by Mark Wandrey
“I think it’s just the cats.” Ripley shoved her sister lightly.
“What makes you think that?”
“The Vergola wanted this over as badly as anyone else. They had to have been bleeding credits for months. Otherwise why agree to the ceasefire? Besides, our Zuul kin wouldn’t play that game. Veska was too confident her captain was satisfied with who we are, and I believe her.”
“I still can’t believe we’re some kinda rockstars to the Zuul.” Sonya’s focus remained ahead as they trotted, but she swiveled an ear back toward Ripley.
“Yeah,” Ripley agreed, glad to break the tension. “You ain’t nearly pretty enough.”
Zuul hands were not quite built the same as Human. Despite this, Sonya managed a believable middle finger. She pushed the control on a door, which slid aside to reveal a trio of Pushtal, who appeared just as surprised.
“Bloody shit!” Ripley barked and backpedaled, promptly tripping over her own feet.
Sonya was a little more on the ball, and she clawed at her sidearm. As Ripley fell backward in slow motion, her pilot’s mind played out what would happen next in painful clarity.
The Pushtal’s weapon rose and lined up with Sonya’s face. Ripley knew she was about to watch her sister die. Sonya did the only thing she could do, continuing to draw her weapon even as the Pushtal gun barrel loomed large, a tunnel about to change their lives. Ripley screamed inside her head—why hadn’t they been moving with weapons ready?
“Raahhhhr!” The scream projected from behind them, and in a split second a blur of dark skin and arms shot past and hit the nearest Pushtal like a missile.
Sonya got her gun out and up, but there was only one of the three Pushtal left. She shot it while it gaped at her, keeping her gun at the ready. Ripley hit the ground and reached for own, but there was no need. A Lumar—Ulan, she realized—had hit two of the Pushtal like a rugby player. Go All Black! she thought.
Even though the Lumar had four arms, two hissing and spitting Pushtal couldn’t be fully restrained, and neither Zuul had a shot. Good thing for Ulan he had help. Two more Lumar jumped over the sisters to join the fray. Good for the Lumar, but bad for the Pushtal. Despite how much she hated the cats, Ripley had to look away as the three Lumar used their multiple powerful arms to dismember the Pushtal. Don’t need a clear shot when you can literally tear your enemy apart.
“Fucking hell,” Ripley gasped and wished she could block her ears from the rending sound. It might not have been so bad if the Lumar weren’t laughing as they tore the Pushtal limb from limb.
“Zuul young.”
They both turned to find Yanow watching them.
“Zuul young, go find your others.”
“What about the cats getting in this way?”
“We have this,” Yanow said as dozens and dozens more Lumar poured through behind her. In moments they ran and leaped down the hall, through the door, and over the mutilated dead Pushtal. “Your kind are in need of you.”
Sonya straightened, made a fist with her right hand, and brought it to her chest in the salute the Zuul used. Ripley followed suit. Yanow nodded her acknowledgment, and the two wasted no time rushing back toward the armory. Wherever their people were, they’d all need weapons.
* * *
“There’s just too damn many of them,” Bana said, shaking his head. He rammed another magazine into his battle rifle. Drake could see the heat rising in shimmers from the barrel. All their weapons were so hot they were getting difficult to handle. Even in a sub-zero atmosphere. If that weren’t enough, ammo was running low.
“If we could just get to our CASPers,” Drake growled, not for the first time.
Ripley and Sonya came sliding into the piles of debris and bodies, looking around in horror. Drake knew what it must look like. While a dozen bodies were Pushtal, many were Human as well. A few were being tended to by Dyffid, but they couldn’t disengage. Every time they tried, the Pushtal tried to rush.
“Hope you brought presents,” Drake said, checking his web gear to see how many magazines were left.
“Of course,” Ripley replied and pulled a strap over her head, dropping a bag next to them. It was full of rifle magazines, pistol magazines, grenades, and various batteries.
Several of the troopers cheered and began helping themselves as did Drake and Bana.
“What’s the situation?” Sonya asked as she popped up and sent a burst downrange. She and her sister provided sufficient cover to give everyone else time to reload and replace breather batteries.
“Holding,” Bana said. “More importantly, what the bloody hell are you doing here? Did you find out what caused the other explosions?”
“Pushtal breached over by the Zuparti living area,” Ripley explained.
“Why aren’t you there, then?” Drake growled.
“Because the Lumar are there, ripping bloody Pushtal apart like gingerbread men.”
“Oh,” Drake said.
“Yeah,” Sonya agreed and let fly another burst. “Anderle has a squad securing the rest of the perimeter.”
“We’re bloody lucky the cats don’t like grenades,” Bana said.
“Yeah, they want to get in here and use their teeth,” Ripley said. Sonya shuddered, then bared her own teeth in challenge.
