“Yes, sir!” Victor started from the command center into one of the winding corridors.
Kanpei rounded the main console, pulling up the security displays and making sure that guards remained posted at each of the entrances. “How are things?” he asked the mates in the command center. “Everything in order?” They began to respond, however Kanpei quickly cut them off, something on the display catching his eye. “Hold on, why isn't there a guard posted at this entrance?” he asked, pointing to the display. “The Captain ordered a guard to every entrance. Where did he go?”
It was one of the small side doors, a narrow passage in the vicinity of the mess hall. Kanpei tinkered with the security camera, scanning the hall as far as the lens would allow. Still, he found no trace of a guard. “Who was posted at that door?” he asked. “Whoever was supposed to be posted there... Get someone out there immediately to take his place and find him for me. He's in for a reprimand.”
The entryway in question was darkened by a shadow. Someone was entering the ship. Relief washed over the Quartermaster at first. “Oh, is that him? Where the hell was he?” he asked. Though, as he studied the footage more closely, terror gripped his chest. Whoever was entering the ship was most certainly not one of their crew. Of this, Kanpei felt quite sure. Moreover, though the grainy video feed made it somewhat difficult to discern the specifics of the individual's appearance, he appeared to Kanpei not a little queer. The general shape of the body, though humanoid, suggested something altogether separate from humankind. An intruder! His eyes went wide and his pulse raced. “Good lord,” he muttered before regaining his wits. The intruder disappeared down the hallway, no longer captured by the camera. “I need men at entrance 23-B now! There's an intruder!” he called through the intercom. “The intruder is presumed to be hostile. Exercise extreme caution. We need him apprehended at once!”
The corridors were filled with the footfalls of crewmen dashing to entrance 23-B, rifles in hand. Kanpei paced about the command center, eyeing the security feed nervously. “Pull up the feed for the exterior cameras. How did that individual get inside the dock? We're supposed to be in complete lockdown.”
One of the mates pulled up the video feed for the outside camera and sent it to the main display, but a careful perusal of the footage yielded nothing. Kanpei sped up the footage, working through it over and over again, cursing under his breath. There was nothing to be found of the intruder. Either the camera hadn't captured the point of entry, or the intruder had been hidden somewhere in the dock area from the start.
“Report. Have you intercepted him, yet?” asked the Quartermaster through the intercom. He waited with bated breath for a response. None came. Kanpei waited for a few moments before repeating himself. “Have you apprehended the intruder yet?” Suddenly, there was a call to the command center's direct line. Kanpei answered it at once. “Yes?”
The crewman calling the bridge could be heard to pant wildly, as though he were running as hard as he could. “Sir!” he blurted. “We've found him, but-- sir--” the next bit was unintelligible.
“What's that?” asked Kanpei.
The crewman gasped into his transmitter, the sounds of his heavy steps echoing through the hall. “It ain't human!” Gunfire followed, drowning out the sounds of the man's frenzied flight. And then the line went dead.
“Come in,” demanded Kanpei. “Are you there, mate?”
Silence reigned.
CHAPTER 5
“S-so, what do we do?” asked one of them. “W-we spl-split up, er...?”
Darren took the lead, pistol in hand. “Yes, we're going to split up,” he said as they reached one of the halls adjacent to entrance 23-B. “We'll cover more ground that way.”
A group of crewmen had stormed onto the scene at Kanpei's command, but found themselves not at all prepared for a fight. Two janitors, armed with knives, a stuttering gunner, used to fighting from the inside of a well-shielded battlecruiser, and Darren, a pilot. This was apparently the best that Methuselah had to offer on such short notice.
Drawing in a deep breath, Darren continued. “You boys,” he told the janitors, “stick together. Those knives aren't exactly optimal weapons, so you'll need power in numbers in case you find the guy. Head around the corner there and make sure he doesn't make it towards the bridge. You,” he said, pointing to the shaky gunner with a rifle in his hands, “stay put. Keep a lookout for him down this hall. And, uh, if you're gonna shake like that, do us all a favor and don't fire that rifle. Call for help instead. Got that?”
