by Angie Arland
“Shit, you guys, we’re using up the O2,” Mason cut though the laughter. “Stop laughing.”
“We can talk fine, just don’t get too excited,” Aiden suggested.
“I’ve never seen Harper excited,” Karson said.
Laughter aside, Aiden’s thoughts raced as he figured out their next move. If they started the ship’s systems too soon, the cruiser would detect them; yet, the longer they remained in Blackbody Radiation Mode, their chances of initiating the systems lessened as the liquid cooling systems froze and split the conduit. So, basically, they were doomed either way. He remained silent, not wanting to alarm the crew, but he guessed they already knew. They had all gone silent again, and Aiden didn’t know what to say.
Grimes broke the silence. “Karson, you never did tell us what Harper got up to on our last patrol. I heard rumors. Come on, fess up, we’re all going to die anyway, so your secret is safe.”
“Do our helmet lights have an off switch?” Harper’s face seemed to flush in the dim light.
“Come on, mate, it’s not that bad.”
“Go ahead,” Harper gave in. “I know you’ll tell them anyway.” The SigsOp slumped in his chair.
“If you insist. So, the recovery crew were waist-deep in nutrient and loading the haulers to the hilt while Harper and I left to do a perimeter check. Instead of doing his patrol duty, looking out for squid, Harper’s watching the ground, weapon loaded, ready to shoot anything that crawled across his path. We hadn’t even made it halfway round the route, when he decides he’s hungry. Anyway, he plonks his ass down on a rock and starts rummaging through his backpack. I’m talking every single pocket and pouch, looking for some damned apricot bar he’d stashed away.”
“And that’s funny how?” Grimes asked. “I mean, I understand the bug part, and I love those apricot bars…”
“Oh, there’s more. I went off for a leak, as one does, and when I returned, we had unexpected company. Except Harper had no idea that about twenty feet behind him stood a terudithan watching his every move. Harper was throwing crap out of his backpack left, right and center, cursing every one of us for taking his frecking apricot bar. Meanwhile, the squid bastard has its head cocked to the side, you know, like Spero does when she’s trying to figure something out. Funny thing was, it was so engrossed on Harper’s frantic rummaging, it didn’t spot me on its six. Then I see the squid is already eating the apricot bar! It’s standing there watching Harper while eating the guy’s food…”
Grimes and a few of the others chuckled.
“Did you kill the bastard?” Mason grunted.
“Well, I waited until the nice Terudithan soldier dropped the wrapper, turned its head, and saw me, then I precisely embedded a plasma blast into its huge cranium. It exploded like a watermelon at ten yards. Thought I’d let it enjoy its last meal and all first, I’m good like that. Anyway, Harper spins around and sees the squid scum’s brains plastered over the rocks, the look on his face is priceless. Then he spots the empty wrapper…” Karson paused to suppress a giggle, “…he was more pissed that the squid ate his apricot bar than he was at almost losing his frecking life.”
Fits of laughter erupted through the comms.
“Liar!” Harper yelled with a glare, cutting through the cacophony.
One by one, they fell silent.
“It was a honey nut bar,” Harper’s glare vanished. “I hate the apricot ones; they taste like freshly-mined nutrient.”
Laughter burst again and even Harper smiled.
Spero whined from her crate through the comms. Aiden went to check on her and put his helmet near hers. “It’s okay, girl. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He stayed with Spero a few ems before he stood and turned, almost tripping over Karson’s foot in the dim light as he returned to his Command chair.
“Sir? I can’t get a response from the engine room,” Co-pilot Reece said, concern in his voice.
“I ordered all comms to remain open.” Aiden couldn’t work out why the hell the old man would disconnect his comms at a time like this. “Mister Finnegan, do you copy? Finnegan, respond…Ryder, is there a way to check if his comm-link is working?”
“Not without access to my console, sir.”
“Mister Finnegan? Respond, dammit!” Had he lost touch with his crew so much they no longer respected his orders? Between Mister Finnegan and Dr. McNeill, he didn’t know which was worse.
