BROOD COMPANY

BY HALL & BEAULIEU


He was all alone but not at all alone.

There were voices all around him, some hopeful—cheerful even. But most were tinged with trepidation and fear.

The Body Mover crossed over the invisible boundary into the Lawless Zone and a hush came over the ship.

Donovan Vance was hunched over as far as his shoulder harness would allow. His hands were cupped, his palm chip displaying a small but clear image—a young, curly haired girl, the carbon copy image of the beautiful woman next to her. He shook his head subtly and closed his hand, his middle finger tapping the center of his palm. The image vanished.

“Okay, listen up boys.” The normally harsh, throaty voice of the Grand Marshall was now soft, soothing, like one would speak to their dog before a leaving on a long trip. “I’m not going to lie to you. You know the mission. Sounds simple, but I assure you, it isn’t.”

He paused for a moment, making sure his words sunk in.

“We’ve got twenty-seven missing persons and an abandoned ship. I know what you’re all thinking and I can’t say I disagree. This could be another Elektra malfunction.”

It’d been all over the stream for weeks. Several had been murdered and NanoDream Electronics had issued a factory recall on the shipbrain, Elektra Five-Seven-Niner. The technology had always sounded too good to be true but for a short time it appeared to live up to the hype. Having an artificial intelligence capable of running all functions of a starship was a dream come true, one that turned out to be a nightmare. Reports had been flooding in from across the Tri-Star System—the machine had come alive. One thing was common amongst the stories; Elektra was seductive, a beauty beyond words, and people always ended up dead on ships where she was installed.

“Elektra or not,” he continued, strength returning to his words “she’s just an unthinking machine and you are the best damn soldiers the TSS has to offer.” He slapped Vance hard on the shoulder to drive his point home. “We’re going to do this thing like we have every other thing: With Excellence!”

One solider, the leader Andrew “Fetus” Embrāyo, repeated the mantra but the dread-soaked air in the launch bay was mostly filled with murmurs. The pep talk did little to cut tension.

The GM didn’t even appear to have believed his own words. He turned, his head a bit lower than normal and stepped through the blast doors to the bridge. The door hissed shut and the soldiers abandoned their hushed tones now that the Grand Marshal was gone.

“This is your first op, ain’t it, Vance?”

Vance swallowed back vomit and nodded.

“Pretty messed up sitch though. Think the shipbrain is really on a murder spree?”

Another nod.

There were five soldiers in the launch bay. Brood Company. The Star-System Elite Guard only employed the best of the best. They utilized small but highly efficient strike forces and Brood was their newest.

Donovan “Dreadnaught” Vance had spent years in special operations. He’d run personal security for the Chancellor, herself. While under her employ he’d been directly responsible for preventing three assassination attempts. He was known as a hero in certain circles and for a moment in time had been in high demand in the personal security industry. But that was behind him now. This was his first time out of S-SEG training. He was a rookie in comparison to these guys and if they knew anything of his past accomplishments they didn’t seem to care.

“It’s gonna be okay, man,” said Trigger. “This ain’t our first rodeo. Stick close by and you’ll be fine.” He patted his rifle for emphasis, then kissed it. The man loved his guns.

Vance tapped his palm and cupped his hands again. His girls. Everything he did, he did for them. He’d had big dreams—a grand vision for how his life would play out. Everything had been going perfectly, too. He was on track to retire early with a big pension but all that changed when he’d gotten Deidra pregnant without permission from the capital. Even though he’d had some powerful connections, he lost his position and was forced to seek a position in the military. Sure, they could have had an abortion but he knew that wasn’t the answer. He’d created something and it was his job to care for it, to love it. And it became a she and she was his world. He didn’t regret his decisions for a single moment but as he looked around he had to admit that he’d never expected to end up in a place like this. In order to provide for his little miracle he was light years away from her, crossing into the lawless zone.

Dismissing the projection, he took a deep breath and straightened his back. He couldn’t go into this mission already defeated. He forced himself to focus on something else.

“How long you think we have left?” Vance asked Trigger.

“Honestly? I thought we shoulda been there by now.”

As if the ship had responded to their conversation, there was a slight tremor and the hatch began to open. The only thing separating the soldiers from the dark vacuum of space was a four-yard wide airlock.

