Try the door

Running headlong into the eerie mist feels like a bad idea. The only thing behind you is the elevator, which jammed mid-floor and might only be able to return, if it moves at all, to whatever horror was above.

Trying the door beside you, no matter the state of the access, panel makes sense. In fact, getting through this airtight door and closing it to miasma flooding into the corridor is probably the only thing you can do.

The door buzzes as it rejects your open request. The access button doesn't flash, the green illuminated key symbol unblinking, and the mist edges closer.

Trying not to panic you try a few of the access codes you know. General energy access; you stab in the predictable 123-56 number, 56 being the level of the station you're currently on. Buzz. The shadows in the rolling cloud of alien fog flick back and forth.

Recalling how the elevator didn't align to the level correctly you theorise that perhaps the station computer has its mapping corrupted. 123-55. Denied. 123-57. Buzz. You try the emergency number two access public areas for the levels above and below.

No luck and the miasma, silent and persistent, continues its steady pace towards you.

Staying calm you try other numbers, starting with access codes for elsewhere like your room, science labs and store cupboards.

The mist is close now, if you stretched out an arm you could touch it.

Partially numbers come to mind. You're pretty sure Lieutenant Brigg had an access code that began 561 when he led the science recruits tour of this level. 561-01, you try, 561-02, next and you keep going.

The mist swirls around your feet.

561-78, 561-79, 561-80 and your fingers fly across the stubborn key pad. You're a super fast typer.

The miasma is as high as your knees. There's definitely something in the fog with you. It's silent but the dark patches that float around a few feet from you can't just be shadows. They move randomly but independently from the light. Their shape is too clearly defined as well, blocks of darkness rather than smears of thicker mist.

The miasma feels cool as it's tendrils circle your neck.