by CK Burch
″Rene! Rene, it's me! I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to try and get your suit back on!″ Her body was prone, spread eagle, and as he flipped her over he was reminded of a dead starfish he'd found on the beach once when he was a boy, how hard and brittle it had been from being out in the sun for so long. He turned her around until he found the manual reboot pad on the back of the suit and switched it on. The suit began to hum with life, and in a minute or so it would be back up and running and they could get the hell out of here.
Markov was knocked off balance from the side; something large had rammed into him. He turned and saw Kerrick. ″Found you, found you, found you!″ she yelled, and she tapped at his minipad, unlocking his boots. They both flew tumbling into the air.
″Kerrick!″ he shouted. They were wrestling with each other for the rifle on his back: Kerrick was reaching back with both hands and Markov had a tenuous grip on her wrists. She was fucking strong, insanely strong, which was precisely true. She was insane and every motor function was amped up on pure adrenaline. ″Kerrick! Let go!″
″No!″ she yelled. ″I hate you, daddy! I hate you!″
″I'm not your father!″ He let go for a moment and punched her in the ribs, cracking a couple, then reached back again and stopped when he saw the lean of her broken nose, the blood vessels burst and wicked in her eyes. She looked like a demon.
In his hesitation she moved again, faster than he thought, and she brought her forehead down on his helmet, once, twice, and his skull bounced around inside. He was dizzy from spinning, stunned from the blow, but he found her wrists again. ″Kerrick,″ he said, and heard the fatigue in his voice, ″I'm not your father. Listen.″ Markov could barely manage more than a wheezing groan. God, he was tired. He was worn, mentally and physically.
″You can't fool me!″ Kerrick said. She flashed her teeth, bloodstained as well. ″The others tried to fool me and I showed them! Now it's your turn!″
She wrenched herself free of his grasp and reached back and found the rifle. No choice. Markov found the plasma scalpel on his magbelt, turned it on and jammed it up through the bottom of her jaw. Kerrick's eyes widened, almost as red as her blood-dyed face, and suddenly she looked like a wounded little girl. Markov shoved the scalpel deeper, up through her tongue and into the roof of her mouth, cutting straight through, then pulled it out and stabbed it deep into the side of her skull. No choice. No chance. Kerrick just stared back at him, dumbfounded, a scolded puppy, and when he pulled the scalpel back out she floated away from him a dead woman.
Markov was breathing hard. Christ, he thought. That was too close. Too fucking close. God help me I should have done that in the first place. He turned off the scalpel and placed it back on his magbelt, then turned and found himself close enough to the ceiling to kick off from it. He floated down next to Fleur and waited as her suit came back to life. Her face reappeared on the helmet display, and thank god: she was crying. She was alive.
″Gordon!″ she cried, and as her suit finally allowed her to move she threw her arms around his neck and held him close. ″Oh Gordon! I thought I was going to die like that! Oh my god! Oh god!″
″It's okay, it's okay,″ he said. He held her close. Everything was alright again. Whatever happened next didn't matter. She was with him again. ″Everything's okay.″
Fleur looked up and saw Kerrick floating above them. ″Her again?″
″I know. She was completely gone this time. Thought I was her father. I didn't want to kill her but it was her or me.″ Floating up next to Kerrick was his pulse rifle, which she'd pulled free during their struggle. ″Shit. Well, I'm not going up there just to get the gun. Hopefully we won't need it.″
″Gordon, we're going to have to be extremely careful,″ Fleur said.
″What? Why do you say that?″
″Gordon, that radiation has been working at everyone on this ship. Not just her.″ She looked up at Kerrick. ″If she was as far into madness as that, anyone else on this ship could have. Violently. Gordon, if we run into anyone else – ″
″Everyone else is fine, Rene. It's going to be okay.″
″No, no.″ She shook her head. Was she frightened? ″Gordon, we have to check their perspective awareness. If anything seems wrong, or out of place, we need to make sure that they can't harm us. Or else...″ She looked up at Kerrick again.
