Draft 2

Month 3: The Dead Zone Continued

The Med-Bay doors were sealed. Helen unslung the thermal lance and checked the charge. Thirty-one percent.

“Four locking bolts,” she said. “You said I have enough?”

“I said barely, Madam. Cutting all four bolts will require a minimum of twenty-eight. That leaves you with approximately three percent of total capacity before the cell is depleted.”

“So I have no margin.”

“You have almost no margin. Which is different from no margin at all, though not in any way that should make you feel better, Madam.”

Helen stepped to the window and looked inside. Janet was in the far corner of the room, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up and her back against the wall cabinet. She wasn’t moving, but her lips were, a continuous murmur.

Helen watched her for a moment. Then she turned back to the door, pressing the cutting head against the upper left corner of the door frame, where the first bolt was seated behind the steel casing. She pressed the ignition.

The beam engaged. Orange light bit into the metal. She could feel the lance laboring as pale smoke curled off the casing.

“Progress on the first bolt?”

“Forty percent through. The cut is irregular, Madam. The lance is producing a wider beam at reduced charge, which is increasing heat dispersal.”

“Figures.” She held the beam on the bolt and watched the charge indicator on the side of the lance drop. Twenty-nine. Twenty-seven.

The first bolt gave. Not cleanly, it sheared partway and folded inward rather than cutting free, but it gave. She moved to the lower bolt on the same side without stopping. The charge indicator read twenty-four.

The lower bolt was worse. The angle was awkward, and the lance was running hotter now. It stuttered as she pressed harder. The charge read nine. She killed the beam.

She stood in the corridor.

“At current charge levels, completing the remaining two bolts will deplete the cell entirely. The door will not open. You will have no lance, Madam.”

Helen looked at the door, then through the window. Janet was still in the far corner.

She turned away and looked at the ceiling. The thermal and smoke detection array was mounted at the junction of the corridor and the Med-Bay antechamber—a cluster of white sensor pods recessed into the overhead plating. She had replaced the wiring on two of them herself in the first month of the voyage.

She knew exactly how they worked. Safety protocols were hardwired at the system level. They didn’t route through the same network channels as security lockdowns. They predated Claude’s firewall by decades of ship design philosophy. The ship didn’t ask a science officer’s permission to unseal a door when there was a fire on the other side of it.

Helen looked at Seven. “If I trigger the fire sensors in this corridor, what happens to the Med-Bay doors?”

“The ship’s hardwired emergency protocol requires all sealed compartments adjacent to the fire zone to unseal immediately, to permit rescue access. The command bypasses the security lockout entirely. The Med-Bay doors would open.”

“Do you think the lance can generate enough heat to trigger the sensors without cutting anything?”

“Yes, Madam. You would be heating the air column directly below the sensor array. The lance should produce a sufficient thermal signature.”

“Which means I should be able to do it on nine percent charge.”

“With a narrow margin, yes, Madam.”

Helen looked back at the sensor cluster in the ceiling. Then she raised the lance, and positioned the emitter below the nearest sensor pod.

She pressed the ignition at reduced output, the way she would when doing delicate work near a relay panel she didn’t want to overheat. A tight, controlled column of heat climbed toward the sensor.

At first, nothing happened. Then the alarm sounded. A recorded voice announced a fire alert in Medical Sector B. The fire suppression system activated, and a dry powder emitted from the ceiling nozzles.

Helen killed the beam. She looked at the charge indicator. Four percent.

“You have a reserve sufficient for approximately one more brief cut, Madam. I would recommend treating it as a last resort.”

“Understood.” She slung the lance over her shoulder.

The Med-Bay doors unlocked, two bolts releasing clean. The third scraped and resisted before Helen forced it the rest of the way with her shoulder.

The Med-Bay was worse than it had looked through the flex-glass. Medical supplies covered the floor. Bandage rolls, empty vials, a shattered specimen tray. Two of the overhead cabinet doors had been torn from their hinges and stacked against the far wall like a barricade. The bio-scanner hung loose from its mount, its arm bent at an angle.

Janet was on her feet now, backed against the supply counter. She held a scalpel near her hip, the way someone held something they intended to use.

“Close the door,” Janet said. “Close it and seal it. Both of you need to go into quarantine.”

“Janet, listen to me—”

“I’ve been listening.” Janet’s eyes moved to Seven. “That thing is carrying it. The air that comes off it. You’ve been in the vents, haven’t you? You’ve been moving it through the vents.”

“Seven doesn’t make spores. He’s a—”

“I drew my own blood.” Janet stepped sideways, keeping the counter at her back. “I ran the analysis. There’s a toxin in my system. How do I know you’re not compromised, and you just don’t know it yet?”

“Because the sedative has been protecting me. Your sedative. The pills you prescribed me.”

“You’re saying that to get me to lower my guard. You’re going to kill me.”

Helen stopped moving. She stood in the center of the room and kept her hands where they could be seen.

Janet wasn’t swinging wildly. She was quarantining. If Helen tried to rush her, the scalpel would come up fast. But Janet was standing very still, which meant she was waiting to see what Helen did next.

“I’m not going to touch you,” Helen said. “I’m going to go to the supply cabinet and get the sprayer. That’s all.”

Janet’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to put in it?”

“An aerosol solution of your synthetic sedative. It suppresses the exact receptors the toxin binds to. I know it works because it’s been working on me.”

