24-Hour Story Contest Short Story | Adrift

Low Gravity Regolith, Efflam Mercier | Source

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MAYDAY, MAYDAY

… to anyone who can listen or reach this distress signal, this is Sergeant Nicholas Zelazny, combat engineer serving in the … Commonwealth of Planets Navy … my ship is under heavy attack… rep… repeat… under heavy attack by Nokrani pirates… I’m… I’m mildly injured, I’m in the sector 4B of the… the Ravana syst… system…

… whoever’s out there, please, let m… let me see my family again…

END OF TRANSMISSION

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White, intense light pierced my retinas, as I slowly opened my eyes to see my surroundings.

I was breathing normally, resting in what seemed to be a clinic room. The state of shock I remembered happening seconds ago was just an afterthought, the quietness of my room barely interrupted by the beeps and boops of the various machines connected to my body. A quick check through my body attested that, even though I was badly beaten and with light cuts all over my skin, I survived the Nokrani attack quite miraculously.

For a reason I could not immediately fathom, my bed was covered in a plastic screen, thick enough to blur my vision of the room.

The soft, breezy sound of an automatic door hissed outside.

I heard slow, careful steps coming towards myself. A silhouette, visibly dressed in white and green, approached from my right side. As he stepped as close as he could to the screen, I saw him checking a datapad in his hands.

‘How do you feel, Sgt. Zelazny?’

I raised my left hand to my face, trying to relax my shins from what felt like an acute headache.

‘I can’t say I’m fine, but at least I’m alive. That accounts for something, doesn’t it?’

My visitor smiled gently, checking his datapad again. Its holo-transmitter formed a brief image of my own body, floating statically above its surface.

‘Sorry we haven’t introduced properly, Sgt. Zelazny. I am Dr. Ishikawa, and you are onboard the CNMS Radiant. We received your distress signal and were able to send a medivac team towards your location. Sadly, or fortunately for us, the Nokrani pirates that attacked your ship were nowhere to be found.’

Typical Nokrani fanfare. They used to ambush lonely ships across the Ravana system, scavenging the resulting debris and leaving in a flash afterwards.

‘Did you… report the attack, at least? Is my… family aware of what happened?’

‘Yes we did, Sgt. Zelazny. The Regimental Command at Whiterook Station sent an interceptor party to patrol their usual escape routes. Your family has been informed of your status as well, but, as you may know, distance can be an issue in these cases.’

Much obliged, Dr. Ishikawa. I am perfectly aware my family lives on New Zurich, located nearly three and a half light years away. However, they deserved to know.

‘Thanks, Dr. Ishikawa. So… How am I?’

The good doctor smiled again, though this time his expression was not that sincere.

‘Well, to be honest with you, Sgt. Zelazny, we’re quite amazed that you actually were able to survive. Your salvage pod’s sealing devices malfunctioned, largely because of your ship’s blast, and, because of the time spent reaching your location, you were exposed to cosmic radiation in a dangerous way. However, apart from slight concussions and lacerations because of the debris, you seem to be pretty fine.’

I hoped that his diagnosis was true at its core, not only a doctor’s usual politeness at work.

I could not help asking about the… security measures, though.

‘Glad to hear that, doc. But… why am I…’

Dr. Ishikawa quickly realized I was asking him about the plastic screen.

‘As you may be aware of, Sgt. Zelazny, Nokrani pirates are well known for their use of biochemical weapons in their arsenal. Even though you doesn’t seem to be infected, we need to follow tight security protocols to ensure our crew’s safety on the station.’

‘Oh.’

I wasn’t aware at all of that information. Those scavenging bastards, always testing new things.

‘Now, if you excuse me, Sgt. Zelazny, I need to see other patients aboard our medical pavilion. Our main psychologist, Dr. Silbar, will visit you in a few moments. If you need anything, you can dial the service code 0451 in your bed’s pad. We’ll be in touch.’

Dr. Ishikawa left my room. I sighed, as I felt actually relieved. I was never too comfortable around doctors. Not that I was in fear of death or illness, as I saw those as natural consequences of being alive. It was just a certain degree of mistrust and skepticism, as I had seen my share of unprofessional physicians being responsible for many deaths in the field. I tried to trust him, nevertheless, and relaxed myself in the bed, watching my surroundings more closely.

