《72 Hours》 Chapter 1: A Message From Home Blooooody hell- when they told us that the mission would be a long time, they were damn right. Somehow, seeing the same empty, inky, blacky (if it¡¯s not a word it should be) space outside the ship got boring after the first few months. Heck, I would¡¯ve gone stir crazy if I didn¡¯t have Mason, my only other real friend up here. Dan, Allison, and Saskia¡­ Well, Spacca (our cute pet name for the Space Academy) claims it¡¯s impossible not to become at least acquaintances with your crew, but these guys have made it pretty hard. Somehow Spacca has managed to throw the 4 people who have the most conflicting personalities on the same team, and still expect us to each complete our mission. It¡¯s when I think about thoughts like these that I pray to the administration angel who set me up with my childhood friend (wow¡­ that¡¯s not what it sounds like). Ok quick run through- Dan is a bit pompous. He¡¯s the Tech guy, so he¡¯s wicked smart, just not so experienced with social interaction. Got that type of hair that you could wring out and find a decent cup of wax, that is to say, long, blacky and slicked back. He¡¯s kinda tall, you know the guys who stand up straight and look down over their glasses at you? Pretty much the feeling you get whenever he talks. Saskia? Well considering that she and Allison had the nickname of the ¡°Space Angels¡± (Honestly they could¡¯ve thought of a sexier name) she isn¡¯t lacking anything in the looks department. Long chocolate cocoa coloured hair, pale white skin, warm brown eyes ¨C anything but warm personality. This girl doesn¡¯t talk unless it¡¯s necessary, and when she does it¡¯s almost always scathing remarks- meaning we don¡¯t often chat up a storm. She¡¯s the Geo analyst, studying meteorites, earth samples, that sort of thing. Rocks. Now Allison, she¡¯s pretty much the opposite of Saskia- pretty much flirts with anything that has a heartbeat. Often though, it¡¯s just flirting for the purposes of teasing the individual ¨Cspeaking from sad prior experience. Apart from flirting she has another interesting hobby- MMA. This girl loves all types of beat down, Krav Maga, KickBoxing, Muy Thai, ergo she can really open up the proverbial can of whup-ass whenever she feels. The job of being our repair girl, or construction specialist as they like to call it, is quite fitting for her. Shoulder length blond hair and a well-endowed figure makes up the easiest to talk to of the troublesome trio. And Mason. My only solstice in the tornado of a social group that is team 53. Our tall, tanned, sandy blonde, broad-shouldered charismatic group leader. The best description I can think of is the stereotypical ¡®surfer-dude¡¯. He¡¯s an extreme sports junkie. Completely addicted to everything extreme, dangerous, and highly-likely-to-injure-yourself sport that you can think of. I say that he studied to be the medic simply because then he could fix himself when he crashes off a cliff during extreme mountain biking or something. He¡¯s able to get along with absolutely everyone, ergo, he is the reliable backbone of our team. My name is Ollie, and I¡¯m the Animals guy. My job is to test various animals for side effects and pattern changes when put in space. I was born on a farm, so I wouldn¡¯t say there was much of a change when I went to Spacca except for the spacey stuff we had to learn about. Mason used to visit the farm every so often because our parents were really good friends. We got on really well, and when Mason started to talk about how cool the city was, showing me his cool gadgets (I still use the automatic sharpener to this day), I started to show him the joys of the countryside; how to have fun around an electric fence. I¡¯m seriously surprised that we don¡¯t glow in the dark, what with the amount of exposure we¡¯ve had to electricity. Right, the mission. After 1 year, we¡¯re finally able to come home! See family and friends! Not see these people! I was jolted from my happy little thoughts by a slap on the back. ¡°What¡¯s cookin¡¯ good lookin¡¯?¡± said Mason as I stumbled forward a little. I¡¯m sorely tempted to respond sarcastically and ask which oven he¡¯s talking about- but somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand that it could be a little immature and a lame comeback. I do it anyway. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Well they don¡¯t exactly allow us to have ovens- they don¡¯t seem to like fire remember?¡± I responded, but Mason just grinned and slapped me on the back, propelling me forward even further. Thanks to Mason¡¯s help I reached the door before him and pulled it open. Inside are our troublesome trio, obviously not talking to each other at all. Allison had her feet on the long table, pretty unconcerned about the awkwardness in the room. Dan was doing something on his laptop, (no surprises there) sitting like a model student in his chair. Saskia was resting her head on her crossed arms, upon the table. As I opened the door, they all looked up, found nothing of interest, and went back to what they were doing (woo self-esteem). But when Mason walked in, the atmosphere changed. Allison took her legs off the table and crossed them over each other, Dan shut his laptop, and Saskia took her head off the table. Mason walked over to the monitor as I joined the table, and switched it on. As the sparkling bald head of our commander graced the screen, Mason grabbed a seat and spun over to the table. ¡°Congrats guys!¡± smiled the commander ¡°you¡¯re finally clear to come home. As you know, this is the last message you¡¯ll receive before you enter the Milky Way galaxy, due to power consumption and connection difficulties that can occur during the final leg of the journey. Sorry that this face is the first and last you see before earth, and at 0:00 hours no less.