by Rob Dearsley
Ellis slumped down against the crumpled door, dark blood seeping from the gouges in his chest. He didn’t move, Hale couldn’t even see him breathing. Was he?
“Still here,” Ellis’s voice sounded strained and breathy. “Armour’s busted though. I can’t move my arm.”
The knot in Hale’s chest released at the sound of his voice.
Fyffe rushed over to crouch next to Ellis and started manipulating the armour on his shoulders. Something gave beneath her fingers and the exoskeleton arm clattered to the floor.
“Thanks.” Ellis rolled his shoulders and tested his arm. “What the hells was that?”
The memory of the voice echoed through Hale’s mind. Hell indeed.
Grayson shook his head and cast a wary look at the door.
Hale followed his gaze, not seeing the door, but the Terran officer. The naked fear and panic in his eyes as whatever it was consumed him. She’d only had a tiny taste of what it was like but that was enough. Just the memory set her skin to crawling.
She glanced around at the harangued troopers, their armour scarred and dented. None of this seemed quite worth it.
Grayson pushed himself up, wincing as he put weight on his left leg. A mass of breach foam covered his thigh. She hadn’t even noticed the leg wound.
“Time for us to get going, lads. Equipment check,” Grayson said.
The troopers pulled themselves up and started checking their kit.
They’d used all their throw drones. Both Hale and Grayson’s rifles were gone, and Hutch’s armour looked wrecked. Not good.
Fyffe passed Hale a pistol, it was almost too small for her to use, but it was something. She gave the young tech a smile.
Grayson picked up Ellis’s fallen rifle. “Let’s move out.”
They fell into formation, Grayson leading and Fyffe bringing up the rear. With Arland and Ellis protected between them, they started back through the Terran Hall of Heroes.
The giant statues seemed to watch them as they hurried toward the exit. Now, every shadow was a creature, waiting for them. Every movement, that swirling darkness about to come at them, to devour them. She just had to keep reminding herself that the darkness was trapped in that research lab, it couldn’t get to them. It wasn’t…
Oh crap.
She grabbed Fyffe, spinning the young woman to face her and bringing the formation to a stuttering halt. “The drones? The ones you sent out earlier, what’s their status?”
Her eyes flitted back and forth, checking things on her heads-up display. “Crap, there’s only one left online. I’m checking the footage to see what happened to them… Oh crap.”
“What?” Grayson asked, shadows flitting behind his eyes.
“The drones, they were all destroyed, the same way as the first one.” Fyffe’s breathing quickened her words coming in a rush. “It’s the same shadowy stuff that attacked us in that lab. How did it get out?”
Ellis grabbed her shoulders “It’s okay. We’re going to get out of this.”
Grayson nodded. “Double time, people.”
They ran back through the science wing and into the VR training suit.
Hale scanned the darkness, straining for any sign of movement. Anything in the dark.
There. Movement in one of the VR suites. She fired on instinct, there wasn’t any need to worry about friendly fire with just a pistol. Something crashed into them, taking Ellis down.
“Flash out!” Fyffe yelled, dropping a pair of stun grenades into their midst.
Training kicked in and Hale clamped her hands over her ears, screwed her eyes shut and opened her mouth.
The grenades went off with a deafening boom, and a flash brighter than the noonday sun.
Hale spun, furiously blinking to clear her vision. A young Terran, with sandy hair, crumpled over Ellis. He looked normal, healthy even.
How? There couldn’t be other cryotubes, could there?
Hale grabbed the Terran by the scruff of the neck, pulling him off Ellis and flipping him over.
Ellis scrambled backwards, pulling himself up, his remaining armour light panning over the gathering shadows. They had to get out of here.
Hale looked down at the man she was holding, those tan eyes.
Angels.
“Jim?” her voice sounded distant, even to her.
“Hannah? What- What’s going…” He bucked in her hands the darkness rolling up his body, engulfing him.
A burning cold shot up her arms where the rolling shadows made contact.
