Chapter Text
Quiet, even steps echoed through the rusty halls of the AT-5 lunar-turned-nautical station. Particles of dust filled the air, floating everywhere and giving it a gloomy, thick-looking atmosphere. Whole facility looked like it’s been abandoned in a rush - whoever resided there before left hell of a mess behind. In a harsh, red glow of emergency lights everything appeared more sinister than it probably was, the impression of stepping foot in a crime scene was only reinforced by the fact that a good part of the surfaces was covered in electrical wires and tubes that ran around in vein-like, unorganized patterns. Red-smeared walls would've been a clear sign to worry about in every other circumstances, but considering location of the whole station it wasn't given much more than a thought for later. Sometimes there was a leak here or a gap there and they were on a blood moon, of course a bit of a puddle near the vents and between the panels is to be just as expected as if it was a dust on a rocky planet.
Scrubbing the space clean will be a chore, though, and mental preparation for the task should begin right away… and maybe it was just some rust and not dry, flaking blood. These things did look similar especially in that light.
Scout knelt on one knee where metal panelling of the floor seemed cleaner. Heavy backpack swiftly moved from back of the suited figure to rest on their thigh, where they unzipped the front pocket and dug out an old device. Cranking it a few times, small bulb on top of it lit up and dark screen came to life. Moving charts of dim, green lines danced across the grid for a moment before setting into gentle curve. With outstretched, gloved hand and sensor held carefully, Scout started checking the closest environment for any abnormalities. Device protested weakly around few of the bigger blood smears on the surfaces - beeping was to be expected, but it only proved it wasn't all rust after all - but other results showed the place was surprisingly habitable, even if uncomfortable to live in after being abandoned for so long. Air was stale (unnoticeable through helmet and filtration mask) but finding the main air treatment unit and punching it with a fist a few times usually proved to be an easy fix, as far as Scout remembered the type and model used on similar stations. Lack of maintenance and years worth of buildup could clog things.
But first things first. Sturdy polymer map of the complex showed that power generators were in an unassuming, dusty room on the left of the station. Scout spared a sigh of relief, condensation fogging inside of their helmet for a second before their suit took care of it. It was going to be a short walk there, not many doors stood in their way - and if they did, there was a wrench in the backpack too.
Scout mounted the light on their shoulder and carefully hooked the handheld sensor on the waist belt, device ready to beep if conditions suddenly worsened. Hopefully they wouldn't.
Station was completely littered, but it was looking kind of manageable as far as they noticed. Sure, the bloody red smears and personal belongings laying in heaps on the floor suggested a terrible thing might have happened, but Scout saw no bodies nor any damage to the building or appliances that would have come from any sort of a weapon. On the other hand, when passing open doors and peeking inside, some of the lockers and drawers were open and emptied, data casettes missing from their ports. It looked like previous crew did leave in a hurry, but they had some time to prepare and pack most important items. Just a theory, but at least one which greatly decreased the possibility of intergalactic serial killer murdering them and maybe even still hiding there. Scout heard these stories many times - strange, nihilistic death cultist on suicide missions taking as many people as possible with them - but knew there was little truth to them. Old rumors from past times, they thought. Life wasn't as scarce of a resource as few years ago anymore, but it was still a shame to waste a pair of working hands if they were supposed to be rebuilding the humanity. Every man and woman mattered.
Blink of emergency light reminded them they were staring at the far end of the room where a poster of nearby planets was peeling from the wall. Peeking at the map again and marking the way they went, scout turned the corner and passed what must've been a medical wing. It's entrance was closed, but checking if it's locked up would have to wait for later. If they wanted to stay and establish a listening post there, it'd come in handy to know what kind of medicine was at hand in case of emergency - and no matter how careful they were, there would always be some kind of accidents happening.
A bead of sweat rolled down scout’s forehead. they furrowed their brows, not being able to wipe it without removing the helmet. When their colony discovered that last signal from AT-5 came many years ago, they knew it was abandoned… which meant it was available. No one else was interested in a desolate place that only came with two infinite resources: human blood and questions with no answers. However grim the landscape was, it had one great advantage - it was a free real estate.
