WARNING ATMOSPHERIC BREACH WARNING ATMOSPHERIC BREACH

     Spinning lights coalesced out of the gloom, making it hard for my eyes to focus on shapes. I was annoyed before the meaning of the flashing red doused my mood with cold, sober fear. There was a hole in the hull and our precious air was being replaced by void.

     Acting on instinct, I moved out of the corner I'd floated to and looked around. The explosion had left the lab in disarray. My companion hung limp among the remnants of his latest experiment, test tubes and sprouts bouncing off his immobile form. David's eyes were flat and unfocused below the tumorous blob of blood stuck to his forehead, slowly undulating and deforming.

     There wasn't time for my dead friend. I pushed past David's corpse, frantically wiping away tears that clung to my eyes, to get to the lab computer. On the screen was a log of everything that had gone wrong. I scanned the text that started after the power surge, finger to the screen as I looked for the exact location of the damage. It was the sleeping hab, of course it was. All of our stuff. I shook my head to clear more tears, both hands busy sealing off access to the retainers I'd been wearing diligently since highschool.

     As the pressure returned to normal, the alarm quieted so now all I could hear was the sound of my own labored breathing. I needed to open a line to ground control but my brain wasn't working correctly and the woosh of air through my mouth pulsed chaotically in time with the still flashing lights. It made reading and typing painful even as I held my breath to stop the letters moving. I was slow but finally I hit enter and closed my eyes as I waited to hear the sound of a voice from Earth. I imagined the urgency of the response when I explained my situation.

     Silence.

     When I opened my eyes, the computer showed me the connection had been immediately dropped. Before I could catastrophize, I had to get to the cockpit in hopes it worked from there. I looked up and the walls contracted and receded around me, making my heart skip a beat. Everything was a blur as I pulled myself through the station until I hovered in the copilot seat. My hands moved over familiar controls so information crowded the screen in front of me. When I checked our positioning we had shifted in our orbit but we still clung to the Earth like a tick. I had to control the urge to set the autopilot to correcting our course, noting our low and fluctuating power.

     We needed support from below. All communication systems were nominal and ground control was within range. The line was open.

     "Houston, this is Ashanti Owens with station Lunatus. Request emergency support. David Merle is dead."

     I waited with held breath as silence added miles between me and the rest of my species. Hands vibrating, I repeated myself then listened. I'd forgetten the rest of my body and my heel struck the ceiling. I jumped, instinctually gripping the panel beneath me so I could regain control over myself. We'd never been cut off like this before.

     "Isaac?" I ventured, "Jay? Rachel?" I couldn't breathe and felt like vomiting. "Anyone there?"

     The lights flashed a final time then stayed on. I blinked and looked up, still bathed in red but relieved it was steady. I looked down and I wasn't in the cockpit anymore. I must have passed out and drifted. How long had it been? Fingers grasping for handholds, I tried to orient myself within the station. A strange dark shred slipped past my vision and I looked in its direction. A sprout.

     My heart sunk. I wasn't ready to confront my friend's corpse again so soon. There he was, where I had left him with glass shards shimmering around his limbs. It was a small grace that his face was turned away as he had slowly rotated and floated into the ceiling. My throat was tight at the sight of David. I had to deal with him before this concussion rendered me useless. He couldn't be allowed to rot in the station but I had to bring him home.

     Zero gravity made David weightless but that didn't mean getting him to the airlock was easy. Touching his clammy skin nearly sent me into discomfited convulsions, making it a feat of mental strength to navigate him between rooms. As I opened the first airlock door, whining filled my ears and I wasn't sure if it was me or the ship.

     Cramped into the small space between doors, I reached between David and the wall for a tether. I wouldn't be able to get him into a space suit so I settled on looping the tether through his clothes and tight around his torso. When my arm grazed the coolness of the his chest, my eyes filled with tears. I was hiccupping by the time I was confident the body was bound well.

     David was alone as I shut the first door, sealing him between here and there. "I'll get you home," I promised him, "just hang on and don't worry."

     I tapped the window between us then gripped tight the end of the canvas tether. Before I could lose my nerve, I opened the outer door. The bound body slowly made its own way into space. When I was sure he was clear of the airlock, I snapped it shut. With the tether trapped between two sets of doors, I could see David was held right beyond the window. The light of the station caught the tight curls of his cropped hair.

