by M. R. Forbes
Did he have the skills to do it? He wasn’t a soldier. He was a Sheriff. He had some hand-to-hand training and some weapons training, but most of his skillset revolved around solving problems and managing people, and he was alone out here.
Then again, the soldiers who had fought the xenotrife hadn’t exactly done an incredible job.
Maybe a Sheriff could succeed where they had failed.
31
It took Hayden nearly an hour to cover half a kilometer of corridors, picking his way slowly through the Pilgrim, before he came across his first body.
Or rather, what was left of it.
He was positioned against the side of the corridor, a soldier in body armor that matched his, time having reduced his to little more than a skeleton. His rifle lay beside an outstretched hand, his helmet across the hallway, his body armor torn in multiple places by multiple sets of claws. The fact that the xenotrife didn’t feed on their kills still confused him. What did they eat, if not the meat of the dead? How did they continue to survive on board?
That thought also reminded him that he hadn’t brought any food or water with him. Was there any to be found out here? Could he eat the demons, if it came down to that?
He knelt beside the remains, picking up the rifle. It was powered on, but the display was dark. Whatever battery kept it functional, it was dead. He searched the corpse for anything else he might be able to use, noting the name on the chest. Bower. He tried to remember if there were any Bowers in Metro. It was impossible to know everyone. He didn’t think so. This man had died before he could carry his generation forward.
He stood and continued forward. The passage was moving in what he would have called north in Metro. That meant he was likely on a deck below the hatch to Section C. He wanted to find a lift or a stairwell or some other way to ascend a level and return to the scene of Natalia’s disappearance, in hope there would be a clue to guide him further. He had only come across a pair of doorways so far, and they had both led into empty storage rooms. It seemed odd to Hayden that the ship had spaces that weren’t being utilized, but maybe all of the supplies that had once been located in the rooms had been moved to Metro? It made sense that equipment would have been consolidated.
There was no sign of more of the xenotrife so far. He stopped every few steps to listen, and while the tapping had paused and resumed, the clicking of thick feet against the metal surfaces had yet to repeat itself.
He traveled down the corridor, reaching another junction in the passages. He swept the rifle across each, taking his time to ensure nothing was hiding in the shadows cast by the dim emergency lighting. To his left, he noticed another pair of bodies. More soldiers. These had other skeletons on the ground around them, the skulls revealing them as xenotrife. So the soldiers had at least managed to kill some of them. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It was obvious they had been overwhelmed.
He had to decide which direction to move. He needed a way to the next deck. He turned a circle in the intersection before noticing a plate on one of the walls. He had seen similar plates inside Engineering, which often contained the section codes and directions to other parts of the ship. This one had been scratched at so thoroughly that if it had ever contained writing, it was illegible now. It had been done intentionally. By who? Why? Were the xenotrife intelligent enough to remove the labels in an effort to confuse the soldiers?
The fact there was a plate at all suggested there was something of value down either of the two corridors. He decided to head past the dead soldiers, figuring they had died in an effort to defend something from the creatures. He paused again to search them. He also paused to examine the xenotrife’s remains.
Their skulls were much larger than their bodies, and it became immediately obvious their bones were hollow instead of solid because whatever material was inside had deteriorated away over time. They had four long fingers on each hand with four joints to give them a tighter grip and no apparent thumbs. Their feet were small, but the toes on them were large, again with extra joints for dexterity, spread out for balance. Their midsection was narrow and long, and they had ribs with large gaps between them, important to remember the next time he needed to use Baby.
He couldn’t tell from the bones what they used for sustenance, or what other skills they might have. He had seen them climb, and he had seen them hide in darkness. Their frames suggested they might be able to squeeze into small spaces, and possibly even flex their bones. Someone from Medical could probably tell him a lot more about it, but that wasn’t a possibility.
He moved beyond them, continuing down the passage, heading in what he decided to call east. Whether that was the port or starboard side of the Pilgrim was still unclear, because he didn’t know if Metro’s north faced the bow or the stern. He reasoned that there would be multiple access points to the other decks of the ship and that they would be positioned equidistant from one side of the hull inward and across to the other. By heading lateral toward the hull, he should come across a stairwell or lift, or at least an outer corridor that did lead to a way up.
He made it a few hundred meters down the corridor when he heard a sound from somewhere nearby. It wasn’t the clacking of claws on metal like before. It was more of a rubbing sound, a whispered hint of movement. His eyes landed on a hatch a few meters ahead. It was hanging open fifteen centimeters or so. Not enough for him to fit through, but possibly large enough for a xenotrife to enter.
He stopped and considered turning around and going back the other way, heading west instead. It would cost him time, and who was to say that direction was any safer? He had to try to slip past the door unnoticed. Was that even possible? He didn’t know if the creatures were attracted to sound or smell or sight or all three.
