The Lorenz Systech Spire, though alarmingly quiet, had sustained considerably less damage than Christia's home tower.
It made sense. Even before she'd learned of Sevastopol's imminent decommission, the staff had begun to wane away, and Working Joe's were given responsibilities meant for humans, with the power to reason. The creature wasn't interested in silicon and circuitry, and he quickly learned where to find the proper quarry.
The sheep had flocked to Solomon's Habitation Tower, locked the doors and forgot about the thousands of feet of ventilation right above their heads.
"Shouldn't be daydreaming."
Christia looked up to Fitz; he tossed a few chocolate chips in his mouth. "I need you to stay sharp, for both our sakes."
The Spire may have been spared from the devastation, but nearly all the doors were locked, and the elevators were without power. After hours of coming to dead-ends and meticulous backtracking, Christia's ankle had gone from an annoying ache to a crippling, constant throb. As much as she tried to cover it, Fitz knew and decided to let her rest in a small office.
The water was almost gone; as tempting as the pears were, they both settled for the chocolate.
"If we can get into those vents near reception, we may be able to find an emergency access ladder up to Comms Control. I'll need to rewire the lobby and who knows if there's enough power to open the vents-"
"I don't know if I'll be able to climb a ladder. There has to be another way. I've lived here for ten years and still manage to get lost." Fitz sighed, sitting down on a small cabinet.
"Remember passing by Security?"
"Yes."
"I could unlock most of the doors from there, maybe even power up the elevators." Christia went to say something, then frowned.
"There were Joe's in there," She whispered, and her chest tightened with a sob. "God, we're so fucked. I'm so tired." The girl slumped against the wall. "They're probably dead."
"We'll find them," Fitz said gently, sitting beside her on the cool floor, "And we're going to figure out happened, and where that thing came from. Christia, I'll need you to help me."
"What do you mean?"
"I need to gain access to External Communications and call for help, but I think APPOLO has taken measures to cut Sevastopol off. Back in Scimed, Woods and I heard synthetic's droning on about a biohazard warning. We're being quarantined," He explained, his voice hushed and steady. "If we can't get help, then we figure out a way to recall the Joe's, and we trap that fucker somewhere on the station."
"What do you need me to do?"
His intense, amber eyes grew dark; Fitz averted her sad, saccharine stare. "I need you to keep going, if...something has happened to them, to not give up."
"I-I don't want to die here," She whimpered, and when he put an arm around her tenderly, there was nothing left to hold back her tears.
She cried into his shoulder, and he said nothing more, instead combing his fingers through her hair, gently rocking her back and forth.
And she slept deeply, for the first time in days.
No air, no air, she couldn't breathe. At long last, the frigid grasp of space had her, and it would never let go...
Christia's body jumped to life, struggling against whatever subdued her, and a voice begged her to be quiet but she couldn't breathe.
She looked around frantically; pitch black.
What happened to the lights?
"It's me, stay still! It's alright!" Fitz whispered frantically, lips pressed against her ear; his sweaty palm slipped from her mouth. "We're in trouble." He shoved the backpack into her arms. "We have to get out of here now."
"What-"
"Unidentified species."
A synthetic was close, just down the hall.
"What are you?"
Fitz grabbed her hand through the dark and lifted her up.
"It's here. Fitz, it's here!"
"We need to get to reception-"
"I'm not going out there, we have to hide!" She urged, inching over to a locker that faced the door, being careful not to open it by accident. "In this! Just...wait for it to pass!"
"If it finds us, we'll have nowhere to run, Christia!"
The hunter's deafening footsteps silenced them both. Christia slowly opened the locker and slipped inside, leaving the backpack on the floor; Fitz wordlessly followed, squeezing himself in beside her. If it'd been the slightest bit smaller, they wouldn't have fit.
Fitz closed the flimsy door, eliminating the last bit of room; every inch of their bodies touched. Christia felt the cool steel of the revolver pressing into her hip; his heartbeat pounded in her ear and became her own and then intermingled with the heavy strides closing in on their small haven.
The entrance to the room opened, triggered by motion. Christia held her breath, fingers digging into Fitz's arms.
Death had never been so close, so cruel in it's petty tortures and taunts. She'd never been so terrified.
It entered the room languidly, hissing softly all the while, tail dragging along the floor. Fitz tensed in her hands as it stormed past the locker, then doubled back, then stopped. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was doing.
Snarling, it ran from the room and jumped into a vent; Christia exhaled as it rambled through the passageway, far away from them.
"Jesus...Jesus..." Fitz sighed, trembling slightly. He pushed open the door and stepped out; the girl followed, limping out into the room. "Let's move before it comes back."
Christia nodded, taking the flashlight off her belt and flicking it on. She looked around the room, dazed.
"It...took my bag," She murmured. "Why did it take my bag?"