Chapter 07 – Resist
“Mr. Almeida? Are you alright?” Xuefeng’s voice pierced through the fog of my unplanned slumber, his words echoing slightly in the confined space of the ship’s cabin. The metallic taste in my mouth told me I’d been sleeping with my jaw clenched again.
“Ah—Yes, sorry, I lost track of time,” I replied, stifling a yawn that made my jaw crack. The harsh fluorescent lights above made my eyes water as I blinked away the drowsiness.
“It’s been a difficult week, and you’re making excellent progress.” Xuefeng’s typically stern expression softened slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with what might have been approval.
“Thank you.” I straightened myself in weightlessness, feeling the vertebrae pop one by one.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Get everything organized, and let’s wrap up the week here,” he said with a shy smile—the kind that seemed foreign on his weathered face. Dr. Xuefeng was a man who wore exhaustion like a well-pressed suit, never letting it show. But over the past days he had become more and more tired.
“Won’t this delay my training?” I asked, more out of politeness than concern. The thought of additional work made my muscles ache in protest.
“Don’t worry, you’re on track.” He waved away my question with a hand wave.
“Agreed then.”
“I’ll let Commander Chen know he can use the Virgo earlier if he wants,” he said while entering the airlock chamber. “Leave everything according to the standards we discussed. I don’t want to be embarrassed.”
“Will do, Mr. Xuefeng.”
The Virgo’s internal panels had become as familiar to me as the back of my hand. Each screw, each connection point, each subtle variation in the metal’s texture—I could practically dismantle and reassemble them blindfolded. Xuefeng’s standards were impossibly high, bordering on obsessive, but I’d learned to appreciate his attention to detail. Even so, I knew that no matter how meticulously I worked, his eagle eyes would spot some microscopic flaw. I gave myself one hour to do the best job possible.
Unlike the battle-worn Peregrina, the Virgo still carried that distinctive scent of newness—a mixture of fresh polymers and clean metal that tickled my nostrils. But according to Xuefeng, the recent wave of Overseer attacks had taken their toll on the fleet. The ships were accumulating wear not just from combat damage, but from shortened maintenance cycles in the Broodmother. Each vessel spent less and less time in the docks, pushing their systems to the limit.
Zero-g made the work easier, at least physically. I steadied an aluminum panel with my left hand while my right worked to arrange the maze of cables behind it. The free-fall sensation had become second nature to me, though my stomach still occasionally protested at sudden movements, especially after a long nap. Before securing the final plate, I ran my hand along the interior, checking for valve leaks. My fingers brushed against something loose.
“Shit... Just what I needed now,” I cursed, watching my breath form a small cloud in the cool air.
I let the aluminum plate drift in the cabin’s center, using both hands to navigate the twisted jungle of cables. The thought of dismantling everything again made me groan internally. I pulled a flashlight from my suit’s breast pocket, it cut through the shadows like a sun. The sight made my blood run cold: the liquid hydrogen pipeline feeding one of the RCS blocks was exposed with its insulation blanket torned away.
“We worked on this yesterday... Did we do something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Panic crept into my mind. The implications hit me like a physical blow. Without proper insulation layers, these pipes were essentially a bomb waiting to happen.
“Has it been like this since yesterday? If they used the ship this way, it only didn’t explode out of pure luck,” I muttered, trying to force logic through the fear. “No, it can’t be—with all the maneuvers they do in training, this would have definitely exploded.”
My hands moved with haste as I began dismantling everything. Time pressured me to take shortcuts—I left the aluminum plates floating freely instead of securing them to the floor. It wasn’t protocol, but I was alone and I wanted to fix everything before Chen arrived. Four plates drifted around me like metallic clouds as I worked.
The damage to the blanket revealed itself fully under my scrutiny. The initial tear wasn’t random or wear-induced—it seemed to be sawed, with frayed edges and loose pieces. My stomach tightened at the implications.
“Could this be some kind of hydrogen leak?” I wondered, running my gloved fingers along the pipe’s surface. The metal felt uniform, offering no obvious clues.
Reaching into the toolbox that floated nearby, I grabbed what I initially mistook for a barcode reader—it was actually an ultrasound probe. I traced it methodically along the pipeline, searching for the distinctive signatures of hydrogen embrittlement. This insidious process, where hydrogen atoms infiltrate metals and weaken their structure, should have been prevented by the hybrid polyurethane membrane. Its incorporated microcapsules of reversible Diels-Alder bonds were designed specifically to self-heal and stabilize any hydrogen-induced cracks.
The ultrasound readings came back clean—both pipeline and inner membrane were intact. Switching tactics, I began hunting for any sharp edges that could have caused the blanket tear. I took a sample of the damaged material and tested it against various internal surfaces, but nothing matched the damage pattern I was seeing.
