Dead Space Martyr Part 28

"Now, Professor," he said. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about."

"No," he said, "you don't understand."

There were other people in the hall now, people behind him, watching, puzzled.

"All I want is to see it," he pleaded to them.

"What's wrong with his arm?" someone behind him asked.

The arm was twisted now, his hand facing backward as if it had been cut off and flipped over, then reconnected. It was not just in his arm now, but in his shoulder and chest, too, everything changing.

He tried to speak, and it came out as a deep retching sound. The alarms were still going off. He took a step forward, and now the guard was shouting. He held his arm out in front of him and they shrank back, moving slowly out of the way. I'll shoot! I'll shoot! I'll shoot! I'll shoot! one was yelling, but he didn't shoot. Guthe was at the door now, swiping his card. A bullet thudded into his leg, but it didn't matter, he hardly felt it. And then the door opened and he fell in. one was yelling, but he didn't shoot. Guthe was at the door now, swiping his card. A bullet thudded into his leg, but it didn't matter, he hardly felt it. And then the door opened and he fell in.

The chamber was empty except for him and the Marker. He moved toward it, his injured leg suddenly giving out underneath him. He pulled himself along on his knees until he could touch it.

Whatever was happening in his arm seemed to have stopped. It wasn't getting better, but it wasn't getting worse. The Marker was helping. The Marker was stopping it. He breathed a sigh of relief, then winced from the stabbing pain in his leg.

He would stay here, protected by the Marker. Once he figured out what had happened, he could put his team to work helping him to get better. If worse came to worst, he would have the arm amputated.

The alarm stopped and he found he could think better. He would have someone move his laboratory down here and would continue his work. He moved his leg, winced from the pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to one side opening. He turned, recognized one of the leaders, the man who ran the guards, the one with the brutal face. What was his name again? Ah, yes, Krax. He was just the one to help move his lab. And he had brought others with him, lots of men, healthy strapping lads. They could all help.

He was just opening his mouth to speak when Krax lifted a pistol and shot him through the forehead.

"That wasn't necessary," said Markoff from behind him.

"Funny," said Krax. "You never really struck me as the squeamish type."

"I'm not," Markoff said. "But his condition was worth investigating while he was still alive."

Krax shrugged.

Markoff gave him a cool look. "Give them the body to examine. And watch your step," he said. "Don't start a.s.suming you're not expendable. You're more expendable now than you were ten minutes ago." He turned on his heel and left.

Krax watched him go, feeling at once a little contemptuous and a little scared, and then started out the door himself.

"Take the body," he said to the guards. "Carry it to one of the labs and leave it there." He looked at the crowd of researchers. "Which of you have dissection experience?" he asked. Nearly all of them raised their hands. He singled out three of them at random. "Take a closer look at it and tell me what was happening to him." And then he pushed through the already dispersing crowd and left.

56 Guthe's body started changing shortly after the guards bundled it onto a stretcher and carried it away, but as it was hidden beneath a sheet, they didn't notice. There were strange sounds coming from it, popping and crackling sounds, which they just took for the sounds of strain in the stretcher or the scuffling of their boots in the pa.s.sageway.

They took it to one of the labs and slid it onto the table, the sheet still on top of it. The three dissectors had followed them at a distance, whispering, holding on to their icons. They filed into the room as the guards left.

"We should contact Field," the first of them said. "He'll want to know."

One of the others nodded. "I'll contact him," he said, and activated the room's comlink.

A strange, wet sound came from under the sheet, followed by a snap, like a bone breaking. The sheet fluttered.

"What's that?" asked one.

"Just the body settling," claimed another.

"It didn't sound that way to me," said the first.

"h.e.l.lo, Field?" said the third into the comlink. Field's tired face appeared on the holovid.

"Hideki," he said. "Why are you calling me so late? What's wrong?"

Another crack came from the sheet, even louder this time. The shape underneath it had changed noticeably.

"What was that?" asked Field.

"Just a minute," said Hideki.

"That's more than a body settling," said one of the others.

"You're right," said the third.

Slowly, they moved forward. One of them reached out, tugged the sheet off, let it fall to the floor.

What lay beneath hardly looked human anymore. The head was still there, but was now embedded in a curtain of flesh, some deformation of what had once been the shoulders. It was animate, moving slightly, what was left of its chest heaving up and down with rapid movements. The legs had atrophied and the arms had lengthened. The body had flatted and ribs and skin seemed to have spread out to create a winglike structure between the wrist and what was left of the ankle, like the body of a manta ray. It was an unhealthy, morbid color. The eyes were sunken in and had a strange gleam to them.