Besides, blood made for amazing soil fertilizer. Scout thought about the starter crate safely tucked in the cargo of their shuttle and how they'll try growing something here. It would be a shame not to try experimenting using local resources too.
Scout vaguely remember the sweet memory of their first bite of homegrown fruit years ago when they were still just a kid. They couldn't wait to taste it again, even if it would take some time.
Generator room welcomed them with open doors. In red emergency light the wires and pipes running across the ceiling and falling onto the panels looked like veins popping right under the metallic skin, but besides the thick layer of dust, installation seemed otherwise intact. Scout located the main power source and removed side panel of the control unit to restart it. They pulled the lever with a bit of a force, piece stuck from years of neglect til it budged, then pressed the big, obnoxiously large button few times until it finally worked - and scout knew exactly when it clicked.
A sudden, blinding burst of light would've shocked them if their helmet didn't have a protective film. Scout thanked the veil they found the welding glass which was advertised to suppress supernova's burst. They doubted it would, but it was good enough for sudden light.
Scout blinked a few times and looked around, taking in the surroundings. Diagnostics popped up on most screens available: systems whirred to life, computers started buzzing around and long forgotten fans began turning with a jarring noise that soon became a steady background hum. Station's heart started pumping blood and coolant once again, even if it kicked off with few irregular beats.
The station was old, but not obsolete - built with function in mind, not the comfort or looks. It looked like it was patched up with scraps where it broke, but Scout knew it didn't necessarily have to mean someone did a bad job at fixing it. Patchwork of rusty metal and gray polymer panels unified on the connecting edges with even, neat welds and these vein-like wires. In decent, cool light Scout could see the cables were in fact covered in coagulated blood just like some corners and gaps here and there, which only reinforced the first thought they had upon seeing it - there were some minor leaks and the cleanup will take a while. They grabbed the sensor device to look closely at the results, but the machine’s barely heard beeping was subsiding, only picking up again when they poked the bloody wiring with it. Air was getting clearer with every passing moment, but diagnostics on screen recommended an hour long wait until breath support was removed, which was more than enough time to check the integrity of generators, scrubbers and engines.
Scout put their backpack on the ground, dug out pocket toolbox and got to work.
After three days in the helmet, breathing in and out the same recycled air, Scout knew they had to take things one step at the time. Yes, their suit did a great job removing CO² and pumping fresh O² in their lungs which only caused minimal migraine, but they should’ve still started with slow breathing exercises and avoid straining themselves. They never had any issues with switching between recycled suit air and AC, so instead of easing their body into the new environment they knew better. Opening locks on the helmet and removing it, Scout put it aside, taking first lungful of air-
-and almost immediately chocked.
It felt as if rough sand filled their nose and travelled through throat to fill every part of their lungs, grating and biting into every part of their respiratory system. Between dry heaving and gasping and choking on the foul smelling air, they checked the sensor with the teary eyes, then looked at the AC console, then at the sensor again. According to both, the air was safe, but no machine took into the account the horrible, choking, coppery smell it had.
Scout dropped the sensor to the ground, steadying themself with one hand on the wall, careful not to press anything. The other one closed on the material on their chest, Scout calming their insides so they won't turn upside down any more than they already did. Their eyes stung both from almost vomiting and sudden dryness of the air and cold light, sudden sweat covered their face and neck and they knew it was only a shock and a matter of getting used to new local atmosphere. They had to, it was their new atmosphere and it was just a smell, even if very strong and less than pleasant.
Breathing through the mouth to avoid smelling the air and spitting on the ground to get rid of the almost painful sensation, when the initial shock subsided Scout exhaled few times to calm themself. Knowing the air was safe, but just had a foul smell gave them some semblance of comfort. They could install freshener unit in few places if the stench didn't go away in few hours. Gathering the tools they just used to do the basic maintenance around, they looked at their gloved hands. Material was dirty with oil in which crumbs of dry coagulated blood dissolved, their kneepads looking no better. They needed to wash their mouth and face then scrub the suit at least in places it was the dirtiest. where in the station were sanitary gels and granted access to water?
