Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges

by Alan Black

  “Jay, advance and destroy.”

  “Yes, Mama. Let’s go, girls”

  “Peebee, let’s see if we can find their kitchens.” Finding the kitchens quickly might save any sentient species stored there. Stone hoped there weren’t any humans on this base. He was certain there had been, but he was sick at heart at the misery he’d already seen.

  Before leaving the hangar, he glanced at the bulkhead and spotted what looked like a skiff or floater charging port. He wondered how an alien species built a ship and a base with components that so closely resembled human military or civilian ships. He dismissed the thought. Everyone knew Hyrocanians were good at stealing tech.

  Slapping the charge on the bulkhead, he twisted the directional dial, and hit the button. He then moved quickly into the corridor, the last of his team to leave the hangar.

  Five seconds later an explosion washed across the hangar bay. Skiffs and floaters were thrown about from the force of the blast. Secondary explosions set off a long series of blasts.

  Without commands, Tee and Bea moved down the charred and blackened corridor in the opposite direction Jay and her daughters had taken, sweeping their weapons before them. Stone was pleased. The marines had trained his drascos well. They weren’t just mascots or working canines, but full-fledged combatants.

  “Here,” Tee said. Her muted pink armor didn’t twinkle in the overhead lighting, but the light color was at definite odds with the angry glare in her eyes. She held up a clenched fist, pointing at a closed hatch.

  Though Stone’s faceplate was down and locked in place, he could smell the odor of rancid grease mixed with the fragrance of roses dipped in maple syrup. A large number of Hyrocanians were on the other side of the hatch.

  Before he could more forward, Ell pushed Stone aside.

  “Screw this,” Ell shouted. She hit the hatch with her full bulk. The hatch buckled as the hinges gave way. Ell rolled back out of the hatchway rather than race into the cabin. The muted magenta flames on her armor raged against the black background.

  Peebee stepped between Stone and the hatch as Tee and Bea tossed grenades into the cabin. They each threw two and ducked back into the corridor. Four quick muffled whumps vibrated through the deck.

  Stone was sure his suit would have protected him, but he patted Peebee in thanks anyway. He realized she couldn’t help herself. Protecting him — even if he didn’t need it — was part of her nature.

  Bea wonked in excitement and raced into the cabin followed closely by Tee and Ell. Peebee bolted after them. Stone put a foot on the far bulkhead and used his knees to propel him into the cabin. His weapons were ready, but he had to be mindful of friendly fire. He bounced into the cabin in a long flat arc.

  The drascos had holstered their weapons. The cabin wasn’t small. Spread out before him was a wide bay. Scattered around were bunks and boxes of personal goods. There weren’t any neat orderly rows like a human barracks, but a hodgepodge of mismatched furniture apparently dropped wherever there was an open space.

  The walls of the bay were lined with Hyrocanian combat suits. Some suits lay in piles on the deck, some hung haphazardly on hooks, and a few were mounted into charging ports on the bulkhead. Dozens of Hyrocanians were scrambling to get to and into their suits.

  Weapons forgotten, the drasco red team moved into the Hyrocanians with abandon. Tee grabbed a pair of Hyrocanians. Without looking, she tossed one over her shoulder to Ell. The hard talons on drasco fingers could easily crush rock. Ell shredded the Hyrocanian before it hit the ground at her feet. Tee squeezed the neck of the other alien until its head popped loose. The two moved to the right, racing along the right bulkhead catching Hyrocanians clustering near their suits.

  Peebee and Bea raced along the left bulkhead.

  A Hyrocanian leapt at Bea with a sharp kitchen knife in each of its four hands. She grabbed it, casually throwing it across the bay into a knot of aliens. It crashed into the others with a bone breaking crunch.

  Peebee’s her tail shot over her head. The black armor cap covering her bone tip impaled a Hyrocanian who had managed to climb into its combat suit, but hadn’t managed to seal up yet. She shook the four-armed freak free while stomping a pair of Hyrocanians trying to sort through their suits. The suits were little more than piles of metal on the deck.

