Chapter 11

End Game The closing stages, when there are only a few pieces left.

The soft light that filtered down the passageway from the aliens' laboratory or whatever it was, was too faint to let him see much then he remembered that he had Michael's small torch still in his jeans pocket, and he switched it on. The battery was running low and the beam was more of yellow than white light, but it gave him some more focussed illumination, at least, sufficient to see with. He began to move carefully across the rough surface, searching for any signs of them.

And there she was, sprawled across the floor, gun in her hand, fresh blood on her head. There was a red-suited figure collapsed on the floor nearby. Its cracked faceplate leaking green fluid from a neat bullet hole in the transparent casing.

He could hardly move for the terror of what he would find when he reached her, but he forced his reluctant body to take one step and then another until he was at her side, kneeling, careless of the rough ground, the blood on her head and face soaking his jeans, his cuffs, his hands as he touched her.

He bent over her, his fingers caressing her face, desperately feeling for a sign of life, a breath, a movement of her lips, her eyes. He lifted her gun from the still hand. There was a sound from behind him and he spun round instantly, reflexes as sharp as ever, still holding her gun, pointing it in the direction of the noise. Then he saw the faint outline of the child, tucked into a corner, almost out of sight. In his distress at finding her injured, he had forgotten the boy.

'Michael! What happened?' Straker called over to him. 'What happened to Rachel?'

'They came up behind us,' the boy was almost sobbing with terror. 'They came up and she made me hide. Then they saw her and she tried to shoot them but she only got one of them and then the other hurt her.' he was openly crying now, tears running down his face. 'The other one, the one that hit her, he went back down the tunnel. I think he may have gone to get his friends.' Michael, still in the corner tried to shuffle towards Straker but he was to shaken to do more than move a couple of inches.

'Stay there Michael, just until I've seen to Rachel.' Straker didn't want a child to see her injuries if they were severe. He went over to where Michael was still sitting, propped up against the rough walls. Putting her gun down, he gave him a quick, firm hug of reassurance, made sure that the boy was unharmed, and then hurried back to her.

Straker bent over her again, his head on her chest, listening to her heart and the sound of her breathing. He closed his eyes with sheer relief when he heard a strong beat and deep even breaths. He checked her eyes, noting that she was responding to light. Thank God, he thought with relief.

And just at that moment, just as Straker was concentrating his whole mind, his whole being, on his partner, the second alien returned, stepping into the passageway with almost silent footsteps. It stopped as it saw Straker leaning over the unconscious woman and then moved swiftly and surely towards him, one arm holding its weapon outstretched and pointing at the kneeling man.

Something alerted him to the danger, but it was too late. Even as he turned his head and dived out of the way the alien fired and the beam of light caught him on his leg. It was enough to paralyse him and he fell against the wall, sliding down to lie crumpled on the floor, one hand still with enough sensation and mobility to reach out in vain for her.

The alien approached, its expression unseen, but Straker knew that it would doubtless be exultant at having captured him.

His last thought before he lost all feeling, as the alien bent down to drag him away, was his unspoken apology to Michael that he had not been able to save him after all.

Checkmate.