“Grim,” said Richter.
“It’s been eviscerated,” said Fernwyn. “There are multiple other knife wounds. The neck has been cut, and there’s a deep stab to the heart. The snap on his holster is still in place, as is his knife. He never had a chance to get into the action.”
The elevator arrived on the first level, and the doors opened. Richter and Ray cleared the exit. A dull throbbing sound could be heard.
“Was it the work of a Rakhar?” asked Talvan.
“I don’t think so,” replied Fernwyn. “These cuts are very clean and precise. I think this was done with a vibro-blade.”
“Vibro-blades are very expensive,” said Aldebaran. “Nobody but surgeons and engineers use them.”
“Yeah, and they’re hardly durable enough for combat. Maybe somebody is trying to fool us into thinking that this was done by a Tenchiik.”
“Ha! Right.”
“A what?” said John.
“The Tenchiik are a fairy-tale,” said Fernwyn. “They’re supposedly a group of highly skilled genmod assassins. You start with a Kau’Rii and make them stronger and faster. They supposedly eschew firearms and use vibro-blades.”
“That doesn’t sound so implausible.”
“There are only two places you can go to get genmodded, and neither of them ever created a Tenchiik. The rumor is that they were created with private funds, but it’s ludicrous. Such a venture would be incredibly expensive.”
“Let’s not let our imaginations run away from us,” said John. “Aldebaran, which way to the club?”
“This way.”
Aldebaran led the team into the corridor. As they headed down the passage, more swaths of blood marked the bulkheads. Talvan drew his pistol. Fernwyn bent over and picked something up from the deck.
“It’s a Rakhar finger, neatly severed,” she said.
“This is fucked,” said Ray. “Maybe we should get the hell out of here.”
“You’re not losing your nerve, are you?” said Richter, smirking.
The team arrived at a large open area. It was two decks high and extended for about seventy-five yards in depth and width. Restaurants and shops lined the area, and there was significantly less trash and graffiti. The throbbing sound had become louder, and Aldebaran pointed at a door directly across from them.
“There’s the club,” he said.
“Still think everyone’s napping?” asked Richter.
“They’re not awake, that’s for sure,” replied Ray.
The group proceeded cautiously to the entrance to the club. Aldebaran opened the door, buffeting the team with loud music. Inside, flashing strobe lights and lasers moved across a large dance floor. The second level was a ring of balconies overlooking the club. There was something in the center of the floor. As the team moved inside, the something became all too apparent.
“Oh, my God,” said John.
Dozens of corpses were stacked in the center of the dance floor. The floor itself was a platform raised above a sitting area on the periphery. Blood had pooled to about three inches in the depression. There was a strong smell of rust and weapons fire in the air. Aldebaran drew his pistol.
“Let’s see if we can kill this noise,” he said.
The crew moved together to the DJ’s table, where the loud music was ceased. Aldebaran found the house lights and turned them on. The pile of bodies glistened in the bright, bleak light. Corpses from several races were readily apparent, including the limbs that lacked owners. Talvan vomited.
“Still think the Tenchiik are just a rumor?” asked Aldebaran.
“This is a bust,” said Talvan, coughing. “Let’s cut our losses and get out of here.”
“A poor choice of words,” said Richter, scanning the upper level.
“There should be a stairway to the third level behind the bar,” said Aldebaran. “That’s where the Z'Sorth’s lab should be.”
“Let’s go,” said John. “Nice and slow.”
Aldebaran led the team to the dance floor. Getting to the bar required crossing it, and the depressed seating area. Aldebaran jumped over the blood and turned to help the others do the same. Ray didn’t quite make it and his boot dragged through the liquid.
“Damn it,” he said, shaking his foot.
“Why would the Tenchiik attack this place?” asked John, trying not to stare at the bodies.
“I don’t know,” replied Aldebaran.
“If the rumors are true,” began Talvan, tip-toeing gingerly, “then the Tenchiik would have had to have been hired by someone. They’re supposed to be assassins, not psychotic murderers. I don’t know who would want this entire colony massacred.”
