by S. E. Smith
A loud yell jolted Carlynn out of her horrified disbelief. Seth, their soils specialist, had launched himself toward the open hatch. Wenn snatched him by his mud-splattered uniform before he could reach the weaving gangway. They wrestled a few seconds then Seth relented with a strangled curse. “There is nothing we can do for them,” Wenn said. “We have to save the rest of us.”
Rendered mute by the horror of watching two teammates get cut down, Carlynn realized that was her cue. She turned back to the controls. Her heart kicking in her chest, blood howling in her ears, her senses hyper-focused, she pulled on her headset and pushed the mic to her lips. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Starling—”
With a tremendous thud, a mud monster slapped itself broadside against the fuselage, the open hatch, shaking the ship and splattering mud everywhere. Everything not tied down flew, including people. The screeching of metal came next as the gangway crumpled like a piece of cooking foil. Rain gusted through the closing hatch, spraying the side of her face.
“Get that goddamned hatch closed!” Seth yelled at Wenn. But before the exit had motored fully shut, a blunt appendage squeezed inside and blocked the hatch from closing.
The thick limb was smooth on top, bumpy underneath, slapping and sliding across the floor like a wet mop. Rubbery and viscous, like a giant slug, the skin dimpled where streams of bright green energy fired by their weapons hit it, wounds illuminated by the camera aimed by the photographer who somehow had the wherewithal to capture images while all this was going down. The stench of burning monster turned Carlynn’s stomach and made her eyes water.
“Carlynn— Get us the hell out of here,” Seth shouted at her as he fired at the intruder. Unspoken was the realization that he was the new mission commander, having been number two to Morgan.
She shoved the start levers forward. Nothing happened. A red light flashing in her face warned her she could not fire up the engines with an open hatch. She would first have to override the open-hatch warning and disable the alarm, nothing she had ever learned in flight school.
“We can’t fly like this,” Jenkins, the zoologist, argued. “We can’t pressurize.”
Dragging a monster hanging from an open hatch, no one wanted to vocalize.
“Not into space—uh, no,” Carlynn said. “But if we can get airborne and shake this thing loose, reposition someplace, land temporarily and get her buttoned up, we can get out of here.”
Everyone eyeballed her with desperate but skeptical hope. The whirling limb hooked around Jenkins’s leg, throwing him to the floor. “Shit!” He tried to grab hold of anything as he was dragged past.
She grasped for him. Frantic hands tangled. She caught one muddied arm, and he yanked her off the seat. She went down hard on her stomach. It knocked the wind from her. His hand slid down her forearm to her wrist. His eyes bulged. Help me. Someone else had her by the leg. Distantly she wondered if both she and Jenkins were headed out the hatch together. Then the monster jerked hard and she lost her grip. Jenkins’s terrified face disappeared outside into the dusk and rain.
“No!” The hatch motored shut and sealed. She sprawled there for a count of three, then pushed up on shaking arms. Wenn helped her to her feet. He bled from a cut on his forehead, his right arm held close to his body. Gulping in air, she squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, but it did not erase Jenkins’s disbelieving, panicked gaze on her as he was swept to his death. It was seared into her mind.
“It was impossible to stop it,” Wenn said, knowing where her thoughts were. He gripped her shoulders. “It was not your fault, Carlynn.”
“It wasn’t your fault…” For an instant Carlynn was back in bed with Lukas, her arms wrapped around him. He was in the throes of a nightmare, his skin wet, and burning hot…
“Carlynn. Hey. Come on. We need to get out of here.” Seth was at her side now, repeating Wenn’s assurances, trying to get her attention, to snap her out of her daze. She could tell he did not want her falling apart when she was the only qualified pilot aboard.
“We need to get out of here,” she repeated, almost robotically, and made her way back to her pilot station. Numbly, she reached for the start levers. Her hands were still muddy from Jenkins’s uniform. Don’t go there. Don’t. She had to hold it together. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Starling. Do you read? Do you read, Control?” The radio sounded dead. “We have encountered hostile life forms. I say again—hostile life forms.” She did not want anyone else coming here without knowing what they were up against. Like Lukas. Because she knew he would come.
