Game, Set, Deathmatch

by Edwin H Rydberg

  Gravity chose that moment to lend a hand and she began sinking through the blob toward the floor several dozen meters below. Without a handhold, the question wasn’t how to stop herself, but only how to minimize the pain of landing?

  Moments later she had slipped free and was falling.

  Pointing the rocket launcher toward the ground and hoping it was loaded, she fired before quickly readying her shield gun. As the rocket impact, she triggered the energy shield. It absorbed the blast, throwing her sideways away from the impact. DaemonS was bent in half as she slammed into a support post, before being spun around and whipped into the wall. The last thing she heard was the rocket launcher hitting the ground.

  * * *

  DaemonS awoke to the vision of Bodybag’s large butt, a pain in her abdomen where a shoulder pressed hard against her, and a very bad taste in her mouth. The sound of birds and rustling grass, and the trampling of several pairs of combat boots filled the air.

  “What ha..,” she started, before coughing out more of the gelatin. She tried again. “What happened?”

  “Finally, da sleeping beauty awakes.” Bodybag said, removing DaemonS from her broad shoulder and setting her on unsteady feet. “Careful ‘oman.”

  “Nice to have you back, Daem,” Defcon’s smile mirrored that of the others.

  “Pincer! What happened?” The small woman was favoring her right leg and her right arm was strapped to her side. Blood stained the torn sleeve of her jacket.

  “Nothing that a good nutrient bath won’t fix up.”

  “You left us with a nasty group of new friends, Daem,” Vorpal supplied. “We were lucky to come through in the shape we did.”

  DaemonS noticed for the first time that none of her teammates were unscathed. Fortunately, none of them seemed as bad off as Pincer.

  “Sorry,” she said. It didn’t feel enough of an explanation, but there wasn’t much else to say. “I don’t remember much.”

  “You were ‘alf dead, sinkin’ into da floor when we found ye.”

  “What Bodybag means,” added Vorpal, “is that we found you unconscious, and it looked like the room was trying to digest you.”

  Vague images flashed before her: a faint orange glow lighting a suspended gelatinous mass, vacant stares of suspended bodies, bouncing off the rocket blast.

  “We found this with you,” Defcon held up a rocket launcher, “it was mighty useful finishing off our ‘friends’”. The slime-encrusted weapon was the same as she was used to, yet different. It almost seemed to be changing where the slime set. Another image came, more an impression really, this time the dark sensation of being immersed, fighting for life and the weapon. A flash of light, the touch of sentience — alien but unmistakable — filling the world, it was everywhere, surrounding her, penetrating her.

  “Daem?”

  DaemonS returned to awareness, the images gone. Sitting on her knees, she clutched her head feeling violated. Her entire body shook.

  “What’s wrong, Daem?” The world still seemed unreal, disembodied voices and hands tried to comfort her.

  “I... I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”

  They were right but what could she tell them? That she felt mind-raped by an alien blob? “I don’t know. We should get going,” she said, managing to climb to her feet.

  “Daem.”

  “We can’t do anything out here anyway, we have to get back. And Pincer needs medical attention.”

  The four Cowgirlz stared at her for a moment before Bodybag took charge. “Right. You ‘eard her. Let’s move. Pincer and DaemonS in da middle.”

  “I’m alright,” her argument was noted and ignored.

  “Pincer and DaemonS in da middle,” Bodybag repeated. “One o’ you lot in da back,” she pointed to Vorpal and Defcon, “and one with me in da front. We go hard an’ we go fast, changing trail-breakers every ‘alf hour. Der’s still about a hunert miles ta go so it won’t be no picnic.” The squat second in command gave an appraising looked at her troops before yelling, “Cowgirlz, move out!”

  With that, Bodybag led the team into the jungle and toward home.

  * * *

  Figment staggered through the dark underlayer of the city. He still had his translocator gun, but his last target had been destroyed somewhere in the vast caverns of the strange base. That meant he was going it on foot.

  It had taken him over an hour of running around the base to finally discover the exit at which time the Nekroid finally decided to take notice of him. He fragged the first wave, but fled quickly when it was obvious he was about to be overrun. Despite the battle that had been raging outside, they seemed reluctant to leave the base and he’d managed to escape.

  Now, around him, primitive sounds oozed from the shadows. There was no telling what lived at the base of the huge buildings that reached far above him. A glance up revealed nothing but a grey canopy faintly lit by what small amount of light succeeded in piercing the atmospheric web of structures and traffic.

  He picked a direction and began walking. Initial fears quickly gave way to the realization that he was, in fact, in the inner city. The depth of the pit slowly diminished and the ground began to look more like the city, until he started to recognize his surroundings. Once Figment was sure, he took another look up and confirmed his suspicions. He was inner city, but most landmarks he was familiar with were hidden beneath the ground level overpasses.

  Now that he was free, and immersed in the noise and motion of humanity, his recent experiences began to feel more and more unreal, the product of a psychotropic hallucination. Was it possible he’d been drugged? Before he contacted anyone official, it was crucial he determine the truth.

  There was only one place he trusted to get the help and analysis he needed, but he was almost certain they no longer trusted him.

