Hurry.
He received no further instructions, but instinctively turned down the grey hallway, scanning as he went. Eleven life signs. Some weak. Some fluctuating. Some, hell, he couldn’t even figure it out. He set the proximity beacon and followed it, despite his certainty this couldn’t lead to anything good.
..................
The hallway ended in a T-section. To the right, black scars clawed across the smooth curved surface of the walls, beyond that, the hall stopped. Dead air. Dead station. He paused and frowned. His report hadn’t been entirely accurate. This laser damage was done from the inside.
Why? Were they shooting at each other … or something else? He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on the beacon. Eleven more people were on this station and he had to get them out. Now, before Severinson worked himself free.
He told his throbbing leg to move, and jetted past the junction. About five hundred feet later, a doorway to the right stood open. The beep and whirr of machinery and the stench of vinegar and stale body odor assaulted his nostrils. His steps faltered and he quashed the smell by placing an arm across his nose as his eyes stung. The proximity alarm beeped. If they were alive after all these years, they were just ahead and reeking like hell.
Help me.
A quick glance back assured him Severinson hadn’t followed – yet. Coop rushed into the room before he could change his mind and skidded to a halt. A row of chrome-white pods lined the wall, fourteen or so of them. They seemed to be lit from inside. He approached the nearest one, looked inside its icy green face shield and gasped in a breath. Every hair on his body stood on end as his stomach heaved. This. Wasn’t. A. Good. Way. To. Die.
Kill me.
Shriveled. Blanched. Contorted. He could barely describe the face with closed eyes and a hint of a mouth and nose as having once been human. Or ever alive. It looked pickled in its own juices, as though the life had been sucked out slowly and painfully over time, leaving a perfectly preserved corpse. The kind of mummy you find in a space-port gaming deck that spits out your –
never very accurate – fortune. He recoiled, his shoulders curling inward in self-protection.
Kill me. Hurry. Before he escapes.
Black wires and pumps connecting the unit to what he guessed was the dedicated stasis computer drew his attention up, and then over to the next unit. And the next. And the next.
Curiously, the further down the row he went, the fresher the human specimens seemed to look.
The one on the end opened its eyes and mouthed the words, help me.
Coop jumped back, staring. The damn thing was still alive! Human! The man’s three
neighbors opened their milky-grey coated eyes as well, and gazed passively at him. They’d apparently reached a different stage of acceptance than their buddy at the end of the line, who was now weakly pounding a fist against his pod’s front panel.
Please. You promised.
Coop swallowed hard and reached a hesitant hand toward the release latch.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Severinson.
He pivoted, but not fast enough. The brilliant silver flash from the old man’s weapon stretched out between them like a shiny diamond bracelet that cut right into his shoulder, leaving behind the stench of burned meat.
He howled and made to grab it, but thought better of the idea and snatched up his pistol instead. He leveled it at Severinson. The two of them froze in an equally armed stalemate.
Severinson tilted his head like a dog sniffing for blood and put on the demeanor of an old professor. An eerie combination. “You see, once the pods are connected, they are inter-connected. That is, they are shared energy ports. One cannot be disconnected without the others going offline.” His smile was jagged around the edges. “We designed them that way.”
Coop adjusted his aim as his mind raced to put the pieces together. Mostly he listened to his gut. “You mean you designed them that way.”
Severinson shrugged. “If you wish to get technical, I had help. It does not matter who did the job, only that the technology worked.” He took a step closer, still aiming at Coop. “Don’t you see what we’ve done here? We’ve created a bio-synthetic symbiosis between humans and—”
“It looks to me like you’ve killed people. A lot of people.”
He shook his head. “Killed, no. Sacrificed, yes. You see she needs to feed…”
Coop kicked the pistol’s setting up a notch, from medium to high. “No. You see. Either you put down that gun and come peacefully, or I’ll—”
“What? Kill me? Oh dear, I do think you overestimate your control over this situation.”
Hurry! I can’t hold it off much longer. He’s too strong.
A panel behind Severinson burst open, and white tendrils scurried out. They sprawled past Severinson’s legs and headed right for his. Coop fired a few shots at them, doing a side-stepping tap dance to avoid the worst of the attack. Uh, some help would be nice here.
Another panel opened right above Coop. The tentacles swarmed down on him from above in a white undulating frenzy of motion. He lashed out with his arms, trying to sweep them away.
But they were fast. So fast. So many.
One latched onto his left leg and yanked. He fell on his back. It knocked the wind out of him so hard his chest ached. Soon more tendrils attached and began to lift his body upward. With a grunt of pain he raised his good arm and fired three rounds at the ceiling panel above him.
Severinson screeched as the panel blackened and smoked, “No! Don’t hurt her! You don’t understand!”
The tendrils retracted, dropping Coop to the floor on his ass.
Severinson dropped his weapon, flung himself to his knees, and stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed. “No… No. You shouldn’t have done that. You’ll make her angry…”
Coop got an empty, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His mind flashed on those laser marks down the hall. Fired from the inside…
“You can’t kill her…” Severinson whispered. “You can’t stop her.”
Please.
