I burst into the marketplace that has erupted into disaster.
What appears to be mutant yaks tower over the screaming masses. Blood stains the deck. People sprint around the open spaces grabbing anything to fight off the monstrous army.
This feels too familiar.
My hands sweat. Chills run up and down my spine. My vision blurs. I'm thrown into my memories of Dean under the slab of rock that fell from the ceiling of the URE. I duck. The shrill cries and thick smoke blind me and I wonder if Kai and the body of the child are within reach. When I open my eyes and force the past away, I can't remember if I'm trying to save everyone from the invaders in the sky or the invaders in the ship.
"Nika!"
I snap around. Moyra shoves a shoulder rifle into my arms. The HEL technology warms my skin. I heft it to my shoulder and aim at an approaching alien's head.
Before pulling the trigger that feels like a natural extension of the crook of my finger, I smile.
Much better.
It's head explodes on impact, dropping its captive and crumpling to the ground.
"I was wondering where you were," she said, giving me her million-watt smile.
"I could have asked you the same question." I aimed and shot another creature as it rushes us.
"You know me, Sister." Moyra slides behind me as we work back-to-back, punching out our targets. "I'm always around."
Another crumbles as I unload the last bit of dying power from my shoulder rifle into its cranium. I drop the dead weapon at my feet. "I'm out."
I salivate over Moyra's battery charging at her side. A quick scan of the room shows that there are still so many more creatures than fighters, and I'm left unarmed to keep Moyra's six warm.
"Commander! Catch!" McCroy runs past us and tosses a HEL-handgun my way. Limited life and power, but it will do. Aiming for the head was good before, but now, I need a softer target. The neck of the creature is fully exposed and free from armor and thick skull. They spasm and drop one by one as I shoot, flip the handgun in and out of my palms, and spin it in my open hand.
A particularly large bull approaches from the side. I shoot. It lifts its chest plate and deflects my HEL stream as it bee-lines for me, building speed. I fire at it again. It's deflected.
I want to jump out of the way, but I still have Moyra's back. I can't expose it.
The creature lowers its head. My shot does nothing to slow it down.
I have a sudden and horrible realization.
It's charging, head lowered, aiming for my middle.
Every instinct in my military-crafted mind tells me to stay and fight it, holding down my section of the room while keeping Moyra safe.
A new, poorly developed, more inconsistent maternal part drags my body to the side, covering my belly, leaving Moyra exposed.
I don't even have time to scream her name in warning as the creature butts her back. My disgust for myself rolls over my body as she flies nearly ten feet before landing in a crumpled pile on the ground. The creature pulls her limp body from the deck and drags it away, crushing the HEL-SR under its enormous hoof. It returns to search for me.
I can't move. Watching Moyra go boneless shuts my muscles down. It doesn't charge—it doesn't need to. If that happened to me, my child would die. It walks straight toward me, looming, locked on its next target.
Holding its weapon with massive, black-boned, three-fingered hands, it aims at me. It sizes me up, scanning every inch of my form, its gaze frequently pausing at my belly. Clutching its weapon tighter, the creature utters a guttural sling of noises.
This one looks different than the rest. It's bigger, broader with darker hair that's twisted into long tendrils with white beads dangling from the edges. Its wide, dark nostrils flare. The breastplate is larger, shinier, rimmed in gold. It's an officer. It must be.
I raise my chin. "I am Commander Janika Lorn of the ARC10. You have boarded my ship, violating inter-system asylum laws." I have no idea if this is true or not but my fury makes the words spill out unfiltered. I hope my bravado holds out. "Release my people."
The creature trembles.
Good. I keep my head high and wait for it to command its army to halt, to leave the civilians alone, to get the fuck off my ship, but it doesn't. It continues to convulse until it throws it's head back and emits a wheezing noise so stained, I wonder if it's dying.
That's when I realize — it's laughing at me. Right now. Right here. In this room with the world burning around us, it's fucking laughing at me.
My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth so hard, I practically feel them crack.
