Space Bound: A Dragon Soul Press Anthology

by J. E. Feldman

  "Sounds like they found the captain," Andrews whispered. "After everything, I'm still sorry it had to go down that way."

  "Oh, I wouldn't write the captain off just yet," Eddie said. "But you just worry about…oh shit."

  "What?" Andrew asked, looking around. He wondered what Eddie had seen through his eyes that he had not. There was no answer. "Eddie?"

  Andrews continued without the helpful voice who always guided him. At first, it seemed like the second time he'd been abandoned in an emergency, but the more he thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. Eddie had gone silent many times during the trip.

  When Andrews finally reached the security office, he took care to exit the tunnel quietly. The exit was only several meters from the door to the security office. He found the door ajar and slowly pushed it open to find two men in military grey undershirts, matching boxers, and socks. They were laying on their backs and their faces were shining. He realized, as he got closer, that sealant had been applied to their mouths and nostrils; a cloudy compound gel that hardened smooth and was used to temporarily mend leaks.

  On the chair by the monitors, that viewed most of the traversable rooms and corridors of the ship, there was a neatly folded uniform with boots, tactical vest, and a gas mask. Andrews eyes were caught by the sight of uniformed men on the monitors. Two pairs made their way down smoke filled corridors and another fired shock rounds at the captain. The captain, in his mutilated and crudely armor-plated state, charged the men. Seemingly resistant to their nullifying weapons, he rammed one into a wall and pushed his bladed arm into the soldier's neck. Spinning off him, he took a swing at the other, leaving the first spraying blood from under his jaw. The guard clutched at his neck with both hands as he staggered to his death. The other guard was knocked back onto the floor, where the captain charged.

  "Don't move," a panicked voice said from behind Andrews. Peering back, Andrews saw a man in the same uniform and gasmask pointing a shockrifle at him. "Did you do that? Did you fucking do that?" he angrily asked, pointing to the men on the floor.

  "What?" Andrews asked innocently. "I just got here."

  "Bullshit," the soldier said. "Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees, pyscho."

  Andrews nodded slowly and complied. "I think the captain might have done this. If you look at the monitors, you'll-"

  "Shut up," the solder said, muffled by his facial covering. "I said get down."

  As Andrews got to his knees by the threshold of the security office, another soldier stepped out from behind the door.

  "He didn't do it," the other soldier said, sounding strangely familiar to Andrews.

  "What the hell happened?" the nervous soldier asked.

  "Someone knocked them both out with a shock baton on max setting," the other soldier said, pointing to a shock baton on the desk below the monitors. "Then used sealant to suffocate them."

  "Oh shit. Shit," the soldier in the corridor said. "And what makes you so sure it wasn't this asshole?"

  "Because it was me," the familiar soldier said, pumping two shock rounds into the confused soldier. "Andrews. Put the uniform on quickly," he said, stepping over to the floored soldier he'd just shot. He took with him a sealant applicator and knelt down on the convulsing man's chest.

  "What are you doing?" Andrews asked.

  "Waiting for you to put that damned uniform on," he said, ripping off the soldier's gas mask.

  "Eddie?" Andrews asked, placing the voice.

  "Of course, Eddie," Eddie said, through his stolen gasmask. "Who were you expecting, the captain? Now, put that uniform on, if you want to get out of here alive."

  "I don't understand," Andrews said.

  "If you put on the uniform, they'll think you're one of them when we slip out," Eddie said. "So, hurry up."

  "No, I thought…" Andrews began, before realizing he needed to quickly comply. He hurriedly slipped into the grey overalls and tactical vest. "I thought you were in my head."

  "Yeah, I had to make peace with that, in the end," Eddie said, standing up. "You were struggling to retain most information, as it was, so I had to focus on the important stuff." He began stomping the other soldier's gas mask to crack the visor. "And let that voice-in-your-head crap just slide. Though in the end, I found myself leaning into it. It just seemed easier."

  "What are you doing?" Andrews asked.

