As they jogged through the dimly lit hallway, SD-22 hoped the survivor would wake up so at the very least they would have something to listen to besides the distant blare of sirens and their own thunderous footsteps. Alone was a new concept, since the cramped confines of Eclipse station made solitude nearly impossible. Despite how SD-22’s usual socialization was being sworn at by drunken miners they were dragging out of the brig, it was still vastly preferable to the eerie wails that echoed through Eclipse’s halls and the terrifying stretches of silence. It gave them an uncomfortable amount of time to wonder. SD-22’s files held no records of any disease or parasite with matching symptoms, and there was nothing in the cargo hold capable of inflicting the burns that covered the deranged attacker, not since flamethrowers were banned from the station after the annual Poker night of ‘80 anyway. Even more troubling was the possibility of of that thing wasn't the only one of its kind infesting the station, which SD-22 calculated at a 76.32% likelihood. If that was the case, how many survivors were even left for SD-22 to rescue? If it was a disease, should they even be rescued or would breaking the quarantine that risk infecting the planetside population? Was the captain alright?
SD-22 purged the train of thought from their system. Warrior not Worrier, they chastised themself, repeating the mantra drilled into them by the Captain as they ducked their head under an exposed oxygen pipe jutting from the ceiling. They had to stay focused on finding the medbay, which was easier said than done since their internal map seemed to be almost completely outdated. Eclipse station was nearly unrecognizable now, far less cramped and dinghy than they remembered. There were very few exposed wires or rusty bars of metal jutting through the station floor, and the presence of recycling bins and wastebaskets in the halls was a shock. Just how long had it been since my last activation?
SD-22 turned a corner and skidded to a stop. Down the hall and crouched away from them were two women in the station’s orange vacuum-suits huddled over a corpse like hyenas over a kill, neither of which registered heartbeats. Things. SD-22 froze, praying to what little they knew about the human god that the two hadn't noticed, which admittedly was a pretty big ask for a five hundred pound robot, and took a tentative step backwards.
CLANK
SD-22 winced and the two things whipped around. A moment of shocked silence passed as they stared each other down before the thing on the right let out a cruel laugh. “Just when I thought we were going to have to hunt again, the robot brought us a fresh meal. These are marvelous times, Ballari.” She was broad shouldered and deathly pale with bleached white hair that clashed with the pair of blood red eyes shining like beacons in the depths of her gaunt face. She wiped the blood dripping down her chin away with the sleeve of her suit and the other, a dark skinned woman with intricately woven hair who SD-22 assumed was Ballari, chuckled.
“Bring it here please,” she commanded and for a moment, SD-22 thought that they had misheard her. Had she just tried to give them an order? “C’mon now, we’re waiting...” she said expectantly. Not only could these two talk, they were confident SD-22 would comply. Worrisome. They didn’t have their helmets on them while wearing a Vacuum suit as well, a Class Four offence: OSHA violation, which SD-22 filed next to their others, Class One: Murder (probable) and Class Two: Cannibalism. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to enforce station policy. The survivor was bleeding to death in their arms and SD-22 couldn’t risk a confrontation that would jeopardize her safety. Activating their speakers, SD-22 launched into a tried and true method for delaying organics.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“-Error- Software update in progress. Thank you for your patience, your EDURON security droid will be with you in a moment.”
Ballari blinked. “An update? Now?” SD-22 blared soft jazz in response as a fake update bar inched its way across their face. She rolled her eyes and shook he head, the multicolored beads and ribbons woven through her hair sparkling under the emergency lights. “Marvelous times indeed, Alicja.”
“Fine fine, I’ll get it,” the “Alicja” thing said with a rueful smile as she stood and walked towards them, fang-toothed grin dripping with malice. SD-22 had bought themselves time with their little gambit, but not much. Fighting was out of the question and judging by how fast the injured one in the cargo hold was, SD-22 doubted they could successfully flee from them either. As the pale thing reached the halfway point between them and Ballari twisted the corpse's head from it’s shoulders like a cork, lapping up the blood dripping from it greedily, SD-22 frantically scanned the hallway for something they could use. Their primary sensor package obstinately refused to focus on anything besides the HR mandated potted plants lining the walls, but the undamaged medical scanner spotted a weak point in the wall hidden behind a motivational poster of a cat hanging from a perilous position to their right. While unsafe, it wasn’t damaged enough to risk a catastrophic hull breach. Yet. Despite the obvious safety hazard, seeing the compromised section warmed SD-22’s digital heart. Despite its shiny new paint job, Eclipse station was still the rickety home in the sky they remembered.
SD-22 cut the power from its speakers and screen, rerouting a substantial portion of their reserve batteries to the electromagnets in their feet, locking them to the floor. Originally installed to let them move on the station’s exterior, they were powerful but taxing on SD-22’s battery life. “I think it just crashed,” Alicja laughed over her shoulder as she reached for the unconscious survivor.
“No,” SD-22 replied, their free hand folding into their forearm. “I didn’t.” Alicja’s blood-red eyes widened and SD-22 swung into motion, punching their fist through the poster and annihilating the struggling cat’s face as it punctured through the fragile bubble of steel protecting the station from the cold vacuum of space. Airlocks on both sides of the corridor slammed shut as the air escaping into the void screamed through the breach, the suction ripping posters from the wall and toppling Alicja. She rolled across the hallway, screaming as the rapid decompression pinned her over the hole. She grunted with effort, veins popping from her neck as she barely resisted being pulled through.
“Ballari!” she cried, gritting her fangs as she struggled against the vacuum. “It’s rogue!” Rogue? SD-22 hadn’t heard anything more preposterous. They were behaving exactly as an EDURON droid should. With a snarl, Ballari anchored herself by stabbing her hand into the floor. She pulled herself forwards, digging her claws into the vinyl for each handhold. “You little-”
SD-22 cut her off. “Careful. You have approximately one hundred and twenty seconds until the artificial atmosphere in this section is depleted, and your friend appears to be trapped.”
“I’m going to rip you apart, machine, and I’m going to enjoy it” she hissed, staring murderously at them as she inched her way towards Alicja. SD-22 turned to leave, unclamping their feet from the floor with each ponderous step. As they reached the airlock and punched in the override code, SD-22 looked over their shoulder and shook their boxy head.
“You should have worn a helmet.”