by Ben Hammott
Though the terrible screams of tormented, shifting metal alerted them to the fresh danger, it was impossible for the two men climbing down the collapsing wreckage to move any faster. Every foot and handhold had to be carefully picked to avoid the many razor-sharp edges and unstable supports. They both clung to a thick metal beam as they rode the wave of shifting debris.
“Look out!” shouted Talbot.
Richard spun his head at the warning and saw the carriage rolling towards them. The creatures in its path jumped onto it and over to the far side to avoid being crushed, an acrobatic feat Richard and Talbot were incapable of doing.
His face a mask of alarm, Talbot raised his weapon and glanced at Richard. “The windows!”
Richard stared at the tumbling train anxiously. Its windows already covered in cracks, exploded when Talbot sprayed them with bullets.
Talbot climbed to his feet and glanced at Richard. “Get ready.”
Though Richard doubted he would ever be ready for what was coming, he stood on shaking legs and watched the tumbling train bounce and slide nearer.
“Now!” Talbot ran up the metal beam and dived through a window.
Mumbling a prayer to a god he believed had stopped listening to his pleas long ago, Richard copied Talbot and dived into the train.
They slid across the floor and grabbed at a seat leg when the carriage rolled over. The men hung from the seat supports and then slammed into the side as the carriage continued tumbling until it came to an abrupt halt when it collided with the wall below. The force tore Richard's hands from the metal leg and shot him through the window he had entered a few moments before. His shoulder struck the wall and he slid to the ground. As the carriage rocked, Talbot released his hold and slid to the side. Click-clacks on the carriage reminded him of the pursuing creatures. He glanced up when they moved across the cracked windows above him that splintered with their weight, increasing the length of the many cracks. Talbot climbed out as an Insectoid fell through. Glass tinkled to the ground around the Insectoid as it moved after its prey.
Talbot grabbed Richard's arm, yanked him to his feet and dragged him through the triangle gap left by the train leaning against the wall. More creatures entered the carriage while others ran along the roof. One leaped at the two men. Talbot poked the rifle at it and pulled the trigger. The creature's head exploded, showering him with blood. The dead creature slammed into Richard's back, sending him screaming to the ground.
A swift kick from Talbot's boot sent the Insectoid's corpse flying. “Get up, there's more coming.” Looking past Richard, he spied the orange light seeping through grimy glass. If there were windows, there might be a door.
As they fled, another section of floor gave way. The carriage tilted away from the wall and dropped into the hole with a loud crash. Some of the creatures still onboard jumped off; others not quick enough rode it down. Richard shoulder-barged the one that landed beside him and rose up on its rear spindly legs, knocking it into the hole and almost followed it down before he regained his balance. Another Insectoid a foot away snarled at him. Richard stamped on one of its legs, snapping it with a loud, satisfying crack. The creature screeched in pain. Richard followed through with a kick to its head. As the creature toppled back, Richard dodged past and ran.
Talbot shot two more Insectoids, killing one and wounding the other. When he leaped over the wounded creature writhing on the ground, it snapped at him; he slammed the rifle butt at its head, breaking its jaw. He landed awkwardly and almost tripped over the Insectoid Richard had injured. It lunged at him, but a bullet ended its attack.
Three Insectoids that had been dragged into the hole by the falling carriage appeared over the edge. Talbot kicked one back into the hole as the other two leaped at him. A scream rang out. One of the creatures splattered against the wall. Talbot clubbed the other with the rifle. It dropped to the floor, landing half over the edge. As it scrambled back up, Talbot stamped on its head. Its hard head-shell split. Blood and brain seeped from the cracks.
Talbot glanced up at Richard, who panted heavily, a metal bar in his hand dripping Insectoid blood. Talbot nodded. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome, and so is the light and rifle.” Richard smiled and turned around.
The remaining Insectoids rushed after the fleeing men.
Bathed in orange glow, the two men peered through the windows when they passed. Their gazes picked out a row of transparent containers along one wall that emitted the light. Inside each were dark, indistinct forms.
Richard almost wept in relief when he saw the open door a short distance beyond the windows. He halted outside and looked back when a shot rang out. Talbot had killed another Insectoid, but more scurried down the still falling wreckage and along the floor in pursuit. It would be close; they were fast little buggers. He nipped inside the room and held a hand over the door control. As soon as Talbot's form filled the doorway, he pressed the button. Nothing happened. Two more frantic thumps produced the same lack of action. He groaned. The spaceship was toying with them again.
Talbot's eyes scanned the room. Two strides brought him to a metal table. He gripped an end and dragged it towards the door. The objects on top vibrated and rolled off, some fragile items smashing on contact with the floor. Insectoids, their almost primordial features highlighted in the orange glow, scampered past the windows. Richard rushed over and grabbed the other end of the table. Together they upended it and shoved it over the opening just as the creatures arrived. The table rocked when they crashed into it.
“Find something to jam it in place,” shouted Talbot.
