Distress

Back on the Namora, Francesca declares, “Well, it looks like with what we’ve found so far that’s…” She pauses to tally it up in her head and once she has she informs, “…five members of the crew, or what’s left of them, accounted for.”

Francesca lets out a deep sigh. Her stomach is still churning, but she doesn’t think she’s going to be sick. She just feels sickened by what her hands, irrespective of the fact that they are gloved, have been touching. That’s why when this is all over she intends on firing her enviro-suit out into space, whether Captain Jimenez agrees or not. Hell, she’ll even pay for a replacement suit or take a reprimand. She really doesn’t care.

“Do we know which members?” Tasha queries carefully.

The navigators skin tone having taken on a permanent and highly distinctive green hue. It might suggest that Tasha has lost her battle to keep the contents of her stomach where it belongs. As yet she is still undefeated in that department. However, she isn’t at all confident about her victory being assured.

“Er…looks like…Charlotte Perez, Diego Richards, Wendy Chou, Sebestian Tovey and…” Francesca says trying to recall all the names of the crew and then correctly cross-examining them with the pieces that they’ve found thus far.

“…Diedrich Lemonte.” Hector says helpfully giving the one name that Francesca cannot remember.

The medic has calmed down now. Though, unsurprisingly, he still wishes he was doing anything other than this. Not because it’s beneath him. These men and women deserve respect, but because like Francesca and Tasha it makes his skin crawl. And though he might be a medic that does not mean he is any less affected by what they’ve found. You’d have to be a monster, in his eyes, not to be affected.

“We also have Captain Zan.” Hector then adds reminding Tasha to make sure his death is confirmed too. It should, if it isn’t, be the first name on the list, seeing as there is no doubt he’s dead. The vid log proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Whether they have found many parts of the former captain however, Hector cannot say. He just knows that he hasn’t personally.

“That means there’s still three unaccounted for. Two of those are engineers, and one of those engineers is Oliver Krantz. The one Captain Zan seemed to think was the first to elicit abnormal behaviour.” Tasha says thinking aloud as she shakes her head with regret.

“Hector, have you ever heard of something like this?” Francesca queries with a troubled look on her face. The junior security officer is unsure as to why she felt the need to even ask the question in the first place. But she can’t take it back now. She’s issued the question. All three of them have heard it and so she waits for a reply. What response she’ll get she hasn’t a clue.

“I’m no doctor; I’m just a medic, but no. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Still wish I hadn’t.” Hector utters. His voice is unsurprisingly distant as the words leave his mouth. His eyes meanwhile have glazed over and stare at a point a little ahead of him. It’s like he can see through the decking and is looking at something down there, even though he cannot and isn’t.

To change subject and avoid a long awkward silence, Tasha informs, “We still have three more sections to check.”

Her voice is hollow, but unlike Hector she is not staring glassy eyed at a point ahead of her. Instead, her eyes flick from one of her colleagues to the other. There is pain in her eyes but her expression shows none of it.

“Yeah… Engineering, the hold and…” Hector begins to list them off only to realise he doesn’t know what the third is. It’s why his brow furrows.

“…Crew quarters.” Francesca chimes in before taking a sharp inward breath of the air that is circulating around the inside of her suit. She releases the breath a couple seconds later and then turns to Tasha and asks, “Where do you think we should start?”

“I don’t know.” Tasha mutters honestly.

“Is anyone in charge here? Officially I mean?” Hector queries apparently genuinely unaware of Command protocol in such situations.

“Yeah, I am. But I’m inclined to defer to Tasha.” Francesca admits without stating that the only reason they have got this far is because of Tasha’s skills, for better or for worse.

Tasha nods in thanks for the vote of confidence and then begins to think aloud. “Quarters would be the quickest, probably. But engineering does seem like the smallest overall space to cover.”

The navigator-come-hacker stops there and mulls over her thoughts for a while, weighing up the pros and cons of each. It’s a process that lasts almost minute, during which there is complete silence. A silence that is broken when Tasha ultimately concludes, “We should start with the hold first.”

