Terror on the Trailblazer

by John Thornton

  Three figures emerged from covert places in other parts of the ceiling, one tossed a small ball. The ball cracked as it struck Princeton, igniting the sticky gel.

  “Yaiieh!” Princeton screamed out as flames leaped up from the burning ooze. She tossed away her engulfed energy weapon and shield as both of them were soaked with the flammable gunk, and parts were igniting and blazing with intense fire.

  Zapp.

  Butterfield fired her energy weapon, a brilliant yellow beam of energy lanced out. The nearest tant was cleaved into two sections, each part falling away in a cauterized stinking mess. That tant’s attack was thwarted, but it was not alone.

  Another tant fired a weapon, but Butterfield had rolling away, and the projectile struck where she had been, missing her be mere centimeters. More slugs rained down near her, but she found some cover.

  Sloughing off the burning and ruined riot armor from her torso, Princeton stood in a charred undershirt, painful burns on her face and neck. She tried to get at her reserve weapon, but there were globs of unignited ooze on it. The armor covering her legs and feet had mostly escaped the sticky mess, but some of her holsters and pouches on her belt were dabbled by it, yet, somehow, those splashes had not ignited. A tant lunged at her, and she kicked out, but missed. The tant struck her a glancing blow with rod of permalloy it was wielding like a club, knocking her down to one knee. She grabbed the rod as the tant pulled it back to strike again, and the two wrestled for the club.

  Zapp. Another tant who was rushing at them was killed by Butterfield’s energy weapon. Some tant slugs landed around Butterfield, but again, she was spared being hit.

  Princeton had gotten the club away from the tant, and had beaten it back, crushing the tant’s face with a jab from the club. Then suddenly, Princeton screamed out, “No!” She was struck again by a pot of flaming, sticky ooze. This time it clung to her underclothing, and exposed skin, when the fire started, she batted at her burning flesh, but that only caused her hands to be covered and encircled by flames.

  The fire suppression alarms finally went off, but the lights in the corridor flickered and then failed, being replaced by red flashing emergency lighting. That light, mixed with the dancing illumination from the flames cast eerie shadows all around, silhouetting Princeton. Then retardant foam sprayed out from nozzles in walls. Tragically, none of the nozzles close to Princeton were functional. Someone had crimped over their nozzle tips, so the foam did not disperse from those.

  A tant voice cried out, “Burn you baby killers! Burn!”

  Zapp. Butterfield fired again, and the brilliant yellow beam shot out toward where the tant had been calling. This time, there was not a return volley of slugs, and Butterfield smiled at that. However, burning bundles of ooze flew from various places, yet Butterfield dodged and avoid all of those. Birmingham and Irwin galloped down the hallway toward where the flames were leaping up around Princeton as she jerked about, blinded by the injuries to her face, and yet still trying to get to a nozzle which was spraying out the white foam. Black smoke was coming off the melting riot armor which was still on Princeton’s thighs and legs. Her cries of anguish drowned out all the other sounds in the corridor. The smell of burning armor was not as bad as the stink of Princeton’s flesh as it was being consumed as well.

  Using their clear permalloy shields to push the still burning Princeton along, Birmingham and Irwin got on each side of her and managed to get her to a functional nozzle. More burning pots were landing near them, as well as some projectile weapon slugs. Those projectiles ricocheted and caromed off the shield and armor, but several also hit Princeton, and without armor she suffered more wounds. She was in too much anguish to notice.

  “Get that fire out!” Butterfield yelled. She stepped into a doorway where she could see down the corridor, and kept firing her energy weapon at the dark corners, open doorways, and shadowy spots where the flaming pots of ooze were originating. “Get Princeton back away from here! I will kill these vermin!” She knew she had hit some of the tants, but was unsure how many more were still around. Ducking down, and firing from a squatting position, Butterfield watched for more targets, and tried to protect her people.

  “Princeton! Hold still so we can get the foam on you,” Irwin gagged out an order, although his voice shook with the shock of seeing all the charred flesh.

  “Push her back to that one! The foam will help!” Birmingham added. He too was nauseated by the reek of charred flesh.

  More pots of flaming ooze fell from openings in the ceiling. They were burning a bright and ominous blue-white color.

  “Press her up against here. It will only…” Birmingham said, but his words were interrupted by a gigantic explosion.

  Kablasssttt!

  A holster pouch around Princeton’s waits exploded. It had held Princeton’s energy weapon’s ammunition recharge element. That insulated pouch was designed to be safe in temperatures up to five hundred degrees. The phosphorous and magnesium mixture in the newly thrown ooze had flared up and rapidly exceeded that. When the pouch failed, and the burning ooze reached the ammunition recharge element, it exploded with astonishing power.

  Princeton was obliterated.

  Birmingham was viciously tossed down the corridor toward the clinic. His broken body tumbled head over feet, over and over, finally cartwheeling into an ESRC box, where it then slid down to the floor in a shattered clump.

  Irwin was crushed against the sidewall, then incinerated by the fireball unleashed from the blast.

