The Dance Eternal

19 and 20

19

After John left to get cleaned up, Steve made his way down to the cavern to see how things were progressing, quickly finding Sam in the process of directing a group of workers.

“… and see about getting those online. Should be pretty quick.”

Two of the workers nodded and left, heading toward another group near the ship’s shroud. One of the others in waiting started to speak when Sam noticed Steve, and held up a hand, saying gently, “One moment, please.”

The other nodded as Sam went to his friend, grinning, “Steve, she’s almost ready.”

Steve thought he heard the clacking of the lift, but dismissed it as he said, “That’s good news, and we need some of that. Any more ‘improvements’?”

“I gotta admit,” Sam said, “I am impressed. She hasn’t seemed to stop improving. She’s whittled-down on her basic programming to the point that it’s using almost none of her system’s resources.”

Steve beamed, and when he spoke, it was with admiration, “She’s done it.”

“Done… what exactly?”

“She’s turned her basic programming into ‘natural function’.”

“Natural function? How is that possible?”

Steve grinned wistfully, “Craig used to talk about it a lot. He believed that an AI, given the time and proper setting, could reduce core programming to the level of ‘natural function’.” Steve gave his usual quote motion here, then, “The way he explained it, it would be on the same level as breathing or blinking for humans, things that we do without thinking about it first.”

Sam nodded his understanding, “Craig was something else, man. I’m sorry.”

Steve waved a dismissal, giving a small smile, “It’s okay, Sam.” He heard the clacking again, and could tell that it indeed was the lift just settling to a stop at the bottom. The gate was thrown open from the inside, the metal clatter ringing throughout the cavern, and Leslie rushed out, looking frantic with her dark hair in a messy bun. She glanced around a moment until she spotted Steve, and bounded over.

“Sorry,” she panted as she pulled up in front of him and put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, “… radio from… gates…” she paused, closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath while holding her hands in front of her like she was motioning at someone to stop.

She opened her eyes, outwardly more composed, and tried again, “Got an emergency call from one of the perimeter patrols – they were at the main gate. They only found one of the guards, and he was… dead,” the look in her eyes said she’d heard more, but did not want to say it. Instead, “By their estimation, it happened about a half-hour ago, but it was definitely…” she cleared her throat, “… them.”

The word caused a shudder and numerous gasps to ripple through those nearby, including Steve. He glanced at those gathered around him, at their faces painted with fear and uncertainty, until he finally met Leslie’s eyes. His heart lifted, then sank, knowing what might happen to her, but she’d made her choice – her conviction was one of the things he really liked about her. “Have you heard from the guard with the settlement outside?”

She shook her head, causing the elastic band holding her hair to slip, and the bun to half-unravel. She jerked a hand over her shoulder and pulled at the band, snapping numerous strands of her hair in the process, until it was free, and said, “Nothing at all, and that’s worrisome.”

“Agreed,” said Steve, “I assume Jordan is still covering the radio.” When she nodded, he continued, “Head back and help him out – he seems pretty composed, but just in case.” He turned to Samuell, “Keep things going down here, and get the crew ready. We launch tonight, as soon as possible.”

Sam nodded, “Got it.”

Leslie asked, concerned, “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to head up and see if the settlement is okay. I know some of them have weapons, but if it’s the creatures, then it may be useless.”

“Be careful, Steve. This isn’t good.”

“I know it isn’t,” he said, kissing her before heading to the lift.

Twenty minutes later, he’d gathered most of the soldiers on duty inside the facility, and they were busy checking their gear in the entry garage, which was large enough to park six transport trucks comfortably side-by-side – there were two, one backed into the spaces at each end of the parking row. Between the trucks sat several large metal shipping containers, some stacked two-high, and a few were open to the back of the garage.

The pair of men who had been on guard at the doors were recounting the last few minutes before Steve's arrival with the reinforcements.

“We heard the banging and yelling, and could see them in the cameras, but we could also see all of the creatures out there, too. As slow as that door is, and the fact that it has to complete the opening cycle before it can be re-closed, we made – well, I made the decision to not open the doors.” He looked at his feet, feeling shame for his decision despite the justification. “I'm sorry, sir. I let them die.”

