by Mark Tufo
“Well isn’t this going to be fun,” I whispered in Chaplin’s ear. I was inches from those meat-tearing teeth and I was about the size of a piece of beef jerky to him. Sometimes I have all the brainpower of a hamster. No, that’s not fair. Hamsters don’t mess with the things that want to eat them.
We quietly left the closet. As Chaplin was hauling ass down the hallway, my teeth were slamming into each other from the violent shaking. “Fuck man, I feel like a backpack.”
Chaplin growled, I think to shut me up.
We traveled a little further in this bone-jarring manner until Doc, Stirrix and Chaplin stopped to talk. Wherever we were going or whatever was about to happen was soon. Chaplin was making motions like he wanted to pluck me off his back, as if I was a leech that had latched on to him. Stirrix, I believe, was telling him no and sternly. It was tough to tell the hierarchy among them but I think Stirrix was a little higher up the ladder as I ended up staying put, for better or worse.
Some things translate well from Geno to human without ever being said. We were going into battle. Doc and Stirrix both checked their weapons. Chaplin was putting on a brave front but I could feel his muscles bunching. I almost started liking Chaplin because I thought he maybe wanted to put me down and tuck me away safe. Then it dawned on me he probably didn’t want me there because he thought I’d get in the way. Maybe that’s how I’d feel as well. If as a person I’d joined an alliance with a being the size of a garden gnome…that’s close enough to the size discrepancy.
I pulled my rifle off my back and slid it over Chaplin’s shoulder and then moved the myriad of material I was under so that I could see clearly. I may or may not have received a grunt of satisfaction from him. This wasn’t going to be easy for either of us. He had his elbows close to his body and holding on to my legs, so he had limited mobility with his rifle. I had one arm partially wrapped around his neck and with the other I was aiming. Luckily there was nearly no recoil on the weapon or I’d end up with the back of my head smashing into Chaplin’s ass every time I fired, and I can guarantee he would not be a fan of that.
Doc went to a door. There were no codes required so it slid open easily enough. I knew what it was immediately—a mess hall. It wasn’t overly large, forty feet by thirty feet at the most. I think the one at my high school was bigger. It was quite possible this was one of many but that didn’t matter right now. What did matter were the dozen or so Mutes standing guard over fifty to sixty Genos. Two disemboweled Genos lay on the floor unmoving, a third recently gut shot and writhing in pain. The Mutes attention was adhered to the suffering mass on the ground. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.
Doc brought his rifle up and was about to fire. I beat him to the punch, sending blue bolts of death towards the Mutes. My first shot caught the closest Mute right under his helmet, blowing the protective gear along with a significant portion of his skull to the ground where the rest of him immediately followed. Chaplin grunted again. I think he liked my marksmanship. Doc and Stirrix were now firing, but things were beginning to get interesting as the Mutes regrouped. I tapped Chaplin on the shoulder. When he looked at me I pointed down with my index finger and mouthed the word “down” (like that was going to help).
He got the idea though. My feet had touched down just as Doc took a lethal blow. Stirrix was like a demon possessed, firing and screaming and advancing. I was giving him as much firepower cover as I could manage. Chaplin started to fire but it was clear that he’d never held a rifle before. He was as much a threat to the Geno prisoners as he was to the Mutes. Stirrix must have stirred something within the subdued Genos because a fair number of them launched at their guards. I was appreciative of the help, I really was, but now it made it impossible for us to continue shooting at the Mutes. We’d taken out three by the time the other Genos had gotten involved and I’d gone over to Doc to see if there was anything I could do. I couldn’t shoot and I sure as hell wasn’t going to get in the middle of the scrum that was now going on.
