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Just My Imagination: Part 5 - No Way Out by Andrew Williams Scott didn't know what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. On the outside, Scarrid ships and stations were spiky and preferred dark colours. Inside this base was a myriad of pastel shades, smooth curves and what he guessed was Scarrid art. Then again, they could be maps of the station or warning notices. He couldn't tell. He'd thought, especially after the gloom of the docking bay, that the station itself would be dark, cold and forbidding. While the lighting had been largely knocked out by the stun torpedo there was still a fairly bright level of emergency lighting, and he was astonished at how hot it was inside the station. Then he thought of school biology lessons, and it all made sense. The Scarrid were reptiles - cold blooded. If the temperature dropped too far, they'd be too cold to move. No wonder their life support systems were so powerful. He wondered if they had difficulty with low light levels as well. So far they had yet to see any Scarrid. He was curious about them, but also rather glad he hadn't had to fight any of them. "Sir," whispered one of Peterson's men. "I'm reading movement ahead." "Hold positions, people," Peterson said. "What can you tell me, Baker?" "Multiple signals, slow moving," reported Baker. "Taking up defensive positions on the other side of that door." "Fan out, people. Baker, Crouch, continue scans. I don't want to be surprised by any more. Where is everyone?" "It's a fairly new station," commented the elder Scott. "Perhaps they've not fully crewed it yet. And of course, we've taken a lot out in the battle." "Maybe," replied Peterson. "I don't like it, though." Then the door opened, and several Scarrid came through behind a volley of small arms fire. The party scattered, firing back at the aliens as they did. Scott saw people on both sides fall. He realised that the others had all moved while he had frozen, stood alone in the middle of the chamber. He looked ahead into the eyes of a Scarrid warrior (the claws look at the claws the size of them!) and the Scarrid looked back at him. For a moment they stood frozen. Then the Scarrid sprang, and Scott raised his blaster. It was so fast! Then it was on him, and he frantically pulled the trigger but it was too late, too late and everything was going dark... "Scott! Scott!" He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed so heavy. Was it time for school already? "Scott! Wake up!" No, let me sleep. So tired. "It's no good. Give him a shot." Shot? There was a sudden sensation of coldness in his left arm, and he felt a surge of strength enter him. His eyelids grew light enough for him to lift them. It took a moment to adjust to the light. "...what happened?" he managed. "You managed to stun yourself," said Peterson. There was a smile on his face and a quiver in his voice that suggested he was trying not to laugh. "You had that gun set on wide beam and caught yourself in the blast." "Sorry," Scott smiled back. "It's my first ray-gun." Peterson did laugh then. "What happened to the Scarrid?" "You got him," Peterson replied. "He's been restrained and he's still sleeping. You hit him pretty hard with that thing." "How's everyone else?" "Most of us made it. A few others got hit by stun blasts, same as you. Three men are dead. The good news is, we think this little lot were the main defence force. Most of the Scarrid were out there in the battle." "So where's Mike?" "Just finding that out now," said Jenny, accessing what looked like a computer panel. "The translation computer is struggling but I think we've worked out where the holding area is. Several human prisoners." "Mike and his crew?" asked elder Scott. "That's what we're hoping." "Route laid out, sir," said Jenny. Peterson nodded. "Lets go. Crouch - take point. Baker - you're watching our backs." He took a metallic stick from his belt and placed it on the floor. It pointed back the way they'd been and glowed faintly. "Just in case we need to get out quick," he explained to Scott. Scott nodded, rubbing his legs to get the circulation going again. "Let's move out." They encountered a few groups of Scarrid on the way, mostly twos and threes hiding in little alcoves and dead end corridors. Scott was relieved not to need to shoot any. At intersections and sometimes in longer corridors Peterson placed more of the glowing sticks, a trail of phosphorescent breadcrumbs. "Why aren't they attacking us?" asked the elder Scott. "They're probably grouped at the engineering and bridge sections," replied Jenny. "They're expecting us to take over the station, not go for the prisoners. But keep your eyes peeled." As they moved through the station, Jenny seemed to be proved right. No more Scarrid attacked them on the way to the cells. After what felt like a mile of corridors and access tunnels they finally reached a heavy looking doorway. Scarrid symbols surrounded the door, an incomprehensible message warning them of... something. Scott had no idea what they said, or even which direction they were supposed to read them in. "Is this it?" he asked. "I think so," replied Jenny. "Now how do we open it?" Peterson beckoned to one of his troops, a tall and muscular woman with purple hair (Scott guessed she'd dyed it, but he didn't know that for sure). She took a small metallic box from her belt and attached it to a square plate set into the wall beside the door. "A few minutes, sir," she reported, in a remarkably deep voice. "Get ready, people," said Peterson. "Baker, Crouch, watch our backs. Jenny, Taylor, be ready for that door. I don't want to find a dozen guns pointed at us when it opens." "Two minutes," reported the purple-haired woman, bent over her metallic box. Scott suddenly realised that she had a set of wires going from the box into her arm and he shuddered. "Anything coming?" asked the elder Scott. "Nothing on radar." Scott gripped his stun pistol tightly, watching the door. Was Mike in there? Was he alright? "One minute." Scott thought there was an electronic tone to her voice and suddenly realised that she might not be human. He asked Jenny about this. "Her?" Jenny smiled. "No, she's a robot. The Delilah Femdroid, actually. Security droid. Some ship captains like their deadly weapons to look nice." "Um..." "You didn't know?" Scott blushed. "Well, no," he admitted. "I've heard of them, but I've never seen one." "We're in," said the Delilah, bringing a halt to their conversation. Scott wondered if she/it knew they'd