Fight or Flight

Sigra was jolted awake by the familiar dull thud of blaster fire slamming into bulkheads, followed by the constant, all-encompassing blare of alarm klaxons. She sat up in her bunk, adrenaline cranking her heart up to eleven. She kicked her covers off, and jumped into her flight suit, shoving her feet into her boots, and haphazardly throwing her belt around her waist, fumbling at the buckle. She pulled her blaster pistol from its locking pegs on the wall, and secured it in its holster. She picked up her CommPod, then changed her mind, biting onto one end of the strap, yanking a hair tie off her wrist, and quickly pulling her hair back into a pony.

What the hell was going on?!

Hands and fingers shaking, she strapped the personal communicator around her wrist, punched in some commands, and waited. No answer from the Captain. What the hell? She tried another officer. Nothing. Come on! She punched in the contact for her section commander in engineering.

“Come on, Laz...”

After an agonising couple of seconds, the call connected. Laz’s voice came out of the device’s tiny yet powerful speaker.

“Sig?? Thank Christ you’re alive!!”

The other woman sounded as alarmed as Sigra felt.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“We’ve been boarded! No atmosphere in D section, and half of J section have been killed!”

“By who?!”

“I don’t know, Sekandian raiders maybe, I didn’t really see them, I just ran!”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m headed for the escape pods; I’m in Hydroponics.”

“Laz, Jesus Christ; the nearest pods to Hydroponics are half the ship away!”

“I know! I’ve just been trying to get away from any noise!”

“...so what’s the deal, is anyone even in command?!”

“You’re the first person I’ve spoken to since the alarm went off. I’ve tried the Captain, the XO, and the Adjutant, and nothing! They’re...they’re probably dead.”

“Yeah, I tried them too...”

Sigra’s mind raced. After the Captain and the XO, a number of the bridge crew would be next in line for command. But if the Captain, the XO, and the Adjutant had gone silent, had potentially been killed, then who was to say the rest of the bridge crew hadn’t suffered the same fate? Shit!

“So, what do we do? What’s the protocol?”

“Protocol?! We evacuate. I’ve gotta double-back and head to the pods. You should do the same.”

“Do you know where they are, the Sekandians or whoever?”

“I can’t say. Seems like they’re everywhere, that’s how I ended up here!”

“Yeah...”

“Hey Sig, just go. Get to a pod and get out of here!”

“If I reach a pod, then what do I do?!”

“You get in, strap up, and launch. They’re all programmed to head to the nearest UCS station.”

“Which is where?”

“Probably the last one we docked at...”

“The one from last week?!”

“I know, I know. Look, keep your head down, find a pod, and I’ll see you on the other side. Don’t wait; not for me, not for anyone. Just get out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Stay safe, Sig.”

The CommPod beeped, signalling the end of the call. Sigra swallowed, and tried to listen for any commotion over the internal hammering of her heartbeat.

Nothing.

Somehow, nothing was almost worse than something...

Shit, shit, shit! There was nothing else she could do. She slowly cracked the wheel lock on her cabin’s door, and inched it back into the room. She pressed an eye to the crack, and scanned what she could of the hallway outside. Nothing. She gently swung the door halfway open, and holding her breath, slipped out of the safety of her quarters.

Her head whipped back and forth, hungrily searching for signs of danger, feeling sweat beginning to line her suit. No one in sight. She pressed her back to the bulkhead next to her cabin, and shimmied her way down to Billing’s room. Softly, she knocked on the cold steel. No reply. She turned the wheel on her neighbour’s door, but it was locked. Scanning each direction down the hall, she quickly punched in his contact on her CommPod. No answer there, either. Maybe he'd gone to the mess hall, or the rec room. Damn!

Escape pods. Okay, okay, okay. Her cabin was on the outer bank of the engineering wing, and the nearest pods were a good kilometre away, with a myriad of different sections between here and there. Life Support Systems, Equipment Storage, the Med Bay, there were a number of functional areas of the Konrad between her and safety that could contain hostiles. Damn.

