“What do you mean the left engine’s failed?!”

“I mean the left engine’s failed.” The engineer repeated the words back to him in the most monotone voice imaginable, like he was slow or something.

Kael resisted the urge to slap the man across the face. “If the damn engine’s gone, we can’t move, can we?”

“That’s how engines work, yes.”

Kael ran his hair through his fingers, trying not to spin out. “Okay, okay, we can fix this. Send some guy out there, tell him to do his mechanic crap or whatever, so we’re not stranded in space.”

The engineer sounded bored. “That’s not how that works.”

“That’s not how that– I tell YOU how things work, little man, not the other way around!”

The engineer merely shrugged.

God, he had a punchable face. Kael would do anything to punch that man in the face. He gripped the edge of the counter and steadied himself. “We need an action plan. We need a way to get the engine fixed.”

Now it was the pilot’s turn to offer his useless input. “We need to drop the cargo hold, sir. Sever that part of the ship, and the rest of the thing will be able to drop into–”

“What? We’re not dropping the cargo! Do you know how many billion credits of surveying equipment the cargo hold is storing?” He grabbed the pilot by the shirt and pulled him close. “More than you’ll make in your entire career.”

The engineer yawned pointedly. Kael wasn’t even sure what his damn name was, something stupid, probably. He was chubby too, and balding.

Damn idiot.

“I suppose you have some input of your own,” Kael snarled at the man.

“Only that if you’d let us do the maintenance check before we launched, we’d have caught whatever was wrong with the engine.”

Kael growled angrily. “We were on a deadline, you idiot. Do you know what funds this whole operation, Jerry–”

The pilot popped up. “Actually, I’m Jerry, he’s Greg–”

“–It’s the surveying equipment. It’s the deadlines we hit, the planets we scan for extraction. We miss a deadline, the company loses profit. Millions of dollars of profit. So yes, I rushed the extraction job.”

“And now we might be billions in the hole because of it.”

The man had the nerve to say it with all the emotion of a metronome.

Kael pulled at his hair. “I need other options. We can’t drop the cargo hold. We also can’t get stranded here in space.”

“There are no other options,” protested the pilot. “We don’t even know what the breach is. All I’m getting in the comms is that the engine and the surrounding hull are compromised. It could be a chunk of meteorite in the engine fans, or it could be that there’s a giant gaping hole on that wing of the ship.”

Kael rubbed his eyes. “Send a mechanic out there. Executive decision, send a mechanic out there.”

The engineer rolled his eyes. “That’s not how that–”

“Fine, Jerry, two mechanics. Open your damn mouth again, and I’ll send a third.”

And just like that, they were sending a mechanic out there.

They geared the two unlucky welders up with a few spacesuits. Jerry– Greg, one or the other chose that moment to start protesting that the spacesuits were for emergency… Kael tuned them out.

Within twenty minutes, the mechanics were on the hood of the engine, examining the damage. Kael stood there, biting his nails while they argued about what to do.

“It’s a surface-level crack,” Mechanic number #1’s tinny, crackled voice shot through the comms.

“Can’t tell how deep it’s going, though.” That garble sounded feminine, so it must’ve been #2.

Dipshit engineer started talking to them through the mike. “Give me estimates; has it broken through the vents and the insulation?”

“Yeah, definitely. I’m trying to figure out if it’s cut through the liquid fuel pipes; if not, we can weld it and it should be good.”

“Be careful.”

“Oh, like they don’t know that already,” Kael snarled.

There were a few minutes of silence, in which Kael started spiralling even more, but by the end of it, one of the mechanic’s voices shot back.

“Yeah, can’t tell. I’d say 80% chance we’re fine, 20% percent chance–”

“20% chance when you try to weld the thing, you blow up half the ship,” the engineer concluded. “Alright, that settles it. You two head back in; we’ll seal off that quadrant of the ship and eject it into space.”

“What?” demanded Kael as the comms went dead. “I thought I made myself crystal clear–”

“And now, I’m making myself clear. Under no circumstances are you risking the lives of everyone on this ship for a few scanning devices.”

“You understand I’m your boss–”

“Fire me then. I’ll take fired over dead any day.” And with that, the fat man marched off.

Kael waited about two minutes after the man had left before snapping up the comms. “You two. Get to welding.”

“But Gerry said–”

“I don’t care what he said. Start welding.”

“But–”

“You have about thirty seconds to begin before I call my superiors and tell them to blacklist you from ever holding another position at this company.”

A drawn-out buzzing noise from the other side of the comm set meant that the lackeys had started welding.

Kael’s hands had started to sweat now, and he took to wringing them together. 80% odds. He’d taken bigger gambles before and come out on top. Besides, the job seemed to be going well. The mechanics were tuning in every few minutes with intermittent reports.

