Tribulation (the introduction)

by JC Borch

Introduction part 1: Difficult Beginnings

How can you begin a story with neither a start nor an end? It wasn’t easy for me, but I’ve had a lot of time to think and I believe I’m finally ready to tell my story. I have no idea what will happen to this diary from this point, but if you are reading it, please do not dismiss it as the ramblings of a doped mind. My pills ran out hours ago and I am coming down little by little. I am writing this with a clear mind, perhaps clearer than I have had it in years. Hindsight will do that to man.

Before we begin, why don’t I start with a little introduction? Nothing much to say about me, but my name is Lars Leland. Although I’m short, I’m also fairly strong and I keep my blonde hair short. I was head of security on a spaceship a long, long way away from Earth, our mission: to test the survivability of man in space. Suffice to say that things did not go entirely as planned. Where I am now is not where we start out. And my thawing went so smoothly.

TRIBULATION INTRODUCTION 1: DIFFICULT BEGINNINGS

He awoke slowly by the sound of tapping fingers on glass. He had slowly been waking up the last few days, dreams eluding him and sensation returning to his limbs. The lid slipped open and the world returned to him in a haze with a muffled, echoing sound, but that was to be expected. After all, he had been asleep for so long, lying in a white metal pod with only a small window above his face for his lifeless eyes to study the ceiling. Slowly, the face of the man who had been so nervously rapping on his little chamber came into focus, a man he would recognise anywhere.

“Dammit, Lars, don’t ever make me that nervous again!” The voice was still distorted somewhat and the ringing in his ears didn’t make it any better. His throat was hoarse but he still heard himself speak.

“You know I was scheduled to wake a week after you, Ulrich.” Lars grabbed around the edges of his small compartment and heaved himself up, but Ulrich took him under an arm and helped him out on his feet. He was in his own quarters, a small red room of some metal. The sleeping pod stood opposite the entrance, a desk on the right side and a drawer for any personal effects on the left. An opening next to the drawers led to his private bedroom.

“Oh yeah... guess I forgot,” Ulrich replied and chuckled. He was a tall man with long limbs and a face full of sturdy red hair; a bushy beard and shoulder-length hair with a bald crown. Unlike Lars, Ulrich was a cheerful man who always smiled and took things lightly. He had a quick wit and was always dependable.

“Perhaps if you took things seriously for a change,” but Lars’ voice failed him and choked in his throat. Being frozen for so long had made him stiff and standing up made him dizzy and nauseous.

“You’re lucky, old buddy. I was the first to awake, ain’t no one there to help me. Had to crawl my way on all fours to the medical bay,” Ulrich said and assisted his friend through the room and out into the hall that ran like a metallic tube through the ship and connected the various rooms. Lars and Ulrich had been lucky enough to get their own rooms placed conveniently close to the sickroom. The rest of the security team slept in large dormitories with only a chest to call their own.

Ulrich was dressed in a deep purple one piece suit with black metal boots, which only made Lars realise he himself was naked. His left arm was slung across the shoulder of his friend, but managed to examine his face with the other. Everything was still there and his cheeks and chin were still smooth. His blonde hair had not grown either and was relatively short.

Lars blacked out for a second and found himself parked on a chair, where he spent the next minute getting his bearings again. It was just a small consultation room made of the same nondescript metal with a coating of red paint. The room was decorated like his own with the addition of the chair he was sitting on next to the desk, a large medical cabinet and some holo-posters with diagrams of the human anatomy. Ulrich emerged from an adjacent room opposite the desk with a cup of foaming, sizzling water and placed it on the table next to Lars.

“Drink. It’ll wash the antifreeze right out of your system and clear your head,” Lars said and peered down at his friend, to see if everything was all right.

Lars grabbed around the glass, shivering, and spilled the liquid all over himself on his hand’s way to his mouth. He managed to get enough inside to satisfy his friend, who gave him a smile and a light pad on the shoulder. “Didn’t expect it to be this bad, did you? It gets worse. Once you start feeling okay, your body will have some uh... residual waste to be disposed of. I would find the toilet now if I were you.”

There hadn’t been much time to inspect the ship apart from drawings. It had been assembled out in space and the various parts had been sent to a temporary docking station and there assembled. He, along with Ulrich and the rest of the security force, had been among the first to arrive, followed by the scientists and maintenance crew. The cryostasis had commenced shortly after their first round of inspection.

Lars got up from his seat and shuffled back to his room. His legs no longer felt like leaden weights, so the stuff he had drunk must be working. Now, however, it felt like his stomach was on fire, spreading out through his limbs and into his head.

He went back into the corridor and saw his room just down to the left. He placed a hand on the door which promptly vanished. It wasn’t real, nothing more than a force field designed to resemble a door. The same was true for the door into his bathroom. It was equipped with a bucket-like instrument, the toilet, and a small compartment, the shower, for his convenience. A spare set of clothes had been placed on the floor.

Lars returned to the medical bay about an hour later, visibly paler, but walking straighter and with the exalted gait of a man in his position. He too was now dressed in boots and one-piece like Ulrich, except Lars’ uniform bore an emblem identifying him as captain of the security force. Ulrich had taken his seat and was examining one of the holo-posters which he had taken off the wall.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Ulrich asked and got up on his feet, but Lars turned noticeably green upon the request.

“I’d prefer it if we could do the rounds now,” Lars replied in his best business tone.

“Just woke up after three years and the man already wants to do his duty,” Ulrich said and threw an arm around his friend.

“I was chosen for my position for a reason, Ulrich.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Come along then, if you insist.”

Ulrich took the lead with Lars following just behind, taking him down the hall and away from their living quarters. The other members of the security force, also dressed in purple liveries and black boots, greeted him as they passed the various dormitories and mess halls and Lars made sure to show his respect and greet them back, every one of the fifty members on his staff.

It took them some time, understandably, before arriving at their destination. The hallway ended abruptly into a dead-end where nothing but a large silver orb had been pressed into an indentation in the wall.

“Bio-dome 01,” Ulrich said and a hatch opened in the silver bubble. He gave the “After you” gesture and Lars entered the silver ball and sat down on a bench, Ulrich taking a seat opposite him. The hatch closed and the inside filled up with white foam that pressed them up against the sides.

