Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  The large alien bellowed something unintelligible from across the bar that caused others to scatter.

  Denise pushed the waitress at the bar aside and leapt onto the counter, reaching for the announcement microphone. She gulped down a panicked breath. “Attention Bigmart shoppers! The store is now officially closed. You ain't gotta go home, but ya can't stay here!”

  Andy ran by as Denise leapt back down from the counter and sprinted for the entrance. A roar rumbled across the room from the pig-like rhino alien. The pair turned the first corner in the corridor and took off at a full sprint.

  “Make way,” Denise yelled as she spotted Willy ahead of them down the long corridor to the docking ring.

  “Willy!” Andy said gasping for air. “Big...Alien...probe.”

  Willy turned toward the commotion just as Andy and Denise sprinted past him.

  “Stop them!” The massive rhino pig alien shouted as he rounded the corner and barreled into the corridor. Willy braced himself, standing his ground he crouched like a center on the offensive line. The large alien charged headlong down the corridor. Willy exploded forward in a blur of motion. His massively large sausage fist found itself wrapped around the thickly chorded neck of the alien creature. Willy leaned back and to the right using the alien’s momentum. He vaulted the alien over his shoulder, choke slamming him to the deck. The alien's muscular body went immediately limp.

  Two other rhino pig aliens rounded the corner, pointing weapons of some sort at Willy. The unmistakable electrical discharge of a mass thrower resounded through the corridor as slug crashed into the bulkhead just above Willy's head.

  The charging capacitors of the alien weapons whined in the confined space.

  “Time to go!” Willy turned. High stepping his way over the unconscious hulk he continued down the corridor. “Go,” he shouted ahead to Andy and Denise as they rounded the next turn.

  Willy skidded to the right at the next corridor junction, just missing two large Sasquatch-like creatures, crashing headlong into Fergus. His momentum carried the two of them across the open space where they impacted the far wall, denting the cover plates.

  “See! I told you I didn't have to outrun a Bear,” Trae said as he charged through the intersection at a full run.

  “We might want to leave, like now,” Denise yelled back over her shoulder.

  “Dammit, Willy! You owe me a bottle of scotch,” Fergus groaned.

  “Just shut up and run, Ferg!” Willy pushed his massive bulk upright and continued behind Trae.

  Andy stood at the docking hatch to the ship, pistol in hand aiming down the corridor. He lobbed a pump shotgun into the air in Trae's direction as he approached. Trae caught the sawed-off shotgun in flight, turned and slid to a crouched halt before the ship’s airlock.

  “Make way!” Fergus barreled around the final turn, bouncing off of the far wall.

  Big Willy rounded the corner following close behind. The deck plating shook and rattled with each of Willy's heavy booted steps.

  “Go get her fired up,” Willy ordered Andy. “It's time to blow this joint.”

  Fergus snatched the pistol from Andy's hand just as he turned to run into the ship.

  “What the hell did you do Denise?” Willy panted, glaring in her direction as he slowed to a stop.

  “I didn't do anything!” She hid just inside the airlock.

  “Bullshit! You had to have done something,” Trae said.

  “Wait,” Willy started, “what did that one guy want that was at the table when I left?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know? I can't understand their pig snorting grunts,” Denise said.

  “She told him to fuck off,” Andy said through the airlock speaker. “Engines online, Willy.”

  “Goddammit Denise,” Willy yelled. “We’re supposed to be making allies, not enemies.”

  “So fucking sue me,” she grumbled. “I wasn't up for another round and he kinda looked like a disgusting, pimple-faced Quasimodo anyways. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do have some standards!”

  “Wait? What the hell are you talking about? Another round,” Willy asked.

  “Some big blue guy paid her a bar of gold or something earlier,” Andy said.

  Trae broke out into hysterical laughter. The barrel of his gun touched the floor as his knees gave way. He fitfully wiped tears from his eyes.

  “You're fucking, serious,” Fergus said. He straightened, pointing his pistol at Denise's head. “We go aboard our first alien space station and you start turning tricks? Who the hell does that? Seriously? Even I’m not that stupid.” His face contorted as he shrugged and shook his head in disbelief.

