20
Carrie and Colt made up pots of coffee and tea and plates of sandwiches, doing so in complete silence. Both their minds utterly consumed with what had just happened. Colt’s face was paler than usual and there seemed to be gray clouds where her sunny eyes had once been. Carrie could not erase the image of Smith’s dying face from her mind. It seemed to be stuck there, as though it were a broken-down slide show. She focused hard on the sandwiches trying desperately to expunge it, but her shaking hands and jittery heart were a constant reminder.
Colt spoke into the intercom and notified the flight deck that the food was ready. Harris responded, telling them he’d send the crew down, one by one, to fuel up. Carrie’s mind wandered to thoughts of Doc and how he was doing. She’d watched his face closely during the briefing. He had a haunted look about him as he sat there listening to Harris. When he got up to speak, his face and eyes were hard. The quiet devastation from before was now coupled with anger. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that things would be okay, but she knew they wouldn’t be. Smith was dead. And there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back.
Her thoughts pressed uncomfortably inside and a need to check on the lieutenant overwhelmed her. She felt as responsible for his pain as she did for Smith’s death. She poured a mug of coffee and grabbed a plate of sandwiches to take to him. As she made her way down the corridor, she met Carter, who now had some tape across his bulging purple nose.
“Broken?” she asked him.
“Well and fuckin’ truly,” he seethed, as he continued past her down the corridor. “I’ll break more than Fairmont’s nose when I see that fuck again!”
When she made Doc’s office, he was coming out of the examination room.
“Hey,” she said, throwing him a sympathetic smile. “I thought you could do with some fuel.”
“Thanks,” he said quietly, taking the coffee from her. “I need this.” He had a sip, then took the plate from her and walked over and placed it on his desk.
Carrie glanced into the hospital and saw Smith’s body still lying there under the sheet. Doc saw her looking at it.
“I’m going to take care of him now,” he told her, taking another sip of his coffee, then placing it down on the desk as well.
“Do you want a … a hand?” she asked him.
He shook his head, “No, I’m fine.” He walked back past her into the hospital.
“I’m sure Captain Harris won’t have a problem with me helping you in these circumstances.”
He stopped and looked around at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, perhaps curious as to where the comment about Harris had come from. “I’m sure he wouldn’t either, but you don’t need to see this stuff.” He continued over to Smith’s bed, and looked down to where he lay. “This is my job, Welles. I’ll deal with it.”
“Doc, we’re soldiers. Unfortunately, people die in our line of work. That’s a given. But it doesn’t mean we have to deal with it on our own.”
He looked at her for another moment. “Welles, this stuff stays with you. You don’t forget it once you’ve seen it.”
“It’s too late, Doc. I already did.” She stepped into the room. “Besides, with my, er, specialty, I’ve seen dead bodies before.”
Doc nodded. “You’ve seen enemies die … from afar. This is different.”
“So, I won’t look at him. I’ll look somewhere else. I’ll look at you.”
Doc stared at her again briefly, then looked back down at the sheet covering Smith.
She walked over and stood on the other side of the bed. “I’m still here because Smith came along when he did. I owe him this much. Now, what do you want me to do?”
“Jesus, you’re stubborn,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yes, I am. So what do you want me to do?”
He sighed. “Alright. Bottom drawer over there,” he pointed, “body bag.”
For some reason the words “body bag” struck her like an ice pick to the spine. So final, so horrible. Regardless, she kept any expression from her face, nodded, and moved to the drawer. She heard Doc flick on some gloves and start doing something behind her, but didn’t look around in case she saw Smith’s face. When she had one of the body bags in her hand, she made her movements obvious, so Doc would know she was coming back his way.
He was standing at the foot of the bed. He’d removed the sheet altogether and was now removing Smith’s boots.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, so how do you want to do this?” she asked.
“Lay it out on that bed,” he pointed to the bed adjacent, “and I’ll lift him over onto it.”
