From Out of the Dark

by Robert N Stephenson

  “How’s it looking out there, Dane?” The voice crackled over the speakers.

  “O2’s lower than normal,” replied Dane, his reddish stubble becoming more of a beard to go with his choppy crop of hair. “Coolant on drill three is low too, running a bit on the warm side.”

  “Wrap it up and let’s call it a day,” said the voice.

  Dane hated to finish the day early, even for equipment failure. “Let me push it another five minutes, Stan. I can finish here and we’ll head back.”

  “Fine, but I’m not giving you mouth to mouth, you homo,” said Stan.

  Ramon laughed. “Dane, that five minutes isn’t going to get us out of this gravel pit any faster. Let’s move.”

  He was right. Their mining outfit was contracted for at least fifteen months in a small patch of rock that left the Kuiper belt. A high concentration of pure silver was discovered there. Both its abundance and properties for conducting electricity made it the gold of the space era.

  “Done,” said Dane.

  “Better be on time boys ‘cause I’ve already done my good deed for today.”

  “What’s that, Dennis?” said Dane through a half-hearted smile.

  “I dumped your asses off.”

  “Fuck you, Dennis,” came the replies.

  “This ain’t Disney, mother fucker.”

  Dane secured his helmet and set the pressurization and air valves just as the O2 monitors on his mining rig went into the orange. Dennis and his magic bus were on their way.

  The hatch opened enough for him to leap and pull himself up with the rebar handles along the outer edge. The transport shuttle was as greasy and grimy as the main ship or any of the tools they used. The shuttle turned into the remaining mining lights and Dane spotted something peculiar on the ship.

  “That hatch shut, Dane?” Dennis called over the crackling headset. The oldest of the group, Dennis could still break rock as well as anyone. His thick moustache earned him the nickname Walrus, though Ramon often called him Crabby for being just that.

  “No,” Stan replied for him, “he’s busy trying to hump the ship.” Dane was half over the hatch with his legs below and out of sight. “He hasn’t seen a real life set of tits and ass in so long he’s going for anything that moves.” The others laughed.

  Dane ignored them and studied the side of the transport. A filmy substance coated the ship. Dane used the forefinger of his glove to scrape some off. Looking at his sample, Dane observed a deep green colour in the particles. When he rubbed the finger and thumb together the particles moved like magnetized metal shavings. Each fragment twinkled like crystals in low light.

  “Hey, Dane, finish yanking your twig later and close the damn hatch,” Dennis hollered. “Approaching hanger.”

 

  Once the shuttle docked inside the main ship, Trevor and Alexei secured the silver into rail carts that would then be added to the rest of the silver collected.

  Dane and the others were coming off the shuttle. They were met in the hanger by Peter’s tall, wiry frame, he was second in command to Luger. He stood in his deep grey coveralls with his hand resting on the handle of a flatbed cart. “Dane,” he said, “you can kindly deposit your find and your suit, please.”

  “The man wants you to turn your head and cough, Dane,” joked Stan, who claimed he was the only black man ballsy enough to search the outer reaches of space for new and uncharted pussy.

  “Hey,” replied Peter, “we’re not gonna forget your full cavity search before you boarded the ship and had that dildo removed from your ass.”

  Ramon laughed and slapped Stan on the shoulder. “That funny walk of yours was cured, man.” A whole head and a half shorter than Stan, Ramon and Stan could have been brothers if Stan were Spanish.

  “Yeah, now it’s just Peter up my ass,” shouted Stan over his shoulder.

  The others were on their way to get cleaned up then to the cafeteria. Dane carefully removed his gloves and put them with the boxed up sample to one end of the cart and the rest of the spacesuit in a pile at the other.

  “Hit the decontamination chamber to be safe,” said Peter sealing the gloves in heavy gage storage bags.

 

  The following day Dane and the others readied for their morning run. Dane touched down on the asteroid near his rig. Dennis orbited the miners, watching over them as the shuttle drifted from site to site. Standard procedure was a three-man team worked each site. What they were doing was against regulations but much faster.

  Dane followed staked tethers to each of the site lamps and activated them. Next, Dane checked his augers. He noticed a fine layer of green metallic dust on the machinery. There was no trace of it yesterday on his site.

  “Hey,” he called over his headset, “any of you dick-holes find any of that green shit on your sites?”

  “No mutant-robot jiz here.”

  “Here either,” came replies.

  As colourful commentaries continued, Dane saw a strange shadow two meters away. It had long deliberate straight edges. Whatever he saw, wasn’t there yesterday. Dane took a step forward. Then another. He was standing in its long, solid shadow.

  “Dennis,” he said, “I need you to swing by, take a look at something.” Dane saw what caused the shadow. His lighting arrangement gave plenty of light in either direction leaving nothing to chance for an accident or mishap. His site was bordered by a high wall of solid rock. Wedged against it, where it wasn’t yesterday, was something they cast out from the main ship weeks ago.

  “Dane,” said Dennis, “don’t tell me your little find is making you loopy.” Dennis and the shuttle whirred overhead. The boosters let out a quick burst to bring it to a stop.

  “You seeing this?” asked Dane sounding out of breath. His eyes hurt from not blinking in case it might disappear before Dennis arrived.

  “What the fuck did you do, Dane?” He almost defended himself against any allegation but was unable to speak. “Is that what I think it is?” asked Dennis.

  “You seeing it makes me feel better, and worse,” said Dane.

  “I’m sending this to Luger,” said Dennis. He turned on more lights at the front of the shuttle and sent a video stream to the command module of the main vessel.

  Dane stood in the light. This time his shadow cast against his discovery. A period of radio silence followed other than the random crackle.

  A thin layer of the new green element covered the capsule. It was stuck in the ground like a shoved in tent stake at a campsite, crooked. Dane reached out to clear away the fine dust from the ovoid window and with a quick stroke to his left saw inside. His body shivered as if an ice cube was unexpectedly dropped down the back of his suit.

  “Jesus…” said Dane, frozen at his dismay.

  “Dane, Dane,” said Dennis. “I’m lowering the towline, Luger’s orders. He wants the capsule recovered and inspected.” A long pause followed. “He wants to know - if he’s inside….”

  Dane stood before the capsule immobilized. He forced his answer, “Yes.”

