The Final Battle

by Anna Wu

  Chapter 40: Making Humpty Dumpty Talk

  Sheen struggled to continue walking down the twisting hallways. He was still brandishing his shotgun. He pumped it once more; just to be sure that a shell was ready to be fired. He turned another corner, swung the gun in front of him, and saw no enemies. He lowered his gun slightly and took a deep breath.

  He finally came up to a door at the end of a hallway. He had no idea how long he had been navigating the maze of corridors. For all he knew he had been walking in a giant circle. Slowly, he limped up to the door.

  He kicked it open with his good leg and aimed his shotgun straight ahead. The final two pilots were in the small room. Hundreds of buttons, dozens of monitors, and three seats were all that was in the small area. One of the pilots sat calmly in his seat, maneuvering the ship through all of the chaos. The other Yolkian stood in front of Sheen, an electric spear in his hands.

  Sheen didn't was in no condition for another elaborate shootout. He pulled his trigger, and the alien's shell exploded as his control panel short-circuited. The spear fell to the ground and retracted itself. Sheen turned his attention to the other pilot, who was still maneuvering the ship. Sheen saw that his body was trembling and his fingers were twitching, however.

  Sheen bent down and yanked the fallen pilot's brain out. He then stood back up and closed the door to the room. He took a few steps forward and nudged the shotgun into the remaining pilot's back. "Hey, Humpty Dumpty, stop the ship." The pilot continued pressing buttons, and the ship didn't stop.

  Sheen hesitated for a few seconds. He needed this Yolkian. But if it wasn't going to help him, he was impeding his progress and would be destroyed. He decided to give the alien one more chance.

  Sheen slammed the shotgun into the Yolkian's glass visor, which promptly shattered. The Yolkian fell to the ground and started to spill out onto the floor. Sheen quickly kneeled down and pushed the green goo back into its shell, but not before ripping one of the alien's eyes out. The Yolkian let out a high pitched screen of pain.

  Sheen picked up the Yolkian and placed him in the pilot's seat. The Yolkian wobbled a little, but soon regained its balance. Sheen shoved his hand into the Yolkian's body and wrapped his fingers around the quivering creature's brain.

  "I have had enough of you freaks. STOP THE SHIP!" He shouted as loud as he could while tightening his grip on the Yolkian's brain.

  "Ok!" The alien shouted while feverishly pressing buttons. A few seconds passed, and the ship slowed down. "It's stopping!"

  Sheen's arms began shaking. The shotgun was becoming too heavy, and he was getting tired. He dropped the shotgun and pulled a lighter pistol out of his waistband. "Good. You keep doing as I say and you might get through this in one piece."

  The Yolkian continued trembling in silence as Sheen pondered his next move. "You know how to fly this ship?" He finally asked.

  The alien continued to shake in both fear and silence. Sheen scraped his index finger's fingernail against the Yolkian's brain. "Yes," it immediately answered.

  Sheen nodded, satisfied. "What's your name?"

  "Dopsil," the Yolkian replied.

  "Dopsil, I want you to make your autopilot fly this ship to the Yolkian home world."

  The Yolkian ran his hands along the control panel in front of him, pressing numerous buttons and flicking switches all the while. Sheen kept his grip on the Yolkians brain, occasionally pinching a part of it. After a few seconds, the Yolkian stopped inputting commands and held his hand over a single button.

  "You'll never get through our planet's defenses in one piece," he told Sheen as forcefully as he could muster.

  Sheen smiled. "Don't worry about that. Just get me there."

  Dopsil stared at him for another couple of seconds before pressing the final button. The ship abruptly stopped, and then changed direction. "Good, very good," Sheen said while taking his hand out of the Yolkian's body. "How long until we reach your world?" He questioned while sitting down in the seat next to Dopsil.

  Dopsil pressed a few more buttons and stared at the monitor in front of him. "In human terms, around twenty-three hours."

  Sheen nodded while leaning farther back in his seat. He clutched his stomach wound and breathed deeply. "Now teach me how to fly this thing."

  Dopsil let out a shrill squeak, but was quickly silenced by a menacing glance from Sheen. "Human, it can take two cycles to become qualified to pilot this ship. Learning how to activate the coolant systems alone could take…"

  Sheen clenched his teeth and held his pistol less than an inch away from the Yolkian's one remaining eye. Dopsil immediately froze and fell silent. "I suggest," Sheen uttered with a tired frown, "that you give me a crash course."

  For the next hour, Dopsil quickly went over the basic controls for the ship. He taught Sheen how to steer, how to accelerate and decelerate, where the emergency escape pods were, and a few other fundamental tasks. Sheen struggled to keep his eyes open and concentrate. He was dying of thirst.

