Sea of Sorrows

by James A. Moore

  Manning said it with a certain admiration in his voice. Or maybe it was lust. The man seemed like the type who lived to get laid.

  Decker didn’t reply. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t say something to provoke the man into kicking his ass. Pissing Manning off seemed like a very bad idea, but that didn’t mean they were going to be friends.

  “It’s nothing personal, Decker,” the mercenary continued. “Part of my job is to protect Rollins.”

  “Fuck yourself, Manning,” he replied. “Nothing personal.” There were limits.

  Manning just chuckled.

  They reached the recreation room, where the rest of the mercenaries were gathered. Thirty-five men and women were looking over their weapons, and there was a steady murmur of conversation. There were twenty or so men and the rest were women who looked like they could hold their own in any sort of conflict. It wasn’t about the build—it was about the attitude. As a whole they moved like long-time combat veterans. No one wore a uniform, and most were dressed in clothes that were well worn and comfortable. The whole gathering looked up as they entered, and the murmur died away.

  Manning spoke first.

  “Everyone, this is Alan Decker,” he said. “He’s going to be working with us planetside. Treat him with respect, and everything will be fine.” He looked hard at the skinny redheaded kid. “That goes for you, too, Garth.” The kid seemed like he wanted to say something, but the glare Manning shot him shut him up.

  Garth. The kid that he’d kicked when they were abducting him, if Decker was right. He looked the right size, and he’d been staring daggers since they came out of cryo.

  Most of the crew had patches with names on them, a giveaway that they’d been Colonial Marines at one time. Decker looked at Garth and stepped closer.

  “Pretty sure I nailed you when you came to my apartment,” he said. “Here’s the deal. You don’t hold a grudge for that, I won’t hold a grudge for what you did to me.” He wasn’t sure he could manage that, but was willing to give it a try.

  The skinny redhead just returned his stare, wanting to pull out his manhood and measure it, but Decker was a seasoned pro. He’d had to stare down locals more than once in his career. The kid looked away first.

  “Adams!” Manning said loudly, and a woman sitting in a corner of the room shot him a look, then offered a playful grin.

  “I’m right here,” she said. “No reason to bellow. Dave over here is loud enough for everyone.” The man she spoke about sat right next to her and looked up, surprised. He never said a word, however.

  Manning chuckled and shook his head.

  “It’s time for your good deed of the day, Adams. Talk to Decker here and get him as prepped as you can for our little expedition.”

  The woman eyed him from head to toe and he returned the favor. She had short-cropped auburn hair and brown eyes. Her skin had the sort of tan that came from working out in the sun, and her face and arms were scattered with freckles. He wondered where else she might have them.

  “Close your mouth, chief,” she said amiably. “You’re going to attract flies.” As she moved closer, he gauged her at about eight inches shorter than he was, a hundred pounds lighter, and not the least bit intimidated. She worked with men who could break him in half, and might be able to do so herself. He liked her immediately. Something about strong, confident women did that to him.

  Not with Rollins though. That woman was just evil.

  When he didn’t say anything, Adams just shrugged and pointed.

  “Let’s see about getting you some equipment,” she said.

  “Equipment?”

  “Listen, we don’t have a lot of spares but I think we can probably find you a little bit of armor, and maybe a weapon or two.”

  He started to ask why, but then he remembered the dreams, and the sheer malevolence they brought. Suppressing a shudder, he just nodded.

  “Sounds good to me,” he said. “I think I’d kind of like to survive this.”

  “Then let’s see what we can find for you.” She set off toward what he assumed was their arsenal, and he followed. She continued talking over her shoulder.

  “Listen, I don’t know what happened back on Earth, Decker. It’s not any of my business. All I know is you’re here now, and you’re supposed to work with us. So when you get the equipment, remember whose side you’re on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Adams stopped walking and turned to look at him so quickly that he almost tripped over himself coming to a halt.

  “I figure you probably aren’t here by choice.” She looked hard at him, studying his face and his expression, locking eyes with him for a few heartbeats. “I get it. You were shanghaied. You’re probably pissed off. Just don’t try to take it out on us. We’re grunts. We’re here to do a job.

  “If you get in the way of that job, you’re going to get hurt,” she added.

  Decker nodded. What she said made a world of sense.

  “Not on my agenda.” Trying not to be obvious, he studied her face, attempting to see beyond the surface. She was a little nervous, but he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the upcoming drop to an unfamiliar territory. “You’re right,” he added. “I don’t want to be here. But I’m not going to blame you or anyone else in your group. You’re not responsible for fucking with me. I already have the people I need to blame, and they’re the ones who hired you guys.”

  “Understood,” she offered. “But it still needed to be said. This isn’t the first time we’ve worked with people who were ‘volunteered,’ and a couple of assholes got stupid. But we’ve learned from our mistakes. You can bet there’s going to be somebody watching every move you make.”

  He just nodded, keeping his face neutral.

  “I just want to go home,” he said truthfully. “And I want to get there alive. Anything you can do to help that happen is just going to make us friends.”

  Adams smiled. It lit her entire face.