Blood had trickled out of Doc’s mouth. Without a beating heart it wasn’t moving any more. His eyes were glazed over, his face relatively serene. Not the normal mask of pain I associate with the rifle blast. There were a few more rounds fired but soon the sound of snapping bones and grunts began to dominate. I looked up over a table. The last of the Mutes were being dealt with. Two Genos were each holding him up by an arm as a third shoved some sort of skewer through its chest. Still it nearly had the power to pull away from its captives. The third Geno just kept pulling the long strip of metal out of its chest and plunging it back in until the Mute finally stopped struggling. The Genos let him fall unceremoniously to the floor.
Chapter Ten - Mike Journal Entry 06
When it was over, sixteen Genos including the original three that were gutted plus Doc lay dead or dying. Four more were injured, one seriously as the lower portion of its arm was shot off. All thirteen of the mute guards were dead. “Well, it’s a start I suppose,” I said arising from my hidden spot. I nearly got my head shot off for my trouble.
Stirrix held up his arm to halt any further aggression. It was then I learned Stirrix was not a “he” as a small Geno ran towards her and began to shout “hubardtar”. I’d heard enough of the Genos die in combat to know they were crying for their moms when they were wounded. Again, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, the similarities in our two species were striking. I’d thought Stirrix was a little smaller than Doc or Chaplin but I didn’t want to say anything. Sometimes short men have issues with that.
There was a lot of commotion as the Genos were trying to figure out what I was. None of them knew the species of the planet they were heading to. Dee had told me for the most part, the Genos on board here were servants. They cleaned and cooked or were mechanics, basically the support staff for the Devastators and the Progerians. This was not set up like the Guardian had been, where there were millions of Geno troops and the Mutes were only used as internal guards. The Cruiser itself was the weapon. For all the power the Guardian possessed it was a support ship for the Battle Cruiser and the soon to be coming Destroyers.
The scout ships, which the Progerians had three of, well, two now, were sent out on missions that could span generations as basically its own sovereign country. This was why a Supreme Commander was chosen to rule over the voyage. Once a habitable, albeit populated planet was located, it then became the mission of the Scout to send back coordinates and then set up a defensive perimeter around the planet, kind of like pre-flag planting protection. When the Cruisers and the Destroyers were in place and had rained down all the fury they could muster, it became the job of the Scout to send fighters and foot soldiers down to mop up for the coming colonists housed on the Destroyers.
As big as the Guardian was, the Destroyers dwarfed it. According to Iserwan, the difference was like a jet fighter to a Commercial airliner. It was difficult to fathom something quite that big. But it made sense because it was full of colonists and supplies for them, plus enough armament to tear asunder a planet or three. We had been on the losing side of battle with a Cruiser. How we ever thought we’d be able to take on a Destroyer still eluded me.
After I’d received my fair share of poking, prodding and hair ruffling, Stirrix decided it was time to go. Again, I had no clue but it looked like whatever she had in mind closely mirrored my own agenda. Chaplin decided he liked me on his back. He picked me up like a loaf of bread and placed me on his back. He grunted—this came as no great surprise. I was somewhere in the middle of the group as we headed for the doorway with Stirrix and her child next to us. I don’t know who the poor bastard in the lead was, but he’d no sooner stepped through the door than he was shredded by gunfire. The parts of him still remaining were hurtled back into the quickly retreating group behind him. Three more fell before the door could shut.
I was going to ask if there was another way out, but Stirrix shouted out some commands and then began running toward a door on the far side. Some Genos push
ed over tables and set up a defensive perimeter while still others followed us through the other door and into the galley, which was surprisingly hygienic looking considering the monsters that were baking in there. There was another door that led out to the corridors, but it was already opening and Mutes were contemplating coming through until I gave them a reason to reconsider. Chaplin grunted. I think we were officially besties now.
Stirrix once again spoke animatedly as she looked around. I knew that look. She didn’t know what to do. We were effectively trapped. I did the down gesture to Chaplin who complied immediately. I knew where I wanted to go—a control panel over by what looked like some sort of meat storage box. I really didn’t want to know what kind, it’d have to suffice that it most likely wasn’t of human origin.
