Space Team: Song of the Space Siren

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” said Cal, trying very hard to ignore the knobbly chunks of bloody innards which currently clung to the wall directly behind Mech’s head. What the Hell even was that purple thing, anyway? A spleen? A liver? Did the hat-things even have those?

  “So, what are you saying, Mech?” Loren asked, cutting the cyborg’s list short. “Can we fix it?”

  “I was getting to that part,” said Mech. “Short answer? No.”

  Loren grimaced. “And the long answer?”

  “Also no,” said Mech. He gestured around them to the gut-splattered tangle of wires and broken equipment. “I don’t even know what half of this stuff does, let alone how to fix it. That thing over there? That’s life support. Totally fonking destroyed, and yet we’re still here. So, I don’t know, maybe it isn’t life support.”

  He shook his head. “That’s the problem with experimental prototypes. Ain’t no instruction manual on how to fix them when shizz goes wrong.”

  “Sugar content creator,” warbled Kevin.

  Cal glanced up at the ceiling and sighed. “Whatever you say, pal. Whatever you say.”

  A hand touched him on the shoulder and he whipped round, fists raised. “Wah!”

  Soonsho drew back in fright, and Cal quickly lowered his hands in case she screamed. “Hey, Soonsho. You probably don’t want to see this,” he said, blocking her view of the room. “God knows, I don’t.”

  Soonsho stepped back into the corridor and raised an arm. A finger extended, pointing back towards the bridge. Cal leaned around the doorway and looked in that direction. The corridor was still painted red by the emergency lighting, but there was another light, too. A flickering, dancing blue and white mosaic on the walls near the flight deck’s open door, as if someone had left the TV on in there.

  “Uh. OK,” he said. “Guys?”

  He stepped out of the room and crept along the corridor. The others followed behind, employing various shades of stealth. Loren moved silently, her feet making no sound on the smooth vinyl floor. Mech’s hydraulics hissed and whirred with every step, but at least he made the effort. Mizette, on the other hand, just plodded along, making no attempt whatsoever to stay quiet.

  Soonsho stuck close to Cal. She had a hand clamped over her mouth, as if she was expecting to scream at any moment. Considering she was the only one who knew what was making the lightshow on the bridge, this didn’t exactly fill Cal with confidence.

  The leather of Loren’s holster creaked as she drew her blaster. Cal pressed himself against the wall outside the door and gestured for her to go ahead. She nodded once, made a complicated series of hand gestures that not even Mech fully understood, then dived into the room, rolled into a kneeling position and snapped up her weapon.

  “Uh, you might all want to come in here,” she said, lowering the gun again.

  Cal gasped as he stepped around the doorframe and onto the bridge. There, standing in front of the viewscreen, was an angel.

  At least, that was his first thought, thanks to the man’s ethereal white glow and kindly features. Cal soon realized he probably wasn’t an angel, though. He had no wings for one thing. He was short and stockily built, for another, with a chubby face that – even through the white glow – Cal could tell had rosy red cheeks.

  He wore a long apron that clung to his portly belly and flapped around loosely near his knees. He looked less like an actual person, Cal thought, and more like the mascot for a family-owned chain of baker’s shops.

  “Greetings. I am Dorid Tarkula,” he announced, his voice emerging from the speaker system overhead. “Or a holographic representation of Dorid Tarkula, at least,” he continued with an amused chuckle. “This vessel’s core systems have been damaged.”

  “You don’t say,” Mech muttered.

  “Who is this guy?” Cal asked, but Loren shushed him.

  “This recording is activated only when damage levels have become catastrophic, and the vessel is beyond any possibility of space-based repair,” the hologram continued. “Life support systems are failing, or have already failed.” He chuckled again. “In fact, there’s a very good chance you may already be dead.”

  Cal shot Loren a sideways glance. “We aren’t are we?”

  Loren nipped his arm through his shirt. “Ow!” he yelped.

  “Seems not,” she confirmed.

