Don’t look back. James told himself as he sprinted down the corridor, gripping his screwdriver so hard his hand was numb. Don’t look back. Loud whooping sirens filled the corridor with so much noise that he could hardly think. 

A laser shot struck the floor near his left foot; the sensors had triggered the small ceiling-mounted turret connected to the security system. They were installed in every corridor of the space station for ‘safety’. 

A few shots grazed his shoulder, his arm and his thigh. By some miracle, he managed to reach the door to Section J18; the medical wing. James had mere nano-seconds to swipe his wrist chip as a shot hit the back of his right calf. With a pained grunt, he fell through the open door and landed hard on the ground. James immediately rolled off to the left and squeezed himself against the wall as tightly as he could. 

Shots zapped around his head and torso, pinning him in place. Each corridor had a slim spot where the turrets couldn’t quite reach. He’d only survived this long by sprinting from dead spot to dead spot, but he was running out of time.

The turrets swivelled away from him. They had a new target. James looked back through the door to see the Sentinel was gaining on him. The turret’s shots rippled like lightning over its white-plated armour as it approached rapidly. 

The killing machines were disturbingly human-shaped, but they had convex, black screens instead of faces. On this one were the words ‘Terminate Fugitive’ in big bold font.

James quickly turned to the wall beside him and slipped the screwdriver into the seam where two metal panels met. “Come on, come on!” he muttered between his teeth as he strained all his weight into attempting to pry one of the panels away. 

The screwdriver snapped under the intense pressure. There was only just enough room for his hand to slip in. There was no time left; the Sentinel had almost reached the door.

James grabbed one of the pipes behind the wall panel before yanking as hard as he could. A hot, blue fluid splashed over his hand, scalding his bare flesh. He shrieked, scrambling away from the leaking line when power in the corridor shut off, silencing the sirens and disabling the turrets. The door slammed closed with a deafening sound so loud he felt like it stopped his heart for a second.

James knelt, panting in place for what felt like an eternity to catch his breath. He was safe for now. Even a Sentinel couldn’t open those heavy metal doors easily; they were designed to isolate sections of the space station in emergencies, like fires or hull breaches. 

The backup system flickered the lights back on and James finally had a chance to take in the state of the new corridor. Bodies were scattered everywhere. Guilt stabbed at his chest. They were all people he knew, coworkers and close friends. This is my fault.

“Dad!” a voice echoed down the corridor.

James’ head whipped up to see his teenage son running toward him. “I told you to stay put!”

“You stopped answering my calls.”

“Stupid, stupid boy. If I am not responding, I am already dead!”

The young man flinched and looked down at his own feet.

James sighed with relief when he confirmed that his son was unharmed. “I’m glad you’re safe, Caleb… We need to get to the emergency dock. They brought Sentinels.”

Caleb’s face blanched. Outrunning a Sentinel was near-impossible. They were stronger and faster than a human, not to mention they were powered by supercomputers that could calculate quicker than most humans could think. In a man versus machine scenario, the man almost never won.

Pain seared through James’ right leg when he stood. “It’ll slow us down if we keep going like this,” he hissed, nodding to an open door nearby, “That’s an operating theatre. I need to patch up first.”

Caleb nodded and supported James under his arm.

It seemed like whoever was in the theatre last left in a hurry. Used surgical tools were still out on a little trolley in the middle of the room. They didn’t get far. James tried not to think about the friends who littered the corridor outside. He knew what he was doing when he made his choice. He knew no one else would likely survive. He also knew that he would make the same choice again, even if he could start over. This is my fault.

“Check that cabinet. You’ll find a paramedic’s kit in a bag,” James said as he pulled away from his son to use a bench for support instead, “We’ll take it with us.”

James knew these rooms like the back of his hand, so it was easy for him to find the medication he needed. It was a clear, sticky balm that he wiped over the wound in his leg. The pain began to fade almost immediately and the bleeding stopped. The wonders of modern science. It wouldn’t repair the damage, but it would keep him moving.

“Bring the bag here, this will be useful, too,” he instructed, waving Caleb over from across the room. 

Caleb didn’t move. Instead, his wide stare was fixed on the operating table in the middle of the room. He took a step back before his frightened eyes met with his father’s. 

James frowned and moved toward the table. “What is it?”

“I… don’t know…” Caleb shook his head. All the blood seemed to have drained from his face.

James examined the table himself, but couldn’t see anything noteworthy. It was just bloody cloth, tools and— James thought his heart stopped a second time.

A small body lay under the cloth. Of course, the patient would still be there. 

On closer inspection, the child had a surgical incision behind his ear where hardware had been screwed into his skull. He was still hooked up to a small monitor resting nearby. A red warning pulsed on the screen: 

‘Critical Error: Upload interrupted at 14%. Permanent corruption has occurred. Permanent corruption is irreversible.’ 

The child had been in the middle of a brain implant when the systems were cut off. 

This is my fault. It took all of James’ willpower not to break down in tears. The child’s nose was bleeding, likely caused by a disconnect between the hardware and software that wasn’t installed correctly. The boy was only 4 years old.

James knew this child better than he knew the corpses in the corridor. He’d watched him grow from an infant who could barely open his eyes to a shy, inquisitive child with an unparalleled curiosity for the world around him. To say they were close would be an understatement; the child was like another son to James. 

“Is he…” Caleb asked nervously.

