by Mark Tufo
Once I did, he pulled me in close. For such a large and rough looking being, it was an incredibly tender gesture. “Go, make us proud.” He stood and turned away from us. I don’t know if Genogerians cry, but that appeared to be what he was doing.
“And Tallow, Serrot, you do anything to harm either of my girls, I will chase you through the cosmos and into hell itself to personally deliver a justice that will make you wish the Stryvers had taken you back on that mountain top. We clear?” Mike asked.
Tallow nodded. Serrot gulped and told him, “Yes.”
“You keep an eye on these two,” he said to Lendor as he gripped his hand and shook it.
“Which two?” he asked.
“Both sets.”
“I will do that, Michael,” Lendor replied.
“Let’s go. We have two Rhodies to round up. How much time, Tracy?”
“Not enough,” she said as they retreated to their ship.
“What other way would there be?” Dee asked and then they were gone.
6
Frost & Ferryn
“Dee, I don’t like the fact that we somehow missed two Rhodeeshians were on that ship,” Mike said.
“It is easy enough to understand when you realize that this is a variable we had thus far not encountered,” Dee replied.
“Can’t say I like that idea; if that’s the case, just how many other variables have we missed?”
“Likely, an infinite number of them.”
“Yeah, that’s rather terrifying, don’t you think?”
“You might view it as such. It’s just as likely this one could be extremely beneficial, perhaps there are others.”
“Dee, I hate to be construed as a pessimist…maybe let’s say, pragmatist. But if there are good possibilities, what are the odds there will be bad?”
Drababan could only stop to think on the question as Tracy cut in over the intercom. “Five seconds to takeoff. You know the drill.”
All the crew members grabbed fresh bags.
“You think we’ll ever get to the point where we won’t need these?” Mike tossed his used bag into a receptacle. “I swear to God, Mad Jack designed this flight so this would happen; probably gets a chuckle every time he thinks of us heaving our guts out.”
“Perhaps next time we are invited to his fiancée’s house for dinner you won’t tell her you would rather pull up and eat poisonous mushrooms from the backyard than the ham she spent all day preparing.”
“It was ham, Dee. How could she not know I don’t like ham? I’m pretty much a national treasure; she should know everything about me.”
“If she knew everything, she would have never invited you.”
“True.” Michael had to acquiesce; he stood as the breach team put the hull disconfigurer into place. “As always, Dee, if this goes sideways, just know I could never have a truer friend.”
“Likewise,” the Genogerian replied as he checked his armor then the charge on his weapon.
The disconfigurer rearranged the atoms in the hull to the point they were far enough apart that matter could move through; now all the occupants could see down the entire length of the corridor they were about to step onto.
“It’s dark,” Tracy needlessly told them. “General, I think we should abort.”
“Because of a burnt-out bulb or two?” Mike attempted to make light of the situation, but he knew better. “Are the DNA sequencers off?”
“Should be, sir,” Crewman Reynolds replied.
Mike was about to step off the ship and into the hallway before he turned back toward the crewman. “Should be? That doesn’t exude confidence.”
“Sir, all of my equipment is working. It says the signal was sent, but I am not getting confirmation to that effect. Sir, this did happen in training though, occasionally the send back signal would get lost or not be strong enough to reach the receiver.”
“We should have brought that Tallow kid along; he would have been a great test dummy.”
“Mike!” Tracy admonished him.
“What? I’m just saying, you saw the way he looked at my…”
“Eighteen minutes. You going to keep jabbering or get this done so we can go home.”
“Here goes nothing,” Mike said as he stepped out into the inky blackness
“Should have led with your head if that was the case,” Dee said as he strode past, illuminating a bright light mounted on the front of his rifle.
“How far?” Mike asked as the small squad moved quickly down the corridor.
“This should be it,” Dee said as he hit the entry button and nothing happened.
“Corporal Bircher, you’re up,” the General said.
