by Mark Tufo
“I know it looks enormous, but we are already working on a model that is half the size and nearly double the power of this prototype. Soon we will have the capability to mount this device on shuttles,” Jack said proudly. His audience did not react, as thus far, there was nothing worth getting excited about, and a slight disappointment fell across MJ’s features.
Mike was concerned by the size of the machine; if anything went wrong, he knew the spectators were entirely too close, and it wasn’t like MJ hadn’t had a test show go awry before. Just the previous year in Germany, he had launched the Spinner and quickly lost control; it had cut through two shuttles and the Germany Chancellor’s ski chalet.
“Okay, let’s get this started,” MJ said, not quite so inspired when he realized he hadn’t roused the kind of enthusiasm he’d predicted. There was the short bark of a siren as the machine started up and then…nothing. Thirty seconds passed. Those in the stands with me began to get uncomfortable in their embarrassment for the scientist, who was even now smiling madly as if he’d just created sliced cheese, the thought of which brought Mike back to his lunch. A minute later and now there was loud talking amongst the guests. Mike had even stood to go down and see what the matter was, or perhaps to thank everyone for their time as he dismissed the event.
Someone came off from the side and whispered in MJ’s ear. “Sorry!” he said loudly as he leaned down into his microphone. “The prototype has a significantly longer warm-up period; this was done to ensure safety. I can assure you, though, that in real-life scenarios the warm-up will be under thirty seconds.”
Mike was thinking that thirty seconds when the bullets were flying would be the end of a lifetime for many. The crowd was getting restless as the three-minute mark passed on by and still nothing happened; the desert sun was beating down upon them mercilessly.
“Ah, we’re ready,” MJ said, though how he knew was a mystery as nothing had changed; no lights went from red to green, there was no increase in noise, nor an explosion of any kind. “You’ll want to keep an eye on the monitor.” MJ pointed to the large screen behind him that should have been displaying the Stryver inside the large box off to the side.
“The screen is blank!” one of the men in the stands shouted, then under his breath he added, “Dumbass.”
“Colonel Trasker, could you bring whoever shouted that to me?” Mike asked, “And his commanding officer.”
“Of course, sir.” In less than a minute, a very red-faced Captain Garrett was standing ramrod straight in front of the senior-most officer in the entire world, along with his Commanding Officer, Colonel Killian.
“Captain Garrett? Hmm, who exactly are you? Can’t say I remember you from any of the many battles I have been in. Your name rings zero bells in terms of any significant contribution to the war effort, and I can see by your ribbonless chest you haven’t even been in long enough to earn a merit badge.”
“Graduated Annapolis last year sir, top of my class. Still in my MOS school,” the captain said proudly.
“Top of your class, good for you. Got to say I’m a little disappointed in Annapolis. I thought they were in the business of putting out some of the finest military personnel the world had ever seen. But that doesn’t seem to be the case, does it?”
“Sir?” the captain asked.
“Let’s see. I’ve got this smart-ass captain that hasn’t so much as seen a battlefield making derogatory comments to a man who singlehandedly found a way to turn the tide of a war we were losing rather badly.”
“There was no disrespect meant, sir.”
The general put his hand up. “I’ve got nothing else to say to you; you’ve already wasted more of my time than I’m comfortable with. Dismissed.”
“Sir.” The captain appeared as if he wanted to plead his case.
“Which part of dismissed has gone over your head? Colonel Killian, you and I have seen our fair share of battles. Have you perhaps worn yourself so thin that you would allow such insubordination in your ranks?”
“No sir, Captain Garrett is an anomaly.”
“An anomaly that you plan on taking care of?”
“You have no idea, sir,” the colonel replied.
“Captain, you were dismissed. If you can’t follow this most basic of commands, I suggest you go back to the street corner you were hanging out on before you joined my Marines Corps!” Mike shouted. The captain double-timed it back to his seat.
“My apologies, sir,” the Colonel said. “He actually is a good soldier; sometimes, he just likes to try too hard to get a laugh from those around him.”
“Don’t go crazy on him, George; I just wanted to put a little fear into him.”
“Yes, sir,” the Colonel replied.
“Good to see you. How are the wife and kids? And that Great Dane you had to have, what’s her name, Sadie? I hear that they’re still cleaning drool out of the shuttle you transported her in. I had to throw that uniform away, by the way.” Mike was smiling.
“All doing good, sir. I’ll tell the wife you were asking about her.”
Mike shook his hand. “Alright. I think MJ is finally ready; don’t be a stranger.” The colonel got to the position of attention and saluted. Mike returned it and the colonel went back to his seat just as the show really got underway.
Colonel Trasker was smiling. “That captain is in for a rough ride.”
