Star Side

Chapter 11

Stellar date (Earth Time): 01-25-2914

Joshua survived. Barely.

He didn't regain consciousness once Naomi had managed to get him to stop oozing and stabilized him. That was to be expected, given the trauma he had just experienced, but it could very easily take a turn for the worse. Any amount of time where the brain was deprived of oxygen could cause irreversible brain damage, and though he didn't look it, Joshua was still eighty-five years old.

Naomi took first watch over him while Levi took a rest, and I took it upon myself to take care of the life-pod issue, for yes, according to the computer it was still pumping out insane amounts of oxygen.

The sanitizing chamber, which separated the docking areas from the rest of the space station, beeped in welcome as I stepped through it, as though asking me 'Are you sure you're absolutely clean?'

The life-pods were kept near the entrance of the docks for quick access, so it meant my destination was the first doorway, little slit that it was. It made me feel fat every time I stepped through it.

Despite having pumped tons of new air, I still caught whiffs of gross carrot-puke, along with something I hadn't caught before. Something musky, like wet, dark soil or a cave.

I was reminded of how claustrophobic these pods were as I weaved my way back to the front room where the controls were. It only took one button to shut off the oxygen, then I was left to take in anything that was left from Joshua's unfortunate excursion.

The first thing that caught my eye was the chair he'd been in. All of them were a dark-gray material, a lot like canvas, making the long purple and maroon hairs stand out.

I leaned down to get a closer look, but didn't touch. I didn't know what could happen if I did. All sorts of weird crap happened in space. There was this particularly famous story of a guy who pet a weird fuzzy animal thing only to swell up like a balloon within an hour and die from inability to breathe.

Nope. I was not going to be that guy.

As I stared at the hairs, my eyes were drawn to the floor, where familiar dark dirt had been streaked. I assumed they'd come from Joshua's boots when he'd returned, but the mud didn't just go from the doorway to the seat. I also trailed around the foot of the console and up the side of a wall.

"What the..." I muttered as my eyes went up and up till the mud finally disappeared, rubbed off by whatever trailed it.

The high pitched tone went off, this time clearer than before.

The hair's on the back of my neck shot up.

"Nuh uh, I've seen this horror movie." I backed up to the doorway. No need to stick around now that I'd seen to the imminent problem. I wasn't soft hearted enough to try and save whatever alien life had caught a ride with Joshua. I could satisfy my curiosity after it had died.

I could still hear the high pitch through the disinfecting showers. There had to be a way to disinfect that pod so we didn't have to do this every time we stepped into it.

Just in case, because I wasn't stupid, I made sure to type in the code to lock down the docks after I left the showers.

"Oh no, not I, I will survive," I sang under my breath (I wasn't much of a singer).

Still, for some reason, when the high pitch tone broke off into a lower warble, my chest gave an aching clench.

I met Levi as he came out of his quarters to relieve Naomi of Josh-watch with a plate of rehydrated breakfast.

"So, I think there's an alien on the life-pod."

He stopped mid-yawn to stare through me.

"I locked down the docking bay," I said at his accusing stare. "I don't think it's Josh's Diablo, but there was this high pitch tone and all this hair on his seat."

"That hair could have come off him when he sat there, and electronics commonly make that high pitch when they're malfunctioning. We haven't exactly been nice to that life pod."

"But there was also this mud trail..." but I trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed with my embarrassment at my own jumpiness. I'd sung the survival song and everything, I'd been stupidly proud of myself. "You're right, that was stupid."

He blinked once. Then showed another off-character sign of affection by reaching out and patting my head.

"You're a mess," he said. "Take a shower and sleep."

"Yes, Dad."

He wrinkled his nose. "No. Just no."

"Toenail god?"

"No nicknames." He took the breakfast tray from me. His mouth did that crooked-line which was his smile. "Shoo."