Target 10 S2.2 To the Rescue
His shin was wet as fresh blood soaked through the improvised bandage.
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RJ sighed and took a deep breath in when the noise passed. "I don't think our friend out there is going to let us out of here. Even if he did, we can't use the transporter." He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.
"I thought about that while you were taking a nap. This door opened for me right away. When we got in it locked. I mean, I thought I locked it, but in hindsight I think it did it automatically." She sat down on a box near him. "Havenstar sees the beast as a threat, but not us. It's protecting us from it, by locking the door."
"But then why wouldn't it open the transporter?"
"Because it didn't want the threat getting access to the rest of it."
"I doubt that thing could work the transporter." RJ stretched his legs out. His shin was wet as fresh blood soaked through the improvised bandage. Blood loss. That's why I'm weak.
"That's why I think it's automatic. A binary choice. Havenstar isn't as smart as I thought it was."
"For once, you being wrong doesn't help us." He tried to give her one of his smiles, finding it took more effort than usual.
She smirked back at him, then glanced at the door.
"Maybe it'll give up and go back out."
"Maybe." She stood and started poking around the boxes. "Maybe we'll find a decent weapon in here, too."
"Hey! Don't insult the e-blaster. They can take down anything."
She stared at him with a raised eyebrow.
"They should be able to take down anything. That beast must have some kind of anti-e-blaster armor for skin."
"Which brings me back to wanting a decent weapon." She continued her search.
He moved to stand, but only got halfway up before he fell back down. The room spun around him, slowly coming back into focus. When it did, he saw Reby by his side and his leg resting elevated on a box."If I knew getting hurt would get your attention, I wouldn't have bothered with the women."
"What? You're not making any sense."
"Really. I did it all for you."
"That's it." She leaned toward him.
He anticipated the kiss, pursing his lips and reaching for her.
She batted his arms aside, glaring at him. Then she ripped a long strip off his already torn shirt. "We need to stop the bleeding before you become a complete idiot. Here. Drink." She pulled the tube from his jacket and stuck it in his mouth.
Sipping, he watched her work on his leg. It seemed it was happening to someone else. He couldn't feel the tourniquet tightening, or quite make out the words she mumbled to herself as she did.
"Don't move."
That he understood.
She resumed her search of the room. He didn't know how much time passed, but the next thing he noticed was her sitting down next to him.
"Feeling any better?"
"I don't want to hurl. That's better."
She pulled the analyzer out of his pocket. "You're improving. Well, except for your leg." She leaned over and examined it. "The bleeding stopped, though." Another series of bangs on the door made her flinch.
"Did you find anything?" He asked, hopeful she'd found some solution to getting them out of there in one piece.
"No. I don't recognize most of it. Just broken pieces of...something."
"A ship. A really, really old one."
"Why do you sound upset about that?" She shifted her position to look at him.
"Do I? It just makes me wonder." He frowned, not having the energy to argue about what he thought. And it would be an argument.
"There's lots to wonder about in this place. Maybe try not to though. Not until you've had a round in the auto-doc. You look awful."
"Gee, thanks." He dropped his head.
She stood and patted his shoulder. "I'm going to look around again. There's got to be something useful."
A warmth spread from where she'd touched him. It wasn't much, but the gesture felt like the ice had started to melt. An uncontrollable grin spread across his face.
***
A hard lump lodged in Jemy's throat when he saw Clay enter the room. "What is that?" He asked, staring at the long white object Clay carried.
"It's a disintegration gun. Of sorts. Obi helped me construct it from leftover parts."
The gun looked like a mishmash of different things. The main part was a bulky white cylinder that narrowed to a flat point at the front. The back end bulged out into a disc shape. Clay's arm was through a slot along the bottom, his hand resting on a second bulge about a third of the way down the main section. An improvised strap, slung over Clay's shoulder, wrapped around the grooves made by the disc and hand-bulge. Jemy couldn't tell how the disparate parts stuck together, but it seemed more like a toy created by an imaginative child than a real weapon.
"Why did you need a gun?"
"It took me time to gather all the plants for the lounge. I had some close encounters when I first ventured outside. This," Clay said, holding the weapon out, "provided some measure of safety."
Jemy took a deep breath in. "And why do you think we need that now?"
"I sent Marisil to find them when I realized how long they'd been gone. Then I talked with Havenstar. Something's there. Something that made her seal that section. I've negotiated an opening, though. We'll have to go much of the way on foot."