Markov tried to assimilate what she was saying. ″Are you asking me to kill anyone else that presents an affected mindset? Is that what you're asking?″
″Gordon, all I'm saying is – ″
The comm cut in. ″Captain Markov, this is Sergeant Laguardia, come in, sir.″
″This is Captain Markov. It's good to hear you, Sergeant.″
″God damn is it good to hear your voice, sir. We've had a hell of a time out here.″
Markov frowned. ″What's happened?″
″Captain Udeh's dead. Kerrick murdered him. Mac is dead. Collins went crazy, chased after Straub and nearly killed him. It's just us two here in the shuttle bay. We're on the Captain's Boat of the Prometheus, preparing for launch.″
″Jesus Christ.″ That's what Kerrick had meant. The others tried to fool me and I showed them! Sweet Jesus Christ, she'd killed his friend. It was his fault. If he'd taken Kerrick out when he'd had the chance, Udeh might still be alive. There was a pain in Markov's belly, his old friend grief striking hard and fierce. Okwudili Udeh. One of his best friends. Jesus fucking Christ, and it was his fault. Fleur was right. Anyone exhibiting these symptoms had to be taken care of. Because if Kerrick had been this dangerous, if any of them could be this dangerous...fuck. But could he do it?
He looked at Fleur.
Yes. He would have to. He just hoped to god that neither Laguardia or Straub would turn like Kerrick had. The chances were slim. But they were there.
″Sir?″ Laguardia.
″I'm here. I'm – I'm sorry, Sergeant. Captain Udeh was an old friend.″
″I'm sorry, too, sir. He saved my life. I owe him.″
Markov nodded. ″Okay. Anything else I need to know, Sergeant?″
″There's a group of fucking aliens here in the bay with us sir, but they seem to be fixated on the wreckage of one of the shuttles, eating up the flames. I wouldn't count on them being distracted like that for long, though.″
″Okay. I'm with one of the survivors in the cargo bay. We're on our way to – ″ He stopped. Something rumbled near his feet.
″Sir?″
″One second.″ He looked at Fleur, but she was looking past him at the artifact. He turned around.″″Oh my god.″
Something came out of the artifact. Something big, wide, and thick on the very end like a flower bulb. It split open into three thick leaves, each one the size of a man, each one covered in suction cups. In the middle of the bulb was a massive beak, yawning open and shut listlessly. It dripped slimy pus from the leaves.
″Open the bay doors! Launch!″ he shouted.
Markov grabbed Fleur's hand and they turned to run.
***
Straub entered the control room. Ten feet away, happily staring at him, was his dead fiancee.
Hello, Stephen, Sarah said. Her lips moved, but her voice did not come from them. Her whisper was behind his right ear, the one she always used to breath softly into to arouse him. She looked beautiful. She always did, always looked better than he remembered. His memories of her never ever captured how gorgeous she was in real life, and now she stood before him wearing her favorite dress, which also happened to be his favorite dress, the navy blue one which cut across her shoulders revealing her clavicle, the thin skirt swooping about and catching on her thighs. He inhaled sharply, smelled her scent, sweet and cedar, apple blossoms and vanilla. He sighed softly, not wanting the scent to go away. Her hair came down just past her small, firm breasts, and he was filled with a deep, aching sense of wistfulness.
She's dead, he reminded himself. But she wasn't. Not here, not like this. She was standing right in front of
him. She's in my mind.
I've missed you, she said, the soft tones of her voice like velvet.
Straub took a deep, long breath and turned away from her, operating the console. He found the docking system and released the Captain's Boat from the docking clamp.
Aren't you going to at least say hello? she asked. I've been waiting for so long just to see you, Stephen. Won't you at least speak to me?
He closed his eyes. She's not there, she's not there, she's not fucking there. And yet his senses were telling him that, yes, she fucking was: she smelled like Sarah, spoke like Sarah, looked exactly like Sarah. It was everything he could do to not turn and run to her, to embrace her and take off his helmet and kiss her deep and hearty like he used to, like he'd wanted to with Sydney but couldn't, like he'd wanted to with other women but couldn't, because there was no one like Sarah. There was only Sarah. Only always had been.