  * * *

  In the end it took a little less than one day to reach the outskirts of the city. The base had been hidden behind a camofield. Once they breached the field it was clear they were only about twenty miles from the city.

  The march was uneventful and quick, with the three trail-breakers slashing away vegetation that had somehow grown large even on the vast, toxic outskirts of civilization. Pincer held up well, and her cloned body even appeared to be healing itself. DaemonS wasn’t as convinced about her own body, however.

  Her back seemed much more rigid than usual, and whenever she reached behind to touch it, she had the sensation that the skin was thickening, hardening until, by the time they reached the edge of civilization, it felt like a bony sheath. Or something else. It was hard, but flexible and moved easily with her, despite being a single piece. Afraid of what the others might think, she kept it hidden beneath her uniform and didn’t say anything.

  The city was busy and distracting, and it was simple to avoid talking about their experience, or her changes. But as DaemonS noticed the subdued expressions of her teammates, she realized perhaps they’d all be changed. The knowledge that something not entirely peaceful, and well beyond their experience, was growing on the edge of the city had altered their perspective. Suddenly the bustle of their daily life seemed an unreal veneer hiding its fragility. Almost as if the creatures from the base would suddenly tear a hole in the fabric of reality and burst through to attack.

  She shook her head to clear it. First thing: return to base. Second thing: contact authorities. Maybe the Cowgirlz’ fears were unfounded and this was just some forgotten corporate research project gone out of control.

  And maybe she was the empress of the galaxy.

  Once they crossed the outer, industrial, zone, they managed to hail a pair of cabs. Looking as they did — clad in bloodstained armor, carrying several pieces of heavy weaponry — they thought it best to avoid mass transport for fear of causing a panic. When they finally stepped back into their match home zone, it felt different.

  “Was it always this small?” Vorpal asked to agreein
g nods. The five of them stood at the entrance. Inside, they could see it had been cleaned up and the broken tanks replaced, as if none of the recent events had happened. But that wasn’t what was on their minds.

  Defcon voiced the sentiment first. “I don’t know if I can play anymore,” she said.

  “I know,” Pincer said. “It no longer feels like a game.”

  “It never was,” a voice said from the shadows. “But now the stakes are higher than ever before.” They turned to see a familiar form step from behind a clone tank.

  PART 3

  Knee Deep in Nekroid

  16

  “You bastard! How dare you show your face around here? How could you possibly have the gall to ever come near us again?” DaemonS yelled.

  “Listen to me,” Figment pleaded.

  “No! I’m not... we’re not listening to you ever again. You lost any rights to talk to us when you sold us out.”

  “Just listen, damn it. This is important.”

  “Well that’s too bad, because I have no interest in what’s important to you. You don’t know what we’ve been through over the last three days. You didn’t float down a toxic river, you didn’t get attacked by creatures in an abandoned laboratory, you didn’t have to forage through a jungle to get back to the city.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I was set up too.”

  “You think we believe that? You think we’ll fall all over you with forgiveness for a few simple words? ‘Oh, it wasn’t my fault’,” she said, mocking him. “‘Please believe me. So I can screw you over again.’ Well, you’re not getting a second chance.”

  “I understand you’re upset. You have a right to be, but....”

  “Damn right we have a right to be. If I had a flak cannon here you wouldn’t still be yammering.”

  “Listen, we don’t have time for this.”

  “That’s right we don’t. So you can just take your lying ass out that door before we kick it out.”

  “Do you think I would have come here if I’d set you up?”

  “In fact, you must think we’re pretty stupid.”

  “I had nowhere else to go....”

  “Oh? No one else would believe you? No one else would fall for your stories?”

  “Would you shut up and listen!” He yelled.

  Figment’s sudden outburst stunned her into silence.

  “I’m not here to argue with you,” he continued. “We have much larger problems.”

  “You mean, like a squad of strange monsters in an abandoned jungle research center?” Vorpal said.

  “I mean, like hordes of strange monsters beneath the city,” Figment answered, before turning to her in surprise. “You met a squad... can you describe them?”

  “Meaner’n a junkyard dog an’ harder ta kill’n a bloodlusted Bruuz,” Bodybag supplied.

  “Uh, thanks. I was thinking more along the lines of a physical description.”

  “Der blood is thick an’ black an’....”

  “What our energetic teammate means,” interrupted Vorpal,” is that they were large and reptilian with rough skin, grey or pale brown, it was hard to tell in the strange lighting of the base. Oh, and they had these thick horns coming from their head and shoulders.”

  Figment rubbed his chin and stared at the floor for a few moments before speaking. “Well, so much for that idea. Apart from their pallor I don’t see much similarity. Mine were definitely human. Or at least it seemed they had once been human. No horns, but they had a bony hood extending from their shoulders surrounding the back half of their heads.”

  Vorpal shook her head. “You’re right, those don’t seem the same at all. Fortunately for us, we only encountered five in the belly of the beast.”

  “Belly is right,” Defcon said, “I kept thinking the room was going to digest me.” The others chuckled.

  “I know what you mean,” Pincer added, “it was like walking through a giant intestine.”

