Desolate The Complete Trilogy

Part Three - Redemption





Prologue





Senior Medical Officer Maylew inspected his patient’s wounded foot. Despite the thirty arsects injection of Pfilison, Junior Crew Enlistman Furlon still wailed in pain. The very potent pain retardant seemed to have no effect.

“Come now, Furlon. You carrying on only makes my job more difficult. Please try to remain calm.” Maylew sprayed disinfectant into the wound causing Furlon to howl even louder.

Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer appeared in the medical bay doorway. Furlon fell silent at the sight of his superior. “What is it now?” Lanmer said. “Why is it every time I lay my head to rest some problem occurs?” He turned his gaze to Furlon’s bloody foot. Besides a significant gash, the normal gray skin of the foot had grown to a darker, almost green, tint from cell damage. “What in hellfire happened to him?”

“It was Specimen Six, Mr. Lanmer.” The pain retardant slowly became more effective but Furlon still winced as the doctor began to close the gash in his foot with sutures. Furlon tried his hardest to mask the pain in front of Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer. Mr. Lanmer thought pain to be a sign of weakness and made no effort to hide his disgust when one of his crewmen showed any signs of discomfort. “I merely passed through the laboratory and it lashed out at me.”

“Did I not inform the entire crew to keep at least six fills from its cell?”

“I swear I was at least twice that, Mr. Lanmer. The reach of that beast is deceptive. I fear nowhere in the hold is safe from its attacks.”

Lanmer ignored him, all too familiar with Furlon’s tendency for exaggeration. “How will this affect his mobility, Mr. Maylew?”

Senior Medical Officer Maylew finished the last stitch on Furlon’s foot and removed his gloves. “I recommend he spends the rest of the cycle in his bunk. The Pfilison will affect his judgment and cause drowsiness. He should feel significantly better next cycle.”

“Curses!” Lanmer tipped over a tray of Maylew’s instruments. Both the medical officer and young enlistman were taken aback by Lanmer’s sudden outburst. He was gruff by nature and often lost his temper due to impatience, but neither man had ever seen him lash out in a physical way before.

“Curses to this mission and curses to this blasted vessel,” he roared. “Capturing that beast was the last straw. Look at what the captain’s blatant disregard for the law has gotten us. Furlon could easily have been killed. Am I not right, Mr. Maylew?”

Senior Medical Officer Maylew cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to the deck.

“Answer the enlistman, Maylew.”

The deep voice resonated from the passageway behind Lanmer, who remained silent and straightened his spine to attention. The action was pure muscle memory, a subconscious decision due to many yarwens of military conditioning.

Captain Sekwee strolled into the quiet medical bay. His heavy bootsteps sounded like hammers in the small room. “Our young enlistman Furlon could have been killed by our new guest. That much is obvious, judging by the nasty wound in his foot.” The captain made a soft hissing sound with his mouth.

Maylew knew Captain Sekwee well enough to know he wasn’t looking for his input at all. He remained silent.

“Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer,” the captain said. “Do I sense some frustration with our mission?”

The captain’s large black eyes bored into Lanmer and he resisted the strong urge to look away. Born of Drillian descent, the captain’s facial features were imposing and aggressive, even when he was calm. It was a natural advantage for a Federate commanding officer.

“Permission to speak freely, Mr. Sekwee?”

“Of course, Lanmer.”

“You know I would never question your authority or judgment.”

“But?”

Lanmer finally allowed himself to look away from the captain’s eyes. “It’s just that…I’m sure the captain is well aware RZ-237 is deemed inhospitable. The Federates prohibited exploration of the surface several yarwens ago. We don’t understand why you…why the captain deliberately broke Federate law by landing on the surface.”

Maylew and Furlon shifted uncomfortably in their seats, noticing his use of the word “we” without their consent.

“Yes, Lanmer,” Sekwee said, “I am fully aware we broke the law, and I know you,” he nodded and waved his hand over the three men, “all of you, know the penalty for such transgressions are severe. But I don’t want you men to worry. As captain of this vessel, I take full responsibility for my decisions. You were merely acting as a result of my orders. If anyone were to face prosecution the punishment would be mine and mine alone.”

Furlon may have only been a young and naive junior enlistman, just a yarwen out of the academy, but even he knew what the captain said was laughable. If the Federates discovered not only had they landed on RZ-237, but captured one of its native creatures as well, the entire crew would face court-martial. The captain would take the most punishment of course, but the magistrates would surely question the rest of the men. Even the lowliest of junior enlistmen like himself. Why did they do nothing to stop their captain from committing such a serious crime? Following orders was no longer a valid excuse. Any person familiar with history knew the troops involved with the RS-494 massacre learned that the hard way.

