by Kyle Noe
Next to the false rabbit was another odd creature in its own glass cage. This one baffled Quinn even more. It looked like an undersized reptilian wolf. Claws, fangs, pointed ears, and lanky legs. Even worse, it seemed like a child. Maybe even being raised from birth as a weapon of some kind.
“The poor bastards are prisoners just like us,” Renner said, from behind Quinn.
“Syndicate must be going planet to planet,” Milo offered.
“If they’re prisoners, then they’re like us,” Quinn blurted out. “They’re fighters. Warriors. If we can help them, we should.”
“Why the hell would they be taking all of the fighters hostage?” Renner asked.
“To keep them off the battlefield,” Hayden said, piping up.
Milo nodded. “Sort of like how Valerian was kidnapped by the Persian king Sassanian after the Battle of Edessa.”
“Where the hell do you get that shit from?” Renner asked.
“Ever heard of books?”
Renner held up a fist. “Ever heard of taking a spin at knuckle junction.”
Quinn spotted a multi-limbed abomination on the other side of the glass. Its two heads rotated and its eight eyes fixed a look on Quinn. The thing slammed itself against the glass, and Quinn flinched.
“There’s some other reason,” she said. “They must want all of us for something.”
“Long as it isn’t as appetizers, I guess I’m cool,” Renner said.
The corridor ended at another room shaped like a star. As soon as the group entered the space, the doors behind them hissed shut. Some of the other prisoners began screaming and pounding on the walls.
Quinn remained calm. “Anyone familiar with these tunnels?” Quinn asked. After several seconds of silence, she started giving orders. “Fine. Here's what we're gonna do. We need to coordinate with prisoners in other cells, then I need a volunteer to—”
The others turned and one of them, a bear-like man naked from the waist up, glared at Quinn, interrupting her.
“Who put you in charge?” the man demanded.
“I did. And if you could shut your mouth for a minute and listen—” Quinn started.
“Listen up, bitch, I’m gonna need you to shut your goddamn mouth.”
Quinn stared at him. “You first.”
WHAM!
She jabbed the big man in the neck and down he fell, unconscious. The other prisoners stared at Quinn. Two of them stepped forward, when a blinding yellow light flashed and Quinn dropped to the ground, covering her eyes.
The light dimmed and she stood, when—
WHUNK!
An unseen mechanism engaged and Quinn was snapped back against the wall. The bracelets around each of the prisoners had been magnetized and were pinning them in place. The room was filled with the sound of compartments opening, followed by a wheezing note. Somebody shouted, and Quinn looked up to see a gaseous, green cloud descending from somewhere far overhead.
She took in a deep breath and held it as the green cloud enveloped the room. Everyone bucked and fought against the gas, but in seconds it had overcome them. Quinn was the last to submit, exhaling her breath as the gas filled her lungs and complete and utter blackness consumed her.
Quinn was flying at night, just as she always did in her dreams. Arms wide, hair haloing her head, drifting over verdant fields and lakes that looked like puddles of lead under the light of a skull-colored moon. But this night was different. There were fires out on the horizon, a curtain of flame that devoured the countryside.
Quinn pinned her arms close to her sides and angled down, shooting over a section of bottomlands, a hellscape that was being overrun by Syndicate soldiers. She circled, listening to the ancient sounds of combat: the thwack of metal against bone, the rending of sinew and tissue, the guttural cries of the dead and the dying.
In the middle of the fight, beyond the play of light from the encroaching fire, was a Marine unit. They were standing in defensive crouches, back-to-back, faces hidden behind their battle helmets, weapons raised, readying for a last stand.
The Syndicate horde streamed over the bodies of their dead brethren, an unholy onslaught of infantry followed by mechanized machines, towering battle drones and mini-bots armed to the teeth.
The Marines charged and soon the fighting was hand-to-hand. Quinn hovered over all of this, watching the carnage, taking in the ground that was littered with the savaged remains of humans and aliens.
