Nightmare Ship: Space Exploration Thriller

by Scholes, James

  Nolan skidded through the threshold. He slammed his open fist on the lock button and twisted to watch the door close. Before the heavy metal sealed him in safely, he saw the creature chasing him. A massive beast covered in hair, with a million eyes over its face and legs reaching towards him...

  Nolan screamed—then the door slammed shut. Thud—the monster trapped within crashed into the door, and then was still. Nolan closed his eyes and started to cry.

  “Godsmith,” something said behind him.

  Nolan screamed again; he spun around, blaster in hand. There was a shape standing there, bathed in shadow. Nolan's finger tightened on the trigger. There was a sharp crack of energy and a blinding blast of red fire.

  Then... Silence.

  9

  The blaster smoke cleared slowly, but the stench of ozone and burned flesh remained. Nolan looked down at the figure at his feet; a pathetic creature, with shoulder-length hair and clothes made from linen.

  Behind him, there was a loud thud that shook the metallic frame of the locked door. Nolan jumped, whirled around. He stared at the door, waited for the monster to crash into it again. He could hear scratching at the metal, like chalk on a blackboard. There were other sounds, as well: a faint hissing, almost a whisper, and the constant click-click-click of sharp pincers on the broken metal floor.

  The corpse by his feet groaned.

  Nolan whirled, aimed the gun at the child's head. No, not a child—something else. There was something off-putting about the creature, as though it weren't completely formed. Its hair was plastered over its face so Nolan couldn't make out its features, but he could see that the creature lacked the definition of most men. An unformed creature, but a live one.

  Nolan stared at the burned hole in its side. The flesh was blackened and pulsing. He could see angry red blisters through the charred linen wrap the being wore, and there was blood and pus already erupting from the wound.

  The creature groaned again.

  Nolan stood there, unsure what to do. Should he kill it? But it looked so defenceless... Should he just leave it here? Thud—the monster behind the door must have read his mind and lusted for flesh. No, Nolan couldn't leave it here, and if he didn't do something soon then it would die.

  “Don't scream,” he said, and the creature nodded as though it understood. Nolan didn't think that was possible, even if the creature was conscious. Nolan slid his blaster into his pants, leaned down and picked up the child-like being. He straightened, and the child's hair fell from its face. Nolan stared at the unformed face, with a small, elf-like nose and a forehead that was flat, with eyes a little too far apart to be human and a mouth that was pointed, almost carnivorous. It weighed far too little, and Nolan could feel its bones underneath its tiny frame.

  The creature stank.

  Nolan turned away so he could breathe fresh air and started walking. There was an infirmary near the personnel quarters. There was an anti-bac chamber there; that was all he could offer the creature.

  But what was between him and the infirmary? Nolan put thoughts of monsters out of his mind, even as he walked through the destroyed galley covered in soot and ash and signs of violence. He didn't look at the old puddles of blood that were everywhere, and he didn't breathe again until he was in the next corridor. The signs of struggle hadn't reached this section. Nolan didn't dare relax, and his heart raced with every step. He tried to think logically and keep his panic at bay. Whatever was aboard the ship destroyed everything it touched; if the corridor was intact, then he didn't need to worry. There were no monsters here.

  Unless the child had friends, lying in wait.

  “I mean you no harm,” Nolan said, and he felt stupid as he said it. The child moaned but didn't say anything, and once again Nolan thought the creature understood him. What had it said to him? Godsmith. What did that mean? Perhaps it wasn't a word at all, but had only sounded like one. The idea that this frail creature could speak English just wasn't possible. The fact that it was on board the ship wasn't possible, either. Nolan decided those thoughts could wait for later.

  Nolan looked down at the small face that he cradled in his arms. Its chest rose and fell like a sick puppy; it was still alive. Nolan wasn't sure whether it was a male or a female, or even if it was a child. He looked up: he had reached another blast-door. Behind this door was the personnel quarters, and the infirmary.

  Nolan lowered the child-like creature to the ground; it gasped as its burned flesh touched the cold floor. Nolan winced, but there was nothing he could do to take away the pain, not yet. He pulled out his blaster and positioned himself on the side of the blast-door. He took a deep breath and then a second to calm himself. Then he opened the door.

