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---

“Time is short,” Brooks said quickly.  “We’ve got two hours to get help to Lily Brogan and Davyyd Pedraza.  Perhaps they have longer, but we can’t plan on that without knowing.  Give me options.”

Cutter and was present in person, while Ham Sulp, Cenz, Dr. Y, Lt. Commander Pirra, and Rachel Zhu of drone control were all viewing remotely.  Kai was still monitoring the channel of the pod, though also listening in.

“Response Team One is prepared to do a high-G launch to reach the pod, Captain, if you order it” Pirra said.  She sounded breathy, her voice altered by the spacesuit she was already wearing.

“Not enough time,” Cutter said quickly.  “Even if launched now, not enough time to reach target.”

“We can do some pretty hard launches,” Pirra noted quickly.

“G-forces extreme,” Cutter replied.  “But possible.  Other problems remain – such as fact that pod is on opposite side of debris field.”

“Shit,” Sulp muttered.  “That cloud is going to be a bitch to get anything through.”

Brooks knew that they were already in a hard burn going between some of the difficult pods nearby – and that she was already cutting it close.

“I’m nixing that, but thank you Commander,” he said to Pirra.  “You have your own job to do.”

“Aye, sir,” Pirra replied.

“I need other options,” Brooks continued.  “What have we got?”

Rachel Zhu spoke up.  “We have rescue drones that can get there in time, if we launch them through.  They’re small and fast – they have a chance.”

“I know the models you speak of.  We’re going to need to modify them,” Cenz said.  “Normal rescue drones can interface with a pod, but this pod cannot interface externally – the drone will need the ability to secure the pod and extract the people inside safely.  Or the ability to cleanse the air within.”

“That’s not standard kit on them, no.  We can get it out there and it could start slowing down the pod, at least,” Zhu said.

“I feel this is unwise,” Cenz replied.  “The pod already had heat damage to its outer hull and the uneven force of attaching to a single spot to slow it might very well crack the hull open.”

“We must modify pod to enhance capabilities,” Cutter clicked out.

“I concur,” Cenz said.  “We can take a rescue drone and modify the payload.  Do you believe it is possible, Zhu?”

“We’d need to fabricate some custom parts,” she said.  “But we can do it.  The question is making them in time.”

“I’ve already started looking into it,” Sulp said matter-of-factly.  “Started a little bit ago.  It’s only groundwork, some generic parts, but I think we can have this baby ready for launch in twenty minutes.”

“If everyone is in agreement,” Brooks said.  “Then start immediately.  Next we just have to figure out how we’re launching it; around the debris or through.  Obviously the latter will be safest.  But do we have time?”

“To be frank – I do not think so,” Cenz said.  “Running the preliminary calculations, we will simply waste too much delta-v moving around the cloud to make our window.”

“I concur,” Y said.  “That will take too long to make our short-term window.”

“Recommend we attempt both,” Cutter said.  “Modify two drones.  If one going around may not make it in time, send first through in hopes that it makes it.  Send second around to guarantee arrival.  If first does not survive – still chance second could save crew members if gas leak estimates were too high.”

“Do it,” Brooks said.  “I want both drones launched as soon as possible.  Use any resources you have to.”

---

< Ep 9 Part 16 | Ep 9 Part 18 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The triage room was already crowded as Y observed it.  Over two dozen of the rescued were in here, many simply needing to be checked, others in need of serious medical attention.

From his frame of reference, they were not moving.  Though his metal body was walking through the room, and he was fully aware of its path and actions, that was not all he was aware of.

Every camera in the room were more eyes for him; he saw through every scanner, it was as if he held every diagnostic tool.  Data poured into him, and he parsed it nearly instantly, the operations occurring so quickly that it was difficult to even apply a number to them.

And through it all, he was also in each Response Team Shuttle.

The data from his four drones was far lesser, and there was a slight bit of lag in data that required him to wait for each update, but that was fine.  It was simple to parse.

All twenty seven people in this room would live without much difficulty, he thought.  Only two were serious cases, and he focused them first.

His stream of thought came through to Dr. Zyzus’s feed.

“This man has severe radiation poisoning.  I believe his exposure was at least four Grays.  Begin the Anti-Radiation Reactive Nano-Drone treatment immediately,” he wrote.  He dispatched a drone with the ARRND treatment.  It was unfortunate he did not have the man’s entire medical history, but he had access to some of the older file’s from the man’s service medical record, and tailored the treatment to his particular DNA.

The next man was not irradiated, but was heavily burned over much of one arm.

“Place into medical capsule two and begin a treatment mist to clean his exposed tissue.  Follow with debriding nanos and a further wash to remove them, then begin replacing the skin,” he ordered.

“Get this man an emesis container,” he noted, catching the look on another man who was about to vomit.

