by Mark Tufo
Uut was in some serious trouble, completely forgetting about me for the moment. I noticed motion in the stands. Beth was leaving before the last act. I made a move as if to go after her when Uut screamed at me. I was afraid he was going to get a second wind and drag me down from behind. Mistakenly, I didn’t think she’d be able to get all that far. Short-sighted on my part. The damage to whatever part of anatomy I’d punctured under his arm was severely screwing Uut up; he was listing to the side like a water-logged ship in heavy seas. I wanted to finish him off then beat some answers out of Beth, but even critically injured and staring death square in the face Uut was extremely deadly. I’d been witness to the hubris of an opponent thinking the fight was over to only have their critically injured adversary snatch victory from the clenches of death. You have to wait for the fat lady to sing; even then sometimes there's an encore. Beth was hauling ass out of the stadium. I took note that Uut would swivel an eye or two her way as if he were staying alive just long enough to make sure she made good her escape.
What kind of deal had she secured that the Stryver was keeping me in check? I feinted a move to pursue her just to see what my good old spider buddy had left in him. Surprisingly it was more than you would imagine. He’d jumped to position himself directly between me and the fleeing Beth.
“This ship is only so big; she’s not going to be able to get off of it. I’ll wait a little longer while you organ out and then I’m going to beat some answers out of her with one of your arms. I’m thinking that’s some sort of twisted poetic justice.”
I was getting angry hues of thought color from Uut but not much else. He was definitely dying and he was scared. Not so much from the inevitability of that event but rather because he was isolated from his kind. I could hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Bunches of them. The cavalry had finally shown; a little late if they were following the traditional movie tropes.
“Michael!” It was the booming voice of a very concerned Dee.
“I’m fine. But someone please put a couple dozen ounces of Raid bug killer in this motherfucker.”
Uut hissed and popped as he was fried from the inside out by the blasts. Dee had nearly split what was left of Uut in two when he’d come up—he had reared back and with his left foot he had kicked out, striking the beast with the flat of his boot and sent the broken monster’s body toppling over.
“Are you well?” He turned to me, concerned. I nodded, which seemed to take much more energy than it should. I was exhausted.
“How?” Paul was with the men Dee had rallied.
I was looking forward to collapsing against the wall after the fuel injected adrenaline petered out and maybe I would have if Dee hadn’t propped me up.
“Yeah I’m fine, thanks for asking. It was Beth, Paul. She set me up. She wanted me dead. She’s made some sort of deal with the Stryvers.”
He scanned the empty stadium. He looked at me with a serious case of doubt clouding his features.
“Wait,” I held my hand up. “Do you really think I loosed a fucking berserk Stryver in the arena so I could battle it, barely escaping decimation, with the express purpose of setting Beth up? Please don’t tell me that’s what you think. Because if that’s the case, your denial goes far beyond irrational, and I’m going to think you’re not fit for command.”
“But she’s not here, Mike,” Paul said.
“And when has Beth ever stuck around to receive punishment?”
“Is it possible that Uut got out and confronted you here himself?” Paul was reaching.
“Yeah that’s what happened. The stress of being torn apart by a giant fucking spider made me hallucinate Beth and her maniacal tirade about killing me and becoming the spider queen. While I was fighting for my life I came up with this whole elaborate scheme to create a traitorous villain and make this all somehow more epic, because so far it’s been business as usual. You’re a fucking idiot. Dee get me out of here please, my legs feel like friggin’ jelly.”
We hadn’t gone more than a half dozen steps when we were pitched to the side from a violent explosion, although now that I mention it, I’d yet to come across a non-violent one. Alarms blared, lights flashed, and while we waited for an update to come over the ship’s system I couldn’t help but get one more dig in.
“Betcha that’s just a 4th of July celebration. Whaddaya think Paul? Wanna grab a hot dog?”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. When we were out in the hallway and away from Paul, Dee spoke.
“Are you broken?”
“Only on the inside, pal,” I told him.
“I do not know if that is a poor attempt at humor or you are in dire need of medical assistance.”
“Poor attempt? Whatever. I’m mostly fine.”
Dee did his equivalent of an arching eyebrow.
“Injury-wise I’m good; mentally I’m always going to have problems…so, yeah, no immediate medical attention required. Holy shit, getting attacked on all sides here.”
“Where do you believe the ruined one has gone?”
“Ruined one? Very apt descriptor. She could hide on this ship for a while, I guess, but skulking around is not really her style. I’ve got to think she had a plan in place to get off this boat.”
“She cannot fly.”
“I wouldn't mind testing that theory. In the meantime, there’s no doubt in my mind she has convinced others that her insanity is the right perspective.”
“Is that even possible?” Dee asked.
“Actually not that hard, buddy. History is rife with multitudes following madmen. Hell, just look at the past few days. We’ve all of a sudden completely flipped the script and are fighting side by side with Progs, who just helped disable one of their own ships. Shit—if I wasn’t completely sure of what is going on, I’d side with her. She’s going to muster plenty of support if we don’t stop her. That explosion had to be a distraction. I need a rifle and we need to find her.”