“Plate seven, fully attached. Plate nine has been amputated, ejecting excess.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Kael glittered eagerly. “I’ll have you two promoted for this, get that idiot Jerry fired–”

And then, everything went wrong.

“Uh oh.”

Kael snapped up the comm set. “What’s uh oh?”

“Uh, probably nothing, just some clear fluid leaking out of one of the vents, might be–”

BOOOOOOOM.

The sound was so loud that Kael heard it in two places: once through the comms, and once from behind him, where the engine was.

The fat engineer burst back into the room, and for the first time in perhaps forever, he looked enraged. “What did you do?!!!”

And then everything around them started flashing red as alarms started blaring.

For once, Kael was at a loss for words.

The rest of it was a rush.

What's-his-name the engineer hustled everyone into escape pods at the end of the ship, the ringing of the alarms blasting through every corridor. A faint smell of burnt rubber was leaking through the air now, and Kael was starting to feel lightheaded, which either meant a panic attack or the oxygen was leaking out of the ship.

Probably both.

They got to the pods just fine. Engineer guy loaded them all in, one by one, and he even managed to save the two mechanics who’d been out there. They got in just in time, covered in bruises and welts, and Kael vaguely remembered wondering how the hell they didn’t just notice the jet fuel leaking out sooner and stop.

It was only then, standing in the pod as it was about to take off, did Kael snap out of his trance as he remembered something.

“The cargo hold!” Kael scrambled out of the pod just as it was about to close.

The engineer was staring at him, incredulous. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

The alarms were cutting into everyone’s ears now like sirens. Kael could hardly concentrate, but he knew he needed to save the cargo.

“The cargo,” he insisted. “The chips and scanners in there are worth billions.”

The alarms were getting louder.

The fat engineer scrambled out of the hold and shook Kael like a rag doll. “Look at me, man! We will die if we don’t go NOW! Those noises getting through your thick head? They mean the fire is spreading! This whole ship’s going to be ablaze in minutes!”

“I don’t care,” Kael insisted. “We need to get the chips at least.”

The engineer looked like he wanted to argue. Then, the sprinklers came on with a wshhhh!

That seemed to convince him. He let go of Kael’s shoulders and stepped back into the pod, shrugging. “Your funeral, man. The rest of us are leaving.”

“What?” Kael’s eyes were starting to sting now, which meant there wasn’t just water in the sprinklers; it was inflammatory chemicals too. He coughed. “Don’t you have any sense of loyalty?”

The engineer snorted and jabbed a button on the wall of the pod. “Loyalty is what kept me from throwing you into the void.”

The pod walls started closing with a grinding creak, and soon the ship’s crew was hidden away by a thick wall of metal.

“T-minus seven to pod launch.”

“Six.”

“Five.”

Fine. Screw them. He didn’t need them anyway.

Kael scrambled out of the escape room, wringing the water and chemicals out of his blazer. It was a thirty-thousand credit suit. Oh well. If at least he could save the chips, it’d all be worth it.

It was a nightmare getting to the cargo hold. The main hall was blocked by collapsed metal beams and cracked floors, and the thick scent of smoke meant the fire was spreading.

Kael scrambled through the maintenance door and booked it for the cargo.

He slipped a couple times in the mess of water that was flooding the whole ship, and he scraped his hand nicely against the edge of a broken doorway. But he made it to the cargo fine, and miraculously, the crates were intact.

Excellent, excellent.

Kael grabbed the biggest box he could find, and he hit gold. Processing chips. A million dollars a pop, these were the most expensive things on the plane. Just these, and he’d be happy.

Kael scrambled out of the hold and dashed his way back to the escape room.

The way back was even worse than there. Three of the routes he’d used were fully flooded now, and he had no choice but to wade through them like an idiot. The suit was fully ruined now.

Dammit.

The screeching of the alarms was getting louder now, but by this point, it didn’t matter. He was just a hallway away from the escape room.

Kael stumbled through into the room, nearly falling under the weight of the giant box. Now all he had to do was find a pod–

He scrambled into the closest one, a one-seater, and jabbed the close button.

“Beep.”

Big fat error message.

Kael laughed shakily. “Oh, come on. Come on.” He hit the button again, to no avail.

Some sort of error code, most of which he didn’t understand. There was one bit in there that was comprehensible:

WEIGHT LIMIT EXCEEDED

Kael stared down at the cargo box in his hands, dripping water and chemicals. “Shit.”

“Screw this.” Kael rubbed his face. He was not going to be outplayed by a goddamn computer. He set the crate down next to him and ducked under the control panel. It was a sea of wires and wires, none of which he understood, but he did see a big black one that connected the smart monitor to the engine.

