by Ben Hammott
Talbot relaxed. “One wasn't so bad.”
Richard looked at Talbot and shook his head. “You really need to acclimatize to the way everything in this ship behaves.” He pointed at the recently deceased creature. “That thing won't be alone. At this very moment hoards of them will be converging towards its call or your gunshots.”
Talbot cocked an ear, but heard nothing to hint Richard's prediction was about to come true. “You're paranoid. Nothing's coming.”
“You keep telling yourself that, but they are coming, trust me, they are coming.”
“We'll see.” Talbot continued along the train.
Richard glanced back along the train before following. He hoped he was wrong.
When they reached a door that prevented any further progress through the train, Talbot searched for the door control, but soon discovered there wasn't one. “Stick the knife blade in the join and lever it apart so I can get my fingers in.”
Richard did as instructed and forced the knife to the side, parting the two door sections slightly. Talbot forced his fingers into the gap, placed a foot against the frame and pulled the door open a few inches. Richard gripped the opposite door and together they forced it open and stepped inside the train's control room. It was obvious by the absence of lights on the wraparound console that the train lacked power. The padded backrest and seat of the large single seat set in the middle of the surrounding console was in better condition than the carriage seating. Richard glanced around for a power switch and spied a small door on the wall labeled with red, alien text, and pulled it open. Inside was a red lever. He was about to shift its position when Talbot stopped him.
“Did you hear that?”
Richard joined Talbot in staring out through the large, age-stained windscreen that curved around the sloped nose of the train. Something in the distance moved in and out of the pools of yellow light.
Richard operated the lever. The train hummed as whatever powered it sprung to life. The console lights flashed on and a bright light filled the tunnel when the train's single headlight came on. Caught in its blinding glare were more creatures of the type Talbot had just killed.
Now Richard could see them more clearly, they reminded him of Insectoids. He couldn't remember if they were from a cartoon or a range of toys, but one species were mantis-like aliens―a metamorphosis of an arachnid and a praying mantis―it described these creatures perfectly, though these didn't move like insects. They raced along the tunnel as gracefully as thoroughbred racehorses.
Richard barged by Talbot and climbed into the driver's seat. “Now do you believe me?”
“Okay, but it's not what I'd call a hoard. There's only about twenty of them.”
“How much ammo do you have left?”
Talbot shrugged. “Probably not enough.”
Richard swept his eyes over the controls. Luckily there weren't that many and the dials and gauges he could ignore. He had to sit on the front edge of the seat to reach the lever he thought would move the train.
“You're seriously going to try and drive this thing?”
Richard nodded. “We can't outrun them, so unless you have a better plan?”
Talbot didn't. “Will it work with the derailed carriage attached to the back?”
“Let's find out, shall we?”
Richard pushed the lever forward. The humming increased, but the train didn't budge. He pushed it farther and stared at the approaching creatures, now only thirty feet away. The train began to vibrate. The humming grew in intensity. The Insectoids grew nearer. The train jerked forwards an inch.
The derailed carriage trembled and jerked slightly with a protesting groan of tortured metal and slowly screeched along the track.
“It's working!” stated Talbot, surprised the train was moving, albeit at a snail's pace.
Richard pushed the lever to its limit. The high pitch of the humming engine was an indication of the strain it was under from dragging the dead weight of the damaged carriage.
When the Insectoids reached the train, some leaped onto the front while the remainder flowed down either side of the track before jumping onto the train. All searched for a way inside.
Richard recoiled slightly when three Insectoids landed on the windscreen. Two scrambled onto the roof while one remained and stared at him. It bared its small teeth into a snarl before disappearing onto the roof. The click-clack of their feet on top of the train was unnerving.
“We're up shit creek, aren't we?”
Richard glanced at Talbot, who had his weapon aimed back along the carriage. “You might think so, but a few minutes ago we both faced something far worse and survived, so don't give up just yet.”
Talbot shot a disbelieving glance at Richard. Even though they had both survived their encounter with the alien maggot monster, he found it hard to imagine a similar outcome would present itself in this death-imminent predicament with the odds so stacked against them. “I admire your optimism, Richard, but if it comes to it, I'll put a bullet in your brain to save you from the pain.”
“Not if I stab you in the eye first you won't.”
The two men grinned at each other.
“At first I took you for a cowardly, self-serving, conniving, sneaky bastard and a stab you in the back kinda guy, but actually, Richard, you're not such a bad sort after all.”
“Thanks, I think,” said Richard, “but I'm certain you'll change your mind when you get to know me better.”
“Here they come.” Talbot fired off two shots, killing one of the Insectoids that had found a way inside the train.
Richard glanced past Talbot at the creatures swarming through the carriages. They moved along the floor, the seats, the walls and ceiling to form a tunnel of teeth and death. They didn't have long now. He had to think of something.
