by Cara Bristol
Don’t think about that.
She rocked and hugged Sparky’s fuzzy, still body. Upon arriving, he’d acted like a typical dog, investigating the room, sniffing around. She was relieved he’d acted like his normal self, but Dante didn’t need the distractions. So she’d powered him down.
With each passing minute, as Dante’s impatience rose, the more frigid his expression became.
“Captain?” The medical officer’s voice wafted through the commlink. “I have preliminary test results.”
“Proceed.”
“I place the earliest death, Althea Withers’s, at two weeks ago. Two others died a week later, the forth was killed three days ago.”
All before the roll call. Verification they couldn’t have been counted!
Dante’s expression turned stonier. “Go on.”
“A preliminary scan has revealed traces of a foreign protein in the wounds of all four victims.”
“What kind of protein?” he asked.
Miranda picked up Sparky and hugged him, drawing comfort from his solid, fuzzy body. She sniffed and swallowed the lump in her throat. Poor Althea. She had liked her. They’d talked, even laughed, had begun the process of healing together. Althea had acted a little strange the last time she’d seen her—
Her head shot up. How could Althea have been dead for two weeks if Miranda had seen her one week ago when she’d come by the cabin?
“I’m running the protein through the analyzer for confirmation, but I believe it is nonhuman,” the medical officer said.
Dante sucked in an audible breath. “You’re saying, alien?”
“I believe so. The victims’ livers are missing. And there’s something else disturbing. The nature of the wounds suggests they were not inflicted with a bladed object, but by claws.”
Claw marks. Missing livers. Alien protein. The blood drained from Miranda’s face as she flashed to the massacre. “Tyranian,” she whispered.
“What?” Dante’s gaze snapped to her face.
“Tyranians eat the livers of their victims.”
“Son of a bitch!” He leaped to his feet. With the commlink to the medical officer still live, he opened a channel to security. “Threat level red! There’s a Tyranian on board.”
“Holy shit!” the security officer gasped through the mic.
“Find the alien!” Dante ordered. “I want every crewmember armed, and I want security doubled in the colonists’ area.”
Seconds later a siren blasted through the ship. “Threat level red. Threat level red.”
Not again. Please, not again. Miranda’s throat clogged with fear. How could this be happening? How could a Tyranian have gotten onto the ship? A bio scan didn’t just check for contagions, it verified species.
Lieutenant Commander Brack burst in. “Captain, what’s going on?”
“There’s a Tyranian aboard Crimson Hawk. It must have stowed away when we picked up the New Utopians,” Dante said.
Events of the massacre flooded Miranda in a wave. The huge alien ship hovering in the sky. An armada of pods floating to the planet’s surface. The attack. The screams. The bodies. So many bodies. The alien confronting her in the greenhouse. Its nauseating musky odor.
The remembered stench was so real, she could smell traces now.
“Impossible, sir.” Brack shook her head. “I led the rescue team on the ground. I personally ran the bio scan, screening every single passenger before he or she boarded the ship.”
“You also reported all were accounted for after a second scan and a manual head count. At least four of those you had counted were dead at the time. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t, sir. But I promise I’ll find out.”
“Where is Mr. Ochoa?” Dante asked.
“I was unable to locate him.”
Because he was dead. Miranda was certain.
“There could be more than one Tyranian,” Dante said.
The nightmare repeated itself. Her heart raced, and the urge to flee rose up inside. But to where? The horrific truth was that this room right now was the single safest place on the ship. Upon exiting, there would be no haven. Everybody would pose a threat. She wouldn’t be able to trust that Dante was Dante.
“How could something like this happen?” He paced. “How could a Tyranian have slipped onboard?”
“Perhaps the scanners are malfunctioning,” Brack suggested.
“That would explain it,” he said.
Miranda shook her head as terror constricted her throat, making it hard to speak. The captain and the lieutenant commander had no idea what they were up against. Nobody had until the invasion, and they’d seen the Tyranians in action. “T-they shift,” she croaked.
Dante whipped around. “What did you say?”
“They shift.” She slid her fingers under Sparky’s collar, fumbling for his power switch. Her hands shook so much, she couldn’t find it. Sparky had saved her on Verde Omega. With aliens on board, she wanted him active. “The aliens can transform themselves and assume the shape of other species,” she said.
“Absurd and impossible.” Brack crossed her arms.
After the invasion had begun, the colonists quickly and tragically had learned they couldn’t trust each other—because their neighbor, their friend, their spouse, their child might not be human. Unable to unite in force, they couldn’t mount a defense. Dividing and conquering, the Tyranians systematically defeated the colonists who’d survived the initial onslaught.
Miranda had fled and hidden in the greenhouse with a fellow colonist she’d known very well—only to watch in horror as he shifted into a Tyranian.
The commander shook her head vehemently. “There is no data to support your claim.”
“I’ve seen it!” Miranda finally found Sparky’s power switch and depressed it.
With a little jerk, the dog animated.
A snarl erupted from his throat, and he launched at Brack, clamping onto her forearm as she threw up her hands to protect her throat.