The not-so-distant echo of a blaster bolt followed by an unintelligible grunt broke her train of thought. Her head whipped in the direction it sounded like it came from, and her heart jumped into her throat. She froze. More blasts and more shouting followed, and Sigra found her feet unsticking. She ran in what she figured to be the opposite direction of the commotion.

The labyrinthine design of the ship did nothing to lessen her anxiety. Behind every corner she approached, lay all manner of imagined threats. She fought her body to breathe as she ran, to try to focus, to somehow calm herself even slightly. It was only after a few minutes of her holster slapping her thigh that she realised what the sensation on her leg was. She pulled the meagre weapon free and held it up at the ready as she closed in on a set of double doors marked “Life Support”.

Sigra came to a halt in front of the doors, checking back over her shoulder, consciously attempting to slow her breathing. No one there. Okay. Life Support. This was actually good; a bank of escape pods lay not too far from the other side of this section of the ship. She put her hand on the wheel lock of one of the doors, and then paused. Pressing an ear against the surface above the handle, she strained, trying to hear over her body’s internal panic. Nothing. She turned the wheel, and gingerly pushed it inwards.

The main lights of this section of the ship had been dimmed; a power-conserving feature of the alarm being triggered. Dull emergency lighting cast the space in an ominous shade of red. Rows upon rows of power banks and monitoring stations were a black and scarlet blur, slowly coming into focus as Sigra’s eyes adjusted. She raised the blaster up in front of her, and had half a mind to turn her CommPod’s lamp on. But a groan nixed that idea.

Who the hell was that?!

She waited.

There it was again.

Muffled, almost weak, but certainly, a groan. Male. Possibly old, or older than she was, at least. Coming from a few metres ahead of her. Damn. There was nothing else to do, no other way around it. She tightened her grip on the blaster, and slowly put one foot in front of the other.

As she progressed into the room, the groan grew louder, and, rounding the corner of a bank of super-capacitors, Sigra spotted a pair of UCS boots sticking out from behind the equipment. She slowly let out a deep breath, and relaxed her grip some. She called out, almost barely above a whisper.

“Who’s there?”

No reply, but a slightly louder groan. Scanning around for any other signs of movement, Sigra switched her CommPod's lamp on. Tracking around the corner, the brilliant LED illuminated Gunny, the Konrad’s Chief Engineering Officer. A burly man in his fifties, he lay unconscious on the deck, a welt on his forehead. Sigra holstered her weapon, and crouched down on the floor next to him. Softly, she shook his shoulder.

“Sir?”

He groaned louder this time.

“Sir, are you okay? Sir? It’s Sigra!”

After a couple of seconds of gentle prodding, his eyes fluttered, then opened.

“Sig?”

“Sir, are you okay?!”

“Pirates...we gotta go...”

“Sir, what happened?”

“Got jumped on my way out of the core, managed to make it here. I think they shot me...”

“Where?!”

Sigra gently pulled his Chief’s coat open, and there, on the stomach section of his duty shirt, fringed by a burn, was a small puncture hole.

“Shit! Hang on, I’ll find a med kit!”

Sigra frantically flashed her wrist around as she paced the aisle, until it shone bright and white on a first aid station mounted to a bulkhead. She ran to it, yanking the door open, stuffing a handful of gauze packs and a couple of med vials into a cargo pocket on her flight suit’s leg, and grabbing a few extras to use on the Chief. Returning to his side, she crouched down, and began to open his shirt.

“You’re gonna have to check the back too...”

She nodded at him, focused on getting through this moment. The last button popped, she pulled each side of the shirt front away from his torso. The puncture wound was small, but she was guessing the damage it had done was not. Popping the plastic cap off the med vial, she looked into the Chief’s eyes, and he nodded at her. She jabbed the vial into a patch of uninjured flesh close to the blaster hole, then tore open the gauze pack, pressed it down softly over the wound. The Chief still groaned despite the painkiller and the care she was taking.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Sorry! We uh...we should do the back now...”

“Yeah...”

