by Inc. HDWP
The room buzzed again. He went to speak and paused to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.
"Come... in," he groaned.
The captain stepped in and made a sound as if he was surprised at what he saw. He took a step in and waited.
"Sir," Sam's scratchy voice said. He coughed a moment later, clearing his throat.
"You okay, Lieutenant?"
Sam went to answer and stopped. Despair interrupted his answer as his eyes adjusted to the light coming in from the hall. The captain's uniform was half unzipped revealing a stained and faded black t-shirt. Medium-length hair normally neat was a raggedy mess. The Captain looked as disheveled as Sam felt. Worse, Sam could tell his leader's aura instilling a contagious confidence was nowhere to be found. McDowell was more man than captain.
"You can stop staring now, Sam."
Sam shook himself out of the gaze and composed himself back into the Horizon officer position he still held.
"Sorry sir," Sam said. He had made it to his feet and did his best to stand at attention, even through the sleep depravation. Given how deeply the need to sleep continued to flow through him, Sam guessed he couldn't have been out for long.
Sam tapped the desk praying it had found something on its own. This was no time to come up empty-handed. Relief washed over him when a lengthy results pane appeared.
"I have preliminary results, Captain."
"Continue, but for god sakes, Sam, relax. We're in need of good ideas, not spending energy on pomp and circumstance."
McDowell managed to let a smile surface through his layers of worry and it instantly boosted Sam's mood.
The man I know is still in there.
"It's not good," Sam said scanning the data. "Whatever this purple haze is, it's intelligent enough to know how to take out the Horizon in the most efficient way possible. The ship usually compensates for power problems, but this thing attacks in a way to ensure those adjustments never happen. Then there's the crew its attacked."
Sam paused and McDowell closed his eyes for a moment.
"You saw the medical records on the tablet?" the Captain asked.
The pit in Sam's stomach returned. "Yes. The causes of death for everyone are all retroactive as if they never served on board." His conclusions seemed so impossible, yet without another solution even remotely entering the equation, this was the only thing that made sense.
"I don't know how or why, but that damn thing is slowly killing my ship and screwing with the past of my crew," McDowell pounded a fist on the glass desktop. "I've had enough of this. We are done with analysis." The Captain walked around the desk and fingered the surface off. "Things change right now. This haze wants to take over? We're not letting it happen."
"Sir?"
"I haven't been idly sitting around while you were in here, Sam. I've had the ship's computer running tests on the energy output of this thing. I think I found a solution, but there isn't enough time to build a computer model. A field test will have to do."
Tingles of excitement raced through Sam when the captain next spoke.
"This thing looks like a haze or a cloud. Small particles swarming within it, but I found thousands of tiny energy signatures. Arris energy, to be exact."
"Oh my god. Can we still get there?"
"I've already checked the ship's systems. Junction A is still open for us to enter."
Sam was already out the door before McDowell finished. Normally a short walk, the armory now seemed a lightyear away.
* * *
Normally designed for short-term work by engineering crew, the Horizon's access ducts were now the main lifeline for her remaining inhabitants. Sam grunted and winced while crawling through the hard metal tubing. Years of wear had caused the tube to crack and splinter, leaving razor-sharp edges everywhere. Without the necessary workman suits, Sam and the trailing captain left a small trace of dotted blood in their wake. Within the tubes, aquamarine domes had been embedded into the top and lit the maze pretty well. Sam was somewhat refreshed from the quick nap and between that and his fully-healed leg the pair reached Junction D in only twenty minutes.
Sam hadn't been within the bowels of the Horizon for years. Tube assignment was grunt work for recruits and crew on disciplinary detail. Aside from two shifts from when he first came on board, Sam was happy McDowell spared him from the assignment. People could talk behind his back all they wanted as long as it spared destroying his knees.