She nodded and laid out the bag. Once in place, she unzipped it, then she moved around to the opposite side of the bed facing Doc. She kept her eyes on the empty body bag in front of her, but could see Doc in her peripheral vision removing the heart monitor discs, and dragging the IV and blood bag away from Smith’s bed. He kicked a lever and wheeled the private’s bed alongside hers, keeping it away from the wall slightly. She focused hard on the medic’s face, trying to keep her eyes away from Smith. Unfortunately, she could still easily make out the dark red color that seemed to be all over him.
Doc looked at her. “Can you kick your lever and move the bed out a bit?”
She looked down, found the lever and kicked it, the wheels unlocked, and she moved the bed down to line up with his.
“You ready?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“Hold the bag open as wide as you can.” he told her, “and just … look somewhere else.”
She nodded again, still focusing hard on Doc’s brown eyes, and trying to ignore her peripheral vision.
“Have you had to do this often?” she asked, trying to keep her mind busy.
“Yeah, a few times,” he said, “but I never really knew them before their death. It’s never easy, but at least when they’re strangers you have a better chance of letting it go.”
“Yeah,” she nodded vaguely. “I mean, I’ve killed people, right. I’ve watched people die, but I never knew them, and they were bad people so it was easy not to care. I still think about them from time to time, but the only dead person I’ve seen that I cared about was my mum.”
Doc paused and looked up at her for a brief moment, but then continued on. He grabbed Smith’s feet and moved them across to her bed, tucking them inside the end of the body bag. Carrie moved her eyes to focus hard on the far wall.
“We had a viewing of her body before the funeral,” she continued. “I was glad I saw her one last time but … at the same time, I wished I hadn’t seen her like that. Dead. You’re right, you know. It doesn’t leave you.”
Doc looked up at her again, and their eyes connected.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she nodded and gave a half smile. “I’m just trying to distract myself.”
His eyes scanned hers skeptically, but he let his gaze go and continued on. He then moved to the head of the bed, slid his arms under Smith’s body, hooked his hands up around his shoulders, and lifted his torso over to the other bed. As he did, she felt Smith’s arm fall against her hand and she recoiled slightly. Doc quickly grabbed it and tucked it alongside the torso, glancing briefly at her again. He moved the other bed away and stood alongside Smith’s body, straightening it in line with the bag, then he reached down and started zipping it up. He paused for a moment as the zip reached Smith’s chin, then zipped it closed.
He looked up at her. “You okay?”
She nodded, swallowing. “What next?”
“I’ve got to move him into the cool room.”
He walked over to a door in the far corner of the room, which she had assumed was another storeroom. He punched in a code, the door unlocked and he wheeled Smith’s bed inside.
“Do you need a hand?” she called out.
“No, I got it,” he said.
She heard the sound of the body bag ruffling as Doc moved it, then she thought she heard the zip again. Was Doc saying a last goodbye? Maybe this was something he’d wanted to do alone? She looked over at Smith’s empty boots lying on the floor and felt a pang of sadness squeeze her chest.
After minute or two, Doc came back out of the room, wheeling the empty bed. Somehow the image of the empty bed turned her pang of sadness into a deeper pain, like a tearing of flesh right down to her gut. Doc closed the door, locking it. She looked from the empty bed to the locked door. Again, so final.
Doc began lining up the bed underneath its pod cover and locked the lever to hold it in place. She walked over to the other one and did the same, then looked down at the bloodied sheets.
“What do we do with these?” she asked, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.
Doc grabbed the sheets and pulled them off. She saw the mattress underneath was covered in plastic, and more blood sat pooled on top of it. Doc walked into the examination room to the window in the wall, and sent the sheets through it.
She stood looking at the bits of blood that had splattered onto the cupboards. “What should I clean this up with?”
He saw the stains on the cupboard and the mattress cover. “There’s some hospital grade disinfectant over there,” he pointed. “Make sure you put some gloves on first, though.”
She found the disinfectant, grabbed some gloves and paper towels and headed back to the cupboards. She eyed the pool of blood gathered on top of the mattress and paused. Smith’s body had been removed, but he was still here. She glanced down at his empty boots and pictured him in her mind, standing in the comms room giving her his awkward smile and flashing his slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes began to sting and she felt them begin to well along with the lump in her throat. She quickly pressed her eye with the back of her hand to remove the excess water.