Richard backed away and cast his eyes around the room. There was nothing suitable. One of the creatures appeared at the window and watched Richard move through the room. When his toe stubbed something, Richard looked down at the warped floor panel. He hooked his fingers under one end and raised it. It was metal, about eighteen inches wide and eight feet long; it might just do the trick. He dragged it over to the door and rested one end against the table. Talbot helped him jam it under the strengthening bar that ran across the middle of the table's underside.
Ready to slam his weight back against the table if it moved, Talbot backed away. Lacking the body mass to dislodge the prop, the creatures' attempts to break down the barricade failed.
For a few moments Richard and Talbot stared through the windows at the wreckage still slipping into the lower levels. Slowly the main bulk settled and loose pieces rolled and slid as they sought new resting positions.
Richard turned away and sat by one of the containers. “I need to rest before we carry on. I don't have the benefit of your army training.”
Talbot glanced around the room. “Believe me, none of my training remotely prepared for this.”
When Talbot noticed two of the transparent pods along the wall by the door were broken, he walked over and peered inside. Except for the layer of reddish-brown dust that also covered everything in the room, it was empty. The next container was cracked with a small hole near the bottom. He wiped a hand on the surface to clear a patch and peered inside. A jumble of thin bones and tiny skulls he thought matched the Insectoids lay at the bottom of the tank―baby monsters. The next tank in line was intact and full of orange, semi-transparent liquid. He brushed a patch clean and looked inside. Suspended from tubes were Insectoids. Though smaller than those that had chased them―the biggest here was only about ten inches long―they looked no less formidable. He glanced at Richard.
“Are these things inside alive?”
“Probably. We found a room full of specimens and they seemed to be in some sort of induced hibernation. Some escaped when the ship crashed and infested parts of the ship.”
Talbot glanced at the broken container absent any bones and then at the door the creatures continued to scratch at. “What is this place?”
“Does it matter?” said Richard. He had given up trying to fathom the reasons for the strange rooms he had passed through. He was just thankful that for the mome
nt nothing was trying to eat them and he could rest. He doubted it would last. He watched Talbot cross the room, examining everything he passed. “If you find any weapons, I get first choice.”
“It seems more like a laboratory than a room where you'd find weapons.” Talbot walked past the strange pieces of equipment that lined the countertop around two sides of the room, without coming to any conclusions as to their use. The instruments and unusual tools, most of which had sharp or serrated edges, but too unwieldy to use as weapons, reminded him of medical instruments of the type a mortician would use. He turned towards the tapping at the window. An Insectoid drummed on the glass and stared straight at him. Talbot crossed to the window and placed his face close to the creature's ugly head.
Richard climbed to his feet. “It's probably best not to antagonize them.”
Talbot looked at him. “Don't worry; I doubt they'll be able to break the window.” When he turned back to the window the creature had gone. A loud bang echoed through the room when an Insectoid crashed into the glass. Talbot yelled in surprise as he recoiled. As soon as it dropped from view, another Insectoid slammed into the glass.
Both men stared at the crack that formed and snaked across the window when a third one struck. They backed away and crossed to the door on the far side. Thankfully, it opened and closed again when they had passed through.
Talbot was going to say they were safe now, but thought better of it. He doubted it was true. He was finally becoming aware of the spaceship's ability to throw one surprise after another at those who dared to trespass within.
*****
Sullivan led the men down the ladder and after the elevator doors had been forced apart on the level they needed to access, they stepped through into the darkness and roamed flashlights around the area an exact copy of the level above.
When Ramirez crossed to the central stairwell where the broken spiral staircase above swung slightly with a groan of metal, he noticed the floor sloped down slightly. It was evidence the train wreck had damaged more than just the stairs. He dropped a flare and noticed two of the strange twiggy monsters they had glimpsed earlier move through its devilish glow.
Colbert looked over at the corridor directly opposite the elevator. The armory should be about one hundred feet along it on the right. He glanced back at the elevator shaft, their only known means of exit. It might also provide them with a shortcut to the hangar level if they could climb past the elevator. Then they would be able to avoid the medical facility and the monsters that dwelled there and not waste precious time looking for a route around it.
“It looks clear,” called out Sullivan.
Colbert glanced over at Sullivan and the corridor highlighted by his flashlight. “Cleveland, remain here to keep our exit open and protect our backs. The rest of you with me.”
“Don't forget to grab me some of those alien weapons,” Cleveland called out, as the men headed along the passage.
The SEALs halted at the armory door, which was a little larger than normal. Though the corridor lights were off, the tiny light on the door panel indicated it still had power. After the men had stood back and aimed their weapons at the door, Crowe pressed the button. The door rasped open to reveal a small chamber and six-feet away another door that wouldn't have looked out of place protecting a bank vault. A light flickered on when they entered. While Stedman, Crowe and Sullivan guarded the corridor, Colbert and Ramirez approached the impressive door.
“This could be a problem,” stated Ramirez, running a hand over the cold metal.
Colbert had reached the same conclusion. To have come so far, faced so much and lost a good friend, their mission now seemed doomed to failure. He crossed to a small control console on a side wall. With the inclusion of the alien hand-shape recessed into the top, it was obviously a hand scanner and the door could only be opened by those authorized to do so. With nothing to lose, he placed his hand in the larger alien crew size indent. A green light lit up his hand and buzzed for a moment before turning red. The door remained closed. He stepped aside as Ramirez unwrapped a roll of tools taken from his rucksack and watched him begin dismantling the device. The ship was too fragile to risk blowing open the door, though they would have to try if Ramirez failed to jury rig it.