“How many pirates hang out here?” asked Fernwyn.
“It varies,” said Aldebaran. “On any given day, maybe five hundred. I hope, for their sake, that there weren’t too many ships docked...”
Aldebaran stopped. He’d drawn up to the end of the bar and was looked behind it. He beckoned to Fernwyn, who joined him.
“I’ll be blasted,” she said, obviously impressed.
The others took a look. A Kau’Rii lay dead behind the bar. It had black fur and wore all black clothing. The fur and vestments seemed to soak up the light, defying any reflectivity. A gear belt was fastened around its waist, and included an empty sheath. It had been shot several times with both a projectile weapon and an energy weapon. There was no blood visible despite the wounds.
“A Tenchiik?” Fernwyn murmured.
“What else could it be?” said Aldebaran.
“The Tenchiik aren’t supposed to leave their people behind,” said Talvan.
“Ten minutes ago we all thought the Tenchiik were a campfire story,” said Aldebaran. “Let’s not overreact.”
“But they might come back for the body!”
“There was a Kau’Rii ship leaving the colony when we got here, remember? They might already be gone.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said Richter.
Aldebaran nodded. “Come on.”
Around the corner, the team found the staircase to the upper levels. The stairwell was splashed with blood on the walls and ceiling, but not the stairs. The walls were pockmarked with weapon impacts.
“Looks like some serious shit went down here,” said John.
“So far it’s about sixty dead pirates for one assassin,” Ray said, frowning. “I don’t like those odds.”
The team reached the balconies on the second level. Here, there was evidence of a good time permanently interrupted. Drinks sat unfinished, and food lay in a similar state. Jackets, coats, and other personal effects were scattered about. There was much less blood. Aldebaran pointed to a door at the end of a short hallway. There was a sign on it.
“It reads, ‘private quarters, no entry’,” he said.
The door was open about an inch, and darkness lay behind it. Aldebaran advanced carefully and opened the door. Another stairway met his vision. He pressed a switch on the wall a few times.
“Lights aren’t working,” he said.
Everyone but Richter and Fernwyn drew a flashlight and turned it on. For those two, they simply turned on the lights mounted on their Phalanx rifles.
“It’s tight in there,” said John.
“Rylie, you and I will go first,” said Richter. “The rest of you, wait for my signal.”
Fernwyn nodded, and joined Richter at the bottom of the stairs. Together they ascended, smoothly and rapidly. They disappeared from sight just before Richter called out.
“Landing clear,” he said.
The others climbed the stairs and found Fernwyn and Richter crouched at the top. Their lights were illuminating a large area that covered the entire top of the club. It had a vaulted ceiling with straight steel braces and was roughly octagonal in shape. Four desks had been set up in the center of the room, each stacked with several dozen books and notepads. An impressive array of laboratory equipment lined the walls, with at least twenty different machines. There was a sense of order
ly chaos to the room.
“It certainly smells like a Z'Sorth lives here,” said Richter quietly.
Aldebaran motioned to Talvan. “Professor, we’ll clear the room. Wait here and watch the stairs.”
“I’ll do the same,” said Ray.
Talvan and Ray watched as the others paired off and began to search the room. Their flashlights bounced off of a wide variety of reflective surfaces and through flasks and vials of unknown liquid. It was completely quiet save for their footsteps. Ray’s fingers tensed around his shotgun. Talvan looked at him and began to whisper.
“Even if this stuff is working, you don’t seriously expect me to use this lab, do you? Not after what we found!”
Ray shook his head. “No, we’ll have to take what we need back to the Faith. I just hope we can carry all of...”
A figure dashed out of a dark corner toward Ray and Talvan. Ray told himself not to panic, and was completely surprised to find his body disobeying him.
“I’m saved!” it said.
“Holy shit!” Ray yelled, and fired his shotgun.