“Sir, permission to open the blast doors?” Reece asked over the comms.
“He’s probably turned the holo-comm off again,” Aiden said, trying to comfort him.
“Sir,” Reece said, “that’s my grandpa back there, and he’s all I have left.”
Aiden did not need another Harper on his hands. “I’m aware of that, Reece, but five hermetically-sealed blast doors are between us and the engine room.”
“I’ll use the manual override at each door and reseal them behind me.”
Reece had been sitting in the cockpit while they were all bickering or laughing, maybe feeling a bit apart from the crew, and now he was worried like hell his grandpa was dead. Poor kid, Aiden thought. “It’s not your duty, Reece. Remain at your station. I’ll take care of your grandpa.”
“Let me help, sir,” Reece pleaded.
Aiden ignored him. “Mister Finnegan? If I find you’ve turned off—”
“I’m f-fine,” Finnegan panted over the comms.
“You had us worried. Glad to hear you’re still kicking.” The old man didn’t sound so good.
“Barely,” Finnegan said. “I must have blacked out. I think I might have broken something in my hand. It’s swollen and my glove won’t lock. Losin’ air.”
“You might have mentioned that before we sealed five blast doors.”
“And we’d be terudithan fodder by now; besides, there wasn’t time. I’ve taped my wrist to slow the leak, but it’s still gettin’ on the low side. I’m fine…just get my grandson and everyone back to the fleet safe, you hear?” Mister Finnegan’s voice faltered as he shut down the open comms, only leaving a direct channel to Aiden. “Tell Reece I’m sorry. I can’t talk to him right now, can’t bring myself to…I-I’ve let him down. Promised I’d take care of him and—”
“Tell him yourself, once we get you patched up.” Aiden checked his O2. They had more than a few hours remaining, though he probably shouldn’t have burned so much arguing and laughing.
“Don’t be an idiot…You won’t reach…” Mister Finnegan’s voice petered off.
Aiden started for the door to leave the hub. “I’m going to assist Mister Finnegan.”
“Let me go, sir,” Grimes said, stepping between Aiden and the exit. “I’m up for it. And I’m more expendable than the C.O. of our ship.”
“Count me in too,” Mason came forward.
“Hey, I want in then.” Weps Karson stood from his chair.
“Good lord, people. Does anyone respect…? Look, we can’t all go. Everyone just stay put and be ready to reinitialize the ship’s systems once we’re sure the terudithan threat has passed.” Aiden shook his head. “I appreciate everyone’s willingness to put themselves on the line for our engineer, but this is my responsibility. If anything happens to Mister Finnegan, we’ll be stranded on this rock for good.”
Fourteen
Doctor William McNeill switched on his EVA suit’s arm-light and directed the beam at the alien remains spread across the dissection table.
Green refrigerant fluid drained through the table’s grates into biowaste canisters. He’d already performed the requisite tomography scans for 3D imaging earlier, but it was only accessible if the ship had power or, at least, charged spool chambers—of which they had neither. Well, like they said during pathology coursework as they plumbed mutated cadavers, nothing beat a hands-on examination.
William grumbled as vibrations from the asteroid shuddered through his lab. One day, he’d have a secure laboratory in a stable location, equipped with every diagnostic tool and device he could ever wan
t or need. With the genetic data he had collected thus far, he was sure Doctor Talbot would be riveted by his findings. Everything was safely stored and encrypted on his personal holochron device, which he would love to be able to access if it weren’t beneath his EVA suit.
Nevertheless, he’d finally attain the promotion he deserved and get the hell out of space duty.
Another grinding shudder ran through the hull, and the alien remains jiggled about. William snorted and shook his head. One day soon, his life would change, and past mistakes would be just that—past.
He cranked up the magnetization of his boots to fifty percent and gripped the table with his left hand, stabilizing himself. Although the Terudithan soldier’s body remained intact, the head was a mass of bloody tissue and coagulated violet-pink blood thanks to Noah Karson and his infernal need to shoot everything in sight.