     It was time to work before my brain malfunctioned again. Returning to the cockpit, I froze in the doorway. There was evidence I hadn't passed out after all. The paneling around the room had been removed to reveal the circuitry within the walls. The base of the computer was also open and modifications had been made. There were additional parts wired into the existing infrastructure. I pulled myself over to get a close look, hoping my amnesiac self hadn't butchered it.

     Under the red light it was hard to tell but the work looked sound. There was extra RAM pressed into more slots than I remembered and at least two additional power supplies. The only way to tell if it worked was to boot the computer, which I imagined would end in a short at best. I had to put it back the way it was.

     Across the room, looking for a flashlight, I was too far away to react when the blue light of the console screen came to life. Panicked, I shoved myself into space to smash the power switch. The damn thing had been restarting. My fingers were on the button but I hesitated. Familiar green text on black greeted me, declaring the computer was up and running as normal.

     Blinking back racing thoughts, I settled in front of the screen, hands to the keyboard. I brought up a log of what had been done since the last reboot and read the list for discrepancies. There were my calls, though I couldn't tell if the number of connections and disconnections were correct. The only thing that stuck out was a single short connection that ended at the same moment the reboot was initiated. It looked too intentional to be the result of a brain damaged blackout.

     Forcing myself from unhelpful speculations, I opened our communication channels and began to scan for connections. All I wanted was a human voice capable of getting my words to ground control.

     "Station Lunatus requests emergency support."

     This was my mantra as I switched frequencies, listening briefly for a break in the static before continuing to the next. I was losing space before the numbers rolled back to the beginning when a sound broke the white noise. It wasn't a voice but a click and a buzz like an old CRT television powering up.

     "This is Station Lunatus! Mayday! Mayday!" I spoke breathlessly, trying not to yell and overwhelm the mic. I listened, listened so hard I feared a sound would rupture my tense ear drums.

     Face dropping, chin threatening to quiver, I stared at the screen, waiting. Silence reigned. But there had been a sound, I was sure. I recorded the frequency then checked the positioning of the antenna so I could focus in on that point on Earth. I triple checked the coordinates when the numbers made no sense. It was pointed into the blackness of space. Of course the line had remained silent. The sound I'd heard must have been background radiation or planetary interference. I would have to turn the dish around and try again.

     Eyes down typing, it was a chill that made me pause to look up. The screen had changed. I think I experienced another glitch and I could no longer blame a concussion. In my blackouts I knew how to do things I shouldn't. I didn't recognize the text filling the screen, unintelligible rows of characters in intentional configurations. The longer I stared the more it looked like code.

     There was something else subtle, increasing numbers in the corner of the screen. 61 63 64 68... It was the familiar progress of a program's installation or execution. I hit escape to no effect, the usual commands to abort the process also failed. I kept trying to stop the program that was loading but all I managed to do was raise my heart rate as it got closer to completion.

     In the end, I waited with dread for 100 to appear. The screen went black for a moment then returned with sets of numbers increasing and decreasing in a wave. Between numbers were unreadable words. I reached for the power but the button I needed was no longer there. In its place was a thick cord made of hundreds of wires. Some snaked through the space left by the missing switch as others spilled over the console onto the floor beneath the screen.

     Abandoning sense, I pulled myself down and started ripping at the wire. Up close the layers were like a muscle and when I brushed fingers against them I swore they contracted. Fear renewed, I was resolute in setting this right before my connection home was lost. Fingers shoved between layers of metal, my eyes drifted, tickling on the back of my neck. The presence of my second self hung over my shoulders with the threat of a switch.

     Progress removing the cable was non-existent. My arms were weak with over exertion and every time I pulled at a handful of wire my vision swam. After painfully straining a shoulder, I gave up and went back to the keyboard. Some commands were still working so I managed to pull up a list of current and ongoing processes. The stock coms were running in a loop, on and off, sending a small piece of data. I couldn't see what was sent but I could see the location.

     Deep space.

