by Colin Weldon
Tyrell’s head began to spin.
“Survivors?” Tyrell said.
“Yes, Tyrell, survivors. You have no memory at all?” Carrie said.
Tyrell placed his hand on his head. He could feel the onset of a migraine. He felt weak. He was hungry.
“I remember leaving Mars. I remember the ship crash landing. I remember being in my lab. The broken container. Then...” he paused as the image of The Black entering his mouth made him wince.
He looked up at Carrie. The whites of her eyes began to fill with an inky black fluid. Tyrell recoiled and almost lost his footing. He fell against the back wall and flattened himself against it. He knew what it was that was looking at him now.
“You’re not, Carrie,” he said feeling his hands begin to shake.
“Now we are getting somewhere,” Carrie said smiling.
Was this how he had looked while possessed by the alien liquid? What had he done while under its control?
“I don’t understand. The Black killed everything it encountered. All organic material was liquefied on contact,” Tyrell said.
“Yes, well, clearly, we’re past that now, Tyrell, aren’t we? I would have hoped that there had been some transference from the bonding, but obviously there is no residual thought left when we merge with your form of life. Perhaps, in time, you will recall our time together. The others have left me with a choice. To kill you...” she said looking at him “Or to keep you alive. I had hoped that, being a scientist, you could be of some use to us, and that killing you now would be a waste of resources.”
“What others?” Tyrell asked trying to buy himself more time to figure out what to do.
“One thing at a time, Tyrell,” Carrie said, “The truth is, should I kill you now, it could cause,” Carrie paused, “complications.”
Tyrell had no idea what she was talking about, but was willing to do whatever she said to stay alive so thought it in his best interest to play ball. He raised his hands to her.
“Don’t kill me, I am no threat to you,” Tyrell said.
Carrie took another step towards him before moving past him and placing her hand on his shoulder. Tyrell tensed up. She squeezed his shoulder and looked to the restraints on the walls.
“Now you can either go into the tank,” she said looking behind him, “or you can stay quietly in here until we have further use for you.”
Tyrell looked at his once young and naive apprentice and knew that she was still in there somewhere, lost in a dark world.
“Don’t harm her,” he said to her suddenly.
Carrie, or whatever the thing inside her body was, smiled.
“Harm her, Doctor? We are going to be the most powerful force the universe has ever seen. I assure you, she is far better off with us than with you. Now be a good boy and stay here. Quietly,” she said turning to leave.
“Wait!” Tyrell shouted, “Let me out. I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”
Carrie looked back at him as she activated the exit mechanism.
“We’ll see,” she replied before stepping through the shimmering doorway and vanishing.
The wall solidified leaving Tyrell alone once again.
“Shit,” he said to nobody.
15:
THE AGATHON
“My name is John Barrington, I am the captain of this ship. It’s called The Agathon. We are ... we were, I should say, from a planet called Earth,” Barrington said to Tark’An.
Getting over the sheer absurdity of being able to communicate with this race, Barrington extended his arm out towards Boyett who still had her weapon pointed directly at Tark’An’s head.
“This is my first officer, Lieutenant Charly Boyett and my navigations officer, Lieutenant David Chavel,” he said introducing his crew.
He looked back at Tark’An.
“Have your crew lower their weapons, Barrington,” Tark’An replied quickly, “or people will start dying.”
Barrington believed him. He turned to Boyett.
“Do as he says.”
She looked at him raising her eyebrows.
“What?” she replied.
Barrington realised that she could not understand a word the alien was saying.
“Lower your weapons,” he said calmly.
“Sir?”
“Do it, Charly.”
Boyett sighed and nodded to Chavel to follow her lead. They lowered their weapons. Tark’An took a step towards the captain.
“Why do you have grey race weapons on board your ship?” Tark’An said to Barrington.
“Grey race?”
“Your weapons, where did you get them? And why are you orbiting a grey race world,” Tark’An said.
“I’m not familiar with the term ‘grey race’, but if you are referring to the race of beings who contacted us, then we are here because we were instructed to be here. They assisted in the arming of this vessel due to the Targlagdu threat in our galaxy. I don’t know what is on the planet below as our sensors cannot penetrate its shield,” Barrington said deciding that putting his cards on the table was probably the best way to go at this point.
He watched as he thought he saw something in Tark’An’s face change. The large alien looked to his right at the more aggressive looking of the group. He turned back to Barrington.
“You know of the Targlagdu?” Tark’An asked.
Barrington nodded his head. Tark’An seemed to take a deep breath.
“Where is your home world?” Tark’An asked.
“Destroyed by an unknown alien energy weapon. There was a malfunction in our FTL drive systems and our vessel was not protected from the time distortion. In this timeframe, it would’ve happened over a thousand years ago,” Barrington replied.
Tark’An suddenly bowed his head.
“How many people inhabited your world when it was destroyed?” Tark’An asked.
“Over twelve billion,” Barrington said not realising that a lump had started to form in his throat at the thought of it.