Sigra held a hand out, and the Chief gave his.

“Ready?”

The Chief nodded. Sigra counted him down.

“Three, two, one!”

Together they hauled him into an upright position. He breathed through the effort that the movement required. She looked him in the eyes. He nodded, and shrugged his coat off. Sigra lifted his open shirt, located the exit wound, and placed another gauze pack on it.

“Okay.”

The Chief buttoned it his shirt back up, and Sigra helped him put his coat back on.

“Thank you.”

Sigra let out a breath, and stood up.

“I’m a woman...”

“What?”

“I’m not a son of a bitch, I’m...just a bitch, I guess?”

The Chief chuckled.

“You’re a wonderful bitch.”

“Thank you, sir. How do you feel...you good to move?”

“Good as I can be. Let’s go.”

Sigra gently struggled the Chief upright, one of her shoulders buried in one of his armpits, his arm draped over her. He swayed momentarily, before raising his free hand in a sign saying, ‘I’m good.’ She nodded, and guided them out of the other end of Life Support.

Sigra strained under the weight of the Chief as they wound their way through corridor after corridor, but they made steady progress. More shots rang out in the distance, but they only served to steel her in pushing further and further. The pair rounded a corner, and the ship suddenly got brighter.

This section of the Konrad consisted of two connecting T junctions, the corridor that linked them lined with wide viewports. Through each window poured light from the nearest star reflecting off some teal, unnamed planet below them. The light, like some divine marker, highlighted the most beautiful thing Sigra could hope to see right now – two banks of escape pods.

Oh, thank goodness!

She checked on the Chief, who gave her a thumbs up and a reassuring nod. As they limped toward the nearest pod, footfalls rang out at the opposite end of the corridor. Damn! Sigra lowered the Chief and herself to the ground, and waited, blaster raised. The footsteps grew louder. Her finger tightened against the trigger.

Laz darted around a corner of the corridor and almost fell over at the sight of the two of them, and at the barrel of the blaster pointed directly at her.

“SIG?!”

Sigra let out a long-held breath.

“Laz!”

“Chief!! You need help?!”

Laz began to jog toward them, but the Chief waved her off.

“Get to a pod, Sig's got me!”

“You sure?”

Sigra answered this time.

“Yeah, I got this!”

Laz hesitated a second.

“Okay. See you out there!”

Laz jumped into a pod, and its hatch slid shut behind her. Sigra heaved the Chief up from the deck.

“Time to go, sir.”

She guided them to the nearest pod. As she lowered the Chief into one of the cramped craft’s seats and buckled him in, Laz’s pod burst free from the Konrad, and streaked past their pod’s viewport. Sigra smiled, felt a small wave of relief wash over her. Laz made it. Thanks be for that. She watched as the engines of Laz's pod kicked in, as it streaked away from them. Watched as another pod began to follow it.

Someone else got out!

Wait.

That wasn’t another pod.

No. No, no, no!!

The other craft initially looked to be the same size as an escape pod, however its movements were too swift, too precise. Neon bright blaster beams flashed, and Laz’s pod erupted in a brief, muted ball of flame, snuffed out before it even began by the cold vacuum of space.

No. They had fighters. She looked at the Chief, his face grim.

“No...”

“Sig...”

“We can’t...”

“Sigra...”

“We can’t escape!”

“Commander!”

Instinctual response to her formal rank snapped her out of her fright.

“Yes, sir?”

“There’s another way.”

“What? How?!”

The Chief pointed off to one side of the escape pod’s viewport. Sigra craned her neck, following the direction he was gesturing in. On the outside of the ship, at the end of the row of escape pods, lay a massive pair of tiger-striped blast doors.

“The Rover.”

“Sir?”

“But you have to go now; they’ll be headed this way.”

“What do you mean I have to go??”

He opened his coat, revealing the gauze pack, sodden dark crimson.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no!

“Sir?!”

“It’s okay, I made it this far.”

“But sir, I...the shuttle...I can’t...”

“It’s easy, I’ll walk you through it.”

“How?”

