Theo felt sweat form on his hands. And not from the heat. He was still relatively new to mercenary life. To date, he’d participated in just three prior contracts, none of which had required him to do much more than garrison-style security in the wake of actual fighting. This was the first time Theo had gone in with the vanguard. And he had Charlie Bravo to look after on top of everything else.
Several minutes ticked by in relative silence.
Then—
“Blue Chief,” said Blue Five.
“Copy you,” Wixton replied. “Find anything?”
“Not sure, Chief,” replied Blue Five. “Did Silver Falcon brief you on any prior inhabitants of this wonderful little world we’re on?”
Blue Chief laughed out loud.
“No,” he finally said, recovering. “I am fairly certain nobody—alien, or indigenous—has ever lived here before.”
“Then why the hell am I looking at the entrance to what appears to be a subterranean tunnel?”
The whole platoon stopped short at once. All, except for Charlie Bravo, who kept moving ahead.
“Blue Zero,” Theo said over the tactical, “this is Blue Nine. Come about and stand fast, please.”
ROGER, said the text in Theo’s field of view.
On the wedge-like tactical display, showing a real-time view of the whole platoon—plus the three scouts moving in front—the little dot for Charlie Bravo, suddenly came to a halt.
“Thank you,” Theo said.
“Repeat your last?” Wixton asked Blue Five.
“I don’t know what else to call it, Chief. There’s this ramp leading down to about five meters subsurface, and a big circular pressure door at the bottom of the ramp. I’m standing right in front of it, if you want to patch through to my cameras.”
The whole platoon suddenly got a Tri-V-view of what Blue Five was seeing. Sure enough, it looked like a pressure door. Big enough for two CASPers to pass through, standing on each other’s shoulders.
“Copy,” said Wixton. “All Blue Platoon members, close and group on Blue Five’s present location. I want a three-three defensive perimeter immediately. Is that understood?”
The lot of them rogered their understanding, and diverted course for the discovery their comrade had made.
Before long, half of Blue Platoon was arrayed in a jagged half-circle around the ramp Blue Five had talked about, with a second jagged half-circle up on the surface above. Blue Chief pulled Theo and Charlie Bravo down to where Blue Five was carefully examining the pressure door’s exterior—seeking any sign of power or a control board that might allow the platoon to gain entry.
“It’s not Union-standard,” Blue Five said, “or I’d have found a place to jack my CASPer in by now. I can tell you the alloy is carbon-molecule reinforced. Very durable construction technique.”
“It’s old,” Theo remarked.
“How can you tell?” asked Wixton.
“Look at the runnels cut into the face of the metal. Echo Tango Six’s acid rain has been washing across this artifact for a long time.”
“He’s right,” Blue Five said.
“So it’s . . . pre-Union?” asked Wixton.
“Maybe,” Blue Five remarked. “We don’t know for sure. We’ll have to get inside.”
“Any sign of the F11 deposit that brought us here in the first place?”
“No,” said Theo. Like the others, he had dropped from orbit with a special sensor built into his CASPer’s usual tactical suite. If there was an F11 deposit under them, it should have registered by now.
Blue Chief seemed unsure of himself.
He activated the channel to orbit.
“Silver Falcon here,” said Wixton’s superior.
“Sir, I’m sending up something you oughta see. Need your recommendation on how best to proceed. One of my kids down here thinks this thing might be pre-Union technology, but that’s just a guess. Do we investigate further? Or stick to the original plan?”
A few moments of silence, then Bufordson’s voice replied, “Who the hell builds anything on the surface of a Godforsaken ball like this? Copy you, Blue Chief. Understand you’ve got something highly unusual on your hands. Any luck getting the door to open?”
“Negative, sir. Though I don’t know if we ought to bother trying for too much longer, before we—”
The channel to orbit suddenly cut out with an ear-splitting squeal.
“Dammit,” Wixton barked, his CASPer straining on its mechanical legs, as he tried to reorient his comm system for better signal capture.