Mike was about to respond but he thought he noticed something flicker across the screen; it looked like a picture that would have been on a damaged old VHS tape. The edge of the tungsten box wavered; he at first rejected it, believing it to be something attributed to the video feed. But the wave moved across the screen and toward the Stryver, who knew something was happening and had pushed up against the far side of the box, its arms out in a defensive gesture. Mike noticed more and more people’s heads were turning from the monitor to the actual box. He turned quickly, not wanting to miss anything, and his gaze stuck there. The box had somehow become invisible—or worse yet, disappeared, which meant that a pissed off and scared Stryver would soon be running amok…but if the box had melted away, the Stryver made no indication it had seen it.
A piercing squeal ripped the audience’s attention from the disappearing box and to the Stryver; the strange wave had come into contact with its forearms and they shimmered and vibrated at a pace that, for a moment, looked as if they were in a paint mixer. Unlike the box, the animal’s arms did not disappear but began to expand—as if they were being shaken apart. Black arms gave way to red muscle. Mike thought it looked like a textbook illustration, an exploded view image of the Stryver. The Stryver threw its head back as the wave came into contact with its body. The beast was attempting to climb the wall, but there was no escape from this grisly end. When it was over, the box itself was a twisted, mangled wreck; the body of the Stryver had been reduced to pieces no larger than a dime.
MJ looked back to the audience once the test was complete. The expressions on the faces that looked back at him ranged from disbelief to disgust with a smattering of awe. The weapon was a game changer; one that could finally change the already altered course of man, and one that might, hopefully, put them back on top for good.
“Any questions?” MJ asked.
It was Drababan who stood. “What are the repercussions to the earth once you start sending this signal into it?”
“We are currently working on devices that will be able to discern between organic and inorganic material. There will be some residual damage to the surrounding terrain, but not to the same magnitude as what you are seeing here.”
“MJ.” Mike stood.
“Yes, General?”
“And what about damage to other organic material?”
“I’m sorry, sir, everything not considered the enemy will be collateral damage.”
“Hmm,” Mike replied. “The weapon is incredible, MJ, and I applaud you and your entire team, but I would also like a cursory study on the projections for damage to the ecosystem.”
“Seems it finally came to fruition,” Mike said.
“Mike!” Tracy yelled frantically through the microphone.
“We’re fine,” Mike replied, looking at the twisted and skewed room.
“Not for long. There is a hull breach, about three feet long at the moment, but it’s expanding quickly.”
“My ass he figured out the physics of ‘just hitting organic compounds.’ Up, everyone, up.” He quickly explained that there was a hole in the side of the ship but it became unnecessary as they heard the whistle of oxygen and saw nearby objects being pulled out into the vacuum of space.
“Tracy, going to need a new extraction point,” Mike yelled over the rush of air and the blaring klaxon.
“Undocking now…wait one.” He could hear the strain in his wife’s voice as she sought another way out for them. “Same hallway, one deck lower, but hurry before the hull split catches up.”
“How much time?” Mike motioned for those with him to follow.
“Three minutes.”
“Anything else?” Mike asked.
“At least it doesn’t bring you past every gun on that ship.”
He got the message. “We’re headed to the deck below this one, same hallway. Let’s move!” It was not lost on anyone that the red mist flowing past them was what remained of the men attempting to kill them.
“Anyone have a clue where the stairwell is?” Mike asked. “Parker?” The corporal had studied the layout of the ship for the mission.
“No stairwells in this area, sir.”
“That would explain the reason it took them so long to respond,” Drababan replied.
“Elevator?” They were still running.
“Pneumatic tubes, sir,” Parker said breathlessly.
“Like old school banks?”
“Something like that, sir.”
“Get us there.”
Parker looked over his shoulder at his commanding officer as if to say: “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
The sound of the venting air was much less loud the further they moved. It gave them an opportunity to hear their labored breathing as they ran hard, but also the many footfalls of boots that were coming on an intercept course to stop them.
Frost, who had been running alongside Michael, pulled out into the lead. A soldier dressed in all white camouflage, the better to match the environment, turned the corner and was bringing his rifle up when Frost launched and struck him square in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. She immediately sank her fangs deep into the side of his neck, pumping him full of venom. His body went rigid before she could jump off of him.
“Sir, we need to cross over the juncture point, tube is right past it,” Corporal Parker pointed.
“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be,” Mike said. “Dee, going to need you to feedback a rifle.”
“That will take too long,” the Genogerian replied. The running had stopped as the soldiers began to get into position. Mike knew at any moment they would begin to flood out of the hallways they were in and rout their position.
“When I shoot, do your best to cover your eyes and hold your breath and go straight for the tubes,” Michael said as he aimed upwards.
“I take back some of the less positive things I have said about you,” Drababan said when he realized what his friend was attempting to do.
