by Pat Hauldren
Everything in place. Zander was always tidy. Besides she wasn't afraid, or mostly wasn’t. The Argo’s obligatory schematics butted up against Zander’s brilliant art of nebulas and galaxies. Zander had had a gift for painting, and seeing the stars. Other posters, those of women and men, were of rock bands, a type of music, and also something from the other-time. Emily recalled Zander’s tales of wide-open bulkheads, called skies. Of endless water that pounded against endless shores or rushed within ribbons called rivers. In Zander’s stories, no hydroponics nourished the impossibly tall growths, called trees. Stories of a spent world and broken hope, the home that the Gallant’s mutinous colonists desperately forced her mother to return them toward. Emily smoothed a control and a cubby opened. She held an EM-kit and a small torch.
She’d need to crawl the entire conduit to get to the command deck. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was cat slender and needed to find her father. Emily scanned Zander’s dark workstation and frowned. Before, all the com stations worked. That was how she knew where to meet Marian, at sickbay. Now, all the stations stood dark. Disabled? Those octopus nasties were fast learners. A tingle prickled down each temple. No, don’t think that.
Emily refused to imagine all the horrid traps that might lie in wait, ready to snatch up one last lost girl. No, they’d no idea she existed. She never looked around the corner, but her stomach twisted a fierce knot and Emily doubled over with pain. Her hand wrapped the toy soldier, her fingers smoothed its braids, traced a tidy uniform and bright brass buttons. Missing her cap. She’d need something called, a diversion, and her brows wrinkled.
Gambit. Why hadn’t she remembered before? Emily straightened. This was her father’s gift, chess. And a maneuver she knew well, gambit.
Must a pawn always be sacrificed for her king? Emily shook her head. There had to be a better way, some other kind of sacrifice. Emily held the driver. The device would make noise as it reversed the magnetic polarity of each fastener. A different sound from that of the droning emergency sirens. Soon, she stared at an opened air duct. Well, she wouldn’t get caught if she replaced the grate. Emily inside, careful to retighten two of the fasteners. She’d go to secondary engineering. There she’d come up with a better plan.
Emily caught the loosened grate before it could fall, and listened. Off, on, throughout the Argo klaxons blared. The invaders hadn’t figured out how to turn those off, yet. She peeked down into the corridor as orange emergency lights pulsed in an upside down world. Engineering all right. Emily studied each dark corner, every shaded wall. Nothing moved. Slowly, she eased halfway out, but in her peripheral vision something scurried past. Emily paused as the Argo’s lights pulsed alien tangerine colors. Her fingers gripped, her arms struggled.
“Give me…strength.” One boot heel wedged within an inner edge and she slid back up into the vent.
Quickly, Emily twisted around, glanced down the corridor, but then yanked back. Something was coming. She reached for the grate to put it back. Too late, too late. It would see that move. It would know, know she existed. Shaking, Emily scooted from the opening, her breaths coming in small gulps.
Scrape, scrape, scrape. Closer. Emily listened. Scrape, scrape, scrape. There. Right below the open vent. Then silence. The thing listened---for her. Her breathing stopped, but her heart beat loud, too loud. How could beastie not hear her fear? An eerie green light bloomed then glowed and Emily shoved a tight fist into her mouth to seal her screams. Wormy things tip-tapped the edge of the air duct.
Tentacles or fingers? Four glistening tendrils explored the edge of her hidey spot. One tip touched and then lifted the loose grate. The metal screen fell back with a clunk. Don’t jump. Don’t scream. Emily tasted blood. She bitten into her fist. Dumb, so dumb. Why had vids of homeworld pop like candied corn into her head? Crenulated waves of sand, all that was left of Earth’s continents and all her civilizations. Sick wavy folds of fleshy skin undulated along the alien’s tentacles as several digits twitched, pulsed in her direction.
No, no, don't move. Emily’s grip around the sturdy toy soldier tightened and she stilled. The weird fingers splayed open. Between its skinfolds, alien digits glowed. Maintain. Maintain. A long river of snot dribbled from her nose. Don’t sniff. Stay still. As if thinking, the creature’s fingers tip-tapped and then in a swirl of motion, withdrew and the green glow went out. Yet, she knew. It was there.