  "Are you alright?" Dopsil warmly asked. He noticed that Sheen seemed to be fading away. Sheen coughed violently for a moment and shook his head. Dopsil reached towards a compartment in his shell and was about to push a button when Sheen spoke.

  "Reach for that spear and I rip your brain out," Sheen groaned.

  Dopsil immediately withdrew his hand and sat back in his seat. Sheen weakly drummed his fingers against the control panel. Alright, I've learned all I can from this guy. "Dopsil, I will now take you to the escape pods. Since you've helped me, I will let you go, as promised."

  Dopsil stared at his captor quizzically while slowly getting out of his chair. "Really?"

  Sheen laughed while lightly slapping the Yolkian on the back. "Of course. Come on, show me where they are."

  The Yolkian moved in front of Sheen and began to hover across the room. Suddenly, Sheen lashed out with his left hand, shoved it inside the Yolkian, and ripped its brain out. The entire process took less than two seconds.

  Sheen watched as the Yolkian fell to the ground and spilled out of its container. Its color changed from bright green to a dull grey. Sheen gave the brain in his hand one final squeeze before throwing it down onto the ground.

  "Sorry," he said while wiping the goo from his hand onto his pants, "but if I couldn't trust my own friends to rescue me, how could I trust you?"

  Sheen stared down at the fallen Yolkian for another second before holstering his pistol. He wiped the last few drops of slime from his hand and walked out of the pilots' room.

  "Twenty-two more hours to kill," Sheen mumbled to himself while walking through the maze of hallways. "I hope I last that long."

  Sheen bent over and clutched his knees. He coughed violently for two more minutes, and then finally vomited. He wiped his mouth and saw blood on the top of his arm. He touched his nose and saw that it was bleeding again. He was suffering the symptoms of the final stages of dehydration. Without the Yolkians to fight, there was nothing to distract him from the cold hard truth. He was about to die.

  He continued to absent-mindedly limp his way through the ship as his mind wandered. I don't think I've lost too much blood. Close to life-threatening, but not quite fatal. But I need water.

  As he pondered that last thought, he tripped over his own feet and landed flat on the ground. "Darn it," he moaned while struggling to stand up. He rubbed his left knee, which had absorbed the worst of the fall. He then noticed that there was a door to his right.

  "Where the heck am I walking to, anyway?" he inquired while staring at the door. He shrugged and walked inside.

  Sheen spun around and stared at the room as he walked into it. The purple lights that occupied the second floor had been replaced by the familiar yellow lighting that Sheen was used to. Several comfy chairs lined the walls. A table sat in the center of the room, with an array of technological devices sitting on top of it. Sheen hobbled over to the table and picked up a small circular object. He pressed a blue button, and strange symbols scrolled across t
he screen. He tried to figure out what they meant, but he couldn't decipher it. He dropped it back onto the table and continued examining the room.

  As he finished looking around the room, his tired and glazed eyes suddenly lit up. In the far right corner of the room was what looked to be the alien equivalent of a refrigerator. Sheen hobbled over to it and tried to open it, but it was locked. He shot the handle several times, and the door swung open.

  "Sweet mother of Ultralord," he whispered while his jaw dropped. Inside the refrigerator were several bottles of a green, lumpy liquid. His mouth immediately watered, and he licked his chapped lips.

  Sheen knew that it was foolish to guzzle down a strange, alien liquid. For all he knew, it was some kind of motor oil for their robotic shells. But he was far too thirsty to care. He grabbed one of the cylindrical bottles and tried to open the cap, but it wouldn't budge.

  "Don't panic!" He frantically screamed while using the last of his strength to pull on the cap. It still didn't move. He was about to give up when he saw a small red button on the side of the bottle. He pushed it, and the cap was immediately thrown off of the bottle and fell onto the floor.

  Sheen stared at the liquid as it began to bubble. He glanced at the fridge, but saw no other beverages. It was the green goop or nothing. "Well," he muttered while swirling the contents of the bottle, "here we go. Over the lips, through the gums, yada yada here it comes."

  Sheen bent his head back and began to guzzle the drink. The liquid part of the beverage washed over his cracked throat and down to his stomach. Sheen found that he had to swallow the floating chunks of matter.

  After guzzling it down, he threw the bottle across the room and started coughing. The liquid had tasted like mustard, chocolate, and orange soda. The solid lumps reminded him of Brussels sprouts.

  Sheen finally stopped coughing and grabbed another bottle from the fridge. He guzzled it down, and then another, and then other. He paused and threw up from drinking so fast. He wiped his chin and slowly drank from one more bottle while continuing to take a tour of the ship. His leg was on fire, he was twenty-two hours away from any human life, his side screamed in pain, and he was covered in vomit and blood. But as he polished down the last bottle of the foul-tasting beverage, he had never felt better.