“So I don’t want you men to worry,” Captain Sekwee said again. “What the Federates don’t understand yet is how important Specimen Six is. The beast that just lashed out and injured you, Furlon, that creature will go down as one of the most important discoveries for dectars to come. Mark my word.”

“But, sir,” Senior Medical Officer Maylew interjected, “simply getting the specimen past Consular Affairs…”

“You leave those details to me, Doctor.” Furlon looked appropriately uncomfortable when the captain placed his hand on his shoulder. "You have more pressing matters to attend to, such as the young enlistman here. Carry on, gentlemen.”

Captain Sekwee left the medical bay as quickly as he had entered and stormed down the passageway. He opened the hatch to the lab and stood in the doorway, observing the cells on the far side of the room. Specimen Six sat quietly in its hold between two empty cells on either side of it. The crew quickly learned to give it extra space after it killed and devoured most of Specimen Four, from RZ-118, through the bars.

The shortsighted fools he left in the medical bay still failed to comprehend the significance of finding Specimen Six. Before they captured it, Sekwee had heard only rumors and wondered if the beast was simply a myth. Then he laid his own eyes on it down on the surface. It was unusual but not unheard of for the captain of a Federate research vessel to accompany a landing party. Sekwee couldn’t bring himself to delegate the task of securing the creature after waiting for so long. It took the landing party several cycles, tracking the creature only to have it lose them on multiple occasions, before they finally cornered it at the bottom of a ravine near the continent’s edge.

It took twice as many tranq rounds as expected, and Junior Crew Officer Guzmel was nearly killed when the beast breached the armor of his exosuit, but they finally subdued the creature to be known as Specimen Six.

Captain Sekwee, still pleased by the encrypted sub-space transmission he read earlier, gazed at Specimen Six with a smile on his face. His gamble was paying off. Sekwee’s contact in the clandestine cell known as the Sons of the Confederates was overjoyed at the news of the creature’s capture.

The Sons of the Confederates patiently waited yarwens for the ideal candidate to arrive. A specimen to test their perfected, yet highly illegal, rapid clone technology. If it worked as planned, a single replica of Specimen Six could be deployed on any planet in the galaxy. Within mere microns, the beast would clone and multiply in exponential numbers, spreading across the planet like a virus. They would attack and devour anything in their path. No military force in the galaxy would be a match for thousands, eventually hundreds of thousands, of Specimen Six’s clones roaming the surface.

Captain Sekwee had no reason to doubt that if left unfettered, it would be possible for every single inchon of dirt on a planet to teem with the creatures. They would simply multiply until there were no more food sources to support them. Sekwee shivered at the thought. He’d seen firsthand how dangerous just one Specimen Six could be. What separated it from other predators in the galaxy was its natural ability to quickly reproduce. It was able to gestate from conception to birth in a matter of a few cycles and it reached adulthood just as quickly. Even without the rapid clone technology, the creature would flourish and procreate in vast numbers as long as there was ample food and hosts. The cloning simply sped up the process in order to assure the victim planet’s defenses would be overrun.

Sekwee closed the hatch to the lab and headed down the passageway to the bridge. Nodding at a passing junior crew enlistman, Sekwee walked the passageway deep in thought. The plan was relatively simple. When the Sons released the creature on one of the inhabited planets in the system, the Federates would watch in horror as hundreds of millions of its citizens were slaughtered in a matter of cycles. The planet would be in ruins. Left with no choice, the Federates would surrender to the Sons of the Confederates and a new order would spread across the galaxy.

Of course Captain Sekwee would be a very integral part of that new order. He didn’t dare flat out ask the Sons about his reward, but he knew it would be handsome. Quite handsome. Grand Emperor Sekwee, ruler of his home planet of RF-937 and surrounding satellite colonies, had a very nice ring to it. Perhaps even an entire system? His ambitions knew no bounds.

The captain entered the small bridge of the ship and acknowledged his executive officer, Commander Fahlew. Federate Vessel Artemis, being a ship modest in size, required only two men on the bridge. Actually, the Artemis required virtually no interaction at all, if the captain and his XO decided to let the ship’s artificial intelligence handle all the tasks of piloting the craft. All aspects of navigation and communication could be handled automatically from pre- and midflight programming via voice commands. Or, if the pilot wished, he could switch to full manual and fly the craft “by stick,” like generations before him had done.

