Seclurm: Devolution

by Noah Gallagher

  “Wait here in the Bridge hoping it doesn’t break in and kill us for months?” questioned Randy skeptically.

  Rosalyn wiped her eyes and spoke firmly. “Look, let’s at least talk about killing it. If a plan doesn’t seem like it will work, we can discard it and think of something else. But we need to talk. Okay?”

  Randy nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk.”

  Rosalyn didn’t feel much like a leader now—more of a motivator. They talked for nearly an hour, heading down rabbit holes and realizing certain attack plans and ideas just wouldn’t work because of reason x or reason y. Deep down Rosalyn knew, and believed everybody else also knew, that the main thing stopping them was fear. A large part of them just didn’t want to face the fact that there was a killer beast in their prized ship, and unless they killed it first, it would kill them.

  Every route they took, it seemed, they were cornered.

  With everyone more than a little frustrated, Rosalyn reluctantly called a break on trying to come up with aggressive ideas and instead put everyone to work fixing things. With it obviously far too unsafe to go down and work on the coolant pipe, they worked instead to try and restore what functionality they could to the computer systems, considering it did seem unlikely that the ship could be repaired enough to fly again and their best bet might be to see what survival help they might accrue from restoring computer use.

  Almost all their time was devoted to fixing the computer system once it became clear that restoring some functionality within twenty-four hours was doable. Being confined to just a few rooms in the Novara was incredibly taxing on the crew. Rosalyn felt it too. They felt imprisoned, without basic comforts of life—no hot showers, no washing clothes or dishes, no regular workday, no dining room table to sit at, no traveling anywhere or doing anything but fixing the computer system and watching the movements of the alien every so often.

  But thankfully that day came to an end with no sightings of the alien. According to Terri, who had spent a lot of time watching the radar while she worked on the computer systems, it seemed to spend lots of time hanging around the bottom floor doing who-knows-what.

  At around 2 AM with the final watch, Randy saw the blipping dot come frighteningly close to the dining area, as if it were testing the door. He stood up with limbs trembling and held the flamethrower at the ready—even flicked on the lighter on the nozzle—but apparently the alien changed its mind and turned back.

  His heart rate had soared as he had watched the dot moving towards him. He slumped back down and wept quietly from the stress.

  We can’t keep doing this, he thought miserably. Not for six months. Not for six days.

  Another night had passed, only night didn’t feel much different from the days. Powerful storms raged on the planetoid’s surface no matter what happened inside the ship, it seemed.

  When morning came—or at least, when they assumed it was morning—three of the four crewmates ate another cold breakfast as another windstorm picked up outside.

  Waking up was coming from a dream to a nightmare. Terri remained asleep still, looking troubled. The others went to the bathroom to wash themselves off a little bit with what cold water was available. Their clothes were growing dirty and itchy and wrinkled, and they jumped at every noise the Novara made now. They would look over their shoulders and speak softly most of the time. The deaths of their friends haunted them greatly still.

  Sam sat at a small table in the dark and silent dining room, steam from a cup of coffee rising onto his face. He stared into the deep blackness, contemplating nothingness. The makeshift spear was nearby in case of danger.

  Randy walked in, coffee cup of his own in his hand. He sat down next to Sam and exhaled. He had a weathered look from taking the last watch just before morning.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said with a dull cadence to his voice. “Maybe…maybe the best thing to do would be to get out of here.”

  Sam blinked. “Get out…outside? You want to go outside?”

  Randy’s eyes shifted and he exhaled in an almost uncertain fashion. “Take all the food, try to starve it out. Or at least lead it out of the ship where it can’t ambush us. There’s no way we’re safe here for much longer. It will find a weak spot in our little fort and break through. We can count on that.”

  Sam scratched his head and thought about Randy’s suggestion. He knew that they did have some supplies for surviving outside the ship—namely the space tent, which would provide a spot for them to remove their suits safely and perform necessary life functions like sleeping comfortably, eating, and drinking. Sam had never used it, but he remembered having been trained on the matter.

