shattered on the concrete at his feet, sending its steaming contents in all directions. The man froze. He stared stupidly at Cait, as if expecting her to say something, to explain what was going on, but she merely shrugged.
The emergency sirens almost never sounded. Something big was going down, she realized.
The calm female voice of the automated response system sounded around them. “Attention. Please make your way to designated safe zones immediately. Repeat, please make your way to designated safe zones immediately. Bulkhead containment system will activate momentarily.”
The man in the suit blanched then turned so hurriedly that he slipped on his own coffee dregs. Discarding all attempts at maintaining dignity, he scrambled on hands and knees and disappeared quickly back inside the door to Outpost Control.
What’s going on here? Cait thought. Is it the Argoni? Are we under attack?
A bulkhead behind her slammed shut, sending a loud boom resonating throughout the corridor. Moments later, Cait heard more bulkheads in the distance doing the same, effectively compartmentalizing that section of the outpost.
As the sound receded, she became aware that the omni-device on her hip was sounding off. She snatched it up and began to read through the information that came scrolling into view.
Epidermal breach, Segment 17, Section 3.
A breach , she thought. That would explain the sirens. The outpost epidermis was a thin structure that had been constructed around the outer edge of complex, designed to offer an extra layer of protection from the harsh environment of Proc-One. “Bubble-wrap,” as some of the Optechs jokingly called it, although a compromised segment of the epidermis was no laughing matter.
She kept reading.
Immediate investigation required. Closest detected Optech: Cait Underwood. Please respond.
Segment 17 of the epidermis wasn’t far from OC, and the emergency maintenance system had flagged Cait as the most suitable candidate to respond to the crisis due to her proximity to the breach.
Her omni-device continued to flash. Please respond.
Cait hit the button to acknowledge the alert. Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but regardless, she knew this was her responsibility. She had been trained to deal with situations like this, and she wouldn’t back away from it.
A moment later, the omni-device transitioned to a map of the outpost, guiding her toward the breach.
She moved briskly past the door to Outpost Control, fragments of the broken coffee mug crunching under her boots, and then she reached the first bulkhead. She raised the omni-device to the control panel and they beeped in unison. The bulkhead light turned from red to green, then it slid upward and allowed Cait to pass. As she continued on, she heard it slam shut again as the emergency response system reasserted control.
She ran down the corridor bathed in red and yellow hazard lights as the omni-device directed her to a stairwell half-way down. She badged through again, then stomped her way up the steel checker plate steps and onto the next level.
She proceeded through the door at the top, then turned right and through the next bulkhead. She was getting close.
Up ahead, a swath of bright light lit up the corridor, and for one panicked moment, Cait wondered if this was part of the breach—that perhaps the damage had been more extensive than initially reported. Then she realized that she had simply been disoriented by her twists and turns across the levels, and that she had in fact arrived at one of the Ag-rooms.
She paused as she passed the door labeled Ag-room Three . Through the glass she saw rows of plants and small trees, the main sources of food for many who lived on Proc-One. Rather than utilize energy-hungry grow lights, she knew the Ag-rooms had been built into the outpost epidermis, their ceilings comprised of transparencies that admitted light, but which were in fact stronger than steel. The material also
The emergency sirens almost never sounded. Something big was going down, she realized.
The calm female voice of the automated response system sounded around them. “Attention. Please make your way to designated safe zones immediately. Repeat, please make your way to designated safe zones immediately. Bulkhead containment system will activate momentarily.”
The man in the suit blanched then turned so hurriedly that he slipped on his own coffee dregs. Discarding all attempts at maintaining dignity, he scrambled on hands and knees and disappeared quickly back inside the door to Outpost Control.
What’s going on here? Cait thought. Is it the Argoni? Are we under attack?
A bulkhead behind her slammed shut, sending a loud boom resonating throughout the corridor. Moments later, Cait heard more bulkheads in the distance doing the same, effectively compartmentalizing that section of the outpost.
As the sound receded, she became aware that the omni-device on her hip was sounding off. She snatched it up and began to read through the information that came scrolling into view.
Epidermal breach, Segment 17, Section 3.
A breach , she thought. That would explain the sirens. The outpost epidermis was a thin structure that had been constructed around the outer edge of complex, designed to offer an extra layer of protection from the harsh environment of Proc-One. “Bubble-wrap,” as some of the Optechs jokingly called it, although a compromised segment of the epidermis was no laughing matter.
She kept reading.
Immediate investigation required. Closest detected Optech: Cait Underwood. Please respond.
Segment 17 of the epidermis wasn’t far from OC, and the emergency maintenance system had flagged Cait as the most suitable candidate to respond to the crisis due to her proximity to the breach.
Her omni-device continued to flash. Please respond.
Cait hit the button to acknowledge the alert. Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but regardless, she knew this was her responsibility. She had been trained to deal with situations like this, and she wouldn’t back away from it.
A moment later, the omni-device transitioned to a map of the outpost, guiding her toward the breach.
She moved briskly past the door to Outpost Control, fragments of the broken coffee mug crunching under her boots, and then she reached the first bulkhead. She raised the omni-device to the control panel and they beeped in unison. The bulkhead light turned from red to green, then it slid upward and allowed Cait to pass. As she continued on, she heard it slam shut again as the emergency response system reasserted control.
She ran down the corridor bathed in red and yellow hazard lights as the omni-device directed her to a stairwell half-way down. She badged through again, then stomped her way up the steel checker plate steps and onto the next level.
She proceeded through the door at the top, then turned right and through the next bulkhead. She was getting close.
Up ahead, a swath of bright light lit up the corridor, and for one panicked moment, Cait wondered if this was part of the breach—that perhaps the damage had been more extensive than initially reported. Then she realized that she had simply been disoriented by her twists and turns across the levels, and that she had in fact arrived at one of the Ag-rooms.
She paused as she passed the door labeled Ag-room Three . Through the glass she saw rows of plants and small trees, the main sources of food for many who lived on Proc-One. Rather than utilize energy-hungry grow lights, she knew the Ag-rooms had been built into the outpost epidermis, their ceilings comprised of transparencies that admitted light, but which were in fact stronger than steel. The material also
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