by Mark Tufo
“What the fuck happened?” I was referring to the time and to me. As far as I was concerned, I had just rolled up to the thing less than a minute ago. But that wasn’t quite true either, was it? There was something else. Something more.
The sergeant was wheeling me out, post haste.
“Hold on,” I told him.
“Sir, the hangar doors are going to be open soon.” He seemed to feel the need to explain to me how dangerous this was going to be and why I needed to be out of there.
“Sergeant Mulligan, stop pushing this chair and belay the colonel’s last order.” I looked back over my shoulder to let him know I wasn’t kidding. If he had been a machine I think he would have self-destructed in indecision.
“Sir, you, umm, have a reputation…”
And then he stopped.
“And?” I prodded.
“Sir, you can be, well, fairly reckless. I need to get you out of here, and we need to get rid of those things.”
“Fairly reckless? That’s the best you can do? I’ll tell you what, Sergeant you keep pushing this chair and you’re going to think up a whole new vocabulary in regards to me. Am I clear?”
He finally stopped. I heard him mutter: “Shit,” as I headed back.
I had my hand on the container when Tracy came in, after the sergeant had summoned her. By now, nearly the entire container was glowing. And the hour I had lost all came flooding back.
“You are not Progerian, nor are you Stryver. Your brain is neither reptilian, nor insectoid; you are mammalian.”
I told it, “I am human, yes. What is going on?”
“I am a Rodeeshian; my name is Tabor.”
“How are we communicating?”
“Telepathically. I have found your speech center and assimilated your language. Are you an enemy of the Stryvers?”
Here was a loaded question. It could speak to me with brain waves, even found out how to speak to me, yet it did not know my thoughts. There was no way I could tell if being an enemy of the Stryvers was a good or bad thing with this creature.
“We are enemies,” I answered honestly.
“And the Progerians?”
“Them as well.” There was a pause as if Tabor were measuring my words.
“Where am I?”
“You are aboard the Vicieus, which we have taken over.”
“The creatures that were aboard?”
That it had named them creatures instead of their actual species led me to believe he was not a fan.
“Gone or will be soon.”
“Where are we going?”
“Aradinia.”
“That is my home world; though I have never been. For what purpose?”
“To destroy it.” I don’t know if I felt compelled to be honest; I just felt it was the right thing to do, like maybe it couldn’t see my thoughts, but it would be able to tell if I was being truthful or not. I felt my last statement might need some further clarification. “The Progerians have pushed my planet to the brink of extinction. At great personal loss, we have gained a slim advantage and now have a chance to end our conflict for good.”
“My kind never had that opportunity. The Progerians hunted my free kind into oblivion. If we’d ever had the opportunity to fight back, we would have. It was only when they discovered our unique means of communication and lethality, that we were allowed to serve them.”
“You can speak to Stryvers?” I asked, it seemed a logical conclusion.
“We can hear them on three of their communication levels.”
“You’re spies?”
Maybe Tabor was taking a moment to figure out what that meant. “And more. My kind are also used as assassins. The Progerians have modified us from our original design. Before we were genetically altered, our neurotoxin was mild and used merely to subdue our prey, now we are able to give lethal doses of poison to animals many times our size.”
“Stryvers,” I figured I was answering.
“Usually, but not always. The Progerians will often tout their non-duplicity even as they send us out to kill those they have an issue with.”
“Always kind of figured they were full of shit when they talked about how they didn’t lie. What is this thing you are in?”
“My kind are very adept at breaking into and out of places; advantageous as assassins and spies. when the Progerians realized we were a difficult animal to keep contained, they developed these cryogenic units. They are meant to keep us inert and inactive.”
“And I activated you?”
“It would appear so.”
“And how do I open this?”
He relayed images of the series of movements I needed to make on the shell rather than tell me in words. This was when Sergeant Mulligan came over. I’d shaken my head as if I’d been in a daze. Not really even sure if what had happened had really happened. Like, maybe I had fallen into a sleep caused by the medicines or the stress or maybe that the crazy had finally taken over.
I was back at the small cage, ready to open it.
“Tabor, are we friends?”
“We cannot yet be.”
“Do you mean harm to me or any of those with me?”
“Do you mean harm to me or any of those still with me?”
“I do not.”
“Neither do I,” he said.
“Michael, what are you doing?” Tracy was approaching.
“There is a highly intelligent creature locked in this thing,” I told her.
“Do you really feel the need to let it out?” she asked. “And is it safe?”
“I do feel the need to let it out,” I told her truthfully.
“You didn’t answer both questions.”
“I don’t think you’d like how I respond to that last part.”
“I already don’t like it.”
“They are no friends to the Stryvers or Progerians.”
“Who told you that? Him?” She pointed to the glowing container. “That really your best source of information?”
“Just get everyone out of here. I’m opening this thing.”
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“As much as I can be.”
Tracy ordered everyone out but herself. She came closer.
“I said everyone,” I told her.
“If you think it’s safe enough to open that thing with you in here, then it’s safe enough for me as well.”
