by Doug Hoffman
“They are bloody officers and friends of the Captain besides. I doubt he'll send the SEALs after a couple of grunts who managed to tumble down the wrong hole.”
The passageway took a jog to the left and the wanderers found themselves in a featureless crystalline pipe. Dim omnidirectional lighting illuminated the path ahead, shimmering in a way that suggested a liquid environment. Through the clear tunnel wall a dark shadow passed by.
“What the bleedin' hell was that?”
“Looks like there are things swimming around our little walkway. It's sorta like the shark tunnel at the Georgia Aquarium. You know that the Georgia Aquarium was the biggest aquarium in the world?”
“And knowing that helps us how?”
“I'm just trying to keep the mood light. You know, I always felt sorry for the sharks, swimming around all that tasty food inside the transparent tunnel. Sort of like a banquet under glass and you just can't get at the goodies.”
“Not making me feel better, mate. Let's get out of this section.”
“All right, all right.” Grits paused. “Did you see that?”
“What? If you are having me on I will shoot you in your armored arse.”
“No, man. At the end of the tunnel something went by... there goes another!”
Grits started running toward the far end of the tunnel. Not wishing to be left alone, Brains followed. They pulled up short at the tunnel's end, where it intersected with another passageway. As they watched a squat yellow biped shuffled by.
“It's one of them maintenance trolls, like in the condo.”
“Yeah, he's at least the third to pass by headed to the left. What do you want to do?”
“They're either headed off to fix something, which means they could be headed for the upper levels, or they could be headed back to their quarters.”
“Either way, it beats just wandering around. I say we follow 'em.”
“Right you are, mate. Get after them.”
The two hulking Marines followed after the rapidly disappearing yellow trolls. As in other encounters with the maintenance workers, the trolls payed the Earthlings no mind. The whooboo changed to another connecting passageway and continued their single minded march.
Grits was still in the lead. “You think they saw us?”
“I don't think they care. Just don't lose sight of the blighters.”
Ahead, the three trolls stopped in front of a blank section of corridor wall. The leading whooboo stepped up to the wall and the crystal material began to melt away, just like the airlock doors on the station's exterior. From the opening came the familiar glow of an elevator shaft.
“Shit! No wonder we can't find our way out, they hid the damned doors on us.”
“Don't just stand there, we need to get into that lift before the door grows back shut.”
The two friends hustled down the hallway, arriving just moments after the third yellow alien stepped through the opening and disappeared up the shaft. Grits hesitated at the opening, the shaft extended both up and down.
“Go, go!” Brains urged his partner.
“The last time you told me to jump I fell and almost broke my ass.”
After another second's hesitation, Grits stepped into the shaft and drifted upward after the whooboo work party. Behind him, Brains stepped into the elevator light as the doorway began growing shut.
Inuksuk's Fireteam
The rubble, aftermath of the firefight with the Karf, magically cleared itself away, melting back into the floors and walls. In a half an hour the damage had vanished as if the battle never happened. As things cleared up the moving roadways began flowing again, allowing the Gunny to send out forces to attack the surrounding Karf garrisons. The three Marines left behind as a holding force were doing what idle Marines usually do, complain.
“This is just great. The others are all off hunting down fresh prey and we are stuck here watching an empty hole in the ice. Not only that, the Gunny took Carter with her so we're one short.”
“Come on, Nanook,” said Vinny, the most veteran among those present. “With Davis and Walker missing she only had Beau left from her fireteam, she needed Jimmy more than we do.”
“Right, because we are stuck holding the rear,” carped Zippy.
“It's your fault, Ben-Ezra. If you hadn't gotten clobbered by a wall of ice we'd be on the hunt too.”
“Don't blame this goat-schtup on me, you're the one who got his bell rung attacking something ten times his size.”
“And I killed it too!”
“Hey, knock it off you two. The Gunny told you that we are the reserve force. If one of the other teams gets into trouble we have to respond to reinforce them. That's sound tactics any way you slice it.”
“Yeah, well I didn't sign on to spend my time stumbling around inside some alien fun-house with little gray demons taking potshots at me.”
Inuksuk just grunted.
“So why did you sign up for this mission, Zippy? I know why I did... because the possible payout is huge and it beats shipping out with the Fleet Marines.”
“Really.”
“Really. They go out for four months at a crack and you're lucky to get outside the ship once. That's four months of hot racking and eating Navy swill for shit pay and the possibility of getting blown to hell and gone by some Dark Lord's minions. At least we get our own racks and good chow aboard the Peggy Sue.”
“If the money is so good why didn't you retire after the last mission, mister know it all?”
“The money was good, but it wasn't fuck you money.”
“What?” Inuksuk couldn't help himself, it was a term he had never heard before.
“You know, enough money to tell the rest of the galaxy to kiss your ass. The payout from the last voyage was enough for maybe ten years of good living and then where would I be? Out of shape, no job in a decade and in need of a birth. No, I'm milking this opportunity for as long as I can, and damned glad to have it.”
“When you do get enough money, where do you plan on going, primate?”
“I don't know, my furry friend. Perhaps one of the colony worlds will be civilized enough to settle on. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“OK,” said Zippy. “I get why you are here, Vinny, but why are you here Inuksuk?”