“Is it time, Mr. Sekwee?” Commander Fahlew asked in a somber voice.

“I believe it is, my friend.” Sekwee put his hand on Fahlew’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “It is what’s best for the new order. These are good men on board. My men. I take this task with a very heavy heart.”

“I require no reassurance, Mr. Sekwee. I would gladly give my life under your command.”

“And yet something lingers on your mind.”

“Forgive me, Captain. I just wonder if it’s absolutely necessary. Perhaps the crew would share our vision.”

“There are ten other souls on the Artemis, all of whom have pledged their absolute loyalty to the Federates. Perhaps some of them would join us. Or none. I’m sorry, Fahlew, but that is not a chance I’m willing to take.”

Commander Fahlew nodded once, a look of shame flashing across his face for a moment. “You are correct as usual, Mr. Sekwee.”

Sekwee waved his hand in a gentle dismissal and took his place on the bridge “Artemis. Security feed, up. All areas, full screen.”

The artificial intelligence’s synthetic voice spoke over the bridge intercom system. “Yes, Mr. Sekwee.” The display screen beyond the ship’s controls switched to a video grid of all areas of the ship.

“Artemis, camera four, enlarge.”

The live video feed of camera four grew larger while the others grew smaller. Sekwee and Fahlew had a clear view of the lab and all the specimens inside. The captain could make out Specimen Six crouched in the corner of its cell. His pulse quickened with anticipation.

“The sedative is prepared?” he asked Fahlew. “For…afterward?”

“I mixed it myself, Captain. The canister is online with the ventilation system and will disperse through the entire ship on your mark. With exception of the bridge, of course. It will be enough to incapacitate Specimen Six but leave no permanent damage.”

“Excellent. Artemis, release the door to cell number four in the lab.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Sekwee,” Artemis’ syrupy baritone voice filled the bridge. Too loudly as usual, grating on the captain’s nerves. “According to my records, cell number four holds a highly dangerous xenomorph from RZ-237. It is not advisable to release Specimen Six at this time. Do you wish to continue?”

“Obey my command, Artemis.”

“As you wish, Mr. Sekwee.”

Fahlew and Sekwee leaned forward and watched as the door slowly opened. Specimen Six remained motionless.

“Come, my friend,” the captain whispered at the pixelated image before him. After an agonizingly long wait, Specimen Six finally stirred and crept to the threshold of the cell. Even in the low resolution of the security camera feed, it looked hideous and made the captain’s skin crawl.

“Artemis, all doors, shipwide, lock into open position, with the exception of the bridge door,” said Commander Fahlew. “Revoke permissions for all crew members, with exception of myself and Mr. Sekwee.”

“Yes, commander. I will need Mr. Sekwee’s confirmation to execute your command.”

“I concur, Artemis.”

Captain Sekwee and Commander Fahlew sat back and watched as they released hell on the rest of the Artemis.





Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer left the medical bay with intentions to return to his bunk for some much-needed rest. Unfortunately, Furlon’s injury and the conversation with the captain had left him agitated. Although his body was dead tired, his mind still raced.

Lanmer turned the corner and scowled as he noticed the lab hatch wide open. Of all the careless and idiotic things. The ship was indeed heading downhill quickly. He approached the doorway and paused at the threshold, reaching for his sidearm out of habit but only touching the material of his flight suit. Personnel aboard a research vessel didn’t carry weapons but Lanmer was a twenty-yarwen veteran of the Federate Marine Corps. His assignment on the Artemis was his first tour on a noncombat vessel and he was accustomed to being armed at all times.

He peered around the corner of the door into the dimly lit interior of the lab. “Artemis, increase lighting in the laboratory to full.” The lighting remained unchanged. “Artemis?” The ship’s AI didn’t respond.

“Hellfire and all who inhabit it,” Lanmer cursed. He entered the lab slowly as his eyes adjusted to the low light. “Artemis, increase lighting in the laboratory to full,” he tried again. Nothing. He reached the middle of the lab, as far away from the cell of Specimen Six as possible, just as he'd instructed his men. The cell that he realized was now wide open and empty.





Senior Medical Officer Maylew patted Furlon on the arm. “I’m all finished. Let’s get you to your bunk, shall we?”

Furlon opened his eyes with much effort. The pain retardant Mr. Maylew had given him acted slowly but he was feeling much better. Much better indeed. He smiled at the three images of Maylew that danced in his vision. He blinked a few times and only one remained. “S-sounds good to me, doc.”

