Savage By Nature

by Jacob Russell Dring

  “Connell,” Felina said. “There are a few things you should know about the Xeno carnem.”

  “The what?” Connell looked at her cockeyed.

  “The, uh…the Xeno carnem—that’s what Asher has called the extraterrestrial strain.”

  “It’s ‘alien flesh,’” Landham said randomly, sounding a bit curious but not enthusiastic the least. “In Greek and Latin, I believe.”

  “Wow, um…yes, he’s right,” Felina said.

  “Look at the big brain on Landham,” Calloway said.

  Landham gave him an anvil-heavy look before carrying on. Landham had the rear of their cluster secure, with Wisniewski cravenly walking directly in front of him, between the other documenters, Palmer, and Connell. But at present they were held up, because as much as Felina hated postponing the hopeful rescue of Cassel and Godunov particularly, she knew this was necessary.

  “Fine,” Connell sighed. “What about these Xeno things should we know? That they have acid for blood and spit fire?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Felina suppressed a chuckle. She grew solemn then as the facts returned to her in waves, unfortunately from none other than Asher himself. “Foremost, they have no eyes, ears, or nostrils. They detect heat, that’s how they see; organic heat, Asher insinuated. Why they passed Wisniewski—and hopefully Cassel and Godunov—while pursuing the scientists, I don’t know. Maybe motion priority, or they simply didn’t glimpse the other heat signatures. But they can also scale walls, even the ceiling; according to Asher, while kept in their chambers, they would do this to observe bulkheads and the details of their confinement.”

  “Great. Intelligent killing machines.” Connell scoffed and shook his head.

  “Of course, man, the long heads!” Palmer said. “Huge brains, mental capacity off the charts! Oh, fuck me…”

  Palmer shook his head too but then bowed it and seemed to briefly contemplate the meaning of life itself while Felina continued.

  “Lastly,” she sighed, tiresome, “if it makes any difference with guns like yours—”

  “Trust me, Sabartinelli,” Connell said genuinely, “every tidbit of information matters right now.”

  “Okay, well…Asher mentioned they’re very resilient, as you could tell—when Landham hit it in the side of its face, it was still mobile. But apparently its limbs are most fragile, and less protected with the epidermal carapaces like that of its head and torso.”

  “Good to know,” Connell nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Thanks.”

  “I wish I could tell you more,” Felina said, shrugging. “But it’s all any of us know. Well, except for…Calloway?”

  “So far as the specimens themselves go, no,” Calloway said, sounding sincere. “Madhavari…if that’s who it really was…knew no more than Asher told us, it seemed.”

  “Madhavari?” Landham asked, raising a brow. “I’ve bumped into him a couple of times these past few months. Good man.”

  “An inside scoop into MALBO,” Calloway said, glancing between Landham and Connell. “Anyway, the Captain is behind Project Xeno a hundred percent. It’s Cassel who has been the skeptical one; all the more reason why we need to save her, SC6.”

  “Enough of that,” Connell said, taking lead again. “We’re Remoras. Besides, Cassel is a tough and resourceful woman; you mustn’t worry too much about her, even unarmed.”

  “To be frank, I’m not really,” Calloway said, squinting. “Regardless of the guns, I’m worried about us.”

  7

  Caelen Connell’s reassurance had been fleeting, as he himself was probably feeling pulses of doubt as well. They nevertheless continued on their path, in their surprisingly uniformed cluster. Passing the mutilated corpse of Taylor Belle was tough to say the least, especially with the uneasy stomachs of the documenters. Palmer gagged, Landham’s face scrunched up, and Connell grimaced. Wisniewski retched off to the side, Baxter dry heaved, and the others just covered their disgusted faces so as to not only hide it but repress it too. Bile tickled the back of Felina’s throat and she was sure she would lose it, then her gaze drifted to the halved corpse of the Xeno. It sure bled profusely, and the reek it emitted was a foul wet-dog smell mixed with something resemblant of a skunk’s spray.

  A sound up ahead, like the skittering of claws on metal.

