Occasionally, Jakool would pause and sniff the air. More than once he retreated if the rotting stench of death was too strong. He held a blaster in his hand, and had more slung across his back, but he had seen the weapons in action and he wasn't convinced that they were effective. Perhaps on a smaller hunter they would be deadly, but the larger ones hadn't seemed fussed at all when they had been hit.
Still, Jakool held the blaster tightly and would fire it if he had to. He ran, down more corridors, through open blast-doors and thoroughfares. The rooms were meaningless to him, their contents undecipherable. He knew that Godsmith understood each and every room on this ship, and one day he would ask them as to their purpose. But not today.
Today he had to get back to Neema.
He slowed as he approached their burrow. It was just around the corner; not far at all. The smell of death lingered, but it was not strong. It stank of stale sweat, too. And it was hot. The air vents blew out air that was like the breath of the devil. If he got too close, he could feel it want to scald his flesh. He would have to be careful.
He approached their burrow, blaster at the ready. The lights were mostly broken around here, but there was enough light that he could see everything. He inspected every shadow, just in case death lurked in the darkness. Crates and debris had been thrown in all directions as the ship had tumbled. He feared for Neema and her baby; she would not have expected the world to spin her around on her head. If she had hurt herself... Jakool put the fear out of his mind. She would not be hurt. He would find her.
Their burrow had been torn apart.
Jakool rounded the corner and saw that the door to their home had been wrenched from its holdings. The metal had been ripped in two and discarded, blocking one of the corridors. There was blood everywhere, and he could make out a crushed body lying pinned under a crate. Jakool's heart started to race, but he held his ground. To hurry inside could be deadly.
The stench of rotting meat was stronger here.
Slowly, Jakool approached the burrow. He could see their belongings thrown everywhere. It was better to look here than at the body; there was food lying in broken bags, strips of cloth torn and bloodied, Godsmith's slippers had been thrown into the corner.
Jakool stepped inside the room. There were no hunters here, which was the only good thing he could say. He turned and looked at the corpse lying under broken crates.
It was Plunk.
Jakool relaxed as he inspected the body. His fluids had been drained through two holes in his head. Jakool could tell that he had been dead when the hunter had attacked him: he could tell by the way the blood hadn't stained the rest of his skull. That, at least, was a positive: Jakool hadn't been very fond of Plunk, but he did not wish him to die like that. Nobody deserved to die under the fangs of a hunter.
Neema and Gillen were missing. Jakool didn't see how they could have gotten anywhere: it was clear that a hunter had torn the door apart, and that meant they would have been trapped inside. Jakool looked around, saw an air-vent with its grating lying open. The air-vent was at floor height now, and it was taller than it was wider because the ship was lying on its side.
Jakool approached the vent and looked inside. It was dark, but there was a red light glowing from within. Jakool took a deep breath and climbed inside.
He regretted it instantly: the metal walls of the air-vent were too hot to touch, and his skin started to burn as he crawled through the hatch. He could see bits of skin in front of him—Neema and Gillen had come this way, too. Jakool could see their reasoning; it was either this or death from a hunter.
Jakool moved as fast as he could, but it was hard work. Every few seconds a breath of blasting hot air would hit him and he sagged under the onslaught. He could feel sweat dripping from his body and the metal started to glow from the heat—that was where the light was coming from, the metal itself. He could smell his flesh starting to burn.
It smelled like rotting meat.
Jakool looked up, suddenly afraid. The scent was everywhere, all around him. Jakool started to race through the tunnel. There was a cross-intersection in front of him: he looked left and saw nothing; looked right and saw a blackness coming for him, legs dancing over the metal. Jakool aimed his blaster down the small tunnel and opened fire. The screaming explosion of blaster fire almost deafened him, and the smoke was noxious and made him gag. The hunter flew apart under the onslaught—it was small enough that its outer shell wasn't hardened. Grey goo flew in all directions.
There were more creatures behind it, and now he could hear a steady click-click-click to the left, as well.
