The seat harness dug into my collarbones as I came to. At first, my vision was a deep blue milky haze, penetrated only by dim orange lights from the control panel. My head bobbed with its new-found weight. A sudden surge of blood from my lower extremities had brought me back. Arms lurching forward, A cold sensation rushed up through my fingertips.
“The station is decelerating,” rang a distant voice.
The air was frigid. Each breath singed the delicate flesh lining my throat while the harness tore into my skin. The station was slowing, but there wasn’t an explanation for why. The craft accelerated due to the slingshot effect from leveraging the mass’s gravity. Any deceleration would require an opposing force—physics 101. Newton’s laws were pretty clear on that.
The panels looked nominal. No flashing lights or sirens were going off to indicate a problem.
“Arlo,” I tried to groan, unable to finish my thought.
“The rate of deceleration is increasing.”
That’s confusing.
“Arlo, why?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
Ahhh this sucks.
“Why are we slowing?”
“An external force to the station.”
“What… force?” I managed to cough out.
“I am unsure, but I have detected an anomaly within the gravitational wave sensor.”
“Anomaly?”
“Yes. It is displaying on screen.”
The station’s deceleration declined enough that I could hold my torso steady and unbuckle the harness clasps. Putting one foot out to brace against the forward-pressing forces, I rose and stumbled to the back of the room. The same pattern of gravitational waves I’d seen earlier displayed on the screen. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
“Arlo, where’s the anomaly? I’m not seeing it.”
“The wave displayed is the inverse of a gravitational wave,” Arlo tried to explain.
“Meaning what exactly?”
“In layman’s terms, the wave exhibits a repulsive force rather than the attractive force of a gravitational wave.”
“So it’s pushing against us, not pulling us. I got it.”
How’s that possible?
“Arlo, what kind of force could repel like that?”
“No such force is in my corpus.”
“What’s our speed?”
“Given our current deceleration, the craft will be stationary momentarily. Also, I believe it is permanent to inform you that the passive sensors detected high radiation levels emanating from point sources.”
“A planet?”
“Smaller. Most likely other crafts given the wave signatures.”
Other crafts?
“What else can you tell from their wave signatures?”
“Nothing else. I will inform you if I discover anything pertinent.”
“Arlo, have we crossed Earth’s orbit?”
“No. By my calculations, we are between the orbits of Jupiter and Mars.”
The craft had been stopped deliberately. However, there wasn’t an explanation for how a force could decelerate and stop an object.
“The radiation signals are approaching. I would advise—” Arlo began but was cut off by a thunderous metallic noise that drowned the hull. The station shuttered, sending me to my knees. A resounding, dull thud followed from the other side. I sprinted through connecting corridors, following the sound of grinding metal, worried that whatever stopped us compromised the outer shell’s integrity. Each compartment had its containment mechanism in the event of an air leak. If there was a breach in the blackout room, the airlock must be manually operated to save the rest of the craft.
Pinpoint burn marks formed in a circular pattern on the white insulation tiling of the blackout room. One after the other, the points connected until the entirety of the shape had formed. A pop reverberated through the floors and up my legs when a portion of the bulkhead disappeared. My vision flashed white as my body tumbled to the ground.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
****
It was dark. I couldn’t tell if I was conscious or knocked out, stuck in the limbo of a dream. Heat radiated from somewhere above. It was warmer than before, which was welcome but unnerving. A prickly sensation wormed its way up my spine. At first, it started in the center, then spread like tentacles writhing through my skin. Soon, my whole body was enveloped, like rolling in a cactus patch, but somehow more pleasant. My foot twitched, knocking my toes against a firm surface.
Am I still on the station?
I was lying on a soft but supportive table, extending the width of my shoulder blades, a cocoon enveloping overhead. This isn’t the pod. I tried lifting my hand and knocking against the shell. The space was tight, and I could only manage a light whack from a limp wrist. It didn’t make much sound, but enough to grab the attention of whatever was on the other side. The outline of a hand print illuminated the ceiling of my confines. The hand was no different than mine, all be it with shorter, narrow fingers.
Someone’s out there.
“Hey,” I bellowed. “Let me out.”
The handprint disappeared, and a rush of cold liquid pooled in from below, stealing my breath as it rose.
“Hey! Get me out of here!”
