Harper's Ten: Prequel to the Fractured Space Series

by J G Cressey

  Detaching a small dispenser from his armor, Franco looked up to the tunnel’s access panel situated directly above the door. The acid contained within the dispenser would dissolve the meld-glue in seconds. Seeing no chairs nearby, Cal quickly braced himself back against the door and, taking one last deep breath through his cloth, cupped his hands in front of him. Planting his right boot in the hand hold, Franco stretched up and just about managed to reach the panel. As the corporal got to work, Cal looked toward the blurred forms of Orisho and Wilson. Although the veterans had slowed, they were still managing a controlled fierceness in their swings. Cal was amazed how two men of advancing years could retain such momentum, particularly amid these fumes. But they weren’t superhuman, and the signs of fatigue were unmistakable.

  Moments later, a large, sizzling piece of metal clattered to the floor, and Franco climbed unceremoniously onto Cal’s shoulders to pull himself into the tunnel. Cal remained in position, but much to his annoyance, Durron was the first to try and take advantage. The scavenger didn’t get very far before Becker kicked him aside. Grabbing hold of Christie, she planted her foot in Cal’s interlocked hands and, with Campbell and Ebner’s help, lifted the girl up into Franco’s reaching hands. The state she was in, the girl did little to help, but fortunately, she was petite, and the corporal pulled her up with ease. Placing her cloth against Cal’s mouth, Becker allowed him another deep breath before deftly climbing the rest of the way in order to help haul up Ebner, Campbell, and Poots.

  Pryce went next, clumsy in his movements and wheezing noisily. The man wasn’t exactly a lightweight, and Cal had to use all his strength to heave him up.

  “Couter,” Cal said with a sharp, beckoning hand once Pryce was up.

  Couter turned from the gesture and grabbed hold of Durron, pulling him bodily off the floor. The scavenger seemed to be having trouble breathing—unsurprising, not least considering the kick Becker had planted in his ribs. The young private roughly shoved him into position, and between them, he and Cal pushed him up to the hatch.

  “Okay, Private, get your ass up there. That’s an order,” Cal said once Durron was out of his hands.

  This time, Couter didn’t hesitate. The young man was heavy but agile and had no trouble hauling himself up.

  “Orisho, Wilson, let’s go.” Cal grabbed his cloth from the floor and sucked in another breath before wiping his eyes. The two men were still putting up a good fight, but their strength and stamina looked close to failing them. Barely missing a swing, Orisho took hold of an idle chair and flung it in Cal’s direction. No words were necessary; Cal knew exactly what was meant by the deed, and he wasn’t about to waste time debating. Planting the chair upright, he stepped onto it and launched himself toward the hatch—the quicker he was up there, the quicker the two men would follow. Multiple reaching hands grasped him and pulled. “Okay, I’m up,” he shouted as he twisted himself around in the tunnel and leaned as far out of the gap as he dared. “Now, get your asses in gear.”

  Orisho and Wilson began to fall back, but their movements were sluggish. Even with his worsening vision, Cal could see that both men had smaller snakes attached to their legs, aggressive in their attempts to breach the gaps in their armor. But the little attackers were inconsequential when compared to the sizable beasts that were now lingering beyond the dwindling fires.

  Cal reached back and shouted for a chem-bomb. Almost immediately, one was pushed into his hand. Glad the giver had already had the foresight to pull the pin, he took a couple of seconds to consider his aim then tossed the explosive into the center of the room. The detonation countdown seemed to last an eternity, but then the flames burst out, and their effect on the remaining snakes was instant. He reached back again. “Your rifle, Corporal.” Again, his request was fulfilled quickly, and moments later, he was peering through the weapon’s sights and pulling the trigger. It was hard to know how much he was helping. His eyes were watering so badly that he suspected half his shots were hitting creatures that were already dead. The floor was literally covered with pale flesh and dark, blue blood. So much so that Orisho and Wilson were having trouble negotiating their retreat. They were breathing hard and staggering, seeming confused as they tried to orient themselves.