  He opened his mouth to speak, imagining them leaving the ship. “Where would we stay? Have you looked outside?”

  Randy cocked his head. “The cavern, obviously.” Sam opened his mouth again, but Randy raised his hand and cut him off. “I don’t mean going deep in the ruins. I’m not stupid. I’m just saying we could shelter from storms in the tunnel near the opening.”

  Sam sat silently for a minute before responding. “It’s not the worst idea. I mean, none of our options are good, so relatively speaking it’s a decently good idea.”

  Randy smirked and looked at him. “I think it’s the only option we have. I don’t want to be near that thing again.”

  He nodded. “Do you want to pitch that idea to Terri and Rosalyn?”

  “I’d feel better about it with someone else on my side. So, if you’re with me…”

  “It’s definitely worth discussing.”

  Randy nodded, and a frown returned to his face.

  ♦♦♦

  Rosalyn carried the flamethrower with her.

  Yesterday they had all considered the option of going out to try and create a second flamethrower or other weapon, but none of them had worked up the nerve to do it. The flamethrower hadn’t prevented one of them from being murdered last time in spite of all their best efforts. They found themselves uncertain whether a flamethrower could really kill the alien after all, and another excursion to find and build anything just seemed doomed from the start.

  But what other options did they have?

  That was what Rosalyn intended to discuss once everyone was gathered and—hopefully—had pulled themselves together a little bit more. There was much yet to be discussed, but there was little point discussing it if fear was clouding judgment.

  She sat down on her mattress at the bow of the ship near sleeping Terri and stared off into nothing, clutching her coat to her body, thinking many unpleasant thoughts.

  The state of the mission was in total shambles. Three of their own were dead, one of whom they had seen killed in the most violent manner.

  Three lives, she thought. Three lives are left, aside from me.

  But this wasn’t a numbers game. If they survived with four left, she couldn’t consider a four out of seven a “passing grade”. With any lives already lost, it was a failure.

  But those three other lives… She couldn’t allow another one to die. Beyond the obvious reasons why, it was also the only meaningful positive thing she could influence now. She could not concede defeat.

  Rosalyn remembered how her mother had accused her of going to FAER just to be with John, but when he left her and the Foundation for NASA, she stayed for her own reasons. To prove to herself that this route she’d chosen was really the one she wanted. To her other family members, whose life philosophy was to follow wherever their passions took them, the fact that she’d stayed in a job they viewed as extreme and borderline inhuman was crazy, especially when John left.

  That was really the last she’d spoken to her mother or her sisters. It seemed they were never going to be happy with her until she left the Foundation. But Rosalyn had stayed.

  The fact that all of that drama, which had previously seemed so totally resolved in her mind, was coming back to her now irritated her.

  No, it wasn’t resolved at all.

  What would they think of her no
w, once they saw the headlines that would shortly be popping up about the fate of her voyage? Would they use this as evidence that she had stayed for the wrong reasons?

  Were they right? If all that had come from this supposedly groundbreaking venture was loss of lives and of billions of dollars, what was the point of it?

  She shut her eyes and felt her face tighten at the disturbing thoughts.

  Terri screamed.

  Rosalyn jumped and turned to where Terri lay. The woman sat up in her bed in a cold sweat, heart on her chest.

  “Terri! Terri, are you okay?” Rosalyn asked, heartbeat rising as she jumped up, clutched the flamethrower tightly, and went to one knee beside Terri’s mattress.

  Terri slowed her breaths and turned to look at her. “I saw it again,” she sputtered slowly.

  Rosalyn looked at her, unsure of what to say. The windstorm just outside was picking up in intensity.

  “I can’t dream about anything else,” she said, tears in her eyes. She rubbed them away with her palms.

  “I-it’s gonna be okay.”

  “Oh, God… We have to do something.”

  “I know,” Rosalyn said gently after a silence. She felt a teardrop stabbing at the edge of one of her eyeballs.