The tube ended opening to a wide circular junction with more tubes. Six other routes emptied here, each bearing a letter indicating the next junction in which it lead. Small rungs were bolted onto the wall leading six feet down to the deck's access door. Sam swung out of their tube and descended, a sweaty McDowell just above him seconds later. They dropped the final two rungs and Sam was again thankful the last time he was here was as a recruit getting system readings off an access panel.
McDowell brushed the dust off his uniform and took the lead. "This way," he said not caring that everyone on the ship knew where the armory was.
Sam ran up to the door and it emitted a loud thunk as McDowell entered the correct code on the keypad. Seconds later they were in and raiding the closet of pulse rifles.
"And you're sure that it was Arris energy," Sam said more than asked.
"No doubt about it. It's the exact opposite of what our weapons use," McDowell said strapping a second and then a third rifle over his shoulder.
"Seems that cargo from Cogan was pretty convenient for us," Sam smiled.
The lieutenant grabbed a rifle and remembered the arms dealer who hired them for the one-off haul. No names, no manifests, just get the weapons from point A to point B. He paid triple and they could take a hundred rifles to help fortify the ship's defenses. The crew had been shocked by the acceptance from the squeaky-clean McDowell, but only Sam knew they'd been stiffed on two hauls in four months and the crew's shares came right out of the Captain's pocket. The dealer paid up-front and saying 'no' would bankrupt the ship.
McDowell cocked back the power cell engaging rod locking it into place. A firm and loud click rang out letting everyone know the weapon was ready to fire. The weapons were Bend 652 Turris Defense rifles. Arris and Turris energy were opposing pairs of the same frequencies. A powerful cell was required to generate Turris energy, but its repelling field was perfect for a weapon. As expected, Arris energy had a base attraction about it that was near-impossible to break up. That was unless Turris energy was around. Even the best tractor beams were sliced like butter from a single Turris pulse.
"Take three," the Captain said shoving another rifle into Sam's chest.
Sam gave a confused look. A third rifle was overkill given he could only fire one at a time. Even so, he heeded the not-quite-an-order and grabbed the weapon.
"No telling how long the power cells will last in these."
"Good point. We haven't exactly had a chance to use them."
"Ready? Let's head out."
The captain headed for the door but Sam grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.
"Sir. Shouldn't we get more of the remaining crew down here? We could use all the help we can get."
The captain spun around, his face hard like stone. "We're it." McDowell scowled.
Sam could feel the room spinning. He grabbed the wall as the blood rushed out of his head. He could swear the ship was decompressing. "What? Where... where is the crew?"
"Dead." His voice was flat and devoid of emotion. "Happened on the bridge," McDowell said anticipating the question. "I left to get coffee and when I came back ten minutes later they were all dead at their stations. It hit 'em quick. Everyone was still in their chairs."
Sam gripped the wall tight and pulled at his collar. It was the only way he could be convinced someone wasn't choking him. "I... I can't believe that, sir."
McDowell tapped the barrel of the rifle to make his point. "That's why it ends right here and now. These sons of bitches think they can get onto my ship and take us
down? Whatever it is, it has another thing coming." McDowell wrangled away from Sam's pain-filled gaze and rounded out the door, leaving Sam in the shadows of the raided armory.
Sam's eyes were glued shut in anguish as a stream of tears fell down his cheeks and pooled onto the deck. Too many crew mates had been lost to something so senseless. Flashes of his last moments of Ivish kicked him further like a boxer hitting the ropes after a flurry of punches. Everyone on Ivish was dead and gone. Now Sophia and the rest of the Horizon's hands would join his sister, parents, and everyone else who didn't beat the impossible odds of escaping the planet.
"You coming?" Sam heard the captain calling. The rifle rubbed against his fingertips and was solid in his hands. Powerful and willing to do anything he commanded. A rifle that by insane chances happened to be the type he needed to fight an unbeatable haze. Each groove in the machined plastic housing injected thousands of minuscule shots of energy into his body with each barrel rotation. Like a generator, Sam stood and cleared his head as he fingered the weapon.