The munitions expert attached a piece of wadding no bigger than a skipping stone. When that was sufficiently adhered to the door, he stuck in a small, metallic rod roughly the size of a toothpick.
He took a half step backward and said, “Fire in the hole!” with enough volume that his team could hear. The explosion, if it could be called that, was no louder than if a large paperclip had fallen to the floor. The door whirred then opened, as whatever had been keeping it locked had been released. Mike had his hand on the corporal’s shoulder, about to tell him “good job,” when Bircher was blown back with three large, burning, gaping wounds. Two to the chest and one had seared the right side of his face into a charbroiled mask of curled and blackened skin. Dee pulled Mike back as more rounds were shot through the opening.
“Spinner!” Mike said, holding his hand out but never taking his eyes off the doorway. When he had the small device in his hand, he held it up to his face, pressed two buttons, one to arm the device—the other to calibrate the weapon to know when to do what it was named for. He underhand lobbed the spinner. As it left his hand, the flat device opened up enough to allow three rotors to unfold. They increased speed enough to enable the spinner to hover in the air. It flew to the door then hooked a hard ninety-degree angle and flew in.
From inside the room, the five soldiers watched the unknown device come in. Before any of them could fire upon it, thin whips of fire lashed out and sliced through the necks of the two closest guards. Their heads fell to the floor, neatly cauterized by the very flame that had done them in. Blasts of fire spewed forth from the three remaining rifles as the men attempted to neutralize the new threat. Mike flipped a cover on the wrist device he was wearing. On the small screen, he could see the room as the spinner recorded it. He moved his finger, taking remote control of the weapon, bringing it closer to two of the men that were scrambling to get behind a table. Mike double tapped the screen and the needle thin flames once again burst forth, neatly removing the scalp of the closest man. His skull glistened wetly as his eyes crossed and he dropped to the floor.
Mike made the spinner dive to get the other man, who had gone to the deck. The beam cut a swath across his back, neatly severing his spinal column. He hollered out in pain and fear, instantly paralyzed. Just as he was turning it to pick up the fifth and final soldier, his screen went blank.
“Son of a bitch,” Mike said as he looked back up. “He shot it.”
“More soldiers are coming, Michael. We either do this now or we have to leave. We are running out of time.”
“Not sure how we can be running out of time when we are manipulating it for our own use,” Mike remarked.
“You know exactly what I meant.”
“You in there. Surrender and we’ll let you live!” Mike yelled.
Rifle blasts exited the door and were absorbed by the far wall in the hallway.
“I do not believe he is going to give himself up,” Dee said.
“No time for negotiations.” Mike poked his head in the door to see where the man was then ducked back just as a blast slammed into the doorframe, narrowly missing his ear. “Far back on the left,” he relayed the information. “Parker, go through straight to the side. There’s a large workbench; you won’t be exposed more than half a second. Don’t worry—he doesn’t have the greatest reaction
time, or aim, for that matter. Otherwise, he would have taken my head off.”
“What do I do when I get there, sir?”
“Nothing. You’re my distraction,” Mike told him.
“He doesn’t look overly pleased with your idea; perhaps I should go,” Dee stated.
“Not a chance. The guy could be asleep and blind and still hit your oversized hide. You’re up.” Mike clapped Parker on the soldier.
As he dove in, there were two shots. Mike was happy to note neither of them had hit his man. Mike fired three rounds as he framed himself neatly in the doorway. The first two were all it took. The surprised guard was shot twice in the chest and once in the neck; his rifle dropped noisily to the ground.
“Parker, you good?” Mike asked as he moved into the room, checking for any other surprises.
Dee had also come in and bent over to help the soldier up.
“I think so, sir,” Parker replied.
“He has not sustained any injuries,” Dee said as he roughly turned the man in a circle, looking for any wounds.
“Where the hell are the Rhodeeshians?” Mike asked. As he looked around, his gaze settled on a row of cages, all of them empty, though two of them had their doors open.
“I think I found one of them.” Dee was looking down.
