by David Roman
“Wait a minute…” The guard paused, his hand beginning to anxiously twitch on his rifle. “Why are you Xenian?”
“We came from a different ship,” the Dirsalian calmly said, providing the guard with the necessary papers. “The Nabulian crew is busy with the gas leak on the carrier at the east platform.”
“What kind of crew?”
“Nabulian.”
“I’ve never heard of… Nabulia…”
“What’s the problem?” the first guard shouted. “Let them through—we’re taking off soon!”
“It’ll be quick,” the Dirsalian assured.
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to be quick.” The guard eased up but still hesitated, looking at the papers and at the cart.
“Some parts need to be swapped, but most of this junk just needs to be placed on the deck.”
“The lieutenant will have our carcasses!” the other sentry continued.
“Okay!” the guard retorted. He then turned back to the group and asked, “Can you do it in twenty minutes?”
“Oh, we’ll try to do it in fifteen,” the Xenian man said, smiling and looking over at his giant companion.
“Go ahead.” The guard stepped aside, and the crew hurried up the ramp.
“You’re too jumpy,” the other guard said as the maintenance group went into the ship. “If you’re so eager for action, transfer to the main army units or something.”
“No, it’s just—”
“What?”
The younger guard squared his shoulders. “Nothing.”
“Remember, we’re just here to watch the gate. You can’t go on pointing your gun at everyone.”
“Well…” The latter sighed. “I guess you’re right. The lieutenant did tell us to make sure the crew gets on board before takeoff.” Then he walked back to his fellow officer and—for the last time—took his post.
*
The companions went past more security guards into the belly of the ship, ending up in a circular room full of machines, generators, compressors, pumps, and gears with hundreds of robots operating them. The soaring ceiling was over four hundred feet high, barely visible through the numerous bridges that overlapped this huge area on every floor, hosting countless patrolling soldiers.
“The lower decks,” Spaide whispered, leading the way. “They mostly contain engine rooms and cargo holds.”
The worker robots were of small stature, slightly over four feet in height with three legs beneath their torso for faster progress. They worked at an unparalleled pace and completely ignored anything outside their programing. Bigger robots hauled apparatus and turned gears, and a few stocky, hominoid creatures resembling walking manatees checked them for malfunctions.
The group swiftly went to a small entrance without getting any attention. They had made it through the hard part. All they had to do now was hurry, for time was their biggest enemy.
Spaide approached the door and began tampering with its control board. He ran a wire from the panel to his device, and—after punching a sequence—the door slid open. The team went inside, and the Dirsalian closed it once again.
They entered a faintly-lit tunnel that passed through the ship’s hull. Pipes and thick wires ran along its ceiling, disappearing into the darkness of the passage. At the left side—every fifty or so feet apart—rungs led up to entrances accessing the upper deck. Luckily for them, there wasn’t a moving thing in sight.
“This is it,” Spaide said. “The avionics hallway. It’ll be quite some time till they open this door, much less follow us or monitor this tunnel.”
“Nabulian?” Exander asked, regarding Spaide’s earlier antics.
“Sorry… couldn’t help it.” Spaide smiled, pulling his gun-belt out of the cart.
“We could’ve been spotted right there!”
“Just be thankful I didn’t blast that green bastard back at Servillas’ shop. Such audacity!”
“Whatever.” Exander gave up, realizing that arguing with the Dirsalian was pointless. He then looked around and kicked the cart. “Vincent, get out.”
Vincent pushed the gadgets aside and jumped out with his rifle.
The twins took off their jumpsuits and threw them into the cart. Gaia took off the weird mask, put a net on her head, and concealed a blaster in her uniform. Spaide strapped the gun-belt around his waist before retaining the jumpsuit. He then approached the panel beside the first set of rungs and opened the door leading up.
Vincent uneasily stared down the lifeless hallway, expecting company at any time. A weird sensation passed through his system—the excitement of a crime. He hadn’t felt like that since he’d been a kid, stealing candy at a supermarket. But this was far from a supermarket, and he was pretty sure the consequences were more severe.
Spaide ascended the rungs and peeked in. “Clear,” he said, jumping down. “Be careful,” he added to Gaia.
“Don’t worry about me,” she replied, beginning to climb. “Just make sure you’re there at the precise time.” Once inside, she turned down to face them. She looked over at Vincent, and her lips formed a smile—or at least he thought they did. “Good luck,” she said, and the door closed.
“Well, I hope our Princess’s up for it,” Spaide muttered.
Exander pulled out a tiny device portraying a hologram of the ship. “Our exit’s a few doors down,” he said and then, turning to the rest of the group, asked, “Ready?”
Vincent nodded because he knew the question was directly pertaining to him. Here he was, billions of miles away from home, tired, hungry, wearing nothing but his shirt and jeans, with an extraterrestrial gun in hand and a recurring headache. How could I not be ready? He was ready for anything.
They passed several hundred yards and then stopped.
“Spaide.” Exander put his hand on the Dirsalian’s shoulder. “Be there, my brother, or we’ll be doomed.”
