PLAGUE
FIVE
There was no gravity; it was cold and it was dark. And there were corpses floating about.
Wil was fighting down the urge to vomit; it was not a good thing to throw up in one's space helmet. It was her first experience in a non-gravity environment, but she didn't think the lack of gravity was making her feel ill.
The disaster had obviously happened without warning. The crew had been taken unawares. All had died from depressurization and exposure to the vacuum of space. It had not been a pleasant death, nor instantaneous, although it had been relatively quick.
While Jack was investigating the damage to the station and shooting video, she'd been taking a census of death. She'd located eight bodies so far. The women's long hair had disturbed her and she found herself tucking the tresses in however possible to stop it from floating around their faces.
Wil was relieved to see Jack coming towards her, the exterior lights on his space suit illuminating his surroundings as well as the path ahead.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I've found eight dead people. All died from exposure. It appears that none of them had time to react to what was happening. I've been stowing their bodies as best I can."
"Yes," Jack replied. "But how are you doing?"
"I'm okay, Jack. Better now that you're here."
"Let's try to locate the ninth, do you know who it is?"
"Yes, a male. One of the shuttle payload specialists. He's French and his name is, or was, Julian Teitler."
As they moved slowly from the main living quarters module into one of the primary airlocks towards another module Jack was explaining what he'd learned, which wasn't much.
"In numerous locations there are signs of impact. There were multiple hits to the station and the shuttle. The size of the punctures seems to vary. I haven't seen any indication that what caused the punctures traveled through the station and egressed opposite from where it entered; that makes me think they weren't micro-singularities – besides The Doctor told me the Time Lords had made sure microscopic black holes weren't randomly wandering about the galaxies."
Wil had moved off a bit and was examining some storage lockers. "How are we going to get the bodies on board our ship?" she asked.
"We're not."
"Huh?"
"This is search and rescue, not a recovery mission."
"What?"
"We're not bringing the bodies back with us."
"But, Jack…"
"No, Wil. That's final."
"Jack…"
"Do you want me to spell it out? We don't have the time. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible; I don't like what I've seen and although the Sunjammer and her sails are made of stronger stuff than this station, I don't know if she'd be able to withstand…"
"JACK! SHUT THE FUCK UP."
Jack turned to stare at Wil, who was herself staring at a spacesuit suspended from a sort of free-standing rack.
"Jack, there's someone here, and I think he's alive."