The Void

CHAPTER 45

They approached the crater wall, and Alex lowered Morag to the ground. Sophia pulled up beside him. It was now near-pitch darkness at the foot of the cliffs.

“How long?” he asked.

“Twenty-two minutes, seventeen seconds until drop, Captain Hunter… Alex.”

Alex’s brows knitted momentarily, at the familiarity the android used, but then refocused and looked upwards. “We can do this.”

Sophia laid a hand on his arm and turned her head back to the mist. “There is one of the mutated humanoids approaching.” Sophia turned back to him. “It has arrived.”

From the swirling clouds, the monstrous figure lumbered toward them. Alex could see the remains of the Russian uniform, and even with the monstrous visage, he recognized him.

“Zlatan.” He exhaled. “Oh my god.”

“Where is it? I can’t see anything,” Morag whispered.

“I can,” Alex said dismally. The evolutionary process had continued to work on the thing that was once a man. Now, long tendrils dropped from the end of its arms, and overlapping plates made it resemble something more akin to a crustacean than a mammal. Another pair of arms, or perhaps legs, was sprouting from its sides.

Would he — it — always walk upright? Or in the next iteration would it be down on six limbs, burrowing in the mud like some sort of insect or sea creature? He sensed something different this time.

“Would you like me to kill it, Alex?” Sophia asked matter-of-factly.

“No.” Alex then held up a hand to the creature. “Stop there.”

It slowed, and Alex half turned. “I don’t think it came to fight.”

Zlatan slowed in the darkness and then held out one of his arms. The finger things unfurled and waved in the air like feelers, and Alex saw there were lines of spikes on their insides. Those things were made for gripping. Alex readied himself just in case.

Perhaps he had come to claim Morag, or even seek revenge for the deaths of the others. Or just maybe there was still some remnant of humanity within the hulking body and brain that wanted to be saved.

“Nineteen minutes, 0.127 seconds until drop, Alex.” Sophia continued to watch him. “What are your orders?”

Alex kept his eyes on Zlatan, and up close the strange buzzing in his head was being overridden by something being projected by the mutated being. It wanted something. He pushed Morag toward the android. “Sophia, take her up the cliff, and prepare for immediate dust-off. With or without me.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Morag began.

“Alex, I am better able to deal with this threat,” Sophia said.

“I know, but you’ll need time to decon the team, right?” Alex glanced at her.

Sophia was silent for a few seconds, before she answered. “That is correct. I must enact priority contamination protection protocols on all surviving mission members prior to departure.”

Alex expected it. They couldn’t chance taking back any of the biological matter from the crater basin. Zlatan was proof of that.

“Proceed with the order, now.” He turned back to the approaching Morg.

“As you order, Alex.” Sophia’s voice was flat, almost disappointed. The android reached out and gripped Morag’s bicep.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Morag tried to pull away but the vice-like grip of the android would have been impossible to break. “Hey, hey wait…”

“Go,” Alex said sharply, and Sophia responded by leaping at the steep side of the crater wall and sticking. Then she began to drag Morag up in a near run.

Alex approached the monstrous being that towered over him and just stood there as if waiting for him. Alex marveled at its grotesque appearance, and if it wasn’t for its still bipedal shape, he could never have believed it had ever been a human being.

He crossed to within a few feet of the thing that had once been Zlatan. It was impossible to read an expression and tell what it was thinking, as the multiple dark glass eyes sprouting out of its head on stalks were devoid of emotion. They twitched and moved independently of each other, so he bet it could see in many different directions all at once.

Suddenly all the Morg’s eyestalks lined up, directed straight at Alex.

Alex checked his shield, hoping it had recovered from the previous beating, and was rewarded with a green light. He deployed his shield, ready for the attack, and opened his senses to try to determine if there were more of the Morg waiting to ambush him. He knew these creatures were enormously powerful, and one was difficult enough to deal with, more than that and he was as good as dead.

He waited, seconds counted now. He knew it wanted to speak, and if it could, it would have.

“I know you want something. Or want to tell me something.” He continued to wait, counting down the precious seconds.

The massive creature held out its monstrous hand and the tentacle-like fingers unfurled to display a small card. Alex kept his eyes on the beast as he leaned forward, and saw that it was a picture of a woman. She smiled shyly into the camera, had hair cascading to her shoulders, and had on some sort of laboratory smock.

Alex reached for the picture, and the long feelers wrapped around his wrist. Images exploded across his mind — a woman smiling up at him, tending to his wounds, or laughing softly. He saw them sharing intimate moments in a quiet space, and then the love came at him in waves.

The fingers unfurled and Alex looked up to the deformed face. “Your wife or woman?”

There was no neck to nod his head, and no tongue to utter a human word, so all Zlatan could do was stare back at him. After another few seconds, his lumped shoulders shook slightly. He bunched his hand enclosing the picture, and held forth the next hand. This time Alex saw the image chip resting there. Zlatan held out the other hand again, dropping the chip onto the picture.

There came small grunts, clicks and squeals, and Alex knew Zlatan was trying to speak, but there were no human vocal chords anymore, and this was the best he could do.

Alex reached out to take the chip, but the other hand whipped forward and encircled his wrist again in the sharp cable-like tentacles. The strength in the grip was enormous, but all Zlatan did was guide his hand to the picture — he was meant to take that as well.

Alex lifted it and saw there was a name written in cursive writing on the back: Come back to me safely, my love. Rahda.

“This is her; Rahda.” Alex looked up into the deformed face and nodded. “I’ll tell her you were thinking of her.”

Zlatan let his wrist go, and stood staring down at him for a moment more, before its shoulders slumped and he turned away.

Alex gripped the chip and watched the massive thing that had once been a man vanish into the mist. He continued to stare after him as the boiling smoke swallowed all trace of the Russian.

Alex then looked down at the picture again. The people who love us, and who are loved by us, define who and what we are. Perhaps Zlatan knew that the outside world and everything in it was lost to him. But he wanted someone — Rahda — to know that even though he was lost, his love had survived.

He would find her one day and tell her.