Jet Black

Wolf grabbed the dead drone by its tail and dragged it across the ground, away from the wall. It rolled on its side when he nudged it with his foot, and I wondered what he was doing.

"What's your name?" I asked out of the blue.

He paused for a second, then rattled off something I couldn't quite follow. He must have read my expression, though, because he repeated it again, a little slower this time.

I did my best to imitate the sounds he made, but my tongue wouldn't cooperate. I gave it two tries, and when he started laughing (or his equivalent of a laugh) at me, I gave up.

A blush crept across my face and I grumbled to myself. "Fuck it—I'm going to call you Wolf. Is that okay? Wolf?"

Once his deep, rolling laugh petered out, he nodded his head.

Though it was a bit embarrassing, I felt since I was asking personal questions, I might as well ask another.

"Are you . . . like, male?"

He made that strange clicking sound, bringing up the vague memory of tusked mandibles and ridged forehead of his kind. He did, at least, answer positively and I was relieved of that particular embarrassment.

It took me aback, but he was watching me expectantly. I wasn't sure what he wanted for a second, but I figured it out.

"Oh, uh, my name's Nichole . . . though you knew that . . . and I'm a girl."

Wolf huffed and went back to work.

"Alright then . . . what now?" I asked after a second.

My escort-turned-comrade motioned toward the dead thing on the ground. I stared at it, then looked up at him and shook my head, not understanding.

He cocked his head to the side, then kneeled down by the corpse and motioned for me to move by the wall. I stared at him, looked around, then sighed and followed his order.

What else did I have going on?

The body shifted as he looked it over. After a moment, he pulled out a short knife and started sawing at the neck, as if attempting to remove the thing's head. That's what I assumed, anyway: I couldn't see very well as he was sitting in my line of vision.

Shaking my head I asked, "Do we have time for this? What if something else comes by and tries to eat us?"

Wolf glanced at me, then chittered and continued his work. I pursed my lips and decided not to argue. This was his show, now. If he wanted to take his sweet-ass time, whatever.

Gave me a second or two to just chill out and find my second wind.

I ended up lying down on my side while I waited. I was so exhausted, and I knew I'd pass out without the help of adrenaline. Without the constant threat of death looming over me, I couldn't function on this much sleep.

The acid burn on my back still stung. I had to shift to lie comfortably, but I was tired enough that the pain didn't keep me from closing my eyes.

A loud growl startled me just as I was about to fall asleep and I bolted upright with a jolt. I rubbed at my bleary eyes, blinking in the darkness. It was warm, it was dark . . . I just wanted to sleep. When could I sleep?

At this rate, probably not until I was dead.

"Hmm?" I hummed, trying to focus long enough to see what he wanted to show me. My shoulder was stiff and the skin tight, and I kept my arm tucked against my chest.

The drone wasn't completely gutted like what we did with fish. He'd only cut up parts of it and detached the head. I had no real idea of how he'd done any of that.

It's skull was a little mangled, parts of the spine were missing . . . I wished I had paid attention, but the short nap I had taken was probably more important than my curiosity.

I examined the dead body from where I sat, wondering what he was doing. When the body gave no clues, I glanced at him. He was holding something in his hand, and I forced my eyes to focus on it.

A small, under-developed skull dangled from a leather thong, a few pieces of vertebrae and teeth lining it on either side. It looked like . . . a necklace? Maybe?

"Are these . . . ." I lifted my hand tentatively, waiting for a rebuke, but when it didn't come I held the skull in my hand. It looked like a chestburster head.

I glanced up at him, unsure of what to think. "Are these, like . . . my trophies?"

He nodded and thrust his hand forward, insisting I take it. I rubbed my fingers against my palms, nervous about touching weird alien bones. I didn't want to be rude, though, so I took the trinket from him and looked it over.

The bones were clean and perfectly bleached. I didn't see any tools around, so I wondered how he'd managed that in such a short time. Probably portable ones he'd already put away.

Why did he make this trinket, instead of something else? The other hunters of the ship mounted skulls on the wall, so I didn't understand why he made such a bauble.

The head was obviously too big to take. It would be cumbersome while traveling the ship. He likely wouldn't want me mounting it over my mantle at home, either.

I studied him for a few seconds to see if he wore anything similar and did recognize a few things here and there attached to his person. A string of bones at his hips, two small skulls dangling around his neck. Maybe it was more common than I realized.

I rotated the skull in my hands, wondering where he'd picked it up. It wouldn't be some random thing he'd found or killed. It would be something like the vertebrae and teeth from the drone I'd slain, it would be something I'd killed, but the only one was . . .

My eyes widened and I rubbed my index finger over the smooth forehead.

/It can't be. He wouldn't./

"Is this . . . from . . ." I had a hard time trying to say it. It felt like my throat was going to swell shut if I tried. I took a steadying breath and looked up at him. "From my friend . . . ?"