  “Here,” Cal shouted. “Come on, damn it.” He had half a mind to drop back into the room to drag them to the hatch, but he wasn’t faring too well himself, and he suspected he’d only slow things down. He continued to peer through the sights, blinking away the tears and trying to master his overwhelming urge to cough up his burning lungs. All the while, he searched for threatening movement among the dead, pale flesh.

  Then, something happened, something that confused his already muddled senses: two loud thuds followed by an almighty crash. The dented door leading to the stairwell burst off its runners and flew across the room. The huge slab of metal hit Orisho with the force of a wrecking drone and dropped him instantly. Cal barely had time to process what had happened before a huge snake, its head as wide as his arm span, erupted from the dark stairwell. The beast moved with frightening speed, lunging forward to clamp its massive jaws around Orisho’s unconscious body. Cal heard Wilson roar, but he tried to remain focused on his own attack, unloading multiple shots from the rifle, doing his best to aim for the creature’s eyes. But even if his vision hadn’t been failing him, the shots were near impossible. The snake was in constant motion, ferocious in its movements. And already, it was retreating, barreling its way back toward the dark stairwell, taking its prize with it. Wilson charged forward, his sword biting into the beast’s neck. But the weapon seemed distressingly ineffectual. The veteran rushed at it again, this time making a desperate grab for Orisho’s limp arm, but one forceful jerk of the creature’s massive head sent him reeling.

  As abruptly as it began, it was over.

  The snake was gone, as was Orisho, the stairwell now just a gaping, empty shell.

  Cool air funneled through the broken doorway, sweeping away the fumes like some perverse consolation for the brutal tragedy. For a moment, the room seemed incredibly still and silent in the wake of the violence. The other snakes seemed to have suddenly disappeared, perhaps shying away in the presence of their far larger kin. Slowly, Wilson picked himself up and moved to retrieve his sword. He looked like a man whose bones had turned to lead, his head dropped toward the ground, forced down by crippling anguish.

  “Wilson…” Cal was about to order him to climb up to the hatch, but the look on the man’s face as he turned to look at him swept the order away. There was no anger there, just deep sadness. Cal knew what the veteran was going to do, and although he felt an overwhelming urge to persuade him otherwise, he completely understood it. There was no way that Orisho had survived—they both knew it—not in the jaws of such primal aggression. But the two men were brothers, a bond between them strengthened by a lifetime of events that Cal could barely imagine.

  Cal locked eyes with his teammate for a few more seconds. Then, a simple nod was all that was shared in the way of farewell before the veteran ran to the stairwell and disappeared into the dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Cal held up his glow-tube and did his best to illuminate their escape route. Fortunately, the services tunnel had been designed with maintenance in mind, and even with their armor on, there was still space to easily crawl on their hands and knees. Franco was already positioning a heavy slab of detached grating over the open hatch while Couter readied himself with the meld glue. The patch up would set in seconds and, with any luck, would prevent pursuit. Awkwardly turning about in the tight space, Cal assessed the tunnel. There was a swathe of dark tubing and a network of pipes intertwined above their heads that had an unfortunate resemblance to twisting serpents. Doing his best not to make the tubes come alive in his mind, he glanced around at his companions. They were looking back at him questioningly. It didn’t take long, however, before his expression and a shake of the head gave them all the answer they needed. They were fewer now, and if they
didn’t get moving soon, they’d likely be fewer still.

  Detaching his water canister, Cal gave his throat and eyes a quick cleanse before passing it on. The water worked wonders, and soon, the gloomy tunnel became that much clearer. As far as he could make out, their choice of direction was clear-cut. The tunnel only ran in two directions, but the route behind them had been severely damaged, compressed to a point that would make it impossible to crawl through. Perhaps having seen this, Durron was already clambering off in the other direction. Cal wasn’t bothered—if anything, the scavenger’s impatience would simply alert them of problems ahead, an early warning system in the form of his screams. Pryce looked as though he wanted to follow but seemed reluctant to try and push his way past Becker.

