by Mark Tufo
Why do aliens always seem to want to eat us? I have never gazed upon a Progerian and thought, Mmm, you look tasty. And I certainly would not think that about a friggin’ Stryver.
Cherry abruptly started moving closer to Paul. “I would like to discuss a matter with you,” it said.
I had to do something fast as we were running out of time. I looked over to Tracy and noticed that she, thankfully the consummate soldier, had a Colt .45 around her waist. I snapped open the release and pulled it free. She only looked on as I did so; I appreciated that she in no way attempted to stop me. She knew I’d heard something I needed to act upon.
“Hey, Cherry,” I said louder than I needed to. “Have you ever seen the beautiful machinery that is a Colt .45? It’s a thing of art, I tell you.” I was pointing it directly at his skull.
“Mike, what are you doing? We are in the middle of diplomatic proceedings.” Paul was aghast.
“I’m just showing our new friends what a wonderful weapon I have here. It’s amazing the damage this thing can cause in such close quarters. You wouldn’t believe the size of the hole this thing can blow in somebody or something. Oh, and the exit wound, ooo-wee, that thing can be triple the size of the shot that went in. The bullet just mashes up like a mushroom head and it blows volumes of organic material through to the other side. Sort of exquisite, depending on who or what it is used on.” I left no doubt about what I was talking about.
Cherry was pissed; so mad in fact, that he let his guard down and each of us got a quick glimpse into his true intention. Paul looked to Cherry and then me.
There was not much hesitation in Paul. “Guards!” he shouted. Four Marines rushed in from an alternate entrance. They must have been there specifically in case something went wrong. The two Stryvers immediately found themselves staring down the barrels of four M-16s.
“How, Mike?” Paul asked.
“Cherry’s mandible things were coated in saliva,” I lied. “He was getting ready to eat.”
“Me? He was getting ready to eat me?” When Paul came to that realization, he paled considerably. I’ll give him one thing—he didn’t flinch. I would have been trying to hold back tummy tonic, but that’s just me.
“What do we do with them?”
“Unfortunately we can’t kill them.” Cherry hissed at me when I said the words. “You’re going to hiss at me? Really? You were just going to eat our commander and now you’re hissing? You’re an idiot. Like I was saying, we can’t kill them. We do that and that giant Stryver hive parked next door will plow us into the dirt. Bad analogy since we’re in space, but you get the gist. We’re going to have to let them go back. Their commander, at least, is on our side. We just need to talk to him.”
“You just want to let them go?” Tracy asked.
“They still have BT.”
By the time we got to the hangar there were a dozen guards.
“What are you doing?” Tracy and Paul asked simultaneously as I proceeded to follow the Stryvers onto their shuttle.
“I’m going to get BT and some technicians that aren’t hungry. Why are you coming with me?” I questioned as Tracy stepped aboard as well.
“Where you go, I go.”
“Odds are I’ll end up in hell.”
“I hear the weather is good this time of the year.”
The woman never ceased to amaze me. I sometimes forgot that she was a Marine long before I met her, and they earn the title.
“Good luck,” Paul said tersely.
Tracy may have said thanks, I personally did not acknowledge him. I was setting up so that I was as far from Ham and Cherry as I could be. I’d given Tracy back her 1911, since it was much better off in her hands. I was decent with a pistol but I’d always felt much more comfortable with a rifle in my hands. I had snagged one of the guard’s weapons and he seemed none too pleased. He was going to have a hard time explaining that to the supply sergeant.
The Stryvers had been quiet the entire time we walked to their ship. I was concerned that whatever tenuous link we may have shared was broken or they’d found a frequency I could not hone in on. That changed as soon as we were space-bound when they damn near became chatty-Cathys.
“Should we kill them both before we land?”
“The Talbot-thing is suspicious and will attempt to kill us if we move closer.”
“I believe I could make the jump to him before he could fire.”
