THE HODMANDOD EFFECT

“This is incredible,” Trotter remarked.

She was staring into the electron remote monitor, watching a microscopic munch-fest take place. Leslie, who was helping Trotter while Flores was gathering samples, walked over to see what she was looking at.

“What’s going on?”

“I think I’ve found the answer,” Trotter replied, never taking her eyes from the screen. “You see those right there,” she said, pointing. “Those are the parasites. And, these here? These are the parasite eaters.”

Leslie leaned in to get a better look. There were green looking creatures creating a wave over the red parasites that were killing the crew. One by one, the cell walls of the parasites were being overcome by an enzyme secretion from the green microbes. Once penetrated, the newly discovered germs feasted on the internals of the parasites. It happened at an alarming rate that surprised both women.

“Look at them go,” Leslie said, smiling. “Where did you find these?”

“In the animal that Rooney brought me the other day,” Trotter answered. “They work in the same manner the parasites do. It’s the herding of the Hyacoms that allow the parasites to take hold on some of the animals here. They saturate an area and defecate profusely, spreading the parasites like a cloud when the wind comes. Some of the animals don’t have enough of these microbes in their system to compensate and fall victim. Others, like this one…have a built in immune system to fight for it.”

“How are they the same?”

Trotter lit a cigarette and drew deeply on the filter. The smoke escaped from her mouth as she spoke.

“First, back in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, we attacked malaria by use of certain drugs, the main one was Malarone. This was, in effect, a poison. It didn’t keep the malarial parasite from entering your body, but killed it once it was infused by the mosquito. It had a ninety-seven percent success rate, and still some people succumbed to the disease even though they were protected by it. This is what happens here between the microbes and the parasites when the Hyacoms do their shit-type carpet bombing.”

Trotter took another deep drag and continued.

“The microbe success rate isn’t as high as Malarone, but it’s effective enough to keep all the other mammalian species from going extinct. Now, when I said they work in the same way, this is what I meant.”

Trotter stood up and walked over to another monitor. Leslie followed her with intense interest. The doctor turned the monitor on to show her colleague what she was talking about.

“This is a magnified view of the test animal’s bowel contents. What you see here is millions of premature microbes ready to be deposited from the bowel. Once the animal defecates, it dries and the microbes are picked up by the wind. The animals breathe these in where they mature throughout the blood system. The evolution of this planet is such that they mature at the same time as the arrival of the nomadic Hyacoms. They start spreading their parasites at the same time these microbes become mature. They feed on the invaders and when they reach sexual maturity, travel to the bowel and deposit their babies. Thus, the circle continues.”

“Okay, but that leaves open several questions,” Leslie said. “Why don’t they affect the parasites in the Hyacoms? Don’t they breathe them in?”

“I don’t know why,” Trotter confessed.

“And why didn’t these microbes help us? Weren’t we breathing them in as well as the parasites?”

Trotter raised two fingers in the air, cigarette firmly held between them.

“I might have an answer for that one,” she said, rising again and walking to another analysis station. “Here we have a sample of Martinez’ brain. I tried to get the microbes to feed on the few remaining parasites that were alive. They died almost instantly. I think it has something to do with our carbon make-up. But, look what happened when I applied a germanium wash to another section of brain tissue.”

Trotter pushed a button that changed the monitor’s view to a time lapse video. The microbes immediately began to feast on the parasites. Leslie’s mouth dropped open.

“That’s incredible,” she whispered.

“That’s what I said five minutes ago,” Trotter replied. “We have to make our systems compatible to the microbes’ genetic make-up in order to allow them to work for us. What is necessary, I believe, is to infuse our systems with germanium.”

“Wouldn’t that be harmful to us?”

“No, no,” Trotter assured her. “Some germanium compounds have been utilized in humans because they are toxic to bacteria. However, it has been proven that the metal is harmless for mammals. On this planet, though, the microscopic beings thrive on germanium and carbon is toxic to them.”

“So, what’s the treatment?”

“I have to mix up a germanium cocktail for everyone,” Trotter explained. “It would need to be applied intravenously for maximum effect. After a couple of hours, I could then inject the microbes into the bloodstream. I would continue the germanium infusion, at low dosages, and wait for the results.”

“How long would that take?”