  A bulbous alien head popped around the corner of the corridor, then disappeared. Trae's laughter was instantly replaced by the cacophonous sound of a twelve-gauge double-ought round fired in the confined space. The emergence of buckshot coincided with the reemergence of the bulbous alien head around the corner. Purplish blood splattered across the junction and the body slumped to the deck. Trae racked the slide and loaded round. The second alien appeared, then stopped and blankly stared down at his companion as his own chest exploded in a gout of purplish ichor.

  “Don't shoot,” wailed a high-pitched voice from down the corridor.

  “Hey now,” Janey shouted, peeking around the corner of the intersection, opposite of the second alien.

  “Come on,” Fergus waved. “We gotta get!”

  Janey dashed around the corner, dragging a sobbing Amanda behind her followed by Casraownan. “What the hell is going on?” She shoved Amanda ahead and through the doorway. “Get on board and don't argue.” She turned back toward the alien bodies, knelt and checked their necks for a pulse. “Dead as far as I can tell.” She produced tissues from her lab coat and wiped up some of the purple splatter from each of the aliens, then dashed for the docking hatch.

  “Hurry up, everyone in,” Trae ordered as he crouch walked backward. His gun pointed down the corridor. Fergus mashed the intercom button. “We're on.”

  “Getting clearance now,” Willy replied over the comms. “The bastards don't want to let us loose till we pay the docking fees.”

  “Make way,” a female voice yelled from around the corner of the corridor intersection.

  “What in the hell is that,” Fergus asked Trae.

  “Someone please help! Stop this insane female,” a robotic voice shouted from the speaker mounted to a hovering cart that appeared in the corridor. A man-sized willow tree in full floral bloom was firmly planted in the cart, its branches clawed and scraped at the sides of the corridor as the tree and cart barreled headlong toward the airlock. The cart bounced and bucked over the alien bodies that littered the intersection.

  “I said make a hole! You big burly manly men could give me a damned hand with this thing.” The calm and collected demeanor of Jenny, the ship’s linguist now looked more like a wild-eyed maniac. Her neat and tidy schoolmarm bun had exploded into a frazzle of curly locks that floated about, framing her angelic, but strained face.

  Trae and Fergus backed against the side of the corridor. They both sucked in their stomachs to allow the cart to freely pass. Three of the possum like aliens appeared at the far end of the corridor. They sprinted for the hatchway. “Cease and desist! Release the It’Vit ambassador!”

  “Time to close it up, Ferg!” Trae turned and quickly sprinted through the hatchway.

  “On it,” Fergus shouted. He smacked the airlock close button then pressed the comms button on the control panel. “All aboard Willy. Get us out of here.”

  “Please help me,” the willow tree begged through the cart’s speaker. “This creature has disabled my carriage and assaulted my person!” Its whip-like branches shook with furious frustration.

  “Sorry there Woody, but you're on your own for right now,” Fergus said. He tucked the pistol into the back of his waistband and turned to leave. “We'll figure out what to do with you later.

  “We've got bigger issues to d
eal with at the moment,” Trae added, following behind Fergus. “Stay out of the way and we won’t turn you into firewood.”

  “Oh my god, I forgot about that,” Jenny forcefully slapped herself in the side of the head. “Do not tell me what it is saying,” she pointed a threatening but shaky finger at Trae and then to Fergus. “I want to learn how it communicates on my own.” She let out a laughing cackle. “Oh my...to learn the body language of a nonverbal species and to be able to carry on a full conversation without ever uttering a word.” She excitedly sighed.

  “You can't understand it?” Trae asked with an incredulous look.

  “Oh god no,” she shook her fuzzy mane with a look of utter disgust. “As soon as Mr. Andy said that he could remove the translator implant, I gladly let him remove it.

  “Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant,” Trae shouted at the ceiling. He laughed so hard that he began to cry. “Well you're just a great big ball of sane awesomeness, aren't you?”

