Despite the astronomical odds, he still didn’t want to leave. Max had awarded him a job on the finest team of operators in the world and entrusted command to LT in his absence. They weren’t exactly close friends, but they had enjoyed some damn good times together off duty. And you’re just going to leave him behind?
“Fine.” To LT the word stung with surrender. “We’re leaving, for now, but only because you two refused to stay and back me up.” He pointed a finger at Gable and then swept it toward Sugar. “If we’re fortunate enough to ever see Max again, I want you to tell him that. And the minute we link up with the Greytech team, we’re coming back for them.”
Gable grinned. “Don’t sweat it. Ain’t nothin’ I didn’t say before.”
Insufferable ass.
Sugar nodded. For him, at least, the decision to abandon Max was a crushing dilemma. “You know I’ll own up to it.”
LT heard it all and knew none of it meant anything. He was in command, and the ultimate decision was still his.
This will haunt you for the rest of your life.
However many hours that might be.
Max didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to think like Red. They hadn’t seen any more clues regarding Diaz’s whereabouts for some time, yet Dr. Rogers kept on walking, directing Red, Max following along as though on autopilot. Trusting her came easy, perhaps too easy, until Max likewise began to wonder how she could know the things she did. This was not the time for questions, however. She had yet to lead the team astray. Without her they’d be lost, reason enough to keep trusting her.
They strode down a gently curving hallway, the only feature an open door on the right. “Your medic will likely be through that entrance.” Dr. Rogers warned, “Be wary. This room is huge, and there are a lot of places to hide.”
Red moved to the doorway and peered inside. “Holy sci-fi,” he gasped before stepping in. He hadn’t given the room much of a once-over from outside.
Max understood when he entered. “Huge” didn’t do the room justice—cavernous was more like it, a circular space over one hundred feet in diameter, rising to a ceiling of even greater height. Elongated oval pods ringed the curved wall in neat vertical lines separated by ladders. A mini-skyscraper of identical pods connected with ladders and platforms soared upward at the center of the room to connect with the ceiling. The tower and all the pods were constructed of a metal he presumed to be titanium.
The nearest pod, large enough to fit someone human-sized, caught Max’s attention. The holographic computer panel built into the head of the pod was currently off. A window comprised half of the pod’s top hatch. Max peeked inside and found it empty, just as he’d expected.
In fact, the computer panels on all the pods were powered off, save for one. Perhaps. He couldn’t be sure. He thought he espied an orange computer glow through the center tower of pods.
Red asked, “So this is where the aliens ice their meat for the journey home?”
Dr. Rogers smiled. “I suppose they could do that, yes. The more likely explanation is that these are hibernation pods used during lengthy deep-space voyages.”
“How many are occupied?” Max asked.
Dr. Rogers hesitated. “None at present. Two aliens were definitely hibernating here, but they’ve disappeared.”
“Two?” Red asked. “There must be five hundred pods.”
Dr. Rogers shrugged. “Perhaps they were running a skeleton crew.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“You’ll see. The open pods are on the other side of the tower.”
“Let’s check them out. Red, I’ll circle right with Dr. Rogers. You and Irish, circle to the left with the survivors. Slowly, people. Those things could be anywhere in here.”
Max picked up on the blood trail and found Diaz lying broken on the floor on the other side of the tower. His neck had been snapped at the base of his skull, his left arm ripped off and discarded somewhere. He had most likely died from strangulation before the mutilation—his face bloated and blotched in various shades of purple and dried rivulets of blood ran from his bulging eyes.
Confirmed. It was the best you could hope for.
The others joined them. “Guess these things have taken a dislike to firearms,” Irish held aloft Diaz’s HK416. The creature had bent the rifle’s barrel and rendered it useless.
Max hadn’t the time to lament Diaz’s passing. “I’ll hump the medkit.” He and Red stripped it from Diaz’s body. He put the kit in his backpack and took Diaz’s remaining 5.56 ammo and magazines. “Irish, grab some ammo from Diaz’s UMP40 submachine gun for your backup weapon.”
