March 2010 The underwater station might as well be in the vacuum of space. Our oxygen generators are broken, environmental systems are failing, and lights are flickering their hearts out. At least nothing's sprung a leak. Yet. Lassiter and I are running at a full sprint down the narrow hallway, but our progress comes to a grinding halt when we reach a fork in the tunnel. Left or right? A flash of an image: I recall the unofficial layout of the station from a map I may or may not have wrangled from a drunk first mate. "I'm sensing left!" I shout over the ambient noise of the dying station. "How would you know that?" "Really, Lassie, after all this time, don't ya trust me?" A beat. "If you're leading us the wrong way, Spencer, I will kill you myself." When we get to the escape pods - because of course we're going the right way, don't insult me - there's a woman near us, kneeling over an unconscious woman with long, curly blonde hair. I don't recognize either of them, but I get the feeling that the unconscious woman might die if we don't get her out of here soon. The woman - the conscious one, we'll call her Joy - spots us and points at me, "You, in the t-shirt, I need some help here. Help me lift her into the escape pod." I hurry over to their side, and pull the unconscious blonde's left arm over my shoulders. Joy takes the right side and three - two - one - lift! Lassiter hovers over Joy's shoulder (not literally, I feel compelled to point out) in case we need help. More help. The "escape pods" are basically miniature submarines scattered throughout the station, designed for a one-way trip to the surface. They're also very small. Sparks are shooting everywhere, but I'm focused on the escape pod. "Hang on a minute," I say to Joy. The door to the pod is open, possibly jammed that way. And there's something wrong with the controls. The autopilot, maybe? "There's no way we're going to make it to the surface in that." I say. "Are there any escape pods left?" asks Lassiter. Flash. Two escape pods to the northwest, through a section that would be venting poison gas into the hallway right about now. That's the quickest route. I shake my head. "We can't make it." Joy looks at me, considering. "Not with the two of us, you mean," she nods at her friend. Lassiter and I, and Joy, even, could make it to the remaining shuttles. There's no way we could make it while dragging an unconscious woman with us. And we're not leaving her behind; we're the heroes in this story! "We're going to have to make it work." Somehow, we do. When we surface in the pod, and climb out, we're not greeted by sunlight, but what looks like a conference room with a pool. Several men in suits are staring at us expectantly. From my position, balanced on top of the pod, I hone in on the man who's in charge of this whole fiasco. He's smiling. I sigh. "I have to go down there again, don't I?" This time, it has sprung a leak. Doomed Research Stations. Scare Factor: 3.
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