“You don’t even have to say it, son,” Spaide replied. Even through that desperate moment, the Dirsalian tried to keep his nonchalant attitude. “I’ll be there.” He put his opposite hand on Exander’s shoulder. “Remember”—he tightened his grip, looking more serious—“this is a rescue.”
Exander lowered his head, clenching his jaw. He knew exactly what Spaide had meant.
“Ex…”
Exander looked up. “Okay…”
“Good luck.” Spaide winked at Vincent, hugged the big guy, grabbed the cart, and strolled down the hallway ahead of them.
They waited for a minute until Spaide disappeared out of view, and then approached a set of rungs by the wall.
“It’s only a matter of time until we’re spotted,” Damocles said.
“By then, though, it’ll be too late for them to stop us,” Exander said. He reached the wall and began to rig the control panel. The gate above hissed open. He turned to his brother and Vincent. “Quietly,” he gave the final warning and ascended.
The rungs rose up into a maintenance room. There was only one door across, and it was open, exhibiting the area beyond. They dashed to either side of the opening.
Exander peeked in for a fraction of a second.
The sector of the ship beyond was a round area that rose up hundreds of feet and was overlapped by bridges with more patrolling guards. The walkways camouflaged the floor in shadows, giving them a perfect opportunity to make their way across.
Exander looked over at his brother and extended four fingers. Damocles nodded in response, and they safely crossed the room.
They entered another undersized space full of machinery. There, behind a desk composed of computers, stood a guard. As they rushed into the room, he turned to face them with a startled look, but before he could react, Exander leapt forward and snapped his neck.
The guard’s limp body fell by their feet.
A cold feeling overtook Vincent as he stared down at the corpse. It all happened so fast. The poor kid didn’t even know what was going on…
“Wake up!” Exander shook Vincent. “T
here’ll be more of this,” he said, signifying that this was just a sample of things to come.
Vincent swallowed, straightened himself, and followed.
The room exited into a tunnel. To their right, the passageway extended beyond sight with many doors, and to the left, it ended abruptly into a shadowy corner where a ladder led up into a shaft.
“Go,” said Exander, pointing in the direction of the ladder.
The shaft was merely a maintenance conduit that helped mechanics access every level of the ship in case the elevators were down. Every twenty feet there was an opening in the conduit, providing an exit to different levels. As they went up for several stories, Vincent couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder through one of the openings. They were in the heart of the ship—in an enormous quarter miles in size with humongous columns supporting its ceiling. The columns were hundreds of feet in diameter, encircled with railings, and had long catwalks connecting them to one another.
Exander cautioned Vincent to halt, pointing at the one of the football-shaped contraptions that floated by the opening above them. “Security drones,” he whispered.
“How much further?” the big guy asked from below.
“There.” Exander pointed up at the room’s highest bridge that connected their conduit to one of the columns.
Slowly and prudently, they continued upward. The conduit ended before the last bridge but the rungs continued further, stopping beneath the ceiling in between hundreds of shattering pipes, twenty feet above the bridge. They went up the rungs and, much to their advantage, were still concealed in darkness.
There were three guards on that upper level: two patrolling the bridge beneath them, and one posted far across in a square booth that was attached to the ceiling, giving him observation of the entire chamber. The walking guards were in a deep conversation, and the sentry in the booth slumped in his chair, lazily looking down; they had no idea what was about to happen.
As the guards passed under them for the second time, the twins sprang into action. Exander leapt backwards off the ladder, landed on one of the troops, wrapped his right arm around his neck, spun using the support of the chokehold and kicked the second guard square in the face while throwing a blade across the room with his free hand. The sentry in the booth shuddered as the knife pierced his helmet, nearly toppling him out of his window. The first guard then fell as his helmet faced in the direction it normally wouldn’t. The other guard, who tried to understand what was going on through his broken visor, couldn’t even mutter as a mighty hand grabbed him by the throat and raised him above ground.
Damocles’ strength was inhuman: he easily held the guard by the neck in his outstretched arm—the victim’s feet dangling above the floor as his life of service passed away.
“Perfect,” Exander whispered, looking at the unwary guards below. “Let’s move.”
In a few giant but silent leaps, Exander crossed the entire bridge, followed by Vincent and the big man who carefully carried the bodies into the dark corner next to the column. They rounded the column and headed down the other bridge to an opening in the wall.
There was a room beyond the opening with two armed robots guarding the door at its end. These robots were not the worker type Vincent had seen earlier: they had longer legs with inverted knees, specifically designed for jumping great distances, stood over five feet tall and had plates on their heads which protected their microprocessors.
Once again, they spread on either side. Exander looked over at his brother and pointed at his eyes and then up. Damocles nodded, noticing the two cameras over the closed door. The twins then rushed in, throwing the daggers out of their belts.
As the Xenians took care of the robots and the cameras, Vincent looked over the banisters of the bridge at the maze of catwalks and technology below. It was all clear: the guards continued their duty, unaware of the watchman’s limp body virtually tumbling from the security booth, and the flying machines flew in their assigned directions.
