by Rob Dearsley
The Turned leapt at them, two of the reddish creatures coming at them from different directions. Both aimed for Marines carrying the demolition packs. Arland pulled her legs up, tracking the creature, and pulled the trigger. The recoil slammed her back into the wall as the high-velocity round ripped through the creature’s neck, practically decapitating it.
The second Turned tore into the Marine at full speed. The young man had the presence of mind to slip the pack off before he was borne away.
Arland pushed off the wall and snatched the pack from the air.
“Mag-boots!” Grayson snapped.
Arland activated her boots. The familiar clunk as they clamped down on the deck comforted her.
Simon yelled, “Down!”
Arland dropped and a torrent of gunfire zipped overhead slamming into the turned. The shots didn't penetrate the creature's hide but did counter its momentum before it reached her.
“Run!” Grayson ordered.
Arland ran.
◊◊
Hale followed Dannage down the ladder into the hold. A half team of Marines was gearing up in the Folly’s meagre armoury.
“Captain.” An older man with lieutenant’s stripes addressed Dannage, gesturing to the three canisters set against the back wall. “Your engineer’s an odd one.”
Several of the Marines watched Hale warily. Would they ever stop being scared of her? Trust her? She glanced over at Dannage. He trusted her, but she could still feel his wariness around her.
“She’s one of the best.” Dannage stepped back to address the group. “That ship out there is the architect of all this death and destruction. Now, we’re going to pay it back. Captain Grayson’s team is heading to the power core with enough munitions to blow it back to whatever starless hells it came from. Our job is to keep the ship from stopping them. Ready?”
The roar of the Marines was deafening. Hale had to admit the speech was a good one, it reminded her of her old captain.
Hale waited beneath the Folly while the first of the Marines spread out, securing the bay. The others climbed down ladders behind her.
Despite everything, it felt good to be back on a Terran ship. The air was musty, but it lacked the oddly sweet tang of the modern ships. And it wasn't bloody child-sized.
Dannage sidled up to her, exuding nervous energy.
“Don’t worry, Captain.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone gets a little worried before something like this.”
She watched as Dannage pulled himself up, setting his jaw. “We’re bringing everyone home.”
What home? She didn’t say it, didn’t even let the resentment into her eyes. But it was there, in the back of her mind. They were going to destroy everything. Her last links to her home, her family, to Matthews. She reached up to touch the ring, hanging from a chain around her neck.
As they set off into the ship, Hale hoisted the too-small, modern rifle.
The journey was surprisingly easy. Hale remained tense the whole time, straining every sense for any sign of the Turned. Around her, the Marines stayed in tight formation, weapons up and ready, rifle and suit-mounted flashlights scanning the darkness.
◊◊
“You sure we’re going the right way?” Dannage asked. The hallways of the Terran ship seemed to go on forever.
Hale glanced over at him. “Far as I know. If the ship follows standard layouts, then it’ll be below that big com tower.”
Dannage nodded. Hale was already scanning the hallway again. Behind them, a pair of Marines worked to get a door open. One of the Marines was elbow deep in the control panel, while the younger man, whom Dannage had saved back on the Montgomery, worked a pry bar into the seam between the doors.
“You sure there’s viable atmosphere on the other side?” Dannage fingered the rebreather hanging from his neck, memories of the Reclaimer’s flight deck flashing through his mind.
“It’s fine, sir,” the youngster said through gritted teeth, the muscles in his shoulders bunching up as he worked the pry bar.
There was a click and a sigh of hydraulics and the doors parted fractionally. Pry-bar almost lost his balance as the end of his tool slipped into the suddenly widening crack between the doors, but recovered himself with practised ease. His colleague joined him on the bar and together they started to pull the doors apart.
Pry-bar let out a cry of alarm as hands the colour and texture of sandstone reached through the gap to clamp around his arm. His free hand groped for his sidearm as he was pulled through the gap. The other Marines rushed forward, a couple trying to angle their guns into the gap, while the rest grabbed their comrade’s equipment harness to pull him back.
The youngster’s hard-shell chest piece butted up against the door, too wide to fit through the gap. A cry broke the man’s lips, covering the wet snapping as his arm gave way.
He slumped to the floor as his comrades piled in, jamming their guns through the gap and firing in a cacophonous roar.
Dannage lunged for the kid, dragging him back. Through the press of Marines, he could see flashes of reddish-brown arms flailing. There were a couple of grunts as rifles were jerked from their owner’s hands through the door.
“Someone get the damn door closed,” a voice bellowed over the roar of gunfire.
Dannage and threw himself against the door, trying to push it closed again, his hands scrabbling over the metal surface for purchase. His fingers hooked over a small lip in the door and he threw his weight against it. There was a screech of metal against metal and the door moved. Maybe only millimetres, but it moved.
He pushed again, managing to set his shoulder this time. When he fell back, gasping, the door had barely moved at all.
“Come on.” Hale slung her weapon across her back and braced against the door behind him. Together they pushed. There was a moment when it looked like the door wasn’t going to move, then it gave up, squealing shut under the force of the huge Terran. Two Marines managed to shove the other door shut and the gunfire died.
