Ghosts of Ophidian (5 page)

Read Ghosts of Ophidian Online

Authors: Scott McElhaney

Nine

 

The
pilots maneuvered the shuttle around the giant ship, cautiously skimming across its nearly smooth surface as they made their way to the top. They navigated down its length almost a hundred yards until they located the vent. The pilots took advantage of the fact that there was no conventional “up or down” in outer space and spun the shuttle around so the payload bay doors would open up to the vent. This gave the BP1 crew a false sense that they were beneath the ship, attempting to gain access from the bottom. In truth however, the shuttle was technically upside down in a stationary orbit directly above the alien ship.

“I can’t be sure of what I’m seeing, but I’d swear
that someone just accessed our shipboard computer,” Major Roush said, “I even lost control of the keyboard for about two or three seconds there.”

“Can the internet even reach up here?” Roberts asked.

“Oh, it wasn’t the internet. I even got a sudden firewall warning, but it disappeared as quickly as it popped up.”

“Do you think it could be this alien ship?” Colonel Santini asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “For all I know, it could have just been a glitch in our system. Everything looks fine right now.”

“Then we’ll proceed as planned,” the Colonel stated
, “Report anything out of the ordinary.”

A moment later, the bay doors opened above the crew, revealing nothing but dark grey steel as far as the eyes could see.
Doctor Lentz and Conner followed the same procedure as before while the others watched from the open bay. They pushed off from the shuttle in the direction of the circular grill above them. Conner reached the grill first, easily grabbing hold of the wide bars that protected the vent. Lentz followed barely ten seconds later, taking hold of the vent beside him.

He examined the bars, tapping a bar lightly with the metal guard on his wrist unit. He kept forgetting that he’d get no sound in
the vacuum of outer space. He glanced along the edge of the vent and noticed that the red sensor device from the Chinese was still attached between two of the thick bars.

“I’d
say these bars are probably three inches in diameter, with gaps of about five or six inches between each of the bars,” Conner said, wasting no time, “I could cut through these with no problem unless they’re made of some kind of unknown alloy.”

Lentz shined a light down into the ventilation shaft, but it
reflected off nothing beyond about a hundred yards.

“I’d have to believe this
will be our best mode of entry,” Lentz agreed, “The shaft is probably eight feet wide.”

Conner was already turning on the valves to both the tanks on his cutting torch. He then sparked the torch to life while Lentz scooted away
. Conner twisted the valve, shrinking his flame down to the preferred cutting strength. He then brought the flame to the bar in front of him, attempting his first cut.

“Although it’s cold up here and I’m sure this metal will cool quickly, you might not want to touch anything I cut for a few seconds,” Conner said as he watched the metal bubble up.

“It’s cutting!” Lentz hollered for the benefit of those in the shuttle.

He sliced through the bar, then cut through the bar
to the right of it. He cut a third bar and then a fourth. Conner then slid down the vent about five feet and proceeded to cut the four bars free from the ventilation shaft. He tossed the bars off into space as they fell free of the unit.

“We’re in, guys,” Conner said, “Oh, and
girl.
Sorry.”

“No apology necessary,” Crossway said, “I’ve always been one of the guys.
Today is no different.”

McKenzie laughed, then motioned for the crew to head toward the vent. By the time they reached the spot where the bars had been cut free,
Conner and Lentz were already inside the shaft and approximately twenty feet beneath the grill. The shaft was only wide enough to permit two astronauts loaded full of gear to huddle side-by-side. This was the position of Lentz and Conner while he inspected the depth of the tunnel walls.

“How’s it looking down there?” Roberts asked.

“We took a reading about ten feet in and it was unreadable. Steele thinks that means it was up against a beam or something else that was too wide to read,” Lentz said.

“I think we’ve got it now,” Conner said, showing Lentz the 3.21 reading on his device.

“We found a three-inch wall,” Lentz said.

Conner started up his cutting torch again, then brought the flame to the curved wall of the shaft. The metal bubbled up quickly, then exploded into the shaft with a sudden burst of
white gas. Conner involuntarily screamed as he pulled the torch away. A gas, obviously not flammable, continued to jet into the ventilation shaft through the small nickel-size hole Conner had punched into the wall.

“What’s going on? Are you two okay?” McKenzie called.

“I’m fine,” Conner said, “I think we breeched a gas line here. Is there anyone who can tell me what we’re venting down here?”

McKenzie quickly searched his bag, taking careful measures to keep things from floating free
of the bag and into the void. He found what he had been searching for. He entered the shaft and met the two who were still being faced with a steady stream of unknown gas. He reached in front of Conner and placed his device against the stream of gas. After a couple seconds, it returned with a reading.

McKenzie brought the object close to his
helmet and then chuckled.

“We’re venting their atmosphere in there. Oxygen, Nitrogen, and a little Argon,” McKenzie
said, “Congratulations, Steele! You just verified that the ship has a breathable atmosphere inside.”

“So, what should
I do? Keep cutting?” Conner asked.

“We might as well,” McKenzie said, “We’ve got to find out why these aliens aren’t responding to any of our attempts at communication
. It’s the only way we’ll get to examine their intentions.”

Conner sighed, the
n brought the torch back to life.

“Stay back in case we get more than we bargained for,” Conner said, bringing the flame back to the wall.

He continued cutting through the metal, noting that by the time he had made an “L” shaped cut, the atmosphere beyond had stopped venting into the shaft. Two minutes later, he finished the cut, leaving it attached by only a hairline sliver of metal. Conner handed the torch to Lentz, then drew his P90 from the special leg holster he’d manufactured. He chambered the first round, then kicked the metal plate inward.