To my own fortune, my bed had a datapad of its own, connected to it by a telescopic arm, furled on its right side. Being extremely careful to keep the electrodes and probes attached to my body in their places, I unfurled the arm, discovering a quite useful armrest in it as I turned the datapad on to see what was going on out there. A quick search on the net told me that, unsurprisingly, the pirate attacks in the Ravana system were not on the news. Moreover, things on New Zurich were going pretty smoothly, life going as lovely and prosperous as it usually were down there.

I thought of my wife and, even more, of my daughter. Service leaves were always painful because of her, as she always looked at me with a “who’s going to read a book for me tonight?” kind of sadness in her face. She makes me think I am an engineer by day and a storyteller for night, as she can’t fall asleep without listening to a tale, or some pages of a book. She is going to be an awesome writer, when she grows up. And she’s courageous as hell… for she loves horror and ghost stories the most.

Not that I like them, of course. I have always thought those kind of stories just babble that people tell themselves to be able to express their fears about death and the other side, no matter what religion or thing they believe in. Being something of a science man myself, it is difficult to believe that our, I don’t know, souls can live after our demise. Even less, which we’ll become into giant white floating sheets or something, scaring people to death so we can all have a lovely, translucent party… I find that kind of ridiculous. But the face my dear Sally makes when she’s truly terrified by a tale like that – in addition, I think I’m a pretty good actor myself – really makes it worthwhile.

I looked at the datapad’s clock. Funny. It must be evening right where we live. The ideal time of the day for telling a horror story.

I did a routine search in the CPN database, just to have more information about my current situation. Fortunately, all the Commonwealth of Planets’ ships and facilities are always connected through a quantum intranet that keeps the fleet well aware of every single military and civilian property in the galaxy. I checked the name of the medical station I was in… Strange. A message displayed “Your search didn’t match any results” on the screen. I checked again. Same thing. Not that it was unusual or anything. As the Commonwealth of Planets’ general situation across the galaxy is dire, the central government was producing its infrastructure at a rate so fast that there was not always enough time to add newly produced facilities to the database.

Medical structures and ships were always on top priority to be added, though…

I tried to do a more refined search in other secondary, even obsolete databases, given I was not aware of the exact launch date of the Radiant. I finally found an entry in an old version of the CPN database, held in a quantum repository that only a few people know it still exists.

What I found shocked me in a way only a second, even more brutal Nokrani attack would.

My room’s doors opened once again. As the plastic screen still did not allow for any kind of accurate viewing, I was barely able to distinguish a feminine, slim silhouette passing through the hall’s light; as she got close to my bed, I rapidly changed the active tab on the datapad.

‘Good morning, Sgt. Zelazny. I’m very sorry for the delay. I’m Dr. Silbar, head of psychology in the CNMS Radiant.’

I couldn’t elaborate an answer, as shocked because of my recent findings as I was. I just blankly stared right at her, trying to smile as I hid my thoughts.

‘Oh… I’m aware that Dr. Ishikawa already visited you minutes ago and spoke with you about your physical status and health, but, as per our patient’s attendance protocols, I’m here to address your mental standing and recovery following your experience, so... How do you feel?’

As good as I can be after finding I’m on a medical station that was decommissioned more than twenty years ago, my dear shrink. Respectfully, of course.

‘I’m fine, Dr. Silbar. I’m still a little shaken-up because of the attack, but I think I’ll recover soon enough.’

The look on Dr. Silbar’s face seemed to be as skeptical as my recent beliefs in my own safety.

‘I’m glad to hear that, Sgt. Zelazny. Especially in the face of you surviving such a traumatic event. If you allow it, though, I will need to run some tests to certify that you are not suffering any kind of post-traumatic stress or similar conditions. We can schedule them in a few hours if you think you could need more time to rest.’

Indeed, Dr. Silbar. I need more time to rest and to get to the truth of this place.

‘Oh, please, Dr. Silbar. I could use an hour or two, if you don’t mind.’

‘Perfect. I’m going to schedule the first test at 13:00. I’ll leave you to rest, Sgt. Zelazny. Nice to meet you.’

