Splintered: The Labyrinth, Book 3, page 22
“International law prevents firearms aboard non-planetary based research vessels and stations, but this little baby does just fine. If you don’t want to test that theory, I’d advise you to behave yourself.”
Bloom winked, gave two thumbs up, and then strolled to the rear of the passageway.
“Cocky son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Tomlins muttered.
Ruiz nodded in agreement. His eyes were wide.
“What’s wrong?” Tomlins asked.
“I—I didn’t sign up for this. This guy…it’s all…nobody just magically appears aboard a vessel in deep space. I’m scared.”
“Scared? We live with the possibility of death every day out here. You’re scared of one guy?”
“Vete a la mierda, cabrone.”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Jefferson snapped. “Ruiz, you know the drill. We all do our part, regardless of our specialties or training or job descriptions. Tomlins, since you’re so fucking brave, you can go in second, right behind Shetland.”
“What? Why me?”
“Because Ruiz is right to be scared. I’m scared, too. None of this makes a lick of fucking sense. This guy is not a stowaway. So where did he come from? People don’t just appear out of thin air in orbit between Jupiter and Titan.”
Shetland raised his baton. “Oi, with all due respect…are we doing this, or what?”
Taking a deep breath, Jefferson nodded. Then he glanced at the camera overhead. “Commander, open the hatch.”
There was a soft hiss of hydraulics and then the door slid open. The intruder stood motionless against the aft bulkhead, hands upraised, signaling surrender. Shetland moved into the compartment, keeping his distance. Tomlins slunk in behind him and moved to the security officer’s immediate left. Jefferson followed and stood to Shetland’s right. Ruiz came in last and stood behind them.
The stranger smiled. “Howdy.”
“Shut up,” Shetland ordered. “You’ll spe—”
“Mark. Take it easy.” Jefferson reached out and squeezed the officer’s shoulder. “Deep breaths.”
Shetland fell silent but stood with his feet spaced shoulder-width apart, knees bent, and baton at the ready.
“Hello.” Jefferson cleared his throat nervously. “I’m First Officer Leland Jefferson, UNSF-DSRS12. You said your name was Don Bloom, correct?”
The intruder shrugged; his hands still upraised. “That was his name, yes.”
Jefferson frowned. “Whose name, sir?”
“Never mind. It’s not important. I’d prefer if you called me Ob.”
“Ob? That’s an…unusual name. Is it your first or your last?”
“I don’t really have a last name, unless you maybe want to go with the Obot. Look…I’m not here to make trouble. I would prefer to avoid any damage to this body, Leland. Can I call you Leland?”
Jefferson nodded. “If you prefer.”
“Okay, then. I like this body, Leland, and I intend to keep it for as long as possible. So, how about we agree not to hurt each other?”
“I think I speak for the entire crew when I say we’d like to avoid damaging ourselves, as well. We, too, like our bodies. Nobody needs to get hurt here today. We mean you no harm, but we also have to take some precautions. Surely, you can see that you have us at a disadvantage here, right?”
“I can see how this must look,” Ob admitted. “My sudden appearance here must be disconcerting.”
“You could say that,” Jefferson replied. “Okay, good. We’re in agreement. So, let’s just take things nice and slow. One step at a time.”
“Can I lower my hands?”
“I’d prefer you keep them up,” Shetland said.
Ob glanced from Shetland to Jefferson and then back to Shetland again. “I thought Leland was in charge?”
“He is.” Shetland tensed.
“Then why are you giving me orders?”
“I wasn’t,” Shetland replied. “It’s a matter of security. A request.”
“Sounded like an order to me. I don’t like taking orders. I’ve done that for too long.”
“Listen, asshole.” Sneering, Tomlins stepped forward. “If you want to argue abo—”
Ob grabbed his hand, jerked him forward, and then spun him around. Twisting the astronaut’s arm behind his back, he shoved Tomlins to the floor in front of him.
“Back up,” he ordered. “I told you people I didn’t want to fight. This caustic little asshole decided to test that. The rest of you don’t need to. Stay back, or I’ll—”
Shetland lunged, striking with the baton, and pumping a shock into the attacker. Bizarrely, the intruder didn’t react to the jolt. He simply grinned.
