by Erica Rue
She could attack, but she didn’t like her chances. One machete against a fully grown Ven? Horrible odds. She looked around the storage room. Plenty of places to hide, but hiding wasn’t an option. Only one alternative came to mind.
Dione removed her jacket and positioned it so that it just barely appeared from behind a storage container. She pressed herself against the wall near another storage container that resembled a bookshelf. If the Ven looked the wrong way, game over.
A few tools were lying out, so she picked up the one that looked like it might go farthest, maybe some kind of wrench. She hesitated a moment before throwing it.
Was this really the best plan she could come up with? Would it work? The questions became irrelevant as she saw time ticking away on her manumed. There was no time to think. She had to act. Now.
She threw the wrench at the Ven’s face, but it landed harmlessly at his feet. Nevertheless, it did the trick. He caught sight of her jacket decoy and ran straight toward the room where she was hiding. He breezed past her hiding spot, concealed by a narrow crate. The second his back was turned, she darted out of the room. The machete in its sheath banged painfully against her back.
The giant Ven wheeled on his feet, impossibly agile, impossibly fast, and lost no time in his pursuit. This was a horrible idea. He would catch her in no time. Even though he was built for power, not speed, his stride was long. The distance to the airlock was short, and the gap was closing with every burning step. He would grab her before she could close the door. Dione felt him move closer. Too close. She could imagine his outstretched hand straining for her hair. She jetted down the corridor, begging for one last burst of speed from her worn-out legs, just enough to make it to the airlock, but it was not enough.
As Dione crossed the threshold into the airlock that joined the two ships, she felt a desperate hand swipe at her back, claws tearing fabric and skin. He had just missed the reinforced strap that held her machete. Something warm glued her tank top to her back, but the pain seared hot on her left shoulder blade. The unexpected pain made her clumsy, and for a moment, she forgot what she had to do.
That moment should have been fatal, but luck was on her side. She turned and closed the airlock door, initiating the pressurization and unlocking sequence. No, that had not been luck. The Ven had been standing there, glaring at her, growling in a low, ominous tone. He could have easily moved in for the kill in her moments of hesitation, but he had not. Some invisible protection had stopped him at the threshold.
Her back screamed in agony, but there was nothing she could do. She shrugged her shoulder, wincing at the pain, but was relieved to have full mobility. The cuts must be fairly shallow.
The time on her manumed was just over two minutes. That had been close. She was about to take a mental breath when she thought of the professor. Is that how she would always remember him, motionless and surrounded by Vens?
A message flashed across her manumed from Lithia: Status?
It was time to unmute. “I’m back,” Dione said over the manumed. “I’m the one in the airlock.” Dione let the silent tears roll down her cheeks. She let them well up in her eyes, blurring the world around her. She wanted to ask Lithia about the jump, but her voice would betray her.
She walked over to the viewport to check on Bel, stepping back through the Ven corpses. She didn’t see her. Dione’s chest tightened as she realized that the last Ven, the one that she had dragged from the walkway, was not where she had left him. Dione forced the flow of tears to ebb, though her voice was still shaky.
“Bel?” she asked, even though no one could hear her.
It was Zane who answered, though he couldn’t have possibly heard her question. “Dione, Bel needs help. One of the Vens—it wasn’t dead.”
Dione took a deep breath, clearing what shakiness she could from her voice. “What? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But she’s holding him off as best she can.”
“The pressurization and unlocking sequence still has another minute,” Dione said. “That’s about the same time the bomb goes off. I had to put it by their stabilizers, so we need to be detached as soon as I get back inside. The centrifugal force of their engine should spin them out of control without their stabilizers functioning, but we’re still attached, so ours will try to compensate for them until we detach.”
“Understood,” Zane said. Dione normally hated his brisk responses, but this time she was grateful to be left alone. Get it together. Deep breaths.
The seconds flowed like cold honey, but with about forty-five to go, Bel limped into view. Blood was pouring from her nose and forehead. The Ven actually looked worse. His right arm hung uselessly by his side and his right leg dragged behind him. Bel was biding time, trying to stay far enough ahead to dodge an attack. Even injured and half-paralyzed, the Ven was a deadly opponent.
“Bel!” Dione shouted and banged against the door. Bel glanced at the viewport and shuffled in her direction. She was saying something, but Dione couldn’t understand. Her manumed must have been broken.
The Ven was catching up. Dione watched helplessly as Bel stumbled, and her injured leg couldn’t compensate. She tumbled to the floor.
“Look out!” Dione said, banging on the door. The thirty-second chime sounded. Dione hit the door control, but nothing happened. Still locked. She would not get there in time. It was too late for Bel.
The Ven, now right behind Bel, pulled her hair, and smashed her face into the viewport, leaving a smear of blood across the glass. Bel crumpled to the floor. Dione could see the rise and fall of her chest, but Bel did not stir.
“No!” Dione said. She was useless, trapped. Her manumed timer was still ticking down. The Ven stared, his rectangular pupils fixed on her. He knew. Somehow he knew that she had been the one to try and kill him. He wanted revenge.