Tark’An turned and faced the other members of his group. His head was still bowed.
“You see now?” he said to the alien beside him.
The other alien did not respond. Barrington suddenly had a feeling he knew something about it. Tark’An turned back to face him.
“Where is the grey race?” asked Tark’An.
“On their way,” Barrington answered, “do you know something about why our planet was destroyed?”
Tark’An seemed to frown at the captain. His gaze drifted towards the floor once again, as if recalling something. Barrington noted that his expressions were not unlike human ones.
“I may,” Tark’An replied meeting Barrington’s eyes, “how prepared is your crew for combat?”
Barrington was taken aback by his comment. Was he about to attack?
“Combat with you?” Barrington replied wanting to get to the point quickly.
“You should know, Captain, that I was sent to destroy you,” Tark’An replied, “my son believes that meeting with you is a futile exercise.”
Tark’An looked to the alien on his left. His son’s eyes pierced Barrington’s.
“I’m curious as to why the grey race brought you here, and why they armed your vessel,” Tark’An said.
“I told you, it is to protect us against the ...” Barrington started but stopped when Tark’An raised his upper right arm silencing him.
“Yes, you did,” Tark’An said, “what did they tell you about the Targlagdu? Did they tell you how widespread they are? Did they tell you that they inhabit most of this galaxy?”
“Yes, they did,” Barrington said.
“Did they also tell you, Captain, that they created the Targlagdu?” Tark’An asked.
Barrington’s mouth opened.
“What?” Ba
rrington replied in shock.
“What is it, Captain,” Boyett said obviously sensing his reaction.
The yellow emergency lights flickered on and off. The moment seemed to last forever.
“Your planet,” Tark’An said, “was destroyed by a gamma particle based energy weapon?”
Barrington nodded his head.
“You couldn’t decode the signal beforehand?” Tark’An continued.
“No, we couldn’t. It was transmitted for over a hundred years. We found monuments, on other planets ... markers. We have been trying to work out what they meant,” Barrington said.
“My home world is called Ruthenium,” Tark’An said.
Barrington stared at him.
“Carrie said that is where the Signal Makers are, the ones who sent the signal, the ones that ...” he trailed off realising who this race was, “was it you?”
Tark’An did not react. Barrington began to get angry. A fury in his soul began to burn.
“Was it you?” he asked angrily.
“What is happening, Captain?” said Boyett.
Barrington ignored her. He looked up at the large frame of the alien. Tark’An looked as if he was about to respond when a violent impact threw the group hard against the wall. Barrington was sent crashing to the floor. His shoulder bore the brunt of the impact as he turned to see his crew tumbling around him on the deck. He looked for his weapon but it was nowhere to be seen. Tark’An had managed to remain on his feet and was leaning against the wall of the bulkhead. Another impact made the walls of the airlock vibrate. Sparks began to fly from the seal as a rushing sound began to fill Barrington’s ears.
“WARNING, AIRLOCK BREACH,” said the female computer voice.
Barrington felt his ears pop as the air pressure in the corridor began to change. Something had hit the ship.
“We are losing the seal!” Boyett shouted at the captain.
Barrington looked at Tark’An who was staring at the other alien beside him.
“We have to close the doors,” Chavel said from behind the captain.
Barrington turned to his crew.
“Evacuate now!” he shouted.
He turned back to Tark’An wondering why his people would shoot at his ship with them still on board.
“Bridge to docking bay, we’re being fired upon from the planet surface, the seals on the airlock are not responding. Get out of there, Captain,” came Ferrate’s voice over the comm system, which had obviously come back online.
There was chaos all around Barrington as the sound of air rushing out of the breach began to wash out the sound of people shouting. He clambered to his feet and watched as his crew began to run away from the docking seal.
“The airlock controls are non-functional, General, they will have to be sealed manually,” said the alien to Tark’An’s right.
“Then get on board and seal them. Break away from the ship,” Tark’An shouted to his men.
One of the aliens to the rear of the group immediately went back inside their shuttle craft. He was joined by a second. The pair began physically pulling the Agathon’s airlock door, which in turn began moving ever so slightly.
“There is a manual release behind that hatch!” Barrington said to Tark’An.
Tark’An nodded and moved swiftly to a panel next to the main door mechanism. He tore it open and began turning the revolving handle. His huge hands wrapped around the handle with ease. The door began to roll closed sealing two of the alien beings on the other side. After several seconds, it was shut leaving Tark’An and three of the aliens inside The Agathon. The air inside the corridor began to equalise as Tark’An and Barrington looked through the glass at the two members of the Tark’An’s boarding party who had gone inside. There was an explosive decompression. Barrington looked on as the two aliens were blown into space. Their now freezing corpses drifted underneath the ship, out of sight. Debris scattered across the window as the shuttle’s seal tore off from the outer hull. Barrington got to his feet and tapped the comm channel on his wrist.
“Bridge, report,” he said.
