by Rod Little
They approached the atrium door with care, and first listened. No sounds came through.
“Hey, it's us!” Sam said. “We're back!”
“That wasn't smart,” Dexter scolded. “You just gave away our position. We're fair game now, if that turns out to be someone else in there.”
Bohai pointed to their guns. “To be fair, I think the gun shots gave us away. Like George said...”
“Yes, well... good point.”
Dexter punched the door panel, but the doors were locked. He tried again.
“This has been locked from outside. Odd.”
“Can you override it?” Sam asked.
“2112,” Bohai said. “It's the code.”
But Dexter already knew, as always. He entered the code that opened the Atrium door. The men peeked inside. It was dark. They could make out the shapes of a few shrubs and some chairs, but nothing else could be discerned. Yet they could hear a rustling sound. It wasn't until the first head made its appearance that they realized the heat signatures did not belong to their friends.
One Saratu crept out of the darkness and into the light, hissing and clicking. Then two more scaled the chairs and sniffed the air. They smelled two Sayans!
A horde of them swarmed from the shadows and surged toward the door. George fired one shot, as Dexter jabbed the panel: he snapped the door shut and locked it. A few creatures slammed into the door's other side and shook its frame, but it held firm.
“So that's it,” Sam said. “They're not on the station. No one is here. Our people are gone.”
“The Vortex was still in dock,” Bohai reminded them. “So they didn't leave by that. And they weren't on it. The scans were dark.”
“So where are they?”
“You don't think...?”
“No,” Sam said resolutely. He guessed what they were thinking. “They weren't eaten. They're not dead. I know it.” He knew no such thing, but he refused to think otherwise.
“Those things looked pretty hungry,” George pointed out. “I don't think they've just eaten a whole station of people today.” He had intended to make them feel better, but it landed badly. “I'm just saying...”
“You both have a good point,” Dexter said. “We would have seen a great deal of blood, if they had been eaten, and other signs of a struggle. I'm convinced they left the station. How or why, that's a mystery. The ships are all in dock, so my only hypothesis is that the station was boarded and someone else took them off, either as a rescue or as prisoners.”
They all turned and looked at Sheni.
“Don't look at me. If the rebels or the Sayan army took them, they didn't clue me in. I have no idea.”
“She has no idea,” George mocked. “My rear, she doesn't!”
Sheni added quickly: “But I do know they'll come here for the Seed. They'll stop at nothing to get it.”
“Which? The army or the rebels.”
“Both. Lusus, Yota and his men, Loxtan Vahr, they all want it.”
“But you still don't know why?”
“I don't. Really, we were sent to find it. Not told why. It's above my pay grade.”
“She's lying,” George growled.
“Possibly,” Dexter agreed. He felt the first stirrings of anger inside him – this came with his frustration at the boiling pot of unanswered questions – but he quelled the urge to lash out. “It's no matter. For now, the relic is safely confined on the ship. Only we know where it is.”
“I don't care about that stupid trinket,” Sam whined. “Our first priority is to find my brother and the rest of our people.”
“Shouldn't that tin-can man still be around here somewhere?” George asked. “That robot. He should have stayed on the station, don't you think?”
Dexter, increasingly annoyed, clicked his tongue. “Guessing is like sawing sawdust. I suggest we seek out a more concrete set of answers.”
The Saratu threw their bodies against the Atrium door, as if to remind everyone of their continued existence, and their continued threat. The door trembled a bit more, but Dexter didn't think it would give way.
And that's when the lights went out... again.
Chapter 34
The overhead lights and power remained off for only a short time. Walter and the two young boys maneuvered through the darkness, keeping one hand on the wall and both eyes on Bem's light. The narrow corridors wove to a wider fork not far from the first rendezvous point. This was the back-up location, but still no one was there. Instead, there was a dead Saratu body, and Bem's small light revealed streaks of blood further down the hallway leading to a bone. It was another human leg bone, stripped of all flesh.
“Gross,” said Mark. Dylan agreed.
Walter pushed them aside. “Look away, boys. Walk around it.”
“This is the agreed meeting point,” Bem confirmed. “We were to regroup here and attempt to hide in the storage bay, where we would have some control capabilities. However, there are no life signs in the storage bay.”
“And the rest of the station?”
“I cannot access the systems, and my local scanners reach only this vicinity. However, I do not read any other life forms on this deck, on the station within proximity of this spot.”
“This is my least favorite way to travel,” Walter said bitterly. “In the dark, on foot.”
Bem lit his palm light again, and scanned the corridor and its walls. He waited for Walter to make a decision, then rolled ahead when the man gave his consent.
They roamed that end of the station for another hour with no new discovery, no people, no luck. And then the lights and power flared back on. The humans shielded their eyes until their pupils adjusted to the new illumination.
“Finally!” Mark shouted. The boy was tired of tracking the robot's tiny beam of light. He noticed a rogue lace, bent down and tied his shoe.
“The sensors are back online,” Bem noted. He tilted his metal head. “I detect multiple life forms, but have no way of knowing if they are creatures or humans. However, there is a cluster of five moving toward us at a slow and steady pace. It does match the pattern of a creature pack in stalking mode. I believe.”
