Past Dark

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 32876 Terran Expedition: Australia

Brock pointed the alien gun at one of the attackers. There wasn't a trigger in the usual position, but there was a lever on the side, just above his thumb. He flicked it, and the gun jerked in his hand with a sizzling crack. The shot caught the alien in his thin chest and burned its way right through before it hit the wall on the other side. The spot glowed red and melted.

The remaining alien screeched and jumped toward the door. Before it reached it, the arms spread, and the wings swept down. It flew out of view into the workshop.

Flying aliens? Something like a bat, except nearly human-sized. He'd seen a lot since leaving Seabrook, but that was new.

Brock kept the weapon. Constantine would want to see it, but first, he had to catch that last alien. No telling what damage it could do on the Australia if he let it get away.

For just a second he hesitated, looking back at the hangar where the woman had been with the big alien.

One of them had yelled his name.

The alien was apparently a friendly, but with enough bulk and teeth that it could have been terrifying. He'd never seen anything like the orange and black alien. He'd picked up rumors that they had brought someone on board, but no one was talking. In any case, the woman and the alien had helped the crew members through into the hanger. That was as good a place as any for them right now. How they knew his name? That had to wait.

Brock walked up to the workshop doorway and went through low in case the alien tried to ambush him.

No shots fired. The lights were out, and the space was dark. This was the last of several connected workshops, all making a grid of chambers. The alien could have gone any direction it wanted.

Taking shelter behind one of the solid workstations, Brock called it in.

“Operations, Marsden. Come in.”

“Operations, report Marsden.” The operations voice was female. He didn't recognize it. They'd called everyone in—before the attack started. How had they known?

“Four aliens.” He sent the coordinates. The Australia was a big ship, easy to get lost if you weren't precise. “Three down, I'm in pursuit of the fourth, but a hand would be nice. Can you get any readings on the invader?”

“Negative. They are interfering with our systems.”

“Understood. I will locate it the hard way.”

“Negative, Marsden. Hold your position.”

“Hold? Operations, confirm.”

“Confirmed. Hold your position. Await orders. Operations out.”

“Acknowledged. Marsden Out.”

Brock ended the call. Constantine had to have a plan. They'd known about the attack before it happened. There wasn't any other explanation for the deployment around key areas of the ship only moments before the attack started. He’d been around enough not to believe it was all a coincidence. No idea how the security chief had warning. That didn't always get shared.

It was certainly different working for the company. The Terran Explorations company, but everyone just called it the company. It wasn’t even that simple, because each expedition was its own nested series of corporations.

Brock peered into the darkness and couldn't see anything with the lights off. It suggested that these aliens could see in the dark, maybe using infrared to see. He didn't have the augmentations that the Martian colonists had or even the gene-mod changes that you saw in the rich families like Blackstone's, he was just human. He'd gotten off Seabrook, spent time on Mars, and had signed up with the Australia Expedition. Why not? A chance to see an unknown alien world sounded like a great opportunity.

Maybe he would have been better off staying on Mars, except it was all so closed in. Not much different than living on a ship, and he had been on plenty of those. If he was going to live in a contained environment, it might as well be going someplace. And Cyeechie, an Earth-like world in orbit around a gas giant, sounded too good to pass up. That, and he hadn’t really fit in on Mars. Too tall for one thing.

A door hissed as it opened. And then closed. The alien coming back?

Brock held the alien weapon ready and did his best to breath quietly.

It might have doubled back around. Or maybe Constantine had sent other security officers in to flush it out. It might have been cut off, maybe they were trying to capture it. Questioning the alien might be difficult, but there was a lot that they could learn just from studying one. Maybe figure out why they had attacked.

Metal clanked against metal.

Then laughter floated through the workshop. It was high, childish laughter, with a mocking edge and a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. What was that?

Maybe he was misjudging it, but it sounded demented. It was possible that it wasn't laughter at all. Maybe that was cries of fear or shouts of anger? Who knew?

Did it see him?

Brock resisted the urge to move. He tried not to make any sound, hardly breathing at all. He listened for any noises.

A hissing intake of breath, behind, above to the right. The same sort of sound someone would make if surprised.

Brock rolled away from the worktable. A sizzling crack echoed in the room, and a molten shot sparked against the metal side of the table. Droplets hissed and rained down on the floor.

He lifted the alien gun and flicked the trigger switch. It jerked in his hand, and the projectile was like a bright streak on his vision. For an instant, he saw the figure clinging to the ceiling panels, upside down, by its feet of all things.

He fired again, but the shot just burned a hole in the ceiling panel, which dripped more molten metal down on the counters below. The alien had moved, fast and quietly.

