In Case of Emergency

M Rae
10/12/2023

Image description: a yellow instruction manual titled ‘In case of an emergency, trust your human’ covered in blue and green splashes of liquid.

In case of emergency: trust your human. I read the title of the guide for the thousandth time. Despite my ill feelings, I am determined to find comfort in those words. The Cthoa Senate on Alpha Prime had recently determined that human engines were the most efficient for space travel. All ships, including my precious Kaltra-V, were promptly issued a human engine and a human engineer to maintain it. And since most space emergencies were due to engine failure, this meant that humans were the best creatures to have aboard any vessel. Especially in case of emergencies.

‘Captain Inni, the human engineer has arrived.’ A voice on the communicator speaks.

My ocular organs scan over the document in scrutiny. I ensured my crew and I read and reread the manual. I am confident of our ability to integrate well with our latest human crewmate. In response to the earlier call, I sent my first officer, who is more familiar with the humans of Earth, to welcome them aboard.

It felt an eternity by the time the bridge doors hiss open and First Mate, Kella, returns. Trellian roses waft in their presence. It’s a pleasant break from the sterile scent that usually covers most of the ship.

‘Is it true?’ I ask. My fingers thrum rapidly on the arm of my chair.

‘Yes.’

There is no need for further conversation, and I return to my reviewing of the manual. Oxygenii is important for thrust in space. We know it as a highly combustible, highly toxic, source of fuel found on many uninhabited worlds. Uninhabited save one – Earth. Humans have not only evolved to work within oxygenii environments, but to thrive in them. Humans are rumoured to also thrive on the trace amounts of solar radiation that is critical for the oxygenii engines to function. A radiation detrimental to all other known species.

 Kella’s confirmation surges through me like lightning. Trembling fingers cause the manual to shake. Ocular organs stare unfocused at the forward portal where the endless blanket of stars stare emotionlessly back at me. Thoughts whiz through my mind so rapidly I am unable to catch a single one. Paper crunches where it crumples in my tightening fist.

‘The human is settled. Shall I continue our heading?’ Kella says.

My head slowly nods my assent. It is only through controlled inhalation and equally controlled exhalation that my thundering heart slows. I know I shouldn’t be so worried. Not when having a human means a perfectly functioning engine. I won’t deny myself the truth, my ship is in need of repair. Without the human we would all be stranded with no way home. I cling to both the thought of home and the warm wafting scent of Trellian roses. Another controlled inhale and exhale soothes the trembling and I once again find equilibrium. As Captain of the ship, it would do no good to appear disoriented from such irrational fears. Eight of my long digits gently caress the smooth pages of the manual. These are the indelible words from Alpha Prime. I lean back in my chair as the last tendril of tension escapes my body. Familiar vibrations tickle my toes as my ship rumbles to life. Warmth spreads through my body at the welcoming sight of moving stars beyond the forward window. With the manual by my side, what could go wrong?

#

In Case of Emergency: trust your human. I forcefully remind myself. It has only been a handful of sleep-wake cycles since the human joined us and as feared, they are needed. My breathing is laboured as digits rapidly flick through the pages of the manual trying to find the emergency checklist. Keep crew to the living decks. Lock command. Open all bulkheads to allow the human freedom of movement. Turn on all lights to illuminate the endless white passages so the human can see what they are doing. And then trust the human to do their job.

‘Warning: Oxygenii leak detected in main core.’ The ship’s computer announces in a soulless tone.

This is where trust for the human becomes important. Communication is futile. Human language is so different from ours that the computers take too long to communicate the translations. Often the translation needs further clarification. Even a simple ‘What is happening?’ would take too long to transcribe back and forth. Hence, all I can do is wait and trust my human. I must trust they will fix the issue causing the emergency.

‘Warning:  Oxygenii detected in main array.’

It’s odd that it has spread. Uncommon but not unheard of.  It’s clear the problem is bigger than I originally assumed. I know it’ll be alright. I just have to stay on command and let the human do its job. I begin making the plans in my mind for when the human is done, knowing that I will probably have to organise a rescue to the nearest Unified Space Station.

‘Warning: Oxygenii detected in living decks.’

Something deep within my stomachs clenches and sinks. Oxygenii can only enter the living decks if it is done deliberately. I don’t understand why, but it’s clear that the human is being malicious. I frantically flick through the manual but nowhere amongst its pages does it explain what to do if the human is the source of the emergency.

‘Inni,’ Kella speaks, their neck sacks wriggling nervously, ‘I forgot to tell the human that the last one died.’

My dentrils go stiff. All seven of my ocular organs open wide. A passage in the manual springs to mind. If a human dies on your vessel you need to tell the next human. They won’t take non-disclosure as a sign of respecting the dead, but of covering up ill deed. The human will become enraged and vengeful. No crew ever survives a human attack.

Despite the sluggish translator, every crew member is now pleading to the human. They try to explain that the other human accidentally ejected themselves into space and died. My dentrils begin coiling tightly, knowing there is no way to explain this. All I can do is send our apologies of failure to Alpha Prime.

A scent of Trellian roses envelopes my senses as Kella seeks physical comfort with me. Their limbs tremble where they cling to me tightly. My own limbs are unsteady where they return the gesture. Alarms in the form of sound and light spread across command. I try to comfort Kella, but I know it is of no use. We are both terrified. The familiar hiss of the command door opening is accompanied by small ominous footsteps.

‘Warning: Oxygenii detected in command.’

From the floor, scarcely able to breathe, I see the human. I don’t need a translator to understand the anger and betrayal staring back at me. And as my ocular organs close from rasping death, I see the friendly lettering of the manual once more:

In Case of Emergency: trust your human.

***

I am a creative writer from Ballarat, Victoria. I specialise in science-fiction and fantasy. As a member of the LGBT+ community, I enjoy focusing on same-sex relationships, non-traditional genders. I am currently studying for a Bachelor of the Arts with a major in writing.