"Well, it took you long enough." A gruff voice greets me the moment I step into the guardhouse. "I sent a request hours ago for someone to come fix this junk of a computer."
That's Frank. He's sitting by the monitoring station.
"Lazy, the whole lot of you," he continues, grumbling under his breath. "You and those day guards. Can't even show up for their shift on time."
Wait… What request? I never got any notification.
Don't tell me he forgot to hit the send button again. How many times have I told him—
Hold on. Did he just say the day shift didn't show up?
"What happened to the day guards?" I ask.
"They're late! Didn't you hear me?" Frank snaps back before launching into a rant about how things used to run better "back in his day," when people respected schedules and equipment didn't break every five minutes.
"Sorry about him," the other guard says.
I turn to see a young brunette in a neatly pressed security uniform that practically screams new recruit.
"He's usually not this bad," she explains with an apologetic smile.
What does she mean?. Frank's always this cranky. I think it's because he's so old.
"Name's Claire, by the way," she adds.
It seems it's just the two of them here. Then I guess she's the one who answered the intercom earlier.
Good thing, too. Frank probably would've leaned out the window and shouted across the lot.
That would have attracted… attention.
I glance toward the windows.
Outside the fence, a few figures stand in the distance.
Not moving.
Just… standing there.
I quickly look back inside.
"I'm Dax," I say. "Maintenance."
I hesitate for a moment.
"You… got any news on what's going on?"
"We're guards," Frank says with a shrug. "Nobody tells us anything." And Claire nods along.
"But you must've seen or heard something," I press.
"…What's this about, Dax?" Frank asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
Where to start?
I got attacked by a madman, the police won't answer calls, and there are people standing around like their brains switched off. Not to mention the whole thing about the locked docking gates and long-range communications being turned off.
I can't shake the feeling that something very, very bad is going to happen.
But… what if I'm wrong? What if I cause a panic for no reason?
Maybe I should just stay quiet.
Frank leans forward in his chair.
"Alright, alright," I give. "I'll tell you."
Space junk… How does he make simply leaning forward look so intimidating? It's like the old guy has some kind of retired-sergeant superpower.
So, against my better judgment, I tell them everything—about the man who attacked me, the police call that went nowhere, and the people outside just standing there with those empty, lifeless eyes.
"Bah! You get attacked once, and suddenly everything's a conspiracy," Frank scoffs, waving a dismissive hand.
"Then what about the police?" I shoot back.
To prove my point, I dial them again.
The same prerecorded message answers: All responders are currently indisposed.
Frank snorts.
"That's the problem with your generation. Lazy, the lot of you. Can't even pick up a phone," he grumbles. "Back in my day—"
I cut him off before the lecture can begin.
"Then explain why the docking gates are closed."
"The gates are closed?" he asks, finally giving me his full attention.
I nod.
Frank goes quiet.
For once, he doesn't have a comeback.
Because everyone on Liv-41 knows one thing: the station never closes its gates. No matter the crisis, no matter the danger, patients are always allowed in.
It's practically our motto.
Frank rolls his chair over to the monitoring console and pulls up the live surveillance feeds.
"What are you doing?" I ask, curious.
"Checking the parking lot," he replies.
The parking lot?
Oh. I get it! He's checking the spaces reserved for the doctors. Smart. If something serious were happening on the station, they'd be the first to move.
And… yeah. Something is definitely happening.
Half the parking spaces are empty.
"Is that one of those lifeless people you mentioned?" Claire cuts in, pointing at one of the screens.
We could see a man in pajamas standing in the middle of the lot, staring blankly into space.
I nod.
"Well, he's definitely not all there," Frank mutters. "Showing up to work in pajamas." He shakes his head in clear disapproval.
"Um… Frank," Claire says slowly, pointing at another monitor. "He's not alone."
We look and see a whole crowd of them—just standing there. Motionless. All with that same mindless posture.
Frank flips through the rest of the feeds.
Same thing everywhere.
Oh.
This is bad.
«Prepare for an all-out war!»
No. No, calm down.
We're behind a strong fence. Besides, they're unsettling, but they aren't dangerous…
I'm not buying that for a second. I still have this sickening feeling that the madman who attacked me earlier and these people are somehow connected.
"What are those idiots doing?" Frank suddenly growls.
Hey, I wasn't—
Oh. He's not talking about me.
On one of the screens, a nurse is helping a patient—some woman in a hospital gown—into the back seat of a car parked near the emergency entrance.
"They're being surrounded," Claire points out.
She's right.
A crowd is slowly gathering around the two.
When the nurse notices, she tries to wave them away.
"Oh no!" Claire suddenly shouts.
One of the figures lunges forward and slams into the nurse, tackling her to the ground.
Void.
It's exactly like the madman who attacked me earlier.
"We have to help them!" Claire blurts out.
«Kill those that threaten the civilians!»
What? No. It's not safe out there.
But Frank is already moving.
