Nano Bytes

My tablet vibrated, and I saw flashes of various interfaces as someone runs through the ships systems, too fast for me to register. Schematics and inventory pages flickered like a TV with bad reception. It lingered for a while on my medical check, running through the injuries that the intelligent space suit I was wearing had detected. I realised suddenly that they shouldn’t be able to access this kind of information without the proper permissions. Who were these guys? Military?

We are coming to get you. Screen compromised. Suggest deploying sun shield to maintain integrity. Comply?

The language was so formal. It was as if I was dealing with one of those prototype A. I.’s I had heard so much about. In fact, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to think that the military were testing it out here, where no one could interfere. Then again, it might just be standard–operating–procedure–jargon.

Yes.

It was becoming an effort to type. Still, the idea was a good one. The sun shield was a thin tinted glass that slid over the cockpit’s screen, to help protect our eyes from the glare of the sun when we flew towards one. Maybe it could seal some of the leaks. Then again, it might make the cracking worse, but what the hell.

Whoever it was must be locked out of actually sending the ship orders. I tapped my way through to the sun shield icon and then watched as it slid over the top. Fresh cracks snapped up under the pressure, but I felt something change in the room, and my ears popped. Despite this, the hiss continued, though it had been reduced to the low hiss of a viper, rather than a blown gasket.

We are coming to get you. Ecosystem improved, but remains compromised. Oxygen low. Critical levels in two minutes. Suggest using Space Walk Suit in compartment B1.

Damn. Why did they have to tell me how long I had left? I stabbed at the tablet. Did they think I hadn’t thought of that myself?

Compartment is crushed from impact. Helmet broken. No go.

A short pause. Then:

We are coming to get you.

Great. Well I’ll just sit here and enjoy the last two minutes of my life then. Might as well find out if I have a chance. I can’t summon the strength to write much more, so I go with:

ETA?

Silence.

We are coming to get you.

That old chestnut again. Maybe they didn’t want to dash my hopes. I flicked back to my pictures, and allow a tear to trickle down my face as I looked at my husband and child one last time. It freezes on my cheek. Not long now.

A bright light flashed, beaming from outside the cockpit. Is this the light at the end of the tunnel? It’s dazzling, almost beautiful in its perfect whiteness. I felt hands grasp me, lifting me from the ground, sliding me onto something soft as a cloud.

My legs and chest were on fire. Do you still feel pain in heaven? I saw figures, shifting above me like angels, but the lights are too bright, almost blinding. I closed my eyes as I was lifted again, then moved onto something cold and smooth as metal.

«Thank you,” I whispered to them.

I opened my eyes to see my saviours. Black goggled figures looked back, their faces obscured by the gray masks they wore.

No. Not goggles. Not masks. Inky, round eyes, wet and shiny like fish eggs. Long skinny fingers, skittered over me like spiders, poking and prodding. I saw blades held aloft, gleaming instruments of clinical precision. A needle was plunged into my neck, followed by the sudden inability to move my arms or legs. I could barely breathe, but I felt every touch, every twinge of pain. I was paralysed.

One leaned in, its skin as gray and pallid as a corpse’s. The mouth is a toothless slit, but I understood its gurgled words, corrupted though they were by the alien tongue that formed them.

We got you.