Maylew frowned at the junior enlistman’s lack of protocol but let it slide. The Pfilison was obviously impairing his judgment, which wasn’t too surprising. Furlon acted in a similar fashion the last time the crew was on leave on RF-074 and he consumed too many inebriants. Furlon stood up and took a deep breath.

The medical bay hatch opened but nobody walked in. Maylew shrugged it off. The Artemis was nearing the end of her commission and it wasn’t uncommon for mechanical glitches these days. It wasn’t too long ago that the hatch wouldn’t open at all until one of the engineers repaired it.

He held out his hand to Furlon. “I’ll assist you to the sleeping quarters.”

“Not necessary, Mr. Maylew. My head has cleared and it’s just down the corridor.”

“You’re certain?”

Furlon smiled and nodded. His eyes were focused and he appeared stable.

“Very well. Get some rest, Furlon. We both know Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer will expect you back to full capacity sooner rather than later.”

Furlon gave a halfhearted salute and left the medical bay. He shuffled down the hall, lost his balance briefly, and slammed his shoulder against bulkhead. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. The floating sensation from the Pfilison was pleasurable at first, but he was starting to feel queasy. At least the pain in his foot was gone for the moment.

He turned the corner and did a double take at the mess all over the deck at the end of the corridor. He blinked a few times and tried to focus his eyes on the large puddle. Hydraulic fluid? A leak in one of the engine coolant lines? As he got closer, the dark color eliminated coolant but opened the possibility of backed up sewage from one of the waste tanks. Furlon groaned. Not only was he the most junior enlistman on the ship but his dossier listed one of his occupation specialties as sanitation technician. Give it any fancy name you wish, but Furlon knew he was nothing more than a “space janitor.” Something his older brother liked to call him in a mocking fashion whenever the two saw each other on leave.

Furlon knew he could ignore the mess, practically having direct orders from Mr. Maylew to get some rest, but his curiosity drew him to the puddle. As he got closer, he realized the puddle was a dark red liquid, spilling out of the sleeping quarters next to his. He staggered to the open hatch of the room, careful not to slip on the mystery liquid, and stuck his head around the door.

One of his crewmates was sprawled on the deck. Although there were only twelve men onboard the Artemis, Furlon had trouble identifying this particular crewmate because most of his head was missing. In a sickening moment of clarity, he suddenly knew the origin of the thick red liquid on the deck and vomited.

After emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor, adding to the overall stench and gore that filled the room, Furlon’s hazy state evaporated as adrenaline surged through his system. His feet slipped on the deck, trying to find purchase, as he scrambled to escape. His balance betrayed him and he fell face-first to the deck. Trying to wipe his bloody face with an even bloodier hand, Furlon turned around on his hands and knees to face Specimen Six.

Its face was no more than two fills away from Furlon’s face. The mandibles, still soaked red with blood, spread wide and a squeal escaped its mouth. Before Furlon could even think about getting up off the floor in a futile attempt to escape, Specimen Six clamped its large claw on either side of his face. Furlon’s head felt as if it was going to be completely crushed as the creature effortlessly lifted him off the floor. He grasped the claw and tried to pull it open, in vain, until Specimen Six thrust its razor-sharp barb through Furlon’s chest cavity.





Captain Sekwee watched the video feed as Specimen Six yanked the barb out of Furlon’s chest and dropped his lifeless body to the deck. It squealed again before darting down the corridor looking for its next victim.

Moments earlier, Sekwee and Commander Fahlew witnessed Specimen Six quickly devour some of the entrails of its first kill, Senior Crew Enlistman Wuksim. It disemboweled him as he walked out of the engineering room. After a revolting display of gorging on the bloody mess of Wuksim’s guts, it quickly moved on.

Sekwee’s fascination grew as his crew was systematically slaughtered. It was now clear why the Sons of the Confederates were so interested in this particular species of predator. Besides the quick meal courtesy of poor Wuksim, Specimen Six now appeared to be killing simply for sport.





Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer may have been an old thickheaded grunt with a bad knee and a testy disposition, but he was smart enough to put two and two together. An empty cell that no longer held Specimen Six, and screams from down the corridor, meant it was at large and the entire ship was in danger.

“Artemis, sound general alarm!” Lanmer cursed as Artemis continued to ignore him and the ship’s loudspeakers remained silent.

The modest cache of arms, in addition to the protective armor of the exosuits, was located beside the exterior docking doors, about as far away from the lab as possible. Lanmer considered the odds of making it there without running into the monster and didn’t like them. He frantically scanned the dim lab, looking for a formidable weapon larger than a scalpel, and saw none.

