Savage By Nature

by Jacob Russell Dring

  “He isn’t a soldier, Loudon. Neither are we…not on the outside, at least, not me. But inside—” Felina pounded her breastbone “—we’re more than just documenters. Now trust me in trusting him and trusting Cassel, okay? Best we not start to turn on each other all at once. I imagine Cassel just had a moment of weakness in thought…we can all attest to experiencing those. Especially in a situation like this…”

  Loudon nodded, deeply persuaded.

  “Alright,” she finally said, not fully expressing her accordance except what was necessary. “Then what do we do now, supposing that bay door is locked?”

  “Wait, it’s a bay door?” Connell smirked with a scoff and shake of his head, two expressions that invalidated the prior. When Felina confirmed, he cursed under his breath; his voice snapped like a raw tree branch.

  “Care to enlighten us?” Loudon glowered.

  Connell sighed. “In the event of such an alarm, auto-doors are unaffected, unless by bridge control and a direct order from the Captain. Bay doors, however—as I should’ve guessed this MALBO place had—go on lockdown. Sealed shut, end of story. The only person who can override it is Captain Keyes himself, although in most vessels it can be done via the bridge, too.”

  “I have a question,” Felina said, squinting. She didn’t wait for permission to continue when she did. “Why on Earth do you people have no earpiece communications with each other, or the bridge for that matter? Or, hell, with the security center!?”

  “I’m sorry, but,” Palmer chuckled, “did you just say ‘why on Earth’?”

  Connell’s solemnity broke with a smirk and shake of his head. He sighed, kneading his brow.

  Felina rolled her eyes. “Answer me, please.”

  “Honestly, Sabartinelli, you got me,” Connell finally said. His expression reverted to the graveness of the situation. “Preaching to the choir, don’t make any damn sense…especially on a vessel this big. But hey—ain’t the only weird thing about being here. Limited munitions, restricted Intel…obviously…” he extended his arms and pivoted on his heels slightly to exemplify the blood-splattered walls.

  “Hey, man, they probably didn’t wanna risk us eavesdropping on their confidential lab work talk. Alien this, alien that, I imagine that’d grind our gears a bit, ya know?”

  For once, Felina thought, Palmer made a good point.

  But we’re still up shit creek without a paddle, she thought exasperatedly.

  “Second right, you said?” Connell’s voice snapped her out of a transient daze.

  “Yes,” she replied, catching up with the group; they hadn’t left her behind, of course, but she was just about to get in Palmer’s way. Loudon remained alert, her Deci held with both hands to locked elbows, muzzle aimed at the floor at a cautious angle.

  “Coming up on number one,” he said, and pressed his cheek to the Seighty’s receiver while gazing down its iron sights. Knees bent slightly, he vigilantly cleared the mouth of the right turn, which was just another analysis laboratory. The lighting in it, like the others, was undamaged; this made C&S them easier. The corridors’ lighting remained mutely flickering, toying with their eyes and thus exacerbating their paranoia.

  Connell quickly cleared the lab, with Palmer at his six while the other two lingered in the hallway, heads constantly pivoting. Just as the others, they C&S it then returned to the hallway and resumed progress.

  “Keep it tight,” Connell said as they approached not only their next right but the last path to take along this corridor, except to turn back. Connell gathered his breaths. “Slowly…”

  The intermediate room looked as it had hours ago to Felina and Loudon—except for the lighting. Here, there was none; the panels to the high ceiling were neither flickering nor visibly damaged, but simply shut off. Felina assumed it was part of the lockdown procedure, as the bay door ahead of them could be seen sealed shut. The only offered illumination was the white light that did not blink in here as it did elsewhere but instead whirled on a pivot from the ceiling, periodically splashing the walls with its tapered beam.

  Felina felt dizzy in a matter of seconds, adding to her precedential nausea.

  She paused to rub her brow and grunt under her breath. Loudon stopped beside her to pat a shoulder and ask quietly if she was feeling alright.

  “I’m good, just dizzy…” Felina mumbled.

  “Yeah, I feel it too.”

  “How’s it look, Connell?” Palmer asked from the back of the group.