"They're at the east entrance!" he barks as he heads for the door.
Claire rushes after him, fumbling to pull her stun baton free from its holster.
And I just stand there for a second.
What am I supposed to do?
Lock the door and hide in the guardhouse? That's the only sensible thing—
«Fight!»
Ah, screw it.
Before my brain can argue with itself any further, I run after the guards.
What am I doing?
I don't even have a weapon.
«Everything's a weapon!»
This isn't even my job. I'm maintenance.
«Violence is our calling!»
Oh, this is such a bad idea… Yet I keep chasing after Frank, who's already through the gate, charging straight into the crowd of vacant-eyed people.
"Move!" he barks, shoving bodies aside as he pushes forward.
Stars above… The old man can move.
He reaches the nurse—who's still struggling with the attacker—before Claire and I even make it to the gate.
"Get off her!" Frank orders, raising his stun baton. The weapon crackles loudly.
The attacker doesn't even look at him.
Instead, he clamps his teeth down on the nurse's arm, biting deep.
"AAH!" the nurse screams.
That's enough for Frank.
He slams the stun baton into the man's side.
Sparks explode as two million volts surge through the attacker's body.
"GAAH!" the man howls.
The nurse seizes the moment, kicking the assailant off and scrambling to her feet.
"That black hole just bit me!" she shouts, clutching her arm.
Well… she's got a feisty spirit.
"Graa…"
Unfortunately, so does the attacker.
He's already pushing himself back up.
That shock should've kept him down for at least an hour. How is he already moving?
And worse—
The other blank-eyed people are closing in. Walking with an unsettling slow pace.
How can slow walking be so terrifying?
"Over here!" Claire shouts, shoving the dull-minded figures aside to open a path back to the gate.
Right. Now's not the time to ask questions. I need to help. To do something.
I grab a spare fuse from my pocket and chuck it at one of the people crowding around Claire.
It bounces off his shoulder like it was nothing.
«Pathetic!»
…Right.
I'll just keep the gate open.
Claire guides the nurse toward the gate, and the patient as well, who's clutching something tightly against her chest—something fairly large.
Why is she still holding onto that thing in the middle of all this chaos? Just toss it and run.
But she doesn't.
Must be something important.
"Come on!" I urge them.
Claire and the nurse make it past the gate. The patient is right behind them and—
Wait.
Frank.
Where's Frank?
I can't see him anymore. The crowd has swallowed him up.
Is he—
"Run!" Frank suddenly shouts, forcing his way through the mass of bodies like a bouncer clearing a path.
Thank the stars—he's okay.
But right behind him—
The madman.
Space junk… The guy just won't quit.
I grab the gate and start sliding it shut, even though the patient and Frank are still on the other side.
I'm not abandoning them. I'm just short. It will take time for me to move this big gate.
"Close the gate!" Frank shouts.
I'm trying! This thing's heavy.
Claire rushes over to help. Together we drag the gate across the track and manage to close it just as Frank and the patient slip through.
The madman slams into the steel bars seconds later.
The sound was violent. He must have broken something with that hit. Yet, he just keeps reaching through the bars, shaking the gate with disturbing strength.
That… is definitely not normal.
"Is everyone okay?" Frank asks.
"Everyone made it in one piece," Claire answers for the two women, who are still catching their breath.
"But we should get that looked at," she adds, glancing at the nurse's bleeding arm. "I think there's a first-aid kit back at the guardhouse."
Claire helps the nurse walk to the small shack. Frank and the hospital gown lady follow close behind.
I should probably—
"Grr…"
I glance back.
That madman is still at it.
«He's asking for a fight! Give him one he'll regret!»
And he attracted company.
A dozen or so of those blank-eyed people have gathered outside the fence now, standing silently near the gate.
«Kill them all!»
What do they even want?
Actually…
Why isn't the crazy guy attacking them? Why only us?
I take a moment to examine him. Now that I know he can't reach me—
"Gaa!" he snarls, jerking violently against the bars.
Okay.
Still terrifying.
But I force myself to look anyway.
His skin's pale—like, sickly pale—and his eyes are bloodshot red. Actually… the others seem to show the same signs.
Just… less extreme.
Could they all be—
Nope.
Nope, nope, nope.
"Wait for me!" I shout, quickly running after the others before my brain can finish that thought.
I manage to catch up with the others just as they enter the guardhouse.
Frank drops into his chair by the monitors. Claire helps the nurse settle into the other seat before hurrying off to the utility closet to look for the first-aid kit, while the patient quietly takes a spot in the corner, standing there like a nervous little animal.
As for me, I rush straight for my backpack, my mind spinning.
«Arm yourself!»
I open the bag.
«Build weapons!»
Pull out another blue pill.
«Fight! Kill! Slaughter!»
And swallow it dry.
Then I slip the bottle into one of my coverall pockets. I've got a feeling I'll need more soon.
Ugh. What a day this is turning into.
