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"You’re here to wake him up?"
Kyle didn’t think he had ever heard six words uttered in such a way; six little words that carried a slew of emotions on their back, spoken with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of Kyle’s neck stand to attention.
"It," Sanderson said, somewhat irritably. "Not him."
Sykes looked around at the rest of the welcome committee, and his stupefied gaze was met by four haunted stares and one nervous snort. When he finally returned his eyes to the scientist, the expression on the soldier’s face was how Kyle imagined somebody might look if they were told that they had just stepped on a landmine and they should not move.
"Are you insane? You do know what’s on this boat, right?"
Sanderson nodded impatiently and began to walk to the door that led from the landing deck into the ship itself. He waved at Kyle and Tom to follow. Kyle shot a questioning glance at his brother, and gritted his teeth at the noncommittal shrug he got in return. If Tom had picked up on the strained atmosphere, he wasn’t showing it.
Kyle fell into step behind Sanderson, listening intently.
"I know exactly what’s on the boat, Sykes," Sanderson said. "And I have to wake it up. I didn’t say I was going to free it. There is no need to be alarmed. Inventory the security protocols, please."
They entered the ship, and Sykes’ bewildered spluttering gave way to uneasy silence.
Inside, the vessel was sparse; echoing with emptiness. Functional steel corridors ran through the body of the ship like bones, and everywhere appeared to be deserted, giving the interior a funereal feel.
To Kyle's untrained eye the ship almost looked like a work-in-progress: exposed cables and ducting seemed to run everywhere, as though whoever had been building the ship had fallen at the final hurdle. It had been the same on the Conqueror, he realised abruptly, but had been less noticeable there because the ship had been full of people.
This one appeared like it had been abandoned.
Sanderson’s description of the McIntosh ship having a skeleton crew started to look to Kyle like an understatement. The realisation that the ‘welcome committee’ might in fact be the entire crew ran through his mind, and left nagging doubt in its wake.
Sykes moved alongside Sanderson, and Kyle noticed that the soldier’s posture appeared to have changed as soon as he entered the ship. On the deck Sykes had projected an air of authority, but with each step into the interior his spine appeared to bend a fraction and his shoulders drooped. Sanderson and Sykes began to speak in low, almost hushed tones and Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying, but if he had to guess from observing their body language he would have said that the soldier who had been so bullish at first was now pleading. Begging.
Kyle felt the flesh on his arms begin to crawl, and he quickened his pace a little to catch their conversation.
"The subject is shackled and caged. It has been kept in a medically-induced coma since it arrived. We have low frequency emitters surrounding him…it," Sykes said. "Linked to motion sensors. Any movement more significant than a heartbeat will trigger a sonic pulse that should knock it back into a coma."
"It sounds secure," Sanderson said.
"It doesn’t feel secure."
Kyle couldn’t see Sykes’ face as he said the words, but it sounded like the man was pouting.
Sanderson nodded. "Yes. The creature continues to surprise. The defense mechanism the mutation is employing while catatonic is a little…unexpected. And I do appreciate how difficult it makes life on this boat," he said. "Once I’m done here, I will personally make sure you are all relieved. Please, show me the medication you have administered today."
Sykes waved an arm at a young woman who walked behind him.
"Patricia can talk you through all that stuff. I’m only here to point a gun if the need arises."
While the rest of the crew was dressed in unmarked uniforms identical to the one Kyle himself wore, the young woman who Sykes gestured at to join him and Sanderson was dressed in a white lab coat like a doctor.
Kyle would have placed her in her late twenties, but pallid skin and shadows cast on her face by obvious fear made her look older.
Sanderson motioned to an office, and followed the young woman inside, pulling the door almost closed behind him. When Kyle heard them begin to murmur, but found the words too faint to make out, he pulled Tom away from the rest of the crew firmly.
"There’s something wrong here, Tom," Kyle whispered quietly. "You feel it?"
Tom shook his head and stared at Kyle’s hand until the grip on his arm was released.
"Whatever Sullivan has got on this boat, it’s important," Tom hissed. "Maybe the key to stopping all this."
"It’s too late to stop this, Tom," Kyle growled, grabbing his brother's arm once more. "It’s already happened. Wildfire has happened. What’s left to stop?"
"Sullivan," Tom responded in a surprised tone. "He’s not done."
