The Menagerie 2 (Eden) (14 page)

And then it gained its feet to its full height, searching its surroundings.

The area was dark and alien with the rib-like extensions from nearby walls glowing with the pace of a steady heartbeat, the light a phosphorous green.  

Stepping down from its enclosure it could smell scents not of its world.

And it knew that it was not on its planet.

Rearing back its bone-shaped skull and raising its arms high, the Hominid cried out with a savage scream that carried far and wide throughout the ship.

#

From the moment
of its origin it had three goals in life: to live, to grow, and to take new ground.

It had come from a primordial world at the farthest reaches of the Orion Belt, a gaseous planet whose environment was acidic and noxious. It was not driven by deductive reasoning or logic, nor was it directed by contemplating or assessing situations in its current surroundings. It was completely governed by its olfactory senses and sheer instinct.

On its world it had no enemies and no equals. It was wispy, not solid. It could be broken by strong winds only to coalesce back into a deadly whole. It could expand and contract, like gases can. And its vapor was as powerful as the most concentrated acid, the Mist having the ability to dissolve matter down to a single particle until that, too, became traceless.

It was hypnotically beautiful and poetic in motion, soft and wavy, always undulating in a mesmerizing way to entice its prey in the same manner that an angler fish draws its victim close by dangling a wormlike appendage on a baited hook. It pulls and draws—the bursts of beautiful light within the mass glowing and popping off in spangles, adding to the tow of its victim, forever drawing it close.

It was, by all creations, its own atmosphere capable of surviving anywhere, on any planet. It was also the perfect organism.

It had spread out from its container, slowly, its instinct telling it to be cautious. Misty tendrils reached beyond the energy fields, finding them gone. For more than sixty-four million years it lie in wait, the creature having no conscious understanding of patience or time. Since it had no organs, no central nervous system or skeletal matter, it could not be placed in stasis. It simply existed and nothing more.

When its misty tendrils reached out and lapped at the edges of the enclosure, the metal-like composite began to hiss and dissolve, the metal then dripping to the floor and cooling into an oily looking mass.

  It then began to spread outward, floating feet above the floor. The vaporous mass dilated and contracted, like flexing muscles, like spreading its wings. Diamond-shaped spangles of lights continued to pop off and on in concert, synapses of energy bursting and reshaping itself into other forms of natural electricity.

It meandered about, driven by the instinct to take new ground, to hunt and feed. As it explored its surroundings it discovered that it was hemmed in by a wall. At the base of that wall lay a small doorway, a passageway. And then it condensed into a small cloud, the vaporous mass becoming thicker and less translucent, the acidic cloud a deep purple. And then it passed through the opening seeking new territory.

#

On their world
they hunted in packs.

Standing six foot tall, the otherworldly raptors resembled the raptors of Earth with some adaptable differences which customized them to thrive on their planet. With a thinner tail that acted more as a whip than it did for balance, they stood more upright. Triangular ridges honed to a scalpel’s sharpness and having the strength and density of steel ran along its spinal column to the tip of its tail. It was also their primary weapon, the pyramidal-edges serving as a vicious cutting tool the moment the tail lashes out like a bullwhip.

They were intelligent and social creatures, communicating through snorts and bellows through the hollows of their nasal passages. Two of the raptors would drive the prey forward, to an awaiting pack, with their tails whipping gracefully about like the line of a fly fisherman, each driving the quarry into another raptor’s strike zone. The tail would then snap outward and strike the target across the throat or abdomen, the sharp ridges slicing and eviscerating the victim with surgical precision before it even hit the ground. It was usually a merciful kill.

But there were only two, a male and its mate, a female that was by genetics slightly larger than its counterpart.

They had been in a field of tall grass where they were driving a planetary bull—a  creature as large as a rhinoceros and a hide just as thick—that was determined to seek refuge, knowing that the much smaller raptor was far quicker and deadlier.

It rushed its way through the field creating a swath, the trailing raptors blowing signals through their nasal passages alerting the pack ahead.

And then a brilliant flash of light, the field disappearing, the world suddenly cast in astonishing whiteness.

And then came the moment where they found themselves within the confines of an unguarded chamber. In their minds, the concept of measure between then and now was less than a microcosm of time, a moment much quicker than a blink of an eye. They were confused, their olfactory senses trying to make sense of surroundings that was suddenly alien. And then they snorted through their sinus channels trying to reach out to others of their kind, only to be met with silence.

They cried out again, this time louder, their sinus cavities trumpeting a signal synonymous to a cry of help.

They moved in circles with heads craning, their sinus canals trumpeting. No matter the angle taken, there were no return volleys, no calls of salvation. They were alone.

With the ability to scent prey that was a thousand times greater than a shark, which could detect a single drop of blood from a half mile away, they could smell noxious fumes and toxic ammonia, areas to stay clear from. But above it all and somewhere close, something was bleeding. 

Together, the raptors headed toward the source of its bounty.

#

Like the raptors,
the creature within the tallest bin was from the same world where the gaseous components resembled Earth’s but not quite spot on. The measures of oxygen to nitrogen were slightly different; they were higher, with the degree of carbon dioxide marginally lower.

But on this ship it would thrive.

And as it did on its planet with the raptors, it would share supremacy.

It resembled the Tyrannosaurus Rex. But it was larger and more muscular, about sixty feet in length, with a jaw that extended further toward the rear of its skull for greater extension of a mouth that sported pick-like teeth that were wicked and keen. Unlike Earth’s version, this Rex-like creature sported extended arms with musculature. And its tail, like its raptor cousin, bore rows of sharp edges geared for slicing and cutting.