There was some shooting from the mess hall but it was a quick burst. It appeared the Mutes were looking for a soft spot to come in. I placed my hand over the intercom, which glowed softly. My voice came from overhead and throughout the entire ship.
“Hey, Dee.”
“Michael, it is good to hear your voice. I was concerned for you.”
“Your concern is well founded.”
Dee paused.
“It’s a good thing you can’t smell me now, buddy. I think you’d get a little more than you bargained for.”
There was a long pause before he spoke. I could sense the tension in his voice. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Yeah. Get on the horn with Paul and have him pull the plug on the whole thing.”
“Michael, you know that I do not yet understand all of you colloquialisms. Could you please say that again in American English.”
“Grammar Nazis everywhere you go,” I said to Chaplin, who grunted like he understood.
“Tell Paul to blow the bridge to hell and back. I’m pretty pinned down where I am. I have some new friends. One is kind of cute—you might like her.”
“I do not believe if Paul blows the ship up that I will have the opportunity.”
“Well, that’s probably for the best. She’s got some baggage anyway. And to be honest I’m not sure if she’s single, it’s not like you guys wear rings or anything.”
Stirrix spoke over my shoulder to Dee. I thought it was particularly rude but I refrained from calling her out. I’m smart like that.
“Stirrix agrees with your assessment,” Dee said to me once they were finished.
“And if she hadn’t?”
“Well, you are in the kitchen. I suppose she could have baked you into a nice frittata.”
“Fuck you, Dee. Call Paul, say your prayers and I’ll see you on the other side. Wait…do they let different species intermingle in the afterlife?”
“I will call Paul and ignore the rest.”
There were no more shots while I waited for a response. It seemed the Mutes were content to keep us bottled up for now. Oh, I’d imagine they were asking the higher ups if it would be possible to use some explosives. This might have been the only time I was happy we were in space. No commander in his right mind is going to risk a hull breech. So that meant we probably had a few more minutes before the Progerians acquiesced.
The intercom came back to life just before Dee spoke. “I have spoken to the General.”
“And?” I prodded.
“He is not of the same mind.”
“Well, he’s not here now is he?” I was hot. “Maybe if he got his ass over here he’d feel a little differently!”
“Michael, I have seen this from his view point. This ship is a valuable asset and you are also asking him to kill his best friend. Neither are enviable choices.”
“Dee, I get it but the alternative is that the Progs get control of this ship back and destroy the Guardian and then Earth. That’s not even including the innocent Genos that the Mutes are taking out.”
“Regardless, he will not fire on this ship until it is absolutely necessary.”
“It might be too late at that point. Dee, okay, you remember that neat little trick you did with a rifle?”
“I do not like the topic of this discussion.”
“Would you be able to walk me through that?”
“I believe you house enough intelligence to be able to replicate my commands.”
“Either great sarcasm or one hell of a back-handed compliment. Nice. Now let’s get to work.”
“This will cause extensive damage to lives and material.”
“Well that would kind of be the point, don’t you think? Buddy, I hope we meet up again. Do you think they have chess in Heaven?”
“If my Cravaratar should once again see you, I would rejoice, but Heaven, Michael, is the end of all suffering, so I would imagine chess would not be there for you.”
“Dee, you need to take your show on the road. All right, let’s get to work.”
It took a little longer than I’d expected, Dee was impressed that a hairless ape was able to perform the task at all, so there’s that. A low whine came from the rifle, which was beginning to pick up in intensity. I held it as far from my body as I could as if that was going to do a damn thing.
Stirrix was looking at me strangely. She did not know what I was doing, at least until she spoke to Dee. After that the look of concern came across her features. She grabbed my arm and was about to pull me away.
“Dee, what the hell is your girlfriend doing?”
“She is not my girlfriend, we do not have courtship on our world like you do. We procreate and if our mating is pleasing we will stay together through a season before parting.”
