Me, My Self and Hal (revised)

Me, My Self and Hal
(Words: 2921)

So I asked myself, What's the best way to die?

Not that I thought I'd get a choice in the matter, but just to take my mind off the large, oozing wound in my thigh.

And the one in my shoulder.  As a matter of fact, there didn't seem to be an inch on my body that wasn't wracked with pain.

And oozing wounds.  There were several of those.  Plasma-gun bursts cauterized flesh, so wounds didn't bleed.  But they oozed – and I hated oozing wounds - just hated 'em.  Mucousy, disgusting things.

There were other people all around me.  Some dead, some not.  I'd take roll call, but first things first.

I fired off two short plasma-bursts at the silhouette that was visible for a split second in the doorway.  I was rewarded by a cry of pain and a sobbing moan. 

Oh, boo-hoo.  What's the matter?  You can dish it out, but you can't take it?

Staggering up from my half-crouch, I crept around the corner of the cryo-tube.  I  jammed the plasma-gun in my belt, and then leaned over and grabbed what jumpsuit material I could see.  I dragged Hal roughly out from underneath the cryo-tube where he was hiding.

"Hal?  Hal!" I hissed.  "Ya gotta run now, buddy."

He looked at me, bewildered.

"Go on," I urged, then pushed him along.  "Go out through the med-lab."

I retrieved the plasma-gun just in time to fire another burst at Jenkins, who'd made the mistake of peering in from the corridor. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Hal stumble away.  He limped in the direction of the med-lab, the only exit not covered by a plasma-gun-wielding lunatic – I mean Jenkins, not me.  I see where you could've been confused.   

Imagine my surprise when the floor moved.  Forbin threw me off his back and scrambled to his feet; he'd been playing dead and doing a good job of it.  Since I was the one with the gun, he hid behind me.  At least I hope that was why he was back there.  I'd heard some rumors, though.

Shhh-ffft!  A plasma blast hit the cryo-tube next to me, and Forbin and I ducked for cover.  Forbin crab-crawled to the med-lab exit, leaving me with the injured  and the dead.  Most had been killed in their cryo-tubes before even waking up.  I guess that wasn't a bad way to go.  But I didn't wanna try it. 

I returned fire through the open door, but Jenkins stayed back out of range.  For one guy, and a navigation-geek at that, Jenkins sure was proficient with a plasma-gun.

Judy leaped from a corner of the room and made a break for the exit.  Jenkins' plasma burst caught her mid-stride and flipped her body through the air.  I saw the surprised look on her face as she watched half her body hurtle one way, while the rest of her went another.

Damn!  I'd liked Judy.

The half of Judy's body still attached to her head landed next to me.  I looked at her frozen, befuddled expression and sympathized.  I'd woken up from cryo-sleep surrounded by the dead bodies of the crew, while Jenkins blasted away.  I had no idea what was going on.

"Hey, Jenkins!  Mind telling me why you're killing everybody?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know." Jenkins' voice boomed out from the corridor and echoed around the cryo-sleep-chamber. 

"Well, yes…that's why I asked." 

Jenkins voice sounded tired and angry.  "Our last jump was out of alignment; we're too close to the planet.  And the engines are scragged – dunno why.  The only way out is the Hopper, and that only takes three.  There are sixteen of us – you do the math."

Well, I thought, looking around at the bodies, there had been sixteen of us.  And I was doing the math and I didn't like the result.  Hal, Forbin, Jenkins and me made four.  Someone had to go, or stay, depending on how you looked at it.  I asked another question, "Why didn't you just leave everyone in cryo?"

"The ship woke everyone up, you idiot!  When the proximity alarm went off."  Jenkins paused, then added in a sly tone, "But it woke me and the Captain up first."

I wondered what had happened to Captain Dunn.  Actually, I didn't want to know.  I'd liked him, too.

Jenkins' voice took on an obsequious whine.  "Just let me into the med-lab for some supplies."  He poked his head past the metal door-frame and continued, "I'll let you come with me…"

I leaned out and replied, "It takes two officers to enable the Hopper – you need my hand-print, anyway."  Then I looked down at the stump where my left hand used to be.

Oh, by the way, I may have forgotten to mention that my left hand seemed to be missing.  I think it was blown off by Jenkins, but I was too foggy from cryo and blood loss to be sure.  Maybe it was lying around here somewhere.  I hoped I could recover it when this was all over.  If I was still alive.  Although, between the gun-fight and the decaying orbit of the ship, that wasn't looking too likely.

Jenkins replied in a smarmy, self-satisfied voice, "No, I don't need you, I just need this."  He stuck his arm out to show me a severed hand in his grasp. 

Well, at least I knew where my hand went.  Damn, new cloned parts cost an arm and a – well, you get the picture.

Jenkins didn't need med-supplies.  I needed friggin' med-supplies.  No, what he needed was to go through the med-lab to get to the entrance to the cargo bay and the Hopper.  Jenkins had cut off my hand because he knew that one person would last longer in the Hopper than three; he was planning a solo flight.  But he hadn't known that I always take a gun with me when I went to sleep.  It's sorta like a teddy-bear. 