Dannage couldn’t hear a thing over the ringing in his ears. Stars, he hoped he wasn’t deaf.
Hale pulled him around, talking to him, asking him something. He didn’t understand what so just shook his head.
She pointed to her ears, enunciating so he could follow. “It. Will. Pass.”
She was right. It was already starting to fade. He could hear the sounds of the Marines breathing hard after the short, sharp battle. A medic was doing the best he could to tend to the youngster. Stars, his right arm was just gone. Dannage felt bile rise in his throat and had to turn away.
“Is he going to—?” Dannage couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Gus’ll be fine. Won't you?” The medic clapped pry-bar’s good shoulder. “Nanites have him stable, but he’s in no condition to continue.”
The kid smiled up at Dannage. “I can carry on.”
Dannage looked around the ragtag group of Marines, before turning back to the youngster, Gus, and shaking his head. “Get back to the Folly, just be ready to cover our exit.”
“But I can—”
An older Marine cut off Gus. “You heard the man. Keep the porch light on for us.”
◊◊
Screams echoed down the hallway, spurring Arland to run faster. The mag-boots slowed their progress. The Turned would be on them any second.
Including the one on Arland’s back, they only had three bombs left.
The cry went up, “Contact rear.”
As Arland twisted to bring her weapons up, a static tingling flashed over her, raising the hairs on her arms. Some unseen force threw her upward.
“They’ve polarised the deck plating,” someone said.
She thrashed, desperately trying to orient herself. One of the Turned pushed off the wall, shooting toward her.
Arland had only a second to react. Adrenaline seemed to slow everything. There was no way she’d be able to bring her gun up in time; the creature was going to hit her.
“
Go!” She threw the warhead to the remaining Marine, a textbook pass.
The force of the throw pushed her toward the wall and out of the path of the Turned. Its clawed hands flashed toward her, going for her throat.
Arland threw up her arms, guarding her face and neck. The clawed hands ripped into her arms. Stars it hurt. She bit back a scream as claws gouged all the way down to bone. Marshalling her strength, she kicked the creature. Her back slammed into the wall. The turned tumbled into the opposite wall, globes of blood spinning from its claws.
Arland fumbled for her pistol, but her blood-soaked hands wouldn’t work properly, and the weapon slipped from her fumbling grip.
The Turned tensed, readying to spring at her. She braced for the creature to come at her again.
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
Arland’s boot bumped the wall, the still active magnets clamping down. “Use the walls.”
Above her, Simon and Grayson managed to hook their own boots onto the opposite wall. Arland grabbed another Marine and pulled him down to get his footing.
“Engineering should be the next compartment,” Simon called.
Arland grabbed her weapons. Her hands still tingled but were working better now. She started after the others, toward the open door. Behind her, more screams echoed down the hallway.
◊◊
Dannage shone his borrowed flashlight down the maintenance shaft. It looked cramped to him, so it must have been a real squeeze for the Terrans. Hopefully, it would hamper any pursuit.
“How far?” he asked Hale.
The big Terran shrugged.
One of the Marines checked his wrist display. “It looks like there’s another access point a hundred metres or so down.”
Several minutes that felt like hours later, Dannage rubbed sweat from his eyes. The crawlway was warmer than the rest of the ship and seemed to be getting hotter the further along they went. Soft orange light pulsed gently along the conduits above them, adding to the sensation of being slowly cooked. Behind him, Hale cursed quietly. She was having an even harder time than the rest of them.
“Is it always this hot on your ships?” he asked, unable to turn to see Hale’s reaction.
“No,” she grunted in reply, “must be heat bleed-off from the Core. Means we’re getting close.”
Close was good, but the heat was becoming unbearable. Dannage scrubbed more sweat from his eyes and pressed forward.
After an eternity in the stifling heat – though in reality, it wasn’t more than five minutes – they came to another access hatch. Despite his best efforts, Dannage couldn’t see what was happening past the bulk of the Marine in front of him. He could, however, hear grunts of effort as the front man prised the hatch open.
Dannage could almost imagine the cooling breeze from the open hallway brushing against his face. The hatch gave with a squealing of hinges. A blast of dank, fetid air rushed down the crawlway. So much for a cooling breeze. Dannage gagged at the disgusting smell, throwing an arm over his nose and mouth, desperate not to throw up. In front and behind him, he could hear the Marines’ reactions mirroring his own.
“Hot damn, it smells like a charnel house out there,” someone called from up ahead.
“Smells like your locker to me,” the medic shot back.
They started shuffling forward as the Marines in front clambered out. Dannage was a couple of men from the hatch when he started to catch some of the hushed comments from men already taking up position in the room.
“That is just wrong, man.”
“Stars above, it’s huge.”
“I feel like it’s watching me.”
Then the man in front of him pushed himself out, ducking to the right and giving Dannage his first look into the Core room, the Terran ship’s brain.
He stopped. His mind unable or unwilling to take in what he was seeing. It was like an old garden where ivy had taken over, covering everything, leaving only vague shapes. Only this wasn’t ivy.