It was not exactly speaking in real time, more of a recording that he sent.  Barely a moment had passed, no one had moved appreciably.

He continued on.  Ten needed only treatments for shock and could be moved from triage.  Seven others had minor injuries that could be treated by nurses.  Of the last eight, six needed their own anti-radiation treatments and two needed bleeding injuries sealed.

All very simple.  But he had more patients coming; already twelve more were being unloaded from the drones and six more were outside of the ship, merely waiting their chance to unload the people aboard.

He began to prepare another three triage rooms and allocated the appropriate staff, just to be safe.

---

Lily could recall the time she visited Earth.

She’d been just a girl, her parents having acquired three of the highly sought-after tickets to visit the homeworld.

At the time it had been more annoying than anything to her, disrupting her whole life for a week of travel from her home station of Ran 5-5 to Earth orbit.

Hours on the cramped space elevator, then the shock of experiencing a planetary atmosphere for the first time.

The open skies, the smells of the ocean had been overwhelming and she had hated them.

She’d gotten sick to her stomach and rested for most of the next day, staying inside and refusing to go out for several more after that.

But on the third night her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d stepped outside, looking into the dark blue sky.

The twinkling of the stars made them look different than they did from space.  The distortions of the atmosphere on their light was novel to her.

And she’d hated that, too, at first.  While she had eventually loosened up and found herself enjoying her time on Earth, she hadn’t paid much attention to those twinkling stars again.

Now, she found herself wishing she’d spent more time at night watching them.

The stars outside the window seemed to twinkle like that occasionally, in the corners of her vision.  She wasn’t sure if it was just tiredness or perhaps a result of the medications.

She really should have covered the portal back up, but she had used some of the tools on the shuttle to check if any air was escaping.  The pressure in the pod was, if anything, a little higher than she expected.

“Ms. Brogan?”

It was Kai again.  She didn’t know how long it had been since the last time a message had come in, she’d lost track of time.

Lily knew she should pick up the call, but she found herself spacing out again, staring out into the stars.

She chided herself; even if she was tired and hurt, this was a survival situation.  She couldn’t afford that kind of laziness.

“I’m here,” she said.  “Do you have any news coming?”

“We’re working as fast as we can to help you, Lily.  It may take some more time, but we’re working quickly.  Can I get you to check something else for me?”

“Sure,” Lily said, then felt chagrined.  ‘Sure’, she’d said.  Like it was some casual conversation, not a talk with a Response commander trying to save her life!

“How is Officer Pedraza doing?” Kai asked.

“I just checked him . . .” Lily said, her sentence drifting off.  When had she done that?  She had to bring up her system, it had clocked the check-in.  It was almost twenty minutes ago.

She went back over.

Davyyd was still unconscious, his breathing still rapid.

“He’s okay,” she said, feeling immense guilt.  “But he’s breathing really quickly.  He stops sometimes, but it starts back up again not long after.”

There was more than six-second pause before Kai replied.  “I copy,” she came back.  Her voice betrayed nothing, but Lily had a bad feeling.

“I can forward you the medical drone’s data,” Lily said.  “I mean, I think I can do that.”

“Yes, please do.  As well as its scans of you.”

Lily found her fingers fumbling, feeling oddly numb.

She stopped, noticing that her under her clear gloves her fingernails appeared blueish.

It was just the lighting in here, she told herself.  The lights in these pods were a very crisp white.

She finished sending the data, remembering at the last minute to send multiple copies to help fill in gaps due to data loss.

“We’re receiving now,” Kai told her.  “I need to ask you one more thing, Ms. Brogan.”

“Go ahead,” Lily said.  Then, on a spur of the moment she added; “And just call me Lily.”

“Okay, Lily,” Kai replied.  “Can you open the air circulation panel and read me what it says the readings are?”

“Oh.  That’s easy,” Lily replied, moving to the instrumentation panel.  The air quality panel still showed all green, the air in here was fine.  No excessive carbon dioxide, the pressure was still adequate for breathing . . .

“Air quality is reading as normal  . . . pressure is up slightly . . .”  She read off the numbers.  “Humidity is getting kind of high.  That’s odd, I checked it earlier because I thought it seemed high but it wasn’t high then.”

“What about oxygen purity?”

“It says it’s fine.”

“I need you to bring it up in your HUD and check the specific measurement,” Kai asked, her voice firm and slightly insistent.

“Okay . . .”  She brought it up, pausing a moment before answering.  “It says that the air is 101.2% pure.”

That was a weird result.  It should not able to read higher than one hundred percent here.  Unless it just meant there was too much O2?

Kai didn’t have any reaction to that, as far as she could tell.  “Now please do the same with air density reading.”