  Connell advanced while the two women lingered near the center of the wide antechamber. He activated the stock-integrated flashlight on the Seighty and an LED beam extended before it. He moved gingerly, waving the weapon around just as so, but saw nothing beyond the norm here. The walls were unsullied by gore or damage, the floor and ceiling likewise, even the bay door appeared in right condition.

  Palmer activated his Seighty’s flashlight, too.

  “Connell, hold!” Palmer snapped all of a sudden, startling the women and freezing Connell’s blood. He feared there was one of those creatures dangling from the ceiling or off to the side, its voracity embodied in those jaws and talons—

  “Watch your step, man,” Palmer sighed, moving up past the women, who quickly followed in suit. His Seighty’s flashlight washed over a jagged hole in the floor within four feet of Connell’s boots.

  “Shit, Palmer. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Likewise,” Felina exhaled.

  Loudon smirked and shrugged.

  “Thanks, though,” Connell added. “That would’ve been a nasty fall.”

  “Tragic for sure,” Palmer said. “And look at those edges…seems like it already was, for someone.”

  Connell knelt to examine. “Or something.”

  “Sir?” Palmer said cockeyed.

  “The color’s off. This is the blood of those creatures.” Connell shook his head and peered closer, his weapon’s flashlight illuminating the hole’s depth as if sunshine on a white sand beach. Through the jagged hole in the grating descended a four-foot drop into what appeared to be a crawlspace. The floor of it looked stable and smooth, save for small troughs drug across its surface—claw marks. It seemed that the sides of said crawlspace were the ones of concern—what had been thin aluminum walls protecting from the underlying fixtures had since been crushed. Pushed aside, it appeared, by a stronger force than its own resilience, and left to flower with sharp edges. Connell sighed and stood up to face his three cohorts. “So, who first?”

  Felina’s expression was a distortion of shock and skepticism. Her dubiousness was replicated by Loudon and even Palmer.

  “Uh, sir…are you—”

  “You can’t be serious.” Felina sounded adamant.

  Palmer cleared his throat. “Best we try the door first.”

  Connell blocked his path. “For what reason? Look at it—the thing’s a brick wall…figuratively speaking.”

  “And literally?”

  “Solid steel,” Connell said without hesitation. “Add onto the fact that, if you input the wrong code—and you will, because you don’t have Keyes’ fingerprints—it sets off an alarm by default. Quick and fleeting, but concise and shrill. Now, I know Sabartinelli said they’re deaf…but a sound that loud would cause vibration and I’m willing to bet creatures like these could sense that. No thanks; I’d rather not take such a chance.”

  “Okay, boss, I feel ya.” Palmer swallowed. “But this? I mean, are you even sure we can fit?”

  “Think about what you just asked,” Connell glared. The pause that followed lasted longer than Connell would’ve liked and he ultimately sighed. “If one of those things could get through, I’m sure we can. Besides, the crawlspace wasn’t unisexually constructed. Now c’mon, unless you wanna wait for one to spring up outta there and cut our legs from under us.”

  “Oh, you’re so fucking persuasive,” Palmer said snidely. He carefully entered the hole in the floor, watching the sharp edges where the metal grating had been torn away. Thi
s alone made him fear the creatures more; their strength must be uncanny against matters of the flesh. Fangs and claws were one thing entirely, but the sheer force to bend such metal—

  “I’ll go next,” Loudon’s voluntary voice actually alleviated Palmer’s concern. Finally he was down inside, thankful at the very least for his weapon’s flashlight, which scattered the shadows lurking in the crawlspace before him. His path illuminated, he proceeded, voicing softly but audibly that all was clear down there. This, plus the fact that an armed soldier led the way, helped comfort Loudon too. She gave Felina a quick nod before entering, cautiously but not as slow as Palmer had been. Felina swallowed a lump of apprehension and then crossed Connell’s path to reassure him that she was fine to proceed next.

  However, Connell had other plans.

  “Best I go first; just in case Palmer needs assistance on the other side, sooner rather than later.” Connell put his hand on her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, our six is C&S. Just stay close, and watch your trigger finger.”

