Overrun: Project Hideaway (33 page)

Samuel squinted his left eye
shut lining up his shot through his weapon sight.

"Captain, hold your
fire," Tuttle ordered evenly.

Samuel didn’t acknowledge that
Tuttle had spoken. He pressed his finger down harder across his weapon’s
trigger. He propped his arm across his bloody knee and steadied his aim.

"Captain, this is a direct
order not to fire your weapon," Tuttle's voice became more calm.

For a moment, the blasts from
outside the ship had stopped. The passageway was quiet again. Dust settled
through the still air.

Tuttle took a step closer to the
edge of the gap that reached deep into the floor.

"C'mon son," he spoke
quietly again.

RadCom's body didn't react.
Belligerence and contempt seared from the one eye that had not swollen
completely shut. He took a step towards the edge of the giant hole between them
and locked eyes with Tuttle.

"Please don't do
this," Tuttle pleaded. "We're almost out of time."

The massive amount of blood
streaming from the man's face did little to mask his hate. Defiantly, he
wrapped his palms around the concussion grenade and lifted it away from his
body. While his arms were in motion, his first finger stretched across the
arming mechanism.

Two loud pops rang out across
the din before Tuttle even had a chance to scream. One came from each of his
sides. Small bursts of flame marked the darkness from the fired shots.

RadCom’s battered body staggered
once as the first round pierced his heart. The second shot snapped his neck back
and lifted his legs from the floor. Blood flew in a small burst from the hole
that had opened in the back of his head.

Before he hit the floor, Tuttle
felt his own body moving. He sprinted towards the shredded opening in the deck
and leapt.

His body sailed through the air.
His hands stretched out towards the metal sticking out from the broken floor on
the other side of the gap. His legs kicked out behind him in a vain effort to
give more momentum to his jump.

He felt his brain practically
burst as he tried to will himself to the other side.

"He pulled it," he
heard Samuel shrieking from somewhere behind him as his body went across.
"He fucking pulled it!"

His arms landed roughly against
the floor on the other side of the gap. His elbows hooked its jagged metal for
the moment keeping him from falling into the depths of the ship. The blow
knocked the wind from his lungs.

Tuttle pushed away at the
unconsciousness trying to overtake his mind and refused to let go. His legs
dangled over the massive drop. The armed grenade blinked just out of reach in
front of him as he struggled to maintain his hold.

He heard the men behind him
scurrying to find a way to the other side. The metal he clung to pierced his
skin near the center of his chest making it hard to get his breath.

Tuttle struggled to pull himself
up.

Behind him, Samuel and Cranden
threw their weapons aside and looked desperately for a way around the massive
gap. They grasped at the hanging shattered pieces of the damaged ship and
started scaling the wreckage along the passageway walls.

Tuttle’s body swayed violently
side to side. He was beginning to lose his grip. He lunged out with his free
arm towards the grenade lying just in front of its face. With his arm
completely outstretched, his fingers still could not quite yet reach.

He could feel the metal of the
broken floor digging into his side and tearing into his skin. His legs flailed
out behind him against the shattered debris.

Each time his feet found some
footing, shots of pain seared like lightning along his legs and the entire
length of his spine.

With a final surge of desperate
energy, Tuttle threw his frame across the deck. He lurched up just far enough
so that he was able to support his weight across his chest. His legs still
dangled over the broken edge of the floor.

With his body screaming in pain,
Tuttle reached out and swatted the grenade over the side of the gap.

He heard its metal bounce twice
in the dark. And then he felt the heat from the blast. And the pain of the
erupting shrapnel ripping into his burned skin.

Through a hazy fog of
consciousness, Tuttle sensed his eyes rolling back into their sockets and the
grip of his hands suddenly letting go.

Just before his body dropped,
strong hands reached at him from the darkness and firmly grabbed hold.

Cranden braced his legs and held
him while Samuel reached over and hauled him back from the flaming hole.

They threw him roughly across
the deck. Samuel leaned over him and rested his leg while Cranden ran back to
carry Parker from the other side.

"It didn’t breach the
hull," he heard Samuel say through the rapid swirl that had wrapped around
his senses.

