The Final Battle

  Chapter 39: Two to Go

  Sheen limped down the next hallway. He came up to a flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the ship. He tiredly glanced from the stairs to his injured leg. "Shit," he muttered while pick up his right leg and placing it on the first step.

  Sheen knew that at least two of the Yolkians he had left downstairs were still alive. But he didn't have the time or energy to head back down and methodically rip each of their brains out. They're no threat in that puddle state. Besides, I could probably squeeze a little information out of them.

  He suddenly froze as he reached the halfway point of the stairs. He clutched his throat and began to cough violently. He tried to quiet himself, not wanting to alert the rest of the Yolkians, but he couldn't help it. He collapsed onto the stairs and coughed so hard that he threw up. He noticed in horror that a good portion of his vomit was made up of blood. He looked down at the wound in his side. Maybe it hadn't been as superficial as he had thought.

  The world seemed to darken as he finally reached the top of the stairs. He worried that he might be passing out, but he realized that the second level of the ship was using dark purple lights. He leaned against the wall of the stairwell and took a few deep breaths. He wanted to slide down to the floor and take a nap, but he knew that if he closed his eyes now, he wouldn't be opening them again. Groaning in pain all the while, he pushed off of the wall and continued limping down the hallway.

  He wasn't as careful or quiet as he had been downstairs. He was hungry, dehydrated, bloody, limping, and nearly in shock. If any Yolkian wanted a piece of him, he'd freaking blow it out of the sky. He tossed the pistol onto the ground and took the shotgun off of his shoulder. He untied the pistols attached to it and put them in his waistband. "Time for a little payback," he muttered while pumping the shotgun. He leveled it in front of him and continued limping down the hall.

  He looked around nervously while navigating the maze that was the ship's navigational floor. He could hear machines clacking and beeping from every direction. He didn't like being surrounded by sound.

  It was hard to stay focused as he tried to figure out where he was in the ship and where he was heading. The only thing that kept him from going insane or giving up was that he wouldn't be fighting any more soldiers. Unbelievable. The crew is scared shitless, yet those things are the toughest and smartest soldiers I've ever seen. Pretty big difference.

  Sheen noted that he would have to find out more about the Yolkian society. He hated them all and wanted to blow every one of those eggs out of the sky, but he couldn't help but be amazed by the complexity of their actions.

  Sheen paused as he heard some voices. He was glad to hear that they were speaking English instead of that weird chirping language that the first crewman had used before Sheen had pulled its brain out.

  He slowly edged his way down the hallway he was in and braced himself against the corner. He quickly took a look at what lay ahead and saw a door. There was some sort of a label on the entrance, but it was written in what looked like scribbles. But he could definitely hear Yolkians talking inside.

  "Are they ok?" one of the aliens asked.

  "They are class 3 soldiers. Of course they are ok. They just need time," another Yolkian answered.

  "I am worried about Grabor. Why did he go with them? He is no soldier," a third voice mentioned his concerns.

  There was a short, shrill squeak. "True, but he thinks himself as one," a fourth voice answered. Everyone in the room laughed. Sheen clutched his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Their laughter was worse than nails being scratched on a chalkboard.

  As soon as they stopped squeaking, Sheen opened his eyes and stared straight at the door. At least four voices. Four Yolkians are in there. Sheen banged his head lightly against the wall and tried to think. I'm not in the mood to go in there guns blazing. Should I wait for them to come out?

  The latter was the safest plan. Wait for them to leave the room, and then ambush them. He could easily pick two off with his shotgun before the others could even react. But his gut told him that this was the wrong idea. He looked down at the wounds in his stomach and leg. He wasn't feeling too hot. If he waited, he might be dead before they came out. It was a slim chance, but there might be medical supplies that he could use in there.

  Sheen thought it over and finally nodded. He turned the door's knob and opened it slightly. He then kicked it open as hard as he could with his good leg.

  Everyone in the room turned to see what had kicked the door. "Howdy," Sheen said with an insane smile pulling his shotgun's trigger. One of the crew was instantly thrown back against a wall. Sheen was affected by the recoil as well. He stumbled backwards and would have fallen if not for the wall he graciously slammed into. The gun was stronger than he had thought.