  Butterfield was protected from that same fireball—but only barely—by the random fortune of her crouching in a doorway, and having the door between her and the corridor. Her clear permalloy shield was on her arm, facing that same direction, and between its protection, and the door serving as a barrier, she was only knocked all the way into the room as the door slammed shut while the fireball surged past. She lay face down on the flooring, her ears ringing, and the smell of seared bodies heavy in the air.

  For some moments—how long she never knew—Butterfield was disoriented and remained flat on that floor. Then her reflexes kicked into action, and she rolled onto her back, keeping the energy weapon at the ready. She took some deep breaths, then sat up, staggered around a bit, and looked at the door. It was sealed shut by the heat, as the insulating gasket around that door was now a solid mass fusing the door with the frame.

  “Anyone? Report!” Butterfield ordered through her multiceiver. It was set for the team channel.

  There was no response.

  Even the mysterious watchers who had been surveilling Ken, Janae, and those who came into contact them with were now unable to observe, hear, or track what was happening. Butterfield was totally unaware of them, but up until the explosion, they had been aware of her and her team. Now, they too were blind and deaf to what was happening.

  Looking around, Butterfield saw a doorway which was across the room, and led to a hallway which was perpendicular to the one where the blast had taken place. Reaching that door, she manually opened it just a crack and peered out. Across the hall, she spotted two tants moving not-quite-stealthily enough in a room. The doors to that room were jammed open, with only a small portion sticking out of the door pockets. Both tants were holding onto each other, limping along.

  “No way will you escape,” Butterfield muttered, not caring if anyone heard her or not. Her ears were still ringing, and her anger burned brighter than the fireball which had killed her team.

  Rushing across the hall, Butterfield aimed her energy weapon at the tants, “Halt! Turn and face me, or die.”

  Both tants turned around. Each was injured, but not by burns from the explosion. Both had been struck by energy weapon fire, one in the leg, and the other across the stomach. Neither wound was mortal, but each was debilitating in its own way.

  The tants were mouthing something, but Butterfield was unable to hear it. The ringing in her ears, and the fire alarms confused her senses.

  “Sit down!” Butterfield comma
nded. “In that corner!”

  Apparently, the tants could hear her, better than she could hear them, since they both moved to the corner of the room, dropped to their knees, and then sat back on the floor. There were some utility pipes which came up from the floor in that corner. Butterfield shifted her energy weapon to the hand where her shield was secured, and then with her free hand, reached in a pocket of her riot armor and pulled out a set of restraints.

  One of the tants tried to rise, and Butterfield fired just over its shoulder.

  Zapp. The yellow beam punched a hole in the softer veneer of the wall. The tant returned to its place.

  Restraining the two tants to the utility pipes, Butterfield moved back to the hallway. There she spotted the security automacube spraying down the corridor with extinguisher foam. The corridor was a fried and blackened mess, and the lighting in the ceiling was blown out for a long distance.

  “Security automacube! Report!” Butterfield yelled out, and her hearing was partially returning.

  The foam quit spraying and the machine shifted on its wheels and rolled toward Butterfield. Its mechanical voice replied, “Captives are secure in room R207F. Transmission systems damaged, and only auditory communication systems remain.”

  “You caught Ken?” Butterfield ejaculated out the words. “Really?”

  “Affirmative. Ken was captured, as was Janae. They are in restraints in room R207F.”

  “Excellent. Go over that way and retrieve the two tants I took prisoner, then meet me in R207F,” Butterfield smiled broadly as she commanded. “Hurry, as we will be leaving now.”

  “Understood.” The automacube rolled away.

  Butterfield sprinted down the wrecked corridor, and her hearing was coming back past even more. She could hear the ventilation fans whirring in the ceiling as they were pulling the smoke from the corridor, and forcing fresh air back in. As she reached a bulkhead, she saw the blackened side of the door, but it still slid into its pocket. Beyond, the corridor was less damaged, and she could read the numbers on the walls which indicated she was near the room R207F.

  Pushing open the door, Butterfield saw Ken and Janae sitting on the floor, bound together, back-to-back, with their hands tied over their head and connected to an upright post.

  “Ken, dearest one, pretty man. I have found you,” Butterfield gushed. “And while you have gone primitive, you still look good.”

  Ken looked up, and his one eye was swollen shut, and he was groggy. “Not you again.”

  “Yes, sweet thing, I have come for you.”

  “Butterfield, the painted, pathetic, pathological, petulant, peon,” Janae huffed out. “I thought you might be part of this.”

  “Janae, how pleasant to see you well. It has been far too long since you knew my hospitality, and the Benefactor is so eager to reacquaint himself with you both,” Butterfield clapped her hands in joy, but the energy weapon remained aimed at them. “Marvelous, simply marvelous. And I even saved you from tants again. Oh, no need to thank me, it is the least I can do for one of my little men.” She knelt down and squeezed Ken’s cheek, and then tapped his nose. “You were prettier last time I saw you, but that is easily remedied.”

  “Your security thug surprised us, or you would never have seen us again,” Ken responded. “It knocked me senseless, fell to the deck, or I would have destroyed it.”

