Killer in Blue

“Scuttling.”

“Scuttling?” asked Sitch, confusion etched in his large, childlike face, his brow wrinkling up into his closely cropped brown hair. His deep voice and wide brown eyes belied his demeanor; he was a large manchild, behemoth in appearance and elementary in education. Sitch was kind and unassuming yet dangerous when agitated. No one ever understood him completely. Sometimes something so profound would come from his lips, quietly, as if he was simply waiting for the right moment to unburden his soul. Other times asking him for information was like trying to demolish a brick house with a spoon. He was a gentle giant in every sense of the phrase, but often as dense as Mississippi mud and violent when thrown into confusing situations.

“Yeah, scuttling. Like a crab on a tile floor, or a...a large bug in a shoebox. You know, scuttling.”

“We don’t have crabs here.”

“I know that, Sitch.”

“Or large bugs.”

“I know.”

“Maybe some spiders…”

“You’re getting off topic, Sitch.”

“I may’ve seen a roach last week in the caf…”

“Totally straying.”

“Could’ve been hallucinating, though…”

“SITCH!”

“Sorry. What did you ask me?”

“Have you heard it?”

“Nope.”

“Crap.”

“Why do you say, Mazey?”

“Newstead wants verification to check it out. So far, no one else has heard it but me.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah, Sitch. Crap.”

“You think maybe you’re just hearing things? Like the voices?”

“No, this isn’t just in my head. The voices sound like I’m listening in through headphones. This is out in the open.”

“Sounds like trouble, then. Bad mojo, Mazey.”

“Keep your eyes out for anything, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mazey. I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything.”

“Thanks, Sitch. I appreciate it. Listen, I’ve gotta get to the lab. You can reach me on coms if you need to, okay?”

“Okay.”

Scuttling was a sporadic irritation. Scuttling was something only I could hear. Scuttling was something on the station, rummaging in the dark, avoiding the crew, and keeping me up at night.

Sitch ran his large, meaty hand over his buzz cut and turned down the corridor. We parted ways, him heading north to the cargo bay while I went in the opposite direction towards Med Lab. I had stopped him to ask about the sounds. If anyone would have heard it, it would be Sitch. His childlike mind wouldn’t have missed the nearly imperceptible sounds, especially with his very active imagination.

I needed to keep things together. It was hard enough being the more feminine of the two women on board Gladdus12, but it was another to be the only functioning and socially acceptable psychic on this side of the solar system. Every day was a new challenge against my validity and necessity.

I struggled daily to keep my chin up, to prove myself. Most of the men in the crew were chauvinistic, strictly on the station to expand their monetary take. There was only one other woman on board, along with a non-binary crew member, and we often found ourselves having to remind the men we were human. It was a motley crew. All it would take was one small mistake. One minor flub would remind them of who I was: woman, psychic, on the station... Then I would be ostracized again.

* * *

“It’s Toxic Itch,” I replied as Big K stared at me skeptically.

“Toxic Itch? What the hell is that? Chick-speak for a rash? Don’t they teach you girls real medical stuff back at Central Labs?” He snorted.

I spoke calmly, keeping my chill. “Toxic Itch means you’ve been poking around places you shouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” Big K smirked. “Like where? The mess?”

I smiled sweetly. “No, like Margie Rose’s Five Ladies.”

The color drained from Big K’s dark mediterranean skin. Turning to strip the latex gloves from my hands, I continued, “You’re lucky that’s all you got, too. Hanscom told me a buddy of his, some guy he knows, lost important body parts below the belt after the ‘ladies’ were done with him…” I put up my hands to make air quotes when saying ‘ladies’.

While I straightened up the ‘tools of the trade’ I had out, Big K squirmed where he sat. I heard the paper covering scrunch and the pleather creak. I refused to feel sorry for him, so I ignored him, focusing on organizing my right-side drawer. Then he coughed and cleared his throat. I slowly looked over at him.

“Wha--” his voice cracking, making him blush, “Um, yeah. What...what can I do to get rid of it?

