Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  It wasn’t until he’d returned to sitting on his bunk that Connor noticed the shower had stopped. Charisma’s arm reached out from behind the curtain and pulled in the towel. Moments later the arm reappeared, and one by one her borrowed clothing disappeared inside.

  When the curtain slid open, Charisma stood barefoot and damp. She stared at him, a small smile played across her lips. She strode slowly to him and sat at his side. “That was a very sweet thing to share your peanut butter with him,” she said with a quiet husk to her voice.

  “It… uh… it’s ours,” Connor said. In spite of his one stammer, he surprised himself at how confident his voice sounded.

  Charisma dipped a finger in the jar and put it in her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the flavor. Her sigh of satisfaction sent shockwaves through his body. He watched her eyes slowly open and her finger slide out of her mouth even slower.

  Connor’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

  He wasn’t breathing, not even thinking. Connor was just lost in the moment that was Charisma. She had completely overwhelmed him without a word. The man was just a spectator now, incapable of anything else.

  But Charisma wasn’t so confined. She leaned in and kissed him, long and passionately. It was the moment he had waited for his entire life and didn’t realize it until just now. Her lips were soft and supple, tasting sweetly of peanut butter and just a little of Charisma herself.

  She pressed her weight down on top of him, and his arms wrapped around her waist. They fell onto his bunk, pressed together as one. Charisma’s hand reached out blindly for the panel that controlled the lights. After slapping the wall a couple times, it found the button by sheer luck. Two writhing bodies were blanketed by flickering shadows, lit only by the flashing of the wall’s view screen.

  Chapter 5:

  Connor eased himself out of his cot and shook his head. It was hard to get last night out of his mind, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. A smile crossed the man’s face as he looked at the cot where Charisma had lain just a few hours before. If the cot hadn’t been so small, he was sure she would have stayed.

  A resounding snore ripped his attention away from that pleasant thought. Wild Bill slept soundly on his cot, one arm and leg hanging onto the floor. He hadn’t heard the Texan come in, but that was hardly surprising. Connor hadn’t slept this well in a very long time. The digital clock on the wall read 23:48 in warm blue light. Connor didn’t have to work till 03:00, so he lay back down to relish his memories from just hours before.

  He wore a smile so large he thought his face would split. Connor hadn’t felt this relaxed in years. It felt like his entire life had culminated in just one night. The smile got even bigger.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d almost drifted back to sleep when the ship’s claxon sounded. Connor’s eyes snapped open and he looked around in confusion.

  “What the fuck is that? Is there some kind of problem?”

  “Alarms generally mean trouble, Connor,” Wild Bill said. He was already on his feet and half dressed. “I got to get to the armory.”

  Connor leapt out of bed, not bothering to get dressed. He turned on the display and accessed the ship’s external cameras. When he accessed the left rear cameras the reason for the alarm became apparent. A long thin ship, vaguely reminiscent of a needle, was approaching at tremendous speed.

  “Is it Ka’Rathi?”

  “Yup,” Wild Bill said looking at the monitor. “A scout. Light arms and armor, but easily capable of taking out a simple freighter.” He watched the monitor as he strapped his six-shooter onto his hip. “Looks like they mean to board us.”

  “Shit!” Connor squeaked. “That’s bad!”

  “No,” Wild Bill said, “that’s good. If they wanted to destroy us, we wouldn’t have a chance. Repelling a boarding party on the other hand… well I doubt they know there’s a shit-load of CPS on board. Now, we have a chance. Stay here.” The Texan made for the door but stopped in the hallway and looked back at Connor. “I’m serious, Connor. Stay here.”

  “I can’t. I have to get to Charisma.”

  “She’ll be at the infirmary. Guards will already be stationed there. All you’re going to do is get in the way.” Wild Bill stared Connor hard in the eye. “I want you to promise you’ll stay here.”

  “I will. I promise,” Connor said, then glanced at the man’s sidearm. “But I don’t suppose you have a spare. Just in case.”