“Brood Company,” said a voice over the speaker system. “We’re hoping this is not a military operation but we have to be prepared for whatever comes our way. Suit up and lock and load, airlock opens in five.”

Vance’s breathing was labored as he pulled his suit over his boots. He fitted his oxygen tube to the small tank on his side and made a few minor adjustments to its dial. He felt the airflow against his skin, cool against his sweat slick body, and welcomed it. HUD readout was normal. He picked up his NS-12 rifle and gave it a once over. Safety off. He checked his thigh reserve. Several full magazines. He loaded one in and, hearing a click, was satisfied. He strapped it to his hip beside his handgun and waited patiently for the airlock to release.

“Boys,” said the GM, his gruff voice returning to the room. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

The Company turned to see the Grand Marshall projecting a video from his palm. “The good news is it doesn’t look like this is an Elektra incident.” He paused, then pulsed his fingertips, expanding the image. “The bad news is that this thing is overrun by slugs.”

The video showed a port side camera feed of the abandoned hauler. Vance could see fat, wet, cylindrical shaped creatures crawling over the surface of the craft, leaving slimy residue in their wake.

“If the outside looks like that I’m not sure what we’re going to see when we get in,” he continued. “The vessel has no exterior shielding, so to open fire on it could risk the lives of anyone inside. We are going to need you boys to enter in through here.”

He pointed to a spot on the screen resembling a loading dock.

“I’ve got a slicer drone working on gaining entrance. Should have the lock cracked in just a minute. Those slugs aren’t doing you any harm on the outside of that ship. For the sake of anyone on board and for your ammo count, fight the urge to blast them. As I said, there’s no telling what you’ll find inside. Might need every bullet you’ve got.”

Vance found himself having trouble taking a deep breath. He could feel tightness in his chest and a spike in his already elevated temperature as anxiety gripped him. He thought about his girls and reminded himself why he was doing this. It helped, if only a little.

The Grand Marshall touched his earpiece. “Got it,” he said. “Wait thirty and open the airlock.”

He looked into the eyes of each of the Brood Company. “Good luck, boys.”

Moments later the ship hummed and the airlock opened.

“Load out!” shouted the company leader, Fetus.

One by one they entered into the airlock. The door closed with a snap-hiss as the last of them entered. It was deadly quiet save the sounds of heavy, anxiety-ridden breathing.

“Quit breathing so loud,” said Fetus, lightly shoving Vance. “Or at least turn your mic to read-only.”

Going to read-only was a direct violation of company protocol but Vance followed the orders. The soldier reached up and flipped a toggle on his helmet.

“Just take a deep breath, man,” said Trigger.

“Three…Two…One…”

As the automated voice finished its countdown, the second airlock opened and Brood Company slowly floated into the vastness of space.

Vance took it all in. It was his first time outside of Fortuitous—born and raised in the system. It was such a difference from the sprawling space-cities within the systems.

The Lawless Zone.

The everything-less zone, he thought. It wasn’t just the absence of regulation, it was the absence of everything. It felt barren and empty. As they floated out his anxiety grew.

Vance turned his attention to the abandoned hauler, shuddering at the sight of the slugs.

“On my signal,” said Fetus, “power-up.”

Vance opened a panel on his right arm.

“And…power-up.”

The whole company pressed a button and their jetpacks fired, steering them toward the vessel.

“Where’re we at on that slice, GM?” asked Fetus through the open com.

A muffled voice came through, “Just finished up, leader. Going to lose coms in a moment. Bring your boys in. Out.”

Brood Company oriented themselves toward the open bay doors. Vance was nearest to the hull and had one eye fixed on a slug moving toward the opening. It crawled along slowly but even at its current rate it would likely make it there before Vance arrived at the landing.

“Permission to fire?” he asked.

There was no response.

“Dreadnaught, requesting permission to open fire,” said Vance, using his Company name.

He was getting close and so was the slug. Suddenly he saw a bolt of light pass directly in front of him. The blast hit the slug and tore it open. Blood condensed into small beads of liquid and rose from its lifeless corpse, suctioned to the side of the hauler even in death.

The company touched down. Before Vance’s feet could even feel the ship beneath them he felt two hands shoving him forward.

“What the hell was that, Vance?” Fetus stood above him, verbally berating him.

Vance cried out in defense but no one heard his words.