“The hangar,” Dee said as I grabbed a rifle from a nearby soldier. We were moving at an accelerated pace, though it was Dee that helped us achieve that.
I was feeling better the farther we went; maybe I was squeezing the last vestiges from my adrenal gland or maybe I was spurred on by the thought of being able to punch Beth square in the mouth. I don’t advocate violence against women, but if they’re trying to off you and take over the universe, I’m pretty sure you’re granted immunity. The problem with the Guardian was that there was more than just one hangar bay—the ship was enormous.
“Hold on, this is insane.” I stopped by the nearest inter-ship system and broadcast my message. “This is Colonel Talbot. This is a priority level seven message. Beth Ginson, yes, the general’s wife, released our Stryver prisoner and attempted to kill me. I believe that she has sympathizers on board and will attempt an escape, or possibly even a mutiny. If you see her, be extremely cautious. She will be armed and she is most assuredly dangerous. Lock down the hangar bays. Repeat: completely lock down all hangar bays. Any unauthorized activity is to be reported immediately then halted or fired on if necessary. Make no mistake—she will kill you if given the opportunity.”
“The general is not going to like this,” Dee said.
“You think? Come on, let’s get one of them golf cart things. I’m not running around this whole damn battleship.”
We’d just found a cart and Dee had crammed himself into it when Paul’s voice came over the speaker. “This is General Ginson. Beth may indeed be dangerous, but it is imperative that she be apprehended alive. She has information that could be vital to our continued mission; she needs to be interrogated.”
“He is blinded,” Dee said astutely.
“It’s got to be hard thinking that the one that you love—or once loved, is capable of wreaking so much evil.”
In the third hangar we checked out, bay four, we ran into something afoul. A guard was in the middle of the hallway, a pool of spreading blood around him.
I immediately got out of the vehicle and had my rifle at the ready. When Dee got out he checked the guard for vitals.
“He is gone,” he told me as he stood.
“I guess she’s not much into being apprehended,” I spat. I went over to the intercom; it was a blackened char of ruined material. “You and me, buddy, for now.”
“As it should be.”
I looked at him for a second, wondering if that was perhaps a dig at BT. Didn’t have the time to think on it further—not with a crazed, armed psychopath on the loose. There were two more bodies a little farther around a bend that led directly into the hangar. I’ve found that sometimes not thinking and just acting is the best solution to attacking a problem. This impulsive tactic has worked for me many times in battle. This wasn’t one of those times. I opened the door to the hangar and was immediately met with hostile fire. Rounds slammed into the door frame, a couple whistling past my head. If not for Dee grabbing hold of me, pulling me out, and slamming me aside, pretty sure I would have ended up with multiple perforations.
He looked visibly shaken.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Although I wasn’t really sure, I had so much fear running through me it would have blanketed the pain. Rounds were still coming and we were still in danger as they hit the far wall of the hallway and began ricocheting. Again it was Dee who had the foresight to close the door.
“Well, at least I found them.”
“Indeed you did,” Dee said, though it sounded more like he was berating me. “Come, we will find another entrance not quite so well defended.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” I was quickly feeling around for holes. I was pretty happy I’d not discovered any, except for maybe the one in my head, according to Dee, anyway.
We went something like a hundred yards to a utility room. It opened up on one side to the hallway and the other to the hangar. Dee quietly opened the door and flattened against the wall. Nothing happened. If I’d had a grenade, I would have tossed it into the small space; Dee merely poked his head in quickly, then pulled back.
“It is clear.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You could not possibly.”
“Sure I can. If somebody was in there, there could be no way they’d miss that giant melon of yours.”
“Perhaps.” He followed me in. We made sure to leave the hallway door open in case we needed to make a hasty retreat. The hangar door opened noiselessly, I was extremely happy to note that there was a vehicle used for transporting supplies on and off ships directly in front of us. It afforded more than enough cover for me and my extremely large friend. What we saw ahead of us gave pause for concern. Had to be somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty soldiers bustling about, and a good twenty or so being used as hostages. The latter were seated on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs and a couple of men guarding them. A shuttle and a few fighters were being prepped for departure.
“So many? I mean, I figured she could, I just hoped she hadn’t. She must have been planning this for a while,” I said, poking my head up.
“Some of those men are from the Hill.” Dee looked as mad as I’d ever seen him. That they knew about the Hill posed another problem. Beth certainly knew; would she compromise one of our last strongholds to further her own cause? The answer was a resounding, “Why the hell not?”
“We have to warn them.” I was looking over the seat bottoms, three men were moving toward our location—not in a hurry, but definitely wary; I guess tactically might be a better word. “We’re about to have company.” I slowly raised my rifle and rested it on top of a seat. One of the men paused like he might have seen something and was squinting to get a better look. I sent him a piece of lead to help him along. He fell backward as it slammed into his breastplate and tore through his heart and lungs. He was dead before his head slammed off the floor. The return fire was immediate and brutal. I had to pull my gun away and put my back against the vehicle. “That went well,” I said.