“Hmm…” I began, turning to him casually, folding my arms across my chest. “Well, let’s see. You could, for one, stop going to Margie Rose’s place.”

“Right. Definitely.”

“And you could take Viskalef to take care of the virus. I can give you some Ferenapillin to reduce the inflammation, too.”

“That would be great.” He sighed in relief.

“But…”

He started. “But? But what?”

“But if you keep up this jerkoff d-bag attitude of yours,” I said, staring him down, “I’ll slip Toxic Itch into every pair of boxers and pants that you have.”

Big K stared at me disbelieving.

“And we’ll run out of meds,” I finished softly.

Big K grimaced. “Alright, alright. Tough bargain you crazy bitch, but I’ll give you my word on it.” He held out a big, grimy paw and spit into it, then stuck it out front. Unnerved by the grubby display, I stayed cool and reached out, gripping his hand roughly and firmly.

Had to show no fear.

Big K smiled - if that's really what it was - and released the handshake. “Guess Central Labs was happy when you left, eh?”

“You could say that,” I said, smirking.

“Listen, this is gonna stay here, right? I mean, the other guys aren’t gonna… You won’t… Right?”

I winked at him. “Sure.”

Nodding, Big K stood up and walked to the doorway. He paused to mumble a “Thanks, Mazey”, then disappeared into the corridor.

“One down,” I muttered to myself. “Six more to go.”

Hours later, after the cargo bay crew had all been examined, I went to the mess to get some chow. It was going to be my first time eating, and it was already dinnertime. I walked in to see our robotics expert, Stevie trying to feed a bite of something brown to 10bit, their Fennec fox. Even 10bit was sticking its nose up at it. Across from them was Jonie, the other woman in the crew and our lone mechanic.

“Great,” I muttered. “Dinner isn’t even edible.” Still, I walked in and sat down next to Jonie at the mess table. I reached across the table to scratch the soft, warm fur under 10bit’s chin. It purred loudly in contentment, then hopped onto Stevie’s shoulder, completing a circle before settling down. Stevie frowned at me.

“I can’t get 10bit to eat anything today.”

“10bit’s not the only one,” added Jonie, picking at the mush on her tray.

“Have you considered the quality of the food?” I replied, inspecting the contents of their tray. “It doesn’t look very edible…”

“You’re not wrong,” Stevie said. They looked tired and sighed.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked, concerned over our little teenage crew member. Stevie was all of 16 but could get along with the best of them. They didn’t have any notion of being a child, acting more like a young adult and composing themselves accordingly. Their fox, 10bit, was the only family Stevie had beyond the crew. They had found each other before coming here, somewhere back on the Siarnaq station. I wasn’t sure how they came to be together but was still glad they had each other.

“Yeah, I’m just beat. It’s been a long day of programming.”

“I can sympathize. Today was nothing but crew examinations.”

Stevie winced, their long black hair falling over their shoulders. “Big K?”

“Big K.” I replied.

Everyone knew that Big K was a disgruntled bigot. He never seemed to approve of anything that wasn’t a man in charge or a woman in submission. Stevie was non-binary, so they were a mystery to Big K. It was that mysteriousness that put Stevie on Big K’s radar in a big way as something he was scared of, so Stevie tried to avoid him like the plague.

“Guy’s a major asshat,” said Jonie, disgusted. Jonie also bore the brunt of his prejudice because she was both a woman and black. It didn’t matter that she could run circles around the cargo bay guys when it came to machinery on the station, often coming to their rescue to fix loaders and lifts.

“It’s okay, though,” I continued. “We came to an understanding.”

“Oh really?” asked Jonie.

“Yeah. He doesn’t mess with me, and I won’t mess with him.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” replied Stevie.

“Best I could come up with.” I realized I hadn’t asked either of them about the sounds. “That reminds me, what about you guys?”

“What about us?” replied Jonie, still poking at her ‘food’. Her golden eyes glanced up at me momentarily before refocusing on her tray.

“Have you heard anything strange on the station?”