¡± That was a little strange. The commander was more like one of those hard-ass drill masters that appears to have no other volume level than really, really loud. ¡°Seeing as I haven¡¯t got long, I¡¯ll keep it short. We¡¯re very sorry about to hear about the death of your crewmate, and we apologise for this, but you will have to fill out the form and incident report before you get back. Their name shall be recorded in our halls, rest assured, and they will get proper respect.¡± Well shit. An error? Everyone seemed to have the same expression as me, mildly confused with a hint of worry. ¡°The CMI confirmed the loss of mental activity 3 days ago. We expect a full report on the incident. Continue your voyage back. We wish you a safe return trip. End tape¡± Ok, well that kicked our panic levels up a notch. CMI¡¯s (or Cerebral Monitor Implant) don¡¯t fail. Ever. They¡¯re linked back to mission control, and the eggheads back at SPACCA can use them for study and for monitoring our health signs. And since all the functions in the implant are completely controlled by the staff at the base, they have access to all the error reports and abnormalities. We literally have no control over the CMI, so there isn¡¯t any tampering that could have happened. The screen went black, and silence descended over the control room. I could see a mixture of emotions on everyone¡¯s faces; worry, anxiety, fear, confusion, but nobody seemed willing to say anything. Finally Mason (praise be to the administration angel) rose from his seat and broke the silence. ¡°Ok guys, let¡¯s get this straight. CMI¡¯s don¡¯t fail. That means one of us,¡± he cast a sweeping glance around the table ¡°has had an abnormal shift in their brain patterns. We can¡¯t contact base for another 3 mission days, until we arrive home. But it¡¯s just 3 mission days- then we can find out what has gone wrong. Panicking isn¡¯t going to help us- the people down at base will know what to do.¡± Ok, a logical, well thought out response. Perhaps there was a chance that we could get home before shit hit the proverbial fan? Then Allison opened her mouth. ¡°But what if it¡¯s aliens?¡± Ah geez. Best thing to do now was grab an umbrella and prepare for a deep cleansing wash after this was all over. ¡°Alison,¡± Dan stated as he pointedly glared at her, ¡°aliens don¡¯t exist, at least for certain in the quadrant that our ship resides in. This quadrant has been explored over a thousand times by graduates far superior to us, and they have reported nothing. Frankly, the mere fact that you even thought there was a possibility of extra-dimensional beings makes me wonder how you got past the basic information part of the course.¡± ¡°Yeah, screw you too Dan. Not literally, of course, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to invent a program to do that for you.¡± ¡°SHUT IT!¡± yelled Mason. He rarely ever yelled, illustrating exactly how on edge this situation had affected him. ¡°Leave your petty grievances out of this, we seriously don¡¯t have time for it. We need to try and figure out a way out of this situation- I might have an idea with the medical equipment we have on board. Listen out for an announcement over the intercom systems; I''ll update you if I figure out something." Mason promptly turned on his heels and exited the control room. The rest of us sat there in stunned silence- this was not the Mason we had been with throughout the mission. Saskia was the first to move, slowly pushing herself out of the chair and walking towards the exit. The only indicator that she had even been slightly disturbed by the events that had happened was the paleness on her face, and the wide-open eyes that tried to avoid everyone¡¯s gaze as she crossed the room. Allison shot a dangerous look at Dan before kicking her chair back from the table and storming off after Saskia. Dan briefly returned to his computer, before closing the lid with a little more force than necessary, and walked stiffly out the door. Alone in the room, I looked at the glowing green counter above the monitor. 71:52 hours until re-entry Chapter 2: A Fitful Sleep It wasn¡¯t the last time that I had felt trapped and enclosed by the metallic walls, but now it was accompanied by a sense of uneasiness- not fear, just that tight ball of stress and worry that manifested in the stomach. As soon as I was out of sight from the intermittently dotted security cameras, my nervous walk turned into a nervous almost-but-not-quite jog (I still had the necessary pride to restrain me from sprinting back into my room). Each of the crew members has their specific sector, which is where all of their specialised equipment and facilities are housed, as well as their sleeping quarters. And as the ¡®zookeeper¡¯ of this crew, I got a little more leniency as to how my sector was designed seeing as I had some extra ¡®guests¡¯ that I had to accommodate in my area. Thus, when the fingerprint scanner flashed, and the doors opened, I was no longer entrapped in an environment of steel. A narrow wooden bridge extended over an expansive lake, which slowly dissolved into swampy marshland. Birds, fish and assorted smaller mammals swam and waded through the marsh environment, bringing relief from the steel-plated corridors and electrical equipment that was the backdrop for the rest of the ship. This was the one place that I could come to and just relax a little bit, even knowing that we were floating around in the blackyness of space. It also helped to understand that no other member of the crew could enter here without my expressed permission, thus making my area a refuge that I had often used to escape the verbal wars that my colleagues loved to have. Although this time the words were much harsher ¨C probably not helped by the fact that it was about 12 am on the third last mission day. Walking across the bridge, a cuboid object built from cement quickly broke the naturesque illusion that the zoo conjured up. There was only so much that whining and complaining to the designers could do, and I had already stretched the boundaries ¡®naturalizing¡¯ the environment ¡®for the psyche of the animals¡¯- not complete bullshit, but enough that I gained a lot of greasy