by Randy Noble
“You’re killing me,” George said. “Only one ship for the whole team?”
Brad nodded. “I’m sorry, but that’s the situation, as shitty as it is. Your control devices have more information about Pyramid One. Lancer is close to going through a gate so you have to leave right now. Keep in contact.”
Brad leaned towards his device. “Screens down and control off.” The screens moved down, back into the table, turning to clear glass as the images disappeared. “Talk to you soon.”
Brad got up, looked like he was about to say something else, and then just nodded at the group, a forced smile on his face.
After he left, Mary and Michael looked at each other and shook their heads. George noticed.
“We’re going whether we like it or not, but damned if I won’t be prepared, even if it’s most likely just software glitches. Michael. Mary. I want you and everyone else to read everything about this ship. I want you all to know it inside and out before we get there . . . docking bay, engineering, control, communications. Everything.”
Chapter 17
Another floorboard creaked, just outside the door of the cottage Regina hid in, and she could have sworn she heard a man’s voice say “Shh-it!”
Regina smiled.
She heard the iron latch on the door slowly open with a slight click.
She moved her index finger over the trigger.
The latch released.
She took a breath.
The door slowly started to open.
Regina held the breath.
Two silhouetted figures entered the cottage. They closed the door and dropped themselves into near dark, except the light coming from the porch and what light remained from the sky above coming in through the windows in the dining area.
There wasn’t enough light to see their faces, but Regina knew the figures to be a man and a woman. She felt no threat from them, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. “Hands in the air and walk towards my voice until I tell you to stop.”
The man jumped back when Regina spoke, but the woman did not budge.
Regina continued. “I have a forty-five, with a shock blast of ninety-nine percent, pointed at you, meaning if I even nick a finger there’s a ninety-nine percent chance you will never get up again just from the voltage alone.”
“We’re unarmed,” came the woman’s voice, as both the man and woman lifted their arms above their heads and walked towards Regina.
“Stop right there,” Regina said as she stood up. The man and woman stopped just inside the living room. Regina hopped over the couch, never losing sight of the pair.
“Let us explain why we followed you,” the woman said before Regina had a chance to ask.
Regina pointed her gun away from them, over to the couch, and both of them moved and sat down on the couch as Regina backed up by the fireplace.
“My name is Rachel Winslow, and --“
Rachel nodded towards her partner.
“-- this is Blair Campbell.” Rachel looked directly into Regina’s eyes as she spoke, never wavering from her gaze.
Blair looked around the room, his right leg bopping up and down.
Rachel continued to stare at Regina. “We’re passengers on this thing, and we were hiding on this level after coming out of our rooms and finding clothing lying everywhere, but no people anywhere, until we saw you.”
Regina looked them both up and down as Rachel spoke. Rachel was older than Blair, maybe in her thirties, with long curly, black hair, blue eyes, short and fit. Blair was a tall, heavy-set man, with dark, slicked back hair to his shoulders, brown eyes, and an engineering ring on his right hand. Regina missed no detail. It felt like she was profiling these people, like she was on the job.
Blair smiled as he noticed Regina looking him over. Regina did not return the smile. She was too busy staring at his large off-kilter nose. It was wide and long, and looked like it had been broken, but not recently.
“So you’ve been hiding up here since this all began,” Regina said.
“No,” Blair said as Rachel gave him a piercing stare that he ignored. “We tried the docking bay first, but the entry doors were sealed and we couldn’t get in. We then took the stairs all the way up here.”
Blair’s leg continued moving quickly up and down.
“Have you seen anything else unusual, other than the clothing piles?” Regina asked.
“Yes, an orange light,” Rachel said, “in the distance on our room level. We got an uneasy vibe from it, and that’s when we tried to get to the docking bay.”
Regina watched their eyes as they spoke and she couldn’t tell if they were lying or not. They seemed genuine. One thing that stuck in her mind and wouldn’t let go was the engineering ring Blair wore.
There were engineers all over the place, but none Regina could remember that wore rings like Blair’s platinum one. Only a particular kind of engineer wore a ring like that, but she couldn’t remember what kind at the moment.
Regina relaxed a bit and let her arm drop, the gun now pointed at the floor. Blair’s leg stopped moving.
“Do you have any idea what is going on?” Rachel said.
“None at all. I was hoping you two would.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I’ve been inside the orange light when it flashed,” Regina said, “and it felt very threatening to me. And some sort of brown, gooey blob came out of nowhere at me. It missed, but it almost seemed like it tried to follow me, as if it were alive.”
Rachel and Blair looked at each other. Blair started shaking his leg up and down again.
“That’s weird,” Blair said and Rachel nodded.
“Well, let’s go,” Regina said.
“Go where?” Blair said.
“Control Room.”
Blair furrowed his brow. “What for? We’ve stayed alive for hours on this level.”
“And what did that get you? Alive, yes, but nowhere near off this floating ghost ship. We don’t even know what direction we’re headed, or who might be in control of this ship.”