Another Zuul figure peered into the room—Veska. She dodged a burst of Pushtal fire, then dove in quickly to get under cover. “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” she said. “You had my armor and weapon locked up.” She patted the gear and hoisted her Zuul-designed rifle. “But your locks aren’t for shit.”
“Good thing,” Bana said. “We need you.”
“Glad I can help. No sign of Zuul?” Drake could tell her voice held hope and fear at the same time.
“No,” Drake said, shaking his head. Veska gave a little sigh of relief.
“What the fuck happened to the ceasefire?” Bana demanded.
Another Zuul slid in behind cover. It took Drake a full breath to realize it was Shadow. His littlest brother was covered in blood, wild-eyed, and looked half insane. Even his scent was different. “The Pushtal did this by themselves,” he said. “Their leader said they wanted everything.”
“Where’s Rex? And Dad?” Drake asked, popping back up to shoot with his newly-reloaded weapon.
“Dead.” Shadow’s eyes were coals, and his face iron. His ears didn’t so much as twitch, but his lip peeled back from blood-tinged teeth. “They’re both dead. The Pushtal killed them.”
Drake, Ripley, and Sonya just stared, uncomprehending. The words didn’t make any sense. Drake was still trying to figure out how Shadow had gotten so drenched in blood. Shadow, of all of them, wouldn’t hurt anyone…
“Well that tears it,” Bana said after a too-long silence, punctuated only by gunfire. “Anyone watching the rear?” There was a thickness to his voice Drake couldn’t understand. Dead?
“Nobody left,” Shadow said. “I sent Newt to get the Lumar and Gardner to check out the second explosion, but I haven’t heard…” He shook his head sharply and reached into the bag for a reload. “It looks like they want in here.” He popped up a half second and scanned the enemy outside, taking three shots with almost clinical precision. Drake stared, unblinking. “I want the one with the eyepatch,” Shadow added. “He’s the leader. He did this.”
“He killed Dad?” Drake asked. The words were foreign, but tugged at something deep inside him. Like the first time he’d heard Zuul, but infinitely worse. “He’s ours, then. We’ll all help tear him to pieces.”
“Dead?” Ripley’s voice strangled in her throat. “Rex? But…I mean…how?”
Sonya coughed through a sob, tears leaking out from her breathing mask and freezing on the cold suit. She shook her head over and over. “Dad…” It was hardly a word, so choked in grief it felt more like a despairing howl.
“Hey!” Veska grabbed one after the other and shook them, hard. While her ears swiveled as though looking for another answer, her eyes burned with focus.
“Come out of it,” she said in their native language. “You are Zuul. More importantly, you are Krif’Hosh! You are bigger than any one of you, any one of us.”
“What are we really?” Shadow asked, his face still blank, his tail still.
“You are the light in the dark. In our language, Krif’Hosh translates as Night Song. The meaning is almost literal. It is the song, the howls in the night, that which leads all the clans to safety and survival.” She stared at them, the ferocity of her blocking out the ongoing battle around them, and they stared back. “We’ve been lost without you. Yes, you are young. Yes, the man who raised you is dead. Yes, the one who seemed strongest is now dead, too.” Her voice stuttered for a moment, but she growled and continued. “But as long as you live, Zuul lives on. The Hosh are whole again! We will all howl the story of Rex’s life and death.”
She slammed the butt of her rifle into the ground and snarled at them. “You don’t think this is tearing my soul apart? I felt the barest glimmer of love with him. I grieve for more than what was lost, but for what was possible!”
Shots tore across the space, searching for hot flesh to pierce. The surviving Humans watched the drama, eyes wide in fear or narrow in anger as they’d lost their leader. Drake wanted to block them all out, but everything crowded close. The remaining Humans of Silent Night. His siblings. Their loss. Veska, demanding more from them. Drake, not sure he had anything left to give, with Rex…
“Do not despair, for we are far from done.” Veska lifted a brace of grenades and dropped her jaw. “The galaxy has yet to hear our final song! If this is our end, we will make it such an end that all of Zuul will sing our tale until the end of time!”
Drake closed his eyes and focused on the breather tight against his face. For his father. For Rex. For those who survived around them. When he opened his eyes, the rock certainty of their next move came clear.
“I’ll take those,” he said, fingers curling around the weight of the belt Veska dropped in his hands. “Well?”
Shadow’s ears pricked forward, and Drake saw shock bleed into determination so strong, it put iron in his own spine. “Bana, we’re going to charge. Drake?”
“Covering fire.” He detached one of the grenades, aware his grin was utterly unhinged. “For Dad, and for Rex. Unto the end.”
* * *
Sonya’s hands were disconnected from her body, but she stared at them until they moved. She didn’t need to do anything but think beyond the next step.