Metal screeched against metal when the dragged carriage skimmed along the wall. The rear end struck a support pillar, careened across to the other side and slammed against the platform edge with enough force to crumple the side. Windows shattered, sending glass tinkling across the platform and spraying the seats long absent any waiting passengers. The carriage tipped slightly before it rolled back and bounced at an angle across the single track. The movement tore the back of the carriage it was tethered to away with a loud screech of tearing metal and slid a few feet before coming to a halt.
Richard was thrown back into his seat when the train lurched forward like a greyhound out of the stall on seeing the mechanical rabbit race by. Talbot tumbled forward, smashing his head against the wall before spilling through the doorway.
Richard leaned forward to accelerate the train that had slowed after his hand had been snatched from the lever.
As the train speeded up again, Talbot jumped to his feet and fired off a couple of shots. Both were on target, taking out two more Insectoids. He fired off another two shots while he backed into the driver's cab. A wounded Insectoid crashed into another and they tumbled in a tangle of limbs. Bones cracked in the scuffle.
Talbot grabbed the doors and tried pulling them closed, but he couldn't do it alone. “Quick, Richard, give me a hand.”
Richard glanced behind. “We have power now, just press the damn button.”
Talbot punched the button and the door closed.
A few moments later the creatures scratched at the door.
“That should hold them,” said Talbot confidently.
“I wouldn't relax just yet. We have another problem.”
Talbot turned and peered through the windscreen. About one hundred meters away a large section of collapsed ceiling rested on the rail and formed a ramp that sloped to a higher level.
*****
The SEALs arrived at a circular room that seemed to be the main hub of the intersecting corridors that led off in all directions from around its circumference. Elevators, positioned on one wall, allowed quick access to the upper and lower levels. A spiral staircase set in the room's center provided a slower way to get there.
Ligh
t beams roamed the room as the men crossed to the center.
Stedman aimed his light over the rail and peered down the spiral staircase that twisted to the lower levels. It seemed to go on forever.
Cleveland joined him and let out a whistle. “Damn, that's a long way down.”
“Stairway to Hell,” said Stedman, ominously.
Sullivan crossed to the elevators and forced one set of doors apart. The light he shone into the deep shaft failed to reach the bottom. He directed the flashlight overhead and picked out the bottom of the elevator two floors above. Curious to discover how deep it was, he fished a flare from a pocket, struck it and dropped it into the shaft. It was a long time before it stopped falling. He went to move away when a faint clicking drifted up the shaft and halted him. He cocked an ear. He wasn't fooled by the silence. Though he thought it might have been the ship groaning, he suspected something else was responsible. Something was alive down there. Luckily it was so far below it shouldn't cause them a problem.
Colbert gazed around the space he had first glimpsed on the 3D map. It was proof they were heading in the right direction. The next step was to go down a few levels. He crossed to the top of the staircase and gazed down at the thousands of treads spiraling into the dark bowels of the ship.
“If I remember correctly, we go down three levels,” said Crowe, joining Colbert at the top of the stairs.
Colbert nodded; his thoughts preoccupied with what horrors lay below waiting to surprise them. Though they were running low on ammo, it wasn't yet at a critical level. But they hadn't reached their goal yet, and they still had to make the return journey. Their chances of success were growing slimmer the farther they distanced themselves from the exit.
“You okay, Captain?” asked Cleveland, quietly.
Colbert turned to the man, smiled weakly and nodded. It was time to move. “We're going down.”
When the men were ready, Colbert started down the staircase.
*****
Brusilov took the lead and led the men along the corridor that ran straight for about five hundred feet before opening onto another metal walkway that stretched along each end and one edge of the long room they had entered. Their lights roamed the room and revealed part of the walkway had collapsed, preventing them from reaching the staircase at the far end that led down to an exit. The walkway groaned and shifted slightly when they walked to the rail and peered at the pieces of strange machinery in the lower level. Some blinked small red, green and yellow lights and some hummed softly.
Flashlights searched the gloom below, but there were so many places of concealment it was impossible to tell if any horrors waited in the dark for them. Nikolay leaned over the edge far enough for him to see under the walkway. He had hoped to find metal supports they could climb down, but the path was supported by brackets of metal angled towards the wall.
“We should be able to climb down here,” called out Babinski.
Brusilov and Nikolay crossed to the edge of the collapsed walkway and looked at the four-inch wide cables running down the wall Babinski pointed out near the broken platform.
Though Brusilov was reluctant to go down, he couldn't see any other choice as they needed to keep moving. He glanced around the room again. It was obvious from what they had seen so far in the lower levels that they were moving through the spaceship's industrial areas, the machinery that kept the huge spaceship running. If there was an armory it had to be on a higher level.
Babinski slid down first and fearing something might be down here, waiting, as soon as his feet touched the floor he aimed his rifle and light around the room. Sergei came down next and the rest of the men quickly followed. They cautiously moved between the machinery, heading for the door they had spotted from above on the far side. All expected an attack at any moment. Something had been killed in the corridor they had just passed through and it was a good bet whatever was responsible was down here somewhere. The ship's creaks, groans and the humming of the machines that started and stopped erratically with sinister whirrs and chugging clacks filled the room with an atmosphere of spookiness the men had rarely experienced. All felt relieved when they reached the far door safely.