I turned a smile back to Dr. Silbar as she left the room, trying to give the impression I was tired as hell. But my mind was on quite a different level. Would this be a trap, carefully laid down by those Nokrani pirates that took my ship down? Just a perverted, sick game of their minds, trying to get some info or answers they would need to plan an even more dangerous sacking at a greater CPN facility?

I went back to the bed’s datapad, searching for that old CPN database. The Radiant was a Caduceus-class medical station, not exactly a large one. With a precise blueprint and the right indications, I could slip out of my room unnoticed and get through the ventilation systems or the service walls into the ship’s core. To find out if the good doctor’s story was true… or not.

It was fortunate that I had a very good memory for the structure’s general distribution, as good an engineer as I was.

After I checked the downloadable blueprint for the facility’s systems, I started unclasping the electrodes and probes attached to my body, carefully turning off each machine as to not alarm or inform anyone of my situation. When I finally left the bed, I walked through the plastic screen around it. A quick, intense image burned my eyes. I saw my room in a heavy degree of disrepair, turned into debris and broken durasteel panels, with the bed and the various life support machines being part of an unruly mess through the room. As I shrugged my eyes, though, everything went back to normal.

Everything but the cold. It was cold as the New Zurich’s poles, in a way I could not feel when I was resting on my bed. However, my head was spinning and active enough that I could not even care.

I needed to get to the bottom of this.

As I walked past my room’s door, I met an empty passage hall. Well lit and fully operational, yes, but totally empty, with just the lights above each room’s door indicating that there were actually people in the medical pavilion at all. But, as I wouldn’t want my presence to be revealed, I carefully walked through the hall, not touching anything near the other doors’ sensors. I went down to the main hallway of the ship, searching for the emergency doors that gave access to the service section.

When I finally arrived to the emergency door, I tried to hack it, using the usual passwords that I had read on the CPN database. Not a single one of them worked. I punched the emergency door, its echo ringing through the whole hallway. Naturally, my heart stopped for an instant, as I ended up aware of the kind of shit I have done…

… but it didn’t have any consequence at all. Quite the opposite. I ended up feeling that, besides Dr. Ishikawa, Dr. Silbar and myself, there was not a single soul aboard the CNMS Radiant.

I remembered that, in the main hallway, Caduceus-class medical stations like this used to have a ship’s log. An access computer to every kind of personal information of the crew or its locations.

I decided to risk away my position in order to search that information. And I did.

I’m not going to say it took a hell of courage to walk right down the main hallway. I was angry enough at the apparent lie of the CNMS Radiant to this point to simply not care about it. And, of course, if it was a ruse by the Nokrani, I thought I would die gladly, knowing that I least I figured the lie.

Truth, however, was a little more complicated than that.

The huge access computer in the center of the main hall was fully operational, and strangely unguarded. Watching closely at every door and hallway, I got close to the computer, starting to look for answers. I checked the station’s logs for the usual things. Admitted patients on board, medical staff running the station… Nothing out of the ordinary. It was just like if the ship was never decommissioned at all. Would the Nokrani, or other more sinister party, hacked the original CPN database to fake its disappearance?

I searched again for the medical staff. Again, everything was in order. Dr. Isao Ishikawa was the head of MD on the ship, and it was actively attending other patients as we spoke. I appeared in his visiting log for the day. The same went down for Dr. Marianne Silbar, the head of psychology on the ship.

I did the only rational thing left…

I checked my own log.

Sgt. Nicholas Zelazny, from the Commonwealth of Planets’ Navy…

Admitted on 2238.09.15, at 06:00, Standard Galactic Time, assaulted by a Nokrani pirate raid…

… deceased by the time he entered the medical pavilion?! What the…

‘I should have thought that you would eventually find the truth all by yourself, Sgt. Zelazny.’

I heard a very familiar voice behind me. It was Dr. Ishikawa.

I clawed my fingers out of fear at the access computer’s keyboard. I didn’t turn immediately, sighing and looking down to the floor. Noticing that, strangely enough…

… neither my feet, nor my body, produced any shadows at all.

‘What… What the hell does this mean, Dr. Ishi…’

I felt a cold hand putting itself into my right shoulder. As instilled with rage and confusion as I was, I couldn’t do anything besides letting it rest right there.

