The Edge

He was getting out of breath. What was wrong with him? He should be able to take the older man easily.

  "Don't let them hear you talking like that, Mak. They're counting on you."

  "I don't want any of them counting on me." Where'd he get moves like these? He couldn't get by Jamaal.

  "They are. Whether you like it or not."

  "They're not counting on me. They'd just as soon as shoot me. I'd be doing them a favor. They hate my guts."

  "So?" Jamaal said, contemptuously. "They hate your guts. What are you looking for, true love?"

  Mak froze. Then his gun was out and pressed against the older man's neck. Jamaal was almost as quick and his gun flashed out and was pressed against Mak's jaw.

  They stood rigid. Then, the Security Chief chuckled and lowered his weapon.

  Mak vibrated, then exploded in frustration, hurling his gun against a wall. Jamaal waited for the storm to pass.

  "Mak, I know you don't want this. I know. It's okay. But this is the way it has to be. I know, and I'm sorry. Those people in there deserve a chance. That's all. Nothing more. You've provided it for them. They need you, right now." Jamaal paused. "And this is for my son. Something I've got to do. Now go. We can do this ourselves."

  "No," he said. "No. This is my decision. I've got to do this. I'm responsible."

  They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Jamaal pressed his weapon into Mak's cold hand.

  Mak looked at the gun. It was fully charged. It could kill several hundred easily.

  Jamaal put his hand on his shoulder. "No cheating. Promise me."

  Mak glared at him. "Fine," he spat.

  He wished there was some way to do this simultaneously. There wasn't. And he wasn't going to make any stupid speeches and drag this out. They had quieted down to watch his struggle with Jamaal.

  "We think suicide is the best way to do this," one of the Hellborne said.

  "No," Mak said. "I can't let you do that. You've got to let me do this."

  The Hellborne considered for a moment then nodded.

  "Note!" Jamaal shouted towards the door where a lone Hellborne stood watching. "We died in honor of the Exeter, the finest ship in the Universe, and for the people defending her, the most courageous."

  The witness nodded. "It is so noted, sir."

  Mak stiffened against the turmoil in him. His body wanted to puke his guts onto the floor.

  "Are you ready?" he asked. Some hugged each other making him realize they were partners. Then they nodded and stood at attention. He couldn't force any more words through his raw throat.

  The pod pilots suddenly strode forward. "Squads on deck, sir."

  They were all so calm. Sha was first in line. She still looked out of breath from dashing up to the Express. She must have run up here after the comms went off line. Anger flashed through him, hot like lightning. Why hadn't she waited with the rest of Blue Box? Why was she here? Then his fury dissipated. She wouldn't have waited down with Blue Box if she thought she could help out on the Bridge. Being a spectator was not in her nature.

  He wondered why he had never noticed her eyes. Blue, deeply blue and tranquil. His face, he kept a mask of stone. Even as he brought the gun up swiftly, time slowed. He absorbed how she had straightened and cleaned her flight suit as best she could, how her hair had been arranged to frame her young face, a face that matched her body and soul, strong and beautiful with youth, and, unbidden, a memory arose of her predicting how she was going to become a squad leader one day then join pilot training as an instructor and then become? Her future, it unfolded, details sharp as razors, before him.

  He fired underneath her jaw, pointing the gun straight up so that it blew the top of her head off. Quickly, he moved down the row, aiming and firing. The small plasma charges flung their bodies back against the wall.

  The Soldiers were next, then the crew, then the Hellborne, then the unconscious injured. Jamaal was last.

  He wore a gentle smile on his face. "Good luck, Mak." he said simply, holding out his hand.

  Mak shook it firmly. "Say hi to your son for me."

  "Will do." And with that, Mak killed him.

  Two minutes. That's all it had taken he had moved so quickly. Yet, he knew these two minutes were now his entire memory. Every other memory which had constituted his life experience had become marginal, trivial things meaning something to him once, but now just nebulous reminders of who he had once been. The weapon was so hot, it burned the skin of his thigh when he shoved it into his pocket. His pants leg smoked. The pain did not reach his frozen inner self.

  He turned his back on the corpses and stood facing the lone witness. Then he walked past him, into the Express, back to the command console. He met any eye wanting to meet his.