“Air density is . . . wow, it’s like nine percent over normal.  That’s really weird, do we have too much oxygen or something?”

That would explain why she felt a little lightheaded.  Maybe the Drone had even turned up the oxygen to help Davyyd?

“Thank you,” Kai said.  Then, she added; “Lily, I’ll speak to you again shortly.”

“Okay,” Lily said, her stomach squirming.

---

< Ep 9 Part 14 | Ep 9 Part 16 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

It felt stuffy, Lily thought.

It didn’t really make sense; the air recirculators were functioning, but some time ago she noticed she was sweating.

“What’s the temperature in the pod?” she asked again.

The readout appeared in her HUD; 25.8 celsius.  It was warmer than it should be.

“What is relative humidity?”

It only showed 30%.

Letting out a frustrated growl, she walked across the pod to peer in at Davyyd.

He was still breathing, his chest moving in an alarmingly fast and shallow way.

She knew that was not good; it could be from pain or a sign that he was dying.  She was not sure.

The medical drone was charging, but she went over and connected to it.

“Why is he breathing hard?” she asked it softly.

“Cheyne-Stokes breathing,” it replied.  She’d never even heard of that, and as soon as she saw the definition she regretted it.

“An abnormal breathing pattern of progressive faster and shallow breathing followed by an apnea.

“Frequently associated with heart failure, brain damage, or inhalation of certain toxic chemicals.  Noted as occurring shortly before natural death in some individuals.”

Her head swam and she stepped back.

Davyyd was dying and she couldn’t do anyting about it.

A message came in and she jumped.

“Ms. Brogan,” it began.  She recognized the clipped translated voice of a Bicet immediately.  “Require that you check certain aspects of pod health.  Instructions have been sent along with message – follow instructions and report results immediately.”

She saw the appended file.  It was a simple text file – and there were ten copies.  She wasn’t sure why until she attempted to open the first one and got a corrupt data error.

Six of the ten had the issue, and she realized that the data streams must be dropping packets.  It was a common issue for drones, and she kicked herself for not realizing it earlier.

Playing back the message, she noted that the audio had a static to them that suggested the dropped data.

It made sense why they were having her check, then.  If her radio went out, they’d have a hell of a time rescuing her.

She sent back a confirmation.

“I’ll check right away,” she said.  “Please come help soon – we’re not doing great.  Davyyd, he . . .”

She looked to the man, wondering how aware he might be.  She had best not say too much.

“. . . he’s in a lot of pain.  Please.  Come soon.”

Sending it off, she looked at the text file.

Getting the pod’s toolkit, she found the panel indicated and opened it.  There were several brackets and pipes she had to adjust to reach through.

It was clearly not well thought-out for this sort of servicing she thought as she skinned her knuckles trying to reach in for the releases.

This was drone work, she mused in annoyance.  Ironic.

As she took out more and more, she noticed a strange white build-up on some of the pipes.  It had no odor, but it was not a kind of build-up she’d seen before.

Getting the part cleared, she popped loose the panel, pulling it back – and gasped in terror.

She could see space.

There was no rush of escaping air, and she realized that it was not just an open port to space, but an optical panel; there to allow workmen to see parts beyond without having to actually expose the inside of the cabin to the vacuum.

Stepping closer, she peered out.

The stars beyond were white dots, solid and unchanging without a planetary atmosphere to make them twinkle.

There should have been outer hull between this panel and space.  She should not be seeing these stars.

Whatever damage had distorted the thruster port must have also stripped off at least part of the outer hull . . .

Another message came in.

“Your plight is known to us, Ms. Brogan.  I promise – we are seeking the best option to aid you.  Please hang on.  Your pod is rapidly moving away – if your search into cabin condition finds damage to outer hull, we recommend immediate termination of engines.  This will aid recovery.  Cutter out.”

Staring out into the stars for just a moment longer, she then hurried towards the main control panel.

The system was ready to kill the engines.  Once she did it, though, she would no longer be able to restart them.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button to kill them.

---

< Ep 9 Part 13 | Ep 9 Part 15 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“. . . I can emergency stop the engines, but then they can’t start up again.  Please advise!”

The message from Lily Brogan ended for the third time, and Ham Sulp’s face was grim as he looked at Cutter and Kai.  Y had joined them remotely, observing even as he tended to the first rescuees brought in.

“Definitely sounds like there’s transmission problems,” Sulp said.  “I don’t like it.”

“I agree,” Kai replied.  “I can tell a damaged radio when I hear one, though I cannot tell you what the problem is.”

“I concur, there is alteration of the signal that is far beyond the bounds I’d expect from basic damage,” Y commented.

“What could have done it?” Kai asked.  “Debris?”

