Beyond the examination room was the sickbay’s single ward. Cots lined its pristine, antiseptic walls, while monitors and other equipment hung overhead, the screens black or cracked. But each cot was occupied by a wounded patient. Those who could were clustered at the examination room’s large window, their eyes trained upon the body of Sturmbannführer Stahl. No doubt, the news of the prisoners’ return from the mysterious spire had circulated around the module, in particular, the news of Stahl’s seemingly miraculous survival; no mention was made of the sterling efforts of both Konrad and Ziegler to rescue the Nazi. Like so much about this mission, when the final version of the events were presented, the prisoners’ contribution would be downplayed.
There was another face at the room’s window. A face infinitely more welcoming than the various crew-men and soldiers who congregated at the glass – Elsa.
Upon seeing Konrad awake, she pushed her way to the examination room’s doorway and entered. Konrad admired her boldness, but on reflection the bandaged and beat-up men were in no condition to stop her. She scurried around the room towards him, her eyes fixed solely upon him. She gently pulled the mask from Konrad’s face and caressed his cheek, her affection for him unrestrained by the surroundings and circumstances.
‘I thought you were dead,’ she gushed.
‘Well, given all what we’ve been through, I think your initial assessment wasn’t far wrong.’
‘Are you hurt?’
Konrad shook his head.
Ziegler leaned in and added his own thoughts. ‘I’m alright too, thank you for asking,’ he said sarcastically.
Elsa ignored him. ‘It was pandemonium after you returned. You would have thought the Führer himself had been injured.’
‘I told you we were right in rescuing Sturmbannführer Stahl.’ Konrad glanced at Ziegler. ‘Imagine what they would have done to us if we returned from that god-forsaken place without him.’
Ziegler nodded as he looked at the frenzy of activity that surrounded Stahl.
At that moment, Blomberg concluded his examination of the comatose Stahl. He pawed his tired, unshaven features as he digested the information provided by the scanner. The little screen displayed Stahl’s slow pulse and steady breathing. There was no indication of injury or anything that was causing the Nazi distress. The green indicators told Blomberg that apart from being unconscious, the Nazi was healthy and unharmed.
‘Will Stahl die?’ Mesler asked.
‘Far from it,’ Blomberg replied. ‘All his life functions are satisfactory. He’s just in a coma. But I can tell you this: it’s a miracle that he’s alive at all. If it’s true what those prisoners said, and his suit did decompress, he should have died instantly. What happened to him inside that building?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Mesler pointed to Konrad and Ziegler. ‘But these two prisoners claim they found him like this at the bottom of a pit of some kind they found inside that tower.’
‘What about the others from the expedition? Where are they?’ Blomberg asked.
‘Apparently they’re dead,’ Mesler announced. His coldness and lack of emotion was a surprise, even to the doctor. He expected the officer to exhibit some sort of emotion at losing his comrades. Perhaps, he surmised that this stoic reaction was Mesler’s way of coping with the loss, but he suspected that his commanding instincts had already taken over; after all, with Stahl incapacitated, he was now in command. ‘There’s something else. The prisoners also claim they found the colonists inside that building.’
‘The colonists?’ exclaimed Blomberg. ‘That’s not possible. They’re mistaken. The colonist’s hibernation tank was surely destroyed in the explosion and crash. They’re gone.’
‘Not according to them.’ Mesler turned to Konrad. ‘Isn’t that so?’
Konrad hopped off the pad and approached. ‘We did find your colonists. Every single one of them. They were located in some-sort of storage chamber.’
‘A veritable chamber of horrors, it was!’ Ziegler helpfully added. ‘It was full of all manner of monstrosities.’
‘Life-forms, apparently,’ Konrad added.
‘Life-forms? Alien life-forms?’ Blomberg asked excitedly.
‘God only knows,’ Konrad said.
‘Was it one of these life-forms that attacked Stahl and the soldiers?’ Mesler asked.
Konrad looked at Ziegler and shrugged. ‘No, Herr Mesler. We think it was something else.’
Mesler drooped against the dais. Confusion and amazement swirled through his mind. ‘What is going on here? It’s like a bad dream. I keep thinking we’re still in hibernation and I’m going to wake up. We’ll find an inhabitable version of Vanaheim, the ship will be operational, the Admiral and the others will be alive and all would be well.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Blomberg asked.
Mesler thought silently for a moment as he considered what to do. ‘Unlike Stahl, my primary consideration has been, and will always be, what’s left of us. Nothing else matters – not the colonists, not the spire. First, we’ll batten down the hatches and secure the module. There are still a number of repairs to the reactor and the battery system. Once achieved, we should make this module habitable for the long term.
‘Next, we’ll send a party out to see what’s left of the ship. We should be able to scavenge an amount of food and supplies to keep us going. Then we’ll seal up the entrance of the spire,’ Mesler said.
‘But, Mesler, what about the colonists?’ Blomberg exclaimed. ‘There are hundreds inside that unit. You can’t possibly abandon them inside that damned tower. It’ll be tantamount to murder!’
‘Spare me the dramatics,’ Mesler coldly replied. ‘I know exactly what my decision will entail. But, Blomberg, I have to balance their fate with the fate of all us who are breathing and living now. If we recovered the colonists that would be hundreds of extra mouths to feed, and if that was the case, it would be the death sentence for us all.’
‘Your logic, despite its ruthlessness, does appear to be sound,’ Blomberg said after he considered his colleague’s words.
Mesler pawed his face and sighed. ‘Such are the demands of command.’ He then turned to the body of the former commander and considered if the SS officer would have made the same decision. Perhaps he would have made a sacrifice to save the mission, but Mesler suspected that he would have chosen to save his Aryan colonists and sacrificed the crew. He pondered this as he headed to the room’s communication-panel and flipped on the microphone.
‘Control room, this is Mesler. I need Karl and Unger to join me at the reactor.’
He released the toggle and expected an eager voice to reply, but instead a worrying scream of static sounded from the speaker. The aural warning caught the attention of Konrad and the others.
‘Control room?’ Mesler asked again. ‘Control room?’ Without thinking, he pulled his pistol from his holster and called to Konrad.
‘I’m going to need your help.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Konrad, Mesler and Elsa reached the control room’s entrance. They had passed no-one on their short journey, and at the same time, the normal sounds associated with the module such as voices, footsteps, computer announcements, were all absent. The fact that the lights, air-systems and gentle hum of the power-lines remained intact and operational only added to the disconcerting atmosphere. They were inside a ghost ship. Mesler stepped in front of the shut door and waited for it to automatically open, but the metal door remained closed.