  Stone walked down the middle of the bay. His drascos were like scythes slashing through tall grass. Hyrocanians were cut down, stomped flat, and pulled into pieces like wheat for the harvest.

  Shorty’s voice called out over his comms. “Command center is — wait —” Through his armor, Stone felt a distant vibration. The piglet continued. “— gone.”

  Stone wanted to check on Allie. The marine assault should have started the minute he and his team entered the hangar bay. He wanted to check, but didn’t. The proper contact and reporting point was CDR Butcher on the Rusty Hinges. Stone didn’t have any valid reason to check beyond his concern over his girlfriend’s well being. Unable to stop himself, he tapped open his dataport. “Base assault progressing. Command Center destroyed.”

  “Roger that, Ensign.”

  “Um, any progress reports from other teams?”

  “We’re busy here, Ensign. Keep your focus on your task.” The voice wasn’t Butcher’s, but the words were. It was exactly what his grandfather would’ve said.

  He wanted to know more, to get an update, but everyone had their hands full.

  Pointing a finger at a pair of scrambling Hyrocanians, he squeezed. Both creatures disappeared in a blossoming mist. Another alien ran away from Bea. It fell at his feet. Not slowing down he stepped on its chest, crushing it flat.

  A cluster of Hyrocanians reached the far wall. The fattest creature among them was almost sealed in its suit, shouting at the others around it. Stone’s suit could translate the creature’s words, but he didn’t care. He shot it, feeling a release of anger at the enemy and his frustration at not knowing about Allie following the bullet speeding across the short distance. The bullet penetrated the suit before exploding. The suit remained standing. A fountain of body parts spouted toward the ceiling.

  Stone sprayed the remaining Hyrocanians with soft bullets. Soft meaning they would go through soft tissue, but not ricochet off or damage a bulkhead.

  Bea, in a relatively clear spot, pulled her weapon from its holster. She held the same type of anti-aircraft gun Charlotte carried. The weapon was a heavy artillery piece normally mounted on a tripod and humped into place by a pair of marines. She squeezed the trigger and chuffed a dozen rounds into a knot of Hyrocanians trying to squeeze through a rear hatch in a panic.

  A Hyrocanian leapt at Peebee. Rather than fire her weapon, Bea intercepted the leaping alien by jamming the barrel of her gun through its open mouth and shoving hard enough it came out the back side. The spray of blood and brains slid off her chest plate.

  Jay’s voice said over the comms, “Mama? Anne is hurt. She’s injured bad. We found their storerooms. Lots of creatures here, but no humans, no us, and no piglets, so far.”

  Stone said, “Shorty?”

  “Enemy weapons control is now non-functional, Boss. Rigging charges on the weapons stores.”

  “Jay, stay put with your daughters. We’ll get Anne out of there and get her some help as soon as we can. Are you, Charlotte, and Emily all right?”

  “Emily got knocked around a bit, but she says she is still ready to fight.”

  “Shorty, call in the shuttle for pick up. We won’t blow this place until we’re long gone.”

  “Yes, Boss. Request permission to search and destroy.”

  “Permission granted.” Stone knew the old pirate really wanted to start looting. He didn’t care if they stripped out everything they thought was of value. To the victor go the spoils. The empire’s military did not condone pillaging, but the piglets were at best allies, not navy or marines.

  “Jay, do you have a shuttle hatch nearby?”

  “Right here, Mama.”

  Stone wonde
red about that. The usual shoddy Hyrocanian design would’ve put a warehouse or shuttle hatch so far away from their storage area they would be completely useless for loading and unloading. The logic of putting a hatch close by for easy offloading of cargo seemed to elude the aliens. It made him think this base might not be a Hyrocanian design although it was clearly built for their use.

  Stone popped his helmet off, letting it fall back on its hinges hanging down his back. He took a deep breath. The air smelled foul, like trapped Hyrocanian farts, but being inside his suit for days on end made the air inside stale. Something about breathing good station air inside a base with a solid ceiling overhead was comforting. Opening up wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but he’d been in the can for so long he almost felt like a tin of small, early June peas.