Lanmer peered into the empty corridor and quietly yet quickly headed for the weapons cache. Another scream of terror or pain, followed by frantic pounding on one of the doors, sounded behind him. So far, every hatch Lanmer passed was locked in the open position so he couldn’t imagine where one of his crewmates was trying to get to. The bridge, perhaps.

The good news was the commotion was behind him and the weapons were down the passageway in front of him. Assuming Specimen Six was the cause of alarm and was occupied elsewhere, stealth was no longer a concern so he sprinted down the hall.

He hurdled over a downed crewmate, resisting the urge to check for signs of life amidst the bloody mess, and turned the corner near the docking area. Another one of his men, Junior Crew Enlistman Hekfun, lay faceup near the weapons rack. His torso had been ripped from the bottom half of his body and tossed to the other side of the room. A dark smear of blood ran down the bulkhead where it must have hit and then slid to the deck.

Lanmer gritted his teeth. Hekfun was a good man, one of his best. Suddenly, the who, why, and where involving the escape or release of Specimen Six no longer mattered. That would be dealt with later. For now, the only thing that concerned him was a quick and hopefully painful death of the creature by his hands.

He grabbed one of the assault rifles with the least amount of blood splattered on it from Hekfun’s demise. He opened the ammunition cabinet and reached for several magazines of the deadliest cartridges aboard the ship. Down on RZ-237, the load out for the landing party was tranq rounds only, but Lanmer was not interested in sedating the creature. He slammed the magazine of armor-piercing fragmentation shells into the rifle and locked a round into the chamber.





The pounding and frantic screams coming from the other side of the bridge door finally ceased. Commander Fahlew jabbed a finger at camera twelve. “That man just retrieved a weapon from the rack. Artemis, I gave the command to lock down the weapons stores. Confirm!”

A moment ticked by as Artemis processed the response. “The command to secure weapons stores was processed, however a malfunction has been detected in the locking mechanism servos. Would you like me to perform a diagnostic, Mr. Fahlew?”

“Who was that man?” Captain Sekwee leaned closer as the figure darted out of the picture. “Lanmer?”

“It may have been. I could not tell.”

Artemis interjected. “Would you like me to perform a diagnos—”

“Of course not!” Fahlew roared.

“Calm yourself, my friend,” Sekwee said. “One man with a weapon does not spell disaster. Artemis, take all interior lighting off line, with exception of the bridge.”

Artemis obeyed and all the video feeds went dark. The security cameras were not equipped for low or no light visibility and the captain and commander lost their god-like view of the ship.

“We won’t be able to see, but neither will that man with the weapon,” Sekwee assured him. “I have a feeling it won’t slow down Specimen Six in the slightest.”





Lanmer turned the corner, his rifle tight against his shoulder, one eye looking through the optical sight. He jammed the muzzle into an alarmed Senior Medical Officer Maylew’s chest. Any harder and Lanmer might have accidentally pulled the trigger. Maylew shrieked in surprise and clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Lanmer, thank goodness,” he whispered.

“Where is it? Have you seen it?”

Maylew gulped and shook his head. “I heard something scamper by not too long ago out here in the passageway. I couldn’t stand another moment hiding in the medical bay.”

Lanmer nodded and brought the rifle back up to a firing position. “Stay close and watch behind me. If you even think you hear or see anything, shout out. This thing is fast.”

Maylew grasped the back of Lanmer’s flight suit and matched him step for step, panting on the back of his neck. “Where is the captain?” he whispered. “And why is Artemis not responding to my commands?”

Lanmer barely got a shushing sound past his lips to quiet the doctor, when the lights shut off and plunged them into darkness. Maylew shrieked in Lanmer’s ear. He slammed the doctor up against the bulkhead. “Get yourself together, man,” he hissed. “You are going to get us both killed!”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry.” The doctor searched for something in his uniform. “Wait, I think I have…yes, here it is.” Maylew clicked on a small torch he used to inspect the men’s various orifices during examinations. It was weak but better than nothing.

“Good work, Mr. Maylew.” Lanmer patted him on the shoulder. “This will be a great help.” He took the torch and held it with his left hand along with the rifle grip. He raised the weapon and the small light illuminated the corridor anywhere he aimed.

They continued forward, both men becoming aware of how quiet the vessel had grown. Besides the low hum from the particle engines, they heard no other voices. No screams, no cries for help. Both men feared they were the last survivors but neither wanted to admit it.