Hale screamed as everyone milled around her trying to get a shot, or bring their lights to bear. Somehow, she and Jim were on their knees. She didn’t remember falling. She shoved away and fired with her borrowed pistol as darkness rolled over him, consuming him.
The bullets were absorbed by shadow.
Fyffe and Grayson grabbed the creature, and shoved it into one of the VR chambers and slammed the door.
Grayson pulled Hale up. “Come on, guys. That’s not going to hold it for long.”
They fell back. Hale stumbling through the marines. the sound of shattering glass chased them down the hallway.
Hale pushed herself faster, not wanting the Darkness to touch her again. It felt wrong, a pervasive nothingness.
“Fire in the hole.” Rutter tossed another stun grenade behind them.
Hale covered her ears but kept running. For a second the world was brilliant, blinding white. Then the light faded, leaving her blinking away the after-effects of the blast.
Night-blind from the blast and deaf from the ringing in her ears, Hale stumbled forward. The darkness flowed along the walls, surrounding them again, lashing out.
Grayson caught a blow on his arm, the exoskeleton buckling under the force of the blow and locking his arm into place.
Tendrils whipped at Ellis, pulling him into the wall, his last armour light cracking and dying. Fyffe, her eyes too wide, tossed another stun grenade, dispelling the darkness and giving them a momentary reprieve.
Hale stumbled out into the foyer, still trying to clear her vision. Sunlight spilt through holes in the walls, casting golden warmth across her face. A balm for her frayed senses.
A scream cut across the foyer. Hale spun to see a humanoid form emerge from the hallway – Jim? Shadows billowed around him, apparently none the worse for having been shot and beaten.
At least the sunlight should keep it at bay. They were safe here in the light.
The sunlight faded, casting the room into shadow and the writhing Darkness surged.
Angels, it was still coming for them. Hale stumbled back toward the barricade, raising her pistol. It wouldn’t do her any good, but she didn’t have anything else. How could it come into the light? The light was supposed to hold back the darkness. She glanced up at the fresco. They’d used light to drive back the darkness.
The marine’s rifles boomed, the darkness rippling away from the impacts, but not withdrawing.
“Flashbangs?” Grayson asked.
“Sorry, I’m out,” Fyffe replied, scrambling up the tree root entangled rubble.
With a warbling roar, a Turned – a normal one, thank the Angels – leapt from another doorway and slammed into the Jim – Not Jim anymore, something else. Just a puppet for this Darkness.
The creature bore it to the ground, ripping at the humanoid form and screaming again.
“Come on,” Fyffe called, helping Hale up the rubble.
Maybe they could make it. The ships would be just outside.
The Turned screamed again, the darkness seeping up its arms, engulfing its head. The Turned rose to face them, the last of its sandstone hide disappearing beneath the bottomless black.
With a roar, it charged them.
They pulled Grayson up, his lips moving soundlessly, He must have been talking on another channel.
Grayson keyed back to the squad channel and said, “We’ve got a problem.”
Twenty-One
(Asgard II Shipyards)
Danna
ge leaned over the scanner console, watching the feeds from the station. The only heat signatures were from Arland and the others. No Turned, nothing else alive in there.
Nothing except the voice.
He wished they’d hurry up and get back here with the neural-thing. Waiting was always the worst part. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do from here. Left alone with his thoughts, and the voice.
The com cracked. “Grayson to Folly. Dannage you there?”
The SDF marine sounded panicked. Stars. Hale was with him.
Dannage leapt across the small bridge, flicking the com channel open. “What’s going on?”
“No time to explain. We need evac. Right now. Suppressing fire. Fall back, fall back. Dannage, just get the hells down here!”
The com system went dead. Crap.
Dannage lunged for the pilot’s chair and started the pre-flight. “Jax, what’s going on? Where are the SDF dropships? Arland, Grayson is in trouble. Get back here now.”
Arland was the first to reply. “Sir, the Neural Sculptor isn’t mobile.”