looks from the budget and design centres of SPACCA. With a press of my hand, a rectangular compartment of the cube depressed and slid to the side to reveal a regular office desk setup in one corner and a decent sized bed in the opposite. The floor, I managed to save from the horrid fate of the walls ¨C as I managed to cover it in carpet- however, the smooth grey walls received no such love and affection, leaving them bare and¡­ drab, if I had to pick a word. Face planting in the bed as the door slid shut behind me, the scene of the meeting replayed over in my mind. It couldn¡¯t be a joke from the technicians or anyone from SPACCA because the commander didn¡¯t do jokes- ever. And it was also a bit morbid for a joke, especially since in the last 72 hours before a ship entered the earth¡¯s orbit transmissions both outgoing and incoming were effectively blocked by the speeds that we were achieving- meaning we would not be able to check until we reached home. That left us with some issue with technology, or some sort of betrayal on the other side¡­ or something worse. I threw myself onto the bed, face first, and tried to get some rest. *** I woke up to Mason¡¯s voice through the intercom, summoning me to his medical bay. I rubbed my eyes sleepily, unsure of how I had managed to have such a smooth transition to sleep after the events of only 6 hours ago. Getting up from my bed, I again gave my thanks for the invention of the grav-drive, allowing for simulated gravity upon this vessel. Astronauts used to have to sleep in sleeping bags attached to the wall so that they didn¡¯t drift around the shuttle in days gone by. They also had to do an absurd amount of exercise each mission day to even begin to negate the effects of no gravity on their bones and muscles. Changing into fresher clothes out of the ones I hadn¡¯t bothered to remove last night (oops) I set off to Mason¡¯s sector. His sector was a special one, even compared to the high tech gadgetry in all our specific domains. His allowed for a segment that was accessible by the rest of the crew, not just himself, as well as his own private section. The rest of our areas were strictly no-interference zones with regard to other crew members unless expressed permission by the owner.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it After pressing my keycard to the door of Mason¡¯s area, I was quickly greeted by the blinding sterile whiteness of the medical bay and sizeable circular window looking out into space. Mason was sitting in the middle of the room upon a fancy looking office chair, and as I entered he glanced up from his clipboard. Gesturing towards a chair that sat in front of his desk he kicked off the ground with his feet to send his chair spinning to sit opposite the desk , in front of his computer. ¡°How long did that take you?¡± I said with a smirk- because knowing Mason, that would be exactly what he would¡¯ve dedicated his time to. ¡°Pure skill - But you wouldn¡¯t be able to recognise that, would you?¡± he replied as he flipped his hand dismissively. ¡°But in all seriousness ¨C we have work to do.¡± ¡°Alright, what do you want me to do?¡± he was right, this wasn¡¯t the time to stuff around. Looking at me seriously he turned around his clipboard to reveal some nasty looking lines of paperwork, and in bold words, at the top, the words Statutory Declaration of Willingness to Participate were emboldened. This was shaping out to be a lovely mission day, a possible death, and then a dying will in the form of many lines of bureaucracy. ¡°This form¡±, Mace explained, ¡°gives me permission to put you through the body scanner and then examine the results. Don¡¯t worry; it also involves a non-disclosure agreement on my side of the contract.¡± This was no time for embarrassment, and obviously it was some sort of protocol that Mace was directed to follow. Completely reasonable. ¡°You perv¡± I deadpanned, as I signed the sheet. ¡°I assure you- I will have seen worse. Now sign at the bottom and get your butt over to the machine in the corner¡± The machine in question was a human-sized capsule that jutted out of the wall, obviously restricting the mechanics and readings to Mason¡¯s private sector. As I stepped into the circular interior, the curved glass door that was previously hanging ajar closed itself and sealed the opening with a mechanical hiss. *** After what seemed like an hour of cool green lights languidly traipsing across my body, the glass opened with a hiss and I stumbled out into Mason¡¯s office. Blinking rapidly to try and recover my eyesight, I pulled myself back over to the chair and slumped down into it. Mason entered a few moments later, with a grimace on his face as he looked at a print out of what was apparently my results. Butterflies spawned into my stomach and started to multiply rapidly. This wasn¡¯t good. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Oliver¡± he began. The butterflies in my stomach turned up the tunes and began a rave. Oh shit. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to retract my previous statement- I¡¯ve never seen someone with a face as bad as yours.¡± ¡°Oh, you bastard. You absolute bastard. I¡¯m going to hate you forever- you know that right?¡± ¡°Nah I¡¯m too lovable to hate.¡± ¡°Just give me the results,¡± I said while grinding my teeth. With a smirk that I so dearly wished I could wipe off his face with some sort of perfectly timed comeback, he threw his clipboard spinning onto his desk as he dropped into his chair. ¡°Completely fine mate. Which is why I thought I¡¯d start with you- it¡¯s high time we start learning who we can trust¡± ¡°But-¡± I started, only to be cut off with an upheld hand and a point at his computer screen. The screen displayed the exact same type of report that sat on his desk now, showing a status. ¡°Best case scenario,¡± he began again ¡°We do the same thing three more times, and figure out the problem before we touch down on Earth.