Overrun: Project Hideaway

by Michael Rusch

  Two loud pops rang out across the din before Tuttle even had a chance to scream. One came from each of his sides. Small bursts of flame marked the darkness from the fired shots.

  RadCom’s battered body staggered once as the first round pierced his heart. The second shot snapped his neck back and lifted his legs from the floor. Blood flew in a small burst from the hole that had opened in the back of his head.

  Before he hit the floor, Tuttle felt his own body moving. He sprinted towards the shredded opening in the deck and leapt.

  His body sailed through the air. His hands stretched out towards the metal sticking out from the broken floor on the other side of the gap. His legs kicked out behind him in a vain effort to give more momentum to his jump.

  He felt his brain practically burst as he tried to will himself to the other side.

  "He pulled it," he heard Samuel shrieking from somewhere behind him as his body went across. "He fucking pulled it!"

  His arms landed roughly against the floor on the other side of the gap. His elbows hooked its jagged metal for the moment keeping him from falling into the depths of the ship. The blow knocked the wind from his lungs.

  Tuttle pushed away at the unconsciousness trying to overtake his mind and refused to let go. His legs dangled over the massive drop. The armed grenade blinked just out of reach in front of him as he struggled to maintain his hold.

  He heard the men behind him scurrying to find a way to the other side. The metal he clung to pierced his skin near the center of his chest making it hard to get his breath.

  Tuttle struggled to pull himself up.

  Behind him, Samuel and Cranden threw their weapons aside and looked desperately for a way around the massive gap. They grasped at the hanging shattered pieces of the damaged ship and started scaling the wreckage along the passageway walls.

  Tuttle’s body swayed violently side to side. He was beginning to lose his grip. He lunged out with his free arm towards the grenade lying just in front of its face. With his arm completely outstretched, his fingers still could not quite yet reach.

  He could feel the metal of the broken floor digging into his side and tearing into his skin. His legs flailed out behind him against the shattered debris.

  Each time his feet found some footing, shots of pain seared like lightning along his legs and the entire length of his spine.

  With a final surge of desperate energy, Tuttle threw his frame across the deck. He lurched up just far enough so that he was able to support his weight across his chest. His legs still dangled over the broken edge of the floor.

  With his body screaming in pain, Tuttle reached out and swatted the grenade over the side of the gap.

  He heard its metal bounce twice in the dark. And then he felt the heat from the blast. And the pain of the erupting shrapnel ripping into his burned skin.

  Through a hazy fog of consciousness, Tuttle sensed his eyes rolling back into their sockets and the grip of his hands suddenly letting go.

  Just before his body dropped, strong hands reached at him from the darkness and firmly grabbed hold.

  Cranden braced his legs and held him while Samuel reached over and hauled him back from the flaming hole.

  They threw him roughly across the deck. Samuel leaned over him and rested his leg while Cranden ran back to carry Parker from the other side.

  "It didn’t breach the hull," he heard Samuel say through the rapid swirl that had wrapped around his senses.

  He felt the burn of the smelling salts launch up into his nostrils and jumpstart his brain. Samuel pulled him slowly to his feet away from the flaming pit behind them.

  Parker and Cranden rushed past them into the cockpit. Tuttle felt himself stagger once and fall into the strong arms of Samuel still standing at his side.

  "You o.k.?" he heard him ask.

  Tuttle nodded once.

  The arms that held him then let go. Tuttle took another couple seconds to balance himself across his feet. Some of the pain subsiding and his head starting to clear, Tuttle followed Cranden, Samuel and Parker into the cockpit.

  He looked down and stepped over the body of the man they had just killed.

  His glossy eyes stared out into the darkness. The flames from the concussion grenade burned from the pit just beyond his feet.

  Chapter 30

  A fresh burst of sweat beaded across Samuel's forehead as he eased his damaged knee into the Hideaway’s command seat. Blood flowed freely from a gash just above his left knee.

