Gas leak, this place was going to blow any second. He could already feel the excess oxygen affecting him. Which pod had the leak? The computer systems weren’t working; he couldn’t open them automatically, he’d have to go row-by-row manually. Jesus, row-by-row. He had to focus. Janice first. They had to regain control of the ship. 

He could figure out where the leak was coming from later. Something heavy… He needed to get her out quickly. His pod had popped up quickly, releasing the failsafe mechanism. Normally, a process that took hours to decompress from happens in seconds. James still couldn’t hear and was shivering from the thin, damp clothes he still wore. He could hear the crackles of what he desperately hoped wasn’t broken glass, or even more pressing, a loose wire. 

He looked at the nameplates on the front of each pod, going alphabetically till he reached H. Hollday, Hollick, Hollioake, Hollis! He firmly gripped the breaker bar he had taken from the emergency supply kit. He raised it above his head. Bang!

He could feel the blood as it rushed back to his head. He was on the floor, looking up at the fuse boxes that were in the ceiling.  Mostly dark, lit only by the flashing red lights that warned him of danger. That’s not good, were they all blown? He sat up slowly, using the breaker bar he was unwittingly still holding to steady him. He stood tall in front of Janice’s pod, where the glass dome that covered her had been shattered, her head bleeding. Had he done this? Doesn’t matter; she’ll forgive him. He lifted her out of the pod, doing a poor job of it. He didn’t have his strength and dragged her body over the broken glass. I’m going to kill her, he thought briefly, before focusing on getting her to the exit. Bang!

He was inserting the square head of the breaker bar into the rotational shaft of a pod and pulling upward with all his strength. Where was Janice? The axle creaked before loosening, screaming with escaping air as the pod decompressed. Gotta keep going, he thought. It would take two minutes for the pod to crack open; in the meantime, he could start cracking open the others. Two minutes for normal emergency decompress. He grabbed the bar and moved down the line, switching over to get as many people from each row as he could. As people started to wake up, he made them do the same. What he didn't consider was the mass panic that would happen as people woke up, and before he could take another step, he was on the floor again.

Alphonse? His eyes fluttered open. He was on the floor again. He was incredibly sore. Christ, the antiskid has nearly taken off all the skin on his palms. He looked in front of him again and stared directly at his navigator. He blinked harder and raised his hand to place it on Al’s shoulder. He shook him hard.

“Al! We gotta move!” He yelled. And yelled again. Al was leaning up against the wall… Duh. Alphonse Alabaster. He was near the front, at the A pods! He looked up at the walls, using any light he could find to scan the metallic corridor. There! About 10 feet down, there was an oxygen tank. The green tank might as well be the waters of Lazarus, as without it, he was going to die. He sat up, leaving Al where he was, with a bloody handprint on his shoulder. He was trying to stand but stumbling along the wall, brushing the fiberglass insulation with his fingertips. The trek was harrowing, the stretch of a long jump standing between his life and Al’s. So he crawled. The antiskid slowly ripped through the fabric of his pants and scraped his knees.

The oxygen bottle had straps attached that you could put on your back and wear, and they were never stowed properly. The straps hung down to the ground, and James pulled as hard as he could. No use. Was it stuck? No, not stuck, stowed, as he just said. A metal clasp hugged the bottle against the ship’s walls. All it would take is one flip, and the bottle would fall. Proper aircraft safety will be his downfall. He got to his knees, working slowly so as not to pass out. The clasp was heavy and stuck, but he managed to flip it over, letting the bottle fall free.

He didn’t remember putting the mask on, but there he was, huffing the stale air of the bottle. Al next. He stood up, holding the bottle by the straps and running over to Al. There was one mask, but they can share it until they’re out of this container. He painfully dropped to his knees and quickly placed the mask over Al’s face, letting him breathe while shaking the crap out of him.

“Al! Al! There’s a leak! A leak! I need help!” He shouted. Should he move on? Is his friend gone? How many more people need to get out? Twenty thousand people aboard. How many did he save? The crowd rushed past them, some looking for help, some running to the exits, and others staying to help get others out. To get their families out. And Janice…

“I hear you… Always so loud,” The navigator said, sitting up on his own. Something gone right, James thought.

“We have time!” He yelled at Al. Al nodded knowingly. Of course, he knew the situation. Half of their training was for emergency situations. But being in the emergency, being in the situation. Who gave a shit about training? They stood up, and Al passed the mask to James. James grabbed Al first, embracing him for a few moments. They took a second to look at each other before breaking apart, as they both hoped to see their friend again.

He struggled to crack open a pod on his own. The bar's weight slowed him down, as his lack of muscle mass prevented him from pushing himself further. His navigator sighed heavily as he weighed their options. “Get out of here, Alphonse,”

“Yeah, okay, after this.” He said, grabbing the end of the bar and helping James to lift together, releasing the mechanism. They moved down the line, sweating now. The temperature was increasing, which couldn't be good. Shit, has Regina regained control? Or were they just swinging through space?

His answer didn't come right away, but he heard her. “James, James!” She shouted, trying to find him in the crowd.  He shook his head. If she found him, she wouldn't leave him. And he did not intend to leave this room if there were still others to save. The air was getting difficult to breathe, and those sounds he didn't like were getting louder in his ear. This place had to be quarantined soon.

The computers didn't work, but the emergency alarm probably did. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the handle of the alarm on the wall, and pulled it. The lights turned red, a single loud siren sounded, and then a calm overhead voice spoke. “Thirty seconds after this announcement, the fire suppression system will be enabled. Please clear the room as the agent removes oxygen from the area. Please evacuate now.” The voice concluded, followed by an ear-piercing siren. The crowd ducked from the sudden noise, and people went from rushed to fleeing, forcing Regina and the rest of the survivors to the latter half of the ship. James watched as they ran out, nodding his head to the music of their footsteps. 

James collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Al sat down next to him, plopping as he did. 

“They won’t all make it out in time. Was it worth it?” Al asked. James laughed and slapped Alphonse on the chest. 

“Of course it was worth it. It’s always worth it to try. We aren't exactly making it out either, pal.” James said back. Al smiled and rubbed his chest lightly. 

“We knew that was a possibility before we left,” Al retorted. They both smiled.

“I wanted to see it,” James said. “I wanted to see it with her.” Al slapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe on the next run, friend.” James looked him in the eyes and nodded. He stuck out his right hand, which Al clasped with his remaining strength. Using his left hand to clasp the back of James' neck, James reciprocated as they placed their foreheads against each other, waiting for the fire together.