He felt the burn of the smelling
salts launch up into his nostrils and jumpstart his brain. Samuel pulled him
slowly to his feet away from the flaming pit behind them.

Parker and Cranden rushed past
them into the cockpit. Tuttle felt himself stagger once and fall into the
strong arms of Samuel still standing at his side.

"You o.k.?" he heard
him ask.

Tuttle nodded once.

The arms that held him then let
go. Tuttle took another couple seconds to balance himself across his feet. Some
of the pain subsiding and his head starting to clear, Tuttle followed Cranden,
Samuel and Parker into the cockpit.

He looked down and stepped over
the body of the man they had just killed.

His glossy eyes stared out into
the darkness. The flames from the concussion grenade burned from the pit just
beyond his feet.

A fresh burst of sweat beaded
across Samuel's forehead as he eased his damaged knee into the Hideaway’s
command seat. Blood flowed freely from a gash just above his left knee.

The cockpit had been constructed
with the body specifications of its pilots in mind. It was too small for
Samuel’s large frame. His legs jutted awkwardly up against the underside of the
command console. He settled in the best he could and looked back at the man for
whom the seat had been designed.

"What can I do?"
Samuel asked Parker.

Cranden had just finished
dragging Parker into the small cockpit. Tuttle climbed into the copilot’s chair
next to Samuel. The air quickly became cramped and stale once all four of the
large men pressed tightly in. The stench of rotting blood from their injuries
wafted heavily about.

"You can't access any of
the controls or even boot up the system until I defeat the signaturization
process," Parker said weakly.

Cranden propped Parker’s back up
against the small wall behind Samuel. With the limited space, Cranden hadn’t
been able to bring him completely inside, and his legs protruded out the
entranceway into the damaged hall.

RadCom's body laid just a few
yards past the tips of his feet. The gigantic tear in the corridor floor from
the concussion grenade blast was just beyond it. Flames still licked from its
depths.

The Hideaway shook roughly
again.

More small fighters from the
main J.G.U. ship streaked past the viewport. They swarmed upon the Hideaway ten
and twenty at a time. All headed towards its rear.

"Will it still allow you to
do that?" Tuttle asked. “Now that it’s been under attack?”

He held his hands nervously over
the terminals on his own side.

"It should," Parker
replied.

He shifted his weight forward to
get a better look over Samuel’s shoulder at the command screens. The movement
brought another wave of pain through his body. His shoulders shuddered, and his
hands shook across his lap.

When it had passed, he leaned
past Samuel and pressed a series of buttons across the terminal in front of
him. Lights about the cockpit began to come to life. Part of the main console
terminal detached and hovered into the air over Samuel's bloody lap.

Parker leaned further in. His
fingers tapped quickly across the command terminal controls and keypads.

Tuttle pressed his face closer
to the viewport trying to get a better look at the fighters zipping away to the
back of the ship.

Another jolt shook the Hideaway.
The force this time was not quite as intense.

The Hideaway shuddered again
like it had been gently punched in several different sections along its side.

"They're attaching
themselves to the ship," Tuttle said straining his neck to see even
further back. "They're going to board just like we did. They're going to
suction on and just cut right through."

"Will that set off the
nukes?" Samuel asked nervously beneath Parker's reach.

He also strained his neck closer
to the viewport to get a better look at what was going on outside.

"It shouldn't," Parker
said holding his breath. His fingers moved more quickly. “Defeating the
signaturization process causes the nukes to automatically disarm."

"So why didn't they go off
when we came onboard?" Tuttle asked. Perspiration crossed his face.

"You boarded midship. Only
the cargo area is rigged," Parker said. “Another two sections back, and
everything here including the moon itself would have been gone."

"They could be aboard
already," Cranden spoke nervously.

"They could be,"
Parker agreed. "But if they thought they knew enough, like where they
could safely board, then they would also know that they could only disarm the
cargo area from up here. You knew where you could safely enter. They don't. Or
they would have by now. And they would be up here already. And we wouldn’t be
having this conversation."

Cranden turned around
apprehensively. He pulled his weapon slowly from his side. He leaned it near
the corridor entrance where he could easily grab it if someone came up on them
from the other side of the dying fire in the middle of the floor.