“Fabulous,” Walter sighed wearily. “You boys have any weapons?”
“I have a gun,” Mark said, holding out a small pistol. “But no bullets left.”
“Anything else?”
Both Mark and Dylan shook their heads. In fact, they each had a knife, but knew it would be of little use in hand to alien-creature combat. The group was defenseless, save for the robot.
“What can you do?” Mark asked Bem. “Can you laser zap them?”
“I do not possess combat laser capabilities,” Bem said. “But I cannot be harmed by most organic beings. I may be capable of thwarting their advance using my fists in a punching rotation. Assuming they attack one at a time.”
“Not sure we can count on that,” Walter said. His shoulders slumped forward. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”
The four of them trekked further down a new corridor to search for clues to their group's fate. After a few hours of searching the area, and no sign yet of their friends or any approaching party of aliens, the possibility of their friends actually being gone – what Walter dreaded most – had to be brought to the surface. Roaming endlessly was pointless.
Another fork leading two directions presented itself three meters ahead. Bem rolled forward and aimed his sensors and eyeball-lights in both directions. Nothing stirred in either hall. Nothing except for the shadows cast by Bem's own strange form, lending a horror-movie pitch to the search.
“I recommend the right bifurcation,” Bem said. “It leads to a set of rooms we have not yet explored today. Are you in agreement?”
“That's fine,” said Walter. He was tired, and it started to show. He couldn't hide it any longer. “You boys watch the rear. If you see or hear anything, let me know.”
The robot rolled forward, with the others in tow. They proceeded at a cautious pace, glidi
ng across the tiles with soft footsteps to make as little noise as possible.
Suddenly the sound of clicking exploded from behind the walls and from a distant corridor. It got louder, then faster.
Click-click, click-click, click.
It evolved from nothing to become a concert of terror, scraping the walls from side to side.
And then the first creature crept past the corner and stood facing the humans in their hallway. It snarled in an unnatural manner, in between clicks, baring its teeth. Its white eyes rolled up in its head. It prowled forward. Behind it, another creature appeared and twisted itself into an attack position, like a loaded spring.
Walter and the boys froze. Bem rolled forward three feet to block their way.
The two creatures vaulted into the air, and Bem caught one of them with his sturdy metal fist. He sent it reeling against the wall with the strength only a machine can produce.
The second creature executed its jump past Bem and landed on Walter, sending him flat on his back to the floor, and both slid across the smooth surface. His glasses flew off and skidded to the corner. The beast opened its jaws, but then recoiled and jumped off of Walter, as if his feet had been burned. It curled up the right paw that had touched Walter's neck, and limped away from the man. It howled, and its cry filled the hall.
In the next second, a bolt of electricity flew down the corridor and sent the alien beast sliding into its companion, dazing it. Then a plasma ball of blue electricity sizzled across the air and killed them both.
It was Sam's spark.
Mark turned and ran to hug Sam, and then Bohai. He was a little afraid of George, so he just waved a small hand in his direction, and he didn't know the woman. He didn't know Dexter well, either.
Bohai bent down and helped Walter to his feet. Sam found his glasses and brought them to the ruffled scientist.
“You're back,” was all Walter said. He nodded to Dexter; they exchanged a greeting with without saying any words.
“We are,” Sam smiled. “Are you okay? You fell pretty hard. Are you bruised? Broken?”
“I'm fine, I'm fine. Stop fussing. Is the Praihawk back in dock?”
“Yes, it's back in dock. We made it.”
Walter pointed to Sheni. “And you only rescued one person?”
“Yeah, rescued – took as prisoner – it's complicated. We'll explain later. Where's everyone else?”
Walter regained his composure and straightened his glasses. “We don't know.”
“What do you mean, you don't know?”
“We were supposed to meet them and go into hiding. There are creatures all over the station. But... we can't find the group.”
“Most of the creatures are contained now,” George said. He rested his rifle on his shoulder and leaned back with a little pride, as if he'd done it single-handed. “But I don't see how a hundred and plus people can 'up and disappear. You been on the station the whole time?”
“Yes. We have not left the station,” Bem answered. “However, we were in the control room, while the others moved to a safer location. Our rendezvous attempt has failed.”
“They're gone?” Sam asked. He scratched his head. “Where? I mean, it's a big station... but where?”
“They are not on the station,” Bem informed them. “There are not enough life signs to account for their numbers. I only detect life forms in the Atrium–”
“The creatures,” Sam interjected.
“And a dozen more life forms traversing various ducts of the station, and of course, our forms here.”
“So a dozen more of those things are loose,” George whistled and switched his rifle to his other shoulder. “Keep your eyes peeled, guns loaded and ears up, ladies.”
Bohai shook his head. “Think, Walter. Where could the others have gone?”
“Where the hell is my brother?” Sam huffed. “People don't just disappear.”
“In space, I think they do,” said Dexter. They were unusually enigmatic words for him, but truer words were never spoken.
