Alien Prison Ship Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Terrance Mulloy

  Tiny Empire Pty Ltd. All Rights Reserved.

  This publication is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without written permission from the author.

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  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  Buckle Up…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Thank you for reading

  Also by Terrance Mulloy

  The Emissary

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Growing up in Australia during the 80s and 90s, I enjoyed a glutinous and guilt-free diet of American pop-culture. My love of genre movies from that era, not only influence me as a writer today, it was also the catalyst that led me down the tumultuous path of screenwriting, and now, fourteen years later, writing sci-fi novels as an independent author. Essentially, this book is a culmination of all those films I loved as a kid.

  I wanted to give you, the reader, a fun and action-packed story that has the entertainment value of a big popcorn movie.

  I had a blast writing it. I hope you enjoy it.

  Terrance.

  For Clifford. Please stop eating my shoes.

  Buckle up…

  Chapter One

  Zeta Lyrae Quadrant.

  Uncharted fringes of the Perileos Nebula.

  Twelve light cycles from the Ulanean system.

  The dark object seared through the vacuum, drifting towards the outer columns of a massive nebula. The ship itself was roughly twice the size of a U.S. aircraft carrier, and if it were not for the brilliant hues of orange and violet silhouetted against it, its hull would be black as the void itself. There was also no identifiable insignia or crest visible anywhere.

  That was the idea.

  This ship was designed to be unidentified.

  As the ship penetrated a frayed curl of orange gas, ionized particles rippled from its rear bank of thrusters, casting a jaundiced glow until it was completely enveloped.

  The architecture that formed its interior was brooding and wet, with metallic surfaces that appeared to bristle as if they were somehow alive - somehow monitoring any activity within this floating fortress. Aside from mounted gun turrets, and high-voltage tethers that were studded with security hardware, the interior also contained a series of multi-latticed tiers, with each level housing dozens of pill-shaped sarcophagi that were in constant motion, rotating and shifting position like some insidious jigsaw puzzle that could never be assembled.

  Again, that was the idea.

  Along these tiers, humanoid forms moved slowly up and down, observing every facet of their surroundings. Every now and then, they would peer into the thin viewport of each sarcophagus as it came to a temporary halt before shifting direction. It would not take long for the casual observer to see that these humanoids were, in fact, guards, and this vessel was a high-security transport of some kind.

  An Alien Prison Ship.

  The guards were slender and muscular in build, and each one wore tightly fitted black suits that were not too dissimilar from neoprene wet-suits to look at. They appeared to be woven tightly onto their bodies, acting as an additional protective layer of skin. Their facial features were hidden by what looked like futuristic motorcycle helmets with reflective jet-black visors.

  One of these guards, Neuto, was a male member of a sentient race of beings called the Vuulgarb. But unlike most Vuulgarbians who served on this particular facility, Neuto’s mandate was to patrol the lowest rungs of the ship. A shitty job by any universal standard. These levels were solely reserved for the worst depths of galactic depravity, consisting of a motley hodge-podge of genocidal tyrants, murderers, despots, and terrorists.

  Despite nearing the end of his third watch, Neuto was nervous about the announcement that rippled across his visor a few cycles earlier. Due to the sudden flare-up of a rare supermassive gravitational anomaly in this system, the ship’s Commander had decided to divert from their original vectored course and punch a hole through an uncharted nebula.

  Navigating through giant gas clouds was hazardous for a variety of reasons - especially ones like this. It was ancient, yet it was still an active furnace of creation. Deep within, new stars were being forged in a tower of dust and gas, fifty-seven-trillion miles high. It was too immense and awesome for even space-faring beings like Neuto to comprehend. Not only that, there was no shortage of resource-thirsty marauders and cut-throats out here who were fond of hiding in the deep recesses of nebula clouds and asteroid belts.

  They were in a bad spot.

  Nevertheless, Neuto had a job to do. He continued along the tier, peering into each sarcophagus to catch fleeting glimpses of the incarcerated. When he reached the end of the tier, the sarcophagus nearest to him shifted away, and another larger one slotted into place.

  He knew this one well.

  Too well.

  Neuto took a moment as if summoning enough resolve before slowly turning to check on the imprisoned occupant.

  Inside, the faint neon-blue glow from the surrounding electronics revealed a bruising shape. Neuto caught shimmers of reptilian flesh as the prisoner’s deep cackle rumbled from behind the viewport. It was not a dismissive cackle, but a knowing one. It was meant to taunt Neuto. And it did. These two had history.

  Suddenly, a harsh klaxon began to wail throughout the ship. Every guard snapped to the sound, now alert with nervous tension.