  Nothing. He waited, took a few steps into the next corridor. There was a smell here that hadn't been their previously. Nolan detected the same wretched scent that wafted from the creature behind him.

  “Hello?” he called out, but there was no response. Nothing stirred except the dust in the air. Nolan waited some more and listened. He could hear the hum of the spaceship and the whir of the fans and the groaning of the child behind him. The groaning was getting more insistent, but less forceful. The child was dying.

  Nolan sheathed the blaster and returned to the pathetic bundle of flesh and bone. There was fresh blood leaking from the wound, and the linen clothing was saturated with the stuff. The stench was incredible and made Nolan gag. He lifted the child in his arms, aware that his clothes would be covered in the being's blood. That was nothing: there were more clothes that he could wear.

  He walked through the corridor, left the blast-door open. He felt naked with the heavy door lying exposed, but the child was moaning constantly now and he could feel heat radiating from its flesh, as though it was developing a fever so hot that it would burst into flames.

  “Just a few more minutes,” Nolan said, and he checked the wall signs to make sure he was going the right way. He had never been here except for the initial tour at the start of the voyage. The signs pointed the way, and he saw a sterile white door down the end of a small corridor. Nolan hurried over to it, used his elbow to slap the access panel. The door opened, and Nolan stepped inside.

  There was a small chamber in front of him, with another door. An airlock. Nolan stepped into the chamber and hit the button to close the door behind him. There was a faint whir of air cycling through the chamber, and then the next door opened into the infirmary. Nolan stepped through.

  The room was pristine. There wasn't even dust in here. Lights flickered to life around the room and Nolan could see monitors and diagnostic equipment lining the walls. He wasn't interested in any of that: he was interested in the anti-bac chamber that dominated the room.

  The anti-bac chamber was very similar to the hyper-sleep pod, except it was larger and more circular. It was closed.

  “Almost there,” Nolan said, and he lay the child on the ground. The creature didn't stir, didn't even moan. Nolan looked at its chest to see if it was breathing, but it was still. “Almost there.”

  Nolan hurried over to the anti-bac chamber and cycled the power. The bed vibrated slowly and the cylindrical housing slid apart like two halves of a cigar case. He turned back to the creature on the floor. It was just as still as it had been a moment earlier.

  “Don't be dead,” Nolan said, not sure why he cared. “Please don't be dead.”

  He picked the child up and slid it into the chamber. The anti-bac bed flashed green and blue and the cigar-case housing slid shut. There was an explosive burst of white gas and ice frosted on the glass. Fluid flooded the chamber; Nolan knew that the fluid was close to freezing. He had only been in an anti-bac chamber once, but he would never forget: freezing cold, but pleasant and calming. That was the gas, of course: it took away all pain and anything unpleasant. The freezing cold did the rest and all that remained was a trance-like state of consciousness and the knowledge that all would be well.

  As long as the creature was still alive.

&nb
sp; The diagnostic monitor flashed to life and ran through a series of checks. Nolan looked at the X-ray diagram that appeared. The blaster wound flashed red on the monitor. At the bottom of the screen flashed the label: sub-human.

  Sub-human... Nolan turned and looked back at the silhouette of the child, that was all he could see through the icy covering of the plexi-glass. He had known that it wasn't a child he carried, that the being in his hands hadn't been the same as him. But seeing the truth printed on the monitor made him shiver.

  What the hell is it? Nolan didn't know—the monitor didn't provide any more information—but the only thought that ran though his mind was: is it friendly?

  Nolan didn't want to dwell on that thought, but his fingers wrapped around the handle of his blaster and he pulled it out, held it across his hips.

  Just in case.

  10

  The anti-bac chamber finished its work with a dull chime, and all was still. Nolan waited, blaster at the ready. He could see nothing through the ice-covered plexi-glass except an unmoving shape that looked vaguely like a human... Only it wasn't a human, not at all. It was something else, and where it had come from and what its plans were, Nolan could only guess at. He would know soon enough.

