by Ron Schrader
When the blast door opened, he stepped off the bridge. There was movement down the dimly lit corridor, so he froze. His breathing was slow and deep as he stared at the dark shapes in the distance. Satisfied they hadn’t taken notice yet, he turned and closed the blast door behind him. When he spun around again, the general unholstered both of his pistols, and called out, “Hey, you.” As expected, the dark mass began rapidly moving toward him.
He fired several rounds at the oncoming threat, but the mass continued its forward motion, unfazed. He glanced down the connecting corridor, which appeared to be clear of any threat, and then he turned back to the fast-approaching Vie. Rather than stay to finish the fight, unsure whether he could handle multiple creatures at once, he chose to retreat.
He fired another succession of rounds at the Vie, unloading both pistols in the process, and ducked into the adjacent corridor, running at full speed until he reached the first intersection. He turned the corner and pressed his back up against the wall and reloaded both pistols. Before the spent clips hit the floor, he was already scanning the corridor to make sure it was clear. The lights flickered, making it difficult to know for certain, but it appeared to be free of Vie. Satisfied for now, he began a brisk walk down the hall and toward the docking bay.
The general hadn’t gone ten meters before glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed, which he continued periodically until he reached the next intersection near the crew’s quarters. He wondered if there might possibly be others still alive on the ship. Maybe some of the crew managed to lock themselves in their rooms, he thought. But the devastation around him painted a very different picture.
Bullet holes in the walls, broken glass across the floor, doors twisted and bent, and the blood splatter all around were clear signs that the Vie had been here. The scene sent a chill up his spine, but it wasn’t the blood and wreckage that bothered him most. As he scanned the area, he was unable to locate a single body. Were they all eaten, or did they turn into those things? he wondered.
“No wonder this ship’s so screwed up,” he blurted out.
Trying not to let anything bother him, the general continued until he reached an open stairwell. He leaned cautiously over the rail and could see down to the bottom. He just needed to make it down undetected and the docking bay would be within reach.
He made his way to the entrance of the stairwell and glanced over the railing one last time, making sure it was safe, then slowly began his descent. About halfway down the first flight of stairs, he failed to see a metal rod that lay on the step in front of him. His boot connected with it perfectly, though, and sent it over the edge where it clattered its way to the bottom of the stairway. He knew the echo would alert any nearby Vie to his presence, which meant he had to move fast.
He remembered what his bare hands had done to the rail on the bridge. Without another thought, he jumped over the stairway railing and dropped a full thirty meters to the metal floor below. He landed in a crouched position, facing the short corridor that led to the docking bay.
After a quick look to make sure his path was clear, the general began to sprint. Screeching noises filled the air behind him, followed by the loud thunder of countless Vie heading his way, encouraging him to move faster.
The general paid little attention to the corridor, choosing instead to focus his energy on getting to docking bay. When he reached the outer bay doors, he was happy to see they were shut and still very much intact. He was equally pleased to find that the door control panel still worked, and a feeling of relief washed over him when the massive doors began to open.
“Hurry up,” he muttered, as the space between the doors slowly grew. The moment the gap was large enough, he slipped through and rushed to the control panel. There was a loud, almost grinding noise, and the doors began to shut again.
The general stepped away from the control panel and stared through the open gap, only to realize the doors weren’t closing fast enough, and an onslaught of Vie were only meters away from reaching the opening. He pulled both pistols from their holsters and into position, then unloaded them into the swarm, taking out several Vie in the process. But before he could reload, at least a dozen Vie made it through the gap. Those unable to clear the opening were crushed by the thick steel and powerful hydraulics.
He holstered his pistols and reached for his knife, but before his hand found the grip, he was knocked facedown to the cold metal floor. Then came the pain of claws and teeth tearing into his flesh.
The general yelled out in pain, and suddenly it seemed as though he’d been transported back home, to the time of his youth. He was lying in the sand while the familiar group of men took turns beating him. The rage inside him grew until he’d had enough. With all his strength, he pushed himself up off the ground, swinging his arms at the attackers, fists clenched.
Each swing made contact, and one by one his enemies fell to ground, writhing in pain from his powerful blows. When the fight was over, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm down. After taking several deep breaths, he reopened them again to find he was still on his ship, surrounded by dead and maimed Vie scattered about on the floor.
His hand found the grip of his knife with ease now. He pulled it from its sheath and knelt down next to the first Vie he found alive. Its neck appeared to be broken, and it no longer posed a threat to him. The general stared into its dark, red eyes. “Do you even know who I am?” he asked.
The creature could only hiss and squirm, unable to do anything else.
A brief feeling of remorse came over Quinn as he watched the helpless Vie. He positioned the point of his knife against its forehead. “I’m sorry,” he began to say, but stopped himself the moment the blade vanished. When the knife reappeared, dark red blood dripped down the metal surface. “Too bad,” he said, as he stood and moved to the next one.