“Grab it and let’s go,” Mike said.
“It would appear to be the other way around. Her fangs are pressing tightly against my calf. I fear if I move, she will bite.”
“Um, sir?” Parker gulped. “I think I found the other one’s friend.”
“Calf as well?” Mike’s view was obstructed by the bench.
“Thigh, sir.” Parker was looking down, beads of sweat falling from his brow.
“I’m coming around. Frost, is it? Ferryn? We’re friends, you and me. I was recently with Tabor; you remember her? Is she still part of your legacy?” Mike asked as he approached the two animals. The larger male hissed, snarled, and showed more of its teeth.
“Pressing harder sir!” Parker gritted.
Frost’s ears perked at the name “Tabor.” Mike knew where to direct his talk.
“You’re Frost, right? All white, seems a fitting name. You know what I’m talking about, girl. Tabor is a legend among the Rhodeeshians. I fought, well, to you it’s fought for me, I still fight alongside her. My name is Michael Talbot. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Frost did not let go, but her gaze was kept watchfully on Michael.
“You cannot be Michael Talbot,” the voice broadcast directly into his head. “Your species does not possess that type of longevity.”
“If you know Tabor and you know me, you also know we did…something with time. Something that Mad Jack was able to recreate in a more stable environment without all the side effects. I’m not of this time; I’m just here to help.”
Frost wasn’t budging.
“Frost, normally I realize that trust is something slow-forged, but time is something we have very little of. More of this ship’s personnel are coming, and they will overwhelm this position, killing us and recapturing you.”
“I will not allow us to be recaptured!” She was angry. “Those beings are vile!”
“Frost, I need you and Ferryn to trust me, to let me get you back to Winter and Cedar.”
“The sisters are well?” She softened.
“They are for now, but if we don’t get you back to them so you can escape, they may not remain so.”
“General! Footsteps!” was called in from the hallway.
“Look around, Frost. Even if you have doubts about who I am, you cannot doubt we are not on their side.”
Frost let loose a high-pitched chirp. Ferryn immediately let go of Parker’s leg just as Frost let go of Drababan’s.
“Thank you,” he told her.
She took many long sniffs of him before going over to Michael. He bent over so she could better smell him, she backed up and looked at him when she was done.
“It is true!”
“You ready to go?” he asked her.
“Anywhere is preferable to here.”
“They’re here, sir!”
“Get inside now!” he yelled.
The black hallway became a blazing shadowplay of lights as dozens, then hundreds of rounds blew through the darkness.
“This is Master Sergeant Belnot; there is no escape. Give yourselves up and you will be tried and then executed.”
“Lots of potential executing going on,” Mike said to no one. “Will the trial be fair?” He was stalling.
“If the trial ends in our execution, I do not think it will be fair,” Dee whispered.
“Shhh…I just want to see what he says.”
“All of our trials follow the law and are just.”
“How many end in execution?”
“Mike, you realize I can hear you, right?” Tracy asked, listening in on the conversation from the microphone and speaker built into his uniform.
“Of course I can. I’m just stalling so that more of them will pack in.”
“I’m not understanding how you think that is going to help.”
“You’re not going to like it, but we’re gonna need a shockwave.”
“You’re too close.”
“No choice. We’ve got half the ship’s combat force bearing down on us, not going to be able to fight our way through. I can hear you hemming and hawing, woman. Coming to attempt to rescue us isn’t going to work—we don’t have the forces available. Trust me on this; we’ll be alright.”
“Your spouse is correct. We are too close,” Dee said. Mike hurriedly attempted to cover up the pickup.
“What was that?” Tracy asked. “Did he say you were too close?”
“He said he has to pick his nose.”
“Are you coming out?” Belnot asked.
“We’re going over the benefits of a peaceful surrender. Parker wants to know if he could expect a decent final meal or will it be standard military food.”
“Come out now and I will personally make sure to spit on everything you eat.”
“I’m really starting to like this guy,” Mike said sarcastically. “He starts with one persona and rides it all the way to the end.”