Regina started to move towards the back side of the couch. Rachel stood up.
“Where are you going?” Blair asked Rachel.
“She’s right. We need to start thinking about how to get out of here alive, and I’m tired of being a pussy.”
Blair rolled his eyes. “We stay low, hide out, and wait for a rescue. We don’t even know if anyone has been killed.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows at Blair. Regina saw contempt in those eyes.
“No,” Regina said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. For all we know, a rescue team already came on board and was wiped out. We move. Now.”
Regina pointed her gun at Blair’s head.
“What, are you gonna shoot me for wanting to live?”
“No, I’m going to shoot you because I don’t trust you, and I’d rather you were dead than come sneaking up behind me.”
Blair exhaled heavily. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re worse than what’s out there waiting for us.”
“Come on Blair,” Rachel said. “I’m going, and you aren’t going to leave your honey now, are you?”
Regina almost laughed out loud, but held her tongue.
“Wha -- no, no I’m not. Fine. Let’s just get it over with. Statistically, you know, men are better logical thinkers, but if you want to chance --”
Rachel rolled her eyes.
Regina cocked her head slightly. “And I suppose this information was gathered by men?”
“Never mind. Just something I read.”
“Well,” Regina said, “not such a bright thing to say among two women. I’m guessing your nose was broken quite a few years ago. Is that so?”
Blair started getting shifty. “Yeah. So?”
Regina locked eyes with Blair’s, or tried to, as he could not maintain contact. “Well, I’m guessing you could have easily had that fixed, but chose not to because you think it looks tough.”
Blair’
s gaze found the floor now, not even an attempt at eye contact anymore. “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a deviated nasal septum, and it’s inoperable.”
“Bullshit. I know a broken nose when I see one, and just so you know: it looks stupid. Get it fixed, Mr. Logical.”
Blair mumbled something under his breath, but Regina couldn’t make it out. She let it go.
Pointing her gun back at them again, Regina said, “You two lead the way.” She dropped her gun arm again, as they all started moving, Rachel and Blair six feet in front of Regina.
They made their way out of the cottage.
“Keep in the trees,” Regina said, “until we get to the front of the ship, and we’ll take a stairwell all the way down to the Control Room level.”
Blair and Rachel turned to the left as soon as they got down the cottage stairs and then into the trees, not saying a word.
Blair glanced back at Regina.
“And no looking back. Eyes forward at all times, and listen for any sound not us.”
Blair turned back without a word.
They walked in silence, an occasional branch snapping from Rachel or Blair, but otherwise no other sounds than a warm breeze softly caressing the tops of the trees.
Regina followed the couple at a safe distance, watching the ground and them at the same time. She knew they were lying, but couldn’t understand it, unless they were part of what was going on. She had to find out. From inside Regina’s trench coat, she brought out a pair of glasses and put them on.
Regina waited for the whispering she knew would come.
The sensitive microphone on Regina’s glasses picked up a whistling noise from Blair’s nose as he breathed and their amplified footsteps, but that was all, so far.
They continued on.
Blair nearly walked into the wall when they got to the end of the level. Not because he wasn’t paying attention, but because the holographic wall made it look like the forest continued on, matching light and shadows of the real forest.
“Jesus,” Blair said as he stopped himself just in time.
Rachel smiled.
“Oh, and I suppose you knew it was a wall,” Blair said.
“That I did,” Rachel said.
“They shouldn’t do that. I bet people have bashed into that thing before.”
“It’s padded,” Rachel said.
Blair reached out and touched it, and sure enough his hand sunk into it like a pillow. “I’ll be damned. Still, they should put a fence up or something.”
“That’s enough talking,” Regina said. “Everyone out of the trees, and we’ll take that --“
Regina pointed out of the trees to a plain-looking door.
“-- stairwell.”
Blair looked at Regina’s face. “Where’d those glasses come from? You weren’t wearing them before.”
“I found them on the ground and thought I would try them out, and wouldn’t you know it, I can see better than before. Get going.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
Rachel took the lead, followed by Blair, and then Regina.
In the stairwell, across from the door they just came through, there was another door with a sign reading: Pyramid Staff Only.
Blair tried the door and it was locked.
They all stared down the most massive staircase Regina had ever seen.
“Does this run --“ Blair started.
“Yep, I think it runs straight down to the lowest level on the ship,” Rachel said.
There were no flights of stairs, only one long flight from top to bottom, broken only by small platforms for each level.
“What if you fall?” Blair said.
“Eric --“ Rachel started, and then looked at Regina. “-- that’s a friend of ours who worked maintenance on the shuttles here -- told me he got cranked up on some uppers one night, after making a bet with a buddy of his that he could walk the whole staircase without falling.” Rachel laughed. “He didn’t even get down to the next level. He fell down and cracked his right knee, but not before a shield shot up and stopped him from falling any further.”
