Existential

by Ryan W. Aslesen

  Max considered that a fair enough answer. “So, has your research given you any insight on how to destroy these things?”

  “Not much, unfortunately. This creature appears to be very adaptable and resilient. From what I can ascertain, it is highly evolved. Radiometric dating has put the substance that makes up the creature to be over 5 billion years old, but without more advanced equipment and more time to study and observe it, I can’t do much. Samples of the substance were initially sent to the surface for further testing on Greytech’s latest equipment. Apparently, it somehow circumvented our quarantine protocols. Now there are several of them running about, likely manifestations from the original.”

  “Are you saying this thing can reproduce?” Max inquired.

  “I don’t believe it does in the typical sense. From watching the cells I have studied replicate, I believe as the creature absorbs more nutrients, it can grow in mass and regenerate itself.”

  “It metamorphosed in my observation chamber,” Dr. Kumar said. “Data recorded during the transformation was stored on my console’s hard drives, which are now missing. Would you happen to have them, Doctor?”

  “No, I do not, though I would love to dig into that data.”

  “Who could have taken them, if not you? Are there any other survivors on this ship?” Max inquired.

  “Not that I know of, but it’s a very large ship. It’s quite possible there are other survivors.”

  “What all can this thing morph into?”

  “Again, I’m not certain, but potentially almost anything. To my knowledge, it hasn’t taken human form yet, but judging from what I’ve seen, I’m sure it could if it wanted.”

  “Why bother, when it can turn itself into a dinosaur or some other monster?”

  Rogers shrugged. “Camouflage? If it feels threatened, maybe it takes the form of a survivor, maybe it kills you and assumes your identity, Mr. Ahlgren.” She smiled for the first time, sly and vaguely vulpine. “But don’t worry, it could take your form, but it couldn’t take your memories.”

  It wouldn’t want them.

  Max realized the implications of her words. “How do we know you’re not one of them?”

  “Because if even one of these creatures possessed my intelligence, you’d all be dead by now.”

  Point taken. “Wouldn’t doubt it. We need to search the ship for more survivors and locate those hard drives. Apparently, those drives may hold the key to beating these things.”

  “I’ve explored the foredecks extensively and found no one. If there are any survivors, they’re likely deeper in the bowels of the ship. I could guide you there, of course.”

  “Yes,” Max said without hesitation. “We would appreciate that.”

  Dr. Kumar would have none of that. “I think we should stay here, Dr. Rogers. Conduct further research while Mr. Ahlgren’s team moves on. Even without understanding all the characters, the two of us might be able to come up with something.”

  Sugar snorted. “While we dumb around this ship and get wasted, old man? Not happenin’, and you’re coming with us.”

  “Yes, we should all go,” Dr. Rogers agreed. “The creatures will pick off any stragglers they run across. Besides, you’ll need me as a guide. This ship has a byzantine layout, and there are certain areas you should avoid.”

  “Such as?” Max asked.

  “The cargo hold. It was secured before Greytech lost control of the site. Not even the creatures can break through the pods, though they’ve tried hard to do so. Your men have only encountered a small fraction of the substance stored on this ship. Most of the substance is locked up in there; perhaps the creatures feel some sort of familial attraction to it.”

  “Tio Goop y Tia Blob,” Diaz commented.

  Dr. Rogers laughed for the first time, a smile creasing her face. “Funny.”

  “And best kept to himself,” Max reminded him. “Shut up and let the adults handle things, Diaz.”

  “Jesus, perdóname...”

  Max turned back to Dr. Rogers. “So where do we begin our search?”

  “The ship’s bridge is probably our best bet. If I can manipulate the ship’s controls, I may be able to close all the bulk heads and attempt to seal the creatures inside, while still trying to leave us an exit route. It isn’t guaranteed to work, but it may buy us some more time. There’s also an armory on deck R-4 filled with alien weapons. Not sure what the intended use was, but they were there. Greytech kept the place sealed off and strictly off-limits, kept all our resources dedicated to researching the substance. We might be able to figure out how to operate them.”