After he finished the task, he stood up and wiped the blood from the knife blade and scanned the massive docking bay platform. Certain the threat had been eliminated, he returned the knife to its sheath and brushed himself off.
He walked briskly toward the center of the docking bay, where he could see the large opening that led into space, and felt mildly relieved to know that the pressure shield was still working properly. For a moment, he stared through the nearly invisible barrier, watching for a ship to arrive but none came.
Looking around the docking bay, he could see at least a dozen fighter jets that were perfectly capable of getting him safely to the planet below. But with the Directive ship close by, he knew that flying out in one of the fighter jets could send the wrong message. It was a big enough risk that he decided against it for now.
His problem was that he was trapped in the docking bay with a swarm of Vie between him and the bridge, and he had no way to monitor the enemy vessel. That left him with no choice but to wait and hope the Directive would send someone to investigate.
~
“What are the odds of that?” Davis said, as a navigation sensor alerted them to the large vessel that had been detected. “It’s still here,” he continued in disbelief.
“Seriously?” Kalla sat up in her chair and leaned over the control console to confirm there was in fact a large vessel near the coordinates Captain Wolfe had given them. “Well, either we just got really lucky, or this is all going to be a big waste of time.”
“So, what are you thinking?” Davis asked. “Might be risky to approach, but maybe if we send out a distress call they’ll let us dock.”
“Yeah, that’s really our only play,” Kalla replied. “It’s still a risk, but if they let us on, we’ll be fine.”
“And if they don’t?” Jarek said.
Kalla kept her eyes on the control display and stared at the image of the massive battleship. “Then we hope my ship’s fast enough to get us out of here before anything bad happens,” she replied. The cockpit fell silent, and she let her words sink in for a moment. “We’ll be fine,” she continued. “Let’s send the distre
ss call.”
“You sure about this?” Davis asked.
“Nope, but do it anyway.”
Davis shook his head and smiled. “Aye aye, captain,” he teased.
Kalla grinned at the remark as she stared out the cockpit at the ship. At this distance, it looked small and non-threatening, but she knew this was one of the biggest risks she’d ever taken in her life. All it would take is one missile and her ship would be gone. She started to regret the decision to send the distress call and announce their presence, but she didn’t speak up. Instead, she just watched as Davis sent it. There was no turning back.
“So now we just wait?” Jarek asked, standing behind Kalla with his hands on her shoulders.
She reached a hand up and grabbed one of his. “Yep, now we wait.”
~
Over five hours passed with no response to their distress call, and Kalla was done sitting and doing nothing. “I say we just go check things out,” she finally said in frustration.
Davis nodded. “I think you’re right. They should have done something by now.”
“Jarek?”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“I’ll bring us in slow, so keep an eye on the sensors,” Kalla said to Davis, taking over the flight controls. “If they do fire on us . . . well, I’ll do my best to keep us from blowing up.”
“That’s reassuring,” Davis said. “I’d like to not blow up today.”
As Kalla steered closer to the massive battleship she felt nervous excitement. Why the ship hadn’t responded or reacted in any way to the distress call, she didn’t know, but she still wanted to believe the general was on board, and would finally get what he deserved.
She began to imagine it, and as the scenario of revenge played out in her mind, she felt more and more anxious. Kalla pictured him on his knees. She would let him beg for mercy before plunging her dagger into his chest. Then, when he fell to the floor, she would watch him bleed out. She would let him suffer until the very end.
“Kalla!” Davis yelled.
“Yeah, I’m right here,” she said. “You don’t have to yell.”
“I didn’t yell, the first three times,” Davis replied. “You okay?”
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how I’m going to make him suffer. Then kill him,” she said to Davis.
“Kalla,” Jarek began, “maybe . . .” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he continued.
She squirmed in her chair and held her tongue while she gathered her thoughts. “But what he did to me . . .”
“He’s done bad things to us all,” Davis interrupted. “Jarek’s right though. You’re out for blood. I want him dead too, but . . .”
“But what? You don’t want vengeance? He almost killed you!”
“Yeah, but we’re all better than he is.” Davis said.
Kalla shook her head. “Have you both gone insane?”
“Jarek and I both agree that he needs to be stopped. But we could turn him over to the Directive, and when he’s gone, I still have friends under his command. People who’ll listen to me. We can end this without more violence.”
“Since when did you start trusting the Directive?” she said with a sneer. “You’ve been on the other side for how long?”
Davis dropped his gaze to the floor. “You’re right, Kalla, but they did just let us go.”
“Yeah, thanks to me,” she countered.
“Still, we should turn him over,” Davis said. “Let him spend the rest of his life locked up. Wouldn’t that be better anyway? Let him live out the rest of his life in a cell?”
Jarek knelt down next to her. “Look at me,” he demanded.
Kalla reluctantly made eye contact.
“For a long time, I felt empty. My reason for living was to hunt and destroy the Vie. I hated them as much or more than you hate the general. Then a crazy thing happened. I stumbled across a helpless girl who changed everything.”
Kalla felt her eyes begin to moisten, and a single tear made its way down her cheek. “He has to be stopped,” she managed.
