The Black Seas of Infinity (37 page)

Frantically, I claw at the surface. My
fingers slip, my momentum now working against me as I drift away. I
tear at the shell with my hands, trying to grasp something, my arms
fully extended in a futile effort to locate a handhold. A finger
manages to curl into a torn gash, and I pull myself forward.
Drawing in closer, I punch a few more fingers into the shell,
steady my grip, and begin wailing on the surface with my fist.

It’s bizarre. I’m pounding away like a
madman, and yet in the void there is only deadly silence. The hull
splinters, a gaping chunk plunging noiselessly in. The cracks must
have depleted all the air, as the clod of hull bounces soundlessly
across the floor below and drifts out of sight. I pull myself in.
Sailing down to the floor, I rebound slightly, rising up a few
inches and remaining suspended in midair. Only there is no air. And
no noise.

Spiraling around, I find I’m in a narrow
corridor. A dim glow emanates from the end of the hall. The ship
must not be totally dead. I swim down the corridor toward the front
of the ship. The passageway grows darker still as I float under the
unbroken stretch of ceiling. I notice that the walls are a sickly
olive green. It’s hard to tell in the gloom, but the surfaces look
like they are mottled with the stringy tendrils of veins.

The corridor brightens slightly as it opens
up into a large, semicircular space. This must be the front of the
ship. Three raised stumps, the sides entangled in interweaving
cables, spread out in a semicircle. The tops are a mass of bumps,
sheltered under a transparent curved shield. Each pedestal is
fronted by the featureless shell of a chair, the bottom woven into
the floor in a tangled mass of tubes. Drifting closer, I notice
each harbors a slumped life form, the body held in place by
leathery straps. They all resemble my previous captors, outfitted
in similar, if slightly stockier, deep space suits.

There are no visible marks on the bodies. I
glide in closer and grasp the edges of a helmet. I gently turn, and
it starts to lift, the seams at the neck snapping open. A milky
yellowish-green substance floats out. I’m startled for a moment and
pull away from the helmet, the stream of fluid trailing out after
me as I drift away.

I see no need to examine alien remains. I
turn to view the front of the room. Looking down, I see a large,
roughly oval screen at the base of the nose, a static streaked view
of the outside still visible. It looks like it was probably
suspended in midair until the main power went out. Now it rests in
a crooked slouch against the front wall. The image on the screen
skips, but evidently it’s a frontal view. Occupying most of the
screen is what apparently is the back end of the wormhole. Murkier
and far less elegant, the fissure is a smaller gulf, encircled by a
revolving husk of brown haze. The lifeless shell of my ship drifts
off to the left. Two blips appear in the wormhole. They grow bigger
as they approach, maturing into two ships, and headed for the craft
I came from. They appear to be Al’lak. The sides start to glow, and
bursts of plasma spew out. A minute later, the screen bleaches
out.

The light fades, and a darker image of space
fills the screen. My exploratory craft is nowhere to be seen.
Here’s an interesting development. The Al’lak ships turn and start
heading toward me. One disappears from view, followed almost
immediately by a violent jarring of the room. The force throws me
into the back wall. I bounce off and fly forward into the chair,
rebounding yet again as I sail upwards. Flailing my arms, I manage
to break the trajectory and swim toward the ceiling. Grabbing hold
of a loop of cable, I curl up and wait.

After a few minutes, a figure in a silver
suit slowly floats down into the room, a dual-cylindered pack
strapped to his back. It continually releases small bursts of
translucent material from its bottom vents. That would probably be
his source of propulsion. The helmet slowly rotates from right to
left, scanning the premises. A small, tubular device rests in the
creature’s right hand. And that would probably be his weapon.

