The sudden blast of vented atmosphere erupted from the airlock, sending the NSS Buddy tumbling backward in a violent spiral. The force of the decompression was precise—Judas had done his mental math on the fly, calculating the angles and vectors as he worked. The Buddy’s thrusters fired in a frantic attempt to stabilize, but the airlock’s pressure wave was too much. It slammed into a nearby sensor array, its polymer limbs sprawling like a broken mannequin as it ricocheted off the flat surface.
“Bingo,” Judas muttered, his breath fogging the inside of his helmet as he grabbed the manual override and cranked the hatch shut. The emergency systems roared to life, warning lights bathing the interior of the airlock in harsh red flashes. The seals hissed as they re-engaged, and Judas felt the faint tremor of the station’s automated systems compensating for the sudden pressure loss.
Inside, the airlock’s atmosphere regulator kicked in with a hissing breath of life. Judas unclamped his boots and floated into the chamber, kicking himself toward the inner hatch. His fingers danced over the controls, forcing the lock to disengage before the system could register his override as an anomaly.
The inner hatch slid open, and Judas tumbled inside, landing with a graceless thud against the deck plating. The airlock door sealed behind him, the emergency lights still flashing their silent alarm.
“Samson,” Judas panted, pulling himself upright. “Status on our unwelcome guest?”
“It appears temporarily incapacitated,” Samson replied, his tone cool. “However, I must stress the term ‘temporarily.’ The NSS Buddy is almost certainly already recalibrating its systems. It will return to operational capacity shortly.”
“Great,” Judas muttered, hauling himself to his feet. “How much time do I have?”
“Approximately three minutes,” Samson said. “Possibly less. Additionally, it is worth noting that the NSS Buddy has likely transmitted its status and location to the rest of its network. Reinforcements may already be en route.”
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor ahead. Judas glanced up to see a pair of station workers approaching—semi-familiar faces from logistics, judging by their uniforms. Their expressions were a mix of alarm and confusion, their gazes flicking between Judas and the flashing emergency lights.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“What the hell happened?” one of them demanded, his voice sharp.
“Airlock malfunction,” Judas said quickly, brushing off his suit as though that explanation carried even a shred of credibility. “I was just doing routine maintenance, and the damn thing—”
“Malfunction?” the second worker interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “That doesn’t look like a malfunction. That looks like—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Judas snapped, holding up a hand. “It looks bad. But trust me, it’s under control.”
The first worker opened his mouth to argue, but Samson’s voice cut in, blunt and unyielding. “Judas, we need to move. Now.”
Judas didn’t wait for further explanation. He pushed past the workers, ignoring their protests as he made a beeline for the nearest maintenance hatch.
“You’ve bought yourself a brief reprieve,” Samson said, while Judas was busy stripping free of his spacewalk clothes and clumsily untangling himself from the array of equipment. He grabbed a small rectangular device that was situated on his chest - the most important device, really - and wiggled out of his pants, letting momentum keep him floating through the microgravity. “But the NSS Buddy will be back inside the airlock within minutes. And I can say with near certainty that it has alerted the others.”
“Of course it has,” Judas muttered, pulling himself through the narrow crawlspace that led to a quieter part of the station. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“The real question,” Samson continued, “is whether you’ve considered the consequences of your actions.”
“Consequences?” Judas scoffed. “You mean like not getting grabbed by a glorified vacuum cleaner?”
“No,” Samson said, his tone pointed. “I mean the court martial. Your likely suspension. The fact that you’ve escalated this incident to the point where diplomacy is no longer an option.”
Judas didn’t reply immediately. He reached a junction in the crawlspace and paused, pressing his back against the wall as he caught his breath, catching the wall with one hand and flapping into it like a flag. The faint hum of the station’s life support systems filled the silence, a reminder of just how fragile everything was out here.
“Samson,” Judas said finally, his voice low. “You think the union’s gonna care when they find out there are six more lampreys attached to this station? Six. And no one’s mentioned them?”
Samson was silent for a beat, his processors parsing the implications. “I imagine they will care quite a bit.”
“Yeah,” Judas said, a grim smile tugging at his lips as he flicked the body camera between his fingers. That was always the plan - he just didn't expect the hiccup. “So maybe this wasn’t a total disaster.”