by J G Cressey
“Christ, it’s really big,” Franco said, keeping his voice low.
“You said that already,” Poots growled.
“Ok, can it,” Cal ordered. “Stay calm, and be ready to fire on my command.”
The swell surged closer.
Twenty-five meters…twenty meters…
It’s not slowing, Cal thought as he involuntarily gripped his weapon a little tighter.
Fifteen meters…
Cal swallowed a curse. He could make out a dark shape now, and Franco was right; it was worryingly large. “On my mark…” he said, ensuring that he had the head of the dark shape tracked in his sights.
Ten meters…
“Fire.” Cal bellowed the order, and an instant later, the din of repeating pulse rifle rounds filled the air. The blasts pounded into the swell of water like a hail of flaming meteorites. But whatever was approaching still didn’t slow or deviate. Instead, it continued its relentless charge, covering the last few meters in a mere second before erupting out of the water in a huge, confusing, dark blur that was starkly contrasted by a mass of bright spray that dazzled in the sunlight. At the front of the group, both Franco and Forester fell backwards, hitting the ground hard but not easing their fire for a second. Max started to run forward but came to an abrupt halt way short of the threat. Cal eased off his trigger, aware that Max’s superior eyesight had detected something that the rest of them couldn’t yet make sense of.
Cal lowered the muzzle of his rifle an inch. Something strange was happening. Through the flashes of the other weapons and the dazzling spray, he could see the dark attacker coming apart—not torn apart by pulse blasts but separating into countless tiny shapes, each seeming to have a life of its own.
“Hold your fire,” he shouted. “I said hold your fire. That means you too, Franco.”
As the din quieted and the last of the spray hit the ground, a mass of tiny creatures—which seemed an odd melding of a fish and a frog—continued their speedy journey. Now that they’d left the water, their tightly packed, coordinated swimming had turned into a chaotic display of clumsy mass hopping. Most of the tiny creatures were effectively managing to negotiate their way around the team, but some were colliding with armor, pinging off it harmlessly before changing direction and finding a way around. A little stunned, the whole team—including Max—turned and watched the strange, hopping parade as it swiftly moved past them and disappeared over the grassy ridge.
For a moment, all that could be heard was the fading sound of the creatures combined with the sizzling water that had been subjected to a barrage of plasma rounds.
“Well done, Corporal,” Becker said, eventually breaking the silence. She turned back to direct an amused grin at Franco, who was still lying on the ground. “I think you might have managed to kill quite a few of the vicious little bastards.”
This set off a few laughs.
“Yeah, well, it was them or me,” Franco retorted, sounding a little disgruntled.
Grinning, Cal stepped forward and helped him to his feet. “I have to say, Corporal, you’re not looking your usual, calm self.”
Franco managed a wry smile. “Yeah well… I guess I’m just going to have to toughen up a bit before I go winning any medals.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
A wrecked ship lay crippled on the top edge of a high ridge, an ugly score carved out of the pristine ground from its less than graceful landing. Even from this distance—and despite its mangled state—Cal could identify it as a scavenger ship. An unregistered, black market build. Its hull was a patchwork of poorly executed repairs, most likely carried out on a fringe space colony by a less than reputable ship yarder. Concealed behind the lip of an opposite ridge, Cal peered at the wreck though his scope. He could tell by studying the scarred earth that the crash was fairly recent; no more than a couple of days, he guessed. Perhaps fresh enough for any survivors to still be in the area. At least it wasn’t pirates—not keen on their rides falling apart in between atmospheres, pirates always took good care of their ships.
“Scavengers?” Becker asked. She was lying by his side.
Cal passed her the scope. “Yep.”
“You think they were after the drones?” Couter asked.
Staying low, Cal looked back at him. Both he and Poots were kneeling a few meters down the ridge, keeping a watchful eye. “Undoubtedly,” Cal replied.
“I guess this planet liked their ship even less than ours. Looks like it was a pretty bad crash,” Poots said.
“Or they simply had a piss-poor pilot,” Becker suggested.
