“Watch your footing, newbie.” Bryce had stumbled over the fried skeleton of a Lieutenant, to Francis’s disdain. The catwalk echoed as their steel-toed boots clogged towards the end of the hallway, giving the air vibrations that it lacked. The metal walls lacked the distinct hum. This station was dead quiet.
“Sorry, sir.” Bryce muttered.
“It’s not me you have to apologize to, it’s that thing.” Francis’s scanner flared up, beeping rapidly on his belt.
“What… what is it?” Bryce looked worriedly over Francis’s shoulder, watching the dot move closer to their position. It was certainly bigger than them, showing a large hulking figure on the scanner’s monitor. If it wanted to, and no doubt it did, it could rip them in half.
“It’s some kind of foreign DNA they unthawed at the lab,” Francis whispered, “Doc said it grew the size of a dog when exposed to the station’s oxygen.”
Station 95 was one of the newer Confederacy Deep-Space program’s stations, but it held up through plenty of asteroid storms throughout the years. When pirates attacked, the crew could hold them off with minimal casualties. The place was built like a fortress, multiple sealing points on every hallway. It was state of the art, for it’s time, carrying a full hangar of fighting and transport ships.
“Guess they just don’t make them like they used to.” Bryce remarked, looking at a horribly burnt man hanging in an overhead vent. As they walked, they could hear the inhuman groan of the figure behind the airlock in front of them.
Before Bryce could yelp in terror, Francis hurriedly cupped his mouth. “Stay down, it’ll pass.” The alien inched by the doorframe, shaking the hallway with its weight. Francis loaded his rifle, prepared for the worst.
To Be Continued...