In mere moments there was but one Marine left, a single figure, grievously wounded who refused to submit. Quinn watched this soldier empty out a rifle and pick up a fallen alien’s sword, swinging it back and forth until the blade was broken.
The Marine fell to the ground and a Syndicate soldier wrenched off the battle helmet to reveal the soldier.
It was Quinn!
She rocketed forward with a cry and fell to the ground, back in the present moment, hands over her head, trying to will the nightmare away.
With a deep breath, Quinn gathered herself, and rolled over. When she opened her eyes, she saw, against the backdrop of overhead lighting, several figures staring down at her. Dim lighting blocked their faces out at first, but after a second, she could make them out.
Milo, Renner, and Hayden stood over her, and beyond them were a handful of the other prisoners and several more men and women she’d never seen before. They stood in a new room, a circular space with several windows that revealed the implacable blackness of outer space.
The armor she and the others had worn was gone, as were the handcuffs on their wrists. The armor had been replaced with a metallic-colored singlet and a single metal loop hung around her ankle, blinking red. She reached for the loop and Renner gestured at her.
“Wouldn’t if I were you,” Renner said.
“What is it?” Quinn asked.
“Something not to be trifled with.”
Renner held up his hands, revealing red marks where it appeared as if he’d been scalded.
“You okay?” Quinn asked.
He nodded slowly. “You okay? You thrashed when you were out.”
“Dreamt I was stuck in a room with you idiots.”
The others chuckled nervously.
“Nightmares can be a good thing,” Milo said.
“Why’s that?” Quinn asked.
“Means you had a life before. And that’s worth remembering.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think it means shit,” Renner said. “Dreams are dreams. Real is real. We gotta deal with the situation we currently find ourselves deployed in.”
Quinn considered this, her mind reeling. Her head throbbed and she staggered for a moment. She had no sense of place or time. How long had they been in the ship? Where were they? Was there a way out?
Milo helped Quinn up, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts, and she walked around the room. Her fingers traced an outline on the edge of a wall. She noticed that all of the surfaces appeared to be made of a smooth, gunmetal material that left no streaks, no smudges, no fingerprints of any kind.
“I even tried breathing on the goddamn stuff,” Hayden said. “Nothing. Not a mark.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re in the ship,” Milo said.
“A giant fucking ship… or maybe space station. You saw it before,” Renner added. “The bad guys hoovered us up good.”
Quinn nodded, eying the people standing on the other side of the room. Some of them she’d seen before, but others were new.
“Seems we weren't the only ones.”
“Grunts from other units,” Renner said.
Quinn looked around. “Why are we all here?”
“Nobody knows,” Milo said.
Quinn caught her reflection in one of the windows and gasped. There was a protuberance on the back of her neck. She reached back, fingers tracing a raised circle of welted flesh.
“We’ve all got ‘em, kid,” Hayden said.
“A kind of tattoo,” Milo said.
“Goddamn alien tramp-stamps,” Renner a
dded, with a snort.
She surveyed the back of Milo’s neck to see that the scarified flesh resembled an image of a snake devouring itself, tail-first.
Chills ran down her back, and she was sure she’d seen that somewhere before.
But before she could get too lost in her thoughts, there was a burst of indecipherable words and grunts. Quinn looked over her shoulder to see one of the alien prisoners pointing at the image on the back of Milo’s neck. Quinn fought the urge to grimace, the alien was so goddamn ugly. The creature was only about five feet tall, had a prominent forehead with two wide-set eyes that bulged like a goldfish, and his head, which was olive-colored, was in the shape of a cloverleaf.
The alien’s pronounced jaw worked back and forth, producing guttural sounds that slowly began coalescing into words that could be understood. In seconds, the alien was stringing together words that Quinn and the others could understand.
“Luciferian snake,” the alien said.
Quinn did a double take. “Come again?”
The alien pointed to Milo’s neck.
“Your people call that a Luciferian snake. It’s an ancient symbol that’s been used on other planets before, and in each instance it has a different name. However, each of the names means the same thing.”