Stevie stared at me, pale green eyes sparkling, a puzzled expression on their pale, alabaster face. “Strange? Like what?” 10bit heard the change in Stevie’s tone and perked up, gazing at me with it’s large cream-colored ears standing straight up.

“Best I can tell you is that it’s like scuttling.”

“Scuttling?” asked Jonie, giving me her full attention now. She was intrigued and her eyes lit up, glowing bright against her rich brown skin. “Like scampering or scurrying or scrambling?”

“Yup.”

“That’s a new one,” said Stevie.

“So I’m guessing the answer is no…”

“Nope,” replied Stevie.

“No scuttling,” answered Jonie. “That’s a great word, though. Is it a bug? An insect?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Dammit.”

“Why? What’s up?” asked Stevie.

“I’ve been hearing it in various places around the station, but no one can confirm they’re hearing it, too. Newstead won’t investigate anything without corroboration, so I’m stuck being the lone person that hears it.”

“That’s gotta be awful,” said Jonie, shoving her tray off to the left. “How long have you heard it for?”

“A couple of weeks. Since that last shipment came in from Alpha Centauri.”

“That’s been a while. I’m surprised I haven’t heard it. What are you gonna do?” asked Jonie.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll try to see if I can record it? I’ve got to get something to Newstead.”

“Yeah, try that,” responded Stevie. “You know what? I can give you one of my CamRecoBots. They’re small and’ll fit into tiny places. You can carry one in your pocket or put it near where you’re hearing the sound. They’ll record the sound and the video for you when they sense any sensory or atmospheric changes.”

“That would be great. How sensitive are they?”

“Something starts making sounds? Recording. Something moves? Recording. Something farts? Recording.”

“Really…? This thing will pick up when something farts?” asked Jonie, clearly entertained with learning about a new bit of machinery on the station.

“Yes,” replied Stevie.

“Ok,” I replied, slapping my hands down on the table. “Sign me up.”

“I’ll swing by with one in a couple hours. I’ve gotta head back to The Box, finish working on the automatons.” Stevie sighed and pushed themselves up, standing from the table.

“No problem,” I said, standing up to meet them. “More programming?”

“Update installs. A couple of ’em need minor tweaks. You know the deal. They won’t fix themselves.”

“I hear ya.”

Stevie and 10bit left, heading back to the robotics lab, a.k.a. The Box, while Jonie headed back to the machine shop. The Box was literally a box, a former cargo container that had been attached to the station for extra space. All of Stevie’s automatons and mechanical needs were there, providing a secure and contained space for them to hole up. Jonie was usually in the machine shop right outside the Cargo Bay, but she would pop by to see if Stevie needed anything from time to time. Jonie kept a close eye on Stevie, probably due to missing her twin sister, Cassie. Stevie gave Jonie someone to care for. However, Stevie kept to themselves in The Box. They had 10bit and the robots, and that seemed to be enough.

I felt a kinship to Stevie and Jonie. Like them, I had something about me that kept me an arm’s length away from most people. Like them, I knew what it was like to be isolated and alone. Even better, they never asked me about my abilities, knowing it might be part of who I am but not what I am entirely.

I needed to see the captain, so I headed south towards the bridge. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked down the corridor, the metal plating clanging underfoot. Never a short walk, it was roughly half the length of the station from the mess hall to the bridge or about half a kilometer. I could hear crew members in their quarters celebrating the day's end as I walked past. Several ships had recently docked, so I had to maneuver around cargo being unloaded by new visitors. Offices lined the corridor for ambassadors and dignitaries to conduct business, as well as small vendor shops for visiting merchants.

Once I arrived outside the bridge, I found the comms panel and pressed the call button. “Scott here. Permission to see the captain?” I asked.

“Granted,” came the reply.

The door unlatched and slid open with a whooshing sound. Hanscom’s bearded Viking face was there to greet me.

“Hey, Mazey.”

“Hey, yourself. How’s things today?”

“Always better when you’re around,” he said with a smile, his Scottish accent coming through with flying colors.

“You big sweet-talker. Where’s Mack? I need to see him.”