  The cockpit had been constructed with the body specifications of its pilots in mind. It was too small for Samuel’s large frame. His legs jutted awkwardly up against the underside of the command console. He settled in the best he could and looked back at the man for whom the seat had been designed.

  "What can I do?" Samuel asked Parker.

  Cranden had just finished dragging Parker into the small cockpit. Tuttle climbed into the copilot’s chair next to Samuel. The air quickly became cramped and stale once all four of the large men pressed tightly in. The stench of rotting blood from their injuries wafted heavily about.

  "You can't access any of the controls or even boot up the system until I defeat the signaturization process," Parker said weakly.

  Cranden propped Parker’s back up against the small wall behind Samuel. With the limited space, Cranden hadn’t been able to bring him completely inside, and his legs protruded out the entranceway into the damaged hall.

  RadCom's body laid just a few yards past the tips of his feet. The gigantic tear in the corridor floor from the concussion grenade blast was just beyond it. Flames still licked from its depths.

  The Hideaway shook roughly again.

  More small fighters from the main J.G.U. ship streaked past the viewport. They swarmed upon the Hideaway ten and twenty at a time. All headed towards its rear.

  "Will it still allow you to do that?" Tuttle asked. “Now that it’s been under attack?”

  He held his hands nervously over the terminals on his own side.

  "It should," Parker replied.

  He shifted his weight forward to get a better look over Samuel’s shoulder at the command screens. The movement brought another wave of pain through his body. His shoulders shuddered, and his hands shook across his lap.

  When it had passed, he leaned past Samuel and pressed a series of buttons across the terminal in front of him. Lights about the cockpit began to come to life. Part of the main console terminal detached and hovered into the air over Samuel's bloody lap.

  Parker leaned further in. His fingers tapped quickly across the command terminal controls and keypads.

  Tuttle pressed his face closer to the viewport trying to get a better look at the fighters zipping away to the back of the ship.

  Another jolt shook the Hideaway. The force this time was not quite as intense.

  The Hideaway shuddered again like it had been gently punched in several different sections along its side.

  "They're attaching themselves to the ship," Tuttle said straining his neck to see even further back. "They're going to board just like we did. They're going to suction on and just cut right through."

  "Will that set off the nukes?" Samuel asked nervously beneath Parker's reach.

  He also strained his neck closer to the viewport to get a better look at what was going on outside.

  "It shouldn't," Parker said holding his breath. His fingers moved more quickly. “Defeating the signaturization process causes the nukes to automatically disarm."

  "So why didn't they go off when we came onboard?" Tuttle asked. Perspiration crossed his face.

  "You boarded midship. Only the cargo area is rigged," Parker said. “Another two sections back, and everything here including the moon itself would have been gone."

  "They could be aboard already," Cranden spoke nervously.

  "They could be," Parker agreed. "But if they thought they knew enough, like where they could safely board, then they would also know that they could only disarm the cargo
area from up here. You knew where you could safely enter. They don't. Or they would have by now. And they would be up here already. And we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

  Cranden turned around apprehensively. He pulled his weapon slowly from his side. He leaned it near the corridor entrance where he could easily grab it if someone came up on them from the other side of the dying fire in the middle of the floor.

  "Well, while they're still trying to figure it out, we're going to be gone already," Samuel said.

  Parker’s fingers stopped moving across the data terminal, and he leaned slowly back.

  "Pilot signature no longer required. Universal control restored," flashed in small letters twice across the command screen before it became dark.

  "The ship is already powered up, Captain," Parker said leaning back against the wall at the rear of the cockpit.

  More ships streaked past them toward the rear of the Hideaway. Tuttle thought he counted more than a hundred at this point.

  "What about the ships already attached?" Tuttle asked powering up the copilot’s terminal.

  "It's a short trip to Earth," Samuel said. "Atmospheric reentry should take care of any that might still be left. Those fighters aren't equipped for space-to-surface flight."

