“Tor, this is Tripp. Do you read me?”
The black marks on his arm swirled into a “tick” shape and bled out into a black-and-white rendition of Tor’s face. “Yes, this is Tor. I read you.”
“Tor, listen. Something has happened to N-Vigorate,” he said, losing his breath while running, “We’re in danger.”
“Danger? What danger?”
“That place we saw earlier. It’s starting to appear everywhere. We think Manuel is right, we’re not on Opera Beta—”
The walls of the walkway shunted back and forth, putting a halt to Tripp’s comments, and a slight pause in progress. “Oh, wow.”
Breathless, Wool slowed down to a jog and tilted her head to the ceiling. “It’s happening again.”
“Tripp?” Tor’s voice shot out from Tripp’s arm, “What’s going on?”
SCHUNT!
A chasm split along the ceiling, shattering the material like a broken eggshell. “Run!”
Wool and Tripp wasted no time. They bolted along the corridor as the crack opened up above their heads, spilling pipework and sharp bits of ceramic all around them.
“What do I do? Tor asked from Tripp’s forearm.
He turned to the ink on his skin and kept running. “Stay where you are. Do not leave the control deck. Lock the door and await further instru—”
KERRAANG!
A lump of metal daggered through the corridor wall. Tripp yanked her forward just in time for it to avoid severing her hip. The resultant tear on her inner-suit was imminently more preferable than losing a vital organ.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, just run,” Tripp quipped as they picked up the pace, “Don’t even think about stopping.”
Wool looked over her shoulder as she quickened her pace. A dozen pipes fell across the path, blasting various liquids and gases across the walkway.
“Oh my God, we’re—”
The ceiling cracked apart like a budding rose as they turned the corner, on the path to N-Carcerate.
“Tripp, Tripp,” Wool pulled him back and pointed at the opened sky, multi-colored sky. A serene sound of ocean waves and cool air rolled around the opening.
Tripp couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His ship was breaking apart all around him like a detonated tomb with a grudge.
“Come on, no time to admire the view.” He spun around on his feet and stormed toward N-Carcerate with Wool in tow. “Jaycee! Jaycee, open the door!”
The N-Carcerate door edged closer and closer as Tripp and Wool clanged along the stern surface of the walkway. He opened out his palm and shoved his arm in front of his face, intending to slap it against the panel.
“Get ready!” he screamed, trying to outrun the metaphysical destruction erupting around them.
The door slid open before Tripp had the chance to manually open it. “Whoa!”
He pushed Wool through and darted into the room, turning on his heels and drawing the door shut by its handle.
Seriously out of breath, he placed his hands on his knees and gasped. “Ugh, no more. No more… this… is too much.”
“You okay, Tripp?” Jaycee’s voice lumbered from the other side of the room.
Tripp closed his eyes and caught his breath. At last, a reassuring voice and some confirmation that Jaycee was perfectly fine. He stood up straight and was about to speak, when he laid eyes on the giant of a man.
His face fell a few light years from his body. “Jaycee?”
“Yes, Captain. Look who woke up.”
Tripp blinked over and over again, trying to process what he saw. Wool held her hand over her mouth and gasped as she finally laid eyes on the scene. “Oh, my God.”
“Jaycee?” Tripp took a careful step forward, hoping not to attract any undue attention. “Don’t… move.”
“What are you talking about?” Jaycee knocked Baldron’s arm. The Decapidisc sat around his captive’s neck, resting heavily across his shoulders.
Of course, this was to be expected. Jaycee was never one to miss an opportunity to instill fear in people – particularly a traitor. Both he and Baldron faced Tripp and Wool. The opposite direction of the cause of concern.
“He’s g-going to kill me,” Baldron sobbed and rubbed his arms.
Tripp averted his gaze over Jaycee’s shoulder, staring at the wall behind him “Not if that… thing… kills you first.”
“What thing?” Jaycee turned around and nearly soiled his exo-suit pants. “Wha—” He elbowed Baldron toward Tripp and slung his K-SPARK gun at the wall. “What in God’s name is that that—?
An giant ball of pasty-white human flesh with several limbs clung to the wall like an absorbent slug. Balled-up like a spider, it retracted its limbs. It measured at least five feet wide and eight feet tall. The sheer enormity of the thing was devastating.
The mid-section of the beast heaved in and out, squirming as it slid down the wall. Two of its limbs reached the ground and thumped out, trying to orient itself as it crawled to the ground.
“Get back— My God,” Jaycee aimed his shotgun at it and teased the trigger. “What’s going on here?”
“Up there,” Wool whispered, afraid to alarm the creature as it flopped to the ground and squealed. “Look! The crack. It must have got in through there.”
She was right – a crack had formed where the ceiling met the wall.
Jaycee focused on the creature and aimed down his sight. “Damn, that’s one ugly-looking lump of flesh.”
“Jaycee, no. Don’t shoot it—” Tripp quipped as the multi-limbed sack of flesh extended six of its twelve fleshy tentacle-cum-limbs across the ground. The central tumorous slit opened up and squealed in anger.
“Night-night, sweetheart,” Jaycee spat.
BANG!
The bullet rocketed through the air and hit the creature. It exploded in all directions. Bits of pink-colored flesh and blood splattered the crew.
“Gaaoooww,” Baldron screamed as some of it went in his mouth.
The bullet blasted right through the creature and smashed into the wall, forcing a crack ten feet above them to break apart. Chunks of ceramic crashed around Baldron and Jaycee.
“Get out of here, now!”
“Baldron, let’s go,” Wool took his hand and made for the door. Tripp thumped Jaycee on the back, ready to accost him, when he caught a glimpse through the crack in the wall.
“Oh… no, no, run. Run, run, run!” Tripp’s soul nearly flew out of his mouth, as did Jaycee’s.
Several hundred feet in the sandy horizon thousands more of the same creatures scuttled toward the ship.
“This can’t be h-happening,” Jaycee stammered, unable to move. “Where are we?”
Tripp pushed him toward the door. “I dunno, but we’re not sticking around to find out—”
CRAAACCK!
N-Carcerate’s ceiling shunted apart like a pressurized ribcage, flooding the prison chamber with pink light. The iron bars on each cell punctured away from its housing and crashed to the floor, creating a series of obstacles on the path to the door.
“Tripp,” Wool shouted over the commotion, “Come on, we gotta get outta here!”
Tripp jumped over the fallen bar and pulled Jaycee with him. “God, you’re heavy.”
“It’s the exo-suit, man.”
“Yeah,” Tripp yanked him by his mammoth waist, “And it’s not water retention, it’s cake retention.”
“You calling me fat?” Jaycee took aim at the chasm in the wall. The creatures scurried forward, squealing for revenge.
“No, I’m calling you dead if you don’t get out of here,” Tripp hoisted himself over the debris and jumped toward the door. “Head for the control deck.”