He looked at her as the docking clamp pulled back away from the Captain's Boat. There was a trembling in the floor beneath him, but it wasn't from the clamps; it was something else, but he couldn't tell what.
″I'm sorry, Sarah,″ he said. God, he could barely say her name. ″But you're not really here. You're just a part of my mind. I have to go now.″
Sarah kept smiling, but she started to cry, too. She'd always had a brave face. Always smiled no matter what, found a way to laugh even in the worst of times. And this was the worst. Aren't you going to say goodbye?
Straub felt himself start to cry, but he tamped it down. He hated to do that but he'd cried enough for her once, and he felt that if he cried anew it would slip his tenuous hold on reality and he would fall into the illusion. ″I already said goodbye once,″ he said. ″I don't have another one to give you.″
She nodded. I understand.
She seemed so real. She could be real if he just stayed. He would be happy with her. Maybe only for a short time, but he'd be happy with her. And also insane. Completely gone. He thought of Gaines, Mac, Kerrick, Collins. Udeh and his claustrophobia. So many different reactions to the radiation flooding their systems, making them see, feel, experience different things. He stared at his hallucination, the love of his life, and watched her until he forced himself to turn away and he walked quickly down the platform.
The whole shuttle bay rocked back and forth. He stopped; what the fuck was that?
Laguardia came on the comm. ″Straub, time to get the fuck out of here!″
He started to run along the landing platform as another violent shudder rocked the bay again. He nearly fell off despite the maglocks. What the fuck was doing that? Then he remembered the star-eater and he felt pure terror sink deep into his belly and nearly halt his movements. Instead he ran harder.
At the Captain's Boat, he leapt from the platform into the Boat – the Boat had drifted a few feet away from the ramp – and landed in front of Laguardia, already strapped down in her seat. ″The captain's coming!″ she shouted. ″He's on his way! Open – ″ Another shudder rocked the ship again, violently slamming the platform against the Boat. Laguardia’s helmet bounced off the bulkhead behind her and she fell forward and was silent, out cold.
″Shit!″ Straub leapt to the pilot's seat, sat down, and waited. What was he supposed to do? Open the bay doors? But the atmospheric pressure might suck the captain out into space. Holy fuck. He didn't know what to do.
Straub turned and saw the captain enter the bay. Then he saw what was behind the captain. Straub hit the open command on his minipad and activated the Boat's thrust. He had one more idea that just might work, and this time he actually started praying.
***
It had followed Markov and Fleur through the corridor, slowed only by its massive girth shoving relentlessly through the narrow squeeze. It was too fucking big to fit with ease but it kept shoving itself through, rocking the whole damn ship back and forth, screaming and roaring as it chased its prey, the leaves slapping open and shut with wet noises, its beak clack-clack-clacking with rapid fire report.
″Don't look back!″ Markov shouted. He still had Fleur by the hand as they stumbled through the corridor, trying to keep their balance against the thing's movements. ″Keep running! Keep running!″
They stepped out into the shuttle bay. Markov saw the Captain's Boat up ahead, saw the shuttlecraft wreckage in front of him – holy shit, all those creatures on top of it – and then the shuttle bay doors began to open. The suction almost lifted him from his feet, but the magboots held. The Boat moved forward and began to position itself between them and the opening doors as the wreckage started to shudder, pulled into the vacuum. He turned around; the fucking thing was almost upon them. No time to do anything but leap.
″Boots! Now!″ Markov turned off his boots and Fleur did the same and they were helplessly lifted away, spinning over and over, still holding on to each other. Markov saw the wreckage pull away from the dock and fly towards the fully open bay doors. The Captain's Boat dipped to avoid it, then bobbled back and forth, trying to stay in Markov and Fleur's pathway to catch them. Crawlers were slapping against the side of the Boat impotently, some of them bursting. They were flying fast, too fast, probably going to miss the Boat, and Markov kept his eyes on the hull but didn't think –
His body slammed into the hull of the Boat. He quickly turned on his boots and stuck to the side of it, still holding on to Fleur's hand. ″Rene!″ he shouted, and she reactivated her boots and they turned to walk along the hull into the Boat. The thing had finally squirmed out of the corridor and was still coming, extending towards them, snapping open and shut, open and shut. It was almost to the Boat.