  "I hope you're right," Tuttle said.

  The ship then vibrated lightly. A rumble echoed faintly through the ship. The Hideaway began to move under its own power causing the J.G.U. fighters coming at them to adjust course.

  Their approaches became more haphazard. Bursts from their smaller attack cannons slapped across the Hideaway’s hull.

  "Any damage, I should know about, General?" Samuel barked as they began to move away from the main J.G.U. ship.

  "You don’t want to know,” Tuttle said through gritted teeth. “Just go.”

  The ship rocked behind them. Emergency seal-off doors slammed down throughout the ship while its navigation system prepared for travel back to Earth.

  As they moved closer to the planet, several sections of the Hideaway too damaged to withstand the reentry into the atmosphere were jettisoned. A handful of J.G.U. fighters were destroyed when they released from the ship.

  Samuel brought the Hideaway around. As the ship turned, the vague shape of the moon as well as the large J.G.U. attack ship disappeared from their front viewport. More fighters streaked in front of them firing at the cockpit before flying past and pounding the rest of the hull with weapons fire.

  "Any signs of boarders?" Cranden yelled. The noise in the cockpit had increased as laser blasts slicing across the front of the ship became more frequent and intense.

  He turned away from what was happening outside of the ship to stare back into the dark corridor behind the flames where the real threat from the J.G.U. would come.

  "No signs of structural penetration," Tuttle responded. His voice shook beneath the rough ride of the battered ship. "No access detected to the main cargo bay. I don’t think they’ve made their way in."

  "Atmospheric reentry in sixty seconds,” Samuel reported giving more power to the ship's engines.

  Laser flashes from the main J.G.U. ship streaked at them across the cockpit from behind. Some of the blasts flew past into the far reaches of space while others buried themselves into the surface of the moon.

  The Hideaway jerked roughly to its side. Several of the energy bursts ripped across its center close to the cockpit.

  "Damage!" Samuel screamed at Tuttle.

  "We're still here!" Tuttle shrieked back over the new chaos befallen them. "They're not targeting the rear of the ship anymore! They’re going for the front and midsection. Probably going to try and blast us from the rest of the ship and take their chances recovering what’s left!"

  "Engines!" Samuel screamed back.

  Parker leaned over a console just behind Samuel's back. He quickly scrolled through the equipment status reports across its screen.

  "No damage inside the hull!" Parker yelled as loud as his voice allowed. "That’s probably not going to happen again!”

  Another burst of green energy blasted at them from behind and impacted across the topmost portions of the ship.

  The Hideaway lurched forward. Metal and steel all around groaned and cracked. Fresh fires bellowed from the corridors. Alarms screamed throughout the cockpit.

  Falling behind them in the distance, whole sections of the moon had been ripped away by laser fire from the J.G.U. ship.

  In front of them, the Earth sped quickly towards the viewport. Tuttle pressed his face against the observation glass.

  The smaller fighters were starting to fall back in the distance, their engines not powerful enough to keep pace.

  "Some are breaking away!” Tuttle said still pressed up against the viewport. "Could be because we’ve got a lot of damage. Sections are breaking off. It doesn’t look like the cargo area is attached by much anymore. We could lose it."

  "We’re not going to lose it,” Samuel said determinedly. “We didn't come this far for that.”

  The blue paleness of the Earth rushed at them from the blackness of the galaxy.

  Behind them, the large J.G.U. ship still gave chase.

  Fresh laser bursts pelted the rearmost sections of the Hideaway as it fled the damaged moon and sped towards Earth.

  Soon they were upon it. The weapons attack did not subside. The Hideaway pitched again violently.

  They were seconds away from making contact with the outer atmosphere of the planet.

  * * *

  Parker sat in the rear of the cockpit watching the Earth loom up in front of them when a jolt of intense pain seared across the back of his neck.

  A few seconds later it came again, this time stronger and shooting down his neck and across his shoulders.