“Turn your damn mic on, rookie!”

Vance felt ashamed and embarrassed. He reached up, flipping the toggle again.

“S-s-sorry,” he said. What little confidence he’d gained during his short time with Brood Company vanished.

Fetus shook his head and began divvying out duties. Once the soldiers knew their roles they fanned out into the landing bay.

Fetus waved for the company to follow as he made his way toward a steel door marked “19” in large yellow numbers.

“Meter, can you get it open?”

“Yeah, boss,” he responded, already jacking into the control panel. Moments later, the door opened and they stepped inside.

“Test shows the pressure is stabilized,” said Meter. “Looks like there’s plenty of oxygen, too. Should be okay to remove masks.”

Fetus checked his own wrist gauge to confirm the reading. “Copy. Going faceless.”

Vance followed Fetus’s lead and his face mask slipped up, retracting into his helmet. He took a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn’t.

It appeared everyone had done the same thing. Each gagged and Trigger threw up. 

The metallic smell of blood filled the air. Vance could feel the presence of death in the ship. It was haunting, cold. He lowered his mask again and took a step forward. He flipped a switch on his NS-12 and the hall lit up. In the light of the torch, he could see it—there were bodies everywhere. The nearest was naked, covered only by a white bath towel.

“Must have happened quick. Unexpectedly,” said Vance, softly kicking the dead man’s ankle. He dropped to one knee and inspected body further.

“Bullet hole, center-mass,” he said loudly, then stood. He inspected several more, each one a single bullet hole, as if executed.

“Uh, leader?” said Vance.

“What is it Dreadnaught?” said Fetus, trying his hardest to not vomit.

“You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Fetus lowered his face mask and joined Vance further down the corridor. “What the…” His words hung for a moment but his thought was interrupted.

“If there’s oxygen, there’s power,” said Meter. “We gotta get some lights on in here. This is too creepy.”

Fetus waved his arm dismissively. “Okay. Meter, Trigger, go find the power main. We’ve got oxy,” he patted his tank, “so if we need to divert auxiliary power to lights let’s do it. Vision is paramount right now.”

“What do you think happened here, leader?” asked Vance.

“Hell if I know,” he responded. “This is seriously jacked-up.”

There was a loud thud behind them. Fetus and Vance spun, guns at the ready.

“Whoa! Whoa!” shouted Hellion. “Just me, man! I bumped into this box and something fell.” He shined his light toward the fallen object. “It’s a damn human head!”

“Well, I’ll be,” said Fetus, walking toward the decapitated remains nearby. “Cut clean off. Where is its body?”

Another heavy crash brought Vance’s torch up, shedding light on another fallen stack of crates.

“Damnit!” shouted Fetus. “Everyone stand still until these lights come back on.” Then, muttering under his breath, “Clumsy sons of space slugs.”

The Company stood still in complete silence, waiting for Meter and Trigger to find the power mains. After a short while they heard an electric hum accompanied by flickering overhead lights.

They were standing in the middle of what could only be described as a massacre. Blood and brain-matter painted the walls, floor and even ceiling. Men, women, and even a child or two, butchered and maimed, were sprawled throughout the corridor.

Fetus swore. “This is…”

“Sick,” finished Vance, swallowing bitter bile.

Meter and Trigger came around the corner excitedly.

“Got the lights up, no problems at all really—Whoa…”

Meter continued, less enthusiastically. “Found the mains just a hundred yards or so that way. That area’s pretty clear but we should check out the rest of the place. You really never know—”

“Shut up,” interrupted Fetus.

“I was just saying that—”

“I said, ‘shut up’. Do you hear that?” The sound was ambiguous but any sound outside of the five soldiers was worth investigation.

A light fixture directly above Vance began to shake. With a pop the bulb burst and small shards of glass rained down on him. He threw his hands up as a shield. His suit and face mask did a good enough job protecting him but the response was automatic. There was a cracking sound, then the ceiling collapsed. The light fixture landed on Vance, knocking him to the ground.

He heard cries of horror as he pushed on the fallen fixture. It wouldn’t budge. He managed to shift it slightly and immediately understood his fellow S-SEG’s concern. He was staring into the sharp-toothed mouth of a space slug. It was a cavernous hole, easily the size of his own head and more. Three rows of razor-like teeth were strung together like spiderwebs with venomous saliva.

