by B. V. Larson
Three quick strides brought me to Carlos next. He was lying in a different pose. His face plate was open and his brown eyes stared up at me. Even though he was watching, I found it a little easier to kill him—don’t ask me why.
The first volley caught me then, knocking me from my feet and tossing me ass-over-teakettle right up the ramp. I was broken, and my armor had at least four smoking holes punched into it.
I’d taken nine massive slugs, but I struggled to my knees and approached Hudson, the last of the captives. I can’t tell you how much pain I was in. I’m not really sure anyone can when they’re already dead but still moving. My body was functioning to some extent, not having shut down completely yet, but for the most part I was numb.
The last slaver made whooping noises. I’m not really sure if he was cheering on the gunners, or impressed by my performance, or just plain happy to be alive.
Crawling, I reached Hudson, but I didn’t get my blade into him. I tried, oh Lord, how I tried, but my body just wouldn’t obey me anymore.
I rolled onto my back, going limp. The sky above was lit by the harsh light of Zeta Herculis, but there was no beauty in the sight for me.
A weight fell upon my wrists then. A vast, impossible weight. I saw with fading consciousness that the last slaver had come and placed his foot upon my wrist, to keep me from cutting him. Cautiously, curiously, his face loomed over mine.
He asked me a question then, something in his strange warped tongue. I didn’t understand it, but I knew that I’d intrigued him. He looked into my dying eyes with a squinting, uncomprehending gaze.
“Maybe,” I rasped, “I’ll get a chance to explain things to you later on, freak.”
And then…I died.
-22-
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back in a bunker that the legion had dug in the midst of a stack of boulders. The bunker gave people a chance to recuperate after revival, but I knew its critical function was to protect the revival machine itself. Nearby, the revival team worked feverishly to revive everyone who’d been lost on this very long day.
“Are you insane?” demanded Carlos. He was standing over me, glaring down at my naked body on a makeshift cot.
I blinked, barely able to process his anger. I barely knew who I was yet—but memories were drifting back to me.
Dying and coming back to life was kind of like waking up suddenly in the middle of a dream. Sometimes you weren’t quite sure how to sort through the stuff that had actually happened, and the stuff that was only ghostly echoes inside your head.
“You’re saying you killed me so I wouldn’t be captured?” Carlos asked after I’d explained my decision to him. “That’s just unreal. I don’t buy it—not for a second, McGill. You’re either full of shit or certifiable. Maybe both.”
“Of course that’s why he did it,” Kivi said. She was sitting on a rock nearby dressing herself.
Anne Grant, overworked and haggard, waved at the two of them irritably. “Take McGill out of here. He’s a good grow—get him dressed and out of my bunker.”
“Kicking us out already?” Carlos asked. “I thought you were sweet on him. At least, that’s what he says.”
Anne growled at him and pointed toward the exit. I followed her gesture, and a white square of light hurt my freshly-grown eyes. It was strange to think these eyes had never experienced sunlight before.
A few moments later, I stumbled out into the open with Carlos and Kivi on either side of me propping me up.
“I was hoping you’d come out with a bad grow,” Carlos complained. “I was going to volunteer for the grim but very necessary duty of recycling you, you murdering sack.”
Getting tired of him faster than usual, I shook his hands off my elbow.
“I had to kill you,” I said, slurring my words slightly. “I had to, and my only regret was that I didn’t get to poor Hudson fast enough.”
“I still don’t buy it,” Carlos said. “You forget, McGill, I saw your face. I was looking right up, and I saw a bloodthirsty leer as you drove that force-blade through me. I felt it, too. We were paralyzed, but we could still see and feel everything!”
I frowned. “Sorry about that.”
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you? Some little part of you has always wanted to kill me. You saw your chance, with an excuse all lined up, and you went for it. I saw your eyes.”
“I don’t remember,” I lied.
“Bastard.”
Kivi put her head against my shoulder.
“Well…” she said. “I’m glad you did it, James. What if that ship takes off right now? What if everyone aboard is hauled away never to be seen again? They’ll be captives forever in some vile prison, warped into those monsters they’ve bred from human flesh. I don’t want to be forced to have children and to watch them grow into genetically-modified slaves.”
“You’re welcome,” I told her.
Carlos made a farting sound with his mouth and stomped away. I didn’t care. I knew he’d get over it eventually. He always did. He knew I’d done the right thing—he was just upset that it had to happen at all. Carlos always had to blame someone when things went badly—anyone other than himself. He was a good enough friend when you really needed one, but I hoped he never made it into the officer ranks.
I liked Kivi’s reaction much better. She gave me a little kiss and helped me into a fresh suit of armor, talking as she did. I learned we’d been ordered to report to Graves himself the second our bodies were operating normally.
To my surprise, the first thing Graves did was order us back to the bunker with the revival machine. We’d been tasked with escorting the machine and its operating staff on a circuitous route around the lake. Fortunately, we didn’t have to carry the thing by hand. It weighed over a ton, and even with our suits it wouldn’t have been easy. We were provided two drone marchers which up until now had been kept in reserve. Most of the drones were in other valleys assigned to other cohorts. These two, however, had been aboard our lifter from the start. They’d been used to transport the revival machine off the lifter, and had thus been spared when the ship blew up.