When had he had the time? The last thing I saw of him was his back receding as he led the Echo away. Between that and my wandering, how would he have had the time to ditch the Echo, find the chestburster, then me?

As if I needed more proof that this guy wasn't human.

He nodded his head, and I fought to control my expression. It twisted first into horror before I wrestled it into a neutral, flat stare.

Then I just had to stop myself from hurling it down the hallway in disgust.

This was his way of saying he was sorry, that he held some sort of sympathy for me. Or maybe this was just custom in his culture.

I didn't know why; didn't know what it would be for. It was the centerpiece of this trophy, instead of the kill I'd made solo. Obviously it meant something to him, and he thought it would mean something to me.

But to me, it wasn't anything but salt in the wound.

How could he know it would be a constant reminder of my mistakes? The fact that it was my fault it had happened?

Anger battled with grief. He hadn't meant this to hurt me. My fingers tightened around the strap holding the trinket together and I chewed on my bottom lip. Tears welled in my eyes; the gesture infuriated and touched me.

But I could fake it.

I had gone through years and years of terrible Christmas presents, mediocre birthday gifts . . . I had practiced false gratitude all my life.

The fact that he thought it was important should have honored me. He was honoring my friend, in his own alien way, and I had to try to respect that. Her death was still fresh in my mind. With time maybe it would make more sense.

So I forced down the initial, gut-wrenching reaction, and tried to see it for what it was: a testament to all that had happened. A reminder that I was stronger than I thought, and that Jess's death hadn't gone unpunished.

None of their deaths would. I would do everything in my power to make sure we killed every fucking one of them. My resolve was set, not just a spur of the moment vow while I was fighting for my life.

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, then looked up at Wolf with a forced smile. My voice was hoarse when I spoke. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

Wolf rolled his shoulders and babbled something under his breath. He was already on his feet, and he heaved me up by the back of my jacket as well so we were both standing.

I protested mildly at the manhandling but steadied myself and straightened my clothes. When he turned his back to lead me onward, I did what I thought would please him: tied the necklace-trophy around my neck.

Even it was all kinds of morbid, the last thing I wanted to do was insult him. Maybe I'd learn to like it. Though I wasn't fond of the gift, it was the thought that counts.

Before he could pull too far ahead, I bent down to pick up my weapon and jogged after him.

The necklace bounced heavily with the dog tags and I held it down. Despite the gloomy reminder, I told myself it was an honor. It was him telling me I wasn't just his bait. Maybe not quite an equal, but I was worth something.

The ship had fallen silent except for an ominous screeching somewhere in the bowels. It echoed through the corridors and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Something about it was familiar, but quite unlike the screeches I had become accustomed to. Not the Echo . . . not a drone . . . so, what?

Nothing stirred in the hallways. Not even a stray facehugger skittered along the ground. The Echo had even fallen into obscurity. It was unnerving.

"Where'd everything go? Did we kill them all?" I asked in a misguided attempt at some humor.

Wolf didn't dignify my stupid question with a response.

Sighing, I trudged after him with my weapon held the way he had shown me. It felt strange, but I was slowly growing accustomed to it.

From time to time when I thought Wolf wasn't looking, I'd turn my wrist to a more natural resting position, but he'd always turn and smack me for it. Made me wonder if he had eyes in the back of his head like my parents did.

I wasn't sure why it mattered so much. What did it matter HOW I was holding it so long as I still hacked something apart?

Making him mad seemed like a poor choice, though, so I went with it. If it helped me kill aliens better, then so be it.

He lead us expertly through the dark halls for what could have been the better part of half an hour. The first few twists and turns had me tense and ready for action, but the longer we went without interruption or event, the more I relaxed. If nothing was going to happen, I couldn't keep up the levels of adrenaline necessary to stay on edge.

And, of course, the fatigue threatened to overtake me. I fought against it and rubbed the weariness from my eyes.

However, the further we traveled, the louder that strange screeching became. Eventually, the familiar sound of the Echo joined it. Then, seconds later, I could barely make out bellows that stirred my memory—a sound I was vaguely acquainted with.

It was coming from far into the depths of the ship, but it was enough to bring Wolf to pause. I waited for him to finish listening, and then he took off at a faster pace.

His increased urgency and the roars clicked together in my mind.

"Friend of yours?" I panted between breaths.

Again he ignored my questions, sparing me only a brief, sidelong glance.

The rolling cry of the Echo took a sudden change and Wolf put his arm out to stop me, skidding to a halt himself. I crashed against him and he pushed me up to the wall just as the Echo slammed into the hallway, collapsing in a heap when it ran headfirst into the wall across from it.

Stupid thing still seemed to have trouble with corners.

My breath caught in my throat and I watched from around Wolf's bulk as it untangled itself. It gave its head a hefty shake, then trained its sightless gaze on us.