He put the rifle on his back, switching to Baby and the pistol instead. If anything came out of the door as he passed, he wouldn’t have time to aim the larger weapon. He crept slowly toward it, drawing nearer. The rubbing sound continued, joined by a hissing noise that he recognized. There were definitely demons in there. He lifted his feet slowly, taking careful, silent steps, ears focused on any changes to the sounds in the room.
He froze when he reached the opening. There was a small amount of light filtering out of the room. He leaned his head forward to look inside. It was a risk, but the more he knew about the creatures, the better. Knowing your enemy was a timeless piece of advice.
He saw the dark, leathery flesh of the xenotrife. Enough of it pressed together that he couldn’t identify one creature from another. They were in the center of the room, which had a few metal boxes stacked in the corner he could see. Supplies the Pilgrim’s crew hadn’t been able to claim. Was there food in there? Water? Something else? There had to be a dozen of the creatures at least, writhing and slithering against one another, creating the rubbing sound he had heard.
A fluid of some kind was running between them, clear and thick and sticky, secreted from some part of the xenotrife and spread along one another’s flesh. It seemed to be coating them and making their skin look more hydrated and supple. Were they copulating? Was the fluid their food? He had no idea, but it was disgusting.
He shifted back from the door to continue beyond it.
A heavy, stinking breath wafted across the side of his face.
32
The claws hit him a moment later, catching the rifle and armor plating across his back and sending him lurching forward. His body hit the partially open door hard, bouncing him off it and pushing it open further, disrupting the orgy of whatever taking place inside.
A cacophony of hisses followed, the interruption gaining the xenotrife’s attention. Hayden stumbled, desperate to recover, getting his attention on his attacker as a fresh swipe of claws angled for his unprotected neck.
Baby swished through the air, the blade reaching out and smashing into the demon’s outstretched hand, cutting easily through its hollow bones and severing the limb. The creature hissed in pain, dropping back a step, its head turnin
g in the direction of the doorway.
The first of the xenotrife emerged. Its head turned to Hayden, small eyes noticing him. Then it changed its focus to the injured demon. It pounced on the creature, and they both fell away in a twisting whirl of dark flesh.
Hayden backed away, knowing the other creatures would join them in seconds. He dropped his weapons to his hips, thankful he didn’t need to locate them exactly for them to lock into place. He grabbed the rifle on his back as he continued to retreat. There was a score in the back from the demon’s claws, but it hummed when he switched it on.
Two more xenotrife emerged from the room. They were slick with the fluid, which hung from their bodies like lines of spittle. They ignored Hayden, piling onto the creature he had damaged, helping the first end its life.
The others charged into the corridor, one after another, slowed by the substance that joined them together. They hissed and bore their teeth at Hayden, flexing their legs to attack.
He found the secondary trigger on the rifle, assuming it would fire whatever ammunition was in the larger magazine. He squeezed it once, hearing a heavy thunk as a round ball burst out of the hole, hitting one of the demons square in the chest with enough force to knock it back and get embedded in its ribs.
It looked down at the dull grey sphere.
Then it exploded.
The detonation caused a flash of light that blinded Hayden, leaving him unable to see the aftermath of the attack. Instead, he felt the force of the blast catch him and throw him backward. He felt the impact of bones and flesh and blood and slime slapping against his armor and face. He felt the whole corridor vibrate from the shockwave, and he heard the deafening echo of it ripple around him.
He landed on his back. He blinked a few times in an effort to restore his vision, suddenly panicked that it was lost for good. What if he hadn’t killed them all? What it more of them were drawn to the immense noise he had created? He rolled over, feeling the floor, crawling along it until he found the wall. He made it to his feet, still blinking. He began to see the blurry shape of the corridor as his eyes started to adjust. Not blind. At least he wasn’t blind.
What the hell kind of munition had he fired? He had never seen anything like it before. He imagined that if he used it in the wrong place, he could cause catastrophic damage to the Pilgrim. He needed to be careful how he used it, or if he ever used it again.
His eyes continued to clear. He tried to listen, but his ears were ringing, too. If more of the xenotrife were on their way, he would never be able to stop them from ripping his throat out. He needed to hide.
He stumbled forward, back toward the damage. He cursed as he reached a hot spot on the wall, burning his fingers and pulling his hand back. He wanted to get into the room where they had been, hopeful he could wait in there until his senses returned. The whole scene was a blur of pieces of the creatures, fluids, and scorch marks. He hurried forward, finding the hatch. It was bent half off its hinges and had pieces of shrapnel digging into it. He slipped inside, using the butt of the rifle to shove it closed as far as it would go. The explosion had killed the light in the room, leaving him with only the weapon’s display for illumination. He quickly shut it off, settling into the dark.
Stupid. He had been stupid, getting too caught up in watching the creatures and losing awareness of his surroundings. It had almost cost him his life. He was lucky it had hit him in the back, instead of going for his neck. But was it luck? The creatures seemed smarter than that. They knew where to aim to get between the armor and the helmets the soldiers wore. It seemed almost like it wanted to fight him face to face.
