Pumpking

Issue 43

0 hours without incident

The bridge location in the lift was flashing red. The lift also didn't want to take me to the engine room or the living quarters.

I hit the button rapidly and then decided to lean on it. Oddly, that seemed to work and the lift jerked into motion. The computer must have decided that I could take my chances if I wanted.

It had a point.

I had no weapons, but against these things, they were the weak ones. It made my insides squirm a little, wondering if they were intelligent, sentient beings that I was killing; the thought of ending a life, even in such a desperate situation was disturbing.

But I wasn't going to die.

It was just that simple; sure they might have families and reasons for their attack, but when push came to shove; I wasn't going to die for them.

The harshness of that thought struck at me. Did it mean I was heartless? That I didn't care about the sanctity of these creatures? Was it a side-effect of the symbiote? Anything that did not obey me, I was compelled to destroy. If it argued or showed too strong a will, I almost couldn't help myself, I would move to kill it. Perhaps it was a mixture of the symbiote and my own will to live.

The lift stopped a deck below the bridge and I stepped out. I was almost immediately cut down by the discharge of six ray-guns. Only a last minute trip over the body of someone who had fallen before me, saved my life.

I gained control of the fall, rolling forward and coming up; my hand slicing through the air in an arc before me. The resulting explosion seemed smaller; more precise this time.

Plant and strange green brain-matter splattered across the hallway.

The plant-heads that had ambushed me fell down, lifeless corpses; viney arms twisted at grotesque angles as they sprawled.

Nothing remained of their upper heads. I had microwaved their brains.

I turned and started vomiting and retching.

I could smell cooked flesh, vegetables and decay.

I could see a big orange eye, lifeless and stewing in the mess of bodily fluids on the ground at my feet.

By the time I was done and wiping my mouth, I felt better; mostly about my heartless mentality that I had worried I was without a care. Shock set in, as I turned; seeing the pathway to the bridge like a long journey ahead of me. I didn't have a choice. I had to get there if I wanted to continue breathing. If I sat around waiting for help to come to me, I would not last; sure the pantheon would win- they were hardened veterans of this madness; but it might take time, hours, or days. And I wouldn't last long on my own, unprotected, now would I? I was just as vulnerable to spacing as the next air-breather.

I rolled to my feet, turning to see who I had fallen over and inadvertedly been saved by; the corpse was an unknown to me.

He was wearing one of the technician uniforms that I'd seen around the place. Guilty, and creepy, but I took his swipe-card. He didn't need it and I might have to go somewhere my visitor pass didn't account for.

I found my way down the corridor and found a terminal on the wall. I needed to figure out where the stairwell or whatever was—ladder, maintenance tube—whatever they were called on ships.

The blueprint identified that all maintenance shafts were for emergency only (this definitely counted) and they were located two corridors away. I sighed.

I put the spare pass over my neck and a chill ran down my spine. Dead man's pass.

The first corridor was clear. I saw an empty pod that must have contained the plant-heads from the lift that I'd run into. It was quiet, patiently sitting in the side of the ship like it might have sprouted out of the hull.

I stepped past it gingerly. Worried it might have sort of sensor alarm or something. The pod didn't so much as beep at me.

Guess the plant-heads hadn't thought there might be a girl on board who could explode them with her mind. What arrogant oversight.

I heard talking just as I reached the next corridor, it was in a strange dialect, some sort of alien language. I didn't understand a word of it, but they seemed unguarded.

I swallowed, gathering my strength and willpower before I let loose.

"Jag har inte hört från Hans, var han med dig?""Nej, han gick med de andra.""Han är skyldig mig biljetter till baseball spelet nästa fredag. Hörde du något?""Gud du är så nervös. Kanske är det den onda plantrottan som kommer att slå oss upp. Kom igen, vi får inte betalt för din skit.""Bit mig."

I rolled on my shoulder from behind the blindspot on the corner, forming two thick spikes of power in my mind. My fingers formed a V as orange energy lashed across the room.

There were three of the plant-heads here, but the third had the misfortune of standing next to one of the others when his head exploded like a concussion grenade.

The corridor shook and the fire alarm went off overhead.

I was already dripping in foam, but apparently more was needed. I wiped my face with one hand and spat out a little that I'd gotten in my mouth. It tasted like plastic.

They could talk, I guess that meant they were intelligent. Still I didn't need to make guesses about what they were discussing, probably the best way to take over the planet- or whatever it was that alien plant-things talked about.

The emergency staircase was ahead and when I was done spitting out fire-foam, I used the technician's card to open it. No red light for him.

I ran a hand through my mussed hair and pulled it out of my face.

I had to make it to the bridge. One deck up- however high a deck was on this ship- and take out whatever was in my way. I exhaled as I glanced into the maintenance tunnel, it was a ladder leading up into a crawlspace; tight, small—good thing I wasn't claustrophobic.

I swung my leg over the edge and pulled myself toward the ladder with a small noise. The gap between the door and the ladder was wide, very wide. It was enough that I had to jump. Nothing like the prospect of splattering against the ground all those floors below me to keep a good firm grip.

The tunnel only had a dim red light for illumination and the ladder was frosty to the touch. The whole area was freezing.

I guess they didn't worry about temperature control in these spots so much.

I sighed and started climbing.

By the time I found the door above me I was sweating and shivering with exertion. It was a long way up and the slippery ladder threatened to spill me off more than once to a grisly fate below.

I glanced across at the hatch and dragged myself to the rung a little above it. There was no handle or keypad on this side- I guess it would open when pushed. Only I didn't have long beefy arms; I was going to have to shove. If I didn't push hard enough I'd slide and might not get hold of the ladder in time.

This was such a stupid idea.

I lunged at the latch, shoulder and elbow slamming into it as hard as I could.

I had a moment, feeling the hatch budge but not enough. I punched forward with a flailing desperate fist, even as I felt gravity dragging me down.

The hatch popped open. I catch the very edge, wincing as the door slammed against my fingers a few seconds later.