Page 10 of New World

The voice was distant but steady. A soft, insistent whisper against the abyss pulling her under. She recognized it—Li Wang, the MIT student she had been working with back on Earth.

“Computer readings indicate the air is suitable for humans. Gravity is within the range of normal human function. Caution is needed. You have been in stasis for ten days, eight hours, forty-three minutes.”

“Computer, l-location,” she requested, her throat dry.

“Location unknown,” Li replied.

“Computer, location of the Gliese,” she asked, reaching out and gripping the edge of the escape pod to pull herself up into a sitting position.

“Location unknown,” Li answered.

Mei breathed in deeply, testing the oxygen while her eyes scanned the room. The smell of rust, decay, oil, and several unidentifiable, foreign things overwhelmed her after nearly two years of purified oxygen. The scent felt lived-in. The air was thick, almost clogging her lungs with the taste of corrosion.

After nothing came to investigate, her fingers twitched as she slowly pushed the heavy lid of the pod upward to open it further. It moved stiffly. She winced at the sound of metal against metal when the resistance suddenly disappeared and the lid crashed against the backside of the pod. Her eyes flew around the room.

It seemed empty of anyone—or anything—who would react to the noise, but the room was massive, cavernous, and the only light came from above the dirty, dented double doors, a sickly green glow that cast more shadows than light. Damaged and neglected machines, twisted beams, shattered hull plating, old cryo-chambers, broken satellites, and more were all stacked in uneven mounds, covered in layers of grime, rust, and unidentifiable filth.

Mei lifted a hand to her head. The dull, aching weight in her skull pulsed, radiating down her spine, spreading through her limbs like the aftershock of trauma.

She was weak, and for a moment, she remained motionless, gathering her thoughts. Something had gone terribly wrong. The last thing she remembered?—

The explosion. The Gliese breaking apart. The cold emptiness of space swallowing everything before the sedative in the pod kicked in, reducing her heart rate.

She unzipped her jacket and ran her fingers under the edge of her shirt, along her collarbone, to the nutrition patch she had placed there before she lost consciousness, but the thought of its potential usefulness and the unknown duration of her survival in the unfamiliar place made her pause before pulling it free. A shuddering breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding a rapid rhythm against her chest as the full horror of her situation dawned on her.

She caught herself before panic could take root. Emotions would not save her. Survival was all that mattered.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright. The escape pod’s interior was small and cramped, its curved walls lined with survival compartments.

She inhaled slowly and waited until she could sit up straight without holding onto the pod. Her eyes scanned the dingy, cluttered room. The doors would slide open instead of swinging in or out on hinges. She would have to remember that.

Peering through the window that ran along the top of the pod, she noticed a small, grime-covered viewport. Unfortunately, it offered little but shadows and metal, a confirmation that she was still in space. Someone—or something—had collected her. She needed to find out who.

A low hum vibrated beneath the escape pod, telling her that the ship was functioning in some capacity beyond the basics necessary for life. Mei inhaled deeply, centering herself. Her training demanded she assess, adapt, and act.

She was not safe here.

Her body protested as she half-rolled, half-stepped over the edge, gripping it when her knees gave out. She leaned forward, muscles stiff, weak from the time she had been unconscious. That weakness wouldn’t last. She wouldn’t allow it.

Her mind slowly cleared, helped by the chill in the air. Muscle memory from years of training took hold; every action precise, efficient, focused solely on survival. Each second felt like an eternity as she listened for any sound that would signal someone’s approach. From the extensiveness of the disarray around her and the space dust covering the items, she concluded the items were not likely to be attended closely. Still, she needed to make sure she had removed everything she needed before anyone appeared.

She reached back into the pod and pulled out the standard survival gear that had been packed by the Project Gliese’s team before she pulled a Ka-Bar USMC combat knife from a slot in the wall. Running the tip along the liner, she slit the silky material, revealing a cache of additional gear not on the scientists’ lists. It had been tricky getting the added weight onboard the Gliese. She wouldn’t have been able to if not for the extra mission into space during the building process that her father had arranged.

Mei ran her fingers along the hilt of her katana, the familiar weight grounding her. It was one of many weapons she had trained with—one of many she would use if necessary.

She glanced toward the viewport on the far side of the storage bay. Through the grime-smeared glass, the vast emptiness of deep space stretched beyond the freighter’s battered hull.

A sharp exhale left her lips. She might be lost, but she wasn’t dead. And yet, she was alone. That was what hit the hardest.

Mei pushed away the flash of grief at the thought of losing Sergi, Julia, Ash, and Josh. She stepped out of her weighted boots and stripped out of the standard-issued uniform worn by the crew of the Gliese, keeping on her black cotton t-shirt and matching black boy-shorts. She tossed the uniform and boots into the pod, then pulled on her replacement gear: a pair of black thick socks, black cargo pants, black soft leather combat boots, a black form-fitting jacket with hidden pockets, a black knitted cap to hide the shine of her hair, and black gloves to hide the sheen of her skin. Flexing her fingers, she felt confident that she could disappear into the shadows. Especially if the rest of the alien vessel was as dark as this room.

Minutes later, she was warm and armed, and she placed everything she needed in a black duffle bag which she stowed in a secure spot near the door.

She spent the next hour exploring the room. The ship clearly dealt in junk, and from the looks of the writing on the assorted pieces, the ship had interplanetary space travel capabilities.

It was tricky climbing over the heap of debris to the viewport, but she wanted a better look outside the spacecraft. She pulled a cloth out of the pocket of her jacket and cleaned a section of the interior pane. Her heart caught in her throat when she noticed the ship was near a planet.

Dark gray clouds and flashes illuminated below her. It looked like there was one hell of a storm covering most of the celestial body. In the distance, she counted three small moons in a line.

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