  Wild Bill just pointed at his footlocker and walked out of the room, the door hissing closed behind him. Connor scrambled to the foot locker and flipped it open. As usual the footlocker was immaculately sorted and labeled. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. But there was no weapon in sight.

  “Must be buried,” Connor muttered to himself.

  Had it been his own footlocker Connor would have torn through the chest like a hurricane. But for some reason, even in this crisis, he couldn’t bring himself to do that to Wild Bill’s locker.

  Ever so carefully Connor removed a perfectly folded and pressed gray sweatshirt. Beneath was its exact copy in blue. Connor removed that as well revealing a pistol with two spare clips against the metal bottom.

  The pistol was far heavier than he’d expected. It was more than eight inches in overall length and had a clip that stuck far out from the bottom of the grip. Connor had thought the clip wasn’t properly inserted, but after fiddling with it, he realized it was just longer than the handle.

  I wonder if it’s loaded. Connor thought. He tested it by pulling the trigger, but nothing happened. An experimental look down the barrel told him nothing. It was too dark to see anything. Connor examined the pistol and found a small lever at the top of the handle’s right side. Thinking this might release something he pressed it.

  The clip fell out of the gun to land on his foot, causing Connor to yelp and hop back. On the plus side, though, the gun was substantially lighter.

  He picked up the clip and saw bullets inside. Obviously, that wasn’t the problem but now, at least, he knew the damned thing was loaded. Connor gently pushed the clip back in the handle and started to release it. The clip almost fell out again, but Connor caught it before it fell completely out. He held the butt of the gun with one hand and rammed the clip in with the other as hard as he could. This time the clip stayed in.

  Oh, I hope that’s how you’re supposed to do it. Connor thought.

  He tested the trigger again, but it still wouldn’t fire. After another examination of the pistol he found another lever near the first. Connor thumbed it into a forward position. A squeeze of the trigger sent a spray of bullets into Wild Bills cot. The clink of brass casings raining down on the metal floor rang out like chimes in wind.

  “Shit,” Connor muttered. “Don’t know how I’m going to explain that.”

  Connor had become so engrossed his quest to solve the riddle of the pistol that he had all but forgotten about the current danger. Ka’Rathi weapons fire proved to be an excellent reminder. The entire ship shook as Ka’Rathi plasma energy impacted on its sides. The searing energy made a sound like the roaring of a tidal wave as it poured over the exterior of the ship.

  Three more plasma impacts made the ship shudder, and Connor thought he heard his exterior wall sizzle. Then, suddenly, there was silence. It lasted for so long that Connor had started to wonder if they’d somehow fought the Ka’Rathi off. A smile of victory was starting to spread over his face when the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom.

  “We’re being boarded. All civilians to their designated quarters. Colonial and Fleet forces to the armory.”

  Holding the pistol in a death grip, he walked to the door and stopped with his hand held over its control panel. A promise had been made. Connor would not leave this room. And he meant to keep that promise. But… if he just opened the door he would still be in the room. Technically.

  Connor held his breath as he pressed the door release on the panel. He half expected a Ka’Rathi to
be on the other side of the door. He half expected to be attacked as soon as he was exposed.

  The door hissed open to an empty hallway. Connor’s relief exploded from him in a gasp. He looked right, seeing the door of the medical bay on the opposite wall at the far end of the hall. It was hard to tell from his angle if the bay door was closed or not.

  Connor whispered down the hall for Charisma. No answer. He was debating running down the hall to look in the medical bay when a disconcerting sound drifted from the other end of the hall. A heavy clicking echoed from the depths of the metal hallway and was slowly getting louder. It sounded almost like a company of metal booted soldiers marching out of step.

  Connor yanked his head back into the room and closed the door. Fear tore through his body like a charging bull, and his finger shook uncontrollably as pressed the button on the door panel that activated the door-cam.

  The view screen on his back wall displayed an empty hallway. That infernal clattering Connor heard just moments before was already loud enough to come clearly through the door-cam’s tiny speaker. Whatever was making that sound was closing fast. Although the view screen still showed nothing, it sounded like the metal clacking was right outside.