William’s helmet comms crackled with static. He smacked the side of his helmet, which, of course, achieved nothing. He’d bypassed the system check requested by the ship’s captain, and it was too late to replace the helmet comms now.
Not that anyone needed him. He wasn’t a welcome part of the crew, which was how he preferred it. He had plenty of research to keep him occupied, he despised interruptions, and he certainly wasn’t aboard this junker to make friends.
William was close to a breakthrough. He could feel it. He snickered. This would show Talbot he was the best candidate for Chief Science Specialist on board the Xenia, not that weevil son-of-a-bitch Garcia, who took all the glory with his latest supposition about the terudithans being of marine origin. The doctor had no basis or genetic proof for his hypothesis, just a series of petty trials in the V-Rep with no proof in the field.
William could not wait to wipe the smug look off his face.
Marine origin, indeed.
The hull shrieked, an obvious sign of an accelerated decrease in temperature. William gazed around, watching the glass surfaces ice over. He peered at the terudithan corpse, pleased with himself he’d anticipated the drop and remembered to drain the preservatives.
“I’d like to see Garcia survive out here,” William grumbled.
Sometimes it amazed him he was still alive, living onboard this substandard ship with a substandard crew. He’d overheard other scientists boasting about lending their expertise to their ship’s crew and receiving respect in return. William grunted. That was never going to happen, not with these people.
As soon as they got back, he’d accept his new position with grace, and he’d never have to leave the safety of the fleet again.
He fumbled with the nanowire scalpel, cursing his EVA suit’s gloves and their uselessness. No one asked scientists for their input on the design. If that were the case, he’d add implements for taking biological samples and, well, performing autopsies…just make the damnable thing more streamlined and easier to move in.
Scalpel within grasp, he activated the kinetic edge to slice through dense layers of skin and sinew into the chest cavity. He’d performed the procedure numerous times, but now he had new data, an algorithm he may have borrowed from Garcia’s holochron device when he was out of the lab.
Sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked, focusing on his subject. With all the terminals and lab equipment off, his labored breath and the squelching of alien tissues were the only sounds in the room. He separated stiff epidermal layers and gelatinous membranes, spreading them across its chest cavity like butterfly wings, then proceeded to cut through striated tissue until he uncovered the cage-like ribs. Using the laser rib-cutter, he parted bone with deft precision, some blood particles in the frigid air deposited speckles of violet-pink on his helmet’s visor.
A shiver ran down William’s spine. His sense of awareness caused him to hold up his arm torch and glance around the lab. The shadows gave him the creeps, but he saw nothing and returned to his work.
Using toothed forceps, he cut and removed the two pairs of lungs—small in comparison to human ones yet more efficient—and placed them in sample containers. He fumbled as he sealed each one, damning the clumsiness of his suit; under normal circumstances, he would be wearing tight, sterile gloves.
The helmet’s glow lit the chest cavity enough to inspect its four-chambered heart, slightly smaller than a human’s, but with strong, fibrous right and left aortas. Giving the heart a gentle squeeze, he collected a sample of the violet-pink corpuscular hemerythrin blood. Once capped inside the test tube, William secured it inside a protective canister with the lung samples and turned back to the corpse to continue dissecting.
“Now the digestive system...”
He retrieved the scalpel and made an incision down the digestive tract, noting his hands trembled as he did so.
“Calm yourself, William,” he said.
Switching to hemostatic forceps, he clipped one to either side of the tract and forced it to open. Undigested food remained in the tract—just the sample he hoped for. He grasped the bolus with the forceps and dropped it into a large test tube, then held it up to the helmet light.
“What’s this?”
He noticed what appeared to be a clump of nuts.
How can that be? They only ate marine species…squid, octopus, fish.
William pushed a panel on the inner forearm of his suit. It opened, and he toggled the touchpad. His helmet emitted a blue beam.
“Run chemical analysis,” he said, putting the tube in front of the light.
