Theogony 3: Terra Stands Alone

by Chris Kennedy

  “Wraith?” asked Night.

  “I heard,” she replied. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  Task Force Calvin, Asteroid Weapons Platform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  “Where the hell is Yokaze?” asked Calvin, coming through the door. “The squad in the operations center is done. We need to get the hell out of here!”

  “I don’t know,” Mouse replied. “He was right behind me, but when I opened the door and turned around, he was gone. Two of the Drakuls went down the passageway; he must have followed them.”

  “Dammit, we don’t have time for hide and seek,” Calvin said. “Yokaze, where are you?”

  “I am freeing the prisoners,” the ninja replied. “If you would continue down the passageway, you’ll find me. Hurry! They are coming.”

  Yokaze didn’t say who the ‘they’ were, but from the tone of his voice, they weren’t friendly. “Let’s go,” Calvin said to the remaining members of his group. “Quickly!”

  They charged down the passageway, which turned to the left after about 50 feet. Rounding the corner, they found the first dead Drakul, a throwing knife in its right eye. “Well, at least we can follow the trail of bodies,” Calvin said.

  “Yeah, hopefully it doesn’t end with Yokaze’s,” Mouse said.

  The passageway turned back to the right, and they came to a hallway with a large number of doors down both sides. 100 feet further down the passageway, they could see Yokaze fighting four or five Drakuls, his swords flashing in the harsh glare of the passageway’s lights. Although Yokaze continued to give ground and weave back and forth across the passageway, it was only a matter of time before one of the Drakuls grabbed him. The Drakul sitting behind the group wouldn’t be grabbing him any time soon; the creature was missing both of its hands and was trying to stanch the flow of blue blood coming out of them like a small fire hose. The Drakul seemed perplexed that it couldn’t figure how to do it without an opposite hand.

  “Open fire!” Calvin ordered, aiming his rifle. The Drakuls stood more than four feet taller than the ninja, so the Terrans had a good view of their heads and upper chests; within seconds, the Drakuls were down.

  “Thank you,” said Yokaze. “That was a couple more than I wanted to handle by myself.” He pulled out a key card from his pocket. “I took this from the cook; it seems to open the doors.”

  “Great,” said Calvin. “Hurry up and get them open. We need to get the hell out of here. Zoromski, you and Mouse go to the end of the hallway and set up a perimeter while we get the hostages out.”

  “Yes, sir,” the two troopers said, turning to jog down the passageway in the direction indicated.

  Calvin turned to see one of the giant spider creatures coming from the doorway that Yokaze had just opened. They needed to get the hostages moving before they blocked the passageway. “Tiny, BTO,” Calvin said to the sniper and spotter, “you guys show the hostages where to go. Let’s get them moving. Fast!” Calvin turned to look down the hallway as a grenade blast was heard from the direction of Zoromski and Mouse. “The faster, the better.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Task Force Night, Asteroid Weapons Platform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  A doorway opened as Staff Sergeant Randolph went past it, and the cyborg went down as six or seven Drakuls poured out, tackling the cyborg to the ground. The rest of the Terrans wanted to fire, but were worried about damaging the cyborg. Before they could decide what to do, holes began appearing in the Drakuls as Randolph fired upward through the pile.

  Staff Sergeant Dantone walked up and shot one through the head and pulled it off the pile. Most of the Drakuls had been shot several times by this point, and the rest of the squad joined Dantone in administering killing shots.

  Randolph pushed the last couple of bodies off and stood up. He was a mess, covered in blue goo and missing a number of chunks of his artificial flesh. He stood up, stomping on the head of one of the Drakuls that twitched.

  “The stupid things were biting me on the bottom of the pile,” Staff Sergeant Randolph said, sounding disgusted. “Really? Who tries to eat a cyborg? Stupid Drakuls.” He ejected both magazines from his pistols and slammed new ones into them. He turned around and shot one of the dead Drakuls lying on the floor in the head. “Stupid Drakuls.”

  “Maybe they were iron deficient?” asked Sergeant Hopper.