  The rest of the dig was cancelled. Everyone, on duty or not, was called into the cafeteria. The only exceptions being Warren, who continued testing the green residue, and Peter, Luger’s second in command, helped him.

  Luger broke the silence. “Do any of you have any idea how this could have happened?” His strong frame with folded arms and brown bearded face looked around at the bewildered expressions. He was no nonsense with hard eyes under a shaggy head of hair. “Who set the coordinates when Felix got jettisoned?” No one responded. Glances wandered from face to floor. “No one’s getting busted, fuck; we’re the only ones who know he got sent out. It’s as much my ass as anyone’s, we broke protocol and I’m running this dig.”

  Trevor mumbled, “We never should have shot him out, man.” He was tall and his dark, slightly curly hair thinned near the back and around the hairline.

  Stan sat backward in his seat leaning forward
with his arms crossed over the backrest. “It’s what he wanted. The man had no family or next of kin.”

  “So we shot him out like trash?” Trevor’s tone became heated.

  “Come on, how many times did he say it was the ultimate way to go?” countered Stan.

  Ramon drew a finger along the table top. Without looking up he said, “Felix loved it out there. It’s like he was from outer space.”

  “Never mind all that,” said Carl itching his closely cropped black hair. “The issue is we went against regulations on what to do with a dead crew member…”

  “We’re talking about a dead man’s last wish, Carl,” said Stan.

  “If we took him back, none of this would be an issue,” said Carl.

  “You mean besides the other non-regulation shit we’ve been up to,” said Stan.

  “Oy,” said Alexei, with his hands raised, “we’re taking advantage of all the same loopholes and shit as all the other crews…”

  Carl raised his arm indicating the outside. “They’re not shucking bodies…”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” shouted Luger with his palms up. “We did what we did, whether regulations say we did it wrong or not. What’s throwing me here is how he ended up at our dig site when we shot him out 60 degrees the other way more than a month ago.”

  The room fell silent.

  “What do we do with him now?” asked Alexei, composed. His light blue eyes often as cold as his demeanour. He kept his head shaved and claimed only British fighters were so bad ass being bald had no effect in the cold, to which Ramon would say as cold as space was a head of hair wouldn’t make a difference.

  “Can’t throw him out,” said Stan. “His ass boomeranged itself back.”

  Ramon gave a humourless chuckle while chewing on a straw removed from its drink.

  From the hall a crash followed by hard pounding footsteps. Peter and Warren barrelled into the cafeteria startling the others.

  “Jesus-fuck, man,” said Trevor, jumping from his seat.

  Both men were speechless and terrified. They turned to the doorway behind them. In walked a man pale and drawn. The others scrambled out of their chairs with a clatter.

  “Felix,” gasped Luger.

  Felix stood in the doorway and scanned the group in a weary daze. “Hey, guys.” His tightly cut hair somehow seemed a mess. A few scars peppered his face from on the job carelessness. He looked out of sorts. The most noticeable difference was a light yellow-green around his eyes like they were blood-shot in that strange colour. Felix wore his old coveralls with a black T-shirt that said BITCHIN in white letters. Over that, he wore his durable faded orange, denim jacket that he kept tools in.

  Wide-eyed, Trevor moved closer slowly waving an arm. “Felix. How are ya, buddy?”

  Felix turned to Trevor, who visibly regretted drawing his attention.

  Brian also stepped forward peering out from under his ball cap. “Feelin’ okay, Felix?”

  Dane whispered harshly at Warren, “How the fuck is this possible?”

  “I checked him,” came the answer equally harsh and quieted. “He was dead.” Warren’s blond stubble never formed a full beard, even at forty three years old. His round glasses rested near the end of his nose. He studied Felix.

  “What the fuck is he now?”

  Warren had no answer.

  Luger stepped forward from the cluster of men. “Felix, why don’t you have a seat?” He motioned to the nearest seat, which was where Ramon’s unfinished drink sat. Ramon cringed.

  Brian stepped closer and held his hand out to help Felix. He touched Felix’s upper back to help guide him to the seat. Felix dropped to the floor and groaned a terrible sound as a rush of air was pulled at once through his gaping mouth. Felix’s right hand reached over and clamped on Brian’s on the way down sending Brian into a screaming fit. The others belted out collective curses and shouts pressing further from the scene and against the walls knocking over chairs or each other.

  Dane and Luger rushed to help Brian after their shock subsided.

  Felix went into a coughing fit. His body recoiled on the floor. Brian’s hand was still hostage. Dane and Luger covered their faces in the insides of their elbows as they tried to free Brian. Felix went into a severe state of dry heaving and groaning in agony.

  Behind them the others clamoured. Trevor rushed forward screaming with a chair above his head. He swung it down as his shadow loomed over Felix when the sudden screams of Dane and Luger stopped him. Felix was unconscious. Brian’s hand was free.

  Reluctantly, some of the men carried Felix to the medical bay where Warren, Luger and Peter observed him, still unconscious on a gurney.

  “His vitals are there, but I don’t understand it,” said Warren. “He was clinically dead.”

  Peter drew a long breath. “I know we’re a long way from home and the whole…” he bobbed his head side to side, “embalming thing might be different, but did you open him up?”

  Warren scoffed and glanced at Felix’s vitals.

  Peter continued taking a closer look at Felix’s torso, which was exposed for the placement of nodes. “If you removed organs, where are the incision marks?”

  “Good question,” said Warren chuckling. “He’s an organ donor. They’re there in the cooler labelled with his name, date and time of removal.” Both Luger and Peter involuntarily glanced. “Check me, go ahead.”

  Luger held up his hands. “Warren, this whole thing is just fuckin’ nuts.”

  “I know,” Warren said.

  Reluctantly Luger stepped to the drawers. He released the first and cool white vapours hissed out. Peter and Warren watched. Luger pulled one canister.

  “It’s his liver,” Luger said.

  “Right?” Warren said. “There should be traces of a Y incision,” he motioned to Peter, “but there’s not even a scar. The kicker?” he exposed Felix’s lower abdomen.

  “Where the fuck’s the belly button?” asked Peter.

  “Call Command,” Luger said to Peter, “fuck this.” He turned to Warren. “Get him on ice, now. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s not Felix.”

  Suddenly, the body writhed and gagged between coughs.

  “Jesus,” shouted Peter, who was closest.

  “Tie it down, tie it down!”

  “Lift the arm.”

  “I can’t hold it!”