As a whole, its head was not dissimilar to the drones running everywhere—elongated skull, jaw full of teeth—it was perhaps wider and flatter, but the body was the main difference.

It was still biomechanical in design, but it skittered along on six legs instead of two or four. The front two were the biggest of the limbs, powering it along. Its head sat on a muscular and wide thorax, while its abdomen was the most streamlined part. It, too, sported a barbed tail.

The thing took up the entire hallway, blocking our path, and it had noticed us. Wolf's buddy was going to have to wait.

As if it was surprised to see us, the Echo spent a few precious seconds staring.

Wolf made the first move; with a flex of muscle, his gauntlet blades extended. The hiss of metal pierced the silence and elicited a strangled pulse of sound from the Echo.

It charged toward us, tossing its head like a raging bull. My legs tensed to run, but Wolf grabbed my arm and held me still. It closed the twenty-yard gap quickly, and every instinct was telling me to run, but Wolf would not budge.

He held his ground with a fierce pride, and I had enough time to wonder if he was trying to teach me another lesson.

/"Stand your ground!"/

/"Never back down!"/

Shit like that. I wanted to stay, but the thing was so much bigger than the normal drones. I had barely survived my first armed, solo encounter with one of them as it was.

Suddenly, he yanked me toward him and nearly wrenched my arm out of its socket doing so. I was powerless to keep my footing as I was pulled forward, and he let go of my arm to fist the back of my jacket.

With inhuman strength, he hurled me down the hallway—right at the giant alien parasite.

I had the grace to withhold my scream of fear, and instead, I closed my eyes tight so I wouldn't have to watch myself get trampled.

The ground came up to meet me and I hit it hard. Though it knocked the wind from my lungs, the impact didn't break anything. I skidded across the floor for a few inches on some slime before coming to an abrupt stop.

Instantly, I curled up with my hands over my head and neck.

Half a foot of clearance—maybe, it was hard to tell through half-opened eyes. If I was Wolf's size, I would have been struck by its underbelly. There was plenty of room between left and right legs, given I wasn't lying horizontally.

As it was, I was curled into the fetal position and was spared being crushed to death by the thing thundering over me, still charging at Wolf.

Half a second passed and I decided I wasn't going to be flattened. I flipped over to my stomach, wincing against various new pains and several old ones. I heard Wolf's bellows on the other side.

When my wits returned, my face burned with embarrassment and shame. I cursed under my breath and smacked the floor with my palm before scrambling up.

/Shoulda cut the thing open! Like in the movies!/

Soon as the thought crossed my mind, I remembered the whole ACID FOR BLOOD bullshit. That wasn't something I particularly wanted to bathe in, and it probably wasn't why Wolf threw me—almost literally—under the bus.

While the Echo was busy trying to pound Wolf into the ground with its massive forelegs, I looked for an opening I could use.

It wasn't after me, so I now had the advantage of being behind it.

One step . . . another . . . another . . . inching my way to the Echo's exposed back. I leaned down to pick up my blade again, having dropped it sometime after landing.

My throat and mouth were dry. I had to grip the hilt tighter to keep it from slipping in my sweaty palms. All of Wolf's slapdash tutelage went out the window and I fell back to what was comfortable.

Swinging a bat.

Wolf gained ground with a couple of well-placed shots from his shoulder cannon and the Echo took a massive step back, screeching. I lost my nerve and stumbled away, barely dodging its swinging tail as it tried to balance.

When I stood again, I took four or five quick breaths.

/Don't lose focus. Don't let fear win. Just go./

After one last breath, I rushed in. Wolf lost ground and the Echo moved forward. His blade met hard talons in a solid clash, but it all dimmed as my adrenaline spiked. My vision tunneled.

Its tail swung and startled me. I lashed out of surprise, swinging with both hands even though I knew Wolf would be pissy about it later. Right then, all that mattered was results—and that was just what I got.

The business end of my sword sliced through chitin and bone. My raised arms shielded my face from any blood droplets, and if they ate through my sleeves I didn't feel it.

Its tail snapped right off, flopping to the floor.

/I did it!/ I thought for a brief moment, watching the tail twitch and jump. It only lasted a second, and then fell still.

The Echo snarled and tried to turn around, only to wedge itself between the walls. It scrabbled for purchase, sending out its pulses to see what had chopped its tail off.

I fell as far back as I dared: it was lashing its tail all around with its flailing, threatening me with a spray of acid.

Though the beast was stuck, I couldn't get anywhere near it with that bleeding tail on my side of the hallway.

Wolf attacked from his end, but all it did was spur the Echo onward. It popped free at last—facing me. My heart fell into my shoes.

I could put up bravado when the creature wasn't looking right at me, but all my courage fled when three tons of beast were coming my way.

I held my ground for all of two seconds, trying to find the nerve that would make Wolf proud, but I couldn't dig deep enough. So I turned tail and ran.