Exander grabbed Vincent by the collar and yanked him inside, closing the gate. “No time for sightseeing,” the Xenian warned.
“I was just making sure it’s safe.”
“It’s safe as long as we don’t hear the alarm.”
The twins pulled out their swords, and Vincent cocked his gun. It was time.
Damocles’ sword was much larger than that of his brother, its blade being over six inches in width—one side razor-sharp, the other dull, but good enough to knock somebody out cold. It looked like it weighed more than fifty pounds but was suitable for the big Xenian.
“We should be near Na’ar’s chambers,” Exander said, looking at his navigation hologram. “Speaking of the alarm, I’m surprised Gaia or Spaide haven’t triggered it yet. Nevertheless, it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s activated.”
The twins then each pulled out three daggers and placed them between the fingers of their left hand.
“Refrain from using the blaster,” Exander said to Vincent. “We must be stealthy for now.”
Vincent was about to shout out but then bit down his temper and asked, “Well, what do you want me to do then?”
“Just be quiet and follow,” the Xenian replied crossly.
Exander opened the door, and they entered a bright corridor with a white marble floor and gleaming walls. Before Vincent could catch a glimpse of his surroundings, the twins destroyed two of the cameras by heaving the daggers out of their closed fists.
“Hurry,” Exander said in a low voice.
After knocking out several more cameras, their careful pace turned into a full run. The path was beginning to take awkward sharp turns, winding deeper and deeper into the ship. Three droids appeared around the corner, unaware of the charging madness headed for them.
Exander leapt ahead and slashed through the droids before they could make a beep. With the resonance of a dying machine, they collapsed around the blonde.
Vincent awed at Exander’s weapon as he jumped over the metal pile, at how easily the sword sliced through these robots. By now, he was sure the twins were different from other Xenians because they had extrasensory powers, but the reason why they used these swords simply escaped him—although he yearned to hold one of them.
They reached the end of the passage and entered a circular shaft, its apex and base shrouded in darkness. A staircase spiraled alongside the wall.
“Try to keep up,” Exander said and jumped over the railing. He landed several floors below them without making any noise.
“Well,” Vincent said to the big man, looking down. “I’ll meet you down there.”
“Just hold on to my back.” Damocles knelt down.
“Are you kidding me?” Vincent faltered.
“We have no time for this!” Damocles grabbed Vincent’s arm, threw him over his shoulder with ease, and jumped, landing next to his brother.
“Damn, you’re strong,” Vincent muttered, climbing off.
The big man smiled. “Thanks.”
They continued down several more floors before entering another tunnel full of machinery. Slashing through four more unsuspecting droids, the team found its way to a solitary door.
“Almost there,” Exander said just as the ship began to shake.
“They’re lifting off!” Damocles cried out.
“Hold on to something!” Exander grabbed a thick pipe.
“If we don’t do this before they enter hyperspace, we might as well give up,” Damocles said after a delayed minute due to the turbulence.
“You don’t think I know that? We took the shortest path!” Exander retorted. “It’ll be another twenty to thirty minutes until they blast off. It should buy us enough time.”
They positioned themselves on either side of the door. The entry had a thick window, providing the observation of the inside where soldiers stood guard.
Exander peeked in.
“Dozen guards, three doors,” he whispered. “Two doors at the sides leading to other tunnels, one straig
ht ahead… heavily fortified, I might add, undoubtedly leading to the prisoner.”
“Only twelve guards?” Damocles was surprised.
“I’m afraid there are more rooms past that door. Unfortunately, my hologram doesn’t portray the section beyond.”
“But is there another way into this room?” Vincent caught their attention.
The twins traded flabbergasted looks: the door in front of them was the only way in, and it didn’t have a panel to rig.
“Damn it,” Exander cursed. “They’ll raise the alarm the very second they see us! How will we get in?”
“We don’t have much time, Ex,” Damocles said. “We’re lucky they didn’t raise it yet, so let’s just barge in there.”
“What, you think they’ll just open the door for us?”
“We should’ve gotten some of that explosive clay from Spaide…”
Exander swore under his breath and then said, “I tell you what, why don’t you break that glass, and we’ll just shoot them off?”
“Break the glass?” Damocles exclaimed. “This glass? Our super-strength won’t matter. I’ll break my hand before I break it!”
As Vincent got more acquainted with his new alien friends, he began to see things clearly, and seeing the twins standing there and bickering in this perilous hour, he realized what they were: a pair of adolescents. There really was no way into this room except through the door in front of them. It was time for him to do something, for him to play the role of the elder.
Vincent raised his weapon. “Amateurs,” he said. “Watch this.”
The twins stared at the insane human in disbelief as he shoved them aside and began slamming his fist on the glass.
“He’s lost his mind,” Damocles said.
Four guards approached the door, curiously looking at the weird creature that boldly stood behind it, hands behind his back.
“What the hell are you?” the guards asked as the gate opened.
Without hesitation, Vincent pointed the gun at the soldier’s torso and pulled the trigger. A blue energy ball ripped through the sentry’s chest, tearing apart his vest and forcing him to fly back into the room, toppling over the other guards.