by Simon Kewin
*
The attack, when it came, was ferocious. The inner airlock door had only just closed behind him when the Draconian lunged, slashing at his body with a suddenly huge claw. Mackenzie had a moment to react and, boosted by the suit, managed to partly avoid the blow. Nevertheless, the claw punctured his suit with a long, ragged rip near his left shoulder. Intense, sickening pain told him his arm had been struck too. It felt like his arm was being wrenched off as the Draconian withdrew.
A variety of alarms went off, warning him of the damage to his body and of the breach in the suit's internal environment. Automated system responded to repair the damage, sealing off compromised sections, injecting him with painkillers, broad-spectrum protective drugs and short-term metabolic boosters.
He had only a moment to take all this in before the Draconian was charging at him again, all its spiked limbs whirling and lunging like some demented machine. Why was it attacking? It didn't make sense; he would soon be dead anyway so far as the Draconian knew. He had to try to understand the alien's motives; perhaps it would give him some tactical edge.
He forced himself to stand still as the alien charged, then fired all his suit's weaponry at once. The force blasted the Draconian backwards, smashing it into the bulkhead behind it. Mackenzie had a moment to consider his options. Off to his right, the outer bulkhead door was opening. Somewhere out there, hopefully, was the Higher Than The Sun. If he could get outside ...
Then the Draconian charged again, some blackened burn marks on its carapace the only damage.
Mackenzie fired all his weapons again. This time more warnings came up; the suit, damaged by the initial blow, was running low on power. The Draconian was knocked backwards again. It was probably just having fun, Mackenzie thought. Yes. This was how a Draconian would choose to spend the last few minutes of its existence. Killing something for pleasure.
It charged once more and again Mackenzie stood to meet it. It occurred to him that with the alien’s old wound, both of them had one useless arm now. A strangely satisfying thought. He fired for a third time. This time the blast was noticeably weaker, and the Draconian kept on coming, flailing its brutally serrated claws before it.
Mackenzie tried to dodge, dropping and rolling towards the outer door. The Draconian hit him twice, three times more, sending him reeling.
For a second he lost consciousness. More boosters kicked in. He lay on the floor. Alarms screamed at him, too many to take in at once. He felt pain in many places; too many to identify just now. He looked up at the Draconian, two great spiked limbs raised over him for the death-blow.
A white blast of light lanced into the creature’s body then: four parallel streams of intense beam-weapon fire. The alien actually screamed, soundlessly, as it was knocked backwards and over. The combat avatar hurtled into the airlock at speed, still accelerating, steering directly at the Draconian. It unleashed another salvo of beam-weapon fire before smashing into the Draconian’s body.
Mackenzie didn’t wait to see who would get up. Time was short. Somewhere out there was the Higher Than The Sun. He crawled to the outer airlock door and fell over the edge into space.
The EVA pod was there waiting for him. He hooked a stiff, clumsy arm through one of the anchor-points and accelerated away from Isiur. He shut his eyes then, fatigue filling him as the drugs started to lose their edge. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply.
The pod jerked slightly. He tried to ignore it, then opened his eyes in sudden alarm. The Draconian, badly broken and burnt, was free of Isiur and had caught hold of one of the tethers still attached to the pod.
Mackenzie checked his suit’s reserves. There was little left, enough to get him back and work on his injuries, little more. The pod had no weapons. He looked around him, hoping to see the Higher Than The Sun, but there was still no sign. Perhaps the ship had been destroyed in the battle.
The creature was slowly, awkwardly hauling itself up the tether. Most of its limbed seemed to be broken and useless now, but still it came. It would soon reach him. Suddenly desperate, Mackenzie set about releasing that line from the pod, overriding safety catches with panicky, clumsy fingers.
The procedure nearly complete, he looked up. The Draconian had stopped, as if considering what he was doing. Then, even as Mackenzie was releasing the line, it heaved hard, thrusting itself forwards through space towards the pod.
With its greater velocity, it would reach him in just a few seconds. Mackenzie had no time to steer the pod as the Draconian closed in on him. Unable to think of anything else to do, he drew a short cutting knife from the holster on his leg and held it ready, knowing it was useless, knowing it was futile anyway since Isiur must be mere moments from detonation.
The Draconian lifted its one good limb and scythed it forward towards Mackenzie, just as it had done in the cell back on board.
The beam-weapon blast was much bigger this time. A broad bar of terrible, seething energy lanced past his head and into the Draconian. The creature, struck in the torso, was hurled, burning, off into space.
Mackenzie turned to see the massive, beautiful bulk of the Higher Than The Sun sitting just a little way off.
‘Medical avatars will be ready to meet you. Are you the only survivor?’
‘I am.’
