Kraken Mare (20 page)

He wouldn’t stay down for long, if Jou and Gentry were any indication. I needed to get clear and regroup. I took a very quick assessment of my gear. The pistols were, for all intents and purposes, gone, thrown who knew where. Seconds mattered, and I didn’t have time to crawling around looking for them. My pack was close though, and—Thank you God—the rifle was on my way out. I grabbed the pack and bolted for the door, scooping the carbine up on the run.

“Ohhh, Johhhhhnnny…” Baptiste’s moan reminded me of the disappointed tone my mom gave me, “That was not a very nice thing to do.”

He spasmed as the two rounds hit him high in the chest, the elation I felt only momentary as the wounds began closing almost immediately. I turned and ran towards the stairs, pulling the pin on a flashbang and tossing it over my shoulder as a parting gift.

I needed to play to my strengths, not his. A straight up fight was out, I couldn’t take the chance on his mind mojo screwing with me again. Whatever I had done in retaliation…well, I didn’t know how I’d done it, much less how to do it again.

I took the stairs down two and three at a time, trying to get as much distance between Baptiste and myself.

“Johnny…” Baptiste’s voice floated down the stairwell followed by his laugh, the chilling sound fading into echoes in my head. “Run, Johnny, like the scared little boy you are.”

Ignoring him as best I could, I kept running, my abused ribs starting to complain. Not to be outdone, everything else decided to chime in as well. I ground my teeth together and kept going. Control might not be ideal as an ambush location, but it did give me a few more options. A few more flights and I’d be there.

“What do think you can accomplish, Johnny? You know you can’t save yourself.” Baptiste’s voice came directly into my head, the scrape of dead tree branches on a window. “You’ve failed everyone, Johnny, it’s what you’re good at.” He fell silent, the sound of my steps and pained gasps filling the void. “I sometimes wonder what that’s like. The feeling that no matter what, everything you do is futile. Tell me, Johnny, do get so used to it, that you just become numb? Or is it more comforting? Do you embrace it?” Another pause. “Do you lie awake at night, going over every poor life decision you’ve made, looking for the one place that you can say ‘Aha! That’s where I really fucked up!’ or is it more of a continuous loop of abject failure after abject failure? Serious question, really. I’ve never failed consistently, so I’m genuinely curious.”

I didn’t know if my thoughts would pinpoint my location, so I kept a tight rein on them. It was tempting to engage, spit back insults and bravado, but I knew that would only give him more to work with. Didn’t mean his taunts weren’t effective or distracting, though. It took everything I had to keep focused.

But dear lord, he knew exactly where to hit me hardest. My sense of duty. My feelings of inadequacy. My survivor’s guilt. Each snarky comment felt like a jab to the gut. I needed a distraction.

It occurred to me that he could read my mind, or at least pick bits here and there if they were fairly fresh. It explained why he could pull up April, Gerry, and especially Concy’s images and make them seem so damn life like. Hm. Vivid scenes…distracting… A slow grin spread across my mug.

Oh, motherfucker, just wait to see what I have in mind.

In space, even the short trips take days to weeks. What a company of Marines can find on the net with that much time on their hands and no one to kill? It sticks with you. Especially the really disturbing stuff.

I started with the pictures someone had found involving two dudes, a basket of exotic fruit, and a gallon of motor oil. After that, I moved on to the video of the German ladies and the model train set. The fully functional model train set. Some things just can’t be unseen.

You know that feeling you get when someone is staring at you, but you can’t see them? That’s what Baptiste’s reaction felt like, but instead of the hair on my neck standing up, a subtle wave of queasiness worked its way through my gut. I grinned and sent another image his way.

“Jesus, John. And I thought I had issues.”

The mental slideshow wasn’t just to tweak his tail, it had another purpose. I could let my mind focus on the images while letting my hands work without thought. I wrapped the paracord twice around one flashbang, tying the spoon loosely to the body, repeating the process with the other end of the cord. A little duct tape on the door jamb in a few places, and I had what I hoped was a decent booby trap. I pulled the pins and moved to the hallway across the room.