*****
Cleveland turned away from staring down the corridor the men had taken and walked around the room, checking all the other corridor exits were clear of anything creeping up on him. As he passed the open elevator a sound halted him and focused his light and gaze on the dark opening. Though he thought it was probably nothing but his nerves reading danger into an innocent sound, he took a few steps nearer and cocked an ear at the deep shaft. Though the clicking and scratching sounds were faint, they couldn't be ignored. They didn't want to encounter any surprises when it was time to leave. A few more steps brought him to the edge of the long drop. He listened again, but this time heard nothing out of the ordinary. To double-check, he leaned forward and shone his light into the shaft. The beam highlighted the walls descending into the darkness, but nothing else. Something warm, wet and slightly viscous splattered on his hand. The threat of danger tilted his gaze upwards. The Insectoid assassin perched on the wall above dropped. Cleveland lashed out with the rifle but the creature's surprise attack had caught him off guard. It crashed into him and knocked him into the shaft. His head struck the wall with enough force to crack his skull and plunge him into unconsciousness.
The Insectoid abandoned the falling body for the wall and climbed back up.
*****
It took Ramirez almost three minutes of probing and cross-connecting the strange cabling before he hit lucky and the red light turned green. When the door swung silently open, bright white lights flashed on along the room's length and highlighted the racks of impressive alien weapons lining both long walls. The two men entered and let their excited gazes wander over the strange weaponry.
Colbert smiled. “Christmas has arrived early this year.”
They walked past the racks and admired the weapons for a few moments before Ramirez selected a type of rifle. He examined the controls briefly before locating the switch to turn it on concealed behind a small sliding cover and powered up the weapon. He turned a dial marked with increasing larger dots to one midrange and aimed the weapon at the door opposite to the one they had entered. A squeeze of the trigger sent a small blue ball of light that grew to a foot across as it flew the length of the room before exploding in a bright flash on the door. “Well, they work. Now all we have to do is decide which ones to take and how many.”
Leaving Crowe guarding the corridor, Sullivan and Stedman entered and gazed in amazement at the alien weaponry.
“We'll have to keep our assault rifles as we need the lights,” said Stedman, running a hand lovingly over one of the sleek rifles.
Ramirez walked farther along the racks. “I suggest we pick a selection, two rifles each and a couple of the smaller pistol types.”
“I agree,” said Colbert. “We can't afford to burden ourselves with too many.”
While the men each chose their weapons, Colbert again tried to contact Control, but without success. It was time to put operation Phoenix into action. “Ramirez, once you've picked out what you're taking, set the explosives.” Colbert walked the room choosing from the types on offer ones he could easily carry.
Stedman opened a metal box and peered inside at the transparent globes set in soft hollowed out compartments. “Commander, I think these might be alien grenades.”
Colbert joined Stedman and took the globe he handed him. He stared at the purple haze filling the globe before handing it back. “Leave them. It might be some type of chemical weapon and we could end up gassing ourselves.”
Stedman returned the globe carefully to its compartment and closed the lid.
When Sullivan had selected all he could carry comfortably, he swapped places with Crowe in the corridor so the man could choose his own.
When they all had alien weapons―includ
ing some for Cleveland―the men left the room.
Colbert approached Ramirez, who was busy connecting thin yellow cables to a timer. “All set, Ramirez?”
“I just need to know what time to set.”
“Twenty minutes should give us enough time to get clear. I'd like more, but as we don't know how far away the Russians are, I can't take the risk.”
Ramirez set the timer for twenty minutes and started the countdown.
“I think we may have a problem, Commander,” said Sullivan when Colbert exited the weapon store. “Stedman called out to Cleveland but he didn't reply.”
Colbert glanced along the corridor. “Assume there's a threat and be ready to retaliate, but we can't afford to hang about as in twenty minutes this level won't exist.”
The men moved along the corridor with cautious haste and entered the lobby with their weapons and lights sweeping the circular room, but found no sign of Cleveland.
“Cleveland,” called out Sullivan in a loud whisper.
As they crossed the room, they searched the floor for blood splatters or any other evidence of what might have happened to Cleveland.
Stedman focused his attention on the elevator and as he drew near his light aimed through the doors picked out a red splash on the shaft wall. “There's blood here.”
Colbert joined him and stared at the fresh blood and the dark opening. He glanced at Stedman. “Cover me.”
Stedman was joined by the others and they aimed their weapons at the opening. Colbert stood to one side of the elevator and leaned forward so he could peer inside. He sensed movement above and dodged back. Bullets struck the Insectoid that dropped into view. It shot against the far wall of the shaft and dropped from sight.
Colbert checked above the opening to ensure no more were lurking in ambush before peering down the shaft. Though he couldn't see anything, he sensed something was coming. He glanced back at his men. “Anyone have a flare?”
Sullivan fished one from his pocket.
Colbert struck it and dropped it into the shaft.