  Felina nodded, a faint smile gracing her solemn features.

  Humanity survived.

  One by one they followed the others into the gaping crawlspace. It was obvious once they were in its bowels that the architects of the Manticore had kept in mind its occupants in more than one way. The crawlspace was rather roomy, even considering how it belonged to a sub-corridor; headroom allowed for a hunched waddle. Nobody actually crawled on their hands and knees, unless the person was over seven feet tall; in a Xeno’s case, this meant shredding the walls during passage.

  Up ahead, Palmer slowed significantly; even around Loudon and Connell, Felina could see his flashlight lower. Then she saw what she assumed he did as well—a shaft of dim light filtering into the crawlspace at its supposed end.

  “I got an opening ahead, Connell,” Palmer announced. “Looks like the one we came through, so watch your edges. Proceeding now.”

  “Careful, Palmer,” Connell said. “Like honey.”

  “Yeah, yeah, smooth and sweet.” Palmer sighed and continued, more fear obvious in his progress.

  Felina tried not to hold her breath and keep her lungs trained to normalcy, but the circumstances toyed with her every sense. Finally Palmer came upon the opening and crawled through. Up and out he emerged, then Felina heard an echoing rip as his uniform snagged on a piece of jagged metal. Palmer cursed under his breath and then she glimpsed his feet vanish through the hole above.

  “Clear!” Palmer said aloud, his voice not as hushed as Connell would’ve liked, but it wasn’t a shout.

  “And secure?” Connell asked.

  “Negative.”

  Felina wondered what this meant; evidently it didn’t indicate there was hostility or else she would be hearing gunshots or cursing, if not both from Palmer. Instead mere silence.

  “Almost there, stay put,” Connell said with a grunt. He asked how Loudon was doing.

  “Just peachy,” she sighed, her voice hoarse.

  “Take your time,” Connell said.

  “Fuck that, I wanna get outta here.”

  Connell chuckled under his breath and Felina smirked. As Loudon reached the hole above them, the dim light washed over her and she stood to engage in a brief struggle. Nonetheless she ascended through nimbler than Palmer had, and unscathed.

  Felina heard Palmer mutter to her incoherently and she replied with simple gratitude.

  “Up next,” Connell announced, and proceeded just as cumbersomely as Palmer had, if not more. He was a bit taller and to Felina’s surprise less confident in the moment than Palmer. When she asked quietly if he was alright, he seemed to struggle just breathing, but it was temporary. What he said next came out with a spurt of uneasy laughter. “Only a tiny bit claustrophobic.”

  Felina grinned and shook her head.

  Loudon helped him up, her silhouette vague to Felina’s eyes back down in the crawlspace. She could’ve sworn she heard skittering behind her, like claws on metal, a frantic scuttling as if the Xeno could make babies half their size and they were now pursuing Felina. They would start by munching on her feet, then her calves, then—

  “C’mon, Sabartinelli,” Connell’s voice snapped her back to reality. Unfortunately it wasn’t too far from where she had been; there was still a tickling paranoia in her skull that refused to leave. Her nape hairs bristled even as Connell’s hand extended in front of her eyes to lend assistance. She latched on and took a deep breath, pulling herself topside. The fear rolled off her shoulders and she wore it like a cape, cascading behind her; still present of course, but not a priority.

  Having cleared the crawlspace, she stood next to Connell behind Palmer and Loudon. They both kept their eyes peeled, weapons aiming frantically. And just like that, the fear returned to Felina in a wave of reversal.

  She recognized the MALBO lobby, its white motif impeccable…but not anymore. Now it was tarnished with splashes of blood, from thin to wide arcs and small blotches to tidal splatters. Severed limbs, decapitated heads, and eviscerated entrails were an occasional find. The reek in the air was so thick Felina could feel its fingertips manifest on her skin, provoking horripilation even more. The taste of the stench involuntarily matted her lips, not unlike sweat adhering loose strands of her hair to her temples.

  “Is this what he meant when he said ‘clear but not secure’?” Felina whispered behind Connell.

  “Yes and no. Technically, ‘clear’ means nothing in sight…survivors or hostiles. ‘Secure’ designates an area as safe; this, obviously, is not…and it’s also too vast to be secured by one man.”