The fuckers jumped? I certainly didn’t know that. We were a good ten feet apart, and he thought he could spring that distance before I could fire a bullet. I think my asshole had clamped so tight it was in danger of swallowing itself.
“What’s the matter?” I didn’t need to pantomime anything for Tracy to realize that something was wrong.
“Be ready. If the ugly one comes after me blow holes into his ass.”
“There’s a good looking one?”
“We are approaching the ship, and they are not letting their guard down.”
I could feel Cherry’s thoughts balancing on the edge of a razor. I had my finger on the trigger, I would get multiple shots off if he even flinched. He was rapidly weighing out the consequences-versus-reward in his action or inaction. I think he was leaning towards tactlessness as he was more of the “fire the torpedoes and let the chips fall where they may” kind of being. For that part of him I had respect, although it wouldn’t stop me from trying to stop him.
His legs were vibrating as he sent stimulant to fire them. I was subconsciously pulling back on the trigger, had about three pounds of draw going. I think it fired at six. The tension was broken as thought patterns came over whatever this thing used as a communications system. How thoughts were amplified and relayed was beyond me, but apparently the Stryvers had figured it out. It was the commander asking how all had gone. I hoped it was a broadcasted message I was supposed to receive, because I blurted out that it had mostly gone well but there had been some minor blips.
Now that the commander knew I was alive, it would make it that much more difficult for Cherry to get rid of me. I’d made his decision for him, but he did not seem overly happy about it. Ingrate. Cherry was glaring at me, or maybe he was staring, impossible to tell facial features on a fiend that has no recognizable facial features. I’ve seen a bowling ball with more expression. He was not transmitting a warning tone that I could pick up. Maybe it was on a more primal level because when our ship docked on the Stryver mother ship we were “greeted”, and I am using that term very, very lightly, by a host of Stryvers carrying all manner of dangerous looking implements.
“Howdy!” I said to them all, waving.
“I’ve seen your balls, they’re not this big,” Tracy said next to me.
“My balls? Oh no, this has nothing to do with them. They’ve crawled up inside my belly. This is all insanity.”
“Fantastic,” she replied.
“Bring me to your leader.”
“Did you just quote a 50’s B-movie line?” Tracy was as tense as I’d ever seen her. We were staring down the barrels of weapons that would reduce us to parts in less than a second. Not that the Stryvers needed any additional help, mind you.
We lucked out. We did not need to go to the commander as he came to us.
“Were there problems?” he asked.
This could have been said so I could hear it, but he was looking at Ham and Cherry so I had to figure he meant it just for them. This was a dangerous game I was playing.
“The Talbot-thing threatened to kill me.” Cherry was pissed.
“Did he have reason?” the commander asked astutely. I swear Ham and Cherry exchanged a knowing glance. The lull in the response was all the answer the commander needed. “I wish it were not so Driftar, but we need these things to aid us in the war. Their reward, once they win, will be a swift death that, at least, we will owe them. You cannot jeopardize this alliance because you do not like the thing.”
I was getting sick of being called a “thing” but I just stood there, I think gri
nning like an idiot while I listened in.
“What’s going on? And close your mouth,” Tracy demanded.
“If there were knives involved they would be sticking in our backs.” I pulled her close to talk in her ear. I used a talent my mother had often warned would get me into trouble—I spoke without thinking. “We are safe for now, as long as Progerians exist.”
“This is madness.”
“I may have used clusterfuck, but that works as well.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing for now. One problem at a time. We need to grab BT and get the Guardian fixed so we can deal with the immediate threat.”
“We have news from your home world, Michael.” The commander had come closer, I gripped the rifle hard enough to squeeze oil from it.
“I’m listening.”
“The Progerians have two vessels circling your planet. They have picked up those you had imprisoned, and are in the process of bombing every population center still in existence.”
Vertigo swooped in. I thought the floor was going to come up and smash me in the nose. The fear I felt for my child, for Dee, for my family. It was more than I could bear.