Steve put his hand on the soldier's shoulder, “It's okay, man. It's a good thing to feel that remorse – it helps you remember your humanity. Just don't let it destroy you. You had to make a choice, not just for you, but for all of us. I don't blame you.” The young soldier nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“You didn't hear them screaming, Mr. Haverstad,” the soldier said flatly, and Steve nodded, pulling his hand away.

“What was that,” one of the soldiers suddenly asked, and the room filled with the click-clack of guns being c****d and readied. They all then heard a loud thump against the outer doors. The metal of the doors, nearly three feet above the floor, began to creak and glow as if by extreme heat, and the men all backed away a few paces.

The glow spread, then the effected area simply melted away, spreading out like lava and cooling almost instantly. Just outside was a line, a dozen or more across, of the creatures, those recently converted not even recognizable as their former hosts.

“Oh, s**t, it’s them.” The statement rippled quietly through the ranks, and drifted over Steve as he watched the line start its advance. The lieutenant in charge of the group began barking orders to get the men composed, and they scattered to various points of cover. Steve shuffled with a pair of grunts and ducked behind the nearest container, the soldiers taking defensive positions at either end.

The lieutenant joined them in a moment, and everyone peered around corners, watching in horror as the first couple beings passed through the “door” they made, and across still cooling pools of molten steel.

“Open fire!”

The soldiers wasted no time obeying the order, and the chamber was suddenly filled with the staccato barking of assault rifles spewing hot leaden hail at the things. Bullets tore through them, sending splatters of their coating-goo in a near-rain around them. Still, they came, barely hindered by penetration of bullets, even the loss of limbs. The creatures began to spread out inside the chamber, homing in on the soldiers at their positions. As two angled toward Steve and company, the lieutenant grabbed him by the shoulder.

“You need to get inside and warn the rest, now! We’ll hold them as long as possible; if it starts looking too badly, we’ll block the way as a last resort. Now, go!” Steve shared one last knowing and grateful look with the other man; he nodded in response, then shoved Steve toward the doors that led deeper into the facility.

“Move, stay out of range,” the lieutenant shouted, and the men began to run-and-gun; they ducked under and climbed over the containers and trucks while shooting when they had a clear chance. A grenade popped right at the “foot” of one of the things, and it flew apart, one of its appendages landing with a messy splat a few feet from where the lieutenant and several others had managed to regroup.

Two men screamed from across the room, trapped by three of the creatures, while another howled from the other side. The lead grunt opened his pack and pulled out three blocks of C-4 explosive, shoved the detonators in, and set the timers for ten seconds.

“Sir, that’s not enough time- “

“Time for what, soldier? You know how to beat these things? You’ve got a choice, now, soldier; you can try to make it past those things, and maybe live another day as a coward, or you can probably die here, but die as a warrior. It’s grim, but it’s reality, now.”

The soldier nodded after a moment, then took one of the blocks, “Where do you want it, sir?”

“Good man. These are going around the entrance. Hopefully it will keep those things out. Plant ‘em now, son.”

The soldier scrabbled out of their cover and headed for the door that led further in, while the others began shooting any of the things in sight. He skidded, almost running onto one that had been about to flank the group. He shouted a warning to the others and angled around, ducking a swipe from one of its appendages, twisting into a roll and coming up in a crouch. He stood and dashed the last few feet to the doorway and slapped the explosives onto the door frame, jumping to get the third on the top. He took a deep breath, saw the lieutenant looking at him and nodded, then saluted. The man offered a slow, honored salute in return, and he turned, flicked the switches on the sides, then hopped again to catch the one overhead. When he landed, he spun to face the creature he had just evaded, aggressively thrust out both middle fingers, and yelled, “f**k YOU!”

The C-4 exploded, incinerating the defiant soldier and causing the entrance to cave in, closing the rest of the facility off. The lieutenant, laying against one of the trucks where he landed when the blast had thrown him and left his legs and back broken to splinters, looked at the pile that covered the doors, and coughed, “Good show, warrior.”

