Home World

by B. V. Larson

  Then he caught sight of the carnage around us in the murky water and freaked out a little. It’s one thing to train hard on Earth, and quite another to be surrounded by hulking aliens that are still thrashing.

  His gun came up, and he shouted and fired at the twitching carcasses like he was being eaten alive.

  My chrono was going off again. I knew what that meant. I drew my knife, a fine blade with a molecularly aligned edge that could cut through damn-well anything, and slashed at our conjoined feet.

  The boots came apart. I shoved Ferguson, who went rolling away and landed ass-up on top of a big-daddy squid. He didn’t like that. He scrambled around bubbling and cursing.

  The chamber shivered again. Another man appeared—Sargon this time.

  “What’s up, boss?” he asked. “Are these guys all as dead as they look?”

  “Step off the pad and check them,” I ordered. “Ferguson, grow a pair and help him out.”

  “You cut me, sir,” Ferguson complained. “I’m bleeding. My suit has sub-chambered my boot—it’s full of water!”

  “So apply some frigging nu-skin to it,” Sargon bellowed over his shoulder at him. He was already kicking squids and aiming that automatic plasma-bolt rifle at everything he encountered.

  I gripped Ferguson’s arm and dragged him to his feet.

  “Look at Veteran Sargon,” I told him. “You see how his weapon and his pecker are both in the upright and locked position? Get with the program! Check those squids and cover those entrances!”

  “Sorry Adjunct,” Ferguson said, hustling to do as I’d ordered.

  I could see a slight blood-trail wisping up in the water from his boot. That was too damned bad, but he had to pick up the pace, rookie or not.

  More of my team kept popping in. After another minute or so, we were fully assembled.

  “We have to assume there will be a response,” I told them, “we’re moving fast and traveling light. If you can’t walk, you’re squid-chow. Move out!”

  My helmet beeped, and Lisa contacted me. “Commander, we’ve got three incoming on local sonar.”

  “Which way?”

  “The big open portal at the far end of the room. I can’t tell if they’re armed or not.”

  Signaling with my hands, I directed Sargon and Ferguson to follow me. I ran in underwater slo-mo to approach the circular door she’d indicated.

  “Harris, take your fire-team and cover the other entrance. Keep talking to me, Lisa.”

  “Seventy meters—this ship is bigger than I thought it was—fifty meters. They’re swimming fast!”

  I eyed the passage on the far side of the open portal. It teed off to the left and right.

  “On my count,” I said, “we’re going to step through and blast those squids.”

  I didn’t want to give the enemy time to get in close. Sargon and I exchanged glances. It was a risk, sure. I knew that. We had no idea how the enemy were armed or if there were already others out there, waiting to pick us off with rifles.

  But it was a calculated risk. We couldn’t take this ship if we got pinned down and didn’t keep moving.

  Taking in a deep breath of rubber-tasting air, I stepped out into the passageway. Ferguson and Sargon were right behind me.

  -22-

  Three pissed-off squids came at us like they meant business. They were armed with what looked like long-handled forks that had two tines each. The tips of these weapons were quite sharp and occasionally loosed a jolt of electricity that cracked between them.

  I knew right away what their game had to be. We were in water, and we had mesh suits on. A hard thrust would arc through our bodies and right down into the metal deck under our boots.

  With all our gear on, we weren’t able to swim. We were pretty much walking around on the floor of the passage, with just enough gravity to keep us grounded there.

  Our new plasma-bolt rifles came in two different varieties. Either type was designed to be fully operational underwater as they essentially released particle radiation in a tight beam. The rifles carried by Ferguson and me were standard-issue, meaning they fired single shots in a semi-automatic fashion. These weapons had slightly longer burn-rates and therefore greater effective range.

  Sargon’s weapon was different. He had a heavier version with three rotating emitters. With a big pack on his back to power it, he could hose down the enemy with a nearly continuous spray of bolts. Each shot, however, was less powerful and less accurate at range.