“Yeah, Sergeant, that’s probably it,” Couter agreed, shooting an odd sort of half smile in Becker’s direction.
Cal glanced at his young recruit with a shake of the head. He hoped the young man’s sudden awkwardness in Becker’s presence was only obvious to him.
“You think they’re still around?” Poots asked.
Cal stared down at his comm. “We’ll know more soon.” He had sent Orisho and Wilson scouting to the east while Franco and Forester skirted west. He wanted to make sure that none of the scavengers were milling about before they moved in. Normally, he’d have Max perform a thorough scan, but right now, he wasn’t feeling overly confident in his mechanized comrade’s abilities—the terrain had become notably steeper of late, and the robot had remained at the foot of this particular ridge seeming worryingly put off by its gradient.
As they continued their wait, Cal felt himself growing impatient; they weren’t exactly lavished with endless daylight. Why couldn’t these inconsiderate bastards have crashed on the other side of the planet? he thought as he took his scope back off Becker and scanned the surrounding landscape. In truth, he doubted the scavengers were still in the area—assuming any of them had even survived—but he had to be sure, and the wreck needed to be investigated.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before his growing impatience was put to rest by Franco and Wilson sounding the all clear over the comm.
“Poots, do me a favor will you and lead Max the long way around this ridge?”
Poots mumbled an acknowledgement, her tone as solemn as always, but her movements as she descended the ridge were impressively swift.
“Okay,” Cal said, turning to Becker and Couter. “Let’s go take a peek.”
Up close, the ship appeared in even worse shape than the crash markings had suggested. The entire front end was torn apart, exposing the cockpit. Whoever had been piloting had definitely not fared well.
“Signs of life, Corporal?”
Franco was moving alongside the wreck, a holographic display emanating from the data pad on his wrist. “My pad’s playing up a bit, but the ship appears empty. Completely lifeless in fact. And I doubt the owners of a ship like this would have the tech to deflect even a basic scanner let alone a military one.”
Cal had to agree. In fact, he was surprised this heap of junk had even made it through space to arrive at the planet let alone function within its atmosphere.
“It’s a damn ghost ship,” Franco announced a moment later.
“Getting a little over dramatic, Corporal,” Becker said as she directed her pulse rifle through a large, ragged tear in the side of the ship’s hull.
“I don’t think so,” Franco replied. “A crash like this should have killed, or at least injured, some of the crew. I’m finding no bodies and only minimal signs of blood.”
“Perhaps they managed to abandon ship when they knew it was going down,” Poots suggested.
“Possibly,” Cal replied.
“Or perhaps the local wildlife did a thorough cleanup job,” Forester said.
“Whatever happened, we’ve no time to play detectives,” Cal said. “I want a quick visual check of the ship’s interior, and then, we’re moving on. Corporal, see if you can identify any tracks. If there were survivors, I want to know which direction they headed.”
Franco nodded and directed his display toward the ground to begin his sweep.
“Shall I
load the drone onto the ship?”
Cal turned to see Max looming over him. He stared up at the round eyes. “Which drone would that be, Max?”
The robot remained silent for a time—enough time for Cal to wonder whether he’d even taken the question on board. “What drone, Max?”
“I made an error,” Max said simply.
Cal shook his head. It was a little distressing seeing Max confused. The big combat robot had been a part of the team for as long as he had. He was a formidable fighter and had saved their backsides on countless occasions, often tipping the balance of a failing mission back in their favor. Cal wasn’t afraid to admit that he was fond of the big guy, plain and simple. Despite the laconic nature of the robot’s communication, there was definitely a personality lurking in there. But, over and above that, Max was a member of his team, and Cal didn’t like to see any of them struggling. “You seem confused, Max. I think the atmosphere on this planet is messing with your systems.”
“Yes. My systems are compromised. Should I shut myself down?”
“No,” Cal replied without hesitation. “Stick to your duties…as best you can.”
