The Last Trip Of The Last Resort

Pushing herself against the metal wall, Captain Annie O’Connell tried to hold her breath back, in spite of her agitation: this was one of the worst days to breathe fast, what with oxygen aboard running out in roughly five minutes.

The sudden blackout had knocked out lights, comms, life support, everything. Dead in the black, her beloved Last Resort was now drifting towards Umbrium, the system’s main star. To top it all off, a group of hostiles was literally banging at her door. Since her current job would be paying enough for her to retire right after, a hefty degree of risk had to be expected; this, however, this was just overkill.

She blew a curl of sandy hair off her brow as she finished syncing her wrist timer to keep track of the oxygen deadline. Pulling her ancient Colt 1911 from beneath her aviator jacket, she checked the magazine, then proceeded to repeatedly slam the heel of her hand against her forehead; of all the days to skip reloading. And that’s when she heard the airlock’s door loudly clanging against the floor: the boarding party had punched through.

Annie peeked out, and she saw them: hulking Krog'ohrr brutes, lumbering down the corridor, their arms so long their hairy knuckles dragged on the polished floor. They weren’t smart, but they were ruthless, and they were a pain to kill. She nearly jumped when a heavily accented, vaguely highfalutin voice crackled through her ear-comm.

“What is the situation, Captain?”

Annie wanted to reply, but she couldn’t; her heart was beating too fast, and she was too busy trying to keep track of her visitors.

“Captain? Are you alive?”

“Yes, doc, still kickin’,” she whispered with a forceful exhalation. “Got a few non gratas onboard I gotta tend to ‘fore rebooting the system. How are our guests?”

“They are stable for the time being.”

“Alright, doc. I shouldn’t have trouble dealing with this lot but, just in case, keep your spear handy, will ya?.”

“It’s called a-,” started the doctor.

“I know what it’s called. It’s pronouncing it that’s the problem. Stay safe, doc.”

Fully aware that there would be no answer, Annie checked her wrist timer, cursed under her breath, and risked another peek. The entire kill squad was out of sight, but she could hear their heavy tromps echoing somewhere nearby. They had split up; while that made them easier to pick off, it also made it more time-consuming. That wouldn’t do. Nodding emphatically to herself, she took off down the hallway.

- - - 0 - - -

The exertion it took to set up her little theater of war in cargo bay 3 would have stolen her breath any day; today, the rarefied atmosphere and the time crunch weren’t doing her any favors. Annie took one last look around, gave herself a curt nod and raised her gun. Pointing at the ceiling, she inhaled deeply, exhaled with a huff, and pulled the trigger.

The response came in an instant: it began as scattered, ululating howls in the distance, then a rumble like an elephant stampede (if the recordings at the Keep were to be believed), and soon enough a head like a misshapen boulder appeared in the doorframe. A bony brow scrunched down as three beady eyes zeroed in on the slight figure standing in the middle of the room.

Annie smiled like a dork and gave a little wave, which worked like a red cape on the bulls of old: the brute began howling savagely, the whole pack joining in a split second later. Taking her cue, Annie scurried off and vaulted over a metal crate.

The metal wall groaned loudly as it caved, and the invaders charged in, coming to a halt soon after. Several triads of eyes swept the area. A gunshot broke the partial silence, and one of the brutes howled, slamming its meaty paws on its face: the slug had taken two of its orbs. Mad with pain, the brute stumbled aimlessly, arms flailing in every possible direction. Like drunks in a bar, those caught by the swinging fists began pounding at their closest neighbor, who in turn got enraged and took to whacking someone else... until the whole pack was a perfect storm of mindless rampage.

Looking on from the catwalk above, Annie snickered briefly, before the thought of what she had to do next wiped her grin off. She couldn’t let the pack alone: if she was to ensure that they would do no harm, she would have to dispose of them... and inflict heavy damage to her darling in the process.

Slowly raising her Colt, Annie lined the sight with the auxiliary battery cluster that sat roughly five feet from the mayhem. I’m so sorry, Sortie, she thought as she looked away and pulled the trigger yet again.