“Oh, my God,” Tracy said.
“This is what they do when the losses become unacceptable. It is their version of a compliment.”
He had not meant that to be in any form of jest. Those words were delivered with anger. It had been exactly what the Progs had done to his world. The commander might not like us at all, but the species hated the Progerians on a fundamentally entirely different level.
“Time is short. We need to send technicians over to your ship and do some vital repairs and upgrades, and I need to have a guarantee of their safety.”
If my world wasn’t threatening to spin off its axis and into the stratosphere, I would have found that hilarious. Kind of like the wolf asking the sheep for safe passage through the meadow.
“They’ll be fine. I would like to take BT with us when we return to the Guardian,” Tracy was able to say.
I could see the question in the commander’s head. He did not bother to remember most of our names. Why bother?
“The man you picked up with us. I would like to take him back,” I added.
His hesitation made me fear that during our time gone something heinous had befallen him. “Of course, I will have Brynyrth escort you to his room.”
Within a few moments we were led to and then into BT’s quarters. He was sitting on a pile of some straw-like substance.
“Well, this isn’t the Hilton,” I said as I entered.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I could sense the desperation and fear in his voice.
I looked over to Tracy. “Why do people think I have so much power and freedom to do as I please? We came back as soon as we could.”
“She looked down!” BT was pointing at Tracy.
“What?” I asked.
“She looked down when you said you got here as fast as you could, which leads me to believe that what you said was a lie.”
“I…I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I stammered.
“You two got busy!” He had stood up and was pointing at both of us and then began swaying his arms back and forth so his fingers crossed. “I’m stuck on this shithole with giant ass bugs who would rather eat me than talk to me and you’re getting a piece? What the hell, man!”
He was enraged. “BT, man, it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t foregoing getting you out of here in order to spend some time with my wife. We had some time before we could get back, we took advantage of it.”
He stood towering over me for a second more before he pulled back. “I’m sorry. This place…this place isn’t meant for people. Everything about it is so foreign, it has put me on edge.”
“On a good note, it looks like your leg is doing well, and we’re getting the fuck out of here.”
“And our friends?”
“They’re going to help as long as it’s advantageous for them.”
“I’ve had friends like that. Who needs enemies when you have friends like that?”
“Funny, because we have both,” I told him. “You ready to go?”
“I am, and thank you.”
The shuttle trip back was horrible, even if it was bigger than the original transport. The thing was crammed full of Stryvers and their tools. I would have sat in the transport bay, but that thing was jam packed full of equipment and things to fix the Guardian. I just wished I didn’t have Stryver ass in my face. At least I couldn’t detect any outright hatred directed towards us from these beings. Disgust and hunger maybe, but not hatred. That was one positive at least.
Paul had a team of his own technicians and guards follow the Stryvers around, although it was impossible to tell what half of the equipment they were installing was for. It was safe to assume there was an interplanetary lo-jack onboard now and maybe even a self-destruct that could be remotely detonated. We just had no way of knowing. For now, we were safe. They wanted us, hell, needed us, back in the fight, and we were all too willing to do so.
BT and I stayed as far from the activities as we could. Tracy seemingly couldn’t stay away. I think she was slightly fascinated with how disgusting the Stryvers were. At dinner the previous night, she had told me how the Stryvers eat. First they eat, and then regurgitate the food to swallow it again and place it in another chamber of their stomachs for easier digestion. We were eating a military version of beef stew when she passed this little nugget of info along.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked as I let my spoon fall back into my bowl. What tasted partially palatable before had now lost any appeal to me.
“I think they’re going to be easier to kill than the Mutes, definitely the Progerians,” she added.
“You should have maybe started with that. Go on,” I prodded.
“Their entire upper torso is their nerve center. From what I can tell, getting hit anywhere there is equivalent to a male getting punched in the nuts.”
BT and I both subconsciously crossed our legs.
