by Jake Bible
He opened fire.
The plasma bolts tore into the mad group, ripping off limbs, opening bellies, decimating heads. Cadets fell to the floor, some screaming in pain, some long past that mortal affliction. North took careful, slow steps towards the group, making sure every shot he fired counted. All of the cadets fell, except for one.
Then North’s scorcher clicked empty.
“Shit,” he swore as he tossed it aside and pulled the other scorcher from his back.
The last cadet, the woman with the knife, grinned at him, showing blood red teeth flecked with human flesh. She raised her arm and threw the knife before North could get the scorcher up in time. The blade hit North’s hand, knocking the scorcher aside, giving the woman time to close the distance between the two.
“Fucking traitor,” the woman said as she swung a fist at North’s head.
He dropped to a knee, grabbed up the knife that had slashed his hand, and jammed the blade into the woman’s belly. He stood quickly and lifted the blade up, slicing the woman open from her navel to her sternum. Intestines and organs spilled out over his hand, but he ignored the disgusting mess as he grabbed the woman by the back of the head with his other hand, pressing her face to his.
“This is my station,” North growled low. “Nobody calls me a fucking traitor on my station.”
The woman coughed blood in North’s face then her body went slack. North pulled his hands free and let her corpse collapse on top of the other dead cadets. He glanced down at the dead rookies, shaking his head at the pointless loss of life. A noise to his right made him turn and he saw another dozen cadets staring at him from the hatch to the simulation bay.
“You want to die too?” North asked.
The cadets roared and came at him, but he already had a pistol in his hand and ready. He fired off twelve shots, dropping each recruit with a hole in the head. North didn’t bother looking at or thinking about those kills. He reloaded the pistol and held it to his side as he took off down the corridor, a steady stream of blood pouring from the wound in his hand.
North quickly realized he couldn’t engage every group of cadets or guards that he stumbled upon and had ended up hiding and backtracking for most of his journey through the insane station.
Perpetuity had become Bedlam and the inmates were in charge. North passed a corridor and witnessed acts of pure evil he hadn’t ever seen in combat. Cadet defiling cadet, guards defiling cadets, all laughing and screaming as they killed, raped, and ate one another.
North had to disengage, compartmentalize the horrors. He had a mission to complete, although he could not quite say what that mission was. Life for him on the Perpetuity became one step at a time, one corridor at a time, one blind corner at a time. Movement by movement as he made his way to the server tower, his mental armor thickening with each meter of ground he covered.
Then he was there. The main hatch to the server tower lift was right in front of him. He reached out and placed his wrist to the panel, but the hatch did not open.
“Unauthorized personnel,” a voice rang out from a speaker above his head. “Unauthorized personnel detected. Security please report. Security please report. Unauthori—”
The voice stooped as North fired his pistol up into the speaker. Bits of metal and plastic rained down on him. He shook the debris from his face then looked at the panel by the hatch. That too was quickly obliterated as he turned his pistol on it and fired. Yet the hatch did not automatically open.
“Fuck,” North said as he yanked at the panel and got the plate free.
He reached inside and started to pull at anything he could grab a hold of. He worked at it for a minute before he heard the hatch move.
“Perfect,” he said as he pulled his hand from the panel and reached for the hatch.
The hatch came flying open and slammed into his chest, sending him stumbling back. North kept his footing and raised his pistol, waiting for the next attack, but no one came out of the hatchway.
North slowly began to circle around to the front of the hatch, his pistol covering the opening as he pulled a stun baton from his belt with his other hand. He noticed how much his hand was bleeding, seeing the knife wound as well as the shredded knuckles from when he’d smashed in Bunk’s teeth. Not to mention his dislocated fingers. He knew the only reason he was keeping the pistol steady was because of the vast amounts of adrenaline pumping through him.
But without pharma, his body would not be able to keep the endocrine boost going. And it seemed that pharma was not exactly a safe bet at that moment. North didn’t need more evidence of that fact. He only hoped he would get to Linklater before the inevitable system crash that his body was in for.
“Link!” North shouted as he moved towards the hatchway, quickly realizing that there was no lift waiting for him. “Link!”
The blow was hard and swift, nailing him right in his wounded hand. The pain was enough to push through the adrenaline surge and make him drop his pistol. North instinctively drew his hand to his chest and brought up his stun baton. He whirled around, but no one was with him in the corridor.
“You again?” he asked. There was no response. “I know you’re there, you piece of—”
The wind was knocked from North’s lungs as something hard hit him in the gut. He didn’t know if it was a fist, a boot, a club or what. He didn’t really care as he dropped to a knee and swung out blindly with his stun baton, catching nothing but air.
“Fucking…coward,” North coughed. “Gotta hide…from me…to fight.”
North swung the stun baton back and forth, back and forth, maintaining some space in front of him as he tried to scoot backwards and get the wall fully behind him. He sensed the next blow before it came, giving him time to duck and take the brunt to his shoulder and not the side of his head. But that was as good as it got for North as he found himself held around the neck by a shimmering forearm.
“Where is it?” the shimmer asked close to North’s left ear. “Just hand it over and you get to live.”