"Professor Field, are you seeing this?" asked Hideki.

"What is it?" said Field.

"Oh my G.o.d," said one of the other two.

There was another cracking noise, and the body changed further, what was left of the face receding, becoming lost except for the eyes and the mouth, which was now little more than a hole. It split open at the end, dissolving there into a ma.s.s of tentacles or antennae now, almost insectoid. The hands and feet shriveled, and hooks of bone sprouted in their place. It made a shrieking sound and began to struggle.

Field shouted at them to run. The alarm started to sound again. Professor Hideki Is.h.i.+mura fled, his only thought being to get as far away as quickly as possible.

The other two researchers were paralyzed with fear. "Run!" Field kept yelling at them. "Run!" But they didn't move. The creature flipped itself over. It sat there, draped over the edge of the table, wheezing slightly, body bobbing up and down.

One of the scientists gave a little cry and rushed for the door. The creature leapt, wrapping itself around his shoulders and face, pressing itself wetly against his face. He was screaming, and then the scream was suddenly stifled. Through the vid feed, Field watched as a strange proboscis suddenly sprouted from it with a tearing sound and stabbed through the researcher's eye and deep into his skull. It pulsed, pumping something in.

The other slid into the corner and, moaning, clenched his eyes shut. "Run!" Field screamed again, but he didn't pay any attention.

The first researcher had collapsed in a heap, the creature retracting its proboscis and slowly moving off him. A minute later, maybe even just seconds later, he started to change, his body beginning to shake. As Field watched, his skin changed to a deep lavender, almost purple. There was a wet tearing sound, and blades of bone sprouted from his shoulders, his upper arms suddenly fading into his chest, his forearms and flexing fingers now seeming to sprout from his stomach wall. His hair fell away, his eyes growing hollow, his ears oozing down his face to join with his neck.

Slowly it stood and stumbled toward the lab door.

The last scientist was still crouched in the corner, whimpering slightly. The creature that had been Guthe, clumsy on the floor now, dragged itself awkwardly toward him, and then leapt. Field cut the feed so as not to have to listen to the screams.

57 He was dreaming. He was walking down an empty beach, holding Ada's hand.

Michael? she asked. she asked.

"Yes?" he said.

Do you love me?

He didn't know how to answer, so didn't. He loved Ada; he was sure of that. But he didn't understand how she had changed. How they had moved apart.

I need you to do something for me, she said. she said.

"What?" he said.

I want to have a baby, she said. she said.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

She nodded. That's what I need, That's what I need, she said. she said. It'll bring us closer together. It'll bring us closer together.

And then in the dream there began a faraway insistent sound. At first he hardly noticed it, but it grew louder and louder. Ada was still speaking, almost as if she didn't hear it, but he could no longer hear what she was saying. And then both she and the beach around them began to be eaten away by darkness, slowly coming unraveled, and he woke up.

The sound was still going. Someone had triggered the alarm again. He got out of bed, got quickly dressed, and went out into the hall. It was deserted. In the room behind him, he heard the comlink go live.

"Altman?" it said. "Altman, this is Field. Are you there?"

He went back, switched the visual on. "I'm here," he said.

"Something's gone wrong," Field said. His face was bone white. "I saw it, but can't hardly believe what I saw. It's horrible, absolutely horrible. Get to safety, Altman, as quick as you can."

"Calm down, Field," said Altman. "Tell me what you're talking about."

"It sprouted swords," said Field. "Just had them sprout out of its back like-"

Somewhere in the background came a scream. Field whirled around, and Altman saw he was holding a gun. The vid clicked off.

Down the hall he heard screams. He poked his head out, saw a researcher running toward him.

"What's wrong?" Altman asked. "Wait a minute. Stop!"

But the man kept running. "They're everywhere!" he called back over his shoulder. "You shoot them and they still keep coming at you." And then he was around the corner and gone.

I'm still asleep, Altman thought. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and then opened his eyes again. No, it was still as it had been, more screams and now even the sound of gunfire. Altman thought. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and then opened his eyes again. No, it was still as it had been, more screams and now even the sound of gunfire.

He rushed back into the room and looked around for a weapon. Nothing there. He went out again and down the hall in the direction the man had run, walking very quickly. Rounding a corner, he saw the corridor barricaded by a laboratory table turned on its side. He headed for it, and shots rang out, thunking into the wall beside his face.