  “Hold onto something,” Willy bellowed over the intercoms. “Missiles inbound! We're gonna try to break loose from the station.”

  Bulkheads creaked and popped as the vibration of the engines increased throughout the hull.

  “Go! Out of the docking bay! Now,” Trae ordered.

  A dull tone rumbled through the framework of the ship. Something large impacted the outer hull. The momentum of the ship as she lurched forward countered the weak field of the anti-gravity generators. Trae, Fergus, Jenny and the alien willow plant creature soared across the compartment. They surged aft, impacting with a rear bulkhead. The Veronica suddenly jinked sideways with a violent explosion. They flew across the room once more as the nose of the ship dove and rolled downward, sliding starboard with a sickening lurch.

  cHAPTER 57

  Gamma Draconis System

  Anderson (Eltanin 2)

  Dig site Alpha

  September 19th, 2176 / Early Evening (Dragon time)

  L ong shadows of early evening stretched across the parched desert of Eltanin 2. Pounding pulses of thrust propelled Doug and his hoverbike forward at breakneck speed. Dust billowed behind him in the form of a twenty-foot tall, swirling rooster tail. He dropped the throttle and the pulsing audibly slowed, lowering the tone as he approached the site. Doug lurched forward, bracing himself against the handlebars as the speed brakes deployed, causing instantaneous drag to slow the bike's forward moment to a crawl. He directed the bike alongside the ancient, but well-preserved station wagon.

  “Hey there Mr. Rackham,” Benjamin Swanson greeted with a wave. “I didn't expect to see you out this way.” He sat on the open tailgate of his ancient, 1990's era Buick Roadmaster. It's white paint and plastic wood grain panels looked new and unblemished in the Draconian sun.

  “How in the hell did you get that land barge this far out in all of this loose sand?” Doug lowered the landing gear and switched off the bike's pulse drive.

  “Well, I had a few upgrades done to her to accommodate most possible terrains that I might find myself working in. She has a hover mode, deployable floats for river work, multiple options on the wheel treads. The upgrades have easily paid for themselves over the years.”

  “I'm sure of that, seeing as you're way out here.” Doug removed his helmet and gloves then dismounted the bike. Walls of the same concrete-like material protruded above drifts of sand in neat rows on either side of the area. “Hu...”

  “I know,” Ben replied. “Kinda scary how similar it looks to something back on Earth, isn't it?”

  “Yeah,” Doug gasped. “This is a suburban neighborhood, isn't it?” He turned back to Ben, who cleaned the dust from his glasses.

  “Yes sir, that it is,” Ben proudly answered.

  “Well, I'll be damned.” He slowly turned, taking in the extent of the neighborhood from this vantage point.

  “Well, you didn't come all this way just to chit chat and take in the sights, Captain.” Ben carefully slid his dark-rimmed glasses back onto his face and stood, tucking a handkerchief into his back pocket. “What can I do for you?”

  “Honestly?” He grinned at the archaeologist’s straightforwardness. “I just needed to get out for a ride to clear my head and your little operation just happened to be a nice, convenient excuse.”

  “I can understand that completely,” he said, nodding.

  “I did have one request for you,” Doug said.

  “Absolutely Captain. Shoot.”

  “The Cats have shown interest in everything that we have done so far,” Doug said. “I’d like to include a few of them on your dig team if we can get them out on the surface. They have been underground their entire lives, so it will take time or some specialized gear to get them out here any time soon. That being said, are you up for the task otherwise?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Captain,” Ben said. “I’d be happy to take a few of them under my wing to help them reconnect with their past.”

  “Good. I’ll get Willy working on some goggles or something when he gets back,” Doug said. “So, what directed your efforts all the way out here? We've gotta be a good twenty klicks from the hole,” Doug said. He tucked away his helmet and gloves into a saddlebag.

  “Well, Wes was able to do an aerial survey for us with the satellite network. We initially surveyed the area around the hole, but nothing really stood up and screamed at us. Once we expanded the search with the full battery orbital scans, we noticed that this area north of the base had an odd depression compared to the rest of the surrounding landscape. Come on, I'll show you,” he said motioning for Doug to follow him. “It'll just be easier to show you what we've already found.”

