Silent Order: Eclipse Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  Torrence frowned, started to respond, and then saw the grenade.

  Then his eyes went wide.

  “Move it!” Torrence shouted down the utility corridor. “Grenade! Move it!”

  He ran into the utility corridor, and March followed him.

  A half dozen macrobes hammered their way into the shop, kicking aside the racks of damaged T-shirts. March flung the grenade into the shop, hit the door control, and stepped back. The access door slid shut with a clang, and he ran down the corridor towards the others. He thought the access door would be thick enough to contain the explosion, but if he was wrong…

  There was a loud bang, and the deck shivered beneath March’s boots. There was a horrible shriek of stressed metal, and he saw that the door had been warped by the explosion. They weren’t using that door again, but neither were the macrobes.

  “What was that?” said Reader. He looked a little shocked.

  “Grenade,” said March.

  “What kind?” said Reader.

  “Fragmentation with a plasma core,” said March. He shrugged. “I figured it would help slow down pursuit. The fewer macrobes who decided to chase us through the ship, the better.”

  He did not say that he had decided to use the grenade the instant he had seen the dead young woman. That kind of thinking would not help accomplish the mission. Fortunately, the demands of pragmatism had intersected with the demands of his own outrage.

  “It worked,” said Cassandra, tapping at her phone. “I think the explosion killed three of them. The others look like they’re moving off.”

  “Probably because the shop is on fire,” said Tessa, pointing at a few wisps of smoke leaking through the warped access door.

  “That macrobe on the railing,” said Reader, wiping some sweat from his forehead. “The one that looked like a spider, the one that Miss Morgan killed.” Tessa smiled at that. “Why didn’t your detector pick it up, Miss Smith?”

  “It was asleep,” said Cassie. “My detector doesn’t pick up unconscious macrobes, only conscious ones. I don’t really know why.”

  “There’s a lot we don’t understand about macrobe possession, Mr. Reader,” said Torrence. “The fact that we have a device that can detect them at all is the only advantage we have. Normal sensors have a hard time picking them up.”

  “Hell of an invention,” said Tessa. “If we live long enough to get back to Calaskar, maybe you and Captain March should go into business mass-producing the detectors, Miss Smith. You’d make a fortune.”

  Cassandra blinked. Evidently, the possibility had not occurred to her, though March suspected she would be far happier working in a lab than heading up a manufacturing business.

  “We are getting back to Calaskar, Miss Morgan,” said Torrence, his voice hard with iron resolution. No doubt he had learned the proper tone of command in the Royal Navy. “We are rescuing the survivors and getting them back to Calaskar.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Tessa.

  “Let’s keep moving,” said Torrence. “Jack?”

  March nodded and resumed his previous place at Torrence’s side, and they headed through the utility tunnels. Twice they descended ladders and passed through junction boxes, rooms where four utility corridors met. March was familiar with the design of this class of starliner, but not familiar enough to navigate his way through the bewildering maze of the utility corridors. Fortunately, Torrence did indeed know his starship like the back of his hand. He led the way with confidence, and at last, they stopped at another access door, a ladder climbing the wall next to it.

  “There are at least three macrobes behind that door,” said Cassandra.

  “Ah,” said Torrence. “That could be a problem.”

  “What’s behind that door?” said March.

  “One of the private dining rooms for the first-class passengers,” said Torrence. “Big place, with a balcony running around the room. Any macrobes would have lots of room to maneuver and avoid our shots.”

  “Can we take another route?” said March.

  “This is the fastest route to the engineering section,” said Torrence.

  “Maybe we should take another way, sir,” said Reader. “The extra time is annoying, but better to arrive later than not at all.”

  “We’ll probably have to fight at least some macrobes no matter what route we take,” said March.

  “And any extra time could be fatal,” said Torrence. “Captain March shot down some pirates on the way here, and they’re likely still looking for his ship. If those pirates show up, I have no doubt they’ll try to blow up the Alpine once they learn the ship is infested with macrobes.”

