In Perpetuity

by Jake Bible

  “I’m not going for a coordinated attack, London,” Valencio said. “I know the limitations of what we are working with. I’m hoping to have directed, destructive chaos. If we can slow the armada down then that may give the Perpetuity some time.”

  “Time for what?” London asked. “I hate to break it to you, boss, but I don’t think the Perpetuity needs time. I think it needs sanity. If it’s anything like that Mars platform then we are going to die to protect a bunch of folks that have lost their minds.”

  “We do our jobs and we die with honor,” Valencio said. “Not much more we can ask for.”

  “I’d like to ask to live, please!” London exclaimed. “Can that be noted officially? I’d really rather I lived with honor than died with honor. Just saying.”

  Forty-Six

  North jammed the pistol up under the cadet’s chin and pulled the trigger. A spray of blood, bone, and brains covered his face as he tossed the body to the side then aimed at the next cadet that was rushing towards him. North pulled the trigger, but the pistol clicked empty as it emitted a small whine and powered down.

  “Fuck,” North said as he threw the pistol at the cadet, nailing the young woman between the eyes. She stumbled back, but didn’t lose her footing and just came at North even faster. “Double fuck.”

  The young woman reached North and threw a left hook. North blocked it with his right arm and cracked her across the face with his left fist. The cadet’s head rocked to the side, but she recovered and threw a hard kick at North’s groin. Blocking it with both hands in a cross, North lunged forward and slammed his forehead against the woman’s face, crushing her nose.

  That time the cadet did get knocked off balance and North dropped to the floor and swept her legs out from under her. As she fell, he grabbed her neck and helped gravity slam her to the floor. The back of her head exploded against the metal, sending shards of skull shooting this way and that with chunks of brain spilling everywhere.

  “North!” Linklater yelled as he tried to use a fire extinguisher to fend off two cadets coming at him. “North!”

  “Hey!” North yelled as he jumped up and rushed the cadets. “Over here!”

  One of the cadets turned in time to see North’s boot flying at his jaw. He cried out as the bottom half of his face was nearly torn free, sending him spinning down to the floor. North stomped hard, crushing the young man’s windpipe then threw his shoulder into the side of the second cadet, sending both of them to the corridor floor.

  North found two very strong hands around his neck as he tried to roll free of the cadet.

  “Extinguisher,” North choked as he boxed the cadet’s ears to no avail. “Link…”

  “Right!” Linklater yelled as he brought the fire extinguisher down on the back of the cadet’s head.

  North shoved the cadet off of him then sent an elbow into the young man’s temple. The cadet’s dilated eyes rolled up into his head as the life left his body.

  “Makers,” Linklater said. “They wouldn’t stop.”

  “More coming,” North said as the sound of quite a few boots on metal echoed down the corridor.

  “Where are we heading?” Linklater said.

  “To get the medal,” North said. “Metzger took it off me. It’s either in security or on Metzger still. We find that then get you back into your server tower shaft.”

  “Looking forward to that,” Linklater said. “Remind me to grab a spare uniform.”

  “Why?” North asked.

  “Well, long story, but there’s a good reason,” Linklater started. “You know that uniform—”

  He didn’t finish as a plasma bolt hit the wall right by his head.

  “Hey, boys!” Metzger yelled. “There ya are! Miss me?”

  “Does he have to be such an ass?” Linklater grumbled as he and North took off running again.

  “Where ya going, boys?” Metzger called after them, firing his scorcher over and over. “You can’t run! I’m dialed into your chips! I can track you anywhere on this station! I just got held up by some crazy cadets! Man, has this station gone to shit or what?”

  “I really don’t like how stable he sounds,” Linklater said. “Why isn’t he a crazy fuck like everyone else?”

  “I don’t know,” North said. “I watched him shoot enough pharma to kill an elephant.”

  “You’d have to bring one back from extinction first,” Linklater said.

  “Yeah, that’s how much pharma he took,” North said as they ducked around a corner, glad not to see rabid cadets waiting for them. “I think he could bring one back from extinction with his mind, he’s so fucking high.”

  The two men sprinted down the corridor, relieved at the small break from the constant violence. No cadets meant no slowing down. No slowing down meant they could keep from getting their asses shot off by Metzger. Although, North wasn’t sure how long that could last.

  “He’s steering us away from the lifts,” North said. “We have to get to one so we can get to the security levels.”

  “That’s sort of like walking into the lion’s den,” Linklater said.

  “Now who’s talking about extinct wildlife?” North said. “But if you want that medal then the lion’s den is where we have to go. Because it’s either there or it’s on Metzger.”

  They turned another corner and skidded to a stop.

  At least three dozen bloody and battered cadets stood in the hall, their eyes wide and pupils dilated. At their feet were another dozen cadets, all brutally beaten to a pulp. Blood and chunks of flesh were strewn everywhere.

  “Nope,” Linklater said. “Not going that way.”

  North slapped at his belt, but he had emptied his last pistol already.

  “Not unarmed, we aren’t,” North said. “Come on. Back this way.”

  They spun around and then stopped again. Coming down the last corridor was Metzger, a wicked smile on his face and a glowing scorcher to his shoulder.

