Last chapter. The Heaven's Wing

"Corbin, I'll go with you and keep any hostiles busy."

The airlock doors sealed behind Corbin with a heavy clang, cutting off the noise of the Vanguard’s interior. The chamber hissed as it depressurized, the atmosphere venting into the void. Outside, the red giant’s light bathed the scene, casting long shadows over the station’s angular hull.Douklan steadied the ship as close to the emergency hatch as he dared, the Vanguard’s thrusters firing in short bursts to maintain position. "You’re clear," he called over the comms.

Corbin and Mercer activated their suit’s maneuvering jets, propelling them out of the airlock and toward the station’s hatch. The vacuum of space was silent as they floated closer to the small glowing portal.

There was a small, but distinct change as the airlock sucked the air and suddenly Mercer was in a vacuum. Even with his suit the difference in pressure was notable, especially with the lack of air resistance. Something so small and ordinary but strange when missing.
Then Corbin jumped and Mercer followed, and when they hit weightlessness it was like constantly being in that moment at the top of the jump, between up and down.

Corbin stepped out of the ships airlock and as the trace of artificial gravity fell away he felt the tension in his shoulders relax, ever so slightly. He was home, open space, where he grew up. Despite being on a ship, he hadn't been out in a while. His visor darkened in response to the giant sun. If they weren't on a timer, he might have done a 360 to take in the rest of the solar system.

Behind them, the Vanguard hovered precariously, its engines flaring intermittently to keep it aligned with the station. The turret fire from earlier had stopped, but the threat of retaliation hung over them.

As Corbin reached the hatch, his gloved hands gripped the edges, and he oriented himself toward the manual controls. Inside, the faint glow of the emergency lights flickered, an unsettling sign that the station’s systems were watching.

A couple of minutes later, the emergency airlock hissed and clanked as Corbin cycled it, the pressure equalizing with a dull thud. He stepped inside the station, his boots clanging against the deck plates. The interior lighting flickered and danced as the airlock’s control panel blinked erratically.

Above him, a red claxon spun lazily, its silent warning light bathing the narrow corridor in a pulsing crimson glow. The eerie calm was unexpected. Corbin scanned the space with his sidearm drawn, his visor display feeding him data on oxygen levels and atmospheric pressure. All levels were normal.

But the faint hum of the station’s life-support systems was the only indication that it wasn’t entirely dead. The place had a lifelessness that set his nerves on edge, like walking through the hollow ribcage of a long-dead beast. Was it abandoned?

---

A moment later, the airlock behind him cycled again, the inner doors hissing open to admit Mercer.

Mercer takes a look around, he is mostly here to make sure Corbin is OK.

Corbin heads to the manual landing bay controls. He's going to cycle the outer doors so the ship can enter and land.

Corbin moves towards the docking bay, his steps cautious as he enters the cavernous space. The room was steeped in darkness, the only illumination coming from his suit’s headlamp and the faint, eerie glow of emergency strips running along the floor. The beam of his light danced across the scene, revealing smashed lighting fixtures hanging limply from the ceiling, their wires frayed and sparking faintly in the gloom.

Mercer followed close behind, his own light scanning the bay. The space was vast and empty, devoid of the ships that should have been docked there. His gaze settled on the enormous retractable floor panels that dominated the center of the bay, their edges marked with heavy-duty hinges and hydraulic pistons. These were the entry points—the massive doors that could slide open to let ships in or out.

"Well, there’s our way in," Corbin said, gesturing toward the panels. He moved toward a nearby console embedded in the wall. He activated it, but the screen flickered weakly before shutting off completely.

In the meantime, Mercer stepped forward, his boots crunching on shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. He looked into the darkness, his headlamp illuminating more signs of neglect: twisted conduits, scorch marks, and an overturned cargo loader lying in a heap near the far wall. For him, it felt like someone trashed the place on purpose.

The two exchanged a tense glance before Corbin moved toward the center of the bay, his light scanning for any intact terminals that could control the doors. Soon he found it. Unlike the first terminal he had tried, this one had a faint glow to its screen, indicating that it was still functional, albeit barely. He quickly brushed aside some shattered glass and debris covering the interface and tapped at the controls.

"Come on, work for me," he muttered under his breath, fingers dancing over the screen. Behind him, Mercer stood guard, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the bay.

Finally, a low hum vibrated through the bay as the terminal responded, a series of options appearing on the flickering screen. Corbin smirked, muttering, "Gotcha."

"What’s the status?" Mercer asked, his voice tense.

"Looks like the doors and environmental controls are still active," Corbin replied. "I can depressurize the bay and open the doors from here. But we’ll want to be quick once they’re open—no telling who or what’s watching this system."

Checking his comms, Corbin transmits to the ship, "Ok, Douklan, starting the depressurizing sequence now, the doors will open as soon as the pressure is low enough. As soon as your in, I'll reverse the process."

Going to look around and see if I can find any hints to the cause of this mess.

Douklan acknowledges, grateful for the contact. The fact that the firing had stopped had his nerves jangling almost as much as if they had continued being shot. What was going on?

Corbin monitored the console as the depressurization sequence progressed, the pressure gauge steadily dropping toward zero. The bay doors groaned and rumbled as they began to slide apart, revealing the vast emptiness of space beyond. The crimson light of the red giant star outside spilled into the bay, casting long, shifting shadows across the floor.

Nearby, Mercer moved cautiously through the bay, his headlamp cutting through the dim, debris-strewn space. He scanned for any signs of what had caused the damage, his sharp eyes picking through overturned crates, smashed light fixtures, and scattered tools. Nothing seems to make sense. Why would somebody do this on purpose?

As Mercer approached the far side of the bay, his beam landed on a sealed iris valve embedded in the wall. Its edges were dented but otherwise intact, and a faded label above it read CARGO AREA BETA-12. He examined the control panel next to the valve, but the system appeared unresponsive to his attempts to activate it. It buzzed, complaining. Without atmosphere, there was no way to open the door.

Meanwhile, the massive bay doors fully retracted as the depressurization completed. The Vanguard appeared in the gap, its thrusters firing in short, controlled bursts as it maneuvered into the docking bay. The vessel’s profile was bathed in the red glow of the star, its landing struts unfolding in preparation to set down.

Corbin stepped back from the console and watched, readying himself to reverse the depressurization once the Vanguard was safely inside.

Mercer will keep an eye out while the docking and disembarking finishes. It all seems suspicious; he would like to find out more, but not at the cost of being off-guard.

Corbin stepped back from the console and watched, readying himself to reverse the depressurization once the Vanguard was safely inside. Once the pressurization begins he'll turn to locate Mercer and scan around the rest of the bay.

"I didn't find any movement in the area. Seems clear. But there is some vandalism that tells me something unusual may be going on. "

Douklan, eager to get up and move around even if it means entering the hostile station on foot but simultaneously reluctant to cede control of their only escape to a bot, is torn enough that he looks to Hank for his reaction.