Static

The further they went into the starboard connector, the fewer lights still functioned.

It had been several days since the overhead fixtures had dimmed to a sick, pulsing amber glow. The power reserve did all it could to maintain balance while several units were still sparking silently out in the cold dead space of the sealed off zone.

Rugged boots clacked repeatedly against the slatted steel plates of the deck while an array of light panels flickered weakly enough to make the shadows appear to move with every step. Pipes lined the narrow corridor walls in layered bundles, sweating condensation that glinted rhythmically whenever their flashlights passed over them. Beneath them, steady hums mixed with the groan of steel slowly straining from the Wayfarer’s damaged frame.

Rodgers walked forward with a tool case in one hand and a portable relay unit tucked beneath the other arm. A sour, downward curl to his lips forced his brow and nostrils to turn in their direction. Hughes stayed close beside him, glancing more often round him than ahead. His eyes followed in the trail of light as he moved the flashlight around to every darkened corner as they neared it.

Ward led several paces ahead of the two. The radio clipped against his hip crackled with the softest hiss of static.

“Why do we have to do this basically in the dark?” Rodgers muttered, swaying his head side to side as he grumbled.

“Because,” Hughes sighed without looking at his coworker, “that’s what we are trying to fix. The port side relay keeps desyncing from the main grip every forty minutes and Valdez said if we leave it like that much longer we’re liable to fry half of the damn exterior array.”

Rodgers exhaled sharply through his nose, “That still doesn’t explain why we gotta be the ones crossing into this side of the ship.”

“Keller and Petrov are watching syncing from Jeannie’s room while Valdez is running switches in Section D with Ngeyun and Jones. Malik is piloting while this repair is happening. And we can’t expect Ramani to be anywhere but Ibarra’s side. We are what’s left.”

The tallest one’s shoulders slump, almost dropping his load in the process but recovered before speaking again, “We couldn’t split it up better than this?”

“You two are the only ones that know how to install these relays that aren’t needed for more technical roles,” Ward answered this time, his voice solid, not allowing any room to argue. He turned on his heels and pointed his flashlight in their general direction. “Or at least you know, after all of the ones you have fixed so far.”

Rodgers opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it as the section of corridor Ward was standing in disappeared into darkness. All except his flashlight which he flicked up just in time to see the overheads slowly groan back to life.

They all paused, only the distant hum of the thrusters remained.

Before turning back to lead once more, Ward adjusted the radio on his hip and looked down the adjoining passage through starboard. A heavy emergency bulkhead blocked the corridor completely. Yellow hazard paint stripped its edges where the right connector had been sealed after the collision.

The split near the cargo spine. Whatever remained of the starboard connection to the cargo hull. No one liked looking at it for long.

Conditions beyond that steel was unknown at that moment, but out of an abundance of caution they had sealed it until they could reach that connector from the other side.

“You hearin’ me, Cap’n?” Petrov’s voice crackled faintly through the radio.

“Yeah.”

“You there yet?” The question was almost a grunt more than human language.

Ward glanced at Rodgers and Hughes behind him. “Give us a couple of minutes.”

“Hurry it up,” Petrov answered, causing all to hear to roll their eyes. Though Hughes was more amazed that Petrov felt comfortable enough to talk to any Captain, especially Ward, like that. “Valdez is ready on her side. Soon as relay sync comes online we’ll try pushing power through together.”

The transmission hissed, then returned to silence.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ward shook his head and reclipped the radio before moving again.

Ahead, they finally stopped beside an exposed relay junction recessed into the wall. One of the maintenance panels already hung half open, exposing bundled wiring and a scorched coupling unit inside.

“There,” Hughes muttered, “Told you. Ten minute fix.”

“Then let’s make it five,” Rodgers added quickly, moving fast to set up for the job.

Hughes crouched immediately beside the housing and began pulling tools from his case. Rodgers knelt opposite him, setting down the portable relay unit between them.

Ward remained standing nearby with radio ready and flashlight illuminating the panel as best he could just in case.

The stale air felt unusually warm here. Not hot. But still. Air recyclers might be malfunctioning is what Ward noted internally.

Though he couldn’t shake the feeling of humidity in the air, like too many people breathing heavily in a confined room.

He wiped sweat from the side of his face and keyed the transmitter. “We’re at the junction now.”

Static answer first, but then-

“Copy that!” Valdez’s voice burst through the static. “Petrov’s at the distribution node. Soon as they install the bypass we’ll cycle power manually.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rodgers grunted to answer as he tried loosening the burnt bolts with all of his weight, “We’re moving as fast as we can.” But Valdez wouldn’t have heard it from that distance even if Ward had clicked the answer button.

Metal clinked softly as the two of them worked in tandem. Like a well oiled machine, once one piece had been moved by one, the other jumped to the next item on their list.

“You think all this is just from the impact?” Hughes asked as he capped newly formed ties.

“Don’t even start that now,” Rodgers snapped as he hefted the large unit into its new home.

“It’s just so out of place and-”

The crackling of the radio cut through his words. It was Petrov this time, “You ready?”

“Almost done,” Ward replied, translating the miffed glances from both repairmen.

