by Caryn Lix
“I don’t know. The aliens weren’t exactly looking for ways to stop it.”
“We can’t let them . . .” He swallowed hard. “Okay. First step: let’s get them off the walls and clean them up. Maybe that’ll arrest the procedure.”
I hesitated. Cage read my reluctance, and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Kenzie, I’m not leaving them here.”
“I’m not saying that,” I shot back, irritation swelling in my gut. I pushed it down, forcing my voice calm. I was the one who’d just lost her mother. Why was it also my responsibility to be the one thinking straight? “But it’s going to take us hours to accomplish that—hours in which the creatures on Sanctuary could get to your sister.”
Cage winced, guilt instantly suffusing his face. Obviously, he’d forgotten Rune entirely. I understood—confronted as he was with something like the horror in the other room, who could blame him for a second of distraction? But I didn’t think he’d thank me for saying so, and I pressed on. “We need to get everyone off Sanctuary.”
“Off Sanctuary?” He arched an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”
I struggled to remain calm. This was a chance, nothing more. A glimmer of a sliver of a hope to survive. But it was more than we’d had a few minutes ago. And somehow I felt like if I managed to save the others, well . . . it might give some meaning to Mom’s death. To Rita’s death. At any rate, it would give me purpose.
“Kenzie?” asked Cage.
Oxygen, check. Water, ditto. We could bring supplies from Sanctuary. “Cage,” I said. “What if we came here?”
“What?”
“Instead of destroying this ship, what if we . . . take it over? If all the aliens are asleep, if we get everyone in XE suits and bring them here . . .” Could we survive this disaster after all?
A spark of optimism lit his face, then instantly disappeared under his normal cocky mask. “It’s possible,” he allowed. “We could get off Sanctuary, destroy it—with the aliens inside—and find a way to communicate with Earth. Preferably from a distance so we don’t all immediately get arrested.”
“Between me and Rune, we can operate this ship. I know we can.”
He frowned. “Are we really doing this?”
“I think so. Even if something goes wrong, well, we can’t survive on Sanctuary much longer. It’s not much of a chance, but it’s something, isn’t it?”
“It’s something. Better than anything else we’ve come up with.” I could almost see him planning and scheming, his eyes dancing in the light. I was starting to get why Cage had been the one to lead the prison break. It wasn’t just his charisma, the way people followed him. He couldn’t stop planning.
Then he grabbed me and gave me a quick kiss, and I stopped thinking at all. “You’re a genius. You know that?”
I half smiled in spite of myself, my cheeks growing hot in the darkness. “But that means we need to get back to Sanctuary as soon as possible.”
“Then we’d better get started.”
* * *
A few more minutes spent with the ship’s consoles yielded a ton of data. The creatures we’d passed were all in a state of suspended animation. They traveled this way. The mission commanders awakened to conduct the harvest, waking others as necessary. Once they completed the mission, all the creatures on the ship rose to tend the newborn aliens, and then they were on their way to wherever they went next—I had trouble gleaning that information.
In the short term, we were pretty safe on the alien ship. I didn’t think the creatures woke without outside intervention. And I remained almost certain I could pilot this ship with Rune’s help. The computer system didn’t work the same as human technology; the AI instantly tried to forge what seemed like a psychic bond with me. Fighting it reminded me of battling Tyler’s intrusion into my brain, a memory that still set my teeth rattling. But in this case, the intrusion was beneficial, making it a matter of thought to direct the ship. I’d need practice, but the ship didn’t seem to care about my human brain. It simply wanted to forge its bond.
And if I was wrong, well, we probably wouldn’t survive long enough to find out. Or at least I wouldn’t, because Mia would strangle the life out of me.
There was only one flaw in our plan: Imani. We couldn’t take her to Sanctuary with us—we didn’t have a spare XE suit, and frankly, she was probably safer here. But I didn’t want her waking up alone and terrified, thinking we abandoned her.