He crossed the room in a daze – he didn’t remember clambering out of the crawlway – and reached out to touch the wall. It was spongy, with a rubbery texture and covered in some sort of mucus that clung to his hand.
Flesh, human flesh. The words ran over and over in his mind, but he couldn’t grasp their meaning. This couldn’t all be human flesh. Where could it all have come from? Why would the Terrans allow it? He turned slowly, taking in the room without really seeing it. Tubes ran toward the centre of the room where the largest bulk of flesh sat. Thick tendrils, like arteries, flowed across the room and down the ventilation systems. He could see where walls had been ripped out to make room for the expansion.
Something clicked and all of a sudden, Dannage could see, really see it for what it was. The structure was still there, as much as he could recognise it anyway. The growth followed a specific pattern. Stars in heaven, it was a brain, an enormous, human, brain.
He fell to his knees, his stomach contracting violently, acid burning his throat as he vomited what little he had eaten onto the squidgy floor. The feel of the brain beneath his hands brought more acidic bile.
He turned to look at Hale. “How?” It was all he could think to say.
“It was never meant to be. I mean, we never—” she faltered under his hollow gaze. “We didn’t mean to.” Her voice, her very presence seemed to shrink as she said the last.
“You didn’t mean to make monsters?” He pushed himself to his feet. The anger felt good after the desolation, the loss.
“We didn’t do this,” she implored him, begging him with her eyes. Begging him to what? Forgive her? Believe her?
He didn’t reply, instead turning away before he said something he wouldn’t be able to take back.
“Captain.” Her hand caught on his shoulder and he spun to face her, his anger evaporating at the lost, almost childish look on her face.
Her hand fell away along with the last of Dannage’s anger. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” he replied.
He looked up, trying not to focus on the brains that had grown across the massive compartment. But now he’d seen it for what it was, he couldn’t unsee it. His eyes kept tripping across things he vaguely recognised. The Marines had spread out across the room and were setting up the bombs. Hale shadowed him as he moved closer to the central mass.
“Can you hear me?” he demanded of the Core Mind. “Do you see us now? I promised I would end you.” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the Marines and their bombs. He could feel the thing watching him, the weight of its attention palpable. “It’s your turn to burn now.”
Something whipped from the centre mass, lightning fast. Dannage felt a wet weight across his head and shoulders. Then he was falling.
“I’ve burned once already.” The words filled his senses.
Twenty-three
- Terran X-Ship, Pyrite System -
Despite everything, the epic scale of the engine room pulled Arland up short. It was easily three times the size of the one on the Hlin. The supercollider, nestled in a network of gantries, curved away into darkness. She passed her demolitions pack to one of the Marines. Behind her, Grayson and Simon forced the doors they’d come through closed. Grayson pulled a tool from his webbing and stamped a line of rivets into the door.
Simon looked between Grayson and the door. “That was our way out.”
“It was also their way in,” Grayson replied.
“How do we…” Simon’s question dried up under Grayson’s even gaze.
Arland understood. The Marine captain didn’t plan to leave. More Marines were securing other doors and preparing defences, while two men started work on the improvised explosives.
Yawning, Arland blinked away her growing fatigue.
“At least there’s gravity in here.” Simon walked over to join her, rubbing his temples.
“You okay?”
He shook his head. “Headache. I’ll be fine.”
Arland’s ears popped. She glanced dow
n at her suit’s status monitor. Oh crap. “Helmets on! Pressure’s dropping.” She snapped her visor closed, breathing good air and feeling immediately better.
The tech’s voice filtered through her helmet. “This presents a problem. The detonators we’re using for the thermite need oxygen to work.”
Crap. The damn ship was fighting against them, and so far, it was winning.
“Can we just use grenades or something?” Simon asked.
“No, sir. We need to generate seven-hundred-degrees heat to trigger the reaction. We were using magnesium to…” The tech’s head snapped up and he looked over at Grayson. “Have you got any stun grenades?”
The Marines searched their packs. Arland felt a high, tingly vibration through the deck. It brought back memories of the Hlin’s engine room.
Arland scanned the darkness for any signs of movement. “Whatever you’re planning, do it fast. We’re not alone.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before the Turned charged them in a blur of movement. Arland fired on instinct, sending one tumbling away wounded. She sighted up on the second creature and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
Cursing the rifle for not having a motorised action like the Marines’ combat rifles, she manually chambered a round and fired. The shot was rushed and hit the creature in the shoulder.
The Marines opened fire, but it was too late. The Turned ripped into another Marine, baring him up and into the darkness.
“Damn, damn, damn!” Grayson cursed. “We’ve only got one bomb left. Stay sharp and protect that demo-pack.”
◊◊
Dannage fell through darkness. It felt like he’d been falling forever. Had there been anything before the dark? He couldn’t remember.
“Everything always burns.” The voice cascaded through his mind. “This universe was born in fire. And to fire, it will return.”
Burning? What burning? He didn’t understand. There was nothing left to burn, just the dark and the fall.
“I burned once.”
“So you said,” he replied, at least he thought he did. The words seemed to evaporate even before they’d left his lips. Lost to infinite nothingness.