“About 48 hours,” Trotter told her. “Maybe more. It depends on how effective the germanium is in protecting our little friends and how quickly they can dispose of our little enemies. The good news is, I think this will work.”

“What about Courtney? Can we save her?” Leslie’s eyes grew wet with tears.

“I don’t know, my dear,” Trotter conceded. “It may be too late for her. The parasites have begun to die, and her brain along with it. Not to mention the pituitary gland.”

“You have to try,” Leslie begged. “You have to.”

“I intend to use her as my guinea pig,” Trotter confided. “She is so near death that it is only logical to try it out on her, first. If the treatment were to fail, then we would be back at square one. If it were to prove successful…well…you know the answer to that one.”

“But, if Courtney dies, how would we know?”

“The post mortem would tell us everything,” Trotter answered. “Just because she dies wouldn’t mean the treatment was what killed her. It could be the treatment works, and she dies anyway.”

“How can I help?”

“We need to work together on the computations,” Trotter said. “If I were to do it by myself, it would take too long. Flores is highly intelligent, but he’s slow.”

“Tell me what to do,” Leslie replied, smiling. “Let’s do this thing.”

**********

Rooney struggled against his bonds with everything he had until close to exhaustion.

Richardson made certain of them and left him with confidence that he wouldn’t be able to get away. The lieutenant kept his eyes on the Hyacoms nearby. At first, it seemed their hunger was abated by their feast on Flores and they went back into the water. However, for the last half hour, they were constantly looking in his direction, trying to ascertain if he were indeed their next meal.

The Danko was only ten feet away, but to Rooney it might as well have been a hundred miles. He was incapable of reaching it and believed Richardson left it just to torment him until the very end. How ironic to have your salvation only a few feet away while being ravaged by a bunch of dinosaurs.

The only hope he could count on was that Stone wouldn’t believe Richardson when he returned and reported his version of events. Rooney had to believe that Stone would come searching for him, unless Richardson was able to kill or stop him somehow. He was still in a state of shock over how the scientist was able to overcome him so easily. Richardson wasn’t only fast, but he was extremely powerful. The blows he inflicted on Rooney were the worst he had ever experienced. The man didn’t look like he was in any kind of physical shape to take on another man, much less a Federal States soldier. Yet, that’s exactly what he did and he did it with utmost precision. Rooney decided that if given another chance, he would not underestimate him again.

One of the Hyacoms was becoming more interested in Rooney as each minute passed. He was one of the larger ones, and he guessed it was a male. The beast moved from the water and fully up on the bank, staring at Rooney. The animal huffed a couple of times and pawed the ground, trying to see if he could get any reaction out of the object of his eye. The Hyacom lowered its head and extending the neck to its maximum reach. Its chin was only inches from the ground when it bellowed loudly, raising its head as the noise reached an almost deafening crescendo. The animal looked back at the others and grunted, as if telling them to come with him. It then turned its attention back to Rooney and slowly began advancing on him.

“Come on, Dawg,” Rooney whispered, using Stone’s nickname. “If I ever needed you it’s right now.”

He once again started to furiously strain and pull at his bonds, trying to get free. Rooney saw the other Hyacoms moving from the water, following the male leader. All eyes were now locked on Rooney, and he had only minutes left to live if he couldn’t get loose. He tore the flesh around his wrists, attempting to use his own blood as a grease to help him slip free. The pain was excruciating, but he was trained to concentrate on his mission and try to ignore it. Rooney was close to deciding his only hope was to rip both hands from the wrists. He would be useless as a soldier, but at least he would be alive.

The lead Hyacom was now only thirty yards away and moving in for the kill. Rooney began to sweat and shake from the thought of what was about to happen to him. He only had a few more moments to try and amputate his hands. The soldier squeezed both eyes shut and grimaced from the thought of what he was about to try. He had to remove all doubt from his mind and vacate any resistance to the pain he was about to feel. All of his training had told him that pain is the mechanism that keeps people from hurting themselves beyond repair. But, when it came to survival, pain had to be ignored, so the necessary could be accomplished. Rooney started to breathe in and out rapidly, blowing hard as he psyched himself up for the agony he was about to endure.

The Hyacom was close now…close enough for its breathing to be heard over Rooney’s.