  Then he saw it. A tall insect-like creature. It resembled an ant with a heavy abdomen and slim thorax. But the resemblance stopped there. Its six legs were capped with four flexible talons, one of which was opposable to operate like a thumb. Unlike any insect Connor had ever seen, this creature seemed to have an extra-long and flexible thorax that could bend and twist. It used four of those six legs for walking. The creature’s thorax bent up at the center allowing the foremost two legs to function as arms. Its head was so bulbous one would expect it to be ungainly, especially with foot long mandibles. But the creature moved with uncanny grace. In its right claws was a spherical, glassy device that had two cylindrical protrusions.

  Connor only had a moment to take it all in, before the creature disappeared from the monitor a heartbeat later. Then he saw another, and another, and yet another. A final creature stopped and looked at his door for a second. Connor held his breath in terror, wondering if he was about to die. He raised his weapon and pointed it at the door. Then it, too, continued along. All five of the massive beasts, tall enough for both of their antennae to be bent completely back by the ceiling, passed his door unknowing of his presence.

  Once again, the view screen displayed an empty hallway. Connor could hear the clacking of their claws on the metallic deck slowly recede down the hall. But suddenly, the clacking stopped.

  Connor started to worry that perhaps the Ka’Rathi creatures somehow realized he was hiding in the room and were sneaking back to ambush him. The man gripped the pistol so tightly in both hands that they ached. The sound of gunfire almost made his finger jerk the trigger instinctively. It was accompanied by the distinctive sounds of an energy discharge.

  Screams filtered through his door, mostly human, but one alien. Connor’s mind raced. There was only one reason for them to stop. Only one door that someone could see through. The creatures must have seen the people inside the medical bay. Connor’s mouth went dry as and panic shot through his brain.

  Charisma will be in there!

  Without another thought, Connor pressed the door release. It slid open unbearably slowly, allowing a sour stench to assault his body. The stink was so powerful it burned the back of his nose and throat. He moved the pistol into his left hand and stepped sideways into the hall while the door was still opening.

  Two Ka’Rathi had already been downed, one twitching, the other inert. The last three used those glassy spheres to fire pulses of energy into the medical bay, trying to keep as much of their bulk behind the walls as possible. Connor fired the weapon before he completely took in the scene. His weapon almost seemed to explode as it sent a deluge of titanium coated bullets into the creatures attacking the infirmary. The three giant insects turned their heads to the unexpected cacophony as the hail of death streamed their way.

  Connors weapon blew its load in less than two seconds. He hadn’t been prepared for the kick and how fast the bullets would come out. Shock and panic had dulled his mind from remembering the weapon’s fire rate when he accidentally shot Wild Bill’s cot.

  Most of the rounds just sprayed wildly down the hallway or into its ceiling. Several hit the closest of the creatures, and it screamed as searing metal tore into its soft abdomen. It gave some sort of chittering, chiming scream as it collapsed onto the cold, hard deck.

  He ducked back into his room as the remaining two turned and fired their weapons at him. Whitish-blue energy pulses slammed into the doorway where he had been just a moment before. Metal seared and the smell of ozone permeated the already reeking air.

  Connor searched desperately to find the spare clip but couldn’t remember where he put it. His eyes darted around the room so quickly that he couldn’t take in the images fast enough. Finally, after looking at Wild Bill’s bunk twice, he spotted the spare clips laying clearly in its center.

  Connor thumbed the magazine release as he rolled sideways to reach for a full clip. He grabbed one and jammed it in, but it fell right out. Energy bursts continued to slice into his doorway as he tried to make the clip fit again and again, but each time the clip wouldn’t latch. Somewhere a voice in the back of his head told him to try turning the clip around. He did so and jammed the clip in as hard as he could. This time it stayed put and he racked its slide.