"Don't shoot!" he cried, raising his hands above his head. "It's me, Altman."

A chorus of shouts, and the firing stopped. Someone from behind the table waved to him, and he moved to the table and pulled himself over it, down among them.

"Altman," said Showalter. "I'm glad they didn't get you."

"Get me?" said Altman. "What's going on?"

"I don't exactly know," said Showalter, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. "I've only seen one of them, but I wish I hadn't. It was monstrous. It had bone scythes instead of arms and legs and it scuttled like a spider. Its head just hung there, swinging, staring down at the floor, but it seemed to see us anyway. I don't know who it used to be, but you could tell from the remnants of clothing that it used to be someone, that it used to be human. It sure as h.e.l.l isn't human now. Something's gone horribly wrong."

"I gathered that," said Altman. He looked around. One of the other men was someone he vaguely recognized. White, he thought his name was. The third he didn't know.

"Here," said Showalter, and handed him a gun. "Got this off a guard who had his head torn off. Don't know that it'll help much. When you shoot them, they don't seem to die. They just keep coming."

Altman took the weapon. "How many people left alive?" he asked.

Showalter shrugged. "How do I know? The four of us counting you," he said. "Probably a few guards. There's a few others running around."

"Field vided me not long ago, so he's still alive," said Altman. "It must have started down here. Maybe it hasn't made it to the top part of the facility yet, to the part above water."

"Maybe not," said Showalter.

"Vid Field," said Altman. "Tell him to get up there and seal the lock, wait for us on the other side. We'll fight our way up and once we're there, he can let us through."

Showalter pa.s.sed the order along to one of the other two men with him, someone called Peter Fert, who took out his holopod and got to work.

From the far end of the hall came an eerie bellow and then something shuffled around the corner. It stood roughly as tall as a man, but the arms it had looked like the arms of a child. They protruded from its stomach. From its shoulders had sprouted two jointed scythes of bone, like the wings of a featherless bird. Its skin was mottled and seeping, disgusting to look at, and it smelled faintly of rotting meat. It was humanoid, but Altman wouldn't have guessed it had once been human if the tattered uniform of a guard weren't still clinging to its torso.

"Holy s.h.i.+t," whispered Altman.

"Keep trying to contact Field, Fert," said Showalter, keeping his voice low. "We'll hold it off. Oh, and if you can help it, men, try not to send too many bullets into the walls of the pa.s.sage. Last thing we want is to be flooded out."

White, Altman saw, was holding his gun so tight that his knuckles were white.

The thing shuffled slowly in their direction and then stopped dead. It made a grunting sound and then, with a cry, rushed at them.

"Fire!" screamed Showalter.

All three of them fired at once. The shots slowed it a little, but didn't seem to permanently harm it. It just kept coming. Altman aimed carefully for the head and fired three times quickly. At least two of the shots connected-he saw the bursts of flesh and blood as they went in-but the creature continued forward unfazed.

And then it was on them, looming over the barrier. They crouched down and kept firing, trying to keep it at a distance, but with remarkable ease it leaned in through the hail of bullets and plucked up White.

The man screamed and tried to run. The creature's scythes were gouging into White's back, which had already grown b.l.o.o.d.y. It pulled him close like a lover and leaned in to bite his neck.

It was terrible to watch, White flopping like a fish out of water, screaming in a way Altman had heard only once before, when a rabbit had been shot in the head but lived long enough to realize it was desperately hurt. The creature was making a grotesque mumbling sound, drooling as well as biting, and shaking its head so bits of flesh and gore spattered about.

Altman's first impulse was to run. The only reason he didn't was because of a fleeting selfish thought. If I don't kill it, If I don't kill it, he thought, he thought, I'll be next. I'll be next.

He moved as close as he could and put the gun's barrel up against the creature's neck and rattled off four shots. It was enough, at point-blank range, to tear the thing's head mostly off, to get its teeth away from White's neck. But even without the head, the body kept moving.

"Don't these things ever die?" shouted Altman.

Showalter just grunted. He was imitating what Altman had done, holding the pistol at the joint of the scythe. He pulled the trigger and fired and the blast tore it off.

"That's it!" said Altman. "Maim it!" He brought his gun low and shot three times, until the thing's leg collapsed and it tilted to one side and went down, taking White with it. Altman vaulted the barrier and was on top of it. He fired and stomped on its remaining limbs, kept stomping until it was in enough pieces that he didn't think it could do any damage. Even then, he wasn't sure it was dead. He was only sure that it was incapacitated enough that it couldn't hurt him.