I marched with the rest of the revived group ahead of Centurion Graves and the bio people. We took the long way around the central lake so as to avoid the alien ship on the other side.
The drones were four-legged machines that resembled thick-legged pigs. We called them “pigs” or “piggies”. They had a barrel-like central torso, four heavy legs and no head at all. They navigated with a mix of input from high-frequency sonar and scanning cameras in cages along the sides. Once in a while, I heard a little singing sound, which I knew was the sonar. But for the most part, I had to listen to their engines and those churning legs, which put up quite a racket.
We were all glad to have the piggies with us even if they were kind of noisy. They carried the revival machine strung up between them like it was no big deal. The only clue they gave concerning the tremendous weight they were bearing was the depth of their footprints. The pads on the bottom of their feet were about as big around as that of an average elephant, but they sunk into the soft ground anyway. When the drones pulled those feet back up and out, there was a terrific squelching noise.
After about two hours of marching through the odd growths on the west side of the lake, we were within sight of the rest of the cohort. They’d taken the time to build up a small fortification—puff-crete mostly hidden behind a ridge in the landscape. From here, they couldn’t be hit by direct beams from the ship.
For their part, the aliens had stopped coming after Legion Varus. When we’d retreated from the area of their ship, they seemed to lose interest. They were now scouring the cliffs again searching for captives among the colonists.
Reaching picket lines posted in the forest, we identified ourselves and were hustled through to the main camp. The piggies picked up the pace, almost as if they knew they’d be allowed to rest soon.
The camp was on full alert. I could tell the cohort hadn’t been idl
e. They’d been digging and building. Puff-crete bunkers were everywhere, buried in the soft dark soil around the lake. We delivered the revival unit, and a team of bio people took over. They hustled and heaved, carting the machine down into the black, gaping mouth of a bunker they’d built specifically for this purpose. To me, they looked like ants dragging a kill down their hole to be consumed.
Afterward, we formed up with the rest of our unit. I felt relieved. I’d never liked being off on my own with just Leeson and a few troops defending the lifter. Now that the lifter had been destroyed, the commanders had decided we’d all be better off here in one central encampment which couldn’t be hit by the enemy’s big cannon. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I was happy not to be in a smaller group.
“McGill,” Graves said, waving me to come closer the moment he saw me.
I stumped over, and he eyed me critically.
“You’re one crazy son-of-a-bitch,” he said without humor or anger. “I heard about what you did right there on their doorstep.”
“Uh…thank you, Centurion.”
He snorted. “It wasn’t meant as a compliment. You killed your own men after killing most of the skinnies that caught you? Did I get that right?”
“Skinnies? You must be talking about those tall, freaky-looking guys, right? We’ve been calling them slavers. They seem to specialize in capturing humans. They can sniff us out wherever we hide.”
“Skinnies, slavers—whatever. Nasty freaks, no matter what you call them. But let’s get back to the part about killing your own team, shall we? That’s not exactly in our standard playbook—you know that, right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m aware that I didn’t follow regs. But I wanted my people to be revived and to come back into the fight. If we’d all been dragged aboard that ship, we might have been transported into space and end up on another planet indefinitely.”
“So…no regrets on your part?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“On the contrary,” I said. “I have plenty of regrets. I wish I’d killed all the skinnies right off—that would have been a much better outcome. And sometimes I wish I’d signed with a different legion: A legion that doesn’t specialize in such deadly missions.”
Graves rewarded me with a rare, rumbling laugh. “Such a bullshitter. I’m talking about killing your own team. No regrets there?”
“That? No, sir. They’re happy with the outcome too—just ask them. My only regret in that regard is that I didn’t make it to Hudson in time to finish him along with the rest. I can’t imagine what the aliens are doing to him even now inside the guts of that ship.”
Graves’ eyes drifted toward the vessel in the east. We couldn’t see it directly, as the ridge was in the way, but we all knew it was there. It didn’t take much imagination to think of Hudson, shivering and miserable in some cage, trapped within that vast ship.
Graves turned back to me and clapped me on the shoulder. The metal of his gauntlet rang against my epaulet.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. “No regrets. Well done, McGill. In my opinion, you made the right call. But I’ll have to edit your after-action report slightly just in case the brass gets nosy.”
He walked away, and I frowned after him. Edit the report? Did he think that anyone higher ranked than he was going to read it? I hadn’t even considered the notion.
But then, I hadn’t been thinking about Primus Turov. She was always looking for a good reason to take a shot at me. I’d thwarted her plans a year back—and she wasn’t the forgiving type.
Shrugging, I went back to my platoon and met with Leeson. He looked me over as if he didn’t quite know what to make of me. After he gave us a briefing on the planned morning action, which involved attacking the slavers as they searched the caves for colonists, he beckoned to me.
I moved to his side, and he stood with his back to the others so no one could listen in.
