“So we need fuel?” Sammy asked. The Chief Stewards voice was calm, but having helped Mihailov to the medical bay and still mourning for his friend Peralta, his expression betrayed fear.
Nilsen was scared too. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was. Beside him Tor sat emotionless, Nilsen didn’t necessarily believe in auras, at least he hadn’t, not beyond the majesty of the Norwegian backcountry, but something about Tor belied an absence. Whether it was his soul, his aura or some other metaphysical component of being, Tor was no longer there and Nilsen knew his trip to Murmansk-13 was responsible.
“We need fuel if it’s available, cryo fluid too,” Pettersson picked up the thread, “We also need basic supplies if we have to endure a long drift, food, warm clothing, medicine. But above all else, we need life support – water recyc filters and air scrubbers.”
“We don’t know if we’ll find fuel or cryo on the station, but the rest we should be able to find.” Nilsen purposely caught the eye of every man in the circle, every man save Tor. “I propose we split into two groups. Myself, Oscar and Hernandez will head for Central Command. I’m assuming their orbital stabilizer is running on something, hopefully Syntin. If not we should find scrubbers and filters in their Plant District.
“Diego, you and Sammy will head for the warehouse, District Six. Pick up clothing and whatever food supplies you can. We’ll take the ships hover-dollies so you’ll have a ton limit, if you find any air scrubbers or water filters in the warehouse bring those too.”
“What about myself and the cadet?” Tor seemed to look somewhere past Nilsen, perhaps into the portholes lining the mess hall bulkhead, toward the paint spatter nebulas that mottled the darkness of Reticuluum. Regardless, Nilsen held his off-centre gaze.
“The cadets hurt, we’ll need someone onboard to keep the vessel secure,” Pettersson spoke, oblivious to the tense nimbus surrounding Nilsen and Tor. “We thought with the crew so severely diminished he was the best suited to keep guard.”
“And me?” Tor asked Nilsen, and Nilsen alone.
“We made no plans for you Tor, as Captain you would be expected to remain onboard.”
“We have no comms, what good am I on the bridge?” Tor’s stare bored holes in Nilsen’s head. His pupils were dilated and depthless. Nilsen no longer sensed anybody but he and Tor in the hall. “None of you have been over there. None of you truly know the layout or know what to expect, but I do. I know what lies within that station.”
The room was hushed the crew chilled, Nilsen knew all eyes were on this exchange but he was mesmerized by the silence of the vessel and the blackness of Tor’s gaze. Nilsen thought of returning to his bed, of abandoning his plans for salvation. “You can go with Diego and Sammy, if you are fit. But every man has to pull his weight. We can’t have stragglers.”
“You think I’ll be a straggler, Chief?” The Master’s tone was dark and hostile. “When did I become a bloody invalid in your eyes?”
Nilsen gulped but held Tor’s gaze.
“What about Dr. Smith and Tala?”
Diego’s question broke the spell between Nilsen and Tor, mutually they turned away. The screaming silence within Nilsen’s ears abated. “Dr. Smith left the Riyadh of her own volition. We can only assume she has an agenda all her own, as such if she does return to the vessel I want her apprehended, otherwise she is her own concern.
“Tala, however is an objective. Every eight hours I want both parties to convene at the junction between Central Command and District Seven,” beside him, Pettersson pointed at a red cross on the maps. “A note will be left for Tala at our entrance point to meet us there.”
Tor laughed a grim laugh. “That easy, eh Chief? We’ll just have unfettered access to that dead behemoth?”
Nilsen felt his cheeks heat. “You have information you wish to share?”
“I have information I don’t think you want to have shared. I think you’d rather have the crew head over to that station ignorant, after all, as Hernandez asked, when was my counsel sought?” Tor asked, acidly.
“As I recall you haven’t exactly been sound of mind these last couple of days, Captain.”
A darkness shrouded Tor’s face, he winced at a memory. “No, no I have not and that is because of the things I saw in that place. That station is ridden with disease and death and there death walks, it pursues and it kills. It killed Peralta and it infected Mihailov.” Tor nearly broke down, Nilsen and the crew watched shaken as the Captain fell silent, hands atop knees, legs moving like nervous pistons.
Nilsen felt his lip tremble, his mouth dry. His gambit was slipping away with the Captain’s sanity. When Nilsen spoke his voice was gruff. “What would you have us do Tor?”
“Be ready, be quiet” Tor’s fearful eyes focused, finally, on Nilsen. “And survive.”
The crew donned their EVA suits in a funerary atmosphere. Nilsen and Hernandez quietly helped each man with their life support couplings, hushed whispers and instructions all that was imparted and quickly swallowed by the silent vessel. Sammy, appeared to be experiencing the most problems getting into his suit, his cheeks reddening with the effort. Stout in body but short in leg, stewards were not subject to the same level of medical requirements as other crewmen. Neither, as glorified housekeepers, were they ever required to spacewalk and as such the EVA suits were designed for more athletic physiques.
The Evac suite, the ships emergency muster point, was the only room fully lit aboard the Riyadh. The bright, sterile lights stung Aidan’s eyes as he felt the weight of the rivet gun in his hand. The gun had been juryrigged to fire without applied pressure and would be his only weapon once he assumed sole watch of the vessel. Brightly coloured and covered in instructional diagrams and warnings, the rivet gun was designed to patch shell plates in emergency situations, not as armament. As Nilsen distributed the remains of his rifle arsenal between the parties, the rivet gun would have to suffice in defence of the vessel. Aidan prayed he didn’t have to use it. He’d been warned about test firing it, so its first use, were it needed, would be an act of self defence.
After the meeting, Pettersson and Hernandez had consulted a manual largely written in Mandarin and performed running checks on all the suits to the best of their ability, the task having once been that of the radio officer. They’d found a number had been damaged in the impact with pressure leaks and warped couplings the prime ailments. There would be enough for the remaining compliment and no more. Tor then informed Nilsen that Tala’s suit had suffered a complete coupling blowout, a replacement EVA or an emergency suit was added to the list of required salvage.
Aidan stared at the remaining crewmen around him, readying themselves for the unknown. The scene was bereft of the bravado of Hollywood, just working men with their backs against the wall. Aidan wondered how his boastful classmates would have held up in his situation? Perhaps months of apathy had made him immune to the danger that surrounded him, but he didn’t really believe it.