“Right back there,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Hanscom.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, flashing a grin that left me weak-kneed.

I smiled for him, then skirted by so I could head to the back of the bridge and see the captain. Hanscom and I had a flirtatious thing going, and I was nearly positive we both meant it seriously. We had an evening a few months back that I doubt neither of us had forgotten, and how could I? His roguish good looks were only amplified by his chin-length, reddish blonde hair and stunning grey-blue eyes. A girl could get lost looking into their stormy seas, and I certainly did a time or two. He nearly had me wrapped around his finger, and I definitely had him wrapped around mine.

It was too bad we had my abilities between us.

As much as he said they weren’t an issue, Hanscom had difficulty processing what I was capable of. The voices. The physical sensations. The dreams. It was all more than he wanted, often more than he could understand, and I couldn’t blame him. The only difference between me and any other red-blooded woman was that I couldn’t drown my hang-ups in alcohol or smother them with drugs. My abilities made me stand-out in such a negative way that sometimes even I couldn’t get past them.

Headquarters valued my services on Gladdus12, but there were times I would have loved nothing more than to be a normal woman. To not know when someone was cheating. To not be aware that someone was lying or corrupt. I would have loved to not hear the voices, and there was a time or two where I considered having Central Labs cut my Temparocc out of my brain.

In the brain is a region where the temporal, parietal, and occipital lobes all converge. This blending of regions controls vision, reading, and reasoning. Within that region exists a pocket called the Temparocc that controls psychic abilities. Not everyone is born with this pocket, and those of us that are can have a surgical procedure to have it extracted. When I was 17, my parents wanted to do this to me, to have my Temparocc removed due to their personal religious beliefs. It was a simple thing: I scared them. Psychic abilities were the devil’s work, after all. I refused and left home, joining up with Central Labs for their Psy-Range program, eventually traveling from Terra into space.

I hadn’t spoken with my parents since.

After spending three years onboard, I had learned more and more about this cast of characters that I had come to call family. Whereas I was in Med Lab and the “Lady Psychic”, many of the crew only came around to see me when something was wrong. Some of the men weren’t to be trusted, like dickhead Big K and Vinnie, our electronics guru. Yet, some of them were trustworthy, like my northern man, Hanscom and the captain, Mack.

Mack was actually a bit of a lone-wolf. Despite his gruff exterior, he was well-respected as an adventurer and a true explorer at heart. He had spent all of his life wandering the known galaxy, and this was just his current port of call. He had never been married, so he had no one to call family except those he was onboard with. I did my best to give him distance but also to be the family he needed, when he needed it.

I approached Mack at the weapons station. “Greetings, Captain.”

Mack turned and smiled at me warmly, his chocolate brown eyes affectionate. He pushed some of his rich brown hair back from his brow. “Hello, Scott. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Not much, Captain. I was hoping to talk with you for a moment?”

“Sure thing.” He turned to Vinnie, who was working on some wiring in a weapons system panel. “You’ve got this, Santoro?”

“Yes, sir,” Vinnie replied without looking up. His dark blonde hair was blood red in the panel lighting, his wiry figure bent and twisted like a contortionist to get deep into the framework.

I still didn’t know anything about Vinnie, and that alone gave me pause where he was concerned. He’d been onboard for eight months, and it was like he had just arrived. He kept to himself and ate alone. He couldn’t be bothered to associate with anyone, despite invitations to do just that. I had heard that his last station was Io, but the people I knew there said they never heard of him. Combine that with both his vacant stares and his expressionless blue eyes, and you were left with someone incredibly sketchy. All my little warning bells and sirens went off in his presence. I had hoped my abilities would help me glean something about him, but they had been silent.

The one time I needed those damned voices…

Mack gestured for me to lead the way, and I walked across the bridge, over to the side of the shield systems. Despite Hanscom’s proximity, I knew he wouldn’t spread any gossip about me or anything I discussed with the captain. I glanced at him before turning my attention to Mack.

“I need a favor…”

“Oh really?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. I knew that sparkle was going to disappear in a moment.