And the way the others had attacked it when it was injured. What did that mean? They didn’t suffer weakness among them. Or maybe they were in competition? Territorial? Did they feel more threatened by another of their kind than they did by him? And what had they been doing in here?
He reached up to his face, feeling the sticky substance on it. He scraped at it, pulling it away. It smelled sweet, as though it was made of sugar. He wiped it on the armor, cleaning off his face. He hoped it wasn’t some kind of reproductive fluid.
He leaned back, keeping his eyes open. The white light of his blindness was fading, sparkles of it bursting across his retina in slowing, less dense patterns. The room was nearly pitch black, with only a sliver of light making it in from beyond the damaged door.
He waited.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty. His ears recovered. So did his eyes. He could see the metal crates against the wall, a line of nearly fifty of them. He could see the center of the floor where the xenotrife had been gathered. A pile of goop had been placed there, nearly a meter high. There were small, clear bulbs within it, with dark blotches at the centers.
He turned on the rifle to add more light from the display, adjusting it to shine into the mass. He drew back at the sight of the tiny xenotrife shifting within the gel. Babies. He had stumbled across a nest.
He felt nauseous. He was tempted to destroy the nest, but it was obvious these creatures were nowhere near ready to do him harm, and he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. He returned his attention to the crates, approaching a stack and pulling one from the top, placing it on the floor. He put the rifle on his back and used Baby to leverage open the lid.
It was filled with small, wrapped squares. Each one had an eagle logo on it, and the letters M-R-E beneath. He picked one up and tore it open, giving it a sniff. His body told him it was food, so he took a bite. It was dry and chewy, but not bad. He downed it, and then took a few more, replacing one of the larger magazines in the extrusions on his armor for the sustenance. He was sure he wouldn’t need that many of the explosive spheres anyway.
He gave himself a few more minutes to recover, and then returned to the hatch, moving slowly back into the corridor. He could see the full extent of the mess he had made now, and it caused him to almost lose the ration he had just downed. At the same time, he was proud of himself.
Hayden seventeen, demons zero.
33
He was lucky. The path remained clear as he crossed the width of the Pilgrim, finally arriving at the end of a long corridor and the closed doors of a between-decks lift. He was afraid the noise of the explosion would have brought a mass of the demons to him, but it seemed the opposite was true. Did the creatures have experience with the spherical rounds? Did they know to stay away? Or were they more like hunters, playing a game with him and letting him think he was doing well?
Whatever it was, he was grateful to cover some ground without having to fight for his life, and when he reached the lift doors, he sighed audibly, feeling as though Natalia was that much closer to his reach.
He put his hand on the control panel, tapping it to order the elevator inside to his deck, whichever deck it was.
He was only partially surprised when the panel didn’t respond. Maybe it had been functional once. It was dead now. He would need to find the stairs. He didn’t mind. It was a minor setback compared to the events he had already survived.
He made his way past the lift, reaching another intersection. He went a dozen meters along it before identifying the emergency stairwell by a faded plate on the floor nearby. Most of the writing had been scratched off, but the red background was a strong clue.
He pushed the door open slowly, leading with the muzzle of the rifle, and sweeping up and down as he entered. The stairs were dark, darker than the corridors, and bathed in an eerie green light. Each section of risers ended at a small platform and ninety-degree turn, wrapping around one another in a dull metal grating that didn’t leave much clearance over his head. There was a corpse on the steps beside him. Not a soldier this time. A crew member in a USSF uniform, their head lolled to the side, throat slashed. The name on the chest was Lao.
There was blood on the stairwell wall behind Lao, a dark, dry, ancient splatter that fit with the crew member’s wound. Hayden was becoming accustomed to seeing the violence, and he moved past it without the earlier na
usea, starting the climb toward Section C. How was he going to know when he was on the right floor? He knew he had to be at least three or four decks below the Section, based on the relationship between Engineering and Metro, and Metro and the secret underground stash. He was sure he would know when he found the right hatch.
It would be the one with the bloody handprint below it.
He started climbing, taking the stairs one at a time, careful not to make too much noise. He came across two more bodies on the steps, one soldier and one crew member, as well as a few remains of xenotrife. He had to step over the soldier, skipping two steps to get past.
He was nearing the door on the third deck when he froze, an echoing click sounding above him. He looked up through the flooring, able to just barely make out the bottom of one of the doors on an upper deck slowly swinging open. He stared at the space, unable to see anything joining him on the stairs before the door signaled its closure again.
He took a couple of steps on the ascent before freezing again. A sound was echoing down from the steps above. Footsteps, one after another in a cadence that matched human feet.
His heart leaped out ahead of him, and he drew in a breath, ready to throw away any thought of caution, There was nobody else alive out here. It had to be Natalia!
“Nat,” he shouted, his voice echoing in the shaft. “Nat, it’s me. Nat. Wait.”
He bounded up the steps, taking them two or three at a time. He could hear the other footfalls between bounces. They had picked up speed, trying to escape.