  The calamity lasted seconds until the body ceased to struggle. Luger and the others braced Felix to the table with nylon straps. Something like a sigh escaped Felix’s mouth ending in a tight gagging sound. Then, mounds of tiny insects flowed from the mouth.

  “Fuck!”

  They were like yellow-green coloured grasshoppers only translucent and black-eyed with no reflective hint. Peter screamed as one flew up and landed on his shirt. He spasmodically flapped at it, knocking it off and stomped on it repeatedly. Others leapt from the face onto the floor in a scurrying mess. Luger ripped a fire extinguisher from the wall and sprayed Felix’s face point blank. Co2 filled the room, blinding and choking the others.

  Heavy footsteps came into the room.

  “What happened?” shouted Dane.

  Luger, Peter and Warren heaved in large breaths through grimacing mouths. Peter stammered but couldn’t speak.

  Luger turned to Warren. “Burn it and throw it the fuck out.” He looked at Peter and said, “Command.” He needn’t say more. “Where’s Dennis and Brian?”

  “Here, Boss,” came a timid reply.

  “Get our asses out of here. We’re done.”

  Warren scrambled to collect equipment.

  “One of you gawky fucks give me a hand.” No one moved. “Goddamn it, you pussies,” Warren shouted as he threw a handful of latex gloves at random and struck Dane in the chest. Dane picked them up and started putting them on with a look of repulsion. He handed the rest of the gloves behind.

  Stan shook his head. “Ugh, ugh.”

  D
ane tossed them at him anyway then helped Warren, who was trying to fit a black body bag around the corpse. As he bumped it, the chest cavity collapsed like a deflating balloon letting out a disgusting, reeking groan.

  “Jesus!”

  Even Warren recoiled. By the second, the body decomposed.

  “Hey,” said Ramon with a little more concern in his voice than he probably meant, “did you kill all that shit?”

  “I… I… think a couple of those things got away,” said Warren trying to recall the chaos.

  “You shitting me?” said Trevor, involuntarily swatting at his ear.

  “What are we supposed to do about them?” asked Ramon.

  They each looked from one to the other.

  “Look,” said Luger, “they’re bugs. Bottom line we treat ‘em the same.”

  “We’ve got to have bait for pests somewhere,” said Dane. “I’ll see what we have in storage block.”

  “We’ll have to section off the ship,” said Luger.

  “Meaning?” asked Trevor.

  “We’ll have to keep only the most important sections clear until we get picked up.”

  Peter returned. “Command moved. They gave me their coordinates and I fixed position. We’re on the way. We’ll be a safe distance until they can figure out a safe way to get us aboard.”

  “What’d you tell them?” asked Luger.

  “There was a situation that required us to return. We lost one of our crew. Command said they’d head our way once they’re ready for us.”

  “Hey, Dane,” called Carl, who observed the remains more closely. “Doesn’t this shit look like what you found outside?” Warren and Dane drew closer.

  Dane took a nearby set of tweezers and moved the fibres around. “Yeah, only they’re not magnetic.” The more he moved the fibres, the more fibres clung to the tweezers. “Looks like… they’re becoming electro-magnetic.”

  Luger peered over Dane’s shoulder. “What the fuck is it?” He looked back to Warren. “I told you to burn that shit. Get on it.” Warren got back to work but had to scoop or sweep the remains into the body bag.

  Dane held up the tweezers and pulled up a thinning trail of fibres like a long string of spit only in metal shaving form.

  Peter turned to Carl. “Where’s the capsule we recovered?”

  “Transport bay, secured,” Carl replied with a nod of certainty.

  “Let’s go,” said Peter. He and Carl rushed out. “I’ll radio if I find anything.”

  Warren finished clearing off the gurney. The body bag was like a partly filled, lumpy sand bag. Dane went to toss in the tweezers.

  “Sink,” said Warren hurrying to the basin.

  “Toss it in,” said Ramon with his tazer-like cigarette lighter on.

  The fibres caught quickly and burnt out fast as struck cotton. What remained was like burnt wire surrounded with a black residue that coated the wash basin. Warren poured concentrated cleaning solution over all of it. The odour of burnt metal and strong lemons filled the air.

  A crackling over the intercom startled the group as Peter called. “The casket’s just like the body.”

  “Pete, Pete,” called Luger.

  During the exchange Warren worked with Dane and Ramon on burning the remains of the body.

  “Don’t breathe in any of it,” said Warren as he emptied the contents of the body bag into the same wash basin. They turned their heads as a light dust lifted out. It was like pouring dry cement mix.

  “Is there a better place you could be doing that?” asked Trevor.

  Warren finished pouring. He looked up and saw the room filled with dust clouds.

  “Light it, fuck!” said Luger frustrated.

  Ramon lit it up with a whoosh and a burst of heat.

  Peter and Carl returned. They halted at the door.

  “That container,” said Peter, “it let a whole shit load of those things out.” The others stared in horror. “We closed off the section to storage, nothing in or out.”

  Carl covered his face with his arm to protect from dust inhalation. “But there’s still the duct work.”

  “Why don’t we freeze them out?” said Trevor. “Shut off all heat and they die.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Dane.

  “If those things are generated through those fibres somehow, the cold might only make them dormant,” said Alexei.

  “Dormant gets us off this shuttle and someplace safe,” said Stan.

  Carl made for the door in a reluctant jog. “I’m headed to the engine room to shut off heat.”

  “We’ll need supplies,” said Dane. “I need help getting food and water.”

  “How long you expecting us to be stuck, Dane?” asked Trevor.

  Dane furrowed his brow. “What? You think we’re hailing a cab?”

  “Peter said Command is on the way. If we meet them in the middle it won’t take long at all.”

  “We’re still not just going to hop on board,” said Dane. “They’re going to make damn sure we’re not bringing any of those things along, however long that takes.”

  Alexei noticed Brian scratching away at the back of his hand. “Oy, Brian, what’s going on, buddy?”

  Brian looked up at the others trying to be inconspicuous. “Dry skin. What?”

  Trevor looked over the shoulders of the others. “You been at it a while, Brian. Look how red that is.”

  “Let me take a look,” said Warren.

  “It’s nothing,” protested Brian with a scowl.

  Luger stepped in to see for himself. “Let him take a look.”

  After a silent protest Brian held up his hand, palm up.

