by Alan Spencer
"Sweet Jesus! Blind me?"
Ram didn't move at all. He held his breath. He prayed the sweat running down the side of his head wouldn't be a distraction for the cyborg.
He was shocked when the cyborg extended his pointer finger an inch from his right eyeball. Pathfinder's fingernail lifted from the tip. A red laser was produced under the nail and scanned his eye.
"No threat. His only intention is to reach Second Earth and impregnate his female friend."
"Thanks, dick," Ram complained, once the laser finger wasn't pointed at his eyeball. "Man code, Pathfinder. Don't tell everybody all of my secrets."
Buffy didn't react. She already had the laser finger on her eye. After five seconds, Pathfinder gave his verbal assessment.
"No threat."
"That's all?" Ram was angry. "You didn't scan any secrets in there you'd like to share?"
Dr. Fleming intervened. "He's still got a few bugs to work out. He'll make mistakes as he goes."
"A few bugs?" Buffy reacted once she too didn't have the laser in her eye. "He's fully loaded, right? He's got a tank inside him, and you're saying he could make mistakes?"
"He's all we got," Dr. Fleming argued. "Think. Just us against what's out there, forget it. We'll be dead. Pathfinder is the closest thing you're going to get to evening the odds."
Pathfinder 3000 was scanning Ernie. Ernie's face had drained into the color of cheesecloth.
Pathfinder 3000's verbal assessment came quickly. "Strong threat to the innocent."
The cyborg's hand clutched Ernie's throat with a vice's grip.
"Gaaaaaak!"
"What is it doing?" Buffy gasped. "You can't just kill him."
Dr. Fleming stared at what was happening with a respectful silence.
Ram was about to charge the machine when Pathfinder 3000 spoke.
"Ernie Pine plans to use you to get to Second Earth. He has friends there who will help him kill you all. You each pose an imminent threat in this man's mind. You, Ram, because you'll ruin the gene pool. You, Buffy, because you're not safe. You don't agree with Globo Corps' future plan for humanity. You wish to expose their wrongs. You'll throw the community into upheaval. You, Dr. Fleming, won't survive either, because Globo Corps has a team of younger scientists on Second Earth who fit Globo Corps' mold better. This crew doesn't ask questions. They just obey orders.
"Globo Corps was planning on retiring you once you stepped foot on the new planet. Ernie Pine knows each of you will reveal the secrets you've learned on this ship to the community who know nothing about the company's wrongdoings. Therefore to protect you, Mr. Pine must die."
Ernie was thrashing to escape Pathfinder's chokehold. He gasped, choked, and bent his body to slip free, and the man ultimately failed. Ernie's face changed from red to a deep purple before he stopped thrashing and died. Pathfinder dropped him on the floor with a hollow thud.
"Wait," Ram said. "Why would Globo Corps make a machine like this? I mean, if it can see through to your thoughts, wouldn't that be like suicide? I mean Globo Corps' full of evil, right? They'd be asking for it."
"Globo Corps approved my project," Dr. Fleming replied, "but they didn't approve the way I built this machine. I had a feeling when we reached Second Earth, I might be in danger. This bad boy is my insurance policy. I designed him with special features, against orders."
Buffy eyed the doctor with distrust. "Then why don't you let your friend scan you? We all did it."
Dr. Fleming walked up to the machine. "Scan me, Pathfinder."
Pathfinder did so.
"No threat."
"How do we know you didn't program it to say that? How can we trust anything this machine does? You work for Globo Corps. What makes you so different than the rest of the assholes who work for them?"
Dr. Fleming agreed with their concerns.
"I'd be thinking the same things you are right now. I came into this operation, because I knew Earth was going to hit the self-destruct button any day. We had no other options. I had to do what I had to do to save humanity. I also knew if I survived and made it to that planet, me and my machine could make a difference and take on Globo Corps. I could make a difference."
The doctor cleared his throat and stuck out his chest. "And if that speech isn't convincing enough, then there's one factoid that'll make you believe me."