“Inbound! Inbound!” yelled one of the other platoon grunts—it sounded like Carla. Her signal was weak and echoing. Whatever had blocked the Chief’s orbital conversation was making a mess of their tactical channel, too.
Theo’s stomach suddenly jumped into his throat.
“Security,” Blue Chief snapped, “Give me a report. Where are they coming from?”
“Everywhere!” shouted Carla’s voice.
“We can’t see anything,” Wixton said. Which was true. The whole platoon was tied together with a sensor-share network which would show them on their tactical display where the bogeys were approaching from and in what number. But the display had gone blank—not even the familiar signatures of the platoon were registering.
“Line-of-sight response,” Wixton ordered, as his CASPer began to charge back up the ramp, with Blue Five close behind. “Are we taking any rounds yet?”
The platoon channel was a squelched mess, but Theo saw the exhaust trail of a CASPer-launched missile lance overhead and detonate beyond Theo’s constricted horizon. At the bottom of the ramp, there wasn’t much Theo could see or do. Lacking specific instructions, he hesitated. Should he stay at the bottom, with Charlie Bravo dutifully at his side? Or take Charlie Bravo up to where the shooting had started?
Without being told, the experimental unit suddenly bolted.
“Hey!” Theo yelled, but it was too late. Charlie Bravo raced to the top of the ramp and disappeared as two more missile trails appeared in the impossibly-thick air.
Theo felt the thump of an explosion through his armor. Nothing on the radio yet. That shockwave had traveled directly up his legs, from the ground.
“Hell,” Theo breathed, and followed Charlie Bravo up the ramp.
The security perimeter had collapsed in on itself. Blue Platoon was fighting savagely—in pairs—as what appeared to be hundreds of things swarmed around them. Theo looked this way and that, until he saw Charlie Bravo going mano a mano with one of the bogeys. It definitely wasn’t a CASPer from a rival mercenary team. Rather, each of the bogeys seemed to be a pile of animated rock. No head, no hands, no feet, just a mass of sand and stones that lashed out with appendages of sand and stone. When one of those hits connected, Charlie Bravo got knocked down pretty hard. Only to leap back up again, and continue the melee.
Not that the CASPer’s weaponry seemed to do much damage. Theo watched as Charlie Bravo put a missile right into the middle of one of the bogeys. The thing blew apart in a hail of fragments. But then, directly beneath where the enemy had exploded, a new one seemed to rise directly out of the ground to assume its dead companion’s place.
With comm out, there was no way to talk to Charlie Bravo, or anyone else.
Theo stood, dumbfounded, simply watching, until suddenly one of the bogeys noticed him, and the fight was on.
Theo hit the ground hard, the bogey directly on top of him, smashing away at the chest of Theo’s CASPer with battering-ram blows. Theo pulled his legs to his pelvis and kicked up and out, hurling the creature away. But before he could get to his feet again, a second creature was on him. Then a third. All of them dumbly hammering with curved arms that slammed into the CASPer’s armored hull like a pile driver.
Then Charlie Bravo was there, sweeping the bogeys off Theo and pulling him unceremoniously to his feet. Together they began targeting bogeys in tandem, launching missiles and MAC rounds, watching the enemy burst into bits with each su
ccessful hit. But it didn’t seem to matter. The enemy reformed the instant they were destroyed, and their total number seemed to be increasing.
Another thump shook Theo to the core, matched with a simultaneous flash of light. When the auto-blackout on Theo’s screen cleared, he could see where one of the other members of Blue Platoon had been destroyed—the CASPer had exploded ferociously.
No sign of Blue Chief. Nor Blue Two for that matter.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“We’re getting creamed,” Theo yelled, not caring if anyone could hear him. He and Charlie Bravo stood back to back, kicking and punching, as well as launching additional missiles.
A damaged CASPer suddenly emerged from the fray, and grabbed Theo’s CASPer by the arm. For an instant, Theo recognized Carla’s suit markings, then she was dragging him back down the ramp, with Charlie Bravo fighting on their flank. Carla seemed to be transmitting something, but the comm was full of static. Finally she aimed a finger at the pressure door at the bottom of the ramp.