  Terri rose and stumbled over to the bathroom to take care of herself, looking miserable. Rosalyn stayed near, watchful, while the men came in to ask what happened. Rosalyn explained it was only a nightmare.

  A few hours later, Randy was starting to feel awake and alert to some degree, and he still felt like his new plan was the right way to go.

  “I’ll check the radar,” he said to the others, and went over to his computer on the Bridge.

  Sam held the spear and was practicing thrusting it forward repeatedly, jabbing it at the air and working up a sweat. Terri lay on her chair with eyes closed, and Rosalyn was in the bathroom.

  Sitting down and pulling up the radar system, Randy found the alien to be still on the lower level, but having moved towards the bow of the ship, near the mainframe control room.

  “This could be our chance,” Randy said hopefully, turning back to Sam.

  Terri raised up her head and asked, “Chance for what?”

  She looked almost sickly, like she had barely slept. They assumed that that was the case.

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” said Randy. “Let’s wait until Rosalyn’s here.”

  Shortly after, Rosalyn emerged from the bathroom, hair looking wispy and greasy, and sat down at her chair to join the others. “Any developments?” she asked.

  Rosalyn, like all of them, looked tired, but the men noticed some pain from a weight upon her shoulders that the others didn’t bear.

  “It’s at the mainframe,” Randy informed them.

  Rosalyn sighed thoughtfully, standing amid the seats and terminals. Terri just shut her eyes for a long moment.

  “I…I know it’s tough to keep talking about this…” he continued. “God knows yesterday I didn’t. But I’m not feeling like we have a lot of…time…left.”

  Rosalyn looked at him. “You have some idea of how to kill it?”

  He spared a glance at Sam before answering, “No. Actually, I’ve been thinking a better option might be if we…didn’t. We have supplies for surviving on the planet’s surface. I’m considering—and I think I would strongly campaign for—us leaving the ship until the situation…resolves itself.”

  Randy gripped his hands together, looking at the two of them with pleading expression. Terri’s eyes opened and she lifted up her head a bit, but didn’t reply.

  Rosalyn sat up straight and eyed him, not betraying any particular emotions.

  “What do you think happens on this ship when we leave it behind?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “First and foremost, there’s no one in it to get ambushed and killed. Secondly, we take all the food with us and either starve it out or kill it with the flamethrower and the spear if it comes after us out in the open where it can’t sneak up on us like it did to Al.”

  “The flamethrower probably won’t work on the planet’s atmosphere, Randy,” corrected Terri.

  “Fine, whatever. Honestly, that’s not the point. The point is running away from it to where it can’t find us.”

  Rosalyn looked at Sam, who said affirmingly, “I think it might be a smart option.”

  “What happens,” Rosalyn explained, ignoring all their responses, “is the alien destroys the rest of our ship—our home for now as well as our only way back to Earth—while we run and hide, which means we’re stuck on a barren, stormy rock waiting upwards of eight months to be rescued, desperately trying not to starve or freeze to death.”

  He couldn’t deny that was a possibility. He smacked his palms on his knees and said, “Okay, then we lead it outside. Bait it into the open and circle back around into the ship.”

  The open air outside the glass of the Bridge was still windy and scattered with dust and ice. The pervasive noise of it scraping against the ship’s hull mingled with the sound of the engines running, the last vestige of life the Novara possessed.

  “It’s not stupid, Randy. It’ll follow us. Why do you think it’s been staying here so long?”

  A wild grin flashed across his face, but it was quickly tempered. “Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

  Rosalyn stopped and then sighed, shaking her head. “Please don’t suggest what I think you’re about to suggest.”

  “Why not?” he argued, spreading out his arms. “Leave the ship to melt down and explode with the alien inside? Come on!”

  She rubbed her forehead. “That is so ridiculous I don’t really want to dignify it with a response. But for one thing, considering it was smart enough to bust the coolant pipes, it’s probably smart enough to know when the ship is going to blow.