The Argo’s orange emergency lights flashed as a slender device curved up past the air duct’s opening. A flashlight, or something worse? Like a periscope, the device turned first towards the steel grate. The business end of the device turned blood-red as gold flecks of energy sparked, reflected off the shiny sides of the air duct. Suddenly, a piercing yowl cut her stalemate and Emily jerked, her head banging a metal side. A second set of horrid yowls and high-pitched screeches ripped past the dim and the device fell as something heavy thumped hard against one side of the corridor.
A fight. And something didn’t want to give up. Eyes closed, Emily listened as thick grunts faded amid more gut-rending screeches. She opened her eyes. Oh, she wasn’t asleep. She sat in the vent. Her nightmare real. A gentle sound, roused Emily from her shock. A voice, soft and tender, mewed from below and Emily inched forward.
“Queen of the Universe?” her voice trembled, as her tears dripped onto the fur of a rotund orange-white tabby cat. Queen of the Universe paced in circles under the conduit's opening.
“Gone,” Queen sat onto her haunches. The gen-cat licked blood off her fur as Emily eased her way to the floor and Queen rushed to curl into her lap.
“Queenie, thank you,” Emily stroked the gen-cat’s tight abdomen. “It’s almost time for your babies,” she said, wiping dry her face.
“No,” Queen purred. “The children agreed. They will wait.”
Emily smiled, Queen of the Universe was an excellent breeder, but not such a good thinker.
“Smelly.” Queen pressed two polydactyl paws against Emily's chest.
Emily grinned. “I peed myself.” She nuzzled into soft fur and then stood. “Queenie, I need to get to secondary engineering.”
“I help, yes.” But, Queenie tensed. The gen-cat hissed, twisted around and backed against a wall. Emily’s attention turned. Twenty feet away a long, slender shape unfolded from the dark and sat as emergency lighting flashed and accentuated a pair of wild gold-colored eyes.
“Zeus.”
The large tom, Queen’s mate, Zeus, kept his distance. Few crewmembers could work with the gen-cat. Zander was the last technician who’d come close. Now, the tom laid back both tufted ears tips and remained unapproachable.
“Thank you, too, Zeus.” Of course, the tom had to be the cat to thank, but Zeus refused acknowledgment and Emily’s hand dropped to the small soldier at her side. She glanced up, stared at the open vent. “Gravity,” she muttered. Oh gosh, she had an idea, but she needed Zeus to cooperate. “We need to backtrack, somehow, get to the loading dock.”
One tufted ear swiveled in her direction. “Why?” Zeus said.
“I know a way to get the aliens off the Argo.” She locked eyes with the tom as shivers coursed down her spine.
“I help, yes,” Queen of the Universe purred and Zeus hissed, laying back both ears.
“Then your venture is lost,” the tom said.
“Zeus!” But what could she do? Emily followed one pissed cat away from Level D.
Gen-cats possessed keener senses and were excellent serviles, crawling into tight and dangerous spots to effect ship repairs. They stopped at her old schoolroom and Zeus accessed an inner pane. Finally, the gen-cat hissed and used both paws to manually force aside both doors.
“The intruders have already accessed main and secondary engineering levels. The bridge, of course, being their initial target. Here, I can partially reroute a few scanners.” Zeus hurried toward a computer.
“How, how do you know to do all that?” Though she knew the classroom was a fully functional research laboratory, Zeus---as all servi
les---should possess zero clearances into the ark’s data systems.
“Emily clean smelly away, here.” Queen reminded her of her urine stained uniform and Emily left toward a cleanser.
She returned pulling into a set of clean blue coveralls. The sterile suits were meant for the older students, teens, who performed advanced bio-lessons. But, things had to do in a pinch. “Have you seen the aliens, Queenie?” For Queen, sentences had to be short and clear.
“Squishy people move slow,” Queen answered after finishing her licks to one paw.
“Slow? Hum, I need a bit more info than that.” Emily zip closed the suit. It was far too big and loose.
“The entities are not used to one G,” Zeus spoke, his spotted back faced her. The tom leaned forward, studying a view screen.