The silver bubble took off in a bright flash that rocketed it forward at a tremendous speed. The spaceship consisted of kilometres after kilometres of tunnels and halls and rooms, with several layers up and above, so this was something like an elevator, just sideways. Bubbles like these tumbled through the ship at extreme speeds through the small subways hidden deep beneath the ship with several exits all over the place.

It would have taken them hours to walk the distance, but with this curious mode of transportation, they arrived only minutes later. The foam that filled the bubble was shock absorbent and they barely even noticed how violently they moved or even that they had ceased to move. The foam was sucked back into walls of the metal ball and the door opened again. Both men stumbled out, like they had just been sitting in a rollercoaster.

“After such a long time, you’d think they’d have found some better way to get around,” Ulrich said and cracked his back.

“You know what they say: don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Lars said and came out behind Ulrich.

They were once more in a hall similar to the one they had come from, except the colour scheme here was blue. A nifty way to differentiate the different parts of the ship, which could otherwise get confusing when everything was so similarly built. For extra clarification, a holo-sign just above the bubble announced clearly that they were now in Bio-dome 01. Or rather, the hall leading there.

“Loosen up, mate. Ain’t no one here to tell you what to do,” Ulrich said as they started down the hall.

“I’ll remind you that I am the highest authority here. I need to set an example, something that I trust you did in my absence. I just hope your lax attitude hasn’t demoralised the entire crew in the past week,” Lars said unassumingly.

“You never change, do you, Lars?”

“The fate of Earth rests upon our shoulders. You’ll have to excuse me if I withhold my enthusiasm.”

“Yes, yes, Mr Captain,” Ulrich said and waved his hand. “Bio-dome 01 is running as expected and the thawing of everyone went according to plan. As for the project, well... you’ll see when we get there.”

They passed a lot of doors on their way, leading to dormitories and dining rooms, among other things, for the scientists. The corridor ended out in a small lobby that doubled as an observation deck with bathroom on the right and office on the left. A large window opposite the entrance allowed for a view of the dome, all of which was crawling with plants and trees of all shapes and sizes.

A scientist dressed in white shoes, blue jeans and a white coat came out of the office to greet them when he heard them coming. He had long curly brown hair and smiled.

“Good to see our security chief awake again. I tried to tell your friend here to stop worrying, that you weren’t scheduled to wake for another week,” he said and shook Lars’ hand.

“Pleasure meeting you again as well, Dr James,” said Lars and nodded slightly in reverence.

“Please, just call me Ronnie. I’m not a god, you know?” the scientist said humbly. “Although I do admit that the things we’ve accomplished here is nothing short of divine. Just take a look down there”

Ronnie led them over to the window and threw an arm into the air. Lars came up beside him, and he could see what Ronnie meant. Everything looked small from up here, but Lars could see that the ground was covered in grass and trees and bushes. The area was enormous and seemed almost like a wildlife park, except there were only plants and vegetation here.

Androids, built slightly larger than humans and with visible metal skin, did the chores down there while humans in white lab coats went around and checked that everything was running as planned.

A shining red apple lay on a table just under the window, and Ronnie handed it to Lars. His stomach was slowly settling down and he began to feel unmistakable pangs of hunger. He had eaten a large meal before he was frozen to keep his minimal bodily activity working, but that was long gone by now. He bit into the apple and his face immediately assumed a grimace.

“Bleargh,” he said, forgetting his official manners for just a second. “This tastes nothing like an apple, you know?”

“That’s because we can only grow so many things here,” Ronnie said with a smile. “All the vitamins and nutrition have to be received by a smaller variable of food items, so we developed apples that would be extra healthy and doubly satiating.”

Lars gave the apple a disappointed look and put it down on the table again. “Please tell me at least that Bio-dome 02 was a success as well.”

“Well why don’t we go take a look?” Ulrich said. He was still standing in the doorway, grinning broadly at his friend’s reaction.

Bio-dome 02, as opposed to 01, was a large glass dome designed to test the prospect of having animals in space, in particular ones that could be used for eating and wearing. Pigs and cows roamed on an enormous area with plenty of grass and water, and androids ensured optimal conditions for the livestock in the absence of humans. Various small houses had been established here for observation and slaughter alike, everything they needed to get the hides or meat or milk from the animals living here.

They arrived by bubble to this dome as well. The hall was similar to the previous dome’s with doors on all sides leading to the recreational areas dormitories. Likewise, the layout of the lobby was identical as well with toiletries on the right, office on the left and window right in front. The area here just had a green paint scheme with green walls.

The head scientist for this project didn’t exactly have a welcoming aura about him. He simply stood before the window overlooking his project, looking up at the see-through ceiling, his gaze lost in the stars beyond. He didn’t even turn around to greet them, but Lars could see that he was a tall man with long silky black hair and purple-tinted glasses perched on his nose.

“Head of security, Captain Lars Leland, checking in for a report,” Lars said. The scientist slowly pried his head away and turned to look at him.

“John Osborne, head farmer around here,” he said in a tired voice. “The animals have been left alone for three years but do not display any significant signs of going feral. Must be the contact with the stand-ins”

“In other words, everything here is just peachy,” Ulrich said and came up on Lars’ right.

“No, everything’s bloody well not peachy,” Osborne said and looked at Ulrich. “We have far fewer chickens than we should have, everything taking into account. The survivors show no sign of disease, and we can’t seem to locate the corpses. Not to mention someone’s been eating our provisions”

“Do you have any idea why?” Lars asked concerned.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation!” Ulrich said. “I mean, they are the smallest in the chain around.”

“Are you suggesting the cows ate the chicken? And what about the stored food?” Osborne asked and gave Ulrich an incredulous stare.

“Well... perhaps not cows, but -”

“Humans,” Lars said and finished Ulrich’s sentence. They all fell silent for a moment to contemplate the ramifications of such a prospect. “But we’ve only been awake for a week by now, so it could only have been someone from your staff doing some unauthorised population regulation,” Lars said in a tone to suppress the matter. He was, after all, the captain of security and any failures in keeping anyone or anything safe around here would be his responsibility.