One of the beings approached, and he pulled a grenade from his belt, adjusted the fuse to 'zero'. He pulled the pin and flicked it at the thing, “Got something for you, asshole.” It stopped next to him, leaning forward slightly as if examining him, and he let the trigger handle fly away. The grenade exploded, sending him and the creature flying apart in a greasy mix of gore.

20

“Samuell, sir…” the young man hesitated, unsure of what title or honorific to use, and Sam waved him off.

“Enough of the ‘sir’ crap, okay. Sam is fine. What did you need?”

“Umm, we cannot detect the propulsion protocols in the programming. It’s like it was erased. I’m sorry, but we don’t know what to do about it – the original code is gone.”

Sam put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, “It’s okay, son.”

“But without that prog- “ the young man began to protest, but Sam stopped him, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

“I said, it. Is. Okay. The explanation is long and complex, and I hardly understand it, but believe me, she will work just fine. Just continue with the checks… on what is there, okay? Monitor for anomalies in the programing”

The young man was getting exasperated, despite the comfort Sam was trying to offer. “Sam,” he said, the name still coming off his tongue uncomfortably, “that’s the problem; there isn’t anything to check. It’s like the data banks are entirely blank.”

Sam nodded, flipping his hand mater-of-factly, “Is she working?”

The other blanked, Sam’s question hitting him like a pipe to the head. After a moment, he answered, “W-well… y…” He paused, his brow dropping as he began to realize exactly what Steve had just asked him. Thinly, he said, “Oh, hell. The ship’s been working at top performance in every test and monitoring cycle we’ve done for weeks, with no…”

“… Programming,” Sam finished, nodding. “Damned artificial intelligence. I just hope for the best, kid. It’s all we’ve got, now.” He paused, took a breath, then, “So, as I said, just keep up the monitoring, and watch for any changes. Use your judgment. I am told to expect that all of the ship’s basic functions are not within the data banks, so watch for bugs, potential glitches, basically anything else out of the norm.”

The younger man nodded and headed back to his station on one of the upper levels around the shroud, talking and gesturing to himself the whole way, still trying to work the whole thing out in his mind.

Meanwhile, Sam walked toward the back wall, where a counter held a trio of coffee makers, all three bubbling with a heady Guatemalan blend of that elixir. He took a paper cup from the stack and took the first pot that finished, filling it to the brim.

“Did I hear that right,” John suddenly asked from the right, causing Sam a slight jump just as he was about to take a sip, singeing his lip on hot brew.

“Ow, crap,” he growled, jerking his hand and slopping more over his knuckles. The cup slipped from his burned hand, and plummeted to the floor, beginning to tumble as it fell.

“Sor- “ John started to say, but focused on the cup, instead. About two feet from the floor, the cup-and-coffee stopped; droplets of black liquid held still in midair, then slowly converged over the rim of the cup, which itself began to float upward, catching the suspended coffee as it went. Sam watched as it stopped again, level with his hand.

Samuell, gawking, closed his hand gently over the cup, and John blinked.

“You did that,” Sam said more than asked, plainly fascinated.

John nodded, “Kind of just picked it up. Practice is good,” he quipped.

“Well, seems you’re full of surprises.”

A loud, metallic clatter echoed throughout the cavern like a shot, and everyone in the place looked up to the lift, docked at the top floor above. The sound of the gate slamming shut rung out, then a lever being thrown clacked downward to the ears of those below. The lift suddenly dropped, a plume of sparks raining below.

“s**t,” said Sam, “someone threw the brake. Get back!”

People scattered and ducked behind desks, furniture, or whatever else they could find. In seconds, the lift slammed to the floor, sending out a cloud of dust and filling the cavern with a metallic cacophony. Seconds dragged on as the echo died out and the dust settled, revealing a ruined lift in a tangle of twisted metal beams. A man groaned from the pile, and Sam, John, Martha, and a half-dozen others rushed to the heap and began pulling it apart.

