The Prodigy

“Are you familiar with the Alien Neutrality Act?”

“Not the exact text. I know the Solar Democracy and the Outer Arm Systems have a cease–fire applying to all systems with primitive life. No ships, structures, or military forces on the surface. There could be no risk of exposing native races to human technology.”

“Yes, it is one of the only treaties the OAS has ever agreed on with us. You know firsthand how dangerous some of the native species on the frontier can be.”

“You’re talking about the BTR system, then. In theory, the act applies to all unsettled worlds, but everyone knows our government had the BTR incident in mind when they proposed the cease–fire.”

“Sharp, Truss. As I remember, you were the only survivor of that particular encounter.”

Samuel glanced down at the spatial deformity counter to the right of the communications screen. The ship was nearing a suitable jump point. The general had yet to give him the coordinates for the jump, but he had a pretty solid guess.

“You didn’t confiscate this ship so we could talk about old times. I’m approaching the designated jump point. You mentioned the neutrality act, and something tells me I’m not here to lobby a bill.”

“I’m sorry we had to keep you in the dark for so long, Truss, but the world you chose to vacation on has an undesirably large civilian population. The briefing I’m about to give you could not have been risked planetside. This information is absolutely confidential.”

“Briefing? When last I checked my leave wasn’t up for another six months.”

The general ignored Samuel’s last comment, reaching instead for a file of papers on his desk. He opened up the folder and flipped over the first sheet of paper.

“This,” he gestured to the document, “is a copy of the government contract given to the Meledros Mining Corporation. Officially, this contract does not exist. Since the discovery of BTR, Meledros has been excavating resources from its underground cave network.”

“The entire operation was well justified. Details are unnecessary, but the fact of the matter was that up until a week ago there was no possibility of our technology falling into alien hands.”

“What changed?”

“I’m sure you remember the Incartu species. You singly defeated a band of them during the incident four years ago.” The general closed the folder and pushed it off–screen.

“The scientists still aren’t sure what happened, but something the Meledros Corporation has been doing triggered an unexpected branching of Incartu genetics. As you know, evolution on BTR is no gradual process, it occurs in sudden jumps resulting from major changes in environment. Five days ago, a new breed of Incartu bypassed the security of the mining installation. The entire facility has been overrun. Their starport managed to launch a single transport, containing the mining installation’s only survivors. An unknown number of Incartu were also aboard.”

“The transport docked with the space station Speculation, currently in orbit around one of BTR’s moons. The station had a small military garrison aboard. They have been either completely disabled or killed.”

“The creature responsible is a dangerous mutation. The scientists call it the Prodigy, on account of its amazing mental abilities and its relative youth. A collection of everything we know about it so far is stored on the ship’s computer. Your objective is to rendezvous with our team at the station. After that, it’s search and destroy. Objectives understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The COM clicked off. Samuel Truss sat alone in the cockpit of the refitted diplomacy vessel, the smallest ship in the Solar Democracy’s Army with long–range rift capacity. On screen were the field coordinates for the BTR system.

“Just one more mission,” Sam whispered to himself.

The rift engine whirred to life, attracting all the random deformities of space–time together that would allow the ship to make a jump.

“Just one more.”

“The following is a summary of information regarding the creature known as the Prodigy.” The scientist in the recording looked a lot like the other scientists Samuel had seen during his service. Most were annoyingly enthusiastic. “The Prodigy is a male Incartu, between one and two solar years in age. We have a few very good shots of him, retrieved from Speculation during the attack. The Prodigy is not yet mature enough to reproduce, but captive Incartu have been observed to mature very quickly.”

The recording quickly scrolled through several images of the Prodigy mutation. There were many noteworthy differences from the normal species.

Incartu are vaguely humanoid in shape. They have a vaguely humanoid body structure. Two arms, two legs, one head. Most of the time, Incartu walk on their shortened forelimbs and use their larger legs for balance. Their legs hang down from an inverted pelvis, dangling just above the shoulders. The flexible vertebrae in the Incartu’s neck let it turn its head completely upside–down, watching terrain, obstacles, and potential targets.

The entire body, at least in still frame, seemed slightly off. Looking at a picture, it was nearly impossible to imagine the way that they moved. The flips and dives they could execute put most human acrobats to shame.

The Prodigy was more slender than the Incartu Samuel had once seen on the surface. The body, particularly the neck, looked more delicate. The head was more human, uncomfortably so. A small tuft of hair sprouted from what should have been a hairless scalp. The eyes angled differently, and there were only slits where the nose should be, but the face still looked very human.

“Most of our information has come in fragments, but we have managed to paste together a fairly complete clip of its infiltration of the control level.” The scientist was animated. Who would have thought it would be him who documented the discovery of a new intelligent breed of alien? The scientists who discovered the original species had been excited too, right up to the point where they realized it had gotten onto the ship… Sam shook his head and looked back to the recording. The Prodigy had launched itself swiftly past the view of the recorder.

It slid under a blast door and entered the bridge hallway. There was another camera inside, mounted onto an auto turret in the ceiling. The Incartu threw something, knocking out the turret, then dashed for the personnel at the end of the hallway.

There were soldiers stationed at the bridge. Shock troopers––Samuel recognized the insignia on their armor. There was a brief firefight; the Incartu took no hits. Within seconds, the bridge was silent.

“Fortunately, there is only one known creature currently in possession of this genetic mutation. However, it is believed that multiple breeds have evolved from the unknown contamination. Though none of these variants are as radical as the mutation present in the Prodigy, they should be considerably more deadly than normal Incartu.”