  Red rubbed his hands together. “I am so on that.”

  Dr. Rogers smiled at Red’s comment. Max couldn’t help being drawn to her. Something about her unflappable demeanor and certainly her beauty put his tortured mind at ease. He’d worked so long for nefarious people in this deadly profession that he rarely trusted anyone any longer. She appeared to have everyone’s best interests at heart, single-mindedly devoted to defeating the creatures. She also seemed to be the only glimmer of hope they had. Max felt it was reason enough to trust in her judgment, for now.

  Gable had other thoughts and couldn’t contain himself any longer. “This is such bullshit, Chief! You want us to go deeper into the ship? She is just trying to get us to do Greytech’s dirty work. We went into the ship, we found one of their key assets. We have done our part. This is their mess, let them handle it. It’s time to bug the fuck out here and go! Get the real military to handle this.”

  “You still don’t get it do you. There is no one else coming. Even when the Greytech cavalry gets here, they won’t be able to stop this. It’s up to us.”

  “That wasn’t our mission.”

  “Our mission has changed.” Max replied.

  Gable spat a plug of chewing tobacco next to his boot. “Oh, it has now!”

  The two men glared at each for a moment, tension and testosterone filling the room.

  “What’s our mission now?” Diaz said breaking the awkward silence.

  Max turned to face the rest of the team. “To survive.”

  The team exchanged nervous glances with one another. Gable shook his head and walked away towards the far side of the room, his face still flush with anger.

  “So, it’s settled, then,” Dr. Rogers said. “Bridge, armory, survivors, hard drives, and then we take care of these creatures.”

  “We are going to find a way to kill these things,” Max vowed. “You have my word on that.”

  “And you have my trust, Mr. Ahlgren.”

  She locked her alluring gaze on Max, her eyes communicating an unreasonable hope, which bordered on a promise that they would get out alive. Against all logic, he wanted to believe that her research and first-hand knowledge of the beasts could somehow salvage this mission. He found the rest of her quite persuasive as well.

  As he could only focus for the moment on Dr. Rogers, Max didn’t catch LT surreptitiously shake his head. Irish rolled his eyes. Dr. Kumar disguised his bark of laughter as a cough. Red’s ear-to-ear smile heralded a barely audible snort of humor. Sugar merely issued a silent sigh as he turned his attention back to the empty hallway. Had his medic uttered his thoughts on Max chasing skirts while on a mission, Max would likely have shot Diaz dead on the spot.

  One of Max’s drill instructors at OCS had been fond of saying, Your authority as an officer ends when laughter begins. He had always kept the maxim in mind, and it had served him well over the course of his career. Yet one sincere utterance from Dr. Alexis Rogers made him forget those words when he most needed to live by them.

  Why did it have to be a beautiful woman? LT asked himself. Had Dr. Rogers been male, everything would have been fine. Max would have grilled him for all the knowledge he possessed; after that, he might consult him for advice and directions, but that would be all.

  Dr. Rogers would not be out in front right now, leading the team.

  LT watched Dr. Rogers stride down the corridor
leading from the Holochamber, no hesitation in her step. She moved with almost carefree ease, seemingly unconcerned about encountering one of the alien terrors roaming the corridors. Dusty words little used since college flashed through LT’s mind, each vying to summarize her nature: dauntless, intrepid, insouciant. LT finally settled on foolhardy.

  And that goes for all of us, except maybe Gable.

  LT would never publicly admit it, but the rube Ranger from Alabama had made a good argument. Had they simply hauled ass out of Base Camp right then and there, some of the team might have survived. Or not. Still better to go down fighting out in the woods than be eviscerated in the halls of a spacecraft—a spacecraft that belongs to the creatures alone. He found it hard to believe that they were aboard a highly advanced alien vessel, forced to engage the creatures on their home turf. He knew from hard experience this was no way to win a war.

