Hunger of the Void

RED

SUDDENLY, a siren tore through the air.

Both Castro and Laika almost jumped out of their skins. The sound of the announcement system cut through the wails - a crackled message floated through, with odd screeches interrupting like a badly tuned radio.

"...the ship hanger... starboard..."

"It's the captain," Castro exhaled. 

It was De la Vega, indeed - but his voice was muffled, warped. The two of them stood listening, straining their ears to catch any stray word they could scarcely understand. 

The speaker emitted a high-pitched whine, scrambling the next part of his address. The captain's words became fractured, but it almost sounded like he was repeating himself over and over. 

"What's wrong with the speaker?" Laika tried keep her question at minimum volume. 

"I don't know. I didn't think any of them were broken," Castro said. 

That awful buzz and screech seemed to become louder. Whatever he was saying was growing more indistinguishable by the second. 

"CODE BL-"

Abruptly, the announcement was cut dead.  

Even the siren had stopped crying. 

Nothing about this situation was encouraging reassurance. They both stayed put for a moment, considering the options that were laid before them. Castro was running his fingers through his thick black hair. Laika had never witnessed him doing that before.

She spoke first. "Come on. We need to find someone to tell us what's happening."

"What if the captain was trying to tell us to stay in our living quarters?" This was the first occasion he looked truly concerned.  "What if we're running into something and make it worse?"

"You just said you came out to check! You heard a scream! They probably need help!"

Laika didn't care that she was wearing plain old clothes she used as pajamas. She scraped her unbrushed hair into her usual plait, not even caring if Castro came along with her. 

She wouldn't do nothing. Not this time. 

As she continued down the corridor, something else happened.

The lights above her head began to flash rapidly, flooding the corridor with red. 

Another bad sign.

Quickening her pace, Castro swore behind her. "There's been damage to the engine system!"

"What the hell is going on?" she questioned aloud. 

The events of the past forty-eight hours had been jam-packed with insanity. There was no option but to push aside emotions and continue on. It could be something minor. There could just be some issue with the ship, Laika hoped stupidly. 

She had a strong urge to check the recreational room. 

Firstly, the door was open. 

The door was never open. Unless it had malfunctioned, but every other instance they used the clearance ship implanted in their forearms. 

Castro clearly wondered the same thing, for they both marched towards it with agreed suspicion. Malfunction? The odds were too great. 

The room where they would normally drink warm beverages, lounge lazily in comfortable chairs, reading and playing games was now trashed. The dishes on the rack were smashed and in pieces on the floor. The furniture had been violently shifted. A magazine had been dropped, face-down on the floor. Whatever had happened in this room had been rough. However, no piece gave them any evidence.