  Our approach was simple in any case. Sargon took the center, held his weapon at the hip, but held back on firing. At this range in water, it was best for him to wait before unleashing a brilliant display of firepower down the passage.

  Ferguson and I stood beside him and laid down purposeful, aimed bursts. We opened up the moment our targets came into view, taking as many early shots as we could. We managed to do the squids some damage, but we didn’t stop them.

  I could see the squids flinch and recoil in pain, but they kept coming. Our bolts lost punch rapidly when firing through water, and they were such large and vital creatures they kept charging. They didn’t have to take too many hits before they reached our line as they were moving at least forty kilometers an hour through the water.

  After I’d hit my squid two times and missed a third shot, they were already closing with us. Finally, Sargon’s big gun came into play. He tore up the center squid and hosed down the one on the right. Ferguson and I shot the last one to death, backing up and placing careful rounds into it as it slowed and floundered.

  Ferguson panted and cursed steadily when it was over, but I didn’t admonish him about that. After all, it was his first time taking down a deadly alien charge.

  When the fight was over, I clapped Sargon on the back.

  “Excellent,” I told him. “These guns are better than I’d hoped. Good job holding your fire until they were in close. You turned so much water into superheated steam, we couldn’t see squat once you opened up.”

  “Agreed,” Sargon said. “I like how—”

  That was as far as he got. A slot in the ceiling opened overhead, and a fork jabbed down. It stabbed into Sargon’s shoulder and there was a crackling snap and a flash of light.

  He did a little dance before his arms splayed and his back locked into an arch. I could see his eyes through his faceplate—they were wide and unblinking.

  Ferguson and I shot that squid at least a dozen times before it gave up the ghost. The entire time, it kept feeding Sargon with a sustained jolt. I think it must have had a particular hate for the man and his weapon. By the time the alien finally slid down out of the ceiling, lifeless, Sargon was well-done. He’d been electrocuted and then some.

  Growling, I touched his tapper to mine, but I didn’t get a reading. His mental engrams hadn’t been transferred yet. Maybe that was a mercy. At least Sargon would never remember this death—assuming we were able to revive him at some point in the future.

  I picked up his weapon and checked it out. While I was doing so, Ferguson tried to aim his rifle in every direction at once. He was looking alive now, at least.

  “Let me guess,” Carlos said as he came out into the passage to check out Sargon’s body. “He insulted your mama, didn’t he?”

  “Nope, I just wanted to try out his cool new gun.”

  “Figures, you cold bastard.”

  Ferguson looked at us with eyes as big around as Sargon’s bulging orbs. I knew he was probably thinking we were crazy and ghoulish, but we knew he’d understand our mood better after he’d died and come back another twenty times. You had to die a lot before you could see the humor in these situations.

  “Harris, what’s the sitrep on your side?” I called.

  “All quiet, McGill.”

  “Lisa, what do you have on scope?” I asked.

  “Uh…” she said, sounding stressed. “Nothing, really.”

  “Where do we go? We have to keep moving.”

  “We don’t have a complete map of t
his vessel,” she said. “I don’t know where the engine room or the bridge are. Um—I guess we should head toward the ship’s prow…?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Your girlfriend is pretty sharp,” Carlos commented unhelpfully.

  I shoved him away from me. We had a man down, all my hog troops were panicking, and we’d hardly met any resistance yet.

  “Follow me,” I ordered, and I chose to head in the direction the three squid crewmen with the big forks had come from.

  When in doubt, move out. That was my motto. We marched, leaving behind Sargon and his boiled-egg eyeballs for a better day. Sure, we needed his teleport suit, but we didn’t have time to strip him down until we secured the vessel.

  The crew attacked us as we made our way down that long passage, which I soon realized ran the length of the ship. Judging from the internal dimensions, I figured Force was a cruiser-class vessel.