  A Ka’Rathi heaved its great bulk into view just as Connor raised his eyes and gun. Both fired wild hoping for a lucky shot. The insectoid’s energy pulse passed just over the man’s head. Lucky for Connor, both his eyes and weapon were leveled at the bottom of the creature’s thorax. He squeezed the trigger and, as the gun kicked up, it sent a steady stream of lethal projectiles into the beast’s massive thorax and head. It collapsed in his doorway, transparent ichor with just a hint of green spilling free from its multitude of mortal wounds. An almost sweet smell emanated from the thick ichor.

  For just a moment Connor stared at the ruined creature, his mind needing the time to realize that he had indeed survived. Then he was climbing atop the dead bug to see about Charisma. When he crawled into the hall, the last of the creatures was firing its energy weapon into the medical bay again.

  Connor raised his pistol just as the creature came aware of his presence. He pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. Only then did notice that the slide was locked back. Connor felt sick as he realized that he had forgotten to put in a new clip. He looked up to see the creature had turned toward him and was about to fire.

  “I’m sorry Charisma,” he whispered as he closed his eyes. Death was staring at him, with its flashing compound eyes and he couldn’t bear to look back.

  There was a succession of loud popping sounds, followed by a heavy slump, then silence. Connor was starting to wonder why the creature was taking so long when he heard Dawud’s voice.

  “Don’t just stay there, get in here!”

  Connor’s eyes fluttered open, not wanting to see an energy bolt melt a gaping hole in his body. But, instead of witnessing his own death, he saw the creature’s. It lay on the cold metal floor, head twisting to and fro as its mandibles twitched. Dawud stood in the doorway of the infirmary with a smoking assault rifle in one hand while he beckoned Connor with the other. By the time Connor had made his way the infirmary’s doorway, the beast had gone still.

  Inside was devastation. The ship’s doctor and an unknown soldier of the CPF were dead, gaping holes seared into their flesh. Charisma tended to the medical assistant and a Fleet crewmember, both of whom had serious burns on their bodies. In the doorway, Dawud handed his assault rifle to Connor. He had a nasty looking burn on the side of his neck.

  “Hold the door,” Dawud ordered. “I have to tend the injured. Get more clips off the dead and wounded.”

  Connor took the weapon dumbly and just nodded. He looked to Charisma, but before he could ask anything, she just nodded weakly at hi
m. It took him less than a minute to find four spare clips that matched the one in his rifle. Connor left his pistol on the counter next to the doorway as he fiddled with the new weapon.

  “Magazine release is on the left side over the magazine,” Dawud called out when he realized Connor was unfamiliar with the weapon. “Cocking mechanism is above and behind the right of the trigger assembly.”

  “Thanks,” Connor said as he found the two mechanisms. “Is the safety device on?”

  “Nope. Squeeze and spray. Just make sure it’s aimed at a bug, ok?”

  Connor nodded at the man and looked down both directions of the hall. With the exception of dead bugs, it was empty. But the familiar sound of clacking rolled down the corridor once again. They were coming.

  Tears streamed down Connor’s face. His hands shook so hard that he wasn’t sure if he could even hold the rifle much less aim it. Helpless terror shrieked in his mind like a banshee, screaming that he would die.

  “I’m not sure I can do this.” Connors voice was almost a whisper. Between tears, his eyes were pleading with the survivors.

  “You…” Dawud started to say, but Charisma interrupted.

  “We have to stay with the wounded. You’re the only one who can keep me alive. I need you, Connor.”

  Connor said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. He just raised his weapon and looked back down the hall to wait for the giant alien monsters. The banshee still wailed in his mind, but his hands stopped shaking.

  It was hard to tell just how long he’d waited. Time became so very fluid. But they came. They came with their foul, sour stench as a vanguard. From the far side of the hallway, the same as before, a tidal wave of the creatures rushed toward him.

  Connor’s rifle spit a steady stream of bullets down the hall, shredding alien chitin like paper. He’d expected a massive upward kick like he had experienced with the pistol. Surprisingly, the weapon kicked back into his shoulder, rather than up, keeping the hail of death almost exactly where he wanted it. Ka’Rathi chittered their death knell as their foul greenish blood spilled into the hallway.