  “I want you all to understand that we still need this ship. Do you see the storms going on out there? The only place where we can stay would be in the ruins. I don’t know about you all, but I don’t think that place is much safer than in here.”

  Randy sighed heavily, challenging her. “I’m sorry, but I disagree. The smartest thing we can do is wait to be rescued.”

  His anxiety only made her more uncomfortable. “I’m just not sure about that,” she said.

  His stare pierced her as he said, “Rosalyn, this is our lives at stake! Which matters more—FAER’s ship, or us?”

  “We will die if we lose this ship! It’s not completely destroyed. We aren’t equipped to survive here without it. It’s like being trapped in the Antarctic with only a few warm coats!” she fired back. “And besides, do you think the people coming to save us will be any better equipped to kill this thing than we are? They don’t even know there’s an alien at all, and we can’t tell them unless we make some serious repairs to the ship. If we don’t kill it first, it will kill them the moment they arrive. A fine surprise for our rescuers.”

  Randy shifted and grumbled. There was palpable vitriol in the air.

  Terri suddenly spoke to Rosalyn, her voice tired. “The only plan you’ve entertained is killing it. You keep talking about going and killing that thing…squashing it like it’s just a bug, a pest intruding on our precious home. Why don’t you think any of us have gone and done it yet? Because not one of us here wants to do that. That’s why Randy is looking at other options. We want to survive, Rosalyn. We don’t care about FAER’s lost profits.”

  Rosalyn thought for a long moment, standing awkwardly alone.

  Would she be the one to go and hunt that creature down if none of them would? And was she really more concerned about the ship and FAER’s investment on the planet than their own survival?

  “I want each of us to survive,” she answered, “both the threat from the alien and the threat of being stranded here. I don’t want to risk that thing destroying any more of the ship, either. Things can still get worse for us in here—much worse. I can’t imagine it’s just been sleeping all of yesterday. It’s destroyed the coolant pipe
and the system mainframe. How do we know it isn’t after the oxygenating systems next?”

  Silence.

  She continued, “An idea that was thrown out yesterday was opening up the locked doors of the dining room and leading it into the Bridge for an ambush.”

  Sam shook his head and began to repeat the reasons also brought up yesterday for why it wouldn’t work. “It moves too quickly for that. If we had more than just one weapon I’d feel better about it, but even if we do manage to kill it, it can easily pick off whoever isn’t armed before that happens. And I don’t know how useful the spear is gonna be, so just to be safe I’m going to say that three of us are effectively unarmed.”

  “Then let’s not have three of us.”

  Confused eyes examined her.

  “Your idea,” she said to Randy and the others, “isn’t bad. Leaving the ship will make us safer than in here, so long as you get out of the bad weather and don’t go far into the ruins. But we need someone to seize that opportunity to go on the offensive. While three of us are beyond its reach, someone else with the flamethrower needs to confront it and kill it.”

  Another silence passed. Everyone was stunned, but tellingly, there were no objections.

  “Who’s going to be the one to do that?” asked Randy finally.

  Rosalyn stepped forward, trying to remain composed. Still she felt her eyes grow slightly wet as she put words together. “I’m the captain. I can do it.”

  There was a collective display of disbelief. “You don’t want to do that alone,” Sam said.

  “If that’s the way it has to get done, then I’ll make sure it’s done. For all of our survival.”

  Randy asked, “And what if you can’t kill it?”

  Slowly she answered, “Then I guess we didn’t stand much of a chance anyway. We have no better weapon than this flamethrower. If it doesn’t work, nothing will. Maybe the best thing to do, in that case, would be to try and run from it. Just take off across the planet’s surface, whenever the storms aren’t as bad, and get as far away as you can so there’s no chance of it finding you. Take all the food and you could survive until help arrives, and with any luck they’ll find you when they reach this place. I don’t want to…to be morbid, but…with only three people instead of four, the food supply would also last a lot longer.”