Moments later, Steve lay on the cracked halves of the lift itself, his right leg bent the wrong way at the knee. He turned his head, looking at the people around the wreckage, until his eyes fell on John and Sam, and he actually grinned.

“I made it,” Steve croaked, “look, we need to get going. Help me up, please,” he said, and thrust up his right hand.

Sam reached, but John quietly said, “Let me try.”

John focused on Steve, on making him lighter, on shifting his position in physical space, and slowly, gently, the man began to rise slowly into a standing position, like Dracula from his coffin. Gasps came in a breathy wave from behind as Sam stepped to Steve’s right side and turned to face the same direction, ready to offer a shoulder once he was upright. His right leg flopped uselessly as he righted, and Sam dipped his shoulder under Steve’s arm, feeling the man’s weight slowly build as John released his hold.

The onlookers began cheering and applauding, and Martha slid over to support John as he sagged a little.

“It’s okay,” he told her quietly, wiping his forehead with his arm, “never lifted that much.”

“Thank you, John, that was awesome,” Steve said with a grin, “Thank you all. Are you okay, John?”

“I’ll be good in a minute or two. What about you?” The pair speaking appeared somewhat comical, having their conversation while they both were held up by others, and occasioned a couple snickers from the crowd.

Sam chimed in, craning around to look Steve in the eyes, “What the Hell were you thinking? Are you insane?”

Steve shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. They’re here. It’s time we go, and everyone else needs to dig in.”

The crowd went silent, as if all had gone mute simultaneously.

“Are they inside,” someone asked, while another said, “That’s it. We’re dead. We’re all dead.” “Shut up!” “Don’t tell him-“ The crowd was in the fast-lane to mass panic; shouting had erupted in seconds, and several people close to blows.

A gunshot rang out, ricocheting on a steel beam above, and silence fell as the echo faded. Martha lowered her pistol, aimed it at the floor as she set the safety, and said, “Now, if you’ll all quiet down and listen, it’s time to get s**t done. Mr. Haverstad?”

“Thank you for the introduction,” Steve chuckled around the pain. “We’re short on time. Let’s make this happen.”

“Steve,” Sam said, “are you sure you can do this?”

“I have to,” was all he said, and urged Sam to move by leaning his weight forward.

John, standing on his own now, asked as he caught up, “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Dead,” Steve said after making sure that they were away from the crowd.

“Uuum, what?”

Steve sighed, spotting a pair of crutches used by a young woman who’d broken her leg last year and steering Sam that way. “The rest were from the platoon of soldiers that were helping to protect this place. They had the best training… and were the only ones willing to go, besides me.

“They were with me earlier when I went to check on the settlement outside – Leslie heard from the patrol,” he grunted as he grabbed the crutches, hitched them under his arms, and smoothly hobbled along as he spoke. “The patrol found the front gate empty, and the… remains of one of the soldiers.” He paused and looked at the other two, “They melted the doors, damned foot-thick steel doors, like butter. They shrugged-off bullets like mosquitoes. Even severed, the limbs still thrash about.”

He hobbled on, forcing the others to take a few quick steps to catch up. “You’re quick on those,” John said as they all got on the lift up the ship’s shroud.

“Been on them a few times in my life. Car fell on me back when I was a mechanic, broke my left leg. Had knee surgery on the same leg about fifteen years later. Once you have to use them, it’s kind of like riding a bike.”

As the lift trundled upward, a cloud of dust began to fill the upper portion of the cavern. A metallic grating sounded next; little squeaks and groans came as punctuation over a constant grinding. As John scanned overhead, he noticed that the top of the shroud was apparently opening – he saw what looked like half of a massive metal disc swinging up and over until it stopped to hang vertically against the side of the cylinder. The hinges then popped apart, and the halves fell to the floor like a pair of half-moon guillotines with a pair of ear-splitting clangs; they easily landed into two-foot deep channels cut for just this purpose. Clamps at either end quickly slapped over the ends to secure them in place.

The lift ground to a halt, and Sam went for the console as the entire shroud itself began to visibly vibrate. Like a giant telescope, the cylinder collapsed downward in ten-foot-tall sections, revealing the ship within. Whole process was deafening, but thankfully went quickly; by the time Sam got the door open – which still stood in its frame, making the scene absurd – the rest of the shroud lay below in a stacked ring.