That wasn’t what I meant and she knew it, but she had painted me into a corner. I did the sequence of events Tabor had asked. I thought I had done something wrong, as nothing happened at first, then we watched as a thin line began to form on the surface. It circled from the top of the shell to the bottom, and then another bisected this nearly in the middle. There was an escape of gas and a fairly large pop. First, light spilled out, and then came a furry foot. Tracy pulled me back as the animal began to unfurl like a rolled-up flag. What was before me defied logical explanation. It was fifteen feet long and nearly as thick around as my thigh. It had the body of a snake, yet it was heavily covered in thick, white fur. And instead of a slithering form of locomotion, it had twelve stubby legs. These were also covered in fur, though they were more of a gray color. It had the elongated face of a ferret, and wicked fangs that looked every bit able to deliver a killing strike. Ears sat high upon its head and bright, inquisitive eyes stared back at me.
At that very second, I was feeling as if I’d made a big mistake. It was far bigger than it had a right to be, and it had been curled up in a can for who knew how long so it should have been as stiff as a board, but it stretched itself out, and was suddenly very fluid and fast. It reared up as it sat on the back half of its legs. The top four legs it seemed to use as arms, like maybe an otter would.
“I am Michael,” I said both aloud and in my mind.
It eyed me warily, then looked over to my wife.
“That’s Tracy, she’s my wife, my mate.”
In less than the blink of an eye, it had traveled the ten feet betw
een us and was looking down at us. If it wanted us dead, we soon would be.
“Mike?” Tracy was scared. Tabor, who had been less than a few inches from my face turned to look at her.
“Tracy, I know you desperately want your gun right now, but just leave it. See those six-inch fangs he’s displaying? They contain poison.”
“My mother told me to marry a dentist. Said they were stable, had good careers and income. I’d never want for anything. Right now, Michael, I wish I’d listened to her.”
Once Tracy had shown she was not going to make a threatening move, Tabor looked back to me. A thick wet tongue, nothing at all like a snake’s, stuck out. I’d mistakenly thought it was sampling the air; sure would have got a heavy dose of my fear, if that was what it was doing. I’d not been expecting the heavy, gelatinous slime of saliva that now stretched from the bottom of my jaw to the top of my forehead.
“Thank you for freeing me.”
“Mike?” Tracy asked, not sure what she was seeing.
“Can she not hear you?”
“Not unless I wish her to.”
“Could you, maybe, so that she does not think I’m any crazier than she already thinks I am?”
“Does she speak the same language as you?”
“She is the female of my species, so not really, but close.”
“Hello, Tracy.”
Tracy stepped back, slightly stunned.
“Tracy meet Tabor,” I said. We filled her in pretty quick with what I knew. With Tabor’s help, I opened up the other three crates. Karum, Glantun, and Fledling were much more cautious of us than Tabor; it took some convincing on her part (she had clued us into the fact that she was of the female persuasion) for them to accept that we were all on the same side and that they could open up to us.
“Thank you,” Karum said, her body fur was a coal black and her legs were the same drab gray shade as the flooring, making her look as if she were levitating, perhaps like a flying dragon. Glantun, the only male in the group, grunted in our general direction–though I got the distinct feeling he was extremely happy to be free. I understood the grunting as well, probably after living most of his life surrounded by females he’d not had many opportunities to speak. His fur was bright yellow with red legs; he would have had a harder time screaming about how dangerous he was.
Fledling was last. “Only my litter mate could be bold enough to approach a new species and find common ground. Thank you,” she said to me. Her fur was slightly darker than her sister’s and her legs a shade lighter.
“That sounds much like Michael. There is no one else on this ship and most likely our entire planet that would have had the curiosity and courage to open those prisons.” Tracy said.
More people began to drift in, there was suspicion on both sides, but the more contact we had the more that began to dissipate.
“Is this the one?” Karum asked Tabor as she sidled up to her.
“It would appear that he is,” she answered. “You are the reason we are aboard this ship. Well, you, and a few dozen others.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, though knowing what they were and what they did it was kind of a foregone conclusion.
“Before we were frozen in these pods, we were briefed on our mission to kill you, a General Ginson, Drababan, and a General Burkhalter.”
“Little late. Three of those four are already gone.” It would have been difficult to miss the sadness etched on my face.” Tracy rubbed my shoulders.
“It is always painful to lose those that you care for. Memories can be both a blessing and a curse. We still remember the times before the erudition. When we were wild animals, with not many cares beyond eating, mating, and surviving.”
“Erudition?” Four syllables, I was about a syllable and a half beyond my understanding.
“Progerian mutations,” Karum said. “They made us, larger, more lethal, and significantly smarter.”
“Can’t really order someone to do something if they don’t understand you,” I added.
“The more intelligent we grew, the more difficult it became for them to control us; thus, the cryogenic pods,” Tabor pointed. This was more for the others, as I already knew.
“When even that didn’t work, they would either sacrifice one of us, or threaten to do so to make the others capitulate to their will,” Karum said.
“Every time I feel like I’ve got a handle on just how evil the Progs are, they one up me,” I said. “They have destroyed billions of my kind and they’re not done yet.”
“Colonel, General. We are receiving reports that the Progerian escapees are up to something.”