Jemy scrunched his face. He wasn't sure if the 'her' was Marisil or Havenstar. It seemed Clay referenced them both equally. But now wasn't the time to figure out who he negotiated with. He just wanted to find Reby and RJ. He followed close behind Clay, as they entered and exited the transporter before roaming down corridors and lifts. He had no idea where they were, or where they were going.
He had so many questions, but he kept quiet. Icy knives were making their way into his heart with every step. He'd been working on building the lexicon, and puzzling over how the new symbol fit into it, when Clay had interrupted him.
It had been hours since RJ and Reby had left. He hadn't even noticed. If he'd only been more aware of the time, or if he'd refused to split up, they wouldn't be in danger. Even though he couldn't, or wouldn't, say exactly what was happening, the weapon Clay carried confirmed they were in danger. Part of him clung to a hope that they'd gotten distracted with the experiment. Everything was fine, and Clay over reacted or misinterpreted the information from Havenstar. A nagging pressure at the base of his skull told him otherwise. It's just tension. They'll be fine.
"This is it," Clay said as they rounded a corner. Marisil stood about half-way between them and a door.
"How do you know?"
"It's hard to explain. Marisil is connected to Havenstar, and I have a...connection to her."
His hesitation on the word connection made Jemy curious. It just felt odd. How could he be connected to a robot made of alien parts? He pushed his curiosity aside. If it helped them get to Reby and RJ, it didn't matter.
"Ah, maybe you should stay here," Clay said, glancing between him and Marisil. "You don't have a weapon." He waved the oversized disintegration gun.
Jemy stared at it, his brain still not able to process that it was a weapon. "That's not true." Jemy pulled out the e-blaster RJ had forced on him. Its cool grip was comfortable in his hands. Though he'd rather be working than fighting, he knew how to defend himself.
Clay peered at the relatively tiny e-blaster. "Uh, better than nothing. Stay behind me. This is short-ranged and doesn't care what it hits. Oh, and it'll be loud." He gave Jemy an apologetic look.
More questions ran through Jemy's mind. He nodded back at Clay. Save them first, ask questions later.
Marisil rolled along in front of them. The door swished open and she paused. Nothing in the hallway before them looked any different from any other. While they waited behind her, Jemy strained his ears, trying to hear anything. But she rolled forward with more speed. Over and over she'd rush ahead, pause when they came across a junction, then dart down her chosen path. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. Each breath burned his lungs, never filling them full. Still, he stayed close behind Clay, ignoring the stitch in his right side.
Marisil came to a stop, and for once didn't instantly take off again.
Jemy bent over, holding his side. He looked up at Clay, who didn't seem the least bit winded. I never should have stopped exercising! He breathed in deep, thankful for the break to catch his breath. Something rancid hit his nose and crawled down his throat. He coughed, choking on the foul smell. This can't be good. Gathering his composure, he noticed Clay staring him.
Clay put his finger in front of his lips, then pointed down the hallway past Marisil. Dirt spotted the floor. What looked like massive footprints trailed toward them before turning around a corner to the left.
The robot moved forward, barely pausing as it hit the dirt, then disappeared following the trail.
Clay waved at Jemy to follow him. "Ah, she says it's clear. But there was definitely something in here. Probably still is." He held the gun up and went after Marisil.
Jemy pulled his shirt up over his nose, the smell of sweat not quite enough to drown out the pungent odor, and dashed after him.
Once he'd rounded the corner, he noticed the source of the smell sitting in the center of the hallway. The pile of slimy, loose dung was unbelievably large. Whatever made that.... He redirected his thoughts away from how big a creature would need to be. Then he saw the blood. It was spattered along the wall, then smeared along the floor under the pile of poop, then disappeared into the wall. He saw the double line stretching from floor to ceiling that indicated a door. They're in there. He forgot the smell and rushed past Clay and Marisil to the door. When it didn't open, he pounded on it. "Reby? RJ? Are you alright?"
"Stop!" Clay commanded.
He did. A distant sound that could have been Reby's voice teased his ears, but a series of thumps drowned it out. Pressing his ear up against the door, he strained to hear her voice over the pounding. He caught his breath.
A gigantic creature filled the hallway, exactly where he'd stood just a few seconds before. He pulled back from the door into a defensive stance, e-blaster level and steady. In front of him and to the right, Clay held the disintegration gun ready. Marisil stood to his side.
