ShipCore

USD: 1 Day after Cadre-S Graduation

Location: Van Biesbroeck’s star, Meltisar, MIL-1A Elevator, Tram Tunnel

The group of survivors had slowly spread apart as they moved down the lifeless tram line. It stretched in front of them forever, despite the distance they had already made between themselves and the rampancy.

Elis tightened her arms around Fred’s neck again as her arms burned, pulsing weakness. They had already traveled for at least six or seven kilometers down the darkened straight tunnel.

Some of them had been too wounded to maintain the pace and had been left behind when they couldn’t be carried any further. It was a callous and heartless display. The rampancy wasn’t traveling that fast, and she hated leaving people behind.

If she’d been at least able to communicate, she could have organized some stretchers or the like, but as it was, her only hope was to cling to Fred. As it was, she had to be thankful that she hadn’t been left behind as well.

A fearful thought pressed against her. The rampancy and damage was coming from the direction of the transit hub where Alex was supposed to be arriving. It wasn’t a massive leap to think that she might be hurt.

The feeling of being unable to do anything left her core feeling numb.

Explosions punched hot streams of air from wherever their destination had been, and Elis had the fear that one of those would carry the rampant nanites ahead of them and cut them off.

It was at least ten kilometers, at the minimum, between each stop. They’d almost been to the next station, and judging by how far they had come, they were at least two-thirds to the next one.

Fred staggered suddenly, and they almost came down in a heap, but he caught himself. Elis looked up at his face, covered in sweat that ran freely. Concern for his ability to keep carrying warred with her amazement at his endurance. The rest of the group was tired, and none of them had been able to carry anyone further than a kilometer.

It was only because of his extreme efforts that she wasn’t with the ones left behind.

She wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard to save her. They’d slowly lost ground and were now at the back of the group.

“Do you need to rest?” she tried to say, but it just came out a garble. It was the first time she tried to speak in a while, and he stopped to look at her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you behind.” Fred assured her.

Not being able to answer properly, she tightened her hold around his neck and did her best to hold still for him while he carried her. But her mind ran with the fact that he was a nurse, probably meant he had a lot of experience helping lift patients. Being a damsel in distress was not her kind of thing, but considering the circumstances she wasn’t going to protest.

Ahead, someone shouted, “Emergency Shelter Point!”

The main power being off left only emergency lights on, causing the shadows to hide the cubby hole until they were right up on it. The entire ragged group found spots inside the space to sit down and take a breath. Fred lowered her gently near a corner.

“Thank you.” Elis murmured.

Despite it sounding more like gibberish than words, Fred nodded. “No problem.”

Even though he had been the one carrying her, she felt exhausted and her arms burned and felt numb as she propped herself up against the wall to watch the others.

Fred and a few others that were in better shape went to the lockers and started to try to open them to get supplies.

A second set of emergency lights flared an angry red and begun to spin. A distant siren began to wail. One of the survivors jumped up. “That’s the I-field loss warning!”

The group trying to break into the emergency supply lockers redoubled their efforts. Why they were sealed shut if they were meant for an emergency baffled Elis.

Fred arrived with a length of metal and shoved it into the hinge of the steel cage, and pried it loose with a snap. Several medkits and rows of emergency breathing masks sent Elis’s stomach into a freefall. She didn’t have a skinsuit under her hospital gown, and it didn’t appear there were any available in the lockers.

Fred grabbed two masks and brought one to her and she put it on, anyway.

A few seconds later, a man began to shout. “There aren’t enough masks! Who took more than one! We have to share!”

He spun frantically, looking at the other survivors who pulled back from him. He only stopped when his glare landed on Elis.

“You! You don’t even have a skinsuit! You don’t need that mask. Give it to me!”

Elis pulled herself to sit up straight as he took a step forward, but Fred placed himself between them.

Fred held up a hand. “Relax, we can figure something out. It shouldn’t be hard to share a mask.”

Elis looked around for a weapon, but there wasn’t anything in reach. Sure enough, the frantic survivor wasn’t appeased and began raving. The man suddenly swung a fist toward Fred’s face.

Her nurse sidestepped, then perfectly executed two textbook jabs under the man’s chin, sending him sprawling backwards into the lockers. Threatening murder, the man jumped back on his feet and grabbed one of the medkit bags by its strap and swung it at Fred’s head.

It was knocked away, and the men continued to square off, but Elis’s attention was on the kit as it fell near her. Scrambling to pull herself over to it she pulled it open and grabbed the first sharp thing she could find, a pair of pointy scissors.

Turning back toward the fight, she found her effort was unneeded. Fred had the man on the ground, face and torso pressed against the ground while his arms were pinned behind his back.

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