The computer scrolled through a few clips of the other Incartu. The shots were bad; it was impossible to make out the features. Most of them looked elongated, though not as delicate as the prodigy mutation had.

“The Prodigy apparently has some sort of control over these other Incartu. Their means of communication is unknown; the only vocalization Incartu are capable of is savage howling, which does not have any verbal structure. The species is normally unorganized, but the ones encountered on Speculation clearly have a goal. End recording.”

Unknown number of Incartu, unknown variant breeds… essentially, there was absolutely no knowing what he was up against. Samuel crawled back into the cargo bay of the ship, leaving the automatic pilot running. There was a complete set of medium combat armor, the same kind he had used when he was with the Marines. There was also a varied assortment of weapons, most out–of–date. He found a fairly recent model of an assault rifle and an accompanying sidearm. There was also a old–fashioned carbine, which probably dated back to the time of the original Federation settlers. He slung it over the shoulder of his armor; maybe it would come in handy.

The diplomacy vessel docked silently at the specified airlock on the space station Speculation. Why they gave space stations names like Speculation he could only guess. As he walked into the supply bay, he was greeted by a band of soldiers, most of them as decorated as himself.

“So the expert is finally here. Samuel Truss?” One of the Marines held out his gloved hand and shook Samuel’s firmly. “You’re the last to arrive. I have already set up a perimeter; we’re ready to proceed with the hunt.” He gestured to the other faces in the room, “it’s drawn the finest people.”

“I'm Slash Peldrov, Marine. I suppose I’m the leader of this outfit.”

“Slash?” Samuel glanced over the man’s equipment. “Is the knife in your boot then?”

“No, you see, my name is actually Thomas. Some fool typist accidentally replaced my first name with a backslash on the records. \ Peldrov: Marine, currently in the service of his majesty’s army.”

“I’m Ankur, assault tactics.”

“Jason, long range.”

“Do you remember me? Night.” Night dropped down from his perch to join the others. “I kill stuff.”

“Shervin, general army; field medic.”

“So what was it they are calling you again, Sam, a species veteran?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, now that we all know each other, let’s go fry us some Incartu!” Slash gestured towards his helmet COM. “Switch to headsets.”

The soldiers moved out into white sector hallway. Sparks fell from the walls where the Incartu had disabled power relays. In many places, the group had to switch to suit lights to get through the darkness and around the obstacles. White sector seemed completely clear of Incartu presence, as such, they moved on to the next area.

‹ Shervinv “Is the elevator still working? They might have ripped out the cords.”

‹ Jason ›“If they did, wouldn’t it have come crashing down by now?”

Jason stepped into the compartment. “Seems fine to me.”

‹ Shervin › “You realize, the friction locks alone could hold the elevator indefinitely. Seeing that you didn’t tumble to oblivion, I’d say it’s safe to assume that the pulleys still work.”

The six soldiers took their places inside the lift, and Jason depressed the color–coded symbol for yellow sector.

‹ Ankur › “Apparently the Incartu did something right. They ripped the god damn lift music out of the trans systems.”

Night responded in a low hiss. “I liked the music.”

‹ Samuel › “Keep sharp, these things can hide just about anywhere.”

The elevator doors slid open silently; the annoying ‘clang’ sound had apparently been disabled as well. The landing immediately outside was dim, illuminated only by the light strip of the elevator. Samuel flicked on the flashlight in the arm of his suit. The ceiling above was a mess of grey pipe work.

‹ Night › “I smell something.”

‹ Ankur › “Not the sandwich thing again, he’s been craving a meat sub all the way up here.”

‹ Slash ›“Wait, I can smell it too.” Slash looked around and found the source of the odor, “We have a dead body here.”

‹ Jason ›“Strange,” Jason looked up from a pile of rubble near the elevator door, “I found the head. I’ve heard that he Incartu don’t usually leave them lying around.”

Samuel knew it was there a moment before it pounced. The Incartu had latched onto Slash’s armor in an instant. It clawed wildly, but was making little progress against the bulletproof plastic plating of his helmet.

Hhhhaaraareash

Before any of the other soldiers had time to respond, Ankur opened up with his assault rifle. The force of the impacts knocked the Incartu to the floor. In true shock trooper spirit, Ankur followed up by raising one of his sub machineguns and putting a second clip of bullets into its face.

“Just to be sure it’s dead,” he explained.

Samuel approached the creature, “I can’t really make much from the remains of this guy, but it definitely isn’t our prodigy. Wrong shape, not thin enough.”

“Prodigy?” Ankur looked doubtfully at the charred body.

“Wasn’t it in your briefing?” Slash asked.

“There’s some new kind of Incartu running amuck in this station, and it’s our job to kill it before it can pass on its genes to the rest of the species.”

“You assault types really should pay more attention to mission objectives,” Jason said. Shervin was examining the dents in Slash’s armor. The creature hadn’t gotten through, but it had broken the fastenings on one side of the helmet. Samuel pushed open the door to the provision area, switching back to the helmet mike.

‹ Samuel ›“We have to keep going. It’s still in here somewhere.”

The mess hall looked like a war zone. There had probably been a short skirmish here; at least two bodies were plainly visible, but the room itself was simply ransacked. Of the three fans in the room, two were still turning. The other was bullet ridden, sparks were still glinting from the exposed lighting conduit.

Ankur glanced about, then spoke into his COM, “I guess Night wasn’t the only one craving a meat sub . . .”

Night grunted, possibly in acknowledgement, but probably in irritation. “Where are they?”

