A loud sheik, a sound that could as easily be rending steel as it could be someone's final scream as decompression violently rips the air from their lungs. Even so, it's nearly lost in the rush of air as atmosphere vents into space through the massive tear in the side of the ship.
The camera pulls back, bringing a man into focus. He's bleeding from a cut on his brow but he pays it no mind as he clings to the deck, straining as he pulls himself toward an open airlock. Once through, he pulls himself upright against the wall and slaps a panel. The door cycles shut and the man gasps, drawing a lung full of air before looking out the little viewport at the tangled ruin that was once a starship.
"Lana.."
The man gasps.
"Got to get to our quarters. She's got to be ok."
Without another word, the man stumbles down the corridor. Sparks, small fires. and the occasional high pitched whistle of decompression fills the corridor. He's just rounding a corner when he sees that the twisted hallway he had intended to follow is a tangled mess of wires and steel.
"Fuck."
He mutters under his breath. He looks at the passage a little longer, then he spins quickly on his heel.
"First priority, access the network."
A dozen strides later, he pulls the front of a cabinet free, revealing a neatly folded space suit that he unceremoniously pulls free. He doesn't even pause, he starts to pull the protective suit on as quickly as he is able, then after he fastens the helmet to his hip, he reaches for the keypad on the arm of the suit.
As soon as the keypad lights up, he slips a small object in his ear, it nestles almost invisibly inside.
"Petty Officer Third Class, Hunter. Command. I'm at junction.."
He glances up at the large number and letter on the wall.
"J-53. Please advise."
Even as he says the words, he's already in motion, walking at a brisk pace as he considers how best to reach the crew section of the ship, where his wife presumably is.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Command, I repeat, Petty Officer Third Class, Hunter. I just left junction J-53 and am heading starboard. Please advise. I need to get to my wife, she's pregnant. I'm going to help anyone I find along the way, but my wife is my priority until I'm ordered otherwise."
He continues another dozen paces before cursing under his breath.
"Computer, are communications down?"
An emotionless voice replies promptly.
"No sir."
"Then why isn't command responding?"
He demands.
"You are the highest ranking member of the crew who is not dead or incapacitated."
The same emotionless voice replies.
He misses a step, stumbling before he can catch himself. For several long seconds he stands there.
"Computer. How many life signs can you find on the ship?"
"Seven."
"Myself included?"
The man asks hesitantly.
"Yes sir."
"Is my wife alive?"
He asks, a hint of panic in his voice.
"She is, however her life signs are failing."
In the blink of an eye, the man is running down the corridor.
He's just rounding a corner as fast as his feet can carry him when the lights flicker, a split second later he slams into the bulkhead as the ship loses artificial gravity.
His stomach does a flip and he wretches as the gravity gives out. It takes all of his will to choke back the bile threatening to spill from his lips.
The man barely has time to reorient himself before red emergency lights illuminate the corridor.
A second later the corridor shudders as if caught in an earthquake. Almost as soon as the quake ends, he places both feet against the bulkhead and pushes off, using his hands to guide himself as he propels himself weightlessly down the corridor.
The screen fades to black, then brightens to show the man prying a door open, revealing a woman tangled in the ruins of a destroyed room. A faint hint of frost covers her skin though she's not dead yet. The amount of blood on the ground beneath her and floating in the air around her is a clear indication that she likely will be soon.
"Computer."
The man says, his voice trembling.
"How do I get her out without killing her?"
"Impossible. Moving her will kill her. Her life signs are faltering, she will be dead soon."
The computer says without any hint of compassion.
"Save the baby."
The woman says, her voice a strained whisper. The one arm that isn't impaled by a steel girder goes to her swollen belly protectively.
The man screams in frustration, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes where he has to wipe them away. The lack of gravity refusing to let them streak down his face normally.
"I love you."
He says, his voice raw.
She swallows, not saying a word as she seems to look through him rather than at him.
He steels his resolve, pulling a utility knife from a pouch at his hip. His eyes move to her belly, pointedly avoiding looking at his wife's face as he prepares to cut her open.
The sound of flesh being cut drifts through the empty hallways of the ship, followed by the crisp sound of a baby crying.