by Lyn Gala
A bug lurched down the corridors, its legs braced against the walls and its head thrust low to the ground .
“What is it?” Tyce asked. Some primitive part of his brain screamed in terror. This was a creature of nightmare and horror vids. It wasn’t an alien as much as the personification of every human fear. Maybe he was still strapped to a Command bed while they experimented on him. That might explain the monster in front of him. The corridors were obscenely wide, so the bug had to be monstrous.
Yoss spoke up. “Why the hell would we recognize that thing?”
“I have no idea, but the Dragon was running around parts of space that Command couldn’t find if you stuck it on their ass and handed them a map.”
Ama cleared her throat. “No part of space I know is inhabited by hairy bugs. What is it doing?”
The camera angle showed the creature from the back, so it was hard to see, but it swung its head back and forth. Tyce had a hypothesis, but no evidence. “Smelling?” he guessed.
“What? You think that's an attack dog?” Yoss demanded. Tyce figured he had been living with Ribelians far too long because he had a gut-level reaction to the idea of a sentient creature taking advantage of animals that way.
“We can’t assume anything,” Ama said.
Tyce studied the watery display. When he reached out as if to touch the creature, the view zoomed in until Tyce could see the undulating green hair. Damn. The Rownt were epitomes of beauty compared to this monster. Its front legs came down on the floor hard enough that the creature’s green hair trembled. Nothing in its movements suggested sentience, so Yoss was probably right about the thing being an attack dog. That meant that the alien handlers were also wandering about. Great.
A dark slash on the floor caught Tyce’s attention. “Look.” When he pointed, the display zoomed in.
“At what?” Ama asked.
“The floor. The claws are damaging the floor.” Deep gashes showed in the soft surface of the floor. And since the ship was organic, that meant the surface would now need to do some version of healing.
“So?”
“Whoever built the ship, they didn't design it to have a creature like that running around inside. We thought the ship was calling for the original ship builders, but that thing does not belong to whoever built this ship.”
Ama inched closer to the display. “Are you sure?”
Tyce trusted not only his logic but a gut instinct that the ship hated this invader. “If the monster walked across the floor a dozen times, it would shred it. This can’t belong to the ship builders.”
“So we have two unknown aliens. Great.” Ama touched her radio. “Scatter. Authorization Zeta Fu. Scatter.”
The code sent a shot of adrenaline through Tyce. He imagined parents shoving children toward the shuttles before grabbing weapons. Some crew would partner up, but most of them would hunt for the enemy on their own, without anyone to watch their backs. Tactically, it felt a bit like a slow version of mass suicide, but Ama was captain now. She had the right to make the call.
He expected Yoss to take off, hopefully to target the aliens and not Command soldiers. However, he still stood at the door, his gaze sweeping the corridor. He spoke, his voice little more than a whisper. “Maybe it belongs to the people who built the ship, but they normally leave their pets at home.
Ama looked at Tyce with such optimism, but logically that didn’t work. “Anyone who built a ship like this is probably going to build all their ships using biological coverings. Those claws are not compatible with this construction.”
“Humans produced artificial intelligence driven ships and then quickly figured out that was a dumb ass idea,” Yoss said. “Maybe this is an obsolete design.”
“True, but if you're inside an AI ship, you can't tell the difference between it and a standard ship that uses computer controls and human pilots. In fact, you're never going to notice the difference until the AI goes stark raving insane and tries to dump you into space.”
“He’s right,” Ama said. “Flooring is so basic that I'm not sure anyone ever thinks about it. So if the shipbuilders liked organic floors, they would have used them in all their ships.”
“Assuming they think like humans,” Yoss said.
“No, I'm assuming they think like aliens,” Ama said. “Humans think that having organic flooring is so stupid that I’m surprised Command hasn’t come up with the idea. Do you think the ship can feel pain when ze gets cut like that?”