He could smell its breath and feel the ground slightly shake from its massive weight as it relentlessly came toward him. It had to be now, he thought. He had to mutilate himself in order to survive this ordeal and live to tell the others about Richardson. It was the only option if he were to save Stone and take his revenge on the one who had left him there to die. He had to do it. With his eyes still shut, he braced himself, contracting every muscle in his arms, shoulders and upper body that would be needed to affect the double amputation.

Suddenly, his eyes opened from the shock of Danko fire and the furious screams of the lead Hyacom. He looked to see Fisk firing round after round into the animal that was only a few feet from striking distance and severing Rooney in half. Fisk’s clothes were dirty and torn. He was covered in dust and there were markings on his face and neck that indicated he had been beaten several days earlier.

The Hyacom that took the brunt of the blasts fell dead and Fisk directed his fire at the next closest one. It shrieked from the destructive force of the explosive shells and shuddered from the impacts. The others slowly turned, headed back to the presumed safety of the lake.

When the second Hyacom fell, Fisk watched to make sure the others were leaving. Satisfied they were, he ran to Rooney and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Man!” He yelled. “Am I glad to see you!”

“Not as much as I am to see you,” Rooney said. “Can you get me free?”

“Let me see,” Fisk advised, running to the other side of the tree to inspect Rooney’s predicament.

“What happened to you? Where have you been?” Rooney asked.

“That fucking Richardson and Davis,” Fisk growled, working on Rooney’s bonds. “They handed me over to those League sons of bitches. I’ve been held captive with them for a while now.”

“We thought you were dead,” Rooney told him.

“Dead?” Fisk chuckled. “Not yet, lieutenant.”

“How did you get away?”

“They have a doctor on board,” Fisk explained. “She’s a lot better lookin’ than Trotter, but she doesn’t have her mean streak. She knows her League guys are planning on killing any remnant of Federal States personnel. She also knows Earth is dead. She believes the only way we can all survive is to work together. So, she let me go to try and convince everyone on this side to make an attempt to talk to the ones in charge.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yeah,” Fisk said, pulling on one of the ropes holding Rooney. “But she’s an idealist and doesn’t understand how fanatical you guys are. There’s gonna be a fight, and nobody can stop it…just win it or lose it.”

Fisk walked around the tree so he could look at Rooney.

“The only thing left is the cuffs, lieutenant,” he said. “I don’t have any way of getting those off.”

“Damn,” Rooney said. “What about the Danko?”

“Hell, lieutenant,” Fisk remarked. “If I use that I could blow your hands off.”

“I was going to pull them off anyway,” Rooney said.

“You were?” Fisk said with surprise.

“Yes, sir,” Rooney confirmed. “Better than getting eaten by those things.”

Fisk turned and looked at the two dead animals.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But…is that even possible? To pull your hands off?”

“I don’t know, but I was going to give it my best effort. Now, use the Danko. Do it,” Rooney ordered, even though Fisk was his superior officer. “Aim as best you can. Be on this side of the tree as much as you can. I don’t need you to be slowing me down because you blew off a toe or something.”

“Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Right handed,” Rooney advised.

Fisk took up the Danko and moved to Rooney’s right, shielding himself as best he could with the trunk of the tree. Rooney pulled the cuffs apart as far as he could, spreading his hands and fingers outward to their fullest ability. Fisk put the muzzle of the Danko next to the chain on the cuffs and pulled the trigger. At that proximity, the blast was deafening when the explosive charge detonated halfway between the chain and the ground. The concussion knocked Fisk off his feet and flew him backward more than three yards. He landed on his back with a thud, almost knocking the wind out of him. The chain was successfully severed, along with Rooney’s left little and ring fingers. He figured it was a better deal than losing both hands.

Rooney dropped to his knees and held his left hand, trying to control the pain. Fisk tore a strip from his shirt and helped Rooney wrap the affected hand to stem the flow of blood. Rooney stood up and grabbed the Danko, inspecting it. He found that it had seven rounds left in the magazine…more than enough to do what he intended.

“You say Davis was in on it?” He asked Fisk.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Hook, line and sinker.”

“Are you ready for a forced march at double time?” Rooney questioned, looking at him with doubt.

“I may not be able to keep up with you,” he said, “but I’ll be behind you…coming all the

way.”

“When I get there, I’m going to kill Richardson and Davis. If I’m dead when you get there, and either one of them are alive, I’d appreciate it if you finished the job.”