“Dee, man, she’s stronger than I am!”
There was quick chattering between them.
“She wishes for you to throw the explosive at the Devastators.”
“Well, that was the plan. How much time do I have left?”
“From the vibration soundings of the rifle I would say seventeen seconds plus or minus three seconds.”
“You do know what happens if I’m on the minus side of that, right?”
“I cannot give you any more accurate reading than that. My suggestion would be to toss it NOW.”
The time for banter was done. I was so scared I thought my asshole was going to swallow me whole. Strange, but that was what I was thinking. My hands were dripping puddles of sweat. The Genos quickly got out of my way as I ran across the hall. Looking back it probably would have been a lot wiser to go to the galley entry since it was much closer. That’s how scared I was. I couldn’t even think straight. The thought of being blown into bite-sized chunks was having that effect on me.
The only thing that saved my life as the door opened was my height. At least two red bolts streaked by my head. There was a good chance I’d received a Mohawk haircut. I turned to the side and planted my feet, swiveling as quickly as I could to get as much arc on the rifle as possible once I released it. It all happened incredibly fast from this point forward, although it felt like it took the span of a lifetime to do so.
I watched in high definition as the rifle reached its apex. The Devastators barely noted its presence as they sought a target to release their anger on. I swear I saw the beginnings of a blue explosion no bigger than the head of a pencil. I was then tugged from behind like those pulley systems they rig on stunt men in Hollywood when a shotgun (or an explosion in this case) is blowing them back. I lucked out, though. It was actually Stirrix who had grabbed me and pulled me to the side. The door was about midway shut when we all felt the concussion. At this point I didn’t need Stirrix to send my body sprawling. For ten feet I was Superman, well more like the Orville Wright of super heroes. I was off the ground but not for long. I smacked the floor face first, my nose exploding in a spray of red. I’d busted the damn thing again, at that particular moment I couldn’t have cared less. My ears hurt worse, and if the trickle of blood going down my cheeks was any indication, I’d just shattered both of my eardrums.
The ringing in my ears was so intense it was disorientating. I turned over just in time to pull
in a large chunk of smoke and debris into my lungs. Genos were lying all around me, some sitting up, others would never do so again. The door was twisted and hanging askew of its normal location. I struggled to get my wits back. I needed my rifle although at this point I had no idea why. I was like a boxer who had been knocked down and nearly out. I knew I needed to get up and that was my sole mission in life. I just couldn’t figure out what for. Stirrix was laying on the ground, her back to me. I couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead. The life I still possessed was due to her sacrifice, I could only hope I didn’t waste it.
By degrees my surroundings began to come back, although not my hearing. It was like I had the world’s largest tuning fork shoved in my ear and some asshole kept smacking it with a hammer. Probably Durgan. I crawled over and grabbed a rifle. It felt good in my hands—I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it yet but the composite material still felt good.
I rolled over onto my back and I laid the rifle on my stomach, it was pointed toward the door. Nothing was coming through, not yet at least. We’d had the twelve-inch thick door to protect us and we’d still suffered some damage. Whoever was on the other side was now facing judgment or reveling with their virgins or divining the secrets of the universe. Could the Mutes even conceive of an after-life? Then I decided I didn’t give a shit. I sat up, my head simultaneously as light as a feather and as heavy as a piece of granite. When it wasn’t trying to float off my shoulders it was trying to slam into my chest.
There was movement to my right. Stirrix was also sitting up and holding her head. Hands grabbed me from behind. Chaplin was helping me to my feet. I couldn’t hear him but I felt the breath of a grunt pass by my neck as I got wobbly to my feet. He then moved over to Stirrix and helped her up. She in turn checked on those fortunate enough to make it through this round. What lay ahead, none of us knew. It had seemed like hours since the explosion, but it was more like seconds. And we had no time to spare, the Mutes would either try to gain entry through the galley or come to the explosion. Neither was a good alternative.