“Why?” Hector questions unable to determine what possible good reason the auburn haired woman could have for wanting to start in the place where the probe that may, or may not, be the cause of everything that has happened is located.

“Why do you think genius? Captain Zan said his engineer Oliver had been obsessed with the probe they stored down there.” Francesca reminds as she jumps in to defend Tasha’s decision. She shouldn’t have to as Hector shouldn’t be questioning it, but he is.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Hector roars in response, his blood pressure starting to rise again as he wonders why these two seem so willing to go to the one place this all apparently stemmed from. If it were up to him he’d keep it locked. Hell, he’d even vent it. If it costs some cargo, he wouldn’t care. His life is worth more than whatever will be packed into the transport crates this vessel will be carrying.

“Well, seeing as the sickness apparently started with that engineer and he was obsessed with the probe. Plus, the fact that no one, accordingly, was exhibiting abnormal behaviour before it was brought on board. Don’t you think we can surmise that whatever did this came from the probe?” Francesca roars back, clearly irate by the questions that Hector is asking when he should simply be following orders. If he’d done that to begin with then there’s a chance they might already be done. Though, it is proof that the almost robot-like responses he was giving before this were in no way who the man truly is. Stress and anxiety have revealed his true nature and it stinks.

“And so you want to go down there?” Hector questions in disbelief. His eyelids flutter rapidly over and over as he wonders how it is that Francesca is not more wary after what they’ve seen.

“Hector, I get it. But we’re in suits. They’re sealed. So as long as there are no tears we’ll be fine, right? And it’s not like we have much choice. You know that.” Tasha offers trying to calm the situation down and reason with the, clearly on edge, medic.

Hector wants to continue arguing but he doesn’t. He relents. He’s outnumbered and outranked. Continuing with this argument is only delaying the inevitable and that is why he shrugs in defeat after a few moments. He knows Tasha is right. Her reasoning is sound. Yet, none of those are the real reason he’s given up the fight.

“Should we get going?” Francesca questions after a period of silence.

The response is unanimous, though in Hector’s case it is begrudgingly.

As they head toward the cargo hold of the Namora he wonders if he should have protested further. Given reasoned arguments that would have countered Tasha’s own, but truth be told the real reason he relented was so he didn’t get left behind. He doesn’t know if the two women would have done that, but he was in no way inclined to find out.

If they had, then he’d have found himself not just alone on the bridge of this eerie ship, but alone on the bridge of this eerie ship surrounded by severed body parts. It is at that point, following a strong shudder, that he concludes that he really did make the right call.

The trio get about six paces before Hector suddenly asks, “How much longer do you think Iain is going to be?”

The medic didn’t think the security chief would take as long as he has. In truth he has nothing to gauge it off of, hence why he is asking now.

“To be honest, we should have heard from him or Ville or the Captain, by now.” Francesca admits hesitantly.

“Should we check on them, Francesca?” Tasha asks concerned. She too had been wondering what was taking Iain so long. It’s unlike him to delay in any way. He’s always so straight to the point whether it be during a conversation or when it comes be carrying out a task.

Francesca shakes her head. They need to get this done. Plus, there’s probably nothing to worry about, and if they weren’t on this eerie transport vessel they likely wouldn’t be. It’s why she instead quickly opens the comms link built into her helmet that links back to the Prowler to see if they have a connection again.

This time she doesn’t get the continual silence from before but a wall of static. Her brow furrows in frustration for a few seconds before she is forced to close the link, so as not to get a headache from that noise. Then the junior security officer informs, “Looks like comms are down completely now. And it’s probably cause one of the archaic systems on this skip of ship has failed. Nothing we should be overly worried about though. It happens.”

Francesca sounds exhausted as the words leave her lips. Its unsurprising seeing as this ship, at least in her eyes, seems to be determined to rail against them and continuously make everything more difficult than it should have to be.

“You say there’s nothing to worry about but we’re on a ship where the entire crew has been chopped up.” Hector reminds as if somehow Francesca could have forgotten. She hasn’t. She isn’t sure she ever will. She’d like to. Hell, they’d all like to. But that is not how human memory works. If anything the memories will only get worse over time. If only the brain didn’t have a tendency to take a memory and then amplify it and blow it out of all proportion until what you are left with is a massively inflated copy of whatever the memory started out as.

