by S. A. Lusher
Trent could only hope that the new infusion of men with guns were keeping the locals busy. Drake explained that the plan was surprisingly simple. All they had to do was crawl up a ventilation shaft into the detention center, spring Trevor and then crawl back down it. They could continue to use the underground, since it seemed to be mostly deserted.
Even as Trent reflected on this, something flew past his faceplate and embedded itself in the wall. They'd come to a large room that looked like a heat exchange, a convergent point where a lot of the base's heat was routed. High overhead, crawling along the ceiling, Trent spied a clutch of Spitters, nearly a dozen of them.
“Fuck!” he snapped, raising his rifle and putting a hole in one of them.
It shrieked and detached from the ceiling, plummeting thirty feet to its death, where it slammed into the ground, spraying black gore everywhere. The others immediately opened fire as well, punching holes through the insectile bodies. As Trent put down another two, he sensed something behind him, spun and sighted a Harvester.
It was coming for him, mouth open, teeth gleaming in the dull light, shrieking. He put three bullets through its mouth, watched the back of its head burst and then watched it trip and roll to a stop just an arm's-length short of his feet. He went back to the Spitters, but Drake and the others had managed to mop the rest of them up.
“So much for the eye of the hurricane,” Gideon murmured.
They kept going, passing through the heat exchange. Trent took point again, reloading his weapon. They moved into a network of narrow corridors. After a little while, Drake called for them to stop. Trent spied a ladder just up ahead.
“That's it,” Drake said after a moment's thought.
“I'll go first,” Trent replied, letting the rifle hang by the sling as he hurried over to the ladder. The others followed.
Trent went up, rung by rung, trying to listen for activity. He reached the hatch at the top, hit the activation button and pulled out his pistol, pointing it up. After a long moment of inactivity, he hauled himself up and looked around. He'd come into an empty security center. Trent came out, then turned and offered a helping hand to Drake and Tristan.
“I'll stay here, make sure nothing comes up after you,” Gideon said.
“Got it,” Trent replied.
Drake moved over to the security workstation and the bank of monitors that showed nothing worth seeing. He worked the controls for a moment, then chuckled.
“Well...seems they've got their hands full. Clutch of those lizard assholes have broken in and they've gone to deal with it. Perfect timing. Come on.”
The trio left the security center and moved down the corridor. Drake led the way and opened a door that led them to another corridor, this one lined with cell doors. Drake counted them off as he walked, found the appropriate one and opened it.
“Come on, hurry up,” he said.
Trevor emerged a second later. He was out of his suit, though he looked immensely relieved.
“Where's your suit?” Trent asked.
“I don't know, they made me take it off. It might be around here...”
“We don't have time, those assholes could be back at any moment,” Tristan said.
“Fine, let's go.”
They led Trevor back to the hatch and encountered no resistance, though they heard a great deal of gunfire somewhere else in the area. They went back down into the underground, one by one. Trent secured the hatch after him and slid down the ladder.
“I have a lot to tell you,” Trevor said.
“Great, let's hear it,” Trent replied.
“We need to get somewhere safe, first. Those guys mean business.”
They found a disused storage room and locked the door behind them. Trent felt like this was really stop-and-go, but, he supposed, that's how it went sometimes. Trevor sat on a crate and seemed to take a moment to collect himself.
Finally, he began. “Those men who have come for us, they're called Dark Operations. They're government,” he said. “My corporation, and many others, have had a lot of run-ins with them over the past couple of years. They've been doing a lot of shady shit, shadier than usual, I mean. They're some kind of ultra-secret intelligence and action branch of the Galactic Alliance. I imagine they're here for the same reason we are. Cyr tech. Anything to get an edge over the hundreds of other big players out there in the galaxy...Anyway, that's not really the important part. Now, I get the feeling that you guys all want to bug out. Am I right?”
“Fuck yeah, you're right,” Trent replied.
“We can't.”
“Says who?” Gideon asked.
“You'll all say it when I tell you what I have to tell you, at least I hope. This isn't just some biological research facility full of experiments gone wrong. I mean, it is, but it's worse than that. There's...something here. Something that I think the Cyr always intended to destroy, but never actually got around to. It's far, far more dangerous than anything we've seen so far.”
“Well...what is it?” Tristan asked.
“In the files I looked through, it's known only as The Presence. It's in the farthest research building. The whole building was dedicated to holding it. They were translating the Cyr databases. As far as we can tell, we don't know what it is or where it came from. The Cyr might have had more of an idea, but most of their information was trying to get the message across as to just how fucking dangerous this thing is.”
“Quit stalling, how dangerous?” Trent asked.
“If it got out, it could wipe away the whole of civilization,” Trevor said firmly.
There was a silence, then Trent let out a long, low whistle.
“How?” he asked.
“They didn't say. But the point is that they finally had a way to kill it. I think that's the main reason this place was constructed. The base comes with a demolecularizer. Basically, it vaporizes everything inside a certain radius, enough to take out every structure here. Like the lockdown, it's a three-part system. Two manual overrides have to be engaged simultaneously in Research One and Research Two, then a third switch has to be flipped in Research Three. Then we'd better be booking some serious ass, because nothing's making it out after that.”