  "You need to look injured, so we have an excuse to leave the ship without a prisoner," Eddie explained. "Put the good mask in your bag, just in case. Then put on this one." Eddie pushed the unconscious soldier up to a sitting position, getting around behind him to support his back. "Quickly now."

  Andrews, now dressed as one of the soldiers, bent down to pick up the damaged mask. Eddie grabbed his arm.

  "Kneel down a sec," he instructed.

  Andrews complied. "So, who are you?"

  "Put on the broken mask already," Eddie said. "And try to remember that these guys came to drag you to your death."

  As soon as Andrews had the mask on, Eddie cut the soldier's throat, spraying Andrew's mask and chest. He dropped the knife to grab Andrews by the vest and pulled him in to make sure the blood got on him, as Andrews instinctively tried to recoil.

  "What the hell?" Andrews panicked.

  "Now you look like you ran into the captain," Eddie said. "Remember to act injured if we see anyone else."

  "Oh, what the hell, man?" Andrews said, horrified. He looked down his own chest as best he could through the cracked and bloodstained visor. Everything looked red.

  "You look perfect," Eddie said, pulling him up to his feet. "Now, let's go." He looked back to the security feed a moment. "Oh, actually, give me a second."

  Andrews stayed close to Eddie so they could quickly switch to the ruse of one soldier carrying his injured friend. They jogged down the corridor, making their way towards the airlock attached to the station's boarding bridge.

  "Who are you, exactly?" Andrews asked. "And how could I hear you all that time?"

  "I made you sew a comm badge into your collar so I could communicate with you from the security office," Eddie explained. "As for who I am, I'm the escape expert you need right now. I ditched Hades-Seven. Though, lucky for you, I really picked the wrong damned ship to do it on."

  "You're a prisoner?" Andrews asked, shocked.

  "Well, we're both fugitives now. Don’t look too hard down your nose."

  "What were you in for?"

  "Self-defense," Eddie said. "I just…got a little carried away with it. Always had an overactive sense of self-preservation. Turns out the justice department are of the firm belief that you're supposed to let people rob you and do whatever else they mean to while they're at it. Who knew?"

  "You did kill those three soldiers," Andrews said. "You do seem to take survival quite seriously."

  "Fuck those guys," Eddie said. "You were doing your job, paying your taxes, then someone decided to make you a lab rat and experimented on your brain, and on the captain's. They locked you up together expecting you to tear each other apart. Those guys came in here, maybe not to kill you themselves, but to make sure you don't get away. Don't waste any sympathy on them."

  "They were just following orders."

  "An excuse that'll put them in with some interesting company when they get to hell."

  "And what did you do to the security desk?" Andrews asked. “Just before we left."

  "Replaced the security log drive," he said, patting one of his pockets. "We have the footage of everything that happened on this ship until then. They'll only find an aftermath. Should buy us some…"

  At the sound of approaching men, Eddie quickly grabbed Andrews' arm and pulled it over his shoulders as if half carrying him. Andrews sunk his head, just before they came around the corner.

  "Oh, shit, what happened to you?" one of the soldiers asked.

  "Lunatic's welded bits of metal and blades all over himself," Eddie said. "He was making his way to the bridge."

  "S
hit, right," the soldier said, nodding as he looked back the way he came. "To the bridge," he ordered two more who ran past, before pointing to Andrews. "Better get him to medical."

  Eddie gave a nod and took Andrews through the boarding bridge. "Alright," he whispered, as they entered the station, "we need to see if there's any commercial or private ships docked here."

  Andrews looked around at the corridors of white paneled walls, though they looked bright red through half of his cracked visor. A stark contrast to the dark grey bulkheads he'd been trapped between and the even darker tunnels in which he'd been forced to hide. "How are we paying for passage?"

  "We can't," Eddie said. "If either of us use our credits, we'll be located. Neither of us can afford that. Though my assets are probably frozen since my incarceration. Either way, we'll probably have to cargo-hop."

  "Stowaways?"

  "Yeah, until we end up somewhere vaguely familiar and find the right people who can help us."

  "You have underground connections?"

