The alien stood there, apparently paralyzed with fear as Beast attacked, swinging the axe with all his strength.
The blade struck the helmet and there was a loud crack of something shattering. Fissures appeared in the faceplate, along with a small hole at the blade’s impact point.
The object in the human’s hand switches from green to red in the alien’s sensory array. It has been reclassified from harmless to a threat. As such, it must be disabled.
The alien reached out for the axe, moving with speed that belied its size. But Beast wasn’t exactly slow afoot either. He twisted to the right, dodging the creature’s lunge, and struck again. The cracks in the faceplate widened and now Beast could actually see a single, alien eye glaring out from within.
He brought the axe around again, but the alien intercepted it with its forearm. The blade glanced off it harmlessly, and with a quick movement the alien sent the axe tumbling. It clattered to the floor near an array of steam lines.
Beast tried to get to it but the alien was blocking his way. He lashed out with a foot, kicking the alien squarely in what Beast imagined was its chest. It rocked slightly back on its heels but otherwise appeared undamaged.
Beast quickly feinted left, then right, then left again. The alien went for the third feint, lunged at him, and Beast quickly cut right again with the sureness of foot that only someone who had played plenty of soccer could possess. The alien had left just enough space for Beast to dodge past it. It swung a fist around and slammed it into the wall, barely missing Beast’s head as he passed. Had the blow landed, Beast would have wound up as nothing but a red mass against the bulkhead.
Quickly, the towering engineer grabbed the fallen axe and turned to face the alien, who was advancing on him yet again.
The human’s physical capabilities and resourcefulness have been sufficiently tested. It is now time to terminate this exercise and move on.
The alien moved toward Beast with what seemed like new resolve. Beast realized that another shot or two at the faceplate wasn’t going to get the job done.
So instead of attacking directly, he swung the axe and severed the nearest steam line. Hot vapor blasted straight into the face of the oncoming alien.
The eye that Beast could make out within the helmet widened in surprise as the boiling steam enveloped the creature’s head within. There then came an outraged howl of pain as the steam practically cooked the alien’s head inside its helmet. It staggered back, still making those strange noises that sounded like a combination of a whale song and a lion’s roar.
The steam was now blasting everywhere, turning the entire area into a blinding sauna. Boiling vapor didn’t distinguish between friend or foe, and Beast turned and ran like hell, axe still in his hand.
As he sprinted down the hallway, he saw—to his relief—Hopper, with a couple of SCAT guys following him. “It’s right behind me!” he shouted, and suddenly something heavy struck him in the back of the head. Beast fell to the side, tumbling into a cross corridor, the world turning black around him, and he saw something bounce away from him. It was a valve from the steam lines. The alien must have ripped it off the wall and thrown it like a Frisbee. Son of a— was the last thing Beast thought before he passed out.
Hopper barely had time to cast a glance at Beast—just enough to affirm that he was out of the way—and then he and the SCAT team opened fire.
The alien moved forward quickly, its torso twisting and turning in response to the impact of the bullets assailing it. It kept one arm up as a shield lest any of the barrage get near its damaged faceplate. The armor withstood much of the assault, although one shot did tear off some of its knee. The alien did not, however, slow down.
“Fall back, sir!” shouted one of the sailors, and two men converged and formed a blockade between Hopper and the alien. This momentarily angered Hopper, because he wanted to be in the thick of the battle. It only belatedly occurred to him that they were doing exactly what they were supposed to: protecting the ship’s CO. In point of fact, he had no business being where he was at all. He should be someplace safe, ordering others into dangerous situations while he oversaw everything from a distance. But he wasn’t accustomed to thinking that way. Besides, he rationalized, the death of Stone and of the John Paul Jones’s captain and XO were proof enough that, in this situation, there was no safe place.
The alien continued to advance and, as if adapting its armor to up its protection, the impact from the blasts weren’t even slowing it anymore. It reached out and a low, angry roar came from within its helmet.
Beast’s “thug” snatches the glowing red weapons out of the hands of its assailants. They are hopelessly primitive, and nowhere near on par with the weapon that was actually able to do damage to the Regent they had captured. The Regent, however, has long since departed the ship, and now the warrior is finding that he can quickly assess and dispose of the other types of weapons the humans wield. These devices, for instance. They are easily broken, and can also be used against those who attempt to destroy him.
He snatches the weapons from the two humans facing him. The triggering mechanism is too small for him to utilize. Instead he simply reverses the weapons and uses them as bludgeons, slamming them onto the heads of the two humans. Their heads explode in a shower of bone and brain. The danger readout on both of them goes from red back to green. The humans go down immediately, leading the warrior to conclude that the inefficiently created humans only have one brain apiece rather than a far more elegant three. Poorly designed race. Next thing you know, they’ll turn out to only have one heart.
The two terminated humans had come together to prevent access to the third. This would indicate that the third is of some rank. This merits further investigation.
The remaining human fires its weapon at him—both the man and gun are glowing red. Its hands are shaking, its vital signs are at the high end of the scale and beyond. The human is terrified. That is good. At least it shows that the human appreciates the gravity of the situation.
He reaches the human and grabs the weapon from its hand. He snaps the weapon with no trouble as the human backs up. It bumps up against a wall and the warrior studies it meticulously, recording everything he sees. Of particular interest is what appears to be an insignia on its armor—extremely pathetic armor, it should be noted, being nothing more than some manner of thin material unable to repel even the most minimal of assaults. The insignia obviously denotes rank. This will be useful when it comes to deciding which of the humans to capture and which to simply dispose of. Certainly the higher-ranked ones will have demonstrably different brains and will be more useful and informative about the race as a whole when it comes to dissection.
Suddenly the human shoves him, which he had not been expecting. Does it not yet realize that he is superior in every way? That resistance is futile? Perhaps a more convincing demonstration is in order.
Hopper watched in shock as, with a whir and a click, something snapped into place on the alien’s armor. He didn’t have to be a scientific genius to realize it was some kind of blasting weapon, and it was targeted on him.
“Crap!” shouted Hopper as he yanked away from the creature’s grip, which happened to be on his uniform sleeve at that moment. The sleeve tore away from his shirt and he sprinted down the hallway. As he ran, he yanked out his walkie-talkie and shouted into it, “Raikes! Combat! Right now!”