Pierced by the slug, the towering battery burst, and a wave of acid fell upon the pack. Sitting in a corner, Annie shut her eyes tight and plugged her ears with her fingers. When the howling and the sizzling finally stopped, all that was left below her was a massive gap on the floor, a smattering of holes in nearby walls, and a caustic, eye watering stench. She whimpered at the sight, and then trotted off; the clock was ticking.

- - - 0 - - -

“We alright here, doc?”

Doctor Fern fixed their gaze on Annie as she entered bay 5, and stroked their chin tentacles. Their eyes were big as black holes, and almost as unsettling.

“The patients are asleep. Vitals should start to decline shortly.”

While she had found the doctor’s total lack of emotion disturbing in the beginning, Annie had come to accept it; all races had their quirks, just like humans did. She looked at the cage, and gave herself a moment to smile. Job payout aside, the two beasts within were truly beautiful. Breaking them out of the holding facility had been difficult, but so worth it. Soon they would be in their new home, among people who would work hard to pull them back from the brink of extinction.

Annie felt herself getting teary-eyed. A glance at her wrist timer sobered her right up.

“Okay, no problem. I can fix that as soon as I get to the console.” She patted her jacket at chest level, where the Colt rested. “I had just enough slugs for ‘em, thank Goddess. I forgot to reload after our daring escape.”

She regaled the doctor with an impish grin, even though she knew they wouldn’t appreciate it, and twirled on her heels. “Gimme a minute while I reboot the system.”

“That will not be possible, Captain.”

Annie intended to say what, but all she got out was gurk; looking down, she saw about four inches of the ritual spear poking out of her. A second later, the spear was yanked out; coughing and gasping, she backed into the wall before slipping down to a sitting position, from which she glared at the doctor.

“You know,” she began, but a harsh coughing fit cut her off. She wiped her lips with her arm and stared at the red smears. “You know, I was under the impression your ilk couldn’t be bought.”

“I do not understand.”

Annie snorted. “Don’t give me that load of vaskrit dung. You’re in cahoots with them.” She coughed again, worse than before; her breathing was becoming more labored. “Must’a been a sweet payout for you not to care about this last pair being used as a puppy factory, instead of properly cared for.”

“I understand now. You are mistaken. I am not aligned in any way with Next Echelon.”

“Right. And their drone just happened to know where to find Sortie so as to drop a load o’ brutes on my head. You’re gonna have to try harder, doc.”

Doctor Fern stared without so much as a blink.

“I did not have anything to do with that. This is about human hubris.”

“What... what in the sweet void are you talkin’ about?”

Their eyes fixed on Annie’s, the doctor gestured towards the cage. “These creatures were not driven to extinction by the recklessness of another race, as it happened to so many species on your old planet. These were meant to disappear, as it occurs from time to time, even without the involvement of a sentient race.”

Annie blinked. Right now, talking was too much effort, and she had no idea what to say.

“Human greed took them off my planet, to sell their offspring to the highest bidder. Human arrogance now seeks to place this species in a foreign locale they were never intended for. This disregard for the natural order must be stopped.”

The doctor paused. When they spoke again, something in their voice had changed.

“I thought the kill squad would dispatch you. I was wrong. The task must now be carried out by me.”

Doctor Fern dug their heels in, raised the spear, and closed their eyes. A gunshot rang out, sending a slug straight through their boneless, domed head.

Panting heavily, Annie stared at the empty Colt, then at the doctor, and finally flung the gun at the lifeless heap, loudly cursing in the languages of three different races. The one in the chamber was supposed to be her quick death; her safeguard against a gasping, breathless agony in the scorching arms of a supergiant.

Groaning and coughing throughout, she pushed herself to a standing position. She glanced at the cage once more: the animals were still asleep, blessedly oblivious to everything. Hugging her wounded side, Annie steadied herself against the wall and began limping towards the console that awaited several meters away.

Her timer had beeped about thirty-seven seconds ago.