Fisk nodded and smiled.

“With pleasure, lieutenant.”

**********

Rogers was sitting in the bridge and heard the alarm of the sensor monitor. He leaned over and pushed a toggle switch, bringing it to life. He saw the rover approaching and was shocked to see only Richardson inside. Rogers turned on the ship wide intercom.

“Davis and BOB-1,” he said. “Meet me at the main hatch.”

He didn’t alert Stone, knowing that he was outside on guard duty and more than likely knew before he did that the rover was on its way in. Rogers grabbed an AK-47 that was sitting close by and trotted to the main hatch. It only took him a few seconds to get there and he saw BOB-1 rolling toward him.

“Where’s Davis?” He asked the robot.

“Unknown,” it replied.

Rogers walked to a wall com and hit a button.

“Davis? Doctor Davis? Get your tail to the main hatch, on the double.”

He let go of the button, waiting for a response. He heard nothing.

“Shit!” He exclaimed. “Come on, Bob.”

Rogers opened a locked cabinet and withdrew two AK-47’s. He affixed them both to BOB-1 and loaded them fully with ammunition. The two went into the decontamination chamber and shut the door behind them. Seeing that it was secure, Rogers opened the exit and stepped outside just as Richardson was bringing the Rover to a stop. To Rogers’ left was Stone coming out of hiding. He was walking slowly, his Danko at the ready. The sergeant took on a grim look when he didn’t see the lieutenant.

Inside the vessel, Trotter was finishing her calculations. Leslie had taken a break and was sleeping in her cabin. An ashtray close by was filled to overflowing with cigarette butts, a testimony to the long hours she had put in to save those that were left. She put her writing instrument down and rubbed both eyes. They were red from constant analysis and calculating in dim light. She looked back at the notes and smiled. All she had to do now was put a period at the end of the last sentence and she was done. If the treatment were followed as she was going to prescribe, she was almost certain it would work. Her tests had been successful, but she knew as every other doctor did that sometimes things that work in the lab do not necessarily work out in

practice. Trotter leaned back, arms outstretched on the desk. It was time to get Leslie and try out the treatment on Courtney.

Before she could rise, a thin, metal wire wrapped around her neck and pulled tightly against her throat. The garrote cut into her skin and quickly slid deeper into the flesh. Trotter grabbed at the intrusive instrument of death, trying in vain to put distance between it and the vital portions within her throat. Her attacker jerked on the wire with violent strength, causing the wire to slice through Trotter’s thyroid cartilage and larynx. The doctor’s eyes bulged and her tongue swelled to the outside of her mouth, saliva mixed with blood drained outward in torrents down her chin. Her arms slowly became limp and her knees buckled, the woman’s own weight now assisting with the assassin’s efforts to sap the life from her. Air bubbles escaped from the torn flesh as she gurgled a few last, futile breaths. Urine soaked the pants she wore as death crept over her. Convinced she was dead, the person behind Trotter let go of her body and it fell to the floor. Both feet were slightly twitching, but there was no doubt that Doctor Trotter was dead.

Outside, Stone walked up to the rover and pointed the Danko at Richardson. He got out of the vehicle and glared at the sergeant.

“Point that thing somewhere else,” he demanded.

Stone ignored him, keeping it trained on his midsection. Richardson turned his attention to Rogers and walked up to him.

“Where’s Flores and Rooney?” Rogers asked.

“Dead,” Richardson said, glancing at Stone to see his reaction. The sergeant’s expression didn’t change, nor did his aim.

“What happened?”

“We got ambushed by League soldiers. Rooney put up a good fight, but they got him with a grenade. Flores and me tried to run and he took one in the back. I barely got out alive.”

Stone, disregarding the lieutenant’s orders, removed the RFM so he could speak. “Did you see the lieutenant die?” Stone grumbled, walking slowly to Richardson. “Or

were you too busy running like a coward?”

“Stand down, sergeant,” Rogers ordered, stopping Stone in his tracks. He looked back at

Richardson.

“How many were there?”

“Hard to say, commander,” Richardson said. “It had to be around five or six.” Stone spat, the spittle hitting Richardson’s right boot.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Stone coldly told him.

“I said to stand down, sergeant!” Rogers exclaimed. “Did they hit you at the coordinates we specified?”

“Right at them,” Richardson replied, glaring at Stone.