“I trust my people as I would my children. There must be a stowaway on board,” Osborne said detachedly.

“Now listen here,” Lars said, his voice rising in volume from anger. “We swept the entire ship before departure, and all transport ships were thoroughly screened. There’s no way anyone could have snuck into the ship.”

Ulrich placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Mr Osborne, we’ll be sure to go the whole ship through, but I can guarantee that there is no one on board who shouldn’t be.”

Osborne looked first at Ulrich, then at Lars with his purple glasses, before deciding that there was nothing to be gained from pursuing the subject further and returned to the heavens with his skywards glance. Lars was feeling hot under the collar but knew better than to antagonise the people he was supposed to protect. He turned around and walked as dignified as he could muster with Ulrich catching up to him.

“What the Hell, man? You’re as uptight as ever,” Ulrich said in an unpleasantly surprised tone. He was right, of course, and Lars took a deep breath to regain his posture.

“I want a full status report ASAP, you hear? I want to know about every little crack, every little complaint, I don’t care, big or small, have it on my desk by the end of the week.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Ulrich responded and gave a half-hearted gesture. “Why don’t we have a drink together once I’ve assembled the men?”

“This ship has been abandoned for three years until one week ago, with only robots to do the maintenance,” Lars said, his knuckles whitening from clenching his fists so tight. “You and I will help check the rest of the domes and the cargo hold and the machine room. I want a full inspection and every available man out and about. If there is indeed a stowaway on my ship, then I want him found.”

Ulrich grunted in dismay but relayed the orders to the men via a little green button stuck to his neck. The ship had never seen so much activity since its construction was completed. The purple-clad officers of security were busy scouring every inch and every surface for possible hideouts and all crates and barrels were tested.

The stress was getting to Lars who only had a bite of an apple to eat since he awoke from his long slumber. He was beginning to feel some after-effects from the extended sleep and he was sweating and panting as if feverish by the time they reached the cargo hold. His vision was swimming and he could only stand with the help of a crate. Fortunately, one of the men had brought a food bar which he accepted. It helped him regain at least some of balance.

The cargo bay was a small area at the bottom of the ship which warranted its position as the last to be checked. The walls were unpainted here and displayed the grey metallic colour all the walls would have underneath their coating. Metal crates were stacked high towards the ceiling right from when you got off the bubble and it was a maze navigating between them. Someone could easily have hid here, were it not for the security system. Via cameras in the ceiling, one could easily get an overlook of the area from a monitor on the wall. Robots not only patrolled here, they were also designed to pick up crates and bring them to the front of the room.

A few hours had gone by at this point and everyone on board the PC Mournheld had been checked. No one out of the 206 man crew was missing, no additional individuals had turned up and no imposters had been discovered. Lars was satisfied, if a little tired, with how effective his unit was and he was relieved to find no illegals. Still, if the chickens had been slaughtered and the provisions eaten not by an outside force, it could only have been one from the staff. He decided to shake it off and leave that speculation for when he felt better. Now he just wanted to check out and get some rest.

It was just then that had he saw something pink flutter just outside of the periphery of his vision. He had thought at first it must’ve been someone’s uniform, but when he saw it again, it resembled cotton candy. He blinked, and it was gone in between the crates. He looked around but no one else looked like they had seen anything.

He excused himself from the search party and went the maze. No one had bothered going deep into the room when it was all displayed on the screen, but he kept seeing that pink fluffy thing wiggling at him. Every time he rounded a corner, there it was again at the end, going down another corridor between the boxes and crates. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly that he was seeing, but it was like bait on a hook to a fish. In the end, however, nothing was caught; neither Lars nor the thing he had thought he had seen. He ended his fruitless endeavour in a dead end.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Ulrich asked. Lars looked around for a moment, hopeful that his second in command had followed him and seen it too, but he was just speaking through the green button on the inside of his collar.

“Just thought I saw something,” Lars mumbled. Whatever he had seen, it had disappeared again.

“Well you better come back out of there. Stand back, I’m sending a robot in there to pick you up”

An oversized black trash can soon hovered in between the spaces between metal crates and metal ceiling and scooped him up in its retractable arms and carried him back to the bubble. The rest of the team had disbanded and only Ulrich was left waiting for him.

“Find anything?” Ulrich asked with his arms in his sides.

“No. Just my overworked mind playing tricks on me,” Lars said as the robot released him. “I think I better call it a night for now”

***

He had gotten something to eat, a delicious meal consisting of meat sauce and pasta with cheese and a glass of water, and was now sitting by his desk, relaxing and trying to gather his thoughts. He was tired, exhausted even, but he had just eaten and wanted to digest it first. His dreams would always drift far away into the lands of the unimaginable if he slept on too full a stomach.

He took the green button from his collar, twisted the ends and pulled them apart to reveal a green cylinder. The design had not changed in a long time, but the improved material had allowed for better storage and durability. Another twist of the ends revealed both a screen and a keyboard. Lars placed it on his desk and closed his eyes, his fingers hovering on the light keys. What would you tell yourself and where would you start?

16 days, 3 months and 1,986 years after the war (16 February 4072 AD)
My name is Lars Leland, head of security aboard the PC Mournheld. I, along with my oldest friend and second-in-command, Ulrich Pendragon, must ensure the safety of everyone here, from the mechanics to the scientists. We’re only fifty security officers, us included, but it should be sufficient for the task that lies ahead of us, a grave one indeed.

We are testing the chances of colonising space, since Earth will soon be uninhabitable. A strange disease called the Crimson Plague has begun to spread, at first killing the weak and the old. Vaccines with a 0.05% success rate are all that we have accomplished in the past century and we have no choice but to look at the stars. I’ve left my wife Charlotte and my newborn daughter Diane for man’s last-ditch attempt at survival. It’s taken forty years and just as many billion dollars to make, but this is it; the final collaborations between the five nations of the world.

“You’re actually doing this?” Ulrich said from behind Lars. He had not even heard him come in. “Kinda gloomy.”

