//------------------------------//
// Chapter Six: Numbered 
// Story: Unknown 
// by Divide 
//------------------------------//

Unknown

Chapter Six: Numbered




"Six..." 

Catherine's face scrunched up like she tasted something sour. "I guess I could... call you that." She exhaled softly and made eye-contact with me. I didn't look away. "Thank you for saving me, Six."

I remained silent. Catherine's mental faculties were stronger than I anticipated, but would she believe me if I explained that aliens had saved her?

Deciding to take a gamble, I told her the truth.

"I had help. I found you, but I didn't save you."

"Then who did?" she asked, her eyes suddenly going wide. "Are there others who survived?"

I shook my head. "No. At least, I don't think so. Besides you, every person I've seen has been a corpse."

Catherine shivered. I doubted it was from the cold. "Then who?" she repeated.

"Not who—what." I took a deep breath. "The... inhabitants dressed your wound and gave you medicine. I don't know what they are. They look like aliens to me." I watched her eyes narrow, and I could feel her suspicion of me grow, almost as if it was a palpable thing. 

"I don't believe you. You're lying. I don't know why, but you're lying. You have to be. There's no such thing as aliens: everyone knows that. Even someone like you."

The words stung, but they weren't unexpected. I knew it sounded preposterous: a Juggernaut citing aliens as the source of her well-being was a hard pill to swallow. I would've probably said the same thing, had our positions been reversed. Still, I spoke the truth, but that was meaningless if I couldn't convince Catherine.

An idea popped into my head. What better way to convince her than to show her first hand?

"I can prove it."

She thought about it for a short while before nodding. "Okay. At the very least, I owe you a chance to explain. What did you have in mind, Six?"

I answered her question with a question. "Can you walk?"

"I—I'm not sure. Let me try."

Using my arm as a brace, Catherine attempted to pull herself to her feet. For a moment, it appeared that she was successful; although unsteady on wobbling legs, she was standing. The moment she let go of me, however, her legs collapsed and she fell with a surprised yelp. I only barely managed to grab her.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Catherine said, "I guess that's a no—hey! What are you doing?!"

I picked her up as gently as I could and transferred her into my outstretched arms, grey makeshift blanket and all. I figured her question was rhetorical, but I answered anyway. "Carrying you."

"I didn't notice that," she replied sarcastically from the crook of my right elbow. Her legs from the knee down hung over my left arm. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to take a tour," I replied, and began walking. Catherine didn't respond. Thinking of my passenger, I asked, "Are you comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be while being carried." She shifted a small amount. "Actually, if you moved your right arm a little—"

I shifted my arm slightly.

"That's better," she sighed. "Thank you." Catherine's weight was almost negligible, but I wasn't sure whether that spoke of my strength or her frailness. She looked like a child, bundled up as she was. My arms acting as a cradle only heightened the illusion.

As we approached the kitchen, I asked, "Are you hungry?" I was starting to feel peckish myself.

I heard a rumble emanate from Catherine's midsection. "I was," she began, "but I'm not anymore." I followed her line of sight.

She was looking at the impaled chef, the one that was missing half his body due to the oversized, dog-like predator. I didn't blame her for losing her appetite, and made sure to quickly put the bloody corpse behind us.

"If it makes you feel any better, the creature that... did that... is dead."

Catherine twisted her head to look at me. "Creature? As in, you don't know?"

I shook my head.

She had a faraway look in her eye. "Where are we?" she muttered.

"I don't know. I don't think it's Earth." I could see the gears start to turn in her head.

When I turned down the hallway that would take me through the Arming Room and into the Hangar, one of the many lights overhead flickered and faded away. Curious, I asked, "How are these still functioning?"

"The back-up generator. It must still be intact even after the crash."

"How long until it runs out of power?"

Catherine thought for a moment before answering. "If the only things being powered are the lights, then it should run for a couple weeks, minimum. If we're lucky—and the more I look around, the more I'm sure that we are very lucky—then it might last a month, maybe two."

"Good to know." That meant we still had time. I didn't want to wake up one night shrouded in darkness, and have no means of finding my way around.

Turning to the side so as to not bash Catherine's head against the steel frame, I entered the Arming Room, which elicited a gasp from the woman in my arms.

"There are a lot of weapons here, Six," she commented. "I knew we had a lot, but I didn't know we had this many."

"You didn't?"

"No, I didn't," she replied. "I haven't been on this side of the ship before."

I stopped momentarily to count how many sets of armour were left, something I had neglected to do until now. There were only five, not including my own. That meant four suits were out there, somewhere, possibly with alive Juggernauts still inside. Chances were that my kin were already dead, but after glancing at Catherine, I felt a small amount of hope rekindle in my chest.

If we could beat the odds, then so could they.

From my elbow, Catherine murmured, "Four missing. Where could they have gone to?"

