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 RON MILLER with original art by JIM HUMMEL |
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THE FINAL CHAPTER
Episode Three
mONSTER VS. mONSTER
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Legendary space hero Capt. Arthur Dume dies after an explosion destroys his spaceship in a remote sector of the space frontier. Before dying, though, he locks himself inside the SS-9, a heavily-armored fighting machine designed to defend cosmonauts and keep them alive indefinitely. Left in "combat mode," SS-9 kills the rescue team from space station Ganymede 12, takes over their rescue craft and attacks the space station itself, trying to fulfill Capt. Dume's final order: Take him to the sick bay at Ganymede 12, killing anyone who stands in the way. Now Lt. Lane and his crew realize they're in a fight to the death with a deadly machine that's programmed to kill. |
By
RON MILLER
of TheColumnists.com
IN THE GLOOMY outer corridor ring of Ganymede 12, the giant fighting machine known as SS-9, still carrying the remains of Captain Dume inside it, flashed through a review of its banked data on Federation space station blueprints. To reach the sick bay, it needed to cross the center of the wheel-shaped space station by way of corridor six, which led past crew quarters and the command center or bridge area of the station.
SS-9 had detected movement in the corridors ahead, so it knew it should expect more attacks. It surveyed its arsenal and made sure all weapons were properly charged, loaded and fully operative. It also detected damage to the movement mechanisms on its right appendage. It knew the damage was from the projectile fired at it by the human in the gunport--the human it had to destroy with its burning tool. The concept of "close call" didn't exist in SS-9's software, but the armored giant knew the missile had glanced off its polished metal surface just moments before detonating.
Impulse feedback made SS-9 aware it no longer could bring the tools in that appendage to a level forward position. That meant it would not be able to target any enemies with the firing devices contained there. It must compensate by diverting energy from that "arm" to other weaponry still functioning.
All these checks and re-checks of its circuits and memory cells took far less than one second of time. In fact, the surviving crew members of Ganymede 12 saw no sign of any hesitation in the SS-9 as they monitored it with concealed pinhole video cameras during its resumption of efforts to break down the last few hatchway doors keeping it out of their quarters. Once again, they saw SS-9 go to work with its burning tools to create weaker areas on the hatches, so it could hammer them loose.
ON THE BRIDGE, the din from SS-9's efforts echoed loudly. Everyone knew what that noisy pounding presaged and each of the seven surviving crew members looked to Lt. Jerry Lane to take some action or disclose some desperate plan.
"If our small weapons can't harm the SS-9 and we can't risk using the bigger weapons inside the station, then we have no choice but to abandon Ganymede 12," he told them at last. "But here's the bad news: We've already lost Racer One. That leaves just Racer Two as an escape craft. But it can only accomodate five of us. That means one of you will have to stay behind with First Officer Lomax and me until rescue ships arrive from fleet command."
"That'll take weeks," said Dr. Smiley. "You can't think you'll be able to hold off that monster that long."
"Not likely," piped up First Officer Lomax. "We're even worse off than that. There are only two ways to get to Racer Two: Go through the corridors and try to slip by that killing machine--or put on our space suits, go outside and walk down the hull to the big cargo door and make a dash for the launching platform."
"If that thing catches anybody outside, it'll blow them away in seconds," chimed in Yuri Kunetzov, the chief engineer. "And those damned things can detect us by sight, sound, heat or vibration. It'll know we're coming--and it'll be ready for us."
At that moment, they heard the crashing, squealing sound of yet another hatchway door giving way. Every door in the main corridor had been closed and locked the moment they knew SS-9 was back on board, but Kunetzov had predicted it would be through all those hatches in two hours max. The deafening noise underscored the collective mood of helplessness.
"Wait a minute," said Paula Keefer, who had turned around to check the communications screens linking them to Fleet Command. "There's something new coming in from Fleet HQ."
They all had felt abandoned by fleet command after SS-9 experts had sent messages advising them the machine was virtually indestructible, that they were doomed if SS-9 ever broke into the station and came after them. Still, desperate to seize any hope, they crowded close around Keefer to look over her shoulder at the display screen.
The message was simple: "Check your stores for spare SS-9 models."
They all looked at each other in wonderment, the simplicity of the solution hitting them all at once.
