Dylan & Zyan

On an abandoned space station, unable to communicate with the rest of the universe, Zyan must race to discover what happened to the station's inhabitants... Before their fate becomes his.

My ears are ringing. I think I hear clicking, slow and methodical, but it’s probably in my head. I don’t hear anything else. I don’t hear the air rushing through the crack in the wall. I don’t hear the siren that’s supposed to accompany the flashing red light over my door.

Something must have hit us while I was sleeping. My hand fumbles along the wall for the oxygen mask that hangs nearby. That’s supposed to hang nearby. I can’t feel it. My vision keeps fading in and out, like someone’s playing with a dimmer switch in my head. I can’t see the mask on the floor anywhere.

I don’t have much time before I’m out of breathable air. I pull my feet over the edge of my bed. The floor is colder than normal. I stand, with great difficulty, and stumble to my dresser. My boots are lying on the floor next to it. I don’t really have time to get dressed properly, but I need something on my feet. As I sit to lace them up, I spot something metal under the bed.

The oxygen mask. I make a desperate scramble for it as my lungs begin to ache. I think the air is finally gone from the room. I strap it on as quickly as my numbing fingers will allow. The flow of oxygen is like a drug. A single breath fills me with the energy to keep moving. I need to hurry, to find a full space suit before I freeze to death.




“Stupid machine.” Zyan slammed a hand against the helmet on his head. “Fix it. I need to know what happened.”

The helmet buzzed and whirred as it attempted to work. The visor blinked several times as the HUD reoriented itself. Then a light blue arrow appeared in the corner of his vision, accompanied by a message: Working terminal found.

Zyan sighed as he started toward his new destination. “It better work.”

The End

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