Challenge #01712-D251: The One That Got Away
The sign said "Wet Paint". -- Anon Guest
It said it in English, and it said it whilst affixed to a filthy-looking wall. There was something incredibly suspicious about all of this. Especially since this was apparently a derelict in the middle of nowhere with no alarms, diverse or otherwise.
Some part of Jen was screaming, Honey trap! But it was in stiff competition with the part of her that was so very tempted to see if the sign was telling the truth.
It took real effort to turn away from the sign and scout the rest of the ship. Shiny technology. Resources that were easy to get to, and easily transformed into incredibly useful things. There was even art that could be worth a Year or fifteen. Assuming it was art and not technology. And an especially active nearby magnetosphere that stopped her scanner from working. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't her own sushi burps.
No sign of life on this derelict. The atmosphere was plausible, but Jen couldn't breathe it. And, as a bonus, it preserved everything that was in it. But there was still something wrong with it all. And it centred on the sign.
She poked it. It was not wet paint, but some form of glue that would stay wet until something came into contact with it.
"Fuck," she muttered. Now her choices were remove her glove and die, or wait for whoever set this honey trap up to come and take her to whatever. For all she knew, they were cogniphagics out after the ultimate prey.
Think, think, think... They had to check this trap regularly. They knew humans were in the area and had logically recognised a thing that humans were guaranteed to touch. She had two hours of air before this situation got dire. She'd left her cutting tools by the airlock...
How long could she hold her breath?
Jen hyperventilated on purpose. Cramming her body with as much oxygen as she could stand. Took one last, deep breath, and unfastened her glove. Her livesuit immediately blatted warnings in her ears, but she ignored them. Her mission, now, was to get to the airlock with all due speed, but not enough speed that her body would demand she breathe the now toxic air.
Walking at just the right pace while her lungs creaked into agony was an experience she didn't care to repeat. Jen didn't even grab her tools. Just leaped inside the last door and slammed the button. Seized the emergency mask as fast as she could.
Dizzy, coughing, and covered in an interesting rash from the derelict's atmosphere, Jen pondered her next move. Reporting this shit would require leaving the system, which would take too much time even at CTL. She couldn't let it stay there and be a trap for anyone else.
Too many shiny objects inside. And her suit was compromised, but not so compromised that Ace Salvage wouldn't rip her a new one for expanding her cargo. They'd make her pay for a new livesuit, the bastards. So, the only other option was, find a new way to strip it.
It took a week to rig up a remote bot for herself. A week that she spotted a vessel jump into the system and then jump back out again. They must have had a set of signals to let them know someone was there, and a closer set to let them know the trap had been sprung. Jen smiled at the thought that she was making someone go to this much effort.
The first thing she got back was her glove, and then the tools. Once that little piece of wall was in her ship, the analysis computers could tell her the solvent and even fabricate some. Which got added to her just-in-case pouches on the suit.
After that, it was a simple exercise of stripping every last valuable thing off there before she set her Hungry Caterpillar on the entire damn thing.
And, just to be petty, she added mines to the jump point where the assholes who set this up regularly did their turn-around.
That'll teach them.
Vorax command was not pleased. They had had the most perfect human trap known to their kind. And now one had escaped. They had learned many things about their tastiest prey. And the most alarming was, What one human learns, the rest learn.
That trap would not work again.
They would have to start hunting.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Flik47]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me.
Send me a prompt [12 remaining prompts!]