  “Okay, let’s follow the idiot,” Cal said as Franco and Couter finished their work on the patch job. “Poots, you okay under your own steam?”

  “Not a problem,” the private replied, her strange optimism born from disaster still holding out. “Doubt I’ll manage while holding this though,” she said, passing the old pistol to Franco.

  Franco didn’t look overly impressed with the little weapon but took it nonetheless.

  “Okay, Corporal, lead the way,” Cal said.

  One by one, they set off, crawling through the tunnel like a procession of bugs through a drain. Cal hung back with the expectation of having to help Becker and Campbell with Christie. Fortunately, it wasn’t needed. Cal couldn’t say why, but for the first time, the girl seemed capable of moving without encouragement or aid. Perhaps the tight confines of the tunnel offered her some amount of mental comfort. Whatever the reason, Cal was glad of it. The girl wasn’t demonstrating a fast crawl by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly faster than dragging her. Cal followed without relinquishing his grip on the rifle. He felt a touch of guilt at having commandeered the weapon from Franco, but the feeling was fleeting; there was no way he was going to be at the back of the line in a tunnel like this without a trigger against his finger. Sure, the corporal was at the front, which was arguably as bad, but he at least had Durron to use as a convenient shield.

  For the first time ever, Cal found himself frustrated by their Corrian armor. In nearly every aspect of its design, the armor was exceptional and always lived up to its highly regarded name. When it came to stealth while crawling through a metal tunnel, however, it fell woefully short. Every clink and clunk and scrape sounded horribly amplified and seemed to echo far longer than was reasonable. Cal cursed the noise. At least his eyes were continuing to recover, and his throat had settled to a dull burn. The air in the tunnel was far from fresh, but it felt straight from an alpine vista compared to hellish fumes they’d just consumed.

  Doing his best to keep track of their location, Cal took advantage of the monotonous crawl by assessing his next move. First and foremost, he wanted to get them a good distance from the last attack. Then, once they reached the next access hatch leading to one of the numerous stairwells, he thought it best to simply order a stop and restart their silent waiting game. So far, the tunnel seemed blessedly free from snakes, and he wanted to take advantage of the little miracle. Assuming their situation stayed that way, the wait would end in one of two ways. Either the warmth of day would roll in and banish the snakes or their rescue would arrive and it would be time to endure a little more chaos.

  Even tucked away in this tunnel, Cal was confident they would hear the approach of a ship, especially an attack ship. They were damn loud, and a rescue team would hover close enough to shake the base like a rattle. But how long would it be until the craft succumbed to the atmosphere? Cal couldn’t risk the loop starting again. If it arrived, they’d have to get to it fast and take their chances with the snakes. The rescuers would undoubtedly scan the base and track their movements. But even if the ship’s location scanners screwed up early, a chem-bomb out in the open would be enough to alert them of their presence. The ship’s weapons and the heat from its thrusters should keep any attackers at bay. Then, this damn hellhole could start to become a distant, painful memory.

  Cal suddenly paused in his crawl. A creaking of metal had begun that was loud enough to pull him from his musings. It seemed too loud to be caused by the weight of a human. His heart began to quicken.

  The noise had caused them all to stop, even Durron and Christie.

  The creaking continued and soon amplified into a deep groan that reverberated through the tunnel, giving the impression they’d crawled unwittingly into the belly of some gigantic, metallic beast. Christ, here we go again, Cal thought bitterly. Nothing was moving in the darkness, but something was definitely close. Then the tunnel began to shift, slowly sinking downward as if subjected to some formidable magnetic force. Cal gripped his rifle hard and tried to calm his heart. Had the visitor detected them? Or was it just passing by? Ahead of him, Becker slowly moved forward to hover over Christie, ready to silence the girl should it be needed.