"And that would be?" Ram asked.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd be like Ernie already. A corpse on the floor."
Part Six: Fight to Floor Zero
Mercy
Mercy was crouched in the corner of a semi-dark room. The only light was from two oil burning lamps. Mercy had slept on his sleeping bag on the hard floor. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. He was sticky from top to bottom with ancient cobwebs. He had stayed underneath the secret room in the Church of the Holy Salvation, what would later become the Church of the Red Revolution. He was only ten years old now, and didn't know what to do with himself. The lanky child stared at the shadows and tried to understand his purpose here.
What was he supposed to be seeing down here in this box? Or maybe it wasn't something to be seen, but instead, to be heard?
He trained his ears harder.
He heard absolutely nothing.
He had seen absolutely nothing.
So what now?
Mercy searched through the cardboard box for any more candy bars. All he was given were candy bars and a few bottles of water to live on. That food collection had been quickly depleted. His stomach growled. How long had he been in this dark secret room? Judging by how weak and hungry he was, far too long.
Have your vision, his father told him, and when you have it, knock on the door. I'll let you out. Then we'll talk. You're about to become a man of God, my boy.
Mercy cried remembering what his father had told him because Jake, his brother, had seen many things in this secret room. They had a strong bond together. Mercy felt like he had nothing to offer the cause. He was a useless member to the family, and worst of all, he was useless to God.
He tried harder. His eyes bored holes through the walls. Mercy shouted in anger, because he was failing. He balled up his fists, punched the floor, and cried until he fell asleep. When he woke again, Mercy remembered one thing his father told him in the case he didn't have a vision.
He would finally try that suggestion.
He held out little hope of it working, but still, he had to try.
Mercy got up from the floor and walked to the head of the room. He stopped in front of the rocking chair, then sat in Grandpa Lee's lap.
The child asked the withered skeleton dressed in preacher's clothing for advice on how to have a vision.
Nothing happened.
Mercy kept looking deeper and deeper into those deep chasms for eye sockets. He put his hands carefully into the bared hands of a skeleton for comfort. Mercy hoped for answers. Anything.
He felt foolish.
This was a waste of time.
He would have to knock on the door and tell his father he had failed.
Before Mercy moved to do just that, the bone face turned down to Mercy, and out from the withered stinking throat, Grandpa Lee gave the boy the answers he needed.
Mercy enjoyed his new abilities. He could slice across the water faster than any of the sharks that stalked the floors for fresh meat to chew. He could smell flesh and blood. He was so hungry.
Where had everybody gone?
Was everybody dead?
No.
He smelled the living. They were out there.
Mercy arced his body, swam with the tide of flood waters down what used to be the giant escalator, and reached a security officer limping across the main foyer with a wooden baton in his hand.
The security officer cried seeing Mercy's hideous form come in for the kill. "You're hideous! Kill me then. Just get it over with, you ugly son-of-a-bitch!"
Before the officer could shout another obscenity, Mercy grabbed the man by the head and legs and
forced his body to bend the wrong way. Mercy tore him in two like a sheet. Mercy gobbled the organs and meat that spilled from the victim's gaping open body. The warmth, the thickness of the meat, the way his teeth could liquidate even the toughest of flesh and gristle, the meal only further anointed Mercy's hunger.
Mercy stalked through the guest corridors, recreation rooms, open bars, the fine dining restaurant, and searched for more bodies to consume.
He sensed others like him, among the sharks and sea life, and knew he had competition. They were all so very hungry. Every predator could smell those who remained alive on the ship. There were very few alive. He vowed to be the one to eat them.
Every last one of them.
Leaving Safety
Dr. Fleming loaded everybody up with shoulder holsters that carried four of the laser tag space guns. Two guns hung on each side of them. The doctor also gave them a metal compass that was electronic. It would tell them where to go via an automated voice in order to reach Floor Zero.
"In case any of us die on the way down," Dr. Fleming said, "I don't want to leave any of you helpless. Once you find the emergency crafts, you step in front of it, the door will automatically open, and the system will do the rest."
