Theogony 3: Terra Stands Alone

by Chris Kennedy

  Dantone pulled out the short sword, and the Drakul fell to the floor. He swept out a hand toward the stairs. “All yours, Master Chief,” he said.

  Master Chief ran up the last flight of stairs and looked carefully into the passageway. One Drakul could be seen going away from them. It went through a door and was gone.

  The doorway to the bridge was just to their left. It was ajar; the last person in hadn’t noticed that a piece of plastic, negligently discarded as part of the replication process, kept it from closing all the way. It sounded like a beehive of activity on the bridge, with contradictory orders being shouted by a number of voices.

  “Cast us off!” a voice yelled.

  “We can’t!” another voice replied. “We don’t have a qualified engineer.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” the first voice answered. It looked up in surprise as two cyborgs strode onto the bridge.

  “I love a target rich environment,” said Staff Sergeant Randolph, firing a burst of 20mm shells from his Mrowry auto cannon into the Drakul that was trying to take charge.

  “Plenty of ‘em here,” agreed Staff Sergeant Dantone, putting a burst of 20mm shells from his pulse rifle into the other Drakul that had been arguing with the first. The eight other Drakuls on the bridge stopped what they were doing at the sound of gunfire and began pulling out weapons.

  “Just another day on the target range,” Randolph said, shifting targets from his second target to his third. The second no longer had a head; it seemed a waste of ammo to continue shooting it.

  “Save some for me,” Dantone said, shifting to his own third target. The second had a huge blue hole in its chest, and most of its internal organs were now external.

  A laser beam glanced off Staff Sergeant Randolph, but Master Chief killed the Drakul before it could shoot again. As the rest of the squad poured onto the bridge, the remaining Drakuls were quickly put down.

  “Now that made the whole cyborg conversion process worthwhile!” Randolph said in glee.

  “Yeah, it did,” agreed Dantone. He turned toward Calvin. “What next, sir?”

  “Guard the door,” said Calvin, as he got an incoming comm.

  “Calvin, Night,” his XO transmitted.

  “Go ahead,” Calvin replied.

  “We’ve got the control center,” Night commed. “You’re never going to believe this, but all of the doors lock from here. The replicator was built to have a minimal staff, so all of the passageway doors and damage control stations can be controlled from here. We’ve locked the Drakuls down. Assuming they don’t have a torch or a space suit, they’re not going anywhere. There are also cameras in most of the spaces, so we can tell where they are and what they’re doing.”

  “Good,” replied Calvin. “Take whatever steps you think are necessary to secure the replicator. We’ve got control of the bridge here, but there isn’t any sort of camera system onboard, so we don’t know where any of the Drakuls are. I am going to send a group to secure engineering. If you get some extra hands, please send them over. This thing’s huge!”

  “I’ll send what I can,” agreed Night, “but I could use a cyborg to help with clearance for a short while.”

  “I’ll send Staff Sergeant Dantone back,” Calvin replied. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Night said. “One more thing. Azrael recommends making an announcement over the ship’s intercom. He says to tell everyone onboard that you have taken the ship and that anyone that wants to kill Drakuls is free to do so. If they don’t want to kill the Drakuls themselves, tell them to call you on the bridge, and you’ll send a unit down to do it for them. There should be a large number of non-Drakuls onboard; put them to work for you.”

  “Roger, that,” replied Calvin. “Good info, we’ll give it a shot. Calvin out.”

  He glanced around the bridge at the array of consoles. “Jones, Rozhkov, see if you can find the intercom system. We need to talk to the crew.”

  “Me?” asked Bob ‘Danger’ Jones. “I’ve got a microphone, but have no idea where to plug it in here.”

  “No, dipshit, he meant Jones the spy, not Jones the reporter,” said Master Chief. “As far as plugging it in goes, I’m sure I can help you find somewhere to shove it, if that’s an issue.”

  “Nope, not an issue, Master Chief,” said Danger. “I’ll just be over here out of the way if you need me.”

  “Found it,” called Irina Rozhkov, standing next to a dead Drakul that was wearing the remains of a headset on the remains of its head.