Then, before the glow from his last shot had faded entirely, the alien sprang at him through the air from several feet away. Brock jumped back toward the door and fired again.

Faster than he would have thought possible, the alien twisted in the air, and the shot missed by a wide margin. The shot hit the wall and added another dull ember.

As the alien landed on the worktable, Brock raised the splat gun in his other hand and fired. The shot caught the smaller alien in the shoulder and flipped it back off the table. He moved quickly, eyes straining to see, around the table.

Just as he got there, the lights came back on. Brock blinked, shielded his eyes as they struggled to adjust. The rear workshop doors opened, and a security squad poured into the room with splat guns ready. The alien was still on the floor where it had fallen, it wasn’t moving. He pointed both weapons at the alien and moved closer.

It lay on the floor, almost child-like in its size, covered in a tight black suit. A dark smooth helmet covered the head, hiding its features. Between the arms and legs, the suit formed broad wings that stretched out bat-like. Was that simply the suit, or did the alien actually have a wing beneath the fabric? The shoulder was bloodied where his shot had caught it.

The security squad reached him, with Craig Dustin leading. Derek Constantine’s lieutenant and second in charge. Good-looking, in a boyish, dimpled way that he used to his advantage. Not that he wasn’t capable, Brock had sparred with him in workouts and wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating Dustin. With a quick gesture, Dustin had the team fan out around the alien. They all moved to positions, while Dustin trained his weapon on the alien. He grinned at Brock.

“Is it alone?”

Brock shook his head. “I took care of the others, out in the corridor.”

That earned him a nod. “Is it alive?”

The wing twitched and everyone tensed.

“I think so,” Brock said. “My last shot hit it in the shoulder.”

“Vicious little buggers,” Dustin said. “They hit the ship at a half-dozen points. If Constantine hadn't deployed us in that drill, they could have gotten a beachhead.”

Drill, was it now? Maybe, but Brock still figured that Constantine had warning somehow. Behind Dustin was Sonya Liamson, an excellent poker player, and right now she had the same expressionless look she had at the table. She also had quick ties on her belt.

Brock caught her eye. “Liamson, mind securing the prisoner?”

Dustin moved back to give her space. She didn't hesitate. She moved quickly to the fallen alien and dropped a knee into his back.

The alien bucked and screeched. Apparently, it'd been faking unconsciousness. Liamson swore and grabbed its good arm. She pulled, and it jerked its arm. Just that, and it threw her off. She rolled.

It was starting to get up when Dustin stomped down on the wounded shoulder. The alien screamed behind its helmet and collapsed.

Liamson threw herself back onto the alien, wrestled its good arm around. The wings continued out past the small hand and made it a challenge to get its arm around its back. The way it bucked and screeched, it probably didn’t feel good. Liamson managed anyway and secured its arms.

The alien hissed and growled behind the helmet.

“Let's see what these buggers look like,” Dustin said.

He holstered his weapon, then bent down and examined the helmet.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” Brock said. Although the suit was already punctured, it might be getting supplemental air through the helmet.

“I want to see.” Dustin found a catch and flipped it.

The helmet unsealed around the neck, and a fine seam appeared in the smooth material. It split in half beneath Dustin's hands. He pulled it free.

Screeching, the alien closed its black eyes and tried to turn its face away, squinting against the light. Blood stained the wrinkled black skin, but the fleshy wrinkles around the pit that was its nose flared with rapid breaths in and out. As it screeched it revealed sharp teeth behind the wrinkled lips. Big ears pressed flat back against its long skull.

“It's a freaking bat!” Liamson said.

“Not really,” Brock said, but he saw what she meant. The alien really did look very much like a giant bat. Plus it had the whole bat wings going for it. Giant alien bats, he’d seen a lot, but that was a first.

Dustin stood up, holding the helmet. “I'll bet the science geeks are going to love getting their hands on this. It's uglier than the other alien.”

“Other one?” Brock said.

Dustin nodded. “Big thing, orange, and black. It got out in the confusion. It's responsible for Helen Shaw's death. It was with a woman, but I guess she wasn't entirely human either. Maybe they were working with these bat-things. Might be why they attacked.”

So, the rumors were true, at least in part.

“You see anything like that?” Dustin said.

Brock shook his head. The gesture was automatic. The woman and the alien had recognized him, he was sure of that much. They had tried to help the crew, and right now he knew there were secrets on the Australia. Until he knew why the woman and alien had recognized him—he knew he hadn’t ever seen either of them—he wasn’t going give them away. He wanted answers first, and if he gave them up now the chance of that decreased substantially.