"You mean it'll take us to Second Earth without a pilot?" Buffy asked.
"Exactly."
Ram couldn't take his eyes off of Pathfinder. The man/cyborg looked on awaiting the doctor's next command. "So what if exits are blocked, or we can't access the elevators or stairs to get to Floor Zero?"
"Then we make our own way," Dr. Fleming said. "Our friend here will take care of that."
Pathfinder 3000 clenched his fist. "I will keep you alive, as long as you stick with me. No cute stuff, Mr. Rogan. I don't play games like you do. I don't score touchdowns. I score blood."
"What the hell? Does this robot know who I am?"
"Pathfinder's a walking information system," Dr. Fleming said. "He knows everything about us. I hope to use him as a kind of library to show the future generations born on Second Earth how things used to be."
"When do we kick some ass?" Pathfinder said in his robotic monotone. "I'm ready whenever the rest of you are done gabbing. When it comes time to fight, I hope you won't wimp out on me. You either make 'em bleed, or you're bleeding out your vagina. And sharks love the smell of blood. If you're bleeding, it's tampon time. Raise your hand if you don't have any. I'll provide the feminine napkins."
"Huh?" Buffy laughed hysterically. "I love him. He's full of bullshit."
"Just don't forget I'm human," Ram said. "I'm not programmed to be funny. I just am."
"Jealous of a machine?"
Dr. Fleming stepped between them. "We need to get moving. Time's ticking."
Pathfinder moved towards the main entry door. "We stick together. Stay close. Nobody goes off on their own. Don't make me look for you. If you take me away from obliterating the enemy, I won't be happy at all. I take the lead. Talk only when I ask you a question. Understand?"
Everybody said they understood, except for Ram.
Dr. Fleming nudged Ram with his elbow. "Tell our friend you understand. He won't move until you agree to the terms."
"O-kay. I agree. But why do I have to tell him that?"
"No questions," Pathfinder said. "It's a verbal contract you just made with me. Now let's move. No talking back, or I shoot you myself."
Is that supposed to be robot humor? Ram thought. Things keep getting stranger by the minute.
Pathfinder pressed a series of buttons on the wall console. The door opened. Everybody tensed up. Water leaked into the room. Seconds later, they were ankle deep in it. A severed hand floated by them, alongside wads of bloody and torn up clothing.
The cyborg moved ahead of them. Its head turned in a complete circle, its eyes sending out a laser and scanning the area.
"Clear."
When the four exited the Security room, they left Ernie Pine's body behind.
Ram, Dr. Fleming, and Buffy stayed tight together. Pathfinder moved three feet ahead of them. They could only hear their own footsteps tromping in the water. They kept on for ten minutes and arrived at the emergency stairs.
"Stay put," Pathfinder instructed. "Scan emergency stairs. Threat detected."
The door shot open so hard, it flew off the hinges. Pathfinder was thrown across the hallway. Out came a long octopus tentacle. The hand clasped around Buffy's midsection and lifted her up in the air. Ram aimed his gun, but he couldn't get a clear shot. The tentacle was shaking her up and down like a can of soda. Dr. Fleming's expression of terror proved he too didn't know what to do either.
"Drop the lady!!!"
Pathfinder rocketed towards the tentacle. Flames shot out of his feet. The machine was a streak of speed. His right hand turned inside out, and out unfolded a spinning metal saw blade. The blade sliced through the tentacle, freeing Buffy.
Buffy crashed to the floor, splashing down.
Ram charged through the open door, down the staircase, and spotted the giant octopus climbing up to the top floor towards them. The thing was the size of a yacht. He unloaded four frantic shots from the yellow gun.
Bright green laser beams pounded home. The smell of burning metal and the rotten egg smell of sulfur filled the area. The octopus turned a bright green color. Its body seemed to tremble, and in two seconds, the thing dried out and shriveled into a rotten black husk a third of its original size.
