The Last Space War: Part 2

Tucker ducked behind the desk in Dr. Martinez's office. Sweat dripped down his face. But not as fast as the blood leaked from his body.

His grip tight on the axe. His mind raced.

Waiting for Victor to make his move.

He saw a stack of binders. He slid over to them.

They were chock full of Dr. Martinez's notes. His notes were detailed and yet easy to understand. The marks of a true genius.

Then his eyes lifted.

Earth.

Hanging outside the window.

So blue. So bright.

So… distant.

Then the door slid open and Tucker ducked behind the desk.

Victor stepped inside and laughed.

"Oh wow!" His voice rang out sarcastically, "I wonder what you’re hiding behind now?"

His gun gleamed in the reflection on the window.

"That wooden desk won’t stop my bullets." He took another step. "Any last words?"

Tucker’s voice was calm. Steady.

"Yeah." He shifted his grip on the axe. "Don’t miss."

Something shot out from under the desk into the air. Victor’s gun bucked and he hit it dead on with three quick rounds.

Bullets ripped through it.

The object hit the desk. A black binder.

Full of holes.

Victor frowned.

"How pathetic." Victor sneered. "Was that really your plan?"

Tucker’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"You didn’t miss."

Then-

CCCCCRRRRAAAAAACCCCCKKK!

Victor’s smirk vanished.

His eyes widened.

The office window started to splinter from his gun shots.

Victor’s voice was barely a breath. "Shit."

Then it shattered!

A blast of air ripped through the room and everything flew toward the void.

Victor was lifted off his feet Torn from the ground.

His body hurtled toward the opening.

The desk started to move toward the wall from the depressurization.

Tucker sprang up from behind the desk and his axe swung through the air.

CHOP!

The blade tore through Victor’s waist, cutting him in half. Tucker grabbed the container by the strap.

Tucker grabbed onto the edge of the desk, trying to hold on and prevent him from being sucked out too. He held onto the container for dear life by the strap.

Blood burst into the vacuum and then froze almost instantly.

Victor’s upper half flailed as he still tried to hang on to the container, trying to stay inside.

His hands clawed at it, wild and desperate.

His mouth opened but there was no scream.

Then he slipped and vanished into the abyss.

The desk started to tilt up and tucker gasped.

The desk flew out the window, pushing Tucker out with it.

He snatched the edge of the window.

His fingers locked onto the jagged frame.

Pain seared through his arm.

His grip was slipping.

The container dangled.

Still connected to the strap in his hand.

The last piece of salvation.

It pulled.

Tried to drag him into space.

Tucker’s lungs burned. No air. No breath.

His vision blurred.

Then steel doors slid from the walls started closing.

Tucker gritted his teeth.

One last pull.

One last chance.

He yanked hard and landed inside. He tugged the container in quickly.

SLAM!

The doors slammed shut.

Everything dropped.

A burst of steam rushed oxygen into the room.

Tucker collapsed onto the floor.

His chest heaved.

His heart pounded.

His breath finally returned.

He could only lay there as his body tried to take in every bit of the now flowing oxygen.

He clutched the container.

Held it tight.

He looked up at the ceiling and gave a long, slow exhale.

***

Tucker limped inside the communications room.

Every step was heavy. Slow.

Blood had soaked through his sleeve. His bleeding was barely stopped by the frozen void of space, but they were starting to open up again.

His adrenaline keeping him alive.

His fingers hovered over the controls.

He pressed a series of buttons.

The screen flickered.

A moment passed.

Then General Henson appeared.

The same sharp uniform. Same stone face. Same cold eyes.

"This is General Henson of the United States."

"This is Tucker." Tucker said out of breath. His voice was hoarse. "The Mammoth Bunker is secure."

Henson leaned forward. "The materials have been acquired? Let me see them."

"I said it’s secure." His grip tightened on the console. Anger now taking over. "Everyone is dead. So unless you’re afraid of ghosts, you will come and get me. Or I’ll just call someone else to get me off this rock."

Henson took a long pause. He was shocked by Tucker’s sharp response.

Henson nodded. "...10-4." said Henson, "We’ll make contact with the other countries and send a convoy."

The screen went black.

Tucker stared at his own reflection.

His face was pale. Hollow.

His eyes—dead.

Was that really him he was looking at?

Later, after treating his injuries, Tucker walked past the dining room.

Something caught his eye.

He paused and then limped inside.

His eyes scanned the space.

The overturned tables. The empty chairs.

He looked at a small picture stuck to the refrigerator.

He plucked it off.

Held it between his fingers.

It was all of them.

Drinking. Laughing. Together.

Before everything.

Tucker’s throat tightened.

His fingers shook.

His eyes fell on the counter.

Akira’s lighter.

Tucker picked it up.

Flick!

The flame danced.

He held the picture over it.

The lighter shook in his hand. Tears started to form in the edges of his eyes.

He turned the lighter off.

Stuffed the picture in his suit and walked away.

Tucker stood on the moon's surface in space gear.

The container over his shoulder.

His helmet visor reflected the Earth.

A blue dot in the black.

A rumble shook the surface

Engines roared as a ship descended.

Kicking up dust. Rock.

The hatch opened.

A team of space marines stepped out.

One raised a hand in salute. Tucker saluted back.

They took the container and carried it inside.

Tucker followed.

***

Inside the cargo hold, Tucker stood by the window.

Watched the Mammoth Station shrink.

Smaller. Smaller.

Then—gone.

The moon was empty again.

A marine stepped up beside him.

Clapped him on the back. "When we get back, the General wants a proper debriefing." he said.

Tucker’s voice was quiet. Hollow. "Yeah."

The marine studied him. "You okay?"

Tucker’s gaze didn’t move. "Yeah."

The marine nodded. "Glad to hear it." The marine cleared his throat. "Whatever package we’re carrying… It's causing some heat. When we land, you might have to stay in here for a bit. We need time to clear out any incoming hostiles."

Tucker scoffed.

He stepped to the weapons rack.

His fingers closed around a rifle. Pulled a magazine and loaded it.

The marine raised an eyebrow. "You know how to use one of those?"

Tucker’s voice was low. "Yeah."

The ship burned through the dark.

Heading home.

The moon was now at peace.

Cold.

Silent.

Void of life once more.