Ancient Astronauts

Aftermath

The halls of the Astral Ark were bathed in red. Screams echoed throughout the passages, bouncing off the steel frame panels. Hans couldn't tell which direction they came from. He just ran and ran, calling out for passengers or crew to tell him where they were.

Rounding a corner he tripped over a rent piece of metal and fell on something warm and sticky. He scrambled back quickly, loose burned flesh sticking to his hands and uniform. He could tell from the charred remains of the clothing that the corpse had been crew. Part of him wanted to stop and let the horror take hold, but his training kicked in.

He hauled himself to his feet again when he heard another scream. This one sounded closer, coming from below...and familiar. 

"F2-Deck," he thought. 

Popping open a hatch in the wall, Hans climbed down one floor. The door from the access shaft to the deck slid open, and stopped.

At his feet lay a chunk of asteroid about six feet long and two feet wide. Just beyond the asteroid shard, right across the hall, the thick graphene-based outer hull of the ship was rent open, its ragged edges undulating aimlessly in empty space. The asteroid had punched through three layers of the ship, leaving nothing between Hans and outer space but the hallway he stood on.

A thought wormed its way to the front of Hans' mind, "How am I breathing?"

The scream came again from down the hall. Hans pushed the miracle of breath in open space from his mind and bounded toward it. He paused for a second in front of the door to the passenger cryo bay to cast an incredulous glance down the passage that should not be breathable but was. 

The scream came again and he threw open the door, running inside.

A passenger lay against her cryo pod. Her belly swollen, and her chest rent open in three vertical incisions spaced evenly apart. The pale white ends of the sliced ribs shown clearly through blood flowing from the wound. Red hair cascaded haphazardly down her face.

"No," Hans choked, rushing forward and pushing the hair aside. "Aly?"

Hans forced back a sob. It was easier than he'd thought it would be. He'd seen worse in the war, but this was Aly. "Do you even love her?" His subconscious whispered cynically.

Hans pulled off his coat, ripping the buttons in the process, and cast it aside. Then tore off his cotton shirt and pressed it against the wounds.

"Hans?" Alyonna whispered.

"Aly?" Hans cried, "It's ok, baby, you're ok. We're ok. I'm gonna get you to a doctor." He tried to pick her up, but she screamed in pain, the blood forcing its way through the shirt, flowing warm and sticky over his torso.

He set her back down, and grabbed his jacket, pressing that into the wound also. Then quickly removed his belt and bound it fast across her chest.

He cast about quickly for the piece of the ship that could've inflicted such an injury, but the room was completely intact.

"I have to get you out of here," Hans whispered urgently.

Aly's head rolled forward. He caught her cheek and pushed her head against his shoulder.

"No, Hans," Aly whispered, "You can't."

"Don't tell me I can't–"

"You can't Hans. You have to save this ship and everyone on it. You can't do that if you're dead too."

"No!" Hans bellowed. Aly would've flinched if she'd been able, "Dead too? You're alive, and you're gonna stay that way!"

"No, Hans," slowly, painfully Aly reached up a hand to the side of Hans' head. She looked up at him with all the love of their years together, the innocent attraction of a young girl, the shocked mirth of breaking her nose on his shoulder, and the passion of first love. Then the light slowly faded in her eyes, "Watch your six," she whispered in President Beaufort's voice.