They all nodded. “A-and you?” asked the gunner.
“I'm headed over to 23-B. I'll go from there towards the mess hall. This is a big ship, and there's no telling where he'll end up. By starting out at the point where he entered, I hope I can get onto his trail. Keep your wits about ya.”
Darren departed. Making his way through the hall as quietly as the metal floors would allow, he paused at an intersection and surveyed the area, peering cautiously around the corner. His finger caressed the trigger of his pistol, ready to squeeze at even the slightest movement. Finding the atrium empty, he continued on, rounding the corner and starting down the long stretch which would lead to 23-B.
He hadn't done much in the way of close-quarters combat. Like the others, he'd assumed a role on Methuselah, and rarely found it necessary to diverge from it. The ship needed him now, however, and he'd vowed to put his life on the line for her. It didn't matter that he wasn't in the cockpit of a starfighter. It occurred to him as he peered about the hall for signs of the intruder, that the Quartermaster hadn't given a description of any sort. Just who was he after? Could the intruder be... an alien? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
A rustling caught his attention, and in an instant the tip of his pistol was trained on the source of the sound. It was one of the vents; a burst of air had seen one of the screws rattle in its socket. His quivering hands clasped around the pistol, he couldn't even bring himself to laugh it off. Darren continued towards the mess hall, which had fallen eerily silent. Ordinarily the staff would be hard at work preparing a meal at this time. As the mess hall came into view, he noticed that the entrance to the kitchen had been shut, probably locked, and that the staff were likely inside, waiting for the intruder to be apprehended.
Surveying the dining hall, he found nothing of note. The metallic tables remained in their usual positions, arranged in rows and wiped clean by the custodians after the last meal, so that they gleaned in the light. Darren turned around and sighed, preparing to send off a transmission to let the bridge know that the mess hall was clear.
And then he saw it.
In the hallway outside the mess hall, grasping a beam on the ceiling and beaming back at him, were two large, black eyes. He didn't even need to appraise the whole of the thing staring back at him to know that its gaze was pregnant with hostility. He'd found the intruder. Was that thing on the ceiling when I walked past earlier? The thought that he'd walked by and not noticed the thing only moments ago made his stomach roil.
The intruder dropped down from the ceiling and hit the floor in a tight crouch before springing out at him. It was blue-skinned and scaly, dressed only in a simple, brown garb. The thing loosed a frightful wail and reached out with a handful of jet black claws, swiping at Darren.
Stunned, his ears ringing for the creature's terribly cry, he stumbled back and evaded the strike. His pistol registered, but he'd hit the trigger before he'd even taken aim, his hand shaking too hard. The beam scorched the floor and the attacker, unfazed, dashed at him anew.
Darren did the only thing he could think of. He ran past the thing, taking off down the hall as fast as his legs could take him. He tried to call out for help, but found his voice caught up in his throat. He held the pistol down at his side to make sure he wouldn't accidentally discharge it again and dialed the bridge.
The Quartermaster answered. “Yes?”
“We've found him, but-- sir--” panted Darren, his legs burning and th
e creature in hot pursuit.
“What's that?” asked Kanpei.
“It ain't human!” gasped Darren, firing into the hall behind him and taking off once more. To his horror, the thing bolted across the wall, taking long, galloping leaps and closing the distance between them. It evaded each blast, unflinching in its pursuit.
Losing his footing, Darren tripped as he rounded a corner. His transmitter hit the ground first, breaking into pieces and cutting the line. The thundering footfalls of the creature rang in his ears, the claws on its stumpy, scaled feet clacking against the floors.
The alien bounded at him.
***
Stella put on her headset and began running another round of system maintenance. If there's nothing wrong with the generator, then there HAS to be something wrong with it on my end! I know what I sensed out there. The system came to life and one-by-on, she threw the switches, testing each function and making sure that it was aligned with her expectations. There was no delay to any of S.A.L.V.O's processes that she could discern. She ran each one once more before growing exasperated and realizing she was simply wasting time and resource.
