Target 10 S3.1 From One Bad Thing to...
The grass moved in waves towards him. There was no wind.
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Searing pain swept up RJ's wrist as the creature clamped down on his right hand. He dropped the tablet and tried to rip the thing off. But the tail stretched longer and wrapped around his forearm. The boney fingers of the webbed hand at the end dug through his jacket into his skin just below his elbow.
"Fuck!" He ripped the tail out of his arm, grabbing it so it couldn't wind itself around some other part of his body. He yanked the creature by the tail, but it held on. Then he heard, and felt, a crack as the tail broke off, wildly swinging of its own accord.
Shaking his hand, he flung the tail aside even as it tried to grab onto him again. His hand now free, he squeezed the creature and pulled. Something gave way with another crack and a squish. It went limp. He tossed it as far as he could and turned to go back to the shuttle. Blood ran down his wrist from under the glove and his right elbow felt wet.
He turned his head back and yelled at the corpse, "You better not be poisonous, you little shit!"
He froze. The grass moved in waves towards him. There's no wind. Low whimpers grew louder. In the dim light from the shuttle he saw what looked like shadows rising and falling, the shrill cacophony of shoo shoo shi-ooo matching them in time.
He ran.
Fumbling, he managed to pull the E-blaster from his pocket and fire blindly behind him. Something jumped on his back. Several somethings. He swatted one away from his head. Another clamped down on his neck through his jacket. The tail flew past his face and he grabbed it before it could wrap around his throat. He pulled, the tail detached.
His heart pounded as the air, thin as it was, whistled by his ears. Up and down his legs tails tightened and teeth gripped him. He swatted at them, but stumbled forward. More jumped on him, swirling to the front of his body, too. Visions of being consumed by balls of fur flashed through his mind. He gave up trying to knock them off and ran faster than he ever had.
He dashed up the ramp, hit the button to close it, then smashed his back into the wall. Stepping away from the wall, bodies fell to the ground. Not all of them. He rammed into the wall again. "Jemy!"
Even as the dead ones dropped, dozens more rolled and jumped up the inclined ramp. Too slow. Too slow! Finally, the ramp was high enough that the rest couldn't reach it. He kicked away the ones rushing at him as they got close, but there were still too many. "Jemy!"
He ran down the corridor towards the med room, knocking off ones that hadn't yet clamped on. Holding up his E-blaster, he switched the settings to one that wouldn't blow a hole in the ship. He hoped it'd still be strong enough.
Outside the door, he stopped. A swarm of furballs still came at him down the narrow corridor. He fired. The wide beam setting killed the ones in the front instantly. They rolled forward with their momentum, the ones behind pushing them even closer to him. He fired again, again, again, until he had a pile of black fur at his feet.
He breathed.
Burning, stabbing pain racked his entire body.
Horrified, he saw at least a dozen furballs still attached to him. Squeezing and pulling, he removed them one by one, adding the bodies to the pile on the floor.
Stumbling, he entered the med room, stripped off his clothes and peeled off the resper. He tried to ignore the blood and red welts and the pulsating pain as he climbed into the autodoc.
He closed his eyes as a mist filled in around him. It cooled his wounds, and the pain subsided. Lights flashed and a warming sensation spread from his head down to his feet. Exhaustion fought with the fear, the sense they were still on him. Breathe. They're dead.
His Nexo buzzed. Ten minutes? It's only been ten minutes?
A fixer unfolded from the side of the dome around him. It slid up to his head, extending until it reached his neck. A few seconds of warmth and he knew the wound there was healed. The fixer moved onto the next one, and the next across the front of his body. There was a whirring sound and the surface underneath him dropped to make room for the fixer to heal the wounds on the other side.
His heart rate increased, in part because he always hated the feeling of being levitated. Mostly because time was running out. He needed to get up, fly back to Reby. They needed to get back to Reby.
Where the hell is Jemy?
The autodoc beeped cheerfully three times, and the dome opened. He swung his legs over and dropped to the floor, a shiver running up his body as his feet touched the cool floor. The machine's display flashed green text. Green is good. That's all he knew about the codes on the older model autodoc. They hadn't needed it for anything other than minor injuries in any of their treks. Until this one. Forget chairs, my share is going towards an idiot proof autodoc.