  "No," Eddie said, annoyed. "I told you. I got arrested because one of the assholes who tried to rob me didn't survive the encounter. Risk of the fucking trade, if you ask me. But before that, I worked a job, paid my taxes, followed the law. I don't have syndicate friends, I don't know hackers, jackers, or slackers, and I don't have a safehouse set up somewhere. We’re going to have to play it by ear, like I said. But so far so good on that front, right? We're off the broken ship with the poison water, after all."

  "Well, this is going to be interesting," Andrews said as they made their way around the station's docking ring.

  Eddie shrugged, quickening his pace. "Think of it as an adventure."

  Andrews shook his head. "I can barely see through…" he trailed off as he felt an odd vibration beneath his feet. "What was that?"

  A deep croaking of stressed metal echoed through the walls about them as a second vibration rumbled, shaking them almost off their feet.

  "Quickly," Eddie said, stumbling into the wall. "Next ship, whatever it is, we're getting on it."

  Andrews tore off his gasmask and threw it on the ground. "Can't see a bloody thing," he hissed, just before everything went dark. "Seriously?"

  Emergency lighting came on. Red strips of light appeared in the floor, suggesting in monodirectional pulses, that they move away from the ship they'd just left. "Please clear Dock Five," a digital voice announced over the station's comms. "Breach on Dock Five. Sealing air locks."

  "Good luck, brave boys in grey," Eddie said, as they quickened their pace down the now dark corridors.

  "Well, we lasted months in there with him," Andrews said.

  "You did," Eddie corrected. "I was relatively safe in the security office."

  "Welded," Andrew recalled. "You said it was welded shut before. But it wasn't."

  "Yeah, no offense, but I didn't know how far behind the captain's your mental state was," he defended. "Captain wanted to throw you in space for not turning up to work. I wasn't sure what you were going to do with an escaped prisoner."

  "You were scared of me?" Andrews asked, surprised.

  "Of course. You should have seen how easily you were tearing off those cistern panels in the toilets. I didn't want you tearing my arms off and beating me to death with them as you went into some psychotic rage." Eddie stopped by a panel. "Dock Eight’s the nearest ship."

  A shockrifle fired somewhere behind them, followed by a loud grunt, then a terrible scream. Andrews looked back, slowing down.

  "Come on," Eddie said, coming back for him. He grabbed his arm. "I think the seal was a little late. We better run."

  A clunking sound began to echo up the winding corridor, getting closer. Andrews gave Eddie a nod, and the pair began to run for all they were worth. Andrews felt exhausted, but as soon as they started running, he found his body responding to it. Stimulated, invigorated. His heart was pumping hard and his whole body felt alive.

  Around the corner, three soldiers, running towards the danger, ploughed into them. It took a moment for them to react to the fact that two soldiers, seemed to be running in the wrong direction.

  "Wait, where the hell are you two going?" one of them asked.

  "Medical?" Andrews said, no longer bearing the mask that completed his injured look. Just a man in a bloody uniform, with a beard of several months. While he couldn't see their faces, it occurred to him that he'd never seen a base nor station soldier that wasn't clean-shaved. It took a moment of furrowed brows and squints before the realization clearly dawned on them as well.

  "Who the f--?" one began to demand before Andrews grabbed him by his vest and threw him into another, knocking them both onto the floor.

  Eddie raised his gun, but Andrews was quick to kick the third soldier in the crotch, then threw him into a wall.

  "You guys might want to forget about us," Eddie suggested as the clunking footsteps got closer. But before he and Andrews could take off again, the bloody metal monstrosity that was the captain of Custodian One was within sight.

  "Andrews?" he yelled, once his eyes landed on him. He ignored the others until they started firing upon him.

  "Oh, what the hell?" one of the soldiers yelled in shock at the sight of the walking mutilation, jittering and gritting its bloodied teeth at the shock rounds striking him, sending electricity through his muscles and nerves; conducted all the more by the excessive metal running through and over his body.