Rozovsky was first to arrive at the open door. He peered around the frame and after shining his light into the next room, turned to those watching him with a frown creasing his brow and a shake of his head. “It's not good.”
Rozovsky's concern increased the men's anxiety.
“From what we've experienced so far, how bad can it be?” said Nikolay, attempting to quell the men's fears. He stepped through the doorway and glanced around the room while the men crowded behind him.
“I guess it's as bad as it can be,” stated Yelchin, who halted beside Nikolay and gazed at the thing above.
“And then some,” added Vadik, as he joined them in gazing at the thing that hung from the strange formations covering the walls and ceiling.
Though mostly a skeleton, enough of its tattered and ripped skin remained to give a sense of its appearance when alive and evidence something had fed upon the carcass. Its large skull had four empty eye sockets, two either side of a raised strip of bone that ended above its jaw. The top of the skull spread out in a fan with three holes spaced out near the top. Its chest, partially covered in taut ripped skin that exposed its thick ribs, was triangular, tapering down to hips that stuck out at an angle. Attached to these were two long legs jointed in two places. Attached to its spread out arms and legs were strands of what seemed to be thick webs suspending it from the ceiling. Its posed posture gave the impression the monster's corpse was flying, swooping down to snatch them up in its claws.
“Whatever it is, I'm just glad it's dead,” said Nikolay, tearing his eyes away from the frightening spectacle.
Mikhail scanned the room, his eyes darting nervously at the many dark areas where anything could be concealed. “Yeah, but whatever hung that thing up there might not be.”
Brusilov pushed to the front and gazed past the macabre ceiling decoration. The room stretched up three levels and dropped down one. This could be their chance to leave the bowels of the ship and climb nearer to their goal. It wasn't only the Motherland that desperately needed to get their hands on the alien weapons; their ammo had reached such a critical level if they didn't find something to defend themselves with soon it was doubtful any of them would be leaving the monster-infested vessel.
Nikolay read the captains thoughts. “You think we can climb it?”
Brusilov walked over to the nearest growth and tapped one of the brown, bonelike skeletal ribs that covered the walls and creaked with every movement of the ship; though a hollow thud rang out, it was as hard as stone.
“It seems strong enough.”
Brusilov gazed the length of the long room, its machinery and purpose smothered by the brown growth. Curved vertical formations linked the horizontal ribs together, adding to their strength and gave the impression of macabre curved ladders set on their sides. At intervals, bridges formed of the same substance connected the two sides. He made his decision and glanced at his men. “We climb.”
As the men started the ascent, Brusilov shone his light into the deep hole. The bone-like constructions continued down, becoming thicker as they neared the bottom and formed cave-like entrances. Shrouded in darkness the light failed to fully banish, it was easy to imagine monstrous creatures roaming its depths. Hell would probably look more inviting.
For all their strangeness, the ribs were easy to climb. Though they creaked and sometimes moved slightly, they supported the men's weight. They were almost halfway up when they heard it.
Clack clack. Clack clack. Clack clack.
The sound brought the team to a halt and all turned their gazes below.
A couple of the men aimed their flashlights at the clacking and highlighted the creature responsible for creating the sound. Each landing of one of its six skeletal limbs clacked on the hard growth it climbed. It stopped, raised its head and looked at the humans that ha
d strayed into its domain.
The men stared back at the creature. It wasn't very big, about two and a half feet in length. Its head was little more than a skull so tightly was the skin stretched over it, but, surprisingly, it didn't look frightening or vicious. It had two small eyes, a hint of a nose and a tiny mouth. Its six almost fleshless limbs were tipped with a flat knob of bone, conspicuously absent any claws, and its body was covered in a wiry mass of brown hair. Even though it had the appearance of a six-legged spider, it was the least frightening alien they had seen thus far.
Vadik sighted along his rifle at the spider creature. “Shall I kill it?”
Brusilov shook his head doubtfully. “No. It hasn't shown us any aggression. It might just be curious about us.”
“Shooting it might also attract others of its kind if there are any,” added Rozovsky. “I think we should ignore it and press on.”
All agreed and they continued their climb.
Noticing movement from out the corner of his eye, Yelchin glanced to the right and froze. A spider creature too close for comfort stared at him. It cocked its small head to one side and then the other as it briefly examined Yelchin before edging a little nearer.
Yelchin moved to the side so he could climb around it. The creature jumped on the rib by his head and hissed.
“Errrh, comrades, I could do with some help here,” whispered Yelchin, keeping a smile on his lips in the hope it would convey to the creature he meant it no harm.
The men stopped and looked at the reason for Yelchin's concern. The creature they saw was about half the size of the one below.
“It's only a young'un, slap it away,” said Vadik.
Yelchin reached out a hand towards the creature. “It's okay I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to push you back a bit.”
The creature jerked its head from side to side as it watched the hand moving closer. When the hand was almost touching it, it sniffed the tips of the fingers and then looked at Yelchin.
