Draft 2

Month 3: The Dead Zone Continued

Helen felt the sound before she heard it. As the alarm continued to sound, the Persephone seemed to flex, and then snap back. Loose tools slid off the workbench and crashed to the floor.

The grief she felt from the audio faded into the background as something structural popped with a sound like a gunshot. The diagnostic panel on the wall was a wall of red.

“Madam,” Seven said softly. “The Structural Integrity Field has dropped to thirty-one percent. The gravitational shear of the Dead Zone is currently exceeding the Persephone’s magnetic dampening threshold by a factor of three point seven. At this rate of degradation, the lower hull plates will reach critical failure in approximately eighteen minutes.”

“How much of that is Claude’s drain?”

“Sixty-three percent of the total SIF degradation is directly attributable to the unauthorized power consumption in Cargo Bay 4. Without that drain, the dampeners would be managing the shear within normal operating parameters.” A brief pause. “I suggest you continue what you started, Madam. Time is of the essence.”

Helen immediately stood, hefted the thermal lance off the floor where she’d dropped it, and slung the carry strap over her shoulder.

“If I sever the feed to Cargo Bay Four at the primary junction, what happens to the grid?” Helen asked as she sprinted to the engineering door with Seven flying next to her.

“A full severance would cause a cascading failure across conduit trunks B through F. You would lose propulsion on two of the four main drives, all secondary lighting, and the environmental processors on decks three and four.” He paused. “I would recommend a partial cut at junction J-7 in the lower logic hub. You can isolate the Cargo Bay Four feed from the primary trunk there and reduce the drain by approximately sixty to sixty-five percent. It is the most surgical option available.”

Helen hit the corridor at full sprint. “And that’s enough to stabilize the SIF?”

“Yes, Madam. The remaining draw will continue at a level the dampeners can compensate for.” A pause. “The ship will stop folding.”

“What’s in that crate, Seven? Best guess,” Helen said, breathless as she ran.

“Based on the power consumption profile, the thermal output, the humidity requirements, and the scale of the cryogenic draw, I estimate the cargo is a living biological specimen.” He paused. “A very large one, Madam.”

Helen ran hard through the maintenance corridor, the thermal lance carry strap cutting into her shoulder.

“Eighteen minutes was a conservative estimate,” Seven said, keeping pace at her shoulder. “You have approximately sixteen remaining. I would recommend increasing your pace.”

“Talk to me while I run. What do I do when I hit J-7?”

“The junction is behind the third panel on the starboard wall of the lower logic hub. The conduit bundle you want is wrapped in a red industrial sleeve; you cannot miss it. It will be running hot. You will need to remove the outer coupling first with your hydrospanner, then use the thermal lance to cut the interior junctions. Be precise; the Cargo Bay Four feed is intertwined with the secondary medical grid. A careless cut takes the Med-Bay offline as well.”

“Got it. Coupling first, then lance. Stay clean.”

“Precisely, Madam.”

She hit the stairwell at full speed, grabbed the railing, swung around the landing, and drove herself down to the lower logic hub.

***

The hub was cramped and filled with floor-to-ceiling conduit bundles and relay panels. The Persephone’s arteries ran through this room—cables that hummed with the current that kept everything alive.

She went to the starboard wall and popped open the cover of the third panel. The red-sleeved cable was right where Seven said it would be. She could feel the heat through her gloves.

“That’s it, Madam.” Seven hovered just over her right shoulder. “The coupling is the silver collar at the lower end of the sleeve. Remove that first.”

Helen fitted her hydrospanner around the coupling and leaned into it. The bolt did not move. The hydrospanner’s torque head engaged, and she put her whole shoulder into it. With a screech, it turned.

“Good,” Seven said. “The interior junctions will be exposed once you slide the sleeve back approximately four inches. Be cautious; the current running through that bundle is significantly above rated capacity due to the unauthorized draw. Even through your gloves, contact with an exposed conductor would be—”

“Unpleasant,” Helen said as she slid the sleeve back carefully.

“I was going to say potentially fatal, Madam.”

The junctions came into view—three thick terminals, two silver and one copper-clad, nested together inside the conduit. Helen raised the thermal lance.

“The copper terminal is the Cargo Bay Four feed,” Seven said. “The two silver terminals are the primary and secondary medical grid. Leave those untouched and everything downstream stays live.”

“And if I nick a silver one?”

“Medical Officer Wilson loses power to the Med-Bay.” A pause. “Given that Janet is currently locked inside the Med-Bay and, based on the security footage I reviewed, is not in a stable condition, I would strongly recommend against that outcome.” His optic pulsed. “You have nine minutes and seventeen seconds remaining, Madam. I suggest we have this conversation after you make the cut.”

Helen brought the lance to the copper terminal. “Okay. Here we go.”

The beam cut clean and fast. The copper terminal split. The hum in the sleeve dropped instantly, and the heat bled off in a matter of seconds.

Across the hub, three relay panels flashed, then stabilized.

Helen held her breath.

“Structural Integrity Field is recovering, Madam. Forty-four percent. Fifty-one. Fifty-eight.” A pause. “The micro-fracture propagation in the lower hull has stopped. The field is stabilizing at sixty-seven percent. The dampeners are compensating for the remaining draw.” Another pause. “The ship is no longer folding.”

Helen lowered the lance and exhaled.

“You saved the ship, Madam.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Seven.”

“You cut the correct wire, under time pressure, with shaking hands, while operating on insufficient sleep, emotional distress, and a partially metabolized sedative. I maintain my original statement, Madam. You saved the ship.”

She almost smiled. She was reaching for the conduit cover when the room behind her went dark. Every light extinguished at once. Then came the sequential magnetic clunk of four bulkhead locks engaging at once, sealing the hub from every direction.

Helen turned around.

“Seven, what’s happening?”

“All four egress corridors have been remotely sealed. The lock-out command was routed through the Science Lab terminal.”

“Claude’s doing this.” Helen crossed to the nearest bulkhead and entered her engineer override code. The keypad lit red. She tried again. Red.

“He has frozen your override credentials, Madam. He appears to have prepared this contingency in advance.” Seven’s optic swept the room in a rapid arc. “Madam, the atmospheric sensors are registering a pressure drop. He is venting the oxygen from this compartment.”

“That man’s going to prison, if I have anything to say about it,” Helen said, already feeling the first thinning of the air. “How long do I have?”

“At the current extraction rate, four minutes before loss of consciousness. Approximately seven before the cellular damage becomes irreversible.” His optic pulsed. “The sedative you took is currently suppressing your respiratory distress response. You may not feel the hypoxia as acutely as you otherwise would. I will monitor your oxygen saturation continuously and alert you the moment your levels begin to drop below safe margins.”

Helen slammed her palm against the nearest wall comm. “John.” Static. She hit it again, harder. “John, this is Helen, I need you to unseal the lower logic hub, do you copy?” Nothing but the flat hiss of dead air. She lowered her hand. “He’s cut the comms down here too.”

“Yes, Madam. The communication blackout was routed through the same terminal as the bulkhead locks.” A brief pause. “Claude was thorough.”

Helen needs to stop the ship from imploding.