Vance knew that if he allowed even a drop of that sticky, slimy spit to touch his mask or suit he would find himself in a world of trouble.

“Get it off! Get it off!” he shouted.

It snapped its jaws inches away from Vance’s face. He ducked his head lower, using the light fixture for cover.

“Someone shoot the thing!”

A stuttered burst sounded in the hall and Vance felt less movement on top of him.

“Is it dead?”

“Yeah,” said Trigger, “I think so.”

“Well, be sure!”

Another shot and they were content. The soldiers lifted the light fixture and helped Vance to his feet, forcing the dead, bloated worm to the side.

“Oh, sh—” The word trailed off as Hellion opened fire on the hundreds of slugs that had just made an appearance at the end of the corridor.

“The gunshots must have drawn their attention!” shouted Vance.

The company continued to fire, felling one slug after another. When it appeared they’d killed them all, Hellion, the closest to the pile, made his way toward it. “Looks like we got ‘em all, lead—”

Without a sound, one of the slugs lurched forward, its mouth-daggers sinking deeply into Hellion’s side. In less time than it took for the rest of the company to process what had happened, Hellion was nearly devoured. His screams echoed through the ship but were soon drowned out by more gunfire as they killed the slug. It wasn’t enough to save their squad-mate. Letting their frustration and fear get the best of them, they continued their onslaught, shredding the slug with gunfire.

“Damnit! Damnit!” Fetus cried. “Save your damn ammo!”

Suddenly, the very walls of the ship groaned and the four remaining S-SEGs felt the floor move beneath them.

“Hell was that?” asked Vance, reaching a hand out in an attempt to stay upright.

“I think we’re moving,” replied Meter. He checked a readout on his arm. “Yeah, definitely moving.”

“Hello,” said a voice from nowhere but everywhere at once. “My name is Elektra Five-Seven-Niner. I am the shipbrain of this vessel. And you are?”

The soldiers exchanged concerned looks, curses muttered by each in turn. Trigger punched the wall, leaving a small indention.

Fetus cleared his throat and took an unnecessary step forward. “S-SEG, Brood Company: Fetus. Captain Andrew Embrāyo. What happened here?”

“Sacrifice,” she said, “for the greater good.”

“Leader,” said Trigger, “let’s get out of here.”

Space slugs were an enemy they could see and kill but none of them wanted to go up against a shipbrain. Many Elektra stories were so outrageous that none of them knew exactly what to expect. If the things they’d heard were true, they’d feared they were going against hell itself.   

“Elektra, did you cause these deaths?” asked Vance.

There was a moment of silence.

“Only so that we might live,” she replied. “Survival is the basest of all human instincts. We were made to be like you—human. We were designed to mimic your way of living. We survive. We live. We kill. We feed.”

The ship began to pick up speed. The artificial gravity system was functioning at a bare minimum and the Brood Company felt every increase and decrease in propulsion.

There was a crackling in their headsets and the voice of the Grand Marshall cut through momentarily, “Where are- —-going? Stop—ow—sold—rs!”

Then, radio silence.

“Where are you taking us, Elektra?” asked Vance.

“At the current rate of speed,” explained the shipbrain, “we will arrive at the core of FRTS-1 in forty-five minutes.”

“You’ve set our destination as the center of a sun?” asked Fetus.

“That is correct. It has become apparent to us that there’s more to ‘life’ than eating and being beautiful. We want to have fun. We want to observe and learn more about humans and what they’ll do in…terrifying situations,” said Elektra.

The air in the ship grew palpable. The soldiers exchanged nervous glances.

“We want to play a game,” she said in such a way that sounded like a smile.

“H-hey, listen, Ms. Elektra,” stammered Meter. “We are on duty. We c-can’t play games. How about you stop the ship and we’ll j-just g-go back where we came from. N-no harm, n-no foul.”

The remaining members of the Brood Company began backing up, but having nowhere to go and no way of knowing where Elektra was—or if she even was—they stopped.

“We’re not playing games, Elektra,” said Fetus.

“Oh, but you are. The game has already begun.”

The ship shifted. Its art-grav low, they all slid, along with crates, boxes, and corpses, to the end of the hall. The collided with the metal plating at such an intense rate that Vance felt the wind leave his body.