“It's this or hang out in that glorified polar bear zoo on Farside. At least here I get to hunt some real prey and see some sights.”
“Great. So for you two this is just a violent form of tourism—join the OATC and see the galaxy.”
“Meet strange aliens,” added Vinny.
“And kill them,” finished Inuksuk.
An old joke, but Marines valued tradition.
Chapter 30
Bosco's Fireteam
Four Marines sped down the roadway tunnel like a pack of speed skaters, tucked in and drafting each other to minimize drag. Ahead and behind them recon drones weaved randomly. Keti was on point, down on one knee, weapons ready. Behind her crouched Bosco, ready to add his pulse laser to Keti's railguns if needed. The quartet was completed by Simba and Fanni, constantly checking their six for a tail.
The Captain had ordered the Marines to clear all hostiles from the neighboring spires, of which at least a half dozen had Karf garrisons. The Lieutenant and the Gunny agreed that sending a full squad to clear targets one at a time was a waste of resources. A fireteam each should suffice.
Moreover, the rules of engagement were amended—collateral damage was to be kept to a minimum. From the beginning, the Marines were to be careful about catching non-combatants in the crossfire. Now things were even stricter. These thoughts passed through the team members' minds as they approached their destination, the roundabout beneath a minor spire that supposedly was home to the Orloo.
“Look sharp everyone,” Bosco called out. “Remember, don't shoot octopuses, just zasranec grays.”
The team entered the roundabout and dispersed, each headed in a different direction. Unlike the major spires, t
he minor ones didn't have a central column in the middle of their interchanges, just a central island with an elevator shaft, a naked column of light, leading upward. Keti tucked and rolled straight ahead, onto the unmoving central area. Bosco went high to the right while Simba and Fanni circled and came at the elevator from the farside.
“Clear!” Keti shouted, echoed by calls from Simba and Fanni.
“OK, drones up shaft,” Bosco ordered. In the lull between securing the main spire interchanges and launching the new missions the Marines had received a resupply of individual recon drones. These had the added attraction of containing bursting charges. The original, non-exploding drones were lost at a terrible rate so the Marines figured, if they were going to be expended anyway, they may as well turn them into guided munitions. The ship's fabs worked overtime to supply the expeditionary force with a pair of new drones apiece.
Both Simba and Keti sent drones up the shaft. They spiraled around each other as they rose, scanning for signs of danger.
“Contact! Crew served weapon third floor up,” Simba reported.
“I got hostiles on the other side, same floor,” added Keti.
“Take them out.”
Keti sent her drone flying straight for the clutch of gray figures, lounging around a plasma cannon. A fraction of a second later her video feed went dead. Two explosions reverberated down the shaft, followed by debris—gray bodies and the remains of plasma cannons.
“I believe we got them, Lance Corporal.”
“Da. Fanni, another drone.”
Fanni complied, sending another of the grapefruit sized spheres spiraling up the shaft. “Looks clear of heavy weapons,” she reported after a few seconds.
“Pyats ballov, great job. On me, trigger the lift.” Bosco jumped from his vantage point, did a shoulder roll across the moving roadway, and jogged up to the now illuminated shaft without missing a beat. As he drifted smoothly up the shaft the other members of his fireteam followed.
Drifting toward the ceiling Fanni said, “I hope this doesn't end like it did for those folks who floated up to the ceiling in Logan's Run.”
“What?” said Keti, puzzled.
“Nothing, old movie reference.”
Bosco stepped off on the third floor, between the two detonation points. “Fan out.”
“Going right,” called Keti.
“Going left,” called Simba.
“On your six,” Fanni rounded out the reports.
Around them were fields of sawgrass, planted in sandy soil, divided by tall canebrakes. The ceiling above emulated blue sky with traces of high cirrus clouds. Artificial breezes rustled through the grass. The effect was that of a windblown coastal region, except for the ten meter hole where the elevator pierced the floor and sky above. Through the grass trampled trails led off in several directions.
“The trail behind the gun emplacement seems a bit better traveled than the others,” Simba reported
Keti picked her way through the Karf body parts and moved beyond what had been their firing position. “Same on this side.”
“Active camo on. Simba, Fanni, follow right trail. Keti, I'm coming to you. See if the trails lead anywhere.”
As stealthily as possible the pairs of seven foot armored monsters moved in opposite directions, away from the central elevator shaft. Using IR, Bosco and Keti could just make out figures hiding in the tall grass ahead of them when the plasma bolts began to fly.
Grits & Brains
Emerging from the elevator they found themselves in a tropical hothouse, a humid forest of broadleaved plants and hanging vines. Mosses and ferns covered the ground and trails led off in all directions, the interior of an indoor arboretum or a Victorian conservatory gone wild.
“We get on the lift in an empty corridor and get off in the middle of a bleedin' rainforest. This place is total bollocks.”
“Hey, we're out of the hub and back in a spire. Be thankful for little blessings my Momma always said.”
“Do you have a saying for every occasion?”
“Momma did. Just follow the little yellow guys and see where they're headed. We need to find an elevator down to the transport system or an airlock.”
