Descending Road - EVERYTHING TURNED TO GLUE by Dana W. Paxson

EVERYTHING TURNED TO GLUE

1563 4D

“Morons!” Marande swore. “Let’s go for it.”

Thrusting the smoking shield aside, Andrew leaped up and scurried forward, his carapiece banging against the tunnel ceiling. The end of the tunnel showed no light except in the visor overlay, where a red spark danced and flickered. The tunnel gleamed in Andrew‘s overlay as a shadowy pipe in green, the damaged section of conduit flashing dark blue.

“We’re coming up,” Nazrelo said in Andrew‘s earpiece.

They arrived at the gun site and nearly fell into a floor recess where the mountings stood. Darkness. Andrew got down to floor level and peered ahead. His visor showed him a short corridor ahead, and a dark space beyond. Smoke gagged him, and he coughed. Nazrelo and the others arrived and started coming down to fill the small recess.

Andrew‘s foot hit something soft. He looked down at a body outlined in his visor display. It lacked a head.

“We gotta move out through there,” Nazrelo said. “I don’t read anything.”

Andrew pushed the body aside. Fatigue swarmed over his thin layer of energy, and he sat down. “I need to sit for a second.”

“We’ll wait for you up ahead,” Nazrelo said. “Come on, people.” The others moved past Andrew and Jeddin.

“Can you go on?” Jeddin.

“We’re going to have to eat soon. Turiosten‘s been waiting, and I feel like I could fall over.”

Jeddin looked ahead, then back. “Not much we can do right now.”

Andrew pulled his helm off and took a few deep breaths of the grimy air. The underground world seemed to close in around him, and for a moment he understood Grendel‘s panic at the weight of infinite stone. He put his head between his knees; Jeddin‘s hand massaged his neck and sent warmth through his spine.

Just a little farther. Just a little more. Somehow it would all work out, there wasn’t any other way. Stopping was death, and he could die any time he chose. At last he sat up, donned his helm, and called into his comm, “Nazrelo, I’m ready now.”

“It’s been absolutely quiet so far. We’ve seen nothing but a few rodents. This is a utility area and I think it’s the ship. But I can’t tell the difference between this and one of the old seagoing vessel mockups in the museums. You think this is the right place? It doesn’t look alien.”

As he and Jeddin moved along the corridor, helm back on, Andrew looked out of an unexpected window on his right to see ahead of him a dim bulge that arched out over his head as if he were about to pass under a giant egg. “Yeah, it looks like the spacecraft to me. I saw it a couple of times on my way to and from—“

Excited gabble. “Shit! What’s that?”

“I don’t know, but they’re coming.”

“Should we shoot?”

“Yes.”

“No, wait—“

Nazrelo called out, “Fire!”

Andrew arrived, ducked low away from the corridor entrance, and stared out into the space ahead. Along the wall to his left a group of dim shapes moved. To the right, a blast of beamlight revealed a second group. The blast bounced back into the knot of Nazrelo‘s group on that side; cries of pain went up.

“Shields!” Then voices grunted, cried out; bodies thudded; a ballistic gun went off; and a melee of bodies swirled at Andrew‘s right.

“Look left,” Angie said. Andrew spun to see a wave of dark figures in his display. He aimed a beam blast at their ankles; at the flash they stumbled and fell, their shields thumping to the deck.

To Andrew‘s surprise, Turiosten spoke. My turn. Its time to accelerate, or else we’ll get fried.

“Look out, Angie, we’re gonna speed up.” A detonation shook Andrew‘s spine, and everything turned to glue around him. He pushed his gaze first to the floor where four ratlike men smaller than he was climbed to their knees, eyes on him, knives moving faster than anything he had yet seen in this speeded-up state.

He surged to them and one by one took away all their knives and planted each one in the belly of its former owner. The beam of Marande‘s shot sank into a second shield on that side; Andrew snatched the shield away, and the bitter beamlight chewed the belly of a small man in brown.

An underwater dream: Andrew turned to see Jeddin dance in a zigzag between lethal beams, across to the other group of small attackers. Arriving, Jeddin fired a carefully-aimed beam blast point-blank into the ear of each one; just before their heads shattered, from each mouth and nose and pair of eyes, sudden light welled out. Jeddin‘s teeth flashed pearl.

Andrew turned once more to Nazrelo. Hit by the residual heat of a reflected beam, the man’s lower face had boiled into an inchoate mass. Andrew floated to the next man, maybe Warren, but the flash had charred the man’s face beyond recognition. Turning slowly face-downward, the dying man had floated halfway to the deck.