A long bout of silence played out.
“You've got to be shitting me,” Drake said finally.
“I'm afraid not. That's about the size of it.”
“What about Dark Ops? They aren't going to let us just walk around and do this ourselves. And we can't really expect the creatures to keep them busy for all that long,” Drake asked.
“I've got a plan about that. I was thinking we could get below the command building, which seems to be where they've set up shop, and kill the power. It'll keep them out of our hair long enough to do what needs doing.”
“Speaking of power, weren't we supposed to lose it at some point?” Trent asked.
“Yeah, a little while ago, but I guess Dark Ops fixed it.”
Trent fell silent, thinking. After a moment, he realized that everyone was looking at him. He frowned and regarded them.
“What?”
“You seem to be the guy who knows what he's doing,” Trevor replied.
Trent shook his head. “No way. I'm pretty sure everyone here is smarter than I am.”
“Fine then,” Drake said with a smile. “You're the guy who's going to take charge so that when and if things go seriously wrong, you get to hold the blame.”
Trent chuckled and shook his head. “Fine, let's get this show on the road.”
Chapter 13
–The Darkness–
“So, I kind of feel like we're taking this all without much in the way of explanation,” Trent said. He was leading the squad down another dank tunnel of pipes and metal. Something had been murdered, quite violently, in the corridor and bloodstained the walls, floor and ceiling. To make matters worse, one of the pipes had burst, filling the area with a dim haze.
“I don't know how much more I can explain, honestly,” Trevor rep
lied.
“It's just...this thing, whatever it is, that's in Research Three. I mean, is it really that powerful? Do we even know what it is? What it looks like? What it's even capable of?”
“No, unfortunately,” Trevor said, sounding uncomfortable with his lack of knowledge. “Even if we had a lot more time and money and resources, I'm honestly not sure we could even figure it out. What little the Cyr did know about this thing all seemed to indicate some kind of apocalypse scenario. Galactic extinction.”
“So why the fuck didn't they just kill it if they had the capacity?” Gideon asked.
“I don't know...maybe they weren't even sure it would work. Or maybe they got it all set up and died before they had the chance to kill it,” Trevor suggested.
“I don't know,” Tristan said. “This place seems pretty extensive. It's obvious that it wasn't built just to handle that one thing. It seems like they were trying to study it.”
“If they knew how dangerous it was, why the fuck even bother wasting time studying it?” Drake asked.
Trevor shrugged. “Maybe they only found out after they had studied it for a little while? Or, hell, why not politics? Maybe some wanted to destroy it, others wanted to study it, gain its power, whatever power there might be to gain.”
“Fucking politics,” Trent muttered. “Always fucking politics.”
“Does anyone find it strange that this thing survived so long? Most Cyr stuff has been dated to about two hundred thousand years ago,” Tristan said.
“Just another thing to make whatever this is that much creepier,” Drake said after a moment's contemplation.
“Either way, it doesn't really have much bearing on our situation. However the scenario played out hundreds of thousands of years ago, we still have a single objective: kill it,” Trevor said firmly.
“Speaking of killing...what do you know about how we mercs were going to be handled after we got out of this place?” Trent asked.
Trevor hesitated. “I'm not sure, honestly. Though I'm willing to bet that they'd just hoped you'd die in the process of completing the objective. Then, whoever made it out alive, they'd probably kill you on the way back with gas or poison or something.”
“Charming,” Tristan murmured.
“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Trent said.
Trevor raised his hands defensively. “Hey, it's not my call! If it were up to me, we'd all go home happy and safe and rich.”
“That reminds me, which company do you actually work for?”
“Guess it doesn't really matter now,” Trevor said after a moment. “Ascension Inc.”
“Those guys?” Drake asked. “But they're a medical corporation.”
“Yeah. I guess they thought they might unlock some new cures or treatments or something out here. Although honestly any company would have come out here, looking for treasure.”
“How the hell did you guys find this place?” Gideon asked.
“I don't really know, but I imagine that every company has an investment in deep-space probes. It was probably just chance.”
Something growled up ahead. It was very deep, very guttural, almost like something that may have come from prehistoric times when genuine beasts roamed the Earth. Trent tucked his rifle tighter into his shoulder and slowly crept up to the edge of the corridor they were in, motioning for the others to stay back.
He peered cautiously into the next room. It was a larger room, a messy network of pipes and equipment. The light was very bad. For whatever reason, the primary source was out, and all that was left was the soft glow of emergency lighting and the dim illumination that came from the workstations and equipment.
Something made a noise, a rapid huffing sound, like something might be sniffing the air. Trent swallowed, feeling his body respond to the threat like a caveman might have tens of thousands of years ago. There were heavy, plodding footfalls. Trent could feel cold fear drop into the pit of his stomach.
His body only went colder when he realized there were two sets of footfalls.
“Gideon-” he began.