  Slowly, the cylindrical housing opened and revealed the child-like creature in its sodden clothes. It was still and unmoving. Nolan could see the hole where he had shot it, and the skin was smooth, with a faint hexagonal scaring over the wound the only sign that the creature had been shot at all.

  Nolan waited. The creature groaned, turned its head. It opened its eyes—green eyes blinked in the harsh light and Nolan knew that he would be an unfocussed blob to the creature.

  “Neema? Is that you, Neema?” the creature called, is voice soft and unhurried. Nolan didn't say anything and just stood there. “Neema? I can't hear you.”

  “I'm not Neema,” Nolan said, and he was surprised at the viciousness in his voice. He blinked at himself and said, more softly: “how are you feeling?”

  The creature jumped at the sound of Nolan's voice, and it scrambled off the anti-bac bed and fell to the floor. Nolan winced, but waited as the creature climbed up on its knees and looked over the bed's tray, still blinking its green eyes.

  “Godsmith,” it said. “You're real. You live.”

  “I'm Nolan,” Nolan said. “Flight Officer Nolan. I'm not... Who's Godsmith?”

  “Godsmith,” the creature breathed and started to shake. It looked at the blaster in Nolan's hands and its eyes went wide. “I have injured you. I am not worthy.”

  “What? I injured you!” Nolan protested. He slid the blaster into his trousers, embarrassed. “I shot you. I'm sorry, I thought you were... I didn't expect to see you. Are you okay? What's your name?”

  The creature straightened to its full height, a little over five feet. It puffed out its chest and ran a hand through its errant hair to brush it from its face.

  “My name is Jakool,” the creature said. “It means Star Warrior.”

  “Jakool...” Nolan repeated the name. “My name is Nolan. It means... Nolan.”

  “Nolan. I will call you that, Godsmith.”

  “Godsmith... What does that mean?” Nolan asked. Jakool laughed.

  “Godsmith tests me! I will not be found wanting! Godsmith means... Can you smell that?”

  “Huh?” Nolan frowned, and then he realised that Jakool was smelling the air. “I don't smell... Oh.”

  That smell: dead flesh and rotting meat. Nolan spun, but there was nothing there except the closed door of the airlock.

  “This room is supposed to be on its own air supply,” Nolan said. “We shouldn't be able to smell a damn thing...” Only, everything is starting to break, Nolan told himself. The air supply system would be breaking down, too. Nolan pulled his blaster, then turned to Jakool.

  “There was a... What else is aboard this ship, Jakool?”

  “The hunters,” Jakool said, his eyes dark and serious. The small creature looked around for a weapon, found a metal I.V. stand on wheels. Jakool pulled the stand free and held it in front of him like a staff. “Godsmith, I will follow you into battle.”

  Into battle... “Right,” was all Nolan could think to say, and he headed towards the airlock. There was no other way out of the room, and if the airlock failed, they would be trapped. Their only option was to escape before the monsters reached them. “These hunters—how close do you think they are?”

  “Close,” Jakool said.

  “And what's the best way to kill them?” Nolan asked.

  “Kill?” Jakool frowned, not understanding.

  “Kill! You know... Dead. Make them dead. Stop them from breathing.”

  “I know kill,” Jakool said, and he laughed.

  “What's so funny?”

  “We don't kill the hunters; the hunters kill us,” Jakool said with a manic grin. Nolan shivered at the innocent smile on the creature's face, turned back to the airlock. He looked down at his blaster.

  “Maybe we'll change that,” Nolan said and he stepped into the airlock. Jakool followed and Nolan cycled the door shut. He waited for the burst of air to flood the small antechamber, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of death that flooded the room.

  Then the outer door opened, and Nolan stepped into the corridor beyond.

  Darkness—the corridor hadn't changed at all, but Nolan hadn't realised just how dull the lighting was. Every bulb was like a tiny star, and provided barely enough light to reach the soothing carpet that ran the length of the corridor. Every door was dark, and the stench of rotting flesh and old sweat was overwhelming.