  “Good,” she said. “Now, have you ever fired a weapon before?”

  “I’ve used a plasma drill, and did some hunting when I was a kid.”

  “Where the hell did you go hunting on Earth, and what did you hunt?”

  “My uncle was in a preserve club. We went hunting for deer every couple of years.”

  “You ever get one?” She eyed him critically.

  “No. Mostly they brought me to carry supplies.”

  “Yeah. I thought I saw the eye of a killer in you.” She sniggered and started walking again. “That’s okay. We’ll get you prepped.”

  He nodded, fully aware that she couldn’t see the gesture. He did need to get prepped, though. There was something waiting for him on New Galveston, and he intended to be ready for it. One thing his uncle and his father had always said on those damned hunting trips was that he should trust his instincts.

  He intended to listen to that advice.

  * * *

  Adams showed him how to use two different firearms—a hand-held throwback pistol she called a “reaper,” which fired classic .44 caliber slugs, and a 50 watt plasma rifle that worked a lot like the drill he’d trained on back in the day.

  The difference was that the rifle fired at long range, and let out small bursts that would blow a hole through the average ship’s hull. For that reason Adams trained him how to fire the weapon without a charge in place. In theory, he’d be able to handle the thing when the time came.

  She let him take the reaper with him, but didn’t let him have any clips—not just yet. Apparently she had to get everything cleared through Manning before allowing him to carry live rounds.

  He didn’t like it, but he understood it.

  Though there wasn’t much armor to spare, she did find him a helmet that fit fairly well and an impact vest that would stop most conventional weaponry. It wouldn’t do a damned thing to slow down a plasma discharge, of course, but very little could.

  The training session lasted clos
e to two hours, and ended when Manning called over the ship’s intercom to let them know it was time for the debriefing. Decker found himself surprisingly disappointed. For a little while he had almost been having fun. Adams seemed to feel the same way about it.

  * * *

  When they were all settled in the rec room again Rollins showed up and gave them a rundown on what was expected.

  “New Galveston is a colonized planet,” she said. “The atmosphere is breathable, and the gravity is roughly eighty-eight percent what you’d find on Earth, so while there will be benefits, you’ll need to exercise caution.” Decker knew exactly what she meant. Lower gravity meant better endurance, and provided a general feeling of greater strength. But that could be deceptive. While a person could clear a greater distance when running or jumping, more than one novice had knocked himself senseless when working in reduced gravity without taking the time to properly adjust.

  “Muller… Muller… Muller!” It was Adams who started the chant, and half a dozen joined in while a bruiser with heavy freckles and copper-colored hair blushed furiously and grinned. Judging from the catcalls, he had probably knocked himself out in the past, and the rest weren’t about to let it go. He almost smiled at that.

  Rollins waited until they calmed down, and then started up again.

  “There are three major settlements, and train tubes that lead to them, but none of them will be close by, so don’t expect an easy time of it if you wander off and need backup or support.”

  Several of the group nodded their heads. Though they all seemed at ease, Decker noticed that all of them were paying close attention.

  “Rutledge is the closest city, and it’s approximately fifteen miles away by rail. The tube trains don’t quite reach the mining colony, but there are regular trucks running to and from the dig.”

  Wait. Mining colony?

  “What mining colony?” Decker was barely aware that he’d spoken. Rollins looked in his direction.

  “Since you were last planetside, the company discovered that there was, in fact, a previous dig at the site of your Sea of Sorrows. A trimonite mine, and it’s been restarted. There’s an active vein, and it should provide a valuable revenue stream—which is fortunate. New Galveston has levied hefty claims against us, for failing to terraform the planet to their specifications.” The look she proffered said fuck you without any words.

  Rollins continued, “There is a crew already in place, medical teams are already available and you’ll be pleased to know that there will be a barracks for your use.”

  Several of the mercs smiled, and Decker was right there with them. He’d been in more than one situation where the best he could hope for was a tent. Actual barracks were damned near a sign of luxury, by comparison.

  “There’s more to this, of course. And that’s why we’re footing the bill for your freelancers, Mister Manning.” Decker suppressed a laugh. Freelancers. It just sounded so much nicer than thugs-for-hire. “When the mine was cleared and made operational, we discovered the remains of a vessel. The ship we located is not of terrestrial origin.”

  She let that settle in with the mercenaries. Decker licked his lips. Suddenly his mouth felt inexplicably dry.

  Manning spoke up.

  “Is it a configuration that’s been encountered before?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. “And if anyone would be able to identify alien tech, it would be Weyland-Yutani.” Rumor had it that the company had made several of their more radical leaps in technology by retrofitting alien artifacts for “new” advancements.

  “Here’s the thing,” Rollins continued. “Based on a prior agreement, the company has full rights to the land that’s being used. Whatever we find, they own. That’s why you’re here. We intend to keep it that way. As soon as the vessel was discovered, the digs stopped. They’ve been waiting until your team arrived.

  “Do we expect trouble?” she added. “No, we do not. But we intend to be prepared for it.”