“Stupid modular doorway,” Sam grumbled as the trio crossed through and onto the next lift. John tried to suppress a snicker, and noticed Steve doing the same, hiding behind the act of fiddling with his glasses.

Sam stabbed a finger at the button and got the lift going as John stepped on, saying, “You guys like these lifts an awful lot, don’t you?” Steve threw a look over his shoulder, and John grinned with an impish little glimmer in his eye.

The lift jerked to a halt a foot too high, and Sam apologized, citing that the equipment engineers never plotted this floor into the lift. He and John stepped down, then helped Steve down, and the three of them went to the side of the ship, and the airlock door.

Sam began working on the next console while Steve waited near the door, and John stood watch, glancing here and there as the people below began thinning out. Those who’d finished whatever duties they had in preparation for launch were sent to the Residential area to arm up and dig in.

As the airlock hatch swung open, Sam took the crutches and helped Steve step over the lip of the doorway. John’s attention went to the top floor as Steve ambled inside, and he saw one of the creatures appear where the main lift would dock, if it weren’t below in a wrecked heap. It moved to the edge of the walkway and stopped, as if surveying the cavern. John’s little “friend”, that pile of sweet filth hiding in the corner of his mind, suddenly went alert, and he wasn’t sure if it was that alertness or the scrutiny that the creature above seemed to focus on him that caused his arms to prickle inside and out.

His mind-friend hissed, goooo. Must goooo, noooow. Waaantss yoouuu.

A second sensation, somewhat similar to but much more abhorrent than the one he was becoming accustomed to, crashed down over him like an ethereal tidal wave. He stumbled, grabbing the rail for support. Below, he saw people fully prone and groaning, some holding their heads. He looked back up at the ledge, and saw that there were now four of the things in a line, with others moving behind them.

A voice behind drew his attention, “John, let’s go.” He turned to see Sam reaching through the doorway. John's legs were like wobbly cement pillars, and he felt as if gravity had increased five-fold as he stumped across the three feet to the opening in struggling baby-steps, finally taking Sam’s hand when he could reach. The other man stepped toward him and pulled, the momentum dragging him the rest of the way. John passed through the threshold into the ship, and the creature’s effects vanished almost instantly, leaving him feeling drained.

“You guys gonna make it,” Sam asked pulling himself back inside, and both men answered with a nod. He took Steve’s hand, “You take care, man.”

Steve chuckled, “Hey, it’s going to be a long nap. Not much can happen sleeping.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sam said, then turned to John, offering his hand, “It has been good to meet you, Johnathan Shandor. I regret not having more time, both as a potential friend, and as a scientist. You seem a remarkable person.”

John took the hand and shook with a strong grip, “Likewise, Samuell.”

Sam stepped out of the airlock, and immediately began to come under the effects generated by the creatures.

He glanced in at Steve and John. “This sucks. Now I see why you had trouble,” he grunted with visible effort. Using his hands to help steady and move him, he passed out of sight of the men, and made it to the console as a massive pain began to bloom in his head. With everything he had, he fought long enough to get his hand to the console and slap the button to close the airlock, but nothing happened. He slapped at it again and again, until he fell into agonized screaming.

A female voice called into the airlock, “Closing airlock door, prepare for pressurization and gravity shift.” The outer door swung shut, cutting off the rest of Sam’s agony from the two inside. The room sealed with a hiss, and their ears popped with the pressure change, then they began to feel gravity shift gradually to the left.

John stepped easily with the roll, as if he were born into it. Steve, hobbling on crutches and in pain from broken bones, failed the maneuver badly, and tumbled over like clothes in a dryer. One of his crutches almost caught John on the nose as the other man flopped onto the floor. He grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him back up, and helped him get the crutches back in place.

“Thank you,” Steve said meekly, and got a smile and a nod from John. The airlock hissed again, and the inside door popped open. As the two men stepped into the main hall, the female voice boomed, echoing, “WELCOME”.