“Bloom’s been dead too long. There’s not enough water left in this body to conduct the electricity. It doesn’t even tickle.”
Gritting his teeth, Shetland shoved the baton harder against his opponent and jammed his thumb on the button.
“Knock it off,” Ob growled, “or I’m going to stick that up your ass.”
He wrenched Tomlins’s arm further. Bones snapped and Tomlins shrieked. Spittle flew from the astronaut’s mouth and snot ran down his lip.
“Release him,” Shetland yelled. “Let him go right the fuck now!”
“I thought I was clear? I was enjoying talking to Leland. You? Not so much. So, stop trying to give me orders, meat.”
Ob placed his foot against the injured man’s back, and with a mighty pull, wrenched the arm from its socket with a wet, ripping sound. Wailing, Tomlins toppled to one side, thrashing and flopping as his blood sprayed against the sterile bulkhead.
“I warned you people, but you didn’t listen. You never listen! Fucking humans…you’re all the same.”
Gaping, Shetland stumbled backward as Ob stepped over the thrashing Tomlins, dropped the arm, and grabbed the end of the baton. The security officer thumbed the button again, but to no avail. Ob jerked the weapon from his grasp, and then swung, striking Shetland across the face, breaking his jaw, and shattering his teeth. Shetland sank to his knees with a muffled scream and wet himself. Fragments of teeth skittered across the deck. Ob turned the weapon around in his hands and advanced on Jefferson and Ruiz. The two men bolted from the compartment. Jefferson shouted for the hatch to be closed. It hissed shut just as Ob approached it.
“Damn it!”
Standing on the other side, the two men shuddered, panting breathlessly, as Ob began to batter the hatch with the security baton. After a minute, he turned around and began to do the same to Shetland. The security officer’s head broke open with the fifth blow, but that didn’t seem to satisfy the intruder. The compartment’s interior was splattered with blood. After a dozen or so blows, Ob paused. He knelt beside Shetland and pulled off the man’s pants and underwear. Then he picked up the baton again and shoved it into the dead man’s anus, savagely twisting and pushing until only the hilt was visible.
Jefferson became aware that Ruiz was sobbing quietly beside him.
“Ruiz…”
“It’s a demon,” the younger man cried. “It has to be some kind of demon!”
Jefferson turned his attention to the overhead camera. “Commander? I suggest we—”
Before he could finish, his stomach convulsed. Jefferson bent over and vomited all over the deck.
CURSING IN SUMERIAN, Ob looked out through Bloom’s eyes and considered the situation. He knew thousands of languages, each one picked up via the memories and knowledge of his previous hosts. Sumerian was one of the first he’d learned, after his own language, the language of the Siqqusim, and while there were others that sounded more floral or perhaps poetic, no other language lent itself to curses and swears quite like Sumerian did. Telling someone to go fuck themselves in Sumerian was a melodious and delightful experience.
The hatch had sealed shut behind him, and he saw no way of opening it. When he’d tried earlier, before the four humans had arrived, he’d been unable to do so. That meant whoever was on the bridge was able to override it. That person had control. Bloom’s shell, magnificent as it was, would be of no use in that regard. He needed another.
He glanced down at the smeared remains of Shetland’s corpse and decided that it would be of no use. Then he turned his attention to the other one—the human whose arm he’d ripped off. Tomlins. Even as he watched, the man’s life glow grew weaker and fainter. It wouldn’t be long before the astronaut died. Perhaps thirty seconds, at most.
Ob sank to Bloom’s knees and then slumped over onto the deck, laying in a pool of blood. He remained still, hoping that the two survivors on the other side of the hatch would think he’d lost consciousness. Then, he waited. The moment the mortally wounded man’s soul left his body, Ob departed from Bloom and took up residence in the corpse. Timing would be everything in this charade. If he was gone from Bloom too long, it would hasten that host’s decomposition, and that was something he dearly hoped to avoid. He opened the one-armed astronaut’s eyes, quickly flipping through the man’s memories. Tomlins was his name, and in life, he’d been aware that his fellow crew members disliked him. He’d struggled with an inferiority complex and a deep sense of entitlement. He’d had a background in engineering, but wasn’t very good at it, and over time, his duties onboard this vessel had been pretty much limited to janitorial and standing watch.