  “Over,” said Warren not being fooled.

  Brian turned his palm down revealing a deep red irritated patch of skin from the back of his hand and over his wrist leading up his sleeve causing a hushed anonymous gasp.

  “What? Come on! Everybody’s itchy. When was the last time we got to have real baths? Pete was chewing on his nail earlier, why don’t we see what his finger’s looking like?”

  “Easy, Brian,” said Ramon.

  “If it’s just dry skin, I can get some ointment when I gather basic medical supplies for the bridge.”

  “Brian, help Warren get some shit together and hurry back to the command module,” said Luger. “Stan, Trevor, go with Dane.”

  The two groups hurried as the rest scrambled for the bridge.

  Dane, Stan and Trevor raced to the cafeteria. They checked the room before entering.

  “Man, I could use a smoke,” said Stan as they scoured the cupboards.

  Dane chuckled involuntarily as Trevor worked up the nerve to open his first cupboard. His fingertips wiggled as his hand reached for the handle. Slowly, he opened the door. Using his pen he pushed boxes of cereal around.

  “Grab and go,” said Dane startling Trevor.

  Stan rummaged through drawers pulling boxes of snacks. “We’re going to need bags for this shit.”

  Dane looked around. “Try by that sink.”

  Stan turned his head. “Hear that?” he asked. The others stopped. Little thumps against the metal ductwork along with a thin humming chorus grew stronger; each small ping against the metal erratic and like the randomness of rain. “It’s in the ducts, it’s in the ducts!” Stan ran for the door.

  Dane found an aerosol cleaner on one of the counters. “Lighter!” His hand outstretched for Stan. “Lighter, now!”

  Stan dropped the cases and fumbled for his lighter while stepping closer to the doorway. Finding the lighter, he tossed it across the room to Dane. In one motion he lit it and sprayed the cleaner into the duct above eye level just as dark little eyes could be distinguished from the black void within the vent. A burst of flame and the stink of burnt metal followed.

  “Bag that shit,” shouted Dane to Stan and Trevor.

  They hustled as Dane shot two more streams of flame through the vent.
>
  “We’re good, we’re good,” shouted Stan.

  Dane checked the vent again, swiping away the billowing smoke and stink. He couldn’t see through the dark clouds. Not taking any chances he shot two more quick bursts. “Mother fuckers.” He found two more aerosols under the counter. “We’re going to maintenance for more,” he said waving the cans.

  “Lighter,” said Stan motioning to Dane.

  “Fuck you,” said Dane, “you bitched out and took off. Carry that shit. You’ll get it back once we’ve found more.”

  “You’re a bad mother fucker, Dane,” said Stan. “Don’t lose my shit or I’ll kill your ass.”

  Warren and Brian gathered as much as they could in the medical bay. Brian held bags open following Warren around while Warren struggled to keep focus.

  “How much more do we need?” asked Brian. A cold bead of sweat built upon his brow. The ointment Warren put on his arm did nothing to alleviate his maddening desire to scratch. It was like a wound, itchy on the inside. Brian didn’t deliberately scratch but kept finding new and innovative ways to rub it against edges of counters so Warren wouldn’t notice.

  “Let me get some medical tape,” said Warren.

  “We can cut and tie gauze,” protested Brian.

  Warren ignored him and tried to think of anything else they might need. “What else, what else…?” He looked around opening various drawers.

  Brian began coughing and couldn’t stop. Warren took a bottle of water from a nearby mini fridge and passed it. “Take a few drinks.” Warren then went over to a cabinet. “Cough suppressants….”

  Behind him the bottled water smacked against the floor with the glug, glug, glug of water emptying. Warren spun around. Brian’s coughing worsened. He couldn’t get a breath in. His face reddened and his eyes bulged, around them veins rose from the building pressure.

  Warren quickly found an Albuterol mister, connected it to a breathing mask and held it to Brian’s face covering his nose and mouth.

  “Breath, breathe.”

  Brian collapsed. Warren tried to keep the breathing apparatus flush against Brian’s face as Brian convulsed on the floor with each strenuous cough. Then part of his face moved. From under the mask, stress formed creases over Brian’s face and separated like skin from a steamed tomato. Three imperfect sections slid away revealing a bloody, fibrous mess. Beneath the gore emerged a strangely small head the size of a child’s only it wasn’t a child. It was a humanoid version of the insects that sprang from what they took for Felix.

  The apparatus fell from Warren’s hand landing with a dull wap against the floor. Warren screamed. Scrambling, he stumbled for the door tripping over the bags of collected necessities and ran his ass off down the corridor not thinking of closing the door.

  Behind him, soft wet splats struck against the floor. Warren rushed to the bridge empty handed and looked back only once. He entered the bridge and slammed his palm against the door controls frantically trying to close it.

  “Fuck, Warren,” said Carl. “Where’s all the shit?”

  “Where’s Brian?” asked Peter before Warren had a chance to speak.

  “Brian’s not Brian,” gasped Warren with his hand over his face and leaning against the wall of panels and switches. “It changed him, it was him but it’s not anymore.” Warren let out a mixture of fear, confusion and guttural sickness.

  The others recoiled finding distance from him in the crowded room. Luger asked about the others.

  “Don’t know,” said Warren leaning forward with his hands on his knees, sweat on his brow and terror in his eyes. “I just got the fuck back.” He suppressed a cry and wiped the tears from his eyes with the palms of his trembling hands.

  “What are we dealing with here?” asked Luger sternly, trying to get Warren to control himself.

  “One of those giant… things,” came the answer. “Like his body became a shell to incubate it and now it’s out.”

  Dane, Trevor and Stan rushed to the storage block. They stopped outside the bay, Dane’s hand on the control panel to the door. He nodded a silent countdown three… two… one, slapped his hand against the release, the others got ready to run. Dane started the lighter and had an aerosol ready as the door opened. The lights were on. At first sight nothing looked out of the norm. They entered cautiously waiting for an ambush of trilling alien insects.

  Stan and Trevor followed closely as Dane lead them around a corner of shelving units. In the open bay where the larger items were stored they found what was left of Felix’s capsule.

  “Fuck that,” said Stan in hushed disbelief.

  Dane focused on every crevice searching for the invaders. Without turning to face his companions he said, “Lighters, propellant. Go.”