“Doesn’t matter. Sounds like they’re under attack, I want you and Hutch on board before we go down there.”
“On our way sir, five minutes out.”
Luc came on the channel. “Less if I stay put.”
That sounded like a terrible idea, and one Dannage wasn’t about to consider. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I’ll be fine, and you’ll be back before too long. Get gone, Cap’n.”
Damn-it. He didn’t want to leave his crew behind, but they didn’t have time to argue. “Arland, Hutch, get your asses back here.”
No sooner had Arland cut the link when the speakers cracked and Jax came on. “It looks like the Nowhere ships the Feynman was using as coms and scanner relays have gone dark. Not sure why though.”
“Well isn’t that bloody great.” Dannage flicked through the status screens bypassing most of the pre-flight and spooling the main engines. All around him the Folly hummed to life. When Dannage looked up Arland and Hutch sprinted across the landing pad to disappear beneath the Folly’s blunt nose.
A moment later, the hold door clanged shut. Dannage hit the thrusters, flipping the Folly up and away from the landing pad before gunning the main engines and sending his small ship arrowing toward the planet. White-hot plasma streamed off the nose as the Folly screamed down through Terra Prime’s atmosphere. Heads-up display callouts marked the location Grayson had sent for the evac.
Not pickup, evacuation.
You mustn’t go.
The ship rattled as Dannage pushed her faster, desperate to reach the surface. The altimeter scrolled down at a reckless rate. At fifteen-hundred meters he fired off the reverse thrusters, slowing the Folly and pulling her up. By five-hundred, the incandescent glow of entry faded enough for him to make out landmarks.
Callouts popped up on the HUD. The marines sprinted out of Terran headquarters and down the wide steps. Four figures, three in the SDF heavy armour and one dark-haired Terran – Hale. They were all there, all safe.
The street in front of the headquarters was easily wide enough, but choked with debris and scrubby plants. It would be a rough landing, but he didn’t want to risk going further out to look for a landing site.
He punched the com. “Jax, we’re going down on uneven ground, can you compensate with the landing gear?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
The sun dropped beneath the shattered horizon and the front of the building exploded. Dannage pulled the Folly back as rubble pinged off the hull and cupola.
“Dannage, get us out of here.” Stars, Grayson sounded scared. The SDF marine, who had jumped onto a damn Terran capital ship, was scared. What the hells had happened in there?
Dannage dropped the Folly toward the road. “Arland, get the cargo doors open!”
The underside cameras gave him a good view of the retreat. Two of them held rear guard with their oversized rifles pointed toward the building.
Behind Dannage, Arland ducked onto the bridge. “We’ve got them. Go, go, go- Stars. What is that?”
Dannage’s head snapped up. Something moved in the darkness of the HQ foyer. A writhing, almost shapeless mass. More like smoke than anything physical.
Proximity alarms flashed up as something lashed out from the growing darkness. Inky blackness rolled over the ship. Impact indicators sprang up on Dannage’s console. Pressure across the hull. Blackness folded over the screen.
He was about to reply when Jax’s voice cracked through the overhead speakers. “Somethings messing with the engine intakes. They’re going to overheat unless you can clear them.”
What the heck was going on? What was this junk hammering at his ship?
Grayson, still wearing parts of his armour, pushed onto the small bridge. “Put all your external lights to max. Quickly.”
Hull stress warnings joined the temperature warnings on Dannage’s console. “Arland?”
The Folly’s floods burst to life and the blackness fell back. Dannage gunned the thrusters lifting the Folly off and headed skyward. His hands only relaxing on the controls once they were above the cloud base. “Does someone want to explain what the heck just happened?”
“We’re not sure,” Grayson said.
◊◊
Come, we must stop this.
Damn-it, not now. Dannage didn’t want to deal with the damn voice on top of everything else. This whole thing had been a stupid idea. He’d thought coming here he’d be able to fly again. Not with this voice pestering the back of his mind. He activated the autopilot and climbed out of the pilot’s chair. Arland had removed enough of her armour to join him on the bridge. He should get her to fly.
