The air on the star-ship’s bridge was far colder than it should have been, Captain Evan Simmons noted as he stepped through the doorway. Through the small windows, he could see into the blackness of space, where the ship had been reported drifting. It was a relatively small, privately owned cargo vessel. His own ship – a military class cruiser - was behind this one, attached at the air-lock.
About three hours ago, there had been a call to Outpost 78 near the border. The call was from an anonymous private vessel reporting another unidentified vessel with no detected power or life-signs near the Outpost’s patrol range. The Captain’s patrol vessel has been stopped there for a re-stock at the time, and had responded to the call. Now, here Simmons was, with one question on his mind: Where was the crew?
The vessel had no power, which resulted in the freezing temperatures and dark consoles Simmons discovered as he led a team onto the bridge. Whether the power had been turned off or it had run out was yet to be determined. He had sent a second team to the engine room to investigate, and hoped to have an answer soon.
His radio crackled, but all he heard was static.
“Lieutenant Rigdon? Can you hear me? Repeat your message.” Simmons replied into his own radio.
Static crackled again, and Simmons could tell someone was trying to say something, but he couldn’t hear the message through the interference. He shook his head, and turned to his team. “Do a quick sweep of the bridge, and we’ll go meet up with them,” he instructed.
His team nodded, and began to fan out over the bridge. Shining his light over the cold room, he started forward, toward the command console. He attempted to turn it on, not knowing whether or not his other team had restored power. Apparently they hadn’t; at least not to the bridge.
Simmons noticed a small door off to the corner of the bridge. He moved to it, recognizing it as a storage closet. His hope was that its contents would reveal some clue about what had happened to the crew of the ship.
A small noise came from behind the closet. Captain Simmons stopped, giving the door a curious glance. He drew his pistol, aiming it at the door. With one swift motion, he flung the door open. His eyes widened suddenly, and he took a slight step back.
A young child sat huddled in the corner, shivering violently. She was cold, but looked otherwise unharmed.
Simmons lowered his pistol, and knelt down. “It’s okay,” he assured her, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The girl nodded slowly, still shivering. Simmons removed his coat, and offered it to the girl. She took it, wrapping the large, heavy coat around her thin, small frame.
Clenching his teeth to fend off the cold, Simmons offered a hand to the girl. “Come with me, I’ll take you somewhere safe and warm.”
The girl looked up with longing eyes, and nodded again after a moment. She took the Captain’s hand, and slowly came out of the small storage room. Simmons noted that the room was void of supplies.
Simmons carried the girl back to the bridge entrance, telling his team to get to the engine room and get the other team to remain there until he returned. He then took the girl to the air-lock, and passed through it onto his own vessel. He had left behind three of his crew to maintain the ship and to keep a lookout.
Lieutenant James Emmerson met him as he entered, saluting him. Seeing the young girl, he immediately left to get supplies.
Simmons set the girl down on a chair. She looked up at him with her blue eyes.
“Do you speak?” Simmons asked.
The girl nodded, but said nothing.
“Where are your parents? Were they on that ship?”
The girl continued to nod silently.
“Would you be able to take me to them?”
The girl stopped, suddenly looking afraid. Emmerson had entered the room with a blanket. He offered it to the girl, who took it with a nod of thanks.
Simmons tried again. “Please, can you take me to your parents?”
After a moment with no response, Simmons attempted a new approach. “Can you tell me your name?” He asked.
The girl opened her mouth slowly. “S-Stella.” She said, still shivering.
Progress. “What happened?” Simmons continued in a gentle tone.
The girl shook her head, closing her eyes tight.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now, do you understand?”
“Mm-hmm.” Stella whispered.
Simmons sighed. “I need to get back on the ship. Will you come with me and show me where to go?”
The girl looked at him hesitantly.
“Please?” Simmons added.
The girl nodded, looking around the ship warily.
