“All right,” Baker replied, pulling his gaze from Talmadge. “Then let’s move.”
Vuong nodded, rising to his feet with a quick nonverbal exchange shared between him and Fascio.
“After you,” Sarge replied, waiting for the two men to make their way past before following them close behind.
The creature watched the two men turn and make their way down the hall. It clung tightly to the back of the one they referred to as Sarge. It had control, and now, with three of them left, it had to play it very carefully. It was so close to getting off the station, so close to escaping. It could feel its hunger growing and rippled in nervous anticipation of the thought of a populated planet that awaited. The taste it had been offered upon its release was nothing compared to what it knew awaited on the planet they were from. It the Baker creature’s thoughts were anything close to what the reality was, then it would be able to grow beyond any scope of what the tiny planet before had allowed. Nothing would be able to stop it.
As they passed hydroponics Fascio caught a glimmer of white; a sheet of paper held in the hand of a man lying against the wall. The handle of a screwdriver was protruding from his head, and he could see where a pen had fallen aside. Fascio approached the man and bent down, picking up the scrap of paper.
Don’t believe anyone. They all lie. It’s here with us, in the dark. It’s part of everything. It feeds on our death. It consumes it. It cannot escape. It’s in me.
Fascio crumbled the paper and tossed it to the ground, turning to continue on.
“What did it say?” Sarge asked from behind, glancing suspiciously at the crumbled ball below.
“I’m not sure,” Fascio replied, stepping towards the hallway that branched to the left.
They continued on, the empty hallways pressing in on them from all sides. Vuong could feel the sergeant’s gaze boring into him with every step, and waited nervously for the sound of his pistol cocking behind him. He had to do something. His mind rattled with a nervous anticipation. Whatever it was that was loose in the station, was now inside Sarge. He didn’t know how it happened, or when, but he knew that the sergeant was no longer himself, and that thought agonized him. He knew with every step he took, that there was no way he could allow the sergeant to get off the station, and that meant stopping him before they reached the cargo bay, if he didn’t find a bullet lodging in the back of his skull first. The stream of thoughts stung deeply, the fact that he found himself even entertaining them a harsh reminder of the situation they had been dropped into. All he wanted to do was survive and get back home.
“Sarge?”
“Yeah?”
“I bet you’re pretty happy to get home to your family huh? After all this time?”
Fascio glanced at Vuong. They both knew that Sarge’s family was dead. He tensed, knowing that Vuong was potentially stoking a fire that could very quickly get them both burned, baiting a creature they knew nothing about.
Baker could see his daughter’s face smiling in front of him, the smell of Friday night pasta in the kitchen wafting up to his nose. His wife cooked it every week. He missed that smell. “Yeah,” he replied blankly. “I miss them.” He knew he had to play it off. If his men realized his family was already with him, they would try and keep them from leaving. They wouldn’t understand. They were back. Somehow, they had come back.
They reached the door.
“Sarge,” Fascio said, turning around with his hand nestled against the stock of the shotgun. “You know your family’s dead right? They died a year ago. You were devastated.”
Baker stared at him blankly, rummaging through the cloud of thoughts that swirled in his mind; a jumble of memory flashes and overlapping voices. It was impossible. He had heard them speaking to him since he had arrived. He had seen them. They couldn’t be dead, yet, somewhere, deep in his mind, he felt a pain struggling to resurface, a deep loss and anguish that told him the other was right. No… They were trying to trick him. If they could confuse him enough, he would show weakness, and if that happened, then they would turn on him. They were going to take the ship for themselves. They were going to leave him… “You don’t think I know what you’re doing?” he spat, his hand slowly moving to the pistol at his side. He could see the crooked smile slowly spreading across the other’s face, twisting at the edges beneath eyes ringed dark. No one was going to stand in his way. No one was going to keep him from leaving.
