Cw: mentions of a pandemic, stages of grief, panic attack, burns, fire, near-death situations, real sad my dudes
CODE RED flashed across the screen as the klaxon sounded on the ship. Running like chickens with their heads cut off, everyone on the crew evacuated, realizing it was that or die a horrible fireball death in space. Well, everyone except Whumpee.
Whumpee was determined to try and save the ship, alone if they had to. The ship carried vital medicine that was needed for a newer colony that wasn't used to the dust from the planet's surface, causing a serious pneumonia. One of the affected was Whumpee's mother, so it was personal.
Running back and forth between the engine room and the cockpit to check the status of the ship between repair attempts, Whumpee was running on fumes and overstimulated from the sound of the alarm, the flashing lights, and the smoke from the engine room clogging their lungs.
It was hard to breathe. Whumpee couldn't breathe. In the cockpit after a particularly difficult repair attempt that led to Whumpee getting burned quite badly, the realization that their attempts were futile set in.
"Ok, ok, you're ok, deeeep breaths now, like we practiced in the mirror. You're g-"
Deep breaths turned shallow in a matter of seconds as Whumpee slid to the floor. Their legs were jelly. Sweat poured down their face and back. They were going to die on this ship. Alone. And their mother would die. Alone. Weeping like an injured child, they clung to the control panel for dear life. In a stroke of amazing luck, they accidentally caught their sleeve on the radio channel adjuster.
Crackling to life, it croaked out "-you ok? Is your ship evacuated? We see your ship has caught on fire. We will give you a minute to respond before we continue on our journey."
"H-help. P-please. I am alone in the cockpit and this ship is carrying medicine," Whumpee sobbed.
"We are sending a rescue team immediately. Hold tight."
Within minutes, the smoke filled ship was lit up with beams from flashlights and loud voices. These loud voices would come to find Whumpee curled in a ball with tear streaks down their sooty face.
Team Leader approached slowly and crouched down. Reaching an arm out, they asked "are you Whumpee, from the distress call?"
Whumpee nodded vigorously, relieved that help was here. "Please, you have to get the medicine. It's in the cargo bay. People, people are depending on it."
Team Leader shifted uncomfortably. "Listen kid, the cargo bay was completely engulfed by the time we got on here. We've got maybe three minutes before we're all dead. I'm sorry. We're leaving."
This was too much. The panic attack set in for a second time as Whumpee was confronted with the concrete truth that many, including Mother, would die a painful death in isolation from their families as the lunar dust invoked pneumonia was extremely contagious with a low survival rate.
As their breathing shallowed once more, there wasn't enough clean air to breath in. Team Leader rushed forward to catch Whumpee as they collapsed under the control panel. Scooping them up in their arms, they verbally signaled to evacuate the ship with extreme haste.
Ow. OW. Why am I in pain? Whumpee cracked their eyes to see Medic gently tending to the burn on Whumpee's forearm. Trying to sit up, Team Member 1 was there to push them back down by the shoulders as Team Member 2 held their ankles. "No no no, you're ok, we rescued you. Remember? Your ship was on fire? You burned your arm real bad."
Gasping in horror, Whumpee remembered the ship. The medicine. And what would happen when they arrive home without the lifesaving medication.
Wrenching themselves free from all three people, Whumpee ran down the hallways of the ship looking for a window. Bursting into the cockpit, everyone turned in surprise as Team Members 1 and 2 followed shortly after along with Medic, wielding a needle.
Whumpee struggled against the hands that held them. Team Leader walked over and turned Whumpee's face to look at theirs so they would be distracted from the syringe.
"Hey. Hey. Listen. We tried. I sent some people to the cargo bay to see what was on your ship before finding you and we almost lost two good people. I know it's hard right now to wrap your head around it, but you did your best. That's what matters."
The needle was in and out before Team Leader was finished. As the sedative progressed, Whumpee cried weakly. "M- *gasp* my, my, my mother wih- will die. Without. Without that medicine." As their eyes drifted shut, Team Leader shushed them. They knew of the fate that Whumpee's mother held. It would be painful and lonesome. And Whumpee would likely never forgive themselves. And what was more tragic, is that Team Leader knew all about the pneumonia before it happened because it was not, in fact, related to the lunar dust, thought it certainly didn't help. It was spread by Team Leader's rivaling colony and Team Leader was sent to spread it in care packages for the new colony as a sign of good faith. Their colony would not survive without the precious resources that were going to be split between them.
And more, the established colony had offered to help with the illness by having "medicine" gifted as well. The placebo was put on Whumpee's ship and as the crew got settled, the rivaling colony did some tinkering, causing the explosion.
"Team Leader, what do we do now? We can't go back without risking us catching the pneumonia as well."
"We're going to take them with us. They'll serve with us on this ship. I feel like we owe it to them." The team nodded gravely as they knew this secret would not leave this room.
Whumpee came to in the med bay. They were placed next to a window so they could see out at the burning ship to avoid further escape attempts.
They wept. They wept for their colony. They wept for their dying mother. And they wept because they knew they had failed. Upon learning that they would not be returning to their colony, they wept one final time before taking a vow of silence out of respect for the lost.