Shhh-ffft!  I jerked as I felt my ear burn and smelled burnt hair.

Aiming at the corridor door, I kept my finger on the trigger, blasting non-stop as I backed out of the cryo-sleep-chamber.  I saw the wall of the corridor warp as the metal started to scorch and melt.  As soon as I entered the med-lab, I hit the door-close button, then shot the controls.  That would hold him for a while.  My gun beeped the 'charge-empty' warning.

Shit!  That was just great!  The armory was on the other side of the damned cryo-chamber, past Jenkins.  Jenkins could re-arm, but I was screwed. 

As a long line of expletives grated out my sleep-dry mouth, a tentative voice behind me asked, "Chief Straker?" Hal was standing in the middle of the room, shaking.  "Why is everybody shooting?"

"C'mon, Hal.  Time to go," I said as I herded him out of the lab toward the cargo bay.  I tried to think of something encouraging to say to him.  I'd always thought of Hal as a kid, although physically he was 55 or so.  The Captain had given him a job because they were both veterans of the Antares Conflict.  Hal's war injuries had been extensive.  Most of his physical injuries had been repaired – the med-techs could repair almost anything – but he had never completely recovered from the brain injuries.

"Chief?  Are you alright?  You don't look too good."  Hal put his shoulder under mine and braced me up as we both stagger-shuffled through the dim corridors.  I had to get to the cargo bay before Jenkins blew up the lab door.  There was something in the cargo bay - something no one knew about but me, and if Forbin was there, he was in danger.

I quested for an update about the black presence and by way of an answer, the ice cold slither of its consciousness flashed into my mind for a brief second.

Uh-oh.  It was awake.

I'd become aware of the thing after we'd taken on freight from Xylles.  It had somehow snuck in with the cargo like a stowaway.  I'd planned to get rid of it, honest.  But I'd had a long list of other stuff to do.  Being Shipping Chief was a lot harder than it looked.  Well, all right…truth was I was just goofing off.

So, anyway, it was still in the cargo bay, and apparently no longer dormant.  I didn’t know what it was.  I wasn’t the one with special gifts.  But I knew it was dangerous; even more dangerous than Jenkins.

We rounded the big cargo doors and I saw the Hopper glimmering in the dark on the far side. 

Forbin leaned through the Hopper's hatch and yelled, "Hurry up!  I need a second hand-print!  We'll never get out of here in time!"

Hal looked up at Forbin in surprise and said, "Mr. Forbin, you aren't s'pose to be in here.  Chief Straker says it's off limits."  As he remonstrated Forbin with my standing orders, his feet tangled with mine and we went down in a heap.

"Oh, hell!"  Forbin bounded out of the hatch, and across the deck, to help.  He ignored Hal and reached down to give me a hand-up.  That was when he noticed I didn't have a hand.  "What the hell?  Well, at least you still have one to put on the scanner."  He crinkled the corner of his mouth in a smirk, then his head disappeared in a wet shower of blood.  Belatedly, I heard the hissing whump of a plasma-gun's discharge.  I peered back over my shoulder and saw Jenkins in the middle of the cargo bay entrance.  I felt small wet splatters as a mist of blood descended onto my face.  Forbin's body collapsed to the ground.

Hal moaned in fear and his eyes opened wide as Jenkins walked up.

"Sorry, you little shits, but there's only room for one," Jenkins said as he leveled the gun at me.  In the seconds that followed, everything seemed to happen at once.

I smelled the ammonia odor of piss as Hal lost control of his bladder.  (All right, it could've been me.)  Jenkins' finger tightened on the trigger, and a blubbery mass of inky goo dropped from the ceiling onto him with a thwack.

Jenkins' plasma-gun discharged as he grabbed at the thing smothering his face but his shot went wild.  Hal scrabbled to one side while I rolled to the other. Black tentacles elongated from the creature's body and wrapped around Jenkins.  He spun and danced as he struggled to free himself.  I kept my eye on his gun, and hoped he'd drop it.  The alien's tentacles pulsed, their oily surface rippled as the sinuous strands snaked their way in between Jenkins' arms and legs until they coiled around every part of his body. It was a mucousy, disgusting thing – and you know how I feel about mucousy, disgusting things.

The creature seemed to grow in size, its slimy muscular limbs broadening as it engulfed Jenkins' entire body, gun and all. 

Damn it!  I wanted that gun.  Mine was outta charge and I had to kill the…the…I asked myself what the hell the creature was.  Treyash, came the answer. 

Jenkins lost his footing and thudded onto the hard metal deck.  He writhed and flopped as the treyash completely covered him.  Jenkins' muffled screams rose in volume as the alien began to secrete acid in order to digest him alive.

Well, shit!  I really should've gotten rid of the thing while it was still asleep.  Now that it had tasted blood, it was going to be damn-near unstoppable.

The only thing to do was get Hal, barricade ourselves in the Hopper, and un-dock with the ship as quickly as possible. 