Tyce cringed. Human AI ships grew unstable because they lacked the interaction a human mind required. He couldn’t imagine how unstable a ship might become if it felt actual pain. Without the shuttles or access to populated space, though, they had no way to leave.
“Find the Command crew,” Ama said.
Yoss abandoned the corridor and stopped right in front of Ama. “Why?”
Tyce wanted to ask the same thing. He feared she might use Command soldiers as cannon fodder, but he also worried that he was being unfair by assuming as much. It was as if having John back in his life had left him feeling out of balance. He wasn’t Earther enough to predict what Command personnel might do, but suddenly he didn’t feel Ribelian enough to predict the Dragon crew’s actions, either. Even Yoss—silent, predictable, angry Yoss—felt suddenly foreign.
Almost against his will, his hands worked the controls. He couldn’t get the cameras to move into areas where he knew John had his crew. His attempts to call up images sent a buzzing discomfort through his brain. Changing his tactics, Tyce focused on finding any humans up-ship. The camera view zoomed through corridors until it focused on a group of humans huddled behind a heavy door.
Ama ignored Yoss. “Can we get there?” she asked.
He was on the verge of telling her that he had no more knowledge of the ship’s layout than she did, only then he did know. He knew exactly where they were, and the room they’d chosen was near a major artery for dangerous chemicals the ship used to recycle materials. Tyce’s head throbbed as he considered the many ways they could all die before the day was over.
“Let’s go,” Ama said without waiting for him to answer. Tyce traded concerned looks with Yoss before Tyce took point.
Chapter Fifteen
THEY RACED DOWN ANOTHER corridor, the smell of leaf litter and fall rot staining the air. In an Earth ship or even a Ribelian one, Tyce could judge the health of the ship by the air. Were the carbon dioxide scrubbers working? Did the air smell of oil? Was there a distinctive staleness that meant the air handlers had stopped moving air at all?
But on this ship, Tyce had no idea what any of these smells meant. The room with the rotting wall had needed repairs of some sort, but the faint smell of leaf rot—was that normal or a sign that the ship hull was about to rupture? The lack of information made him more jittery than the alien invasion.
“Wait.” He caught Ama’s arm and pulled her toward the wall.
She brought her weapon up. “What?”
Tyce shook his head, unable to explain his feelings.
“Tyce?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a hoarse whisper. The wall behind him felt solid. He couldn’t hear anything or see anything out of the ordinary. The smell of leaf litter didn’t appear dangerous, yet a sense of foreboding echoed in his soul.
Yoss appeared from around the bend in front, walking backward and keeping his weapon up to guard the hall. “What?” He had a quiet fury that radiated off every sharp word and tense muscle. The aliens were in trouble, assuming Yoss could find them.
“Tyce simply stopped.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” Tyce hated feeling so fucking out of control. He didn’t want to act based off gut feelings or vague impressions planted in his brain by a ship sensor. “I don’t think we should go down that corridor.”
With a narrowing of his eyes and a toothy grin, Yoss said, “Then I want to go down it.”
Tyce stepped close to Yoss. He couldn’t match Yoss for height or bulk, but he wasn’
t about to back down. “But Ama shouldn’t.”
“Ama?” Yoss glanced over toward her.
“I know you aren’t questioning my gun skills,” she said darkly.
“No!” Tyce would never do that, especially when she was the best damn gunner on the ship. She talked about how she wasn’t young enough to keep up with the kids on the ship, but he would rather have her steady aim than their ability to race to the end of a corridor without getting out of breath. “You’re the captain now. The crew needs you to stay in a more secure location.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Yoss scoffed before saying, “That’s the most Command-stupid shit you’ve said in a long time.”
“Did you stay in a secure location when you were captain?” she asked.
“No, but...” Tyce closed his mouth. She wouldn’t want to hear the real answer. He hadn’t been Dragon crew the way the others had. He’d been expendable, and if someone was going to die carrying out some outrageous scheme he’d cooked up, it should be him. Besides, he’d vowed to give his life to the Ribelian cause. He’d vowed his next life as well, so if he died, Ribelian belief said he was just hitting a big, old reset button and starting out again, this time without the background of a traitorous Command officer.
