Icarus (18 page)

   “I’m not sure that’s a comforting thought right now.”

   “All things considered, I agree. Come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to
cover, and these suits are only rated for three hours of use.”

   They began to move slowly down the passageway, stopping to shine their
lights in the occasional open hatch or doorway. Though each room had a
different layout, they were all victims of the same outcome: instantaneous loss
of internal pressure and atmosphere
before
their respective outer doors
had been opened.

   “Could it have been a life support malfunction?” Melissa asked
tentatively.

   Shawn nodded, although it was impossible for her to see him do so
under his helmet. “I’ve seen that before. Although I wouldn’t rule it out, it
doesn’t explain the battle damage to the hull.”

   “The
Icarus
sure is a mess, sir,” Adams offered sadly. “I’ve
never seen anything like this, and I’ve seen some pretty far-out stuff.”

   Melissa groaned in approval. “Perhaps it was pirates?”

   Shawn pivoted quickly to face her. He hated pirates for more reasons
than he could count, and loathed the idea of running into a particularly vicious
group of them out here, even with the
Rhea
hovering nearby. “What makes
you say that?”

   “What if, after something happened to the life support systems, the
pirates cut a hole in the ship and began plundering the contents?”

   He had to agree that her assessment had a certain logic to it. He’d even
seen something similar firsthand, albeit on a much smaller scale. “That would
jive with some of the established facts. But, again, where are the bodies?
Pirates aren’t known for having a high regard for the dead, so I doubt they
would have disposed of them.” He shined his light around until it came to rest
on Melissa. “Unless, of course, they ate the bodies.”

   She shook her head in disappointment. “Space cannibals are a myth.
It’s never been proven they actually exist. Besides, this place is creepy
enough without you having to add to it.”

   “A myth? I’ll have you know I once saw—”

   “Enough, okay?” Her tone was resolute. “Let’s just get on with the
mission. We’ll know more when we get to auxiliary control.”

   “I thought we were going to investigate the life-form reading.”

   “We are, but getting to the secondary command center is a primary
concern. It should have a record of everything that happened to this ship on
recordable media. We can take it back to the
Rhea
once we’re done here,
but I can’t leave without it. Understood?”

   Shawn nodded slowly. “I understand, don’t worry. But I’d feel better
if we checked out that life-form reading and were done with it. This situation
is far too spooky for my liking.”

   They came to the ladder well that Shawn had found on the ship diagram,
then proceeded up the four flights of stairs that would lead them to deck seven.
At the top of the stairs was a large bisected door with the number “7” painted
on the left-hand side. The spotlight from Adams’ rifle-mounted light caught
tantalizing glances at cables dangling from the corridor’s overhead, and empty,
half-opened crates littering the floor. Melissa’s foot caught on a cable as
thick as a python, but she righted herself before she had a chance to hit the
unforgiving deck.

   “How do we know if it’s sealed or not? There could be atmosphere in
there.”

   Shawn looked to the side of the door for the compartment containment
light. Normally, this light would be in a constant state of safety, indicated
by a single green light in the center of the pad. Below it was a red light,
indicating that the compartment was either dangerous or uninhabitable. However,
with the loss of power all over the ship, neither of the lights was working.
After being adrift for so long, even the emergency batteries in the
Icarus
must have been completely drained.

   “We don’t know. We’ll just have to knock.”

   Melissa didn’t take him seriously until he pounded the butt of the
heavy flashlight against the steel of the security door. In the vacuum of
space, there was no sound as the heavy metal casing of the light contacted the
thick sheathing of the door. After a few more failed attempts, Shawn discerned
it was safe to try to force the door.  

  “How do you plan on opening it, sir?” Sergeant
Adams asked.

  Shawn moved the tool pouch off his shoulder and
placed it on the deck. “With a little toy I keep around for just such
instances.”

