Blood Thirsty (Tri System's Edge Series Book 2) Read online

  “What’s going on?” General Quinn said, as he slipped through the doors.

  The captain made sure the doors closed shut, then he turned and faced the general. “I’m . . . I’m not exactly sure,” he stuttered.

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  “Well, one of the doctors in the lab called the bridge several hours ago. His head was bleeding, and he was frantic, making no sense. I sent a unit to go investigate, but they never reported in, and the comms all went down a short time later.”

  The general folded his arms. “And so, you locked yourself in here, without letting anyone else know?”

  The captain shook his head and broke eye contact. “A few soldiers came by not long ago, and I instructed them to go to your quarters.”

  “Why didn’t you just send someone to wake me right away?”

  Fidgeting uncomfortably, the captain said, “I would have, sir, but things were chaotic with the comms down. And . . .”

  “And?”

  “Well, sir, no one wanted to leave the bridge.”

  Irritated by the reply, the general scowled at the captain, but he also understood that the officers on the bridge were not combat soldiers. “What about the men you sent to my room? Didn’t they come back here?”

  The captain looked puzzled. “They should’ve come back with you, sir.”

  “Well, do you see them with me now? I don’t,” Quinn said with a hint of sarcasm. “In fact, the halls were completely empty when I opened my door.”

  The captain remained silent and looked down at the floor.

  Knowing that something had gone wrong with his experiment, the general began to get angry. He turned and slammed his fist against the nearest wall. “We may have a big problem.”

  “I don’t understand,” the captain replied. “I thought we were just transporting some prisoners.”

  The general turned and stared at the captain. “Well, now we’re transporting some monsters,” he muttered, as he walked toward the control deck. “We need to find somewhere to land the ship,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” replied the captain. “Flight controls are still working normally. Did you have a destination in mind?”

  “How far are we from Vespe-Keda?”

  The captain’s eyes widened. “Sir?”

  “How far?”

  “Uh, well . . .” The captain pulled up a screen and began entering data.

  “Well?”

  “One moment, sir.” A few seconds later the captain turned back toward the general. “I suggest that it would be a bad idea for us to go near Directive territory, and especially unwise to attempt landing on the capital planet . . .”

  “How far?” the general asked again, his patience wearing thin.

  “At full engine speed, it will take us approximately three hundred and five hours, sir.”

  The general knew enough about the Vie to know that was too long. “What’s the closest inhabited planet?”

  Appearing somewhat relieved, the captain entered some more data on the screen. “It looks like Gani Prime, sir.”

  “How long?”

  “We can be there in less than thirty-nine hours, sir.”

  “Can you make it twenty?”

  “Um . . .” The captain hesitated and stared at his control screen. “If we push the engines, we might be able to shave off a few hours, but it could permanently damage the ship.”

  “Do it,” the general ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  General Quinn turned and headed toward the back of the bridge, stopping in front of a small cabinet built into the wall. After typing in a key code on the adjacent pad, the cabinet door slid open, revealing a wall with an array of firearms. He reached for one of the larger automatic rifles, pulled it from the rack, and flung the weapon over his shoulder. He then opened one of the ammo drawers beneath the weapons cache and retrieved a half-dozen clips for the rifle, attaching them to his belt.

  “Uh, Sir? What exactly are you doing?” the Captain asked.

  “I’m leaving this open for you.” He paused and stared at the remaining weapons mounted inside the cabinet. “Just in case you need them,” he added.

  There was a long silence on the bridge, and then the captain finally spoke. “You’re . . . not staying here, on the bridge with us?”

  The general didn’t respond.

  “Isn’t it dangerous out there?” the captain added, as if trying to convince the general to stay.

  “You’ll be fine, Captain. Just keep the blast door shut until I get back,” the general ordered. With that, he turned and headed toward the door, reached for the control pad, and typed in the key code.

  The door slid wide open to reveal a large, black creature standing at the entrance. Before Quinn could react, it pounced on him, pinning him to the floor and slicing through his shoulder with one of its claws. Its red eyes stared down at him, then its mouth opened wide to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  Suddenly, the sound of his pistol echoed through the room, and a black liquid dripped from the side of the creature’s head. It quivered for a moment, then collapsed on top of the general.

  General Quinn struggled to push the creature off. “Some help, please,” he called out. But no one came to his aid, leaving him alone with the task of getting out from under the lifeless body.

  Once he’d pushed it far enough to one side, he slid the rest of the way out from under it, and sluggishly climbed to his feet. Right away he turned his attention to his shoulder, inspecting the wound he’d received. The claw, he figured, had gone into his flesh a few inches, leaving a small open hole that was now bleeding.

  He glanced into the hallway to find it clear of any further intruders. “Shut the doors,” he ordered, as he left the bridge and walked toward his own quarters.

  By the time he reached his door, the wound stung so bad that he was starting to feel dizzy and lose focus. He glanced down the hallway as he opened the door, then he hurried inside, making sure to shut it behind him. He headed straight toward his safe room and punched in the code. The door opened, and he entered the small space, where he began fumbling through drawers in search of a syringe. After finding one, he reached in the cabinet for the vial of blood, pulling it out and setting it next to the syringe.

