The beeping of the ship’s O2 leakage alarm echoed through the flashing red hallway. Aria limped toward the brig to interrogate the prisoners one last time. A pipe overhead cracked inward. Oxygen swirled in being sucked into the vacuum of space. Just as she turned to retreat, the security door behind her detected the new leak and closed itself. She grabbed the spinning handle, but it was futile. There was no escape but forward.

She trekked back down the hallway when the ship threw her against the wall. Another impact from the Quillian missiles meant the battle was not going well. Whatever the ammunition boys were doing to intercept the enemy’s ordinance was not working. She could not criticize them too much though, because the intelligence she rang from the prisoner was supposed to help them avoid this entire situation.

Her leg now throbbing, She pulled herself up along the wall and used the railing to shuffle forward. The brig was within the same module so it was accessible. She pushed the door open and fell inside. The air was getting thinner. Mounted on the wall next to the door were a pair of emergency respirators. She broke the glass with a little hammer and slipped the first one on. Her lungs thanked her for it.

“Hey, Miss! The air’s all flooding out! Let us out of here!” cried a Quillian prisoner in a cell. He pressed against the bars along with four others. His green skin, antenna-like ears, and black eyes always gave her the creeps.

Thank goodness he and his comrades were caged. She knew they would tear her in half with their muscular bodies if they could only get their hands on her. They had suffered greatly as prisoners under her superior officer’s sadistic eye.

“There’s nothing I can do about that. We have to wait for the repair crew to patch the leak and for this module to regain pressure.”

“How long is that going to take? At this rate, we don’t have long!”

“I don’t know. Staff is spread pretty thin. I’m not sure if any crew are nearby.”

The Quillian turned to his comrades. “Well, then open this gate and let us try to escape to another part of the ship! At least we can try!”

Aria tried to avoid eye contact.

“Come now, miss. You’ve never been nasty to us. You wouldn’t let a bunch of soldiers suffocate to death. We’re like you, just pawns in this war. Let us out and we’ll just take a ship and leave.”

Aria pulled a datapad out of her pocket. She began typing. “I’m just here to ask you one last time, what is your weapon’s trajectory equation? We can’t evade any of your missiles.”

The Quillian screamed. “This again? I told you! I don’t know! None of us know!” The others nodded. “Come on! We’re going to die in here! At least give us that other respirator!”

Aria turned toward the shattered box and then back to the Quillian. “I’ll hand you that other one if you tell me the key.”

The Quillian groaned again.

Aria sighed. “This was useless! I can’t believe I risked my life running all the way back here for nothing!” She tucked her datapad away and opened the brig’s door to leave.

“Wait!”

Aria turned back.

An older Quillian in the back of the cell, covered by a blanket, climbed to his feet. “Don’t go. I know the math. I’ll tell you if you give us the respirator.” He approached the bars. The others grumbled and pushed him back, but he struggled through them and reached the front. “Please. I just want to live through this and see my family again.”

Aria grabbed the respirator and retrieved her datapad. “Okay. Make it quick because I’m going to verify the equation before I hand this over.”

“Very well, but please be aware that something this complicated is difficult for me to translate, so I should explain it in Quillian…”

“I know Quillian well enough. Just speak.”

In his native tongue, the old man described an elaborate mathematical calculation. Aria sent it to her superior. The Quillians began to turn blue. Her datapad rang.

“Yes, sir? Understood. Thank you, sir. Oh, and what’s the ETA on the leak repair for the brig? No, I’m safe. Okay. Thank you, sir.” She ended the call.

“Well?” said the first Quillian. “Do we still need the respirator?”

Aria pulled it from the box. “Yes. Estimated time of repair is thirty minutes, but with this you’ll be fine…”

All six of them were slammed against the ceiling as a massive explosion sundered the far wall of the brig. The blackness of space reached inside and ripped all the remaining oxygen out of the room including the last respirator right out of Aria’s hand.

Aria grasped the brig’s door with white knuckles, flailing in the growing vacuum until she floated still, quietly in the silence. A chill nipped at her toes, but the emergency heating from the hallway kept her core warm. She pulled herself into the hallway. Then, she considered one respirator may be enough if she could trust them to keep passing it back and forth. And that was a big if. She turned back to discuss this agreement, but the five Quillians floating bodies were already beyond help. She was devastated.

The emergency beeping in the hallway grew louder. It became deafening. It was too much, too loud for what was expected. Something was off. The hallway began to fade away, blurring out of existence. Her body floated up and rotated onto her back. The warmth of something heavy encapsulated her like an envelope.