by Dana Kelly
Satisfied it was dead, she crouched and set down her weapon. Carefully, she turned its head toward her and ran her gloved fingers along its surface, from the top to the chin. There, she detected a ridge, and she dug her fingertips into it. Straining against it, the skin finally peeled back, revealing a mouth as wide as its entire head. Large, blunted teeth lined its jaw. It retched suddenly, and a huge black tongue lolled out. She yelped, and she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her rifle on the way up.
“Casey, are you okay?” asked Shona. She slid down the ladder, nearly tripping over the creature’s body. “We heard your gun go off.”
“Hell no, I’m not okay,” said Casey. “We’re going to need to review the footage, because I don’t know what I just saw.”
Orin leaned over the hatch as the others stepped close. “What is that?” he asked.
Casey glanced up at him. “It’s a new kind of xeno, and it’s hostile.”
“Remarkable,” whispered Edison.
Suddenly, Orin’s eyes went wide. “Shona, look out!”
With a black blade in its good hand, the figure kipped up and stabbed with blinding speed, cutting through the tactical vest as if it weren’t there. Shona barely had time to react, catching nicks here and there as she desperately dodged. Its separated mass flowed in through its feet, healing its other arm, and from its hand, a second blade appeared.
“Somebody, help me!” Shona screamed.
“Leave her alone!” shouted Orin, and an indigo bonfire crackled around his hands. Gritting his teeth, he reached out with cosmic power and gripped the interloper’s forearms. Caught in the tidal vice of a neutron star, the figure stood frozen in place. Slowly, it turned its faceless head toward Shona. The fear in Orin’s eyes turned to rage, and Orin brought his hands together, clenching them. “I said leave her alone!”
The interloper collapsed upon itself as crushing force compacted every bit of inky flesh and ejected a rush of water. Ringed with light, the water formed a crystal-clear orb around a tiny black nucleus. Orin released his hold, and the interloper’s compressed remains struck the deck hard enough to dent its surface. Water splashed down around it, pooling over the tiny, black sphere.
“Thanks, Orin,” said Shona, and she winced in pain.
“Sure,” said Orin, and he fell to his knees.
“Come on, baby girl,” said Malmoradan, and he helped Shona up the ladder. “You’re bleeding,” he said. “Edison, she’s cut all over!”
Mike ran to her side. “What did that thing do to you?”
“Let’s have a look,” said Edison, and he opened his medical kit.
“Most of the cuts just sting,” said Shona, and she lifted her forearm. Blood dripped from her elbow. “I think this one’s deep.”
As Edison tended Shona’s wounds, Casey exited the hatch and took a moment to collect herself. “Edison, keep doing what you’re doing, but everyone needs to see this. You too, Orin. On your feet, deputy!”
He remained on the deck and sank onto his side. “Go ahead. I can see,” said Orin.
“Fine.” Taking a deep breath, Casey played back holographic footage, pausing to zoom in on the creature’s face. “We need to get planet-side as soon as possible. That thing was extremely interested in the people down there, and we have no idea how many more of these creatures there are.”
“It’ll be a massacre,” said Malmoradan.
“Not so long as we’re fast about it,” said Cajun. “Not so long as we got Orin.”
“Speaking of which,” said April, and she excused herself to crouch beside Orin. “Are you feeling all right? You look shaken.”
“No, I’m not all right,” said Orin. He rolled onto his back as his body trembled. “I killed it. Why did I kill it?”
“You saved Shona’s life,” said April.
“I got scared when it looked at Shona, and then I got so angry.” He squeezed April’s hand. “See? This is exactly what I was talking about! I’m a danger to you. I’m a danger to everyone. You guys should just leave me here.”
April ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ve always known you were a protector, from the first moment I saw you. You got angry, because that creature intended to kill Shona, and you acted to keep her safe. You’re not a danger to me, or to any of us. Besides, we know almost nothing about these creatures. It may not be dead.”
Orin frowned. “April, it’s dead.”
“Maybe.” She nodded. “All right, probably, but Shona surely would’ve perished had you done anything differently. I hope you can embrace that one day.”