It stoops down to grab my arms. Scooping chips of glass and debris from under my fingers, I hurl them at the creature's head when it comes close. The sharp bits stick to its eyes. It backs away, rubbing them out with bony swipes of gargantuan fingers. I take this opportunity to rush to my feet and find something, anything in which to use as a bat.
Just a few feet away is a steel pike. With the dried orange goo at the end of it, it must be the one that impaled John's temples. I shudder, wondering where my friend is, glad that the poles are no longer in his head.
It's heavy in my hands and, luckily enough, sharpened to a deadly point. Using all the strength in my arms, I swing the bar around and point it at the creature's head.
I charge.
The squelch of it stabbing the creature in the eye is wonderful under my hands. The slight tremor of resistance of its bone shudders up the metal and through my arms. I twist it and drive it harder, hitting the back of its skull.
The creature wails, the metal bar lifting up above its head as it swings around from side to side. I scurry out of its range as it stampedes, knocking into booths and civilians. It swings its arms wildly, attempting to pull the pole out of its head. The people of ARC10 run around me in terror as the beast flings its head, whipping the pole around. It smacks at other yaks. They crash to the ground.
Finally, the creature falls to its knees and drops forward, propped up by the pole stuck in its head. When I'm satisfied the thing is dead, I search for Coodi.
On the ground is an abandoned HEL-handgun. The other in McCroy's matching set.
I'm struck by cold terror again, chills running up and down my bare arms.
There are so many of them.
Lifting the weapon, I catch another bull in the back. Above, on the platform of all my recent nightmares, Avant battles two creatures at once. Part of me is so disgusted by her part in the mutiny, I want to let her handle that on her own. But no, I need her. I need her to be with me when it matters because the people of ARC10, not matter who they follow, need to stay alive.
To my left, I notice the jagged protrusions of ARC10's bulkhead perfectly form a set of stairs. I balk. I'd never noticed them before, but have no time to wonder about the continuous anomalies of the ship. I climb them, ascending until I'm level with the platform. I aim and fire at one of her two combatants.
It clutches its neck, black, thick blood bubbling from its throat. The creature stumbles backward and falls into the marketplace, crushing another monster below it.
Avant snatches the opportunity to focus on her single opponent. She ducks behind her cover once more as its blast streaks past her head. Swiftly, she launches out and directs her kill-shot at the bull standing before her. When she swivels around to catch me and my smoldering handgun below, she grins and salutes before pivoting, disappearing from my line of sight.
I scan the crowd. There are no other VIPERs to free-up. The marketplace is littered with yak bodies, but more file-in from the north entrance. They carry limp bodies and toss them to a pile in the far northwest corner.
The people are alive. I can reach them, attempt to lead them to a safer place. I attempt to descend, but the jagged protrusions that were there before have disappeared.
"What the fuck." I'm stranded on an island high above the marketplace. Trapped here, I panic. Nothing has spotted me, but it will only be a matter of time.
I can't jump. If I did, I'd risk crashing onto my belly, killing my son on impact, or shattering my bones, and those were the obvious scenarios amid the thousands in which we both end up hurt or dead. I wipe my sweaty palms on my blood-soaked pants. All the stakes are too high these days.
Ready to launch myself into the horde of bulls, maybe grabbing the back of one to soften my fall, I'm spotted.
The creature aims at me.
Dead. I've nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
This is it.
I look down to reevaluate my jump.
To my shock, the steps reappear.
Perfect. I run, leaping the small distance across them. Enemy shots barely miss my back as I haul ass over the new protrusions when they emerge from the wall. For some odd reason, I trust them to be under me even if I can't see them ahead.
I'm descending, but I don't want to go down. I want to go up. I want to get away from the melee and scope out exactly what we're against.
I change direction. As soon as my mind thinks it, a step is under my boot. The shots miss my ankles by inches.
So there's no need to hesitate. I sprint as fast as I can, black metal sliding out to meet me as I run. From up here, when my head hits the ceiling of the three-story marketplace, I get the perfect aerial view of the disaster zone. I'm back to the exact spot where I found Warren Freyer behind the jelly hatch while we were still stuck on Earth.
But there's no door to slither through now.