Ama sighed. “Captain’s job is to protect the families. Either we all go down this corridor or we all avoid it.”
“We avoid it,” Tyce said firmly.
“I say we go,” Yoss said.
Tyce held his breath. Ama had taken the captainship back, so the call was hers. She gave a single, definitive nod. “We go.”
Yoss loped off without any hesitation. Tyce said softly, “This is a bad idea.”
“I have followed more of your bad ideas in the last three years than I did in the fifty before that. Sometimes bad ideas are the only alternative left, and I should not have to tell you that.” She brought her weapon up and hurried after Yoss.
“If my ideas have worked out so well, you might listen to me this time,” Tyce muttered. He must have spoken more loudly than he meant to because she gave him a quick look full of sympathy.
“When you speak, I don’t know how much is Tyce Robinson and how much is the ship.” Tyce opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I am not disrespecting the ship and zir right to speak. Given that we are walking inside zir, ze has every right to be heard and I am listening. However, I do not know the ship and I must focus on my obligation to the crew.”
“Without any alien influence, I can conclude that walking toward an unknown danger is stupid,” Tyce said.
She moved down the corridor again. “I would expect you to say as much whether or not you did. But you know me, Tyce. You know us. Assure the ship that we have as much respect for zir life as the lives of any sentient creature.”
“You’re assuming it’s sentient now?”
“You’re assuming it’s not?” she shot back.
Given the Ribelian definition of sentient, that would be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Since he couldn’t argue with her, he hurried to take the second spot after Yoss. At least he could make sure she was as defended as possible. No matter what she said, she was not expendable. The Dragon crew needed her calm voice to balance the more volatile personalities on board, including Yoss. He rarely listened to anyone else.
Yoss waited at the curve, his weapon pointed toward the far end, but Tyce hesitated. He kept his weapon trained at the smaller corridor intersecting the main hall. After a second, Yoss eased his way back, his weapon still at ready. “Problem?”
“No problem, which is the problem,” Tyce said. Yoss frowned at him, and Tyce clarified. “I don’t have a problem going down there.” He nodded toward the curve where Yoss had been standing. “I don’t want to go down this branch.”
Yoss looked over Tyce’s shoulder.
Ama peered down the corridor. Nothing seemed dangerous. It was narrower than the main passage, but it was still larger than any corridor on a human ship would be. “Take the smaller branch,” Ama ordered.
Cold panic ran through Tyce’s brain like a small rodent racing in circles.
Tyce tightened his grip on his weapon. “For the last time, all I’m doing is getting vague impressions that something is truly wrong in that general direction. As far as communication goes, this is about as effective as smoke signals.”
“Smoke signals work fine,” Yoss said before he headed down the narrower corridor.
“If I said space was black, that man would stick his head out a window to check,” Tyce said softly. He felt like he’d rewound their relationship by at least a year.
Ama patted his arm. “He doesn’t like change.”
That was the understatement of the universe. However, for all his cantankerousness, Yoss slowed, he kept his weapon up and his every movement communicated his wariness.
Yoss was at the top of a set of oversized stairs when he dropped into a crouch. A half second later, Tyce heard the scream. A series of popping noises followed, and Tyce raced up the stairs to take a spot next to Yoss. He lost his balance and fell to one knee. Yoss grabbed him by the waistband and jerked him back. A flash of heat blasted the hallways, and Tyce shivered as a tremor ran up his spine.
“Don’t get dead,” Yoss said—then he aimed his weapon and fired three quick shots. The shrapnel loads Yoss favored wouldn’t damage traditional ships, not unless they hit exposed wiring, but the sharp projectiles were designed to cut through tissue, and this ship was made of organic matter.
