by Ben Hammott
They moved past the bloody rat corpses and continued along the duct until Miller halted the men again. When Sawyer peered past the lieutenant and glimpsed the end of the passage, he turned, crouched and aimed his weapon and light back along the duct.
After Miller had signaled for the two men to wait, he cautiously approached the opening and poked his head out. What seemed like hundreds of Space Rats stared up at the opening from the room below. He signaled for the others to join him and removed his earplugs. He waited for the two men to remove theirs before speaking softly, “The rats are waiting below. Pass me a canister and put your masks on.”
Patterson dished out the masks and handed Miller a gas canister. “How long will it take for the gas to work?”
“I asked the specialists the very same question,” Miller replied in a low voice. “I was told with normal subjects in a confined environment, about ten to twenty seconds, but as we are dealing with alien physiology in a large area, they couldn’t give me an answer.”
Patterson frowned. “So it might not work?”
Miller shrugged. “They breathe oxygen just like us, so there’s no reason it shouldn’t.”
After they had slipped on gasmasks, Miller twisted the knob hard on top of the canister to activate the ten-second delay. An impatient rat poked its head into the opening. A single shot from Sawyer’s gun sent it flying back into the room. The men, temporarily deafened by the noise, didn't hear the shrieks that erupted when the corpse fell into the mass of teeth and claws below and was quickly devoured by the lucky few. Miller, his ears still ringing, threw the canister into the vermin throng. A stream of gas fog leaked out when it struck the floor.
Believing food was in the offing, the nearest rats pounced on the can but discarded it when their teeth scraped on its hard, inedible surface. The canister was jostled around the room as it was continually fought over. Fog spewed out and began filling the room. It wasn't long before the gas started taking effect and rats collapsed to the floor never to rise again.
Miller glanced at his watch and then at Patterson. “Forty seconds,” his voice muffled and distorted by the mask.
When all movement in the room had ceased, Miller dropped into the gas-shrouded room and Sawyer and Patterson followed him down. There were so many rat corpses it was impossible to avoid treading on them. It was like walking on macabre carpet woven from dead rats. The men stumbled and slid off the bodies more than once as they moved for the exit. Their lights were of little use in the deadly haze that swirled around them; it was like driving through thick fog with lights on full beam. It was instinct that led Miller across to the far side and up the ramp that led to an opening. Though less dense at the top, the deadly gas fog seeped through the doorway and into nearby rooms as it sought out more victims to infect with its lethal breath. The corridor led left to a closed door and right to another opening. Miller led the men to the right, in the direction of the cargo bay.
Wispy trails of gas disturbed by their passing crept ahead of them until it finally dissipated when they reached a high balcony. The three men gazed down at the room below where four bridges led off from a central platform. The turquoise glow emitted by the large liquid-filled tubes revealed the two tall aliens suspended inside and glass shards littering the floor where one of the containers had been smashed. Below the platform and bridges, a ground-hugging mist swirled spookily around the lower level. The three men directed their lights around the lower room but saw no insects or anything else on the prowl.
Lieutenant Miller pointed at the lower, mist-covered level. “That’s where the insects live and the door that leads to the cargo bay. I’ll toss two canisters down to ensure all are killed in the immediate area before we climb down and head for the cargo bay.”
Patterson handed Miller two canisters and while he and Sawyer kept a look out for any surviving Space Rats that might attack, Miller activated the canisters and lobbed them into different areas of the bottom level. The canisters clattered on the floor and rolled noisily. Alerted by the sound, insects converged on the canisters. Their tiny feet clicking on the floor revealed their positions in the fog that shrouded them from view. The lighter death gas seeped through the thicker ground mist, filled the lower level and seeped into the one above.
When five minutes had passed, Miller secured the rope Patterson passed him to the banister and climbed over. He was astonished by the impossibly tall aliens he gazed at when he slid down to the lower level. His light and weapon searched the room below when his feet touched the floor. When he was satisfied, as far as he could judge, the area was clear of danger, he indicated for the two men on the balcony to come down.
Their feet crunched on the insect carcasses littering the floor when they headed for the cargo bay. Their lights and ears continually scanned the fog-cloaked room for signs of insect activity. They reached the cargo bay door and peered into the large chamber. Though a few dead insects were seen around the entrance, when they moved past the first row of crate stacks they saw thousands were still alive. Some crawled over the storage pods and floor, but most were converged around the air lock at the far end of the room where they saw the chance of a meal.
Miller took the last two gas canisters from the bag while Sawyer and Patterson kept watch. He threw one amongst the crates and rolled the other along the floor towards the airlock. Gas spewed out as it rolled and spread throughout the room. The insects turned towards the sound and the nearest converged on the canisters. The alarm was raised when the men were spotted and an army of insects scurried towards them. Sawyer shot three egg-laden females preparing to fire their deadly payload. Patterson dispatched two more with a short burst of bullets at each.
Miller glanced at his watch.
“What shall we do, Lieutenant?” asked Patterson nervously, his weapon sweeping the front edge of the seeping gas that hid the insects. It wasn't so much the dying that scared him, though he would rather not, it was the agonizing death the insects dispatched to their victims that had him so worried.