     I shook my head, dismissing an idea that was as ridiculous as it was terrifying. Still, little gray fingers slid along the edges of my mind as I left the main computer in hopes the lab's PC was intact. I faced the open void that had been at my back this whole time and froze. The lights were out. This gave me the brief and vivid sensation of being locked in a tin can at the bottom of an ocean trench.

     The red of the cockpit was too low to illuminate anything outside the door so all I saw was black. What had I done? Sparing a second to turn my back on the darkness, I slipped a flashlight free of its home on the far wall. I turned it on before I left the room, casting light ahead of me to keep the pitch depths at bay.

     I wasn't getting into the lab. Debris filled the air just outside the closed door. There were shredded wires, miscellaneous shapes of metal, and the large obvious rectangles of instrument paneling. Afraid of injury, I hovered inside the doorway and squinted at the lab's control pad. The LED display that glowed perpetually was dead.

     Fingers numb, I struggled to turn myself around and return to the computer. I dropped the flashlight to type new commands, batting it away when it got in my way so it clattered against the ceiling. The station was still functioning as before so far as the computer was concerned. Our power usage was the same, the hull was stable, and our air was plentiful. The power outages had been on purpose. Life support had been shut off in the sealed off habs while the airlock and the cockpit were still online. When I checked the actual power, life support barely made a dent toward total usage. My eyes drifted to the tentacles of wires. Something needed a lot of energy.

     A pain pierced the center of my skull and my eyes clenched shut, mouth open wide with dreadful surprise. I learned forward, hands coming to my forehead to rip out my hair- Something clunked against the glass of my head and I looked to see what it was. Bright white blue spread out below me, shifting and spinning before my watering eyes. Slowly, the blue moved to reveal green and brown and finally the black of an edge. Just as I realized where I was, vertigo clenched my gut so hard I was afraid my ribs would crack from the effort. My stomach had prepared for proper vomit but a string of bile was all I had to expel. It made a bleary mess of my visor when I spit it away.

     Buzzing with concentration through a building migraine, I carefully checked my EVA suit. There were protocols in place to ensure safe space walks but had my other self remembered them? Running through a checklist of my safety gear, I felt around for my umbilical and my tether. It was hard to feel through bulky gloves but I recognized the bump of objects against them. The usual backups I placed when working were missing and so was my umbilical. Anxiety rising, I finished feeling around my waist. Did I miss something? I checked behind my hip again and felt a familiar catch. Fingers grasping the tether, I pulled and found resistance at the other end. I was finally safe to move my body and pulled myself in fast so I could cling to hand holds on the satellite.

     Despite my misfiring brain, my training kept me calm. Hyperventilating was deadly alone and, if I could help it, I wasn't going to blackout again. Moving slow so my momentum wouldn't pull my body out of control, I looked around to orient myself. Through watering eyes and spit smeared visor, it was hard to see more than light and shadow. It wasn't until I looked directly above me that I knew where I was. Glinting around the edges with new shapes was our main radio dish. The bowl at top was bright against black space and, below, its pole had grown misshapen with swirling metal. I had been at work.

     I dropped my eyes from the evidence of my second self to focus on staying alive. For once I was grateful I had so much experience repairing our solar panels. I navigated the handholds with ease and within minutes I was pulling myself into the airlock. It took all of my control not to hammer at the inner door button. I had to wait, shivering, while the door closed and the pressure equalized. When the interior door finally opened, I shoved myself into the dark station, shedding my helmet and my gloves.

     Shoulders slouching with relief, my eyes lifted to the empty airlock. I glanced at the outer door and hitched a breath. David wasn't there. It had just happened, I reasoned, he had slipped free when I came in. I rushed to the window to look out but there was no sign of the body or its white lifeline. I glanced down, touching the tether still attached to me, then looked to the wall to find the other two missing. If the computer would let me, I had to check the cameras and find him. They didn't record locally but a live view was enough.

     Free of the bulky suit, I pulled myself to the cockpit. The scene had changed again. The walls, floor, and ceiling were stripped to the bone so wires could fill the space. They emerged from the empty places where switches, plugs, and screens had been. Organized chaos all converged to meet at one point: the computer. The screen showed ongoing processes. Getting close enough to read the small text, a pattern made itself obvious. The comms were still cycling but so was the power, peaking at the same moment. I stared, counting between the peaks. A couple minutes passed only to confirm my suspicion. The wave was speeding up.