“Is your eye hurting?” Doc asked, walking over to her. He placed his hand on the side of her face, his thumb lifting her eyelid open slightly, so he could examine it.
She quickly realized it was her bloodshot eye that she’d pressed. She grabbed hold of his hand and removed it from her face. “No, it’s fine. I’m just … it’s fine, really.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
He studied her for a moment, his brown eyes searching hers, then he looked down at his hand, which she was still holding. She released it, awkwardly, then turned to the wall and began cleaning it. Doc stood there for a moment looking at her, then cleared his throat and bent down to pick up Smith’s boots.
She cleaned the cupboards and mattress cover in silence, while Doc packaged up Smith’s shoes and locked them in the cool room with his body. He then began to pack up the IV and blood bag.
“I’m done,” Carrie finally said, looking at the clean cupboards and mattress cover. She scrunched up the bloodied paper towels and dumped them in the small clinical waste bin in the corner of the room then removed her gloves. She then scrubbed her hands and arms. She looked around the room. “Is that it? Shall I remake the bed?”
Doc glanced around. “It’s just the report work now. I’ll do the bed later.”
Carrie nodded. “I guess I better get back then.”
“Yeah,” Doc gave her a half smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No worries,” she smiled gently back, “and don’t forget your coffee, Doc.”
He glanced at the doorway to his office, where he’d left his ‘fuel’. “Ah yes,” he said, then returned his eyes to hers. He put on his best Australian accent, albeit softly. “No worries.”
Carrie gave him a warm smile and left. As she walked down the corridor she thought about how Doc seemed to be handling things okay. It should’ve made her feel better, but it didn’t. Her chest hurt a little, and there was a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Smith was still dead.
She felt her jaw tighten. Where was Grolsh? Where the hell were the survivors?
*
Harris eyed Bolkov intently, awaiting an answer.
“Captain, I see four possible points of entry for hidden access.”
“Where?” Harris moved to look over his shoulder at the floor plan superimposed over the basic hexagonal shape of the station that they had measured.
“There’s gap here behind Sharley’s office.” Bolkov pointed with his thick, rough, fingers. “Also here, behind labs. One here by mess hall, and one by rec area.”
Brown looked over his other shoulder. “Nah, the mess hall and the labs will be pipework space. The rec room space is probably air vents, as the main shaft is located here.” He pointed to an area close by.
“Well, that leaves us with only one area then?” Harris arched his eyebrow at Brown.
“It’s that easy?” Hunter queried skeptically.
“Wait, what about this space here?” Packham said, pointing to a small gap near to where one of the emergency exit doors lead onto the dock.
“That looks small,” Harris said.
“Well, what if it’s not a stairwell, but a ladder?” Colt offered. “Manhole size?” “I guess secret rooms need their emergency exits, too?”
“Hunter, bring up some camera footage of that area from when we first boarded,” Harris ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Hunter started scanning over the footage.
Harris looked back over at the plan. “What about these? Too small?” he asked Brown, pointing to some gaps behind the store and some of the other labs.”
“Nah, I think that’s pipework. The store will be an air vent or air well. But we can check it out. Without the structural drawings, I’m just guessing here,” he shrugged.
“Okay, got it,” Hunter announced.
Everyone looked up at the screen and saw Harris’s monitor as they approached the emergency exit.
“Alright, pause there,” Harris ordered. The image on the screen clearly showed the exit door and the wall beside it, which was jutting out a couple of foot.
Harris looked over at Brown. “That wouldn’t be pipework behind there?”
“Well, it could be,” he shrugged again, “but there’s no real reason for it to go there when it’s only corridor and dock. It’s worth a look.”
“Good work.” Harris gave Packham and Colt a nod. “Alright, so our guess is that the main access is behind Sharley’s office, with another exit by the dock. Hunter, get me footage of when we cleared Sharley’s office. We need to figure out how to access that space.”