He drifts over and examines the closest dead
pilot, the one whose helmet I cracked open. A slimy cloud,
resembling yellowish mucus, orbits the head. The Al’lak turns its
attention to the one in the center and drifts toward it. Another
similar figure floats down into the chamber, followed by a third. I
wait until the last one is directly below me before pushing off and
swimming toward it. The creature looks up a moment too late. My
fist plunges through the brittle helmet, my fingers bursting out
the back in a slimy sheen of gore. I splay my hand on its chest and
pull, my fist rupturing out is a spray of green slime. A blinding
flash flares up on my left, and I’m thrown into the wall. The two
suited creatures are facing me and pointing their weapons in my
direction. I notice that the Al’lak I just slaughtered is holding a
familiar tube in his stiff death grip. I lunge for it. Just as my
fingers close around the weapon, I’m slammed backwards into the
wall by another burst. Glancing down, I see the tube in my palm,
the rigid fingers of the dead alien still gripping it. Globs of
fluid float out of the severed wrist, freezing almost instantly as
they hit the vacuum into a glittering string. Another burst of
light envelopes me, and I will the cylinder to fire. The upper
right quarter of one of the aliens disappears. Light envelopes me
again. As it fades, I look down and see my hand cupped in an empty
embrace. I vault at the remaining Al’lak, trying to spin
ferociously in midair. Something catches my foot, throwing me into
a spin. I whip my arms wildly in an attempt at propulsion. My hand
grabs a corner of railing and I swing down, trying to land a punch
on the creature. I’m not quite close enough, and it slides off the
helmet in a glancing blow. The alien flies back, his form careening
wildly as he does. The helmet is dented, and he appears stunned. I
swim forward, arc back, and punch. A slushy crunch, and my fist
sails through his head. Pulling my hand free, the limp corpse
floats backwards in a trail of drifting slime.

I peddle back into the shadows and wait for
more. A few minutes pass, and nothing moves. The cabin is deathly
still, the hovering cadavers floating in silence, a trail of ooze
coiling out behind them. I should leave before reinforcements
arrive. Twisting toward the recessed corridor, I start
swimming.

The passageway is longer than I thought and
dimly lit. Whatever the point of entry, I can’t see it. I round a
few bends and start to wonder if I’m still in the same corridor.
There is no way this ship can be that big. I can’t see anything in
all this blackness. I keep swimming forward, trying to stay along
the wall. It abruptly disappears on the left, and I backpedal,
slowing myself to a stop. Grasping the smooth edge, I peer around
the corner. Nothing. A faded glow illuminates a curving passage of
molten olive walls and smooth black flooring. I swim down it
slowly, passing through a faintly illuminated stretch—from what
light source I have no idea— and into another darkened recess. I
strain my eyes and barely make out a curved wall. This is
apparently a dead end. I glance up and notice a ribbed, tubular
tunnel extending a few feet. It ends with what appears to be a
circular hatch. The contours are foggy in the low light, but it’s
clear the tube is sealed off with something. I crouch down, tuck in
my head, and leap straight up.

I collide roughly with the barrier, the force
throwing me back down to the floor. I rebound, floating halfway up
the overhead tunnel. Well, that got me nowhere. I don’t think I can
muster nearly enough inertia. Swimming farther up, I brace my arms
against the narrow walls and kick the hatch with my feet. The force
shoves me back, my arms raking trenches down the walls as I’m
shoved backwards. I pull my arms in and swim back up. Positioning
myself again, I kick the portal even harder. I’m shoved backwards
again, but the gateway gives a little. This is going to be a
tedious process.

It takes a good ten tries, but on the last
kick, the cover flies up, splintering into sharp fragments as it
relinquishes its hold. A grimy smog gushes out, a pale yellow light
filtering through the haze. I swim up, drifting through the murk
and into a featureless, circular room. The texture of the walls
looks Al’lak, the floor marbled in a white-on-black pattern that is
all too familiar. That’s strange. A weak gravity pulls me down,
planting my feet on the ground.

The chamber harbors one circular doorway
directly opposite me. As I slowly approach it, the curved segments
spiral open, the gateway unfurling to reveal an Al’lak. He holds
aloft a small silvery tube, pointed directly at me. The tip glows
to life, and a blast of energy slams into my shoulder. I’m knocked
back, the weak gravity accelerating my retreat. I run at my
assailant. A second blast hits me in the thigh, flipping me over in
a slow motion back flip. The side of my head crashes into the
floor. Were I still human, the impact would have snapped my neck.
But as it is it just pissed me off. I crawl to my feet and lunge
for the creature, a further blast slapping my shoulder blade. My
face bounces off the floor again. I drag my head upright mere
inches from the Al’lak. He starts to back off in panic, and I fling
out my arm in an attempt to grab him. My hand closes around his
ankle, and I yank backwards, wrenching him from his feet and into a
clumsy tumble. He paws at the ground, trying to get away, but the
little sucker is mine now! I haul him in, inch by inch, until he is
almost under me. Then I release him. He scuffles to his feet, and
just as he is about to dart forward, I vigorously swat the back of
his helmet. He flies forward, bashing into the wall with a
satisfying crunch. The limp body falls backwards in slow motion, a
string of yellowish ooze trailing through the air behind. I step
around the dead creature, snatching the weapon out of his stiff
fingers as I pass, and enter the room beyond.

