Alien, Awakening

by Sandra Harris

  She glanced around the room. Above a waist-high, narrow trim of what looked like rainbow-tinted dichroic glass on a space-black background, straight lines of dark, crystal forms covered pale cream walls. A transparent layer gave the silver-blue floor a sense of depth.

  “What are these places, TL?”

  “Pantry.”

  Surprise twitched her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “These are a section of the larders for those who lived here and those who were invited to visit.”

  “Why are they still, er, stocked?”

  “The food is naturally growing. Masterframe has maintained them in anticipation of returning descendants.”

  Ah-huh. Not going to chase down that line of questioning yet. Not the time, not the place.

  “How much farther do we have to go?”

  “This structure sinks deep into the ocean bed. To reach the descendants, we must go to the lower levels. The trespassers do not come this way because they cannot enter without the assistance of Masterframe. She also disguised this section to their electronic analyses as a geological formation.”

  A tall, rectangular section of the wall shimmered as they approached.

  “We must proceed with all alacrity through this next sector in order to reach a tube via which we can descend.”

  T’Hargen slid his laser from its holster.

  Tube?

  “I promise you, TL, if we end up in a garbage compactor, I will not be happy.”

  “No, no,” he assured. “Not waste.”

  There was something about that answer that disturbed her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. And that disturbed her even more.

  “If not waste then—”

  The rectangle vanished and a doorway appeared. TL shot through it. T’Hargen’s hand wrapped around hers, a grim set to his face, and he took off. She had little choice but to follow. They ran into a large, open, pale-grey and rose area with numerous corridors leading off in various directions.

  An uneasy silence filled the air.

  “Quickly,” TL shooed, “she cannot detain them for long. We must proceed.”

  He sped across the spacious expanse. T’Hargen tugged her hand and they sprinted after TL. A narrow doorway snapped open. She caught a glimpse of an unlit closet of a room, compact, electronic workstations snug against one wall, then they barrelled in. T’Hargen’s fingers closed more securely around her hand. She skidded to a halt beside him. The door whizzed shut. Her ragged breathing echoed around the dark space.

  An irritable shout, followed by cursing in the Bluthen language, filtered from the hall. Multiple heavy treads stomped towards their hiding place. Heavy blows of fear and dread bombarded Kat’s chest. She curled her fingers around T’Hargen’s hand and hung on. He put her behind him and faced the door.

  Eternity seemed to inhabit each breath of space between footfalls. Anxious anticipation coiled around her spirit as though to squeeze the life out of her.

  The footsteps reached their position. Passed.

  Relief almost choked her. Bluthen dialogue mumbled just out of range for her to distinguish words, then faded. Silence hung around them. Her heart beat against her ribs as though counting the last seconds of an epoch.

  Then anger fizzled through her, routing her fear.

  “What the hell did you lead us in here for, TL?” she hissed.

  An almost inaudible buzz twanged across her nerves. T’Hargen consulted his scanner, its faint light illuminating his hand. He turned to her and pulled her in close for a bear hug. His embrace lessened then he leaned down to her.

  “This is where we enter the descent tube,” he whispered into her ear.

  She clamped her mouth tight. Figures.

  TL shed a faint, comforting light and his lasers glowed.

  Now what?

  A finely focused beam of golden light streamed from him towards the back wall, then ran a line downwards.

  “What’s he doing?” she murmured.

  “Creating an entrance.”

  Creating an entrance? I swear if he’s going all Death Star on me, I’ll shoot him myself.

  TL blurped a half-‘oh-shit’, half-disgustedly resolute squeak.

  “Wh—”

  A thump resounded on the door. She very nearly snatched T’Hargen’s laser from his hand and fired at the door until the energy had drained from the weapon.

  Worked last time.

  More blows landed on the door. Puzzled Bluthen voices debated the cause of the sudden rash of computer glitches, the source of the mysterious energy signature behind the door, and their inability to open a simple access hatch. The Bluthen speech dredged up memories of pain and terror. Her hands shook and her mouth dried. Her heart pummelled her breastbone in a frantic effort to flee.

  One authoritative voice demanded a laser cleaver be brought immediately. Her brained almost seized. T’Hargen’s face appeared before her terrified eyes. Thorns sharpened his cranial ridges. His strong hands gripped her shoulders and he leaned close, his nose touching hers.

  “Kathryn, you are safe,” he murmured. She could barely hear him over the clamour of agitated Bluthen at the door and the roar of fear in her mind. A subdued sparkle twinkled in his eyes. “Do not freak out on me. I need you.”

  She blinked.

  “If they break through the door before we have escaped, they are door-nail dead.”

  What?

  TL whistled. T’Hargen urged her to one side, lifted a leg, and kicked.

  “Go!”

  Go? Go where?

  A synapse fired. Her gaze focused on TL. She watched him pass through a hole in the back wall and then through an opening cut into a large, clear tube. More neurons connected.

  Escape! She dived towards the small cavity like an Olympic swimmer going for gold in the fifty-metre sprint. Who cares if it’s a garbage compactor?