Blair smiled. “That’s awesome. He never told me that.”
Regina looked down and could see a thin opening at the end of each step, where the shield must come up. She guessed they would probably not be able to run down the stairs without triggering it.
“Let’s get going,” Regina said. “And no talking. Move quickly, but don’t run. If anything happens, duck down, unless you want your head shot off.”
Chapter 18
Cindy piloted the SPARS ship. Michael rode shotgun. Cindy steered the ship closely along the matchstick markers. She had no doubt they would run into Pyramid One, stalled along the markers. Michael never bitched to her about anything, but she knew he thought the same thing: why didn’t the nearest gate patrol go check it out? Cindy figured it came down to some political crap, someone going above an inferior to tout their power, scoffing at the notion of gate patrol checking it out. Leave it to better trained, and she had no problem saying it, well respected and higher profile military division. She had never been prouder, her involvement with the SPARS, even if politicians stuck their noses where they didn’t belong.
Michael studied his wrist device in silence, always the prepared one. She rubbed her shaved head, liking the feel of the stubble, thinking a shave would be in order soon to keep it down where she liked it.
Cindy put the ship on autopilot to the last known location of Pyramid One and looked at her wrist device, much like a small handheld tablet, crystal clear glass, a black strap keeping it on her wrist. At four inches by six inches wide, it suited all their purposes as a very handy device. She pressed her index finger on the screen and it came to life. Cindy brought up information on Pyramid One, but her mind wandered only seconds into looking at a detailed map of the shuttle bay level.
It happened for her over a year ago, out of high school for three years at that time, cheated on by her high school sweetheart, and full of piss and vinegar. All it took was one night out with her friends.
“C’mon Cinz, just one more,” her friend Amy kept saying as they hopped from one bar to another, all of them dressed to tease and no intention to please.
“Did you see that guy’s face?” Cindy said, Cinz to her friends. “I totally flashed him when I bent over and my skirt hiked up.”
Her friend Amy, short, but taller by a couple of inches than Cindy, said, “You’re such a dirty slut.” She couldn’t keep a straight face when she said it.
They all laughed.
Jenna, who towered over both Amy and Cindy, snorted while she laughed.
All of them were to the point of slurring words and no holds barred behavior, with many a tit flash whenever a guy hooted or hollered. Or a middle finger, if the guy acted like a pig. Cindy cringed when she thought back to her behavior, how juvenile it all was, but wasn’t that how every young person acted? All the ones she knew, anyway. Probably still to this day. She cut off all ties with them after the incident.
They covered six bars that night, getting guys to buy their drinks, flirting, and then buggering off after getting several offers of sexual adventures they were told they never experienced before, making them laugh.
And then it happened. Cindy went off to the bathroom, opened the door to a stall, a twenty-five year old punk waiting for her or some girl, probably any girl would have done. It was just her bad luck. That’s what she thought at the time, but now, in a way, she was glad it happened. He pulled her into the stall and closed the door, pushing her against it. He tore at her tank top, pulling it down over her breasts, braless. She tried to scream, but he held a cloth over her mouth with one hand as he moved a muscular arm around her waist, trying to hike her skirt up in a horny frenzy and then going up and rubbing her breasts, and then back down to her skirt. His breath raced in and out, heavy with booze and greasy food.
“Where are you, my bitch,” came Amy’s voice, just out
side the doorway to the bathroom.
He stopped, pushing the cloth harder against her mouth, her eyes watered.
With his other feely-grabby hand relaxed, she took the opportunity to elbow him hard in the face, and ripped the door open.
“Amy! That fucker just tried to rape me!” And that was that. Amy screamed bloody murder and friends came running, dragged the guy out of the stall and beat him near to death, which Cindy had no problem with. They left his body in an alley. Whether he lived or died, she had no idea, and couldn’t care less.
Cindy decided she would never be a victim again, signed up for the SPARS Academy the next day, shaved her long, brown hair off, and never wore a skirt again.
A total spontaneous decision, but she never regretted it.
She loved her job and respected Michael a great deal. Everyone always wondered how Michael got so high up in the ranks at such a young age, but she knew why. He never stopped working. She couldn’t remember, in the short time she had been a SPARS member, a time when he wasn’t working.
*****
The others sat in the holding area, a cramped space with eight seats, four on each side of the ship in single file.
Brett could see, out of the corner of his eye, Mary staring at the control device on her wrist, probably memorizing every conceivable detail about Pyramid. She sat in the front left seat, Brett to her right.
Brett feigned studying about Pyramid, staring at his wrist device, but his attention was focused on a story Travis was telling.
“So, tell me Brett,” Mary said, “how many levels are there on Pyramid?”
Brett was ready for this. “Twelve.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “Okay, that was an easy one. What is the top level of the ship?”
“The Observation Level.” He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed, trying to fight back images of beating her face to a pulp. He took a deep breath.
“Why don’t you tell me all the levels, starting with the bottom one.”