With any luck, Baptiste would hit the tripwire, the paracord would release, and both grenades would go off right at eye level. Bonus points if they did enough damage to put him down. I’d settle for disorientation and terrible disfigurement, though.

The hard part would be not thinking about the trap or what I hoped to do when he showed. I thought hard about one of the tamer things I’d seen, a XXX recreation of Snow White, from a German film company. I mean, really, where the hell do you find not just one, but seven midget pornstars? An ad in
Der Spiegel
?

I checked the magazine on the carbine, making sure the armor piercing rounds were in place. I didn’t want to take the chance he’d hardened up after the last go round. I drew a bead on the doorway and waited, ears straining for any sound that would give him away. Fortunately, the onslaught of images I had in my head seemed to have shut him up for a while, if not shut him out.

The scuff of a shoe on the hallway floor brought my heartrate up. I took several slow, deep breaths to get it back under control, fighting the adrenaline shot that rushed through my veins. Baptiste’s voice floated towards me, almost more terrifying in my ears than it had been in my head.

“Johnny, I know you are a stubborn bastard, but this is getting…well, silly is a good word. You can’t beat me in a fight. What is that saying the snipers are all so fond of?” More footsteps, closer this time. He still wasn’t visible, but I figured he was about five to ten meters from the door. “Oh, now I remember. ‘Go ahead and run, you’ll just die tired.’ Aren’t you tired, Johnny? You’ve been very busy today.”

A wave of exhaustion rolled over me, accompanied by blurriness at the corner of my sight. It was difficult to determine if it was Baptiste playing Jedi mind tricks again, actual fatigue and damage, or some horrible combination of both. I shook my head, ramping up the porno images. As I recalled, in exquisite detail, the American-made live action tentacle Hentai one of the Corpsmen had shown us, my vision cleared. The bone deep physical weariness stayed, but that was something I’d fought through my whole career. It was surmountable, and oddly comforting. A familiar obstacle that I’d overcome before, as opposed to all the weird new shit I’d been dealing with the last few weeks.

“Come on, Johnny, you’re just delaying the inevitable here. The old cliché of the lone badass, surviving against all odds is just that—a cliché.” A shadow, cast from one of the flickering emergency lights, stretched into view. Even taking into consideration the distortion of the light, what was coming was only vaguely human shaped. His voice had changed, as well, becoming more sibilant, as though he were trying to speak through a mouthful of teeth. I suppressed a shudder as he continued, “I get it though, really I do. You jarheads love to see yourselves as the ultimate warriors, the one flare of light blazing defiantly into the overwhelming tide of darkness. It’s admirable. Stupid, but admirable.” He stepped into my line of sight.

“Semper Fi, Motherfucker.” I pulled the trigger.

Bullets tore through his chest, a three round burst that made him stagger slightly. He recovered quickly, snarling as he sprinted forward, hands elongating into talons as he moved. I put another burst into him to keep him focused on me, and not the path in front of him. I threw my arm over my eyes as he hit the tripwire.

The concussion caused me to lose my balance briefly, precious seconds wasted as I stumbled and caught myself. I regained my balance, opening my eyes to get a fix on Baptiste.

While not the best-case scenario, the grenades had done some damage. Baptiste clawed at his face, tearing strips of flaming skin from his skull as he lurched towards my position. I took advantage of his disorientation, firing as quickly as possible, putting round after round into his torso as he closed. The sound of a thousand nails scratching across blackboards erupted from his throat, giving voice to his pain and frustration.

Damn, but even as damaged as he was, Baptiste could still move.

“For Christ’s sake,” I couldn’t keep the exasperation from my voice, “Would you just die already?” I pulled the trigger frantically as his enraged form got within arm’s reach.

Nothing. Magazine empty.

Baptiste’s laugh of defiance filled the room as his claws slid around my throat.

“It’s time to end this, Johnny,” he said, grip tightening. The now familiar black veil appeared at the edge my vision. “I have grown tired of your games. You have two options: tell me the codes, and I’ll make this quick. Or you can try to continue to play the hero and I’ll drag them out of you inch by agonizingly slow inch.” He moved his other hand to my ribs, applying gentle pressure to the tender spot, grinning as I winced involuntarily. “Ever peeled an onion, Johnny?”

