Syberian Sunrise

by S. A. Lusher

  Stern froze up as well. They waited, positioned on either side of a grille that overlooked a main corridor. They were now in hostile territory, well, it was all hostile at this point, but the research labs were extremely hostile.

  The sound went away and, after a moment, they kept going.

  “And they didn't send a warning?” Stern asked.

  “No. They felt that doing so might tip their hand to the fact that they were the ones that had pulled the black op. See, we'd already pissed off Russian by grabbing some of their mining operations via dubious legal loopholes, as well as the fact that there was a big scandal going on at the that time. An American corporation had sold faulty parts to a Russian medical organization and, as a result, a bunch of civilians died...they felt that we couldn't afford another 'scandal'. To be honest, I think they were just pissed off at the colonists.”

  “Why?”

  “I've noticed a kind of 'they made their bed, let them sleep in it' policy that the governments have towards those colonists that want to strike out on their own, free of government rule. All of the governments have that policy, it seems. It's so fucking high school...so, I walked. I was so pissed, so sick of it all. I even tried to make a deal, let me and my crew go on 'leave' and deal with the problem on our own time. They told us no, flat out. Me and about three quarters of my squad just straight-up walked the fuck out of Spec Ops.”

  “That seems a bit rash for a little colony,” Stern said after a moment.

  “Maybe it was, but it was everything. The way they were questioning everything, the way it became less about doing some real good in the galaxy and more about covering the government's ass. The way the megacorps seemed to having their fingers in fucking all of it. We walked, went and protected the colony. Gave them warning, helped them set up defenses. We fucking broke those slavers, sent them all to hell.”

  “And you never went back.”

  “Yeah. We struck a deal with Spec Ops, they let us go, we don't say shit about their operations. Obviously we didn't trust them, we all got new names, new IDs, new faces. And that's the story of why I'm a fucking bitter mercenary,” Enzo said.

  “How'd you get the arm? Lee mentioned you were hitting the morphine pretty hard,” Stern said after a long moment.

  “That's an entirely different story. That is the reason I'm a bitter human being,” Enzo replied.

  They both fell silent as they turned a corner in the vent shaft and spied something up ahead. Whatever it was, it seemed to fill the vent, top to bottom, side to side. Enzo was in the lead and he felt terror shudder through him, the idea of being trapped in a vent with...what the fuck it was. He knew it was alive, the dim light that played across what might have been a face gave that much away. And...it began moving.

  “Shit, we need to get out, now,” he said, hunting for an exit.

  “But we aren't there yet!” Stern replied.

  Enzo glanced down, realizing that they were both on a large grille. The thing in the vent was coming closer now.

  “Too bad!” Enzo said, then hit the access button.

  The grille opened beneath them, depositing them both into the room below, into the waiting arms of whatever might be down there. They both cried out in pain as they hit the ground. Enzo scrambled back to his feet, spying a nearby crate and standing up on it. The vent was rattling. He reached up and slapped the close button.

  “Whew! Close one,” he said, hopping back down.

  “Rains...”

  Enzo looked around. “Oh, you are shitting me up the dick,” he muttered.

  “Don't think I've ever heard that one before,” Stern whispered back.

  They'd dropped right into a storage bay where what seemed to be happening was the construction of a new Nest. The storage bay they'd dropped into was huge, more a warehouse than a bay, the stacks of crates towering over them. Spread out across the open floor in between the crate walls were close to two dozen Mutants and Harvesters, and, what's worse, Enzo saw, a pair of Ires. Okay, so maybe staying in the vents might not have been so bad.

  “We have to get to the exit. Get ready to punch a hole,” Stern said under his breath.

  All the Altered seemed to be still getting used to their presence, turning to face them, readying themselves for combat. Enzo was glad for his shotgun, he'd be needing every shell. He tucked it into his shoulder as he began slowly moving towards the nearest exit that, unfortunately, a dozen Mutants and an Ire were blocking.

  One of the Ires let loose with a marrow-freezing roar.

  The Mutants began to charge.

  “Go!” Enzo snapped.

  He took aim and fired, blowing a fist-sized hole through the chest of the nearest Mutant, sending it flying back into the others. He raced to the right, trying to get around them, racking the slide and blasting the head off of a second Mutant as it charged for him. Behind him, he could hear Stern opening up with his rifle. The battle kicked into gear, lead and blood flying. Enzo continued pumping out shells, focusing them on the Ire now.

  The big brute was making for him and, he noted with some approval, it wouldn't let anything get in its way. There were a pair of Mutants in between it and Enzo. The big thing smashed them both aside with a sweep of its arm. Enzo fired the last shot, directly into its chest, and began feeding shells into the shotgun.

  “We need to get out of here!” Stern called.

  “On it!” Enzo replied.

  He finished reloading, barely had time to bring the barrel up directly into the face of the Ire, which was bearing down on him now, and fire off two quick shots. Both of them blew the thing's malformed head off. While it was still standing, wobbling, Enzo put another two powerful slug shells into its chest, sending it flying onto its back. He turned and blew apart the skull of an approaching Harvester and called for Stern to follow him.