We rejoined her, hoping to wake her long enough to explain things. We drew up short when we found her sitting against the wall, her breathing regular and normal. I angled the light at her face and she blinked, shielding her eyes. They remained coated in cataracts, but hints of dark irises peered out from beneath. And her nails had retracted several centimeters. I breathed a sigh of relief. Imani, at least, would be fine.
To my surprise, she didn’t complain about staying on the ship by herself. She only had one request: that we leave her the light and the backup screwdriver. “I’ll make a start on cutting everyone down,” she said. “As soon as I can see again. I’m halfway there already.”
Cage gave her a crash course in opening the cuffs, using Aliya as his example, and she nodded, her face a mask of determination.
We still needed a way to transport the prisoners to the alien ship, though. “Do you remember how the creatures brought you here?” I asked Imani.
She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything between the prison and the slime pit.”
I nodded, my mind racing. “As for the aliens themselves,” I said, “I think—I’m not sure, but I think they can survive for a limited time in space. Don’t ask me what I’m basing that on. The absence of XE suits and shuttles, maybe, or the way they tore into sector four.”
“Well, that sucks,” Cage replied grimly. “So what do we do? Take turns with the XE suits? Lead the prisoners over here one at a time?”
“There are more suits,” I said, “but they’re in the shuttle bay. If we get in there, we can take more people. One at a time won’t work. We’ll run out of air, and that’s if the creatures don’t guess what we’re doing. With more suits, we can evacuate in groups. It should buy us enough time to get across.”
“Then we have a plan: get back to Sanctuary, collect the XE suits, grab everyone else, and evacuate.”
“Fantastic.” This plan sucked. “I don’t suppose any of them have zero g experience?”
“Rune does, but she’s not great. I can’t say for the others. I’d guess not many.”
“Awesome.” I rubbed my forehead. Neither of us mentioned the obvious—what exactly to do with the hundred slumbering aliens on the ship. If we managed to escape, we sure didn’t want them waking and attacking us. Three was bad enough; ten would obliterate us in seconds. But what could we do? Pry open each chamber and stab them as they slept?
We’d cross that bridge when we came to it. “All right. Let’s get moving.”
Unbidden, my head turned toward where I’d left my mother’s body. I wanted so badly to go back, say one last good-bye—but she was beyond caring, and the prisoners on Sanctuary weren’t. If we managed to pull this off, I’d have plenty of time to mourn. Until then, I was going to have to be Mecha Dream Girl and set my feelings aside, become an emotionless machine capable of feats I’d never imagine doing under normal circumstances.
I passed Imani the screwdriver and the light. This left us to find the airlock in the dark. No big deal, right? It was more or less a straight shot, and Cage had already done it once. We locked hands and stayed within a step of one another, advancing into the shadows.
But every second, I expected a hiss or a growl or one of those god-awful screams that meant the creatures had woken and found us. The worst moment came in the second-to-last chamber. We’d found the previous exits by feeling along the walls until we hit the knobs, but we missed this one. We spent at least fifteen minutes groping along in the dark, all too aware of the slumbering creatures nearby. When at last I found a knob, I almost
sobbed in relief. We fumbled with it until it popped open. I released Cage, staggered to my XE suit, and stabbed my helmet light to life.
Illumination obliterated the darkness, and my hands trembled on the helmet. “Let’s not do that again,” I suggested.
Cage laughed, although he too sounded strained. “No. Add a step to our plan: find more light.”
We suited up and brought our displays to life. Returning to Sanctuary cost a bit of thruster fuel, but it wasn’t enough to worry me. We still had plenty left to get us and our companions to the ship. Matt released the airlock from the command center, and we waited the agonizing few minutes while it repressurized. We slid out of our suits, opting to leave them and return later rather than having to drag them along with us. “Matt,” I said into my comm unit as we left the airlock, “tell Rune to get everyone ready to leave the station.”
His reply almost shattered my eardrum. “What? And go where?”
“I’ll explain when we’re all together. Just get them ready. Anya’s too small to fit any of the suits properly. We can make it work but . . .”