"That's it," said Dr. Smiley. "If we all get into armored survival suits like that, we'll have some kind of fighting chance against a single SS-9!"
"Better than that," said Lomax, "We can all escape using Racer Two! Five of us could ride inside and we could cable the other three to the hull outside. Those three could just sleep away peacefully in their survival suits!"
But Supply Clerk Ike Washington said, "Sorry, people, it won't fly." He turned to a console and called up the list of stores. His fellow quartermaster, Dale Hathaway, already was nodding his head sadly. When Washington saw what he needed to see, he turned to them, a grim look on his face.
"I was pretty sure that was too good to be true," he said. "This proves it. We just stocked the Galveston with their SS-9's last month and that cleaned us out. We're waiting for a new shipment of the suits. We only have one left down below--and it's the same sorry outfit we've had down there for the past year."
When he saw the blank looks that comment drew, Washington explained: "Dale and I call it the midget suit. It's the junior model they built, but never deployed because they never cleared Fed Juniors for the frontier. It's built for a teenage kid, not a full-sized cosmonaut. We got one by mistake and it doesn't fit anybody in this sector. It's totally useless."
"No, it's not," said Keefer, "--unless you all think I'm useless, too."
All eyes turned to the petite communications clerk, who was looking at the specs for the suit on Washington's screen.
"It'll fit me," she said.
LANE WAS in no position to argue when Keefer outlined the plan she'd come up with after looking at the specs for the lone SS-9 suit left in the supply depot. If her idea didn't work, at least three more of them were going to die aboard Ganymede 12.
"I'll
get into your so-called 'midget suit,'" she told them with
no little sarcasm, "and engage the SS-9 in the corridors.
While I'm holding him off, the rest of you will climb down the
hull. Five will board Racer Two while the lieutenant and Lomax
take up positions on the hull where they can watch what's going
on in the cargo bay."
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"What's going to happen to the three of you after that?" asked a very frightened Nurse Crawford, a very thin young woman who seemed to be literally vibrating with fear.
"We're sure SS-9 will detect the escape in progress and try to cut everybody off at the big hangar," Keefer replied. "If I can delay SS-9 long enough, Lane and Lomax may be able to draw SS-9 out onto the hull while the rest of you escape. If SS-9 forgets about me and goes outside after Lane and Lomax, I'll head for the nearest gunport. Then maybe I'll be able to get a clear shot at it. If I get Captain Doom in my sights, I guarantee you I'll blow him to hell and back. Then the three of us can wait inside until help arrives."
"Paula, you saw what happened to Taggart," said Dr. Smiley. "You can't take the chance of that happening to you. Once you start firing at that thing..."
"What choice do I have?" she replied. "Nothing but explosive rockets are going to blow that thing apart and I'm the best gunner we've got. If I'd been in that gunport the first time, we wouldn't be having this goddamned discussion!"
"She's right," said Lane. "She's the best gunner. No doubt about that now. I should have let her shoot instead of Taggart. That was my mistake and Taggart paid for it. Now Keefer's the best hope any of us have of getting out of this alive. But we have to work together on this--and do it fast!"
THE FREIGHT ELEVATOR from the supply depot arrived at the landing in the corridor outside the bridge with a quiet whirring sound that was drowned out by the terrible clamor SS-9 was making a few hatch doors away. Working rapidly, Washington and Hathaway wheeled in the small SS-9 outfit, which was standing erect, the helmet laid back to reveal the narrow opening Keefer would slide through into the small command perch inside. Hathaway rolled a wheeled ladder over and Keefer scampered up it and poised at the lip of the suit.
"I'll run through all the systems to make sure they're all functional first," she said to Lane, who was helping the others suit up for their scramble onto the exterior hull of Ganymede 12. "I'll try not to fire off any missiles by mistake. Can you check on SS-9 for me first, before I drop inside?"
"I just did," he said. "It's through the first four hatches already. If you're lucky, you have about 20 minutes before it gets here."
Keefer nodded and prepared to pull the helmet down behind her. Then she paused and looked Lane in the eye.
"I'm sorry things worked out the way they did," she said. "We could have been good friends."
Lane didn't like her morose tone. He cared for this woman much more than he had ever let on. Now that their time might be running out, he wanted her to know that somehow. He struggled for the right words.