  An unsuited Hyrocanian leapt from under a bunk, vaulting up with a screech. The knife in its hand sliced across Stone’s forehead. Grabbing the alien with a gauntleted hand, Stone wrenched the knife from its hand. Cutting deep through layers of fat, he gutted it, and dropped the body to the deck.

  Unbuttoning had been foolish. He knew that in hindsight, but he would’ve gone crazy if he’d had to stay confined up a moment longer. Though the drascos had the room almost clear that didn’t mean it was safe. Almost is not the same as completely. He tried to feel the cut across his forehead, but as sensitive as the tips of his gauntlets were, they weren’t like human fingertips. Still, they didn’t come away bloody, not with human blood anyway.

  He could put his helmet back on and let the suit evaluate the damage, but he couldn’t bear the thought of sealing up again. Instead he popped a vis-aid bubble open and pointed it at his forehead. A small scratch was already closing up, knitting quickly thanks to the military nanites in his bloodstream doing their job. The edges and ends of the cut were already disappearing. He’d been saved from a serious injury by his thickened skin.

  “Jay, activate your locator.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Standing in the middle of the barracks bay, he pulled up a display on his dataport. Ignoring the carnage going on around him, he began mapping the base, tagging the drasco blue team’s location and noting the warehouse hatch for their shuttle pilot.

  “Shorty, please ask your teams to begin sending location reports and movement history files to me.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  The base map hanging in the air in front of him began to fill with detail after detail. The weapons control room was three decks up from their entry point. He wondered how the piglets had located it so fast and disabled it so rapidly. If they survived, he would enjoy reviewing their video files. He smiled. He was sure Shorty’s past experience as a pirate had been useful during their attack.

  Almost without thinking, Stone ducked as half a Hyrocanian sailed by.

  Tee giggled, “Sorry, Mama.”

  Stone pointed an accusing finger at Peebee’s daughter. “Watch it, girl.” He smiled as Tee pretended to look contrite, a look that barely translated from drasco to human.

  Stone returned to his map. The diagram was filling in rapidly. Certain corridors and bays were tinted green, indicating they had been cleared. Unknown areas were marked in red, but as Shorty’s teams moved from one bay to the next, the areas quickly shifted from red to green.

  “Keep it slow and safe, Shorty.”

  “We’re still good, Boss. We’ve got a few of my people down, but less than we expected at this point.”

  Stone grinned. He hadn’t really expected anyone to be alive at this point. To save Allie, he’d been willing to sacrifice his whole team, blowing the base to dust if that was what it took.

  “Jay’s location is marked on the map.” All the drascos and Stone were marked in blue. Shorty had demanded that his people be marked in yellow. “Get your wounded to her location for transfer to the shuttle as soon as it arrives.”

  Neither of them spoke about what to do with the piglet dead, although Shorty had shrugged about losing piglets when discussing the plans. Stone had avoided the subject of dead drascos with Jay and Peebee, only discussing the changes to the living.

  Peebee and her daughters clustered around him. The younger drascos were giggling and shoving each other in excitement. The bay was clear.

  Stone pointed at the map. The deck below showed a bay exactly the size and configuration of the one they were standing in. “Peebee, this may be another barracks.”

  Peebee nodded. Her talons scrapped along the deck until they caught on the edge of a plate. She dug in and pulled. Bea grabbed the edge of the plate and yanked it away.

  Stone looked into the hole. The ceiling below them wasn’t anything more than a thin sheet of plasticrete. Ell and Tee scorpioned their tale spikes into the hole. Twisting, they wrenched it free, pulling it back and throwing it over their heads.

  Peebee laughed, “I like this way of going from deck to deck. It’s much faster than finding ladders and going through hatches.”

  Stone looked into the hole. Staring back at him was a gathering cluster of suited Hyrocanians. This group had enough time to respond to the alarms by getting suited and organized, although a few of their group were still trying desperately to get their suits clamped shut around fat bellies.

  The alarms shut off. Shorty’s team must have found the control.

