The Planetsider Trilogy

by G J Ogden

  “What the hell is that?” said a digitized voice from just behind him. Page spun around to see another soldier, which his visor identified as Sergeant Nurem.

  “Damn it, Nurem, I nearly shot you!” Page yelled.

  “Sorry, Major,” said Nurem, “I moved up when I saw you engage… whatever that thing is.”

  “I think it’s what the briefing warned us about,” Page replied. His visor was now picking up at least seven more shapes moving in the space between them and the umbilical link to the Western Landing pad. “They’re tearing us to pieces, literally.” Page shone the torchlight on the dead soldier; Nurem cursed and looked away.

  “What’s our move?” said Nurem.

  Page almost laughed. It was a good question, and one he had no answer to; his training hadn’t covered a scenario even close to this one. “We advance along this center line,” said Page, indicating an invisible line through the center of the main deck with his hand, “and we go in weapons free and shoot anything that isn’t blue. How does that sound?”

  “Best plan I’ve heard all day, sir,” said Nurem, and then he slipped back into the darkness.

  Page focused on his breathing and continued to monitor the movement ahead. Maybe eight or nine contacts now, and still there was gunfire echoing down the narrow corridor ahead. It didn’t matter that there were three heavily-armed squads at the other end, the narrow umbilical nullified any advantage they had in terms of numbers. He checked and re-loaded his rifle, and steeled himself for the attack.

  Breathe, Major, just breathe…

  Page glanced behind him and saw the shimmering blue glow of his unit forming up, ready to face the creatures lurking in the darkness ahead. He took another long, deep breath, let it out slowly, and then stood up and signaled for the squad to attack.

  Gunfire erupted all around him and his motion sensor was overloaded with faint red lines, dancing left and right. He heard a scream to his side, but focused ahead, firing in short, controlled bursts. More screams to his side, and from ahead, but the line remained unbroken.

  How many of these things are there…?

  Page continued on, stepping over a smashed notice board, and was struck solidly to the chest and knocked to his back. The silhouette of a hideous, sinewy creature appeared above him and Page fired instinctively, but the momentum of the maddened creature carried it forward on top of him. Page frantically kicked backwards as the creature slashed at him with it hands and tried to tear the armor plating away. Warnings flashed up in Page’s visor as the stresses on the armor grew close to critical. That’s impossible! Page thought; no man possessed the strength to rip through his iridescent blue shell.

  Page threw the creature to the side and scrambled to his feet, firing wildly, and his attacker writhed and twisted as bullets finally penetrated its skin. Without waiting to make sure it was dead, Page retreated and dove behind cover.

  “Come on, come on!” he shouted, urging himself to do better. He released the clip and fumbled, hands shaking, to load another. Eventually, it slotted into place and Page re-loaded. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the line was now broken and scattered. There were bodies littered all around, both maddened and UEC. It was like their armor counted for almost nothing.

  Page hammered his fist into the side of his helmet, hoping to drum out the fear and doubt from his mind. He stood and moved forward again, stepping over the dead body of the assailant he had killed moments earlier, and forcing himself not to look at it. Still the creatures came, though from where he could not see. Page fired again, and again, but for each one he killed another took its place.

  A figure in blue armor came running towards Page, firing blindly to his rear with a pistol; it was Nurem. He fell, and out of the darkness, one of the maddened creatures climbed on top of him, holding a jagged metal bar in its mangled hand. Page fired two bursts and the creature fell. He pulled Nurem to his feet, but the Lieutenant flailed and struggled, not knowing whose hands were gripping him.

  “Nurem, it’s me!” shouted Page, his voice sounding clear and powerful through the digitizer. “It’s me, you’re okay!”

  Nurem recovered and knelt beside Page; he could hear him breathing heavily even through the visor. “They’re coming in through the service doors,” Nurem said, struggling for breath. “We take them out and more come. What do we do?!”

  Page could hear the terror in Nurem’s voice; they were all on the edge of losing it. They had to fall back and secure the facility. The other squads would have to cope on their own. “Re-group and fall back to the hangar pod,” Page ordered.

  “Yes, si… watch out!” Nurem yelled, and Page turned to see another assailant charging towards him, trampling on jagged rock and broken glass as if it they were merely eggshells. Page raised his rifle, but suddenly the creature spasmed and blood splattered across his visor. From out of the shadows behind, still unmasked, General Kurren stepped over the body, smoke seeping from the barrel of his rifle. Kurren fired two more volleys into the darkness; as if he was simply practicing at the firing range.

  “Hold your ground, Major,” Kurren said calmly, firing another volley. “The power will be on momentarily.”

  “General, we need to fall back!” retorted Page, but Kurren just glared at him.

  “Hold your ground!” he barked.

  Page cursed silently and scrambled back to Nurem. “Get back out there and tell them to hold!” he shouted.

  “Sir, we can’t hold…” Nurem began, but Page cut across.

  “Once the power is online, I’ll seal off all the other entrances. Just hold them back for a little longer!”

  Kurren continued to fire into the darkness as Nurem scampered away. The General was standing in the open, as if he were willing the things to attack him, and though Page considered his order to remain reckless, he couldn’t help but admire his composure.