"Way to avoid getting your balls wasted," Pathfinder quipped. "Hell'uva weapon you got there. Thanks for not pissing your pants. Don't let the compliment go to your head, All-American. Shit's only going to get worse. You haven't proved anything to me, tough guy. This isn't football. This is war."
"The fuck is with this machine? Is he going to insult me the whole time? Why doesn't he pick on somebody else? I haven't done anything to you. We don't have a prior relationship. So why me?"
Buffy couldn't help but smile. "What? You can't take a few jabs, All-American?"
Pathfinder was already stalking down the stairs.
Buffy and Ram had to double their speed to catch up.
The stench wafting from the dehydrated octopus was like smelling wet dog food rotting in the hot humid summer heat. The octopus was still sizzling as they stepped over the lengths of charred mess.
Down three new flights, nothing else happened. Along each staircase, water was steadily falling. Ram thought of waterfalls, and calm, and not being eaten.
Ahead, the length of staircase below them was chewed up to the point it was impassable.
"Enter this level," Pathfinder instructed, pointing at the door nearby. "We try the elevator when we find it. If the elevator doesn't work, we'll have to shoot the floor and climb down to the lower level and try the stairs again."
The level they entered led to a convention center. There wasn't much left of what it originally was, because they were now knee deep in water, and dodging broken, chewed up tables, fancy chairs, and bloated body parts.
A banner floated in the wide open space reading: GLOBO CORPS WELCOMES YOU. EYES SET TO THE FUTURE.
Food floated in the water. Caviar, seafood, steaks, and high end eats were rendered inedible, having mixed with human remains and tainted water.
"This must've been where the bigwigs hung out," Ram said. "They probably eat and shit gold."
"They do not shit gold," Pathfinder said. "Not another word. Keep listening."
Everybody had their weapons trained at the wide open room. Pathfinder was moving straight for the double door access. They almost made it when the doors shot open.
What they saw had them gasping in shock.
Ram had to really look at the monstrosity and turn over the details again and again. The flesh was a road map of the grotesque. He imagined a crude shark made out of the human body. That malleable clay was a disgusting lump of broken bones, twisted muscle tissue, and spread thin flesh. Mercy Lazar had his eyes and mouth stretched backwards into narrow triangles. He no longer had hair.
His body was a crude shark's. His arms had been twisted back, half broken, and turned into two fucked up shark fins. The legs were wrapped up in flesh and pressed together to create a rough back fin. Gills, what looked like jagged lacerations of pink gummy skin, lined Mercy's neck and chest. Half his body was in the water and swimming towards them. He raised his head so his voice could project across the room.
"This is the deal," Mercy called out, "and this is generous. I am a man of God, and God knows no cruelty."
"Look at you, you ugly piece of shit," Ram shouted. "You're ugly as a goiter!"
Pathfinder punched Ram directly in the stomach. "Silence!"
Ram hit the wet floor, and felt every bit of air in his lungs fired out of his mouth. He was brought back in the moment when a partially eaten breast bubbled up to the surface and bumped into him.
"I make no deals," Pathfinder said. "The only deal is you're dead, you fish stick!"
Mercy couldn't make any other expression besides cunning and hunger. "Then that's that. I wanted to offer you the chance to slit your own throats and die in the water, and then we'd eat you. I guess we're just going to eat you raw! Here comes blood and pain!"
Ram, and everybody else, was about to open fire on Mercy when a new rush of water shot through the double doors and completely flooded the area. The four could only brace themselves as a new fleet of threats assaulted the convention room.
War was about to break.
Shooting Fish in a Barrel
The convention room became an insane wave pool of terror. Ram lost track of everybody. He had hold of a red space gun, and his other arm paddled against the hard-hitting current. When the surge of water calmed, and he was belly deep in water, Ram could see what horrors had entered the room.
Hundreds of shark men and women were on the attack. The disfigured fish were ravenous. Jaws clacked at the water, as their gills spit out spurt after spurt of water. Their bodies moved like a school of fish, paddling fast, and charging in for the kill.