He lifted up his wrist, shaking his CommPod at her.

“Go, Sig. Now.”

“Sir, I...”

He nodded at her, and gently pushed her back towards the corridor.

“Go, Sigra.”

She slowly stepped backwards out of the pod, almost on autopilot. The Chief punched some buttons on a nearby control panel, and the pod’s door slid shut. Without knowing why she did it, Sigra reached out toward the pod. She felt the onset of full-body sobs.

Everything was going to hell, and now the Chief too?? This was all too much, too much chaos, too much fear, too much death, too much anxiety. But before she could settle deeper into a melancholy, slowly approaching boot steps roused her fight or flight response, sending her away from the escape pods and down the Konrad’s winding halls toward the Cargo Bay.

Mercifully, Sigra didn’t have far to go. A few corridors of lefts and rights later, and she was outside the tall double sliding doors of the bay. They would be locked, normally accessed with a swipe card, but she knew a workaround.

Pulling an access panel off the bulkhead next to the door, she grasped a red manual release handle, and turned it 90 degrees. Air hissed, the doors cracked slightly, and Sigra closed the access panel again. She peeked through the crack for a couple of seconds, before sticking her fingers in, and putting her body weight into shoving one of them open along its track. After some slight movement, it freed up, and slowly slid open.

The bay was massive. Metal pallets of equipment containers lined one side, and on the other, facing the giant blast doors, sat the Rover. Sigra continued to scan around the bay. It looked empty. She listened. She could still make out distant footfalls, but they didn’t appear to be coming from the cargo bay. Nothing did.

Sigra stepped inside, continuing to scan, reaching back to slide the now smoothly moving door closed. As she pulled on it, it jammed. Before she could turn around to determine what was blocking it, she felt a hand on hers, heard a voice growl “stop!”.

No. She hadn’t come this far to die now. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think, and in one smooth motion, drew her blaster, spun on her heels, and fired a shot into her assailant.

A member of the medical staff stared at her in disbelief. His hand groped at the hole in his chest. The light left his eyes, and his body crumpled to the ground.

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no, NO!!!

Sigra felt a numbness pass through her, her mind going blank in shock. Had she just done that? Her vision blurred slightly, and for a second she felt like she’d observed the event from outside of her body. Footfalls grew closer outside, and she acted on impulse. She dragged the man’s body into the bay, closed the door, and locked it. She punched the Chief’s contact into her CommPod. He answered.

“You made it?”

“I...I killed a man, sir!”

She slumped to the deck and began to cry, the shock of the whole ordeal finally overwhelming her.

“Sigra?”

“I shot him...I was closing the doors...he grabbed me...I just shot him!”

“...did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

She fought sobs coming deep from her chest to breathe, to continue speaking.

“I killed him!”

“Was it a pirate?”

"...one of the medical staff.”

Sigra bawled. Too much, this was all too much. The Chief’s words grew dull, muted.

“Sigra?”

She didn’t answer, she just let the pain out in a long and beastly howl.

“Sigra! Listen to me! It’s done. He’s gone, and you’re alive. But you won’t be for much longer if you don’t get up. It’s horrible, I know, but you don’t have time to deal with it now. You have to get to the Rover!”

Sigra wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked at the shuttle on the other side of the bay. What was the point? She’d likely join Laz in the void the second the shuttle made it out of the bay. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare, just wanted this hell to end.

“AT ATTENTION, SIGRA!!”

Chief’s voice shouted at her through the CommPod, causing her to drop the blaster she’d been clutching. Her heartbeat spiked, and she instinctively snapped to listen to the Chief.

“Sir?”

“Stow it for now! You’re going to get out of here, you hear me?!”

“...yes sir.”

“Good. Now, the bay, it’s clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, get up, and do exactly as I say.”

“Yes sir.”

Sigra collected her blaster and pushed herself up from the deck.