I recognize this ship. It’s almost a twin of
the vessel I flew out of that hidden base. The interior looks a
little sleeker—probably a newer model, but it might function just
the same. Climbing into the cockpit, I take a seat, delve my
fingers into the gelatinous controls, and instruct it to move
forward. The craft responds sluggishly, as if some brake is on.
Does it even have a brake? It’s still tethered to the vehicle
below! I’m an idiot! That explains a whole hell of a lot! How do I
break the connection?

The air shimmers in a faint ripple to my
right, and in a twinkling glow two Al’laks appear, looking way more
surprised than me. I point the weapon at them and fire two shots.
One loses a hand, the other half of its helmet. Streams of fluid
drift out of both new ruptures, freezing into crystalline globs
almost instantly. This ship was probably much warmer, until I broke
into it. I didn’t realize I’d affected the temperature so much
until now. It’s probably been dropping ever since I broke in. My
concentration momentarily drifts, and I spring back into the
present only after realizing that one of the Al’lak isn’t dead. I
didn’t hit the hand with the weapon in it, and even now he’s
pointing it at me! Too late to move, I’m thrown out of the chair
and into the far wall. I snap back with a flurry of blasts, this
time destroying an entire arm in a ball of fire. I discharge
another round, and the head dissolves. I sit for a moment, running
scenarios through my head.

How are they getting in here?

Do they have some mother ship in close
proximity?

Whatever the case, my best bet is to get out
of here, stat!

Climbing back into the control chair, I twist
my fingers around in the viscous depression, trying desperately to
figure out what function releases the ship below. Red symbols
resembling hieroglyphs scroll across the screen. I can’t read any
of them. For all I know I’m opening and closing hatches, flicking
through lights, and doing who knows what else to the engine. A
symbol on the lower left flashes red, I feel a slight vibration,
and the starry view through the screen starts to slide downwards. I
must have released the ship below! I twist my fingers and steer
upwards. The wormhole comes into view, and I head for it.

“Who is this?”

The voice booms in my head, the sound
deafening. The other ship must be trying to communicate! I keep
flying straight for the vortex. A ball of plasma slides by,
starting as a distant glow on my side screen and progressing into a
blinding inferno as it passes. They’re apparently firing at me.
That was quick! I start zigzagging my path. Seething firestorms of
energy open up all around as the beckoning white tendrils of the
wormhole start to encompass me. I’m very close now! Twisting my
hand like mad in the gel, I try to operate the rear cannons. The
craft twists and rotates, my frenzied dabbling feeding a wealth of
conflicting instructions. Suddenly, flashes of light emit from my
hindquarters. Catching the pursuing ship by surprise, the blast
shears off the left wing, throwing the ship into a spin. I delve
into the eye of the wormhole. A red symbol on the lower edge of the
screen starts flashing. I glance at it, and the projection changes
views. I now see the broken hatch I entered through. It’s a gaping
hole, and somehow it’s affecting the integrity of the ship. The
edges around the rupture start to peel back. Fuck! I wildly
manipulate the controls. The projection flashes through various
views, behind the ship, beside, in front. It’s all a swirling,
milky vortex. I can’t tell what is up and what is down. The view
settles on the open breach again. Now it’s a steadily widening
fissure, the skin peeling back like a melon. The projection wavers,
deteriorating into lines of static. Then everything goes to hell.
The surrounding walls swell, groaning with the stress. With a
piercing rip they pull apart, the jagged scraps spiraling outwards.
The pieces of machinery cleave apart, their gored innards pouring
out in an unsettling monstrosity of veins and sinew. Rupturing
scraps whip around me. I huddle forward in my seat. A mammoth chunk
cracks me in the forehead, throwing me back. The floor pulls away
beneath me, the restraining straps finally giving way as the chair
surrenders me to the storm. A squall of flailing wind and battering
debris, and I’m cast out into a void of absolute silence.