  The once serene atmosphere of the white motif corridors had since been decimated by this catastrophe alone. And worse yet, all they had witnessed was but a single creature kill an armed woman. Felina couldn’t wrap her head around the notion of nearly a dozen more, or even slightly less, massacring unarmed men and women just doing their jobs aboard the vessel. Subtracting those knowledgeable of the Xeno Project in MALBO, she reckoned that made at least sixty-five oblivious souls on the Manticore.

  More sounds, now.

  Intermittent hissing and audible salivating, the latter of which made her skin crawl in more ways than one. Then a woman’s screech punctuated by an adult man screaming out of rage.

  “C’mon!” Connell barked, and rushed forward.

  His boots crunched on top of large flat shards of glass from the fragmented hexagonal door. Into the main labs’ foyer he entered, pouring in behind him Palmer and the others.

  “Oh, shit!” Palmer exclaimed.

  A healthy specimen stood upright, confronting Godunov and Cassel. Godunov had taken a stand between them, Cassel in a corner where clearly he had been curled moments ago, too. She was no longer cowering, however, but reaching out to grab his arm, her face frozen in a wretched display of shock and terror. Ire was present in her voice, too, as she called his name and her voice scratched like gravel. But he roared, he insisted, he waved his arms at the Xeno as if able to fend it off.

  This was no wild animal, though, not to the likes of those earthbound.

  It was about to pounce on Godunov, who was dwarfed only by a few inches, but Connell ended this. Palmer’s exclamation hadn’t fazed it the least since the creatures apparently couldn’t detect noise, but the Seighty in Connell’s hands spoke beyond sound. A lengthy burst walloped it in the side of its oblong head, misting the air with blood but not having the expected effect. The creature twirled, screeching shrilly, and tumbled onto the floor. It began spinning wildly, as if a dog frantically trying to scratch an itch behind its ear using the ground.

  In this moment of distraction between themselves and the creature, Godunov gave Cassel his hand and together they rushed over to the group.

  “Have you seen Asher?” Connell asked Cassel immediately, grabbing her arm. Her face was glistening with sweat, strands of curly black hair matted to her forehead and temples.

  “No, no I haven’t!” Cassel panted. “Where’s Taylor?”

  Connell shook his head gravely, and Cassel’s expression was fathoms deeper than simple anger.

  “Permission to neutralize, sir?” Palmer said shakily, taking a step forward with rifle reluctantly raised.

  “Permission perpetually granted, dammit,” Connell sighed. And then Cassel sidestepped the SC6 leader to snatch his Adhera-Holstered Deci handgun. Connell started to say something but she was already four feet from him and just out of Palmer’s extended reach. Cassel, her expression austere and disturbingly apathetic, approached the rising yet twitching Xeno with Deci raised in her right hand alone. Her forefinger squeezed the trigger repetitively, hammering the creature with 10mm rounds without relent. At first it seemed unfazed by the small caliber impacts, but they didn’t cease and her aim was quick to improve; bullets started chipping away pieces of its lower jaw, then punching through the already damaged hide of its oblong head. It released a gurgling, dying screech before collapsing in a heap, regurgitating blood and viscid saliva.

  It took fourteen rounds to finally put down the Xeno, but even after it took its final breath Cassel towered over it, squeezing the Deci’s trigger. By this time Palmer and Connell had caught up to her, the latter putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. This didn’t startle her to his surprise, but by
then she’d emptied the eighteen-round magazine into the creature.

  “Here you go,” Cassel said monotonously, handing Connell the Deci over her shoulder, its slide locked back into the empty position.

  “Fuck that,” Connell said with a dry laugh. He took the Deci only to eject the magazine, slam a fresh one home, and return it to her. “‘Til we get our asses back to the Manticore’s Spleen.”

  Cassel nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You alright?” Connell asked, sincere concern in his eye. He didn’t leave Godunov out of his question’s coverage.

  “As well as we could be,” the big man replied. “Given the circumstances.”

  “Right, well…Cassel—Ensign—unless you object, I’ve already issued my men to conduct a C&S of main labs. MALBO if necessary.”