  He stared at the items for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. To his knowledge, his science team had not yet done any significant testing with Kalla’s blood. He’d only given them two small vials, and the first had been tested on healthy cells with no noticeable change. The second vial was to be tested with the Vie blood, but even if Jameson’s team had done any testing, it was unlikely that the general would be getting their results now. So he had no idea how Kalla’s blood might affect him, or if it would do anything at all.

  He weighed every possible outcome he could think of, but knew this was likely the end. He was infected, just like Bennett had been back on Paradise. That meant he had two simple choices: submit to the infection and become a Vie, or inject himself with Kalla’s blood and hope for a better result.

  Without further hesitation, he opened the vial and filled the syringe, capturing every last drop of the blood. Leaning against a wall, he slid down and sat on the floor, then located a vein on his neck with his fingers. Tilting his head to one side, he moved the syringe into place and injected the entire dose of Kalla’s blood into his body.

  He believed the reaction would happen quickly, but wasn’t completely sure what to expect, so he sat and waited for several minutes. He tried to pay attention to his breathing and heart rate, thinking they might indicate that changes were taking place, but the pain in his shoulder made it difficult to focus on much else.

  He finally decided to move somewhere more comfortable. He struggled to his feet and began walking toward his couch, when a sudden dizzy spell hit him, forcing him back to the floor. As the room continued to spin, he noticed a tightening in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. “This is it,” he muttered, ju
st before blacking out.

  ~

  “Reduce engine speed,” ordered the captain. The ship had reached a safe distance from Gani Prime, and he thought it best to stay off their radar until he knew what the next move was. “Don’t enter orbit until the general gets back.”

  “Yes, Captain,” replied the pilot from his station.

  Walking toward the entrance to the bridge, the captain wondered when, or even if, the general would return. It wasn’t like him to hurry a deadline and then miss it himself.

  As the captain approached the blast doors, the dead creature still lay in the middle of the floor, and the captain paused and stared at it in disgust. He assumed there were more out there and wondered if the general’s absence meant there’d been an altercation with another one. He began to consider the possibility that the general was dead but then reminded himself that he’d watched the general kill the creature lying dead on the floor. The captain assured himself that General Quinn was a hardened soldier who wouldn’t go down very easily.

  Staring at the black monster, the captain knew that if he’d been the one to open that door, he’d probably be dead now. The fact that General Quinn had been successful in killing the creature gave him some semblance of hope, but he also knew that he still needed to plan for the worst. If the general had been killed, it would be up to him to figure a way out of this mess. That meant going anywhere near Gani Prime was not on his priority list, since he had no idea what the general was thinking when he gave the order.

  “Anyone here have actual combat experience?” he finally asked as he turned to face the crew.

  No hands went up.

  “Well, that settles it, then. We’re heading back to base.”

  “Sir, what about the general’s orders?” the pilot asked.

  “The general isn’t here, and this ship has been compromised. Are you volunteering to go find General Quinn yourself?” The captain’s tone was firm, making it clear to everyone on the bridge that he was in charge.

  “Uh, no, sir,” the pilot replied.

  “Then chart a course to Svati Prime and get us there as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the pilot, who immediately went to work changing the ship’s course.

  The captain walked toward his chair on the bridge and sat down. He had only been under the general’s command for a few years, but it was long enough for him to know that there would be consequences for his decision to go against the general’s orders and change course. For now, though, the captain pushed those thoughts from his mind, knowing the choice had to be made. It was in the best interests of the entire crew on the ship, he believed, to head back to base.

  He also believed the general was most likely dead by now.

  C

  HAPTER 11

  Murphy began to regain consciousness but struggled to open his eyes. He was completely exhausted, and though something inside urged him to wake up, his body was sending a loud and clear message that he needed more rest. But he was a fighter, and his mind told him he needed to figure out where he was, what had happened to him, and whether he was safe.

  He tried to remember what had happened but could recall very little. He’d made it to his ship, he’d been followed, and the ship had been shot down. The rest was a blank. Where he was now, or how he’d ended up here, were both complete mysteries.

  He attempted again to open his eyes, and after some struggle, he finally succeeded. Keeping his head still, he looked around the dimly lit room. Nothing looked familiar, and he appeared to be alone.

  He tried to turn his head to one side, but a sharp pain in his neck prevented further movement. “Iss anyone thir? Whir am I?” he slurred. He waited several minutes for an answer, but none came.

  Fighting the pain, he managed to move his head enough to get a slightly better view of his surroundings. Except for the bed where he lay, the room was mostly bare, and he was indeed alone. Across the room he could see a cabinet on the wall, and next to that there was a door with a small window near the top.

  Murphy took several deep breaths, and then he attempted to sit up, but he didn’t get far before another sharp, throbbing pain—this one in his ribs—sent him back down again. Immediately he noticed that it now hurt to breathe. “Ahhh!” he yelled, trying to stretch his arms and back in hopes of easing the pain, but everything he did only seemed to make it worse. And on top of the sharp pain in his neck and ribs, he began to feel nauseated. Before he knew what was happening, his body convulsed and he vomited, then he blacked out.