He found his underwear under his shirt where he'd thrown them on the chair, the only other furniture in the room. Circular bloodstains, from where teeth had gripped him, dotted the fabric. At least I didn't crap myself. He shivered again.
Glancing at his Nexo he saw he had three minutes before they were supposed to reconnect with Reby. Remembering she could see inside the shuttle, he slipped the underwear on, then examined the rest of the clothes. Too much blood, rips. I can't. For a brief moment he lamented his brown jacket. It was his favorite, but now it would forever feel like he was covered in furballs. I've got time to get new ones.
He picked up the E-blaster, also under the shirt where he'd dropped it, just in case any of the little bloodsuckers survived and were wandering around. He hurried to the door, opened it.
Marisil blocked the doorway.
The display panel that served as her face glowed a fiery, pulsating red. The central cube that made up most of her body was still broken from the nihtgen encounter with a huge dent in the middle and one corner bent outward. Her spherical base was covered in bits of furball from where she rolled through the pile. She pointed one of their E-blasters at him and fired.
RJ, never more thankful to have added ID triggers, brought up his own weapon and shot her. Nothing happened. "Crap!" He pulled it back, changing the setting to something more powerful with a narrow beam.
Marisil grabbed his right wrist, her metal mesh fingers squeezing, and pushing it up and away from her. The action lifted him so only his toes touched the floor.
His grip on the E-blaster loosened. He dropped it, his left hand catching it and firing at her core.
The blast sent her backwards.
RJ was yanked off his feet, pulled along as her grip never released him. He smashed into her when she hit the far wall of the corridors, the bent metal slicing into his chest. The pain didn't register. An inert Marisil was falling, sliding down the wall to his left. They crashed to the floor together, his left shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.
Her limbs were stiff and unyielding, her hand still latched onto him, though it no longer squeezed. Her display face was dark.
He pushed himself up onto his knees and tried to peel her three silver and black metal fingers off his arm. They wouldn't budge. A flash of color caught his attention.
Her face flickered, yellow to red to black. Then again.
"Hell no!" He lifted the gun to the opening in the chassis and blasted her insides.
A sickening gurgle erupted as her body shifted from the impact. Her fingers went limp.
He jumped up, out of reach. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The memory of the eyes he'd seen flashed into his mind. An odor, something between rust and charred plastic, wafted from her. Leaning forward, he saw the hole was bigger, pushed farther out from the blast. Peering inside turned his stomach.
Blood and orange-black fur were splattered over the flat surfaces. The rear end of a small animal, something resembling a miniature pumaria on Parkan, lay at the bottom. The two skinny back legs, about the length of his hand, twitched. Silver banded tubes protruded from them, disappearing into holes at the bottom. Other tubes sticking out of the metal had bits of flesh still stuck to their ends. Half a head, with a pointy ear and one golden eye, slowly slid down until it came to rest on the legs. The eye blinked.
Hand over his mouth, he turned away, retching. Just reflexes. It's not alive. Not anymore. Panic rose inside him. Jemy. Reby!
He leaped over the pile of furballs, and ran toward the cockpit.
RJ's bare feet slapped on the smooth tiles, the sound mixing with his heartbeat and heavy breathing. He slowed as he rounded the corner into the cockpit.
Jemy's body sprawled at the base of the flight control panels. Blood covered the side of his head.
"No, no, no!" He put the E-blaster down on the pilot's seat and dropped to the floor. Relief welled up inside him when he saw Jemy breathe. You're alive! The source of the blood was a gash along his friend's temple, still wet, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He reached for his mini-fixer, but realized he didn't have pockets, or pants. "I've got you, buddy."
His body groaned as he picked Jemy up, his right arm throbbing and his legs nearly buckling. He paused, resting Jemy on the co-pilot's seat while he gathered his energy. Then he saw the time on the holodisplay. Four minutes past Reby's planned reconnection.
"Aida!"
"Yes, RJ?"
"Have you connected with Reby?"
"No. She is four and a half minutes late for her scheduled contact."
"I'm going to kill the bastard!"
"I assume you are referring to Clay?"
"Of course I am!"
"May I suggest you take Jemy to the autodoc first? His biosignature indicates he is in distress."
"Yeah." He sighed. "While I do that, can you fly us back to the star?" Cradling Jemy, he exited the cockpit back down the hallway.