¡± ¡°Mmmm, I have no doubt that our perfectly functioning crew will all submit to this invasive scan and agree to the consequences if the scan turns up something other than clear.¡± ¡°Yeah look, I have a feeling that this ain¡¯t happening either. So at least we know that the both of us can trust each other. Now we just need to figure out a way to clear the three others¡­ without starting a massive throw-down.¡± And there was the problem. It was pretty evident from the legal jargon in the statutory declaration that forcing people into the scanner wasn¡¯t going to work. However, this was our only sure-fire way of clearing the other members, so we had to try to convince them in some other way¡­ or did we? ¡°But do we really have to clear everyone?¡± I asked Mason speculatively. ¡°Of course we do- Don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t remember the damned operation procedures on foreign contamination. Nothing steps-¡° ¡°Foot outside the shuttle before being cleared at least once- I know! But do we have to clear everyone?¡± ¡°No¡­ not specifically us- what are you getting at Ollie?¡± I looked down at my watch- breakfast time was only 10 minutes away. ¡°Let¡¯s walk and talk- I may have an idea.¡± Chapter 3: Dire Warnings 14 minutes later we all sat around the table- an impressive feat in itself. Although we were required to collect our meal, there were no such restrictions on when and where we had to eat it. So obviously dinner usually devolved into a one on one reflection session on our lonesome- which suited us just fine. Of course, that was until we learned that one of us was technically dead, a traitor, or had a malfunction ¨C or possibly all three at the same time. In other words, no one was really feeling in a talkative mood at that moment. Mason broke the awkward silence. ¡°Soooo¡­ we¡¯re kinda in a bad situation guys.¡± Silence. Allison snorted ¡°if the moment before shit hits the fan is merely bad, then yeah, you¡¯ve got my vote.¡± ¡°As my oh so eloquent friend over there put it,¡± began Dan, ¡°We¡¯re screwed.¡± Allison smiled sweetly at Dan while shooting him the finger. ¡°We all know the possibility of malfunction is extremely unlikely, and therefore we can assume that one of us is not who they say they are¡± concluded Saskia as she stared vacantly at the centre of the table. ¡°A traitor¡± Dan piped in, voicing what we were all hesitant to say. SPACCA was a large organisation, and did claim to be international- however, it was well known that there were numerous groups out there who believed that we were heretical or blasphemers to search for a home other than Earth. ¡°Woah there guys no need to be so hasty- it¡¯s only one possibility- not the only one! And besides, Ollie has a possible solution.¡± Everyone turned their gazes towards me, and suddenly I found the chair I sat in to be far more uncomfortable. ¡°We do have a full body scanner on board-¡± I had barely started before I was interrupted. ¡°Fuck that- I ain¡¯t getting my body scanned!¡± ¡°It would be moronic to walk into a sealed chamber in which one person has full control over the entire machine- and also over the results.¡± ¡°Perv¡± Mason stepped in. ¡°Let him finish guys.¡± Red-faced, I cleared my throat. ¡°But I didn¡¯t think you guys would like that- So I had a different idea.¡± I looked and Mason to check if he was ready. He gave me a subtle nod, so I continued. Pointing at the mission timer, I continued. ¡°We have a bit over 60 hours left until Earth- that¡¯s all. And all our sectors are inaccessible except by the inhabitant. I propose that we all stay in our rooms until the flight ends- Then leave it to the authorities to sort this problem out themselves.¡± As the group started to absorb my proposition, Mason and I looked at each other. The idea was that if there was a traitor and they wished to do something untoward they would likely need access to the rest of the ship. If it were some other reason, being in locked off sectors would further reduce damage or injury potential from whatever was causing the death reading. This would mean that whoever disagreed with the proposal had a higher chance of being the victim/traitor. Unfortunately, it seems the plan didn¡¯t account for the extremely recalcitrant nature of the group. ¡°Fat chance!¡± ¡°Not on your life.¡± ¡°No way.¡± Ah. Looking back on our previous social interaction, it was probably a pretty damn predictable outcome. ¡°What you failed to factor into the equation is that whomever the traitor is, they have the ability to foil our CMI. Therefore it is a reasonable assumption that they may be able to control components of the ship- ergo making us sitting ducks in our room,¡± stated Dan, staring pointedly at me. ¡°To be fair,¡± chimed in Mason ¡°It was a pretty long shot, but it is still the first suggestion we¡¯ve had. And we need to do something. Why don¡¯t we start with narrowing down the possibilities to the cause of this mishap? As a starting point, we can try to confirm at least that we are who we say we are.¡± ¡°Ah, I getcha- to prove that we haven¡¯t been switched out for some sorta clone before the mission was sent away, right? Well, I¡¯ll step up first then, the name¡¯s Allison and I¡¯m this ship¡¯s mechanic and repairs officer- they called it Construction Specialist back at Spacca. My job around here is to make sure everything is running smoothly, every cog turning right. Something most of you wouldn¡¯t know about me is that I hate spaghetti to the point of throwing up ¨C and Saskia here can prove that this was true back on Earth. Right Sas?¡± she nodded across the table to Saskia who returned that nod. ¡°If I may ask- why do dislike spaghetti so much? It was confusing that we had to order a substitute for spaghetti to one crew member¡± Dan asked curiously.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Bunch of bitches back in college poured the stuff all over me in the cafeteria- still brings back shitty memories to this day. I still literally can¡¯t eat it without throwing up. But if I do see those girls again¡­ well, I took martial arts for a reason.