Alien Storm

by Ken Bebelle

  Cam closed her eyes and took a breath. She forced her hands to relax, willing the tension out of her body. As her hands relaxed they drifted over the sides of the bed. Under her fingertips, the bedding felt crinkly and fibrous, almost like leaves. A tingle crept into the fingers of her right hand and a sudden vision of herself pinned to the bed flashed in her mind.

  What the hell?

  She traced her fingers back to the side of the bed, finding a smooth, rounded area and again found herself looking down on her own body in her mind’s eye. She kept her fingers on the smooth pad and the image in her head gained focus. She couldn't see the room, but she could see the bed and the restraints that held her down. Except they weren't restraints. It looked like the bed grew around her arms and legs to hold her down. She couldn't see locks or any way to open them and free herself.

  Her hand chilled from the contact, but rather than being painful, it felt soothing. Her right hand and wrist felt looser and the lack of tension meant she could bring her whole hand to bear on the rounded surface.

  As her hand made greater contact, her vision changed. She could still see the ceiling of the room, but the image of her body was overlaid, producing a jarring vertigo. With her whole hand on the side of the bed, now she saw data flowing underneath the image of her bed. The symbols were incomprehensible, but she recognized her heartrate pulsing in time with one of the feeds.

  A med bay? What the hell?

  With none of the unfamiliar Ringheads in the room, and no immediate danger to her, her thoughts turned elsewhere. What are they doing to Jonesy?

  Thinking of him, the image in her mind flickered, and she saw the briefest flash of him strapped to a similar bed. His back, arched and coiled with tension, agony etched into the lines of his face.

  Adrenaline pounded through her at the sight. She screamed and flailed at the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears, and the data behind her eyes went wild to the crazy rhythm of her panic. Gripping the side of the bed for leverage she pulled, feeling her elbows and shoulders strain against the effort. She felt her neck pop, but she kept up the pressure, willing herself to break through and open her restraints.

  She sat up and nearly folded over onto her legs. The same kind of thin material as the bedding covered her groin. Aside from the brief covering she was naked, her light blue skin a stark reminder of whatever the hell the Ringheads did to her.

  She turned to look back at the bed, and saw it flow back to a flat surface. Her legs remained trapped. She reached up to the hanging instruments, grabbing the robotic arm mounts, and tried pulling her body up off the bed. The moveable arms ripped out of the ceiling mounts, the exposed conduit belching sparks and oil.

  Shit!

  She dropped the robot arms and braced her hands on the bed, trying again to pull her legs out. The muscles in her legs bulged and rippled as she yanked. This time she saw it happen. As her hand brushed the side of the bed again, she saw the restraints begin to waver. The solid forms wrapping her legs released their grip and began to flow back into the top of the bed.

  Cam hopped off the bed and took stock. Nothing she could use as a weapon other than the arms ripped from the ceiling. She picked up one that ended in a wicked six inch scalpel and turned to assess the door.

  Ten feet of matte blue-gray metal door towered over her. With no obvious hinges she couldn't tell which way the door opened, or even see a lock on it. Conduits branched like veins around the frame and disappeared into the ceiling. To the side of the door she spotted a small round panel. Looking back, she saw that it matched the panel on the bed. Suppressing a shudder at the blue color of her skin, she raised her shaking hand, pressing it firmly to the cold metal.

  Again, touching the alien surface superimposed another image over her vision. This time she saw an empty corridor. As with the room, a maze of conduits snaked along the walls and ceiling, reaching out both left and right. She saw no monitors or readouts along the walls. The passageway was lit by an ethereal glow that came from the conduits. Several doors faced her, all closed. The hallway curved away in both directions.

  To the right, she spotted movement, and saw the alien scientist coming down the hall. It stopped before her door and raised a hand, as if in greeting.

  Cam jerked back from the door. As she lost contact with the panel, the image of the alien faded, and now she could see the door opening, rising into the ceiling. She darted to the left and readied her impromptu club.