  Trevor went for a shelving unit and hurriedly searched among the containers. Then he felt a light wind against his cheek. Instinctively he swatted away then felt the back of his hand strike something. He looked up and let out a scream.

  Dane was elbows deep rummaging around in a storage drawer. He pulled out a portable torch. The remaining propellant swooshed around in a mostly empty canister. He smashed the head against the edge of the tool chest like a beer bottle. The head came away enough for a fat-foxtail like burst of flame.

  From above Trevor on the higher storage shelves a growing cloud of creatures descended, wings humming. Trevor and Stan ran for the door. Dane tried to cover them by shooting bursts of flame into the cloud. Bunches the alien creatures fell in melted clumps with the steady clatter of a kid’s pack of metal jacks spilling on the floor.

  Dane ran out to the hall and heard the others fleeing. He gave a momentary listen to know which way they went. Dane ran too. He glanced over his shoulder to see the regrouped swarm rounding the corner.

  “Fuck.”

  He didn’t want to lead them to the bridge so he circled back around the other way. Already the ship grew colder. His lungs burned with each cold breath. He looked behind again and they were gone.

 

  Trevor found a maintenance closet and locked himself inside. He turned on the light and rummaged through various chemicals for flammables. Two opened gallons of bleach were the best he could come up with. No lighter.

  “Shit. Fuck.”

  He checked the lock again. His breathing came under control. Trevor looked at his half-filled bag of rations. Some of the contents fell out during escape. He put his head against the door and closed his eyes.

  The hall was quiet. Slowly he reached for the door panel. It was a plain panel with no two way communication like in the other rooms. Trevor collected himself and opened the door. He peeked his head out.

  Trevor heard someone running toward him followed by a growing hum of little wings. Quickly he re-entered the maintenance closet as Stan rounded the corner.

  “Hey,” shouted Stan.

  Trevor frantically worked the panel to close the door.

  “Hey,” Stan’s palms pounded on the metal door, then his boots could be heard running further down the corridor. A series of pings against the door could be heard as if it were under attack by handfuls of paperclips.

  Trevor fumbled against the counter at his back as he panicked. A jostling of items rattled as they knocked over and an eek slipped from Trevor’s mouth. Adrenaline coursed through him. There was nowhere to run. Then, the sounds stopped. The gentle hum carried on after Stan. Trevor slunk to the floor. The half empty bag of food next to him. He looked up to find an apron hanging from a hook. Little good it would do against the falling temperatures of the ship.

  Dane found his way back toward the bridge. He ran to the closed hatch at the end of the hall to his right with the torch in hand, propellant swishing. The lighter and aerosols got left behind. What he heard next stopped him cold. Hard pounding on the metal door and shouting from within muted by the steel.

  Dane looked behind to make sure he still had options. Then he rushed to open the hatch. Metallic pinging against
the doorway followed by horrid gagging sounds, then a constant humming changed his mind.

  Cautiously, Dane backed away and was startled by a high pitched screech. He turned to his left and saw what nothing could prepare him for. A creature almost as big as a man covered in metallic plates. Six limbs with oddly placed joints protruded from its strange torpedo-like body. The creature stood half climbing the wall, one foot still on the floor. Its head a series of shifting plates becoming complicated as they neared what could be assumed was the mouth. Something like a pair of gills undulated along the sides of its neck, and somehow centred in the face four black orbs twitched one way then another as it observed Dane. Then, it emitted a sound like grinding metal, shrill and terrible.The creature took three quick steps toward him along the wall, then a fourth.

  A shout came from Dane’s parted lips as he ran the other way. Another piercing cry followed along with metallic clatter of its tarsal hairs from its limbs and feet upon the steel and aluminium panels of the corridor. Then the sound of a large standing fan sputtering to life forced Dane to turn and look. The creature attempted flight in the otherwise cramped hallway. Each time one of its four wings beat against the walls it sounded like a saw blade skimming metal.

  Dane rushed to the transport never again looking behind. The main ship was compromised but the transport shuttle might be safe. He reached the cargo bay and did a quick search of the hanger, torch ready but he had to be conservative with it. The thing that followed had gone another way or given up.

  “Dane! Holy shit.” Stan came running from the fuel station equipment. He was carrying a case of demolitions devices used for their excavations. Stan was sweating. “Looks like we had the same idea.”

  Dane noticed him alone. “Where’s Trevor?”

  “That mother fucker holed himself up in a maintenance closet, saw me coming and left me outside with those things to die.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  Offended, Stan replied, “Fuck yeah.”

  “Well, when people ask why we left him, we’ll hope they understand.”

  “He had a bag of food with him.”

  Dane noticed only the explosives. “Any food on the ship?”

  “Just what I plan on feeding those mother fuckers if they get on board.”

  “Fuck it,” said Dane. Dane shut off the torch, set it down to cool, and helped Stan. “I’ll get on the intercom. Anyone left hustles their ass to the transport, including Trevor. If there’s trouble, we’re out.”

  “Shuttle’s clean,” said Stan as they resumed loading it.

  Dane went back for the torch.

  “Alright, hey,” said Stan with his hand out, “where’s my shit? My lighter?”

  “Storage, where you bitched out again,” said Dane.

  “Your mother fuckin’ ass better go and fetch that shit,” said Stan.

  “Yeah, after you bend over,” said Dane holding up the torch, “This’ll only tickle, promise.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Bridge got taken,” said Dane. “I made it back just to hear them go.”

  Stan closed the hatch behind them. “Goddamn it, man, what the fuck are those things?” He leaned exhausted with his back against the wall in defeat.

  Dane began heading for the command cabin. “I don’t know. But those things… they got bigger.” Stan looked at him in disbelief. “One of those things, about a teenager’s size, came after me outside the bridge.

  “You’re fucking with me now, Dane.”

  “And they fly.”

  When they reached the command cabin Stan unconsciously began grouping explosives with detonators. “We’re getting out of here, Dane. We’re getting out.”

  The transport shuttle was not large, only large enough to carry about eight with a command cabin to seat two. Below was the larger cargo bay.

  “We got to radio Command, let ‘em know we’re coming,” said Stan.

  “Get on it. I’ll start the ship.”

  Dane set the torch by his feet at the pilot’s seat. Stan kept an explosive and detonator nearby. Dane began waking systems to depressurize the bay and open the bay doors of the main ship. Stan searched for a channel from the co-pilots seat. In all the scramble he couldn’t concentrate enough to remember the standard frequencies used by Command.

