Neighbors

by Brian Whiting

  “Yeah, I ain’t too keen on this here idea myself. Isn’t there another way?”

  Jack spoke from the hallway. “You have two simple choices. You can

  stay here, and maybe we find another way to get you off the ship, or you

  man up and follow your XO to safety. It’s up to you.” He could hear the

  other squad members’ comm chatter a few decks below, as he alone in the

  group had access to their channel.

  “It went down that way.”

  “Damn, you blew its leg off!”

  “I’m turned around! What’s in that direction?”

  “That’s where it came from.”

  Jack spoke into his comm, making sure the team he was with could not

  hear the conversation.

  “The drone was last seen heading our way. If you’re on the hull, keep

  one hand attached to the ship. If you let go and fire, you’re drifting into

  space. The rounds aren’t that effective in a vacuum as the chemical reaction

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  isn’t as strong, and the round exits the barrel a bit slower. Your barrel is frozen in the cold of the vacuum, so expect some jamming. Those with the

  alien handheld weapons, careful where you shoot that thing; one miss will

  cause serious damage to the ship. And don’t hit us in the back. You kill me,

  and I’m going to be pissed.”

  One by one, the soldiers and bridge crew surrounding Jack crawled

  onto the outer hull with various levels of confidence. One soldier kept let-

  ting others pass in front of him, so he ended up at the back with Jack

  and Alex.

  “C’mon, buddy, your turn.”

  “I—I…dunno.”

  They could feel the walls and floor vibrate again, much stronger

  this time.

  “They’re close!” Jack said.

  “Okay, you going or staying?” Alex asked the soldier.

  There was silence from the soldier.

  Alex looked at Jack through the helmet and pursed his lips together.

  “Go.”

  Jack nodded and walked to the edge. He looked out at the expanse of

  space, where a few pieces of pod debris drifted by. He held his breath and

  gripped onto the hull with his left hand, his fist tight like iron. Letting

  himself drift out and away from the room, he pancaked onto the outer hull.

  Alex turned to the soldier. “C’mon, your turn. What’s your name?”

  “Corporal Huey.”

  “Okay, Huey, I’ll help you. Grab my hand.”

  Huey loosely reached out and grabbed his hand, his other still holding

  onto the wall. Alex looked at the soldier, his own back exposed to empty

  space. Just behind the soldier, the Zorn drone crept in the doorway, silent

  in the vacuum.

  Alex yanked the soldier towards him, and they collided as the force

  knocked them both off the decking. Alex let go of his weapon and reached

  out for the hull, struggling for grip. With four fingers, he managed to yank

  himself to a stop while the rest of his body flailed out into space, along

  with Huey, who gripped Alex’s hand with all his might, terrified. The drone

  jumped after its prey, ignoring the vacuum and lack of gravity to reach for

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  them. Huey’s momentum continued to pull him out and then up as Alex tried to direct Huey’s body towards the Seraph. Alex let go just before his back hit the hull, hurling them both off the ship. He kept his eyes on the

  drone as it managed to barely touch Huey’s suit with its piercing leg. The

  drone continued helplessly into space, its legs flailing. Thankfully, Huey’s

  suit was undamaged.

  “Aaaagggghhhhhh!” Huey screamed into the comms system, startling

  those listening, including Alex. Alex readjusted and looked up toward

  Huey, who was on a collision course with the Seraph as he tumbled over and over towards it. Finally, he collided with the hull and bounced off it at

  a much slower pace. Alex moved closer to Huey and reached down at his

  belt which, amongst other things, included a twelve-foot length of tubular

  webbing with a carabiner attached to the end of it.

  The fear was both paralyzing and an effective motivator to keep going.

  He moved to where Huey’s drifting body would bump closest to the Abra-

  ham. He would only have one chance at getting him before he drifted out past the ships.

  “Hey, I’m going to toss this rope up to you when your body turns back

  around. You’re going to catch it, okay?”

  “I can’t see anything, I’m gonna miss it, is it long enough? Where are

  you?” Huey answered, his voice radiating panic.

  When he was about seven feet away, Alex tossed the rope about up

  towards Huey, hoping that he would catch it.

  “Ha, yeahhhhh, he!”

  He didn’t catch the rope gracefully, but still managed to get ahold of it.

  Holding onto the hull with one hand, Alex pulled him close.

  Huey’s jubilant triumph quickly turned back to panic. “Oh man, oh

  man, oh crap, oh crap!” Huey’s breathing quickened as reality sank in.

  Alex grabbed his arm again and pulled him toward Jack and the others.

  The others watched the Zorn drone drift out into space from above them,

  where they all had hold of the Seraph. Without warning, a red beam shot forth from the Seraph and cut the drone into two halves, then into smaller pieces, as the tactical officer was obviously having himself or herself a bit

  of perverse pleasure, without any worries about accidentally hitting some-

  thing behind it, just open space.