¡± The smile Allison gave somewhat resembled one of the Cheshire Cat ¨C but only if you removed it from the constraints of its PG-13 rating. ¡°Uhh¡­ right, well I¡¯m Mason, and I¡¯m the doctor on board. That¡¯s basically it concerning what I do. One thing you might not know is that I have xyrophobia. Which, while the word is great for scrabble games, it¡¯s less cool when it means that I have a deathly fear of razors. Ollie can testify- he was there when I got this¡± pulling up his shirt Mason pointed to a small scar on his left lower abdomen. Hmm who knew ¨C play sword fighting was much more fun with wooden swords. ¡°Yeah I was kinda involved in the process- that¡¯s the same scar.¡± Dan leant back on his chair with his arms crossed ¡°Well I don¡¯t have any cute little relationship secrets like you people seem to all have, but I do have the security login details and fingerprint confirmation for all my computers- all verifiable that they haven¡¯t been changed since my enrolment into Spacca in the IT department.¡± ¡°Well I guess that¡¯s my cue- my name, as you all know, is Saskia, and I¡¯m the geologist. I¡¯m here to study and categorise the samples we obtain. And Allison can confirm that the first words I said when we were accosted by our so-called ¡®fan-club¡¯ were ¡®please go screw yourselves¡¯.¡± ¡°Yeah, she said that alright- and lucky for you guys she skipped out on telling you the next few words she said. I ain¡¯t never seen a man turn red so fast and so completely in my whole life!¡± That wasn¡¯t hyperbolic language by any means- Saskia wasn¡¯t free with her words by any means, but when she found the need, not much could hold her back. ¡°lucky last, Ollie¡± prompted Mason, snapping me out of my reverie. ¡°Ah¡­ yeah, I¡¯m Oliver- the Zoologist. I¡¯m studying the effects of living in space on animals, as well as trialling some drugs to alleviate some of the negative effects-¡± Allison interrupted ¡°wait, hold up there- you tryin¡¯ any fancy drugs that might¡¯ve caused this whole shitstorm?¡± ¡°No! Nothing¡­ nothing that could¡¯ve caused¡­ this.¡± This wasn¡¯t good- I could see how this would turn out if I didn¡¯t manage to dispel all doubts about this. Thankfully Dan gave me the perfect opportunity ¡°what sort of specific effects are these drugs supposed to have exactly?¡± he inquired suspiciously. ¡°I¡¯ve only trialled two drugs this trip. One with the purpose of combatting the decline in plasma fluids throughout the body and the second attempts to increase brain function- besides, none of them were tested on anything other than geese, fish and a few land-based mammals. And unless the syringe was directly applied into my own body, I can¡¯t have had direct effect from the drugs!¡± After a baleful glare, Dan turned back to the rest of the group ¡°That puts us back at square one, so unless anyone has any further brilliant ideas, I suggest we retire this conversation and turn our attention towards the rapidly cooling breakfasts in front of us.¡± Whether no-one had any more ideas or no one felt like speaking, the mission group spoke no further words together that morning, as we all gathered our rations and started back to our sectors- all of us more solitary and on guard than ever in the flight. Even Mason, who I usually ate with, subtly shook his head to indicate we would be eating separately this morning. I took one final glance at the fluorescent green numbers above the monitor before I left the room. 62:43 hours to re-entry *** However as it turned out although I didn¡¯t eat dinner with Mason, I wasn¡¯t entirely left alone in my return to the animal sector. ¡°What¡¯s the long face for Ollie?¡± asked Allison, as if she wasn¡¯t fully aware of the ¡®little problem¡¯ on board this ship. ¡°I don¡¯t think now is the time for jokes, Allison.¡± ¡°Ah but now is just the time for jokes- stress isn¡¯t going to help us fix the problem at all you know!¡± She did have a point, but that still didn¡¯t explain why she was joking with me specifically- we had barely interacted after a particular incident that had occurred during the mission, and I didn¡¯t intend to start now. ¡°What do you want Allison?¡± I asked bluntly. ¡°Ah don¡¯t be so mean- don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re still mad about my visit to your sector?¡± she winked suggestively at me. That would¡¯ve made me blush on any other day- but I wasn¡¯t in the mood for any teasing or joking right now. ¡°You didn¡¯t even enter my sleeping quarters Allison- you and I both know you just came to see the animals. And I was never mad- It wasn¡¯t me who fell into the lake.¡± I could still remember the shriek she let out as she fell into the water after trying to get a little closer to the ducks. Needless to say, she didn¡¯t exactly wave a cheery goodbye to me as she left the sector. ¡°Then you¡¯ve got no reason to be so grumpy, then! I just wanted to have a little chat with you!¡± Allison was many things, but stupid wasn¡¯t one of them. If she hadn¡¯t brought up that either of us could be traitors, it was because she had a reason not to. And besides I wouldn¡¯t last five seconds against her, so she didn¡¯t have too much to fear if she thought I was the traitor. ¡°Well, what do you want to chat about then?¡± I said in an emotionless tone. ¡°Oh nothing in particular¡± she started sweetly, playfully grabbing my hand. ¡°Except I saw a strange thing happening just before our breakfast.¡± ¡°What was tha-¡± I started to say but was cut off by the crushing pain in my hand. ¡°I saw someone go to the doctor¡¯s just an hour or so after the video meeting. And I couldn¡¯t help but notice that they didn¡¯t look at all sick in any way? See I¡¯m just looking out for my fellow crew member¡¯s health- you wouldn¡¯t happen to know what sort of problems were dealt with in that office, would you now, Ollie?¡± ¡°It was the scanner I told you guys about! I swear that was all we did!