  “Really?” asked Mr. Jones, walking up.

  “Da,” Rozhkov said, pointing at the panel. “It is just like the one in the asteroid.” She pushed a couple of buttons. “Testing, odin, dva, tri,” she said in Russian.

  “They can hear you in the hallway,” said Staff Sergeant Dantone from the doorway as he left to join the group on the replicator.

  Rozhkov pointed to a green button. “Just push the button and talk, sir,” she said.

  Calvin took a deep breath and pushed the button. Using his implant to translate into the Drakul language, he said, “Attention throughout the ship! This is Lieutenant Commander Hobbs of the Terran Space Force. We have captured this ship, and I am declaring open season on the Drakuls. If you are not a Drakul, feel free to either kill any of them that you see, or call the bridge, and we will do it for you. If you are a Drakul, you have five minutes to come to the bridge and turn yourself in; otherwise, we will consider you an enemy combatant and shoot you on sight. If you choose to exercise this option, place both hands on your head and walk to the bridge. You have five minutes; your time starts now.” He repeated the message.

  “Think any of them will give up?” asked Master Chief.

  “No,” answered Calvin, “I don’t. Would you, in their place?”

  “Hell, no, I wouldn’t!” replied Master Chief. “I’d figure out a way to overload the engines and...holy shit.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” said Calvin. “That’s why I want you to take Randolph, Wraith, Witch, Mr. Jones, Miss Rozhkov and Jet and go make a sweep of the engine rooms. I have a feeling that you’ll find the rest of the Drakuls on the ship down there. Go stop them.”

  “Can I go, too?” asked Bob ‘Danger’ Jones. “It looks like that’s where the story is.”

  “Sure,” said Calvin with a smile, knowing Master Chief wouldn’t want the cameraman along. “Be my guest.” He turned to find Master Chief looking at him with a pained expression.

  “You know the engine rooms are well over a mile from here, right?” asked Master Chief.

  “Yep,” replied Calvin. “They’re probably closer to two. That’s why you’d better hurry. Good thing you’re in shape; I’d probably pass out along the way.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow at Master Chief and asked, “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

  “No, sir, damn it, I’m not,” replied Master Chief. “Randolph, Wraith, and every other damned person he just said, let’s go.” Calvin heard him mumble as he went out the door, “A fucking master chief’s job is never done.”

  Calvin smiled. A grumbling master chief was a happy master chief.

  Task Force Rrower, Nearing the Engine Room, 54 Piscium, February 24, 2021

  Lieutenant Rrower surveyed the collection of exterminators spread out across the passageway. He couldn’t call them ‘soldiers,’ as one was a priest and another was a Psiclops civilian. For that matter he was part of the Mrowry fleet, and therefore technically a sailor, not a soldier. Regardless of their normal occupations, they all looked focused and ready. “Open the door,” he commed.

  The giant steel door that went across the passageway opened from the left. As the door reached the half-way point, two Drakuls came from behind it and charged down the passageway. Their charge surprised no one, as the same thing had already happened three times previously.

  The two Drakuls only covered half of the distance before they were exterminated. It helped a lot that Staff Sergeant Dantone had come o
ver to join them. His 20mm pulse rifle was very helpful in killing Drakuls.

  “Two hostiles down,” Lieutenant Rrower commed, “Proceeding up the passageway.”

  “Your destination is just past the next blast door,” replied Azrael from the control center. “All of the cameras have been destroyed beyond the door, so I can’t tell you what’s there.”

  “Understood,” Rrower said.

  Rrower knew the Terrans wanted the Drakuls cleared out of the replicator before they could do anything to destroy it. If things worked out for them, the Terrans hoped to take the replicator home with them at the end of the war. Assuming there was still a Terra to take the replicator home to.

  He looked again at the group he commanded. In addition to Dantone, Father Zuhlsdorf and Steropes, he only had Sergeant Zoromski and Havildar Rajesh Patel. It wouldn’t be enough if they ran into a big group of Drakuls.

  The group continued up the passageway to the next door, and the group took their positions without being told. “Ready for the next door,” he commed.

  The giant steel door rolled aside to reveal an empty passageway that ended in a door.