Peering through the smoke rising from the burning barrels that haven't been filtered out through our vents, I catch a gathering of bulls, congregating below me.
I continue running the perimeter of the marketplace, shots hot on my tail until I reach the platform attached to the Nest. I land and reach the door that's been jammed open. Smoke fizzles from the broken terminals. Flatts' dried blood stains the floor, but her corpse is no longer there.
A dark gurgling erupts from my left. Two creatures approach on my right. My measly HEL-handgun would be as effective as pinpricks to my assailants. They're too big for hand-to-hand. They're too big for me to do anything in this state.
An idea strikes. It's insane, but if there was a perfect time for insanity, it'd be now.
Let's see how close the Xani are listening.
"Hey!" I scream into the Nest. "Disable artificial gravity mechanisms. Now."
The bulls don't pause. One lowers its head to line up with my shoulders. It charges.
Stupid idea. Stupid fucking idea. I need to run.
I back up and fumble with the opening of the door between the Nest and the marketplace platform when suddenly, the entire room is thrown into total blackness.
The yellow warning lights blink on and whirl. Alarms bellow. My stomach drops, flips, and churns as my mind somersaults. I keep backing up and put my full trust in ARC10.
I back into the balcony, climb up on the ledge of the railing, and leap into darkness, the horns of the creature snagging and tearing my shirt.
I freefall for a single second before my momentum toward the deck stops completely. Between the platform and the crowd of creatures ready to accept me into their clutches, I float.
"YES!" I close my eyes and punch the air. "Yes! Yes!" The Xani understand me.
My body spins in a slow circle as the other creatures, un-secured items, and bodies of unconscious civilians rise. I need to separate the cattle from the crew.
I tuck my knees into my chest as much as they will go, causing me to roll in a different direction. I spin, head over feet, and land against the canopy of one of the merchant booths. The draping catches the toe of my boot, so I latch on. Tearing the fabric, I wrap it around my ankle and wait for my first opponent.
One bull floats toward me as the others spiral, reaching for items to grab. Their clumsy, cumbersome bodies with scraggly manes floating around their heads, in front of their eyes, I immediately understand how these creatures were not meant for microgravity. They fumble with their weapons, unable to point or shoot. Even if they could, the kickback would be problematic.
The people who are still conscious attempt to fly from the marketplace.
The fire that was previously contained in the barrels floats through the air in enormous spheres. They create a deadly screen between me and the people.
One bull snarls as it launches off the wall toward my head. I grab it by the horns and use the leverage against the booth's roof to swing it around. The long, mangy fur on its legs catches some of the fire balls. I fling it away from me where it hits the ceiling with a crash.
I celebrate for just a second before I realize the fireballs are spreading. The people float closer to the flames. Cut the gravity. I need to get the flames and the people back under control.
Almost as quickly as the idea comes, I stomp it down. Once I initialize the artificial gravity, the creatures and the pile of unconscious people will all plummet to their deaths.
Just in time, Coodi appears. She seems to have already developed graceful control of her movements in microgravity.
She doesn't question why I'm out, but I see the flash of concern in her eyes before she schools her features and returns to her steely focus.
"I need you to wrangle the civilians and get them into the Nest. I'm going to re-start the artificial gravity and I don't want them all to free-fall from three stories up."
"Aye-aye, Commander." She pushes off and speeds to the northwest corner of the marketplace, careful to first secure the ones closest to the open flames. Reaching out, she grabs at anything and pushes them toward the platform. Some of the bulls notice her work and head her way.
I dig my fingers into the oily fur of one as it passes, clutching its hide and pulling down, I swing it back to the floor. The creature smashes to a corner, bellowing as it spins and crashes against the bulkhead.
I just need to give Coodi enough time to move the people to a safer place. She grabs them by their limbs and shoots off toward the Nest, her cargo in tow.
We're going to do it. We're going to get our ship back.
I face the open marketplace. Before I can react, a bull's enormous body collides with mine. My cloth tether breaks. I spin through the air and smack against the bulkhead on my side, my head bouncing off the wall.
The world goes black.