The beam confined to a cone shape and reflected a grid pattern on the undigested bolus.
The readout on his screen scrolled up:
> solid contents 49.503%
> moisture contents 47.394%
>... remaining contents various gasses <
“Run solid contents analysis, digestive,” he said.
>... Solid contents analysis—digestive...
> crude fat 17.46%
> carbohydrates 17.022%
> protein 5.995%
> binding agent—
“Stop. Run protein analysis.”
>... Protein analysis...
> whole grain oats 64.79%
> peanuts 22.481%
> banana—
“Stop…” William’s puzzled expression transformed into a slight smile.
A nutrient bar? Made from fleet contents?
So, terudithans didn’t just live on squid and sea animals! Although the particles indicated little apparent digestion, they remained in the subject’s digestive tract.
It ate a damned fleet nutrient bar!
William switched off the analysis beam and turned back to the subject. He cut open the stomach bag, and the contents spilled out, revealing small bits of undigested nuts within the concoction of gastric enzymes and acids.
He stepped backed and gazed at the open cavity. He wanted to fold his arms while contemplating, but the EVA suit’s bulk didn’t allow it.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he said.
Why would it eat something that didn’t agree with its own physiology? When they turned the power back on, he’d summarize his findings and scan the database for any trace of previous research. He seriously doubted he’d find anything. It may seem inconsequential, but terudithans demolished worlds for access to the bounty within their oceans.
Another interesting find: although the 3D imagery bore out similarities between the terudithan and the database of samples and its epidermal and subdermal layers were, more or less, identical, internally it was quite different. He didn’t understand the reason behind the difference yet, but he was getting closer.
Earlier studies in the Terudithan Research Division considered the aliens clones, alluding to their numbers being of such magnitude, they were unlike any other species ever encountered.
Simpletons.
That theory was quashed as the telomeres from multiple samples proved they were, indeed, not clones. Terudithan breeding habits remained a mystery however, one that may never be revealed to him unless he was lucky enough to observe the aliens mati
ng in their own environment.
What a sight that would be.
William went to take a liver sample. He pushed the scalpel firmly, but it couldn’t cut the organ. The subject’s liver was as solid as stone. He checked the scalpel blade by slicing through some random connective tissue, which gave a decent amount of resistance.
He stepped back and shone his light-beam around the lab. Mist rose from the alien and, when he prodded the body, found it was frozen solid.
He grunted and activated his comms. “Doctor McNeill to Command Hub, why is my body frozen down here?”
He waited for a response, but none came. “This is Doctor McNeill. Hello?”
Broken words came through the helmet comms: “—barely…must ‘ave blacked out…. I think…might ‘ave broken something in my…swoll…glove won’t…ing air fas—”
William realized his outgoing comms weren’t functional. To make matters worse, the only person that could fix the engine, Mister Finnegan, was in dire straits. It was imperative they make it back to fleet before Doctor Talbot made his decision! Besides, Mister Finnegan was the only person on board that took interest in his work, even if he was just being polite. They had a mutual respect for one another’s unique abilities, unlike the rest of the crew; that, and the fact that they were the only two on board that had ever set foot on Earth. It gave them a close enough bond. William thought about it and realized it was the closest he’d been to anyone in decades.
A single blast door separated his lab and the engine room. He wasn’t going to wait for a bunch of Neanderthals to figure out a way to rescue his ticket back. He was thankful he always wore his encrypted holochron—which held Garcia’s algorithm for safekeeping. He checked the power level on the nano-scalpel; he’d need it to melt the frozen door controls.
“That should work.” William grabbed the supplies, adding a med-pak, and headed for the blast door toward the engine room, one magnetized step after another.
Fifteen
Tayla floated in the water, the sun warming her body. Sinking deeper into the warmth, she allowed the salt air to envelop her senses. Something brushed her leg, but she ignored it. The Tamar River was full of harmless jellyfish and seaweed this time of year. The warmth of summertime felt delicious on her cool skin.