“No! Sparky stop!” Miranda sprang up as Dante charged from across the room.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Brack bashed the K9-500 against the wall, but the bot hung on, growling ferociously.
A spreading green stain darkened the lieutenant commander’s sleeve. Miranda’s gaze flew upwards to meet rheumy red eyes.
Dante thumped his commlink. “Security! Code 14! Consult! Stat!”
It all happened so fast.
Lucille Brack’s forehead and cheeks undulated as if something crawled beneath her skin. Then her flesh peeled away to reveal a scaly, fanged Tyranian.
It hissed and slammed the dog against the wall so hard it dented the mental and dislodged the bot. Legs crumpled, Sparky fell to the floor where he continued to snap even though he’d been crippled.
The alien charged. Dante shoved Miranda out of the way. She landed next to a disabled, but snarling Sparky. A red streak slashed across Dante’s chest as he took the blow intended for her. The alien whirled, swiping with its talons, growling and gnashing its teeth.
“Run, Miranda! Get out!” Dante dodged, but a long barb raked across his shoulder. He landed a powerful kick in the alien’s abdomen, throwing it backwards into the door.
Exit blocked. She wasn’t going to get out that way.
The alien sprang at Dante. Two more swipes shredded his shirt and the flesh underneath. He aimed a punch at the creature’s throat, but it jerked out of the way, and the blow grazed off its skin. It roared and sank its razor teeth into Dante’s left shoulder while clawing at him.
He beat at the alien’s scull. It reared its head back, but before it could bite again, he drove his fist into its eye. The orb exploded, spraying green mucous. The Tyranian shrieked.
Sparky snarled, trying to rise on legs folded up like accordions.
Enraged, the alien struck out with a powerful blow that caught Dante in the chest. He flew across the room and crashed into the wa
ll. He slumped onto the floor.
“Dante! Dante! Get up, please!” she begged.
But he wasn’t moving. The Tyranian advanced on Miranda. Green fluid seeped from the busted eye socket. The other eye glowed red. Disgusting breath and body odor fouled the air.
She screamed. So did the alien as the dog clamped his jaws around its ankle. Miranda scrambled away, but the alien came after her, dragging the bot.
Miranda fell against the wall. Tears streamed down her face.
The Tyranian raised his clawed hand preparing to deliver a killing blow.
A uniformed forearm hooked around the Tyranian’s throat. The good eye bulged, and then its neck popped as Dante snapped it. The alien went limp, and Dante tossed the body to the floor.
Blood covered his torso, and his uniform hung in tatters, revealing angry, gaping wounds, but he gathered Miranda’s shuddering form against his bleeding chest.
“It’s okay, now. It’s okay.” He rubbed her back.
She buried her face against his wet, sticky shirt and cried. “I th-thought you were d-d-dead.”
He stroked her hair. “I’m a cyborg. I’m too stubborn to die.”
“You’re hurt bad,” she said.
“Not so bad,” he denied.
Keeping his good arm around her, he reached for the commlink with his injured one. She felt him wince. He tapped it. “Security! Where the hell—”
“Here, captain!” A petty officer bounded into the room with a security team.
Medical appeared next, swarming over her and Dante, who issued orders and shook off the doctor’s attentions.
His furry muzzle stained green with alien blood, Sparky continued to gnaw on the alien’s ankle. They had to deactivate him to get him to let go.
“Take her to sick bay. Make sure she’s okay.” Dante handed Miranda off to the medical officer. “Put two bodyguards on her until we’re certain the ship is safe.” He looked at Sparky. “The K9-500 was damaged in the attack. Get an AI repair tech on it, stat.”
“What about you?” Miranda asked. “You’re injured!”
“I don’t have time for treatment. I have a ship to secure. My nanos will heal me.”
“You should let me take a look at you,” the doctor said.
“Not now. And that’s an order.”
They started to lead her away. She hated to go, didn’t want to leave him, but she had to. He had to see to the safety of the crew, passengers, and the ship, and she would only get in the way.
“Miranda?”
She met his gaze, dark and serious.
“We’ll talk later. I promise,” he said.
Chapter Seven
One week later.
“Who is it?” Miranda called.
“It’s me,” Dante said outside her quarters, eager to hold her, to present his proposition. Would she agree? It would be a big step.
“Woof,” added the repaired K9-500, held in his arms.
The door opened.
“Sparky! I missed you so much!” She reached for her dog, who wagged his tail enthusiastically as if he was glad to see her.
He handed him to her.
“Woof. Woof,” the bot barked as she kissed him.
“Captain.” She nodded at him.
She’d called him Dante before. Kissed him heatedly. Cried in his arms. Now she called him captain and gave him a cool nod. This wasn’t the reception he’d hoped for.
A week had passed since the attack. Tomorrow afternoon the Crimson Hawk would dock at SSO15, and all the colonists would disembark. Dante had been tied up in meetings with the admiral and had personally overseen the sweep for aliens and the identification of every crewmember and New Utopian. Though Miranda had been ever-present on his mind, he hadn’t had a spare moment to see her, and what he needed to say required more than a moment.
“I’m sorry. I intended to come sooner, but I had duties…”
“I understand.” She hugged Sparky tight, her affection for the robot as obvious as her lack of affection for him. His gut tightened, and his heart panged. He’d expected too much.