  Randolph snorted. Night had never heard a cyborg snort before. It sounded like the air brake on an 18-wheel transport truck. “Well, I know one thing for sure,” Randolph said. “They just got their fill of lead.”

  Task Force Calvin, Asteroid Weapons Platform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  “Zoromski, Mouse, fall back,” Calvin commed. “We’ve got all the hostages, and we’re out of here!”

  “Roger that,” Zoromski replied. “Looks like lots of them coming.” Calvin heard two grenades explode from down the hall, and then Zoromski and Mouse came running toward him.

  “Now would be a good time to be leaving, sir! Zoromski commed. “Fast as you can!”

  Calvin turned and began running back toward the airlock, following the mass of prisoners. They weren’t going to be moving fast. He had a bad thought. “Hey, Master Gunnery Sergeant,” he commed, “Are there any spacesuits for all of the aliens that we have coming? There are at least 10 of the Hooolongs, three Archons, four or five of the giant spider-looking things, three things that look like pteranodons or whatever the hell the flying dinosaur was, and two or three other things that I can barely even describe.”

  “Stand by, sir, I’ll ask,” Kinkead replied. Calvin hoped it was the comm system; she didn’t sound very well.

  Calvin caught up with the hostages as they reached the cross passage where the Gordon brothers were standing, firing grenades down the hall into the auditorium. The passageway looked like it had seen better days; it was charred, and smoke filled the air.

  “Hey, sir,” said Bad Twin, “can we go take a look at the auditorium? We were kind of curious how many Drakuls were in there.”

  “What?” Calvin asked. “No! Do you see these hostages? We’re leaving! This isn’t the time to count who killed the most aliens. Help Zoromski and Mouse with rear guard. Let’s go!”

  “Lieutenant Commander Hobbs, Master Gunnery Sergeant Kinkead,” the return call came, “that’s a negative. There are no suits for the alien life forms. We already used the suits that the Drakuls had here. Apparently, this is a one-way trip for most of them. They only had a few suits for some of the techs that had to go out on the surface of the asteroid. Unless they are Hooolongs, Smetlurge says there probably aren’t suits for them.”

  “Understood,” Calvin replied. “Just how the fuck did he think we were going to get the hostages off this rock, then?”

  “He said he wondered how long it would be until you realized that,” Kinkead replied. “He also said there was no reason to bother you with that detail until you actually rescued the hostages. Since you were successful, he says that you need to have the shuttle pull around into the second shuttle bay from the top of the asteroid.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Calvin said, earning a curious look from Good Twin, who continued to fire grenades into the auditorium as the last of the soldiers went past.

  “On the good side, he says it’s not far from here,” Kinkead added. “We can meet here and go in one group.”

  Great, thought Calvin, an even bigger clusterfuck. He switched to the platoon comm channel and added the shuttle crew to the network. “Everyone, listen up. There’s been a change of plans. We have a bunch of friendlies that don’t have spacesuits. We are going to join up at the airlock and go to the shuttle bay. Break. Break. Shuttle 02, did you copy that? It’s the second bay from the top.”

  “Roger, boss, we copied,” replied the shuttle’s WSO. “We’ll go take a look.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Task Force Night, Asteroid Weapons P
latform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  Night checked the map in his head. Their pace had slowed considerably after the Drakuls started attacking them, and he realized they were in danger of getting bogged down and not making it back to the airlock.

  The end was in sight, with only two big cross passages to go; unfortunately, the cross passages were where the Drakuls seemed to be hitting them the hardest. Lacking central control with the destruction of the ops center, the Drakuls somehow still seemed to be getting the word that they needed to stop the Terrans.

  They made it through the intersection, although there was a definite increase in incoming fire. The rear guard, Staff Sergeant Randolph, continued firing as he walked backward down the hallway. Reaching the intersection, he came up short. “Damn it,” he commed, “I’m broke.”

  “Talk to me, Randolph,” Master Chief replied, “What do you mean, ‘you’re broke?’”