"If only Sophia and the rest had this," he whispered to the rifle. Sam counted to three, exhaled and opened his eyes. The room was clear and his eyes were devoid of tears. It was time. "Coming, sir," Sam said before letting his newfound energy explode within him. Sam darted out to finish what the purple haze had started.
* * *
Each step Sam Martell took on the Horizon's deck reverberated through his body, sending a shock of energy into his next step. Momentum and pure adrenaline carried him the length of the ship as he followed the captain past each obstacle of the dying craft. The pair had moved two decks down when McDowell crouched like he spotted something. Sam took cover, but temptation was too strong as he slowly lifted his head up to get a peek of the situation. He couldn't see anything within the Horizon's disheveled engineering section.
"Why'd we stop?" Sam whispered.
The captain moved in close. "It's around the far corner." McDowell pointed left, the obvious gesture accentuated the comment.
Sam peeked out again and ducked back down. "How do you know that? There's nothing there."
"Modified diagnostic tool," McDowell said lifting a small grey plastic box out of his pocket. The box was as standard as a screwdriver for the engineering crew, which did everything from take power readings, to giving information of the ship's inventory of spare parts, to playing classic card games people coded up in their spare time.
"Nice," Sam smiled. "Our very own Haze Detector. So, now what?"
McDowell looked around the corner with the smallest of inches of his face exposed to the enemy. It's safe to say we only get one shot at this."
"Agreed."
"I don't know how many shot it'll take to kill this thing, but our asses are going out there and we keep firing until it's gone."
Sam nodded and inched into McDowell's spot to see the haze around the bend. The cloud had grown in size since the initial reports, measuring at least ten feet around. Within the haze Sam could see it was comprised of thousands of tiny particles all whizzing around like the nucleus of an atom. The wide-open space of Engineering meant there was no place to hide once they turned the corner. It would be an open firefight, their rifle's power and accuracy against the haze's speed. One way or another this would be over quick.
* * *
"It's on the move," McDowell whispered.
"High One protect us," Sam muttered for the first time in decades.
The Captain reassured his grip around the rifles in each hand and nodded to the Lieutenant. Sam flexed his fingers and before he could process what was about to happen, the pair stepped out into the open corridor. Sam's eyes locked onto the cloud of purple particles hovering high in the air. The haze wasn't held together in one set shape, but more joined together tightly with the arris energy shooting about within. Sam planted his feet, lifted each rifle and fingered both triggers.
Time seemed to nearly halt as Sam glanced to his right where the captain stood, dual rifles shooting out turris blast after turris blast. Streams of energy bursts were bright and elongated in the slowed time. Sam could almost make out the thousands of energy strands comprising the singular shot. Two shots whizzed by the cloud, searing a bulkhead along the deck's ceiling. Red hot sparks sizzled out as the impacted area disintegrated. They fell to the decking with grace as the artificial gravity pulled them down with ease. Two more shots rang out of McDowell's rifles simultaneously as Sam's fingers released the triggers from his first shots. Another pull and release. Pull and release. It was only when the haze cloud stopped moving and reversed towards them that Sam realized it had been gliding away when they initially fired.
Each shot aside from the first two were dead-on and Sam looked after each blinding blast to inspect the damage. None was to be found. Another rifle shot from the Captain revealed the haze pulling itself inward and morphing on the fly to avoid the deadly energy pulses. Craters formed and disappeared in a flash, even within slowed time. Sam timed his next shots to immediately follow McDowell's but the cloud hollowed out its center to form a ring. The empty space was perfectly aligned for the oncoming two shots and they easily flew through, destroying more of the engineering section.
Sam blinked and time fell back into its normal rhythm when McDowell yelled, "Set rifle to full--" The remainder of the command was silenced as the cloud darted forward and pounced on him. A helmet of haze was drowning the captain in the blink of an eye. He hit the deck with a lifeless thud, like a sack of laundry thrown off one's shoulder. Sam only had enough time to gasp and let off one more easily-avoided energy blast before his vision was filled by the most vibrant purple hue. He remained conscious enough to feel his legs give out.