They turned the corner and Lanmer paused as a soft clucking sound came from farther down the hall. They caught a glimpse of movement at the end of the corridor; Lanmer adjusted the aim of the rifle and the weak beam of the torch revealed Specimen Six.

The clucking sound grew louder as its mandibles clicked back and forth. It hunkered down slightly and squealed. Lanmer knew from experience, when they cornered the beast on RZ-237, that it was about to attack.

He opened fire with a short five-round burst. The powerful fragmentation rounds filled the confined area of the corridor with deafening sound. The brilliant muzzle flash blinded both men. The rifle bucked hard against Lanmer’s shoulder and the torch slipped from his fingers.

“Did you hit it?” Maylew screamed in his ear. Before Lanmer could admit he had no idea, the general alarm sounded, accompanied by flashing red warning lights in the ceiling.

“Warning,” Artemis announced. Both men jumped at the sudden sound of the ship’s AI voice. For some reason it was more jarring than the alarm. “Reactor core damage to particle engine number two. Cooling system is offline. Automatic shutdown of particle engine number two has failed. Catastrophic failure is imminent.”

“Blast!” Lanmer cursed.

“What is happening?” Maylew grasped the back of Lanmer's flight suit even tighter.

Lanmer couldn’t believe his own stupidity. The engine room was directly behind the bulkhead at the end of the corridor. Even if he did manage to hit Specimen Six, they were now in even more danger. The armor-piercing rounds he had chosen in haste had done exactly what they were designed to do. They sliced through the bulkhead and damaged the reactor in the next room.

“Cooling system is offline,” Artemis reminded them. “Catastrophic failure is imminent.”

Lanmer was no engineer, but he was familiar enough with particle engines to know they overheated quickly with no cooling system. If they couldn’t get it back online, the Artemis would soon be reduced to a cloud of dust after a very violent and magnificent explosion.





“Artemis,” the captain said, “bring up all interior lights and shut down particle engine number two.”

“My apologies, Mr. Sekwee. Particle engine number two has sustained significant damage and my commands for shutdown are having no effect. I recommend a manual shutdown immediately.”

“It’s as simple as throwing a lever, Captain.” Commander Fahlew rose from his seat. “I know exactly where it’s located.”

“No. You have the bridge. I can take care of this.” Fahlew started to object but Sekwee cut him off. “The Artemis is my ship and I am responsible for starting this mad chain of events.”

Commander Fahlew solemnly nodded and addressed Artemis, not taking his eyes off the captain. “Artemis, release the sedative compound into the ventilation system.” He handed the captain his emergency flight helmet. “If you move quickly, this should filter the gas long enough for you to get back to the safety of the bridge.”

“My apologies, Mr. Fahlew,” Artemis said. “My command to release the sedative compound appears to be having no effect as well. I suspect the damage to the reactor core has crippled most systems of the ship, including life support and climate controls. Would you like me to run a full diagnostic?”

“Mr. Sekwee, I must insist,” Fahlew pleaded. “For all we know, Specimen Six is still at large and without the sedative it’s much too dangerous. Allow me to go in your stead.”

Sekwee pointed to the flight chair. “Sit, Commander. That is a direct order.” He placed the flight helmet on the seat of his own chair and removed his emergency service pistol from the underside of the control panel.

“Artemis, are the hatch controls still online?”

“Yes, Mr. Sekwee. They appear to have been undamaged in the accident.”

“Open the bridge hatch and lock it behind me. Allow nothing in or out except the commander and myself.” Artemis acknowledged and the door slid open.

“I’ll be back soon, my friend,” he told Fahlew without looking back. He ducked out of the bridge and crept down the corridor, his pistol at the ready. The normal hum of the particle engines took on a louder and more desperate tone, sending vibrations through the deck under his feet. The general alarm continued to wail. Artemis reminded what was left of the crew of the imminent catastrophic failure once again.

The captain held his breath and gripped the pistol tighter around every corner. He finally reached the engine room and entered to find himself staring down the barrel of an assault rifle.





Lanmer continued to train his rifle at the Sekwee’s face. Senior Medical Officer Maylew stood behind Lanmer and looked properly relieved to see the captain. Sekwee lowered his pistol and after a moment, Lanmer lowered his weapon as well.

Sekwee forced a smile. “Thank goodness you men are all right. Quickly, we need to shut down engine number two.”

Lanmer nodded and pointed his rifle into the corridor. “Go ahead, Mr. Sekwee. I’ll cover the door.”