Removing the headset and leaning back, Stella sighed. If that was an anomaly, then it was unlike any other ghost I've ever picked up. It had weight. Substance. It was machined. I could tell as if I were holding it in my hands. And yet--
Her ears perked up at a new noise. She was sitting along in her chamber with the hatch sealed, and knew that none of the crew had any business lingering outside her door. That was when she realized it, gauging the noise, which issued from the hall. What I'm hearing... this isn't one of the crew. Strained, almost wheezy breathing teased her ears. She could hear it plainly, despite the dense steel barrier that closed her off from the rest of the ship. Just outside the hatch, breathing hard, she heard someone... or something she didn't recognize. She couldn't even be sure that it was human. She'd certainly never heard a human breath that way. Stella focused, listening closely.
The individual outside the S.A.L.V.O chamber muttered something, though to Stella, in her chamber, it came through like a roar. She didn't recognize the language, and her sensitive ears proved most opposed to its harsh tones. Wincing, she threw her hands up to her ears. Who... or what is out there? She wondered. Is this the intruder? An alien... intruder?
Like nails on a chalkboard, her delicate ears were filled with a cacophony. The intruder outside was dragging something sharp along the outside of the hatch. Solid... sharpened... bone-like density. They're claws. It's dragging its claws along the outside of the hatch, she realized, her ears pained by the sound.
As calmly as she could manage, she picked up her transmitter and dialed the bridge. “M-m-mr. Kanpei?” she said quietly.
“Stella? Yes?” came the Quartermaster's reply after a time.
“Outside the S.A.L.V.O chamber. There... there's... someone o-outside it, in the hallway. S-someone who shouldn't be there!”
“What?” blurted Kanpei. “Are you certain? I'll send someone at once.”
Suddenly, the thing took off. Stella listened as its footfalls died off far into the distance. She tried to listen for it a while longer, but the sounds of its flight mingled with the other sounds of the ship, making it difficult to suss out. “He's gone now. He took off down the hall. I couldn't tell which way he went after a while. Might've been the hangar... or maybe towards the mess hall.”
“Got it,” replied Kanpei, cutting the line.
Stella sat in silence for some time, her ears still ringing. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” she asked herself. “These are... such terrible creatures.”
***
Faust was just finishing his meal with the Weatherby brothers when his mobile transmitter went off. The red-nosed brothers were chuckling about something when the buzzing of the transmitter saw them fall silent. Faust apologized to his hosts and picked up. It was evidently a call from the command center. “Yes?” he answered.
“Captain, there's been an intruder. Someone's on the ship... and I'm not entirely sure they're human,” explained a nervous Kanpei.
The brothers grew wide-eyed as they listened. “Intruder?” they gasped in unison. “An alien? How?”
Faust stood up, slamming down his wine glass. “Apprehend him at once. Everyone onboard is to arm themselves, and if possible, I want the intruder to be kept alive. Is that understood? I'm on my way to the dock as we speak.”
“Yes, sir. We'll do our best.”
Ending the transmission, Faust started from the table, cursing under his breath. “Sorry to cut things short.”
“Alberich,” called out Dominic after him. “We'll assist you. Wait for us.”
“Yes,” continued Francis, coming up behind the Captain and punching a number into his transmitter. “I'll send word to our security services. Methuselah's dock will be surrounded at once. We leave a troop of our men at your disposal.”
Faust nodded. “I appreciate it. Come, let us make haste to Methuselah.” He gripped the beam saber at his side. “Tell me, what's the best route back to the dock?”
As they exited the restaurant, Dominic waved down a guard at a nearby kiosk. “A vehicle, immediately!”
The guard scrambled to a small four-wheeler and pulled up to the restaurant, stepping out and saluting the brothers. “Is there trouble, sirs? Shall I inform the guard captain?”
“I've already done so,” said Francis. “I just sent him a transmission. We're on high alert. Available units are to be sent to Hangar 4, where the Battlecruiser Methuselah is stationed. I've given him my orders.”
