Pick waited in the airlock between the two ships, sweat running down his face. The suit he wore smelled like body odor, and the fabric was so worn in places that he could feel the protective outer covering of the suit. Hopefully, Gage and Rex would tell them it would be okay to at least take off the helmet. The bulky suit made him feel slow, and out of place in his own body.
Wrench, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered by the suit or the prospect of entering a derelict ship. The older man chewed on a piece of jerky while his helmet lay forgotten on the deck at his feet.
“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Pick asked.
Wrench shrugged, “Engine parts, tools, bodies, anything that might be of value.”
“Bodies?” Pick asked, his voice slightly shrill.
“Dah,” the man responded, “Rations only go so far. If the ship was breached the bodies would be preserved. If you season it right, a spaced body tastes pretty good.”
Pick’s eyes widened, and he had to suppress the urge to vomit. Once he saw the laughter in the other man’s eyes he caught onto the joke.
“Funny,” he droned, turning back to the door.
“You have to find humor where you can,” the man said.
“Pretty dark sense of humor,” Pick shot back.
Wrench smiled and waved his jerky at Pick, “Dark humor is like food. Not everyone gets it.”
The tinny voice of Gage came over the comms, “Entry to the ship is clear. No sign of life. Atmosphere is nonexistent, so keep your suits on. We’re heading to the bridge to see what we can find.”
Wrench activated the throat comm and said, “Got it. We go to the engine room and report what we find.”
He finished his jerky and put the helmet in place, locking it down before turning to Pick, “You going to stand there, or open the door?”
Pick punched the button and braced himself as the door hissed open. Before them, a dark corridor was revealed, stretching out into nothingness.
He felt Wrench push him slightly from behind, prompting Pick to move forward and into the other ship. Stepping onto the derelict ship felt like crossing into a grave, the silence so thick that Pick could almost hear his heartbeat echoing back to him.
As Pick and Wrench made their way down the corridor, their footsteps clanged against the metal floor, echoing into the void ahead. The derelict ship felt unnaturally still.
Pick glanced at the walls, the beam of his light creating eerie elongated shadows. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears against the silence of the corridor, and his sweat had turned cold as he walked through the ship.
Wrench tapped his arm and nodded forward. "Engine room's just ahead. Stay sharp."
Pick swallowed hard, trying to push down the growing unease creeping up his spine. As they reached the door to the engine room, a faint, rhythmic noise echoed from deeper within the ship.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Do you hear that?" Pick whispered.
Wrench paused, cocking his head to listen. After a moment, he gave Pick a curious look. "Hear what?"
Pick’s breath caught in his throat, and he stared at the dark expanse behind them.
"Never mind," he muttered. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. Either that or the ship wasn’t as empty as they thought.
To be continued…
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