¡± ¡°And you just so happened to trust Mason that much to be able to step inside a metal chamber in which he had full control over? You¡¯re either dumber than I thought, or you¡¯re a horrible liar- and I can¡¯t stand liars Ollie.¡± The crushing sensation magnified- but the smile continued to split her face. ¡°I swear!! That¡¯s all that happened!! He¡¯s not the- he can¡¯t be the traitor! I¡¯ve known him since we were kids!¡± The sickly sweet smile was gone now- and the glare that was on her face gave no indication as to whether she believed me or not. Luckily that was the moment that Saskia chose to respond to my yelling. ¡°Hey! What¡¯s going on here?¡± she asked as she rounded the corner. Allison gave me a greasy look, as if I had somehow managed to conjure up the help, and threw my hand back at me before turning to smile at Saskia. ¡°Nothing! I was just reminding Ollie here that we can¡¯t trust anyone now. I think he gets it, don¡¯t you Ollie?¡± ¡°Go screw yourself Allison.¡± ¡°Cute. Only in your dreams, hun, only in your dreams.¡± Turning, she lithely walked away without looking back. Saskia gave me a questioning look as Allison passed her- but must¡¯ve ultimately decided that it wasn¡¯t worth the effort, turning back to follow her. Leaving me alone in the corridor, clutching my bruised hand. Chapter 4: The First Casualties As much as I hated Allison for my now painful hand, she did have a point. Now, I¡¯m not one to immediately ditch his friends at the first sign of trouble, but perhaps some more logical thinking might be in order before hopping into said friend¡¯s metal death trap. Hell, the form that I signed could¡¯ve already meant that my ass belonged to him, legally anyway. The reality of the situation was simply that everyone had to be viewed with a healthy suspicion- healthy in the way that it might save my bacon somewhere down the line- until we figured who was ¡°dead¡± and why. And perhaps more importantly, what they wanted to do to us. It was precisely on that thought that I rounded the final corner before my sector and noticed that someone had beaten me to it- the thin, wiry figure of Dan leant against the entrance to my sector. My hopes of turning back the way I came were immediately quashed when his gaze that was previously focused on the device in his hands flicked up and caught my own. Somehow my time for popularity had reared it¡¯s ugly head at the time in which I least wanted it- surrounded by pain in the ass crewmates and a potential dead person. ¡°Well, well, Oliver. Quite the popular person you are today, aren¡¯t you?¡± Kinda nice to have someone else notice I suppose. ¡°But,¡± he continued, ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice your last interaction with another crewmate didn¡¯t end so peacefully. Perhaps it¡¯s time for widdle baby Ollie to jump back in his widdle cradle in his doctor¡¯s room?¡± That spiel sent a chill down my spine for two reasons- one, that he knew all that had occurred to me in the last 12 hours, in places that he couldn¡¯t possibly overhear, much less see inside of. And two, that a fully grown man was talking in baby talk towards me. ¡°Dan, you know exactly what that device does- it¡¯s how we know I¡¯m not the anomaly. But how do you know what goes on in private sectors?¡± I stressed the private- hoping he¡¯d get that he was violating major privacy codes and regulation. ¡°Oliver- I can¡¯t see into private sectors¡± he intoned, mocking me. ¡°That would be illegal- and surely you aren¡¯t accusing me of breaking international laws pertaining to human rights, are you, Oliver? Are you?¡± I internally rolled my eyes and let him continue on his triumphant monologue. Is supervillain complex a thing? The need to compulsively explain your every move and plan when you think you¡¯ve outwitted an opponent? Because this was a textbook case. A small frown crossed his countenance as I waited, apparently expecting some exclamation from me. Was this the part where I was supposed to yell ¡®You¡¯ll never get away with it, you dastardly villain!¡¯? ¡°As the technological expert upon this ship, one of my responsibilities is to monitor the camera feeds- which are only placed in public areas. Locations such as the dining hall, corridors-¡± he pointed behind me to a plexiglass bubble in the rut between the ceiling and corridor walls- ¡°and the medical bay!¡± he finished triumphantly. This was definitely the part where I was supposed to escape my bonds, surprising the villain - setting off some sort ingenious mechanism to destroy his hideout. Then I¡¯d escape the building as the camera zoomed out to follow me walking off in slow motion as the building crumbles behind me, with him yelling ¡°And I would¡¯ve gotten away with it too if it weren¡¯t for those meddling kids!¡± What can I say - I¡¯m a fan of the classics. ¡°Right. So you know I hopped in the device and that I¡¯m clear of an anomaly. So what¡¯s your point?¡± I replied, exasperated. It was honestly better just to get this over with, even if it meant giving him that satisfaction that he wanted. Then he held up his finger. Heeeere we go again. ¡°No- I don¡¯t! That¡¯s my point Oliver- only one person knows whether or not you¡¯re clear of any anomaly- and it isn¡¯t you or I!¡± He did have a point this time, unfortunately. And I wasn¡¯t going to refute with ¡®but I trust him¡¯ because of how well that turned out last time. But I wasn¡¯t about to give him the satisfaction of letting him notice my unease from the revelation. Call it petty if you will, or perhaps because the first step in treatment for SV (Supervillain) complex is not to give them the satisfaction- but I wasn¡¯t going to let him notice my discomfort. ¡°And what do you want now that you¡¯ve had your say?¡± I must not have formed a perfect poker face because he smirked before he started, obviously noticing that he had scored a hit.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°I have a device that can render people unconscious for a specified amount of time in my possession. This could then be used to sit out the rest of the flight home while you remain asleep, safe in your private sector.