“Most likely incidental heat of fusion reactor plasma release,” Cutter said  “Photon radiation damage alone, at such intensities, more than enough.  Location is consistent with pod escaping as confinement field deteriorated and escaped vessel.”

“Honestly lucky that the whole pod didn’t just get ‘vaporated,” Sulp said starkly.

“Time is of essence,” Cutter said.  “I suspect damage to port side of pod is severe.  Structural integrity is likely intact, but micro-leaks cannot be ruled out.”

“Even if it’s losing air, we have a good amount of time,” Kai said.  “Those pods have enough air to last for weeks.”

“It is not oxygen I am concerned about,” Cutter replied gravely.  He turned to the computer screen.  “Show schematic.”

The image of the pod came up, highlighting the potentially damaged side. 

“Location of radio on pod design is also near engine coolant lines,” Cutter said.  “Damage to that side of pod could have distorted thruster shape – causing skew.  System unaware – thinks it is sending the pod to the correct angle but cannot see that it is off because of disabled sensors.  Also reason it cannot communicate with us.  Blinded.”

Kai took that all in.  “Are you worried of thruster overheat?”

“Has not happened already, therefore of low concern.  Am worried of leak – into cabin.”

Kai took a deep breath.

Engine coolant was a dangerous, dangerous compound – and difficult to detect.

“If this is the case,” Y said, “then Ms. Brogan and Officer Pedraza are in serious danger.  Engine coolant has severe neurological effects.”

“It is known defect in pod design to have coolant lines positioned so,” Cutter hissed, sounding angrier than she’d ever known him to sound.  “Should not have been placed so close to interior air lines.  Should not have remained in service once flaw was discovered.  But old ship!  Carrying old parts.”  He clicked his mandibles rapidly in something approaching disgust.  “We must find out.  We must be sure.”

“If that’s the danger then we have to cut the engine right away,” Sulp said.  “It’ll lessen the pressure on the cooling system – potentially slow or even stop a leak.  As well as keep it from getting any further from us.”

“An emergency cutoff ends all chances of using the engine to lower the pod’s velocity, though,” Kai said.  “At her current rate I don’t think we could get a rescue ship next to her and do an extraction.  It’s just going too fast.”

“Already a moot point,” Sulp grunted.  “They’re not designed to be steered as a security precaution.  Even if we can get the pod to turn, the internal gyros will sense it and try to steer it back onto what it thinks is the right course – cuz it’s clear it does think it’s travelling properly.  Convincing it otherwise is a crapshoot, and to override it she’d have to gut the navigational computer.  At that point she’d be flying totally blind.”

“Surely the pod is designed to accept commands to change course!” Cenz said.

“Nope,” Sulp replied.  “That pod’s old, like Cutter says, made after the conflict with the Aeena.  After what they did to our prisoners, we made our pods harder to control – remotely or even from inside.  Theory was that it’d be better to trust an AI to steer the pod safe since it can parse data better.  If she just tells it to alter course, it may well trigger the security protocols and go into silent mode for forty-eight hours.”

“That was a terrible idea when it was first implemented,” Kai said.  “I can’t believe any remained in service.”

“Yep,” Sulp said, shaking his head in disgust.  “Should never take the living element outta the equation.  Or else why are we even out here?  But th’ Union hadn’t faced anyone as cruel and genocidal as the Aeena before.  It led to some stupid decisions.  Hell, there was talk for awhile of giving pods a self-destruct so people could avoid being taken prisoner – they were that scared.”

“That issue is beyond current scope,” Cutter said.  “Other options may be possible to slow pod.  We must order engine cut.  We must prevent potentially lethal problem.  If all else is stable, the pod can support life for weeks.”

“All else is not stable, however,” Y said.  “Lily Brogan stated that she was injured and that Officer Pedraza was badly burned.  The medical drone with him will have little ability to stabilize his condition and we are unsure how serious her condition is.  I fear we may lose him at the very least if we do not recover the pod within the next few hours.”

“We need to get a team out there,” Kai said.

“I have run the math,” Y said.  “It will be a dangerously high-g maneuver even at this current time.  Cutting the engines will buy us some leeway as then it will at least no longer be acclerating away from us.”

“I’m going to assemble the team right away,” Kai said.

“I shall message Ms. Brogan,” Cutter said.  “Guide her through steps of checking coolant lines safely.”

“I’ve got an idea to look into,” Sulp said.  “Contact me once we know more.”

---

< Ep 9 Part 12 | Ep 9 Part 14 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“As you can see, Captain, the impactor debris was travelling orders of magnitude faster than your average piece of space rock,” Cenz said, bringing up the data.  “These pieces were annihilated on a level inconsistent with normal speeds.”

Brooks studied the data.  He was not as versed in such things as his science officer or engineer, but the data was still clear even to him.  He remained quiet a moment as he looked at it.

