Last Man Standing

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

The pool had begun to calm, its banks writhing as hundreds of black runnels shrunk from the glare of the temporary lights on the surrounding rock, and quickly snaked back into the larger body from which they had sloshed. With the last trickle, an immemorial silence returned to the cavern as the inky, living substance curled around, attracted to a slick of blood that had slowed but was still rising to the pool’s surface.

 

The blue flagellum of two antennae broached the pool and twitched. Steadily they emerged until a head of white hair appeared, grayish and slick with the inkiness into which it had plunged. Exposed to the bridge of his nose, he wavered a few seconds, waiting for any person or thing that might have slipped into the cavern while he was submerged to reveal themselves. Nothing was forthcoming and he disappeared again beneath the surface.

 

Just as the other disappeared, Ethan smoothly emerged and swept eyes over the dimly lit cavern, though his decoy had seemed to work. Feeling certain that he was alone for the moment, he emerged further, gasping and coughing somewhat. Their struggle hadn’t lasted long; but without forewarning, forced to struggle for his life under the water and already wounded, he was at the end of his lung capacity and willpower to overcome the urge to breathe.

 

Double-edged diving knife in hand, he reached out and sidestroked to shore, the blade lightly grinding as he gained purchase on the rock. He grimaced as he tensed his other shoulder and, with as much force as he could muster, drew Kelin’s limp body from beneath the surface of the pool by his LBE harness and heaved him over the bank. Kelin’s body landed there, dangling by the weight of his upper torso, and Ethan’s hand rested on Kelin’s harness until he was sure the body would stay.

 

Quietly but with evident strain, Ethan lifted himself over the bank and rolled to his back, propping up on his left elbow. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the cavern. He wiped the inky stuff from his face; then reached down and touched the spot that burned deeply on the right side of his abdomen beneath the edge of his carrier. Lifting his hand, he rubbed his blood-coated fingers together. He couldn’t remember being stabbed; only the sudden stabbing pains he’d felt when engaging the muscles to pull Kelin out of the water and the sequent burn. He checked himself over for more injuries that might have been masked by adrenaline. There was a deep, diagonal gash in his right arm; he remembered tearing it as he fell in, on a rock formation under the surface. He remembered Kelin’s first attack carving into his left back and flank where it was left exposed by the carrier. Everything else looked intact.

 

He sheathed his knife and regretfully looked at Kelin’s body where it lay next to him. What was left of the Andorian’s blue blood was slowly seeping from the wound in the side of his neck and spreading across the floor. It was ironic. Ethan had gone to great lengths to ensure his objective remained a secret; out of the hands of those who would use it to develop biological weapons. He hadn’t trusted very many as a result. Being vagabond mercenaries, he had trusted the Qob’s crew least of all, suspecting they were willing to take any job if the price was right. But it was one of the people he had trusted that ultimately set the failure of his mission in motion. Perhaps not by choice, given Kelin’s previous reliability and if Ethan was reading the circumstances right, but Kelin had set it in motion it nonetheless. They said the infection made some go mad; others grew diseased and died slowly, suffering.

 

But he couldn't die yet. He pulled a quikclot packet from his carrier and uncomfortably wedged the gauze into his stomach wound; he couldn't reach his flank to apply bandages and the gash on his arm was minimal in comparison. A grave expression written in his features, Ethan then reached out and closed Kelin’s eyes. He didn’t know how, but it had got into Kelin. And, by his hand forced in self-defense, the epidemic had claimed another innocent life among the hundreds before him. It would eventually claim Ethan’s. The loss of Kelin and the evident outcome was a blow to Ethan’s morale, but it wasn’t over yet. Countless more would die from it like them and those before them, if he didn’t finish.

 

He didn’t have long; the chances that medical intervention could reach him in time or do anything to stem the infection were slim. It had rushed into every open wound and place on his body while he was under the water, and he could feel it beginning to sap his energy as it coursed through him, overcoming his immune system en masse. The fever and organ failure would kill him, but if he survived by some miracle, he’d become a potential carrier. The samples he’d taken wouldn’t make it back. There would be no antiserum, no vaccine. It was a one-way trip now. For its victims, for Kelin, he had to blow the cave; bury this plague and trap it on this dead planet where it belonged. He would bury himself with it.

 

Solaced by the fact that he had the forethought to cling to Kelin’s harness in that bottomless pool, Ethan rolled the Andorian over and retrieved the explosives he had divided between them prior to transport. In total, he had six Comp U bricks -- a pastique of 45% ultritium and 30% nitroamines that was favored for its near-invisibility on conventional sensors -- and a couple grenades. Overkill for a job this size. He would use it all and blast this place into oblivion; he was convinced that he couldn’t overdo it.

 

Favoring the injury to his core, he climbed to his feet and picked up the rifle he had set down, leaving his ruck and the scattered sample vials where they lay. He wouldn’t need them. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and took a moment to listen for approaching footfalls, ready for uninvited company. Ensured no one was coming, he then began to work his way around the room, filling several crevices in the rock face with Comp U and detonators. On the opposite side of the pool, he leaned into the wall for support and gasped. Water dripped to the cavern floor as he stood hunched over at the waist, crippled by acute stomach cramps and bile churning up his throat. He was wearied almost beyond coherence, only half way there and straining to finish. The infection was spreading too fast.

 

Almost done, he privately urged and spit out the bitter taste that had crept into the back of his mouth. He filled the remaining gaps in the rock with explosives, moving progressively slower and struggling to remain on his feet as he worked back towards Kelin’s body. Using the last of the Comp U, he leaned back on the rock and pulled the remote detonator from a pouch on his carrier. He fumbled with it, fighting against dimming sight and fingers that were refusing to work. The blood running down his arm and on his hands, mixing with the oily substance which covered him from head-to-toe, didn't help. He released the safety.

 

Then fell limp and all together collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Edited January 8, 2012 by Ethan Neufeld