“You know it’s true Sarge,” Fascio continued, watching the sergeant’s hand continue to edge closer to his sidearm. “It’s this station. It gets to you. Whatever’s in here with us is making you, making us, think things that aren’t true. It makes you see things. I’m seeing them too Sarge. I know it feels real, but it’s not. It’s this, goddamn, whatever it is. Whatever it is they let loose out there. We have to get out of here Sarge.”
Baker watched as the soldier mocked him, his eyes narrowing to thin slits as jagged teeth peered through the thin opening. “You can’t hide now. I can see you,” he whispered, his hand moving closer to his pistol, just within striking range.
Fascio watched as a smile flashed across the sergeant’s face. In an instant he was raising his sidearm.
Fascio ducked and pulled his shotgun free at the same time, rolling to the side as two rounds impacted where his face had just been. In one motion he rolled to a stop and pulled the trigger of the antique weapon at the same time. The sergeant’s head exploded against the wall behind him, his corpse dropping to the floor in a heap.
Fascio stood there, the ringing blast ringing in his ears as the smell of powder rose into the hall. Stunned, he stared down at his sergeant; a man he had fought for many times, had gone into live firefights with and killed alongside. He stood there blankly, his gaze locked to the tattered neck spouting blood in short bursts as the man’s heart finally came to a stop. Shock washed through him as he watched the air in front of him stir, a thin vapor rising upwards.
“There!” Vuong screamed, raising his rifle and firing at the shimmering space that wafted upwards.
Fascio flipped the shotgun behind him and leveled his rifle, firing at the shifting space above as round after round exploded against the ceiling.
There was a thin sound, a silent scream that pierced the inside of their ears as the shape flashed to the other end of the hall and disappeared into the darkness of the corners. Was it pain, anger, anguish? The sound was less a noise than a sensory experience. Vuong stood there, staring without blinking as he waited for movement to return. Then without averting his gaze, asked, “You think I got it?”
Fascio stared into the empty hallway, his breath still held in his lungs for a moment before expelling it in a gust. “I don’t know. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
Vuong slapped the door latch and there was a loud groan as the large door slid to the side. Metal scraped metal, and for a moment the inside of the bay was pitch black. Then with a flicker, the overhead lights came to life and a bright illumination filled the room. They made their way in and Vuong turned to hit the panel to close the door behind him. As he did he saw the fragmented plastic and metal where someone had broken the seal from the other side in an effort to keep someone or something from getting in. “Shit,” he whispered, glancing back down the hall.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.” He paused, scanning the cargo bay. “Now where the hell’s that ship?”
Vuong turned around, pointing to a cargo hold near the back of the bay. “Should be that one.”
Fascio turned and started quickly for the door, slapping Vuong on the arm as he passed. “Come on!”
They made their way quickly through the empty bay, moving as quickly as they could. They could feel the station tensing all around them, hissing and angry, screaming through groans of metal and snapping cables. Vuong punched in the code and the door slowly opened, the seconds taking years while they waited. Sitting inside the large hold was a transport ship, slightly smaller than the one they had arrived
on, but much newer. Vuong glanced behind him, staring into the space between them and the door. Then he turned and made his way quickly to the shuttle. He pulled a cable from his holowrist and connected it with a port on the shuttle’s landing gear. Instantly the ships controls popped up in front of him. He primed the engine and lowered the outer hatch. The moment steel touched steel he was up the ramp and turning to seal the door behind them.
Don’t believe anyone. They all lie. It’s here with us, in the dark. It’s part of everything. It feeds on our death. It consumes it. It cannot escape. It’s in me.
“Whatever it was that killed the colonists, it was inside of Sarge,” Fascio said, stopping at the top of the ramp. “The note I found, it said not to believe anyone, that everyone was infected. I don’t know what it meant, but it said that it fed on their death, that it consumed it. What if we’re infected too?”