"I'm sorry, too," he said, quietly. "But maybe there's still time for us to start over again. You need to know I never doubted your abilities. I was trying to look out for you and it just didn't come out right. I guess I wanted to protect you, but I wound up hurting you instead. Just promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks, Paula, and maybe we'll all come out of this alive."
Paula felt a sadness come over her. They were talking as if these might be their last words together. Under other circumstances, she would have resented his condescending attitude and let him know it in no uncertain terms. But now she realized he was expressing affection for her, clumsy as it might be. She had always liked this calm, rather distant man and, unexpectedly, his words touched her profoundly.
"Of course," she said. "Let's talk about it after this is over."
She released her grip and let herself slide down into the SS-9 suit, hopefully before he saw the tears welling in her eyes. She reached up and brought the helmet down, shutting herself off from view. She jostled around a bit for the most comfortable position, then tripped the switches that activated the suit's complex systems. The eye-level viewscreen rippled into life and she saw Lane standing there, a look on his face she thought seemed mournfully tender--and totally out of place for the hardass by-the-book character she'd always pictured him to be.
One by one, Keefer tried all the commands. Her SS-9 responded so quickly that it was uncanny. She almost felt as if it anticipated her commands. All tools and devices were running properly. All weapons were primed and ready. As much as she could in the limited area of the bridge, she tried turning and bending motions. Her arms and legs fitted into firm sleeves that seemed to read her own muscle and nerve impulses, so the bulky device quickly began to move almost instinctively with her thoughts.
Lane and the others watched her run through these drills and were impressed. The small young woman with the girlish form had disappeared into a dark, fierce-looking robot-like figure that made the room shake with every step it took. Keefer raised the faceplate when she saw the first five crew people start for the airlock that led directly to the outer hull. Lane was now climbing into his EVA suit and Lomax, who was already suited and helmeted, was helping him.
"Can you hear me, Paula?" said Lane.
"Yes I can, quite clearly," she said with an amplified, slightly tinny voice. "Good luck to you all!"
Lane and Lomax gave her the "thumbs up" sign as they turned toward the airlock, then Lane turned and said, "Before you go, find a mirror and check yourself out." Then he waved and closed the airlock door behind them.
Keefer stood alone on the deserted bridge and wondered where she'd find a mirror in there. Finally, she saw a dark viewscreen that reflected her image, so she clumped over to it, closed her visor and looked at her hazy reflection on her viewscreen inside. What she saw brought a smile to her face. One of the supply clerks had done a last minute bit of customization to her helmet. In white block letters, her SS-9 now bore the words: DOOM KILLER.
AS SOON AS the seven cosmonauts reached the outer hull and activated
their clingerboots, SS-9 picked up the noise and the vibrating
signal field. It had already loosened the final hatchway door
leading to the bridge and was hammering it with its steel-clawed
left arm. Hesitating, it ratcheted up the signal and honed the
direction. Instantly, it concluded the enemy was trying an end-run
to get behind it before launching the next attack.
On the other side of the buckling hatchway door, Paula Keefer was watching the SS-9 through a pinhole videocam located in the corridor ceiling. She saw it turn, elevate its sensing antenna, then reverse course rapidly down the dark corridor. She waited until it passed out of camera view around a corner, then blew the locks on the damaged door and stepped into the corridor.
Outside, on the hull, Lane and Lomax took up their positions--Lomax behind an antenna array, Lane behind a docking crane. They watched as the five others scrambled for the yawning hangar doorway. Lane had opened the doors before any of them left the bridge and activated the pulleys that rotated Racer Two into launch position. The huge hangar was now open to space and totally airless. Once the five boarded Racer Two, there was nothing left to do but trip the launch switch and the little flier would be catapulted into space where its engines could be ignited safely.
Inside Ganymede 12, Keefer hurried after SS-9, realizing she was making so much noise in the corridor that the acutely-sensitive listening devices SS-9 carried surely had made it aware someone was following by now. She certainly could detect SS-9 with her own devices and waited for the moment she would note its forward motion had stopped and it was turning to confront the enemy behind it. Still, she was surprised at how rapidly the bigger SS-9 had retraced its path through the corridors toward the hangar bay. Now she worried it might even get there before the crew could board Racer Two and get away.
