–XXX–
“What the …”?!?! Lt. Kiribati exclaimed. “What happened to those feeds?!”
“It’s not a signal transmission issue Lieutenant. The spiders have just stopped transmitting.” Hector heard someone reply to Lt. Kiribati. Probably the tech lead for Lt. Kiribati’s Alpha team. Alpha team had the lead.
“All of the spiders stopped transmission simultaneously?!” Lt. Kiribati asked for confirmation.
“Affirmative lieutenant. All the four spiders stopped transmitting within seconds of each other. No signal jamming was detected. High possibility that the spiders were destroyed by something before the spiders could detect the attacker.” Replied the tech lead.
“Automated defense system?” Lt. Kiribati asked.
“Hard to say lieutenant. What we can say for sure is that there is some amount of Electromagnetic Sweep happening in that circular chamber either by automated defense systems of something alive down there. It would be impossible to sneak in there. Most probably whatever is down there already knows that we are here. If something alive is defending this place, then they are most likely waiting in ambush.” The tech lead gave his best guess.
“All right then. Let us figure out if we are dealing with live defense or an automated one. I want two hell hounds shoved inside the cave to be detonated in standard breach pattern.” Lt. Kiribati ordered. ‘Hell Hounds’ were subsonic missiles carried by a two person team on the ground. The missiles were rocket fueled, not air breathing, which made it possible to use them in airless moons or even underwater. The hell hounds moved at relatively low speeds compared to other missiles by design.
The slower speed of the missile made it possible for a Marine to be able to guide it in flight if necessary using their neural interface. Even with the slow speed of the hell hound, it required a Marine with extremely fast reflexes to control the missile in flight effectively on land or space. In the water though, the missiles moved much slower, hence guiding them through the mouth of the cave and turning them towards the circular opening inside wasn’t that much of a problem.
The hounds were configured to detonate in a ‘breach’ pattern, which meant that their primary energy output would be in the form of pressure waves. Pressure waves are very effective in blowing up things like doors. Pressure waves of bombs on the surface are also as devastating as the shrapnel of the bomb in killing people. Underwater, pressure waves are a far more effective, by as much an order of magnitude. This makes pressure waves a very effective killing method underwater for living beings. All living being within their bodies contain air sacs, or sacs of liquids – like oil in liver, acids in their stomachs etc. The pressure wave blows those sacs internally, liquefying the creature internally.
The two hounds entered the mouth of the cave one behind the other. One was programmed to detonate at the far end of the circular opening, while the other one was simultaneously timed to explode somewhere near the middle. The hounds didn’t get that far. The lead hound blinked out of existence as it had reached about the center of the opening. The rear hound, being electronically slaved to the lead hound as a team, responded as it had been programmed – it detonated instantly. Although the rear hound had barely made it inside the opening of the cave, the pressure wave its detonation released inside that enclosed space would have killed all but the hardiest of Earth animals.
Lt. Jenkins hoped that whatever was hiding inside was hardy. He hoped that it would come out to fight. He hated the Shaitans, but whoever had slaughtered those poor bastards in this planet had to be devils incarnate itself – pure evil beyond description. He wanted to give some payback. Lt. Jenkins should have been careful what he wished for, because he just got it. Out of the mouth of the cave emerged the devil himself, a creature supremely adapted to underwater warfare who started slaughtering his comrades with ruthless efficiency!
Chapter 2
The Bodar Sisters
Summer of 2197
Badlands of Cappadocia, Turkey, Earth
“Get up soldier! That’s an order!” Chuck could hear the faraway shout of Sarge echoing in his ears, as if from some distant valley. “On your feet, Pvt. Carpenter! You will not let your Sarge down. You will make it to those hills with me.” Chuck heard Sarge again, but this time it sounded a lot closer – like right in his ears, but he sounded as if speaking under water. Then the voice of the Sarge sounded clearer, although now its tone had turned soft. “You can do it son. You have it in you. Here, take my hand.”