  Then the emergency lighting flickered on, and smashed circuits began to crackle and spark all around him. Page scanned the walls for a systems access panel, saw one and ran toward it, stumbling over debris and the bodies of creatures that had already fallen. He slammed into the wall, using his armor to absorb the impact, but the shock still sent a jolt of pain through his body. He ripped the panel away, peered inside and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the console power up. Frantically, he pulled a jacking cable from his PVSM and plugged it in; several agonizing seconds passed as the PVSM worked to circumvent the security protocols, using override codes from the moon base’s ancient local archive. A schematic of the central deck appeared and, one by one, Page highlighted every door except the doors to the western landing pad and hangar pod seven, where his own shuttle had landed. He double-checked to make sure nothing had been missed and then hit ‘Enable’. Instantly, doors began to thud shut all around him.

  Page turned, slid his back down the wall and sat on the deck, mentally and physically exhausted. His heart was beating so fast he felt it might explode in his chest. He felt the thud of each door through the deck plating and then, finally, the last door dropped and the room was secured.

  Gunfire continued to pop all around him until soon the weapons fell silent and all that remained was the crackle of electrical fires, which were filling the room with an acrid smoke. Page saw Kurren, standing over the body of one of the maddened creatures, which was still clinging to life, or its version of life. Kurren looked down at the deformed figure and fired a single round into its head. Then, slowly, he moved onto the next, and the next, each time firing a single round into each creature’s head with the casual attitude of a gardener pulling up weeds. Page watched the General casually continue in this manner until there were no more left to shoot, and had the chilling realization that as much as he feared the terrible creatures on this planet, he feared Kurren almost as much.

  Chapter 17

  Page watched the toxicity indicator in his visor finally drop to low amber – the lowest they could expect while planetside – and then removed his helmet. Air hissed through t
he seals as it slipped away from the mounting in his suit’s collar. He placed the helmet on the table in front of him and breathed deeply, stretching his neck muscles, which were tense and aching from the battle, and then rested forward on the table, letting out a relieved sigh.

  The table that Page was leaning on was one of several that had been brought onto the central deck from the larger UEC ship that was secured on the western landing pad. In the two hours since the battle had ended, they had succeeded in locking down the space port, sealing external vents and hatches, including closing the external roof covering, and had enabled a number of vital systems. The most important of these was air filtration, which had pumped out the toxic dust and made the environment breathable without need for their helmets and oxygen systems. They had also cleared away the rubble that cluttered the central deck and turned the space port into a makeshift command post; a base of operations, for however long their stay on the decaying planet lasted. The addition of recognizable items from the UEC base, such as tables, chairs and also the much needed canteen station, made this unfamiliar place seem more hospitable. But even though Page had welcomed the opportunity to savor a hot drink, he was more relieved that the others had finally finished removing the bodies, throwing the carcasses over the perimeter wall of the western landing pad, which was suspended twenty meters above ground level on a pillar. Thirty eight enemies had been killed, and as each one had been discarded, the vile mountain of flesh on the dirt below the platform had grown taller.

  Page wasn’t sure that ‘killed’ was even the right word to use. He wondered if they had ever really been alive in the first place, at least by any definition of life that he understood. But it wasn’t just the genetically deformed that counted among the dead; in total, they had lost seven soldiers, including two from his own squad, reducing their strength to thirty, and this was before they had even left the space port. Page shuddered; a more chilling thought was that he knew it could have been far worse. If the power had not returned when it did, or at all, who knows how many more would have been lost.

  Page picked up the metal mug from the table and drank deeply, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid slipping down his throat.

  “You look like you could use something stronger, Major,” said Kurren from behind him.

  Page had not heard him approach and quickly placed the mug back down on the table and turned around, standing to attention. “Yes, sir. But this is good for now.”

  “At ease, Major,” said Kurren. “A contact like that would shake any man.”

  The absence of feeling in Kurren’s delivery made it hard for Page to judge his intent. Was he trying to offer reassurance, or test him to see if he would actually admit to being shaken? Given Kurren’s reputation, and how he had acted towards Page so far, he assumed the latter. “It was a difficult situation, sir,” he said, carefully, making a concerted effort to stand tall, “but I’m ready for duty.”

  Kurren studied Page for a few seconds, and then stepped up beside him and placed his rifle on the table. He rested his hands on it like a beloved family treasure. “We will lose more men, before this is over,” he said, staring down at the weapon, “and next time, it may not be these abominations that stand in our way, but rebels. Even our own citizens.” Kurren stood back and looked Page in the eyes. “Do you still have the stomach for this mission, Major?”

  The way he spoke the words sent chills down Page’s spine. The stomach for what? He remembered the look on Kurren’s face during the contact earlier, and the way he’d calmly killed the creatures like they were sport. There was a coldness about him that made Page deeply uneasy, and the longer he spent with Kurren, the more uneasy he felt.

  “I will get the mission done, sir,” said Page, choosing his words carefully.