When we emerged into the corridor, I cast a quick glance in both directions, making sure the coast was clear before setting off at a near jog, barking orders into my comm as forcefully as possible without raising my voice above a whisper. “. . . we’ll need to move quickly. Is everyone safe?”
Mercifully, Matt seemed to have bowed to my authority. “Yeah, they were all ready and waiting. Should I rejoin them?”
“Yes. Call me once you’re there, okay?”
“Got it.”
Matt signed off, and I turned to Cage. “We’re good to go. Let’s find your sister and get out of here.”
He nodded, relief clear in his expression. “I can’t say I’m sorry to—”
The claw shot out of nowhere, piercing Cage’s back.
For a second that felt like an eternity, we both stared at the claw sticking out of his chest. Then one of the aliens hoisted him in the air and whipped him violently across the hall, its reptilian features creased in something like a snarl. Cage skidded across the floor and collided with the wall, landing limp in a puddle of blood.
The creature turned to me and hissed. I twirled, just as another blocked the hall, its fangs bared, saliva dripping to pool on the ground.
Trapped.
THIRTY-ONE
WITH NO OTHER OPTIONS, I reverted to standard scared animal behavior: I froze in place and stood stock-still.
Luckily for me, I also swallowed my whimper of terror. The creatures twitched, sniffing the air. Even though I hadn’t made a sound, they seemed to know I was there.
My gaze traveled to Cage’s limp form. I couldn’t see his face, but the extent of the damage on his back was staggering: two jagged claw marks oozing a mess of blood, fusing his shirt to his body. I couldn’t tell if his chest was rising and falling.
And I couldn’t leave him here. Which meant I not only had to evade these creatures—I had to get rid of them altogether. Then came the simple task of dragging a hundred-and-seventy-pound boy to safety. My fingers drifted to the pistol at my belt.
One of the creatures screamed its piercing howl, and a third alien dropped through the ceiling, landing with a clatter of claws. I clamped my jaw and refused to let a sound escape. I also released the pistol. It didn’t matter how good a shot I was—and marksmanship was not my best subject. I’d never hit all three of them before they gored me.
There had to be another way out of this.
One creature skittered forward, sweeping its tail behind, jerking its head in either direction.
The second followed suit. Almost across the hall from me, the third took a careful step, closing the triangle, fencing me in.
I shifted toward the airlock. I wasn’t sure what I had in mind. By the time the door opened, the creatures would have ripped me to shreds. Besides, it would make a god-awful racket opening, and it was slow—too slow, given how fast these things moved. But I could hardly stand in the corridor waiting for them to attack.
I reached the wall and sidled toward the control panel. The aliens continued to advance, pausing between steps, their clawed arms snapping at the air and their heads tilted for any sound, any suspicious movement. If the corridor hadn’t been so narrow, I might have ducked beneath them . . . but those sweeping tails covered four feet with every swish. No escape. I’d have to come up with something else.
And I would come up with something else. There was no way in hell I’d made it this far—through Mom’s death, discovering my own chip, jetting through space to explore an alien ship—only to die in the halls of Sanctuary because I couldn’t find a way past three alien creatures entirely dependent on sound to find me.
Sound . . . Could it be that simple? I fumbled for something, anything, to throw. The gold band on my right index finger brushed my palm—a simple gold affair with daughter inscribed inside, a sixteenth-birthday gift from my parents. I hesitated, but in this instance, I thought they would approve. I pried the ring off my finger and tossed it over the shoulder of the far alien.
It clinked softly in the hall. All three creatures froze, then pivoted in that direction. I waited with bated breath and, apparently, so did they, listening for any repeat of the sound.
None came.
And they resumed their march toward me.
I made a face. Well, it always worked for the robo mechs. Time for Plan B. Fall down seven times . . .
My back brushed against the inner airlock door—the loudest, slowest door on the entire station aside from the shuttle doors and the outer airlock itself. Nonetheless, I pressed my thumb to the control panel. It leaped to life with a series of whirrs and beeps. The creatures stiffened. One shrieked.
