Free Home Planet: Awakening (Part 1) by T.J. Sedgwick

intermittent operation. But how intermittent? I could try forever and never get another connection to SD-057, whoever that was.
    I continued along the corridor, straight toward the other end—the quickest route to Module 2. Then I heard something up ahead and froze to the spot, listening intently. After pausing for a full minute, I detected no further sound. I considered for a moment whether I’d heard it or just imagined it.
    Was it an early sign of the hallucinations that would surely come if I remained alone?
    Up ahead, about sixty feet away and halfway to the next module, an overhead light flickered on and off at seemingly random intervals. On the floor below it lay a jumbled mess of what looked like mainly office furniture—a couple of upturned desks, some chairs piled in no particular order and what looked like the remains of yet more of the dead. I counted four as I got closer. This time, they were crewmembers in their blue flight suit uniforms. Continuing to listen, I realized this was a barricade as evidenced by the liberal spread of laser marks and bullet holes. I checked the crewmembers’ four handguns—apparently their only weapons—and found not a single round remained. Same in the magazines on the floor. Same in their pockets and equipment belts. Whoever they were fighting had simply waited until they were out of ammo. It must have been a desperate situation to make a last stand with handguns behind some upturned tables and chairs.
    Not for the first time, I wondered who was fighting who. Crew versus marines? A split based on national lines? Or something else completely? What could have happened to have started such violence? One of the things we’d learned during training was how human conflict presented the biggest challenge for long-term space missions. The mission designers thought they’d solved it by having a spacious, well-equipped ship that could double as an orbital command when we arrived. That and the fact that everyone would be in stasis for most of the journey also helped. My stomach growled, reminding me I had a limited fuel supply and, therefore, a time limit before I’d need sustenance. I had to keep moving.
    The double doors to the stairwell stood just past the barricade on the right-hand side. One of the two sliding halves was open and this time there was no bulge, no signs of explosion or fire, only a few pockmarks from stray rounds. I set about sidestepping through the gap between the tables in the barricade, knocking over a chair which came clattering to the ground. I cleared the barricade and observed that further along, just fifteen feet from the link tunnel, a set of double doors were wide open on the right—perhaps a lab or conference room. And that’s when I heard the faint whirring noise emanating from the same open room. Once more I froze, but this time the noise continued, definite enough to reassure me that my mind wasn’t tricking me. It grew louder and more familiar—the sound of electric servos—the sound of what came marching thirty feet in front of me. The metallic humanoid form of a security droid.
    In the moments before it clocked me, I couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad turn of events.
    Then the droid turned with its handgun raised, its body in a firing position.
    Its commanding, synthetic voice called out, “Surrender now. Lay down your weapons. Mutiny is a felony offense!”
    I said, “Okay, I surrender! I’m reaching for my gun, then I’m gonna lay it down on the deck Okay with that?”
    The bot stood still and repeated, “Surrender now. Lay down your weapons. Mutiny is a felony offense!”
    Not a good sign. I picked out the handgun from my fleece pocket, holding it by the barrel, crouching down then laying it on the ground. I got up but didn’t kick it away.
    With my hands raised, I said, “I’ve laid down my weapon. I surrender. Lower your gun security droid.”
    “Surrender now. Lay down your weapons. Mutiny is a felony offense!” came the