  That was only half-true. Regular pirates, if they saw the Alpine was infested with macrobes, would probably get the hell out of system JX2278C as fast as they could manage, though bolder pirates might try to steal the Tiger first. The Oradrean secret police would not hesitate to blast the Alpine out of the sky to kill Cassandra and destroy her Eclipse prototype.

  “If we’re going to have to fight,” said March, “then we had best do it in a place that gives us a time advantage. It will do us no good to take a longer route to avoid these macrobes if we wind up having to fight anyway.”

  “Agreed,” said Torrence. “Miss Smith, can your device pinpoint the location of the macrobes?”

  Cassandra shook her head. “Not precisely. I know they’re about ten meters in that direction.” She waved her free hand at the access door. “For the next iteration of the device, I think I should include a tighter dark energy detection grid. That ought to allow for better real-time location mapping...”

  “Yes,” said Torrence, cutting off the lecture before it could gather steam. He looked at the ladder next to the access door. “That leads up to the balcony. I will head up there and scout the room, and...”

  “I’ll do it,” said March. “You’re the captain, and someone needs to be in charge.”

  And, truth be told, March was in much better physical condition and had far more practical experience of hand-to-hand combat than Torrence. If March opened the balcony door and found himself face to face with a macrobe, he had a better chance of surviving the encounter.

  “Very well,” said Torrence.

  “Be careful,” said Cassandra.

  “I will,” said March. “It...”

  Before he finished speaking, Cassandra leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

  “For luck,” said Cassandra.

  March took a second to work through that. She was pretending to be his girlfriend, after all. Torrence looked surprised. Reader looked amused, and for some reason, Tessa seemed irritated.

  “Yes,” said March at last, for want of anything better to say, and he turned and climbed the ladder to the balcony access door. He shifted his pistol to his right hand and triggered the door release with his left, and it slid open with a hiss.

  The smell of blood hit his nostrils at once.

  March eased through the door and found himself on a balcony encircling a large dining room, just as Torrence had described. It was nicer than the passenger lounge but not quite as opulent as the banquet hall. Just how many damned restaurants did the Alpine have? Did the passengers on the Alpine do nothing but eat? No wonder the gym was so large.

  He put aside the idle thought and crept to the edge of the balcony, the smell of blood growing stronger in his nostrils.

  A gruesome scene came to his eyes.

  It looked as if the main floor of the dining room had been the scene of a firefight. To judge from the plasma damage to the walls and furniture and the dozen dead macrobes scattered around the floor, a group of security officers had made a last stand here. March counted ten dead security officers. At least, he thought it was ten because three macrobes were busily ripping apart the corpses and devouring them. Two of the macrobes were the spider-like creatures that were the most common form. The third was a sort he hadn’t seen before. It looked kind of like a spiky sea turtle crossed with a locust. An armored shell covere
d in spikes protected its bulging body, and insect-like legs jutted from the sides of the shell. A human torso, head, and arms rose from the front of the armored shell, but below the torso were two huge bladed limbs, like the forelimbs of a mantis.

  March considered trying to kill all three macrobes before they realized that he was there. He started to lift his pistol to aim, and then he saw something that made him stop. The corpse of a security officer had been pinned to the wall by one of the bony spines from the armored macrobe’s shell. Had the security officer been dumb enough to try and fight the macrobe hand-to-hand?

  No, the spike had been driven too far into the wall for that.

  Almost as if it had been fired with great force.

  March glanced around the dining room and saw more of those bony spikes embedded in the walls.

  He mouthed a silent curse to himself, slipped through the access door, and slid down the ladder to rejoin the others.

  “Well?” said Torrence.

  “Three macrobes, just like Cassie said,” said March. “Two of them are the spider-like ones we’ve fought before. The third, though...it looks like a big spiky turtle. The shell’s covered with spikes about a meter long, and I think it can shoot those spikes with a good deal of force.”