Wired from the nervous energy of almost being killed and picturing his future death in a white chrome tube, Coop needed to shoot something – something he could kill. He cranked his already hot pistol up to maximum power and aimed. All indications were he’d be doing them a favor.
“Noooooooooo!”
His shots ripped through the oldest five pods.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
The face-shields splintered into flying shard projectiles. Pale green liquid cascaded down the fronts of the tanks. Alarms pealed as smoke billowed out the top connectors and sparks arced from tank to tank. Flaccid bony corpses flopped out when the safety releases unlatched.
In a sudden rush to preserve life, Severinson ran toward them, but catching the slippery bodies was akin to catching a wet fish in the mud. He went down in the goo, and the bodies sprawled in a heap on top of him.
Coop would have laughed at the futility of his efforts, but his shoulder hurt like fuck.
The small room began to fill with smoke. He risked another look at the remaining pods to see if he could find anyone salvageable. The one on the end – the one that had talked to him, closed his eyes and smiled as the tank’s wiring short-circuited. In seconds he’d be dead. Electrocuted. A much quicker death.
Thank you.
On his hands and knees and covered with goo, Severinson was swearing. “I can’t believe you did it.” He turned a scathing scowl at Coop. “You’ve ruined everything.” He slapped his sticky hands on his thighs. “You idiot.”
“Get up.” Coop was in no mood for philosophical games. He needed a med-pack and he
needed it now. “I’m taking you to my ship. Don’t try any funny stuff.” He motioned Severinson towards the door. “Let’s go. Your time’s up.”
The crazy old scientist stared off into space for a few seconds, before snapping out of the daze. “Yes. Yes it is...” He go
t up, slipped, fell, and got shakily to his feet again.
Coop had a hard time keeping his own feet under him – the damn stasis liquid had coated the entire floor – and found himself sliding more than walking. The effort to keep upright had him sweating and grunting, his nerves on edge with frustration and pain. He took aim at the control panel and blasted it a few times. The alarms quieted. There. At least he could think. He spared a last look back at the pods from the doorway and felt sorry for the old chaps. They’d been duped in the worst possible way. By the madman in front in him. He grimaced at the indecent treatment
– none of the crew had signed up for this — and he aimed his pistol at Severinson’s midsection, looking for any reason to shoot. “Move!”
The man pointed to the furthest away of his former dying teammates. “Bernard was the worst you know, always had to fight against me. Now his meddling’s fucked us all.”
He waved the gun at Severinson. “It looks to me like you’ve already fucked everyone here a good one.”
“Sacrifices had to be made. That was the deal. Now that we’ve broken it…” Severinson
moved out of the doorway and headed for the T intersection, “there isn’t much point in sticking around to watch the messy end.” He took off at a run, his skinny legs carrying him much faster than Coop could have imagined possible.
“Hey! Get back here!” He powered forward, nearly catching up to him at the grey hallway intersection.
But not before Severinson had rushed full-force at the containment shield covering the hull breach. The field flashed, once, twice, and hissed out a warning:
“Spatial containment field in operation. Entry not advised. Please state name and rank to initiate override protocols.”
“Hey!—” he aimed his pistol toward the old man and pulled the trigger. Brilliant yellow parks spewed off the containment field, and for a second, intense light burned his retinas. Once he could see again, he spied the crazy bastard – still alive - scrunched up against the opposite wall as though he might slip through the smallest crack any second.
“Severinson, E-2, Authority CC-Echo. Override. Beta.”
Coop instinctively took a step back. Coming too close to pure space never seemed like a good self-preservation technique to him.
The field brightened and a sliver of it weakened right around Severinson, who spared him a backward look. “It’s too late now. Wouldn’t want to be you. Sorry I can’t stay.”
“No!” Coop rushed toward the slit to grab him, but it was already too late. Severinson had been sucked out into the empty vortex of space. His mouth hung open, frozen and full of space instead of air as his body floated away from the station toward a never-ending silent grave.
Coop cursed, shoved his pistol back into the holster and ran for the dock as the station began to tremble and shake around him and the containment field began to flicker and flash.
..................
“Computer, disengage docking clamps and lock doors. Engage primary drive. Prepare for
take off.”
The computer beeped as he flipped open the drive panel and grabbed the controls.
“Docking clamps disengaged. Dock doors secured.”
“Engage engines.”
Coop eased the throttle open to gain full separation from the station and made for open space.
He had to get enough room between his ship and that damn station to do what he wanted to do.
Hell, what he needed to do.
He ground his teeth and ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. Fuck, that had been damn close. Severinson’s body floated through the view screen field and his gaze automatically tracked to it. Demented. The guy looked demented even in death. Keeping those people alive –
half dead – for some scientific experiment? Why?
A thought occurred to him. A nasty one. He needed proof, evidence, if he wanted to get paid.
Even though the thought made him sick. A single extender clamp ejected from the front of the ship. Working the controls, he managed to snag a corner of Severinson’s clothing. Enough to hold him. Slowly, he reeled the body into the ship’s small docking bay.
Once it was in and he closed the hatch, he didn’t bother to go investigate. That could wait.