“I didn’t mean to kill it,” he whispered.
“You did nothing wrong,” said April.
Edison finished gluing Shona’s forearm and wrapped gauze around the wound. “Will you be checking the reclamation level, next?” he asked.
Casey snorted. “The hell with this place. We’re taking our own shuttle down.”
Quickly, they gathered their things and exited the space station.
◆◆◆
Within the confines of the embattled engine room, the tiny sphere dissolved. Very slowly, it mixed back into its water. Gloss black tendrils sprouted from the liquid mass, twisting and knotting, until the interloper reformed completely. After a lengthy pause, it opened the hatch at its feet and descended.
Chapter 21
Rust
Casey was already in the cockpit as April slid down the ladder and alighted upon the passenger compartment deck. The rest of her team rapidly descended. Shona shrugged out of her ruined vest and tossed it in the direction of the latrine before taking her place on the bench. Gingerly, she probed her bandaged forearm. Malmoradan embarked last, dropped the duffle bags inside, and sealed the top hatch behind him. He hurried to his seat, secured his harness, and Casey decoupled from the boarding tube.
For a moment, they drifted weightlessly as directional thrusters guided the shuttle to face Arsenal Bay. Mike looked at Orin, who sat with his head buried in his hands. “Hey man, are you all right?”
“I’m sure I will be,” said Orin. “I’ve never taken a life before.” He exhaled and let his arms float in front of him. “I mean, unless you count roaches and sludgel bugs.”
Images of the men Mike had slain aboard Fox Mendes flooded Mike’s thoughts. He searched for the right words to say as he relived every terrible moment. Bitterly, he remembered how good it had felt when he struck down the man with the repurposer—how angry and quenched he had felt in that instant, and a fierce wave of guilt washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he mentally placed each memory within its own piece of paper, folded them up, and shoved them far back in the desk drawer he tended in his mind. “Hang in there,” said Mike. “I’m told it gets easier to the live with over time.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Orin. “I don’t think everything gets easier, just because you have to live with it.”
Centrifugal gravity slowly returned as Casey accelerated toward the planet.
“If it gets to be too much, remember you’ve got a place in your mind to store it, now,” said Mike.
“Oh, yeah. That’s true,” said Orin. “Thank you.”
Casey’s shuttle skimmed the atmosphere, and fire roared around the hull. Pockets of turbulence rattled the shuttle as it dove through blankets of smoke, headed for the surface of Arsenal Bay. The vessel lurched, and Orin winced. He unbuckled a portion of his tactical vest and hiked up his shirt slightly, briefly. Wincing, he rubbed the ropy scar crossing his abdomen. “That’s quite enough out of you,” he said, and he set to re-buckling his vest.
“How’d you get that scar?” asked Malmoradan. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“I, uh… we were in an accident when I was twelve,” said Orin. “Mike, my uncle, and me. Some guy in a sky truck turned off his autopilot so he could make a delivery on time, and he plowed into us doing eighty, half a kilometer up. He killed my uncle Roy, and he almost killed Mike.” He tapped his clothing above the scar. “Part of the instrument panel im
paled me just before the ejection pod snapped shut.”
“Roy was only ten years older than us,” said Mike. “Practically a kid himself when we were growing up. He used to roughhouse with us whenever I’d come over.”
“Or whenever anyone would come over,” said Orin. “He’d always let us win, and when we did, he’d always say, ‘That’s quite enough out of you!’ in this hilariously bad British accent. Then he’d mess up our hair and chase us around for a while, and we loved it.”
“He sounds like a very kind man,” said April.
“Oh, Roy was great,” said Mike. “Every chance he got, he’d take us kids camping, hiking, or target shooting. And if there was a monster truck rally, a rodeo, or a wrestling match in town, he always found a way to buy enough tickets for everyone to go, if they wanted.”
“I don’t know how he paid rent sometimes, for all the money he spent on us,” said Orin. “But the thing I’m most grateful for is how my uncle Roy taught me to believe in myself, no matter what. I miss him, and every time my scar hurts, I remember him.”