The airlock door unsealed itself with a hiss and began the slow, laborious process of sliding open.
The aliens charged.
I leaped, diving beneath a creature’s outstretched claws and over its tail, landing heavily on the ground behind it. One of them pivoted in my direction, hesitating, but the continued draw of the opening door reclaimed its attention. The aliens lunged inside.
I threw myself at the control panel and aborted the procedure halfway through opening. The door changed tracks and began sliding shut. Inside, the aliens paid no heed to the slight change in sound, screeching to one another as they tore through the airlock. The door sealed behind them, and I allowed a small smile of satisfaction to touch my face.
“Matt,” I said into my comm unit, “are you in the command center?”
“No, I’m halfway to the prison.”
I swore loudly.
“I’m still in contact with the computer,” Rune’s voice cut in. “I can do almost anything from here. What’s up, Kenz?”
“Blow the primary airlock.”
She hesitated. “But . . . why?”
Through the airlock window, the creatures faced me, sheer malevolence twisting their features as they recognized the ruse. “I don’t have time to explain. Just blow the damn airlock!”
“Emergency depressurization initiated ,” chimed in Sanctuary’s voice. Rune, you’re amazing. The creatures twisted, their heads perking at the sound. Whether or not they understood the words, they obviously recognized trouble, because they screeched to one another. They swung around the room, frantically searching for something—I didn’t know what and hoped I wouldn’t find out.
Both outer airlock doors gave way. Within seconds, everything in the room not bolted down—tools, storage kits, and the three aliens—whipped into space, vanishing from sight.
Unfortunately, that included our two XE suits. But better them than me. “So long, suckers,” I murmured, and reactivated my comm. “Good work, Rune. Matt, detour to my location. Rune can direct you.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Kenzie, what’s going on?”
I hesitated, not sure how much to tell her. “Cage is hurt,” I settled on at last, praying it wasn’t worse. As I spoke, I bolted to his side, then rolled hi
m over and examined him for signs of life. “I need Matt’s help.”
Rune replied in Mandarin, a rush of terrified cursing. I muted her so as not to distract myself and bent over Cage. He was breathing but unconscious, the claws having gored all the way through his body. “You are not going to die on me,” I snarled at him. “Do you understand?”
He didn’t reply. I took his silence as agreement.
I shot to my feet and raced to the airlock door, then stabbed at the control panel. The room had resealed itself, but from this angle, I couldn’t see if the emergency med kit remained on the wall. I waited an impatient thirty seconds for the room to pressurize, then entered. Luck held for once: the kit was still in place, tightly sealed. I broke the hinges to get it down and dragged it into the hall.
There wasn’t much to work with in the med kit, but I cleaned and bandaged his wound, my hand surprisingly steady in spite of the pooling blood. Matt showed up when I was halfway done and plunked himself beside me without a word. He held bandages out of the way and lifted Cage so I could wrap the wound more tightly. “You think he’ll be okay?” I asked when I was finished.
Matt shrugged. “I feel his life as strongly as I feel yours, if that means anything. I’m not sure it does.”
I glared at him. “We need to get him to the prison. Grab his arm.” Before helping Matt, I darted down the corridor and retrieved my ring. A sense of peace settled over me after I slipped it onto my finger. I’d worn it every day for a year and a half, and being without it felt as strange as being without my wrist comm. Besides, it was the only thing I had remaining of Mom.
We hoisted Cage, propping him upright between us, and I tore the stun gun free from his holster and held it out to Matt. He hesitated, but I pressed it on him. “Cage isn’t going to be able to use this if an alien comes back. You can.” You can, I repeated silently, my gaze locked on his.
After a moment, he nodded, accepting the stun gun. He tucked it into his waistband—gingerly, like he was afraid it might go off any minute. Before I could start second-guessing my decision, he tugged on Cage’s arm and got us moving. “Please tell me you have a plan,” he grunted.