Cycling the action with perfect speed, Ray fired again. Talvan joined him, rattling off five rounds from his borrowed Glock. The figure fell backward, hissing, and was silent. The others ran over as Ray illuminated the creature with his flashlight. It was a quickly expiring Z'Sorth.
“Are you all right?” John cried.
Fernwyn, Richter, and Aldebaran swept the room with their lights and found nothing else. Talvan struggled to calm his breathing while Fernwyn ran over to check the Z'Sorth.
“Looks like we found the scientist,” said Aldebaran.
“Oh, my God,” said Ray. “I’m sorry, he jumped out at us.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Fernwyn. “He’s already stopped breathing.”
Talvan looked horrified. “I can’t believe we just killed the only survivor.”
Aldebaran put his hand on Talvan’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. Now we don’t have to ask permission to use the lab.”
“I certainly hope he wasn’t the only survivor,” said John.
“Do you really want to spend time searching this place?”
“A survivor might appreciate our help. Besides, how long is it going to take to synthesize the virus? We could send out a search party.”
“I obviously didn’t impress upon you the process here, John,” said Talvan. “This won’t take five minutes, or an hour. I need at least a day to synthesize the virus and a couple of hours to confirm that the new form is harmless to Umberians.”
“Fine, this room is clear,” said John. “Talvan, find the gear you need and we’ll take it back to the ship.”
In a daze, Talvan nodded. He brought his flashlight up and began searching the room. He moved quickly, and before too long began pointing things out.
“We’ll need that electron microscope,” he said, “and that autoclave. That culturing cabinet, that set of instruments, and... I think that’s everything.”
“How are we going to power this stuff?” asked Ray. “I doubt it runs off of 120 volt a/c.”
“My ship has a power converter,” replied Fernwyn. “We can set up the stuff in the cargo bay right next to it.”
“Good,” said John. “Let me check in with the ship. Dana, this is John, over.”
“Go ahead,” said Dana’s voice.
“How are things going back there?”
“Quiet. You?”
“There’s been some sort of attack on the colony. We’ve found several dozen dead pirates. We’re collecting the gear we need now, and we’ll be back in about ten minutes. Don’t let anybody in until we get there.”
“Like I would do that, John. Are you okay?”
“We’re holding up. I’ll contact you when we get back to the airlock. Scherer out.”
The others began collecting the things as instructed by Talvan. John and Fernwyn ended up with the culturing cabinet, which was a five foot tall metal box with a glass door. John put his weight up against it and pushed.
“It has to weight a hundred and fifty pounds,” he said, grunting. “We’ll need the two-wheeler from the ship.”
“Let me try,” said Fernwyn.
Grabbing the cabinet, Fernwyn lifted it a few inches off of the floor.
“Got it?”
“Not exactly. It’s unwieldy. I could use a guide to get it down the stairs.”
“Let me,” said Ray, handing John a microscope.
“Let’s not waste any more time here,” John said. “Aldebaran, Talvan, are you ready to go?”
“Hell yes,” said Talvan.
“I won’t be able to fire my sidearm while I’m holding this autoclave,” said Aldebaran.
“We’ll cover you,” replied John. “Richter?”
“Ready here,” Richter replied.
“Hold this,” said John, handing the microscope to Talvan. “I’ll take point. Richter, you take your normal position in the rear.”
“Roger.”
John readied his rifle, cradling the stock with his left arm so he could use his flashlight. He led the team down the stairs. Ray and Fernwyn were forced to take extra time with the cabinet, but with lots of communication and swearing they were able to bring it to the bottom of the stairwell.
“The next flight is wider,” began John, “so it should be easier for...”
John stopped talking because the house lights had just gone out. Before anyone could react, the pulsing music and light show started up again.
“What the hell?” growled Aldebaran.
“Maybe it’s on a timer.”
Richter moved to the front of the group and scanned the dance floor.
“It’s a setup,” he said, his expression steely.
John looked down, but could see nothing. “You sure?”
“Is there another way back to the concourse?” asked Fernwyn.