  “Careful, Kathryn!”

  Careful be damned, I’m outta here.

  She stuck her head through the opening and lifted a knee to find purchase on the thick edge of the Perspex-like tube. Large, warm hands gripped her waist, boosted her up, then steadied her. Absolute darkness seemed to press in on the other side of the tube. She eyed the rather sharp, downwards slope and the utter smoothness of the material beneath her palms and fingers.

  Just as well they had to go down.

  “There had better be a painless and easy halt at the end of this, TL.”

  The acrid smell of molten polymer stung her nostrils.

  “Kathryn, as much as I enjoy this position, and I do not wish to hurry you, but . . .”

  “Hurry?”

  “Please.”

  She hunched her shoulders in the confined space. T’Hargen was going to find it a tight fit. She wriggled around to get her feet first then pushed off.

  Her downwards passage gathered speed with alarming alacrity.

  At least it gets me away from the Bluthen more quickly.

  The orange glow of TL’s cockpit, eerie against the absolute blackness that now engulfed them, maintained a steady distance in front of her. Uncomfortable warmth began to heat her butt. The sound of T’Hargen in the pipe behind her lifted her spirits. The conduit curved away from the rock wall. Mild relief eased over the adrenaline burning her veins.

  At least the bastards can’t shoot us in the back now.

  Disgruntled and alarmed shouts, followed by a small explosion, echoed faintly from behind.

  “Masterframe caused an overload in the equipment,” TL piped, his whistle flowing back to her like birdsong in a hurricane tunnel. “Enough damage has been caused to prevent immediate pursuit.”

  Yay, team!

  She tried to close her mind to the extremely dis
concerting, utter weirdness, of sliding—without any apparent means of support—through unfathomable darkness. Didn’t work.

  “Give us some light, TL, if it won’t place us in danger.”

  His uncertain warble queried her request.

  Am I sure? What sort of question is that to ask a person?

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  A mere will-o-the-wisp radiance shone from him, barely reflected from the clear substance of the conduit around him.

  Somehow, it seems to me that does not improve things.

  “More.”

  TL oopled a doubtful, “If you’re sure,” and then light blazed forth. She squinted against the glaring brightness until vision returned. A vast cavern, its dimensions lost in the dark shadows edging the light, hung around them. Multiple tubes, their surfaces dotted with tiny sparks glinting like sunlight on snow, criss-crossed the enormous space, intersecting here and there.

  Right. Well, I see what he means.

  Their conduit curved to the left, dropped steeply, and—

  Are those tunnels shifting? No, not the tunnels, just ours. If we’re moving, then . . .

  She snapped her gaze forwards and stared down the straight length of the conduit they flew through.

  Oh, Christ, the end’s open!

  Her heart flew to her mouth and flopped around on her tongue like a stranded fish. She looked down. Into the dark of an unfathomable bottom.

  Bad idea.

  T’Hargen’s booted feet slid past her hips and down the sides of her legs. His tree-trunk arms wrapped around her and held her tight against his hard body. She leaned into him, then braced her feet with his against the sides of the tunnel and tried to slow their break-neck velocity. Eyes wide, she stared with horrified fascination as the tailpiece of their slippery-slide panned across darkness, then aligned with another tube. An opening appeared.

  She swallowed her heart.

  They approached the junction at express speed.

  “The trespassers have broadcast an alarm regarding intruders. Intruders!” TL hooted, “They are the intruders. How dare they—”

  “Keep your focus, Drone.” T’Hargen’s stolid voice rang in her ear. “What is happening?”

  Adrenaline flowed so fast through Kat’s veins she was pretty sure she could have threaded a sewing machine while it was running. She suppressed the half-excitement, half-fear coursing through her system and strove for control. TL flew backwards before them, probably getting close to Mach One.

  She planted her hands on T’Hargen’s thighs and hung on. They shot through the entrance into the other tunnel. Momentum slammed their shoulders into the channel’s side. The decline increased.

  Again.

  “TL, we can’t tolerate an abrupt end to this speed. We’ll end up as a lump of strawberry jam.”

  “Masterframe is attempting to get us to safety before . . .”

  “Before what?”

  “The trespassers are programming a modified ion pulse to be sent through the tube system.”

  “And that would be bad, right?”

  “Extremely.”

  “If Masterframe is concerned,” T’Hargen said, “that would indicate the portals where the tunnels join will withstand the force of the pulse and the conduits will channel the shock wave.”

  Not going to need a sudden stop to end up as strawberry jam, then.

  “Masterframe can’t stop the Bluthen?”

  “No, not in her current condition. Oh! Oh, my. She . . .” TL’s warble trailed off into a disturbingly embarrassed tone.

  An unsavoury odour filled the tube. The sound of rushing, tumbling liquid bore down on them.

  Kat glared at TL. “What the hell has she done?”

  Chapter 9

  A roar like storm-rough waves breaking on a beach thundered towards them. Kat twisted her head and stared back over T’Hargen’s shoulder. Brown liquid frothed towards them, swirling up and around the sides of the tube like . . . water! Like water! Down a toilet.