A
few moments later, Keefer heard a burring sound from the console
and saw that SS-9 had indeed paused in its headlong rush toward
the hangar. She was now approaching the bent wreckage of a hatchway
door, so she slowed and maneuvered carefully around it. She wanted
secure footing at all times in case the SS-9 charged her from
the darkness ahead. It turned out to be a smart move because
the first attack came right after she passed through the warped
doorframe.
Before she saw anything, she felt a tremendous series of jolts
and instinctively leaned forward as her machine reeled backward
from the impact and banged against the corridor wall. SS-9 had
fired a barrage of high velocity soft blunt pellets that would
blow gaping holes in human flesh, but splattered harmlessly against
the thick metal of her suit. Keefer realized she'd be ready for
the trash compactor if she hadn't been wearing her own SS-9.
The deadly pellets hadn't even dented her suit. Quickly, she
jacked into a straight-up position against the wall as the hulking
SS-9 came for her with its flame-thrower and diamond-tipped buzz-blade
whirling in the dim light.
Turning to one side, Keefer launched a six-foot steel netting at the SS-9, hoping to tie up the buzzsaw, but the whirling blade knifed through the mesh instantly and kept coming for her. Reacting without consciously thinking about it, Keefer ducked away from the blade--and was astounded when her own SS-9 crunched down into a crouch, following her lead, but holding her in an almost crushing grip. Lashing out with the one arm that was still extended from firing the mesh, Keefer extended a drill and slammed it into the SS-9's front leg as it prepared to drop the blade on her helmet. Sparks flew and the huge hulk teetered to one side. Encouraged, Keefer slammed against the bladed arm and drove the buzzsaw into the corridor wall where it shredded the lighter surface metals with a great shower of sparks, then stuck there.
Rising up, Keefer jammed her drill into the midsection of SS-9 with no effect, then saw that the behemoth's other arm was dangling free and seemed unable to bring any of its weapons to bear on her. Automatically, she hoved to that side, sensing that might be SS-9's only area of vulnerability. Just as she moved, though, the SS-9 kicked out at her with such tremendous force that she was knocked off her feet and rolled over on her back, dazed. As she struggled to stay conscious, Keefer felt a heavy jolt on her suit and realized the monster had placed its heavy foot on her chest. She watched in horror as it tugged the whirling blade tool from the section of wall and leaned over to start sawing at her armored helmet. Through her flickering viewscreen, she saw the dark, featureless visage of SS-9 bearing down on her, the word DOOM looming out of the darkness.
Then suddenly the whirling blade halted its descent toward her and withdrew into the monster's arm. She watched as SS-9 quickly rose up, turned and continued its rush down the corridor away from her. Still dazed and badly shaken, Keefer checked her own console and realized her suit detectors were reporting many sounds emanating from the hangar area. SS-9 had made a choice: Stop the enemy surprise attack first, then come back and destroy this much-weaker armored foe.
FROM his position behind the mooring crane, Lt. Lane saw Washington and Hathaway climb onto the launch platform, then turn to help Dr. Smiley, Nurse Crawford and Kunetzov climb up beside them. Then he watched in shock as a huge, dark figure appeared on the platform beyond them: SS-9. Paula had failed to stop it and must be dead herself. Lane propelled himself out from behind the crane and started toward the crew, waving his arms, but they must have felt the heavy tread of the SS-9 on the platform because he saw them turn and freeze as it marched toward them. Bravely, Kunetzov hurled himself at the giant while the others scattered for cover, but he ran into a burst of concentrated flame that made his EVA suit swell up instantly, then explode. The SS-9 turned next to Crawford, who was trying to crawl away under Racer Two. It spiked her leg with a steel probe and hauled her out from under the spacecraft. The puncture to her suit surely had killed her instantly, but SS-9 turned its buzzsaw blade on her anyway and cut the poor woman to pieces.
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By
then, Lane had reached the yawning door to the hangar and SS-9
spotted him. It was also tracking the two supply clerks and Dr.
