This trip down the Corridor of Death, unlike the one they had taken about an hour ago, was much shorter and less hazardous to their health. But from the state of Foster’s breathing, two things were immediately apparent. One, he should have spent a lot more time working out in prison.

  And two, he would probably never catch up to Justine Rushing.

  “Don’t wait for us.” He yelled to a much healthier and less winded FBI agent as she ran effortlessly down the still dirty corridor. “We’ll catch up in a second!”

  “We’re not that far behind.” Joseph reflexively said more to himself than to Foster.

  “We shouldn’t be behind at all.”

  “Poor life choices,” Joseph took one more steadying gulp of air and said, “but hopefully, we can soon change all that.”

  Foster looked at the alien with an almost sympathetic look but didn’t respond. Instead, he called out to his only real friend. “Hoover. Are any of those things trying to take out the Popper Drive?”

  “First of all, less talking and more running. It’s not just your ass on the line. Secondly, yes. There are a couple of entities trying to enter the engine room. Thankfully, the pressure doors on that level are very sturdy.”

  “Does that mean they’ll hold?” Foster asked quickly between sharp intakes of breath.

  “They should.” Hoover paused his answer for a second to listen to their labored breathing. Sadly, their heavy panting reminded him of someone finishing a 26-mile marathon instead of a 50-yard jog. “You better just hope your plan works. Because I don’t know if you can make it out in the wider universe in the shape you’re currently in.”

  “Very funny, Hoover.” Foster said as they saw their other teammate crossover into the prisoner retrieval room. “Just get the damn thing ready.”

  Far enough ahead to miss most of their conversation, Justine paused near the retrieval unit and looked up through the opening toward the distant top of the storage facility. Even at over six hundred feet away, she could still make out the outline of an enormous ship resting silently behind the transparent dome.

  “That thing looks huge,” she said after staring in awe for about thirty seconds.

  “It has to be.” Joseph commented as he and Foster finally made it to the prisoner retrieval room. With hand resting firm on his knees, the deputy said. “The black hole’s gravity is going to be a mother to break free from.”

  Leaving her to stare at their escape plan, Joseph started opening a series of hidden storage compartments just below where the prisoner’s stasis tubes slid into the wall. Near the bottom of the largest one, he retrieved what looked like a couple of gray canvas duffel bags and began to stuff them with containers of water and small packets of something she didn’t recognize.

  “Well, at least there’s some real good news for a change.” He looked at Foster and nodded. “They’re here, just like the inventory stated.”

  “Excellent… pack up everything you can.” Foster said as he started to bring up menus on the healing machine’s interface. After a minute of tweaking, he rejoined the group but made sure to stop in front of Justine in particular. “I think we’ve got time for one more run through in the healing machine.”

  “What?” She said absentmindedly. “Run through what?”

  Without responding to her questions, Foster led Justine back to the healing machine where the door was already open. At this turn of events, the young agent started waving her hands in the universal sign of ‘no thanks’.

  “It’s just a couple of scrapes.” She ran her hands over a couple of small gashes that still dripped small amounts of blood onto the white floor. These were the wounds she received when one of those things went bouncing off the elevator wall at just the right angle. “I don’t think they’ll be too much of a problem.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “You’re probably right.” He took her by the hand and eased her back into the machine. Again, the invisible force instantly ensnared her upper torso and held it firmly in place against the soft pad. “But still, better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Jesus, Foster.” She looked back at him with an appreciative smile. “You’re worse than my mother.”

  “Please keep that energy. Because I need you to remember something.” Foster looked at her with sad, guilty eyes. “I tried to send you back home.”

  “What are you talking about?” For the first time since the fight in the corridor, Justine felt the slightest twinge of apprehension enter her normally stoic mind. Was there something he was not telling her? “What do you mean you tried to send me home?”

  “Just that.” Those sad eyes shifted back to their normal appearance. In fact, she might even call them expectant. Like someone waiting to see if their lotto numbers were correct. “I tried to send you home before any of this was necessary.”

  “Any of what?”

  “Hoover,” Foster ducked out of sight for a second, then began pressing symbols on the machine’s screen. After what seemed like forever, he said. “Run the program.”

  “Program?” To her right, she could see Joseph stop what he was doing to stare at her with those same expectant eyes. “You mean the healing program?”

  After about thirty seconds of silence, the scientist popped back into view and asked her another seemingly foreboding question. “Are you strapped in good and tight?”

  Instinctively, she struggled to move against the gravitational restraints. But the power behind them was too great to resist. “Yes… why?”

  “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to go over all the reasons. But let’s just say that we’ll probably have to make our way to other planets during this little excursion to the stars. And sometimes those planets may not have oxygen to breathe.”

  Trying her best not to completely freak out, Justine just stared at the man standing before her.

  “There also may be other unforeseen conditions which might make the dark corners of the universe uninhabitable for humans. Heat or cold swings that our fragile bodies may not be able to survive.”

  “Survive?” Justine’s mind raced through every science fiction movie or television show she had ever watched. As she did, the answer to his problem became obvious. “So, we’ll just use space suits.”

  “I’m sorry… but no. From what Joseph told me, a lot of species in the universe are quite xenophobic. They usually keep to themselves on their own planets. And when a species does venture beyond their borders, only a handful of them interact in person. Most tend to stay on their ships while conducting business.”

  “That’s bullshit.” Her instincts were screaming that something wasn’t right. From the look on his face, it was clear as day that Foster was planning something shady. She knew it. And right now, she couldn’t help but feel like the world’s biggest guinea pig. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Justine,” Foster sighed. “In all those movies you watch, how many aliens ever seen wearing a spacesuit?”

  “Not that many, but they always had them around.” Her instincts grew louder with every word that came out of his mouth. “We could stay on our ship.”

  Foster tried to think of an easy way to explain what he was about to do to her. What he was about to do to all of them. But try as he might, he couldn’t string together enough adjectives to make the term biological reengineering more palatable.

  “Do you remember when we arrived at the station, and I got mad at you?” She nodded. “And do you remember when I accused you of not even knowing if there was any air here to breathe?”

  “Yeah,” her words were bordering on defiant. “And I got that right.”

  “No… you got lucky.” Over Foster’s shoulder, Joseph had stopped staring as he hurried back toward them with three large canvas bags full of supplies. The look on his face was one of apprehension and relief. “Do you remember when I said that I don’t like being unprepared?”

  She nodded as Foster darted out of sight again.

  “Foster!” Her words were rushed and panicked. “You better tell me what you’re doing right fucking now!”

  When he finally eased back into her sightline, he remained quiet with only that same sly grin plastered on his face. Her mind began to race with the possibilities of what this crazy man from Wilson Institute might be about to do. Then, she recalled those words. The words which had flashed upon the healing screen when Hoover first activated it:

  DESIGN AND RECONSTITUTION.

  RECONSTITUTION.

  “Foster,” her stomach knotted up and the room began to spin as visions of Seth Brundle and the movie The Fly flooded her consciousness. An unsettling visual montage of grotesqueries which was quickly followed by two horrible words: genetic manipulation. “You better not be doing what I think you’re about to do.”

  “I don’t like being unprepared, Agent Rushing. And what I’m about to do will make sure we’re never unprepared again.” Foster almost seemed happy to hear the machine’s power source start to hum. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure not to touch your scars.”

  With those words, the clear door swiveled down and closed on Justine’s enraged face.

  In a minute, life as she knew it was about to change.