Jemy didn't dare look away from the creature, who's head tilted downward and shook side to side. It's long head looked like a mask with enormous black eyes surrounded by a pattern of color. Yellow ran down the bridge and edges of its snout and above the eyes. A greenish-black, not quite as dark as its eyes, filled in between the yellow.
"What are you waiting for? Shoot it!" Jemy's screeched.
"It's not close enough yet," Clay replied with an unnerving calm.
"Not close enough! What do you mean, not close enough?"
Clay didn't answer. He stepped away from the wall toward the beast.
The creature opened its jaws and roared.
Jemy fired.
The shot hit just above the creature's eyes, but he couldn't see any damage.
It let out a piercing cry then lunged.
Jemy fought the urge to run by firing again, aiming to the left so he didn't hit Clay. He saw Marisil zip toward the creature on the right while Clay steadied himself in the center of the hallway, the gun raised.
An explosive boom reverberated down the corridor. Jemy dropped to his knees and covered his ears. His vision blurred. He curled up as the dark mass of the creature flew at him.
The sudden silence made Jemy open his eyes. Just past his feet, the hulk of the creature lay unmoving. Thick, overlapping plates of armor covered the entire body, even the underside, and the coloring echoed what he'd seen on its head. He shivered to think why an animal of that size would need so much protection. Thankfully, this one was definitely dead. A charred lump that somehow looked like it had both imploded and exploded was where its head used to be. While he was still trying to understand what he was looking at and how it happened, he fell backwards as the door he was leaning on swished open.
"Jemy!"
Reby's voice never sounded so good. He jumped up just as she ran into his arms. She squeezed him hard before pulling away. "RJ?"
Her face paled. "Over here."
She took his hand and led him to RJ, passed out and propped up against one of the many boxes littering the room.
Clay followed them into the room. "Oh."
Jemy turned and saw him surveying the space, clutching the gun to his chest.
"Quite the mess," Clay said, catching Jemy's eyes.
Jemy fought off a sensation that the turned over boxes, bits and pieces of metal, and trash were closing in on him. Focus on RJ! He slowed his breathing and the overwhelming urge to run out of the room — or clean — reduced to a nagging pull.
"He's lost a lot of blood, and he hit his head," Reby said, kneeling down next to RJ. "When the pain hit him, I gave him something from his first aid kit. He's been in and out since. Not making much sense. Maybe I gave him too much?"
Jemy crouched on the other side of his friend. RJ's face was pale and most of his shirt was tied around his blood-soaked leg. Jemy had never seen him look worse. And he had seen him in some pretty unpleasant situations. The icy knives dug deeper into his chest. If only we'd gotten here sooner. "Are you ok?" He asked Reby, the words catching in his throat.
"Yes. And this is my fault. It probably wouldn't have chased us if I hadn't shot it. Maybe." She shuddered.
Their eyes locked, the shared guilt reaching an equilibrium between them.
"Reby, I'm so glad you're not hurt," Clay said. "But don't blame yourself. The nihtgen would have attacked anyway."
She gave Clay a quick smile, the kind Jemy had seen her give to everyone who offered condolences at their parents' Release Ceremony.
"Let's get him to the auto-doc," Jemy said. "Do you feel up to helping me with him?" He picked up RJ's arm.
"Jemy! When d'you get 'ere?" RJ's eyes were barely open. His face scrunched up. "You smell awful!" He blinked slowly, then fell asleep again.
Jemy noticed his shirt sticking to him, a wetness stretching from his right shoulder down his legs. The dung had splattered and covered him when the creature lunged. He shoved down his vomit response, leaned over, and slid his arm around RJ's torso. Reby did the same, and they got him on his feet.
"I can help." Clay moved to take RJ from Reby.
"No. I've got him."
Clay stepped back. "I think it will take all of us to carry him past it."
Jemy looked out the doorway. Clay was right. The body not only filled the hallway but partially blocked the door.
The tired expression on Reby's face hardened into determination.
Jemy always admired her ability to shift so fast—when she wanted to. He doesn't have a clue how much she cares about him. If they didn't have to rush RJ to the auto-doc, he might have tried to force them to talk to each other. Three years of close quarters, antics, and avoidance felt like a never-ending trip on the rollercoasters of Cayro.
"You take his feet," Jemy said.
Clay did as instructed. "The transporter isn't far. I'm sure he'll be alright." His eyes fixed on Reby.
"Let's go," she said, her voice soft but forceful.
They carried RJ out the door and climbed over the beast's legs, avoiding the clawed feet. "Marisil!" Jemy said when he saw the robot partially crushed under the creature, her usual color-filled face plate now black. "What happened?"