The airlock’s distinctive hiss broke my concentration. “Must be Mr. Xuefeng,” I thought, too absorbed in my investigation to turn around.
A hollow thud followed by a deep, angry voice proved me wrong. “What the hell!” Commander Chen’s words reverberated through the cabin, accompanied by the sound of flesh meeting metal. I spun around to find him clutching his forehead, where an angry red welt was already forming.
“Commander?!” The surprise nearly made me lose my grip on the probe. “I’m sorry,” I added hastily, propelling myself toward him with a push against the nearest wall.
“What are these damn plates doing floating around?” His face had turned almost as red as the injury, veins standing out on his neck.
“I found a problem with the ship and I’m trying to solve it.” The words tumbled out quickly, professionally, despite my racing heart.
“Then secure the damn things where they belong, for fuck’s sake!” His volume increased with each word, making the small space feel even more confined.
I scrambled to collect the plates, watching one still lazily rotating from its collision with the Commander’s head. My fingers fumbled with the securing mechanisms, acutely aware of Chen’s burning glare.
“What problem did you find? Mr. Xuefeng said you were done for today,” he demanded, his hand still pressed against the growing bump on his forehead.
“I was doing the final inspection and noticed that the insulation blanket on one of the RCS pipelines was damaged. I had to remove all the plates to inspect it.” I tried to keep my voice steady, professional.
“Let me see that,” he growled, pushing off the wall with surprising grace despite his anger.
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“Here, look at the state of the blanket.” I gestured toward the damaged area, the flashlight beam highlighting the suspicious tear.
His eyes narrowed as he barely glanced at the components. “This shit is sabotage,” he declared, the words falling like lead in the zero-gravity environment.
“Isn’t that a hasty diagnosis? There are several factors that could have caused this. Besides, other than Dr. Xuefeng and I, no one else entered here, right?” I ventured, trying to inject some reason into the situation.
His face hardened, mouth curving downward in disapproval. “Yes, only you two and my crew have access to the ship.”
“Then there must be a logical explanation for this that isn’t sabotage.” Even as I said it, doubt gnawed at the edges of my conviction.
“Try to find that solution then. I’m going to look for Dr. Xuefeng.” He launched himself through the airlock with predatory efficiency, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the damaged blanket.
“Damn, why didn’t I just close everything up and pretend I hadn’t seen it...” The thought was tempting, seductive in its simplicity. Then the reality hit me: “If I had done that, the entire Virgo crew would be dead in a few hours.”
I checked the exit chamber, finding it locked. Not that I had anywhere to go in the vast expanse of the Broodmother, but the confirmation of my containment made my chest tighten slightly.
✹✸✶✸✹
The next fifteen minutes stretched like elastic, each second ticking by with excruciating slowness. I used the time to test every possible theory I could think of, examining the damage from every angle, running diagnostic after diagnostic. But each test only led me back to Commander Chen’s conclusion—the tear had been created deliberately. The precision of the damage, the angle of the cuts, the consistent depth of the marking, they all pointed to intentional sabotage. The realization sat in my stomach like a block of ice.
The sound of the airlock cycling made me turn. The figure that emerged was exactly what I’d been dreading: a hulking form in black and red armor, moving with the mechanical precision of someone who’d done this countless times before.
“You’re being summoned to testify,” the figure announced, voice distorted by the helmet’s speaker system.
“Alright, you don’t need to use force, I’ll go willingly,” I responded, trying to keep my voice steady despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs.
He ignored my cooperation, seizing my arm with enough force to leave bruises and hurling me into the chamber. The decompression cycle seemed to take forever, the pressure changes making my ears pop painfully. On the other side, another armored figure grabbed me with equal roughness, their grip like iron through the fabric of my suit. The déjà vu hit hard, just days ago I’d been manhandled through these same corridors.
They marched me through a dimly lit room where I caught a glimpse of Mr. Xuefeng, his usually composed face drawn with worry, sitting across from another armored soldier. My escort didn’t slow down, shoving me into a similar chamber next door. The space was claustrophobic—barely larger than a storage closet—with chairs that looked like they’d been designed to be uncomfortable and a table that wobbled with the slightest touch. They didn’t bother with restraints; the armored guard’s presence was constraint enough. What caught my attention, making my breath catch slightly, was their insignia: a red-eyed dragon, the symbol of Xīn Tiāntáng Wángguó, seeming to glare at me with malevolent intelligence. These weren’t A.U.T.N soldiers.
image [https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/081/428/241/large/rklehm-emblem.jpg?1730234256]
The interrogation began immediately. I recounted every moment since first boarding the Virgo, trying to remember every detail, every conversation, every maintenance check. The armored figure’s questions came rapid-fire, flat and emotionless, giving no indication whether my answers satisfied them or not.