  When he finally woke again, he didn’t feel nearly as exhausted as before, and he was able to open his eyes. It was then that he noticed a man sitting at his bedside.

  “Welcome back,” the man said.

  Afraid to move a muscle, he remained still and stared up at the mildly blurry shape. “Wheeerrre aaammm I . . .” He struggled to speak, but felt no pain in his ribs or neck, which meant, he reasoned, that he was probably drugged.

  “Yer safe,” came the reply. “Jus’ rest up. We’ll chitchat more afer them drugs wear off ya.”

  “Wheeerrre . . .?” he attempted to ask again.

  “Esaria. Don’t worry, yer safe here. Ya jus’ rest up.”

  Not in a position to argue, Murphy closed his eyes again and tried to relax. There was no point in fighting the grogginess he felt, but his mind was still coherent enough to remember the general, and his breathing began to speed up for a moment.

  “Yer safe,” the voice reassured him. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Murphy’s breathing gradually slowed, and when he’d calmed down, the hand released its gentle grip.

  “Name’s Dal,” the man said.

  “Muurrrph . . .,” he struggled to say.

  “Good ta meet ya. Yer lucky I found ya when I did, er ya wouldn’t be breathin’ right now. Air down here ain’t good fer off-werlders.”

  Murphy tried to nod as a show of thanks, but he couldn’t tell if his head was moving.

  “I’ll go get the doc, let him know yer awake.”

  Again, he tried to nod, and again he wasn’t sure if he’d accomplished it. Then he watched Dal leave the room.

  The lights were on now so he could see much easier than before. The room he was in looked oddly like quarters on a large battleship. It wasn’t very big or fancy. The smooth metal walls were bare, and recessed lights in the ceiling provided adequate light. The only furniture was the bed he lay in and the chair Dal had been sitting in when he woke.

  With nothing to hold his attention, Murphy closed his eyes again, and began to doze off. He wasn’t completely out yet when he thought he heard the door whoosh open, but it wasn’t until a bright light shone in one eye that he finally woke up again. The light was intense, and his natural reaction was to shut his eye, but when he tried, he realized a hand was holding it open. His head attempted to jerk away, but the hand remained firm, pressing his skull firmly against the bed.

  “It’s alright, son,” a deep voice said. “Don’t fight me, just need to be sure ya don’t have a concussion.”

  The blinding light suddenly moved just above his eye, and Murphy did his best to keep still while the stranger finished the examination. “You a doctor?” he managed to say, without much of a slur.

  “Sure am,” the man replied, as he stood and turned the lights in the room back on.

  Murphy’s eyes strained to adjust to the bright light, and he could see a halo everywhere he looked. “Guess I owe you a thanks,” he said to the older looking man.

  The man walked to the foot of the bed and sat on the edge. “Do you remember what happened to you, son?” he asked.

  Murphy just stared for a moment before responding. Squinting his eyes allowed him to get a better look, and he could see the man was older. His brown hair was overrun by strands of gray. His face was deeply tanned and full of wrinkles, but Murphy saw a kindness in his eyes that set him at ease. He believed this was a man he could trust.

  “Well?” the old man ask
ed again.

  “Sorry,” Murphy finally said. “All I know is that my ship had some problems, and I remember heading toward a bunch of trees. That’s pretty much it, though. Went black after that, and I woke up here.”

  The old man nodded.

  “Speaking of here, where am I, and how did I get here?”

  “Well, son, you owe that luck to my nephew Dal.” he replied. “He happened to be nearby and saw your ship go down. Thought you might be dead at first, you were breathing so shallow. He managed to get you to this ship though, and once he got you inside, breathing clean air again, we were able to revive you. Luck on top of luck is about all I can say.”

  “And this place, you said it’s a ship?”

  “Yeah, just a big spaceship that got left behind recently. Still in good shape, so we’ve put it to use.”

  The words raced through Murphy’s mind. Spaceship. Left behind. Then he remembered that he’d entered Esaria’s atmosphere just before getting shot down. He also knew that General Quinn had recently abandoned a mining facility here, which meant this ship was likely one that belonged to the general.

  In a sudden panic, he strained his body trying to sit up, but the old man pushed him back down in the bed and held him there.

  “Whoa, son, you ain’t going anywhere in your current condition. You still need rest.”

  “No, I need to get out of here. It’s too dangerous for me to be on this ship . . . on this planet.”

  “Son, you almost died. The only place you’re going right now is back to sleep. I reckon you’ve got at least a few good weeks of healin’ to do before I’ll be lettin’ you go anywhere.”

  A bit agitated, Murphy frowned at the old man. “With all due respect, sir, I appreciate your helping me and all, but if this ship belongs to General Quinn, which I’m thinking it does, it would be best for the both of us if I leave as soon as possible.”

  The old man sat back, folded his arms, and appeared to be in deep thought for a moment. “General Quinn?” he finally asked. “And why would you be worried about him?”