Shona smiled sadly. “He sounds like a really great guy. Gone way too soon.”
“He was,” said Orin. “You would’ve liked him.”
“I hope they nailed that truck pilot to the wall,” said Malmoradan.
Orin shook his head. “He convinced the judge it was a faulty autopilot. All the court did was order him to pay a few thousand credits to Uncle Roy’s next-of-kin and suspend his license for two years. My uncle was way too young for any next-of-kin, and the pilot appealed the suspension. That son-of-a-bitch was back in the airlanes three months later.”
Malmoradan bristled. “What’s his name? Did you get his name?”
“It’s supposed to be public record, but every request my dad or my grandparents filed got lost in the system,” said Orin. “I think someone’s protecting him.”
“That ain’t right,” said Malmoradan. “Ain’t nothing right about that.”
Orin smiled at Mike. “We got Nimbus out of it. And April, you said he’s a very special DI. Who knows? Maybe my uncle Roy’s spirit was the one who made him that way.”
◆◆◆
Alone in the cockpit, Casey glanced over the navigation data. She dropped below the cloud line, and sooty mist rushed against the canopy. Droplets shattered, leaving streaks of ashen mud as they coursed along the vessel’s hull. Embers of sunset smoldered along a fractured sandstone horizon, where midnight oceans soaked in mirrored flame.
Casey’s headphones crackled, and she negotiated with landing control for a spot to set down. She received coordinates outside the tower walls, and she adjusted course. Clouds dissipated as she drew close to the soaring structure.
Steam rolled continuously from rooftop vents, and pinpoint windows cascaded like stars. At its base, four enormous, angled girders loomed over a massive crater, shored up by dozens of smaller, crisscrossing beams. Constructed within the struts, four suspension trams shuttled workers between the residence structure and the planet’s surface. At the heart of the crater sat a hillock of ice, where an augur connected it to the atmospheric processing machinery high overhead.
A sturdy, mottled platform extended in all directions from the tops of the girders, a patchwork deck covered in graffiti art, welded plates, and braces. Upon it, weathered heating vanes glowed and creaked as they fanned the air, and sun-faded rain barrels lined its perimeter. Colorful tin awnings and plastic shear walls provided shelter to dozens of shanties and a makeshift bazaar. Narrow poles leaned over in their recesses as their banners ruffled in the intermittent breeze.
Casey set down on a circular tarmac anchored near the main entrance. At the edge of the landing pad, grimy old string lights dangled from a trio of floodlight posts, twinkling red, blue, amber, and green. The vessel settled, shooting jets of steam as the engines powered down, and Casey got to her feet.
She stretched and joined her fellows in the passenger compartment, just as April was distributing rebreather masks. Glancing behind her, Casey noticed the shuttle’s atmospheric indicator lamp glowed yellow. “Air quality or air pressure?” She secured the rebreather around her neck, as the others donned their masks.
“A little of both, actually,” said April, her voice now emitting from the speakers in her mask. “The gravity’s reduced, as we expected—about what we felt on the space station. Pair that with any sudden or prolonged periods of lightheadedness, and you can imagine how disastrous that could be. Hence, we wear these during our stay here.”
“Sure,” said Casey, and she gripped her mask. “Cheers!” She fastened it behind her ears and tapped a button that locked it to the bridge of her nose. She winced as it blasted her nostrils with cool air and moisture, fully clearing out her nasal passages. “Is that menthol?”
“I swabbed the filters with diluted peppermint oil,” said Edison. “They were starting to stink.”
“God, warn me next time!” Casey shook her head and pinched the space between her brows.
In that moment, someone rapped on the exterior airlock door, drawing the team’s attention.
“Be ready, now,” said Cajun. “Nullies got a bit of a different look to ‘em, most livin’ generations on reduced gravity, high radiation worlds. Tower interiors and the brewed-up atmosphere offer some protection, but the tower is home. Out there’s the factories and the mines. Out there’s the work.”
“I’ve seen how it changes ‘em,” said Malmoradan. “I know what to expect.”
