Page 1 of Leviathan

ONE

MARIA

One tear, that’s all it would take for them to realize I’d gotten out.

If they realized I’d gotten out, then they would realize I’d been getting out for weeks now.

If they realized I’d been getting out for weeks, they might realize I was the one who started the fire in the supply room.

My fingers strained to stretch the rubbery membrane that covered the exit to the ventilation shaft, prying it open enough to get a good view, but not enough that it couldn’t bounce back, hiding evidence of my spying. During the night cycles, this place was a ghost town, but now, in the dead center of the day shift, the frantic rush of guards and scientists had suddenly stopped, leaving the security room empty and unguarded, I hoped. All I needed was to see the security screens and know where the aliens had clustered, so I could get to the airlock in time.

Except, it wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t see what I needed to see to escape.

I had to risk it.

I gritted my teeth and pulled harder.

The material tore, the soft sound of the rip exhaling and rippling like fleshy lips blowing out air. It didn’t matter if I left evidence, because this was my one chance to get off this hellhole floating somewhere in outer space.

I froze, listening for any reaction.

A heavy silence pressed against my eardrums, punctuated only by the frantic hammering of my heart. I peered out. On the monitor across the room, I could see my cell. The pathetic tent I’d rigged from a thin blanket and table corner still held my shape, a poor disguise for my crawl through the ventilation shaft hidden behind the table. At least, I thought it was poor, but it was enough to fool these aliens.

That or they just didn’t care enough to pay attention to what I was doing when they weren’t prodding me.

After a few more moments it became clear. No one was in the security room.

Every last one of them had gone to deal with the docking ship, a situation that had sent the whole station into a flurry, or at least the portion of it I could access through the ventilation shafts. If there were more space stations beyond the research labs, they were on a different airflow system.

This small research space station hadn't had any other ships arrive in the months I'd been here. I wasn't sure if it was two or three. I had no way to translate time into months except when the lights were out, and these aliens had a shorter sleep cycle and a longer wake cycle than mine. I marked the night cycles on the wall with one of the things I had stolen that I kept under my bed table like a packrat. No one searched my room. I didn't give them a reason to, and had put on the appearance of a compliant little test subject while I spent my nights searching for an escape.

The room itself suggested that imprisoning people wasn’t something they did often. The bed was little more than a glorified coffee table, and the ventilation shaft was large enough that I could probably squeeze through it if I was willing to collect a few bruises along the way.

After a few months here, bruises were the lease of my worries.

I could see the escort moving on the monitors, following along with the small robotic drone that carried the large cargo container of supplies that dwarfed them all, a strange juxtaposition of size and strength. They were so nervous about it being on board they were all there.

I’d overheard them talking.

They wouldn’t have let this particular supplyship anywhere near the station if they didn’t have any other choice. A choice I took away from them the moment I set fire to the supply room.

My neck itched as my eyes fixed on the small box sitting on top of the empty security desk.

I’d heard them talking about that too.

They were all escorting the drone because they were certain that it was going to try to hack the station. That type of ship was known for electronic espionage, so they had taken all of the research data off their network and stored it in a device locked in this security room.

That data belonged to me.

Any information formed off of the contributions of people who didn’t consent to it, belonged to those people. It was my body they were studying, that meant their findings, their research, it was mine.

I glanced at the monitors, the group was almost to the supply room.

I didn't have much time to get this done.

I shoved a finger under the tight collar that circled around my neck and scratched the rash that had become my constant companion, taking one long, deep breath to settle my nerves. I lifted the most useful tool I'd stolen so far to the edge of the vent and pressed the button. The edge of the vent made a clicking sound, and with a push, the whole thing swung out into the room, allowing me access without further damaging the membrane. I shimmied out, using my elbows to drag myself forward while my toes inched along to help.