“The therapist ordered us to do this, remember?” Lars said. “I hope you’re working on yours as well; you know how pissed Doctor Burton can get.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Ulrich said and waved his hand to dismiss the matter. “Speaking of doctors, did you check in with Wendy yet?”

“I’m not feeling it today. I’m still a little woozy, but I’ll do it tomorrow,” Lars responded and tried to sound like nothing was wrong. He decided that that had to be enough writing for the day, so he folded the computer back into a button and re-attached it to his collar.

“I know you always push your health back in the queue, but you just awoke from an extended cryostasis. A little check-up wouldn’t hurt,” Ulrich said. “Well, you’d best get some sleep then and make it your first priority when you awake”

“What’s the time down on Earth?” Lars asked and got up from his seat.

“Why, it’s... around 9 in the evening,” Ulrich responded.

“Wake me bright and early then. I’m not sure I trust this little thing to do the job,” Lars said, referring to the computer button, and went over to his pod. It was designed to sustain life under low temperatures, but was comfortable enough to double as an ordinary bed.

“I’m not your damn maid, just attach it your neck!” Ulrich said jovially.

“Nah, it always makes me itch. Just around seven, if you please.” He went inside the chamber and closed the hatch. That was the end of that discussion.

He couldn’t remember having had a dream for all his time asleep, so he was looking forward to his first one in three years. He was back on earth again with his family; Charlotte with her orange curly hair and Diane with shoulder-length blonde hair. In his mind, he lived through the life he could have had, watching his daughter grow up and giving her a brother to play with.

It wasn’t something he was willing to wake up from. He tried desperately to clutch at the dream, even as his name reverberated throughout the halls of his mind. It was not the voice of his wife or of his children nor even that of Ulrich, but the voice of a man he faintly remembered from his security team. Lars squinted and stared up into the face of a man older than himself, a man with curly black hair. He had a surly and not all too sober grimace.

“Captain... Lars Leland, please wake up sir,” the man insisted. He had already opened the hatch and decided to shake Lars back among the living. He tried to push away the stench of alcohol and the wrinkly features, but he was back on the Mournheld. There was no going back from here.

“What do you want, Gary?” Lars said and rubbed his eyes.

“There’s been a murder, sir.”

It took Lars a few moments to realise what Gary had said. He still felt drowsy and heavy in his head. Postponing his doctor’s appointment might not have been such a good idea, and neither was sitting bolt upright. Stars twinkled before his eyes for a moment and he grabbed his head, trying to get in control of his vision once more.

“You all right, sir?” Gary asked concernedly and held his superior office by the shoulders.

“There’s been a murder?” Lars asked to see if he had heard right, not wanting to bother going into the details of how badly he felt right now.

“Yes, sir. Doctor Burton, the therapist.”

“Lead the way, soldier,” Lars said and crept out of his pod with a little help from Gary. Once he was safely down, Lars grabbed a hold of Gary’s shoulder with his left hand and clutched his head with the right.

“You sure you should be standing?” Gary asked.

“It’s nothing, just a slight headache from waking up,” Lars replied.

“Well, Doctor Williamson is already on the scene along with some of the security officers. I’m sure she has something for your headache.”

Lars assured himself it was just cryostasis fatigue and nothing more serious. There was one thing he knew it could be, but he did not want to contemplate such an option. Fortunately, Dr Burton’s office was placed in the same sector as the security force, further down on the left from Lars’ room. It would probably be unwise to use that gut-wrenching bubble for transport in his condition. Still, the corridor had chosen to bounce all over the place.

“Is Ulrich there?” Lars asked, once he made sure opening his mouth wouldn’t make him spill the contents of his stomach.

“No sir, SIC Ulrich has not responded to our calls. We suspect he might be off eating somewhere.”

“Heh,” Lars said and chuckled weakly to himself. “That sounds like him. So, why did they make you go fetch me?”

Gary didn’t respond at first and looked away. “I was having a drink with Doctor Burton just prior to his demise.”

“For God’s sake Gary, I didn’t bring you here so you could get drunk off your ass.” The sudden agitation upset his stomach which forced him to play it cool for now.

“And I told you not to bring me. Being locked away in this giant tin box millions of miles away from home... it doesn’t sit right with me. Doctor Burton recommended I’d have a drink with him if I promised only to do it in his presence,” Gary replied defensively.

“I brought you because you were a fine soldier, Gary, and you still are. Anyone but me would have fired you a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t let you down again.”

That was not the first time Gary had said that, and it wouldn’t be the last. Lars wanted to say something along those lines, but his vision and his limbs completely failed him now. He fell forward into the black, painful void of nothingness and drifted on a sea of stabbing, searing needles for what seemed like an eternity of agony.

When he regained consciousness, it was at least to the beautiful face of Doctor Wendy Williamson. Her white hair, smooth as silk, drifted down her shoulders and accentuated the feminine grace about her that was quickly lost in her mannerisms and speech. She was dressed in the white coats of the scientists, opened to reveal a blue top that showed much of her ample cleavage.

“Feeling better?” she asked and took a step back when she had assured that he was coming around again.

He felt sticky around his mouth where fresh vomit still lingered, he felt his head ache slightly less worse and he felt like his hands and feet had been filled with lead. He took a look around him, not sure where he was. The light from overhead consumed his tired vision and only Wendy stood out clearly enough for him to discern.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said and wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, you stupid git?” Wendy asked angrily.

“About?” Lars asked innocently, unsure what she could possibly mean.

“You have the Crimson Plague!”

He clambered up on his feet with the wall as support, slowly getting his bearings again. “I would have missed my chance on going on this mission if I had told anyone. Besides, it’s no big deal. It only kills the weak and the old, right?”

“That’s not the problem here!” she said, half-shouting and stomping her feet in anger. “The very reason we’re up here is because of that disease!”

“It can’t transfer from humans to humans though,” he replied in defence.

“Did you even consider for a moment what would happen if you died?” she asked angrily. He looked at her mournfully, and she began to understand. “So that’s it. You didn’t want your family to know you were ill, so you travelled away from them... Oh you incredibly foolish idiot!”

