by Caleb Selby
Not knowing what else to do, and not having the time to come up with a better plan, Darion took the lydeg pistol he had managed to grab and took aim at the tube wall. The pod was only a few feet away. He fired as fast he could pull the trigger, covering his face the best he could to stop the shards of composite tubing material from striking him. When he was done, a gaping hole stood where the tube track and inner tube wall had formally been.
The pod came right up to the edge of the hole and ignited its engines. Darion turned his face to shield it from the heat and for a brief moment, feared that the pod’s thrusters would propel it over the chasm that he had created; but, as he had hoped, the pod spilled over the rift between the two sections and went crashing down deep into the bowels of the station.
Darion peered down and watched as the wayward pod crashed into a dozen of Larep’s largest transportation lines. He smiled in surreal amusement as he watched the pod burst into flames as it finally crashed into the station’s main floor, causing still more transport tubes to collapse.
“I’m doing more damage than the stinking Krohns,” he said and shook his head. “Hope nobody finds out this was me!”
A maintenance access door located near the central crane caught Darion’s eye and after carefully navigating around the gaping hole in the tube, he ran to it. He was relieved to find it unlocked and pulled with all his might on the rusty lever that opened it. After a long battle with the hatch and two shots from his pistol, it finally gave way, revealing a long and filthy ladder that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Dust, cobwebs and rodent droppings caked each rung. He tried not to think about the grime as he firmly grabbed hold of the handles and began his long descent.
He climbed down the seemingly never-ending ladder until at last, he reached an access point on what he assumed was the ground floor. He was exhausted and panting for breath when he hit the bottom, and was in no condition to fight. As his boots moved along the base of the ladder, he was disturbed at the sound of shrill squeals and tiny scampering feet. He looked down and could barely make out the shapes of tiny creatures running everywhere in a mad frenzy trying to get away from their mysterious visitor. He ignored them and went for the huge metal doorway a few feet beyond.
A large bar crossed the door with a turn-wheel fastened to it in the center. Fortunately, the turn-wheel was noticeably missing the giant padlock that often accompanied the manually operated blast doors which was a relief to Darion. He grabbed hold of the wheel and gave it a slight turn, only to be impeded by hinges so rusty that the bolts cracked and rained down to the floor in large flakes of rust. With several more hushed grumblings, he attacked the door again and turned at the wheel with all of his might but stopped short after a tremendously loud screeching noise made Darion freeze. He stopped pulling at the door, drew out his pistol and backed to the wall of the shaft and waited. His gun was facing the door and he struggled to listen to any commotion that would give him a hint of impending danger. The only sounds he could hear were those of his pounding heart and his rapid breathing, which alone broke the monotony of otherwise uneasy silence.
After several uneventful minutes, he gathered enough courage to try the door again. Another loud screech followed but he pressed on until the door was opened just wide enough for him to squeeze through. He poked his head out first, half expecting to see the hallways swarming with patrols.
Alas, the hallways were empty, much to his immediate relief; but adding to his fast growing paranoia that he was being lured into a trap by some Krohns hungry for his flesh. Even if they were waiting for him, it didn’t really matter. He could second guess himself all day everyday for an entire month and make no progress, a luxury he did not have. He swallowed hard, gripped his pistol firmly, and squeezed out into the hall as quietly as he could.
Before the invasion, a typical day in Larep would have seen the station floors packed with tens of thousands of Larep citizens using the pod network to get to anywhere in the city; but not tonight. Tonight, the station was empty; empty and cold as a tomb. Papers, assorted trash, discarded luggage, and even a few ravaged bodies cluttered the halls, stairs, and escalators of what some had called the very heart of the Namuh civilization.
Darion vigilantly walked around the discarded objects as silently and quickly as he could. Large dish chandeliers hung majestically from the ceilings of every level dispelling all shadows that Darion desperately coveted to dart in and out of. But the lack of shadows also took away hiding spots for Krohn snipers and sentries to lurk in, giving Darion a little more confidence as he made his way through the station.
The painstakingly slow trek was finally relieved when he came into the main hallway of the station. It was bordered on both sides by rows of large shimmering pillars that flanked a marble walkway. Darion used the pillars to his advantage, quickly darting between them, to make better time toward his objective.
He was nearly out of the main hall when he heard a faint noise from a level above. He glanced up and saw a group of Krohns, at least six strong, casually walking down the hall one level up. Their tails swept back in forth in a carefree manner as they talked in low hisses.
He waited until they were out of sight before dashing across the hallway toward the terminal housing the Clear Skies Research Center transportation tube. After getting lost twice in the confusing and ever winding terminal, Darion finally located the atrium for the research center’s track. He jumped over the vacant security station and approached the waiting area near the entranceway. Unlike the functional waiting areas near most of other gates, this one was more like a comfortable lounge. Plush couches lined the walls with drink coolers and snack bars beside them. Multiple viewing screens were scattered around the room and several large, odd looking artistic pieces occupied the center, flanked by an assortment of exotic plants badly in need of water.