It was time to check for these was behind the closed doors of the medbay.
Walking through the corridors in clear light exposed every wear and tear of the place. More veiny wiring crawled in random directions from the ports and connecting to others. Hanging low from the ceiling there panels fell to the floor and exposed the installations. With each breath Scout took, they noticed the AC must've finally started working like it was supposed to - dryness and bad smell fading away more and more… or they were getting used to it quicker than they supposed. They'd rather take the first answer.
Fortunately the medical wing wasn't locked up - a slight push from the shoulder was all it took to open doors stuck on a patch of flaky rust. Scout scanned around and found a sink with a cabinet above it. They took off their gloves and unzipped the suit, shrugging it off and stepping out of the pile on the floor.
Scout's whole body was covered in sheer layer of sweat. Thin material of underclothes was uncomfortably moist, hair stuck to their forehead and neck and the smell… well, few days in a suit could've done that to everybody. Not the worst they smelled too. Worn top was shed and Scout shivered when hot skin met with cool air of the room. Quick washdown in the sink felt like the most luxurious shower even if they scrubbed just the top half of their body. From what they've seen in the generator room and what systems were connected to it, the station still had water pumped from reservoir, they just didn't know how much of it was ready to use.
With quick, efficient moves and few pumps of antibacterial gel found in the cabinet, Scout washed down the sweat of recent days and when they were done, they dug out a spare hoodie to put on. It felt good to be just a little bit cleaner and wearing more comfortable clothes, not to mention they couldn't wait to see how often the water reservoir will allow them to bathe or shower properly. While Scout was putting the bottle away, they found some toothpaste. Squeezing a bit on their tongue to mask the weird feeling still lingering there, they decided to scrub the dirt from their suit while the minty taste took care of their mouth.
It was a standard issue of space suit fit for relatively safe environments when the atmosphere showed just slight discrepancies from the livable norm. The thing had seen better days but luckily they didn't have to patch it yet, sturdy polymer armoring withstanding every task up to this point. With a rag and another pump of antibacterial they managed to clean it well enough. By the end of it, the minty toothpaste did it's job and previous taste in their mouth was just a distant, unpleasant memory.
Scout thought it wouldn't hurt to look around the cabinets in search for medicine. There were some basic antiseptics, painkillers and bandages, suture kits and splints, but nothing suited for more advanced procedures. Since their shuttle didn't have much more than that too and deciding not to damage themself any more than getting a bruise or minor cut, Scout approached the row of few gurneys and nearby desk. Scanning the files spread there, they noticed the most recent one under the name Jack, who was the station's welder. Poor man met a terrible fate of being blasted headfirst with massive amount of radiation. Papers weren't filled out completely - how it happened, what was the recovery process et cetera - but scout could assume only one fate. Luckily the sensor, still pinned to the suit laying few metres further, didn't beep a single warning about radiation while in this place.
What could've caused this? As far as Scout's knowledge went, AT-5 station did have a dozen or so submarines equipped with x-ray cameras, but they were obviously supposed to be used only to shoot through the coagulated masses in the ocean and even then it was heavily discouraged as last resort option. Any maintenance done on the SM’s was supposed to be one person job with the worker either inside or outside of the ship to prevent accidents such as this… which could only mean Jack and/or his coworker must've done terrible job at following basic safety protocols, fixing the sub at the same time from both sides. Scout shook their head and felt sorry for both of them. Incident report must've gotten someone fired since the incident itself most likely killed the guy in no time.
They tried not to dwell on the memories of other radiation victims they seen in the past. Swollen bodies, peeling skin and raw meat of muscle melting from the body… not every colony had been so lucky to be established peacefully.