Chuck opened his eyes and turned towards the voice from his prostrate position in which he had fallen. His eyes were immediately blinded by the harsh sun shining directly over the head of the Sarge, who was looming large over him. “You go on, sir. I am finished. I am slowing you down. Just do me a favor, Sarge… spare one bullet for me, I don’t want to be caught by them alive. Please Sarge, do this for me.” Chuck somehow found the strength to plead to Sarge.
“You are not going to die! Not here, not like this! You are United States Marine, and a Marine never gives up. Here, have some of my water. We rest for a minute, and then we start off slowly. You will get back your mojo soon.” Sergeant Rashid White turned Chuck and gently lifted his head to help him to some water from his canteen. Chuck took a grateful gulp before protesting. “Sarge! You cannot stop on my account! They will catch you along with me. You must run, Sarge!”
“Relax, Marine! The demons are a couple of miles behind us. We can afford to stop for a minute, but just a minute. You get your act together, and we start off again. You can do it Chuck. I have seen you in battle. You are the best in the platoon. You just need to pace yourself better.” Sarge replied to comfort Chuck.
It took Sarge well over a minute to goad Chuck to get back on his feet and start off again. He let Chuck walk at a sedate pace for a few minutes before he would urge him to pick up pace again. Sarge walked beside Chuck, holding his shoulders to support and boost his sagging morale. After a minute, Chuck gave a sideways glance at Sarge and asked. “So, what if she is wrong? I know the doc is a very smart lady with a lot of PhDs and all that college stuff, and she has fought bravely along with us Marines. I respect her for that, but she could be wrong about this – you know, the endurance and persistence hunter stuff.”
“She is not wrong about it Chuck. My ancestors, before they were brought in as slaves to America, used to be persistence hunters on the plains of Africa just five hundred years ago. So were the ancestors of every human alive, if you were to go back far enough. We humans are born to run, we have it in our genes.” Sarge replied.
“Perhaps not everyone’s genes, Sarge. I don’t think I can run any further. You seem to be unaffected, but I don’t have any reserves left.” Chuck said bitterly.
“You are younger and stronger than me, Chuck. You are twenty-one, I am thirty-four. You have more endurance than me. You are simply doing this wrong, not pacing yourself well. Remember what the doc said about our hunter ancestors?” Sarge tried to remind Chuck. “If our hunter ancestors on the plain of Africa needed to hunt an Eland, how would they do it? The Eland is bigger, stronger and faster than any human. It also has far greater stamina than any human can possess.
“A group of hunters would start chasing a single Eland. None of the hunters, however good a runner they were, could ever hope to catch an Eland in a chase. Catching the Eland in a chase, however, is never the goal of the hunters. They simply follow the Eland, barely keeping up with the animal. The hunters take turns in leading the chase and expending greater energy, while the rest of the group falls back a bit to get some respite. Turn by turn the hunters keep up the chase ensuring that the Eland never gets to stop and never gets to rest.
“In this epic chase which could last hours or even a day, our ancestors had gained an evolutionary advantage – our sweat glands. The same damn thing that makes us stinky by the end of the day, and makes my wife insist on me taking a shower every night, was used as a lethal weapon by our ancestors! Who would have thought of that?!” Sarge gave a
hearty laughter. “Did you know, we humans are the only mammals who have sweat glands?! No other mammal or any other animal for that matter sweats!
“Stinky we humans may be, but on the plains of Africa, it took us to the top of the food chain. We would sweat under the hot sun while we ran, and that heat would evaporate our sweat, cooling our bodies as a result. This kept our core temperature, and most importantly our brains from overheating. We could run for longer than any other animal on the savannas. The Eland had no such evolutionary adaptation. Although it still had a lot of energy reserves, it would simply collapse and sit under a tree not caring any longer whether it was being chased by a predator. Its body could no longer cool itself enough to keep the brain cool. All it takes is for the brain to heat a few degrees Fahrenheit more than the body temperature, and the brain starts shutting down.