  As the door slid open, cold air from the corridor poured into her room like a wave. As the cold washed over her limbs, she panted, as a primal, almost sexual energy coursed through her body.

  The alien took a step into the room and stopped, staring at the empty bed. Just the sight of the scientist Ringhead, the architect of her changed body, made Cam scream in defiance and rage. She swung her club up, aiming for its neck. The alien snapped up an arm to deflect the blow. The force of her swing crushed the club against the alien’s arm, smashing the club to pieces.

  Her opponent stepped closer, swinging a backhanded blow across Cam's face. The impact flung her over the bed to the back of the room, slamming her against the wall. Mouth flooding with the salty tang of her own blood, she crumpled to the floor in a heap. The alien advanced, and she backed into the corner, trying to keep the bed between them before getting her feet under her.

  Cam feinted to the door and then bobbed left, trying to get back around the bed. Lightning quick, the alien’s long arms shot towards her, snagging in her hair, jerking her head back. White hot pain lanced across her skull as the alien flung her upper body onto the bed.

  As her head hit the surface of the bed, she could feel it starting to flow and move again. Almost facedown, with one eye she could see the arm of the alien holding her head down. Its other hand on the control panel. The bed began to engulf her head.

  Cam flailed, trying to reach any part of her assailant. She beat savagely against the arm that held her down. With each swing, she felt the arm give just enough to keep her from suffocating. She wrapped both hands around the alien’s forearm, and pulled, straining to free herself. With a wet crunch, she felt its elbow wrench and then the arm gave way. Cam fell off the table, losing her grip on the alien.

  Scrambling to the back of the room again, she saw the alien stagger. Its left arm hung loose, swinging freely at the elbow. The alien reached up and pulled down one of the armatures. The tool on the end looked like a hypospray.

  Crap.

  The alien advanced again, moving cautiously around the bed to Cam’s right shaking its left arm. She huddled on the floor, waiting for her opening, backing herself into the corner again. As it cleared the back of the bed, Cam leapt up and vaulted herself over the bed and towards the open door. In the light gravity she misjudged the jump, and crashed headfirst into the ceiling instruments. A bright star of pain erupted in her leg as one of the sharp implements pierced her left thigh.

  She whipped her head back towards her opponent and saw it jabbing at her with the hypospray. No, no. She grabbed the ceiling mounts and jerked her legs out of reach. The implement in her leg drew a searing hot line across her thigh as she pulled her legs away. The smell of her burning flesh threatened to gag her. The alien kept coming and stabbed her in the right leg with the hypo. In desperation she reached up and yanked the tube connected to the hypospray from the ceiling, releasing a fog of bitter smelling mist. The hypo stung, but did not deliver the instant sleep as it did last time.

  The Ringhead grabbed her ankle and she gasped as her left knee popped, and she was jerked out of the tangle of robotics. The instrument tore completely out of her leg, greenish blood spewing up to the ceiling. The alien swung her by the leg and tossed her against the back wall.

  Agony flared in her back as she crashed. Her vision darkened and swam as she slid to the floor. She landed on her left leg and another spike of pain drove through her. The alien stopped shaking its left arm and stalked over, grabbing her by the neck and leg and lifting her bodily into the air. It
turned and threw her facedown onto the bed.

  Cam let the momentum of the alien’s throw bounce her off the bed and over the side. She hit the floor, her left leg again buckling in pain. Something under the bed caught her attention. As she crouched, the cold air on the floor revitalized her, filling her with strange energy as she reached under the bed and picked up what might be her only hope.

  Breathing in the cold air, the lights became over-bright and her breath quickened. Coiled tension hummed in her arms. The alien stalked around the bed, both hands wide and threatening.

  There was no artifice this time. It stepped forward and swung a powerful right fist towards her head. She raised her left arm to block the strike, and stepped in close, lunging at the alien’s neck. The scalpel blade in her right hand flashed and drew a gaping mouth across its neck. She followed with a quick slash across its right arm, hoping to sever vital tendons.