“First stop, there should be a wide control panel to your left. On the right-hand side, look for the words ‘Emergency Vent Override’ over a glass panel. Smash the panel, and inside is a big red button, below the button is a dial. Turn the dial to ‘5’, then hit the button. That’ll give you five minutes to make it into the Rover and shut the shuttle door. You don’t make it in five minutes, you’re getting vented into space. And once those blast doors open, there’s every chance the fighters out there will notice. Let me know when you’re in the shuttle. Go.”

“Yes sir.”

Sigra lifted her blaster, and slammed the butt into the glass, breaking it. She picked some of the larger pieces out, and then followed the Chief’s orders to the letter. She jogged for the shuttle, giving one last glance to the dead medic. She felt sick.

She entered the shuttle, and pinged the Chief on her CommPod once more.

“I’m in the shuttle, sir...”

“Good stuff. Close the hatch, and fire it up.”

As Sigra closed the hatch, she could make out a dull thud coming from the doors leading outside of the cargo bay. She swallowed, and made her way to the pilot’s seat, harnessing herself in. The control panel was daunting, covered in gauges, dials, switches, and a number of LCD display screens of varying sizes.

“Chief, there’s a lot of buttons here...”

“It’ll be fine, Sig. You’ve had basic pilot training, right?”

“I have, but just the basics...”

“The basics will do; I’ll get you set up to get away. Power it up.”

The power button was easy enough to find. She pressed it, and the craft came to life, humming and vibrating, screens flickering on, coloured buttons blinking awake. Another thud echoed through the bay.

“Okay, powered up...and I uh...I think they know I’m in here!”

“That’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. Use the main screen, find the emergency nav function, set the coordinates I’m sending to your CommPod...”

A text message appeared on her CommPod’s screen, and she punched the numbers into the Rover’s nav system.

“Okay, done.”

“There should be a toggle switch on your right, labelled ‘manual’ and ‘auto’, do you see it?”

Sigra scanned the control panels. Why where there so many damned buttons for this thing?! Finally, she spotted it. Another thud.

“Yeah, I see it!”

“Good. Once the doors are open, take the engines up to quarter power, press the launch button, retract your gear, and fly it out of there in manual. When you get clear of the Konrad, you fly your arse off. Once you’re sure you’re safe, put it into auto and it should take you straight to a UCS station.”

“Okay, got it. Now what?”

“Now you wait.”

“Wait for what?!”

“Just wait...”

Sigra saw a flash come from behind the Rover, and heard the grinding shriek of one of the doors from the external corridor being blown inward. Muffled by the shuttle’s hull, she could make out foreign shouts and footfalls. She racked her brain. What could she do? She couldn’t determine how many people were out there, and she wasn’t about to leave the shuttle and try to take them on with just a blaster pistol. They’d likely search the craft; maybe if she was lucky, she could take a couple of them out before they got her.

Before she could finish the thought, yellow beacon lights surrounding the interior of the blast doors began to flash. A computerised voice filled the cargo bay.

“BLAST DOOR OVERIDE IN SIXTY SECONDS.”

More muffled shouts. The Chief’s voice coming through her CommPod made her jolt.

“Keep waiting...”

With a tremendous groan that shuddered through the shuttle, the blast doors cracked, and began to move. Thin whisps of the ship’s oxygen grew visible, the vacuum of space pulling them out of the growing crack in the doors in streams that grew thicker and faster. Unsecured pallets began to shake, coming to life, jumping for the freedom of space. And a half dozen armed bodies zipped past the Rover and off to a fate worse than death. Sigra swallowed.

“Okay, Sigra, you’re nearly free. Fire up to one quarter, and when you see my distraction, launch!”

Sigra notched the engine power up, feeling the shuttle begin to vibrate. She glanced at her CommPod.

“Your distraction?”

“You did good, Sigra, you did really good!”

“Wait, sir, what distraction?!”

Through the open blast doors, Sigra saw an escape pod fire downwards. A pair of fighters trailed off after it.

“Damn you, Chief...”

Sigra pressed the launch button, and the craft lifted off the deck. She raised the landing gear and pushed the control sticks forward.

The shuttle shot off into open space.

© Paul Martyn, 2023