Richardson suddenly put a hand to his right ear, as if listening to something.

“What is it?” Rogers asked. “Are you all right?”

Richardson nodded like he was responding to receiving information. He looked up at Rogers and smiled.

“I’m just fine,” he said.

He lunged at Stone, knocking the muzzle from being aimed at his body and both men went to the ground, the Danko flying from Stone’s hand. Rogers hesitated for a moment and then jumped into action. He flipped the safety on the AK to ‘Off’ and trained the weapon on Richardson’s back while he was struggling with Stone.

“Get away from him!” Rogers yelled. “Get away or I’ll shoot!”

Richardson grabbed Stone by the throat and began to squeeze. Stone managed to squeak at Rogers.

“Shoot him,” he grumbled in a restricted whisper. “Shoot him.”

Rogers pulled the trigger, striking Richardson in the back with several rounds. The man’s back arched from the impacts and he lessened the grip he had on Stone. Rogers was taken aback by the sparks and ensuing smoke that flew outward with every bullet that struck his target. The diversion allowed Stone to throw Richardson to the side. He grabbed at his throat with one hand and tried to crawl to the Danko that had been knocked from his hands.

Richardson jumped to his feet with cat-like quickness and reached Rogers in two strides. Rogers fired again at point blank range, managing to get off three rounds before being hurtled backward with a solid blow to his solar plexus. Rogers’ head hit the entrance ramp. The force of the impact knocked him out. Richardson turned his head to see Stone only inches from the Danko. He leapt into the air and landed on top of the weapon with one foot, the other on the back of Stone’s neck.

“I told Rooney I was going to kill you,” he said. “And I never break a promise.”

Richardson reached down and pulled Stone to his feet. The sergeant head butted Richardson and cried out in pain, his nose broken. Richardson threw him ten feet away where he landed on the ground.

“It’s too bad Earth was dying,” he said, walking menacingly toward the sergeant. “With an army like me, the Federal States would have fallen in weeks.”

Stone’s eyes were blurred with tears, the pain from his bleeding and broken nose causing them to water. Before Richardson could react, Stone pulled his Chidi-19 side arm and pulled the trigger. The .357 magnum explosive shell hit Richardson in the left shoulder. The resultant blast took off the shoulder and Richardson’s arm, knocking him off his feet. Unable to see clearly,

Stone fired eight more rounds but hit nothing. He was pushing with his feet and pulling with his free elbow, trying to create enough distance between them so he could get his vision back.

Richardson sat up, shaking his head. Wires and electronic components stuck out from the part of his torso where the shoulder once was. Hydraulic fluid spurted several inches from the gaping wound the Chidi-19 had made. The left side of Richardson’s face was scarred and burnt, the bionic eye hanging from its socket by two wires. Sparks and smoke were coming from him as he clumsily stood on his feet. Richardson looked at BOB-1. The robot hadn’t moved to intervene. When Richardson spoke, the sound of his voice sounded like it was coming from a damaged speaker and was almost monotone.

“Robot,” he said, “8PlutoOne directive…activate.”

BOB-1 made a quick about face and moved quickly to the entrance ramp of the vessel. Richardson made sure the robot was on his way to carry out its mission and then turned his attention back to Stone. He haltingly walked toward the sergeant, intent on making the kill.

By now, Stone had regained decent vision in one eye and watched the monstrosity coming toward him. He hesitated for a fleeting moment in surprise and then trained the Chidi on the oncoming Richardson. The android kicked a cloud of dust into Stone’s face and ducked just as the sergeant fired. Richardson rolled as Stone emptied the clip into nothing but air. Both of the combatants rose to their feet and faced off.

Richardson rushed through the cloud of dust and was met with a solid kick to the face, throwing him off balance. Stone followed with a perfectly executed round house that knocked

Richardson off his feet. Both kicks sent massive pain through Stone’s legs, as if he had just kicked solid steel. He also fell down, clutching his right shin. Richardson slowly stood up and continued his advance on the sergeant.

Stone tried to back away, but Richardson leaned down and grabbed him by an ankle. He pulled Stone to him and placed the sole of a foot in his crotch.

“I’m going to pull you apart, sergeant,” he said with his new robotic voice and half a smile. “And see what’s inside.”