  “Something must have happened to me when I got dog-piled by the Drakuls earlier,” Randolph said. “I ran a diagnostic, and there’s something wrong with my primary motivator. No kidding, I can’t move, and I’m hard down if you can’t do anything.”

  “I think I’ve got one,” Sergeant Hopper commed. “They had extras at Sierra Army Base before we left, and I picked up a couple.”

  Sergeant Hopper looked out at the cyborg standing in the middle of the passageway as laser bolts flashed off of him. One of the groups of Drakuls had gotten smart, and all of them were shooting at the same spot on his left knee. Wisps of smoke and the smell of burning rubber filled the passageway as they melted off the pseudo-flesh that wasn’t supposed to melt. The metal underneath glowed red hot. It wouldn’t be long until the metal failed; even if it didn’t, the Drakuls would probably bring up something heavier soon, and then the cyborg would be dead.

  But they needed the cyborg’s weaponry.

  He made up his mind. “Cover me!” he commed as he ran out into the passageway. It seemed like World War III had just broken out as the rest of the squad came back to pour fire down the three separate passageways. Realizing what was happening, and that the cyborg must be important, the Drakuls increased their fire, hoping to take it out before Sergeant Hopper could fix it. Even though he had the cyborg’s bulk for cover, Hoppy was still hit several times in the arms and legs, although most of them were glancing shots that barely penetrated his suit.

  Willing himself to ignore the pain of a laser bolt that had caught him in the left leg, Hoppy popped open the access plate on the back of Staff Sergeant Randolph. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “The rod is bent, and it’s catching as it spins,” Sergeant Hopper commed. “It got caught on a couple of wires and yanked them out.”

  “Can you fix it?” Master Chief asked.

  “Yeah, I can fix it,” Sergeant Hopper replied. “But it’s going to take me a minute.” He paused a moment as another laser bolt singed his right leg. “Think you could push them back a little? It’s hard to-fuck!-concentrate when you keep getting zapped.” He looked down and saw his suit was smoking or charred in several new places since the last time he had looked. The laser bolt that hit his right arm had penetrated and hurt. A lot. He triggered another pain killer from his pharma and all of the rest of his nanobots.

  “Stand by,” Master Chief said.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Hopper said. “Hey Randolph, how about you?”

  “Nope,” agreed Randolph. “All systems are pretty much stopped here.”

  “COVER!” Master Chief yelled after a moment. Hopper plastered himself to the back of Staff Sergeant Randolph. He was sure he’d take some ribbing for the way he was up against the cyborg later when they got back. If they got back.

  There was a pause, and then two antimatter grenades arced down the left passageway into the heaviest concentration of enemy fire. The detonations were enormous in the confined space, and the cyborg rocked to the side. Hopper braced himself and pushed the cyborg back up as two more grenades went down the hallway to the right and two more straight ahead. Hopper locked his suit and was able to keep the cyborg vertical in spite of the blasts.

  Fire from the Drakuls slowed noticeably.

  “Thanks,” Sergeant Hopper commed. “That’s a lot better.” He pulled one of the wires out. “Now maybe I can get some of this shit fixed.”

  Shuttle 02, Asteroid Weapons Platform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  Exit flew the shuttle around to the front of the asteroid where the crew could see into the shuttle bays. As they got their first look, the flight crew noticed movement. Too much movement.

  “Calvin, Foxy,” the shuttle’s WSO commed. “I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news. The good news is that the bay you said to meet you in is open; the two bays below it have their blast doors shut so they would have been a ‘no go.’ The bad news is that it looks like there’s a welcoming party of Drakuls waiting there for you. There are six Drakuls setting up an ambush in the shuttle bay. Want us to do something about them?”

  “Foxy, Calvin,” he replied, “yeah, if you can thin ‘em out for us, that would be helpful. We’ve already got a few casualties, and now we’ve got a bunch of civilians in tow.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Foxy replied. “We’ll take care of them.”

  “Can you tell what they’re doing?” Exit asked.

