Nothing really felt right that morning. My security badge stopped working for a second, my coffee was cold. It makes sense that when we got that first transmission request, it would be equally… off.
I sat down at my desk and got all my systems booted up while my counterpart packed his belongings and left without a word. About twenty minutes into my shift, I got a notification.
1 new transmission request.
Nothing out of the usual. I pulled it up as Boyle, my boss, came up behind me.
He didn’t say anything, but I could feel a certain kind of anxious tension as he raised his mug to his lips.
The room fell silent as the distorted video feed began to play.
“Mission control, this is Barlowe aboard the Mercury12, do you copy?”
Mission control copy.
The video started out fuzzy, but eventually we could make out a woman in her mid-thirties. She sat nervously, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke,
“I uh… I worked the overnight and now I… I can’t find the rest of the crew.”
Boyle exhaled through his nose, almost snorting at what he’d just heard.
The woman, Barlowe, continued, “I’ve gone over the security footage. I watched them all go into their rooms last night. I don’t… I don’t understand where they went. You need to come get me. You need to send a ship.”
Crew is missing? I typed out.
Barlowe squinted at the screen for a second, reading what I had just sent. She nodded, looking into the camera pleadingly, “Since I finished my shift.”
I chewed my lip for a second before looking up at Boyle. He let out a sigh without looking at me, and set his coffee cup down on the side of my desk.
“Ask her for the security footage. I want everything since 15:00 yesterday.”
Please send security footage. Starting at 15:00 yesterday.
Barlowe read the message before nodding and began clacking away at her keyboard.
Boyle called up two other mission control officers and quietly instructed them. I couldn’t hear him over the static from the Mercury12’s feed, but from their expressions it didn’t sound like they were overjoyed with what they’d been told. They quickly hurried off as Boyle turned his attention back to the screen.
A folder with video logs popped up. I opened them.
“It says received. Did you get them? Can you help me now? Where did my crew go? Can you please come get me.” Anxiety rippled in her voice. I’ll give credit to her, I’d be a lot less calm if I was in her situation.
Watching footage. Will respond shortly.
“Please be fast. I’m scared.” She said quietly. I didn’t know how to respond. So I said nothing. Nobody else did either.
A silence fell over the control center as I played the first video. It was sped up until we saw someone. A man, one wearing a matching NASA uniform to the one that Barlowe had on. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He walked into his room.
I froze.
He walked?
We don’t have artificial gravity. Everyone else seemed to pick up on that fact too. We’d missed it with Barlowe somehow. It was easier to miss it when she was sitting, hair tied back and no other indications. But now she’d outed herself. Something was deeply wrong with this ship, with the whole crew.
“Boyle…?” I asked, hoping for confirmation that this was actually happening and not just a freaky dream.
“I know. Keep watching.” He barely even seemed phased. It made the pit in my stomach drop deeper.
We continued watching as each of the crew members, except Barlowe, retreated to their small cabins for the night. Barlowe worked away on some project that was obscured from our sight for the next few hours. Things sped up again. Nobody left their room. Barlowe never stood up. It slowed down again as she looked at the clock on the wall and suddenly yelled something. She stood up from her chair and seemed to be waiting for a response. Nothing. We all watched in total immersion as she walked from cabin to cabin, going in and out of rooms. The angles of the cameras hid the inside of most of them, but from what we could see they were all empty. Barlowe then checked them again, and again, before yelling something else and running to the computer, where she was still sitting waiting for us to respond.
Everyone sat in stunned silence.
“Hello…?” Barelowe suddenly asked, breaking the tension in the room. I scrambled back onto my keyboard.
We’re here. Watched footage.
I paused, racking my brain for possible answers for what the hell happened to that crew.
Did you check the airlock?
I asked, even though it was obvious the crew didn’t just magically teleport to their airlock and leave.
“Uh… I can check,” She stood up and left our view. Someone else switched between the security footage feed and we followed her along her journey. We’d lost color and sound, but all that really mattered was visual confirmation they hadn’t just suited up and left.
Barlowe checked inside every suit, and gave us a thumbs up after clearing each one. Looking in one of them, she seemed to linger. She lifted her head out for a second, and looked up at the camera. It was too grainy to see her expression, but I knew it wasn’t a good one. She leaned back in over the neck of the suit and reached in, fishing around for something. In one swift motion, she yanked her arm out and screamed an inaudible scream. She stumbled backwards before hurrying out and shutting the door behind her.
I felt my heart pounding in my chest and reminded myself I was safe. Sometimes weird shit happens. Especially in space, right?
“Mission control, this is Barlowe again. Aboard Mercury12. I need to speak with Declan Hayes. Declan are you there? Is he home right now? Can you please call him in.” Her words grew more frantic with each question.
“Do we… do we even have a Declan here?” I asked, once again looking to Boyle for answers I knew neither of us had.
“No. Not in our branch.”
“Well what about-“ I started.
“Tell her there’s no Declan.”
I bit my tongue and reluctantly typed out the next message.
No Declan. Sorry.
“What do you mean no Declan? Go get him! Declan I know you’re there!”