"Yes, and no. I can bring the shuttle into the vicinity of the star, but once you pass the energy shield, I will no longer have access without Reby's assistance."
RJ's legs and arms burned, sweat dripped down his cheeks. Halfway there. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath. "Get us close then. We need to get to Reby. Fast."
"Agreed."
As he approached the med room, scattered furball bodies covered the floor. He stepped around them until he reached the pile. Marisil lay along the base of the wall, her face still blank. With another sigh of relief, he stepped over the pile, his foot dragging through the top of it. At the touch of fur he panicked, launching himself, and Jemy, forward.
Unable to stop his momentum, he twisted, trying to aim for the recessed door to the med room. His shoulder landed along the edge, not enough to keep them from sliding forward, but enough he didn't fall. Or give Jemy a worse head wound. He rubbed his foot across the floor as he went through the door, unable to shake the sense something was stuck there.
He ignored it as the door closed behind him and he placed Jemy on the autodoc.
The dome cover closed and the display came to life.
"How is he, Aida?" His legs and arms trembled. He moved his ripped, bloodstained shirt off the chair and sat down. Lifting his feet, he rubbed the bottoms, pulling a bit of sticky fur from between his toes.
"The head wound is not serious. The system is searching for a reason behind his elevated vital signs. These symptoms are similar to a Mez crash, however, there is no trace of that substance in his system."
"Mez? No. Milip! I knew it." Guilt stabbed him in the chest. If only I'd made him get in the autodoc before we left. Anger swelled up. Clay gave it to him on purpose, planned for him to collapse.
"What is milip? It isn't in my database."
"It's something harvested from a native plant here. Clay gave it to Jemy not long before we left. Will he be alright? Survive?" The words choked out, his throat suddenly dry.
"He isn't in any mortal danger. I can give you a full medical explanation of his condition and treatment."
"No, I don't need to hear it. How long until he's awake?"
"The autodoc has sedated him for a period of two hours."
RJ rested his head in his hands. A sharp pain radiated down his right forearm. "Shit!" The pain shifted to an intense throbbing, and he noticed how swollen and bruised he was. He stood and slid out the panels on the wall until he found a fixer. A few minutes later, he'd treated his arm, chest and shoulder, though he still felt weak.
"How long until we reach the star?"
"We're hovering above it now."
"Shit!"
"Why do you repeatedly refer to excrement?"
"Because I'm fucked." A pressure built behind his eyes, a dam that threatened to break open. "I need to get to Reby. Rescue her from that psychopath, and I'm going to have to do it alone. And you may not have noticed I—" The words stopped. A fire ignited, drying out the ocean of tears and the wells of self-pity he'd fallen in. He didn't matter. I've got to save her. "Never mind."
Picking up his pants, he started going through the pockets, pulling out the items he thought he might need and piling them on the chair. "He'll be ok right? If he wakes up while I'm gone?"
"He will wake up physically healthy."
He paused. Something about what she said struck him. "Physically?"
"Yes."
"You're making it sound like there might be something else wrong with him."
"There is a possibility. Depending on the nature of the substance, he could have a negative mental or emotional reaction. For example, users of Mez have been known to be suicidal, in some cases they have been violent."
"But it's not Mez. And how do you know so much about it?"
"It may not be Mez, but the physical effects are similar. It's a reasonable concern that he may struggle in some way when he is revived. I know so much because Reby ensured my databases were complete in regards to recreational and illicit drugs."
So many thoughts ran through his mind, questions that didn't matter. Not now. Except for one.
"In the cockpit you were able to see Jemy was in distress. Why didn't you let me know? Like right when it happened?"
"You seemed occupied with your own issues."
"If you call a hoard of fury bloodsuckers and a homicidal robot issues!"
"Forgive me if I've used the wrong word, RJ. I am highly advanced, but I am still learning how to interact with you."
"You didn't interact with me at all! If you knew Marisil was here, you should have told me. You did know Jemy needed help, but you didn't tell me. I only found those furballs because I was killing time." He winced, the idiom far too accurate.
"My programming prevented me from assisting you unless you asked for help."
"What?"
"My programming prevented me from assisting you unless you asked for help."
"Why is that?" He dropped his pants back on the floor and picked up the pile from the chair.