*
Carrie walked out to the firing range. She kept picturing Smith lying in the body bag, kept seeing Doc take off Smith’s shoes, kept seeing the blood. She felt strange. Numb. It had been Smith who’d ultimately saved her from Grolsh, yet he was the one who was now dead. How did that come to be?
She picked up the laser pistol beside the range and fired. She barely aimed, she just shot. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, aimed again and fired. It felt somewhat therapeutic, as though she was breaking the ice shell of numbness around her with each shot. She ran over to the next range and snapped off a quick shot, she spun around and ran back to the first one and fired again. She walked a few paces backward, then swiftly stepped to the left and fired at that target, then she stepped to the right and fired at the other one.
Then she heard a noise behind her.
She spun around to the gym equipment and saw McKinley sitting there on a weight bench, sipping a cup of coffee, watching her. They stared at each other for a moment, before he put his cup down, stood, and strode in her direction. His cold stare and quick pace made her nervous. He looked as though he was charging straight for her, but as he reached her he skimmed past to the range console and brought up the targets on the screen. He turned and stared at her for the seconds it took to bring up the results. She stared back, trying to control her nerves, wondering what he was doing exactly.
When the targets came up, he examined them carefully. All 1’s. He looked back at her curiously for a moment, then moved right up close, towering over her.
“If you ever get the chance to get off this fuckin’ ship, you make damn sure you do that, out there!” he ordered in a low, tight voice.
She stared into his piercing blue eyes. They didn’t seem quite so cold now. Instead, they burned with a fiery anger, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her.
“I’d love to,” she told him firmly, although her throat was still tight.
“Good,” he breathed, then turned to walk back to the gym and his coffee.
“McKinley?” she called after him.
He stopped and turned around.
“I need you to officially issue me with my gun. I can’t shoot anyone without it.”
He looked at her, nodded, then waved her to follow.
*
When they got to the weapons store, Colt, who’d joined them, looked around like a kid in a toy shop.
“Which one can we have?” she asked eagerly.
“On the Aurora you have standard issue,” McKinley said, walking over to the UNF pistols. “When you go off the ship, they get bigger.” He picked up a pistol and checked that it was loaded. He handed it to Colt, along with a box of clips, then did the same with Carrie. He turned, got one more set and handed it to her. “For Packham,” he said. “Now I’ve officially issued you with your gun. We’re done here.”
McKinley headed back to his coffee, while Colt and Carrie headed back to the flight deck. As they entered, they saw the team watching an enhanced version of Harris’s headcam footage. It appeared to be Sharley’s office. Harris glanced over at them and then back at the screen. Carrie handed Packham her gun and clips. The sergeant checked the gun was loaded, then stood up, tucked the pistol down the back of her pants and left the clips on the console.
“What about the picture frame?” Brown asked.
“Perhaps underneath desk,” Bolkov offered.
“Noticeboard,” Hunter suggested.
“What are we looking for?” Colt asked.
Packham leaned over and filled them in quietly, whilst Harris continued to stare at the screen.
“We’re not going to know until we go back in there and try, captain!” Louis said impatiently.
“Time is money, Louis,” Harris said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “We need to know what to try before we get there, in case we come under attack.”
“What if the access requires some sort of security code?” Carrie asked.
“We’ve got equipment for that,” Harris told her, eyes focused on the screen. “Smi— Brown … will get us in.”
The room fell silent.
*
Harris walked into Doc’s office. The medic sat at his desk in front of some e-files. He looked up at Harris, but nothing was said. Harris glanced into the hospital and saw that Smith’s body was gone.
“I’ve just finished the report,” Doc told him. “You want to sign it off while you’re here?”
Harris walked over and sat down at the desk. Doc handed him the e-file and he scanned it. His eyes jumped to the “Cause Of Death”. It read:
Massive blood loss due to ruptured int. jugular vein. Cause of rupture unknown.
He quickly scanned the rest of the report.
“I’ve also done the reports for Welles, Carter and Louis,” Doc told him.
“What was Louis’s injury?”