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  The scene was breathtaking. The blue marble of Earth was fairly large and directly behind the Seraph. Large and small pieces of debris littered the entire scene, drifting in various directions. He focused on them instead of

  thinking about the danger he was in, exposed in space, limbs getting cold

  as the suit struggled to compensate. All Alex could think about was Raziya, how the ship was destroyed, and Mason, its captain, along with it.

  * * *

  Renee was once again holding a video camera, recording events in the UEF

  underground receiving area, where buses were unloading the people evac-

  uated from the Complex. Six large commercial buses in groups of three

  made several return trips over the last several hours and were pulling up to

  unload the latest group of persons. The first bus passed Renee and slowed

  down, while the second and third bus stopped right in front of her. Renee

  zoomed in for a tight shot of the door.

  It opened, and the first person off the bus was a very small six-year-old

  girl. She was dressed like she just came from a party, holding the hand of

  another small child, perhaps a year or two younger. Behind them, a boy of

  about ten stepped off the bus, skirted to the side and froze in place. The

  two girls also froze in place and looked around.

  An older man got off the bus. In his arms were two kids and a shoulder

  bag of some kind. He walked past the other kids and stood against the far

  wall, where the other adults congregated.

  “My name is Peter. If you would all please form a line right here.”

  Renee turned around and focused on the UEF soldier waving his hands

  in the air.

  “Please form a line right here,” he repeated.

  “Where’s your mommy?”

  Renee turned around. The two little girls were joined by another

  woman, who clearly didn’t know the k
ids as she stood at a reasonable dis-

  tance and asked for their names.

  The little girls cried, clinging to each other. A red-haired woman got off

  the bus behind them, wearing a UEF uniform and was fairly attractive. She

  noticed the two girls crying and grabbed both of their hands.

  “It’s okay, we’ll find your parents.”

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  Another group of kids followed behind her, a bit older at ten to fifteen years old. They were wearing bathing suits.

  “I’m Renee. What happened over there?” Renee asked the woman with

  the red hair, glancing at her name badge: Tiffany.

  “Buses were picking up people all day, but it’s been crazy. When the

  first pod fell out of the sky, panic set in and families got split up. UEF security pushed a bunch of kids onto buses. No one knows where the parents

  are; I got swept up in the action, trying to find this one’s mommy when I

  got pushed onto the bus. I was one of three adults on this bus, and now

  I’m trying to take care of some of the younger ones.” She turned back and

  pushed along a few other kids to the line that was forming. Most of the kids

  were holding juice boxes. Another child was crying behind Renee, and she

  turned the camera to face him.

  “It’s okay, we’re going to find your parents.” Tiffany managed to pull

  out a juice box from her bag, juggling the child. She handed the crying

  child the juice box, and the child settled.

  “Please, follow me, stay in line,” Tiffany said to the growing group

  of kids.

  “Oh my God, Jason!”

  Renee turned to see two adults get off the third bus and run over to the

  boy behind Renee. The three of them embraced tightly and cried with joy.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “I don’t know,” the little boy whimpered.

  “Everyone is being brought to the center. Anyone you’re looking for

  will likely be there,” said Peter. “Please follow me.”

  The mass of people followed, whether they were in the line or not.

  Tiffany was surrounded by children looking to her for support. The group

  walked a few hundred yards down a brightly-lit corridor that led to a very

  open, arena-style area. The entire UEF populace loitered in the stands or on

  the stage in the center. Peter led the group right to the center of the floor.

  Renee was closer to the rear of the group and watched a man stand

  up and rush towards the new arrivals. A younger teenager broke from the

  group and ran towards the man, and was crushed into a tight hug.

  Renee lingered on their reunion for some time before realizing the

  group she was a part of was nowhere to be seen. The arena was like any

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  standard arena, except the ceiling was concave limestone. She carefully made her way to the center area where several temporary tables were set

  up. Some offered food and drink, while others were taking names and scan-

  ning IDs.

  She walked to one of the tables taking names. The woman writing

  names down looked up and smiled. “Renee Sorenson?”

  Renee looked at the woman’s name tag: Mrs. Jacobs. “Yes, that’s me.”

  The women coded a special all-access pass and handed it to her. “Your

  domicile is located in Wing A-1, along with Alex and the others. Informa-

  tional pamphlets are waiting for you in your room.”

  “Can I use a phone? I get no signal down here.”

  “See the pamphlets, dear, and move along.” The woman waved Renee

  off and accepted the ID of the next person in line, scanning it quickly and

  setting up a standard badge.

  Renee backed up a few steps and turned around once or twice, trying

  to figure out where wing A-1 might be located.

  * * *

  “If you left just one day earlier, you wouldn’t be here right now. But no,

  you had to go skulk off instead of just quitting like you wanted to. Now

  look at yourself, you’re in a filthy tunnel in the middle of an alien invasion, and what are you doing?” Zeek whispered angrily to himself as he opened

  a small hatch door.

