Warhawk's Amnesty - Ch. 2 - Descent - Final

It wasn’t loud from inside the capsule, but the unexpected thud rang along the surface of the pod while the echo bounced inside the interior of the room. Seb opened his eyes, slipped his head out of the forehead restraint, and leaned to the viewport inside his soon-to-be coffin. Unfortunately, the window was already fogging over, making it difficult for him to see what had happened. As he looked through the opening, the red clash of blood against the full-white suit of the technician was similar to a drop of whipping cream on a strawberry gelatin.

Seb couldn’t get a good enough look to recognize the man standing at the center console, but the tight officer’s uniform was apparent enough. The technician’s killer made motions across the room’s control panel before the retrieval system activated. The robotic arm slid down the length of the room before stopping in front of a group of pods along the opposite wall from Seb’s. In systematic motions, it reached out, clasped on to one specific pod, and pulled it into the middle before the system slid back to the control area. The arm set its bounty in the middle of the room, retreating into the ceiling with its task complete.

Seb sneezed when the sickly sweet smell of the inhalation anesthetic itched the inside of his nose. He could feel his heartbeat thumping in his neck, and it soon felt like thousands of ants were crawling all over his body. He groaned before shaking inside the pod violently, trying to keep himself awake.

When he looked back out the viewport, the officer was helping the prisoner out of the capsule. He couldn’t tell who the prisoner was, but standing next to the officer, it was clear that the inmate was much larger. His massive frame towered over his rescuer.a With the captive stable enough, the two men turned and took off out of the cryo room, opposite of the way Seb entered.

What just happened? Seb wondered, slumping his head to the back of his pod. Whatever it was, he didn’t have time to worry about it now. Three sequential booms shook the foundation of the ship, slamming Seb’s head into the side of his container. The ship made its displeasure known, sending an internal groan throughout its central core.

“This day just keeps getting better and better.”

The emergency sirens blasted over the intercoms. The two whooping squawks of the escape siren were intertwined with the general alarm, bringing about an audible chaos that made Seb appreciate he was still in the pod. He started in a coughing fit, pulling at his restraints as he fought to counter the weakness that flooded his body with every breath.

Another two explosions followed, plummeting the entire ship into darkness. The hum of the ship’s internal systems faded to the groan of a steel beast floating endlessly in the void. Seb felt weightlessness, telling a loss of the ship’s artificial gravity. There was no longer a high-pitched whistle of the gas being released into his chamber. There was only the grinding drone of the wounded craft.

If there was any moment to press his luck, this was it. Seb pulled at the bindings holding his arms and legs. Thanks to the cheap, powered locking mechanism, he jerked free after a few strenuous tugs. His mind spun as his increased breathing brought him closer to his eternal sleep.

“No!” Seb shouted. “You’re not dying here.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, shimmied down to the bottom of the capsule, and pressed with his legs as hard as he could. The frantic breaths of air between his teeth whistled as the stress caused the pain to flair from his previous injuries. However, his efforts were met with a grating howl as the fulcrum point of the pod’s door raised upward. Seb pressed until the opening was just wide enough for him to slip through. Once he was out, he didn’t smile or laugh; his hand only gripped tight to the edge of his pod.

The complete darkness he found himself in was almost worse than being locked inside the chamber. At least in there I knew where I was, he thought. He took a few minutes to breathe, letting the fog in his mind clear with the room’s clean air.

With his mind clear, Seb guessed his positioning relative to the floor. He remembered being in the third row of pods some thirty feet in the air, and while the fall wasn’t likely to kill him, his bruised body had already suffered enough trauma. He reached his legs down underneath his pod, swiping side-to-side until he felt the top of the case below him. He envisioned pushing downward, grasping each pod as if he were scrambling down a wide pole.

With the inside of his feet firmly gripped on the pod below him, Seb let go and began sliding himself down. He heard a familiar, faint click off into the distance that slowly rose in volume. Recognizing the tick of the emergency lights coming on, he desperately pressed himself downward, hoping to speed his descent. When his feet didn’t hit a pod beneath him, panic set in as he plummeted farther.