¡± ¡°Ok, but where¡¯s the catch? And why couldn¡¯t I remain in my sector of my own violation without the aid or your device?¡± Daniel smirked again. ¡°You¡¯d not make it without rations- and you know as well as I do about the metabolic strain this type of space travel takes on the body. My device would put you in a semi-cytostatic state, reducing your metabolic needs, and then further feed you nutrients via intravenous pathways. No catch at all- just a logical decision on my behalf, reducing the people I need to suspect and be on guard against for the duration of the trip home.¡± His reasoning was valid, but if he really thought I was going to use another unknown device under the control of someone else, then he was about as sharp as a marble when it came to people. And right now I wasn¡¯t up for a verbal t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte. ¡°That sounds like a great idea! Let me grab a pen to sign up for that- oh gosh darn it! And wouldn¡¯t you know it, I¡¯ve left my pen in my sector- would you be a gentleman and wait a moment while I pop in and grab it? Won¡¯t take a second!¡± I enthused as I walked through the entrance ¡°You¡¯re wasting a one-way ticket out of this mess, Oliver. I only have one of these devices, and I¡¯m not offering you again if you don¡¯t accept.¡± It turns out I need to practice my acting skills. Or maybe he isn¡¯t a perfect unsocial sphere after all. ¡°Won¡¯t be a moment!¡± I smiled as the door slid across, shutting in his face. * * * I breathed a sigh of relief as I fell down, exhausted, onto my bed. All of us were already starting to suspect each other- myself included. It would¡¯ve been a simple task for Mason to show me a false document or print out because; a) no one saw what results the machine spat out except for him, and b) I couldn¡¯t understand any of the report he showed anyway, except for the emblazoned across the bottom of the document. The antics so far hadn¡¯t been too bad- not as far as obvious and overt actions against each other at least. But it was clear that everyone was on guard against each other. And this was just the beginning- it would only get worse from here. And it would only continue to worsen unless we were to figure out who was the anomaly and whether it was due to some nefarious reason or through accident. But worrying about the issue wasn¡¯t going to help. Dad used to say worrying only causes you to feel twice the pain, one from worry and the other from the actual event if it happens. However, telling someone not worry is akin to telling someone with acrophobia not to be scared of heights. But regardless, worrying wasn¡¯t going to solve the problem, so I decided to do my final checks and inspection of the experiments. My task during the duration of this mission, as I had explained to the crew before, was to monitor the effects of prolonged exposure to the effects of space in various animal species. There were also drugs to trial, and it was my duty to record and notate any side-effects arising from the use of these, as well as compile a report to assess the effectiveness of the trials. Grabbing my clipboard and pen, I opened the door to my sleeping quarters and went to check out the animals. * * * Looking after the animals used to be the task I looked forward to the most every day. It was a relatively simple task, make sure each of the feeding stations had water and food, and check the biotag chip inside them for any fluctuations in health. But now, as I was using it as a distraction, the job made me feel anxious, speeding me along on the job instead of the usual slow, measured pace I used to employ. Touching the biotag monitor to the back of a possum, I noted down the ¡®healthy¡¯ status that the monitor screen flashed up onto my clipboard before moving over to the aquatic animals over by the lake. You¡¯d think that the types of animals brought into space for testing would be those used for colonisation, such as cows or sheep. And that was true, at least for the first hundred or so flights. There eventually came the point where Spacca had exhausted all the testing wanted to be done on those animals. Our graduation group were part of the second wave of ¡®explorers¡¯, and unlike the first wave where the focus had been on finding and colonising a planet, the majority of graduate ¡®explorers¡¯ of late performed menial tasks such as collecting extra data samples from already explored quadrants or performing trial drug and equipment tests in space. Our group was tasked with a bit of both, Saskia, Dan and I performing our trials and collection of samples while Mason and Allison were more there for support. Allison did perform some tests on the more mechanical equipment trials, but many of these were being phased out in favour of smarter technology, left in the hands of graduates like Dan. Sighing once more from the anxiety, I wearily looked for the swans, unable to find any at a cursory glance. Usually, they were one of the easiest to spot, the white of their feathers at odds with the murky brown of the lake they sat upon. After almost walking the full circle around the lake I saw the tell-tale white of their feathers. But upon closer inspection, I started to notice something odd- the birds weren¡¯t making any movements and were lying, washed up, on the bank. At a more hurried pace, I rushed over to the birds and placed a hand on one of their chests to check for a pulse. Finding nothing, I shakily pulled out my biotag monitor from my back pocket, berating myself for not having used it instead of manually checking for a pulse and wasting valuable time. But it turns out it didn¡¯t matter- the bird was dead. Here¡¯s a fun fact about swans- they float on water due to a particular water repellent oil secreted from a gland on their rump. Because of this, they sleep while floating in the water, since it requires no effort on their part to remain buoyant. Except, the biotag monitor indicated these birds died from asphyxiation, specifically ¡®Respiratory Impairment from being in or under Liquid¡¯. A bird that can¡¯t sink drowned. And this bird wasn¡¯t the only one- 2 other swans laid, washed up, on the bank of the lake. There were no signs of a struggle around the water, no bruised flesh that would indicate a forcible drowning by some sort of human intervention. The animals had killed themselves. Chapter 5: The Skills of the Trade I quickly grabbed one of the dead swans and carried it gingerly back to my sleeping quarters, where my research equipment was also stored. Placing the poor animal onto the surface of my workbench, I pulled out my record book which diarised the drug trials and experiments that had been undertaken during the mission. A quick check of the biotag indicated that the subject SWN354 had only been trialled with the drug for enhancing mental capacities. The clinical details on the Consumer Medication Information Safety sheet of the drug indicated that it was a relatively new drug, and was being tested for a private company- not for the general public market like most trial drugs aboard exploration missions. This meant that the owner or inventor of the drug had paid a stupendous amount of money in order to pay the academy to test their drug, but also to keep the results private. The drug claimed to increase docility of the animals by affecting the amygdala, the section of the brain linked with fear and aggression. This would theoretically reduce the animalistic instincts of the subjects, the idea being that it would reduce the effort needed to tend to unruly livestock or to placate the animals. The only possible side effects of the drug, according to the datasheet, was an increase in melatonin- making the animals sleepier, and in extreme cases; causing a lapse in brain functioning, aka brain death. But the swans died from self-induced drowning, suicide, an effect listed nowhere in the information sheet. The coincidences were stacking up. Firstly, the reportedly ¡®dead¡¯ crew member, then the unexplainable suicide of swans. All at the only time during the mission where there was zero possible contact with mission control down at Spacca. But this wasn¡¯t something that I was going to share with the rest of the crew- panic levels were already high enough without the unexplainable suicide of our avian friends. Someone had engineered this, and since they had orchestrated it all to occur during the time of complete radio silence, it was clear that they didn¡¯t want any warning or information to leave this ship. We were on our own, and with an entity that didn¡¯t want any details of this flight to make it back to Earth. We had to survive for a little more than 60 hours. Staying in my sector was theoretically safe, being only accessible to myself and those under my permission to enter. But I had some pretty compelling evidence- specifically three pieces of evidence- to tell me that the security on board this flight might not be as inaccessible as we were told. One of us could just wait until we were asleep and then kill us all without anyone knowing a thing. The solution, of course, was to have a partner and take night shifts. But that again left the apparent problem of who to trust? I carefully removed the swan from my workbench and walked outside my sleeping quarters and around the other to the opposite side of my quarters, to the cremation chamber attached. After depositing the bird and starting the machine, I walked back into my residency area and dropped onto my bed. * * * A figure paced around in the darkness, shoulders tight with tension, their walk hurried and hands fidgety. However, if one could see the eyes of the clearly agitated person in the dark, one would notice the juxtaposition between the body language and the lifeless, inattentive gaze. Suddenly, the pacing stopped, and the figure¡¯s head whipped around to stare through the long rectangular window that stretched along the entire corridor, out into the darkness. Slowly approaching the window, the figure outstretched their hand. But as the intercom sounded the hand quickly jerked back. ¡°All crew members to the command centre- I repeat, all crew members to the command centre.¡± With one last look through the window, the figure turned away and walked back down the corridor. * * * ¡°- I repeat, all members to the command centre.¡± That was the second time in the past 24 hours that the intercom had rudely awakened me. And this time, although it was only a nap, it was even worse because 1, it was Dan, and not Mason, waking me up. And 2, it didn¡¯t take a genius to realise some shit was gonna go down. Grimacing, I arose from the bed and stretched. Maybe a few mission days ago I would¡¯ve cared enough to change my clothes, but surprisingly, finding out that someone can sneak into your room and kill you while you sleep is a bit of a downer. The layout of the ship was such that we each had our own sectors, 5 in total naturally. There was also the Dining Room- where we collected our meals, the control room ¨C for monitoring the cameras as well as additional controls for docking/launching procedures, and the engine room. The Engine room wasn¡¯t generally open, and could only be opened by remote control from Spacca, or with the confirmation of all crew members. This was a contingency for worst-case scenarios- scenarios like this- where a single member would not be able to access the engine room and modify/sabotage the ship in any way on their own.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Opening the door to the dining room revealed Saskia to be the only crew member seated in the Dining Room. ¡°Have you got any idea where that pompous prick is?¡± she snarled. ¡°If you haven¡¯t seen him either¡­¡± I started. The door burst open as Allison stormed in, followed by Mason, less aggressively. ¡°We¡¯re in trouble¡± Saskia finished for me. As if on cue, the broadcast screen that was usually reserved for Spacca communication flashed, and a loading screen filled the screens with the words