He bolted down the hallway as fast as his tired legs could manage. A glance over his shoulder confirmed it wasn’t far behind. He skidded to a stop in front of the communication room door and, when he was inside, he sealed the door behind him.
“It’s liquid. The door is water-tight, right?” He said, looking for anything else to keep the creature at bay. Readying his pistol, he braced himself against the communication panel.
It wouldn’t take him without a fight.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he flipped on the power to the communication equipment and waited. When the power-up cycle had completed, the static on the intercom stopped. He spun around and punched in the sequence for an outpost in distress and waited.
“Odd that they turned off the communication system but didn’t destroy it?” He thought, his eyes trained on the door. Without the extra white noise from the comms, the room felt as dead as a tomb.
“Mining Outpost Seven, what is your distress?” A voice called from just over his shoulder.
He did not want to turn his attention from the door. If the creature could slip around the seal, it would likely do so without making a sound. But he could not communicate with the rest of the sector if he did not.
Drawing in a deep breath, he spun around and tapped a small orange key on the control panel.
“This is currier…” he stopped for a moment. If he told them his name, he would be forever marked, perhaps even isolated for the rest of his life in a contamination room. If he did not, maybe he could avoid this on his record.
“I’m a carrier out of Oklahoma Six. I crash landed on Mining Outpost Seven while delivering a package. I’m requesting immediate evacuation for myself. There’s something here, it killed the crew.”
“A currier?” The man at the other end of the call said with an Earthly southern drawl. “What are your coordinates?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and when he did not see the creature he punched in the coordinates from his watch. After he had sent them, he turned his back to the screen and waited.
“We’re dispatching the rescue team from the local station, but the storm on that planet will delay extraction. Are you in a position to wait it out?”
“I’m holed up in the communication room,” he said. “I’m not even sure where the thing is, or if it knows where I am.”
“Sit tight, the storm should be away from you in about six hours. If you don’t signal from the ground, we’ll send in the evacuation team.”
That meant trouble.
“Send a shuttle, not a team,” he said. “It’s too risky.”
“We have our protocols to follow.”
“I’ll be in the canyon, or I’ll be dead. Just bring the ship.”
“Good luck. This completes transmission,” the man said. And then he was gone.
In the intensity of the conversation, he had forgotten to watch the door. With a quick motion, he turned around wiht his pistol ready. A sigh of relief and a quick smile escaped his mouth when it was still sealed.
As the cover for the ventilation system clanged to the floor, his relief died a quick death.