  Lack of leadership or worse yet, inept leadership also lost battles. Do we still have a leader? LT sure as hell hoped so. He knew little regarding Max’s CIA employment or the mission he’d botched in the Ukraine. But Georgia hadn’t been his fault, and neither had Mexico. Shit didn’t just happen in this business—at times it rained down from the sky in furious hailstorms. Max had a knack for leading the team into shit storms, but he had proven just as adept at leading them out.

  But this time? LT had seen Max enamored by women before though he seemed to care for them only in the carnal sense. Whether for love or for lust, LT had never seen him influenced by a woman in the field. His confidence in Max’s leadership was slipping, and as the team’s second in command, he might have to choose between his loyalty to his friend and his responsibility to the team. LT decided to back Max for now but keep a close eye on this Dr. Rogers. A lone survivor behind open doors, a straggler as she’d said, seemed a bit too convenient for his taste.

  The team crowded onto the elevator platform they had ridden up in. Never one to suffer from claustrophobia, LT moved to the back wall of the car. Sugar boarded last, and LT felt the brunt of the squeeze as everyone jammed into the enclosed platform. Dr. Rogers selected deck one on the holographic controls. The door slid shut. Blood rushed to LT’s head as the elevator plummeted into the bowels of the ship. The overpowering stink of adrenaline-fueled sweat seemed to fog the air in the car.

  “So, these weapons,” Max asked Dr. Rogers, “what sort of technology do they utilize?”

  “I’m not entirely certain; weapons are not my forte.”

  “Come on,” Red coaxed. “Lasers, plasma, low-frequency sound waves? Gotta be something like that on a spaceship.”

  “I believe there might be weapons along those lines. I didn’t have much time to look at them.”

  LT pressed for more, “Were you being chased at the time?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s a yes-or-no question.”

  “Then yes, Mr. Thompson, I was being pursued at the time.”

  Being several inches shorter than most of the team, LT couldn’t see much through the press of bodies in the car, but Max made sure LT caught his venomous stare. LT averted his gaze, not interested in winning a spiteful staring contest.

  “My apologies, Dr. Rogers,” Max said. “We are all under a lot of stress.” He gazed down upon her with seeming adoration, like some ogre beholden to a benevolent princess.

  LT kept a careful watch on the rest of the team. Irish, who to this point had given Max every benefit of the doubt, now looked worried, lips pursed, eyes troubled and downcast.

  “Don’t sweat the prom queen,” Gable muttered to him.

  LT had no reprimand for him this time.

  The elevator eased to a halt on deck 1. Sugar jumped from the car as the door opened and swept to the left while Max went right. The area judged secure by the time LT exited the car, each corridor covered by a different man. They exited once again in a circular chamber, only this time five narrow hallways converged at the elevator. Adhesive stickers placed by Greytech labeled the tunnels one through five, and a directory of various destinations was posted on the wall. They found the ceiling lower here, only seven feet or so, and the ambient light far dimmer than on the upper levels. Some areas were not lighted at all. Hot air pressed down upon them, soupy with humidity and the noisome stench of rotting flesh that LT knew so well. There had been fighting in this chamber. Splatters of both black residue and red blood blotched the walls and floor by the entrance to tunnel three. A trail of blood continued into the tunnel, which led to the cargo hold, according to the directory.

  “Life’ll get taken here,” Diaz quoted as he took in the environs of the ship’s bowels.

  “Keep it to yourself,” LT muttered back.

  “Corridor five.” Dr. Rogers pointed the way.

  “All right, form up,” Max instructed, voice low. “Dr. Rogers and I will take point; Red, follow us. Everyone else, same order as before.”

  LT stood dumbstruck. Red should be out front with that flamethrower. She can stand behind him and give directions. Others were thinking the same. Even the ever-stolid and reliable Sugar gaped, dubious about that order.

  “Will you fucking say something?” Diaz growled at LT.

  “It’s not my call.”

  “Well, fuck it, somebody has to say it.” Diaz raised his voice and asked, “Shouldn’t Red be out in front with the flamethrower?”