  The Yolkians all looked towards each other as Sheen recovered from the recoil and leveled his gun at another Yolkian. They communicated with quick nods and slight gestures. Sheen paused a moment to study them. It was as if they communicated telepathically. Leave the research and observation to Jimmy, he thought while pulling his trigger.

  But it was too late. The split second of hesitation had been long enough for the crewmen to relay their communications and form a plan. They split up into three different directions and hovered as fast as they could down three different hallways.

  "Damn hen nuts," Sheen muttered while shifting his gaze from one hallway to the other. He finally decided on the one to his right and ran down it as fast as he could.

  A series of clacks and high pitched squeals came from the ship's intercom systems. Sheen cursed the bastards under his breath. They are smart. They knew that he spoke English, and could therefore decipher their plans. They were strategizing with each other in their alien tongues.

  Sheen was about to take a right when the ship suddenly lifted up off of the ground. He was slammed into the wall behind him. His eyes wobbled around in his sockets for a few moments as the ship danced in front of him.

  The only thing that woke him up from his trance was a spear slamming into the wall a foot to the right of his head. "Curses," one of the Yolkians shouted before retreating behind a door.

  Sheen ran straight ahead after the creature. He swung the door open and smiled. The Yolkian had run into a dead end. There was no way out of the room. Sheen had gotten lucky yet again. He leveled his shotgun at the alien several meters in front of him and smiled. "Adios, amigo," he said while pumping his gun and pulling the trigger. The Yolkian's shell exploded into a pile of glass and slime.

  Five to go, he reminded himself while heading out of the room. The ship lurched again, but this time he grabbed onto the doorframe and managed to steady himself. He shook off the light dizziness that quickly passed over him and continued on his way.

  Sheen backtracked his way to the central room he had entered a moment before. He looked at the other two hallways that the Yolkians had run down. He scanned each one before setting off on the one to his left.

  Sheen encountered three Yolkians immediately after he rounded the first corner. They stood side by side brandishing pistol-like weapons in their hands. The two opposing species stared at each other for a moment before the Yolkians opened fire. Sheen retreated and ducked behind a corner.

  Sheen waited a moment and then took another look. He noticed that the Yolkian in the center had a design of a ship imprinted on his armor. "Must be a pilot," he mused.

  Sheen shook his thoughts aside and pulled a pistol out of his waistband, dropping the shotgun to the floor. He made sure a round was in the chamber by pulling the slide back. He peeked around the corner long enough to get two shots out before another barrage of plasma came his way.

  This time Sheen followed the plasma with his eyes as it flew by him. It slammed into the row of computers and machines at the other end of the room. They hit the metal and instantly bubbled, eating away the machines. He gulped. A single hit of that stuff could take off a limb or burn his stomach away.

  He wait
ed a few moments and then fired five more shots, pulling his head back not a second too soon. The balls of plasma flew past his head close enough to set his hair on fire. He immediately put it out by slapping his head, but it was a terrifying experience.

  Sheen thought a moment. He wasn't sure if he had hit any Yolkians yet. He wasn't risking peeking his head out to look. He barely had enough time to fire random shots before getting his head burnt off. He shot a bullet into the wall, and a chip of the material fell off. He threw it down the hallway, and two balls of plasma flew back at him. Two of them left.

  He stuck only his arm out and fired three more shots. Two more volleys of plasma flew at him.

  Sheen ejected the nearly empty magazine and crisply locked another one into place. He held the gun up by his face before jumping sideways. He fired the gun as fast as he could while flying through the air, getting off three shots that made their way down the hallway. One hit a Yolkian's glass visor, sending it spinning around and making it lose its balance.

  Sheen landed hard into the wall. His right arm screamed pain, but he had no choice but to ignore it. He pulled another gun out of his waistband and readied himself. He then ran back to his previous hiding spot, firing eight bullets. They finally succeeded in taking down his targets.

  Sheen waited for the volley of return fire to whiz by him as he braced himself against the wall. None came. He counted to twenty, but there was just silence. Sheen put the pistols back in his waistband and picked up his fallen shotgun. He pumped it and carefully stepped out into the open.

  There was still no return fire. The three Yolkians lay on the ground. Two were outside their shells, lying in puddles. The third was still in its shell, but motionless. Sheen walked a little closer to it and fired his shotgun at it. The control panel sizzled and spewed out smoke. Satisfied, he set off down the hallway. He still had two pilots to take care of.