“Ulrich can easily take over my duties in the worst case scenario. Just lay it on me straight,” Lars said and took to his head. It was still pounding slightly, but he was definitely nowhere near collapsing again.

He could also see now that he was leaning up against a holo-poster of bass. He had been brought to an office of some sort, a somewhat small but homely room with a desk opposite the door where a computer and a small statuette of a war hero stood. Whoever lived here had been a music lover, and beside the poster of a bass, that someone also had one of a guitar on the left side of the door.

“Your time sleeping awakened the disease to an extent. Your young age, however, means that your body is fighting it with all that it has. You could experience more blackouts like that one if you get your blood pressure too high. You should change these patches weekly for a month and then take one whenever you feel the floor disappearing.”

Lars accepted a small roll of what looked like band-aid. He could already feel one attached to his neck, and the instant desire to scratch it off.

“Any chance I could get that in pill form?” he asked.

“We abandoned pills for a reason,” she said affronted and gave him a frown.

“Sorry. I’ve just never gotten used to have things applied to my skin,” he said and subconsciously began to scratch at the patch. She slapped him hard on his hand.

“I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps you’d be interested in the murder that happened?”

He had almost put that out of his mind completely and when Wendy stepped aside, he saw that he had been brought to the office of Dr Burton. Various musical knickknack and assorted memorabilia had been spread out over the floor and the bookcase they had been standing on had been toppled over.

Burton himself was now lying underneath it; only his face, feet and hands visible. His torso and lower body, on the other hand, had been squished underneath the heavy metal frame and it looked like he had died quite painfully. There was surprisingly little blood at the scene, most of it pooled under his head and matting his long curly blonde hair. He was a young man, late twenties if memory served Lars right. This was no way for anyone to go.

“What happened here?” Lars asked and went over to the bookcase, careful not to step on any of the figurines or shards of pottery. “An accident?”

“Well, I haven’t been able to examine the body yet since I need you to release the scene,” Wendy said and came up behind him. “I can safely say though that this poor man was murdered.”

“What makes you so sure?” Lars asked and squatted down next to Dr Burton. He stared back at Lars with lifeless eyes.

“He suffered a blow to the head shortly before his fateful encounter with the bookshelf here. Moreover, all furniture here is securely fastened to walls and floor. Someone would have to remove or destroy the bolting before any bookcase tipping could be done,” Wendy said and shoved her hands into her pockets.

Lars got up again and examined the back plate of the murder weapon. The ending of two metal rods poked out, and the wall they had been placed in still contained their holders. Someone had taken something like a small thermal lance and wedged it behind the shelves and severed them. A small thermal lance or an energy weapon cranked up to full intensity. Why go to this length, though? If the killer had the opportunity to whack Dr Burton over the head and had access to tools or weapons, why the bookcase? A symbolic meaning perhaps?

“What could drive someone to kill in this way?” Lars asked and touched the rods. They had been crudely melted, but were smooth at the ends.

“Hard to say. Perhaps I’ll know more once I get him on my slab.”

“Well, you’re welcome to take him off my hands.”

She called to the guards that was posted outside the doors and two people in deep purple suits marched in and helped lift the heavy bookcase right side up again. Doctor Burton was not a pretty sight anymore and a small figurine was lodged near his sternum. Plenty of other trinkets were sprawled over his abdomen and all around him, some of them compressed against him by the shelves and the frame.

“I had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary,” Wendy said as she watched the officers lift the corpse up on a small trolley. Lars went over to the desk to give them space. “16 years with healthy people in perfect condition and no deaths is not too much to ask, is it?”

“I... can’t say, Dr Williamson. I want the report on him when you’re done. And check if he was inebriated prior to his death.”

“Yes, I heard he might have been drinking with one of your men.”

“Exactly.”

Wendy nodded and walked with the men out of the room, leaving Lars alone with a small pool of blood. A young officer, who had been politely waiting outside, entered when she was sure Lars was done with the examination and now stood where Lars had been sitting, hands closely knitted in front of her. She had a tall, slim face with long, black hair down her uniform. She jumped slightly when Lars addressed her and quickly flustered to assume the appropriate gesture of fist under chin.

“At ease, soldier,” he said, humoured by how intimidated she was of his status. “You were first on scene?”

“Y-yes sir!” she said excited and stood rigid in her position, starring off into the distance, forgetting she had been ordered to stand at ease.

“I expect your statement to be on my computer before day’s over, Kim.”

She was young, perhaps one of his youngest officers on board, but she had showed great promise. Her performance anxiety must have compelled her to come speak with Dr Burton, only to find him crushed on the floor. She was taking it relatively well, although she was shaking quite badly. She was not one to forget protocols like a certain second-in-command, so it would be safe to leave her in the room without reminding her of her duties to oversee the cleaning.

Lars wasn’t ready to leave the case and sit around waiting for the reports just yet. He was a hands-on kind of man and had always wanted to do the work for himself. Many others in his position acted only as supervisors and allowed their inferior officers to do all the work, as they were rightfully entitled to. But Lars wanted to make sure whether this was murder or not, and there was only one who could assuage his doubts.

A throng of people had gathered outside the therapist’s room, some of them the mechanics employed here. He especially recognised a tall dark man with a small dense afro of black hair standing in front of a ragged group of rough-looking people, all dressed in yellow jackets and black pants. Their yellow headquarters was located at the other end of the ship so they had come a long way for a murder.

“Hey copper, I heard there’s been a murder,” the dark-skinned man said.

“I can’t confirm or deny that at the moment, Phil. I need to know if the furniture here could get loose on its own”

“Man, what is this?” Phil said and threw his arms in the air. The people behind him chuckled. “You trying to blame us? Think it’s impressive you know the names of all the people onboard?”

“Just answer the question,” Lars said a little firmer than he cared for. He always had trouble keeping his temper in check, but he tried his best.

“No,” Phil answered curtly. “Me and the boys went over every inch of this place to make sure everything was in order. If anyone could have killed the therapist, it would be one of you guys.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Lars asked in a threatening tone. The two men were having a fight with their eyes, to see whose stare was the deadliest. A small crowd was forming around them, not just mechanics, but scientists as well, all curious what the raised voices were about.