That was my intention, anyway.  But two things went wrong.  One: as I tried to stand, the mucousy, disgusting wound in my leg opened up in a gush of blood and refused to support me.  (I knew it…hate those things…)  I couldn't get up, so I started to crawl backwards, and I yelled for Hal to come help me.

Two: the nasty treyash-alien, now very attuned to the smell of blood, decided that it didn't want its next meal to get away.  It abandoned the half-dissolved carcass of Jenkins and slid across the deck toward me.  And wouldn't you know it?  It could slide faster than I could crawl.

I rolled onto my belly and used my elbows like flippers as I squirmed away from the approaching amorphous ebony-blob.  Then I felt the frigid touch of its slimy skin as it wrapped a tentacle around my ankle.  My elbow-flippers stopped gaining ground and I was hauled backwards by my leg.  I flipped onto my back and tried to kick free, but the treyash's limbs were like elastic iron.  I stared up as it reared back to throw the full force of its body onto mine.

And I asked my Self, Do you really want to die like this?

Self!  Self!

Unless you want lose me as a host and be stuck in the middle of nowhere – you'd better do something NOW!

My gut twisted and wrenched in agony.  Then I vomited forth a stream of sparkling blue gas.  Tiny glowing orbs pin-wheeled within the center of the whirling cerulean-colored cloud. 

The jet-black alien flung itself onto me, but my Self interposed a blanket of spinning effervescent molecules between us.

Finally, Self.  About time. I thought with relief.  You really had me going there, for a while. 

I watched in fascination as Self did what it does best.  Part of its gaseous form dissolved into a molecular-level small enough to permeate the floor of the cargo deck.  It located electrical conduits and manipulated the energy from the ship's power plant into its cells.  Electricity crackled through the air as power transferred through Self and was funneled toward the treyash.  The hairs on my body stood up and I could smell burning ozone.

The treyash oozed its gloopy body off of me and backed away.  Self shimmered in the air between us, a revolving cavalcade of iridescence. 

I roared orders to Hal, "Get me offa this deck and onto that ship!"  The power in my voice broke through Hal's fear, and I found myself being pulled toward the Hopper.

Then, as I bumped along the deck, I watched in fascination as Self did what it's not allowed to do – what it’s never done before.  Self drained more power from the ship's core and struck the alien with a beam of raw energy.  Blue fire exploded around the treyash's black form, and then cascaded through it in rivulets of jagged lightning.  A piercing whine stung my ears, but I couldn't tell if it was the treyash screaming in pain, or the sound of the current vibrating the air. 

Hal heaved my body through the hatch and into the Hopper.  My last sight of the cargo bay showed the flicker of super-charged particles streaming out of Self, and the alien dissolving into viscous lumps of sludge as ultra-marine fire consumed its body.

Hal slammed the hatch closed and helped me place my hand on the security-scanner.  The Hopper disengaged itself from our doomed ship, all four engines came online, and the Hopper blew out of the upper atmosphere into space.

As the Hopper took us out of orbit, Hal turned shocked eyes on me and said, "The blue thing just burned;  it burned…him…all up."

I had no answer for him.  He turned to look at the panorama of stars and mumbled, more to himself than to me, "I can still see him burning."

I felt the tiny tug at the edge of my consciousness that meant Self was coming.  Its amazing molecular structure allowed it to go anywhere and still be attached to me.  Like a fish at the end of an unbelievably long fishing line, it was reeling itself back to me; I was its host and its home, and had been for more than a hundred years.  Self was the other tenant in my body, who I'd nicknamed 'myself.'  My Self, myself…well, I thought it was funny; I couldn't tell if Self did or not.  They don't have much of a sense of humor.  In fact, they almost never talk to their hosts.  Well, at least, mine didn’t. 

In addition to being permanently attached to me, my Self was also attached to every other Self in the universe in a kind of singular race-identity.

I had known about the other alien, because Self knew about it.  Its kind had come into contact with the creatures sometime in their ancient past.  But there had been no conflict between them before.  And no host begging for his life.

No other Self had ever destroyed a being.  Not in the history of its species.  They attached to humanoid hosts and observed; they never got involved and never interfered.  That was one of the reasons I’d agreed to become a host.  Well, that and the fact that they were immortal, and made their hosts very long-lived, almost immortal.  It was hard to say no to a bargain that included near-immortality.

But my Self had interfered.  My Self had gotten involved.  It had come to my rescue and saved my life.

Every Self, everywhere, knew what my Self had done for me. 

And I knew what I had done.  I had corrupted an entire species, a species as old as time.  All the Selfs in the universe had been initiated into the thrill of killing.  Would they ever be the same again?  Would I?

Nice theoretical questions, but the real question was if any other spaceship was near enough to rescue us before the oxygen ran out.  Selfs, the oldest known species in the universe, couldn’t make oxygen.  Ha!  I’d say that was one for us humans, if I weren’t going to die before my damned non-breathing Self…







*** Author’s Note: “Me, My Self and Hal - Part 2” coming soon. ***