A paneled office. That’s what he would buy himself, when he got that far.
What price must we pay, for inviting this new technology into our brains? What losses must we suffer, for compromising the integrity of the human soul? What dangers must we face, unimaginable to past generations, because we in our arrogance have seen fit to create them?
MAXWELL ONEGIN
Think Again! (Historical Archives, Hellsgate Station)
HARMONY NODE
SHENSHIDO STATION
THE LIGHTS flickered intermittently as Micah headed back toward the food court, and one time they went out for several long seconds, making his heart lurch in panic. He activated the flashlight on his headset. When the lights came back on it was still visible, as a narrow beam of glowing dust motes that swirled in the air currents like insects. He tried to stay focused on that, and on where he needed to go next, and not think about the claw marks he’d seen. But it was impossible.
Something had destroyed a whole room full of equipment, digging its claws deep into a plasteel wall. He didn’t know of any human Variation with claws that large, so it must be some kind of beast. Even now it might be picking up Micah’s scent, tracking him through the flickering darkness. Hunting him. Hopefully he could get off this damn ring and put some kind of barrier between him and it before it caught up with him.
When he got back to the food court it was darker than he remembered, with a patina of grime on the walls and floor and an atmosphere of imminent decay. Had he been so ecstatic to reach a place of safety, when he’d first arrived, that he hadn’t noticed how dismal the place looked? Even the air seemed different now: colder, clammier. Maybe the life support systems faltered when the lights went out. If so, a longer period of darkness could be deadly.
Just focus on getting off this ring. Don’t think about anything else.
As he passed the lock he’d come in through, he hesitated. He’d planned on leaving his evac gear here, but was that really a good idea? If the station’s life support failed . . .
Then I’m going to die anyway, he thought grimly. A near-empty oxygen tank won’t save me. Best to travel light.
A sudden scraping sound from behind made him jump. A high-pitched, nerve-jangling sound: claws on tile? He looked around the food court, desperate to discover the source, but saw nothing. Easy, Micah. You’re almost at the exit. Stay focused. The tube that led inward toward the core was positioned behind the one he’d arrived in; wouldn’t it be great if the former were fully functional, and a transport pod was waiting inside it to whisk him away? But no such luck. When he finally reached the tube he wanted, the door didn’t open as he approached. While he struggled to work the manual override controls, he heard the high-pitched scraping sound again. Closer this time. Stay focused, Micah. His hands were shaking, but he knew that his only hope of getting away from the source of the noise was to make it into the tube. Finally the door parted, revealing a dark and empty space. There was a maintenance ladder to one side of the entrance; as he swung himself over to it, he hit the control that would shut the door behind him, praying nothing would follow him through at the last moment. Nothing did. The door closed with a soft hiss, leaving him with only his headlight to see by.
He clung to the ladder for a moment, giving his pounding heart a chance to settle. For the moment, at least, he was safe. The climb down to the station was a long one, and he was already exhausted. He passed a transport pod at one point, a cylindrical capsule that had once carried commuters from the core to the ring and back again, now frozen in mid-journey. There was just enough space between the pod and the wall for him to squeeze past. Down, down into darkness he continued, until the ladder ended and once more there was a floor beneath his feet. He held his breath and strained to hear any hint of movement overhead. But all was silent. The beast that had ravaged the outer ring hadn’t followed him.
When he exited the tube the lights came on automatically, but dimly, perhaps at half-strength, revealing a small waiting room. The dust that danced in the thin beam of his headlamp was thicker than it should have been in the filtered air of a space station; life support systems might be working here, but they weren’t working well. He looked around the room, noting half a dozen static chairs and a water outlet. Nothing else. He headed to the outlet and took a deep drink, then squeezed a few inches of food paste out of one of his tubes. Cheesecake, the label said. It tasted vile, but getting some food into his stomach made him feel a little better.
He called up his map of the station, to see what his options were. Most of this section was taken up with offices and small labs, but there was a large complex not too far away that was labeled Engineering. Perhaps some kind of control center. If there were still any people on this station they might well be there, and if not, maybe Micah could find some working communication equipment. The thought of being able to call for help imbued him with new energy, and he fixed the map in the corner of his field of vision so that he could see it as he walked.
Empty. The station was so empty. It was a different kind of emptiness than in the ring, where one could imagine the human exodus was recent. The emptiness here felt . . . ancient. Absolute. As if he was hiking through a place humanity had forgotten.
But though humans were gone, other forms of life had apparently prospered. He saw several vents with dark vines protruding from them; one was low enough on the wall that he could take a closer look at it. He queried the innernet about it, but got no useful data. He prodded one of the vines, to see if it had the resilience of a living plant, and his fingers came away with a sticky black substance on them. He started to wipe it off on his shirt, then thought better of it, and wiped his hand on the wall instead. The parallel streaks he left behind were eerily similar to the claw-marks in the outer ring.
What the hell was this stuff, and how did it get into the ducts? The map indicated there were biological reserves on the lower levels, but those should have been sealed off. Especially if the station was used for scientific experiments. A sudden chill ran through him. What if the dust that was dancing in the beam of his light was organic? What if an experiment on the lower levels had gone wrong, releasing biological toxins into the air? That might explain why there were no people here. Though if they’d all died at once, there should be bodies lying around. And if it killed them one by one, over time, why hadn’t they called for help? He fumbled for the first aid kit in his pack to see if it contained a filter mask in it, but no such luck. Whatever was in the air here, he was going to have to keep breathing it.
He continued down the corridor. More and more vines appeared, hanging down from the ceiling in thick clumps; he had to duck to get past some of them. Black tangles clustered in corners, around the edges of vents and doorways, underneath lighting strips. The further he went, the more of the corridor they filled. Soon he would have to start clearing them out of the way if he wanted to keep going. Given the mystery gunk he’d just rubbed off his hand, he wasn’t anxious to make contact with any of the vines again.