  Dane raced back to pull his and Stan’s spacewalk suits from their storage lockers behind the pilots cabin. “Here.” He tossed Stan’s to him then hurried to put on his own.

  They kept watching through the portholes to see if anyone else made it.

  Once Dane finished putting on his gear he activated the intercom while not wasting a moment to get the transport’s controls online. “Anyone left head to the transport deck. We’re abandoning ship. You have five minutes.”

  “We ain’t waiting five minutes,” said Stan, sweating and working the communications channels.

  “Less if those things show up,” replied Dane. “Keep searching those channels and those minutes will fly. Ship is ready and online. Beginning decompression sequence. I won’t initiate point of no return until take-off.”

  Stan kept checking frequencies. “Fuck Trev, Dane.”

  Dane let off of the intercom and said, “Five minutes, then fuck Trev, fuck all.” He paused then looked out into the bay. “We can’t leave the ship like this. Those things will spawn and take it completely over. Then who the fuck knows.”

  Stan chuckled. “You think I didn’t think things through when I went shopping for bombs? Top detonator is primed; the whole stack of explosives I left behind is wired. We leave, ship go boom.” He made an exploding motion expanding his fingers and widening his eyes.

  Dane gave a mirthless chuckle as though strangely comforted to know the ship would be destroyed as soon as they were clear.

  Inside the maintenance closet Trevor listened to the last communication through the one way speaker. Dane’s voice already sounded distant, gone. Trevor stared at the door silently holding his bag of rations ever closer. In minutes it would be only he and those things aboard the large, silent ship.

  Stan kept working the channels until he came across a good line.

  “H… hello?” Stan shouted excitedly. “Command, this is outpost 93-721, copy?”

  A staticky response followed, unclear but there.

  “The survivors are abandoning the main vessel. We require pickup. At present we are inside the transport shuttle headed towards your location. We are looking for intercept and rescue, over.”

  Another response came mixed with static.

  Stan looked at Dane in frustration and shrugged, shaking his head. “Sending our coordinates, over. Looking for pickup and rescue, over.” Stan sent their position in a series of Morse Code-like chirps and squeaks.

  Dane rushed to the portholes and scanned the bay. “That’s time,” he said. “Fuck!” He jumped into the pilot’s chair normally occupied by Dennis, who Dane suspected long and horribly gone. “Get your ass ready,” he said.

  Stan secured himself to the seat left of Dane and listened for Command.

  The engines kicked on, their deep whirring becoming faster and higher in pitch.

  “Shit, shit,” Dane saw someone bursting into the bay. It was Ramon carrying a bag of items over his shoulder, frantically hailing the shuttle. Behind him was a churning steel cloud flying in pursuit.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Stan.

  “Get to the cargo hold,” said Dane. “Get your helmet on. I’m opening the bay…”

  “What?”

  Dane worked feverishly flipping switches on consoles around him. “I’ll depressurize the bay and open our hatch. When the doors open he’ll fly right out, those things too. We’ll get him. Hurry.”

  Stan did as instructed. Dane motioned through the porthole for Ramon to get down. The hanger alarms went off. Ramon was terror-stricken. Yellow hazard lights flashed while the shuttle rose from the steel floor. Depressurization too
k moments. Dane watched as unsecured carts and containers were pulled by the vacuum of space. The shuttle faced away from the bay door. Ramon appeared to be screaming as he held on to a strapped cluster of silver loaded crates. A cloud of steel pulled quickly out of sight and into space. In moments Ramon followed clinging to the bag as if it might save him.

  Then it was over. Airlessness and weightlessness overtook the bay. Dane turned the shuttle quickly banging and scraping against the floor or ceiling.

  Once clear, Dane accelerated ramming various carts and raced for Ramon. Outside the debris scattered like slow moving confetti, a distorted perception as they hurtled through space.

  Dane activated all exterior lights and scanned the debris for Ramon until finally locating him. Carefully nudging the boosters to catch up and turn simultaneously, Dane called to Stan over the intercom. “Get ready.”

  Stan secured a pair of boosters to his arms. Each booster had small jets at the elbows to propel him. Stan leaped into the void for his comrade. Skilled with the boosters he retrieved Ramon and returned in under a minute.

  “Shut the hatch, shut the hatch,” screamed Stan over his headset.

  Dane quickly began the closing and pressurization of the hatch. He swung the ship around and glanced up to see the bow of the Command vessel bearing down.

  “Fuck,” Dane fired jets to steer the shuttle hard to avoid collision. The command vessel rushed by in a smear of modules and compartments before slowing to a stop. The link up point was aligned perfectly to the shuttle.

  Dane called to Stan over the speaker. “You guys alright? How is he?”

  Stan replied over a scratchy communication. “We got to get him to a medical bay now or we’re going to lose him.”

  “Perfect,” said Dane, “Command nearly ran us over. I’m going to link us up. Thirty seconds.”

  The shuttle was stable and the tunnel extension was connecting. Dane left the controls and helped secure Ramon to a stretcher. They tossed his bag of supplies aside.

  “Hang on, Ray, hang on,” Stan encouraged. Stan shot a glance at Dane, who could see the fear in his eyes.

  A muted clang later and the safety light came on.

  “Move,” shouted Dane. The shuttle hatch released and the three chased down the corridor to the open hatch of the Command vessel. They were greeted at the other end by five men in spacesuits. Taking the stretcher they shouted to Dane and Stan, “Get to the decontamination chamber.” None of them looked up as they rushed Ramon to their emergency medical station just inside Command.

  Dane and Stan looked on to be sure their friend was fine.

  “Hurry,” shouted one of the men. His voice was strangely familiar. Muffled by the helmet, he sounded like… someone.

  Dane and Stan took a step forward. The man who spoke turned to face them and shouted, “Hurry.”

  Dane gasped.

  “What the fuck?” The words came out of Stan’s trembling lips.

  The man in the suit was Felix, but strangely different.

  Each of the other men scowled at them for not following directions. They were also Felix and also somehow different.

  Behind Dane and Stan a voice startled them.

  “You made it, good.” There was a strange quality to the voice, like a clicking at the back of the throat as he spoke. As the two turned to see the speaker they froze. It too was Felix only a more perfect one than even the one they knew; no scars and neat.