Despair washed over him as a terrible thought entered his mind. What if he had gotten confused about his direction and was actually ascending into the room? Perhaps he was floating fifty feet toward the ceiling. When the red emergency light filled the room and the gravity restored, Seb’s feet touched the ground. He stumbled backward, letting out a hearty laugh, which helped ease his nerves.

He winced as the laughter radiated pain around his back and chest. Seb wiped his hand across his face, covering his fingers in blood. As he stood there and the remnants of the inhalation anesthetic wore off, Seb realized just how much pain he was in. His face and head throbbed, his chest and back ached, and he was certain he was covered in bruises. He surveyed the room, focusing on the two doors leading in opposite directions. On the wall opposite the one he entered was a metal box with a red plus sign on it.

Seb shuffled across the room, passing the dead technician on the way. His eyes were wide open, as if shocked from beyond the grave at the revelation of his killer. Seb ignored the corpse for now, his pain consuming his attention.

When he reached the metal container, he unclasped the door, revealing a black, folded kit secured with a strap and two metal rings. Inmate 5313 turned, pressed his back to the wall, and slumped to the ground. He pulled at the strap and unrolled the kit, revealing two stim pens secured behind plastic. The bottom of the medical kit was stamped with GLB’s mascot, which comprised of a cheerfully animated face drawn on one of their stim pens giving the phrase ‘Why try one, when you need them all?’

Seb read aloud the fine print under the colorful image. “Glaxo-Liili-Bayer’s proprietary blend of stimulants and analgesic are shelf stable and do not counteract either’s efficacy in vivo. For use by humans ONLY! By utilizing our product, you agree to GLB’s terms and conditions.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the last line, knowing full well the list of side effects these stims likely caused. It didn’t matter too much, though. His options were limited thanks to the empty pouches lined before him.

Hastily written on a piece of tape above each pen were functions they seemed to be designed for. Luckily for Seb, the two remaining pens were labeled ‘pain’ and ‘energy,’ respectively. The others missing included ‘strength,’ ‘hemo,’ ‘focus,’ ‘regen,’ ‘detox,’ and ‘aio.’ He pulled the two pens from their plastic sleeves before reading the instructions on the side. Remove the pen cap, place the tip firmly against the middle of the thigh, press the plunger on the back of the pen, and hold for three seconds.

“Easy enough, let’s hope these are still good,” he said. Seb flicked off the tops of both of the stims before plunging them in separate legs. The effects were immediate, causing Seb to shout because of the sudden rush of energy. It was surprising how good he felt. But that feeling of relief soon faded with the return of the siren’s belch.

The siren proceeded through the previous cycle, halting once a stoic voice echoed across the intercom. “WCC Redeemer, this is Captain Olysseus Hawthorne. I am assuming command of the ship. The entire bridge has been destroyed, and we have lost complete control. We’re currently set to enter the atmosphere of Inoi 3 in less than fifteen minutes. The ship will not survive atmospheric entry.”

An audible sigh rang through the speakers. “It’s due to that reason I am ordering all remaining crew to abandon ship. Head to the nearest lifepod, navigate to Inoi 3, and activate your emergency beacons. I will stay behind with the ship and initiate prisoner vent protocols. It’s been an honor serving with you all. May the Maker watch over our souls.”

“Prisoner vent protocols?” Seb asked. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it means.”

As if in response to his question, the room’s lighting shifted from red to white. Seb jumped to his feet as the center console lit up, and the pods were pulled back to the wall, creating symmetrical rows and columns. Like a round being chambered in a rifle, pod-sized holes opened up under each column of pods, and unknowing prisoners were chambered inside. Seb felt the floor shake as the pods jettisoned from the ship. With industrialized efficiency, the hundreds of containers that were lined on the walls were gone in seconds.