Samuel pushed his way past an overturned cart and into the kitchen. “Incartu are territorial. That’s definitely an advantage to us; we might make it through this place fighting just one at a time.”

‹ Slash › “I see one. Briefing room. Straight down the hall.”

Jason crept his way behind one of the tables and extended the two pivots of his rifle. Silently, he balanced it on the table and put his eye to the scope. He swung a ways to the right, then magnified on the hall. It was a pretty long hallway, but his rifle was designed to hit targets from across battlefields. Slowly, he leveled the gun and trained the crosshairs on the Incartu’s face. With the patience of a man shooting a still target, he pulled back on the trigger. The weapon kicked slightly. When he leveled the sight back on the room, the Incartu was sprawled across the floor.

“Stupid aliens. No cover or concealment.”

The soldiers moved ahead as Ankur and Night finished checking the kitchen and provision area. Night let out a dry groan. They had taken all the chicken.

“A good shot, soldier.” A gravely voice crackled onto the interface of the briefing room. The reception was very bad; Samuel could just make out the face of a pilot on the other end.

“Thank you, sir.” Jason fed a fresh clip into his rifle.

“Crew is trapped in purple sector, doors are locked,” the man on the display screen explained. In the background, Samuel could make out a familiar sound. He had heard the same dull clinking four years ago when the Incartu was trying to force its way onto the bridge. The man’s voice was drowned out by static for a few seconds before it returned, “have to–{static}–through machinery. Incar–{static},” the voice stopped for several seconds and the interference subsided, “They’re outside. We’ve run out of ammunition. You’ll need to take the incinerator bullets on the ra—{” the voice faded away and the interface went dead.

“Incartu are very vulnerable to fire.” Samuel began removing the incinerator magazines from the ammunition rack. “We can’t risk a flamethrower; this station is full of combustible objects. This will have to do.” He passed the ammo to the rest of the team. He then ejected an unspent clip from his assault rifle and replaced it with an incinerator clip. Purple sector was on the opposite side of the station, and they would have to cross one of its central spokes to get there.

“I’ll go first,” Night crouched to the side of the secured entrance to the maintenance bridge. Ankur took the other side.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Slash approached the door and put in a coded entry. “1, 2, 3. Code accepted, stand clear while the door opens,” droned the computer system. Slash jumped backwards, Night rolled through the opening, and Ankur stepped out and fanned the room with his sub machineguns.

‹ Ankur ›“Clear.”

‹ Samuel ›“I’ve been fighting these things for a long time. When you are dealing with Incartu, you never say ‘clear’ until you’ve detonated the place.”

‹ Slash ›“Agreed. Needless to say, this is an excellent place for an ambush.” Slash whispered into his helmet mike, “Jason, take the rear. Try and cover Night with your sniper rifle.”

‹ Jasonv “There’s no such thing as a sniper rifle. This is called a scope rifle. Anything with a scope can snipe; it’s the marksmen who wield them that are referred to as snipers.”

‹ Shervin › “Whatever. Just watch Night’s back.”

The door back to yellow sector closed with a pneumatic hiss, cutting off the welcome light from the briefing room. It was better than leaving it open. No Incartu would be able to break down the reinforced metal access door.

‹ Ankur › “I wonder what all this stuff does anyway. Life–support, stabilization, power generation… There are only so many machines one ship could possible need.”

‹ Slash › “A lot of this stuff is damaged.” Slash shone his suit light down onto the machinery. “The generators have some dents and scratches, the relays are almost completely slashed, but they haven’t touched the life support systems.”

‹ Ankur › “Yeah, lucky that crewman could find a circuit to the yellow briefing room. Even luckier that the oxygen circulators are still running,”

‹ Slash › “No matter of luck at all, this damage is too precise. They knew exactly which systems they wanted down and which ones they wanted to keep. The clever devils didn’t want to suffocate.”

Hhhreashraaa

‹ Shervin › “It’s from purple sector, we have to move quickly.”

‹ Samuel › “Careful, the Incartu have a way of throwing their voices around.”

Hhhrareahooo

‹ Shervin › “It could be anywhere then.”

‹ Jason › “What the—,”

There was a crash further back on the walkway.

‹ Slash › “They’re flanking us! Truss, Shervin, help Jason with the rear. Everyone else maintain position. We can’t risk running on such a narrow platform.”

Samuel followed Shervin down the catwalk. A few meters away, their suit lights fell upon the crouched figure of an Incartu. It held Jason’s head with one of its feet; the body had been tossed down amongst the machines.

Shervin raised his gun, a short wide barreled pistol designed to shoot multiple burst fire rounds. The Incartu dashed forward with incredible speed, but the distance was too great for it to make a jump. On its head, Samuel could make out a line of spiky, coarse hair. It was another of the mutations.

Shervin opened fire, his gun flashing brightly against the shadow covered metal. The Incartu kept on going as if nothing had happened and leapt over Shervin, snaring his face on the way down. There was a sickening crack, and Shervin tumbled off of the railing.

It was at pointblank range now, and Samuel had no trouble with accuracy. He pulled the trigger of his rifle and steadied it as spent shells jettisoned out. The Incartu reared up on its hind legs and fixed him with a maniacal stare. No bullet holes, no bleeding, nothing.

The creature jumped into the air and grabbed at Samuel’s chest. Bursts erupted from one of the other Marines, but still the Incartu took no damage.