“Fuck…you,” North choked.
“This can go easy for you, North,” the shimmer said. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will. Then I’ll just search your body.”
“Suck…my…dick,” North said. “Search…that.”
The pressure on North’s throat increased, causing black spots to dance before his eyes. The blood in his head started to pound and it felt like it would explode out the top of his skull. North got his hand up and tried to pull the forearm away, but the shimmer just held tight.
“Come on, North,” the shimmer said. “Just give it to me. I really don’t want to do this.”
“Then…don’t,” North gasped.
“I will,” the shimmer said. “I swear to the Makers that I will.”
“I…don’t…know…what…you…want,” North said.
“The key,” the shimmer said. “I just need the key. Terlinger shouldn’t have given it to you. That was a mistake. I aim to rectify that mistake.”
“What…key?” North asked as his world started to dim. It was hard to hear the shimmer over the blood thumping in his ears. “I…don’t have—”
“Hey!” a muffled voice called from the hatchway. “What the fuck are you doing, North?”
The pressure eased up on North’s neck as his body was twisted towards the voice.
“Who the fuck are you?” the shimmer asked as a rag-covered person pulled itself out of the server tower hatch and into the corridor.
“Who said that?” the rag man asked. “North? What the hell is going on?”
The pressure eased even more and North took the opportunity to grab his stun baton and jam it back behind him. He activated it and almost wished he hadn’t as the forearm spasmed around his throat and nearly ripped his head off. Then the choking stopped and the arm was gone. North pushed himself away and crouched on his hands and knees in the middle of the corridor, his lungs desperate for fresh air.
“Fucking…stay…away,” North whee
zed as he limply threatened the rag man with the stun baton. “I’ll…fuck…you…up.”
“Oh, shut your stupid mouth,” the rag man said as he moved towards North. “You couldn’t fuck up a drunk cadet right now. Get your ass up. I need your help.”
North looked at the rag man then shook his head. “Link?”
“Yeah, who the fuck else did you think it was?” the rag man replied. Then he patted himself down. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
Linklater unwrapped the rags from his head and tossed them aside. North glanced over and realized the rags were actually a wet and soot-stained uniform.
“What the hell was going on?” Linklater asked. “What was that?”
North glanced behind him, but didn’t see even a hint of a shimmer.
“Baton should have shorted his shield,” North said.
“Was that someone with a cloaking shield?” Linklater asked. “Holy shit. I never thought I’d see one of those in action. Who was it?”
“How the hell should I know?” North snapped as he held out a hand. “Help me up, will you?”
Linklater hurried over and helped North to his feet.
“Listen, North, you have something I need,” Linklater said. “Something we all need. It may be the key, well it is the key, to what is all happening here.”
“What is happening?” North asked.
Linklater started to reply then paused. “Uh…I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know I have the key?” North asked.
“Because you had a medal on you,” Linklater said. “A medal you said Terlinger gave you.”
North took a step back and raised the stun baton.
“What?” Linklater asked.
“Are you working with him?” North asked. “The shimmer? You are, aren’t you? This is some tag team strategy, right? I wouldn’t tell him so you come in next and try to get the info out of me?”
“Uh…no,” Linklater said. “Paranoid, are we?”
“I’ve been fighting and killing guards and cadets for the last hour,” North said. “And if I’m not the one doing it then they are doing it to each other. This station has gone to fucking hell, Link. I am far from paranoid, I’m just trying to survive.”
“Cadets killing each other?” Linklater asked. “What the holy shit are you talking about?”
“Like you don’t know,” North glared.
“I don’t, asshole!” Linklater shouted as he pointed at the server tower hatch. “I’ve been trapped in there since the last time I saw you! Someone tried to kill Wendt and me with the lift! Then they blew it up and sent some noxious gas through the shaft! Why the fuck do you think I had Wendt’s uniform wrapped around my head? Because I like to sniff his crotch stink? Because the smell of piss is my favorite scent?”
“You really don’t know?” North asked, his instincts kicking in. “You haven’t seen any of it?”
“I haven’t seen shit,” Linklater said. “Except for you getting choked by nothing and then stunning that nothing.”
North turned around slowly. “He could still be here.”
“Who?” Linklater asked.
“I don’t know,” North said. He stopped turning and looked at Linklater. “What’s so important about this key? Why did that guy want it and now you do?”
“Well, looky here,” Metzger laughed as he came around the corner. “Why am I not surprised to find you little fuck buddies hanging out together? I always knew you were a fucking DG, Linklater. You just stunk like an Estelian.” Metzger sniffed the air theatrically then wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, you actually do stink. Is that piss?”
“Fuck you, Metzger,” Linklater said. “I do not have time for your shit. Now just turn around—”
“Uh, Link? Metzger is on pharma,” North said. “A lot of it. Same shit that’s making everyone batshit crazy.”
“He doesn’t look any more crazy than usual,” Linklater said.
Metzger took aim with his scorcher and grinned. “That’s because I’m not. Never been so clearheaded in my life. The orders coming to my chip tell me so. Blasting your face off is going to feel soooo good.”
“Ah, fuck,” North said and grabbed Linklater by the arm. “Run!”