   “You’re telling me that you find yourself in
situations like this often enough that you carry around tools for getting past
government-grade security doors?” Melissa asked.

   Shawn smiled as he unzipped the bag and withdrew
the tool. “You’re not the only one with fun gadgets here.” He stood up and
affixed the palm-sized device to the door.

   Melissa instantly recognized it as a portable
power emitter, albeit an older model than what she was used to using.

   Shawn pushed the initiator button and the device
came to life, emitting a barely audible whine as it applied a small power field
to the local area. The few electronic devices within a ten-foot radius suddenly
came to life, including the manual door release and the atmospheric warning
indicator, which flashed a brilliant red glow. Even the overhead lights came
on, and Melissa had to squint as her eyes adjusted.

   “I guess that’s our answer to what we’re going to
find in there.” Shawn reached for the manual override control and flipped it
on, causing the door to spring open quickly enough to startle Melissa.

   “Sorry about that,” he offered, although he knew
there was little he could have done to avoid it.

   She rapidly regained her composure. “It’s…okay. I’m
fine.”

   They moved silently through the opening, noticing
that a few of the overhead lights had come on due to their use of the portable
emitter. Shawn switched the device off and plucked it from the door, causing
the overhead lights to go dim once more. “I have to conserve the power in this.
It’s the only one we have, for now.”

   “For now?”

   “There should be a few more of these in auxiliary
control. They’re mainly used during shipboard disasters. We’ll get them later.”

   She nodded, and then the two began to walk down
the dark hallway. Shawn flashed his light against the wall, noting the
condensation that had crystallized in the cold of open space. Mixed with the
normal white paint of the walls, the reflections gave Shawn the impression he
was walking in an ice tunnel on some frozen hell. About twenty meters into the
passageway the ice had visibly lessened, until it was nearly gone by the time
they got to the next closed door in the passageway.

   Shawn shined his flashlight around the perimeter
of the door, then to the placard beside it.   

   “What is it?” Melissa asked as Shawn read the
inscription.

   “This is a containment barrier door. If the hull
becomes depressurized, spaces like this act like an internal airlock from one
space to the next. He withdrew the power emitter and placed it on the center of
the door. When power was applied, the atmospheric light on the door’s control
panel showed green. After a few hard knocks with his flashlight, he began
inputting commands into the door’s panel.

   Suddenly a door slid out from an unseen alcove
behind them, closing off the passageway they’d just come down.

   Melissa looked to Shawn nervously. “What are you
doing now?”

   “I’m going to pressurizing this space so we don’t
jeopardize what’s in there.”

   “Will there be enough air?”

   “There should be. There are emergency tanks built
into each section, enough to repressurize in case of emergency. Then again,
those could be damaged as well.”

   “In other words, you don’t know.”

   “I won’t know until I try.” After inputting the
commands and depressurizing the space, the door snapped open, and Shawn
instantly had his weapon at the ready. He scanned what little interior space he
could see, and then seeing that it was relatively clear, motioned for Melissa
to follow him with a wave over his shoulder.

   “This isn’t where the life-form reading was coming
from, is it, sir?” Adams asked, waving his pulse rifle around the room for
emphasis.

   “No. It should be the next compartment.” Shawn
turned and retrieved his power emitter, then placed it on their current side of
the door and used it to close the hatch. Locating an outlet on the wall, he
withdrew the emergency generator and plugged it in, providing minimal power to
the entire compartment.

   Melissa felt the slight pull of normal gravity
under her suddenly heavy boots. “Is that normal?”

   Shawn shrugged. “It looks like some of the gravity
generators are still functioning near this space.”

   “Is there air in here?” she asked.

   Shawn held his right forearm up to his helmet,
checking the local atmospheric readout on his wrist computer. The indicator
graphs were all in the green, but just barely so. “The levels show that it’s
breathable, as long as you don’t plan on running a marathon.”

   “No worries there, Commander,” Adams interjected.