“You’re the guys with the guns, with the training. You know how to kill, and you know how to cover it up.” The men around Phil shared his hard stare. They were all thinking the same, and the people milling around them began as well.

“I might be a soldier, son, but that doesn’t mean I’m accustomed to killing.” Lars voice was getting dangerously loud and threatening. “You think you know how it’s like to kill someone till you actually do. The regret will gnaw at you in your dreams and the guilt will stab you when you’re awake. It’s never enough to just pull the trigger. You have to make up with yourself why this person has to die and you have to live. Not even a beast kills for the kill itself.”

“Lars... Lars, goddammit, calm down.” A pair arms came from behind him and up under his armpits. He had been just moments away from totally flying off the handle had it not been for his old buddy, Ulrich. People were giving him strange glances, and he flushed at the embarrassment. He pushed his way through the mob with Ulrich just in his heels.

***

“What was that all about?” Ulrich asked when they finally settled down in the canteen. Lars had not said a single word during the whole trip and had stormed off several paces ahead of his friend. He had shut everything off to get his emotions, and thoughts, under control.

“If you had come to the scene as you should, you would know,” Lars said and poked his mashed potato unenthusiastically. He was starved, but his concentration lost. “There’s been a death only a week after we woke up and now everyone thinks it’s the work of the security force.”

“Let them,” Ulrich said in a casual tone. “They’re still a little paranoid from the scare you gave them yesterday. We didn’t find a stowaway, so it couldn’t be a murder. The bookcase couldn’t have toppled over its own, so it can’t be accident. Just leaves suicide. A young man realises he’ll never get back to Earth, and rather than be trapped up in space forever, he does something irrational and offs himself. Case closed.”

Lars gave him a disbelieving glance. Ulrich would hopefully change his opinion once he found out the details of the death. “And where were you?” Lars asked with his mouth full of potato, pointing his fork accusingly at Ulrich.

“Ah, we experienced some turbulence earlier so I cut myself rather badly while shaving. See?” There certainly was a deep red gash along his left cheek. Both of them were now clean and smooth which left only a circle of red hair around his mouth and a tuft on his chin.

“Turbulence? We should be in a relatively safe part of space,” Lars said and lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, the eggheads said they might have found a miniature black hole not far from our position.”

Lars snorted. “A miniature black hole? Why would the scientists down on Earth plot a course that would lead us near a black hole?”

“Well it IS called black for a reason, Lars. Relax, it’s too small to harm us directly. We’re just experiencing some pulse waves or space debris or something.”

“Hm. Just be more careful, Ulrich, all right? I doubt Dr Burton committed suicide, but we still have someone out there who slaughtered all the chicken and ate of our storage. I need all my men in fighting condition. Don’t go slicing your own throat”

***

I have not been writing in my diary for a month now. The death of Dr Burton discouraged me somewhat, but recent incidents have made me question my own sanity. The Crimson Plague kills by draining the victim’s strength until you’re too tired to do anything but wither and die. Hallucinations have not been described as a symptom yet and what I have seen is too bizarre to be real. Maybe if I write down my thoughts I’ll see how bad my condition really is.

Lars was humming to himself as he strolled around the kitchen. He was in a good mood today. Not a single death for a whole month and he could finally stop wearing those god-awful patches. It had been Hell to keep himself from scratching AND he now had a whole jar full of pills in a pocket under his one-piece uniform. It was time to celebrate in the best manner possible; baking.

All you had to do was to take a cup of flour and add it to the mix. Now just take a little something sweet, not sour and.... something else. He wasn’t even sure where he had picked that song up, but it was a silly little melody that fitted his mood perfectly.

The kitchen in the security section canteen was, like all other canteens in the ship, separated from the sitting area by a low wall where people would grab their meal and then go back to their seat. Although the process of making food had been simplified over the years and demanded few machines to do it all, Lars was only too happy using the older tools that he was more familiar with.

It had been a while since had last baked, but he had spent most of that time frozen. It all came to him naturally, even spinning the form plate on his finger. The second batch was better than the first, and the third was simply divine. The whole kitchen was smothered with dough when he was finally done, but it was worth it. Even a head of security could allow himself a few hours of frivolous activity, especially with how quiet things were. He placed the last platter of muffins on the counter, just as Ulrich entered.

“Are you sure Butler will enjoy you using his kitchen in such a carefree manner?” he asked and chuckled as he went through the room and directly for the kitchen.

“I’ve already asked the old geezer, chum. Besides, I agreed with James and Osborne to test their latest harvest,” Lars said and wiped his brow and only managed to smear more of the thick mass all over his face. It was a good thing that he had the foresight to wear one of his old, worn uniforms.

“I didn’t know you could bake, much less muffins?” Ulrich said and took one. He chewed carefully to see if this was an attempt to poison him, but his gleeful expression told Lars that he had succeeded.

“Charlotte was always hungry for ‘em when she was pregnant and I got tired of having to go to the store in the middle of night,” Lars said and took one for himself.

“Charlotte? Your wife? But she’s always hated muffins.”

“It’s what the baby wanted. I think she got a little too round, but no arguing with a pregnant woman.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ulrich said and his cheerful expression was, for just the slightest of a moment, hidden behind a sad mask. “I’ve never been able to find me the perfect woman like you did,” he said and gave a boisterous laugh.

“Well, how about I clean up this mess and then we can go on patrol?” Lars asked.

“Why bother? I can have several of the rookies down here to do it for you.”

“Thanks, but it wouldn’t sit right with me,” Lars said and turned his attention back towards the kitchen. So many appliances, many of which he knew nothing about. To get the best taste however, you had to do it from the bottom. None of these instant meal machines where you just had to feed it the ingredients and tell it what you wanted and hey presto! The old methods did tend to leave everything everywhere, probably why Butler had been reluctant at first.

Lars was just about to grab another muffin when he paused. “We both agree this 24 plate was full, right?” Lars asked.

“Ah, probably, I didn’t notice,” Ulrich said and inspected it.

“But there are only 16 now... you ate one and I ate one, meaning that there should be 22.”