“Check these out, Chief.” He stood a few feet away by two open pods. One of the pod computers currently functioned, the source of the orange glow. It was empty and appeared to have opened on its own. The other pod’s open glass lid was cracked and chipped around the edges.
“Forced open,” Max said. “What’s the story on these, Dr. Rogers?”
“The pods were like this when the room was discovered. The theory is that one of the pods opened whenever it was scheduled to. The other pod had been forced open by Greytech to gain access to the other alien member of the crew.”
“So, where are they?”
“One alien crew member died upon opening the pod. Greytech sent the remains to the surface for further study. We never found any other crew members. It’s quite possible the creatures have killed them by now.”
Red ran a hand along the smooth surface of the broken pod. “This shit just gets weirder and weirder.”
Again, Max tried to find the truth in Dr. Rogers’ inscrutable demeanor and cryptic answers. It might be as she claims. The ship could have crashed thousands of years ago. The aliens might have awakened, lived, and died while mankind was still holing up in caves. Or maybe Greytech woke them. He didn’t think she was outright lying, but she knew more about these aliens than she let on. But how best to extract the information from her? Did he even need to extract it? Locating two missing aliens, while fascinating as a concept, was not a part of his mission. But if they still live, their knowledge could be invaluable in defeating these things.
Max hadn’t survived as long as he had on training alone. His innate sense of danger, an atavistic alarm system that never shut off, went code-red in an instant. He spun around with his rifle raised as the creature dropped from above. It resembled the octopus creature that abducted Diaz, but it had changed its color to a titanium hue to camouflage itself amongst the pods and latticework of the central tower.
Red and Irish, no less attuned to danger, raised their weapons and fired as it dropped. The creature screeched like a keening arctic wind as it absorbed a blast from the flamethrower. Max had to hold his fire as he shoved the falling creature’s intended target, Dr. Kumar, out of harm’s way.
The burning creature transformed in midair. It hit the floor as a smoldering pile of the black substance. Then, with amazing speed and survival instincts, it flattened and rolled itself up like a carpet, extinguishing the flames. Now a barreling black cylinder, it rolled toward Max and Irish, picking up speed as it went. They poured lead into it to no avail, and Red couldn’t hit it with the flamethrower again without incinerating Max and Irish, who jumped straight into the air, each raising his feet as high as possible to clear the rolling beast. Irish caught one toe on the creature and fell forward on his face. Max cleared it, landed on his feet, and turned around.
Already the creature had morphed again, taking on a svelte bipedal form with impossibly long legs ending in curved claws and padded feet. Its elongated head resembled that of a pterodactyl, with a scissor-like beak and prominent pointed crest. It changed shades from jet black to a mottled black and gray that blended perfectly into the dimly lit room. Max and Irish fired on its retreating form, each scoring hits; yet the creature again proved its resilience by escaping. A couple of long-legged strides took it around the side of the tower and out of range. Max and Irish gave futile chase, catchi
ng one last look at the creature’s back before it ran from the round chamber.
Irish grumbled, “This nightmare is getting too familiar.”
“Yeah, but it could have been worse.” Max wasn’t even breathing heavily after the encounter. The creatures no longer inspired any awe in him, despite their ability to rip a man to shreds within moments. Now they were simply a part of his job, another enemy to be taken down, even though they had yet to kill a full-grown beast. I’ll mount one of these fuckers before this is over.
Max and Irish double-timed back to the others. Dr. Kumar lay curled up on the ground groaning. Apparently, he’d landed hard and his hip was aching. Max sighed. I really don’t need this shit right now. He filtered out Kumar’s complaints, leaving Ms. Quinones to take care of him while he addressed Dr. Rogers. “We need to move on. Has every bit of this ship been searched?”
“Not even close.”
“Good. Maybe we’ll come across some more clues on how to defeat these creatures. As it stands, we need to continue on to the armory.”
“With that blast door down we’ll have to circle around to the command center and go from there.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“The creatures can now camouflage by changing colors,” Dr. Rogers observed. “They’re learning, adapting. I find that most disconcerting.”