Sekwee tucked his pistol into the pocket of his flight suit and weaved through the tight maze of conduits and machinery of the stifling hot engine room. He passed a section of the bulkhead cut to ribbons from Lanmer’s weapon and tried to squeeze though two sections of pipe before turning back. The heat from the reactor core was becoming unbearable and it was impossible to reach the manual override switch on the opposite side of the room. Artemis declared yet another warning but Sekwee couldn’t understand it over the hissing release valves and warning claxon.

He turned back and climbed up the ladder, reaching the narrow catwalk above the engines. The heat was even more unbearable close to the ceiling but he held his breath and sprinted across the catwalk to the other side of the room. He skidded to a stop on the slick flooring and slammed up against the guardrail, causing his pistol to slip from his pocket and tumble over the edge. It landed below, wedged in between two narrow banks of wiring blocks.

Sekwee hurried down the ladder and finally reached the bank of manual levers. He yanked the shutdown lever for particle engine two and exhaled in relief as it spooled down. The reactor core was still dangerously hot, but the chance of catastrophic failure lessened as every micron passed and it was allowed to cool.

He made his way through the narrow openings toward the door and stopped at a tool cabinet along the bulkhead. Sliding open the drawers and rummaging through the tools, he chose a large spanner and slipped it into the sleeve of his flight suit.

Sekwee returned to the engine room entrance. Maylew looked relived to see him. Lanmer still pointed the weapon out into the corridor. “Mr. Sekwee, Specimen Six has escaped and killed most of the men, I fear.”

Sekwee wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to catch his breath. “Yes, I know. It nearly attacked me in the passageway. Quickly, let’s get to the bridge where it is safe and we can assess the situation. Lead the way, Lanmer. I’ll take the rear.”

The three men walked the corridor toward the bridge. Sekwee glanced over his shoulder, convinced Specimen Six was about to round the corner and attack. “Quickly, men,” he whispered. They turned a corner, the safety of the bridge beckoning them with the hatch at the end of the hallway.

Captain Sekwee slowed his pace and allowed a wider gap between him and Maylew. He slipped the spanner from his sleeve and struck the doctor in the back of the head. Maylew cried out and tumbled to the deck. Lanmer spun around and lifted his arm by reflex, blocking the captain’s next blow effectively but painfully as steel met bone. Sekwee dropped the spanner and tried to wrestle the rifle out of Lanmer’s hands.

The two men struggled and tripped over Maylew’s unconscious body on the deck, sending them both tumbling. Both lost grip of the rifle and it slid out of reach, just in time for Specimen Six to come around the corner.

Lanmer and Sekwee both froze as it observed them. Its long and rat like tail twitched back and forth – the tip grazing both walls on either side of it. It crouched lower and spread its legs out, the stubby hooves of its back legs and the razor-sharp claws of its front legs making a racket on the metallic deck.

Specimen Six was covered with gore from slaughtering the rest of the crew. Dark and congealed blood oozed off the tip of its beak and mandibles. It’s barbed front appendage and crustacean-like claw were covered in a stinking medley of blood, bile, feces, and brain matter.

Captain Sekwee made the mistake of making the first move. He scrambled to his feet and Specimen Six pounced, clearing the distance between itself and the men in a blink of an eye. It landed on Sekwee and slammed him to the deck. Sekwee managed a quick scream before it disemboweled him with one swift movement of the tip of its beak, then sliced open the front of his chest cavity with its barb. Specimen Six grabbed the captain’s ribcage and pulled it apart, the ribs snapping like twigs.

Lanmer jumped to his feet, grabbed the rifle in one hand and the back of Maylew’s flight suit with the other. He dragged the moaning doctor down the corridor. Specimen Six squealed behind them.

Lanmer reached the hatch to the bridge and slammed his open palm into the manual door release. Nothing happened. “Artemis, open bridge hatch. Now!” The door didn’t budge; Artemis continued to ignore him. Maylew slowly got to his feet, groaning in pain and holding the back of his head.

Lanmer spun around and aimed the rifle at Specimen Six, still butchering the captain’s remains. This time, he switched the rifle to single shot mode and squeezed the trigger. Sweat dripped into Lanmer’s eye, causing him to twitch, which affected his aim. The rifle barked and missed its mark, hitting the deck directly in front of Specimen Six and showering it with bullet shrapnel. It squealed in pain yet received no fatal injury. It spun around and scrambled down the hallway away from Lanmer. He managed to get off another shot, before Specimen Six turned the corner, but missed again.

Lanmer cursed and aimed the rifle at the door release mechanism. “Stand back,” he shouted at Maylew and fired.