  Max whirled, eyes wide. “The order will be as I say.”

  “Because bullets have been so effective on these things, right?”

  “Because I am the leader of this expedition, that’s why. Now get your ass in the rear where you belong.”

  “At least I tried,” Diaz muttered. “More than you can claim, LT.”

  You fucking asshole. How could Diaz have dimed him out like that? You’ll pay for that one, Diaz.

  Max fixed on LT before he could respond to Diaz. “Do you have a problem with my decision?”

  “I think Red should be out front.”

  “So do I,” Red added. “Fire kills everything, at least in the movies. Besides, if she gets offed, we are fucked. How are we going to find our way out of here? No offense, Dr. Rogers.”

  Dr. Rogers raised her hand for quiet. “I understand your concern, but there are reasons I should be out in front.”

  “Yeah, why?” Gable demanded.

  “The creatures aren’t the only danger in this vessel. You’ll have to trust me.”

  “I’m already tired of trusting you.”

  “Well, you know your options,” Max said, weary of the debate.

  “There ain’t any options at this point.”

  “Then shut up and try to stay alive. You don’t want to be my next buddy in a bag, remember? Now form it up and let’s get moving.”

  LT took his place in the order as they moved into the tenebrous confines of corridor five. She’s moving too fast. Behind him, he could hear Dr. Kumar panting as he plodded along. The heat, humidity, stench, and a constant high-pitched humming noise served to keep everyone testy. The whining soon took physical form in a vibration LT could feel through the soles of his boots. The floor constantly changed from a solid material into grating that covered access tunnels beneath the floor as well as deeper areas that dropped into pure blackness. Piping and conduit ran seamlessly over the ceiling down here—the ship’s power plant, LT assumed.

  The team traversed several intersections in their first few minutes of travel and passed dozens of doors secured with the alien handprint readers. Dr. Rogers called a halt about ten minutes into their journey. The lights in the corridor died up ahead, and she stood at the edge of blackness before a holographic image on the wall. Hot air blasted into the hallway like a stiff desert wind, abating the humidity if nothing else. LT and Gable tried to see around Red to what lay ahead.

  “What the hell’s she doin’?” Gable asked.

  “Damned if I know,” LT replied.

  Max peered over her shoulder as she touched prompts on the hologram. LT considered their proxi
mity inappropriately close, even in such tight quarters.

  “Shit, we’re followed,” Sugar called from behind.

  LT whirled around but could see nothing to the rear past the survivors.

  Irish pushed Ms. Harlow out of the way as he headed for the rear, slamming her into the wall a bit hard. “Sorry.”

  LT followed on his heels. Sugar lay in the prone position ready to wreak havoc with his machine gun. Irish and Diaz fell in behind him and took kneeling positions with their rifles. LT remained standing as he swept the dark hallway with the reflex sight on his rifle. He saw nothing moving; neither did the others.

  “Where the hell is it?” Irish asked.

  Sugar pointed. “It was there, maybe fifty, sixty yards behind.”

  LT didn’t doubt it, but there was nothing to see now. He sensed rather than saw Max come up behind him.

  “Status?” Max asked.

  “Sugar spotted a creature about fifty yards down.”

  Max craned his neck and peered down the hallway. Everyone remained silent for several seconds as they tried to spot the beast. “I’m not seeing it, Sugar.”

  “Me either, but I know it was there.”

  Max nodded. “Not surprising. Irish, stay back here with Sugar and Diaz. Hit the fucker with the grenade launcher if it makes another appearance.”

  “Roger that,” Irish said.

  As they headed back to the front LT asked Max, “What’s the word up there, Chief?”

  “We’re at some sort of drawbridge that’s been retracted by someone or something. This is the only way to the R decks, so Dr. Rogers is working on it.”

  What the hell does she know about those holograms? Something about her ate at LT’s intuition. For someone who’d devoted all her time to studying the substance and the creatures that formed from it, she seemed to know a hell of a lot about how the ship operated. Brilliant for sure, but...