  Equipment packed the Express. People crammed under the floor, stuffed themselves into the ceiling. Hardware squeezed into the remaining nooks and crannies. In the little time they had, they'd done all they could. They had to be ready.

  Time had runout.

  To overcome the lack of functioning comms, a system of runners had been created from the Express to the launch bays. It was a simple system used in the lower levels where the electronic comms were unreliable and not secure. It would work with adults instead of the five or six year olds the gangs usually used. This was the biggest network he'd ever seen. His old gang would have been proud.

  He flicked his flashlight on and off twice at an officer standing at the door. She in turn looked down the hallway and flashed. Now was the hard part. Waiting. He didn't know how many people were involved in the sneaker net they'd set up. At some point they'd have to split into two lines: One going to Blue Box and the other to Silver Shark. The confirmation would wind back the same way with the Human nodes as they had laughingly called themselves ran for their lives back to the Bridge.

  He glanced at where Thurber was. She stared back, nervously tugging at her hair. The woman was going to go bald if she wasn't careful. Wait. Hurry up and wait. Looking at his uniform in the darkness, he couldn't see the blood smears. His body was beyond fatigue now, he was just numb.

  There was sudden activity at the door. The messages were through. A group ran through the hatch and squeezed themselves in. Then a few more.

  Suddenly, he heard weapons fire. He shoved his way to the door to look out. Soldiers and crewmen were already erecting their barricades. Whenever a group of Human nodes ran up, they pulled them over quickly.

  "Zombies," one of the nodes gasped out. "They're coming."

  "How many?" one of the Soldiers barked out.

  "I don't know, l don't know." And the man was swept away.

  "Goddammit, how many?" the Soldier grabbed the next man flying over the barricade.

  "I dunno. Lots, I dunno." He scrambled away.

  The Soldier hung onto the next guy over the barricade. "How many, goddammit?"

  "Too many!" the man screamed back. "Too goddamned many!"

  The Soldier was a veteran. An older man with the scars of many battles. A sergeant who'd seen it all and expected more. He shrugged at Mak then pulled a flask from his pocket, unstoppered it and offered it to Mak.

  "Jack Daniels, son, fine Tennessee whiskey."

  Mak took a small sip. It was fiery and good. "Thanks."

  "No problem." The sergeant drank from the flask, then passed it around.

  "How many more people do we have out there," Mak finally asked in the silence.

  "Thirty-one," a crewman answered. "They're the furthest away."

  "We could shut the door," someone said.

  They looked at Mak. They expected him to give the command. Fine. He would. But when he was good and ready and not before.

  "We'll wait."

  "Heat 'em up, boys and girls," the sergeant yelled. "We're gonna be cooking real soon."

  The firing was getting closer. They could hear some large explosions. The area leading to the Bridge was wide, long, and spacious. More of a cargo bay than a corridor like the other parts of the X. This
space was necessary for moving large pieces of equipment into and out of the Bridge. Other smaller storage bays were attached. That's where the bodies of the volunteers were. Mak breathed slowly willing the remaining survivors to appear.

  Someone was coming.

  "There they are!" somebody yelled with relief.

  Then it was obvious. They were zombies striding towards them.

  "Shit! They've got battle bots."

  "Do we fire, sir?"

  "Sir, do we secure the hatch?"

  "Wait," he said. He should order the hatch closed. The zombies had cut off the remaining crewmen. Waiting was useless now.

  There was another noise. A dull booming, The battle bots clumped into view, pushing aside the people wildly. Whoever was operating them, appeared drunk. The first bot fired and hit nothing but ceiling.

  "Wait!" Mak ordered sharply.

  Suddenly, there was a crash and explosion on one side of the wall defining the area. The zombies stumbled but kept coming. The wall suddenly bulged, perversely, like it was suddenly pregnant. Something ruptured the metal and burst out. A pod. A Blue Box pod. It careened into the open area, and crazily kept going to smash into the opposite wall. It was the most bizarre thing he'd ever seen. The zombies started firing at it. The smaller arms did virtually no damage but they had much bigger weapons which damaged the pod's hull. The trip here had taken its toll on the pod as well. The pod though swept the zombies with withering fire, mowing them down. But they kept coming. Suddenly, through the wall the pod had blasted through, people started to scramble out and run towards the Bridge.

  "Are they??" asked the Soldiers.

  He grabbed the weapon of the