“Bring the flayer,” Belnot said loud enough to make sure that those in the lab heard.
“Woman, I love you more than the earth and the moon, but you know what else I’m really, really fond of? My skin and the Master Sergeant out there wants to remove it from me. If I knew that was going to happen, I wouldn’t have bothered to go through my daily moisturizing routine.”
Parker looked to Dee. The Genogerian shrugged. “It is high time you knew, Corporal, the general has, for a long time, been clinically insane.”
The corporal didn’t know whether to think Drababan was joking or if his General was indeed crazy; both things were confusing to him.
“If I wasn’t clear, I’m saying they have a flayer, hon. You know their version is about the size of a toaster and is remotely operated. I could be a very red version of myself soon.”
“Give me a minute, Mike. You can’t just expect me to do this with you in range.”
“Might not have a minute, and yes, I fully expect you to do this.”
“You ordering me?” she asked.
“Well, since you are a colonel and I’m a general, I most certainly could, but you’re not so good at obeying orders, especially when they come from me. So no, I’m not ordering you, I’m asking you as your husband to hit this area with a shockwave now, before it’s too late. Dee? How far are we from our ship?” Mike finished.
“No more than a hundred feet.”
“Tracy, pitch the shot two degrees.”
“You’ve got fifteen seconds,” she replied. Mike could tell she was worried.
“Really wishing we still had that door in place. Let’s go, everyone, as far into this room as possible and get low to the ground. I want you all to pretend you’re part of the flooring. No looking up at all, for any r
eason. Could very well be the last thing you do.”
“Sir, the flayer is at the door,” Parker said.
“What the hell did I say about looking up? Belnot!” he yelled. “We surrender! We surrender. Don’t shoot…we’re coming out!”
“Too late. If this goes to trial I’ll only have to use up some of my free time to testify, and I hate that.”
Mike figured it was going to be a neck-and-neck photo finish to see who pushed the trigger of their respective weapon first. Ultimately, he didn’t think it mattered all that much. Death by shockwave or death by flayer—both were going to be exceedingly horrible.
“Looks like Tracy won,” he said to a confused audience.
“What the hell is that?” Belnot asked in time to the heavy vibrations of metal scraping against metal. A truck with worn-out leaf springs, carrying a cargo of unwrapped, fine china and traveling over an unpaved, washed out roadway would have made a similar noise, but not with the same volume and vehemence as whatever was racing toward them like a runaway freight train.
“Don’t even try to cover your head! Too high!” Mike yelled. There were screams from the hallway as men and women were shaken apart.
A live demonstration had been performed of the weapon’s capabilities the previous year. It was the only time he’d had any compassion whatsoever for the Stryvers; at least, for this one in particular. The animal had been placed in a tungsten shipping container usually reserved for radioactive material. The walls were over a foot thick, and seemingly, nothing could break in or out. He’d not wanted to be there; all the muckety-mucks were out in the desert for the test. Mike had never been one for a dog and pony show, and honestly, he’d seen enough Stryvers blown up to last a lifetime. But this was the business of being a general in the United Earth Marine Corps; that, and the fact that Mad Jack had begged him. Mike kept looking over longingly to his shuttle, knowing it could whisk him back home, some two thousand miles away, in less than the time he could eat the lunch that he’d left aboard.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we stand on the edge of a new dawning. A new day is upon us. We know that the Stryvers favor the tactic of burrowing deep into the core of whatever planet they have infested.” Mad Jack spoke; there was a lilt in his voice. He’s excited for this, Mike thought. “Never again will we have to send soldiers down into their lairs or release megatons of explosives in a vain attempt to flush them out. I present to you the Shockwave!” A tall, green tarp emblazoned with the logo of the UEMC was pulled free from a device that was close to the size of a blue whale. Mike didn’t think it looked all that impressive, truth be told; it resembled a giant red school bus, though this thing had components sticking out from it on all sides.