The Ven grabbed Bel by the shoulder, using his good arm, though she noticed twitches of movement from the arm that dangled at his side. Could such a serious injury already be healing? If so, the reports and profiles had severely underestimated the species’ regenerative capabilities. If she didn’t act fast, she would lose her only advantage, his injuries.
She rushed into the room. The Ven was out of sight, but she knew what he wanted. She was supposed to follow. To reclaim her friend. To fall into his trap out of sheer emotional stupidity. This Ven was certainly well-versed in the habits of his quarry. Dione swallowed the urge to rush headlong after him.
“Zane, is the cockpit sealed?”
“Yes, how’s Bel?”
“She’s in bad shape. The Ven took her. He’s still loose on the ship.”
“On my way.”
“No. Zane, you need to get their walkway to disengage in the next ten seconds.”
“I’ll still need more time.”
“You don’t have it,” Dione said. “Lithia, have you found a place for us to go?”
“Yeah, but I can’t reach the professor. I want to run it by him,” Lithia said.
“Wherever it is, it’s fine.”
“Is that what he said? Is he with you?”
“No, he’s not.” The countdown on her wrist hit zero.
9. DIONE
An alarm went off on her manumed, and Dione braced herself. They were still connected, and the ship would start spinning any second now. Nothing happened.
The Vens must have disarmed the bomb. All of it had been for nothing. The professor was dead, Bel was injured, a Ven was loose on the Calypso, and Dione had failed to disable the Ven ship.
“I’m ready to force-remove their docking clamps,” Zane said.
“Wait, I have to go back,” she protested. “Something happened to the bomb, or I made a mistake when arming it. It didn’t—” But then the ship rocked and knocked her to the deck. An external camera showed a spout of flame venting into space from the Ven ship. It had actually worked! Before she could rejoice at her small victory, she remembered that the professor was still dead, and still on that ship.
“Never mind, disengage now,” she said. Their ship and the Vens’ were rocking like a seesaw, but their stabilizers wouldn’t be able to hold both ships for long. The artificial gravity was losing its grip on her. On the next downward swing, she caught some air. The next time, she was thrown against the wall.
Before they launched into a full spin, Zane released the clamps, and they shot off into space. Without the Calypso as an anchor, the Ven ship began spiraling more rapidly. It fired off a few shots, but they didn’t even come close. Dione opened a group channel on her manumed.
“Lithia, jump,” Dione said.
“I can’t, the jump drive needs to be reinitialized. I think the Ven did something,” Lithia said.
“No, it was the professor. He completely removed the charging matrix,” Dione said.
“Now it makes sense. He said we’d only get one jump. I’ll need to go down there and reinitialize it manually.”
“No, the Ven could be waiting for you outside the cockpit. This could be his way of luring you out. You’re unarmed. I’ll do it.”
“What about Bel?” Zane asked.
“The Ven took her.”
“It’s too dangerous. You can’t leave her to the Ven. I’m coming down there,” Zane said.
“We can’t afford for the cockpit to be compromised.” Dione stared at the red blood gleaming on the floor. Bel. She clenched her fists. No one else was getting involved. “He’s badly injured, and I think I have a good chance.” What was she saying? A chance against a Ven? She was the reason he wasn’t dead in the first place. He had been hers to dispatch. She hadn’t been able to kill him when he was unconscious, so why did she think she could now?
Her stomach turned. She would at least try. She didn’t think she could actually do it, but she had no choice.
“I’m leaving my manumed link open to both of you,” Dione said.
Dione cautiously followed the trail of Bel’s blood down the corridor to the ladder. Dione kept reminding herself that it was a head wound, and those bled a lot. It was probably not as bad as it seemed. She felt reassured every time she passed a smear of thick brown and white Ven blood, or whatever the goop was. The Ven had made no attempt to hide his tracks, and she had one guess as to why it was leading her here. It wanted access to the engines, just like she did. Moments later, she caught sight of Bel, slumped against the wall outside the ladder hatch. Her face was covered in blood.
Dione froze, fighting every instinct to rush to Bel’s aid. A trap. It had to be. She backed herself against the wall and raised her machete, ready. She examined her surroundings, but there were no good hiding spots. Satisfied it was safe, she approached Bel and felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks once she felt a pulse.
“I’ve got Bel,” she said into her manumed. “She’s alive, but unconscious. I think the Ven is in the cargo bay. He’s heading toward the engines, too.”
In order to reach the engine room, she would have to climb down a ladder and cross the mess of crates and boxes the professor had packed. This area was larger than the rest of the ship, and the Ven would have the space to stretch to his full height. She would be the most vulnerable while climbing down the ladder, but she didn’t have a choice. She braced herself to be ready for anything. Dione kept her weapon drawn in one hand and headed down. Each successive rung set her heart pounding against her chest in a painful burst.
When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she raised up her machete and peered around. The tension in her shoulders left her shaking. Was he trying to frighten her into submission? She could smell him, like milk left out in the sun, but she still couldn’t see him.
“He’s here. I can smell him,” Dione said to Lithia and Zane. He was not ready to attack yet. He was waiting for something. Or maybe his injuries were worse than she thought, and that’s why he had left Bel.