It was open. If only just.
A figure seemed to be beckoning through the door.
Theo and Carla ran for their lives. Charlie Bravo seemed to instinctively know what to do, and he followed them, with the bogeys close behind.
They cleared the aperture just as it snapped shut again, crushing two of the bogeys in the process.
And they were in total darkness.
* * *
“Human,” said an odd voice through Theo’s CASPer’s speakers.
He slowly sat up, the motors of his joints audibly complaining. He quickly ordered a full systems check and realized his CASPer had been fairly mauled in the battle. With both missile magazines near empty, and the armor plating having been almost completely pounded to pieces, the mechanisms underneath were slow to respond to his movements—numerous systems glowed yellow on his display, or blinked red if they were completely deadlined.
The only good sign was the temperature was far less than it had been outside. Even if the pressure itself was still over seventy atmospheres.
“Who are you?” Theo said through his helmet’s mic pickup. “Carla? Charlie Bravo? Hello?”
Charlie ordered his external lamps to illuminate. Only one of the three flickered to life.
A Jivool—in self-contained battle armor—stared down at Theo through the creature’s helmet visor. Like Theo’s suit, the alien’s suit appeared to have been righteously trashed, with similar physical battle damage. The bear-faced creature didn’t have an expression Theo could recognize, but its point-to-point Union-universal tether seemed to be working just fine. The Jivool’s mouth moved, and Theo’s CASPer’s computer translated.
“Your companions are alive,” it said, “though I cannot be sure about the odd one. He seems more machine than flesh. Your female is presently unconscious, but her suit is functioning. You are the first living creatures I have seen in almost five cycles.”
“Blue Platoon,” Theo said, trying to struggle to his feet. “We’ve got to help the others.”
“There is no help for them,” the bear-like being said. “Just as there was no help for my own company when we landed here.”
“Let me guess,” Theo said. “You were the competitors that our Zuparti client warned us would be waiting?”
The Jivool seemed to grunt, then closed its eyes.
“I suppose it was inevitable that another mercenary outfit would be dropped here. We too were sent to secure a suspected F11 deposit, though not by a Zuparti. At that time, we expected no resistance, other than the hostility presented by this planet itself. The—” the next word the Jivool spoke did not translate “—surprised my unit entirely. We were not far from here and upset to discover the expected deposit of F11 was not forthcoming when a horde of those things boiled up out of the ground. Our weapons were far superior, but they would not die. My people . . . we fled, until I alone stumbled into this ancient structure. It was purely by luck I discovered the archaic radio signal control commanding the outer aperture to open and close. The things . . . they seem unable to penetrate the walls of this place. It is thing-proof.”
“Where exactly is here?” Theo said, turning to reach his hand across to where Carla’s CASPer lay on its side. Using the connector in his suit’s wrist, he temporarily linked suit-to-suit with her to confirm the veracity of the alien’s words. Then he did the same with Charlie, whose systems all checked out, but who had not as yet begun to move.
“We will discuss that in a moment. But first, I must ask: are there additional Humans who will come?”
“Yes. If Blue Platoon does not report in, or is destroyed, our leader in orbit will send down two other platoons.”
“They will also be destroyed. Nothing which is not original to this planet is left intact. The things see to it. They not only murdered my company, they ripped apart and devoured our vessel.”
“What did your people in orbit do about it?”
“Our vessel was our ship from orbit. Again, we did not expect hostilities. We landed as a whole. Over one hundred of my people died. I salvaged the few power cells I could, whilst fleeing here, and that was the end of us.”
“The . . . things that attacked. What are they?”
“I do not know,” the alien admitted. “I suspect very much they are a native form of life to this world. Not organic in the way you and I would understand. They did not evolve to live on a planet you or I could call home. This is their world. And though they are primitive, they would seem to be perfectly capable of ensuring no foreign presence survives here. Almost as if the planet itself dispatches antibodies to destroy an infection.”
“Is that what we are?” Theo asked, somewhat incredulously.