  Butterfield laughed, “You and your toys, with such dreams of greatness. Come now, stand up and I will escort you home where you belong. Your furlough is over, and you are back with me now.”

  Butterfield disconnected them from the anchoring restraints, but they were still cuffed at the wrists, and had short chains between the shackles on their ankles. As they stood up, Janae tried to slam herself into Butterfield, but the riot armor protected her.

  “Such fury should be better directed,” Butterfield commented. “You will have to see the adjustment counselors, and then study under a good ratiocinationist to help you overcome your ordeal. Never fret, counseling will help you.”

  Janae spat and struggled mightily against the restraints, screaming out, “Counselors! Oh, just kill me now, you red-faced freak! Or, let me loose and I will kill you!” The bonds held, but Janae’s hands were white from the exertion.

  “Ken, my sweet, this one has a temper, yes, she does. Traumatized by those nasty tants no doubt has left her out of touch with reality. Alas, I am a civilized and cultured person. You both have my pity, and I am pleased to have saved you. I know you primitives are being used by some high-tech group somewhere—forced beyond your grasp—and I plan to get at the bottom of that, but for now, we return to Ida to get you resettled. Come along.” Butterfield shoved at Ken with the clear shield. He stumbled along toward the hallway.

  “Butterfield? Please, just let us go,” Ken said.

  “Dear man, I care too much for you to let that happen, again. Please move along.” Butterfield aimed the energy weapon,

  Stretching up as best he could, Ken tapped the area by his ear, and activated his internal communication link to Kimberly. The security automacube had confiscated all their external gear—while they were unconscious—after being hit by the stunners.

  “I am here, Ken,” Kimberly’s artificial voice came into his ear, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “I cannot link to your comlink… comlink…”

  “Butterfield? Am I to just be your slave? You have captured Janae and me, and we are in chains,” Ken asked, more for Kimberly’s hearing than anything Butterfield might do or say. “We did not even get out of the Isle of Pine’s shell, and we just wanted to go to homebase, or back to our scout ship. How did you locate us?”

  Butterfield said something in reply, but Ken missed it as Kimberly spoke again, “Captured? Slave? Go seek the soul refined and strong. Such aids my wildest power of song… of song… For those I strike the rustic lyre, who share… who share… who do inspire, inquire, do hire? I am trying to… make repairs. But the transports they inspire… inspire… inspire… It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall… to call… to ball… to maul… bruins do call? Help will… will fall.”

  Ken deliberately stumbled and pushed his ear again to shut off Kimberly’s rampant mutterings. His head hurt, and the nonsense the AI was speaking just irritated it all.

  Butterfield looked closely at Ken’s ear, and said, “Sweet little man, does your ear or head hurt? You did take a serious smack to the head, and I will have a doctor look at that,” Butterfield said, and gently pushed Ken’s hands down with the muzzle of the energy weapon.

  The red automacube rolled out, with both tants on a line behind it. The tants were shackled hand and foot, and the line was bolted around collars strapped to their necks. Their injuries were hindering their walking, but the security automacube pulled them along anyway.

  “I am Jasmine-Tahir! Release me now you foul norm! You have already killed most of my friends, and you do not even belong here! We came here to get food for a baby. You are from Ida, by the looks of your armor and weapons, the same scummy place who discarded our newest tant. Why are you here? Come to gloat over your wickedness?”

  “I owe no answer to any worthless tant,” Butterfield replied. “I have even rescued these people who you were abusing.”

  Jasmine-Tahir taunted back, “If we had known high-tech norms were here, we would have been better armed, but next time! Tants have access to all habitats, and you are stuck in your pathetic little spaceplanes, flying on your space ways. We tants can get to every habitat easily. We are coming for you now. All you norms! We will deceive you, trick you, trap you, and make your life miserable. Terror is coming to norms everywhere. Everywhere! Nothing you can do to stop that. Just try to come to Axis Mundi sometime, then you will see who is worthless. Yes, we will get you norms, and get all the supplies we need. Beware, for we tants are everywhere!”

  Zapp.

  “End of prattle.” The brilliant yellow beam shot from Butterfield’s weapon and pierced the forehead of Jasmine-Tahir, killin
g the tant instantly. Butterfield had reduced the yield of the weapon’s discharge, and the beam did not even exit the tant’s skull, but did burn a hole—the size of an eye—directly above the tant’s misshapen nose. “You do not incite terror in me. Not at all. Your friends might try again, stubborn as all you deformed tants are, but you will not terrorize me,” Butterfield snapped. Turning to the surviving tant, she said, “You do not die today. You will be one of our heroes, and get a personal meeting with Apis, through his representative Francesco the Fierce. Our Benefactor himself may come and watch you perform.”

  The surviving tant just stood there, not showing any signs of emotion.

  Ken cried out, “You are a disgusting animal!”

  Butterfield just gave Ken an odd look, but said nothing.

  “There are crazed animal things everywhere, here. The Trailblazer is full of crazed animal things. The worst are the ones that look like humans,” Janae added.