Vuong stared at him from inside the ship. He couldn’t shake the feeling as well, the cold pressure of something foreign sitting just inside his mind. But they had managed to make it the entire way to the ship, had survived, and he wasn’t going to give up now. “Look man. When we get home, we can tell them everything that happened. We’ll let them know, we’ll go through quarantine procedure or whatever else they need to give us a clean bill. But I’m not staying here. Fuck that. We can deal with it then.”
“I just don’t want anyone else to die man…”
“Me neither Fas,” Vuong replied as gently as he could, his gaze flashing to the empty space behind him. “But we will if you don’t get your ass in here and seal that hatch. Or at least one of us will, and the other will end up bringing that thing back with them, and we can’t allow that to happen. So come on man, let’s get the hell out of here!”
Fascio stood on the ramp, staring at the floor for a moment as a frigid chill moved through him. “I thought Sarge was stronger than that.”
Vuong engaged the hatch, raising the ramp and sealing the door as Fascio moved next to him. Then he moved as quickly as he could to the pilot’s station and buckled in, engaging the roof hatch and bringing the instrument panel to life. The console illuminated before him and the vid screen flashed to life, the walls of the hold filling the monitor.
“I really thought I was gonna die here,” Fascio said, taking a seat next to him. “I thought—I thought I was never going escape this planet.”
“Me neither,” Vuong said, finishing the last of the ignition sequence before engaging the thrusters and lifting the shuttle into the air. “How about we go home.”
21
The planet sat resting below, a vast ball of orange and red; motionless as the shuttle drifted in orbit. From where they sat it looked peaceful, almost calm. There was no station, no death, just an endless sea of burnt crimson spreading from one end of the horizon to the other. The air in the cabin hung heavy, a thick cloud of sadness saturated with loss. Vuong and Fascio had fallen silent the moment they lifted off, the feeling of relief refusing to surface behind the last two days of panic laced fear. The memories of their comrades wore heavy on them and both of them sat lost in an inconsolable haze. Vuong had sent a series of distress calls out and logged a detailed report of the events that had unfolded in at the station. The words, void of emotion in detail had left him drained, eyes red and puffed from pent up tears finally released. He had quieted away to a private section to allow his grief to expel. When he had finished, he made his way back to the bridge and finished plotting their course back to earth. He engaged the autopilot and leaned back in his chair as the ship corrected course and the thrusters ignited, pulling them further out of orbit and onto a course that would have them back on earth a short cryosleep away. He stared at the vid screen watching the planet slowly shrinking to a dot in the distance, then he took a deep breath and shut the view screen off, turning to look at Fascio who stared back.
“They’re gonna think we’re crazy,” Fascio said after a moment.
“Well it doesn’t help that the only proof we had was inside Talmadge’s pocket.” Vuong replied, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly at the thought of the hearings they would have to sit through upon returning, and the inquisition the board was going to host.
Vuong felt a thin chill work through him. His friend was right. They had no quarantine protocol, no tests, no way to know if either of them were infected, and with all that had happened it was easily quite so. They had no choice but to escape and hope that whatever threat it was that had slowly picked them off, had been killed in that hallway, or at least left trapped in the station.
Vuong stared at him from across the seat. “Have you heard the whispers?”
Fascio nodded. “Yeah.”
“Have you seen anything that could only have been a hallucination; no matter how much your mind tried to rationalize it?”
The little boy standing in the room flashed in his memory, but as he struggled with the picture, wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen it or imagined it. “Yeah…”
“And are you now?”
“No. Not since when we left.”
“Me neither. So since the whispering has stopped, and neither of us is trying to kill each other, I’d say it’s pretty safe to assume that we aren’t… infected… or, possessed.” He paused. “Think about it. Sarge started talking about his family as if they were still alive. He was already acting strange. You’re acting pretty normal, and I’d like to think I am too. I know I’m not seeing dead relatives, or hearing any voices telling me to kill you, or myself. I think whatever it was that was responsible, we shot it full of holes and it’s dead in that hallway, or at the least, still trapped in there. Or maybe we just had to kill whoever it was in for it to die? All I know, is we made it out of there, and we’re still alive.”