Muffled voices echoed from the other side of the hatch. Sitting up. Ob did his best to appear dazed and in shock. He glanced at the window, forcing Tomlins’ face into an expression of agony. The other two, Jefferson and Ruiz, stared at him, gaping. Ob stumbled to Tomlins’s feet, held out his one remaining hand in an imploring gesture, and shuffled toward the door. As an afterthought, he started the temporary host’s heart beating again, so as to force blood from the wound, and make things look more realistic and dire.
“Jefferson,” he whined with Tomlins’ mouth, “please…help me…”
“Jesus Christ!” The First Officer’s eyes widened. “Commander, we need you to reopen the hatch! Tomlins is still alive in there.”
Hearing the hydraulics kick in, Ob sank back down to the deck and waited. The hatch whooshed open, and Jefferson hurried into the compartment, followed by a more hesitant Ruiz. As they moved toward him, Ob departed the body and went back into Bloom. Tomlins’ corpse toppled over, head cracking loudly against the hard surface. The blood stopped pumping again.
Ob sat up inside Bloom’s body and saw both men now kneeling over Tomlins in concern. Their backs were turned to him. Ob grinned.
“Commander,” Jefferson said, glancing up at the camera, “we’ll need Hendrix down here on the double. Ruiz, help me tie off his stump.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Ob said.
Then he leaped to his feet and raced past them, out into the corridor.
“I told you meat bags that I didn’t want to fight, but you didn’t listen to me, did you? So, now we’ll do things the fun way.”
YUSHI, Achilleos, and Rostovic had almost finished emptying the aft storage compartment of its supplies when the alarm began to blare. Startled, Yushi nearly dropped the box she was holding. She stacked it atop the others in the passageway and turned to her two crew-mates in concern. Both men stared overhead, their expressions a mixture of confused concern.
Yushi drew a breath to speak, but before she could, the Commander’s voice boomed over the intercom.
“Rostovic! Achilleos! Yushi! Get to the next compartment, on the double, and seal it behind you. He’s loose!”
“W-what?” Rostovic frowned.
Achilleos glanced around in panic.
“Move,” the Commander ordered, “or you’re going to get sealed in that section with him!”
The three blinked at each other.
“Come on.” Beckoning, Yushi started toward the next hatch. “Double time!”
The sound of running footsteps pounded behind them.
Turning, Yushi saw the intruder barreling down the passageway toward them. Achilleos and Rostovic still had their backs to him. Both men began to slowly turn, but their attacker was faster. He slammed into them, arms outstretched, sending both men crashing to the deck. He then pounced onto Achilleos’s back and crouched there, like a cat atop its prey. With one fluid movement, he reached out, grabbed the astronaut by the chin and cheek, and twisted his neck. The snap sounded very loud in the confined corridor. The gleeful growl the intruder made afterward was even louder.
Screaming, Yushi spun around to flee, but the man sprang to his feet and fell upon her before she could. Gripping her throat with one hand, he slammed her hard against the bulkhead. Her vision went black for a brief instant and when it returned, there were white spots floating in front of her. She swallowed, tasting blood. Gagging, she struggled weakly, trying to get away, but the intruder shook her until she stopped. Then he stared at the camera mounted above them.
“Can you hear me?”
There was a slight delay, and then Commander Patrowsky responded. Her tone was flat and defeated. Yushi had never heard her sound scared until now.
“Yes. I can hear you. Please let her go. Please…”
“I can do that. But first I want all of us together.”
“Mister Bloom—”
“Ob,” he said. “I told those others you sent to collect me, my real name is Ob. And I’m sure you heard and saw that exchange, so you know exactly what I’m capable of.”
“I…yes. We saw.”
“We? So that means there are more of you.”
“N-not necessarily.”
“Don’t lie to me, lady. I already know everything anyway. Tomlins helped in that regard.”
The Commander was silent.
“Okay. Now that we’ve settled that, let’s all group together, shall we?”
“W-why?”
“Because I like this body that I’m in, and I don’t want you sealing me behind a hatch and then opening an airlock somewhere and shooting me out into space.”
“W-what do you want?”
“I’m hiding from someone.”
“Who?”