  Zeek crawled out of a maintenance corridor. Covered with black and

  gold dirt, he was unrecognizable. He reached in and pulled out a toolkit he

  used to repair a data line severed in a partial cave in, then shut the metal

  hatch and locked it. Large groups of people were being escorted in various

  directions, being led to their rooms in the open corridor.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where to find the medic station? She fell

  down and scraped her knee pretty bad.”

  Zeek looked down at the little girl. Her knee was raw and glistening in

  the lights and swelling. “Yeah, I’ll take you there.”

  “Oh, it’s okay, you can just tell me. I can see you’re very busy.”

  Zeek looked at the woman holding the child. To him, she was breath-

  takingly beautiful. He stood there like a statue for a moment too long, and

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  a smile slowly formed on his face, exposing his clean, white teeth under the filthy face. The little girl cried loudly in fear.

  Zeek tried to reach out to the little girl but stopped when he noticed

  his arm was completely covered in dirt. He pulled back his arm. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll find it.”

  “No!” His unintentional shout startled the pair, and he grinned, embar-

  rassed. “Sorry. I’ll take you. It’s this way.”

  Zeek turned and walked in the opposite direction to where he needed

  to go next. The girl continued to cry.

  “It’s okay, little bunny, we are gonna be fine.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “I…I don’t know. I was watching some kids, and this one got hurt.”

  “What’s your name then?”

  “Tiffany.”

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  Chapter 11

  Combat Fatigue

  FENA WAS PILOTING the Destiny nonstop in combat maneuvering,

  soaring through the upper atmosphere for over six hours. Every few min-

  utes, another batch of thirty to fifty pods would fall from the sky, re-engag-

  ing them. Depending on factors like if the Destiny was out of position or how fast the pods were traveling, they might be able to shoot down a fourth

  or sometimes a third of them, and those were only the pods falling in their

  general vicinity.

  She hadn’t slept in quite some time, and it was finally catching up to

  her. The worst part was that there was no end or method to stop the pods

  from falling. The air force jets managed to land, refuel and rearm once,

  some of them twice. Right now, the skies were empty, apart from an occa-

  sional pack of helicopters circling close to the ground.

  Fena looked at the clock as the tactical officer cut up the last descend-

  ing pod of this swarm. In her mind, she had a five-minute countdown

  before she’d have to start aggressive piloting again. She unbuckled from her

  chair and slowly stood up, stretching as far as she could in the process.

  Cindy looked at her and followed her lead.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Jiya asked Fena.

  Neighbors

  Fena almost ignored her as she made her way to the bathroom.

  “Time to pee,” she replied.

  Jiya looked back at the tactical screen; her long-empty cup of

  coffee was staring back at her. As she watc
hed Cindy leave the bridge

  behind Fena, she decided to remain in her seat.

  Fena and Cindy walked into the double stalled bathroom together.

  The bathrooms were coed, as space was too valuable to have separate them. The stalls were built with zero gravity in mind, with suction hoses

  and tubing deco-rated the stalls. Fena sat and activated a hose while Cindy did the same.

  “What are we going to do?” Fena asked.

  “I’m worried about our families,” Cindy replied.

  “Do you think yours are still at the Complex?”

  “I hope not!” Cindy replied instantly.

  “I mean… Alex had a plan B in place, the captains knew about it.

  Everyone at the Complex would have been evacuated to a deep bunker

  system the UEF built.”

  Fena remained quiet. In her own stall, Cindy wept.

  “My parents weren’t at the Complex. I don’t know if they are even still

  alive.” Fena sat in a trance for a few moments, then began sobbing. Time

  passed, and it felt like no one was going to say much else, as though they

  both were hanging on by a tiny thread and any comment might break it.

  Then Cindy shut her vacuum hose off. “Right now, people are dying,

  and I’ll fight until there’s no one left to save. You’re needed on the bridge.”

  Fena heard Cindy walk out of the room. She let her head rest against

  the stall for a moment and closed her eyes. Taking in a deep breath, she

  pushed herself to her feet and shuffled back to her chair.

  She wasn’t a moment too soon as the tactical screen announced a new

  batch of incoming pods, heading for an area between Mexico and Texas.

  She plotted her course and shut her eyes, knowing she had a minute

  before she would have to touch the controls again.

  “Captain! Subspace Zorn traffic. The signal is amplified like we’ve

  never seen before.”

  * * *

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  “Captain on the bridge,” one of the armed guardsmen announced as Alex walked onto the bridge of the Seraph.

  “Isn’t there already a captain on the bridge?” Alex asked sarcastically.

  “Uhh…”

  “It’s okay, I’m just messing with you.”

  Alex eyed Jerome with a smirk. Jerome stood aside from the captain’s

  chair, which came with more displays and functions, and waited for Alex to

  take his seat. Alex admired the layout the Israelis designed for this particu-