“How large was this object, then?” he finally asked.

“We have modeled different-sizes, but we expect it was approximately five meters in diameter,” Cenz replied.

“Could it have been a natural object accelerated intentionally as a novel form of attack?” Jaya asked.

“Unlikley,” Cutter replied.  “Why go through such trouble when it still appears as attack anyway?”

“I agree that seems unlikely,” Brooks said.  “But do you have an explanation for how the object got to be moving so fast?  If it was travelling somewhere between 200 and 1000 kilometers per second, that’s orders of magnitude higher than most natural objects.”

“Yes,” Cenz said.  “Knowing which reactors were hit and when, along with the ship’s orientation allows us to track the object’s original path.”

The ship appeared in the 3D model, with a red line extending out from it.  It zoomed out to show multiple stars.

“Accounting for galactic rotation, it suggests that the object originated along this path.  Along that path, we encounter the ternary system of Eris Setani.”

Jaya’s eyebrow arched.  “Ominous name.”

“For good reason,” Cenz continued.  “The system is a very messy collection of two neutron stars and a main sequence star they are actively feeding upon.  The instability of a three-body orbit means that they could easily be the culprit – gravitationally slinging objects out at unnatural speeds.

“What’s more, however, the spectographic traces of the remains of the object recovered from the whipple shield, while not particularly unusual, match the makeup of objects from the Eris Setani system.”

“This system is sixteen hundred lightyears out,” Jaya said.

“Yes.  But due to its unusual qualities, it is also a highly-studied location,” Cenz replied.

“My people dispatched long-distance probes to system one thousand years ago,” Cutter said.  “Though we ourselves never visited, we understand it very well.”

Brooks was quiet again for a long time, considering.

“So you are saying,” he said, breaking his silence, “that this object was sent out of the Eris Setani system something like half a million years ago, and the Maria’s Cog just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“As we have not yet ascertained its exact speed, its time of origin would have been between 480,000 and 2.4 million years ago – but in essence you are correct, sir,” Cenz said.

“It seems too impossible,” Brooks said.

“I believe I have one more piece of data that may help, sir,” Cenz said.  “As Cutter noted, his people have been placing probes in systems for study for millenia, which includes nearby systems.”

A chart appeared, showing small spikes – with a single sudden spike rising far beyond the others.

“In that time, their probes have detected seventeen spikes such as these, through their own systems or nearby systems.  They were actually dismissed as sensor ghosts, simple errors.  But the data matches exactly what we would expect from small objects travelling orders of magnitude faster than expected.”

Cenz paused, leaning back.  “In other words, this area of space is simply in the line of fire for Eris Setani.  For whatever reason, in ages long past it sent numerous pieces of incredibly fast debris flying this way.”

Brooks sat back.

“Frankly, I thought that discovering this was not an attack would make me feel better.  But to think that such objects are truly flying around is far more disturbing than even a hostile force.”

“Would they have had any chance to see this coming?” Jaya asked.

“No,” Cutter said.  “Drone screen was not sufficient for object of this speed.  Would require more and better drones in different pattern.  But if sufficient drones had been carried and deployed?  Yes.”

“No one could have expected this,” Brooks said.  “If it is indeed the case.  The crew of the Maria’s Cog did everything right, but this still happened.”

Jaya was leaning forward, still studying the data.  “What do you make of this, Urle?”

The Executive Commander was not present, working on another deck, but he had been remotely watching the conversation.

“It’s all possible, and I think pretty compelling.  The odds are astronomical – but that’s just why we haven’t seen it before, since even the worst odds don’t mean impossible.  We’re not seeing any enemy ships, no actual coilgun slug, Union intelligence has no information on enemy ships in our territory, especially not this deep.  I think their theory holds water.”

“I concur,” Brooks said.  “You two have done excellent work.  I’m going to forward this preliminary work to command, so if you have anything else you want to add to that, get it to me shortly.”

“Captain,” Cutter said.  “Time is of essence on different matter.  Request permission to focus more effort upon errant escape pod.”

“What is your reasoning?” Brooks asked.  “They are already a high priority given their situation, but is there more?”

“Pod’s radio signals display degradation that gives me concern,” Cutter said.  “I fear damage may be more significant than initially thought.  I must investigate further.”

Brooks nodded.  “Permission granted.  At this point, all we can do is make sure we get as many people in alive as we can.”

---

< Ep 9 Part 11 | Ep 9 Part 13 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Before them hovered the three-dimensional image of the Maria’s Cog and its millions of pieces of debris.

Once all escape pods from the doomed ship had been accounted for, Cenz had joined with Cutter.  The Bicet had been putting together the 3D model using the ship’s primary sensors as well as small scout probes.