Max continued to look down at him as if contemplating his words. Cal wished he knew what was happening in that domed head of his. He was really starting to regret not having Malloy with him. The science officer could probably diagnose the problem in seconds. As the situation currently stood, however, all he had was his data pad, which gave him a host of confusing, continuously updating information regarding Max’s systems. Even if he could decipher it all, however, he suspected there was a fair bit going on in that metal head that even his data pad wasn’t privy to.
Eventually, Max answered with a simple, “Yes,” then turned and headed toward the front of the wreck.
Cal watched him go and spent a few moments considering possible ways in which he could improve or at least slow the progression of the robot’s failing mind and body. But of course there were none, at least not until they returned to the starship. Cal turned back to the wrecked craft and swung his rifle over his back where his armor’s smart clips took hold of it and fixed it in position. He looked up at the side of the wreck, made a quick assessment, then began to scale it. Having crashed on a high ridge, the roof of the ship would make a good vantage point.
The ascent was an easy one, and it wasn’t long before he reached the top. The skies were still clear, and the view almost took his breath away. The land ahead was becoming distinctly more alien. Grassy ridges rippled into the distance, each one peppered with specks of red moss and patches of vegetation literally bursting with color. A river cut a silvery line through the landscape, narrowing in parts to create a faster flow but still retained a lazy quality as it snaked its way toward the horizon. The huge neighboring planet had become increasingly dominant in the sky and was beginning to reflect the light from the two suns in such a way that it colored the entire landscape with a yellow hue. It was a strange light that only seemed to enhance the vista’s vibrancy.
As he bathed in the warm rays and breathed in the fresh air, Cal again found himself impressed with the planet’s beauty. Assuming you weren’t overly fond of technology and had no strong feelings toward snakes, he had to admit, Capsun 23 would make one hell of a place to live.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You look a little on edge, boss.”
Cal looked at Becker, who was wading through the thick vegetation next to him. He was getting a little fed up of people telling him that although in this particular instance, it was entirely accurate. He shrugged. “I guess I just miss the neat, grassy fields.”
Since leaving the wreck, they’d stuck to the river bank, which had led them most of the way to their destination. But two klicks back, they’d had to leave the river behind and were now faced with a valley brimming with knee-high shrubland.
“Worried those scavengers might be lying in wait…try an ambush?” Becker asked.
Cal shook his head. A decent ambush required a certain amount of intelligence, and Cal suspected that anyone who traveled through space in a ship that barely looked fit for a junkyard possessed very little. Franco’s investigations had suggested that at least five people had left the wreck and set off on foot in the direction of the research base—one more reason to feel concern for the civilians. Cal had deliberated whether this was merely coincidence or a deliberate action on their part. It was a tough one to call. If the scavengers had done the same as him and climbed on top of their ship, there was a good chance they’d have chosen this direction due to the increased plant life offering a greater chance of sustenance. And it made sense to stick to the river, which would have narrowed their choice of direction down to two. But there was also a chance they’d identified the research base before their ship went down.
“Worried something might try and snack on us then?” Becker asked. “Something that might actually be up to the job this time?”
“You never know.”
“Nothing very big could hide in here.” Becker kicked at the low vegetation surrounding her.
“Size isn’t everything, Sergeant. Besides, I’ve seen plants that like to eat soldiers, armor and all.” Cal looked up at the suns. They were sinking low in the sky, but it didn’t concern him; they were close enough to their destination that they’d easily make it before dark. He tapped his data pad, activating Sinclair’s map, and studied it for a moment. “We should get a clear view of the base from that far ridge.” He deactivated the map and pointed dead ahead, where a long crest on the opposite side of the valley cut across the horizon. He was pleased to see that the plant life ran dry near the top of the ridge, the terrain reverting back to grassland.
“So what are we waiting for?”
Cal rubbed at his chin and continued to survey the landscape. “I didn’t get to be the boss without a certain amount of caution,” he replied as he scanned the valley’s line; it ran in both directions as far as the eye could see.
“I think caution is overrated.”
“Oh?”