  The captain pushed one of the soldiers into the wall as his eyes rolled back from the agony of the assault. Before the man had a chance to step away from the wall, the same arm was brought back in and flung hard and fast, crushing his head against the hard surface. There was a terrible cracking sound as the soldier's mask was dented inward and the breaking visor turned red from the inside. As he took a twisting swing at the next one, driving the sternum cutter into his shoulder, Eddie grabbed Andrews by the arm again and pulled him away without saying a word.

  "Andrews," the captain screeched, as the pair ran around the bend of the docking ring.

  Part of Andrews guiltily wondered if his captain was calling for help from somewhere under the chemical-induced fog of rage and confusion. The notion churned in his belly as he powered on, leaving the screams of the soldiers behind them.

  "Dock Eight," Eddie yelled, quickly pointing to the yellow glowing number above the extended docking bridge.

  "Uh, who the hell are you two?" a crewman asked, as the pair barged onto the ship.

  "The guys who are going to save your life," Eddie yelled. "Now shut the hatch. Get off this death trap."

  Andrews sealed the hatch before anyone could respond. With little more than emergency lights to illuminate them, the rather casual-looking crew of whatever ship they'd boarded were still too busy slowly reacting to two soldiers barking orders at them.

  "Tell your pilot to move this thing before we all get shredded to pieces by Captain Nightmare out there," Eddie said, grabbing a sweaty crewman in green overalls. He shoved him into the next section.

  A deep metallic clunk pounded on the door, followed by another. Somewhere under the sounds that startled the crew, a faint muffled voice was yelling. Andrews couldn't make it out, but he knew it was his name.

  The ship's computer crackled on, as if clearing its throat while the engine began to hum. "Unlocking docking arm. Ringside airlock sealed," it said in a corroded and corrupted voice.

  Andrews, who had been standing ready, uncertain of what course he would actually take if the hatch had been somehow forced opened, fell to his knees. The nearest crewman ran to a panel and activated a video feed of the hatch-cam. "What the actual…" was all he could say as his horrified face was lit blue by the screen. "Yeah, I think it's time to go, Mike," he said, pressing a button on the wall.

  As the docking clamps released, the banging stopped, and Andrews let himself roll onto the floor, staring at the ceiling of the stranger's ship.

  "Who or what is that?" the crewman asked his new passenger.

&
nbsp; "Is?" Andrews asked, looking to the crewman staring into the viewscreen. "Is?"

  The crewman pointed to the screen, forcing Andrews to push himself up and join him. As the crewman stepped away, Andrew looked at the blue feed. Startled by the image, he pulled his head back. There--clinging to the hatch by his metal arms--was his captain, frozen and twisted. His icy face was cracked in mid-scream. Andrew's relief far outweighed his pity.

  "My boss," Andrews answered the crewman before taking a seat. "And I think it's safe to say, I just quit."

  Kris Ashton

  An Australian writer, Kris Ashton has published nearly forty short stories in a range of high-profile titles including Dark Moon Digest, Andromeda Spaceways, Antipodean SF and Perihelion SF.

  His sci-fi/horror novel, Invasion at Bald Eagle, published in October 2018, received a glowing review from author Megan Kelly in Aurealis #118 and has enjoyed consistently good sales.

  Kris graduated from Western Sydney University in 1997 with a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in creative writing and literature, and has been a journalist for more than twenty years. He lives in the wilds of south-western Sydney with his wife, two children and a crippling mortgage.

  Learn more at KrisAshtonWrite.wordpress.com

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  Kris Ashton

  When I first met her, Cynthia and I were both running late for a xeno-biology class at MW Central University. We scampered into the lecture theatre via separate doors and made for two empty seats in the first row. We sat in almost perfect synchronicity and smiled at one another. The professor behind the lectern waved a tentacle at us.

  “A once-only, never-to-be-repeated performance, I trust, ladies?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Cyn, flashing him a winsome smile. Only coming out of that face – the deep olive skin, the straight white teeth, the button nose, the tight ringlets of dark hair – it could never be construed as something so unassuming as ‘winsome’.