  They beat a hasty retreat across the room, moving backwards now that Enzo had, for the most part, cleared out his side of the room, putting down the creatures as they raced for them. Before long, the pair had made it to the door. Enzo hit the open button with his elbow and turned around, securing the next room while Stern kept covering them. It was a smaller storage bay and it seemed empty. He patted Stern on the back as he turned around and helped him blast back the creatures. They'd put down a dozen of the things so far, but that second Ire was still in the game, and so were half a dozen Mutants and Harvesters.

  They closed the door.

  “That probably won't hold them,” Stern said as they made their way across the room.

  “If we get far enough away, maybe they'll lose interest,” Enzo replied.

  “Doubt it. There aren't too many living people left alive in this place and they seem to be drawn to use like magnets. By the way, good call dropping out of the vents like that, it was way better than hanging out up there.”

  Enzo laughed. “You sure do bitch a lot for a Marine.”

  Stern looked at him for a moment, as though deciding whether or not to take offense to it, then returned the laugh. “It's been a long day.”

  “Yeah,” Enzo replied. “And it's just going to get longer.”

  With that, they moved across the storage bay. They weren't too far from where they needed to be. As they began navigating the badly damaged, poorly-lit corridors once more, Enzo decided it was his turn to get some information.

  “So how'd you end up here?” he asked.

  “Like all the other grunts, I was pulled here. Stuffed on a transport and sent out. It was very sudden and smelled of bad policy. I think whoever actually got approval to enforce some oversight on what they were doing here was worried they were going to lose it and wanted to get the show on the road before Dark Ops changed their minds. Which is a little scary, considering it's supposed to be the Galactic Alliance that's running Dark Operations...not the other way around. Sergeant Major Freeman was the man in charge.

  “He was not happy about it. None of us were. They stuffed us in the Marine HQ and had us patrolling pretty much everywhere e
xcept for this level and the one below it, where the spaceship is. It was just a bunch of grunt work, totally pointless. It was a full month before Freeman began getting access to the research level, and even then another month before they apparently let him in on what was going on. Even after that, they never let us in. They had their own security, obviously. It was a power play, and it failed,” Stern explained.

  “Sounds a lot more of that political bullshit,” Enzo replied.

  “Yeah, only this time it got a shitload of people killed.”

  They both stopped talking as they arrived at their destination. Enzo hit the access button after Stern had gotten into position. The doors slid open. The bay was revealed, still glowing that dim green light. They swept the area with the flashlights attached to their weapons. A lone figure stood in the darkness, across the room, bathed in a dim green glow.

  “Who goes there?” Enzo called.

  They both centered their flashlights on the figure.

  A second later, immense and unthinkable pain exploded across Enzo's midsection. Brilliantly blue-white light engulfed his vision as the pain spread to his limbs and his head, enveloping him. He became aware of screaming, not one but two voices. It took him a second, but he realized that one voice was his own. The other was Stern.

  Suddenly, he was lying on the ground, someone standing over him.

  The pain had receded to a slightly more tolerable level, and now that it had, he could think a little more clearly. It took him a moment, but Enzo finally pieced together what had happened: both he and Stern had been hit with energy-based stun rounds. Technically non-lethal, extremely effective. And they must have been overcharged or of some higher capacity, because Enzo was currently clinging grimly to consciousness, barely able to keep it together.

  Stern was out completely.

  “Ah, my guests have finally arrived.”

  He realized now who it was. Dr. Dietz. The mad scientist. He was looking significantly madder than usually. Half of what remained of his hair had been burned away. Blood splattered his white uniform and his eyes were wide and wild and almost empty. He was grinning a lot and there was a nasty gash along his right arm.

  “They left me to die...” he said, then he laughed uncontrollably for a long moment. Abruptly he stopped and continued as though there had been no pause in his monologue. “Fielding thought she could continue my research herself, could implant herself...could control it herself! Stupid woman. But it doesn't matter, I can continue my own research by myself...which reminds me...” Dietz suddenly turned away.

  With an effort, Enzo followed his movements as he walked to a large console. He spent a moment pecking at it and, as one, the green lights went out in all the remaining pods. Dietz laughed as he returned, the sound piercing.

  “All inferior subjects,” he said, then spat at one of the pods. “Convicts, rent-a-cops, low-level technicians, bah! All useless...” Here, he looked down. “But not like you! Both of you, and the others, who have been through so much. They think it's just meat that you can feed them, no matter the quality, just the quantity! Ha! Show's what they know...what she knows! We can do so much with the Altered, the possibilities are limitless! And I will show them all when I implant you both, guide you with my newest techniques...”

  Something was moving, back there in the darkness.

  Dietz was oblivious, continuing his insane rant about the future of the Altered. The darkness was beginning to close in on Enzo. He wanted to sleep, to give in to the pain more than anything. Sleep, true sleep, was close, so very close.

  But to give in would be to die, very likely.

  Whatever it was came closer now, into the light. A Mutant. It was coming up behind Dr. Dietz. He noticed it at the last second, too late. Spinning around, he raised his arms. The Mutant slashed at him, catching the man in the face and chest it seemed. It was sprayed with blood. Dietz fell to the ground, gurgling horribly.