That's when it happened. Something tall and thick with muscle was suddenly charging towards him. It smashed into him and sent him flying back into the hallway where he crashed into Trevor and Tristan, knocking them over in a thrashing tangle of limbs. Trent heard something roar with all the fury of an oncoming asteroid, then the gunfire began.
As he scrambled to his feet, he heard the telltale rattle of Gideon's monstrous machine gun. He caught sight of something standing in the doorway, something immense that seemed to fill it. He saw a hint of fur and a blur of teeth, then the new monster was picked up and forcibly thrown back into the room it had come from.
Trent rushed forward as Gideon pushed his way into the room. There was more machine gun fire. Trent burst onto the scene and saw another one making for Gideon, who had run out of bullets. Trent flipped his rifle to full auto and cut loose. There was a roar as his array of bullets slammed into the hulking figure.
He emptied his magazine and staggered the beast, but it was still standing, huffing heavily. Drake and Tristan emerged then, adding their own gunfire to the assault. That did it. The thing flew backwards and joined its brethren on the floor.
The survivors played their flashlights over the pair of beasts. Trent realized, after a long moment, that these must be the Bugbears. They were huge things, easily reaching eight or nine feet in height. They vaguely resembled gorillas, though their shape and stature were definitely more humanoid. The creepiest part, aside from the jet-black fur and the black blood, was the jaw. It was split down the bottom and hung open, revealing an interior that seemed to be composed entirely of teeth.
Nothing but rows and rows of razor teeth.
“Jesus,” Drake whispered.
“Another new asshole on the playground,” Gideon murmured. “This is great.”
“Come on, we need to keep moving,” Trent said.
* * * * *
They came to the power center without seeing much else. Trent dispatched a handful of Spitters along the way, and he had the feeling that the local nasties had their attention focused on the men in dark armor up top. Which was fine by him. When they got to the main power relay center, they found it empty. Trevor hurried up to the primary workstation once the mercs had cleared it and settled in, doing his thing.
Trent walked slowly around the perimeter of the room. He felt lethargy tugging at him. They'd been at it for only a couple of hours, but he was emotionally and physically tired by now. Hours of this nightmarish freak show. He wanted to sit down for a minute, get a drink, take a nap. But whatever, he could keep going.
He made himself straighten up.
“Really looking forward to hitting Mezzanine after this,” Gideon said.
They looked over at him.
“Oh yeah?” Trent asked.
“Yep. There's this resort, a five-star place, right on the beach, man. This perfect, golden beach that's beset on all sides by the clearest blue water. I've been there several times before. It's so fucking peaceful. You can drink in peace and silence, read a book, and there always seems to be someone who's up for a good game of chess. I tell you, there's nothing quite like that old cliché: lying on a beach beneath a golden sun, sipping some booze. Nothing too heavy, you know? Something light, get a soft, pleasant buzz going on...”
“You know, you aren't a typical mercenary,” Drake said after a moment's silence.
“Goddamn right, I'm not. I'm eighty six and I plan to hit one hundred in style. I might consider retiring once one thirty rolls around. I did that whole party scene for like thirty years, man. Sleep with all the whores, get fucking blitzed out of your mind on a sixteen-day binge. Do all the drugs, hit all the clubs, get into all the fights...shit man, it gets old. You might not think that now, but it does. I love peace and quiet.”
“Fuck, I hope I don't live to see middle age,” Trent muttered.
Gideon stared at him for a long moment, then let out a long laugh. “You say
that now, but you'll see it my way once you're on my side of the looking glass.”
“Maybe,” Trent admitted after a moment. “Maybe.”
They glanced over as Trevor began laughing. “Oh, man. I think I really fucked those guys over.”
“Oh yeah?” Tristan asked as they gathered around.
“Yep. Just opened every door in the structure above us. If there's anything unfriendly up there, it now has access to every room in the building. Are we all ready for darkness?”
He glanced around. Everyone responded by flipping on the flashlights mounted on their suits and their weapons. He nodded.
“Good...here we go.”
Trevor hit a button. They were all immediately plunged into darkness.
* * * * *
“This is it,” Trevor said.
They stood at a fork in the tunnels. One veering off to the left, the other to the right. Neither passageway looked particularly safe. One was bathed in blood, the other was lit by a crimson strobing effect from broken emergency lighting.
“Fantastic,” Trent murmured.
“Remember the plan?” Drake asked.
Everyone responded affirmatively. Trent had made sure everyone knew what to do, just in case one or more of them died, then they split up. Trent wanted to say something to Drake, he always did at moments like this, but being a mercenary meant that you put up with this shit. And, pretty often, you put up with it silently.
So, he just caught the man's eyes, nodded once, received a similar nod in return, and then they went their separate ways.
He and Tristan made their way down the passageway. For a long moment, they were silent. Then it occurred to Trent that it was something of a miracle they had both made it alive this long and that maybe that miracle might not be ongoing. He supposed he had a few questions for his fellow merc, but only one really came to mind.
“Why'd you sleep with me?” he asked, his voice echoing in the lonely darkness.