  Cal tried to will the beast away, but the groaning and shifting increased exponentially, to the point where it hurt the ears and shook bones. Bracing himself against some overhead tubing, he felt a powerful need to shoot something. Not being able to see that something, however, was proving a serious antagonist to the urge.

  Suddenly, the tunnel began to buckle—not simply above them or below them but everywhere, as if a great fist had clamped around its exterior and was squeezing it into submission.

  Christie screamed then, but Becker didn’t quiet her—she wasn’t the only one making noise; this little game was up, and they all knew it. A mental picture of the snake that must have wrapped itself around the exterior of the tunnel flashed into Cal’s mind. It had to be at least the size of the one that had taken Orisho to exert such force. He did his best to retreat the way he’d come. Becker followed him, awkwardly dragging Christie with her. Unable to help with the girl in the fast-shrinking confines of the tunnel, all Cal could do was give them room, but very quickly, it became a tangle of struggling limbs. Beyond Becker, Campbell and Pryce were also in a desperate retreat as a bundle of hard tubing was forced down on their heads. Cal heard Couter, Ebner, and Franco shouting as they retreated in the opposite direction, but seconds later, their voices were cut off as the tunnel was compressed into a tight thread of mangled metal that divided the team in two.

  With the roof pressing down on him, Pryce began roaring at Campbell and Becker to move faster. Cal didn’t blame him, but already, they were doing their utmost not to be crushed to a pulp. Frustrated in his inability to help Becker, Cal considered bracing his rifle in an attempt to slow the squeeze, but with the pressure being exerted, he doubted it would make any difference and may simply end up being one more obstacle. His mind raced in search of a solution. There was a bulkhead a little further back. Perhaps its structure would prove more robust.

  But reaching it was not their fate.

  The metal beneath Becker and Christie began to tear as the stresses on the abused tunnel took their final toll. Lunging forward, Cal grabbed Becker’s armored shoulder plate a mere second before both her and Christie fell through the rupture. Determined not to relinquish his hold, Cal grunted in pain as the weight of the two women pulled him partway through the gap and almost separated his arm from its socket. Fortunately, the spear strapped to his back became wedged into the side of the tunnel, preventing him from spilling out headfirst. Partially suspended, he crooked his neck to see Becker swinging in his grip. The sergeant was struggling to retain her own hold on Christie, who was wriggling in panic. The space below was a wide, dark corridor. Thankfully, its smooth floor appeared blessedly free from snakes.

  As he tried to haul the two women back into the tunnel, Cal felt a gentle breeze of cool air tease his skin—somewhere, the corridor was breached, exposed to the outside world. As this realization hit him, he also became aware of pale scales slowly undulating in his peripheral vision. It seemed the snake that had wrapped itself around the tunnel was as big as its ridiculous strength suggested. His heart
thudding, Cal doubled his efforts and did his best to ignore the massive predator next to him. If he’d had the inclination to do so, he could have easily reached out and touched the beast. Fortunately, it was barely moving, seeming in no great hurry to uncoil itself and seek them out—perhaps recovering from its herculean effort of crushing its perch.

  Again, Cal tried to pull the two women up, but the angle at which he was suspended meant he couldn’t reach Becker with his left hand, and with his right, it was all he could do just to keep a hold of them. He turned his head to view the corridor. They were close to its end, and he could see that the snake had quite literally pinched off the tunnel just before it entered the next observation room. There were doors leading through, but they were shut tight and were unlikely to open in a hurry; not without Franco’s expertise. Cal heaved again, trying to remain silent as he did so. Their best option was to get back into the tunnel, but try as he might, each effort was falling further short of the last.

  Then, Campbell was by his side, stretching through the gap as far as she dared. “I can’t reach her,” she said in a panicked whisper. “If I lean any further, I’ll fall.”

  “Pryce, help us,” Cal hissed. “Hold onto Campbell.”

  They only received an unintelligible grunt in reply.

  As Campbell tried to reposition herself, the tunnel began to vibrate. The snake was on the move, gradually shifting along the shaft like it was some sort of giant branch.