  “I think they figured out that the platoon is bringing the hostages to one of the shuttle bays,” Foxy replied, looking at his targeting scope that gave him an enhanced view, “They’re setting up a heavy weapons position to shoot anything that tries to enter the bay from the interior of the asteroid. It probably won’t hurt us, but it’ll make a mess out of the platoon and the hostages if we let them.”

  “How about this?” asked Exit. “Let’s not let them.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Foxy replied. “I’ll bet there’s a force screen that will reflect our laser if we try to shoot them from outside the bay, so we’ll have to go in. The only problem is that we’ll probably lose our stealth when we do. Give me a second to get ready.” He switched his laser system on and brought up the targeting system.

  “OK,” Foxy said, “I’m ready when you are.”

  “I’m ready,” Exit replied.

  Foxy turned on the armament panel that allowed him to fire. “Master Arm switch is ‘on,’” he said; “the laser is hot.”

  “Here we go,” said Exit, maneuvering the shuttle into the bay. As expected, the force screen recognized a shuttle and allowed it to enter. As they also expected, the ship became visible as it contacted the force screen. Two of the Drakuls happened to be looking when the shuttle became visible; both jumped back in surprise.

  “Firing,” said Foxy as he triggered the laser at one of the Drakuls looking at the shuttle. Developed to defeat incoming anti-ship missiles, the laser was devastating to flesh. The first laser shot hit the Drakul where its right arm joined its body, blowing it off and spinning the creature around. “One down,” commented Foxy, “and man, could I get used to doing this!” He missed with the next two shots as the Drakuls ran around looking for cover, but blew apart another enemy soldier with his fourth shot, and then a third Drakul with the shot after that.

  The rest of the Drakuls began firing their laser rifles at the shuttle, but they were not powerful enough to penetrate the ship’s hull. Standing still to shoot at the shuttle also made them excellent targets for return fire.

  “That’s it,” said Foxy as he killed the last one. 40 seconds had gone by since his first shot, and all of the Drakuls were down. All of them were in at least two pieces, if not more.

  Task Force Calvin, Asteroid Weapons Platform, Gliese 876, February 19, 2021

  “The hangar bay is clear,” commed Foxy. “We’re waiting for you in it.”

  “Copy, thanks,” Calvin replied, “We just made it to the airlock and are waiting for the other squad to get here, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Calvin looked around at the group milling around in the passageway. Before he
could say anything, Master Gunnery Sergeant Kinkead came out of the control room. It only took two seconds for her to assess the situation, and her face to go purple. “What the hell is going on here?” she yelled. “Who told you to take a nap in the middle of an assault? What, your mommy isn’t here to babysit you, so you all forgot how to be soldiers? What the hell is all this standing around bullshit?”

  No one wanted to interrupt her, but it didn’t matter. She had worked herself into a full-fledged rant. “That’ll teach me to take five minutes to get medical attention. See if I ever do that again! Zoromski, why haven’t you taken charge of this nightmare? Start earning your fucking sergeant’s pay, damn it! Owens, Stump, Cuillard! Get our alien guests into the control room so they’re out of the way in case the Drakuls show up. Keep them there and get Corporal Lawrence to treat any of them that got shot. I don’t care if she knows their anatomy; tell her to fucking figure it out!”

  “Gordons, damn it, stop fighting with each other and get down the hallway to the right. We don’t have any friends in that direction; shoot anything that moves. Hanzo, Patel, go find the Hooolong called Smetlurge and find out where the shuttle bay is. Scout out as far as you can in that direction so we know where we’re going. Westbrook, Buzdar, set up a perimeter 50 meters down the passageway in the center. BTO and Tiny, you’ve got the passageway to the left. Watch out for friendlies; the other squad is coming from that direction, and the captain does NOT want to get hit with a .95 caliber slug. Jones, if you don’t get that damn camera out of my face, I’ll feed you to the fucking Drakuls myself! Now, did I miss anyone? No? Good! Get to work! I, for one, have no intention of dying today, so let’s fucking look alive!”