The last of the suppressant powder drifted down from the ceiling nozzles and settled on the floor between them.

“You’re saying I need to be sedated,” Janet said.

“I’m saying you need the same medication you prescribed for me.”

“You want to spray it in the air and infect me!” Janet lunged.

Helen scrambled backward, barely avoiding the blade as Janet slashed at her face.

“Madam, evasive action required!”

The little drone zipped at Janet’s face.

She shrieked, batting wildly at the air. “Get away from me! Get out of my head!”

Seven darted away, flying fast toward the open door of the interior office at the back of the clinic. He pulsed his light and emitted a high-pitched, irritating whine—the perfect bait.

“I’ll smash it!” Janet chased the drone into the office, slashing the scalpel through the air.

The moment Janet crossed the threshold, Seven shot straight up to the ceiling, zipped back over Janet’s head, and cleared the door frame.

Helen didn’t hesitate. She threw her weight against the door, slamming it shut. She punched her engineering override code into the keypad. The lock engaged.

An instant later, Janet slammed into the other side of the door, screaming incoherently.

Helen backed away.

“Target successfully contained, Madam. Shall we retrieve the sprayer?”

“Good job, Seven.” Helen was shaking. “Yeah. Let’s make the spray.”

Helen retrieved the sprayer and set it on the counter. “Seven, walk me through the concentration.”

“Yes, Madam. For aerosolization, you’ll need to dissolve the compound into a water-based carrier and increase the concentration relative to the oral dose.”

Helen pulled out a bottle of saline, and then took the sedative bottle from her pocket and sat it on the counter. She looked back at Seven.

“Now what?”

Seven walked her through crushing the tablets with mortar and pestle and dissolving with the saline. She drew the solution into the sprayer’s reservoir, seated the nozzle, and tested the pump once. A fine mist spread into the air above the counter.

“Effective range is approximately three feet, Madam. Aim for the face. The compound absorbs through the mucous membranes and the upper respiratory tract. Effects should begin within ninety seconds.”

Helen tightened her grip on the sprayer. From behind the locked office door, Janet’s frantic pacing and muttering continued.

“Ready to open the door, Seven?”

“Ready, Madam. I shall attempt to draw her focus away from the nozzle.”

Helen positioned herself to the side of the door frame, took a deep breath, and punched her override code into the keypad. The lock disengaged, and the door slid open.

Janet lunged immediately. She held the scalpel, but before she could strike, Seven zipped directly into her line of sight, his rotors whining at a high pitch. Janet yelled and swatted at the drone.

That split second was all Helen needed. She raised the sprayer and squeezed the trigger.

A dense mist shot into the air, catching the doctor directly in the face. Janet gasped, inhaling the chemical spray, and stumbled backward. She swung the blade widely, nearly slashing Helen’s arm, before the scalpel slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.

Helen administered another quick burst to ensure the dose took hold. Janet slumped backward into the desk chair.

“The aerosol is successfully neutralizing her panic response, Madam. I recommend administering the tablet now to ensure a sustained biochemical buffer.”

Helen nodded, moving in gently. She slipped a sedative tablet into Janet’s hand and offered a cup of water from the desk dispenser. “Swallow this, Janet. It will keep the paranoia from coming back.”

Janet swallowed the pill. Her body tensed as her eyes drifted to the scalpel on the floor, her fingers twitching as if she might reach for it, but the heavy blanket of the sedative dragged her back down. She shook her head, looking around the room. “What happened?”

“It’s the spores from the cargo bay,” Helen said. “The sedative counters their effects.”

“God. I had a scalpel.” Janet looked up at Helen. “I was so sure you were the one bringing it in. Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t. I’m fine. But you had me worried for a minute.”

“I’m sorry. What about the others?”

“They’re still infected. Except Claude, he seems fine. We think he has an antidote.”

Janet looked at the sprayer in Helen’s hand. “Are you going to do the rest of them the same way?”

“If I can get close enough.”

Janet stood. “I should stay here and synthesize more sedative. But the binding agent I need, the sodium channel suppressor, I’ve only got a partial supply.”

“We may need Claude’s nasal spray, Madam.”

Helen looked at Seven. “We’ll have to get our hands on it somehow, but that’ll require a different plan.”

“Correct, Madam.”

Helen filled her sedative bottle with more tablets, stuffed it into her pocket, and turned to Janet, who was walking toward the counter. “The Med-Bay door is damaged and won’t lock or close all the way. Keep the inner office door locked if you hear anyone coming.”

Janet prepared the synthesizer. “Where are you going next?”

Helen walked to the door. “Magnus, I think. He’s the strongest. If we can stabilize him, he can help us.”

“He can also hurt you,” Janet said as she prepared the synthesizer.

“Madam, I must alert you to a critical update from the cargo network telemetry.”

“Don’t tell me the power grid is failing again.”

“Negative. The power flow remains stable at sixty-seven percent. But the cryo-containment seal on the primary crate inside Cargo Bay Four has failed. The biological specimen is no longer inside the container.”

“Claude’s cargo is loose on the ship?”

“No, Madam. The primary bulkhead doors to Cargo Bay Four remain locked under Claude’s Level-One Quarantine. The creature is currently confined to the interior of the bio-dome.”

Janet stopped what she was doing. “There’s a creature roaming around?”

“Looks like it,” Helen said, squeezing through the damaged door. “Be careful.”

Janet is Paranoid.