Another violent shock sent the group crashing into the side of the bulkhead again. The deck beneath Barrington’s feet rumbled as he felt the engines begin to fire. There was no answer from the bridge. He looked up at Tark’An.
“I think you better come with me,” he said to him not knowing what else to suggest after the sudden death of Tark’An’s crew mates and destruction of their shuttle.
Tark’An nodded.
“Very well,” he responded.
BRIDGE
The doors to the bridge opened and Barrington stepped through first. It was barely big enough to hold Tark’An, but Barrington didn’t want him going alone, so the pair had squeezed into it. On any other occasion, it would have been comical to witness. Not now. The bridge was in chaos. Sparks rained down overhead from broken electrical cabling. Ferrate was in the centre seat. Ripley seemed to be struggling at the flight controls. The doors closed as the lift went to collect the other members of his bridge crew. The view screens overhead showed the planet below. It was getting close.
“Report,” Barrington said moving to the centre of the bridge.
Ferrate turned to him and looked up at Tark’An.
“Jesus!” he said jumping out of the chair with a look of horror on his face.
Barrington looked back at Tark’An who had his arms crossed and was looking up at one of the view screens. Barrington could not be sure, but it looked like shock in his eyes. He followed his eye line and saw what he was looking at. One of the view screens showed a huge burning debris field crashing against the planet’s shield.
“Sir, the alien shuttles have been completely destroyed. We have multiple hull breaches from the explosion. Main power is still offline and we’re losing altitude,” Ferrate said staring up at the huge alien.
Barrington looked up at Tark’An. As he did so, the doors to the bridge opened again. The alien called Shri’An stepped off with Boyett. Barrington had no time to go into the strange situation that his bridge crew was suddenly faced with, so he stepped across the bridge and sat down in the centre seat. He looked back at Boyett.
“Do what you can,” he said to her as she sprinted over to the flight chair and nudged Ripley away from the controls.
“We have hull breaches on decks nine through thirteen. It’s mostly crew quarters,” Ferrate said, “I think we’ve lost some people, sir.”
Barrington grimaced.
“Charly, what are we looking at?” Barrington said to Boyett.
“Give me a minute, sir, she’s being a real bitch,” she replied.
There was a moment of silence as Barrington looked up at Tark’An.
“I have no control at all, sir, manoeuvring thrusters are at twenty percent, if we don’t get her levelled out, she’ll hit the orbiting shield,” she replied.
“I must use your communications system, Captain,” said Tark’An suddenly.
Barrington had no time to argue, he nodded to him then turned to Ferrate.
“Give Tark’An access to the communications system,” he said.
“The what?” Ferrate said from behind him.
“The big alien, Kevin, open communications!” Barrington shouted forgetting that he was still the only person who could understand him.
Ferrate obeyed as the lift doors opened again, this time depositing Chavel and the other member of Tark’An’s team to the bridge. He had to duck his head as he did so. Tark’An moved to the communications console and looked at the controls. He tapped some sort of data pad on his wrist and the communications panel began to react.
“Tark’An to Praxis, report,” he said.
Barrington looked at Ferrate who looked perplexed.
“Weapons fire from the planet, General,” came a growling voice on the other end.
“Pull both vessels back out of range and scan for orbiting cannons,” Tark’An said.
“Yes, General,” came the reply.
“Captain, I am showing a change in the planet’s shield. It appears that its molecular structure is shifting. I’m no longer reading it as solid,” Chavel said from the navigation station.
“Captain, our orbit is increasing,” Boyett said from the flight control.
Barrington looked at Shri’An again. His eye implant was showing that the alien’s heart rate was rocketing.
“Sir, main power is back online,” Chavel said.
Barrington immediately pressed his comm panel.
“Tosh, I need engines back up,” he said.
“Tosh here, thirty minutes Captain, we need to reboot the...” Tosh began.
“Just get it done, Tosh, bridge out,” Barrington said cutting the transmission.
“Captain, I have an odd energy reading from the...” Chavel started to say, “incoming!”
Barrington looked up at the view screen in time to see a bright blue shaft of light burst through the shield surrounding the planet and heading directly for them.
“Charly!” Barrington shouted.
“I’ve only got thrusters, sir,” Boyett said grabbing the controls.
“Hold on!” Barrington said.
The bridge vibrated as the energy pulse flew past.
“Report,” Barrington said.
“That was close, it just missed the hull,” Chavel said.
Barrington looked up at Tark’An.
“We’ll be out of range of their weapons momentarily, Captain,” Tark’An said calmly looking up at the view screens.
Barrington watched the planet regress, as both ships slunk away in tandem from whoever had decided to attack. He glanced to his right at the weapons locker then back at Tark’An wondering what his true intentions were. They were looking at the view screens overhead. He began running through multiple tactical scenarios in his mind and wondered how long it would take for Carrie to get here.
16
The night was perpetually still. A calm breeze gently caressed Carrie’s face as she looked out at the black ocean surrounding her fortress. It was quiet. The exterior lights shone brightly out into the endless void as she tried to think.