“I don’t want you thinking you can pull that kind of shit whenever you want, McGill,” he told me in a hushed tone.
“What specific variety of shit are we talking about, sir?”
He glared at me. “You know damned well what I’m talking about. Don’t think for a second you can get away with driving a force-blade into my throat and walking away a hero afterward. I’ll erase you when I get revived—that’s a promise. Legion Varus won’t even have a record of your existence by the end of the next day.”
“Don’t worry. If these freaks manage to get their gentle hands wrapped around you…well sir, as far as I’m concerned they can keep you.”
I smiled and walked away. I could feel Leeson’s eyes burning into my back, but I didn’t care.
That night I slept with Kivi. Killing a girl had to be the weirdest way to turn her on that I’d ever heard of –but it had worked out for me this time. I doubted anyone else had ever tried it, and I sincerely hoped never to experience such a situation again.
The sex was great, don’t get me wrong. Of all the girls I’d been with in Legion Varus, she was the most intense—and probably the most experienced.
I’m not sure what it is about the nearness of death that causes the human brain to turn to quick intimate contact—but the effect is undeniable. We were alive again after having died so utterly, so helplessly. The reprieve, the second chance, it seemed to kick over something in our minds. We wanted to live life to the fullest and didn’t hold anything back.
In the depths of the night, which was several hours longer than I was accustomed to, I heard a stealthy sound.
One would think that I’d sleep right through it. After all, going through a revival and enjoying Kivi’s companionship in my tent had pretty much worn me out. But some part of me lit up, and I awakened anyway.
Sucking in a gulp of air and sitting up suddenly, I groped in the darkness. I found a wrist, and clamped onto it with my hand. The wrist was a thin one, but it tried to pull away with surprising strength.
I held on, and my bleary eyes adjusted.
“Della?” I asked in a whisper.
“Let go of me,” she hissed back. “I have a blade.”
I saw now that she did indeed have a weapon. It glimmered in the light coming from the vertical slit she’d carefully unzipped to let herself in.
“What the hell are you doing in my tent?” I asked.
“I came to talk to you.”
I gave my head a shake to wake up and let her go. I glanced over at Kivi. She was frowning and twitching in her sleep but hadn’t awakened. I could tell she was dreaming, her eyelids shifting and twitching.
Then I noticed something else. A tiny, open vial lay near Kivi’s face. There was a dark red dust under her nose. It reminded me of cinnamon, or chili powder.
“What did you do to Kivi?”
“She will sleep. Come with me. Your mechanical birds will find us soon.”
I frowned at her, but I followed her out of my tent. I was trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. How had Della gotten into our camp? We had drones, guards and sensors. The techs were seriously screwing up, and I didn’t buy the idea Della had sprinkled sleeping powder under everyone’s nose.
The answer came soon thereafter. She led me to a thicket of alien growths that looked like bulbous cacti—but these cacti had feathery leaves rather than spines. In the middle of these plants was a collection of boulders. One of them shifted at her touch. A dark opening stretched about a foot wide.
“Follow me,” she said and began to slide into the opening.
I looked dubiously into the crack in the earth. I walked up to it, crouched and stared into the darkness. I couldn’t see much other than Della’s shapely legs and butt disappearing into it. When she was gone, I grumbled to myself thoughtfully.
Why me? I know that’s the sort of question a fighting man should never ask himself, but I did it anyway.
“Della?” I called down the hole.
There was no answer. I was alone.
There was no doubt in my mind about what I should do
then. I should stand up, walk back to my tent and call my unit commanders. Hell, I wasn’t even wearing my heavy armor—not that it would fit into that slit in the ground anyway.
Doubting my sanity, I went back to my tent, grabbed a small ruck with a sidearm and a few supplies, and prepared to leave. I took the time to check Kivi’s pulse, which was strong, and to take the vial away from her face. I didn’t want her to overdose on whatever that stuff was.
As an afterthought, I stoppered the vial and put it into my ruck. One never knew when such a substance might come in handy.
When I returned to the spot where Della had disappeared, I couldn’t find the crack in the rocks. I cursed and shoved aside underbrush and dead leaves. It had to be here, right here.
I found it at last. Could it have narrowed even further? I slipped my fingers inside and pulled at it, stretching it wider. The hole was triangular, and it looked like a sliding section of rock—but it was clearly something fashioned to resemble rock.
When it was wide enough, I shined a light inside. There wasn’t much to see other than a narrow stone tunnel.
A buzzer swooped nearby. I flicked off my light and stashed it in my bag. I sat next to the opening and yawned. Whoever was running that buzzer took a good, long look at me. I wondered if it was Natasha herself. I pretended to be oblivious to the attention and soon the buzzer wandered off. The best way to avoid surveillance, I’ve always found, is to be as boring as humanly possible.
The second the buzzer left, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my leg. I gritted my teeth, holding back a shout. Standing up, I flipped my light back on and peered down into the hole again.
There was Della’s face, staring up at me.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked sharply. All I could see were her brown, almond-shaped eyes. There were streaks of dirt and sweat on her brow, but somehow she was still pretty in a rustic sort of way.