  “Fortunately, because of the vessel’s experimental nature, I took the liberty of adding a ‘recall’ function, for just such an emergency,” Dorid informed them. “This functionality is not connected to any of the other systems, and is encased in a galvanized neutronium alloy for protection. It should, theoretically, enable you to return to me, so that I may assess the damage for myself.”

  The hull of the Untitled began to creak and groan. Cal glanced around at the metal walls. “OK, those noises are troubling.”

  “I suggest you take a seat,” the hologram continued. “You know, assuming anyone is still alive on there!”

  A vibration rose through the Untitled’s floor. Cal and the others hurried to their seats and frantically strapped themselves in. Even Mech, whose magnetic feet usually clamped him in place, grabbed onto a control console for additional support.

  “I’ll see you soon!” Dorid said. He winked, then the image vanished, leaving them with just the red emergency lighting to force back the gloom.

  “H-h-he s-s-seemed n-n-nice,” Cal stammered, the shuddering of the ship rattling him all the way up to the vocal chords.

  “Emulsion rewind in ploffle,” announced Kevin, delivering each word at a slightly different speed and pitch. “Knuckle up.”

  The ship dropped. That was what it felt like, at least. Like that first step off a bungee jump, or an elevator cable snapping on the thirteenth floor. The ship plunged through space, spinning like a yo-yo on a down stroke. Or Cal thought that’s what was happening, anyway. The lack of visual input from the screens made it impossible to confirm. All he could rely on was the sloshing in his inner ear and, to a lesser extent, the rising feeling of nausea in his belly.

  “H-how long is this going to k-keep up for?” he managed to grimace, despite the G-forces currently attempting to make his eyes meet around the back of his head.

  “D-don’t know,” Loren hissed.

  And then it happened. It started with a pinprick of light in the center of the room. The light doubled in size, then doubled again, flowering open like petals as it bloomed to become a series of tumbling loops and whorls painted onto the air itself.

  Somehow, without apparently changing, the light stopped being a light and became a sound instead. It bypassed Cal’s ears and implanted itself straight into his head. The sound was indescribable. It was beautiful and terrible and every shade in between. It was the sound of angry babies and angels falling. It was the sound of true evil discovering truer love, and of Santa Claus having his heart broken.

  It also, Cal decided, sounded a bit like a goose choking on a tiny bell. But you really had to use your imagination for that one, and it seemed less poignant than the others, anyway.

  And then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

  Cal and the others sat (except Mech, who stood) in the half-dark, gulping down shaky breaths (except Mech, who didn’t breathe) bracing themselves for what might happen next. The ship no longer felt like it was falling or spinning, which was a relief, but it could start again at any second, so no-one dared move.

  “You know, now that I think about it,” said Miz. “I totally should have just stayed at home and been queen this whole time. I bet this kind of stuff never happens to queens.”

  White and blue light flickered up the walls as the hologram reappeared on the deck. Further back in the ship, there was a clang as the landing hatch dropped open.

  “And you’re here,” announced the image of Dorid. “If capable of doing so, please exit via the landing ramp. I assure you, you will not be harmed.”

  He smiled, making his red cheeks even rosier. “Welcome,” he said, “to
Castle Tarkula!”

  Through the open hatch, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Somewhere, in the distance, something howled.

  “You know,” said Cal, unclipping his harness and getting to his feet. “Suddenly, I have a very bad feeling about this.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Castle Tarkula itself did little to allay Cal’s fears. It rose from a hilltop of black slate, its dark, twisting spires stabbing upwards at the cloudy night sky.

  A wall that went all the way past ‘imposing’ and deep into ‘psychologically troubling’ territory surrounded the collection of towers that made up the castle proper. It was lined along the top with thousands of rusted metal spikes. Gargoyle faces grimaced out from the gray brickwork every ten feet or so, as if watching for trespassers.

  A portcullis blocked the only visible route in and out of the castle grounds. From a distance, Cal thought it was your standard wrought iron number, but as they drew closer the surface shimmered and flickered erratically, and made all Miz’s fur stand on end with static electricity.