“You probably just ran out of materials on your third try and filled it up only mostly,” Ulrich said and grabbed another one of the delicious treats. Lars gave him a serious glance. “What? You don’t expect me to believe a chicken slaughterer converts to muffin stealing?”

“I guess not,” Lars said. “You know what, call on some of the men and have them clean the kitchen. If they find any traces of anyone having been here, have them call me.” Lars grabbed the plate with the remaining fifteen muffins and darted out of the room.

“Lars! How could he have stolen the muffins and left again unnoticed? Through the air vents? Are you telling me our thief is a foetus? ‘Cause that’s how small he would have had to be! Lars?”

Ulrich still wasn’t too concerned about any madmen being onboard and had dismissed the death of Dr Burton entirely as a suicide despite evidence to the contrary. He was either too trusting or.... hiding something? Lars shook his head at the notion. Ulrich was the most trustworthy man he knew after all.

Perhaps Lars was going slightly off the deep end, but if he could lure their potential stowaway out of his hiding with muffins, then so be it. The poor man was probably starving. Whoever their stowaway was, he had had the whole ship to himself for three years, stealing provisions and feeding off the animals completely unnoticed. But now his hiding places and his options for sustenance had been severely limited. If someone was hiding somewhere, he was about to go crazy from the lack of food. The rich smell of muffins must have been too good for him to resist.

The conference room had been unused for days and lay in a quiet part of the ship. Whenever Lars had something to say or when he wanted a report, he would call his men to this room to gather the troops. It was an otherwise empty room with just a long table and some chairs. The most unique feature was the rug that had been placed over the floor, something not seen otherwise on the ship.

Lars placed the tray on the table and quickly hid behind one of the chairs. It was his job to ensure the safety of everyone aboard by whatever means necessary. Even if that meant having to do some seemingly mad things like this.

He peeked over the back of the chair, hoping for some activity soon. He had to shoo one of his security boys away who was tempted enough by the muffins to enter. The man was surprised to see his captain down on his knees with only the top of his head visible and quickly left with a little grin.

Ten boring minutes went by without anything happening at all. His knees could not handle the pressure anymore and he finally gave up and leant up against the sleek metal wall. He massaged his kneecaps and closed his eyes for just a moment, enjoying the silence in his little corner of the room.

Once again, he had worked himself up an unnecessary sweat and he was doing the exact opposite of what the doctor had told him to shy away from. What was he thinking getting worked up about a few missing muffins? Honestly, he couldn’t even remember how many he had made. 24? 22? Did it even matter? He was about to call it quits when he heard someone, or something, moving the metal tray around.

He sat quietly behind the chair unable to see what was making the noise and trying intently to assess the situation. Damn. He would have heard the first signs of warning if the floors hadn’t been so thickly carpeted. He had no choice but to go down on all fours and stealthily moved across the floor and just hope that the culprit wasn’t one of his men. All he could see was a pair of grey legs and a grey body from his vantage point, clothing that was highly unusual on the spaceship. Finally the chicken slaughterer revealed himself.

The man was deeply engrossed in the muffins and ate them loudly, so it was easy for Lars to sneak around the table. He jumped up, intending to take the fellow by surprise. The surprise, however, was on him. It was not a man at all who was busily munching on his baked goods, nor a male anything at all.

Before him stood a horse, little over half his height, with its front hooves on the table and its face planted in the muffins. It gave him a surprised, cross-eyed look and Lars took a step back and fell against the wall. The world was suddenly spinning before his eyes again and he could feel another blackout coming on. He quickly fished out one of the pills and swallowed it. He was starting to hallucinate worse and worse. First flying candyfloss and now... a pony? It would all just go away in a minute once the pill had been digested, but no. The pony was still there, walking over to him with a worried expression.

She was a fine mare with a glistening grey coat, a short blonde mane with a tail in the same colour and... wings? She also had, for some reason, bubbles tattooed on her haunch. Her whole face was covered with crumbs and she looked eerily human.

“You okay, sir?” she asked a bit loudly.

“You’re... real then?” he asked, to which the mare nodded, happy to see that the man was okay. Just to confirm, he gently stroked her face. “You’re the one who ate my muffins?” She nodded again. “And did you kill our therapist as well?”

“No,” she replied and shook her head and stood, looking to both sides with a scrunchy expression.

“Do you have a name?” he asked. The pill was starting to work and for the next few minutes, Lars would be visiting la-la land. The medicine not only alleviated his symptoms, it also filled him shortly with serenity, inner peace and giddiness. In his state, he would not doubt a vision like this.

“Ditzy Doo!” she replied happily. “But all my friends just call me Derpy.”

“No kidding?” he replied and chortled. “I’m Lars Leland and I’m head of security here. Have you seen anyone suspicious onboard?”

“No,” she responded and shook her head.

“Well I can’t exactly say I have ever seen a talking horse before. Amazing,” he mused and got up on his feet again.

“Thanks for the muffins,” she said happily and placed one on top of her head. He thought for sure it would fall off quickly, but she was astoundingly well-balanced. Her smile quickly turned to worry. “I’m not really supposed to talk with anyone,” she said and turned around to leave.

“No please, tell me, where are you from? H-how did you get here?”

“I can’t talk about Ponyville either,” she replied and went out of the door. Lars quickly ran after her, but she had vanished just by turning the corner, and he bumped into Ulrich instead, nearly knocking both of them down. Lars grabbed his friends by the shoulders.

“Hey Ulrich! Did you see it? Did you see the talking pony?” he asked with a merry laughter. Lars stared at him curiously, but quickly noticed the empty tray with muffins. He smirked slightly at his friend.

“Okay, buddy, I think you’ve had enough,” Ulrich said and parked his friend on a chair inside the conference room. “Sugar and medicine obviously don’t mix.”

“What?” he replied and looked at the room. The mystery horse was gone, if she had ever been real, but the mess she had made was undeniable. “No! No, I didn’t do this! It was the pony... Ditsy Doo.”

“I’ve rarely seen you so upbeat, Lars. It’s starting to unnerve me,” Ulrich said.