‘You can check the medical records all by yourself, Sgt. Zelazny. I trust you’re pretty able to do it.’

I entered my file under the ship’s records. There were a number of videos listed under the diagnosis and filing section. I opened them one by one. My findings were… disheartening.

The good Dr. Ishikawa lied to me. My salvage pod hadn’t just a little filtration. The Nokrani shot a plasma torpedo with three times the usual explosive charge. I should have known about it. According to the usual myths and urban legends, the Nokrani never leave survivors.

When the scouting party finally found me, I had been dead and adrift in space for three hours.

Naturally, someone had to explain this…

… and I turned to the good doctor, filled with unbridled rage…

… that vanished itself in a heartbeat, as I finally saw him face to face.

And I couldn’t believe what I was actually seeing.

A visibly Asian man, considerably aged, with his skin paled and starting to rot. His cheeks decomposed enough so I could see his yellow, decayed teeth behind all the cracks and holes in his skin. A sad, nearly ashamed expression in his face, Dr. Ishikawa looked at me with repentant eyes as he was perfectly aware of what I was feeling right now. His clothes were in pretty bad shape, but, indeed, they identified him as the dead, haunting Head of MD of the CNMS Radiant.

‘I couldn’t tell you the truth, Sgt. Zelazny. And for that, I’m really sorry. Suffice to know, Nokrani pirates did the exact same thing to our ship, twenty years ago. We launched a distress signal, just like yours, to no avail. The Commonwealth Navy just never arrived. They didn’t think the Nokrani were that important of a threat. And they still don’t think they are.’

‘That doesn’t add up, Dr. Ishikawa… You were inside a damned medical station, for fuck’s sake!’

The ghost of the good doctor sighed.

‘I’d really thought the same as you did, Sgt. Zelazny. But, as you may see…’

I felt a stinging, piercing headache as he started to talk. I fell down to my knees, closing my eyes out of pain as I hoped the ache to pass away. When it finally did…

… I saw the true face of the station I was in. The stars’ light, filtering itself through countless holes and deformations in the station’s hull. The halls and the furniture were as messed up and deroded as the ones I saw on my own room, and the main hall was full with floating debris, thanks to the lack of any gravity system working inside the ship. Strangely, the only somewhat polite thing standing in the room was myself.

‘… the Nokrani did with our ship what they wanted. And no one did a single thing about it.’

I was truly inside a ghost story, not unlike the ones that my dear Sally loved.

Oh, no… my Sally… Was she… was she truly aware of…?

I assaulted Dr. Ishikawa, holding him by the neck of his shirt… taken aback by the irony of actually being able to hold a ghost with my fingers like this.

‘Did you truly inform the fleet of my situation, Ishikawa?! Does my family…’

‘Please, Sgt. Zelazny. How could we? For the sake of clarity…’

The good doctor hadn’t even finished his words when, suddenly and slowly, the whole ghastly crew of the CNMS Radiant started appearing through the halls and doorways of the main hall. Including Dr. Silbar, of course, who was in a state of decay and hollowing as intense as Dr. Ishikawa’s, otherwise candidly holding in her hands the tests she was going to do to me.

‘… this is just a ghost ship. A forgotten husk of a hospital, lying in the void of space. We rescued you out of pity… because you were in exactly the same situation as we were, back then.’

I released Dr. Ishikawa. As I did, I saw my hands slowly starting to rot and wither away, with the rest of my body acting just the same.

And I didn’t feel a single thing about the whole ordeal. I just felt empty, with not a single emotion that could predictably produce fear, wrath or just a single teardrop out of my eyes.

I was dead.

And I would never be able to see my family again.

My wife, Roselyn… my dear Sally…

As I slowly resigned to my fate, I asked Dr. Ishikawa a question that felt awkwardly natural.

‘What… what would you like me to do then… doctor?’

Dr. Ishikawa slowly, nonchalantly shook the cosmic dust out of his lab coat and the flaps of his shirt’s neck.

‘Well… We were thinking that you could actually help us repair our ship, Sgt. Zelazny. After all…

… we have some Nokrani pirates that could require our assistance.’

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This short story is participating in the 24-Hour Story Contest Short Story by @mctiller, featured here