Jakool hurried forward, looked behind him and fired again. The hunters were everywhere, and they were coming for him. The heat was forgotten as he fired. His shots hit home with lethal effect, but the air vent was over-flowing with the monsters.
The metal started to groan under the weight of so many hunters. Jakool could see the red-hot air-vent stretch and bow as dozens of the small creatures came for him. Jakool kept firing, didn't dare stop. The metal bowed and sunk; Jakool found himself starting to slide towards the waiting hunters, even as he shot them dead.
Something grabbed him from behind. Jakool screamed, but the hands had five fingers and were warm.
“Jakool!” Neema, she held him so he no longer slid downwards, but the metal below him was giving way. Something went snick... Then the air-vent gave way, broke apart. The hunters squealed as they disappeared into the dark. Jakool felt the vent underneath him start to fall, too, but Neema's hands were too strong and she pulled him backwards. He saw a grating over his face and the heavy metal fell and hit his forehead, drew blood. He ignored it, kicked against the red-hot wall as it fell, used every last inch of friction to kick upwards and out of the chamber even as the last of the air-vent fell away and crashed into the innards of the ship.
Jakool landed on the floor. It was still hot, but he was out of the air-vent. Neema held him in her hands.
“Jakool,” she whispered into his ear, kissed his sweating face.
“Neema,” Jakool said back to her, and he collapsed against her. Something moved behind him; something tall and shadowy, full of legs whose shadows reached the roof. Jakool tightened, pulled away.
Gillen. He held one of Jakool's blasters; he has scooped it up off the floor after he had fallen from the vent.
“So,” Gillen said with a sneer. He looked down at the blaster he had snatched, inspected it. “You survived.”
“I survived,” Jakool nodded. He turned to Neema, his face written with sadness: “Kareem and Truda are dead.”
“I know,” Neema said from where she lay on the floor. “In my heart, I have known as soon as Truda walked away. I feared for you, Jakool. I feared—”
“—Enough!” Gillen roared, and he aimed the blaster at Jakool. “Your fake Godsmith has deserted you. I told you!”
“He has not deserted us,” Jakool said, but his face clouded as he tried to comprehend the words Godsmith had told him. “He has... He has gone to... To save the ship.”
“Ha! Listen to you: you don't believe the words that come from your mouth,” Gillen said. “I am the elder. I told you!”
“Yes, you are the elder,” Jakool nodded, hung his head. Gillen licked his lips. Neema saw his thoughts written clearly across the fat man's face.
“Gillen, please—”
“I am the elder!” Gillen shouted, and that was all he had to say. “Your fake Godsmith has destroyed our home. Because of you, Jakool, our home is ruined. Because of you, Jakool, our family is dead. Because of you, Jakool, my unborn child is no more. Because of you.”
“Yes,” Jakool found tears in his eyes. Everything Gillen said was true. He was the elder.
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Gillen demanded. Jakool went to speak, but nothing came out of his throat. Neema started to scream. Gillen laughed—an evil, arrogant laugh. “Yes, scream all that you must—I am the elder, and my word is Law.”
The shadows
behind Gillen stretched and rose; legs that had been hidden by debris were now super-imposed against the wall in stark relief. Gillen laughed even as Neema screamed, even as Jakool raised his own blaster.
“You dare raise a hand towards me?” Gillen shouted. “I am the elder!”
Gillen fired. Jakool ducked away from the blast; the bolt of energy crashed into the bulkhead and turned it into blackened slag. Jakool spun around to face Gillen, ready to fire—but he was too slow.
“What? Help!” Gillen shouted as a half-dozen legs wrapped around his torso, pulled his arms apart. There was a pop as one arm was wrenched from its socket. Gillen screamed and looked up—saw a million eyes staring down at him, and two deadly fangs ready for their supper. “Help!”
Jakool fired, hit Gillen in the face. Gillen sagged, dead, but the hunter didn't care whether or not its prey was alive. It only cared that it was there. Its fangs dove into the top of Gillen's skull, ready for its feed.