But no one answered their transmissions. “I think those things damaged the transmitter. We’re not communicating with the orbital probe.” Which prevented them from communicating with anyone. She lifted a guard covering an illuminated button and depressed it with her thumb. Silent to them, the ELB would initiate an impossible-to-ignore screeching tone on all communication frequencies light years around, telling all that they were in need of urgent help.
A loud whoomph came from outside the hatch they had just closed. Whoomph. Whoomph.
“What the hell was that?” Tyrese, the photographer asked. But they all knew.
Someone was at the door.
Dread and gravity weighing on her, Carlynn slowly turned to look in the direction of the thumping. Whoomph. Whoomph. Then the hatch dented inward, ending all hope of departing the planet.
Seth, Wenn, and McCloskey aimed streams of plasma at the expanding sliver of daylight showing around the busted hatch. Whoomph. Whoomph. Whoomph. The Starling jolted with each impact up and down its length. The monsters were dead set on shaking them loose from the ship like clingers in the bottom of a can of beans.
She drew her weapon and joined the men firing at the hatch and at the thick wet limb prying it apart. Mud and ooze spilled through the widening gap. Then a fat tentacle pushed inside, whipping around and spraying mud everywhere.
Everyone scattered like startled birds. Wenn flattened against the sidewall as the limb narrowly missed him. Carlynn and Tyrese dove toward the galley. Seth and McCloskey scrambled after them. Wenn waited for the tentacle to sweep past then he followed.
They crowded into the galley. Whoomph. Whoomph. The noise, the stench, their sweat. Her pounding heart. No one said a word as they clustered together, listening to the collective roar of their breaths and the horrible squish-squash of the mud monster’s limb. It sounded like a giant wet towel slapping the inside of the ship.
There was room for only two of them to fire at a time. Carlynn’s hands trembled as she gripped her firearm, pointed down, waiting her turn. Did Lukas ever shake with nerves? Did combat Marines like him ever feel fear? She shook. She felt fear. Lukas…Lukas. She held the thought of him in her mind, in her heart, to be able to think, think, think. To keep her wits about her so she could get out of here alive.
Her death would destroy Lukas.
Whoomph. A muddy limp whacked against the cockpit window. Another firm hit and it cracked open.
God, Lukas. Don’t come here.
But she knew he would. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more, the idea of him getting injured or killed by one of these monsters, or finding her body.
Her chest squeezed. It’s not your fault. Whatever happens, I don’t blame you. I don’t.
Whoomph. Whoomph. Her choking fear shifted to anger. This was not the way it was supposed to end. Not with everything unfinished. Not with me and you unfinished, Lukas.
“No! No! No!” She jammed her weapon through a gap between the men and unloaded into the creature. Gritting her teeth, her mucky hair stuck to her cheeks, she spilled her fury and a hellish amount of plasma into that alien thing.
Seth’s hand landed on her shoulder. She stepped back, and he took her place. She collapsed against the galley wall. It was growing lighter outside, she noted distantly. The rain was slowing. Then, with one last juicy swipe, the mud monster withdrew its pockmarked limb.
They were all alone. The rumbling had subside
d. It was no longer raining.
Stealthily, she and the men picked their way past debris—broken equipment, shattered glass, twisted metal—and returned to the bow of the ship. Fetid air flowed in through broken windows. “There they go,” McCloskey said hoarsely. They paused to watch the monsters settle back into the muddy ground, flattening to camouflage themselves the way the starfish they resembled used sand to disappear in tidal pools.
Sunlight pierced the clouds and once more reached the savannah. But more dark clouds billowed in all quadrants. “How long until the next wave of precipitation, Wenn?” Seth asked.
“Many hours.”
“How many? Be precise.”
Wenn’s glance shifted to his shattered scopes and useless computer. “Three to five. Or so. That is the best I can do.”
“That’s good enough. We’re getting out. We’re evacuating.” Seth’s green eyes were vivid in his muddied face. “Everyone, grab gear. Food, water, radios, whatever you can find that’s not busted.”