Without so much as a second’s hesitation, he yanked, producing a flurry of sparks. Then, still ducked under the table, he jabbed the button on the desk.

The pod made a low beep, then fell silent. A second later, the door was grinding shut.

“Excellent.” Kael hoisted himself up and pressed the launch command. The pod hesitated for a second, like it was still considering blocking him, but a second later, the light turned green, and the launch sequence had begun.

“Ha!” Kael snorted, buckling up. “Weight limit exceeded… I’ll tell you ‘weight limit exceeded’.”

And a second later, there was a dull clank and the pod shot out of the ship.

Everything went fine for a few seconds, but as soon as Kael heaved a sigh of relief, the thing veered hard to the right.

Kael went flying into the side of the pod wall, despite the buckles, and the box of chips slammed right into him. He groaned in pain and tried to right himself. “Normal turbulence, should be…”

Which was about the time the pod started spinning.

The entire pod, chips, and Kael and all started twisting like a top, sending both Kael and his lunch flying. Then, alarms started blaring and thrusters started screaming.

Every screen in the pod started flashing angry red symbols, and now the pod’s automated voice kicked in: “Weight distribution error. Manual piloting engaged.”

A little black joystick popped up at the center of the console.

“What? I’m not the pilot! Jerry– Greg is! Autopilot! Autopilot, give me autopilot!”

The machine did not comply. Instead, the pod kept spinning and the machine started beeping now, screaming warnings in binary and Morse and a million other languages Kael didn’t understand.

Kael grabbed the joystick and yanked it around in a fruitless attempt to right the ship, but it didn’t work. The pod flipped on its side, sending him crashing headfirst into the wall.

“Oh come on!” Kael wrestled the controls of the thing, but now it had locked itself to all motion.

“TRAJECTORY ERROR! TRAJECTORY ERROR!” the thing screamed in a little tinny voice.

“Yes, I know, just SHUT UP!”

“OPTIMAL TRAJECTORY UNAVAILABLE,” the thing announced. “FORCE REDIRECT ENGAGED.”

“Great! Is that autopilot? It’s autopilot, right?”

“Prepare for emergency landing in seven clicks.”

“Emergency landing?! Emergency landing where?” Kael banged his fists against the console. “Listen to me, you stupid thing, I’ve got a box full of valuable chips that need to get back to civilization–”

“Nearest habitable moon: RX-1. Public Name: Babylon. Landing in three minutes.”

“No! No moons!” yelled Kael desperately as the pod spun out into the void. He was pinned to the side of his seat now, trapped under a pile of chips, but he extracted himself with difficulty.

“Listen to me, you stupid machine,” he growled. “I need to get to the Centauri system. Civilization. You got that?”

“Atmospheric descent has begun.”

And all of a sudden, the darkness of space lit up around him as the pod dropped like a stone, the edges of it burning up on entry.

“Heat shields compromised. Engage recovery position.”

Kael had no idea what that meant. Desperate, and hopeless now too, he buried himself under his pile of microchips.

The view outside had gone from pitch black to flaming red to a blinding blue haze as the pod entered the atmosphere.

“Everything’s fine,” Kael told himself aloud. “Everything is fine. I’m going to survive, and save millions in microchips, and I’ll get a promotion–”

“Warning. Ocean landing. Prepare for aquatic impact.”

“Oh come on!” Kael started praying to all the gods he could think of, and made up a few for good measure.

The pod slammed into the water’s surface with a bone-jarring crash, and suddenly the light around them went dark as the pod submerged.

It reemerged a second later, and the pod window shattered open a second after that.

Ocean water poured in, and Kael swallowed a mouthful of seawater. The pod was spinning in lazy circles now, and it took all of Kael’s concentration to find an opening in the window shards big enough to squeeze out of.

He managed, though, but the second he was out of the water and paddling in the dim twilight, he remembered the chips.

“Goddamnit, no!”

The pod was already starting to sink, bloated from the weight of the chips. Kael dove down without hesitation. He was not going to lose those microchips after all that.

One dive, two dives later, Kael emerged, gasping for breath. “NononoNONO!”

He took a final breath and dived into the clear green water. Find the window, find the window. Kael found it soon enough and swam back into the carcass of the pod. The chips were all floating around like mad, and Kael shoved as many of them as he could into his box, as many as he could save–”

CRACK!

And suddenly, the side of Kael’s head hit the metal wall of the pod. Kael stumbled, woozily, slurring words and thoughts alike in the darkness of the water.

He tasted blood in his mouth.

And then suddenly, darkness.