Samuel trusted the auto-pilot as far as he could not throw it. Internally, he cursed the tech, the gear, and Tiptree. She was freaking out on such a large scale that she left little room for his neurosis. But one of 'em needed to have their shit together, and for the first time in his life, Samuel was it.
"Entering atmosphere," the interface announced.
"Damn it," Tiptree muttered.
Her worry underscored his own. The pod ship shook precariously, and Samuel ran through a list of past regrets, with accepting the mission ranking high.
Minutes later, the ship landed in the middle of a lush expanse. Everywhere he glanced, green rolling hills, green plants thirty feet high, and a tinge of green waving against the blue sky. Green for go, green for money, green for jedi light sabers.
"Green is good, right?" Samuel asked.
The question was ill-placed, and ill-received by Tiptree.
She frowned. "What's that mean?"
"Forget it," he said.
All that was important was the arrival, and they best not fuck it up, as per direct instruction from Forster.
Only one problem. The outer door failed to pressurize, as the interface announced over and over.
"We fly all this way for faulty tech?" Samuel wondered aloud.
"Hey, at least this can't be blamed on us."
Tiptree's sanity seemed to increase right after landing. She was more like the person on launch day and less like the worrier from before. So long as she didn't devolve into the crazy mess from the first planet.
"What about a bot?" Samuel checked around the cabin space.
At the word, a Control bot strode forward, prepared for service. Mid-stride, the bot ceased movement. Samuel knocked on the husk, issuing orders to an unrelenting face.
Unzipping the compartment holding the ansible, Tiptree replied, "We'll have to request one that works."
~*~
The ansible buzzed, indicating an incoming comm.
Forster removed the device from his coveralls to listen to the messages:
Tech malfunctions.
Outer door failed to pressurize.
Send a bot.
After confirming the health status of both crew members, he notified them that the repair bot would be en route.
He noticed Guin listening in on the confidential conversation.
"Yes?" He raised a brow.
"You're only going to send a bot?" she asked.
"That's right." He flipped virtual switches, initiating a pod launch.
"Launch confirmed," the computer said.
"Hmph," Guin said.
Instead of storming off, she stuck around, watching him work. After five minutes, she stood, squeezed him on the shoulder, and left.
Forster shook him head, the warmth from her fingers lingering.
She may be a pain in the ass, but ten years is a long time.
"Launch confirmed," the interface quietly interrupted.
"The hell?"
Forster had sent the bot five minutes prior. The interface had to be glitching.
He hit a few buttons, checking the exits for a misfire. On port 5, he caught sight of a slow moving object, too slow for a pod.
"Is that a life raft?" He squinted at the screen, wishing he'd upgraded to composites before the trip.
"Yes, a life raft has released from the ship," the computer said.
"Well, who's on board?" he asked cheerfully.
"A retinal scan marks Guin as the passenger."
No wonder she'd been watching him, the Minx.
"Guin, what do you think you're doing?"
In answer, the pod drifted further and faster away.
"Guin?"
He gave her another minute to respond before he commanded the computer, "Remote override the lifeboat and return to ship."
"The command has been overridden."
Forster radioed the raft a final time, knowing she would hear him. "Have fun, Guin, 'cause when you come back, you're in deep shit."
To his left, the comms interface crackled, and an unfamiliar voice asked for his name.
He responded with, "Control, this is Captain Forster. Did you receive the status report?"
"Control?" the voice repeated back slowly. "There is no Control."
~*~
Her body split apart, and her thoughts cut from side to side. Russ watched in horror as her hand slipped into nothing.
Just as suddenly, the hand reappeared, snapped back, and shook her, hard. She wrestled with the tight grip. When she couldn't throw it off, she yelled.
"Christ, Russ, it's just me, Forster. Wake up."
Through her protests, she recognized the calming voice of the Captain.
Her eyes winked open, and she released a string of groaning nonsense before speaking clearly.
"Yes, Captain?"
He took in a deep breath, releasing it with equal effort. "How are you?"
"I'm okay." Which wasn't exactly true, but he didn't need to know about her splitting headache and nausea. "What's wrong?"
"The first set of fuck-ups has arrived, and all at once too."
"In what way?"
"To start, there is no more Control."
~*~
A/N: Isn't that just how a good thing comes apart, not bit by bit, but all at once?
Dedicated to a fellow writer I admire, kalelcoetzee. Add his horror novel, As Shadows Scream, book 1 in the trilogy!