     What could I do? I had to find David so I typed. To my surprise, the black and white grid of camera feeds popped onto my screen. I scanned them, so familiar with the usual alignment of pixels that anything amiss would stick out. Immediately my eyes were drawn to an exterior view of the station. The camera was positioned to capture one of the massive solar panels arrays. Now there were two giant shining grids within frame, streamers of canvas clear where the floating array was attached to the stationary one. Only half the ship was currently in sunlight and the panel had been moved to catch the radiation.

     All of my adrenaline and dread coalesced in my chest as a decision. David was gone, the distinct starfish shape of a human body was absent from every frame. If there was nothing left I could do, I would survive as long as possible. Snatching the flashlight out of the air where I had left it drifting, I exited the cockpit. I needed a spacesuit, air, and water. My head spun as I approached the still open airlock where the suit hovered in pieces. Reaching for the doorway, my vision crossed. I tried to grab for the plastic jamb but my hand moved of its own accord, veering off course. My fingers opened to grasp at the blackness behind me and reality slipped.

     I surfaced through a puddle of blood. Iron filled my mouth and my nose and when I blinked it was red. I blinked again, confused by the sensation. Something was in the way of my eyelids, but it didn't hurt. As I reached up I could have guessed what I would find. Wire.

     Careful not to pull anything, I felt up the neatly formed bundles to where they interacted with flesh. There was one through each tear duct, pushing the eye aside so I maintained marginal vision. The wires existed as a shadow in the corner of each eye, impossible to look at directly.

     A spasm gripped my entire body, locking my limbs in place. The involuntary movement made me aware of a familiar pressure, I was strapped in tight to the command chair. When control was returned to my muscles I continued my search for the wire, wanting to free myself. My fingers found more stiff cables through each nostril, nearly filling the space. I could just suck air around them and it stunk of blood. I was too scared to move my head so all I could see was that more wire snaked beneath my hands.

     I moved to feel the wire in my chest when another seizure froze me. This one was more violent, explosions filling my head as it snapped back. Lights danced to the sound of whispered nonsense and firework bangs. It was a mercy that it ended quickly. Groaning, I came back to myself and spared no time spider crawling my fingers up braided metal strands.

     Where they ended above my left breast the skin was hot and slick. The incision the wire had been fed through was small so there was little movement. And yet every time my heart beat in my ears, fresh hot blood seeped through the wound to cover my hands. I pressed tight to my chest to staunch the bleeding while my eyes rolled around the room for an answer.

     My gaze lingered on the computer screen, blazing green in front of me. The process log was up and a familiar pattern scrolled past. I watched the peak of the next wave approach and then I was blind. The jolt of electricity sent through my heart and brain almost knocked me out, I could feel myself begin to slip when it ended. Desperate, I clawed at the wire in my face, finding purchase where I could. I yanked hard, pausing only when gunshots erupted in my head and then deciding I didn't care about the damage. If I was going to die up here alone, it wasn't going to be because I'd turned myself into a battery.

     The pattern was running in my peripheral so I had time to glance down before the next peak hit. This shock was short and extreme, body reacting so violently I felt scraping and pulling deep in my sinuses. Blood flowed and gathered against my face in a glob, first blocking my eyes then my nose. The cycle was speeding up. The next shock left my body limp and unmoving but not my mind. I was conscious enough to register when an alien voice filled the room. Conscious enough to panic when blood covered my mouth. Conscious enough to realize I was drowning myself.

     An endless seizure held me fast as the lights went out, the only illumination coming from the sickly green of the computer. The wave was still surging on, so fast the text on screen was a blur. Lungs burning, I ran out of breath and sucked in the red mass waiting to saturate every air-loving cell in my body. This was it, I could feel it, I was dying. The station sang in agreement, a cacophonous whirring rising from every wire in the room as the power grew moment by moment. Rattling and moaning of metal joined the chorus as the ship began to shake. The alien voice rose above it all. My last thought was of drowned captains and whether they witnessed secrets of the depths when their hull met bottom.