Smiley simultaneously. Striding toward Lane, SS-9 fired off a
barrage of pellets that blew an enormous hole in Smiley's suit,
killing him instantly. Washington and Hathaway came at it from
opposite sides, wielding large fireaxes that could cut through
steel cable. It turned on Hathaway and ran him through with some
kind of revolving gouge tool that leaped out at least five feet
from one arm, but Washington struck SS-9 with the axe with such
force that the arm that had been damaged by Taggart's glancing
shot earlier in the day came away entirely.
SS-9 paid no attention to the "amputation," but simply
advanced on Washington, pinning him against the giant hangar
door, crushing him with effortless ease.
Lane knew he was doomed now, but he was determined to do some damage of his own to this awesome force before it finished him off. He was armed with a grapple gun used to bring drifting objects closer to the station, so they could be retrieved. He had hoped to tangle SS-9 in the long trailing cable and at least slow it down while Paula battled it with her superior weapons. Now it was his only hope for his own survival as the monster carrying the corpse of Capt. Doom turned toward him.
"Jerry, look behind it!" came the voice of Lomax over his helmet radio.
Lane had been so focused on the advancing SS-9 that he had missed what Lomax saw from his perch outside: The other SS-9, the "midget suit," had just entered the hangar from the corridor and was coming up behind the giant.
PAULA KEEFER was horrified at the carnage she saw as she came
out of the darkness into the lighted hangar. Bodies lay everywhere,
some of them torn to pieces. One EVA suit stood upright, but
ended just above the juncture of the legs. She saw the SS-9 and
realized it was just seconds away from attacking Jerry Lane.
Without a moment's delay, she fired off a cable that looped around
the SS-9's legs like a bolo and hauled at it with all her might.
It turned out the SS-9 suit she wore multiplied all her might
by a considerable percentage and she was astounded to see the
monstrous killing machine yanked off its feet.
"Get into Racer Two, Jerry," she shouted over her radio, "...and get the hell out of here!"
"I've got a better idea," he yelled back. "Can you hold him off me? I'll just need a minute or two."
"I'll try," she said and charged the SS-9, which had severed her cable with its sawblade and was starting to rise.
"Listen to me," said Lane as he moved across the hangar toward the waiting spacecraft. "That thing has lost its right arm. That's where its grapple gun is stored. If we can launch it into space somehow, it won't be able to come back like it did when we blew the hatch. If we can disable that sawblade, we may be able to lash it to Racer Two and send it off on a trip that'll never end."
"Keep talking," she said as she fired off her own volley of soft metal slugs, knocking SS-9 sprawling again.
Lane was now directly opposite the giant and needed to get by it to reach Racer Two. He saw it turn toward him and knew he could never move fast enough to dodge a volley of those slugs. That's when Lomax, sizing up the situation, fired his own weapon--a long range flare rocket for use in planet atmospheres. It burst harmlessly against SS-9's bulky chest, but distracted the monster long enough for Lane to reach the platform and climb onto it.
"If you can keep Mr. Doom right where he is now, I think I can pull this off," Lane said to Paula as he stepped to the spacecraft entry hatch.
She waved at him and fired another volley of slugs at SS-9 as Lane ducked into Racer Two and popped back out again, this time carrying a remote starting device.
SS-9 wasn't cooperating, though. It lifted up, brushing away the remains of the flattened slugs, and came at Keefer with the sawblade out and twirling. She had tried everything else already, so Paula knew it was time to use her own rotary buzzsaw. Like enormous duellists, they approached each other with blades whirling and the first time the blades met they shot off a tremendous shower of sparks. Banging up against each other, they pushed and shoved, each struggling to find an opening to bring the blade down on the other. When they were locked chest to chest, Lane thought they looked like David and Goliath. Paula couldn't possibly hold SS-9 off when it outweighed her so much.
But she was trying everything in her arsenal. When they bumped helmets, Paula brought up her other arm and fired a burst from her suit's laser cutting beam right at the other helmet. It popped open SS-9's visor and Arthur Dume's skeletal head lolled against the faceplate grotesquely.
"Get off me!" she yelled at the machine that was now pressing her down toward the hangar floor.