Carla groaned and began to stir, her voice coming across the suit-to-suit.
“Lord,” she said shakily, “I feel like someone spun me through a double spin cycle.”
“That’s an understatement,” Theo said.
“We the only two who made it?” she asked.
“Us and Charlie. Plus this…other guy.”
“I’ve never seen a Jivool in person before.”
“Me neither. He says his company got here before us and was wiped out just like Blue Platoon got wiped out. He saved us.”
“What for?” Carla asked, sitting upright and staring at their new companion.
“What would be the point in letting you be killed?” the big bear-alien said, using its suit-to-suit with Theo to talk to them both. “There would be no profit in it. While we remain on the surface of this cursed world, we are made allies by circumstance.”
“No argument from me on that count,” Theo muttered. “How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”
“I have been pondering that very question,” the Jivool said.
I KNOW HOW, a text flashed across Theo’s visor.
“Charlie?”
I KNOW HOW, the text repeated itself.
“Okay,” Carla said. “Just what the hell is going on with our experimental CASPer? Charlie, no offense, but none of us are even really sure what you are to begin with, okay? Are you drone? Programmed at Company headquarters?”
NO. I AM ME.
“But what the hell is a ‘me’ in your terms, Charlie?” Theo asked.
I JUST KNOW THAT I AM ME. AND I KNOW THAT WE CAN GET OUT OF THIS PLACE. GO BACK TO ORBIT. I HAVE DONE IT ONCE BEFORE.
Theo stared at Carla, who simply stared back.
The Jivool seemed startled.
“How is this possible?” the alien asked.
YOU HAVE BEEN HERE LONGER THAN I WAS, ORIGINALLY. YOU MUST KNOW ABOUT THE LOWER LEVELS.
“Yes, I have discovered multiple levels,” the alien admitted. “Some of which can be reduced in pressure and temperature, to the point that I can remove my helmet if I wish.”
WE MUST GO THERE. I WILL BE ABLE TO SAY MORE WHEN WE ARRIVE.
* * *
It took them almost an hour to cross through five different pressure locks, each one s
imilar to the first. At each stage, the pressure dropped substantially, until finally they were in an environment which more or less mimicked Earth-relative pressure. After closing the door on the fifth lock, Theo was surprised to see his external atmosphere sensor showed a rapid gas exchange taking place, as nitrogen and oxygen were flooded into the new compartment to displace the carbon dioxide which had dominated before.
When the sensor showed green, Charlie texted the words, OPEN MY COCKPIT.
Slowly, Theo complied, while Carla used her suit lamps—two of three had survived the massacre—to give Theo enough light to see by.
The emergency release on the side of the cockpit worked just like on a normal suit. But the form revealed—when at last the canopy rotated upward—proved to be anything but normal.
Carla audibly gasped. This time, she was heard via comm. Whatever the things on the surface did to distort transmission, it apparently didn’t register this deep in the ancient complex.
“You find me ugly,” Charlie said, his voice a curious and vocoded monotone.
Theo and Carla opened their cockpits and the Jivool removed its helmet. There was an instant of held breath—none of them quite sure if they could trust what their suit sensors said—then they inhaled with relief. Not only was the atmosphere life-sustaining, it was pleasantly cool to boot.
“Jesus,” Carla said, staring at their odd compatriot. “You look like . . . you look like there was barely anything left of you when you were put back together again. What the hell happened to you?”
“I cannot say for sure,” Charlie said, his facial expression neutral. Almost all his face appeared to be scar tissue, save for his eyes, which seemed quite Human, although they blinked slowly at regular intervals, which became somewhat unnerving.
“What does that mean?” Theo asked.
“Do you know the phrase ‘déjà vu’? That is perhaps the best way for me to describe it. I know nothing beforehand. Yet, all of this—as it happens in the moment—is immediately familiar. Landing on the surface. Spreading out in formation. Getting attacked by the creatures above. Even retreating to this old pre-Union structure. I know I have done it all before.”
A Fistful of Credits: Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 5) Page 39