21

“Prime, kill the lights,” I ordered.

The entire ship went dark. Only the emergency floor lights lit the way, casting dim shadows. Gesturing to the others, we put on our NVGs, painting our surroundings in a green haze. “All set?” I asked.

Amelia and Freddie nodded, and they hit the hallway first. Each wore a resistance armor I had made in the factories. It looked like a tactical full-body armor suit. Still, it came equipped with life support functions, a nanite fortification pack hanging from their lower back, and integrated rotation-sense targeting (still in its infancy). It was kind of funny that I was testing them out this soon. I hoped to try them in the safety of a simulation chamber, but we couldn’t pick our battles. The suit had an “auto-reflex” that allowed its wearer to determine if someone was aiming at them or sensing an incoming projectile.

Amelia and Freddie worked fast, clearing the narrow hallway of any civilians and hostiles. Freddie pulled on his collar a bit, trying to get comfortable. Once we’re back at the station, I plan to make some adjustments. I shouldn’t make the armor too bulky as it hindered my soldiers’ range of motion. They looked like stripped-down stormtroopers, minus the goofy helmet and the white colors. Mine were steel silver without any paint.

I scanned the vessel for heat signatures over my holo-screen projected from my eyes (which only I could see) and detected multiple red-orange forms in the crew living quarters. The scanner only worked within six meters, not enough data to know how many below were still alive. I turned to Prime’s floating form.

“How many bio-signatures are on this ship, Prime?”

“I detect twenty-six organics within this vessel, forerunner. Twenty-five are classified as human.”

“We can handle one quartz,” I said, mostly to myself.

“Will we?” Amelia muttered.

Nick, Ben, and the Pacific Fleet kept the second quartz ship busy. I gave controls to Prime to pilot the ship while I was out of the seat with specific instructions to blow the bastard off the air if it ever showed its ass out of the headlands.

We moved forward, keeping our orientations with me at the lead. The crew area was coming up, and I swiped my wrist around the console pad near the door. It slid open.

Alonso already had his M4 rifle pointed at me, crouched on one knee, eye dead-set on my chest. He relaxed once he realized it was just us. “Thank fucking God. We heard the screaming, and then—”

I marched forward and handed him the resistance armor. “Put these on.” Alonso grabbed it, and Amelia helped him put it on. Meredith and my brothers hid behind a bunk bed, only peeking out once they heard my voice. Gaius and my father got up from behind another bunk.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Dad asked.

I walked over to my father and handed him a pistol. “Anything that doesn’t look human or a robot comes through that door you—”

“—I shoot it in the face?”

I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you guys up here.”

“What are you talking about? I’m glad we’re here, or we’ll end up in that crater. I guess there’s no salvaging the house?”

I thinned my lips. “Yeah, it’s gone, Dad. Sorry.”

“The mortgage is a blood-sucking leech, anyway. Good riddance.” Still, my father was disappointed to learn that the home he had built for over three decades was gone.

I turned to the others. “Alonso, you ready?”

“Just about!” He put on the NVGs helmet and fiddled with his armor before he threw a thumbs-up.

I gave another pistol to Gaius. “I reckon you still know how to shoot, Mr. Hansen?”

He scoffed. “My daddy taught me how to shoot a gun when I was seven, Segerstrom.” He grabbed the pistol off my hands. “Is my boy down there?”

“I grabbed Tyler and the others up here before the explosion.”

“Bring him to me safe and sound, Segerstrom.”

“We will, Dad,” Amelia said. “We’re ready to go, Tony.”

I looked over at my family before we entered the hallway again. We moved toward the ramp leading down to the lower deck. Immediately, I heard pounding against the metal door and a few muffled shouting beyond it. I swiped my wrist against the console again, and the door slid open. We raised our rifles, ready to fire if the quartz were nearby.

Deputy Jimmy Garrett stumbled into the hallway first, drenched in sweat, and had this panic look on his face; his gun fell and slid across the floor. He was a man in his late twenties who graduated in the same year as me back in the day when he was surrounded by weed, alcohol, and weekly detention by the Vice Principal. Now, he was a cop. He tried to rush past us, so I grabbed the scruff of his khaki-colored polo shirt and pushed him aside against the wall. He yelped, mumbling about his mother before his eyes finally opened and realized it was me.

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“Segerstrom?” He asked, bewildered. “Oh my God, we gotta get the fuck out of here!”

I looked over down the ramp and saw no one else was there. “Where the fuck are the others?”

“I—I don’t—where’s the way out?”

“Jimmy, where’s the sheriff? The agents?”

“Jesus Christ, man! Let me breathe!” I let him go, and he slunk back down to the ground. “They’re still down there with that thing.”

“Alive?”

“I don’t know, okay! I just ran and saw this door, and I closed it.”

Amelia glowered. “You left them there?”

“It was chasing me!”

Amelia grasped my elbow. “Tony, Tyler is—”

“I know, I know.” I pulled Garrett up, grabbed his pistol on the ground, and shoved it in his hand. “You. Follow us.”

“Down there? No way, man.”

“The sheriff’s down there, and so are the others. We need all hands on deck.”

“I’m not going down there! You can’t make me!”

The ship lurched sideways. Garrett almost fell on me before I resisted the sudden movement, keeping me on the ground. I helped Garrett back up again.

“Second quartz vessel detected,” Prime answered. “I am in pursuit.”

I nodded and turned to the deputy. “Look, man. We’re running out of time. We gotta get that thing out of there, or it will kill everyone. You always brag about being a cop, so be a fucking cop for once in your life, or I’ll let the world know that Deputy Jimmy Macario Garrett of Wilsonville, California was a coward. Then, I’ll throw you off this goddamn ship.”