Boyle sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose while Barlowe continued rambling and asking about Declan.
“Ask her to send the scientific reports. Incident ones too. We need all of them.” Boyle tapped a finger on my desk, a nervous habit I knew he’d developed the past few months. It’s not the most reassuring thing in the world when the guy that’s supposed to have all the answers is just as lost as you are. He was containing it better than me though, I could feel my hands getting clammier with every message I sent out.
Can you send all incident and scientific reports.
“I’m not sending any reports until you put on Declan. I need to talk to Declan Hayes. He’s your boss for god’s sake. He should be there!” Barlowe’s panicked demeanor seemed to be turning angrier, something that wasn’t exactly helping my own scared state. Maybe she had accidentally contacted the wrong mission control? It was worth a shot to ask.
Can you confirm which mission control you are trying to reach.
Barlowe scoffed, “Jesus. I’m contacting Houston. The mission control.”
“That is us.” I said quietly, as if saying it aloud would unlock something I hadn’t considered before.
“Screw this.” Barlowe suddenly stood up. She leaned forward and shut off the camera. Another hush fell over the room before the last frozen frame of Boyle was overlaid by security footage. Now in pixelated black and white, accompanied by only radio static, Barlowe ran her fingers through her hair in frustration before she walked away. We jumped between cameras again. This was all too weird. In an effort to reach her, to get her back onto the live feed, we sent more messages. Through the radio and text. They were all but ignored. Barlowe sat herself down in the pilot’s seat and toggled with a few buttons.
“Barlowe has muted us, sir.” Someone said. Boyle nodded and picked his mug back up, taking a large sip. An effort to calm his nerves maybe?
She radioed something over the comms of the ship, then made her way into the gallery and sat down on a chair that reminded me of a train seat. Her knees huddled to her chest as she stared out the window, occasionally glancing down each end of the hallway.
I let out a huge sigh and ran my fingers through my hair myself, trying to think my way out of this. Where did the crew go? They didn’t train us for this.
“Can I use the washroom?” My voice nearly faltered but I managed to save it. Boyle nodded expressionlessly, not taking his eyes off the screen.
In one rough motion, I stood up and hurried up the stairs and outside the control room. People were discussing the situation in hushed whispers outside, I could tell by their expressions and sneaking glances.
The way they all looked at me while I walked past did nothing but put me more on edge. They expected me to have answers. They expected me to know what to do. But I didn’t. I had no idea and I was starting to doubt I ever would.
Luckily enough the bathroom was empty. I went into a stall and pulled my phone out. The first thing I did was google Declan Hayes. Nothing. Truly, there was nothing. No social media, no school records, nothing. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. How was there nothing?
The next morning, I walked back into work. I’d had trouble sleeping after everything that happened with Barlowe and the Mercury12. Most of the night had been dedicated to running though any possible scenarios that could explain anything about the situation at hand. Any place Barlowe could have forgotten to check. By the time my alarm went off and it was time to leave, I was left with nothing but the urge to crawl back into bed.
When I stepped inside the control center, the lights were all still off. It looked like Boyle hadn’t even gone home. His hair was unkempt and greasy, and there was a slight tremble in his hands as he wrote in his notepad.
“Did anything happen?” I asked in his general direction, hoping someone would tell me something.
“Nothin’” responded Finch, the guy who had covered for me overnight. “Sat on her ass the entire time. Not answerin any questions either.”
I nodded my head solemnly.
Maybe five minutes into my shift she suddenly stood up and walked back to the room with the camera that connected to the live feed.
1 new transmission request.
That was the fastest I’d ever accepted a request.
Barlowe looked disheveled as she appeared on the big screen.
“I’m going to die out here.”
You’ll be okay.
Boyle shifted, barely enough for anyone to notice, but he was still planted right beside my desk and it brought back that all-too-familiar feeling of doom.
“I don’t need your reassurance. Whatever happened to the rest of the crew, it’s going to happen to me. I can’t sleep. If I sleep the same thing will happen. You have to send a ship for me. Where’s Declan. He’ll know what to do. Can you please put Declan on.” Barlowe started rambling again.
Boyle turned to me. He slammed his mug on my desk.
“Get up, I’m taking over.”
“What-“ Before I could finish my thought, I was out of my chair and hanging over Boyle’s shoulder.
Send incident and scientific reports. Captain’s log too.
“I already told you- I’m not sending anything else until you put Declan on.”
This is Declan. Send the reports.
“Why would you say that?” I asked sharply, “We don’t know anything about whoever Declan is. We don’t know if he’s even real.”
Boyle ignored me. Barlowe seemed to have the same idea as me though.
“How do I know it’s you?”
Trust.
“Okay. Okay, I’m sending the reports. What do I do now? I need guidance.”
Are these all of them.
Barlowe looked directly into the camera and nodded.
Mercury12, this is mission control. Thank you for your service.
Before Barlowe could say anything, Boyle disconnected the live feed and stood up.
“What the fuck” I said to him, blocking his exit.
“I don’t know who that was, but we’ve never employed a Barlowe. And Declan Hayes retired fifteen years ago. Whatever that was, it wasn’t ours.”