Tevun-Krus #84 - Best of 2020

Damaged Goods - @Wuckster - Zombie SF

Damaged Goods

A Zombie SF story by Wuckster

Second Science Officer Jenn Hartounian furrowed her brow in concentration as she attempted another incision in the alien organism's abdomen. The carapace-like ebony skin had proved too hard for a standard surgical knife to cut through, so she had turned to the high-powered laser knife. Choosing to err on the side of caution, she had started on the low-power setting. The skin had put off a foul-smelling smoke reminiscent of rotting fish and burnt hair, but she had only managed to put some minor scratches into the surface. She thought she might eventually break through, but she also didn't want to be there all night. Throwing caution to the wind, she opted to flip the laser knife to high power. As soon as she hit the switch there was a flicker in the overhead lights, followed by a complete blackout.  

An eerie silence descended as the normally unnoticed whirring and humming of various machines and equipment suddenly stopped running. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Hartounian grumbled as she dropped the now dead laser knife to the table. "We're on a multi-trillion dollar spacecraft with the most cutting edge technology and all the bells and whistles money can buy and a stupid laser knife blows out the power circuits? And where's the emergency backup lights? I can't see a goddamn thing in here."

As if on cue the room became dimly illuminated with dull orange tinted lights. The vital equipment including the oxygen generator and the temperature regulator whirred back into life, but all non-essential tech remained without power.

In a fit of irritation, Hartounian swiped the useless laser knife off the table and it clattered with a resounding noise as it hit the floor. The lifeless alien organism seemed to be mocking her with its bulbous, pupil-less eyes as it lay motionless in the dissection tray. Other than a couple of long, thin antenna-like appendages sprouting out of its head, it was little more than a big black football shaped shell. While she was certainly curious about the inner workings of its body, it wasn't worth knocking out the power in the ship. Who knew how many other possibly vitally more important experiments had been interrupted elsewhere on the ship due to this needless annoyance?

She could feel the frustration bubbling up again and almost knocked the tray off the table and the alien specimen along with it, but managed to get herself under control. It was only a minor setback after all. Surely the maintenance crew was already on top of whatever malfunction had occurred and the main power would be back up in no time.

A warning alarm went off on her personal telecom unit, meaning an urgent transition was about to come through. She shifted her focus to the device on her wrist when the mechanical voice informed her that all crew were to convene on the ship's bridge immediately by order of Captain Grady.

*

"This is completely unacceptable! You need to get this fucking piece of garbage up and running right now! My shareholders will not stand for even a tiny drop in profits! We're on a tight schedule and every second counts! Chop chop! Time is money!"

"You need to get out of my face and back down, Silvaggio," Captain Grady said as she gave the man in the custom three-piece suit a solid shove in the chest. "I'm the Captain and this is my ship. As long as we're spacebound, what I say goes. You got that? I don't take orders from civilians on my ship. So you can tell your shareholders to buck up and deal with it."

"Fucking bitch," Silvaggio muttered as he straightened his tie and patted down his hair.

"Oh yeah, and Chaz? You might want to consider sucking on a breath mint. That liver and garlic sandwich you had for lunch is coming back with a vengeance."