  They didn’t make an outright charge toward us again. Instead, they ambushed us from the sides so they could get in closer.

  They all seemed to have been issued those nasty forks, and they applied them to good effect. When we got to the end of the passageway, they killed the muscular Lund who might have been voted ‘least likely to dance out of the way of a stabbing squid fork’ and then nailed Kivi to a wall.

  She squirmed and cursed up a storm while we pounded her attacker to hamburger with plasma-bolts.

  Finally, inking and thrashing to a stop, it settled to the floor. Kivi was still alive somehow, but she wasn’t in good shape.

  “It only caught the fabric of my suit,” she said, panting and sweating. “I think I can walk.”

  She couldn’t, of course. Not a step. Her whole side had been seared. She had to be in agony.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, lifting my service pistol to her faceplate.

  “James McGill, don’t you dare!” she said, breathing hard. “You’ll never get anything from me the rest of your damned lives!”

  Now, you have to understand that Kivi and I had an odd relationship. We hooked up now and then, whenever the mood struck Kivi to do so. That’s what made me hesitate.

  Unprofessional, I know. But when you live and die with a team over and over again for years, you develop an entirely different set of private rules your inner circle plays by.

  While I was frowning and deciding what to do, a plasma bolt went off. I turned to see Carlos standing behind me. He lowered his weapon and shrugged.

  “She’ll think you did it,” he said, giving me a little smile.

  That was Carlos for you. A sneakier puke of a man had never been born. He and Kivi had been an item, and he probably didn’t like the idea of her and me getting together again in the future—so pop! He’d solved everyone’s problem all at once.

  “Squad, get clear of this ink. Move out!” I boomed, and they followed.

  I could hear Harris at the back of his team, laughing his ass off.

  “That was a good one, boy,” he told Carlos. “I couldn’t have done better myself. Don’t try that on me, though.”

  “But I already did, Vet,” Carlos said.

  “What?” demanded Harris.

  “I offed you back on Tech World,” Carlos said, raising his voice. “You just don’t remember because your tapper didn’t update fast enough. You remember that, don’t you, McGill?”

  I didn’t look back, but I smiled inside the privacy of my helmet.

  “Damn straight you did,” I lied with perfect conviction. “Twice on Death World, too.”

  “Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

  “Are you fucking with me?” Harris demanded angrily. “Cause if you are, Ortiz, I’m—”

  “Squids!” Lisa shouted over our talk. “Dead ahead and behind that bulkhead on the left.”

  “How many?” I demanded, halting the group.

  “Looks like all of them,” she said after fiddling with her equipment. “I count at least twenty individual contacts.”

  “Has to be an important chamber,” I said. “They’re making their stand. Advance!”

  I moved forward at a faster clip, but just before we reached the bulkhead, the world spun on me.

  The ship had gone into wild motion. We were being thrown around, off our feet. I slammed into walls so hard I feared my helmet would crack, but it didn’t.

  The water in the passageway sloshed around violently. Everyone left alive in the squad looked like toys in a washing machine.

  That’s when the squids made their play. They rushed us, in-close and all-out.

  The pitched battle I’d been expecting finally began.

  -23-

  Humans are wired to be land-creatures—meaning we like living and walking on a flat surface. When someone throws us into deep water, unless we have special training, we eventually breathe the water and die.

  Thus far in this boarding action, we’d managed to keep the squids from using these simple facts of environmental advantage. Their aquatic natures hadn’t helped them.

  That changed when they spun the ship. To aim properly, a man has to have firm footing. It’s a fact of life. Once you’re spinning around with your center of gravity shifting violently, you just don’t know which way to shoot.

  The squids seemed to know this. They came on with a vengeance, seeking to take out every frustration they must have felt about our incursion into their territory.

  Before we could do much more than spin around in a hopeless effort to get our feet back on the ground, they were in close and shoving forks in our butts. Snaps and howls came from all around me.