   Shawn reached up and unclasped his helmet, pulling
it off in one smooth motion and laying it on a nearby table. He helped Melissa
do the same while Adams removed his own. “Our suits should be able to capture
some of this air and recharge the internal respirators. It should extend our
time here by another hour or so.”

   It looked like they’d entered an engineering
space. There was a massive water generation plant near the starboard wall. Due
to the low power provided by the emergency generator, the plant was
inoperative. However, a large storage tank near the side of the bulbous machine
was nearly full. Opposite the water generator was a chaotic series of pipes and
conduits, probably used for moving the newly formed water from one part of the
ship to another.

   Shawn walked over to the storage tank, then
unsealed the top of the container. He reached his gloved hand in, took a palm
full of water, and brought it to his nose.

   “Water?” Melissa asked inquisitively.

   Shawn took a tentative sip, then spit it out. “If
you want to call it that. It tastes more like sulfur. My guess is that
something in the generator broke down, causing the water to become tainted. You
could probably live off it for a while, but it’d give you one hell of a stomach
ache.”

   There was a groan of metal from somewhere in the
distant overhead, followed by a series of noises that gave the impression
something very large had just fallen to the deck. It sounded to Shawn like the
Icarus
was strongly objecting to the torment her hull had been put through to get her
to this state. If that was the case, Shawn could hardly blame her.

   Even though they had yet to find a single
crewmember of the over four hundred fifty-three souls on board, it felt as if
there were eyes watching Shawn’s every move. He’d be tempted to call it ghosts,
if he believed in such things. No, this was far more foreboding. He couldn’t
place it, but he was sure something sinister had taken place here, and every
creak and moan of the
Icarus
was, in a way, her method of trying to
speak to him in a language he couldn’t yet understand.

   “I know you said that recharging our suits would
give us another hour of air, but I’m not sure I want to stay around here that
long,” Melissa offered uncertainly.

   “Me neither,” Shawn said after another series of
loud creaks.

   “What else do you have in that bag of yours?” She
stepped closer to the water maker.

   Shawn regarded the pouch, mentally inventorying
the contents. “Nothing too fancy, I’m afraid. I have some spare rations, water,
a few tools, a basic medical kit, the small power generator that we used to
power on the lights in this space, another we can use to power up a computer or
a wall terminal for about thirty minutes, and an extra energy clip for my gun.”
He looked to her skeptically. “Were you looking for something specific?”

   “Not really. Just curious.” She looked around
nervously, rubbing her gloved hands together briskly. “Making conversation.”

   He stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her
shoulders. “Just relax, okay?” he said calmly. “There’s nothing to be worried
about here. It’s just a ship.”

   Suddenly a loud thud came from just beyond a door
on the opposite side of the compartment. It startled them all, and Shawn nearly
put a round from his weapon through the closed hatch. Adams instantly had his
rifle trained at the center of the door. Melissa reached down and withdrew her
own sidearm.

   Shawn gave her an inquisitive look. “And just
where were you hiding that?”

   Another thud from behind the door echoed through
the compartment, then another one, far louder than the first. Something was
trying to get to them.

   “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her words were
succinct, but laced with trepidation. “What do we do now?”

   Shawn shrugged, his pistol at the ready. “We see
who’s knocking.”

   “Is that wise?”

   Shawn shook his head. “Doubtful.”

   He gripped his pistol tighter, then approached the
door slowly. He pulled off the tool bag and withdrew the emitter, giving the
pouch a shove out of his general area—just in case he needed to defend his
territory. As his hand neared the door, another impact, this one louder and
more pronounced than the first two, echoed off the walls. Shawn licked his lips
as he placed the device on the door and activated it. He jumped back, crouched,
and held his weapon in the ready position as the emitter began a five-second
delay in its wind up to activation. When it reached its fever pitch, the doors
popped open with such a snap that Shawn was sure they would embed themselves in
their respective alcoves.