“All it took the hunter after that was to catch up with the collapsed prey, apologize to the Eland for the life he was taking, and explain that the meat would feed his family. Then he would say a prayer for the soul of the Eland and deliver a quick cut to the jugular to end the misery of the animal. The Eland would be done in by its overheated brain, not by any weakness of its muscles. That is exactly the mistake you are making soldier. You are disoriented and giddy because of your overheated brain, not because of your weak muscles. You can run many more miles, if you exert yourself only that much as your body can cool itself. For that you have to pace yourself.” Sarge hoped that his small lecture would give young Chuck some confidence in himself. The biggest enemy of a runner was despondency and a lack of self-belief.
“But Sarge, I am pacing along with you!” Chuck protested.
“No, you are not. Your fear is getting the better of you soldier. You started off too fast overtaking me despite my warnings, and you have been slowing down as your body overheated, and lately have been struggling to keep up with my pace. Just think of this as another endurance hunt like our ancestors used to do, just in reverse. This time we are the prey, but the prey is going to endure and wear down the predator. Remember, the demons cannot hurt you if they don’t catch you. There are no extra points for increasing your lead over them, so don’t try to outrun them. Just ensure that we keep a fair distance with enough margin to always be ahead of them.” Sarge said.
“I keep getting visions of the demons shooting me with a needle, opening up a hole in my body!” Chuck said with a shiver.
“If the demons wanted to shoot us, they would have shot us hours ago. It is not their style, you have seen that too in our battles with them. The doc thinks it is some kind of social or hunting code of the demons, or it could be some twisted etiquette of their society. They will not shoot at an enemy, unless the enemy shoots at them first. The demons prefer to combat their enemies by physical contact, up close and personal; although the doc’s theory is that the demons look at us more as prey or hunting game, than as enemies. I must agree with her on that point. Our weapons are as effective and primitive against those of the demons, as the stone axes of the Native American Indians were against the guns of European colonizers. Yet the demons don’t butcher us with their advanced weapons unless provoked, but prefer to fight hand to hand, or hand to claws in this case. It is almost as if they are trying to prove their manliness or some twisted form of valor or vigor.” Sarge said while looking back to ensure that their pursuers weren’t too close.
“Sarge, even if what you say is right, and we humans are better long-distance runners than any earth animal, but those aren’t Elands chasing us. Those are aliens who have evolved in a different planet. They are not likely to suffer from overheating and suffer a sun stroke. They will go on and on. They will just keep coming until we are eventually exhausted.” Chuck was still full of doubt and scared. Sarge couldn’t blame him. Chuck was still a kid, and hell – Sarge himself was scared despite sounding calm to Chuck.
“Yes, those are aliens and they have different biochemistry, and different biomechanics; but their bodies still have to follow the same laws of chemistry and physics as ours. Any mechanical action generates heat. Running to move those massive bodies of theirs, is a lot of mechanical action. So, you can be sure that the demons’ bodies must be generating a lot of heat. The doc said that just like our bodies, the demons’ bodies also consist of a set of finely balanced biochemical processes. All biochemical processes, especially complex ones like those of our brains, can operate only within a small range of temperature. If the temperature increases beyond the specified range, then the biochemical process starts to degrade and eventually shuts down. That is why you were feeling giddy till a few moments earlier.
“Neither the doc, nor anyone else knows what that temperature range is for the demons, but you can be sure that there is one. If we can push those demons beyond that range, then they will suffer from its consequences. We just don’t what those consequences are. No one has been able to push them to that point and live to tell the tale.” Sargent White recited the theory that had been explained to him. Although he had never been good at science, but he had understood the basic principle. He hoped that his explanation would give some hope to the young Marine, that the demons could be defeated.