“I thought you’d want an update,” he said.
She stepped aside and beckoned him to enter. “How have you been?” she asked stiffly.
“Fine. I have been very busy.”
“You had a lot to contend with,” she agreed.
“How are you?” he asked quietly. Having received her medical report, he knew she had recovered from the ordeal physically, but he needed to hear from her own lips she was all right.
“Fine. Not so busy.”
They sounded like two strangers making small talk. Had she decided he was too old, too cold, too machine-like, too warrior-like to love? That she obviously adored the canine robot had given him hope that maybe she could come to care for him, too. He scrutinized her face for signs she was glad to see him but he saw only impersonal politeness.
“You look healed,” she commented.
“A benefit of being a cyborg.” One of the few. Other times being part machine was a curse. Only at times? When had it not been?
She set Sparky on the floor and pointed to his pad. “Sit,” she ordered. He trotted over and docked himself. “What can I do for you, captain?”
Captain again. Their kisses in the lab had led him to believe the attraction was mutual, but then came the gruesome discovery and the attack by the Tyranian. Dante had failed, and she knew it. As a result, people had died, and she’d been attacked and almost been killed. It was ludicrous to think she still could have feelings for him.
“I owe you an update on what we discovered,” he said. It was the least of what he owed her, and the information wouldn’t improve her opinion of him.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to a bunk and then sat opposite him.
“We found the bodies of twenty New Utopians, and four crewmembers including Warren Ochoa. Lieutenant Commander Brack’s body was not found. She was probably killed on Verde Omega so I suspect her remains are there, along with those of three colonists listed on the passenger manifest who are most definitely not on the ship.” The admiral had dispatched an armed vessel to the planet to recover the bodies so the families would have closure.
“Oh my god!” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“And, we captured and destroyed three more Tyranians.”
“There were four of them?” she gasped. “Are you—are you sure you got them all?”
“Yes. The identity and species classification of every individual aboard the ship has been confirmed.”
“How did they get on board? We were scanned!”
“I believe when the Crimson Hawk arrived on Verde Omega and the aliens retreated, a few of their comrades got left behind. The Tyranians killed Lieutenant Commander Brack and three colonists and adopted their forms. With one of them posing as my second-in-command, they were able to walk on. If an initial bio scan occurred at all, the results were falsified.”
Once aboard, the aliens had gone on a killing spree, assuming identities as needed. “We learned how they shift,” he said. “Humans produce a liver enzyme which gives the aliens the ability to take their form. Eating the liver enables them to shift. That’s why they’d disemboweled the victims.”
Miranda covered her mouth with her hand. “Althea had been disemboweled. You’re saying… it was a Tyranian, and not Althea, who came to my cabin that time Sparky went on attack?”
He nodded, hiding his dismay at how close of a call she’d had. “Yes, but we got them all.” He wanted to hold her, reassure her nothing bad would ever happen to her again.
“How can you be sure? We thought we were safe before! Can the bio scanners detect a shifted Tyranian? How certain are you of the accuracy?”
“The scanners are about 90 percent, depending on how much of the enzyme the alien ingested. It’s the enzyme that turns out a false positive.”
She waved her arms. “Ninety percent isn’t good enough
!”
“No, it’s not, but—” he pointed at Sparky “—he’s 100 percent.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s one reason why we kept him so long. Your K9-500 bot is dead-on accurate in determining human from alien. He found a Tyranian our scanners had missed. So we ran him by every single person on board. I don’t know who programmed him—”
“My father,” Miranda said. “He was a geneticist as well as an AI engineer. Sparky was actually a prototype he’d wanted to manufacture. I was like the beta tester. But then my father died.”
“We would like to study Sparky’s coding, and adopt it for our bio scanners.”
“If it will help, of course! But we’re leaving tomorrow. We’re arriving at the space station, right?”
Dante nodded. “The other New Utopians will be disembarking. I would like you to remain on board. I can offer you a civilian position as an archivist.”
“So you can study Sparky?”
“That’s not the only reason.” He glanced at his boots before lifting his gaze to hers. He took a breath. “I had hoped when we kissed that you shared my feelings, and you’d stay—to spend time with me.”
“You mean you still care? I waited and waited for you. When you didn’t come, I thought you’d started to regret…”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to see you so much, but duty intervened. And when we discovered the bio scanners weren’t 100 percent accurate, we had to rerun the identification process with Sparky—and thank goodness we did—then—”
“Yes! I’ll stay!” Miranda flung herself into his arms.
He kissed her with all the longing he’d had to suppress in the past week. When he released her, his chest heaved, and she was breathless as well. He couldn’t stop grinning. He brushed the hair from her face and stared into her eyes.
“I didn’t think permanent non-military personnel were allowed on warships,” she said.
“We have civilian contractors and a few spouses of military personnel aboard. In addition, exceptions are sometimes made for others if there’s a significant need.” He grinned, trying to ease his tension. “I have a significant need for you. And then there’s Sparky.”
She smiled. “Will he have to enlist in the space force? Will he have a rank?”