“I gotta get out of here,” Seb said, turning around and looking through the doorway. The corridor behind him was filled with fire and smoke, leaving him with the only option to return from whence he came. He turned and sprinted to the opposite side of the fridge. The corridor was red with the emergency lighting, but he couldn’t see any issues.

He looked down at the door display that was lit because of the return of power. He swiped at the controls, only to receive a buzzing error sound. Realizing he needed a key to open it, Seb turned and looked at the technician’s body. He ran over, grabbed the arm containing the WICI, and pulled the body to the door.

When he was close enough, the door opened, and Seb pulled the arm through. However, he stopped as he looked down at the body. What am I doing? he asked himself. I’m not going to be able to carry this thing the entire time. Seb looked down at the body and then back at the door controls.

“Sorry buddy, but I don’t need to bring you with me,” he said, pushing the body far enough back to where the arm sat underneath the mechanical door. Seb turned to the door controls and set it to close. A warning message popped up, noting it detected an obstruction and confirming that he wanted to close it. Seb hit ‘confirm’ and was rewarded with a spray of blood across his white jumpsuit.

“Don’t think about it,” Seb reassured himself, picking up the arm. “It’s just a severed hand. You’ve seen worse.”

An ancillary explosion, which came farther from within the ship, pulled Seb’s focus as he turned and sprinted down the hallway. When he reached the block station, he slowed down, noticing the hologram’s security feeds. Each hologram cycled through another feed after five seconds, showing Seb what the captain really meant. They had detached every cell from the ship, leaving only barriers between the common area and the vacuum of space. They spared no single block. Anything that wasn’t bolted to the floor was gone.

There’s no coming back from that, Seb thought, shaking his head. None of the cells have preservation systems. Maybe getting put in the fridge was my saving grace. Seb placed the technician’s hand on the table before shuffling through the terminal’s systems. His anxiety spiked as a flashing, red timer counted down, showing only eight minutes left until atmospheric entry.

He pulled up the floor plan of the ship, slamming his fist onto the top of the desk when he realized his only way forward was through the door locked behind fire and ash. When the fire suppression systems didn’t function, Seb pulled up the security feed for that area. On the other side of the burning hallway was a sealed door leading to a giant hole blown out to open space. The area, according to the floor plans, was the sleeping quarters for the majority of the crew. His entire passage was cut off.

“Come on, think, dammit!” Seb shouted, slumping into a nearby chair. “There’s got to be a way through.” Feverishly tapping his foot, Seb spun in the chair, trying to come up with any solution. When he had it, he slapped himself on the forehead for forgetting all of his years spent at university. Quickly tapping on the top of the module’s surface, Seb pulled up the ship’s engineering plans and overlaid the hologram on top of the ship’s floor plans.

Many of the ship’s access panels and maintenance tunnels coincided with ventilation due to the need to get access to core systems while reducing the duplication of space. However, those were kept to a minimum on prison barges because of the threat of escape. According to these plans, there was only one location large enough for Seb’s lean frame: the shower room’s air dryer vent.

Seb double-checked the path one more time to confirm it led deeper into the ship. Sure enough, there was an access hatch into the interior cafeteria, which was just a hallway turn to the escape pods. With a few taps on the terminal, Seb temporarily diverted power to the showers, opening the vents.

“One . . . two . . . third vent should get me there,” Seb muttered. With the schematics as memorized as he could, he did what he never thought he would do and voluntarily ventured back into his former cellblock. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, he felt the sense of weightlessness he expected. He kept a firm grip along the side railing, ensuring he didn’t feel a violent pull of air pressure anticipated from a hull breach. When nothing changed, he propelled himself forward, using the metal railing as a guide to the center of the block. Once he was above the showers, he rotated over the railing and pushed himself downward.

An electric tingle crawled over Seb’s body, causing him to physically shake. The disturbing silence of the block was evident with each slap of his hand hitting the rail as he descended farther below. The blocks themselves had never been so quiet, and his gaze into open space made him realize just how close he was to death. He flared his lips, turning his fear into focus, trying to concentrate on his goal. Stop it, dammit. You’re not out of this yet.