  The prisoners inside their sarcophagi immediately began to chant over the droning alarm. Louder and louder. The name they were chanting was Venass. It was a name that struck fear into every guard and prisoner unlucky enough to be holed up inside this bucket of black steel

  Venass… Venass… Venass… Venass…

  As the chant grew into a deafening roar, Neuto wheeled to the sarcophagi in front of him. The reptilian prisoner had pressed his ugly mug against the viewport and was casting a menacing grin directly at him. No matter how many times Neuto saw this prisoner, his features were still utterly terrifying to behold. He was nothing more than a hulking mass of scaly flesh and knotted muscle. His neck and forehead were riddled with tattooed inscriptions of his personal military faction, and a thick, sinewy scar trailed unevenly down his right cheek, the result of some deadly close encounter from some long-forgotten war.

  He was known only as Venass, and he was the most feared warmonger this side of the galaxy.

  As the Prison Ship continued to navigate towards the heart of the nebula, a huge armada of thundering wars
hips suddenly emerged from a swirling pillar of gas, flanking them from behind. These new ships were strikingly different in shape and design. They appeared organic and egg-shaped, with greenish colored hulls.

  Reptilian.

  The underbelly of the largest reptilian ship began to peel open like the petals of some carnivorous plant. Inside, otherworldly engineering and mechanics were busy at work, preparing for attack. Then, fighter ships started poring out, swarming like an aggravated hornet’s nest. These smaller ships were also egg-shaped in design. Within seconds they had morphed into an offensive formation and engaged the Prison Ship.

  The Prison Ship banked hard as green rails of energy raked its hull. The explosions were instantly sucked away by the vacuum. The Prison Ship countered the onslaught and returned fire with its own defensive turrets.

  But it was no match.

  The lead reptilian ship swung around to face its fleeing quarry, firing a battery of huge projectiles from its primary cannon. The missile-shaped objects streaked towards the wounded Prison Ship, and before impacting, fractured into a cluster of smaller projectiles. They arced through space like a volley of flaming arrows. Some were caught in turret fire, but most made contact. They peppered the ship’s hull, slamming deep into it.

  But they did not detonate on impact. They opened.

  A small army of reptilian warriors exited each shard. They wore bizarre suits that were made from some type of organic, living tissue. Oily and scaly. They also wielded even stranger looking machinery, reminiscent of jackhammers and heavy power drills. Several teams formed along the spine of the ship, and they began cutting through the hull.

  The Prison Ship’s rear sentry turrets spotted the activity and swiveled around to fire on them. Some were picked off, blasted into space as nothing more than clouds of ash. Others held their positions by firing grappling hook devices into the hull, tethering themselves in order to continue their diabolical work.

  Back inside the Prison Ship, it was utter pandemonium. Stark warning lights flashed overhead, and proximity alarms wailed as guards ran in all directions, manning their respective stations, attempting to hail the bridge for assistance.

  There wasn’t much time left. Neuto had to reach the bridge and help secure it. The ship was being torn apart. He pushed through the chaos, briskly making his way towards a large circular hatch at the end of the tier. It looked like the entrance to a giant bank vault. As he reached it, a holographic security console appeared before him. There was a soft chime when he ran his fingers across it. The middle of the door opened like a dilated iris. But before he could step through—

  Ker-BOOOOM! A huge explosion rocked the lower tiers. Several guards and sarcophagi were blown to smithereens.

  Neuto was lifted clean off his feet, showered by a hail of flaming debris. He hit the ground hard, wearily looking up to see some of the prisoners were now free from their confines.

  There was a multitude of exotic species and sexes, all with one thing in common: they were hardcore criminals. They swarmed over the tier, attacking the remaining guards with brutal efficiency, their orange jumpsuits bathed in blue blood.

  One of the prisoners, a spindly amphibious looking thing, spotted Neuto and rushed him.

  Without hesitating, Neuto drew his back-holstered rifle and blew the god-awful thing back to its maker.

  Using the severed hand of a dead guard, one of the prisoners smeared it against a control console. There was a loud hydraulic groan as rotating sarcophagi began to power down, eventually all jolting to a dead stop. The prisoner then turned to the large sarcophagus that was holding Venass, waiting with tense anticipation for it to open.

  The cover slid back like a gun chamber, ejecting a puff of humid vapor. All the other prisoners paused what they were doing, watching with awe as Venass emerged from his confines, stepping down onto the tier with a heavy thud. The prisoners dropped to their knees and bowed. Venass took in the surrounding carnage, filtering the smoky air through the gill slits on his face.