Cenz had been shocked by Cutter’s use of them; he sent them on near suicide-runs deep into the debris fields.  Dozens had been lost, but the sacrifices had been worth it.

“Look at the pattern of the burning,” Cenz said, zooming in on a piece of the hull.

It had once been one of the outer plates of the Maria’s Cog, but now it was half-slag.

“Yes.  Melt patterning shows heat source came from inside vessel,” Cutter said.

“And the pulverization fraction indicates heavy boiling which suggests extreme temperatures,” Cenz continued.  “That is consistent with a fast release from the fusion reactor – the temperature would have dropped much lower if the release had not been traumatic.”

Cutter was silent a moment as he studied the image.  “I concur,” he said softly.  “Though, the release of a fusion reactor plasma ring in any circumstances . . . is nothing if not traumatic.”

Cenz turned to study his co-conspirator and friend more carefully.

Cutter did not seem to notice.  “Notice atomic marks – cross-hatching of burn pattern at this point.  It indicates that there was not one but two plasma releases striking at almost the same moment.  With certainty we can say both damaged reactors fully ruptured.”

“Two at the same time . . .  The log suggested within the same second, but this is even more precise than that.  Such marks would have been melted away by a second ring if it had come more than a fraction of a second later,” Cenz noted.

“Yes . . . two rings would also explain formation of primary ship pieces,” Cutter added.

“So we can state with certainty that the impactor hit both within a small fraction of a second.” Cenz concluded.

“Indeed.  A single object, travelling at extremely high velocities, high enough to penetrate whipple shield, outer hull, and continue deep into vessel.”

Cenz knew that Cutter had to be right.  But few things in space moved that fast . . . save for weapon projectiles.

“An enemy attack, then?” he asked.

“No,” Cutter said.  “Simple misfortune.”

Cenz paused, taking that idea in.  “Can you prove it, though?” he finally asked.  “I certainly hope you can, but the evidence suggests this was a surgical strike, not an accident.  Wouldn’t any such natural impactor have been detected by their drone network and scanners?  It would have had to be travelling at incredibly high speeds to not be caught in time and to have the energy for this kind of penetration.  And simply – what are the odds of a random object causing such a perfectly disastrous hit, Cutter?”

Cutter was silent a long moment.  “Odds are small.  But they do exist.”

“I must concur that it’s possible, but we need good evidence.”

“We have it,” Cutter said.  “Debris piece #21827 – observe.”

It was a piece of the whipple shield – a standard piece of stand-off armor that all ships carried.  Multi-layered, they were not designed or able to stop objects, not even small ones.  Instead, they broke them up, absorbing much of the energy so that the heavy armor underneath could better resist being holed by every tiny meteor.

Their layered nature also meant, though, that they could sometimes catch the smallest pieces of debris.

It was what Cenz knew he was seeing now.  The tiny black flecks had torn through the shielding, broken up on the hull and bounced off.  They had penetrated a few of the layers on the way back out, but not all the way.

“Do you believe these are pieces of the original impactor?” Cenz asked.

“Yes,” Cutter replied.

“How did you even find this?” Cenz asked in awe.  This was perhaps the most important find among the wreck that they could have located, and yet should also be one of the most difficult.

“At great cost,” Cutter said.  “Primary evidence was key.  Primary evidence would be at most dangerous area, epicenter of disaster.  Thus sacrifice of drones was necessary.”

“Incredible.  You sent the probes straight in, didn’t you?” Cenz asked.

“Yes.  But drone losses unimportant now.  Pieces of rock retain signs of recent shock and heat damage – showing that impact falls within time frame of Maria’s Cog destruction.  Spectographic analysis shows a common composition of nickel-iron,” Cutter said.  “Have not yet found point of origin of potential debris, however.”

“I may be able to help there,” Cenz said, bringing up a digital panel and flipping through screens.  “If this is their spectographic data . . .  I may be able to match it to a specific system we have studied.”

He looked to Cutter.  “How was the ship oriented?  If you have found this piece, I take it you know where the initial hit was?  This would narrow the field.”

Cutter brought back up the image of the Maria’s Cog, now reconstructed to its original state.  An area on her front cone was highlighted.

“Exact spot difficult.  But object struck frontal shield, penetrating it.  Vessel was oriented coreward.”

“Downtown,” Cenz noted.

Nearly all ships carried a frontal cone of heavy armor to block micro-meteors in their primary direction of travel.  The Craton‘s was enormous, due to her shape, but since most ships were long and narrow tubes, the cone could be smaller on them.

If a vessel was not actively travelling, it was common to point the shield towards the galactic core – or downtown, as many called it.

A cute little colloquialism, Cenz thought, and apt.  The core of the galaxy was incredibly crowded with stars, black holes, and other celestial objects, but the practice was largely just a habit rather than practical.