“And what might that be?” Milo asked.
“It’s a symbol of the end of the world,” the alien said.
“Well, that’s just super-duper,” Renner snorted. “I mean, that is the bee’s fucking knees. End of the world, shit. I liked it better when I couldn’t understand a word he was saying!”
The alien stepped forward and held up a clawed hand in a gesture of goodwill. “I’m not Syndicate. I’m a friend. Name’s Larry.”
Hayden suppressed a chuckle. “Okay, so your name is … Larry?”
Larry nodded. “I’m familiar with your culture and it’s my understanding that the name Larry is the single least threatening name on your planet, which is precisely the reason I’ve chosen to use it.”
“What’s your real name?” Quinn asked.
“Impossible for you to pronounce,” the alien replied. “You’d have to have several of the ligatures in your throat removed to even try.”
“I’ll pass,” Renner said.
Milo stepped forward.
“Where do you come from, Larry?”
“A planet you’d likely called Trappist 2. It’s very close, only about fifty light years away.”
“Right around the corner,” Renner said, twirling a finger.
“What brings you here?” Quinn asked.
“Oh, I wasn’t invited,” the alien said, with a grin. “The Syndicate made my people an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Lemme guess: submit or die?” Milo asked.
“That’s the one. But maybe in a different way. We accepted,” he said, “but I’m not complying, obviously.”Larry pointed at the other prisoners.
“There are many others like us. From different planets, different parts of the galaxy. From what I can discern, we all share something in common: we were fighters.”
“You’re a fighter?” Renner asked, eying Larry’s generous midsection.
“Looks can be deceiving,” the alien replied.
“Yeah, well, if you know so much, why the hell are we here?” Milo asked.
Before the alien could respond, a sound like a million snakes hissing at once filled the space. Quinn covered her ears, and a section of wall in front of the Marines opened to reveal a team of Syndicate soldiers, still hidden behind their blood-colored armor.
One of the other prisoners sprang at the Syndicate soldiers, only to drop to the ground, wailing like a beast at a branding, clawing at the metal anklet.
“Told you,” Renner said. “Do not fuck with that thing.”
The ground opened up beneath the Marines and they fell, plummeting down into the blackness of space. Quinn screamed, arms out, searching for anything to hold onto …
WHUNK!
Her body came to a jarring stop, suspended in midair in the blackness.
It felt like an invisible vice was gripping the middle of her body, holding her aloft. Her head levered to the side and she caught sight of forms struggling in the murkiness, what might be the other Marines. She called out to them and muffled voices called back.
WHUNK!
The vice released its grip and she fell again, landing hard as a blinding battery of lights flashed on.
Hand shielding her eyes, Quinn noted that the room she and the other Marines were in appeared to be slowly rotating. Above them dangled what looked like a high-tech, mini-chandelier, and above that still more lights that created deep shadows in the room, too dark to see into. The group staggered to their feet as a voice that sounded electronically altered boomed from somewhere far overhead.
“BOW DOWN!”
Quinn looked at Renner, and Renner grinned.
“Who wants to be the first to say it?” Renner asked.
When no one responded, Renner raised a middle finger toward the ceiling, which couldn’t be seen, and screamed, “FUCK YOU!”
Quinn waited for Renner to fall screaming, clutching his ankle, but it didn’t happen.
Instead, she heard the sound of unseen mechanisms and motors engaging. The still, small voice in Quinn’s head, her intuition, told her to prepare to fight.
She positioned herself on the balls of her feet.
Milo pointed at her. “What’s the good word, Sarge?!”
She flung him a quick look. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s not going to be a big deal.”Isn’t that what we usually say right before something becomes a huge fucking deal?!”
The metal floor underneath hummed and vibrated.
It was not unlike the time back on her family’s farm when she’d entered a barn early in the morning. The barn had been heavy with shadows, nearly impossible to see. A far gate was open and Quinn knew, sensed might be a better word, that something was coming. She’d felt a displacement in the air, sensed the energy of the bull before it reached her, able to react and slide right past the testosterone-fueled beast before it gored her. Something like that was coming Quinn’s way.
