~North Sector, Near C-Site Airlock~
"Almost done with that mag-lock?"
"Yeah, almo— there we go!"
A heavy metallic thunk followed as the door closed automatically. Michael sighed and climbed back down the ladder.
My back hurts.
Glancing back, Bryan stood there nodding slowly with his arms crossed. He couldn't see what Michael was doing with his RIG exactly with his back blocking the view, but Michael was programming in personal overrides.
Could this land him in prison? Yes.
Does it matter? No.
Routine maintenance was performed once every year at most on these interior doors or whenever they broke and this place was going to shit in six. His maintenance now would count as a maintenance event but not routine maintenance.
A pretty simple picking operation for now. Doors that weren't due within six months for routine maintenance. And as he got closer to Doomsday, this would matter less.
The other time he decided he wouldn't do it is if it was a regular problem. Some sector doors had problems on the regular and no matter who was sent out to fix it. He could see the most recent service events when jacking into the control panel to get a rough idea of this.
"P-Sec got back to me. Turns out those two got their hands on illegal Class 3 hallucinogen drugs," Bryan said carefully. "Are you feeling alright?"
Class three? Those are extremely dangerous and can permanently fuck up your mind! And they spiked my food with it? Are you fucking kidding me?!
Wait. Could they be lying to Bryan? The CEC and Unitologists purposefully fuck up people in experiments or for religion and the CEC will kill anyone that gets in their way for profit. But I don't recall anything that would give them a reason to...
Behind Bryan, he could see the faint outline of the little girl and he shook his head.
"No, whatever they gave me... I'm still experiencing symptoms."
"Like what?"
"Voices and... a little girl I've never met. She knows me but I've never met her... She's here now."
"Jesus, you sound nuts," Bryan groaned. "It doesn't sound like the Doc's meds are working either. I really hope you get better and I guess we pray it isn't permanent."
"Trust me, I'm praying. But not like those Unitologist fucktards."
"Amen to that."
There was a brief pause before Bryan sighed loudly, scratching his head.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry for the other day. I was stressed out too."
Would you be saying this if those two weren't convicted?
Michael's expression tightened and he looked down at the floor contemplatively.
I can't alienate my superior. I need to be on good terms if I want to keep getting TAGs.
"It's all good. I know I've not been in my right mind either."
His gaze rose to an innocent, smiling girl in front of him, tilting her head. Her irises shifted between orange and red with each tilt.
"Great," Bryan beamed, instantly relaxing. At the same time Michael heard a brief static spike from his radio. "I need to get back to the office and check on the other crews. You've got two mag-locks left and then you can call it in early."
"I need a second person as per regulations..."
Michael snorted. "Since when were you that uptight about silly regs for one man jobs? Don't worry about it. It shouldn't take you more than an hour. You'll be done before mid-day and then you can get some rest."
"...Thanks," Michael replied curtly and nodded, his eyes still meeting those of the little girl.
"...Don't stay out too late..." Bryan hesitated, observing Michael standing there and staring into the ground with wide eyes when more static came in, and Michael said into his RIG, "I'm on my way sir."
...
...
...
"We're finally alone."
As soon as she said this, the metallic walls' coatings peeled away like fresh paint. A horn blare echoed through the hall, followed by faint screaming.
"What the fuck was that? What's going on?" Michael shouted, taking a step away from the girl.
From the grating in the floor, blood began to spout out like water fountains. The air became thick with the smell of iron and rust and mist seemed to form out of nothing.
Michael trembled where he stood, a cold chill running through his body accompanied by sharp pangs piercing his heart and his stomach twisting unpleasantly.
"Give me back my baby!"
The screams became weak sobs.
"My baby... Give him back to me!"
When the sound of something emerging from water echoed from behind him, Michael pivoted immediately and swung in terror.
It was a skeleton reaching out to him, its jaw wide with a black abyss inside. A soulless husk dripping blood and carrying the clear desire with its curled fingers to drag him beneath.
Crack.
The hall flashed vibrantly and returned to its normal state with the faint hum of electricity in the background.
"AGH! What the hell's your problem?!"
------
"You wanted to see me?" Bryan asked. "I left a guy having a psychotic break alone. Please tell me this is important and not another meeting."
"It's as important as you want it to be. We are reassigning you to Supervisor of Unit 13, effective immediately."
Bryan's eyes widened with excitement and confusion.
"Unit 13? A colony supervisor? I'm being promoted?"
"Yes. Congratulations Mr. Bryan Stuart."
"But... why?"
"Why? Leadership has observed your impressive ability to keep C-Site in a functioning capacity while dealing with many problem children. The current Unit 13 supervisor, however... well, he is displaying a lack of these qualities."
And if he can't handle Unit 17, then he'll be officially demoted. But reassigning him to a more troublesome unit? It sounds like they want him to fail. Who did he piss off?
"Do you have any objections, Mr. Bryan?"
"No, sir."
"Good. And don't worry about... Michael... I've been informed and sent someone to keep an eye on him."
"That's good to hear," Bryan said, relaxing more. "I was worried about him after what those two shitbags pulled."
His officer, much like Carthusia's habit, arched a brow silently before replying with a single word.
"Indeed."