Taking the ship’s orientation into account, Cenz traced the route the impactor seemed to have taken through the ship – for it to have hit reactors eight and three meant he could plot a very specific course for it.

Following that line out, he peered into the cosmos of data.

“I have it,” he said.  “Cutter, you are correct.  I can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“We must speak with Captain,” Cutter said.

---

< Ep 9 Part 9 | Ep 9 Part 11 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“. . . so if there are any errors, please tell me exactly what they say.”

Lily felt her heart beat faster at the words.  

This was not within her scope of duties.  She was not dumb, she had gone through emergency drills, worked in other fields.

But she’d never had so much riding on those drills.  And she found her mind a blank.

All of that practice, however, did pay off.  Stepping to the status console, she had no idea what to look for at first, the controls seeming foreign to her.

Her hands moved, turning on the internal diagnostics.  An icon of a crying kitten appeared as it booted, and then a plethora of errors came up, filling her with dread.

Many of them had come up when she’d checked the primary system earlier, but now, on the diagnostic system they were longer, more detailed, and seemed even more terrifying.

Systems failures . . . the external auto-comms that let the pod’s computer talk to other ships was broken.  Outside sensors were out, so it was flying blind.  Something was wrong with thrusters, but due to the last two problems it could not say what.  There was also a problem with the coolant lines and they were on back-up.

That last one alarmed her, and she brought it up.  Were the engines going to overheat?

But no; it seemed the backups were sufficient.  It only meant that if something went wrong with the secondaries that they might overheat and shut-off.

It’s recommendation; inform rescuers to prioritize her rescue in case of further problems.

“I’m trying to do that!” she said out loud.

But the engines were a good point.  She was going the wrong way.  She should turn them off as soon as possible.

“Deactivate engines,” she ordered.

More errors turned up; engines non-responsive to orders.  Internal shut-down systems non-functional.

It came up with an option; execute emergency engine shut-off?

If she did that they wouldn’t be able to be turned back on.

Her eyes went to the 3D model nearby showing her location compared to the others.  She had cobbled it together, but she felt confident in her skills with figuring it out.

She contemplated if she could feed that data into the system to help it correct course, but rejected it quickly.  Navigation was extremely complex, and her map was nowhere close to precise enough for it to accept.

She wasn’t sure if she should turn off the engines, though.  She should tell the Craton responders and they could tell her if it was a good idea or not.  She just did not know enough to make such a call – she might need them for braking later.

Putting that aside, she prepared to respond when she remembered the medical issue.

“Release medical drone,” she ordered.  She was feeling better; her pain was lessening, which she imagined was from the nano-probes and painkillers at work.

The drone was set into the wall, releasing with a soft whir as its engines activated.  It floated towards her, scanning her up and down.

Then it turned and floated away.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

It did not answer, but moved around towards the boarding area.  It was separated from the main pod by short bulkheads, and she wondered if the drone was malfunctioning as well.

“There’s no one else in here to worry about,” she said.

The drone dipped down, and she leaned around the wall.

And saw Davyyd.

“Oh stars!” she cried, dropping to her knees.

The drone was scanning the man, but it was obvious he was in a bad way.  Burns came up over the back of his uniform, and around him was a pool of blood.

She dared peer over his shoulder, and what she saw made her almost gag.

“Is he irradiated?” she asked the drone.

“Negative.  No signs of radiation damage.  Third-degree burns over 22% of his body.  Shock and blood loss.”

“Can you stabilize him?” she asked, touching the man on a spot that didn’t seem to be hurt.  “Davyyd?  Can you hear me?”

He shifted, groaning in pain.

The drone injected him with something and he suddenly took a deep, pained breath.

“. . . Lily?” he said softly.

“Davyyd!  What happened?  I didn’t know you were even on board!  I’m so sorry, I couldn’t remember . . .”

“Short-term memory . . . affect of the drugs,” he said, his voice weak and hoarse.  “Gave you what we had.”

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, feeling tears slipping from her eyes.  “You needed them more than me!”

“You have a chance,” he said shortly.  His eyes opened, white against skin darkened by soot.  “Not enough to help me.”

The memory of him trying to head back into the ship, but knocked towards her by an explosion came to her.

She’d pulled him in.  But then she’d passed out and he’d been awake enough to give her the meds . . .

Dark, how had he had the strength to do it?

“What can you do for him?” she asked the drone.  “Stabilize him!”

“Working,” the drone said.  “Injury severity beyond scope of care.  Painkillers are only option but limited in quantity.  Give anyway?”

“Yes!” she ordered.

The drone gave him another injection, and Davyyd breathed out slowly in relief.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

“I don’t feel as bad,” he admitted.  “But save them . . . I’m dead anyway.”