“Goobii!” The Incartu emitted a cry that might have been a garbled farewell. Was it invincible? Sam brought his rifle around hard, clubbing it against the creature’s slim torso. It relinquished its grip, falling prone on the catwalk. Samuel pulled out the pistol from his side holster and fired an armor–piercing round through its skull.

‹ Slash › “Truss, you OK?”

Samuel scanned quickly the body at his feet. Not the Prodigy. It was still out there somewhere.

‹ Ankur › “Incoming!”

There was another thud, then the accompanying cry of an Incartu. Ankur had been knocked over; another of the Incartu had landed upon him. Samuel looked down at his assault rifle and suddenly noticed the incinerator magazine. After all of those incinerator shots, the machines below would have caught aflame from shrapnel. He tossed down the gun and reached for the old Federation carbine still strapped to his shoulder.

Once again, a burst of light accompanied the gunshot. The Incartu continued tearing through Ankur’s helmet without heeding the attack. Unlike the previous gunshots, however, a real bullet accompanied this one.

‹ Samue ›“The incinerators are blanks! Switch to standard ammo!”

As another Incartu crashed onto the walkway, the soldiers frantically ejected and replaced magazines.

Hhhreashra

“Lets try it with real bullets this time,” Ankur shouted as he opened fire with his dual SMGs. After exhausting his ammo, he looked around in confusion. “Are the regular rounds duds too?”

The Incartu swung back up from under the platform and kicked off of the rail with its legs. It spiraled and came howling down back at Ankur, who was now out of both regular and incinerator shots. A bullet caught it in the side of the head and it slumped off.

Night lowered his mid–caliber handgun.

‹ Night › “The bullets are fine, you just forgot to aim.”

Hhhrashreasr

Once again, Samuel heard the howling of the Incartu. In seconds, he expected to hear a crash as it collided with one of the soldiers. Instead, it continued howling and crashed into the ground.

‹ Slash ›“What was that?”

‹ Ankur › “It missed.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Ankur scanned the walkway tentatively before speaking into his mike. “Clear?”

Once again, Slash entered the combination for the robotic doorway. “1, 2, 3. Code accepted.”

“Time to meet the survivors,” Ankur said. He stopped talking abruptly when Slash restored the lighting to the room. Bodies, most of them headless, were strewn across the floor.

“Smells worse than the elevator,” commented Night.

“Where’s the captain, the man we spoke with?” Slash opened a door to the bunking area.

“He’s right here.” Samuel flipped over a pilot’s body, head still attached. He had been lying face down on the interface screen.

“This the guy we talked to earlier?”

“No,” Samuel turned the face back down, “that was the Prodigy. The Incartu we fought back on the maintenance bridge could speak too. The new breed has definitely reached human intelligence. Who knows, maybe they have surpassed it.”

“It can’t be far now, we can catch it if we move quickly.” Night drew a large combat knife from a sheath on his hip.

“No, that’s the last thing we want to do. We can’t afford to walk into any more traps. We can’t be too predictable.” Slash had retrieved a pouch of ammo from one of the bodies.

“What about this Prodigy? If it thinks like a human, wouldn’t that make it predictable too?” The other three turned to Ankur. “Think. This guy is above mindless killing. What are his objectives? What are his strategies?”

Samuel thought for a moment. “The rift drive, that must be it. If the Incartu on BTR ever get too out of hand, the Democracy could nuke them. Better yet, they could just leave the system entirely and let the Incartu kill themselves. What if the Incartu could leave the system too? They’d only need a handful of ships; their space–amphibious troops would be nearly invincible.”

Slash brought up the most recent map on one of the computers. “So the question is how he’ll get it. Either he goes to the command bridge and learns how to fly this crate in about thirty minutes, or he goes down to engine itself and gets a few of his friends to literally rip out the engine itself. They could do it; the rift field is harmless when the engine is off.”

“Don’t underestimate him.” Samuel answered, “We know he can learn very fast. Thirty minutes, and he’ll have this station en route to the surface, probably somewhere with heavy Incartu presence.”

“We split up then,” Night hissed. “He’s lost the surprise and the foreplay, on even ground just two of us could overpower him.”

“I’m taking the bridge.” Slash had already entered his access code into the next doorway. “If he’s activated auto–pilot, I’ll at least know enough about the computers to turn it off.”

“I’ll go with Slash. One last thing before we leave though.” Ankur turned back to the other three soldiers.

“Yes?” Night stopped halfway through the blue sector hatch.

“Check the ammo; we’d be a pretty sad example of humanity’s best if we fell for that trick twice.”

All of them took turns discharging their weapons into a wall.

“Let’s go then.” Samuel fed a fresh clip into his rifle. As Night said, “we have the advantage now.”

Slash and Ankur took the maintenance bridge back to yellow sector. They had decided they would go around the outer edge of the station to avoid any traps the Prodigy might have used to cover his trail. Night and Samuel made their way to blue sector.

“The damage isn’t as bad here,” Samuel surveyed the deserted hallway.

“How they came up with this shade of blue is beyond my comprehension,” commented Night.

“Check the area first, and don’t forget to look up.” Samuel scanned the ceiling for threats. The blue paneling was very reassuring after the twisted pipes in white and yellow sectors. The lighting here was better too, most of the rectangular fluorescents along the ceiling were still working.

What were the Incartu doing up here anyway? Under normal circumstances, a creature such as the Prodigy would not risk itself going into space. What had happened underground that made the Incartu so desperate to get off of the planet?

There was a flash of movement at the end of the adjacent hallway. Samuel jolted back and peered carefully around the side. The outline of the Incartu was distant; it seemed to be utilizing the briefing room as the creature in yellow sector had.

