A voice cuts through the darkness, the infinite expanse of star filled space giving way to a mangled starship floating like an insignificant speck on the cosmos.

"If the baby is to survive the hour, you will need to find a way to keep her warm. Nourishment will also be vital to her survival. However there may be a more pressing issue."

The baby, whimpering softly, is wrapped in the bloody remains of her mother's clothes, clutched to her father's chest as he kicks off of another bulkhead, propelling himself down the hallway to another door.

"Computer, override this door. It's residential, there should be blankets inside if the room is intact."

"You are allowing your emotions to cloud your thoughts. There is a more pressing issue."

The emotionless computer is nearly enough to drive the man into a rage.

"What could possibly be more important than my daughter?!?"

"Life support will fail in less than seven minutes."

Something happens deep in the ship, sending a shudder through the vessel that rattles the man's bones and leaves his child wailing.

"Secondary systems offline. Life support compromised. I am sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The man's voice is cold, his eyes on his daughter.

"The fore section of the ship is no longer part of my sensor network. Only two remaining life signs within my range. Life support will fail in less than six minutes. Broadcast antenna down. Chance of survival. 0%"

"Computer, if you're not going to be any help, go fuck yourself."

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He turns his thoughts inward, trying to formulate a plan.

"Computer, are the cryo pods intact?"

"Yes. However power will fail within the next four hours."

"What about secondary power systems? Can they be rerouted to the cryo pods?"

"Yes sir. However secondary systems will be down roughly 24 hours after primary power fails."

The man nods to himself.

"What about one of the generators in the vehicle bay? If I could hook one of those up to a pod, set up a power bank with multiple power cores, could I in theory keep the pod powered until rescue?"

"Chance of personal survival. 8%. Chance of baby's survival. 3%."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

The man spends a few more seconds in thought.

"Ok, here's the plan. Flag likely routs to and from the cryo bay, vehicle bay, anywhere oxygen is stored, and any place I might find supplies for the baby."

"Calculating. Be advised, you could triple your odds of survival if-"

"If you say what I think you're about to say, I will shut you down and do this on my own."

"Understood."

A second later, a map displays across the interior of the man's helmet, large parts of the ship marked in red while precious few appear viable.

The baby continues to cry as he changes course.

"Sorry baby girl. I need to make one quick stop before we can find you something to eat."

His voice seems to have no effect on the baby as she continues to wail.

A couple of minutes later, the man is in an airlock, the computer informing him that life support will fail within three minutes, and the baby hastily strapped into a bit of webbing to prevent her from drifting away. The man eventually finds what he's looking for, looks pleased with himself and turns back to the baby.

"Ok baby girl, here is what we're going to do. I'm going to bundle you in a thermal blanket and stuff you in a EVA suit like mine. You're probably not going to like it, but it will help keep you warm and we don't have to worry about decompression or running out of air for a while."

Putting action to words, he ties the arms and legs of the suit in his hands together, helping to condense the suit down a bit, then hooks one of the three oxygen tanks he found to the suit.

He hears as much as feels the ventilation system shut down half way through. Knowing that the life support has failed and that the air is no longer renewing itself.

"Computer, can you read the vitals of the baby inside the suit once she's inside?"

Putting actions to words, he unwraps her from her mother's shirt, then wraps her in the thermal blanket he had found before carefully sliding her inside. He feels more than a little concern as he sees her breath in the air, a clear sign that it's already getting cold in this part of the ship.

"Yes sir, I will be able to read her vitals."

"Let me know the second there's any sign of complications."

Cradling the suit with his daughter inside against his chest, he positions it so he can look though her helmet and see her little face.

Accompanied by the cries of his daughter, he leaves the airlock, ready to seek out the next destination on his list.