In space, anything can happen. People do just disappear. Vaporized. Or something worse.
Each of them conjured his own grim imaginings of what might have happened, but Sam shook his off.
“There is an explanation. Right?”
Bem blinked his mechanical eyes: “There is always an explanation. It might not be the one you want.”
“I missed you, Bem,” Bohai said. “You're a real crowd pleaser, a mood-lifter. And I'm being sarcastic.”
Dexter shared some of his data with Walter. “The creatures can't really hurt you Earthlings. They are susceptible to multiple organ failures at the touch of your flesh, almost like an allergic reaction. A severe reaction. But that doesn't mean they can't bite you before they realize what you are.”
“Interesting,” Walter said. “But they've been aggressive toward us.”
“I can't explain that,” Dexter continued. “But we Sayans are fair game. We can indeed be killed by them, and we are unable to inflict the same harm your bodies can do to them.”
“You and your wife are at extra risk,” Walter said, understanding. “And Sam, and his brother?”
“They're at risk, too.”
Bohai became quiet and took steps down the hall; he cocked his head to one side. Then he strolled further down the hall and listened intently.
“What is it?” Sam asked, and Bohai shook his head.
“Don't wander off,” Dexter ordered. “We finally found survivors. If you get lost, we're not coming to find you.”
“We'd find you,” Sam argued. “But he's right. Don't wander off.”
“I can hear them,” Bohai said.
“Our people? Where?”
“No.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” George asked. “I don't hear anyone.”
“Not people. I can hear the alien creatures: the Saratu. I can hear them finally. I understand them.” Bohai turned back to his friends. “We've been wrong all along.”
“What the Sam Hill are you talking about?” George yelled. “Those critters?”
“They never wanted to kill us,” Bohai said. “They want to kill the Sayans. Their purpose is to protect the Seed from the Sayans. When we entered Sheni's ship, they were already in a rage from the encounter with her crew. And they could smell the Sayan DNA in Sam. And then Dexter!”
“But they attacked the station, too,” Walter pointed out. “They went after all of us.”
“They're not that intelligent; they act on instinct,” Bohai explained. “Pure instinct drives them. When Sheni's ship entered the Nebula, it woke them up. The centipedes started to change. Then, when we touched the Seed, it got them into more of a frenzy. Sam touched it, and he is Sayan. Here on the station they could smell Shane and Dexter's wife. They knew Sayans were on board. But they got confused when they attacked Walter. And they must have had another encounter here, too, because that also confused them. They have trouble sorting the two out.”
Walter shook his head. “We saw the bones of a leg that was eaten, back at the rendezvous point. They ate an Earthling.”
“No, they can't. That was a Sayan bone. It was either Shane's or... Dexter's wife.”
“How big was the bone?” Dexter asked. His wife was small. He prayed it wasn't her.
“I'm not sure,” Walter said with some sympathy. “It was too large to be a small woman, I think.”
It may have been Shane, he thought to himself, but said nothing. He watched Sam. “I'm sure we're misunderstanding the situation.”
“But it was one of them,” Sam croaked. His fingers sparked.
“That may not necessarily be true,” Bem stated in his digital voice. He was not trying to comfort anyone; he simply wished to point out the logic of additional possibilities. “There may have been more Sayans on board the station. We know little of the new arrivals. A spy, perhaps, or a defector.”
“Thanks, Bem,” Sam said. The spark at his fingertips fizzled out. “I'm going w
ith your theory. My brother isn't dead.”
“So where the hell is he, and the rest of them?” George huffed. “I'm getting tired of this Scooby Doo mystery routine.”
“Me, too. Do the Saratu know where our people are? Have they seen them or... eaten them?”
“No, and no,” Bohai said, still listening to the walls. “I don't know. Maybe. They ate someone, but not everyone. And they don't know where the rest are hiding, but they're agitated. They smell more Sayans on the station. Umm.. that would be you, Sam, and Dexter and Sheni. You're... upsetting them.”
“A million pardons,” Sheni said. “Let's simply blow them all out the airlock.”
“Do not speak,” Dexter chided. “You don't get a vote here. And I'm not sure we won't jettison you out of an airlock.”
She glared at him, but kept quiet.
“Who is she again?” Walter asked.
“A pain in the ass,” George muttered.
But she may yet have a use, thought Dexter.
“The Saratu could be a powerful ally,” Bohai said. “Especially on Earth. We might be able to use them to our advantage against Lusus.”
“First we gotta find our people,” George said. “First things first. Re-group. Organize. Rally.”
And then a thin reedy voice came from the other end of the hall. They had not even noticed that Mark and Dylan had sauntered so far away, down the hall to collect their Magic game cards from the floor, and now Dylan spoke, “They're here.”
He and Mark looked pale as they pointed down another corridor that forked off to the left.
“Our people? My brother?” Sam asked. He jogged quickly toward the boys.
Mark and Dylan shook their heads. They froze in place, as did Sam when he saw what lurked in the shadows.
“No. The creatures. They're here.”
The clicking started again.
Click-click. Click-click.
The creatures were back.