Aldebaran shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“What do we do?” asked Talvan.
“Fernwyn,” began John, “you stay here with Talvan and the gear. The rest of us will go downstairs and see if we can get the house lights back up. If it’s an ambush, cover us from the balconies.”
Fernwyn nodded. “Okay.”
John took the lead, and motioned for Aldebaran to fall in behind him. Ray came next, and Richter resumed the last position.
“Nice and easy,” said John.
The four men moved down the stairs to the first level. The music and flashing lights were disorientating, but having seen the layout with the house lights up the men knew where to go. Corpses seemed to move under the strobes, and it was clear that the anxiety level for the humans was high. Aldebaran was focused, but seemed calm. The four reached the dance floor, and John put up his hand. They stopped. John motioned toward the periphery of the room, and the others strained to see what he meant.
There were figures lining the room, quite obviously alive. At first only their eyes were visible, glinting each time a strobe passed by. When a few of them stepped forward, their identities became clear.
“Tenchiik,” whispered Aldebaran.
Steel flashed in the light. Each of the black-clad Kau’Rii were wielding a long, thin blade, reminiscent of a stiletto, but much larger.
“Tight 360,” said Richter.
Each of the humans took up a kneeling position in a cardinal direction. Aldebaran followed their motion rapidly. They backed up until their heels were almost touching.
“Are you the Umberians?” one of the Tenchiik said, his voice raspy but clear.
“What difference does it make?” asked Aldebaran.
“None to you.”
John took a deep breath. He was facing the Techiik who was speaking, and he centered the sights of his rifle on the Kau’Rii’s head.
“Cone of fire and retreat to the stairs,” he said.
“Roger,” replied the others.
With an ear-splitting crack, John’s rifle initiated the chaos. The Tenchiik leapt
into action, moving with blinding speed. The team put down a furious wall of fire, with Richter’s Phalanx dominating the cacophony. When Ray had fired all five rounds from his shotgun, he transitioned to his revolver and began the retreat.
“GO!” he screamed.
The team moved together toward the stairs. From above, Fernwyn had begun firing at targets near and far with her Phalanx, with Talvan soon joining her with his borrowed pistol. John’s M1A ran dry and he knew there was no time to reload. He dropped it to the deck and drew Ari’s Glock.
A Tenchiik took advantage of the moment and lunged toward him. John attempted to dodge to his right, but the creature was too fast for him. The blade sliced through his left thigh with absolutely no resistance or pain. The Tenchiik whirled around for another slash but John kicked out, knocking the assassin away just enough to bring his Glock into play. Three shots to the neck dropped the Tenchiik. John spared a look at his thigh before two more Tenchiik appeared in front of him. The wound had begun to bleed. John continued to back-pedal, firing his pistol.
Richter’s Phalanx finally ran out of rounds, and he smoothly reloaded. Ray was the first to reach the stairs and he bound up them, slapping another clip into his revolver. Aldebaran was next, followed by John. Richter paused at the bottom of the stairs. His cheek was tucked tightly into the stock of his rifle and he was taking out Tenchiik with precise bursts. From above, Fernwyn resumed her helpful efforts. Richter began backing up the stairs when there was a flash. He glanced down and found two of his fingers lying at his feet. The Kau’Rii responsible for this drew back for another blow, and Richter took his head off with the Phalanx. He stumbled up the stairs, taking out two more of the creatures that attempted to follow him.
At the top of the landing, the team was engaging targets. Talvan was sitting in one corner, agape at the growing stain of blood on his stomach. Ray found an opportunity to reload his shotgun and resumed fighting. Aldebaran leaned over the railing and fired several rounds at the DJ station, terminating the music. A single Tenchiik vaulted over the same railing next to him, and it was shot a dozen times by the others.
There was silence.
“Clear right!” yelled John.
“Clear left!” echoed Aldebaran.
“Stairs are clear,” Richter yelped. “I’ve got an injury here.”
The Tarantula Nebula Page 36