  Cassel’s eyes didn’t widen but she did tilt her head and glare at Felina in particular.

  “Let’s be honest, here,” Connell said bluntly. “We all need the truth after seeing that thing out there butcher Taylor. And according to Wisniewski…chase some other scientists out of this foyer, into the corridor, attack them then drag their corpses into the damn walls. So yeah…facts, not façades.”

  Cassel sighed, rubbing her brow.

  “You’re right. Where to begin?”

  “We can start by splitting up. The documenters should all be relocated safely back to the security center, hoping it hasn’t been compromised by now. Second resort, the bridge.”

  “No,” Felina stepped forward, swallowing more than just a lump of fear. “I want to join. I need to.”

  “Bullshit,” Connell said firmly.

  “Wait.” Cassel strode forward, between the two. She gave Connell a brief but fierce look, and he backed off a step, then she looked at Felina with consideration. “Why would you wanna risk your life just to join these guys? Have you ever even fired a gun before?”

  “I own a Deci-CIV back on earth, used to visit the range once a week. Nothing more, though. And why? Because I need to know how this happened, and not by being told. We need to find Asher.”

  “Fair enough,” Cassel said, seeming relieved that Felina was strong beyond just words. She then raised her eyebrow. “You hope he’s alive.”

  “Sorely, yes.” Felina shifted her composure. “And you?”

  “I could care fucking less,” she replied blatantly. She nodded at Connell and just then a series of screams erupted from deep within the main labs—human and otherwise. “Leave me Landham to help escort them back to the security center. Those that wanna go, that is. Once we arrive, hoping that all is uncompromised, I’ll send Arevalo and Skugs your way.”

  “Affirmative,” Connell nodded. He looked back at Landham and grasped the man’s right forearm with his own hand, which was reciprocated. This camaraderie handshake was brief and exchanged with Palmer as well. Landham then nodded to the other documenters and they began to divide.

  Felina remained with Connell and Palmer, the latter of whom reluctantly gave her his Deci. Then Landham gave Loudon his Deci when she declared her desire to join their C&S as well. There was no surprise in this, especially with Felina going. But it did leave the others to just Landham and Cassel, a Seighty and Deci between them both.

  Mikhail Landham on his own was a force to be reckoned with, however, and everyone respected this as a form of comfort.

  Besides, Cassel reassured them that with the alarm going off, the corridors wouldn’t be entirely empty. And she wasn’t referring to panicky personnel, either, although she wasn’t doubting their presence. She suggested that, if not the two remaining sentinels or even Ikabu himself, SC6 may be patrolling as well.

  “We Remoras do have a thing for protecting others,” Connell said, a weak smirk present.

  “Then get to it,” Cassel said with neither amusement nor spite. She was caving to the gravity of the situation and letting it sink into her flesh so that it engulfed her disposition as well. Felina could read it in her eyes easily because she felt the same way.

  And now Felina had a gun in her hand; Palmer had given her the spare magazine, too, which she’d pocketed.

  As they separated, Connell told Landham to salvage Taylor’s pistol as well; they needed to utilize all that was available to them.

  “Looks like we’re on our own,” Connell sighed. He looked at Palmer, who swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded back solemnly. He then exchanged glances with Felina and Loudon. “You two, stay between me and Palmer—he’s got our rear, which is just as if not more important than our front. Remain huddled but don’t trip on each other’s heels, nor ours. If we have to reload or are incapacitated, distracted, anything of the like—then use your pistols. Last resort. Okay?”

  “Affirmative,” Loudon said sarcastically.

  Connell rolled his eyes. “Alright. Let’s get on with it.”

  They entered main labs via the auto-door which still fortunately functioned to the right of the empty front desks. It slid open so smooth and fast that any other time it would be appreciated, but now it just startled them—soldier and documenter the same.

  In a situation like this, under such unprecedented circumstances, the human condition was not very disparate based on profession. Sure, the Remoras had military training which heightened their senses, dulled their fears, and amplified courage. They had tunnel-vision motivation and teamwork that excelled any sport known to man. But the trouble was this—aboard the Manticore at present, Earth’s standards did not apply. Nor did any amid the stars before this moment; the Xeno carnem were organisms beyond their understanding, regardless of the details they had learned of merely hours earlier.

