by Brett P. S.
A scorching descent through the atmosphere and a swift slam into hard ice would have added salt to the wound. Ned nodded quietly to himself as he made his way across the lengthy corridor between the former chamber and what looked like the entrance to another. The ship, thousands of meters across, could hold untold alien specimens, but whether or not they were still alive depended on a number of variables he couldn’t possibly calculate.
“It’s over here, I think,” Ned called, waving down Mark to help budge another half-opened door.
“I’m coming,” Mark said. “You’re pushing the limits of my patience.”
Ned smiled. “I’m more than glad you’re giving me a chance.”
“Don’t confuse my lenience for agreement,” Mark said. “I’m just debating my options. If I decide this ship is better off incinerated, it will be a surgical maneuver, and it will end quickly.”
“Fair point,” Ned said. “I shouldn’t forget who’s in charge.”
“I don’t appreciate sarcasm, Ryder.”
Mark heaved with a heavy grunt, and they budged the door open together. Metal grinded across slabs of metal below the waters, but Ned could still hear it as clearly above his head as by his feet. The difference was that the sound below was muddied, deeper, and less screechy.
He pushed through, and his eyes lit up. The chamber around him, though the floor appeared submerged under water, was a photographic replica of their earlier location. Glass pods carried monsters and animals frozen in time, their faces obscured in frost and condensation, but he could see some of them.
“I’ll be damned, Ryder,” Mark said as he strode past. “You might be right about this. So it’s some kind of space ark?”
“Probably,” Ned replied. “One thing bothers me about it though.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
Ned stepped toward one of the glass pods, the outer transparent material shattered. He reached in and scraped his fingers across the interior, wiping up some oozy sediment from the inside. He pulled out his fingers, raised the goo-covered tips to his nose, and sniffed. Ned drew back from the odor, a repulsive stench that was in no way alien. He knew that smell.
“Decomposition,” he said, flicking the bulk from his fingertips and wiping the rest on his coat. “I’m deep in speculator territory at this point, but I suspect life support aboard the ship had gone out for some time.” He turned, walking back to Mark. “We can’t know for sure until your men take some samples, but I’d go on a limb and guess that every alien aboard this ship is already dead.”
“Every alien except one,” Mark replied, with a sneer.
Ned rolled his eyes and gestured his disapproval with a wave of his hand. He figured he could get away with some dissent at this point, but Mark’s expression turned grim and he wasn’t laughing. Can’t he take a joke? Mark unholstered his sidearm and leveled it at Ned’s face.
“Don’t move,” Mark said, calmly aiming his pistol slightly to the side. “It’s right behind you.”
“Wait,” Ned exclaimed. “This is crazy. You don’t need to kill it. We have a duty to keep it alive.”
Mark shook his head. “Not my duty. My job is and always was to keep potential threats to the human ecosystem from exiting this ship.”
“This is first contact!” Ned shouted.
“Alien house cats don’t count.”
“Damned if it doesn’t. Besides, there’s only one. It’s going to die alone whether or not you shoot it.”’
“You don’t know that, Ryder,” Mark said. “Nothing in the space rulebook says it needs a mate to reproduce, and I’m not about to chance it. Step aside, son. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”
Ned didn’t budge. He put his hands up, but that was the end of it. He stared down the agent and the barrel of his loaded gun with a conviction he hadn’t shown for anyone or anything. Mark didn’t have the faintest idea about the societal implications of what he was about to do. All he knew was containing a problem.
“I will shoot you if you get in my way,” Mark said.
“You’re going to have to.”
Mark growled and rushed forward, shoving him aside. Ned hit the waters as the sounds of three separate gunshots rang in the air around him. He caught himself in the waters, his hands numb from the sting of the frozen ice. He pushed himself up and whirled around to catch Mark blasting off rounds until the creature had fled into a corner. Ned didn’t exactly have time to think about the ramifications of his own actions either. Accordingly, he failed to hesitate, grabbing his own pistol and leveling it at the man before shouting.
“Stop!”
It wasn’t the sound of his voice that caused Mark to freeze in place, nor was it the newly professed authority in his voice. No, it was the quiet cock of his gun. Mark didn’t bother to turn around, and he kept his pistol leveled at the critter, who had since squirmed into a corner, its body convulsing from an inherent fear of death. From the mannerisms, it showed a modicum of intelligence at least.
“Ryder,” Mark said after a pause. “I didn’t expect you to go this far. Is this monster worth more than life in prison?”
Ned didn’t skip a beat. “It’s worth more lives than I have to give.”
Mark lowered his gun and calmed down for a moment. Ned had pegged the man for a number of faults, but suicidal hadn’t been one of them. Mark shrugged, keeping his eyes on the shivering alien. A brief moment of silence passed between them before their watches beeped with a gentle alarm. A radio broadcast hailed Mark through the communicator nestled on his jacket pocket.
“Come in, base camp,” Mark said.
“Agent Simmons,” a deep voice crackled through the static. “How goes the expedition?”
Mark glanced back at Ned and shrugged. “Nothing but death so far. All occupants appear deceased. Specialist Ryder and I are finished with our initial sweep. You can send in the second wave to collect samples once we exit the craft.”
“Understood, Simmons,” the voice replied. “Be safe.”
After a few seconds, the static ceased, Mark holstered his gun, and he frowned.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mark said. “Look at the thing. It’s pathetic. Good chance the water is going to kill it.”
Ned drew back and holstered his sidearm. “That’s a better chance than it had.”