  Dane and Stan stepped backward awkwardly not knowing which way to go.

  The muted hiss of the Felix’s removing their helmets broke Dane and Stan’s terror stricken spell. They turned back to see the Felix’s setting their helmets down. One knelt beside an unconscious Ramon. Spasms occasionally jerked a limb. The Felix leaned over Ramon. Then, the oddity of this and the other Felix was revealed. Its face parted in sections as if his face were made of hard plates revealing something alien beneath. The opened face was like a metallic flower, each petal some strangely positioned segment. From within came a thick cloud of shimmering green. Dane recognized it at once.

  Stan whimpered as they looked on.

  The cloud descended upon Ramon’s agonized features. His veins protruded as a result of his time in the void. The cloud plunged into his grimaced mouth, choking him. Coughing commenced and some of the shimmering cloud exploded from his nostrils followed by a stunted gasp, then silence and his tense body slowly relaxed.

  Dane’s hands were naked without the torch.

  Stan howled and charged at the cluster swarmed around his friend. Dane chased after. Stan leaped into the group and tackled the one that brought down the cloud on Ramon.

  Dane attacked the others. His gloved fists clubbed against their cold, solid faces. Each strike sent a tremor through his fists and up his forearms. The imperfect Felix’s took their beatings quietly.

  Stan checked Ramon. Dane went to take their friend by the legs so they could carry him off. The perfect Felix calmly walked over to them and chuckled.

  Dane and Stan desperately struggled to get their friend up. Ramon didn’t move. Then an eruption of those tiny insects exploded like a raging flood from his mouth gushing over his face and chest. Ramon was gone.

  Stan screamed and took a loose helmet in his hands. Tears streaming, he raised it above his head and brought it down with a horrific wet thud. The terrible sound echoed in the large open bay. Dane dropped the legs and watched horrified, mouth agape. Stan wailed and struck again and again. His friend was lost and he would not let those things harm him anymore. The remaining insects skittered away under Ramon’s clothing or beneath him and out of sight.

  The Felix’s watched while the one standing bore a simple grin.

  Stan let the bloodied helmet fall from his hands to the side with a clunk and he sobbed.

  Dane noticed something strange happening to Ramon. His gory face was overcome with the green fibrous metal, which grew like a fast spreading moss. Ramon’s body began to sit up.

  Dane quickly grabbed Stan under the arm and pulled him back. Stan wiped the tears to see his friend looking at him, only it wasn’t Ramon. His face reconstructed until it was a poorer version of Felix than the others. His face appeared hard and plated, expressionless.

  The perfect Felix said as Dane got Stan to his feet. “His makeup interferes with the one from the void.”

  “What are you?” asked Dane, carefully backing away and pulling Stan toward the tunnel.

  The other Felix’s sprang up to their feet including the newest addition startling Dane and Stan.

  The one that spoke answered. “Your kind might declare us symbiont.” That strange clicking continued as it spoke. “We evolve the host,” it took a step forward. The others followed. Dane and Stan kept walking backward toward the tunnel back to the shuttle. “Our kind gains the knowledge of their kind.”

  “That’s… that’s…” stammered Stan.

  “Evolutionary,” said Felix. It lunged forward, the others behind it.

  “Run!” Stan pushed Dane, who sprinted to the shuttle.

  “Stan.” Dane paused, but Stan sacrificed himself and was hauled down by the others. The perfect Felix chased after Dane. Dane sprinted the rest of the way. Felix was absurdly quick.

  Dane reached the shuttle and pulled the emergency close lever for the hatch, then bolted for the pilot’s controls. Leaping and grabbing hold of the hatch, Felix pulled itself inside as it shut.

  Dane secured part of his restraints, put on his helmet, grabbed the controls and ripped the shuttle clear. The tunnel pulled apart like it was made of paper. The others were pulled outside drifting into space; limbs stretched grabbing for anything to stop themselves. Unsuccessful, they spun out like rotor blades into eternal night.

  Dane struggled to seal his helmet and set his oxygen.

  Felix scanned the ship searching for Dane.

  Dane found the detonator for the charges Stan had set and kept it near. He steered the ship
starboard side to the Command vessel. As he moved the shuttle he noticed the Command ship was incomplete. Gaping sections were missing as if the ship were still under construction. Green fibrous material coated those areas. The shuttle’s lights cast a shimmering gloss over edges of the green material.

  Had the organisms taken Command?

  Dane moved the shuttle backward to ram the imposter ship and left the controls with the torch ready in hand. He had to check the explosives. The second detonator for their main ship was by the co-pilot’s centre where Stan made contact with the Command ship for help. Whether that’s who he spoke to or if it was in fact the Felix was unclear. Dane stared hard at the two potent solutions in his hands. One was primed and ready to take out Luger’s compromised ship. Stan hadn’t set the second. But Dane would.

  Dane carefully went to the lower deck. The doors to the storage bay were already open. Dane sneaked his way to the explosives crate Stan had packed. He no sooner found the crate when he heard the strange voice.

  “I’ve searched for you, Dane.” The clicking at the back of its throat altered what would have been a perfect likeness for Felix, though the original had a slight southern drawl. It advanced with purpose. “Your kind shares something with all others,” it said through its unmoving face.

  “What’d that be?” asked Dane eyeing the explosives before returning his glance to the Felix.

  “You matter so much. The centre of the universe, when you know nothing of what has only begun to waken.”

  “That so?” Dane quickly grabbed an explosive and ran off, firing a quick stream of flame that licked the side of the evading Felix’s face. A dark smear coated its left cheek. Dane disappeared, hiding among the empty crates.

  “Your knowledge of this shuttle will become ours. You will lead me back to our ship, and we will return to glory.”

  Dane worked quickly setting the lone explosive he grabbed. The Felix stalked between large, empty crates. Dane kept ahead careful not to walk into a dead end.

  “We have encountered the greatest of predators, meticulous hunters,” at that, the distant sound of the voice paused long enough to be interrupted by the Felix landing softly in front of Dane. It backhanded him and said, “You will not escape.”

  Dane fell backward and the flame of the torch went out as it was lost among the crates. He also lost his grip on the explosive as it clinked passed the Felix and rolled. Dane had sweat so badly his damp hair looked like teeth from a circular saw blade. Wide eyed he tried to crawl away backward. Felix stared at him with a cold, humourless smile.