“Great,” Red said. “They’ll be shooting back at us before we know it.”
Max motioned to Ms. Quinones. “Get Dr. Kumar on his feet and let’s get moving.”
She shook her head. “He bruised his hip really bad, Mr. Ahlgren.”
“Even if it’s broken, you’re walking, Kumar. Red, get him on his feet.”
Kumar grunted in agony when Red pulled him up by an arm. “I can’t walk like this for long.” His eyes lost focus, as if he were ready to pass out from pain.
“You walk or you’re beast chow,” Max told him. “We can’t carry you any longer.”
As Max had expected, Kumar swallowed his pain and dug up enough fortitude to keep walking. They moved out.
Their new route to the armory took them up three decks via cramped stairwells. The air cooled as they climbed further from the reactor level.
Still on point, Red stopped to examine something he found on the wall. “Some kind of blast mark.” He rubbed at a dent surrounded by a black smudge.
“Not the creature’s doing, for sure,” Max commented.
Dr. Rogers confirmed with a nod. “You’ll see more of the same ahead.”
The second turn ahead revealed an obstruction halfway down the hall. Approaching carefully, they came upon a defensive mantlet made of the same metal and glass as the hibernation pods, complete with gun ports cut through the metal. The structure had originally spanned the hallway but had been knocked askew at some point. Black blood, desiccated and crusty, smeared the metal. More blast marks pocked the walls and floor down the hall from the barrier. Pools of dried blood splotched the floor at intervals.
“What the hell happened here?” Max asked Dr. Rogers.
“We’re not sure; we left this scene as we found it. No bodies, just the signs of a battle. We’re nearing the command center, so there are many defensive features located in this sector.”
“Aliens versus creatures?” Irish asked.
“So we think,” she replied.
“Nothing here now. Let’s keep moving,” Max mentally noted that the alien defenses resembled human fortifications.
A few minutes later they came upon a hallway, a featureless eight-by-eight chute with smooth white walls that ran about one hundred feet before ending at the bottom landing of a staircase.
“The stairs lead up to the command center,” Dr. Rogers said. “I suggest we traverse this hallway quickly.”
“Why?” Max asked.
“It serves as a last line of defense for the command center. We shouldn’t present a threat, but it reacted violently to the alien substance we tried to transport through it, and after what happened with the blast door downstairs, it would be best not to take chances.”
“Understood.” And easy enough. The hallway’s polished flat walls offered no hiding spots for the creatures. Max stepped off at a normal marching pace, eyes fixed on the stair landing far ahead.
An alarm sounded. Though Max was hard to startle, the blaring beeps were so loud and unexpected that he flinched a bit. Two more beeps sounded after a brief pause. Two beeps, pause...
“What the—Shit!” Irish yelled from the rear as he cut loose with his SCAR on the advancing creature.
A red alarm strobed on the stair landing ahead. A metal door slowly descended. They had only seconds before it blocked off the hallway and sealed them inside.
Max turned around. The rounds popping from Irish’s rifle stung his eardrums like whip cracks. Ms. Quinones, screaming, tried to haul Dr. Kumar past Max, who could see little of the creature Irish was battling. He couldn’t fire on it effectively with Irish blocking the hallway. He felt someone tugging his arm.
“Run!” Dr. Rogers screamed, trying to haul Max down the hallway. “We can’t be sealed in here!”
“Irish, fall back!” Max ordered.
Irish continued firing.
“Now!” Dr. Rogers again tried to drag Max, who didn’t resist any longer.
“We can’t leave him!” Red shouted.
“No choice! Move it!” Max yelled.
Ms. Quinones squeezed past him and fled in a panic.
Dr. Kumar lay floundering on the floor, unable to gain his feet. Max ran the few feet to Dr. Kumar, grabbed him by the waistband, and ran for the stair landing, dragging the good professor along behind.
Irish ran out of ammo a moment later. Max heard him grunt as he fell beneath the creature, unable to switch weapons quick enough to hold it off.
