Malory entered the bridge cautiously, the command station blocking her view of most of the room. Gun clasped in both hands and pointing to the ceiling, she circled around the base of the command chair, legs bent at the knees and all her senses on high alert. The workstations were silent, the ship’s power having been redirected to conserve energy. The unusual silence added to the sense of unease that Faraday had voiced earlier. She paused, thinking she had heard a sudden, unidentifiable sound.
Stark paused in his progress through the leisure section, the dim lighting barely illuminating the large room. His eyes lingered on the bar. Christ he could do with a drink. A large mirror behind the bar reflected the scene impassively. The engineer held his gun tightly in his left hand, pointed forward in unpractised readiness. He proceeded through the darkened facility, every step sounding to him like the bang of a drum. He suddenly realised that it wasn’t his steps he could hear, but rather the beating of his heart. He paused a moment, a deep breath seemingly bringing his nerves under control. The next section held a much-used pool table, a dart board and a handful of plastic chairs mimicking the wooden ones of the past. His left hand rested on the cushion of the pool table, fake cigarette clenched between his teeth, eyes nervously darting from one dark corner to the next, wondering where the sudden noise had come from.
Waite fell backward, uncertain what had happened. Barely registering the shapes that had knocked him off his feet, he careered into the bulkhead opposite Faraday’s quarters. One dark shape, slowed by some unrecognisable burden, headed for the rear of the Wainwright and escape, while the other made more swiftly for the leisure area. Unable to see clearly, head spinning and nearing unconsciousness, he fired blindly.
The shot was a much more readily identifiable noise, and Malory spun around and ran in the direction of the sudden report, tripping over the step up to the command module, sprawling face first on the floor.
Stark also twisted toward the sound of the gunshot and added a yell of shock and horror to the soundtrack of the day’s tragic events. The creature before him swept through the room with a speed that seemed impossible. Its large clawed hands ripped through chairs and tables alike, as Stark fired a desperate, ill-prepared shot at the thing. The bullet thudded into the wall beside the only exit, at least a foot to the left of the monster’s shoulder. Stark fired a second shot which barely grazed its right arm as it was suddenly directly in front of him. The taloned right hand tore into the engineer’s stomach, his intestines almost immediately bursting through the large wound. He looked down, a puzzled expression changing to one of alarm. A strangled grunt escaped his throat as he futilely tried to grab at his guts. Stark fell to his knees and his teeth finally relinquished their grip on the omnipresent electronic cigarette, which skittered across the floor. A merciful unconsciousness grasped his mind and he remained