  “Who was walking? I was running most of the time,” Defcon said as the Cowgirlz laughed.

  DaemonS noticed Figment was quiet again, contemplating his shoes, when he suddenly looked up.

  “A giant intestine, you said? Corridors lit by a pale light, walls covered in a layer of skin that seemed to grow right from the duracrete?”

  “That pretty much describes it,” DaemonS said. There was no point staying mad at him now, he wouldn’t even notice. And besides, if this train of thought was going where it seemed, they all had bigger worries.

  “Then it looks like there’s something in common after all.” He hesitated a moment before addressing the five Cowgirlz. “Would you show me where the research center was?”

  Wide-eyed, Pincer asked, “You want us to go back there?”

  “I have to get samples for analysis. Besides,” Figment added, cheerfully, “it’s deserted now, right?”

  * * *

  Once they patched up and re-equipped, they set out again for the once abandoned jungle lab. The trip was much faster by falcon, for which DaemonS was eternally thankful. Figment might be a back-stabbing, double-crossing jerk, but he was a well-connected jerk.

  Inside, the elevator lurched to a sudden stop at the familiar platform. It was difficult, no impossible, to believe Figment had talked them into returning here. Still, he was right; it was their best chance to learn anything new.

  “Something’s different, Daem,” Vorpal said.

  “Yeah, da skin be even more everywhere now,” observed Bodybag.

  They were right. Even in the entrance the floor was completely covered with the organic substance and it was now halfway up the wall. Was it her imagination or could she actually see it creeping higher? ‘Growing,’ DaemonS reminded herself. The stuff didn’t creep; it grew from the duracrete that it somehow modified. Like a... technovirus, it changed matter to suit its purpose. At least that was Figment’s theory. What did she know about this kind of stuff? Her game was figuring out how to kill things, not figuring out what made them live. Staying alive had been all the challenge she’d needed since she’d been a girl. Now her world was changing.

  Anyway, if they had to return, at least it was nice to do so fully equipped, she thought, patting her flak cannon.

  The Cowgirlz moved into the room, fanning out. Two covered the main tunnel, two guarded the dark side passage, and Vorpal watched all from a corner of the platform, Gauss gun shouldered and ready.

  Figment scraped a sample from the altered wall of the room, letting it fall into a small, fat, transparent cylinder. He triggered a pair of catches on the top and the vessel sealed with a puff of expelled air.

  “We done then?” DaemonS asked him. “I don’t like the feeling of this place.”

  “I need a few more samples from further within the complex.”

  “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

  DaemonS and Defcon led the way along the main passage, weapons ready, while Figment followed closely and the other three Cowgirlz brought up the rear.

  Figment took a second sample in the narrow corridor before they continued toward the deeper rooms.

  “What’s wrong?” Figment asked as DeamonS and Defcon stopped at the end of the corridor.

  “This,” DaemonS said, pointing in front of them to what could only be called a large sphincter. “It wasn’t here last time.”

  “The modifications are happening quickly then,” Figment surmised as Pincer, Bodybag and Vorpal arrived taking up defensive positions in the rear.

  “I would feel better if I knew why,” DaemonS said.

  Figment touched the thin skin covering the entrance and it snapped open moving from the center outward. “Wouldn’t we all?” He stepped into a room that was nothing like DaemonS remembered.

  “What the hell is that?” Pincer asked, from behind.

  “I have no idea,” DaemonS said, “but you can count me officially worried.”

  “I take it things here were also a little d
ifferent last time,” Figment said as he took another sample.

  DaemonS stepped just past the entrance, to stand next to Figment “You could say that.”

  She remembered the room as being large and cubic with ramps leading down first to a circular platform and from there to the main level. There had also been a trench running along two sides. Instead, just a few days later, and the the four strands that supported it had lifted the dais — now a solid, circular slab of metal — into the air. They no longer contacted it directly, but were fixed to a thin sphere that joined the top of the dais. The strands had thickened and now resembled the shiny, black tentacles of a monstrous squid as they reached to the ceiling. Below the dais the shell of a vehicle seemed to be half-formed. It almost looked to DaemonS like...

  “A falcon?” Figment pulled the words from her thoughts.

  “But upside down. And the walls, they’re much thicker,” she noted. “It would take a lot of energy to get that thing off the ground.”

  Figment moved closer, examining the shell. “I agree, but I wouldn’t want to fight it when it was airborne. Not without an ion cannon handy in any event.”

  “Hey Daem, check this,” Pincer called from where the lower entrance used to be.

  DaemonS stepped around Figment and the construct and made her way to Pincer. “What you got?”

  “The generators, Daem.”

  “Disassembled?”

  “No, modified.”

  As she looked into the corridor she saw Pincer was right. A long glowing tube half her height and as wide as the corridor filled the passageway, stretching back toward the generator room.

  “What the hell?”

  “It looks almost like a fuel line, Daem.”

  “Boss?”

  A horrible thought struck her — it was a fuel line!

  “Boss!”

  As one, the four other Cowgirlz turned to stare at Bodybag. Not since her clone accident had they heard such fear in her voice.