  “You said the cameras are out beyond here?” asked Lieutenant Rrower.

  “That is correct,” Azrael replied. “There must be Drakuls somewhere beyond there.”

  “Well, they’re not in the hall,” noted Rrower, “so they must be in the room at the end of the passageway. Any idea what’s in it?”

  “It’s marked as a storeroom,” Azrael answered, looking at a schematic in the control room. “There could be almost anything in there. Rare metals for the replicator, food, other stores for the crew...” His voice trailed off.

  “What about weapons and explosives?” asked Rrower.

  “There could be some of those, too,” Azrael admitted. “Like I said, there could be almost anything in there.”

  “I guess it’s too much to hope for that the storeroom contains a lack of Drakuls?” asked Sergeant Zoromski out loud.

  “I expect so,” Rrower said. “Something in there destroyed the camera. Any guesses?”

  “Divine intervention?” asked Zoromski, raising an eyebrow at Father Zuhsldorf.

  The priest shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied.

  Lieutenant Rrower inspected the door. It was a damage control door that had a round handle which had to be spun to open it. Whatever was inside the door would know they were coming. Not good.

  He moved half of his force to each side before spinning the unlocking mechanism. Nothing happened, and the door unlocked; so far so good. Stepping to the side, he pushed it open with the muzzle of his rifle and was rewarded with five or six laser bolts that passed through the space where he would have been standing. Obviously, there were creatures inside that wished him ill.

  “Staff Sergeant Dantone, I don’t think they want us to come in,” he remarked. “Perhaps we didn’t announce ourselves well enough. Could you throw a few calling cards into the room?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied The Wall. He walked up to the side of the door, unclipping grenades from his combat harness. Special grenades that had been modified for cyborgs, he could hold each with a finger. He loaded four into his right hand and pulled the pins on them. “Fire in the hole,” he warned as he swung his arm into the doorway, releasing each finger sequentially to send the grenades out in a spread pattern. There was a cry of alarm from the room, and then the grenades exploded, blowing a spray of some kind of white fluff back out the door.

  “Me first?” asked Dantone.

  “Be my guest,” replied Lieutenant Rrower.

  Drawing a mental breath, the cyborg stepped into the doorway with his pulse rifle ready in his right hand and a laser pistol in his left. He surveyed the mess he had made for a couple of seconds, prior to stepping into the room. The majority of the storage space had been used for storing bedding, and pieces were everywhere, with some sort of downy material floating like a snowstorm throughout the room. There were scorch marks and hotspots scattered throughout the 50 foot square room; at least four places were on fire.

  He stepped forward, looking for other heat spots that indicated Drakuls that were still alive, but it was difficult to find them with the fires burning in the room. One Drakul rose up at the back of the room; he dispatched it with a burst of five 20mm rounds through the center of its chest.

  The rest of the group charged in to see the Drakul falling backward. “Is that it?” asked Lieutenant Rrower, who had been expecting more resistance.

  “It appears so,” replied Staff Sergeant Dantone as he walked further into the room.

  “Well, let’s search the room and make sure they’re all dead,” replied Rrower. “There must have been something here they wanted.”

  The group spread out, trying to discover what the Drakuls had been doing.

  “I found one,” said Father Zuhlsdorf. “I can see a Drakul leg sticking out of a pile of bedding. Lots of blood all around it.”

  Staff Sergeant Dantone moved to stand next to the priest and pulled out his short sword. “Yep, looks like a frog leg,” he said. “Want me to cut it off or throw off the bedding and shoot it?” he asked.

  The rest of the group came to stand nearby. “Why don’t you cut it off and see what happens,” said Lieutenant Rrower, looking at the blue puddle. “That way, we have the initiative. It looks like it’s already lost a lot of blood.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Dantone said. Raising his sword, he chopped down on the foot, which fell out from under the mattress with about six inches of leg still attached. “What the hell?” he asked.

  “Ugh,” said Father Zuhlsdorf, the breath driven from his body. He looked down to find a foot long piece of pipe sticking out of his chest. “Help...”