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Tyrese said, speaking up for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Jesus.”
“You want to stay here, Tyrese?” Seth said as he unlocked the locker with their survival gear. “Be my guest. You can welcome back our slimy, five-fingered friends after they wake from their nap. Take a few more pictures. Maybe a selfie or two. Me? Those hills over yonder are looking pretty nice right now.”
“The creatures revive in the rain,” Carlynn said, making eye contact with the frightened photographer. “We’re going to make a run for it before it rains again.” The hills looked terribly far away. Lukas, I’m scared. How do you do it? How do you feel brave in situations like this? She swallowed against a dry throat and used her pilot’s command voice to reassure Tyrese. “It’s okay. Just stick close to me.”
“How do we know they won’t attack when we run past them?” Tyrese asked.
“We don’t,” she said.
“Let’s go! Move, move!” Seth gave them precious few seconds to collect what gear they could carry. They needed to use the dry period between storms to get to a safe place. If there were any safe places on Vuushon.
He unfurled an emergency rope ladder to descend from the Starling to the ground. The gangway lay crumpled below. They climbed down one by one.
The area around the ship looked like a battlefield in a mud war. Rounded humps stuck out here and there. The mud monsters. One shifted position. They froze. It shifted again then settled down like a drowsy bat in its cave easing into a more comfortable position.
Long seconds ticked by. “I think it went back to sleep,” Carlynn whispered. She took a cautious step backward, her weapon squeezed firmly in her hand. Something squished under her boot. She looked down, puzzled by the crimson striations in the rapidly drying mud, and then the piece of fabric fluttering where it stuck out of a small swell in the ground. Fabric matching the pale blue color of a scientist’s uniform.
She kept turning, slowly, taking in all in, the stained mud, and finally it came to her. All around her was blood. A lot of blood. A sea of bright red blood.
“Carlynn. Carlynn!”
But Wenn’s shouts were lost in the roaring in her ears.
Five
“Sit,” Bang-Bang’s Lukas said.
Sharing his Tall One’s urgency to go find their Carlynn, he shifted restlessly in a “sit” position as his Lukas collected objects from a room with many other similar objects. Other Tall Ones did the same. But Bang-Bang had eyes only for his Lukas. His Tall One had wounds, old wounds, that were on the inside, where Bang-Bang was not able to lick them. But he could protect his Lukas, and look out for him, which he did every waking moment of every day since they first found each other.
Losing their Carlynn was the worst wound of all. His Lukas had been so miserable without her here. Even when he played with Bang-Bang, his eyes were unhappy. Yet, now that the chance to retrieve their Carlynn had come, his Lukas acted afraid, hiding it from the other Tall Ones, but not Bang-Bang. Bang-Bang knew when Lukas’s wounds pained him, when he would close his eyes and hold his head, going away not in body but in spirit, inside him, to a place Bang-Bang could not follow. All Bang-Bang could do during those times was to stay close, making sure his Lukas felt him there.
Like now. Bang-Bang broke the command and went to his Lukas, licking his hand and pressing himself against his leg as his Tall One pulled a fire-stick down from the wall.
“Goddamn it, Bang-Bang. What is with you? I told you to stay.”
I know you think I am a bad boy, a bad dog, Bang-Bang told him with a pointed stare. He placed his paw in his Tall One’s hand. But know that I am with you. That I will not leave you.
His Lukas had told him the same thing with his actions the night he carried him to this place, his new den. Next door to where they stood now was the “K-9 center”, where his sleeping crate was, his friends the Others who had also found their forever homes, and where his Lukas came for him every morning. It was where they stayed together all through that first long and sometimes frightening first night. Where his Lukas had washed him, and fed him, and tenderly held him so that he would not be afraid. It was where his new life began. Now it was his turn to be with Lukas, so his Lukas could once more be with their Carlynn. From the moment Bang-Bang first smelled Carlynn, listened to her happy voice, felt the kindness in her hands, saw her appreciation for his Lukas, Bang-Bang knew they needed her to be complete. He had risked being a bad boy/bad dog to make sure Lukas saw it, too. Risked his Tall One’s displeasure to make sure he did not let their Carlynn get away, because sometimes his Lukas did not see what he should see. But when his Lukas discovered their Carlynn, he, too, knew she was the one. From that moment forward, their real happiness began. Then Bang-Bang’s Tall Ones lost each other.