“Tch,” Fascio scoffed, turning his head to the blank space the view screen had been moments before. “Somehow I don’t think it was that easy. I mean, whatever that thing was, had been inside that pyramid for how long? Thousands of years…? No. It’s still there. They need to nuke that station from orbit and pray that even that works.” A thin ripple worked up his arms at the thought. “It wasn’t just some virus man. That thing thought, it hunted. Whatever the hell it was, had survived for who knows how long. Something like that doesn’t survive by being stupid. That thing knew exactly what it was doing.” He paused, shaking his head twice. “No. They’re gonna send another crew there, probably another squad. I just hope to god they receive our communications before they do, and that they actually listen.” Again he paused, his gaze falling to the vid-screen. “Something tells me I’m hoping for too much though…”
“There’s no way the company’s gonna blow up a trillion dollar investment like that; based off the words of a couple low payed grunts. No. They’re gonna send another squad back down there, I just hope we managed to take care of whatever that thing was. Hopefully it’s just a cleanup job.”
Vuong stood up, stretching his hands towards the ceiling. “No matter. I’m glad I won’t be there when they do.”
“Yeah,” Fascio said, rising to his feet. “Me too.”
Vuong turned and made his way to the cryo-sleep chamber. He made his way down the hall, sterile light brushing past him as he entered into the sterile room. Slowly he undressed, prepping himself for the dreamless journey, thankful for the first time that his sleep would be nothing but an unconscious black, and when he woke up, the station, the death, would be millions of miles away. He took his clothes off and climbed into the pod. Slowly he situated himself, his gaze falling from one empty pod to another against the wall. Again a deep pain pierced through him. Portofino, Corlin, Wilkes, DiLeonardo, Thomas… Each name played syllable by syllable in his mind, the accompanying voices playing softly behind. He watched as Fascio undressed, assuming the same emotions were wracking him as well. The room felt cold and lonely around them, and the sense of relief from surviving still refused to set in.
Around them the ship vibrated softly, the low thrum of the hyper drive thrust
ers hovering almost unnoticeable in the background. Vuong could feel the persisting headache beginning to fade and looked forward to it being gone when they resurrected. Stress, fatigue, panic. He knew it was going to be a while until his body managed to regulate itself again. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he reached out to engage the switch that would lower the capsule’s lid. “And yeah, I think it’s time we put in for transfer.”
“Roger that,” Fascio replied. “Roger, that.”
The lid to the capsule closed, latching shut with a soft click, a thin vapor filling the interior as the atmosphere was vented and replaced with one that slowed the body’s functions, turning seconds into sleepless weeks and dreamless, frozen months.
Across the room, Fascio looked at his friend and took a deep breath, exhaling heavily as he closed and latched the pod’s lid. He felt a shiver run through him as the lid locked into place. As the air vented a thin hiss whispered past his ear, a vapor of stale breath mixing with the slightly bitter atmosphere that filled the pod. Sleep tugged at him, pressing heavy against his eyes. He felt his breaths slowing, the gentle prickling of release as his body began its chemically induced relaxation. As he began to drift further away, the edges of his sight fading to a foggy white, his gaze moved to his friend already fast asleep across the room. He blinked slowly, his vision fading in and out, when in a single moment of focus, he saw a faint distortion next to his friend, a small ripple that shifted inside the translucent pod.
The shuttle continued on course, a silent craft, drifting through the endless void. Inside the lights had gone dark, the only systems still active the ones needed to maintain direction and sustain life still active. The room the cryopods were in was quiet, a thin layer of beeping in the air as the systems that regulated hyper-sleep and vitals ran automated. Beneath that, a series of dull thuds, almost inaudible, repeated frantically; fists pounding against the inside of the hyper-sleep chamber lid. Then the pounding slowed, and came to a stop as cryo-sleep took over and the captive marine was pulled into the dreamless black.
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