“Hold your ground,” ordered Miller, glancing at his watch. “Another twenty seconds and we’re safe.”
Patterson forced himself not to retreat a few steps. “What if they reach us in fifteen?”
Sawyer smiled at the worried soldier. “Stamp on them.”
“Ten seconds,” announced Miller. He glanced at the approaching swarm when they emerged from the gas cloud only fifteen yards away. They had crawled through the gas so they had to be affected. He turned his focus back upon his watch and counted down. “Five. Four. Three. Two…”
The insects continued towards them.
“Lieutenant!” said Patterson, his voice higher than he would have wished. “They’re not stopping.”
“Back up. It can’t be much longer now.”
Patterson voiced his worries aloud as he backed away from the insect hoard now only six feet away. “What if it’s a dud canister and the gas ain't no good?”
Sawyer squashed the one that spurted forward with a stamp of his boot.
The lieutenant was about to order the retreat when some of the insects stopped. “It’s working.”
“About bloody time,” Patterson sighed.
A wave of death swept over the hoard until they had all succumbed.
Miller scanned the top of the storage crates now hidden by the rising cloud of gas. He detected no movement. “Let’s do a sweep of the room to make sure they're all dead before opening the airlock. The gas becomes harmless after exposure to the air for fifteen minutes, so we can’t open it until then.”
Lieutenant Miller led the two men through the gaps between the storage containers.
An Uneasy Alliance
AS LUCY SLOWLY regained her senses, she became conscious of the throbbing pain in her head and groaned. The second sensation she experienced was something prodding her. Fearing a monster was trying to eat her, her eyes sprung open and she lashed out an arm. The pink creature dodged back and whimpered while it rubbed its arm where it had
been struck. When Lucy sat and pressed herself against the wall, she noticed movement in the air. The winged demons circled and watched her, waiting for an opportunity to attack. She glanced around for the club. It was over an arm's length away. With her eyes fixed on the pink creature in case it attacked, she reached for the inadequate weapon.
The creature's eyes followed her groping hand. It picked up the club in one of its elongated hands equipped with three fingers and a thumb tipped with small claws and handed it to Lucy.
Confused by the creature's action, Lucy stared at its expectant smiling face. The blood-tinged smile and its large upward slanted eyes dotted with small red pupils were unnerving. It was like the smile of a murderer about to claim its next victim.
While she pondered her next move, Lucy studied the creature. It had four limbs― two arms and legs attached to powerful hips that jointed at the knee and ankle. Its feet were elongated even more than its hands, and its toes were three small hooves. Even with all its obvious alien differences, including the yard-long tail that swayed snake-like behind it, the creature had a surprising human appearance. This was probably due in part to the smooth, hairless, pink skin that covered its body. Though there was no sign of sexual organs, Lucy had the impression the creature was female and meant her no harm, as it could have easily killed her when she was unconscious.
“Thank you,” Lucy said, softly.
The creature tilted its head to one side, brushed back the hair that fell across its face in a surprisingly human motion, and stared at her. It backed away a few cautious steps when Lucy slowly climbed to her feet. She wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious, but she felt a little refreshed and some of her strength had returned. Now, if only she could find something to eat and drink.
Lucy glanced at the gruesome Demon Bat corpses a short distance away and guessed her new friend was responsible and the reason the circling creatures didn't attack. Shredded flesh on one of the corpses indicated Pinky had been snacking while she was out. She turned and faced the door she wanted to enter. A barge with her shoulder failed to move it. Whatever held it closed would require more than her strength to open it.
The creature tugged her arm and beckoned for Lucy to follow. Though reluctant to do so, the creature hadn't shown any sign it meant to harm her thus far so Lucy followed it over to the ledge. The creature moved on all of its four limbs. Hard lumps on its knuckles protected its skin from tearing on the rough rock. It climbed down the vines headfirst, using its tail to grip the vines for extra support. Lucy climbed down in the conventional human manner and followed the creature that kept glancing back to make sure she was coming. Lucy looked across the rocky landscape at the strange building she was being led towards and wondered what the creature's intention was. It seemed to be intelligent; it had known she wanted the club and fetched it for her. It had also saved her from the Demon Bats. She glanced up. The flying creatures followed their progress, but made no attempt to attack; they obviously feared the pink creature, which, in a way, worried Lucy. If it had dispatched five of them so easily, a human armed with a simple wooden club would pose it no problem. She again sought some solace from the fact that the creature hadn't harmed her when she had been unconscious.
The creature headed for an opening in the side of the building and passed through the shower of sparks inside. Lucy followed. The sparks came from a battered control panel. Her gaze swept the interior. It wasn't a building but a giant machine. She crossed to where a series of mechanical metal arms were pressed against the side of the cliff. Hoses and jets were frozen in place from when the machine stopped working. Jets of molten rock, metal or some substance manufactured to mimic the two that had once sprayed out in liquid form from some of the many hoses, had solidified like frozen fountains. The machine was actually building the landscape like some sort of terra-forming machine, perhaps building an ecosystem for some of the creatures the ark spaceship carried.