They winced at the loudness, and Steve grunted, “Less volume, please Celeste.”

At a more conversational level, “My apologies, gentlemen. Mr. Haverstad, good to see you again. It has been a few days.”

“I’m sorry, Celeste. Things have been a bit hectic lately.”

“I know, Steve. We should launch in the next twenty minutes, or we won’t at all. Please head to the bridge.”

They headed toward the front of the craft, Steve back on the crutches, and through the doors into the bridge. Unlike his first time through, John saw the bridge lit up fully now, every console actively running. The reality hit him that he and Steve were the only ones going, and Steve was seriously injured.

“Damn,” John said, “We're really it, aren't we?”

Steve half-turned, “Sadly, yes. You’d better get belted in.”

John took the closest seat without thinking, and found himself in the captain’s chair. He pulled at the ends of the belt, which retracted like seat belts in a car into the underside of the chair, and clicked them together. He felt around for more, but found none.

“Shouldn’t there be a harness or something? I always understood takeoff was a rough trip.”

This time when Steve half-turned, he was grinning, “You’ll see.”

The screen at the front flickered on, and Celeste said, “You should see this.”

Both men watched, the view from a sensor in the nose of the ship directed at the ledge of the top floor. First one, then another of the creatures still lined up there began to move forward and over the edge of the lip, sliding down the cavern wall as if they ignored gravity altogether.

“s**t, it’s time to go. Celeste, let’s get out of here.”

“Affirmative,” came the female voice.

John was just noticing that he could hear the ship’s engine humming, when it began to grow louder, intensifying. Meanwhile, the dark little presence in his head was contentedly humming away.

The forward screen’s view widened, covering the front third of the wall of the bridge, and offering a wide enough view to see out to the sides from the main seat. The cavern seemed to be sliding toward the back of the ship as it began its ascent.

A series of muffled pops and flashes appeared ahead as charges blew the ground above out and away from the path of the Celeste, and in seconds she was basking in early morning sunlight. As she climbed, John could see the remains of Flagstaff, mostly a smoking crater, and he said a silent “goodbye” to his friends and family.

Their speed increased, and John began to see why Steve grinned at his question about the seat belts; he barely felt the ship's momentum, and in moments, they were miles up, piercing the mid-levels of atmosphere, when a flash caught both men’s attention to the right. They watched a shock wave pass over the ground as a massive cloud mushroomed upward, flashes of heat illuminating it from within. Soon, they passed through the exosphere, and at this distance were able to see nearly a dozen more clouds across the entire hemisphere.

“By the Gods,” John muttered.

“This is how our world ends,” Steve said, his voice heavy with sadness. “I always hoped that I’d never see it, that mankind would recognize that folly and do away with the technology.”

John sighed, “As much as I agree with the sentiment, humans will always fight.”

“Oh, I know that,” Steve said, turning his seat and un-belting, “I just hoped that they’d have found a less environmentally destructive means to kill each other, you know?” He grunted and pushed himself up, grabbing the crutches and steadying himself. “Let’s get you settled in for a nap.”

Shortly, they were in the ‘Sleep Cabin’, and John was sitting in one of the tubes, while Steve busied himself at the console.

“So, am I going to dream?” John was looking over the wires connecting the electrodes at various points of his face, chest and arms to the inside of the pod.

“Those who tested it said that not only did they, it was a very lucid dream state – they pretty much had full control.”

John, satisfied with the response, laid back and wriggled about, settling himself in and beginning to feel comfortable. It was well cushioned inside, which helped to make it feel less cramped and coffin-like.

“You ready,” Steve called from the console.

“Aren’t you sleeping?”

“I will soon, after I see to my leg,” Steve grunted.

John gave one last wriggle, then, “Okay.”

The cover slid over and quietly sealed, and John suddenly felt like a deli sandwich, looking out through the glass at the room. Steve waved from the console and he gave a little wiggle of his fingers in reply. He looked straight up at the ceiling, his eyes feeling heavy as thoughts of people he knew passed through his mind, and in moments he was asleep.