  I think I’d rather the garbage compactor.

  She turned her gaze to T’Hargen. The steady resolution in his eyes stiffened her outraged wits and assured her of his unwavering mettle. Rank odour assaulted her nose. The surging fluid seemed to compress and intensify the dreadful stench accompanying it, almost shoving it at them like a taunting warning. She faced forwards and braced. Foetid smell bowled over them, strangling the breath in her lungs. She gagged. T’Hargen’s big hand covered her nose and mouth and his arms enveloped her more securely.

  His body jerked. Droplets sprayed her cheeks. A warm torrent of foul liquid gushed past, curling over her thighs, pooling in her lap, rising to her waist, but climbing no higher. Gelatinous blobs that her mind refused to catalogue bumped against her as they slid by in the tumultuous flow. In a malodorous, rushing stream, they jetted down the tube.

  “We approach the exit point,” TL piped.

  Kat dug her fingers into T’Hargen’s thighs and scanned ahead. The conduit curved to the right. She gazed through the transparent material of the tube and followed the course of its sharp arc into a dismayingly steep drop followed by a short, horizontal shaft leading . . .

  Onto nothing.

  The tube simply ended, apparently in mid-air. T’Hargen’s hand moved from her mouth to her forehead and pressed her head into his shoulder. His legs wrapped around hers and the strength in his arms seemed to increase. They whipped into the bend. Ballistic speed slammed their bodies into the off wall. Centripetal acceleration tried to flip them. She added her strength to T’Hargen’s to keep them upright.

  His muttered curse echoed her feelings.

  Surely Masterframe wouldn’t just dump us somewhere lethal.

  They flew through the curve in a torrent of foul water. She risked a look down. Something glinted in the great expanse of blackness towards which they sped.

  Not nothing . . . Is that—?

  “TL, is that water?” Shit, shit, shit. “Is it deep?”

  The chaotic, sloshing noise of their passage almost drowned her friend’s reticent warble of reassurance. Fear kicked her anger.

  “I didn’t ask if it would be okay,” she yelled at him. “I asked how deep it was.”

  “Some parts have relative deepness, others not,” TL replied.

  She half-twisted within T’Hargen’s secure embrace and stared up at him. His stoic calm heartened her.

  “I can keep you afloat. I can get you to safe—”

  The world dropped away below her legs and they plummeted. She slammed her hands against the conduit sides in a vain attempt for stability. Rank water cascaded around her, poured over her head, and drenched her body. She blinked through the downpour and tried not to breathe. Support solidified beneath her feet, then her butt compressed on the smooth surface of the conduit as it levelled out. Gravity and momentum rushed them forwards then spat them out.

  Water the consistency of spongy concrete punched at her torso, trying to rip her from T’Hargen’s embrace. In a whirling tumble they skipped over the glassy surface. Velocity decreased. Water became water and dragged at them. They slowed, skied, then settled into the lake.

  For a second, T’Hargen’s hold remained unbreakable then his arms loosened. She spun to him, gasping in breath.

  “I’ll—”

  “There is no need, Kathryn.”

  Her boots touched bottom. She stood easy in his arms and waited a moment for her brain to cease turning somersaults and her eyes to stop spinning. TL’s light reflected off the dark water. Whatever had flushed them down the tube was now a light smear on the surface.

  “You should depart from the water,” TL encouraged. “Unless you require my flotation device?”

  “Thank you, Drone, no. Kathryn, I would be d
elighted to remove ourselves from this environment.”

  Yes. Yes, of course!

  “Sorry, just getting my bearings.”

  “The nutrient in the liquid is for what lives in the depths,” TL added in a tone that suggested he thought the information helpful.

  What?

  “There’s something living in here?”

  T’Hargen gripped her shoulders, urged her around, and herded her towards a rock ledge. His hands slid under her armpits and boosted her from the water. In one graceful bound, he joined her. On hands and knees, she coughed excess fluid from her throat then spat the foul taste from her mouth. T’Hargen’s hands roamed her body, patting her down with almost frantic haste.

  “I’m okay, thank you. You?”

  He lifted her upright, no small feat given her size, then gave her a quick squeeze and stood back a pace.

  “I have suffered no injures.”

  Thank goodness for that.

  She gazed at TL’s clean form and scowled. “I see you managed not to get slimed.”

  He offered a somewhat sheepish oople.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t noxious.”

  “The nutrient? It is not.”

  Wonderful.

  “And neither is the inhibitor. At least, not to you.”

  Brilliant.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” TL parroted.

  “Why did we just get flushed with nutrient and inhibitor?”

  “The trespassers could not access the system to send the ion pulse if the cleansing and feeding routine was running.”

  Lucky us.

  T’Hargen rubbed the fingers of one hand repeatedly over his mouth, looking rather like a man who had just spent three hours in the company of precocious five-year-old twins with an enthusiastic penchant for chemistry, and a tin of brown Play-Doh.