Kyle didn’t think he had ever heard six words uttered in such a way; six little words that carried a slew of emotions on their back, spoken with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of Kyle’s neck stand to attention.
"It," Sanderson said, somewhat irritably. "Not him."
Sykes looked around at the rest of the welcome committee, and his stupefied gaze was met by four haunted stares and one nervous snort. When he finally returned his eyes to the scientist, the expression on the soldier’s face was how Kyle imagined somebody might look if they were told that they had just stepped on a landmine and they should not move.
"Are you insane? You do know what’s on this boat, right?"
Sanderson nodded impatiently and began to walk to the door that led from the landing deck into the ship itself. He waved at Kyle and Tom to follow. Kyle shot a questioning glance at his brother, and gritted his teeth at the noncommittal shrug he got in return. If Tom had picked up on the strained atmosphere, he wasn’t showing it.
Kyle fell into step behind Sanderson, listening intently.
"I know exactly what’s on the boat, Sykes," Sanderson said. "And I have to wake it up. I didn’t say I was going to free it. There is no need to be alarmed. Inventory the security protocols, please."
They entered the ship, and Sykes’ bewildered spluttering gave way to uneasy silence.
Inside, the vessel was sparse; echoing with emptiness. Functional steel corridors ran through the body of the ship like bones, and everywhere appeared to be deserted, giving the interior a funereal feel.
To Kyle's untrained eye the ship almost looked like a work-in-progress: exposed cables and ducting seemed to run everywhere, as though whoever had been building the ship had fallen at the final hurdle. It had been the same on the Conqueror, he realised abruptly, but had been less noticeable there because the ship had been full of people.
This one appeared like it had been abandoned.
Sanderson’s description of the McIntosh ship having a skeleton crew started to look to Kyle like an understatement. The realisation that the ‘welcome committee’ might in fact be the entire crew ran through his mind, and left nagging doubt in its wake.
Sykes moved alongside Sanderson, and Kyle noticed that the soldier’s posture appeared to have changed as soon as he entered the ship. On the deck Sykes had projected an air of authority, but with each step into the interior his spine appeared to bend a fraction and his shoulders drooped. Sanderson and Sykes began to speak in low, almost hushed tones and Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying, but if he had to guess from observing their body language he would have said that the soldier who had been so bullish at first was now pleading. Begging.
Kyle felt the flesh on his arms begin to crawl, and he quickened his pace a little to catch their conversation.
"The subject is shackled and caged. It has been kept in a medically-induced coma since it arrived. We have low frequency emitters surrounding him…it," Sykes said. "Linked to motion sensors. Any movement more significant than a heartbeat will trigger a sonic pulse that should knock it back into a coma."
"It sounds secure," Sanderson said.
"It doesn’t feel secure."
Kyle couldn’t see Sykes’ face as he said the words, but it sounded like the man was pouting.
Sanderson nodded. "Yes. The creature continues to surprise. The defense mechanism the mutation is employing while catatonic is a little…unexpected. And I do appreciate how difficult it makes life on this boat," he said. "Once I’m done here, I will personally make sure you are all relieved. Please, show me the medication you have administered today."
Sykes waved an arm at a young woman who walked behind him.
"Patricia can talk you through all that stuff. I’m only here to point a gun if the need arises."
While the rest of the crew was dressed in unmarked uniforms identical to the one Kyle himself wore, the young woman who Sykes gestured at to join him and Sanderson was dressed in a white lab coat like a doctor.
Kyle would have placed her in her late twenties, but pallid skin and shadows cast on her face by obvious fear made her look older.
Sanderson motioned to an office, and followed the young woman inside, pulling the door almost closed behind him. When Kyle heard them begin to murmur, but found the words too faint to make out, he pulled Tom away from the rest of the crew firmly.
"There’s something wrong here, Tom," Kyle whispered quietly. "You feel it?"
Tom shook his head and stared at Kyle’s hand until the grip on his arm was released.
"Whatever Sullivan has got on this boat, it’s important," Tom hissed. "Maybe the key to stopping all this."
"It’s too late to stop this, Tom," Kyle growled, grabbing his brother's arm once more. "It’s already happened. Wildfire has happened. What’s left to stop?"
"Sullivan," Tom responded in a surprised tone. "He’s not done."