  “How do you know that?” said Reader.

  “Because there’s a dead security officer pinned to the wall,” said March, “and somehow a meter-long shaft of bone penetrated that far into a metal wall.”

  “Is that even possible?” said Tessa.

  “There’s no reason why it isn’t,” said Torrence. “The limitations of macrobe-based mutations aren’t exactly known.”

  “We do have one advantage,” said March. “They’re currently eating the bodies of the dead security officers.”

  “Oh, God,” said Tessa. Cassandra swallowed and looked away.

  “That’s probably why they haven’t attacked each other yet,” said March. “I think our best bet is to attack them unawares, try to shoot down all three of them before they can react.”

  “We shouldn’t stay in the utility corridor,” said Reader. “We’ll have to treat the spines as if the enemy has a high-power plasma cannon or a portable railgun. If we stay lined up in the corridor, one lucky shot could kill all five of us.”

  Torrence nodded. “We’ll have to go through the door as quickly as we can.”

  “I’ll go first,” said March. “The rest of you follow and take cover behind the tables. I think we can kill the two spider macrobes without too much trouble. That spiny one is going to be trouble.”

  “That plan sounds good to me,” said Torrence. “Jack, whenever you’re ready.”

  March nodded, took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and then hit the door control.

  It opened, and he was through it in a flash, his pistol swinging around. He sought for the spiny macrobe, but the creatures had changed position since he had left the dining room. The two spider-like macrobes were between him and the spiny creature. One was stooped down, gorging itself on dead flesh, while the second had straightened up, the human face and neck and fingers glistening with blood and shredded flesh.

  It was a ghastly sight, which made it all the easier for March to raise his pistol and fire. The plasma bolt burned from the end of his gun and drilled into the macrobe’s temple. The bolt burned through its skull and sent the creature falling to the deck. March dodged to the side as the others burst through the access door, guns raised. The remaining two macrobes whirled to face the newcomers, and Tessa and Reader fired at the same time. The impact of the dual plasma bolts made the spider-like macrobe’s head explode in a burst of flame and cinders, and the creature fell.

  The final macrobe charged towards them, insect-like legs hammering against the deck with enough force to tear up the fake wood covering. March had lined up for another shot, and he and Torrence fired at the same time.

  But part of the macrobe’s shell seemed to unfold, the spikes glowing with the same eerie blue light as the tumor-like growths. The bony shell rose up and sheathed the human torso in armor, and the plasma bolts struck it and dissipated into nothingness. The macrobe whirled, turned its back to face them, which seemed illogical, but dozens of bony spikes were now pointing in their direction.

  “Get down!” shouted March.

  He threw himself behind a table, and the others followed suit as the macrobe fired a half-dozen spines at them. Three slammed into the wall, sinking a meter into the metal and quivering there. One punched into the table in front of March. The table slowed the spine’s momentum, but about ninety centimeters of jagged bone came to a halt next to him. March risked a look over the table and saw the spiny macrobe standing motionless in the center of the dining room, its torso still covered by that hood of bony armor. He took two quick shots at the creature’s torso, but the plasma bolts dissipated against the blue-glowing tumors on the bony shell. The macrobe didn’t even seem to notice the shots.

  The creature turned in a slow circle, and it stopped.

  “Tessa?” said the creature. “Tessa Morgan? Is that you?” The voice sounded calm and male and totally normal. March looked to the side and saw Tessa crouched behind another table, pistol in hand. Her face went bone-white at the sound of the macrobe’s voice.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “Warner.”

  “It is you!” said the creature, which presumably had been a crewer named Warner. “You know, I wondered if you lived through this. I was really curious.”

  “You know him?” said Torrence.

  “He asked me out,” said Tessa, her eyes wide with fear. “I tried to turn him down gently, but I don’t think he took it well...”