It took everything I had to keep the scream inside as his talon slid through my shirt and into the top layer of skin, the sharp claw paring away a strip of flesh and cloth. He held the piece of bloody meat in front of my eyes before slowly bringing it to his mouth.

“Mmm…tastes like pork rinds.” As he chewed, the seared portion of his face began to heal, charred and blackened pieces sloughing away to reveal raw pink tissue. “A quick history lesson for you, Johnny. Did you know that flaying has long been a tradition in human culture? Extremely versatile, and useful.” Another sharp pain, followed by a tearing sensation. “Oh my, I seemed to have been clumsy with that one.” Another piece of me went between his jaws. “As a warning, there’s nothing like leaving the face of a thief or a political enemy on the door to deter others. As a method of torture? I’d say it’s in the top three.” Another slice, another strip of my skin dangling in front of my face.

“Did you want a nibble? No? More for me, then.” Around his latest morsel, Baptiste kept talking. “The average human could stay alive for anything from hours to days while being flayed. It all depends on shock and blood loss, really.” His face grew thoughtful. “I say you would probably make it at least twenty-four hours.”

Through the white fire of pain in my side, I could feel Baptiste trying to force his way in again. I tried fighting back, grinding my teeth while focusing on building a mental barrier, to no avail. It was too hard to concentrate while his fingers and mind violated me.

It would be so easy to just let go, I thought, give him what he wants and make the pain stop. I could be with Concy again, for all time. All I’d have to do is tell him what he wants.

“That’s it, John,” Baptiste’s voice became a seductive purr. “Just let go of your pride, your stubbornness. It’s only making this last longer.”

Something caught my eye through the haze of pain. Kraken lined the windows, as many as I’d ever seen in one place, with still more joining them. I glanced quickly at the large methane filled tubes, surprised to see them packed with the ray-like creatures. Hope washed over me, a gentle blanket of calm with a thread of defiance running through it.

It hit me. The kraken were using their empathic abilities to bolster my resolve, sending me wave upon wave of positive reinforcement to counteract Baptiste’s assault on my mind.

Baptiste picked up on it as well, his wrecked face registering mild surprise at the passive resistance.

“Oh? So this is where your defense is coming from, is it?” He turned his head, slowly regarding the aliens. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware the smaller ones were that strong.” Grip remaining firm, he closed his eyes. I could feel the pressure on my mind shifting, still present, but focused on something else. “I’ve wondered, you know, if I could…”

Muted pain knifed through my brain, the psychic wake of a mental torpedo as it surged toward another target. Several kraken fell away from their position on the window, plummeting into the depths.

“That was…strangely satisfying.” A grin spread across his face. “Let’s do it again.” Another ripple of psychic force, and another kraken plummeted. I swear, if he could clap his hands together, he would. With sniper-like precision, Baptiste sent Kraken after Kraken into the abyss before turning back to me.

“Do I have your attention now, big guy?” He called out. Yeah, he was crazy. Pretty sure that’s been established. “Well, that was fun, but I really should finish what I started. Okay, maybe just one more.” Another Kraken writhed in agony as it fell away. He guffawed. “Now, where were we?”

“You were about to let me go, and commit seppuku?” It was worth a shot.

“Ah, right—the access codes.” The pressure on my mind came back, a wrecking ball slamming into my head, breaking through what little resistance I had. The Kraken’s defensive shield crumbled under the assault, leaving me open to Baptiste’s will.

“And there we are.” The self-satisfied smirk on Baptiste’s face didn’t give much insight into how much time I had left. Could be minutes, could be days. Either way, there was no doubt that I was in for a boatload of excruciating pain.

“Since we have some time left together, Johnny, let’s experiment a little.” The mental fingers poked inside my head some more. “… No, not there…maybe over… Hm. Ah!” Like he had flipped a switch, the pain in my body disappeared. Not that it did me much good, I was still firmly in his grasp. “Now, what if I do…”