Till the urge to toss the body and back into space or kick it all night subsided, at least. Besides, Severinson wasn’t going anywhere.
He turned the ship around, his lips curled tight with disgust. It seemed to take forever to get the hell out of this place. When he finally achieved optimum range, he brought the ship back around, weapons charged.
It would be better this way. The authorities could notify the families that he’d found nothing salvageable on the station and they’d accept the loss as just another casualty of war. A win-win situation as far as he was concerned. Those bodies wouldn’t make for very nice funerals anyway.
The gun-ports activated, his finger hovered over the Fire button. Blowing this station to the four corners of the universe would be his pleasure. He only wished Severinson was alive and still in it.
Fire.
The volley left the ship. Six small homing bombs, scattered array. He targeted the heart of the station hoping to hit fuel reserves. Payday.
As always, a wave of self-preservation seized him as he ticked off the seconds to detonation, and he throttled backward just a little bit farther to ensure he could ride out the shockwaves without taking damage. No way did he want to end up floating around with a mouth full of space when his shields failed.
Satisfied the ship was safe, he sat back to watch the destruction and aftermath, mesmerized by the floating debris. Until he thought he saw a white blob with dozens of white tentacles emerge from the center of the station.
Shit.
He jerked the controls and looked back at the debris. The white blob was gone. An icy grip circled his core. He didn’t like no damn space ghosts. “Computer, Speed Five.”
“Speed Five. Confirmed.”
“Lay in return course, Almaren Prime. Engage.”
“Course engaged.”
He sat back in the chair and let the pressure of the gravity hold him down and reassure him he was whole and real. And sane.
The job was over. All he had to do now was get back, unload that crazy shithead Severinson, and get paid.
..................
Days later, Coop awoke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but must have, just for a solar hour or so. In that time, he’d cleared a portion of the small galaxy and left the former station far, far behind. So how come his shoulders were still tensed hard as rock?
“Repeat. Almaren Prime calling Astral Horizon, over.”
Relief to talk to another person eased his anxiety as he answered the hail. “Coop here. Go ahead, Almaren.”
“Astral, we got your message and we’ve got a bit of a situation here. The families have requested they meet your ship upon arrival. In fact, they’re already queuing up at the landing dock. Over.”
That threw him. “Do you know why?”
“They seem to want some kind of confirmation that their family members are dead as you claim. Perhaps by meeting you, they will achieve some sort of closure. Over.”
Now that was a terrible idea if he’d ever heard one. What was he supposed to do? Assure them he’d blown their loved ones to bits after finding their rotting bodies trapped in suspended animation? Good God.
Hungry. So hungry.
Coop spun in his chair, his arms shaking like leaves in a hurricane. What the hell? He resisted the urge to smack the side of his head and see if his implant fell out. “Must be short-circuiting,” he muttered. “I’m hearing echoes.”
“Astral Horizon, are you there?”
“Yes, sir. I am. Sorry for the delay.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Look, I don’t know what to tell those people that’s gonna make them feel any better.”
“Well, I suggest you think of something, Captain. It’s been a long
war, and these people need some hope. Contact me when you’ve had an epiphany. Almaren out.”
“Great.” He switched off communications, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Almaren Prime was the closest planet, but if he had enough fuel, he might just make it to Elyon, and forget this whole business for a while. He didn’t need the pay that badly… He’d find another way to eat even if he had to return to running guns for the war effort.
Lost in thought, a tiny tap on his shoulder fractured his world. He flew from the chair and did an about-face, his heart pounding hard enough to split his chest open. A single white tendril retracted back into the ceiling panels. His hand automatically clutched the pistol, aiming, though no way could he shoot his ship without kissing his ass goodbye. “What the hell?” he growled.
Hungry. Take me with you.
“No. Hell no!” Coop shoved the pistol back in his belt and drew out his serrated blade. His blood boiled, eager to kill. “Come out and let’s finish this, you bastard.”
The hum of the engines filled the silence for several long seconds. He watched the panels, watched the floor, watching for the attack. Nothing happened. His nerves frayed. “Get out here you chicken-shit! Fight me, or leave my ship.”
A rumbling swish sounded above him seconds before the ceiling panels crashed down. The entire creature filled the crawlspace, a hundred white tentacles reaching toward him. He slashed with the knife, got as many as he could. But they overwhelmed him, backing him into the control panel. The knife fell to the floor, his hand immobilized, squeezed numb by the tentacles.
Severinson understood my needs. You can too.
“N-no. No!” Coop screamed as the milky white tentacle plunged through his open mouth
and wriggled down his throat. After a few more joined the first, he could hardly scream at all.
..................
Four months later, the craft touched down at Almaren Prime’s once flourishing port of Durin.
Almaren’s prime minister, Poxu Rani, was the first to greet him.
“Welcome, captain. I’m pleased you arrived safely.” He leaned closer to whisper in Coop’s ear. “The families are waiting down below. I hope you have a plan.” Poxu Rani straightened, clapped a hand on Coop’s shoulder and smiled. “Come, I’ll escort you.”
Tentacles: An Anthology Page 2