  Dane Struggled to his feet and dashed away. Felix chuckled behind. It kept up effortlessly leaping from crate to ceiling and speedily crawling over support beams as if they were pillows on the ground.

  Dane found his way to the heavy equipment for the digs. Felix caught up and dropped behind him.

  “Too bad for me you’re so ‘evolved,’” Dane said, then quickly reached behind an apparatus and flipped two switches. He leaped out of the way as Felix came hurtling at him. Felix collided with a large flat surface like a sledge against an anvil.

  Dane fell to a knee covering his ears. Both detonators clanged at his feet. “It’s what we call an electromagnet,” said Dane. “AKA giant fucking magnet.”

  Felix struggled against the surface of the electromagnet. It then liquefied and tried to manifest into another form. The green fibrous material worked and reworked fighting against the immense magnetism. A terrible shrieking came from the mess that sounded like screaming into a metal box.

  Dane collected the detonators and fled.

  In the next moment Dane gasped and looked down at a long, black spike that poked out from the front of his suit on the right side of his chest.

  The terrible clicking voice was no longer a replica of Felix’s but more like putting metal to a grinding wheel to make shrieking alien speech. It was like a sea urchin, its long black spikes moved like feelers searching for Dane.

  Dane fought against the pain and struggled to get free.

  A Felix shrieked through a victorious grin still maintaining its visage.

  The knowledge gained by the alien was symbiotic, an exchange on a psychological level. Dane felt his memories not being taken but absorbed. The sensation was a bizarre smudging of his past that felt like his mind being groped. In exchange a floodgate exploded with lifetimes of alien worlds, moons, and species overwhelmed Dane until he physically gagged. The new memories ended with countless deaths of each species overtaken; civilizations crumbling.

  Dane struggled to remain conscious. Unable to speak, he let his will do the talking. He refused to succumb.

  Dane walked against the spike to free himself and the alien struggled to keep him. The tip of the spike curled like a finger motioning to come back. Dane became lightheaded more from shock than the wound. From what Felix had learned of human anatomy, Dane’s vitals were missed. A dead Dane was of no use.

  Each step was more difficult than the last but Dane willed his feet to move. He turned his body left to turn with the spike. Dane was free.

  He almost dropped to the floor. The groan that escaped was like no other sound he’d ever made. Collapsing would have been easy but his work was not done.

  Dane turned to face the wreckage of his tormentor as it struggled against the irresistible power of the magnet. A swirling mass of shimmering green fibres became confused chowder of alien torsos and limbs. The Felix form trembled with effort to push away only to slam back against it. Felix opened its mouth in a desperate attempt to release that green death cloud but the magnetism pulled the cloud back.

  A huff of air left Dane’s mouth as close to a laugh as he could muster. He stood outside of its range as the corner of Dane’s lips curled into a smile.

  “Baby homesick?” asked Dane tauntingly. “Don’t worry, I’m sending you back to your fake-ass ship with a case of explosives straight up its ass.”

  Dane found a medical kit, cleaned his wounds with painful cries using every germ cleaner available on his chest and pouring the rest down his back, and bandaged himself as best he could. He found another space suit to replace his because of the punctures. The suit belonged to Dennis and was a bit oversized. Next, he found the booster pack and checked it. There was enough juice for what Dane had planned.

  Dane depressurized the bay. Felix showed no signs of harm from it as it glared at him from the churning pool of metal fibres. Dane secured the case of explosives to the back of the magnet weaving heavy duty straps to eyelets meant for cables. A grin crossed his face. Dane opened the bay hatch and released the magnet from its binding.

  Moving the magnet to the open hatch was easy in zero gravity. Dane equipped himself with the booster pack and guided the alien, explosives and all, to its kin. He had nothing clever to say. He let the ruckus of Felix’s screams do it for him.

  Dane let the magnet go and it drifted closer and closer.

  A crackling came over his headset.

  “Dane, Dane!”

  Looking all around, Dane turned on his helmet lights and found Stan drifting well above.

  “Are you shitting me?” hollered Dane.

  “I got out, I got out,” came the reply.

  “You’re full of shit,” said Dane.

  “When the tunnel ripped away we all came out,” said Stan. Dane activated tiny bursts from his boosters to keep up with the drifting Stan.

  “Dane, I promise you, it’s me!”

  Dane kept his helmet lights on Stan in part to keep him blind and to study his face. There appeared to be no seams sectioning off his face with metal plates only sweat and creases on the brow of a terrified man.

  “Please…” pleaded Stan shielding his face from the bright lights. A look of terror upon his face suggested his own uncertainty of his comrade. “Why you in Dennis’s gear?”

  Dane paused.

  “Tore a hole in mine.” He turned his lights away letting Stan study him. After a f
ew moments Dane slowly reached out his hand. Stan watched him carefully. Reluctantly Stan took his hand.

  “We’re going home,” said Dane.

  "What was that thing you sent into the void?”

  “That gift you packed on the shuttle,” said Dane, “I put a bow on it and shipped it. Now, we get back to the shuttle, get a little distance and blow those fuckers back to hell.” He held up the detonator he secured to a loop on his suit for a safety cable.

  Stan smiled and chuckled anxiously. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, man.”

  Upon returning to the shuttle, Stan worked the communications console and managed to find one of the other outposts. They in turn contacted their base of operations on a moon from Neptune.

  Stan and Dane would be saved yet. They just had to survive long enough to get picked up.

  “What do we do about Trevor?” asked Stan clutching the bag Ramon left behind.

  Dane considered the question with care. “I can’t take him out.”

  Stan offered a trembling, merciful hand rather than a vengeful one. Dane passed the detonator.

  They shut down the exterior lights of the shuttle and stared out the front windows.

  Dane swallowed hard. “Let’s watch some fireworks.”

  The pack of rations between them; each held their respective detonator and pressed the triggers. In the distance, two bright flashes blinded them. The matter that was the mock vessel exploded only to come crashing back choked into silence. Then, just as quickly, darkness reigned leaving greenish blotches in their vision like sunspots.

  Stan averted his eyes from the brightness. He glimpsed light upon Dane’s sweating face. A bead ran down the edge of his wincing face. Was it sweat?

  Dane caught Stan staring and turned slowly to face him.

  A moment of silence passed. Dampness glazed Stan’s troubled brow. With the slightest of tremors Stan asked, “You really you?”