“Watch your shots.”
“I got plenty of ammo.”
Tyce caught Yoss’s arm. “You don’t know if your rounds will damage the ship or how much more damage the ship can take. Command blasted a hole in the side, so the hull is vulnerable to projectile weapons.”
“We’ve got bigger worries than a hull breach,” Yoss said. He wasn’t normally one for ridiculous statements, but that made no sense. If weapons fire breached the hull, they could die in minutes if the ship didn’t have containment protocols or if those functions were offline. Maybe his confusion showed on his face because Yoss eased back and gestured for Tyce to take point. “Go on. See for yourself.”
Tyce traded looks with Ama, and she gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. When Tyce eased into the spot Yoss had abandoned, he saw the back end of a huge beast. Despite the lack of any air currents in the corridor, the grayish green hair undulated. It fired again, and Tyce spotted the movement at the creature’s belly. It held a gun in one of many legs along its stomach.
Ama took the spot directly behind him. “Who does the creature fire at?”
“I can’t see,” Tyce whispered. The monster swung its head around, only it lacked a head. It had a blunt front end with eyes running along a shoulder ridge where the two huge legs with hooked claws attached. The eyes were as large as plates and shot through with red veins that made it appear demonic.
A Command soldier came out a doorway and opened fire. The buzz of a Command energy weapon made all the hair on Tyce’s arm stand on edge. That used to be the sound of target practice, and the academy, and challenging friends, so the person with the lowest score bought the first round of drinks. And now it was the primary soundtrack of his nightmares.
The alien swung his front end around again and fired. The screech of the weapon made Tyce flinch, and the soldier fell to the ground. Then John appeared. John. The idiot had his weapon up, firing blind as he grabbed the soldier’s vest.
Tyce moved before he could process the stupidity of his own actions. He stepped into the corridor and fired. Rather than target the body, the obvious and huge target, he aimed at the alien’s legs. He got two shots off before the creature turned, that blunt, headless front end squaring off against Tyce. Yoss stayed within the partial protection of the curve of the wall, but he began firing as the whole ship shivered.
The alien reared back so it squatted on those enormous grasshopper back legs, and six center legs each stilled, two with obvious weapons a
nd three more carrying devices that didn’t have an obvious purpose. Tyce expected to feel the heat of the alien weapon, and he hoped death would be quick, but the alien simply rattled its front legs against the floor strongly enough that the vibrations travelled up Tyce’s legs.
Then the alien turned to an intersecting passage and leaped into it, vanishing in a single bound. Left standing in the empty hallway, Tyce’s brain blanked out. For a second, he couldn’t process thought. Terror turned to something so cold that it froze his brain. Then Yoss was there, beside him, his weapon pointed at John where he still stood over his injured soldier.
Tyce forced his reluctant limbs to move. He grabbed Yoss’s arm. “Hold your fire!”
Two Command soldiers burst out of the room behind John, their guns up. They hadn’t been willing to take on an alien, but give them a fight they assumed they could win, and they were more than willing to engage. John turned his back on Tyce and Yoss and physically blocked his men with his own body. Fear washed through Tyce so strongly that he couldn’t breathe for several seconds.
“Weapons down. Now!” John ordered.
The taller one, a woman with mismatched eyes protested, “But sir!”
“We have bigger problems than each other,” Tyce said. “Yoss, lower your gun.”
Of course he got stubborn. “I will when they do.” He gave them a wolfish grin that was not lowering tensions in the least.
Ama appeared at his back. “Enough. We will not fight each other. Not now,” she said firmly. Yoss pressed his lips together in an unhappy line, but he slowly let the barrel of his weapon drop.
John grabbed the gun of the woman who had protested and pushed it toward the floor. “Put them down. Now!” None of the soldiers were happy, but they all lowered their weapons without holstering them. Tyce couldn’t call this a peace—it felt more like the microsecond of silence between a trigger being pulled and the resulting explosion.