  The Mutant began to come for him and Stern.

  Enzo lost his fight to stay conscious.

  His last thought was: at least my shoulder won't hurt anymore.

  Then he was out.

  Chapter 12

  –From Scratch–

  The world was a confusing patchwork of pain and darkness.

  Enzo realized he was moving. No, not moving...being moved. He opened his eyes. Even that was a monumental effort. The view offered was a bleak one: old blood on metal, barely lit. The view shifted, but it was just more of the same: a stretch of metal, which he realized was the wall of some bland corridor, sprayed with blood. The lighting was bad, flickering on occasion. He couldn't move any other part of his body.

  Totally paralyzed.

  His shoulder hurt.

  For a long moment, what might have been a minute or an hour, it was difficult to tell, he was utterly, completely lost. Then he finally had it: something was dragging him. He felt the grip it had on the scruff of his body armor, near the neck. He was being dragged. That thought sent an adrenaline-laced bolt of fear through him, but his body was still utterly unresponsive. The bolt of energy Dietz had hit him with was still in effect.

  Enzo felt the pain in his shoulder, in his whole body, surge.

  And then he was out again.

  * * * * *

  When he came to once more, he was no longer being dragged. His body still hurt, but not as bad. The lighting was still poor, though it was at least steady. Someone was standing over him. No, something, a Mutant. And there was something else in the room, something he could sense but couldn't see. Next to him was another body laid out on the ground. It took him a moment to realize that it was Stern. The man was still alive.

  Enzo tried to move. Still nothing. His body had given all it was going to for the moment. He was at least more conscious now, more aware. Stern still seemed to be out of it. They were in a bathroom. He could barely glimpse a row of stalls further down the way. The smell of rotted flesh was horrible. For a moment, there was no sound, save for an almost continuous drip. Then, the clacking of claws across hard tile.

  That other thing he'd sensed earlier was coming closer now.

  It wandered into view. A Harvester. This one was rail thin, ready for the harvest. It lowered its malformed dog head over Stern. Enzo felt his heart rate speed up. The mouth opened and the thin, straw-like tongue shot out, directly into Stern's midsection. He gasped, whether the noise was reflexive or the man was awake, Enzo wasn't sure. He hoped Stern was out, and would stay out. This wasn't the kind of death you wanted to be awake for.

  Enzo tried to move. Nothing...except for his artificial limb. There was something there. It must be coming back online before the rest of him was. Would it be soon enough to save Stern? To save his own ass? He was suddenly stricken with a vision: the Harvester finishing him off, taking away everything that could be used and, as it walked away, a damaged artificial arm lying on the ground in a pool of his blood.

  Stern began to scream.

  His eyes shot open and his body twitched...but didn't move. He was still down for the count as well. Enzo struggled against the confines of his body as he watched Stern's insides being drained away, slowly filling the belly of the Harvester that was killing him. He felt his artificial limb twitch...but it wasn't enough, not yet.

  He didn't know how long he laid there watching Stern die, listening to him scream. He could have closed his eyes to the sight of it, but that seemed like it might somehow be disrespectful. The screams went on and on and on. Before long, there was less of Stern on the inside than the outside. Finally, something vital was taken or damaged and he stopped screaming. Enzo watched the light, the spark of intelligence or consciousness, fade from the man's eyes.

  And he was just another corpse.

  The Harvester seemed to sense this as well. It pulled its tube-tongue back inside and swung its hideous head to face Enzo.

  Now it was his turn.

  He could move his artificial limb and some of his body, but would it be enough?

  The
Harvester sauntered over to him, claws clacking on the tiles. It positioned its head over his stomach, opened its mouth and shot its tongue out. The pain was immediate and immense. Enzo let out a short scream, a bark of pain.

  The time to act had come.

  His fake arm shot up in a burst of strength, gripped the tube and tore it free. The Harvester immediately backed away, a high-pitched keening sound emitting from it as it retracted what was left of its tongue. Enzo ripped the thing from his body and tossed it aside, watching the Harvester flee from the room. One down, at least. The Mutant was coming for him though. Enzo quickly began shoving himself back with his feet, feeling for weapons. He had none. His pistol, gone. His knife, removed. He had nothing.

  Just his arm.

  Enzo lurched to his feet, his body feeling still somewhat numb, but pain shot through him as it came back online, like a foot fallen asleep now filled with pins and needles the flow of circulation was restored. He groaned, made a fist with his fake hand and punched as hard as he could. His fist sank into the chest of the Mutant, breaking through the ribcage. Opening his fingers, he grabbed and felt something wriggling around in his grasp. Realizing what he had, Enzo tore the Slug free of its host, which collapsed into a heap.

  He squeezed, breaking the creature into two halves and tossed away the remains. As he absently wiped the entrails and gore off on his clothes, he looked around. He was alone. As he took a few steps, he staggered. Not good. Enzo realized that he was closed to passing out again. He moved over to the closest door and opened it up, looking for a more secure place to do just that: pass out and recharge away from prying eyes.