  “How well are you and your team adapting to the environment,” Doug asked, following closely behind.

  “Things couldn't be better,” Ben said excitedly. “Camille is an amazing champ on these outings. I couldn't do the work I do without her fine-tuning the operation from behind the scenes,” Benjamin admitted. “And then there’s my mother, Glenda. She keeps both of us in line and keeps track of the essentials so that Camille and I can focus on the data collection.”

  “Wait? Your mother is a member of your research team?”

  “Absolutely,” he smiled. “She's an essential part of the equation as far as I'm concerned.” He nudged his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.

  “Oh, hey there Captain Rackham,” Camille said as she exited the field tent and waved. “What brings you way out here?”

  “Just getting some fresh air and a change of scenery,” Doug politely replied.

  “We're having baked fish with fresh key lime pie for lunch if you'd like to join us,” Camille offered.

  Doug blinked in disbelief and looked around at the desolate, dry surroundings then turned back to Ben, and back to Camille. “Baked fish and fresh key lime pie?” He shifted uncomfortably and scratched at nearly a day’s worth of stubble on his chin. “I know that it's only been a few days, but I have to ask. You have been drinking enough water and staying out of the direct sunlight as much as possible, haven't you?”

  “Water,” Camille said questioningly. “What's that Captain?”

  Ben burst out in a full gut chuckle. “I'm so sorry, Camille,” he pleaded. “That innocent look on your face had me and I couldn't hold it in.”

  “I just couldn't help myself, Captain,” Camille said apologetically. “Yes, we have been staying hydrated and out of the direct sunlight as much as possible, and you did hear me correctly a moment ago. Glenda is making baked fish and fresh key lime pie. Or at least as fresh as vacuum-sealed and freeze-dried will allow her to use.”

  “Oookay then,” Doug sighed. “That makes so much more sense now.” He laughed and smiled back at Camille. “You had me worried for a moment there.”

  “Come on, Captain. Let me show you what we've found so far.” Benjamin continued down the sand filled street for twenty meters and then turned left down a light slope, between what looked to be the remains of two residential homes. “What we
found on the initial survey really struck me as odd. The other times that I'd seen a depression like this on orbital scans it had been an ancient trash pit or a collapsed section of an underground tunnel. Now, you have all of these structures that look like residential housing in this area,” he said, pointing back up the slope toward the ruins. “And down here, you have this large, multilevel structure,” he pointed off to the left to the ruins of a larger building. Two other researchers waived back at the pair as they continued their tour.

  Doug waved back. “How goes it, guys?”

  “We think this large structure may have been a community center or possibly even the equivalent of a church.” Ben's shoulders slumped as he let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I have to admit that I've based my speculations of this area on similar Earth-based community layouts. But those are human designs on Earth. Really, until we learn more about the previous incarnation of Chinchassan society, we can only speculate.”

  “From what I see here, I think you are on the right track,” Doug said. “My first guess as I rode in was that it was a neighborhood. It would make sense that a structure like that in the middle of all of this would be a church or other community type building. You're doing a great job that I can see so far.” He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. “Anything that you find will help us to better understand what happened here and tell the Chinchasans about their past. So, what else did you find?”

  “Oh, right,” Benjamin said excitedly. He smiled and pushed up his glasses again. “This is the exciting part.” He hurriedly made his way over toward a tarp, erected against the side of the large structure. “What we have here isn't just any old neighborhood. Something happened. Maybe it's only coincidence, but before we even set up camp I started poking around inside of the large structure and found this.” He removed the lid on a wooden box to reveal a bright white, cat-like skull. He picked up the ancient collection of bones and held it out for Doug to see more closely.

  “That is odd,” Doug said slowly, taken aback. “When we first arrived, I sent Trae and Fergus to investigate the hanger doors. At the base of the section that they were clearing sand from, they found dozens of skeletons.”