  Ferguson was gigged like a bullfrog right in front of me. Two of them rammed home their forks and applied the power. He spazzed and puked—it was an awful way to go.

  Giving up on regaining solid footing, my training as a spacer kicked in. I went with the spinning chamber, forcing myself to act as if in open space. The key was not to fight the spin, but to use it.

  Directing my heavy plasma gun, I squeezed the triggers and didn’t let go. The thing spun and spat radiation in a relentless spray of fire. I took out both the squids that were toasting Ferguson, as well as Ferguson himself. I figured I was doing him a favor, really.

  Carlos and Harris, for all their harsh talk, had thrown their backs together and were firing in opposite directions. I left them alone and turned toward the front line.

  There was a full school of squids pouring out into our ranks now. There was no doubt in my mind—we were going to be overwhelmed.

  Gritting my teeth, I did what I thought I had to do—I set off another pulse-bomb right in the middle of my own team.

  The results were dramatic. Every human convulsed in shock and pain. But the squids took the worst of it. Their first ranks went into spiraling swims shaking their tentacles and leaking vital fluids. They hadn’t all been quite close enough to get the full effect, but at least half of them were out of the fight.

  I honestly expected the rest to turn and run. After all, when most creatures are shocked by a devastating attack, they reel back and self-preservation instincts kick-in.

  Not so the squids. Just like ants with a kicked-over nest, killing a lot of them only made the rest furious. They came at me with a singular purpose. They lusted for my death.

  The first fork caught on my weapon. Maybe the squid was blind, I don’t know, but some of its eyes were ruptured and leaking fluids. The jolt stung my hands, nothing more.

  In return, I lit him up with point-blank fire. He almost ripped the weapon from my hand in his death throes, but I managed to hold on.

  Harris and Carlos were at my side, firing steadily into the massed squids. Several were fouled up by the floating bodies of their comrades. Others stabbed blindly, catching one another with jolts in the aft-tendrils as often as they did a marine.

  The fight continued until it petered out to a finish. The last squid died under combined fire from the last four of us—and suddenly, it was over.

  Lisa was crying. There were tears running down her face in
side her helmet. But she’d done all right. She had a pistol in each hand, having picked up someone else’s. Usually techs and bios didn’t get put into frontline combat, and they cared more about their gear than they did their guns. Lisa may have changed her mind on that point.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “We’re good and royally screwed, that’s where,” Carlos said.

  Harris elbowed him, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

  “At least that damned spin is slowing down,” I commented.

  “The ship’s stabilizers must have kicked in,” Lisa said. “I can feel it, and my instruments indicate the control wires are transmitting to the external jets.”

  “Any way to hack into that?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not from here. Get me to engineering or the data center—better yet, get me to the bridge.”

  I looked around at my team. More than half of my troops were down. I’d talked to Graves about this possible situation. What we didn’t want was a total failure. If I thought we were in danger of being wiped out to the last man, I was to find a power source and bring back every teleport suit I could. That way, we could try again. After all, there were still a few days left before the enemy reached Earth orbit.

  But I’m an optimist—I didn’t want to give up. The crew of Force had to have reported this boarding attack. Even if we could get to another of their ships, they’d be ready the next time we hit them. The advantage of surprise would have been lost.

  Besides, in my own personal view, we had to gamble to make any of this work. This wasn’t the right time to make the safe play. We had to get lucky—very lucky—or none of this would make a lick of difference.

  “We press on,” I said. “Let’s see what’s at the end of this passage.”

  All the fun and games had been beaten out of Carlos and Harris by this time. I could see beads of sweat on their faces inside their helmets. They held their rifles to their cheeks, quiet and professional.

  We advanced in a tight group until we reached the final portal. Without hesitation, I opened it.

  I’ve been on the bridge of a squid slaver ship before. This ship was different. Instead of being built on a massive scale with vast holds, it was designed for combat.