The handprint returned, reflecting off the black liquid quickly rising to the top. Elbows pointed, I tried to stay above its encroaching shroud but slipped and submerged momentarily. I had one attempt left. A small pocket of air resided at the top. My lungs burned and were already taking on fluids. In a last desperate effort, I shoved my mouth upward, pulling in the remaining air before dunking into the liquid.
I can’t die here. I can’t die–
Seconds felt like minutes in that abyss. I expected the cocoon to release any moment, flooding the floor. Hypoxia started setting in. My brain screamed for fresh oxygen. Every neuron fought against a natural urge to breathe. My chest convulsed, but my mind stayed firm in its resolve. I knew I was losing the battle, though. My chest heaved like tremors through a fault line. My stomach caved into my spine. With one last life-saving attempt, I jammed my feet against the end of that tomb. It was solid. Unbreakable, unlike my will. Water jetted down my trachea, bursting my lungs with an arctic swell.
Forming a thought became impossible. My body tried to expel the liquid. Convulsions turned violent, knocking my head and heels against the platform below. I drifted into an indistinguishable abyss, unable to tell if I was dead or dreaming.
****
Light arced down from above, refracting off pockets murk in the liquid. Strands of separated colors, like fishing lines cast in an endless ocean, meandered down and caressed my skin. The light drew nearer. Broken fractals crashed upon my chest until it was bare. An octagonal pattern of bright lights bore down as the liquid receded.
Come back.
Never before had I felt more at peace with the world than I had in my cocoon. The trials and tribulations of this life melted away like a fresh dusting on a sunlit hillside. I felt my daughter’s touch there and through her, God.
My torso bolted out of the cocoon, projecting the silky, warm fluid from my lungs. Coughing and spitting, I pulled the last strands of mucus from my throat.
Put me back.
Tall vertical walls lined by matte rectangular tiles rose above me. The cocoon was the centerpiece, surrounded by thin metal appendages moving in unison to accomplish some unknown task.
“Hey,” I said, barely able to muster an audible sound. But as soon as the sound left my throat, it was swallowed by the walls. Carefully, I stepped out of the cocoon, and to my surprise, my legs obeyed. Unlike waking from the pod, I had complete control of my body. An energized euphoria replaced the hangover-like effects of my pod.
Whoever they are, they have this process dialed.
I wondered about the space, inspecting every inch of the walls for a seam or break. There had to be a door somewhere, but try as I might, I couldn’t find it. Matte tiles blended into one another, staggered like a mosaic with no discernible pattern.
“Hello,” I tried again, looking to the ceiling for any sign of response.
“Hello. Hey! Where am I?”
“You are in a holding area in the upper stratosphere of the planet Earth.”
Earth.
“Holding area for what? Why was I in that pod?”
“You are being quarantined for potential pathogens.”
“What pathogens?”
“Ones we believed long extinct, but your biome shows trace amounts.”
“Who are you?”
“Of course, that was rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Clay. I am the special medical advisor to the United Nations government. The controlling body here on Earth.”
“What happened to my station? How did I get here?”
“Unfortunately, there was a hull compromise during our docking procedure. The alloys used to form the structure were considerably weaker than the docking mechanism was designed for. I was rushed immediately to the sector in which you were found to perform life-saving measures. You are lucky to be alive, having sustained depressurization for that long.”
“Why did you board my craft?”
“I didn’t board your craft. But, it’s standard procedure to board and search when an unknown vessel enters the system without authorization.”
“Well, it wasn’t my intention to.”
“How are you feeling?”
He’s changing the subject.
“Good, except for the part where you drowned me,” I said, realizing I was completely nude, standing in the middle of that room.
“That is part of the procedure. You’ll get used to it in time. The fluid entering your lungs allows the nanites to access your bloodstream and make necessary repairs. What is your age?”
“Thirty-eight, why? What are nanites?”
“A considerable amount of pre-cancerous material was detected and cleaned. I don’t often see levels like that in persons under two hundred. And nanites enter the bloodstream clean pathogens and cancers.”
Two hundred?
“What are you going to do with me?”
“We will keep you here for another day for observation. After which time, you’ll be released to an envoy of the United Nations.”
“And then what?” I tried, but Clay didn’t respond. I was alone again, unsure of what to do next. I searched the room for additional information for another half hour but found nothing. The walls were uniform, and no blemish or irregular seam could be found. The energy from before waned, and my eyes grew heavy. Away from the octagonal light, there was a dim corner where I could lean against the wall and get some rest. Sleep overtook fear.