  “Now where?” Linklater asked.

  North looked from the group of homicidal cadets to an open hatch only a few feet from the bloody mob. He frowned then grabbed Linklater by the arm.

  “Come on,” North said. “I think I know how to take care of Metzger.”

  “Good,” Linklater said. “But do we have to get closer to the crazies?”

  “Yes,” North said. “A lot closer.”

  The mob of cadets turned their attention from their victims and looked at North and Linklater, their soulless eyes boring holes in the two officers.

  “North? What’s the plan?” Linklater asked. North yanked him out of the corridor and into the open hatch. “No! Wait! This is not a good idea!”

  The hatchway was coated in blood and bodily fluids. The fluids led to a second hatch where North placed his wrist to a panel beside it. The hatch didn’t open.

  “Shit!” North shouted. “My fucking interface is still locked!”

  The hatch suddenly opened and three crazed cadets came rushing out. North jumped to the side and shoved Linklater away from him as he stuck out his leg. The first cadet tripped over it and went sprawling with the other two crashing down on top of him. North leapt on them, cramming his forearm into the backs of the heads of the top two as he stripped them of their scorchers. He tossed a scorcher to Linklater then jumped up and shoved the lieutenant through the open hatch just as the mob from the corridor came through the first hatchway at them.

  “Go!” North yelled. “Inside!”

  They hurried through and the hatch closed behind them. Linklater looked down at his scorcher then over at North.

  “This is a training rifle!” Linklater yelled. “What good is a training rifle going to do?”

  North looked out at the simulation in progress and the horrors being committed by the mad cadets that fought everywhere. He flipped the scorcher around and gripped it by the barrel then gave it a hard swing.

  “They make good clubs,” North said. “Come on.”

  “Where? Into that?” Li
nklater nearly shrieked. “This is a shitty plan, North!”

  “Only one I have,” North said. “Metzger will be coming for us. We can maybe get a chance to ambush him and take him down.”

  “Or we get killed by these insane fuckers!” Linklater said as several eyes turned towards them.

  “No, we won’t,” North smiled. “You recognize where we are?”

  “I do not give two shits where we are,” Linklater said.

  “Look around, Link!” North yelled. “Look at the sim! Where is this?”

  Linklater studied the landscape then nodded. “Yeah, I know where we are. I was still working on this sim. It shouldn’t even be running.”

  “Well, I’m guessing your techs aren’t in their right minds either. One of them probably activated it,” North said. “Come on. We need to get to the forests around the lake country. It’ll give us cover and more than likely these idiots haven’t gotten there yet. If Metzger gets through here alive then we’ll be ready for him.”

  “I fucking hope so,” Linklater said. “Only problem is we have to get through here alive as well.”

  “We will,” North said. “We have an advantage.”

  “Oh, what’s that?” Linklater asked as several cadets started to stomp their way towards them.

  “We aren’t crazy,” North said as he hefted the scorcher and ran straight for the oncoming cadets.

  “You sure about that?” Linklater asked just before he followed. “AAAAAAAH!!!”

  Forty-Seven

  The silence of the Estelian warship was almost more terrifying than the constant anticipation that someone would jump out at her with a scorcher and end her life right there in enemy territory. Garcia gripped the fire axe with all of her strength as she struggled to keep the weapon from slipping out of her sweaty palms.

  Not that the ship was completely silent. There were the constant echoes from various bits of debris colliding with the hull of the ship. Every time a thunk or clang would reach Garcia, she expected a squad of Estelians to come rushing out of a hatch at her. By the end of the second hour of searching the ship for signs of life, Garcia was close to screaming, her nerves were so frayed.

  “Hello?” Garcia shouted, done with stealth. Not that she had been considerably stealthy since she’d pretty much walked down the middle of each corridor she came to. “Hey! I’m right here, you DG assholes! No more hide and seek! Come on out and face me, you damned doublegangers!”

  Garcia paused in the middle of the corridor, ready for the violent response she knew was going to come. But it never did. She adjusted the grip on her axe again and again, holding it over her shoulder until her muscles started to protest. After counting to two hundred without any repercussions for her shouting, Garcia relaxed slightly, letting the axe fall to her side.

  She swung the axe back and forth as she decided that her time haunting the corridors of the eerily empty ship was over with. Garcia found the next hatch and looked at the panel next to it.

  “Recreation Room Six,” the panel read.

  Garcia cocked her head, her eyes studying the words again and again. Then she looked down the hall, leaning back from the hatch and read the words stenciled by the corner.

  “Level Twenty-Three, Crew,” the words read.

  Garcia had been on a lot of CSC cruisers, destroyers, and battleships. She knew the layout of those warships like the back of her hand. It was more than surprising that not only could she read the words on the panel, and stenciled down at the corner of the corridor, but that they matched the same layout as a cruiser she had served on when she was fresh out of training.

  “Recreation room, eh?” she wondered. “If you have four game tables, five couches, three vid screens, and a refreshment dispensary tucked into the corner then I’m going to shit.”

  She reached out and pressed her wrist to the panel, not expecting the hatch to open at all.