"Well, while they're still
trying to figure it out, we're going to be gone already," Samuel said.

Parker’s fingers stopped moving
across the data terminal, and he leaned slowly back.

"Pilot signature no longer
required. Universal control restored," flashed in small letters twice
across the command screen before it became dark.

"The ship is already
powered up, Captain," Parker said leaning back against the wall at the
rear of the cockpit.

More ships streaked past them
toward the rear of the Hideaway. Tuttle thought he counted more than a hundred
at this point.

"What about the ships
already attached?" Tuttle asked powering up the copilot’s terminal.

"It's a short trip to
Earth," Samuel said. "Atmospheric reentry should take care of any
that might still be left. Those fighters aren't equipped for space-to-surface
flight."

"I hope you're right,"
Tuttle said.

The ship then vibrated lightly.
A rumble echoed faintly through the ship. The Hideaway began to move under its
own power causing the J.G.U. fighters coming at them to adjust course.

Their approaches became more
haphazard. Bursts from their smaller attack cannons slapped across the
Hideaway’s hull.

"Any damage, I should know
about, General?" Samuel barked as they began to move away from the main
J.G.U. ship.

"You don’t want to know,”
Tuttle said through gritted teeth. “Just go.”

The ship rocked behind them.
Emergency seal-off doors slammed down throughout the ship while its navigation
system prepared for travel back to Earth.

As they moved closer to the
planet, several sections of the Hideaway too damaged to withstand the reentry
into the atmosphere were jettisoned. A handful of J.G.U. fighters were
destroyed when they released from the ship.

Samuel brought the Hideaway
around. As the ship turned, the vague shape of the moon as well as the large
J.G.U. attack ship disappeared from their front viewport. More fighters
streaked in front of them firing at the cockpit before flying past and pounding
the rest of the hull with weapons fire.

"Any signs of
boarders?" Cranden yelled. The noise in the cockpit had increased as laser
blasts slicing across the front of the ship became more frequent and intense.

He turned away from what was
happening outside of the ship to stare back into the dark corridor behind the
flames where the real threat from the J.G.U. would come.

"No signs of structural
penetration," Tuttle responded. His voice shook beneath the rough ride of
the battered ship. "No access detected to the main cargo bay. I don’t
think they’ve made their way in."

"Atmospheric reentry in
sixty seconds,” Samuel reported giving more power to the ship's engines.

Laser flashes from the main
J.G.U. ship streaked at them across the cockpit from behind. Some of the blasts
flew past into the far reaches of space while others buried themselves into the
surface of the moon.

The Hideaway jerked roughly to
its side. Several of the energy bursts ripped across its center close to the
cockpit.

"Damage!" Samuel screamed
at Tuttle.

"We're still here!"
Tuttle shrieked back over the new chaos befallen them. "They're not
targeting the rear of the ship anymore! They’re going for the front and
midsection. Probably going to try and blast us from the rest of the ship and take
their chances recovering what’s left!"

"Engines!" Samuel
screamed back.

Parker leaned over a console
just behind Samuel's back. He quickly scrolled through the equipment status
reports across its screen.

"No damage inside the
hull!" Parker yelled as loud as his voice allowed. "That’s probably
not going to happen again!”

Another burst of green energy
blasted at them from behind and impacted across the topmost portions of the
ship.

The Hideaway lurched forward.
Metal and steel all around groaned and cracked. Fresh fires bellowed from the
corridors. Alarms screamed throughout the cockpit.

Falling behind them in the
distance, whole sections of the moon had been ripped away by laser fire from
the J.G.U. ship.

In front of them, the Earth sped
quickly towards the viewport. Tuttle pressed his face against the observation
glass.

The smaller fighters were
starting to fall back in the distance, their engines not powerful enough to
keep pace.

"Some are breaking away!”
Tuttle said still pressed up against the viewport. "Could be because we’ve
got a lot of damage. Sections are breaking off. It doesn’t look like the cargo
area is attached by much anymore. We could lose it."

"We’re not going to lose
it,” Samuel said determinedly. “We didn't come this far for that.”

The blue paleness of the Earth
rushed at them from the blackness of the galaxy.

Behind them, the large J.G.U.
ship still gave chase.