The creature tugged at her arm again, impatient for her to continue their journey to God-knows-where. Lucy was led past a pool of water lit from below by turquoise light. Stubby, gnarled trees had forced their way through the floor of the machine and stood like strange statues arranged in a museum for public viewing. A large rip in the wall on the far side of the machine revealed a wide tunnel whose floor was covered with bizarre, mushroom-like growths. The tallest was a foot high. Stubby red stalks supported a pointed domed top formed from intertwined tendrils that emitted a soft blue glow and lit up the dark tunnel. The floor was carpeted with a bright orange growth that had a mossy texture. The scene had a magical, fantasyland feeling.
The creature paused at the tunnel entrance and waved Lucy forward with an impatient arm and a creepy beckoning smile. Lucy glanced around the machine; there might be something here she could use as a weapon. If she encountered anymore of the ship's vicious inhabitants, the club wouldn't save her for long. If it weren't for Pinky coming to her rescue the Demon Bats would have feasted on her corpse. Her roaming eyes stopped on a sharp metal shard lying on the ground. She picked it up. It was light, but strong, ideal for her purpose, but the edges were too sharp to grip with her bare hands. She wandered around the room, searching for anything else she could use to fashion a weapon. In one corner she found something that might be useful; a grisly pile of teeth-scarred bones, some of which she thought might be from the Demon Bats. She glanced back at the pink creature, who stared at her. Though the scary smile remained, its expression was one of puzzlement―no doubt wondering what Lucy was doing.
Lucy returned her attention to the bone pile and picked out one of the longest. A glance around revealed the next item she needed, a cluster of thin wires hanging from a rip in the machine wall. She grabbed one strand, pulled it tight and used the metal shard to cut off a long length. Five minutes later, the sharp scrap of metal was secured to the end of the bone. Lucy held up the ad-hoc spear and admired her handiwork. She jabbed it in the air around her, as if fighting an invisible monster, and started when Pinky squealed in what seemed delight at the spear. She relaxed a little and smiled at the creature that understood she had made a weapon.
When Lucy approached the creature, Pinky entered the undergrowth and again turned its head after a few steps to make sure she followed. Though Lucy couldn't shake the feeling she should turn around and seek an alternative route on her own, she entered the mushroom tunnel. When she passed the strange fungi, their tendril tops unfurled and waved in the air, emitting a pleasant, flowery aroma. Lucy was just thinking what a pretty performance it was when hooked barbs sprouted from the tendrils of the nearest one and sprung at her.
Pinky grabbed Lucy's arm and yanked her away from the tendrils grasp before they made contact. It pointed at the vicious mushrooms and shook its head.
Lucy nodded she understood. She wouldn't venture too close to the aggressive plants again. Not for the first time, she wondered how anything had managed to survive on the planet the spaceship and crew originated from with so many things intent on killing and eating its inhabitants, and why they had bothered transporting them to a new world. Taking a wide berth past the hostile fungi, Lucy followed Pinky through the tunnel that didn't seem so magical anymore.
The Offer
JACK GLANCED ADMIRINGLY at Jane's form stretched out on the sunlounger, roamed his appreciative eyes the length of her bikini-clad body and let out a satisfied sigh. This truly was paradise. “Good book?” he asked.
Jane glanced up from the novel, El Dorado by Ben Hammott. She had purchased it from a local store and had soon become engrossed in the story set in the Amazon jungle about a search for 'a fabled lost city and a legendary treasure greater than any yet discovered' as the back cover blurb described it. “Yeah, it's exciting. You should read it when I'm finished.”
Something distracted Jack. He raised his sunglasses and examined the man dressed in a dark suit gazing around at people on the beach. He sensed an aura of bad news about the man. “He's a bit overdressed for the beach.”
J
ane followed the direction of Jack's gaze as the man turned towards them. A look of recognition appeared on his thin face and he headed over. “He seems to be looking for us. I wonder what he wants.”
“Nothing good I should think,” said Jack.
“Hello, Miss Harper.” The suited man stopped at the foot of Jane's sunlounger.
Though his eyes were concealed behind dark glasses, Jane felt them wander over her near-naked body. “Yes. And you are?” She grabbed a thin shawl from the back of the lounger and wrapped it around her.
“Simon Hawthorne. I've been requested to contact you by certain interested parties from the American government. The clerk from your hotel said you were on the beach.”
Jack frowned. He had no doubts that 'certain interested parties' included the CIA. “What does the American government want with us? We've already been debriefed.”
The man glanced at Jack briefly. “Actually, I've come to see Miss Harper.” He looked back at Jane. “They need the services of a glaciologist and I've been informed you are one of the best, but that's not the only reason I have been tasked with seeking you out. It is also because you have first-hand knowledge of the ice in question.”
It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out what ice the man alluded to. “The iceberg the spaceship's trapped in,” assumed Jane.
Hawthorne nodded. “As you are fully aware, it's now adrift and a salvaging operation is underway to save what they can from the spaceship. However, you won't be involved with that. What we need you to do, as far as it is feasible to do so, is to determine how long they have before the iceberg deteriorates and the alien vessel is lost.”
Jack humphed. “If you think we're going back there again, you are very much mistaken, Mr. Hawthorne.”