North threw his stun baton at Metzger and took off down the corridor as fast as he could. Linklater was right on his tail when Metzger opened fire with his scorcher.
“Holy shit!” Linklater yelled. “He calls shooting at us clearheaded? Fuck him!”
They got to the next corner and sprinted around it. Right into four guards. North struck out with his fist and caught one guard in the face then kicked another in the groin, sending both to the floor. He grabbed the barrel of a third’s scorcher and turned it to the side just as it discharged, sending a plasma bolt into the fourth guard. North hammered his fist into the scorcher guard’s throat, crushing the woman’s windpipe and yanked the scorcher free, turned it on her and fired. Then he fired down at the two collapsed guards and looked over his shoulder at Linklater.
“Fucking A,” Linklater said. “You killed them.”
“Of course I did,” North said, nodding at the guards. “Grab their scorchers.”
North turned around and aimed at the corner of the corridor. As soon as Metzger started to come around, North fired the scorcher, melting a chunk of the corner’s wall.
“Close, North!” Metzger yelled as he jumped back. “Really close! Looks like you have more blood on your hands, asshole! You shouldn’t have killed my guards! I’m keeping a list of everything you’re going to get hanged for! If I let the CSC have you! Probably going to rip you apart myself, though! Looking forward to that!”
“Go,” North said as he backed away, carefully stepping over the guards’ corpses. He kept the scorcher trained on the corner. “Link?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Linklater said as he stood up with three scorchers hanging over his shoulder. “Uh, where to?”
“Right now? Away,” North said, firing a plasma blast at the corner as Metzger tried to peek around. “Just go.”
Linklater turned and started running. North fired at the corner until the scorcher was empty then bent down and picked up two pistols from the guards, turned, and took off after Linklater.
When he caught up, he asked, “Uh, why do you smell like piss?”
“Uric acid,” Linklater said. “Helped to neutralize whatever was in the smoke.”
“Oh,” North replied.
“No, seriously,” Linklater said.
“Right. Sure,” North said.
“Oh, fuck off,” Linklater growled.
Forty-Four
It took one last kick for the hatch to break free and float off away from the nearly totaled quad. Garcia pulled herself free of the cockpit and out onto the shredded and scorched frame of the fighter, expecting at any second to be blasted out of the vacuum by a plasma bolt. She gripped the edge of the hatch, the magnets in her flight suit’s gloves keeping her from floating off into the less than open space. Behind her visor, her mouth hung open as she surveyed the scene.
Wreckage was everywhere, Estelian and CSC. Partial quads bumped into each other then ricocheted out into the vacuum. Chunks of Estelian destroyers, battleships, and cruisers collided with the partial quads, turning them into shrapnel that exploded and flew in all directions. Garcia ducked back inside her quad’s cockpit as a rain of metal flew past. She stayed down for a few minutes, only daring to pull herself back up after the last bit of metal floated past.
“Jesus,” she whispered as she looked out at the massive debris field.
She remained cautious, sitting on top of her quad, as she studied what was left of the battle. She hoped to see some sign of life, some movement amongst the graveyard of spacecrafts. But there was nothing, just the husks of mangled warships and the shells of dead quads.
Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of a flight suit, but never an intact one. She turned her head as fast as possible to avoid seeing the frozen and frigid remains that the suits
held. She was very grateful for the tinted visors the helmets had since she wasn’t sure she could handle looking into the dead eyes of a fellow pilot.
She sat like that for a couple of hours, just watching it all swirl around her. It was like a nightmare ballet of death; a graveyard dance of the bones of enemies. It was another hour before her suit started to beep, bringing her out of her morbid reverie.
Garcia tapped at her wrist and was shocked to see she had about thirty minutes of air left before she became just another lifeless marker of the battle in the vacuum.
“No,” she said to herself. “I lived. I keep going.”
She scanned the debris and looked for a quad that could be intact enough to have an air supply left. There was one that was at least a kilometer off, pinballing back and forth between the hunks of a destroyer that surrounded it. Garcia calculated the trajectory and realized there was no way she could get there with just one push. Too much interference from other pieces that floated back and forth in her path.
Looking left then right, Garcia searched the debris field for a different route, then saw it. Half a quad was about to float by her, maybe ten meters away. Its trajectory would take it past a tangle of scorched struts that looked to have come from a cruiser. That tangle was moving at a downward angle towards a blasted Estelian quad that was more hole than fighter. The blasted quad was moving at a different angle back towards the quad that Garcia wanted to get to.
The timing was going to be rough, but she knew if she aimed right, she could hop from one piece of junk to the next and the next until she got to her destination.
“Let’s just hope this works,” Garcia said as she bunched her legs and got ready to jump. “No one to save my ass if it doesn’t.”
With a quick prayer to the Makers, Garcia lunged out into the vacuum, her arms tucked to her side as she tried to make as small a target as possible. There was still so much junk and shrapnel whizzing by her that she knew she had just as much of a chance of getting sliced in half by a severed quad wing than she had of actually making it to her target. The half-quad she was aiming for got closer and closer and she reached out for it at the last minute just as it was about to rush by.