"How many of them are there?” Emily clenched two fists, watching as Zeus made his illegal calculations on her classroom computer. “You, you’ve got override codes,” she stammered. Fact. Fact two, Zeus was dead meat, if the Argo’s leading legal counselor ever found the tom out. “By Fourteenth Law, no enhanced lifeform shall possess any sensitive access codes.” Well, there went that bright idea. Emily gulped. No getting any help from Zeus.
The tom’s long muscular back stiffened. Only then did she notice the weapon tucked away within the gen-cat’s tool belt. Zeus was an inadvertent creation that the Argo’s life sciences staff never intended to breed. But teenagers will be teenagers. Now a sentient and opinionated servile, Zeus, had singularly condemned all the Argo’s gen-cats into forced cryo-sleep. Until the Argo’s legal branch decided what to do. Whether to maintain two divergent intelligent species on those scarce resources left behind after a ruinous mutiny, or to choose only one species?
“Lament the desultory ethos of these capricious Gods. Do I frighten you?” Two yellow eyes regarded her silence.
“My father,” Emily’s voice trailed. How could she tell Zeus what she already knew? “The high counselor, I mean, said….”
“They chose termination.” Zeus returned to his calculations. “As well, I possess access into the ship’s communications system. As well, I know the invaders have overrun most levels of the Argo. Regular com systems are down. Engineering is off limits. The bridge taken first. These aliens’ intentions appear not positive.” One long ear swiveled back around. “So, acting Captain Revel, do you have an extraction plan?”
Emily studied her shoe tips. “Turn off Argo’s gravity.” The tom chittered a cat laugh. “But they’ll float and then I’ll push them out the same air lock they came in through, Level D.” A good plan. She knew it.
“Ridiculous.” Zeus growled and turned his back. “You would only float out among the enemy,” the tom said and Emily fingered the shredder. “You’ve no idea of their numbers.” Zeus continued, “You didn’t know which of the ship’s systems they’d already accessed. You don’t know if they’re armed. And, you know nothing of the kick behind the .44 you wear.”
Quickly, her hand dropped from the weapon. “N- no, I don’t.” She fingered the small doll.
“Ignorance is a dangerous attribute, Captain Revel. Yet, I do have a proposal. An idea to take back the bridge.”
To save her father and the Argo’s crew? “Why would you do that?” Once Zander, Zeus’ only advocate, had left along with the Gallant’s crew, the gen-cat eluded all capture attempts while Queenie had remained free of any forced cryo-sleep due to her pregnancy. “Zeus, the moment the crew takes back command,” she began.
“I and Queen will be at the court’s mercy. But, my species fare best with a known enemy rather than to seek justice from an alien unknown.” Checkmate. Zeus and Queen of the Universe had no better choice than hope. “I can’t do this alone, Captain Revel. I need your help.”
“Acting captain,” Emily corrected. Acting, for sure.
From across the room came a soft mew and they both turned. Queen of the Universe struggled forward dragging the odd periscope that the alien had tried to see into the air duct.
“That alien must have dropped this,” Emily said, but Queen passed her outstretched hands. Instead, Queen chose to offer the jade-colored device to her mate, but the four-foot tall cat glowered. Zeus hissed and Emily stepped forward.
“Queenie, I’ll only hold it for him. I promise not to keep it.” Tribute was an odd, but seriously taken attribute that the gen-cats had created all on their own. Emily bowed, accepting the device on behalf of Zeus. “Queen, no more risk taking in your condition. All right?”
Ears back, Zeus yowled and pulled back an open paw filled with sharp claws. Quickly, Emily shut both eyes and shifted between both cats to block the tom’s strike.
“Gravity.”
Emily cracked open an eye. “What?” she said.
“You are correct, Captain Revel. Gravity is the answer. However, not to lessen the Argo’s grip. Quite the opposite.”
“They move slow.” Emily grinned. “Queen, you’re so very smart. We know how to save the Argo. And, we have this. Whatever this is.” She thrust the alien wand under her weapons belt.
“Date: Tttwennnty three fffforty-nine,” a jittery voice crackled to life and Emily jerked as a com-screen reactivated. That was her father’s voice, the message continued, “Captain’s log: Our worst nightmare is a reality. The alien presence which shadowed the Argo for weeks has attached to the Argo’s hull. The ark carries no weapons. I imagined we’d left all that horror behind, but now we’ve no mounted laser guns, force fields, or tractor beams. No last minute rescues, or faster than light speed escapes. The Argo has no fairy-tale ending. Our only defenses are a few hand held devices, a few museum pieces. If this brave crew and I cannot cleanse the Argo of these creatures then....”