He was right, Lars would never let himself go like this and his face was soon flushed with embarrassment. He must’ve gotten pretty agitated in all the excitement of meeting a speaking, winged equine. No, that had to have been another symptom, not the cause. He had come in here, eaten the muffins and then had another blackout. Or had he fallen asleep while hiding and then someone had come in and then eaten them?

“I’m fine,” Lars said and returned slowly returned to his old self. “Sorry if I made you worry, guess I got a little too carried away with baking and remembering and all. I’d better take what’s left to Ronnie; I promised him that he could taste the results.”

“Why don’t I handle that?” Ulrich said and wiped his nose with a finger. “I’m going on my route soon and I’ll be by Bio-dome 01 in ten minutes.”

“I might as well. I could do with the walk.”

Lars got up and took the tray with him as he went for the bubble. What he had seen was too absurd to be anything but a doped brain at work and he felt foolish for having actually believed what he had experienced. It was his longing for his wife and daughter, bringing back with it distressed memories, which had gotten him so excited. The pills hadn’t exactly helped either.

The bumpy ride cleared up his head better than fresh air could, which was good since there wasn’t any available. He had the muffins tugged inside his uniform during the whole ride and held on to the lump for dear life. The bubble roared forth and stopped only seconds later and Lars toppled out, slightly nauseous from the ride.

He entered the office overlooking the dome and placed the platter on the table beneath the window. You could sit here and enjoy your lunch and look down at the crops and all the people and machines toiling over the demanding soil or watch as workers picked off fruit from the trees.

Ronnie was nowhere to seen. He would usually be up here, supervising from his vantage point or sampling the fruits of their labour. A half-eaten apple was still placed on the table.

“Dr James? Dr James! Ronnie?” Lars called out, but to no avail. He might have gone down into the bio-dome and then how was Lars supposed to find him? He still had another two batches of delicious treats, but he would have preferred Ronnie to taste the best of them. Leaving these muffins here was sure to attract the attention of others. Lars sighed at how bothersome this day had become and turned to leave, when he heard a slight moan on the left.

He quickly turned his head to see what could be making that sound when he noticed that the door to a side room was open. A white shoe was sticking out, still attached to its owner’s foot, somewhat hidden by the darkness inside. Lars quickly rushed into the room and turned on the lights, hoping against hope that he was not about to see what he feared he would.

The once so formidable Dr James lay on his side, dead, his hand clutching his stomach and his face contorted in pain. Lars rushed to his side and turned him on his back, but he was gone. The moan he had heard had been a slight death rattle as his good spirit left this mortal world. His fingernails had turned blue and he had foam at his mouth; couple that with his agonised expression and you would get poison. Dr James must have realised this himself and quickly entered this side room and tried to contact someone, anyone, but expired just short of reaching the table where he had placed his computer.

There was nothing Lars could do for him and he went over to the green cylinder. Ronnie had been writing down notes and expressed his thoughts when he had been interrupted. The last entry was dated only minutes ago. The apple out in the lobby must’ve been how the poison got introduced, which must mean that the culprit couldn’t be far away. Lars was closer now to catching his supposed criminal than he had ever been. He tore through the opening and sprinted into the main room, looking up and down.

The lobby was not a big room and worked mostly as an observation post. There were five doors in here. One was the entrance from which Lars had come from, and since he hadn’t encountered anyone on his way here, the perp could not have escaped. The door on the right lead to a bathroom and the one on the left was the office of Dr James. The last two doors were placed on either side of the central window and lead to scaffolding that encircled the walls which was equipped with stairs to the ground floor of the dome.

There were no one out on the catwalk, so the killer could only have escaped into the bio-dome itself, hoping to lose his pursuers amongst some of the dense foliage. Perhaps he even lived down there and had been hiding until Ronnie had found him or stumbled upon something that would lead to his discovery.

It was only minutes ago since Lars had swallowed the pill, but the calming effect was wearing off. He once again felt his anger boiling his blood as he ran down the stairs to the ground floor, hoping to see any suspicious activity from up above. The dome was enormous and he could search blindly for years without ever covering the entire area, but he could not let that deter him. He would find this blemish on his reputation, and the killer only had a few minute’s advantage. It could be any of the workers, or perhaps he had just poisoned an apple and hoped it would be brought before Ronnie’s attention.

He ran across the grass-covered ground, scanning his surroundings rapidly. Small dirt paths diverged from this central circle and snaked their ways in all directions. Lars was unsure which one to take and furiously looked the paths up and down. Some led to the trees, others to the fields. Curious gardeners and scientists, all dressed in their white lab coats, observed him with alarm. None of them were yet privy to the murder that had just occurred and were left to wonder what had riled the head of security up like this.

A large hand placed itself on his shoulder and Lars turned to see the face of his second in command.

“Whoa, easy,” Ulrich said. “What’s going on? One of the workers giving you a bad apple?”

“Something like that,” Lars replied and panted violently. He would have passed out long ago if he had not taken his medicine. “Dr James is dead,” he heaved.

“What? How! Where?”

“Poison, I think,” Lars said and wiped his mouth. “He was still fresh when I came here so I thought I might find the murderer down here.”

“Good luck. But you know, it’s weird,” Ulrich said and pondered. “I just saw Gary run away very quickly from the dome.”

“Gary? Oh God no.”

“Well, there are a lot things being produced down here that could be distilled to alcohol, with a little will and hard work. He was the last to see Dr Burton, mind you.”

“I don’t believe it,” Lars said, and together, the two went back upstairs. “Call on the security and Wendy; I want every available man on this case. Find Gary, alive, secure the premises; question the workers, the whole nine yards.”

“Of course, but what about you?” Ulrich asked nervously.

“I think I need to lie down... for just a moment or ten,” Lars panted.

We did not find Gary. I don’t know whether he’s hiding in one of the domes or somewhere in the heart of the machinery, but I have upped the security level. It was a risk I had to take, now that there was no doubt anymore of murder. The whole ship is on pins and needles and I can’t say I blame them. I refuse to believe Gary is involved in this in any way, but it sounds like he might know something. I have to find him and question him, but if I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he’s running from the real killer.