Faust shoved aside the guard and hopped into the driver's seat. “All right, where am I headed?”
The brothers staggered into the backseat. “Alberich, you'll want to go straight ahead and hang a right when you get to the next intersection. I'll direct you from there,” explained Dominic, still sipping from his wine glass.
Gripping the wheel, Faust took the vehicle out of park and hit the accelerator, taking off down the strip with a roar.
***
Faust and the Weatherby brothers sped into Hangar 4 just behind a cluster of large security vehicles, packed with armed men. The vehicles ahead all screeched to a halt, surrounding Methuselah in a half-circle. The guards poured from them, rifles at the ready. One of them, evidently the guard captain, ordered some to stay behind while a number were assigned to approach the ship.
The dock was empty of Methuselah's crew. The crewmen who'd been posted at the entrances had all returned to the ship in search of the intruder. Faust slammed on the breaks and hopped from the vehicle, running ahead of the approaching guards. Making a beeline for the ship, he rang Kanpei on his transmitter. “Which entrance?”
“It was 23-B, sir. Near the mess hall,” replied Kanpei. “We haven't found him yet. He's still in there somewhere.”
“All right. Follow me,” said Faust to the guard captain, taking his beam saber from its scabbard and waving him around to the other side of the ship. “We'll be heading in through this entrance here. Have men posted at the other entrances in the meantime. We don't want anyone else sneaking in.”
The guard captain scattered a number of his men to the various entryways before following Faust into the ship. The pair were followed by the Weatherby brothers, still red-nosed and panting, with small pistols in hand.
Faust slowed down, leading the pack cautiously. His beam saber, a somewhat rustic weapon compared to the modern rifles that the station's guards carried, glowed intensely. The thing hummed as the generator in it came to full power and the blade shimmered with a fiery light. The air around the blade seemed to roil, a faint aura of heat emanating about it. “Let's take it easy now.” He nodded towards the first turn in the hall. “He may be hiding right around this corner.”
Turning the corner, they found not the intruder, but something all the more gruesome. Faust groaned, kneeling down at once to investigate. It was the intruder's quarry, a young pilot by the name of Darren.
The guard captain and the brothers turned away, the latter growing visibly ill at the sight. “What in the world could have done that to him?” asked Dominic, pressing his hand to his mouth, his jowls quivering and pallid.
Darren's body, or what remained of it, lay in a crumpled, broken heap against the wall. His face was turned up to the ceiling, drawn up into a pained grimace, while the rest of his body, limbs wrenched apart most unnaturally like broken twigs, lay in a huddled, scarlet mass. The lad's abdomen had been thrust open by some hideous weapon, leaving his entrails sprawling pell-mell across the metal flooring, which was slick for some distance with his blood.
Faust laid hands on the man and closed his dead eyes, relaxing somewhat the final, miserable look on Darren's face. Clutching his blade and rising to his feet, he clenched his teeth. “Monstrous,” he said, the legs of his pants now dappled in fresh blood. “Let us continue.” With his transmitter, he made a quick call to the ship's bridge. “Mr. Kanpei, I want this ship on absolute lock-down. Is that understood? Every exit is to be sealed immediately. I will comb this ship room-by-room if I must. No one leaves or enters until I give the say-so.”
“Yes, sir!” replied Kanpei, initiating the lock-down order. The doors all around the ship could be heard to activate at once, quickly slamming shut.
“Come,” said Faust, waving the others further down the hall.
They began into the next chamber, a long, narrow hallway that branched off towards both a storage room and the mess hall. Faust ordered the others to stay behind in the hall while he peered into the storage room. Pushing open the door, he found it filled with boxes and food supplies. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary or out of place. He raised his saber into the air, illuminating the dim chamber further and taking a step inside. There was no trace of the intruder to be found.
Leaving the storage room, Faust led the group into the mess hall slowly. Saber at the ready, he paused in the doorway before stepping inside and canvassing his flanks. He was about to wave the group inside when, right then, something registered in his periphery. From underneath one of the tables at his right there sprang an attacker.
A Memory of Violence Page 6