by Ken Bebelle
Cam rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pushing lightly into the smooth floor. The cool metal felt good, like it was sending a charge up through her calves. She flexed her legs, feeling like she could leap up on the wall and climb the rest of the way. Before she could try it though, Jonesy smacked the wall, startling her.
He pushed and pulled at various points, mumbling under his breath, exhaling mist as he spoke. Next to the ladder, he located another circular panel.
He put his hand on it, and waited a beat. “Nothing. You try it.”
Gritting her teeth, Cam reached for it.
In the space between heartbeats, she was transported, viewing the ship from the Earth’s atmosphere. She was dwarfed by the vast emptiness surrounding the ship as it hovered above the clouds. She didn’t see stars or planets. Not dark enough. Abruptly, her head jerked as vertigo brought acidic bile to the back of her throat. Biting back her nausea, she focused on the ship. The image shifted, pushing her through the hull of the ship like a ghost.
Panting through her teeth, “I can see the ship’s interior.”
Jonesy grunted, “Good. What can you tell me? Can you tell where we are on it?” From the sound of his voice, she could tell he was facing away from her, teeth chattering, keeping watch.
The ship was massive. Far larger than any of the jumpships they’d seen on earth so far. If she was to guess, larger than anything ever built by humans. A massive central core, with radiating arms on multiple levels. The frame of the ship bulged and thinned in areas. What looked like reservoir tanks and storage pods dotted the silhouette at regular intervals. Several lifts ran through the central axis. At the top of the core, she saw something like a communications array.
Cam exhaled sharply, stunned by the size of this vessel. This might not even be the largest in the alien armada. And she believed sincerely there had to be an armada despite the lack of intel on it. With their luck, she and Jonesy were stuck on some kind of research vessel, lab rats for the Ringheads. This was beyond anything she could have imagined. Before despair could suck her down its familiar hole, she breathed in again, and concentrated on finding something familiar.
“It’s huge, Jonesy. We’ve never seen anything this big!” Her eyes traced blindly around the corridor, seeing only the massive alien vessel.
“Ok, slow it down. Focus. Look for anything that can help us. Is there another ship we can get to? Can you see a weapons locker?”
Cam closed her eyes and the display panned, slowing on the engine room at the bottom of the core. Not the docking bay, but still useful. Cam stayed there for a long moment, altering the view point from birds-eye to moving through the engine room. Here the aliens were so close, they almost brushed by her virtual presence as they worked. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t really there to quell the urge to bolt.
She counted, two, four, six, eight….when she got to eleven, she zoomed back out. Too many to take the engine room. C’mon, c’mon...where’s the garage on this thing?
A short way from the engine room she saw it. The familiar silhouette of a Ringhead jumpship, secured in a small docking bay.
Hope soared in her chest. “There’s a jumpship! We can take the central lift to--”
“F- f- fuck it,” Jonesy broke in, “I’ll s- set- settle for c- cl- clothes. I d-don’t suppose th- these m- mon- monsters have a lock- locker r- r- room?”
Cam reached out, still seeing the ship, and groped for his shoulder and felt him trembling. Nausea threatened to overtake her again as she began her ghost-like jump along the ship, searching for some kind of reference point.
This time, she found it.
Halfway up the ship, a section with a regular distribution of identical rooms. A brig? She focused closer and ended up looking at the back of her own head. Next to her, Jonesy crouched on the floor, rubbing his chest to keep warm. Cam looked at him with concern. He was looking worse than when she nabbed him from the room, his complexion ashy under his normal dark skin tone. His teeth chattered and Cam recognized her own uncomfortable guilt from feeling remarkably good at this icy temperature. She needed to get Jonesy to a warmer spot.
A quick scan of this section showed another Ringhead two levels above them. One of the rooms on their level was larger than the others and showed promise. She took her hand off the panel and felt her stomach drop again as she came back to the corridor.
