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“Recovery of pods is 27% complete,” Cenz reported.
“Fast enough,” Brooks replied. “But I will only breathe easy once we’ve got them all.”
He brought up a map showing all the remaining pods and their statuses. Detailed information on the pods’s health as well as that of the people in them came alongside it. When there was no or minimal damage, they were capable of telling nearly everything important about themselves and their occupants, and nearly all of them in this area were undamaged.
They’d already recovered the handful that had been unable to communicate, save the empty one. Later they would recover it as well, in case it contained any bodies.
They had also focused on those containing the seriously injured. It was mostly radiation injuries, some of which were severe. A few hours or days, and most of those people would be dead, and he thanked the scientific minds of the centuries that had developed treatments for even the most acute of radiation poisoning.
The prognosis for most people, if still alive when brought in, was almost always positive. Their ability to prevent death was at heroic levels . . .
But it still depended on the person being alive when they came in. All too quickly parts of the body could suffer extreme damage, too much even for their ability to heal.
Looking at pod 49, he saw that it was slated for later recovery. Its occupants were no longer conscious, and two of the six were already dead.
The entire crew had received over 50 grays of radiation – far higher than was lethal.
The medical drone aboard had dosed them with sedatives and medications that gave them some comfort, but even if they were aboard the Craton there was little more that could be done to help them.
Had they tried, then in that time, others who could be saved would have to be sacrificed.
It was not something he liked, to pick and choose who would live and who would die.
But it was part of his duty, and so he did it.
“Another pod recovered,” Kai said. “Occupants are alive and conscious. Minor injuries, mostly contusions.”
“Get them treated and comfortable, and find out anything they know about the event that destroyed the Maria’s Cog.”
“Aye, Captain.”
He looked again at the vessel, which had drifted further apart since they had arrived. As soon as their zerodrive was charged enough they’d send a message off to command with their findings. The original distress call would get back to them soon, and they would send out cleaner vessels to capture all of the pieces they could, destroy what they could not. Even far from an inhabited system, one did not want to leave errant debris.
The thought of the hyper-velocity object that had caused this came to his mind and he frowned. For all they knew, another such object was coming at them now, launched thousands or even millions of years ago, that could kill them all.
He’d deployed their defensive drones to watch for such things, but if they saw one there was very little defense. Their lasers might be able to burn some of it away, but that was it.
“Captain,” Cutter said, approaching. “A word.”
“Go ahead,” he said, closing out the image of the Maria’s Cog.
“Damage to errant pod is confirmed to include leak of engine coolant,” Cutter said. “Air check system not configured to detect – but indirect evidence undeniable. Gas is heavier than oxygen, but system will interpret as oxygen due to lack of data.”
He showed the data to Brooks;
“Fisc,” he muttered.
“Leak is microscopic in nature, across interior surface of pipe walls. Difficult to fix – without proper tools impossible.”
“Ms. Brogan and Officer Pedraza will have to wear some of the emergency air masks until we can recover them,” he said. “Has it been ordered?”
“It was ordered immediately,” Cutter said. “Lily Brogan has not yet answered. We await positive reply.”
Commander Eboh turned. “Captain, we are receiving a new message from Lily Brogan.”
“Channel to Cutter and myself,” Brooks ordered.
The message came through, breaking up and full of static.
“Craton, this is Lily Brogan . . . I’ve gotten out the air masks, but uh . . . we don’t have any air cans. I don’t know why, maybe they needed refilling or something but . . .”
Her breathing was heavy. “We don’t have anything. They have filters, so I have mine on and I put one on Davyyd . . . But I think it’s making it harder for him to breathe. Please advise; are the mask filters going to help?”
The message ended, and Brooks felt his heart pounding in his chest. He did not know if the filter would help, and he looked to Cutter.
The creature had slumped slightly.
“Filters will not scrub out engine coolant,” he said softly. “At estimated leak levels, we have between two and four hours before concentrations in cabin become lethal.”
Other Terrestrial 
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