A knife had buried itself in the eye socket of a third fighter. The fourth and fifth lay dead in a syruped confluence of blood. Andrew stepped and turned to scan the room, and the shaft of a beam appeared at his left a hand’s width away, just missing him. Andrew‘s eyes followed the beam up to its source, a tall muscular man. It was Arlen.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	EVERYTHING TURNED TO GLUE 1563 4D “Morons!” Marande swore. “Let’s go for it.” Thrusting the smoking shield aside, Andrew leaped up and scurried forward, his carapiece banging against the tunnel ceiling. The end of the tunnel showed no light except in the visor overlay, where a red spark danced and flickered. The tunnel gleamed in Andrew‘s overlay as a shadowy pipe in green, the damaged section of conduit flashing dark blue. “We’re coming up,” Nazrelo said in Andrew‘s earpiece. They arrived at the gun site and nearly fell into a floor recess where the mountings stood. Darkness. Andrew got down to floor level and peered ahead. His visor showed him a short corridor ahead, and a dark space beyond. Smoke gagged him, and he coughed. Nazrelo and the others arrived and started coming down to fill the small recess. Andrew‘s foot hit something soft. He looked down at a body outlined in his visor display. It lacked a head. “We gotta move out through there,” Nazrelo said. “I don’t read anything.” Andrew pushed the body aside. Fatigue swarmed over his thin layer of energy, and he sat down. “I need to sit for a second.” “We’ll wait for you up ahead,” Nazrelo said. “Come on, people.” The others moved past Andrew and Jeddin. “Can you go on?” Jeddin. “We’re going to have to eat soon. Turiosten‘s been waiting, and I feel like I could fall over.” Jeddin looked ahead, then back. “Not much we can do right now.” Andrew pulled his helm off and took a few deep breaths of the grimy air. The underground world seemed to close in around him, and for a moment he understood Grendel‘s panic at the weight of infinite stone. He put his head between his knees; Jeddin‘s hand massaged his neck and sent warmth through his spine. Just a little farther. Just a little more. Somehow it would all work out, there wasn’t any other way. Stopping was death, and he could die any time he chose. At last he sat up, donned his helm, and called into his comm, “Nazrelo, I’m ready now.” “It’s been absolutely quiet so far. We’ve seen nothing but a few rodents. This is a utility area and I think it’s the ship. But I can’t tell the difference between this and one of the old seagoing vessel mockups in the museums. You think this is the right place? It doesn’t look alien.” As he and Jeddin moved along the corridor, helm back on, Andrew looked out of an unexpected window on his right to see ahead of him a dim bulge that arched out over his head as if he were about to pass under a giant egg. “Yeah, it looks like the spacecraft to me. I saw it a couple of times on my way to and from—“ Excited gabble. “Shit! What’s that?” “I don’t know, but they’re coming.” “Should we shoot?” “Yes.” “No, wait—“ Nazrelo called out, “Fire!” Andrew arrived, ducked low away from the corridor entrance, and stared out into the space ahead. Along the wall to his left a group of dim shapes moved. To the right, a blast of beamlight revealed a second group. The blast bounced back into the knot of Nazrelo‘s group on that side; cries of pain went up. “Shields!” Then voices grunted, cried out; bodies thudded; a ballistic gun went off; and a melee of bodies swirled at Andrew‘s right. “Look left,” Angie said. Andrew spun to see a wave of dark figures in his display. He aimed a beam blast at their ankles; at the flash they stumbled and fell, their shields thumping to the deck. To Andrew‘s surprise, Turiosten spoke. My turn. Its time to accelerate, or else we’ll get fried. “Look out, Angie, we’re gonna speed up.” A detonation shook Andrew‘s spine, and everything turned to glue around him. He pushed his gaze first to the floor where four ratlike men smaller than he was climbed to their knees, eyes on him, knives moving faster than anything he had yet seen in this speeded-up state. He surged to them and one by one took away all their knives and planted each one in the belly of its former owner. The beam of Marande‘s shot sank into a second shield on that side; Andrew snatched the shield away, and the bitter beamlight chewed the belly of a small man in brown. An underwater dream: Andrew turned to see Jeddin dance in a zigzag between lethal beams, across to the other group of small attackers. Arriving, Jeddin fired a carefully-aimed beam blast point-blank into the ear of each one; just before their heads shattered, from each mouth and nose and pair of eyes, sudden light welled out. Jeddin‘s teeth flashed pearl. Andrew turned once more to Nazrelo. Hit by the residual heat of a reflected beam, the man’s lower face had boiled into an inchoate mass. Andrew floated to the next man, maybe Warren, but the flash had charred the man’s face beyond recognition. Turning slowly face-downward, the dying man had floated halfway to the deck. A knife had buried itself in the eye socket of a third fighter. The fourth and fifth lay dead in a syruped confluence of blood. Andrew stepped and turned to scan the room, and the shaft of a beam appeared at his left a hand’s width away, just missing him. Andrew‘s eyes followed the beam up to its source, a tall muscular man. It was Arlen.