“Come on,” Jakool said as he took Neema's hand. There was an open door leading to a set of store-rooms beyond. He didn't bother looking as he hurried outside; anywhere was better than here. “We have to hurry.”
Neema didn't say anything, just took Jakool's hand. Together, they ran. A single thought ran through Jakool's mind: now, Godsmith was their only hope.
21
Nolan hurried across the surface of the ship. His boots clung to the surface effortlessly; they responded to his every motion, sticking to the hull when his foot landed and releasing when he lifted. It was odd walking upside down amongst the stars, but it was not impossible.
He could feel the heat radiating through the hull. He did not have much time.
The giant blast-doors were near the middle of the ship. He was close; a few more minutes and he would have reached them. He hoped he had that much time. The hull vibrated slightly, as though the contents were under immense pressure. He wondered what would happen once he opened the blast-doors: the reactor room was no longer vacuum-sealed; anything could happen once it was exposed to space. The ship could implode. If he did nothing, it would explode. Not much of a choice. Nolan hurried forward.
He reached the blast-doors and saw the panel that awaited him. A bright red light blinked for his attention. He hurried over to the panel, saw that there was a lever he had to slide that would open the door. The lever was recessed into the hull; he couldn't grab it, not yet. There was another button that flashed red; Nolan hit that button first and the lever rose outwards. Nolan grinned through his bloodied visor as he grabbed the lever. He didn't pause, didn't pray, didn't do anything except act. He wrenched it open.
Nothing happened, at least for a moment.
The flashing red light grew in intensity, and more red lights started flashing around the blast-doors. Nolan stood, backed away. The vibrating under his feet grew deeper, faster, more urgent; there was something inside that was trying to get out. He could feel sirens blaring inside the hull; the sound rattled up his feet, into his suit. He took another step backwards as the blast-doors started to open.
A jet of hot fire exploded out through the opening. Something dark flew out of the gap. The blast-doors kept opening; more dark things exploded out of the opening, some still on fire.
Hunters, Nolan realised. They were being blasted into space.
More flames roared through the gap, along with a billowing white cloud of air. Nolan kept backing away as the doors opened wider. Something deep within the ship went clunk... A sound deep and menacing; something large moving on its moorings. The red lights were still flashing, and now the door was fully open. There was a crash and a scream of breaking glass; Nolan saw the remnants of the broken water tank explode out through the opening. Water followed soon after, as did more black husks of dead hunters—thousands of the things exploded into space.
The ship rattled and groaned and then the reactor erupted out through the open hole. It tumbled, end on end, into space. It glowed red hot—brighter than the nearest star. Nolan turned away so he didn't have to watch. The reactor was moving at speed, but it was never going to get far enough away before it exploded. Nolan tensed, waited for the inevitable. A single thought ran though his mind: he was too late; he was going to die. There was a moment of intense light and heat and Nolan sagged under the explosion; the reactor went up in a chain-reaction, out of control. Nolan groaned, then screamed. He fell, landed against the warm metal of the ship. His gloves hung onto the metal, wouldn't let him go. The skin of the ship glowed red from the fiery heat, and then their was nothing.
Nolan blinked, looked around. He was still alive, which was unexpected. The hot hull was already starting to cool. He looked backwards, saw the last glowing remnants of the exploded reactor dazzle the heavens before it disappeared into a black nothingness.
It was done. He had survived.
Nolan looked back towards the open blast-door. Air was still escaping from its gaping mouth; he would have to close it before the ship would be safe. There was something else there. Nolan frowned at the sight of it: a giant length of metal emerged from the opening.
No, not metal—a hairy leg, far too long to be real. Another leg, and another. Giant, hairy things. A hunter, and a big one. Massive. Nolan backed away as the giant spider emerged from its home. How it had hidden itself, Nolan had no idea. The thing was an absolute monster: eighteen feet tall, at least. So large that Nolan felt like a mouse.
The monstrous hunter emerged from the hole and stared down at him. Nolan could see thousands of small beads of air contained within the hairs that covered its body. Nolan watched as the creature used one of its legs to feed a small bead of oxygen into its mouth.