“Come on, this level is clear and we need to get to the other side.”
Two
Gearing Up
This room is a dumpster. Piles of clothing and gear from dozens of people littered the floor. A haphazard array of rifles hung on the near wall. Towards the back, several open containers smelled of spoiling meat. Cam tried not to look towards the back of the room.
Cam sorted through the clothes and gear, pulling out a patchwork of Dubs, USMC, and Sino-Sov uniforms for them. Jonesy pulled the rifles down, moving at half his usual speed, picking out the ones with a decent charge remaining. Cam refrained from helping Jonesy, instead concentrating on finding each of them a pistol.
“We’ve got three plasma rifles with a decent charge here.” He strapped one across his chest and passed the others to her. Cam held up four pistols triumphantly in response.
“What do you think happens if we fire these in here? If we miss?” She looked at the walls around them, trying to picture the endless hard vacuum that surrounded them.
“I don’t miss.”
“Lefty?”
“Even lefty.”
Jonesy ripped into a survival kit with his teeth and passed her a food bar as he devoured one himself. Cam watched Jonesy struggle to properly holster his pistols. She hated seeing him in this state. Of course, being Jonesy, he didn’t complain.
Cam pocketed the signal flares from the kit as well as the meds. As he finished eating Jonesy tongued a stim tab. Cam watched the color in his face flush back, saw his pupils enlarge as the drug jacked up his ravaged system. He shouldered a small pack with more scavenged supplies.
She palmed another control panel and re-confirmed the locations of the Ringheads.
“We go down the central lift and we can get to the jumpship. But from here to there we’ll have to avoid several Ringheads.”
“Which kind?”
“Take your pick. They’re all pretty terrible,” Despite her flippant response, Cam thought about it and counted mentally. “One scientist, ten grunts.”
“Ok, our best bet is to keep a low profile as far as we can. The only way we’re getting out of here is that docking bay, assuming we can actually fly the jumpship,” He jammed his pistol into the front of his pants and slung the rifle to his left side. “Let me take point from here, we have to make sure you--”
His head jerked up. Jonesy side stepped to the left side of the door and paused, listening. He risked a quick look into the hallway.
“They’re here,” he whispered. “Not on us yet, but they’re on this deck. I count three, all Hunters. They just got off the lift and they’re headed to check our cells.”
“Can we break for the lift?”
Jonesy’s lips pulled down into a frown. “Negative. There’s no cover in the hallway. Plus, the hall is probably circular, which would make it too easy for them to get behind us.”
Cam hopped to and slid her hand over the display. The dizzy feeling didn’t last long this time, and to her distress, she watched the lift open again and two more grunts get off. Jonesy turned to her and she could feel the shared dread and spike of adrenaline as they prepared to face five Hunter Ringheads.
Jonesy adjusted his rifle, his movements simultaneously smooth and awkward as he braced for close quarters combat. She flattened herself on the opposite side of the door and mirrored his stance. She ran her fingers over the plasma rifle, acquainting her hands with the feel of smooth barrel and the trigger pull.
From the doorway they had a clear view down the central hallway running past the lifts. From her side of the door she could cover the right
-hand branch, and Jonesy could cover the left. She was about to reach up for the control panel and check on the Ringheads’ position when loud, clattering footfalls began echoing through the hallway.
Three
A Bad Idea
Jonesy
Jonesy crouched against the doorframe, keeping his profile to the absolute minimum to cover the hallway that led directly to them. Even with the pounding footsteps echoing around them, his enhanced ears told him the absolute truth: the Ringheads were headed down the central corridor. Which was a good thing because his stump of a right arm was doing piss-all to help stabilize his rifle. Any second now…
He glanced quickly at Cam, or, what Cam had become. He felt sure the LT was in there, otherwise she wouldn’t be helping him try to escape. Yet seeing her like this, her skin blue, strong enough to take down a Ringhead with just a knife…it all sent his hind brain into high alert. Jonesy fell back on his training.
