The Crimson wake v the Ship awakes.

It was the silence that grabbed Davey first. Then came the awe.  It was strange that he hadn’t noticed it before, but, he mused, when a place loses its familiarity, or something alters how the space is shaped; then that changes how that space is perceived. The docking bay was a vast grey green, triangular ribbed shaped space, whose floor had to be dried regularly as the dock itself created its’ own atmosphere and needed regular maintenance.  Enormous robotic gantry cranes, bowed like half human half alien monoliths; while their vast junction cables’ that were half connected and half disconnected, hung like enormous phallus, only to be glimpsed in the near gloom
​       Usually this was all lost to him, as The bay, as it was affectionately termed, usually took on another perspective. A place chaotic palace of shout’s smashes echo’s and Tannoy beep’s with bellowed commands or  demands from fellow Docker’s or Tanker’s  for support.
​        Now all these voices were whispered in his inner ear.  Ghosts where everywhere in this sacred space, dedicated to the work and genius   of humanity.  He rubbed his stubble and welsh ragged his greasy, raven coloured hair back into his parting as he stared up into the gloom. All too aware of those ghostly voices around him as they mingled with the club, clat, tapping, pebble sound of the quickening steps they made
​       They all stood in a line outside the white oval door of the docking portal.  Wearing their atmo- suits, carrying their plexi-helmet’s. They stood stoic, waiting for Weasley to give the signal; and from the relative safety of the control room, curl open the bay door.  As he Stood there Davey felt the need to run. To run to grab kit and get the hell off the Way station
​      ‘Helmets on.’ Weasley commanded
​       Automatically and without thinking, he put the helmet on and turned it to the right. Clicking it into place.  Air hissed into his ear’s, he heard his breathing in automatic wheezes.  At that moment, He didn’t care if he did get a five-year sentence on a lunar penal colony making strep’s for the Earth domes.
​      He could feel his breath coming in heaves.  The bay door curled open and darkness loomed.  The walk along the access tube was the longest that he had ever done. Each step took a second and each second took two heartbeats to complete
​      ‘Ya' know what I’m gonna do with the pay I get from this?’  O’ Rafferty sighed
​      ‘No, an’ I don’t care either.’ Retorted Smith. But O’ Rafferty didn’t care whether smith heard him or not. ‘… I’m goin’ down to the clubs on thr base decks  an’ get myself some lady-boys an’ have myself  good time.’  His voice drawled
​      ‘God’s what a waste.’ Muttered Smith. ‘The trouble with you Rafferty is that you have no imagination. You can’t see beyond this place. How about taking a trip to Orion,  the nebulae is beautiful. But no… lets get fucked up the ass by-
​      ‘Quit it!’  came an order from one of the A-Corp.
​      ‘We don’t take order’s from the fuckin’-
​       ‘Smith cut that crap out!’ Weasley bellowed; over the intercom. This is now a military mission; you are under their command. You Listen!
​      ‘Shit if I had known that- Came the sarcastic return.
​      ‘ha ha’  Rafferty bellowed fruitilly
​       The door behind them closed. 
      The door to the Crimson Wake opened.
​      Davey’s heart raced as they walked inside.

They found themselves in the main junction corridor that connected main mission to the star drive at the rear of the ship. It was a vast ugly lined ribbed tube filled with empty uniforms and something that Davey couldn’t put his finger on.  As far as he was concerned, It was like walking into some cavernous mouth. He fought off his growing anxiety by dwelling on Kit, the time they spent in the Mars domes. Better days, when he had his licence and…
​       In the half-light given from their helmet’s, they could see the droids. Slumped in the doorway.   The A-Corp removed their weapons and passed them out to the four men of Davey’s team
​       ‘Do you know how this works?’  asked one of the masked officers. Smith Shrugged, O’ Rafferty nodded mutely.  Beamish shook his head, as Davey nodded.
​       ‘The standard pulse has two setting’s stun and kill.’  He pointed to the dial by the trigger. Then he turned the weapon over; and pointed to the under-barrel.  ‘This is the mag launcher. Don’t fucking use it!’  The officer turned away.
​      That was it?  Davey sighed
​      ‘Okay, we’ll split into two teams, who’s the FTL maintenance engineer here?’   Beamish raised his hand.  ‘Okay Mann  Stev and Rhi, go with Beamish? Is that right?’  Beamish nodded ‘…and check out Engineering….The flight data Engineer?  Davey put his hand up meekly. ‘Ok the rest of us will go up to the flight deck and divide into separate parties there.’
​       Suddenly There was a strange creaking sound. A sound that all deckhands knew only too well
​       ‘What the-‘  Davey looked about.
​        Davey looked at the officer in charge who charge didn’t hear it
​       ‘What the hell?’ O’Raffety span around.
​        Beamish shook his head
​        ‘What’s wrong fellahs?’  Weasley came over the headset’
​       ‘Picking up a grav wave.’  Beamish muttered.
​       ‘We are not alone on this ship.’ Smith’s voice quavered
​       ‘The data states otherwise. ‘ Came Weasley’s curt reply
​       ‘Yeah but we know ships. There is something on board!’  Beamish bellowed.
​        ‘Stove that crap!’  Came the order from Weasley
​        Then Weasley spoke directly to Davey’s private interco ‘Take control of your men for Jeus sake!’ But Davey felt it too. All hands knew when something was wrong; and when there was something else aboard.  It was a learned experience; not defined by anything written in a text book.
​       ‘Okay guys. We have a job to do!  So come on!  The sooner we are done the sooner we get paid!'  With his nerves on edge  Davey walked with  his half of the team towards the flight deck.

It was like walking into a tomb. Only there were no bodies. Nothing at all to state that this had once been a thriving ship of thirty to forty people; each with lives of their own.   Ice crystals covered the dead computer consoles, that looked as if they had never even been touched.  In the centre of the control room and suspended from the ceiling glowed the bio server.
​        ‘It’s red… why is it red?’  the officer with him seemed charged.  His face hidden, but his voice gave away his tension
​        ‘I don’t know. Sometimes they glow red when they are receiving data, sometimes they glow red, while sleeping… sometimes...ask Kit
​       ‘Kit?
​       ‘My daughter…She knows about this stuff better than me. I simply remove the coupling. It’s a wire and cutting job.
​        Why Beamish lie like that? he’s the mainframe engineer.’  Davey thought angrily.
​        ‘I’m going to restore partial power.’  Came Breamish’s voice from engineering
​       A slow hum started and then the lights came on
​       ‘WHAT THE!  ARGGH!’  screamed Smith ovcer the intercom frm medical.​
​       There was heard a sudden burst of pulse rifle fire.  Then another.  Then another.  Davey ran to the door and slammed the seal button. Then ran to the far end of the room to the retrieval station.  He ripped off the panel. Then he heard something to his left.  He turned. Then paled as something he couldn’t identify, slowly rose up from the shadow of the floor. The officer took aim.

In the command office, Weasley sharply stood up.  A cold shudder pulled through him; while the room filled with the screams of the terrified and the dying. His face paling, he pressed the alarm button that then set up a force field that finally sealed the Wake off from the main dock. He stood there, mute.  His face paling as the screams continued.  He stood there, looking down at the monitor screen.  One at a time the suits bio- signals, registered on the screen in front of him, flat-lined.   First It was Smith, then O’Rafftery, then the A-corp officers; then Beamish.  Finally, Davey’s. Then he slowly walked and stared out through the command window and down at the ship, that rested in the holding area.  His hands becoming fists. His nails piercing the skin of the palms of his hands.  A trickle of blood slowly emerged. It fell and stained the dirty grey carpet at his feet.