Richardson’s entire torso exploded, showering Stone with electronic parts, hydraulic fluid and sparks. The android fell over into a useless, smoldering heap. Stone rolled over and saw Rogers lying on the ground, the muzzle of the Danko smoking. Blood was streaking down his face and he was suffering from a concussion, but the commander had come through. Stone ran to him and took the weapon from his hands.

“I’ve got to stop Bob,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but Richardson…or whatever…told him to do something. It can’t be good for us.”

“Go!” Rogers yelled, resting his head on an outstretched arm.

Stone ran to the ship and disappeared within the interior. He had only been gone a few seconds when Davis appeared with two, stainless steel carrying cases. He calmly walked by Rogers and loaded them into one of the rovers. Rogers looked up and watched him with

curiosity. Without saying a word to Rogers, Davis got in the rover and started it. He put it into gear and drove away, not looking back.

The sergeant made his way to Constance’s quarters. He found her studying some of her work and told her to find Leslie and Trotter, then to go outside to help Rogers into one of the rovers. She was shocked by his broken nose and the blood that was congealing on his face and chest. Just the sight of him told her that he was serious and that she must do what he was asking of her.

“And then get out of here,” he said. “Use the coordinates Rogers gives you and try to find out if Rooney and Flores are still alive. I’ll use the other one to get to you. And if you see Davis, kill him.”

“With what?” Constance asked, suddenly afraid.

Stone reloaded the Chidi-19 with a fresh clip and handed it to her.

“With that,” he said. “Shoot him until it won’t shoot anymore.”

Constance quickly left Stone behind and ran to Leslie’s quarters. She knocked loudly on the door until Leslie threw it open with an angry look.

“What is it, Constance?!”

“We have to get out of here!” She exclaimed. “Stone thinks Bob’s trying to do something to the ship.”

“What?” Leslie was incredulous.

“Richardson came back without Flores and Rooney,” Constance told her, speaking as fast as she was able. “He attacked Rogers and Stone. We have to get Stephanie and leave; now!”

The two women ran down the corridor and to the infirmary. They both screamed and held each other when they saw Trotter’s body lying dead on the floor.

“Who could have done that?” Leslie said amid tears.

“I don’t know, but we have to get out of here,” Constance warned. She tugged on Leslie’s arms but she threw herself from the grip.

“Wait! We have to get her notes,” Leslie said, rushing in. “If we don’t, we’re all dead anyway.”

She searched the room as quickly as she could but found nothing. Leslie turned on Trotter’s computer and discovered the hard drive had been erased. Whoever had killed Trotter took the cure with them. Leslie slammed a fist on the desk.

“Damn!” She said.

“Let’s go, Leslie,” Constance demanded. “We have to go!”

Reluctant to give up the search, Leslie knew from Constance’s demeanor that she shouldn’t wait any longer. She ran out and to the exit with Constance in the lead. They rushed outside to see Rogers sitting up, a nasty gash on his head but otherwise all right. As they assisted him into the rover, they couldn’t help but stare at Richardson’s remains, amazed at the technology. Leslie gave Rogers the news about Trotter.

“He had us fooled all along,” Constance muttered. “He was a fucking robot all this time.” “A damned good one, too,” Rogers commented, wincing as he sat in the rover.

“How will Stone get away?” Constance asked. “He won’t have a rover.”

“We’ll come back for him,” Rogers assured her. “Now drive.”

With all three inside and moving, Rogers gave Constance the coordinates she would need for them to look for Rooney and Flores. The commander also told them it was most likely Davis who killed Trotter and took the results of her work that could have saved them.

**********

Stone was moving stealthily in the deepest bowels of the ship. BOB-1 had turned off all lighting to hinder anyone who might be in pursuit, forcing the sergeant to use the muzzle light on the Danko. He took a chance and decided BOB-1 would be in the engine room, close to the matter/anti-matter chamber. If he were able to destabilize the chamber and allow the two to meet, they would go up like the biggest fireworks demonstration in the universe. He wasn’t sure that’s what the robot was up to, but it was his best guess.

The intercom suddenly came on, forcing Stone to cease progress and crouch in a defensive posture. It was BOB-1.

“Movement sensors have detected an unauthorized presence in this a restricted area,” it said. “Please vacate immediately.”

“I can’t do that Bob,” Stone said, hoping the transmission part of the intercom was still operative. “This is Sergeant Roderick Stone, Bob. I have clearance to be down here.”

