Slowly, the major made his way to the door. Jeff covered him to the left. His eyes wandered over the objects on the floor. Some of them could have been from a human ship. There were cups, pens, containers, even a tool resembling a screwdriver. On the papers he recognized the wedge-like characters that had been on the walls of the ship. It looked like they had been in the middle of working when suddenly disaster struck. Jeff shook his head. What on earth had happened here?
Irons had reached the door. He looked tentatively left and right before stepping out into the corridor. Jeff followed him and took up the left flank. The lamp on his suit illuminated the open corridor.
The passageway was just as wide as the one on the other side of the gate, but so long you couldn’t see the other end. At regular intervals along both sides of the walls, there were giant black pillars that met in the middle to form arches high above their heads. Maybe the corridor would take them directly to the center of the ship. Along the right wall, a single rail led from the gate into the distance. Probably, there had been some kind of transportation system here once upon a time.
“The corridor Fields went down must be over there,” Castle said, pointing to an intersection nearby. “That’s where he saw the light.”
“Keep going,” Irons said. “But nice and slow.”
Step by quiet step, they made their way to the turning. Weapon drawn, Irons peered around the corner before stepping out into the corridor. Jeff followed at a distance of a few feet. There was nothing to see. The only light was from the lamps on their suits. Scraps of paper, some of which looked scorched, lay strewn on the ground.
“There,” Irons whispered, pointing to an open door. That had to be the room where Fields saw the alien. The Major pressed himself against the wall beside the door and waited until the others had caught up. Then he glanced around the corner, pointed his gun, and stormed into the room.
Jeff ran into the room behind Irons and took up the left flank again. Something punched him in the back. He spun round in a panic, but it was just Owl, who had caught him by accident on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” the radio operator hissed.
Jeff inched his way forward.
There were metal tables lined up against the wall and another long row of tables in the middle of the room. On some of them were pieces of equipment, but Jeff couldn’t begin to guess what they were for. Scattered on the floor were containers and more scraps of paper. These were covered in writing.
Jeff picked up one of them and looked at the strange symbols in fascination. What did it say?
An alien language! Jeff swallowed and dropped the piece of paper. But there was no sign of a light alien here—or of Fields.
Irons was now on the other side of the row of tables, scanning the floor. He held his gun lightly in his hand and bit his lips. The major seemed undecided as to how to proceed.
“Where’s Fields?” Finni wondered aloud.
“Not here, clearly,” Irons replied and slipped past Finni into the corridor.
“And what do we do now?” Green asked. “The light alien must have taken him and dragged him away. Fields could be anywhere on the ship. We may never find him.”
“We’ll search the immediate area,” the major said.
“Shall we split up?” Jeff asked. That way they could cover a bigger area faster.
Irons mulled it over for a moment. “No. We don’t know what happened to Fields, or if there’s another one of these creatures lurking around. I’d prefer if we stuck together. Captain Austin?”
“Sir?”
“Report back to HQ and check the status.”
Jeff nodded. He put his pistol back in his holster and pulled out the handheld. Even from here he had pretty good reception thanks to Green’s invention. He outlined the situation to Joanne and how they were planning to proceed. She had nothing new to report. Shorty and Mac were desperate to join the search, but Irons decided against it.
“We’re going down the corridor,” Irons said, moving on, gun at the ready. Jeff made sure to keep a distance of at least three feet. At one point, he thought he saw a glimmer of light in the distance, but it could have been a reflection from one of their headlamps.
After a few minutes, they reached a door that Irons opened by pressing the small square next to it. Jeff could only just see over Irons’ shoulder. They were greeted by the same scene as everywhere else in this part of the ship: broken, charred, and melted-down furniture scattered around the room, and the floor covered in rubbish. There was no sign of Fields. They walked about half a mile down the corridor and searched more rooms, but after half an hour, Irons decided it was time to return to the gate.
Nobody said a word. Irons was tight-lipped the whole time. Jeff had never seen the major so tense before.
Finally they reached the wide corridor with the gate, and Jeff presumed they would return to the other side.
But instead, Irons announced: “Let’s look around the corridor a bit more,” and headed off. Jeff would have preferred to go back. Everything was so creepy here. He let the light of his headlamp glide over the vaulted ceiling high above his head. The corridor really did look like an endlessly long nave—as if the builders had modeled it on a Gothic cathedral. But a very dark cathedral, with nothing sacred about it.
“There’s another door over there,” Finni said, indicating a spot on the wall with his headlamp. Jeff turned around. They weren’t far from the gate.
Irons opened the door, his gun still raised. He shone his flashlight around the room and then stepped inside. Jeff followed him. It wasn’t a big space. Large, cabinet-like furniture lined the walls, while long benches took up most of the middle of the room. On the floor were more scraps of paper and other debris.
Jeff turned his head slowly, so that his headlamp lit up the wall. The place reminded him of a locker room. Irons pushed another door, which swung open. “Nothing in here.”
Jeff edged his way along the wall. One of the doors looked a little bent and didn’t seem to be properly closed. He pushed against it like Irons had done, but it was jammed. He hooked a finger around the frame and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder and suddenly it opened with a creaking sound. A black shadow that had obviously been leaning against the back of the door fell toward him. Fuck! The shadow pushed him to the ground and he felt something cold touch his face. Finni screamed. Jeff tried to push aside whatever it was that was now pinning him to the ground. Finally, he managed to free himself, but as he tried to stand up, he slipped on something wet. Finally he managed to find his balance and pointed his pistol at the thing. But the beam of Irons’ headlight had turned the shadow into a human body lying prone on the ground.
The dark-gray combat suit had assumed a strange brownish-red color. The right foot protruded from the leg at an unnatural angle. The boots were missing completely. And where there should have been hair there was a strange, pulpy mass.
“Holy shit!” hissed Owl. “Is that Fields?”
“Who else would it be,” Green croaked.
Irons rushed forward, grabbed the lifeless body by the shoulder and quickly flipped it on its back.
Finni turned pale and threw up on the floor.
Castle gasped.
Jeff choked and took a step back.
“What the hell…?” Irons whispered.
The body no longer bore any resemblance to Fields. It looked more like a slaughtered pig. The suit and body had been cut from the sternum to the crotch and gaped wide, as if the ribs had been stretched apart with a mechanical spreader. Jeff was no doctor, but he saw at a glance that much of what should be in a body was missing. Some organ—was it the liver?—was dangling out of the cavity. Part of the intestine had coiled itself around the right hand, on which three fingers were missing.