“You may be right about that, but they wear heavy battle armor,” BT replied. I’ve seen small caliber rounds bounce clean off it. Some sort of super Kevlar.”
“What about steel-tipped rounds?” I asked.
“It’s not like I had an opportunity to check out a bunch of different things. When they first came across us, a few of my men shot at them. It was a short, one sided affair.” He shivered as he remembered the encounter.
I would have liked to ask him exactly what happened, but he really didn’t look up to it.
“We need to grab one of those things,” I said softly. Not that I needed to, the cafeteria was nearly empty, and those few who were in here were most definitely not aliens. I almost laughed thinking about a Stryver spy trying to blend in and be human. I said almost.
“The armor?” Tracy asked.
“Well, that too, I suppose.”
“You want to kidnap a Stryver?” BT asked incredulously.
“We have to. We know almost nothing about them. There’s gotta be a hundred of those nasty things roaming around, they won’t miss one.”
“How sure about that are you?” my wife asked.
I shrugged.
“What about the psychic link? All it has to do is cry out for its friends and we’re fucked,” BT said.
“Near as I can tell, that link is only good for a certain length. Sort of like a scream, it can only be heard to a certain point.”
“Mike, what is that point?”
“How the hell can I know, man?”
“They have to have rosters. When they come up one short they’re going to know where he or it is. They’ll send hundreds back searching, they might even destroy this ship to do it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“He’s not listening, is he?” BT asked Tracy.
“Nope.” She took in a mouthful of stew.
* * *
&nbs
p; My opportunity came almost a week later. I’d been watching the creepy fuckers, wondering if it could even be done. They tended to always be in pairs—if not bigger groups—and they were hyper-aware of their surroundings. I would come up as close as I dared, and invariably the things would turn to watch me. I would then find some excuse to veer off at a sharp angle. As repairs were being finished, more and more of the Stryvers were going back to their own ship. This result was fine with everyone onboard the Guardian.
I had just gotten out of the shower. Tracy had gone to the bridge and was learning the new firing systems, along with a bunch of other gadgets I had no interest in. BT was in the quarters next to mine. I had no idea gang members liked to sleep in. I put on my uniform, rumpled as all hell. I took some satisfaction in seeing Paul’s disdain when I showed up for meetings in a uniform I had literally picked up off the floor.
I was going to bang on BT’s door to see if he wanted to get breakfast when I saw a Stryver working on a panel not more than ten feet from me. He was alone, his back to me, and he seemed fairly rapt in his work.
“Fuck me,” I whistled under my breath. “Shit like this happens for a reason,” I muttered once I got back into my room. I thought about grabbing my gun and forcing him into my room, but decided that wouldn’t work. First off, there would be the noise; and second, if I didn’t shoot him, he would easily overpower me.
I grabbed the small lamp on the nightstand. “Yeah, real effective,” I said as I slapped it against my palm and set it down. My next thought was ripping the towel hanger out of the wall. “Yup, hollow aluminum tube will put the fear of God in him.” I glanced over to my rifle standing up in the corner of the room. “That’ll work.” I ran to it, popped the two pins out that held the lower receiver to the upper receiver. I tossed the bolt onto my bed and swung the upper receiver around like a baseball bat to get a feel for the weight and heft. “This will do, rabbit, this will do.” I wondered what Bugs Bunny would think of this particular mess.
I quickly opened my door and glanced both ways. The coast was clear, as Bugsy Malone would say. All these bug references seemed fitting considering my quarry. I’m not sure my heart could have been pounding any harder than it was. I tried to keep my thoughts as calm and benign as possible given the circumstances. There was a chance the worker would “hear” my presence because of that stupid mind link. Add in that, even though they did not use verbal cues to talk, they could hear better than humans. How he couldn’t hear the rush of my blood pumping was beyond me. I was five feet away and I was going to abort. This was ludicrous, I was going to attack a being three times my size with a small club.
