Nasferas: The Begotten

12

Pops and gurgles about his ears woke Davidar. Gelatinous liquid drained away from his face, down through a port at the bottom of his pod. Bursts of lukewarm air consumed his body. Fluid attached to his skin and flight suit evaporated. Several tubes retracted from his stomach and nose. They stung and smelled of rotten corpse.

Sparks lit the inside of his settle and the cover opened. He sat up and gulped in the air. A mesh of blurred images overwhelmed him. Rauz wiggled against his chest, snorted, and yawned. His little arms stretched from side-to-side. Rows of razor-sharp teeth gnashed together within his flattened snout. The feel of his pet calmed his nerves and those scattered pictures came into focus.

Lights throughout the room blinked a macabre waltz. They danced and spun over his silent family. Fear overcame him as he reached up to free himself. Both hands had emaciated into loose-skinned skeletal digits. They wouldn't even ball into fists. Without their use, he struggled and pulled with his wrists and elbows until he crumpled to the cold floor.

Electrified tingles ran like mummy wrap around his body. Attempts he made to stand ended with a thump back to the ground. Several tense moments passed. He grasped the side of the settle, found his balance, and held steady with one hand. Then he willed his fingers to pinch down on the nape of Rauz's neck and set the creature inside a drawer.

After he tucked Rauz in, his gaze set upon Ralia and the others. Crude covers made from the ship's panels kept him from seeing any of their faces.

Why haven't they opened yet? Where had the new covers come from?

Davidar hobbled to the door and waited. Nothing happened. When sealed, only someone on the other side could open them. He pushed the communicator button.

"Uncle Moroo!" Davidar didn't recognize his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Are you there, Uncle?" His voice sounded like rusted gears. He smashed his hand into the box until it went numb. The whine and hiss of static on the other end were all he heard.

Davidar knew where his uncle and cousin had probably hidden an emergency lever. He looked at the two panels to the left of the door and found the release mechanism. Even using his body weight, he couldn't budge the parallel switch. Ranloo's strength would be very welcome now, he thought. The room had a couple of panel sheets and tools laying on the ground. Someone had been busy while the rest of them slept.

On top of one of the square plates, Davidar found a long cylindrical piece. A tube large enough to use as leverage. He dragged the bar over to the door. With some effort, he lifted and placed it on the lever. His arms didn't have the strength to push down. This time, when he used what body weight he had left, the door creaked open.

A blast of dust and debris knocked him to the ground. He struggled to his feet and shuffled out the door. The corridor had become a wobbly tunnel. One large light flickered on and off through a crack in the Flight Room door. Electricity popped and zapped intermittently along the walls and ceiling. The flashes revealed that the left side of the ship had caved in on itself. Near the Flight Room, the hull turned up at a forty-five-degree angle as if it had been bent in half. He scanned the walls and ceiling for something to hold onto. Two cables ran from the demolished Engine Room to the Flight Room. Inside he'd find out the answers to several important questions. Had his uncle survived? Could he save the others? And where in the universes had they landed?

Hand over hand he pulled himself along the wires. Midway, both shoulders felt like they might pop out of their sockets, the cold floor stung his bare feet and every muscle between burned.

Objects in the room ahead became shadows behind the glare. But he steadily moved uphill over shards of glass and broken ship parts.

The pilot control chair should be straight ahead.

"Uncle Moroo," he whispered and squeezed through the crack in the door.

The spotlight fizzled out. Several screens on the console blinked on and off. Pain pierced through his left big toe. On instinct, he reached down with one hand and out with the other, grasping the flight control seat. Centrifugal force flipped it around and a figure slumped forward in the control chair.

Davidar yelled and fell back.

The corpse dropped on top of him. They both slid down toward the doorway and smashed against the wall.

"Uncle." Even though he'd expected to find him dead, he couldn't stand the thought of it. To him ... he'd said goodbye the night before. He pushed the body of his father's only brother away.

How many years had his uncle lived alone in space with nobody to keep him company? Judging from the tufts of white hair on the skull and scattered dust covered patches of skin, he had lived a long life. Davidar didn't believe the crash killed him. The death wasn't quick but had occurred over years of torturous solitude. The worst part, he'd been one button click away from a conversation the entire time. What amazing self-control.

Davidar checked the panel and couldn't find the button to release his family. It was a longshot because most ships had the release in the Engine Room.

He made his way back, sat and stared at the still quiet sarcophagi which held his family captive. In his heart, he said a silent eulogy. But he couldn't imagine having to open each settle individually. What would he do if he found the grisly remains of cousins, brothers, his sister, Ralia, and his dear mother?

No.

He had to save them, no matter what.

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