Jarek nodded. “Just promise me that you’ll let us take care of it. Can you do that?”
She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face. “Alright,” she said.
“You know, you’re not doing this alone,” Jarek added, before he wrapped his arms around her.
“I know,” she whispered.
~
As they flew alongside the battleship, Kalla felt a mixture of emotions. She was anxious and excited at the idea of finally being rid of the general, but discouraged that she may not get to do things her way. She also felt uneasy by the fact that they still hadn’t received a response of any kind to the distress call. It felt off, and she didn’t like it. It almost seemed as though the ship had been abandoned. “Anyone else bothered by this?” she asked, having circled the ship once already, with no signs of life to be found.
“Maybe we should just try the docking bay,” Davis suggested.
“It did appear to be open when we passed by. You think it’s a good idea though?” she asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Davis replied.
Kalla nodded and steered her cruiser down toward the belly of the battleship. “There it is,” she said when the entrance came into view.
“Hard to know for sure from here, but it looks clear,” Davis said, as they approached.
“Yeah, but that almost bothers me more. Something’s not right here.” Her instincts told her to turn around and get as far away as possible, but her need for revenge spurred her on.
“Just take her in slow,” Davis coached, as the ship started to pass through the pressure shield.
“Hey. I’m not a rookie,” she shot back in an annoyed tone.
“Just trying to help,” Davis mumbled as he leaned back in his chair.
Once inside, Kalla could see dozens of landing platforms, most of them empty, and she chose one close to the docking bay exit. If they needed to get out quick, she didn’t want to have too far to go.
She hovered toward the platform until the ship was centered above it. Before landing, she pointed the nose of the cruiser toward the exit and then gently touched down. “Is there oxygen outside?” she asked.
Davis leaned forward and checked the external sensor. “Yeah, looks breathable. Levels are above eighty percent.”
“Eighty percent? Something’s definitely wrong here,” Kalla said, glaring out of the cockpit. She flipped a row of switches and shut the engines down.
“Not to mention the fact that no one’s come to greet us yet,” Jarek added.
“You sure about that?” Kalla asked, pointing to a figure in the distance.
C
HAPTER 19
General Quinn sat on a crate, huddled in a dark corner of a landing platform. He’d waited several hours, fully expecting the Directive ship would eventually send a team to investigate. But with each passing minute, his doubt grew, as did his patience. Was the Directive ship still even out there? he wondered. To know for sure, he would need to return to the bridge, and that meant dealing with more Vie.
Plan B had been to take one of the docked cruisers, get back to his base, and return with enough men to salvage the battleship. What he didn’t expect was for all the cruisers to be gone. There were still several small fighter jets on board, but he still felt that was too big a risk. Fighters were combat ships, and might be viewed as a threat, giving the Directive a reason to attack. So, for now, he chose to wait a little longer.
The silence on the docking bay left the general to his thoughts, and he remembered how resistant Kalla had been to the high doses of chloromex she’d been given. They’d had to continually increase the dosage just to keep her under. The thought intrigued him, and he unsheathed his knife.
The general held it up in front of him, and stared at the sharp blade for a moment. He reached his other hand up, and after hesitating, grabbed ho
ld of it. The sharp edge sliced through his flesh as he pulled the blade across his palm. Blood dripped from his clenched fist, but the pain was minimal.
He returned the knife to its sheath and pulled a bandanna from his pocket. Slowly opening his injured hand, he gently wiped the blood onto the cloth, and when he’d finished, he began to smile. A faint mark was all that remained, but as he stared, even that gradually vanished, leaving no trace of injury at all.
“This is even better than I’d expected,” he said, still studying his hand. “I wonder what else I can do.” He stood and looked around the docking bay for something else he might try. The row of fighters nearby caught his eye and he jumped to his feet and rushed toward them. As soon as he was within reach of the first ship, he swung his arm as hard as he could, connecting his fist with the side of the vessel. He could hear the metal crush inward, but the impact also disturbed the ship’s balance, and it tipped from its landing gear and fell on its side.
The general let out a grunt and flexed his muscles as a show of strength, grinning wide. Then, as another test, he grabbed hold of the ship and with some significant straining managed to pull it back upright, laughing at the fact that he’d just lifted an object weighing more than twenty-five thousand kilos.
His plans had not gone the way he’d hoped, but despite his predicament, he was thoroughly enjoying his newfound abilities. Now he just needed a way off this ship.
The general began pacing, and his smile faded as he worked through the limited options he had. He could either wait for a ship that would maybe never come, or risk taking a fighter jet. He had grown tired of waiting, and decided the fighter was his best bet.
He stopped pacing and looked around the docking bay one more time, making sure he hadn’t overlooked anything. “Too bad there’s nothing bigger,” he said, now staring at the row of fighter jets. But before he could take a single step toward them, he heard the engines of another ship as it entered the docking bay. He turned his head and smiled. “About time,” he said, and walked out on the platform into open view.