  The alien howled and staggered back. Cam pressed her advantage, slashing at whatever she could reach. Two, three, four slashes opened up across the alien’s chest as Cam drove it back against the bed. The alien made a desperate lunge, screaming in rage. Cam met its lunge with her own and spiked the scalpel into the alien’s eye. The alien arched back in pain, and Cam kept on, slamming the back of its head onto the bed.

  Pinning the alien down, she reached down and palmed the control panel, willing the bed to hold the alien. The bed flowed up, engulfing its head and silencing the creature. Cam jerked out her blade and stepped back. With great satisfaction she watched it twitch and jitter, futile arms too long to reach the control panel.

  The alien reached for her, but she stepped back, out of its grasp and breathing heavily of the cold air to restore herself. She looked at the alien, wondering what it was thinking now. Thinking of all her fallen comrades, a cold rage surfaced. This thing tortured her, changed her body, experimented on her, and Jonesy, and who knows how many others. A helpless Ringhead was a new and enjoyable experience for her. She aimed her foot at one of its flailing arms and kicked solidly, hearing the crunch with great satisfaction. She immobilized the second arm with another kick and leaned over it.

  “This is for everyone you ever hurt,” she whispered as she plunged her weapon into its belly. The alien twisted in pain and she grinned in triumph as she felt the cold blood running down her arm. She dragged the knife across its body with renewed strength, spilling blood and innards onto the floor grates. The alien spasmed. She whipped the blade out and slashed it across its neck. Skin parted and she used the blade to saw back and forth, cutting tendons and muscles until she reached the spinal column and plunged her blade in. The alien twitched once and collapsed.

  Cam panted, standing over the alien, covered in gore and slime. She closed her eyes for a moment and the fury that fueled her moments before drained, leaving her empty. Cam opened her eyes and the creature she had flayed had stopped twitching. Now horror seeped into her. I have to get out of here.

  Fifteen

  Saving Jonesy

  Cam bolted into the hall through the open door. The last time she had seen Jonesy he was being taken to the right. She moved in that direction, loping along in the light gravity. The curvature of the hallway let her see ten meters ahead. At the next door she stopped. As with her door, a round control panel sat to the right. The panel glowed brighter as she brought her hand up.

  Pressing a hand green with gore against the panel she accessed the door. Once again an image superimposed on her regular vision. Another man, not Jonesy. An icy weight dropped into her stomach. The man in this room was suspended in familiar gel. His legs were gone below mid thigh, and his skull flayed open. Instruments poked into his exposed brain. She dropped her hand off the panel and collapsed to one knee, vomiting. She turned and looked down the hallway at the other closed doors. How many have they taken?

  Cam ran to the next door. This time she found Jonesy, the image showed him secured to a bed identical to hers. She could feel the alien blood beginning to dry and crust on her fingers as she accessed the control panel. She pictured the door opening in her mind, willing it to happen. The door slid up, revealing Jonesy, pinned to the bed.

  His right arm ended in a stump. Puckered scar tissue covered his amputation, midway between shoulder and elbow. Weeping, Cam palmed the control panel and again found that their technology responded to her needs. She touched the bed controls to free Jonesy, then pawed at her eyes, wiping away tears, blood and grime.

  “Jonesy,” she barked. “Wake up, we gotta get out of here!”

  Jonesy’s eyes fluttered as she lifted him off the bed. She collapsed under his weight as she struggled to lower him to the floor.

  “LT?” Jonesy’s eyes were unfocused and fluttering.

  “Jonesy! We have to go! Now!”

  His eyes opened and he looked around. He brought his right arm up to his face, staring dismally at the stump. “Fuck me.”

  When he found Cam’s face his eyes snapped open and he began flailing, kicking his legs to push himself away from her.

  “Fuck you! No! Get away!”

  Cam pinned him down. “Stop! It's me! It's Cam! Calm down!”

  Wide, panicked eyes roamed over her face. Jonesy kept trying to twist away from her grip.

  “Dammit, button it up!” Cam stood up and grabbed him under the arms, hauling his larger mass easily. “Stand fast, Corporal!”