“He’s alive.”

James disconnected the monitor and gently stroked the child’s hair with a shaky hand. The weight of his consequences came crashing down on him so hard that he couldn’t bear it anymore. He could taste bile in the back of his mouth as the floodgates opened.

“I did this...” James sobbed as he leaned down to press his forehead to the back of the child’s little hand. “I’m sorry, Little Star. Don’t ever forgive me.” 

“This isn’t your fault!” Caleb objected.

“Of course it is!” James snapped back, making Caleb jump, “I knew that people would die. I knew I was condemning everyone on this floating piece of sh-” In a rage, James threw the monitor he’d disconnected across the room. It smashed against the wall and the pieces scattered across the floor. 

James pointed a burned finger at Caleb across the table. “Even you. I knew I was risking your life as well. I chose this. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever forget that I am the monster that did this. I did this. It was me!”

Caleb opened his mouth to say something, but the child on the table started convulsing, sending tools flying off the table. They both watched helplessly, unable to process what was happening at first. The child was having a seizure. 

When the little boy was about to slip off the table, James caught him before he could hit the floor.

“Red cabinet! Clear bottle!” James yelled, laying the child down and cradling his head, “Label is an upside down ‘A’ with three horizontal lines!” 

Caleb found the medicine easily. It was a cloudy, deep blue fluid that swirled angrily in the bottle. He handed the medicine with a fresh syringe to his father, watching closely with deep fascination.

A moment after the boy had been injected, the seizure subsided and he went limp in James’ arms. 

“Take him,” James instructed, handing the boy to his son.

 Caleb seemed to be at a loss as he hugged the child close to his chest while watching his father move about the room. “What are you doing?” he asked when James filled the paramedic bag from the red cabinet.

“He’s going to need it, and it’ll be hard to get on the Surfaces.”

“You’re bringing him with us?”

“He’ll die if we leave him.”

“You told me not to save anyone! You told me more people will slow us down! You told-”

“I know!” James snapped, slamming his scalded fist on a bench, “I know. Please, Caleb. I need to do this. Please don’t stop me.”

Caleb swallowed hard and nodded. His father was already in such a state that arguing would just make it worse.

James led the way down three more corridors before they came across a door that wouldn’t open, no matter how many times he swiped his ID. The burn prevented the ID chip in his wrist from reading. He swore and punched at the door, tearing blistered skin. “Open, damn you!”

Caleb was too young to have ID access to restricted areas. The emergency dock was on the other side of this door. It was their last obstacle; they were trapped at the finish line. 

“The green wire, then the red one,” slurred the boy in Caleb’s arms. The child pointed to the door sensor. “Hard reset.”

Caleb’s mouth dropped open. “What?” He hadn’t realised the boy was awake.

“It’s his implant.” James tried to explain, “When he was connected to the tablet, he was connected to the station mainframe as well. He was inside for a long time. He probably knows what’s happening in the systems better than we do.” 

James had already opened the sensor panel before Caleb could even process what was happening. First, he pulled the green wire, then the red wire. There was a dull thud like something shifted inside the door.

“Access code 1563,” the boy mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and leaned into Caleb’s neck.

Behind the wires, there was a small keypad. James punched in the code and the door slid open… and so did every other door. They were free to continue, but so was the Sentinel.

James and Caleb stared at each other for the briefest of moments, pure terror in their eyes. 

They ran.

Sentinels always used hand-to-hand combat. A relentless killing machine that relied on creative ways to kill their targets didn’t need firearms. If a Sentinel was after you, guilty or not, you did not want to get caught.

An echoing clunk clunk clunk of metal feet matched the sound of their hearts beating fiercely in their chests. By the time they reached the launch pad, the Sentinel was well within sight. 

There were a total of 12 shuttles in this wing of the station. All of them were still present, which meant no one else had escaped. James knew it might happen, but he still expected at least some other survivors.

Caleb and the boy were ushered onto an escape shuttle before James keyed in a destination on the control panel. The nearest surface was Koros, a backwater planet with very little infrastructure. It would take 2 weeks to get there using an emergency vehicle designed for low power consumption.

“Doctor!” the boy cried out.

It was too late. The Sentinel grabbed James by the back of his neck and pulled him away from the pod, throwing him halfway across the dock.

“Dad!” Caleb screamed. The Sentinel turned to him.

“N-No, not them!” James called out from the floor. He could barely move. Something was broken.

The Sentinel scanned both boys and seemed to stall for a moment. Its robotic voice announced, “Unexpected variables. Confirmation requested.”

James scrambled to an external launch console nearby. His arm was broken and his hands were so shaky that he almost mistyped his passcode. The remote launch screen booted up, connecting to the shuttle the boys were on. 

James locked the door to the emergency shuttle.

“Dad? What are you doing? Get in!” Caleb screamed clearly through the open voice channels, banging on the window of the shuttle door. 

“When you get to the Surfaces, sell the medical supplies and buy new identities,” James said as he leaned on the console.

He could see them clearly on the terminal screen. His brave, intelligent son and his bright, little star. James was so proud.

“Orders confirmed. Priority: Terminate Doctor James Furlow,” the Sentinel announced and turned away from the shuttle.

“Please, no…” Caleb’s voice cracked through sobs. 

The child wailed, hitting the door with his little fists.

“I love you. Both of you. Keep each other safe.”

James hit the launch button.