Simmons motioned for Emmerson to follow. He then picked the girl up, and carried her slowly back to her ship. After he passed through the air-lock, he stopped.
“Which way are your parents?” Simmons asked Stella. She pointed to a door at the left.
Simmons waited as Emmerson had to pry open the door with a crow-bar. There was a dark, empty hallway behind it. Stella turned her head away from the hall slightly, burying her head into the captain’s shoulder.
“It’s alright.” He reassured her.
Simmons and Emmerson walked slowly through the hall, shining a light over every door. They passed some of the passenger’s quarters and a few other rooms when Stella looked up suddenly.
“What am I looking for, Stella?” Simmons asked.
Stella paused for a moment. “Sick…sick bay.” She whispered back finally.
Simmons nodded, and they continued. The sick bay was a few doors down. It too had to be pried open. Stepping through the doorway, Simmons shuddered. It was even colder in here than it had been on the bridge. He felt Stella shivering against his own body. He set Stella down on the counter, wrapping her tightly in the blanket, and told her to wait. Taking his own light, he began to search the room.
There was a single exam table in the center of the room, and counter lined two of the walls. There were a few odd tools on the counter, but nothing that appeared out of the ordinary.
“Captain!” Emmerson called.
Simmons turned to see what the other man had discovered. Emmerson was busy prying open another door labeled “Recovery”. When the door was open, Simmons shone his light into the room. There were four beds lined against the walls, resembling a small hospital ward. Simmons noted that the bed farthest away was occupied. Motioning for Emmerson to stay where he was, Simmons moved forward slowly.
The occupant of the bed was obviously dead. His open eyes were glazed over and lifeless, and he had no pulse or breath. There seemed to be traces of blood near the corners of his mouth, but there was nothing else on his face that revealed any cause of death. Simmons moved the thin, white sheet down to reveal the dead man’s neck and shoulders. A marking in the shape of a clawed hand was on the man’s neck, bloody and raw.
Simmons swore quietly under his breath. He moved around to the other side of the bed, feeling sick. What he saw confirmed the dreaded suspicions in his gut. The medic was lying on the floor, a bleeding hand print on his face.
“Emmerson!” Simmons called, turning to leave the recovery hall. He heard the Lieutenant give a startled cry, and he broke into a run. As he rounded the corner into the main portion of sick bay, he spotted Stella sitting on the counter still, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, and her head down. She looked as if she were merely tired, but Simmons had a feeling that there was more to it than the child’s sheer exhaustion.
“Stella,” Simmons whispered, slowly approaching Stella.
Stella looked up, recognizing the Captain’s voice.
“Stella,” Simmons said again, “what happened? Where’s Emmerson?”
The young girl’s eyes grew wide, and she pointed behind where Simmons stood.
Simmons spun around in time to see a cloaked figure approaching him. The figure’s face was obscured by a black hood, but Simmons knew what it was. The black-clad figure reached out a hand, skeletal and white, grabbing at the air with vicious claws.
Worried about the girl, Simmons turned his head toward Stella. To his surprise, the girl was smiling wickedly, and the captain noticed something he had not before. Her skin was exceptionally pale. Perhaps his mind had earlier blamed it on the cold, but now there was a gnawing doubt in his mind that said this girl wasn’t who she claimed to be.
Stella reached out a hand, ghastly and white. Her fingers were long and bony, with sharp claws extended. “I’m scared,” she whispered innocently, resuming her frightened look.
Simmons ignored the child, and turned his attention back to the large cloaked figure that was getting steadily closer. Suddenly, Simmons felt something sharp digging into the base of his neck. His vision faded to a blur, and he saw the cloaked figure looking down at him as he fell to his knees.
Before his vision faded entirely, Simmons cast one more look up at the figure, and he saw its face. Black, empty eye sockets seemed to stare right into his soul, while a wicked grin was permanently set into a skeletal face: a face of death.
Simmons began to wonder what the afterlife was like as the world around him faded into darkness, swallowing him entirely.