“One of them is down the hall.” Samuel turned back to Night. Night shrugged. Samuel removed a pair of binoculars from his pack and turned back around the corner.

“It doesn’t seem to notice us. No hair on this one, it’s another one of the normal Incartu. Pity we don’t have Jason here, we could sure use a sniper, eh Night?”

There was no response. Of course, Night very rarely responded.

“I think I can probably take it out in one shot with the carbine…”

A figure darted from the other end of the briefing room and leapt onto the Incartu.

Hhrroarars

The Incartu howled in apparent confusion. Night removed his knife from the creature’s back and turned towards Sam.

“How did you..? –– Oh never mind.”

Samuel pocketed the binoculars and continued down the hall.

“He was talking to one of the boss Incartu when I pounced on him. Couldn’t really tell what he was saying, but it’s clear that they’re setting something up.”

“See if you can reach Peldrov on the bridge.”

Night fiddled with the interface controls. “Most of it’s fried. They only left the bare minimum of communications channels.”

“Night, that you?” a voice crackled from the interface. “This is Ankur at the bridge control.”

Night adjusted the display for better reception, “How do I know that’s not just Ankur’s head propped up against the COM screen?”

“You’ve been craving chicken since you boarded the shuttle yesterday.”

Night considered for a moment, and then nodded. Samuel approached the display, “I’m here.”

“Slash says that it launched a shuttle from one of the bays, course set for BTR’s second moon. He’s got enough supplies to last for years, and enough fuel left to make a launch back to the surface.”

Slash’s voice called from the distance on the other end. “I’m going to anti–craft missiles. The shuttle has almost no evasive mechanics, there’s no way even our little genius could manage to dodge a pair of heat–seekers.&3821;

“He wouldn’t lose so easily.” Samuel didn’t know why, but he was beginning to feel frantic. “He doesn’t have the engine, and he must know about the missiles. How far is it to the silos?”

“Slash can definitely make it if he runs.”

“It’s a diversion, it has to be.” Where was he? If he had automated a shuttle, he would have to have been at the bridge or the vehicle bay. Both were far away from the rift drive. “He already has it.”

“What?”

It was a mad conclusion, but nothing else made sense, “He’s been using this chase just to keep us occupied. The other Incartu must have removed and ejected the actual engine hours ago.”

“So we failed? There’s no way to keep the Incartu from going interplanetary now.”

“There’s one way left. The field is so complex, only a handful of the most brilliant scientists understand completely how it works. The Prodigy must know he is intelligent enough to figure it out, but none of the other Incartu could come anywhere close. If we kill him here, before he can leave this station, the Incartu will never learn the secrets of rift travel.”

“You do not understand everything human.” The rasping voice joined into the conversation. “I would be a liar to call you my friends, but I believe we may have mutual interests.”

Samuel turned away from the COM.

“Night, track him down. I’ll keep him busy.”

“There is only one reason we are not friends,” the voice said, “and that is that we are trying to kill each other.”

“How insightful,” muttered Ankur.

“I have no time for human sarcasm; the fate of many races is at stake.”

“I fear your outlook differs from my own. I see a space station full of dead people. No stretch of perspective will make that appear as a peaceful gesture.” Samuel took his time with elegant speech, knowing that it would take even an assassin like Night a long time to find his target in such a large vessel.

“From the perspective of your species, the losses were small. Your government cares much more about this structure than it does the lives aboard.”

That was true, Samuel thought… Why was he listening to it? The important thing here was to keep the Prodigy talking.

“Night is looking for a chicken sandwich, help him,” muttered Sam. Apparently understanding the message, Ankur switched off his interface and left the bridge.

“I am willing to kill you, not out of a thirst for blood. I am not a killer; all sacrifices I have made in my short life are for the cause of greater peace.”

“You are preaching to the wrong man, then. You forget, I’m a soldier first and a philosopher second.”

“Fine, soldier, I’ll explain the military perspective. There are two reasons why I am doing this. The first is that the humans have effectively imprisoned us on our own planet. In order to survive, it is necessary to escape this imprisonment. I don’t expect you to care about that. The second reason is that back on the planet, the humans have started a chain of events that could lead to the annihilation of both our races.”

“There is only one reason why I don’t believe you. On the whole, it probably boils down to the fact that you’re still trying to kill me.”

The Prodigy’s interface cut off. Samuel stared at the blank field of static. He couldn’t help it; he was considering the Incartu’s words. He had always had that weakness as a soldier, he thought too much.

There was a ringing noise further down the hall. It took a moment to recognize the sound of the elevator opening. There was scampering, then a gunshot. The hallway went dark.

Night abruptly stopped humming. He was close to his quarry. Night could tell when he was near enemies, even those as illusive as the Incartu he was creeping up on.

‹ Ankur › “Night,” his short–range COM emitted a low whisper.

‹ Night › “Copy Ankur.”

‹ Ankur › “The chicken sandwich is in the launch bay ahead,”

‹ Night › “Chicken sandwich?”

‹ Ankur › “Hey, Truss made up the codeword.”

‹ Night › “I’m hungry.”

Night crawled up a vent and emerged at an observation area above the bay.

‹ Night › “I can’t get a clear shot like this, too many obstacles in the way. Try to flush him out, and don’t bother looking up.”

Night barely heard the hiss of the door opening below. He carefully removed a pane from the window and crept out onto the ceiling riggings. Below him, Ankur was no doubt traversing the tangled wrecks of a few dismantled shuttles. Night swung onto a pipe and slithered towards the center of the room. Even if the Incartu looked up for some reason, he wouldn’t see a shadow.