  The group turned to find a Drakul on its knees behind the priest, having risen out of the pile of bedding where it had hidden. It pulled the sharpened length of pipe back out of the priest and swung it like a baseball bat, hitting him in the head and knocking him aside. It turned to swing the pipe at Staff Sergeant Dantone, who blocked it with his left hand while stabbing forward with his sword.

  As Dantone stabbed the creature, he saw it was the Drakul missing its foot. Already weak from loss of blood, it fell backward into the pile of bedding with Dantone’s sword stuck through its throat.

  Lieutenant Rrower didn’t have one of the Terran helmets that showed squad member’s health status, but he could tell the priest was mortally wounded. As he leaned down to inspect the wound, he saw movement at the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw a Drakul running toward to the door, holding something in its arms. “Look out!” he yelled.

  The only member of the group who was close was Steropes, who had shouldered his rifle. Knowing he didn’t have time to bring it to bear, he bent over and grabbed one of the pieces of piping scattered throughout the room. Without standing up, he threw it underhand at the Drakul as it reached the door. Although it didn’t hit the monster, it went between his legs and tripped him up as the ends caught on the doorway.

  Whatever the Drakul had been carrying went flying down the passageway as the Drakul went headfirst out the door. Trying to follow up on his advantage, Steropes charged the creature, drawing his sword as he ran. Reaching the Drakul, he swung, but the Drakul had already drawn its knife and blocked Steropes’ slash. Catching Steropes’ sword on the knife’s guard, it pushed upward, and Steropes fell back, giving the Drakul time and space to get up.

  Steropes saw the Drakul edging toward the object it dropped, and he ran to block the Drakul from getting to it. “The Drakul’s mine,” said Steropes as Dantone stepped into the doorway with his pulse rifle drawn. “Leave it to me.”

  While he was talking, the Drakul made a backhand slash that Steropes barely dodged; the Drakul’s knife connected with his sword, knocking it from his hands. Steropes jumped back, dodging as the Drakul reversed its stroke, trying to take the Psiclops’ head off. The Drakul moved forward to continue its attack, stopp
ing to laugh as Steropes pulled two six-inch knives from his sleeves. The laughter stopped as the point of one of the throwing knives embedded itself in the Drakul’s right eye.

  The Drakul pulled out the knife, blue blood dripping from the tip. Throwing the knife to the side, the Drakul charged at Steropes. Over twice the size of the Psiclops, he swung awkwardly at Steropes, who surprised the creature by diving forward through its legs.

  The Drakul roared in frustration and turned on Steropes, swinging its knife. The monster narrowly missed as Steropes dove backward. Turning his dive into a back flip, Steropes came to a standing stop next to the knife that the Drakul had thrown away. Reaching down, he flipped it up into the air. Catching the knife by the blade, he threw it at the Drakul’s other eye. Blind in one eye, the Drakul couldn’t judge the distance so it put up a hand to block the throw. The knife embedded itself in the palm of the creature’s hand.

  The Drakul roared again, infuriated by the little creature tormenting it.

  The monster fastened its teeth on the knife handle and pulled the weapon out of its palm, more of its blood dripping off the blade.

  The Drakul advanced slowly on Steropes, not wanting to make the same mistake of charging him again. Instead of slashing, the Drakul used thrusting attacks that would not be as hindered by the creature’s lack of depth perception.

  Steropes kept moving to his left, taking advantage of the Drakul’s missing eye, as the creature advanced on him. He timed the Drakul’s attacks, noting that it thrust and recovered the same way every time. Realizing that he couldn’t avoid the Drakul’s attacks forever, he decided to try to end the fight, one way or another.

  He feigned a stumble, drawing the Drakul in as it thrust at him. He caught the blade of the Drakul’s knife on the blade of his throwing knife and guided it to the side, reaching in to take hold of the creature’s sleeve as it pulled back. The move was unexpected, and the Drakul pulled him closer by reflex.

  Steropes used his momentum to take another step toward the Drakul and then ran up the Drakul’s leg and plunged his knife into the Drakul’s other eye, blinding it. Somersaulting backward, Steropes jumped down and away from the Drakul as it slashed in all directions, trying to kill him.