Stone started his progress once again.

“Sergeant Stone. Your clearance has been revoked. Please vacate the area immediately.”

“Who revoked it, Bob? By whose authority? I wasn’t informed.”

“Non-sequitur, sergeant. Automatic defense systems shall be activated if you proceed further. Please vacate the area immediately.”

“Sorry, Bob,” Stone said, moving cautiously. “I need to see what you’re up to.”

The sergeant continued down the small corridor lined with piping and conduits for electrical and plasma energy routings. One of the pipes was filled with hydrogen-plasma steam, used for regulating the temperature throughout the ship. Thirty feet ahead of his position, Stone heard a shot ring out. The bullet ruptured the pipe, sending a hot stream of plasma shooting into the corridor. Stone quickly retreated to an emergency cabinet and donned a self-contained breathing apparatus. It had enough oxygen for thirty minutes’ use. Stone sped up his pursuit of BOB-1, even though the hot plasma burned his skin and filled the corridor with a blinding fog.

Several more shots fired in his direction, striking electrical lines and showering sparks onto Stone’s body. He flattened himself against the wall, making himself as small as possible. The plasma fog kept him from seeing his antagonist and he wondered if the same was true for BOB-1. If the robot could see through it, he thought, this wasn’t going to last long. A few seconds later he made it to the spot where the plasma steam was spewing from the bullet hole. Crouching down, he duck-walked underneath the stream and continued forward. Another shot was fired and the bullet tore through Stone’s right deltoid muscle, leaving a nasty exit wound on the other side. Stone had enough and returned fire with the Danko, firing four explosive rounds in front of him. He quickly lay flat on the corridor floor, expecting return fire. Instead, he heard only the hissing of the plasma steam behind him. Ignoring the pain in his arm, Stone took to his feet and marched onward with the Danko at the ready.

“You don’t have to do this, Bob,” Stone said. “Why can’t we talk about it?”

His words were met with silence as he continued down the corridor. He finally came to a section that turned left. The plasma steam was quite dissipated at this area, helping Stone to see what the Danko had done to the opposite wall. BOB-1 must have quickly retreated when he saw he was outgunned. Four huge gouges had been dug out of the steel hull where Stone’s depleted uranium shells had hit and blown up. If BOB-1 had been hit with just a single round, it would have incapacitated him.

Stone quickly glanced around the corner. BOB-1 was indeed inside the chamber, but he had shut and sealed the door behind him. The sergeant ran the twenty feet up to the door and found it locked. He ran back to the turn in the corridor and took cover behind the wall. Reaching around with the Danko on full automatic, he unleashed a concentrated fire on the door. The explosions were deafening as each round hit the target and detonated in rapid succession. With only one round left, the door flew off its hinges and banged on the floor inside. Smoke filled the corridor as BOB-1 laid down heavy suppression fire from his AK-47 rifles. Stone kept behind the corner, hoping none of the bullets would ricochet into him. In a few seconds, all went quiet again.

Throughout his career, the sergeant never liked to be dug in or on the defensive. He always believed the best defense was to attack and keep on attacking until the enemy was dead or had surrendered. He thrust himself into the corridor and ran headlong to the chamber, screaming his war yell as he did. The burly man threw his body inside and was barely missed by an electrical discharge from the robot. He landed on his side and turned the Danko around, lighting BOB-1 up with the laser sight. Stone pulled the trigger with him only four feet from the robot. The shell hit BOB-1 and exploded, sending shards of metal and other shrapnel in several

directions, two of which sheared through his armor plating and embedded in Stone’s chest. Another three found their way into his thighs and one buried deep in his left calf muscle.

He lay down and tried to catch his breath. The shards sticking out of his chest had not penetrated the cavity or damaged any major organs…but they hurt. He looked at the matter/anti- matter containment field and saw that BOB-1 hadn’t had time to initiate his program. For several minutes he lay there, not looking forward to what he had to do next. Sitting up, Stone took the shards from his chest and legs, barely grunting with each extraction. Bloodied and bruised, he stood up and left the chamber. He needed some fresh air and he didn’t care how many parasites he had to breathe in to get it. He limped badly as he made his way outside.