  “Well, this is homely,” Cal whispered. Another flash of lightning flickered inside a bank of black clouds, briefly turning it shades of purple and blue.

  It was rare that Mech allowed Cal to bring a gun, but after walking down the ramp and spotting the castle, Cal had insisted. He had the pistol tucked into a holster for now, but his hand was tightly gripping the handle, and his trigger finger itched so badly it was developing a rash.

  Mech and Loren stood either side of Soonsho, shielding her from whatever might come leaping out of the darkness. The only light in the area, besides the thin glow of the half-covered yellow moon, flickered in a few of the tower windows, and Cal couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching them from the shadows.

  They stood at the portcullis and waited for it to open.

  It didn’t.

  “Hello?” Cal called. “Anyone home?”

  A sudden screech of moving metal made him jump. He half drew his blaster, then lowered it back into the holster when he realized the sound hadn’t been the scream of a vampire, banshee, or anything else along those lines.

  It had been the sound of the ground beneath the Untitled twisting as it rotated downwards, lowering the ship into an underground cave.

  “Hey!” Cal cried. He tried to rush back to the ship, but a set of doors clanged closed above it. The sound they made was of metal hitting other metal, but the ground once more looked like a patch of flat slate, with nothing to suggest the ship – or doors – had ever been there at all.

  “Great. So now we lost the ship,” Mech grunted.

  “To be fair, it wasn’t like it was going to get us anywhere,” Loren pointed out.

  “Yeah, but Splurt’s still on there!” said Cal.

  Mech sighed. “How come you always do that, man?”

  “Do what?”

  “Splurt.”

  Cal held up his hands in protest. “I have never ‘done’ Splurt, and I resent the accusation that—”

  “I mean leave him behind. He can handle himself better than any one of us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Miz muttered.

  “Because,” said Cal, launching into an explanation despite the fact he didn’t actually have one prepared. “I mean… because he’s a beautiful innocent creature, that’s why. Yeah, that’ll do. Can he handle himself physically? Yes. But emotionally? Is he mentally prepared for…” He gestured up at the foreboding castle. “…whatever fresh Hell this is? I honestly don’t know.”

  Cal smiled sadly. “They grow up so fast. Why can’t you just let him be a child for a little longer, Mech? Hmm?” He grabbed Mech by the arms and tried, without success, to shake him. “Why won’t you just let him be a child?”

  “When Zertex was studying him they figured out he’s roughly eight thousand years old,” Loren told him.

  Cal stopped attempting to shake Mech. “Oh,” he said. “I shall keep that in mind.”

  He turned back towards the gate. The portcullis was gone. The archway was clear. A grotesquely misshapen gargoyle with a skull like an exploding pineapple eyed the crew from the top of the arch as Cal drew his gun and slowly approached.

  “Looks like we’ve been invited in,” said Cal, as another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. “Stick close together, no wandering off, and if anyone happens to be carrying any garlic, crosses or holy water, feel free to pass them around.”

  The moment they were all inside the castle grounds, the portcullis reappeared, as if by magic. Beyond the outer walls, where they’d just come from, the terrain was bleak and uninviting. Inside, it was even worse.

  Several trees stood around the otherwise empty courtyard, their trunks blackened, their branches bare, as if they’d all been the victims of some deranged horticultural arsonist. Bird-like shapes – also black – hopped from branch to branch, their beady eyes glinting in the pale moonlight as they tracked Cal and the others all the way to the castle’s front doors.

  The doors were serious-looking metal things, with hinges as thick and as long as Cal’s arm riveted across the front of each. There was no handle that Cal could see, and when he brushed his fingertips across the metal, a shock of electricity jolted through his hand and up his arm.

  Cal stepped back and looked across the gray brickwork surrounding the door. “Anyone see a bell?” he asked, then he took a further step back as the doors swung inwards with a predictably sinister creeeeak, revealing a candle-lit room beyond.