  The Hyrocanians below raised their muzzles, but not before Ell, Bea and Tee brought their weapons to bear. The drascos quick reflexes were faster than the lazy and slow aliens. Stone and Peebee stepped back as the three younger drascos began a slow shuffle, moving in a circle around the hole, each firing their preferred weapon down the hole at every angle they could manage without dropping down the hole.

  Flame and debris blasted back up the hole as ammunition usually used against armor, aircraft, and massed troops exploded, blew up, and ricocheted around the bay below them. Ell released the trigger of her mini-gun and tossed a few grenades down the hole. They hit the deck below with enough force that they bounced into the far recesses of the bay before exploding.

  Waving her daughters back, Peebee flattened her body to the deck and stuck her long neck down the hole. She swiveled her neck in a circle. Coming back up, she shrugged, reached across, and tapped Stone’s map display, turning the bay from red to green.

  Stone tapped the map. “Shorty, here’s a map update. Check that red room on the top deck. Your people missed it.” He wasn’t worried about the base being combat ready, all it would take was a few specific twitches in proper sequence of the correct fingers and the charges Shorty’s team had placed around the weapons storage areas and the whole base would blow, taking everyone and everything with it, littering the planet’s landscape with more debris than the enemy had already scattered about.

  Those twitches would be a last resort or something he would do from kilometers away.

  Twitch.

  Boom.

  But, not yet.

  Checking every nook and cranny on the base might yield intelligence of unknown value. To Shorty, every hidey-hole might contain something worth stealing, so, Stone was sure the piglet would look everywhere he could.

  Bea shouted, “Look, Mama!” She held a string of some gems. “These spilled out of this box. Can I keep them?”

  Looting was against UEN regulations, but the drascos weren’t officially marines or navy. They weren’t even mercenaries, since they weren’t getting paid. Stone shrugged. “If it’s all right with Peebee, then it’s okay with me.”

  Bea said, “These are pretty. I want to give them to Anne. She’s hurt and these pretty things might make her feel better.”

  Peebee wonked in excitement. She and her daughters dove into the scattered piles of goods, digging through this and that, bundling up goods to take with them.

  Re-checking the map, Stone saw that the base was changing from red to green almost as fast as the map could update the color. The base was large, but not so huge that swarming through it would take long. A glitter in a pile of goods around a large bunk caught
his eye. A bag of data crystals lay scattered in the mix.

  Looting was one thing. Gathering intelligence was something else.

  Stone scooped the crystals up, noting that some of the crystals were human configurations, some were Hyrocanian, a couple were designed in piglet style, and a few were shaped like none he’d ever seen before. He didn’t know if they had readers that could access them. Stuffing the crystals in a thigh bin, he walked to the bay’s hatch.

  Even though the corridor was marked green on his base map, with a sigh, he put his helmet back on and stuck his head out, looking both directions.

  “Let’s go, girls. Let’s go find Jay and her daughters.” He doubted Peebee and her girls needed the map to locate their relatives. Stone could have found them by their fragrance, instead he used his eyes and map reading skills to move from deck to deck.

  Peebee and her girls dashed forward, disappearing through an open, wide hatch. Stone heard a loud wonking chorus as the drascos gathered with their family. As a counterpoint, he heard a drasco crying. Even from a distance, he could tell it was Anne.

  The injured drasco wrenched at his heart and he tried not to be thankful that the only serious drasco injury had happened to one of the younger girls. They might all be in serious trouble if Jay or Peebee had been killed. The resultant hormonal change from female to rampaging male would be as dangerous as the planted explosives scattered around the base.

  He wanted to rush in to check on Anne, but he stood at the hatch. Waving and directing teams of piglets into the warehouse bay, he scanned as far as he could see in all directions. His map showed every bay and space as green, but that didn’t mean there weren’t enemy combatants hiding who could throw a wrench in the works.

  Most of the piglets were carrying bundles of goods. A series of luggage carts scooted down the corridor at high speed. Shorty stood on the top of the lead cart pointing the way. Injured piglets clung to the tops and sides. The carts themselves were filled to overflowing with booty.