  Decker crossed his arms. As much as Weyland-Yutani seemed to have the government in their pockets, back on Earth there were rules that had to be followed—rules even they couldn’t circumvent. All alien technologies were subject to quarantine, and there were procedures that needed to be followed in order to certify any claims of ownership.

  But Weyland-Yutani didn’t intend to follow the rules. Decker knew it. So did the “freelancers.” That was the reason for the strong-arm tactics. It had nothing to do with his pissant reports—once they had identified Decker as an asset, they’d made certain nothing stood in the way of acquiring his “services.”

  Manning beat him to the next question.

  “Any chance there are active life-forms down there?” He didn’t look pleased with the possibility.

  Rollins surprised him. She told the truth.

  “Yes—in fact, we’re hoping for it. That’s one of the reasons Mister Decker is along. We believe he might have… unique insights into the life-forms you might encounter.”

  “What sort of insights?” Manning again. Regardless of what he thought about the man, but Decker had to admit that he asked all the right questions.

  “That’s hard to say with any clarity,” she replied. “Mister Decker is a low-level empath. He seems to have established some sort of unique connection with the lifeforms. He’s essentially along to help you sniff them out.”

  So much for keeping our secret, Decker thought. Sorry, Dad. He noticed several of the mercenaries looking at him with an undisguised combination of curiosity and suspicion. He glanced at Adams, and was pleased to see that she seemed unperturbed.

  “And if we find these aliens of yours?” Manning asked. “What do we do then?”

  Rollins looked around the room, her expression serious.

  “You know the drill,” she said flatly. “We want samples of any technologies you find, but your first priority is those life-forms. We want aliens, and we want them alive.

  “Each of you has access to an information file. The file belongs to Weyland-Yutani and is considered extremely confidential.” She paused to look at the mercenaries one after the other. “Do not take this lightly. Do not attempt to copy the information, it’s been heavily coded and protected. Your access ends the second you leave the Kiangya. Some of the information has been redacted. It’s strictly ‘need to know,’ and covers everything we’ve learned about the Xenomorph XX121 alien life-form, in the 260 years we’ve spent trying to capture one.”

  Her hard-ass attitude didn’t seem to faze Manning in the least. He stared back just as hard.

  “What do you know about these things?” he pressed. “Are they dangerous?”

  “Most likely,” she acknowledged. “And are you highly trained professionals who charge exorbitant rates?”

  “Yeah, we are,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we go in blind. So I’m gonna ask you again—what do you know about these things?”

  She took a moment, staring at him, her features entirely unreadable. Then she continued.

  “We don’t know much, aside from what’s contained in the files—our experience with them is limited. They seem to be adaptive. They are aggressive. What little data we have indicates that they might secrete a liquid that’s toxic, or caustic, or both—there are some details concerning their physiology, and the different stages of their development. They seem to have bred to hunt, and should be approached with extreme caution.”

  Manning snorted.

  “So while we’re disposable, you want us to keep them alive.”

  Rollins shrugged.

  “We didn’t send you along as glorified security guards. There are three-dozen of you, including Mister Decker. You are being extremely well-compensated,” she said. “We expect you to use proper precautions, and be prepared to defend yourselves, but we also expect you to remember that a goodly portion of your pay is decided by how successfully you follow the directives you’ve been given.” She stepped closer to him. “I’m sure you have plenty of your own toy
s, suited to the occasion. On top of those, we’ve provided you with everything you need to restrain your targets, once you’ve located them. That includes foamers.”

  “What the hell is a foamer?” Adams said. She glanced at Manning, to see if he was pissed at her for speaking up, but he didn’t seem overly worried about it.

  “A foamer is useless in combat,” Rollins explained. “The containers are too bulky and weigh enough to cause problems, especially if you aren’t on a level surface, but if you manage to capture one of the creatures, you can essentially cement it in place. Its contents harden fast, and the foam is porous enough that it shouldn’t prove lethal to the captive. The company has ways of removing the foam when you deliver your packages.

  “So there you have it.” She smiled. “Play nice, boys and girls, and you will be richly rewarded.”

  “That means there’s a pretty bonus waiting, if we don’t screw this up,” Manning said, and he looked at each member of his team. “So let’s do it right the first time.”

  That won him a few smiles.

  Decker just felt his stomach churn.

  “What if all we find are a bunch of dead aliens?” Manning looked back at Rollins. Decker suspected that the merc already knew the answers to all the questions he was asking, but that he was asking them for the benefit of his troops.

  “You still get paid, and handsomely, as long as you return at least a few of the bodies intact.”

  “And if they’re not intact?”

  “You get less.” Rollins stood a little straighter, indicating that the Q-and-A was at an end. “Any other questions?”

  “When do we start?” That one came from Adams, and it elicited murmurs of agreement from the rest.

  “We’ll be over the drop site in another hour and fifteen minutes. So I’d recommend getting your gear together. In the meantime, study the information in the files. Your lives may depend on it.”

  “You heard the lady,” Manning bellowed. “Let’s get moving!” He clapped his hands together with a loud report, and started walking. His people followed quickly, but Decker stayed behind for another moment.

  Rollins took the hint.