Its last memory before the coming of the light was that it was attacking a crablike creature with its tail smashing the shell until meat finally bled through the cracks of its armor. The lizard then clamped its powerful jaws around its armor-plated collar, wrestled it to the ground, pinned it by a massive leg, and then wrenched the creature’s neck with an audible crack, killing it.

As it pulled out the final strand of innards, the nebulous white light consumed everything.

And then it was here, its mind processing confusion. One moment it was feasting. The next it found itself on a world not of its own. It was enclosed in a massive pen. And then its senses picked up marginal differences in atmosphere, confirming this to be a place of unfamiliarity.

With heightened senses of sight, sound and smell, the Rex stepped off the rise of the enclosure and to the floor, the ground shaking beneath its massive weight.

Its head was on a swivel, noting the rib-like structures of the walls glowing. Driven by instinct it went to the ribs, its mind recognizing the structure as the design of food, the remnants of a carcass.

The earth shook beneath its footfalls as it closed in and sniffed at the ship’s ribbing, sensing nothing. And then it wandered onto center stage where it was surrounded by enclosures that bore carcasses of alien dead. 

Rearing its head back, the creature let out a bellow that shook the foundations of the ship.

It was letting everything onboard know that it was the ruler of its domain.  

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“What the hell was that?” asked Whitaker. He immediately went on the lip mike to K-Clown. “Yo, Clown.”

There was a brief moment of static. “
Go
.”

“What the hell was that noise?”

“
You got me
,” he said. “
But whatever it is, it’s close. All I know is that it came from the Menagerie’s north end.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“
I’m with Quasimodo at the south end of the Menagerie
,” he answered. “
You want me to check out the noise?”

“Where’s the rest of the team?”

“
I’m not getting an answer from Madman
,” he returned. “
Crazy Drake was at the Menagerie’s north end, at the source of the sound.”

“Copy that.”

“
Hey, Cap
?”

“Go.”

“These bins are wide open. There’re no more containment fields holding back the creatures. There’re bodies everywhere.”

“Come again.”

“The containment fields to the enclosures are down. The energy is gone.”

“What about the engineers?”

“
Who knows?”

“Copy that.” Whitaker turned to Goliath and Maestro, then to O’Connell and Savage, and finally to Alyssa, all of them struggling to control what they were thinking at the moment. The fields were down. The enclosures left wide open.

And a single thought came to Whitaker:
these beings are on an evolutionary scale to us as we are to the amoeba. Who knows what their technology can do?

Whitaker immediately keyed into another frequency. “TW One to TW Six. Come in TW Six.” TW Six was Crazy Drake. When there was no response he attempted a second try. “TW One to TW Six. Come in TW Six.”

#

“TW One to
TW Six. Come in TW Six.”
Crazy Drake recognized Whitaker’s voice through his earpiece. But Crazy Drake remained quiet, the soldier hunkering down behind the pedestal rise of an enclosure. Heaped on the floor was an arachnid-like creature with compound eyes, dead and stinking of musk.

“TW One to TW Six. Come in TW Six.”

Crazy Drake had been frightened before. But this was different.

He remained quiet and unmoving. His hands shaking uncontrollably as his weapon seemed to vibrate within his grasp.

When the energy shut down so did the containment fields, causing corpses to spill out at his feet.

But not all the creatures died.

The Rex maneuvered about, searching, its nostrils visibly flaring as they caught different scents to process, the world beneath its footfalls shaking. What Crazy Drake didn’t know was that the evolution of this particular creature was far superior to man, its senses highly evolved and sensitive. From a distance of a mile, and in some cases much farther, the Rex, through small openings on each side of its head that leads into the 
inner ear
s through thin channels, there are vibration- and sound-detecting organs grouped together as an acoustico-lateralis system which can sense the rapid heartbeat of something alive amongst the myriad of dead. And coupled with electroreception, the capability to detect electric fields that prey produces, it could hone into its impulses like radar.

Crazy Drake closed his eyes and gripped his weapon hard, willing the creature away.

He could hear it sniffing the air, could feel the tremor of the floor beneath him as the creature took calculating steps that seemed to draw nearer.

“TW One to TW Six. Come in TW Six.”

Crazy Drake whispered into his lip mike, but it was barely audible. “TW Six. Go.”

“What’s your twenty, Six?”

The Rex’s footfalls were becoming noticeable, the tremors more conspicuous. It was coming closer.

“TW One. I say Red Zone,” he whispered. “I repeat: I say Red Zone.”

“Come again, Six?”

Crazy Drake dared not speak any louder. “Whit, some of these things are alive,” he finally said, the radio code and discipline summarily dismissed. “You hear me, Whit? Some of these things are—”

The head of the Rex was block-like and massive, its walnut-sized eyes looking down at Crazy Drake with its jaws widening to showcase its razor-sharp teeth. Thin strands of saliva strung as viscous webbing from upper to lower jaw. And its head leaned forward and downward, looming larger in the eyes of Crazy Drake.

The commando raised his weapon and cried out as bullets strafed the creature, confusing it, the ammo punching its hide but causing minimal damage.

And then there was silence.

No screams.

No firefight.

Nothing.

#

Whitaker, as well
as Goliath and Maestro, could hear the cries of Crazy Drake and the subsequent gunfire over their earpieces, which was soon followed by an eerie silence.

“He’s gone,” Maestro stated flatly.

Whitaker cupped his hand around his lip mike. “Crazy! CRAZY!”

“He’s gone, Cap.”

Whitaker stared straight ahead with detachment.

“He said that they were alive,” added Maestro

“I know what he said.” Whitaker took a few steps forward, his eyes staring at nothing in particular.

“Cap.”

Whitaker held his hand up as a gesture for everyone to remain silent. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke into his mike. “K-Clown?”

“Yeah, boss.”