Using his knife, Darion pried into one of the coolers and helped himself to a bottled water and package of stale crackers. He wolfed down the unsatisfying meal and made his way past the couches toward the transport tube entrance. He was nearly there when he heard something coming down the hall. He leaped behind one of the couches and laid as flat as he possibly could, his pistol clutched tightly in one hand and the small ring adapter in his other, ready to attach it if needed.
The noise grew louder as it came down the hall, and around the corner. He wasn’t sure what it was but he was taking no chances. He was lying still and quiet when several very loud screeches sounded out nearby. Darion closed his eyes in excruciating pain at the intensity of the sound. As it stopped, he slowly opened his eyes and peered beneath the couch expecting to see several very large Krohn talons but instead, saw nothing. He didn’t like not being able to see his enemy and was about to creep forward to get a better view when he saw several pairs of stylish dress shoes come into view.
Darion curiously watched as the shoes walked toward his position, totally carefree, seemingly oblivious to the loud Krohn screams just let out. He considered revealing himself to the strangers for a brief second but immediately dismissed the idea when he saw a pair of Krohn talons, followed by its deadly tail, come along side. Much to Darion’s surprise, neither the shoes nor the talons moved in response to the other’s presence. Two more sets of Krohn talons, each from different directions, then joined the group. Still nobody moved. Several clicks and hisses could be heard, this time much softer.
“What do you mean he’s not down there?” the voice of Armid could be heard, followed by several rapid clicks and hisses.
“I don’t care what your excuses are! You find him and kill him! Understand?” another familiar voice answered, followed by another set of hisses and clicks in response.
“I said I don’t care! You can eat him, or cut him up in tiny pieces and paint the floor red with his blood! I truly don’t care. Just kill him! Got it?” barked Armid.
Several more hisses and clicks went up as the Krohns began to talk t
ogether in apparent protest.
“Well, he wouldn’t have destroyed those transport lines if you clumsy idiots were doing your jobs!” the other voice screamed. “Now get out of here! I’m tired of looking at your ugly, stupid faces!”
The talons quickly scattered in different directions, leaving the shoes alone. Darion lay there as quietly as he could. His breathing stopped, and if he could have controlled it, he would have stopped his heart too.
All but two of the pairs of shoes, including those Darion had guessed were Armid’s, then turned and walked past the couch toward the transport tube door. The other two pairs held back and took a step closer together before they began speaking in hushed tones.
“Defuria has the Origin Codex!” the familiar, but unidentified voice spoke again. “I saw him take it from one of our comrades and then kill him! He is going to cut us out of our Grimsin shares!”
“Such talk against our High Leader is treason! Even mentioning it is a punishable offense!” the other responded in a voice that Darion did not recognize at all.
“He cannot be trusted!” the other implored.
“If we don’t trust him how will any of us get the Grimsin? He is our key!”
“He has made himself the key! But I tell you he is not! We can do this alone, without him and his twisted ideas of partnerships!”
“He was elected by counsel,” the other protested. “We all chose him as leader, including you!”
“He was elected out of fear!” the familiar sounding one retorted. “No one dares oppose him for none can compete with such power! And just imagine what will happen if he manages to take another Grimsin Tree alone? We will no longer have anything of value left to offer him! He will kill us all!”
The other pair of shoes took a step away. “I’ve heard enough. I’m going to tell the others what you have said and we’ll deal with you the way our kind deals with traitors.”
“I’m trying to help you!” the one implored. “Don’t do this! Please, let us talk about this, for our people’s sake!”
“I’m trying to help myself!” the other answered and continued to walk away. “You are going to regret this!”
“I don’t think so,” the familiar one said, apparently reaching for the other.
“Do not lay your hands on me!” the other shouted in anger and for a brief moment the dress shoes and pants skipped from view and in their place sat a pile of mighty, squirming tentacles.
Darion had barely been able to process the confusing scene when the feet reappeared, but only for a moment. The other figure with the familiar voice then dove at the other, bringing him to the ground with a loud crash. The Namuh appearance of both instantly shed, but not before Darion noticed that one of the figures was none other then Senator Trivis, the possessor of the familiar voice.
The two fought fiercely on the floor for several moments before Trivis got the upper hand and forced his opponent’s head to the ground, his face falling directly in line with Darion peering beneath the couch. The hideous creature looked at Darion with, glowing, unblinking eyes in complete perplexity as Trivis slowly wrapped his own tentacles around his neck and held them firmly, all the while tightening. The eyes never left Darion’s until they slowly closed in death.
Trivis’ Namuh image reappeared a moment later and he stood to his feet.
“You two coming?” Armid’s voice sounded from the pod entrance. “We need to get going.”