  He reached back and rubbed at the caplet just under his skin. It moved beneath his touch.

  The jolts of pain became stronger the further they approached.

  He caught one more quick glance of the Earth before his body started to seize.

  * * *

  A shriek filled the cockpit. It sounded too painful to be called a scream. Parker’s body stiffened sharply back and slammed down hard onto the floor.

  Tuttle turned around to see Cranden roll his legs across Parker whose body was spasming across the ground. Loud sickening gurgles came from his lungs and lips. Cranden struggled to pull his flailing arms from the front of his face.

  Tuttle started to shift out of his seat to help.

  "General, I need you up here,” Samuel said loudly not turning around. His gaze remained riveted across the fast approaching planet. "I can't bring it into the atmosphere by myself."

  Tuttle slowly lowered himself back into the copilot’s seat and stole quick distracted looks at the terminals across his lap.

  "Holy mother of god," Cranden said from behind them.

  Tuttle pushed himself away from the terminals and moved next to where Cranden kneeled across Parker’s thrashing body on the cockpit floor.

  Samuel looked straight ahead and didn’t repeat his concern. He bled more power into the Hideaway’s engines trying to outrun the deadly weapons fire of the pursuing ship. The Hideaway bumped and lurched from the laser attack.

  "Thirty seconds from atmospheric impact," Samuel reported to the men on the ground behind him.

  The only response was another pain-filled shriek.

  "What's wrong with him?" he screamed over his shoulder while punching at the controls across his lap.

  "I don't know!" Cranden yelled back.

  Tuttle kneeled next to Cranden and tried to hold Parker's arms down so the medic could get a better look.

  "He's seizing! Real fucking bad. I don’t know why!"

  Parker's head flew back landing smartly against the metal of the deck. His eyes rolled back into their sockets. Saliva and vomit seeped from his lips.

  His arms and legs thrashed about smashing into the back of Samuel's command seat. Cranden pulled out his medical pack and straddled Parker's b
ucking legs.

  Tuttle leaned over and tried to hold Parker’s arms down across his chest. He had to lean his head back to protect his face from Parker’s gnashing teeth.

  "You've got to keep him off of me!" Samuel yelled ducking beneath Parker’s kicks.

  Outside the viewport, the J.G.U. bombardment intensified.

  Parker's legs pounded across Samuel's arms and the back of his seat. His feet flailed violently against the command terminals at the rear of the cockpit smashing plastic and switches across the consoles.

  Vomit spewed from his mouth in violent bursts drenching the men on top of him.

  The seizure intensified and did not cease. The force of his thrashing limbs became too much for the men holding him. His body worked itself from their grasps and rolled from beneath them onto his side.

  His face fell across Tuttle’s leg, and his teeth dug hard into the fleshy part of his thigh.

  "Son of a bitch!" Tuttle screamed. He grabbed at the back of Parker's neck trying to push him outside the entranceway into the damaged corridor.

  "Look at this!" Cranden yelled. Parker was now on his stomach half-in, half-out of the cockpit entranceway.

  At the back of his neck just below the hairline, a small cylindrical object pulsated just beneath his skin.

  The skin covering the object turned dark green then became completely black. Bursts of energy pulsed from the cylinder and spread down into Parker's body. The bursts visibly destroyed tissue and flesh along the way.

  "What the living fuck is that?"

  Tuttle tried to steady Parker’s head. Cranden put his knee into Parker's back and leaned over his flailing body.

  Parker's teeth gnawed at the air. Tuttle pressed his head to the ground to keep them from again finding someone’s skin. Cranden laid out across Parker’s back trying to pin him down so that he could better see the small object throbbing at the base of his neck.

  "Hold him!" Cranden yelled at Tuttle as he struggled to keep from being thrown to the side.

  Parker's legs kicked up at the air when Cranden shifted his weight to get a better look at the bursts of energy flowing down his spine.

  Tuttle grappled with Parker's head and just struggled to hang on.