To his shock, the
heavy plate slammed against the floor inside as though gravity had somehow existed inside the small room. He kept his weapon aimed inward; examining the dimly lit room that he was now faced with. The hole he had cut ended up being located approximately three feet above the floor in the room.

“It looks clear
from this viewpoint,” Conner said, “I’m going in.”

Conner made a
frightening mistake that would have proven fatal had there been a hidden foe waiting for him inside the room. He entered the room assuming the same zero G that existed inside the shaft would also exist inside the room. He “swam” into the room headfirst with his weapon ready, but by the time his waist passed over the threshold, gravity had gained enough of a hold on his upper body to force him rapidly to the floor. For those inside the shaft, it appeared as though something had overpowered Conner Steele and swallowed him up.

“Steele
!” Roberts shouted, ducking his head into the ventilation shaft with his MAC-11 cocked and ready.

“I’m alright. We’ve got gravity in here and it to
ok me by surprise,” Conner replied.

He rose quickly from the ground with his weapon ready. The room was no larger than ten feet by fifteen and it appeared to serve no purpose, as it contained no furniture. There were two metal crates
in the corner and four metal drums that resembled black beer kegs lined up against one of the walls.

“When I h
it the floor, I think I heard what could only be described as an alarm,” Conner said, “Put your helmets against the wall and tell me if you hear it too.”

He moved cautiously toward a metal door and pressed his
own helmet to it.

“Geeng stom ruttel tut,” a gurgling voice called, “Geeng stom ruttel tut”

Those deep sounding words were followed by the same chiming sound he took for an alarm before.

“I hear it,” Len
tz said, “It’s a three-tone ring followed by some foreign language, then the three notes again.”

“It sounds like that
alien is drowning as he barks out his commands,” Crossway said, “It’s got to be an automated alarm because it just keeps repeating the same thing.”

“Probably
warning the crew of a hull breech,” Conner said, “And it looks like an emergency door was probably closed to prevent any further loss of atmosphere. There’s no doorknob or handle to speak of on this door.”

He evaluated the doorframe, feelin
g around its edges to check its method of movement. He then realized that he never officially told the others that the room was clear.


You can all come in. This room is secure, but watch out for the gravity. I highly recommend entering feet first.”

Conner turned to discover that Roberts was already in the room.
The rest of the crew made their way in through his manufactured doorway with no problems. He could tell that Roberts was still on edge by the way he continued to wield his weapon.

“May I suggest something before you cut through the next door?”
the Major’s voice rose through their earpieces.

“What’
s that, Major?” McKenzie responded.


Do you have a way to seal off the ventilation shaft?” he asked, “The way I see it, the ship has atmosphere as well as gravity. It also appears as though the ship has an automated defense against the loss of atmosphere. The more often you break through doors and vent off more of the atmosphere, the more often the ship will probably respond with more emergency doors. I doubt you want to spend your time cutting through more and more doors.”

McKenzie turned to Conner, but he only replied with a shrug. Lentz turned to the shaft, then glanced around the room.

“We can do it, but it will probably require a whole roll of Gorilla Tape and ten minutes of wasted time and oxygen,” Lentz said.

“Let’s d
o it,” McKenzie said.

“Wait, how much oxygen do we have?” Conner asked.

“Look at your wrist readout like you learned yesterday, Steele,” McKenzie said, “You probably have another two hours of air just like I do.”

Conner verified this, then nodded apologetically.
Lentz was already retrieving the thick roll of Gorilla Tape from his bag.

. . . .

It only took a little over five minutes to seal off the ventilation shaft. After that, Conner placed a small charge on the door, then had everyone back away. Ten seconds later, the door blew away from the room with almost no sound whatsoever thanks to the lack of atmosphere.

It only took a second before the atmosphere beyond the room filled their current space. The sound of the alien klaxon was now audible without having to place their helmets against the ship.

“Geeng stom ruttel tut,” that gurgling voice called, “Geeng stom ruttel tut”

“At least we know they’re still saying the same thing as before,” Lentz said, “Let’s just hope it’s not something along the lines of
‘Shoot the intruders’
.”

Conner
kept his weapon aimed at the open doorway. He ducked his head quickly out into the space beyond their room, then tucked his head back into the room.

“Looks like a vacant corridor,” he said, taking a quick peek in the opposite direction, “Goes on forever toward the fo’csle and maybe fifty yards toward the stern.”

“Foaxle?”
McKenzie repeated.

“Our SEAL buddy here is using a nautical term,” Roberts chuckled, “Let’s not forget that most of us aren’t versed in your Navy slang, Steele.”

Conner turned toward the group, “I apologize, though it’s not
slang
, Roberts. Fo’csle, an abbreviated version of the word spelled out like ‘fore’ and ‘castle’, is the front of a ship. The stern or the fantail is the rear. And for the record, port is left and starboard is right as viewed in the reference frame of someone facing the fo’csle. Just remember that both port and left have four letters and you’ll never get mixed up. I apologize if I accidentally use these terms.”

“Don’t apologize, Steele,” McKenzie said, “It’s understandable that you’d use nautical terms for a ship whether
that ship is in space or at sea.”

“So anyway, what’s the scuttlebutt on the hallways again?” Roberts asked.

Conner looked at Roberts who was grinning at his own attempt at humor. Crossway pushed Roberts, then walked over toward Conner.

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