Ob laughed. “Oh, trust me. You don’t want me to say his name out loud. That would be bad for us all…speaking his name. And by the way, speaking of speaking, there is very little air left in this woman’s lungs.”
Yushi’s vision began to blur, and her lungs ached. She felt her pulse throbbing in her neck, and wondered if her arteries were about to burst. Ob eased his grip, and she sucked in air, rasping and coughing.
“No one else needs to die,” he said. “Simply gather your remaining crew together on the bridge, and allow me to be among you, unmolested. Then, we’re all going to hide out for a little bit. When I’m ready, I’ll move on and the rest of you stay alive. Fair enough?”
Groaning, Rostovic stirred. Ob glanced down at him.
“Stay there.”
The astronaut shook his head. “Put her down!”
Yushi’s eyes flicked to the left and widened as she saw Jefferson and Ruiz running toward them.
Ob sighed. His breath was foul on her face, and Yushi winced, cringing at the proximity. His fingers were cold against her throat, and their pliancy and texture felt uncomfortably like cheese. She experienced a surge of relief when he shoved her aside and turned to face her onrushing crew-mates.
Jefferson raised one arm and cocked a fist. Then, his eyes turned wide in confusion, and he staggered, slowing to a halt. Slumping against the bulkhead, he dropped his fist, grasped his chest, and slid slowly downward. Ruiz skittered to a halt behind him, his gaze darting frantically around the passageway.
“What is it?” Ruiz asked.
“H-heart…” Jefferson gasped. He rolled over onto his side, eyes squeezed shut in agony.
Rostovic stumbled to his feet and motioned at Yushi to stay quiet. Ob’s back was to the astronaut. The attacker stood watching Jefferson and Ruiz, head cocked to one side. Yushi turned back to them, as well. Jefferson was apparently dead from a heart attack. Seeming to have forgotten all about her amidst the chaos, Ruiz knelt beside him, frantically checking his pulse. Yushi’s gaze darted back to Rostovic as he stepped over Achilleos’s corpse and crept up behind their foe. He clasped both of his thick, rugged hands together, raised his arms over his head, and then slammed his fists down hard into the back of Ob’s neck. The intruder let out a surprised yelp and started to turn, but Rostovic let fly with another punch, catching Ob in the jaw. The blow knocked him backward, and he released Yushi. She stumbled as Ob collapsed onto the deck, unmoving.
Wincing, Rostovic flexed his fingers and moved in to deliver another attack. Before he could, Jefferson suddenly sat up, grabbed Ruiz by the back of the head, and yanked him in close.
“Surprise! Let’s play hide and seek.”
“Hey,” Ruiz protested. “What are y—”
Jefferson sank his teeth into Ruiz’s throat, biting down hard and shaking his head back and forth like a dog. To Yushi, the sounds he made were even more terrifying than the act itself—guttural growls and a wet burbling. Blood welled around his lips and dribbled down his chin, dark and shockingly red. Ruiz flailed, desperately trying to pull away. Jefferson savagely clamped down even harder and then shoved the astronaut backward. Most of Ruiz’s throat dangled from Jefferson’s mouth. Spraying blood, the mortally wounded man toppled over and crawled across the deck, making a pitiful mewling cry. Jefferson spat the grisly morsel of flesh onto his lap, and then, grinning through blood-stained teeth, he suddenly fell lifeless again.
“Shit!” Rostovic hurried over to Ruiz and knelt beside him. Ruiz reached for him, fingers twitching helplessly. His eyes shone with shock and panic. He tried to speak, but the only thing that passed his lips were red bubbles. Rostovic glanced up at Yushi.
“What do we do? Commander, are you there? We need help!”
Achilleos sat up, head lolling to one side on its broken neck. Yushi screamed. The dead man backhanded her, sending her crashing into the bulkhead again. She slumped to the floor and tried to crawl away, but her limbs refused to obey. She swallowed, tasting more blood. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or one of her crew-mates. Her stomach lurched when she realized that it was probably a little bit of both. She watched in terror as Rostovic tried to scramble out of the way, but the dying Ruiz clawed at him, desperately seeking aid. Achilleos clasped his hands together just as Rostovic had done only moments before and loomed over both men.
