Just A Medic

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I guess they didn’t account for communication systems.

A week or so before our voyage was scheduled, management unveiled their solution: advanced headsets. State of the art microphones, surround-sound speakers in our helmets, updated translation software, the works. We were ecstatic; not only would this make our work easier, but it had the potential to cut mission times in half. That was something we could all get behind.

Capt. Folger implemented a mandate: we were not allowed to leave the ship without our audio setup. This caused a rift between some of the older astronauts, who felt the upgraded equipment wasn’t needed, but we all obliged.

There were four of us on board besides Folger: second-in-command Lt. Maxwell, pilot Collins, engineer Silrado, and finally, me. There were only three medical technicians on base, and with the other two on long-term missions to Mars, I was his only option.

Collins and Silrado were veteran astronauts; they could do their jobs in their sleep. A voyage to the moon was child’s play compared to things they had faced in the past.

Folger and Maxwell fought in wars I had only read about. They were strong, swarthy men with cold eyes and booming voices, both radiating wisdom and tact, genuinely proud to serve their planet.

I’d just recently graduated the program and had no real experience, so I understood their hesitation. Still, I had completed the necessary requirements to be a technician. I earned my title the same as they did.

When the ship took flight, I was scared out of my mind. I’d never been on a plane, much less a 2,250-ton shuttle. When I requested to be put in stasis, they laughed at me.

“Can’t handle the ride, princess?” Maxwell started, a condescending whine ringing through my headset.

Silrado joined the channel, “This is nothing, mate! We haven’t even made it out of orbit!”

They continued to joke until Collins activated the autopilot, allowing him to freely leave his post. Standing at six-feet-five-inches, Dramer Collins was not one to be messed with. He wasn’t as hardened by the years, nor was he as cocky from the experience.

Collins personally led me from the medic wing to the stasis chambers, since I’d never received an outline of the ship.

“Our first missions were rough on us, too,” he told me as I clambered into the sleeper pod, “This will be a breeze. See you on the moon, kid.”

And, with that, I was asleep.

Upon landing, the pod unlocked and I was awakened from my four-day slumber.

Collins had left me a detailed map of the ship so I could find my assigned suit. As I dressed, I could hear the crew through my headset, completely unaware of my presence. Silrado commented that they had functioned well without me, as he predicted.

“Well,” Maxwell chuckled, “She’s only a medic. It’s not like she was really doing much, anyway.”

Folger cleared his throat, prompting their silence. After a pause, Collins turned his microphone on.

“Welcome back, Weir. I trust that stasis was uneventful?”

“Correct,” I answered, “I can assume we’ve landed?”

“Exactly. Captain Folger and Engineer Silrado have touched on the Eastern port, I am with Lieutenant Maxwell outside the Western port. We need you to remain in the craft unless absolutely necessary, alright?”

It was then that all Hell broke loose.

Maxwell screamed, the fear in his voice chilling me to the bone.

“What is God’s name is going on?!” Folger shouted, “Get ahold of yourself, Maxwell!”

The screaming only became louder, turning into wails of agony. He began to cry for his mother, begging and pleading for his life. I could only listen as his muscles ripped and his bones snapped.

With trembling fingers, I fished out Collins’ map and attempted to navigate. Medic Bay was central-located, so I had a straight shot to the Western port. If I could make it through, I’d be able to retrieve them and return to my post. They needed help, and that was my one job.

A final, sickening crunch ended his tormented shrieks, and it was over. His body gurgled a few more times before his headset lost power.

“Collins? Collins, do you copy?” I asked, reaching for the vapor lock.

As my hand made contact, Collins’ lifeless body slammed against the window. His eyes were wide with fear, a viscous black fluid leaking from his nose and mouth. I could hear him struggling to breathe, wheezing as his breath fogged the glass.

“Don’t. Open. This. Door.” he choked out.

“You’re hurt, Collins, I need to access—“

“NO!” he screamed.

His face became distorted, twisting into an uncanny resemblance, “I’m. Infected. LEAVE!”

He grasped his weapon, placing the barrel into his mouth.

I gasped as Silrado covered my eyes. Both him and Folger forcibly pulled me away as the shot blasted through our headphones.

“We eradicated their species eons ago,” Folger murmured, taking a swig from his flask, “We used to carry specific weaponry for these… things, but as time went on, we didn’t deem it necessary.”

Silrado had been quiet since the initial attack, staring into nothingness as time passed on.

“They feed on our fuel supplies, so there’s no way for us to get home. We can’t reach Base, we have no pilot… It looks like we’re really screwed here.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Silrado whispered, his eyes meeting mine.

Folger looked in my direction, somewhat hopeful for my reply.

I sipped from the flask, sighing through my nose, “How would I know? I’m just a medic.”