“It’s a long way down, dude,” Freddie added.

Garrett’s lips quivered, gripping his gun harder. “You guys are out of your fucking minds.” He didn’t argue after that.

“Alonso. Freddie. Take point.”

“Taking point,” Alonso replied.

We moved down the ramp to the lower deck. When Alonso hit ten feet from the bottom, he took a knee and let Freddie pass to scout ahead while he covered for him. Once Freddie landed on the lower deck, he dropped to one knee and let Alonso scout forward again until he hit the corner.

“Clear,” Alonso said.

We cautiously advanced into the dark hallway.

Thud.

Muffled ahead, but we could all hear it. We stopped to listen.

Thud.

Thud.

Something was banging their fists against a metal wall. Or a door. Something is trying to get in. Too loud to be human.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud!

I nodded over to Alonso and Freddie: keep moving. They nodded back at me and advanced, rifles aimed and ready. It took countless practices to move quietly and fast at the same time. Knees half-bent, trying to keep your breathing stable, control the hammering heartbeat against your chest, the blood pumping behind your ears. We ended at the second bulkhead door on this deck. By then, I took point, moving at the lead to key in the console and open the damn thing. The vessel lurched sideways again.

Second quartz vessel pursuing us, forerunner. I am attempting to shake them off. Lieutenant Amendola and Ochoa are flanking, Prime said in my head.

Once our legs were stable, I put my left hand up and signed for the others what to do. Only Garrett seemed lost, so I crept toward the deputy and motioned for him to stay at the back.

Garrett hesitated, and I grabbed his wrist, pulled him close, and whispered to his ear, “Do not fucking run.”

He gulped audibly.

The door slid open.

The pounding was getting louder as we narrowed a corner. And we could all hear the screams now, albeit stifled. I stopped marching when a looming bipedal shadow moved fifteen feet from us. Their face vaguely resembled a shrimp’s, with whip-like antennae and black beady eyes (they had four instead of two), but all of its resemblances stopped there. Their bulky body was covered in thick, silvery chitin plates and steely scales. Their armor was also made of sleeveless metal, covering enough of their weaker areas, glinting purplish and greenish lights. They had two hands and two legs, but their arms and hands looked like it could crush through a man’s head with one grasp. At their feet were two of my destroyed drones.

Having punched a gap through the door, the quartz pried it open. A stream of screams emanated from within. Someone fired a shot, but they missed the creature’s head.

With no time to lose, I crouched down and fired. The others let their weapons loose behind me. For a second, I thought they weren’t going to stay up. The universe wasn’t that kind to me.

Instead, the quartz raised their thick arms to block the shots. A few bullets hit, but it merely bounced off their scales. Something on their wrist flashed, and a translucent shield covered them.

Fuck! Now I knew why the agents and the other cops had trouble bringing them down. I heard a ton of gunfire from the upper deck when they arrived. It was clear to me what I needed to do. I had to get them away from the others.

The quartz roared a challenge.

“Retreat to the cargo hold!” I commanded. The hallways were too cramped to fight this thing head-on. We needed space.

But we would be dead if this thing were fast enough to catch up. As if Prime assessed the same thing, Prime One lunged forward and latched onto the quartz’s face; pincers used to protect himself pummeled the enemy over the head, drawing purplish blood. We used the distraction to get the fuck away from it. Prime’s physical form barely lasted four seconds before the quartz ripped it off their head and slammed Prime against the wall, crushing him to death.

“Prime! Are you okay, bud?” I hollered.

I cannot die, forerunner. I am the ship, he reassured me. I give you enough distraction. You may proceed to the cargo hold.

I grunted. Only Prime could face death on the face and be calm about it.

Instead of returning to the hallway we came from, we went the other way toward the cargo hold. I couldn’t risk bringing the Goliath closer to the upper deck and my family. Luckily, the quartz pursued us. I ordered Prime to open the door leading into the hold. I saw the door slide open ahead. Deputy Garrett ran in first, but thankfully, he didn’t close it shut as he did to the others. I doubted Prime would let him. Instead, he kept running and disappeared somewhere to the left. He must be trying to find a place to hide.

That’s when we saw the bodies. In the cargo hold, we almost tripped over the three FBI agents (I could tell because of their jackets). One man slumped on the wall had his entire head ripped off, which now rested on his lap, face forever frozen in a pained screech. Another lay face first, his spine crushed by a considerable force. The other had her chest blown open by a powerful weapon, lying on her back with her dead, frozen eyes staring at the ceiling. Half a dozen drones littered the floor, smashed to bits after trying to protect the humans.

Two more deputies, men in their early thirties, came out of their hiding spot behind the machinery, pistols aimed at me.

“Sparks! Holloway! It’s coming this way!” I screamed, pointing behind me. Alonso and Freddie kept their finger on the trigger, aiming at the charging behemoth.

They both paused, hands shaking. They must have heard it stomping down the hallway.

“You brought it here?” Sparks exclaimed, incredulous.

I spotted two more FBI agents, a man with his jacket torn, coming out from a hatch where the drones used to navigate the ship without going through the crew corridors. I immediately recognized Finley as one of them.

“Tony! The fucker’s coming!” Alonso shouted and ran for cover beside the door. Freddie and Amelia did the same.

The quartz didn’t take out a gun from what looked like its belt. I was right in their sight, where a good shot with a gun would have blown me to bits. Instead, they pulled out a thick handle, where a plasmic scimitar blade materialized from its hilt. The edges glowed red-orange, bathing the sneering shrimp’s face in its hue. They charged toward me. I dropped to one knee and kept firing with my rifle until I spent all the bullets.

By then, it was too late.

The quartz loomed; pulled back the shield, and raised the scimitar over my head.