“It certainly wasn’t a gun or a knife. He said Chet just ripped at him with his hands and teeth.”
“His hands and teeth?”
Doc nodded. “His wounds looked like an animal attack; teeth marks, scratches, bruising.”
“And that’s what happened to Smith?” Harris furrowed his brow.
“I guess so.” Doc sat back in his chair. “They appear to like going for the jugular … not unlike a lot of hunters in the animal kingdom.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
Doc shrugged. “Given their strength? You’ve seen what desperate and psychotic people will do in battle situations, Saul. Anything goes.”
“But Chet failed with Louis?”
“Louis’s stronger than Smith. Maybe he just put up a better fight? Then again, Logan did seem a lot more aggressive than Chet.”
“Yeah, or maybe Chet just hides his aggression better?” Harris said skeptically.
Doc shrugged again and sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “Why didn’t Grolsh kill Welles? She’s weaker than Smith. It would’ve been easy for him.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s not as adept as the others. Maybe Smith coming along spooked him.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Doc said, shaking his head. “Smith was taken down in an instant. I think if Grolsh wanted to kill Welles, he would’ve done it. He very clearly choked her. There was no tearing at her neck, and in the end he let her go. I don’t think he was trying to kill her.”
Harris shrugged. “I don’t know, Doc, but I think we’ve found out how to get to them.”
“Yeah.”
“We found two spots. One we think is a main entrance, the other a smaller, secondary route.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“We go, figure out how to get in, then we try and smoke them out.”
“What if the missing crew are up there being held prisoner?”
“Then they’re all incapacitated for a while, but they’ll live. We’ll have two teams. The main one on the entrance, and a smaller one on the secondary access route.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 00:16. Let’s go and end this shit.”
*
Carrie stared hard at the floor plan. If she ever got the chance to go on the Darwin, she wanted to know it like the back of her hand. She wanted to know every possible place someone could hide and attack from. Of course, the floor plan was only for the ground floor. What the second floor held was anybody’s guess.
Harris, Doc and McKinley entered the flight deck.
“Listen up, people. We’re going to do this, and we’re going to do it now. We’ll move out in two teams. Team one will focus on breaking through from Sharley’s office and that team will be myself, Doc, Brown and Louis. Team two will be at the secondary route and that team is McKinley, Carter, and Bulk? I’m calling you up!”
Bolkov nodded. “Sir!”
Carrie looked at Harris, who registered her look of disappointment.
“Welles, you are injured.”
“So are Carter and Louis, sir?”
Harris shot her a stern look.
“Yes, sir,” she said, looking him in the eye, controlling any emotion she felt. She glanced over at Doc, wondering whether he’d said anything to Harris. He looked back at her, but she couldn’t read his face. She glanced at McKinley too, but he, like Doc, was unreadable.
“Let’s move out,” Harris yelled.
She watched as they all left the flight deck. She didn’t say anything; didn’t complain or sigh. She was going to handle this differently. She moved to stand behind Hunter and Packham, who both glanced at her as she did. She avoided their eyes and stared hard at the screen as the headcams began to click on, one by one.
She watched as the teams re-armed themselves with laser-fire rifles and bullasers, and headed for the exit.
They did their two-by-two cross-cover as one group. Slowly and without incident, they reached Sharley’s office, then McKinley’s group broke off and continued on around to Section Three and the emergency exit. Carrie and the team on the flight deck watched the monitors carefully, but the Darwin was empty. Deathly quiet. Eerie.
“Well, both groups have made their targets easy,” Hunter noted. “That’s either a good sign or a bad sign …”
Carrie, Packham and Colt exchanged glances.
Together, they watched both groups as they got to work trying to find a way to enter the hidden spaces. McKinley stood guard as Bolkov and Carter searched for theirs. In Harris’s team, Louis stood at the door while Harris, Doc and Brown tried to find a way into their space. Brown was inspecting the picture frame on the wall, Doc was feeling his way around the desk and Harris was running his hands along the noticeboard. Suddenly they heard a clicking noise.