It took several minutes, but Stone eventually made it to the exterior of the ship. He sat on a supply box, gingerly nursing his wounds with a first aid kit he picked up on the way out. Stone looked up to see dust rising on the horizon. He made no move to hide. If they were un-friendlies, he would meet them head on. If they weren’t, then there wasn’t any reason to get under cover. Soon, he could make out the rover. In it was Rooney and the others…and then he recognized Fisk. Stone hung his head and laughed. What next?, he thought.

The rover drove up and came to a sudden stop. Rooney jumped out before it halted and ran to his sergeant. He knelt down in front of Stone and smiled.

“Good job, sergeant,” Rooney said.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I hope there’s a medal in this for me.”

They both laughed and Rooney stood up.

“I’ll make sure the next army we’re in gives you one.”

Constance jumped from the rover and ran to Stone’s side, inspecting the damage.

“What about Courtney?” She asked.

“I haven’t checked, darlin’,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I saw that Trotter was dead on the way out.”

“Davis,” Rooney muttered. “Rogers and Leslie tell me he also took the cure for these parasites. She says it’s got a good chance of working.”

Stone stood up with great difficulty. Every muscle that wasn’t wounded was sore. Those that were wounded sent out pain waves up and down his body.

“Then I suggest we go get it,” Stone said. “And then kill the son of a bitch.”

“The only way we can do that is to take them on at their ship,” Rooney cautioned.

“That’s going to take more than what we have here.”

“Maybe so,” Stone said, “but we don’t have much choice. We don’t know when these others, and now us, are going to start coming under the parasites’ influence. The longer we wait, the more danger we’re in.”

The ship’s exterior alarm started to go off. It was a loud, recurring honk that was irritating to the ears, but was effective in letting the crew know when something or someone was approaching. Rogers had turned it on before coming out to meet Richardson. It was standard precaution when there wasn’t anyone manning the bridge.

Rogers ran inside with Rooney and looked at the monitor. Several League soldiers, in rovers, were approaching the ship. Rogers turned off the alarm and looked at Rooney.

“I guess when the ship didn’t blow they decided to send in the marines,” he said.

“That’s part of it,” Rooney replied. “The rest is that they didn’t get a message from

Richardson. Without him confirming that everything was under control, they had to assume he failed.”

“What do we do now?” Rogers asked.

“We do what me and Stone planned to do,” Rooney told him. “We take them on.”

Rogers scanned the monitor once again and shook his head.

“They’ve got at least twenty men coming at you,” he said. “You and Stone look like you’ve already fought an army…and lost.”

“Hell, commander,” Rooney said, smiling. “We’ve been in worse shape than this.”

The men walked back outside and to the rest of the group. Rooney sat in the rover and started entering coordinates. Stone stood beside him, looking over the countryside. When Rooney was through, he focused on the others.

“Where’s Constance?” He asked.

“Right here,” she said.

Everyone looked at the entrance ramp and saw her walking down and toward them. Tears were streaming from her eyes.

“Courtney’s gone,” she managed to say and fell into Leslie’s arms. “Those parasites killed her.”

Rooney looked at the ground for a moment and shook the news from his head.

“Sergeant,” he said. “We got about twenty un-friendlies heading our way. They’re about forty-five minutes out, coming at us with the sun behind them. You know what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Stone said.

He turned and started to trot to a nearby hill. Rooney looked at Rogers.

“I need for you and Fisk to take the ladies to the coordinates I put into the rover’s computer. You’ll find supplies…water, food, medicine and a few weapons…stashed in a cave about five clicks from here.”

“When did you find time to do that?” Rogers asked.

“The night we rescued…or tried to rescue…Courtney,” he said. “We weren’t just driving around for a good time.”

“I wondered what you two were doing out there,” Rogers replied. “I should have known.” “Yes, commander, you should have,” Rooney smiled.

“Why don’t we send the girls on ahead,” Rogers suggested. “Fisk and I can help you fight these guys.”

“No, sir,” Rooney declined. “Me and the sergeant already set up our plan of attack. You two would just be in the way. No offense, commander, but this is what we do. It’s what we’ve always done. Stay in the cave as long as you can. We’ll come for you.”

“And if you don’t?” Rogers asked.

“Then we’re all dead anyway,” Rooney confessed. “Last as long as you can.”

Rooney held out a hand and Rogers shook it. In moments the soldiers were alone.