The electricity flickered and waned. Every few moments there would be a flash, then complete darkness. Samuel ducked back against the corner of the interface. He thought about turning on the suit flashlight, but decided against it. With the lights out, it would make him a glowering beacon of a target.

More scampering. How many of them? There was a gentle hiss from the hall to the right. Samuel almost fired in the direction of the sound, but caught himself. Incartu were masters of acoustics, they could project sounds in any direction.

The elevator. He hadn’t heard the doors close. Samuel gripped the barrel of his assault rifle. Perspiration was beginning to seep through the synthetic cloth of his gloves. The Incartu were closer, he could make out at least three voices. The lights had given out completely. With the next sporadic surge of electricity, they would pinpoint him. There was a gentle hum as the elevator mechanism began to close again. Sam rose and charged into the hallway.

Hhhihherokkak

Behind him. No wait, it wasn’t behind him. Anywhere. Everywhere. There was a slight shifting in the shadows, something moving swiftly forward. Samuel pulled the trigger of his rifle and sent a blast of hollow–tipped shells into the creature’s thorax. There was another howl. Sam jumped sideways through the closing elevator doors as a rush of electricity lit the corridor. He made out two more Incartu scampering across the opposite wall.

The doors shut solidly. There was a dull clang as the Incartu outside slammed their talons uselessly against the door. One of them had had a gun… After everything else, this last didn’t really sink in as much of a surprise. Sam pressed the button for the upper level.

“Show me your face.” Ankur edged his way around what must have been the fifteenth crate he had ducked behind in the last two hours. He was being careful, a trick he hadn’t learned from his shock trooper training. In fact, shock troopers usually didn’t crouch behind anything unless ten or more enemies were firing upon them.

When you were facing Incartu, you learned caution very quickly.

“If you insist on hiding, I’ll just have to open this whole bay up into the vacuum.” All airlocks were designed to cycle before opening, but what did this creature know about airlocks? Ankur edged along his sixteenth crate.

“Come out, come out!”

An object tore through the air inches in front of Ankur’s face and lodged itself into crate number 15. Ankur crouched back again. A haughty shock trooper would distract enemies by taunting them. By this time, though, he had lost all zest for distracting comments. He raised both of his SMGs and checked the ammo: two full magazines of depleted uranium.

A moment of silence, which a normal ST would fill with some abusive comment. Ankur spun around the crate and opened fire. He was somewhat surprised to find that his enemy was still waiting for him; maybe it wasn’t so smart after all.

Hrreeash

The howl seemed somehow subtler than that of the other beasts, but it echoed grandly from the cavernous vehicle bay. The creature dropped down, then slid to the side. Ankur followed too slowly and it managed to leap high into the air. Another figure plummeted down and collided with the Prodigy at the peak of its arc.

“I was starting to wonder if you had left me to go eat!” Ankur shouted as Night and the Incartu both crashed into the ground. Night landed on top and proceeded to wrestle his knife towards the Prodigy’s throat.

“A terminaal misstaaake, humaan,” The two legs flipped upwards and grabbed the assassin by the back of his head. The Prodigy hissed menacingly and flipped Night into the wreckage of a shuttle. Ankur raised an SMG and tightened his grip on the trigger. The alien looked once and jammed Night’s knife into the barrel of Ankur’s weapon. Ankur ducked a pair of kicks then pulled out his assault rifle in time to take a few shots at the fleeing creature, but no impacts.

Samuel went over the previous events in his head. He recalled the video feed from the command deck and the ambush on the maintenance bridge. He was dealing with a creature that was smarter and faster than any enemy he had faced before.

He needed to figure out where this creature was going. Before he could do that, he had to figure out where he was going. The elevator came to a halt. Samuel readied his assault rifle. Anything that tried to rush him would be eating a magazine of automatic gunfire.

The door opened with a slight clang. Nothing was moving on the landing. There was a man in combat armor, headless, collapsed against the far wall. In his hand was a rifle, the same design Samuel was holding. Sam grimaced.

The walls in this area were ridden with numerous bullet holes. Samuel took a sniff of the air in the corridor. There was an odor of decay, but no smoke. The battle here had taken place a long time ago.

Sam turned left and walked cautiously. The lights in this area were still on, but the ceiling was bare. There were plenty of ready hiding places for Incartu. He passed two more disabled marines. One of them was clutching a grenade in his hand, the pin still attached. Sam took it, clipping it to his own belt. He felt better not leaving explosives lying on the ground.

There was an airlock built into the outside wall. The lock was open, on the other side was the dark interior of a shuttle. He was on the docking side then. The vehicle bay, where Night had been heading, wasn’t far from here.

Samuel shined his flashlight through the airlock. No hostiles visible in the shuttle. There were two human bodies, clad in pilot’s uniform, dangling out of the launch chairs. Just as he was about to turn back into the hallway, Sam noticed the orange text on the ship’s bulkhead.

“Meledros Mining Corporation: BTR.”

This was how the Incartu had gotten aboard. Samuel quickly flashed his suit light around the cabin. The frontal display screen was still crackling slightly. He stepped inside.

‹ Samuel ›“I’ve found the Meledros shuttle. Is anyone reading this frequency?”