  It did.

  With a clang and a loud squeak, the hatch opened inward. Garcia hesitated then shoved the hatch all the way open with the head of the axe. She looked one way down the corridor, looked back the other way, and took a deep breath. She stepped through the hatchway and into the recreation room.

  Four game tables, five couches, three vid screens, and a refreshment dispensary tucked into the corner.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered.

  One of the vid screens came to life while the other two just flickered weakly.

  “Please select a program,” a voice from the vid screen said, making Garcia jump and swing her axe around. “Please select a program.”

  Garcia calmed down and approached the vid screen, her eyes studying the menu of program choices that slowly scrolled from the bottom of the screen up. She recognized the titles. They were entertainment programs that she had watched a hundred times. Next to their names were the words “Newly Uploaded”.

  “Newly uploaded a few years ago, maybe,” Garcia said. “I guess DGs are pirating old CSC programs now.”

  “Please select a program,” the voice said again.

  “Dream Hunters, Season Two,” Garcia said.

  The screen went to black then the opening credits of a silly children’s animated show began to play.

  “Mute,” Garcia said as the ridiculously cheery theme song started up. The song went silent, but the images of dancing children with plasma nets chasing images over sleeping children’s heads kept playing. Garcia watched for a couple minutes, shaking her head back and forth. “I loved this show.”

  She tore her attention away from the screen and walked around the room, her hand trailing along the game tables, her fingers coming away covered in dust. Her stomach growled and she looked at the refreshment station longingly. She had no idea if it worked or if it even had any food stocked, but she walked over to it anyway.

  “What the hell do you need this for?” she asked as she stared at the interface screen on the front of the station. “DGs don’t eat like we do.”

  That was one thing she knew from training, that DGs don’t eat like humans. They may take on human appearance, but they didn’t require the same nourishment a human body did. There were rumors that they lived off the life forces of the people they captured, draining them until the prisoners died and they could assume their forms, but something about the refreshment station bugged Garcia.

  It took her a minute to notice what it was that bugged her. Scuff marks. Lots of scuff marks against the dispenser chutes where food and drink would come out if an order was placed.

  Garcia ran her fingers along the spots worn smooth and then pulled back as she felt the station humming under her touch. She reached for the interface screen, pulled back, then pressed the icon indicating “drink.”

  A sub menu came up listing every liquid refreshment she could possibly want, except for alcohol. That had to be obtained in the ship’s officers’ club or the cantinas for the enlisted personnel.

  Garcia chose a simple cup of water and jumped back as the cup dropped from one of the chutes and was quickly filled. She grabbed it, sniffed it, then set it aside. She chose another drink, a fruit juice she was familiar with that originated in the Boone system. Another cup dropped and was filled. Garcia sniffed that and set it aside.

  Soon she was choosing drinks at random, grabbing full cups, setting them aside, and starting again. The counter next to the station was almost full of cups of liquid before she stopped and turned her attention on the food menu.

  “Okay, so Estelians get thirsty,” Garcia said. “Good to know. But they don’t eat. I know that. Everyone knows that.”

  Garcia ordered a hot sandwich and a side salad.

  A panel slid open and her order was presented to her.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered as she lifted the plate and sniffed the food.

  It smelled stale, but considering how hungry she was, it also smelled delicious. Garcia took a few cautious bites and almost swooned. Stale, yes, but it was food. Human food.

  “No way. No way, no way.”
<
br />   She set the plate aside, shoving over a couple drinks to make room on the counter then backed away from the refreshment station.

  The vid screen to her left caught her eye and she looked over to see that the program had ended. In its place was not the previous menu she had chosen from, but the Estelian ship’s insignia, spinning lazily in three dimensions projected a few inches out from the screen.

  Garcia stared at the insignia. She knew that insignia. Everyone in the CSC corps knew that insignia. It was an insignia she never thought she’d personally see ever again.

  Ever.

  Despite her stomach’s insistence that the plate of food that was perched on the counter was perfectly acceptable and should be finished, Garcia kept backing away from the refreshment station, her eyes locked onto the spinning insignia. When her butt hit one of the game tables, she cried out, spun, and sent the blade of the axe right into the middle of the table.

  Garcia left the axe there, its handle sticking up and out at an angle, as she hurried towards the hatchway and out of the recreation room. When she was out in the corridor she quickly oriented herself, which wasn’t hard to do since she knew exactly where she was and exactly where everything on the ship would be located.

  After all, she had spent her first year out of training on a ship exactly like it.

  Forty-Eight

  The injector fell from Metzger’s hand and he sighed with deep appreciation as he stood over the blasted bodies of the cadet mob that filled the hatchway to the simulation room. He looked down, his mind alive and reeling, and watched the spent injector tumble across a cadet’s nose and lodge between the corpse’s lips.

  Something about the image of the dead cadet kissing the injector made Metzger feel sorry for the kid. The stupid cadet wouldn’t be kissing anything anymore except for the afterlife. The thought tugged at him, scratching at the feeling of the fresh high. But Metzger shoved it away and convinced himself the cadet deserved to die.