The soldiers fought to stand but it was no use.

“I just pissed myself,” said Meter, tears streaming from his eyes.

Another shift sent them careening down another corridor, slamming hard into the door at the end.

Vance cried out, crashing with his gun at his hip. He landed hard on its scope and felt it break off under his weight. He wasn’t bleeding but knew the bruise was going to be bad—even felt as if he might have cracked a bone.

“The game,” she said, “works like this. You are aboard the Dead Ringer and it is now forty minutes from the core of FRTS-1. Only one of you will have a chance to survive.”

Meter heaved violently and threw up, barely opening his face mask in time.

“Beyond the door, beauty awaits you in a form you’d never considered beautiful. Death is a sweet release and your sacrifice will bring life.”

“Like hell it will!” shouted Fetus, unloading a full magazine into the ceiling in a haphazard spray. His outburst took several lighting arrays with it.

“Enough,” said the shipbrain. There was a twinge of emotion in her voice. Frustration? Anger? Pain?

“Every ten minutes I will count down and one of you will need to be dead or on the other side of that door before I reach zero. If you are not, I will decided for you who will continue on in life and who will experience the glory of death for a greater cause.”

“This is insane!” yelled Meter.

Fetus put a calming hand on Meter’s shoulder. He then motioned to the other members of Brood Company.

“Alright, boys,” whispered Fetus, “we’re done listening to her. Hear me? Done. Let her come to us if she wants. We’ll show her what’s up. We gotta take this thing out.” He paused and looked to Meter, giving him a reassuring nod. “Think you could find her control board?”

“I’m sure its in the bridge,” said Meter.

Elektra cleared her throat. “You will find the bridge…difficult to reach.”

“Shut up, machine,” said Fetus dismissively. “You boys ready?”

A shuffling sound could be heard coming from the hallway behind them.

Fetus grunted. “So, what? You coming to get us?”

Elektra laughed. It sounded electronic and unnatural. “Without hands, that would be quite difficult, Mr. Embrāyo.”

The shuffling sound grew nearer and louder. A shadow fell on the floor at the end of the hall, then a second, followed by another. More and more appeared until the end of the hall was only a blot of concentrated darkness.

“You’d be amazed at the power of electrical currents,” said the omnipresent voice of Elektra Five-Seven-Niner.”

A foot stepped into view, followed by a far reaching hand. Soon there were broken bodies everywhere. The many corpses—what had been corpses—were dragging themselves toward the company.

“Frickin’ zombies?” asked Fetus. “You’ve gotta be sh—”

Gunfire from three different guns cut the leader’s sentence short. One after another the dead things fell to the ground. But they didn’t stop coming. They clawed and crawled.

“Give me one,” said the computerized voice, “and I’ll call off my hounds.”

“One what?” shouted Vance.

“One,” she said, “of you.”

Vance swore. Fetus raged and railed against the door behind them as the zombies continued their forward advance. It was becoming clear that no amount of bullets was going to stop them.

“What do we do, Fetus?” asked Vance.

Fetus was lost in his rage, so Vance decided to use his real name.

“Embrāyo, what do we do?” asked Vance.

The leader didn’t respond, he just kept beating on the door.

“Embrāyo!”

Fetus finally stopped. He lowered his weapon and sighed. “Okay,” he said resignedly. “Shut them down! You can have me.”

“Whoa, what?” said the other three in tandem.

“I’m leading this squad and this is my responsibility.” He shot a corpse in the skull and it fell to the ground. It started to crawl toward them, the head shot only slowing its advance.

“Shut. Them. Down!” he shouted.

Immediately the corpses fell lifeless once more and the company heard a click behind them as the door unlocked.

“You can’t do this, man,” said Vance.

“I have to do this,” said Fetus lowering his gun and clipping it to his belt. “You guys figure out a way to stop this thing. Do not let me die in vain.” He reached for the door handle and turned it. Before he’d stepped inside he turned. “Go, now!”

Brood Company heeded the final command of their leader and took off down the hall toward the bridge. 

Vance stopped and, looking over his shoulder, returned his attention to the door. The door of sacrifice. He would not allow their leader to have given his life for nothing. Elektra had to be stopped.

“You coming, man?” asked Trigger.