The screen went blank.
“Father’s last entry,” Emily said, but Zeus wasn’t listening. He was programming.
“Life support systems will go offline and the Argo’s gravity field will increase, by three. By the time a last phrase speaks, we must be armed and in position at the bridge.”
Emily swallowed a piece of her heart. “Weapons,” she muttered, squeezing the doll and not the .44 at her side.
Zeus stood ready at the door. “I know where the council keeps an unauthorized cache of weaponry.” In a flash of orange, Queen of the Universe dashed from behind Emily’s legs and toward her mate. “Queen, no.” Emily scooped up the hefty mom cat. “It’s safer here, little mommy. Think of those babies.”
Zeus exhaled an evil hiss and left while Emily embraced a pair of furry shoulders. Queenie shook and mewed, softly, crying piteous tears into her coveralls.
“Five. Five little ones.” Queen squeaked then spread a wide paw. “The children have chosen their names: Ares, Hera, Persephone, Dionysus, and a tiny son....” Queen choked, her tortured blue eyes held hers. “Why does he hate me so?”
Emily hugged in Queen’s grief and smoothed a gentle hand against the cat’s plump tummy. Without a physician’s help, Queen of the Universe would never survive delivery of Zeus’ extra-large children.
“Think of your kittens, Queenie. Stay here, please. Tell them that everything will be all right.” Emily left to catch up to Zeus.
“Here.” Zeus had not gone far. The tom leaned with crossed forepaws against a wall as the Argo’s tireless emergency alert finally ended.
“What in heck?” Emily listened as an ancient song, one of Zander’s favorites, blasted a fast-paced guitar solo throughout the ship.
“Meant to confuse the enemy,” Zeus narrowed a gaze. “Do you approve, Captain Revel?”
“Stop calling me that.” She didn’t deserve the rank, but the gen-cat turned without a reply.
“We must be armed and in position before we become a pair of lead weights and we reach the end to Stairway to Heaven.”
Emily cradled a long-barreled laser rifle, something Ensign Donovan had never known about to teach. She repeated Zeus’ crash course instructions as the lift, which turned out not to be a trap, glided toward the bridge. Anoth
er guitar interlude rose in volume.
“Almost there, at the end, I mean?” Emily yelled to be heard as the music raced forward. “What if not all the aliens are on the bridge? What if they don’t have ears?”
“The important ones will be at the bridge. Captain, they have ears.” Zeus unlocked the safety catch of his weapon. “Ninety seconds until the ending.” the tom spoke.
The end, where some mental woman imagined paying some unpayable amount for her senseless purchase---of an endless stairway. The lift doors parted, they exited.
“Wait,” Emily laid a hand on Zeus’ furred arm and the tom tensed. “What if the aliens don’t have guns?”
“Small time for a philosophical debate, captain.”
Right, Zeus was correct. In less than sixty seconds, she’d make a choice. “I mean, I can’t make that mistake.” But, she couldn’t back down before anything even started either. “What we’re doing is old thinking.” Old thinking and hateful thoughts had gotten humans into trouble, burnt up home world.
“That would be lack of thinking, Captain Revel. We tread a thin line here. Do we rescue your father, or not?” Zeus glanced at the sealed doors to the bridge.
“Let me go in first.” Why did she say that? But, Zeus nodded and they switched places. She waited for a last word.
‘and she’s buying a stairway to …….heaven.’ The song ended.
The double doors folded back and Emily managed a few quick steps before both feet flattened against the Argo’s metal flooring. Zeus’ lighting reflexes, though, had positioned him diagonal from her. Within the dim, the odd things moved. Long rubbery limbs and bodies that glowed with bioluminescence. Their arms whirled, mad with panic as the creatures realized they were caught within a crossfire.
Emily panted, her lungs struggled for every breath. But the dark beings looked worse. One creature struggled to remain upright but then simply crumbled, squatting on the floor. A second entity flopped onto its side by life support and fought for air, its sides billowing in and out like a loose-skinned balloon.