“If no one has ever been able to push the demons to their physical limits and lived to tell the tale, then what chance do we have, Sarge? Why should our fate be any different from the millions whom the demons have shred to pieces?” Chuck asked despondently, almost like a terrified teenager. Sarge realized that Chuck was a terrified teenager, one of the millions of boys and girls who had been dragged and robbed out of their childhood in the desperate struggle for survival that humanity found itself engaged in. Pvt. Chuck Carpenter had received none of the elaborate training that a United States Marine goes through. He hadn’t enjoyed the massive infrastructure of United States Armed forces, which Sargent White had had the privilege while he had gone through with his induction.
Chuck was simply a terrified young boy, who had been hastily inducted by the rag tag remnant of a once glorious army – the greatest and most powerful that any country had ever produced. In fact, Chuck had been inducted in a dingy cellar, which was the local HQ of what remained of the US Marines. His boot camp consisted of running through ruined fields and dark underground tunnels. His weapons training consisted little more than a few days of martial arts and firing a few bullets from whatever gun that the local Marine Company may have had in its possession. Sarge had to cut some slack to this kid. He had the heart of a soldier, but Chuck didn’t have the training of a soldier.
“We will succeed because we are the first ones who are doing this to a plan. No one has really tried this before. All that we humans have been doing, has been to run for our lives as fast as we can till we fall exhausted, like you were doing Private! We will succeed because we are doing this smartly. We are not trying to match our stamina against that of the demons. Just like the hunts of our ancestors, this is a relay. Each one of us runs by turn, and we will wear them out! We will succeed because doc told me that she thinks that the demons are semi-aquatic creatures who depend on water to cool them down. She thinks that the demons have no natural cooling mechanism like our sweaty skin, and in this hot dry place that we have been able to lure them, they should start overheating sooner or later, and I believe her!” Sgt. White was almost shouting. His nerves showed. He was tired, irritated with the questions of the teenager and more than a bit scared himself.
Chuck didn’t ask any more questions after that tone reply. He hung his head down and continued walking besides Sarge. After a few moments, Sgt. White felt sorry for Chuck. He was just a tired and scared kid, running for his life while nightmarish demons chased them. Sgt. White said softly to Chuck. “Look kid, we are doing this because we have no other alternative. Trust me, if we knew of a safer way, we would all have taken it. The demons had picked up our trail, and there was no way we could have hidden. Either we had to fight, or we had to run. You know what happens when six humans try to take on two demons in a straight up fight? Would
you have rather preferred that?”
Chuck responded negatively by nodding his head from side to side, but he still didn’t look up.
“I thought so. That is why we are running. But we are running to a plan, and this time we will get those bastards. Are you with me soldier?” Sarge asked with a renewed gusto.
Chuck nodded in the affirmative, still not looking up.
“Say it like a man! Are you with me soldier?!” Sarge asked again in an even higher tone.
“Sir, yes sir!” Chuck replied looking up. The pep talk seemed to have finally gotten through to him.
“Good then let us do our part, and reach those hills. Let us pick up pace. The demons have gained on us for sure, and we need to start running again. This time though, you run one step behind me. If I speed up, then you do the same. If I slow down, then so do you. Do not be scared. I will not leave you. I will drag you if needed, and I will carry you if needed, but I will not abandon you. Do you trust me soldier?” Sarge asked.
“Yes sir, I do. With my life!” Chuck replied.
“Then let’s do it!” Sarge said and slowly started jogging. Turning his head frequently, not so much to check on Chuck as to give him the comfort that he was checking on him, and wouldn’t leave him behind. Chuck seemed to have recovered enough to keep pace, but Sarge didn’t want to push him too hard yet, so he kept his pace slow to begin with.
The Badlands of Cappadocia is like any other Badlands, harsh and dry with almost no vegetation or shade anywhere to be seen. With the midday summer sun beating down on them, and the ambient temperature well over forty degrees Celsius, it was a grueling run for the two Marines. They were running towards the hills visible far in the horizon. Sgt. White switched on his neural interface to overlay a grid on those mountains and check the position marked on the grid.
Game Reserve: Earth (Shaitan Wars Book 5) Page 2