Brains grunted in reply and set off after the last of the whooboo. The ground beneath their feed squished, releasing muddy water, while looping vines clutched at their suits and leaves obstructed their vision. Without warning a plasma bolt sizzled through the lush vegetation.
“Incoming! Going right.”
“Going left.”
Switching to IR in hopes of penetrating the undergrowth, Grits picked out multiple signatures—too small and too numerous to be the maintenance trolls.
“Contact ten meters out, multiple bogies.”
“Right, mate. I got them. I say we take them out.”
“Remember the ROE, we ain't supposed to take out non-Karf aliens. We need positive id.”
“OK, let's move forward, but if this turns into a cock-up it's on you, Yank.”
Carefully the two armored giants moved toward the alien contacts, active camouflage helping them to blend in with the luxuriant greenery. Pushing aside a large frond Grits found himself confronting a group of a dozen Karf. Two of them were trying to swing the muzzle of a large plasma weapon around to point down the trail he and Brains had been following just minutes ago.
“They're hostiles, Bubba!” Grits shouted as he bounded out of the jungle, knocking aside several Karf. The only real threat the humans faced was the plasma cannon, so the charging Marine headed straight for it. Seeing the armored giant headed right at them the weapon's crew tried to bring the cannon to bear. They were not fast enough.
With a sweep of his left arm, Grits knocked the barrel of the weapon aside. Taking a step forward he swung his right arm, throwing two gray hostiles fifteen meters through the air. One of them fell down the unactivated elevator shaft out of sight. The other described a shallow arc toward a particularly verdant clump of vegetation. From the thicket a flash of pink extended, collided with the flying Karf, and, in the blink of an eye, yanked the body from the air.
“Whoa, Bubba, did you see that?”
Brains stepped from cover and hosed down a half a dozen grays who were trying to target Grits. One charged the Marine from his left. Not wishing to shoot a lone Karf with a 15mm round, Brains moved to the left and physically struck his attacker with an upward sweep of his arm. The Karf flipped over backwards from the impact and landed among a clump of large plants. The stalks and leaves shook mightily where the Karf landed, which struck Brains as odd.
“See what, mate?”
“A long pink thing, about as thick around as a man's arm and the color of bubble gum, shot out of the brush and snatched one of them gray critters right out of the air.”
By this time most of the Karf were running away, but several inadvisedly brave individuals accosted the Earthlings. One jumped forward and grabbed the plasma cannon's barrel. Seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye, Grits reached out and seized the gray biped by the head. The Marine squeezed and the alien's head popped like a pimple, sending a gout of blue-gray ooze squirting into the air.
“Yuck,” Grits commented, dropping the dead Karf and wiping his gauntleted hand on the barrel of the plasma cannon. He picked up the alien weapon, ripping out the connections to its power pack, and heaved it into the elevator shaft. He turned in time to see another overly aggressive Karf, standing at the edge of the clearing, raise his plasma rifle.
“Behind you!” Brains belatedly warned his partner. But the shot never came. To the astonishment of both Marines the greenery parted and a large mouth appeared, enveloping the Karf's head and most of its body. Green on the top and white on the bottom, the mouth closed and vanished, with the protruding gray legs of the Karf still twitching.
“Bloody hell!”
From the other side of the elevator opening more Karf appeared and opened fire, several shots striking Grits, causing his armor to light up with orange flame. He turn
ed to return fire but Brains beat him to it, sending a burst of 15mm into the pack of them. Bright yellow explosions sent gray body parts flying, effectively ending the engagement.
“Any damage, mate?”
“Naw, just sort of startled me is all. What's going on around here?”
“I think we are not the only ones killing Karf. Some big green thing snatched one right off the ground by that big rubber plant.”
“Yeah, I saw. You missed whatever nabbed the one in midair.”
From the main trail behind them came a rustling. Both Marines turned and saw what looked like a huge frog hop into the clearing. Nearly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle it was colored bright green on top, turning to a vibrant yellow stripe around the edges of a pure white underbelly. It looked at them with a single yellow eye, located on the middle of its head.
It shuffled forward and with a webbed hand picked up one of the Karf's plasma rifles that was laying discarded on the ground. Both men raised their weapons. The frog blinked once, then spoke.
“We kill Karf... use their weapons.”
“Right you are. Who are you?”
“Braggitt,” the huge amphibian croaked.
“Pleased to meet you, Braggitt. Me and me mate here are Marines, from Earth, and we're just passing through.”
“All Braggitt... I am Creoak. We help kill Karf.”
“That's great, Creoak,” Grits said, joining the conversation. “Y'all kill as many of them gray bastards as you want, there's no bag limit.”
“We have waited long for this...” the frog's throat pulsed between bursts of words, as the amphibian caught its breath. “You kill them all... good practice for what will come.”
The frog blinked again and turned back toward the trail. On its back was a much smaller frog, a brilliant scarlet in color. The smaller amphibian looked at the two men and blinked its eye. The bigger frog jumped and they disappeared into the jungle.
“Well if'n that don't beat all. A talking frog, with another frog on its back.”
“I wonder what that bit about 'what will come' meant?”