"She was trying to distract it so I could get my shot in."
"I'm sorry," Jemy said.
"Thank you, but apologies aren't necessary."
"Hey, what's up with the robot? She don't look—" RJ asked as they shifted him over the last part of the beast. His eyes went wide, his body tensed, then he struggled like he was trying to stand.
Jemy nearly lost his hold as RJ rotated into Reby. Upon seeing her, he stopped pulling away and his body relaxed.
"Hi," RJ said to her before his eyes closed again.
"See? I really think I gave him too much," she said.
"He'll be fine in no time," Jemy said, giving her a smile before adjusting his hold.
A curt nod told him his assurances didn't quell her worry.
They reached the transporter, and Clay gently put RJ's legs down. "Are you sure you don't want help getting him into the auto-doc?"
Reby gave the slightest shake of her head to Jemy.
"Don't you want to check on Marisil?" He asked.
"Yes, yes. Of course. I thought...let me get you to the docking bay first. Then I'll come back for Marisil." Clay put his hand on the control panel, then the doors opened to the docking bay.
"Thank you," Reby said, throwing a quick glance at Clay.
Jemy saw his face brighten. "Yes, thank you. For everything." They exited toward the shuttle, moving as fast as they could.
***
Meaningless symbols scrolled and flashed across the auto-doc display panel. Reby leaned up against the dome covering RJ, cursing at herself, Jemy, RJ and anything else that she felt held some responsibility for their lack of medical knowledge. Still, color had returned to his face, the specialized fixer was attending to his leg, and his vitals were steady. At least I know what those are.
"See? He's doing fine," Jemy said pointing to the display.
She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, his arm around her shoulders. His heartbeat thudded against her ear. They both were winded after carrying RJ into the shuttle.
"Now it's your turn." He pulled away, turning her around and pointing toward the chair across the room.
"I'm fine, really."
"Then this won't take long."
She nodded and sat in the chair. As Jemy pulled out the body analyzer from one of the panels along the wall, an erie sense of deja vu hit her. It wasn't quite right, though. Jemy had been in the chair, she'd been using the fixer, and RJ was doing gymnastics to explain why he'd been late. That time it was all RJ's fault. This time it's all mine, and it's so much worse. Her chin dropped, a wave of exhaustion sweeping down her body as Jemy waved the analyzer over her.
"You need rest and hydration, but otherwise you're right. You're fine." Jemy placed the analyzer back on the shelf and the panel retracted into the wall. "Feel up to telling me what happened?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "We transported. Argued. Went into the hall and argued some more then that thing showed up. It started walking toward us and the transporter door wouldn't open." She squirmed in the chair, crossing and uncrossing her arms. "RJ was cautiously walking backward and I jumped in front of him and shot it. It came at us. We ran, then he stumbled...hit his head. If that room hadn't opened we'd probably both be dead."
Jemy rubbed her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the river from flowing out.
"Don't blame yourself," Jemy said. "This structure is so empty, so not threatening that we got complacent." He paused.
She could hear him swallow, then clear his throat before pulling away. "If it hadn't been for Clay you might still be down there. I'm sorry for not noticing how long you were gone."
She breathed deeply, forcing her emotions down, before looking at him. "It's not your fault either then. We've all been pushing forward without paying attention to where we are." She rubbed her forehead. We need a better plan."What about Clay? RJ still thinks he's a threat even if the structure isn't."
Jemy shook his head. "No. He's odd for sure, but if he wanted to hurt us he could have at any time. He has a disintegration gun, of alien design. Not to mention the control he had over our ship systems even before we landed. After today, I'm convinced he really is what he says."
She felt relief wash over her. After spending the day fending off a monster, she was happy they didn't have to worry about another one in their midst. "I do like him. Oddness and all. And I feel sorry for him. I can't imagine being apart from everything and everyone I know and love for so long."
"What about RJ?"
Her head snapped up. "What about RJ?"
"You like Clay. How do you feel about RJ?"
She searched his eyes, trying to divine what he knew. RJ said he didn't tell him. A vice tightened around her throat. She didn't like keeping secrets from him, but there were a few things she couldn't bear him to know. Her trist with RJ was one. "You know what I think of him and his stupidity."
He returned her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "The two of you really need to sit and talk. The sooner the better."
She opened her mouth to reply. The auto-doc let out a series of four high-pitched beeps followed by a longer low-tone. Cold fingers gripped her heart, exhaustion fading away as she rushed across the room.