“We should perhaps withdraw.” Dee was looking to the utility door.
Just as we were getting ready to make a dive for it, the shooting stopped and a voice rang out.
“Michael…is that you?” came out in a sing-song voice.
“I can almost smell your insanity from here, Beth!” I answered. You ever get the bright idea to poke a hornet’s nest with a short stick? Yeah, pretty much the same result here. The firing intensified. Two men who, I might add, had probably fought right next to me not all that long ago, were dragging their fallen comrade back. That could only mean one thing.
“Now Dee!” I pushed on his shoulder as I got up to run myself. The beauty of having a bigger, quicker friend is his ability to airlift you to your destination. Even as fast as things were moving I had the foresight to press the “close” button on the door as I sailed past it. Dee made it in just as the door was in position to suffer its preordained fate. I could just hear the whoosh of a rocket before the resultant explosion as it just about tore into our makeshift bunker a tad of super-heated air came inside with us. I landed in a heap on some cables and tools; Dee was standing there looking all stoic and shit. The room rocked as chunks of debris slammed off the wall and door. Got to love spaceship grade metal; nothing deadly got through. He reached down and helped me up.
“I would have made it on my own,” I told him.
“Undoubtedly.”
“I’m sensing a little bit of sarcasm in your tone.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“What the hell do we do now?”
“We should perhaps wait for reinforcements. In the meantime, you or the general should order a full-scale evacuation of the Hill.”
“Damn her, damn her to hell! She’s got to know we’ll never allow her to leave this bay, right? Even if she blasts her way out we’ll just blow her out of the sky, right?”
“Will the general do that?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I hoped he would but there was no guarantee. I touched the door, because I’m just that smart, and it was as hot as you would expect it to be after taking a missile hit. I played it off as best I could, but there was no way Dee missed me shaking my hand around like I’d been stung by those aforementioned wasps. When we came out of the utility room we were met with a platoon of Marines sealing off the corridor.
“Put down your weapons!” A corporal and three of his men were in all their gear and they looked like they meant business. There are times, rare, but still, when I know enough to let my tongue roll back into my mouth and not let it wag. I quickly put my rifle down and raised my hands into the air, as did Dee. The three men were advancing and I couldn’t help but notice that two of them had their fingers on triggers. There was indeed a good chance we had given ourselves up to a couple of plants from Beth’s squad. All they had to do to eliminate us was pull the trigger and say we’d moved on them. Problem solved, as far as they and their boss was concerned.
I noticed a sergeant moving through the men stationed throughout the hallway keeping tabs on the doors. Shit, for all I knew all of them could be hers, allowing her to make good her escape. We all wore the same colors; how the hell were we supposed to be able to tell who was fighting for who? At a time we needed to pull together like no other time in history, Beth had found a way to drive a wedge straight through. Although in fairness, it wasn’t all her fault. I, along with a few others, had just changed the rules to the game. There were bound to be some that didn’t want to play that way; Beth was just smart enough to marshal the malcontents up and use them for her own reasons and purposes under the guise of staying the original course. Beth had enough men with her to take over the hangar, but she was too smart to evacuate all that were loyal to her, leaving the Guardian to Paul. It was smart to assume she had them planted all throughout the ship, the Hill, and any other vital installation.
How many steps ahead of us was she? While we were busy fighting a war, she was solidifying her position so that no matter which way the
tide flowed she would emerge in the best position to capitalize on the outcome and float on home victorious. We had no way to identify her compatriots, here or at home. It wasn’t like they all got a secret tattoo or something.
“Not so sure about this Dee,” I said softly.
“It will be fine, Michael, once they recognize us.”
“Yeah…that’s what I’m worried about.”
“Oh.” I think he was just boarding my crazy thought train.
“Corporal, stand down! That’s Colonel Talbot and Major Drababan!” The sergeant was coming up.
I don’t know if it was my slant on the whole affair, but that corporal looked less than pleased. The lance corporal to his right had a better poker face and didn’t show any outward opinion, the private to the left just looked relieved he wasn’t in the thick of it yet.
“Yes, Sergeant,” the corporal said, giving me one last long hard stare before turning.
“Sergeant Howdee, good to see you.” The man was over six feet tall, severe looking, close-cropped salt and pepper hair and cold, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to take a measure of you when he spoke. But no matter how he looked I could not help but smile whenever I said his name, and I think he knew that and it pissed him off to no end.
“Can you give me a sit-rep of what’s going on inside, Colonel? They’ve cut the camera feeds.” The sergeant was all business.
“Beth has—”
“The general’s wife?” he asked for clarification.
“One and the same.”
In a very unlike him move, his military decorum slipped for a moment. “Been wondering when this would happen.”
“I think we all have,” Dee replied. The sergeant seemed embarrassed he’d gaffed and happy we’d let him off the hook.
