Ficlets

Steam hissed over the suited away party. The computer detected no contamination. “Frosty, we’re proceeding with hatch-open’”
“You are free for hatch-open, be careful,” said Frosty.
“Will do,” Locke agreed.
Karapanov nodded and heaved on the hatch-lock and gave it a spin. A loud sucking sound could be heard as air vented into the Karama. Doc Morris helped swing the heavy hatch open to a dark, forboding opening. Red lights flashed.
“What the hell!” Jim rushed in.
“Wait!” Locke cried. Jim ignored her. Karapanov shoved the captain aside, entering first. Locke stood at the mouth of the derelict awaiting the OK from her russian officer.
Karapanov nodded, and Locke entered, “you can’t go rushing forward like that Jim!” she said.
Her voice trailed off as she saw what had sparked the docs curiosity. “What is it?”
“A pet of some kind? That’s one ugly cat,” Karapanov asked.
Jim shook his head. “It’s alive whatever it is.”
The creature, no larger than a dog, looked up with black eyes.It mouthed, “Help me,”