Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 46 -Tiptree-The Sound of Silence

It had been too long.

Tiptree didn't care what Samuel said. Ready for it this time, she shoved past his weak attempt to block her again. He probably wanted to know what was going on just as badly as she did. He just didn't want to be responsible in any way.

Even still, Samuel stayed in the sleeping quarters. Tiptree went on to the main corridor by herself. She was driven by Kass's lopsided smile.

Need to see it again.

The desire ate at her. No one else, save maybe Forster, had someone to save back home. Tiptree knew full well the cost of failing. Though it wasn't fair to think such things, she intended to make work of what the other two missions had failed at.

The walls of the main corridor echoed her steps back at her. She adjusted, striving for stealthy. Her footfalls fell silent. Or, as silent as she could muster. Then all she heard was her own breathing, which she too tried to minimize, with little success.

In the mess hall, an eerie red light blanketed the tables. It was most likely a power saving measure. Knowing the practical reason did little to stave off Tiptree's anxiety. The red lines created shifting shadows. Darkness collected in the corners of the room, gaping maws that might swallow, or produce a hand to snatch her up.

Twice, she checked behind her. In front of her. To the side. She was alone. Her breathing rushed out in stilted bursts.

Calm. The. Fuck. Down.

Of course, the internal self-threat merely un-calmed her. The familiar dread built, rose, threatening to choke her.

Tiptree struggled to drag in each breathe, hanging on a nearby chair. A haze settled over her eyes.

Breathe. It's okay. I love you, and always will.

Kass's voice washed away a layer of marble crushing her chest.

Breathe.

Tiptree inhaled, somewhat easier, somewhat quieter.

It's okay.

The haze cleared. Remnants of the panic clawed inside, but she was able to move without it crippling her.

Back in the main corridor, silence followed. Until it didn't.

"Shh, hurry up."

Tiptree hung back a ways. The voice had startled her, but she managed to clamp her breathing to a minimum. Ahead by a few meters, two dark figures lurked near a particle wall. She had only ever seen the posture one other time in her life.

A memory knocked inside her head. She saw the same corridor months (actually, years) earlier, flooded with light. A man had paused up ahead. One might say he had lurked.

Jason.

Twice in one mission, he had visited the same mundane spot. But what was so special about this corridor? He had awoken from the chamber, stowed away to another planet, and had ended his journey here.

Tiptree was unsure of who the second figure was. For all she knew, it was Guin. Good, ol', infected Guin.

Infect.

The word struck with her.

Suddenly, she knew exactly why and what Jason was accessing.

He and his accomplice had disappeared from view, safely stowed behind the particle wall disguised as a ship corridor. She wasn't stupid enough to follow. They would infect her, or worse, kill her. Instead of the dumb follow-them idea, she returned to the mess hall.

Appealing to the interface, she whispered, "There's a continual error."

The cheery female voice wanted to know, "What do you mean by that?"

The fact that she had gotten an answer meant Russ had succeeded in gaining control over the ship. She breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she had not remembered Samuel's code words correctly, she could ensure that the right people could salvage the mission.

"Notify Russ and Samuel of potential mission failure. Two insurgents have entered," Tiptree couldn't drum up the right phrasing, then settled on, "a restricted zone of the ship."

"Relaying message," the voice promised.

Another thing occurred to her, and she added, "Lock down main corridor access, exceptions being me, Russ, and Samuel."

"Lock down verified."

Tiptree slumped against the interface console on the wall. Adrenaline which had roused her was suddenly waning. Her shoulders sagged and her knees threatened to buckle. She allowed another few moments of exhaustion before drawing in a deep breath and straightening her stance.

The traitors would soon emerge, trapped and desperate. Confronting them unarmed was still a bad idea, but that wouldn't prevent them from seeking out victims. Tiptree decided it was best to be prepared.

So she ignored the dark corners in the mess hall and headed to the interactive training room.