"Found the first-aid kit!" Claire announces as she emerges from the utility closet with a red bag.
She kneels beside the nurse and begins tending to the wound.
"I'm Claire, by the way," she says while working. "And that grumpy old man over there is Frank."
"Who are you calling old?" Frank shoots back.
So he's fine with being called grumpy?
"Yeah… hello. I'm Lilith," the nurse replies curtly.
Well… She's direct. Though, to be fair, she did just get bitten.
"I'm Dax." I say, giving a small wave—because, apparently, we're doing introductions now.
My eyes shift to the last person who hasn't spoken yet: the patient in the blue hospital gown and slippers.
Not exactly practical clothing for the situation we're in.
"I—I'm Mimi," she murmurs.
Still clutching to that thing—
Wait…
That's not a thing she's holding to her chest.
That is her chest.
By the stars… her boobs are huge! Easily the size of my head. And she's a pipsqueak—practically my height. How does someone so small end up so… stacked?
…Wait. Did I just indirectly call myself a pipsqueak?
Frank smacks the back of my head.
"Ow! What was that for?" I complain.
"You were staring," he says flatly.
No, I wasn't—
…Crap. I was.
I got lost in my own thoughts while my eyes stayed exactly where they shouldn't have.
"I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare," I say quickly, waving my hands in panic.
"It—it's fine," Mimi mutters. "I know they're… excessive. It's because I have giga tomatoes."
Giga tomatoes?
What does that even mean?
Besides, if I were to compare that bust to anything, it'd be some giga melons.
"She means gigantomastia," Lilith says, sounding more relaxed now that her arm has been bandaged.
"Giganto what now?" Frank echoes.
"Gigantomastia," I explain. "A benign medical condition that causes excessive breast growth. It can be linked to heightened tissue sensitivity to certain hormones and growth factors. The condition was first scientifically described in 1648—"
I keep talking until I notice everyone staring at me.
"What?" I ask. "I read."
"Okay… putting that weird trivia aside," Frank grumbles.
Hey. It's not weird trivia.
"What were you two doing out there?" he asks Lilith.
She hesitates.
Frank leans forward slightly, giving her that same intimidating look that makes it very hard not to answer.
"I was asked by Doctor William Malkovich to bring this patient to the main hospital unit," she finally says.
William Malkovich? That's one of the leading doctors on the station.
"Then why take your car?" Claire asks. "Isn't the patient transfer protocol to use an ambulance?"
Good question.
One Lilith clearly doesn't want to answer.
Frank narrows his eyes.
Oh boy, I would not like to be her.
"I—I couldn't use the usual means," she finally admits. "The main module is in lockdown."
It is?
That's news to me.
"When did that happen?" Frank asks.
"I got a memo about two days ago," Lilith says, apparently deciding there's no point in keeping secrets anymore.
Two days ago…
That's when the quarantine order was issued.
"Something about preventive measures for a new disease," she explains.
"Well, some bozo must've broken quarantine," Frank grumbles. "This generation… no respect for authority."
He thinks someone brought the disease over here?
I glance at the monitors.
They still show the growing crowd of… infected—because that's what they probably are.
There are too many of them. A simple person-to-person spread couldn't infect this many people this quickly.
So how did it spread?
And why aren't we infected?
It makes no sense… Unless—
"When was the last time any of you took a shower?" I suddenly ask.
Everyone stares at me like I just insulted them.
Which… in hindsight, I kind of did.
"N-no! That's not what I meant!" I say quickly. "I was… I mean—I got home late from work last night and went straight to bed without showering. Frank and Claire were on night duty, so you two didn't shower either, right?"
They slowly nod, beginning to follow my train of thought.
"I went to a party last night and didn't get around to it," Lilith adds.
"I—I just arrived here tonight," Mimi says quietly.
So none of us have showered in the last twenty-four hours.
"You think whatever's causing this is in the water?" Frank asks, glancing at the coffee cup by his desk.
"Not the drinking water," I say. "Each module has its own system for that. But the water used for showers…"
I hesitate.
"It's currently running through a shared flirtation system for both modules."
Then I quickly add:
"Until we get a replacement for the filter that broke down last week."
They all stare at me as the realization slowly sinks in.
Anyone who took a shower last night…
Infected.
That's more than half the entire station.
"What do we do?" Claire finally asks, her voice tight.
"There's nothing we can do but wait it out," Frank says. "I'm sure someone will come help us." He adds, mostly for Mimi's sake.
Yeah…
I hope he's right.
But what if no one comes?
I think of the long-range communications array.
Deliberately shut off by someone with high-level access.
Why would anyone shut it off during such a crisis? To isolate us?
No. No, that can't be right.
There has to be a reason for it.
The higher-ups wouldn't just abandon everyone on the station.
That would be… inhuman.
I'm sure it's just a precaution—so no uninformed ships get called over into whatever's happening here.
Right?
Yeah… They probably called for help just before disabling the comms.