"Those were Reby's instructions. I assume you know she programmed me to respond to each of your personalities appropriately. She explained that you prefer to work things out yourself, and always refuse help when it is offered. But you willingly accept it when you ask. My observations corroborated her assessment."
He fumed. "There is a difference between me not wanting help with things and being faced with life-threatening situations. If a member of the crew is in distress, you need to let the others know!"
"Yes. I agree. The situation with Jemy was difficult for me. I assure you, though, I was unable to notify you."
"From now on, I am asking you to keep me informed and to offer help when you know I, or anyone else here, needs it. And to let me know if we have stowaways on board! Why didn't you tell Jemy about Marisil?"
"Jemy was already incapacitated when I noticed Marisil. I am unable to read a biosignature, but I registered movement and identified an entity of unknown origin. There was no way I could know it was hostile."
"Now you know!"
"Then, according to your new parameters for our communication, you'd want to know that Marisil has moved from the position outside the door?"
RJ twisted to face the door, his chest heaving as he realized he'd left the E-blaster in the cockpit. "Shit!" He dropped the items onto the chair again and rifled through the pile. Nothing.
"Your weapon is still in the cockpit. But there is another in the corridor, one point four meters to the left of the med room door. I hope this is considered helpful." Aida said.
"Yes, yes, it is. Where is it? Where did it go?"
"Marisil?"
"Yes!"
"It just passed by the sleeping quarters, heading toward the rear of the ship."
RJ imagined where Marisil would try to go next. The sleeping quarters, kitchen and lounge were next to each other in a rectangular block at the center of the shuttle. A corridor ran around the outside of it, giving easy access to all rooms no matter what direction they went.
Engineering was connected to the corridor by a short, narrow hallway towards the rear of the ship. Is it coming back here, or headed for engineering? He shivered. If it got to engineering, it would be easy to disable, or destroy the shuttle.
"It has just entered the junction between the living quarters and engineering," Aida updated him.
"Lock the doors on both ends. Let's see it get out of there!" He grabbed the handful of items off the chair. A mishmash of multi-tools, a mini fixer, and G-discs were what he deemed absolutely necessary. Even with clothes, he'd feel naked without them.
"Lock this door behind me. No one gets in but Reby or me. Don't let Jemy out without telling him about the situation." He hesitated at the door. "Is it trapped?"
"Yes. It is attempting to open the door to engineering using brute force. So far it has not caused significant damage."
"That's what I wanted to hear." He exited the med room and looked to his left to find the E-blaster on the ground amidst a few smashed furball bodies. Marisil must've dropped it when she let him go. After checking the settings, he held it up and hurried down the corridor. He came around the corner and heard a dull thumping, then the creaking of metal giving way. It grew louder as he neared the door to the hallway where Marisil was trapped.
"Shit!" Sprinting to the sleeping quarters, he dropped the items onto his bottom bunk. He opened his drawers, grabbed whatever was on top, and dressed. With quick, practiced motions, he refilled his pockets.
"Any changes, Aida?" He asked as he double checked the E-blaster settings and left the room.
"It has managed to pry apart the access panel of the door to engineering. It is smashing it now, I assume in an attempt to open it. It doesn't appear to have the intelligence I associate with artificial entities."
RJ stopped a meter or so away from the door to where Marisil was trapped. "Can you disable it somehow? I'd rather not face that thing if I don't have to." He shivered, a phantom throb pounding in his right forearm.
"Were you onboard the Demption, I might have some countermeasures, but the shuttle only has external defenses."
He stared at the door, his mind running scenarios and trying to focus on the ones where he didn't die.
"May I make a suggestion?" Aida asked.
"I'll take anything you've got."
"My analysis of your previous encounter suggests that the initial shot you fired worked something like an EMP, stunning it for a brief—"
"Very brief!"
"—time. Perhaps repeating your last pattern would allow you to disable it again."
"I was hoping you had some ideas on how to make it stay disabled — or kill it. Preferably kill it."
"I am sorry. I don't have a better solution."
"What is the probability that it will break out?"
"One hundred percent. It has already broken a portion of the door to engineering. I estimate the breach will be wide enough for it to pass in less than two minutes."
He held his breath. The sound of hammering and metal bending were louder than his heartbeat. If I can't kill it, I just need to get rid of it.
"Aida! I've got it. Here's what we're going to do."