Assess risks.
Ringheads = wolves.
Cam = wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Jonesy = sheep.
Conclusion = risk on all sides.
His active imagination already had a working theory about what the aliens were trying to do with them...maybe successfully with the LT. Knowing Cam as he did, she was probably bulling ahead without a lot of thought to her situation.
While he was dressed in two sets of fatigues topped with Sino-Sov furs, she was dressed like they were in the tropics. She’d grumbled and ripped off the sleeves and neckline of her uniform, turning it into a muscle tank. She’d torn the legs off her uniform for a set of cargo shorts. He’d inhaled two food bars, and his stomach was still growling, while she had barely touched hers.
No question, the scientist had changed her, made her like them. And of course, her ability to use the alien tech was at once a tantalizing asset and mind-bogglingly frightening.
So he kept his focus wide, keeping her in his periphery at all times. It felt like betrayal, to treat her like this, but if she turned on him, he wasn’t about to get caught out. He pondered if he would be able to take the shot, and then another part of his mind wondered what it would take to drop her. In any case, the Cam he knew would want him to try.
His mantra, the thing that kept him alive when the shit hit the fan, was first things first. First survive the Ringheads attacking them, then worry about how much of the LT was left in that changed blue body.
“Here they come, right down the chute.”
Cam nodded, “Hold your fire until they’re all visible. Let’s not lose track of any of them.”
The Ringheads appeared at the far end of the corridor. By the time the first one reached the lift, the last one rounded the corner. Jonesy tightened his grip as best he could on the rifle, wedging it against the doorframe. “Now?”
“Drop it.”
As one they fired, pouring rounds into the first Ringhead. The alien crumpled under the assault, dropping to one knee. The other Ringheads ran towards them, roaring in their strange way. The lead Ringhead stood up, arms braced in front of it as a shield. Jonesy battered it with plasma blasts, but its arms were protecting the neck area he was aiming for. This isn’t going to work.
As they continued firing on the first alien, he saw one of the others opening a panel in the wall across from the lift entrance. It pulled a weapon out of the open panel.
“LT, take those fuckers in the rear!”
As he kept pounding fire into the lead alien, Cam switched targets, forcing the others to bob and weave. She managed to bullseye one of the alien weapons, causing it to erupt in a shower of blinding sparks.
As always, the firefight took place below his wrist, dispensing scorching plasma as naturally as water flowing downhill. His mind became detached, analyzing their position even as the fight raged around them. He kept an ear on Cam, paying attention to her breathing--a little fast, which was normal for her in battle. So that much hadn’t changed.
The gun was getting hot against his face as he continued firing on the lead Ringhead. The incessant chatter of the rifle filled the air around them with the noise of joyful destruction. Just for kicks he dropped his aim and took out one of its knees. Its leg collapsed but the alien stayed up, still with its arms braced protectively. Damn, these things are disciplined.
They couldn't afford to waste resources on this crap. They had started with low reserves to begin with, and if they hoped to make it off this ship they were going to need more than they had. Down range, he watched one of the aliens lean on the panel coming out of the wall and rip it off its moorings. Well, crap. It pulled another weapon out of the locker and began advancing down the hall, using the panel as a riot shield. Behind it, Jonesy could make out the others arming themselves.
“LT! This is going sideways fast!”
The lead Ringhead finally collapsed under the sustained fire and landed in a smoking heap on the deck. The four others took up positions along the walls and began firing energy blasts into their position. The sound of gunfire swelled as crackling bolts poured into the doorway, scorching the floor and walls around them. He ducked out of the line of fire, looked over and saw Cam had pulled back as well. She seemed to be holding it together. And the Ringheads were shooting at her as much as him. So that’s a good sign -- so to speak.