been talking about her/it but, if the Delilah had heard, she/it gave no outward sign. The door irised open, segments disappearing into the walls. Hails of deadly weapons fire didn't emerge. "Let's go," said Peterson. "Delilah, stay here. If the door closes we'll need you to let us out again." "Yes sir," replied Delilah, as the group headed in. The cells consisted of a round chamber, with the cells being triangular spikes all around it. Each cell was sealed by a small crystalline door that gave a view of the occupant. Beside each door, the wall was covered in more alien symbols. They seemed to change every few seconds, and Scott realised they were information panels. Inside each cell was a single prisoner. Many were moving around, but no sound penetrated the crystal doors. A few cells held Scarrid prisoners but most held humans. The elder Scott cried out. "Mike!" Scott followed him over to a cell containing a middle-aged man that at first he didn't recognise. Then he looked closer, and like an optical illusion it became obvious. It was his friend Mike, but older. "Jeff! How do we open these?" "I'm working on it," said Peterson, studying a console in the centre of the main chamber. "If I press random buttons I could be letting out a bunch of Scarrid so dangerous their own species locked them up." "What about Delilah?" asked Scott. "She could help." Peterson shook his head. "I need her where she is." "Nothing for it, then," said Jenny. "Eeny, meeny, miney mo..." She pushed a button at random, and on the other side of the chamber a door irised open. Several human weapons aimed in that direction, but the cell was empty. "Okay. How about this one?" Another button, and another cell door opened. This time a bedraggled human crewman staggered out and collapsed in front of them. Taylor began checking him out with a portable medical computer. "I think I've got it now," said Jenny. "This one should be Mike's door." She pushed another button, and a third door rotated into the surrounding wall. It wasn't Mike's. A Scarrid warrior, startled by his new-found freedom, ran out into the central chamber, claws extended. There was a flash of light and the Scarrid collapsed in a heap. "Oops," said Jenny. "I forgot to take the Schrobenheimer Variation into account when I transposed the hyperbole of the conjugate." Peterson shouldered his laser rifle. "You made that up," he said. "Well... yes," Jenny admitted. "Ready to try another one?" This time a young woman emerged from her cell. Scott the Elder recognised her as Vara, Mike's navigator. "This is taking too long," complained Peterson. "We need to get out of here before their engineers get the power back on line." "Alright, alright," muttered Jenny. "I'll open them in threes. Have your guns ready." Two more crew, and an empty cell. Next, a Scarrid and a human. Next, two Scarrid. Then finally, two empty cells and a very weary Mike. "Right," said Jenny. "Let's get out of..." The main lights suddenly came back on. "...here." "Out of time," muttered Peterson. They ran for the airlock, several Scarrid in pursuit. The station's gridded floors and ceilings were designed for clawed feet, so their pursuers were able to catch them up far too easily - and from above as well as below. Guns taken from fallen friends and enemies alike were given to the recently freed prisoners. The glowing tubes that Peterson had dropped along the way in now proved their worth, for in the confusion Scott doubted they could have remembered the route back. They burst into the hangar, Peterson yelling into his communicator to start the shuttle up. Scott was relieved to see the hole in the airlock door and the shuttle still behind it, ready for their escape, and almost fell inside as they reached it. He saw the Delilah Femdroid at the door, laser rifle in each hand, coolly blasting at anything in range. She seemed oblivous to the returning fire that blazed around her. "Come on, Delilah!" said Peterson. "Let's get out of here!" Delilah sprang inside the opening, and the shuttle doors slid closed. A few moments later the shuttle released the airlock doors, and the explosive decompression of the launch bay threw their shuttle clear of the station. Scott's Battlestation glided between them and the station, shielding them with its bulk as they headed for a docking bay on the far side. As soon as they touched down Scott sent word to his bridge. "Crew - we're back safe. Target the station with the big guns and finish it off." "Yes, sir!" came the reply. Even in the docking bay, the sound of the Triquoquaric Annihilator discharging was... unpleasant. A deep hum, a heavy warble and a vibration that threatened to shake your brain into a syrupy mess, then pour it out of your ears. Scott tried not to imagine what it felt like on the receiving end. There was a brief pause, while the generator struggled to recharge the weapon batteries, and then it came again. When it stopped the second time, it did not continue. "Bridge to captain. Target has been destroyed." The docking bay was filled with whoops of celebration. Only Delilah seemed unaffected by the news, which was hardly surprising. "People, let's not get carried away," said Peterson. "We're not out of danger yet." He activated his communicator again. "Okay people, what's happening over there?" "Scarrid forces seem to be regrouping," responded his ship. "They seem rather shaken by the loss of the station. Will you be rejoining us yet, Captain?" "Shortly," replied Peterson. "Just need to sort out a few things here." Scott spoke to Mike. "I'm sorry about your ship," he said. "Would you like mine?" Mike gasped. "This Battlestation? But... it's huge! It must have cost a fortune!" "You need a ship. I can't exactly leave it in my bedroom when I get home. And someone needs to look after all these crewmen." Mike was speechless for a moment. "Alright," he managed. "When you've gone, I'll take over the ship. Uh... thanks..." "Just stay out of trouble. I don't want to have to come and rescue you again!" "So," said his counterpart. "You're leaving us again?" "Yeah," said Scott. "I'll stay here until we're all safe, and then I'll go home. My mother will be worried about me." "Will we still be in each others' heads?" Scott smiled. "I hope not!" "So what happens now?" asked Jenny. "Do you pop out of existence or something?" Scott's smile froze. A horrible thought occurred to him. "Jenny... everyone... I don't know how to get home. I don't know if I can get home. I'm not even sure how I got here. "I think I'm trapped here." Scott began to cry.