We will find our Carlynn, Bang-Bang assured him.
His Lukas rubbed him on the neck, his eyes kind but still worried. Still hurting on the inside. “It’s okay, boy. Just be sure to listen when we’re on Vuushon. This is real. Your first Marine mission. Ready? Let’s go.”
Lukas watched Bang-Bang race away to the exit, where the dog waited, his tail wagging low and with clear impatience as he waited for him to catch up. The whole paw in the hand thing—it was intentional, the dog’s gaze penetrating, as if he could see everything inside him. Like Carlynn could.
Lukas shouldered his ruck and his weapon, and headed out. Portholes lined the tube where the Marines walked in brisk, efficient silence. Outside the dwarf planet Barésh whirled in and out of view with the rotation of the space station. Bright lights of the colony then stars, then bright lights again. He reminded himself not to look. Within the hour they sped away from Bezos Station on the ESF assault troopship Maelstrom, nearing the first of a sequence of worm-hole jumps to reach Vuushon. Horizontal troop seats allowed Bang-Bang to slump crosswise with his head in Lukas’s lap. Lukas hated jumps. Whether they were quick worm bubbles or longer worm holes, they were all the same. Bad.
FTL, faster than light, speed travel didn’t affect everyone the same way. Most had no symptoms, like Carlynn. But Lukas had no such luck. The jumps made him nauseated as hell. His head would squeeze and then his stomach followed suit. Only meds kept him from losing his lunch.
He never liked flying anyway.
“We can get hitched here on Bezos if you’d rather not fly anywhere,” Carlynn had offered playfully, knowing how much he dreaded the journey back to Earth. “Colonel Duarte would love it. I’ll sell it to my family as a destination wedding.”
“That’s a negative. We’re getting married at your parents’ house, like we planned,” he had insisted, firmly. “On the beach. Long Island here we come.”
Now Lukas hoped there was a wedding. They had not talked about it in a while. Carlynn, I deserve an ass-kicking.
“Check that those seat harnesses are fastened nice and tight,” the pilot alerted everyone over the comm. Rornn B’Elenne, who was now married to Carlynn’s best friend T
rysh, had volunteered for the mission. He was an outstanding fighter pilot and a genuine Vash prince, but on Bezos, you forgot that he was royalty and one of the richest men in the galaxy. He acted no different than anyone else. “FTL entry imminent.”
A jump. One of five. Lukas squinted outside at the expanse of cold, crisp space dusted with trillions of stars. Some would say it was a breathtaking sight. Him? He dreaded seeing the stars elongate when the ship jumped to FTL speed. Yet, most of the Marines had long since settled in to read, nap, or pass the time playing cards on a table set between their seats like it was nothing. His company commander, Captain Lindscomb, alternated between working on paperwork and studying maps of Vuushon that Lukas had already committed to memory, knowing he would feel like crap once they started jumping.
“You having fun yet, L.T.?”
Lukas grunted at Sergeant Jones. “Yeah. A laugh a minute.” Then the ship vibrated, and they were in the wormhole. His brain felt like a rubber band stretching. The stars transformed into filaments of light.
“Like fairy floss,” Carlynn would tell him, but he never found the description funny or reassuring. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the ride, his thoughts on the woman he loved.
The message he sent her last night, mere hours ago, came back to haunt him. It probably never made it to her. He tipped his head back against the meager padding on the troop seat, his fingers buried in Bang-Bang’s fur, his gut pulling taut like the stars did outside.
Every night it was the same—he would sit at his workstation in his quarters to write her a note. If he veered at all from that routine, if he poured one scotch too many, if he puttered too long with administrative paperwork, the next thing he knew, Bang-Bang would be sitting by his thigh, his ears at full attention as he stared at Lukas.