The second his finger left the answer button a sharp burst of static suddenly shrieked through the speaker hard enough to make all of them flinch.

“The hell?” Rodgers moved his shoulders down, the only thing he could use to protect his ears while his hands were keeping the heavy weight still.

Ward frowned down at the handset. Out of instinct, he forced the volume all the way down but the interference didn’t fade. It lingered on the display for a long moment before cutting out completely.

He waited a moment before turning the volume up again.

“-Ward?”

“Yeah, we hear you!” Ward loudly tried cutting through the static pouring over his answer. With awkward fingers he tried adjusting any knob he could to get a better signal.

“Go ahe– –ell the bo– to dis– –r a sec– –e need a –tter signal –ow first.” Petrov’s voice kept cutting in and out like a man trying to speak as waves kept crashing overhead.

“What?”

“He wants us to disconnect before powering on!” Hughes called back over his shoulder as he decoupled his wires waiting for a new signal.

“Just hurry,” Rodgers grunted, “This thing is getting heavy!”

Ward nodded in agreement but couldn’t figure out how Hughes could have caught the garbled message through all of the static. Instead he turned back to trying to tune in a better signal.

“–ello? Wa– –n you he–”

Ward couldn’t tell if that was Petrov or Valdez speaking. Possibly someone else using the walkie for them while they worked.

“Repeat!” Ward yelled into the receiver, “I can’t hear you!”

Once again the voice cut through briefly before dissolving beneath layers of distortion.

“What?” He called once more.

“I said it’s getting heavy!” Rodgers answered.

“Not you!”

“No other calls have come in yet, Captain?” Hughes turned to check on his leader.

But Ward wasn’t listening to them anymore. His eyes were focused on the display as it played the visual of random static. And something else.

The static shifted again. For a second it almost sounded rhythmic. Not mechanical. But something familiar.

Voices.

Too distant, too distorted to make out.

He raised the headset closer to his ear.

There was the harsh rush of digital agitation against his ear drum. Then came something else. Faint. Overlapping. Like several voices all over lapping somewhere very far away. Yet terribly close.

Ward’s brow tightened.

“...you hear that?” he asked quietly, eyes never moving from the screen.

“Hear what?” Rodgers asked incredulously.

Once again, the static swelled. They all went to cover their ears again.

Then–

Laughter.

Small. Brief. Childish.

Ward froze.

The sound vanished almost instantly beneath another wave of overpowering interference. His chest tightened hard enough to steal his breath. Sweat rolled down the side of his face despite the sudden chill in the air. His fingers tighten slowly around the radio.

The voices returned. Not just through the speaker. Somewhere deep inside.

Soft now. Muffled.

A child’s voice spoke somewhere beneath the static.

“–ddy?”

Too distorted to comprehend.

“When are y– coming –me?”

But it was clear enough for him to understand.

His stomach dropped. The corridor around him narrowed. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears.

Bang!

A loud crash of metal on metal brought Ward back onto the ship. Rodgers had slammed the housing’s cover shut.

“Got it!” he cheered triumphantly, letting his arms slack after carrying the weight for as long as he did.

The entire corridor jolted with a deep electrical hum. Overhead lights flickered violently once. Twice. Then stabilized into a steady amber glow.

At the same time the radio static vanished.

Petrov’s voice came through sharp and clean. “There we go. Power sync stable.”

“It was touch and go there for a minute,” Valdez chirped in as well, “but we got that fixed quickly.”

“Good work team,” Keller’s voice was heard this time, most likely taking over for Petrov as he finished his end of the job. “Hold there for a minute while we verify the load.”

“I don’t care what they say,” Rodgers shook his head, making haste to pack up his tools, “If they want more from this, they can come here themselves.”

Hughes seemed to be in silent agreement as he wasted no time tightening the holding bolts and returning his tools to his hip.

Ward remained motionless. The radio hanging loosely in his hand.

Gone.

All of it was gone.

Only the low mechanical hum of the ship remained now.

“All good,” Petrov’s voice echoed in the corridor through the radio, “return to Section C.”

Rodgers rose up tall, having his tool kit on his shoulder and almost halfway out of the corridor already. “Cool. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Hughes nodded immediately and followed.

Neither of them waited for Ward. They probably thought he was right on their heels, equally ready to leave the depths of the isolated sector.

“Captain?” Hughes called back over his shoulder once he had noticed they were one short.

The captain didn’t answer. His eyes had drifted further down the corridor, towards the sealed port side passageway.

Now that power had returned to this section, a distant overhead fixture beyond the intersection had come back to life as well. Weak with amber light spilling across the bulkhead door in uneven strips.

For the briefest of moments, Ward saw something there.

Motionless. Waiting.

Then the light steadied fully. The corridor was empty.

“Captain?” Hughes placed a hand on Ward’s shoulder. Finally, the Captain blinked and turned towards his subordinate.

“...Yeah,” he muttered.

Rodgers lifted his tool kit again, “Then come on. I don’t want to spend any more time here then I have to.”

The three men started back toward the central spine of the Wayfarer while the restored lights hummed weakly overhead.

Ward glanced back only once.