“I’ve got something,” Harris said quietly, and he began rotating the noticeboard around from a landscape to a portrait position. They heard another noise and the wall which Brown had been inspecting started to rise up. Doc, Brown and Harris stepped back and snapped up their guns.
Suddenly a loud, high-pitched squeal pierced their ears. The comms went dead, and the power blacked out on the Aurora.
“Fuck!” Hunter called out into the blackness.
*
Harris yelled in pain at the squealing in his ears. “Aargh, jeez!”
He glanced around and saw the other men were holding their earpieces away too. As soon as the high-pitched squeal stopped, static filled their ears.
“What the fuck was that?” Louis winced.
“Flight deck, do you copy? Over.” Harris spoke into his headpiece as he put the earpiece back in. Static continued. He looked over at Doc.
“Maybe it’s got something to do with the wall?” Doc suggested, eyeing it.
Harris looked over to where the wall had risen. Behind it, the closed doors of an elevator.
“Brown, get over here and help me open this fucker,” Harris ordered. “Doc, keep trying to raise the flight deck!”
*
Carrie, Hunter, Colt and Packham sat on the flight deck in darkness, until the emergency lighting slowly blinked on. At first it bathed them in a dim red hue, but it slowly blanched out into a bright white again.
“Okay, where are the screens?” Hunter asked anxiously. “Where are our comms?”
Packham’s hands flew around the console hitting buttons and flicking switches. “I’m not getting anything. It’s dead!”
“Fuck, we’re blind here. We gotta get the comms up and we gotta get them up now,” Hunter yelled. “What else is down?”
“I can’t re-connect to the external power source,” Packham told him. “We’re on the Aurora’s power cells right now.”
“Colt, you know where the comms panel is, down below in the cargo hold?” Hunter called over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” she answered.
“Check it out! Welles go with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carrie and Colt ran for the cargo hold. They knew the ship was locked down, but they moved swiftly, arms out in front with handguns ready, doing a cross-cover past each doorway. When they made it to the hold, Colt ran to a structure in the corner, swiped her pass and opened the glass paneling that covered a board of buttons, switches and cords. She started running her fingers over every item, checking them and mumbling to herself, while Carrie kept her eye and gun on the door.
“There’s nothing wrong here. It looks fine,” Colt said with a sense of urgency. “We better head back.”
As they reached the top of the stairs, Colt stopped at the intercom and tested to see if it worked. It didn’t.
“Shit! The entire system is down,” she said. “Even the internals.”
They made their way back to the flight deck assuming the same cross-cover, Colt facing forward and Carrie watching behind them, gun in hand, heart racing. As they reached the flight deck, Hunter called out to them.
“Talk to me, Colt!”
“The panel’s. It’s not burned out and everything’s still connected.”
“Fuck,” Hunter hissed, looking over the console again, thinking.
Packham, Colt and Carrie eyed each other nervously in the silence. Hunter ran his hand over his mouth, his mind struggling to find an answer. He looked up to the ship’s dead security monitors and stared at them. After a moment, he seemed to surrender himself to a resolution, exhaling measuredly and standing up.
“I gotta go out to the external power source and take a look,” he said. “I can’t leave the guys blind out there.”
“But what if they did this?” Packham asked worriedly. “What if they’re out there? It could be a trap.”
“I’ll cover you,” Carrie offered quickly, as though a knee-jerk reaction, her heart beginning to race even faster.
Hunter looked over at her.
“I’ll go, too,” Colt nodded.
Hunter looked at Packham. “Lock the flight deck when we leave. Lock the ship down, too. I’ve got the access codes.”
Hunter grabbed his gun from beside his chair and double-checked it was loaded. He turned to Carrie and Colt. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked firmly.
“Yes, sir,” Carrie said with conviction.
“Let’s get the comms back on,” Colt said, equally assured.
He nodded, then started up the flight deck stairs.
They stopped briefly at the weapons store to grab three bullaser vests, then continued on to the Aurora’s exit. As they reached it, Hunter stopped and turned around to them.
“Welles, you and I go first and we cross-cover. Colt, you follow and watch our back. Stay close to the ship. Do not go out in the open!”