When he reached the floor, Seb propelled himself forward into the showers. With one hand on his ticket out and the other along the wall, he floated deeper into the room. Once he entered the drying area, he smiled, realizing there was no thrust of air. With nowhere else to store the hand, Seb slipped the cadaverous appendage into his jumpsuit. He bent down and pulled with as much strength as he could muster. The steel grate squealed under the stress before giving way, sending Seb spinning backward through the air. He bounced off the ceiling and wall before getting his equilibrium stable enough to push himself toward the vent opening.

Once inside, Seb used the metal tube like a guided slide, propelling himself through the metal shaft, using occasional light that shined through various openings as a guide. While he continued forward, the vent split into two directions, one that continued with the vent and the other with electrical wiring and piping that was familiar to a maintenance shaft. From the plans he memorized, Seb turned down the maintenance shaft and felt the immediate effects of gravity. He let out a shout as he fell to the ground, leaving him in a coughing fit.

After getting his breathing under control, Seb pushed himself up to his knees and crawled his way forward. A square of white light outlined the third hatch, a shift from the red of the emergency lights he passed along the way. With a hard kick, the thin-metal hatch flew off its hinges, landing in the open cafeteria. Seb pressed his head through, looking both ways before pulling himself in. The scattered remains of the day’s breakfast sprawled between the long tables and benches of the cafe.

Without wasting any more time, Seb pulled out the hand from inside his jumpsuit and sprinted out of the room. The echoed sounds of his footsteps left him with a feeling of despair that he was the last one on the ship. This was compounded when he turned the corner. All the pod bay doors he could see were closed, indicating they had already left.

“No, no, no!” Seb shouted, dropping the hand as he extended his stride. Nearly reaching the end of the hallway, he noticed a single set of doors remained open. Seb jumped into the pod, only to find an officer sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“Good thing you made it. I was just about to take—” The pilot’s statement stalled as the two men stared into each other’s wide eyes. Seb sprinted past the six wall-mounted chairs while the officer fumbled with his holster. Before the weapon was pointed at him, Seb kicked the blaster forward, sending a bolt into the pod’s central console. He grabbed at the man’s hand while the two struggled for control. The fight seemed endless until Seb delivered an elbow strike to the officer’s temple, dazing him long enough for Seb to pull the pistol away.

It wasn’t over for Seb, though. All of the pain, frustration, and fear of the day’s events came out at once. Seb slammed blow after blow into the officer’s face until it was a bloodied mess. With his foe’s body slumped forward in his harness, Seb looked down at his shaking hands before sitting back in the co-pilot’s chair. He looked out the craft’s front windows, the curvature of the blue planet they descended toward nearly taking up their entire view.

The sight brought clarity to the prisoner at how close they were to the planet’s atmosphere, snapping him out of his blood trance. He spun in his seat and attempted to prepare the craft for departure. The central console sparked and smoked thanks to the recent blaster shot. None of the electronic controls responded with Seb’s presses.

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Seb said, grabbing a side lever to switch to manual control. When it didn’t budge, he realized the rear doors were still open. Good thing the safety controls still work.

Jumping from his chair, he proceeded to the back wall, opening the hatch that stated in big, bold, red letters that this was the manual door latch. Seb pulled a lever down, slamming the doors closed in a release of pressurized gas.

When he looked up, he jumped back. Three pairs of eyes stared horrified at the blood-soaked inmate who closed their only hope of escape. They pounded on the door with tear-stricken faces, pleading to be let in. Their screams were faint, but it was reddened eyes and slack-jawed expressions that would haunt him forever.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning around and resuming his seat in the co-pilot’s chair. He buckled his harness and tightened his straps, trying to ignore the soft thuds beating against the rear door. He gripped his hand tightly around the mechanical release lever, closed his eyes, and pulled.