“There are still Progerians aboard this vessel?” Glantun asked. He had mostly been staying to the corners, interacting when he needed to, but staying out of the center of attention. Now he was all ears.
“A few,” I told him.
“What is a ‘few?’” he asked. Not sure if he didn’t understand the word or wanted a number.
“Forty-five, fifty, maybe, that are still able to fight.”
I noted that Glantun looked over to Tabor. There was little doubt she was in charge of this squad.
“Where?” Tabor asked.
Tracy pulled up a schematic of the ship. Tabor’s head was bobbing, taking in all areas surrounding the Progs.
“We have them hemmed in; we’ve just been reluctant to further endanger our people to get rid of them. Now it would appear it has become necessary,” I told her.
“We wish to be part of the assault,” Tabor said.
I looked over to Tracy. “Your call, General,” she said.
“We would welcome your help.”
“You will need to bring us to this point and give us…” She was thinking. “I believe it to be five of your minutes to get into position. Do one of you possess a device to mark off time?”
Tracy showed her wrist.
“Will you please show me now how long fifteen seconds is? It would be wise to use the same measurements.”
Tracy did as she was asked.
Tabor nodded. “Once you get us into position, we will only need four minutes and forty-eight seconds,” she corrected.
Tracy looked to me. I shrugged. “Alright, let’s get this done.”
I was relegated to the bridge where I would only be able to watch everything as it transpired. If the Rodeeshians were lying, we were basically giving them right back to the creatures that had wanted them. I was concerned, but when it all came down to it, how much damage could four giant ferrets do? I watched as Captain Fields opened up an access panel and somehow Tabor and her companions fit through a space that didn’t look much larger than the diameter of a fifty-cent piece. Tracy started her timer as Fields raced her and two others to where the guards already had their orders and were gearing up to go. The Progs knew they were being watched, and once again were in that infuriating huddle, keeping us from seeing what they were doing. Odds were they weren’t playing dice. At four minutes and forty seconds, Tracy sent her people in, guns blazing. The Progs were ready for this and were returning fire almost before my troops could gain entry. The door was a choke point, and for every two that got in, one was paying the ultimate price.
“Where the fuck are you, Tabor?” I asked when four minutes fifty rolled on by. I caught a blur to the left of my monitor. The four of them had come in on the opposite side of the action and they were moving so fast, so fluidly, rolling over and around each other they were like colored ribbons trailing a kite. A Prog in the back went down in a tangle of fur and fang, I don’t even think he knew what hit him. Another and another went down in the same fashion. The Progs were catching wind, though, and they turned to face the new threat. It almost didn’t matter. The Rodeeshians were striking lightning quick, the platoon of men advancing on them was nearly forgotten as the Progs seemed genuinely terrified of the new attacker.
Fields called for a ceasefire while the Rodeeshians were weaving in and out of the Progs, he was fearful that a stray bullet would c
atch their new ally. Most of my men, like myself, were slack-jawed as the Progs were being dropped mercilessly. It wasn’t carnage in the traditional way; there were no large sprays of blood or blown-off body parts. Just small bites as Tabor and her crew injected venom and went to the next. Whatever the poison was, it dropped the Progs almost instantly. Their bodies became rigid for a few moments before they began to convulse uncontrollably. Only three remained, none of them armed, as Tabor called off the attack.
Tracy called up to me on the ship’s radio. “You seeing this, Mike?”
“Sort of. They move so fast!”
“They look tired. Are you so sure you want these things running around the ship?”
I knew what she was implying; the Rodeeshians could be taken out. We had over thirty armed people in there. Those animals might be fast, but not faster than a bullet and Tracy was right, they looked tired and more than one had some minor wounds from a scrape or a Progerian punch. And we already knew that just because we hated the same enemy didn’t necessarily mean we were on the same team. Had our history with the Stryvers to drive that point home.
“Get the injured ones to sick bay. I’m coming down.” I told her.
It was only Tabor and Karum and the three Progs who had not moved so much as an inch since I’d left the bridge.
“Tabor?” I asked.
“These three before you were our primary handlers. The one in the middle, Sendillian, was particularly cruel to us. He killed my pair-bond mate because I moved too slowly; it mattered not that I was wounded.”
“You must help us, Human!” Sendillian cried out.
Tabor looked over to us in what I assume was a curious expression. Perhaps wondering what I would do and if I would show the Progs some mercy.
“Why?” was all I said. That was the only cue Tabor needed. There was a part of me that wondered if it would be better if the three Progs got the better of the two Rodeeshians. Those animals could wreak unimaginable havoc aboard this ship if they so desired, sneaking into just about any area, striking lethal blows and disappearing back where they came. The Progs were in defensive postures; it did little to prevent what happened next. Tabor and Karum backed up and began their strange approach where they would flow around each other like a tangle of serpents. The prog heads were moving in unison attempting to keep an eye on the aggressors. At the last moment, Tabor and Karum split apart and attacked the Progs to either side of Sendillian. They went down quickly, much like their compatriots had. Sendillian received all the pent-up rage those two must have been holding on to for years. Somehow, they were able to turn off or tone down the quick action of their toxin.