Scout marked another line on the map as they headed towards what was designated as communication center. Now in comfortable clothes instead of outside suit - save for heavy suit boots, since they didn't trust the dirty floor yet - backpack on one shoulder and sensor held in free hand, they walked towards the place that could connect them to their colony. Scout knew they should've secured it before checking the medical wing, but they desperately needed to freshen up a bit especially after inhaling the bloody air too quickly. Their settlement knew they could count on them making contact. An hour wouldn't make much difference and Scout was known for being a reliable one.
The comm room felt pretty spacious for such crowded station - round room with relatively big window on one side and various screens, computers and terminals lining the other, however not much could be seen from the absolute chaos that littered the floor. Dozen of chairs were tossed across whole room, files and papers in various stages of disarray covered an exceptionally intricate braid of cables and wires that formed from a vent near the window. Oval, rusty shape looked like it was leaking from the wall. Data casettes were sparse, computer ports mostly empty so Scout was certain that the AT-5 crew tried to salvage as much information as possible and them wherever they went. What was their reason was still unknown, but Scout knew there was always a way to learn these things even if no one stayed to tell the tale.
And further lack of bodies proved their theory about it not being a crime scene. Bodies wouldn't disappear, and if they did, it would leave a trail if someone dragged them out.
Scout waved the sensor around themself in a rough scan. The device beeped once or twice when pointed to the window, but quickly went silent. Must've been the leaking vent but otherwise, nothing else deviated from the norm.
Gathering all the papers in few piles, Scout cleared the space around the main console to comfortably sit there. Thank the veil someone left the admin ID clipped to the board next to the screen, which probably violated every protocol the station must've had in the past.
Good thing Scout was making the rules now.
First thing would be changing the password to “password”, because what was that incomprehensible keysmash supposed to be? Impossible to remember too.
They found icon they were looking for and pressed record.
Settlement Delta, this is Scout, reporting from our new post on AT-5 moon-
A message was uploading quickly, even though with local basic beacon would take anywhere from few hours to a day to reach their colony after they’d send the file - but they'll know they're settled. Scout rested their elbows on the table and leaned comfortably to record a brief report. They saw long abandoned mug with COI logotype. Whatever was inside turned into dusty spot on the bottom long ago. Right next to it, slightly wrinkled paper crane guarded a pack of stick-it notes and clips.
I've arrived safely, minimal turbulences on landing. Shuttle did good as it always had, cargo is safe. I'll be installing our modified relay beacon later, just wanted to update you first-
As far as I saw, there's no sign of any crew members. No bodies, they all must've left. I only saw a bit of the station yet but I doubt anything will change in that matter-
This place is a mess. I'll see what data can be salvaged, hopefully we'll get something useful. There must've been a leak from outside or something, but sensors are quiet save for some minor irregularities, but I'm sure they'll be gone when I clean up. Shame I didn't pack the apron for the job-
Scout chuckled a bit. It felt good to talk to someone even if the other side wouldn't answer right away. They knew the colony was listening, though. They turned their head to look at the vast sanguine ocean.
Right now I'm sitting in the comm room and there's this huge window, twice as tall as I am. Outside looks almost tranquil, but you'll see when I send you visual package. I'm gonna enjoy the view for a moment and get to work, clean around and unpack. Talk to you soon.
They typed the command and sent the audio with final press of the button. Briefly looking at the files showed that even if physical copies were a mess, digitals were still there and with admin password they could've easily access it - later, though.
Scout noticed the far end of the landing strip peeking from the bottom of the window and got up to look at their shuttle. On their way to the thick glass panel they picked files from the floor not to step on them. Nearing the mass of braided cables that ran underneath the papers, pile in their hands grew quickly. They knelt down to leave them in one stack on the ground. Grabbing another particularly heavy folder and picking it up, Scout's heart dropped.
They expected to see the wires coiling on the floor and then running towards one of the terminals nearby. Instead the cable ended right there, torn in half and splitting into five thick, finger-like tubes with rusty stain blooming underneath them. Still and shining wetly, it disturbingly resembled a hand clawing into the floor.