  “This would be the point in the movie where a creepy villager warns us not to go inside,” Cal whispered. He looked back, almost hopefully, over his shoulder. “Guess not,” he muttered, then he raised his blaster pistol in front of him and quietly stepped into the castle.

  “Hello there!” called a cheerful voice.

  Cal screamed and spun in the direction of the sound, hurriedly raising his blaster. He closed his eyes and fired twice. Both bolts hit Dorid Tarkula at point blank range in the chest, splattering the wall behind him with blood, flesh-chunks, and sizzling blobs of fat.

  With a gasp of horror, Cal lowered the gun. “Ooh shizz. I am so sorry,” he said. “You came at me out of nowhere, and it just went off in my hand.”

  Dorid, who had remained standing throughout, looked down at the holes in his upper torso, gargled something bloody and damp, and then toppled backwards onto the polished wooden floor.

  Everyone stared at Cal in silence as he shuffled closer to Dorid’s body, nudged it with his foot, and very tentatively said, “Hello?”

  When no response came – not even after a slightly louder, “You OK, buddy?” to double-check – Cal made the diagnosis.

  “Nope. He’s dead.”

  “You think so?” said Mech.

  “Argh! I don’t believe you, sometimes,” groaned Loren.

  “What? It’s not my fault! Mech gave me the gun.”

  “Never again,” said Mech. “That’s the last time. No more guns for you.”

  “Although, you have to admit,” said Miz. “It was kinda hilarious.”

  “Not really seeing the funny side,” Mech growled. “Now what do we do?”

  Cal rolled his tongue around inside his mouth as he thought. “I don’t know. Bury him in the garden?”

  “Bury him in the garden?” said Loren, flatly. “Not ‘inform the authorities’? Not ‘notify his next of kin’?”

  “Yeah, well obviously we’ll do those, too,” said Cal. “Just, you know, from the safety of outer space.”

  “Hello there!”

  Cal screamed. Again.

  Cal spun. Again.

  The shots took out half of another Dorid’s head, ruining an expensive-looking oil painting hanging on the wall behind him.

  “Shizz. I did it again!”

  The body slumped forwards onto the floor. This time, Cal didn’t feel the need to nudge it with his foot. It was about as dead as it was possible to be.

  “Seriously, man, give me that fonking gun,” said Mec
h, snatching the weapon from Cal’s hand. He passed it to Loren, who tucked it into the back of her belt.

  “So… what? There are two of him?” drawled Miz. She flicked her eyes to Cal. “You just murdered twins.”

  “I didn’t murder them,” protested Cal. “They just… got in the way of the shots I accidentally fired.”

  “Oh, so it’s their fault?” said Loren.

  “No! I’m not saying it’s their fault,” Cal insisted. “I’m saying we’re all partly to blame here. It’s everyone’s fault, collectively.”

  Throughout all this, Soonsho stood with her back against a wall, trying very hard not to make a sound. While the others argued, she spotted movement in a narrow doorway at the top of a small set of curving stone steps. Clamping a hand over her mouth to be doubly sure she didn’t scream the place down, she tapped Cal on the shoulder and gestured towards the door.

  The left side of a podgy, rosy-cheeked face edged around the doorframe. “Uh… hello,” it said. “Please, don’t shoot.”

  “We won’t,” said Cal, holding up his hands to show they were empty. “These other two gentlemen surprised me, mistakes were made on both sides, but… Relax. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  The man in the doorway sensibly chose to emerge slowly, with no sudden movements. Once in the open, Cal and the others recognized him right away.

  “Hey, it’s you!” said Cal.

  “So… what?” Loren frowned. “You’re triplets?”

  Dorid Tarkula smiled, but there was an anxiousness to it, like he was worried it might get him killed. “Goodness, no. Those are – were – clones. I created them to help with my work, and with the running of the castle. It’s a big endeavor to manage by oneself. Always something needing cleaned up.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Cal. He looked down at the two corpses. “Speaking of which, we can help move these somewhere, if you like? It seems… I mean, that seems only fair. You know, considering.”