There was no response. The short–range communicator wasn’t getting through the walls of the vehicle bay below. Samuel walked up to the controls of the shuttle and brought up the flight log. As the general had said, the ship had launched less than five days ago. The trip to the space station had taken a little under two days. There was an unsent transmission logged halfway through the second day. After that, there were no more recordings. Sam hung the sling of his assault rifle over his shoulders and bent down over the keyboard. He brought up the last message. The screen lit up to display the still living face of the Meledros pilot. Samuel glanced back at the seat behind him. The pilot’s body was still there, but his head wasn’t.

“This is MMC transport delta, requesting emergency clearance to dock with the democracy space station Speculation. Our installation on the surface has been overrun. As far as we know, this shuttle contains the only survivors.”

“The Incartu have always been a present threat underground, but never before have they gotten past the outer seals. Our excavations have been highly successful in the deeper regions. There is an incredible vein of radioactive ores, apparent in greater quantities than we’ve ever seen on any settled planet.”

As the pilot spoke, a collage of archived pictures passed across the screen. There was some very powerful looking mining equipment, and a very deep looking hole. Around it was an enormous underground enclosure. Based on the footage, the facility had been several square kilometers in size. How could the democracy have kept this big a secret?

“We began to observe variations in the native flora and fauna about a month ago, when we first hit the massive vein of ores. We tightened the perimeter and kept digging. Two weeks ago, the excavators uncovered something truly strange…”

The topic of the pictures changed, displaying a deep hole that had been hollowed out by some sort of huge mechanical drill. A ways down, the hole opened up into some sort of cavern. The light shed by the camera equipment did not reach the far walls of the cavern, which was likely larger than the installation above.

“At first, this region did not interest us, since the radioactive ore here was more diluted than the vein above. Further exploration, however, produced some highly interesting finds.” Samuel watched as the camera angle descended into the seemingly edgeless cavern. On the bottom there were rocky outcroppings. Jutting from the rocks there was a chalking glint. There was a closer shot of the rocks. It was bone. There were hundreds, thousands of skeletons strewn across the bottom of the cavern.

Onscreen, the camera began to rock. There was an ominous hiss of air—which sounded almost like a gust of wind—from the underground cavern. Something came up from the darkness. There was a cry from whoever was holding the camera, and then the angle suddenly plunged down to the rocks below. The footage ended with a crash.

“We don’t know what to make of this footage,” said the pilot, “the Incartu attacked before we had a chance to finish excavating the site. They hit us with things we’ve never seen before.”

There were clips from a chaotic battle. Most of the pictures looked as though they had been shot in retreat. The Incartu had gotten through two of the west access gates. The garrison had been armed with Marines, shock troopers, and vehicles. In one picture, he thought he saw a Shilom tank. It didn’t appear that anything could stop these creatures.

“We beat them to the starport. The military held the inner facilities bravely, but they are probably all dead by now. Transmit these recordings to the fleet command as soon as possible. We may be able to retake the facility before the Incartu do too much damage to the equipment.”

Damage to the equipment? There probably had been thousands of troops garrisoned there. That could have been him eight or nine years ago. The pilot was back onscreen now. He didn’t look too troubled. He didn’t know, of course. Samuel shuddered as an Incartu crawled out of the ventilation onscreen. It made no sound and then… Hhhraaaeshk!!! The rush. The breath caught in the man’s throat before he could muster a scream. Sam looked away from the screen as the pilot was torn apart.

That was when he saw it. The Incartu was just a few feet away from him. Samuel jumped backward as it lunged, bringing his rifle up reflexively. He gave it a short burst, the creature was knocked back into the bulkhead by the blast. Red. Incartu bled the same color as humans.

Sam got up. He had to move, there was no guessing what might have heard the gunshots.

‹ Ankur ›“Truss, Slash! Night and I found the Prodigy in the vehicle bay. He’s heading back to the docking level. Anyone reading?”

‹ Samuel ›“I’m already at the docks, which direction is he coming from?”

‹ Ankur ›“He’s gone up the ventilation.”

‹ Samuel ›“Meet me up here. I’m going to cut him off.”

Sam steadied his grip on the carbine. The Federation design elements gave it a different feel from his familiar assault weapon.

The Prodigy’s escape route would put it 50 feet further down the hallway. It would have to cross through that hallway to get to the docks. When it did, Sam would try his hand at sniping.

He barely heard it until it came hurtling out of the wall. It was far enough away, but the lighting was good. He aligned the scope on the Incartu’s head. It was standing perfectly still. One of its legs groped at a pouch on its back. The head remained steady, peering about curiously.

Samuel was suddenly impacted on his right shoulder. The force of the object knocked him onto his side. He tried to right himself and his upper arm began to throb. The Prodigy had somehow slipped out one of his projectiles without Samuel noticing. Samuel stopped moving and heard the soft clinking of claw on metal. He pulled out his sidearm as the Incartu vaulted over him.

Sam got a shot off while the creature was in midair. The pistol was still loaded with armor–piercing rounds, and Incartu flesh was no thicker than a human’s.

It tumbled to the side, clutching one of its legs with the other. For a moment, Sam was honestly surprised to see it wounded. Somehow, he hadn’t expected the Prodigy to bleed.

“Don’t, human. Raise the weapon, and you lose the other arm.”

There was a pneumatic hissing from across the hall.

‹ Slash › “You wouldn’t believe what was waiting in missile control—” Slash stopped. The Prodigy lunged.

Hrraarsh!

Slash fired a shotgun blast. The Prodigy, no longer flatfooted, dodged lithely. It was on Slash one moment later, and had disabled him in perhaps two more.

“Slash, are you alright?” Samuel regained his footing and dashed to the man’s side.

“Broken, I think my neck’s broken.”

Samuel examined the injury; Slash was lucky he could still breathe.