Numerous crates and containers created the perfect place to hide, and made the trek across the cargo bay feel like a marathon. This suspense was exactly what Lithia loved in a virtual reality holo, but Dione hated it. Now that the stakes were real, Dione was certain her heart was beating so fast that her blood didn’t actually have time to deliver oxygen to her muscles. That’s why she felt so weak. She almost wished the Ven would just attack already and relieve the tension building inside her.
On a nearby crate, she recognized Professor Oberon’s handwriting on a label. He always believed in her and the Vens had taken that support away. She inhaled sharply with the thought and felt her rage push back her sorrow. By the time she reached the engine room door at the end of the cargo bay, she was furious. She glanced in both directions, saw nothing, and punched in digit after digit. Her finger had barely hit the last key when a flurry of blue came bounding from the shadows. The Ven moved fast, and Dione wondered if his leg was already healing.
He knocked her to the ground and rushed the door, but growled in frustration when it did not budge.
“Like I didn’t see that move coming a mile away.”
From the floor, she was able to stab upward with the machete into his left leg, in between the plates that covered his whole body, bringing him to his knees, or whatever his mid-leg joints were called.
He swiped with his good arm but missed, losing what was left of his balance on his good knee. A strange whistling sound was coming from beneath his hood-shaped carapace as he lay prostrate before her. Was he panting?
Dione stood over the Ven for a second time that day, machete in hand. She knew what she had to do, but that message wasn’t making it to the muscles in her arm. The command was stuck in some twilight zone that demanded to know what right she had to take another life. He was in no shape to fight back. What were her options?
They could contain him, find a way to lock him up until they could hand him over to the Alliance patrols. But no, they didn’t have a place to put him. And there was no reasoning with him. The Vens were not known for their diplomacy. There was no way to sedate him. She knew what Bel would do. What the professor would do.
This thing had slammed Bel’s head against the door, and his friends had killed the professor. Did he really deserve her consideration and her mercy? He posed too great a risk. There was only one option. He looked at her with his large eyes as she tensed, preparing her killing jab. This time she would be certain.
With a groan, he kicked her knee with his newly injured leg, and she toppled to the ground next to him, losing her grip on the machete. He rolled on top of her, rattling and rasping, putting all his weight into the arm against her throat. She tried to call for help, but she couldn’t even choke out the words. Maybe Lithia and Zane could hear her gasping on the manumed. Thick white fluid oozed from his wounds onto her clothes, but she was desperate for any air, even if it came with that Ven stench. White light was hovering at the corners of her vision when she heard something. The Ven must have heard it, too, because he lifted his weight for just a moment, just long enough for Dione to grab the machete. She would not hesitate again.
She swung the blade around so that she was nearly hugging the creature and jammed the honed edge straight into the gap between the plates on his back, but this time, she struck something hard. These plates were fused.
“Hey!” It was Zane’s voice. She could hear him, running through the cargo bay.
She thrust again, but the Ven smacked her head against the floor leaving her dazed as he got up to meet his new opponent. Dione grabbed the machete and got up, supporting herself on the nearest containers. Her vision was not cooperating and she felt light-headed, like she might pass out and vomit at the same time.
She couldn’t believe Zane had come. He was so…
A scream pierced her thoughts before she could complete them. The Ven had bitten Zane, and when he stumbled, the Ven just watched.
Then Zane did something she did not expect. He roared. Not in pain, or fear, but in anger. Dione called Lithia, still leaning against the crates.
“The Ven just bit Zane,” she said.
&
nbsp; “Shit. Is he?”
“Going berserk? Yeah. The effect was immediate.”
“Do something! This is end game.”
Zane had just been hit with a dose of adrenaline and crazy, and there was no promise that he wouldn’t attack her the second she got close. But if the Ven had done that, he meant to force a confrontation. Though Zane would be stronger and faster now, he would also be far more reckless.
Dione approached slowly, not wanting to attract any attention, but the Ven was aware of her. Zane was, too, but he was far more interested in the Ven. The Ven was limping, but his old wound from fighting Bel seemed to be giving him less trouble. He could move his injured arm, but not with much strength or speed.
Zane lunged, and the Ven dodged. He lunged again, and the Ven used Zane’s own momentum against him, grabbing him with his good arm and tossing him into a large metal container. Zane recovered quickly, but the Ven did not. His movement was taking a toll, and he seemed to realize his mistake in dosing Zane.
Dione watched, waiting for her opening. When Zane prepared another charge, she made her own attack. Zane was again thrown off to the side, but the monstrous creature could not recover quickly enough to dodge her. She forced the machete upward into vital sensitive areas, twisting violently, shoving with all her force until only the hilt remained visible. The Ven collapsed. She had done it.
The next moment, she locked eyes with Zane, pleading, “Zane, it’s me.” He offered no sign of recognition and tensed, as if preparing to jump. That was all the answer she needed. She sprinted back toward the door to engine room, knocking over a few crates to slow her pursuer. He tripped over the last one, giving her just enough time to slip into the engine room and lock the door.
“Lithia, what do I do?” Dione said, louder than she intended. The panic in her voice was evident.