Markov clicked on the comm. ″Straub! Go!″ He pulled Fleur inside and then turned and activated the door icon. The last thing he saw as the door closed was the open shuttle bay pulling away from them rapidly, the thing's arm finally at its length, waving back and forth in the vacuum as the Icarus slowly became smaller and smaller.
The docking door closed entirely. They were safe.
″Activating artificial gravity and atmosphere,″ Straub said over the comm. Markov felt his own weight for the first time in what felt like a long time. He switched off his boots and pulled his helmet off. Air. Fresh, recycled air. Thank fucking god.
Fleur pulled her helmet off too and took a deep breath. She smiled; she laughed. She began to cry. So did he.
″How's Laguardia?″ Straub shouted from the front.
Markov took Laguardia's helmet off, felt her pulse; she was okay. He gently touched the back of her head and felt a nice big bruise. ″She's knocked out, but alive. She'll be just fine.″
″Gordon,″ Fleur whispered. ″Are we okay?″
″Rene, we're fine! We made it!″ He reached out and cupped her chin and kissed her lips. It was a soft peck, but it was warm and sweet.
She looked nervous. She looked up at the front, towards Straub. They could see the back of him in the pilot's chair from here. He was busy navigating the ship.
Markov guessed what she was thinking. ″Rene,″ he said. ″Straub is okay. He's fine.″
″Are you sure?″ Her lower lip trembled.
″I'm sure.″
″Gordon.″
He smiled. ″Rene. Here, I'll go talk to him. I'll make sure. But I promise you: everything's okay now. Okay?″
She nodded. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes and laughed briefly. ″I'm sorry. I'm just nervous. I just want to be sure that we're safe.″
Markov kissed her forehead. ″Nothing's going to happen, my love. We're fine. We're finally safe.″
***
Straub leaned back in the pilot's chair and stretched and thought of Sarah. He thought of the solidarity of her, how real she had seemed to him. God, if only. If only it could have been true. But he'd managed to resist his mind and fight off the madness. He felt good. He felt safe. He took his helmet off and ran his gloved fingers through his thick hair, slick and damp from so much fucking sweat, and he laughed. It was a short, low chuckle that turned into a
belly laugh that lasted only a few seconds but felt good. God. He didn't think it could feel so good to be here. He hadn't been sure that they were going to make it.
He thought about Doctor Tybalt. About Sydney Kerrick, Captain Udeh, Chief MacConnel. None of them were here. There were others, the entire crew, and none of them were here. All of them gone just for that fucking piece of alien rock that they'd found floating in space. On one hand, thank god they'd found it when they had; imagine if it had fallen into the Sun. If that thing had started eating their Sun. Who knows how long it would have been before the star had lost density and fusion, and had become like the dead star that had been on the other end of that void? That was the perfect word for the artifact: void. There was nothing inside of it. Only death and emptiness.
Straub was startled from his thoughts as Markov slapped him on the shoulder. ″How're you doing, son?″ the captain asked.
″Honestly?″ Straub held up his hand. It was shaking. ″I'm still coming off the adrenaline. But all things considered, I'm fine.″ He touched his face; the scratch marks that Kerrick had left still ached. ″At least, I think so.″
Markov looked at the wound. ″It's not bad. And it could have been worse, Straub. It almost was for me.″
″What happened?″
Markov shook his head. ″Insane. That's what it was like. You saw that thing, too.″
″Yeah, from afar. You saw it up close. That must have been a helluva thing.″
″I'll tell you for a moment there...you know what, fuck it. I don't want to think about that shit right now. Right now I want to get to safety and find a sonic shower. What's our course look like?″
Straub turned back to the navigation console. ″Based on the data that you took from observation, we have a course plotted for Outpost 12, should take us twenty-four hours, maybe less if we make good speed. I haven't sent out a distress call yet, I'll need to try and fix the comm that Mac fucked up – ″
Markov blinked. ″Mac? He was the reason it wasn't working?″