They both nodded in return.
“Okay … one, two, three!” Hunter hit the lever and both he and Carrie aimed their weapons out the door.
*
Harris looked over at Brown.
“It’s not working, captain. It won’t read it for some reason,” he said, looking down at his equipment, as static continued to filled their ears.
“Don’t stop. Keep working on it,” Harris barked.
“Flight deck, do you copy? Over,” Doc called again into his mouthpiece, as he paced the room, eyeing Harris with concern.
Harris could feel himself mirroring the concern, while that funny feeling settled into his stomach again.
“It might not just be us, captain,” Doc told him. “McKinley’s team could be running blind too.”
*
Carrie, Hunter and Colt slowly made their way onto the dock. Carrie’s eyes darted about everywhere, searching for a target. Then she paused and held very still, focusing on one spot, waiting for something to move around in her peripheral vision. Nothing. She made eye contact with Hunter and he nodded at Colt to hit the lever and close the door behind them.
They made their way along the dock slowly, around to the front of the ship, sticking close to it as Hunter ordered. There were no signs of any of the survivors. Everything was quiet, the dock deserted. They reached the front of the ship and looked over at the external power source on the wall of the Darwin. It seemed okay from a distance, the lights flashing normally. Hunter then followed the power source cable to where it was connected to the ship, beside the anchor. It looked as though it was still coupled, but Carrie only glanced at it, quickly turning around to scan their perimeter again.
“Cover me,” Hunter said, as he tucked his weapon down the back of his pants and knelt down to get a closer look. Carrie and Colt watched either side of the ship. Carrie’s eyes darted about looking for a target, then she paused again, focusing on the one spot. Still no movement in her periphery.
“External power source is fine, so it has got to be something in here,” Hunter said quietly, as though to himself, poking and prodding around the anchor. After a minute or so he hissed, then stood and turned around to them. “Fucking connector chip’s gone. They’ve ripped it out!”
Just then, something heavy collided with Hunter in a sickening thud, knocking him down to the ground. It was Fairmont. He’d come from on top of the ship. Carrie flashed her gun up to see if there were more, but saw no-one. She spun back around and tried to take aim as the two rolled about wrestling on the ground. Her eyes shot up to Colt, who was trying to take aim herself, and saw Grolsh quickly moving up behind her. For a nanosecond Carrie froze at the sight of his scratched face, a shiver shooting down her spine.
“LOOK OUT,” she yelled at Colt, then quickly spun around to check whether someone was creeping up behind her as well. No-one. She turned back to Colt and saw her struggling with Grolsh over her gun. A hail of bullets fired, ricocheting off the ship’s protective coating, sending Carrie scrambling for cover. She saw Fairmont throw a hard punch at Hunter’s already bloodied face, knocking him onto his back, barely three meters in front of her. In one swift movement, he grabbed Hunter’s arm and twisted it, snapping it like a twig. Hunter screamed in pain and looked down at the bone protruding slightly from his arm. As Fairmont knelt over him, Carrie saw a clean shot and fired. It caught him in the shoulder. He grunted in pain and reeled back. Fairmont looked down at his wound, flashed her a ferocious look, then growled as he swiftly got to his feet and lunged for her. Heart racing, she quickly took aim again and fired. She saw part of his head blow away, then his body swirled and fell limp to the ground with a thud.
Hunter glanced at Fairmont’s body, then shot Carrie a surprised yet grateful look. With teeth clenched, he grabbed the gun out of his pants with his good arm, groaning in pain as he did. Carrie turned back to Grolsh and Colt. Grolsh was behind her, his arm around her neck, her nose bloodied and he was pointing her gun at Carrie. He started shooting and she ducked back for cover. She saw Hunter scrambling for cover too, pulling himself along with one arm, trying to get to his feet. She stepped out to cover him, but Grolsh fired again sending her back. Then she heard more gunfire and saw Hunter’s body bounce in unison.
“NO!” she screamed.
She watched in horror as his body slumped to the ground and pools of blood quickly formed over the back of his good arm and the side of his thigh.