Sparks flew and the hatch opened. Lanmer grabbed Maylew and pushed him onto the bridge, right into a confused Commander Fahlew, knocking both men to the floor. Lanmer ducked inside and pulled the manual door switch, locking them safely inside.





The rifle muzzle pushed painfully into Commander Fahlew’s cheek. “Captain Sekwee just paid for his treachery in blood. Tell me, Mr. Fahlew. Where do your loyalties lie?”

The commander gurgled out a non-response.

“What say you?” Fahlew roared.

“My loyalty lies with the Federates and the Artemis, Mr. Lanmer,” he said. “You have my word. We were all betrayed by the captain. I have no doubt he would have turned on me as well, once he no longer needed me.”

Before Lanmer could decide whether or not to trust the commander, Artemis’s AI chimed in with more bad news. “Warning. Particle engine one losing power. Ninety percent and falling. Life support systems offline.”

“What?” Fahlew sat upright, forgetting the rifle pointing at him. “Artemis, damage report. What is the reason for particle one losing power?”

“Stand by, Mr. Fahlew.”

Lanmer lowered his weapon and took a step back, allowing the commander to take a seat at the helm. Maylew, looking woozy, sat down in the captain’s seat.

“It appears the overheating reactor core has damaged particle engine one as well. Eighty-five percent and falling.”

“What is happening?” Maylew asked.

“Life support draws power from the particle engines,” the commander explained. “If they both go offline, the Artemis will be subzero with little air to breath before the cycle is over.”

“Is there a Federate port or friendly planet in the system where we can land for repairs?” Lanmer asked.

Fahlew scanned the map in front of him before shaking his head. “No charted planets, no.”

“Seventy-five percent and falling.”

“This looks promising.” Fahlew pointed to a spot on the chart. “There’s a system within range if we have enough power for one jump. There,” he tapped the dot on the display with his finger. “Third planet from the system’s star. It’s an oblate spheroid, consists mainly of iron, oxygen, and silicon. The atmosphere is a little too nitrogen rich for our liking but we should be able to breath. Surface temperature is also acceptable.”

“Fifty-five percent and falling.”

“Artemis,” said the commander. “Execute stage seven jump on my mark. Coordinates locked and confirmed.”

“FTL engine spooled and online, Mr. Fahlew. Awaiting your command.”

Fahlew looked over to Maylew in the chair next to him and then over his shoulder at Lanmer. “Artemis. Make the jump.”

The ship lurched and the display of the space in front of the ship melted into a blur of shifted stars and solar dust. They barely had time to catch their breath before the Artemis ripped out of hyperspace to reveal a bright blue planet filling the entire view of the bridge’s display. A new round of warning lights and alarms filled the cabin.

“Particle engine under five percent. Initiating controlled shutdown of ship’s power,” Artemis reported.

“Strap in and put on that emergency flight helmet, Maylew.” Fahlew commanded. “Lanmer, try to hold on to something. We will be coming in very hard and fast.” He put on his own helmet and prepared to perform a crash landing on the planet below.



****



It slowly crept from its hiding place in the dark recesses of the ship after patiently waiting. Since the crash, the vessel had been dark and silent. It stood in the doorway and deeply sniffed the still air in the corridor. All it detected were the signatures of the recent kills, no live prey. This was disappointing of course, but the bounty from the hunt was plentiful and the creatures that held it captive were no longer a danger.

The passageway was pitch black but it was of no matter. By the end of the day, it had gathered all the kills by scent alone and stacked them neatly in the engine room where it was still warm. Now that the work was done, it located its first victim and separated it from the rest of the prey.

Unlike the others, this one was intact and still alive, although unconscious. The prey’s breaths were shallow, uneven, and smelled of death which was quickly approaching. It turned its attention to the wound in the prey’s abdomen and carefully sliced it open with its barb. The victim lurched and moaned before falling silent.

It searched the body cavity of the victim with its tongue, rooting and searching though the intestines and tissue before finding the tiny egg sack. It swallowed it, savoring the rich protein-filled treat. Now that the imminent danger had passed, the implanted host was no longer needed. If the eggs were left to gestate, it would soon have several competitors for the limited meat supply aboard the ship. That would be against its own self-interest of survival.

It breathed deeply, taking in the delicious odor of its kills. They would provide sustenance while it waited. Waited in the dark and the cold. Waited to hunt again for living flesh. Its belly full and energy waning, it found a suitable place close to the still-warm reactor core, curled up in a ball, and slept.