“Do you believe Mr. Xuefeng carried out the sabotage?” The question cut through the air like a blade.
“No, why would he do that?” I shot back, perhaps too quickly.
The helmet tilted slightly, the red-tinted visor reflecting my own anxious face back at me. “If you have any information that would help us understand this ‘case,’ you’d better speak up now. The more you cooperate, the better our gratitude will be.” The threat underlying the words was about as subtle as a sledgehammer.
“I understand this whole situation is delicate. But I had nothing to do with this, and I believe Mr. Xuefeng is innocent too,” I insisted. True, I’d only known him for a few days, but in this place, that was true of everyone.
“You know that in the room next door, they’re asking Dr. Xuefeng these same questions, don’t you? If he chooses to rat you out before you rat him out, he’s the one who’ll receive our gratitude.” The words dripped with calculated menace.
“If he does that, he’d be lying.” I fought to keep my voice from shaking.
“Mr. Almeida...” The pause that followed seemed to stretch into infinity. “You came from another world. Of all those we tried to rescue, you were the only one we managed to save. You arrive here and start spreading all these stories about Earth, causing chaos in the admiralty council. What guarantees me that you were only rescued because the Overseers wanted you to be rescued? What guarantees me that you’re not here serving the Overseers?”
The accusation hit me like a physical blow. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and my throat constricted until it felt like trying to breathe through a straw. The implications of their suspicions were far worse than I’d imagined. My mind raced, searching for a way out of this trap.
“Does the rest of the admiralty know I’m here?” I attempted to appeal to a higher authority, my voice was barely more than a whisper in the cramped room.
The helmet tilted again, and I could almost feel the smirk behind it. “A.U.T.N will know when it’s time. Before that, you’ll need to answer our questions.”
The pieces clicked into place—this wasn’t an official investigation. My heart rate kicked up another notch. “This isn’t a testimony anymore; you’re trying to incriminate me. I’ll only continue talking in the presence of A.U.T.N representatives.” I tried to inject confidence into my voice, but the words came out shakier than I’d intended.
“Then enjoy this little room. Just try not to wet yourself.” He turned and left, the lock engaging with a final, ominous click.
✹✸✶✸✹
Time became meaningless in that windowless box. The harsh overhead light never dimmed, and the constant hum of ventilation systems played tricks with my mind. I counted seconds, then minutes, then gave up entirely. It might have been an hour, it felt like days.
The door burst open with enough force to make me jump. Before I could process what was happening, armored hands grabbed my arms with bruising force again.
“What’s happening? Where are you taking me?” I shouted at the top of my lungs, hoping someone—anyone—would hear. The response was immediate and brutal: a steel-reinforced fist connected with my mouth. The taste of iron flooded my senses as stars exploded behind my eyes. The world went dark for a moment, then slowly swam back into focus.
Through my dazed vision, I saw they were dragging Dr. Xuefeng ahead of us. His normally pristine appearance was disheveled, his clothing wrinkled and his hair askew. The corridors of the gravitational ring echoed with chaos—boots on metal, shouted orders, the distinctive sound of armor against armor.
Behind us, I could make out what seemed to be A.U.T.N forces or perhaps troops from another nation, engaged in a violent clash with Xin Tiantang’s soldiers. The sounds of combat reverberated through the metal corridors like thunder.
They practically threw us through a doorway marked with Xin Tiantang’s flag. Below it, words were stenciled in stark white: “Sovereign territory, do not cross.” Inside, they shoved us into another cramped room, not bothering with explanations or pretense. The door slammed behind us with finality.
“Did they torture you?” Xuefeng asked after noticing my bleeding mouth.
I probed the cut with my tongue, wincing. “No, this was just now because I was shouting,” I managed to say through swollen lips.
“Did you tell them anything?”
“I told the truth, of course. I have nothing to hide.”
“They told me they had a recording of you talking to the Overseers inside the cryogenic chamber on Genesis IX.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“If they have any recording of me, it’ll just be me vomiting perfluorocarbon and cursing. This doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a cough.
“I checked everything before lunch, the blankets were intact.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can’t explain what happened either. They’re trying to incriminate me at all costs. I’ll only speak in the presence of other A.U.T.N representatives.” The bravado in my voice felt hollow even to my own ears.
Xuefeng’s response carried the weight of terrible certainty: “In here, A.U.T.N can’t do anything. They won’t let you leave, and neither will they let me.” His words hung in the air like smoke, choking off any remaining hope of a simple resolution.
The sounds of conflict outside seemed to grow more distant, or perhaps that was just my imagination. In this moment, trapped in a box within a box, surrounded by forces we couldn’t control or understand, the vastness of space had never felt so oppressive.