* * *
Sam gasped as he sat up.
Did I slam my head against the deck?
He felt all around his hair and found no blood or soreness. He spun, getting to his feet and realized he was in an empty room. An office. The white walls were shaded with a mustard hue, the dead giveaway of his location: Ivish.
More calmly Sam looked in all directions, working a 360-degree view into his mind. Bare wall after bare wall greeted him until he reached the fourth which was a floor-to-ceiling window. The walls were far enough away for him to realize he was standing in the center of the large room that stretched all the way out to each side of the exterior of the building. His feet tapped along the concrete floor splotched with paint and other dried building materials meant to be covered up by luxurious carpet at some point. The dense yellow outside the window hung over the room like an ominous enemy at the gates. Martell Tower was designed with four-inch thick glass to repel the toxic atmosphere, but it didn't stop butterflies from fluttering in Sam's stomach each time he'd seen the cloud through the crystal clear window. He moved a few steps closer to get a better look. It had been four long years since he'd been up close and personal with the sulfur. Four long years since he'd been safe from it by more of his father's designs. Four long years since it all literally came crashing down, eliminating the entire planet in one fell swoop.
Three more steps toward the glass, then four. Sam paused. Was the cloud different than normal? Five, six, seven steps closer. A shot of nervous cold pierced his spine. He could see the sulfur moving. Wisps of the cloud curled and danced within itself, elegant and graceful.
Sam let out a gasp that echoed through the empty space. The cloud never moved, at least not in any noticeable way by a person on the surface. He stepped forward once more and his fear was confirmed. The sulfur wove around the building at a speed Ivish had never seen before. It moved exactly like the day the planet died.
Sam's eyes darted right as he recalled that fateful day. His mind filled with screams of terror and shreds of chaos filling every street and building within the city. Pushing. Shoving. Trampling. The pandemonium was unsurpassed. There was still time. Sam knew he had to get out of there.
"The docks," he said aloud and sprinted to the staircase.
Sam was already half a flight down
when it occurred to him that he hadn't even looked to see where the exit was. His body was running on pure muscle memory. Questions about which way to go entered his mind, but Sam dismissed them equally as fast.
Better to run on instinct than anything else.
His feet slammed onto the landing, Sam having taken two, three, four steps at a time. They were more like leaps than descending an industrial staircase. He whizzed by the painted "6" that indicated which floor he was on and jumped further down to make his escape. Each crash of his feet into the steel coughed up another memory about the day.
Slam. The walk to the building.
Slam. Hoping to run into the woman in the first desk on the ground floor office.
Slam. Inspecting a vacant office for the impending tenant.
Slam. Trying to call his father and not being able to get through.
Slam. Fear as tiny whispers of screams made their way up to the sixth floor and into his ears.
Sam's practically threw his body onto the final landing, sending a heavy blow into his chest as the dispersed energy painfully raged through him. A look left then right, showed the building's exit dead ahead beckoning him to leave. He ran out so fast his body nearly fell into the oncoming traffic as frantic drivers willed their vehicles away from the danger.
Outside the sulfur was thick and tickled his throat the second he took a subconscious breath. It was thick and gritty in his throat. Through a coughing fit, he managed to lift his head back enough to look at the sky and the cloud. It had descended and was lowering itself at a visible pace. The pillow of safe air was quickly deteriorating as the sulfur ceiling drew close. Thought escaped Sam as he tried to remember the cloud's position compared to where it was when he exited the building that day so many years ago. Today it was much lower.
"Son of a bitch," Sam muttered over the sounds of crashing cars. "So this is how you do it. This is how you're gonna screw me." He'd give anything for the purple haze so far away in distance and time to hear him right now.
He wondered if it could be a dream, but this was too real. The burning in his chest, the primal screams of people on the street. No dream could do that. No dream could hurl him four years back with such precision to his senses.