“At least you say them to my face,” Michael replied as he fired into the ship’s flame-retardant system. Instead of a controlled burst of the smothering material, it looked as if a bomb had exploded in a Christmas tree flocking factory. The air was thick with the particulates; Mike became disoriented. Thankfully, Drababan had grabbed his shoulder and guided him the way they needed to go. They stumbled their way through; Parker had pressed the wrong button, and they found themselves seven levels higher than they needed to be.
“Out,” Mike coughed, expelling a heavy, white breath. He shook the material off himself and helped the two Rhodeeshians. The tube itself was packed with the spray and it was practically impossible to see through to the back. Two crew members spotted the usurpers but turned and ran.
“Other tube,” Parker coughed as he pointed across the hallway and toward a clean transport.
“Mike, you have less than thirty seconds.” Tracy sounded as if she’d been waging her own battle.
In ten they found themselves on the correct level and running down the hallway; if they encountered any further delay whatsoever, the chances were very good they would never leave the ship alive.
“Got the opening, sir!” Parker exclaimed, peering through his helmet’s heads up display. “Crap,” he added at the end.
“Can you elaborate?” Michael asked as they moved quickly. Very rarely in a combat situation did the word “crap” equate to anything even remotely good. “Crap, the reinforcements have arrived! Crap, the enemy has surrendered!” Never anything like that.
“The crack in the hull is almost on the opening. There was no need to explain; once the split hit the seal it would break it and Tracy would lose contact with the ship and they would have to once again find an egress. But not only was the clock within the ship ticking; time was running out on the much more dangerous one that dictated how much time they had in this realm. Even if they somehow eluded capture or death from the Iron Sides’ personnel, they would not be quite so elusive with time itself.
“Frost, Ferryn, go!” Michael urged, knowing that the animals were much faster than the people they were running alongside. They did as he asked, knowing that to die now would make everything the humans had done for them in vain. “Dee!” Mike knew the Genogerian could also easily outpace him.
“No, Michael, I will not.”
Mike knew there was no way he could force his friend. He just put his head down and redoubled his efforts. His lungs burned, partly from the exertion, but mostly from the irritant he had breathed in.
“Hurry!” Tracy yelled through his earpiece; he didn’t respond, as that would take precious air away with the effort.
Mike was thankful when he looked up and saw Ferryn’s tail cross the threshold. So close, he thought as he looked to the ceiling of the hallway. He could see the material buckling under the strain of metal being twisted from the stresses being placed against it. They were within twenty feet when Mike’s hat was ripped from his head, and, for a micro-second, it plugged the hole that had opened up—at least until the hole widened.
They’d gone another five feet and they could feel themselves attempting to defy the ship’s gravity as the void beckoned them. Drababan had grabbed hold of Corporal Parker and heaved him through the opening.
Holding on to my dignity, Michael thought as he dove forward. Drababan and he landed on top of the stunned corporal as the small ship bucked wildly.
“Reynolds, they in?” Tracy yelled and begged at the same time.
“Got them, Colonel! GO!” he said as the ship fell away.
Drababan sat up; the entirety of his upper half was coated in the white, flame-killing material. Mike sat up as well, looked over to his friend and began to laugh in coughing bursts.
“I fail to see what is so funny,” Dee stated.
“Sorry…you look like you’ve been dredged through batter and are all ready for a good frying.”
“I cannot begin to count the number of times we nearly died or were gravely injured and yet here you find humor that I could be turned into some tasty carnival fare.”
“We lost a good man on that ship, and later tonight I’m going to grieve, mourn, and then write his loved ones a letter about his sacrifice and what it meant for us. But right now, my friend, I want to smile. I want to revel that we are still alive and that even with some losses, we
did ultimately succeed, and his death did mean something. And, oh yeah, I didn’t say anything about you being tasty.”
“I would be absolutely delicious! Look at these muscles!” Dee flexed. “And unlike you, I am not so inclined to ingesting food that is bad for me, like snack cakes. I am a delicacy.”
“Oh, who are you kidding. You drink Moxie by the drum-full—look like an old moonshiner sucking on one of those jugs.”
“You know the drill,” Tracy said evenly as everyone fitted their bags on and strapped in.
“Prepare for docking with the Ogunquit,” Tracy said.
Michael turned his attention to Frost and Ferryn. “I don’t know what parts you two play in all of this; I would imagine it is more than I can imagine.” Mike looked up and to the side. “Not sure if that makes sense, but the meaning is in there somewhere.”
“We thank you for all you have done for us, and especially for our species. We have lived through a great many generations, as we were meant to, thanks to you. That debt will never be forgotten. I can feel your anxiety for your kin; we will do all that we can to ensure their safety as you did ours,” Frost replied, bowing.
“Thank you. It means everything, knowing that you are by their side. Can you give them this? I was unsure if I would get any time with them and wrote this beforehand. Difficult to write a letter to someone you’ve never met.”
“They are much like you,” Frost replied.
“Not sure if that’s a good thing.” Mike smiled.