*
Harris saw Louis straighten and look carefully down the corridor.
“What the fuck was that?” Louis blurted.
Harris stared hard at him. “What?”
“It sounded like gunfire,” Louis said.
“Where?”
They all stopped and listened. They heard it again.
“It’s coming from the dock!” Louis exclaimed.
“The dock?!” Harris asked. “Fuck! Fall out! FALL OUT.”
*
Carrie watched as Grolsh started to back away, dragging Colt with him. She couldn’t let him take her. Panicking, she stepped out and started firing around him to try and scare him.
“DROP HER,” she yelled.
Grolsh held Colt tight in front of him and started shooting back, and again Carrie was forced to duck for cover. Colt continued struggling with him, as he tried to drag her away. She started flailing her elbows at his ribs and scratching at his face. Whilst Grolsh was distracted, Carrie slowly stepped out and tried to take aim again. He saw her making her move, though. He went to raise the gun back up to her, but Colt knocked it out of the way and they began to struggle with it again. As they did, more shots fired and ricocheted off the Aurora. Suddenly she saw Colt’s body bounce and swing back. Grolsh looked down at her, wide-eyed and pulled her body back up to face him. Blood quickly oozed across Colt’s neck and down her arm.
“NO! COLT,” she screamed.
“FREEZE!” she heard another voice shout, and turned to see McKinley at the open exit door with his gun on Grolsh. Bolkov and Carter were behind him.
Grolsh looked a little panicked now, his eyes darting between Carrie and McKinley. He kept moving back slowly toward the second emergency exit on the dock, keeping Colt’s limp body close to his. Carrie saw him suddenly look up high, as a rain of laser fire hailed down upon them. McKinley was forced to retreat back into the first emergency exit and shut the door. Carrie took cover alongside the ship and when she looked back at Grolsh, saw him dump Colt’s body to the ground and disappear through the second door, which had somehow opened for him.
“COLT,” Carrie yelled, as Harris’s team appeared at the main entrance of the Darwin. They were looking around the dock, guns in the air, then over at Carrie and the three bodies lying on the dock with her. Doc immediately ran over to Colt and knelt down beside her.
Carrie heard Hunter gargle in pain, where he lay on the floor. She dropped her eyes from Colt and rushed forward to him. She rolled him over and he opened his eyes, groaning, his face bloody, bruised and swollen. She saw McKinley was back out and both his and Harris’s teams were providing cover, so she tucked her weapon away and placed her hands over Hunter’s arm and leg to stop the bleeding. She looked over at Doc, who lifted Colt’s body off the ground and handed her to Brown, who began running toward the Aurora with Louis in tow providing cover. Doc turned and ran low toward Carrie, glancing over at Fairmont’s body as he did. He dropped down by Hunter’s side and saw the bone protruding from his arm and Carrie’s hands on his bloodied bullet wounds.
“We have to get him inside,” he told her hurriedly.
Bolkov ran over to them, from McKinley’s exit door.
“Help me get him inside, Bulk,” Doc called out, then he turned to Carrie. “Try and keep your hands there.”
Bolkov grabbed Hunter’s torso and Doc grabbed his legs and they lifted him up, as he groaned loudly in pain.
*
Harris watched as Doc, Bulk and Welles rushed Hunter onto the Aurora. He’d heard Hunter groaning in pain. That was a good sign. That meant he was still alive. He looked over at McKinley who was scouring the walls of the dock, looking for someone, as he slowly made his way over to him.
“What the fuck happened?” Harris asked, standing next to Fairmont’s dead body, as his eyes and weapon still searched the walls for a target.
“I don’t know. We heard gunfire, got the door open and saw Grolsh and Colt struggling, then him trying to take off using her as a shield,” McKinley said looking down curiously at Fairmont’s body. “I think he went through that exit.” He pointed to the opposite door from which he’d come.
“We need to get to that fuckin’ hiding space!” Harris hissed. “Did you have any luck?”
McKinley shook his head, just as Bolkov came running back off the ship.
“Captain! You come quick!” he yelled.