  “I really liked you!” said Warner, legs creaking as he turned back and forth. He didn’t seem able to see with the armored hood over his torso, but since it protected his weak spots it didn’t matter. “I really liked your ass. And your legs.” He let out a reedy laugh that didn’t have a trace of sanity in it. “But that doesn’t matter now because I don’t want you in that way anymore. I wonder what your legs will taste like. I wonder what your screams will sound like when I eat you alive. Hold still!”

  “Move!” said March, who had guessed Warner’s next tactic.

  He leaped to his feet and dodged as Warner surged in Tessa’s direction. Tessa got out of the way just in time. Warner crashed into the table she had been using as cover, and he smashed the heavy thing apart as if it had been kindling. The macrobe hurtled past and crashed into the wall, the bony spines embedding themselves in the metal. Warner heaved, but the spines had gotten stuck in the wall. Torrence and Reader opened up with their plasma pistols, and even Cassandra managed a few shots, but the bony armor shrugged off the plasma fire with ease.

  “Oh, Tessa, Tessa,” said Warner, trying to pull himself loose from the wall. “You really hurt my feelings. I would lie awake at nights thinking about you.” Another volley of plasma fire drilled into the armor and didn’t leave a scratch. “I wish you hadn’t turned me down. Now I have to kill and eat you. That only seems fair, doesn’t it?”

  “Stop shooting!” said March, yanking a grenade from his bandoleer. The others stopped firing, and March sprinted forward, drawing close to the macrobe. He set the fuse to five seconds and armed the grenade, holding down the trigger. March stepped right next to the struggling macrobe and used his left arm to jam the grenade into the gap between the bony plates of armor.

  It stuck in the bony carapace.

  “What’s that?” said Warner. “Is someone trying to punch me? That’s pretty stupid. That means I get to punch you back.”

  “Get down!” shouted March, and he ducked behind another table.

  The others followed suit, scrambling for cover. March wrenched the table around to face the macrobe and then raised his left arm to cover his head.

  Warner ripped himself free of the wall, and then the grenade exploded.

  There was a flash and a roar, followed by the macrobe’s howl of furious rage. Chunks of
smoking bone armor rained around March, some of them bouncing off his left arm. He surged to his feet, both hands coming up to grip his pistol. Through the cloud of smoke, he saw Warner bobbing back and forth like a drunkard, legs rasping against the floor. The explosion had ripped away the bony cowl that had covered his torso.

  March held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

  His shot caught Warner on the side of the head, and the macrobe staggered. Torrence had gotten to his feet, and his next two shots blasted away Warner’s head. The macrobe collapsed, the bony spines making a horrible screeching noise as they scraped against the deck.

  March let out a long breath and lowered his gun.

  “Is everyone all right?” said Torrence, looking around.

  “A little ringing in my ears,” said Cassandra, “but I’m not hurt.”

  “That was smart, Captain March,” said Reader. “Blowing off the armor like that. Quick thinking. Were you ever a Royal Marine?”

  “Afraid not,” said March. Likely Reader would not be pleased to know that March had once been an Iron Hand.

  “Miss Morgan?” said Torrence. Tessa stared at Warner’s carcass, her eyes still wide. “Are you injured?”

  “No,” said Tessa. She took a ragged breath. “I just...I think we should keep moving, Captain. As soon as possible.”

  “Yes,” said Torrence. “This way.”

  They crossed the dining room, making their way to the far wall. Now that the fight was over, the stench of the place filled March’s nostrils, an odor of blood and torn flesh and the strange ozone-like odor of the macrobes. The dining room had become an abattoir, and March would be glad to put it behind them.

  Torrence opened an access door on the far wall, ushered everyone through, and closed it behind them.

  “All right,” said Torrence. “We’re about halfway there. The next potential obstacle is a junction around a corner about one hundred meters that way. Four utility corridors meet there, and it’s large enough for a macrobe or two. Cassie, can you detect anything from that direction?”

  “No,” said Cassandra, checking her phone. “But that could mean...”