“Yes, sir. I need you to come down to Med Lab for a few minutes, so I can check your vitals.”

“Oh dammit, Mazey. Not this shit again,” he grumbled.

“C’mon, Mack,” I said, losing the official attitude and shifting into a casual tone. “You know you aren’t an exception. Everyone has to get checked out.”

“You said I could go last.”

“And you are,” I replied quickly.

“Isn’t there someone else that you need to perform your little tests on first?”

“No. I just finished up with Cargo Bay, and you know I always save them for last. Every time. Now it’s your turn.” I gave him a little poke in the chest for emphasis.

“I can’t leave the bridge right now. There’s too much work to be done.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, we’re running tests on the weapons systems.” He called over his shoulder to Vinnie. “You almost done over there?”

“Almost, sir,” replied Vinnie.

I heard a noise and saw Hanscom chuckling to himself behind Mack. I glared at him and turned my attention back to Mack. “I see. Nope. You’re coming with me.”

Mack started to reply, but I cut him off. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“No.”

“No, I already told you. I won’t take no for an answer.”

More grumbling. More scowling. More chuckling.

“Let’s go, sir.”

“Fine, fine. Let me just get something from my room.”

“Nice try, Mack. The last time you did that, you locked yourself in.”

“But I--”

“No. No pit stops this time. We’re going straight to Med Lab.”

“I hate when you’re bossy like this,” he muttered.

“Good. That means I’m doing my job right,” I replied and gestured for him to lead the way off the bridge.

Mack began to head toward the door, and I followed him, swatting Hanscom on the shoulder as I walked past. He merely winked in response. We made it out the door, hearing it whoosh closed behind us.

Then the voices started.

Mazey… Comms… DARK… BloodBloodBloodBlood… Screams… Dark… EyesEyes… bloodbloodblood… eyes… WALLSwalls… Mazey… Dark… stranger… Walls...EYES...

I doubled over, grabbing my head and groaning. There was always a headache that accompanied the sounds. Mack stopped and reached out to touch me, to see if I was okay.

“Don’t!” I gasped. Quieter still, “Please... don’t…” I struggled to breathe, trying to listen as they came to me. Each voice echoed around my head like a broken speaker pressed against the back of my neck.

Some of the voices were soft, some were screaming. Each was a different pitch, a different identity: a small child crying softly, a lumbering beast roaring, a quiet woman, an angry man, a vile demon... To this day I was still unable to identify any of the voices as any one person or as any one entity. Sometimes the voices were warm, a sense of calm and comfort accompanying them like a soft blanket. Today the voices were freezing cold, leaving me frostbitten from the inside out, burying themselves like icey needles inside my brain and piercing my consciousness.

“What do you need?” asked Mack, concern and worry etched in his weathered face.

“A moment… Just a moment…” I murmured.

The voices were starting to fade, the same words replaying over and over again. I needed to write them down before they faded from my memory, too. Grabbing a piece of paper from my pants pocket, I pulled a pen from the top pocket of my coveralls. Using the floor grating as support, I knelt down and leaned forward to quickly scribble down each word, then slipped the paper back in my pocket.

Taking a moment for myself, I leaned back on my heels and tilted my head back, eyes closed. I sighed, then opened them, seeing Mack was still staring at me, clearly troubled by my exhibition. I leaned forward and pushed myself up, standing to meet his gaze.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” asked Mack.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

I feigned shock and turned to look at him. “And thank YOU very much!”

Mack laughed then. “I’m sorry. I was just worried about you.” He paused, then asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

I smiled for him. “I’m positive. Now let’s get you down to Med Lab.”

“Oh, we’re still doing that?”

I laughed. “You’re not getting out of it that easy.”

“I think we need to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Nope. Come on, Mack. Let’s go.”

I took him by the arm and led him down the corridor, chatting casually as we went. Meanwhile, my brain was still trying to process what I had been told: dark, walls, eyes, blood… These were not typical messages from the voices. Usually the voices were easier to understand, to fit the puzzle pieces together. This was different. I didn’t know what to make of their messages, but I was damned sure I was going to find out.