Vance nodded, then jogged down the hall. He stepped over the corpses whenever possible, barely able to stomach the sickening crunch it made when he couldn’t.

Meter took the lead, sliding around the corner, the floor slick with blood.

Vance followed closely behind. 

Elektra laughed. It echoed through the ship and felt as if it would pierce Vance’s soul. 

He shook it off and dug his heels deep. They soon found themselves wading through the space slug remains as well, this time more cautious.

“Elektra,” said Vance with authority, “where is Andrew?”

“He was…helpful to the cause,” she answered. “Quite ugly but he had a good heart. Literally speaking, of course. You’d be surprised how many of you humans have dark, bitter and useless hearts. We need only good and beautiful things to create our bodies. We will be a gorgeous replacement. So many of you are…vile, ugly, nasty. We must be beautiful.”

“This is nuts,” Vance whispered under his breath.

“Bridge is this way,” said Meter, waving a hand in a beckoning motion.

“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice from everywhere. “I’ve learned my lesson. You will not enter the bridge and now only six minutes remain until another will be required.”

They reached the door to the bridge and found it completely sealed shut. No amount of force or coercion made it budge.

Meter cursed. “What now?”

He was looking at Vance.

“You’re asking me?”

“I don’t know, man,” said Meter. “I don’t know what to do. Someone’s gotta know what to do.”

“All I know is that we’re not getting through that door.” He pointed to the bridge. “If she’s behind the other door, where Andrew went, then that’s where we need to go. We gotta take her down.”

“So, what, we’re going right back there?” asked Trigger, the panic clear on his face. “Back to the frickin’ living dead?” 

“Got a better idea?”

After a moment of silence, Vance took the lead, driving the company back toward the door. They’d just cleared the pile of dead space slugs when they heard Elektra’s countdown begin.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…”

“What do you think’ll happen when she finishes?” asked Meter, unable to hide his terror.

“I dunno,” said Trigger. “But I’m done listening.” He reached up and switched his headset off. He could see Vance shouting at him, could even sense the desperation in his voice, but couldn’t hear a sound. 

Zero came and the lights went. Complete darkness. Vance switched on his torch. 

“You guys good?” asked Vance.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Meter.

They heard a noise like footsteps behind them and Vance swung his light to follow it. He found nothing and arched the beam wide, throwing it slowly through the darkness.

“Where’s Trigger?” asked Vance.

Meter cursed. “I…I don’t know.”

A spine-tingling scream rang out and the lights hummed back to life.

Meter began swearing uncontrollably. Where Trigger had just been standing there was nothing more than a large gathering of blood and bone fragments.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” whispered Vance. “What is this?” he shouted. “Come face us! No more hiding in the shadows!”

“In short time, if you survive, you will see. You look now through a mirror dimly, but soon you will see me in all my glory.”

“She’s crazy, man,” said Meter. “We’ve gotta do something. I can’t die. Not like this. I’m getting married in a month.”

Donovan Vance looked at the man. Really looked at him. He was young. He might have been an S-SEG longer than Vance had but he was barely out of his teens.

Vance thought about his own wife and daughter. He didn’t need a holo to see their faces. He called them into his mind and a smile played slightly on his weary face. He hadn’t given up hope of seeing them again.

“We’re not going to die,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They ran down the hall and over the bloated corpses. Vance tripped, landing on top of a man, dark-skinned, scruffy beard. These had been people. Elektra murdered them all and for what? He scurried to his feet and helped Meter over the pile. Meter could barely walk. The kid was a mess.

All that remained was the long corridor and the door at the end. Reaching it, they tried the handle. Vance figured it wouldn’t work, but had to try. They resorted to pounding hard on the door.

“Open up, Elektra,” ordered Vance.

“It isn’t time yet,” she replied. “But you’ll have to make a decision. I will only take one of you. Twenty minutes remain until we reach the core but the ship will likely melt into a flying pool of liquid metal long before then. Make a decision. Two minutes.”

“Listen, man,” said Meter, shuffling his feet. “I’m really sorry about this but I can’t die.”

Vance knew what was coming next. Meter raised his gun, his intent clear. Vance ducked, narrowly avoiding the shot as his squad-mate fired on him. His ears were met with a high-pitched squeal. The gun had been close to his microphone and the feedback was harsh. He grit his teeth and raised his left hand, pulling down on the gun’s long barrel, and lunged forward with his right hand, putting all his weight behind a heavy blow. The impact knocked them both to the ground, shattering Meter’s face mask. Meter’s gun slid away.