“Don’t move, I’m going to find a brace.”

“Backpack, second compartment. Shervin’s medical kit,”

Samuel fished out the box and opened it. Inside, he found the required materials for a simple brace. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

When he was finished, Sam put the kit next to Slash.

“Anything else you need is in there.”

“Truss, could you get me my gun? Lay it in my right hand, just in case the Incartu come back.”

Samuel retrieved the shotgun and rested the butt in Slash’s palm.

“What are you waiting for? Go kill the bastard.”

‹ Samuel𘊺“Where is he now?” Samuel spoke into the COM interface.

𘊹Ankur𘊺“Night has him in the starboard airlock. He says he’s got a suit and is about to take it EVA. The alien is going out with him.”

‹ Samuel ›“You?”

‹ Ankur ›“ I’m meeting him on the hull. He might need help getting back in. Besides, the vacuum is one place the Incartu can’t follow us.”

In most cases, Samuel would have avoided going EVA if he could. As it was now, the vacuum was probably less dangerous than the interior of the space station.

“Cycling airlocks, you have twenty seconds to adjust EVA suits before vacuum.”

“Really,” Night answered the computer, “do you think anyone would be dumb enough to forget part of their suit?”

He glanced down at his hands and remembered that he had removed his right glove to type in a manual override on the lock systems.

“Not a word about this on the records,” he muttered to himself, as he reached down to the table where he had left his glove. Nothing. He turned around. The Prodigy was waving at him from across the airlock. He squinted through the polarized helmet. It was wearing a spacesuit, and it was waving his right glove.

“Cycling has commenced. Complete depressurization in five seconds.”

Night’s final exclamation was lost to the vacuum.

‹ Samuel › “I’ve forgotten what it was like to cling to the hull of a ship in null G.”

‹ Ankur › “Really?”

‹ Samuel › “I miss not remembering.”

The two were on different sides of the space station, but the intricate web of relays along the hull transmitted their messages back and forth. They had checked most of the airlocks, but no sign of Night.

‹ Ankur › “I was once with a space/amphibious unit. After flinging yourself through space at an enemy warship a half a mile away, clinging to a hull doesn’t seem too bad.”

Samuel paused, trying not to think about space/amphibious forces. “So, what are you going to do with your newfound fame and the down payment that comes with it?”

‹ Ankur › “I think I’ll get a nice house in the frontier systems. I’ll marry me some frontier girl, and live in luxury until my retirement wears off. What about you?”

‹ Samuel › “I’m going to get as far away from this place as I can. Sure, we killed the Prodigy before he could figure out the rift drive, but I’ll feel more comfortable with several light–years between me and BTR.”

‹ Ankur › “Amen to that. Hey, I think I see Night up ahead.”

‹ Samuel › “I’m at the starboard airlock. Get Night back into the station, I’ll check the rest of the hull for any sort of damage.”

‹ Ankur › “Make it back soon, I think Night is injured. He’s hunched over badly and he’s not answering my transmissions.”

‹ Samuel › “Copy, I’m just examining a body. Some poor worker must have been EVA when the Incartu took over. Probably got locked outside and ran out of air.”

Samuel turned over the suit, which was still clinging magnetically to the hull, “Ankur! Night’s dead!”

‹ Prodigy › “How observant.”

‹ Ankur › “I’ve got it. The suit has a gun in the side holster!” There was a crash from the COM, then silence. Samuel ran across the hull as quickly as he could with his magnetized boots. Readouts from Ankur’s suit indicated he was still breathing.

‹ Prodigy › “Now, soldier, we can perhaps have a talk before we kill each other?”

Four weeks later, Samuel Truss sat at desk in front of a projection screen, receiving his debriefing.

“I am the first of many. I am the dominant species,” the voice was a low rasp. Samuel had heard this recording too many times since his return from Speculation. On the screen was the image of a misshapen spacesuit. The Prodigy’s glittering eyes were barely visible behind the visor.

“I have the gun.”

There was a gunshot, then the Prodigy spiraled dramatically into the gravity well of the moon. The space station had been in low enough orbit to pick up gravity, so once the Prodigy lost its grip it had nowhere to go but down.

“And you’re sure you hit him with an incinerator round?” asked the officer.

“Yes. The shrapnel wouldn’t ignite in vacuum, but the impact did the trick.” The gunshot wouldn’t have made noise in vacuum either. That was just an effect added by propagandists. The only way to tell a gun had even been fired was the flash of light.

“And why did you turn off the sound recorder prior to engagement with the Prodigy?”

“I wanted to save some tape for the Meledros recording.”

“I see.” The officer looked content, but it was hard to tell. “And you turned it back on so we could hear your farewell bravado?”

Samuel nodded, pretending to be humbled. The recording stopped.

“This footage hits the media in four hours,” the officer said, shrugging. He extended a hand; Samuel shook it. “Congratulations Truss, you’re a hero.”

The officer went on to talk about the awards for saving two of his fellow soldiers, and for keeping to the mission under extreme circumstances. He spoke a few sentences on the honorable deaths of Jason, Night, and Shervin.

That was it. No more mention of the Incartu, no more mention of Meledros Mining Corporation. The whole thing had been a fluke, but the Solar Democracy had once again saved the day. No doubt, mining on BTR would resume within a month. Samuel scowled inwardly as he rose and walked to the door. The Democracy would keep digging, and eventually it would find something it didn’t like. When that happened, humanity wouldn’t have a chance alone.

Fortunately for humanity, Samuel Truss had made different arrangements.