Fresh laser bursts pelted the
rearmost sections of the Hideaway as it fled the damaged moon and sped towards
Earth.

Soon they were upon it. The
weapons attack did not subside. The Hideaway pitched again violently.

They were seconds away from
making contact with the outer atmosphere of the planet.

* * *

Parker sat in the rear of the
cockpit watching the Earth loom up in front of them when a jolt of intense pain
seared across the back of his neck.

A few seconds later it came
again, this time stronger and shooting down his neck and across his shoulders.

He reached back and rubbed at
the caplet just under his skin. It moved beneath his touch.

The jolts of pain became
stronger the further they approached.

He caught one more quick glance
of the Earth before his body started to seize.

* * *

A shriek filled the cockpit. It
sounded too painful to be called a scream. Parker’s body stiffened sharply back
and slammed down hard onto the floor.

Tuttle turned around to see
Cranden roll his legs across Parker whose body was spasming across the ground.
Loud sickening gurgles came from his lungs and lips. Cranden struggled to pull
his flailing arms from the front of his face.

Tuttle started to shift out of
his seat to help.

"General, I need you up
here,” Samuel said loudly not turning around. His gaze remained riveted across
the fast approaching planet. "I can't bring it into the atmosphere by
myself."

Tuttle slowly lowered himself
back into the copilot’s seat and stole quick distracted looks at the terminals
across his lap.

"Holy mother of god,"
Cranden said from behind them.

Tuttle pushed himself away from
the terminals and moved next to where Cranden kneeled across Parker’s thrashing
body on the cockpit floor.

Samuel looked straight ahead and
didn’t repeat his concern. He bled more power into the Hideaway’s engines
trying to outrun the deadly weapons fire of the pursuing ship. The Hideaway
bumped and lurched from the laser attack.

"Thirty seconds from
atmospheric impact," Samuel reported to the men on the ground behind him.

The only response was another
pain-filled shriek.

"What's wrong with
him?" he screamed over his shoulder while punching at the controls across
his lap.

"I don't know!"
Cranden yelled back.

Tuttle kneeled next to Cranden
and tried to hold Parker's arms down so the medic could get a better look.

"He's seizing! Real fucking
bad. I don’t know why!"

Parker's head flew back landing
smartly against the metal of the deck. His eyes rolled back into their sockets.
Saliva and vomit seeped from his lips.

His arms and legs thrashed about
smashing into the back of Samuel's command seat. Cranden pulled out his medical
pack and straddled Parker's bucking legs.

Tuttle leaned over and tried to
hold Parker’s arms down across his chest. He had to lean his head back to
protect his face from Parker’s gnashing teeth.

"You've got to keep him off
of me!" Samuel yelled ducking beneath Parker’s kicks.

Outside the viewport, the J.G.U.
bombardment intensified.

Parker's legs pounded across
Samuel's arms and the back of his seat. His feet flailed violently against the
command terminals at the rear of the cockpit smashing plastic and switches across
the consoles.

Vomit spewed from his mouth in
violent bursts drenching the men on top of him.

The seizure intensified and did
not cease. The force of his thrashing limbs became too much for the men holding
him. His body worked itself from their grasps and rolled from beneath them onto
his side.

His face fell across Tuttle’s
leg, and his teeth dug hard into the fleshy part of his thigh.

"Son of a bitch!"
Tuttle screamed. He grabbed at the back of Parker's neck trying to push him
outside the entranceway into the damaged corridor.

"Look at this!"
Cranden yelled. Parker was now on his stomach half-in, half-out of the cockpit
entranceway.

At the back of his neck just
below the hairline, a small cylindrical object pulsated just beneath his skin.

The skin covering the object
turned dark green then became completely black. Bursts of energy pulsed from
the cylinder and spread down into Parker's body. The bursts visibly destroyed
tissue and flesh along the way.

"What the living fuck is
that?"

Tuttle tried to steady Parker’s
head. Cranden put his knee into Parker's back and leaned over his flailing
body.

Parker's teeth gnawed at the
air. Tuttle pressed his head to the ground to keep them from again finding
someone’s skin. Cranden laid out across Parker’s back trying to pin him down so
that he could better see the small object throbbing at the base of his neck.