  Nolan took another step forward. Behind him, he could feel Jakool following. Jakool... Not a child, that much was clear. A friend, perhaps? Nolan didn't know—everything had happened so fast, that Nolan didn't know much of anything. All he knew was Jakool was more human than whatever that thing was that had attacked him. For now, that was friendly enough.

  Nolan wondered if Jakool was older than he was. Male or female, Nolan didn't know. He turned and looked the creature up and down. He didn't want to ask; Jakool just stared at him with a blank, trusting expression on its face.

  “Are you okay, Godsmith?”

  “It's Nolan,” he said with a sigh, turned back around. “Just Nolan.”

  “Jakool,” Jakool said, awkwardly. Nolan grimaced, but then he smiled. It felt good to talk to someone that wasn't his own shadow. Even though he had been asleep for almost the entirety of his journey, there was a longing there that had stretched throughout the dreams. He had missed good company.

  But there was something up ahead. Nolan didn't see it so much as feel it. Something unworldly. Behind him, he heard Jakool stiffen. He had felt it, too.

  “A... What did you call them? Hunters?”

  “A hunter,” Jakool confirmed, and the short humanoid looked at the staff he was holding and it was clear he thought it would not be enough. Nolan hefted his blaster, kept moving down through the corridor. The smell that came for them was rancid. Nolan didn't want to breathe.

  There was a sound: a faint scuffling across the floor, and a hiss of breath. Nolan tensed—it had been closer than he expected. There was an open door just in front of him. How it had opened, Nolan didn't know; there was debris lying on the carpeted floor in front of him. Something had torn at the lock mechanism and forced their way inside. Nolan wanted to ask Jakool if this was his work, but he didn't dare speak. Whatever was inside the room, it was trying hard not to make any sound.

  Nolan shared a look with Jakool; the short man nodded. Nolan tried not to breathe, then he leapt into the open room, blaster in hand.

  The room was empty.

  No, there was something there: a shape, hiding in the shadows. Nolan relaxed.

  “One of yours?” he asked.

  “Pashma?” Jakool called. “Pashma; I can see you.”

  The shape in the corner straightened and stared at them with large, white eyes.

  “Godsmith!” he breathed.<
br />
  “It's Nolan,” Nolan snapped, but the creature known as Pashma wasn't listening. He looked to Jakool, instead.

  “I came looking for you,” he said.

  “It's dangerous,” Jakool chided.

  “That is why I came. You had been gone too long.”

  “I was coming back. I was... Godsmith saved me.”

  “Yes,” Nolan said with a wince of remembered pain. Saved was the polite way of saying what had happened. It was close enough.

  “Pashma, we must hurry. The others will be waiting. We will take Godsmith with us. He will show us the way.”

  “The way?” Nolan frowned, but the two short men weren't listening to him, and already they were heading through the door, into the hallway. Pashma was shorter than Jakool, and more plump. His hair was curly and his face was round. He looked older than Jakool, but it was clear that Jakool had seniority. It was also clear that they were friends.

  They stepped into the corridor. The smell hit them like a slap to the face. Nolan's stomach churned and he screwed up his nose. The smell... Like death.

  Pashma's face went white.

  The hairs on the back of Nolan's neck rose up and he felt his muscles tightening. Through the dull light he saw something coming for them. A shadowy shape, jerky in its movements but single-minded. It ran across the floor, then the wall, then the roof. Always towards them, stop-start, stop-start. Click-click-click.

  Nolan opened fire. His blaster burned red hot in the dull corridor and the scream of each bolt of energy was enough to leave his ears ringing. His first bolt hit the shadowy mass on the roof; it fell to the ground in a cloud of legs and hair. Nolan couldn't get a good look at it, he only knew that it was right out of a nightmare.

  And it was still coming for him.

  “Run!” Nolan shouted. But neither Jakool or Pashma were listening to him—they were long gone.

  He was on his own.

  11

  Nolan ran. In front of him, he could just make out Pashma through the gloom. The light in front of him blinked rapidly and died, and the corridor grew even more dark. The personal quarters had always been designed to be low-lit and gentle, but right now Nolan wished it had been lit up like a hospital.