GET READY!” she screamed, dancing left and right, measuring her weight, ready for anything. “IT’S COMING!”
A door on the other side of the room opened to reveal a hulking mass of circuitry and layered, glistening flesh. A biomechanical abomination, what looked like the monstrous bastard spawn of a forklift and a dragon.
The thing stood ten feet tall, with two legs that pumped like pistons and hydraulic arms that telescoped out to reveal cutting instruments whirring to life. Renner looked over at Larry.
“Okay, Mister Warrior Alien. You want to be the first one to take a run at that mother?”
Larry dropped low and charged the machine, which simply flicked out an arm and swatted Larry harmlessly to the side as if he were a fly.
“Next up!” Renner shouted.
Before anyone could react, the construct shunted to its left, angling at some of the others, who ran for cover. Quinn and the Marines helped Larry to his feet, turning, watching an unlucky woman, one of the other prisoners, bungle into the back of a man. The woman fell and rose back up, only to be bisected by the metal monster’s spinning blade. The woman’s body fell in two chunks that left a wending bloodtrail as the Marines looked for something, anything, they could use to fight back with.
Quinn watched the construct attack another man and woman, chasing them down and cutting off their arms and heads before swiveling and rampaging about like a wild beast.
“Its legs!” Quinn screamed to Milo, Renner, and Hayden. “The lines on its legs are exposed!”
They looked to see that she was right. There was a yellow cable snaking up the backside of the construct’s legs, connecting the lower portions of its body to the back of what looked like its head.
“I’ve got an idea,” Quinn said.
“I hate when you get those,” Milo re
plied.
“Drop and roll right!” she said.
The three did, feigning injury, scurrying to Quinn’s right as the beast lunged for them.
Quinn flew into action, bolting forward and leaping onto the back of the construct, holding on like someone clutching a lifeline. The machine staggered and twisted and attempted to hit back. It swung its cutting arms at Quinn, barely missing taking off the top of her head.
She grabbed the cable and pulled back when—
WHAM!
The construct snapped its body, sending Quinn up into the air!
Quinn smashed into the mini-chandelier, scrabbling for purchase, grabbing hold of the chandelier’s metal branches and arm-plate. She chinned herself up, and the branches broke apart.
Quinn fell fourteen feet down, ricocheting off the upper half of the construct, showering it in debris from the chandelier.
“That could’ve gone better, Quinn!” Renner screamed.
Quinn’s jaw locked. She saw the metal demon’s head turning her way. Dropping to her haunches, Quinn grabbed a shaft from the broken chandelier and ran forward.
The construct’s cutting blade slanted toward her. She hurtled it and clambered up onto the machine. The construct whipped around as Quinn held on by one hand. Steeling herself, she latched her fingers onto a metal loop that lay beneath the monster’s head. She spotted something inside the thing’s metal skull, a collection of circuitry and a cube of metal that glowed green. The machine’s brain!
With one final burst of energy, Quinn daggered the metal shaft over her head and brought it down into the construct’s head. The metal knifed into the circuitry, which exploded in a hail of sparks.
Quinn reached in, grabbed the metal cube and yanked it out. The cube was attached to a silver runner that dangled like an umbilicus.
The construct immediately heaved and toppled over, sending Quinn flying to the ground where she rolled over, clutching her side. Milo rushed to her and grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet.
Before anyone could utter a word of congratulations, the same overhead voice from before intoned, “Will you submit?”
Quinn thrust up the metal cube and silver runner like a trophy of war.
“MARINES DON’T SUBMIT!” she cried, valiant.
Quinn flung the cube against the far wall as a humming sound filled the circular room. There was a hissing note, and then the room was flooded once again by green gas. Everyone covered their mouths, eyes bulging as the gas swept over them. They began dropping where they stood, overcome by the fumes. Quinn sucked in a breath and forced herself over into a corner, covering her mouth, but it was no use.