He risked a look out the door in time to see one of the Ringheads plant itself in the center of the hallway with the biggest rifle Jonesy had ever seen. “Cover!” He ducked back in and watched an enormous arc of electricity hammer through the door like a lightning strike. Jonesy felt his hair stand on end, and his face sunburning in the white hot light. The piles of clothes caught fire and began belching smoke into the room. Yeah, this shit needs to end, now.
“Not good! LT! Get the other rifles! Pull all the charge packs!”
They made eye contact through the hail of weapons fire. “On it! Slow them down!”
Jonesy slid down to the floor, to reduce his profile even more, firing prone. Between their cover and tough hides, he doubted he did much to them, but he kept the rifle going. Return fire hammered the doorframe, showering him with molten sparks, the smell of ozone, and the acrid scent of his own burning hair. Tendrils of smoke from molten craters in the walls and floor obscured his view of the hallway. From the corner of his eye he could see Cam going through the gear, frantic, yanking packs. Down the hallway, he barely made out the last Ringhead slowly backing away.
“Running low! We gotta do it now! They’re moving to flank!”
Cam ripped off one of her rifles, unclipped the strap, and kicked it across the floor to him. A moment later she slid back into position on the doorframe with her rifle up, adding to the firefight.
“Pour it on!” she yelled.
He picked up the new rifle and squeezed the trigger down to full auto, turning the corridor into a blazing inferno of ionized gas. The glow of super-heated gas overpowered the alien lighting, casting the hallway in stark orange light. Alarms began blaring as fire suppression systems kicked in, spewing foam over everything in sight.
“Now!”
Cam dropped her rifle and picked up the small bundle, a dozen or so charge packs tied together with a rifle strap. She stepped back and tossed it underhand into the hallway.
Jonesy’s vision narrowed to a tunnel that ended at the charge packs. Time slowed as his eyes tracked the arc of the package sailing down the hallway. The trajectory was long, flattened by the low gravity they were fighting in, but his eyes followed it and matched it perfectly through his sights. It floated gently through the suppression foam, finding a spot midair between all four Ringheads. He pulled the trigger.
The explosion rung the ship like a bell, making the floor buck like a wild animal. Confined to the hallway, the concussion wave threw the Ringheads to the walls and crushed them to pulp. Jonesy watched the wave race towards them, a raging wall of fire and destruction. Not one of my bett--
The shock wave picked them up and flung them into the back wall as tongues of flame lic
ked in through the door. The bone-jarring impact kicked him in the back and nearly knocked him out, despite the stim tab. They slid to the floor, gasping for breath.
Jonesy watched as the decking popped from the stress of the blast. The floor felt loose, wobbly beneath. No, that couldn’t be right. It was his legs that were wobbly. Jonesy rolled up onto his knees, shaking his head to clear it. Ow.
He couldn’t hear a damn thing right now, not even the alarm klaxons from earlier. He tried to get up, but the floor kept moving, making it hard to balance. He blinked rapidly, still punch drunk from the explosion. He settled for crawling across the bucking floor to retrieve his rifle, keeping Cam in the corner of his vision. He found the comforting grip of the rifle buried under the fire foam.
Jonesy army-crawled to a wall, moving like a crippled slug. At last he scooted up, resting his back against a wall. The wall didn’t seem to be moving. That was good. He petted the rifle, the one thing he could trust in this alien landscape. As he continued his deep gulps of the smoky air, he coughed and his ears seemed clear out. He could hear the ship’s alarms now.
Cam was shaking off the impact as well, and faster. She stood, a rueful smile on her face as she looked at him. “Not one of your better--”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Jonesy envied her ability to stand upright. He wasn’t there yet.
They shared a glance for a moment, memories of prior fucked up battles flashing between them in that gaze. He chuckled and shook his head, finally attempting to stand. He leaned heavily against the wall and the floor felt solid once more beneath his feet. Progress. “All right, let’s get moving. With any luck we didn’t slag the weapons locker in the hallway.” Cam grinned and began collecting the rest of their supplies.
Four