Up came the SS-9's blade arm again, but this time it stopped in the air--grabbed by the grapple cable Lane had fired from the launch platform. Knowing this might be her last chance to escape, Paula pushed up at the arm, forcing it further back and scrambled to her feet. She had one more grappling cable of her own left, so while SS-9 engaged in a tug of war with the cable Lane now had lashed to Racer Two, she stepped back and fired the second grappler at a low angle, set to wrap, and saw it grip SS-9's legs. With Lane winching his cable in one direction and her pulling her cable as hard as her SS-9 could pull in the opposite direction, the machine toppled again and lay flailing, its buzzsaw blade too far from either cable to cut itself loose.
"Get out of the way!" Lane yelled and jumped from the launch platform, the remote device clutched in the gloved hand of his EVA suit.
Keefer stood clear as Lane landed on the hangar deck and pressed the ignite button, sending Racer Two shooting up the launch ramp, dragging SS-9 and Paula behind it. Frantically, she whirled her own rotary blade down on the cable linking her to SS-9 and snapped it just as the little spaceship rocketed through the open bay door. She saw SS-9 deploying tool after tool as it desperately tried to sever the cable gripping its uplifted arm, but all in vain. Without the missing arm, it was unable to free itself and their last vision of SS-9 was of a dark figure speeding away in the wake of Racer Two, one arm raised as if making a farewell salute to the survivors of Ganymede 12.
"Goodbye and good riddance," said Lane when he finally stood by Keefer and Lomax in the charnel house that once was a cargo bay, staring off toward the canopy of distant stars where Racer Two had vanished. "If we're lucky, that monstrosity won't stop till it gets sucked into some black hole a billion light years from here."
"In the meantime," said Keefer, "I think we should send Fleet Command a few ideas for making some changes in the SS-9 design."
All three chuckled over that bit of graveyard humor. Then Keefer felt Lt. Lane take her thickly armored hand as they stared out at distant space together. She was amazed the circuitry in her survival/combat suit was so sensitive that she actually could experience so gentle a touch. She was even more amazed to realize who was doing the touching. Somehow she knew then and there that her life was going to change for the better at last.
The three of them seemed transfixed by the view of infinite space from the cargo bay. There wasn't much more to say now--and much work ahead to repair the catastrophic damage to Ganymede 12. As they gazed out at the space frontier, they knew only one thing for certain about their future: No matter what became of them in the years to come, they forever would be a part of the story of the legendary "Captain Doom" and his bizarre end at the battle of Ganymede 12.
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Twenty-seven years later, Racer Two's voyage through the galaxy began to slow and finally ended when it became trapped in the gravitational pull of an asteroid belt in a twin star system only recently opened to exploration by the Federation. Badly-worn by its long journey, the little spaceship no longer had any operable systems. Floating behind it, still tethered by a long flexi-steel cable permanently grappled to its extended left arm was SS-9. It had become a tomb, shaped like a man. Inside, the skull and bones of Capt. Dume were intact, still linked together by threads of sinew, gristle and mummified skin.
For
nearly three decades, Racer Two and SS-9 had rocketed through
a cold and empty gulf, so the solar-nourished systems built into
the survival suit had long since stopped functioning. But the
millions of tiny cells built into the back of the helmet now
began to glow from the faraway, but measurable heat from the
twin suns. As the cells began to refresh and renew themselves,
they began to rebuild still more cells within the complex memory
system.
It would take years for the slow-percolating energy to build
enough for the backpack built into model SS-9 to open itself
and shake out the great umbrella-like energy collector the Federation
scientists had so carefully designed to fully recharge the suit
for long-term survival activity. But valuable information circuits
already were beginning to trickle with energy. The first high
priority memory bit now was fully formed. It was a command: "Take
me to the sick bay at Ganymede station. Let nothing stop you!"
© 2001 by Ron Miller. All rights reserved. Original "Doom Survivor" art © 2001 by Jim Hummel. The "Racer Two" and "Lt. Lane" art is from IMSI's Master/Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. East, San Rafael, CA 94901-5506, USA.
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Ron Miller was a nationally syndicated TV columnist for Knight Ridder Newspapers from 1977-99 and is a former national president of the Television Critics Assn. He's the author of "Mystery! A Celebration" and a founding partner in TheColumnists.com. He now writes the "Case Book" column for the official PBS Mystery! website.
Jim Hummel is one of America's most acclaimed comic artists and illustrators. Visit his website at: http//home.pacbell.net/k2it/
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