Ahead the door continued to drop. Four more feet and it would seal them in the hallway. The creature screeched in pain. Max kept running. Red slid under the door first, squeezing by with about three feet to go. Dr. Rogers and Quinones were next.
Dr. Kumar howled in terrific pain as Max dragged him along. Two feet of rapidly disappearing space separated him from safety on the landing. He tossed his rifle under the door and then slid through. One more foot until the hallway sealed. Max heard Irish grunt, and the creature squealed in agony. His guns silent, Irish now fought hand-to-hand.
Reaching back for Dr. Kumar, Max found his wrist and jerked him under the door with barely an inch to spare. The portal closed off the moment Kumar passed through.
Max jumped to his feet. The door had a window, and he peered into the hallway. Every piece of metal Irish carried began to pop and spark. He dropped his fighting knife, but he no longer needed it—the creature had disengaged while running for the far exit. Irish began stripping the metal objects from his body. His grenades went first; he tossed them down the hallway after the creature. He didn’t have time enough to pull the pins. Sparks danced all over his body from conductor to conductor. The UMP40 strapped across his back fired once into the ceiling. Irish dropped first his empty FN SCAR assault rifle and then his UMP40. The latter fired on its own, pointed down the hallway toward the retreating beast. The rest of his loaded magazines went off a moment later like so many strings of firecrackers. He took superficial damage from a couple of the bullets as he hurled the popping mags down the hallway.
The creature morphed rapidly into another hideous form, shell-clad with armored limbs, an inappropriate defense and likely the only one its primal mind could devise under the circumstances. It wasn’t working. The beast began to smoke as bubbling lesions appeared on its body. It screeched as its shell dissolved.
Microwaves, Max realized. He grabbed Dr. Rogers by the shoulders and shook her. “Disable it, now!”
“Impossible! It can’t be disabled from here.”
The lack of a holographic door control told him she was right. Max threw her aside.
Irish thudded into the door, put his face to the window, and yelled words Max co
uldn’t make out. His skin bubbled and melted. Sparking electricity from the few pieces of metal remaining on his body ignited his clothing. He desperately pounded the window with his fists, leaving smears of viscous flesh behind on the glass. Boiling blood poured from his nose. His right eyeball popped in its socket, splattering the glass with red blood.
Max could watch no more. He threw down his backpack and grabbed two breaching charges from within.
An explosion rocked the hallway, followed by five more in rapid succession: McKern’s discarded grenades exploding.
Max looked up right as Irish exploded into hundreds of tiny, bloody fragments that blacked out the viewing window. He turned away and clenched his body in rage and let out a thunderous yell from the depth of his soul. “God fucking damn it!”
Max stood there, the breaching charges in his hands now pointless. The sealed hallway had served its purpose, to kill all living things trapped inside. Max heard another loud pop from the hallway, though much fainter in magnitude. He couldn’t look through the glass, not that he needed to. The creature had exploded.
Red stared blankly at the window, as if his mind was a thousand miles away.
“I am sorry,” Dr. Rogers said.
Max looked up at her, anger still in his eyes. “Sorry isn’t going to bring him back. Lead the way...doctor.”
A seasoned combat leader never doubted in his ability to accomplish a mission, at least never in front of his men. Max wasn’t about to do so now in front of his remaining man. Not that it would matter. Despite his sarcastic nature, Red was a pragmatist, and he knew as well as Max did that they were doomed. It was only a matter of time.
* * *
Sugar knew he’d lost his edge. Distraction killed; it was really that simple. And Sugar found his mind wandering from their new objective—get the fuck off the ship ASAP—to Max Ahlgren.
He’d met Max in Afghanistan years before when he’d still been in the SEAL teams, and they’d paired up on several joint special ops missions against Taliban insurgents. They worked brilliantly together. Max was a masterful tactician; Sugar possessed killer instincts learned on the streets of Compton and honed to perfection during his time in the Navy. He hadn’t thought twice about joining Max’s team upon his retirement.
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