  Fear was fear and it wasn’t subsiding easier for one person more than the other.

  If the all-white corridors were well-lit and as they should be, the silence wouldn’t have been so unnerving. Alas, several of the LED panels flickered, as many appeared damaged, and the motif had welcomed a splash of crimson. Human blood created abstract murals of death along the walls and floors, some in wide arcs while others in long smears. Handprints were uncommon, probably because none of the victims were able to reach out.

  This said, corpses were seldom seen.

  Those that were—lifelessly beyond help. Their white coats were shredded if present at all, their clothes and flesh one with the postmortem terror of being horrifically mutilated. En route through the corridors, clearing each empty room as they proceeded without hearing a sound to their surprise, they spotted four severed heads and seven corpses total. Fortunately the decapitated bodies matched up with their missing counterparts, or else the puzzle would’ve been most upsetting, although the distances between them were often disturbing.

  Regardless, there was little about this calamitous scene that struck them as anything but unnerving.

  “How much further to MALBO?” Connell whispered, glancing over his back at Felina.

  “Good thing we chose to tag along, huh?” Felina replied in her normal voice, making Connell cringe. “Remember, they’re deaf. Scream if you want. Come to think of it, it might actually help us find Asher quicker—”

  Felina dramatically opened her mouth to prepare to call out, but Connell halted their group midstride and firmly gestured her to stop.

  “Too disorienting,” he said. “Besides, it might further a panic—not by any survivors, but the creatures. If people start swarming toward us calling out, that could draw a flood of the creatures our way. And in these narrow corridors, I don’t like that.”

  “Bottlenecked combat, we got guns and they don’t,” Palmer shrugged. “What’s not to like?”

  “The fact that they can climb walls and walk on the ceilings, man,” Connell snapped back, before ultimately resuming their vigilant progress. He scoffed. “Hell, no. I prefer open areas.”

  “Well, you’re gonna get that soon…two rights from now.” Felina exhaled coolly, trying to steady herself. “The corridor will open up into a wide area before ramping down to the…oh, shit.”

  “What?”
Loudon said.

  “What is it?” Connell stopped them again.

  “I just remembered…MALBO entrance, down the ramp I mentioned up ahead—” Felina shrugged with a look of surrender in her eyes “—it requires authorization.”

  “Dammit, Cassel!” Connell was furious.

  “Wait,” Loudon said, lips writhing back like a belligerent wolf, “are you suggesting that bitch led us to die in here?”

  “No, no,” Palmer’s voice took them by surprise, simply that it was he who offered reassurance. And despite all that he’s said before, now his voice neither wavered nor dipped—it was genuine. Connell wasn’t the only one that could easily read this. “No, impossible. Cassel’s got grit, man, and you can tell…Connell, you know it, deep down—she fuckin’ hates Asher. And not just him, ya know? But everything. She always has this disgruntled front toward him, even when Keyes is around. A blind man could see it. And now that this shit’s gone down? I can see why…it ain’t just about Asher being an asshole. It’s ‘cause she was privy and she fuckin’ hated it.”

  “Most of all,” Connell said under his breath, temporarily zoning out, “she hated knowing about it and not being able to do anything against it.”

  “Could’ve been a front,” Loudon suggested. “To persuade your views about her, since Asher’s generally unlikable. So that in the right moment…like this…she could lock the door behind us, so to speak.”

  “No, Loudon, c’mon. Listen to yourself. You and I both know Cassel is for this…well, not exactly how it’s happened, but she wants the truth known and she wants Project Xeno belly-up.” Felina sighed. “Besides, you heard Calloway—he’s got the skinny on this, and according to him, hell according to Madhavari, Cassel is one of the few good seeds aboard this damn vessel.”

  Loudon scoffed. “Calloway? What a joke, the ‘man’ didn’t even opt to join us. He took the easy way out!”