  Only now did Neuto get a true sense of how imposing Venass really was. The blunted horn that protruded from the crown of his skull, indicated that in his species, he was as Alpha as they came. When he turned and spotted Neuto crawling towards the exit hatch, he barked orders for the prisoners to stop him. Without question, they all spun to Neuto and took off along the tier, screaming and hollering with rabid bloodlust.

  Neuto scrambled to his feet and staggered through the open hatch. Before the iris closed, he threw a look over his shoulder and locked eyes with a grinning Venass.

  Both of them knew they would meet again.

  Neuto turned and headed along a buckled corridor towards an elevator shaft. The thick smoke was suffocating. Sparks fizzed, and geysers of steam hissed from ruptured walls as he maneuvered around fallen debris and dead bodies. When he reached the elevator, he was presented with another security console. He ran his hand over it and the door swished open.

  When Neuto entered the bridge, he was greeted with more chaos. Ship personnel, all wearing different suits than the guards, hustled hard, working holographic consoles and read-outs. Anything to get a handle on the situation. Anything to try and restore some level of order and control.

  “Where’s Commander Sindar?” yelled Neuto over the proximity alarms.

  A nearby Deck Officer shot him a grim look and shook his head.

  Neuto huffed with disbelief. What remained of the ship was completely leaderless. Then, he broke into action and crossed the room, headed towards the pilot console. “We can’t contain the prisoners. We must make a system jump to Ulanea!”

  One of the pilot’s yelled over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the dizzying array of read-outs in front of him. Neuto could see he was struggling with the ship’s compromised navigational systems. “We can’t yet. I need to prepare our primary anti-matter source!”

  “You must get your remaining officers up to the Command Unit before we jump!” the second pilot barked.

  Neuto grunted with frustration. If only he could do that. “There’s not enough time!”

  Fswappp-BOOM!

  Suddenly, there was a massive belch of flame. The ceiling was peeled back like a Sardine tin, and dozens of reptilian warriors dropped down through the roof, blasting in all directions.

  When the pilot next to Neuto was incinerated into a cloud of blue ash, he raised the sights of his rifle to his eye-line and went to return fire on the nearest enemy.

  Wishful thinking.

  He was not granted the luxury of making a final stand, because the weapon had been slapped clean from his grip by the reptilian warrior who had come up from behind him. Neuto reacted instantly and spun his fist around to deliver a counter blow but was snatched by the neck and lifted off his feet. He flailed and kicked like a wild animal, struggling to draw the slightest inkling of breath. These reptilians were seriously powerful beings.

  “Where are you keeping him?” The reptilian spoke in the same dialect Neuto was accustomed to, but with a much harsher tone. His voice was trombone deep and downright menacing.

  Neuto hissed his rebuke through clenched teeth. “In a secured unit… which you will never be able to penetrate… without destroying the ship…”

  “Vuulgarbian scum,” the reptilian warrior snarled. He proceeded to tighten his grip around Neuto’s throat, slowly crushing it. Destroying the windpipes of their enemy’s was a favorite tactic among the Chodan.

  With his free arm, Neuto pulled a small dagger from a hidden sheath inside his belt and plunged it deep into the reptilian’s arm, piercing its protective suit. The being yelped with pain and tossed Neuto across the room with the force of a wrecking ball. Neuto crashed into a support beam and dropped to the ground like a glob of wet cement.

  Alerted to a strange, electronic droning, the other reptilian warriors all spun to the navigation console.

  A mortally wounded pilot was defiantly working the holographic interface.

  They wasted no time obliterating him
, but it was too late, he had already initiated something. The image of a wormhole suddenly blossomed to life above the damaged console, blinking red, with glyphs beginning to rapidly countdown.

  Then, they all peered outside the bridge’s primary observation port, only to see the space surrounding the Prison Ship was starting ripple and warp. The pilot had initiated an uncharted jump.

  Down below, Venass and the other rioting prisoners gave pause as the structures around them began to rumble and groan. Venass put his massive hand out to feel a rattling girder just above his head. Something was happening.

  Mad as hell, the reptilian warriors on the bridge had no choice but to abandon their attempted prison break. Venass was on his own now. An unspeakable crime they all knew they would pay dearly for. Abandoning a Chodan General, as decorated and feared as this one, was akin to suicide. And although they would leave their wounded with the doomed ship as a form of penance, these warriors would now spend the rest of their days evading the reach of their own kind. That is how it was written. That is how it had always been. However, a life of exile was still a much better deal than facing the wrath of Venass himself.

  The warrior in command of this mission reluctantly barked his orders, and the others began to retreat. The last reptilian to leave the bridge fired his weapon at the pilot console, but it did not stop the countdown.