HMS Valediction

Chapter 13

I startle. After existing in fear and hearing that sound in so many nightmares, it's difficult to shake the subconscious terror. "What the hell is that?"

The tapping continues, but it's not just behind me. It's above, below, and at my side. It's everywhere. The noise permeates from the walls.

"Fuck. How many Xani are here?"

When I look back, globs of white goo slide down the clear, chunky window.

I detect a smell. It's faint at first, but the more I inhale, the stronger it gets. It smells like months-old sour milk festering in copper barrels.

"Holy freaking Lady on a Landmine, John. That reeks. What is it?"

John dances again. His head bobs up and down as he head-bangs to his own erratic beat. The Xani in the walls respond with a forceful echo.

Cold dread settles over. "I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." I back into a corner, wrapping my arms around myself. Are these the noises that follow me? I assumed it was just my one friend all along, but there are more. With the echoes, it sounds like I'd find at least three or four more sets of legs if I were to peel back the slats of beryllium.

My fists clench my arms tighter. My hairs stand on edge.

But what trouble have my fearful conclusions gotten me into before?

Tons. So many. I need to think differently now.

I force my fear away and step up to John's side.

For long minutes, nothing changes. John performs his tap-dance, the Xani scuttle through the pipes, I stand my ground, and the window weeps.

Suddenly, it stops. All of it. The room returns to silence as space floats by outside.

When I realize the dance is over, I return to my spot. I don't know how to understand what the fuck that was. Asking John is more useless than trying to mend a leaky faucet with laughter.

Grime collects under my jagged, torn fingernails while I dig them into the material of my dress, waiting for some cataclysmic boom to pop the fragile facsimile I've put together. Nothing moves. I'm hyper-aware that they're around me, but I can't see them.

"Is this some sort of trap?" I unwind, nerve by nerve. "Like you're luring me here to get me comfortable so you can dismember me later when I least expect it?"

John shudders, shedding petals of his flaky skin. One strip lands like a feather on the floor. I watch it, recognizing it from somewhere else. It bubbles around the contours of the slanted metal slats on the uneven ground, forming a custard scab.

This yellow crust—I've seen it before. I've seen it every single day I've been aboard ARC10 and the image slaps me upside the head so hard, I tip sideways on impact. I can't believe it's taken me this long to see something that's been staring me in the face all along.

"Holy shit—they're eating it." I jump to my feet as quickly as possible and run for the door. I need Knuckles to confirm this. If I'm right, we're screwed. "Let's move, John."

I gesture the Xani forward, but he doesn't move. He stares at me with upside-down eyes and a slippery, dripping mouth. Returning to the room, I get behind him and push, poking at his legs to get him walking sideways. "Move! Move! Move!" I scream at him through the effort.

Knuckles will confirm it. He'll find a cure for Rind and he'll find a way to bring order to the ship that's falling apart by the neurons.

We rush through the passageways, the rapid ticks of my nightmare are alive beside me. This time, I have eyes on my monster. The passageways seem brighter. There's hope. We can fix this. We can make the Crust go away and make the whole trip a hell of a lot more manageable.