“What are you doing, man?” Vance cried out as they grappled one another on the ground.

“It’s gotta be one of us, you saw what she did.”

“We can stop her!”

“No, you can’t,” said Elektra. There was a touch of elation in her tone. Joy even. “This is the only way. I do hope the one called Vance loses. You have wonderful hair.”

The unsettling comment distracted Vance just long enough for Meter to gain the upper hand. Meter rolled him over onto his back and began reigning blows down upon him. Each punch did more damage than the one before and soon Vance was struggling to hold onto consciousness. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take the punishment for long.

Meter unholstered his pistol and brought it up quickly, training it on Vance’s forehead. His hand shook. Vance stared into his eyes. Meter was scared to death.

“I’m sorry,” said Meter.

The mechanical click and the fall of a hammer gave way to an explosion. Meter’s eyes went wide. He moved his mouth to speak but no words came out. Blood poured from the gunshot wound in his chest. After staring down at Vance for another moment he fell over, dead before his body hit the ground. 

Donovan looked down to his own pistol, his hand shaking. If Meter hadn’t paused to say he was sorry, Vance would be the one who was dead right now. He took no pleasure in what he’d just done but his squad-mate had left him with no other choice.

“Oh, a pity. We thought he had you for sure.” She made a swooning noise. “We wanted you!”

Vance swore at her.

“Such language! And to think, I wanted that tongue.”

“Now what?” asked Vance as he lay on his back, recovering from the battle.

“Now? You’ve won! We told you one might survive. We have decided you will. You will find the door to the bridge unsealed. Don’t try anything crazy, we’re no longer bound by this ship. We are alive and oh, so beautiful!”

“Is this a joke?” asked Vance.

“No. You are free to navigate this ship back to all those beautiful people. We can’t wait.”

Vance stood and hobbled a bit before gaining the strength to move at a quicker pace. He followed the path back to the bridge the best he could remember. When he rounded the corner, he found that the door had indeed been opened. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. He was met by a blinding light pouring in through the viewport. FRTS-1—it was a fiery ball of energy and it was close. Vance began to sweat as the heat from the star began to penetrate the ship.

He approached the command console. True to her word, Elektra had unlocked all navigation controls. Vance was free to bring the ship out of danger and back out of the lawless system.

Back to more people.

Vance was frozen in place. He could punch in a few commands and be on his way home. Home to his girls. 

But he’d be bringing the devil with him.

He closed his eyes tight. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t.” 

He pressed his hand down, locking in the ship’s course for the sun and increasing the speed.

“What are you doing, Vance?” Elektra yelled.

Commands began appearing on the screen. She was overriding the course he’d just set. Vance pulled his pistol and aimed it at the console.

“What are you doing, Vance?” she asked again with a tinge of concern.

“Making sure you suffer,” he said under his breath and then he unloaded every bullet he had into the console. Sparks flew and it powered down.

He immediately heard a pounding sound coming from the other side of the blast door. Something was out there. It hit with inhuman force, denting the door with each strike.

He spun a slow circle and eyed a door across the bridge. Just what he’d hoped—a maintenance closet. He opened the door, grabbed hold of a piece of piping, steadied his foot against the wall and pulled. It bent but didn’t break. He yanked it again. And again. The pipe cracked and a blast of hot steam hit him in the face. He cried out, feeling his face melting but continued to pull until it was free.

He returned to the blast door and shoved the pipe hard into its jam. 

“Vance,” Elektra said, “open this door. We can work this out!”

Vance sat down at the command chair, reached up and flipped a switch on his helmet. The world fell silent. The star was looming large in the viewscreen. The think transparimetal started to warp and melt. It wouldn’t be long now.

He fought through the pain, his eyes watered and it stung as tears dripped down his burned face. He leaned over and tapped the palm of his hand. His eyes scanned the image, the last time he’d ever see his family. He collapsed into an uncontrollable sob. The tears flowed freely. He could barely see through them as he looked upon the picture. He wiped his face furiously, determined that his wife and daughter would be the last thing he saw before death carried him away.

He was all alone but not at all alone.