“Ya don’t. The older ones ya met on ya walk, they been re-normaled. These good men and women, well they’re countdown pretty—or sunnies, if ya prefer the local vernacular.”
“They’re human, right?” asked Casey. “How different can they be?” Confidently, she stepped through the interior airlock door, and pressed the button at the far end. The exterior airlock disengaged, and she pushed it open. Wind gusted from inside the shuttle.
On the other side, standing halfway up the boarding ramp, a tall, strong fellow grinned. “Somebody call for the skyman,” he said. His ice blue eyes twinkled in the shuttle’s landing lights, and his face looked dark orange. Black hair peeked out from under a fur-lined hood. “We’ve got ourselves some certifiable brightlighters.” He leaned away, twisting toward a small crowd gathered at the top of the stairs, just below the tarmac, and he cupped gloved hands to his mouth. “Benrik, you owe me a horn!”
Casey blinked. “Hi,” she said, and he returned his attention to her. A frosty breeze scurried across her skin, and she shivered. “I’m Officer Casey Cartwright, with the Interstellar Police Force.”
Enthusiastically, he shook her hand. “I’m Rusty de Bosque de Cerezos, customs enforcement, landing control, and greeting crew at your service! Welcome to Cherry Grove. Please excuse my countrymen. Most of them are acutely superstitious about brightlighters.”
“Good to meet you, Rusty.” She put her hands in her pockets. “I’m guessing we’re the brightlighters.”
He laughed and nodded. “That you are. Don’t worry, you’ll catch on. Give it a few days, and you’ll be all ridgy.”
“I hope we have that much time,” said Casey.
He looked puzzled. “That’s your call, isn’t it? I’m not sure how hope’s even a factor.”
“We encountered an unclassified xeno up on Space Station 6,” said Casey. “It’s been neutralized, and I’ve filed a report with the Bureau of First Contact. I fear the creature we encountered could be part of a larger invasion force.”
“That sounds dire,” said Rusty.
“Very. We think it killed the station crew and the shuttle crew,” said Casey.
Rusty crossed his arms. “Brightlighters aren’t normally known for spouting bowglies, but I guess there’s always got to be a few.”
“What’s a bowgli?” asked Casey.
“A lie! A big one,” said Rusty. “A whopper of a lie!”
“I’m not lying,” said Casey. “We have footage.”
Rusty glanced toward the
tower entrance. “Maybe you do, and maybe you’ve got your own glimmer box to show me, but the shuttle crew’s been landed since Fifthday, and all the stationfolk’s been sitting pretty in the beer garden hotel. Why else do you think I directed you all the way out here, instead of inside on the nice interior loading dock?”
“I saw the itinerary,” said Casey. “There isn’t another supply drop scheduled for days.”
“That particular book’s for accounting. I can’t say if it’s ever been accurate.” Rusty tilted his head and made a clicking sound.
“Have you heard of or seen anything unusual recently?” asked Casey.
“Besides the brighterlighters that landed and started pitching a wheeler about some new xeno running around unkilling perfectly good crewfolk?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” said Casey.
Rusty grinned. “Please do. It’s yours to take!”
“Stay alert and stay in touch,” said Casey. “Especially if you hear of or see anything out of the ordinary.” She passed him a police-branded business card with her contact information.
Rusty passed it back. “We’re on our own network, so I’m not going to be able to call you. Thanks, though.”
“How can I reach you?” asked Casey.
“Take my spare cantie,” said Rusty, and he passed her a walky-talky. “There’s a log-lifter moving in, and it gets bitter cold after dark. You’re thinking it’s not that far from here to the tower, but even a few seconds of direct exposure can get you frostbit. If you’re planning to disembark at this time—or close to this time—I suggest very warm clothes. If you’d rather, you can sleep through it in here and disembark when Soliel’s up, but we’ll have to charge you the full day’s slip fees.”
“We have jackets and thermals. Give us a minute,” said Casey, and she sealed the airlock. Moments later, she and her crew emerged wearing cold weather attire. Malmoradan shouldered a duffle bag stuffed with canteens and ration packs. Rusty guided them down the boarding ramp, and Casey closed up her shuttle.