Quickly, before it’s too late.
“Naff off,” he snapped. “You bloody well come to me.”
“Sir?” Arland looked up from the scanner console, concerned. Always concerned these days.
“Sorry, didn’t mean you. Can you fly?”
“Of course.” She came around the console to take his arm and lean in close. “What’s wrong? Who were you talking to?”
“It’s not important.” He squeezed her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips.
“Dannage.” Her voice held a warning tone, he’d grown used to. It broached no argument. “More voices?”
“Same one as before.”
Please, child. There might still be time.
Dannage closed his eyes, trying to focus on the moment – find his centre. “And it’s getting bloody impatient.”
She squeezed his hand, holding it to her cheek. “Captain, we’ll fix this. We’ve found the Terran Neural Sculptor, we have Hale and Vaughn on board. We can head back there now. Get this done.”
Keen to change the subject, Dannage asked, “Have you spoken to Ellis?”
“Yes. His shoulder got torn up pretty bad, but it’ll heal. The Doc’s with him now. Whatever it was that grabbed the ship sounds dangerous.”
She was right. And he had a sneaking feeling it was tied up with his new voice. What was going on in this Starlight forsaken system? “I miss when voices in my head were the strangest thing we had to deal with.”
Arland let out a polite chuckle and leaned into him
A small smile touched his lips as he reached out to cup her face. She placed her hand over his, returning his smile.
“Michael?”
He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. She was soft and sweet. Beneath the sweat, the scent of apples still lingered on her hair. The kiss deepened into something longer, more all-consuming. The autopilot could get them back to the Feynman.
Hale coughed. “Guys?”
Dannage pulled away, breathing heavily and feeling like he was rising from deep water. He glared at Hale.
“Sorry. What’s the ETA on getting back to the Feynman?”
Dannage growled low in his throat, letting his head drop. “See for yourself.”
Outside, the Feynman grew larger. A
blue waypoint track guided them toward one of the larger ship’s aft shuttle bays.
Come! The voice crashed through Dannage’s mind like a thousand knives. Pain driving him forward, blinding him. He couldn’t think past it, couldn’t feel anything beyond a haze of pain.
Then he was falling through darkness.
◊◊
Lloyd clambered out of his hound and through the scout cruiser’s docking port. Time to get to the bottom of this bloody coms issue.
The sudden shift into the larger ship’s gravity sent him tumbling out into the hallway and the arms of a young man in technician’s overalls.
“Sir?” the tech disentangled himself and offered Lloyd a hand up.
“Thanks. What’s the status of the communications issues?” Lloyd asked.
The tech frowned. “What communication problems?”
For crying out loud, they were playing games. “Forget it.” Lloyd started for the small ship’s bridge. The scouts had a beam of a little over two-hundred meters and most of the internal space was either ammo storage or technical space. The bridge sat at the end of a short length of corridor and behind a heavy security door.
Lloyd ducked through the heavy security hatch into the scout cruiser’s small bridge. The ship’s commanding officer, a tall man with a thin nose and small eyes, looked Lloyd over. “You made it. Good.”
Lloyd eyed the man’s uniform. “Commander Saltzman, what’s this about?”
Saltzman turned to the situation display on the front wall. It showed the optical feeds of the Feynman. “This is about showing the SDF that we’re not going to roll over. Lieutenant, is the cyber-attack ready?”
“Ten minutes,” the coms lieutenant replied.
Oh, for crying… damn muppets. They were going to get everyone here killed, over some stupid political crap.
“What the hells?” Lloyd looked between the coms officer and Saltzman. “You can’t be serious. Without the Feynman, we’re stuck here.”
“They’ll back down. Lieutenant?”
“Or they’ll turn you to slightly radioactive dust without breaking a sweat. That ship was designed to kill Terran warships!”