Becker nodded. “And I don’t think there’ll be any walking around this valley unless we want to spend another night under the stars…not unless your map says otherwise?”
Cal shook his head.
“And there’s certainly no turning back, so why are we wasting time with caution?”
Cal shot her an annoyed look, which only made her smile.
“It’s my job to point that out,” she said with a shrug.
Cal did his best to retain his frown. “Keep the chatter down, Sergeant.” He turned to the rest of the team. “We’re heading for that ridge. Stay sharp, and fingers on triggers.”
It wasn’t long before they were at the valley bottom. The pleasant breeze that they’d enjoyed on higher ground wasn’t finding its way this low. Instead, Cal and his team were treated to a constant, high-pitched buzzing created by an army of minuscule flying insects that swarmed in the still air. Cal didn’t bother trying to swat them; they were too small and numerous for his swishing hand to do any good. The insects weren’t the only annoyance; the vegetation was covered in a sort of sticky sap and damp dew that was fast finding its way into the joints of their armor. And with the shrubland being waist deep, it was becoming difficult to negotiate with any sort of speed.
The buzzing was setting Cal’s nerves on edge. Twice, he’d been sure that something had rubbed against his leg, but doing his best to part the vegetation and peer through the leaves and insects, nothing was revealed but roots and mud.
“I think I stepped on something.”
Cal glanced over at Forester. The medic had wandered into a particularly deep patch of shrubland and was having to hold his pulse rifle up to his shoulder level while he tried to part the foliage surrounding him.
“It’s just roots,” Becker informed him.
“No, it crunched.”
“Then it’s dry roots.”
Forester continued to push aside the thick leaves and leaned forward in an attempt to i
mprove his view.
Cal was about to tell him to forget it and move on when the medic straightened up and turned to him, his face a pale. “I think it could be bones.”
Cal gritted his teeth. “How big?”
Forester shook his head, looking as though he’d just been given a life sentence. “Big enough,” he said quietly. “Possibly human.”
Cal felt his heart quicken. “Okay, get moving.” He jerked his head, indicating for him to move back toward the others.
But Forester didn’t get the chance to obey. The medic let out a shocked cry as he disappeared beneath the thick foliage. Cal started forward but paused as the cry was abruptly cut short. He’d heard soldiers silenced like that before and knew only too well what it meant.
“Forester’s down,” Franco shouted, alerting those of the team who were further away.
Cal shot out a hand and grabbed Becker as she tried to move past him in Forester’s direction. “Hold up.”
Becker didn’t need to be ordered twice, but still, she felt like a coiled spring in his grip.
“Everyone stay still,” Cal ordered. Releasing his grip on Becker, he tapped his data pad. “Vitals, Medic J. Forester.” There was a brief moment where all that could be heard was the incessant buzzing of the insects. Then, the data pad emanated a simple, impassive reply. Deceased. Cal continued to grit his teeth, feeling his pulse thump harder in his neck. Holding up a hand, he signaled for everyone to stay put. Carefully, he crouched down until he was enveloped by the large leaves surrounding him and peered through the thicket of stalks. Forester’s body couldn’t be seen. There was something though. Something moving, disturbing the foliage, large and pale. Straightening up, Cal pressed one arm across Becker’s chest and backed them both away from the point of the attack. Once they were closer to the others, he used hand signals to move them on, slow and quiet.
Barely had they started to move when Poots yelled out in pain up ahead. Being in closest proximity, Franco lunged forward and managed to grab her before she too disappeared. Cal waded toward the pair as fast as he could. The private’s cries continued, loud enough that she almost drowned out Franco’s stream of expletives. With Becker’s help, Cal kicked aside some of the leaves and roots surrounding Poots. The snake’s pale head looked almost demonic amid the dark foliage. It was big. Bigger than any snake he’d ever seen on Earth or even Mars. Its jaws were completely wrapped around Poots’ armored thigh, and blood was already seeping out from the connective webbing above her knee joint. Cal thrust his weapon at the creature and tugged on the trigger.