  Connell had spoken fast and softly, but coherently enough for Felina. She nodded mutely which he glimpsed out of his periphery then proceeded to stand beside Palmer.

  “Now what, man? ‘Cause this is CFC.”

  “I’m not the mayor, Palmer, but I’d have to agree.” Connell swallowed and quickly tried to gather a plan. Then Felina’s voice startled him but fortunately he didn’t express it as joltingly as his heart did.

  “What the hell’s CFC?” she asked.

  “And why can’t you people resist from the damn acronyms?” Loudon sighed.

  “Clusterfuck City,” Connell said blandly.

  “Population us,” Palmer chimed, scowling.

  “Well, that much is apparent,” Felina sighed. “So now what? We just gonna stand here ‘til we throw up our guts with theirs, or are we gonna look for Asher so we can bail this hellhole?”

  “Uh, what she said,” Palmer stammered.

  “Lead the way, Palmer,” Connell said snidely.

  “That’s your job, sir.”

  With a sigh, Connell shook his head and shouldered his weapon. He asked the two women if they recalled the route to Asher’s office. When they said they hadn’t a clue, they were never shown more than where the Xeno specimens were contained, Connell cursed under his breath. Meanwhile Palmer spat to the side and looked utterly repulsed. He repressed a few gags then attempted to regulate his breathing while gazing at the ceiling, head tilted back. Connell sighed for the nth time before his features suddenly lit up.

  “What is it?” Felina asked.

  “The specimens…the creatures, I mean. Where they were held. In, like, a special chamber?”

  “Yeah,” Felina said monotonously. “Behind silica-palladium panels. There were, um…four observation chambers for the specimens, three in each.”

  She didn’t care to mention the Testing Installation or even Intermediate Facilities. The notion of the latter’s inhabitants exacerbated her nausea.

  “Guide us there, then,” Connell said adamantly, appearing oddly invigorated. “I’ve got the lead. You two, behind me. Palmer, cover our rear.”

  “Wait, why there?” Loudon said. “Wouldn’t the creatures be most active there?”

  “Active?” Connell said skeptically. “Look around you; I think their activity has no region or preference. Besides, they’ve been held there for months…I think it’s saf
e to say they’d rather be elsewhere.”

  Felina, and soon Loudon, realized he had a good point.

  “Furthermore,” Connell nodded, “rooms like that tend to be vaults from the inside. It’s possible he locked himself in one, supposing he wasn’t in it when the creatures escaped. Although, silica-palladium…I can’t imagine anything organic getting through that stuff.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Felina said, and with Loudon’s help guided them along. As per their memory, which served well enough, the route was easy. Had it been any more complicated, given their current situation, they would have likely gotten lost. Felina felt like she could know this place by heart and yet in lieu of the drastic change involving so much carnage, she would become amnesiac. She had to shove fear to the far reaches of her subconscious while trying to focus on the significances of the moment.

  Find Asher. Survive.

  Survive and find Asher. Make it back alive.

  But, make it back where? The security center, or the bridge? And where from there?

  Felina’s mind bustled with questions and possibilities, shrouded by their myriad bad outcomes.

  While she experienced this psychological struggle of concentration, Loudon helped fill in the gaps as to their direction. Within two minutes, although it had felt much like hours in this place, they arrived at a ramp that led them down to three separate auto-doors, each with signage. The motif here was consistent—white, pristine, originally unblemished.

  Originally.

  Nonetheless, it was here that less bloodshed seemed to have taken place. The auto-door furthest to their left, beneath a sign denoting it as the Observation Compound entrance, was broken. Stuck open, it appeared, due to a former force that had jammed it at an angle. Sparks spurt from the steel lintel, and a soft but unmistakable whirring sound could be heard within the wall.

  “It’d figure,” Felina sighed, “that’s where we gotta go.”

  “No shit?” Connell said rhetorically. He cleared his throat and called for Palmer to “stack up.”

  “I got your right.” Palmer followed Connell, who took the left side of the partially open doorway, his shoulder to the jamb and hands raising Seighty.