  Once on his feet, she let go. Jonesy staggered yet stayed upright. His gaze kept flickering between her face and then back to the alien lab. His eyes drifted up and took in the implements dangling above them. “LT? What did they do to me? What the hell did they do to you?”

  “I don't know, but we’re naked and alone on an alien ship. I need you to get your shit together and figure us a way home.”

  His eyes dropped, and his head jerked back up to make eye contact with her. He might have been blushing. Cam couldn’t tell. His skin already looked ruddy in the cold air. His eyes hardened and he stood a little straighter, “You’re on, boss. Let’s get out of here.”

  Alien Siege

  Vol. 2

  One

  Rats in a Maze

  Jonesy

  Jonesy stumbled to the door and stood there panting from the exertion. Cam waited for him to catch his breath and peered into the corridor. Undulating alien walls and floors stretched before them, bathed in eldritch light. Other than the quiet rumble of the engines, there was no sign of activity. Cam wrapped her left arm around Jonesy’s chest to support him, and held her knife out as they advanced into the hall. He shivered in the cool air.

  “We have to find a shuttle bay, or take over the bridge,” Cam said. “Did you see anything like that when they brought you on board?”

  He shook his head. His brow furrowed in its familiar way, “The lab is this way,” pointing to the right. “Let's try the other way.” His recall was better than hers. Cam didn’t remember the lab. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. Later.

  They made their way awkwardly, Cam’s leg hurting a bit from the wound the alien inflicted and Jonesy still a bit wobbly. They passed Cam’s open door and Jonesy sucked in a breath, seeing the carnage inside.

  “Holy shit….” he breathed.

  Lurid alien gore dripped from the walls. The alien hung off the bed, dark green entrails glistening obscenely where Cam had gutted him.

  “Close the door,” Cam said. “We can’t risk him being found. Hit the round panel next to the door.”

  Jonesy hit the panel with his left hand. Nothing happened. He hit it again. Cam scooted around him and slammed her palm against the panel. With equal parts dismay and relief, she watched the display engage and the door slide shut. She concentrated on the hallways and imagined zooming out. In her mind, images whirled by, too fast for her to process. Cam staggered and dropped her palm from the display. Dammit.

  Cam dragged in a long breath, trying to focus. What did they need? A ship, guns, and clothes. She looked down at herself, her skin tinged violet in the dim corridor lig
ht. Yeah, clothes would be good.

  “What was that?”

  Cam looked up at Jonesy. “What was what?”

  “You got the door to close. How did you do that? It’s not a mechanical switch. How did you make it work?”

  Cam shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  She told him how she escaped her room, and how she found him and the other dead man. Jonesy’s eyes lost focus as he considered what was happening. His gaze dropped to the blue skin of her arm supporting him, and then to the stump of his right arm. Cam’s intuition hinted at a yawning chasm threatening to pull her down, but she held her breath, waiting for Jonesy to speak.

  Jonesy looked at the crusted palm print she had left on the display, and turned to look at her again, slowly taking in her freakish state.

  “How’s your leg?”

  “What?”

  “Your leg. Looks like you took a nasty hit there. How is it?”

  Cam saw the crusted gore on her left thigh where the robot arm had stabbed her. Nothing seemed to be hurting in this frigid air, though. She wiped away the blood and found nothing but intact blue skin beneath. When she pushed on the spot gently she winced at the pain, but it wasn’t as bad as she expected.

  Jonesy’s eyebrows popped up. He turned his attention to the empty hallway. Cam waited for him to say something about her but Jonesy merely said, “Let’s keep going.”

  He eased out from under her arm, and began making his own way down the hall, falling into the familiar role of point man. Another wary twenty meters down the hall they found a branching passage to their right and a ladder going through the ceiling and the floor. Jonesy began checking the walls near the intersection, running his hand along the strange nodules that sprouted from the conduits. His amputated arm waved futilely as he searched, and he kept shifting his body to allow his left arm to do the work.