Then it approached him.
Nolan cried out in panic, tried to run away. The monster was slow and laborious, but it was so large that even at a slow speed it was faster than Nolan. Nolan tried to run, but he knew there was nowhere to hide. It would catch him before he could get back inside the ship, and then... No, don't think about it. Nolan couldn't help it: the monstrous fangs would rip his environment suit to pieces and the creature would feast on the delicate morsel within—him.
Panic overwhelmed him. He looked at his weapons: the blaster would be useless against such a beast, the tethering gun even more so. Unless... A thought crept into his brain. It might just work. Maybe.
Nolan pulled the tethering gun free. He looked back at the monstrous hunter that was still coming for him. It was getting close—Now! Nolan jumped.
He felt... Nothing. No sense of movement or panic at all. He looked down and saw the ship disappearing. The monstrous hunter disappeared, too. He could see it looking up at him, disappointed. Nolan grinned, then aimed his tethering gun at a point higher up along the hull. He stared down the aiming notches; he had to be sure—he wouldn't get a second shot.
He let out his breath, slowed his heart as much as he could. One... Two.. Thr—Something hit his foot.
Nolan cried out, looked down. A white strand of spider-silk was wrapped around his foot.
“No!” he cried out and tried to kick, but the silk was too strong. He felt his leg jerk as the giant hunter dragged him downwards, towards its waiting mouth. “No!”
Nolan looked around for a way out, for anything. He drew his blaster, held the tether in one hand and the blaster in the other. If he couldn't get away he would blast himself in the head, get it over with quickly. He wasn't going to let the monster suck out his innards. He couldn't die like that. No, not like that.
Ever closer, each second jerked him towards the giant fangs, the waiting mouth. Nolan thought he could smell the rotting carcass, even in the vacuum of space. It was fear that he could smell: the fear of his own death. He had come all this way; it wasn't fair to die like this.
The hunter was so close that it reached out with one of its legs, used it to bring Nolan towards its mouth.
“No!”
Another hideous leg pressed down on him, guided him towards the massive fangs that would suck out his blood, his flesh
, his brains. Nolan pressed the blaster against his visor. He stared down the barrel; it was better than staring into the hairy, inhuman mouth that awaited him.
He saw the beads of air all over the monster and a final, crazy thought occurred to him. The spider's face was so close now; the fangs stretched outwards, ready to consume him. Yes... Yes!
Nolan dropped the tethering gun, let it float in space. He reached behind him, grabbed one of his suit's oxygen tubes and pulled. The tube came free; oxygen exploded out from the open nozzle. He started to gag as he lost air pressure. He had to act, and he had to act fast.
The spider's fangs reached for him. Nolan saw the blast of air wash into the monster's face. Then he aimed the blaster into the geyser of oxygen and fired. White, blinding light erupted all around him; a perfectly brilliant flame erupted from the oxygen tube.
The monstrous spider squealed and reared up as the air around its body exploded into fire: its source of life was what would kill it.
Nolan cried out—the sound swallowed by the developing vacuum inside his suit. He could feel himself blacking out; spots exploded in front of his eyes. He saw the tethering gun floating there, just in front of him. He reached out, grabbed it.
Fired.
A jet of white cord shot out from its barrel, smacked right into the open blast-door of the reactor cavity. Nolan pressed the button on top of the gun and the tether started dragging him towards it. Behind him: the hunter. Nolan fired at the belly of the dancing, writhing creature and the strand of silk around his foot snapped and he was free. Free!
But he was dying. He started to gasp; there was no air. He reached up, tried to grab the oxygen tube. He screamed, pulled his hand away—the tube was still on fire. He would die still.
He had nearly reached the open blast-doors. His feet hit the hull and he started to run and stumble towards the opening. Behind him, he could feel the giant hunter charging after him. It was still alive, but at least Nolan was free.
If only he could reach the opening.
Nightmare Ship: Space Exploration Thriller Page 11