The ghost of a smile appeared on my lips in direct relation to her astuteness. "I was wondering the same thing." Realizing that dawdling wouldn't do us any good, I continued walking. Thinking about her previous comment, I asked, "Why haven't you been on this side of the ship?"

"Orders."

"Orders?"

Catherine cleared her throat and spoke in a drab, monotone, almost robotic voice. "'Unless a class-five emergency should occur, all crew members not actively involved in combat or overseeing heavy combat personnel are to refrain from using the port-side passageways.'" She coughed. In her normal voice, she said, "Seeing as how I worked in Navigation and not with you Juggernauts..."

I nodded, understanding. One thing bothered me, however.

"Is that what they called us? 'Heavy combat personnel?'"

Catherine shifted to look at me. I saw the lights reflected in her eyes. "Yeah. That was the politically correct term for—"

She froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide, her mouth partially parted. Before I could ask what was wrong, she violently sneezed several times in quick succession.

"—Juggernauts," she finished, blinking back tears. "Sorry about that. I didn't startle you, did I?"

"No."

Before long, I had crossed the threshold of the Hangar. I took a quick look around. Night had fallen, but besides that, everything else was the same, and there didn't seem to be any surprises waiting for us.

"Uh.. Six?"

I turned my attention to Catherine.

"I want to try walking again. Can you, uh, put me down, please?"

"Sure."

I carefully tilted Catherine so her feet made contact with the cold, steel floor. Using me once again for support, she wobbled a bit, but regained her equilibrium before I needed to intervene. After adjusting the fabric so it functioned as some sort of shawl, she let go of me and started inching forward on her own. She looked like a child playing dress-up.

"Watch your step," I cautioned.

Catherine looked down at her feet, which were only protected by the thin layer of her one-piece jumpsuit and would be easily shredded by the sharp debris strewn about. She smiled and replied, "I'll be careful."

While Catherine was occupied with her shuffling, I approached the old hangar entrance. The wall I built out of broken helicopters and metal plating was still standing, although several things had shifted since I last visited. I tested the stability by pulling on a protruding support beam. The barrier groaned and shifted a millimetre or two, but did not collapse. Now certain that I wouldn't be crushed if I brushed against the wrong portion, I peered through what used to be a helicopter's windshield.

There was a flickering light outside, and the silhouettes of several horse aliens were sitting around it, with the exception of one, which appeared to be sleeping. After noticing some oddly proportioned bulges on some of them, I squinted and tried to get a better look. As my eyes adjusted, the bulges soon formed into armour plating, plumed helmets, and spears, while the flickering light became a fire. 

Interesting. Since the aliens were civilized to the point that they could perform first aid, I supposed that it only made sense for them to have some sort of military. But what were they doing, camped out in front of the ship? Were they trying to keep us in, or were they trying to keep other members of their race out?

"I knew the crash was bad, but I didn't know it was this bad. It doesn't look like anything is still in one piece," Catherine said. "Wait... what's that?"

I turned and looked where she was pointing. In the middle of an area cleared of large detritus laid the body of the car-sized predator—only it had changed. "That," I began as I regrouped with Catherine, "is the creature that I told you about earlier. The one I killed."

"Did you pour sulphuric acid on it?"

I shook my head, although it certainly looked like I did. It was still lying in a pool of its own brown, viscous blood, but the corpse was in the process of dissolving, which gave it a half-melted appearance. I nudged the outside edge of the disintegrating creature with my boot, and was rewarded with a squelching noise.

"...Six?"

"Yes?"

"I believe you." Catherine was looking at the corpse. She gulped, then looked up at me. She didn't need to say anything else.

I could tell that she believed me now—I could see it in her eyes. "There are some outside," I said. "The same kind that saved you."

"I—I'd like to see them."

"Follow me."

I returned to the barrier with Catherine following in my footsteps. Her walking had significantly improved: I could only assume her impediment was from her muscles being unused. She was too short to look through the provisional window, so I cupped my hands together and gave her a boost.

A stunned silence followed.

"Those are—?"

"Yes," I answered, knowing what she was asking.

"They kind of look like... ponies. Alien ponies."

"What are ponies?"

"Smaller horses, essentially." Catherine stepped down while shaking her head. "I can't believe it. I do believe it, it's just..."

"A shock?"

Catherine nodded. "Yeah. A shock." She gestured around her with palms facing upward. "So this is it, then? Just the t-two of us, stranded on an alien world in a c-crashed ship?"

I shrugged. "There might be other survivors. For all we know, they might've already made contact with the aliens."

"Maybe," she sighed. "M-Maybe." She was shivering. The fabric, while large and tough, wasn't very thick.

"Do you have any other clothes?"

Catherine jerkily nodded. "Y-Yeah. Back in the living qu-quarters." She didn't sound overly enthusiastic about returning to where I found her. I didn't blame her.

"Then that's where we're going. Let's go."