Trivis took a step toward Armid. “Villard said he was going to check a Krohn troop position. Said he would catch up with us tonight,” Trivis answered and the two walked together out of sight.
Darion snuck out from behind the couch and glanced out into the hallway for the Krohn scouts; nothing in sight. He peered at the body of the fallen monster for just a moment before running over to the open pod door just in time to see the last figure disappear down the ramp and into the pod. Darion glanced back behind him and then peered again down the ramp.
Suddenly, a large circular door at the ramp entrance started to roll into place. Whether it was sheer stupidity, tremendous valor, or a little bit of both that made him do it, he didn’t know, but Darion dove onto the loading ramp just as the door closed behind him.
He quickly got to his feet and ran toward the pod’s open hatch entrance as quietly as he could. He was just about to peek into the pod when the engines came to life giving off a low, pulsating roar and causing the pod’s hatch to lower.
Riding the same impulsive and irrational motivating factors that made him jump onto the ramp, Darion quickly ducked under the lowering hatch and darted into the pod. He slid into a back row of seats just as the hatch closed and sealed tightly behind him. He pulled out his lydeg and carefully fixed the adapter to the muzzle and held it close to his body as he caught his breath and attempted to reign in his raging nerves.
After a few uneventful minutes, Darion relaxed enough to take in his surroundings. The transport pod was much larger and infinitely nicer than the trash pod he had come to the station in, although to be fair, the trash pod had not been filled with alien invaders bent on destroying his people. Long glass serving tables were in front of each row of seats and thermal reducers filled with cold drinks and refreshments were built into the backs. Data pads were installed into the right arm of every chair and a personal climate control adjuster in the left armrests.
As Darion peeked though the pod, he was relieved to see that the entire group was, without exception, sitting near the front of the pod pouring drinks and tinkering with the climate control options.
As the craft slowly began to move away from the bay, Darion remembered how the trash pod had fallen and destroyed several of the transport lines in the station. He hadn’t even thought that this tube could be one of the damaged ones until now. He peered out the window to assess his plight, if any. As the vehicle slowly coasted deeper into the station’s twisting and ever winding bowels, Darion was relieved to see several smoking wrecked tubes on the opposite side of the station, far away from the track he was on. He was safe, for now.
As the pod approached the exit point from the station, Darion noticed all the windows suddenly activate their dimmers making the pod uncomfortably dark. Such an act was not necessarily all that unusual except for the fact that the overhead lamps were not turned on in lieu of the natural light, relegating the trip to an awkward darkness.
Darion didn’t dwell on the oddity further as the pod sped through Larep on its way out of the city. Under tunnels, over wastelands, through dunes and around buildings they went. Armid, Trivis and their other companions were chattering away in the darkness but Darion was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying. He managed to pick up something about a tree repeated several times and something else about fruit. What he heard didn’t make sense and after awhile he gave up and just watched the city pass before his eyes. Occasionally, he would see a group of Krohns out on patrol throughout the city. Even though the pod was going far too fast for them to see him, he would still duck low in his seat until they were out of sight.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the distant hills when the pod finally reached the Research Center. Darion had dozed off more than once on the trip but he became instantly alert as he felt the pod decelerate. He looked out his window and saw the large grayish building sharply contrasted against the morning sky. It was sixteen levels high with very long, non-decorative windows spanning almost the entire height. Large light generators were positioned at regular intervals along the top of the building and hung over the sides giving off a great deal of light and taking away any artistic look the building could have otherwise had. The words, ‘CLEAR SKIES RESEARCH CENTER,’ were deeply engraved into the front façade of the building, and directly beneath the motto read, ‘THROUGH CONTINUED RESEARCH, WE ARE SAFE.’
The front of the building was the only part of the building that hinted that anyone cared how the facility
looked. A beautifully designed staircase led to the main veranda on which rested two rows of tremendous pillars that spanned the entire sixteen levels of the facility and held up the façade. Scattered everywhere in the front courtyard of the building were statues and monuments of scientists long passed that had contributed some now-forgotten discovery to the Namuh repository of knowledge. The rest of the building looked like nothing more than a tremendously huge warehouse, which is essentially all the facility was.
The deadened building which was once, not that long ago, a hub of activity and commotion, made Darion think of Professor Jabel and from there, to Reesa and her own challenging task that lay ahead of her. He hoped she was ok.
Darion tried in vain to identify Armid and Trivis’s other companions as they made their way out of the pod, each overlooking the stowaway wedged tightly between the back rows. They descended the set of stairs that serviced the pod and much to Darion’s curiosity, each opened of all things, an umbrella. Each figure then began walking toward the building, using the umbrellas to shield them from the bright morning sun. With curiosity peeked, Darion cautiously crept from his hiding place and followed, keeping a healthy distance between them while using the scattered statues and monuments as cover.