  Kurren’s eyes narrowed, but Page held his gaze, knowing he must not look away. The General eventually grunted, a noise that Page recognized as a sort of half-hearted acknowledgment.

  “What is the status of the search?” Kurren asked, moving the focus back to the mission. “Have we located where Salus went, after she first landed here?”

  “We’ve been working on repairing the control console in pod seven,” said Page, grateful that the conversation was no longer about him. “From the fragments we’ve retrieved so far, it looks like a ground transport was programmed to travel to a location about thirty clicks away, but the program was never run. Still, it could be worth checking out.”

  Kurren grunted another acknowledgment.

  “There’s something else sir,” Page added. “We found blood on the deck plating back in pod seven; two different samples, in fact. We analyzed both and while one is not in our records, the other matches Commander Christopher Kurren.” Page waited, but the mention of his brother’s name had seemingly no effect on the General; he simply folded his arms and waited for Page to continue his update. “There was no sign of a body, though, so it’s possible Commander Kurren survived and…”

  “I’m not a child, Major, I do not need coddling,” Kurren interrupted, the irritation clear in his voice. “He knew the mission, he knew the risks. He either died here, or became one of the things we just killed. Either way, he is dead and of no importance to this mission.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Page, feeling like the temperature in the room had just dropped a couple of degrees.

  “Just find Salus,” Kurren added, but then as he turned to leave, Page’s PVSM sounded an alert. Kurren stopped and turned back. “What is it?”

  Page checked the display on his arm; he had become used to the visor interface and found returning to a manual interface to be sluggish and frustrating. “It’s a proximity warning,” he said, sounding surprised.

  Kurren suddenly became more alert and his right hand instinctively went to his side-arm. “Enemy ships?” he said, wondering if GPS had somehow managed to hide a fleet of combat vessels outside of the space station, in case of emergencies or to throw the UEC off guard, and were now coming to get revenge on him.

  “No, they’re drones,” said Page.

  Kurren relaxed again; his right hand slipped off the weapon and joined his left, pressed behind his back.

  “We managed to hook in to the space port’s sensor grid,” Page went on; he had been focusing on the PVSM display and had not noticed Kurren’s reaction. “They look like recon drones, probably launched by Comma… I mean Salus.”

  Kurren let this minor slip slide, unchallenged; he was more concerned with the probes.

  “We can’t allow them to have eyes in the sky,” said Kurren. “Take them out.”

  Page nodded and stepped across to the adjacent table, which was filled with an assortment of field equipment, from medical stations to portable scanning devices. He picked up a cylindrical holo emitter, about thirty centimeters long and twenty wide, and returned with it, placing it on the table. Then he picked up his helmet and placed it back over his head, though this time keeping the face mask open. Even without the tactical lenses built into the mask, the helmet still included optical transmitters that provided a virtual heads-up display, projected directly onto his retinas, which would make it much easier to control the sentry drones. Page enabled the holo and synchronized the feed so that Kurren could also watch the progress, since his own helmet was still conspicuous by its absence.

  Page accessed the systems of the UEC ship docked outside on the western landing pad and enabled two sentry drones. He set the initial command for both sentries to ‘Stand by’ and launched them, switching to the visual feed from the first drone, as it shot vertically upwards to a height of one hundred meters and then hovered. The second drone arrived seconds later and hovered at the same height a few meters away.

  “Target hostile drones,” Page said out loud, and both sentries responded, spinning sharply on their axis, scanning for the probes. A targeting reticule appeared in Page’s view, as seen from the cameras inside the first sentry. The display zoomed in showing a small probe, less than half the size of the heav
ily armed and armored military sentries, moving through the sky, just over a kilometer away. This was also replicated for Kurren’s benefit by the holo emitter on the table. The view from the second probe was shown in a smaller window, located to the lower right side of Page’s view. It had also detected a probe, though this one was considerably further away.

  “Sentry one, engage and destroy,” said Page. “Sentry two, approach and monitor.”

  Both sentries accelerated, and Page stuck with the primary feed from the first sentry, since it was closer to its target, and watched as it closed the distance between it and the probe in less time than it had taken Page to issue the verbal commands. Page and Kurren both watched as the sentry decelerated and fired two energy pulses, striking the probe within fractions of a second of each other. The probe immediately dropped out of the sky and the sentry followed its path down, recording the impact site.

  “Engage surveillance mode,” said Page, and the sentry disengaged its view of the fallen probe, climbed back to its standby height of one hundred meters and began an automated surveillance sweep in the vicinity of the space port.

  Next, using a deft movement of his eyes, Page switched to control of the second sentry, which was already ten kilometers away and at an altitude of one thousand meters. It was stationary, hovering ten meters away from the second unknown probe.

  “What are you doing up here?” Page muttered out loud, but the question was not directed at Kurren and Kurren did not answer. The remaining recon drone remained motionless, as if unaware of, or unperturbed by, the presence of a heavily armed sentry. Using a sequence of eye movements, Page commanded the sentry to crack the data feed of the probe, which proved to be a simple task for the sophisticated weapon.

  “What are you waiting for?” asked Kurren, wondering why Page had not already destroyed the probe.