“We don’t know for sure that everyone is dead.” Tasha offers without seeing how that, in no way, makes their situation any better.

Hector makes sure to point it out though as he says, “And that doesn’t worry you? Cause it sure as hell worries me that there might be members of the crew hiding somewhere, ready to jump out and savage another poor soul, like they did their Captain.”

The medic pauses for a second. Exactly a second and then continues, “And we saw what they were doing to themselves and each other. That’s why there is no question that if any of them are still alive then they’ll do that to us as well. So I for one, hope all members of the crew are dead.”

Tasha sees Hector’s point. She hadn’t thought about it like that. Now she wishes she hadn’t said anything because it’s all she can think about, even as Francesca attempts to placate her fears by assuring, “That’s not going to happen. All we’re going to do is secure the Namora. And once we do we’ll all feel a whole lot better cause we can get off this ship, attach the tow lines and then drag its heavy ass back to port for some Command officials to deal with the fallout.”

Hector mutters to himself about how he is in no way convinced about that happening and won’t be until his feet are firmly back on the Prowler and the umbilical between the starships severed.

In response to the medic’s muttering, Francesca hastens her step so that she catches up to and falls in step with the slightly ahead Tasha. It leaves Hector on his own a little ways back, maybe three steps, continuing to chunter to himself.

“What do you think his problem is?” Francesca asks in a hushed tone that forces her to lean in toward Tasha to avoid being heard.

Tasha simply shrugs confirming she hasn’t’ a clue, though her expression suggests that he might have a point. Francesca knows that he does but really doesn’t want to think about such things right now. Still, the junior security officer soon lets out a sigh and then admits, though she would prefer not to have to, “We can’t afford to panic. Not right now. We both know that.”

“I know. But…maybe we should take it easy on Hector. He’s scared. We all are.” Tasha says in response. She forces a smile across her face to try and cover her expression, which is a mixture of concern and unease.

It’s the bookend to the conversation and following it nothing else is said, between any of them. Instead, another awkward silence hangs in the air between them with the only sound audible being their heavy footsteps that thump over and over with every step they take.

Francesca manages five more steps prior and then having concluded that she should be more delicate in her choice of words, sighs, stops and then turns toward Hector.

But Hector isn’t there. He’s nowhere to be seen. He should be right behind them, trailing the two women by several paces at most, but he isn’t.

“Tasha.” Francesca calls fearfully right after. Her voice breaking as she attempts to get the attention of the auburn haired woman who had continued to trudge slowly toward their goal, an access opening near the aft of the ship.

Francesca doesn’t think she’ll get a reply. Something tells her she is alone now. She can’t say why other than it is a feeling, a haunting one, which she does not want to have to acknowledge as true. So when Tasha not long after asks, “What’s wrong?” Only to stop and turn to see for herself that Hector is gone. In that moment she understands why Francesca’s voice sounded grave. Not that it changes her query of, “How?”

“I…I don’t know, but he…he can’t have gone far.” The junior security officer manages after a couple of stumbling attempts to get her words out.

“Y-yeah, you’re right. Maybe he went back to the Prowler. After all, he…was really angling to get off this ship.” Tasha offers.

After all, the last thing they need is a member of their own crew going missing. This ship is creepy enough as it is without a new mystery being presented to them to solve.

“Maybe.” Francesca admits unconvinced. She had wondered the same thing herself, but for all his bluster and argumentative outbursts she thought that he would have at least said something if he was going to do that.

Still, there is one option available to them that she can try before they do decide to make their way back to the Prowler. That’s why Francesca reopens the comms link of her suits radio. A second passes and then all she is met with is the familiar sound of static over the line. Francesca’s head drops. It’s just as she feared.

Thankfully, Tasha remarks, “We should head back to the Prowler. See if he’s there. We can also regroup with Iain, and find out what’s going on with the comms.”

Francesca agrees without hesitation and by issuing a simple, swift quadruple nod.