“Not if I can get us help,” she said.  “Just hold on, okay?”

He nodded weakly, and she got up, running to the console.

“Craton, this is Lily Brogan in Pod 57 – the pod is flying blind and just keeps burning.  We’re going further away from you and I can’t get the engines to stop normally.  We’re running on secondary coolant lines.  I can emergency stop the engines, but then they can’t start up again.  Please advise!”

She took a deep breath, the guilt of not finding Davyyd sooner gnawing at her.  “I’ve got one other in the pod with me, Response Officer Davyyd Pedraza.  He’s badly burned and bleeding!  The medical drone says it can’t do anything for him except give him pain meds . . .  Please, we need help.  I know others need it, too, but we’re in a bad way here.”

She sent it, trying to sort out what she should do next.

Looking back towards Davyyd, she wondered if she should do anything more for him, but the medical drone was still hovering over him.  It was putting some kind of disinfectant sealant over his burns.

Lily knew she had no medical training.  She’d just be in the way.

There was nothing left to do but wait and hope for help to come.

---

< Ep 9 Part 8 | Ep 9 Part 10 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Kai Yong Fan sat down to be closer to the level of Cutter.  Beetle slugs, even when standing at their tallest, reached just barely a meter in height.

“What do you need, Chief Engineer?” she asked.

She kept the impatience out of her voice – she knew Cutter would never waste time.

“The errant pod is accelerating still.  Remote signal to slow it is not working – likely from damage.  Require skilled intercession to speak to survivors, see if damage can be repaired.  Must stop pod’s acceleration.”

It was practically a novel from the being, and Kai understood the significance immediately.  With the current velocity of the pod it’d be hard to catch as it was; if it contined to burn its engine it would only get harder.  A jump to go catch it was possible, but they could not possibly do that for another ten hours.

“I have some specialists who can handle this,” Kai told Cutter.  “I’ll get them on it right away.”

“Good.  Will continue to monitor communications.  Must learn extent of damage.”

Cutter dashed away, and Kai brought up her list of Response communicators.  Technically many of them were under Eboh’s command in Communications, but they were specialists for Response situations.

All of them were busy at the moment, in the midst of talking to others.  She looked to see if she could slip this pod in sooner, but it was impossible to predict with any accuracy how long they might be on their current calls.

She checked her own itinerary.

As head of Response, she had a lot to do behind the scenes; it was not as directly active a role as most expected, at her current level she was largely a bureaucrat.  She did not issue direct commands once the Response forces were deployed unless there was a major shift in tact.  The numerous Coordination Dispatchers handled direct comms, and their commander handled moment-by-moment decisions with only occasional input from her.

She had the time.  And she still was rated to do this.

“Pod number 57, this is the Craton.  Please respond with your status – of yourselves and your pod.”

There was three seconds of light lag to the pod – which meant they were already nearly a million kilometers away.

Six seconds later, the reply came.

“Craton, this is Lily Brogan,” the call came back.  “I’m not in great shape, but I’ve got some nano meds so I guess I’ll survive until pickup.  When will that be?  As for the pod, uh . . . I don’t see any signs of damage in here.  But I know I’m off-course.  What can I do to help you help me?”

“Ms. Brogan, we’re trying to get help to you as soon as possible.  I need you to activate the medical drone on your pod and have it scan you and any other passengers so we can understand your medical situation.  Tell it to connect to your radio to send us that data.  I also need you to use the pod’s internal check-up system on the console to tell me its status.  It doesn’t seem to be able to communicate with us, so if there are any errors, please tell me exactly what they say.”

She sent the message, and as she did so she saw Cutter scurrying over to her again.

“Abnormal signal structure in last message from Ms. Brogan,” the being said.  Their voices rarely carried intonation, but something about the beetle-slug seemed alarmed.

“I noticed some dropped packets – it’s not distance or interference from debris?”

“Ruled out.  It is an issue with pod modulator.”  Cutter considered.  “Physical damage to pod is a logical conclusion.”

“I have instructed her to tell us of any errors on the console,” Kai said.  “Since we cannot talk to the pod itself, she can at least tell us what it knows internally.”

Cutter leaned back onto his slug-like tail, lifting all of his sets of limbs off the deck and running them together in a wave.

He was clearly lost in thought.

“Something not right.  Learn all you can of pod status,” he asked.  “I must study signal further.  Structural aberrations. . . are disturbing.”

Lowering himself back onto his full set of legs, he scurried off.

Kai could only wait now, for Lily Brogan to follow the orders and report back.

In the meantime, she looked into the personnel logs, to learn everything she could about Lily Brogan.  She was a drone tech, but Kai hoped she had more training.  Whether she lived or not might depend on it.

---

< Ep 9 Part 7 | Ep 9 Part 9 >