The Passenger Within

She clipped a tether to the rail and crawled toward the pod.

The shell was unlike any Weyland-Yutani freight container she had handled. No serial plate. No docking brackets. The surface had been coated in something matte and rubbery that drank the work lights. A narrow band of unfamiliar seals circled the lid, each one nested inside the next like overlapping black gums.

Mara pulled a cargo brace from the wall rack and jammed it beneath the raised end. The brace slid across the deck. She caught it with both hands, feeling the vibration of the ship through her gloves.

“Give me a hand,” she said.

“Who’s with you?” Hale asked.

“No one. The others are on the forward pallet.”

“Wait for somebody.”

Another jolt struck. The pod dropped onto the brace. The impact drove Mara’s knee into the deck.

“Waiting isn’t an option.”

She dragged the brace into position and locked it against the rail. The pod settled, but not enough. Its upper corner still leaned toward the pressure door. Mara reached for the second brace.

A red light flashed above the hatch.

“Burn in ninety seconds,” Hale said.

“Tell the bridge to hold it.”

“You tell them. I’m trying to keep the reactor from eating itself.”

Mara ignored him and reached for the pod’s restraint cable. The cable had been looped through a metal eye welded to the shell. She fed it around the cargo rail and pulled the ratchet tight. The mechanism clicked once, twice. On the third pull, the cable went rigid.

The pod lurched.

The ratchet tore out of her hand. Mara slammed against the wall, her helmet striking the padded panel. For a moment, the lock narrowed to ringing metal and the pale blur of the warning strip.

Then something tapped from inside the pod.

One tap.

A pause.

Two taps.

Mara froze.

“Venn?” Hale said in her ear. “Report.”

She stared at the lid.

The sound came again, softer this time. Not the loose rattle of cargo. Not a damaged brace. A deliberate knock from within.

“Hale,” she said. “The pod may be pressurized.”

“Then don’t open it.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“You said may.”

“I said it may be pressurized.”

The pod’s seals gave a faint, wet-looking twitch.

Mara swallowed. Her visor reflected the black bands circling the lid. There was no pressure indicator, no thermal readout, no access port she recognized. Whoever had built the thing had not intended dock crews to inspect it.

She pulled the scanner from her belt and pressed it to the shell. The display crawled through a series of errors.

“Come on.”

A low vibration answered through the scanner. The pod was drawing power from somewhere. Not the ship’s cargo grid; the meter showed no current through the restraint bay. Its internal system was still active.

“Thermal reading,” Mara said.

“Can you get one?”

“Not through the shell.”

“Then leave it sealed.”

The ship began to tremble as the maneuvering thrusters came alive. Loose dust drifted from the ceiling seam. Mara secured one hand to the rail and watched the pod strain against the cable.

If the restraint failed during the burn, the pod would become a projectile in a compartment full of cargo. She could seal the inner hatch, but the coolant trunk lay on the other side of the pod. A breach there would flood the lock with vapor and isolate half the ship.

She reached for the manual clamp.

“Hale, I’m opening the outer inspection collar.”

“No.”

“It has a mechanical release.”

“No, Venn.”

“If I can get a clamp on the shell, I can keep it from shifting.”

“You don’t know what’s inside.”

“I know what happens if it breaks loose.”

A sharp crack sounded from the pod. One of the black seals split along its edge.

Mara moved.

She wedged the inspection tool into the seam and leaned her weight against it. The tool’s handle dug into her palm. The seal resisted, then peeled with a sound like fabric tearing underwater.

Cold air spilled over her glove.

The scanner shrieked.

Mara jerked back. A plume of vapor clouded her visor, and something moved behind the opening. It was too quick to resolve, a pale fold withdrawing into darkness.

“Hale,” she said. “I’ve got biological activity.”

The comm went silent for half a second.

Then: “Get out of there.”

“The pod’s still unsecured.”

“Get out. Seal the lock and wait for quarantine.”

The ship rolled again. The pod shoved sideways, wrenching the cable tight. The brace bent with a metallic groan.

Mara looked at the pressure door. It had already begun to cycle toward closure, responding to the burn sequence. If she left now, the pod would be trapped against the guide arm. If the brace failed, the impact could rupture the coolant line before anyone reached her.

She drove the inspection tool deeper.

The seal peeled open another inch.

A smell reached her through the suit’s intake - not air exactly, but a sharp chemical tang that slipped past the filters and stung the back of her throat. Her eyes watered. The interior of the pod was dark except for a dull red glow pulsing beneath layers of translucent membrane.

“Venn, answer me,” Hale said.

“I’m here.”

“Get clear.”

“I need the clamp.”

“You need to stay alive.”

The inspection collar sprang loose.

Mara caught it against her chest. The pod’s lid shifted under the strain, and the opening widened with a sudden, violent jerk. Something inside flexed. A narrow shape pressed against the membrane, jointed or boneless - she could not tell. It withdrew before her mind could name it.

She slapped the cargo clamp onto the shell and cranked the handle. The jaws bit down. The pod stopped moving.

For one breath, there was only the hum of the ship and the rasp of Mara’s own breathing.

Then the thing inside struck the opening.

The membrane bulged outward. A pale tendril slipped through the gap, thin as a cable and wet with clear fluid. It felt along the edge of the pod, searching.

Mara stumbled backward, but the tether at her waist caught on the brace. The tendril snapped toward her.

It pierced her glove.

Pain flashed white through her hand.

Mara shouted and tore free. The tendril withdrew, leaving a pinprick of blood bright against the glove’s gray fabric. Something cold spread beneath the material, then vanished into the numbness of shock.

The pod remained clamped. The pressure door sealed with a heavy thud behind her.

“Venn!” Hale’s voice broke through the comm. “What happened?”

Mara stared at the hole in her glove.

The tendril moved again inside the pod, curling just beyond the split seal.

She raised her scanner with her uninjured hand. “It’s alive,” she said.

“What is?”

Mara backed toward the emergency panel, unable to look away from the red pulse beneath the membrane.

“The passenger.”

End of chapter one. 37 more chapters and about 74,801 words in the full book.