Pick up gun.
Load additional ammunition.
Pick up second gun.
Breathe.
Listen for Shadow’s signal. He was the dreamer; he would know the time. A dozen arms swung, sending a volley of grenades flying into the cold.
Wait for the first explosion.
Go.
Sonya’s legs were disconnected, too, but they ran all the same. She dodged the dead, barely remembering to stay low. Everything in her told her to leap, to push against this planet and its low gravity, and shoot from on high.
But Drake was throwing grenades above them, and leaping would only make her a target.
She clenched her jaw hard, belatedly realizing she’d bit her tongue, when all she could taste was blood.
Her aim wasn’t as effective while she ran, but she shot every time a tufted ear appeared. The series of explosions ahead sent more Pushtal fleeing, and then it didn’t matter so much how well she aimed in such a target rich environment.
* * *
Drake howled his war cry as the first grenade exploded, gripped his rifle, and vaulted over the debris, bounding into the cold. Bullets whizzed by his head close enough to hear the shockwave. He fired his weapon from the hip, dumping the magazine in a long, ragged burst. Dropping the mag, he slammed another one home. “Rahhhhhhhr!” he screamed and loped forward.
* * *
Ripley eschewed the battle rifle for a single pistol, her preferred handheld weapon, as suited her pilot’s nature. Bounding step, fire. Bounding step, fire. Each leap, she waited until apogee to fire, giving herself a stable sight picture, and resulting in a hit each time. She didn’t yell or scream, but a smile grew as she exacted her revenge.
* * *
Shadow was filled with resolve as they jumped out of relative safety into the open. His sharp eyes scanned the field of battle. Dozens of Pushtal bodies were scattered everywhere, but many more were piling out of the three transports left intact. Two transports were wrecked, with one blown completely apart. He had his gun in hand, but waited. His siblings and Silent Night were making progress; he searched for one target.
* * *
Veska committed to the charge the moment Shadow gave the signal. She focused on the battle at hand—there would be time enough to mourn her dead after the job was done. If she was fated to join them, what point was there in losing time to sadness? There was killing to be done.
The Pushtal had abandoned honor, and that left wrongs in need of righting. Blood would answer the debt, and she would fight alongside Hosh to pay it. Should she fall in that duty, she would walk before the gods with pride.
Like Sonya, she ran low, pushing hard against the earth on every point of contact. Her strength and the low gravity meant she crossed the killing fields in moments, launching herself into the thick of disembarking Pushtal from the far transport and using the Human repeating gun with great effect.
* * *
“Prepare to rush them!” Meesh yelled at his troops. The detonation of the transport holding their heavy weapons and explosives had been an unwelcome surprise. So had the repulsing of the platoon he’d sent around the far side of the installation. He was sure he’d killed the Human leader, and ripping the life from a cluster of Zuparti after Ifka had been shaken to death had been satisfying. Now he had but to taste the blood of the Lumar leader for it to be complete. With no leadership, they’d fall to chaos.
Meesh opened his mouth to call for a charge when a dozen grenades flew from the hole in the Zuparti’s base and arced lazily toward them. Well, that’s unfortunate. Without appearing too obvious, Meesh took a step sideways and knelt behind one of the transports as the volley of grenades exploded around them. His arm still burned like fire from the hasty nanite reattachment, and he was still short an eye. It wasn’t cowardice, it was a practical decision.
He waited until he was certain no more grenades were forthcoming before standing again. When he did, he realized his troops were staring in surprise as a swarm of Humans raced up the low rise toward them. “What are you idiots staring at?” he demanded.
“But they’re attacking?” one of his lieutenants said.
“We have them outnumbered, they should be retreating!” a young trooper said incredulously.
“It doesn’t matter!” Meesh roared, raising his massive handgun and firing. “Shoot, shoot, shoot!” The addled troopers paused another crucial second before getting control of themselves. By then, the Humans were almost upon them. There was a disturbance at the further transport, but he needed to pay attention to the closer issue—he knew the Humans didn’t have enough survivors left to mount a double assault. Mixed among the smaller simians approaching were four Zuul, likely the ones Nillab had shown such interest in, ones who had been raised on Earth. One was dead; he’d enjoy killing the rest. He aimed at one and fired.
* * *
Something made Shadow delay his next leap. A tingle in the back of his mind. He landed and let his booted feet skid along the ground, and a bullet whizzed through where he would have been. Only then did he jump. Another few meters closer, still searching.
* * *
A bullet hit Ripley’s shoulder, not penetrating the armor, but altering her flight. She hit the ground hard, her chest exploding in pain from the previous injury. Worse, she almost lost her breathing mask. When she rolled over, a Pushtal was rushing at her, claws out. She shot him in the face, shattering his mask and blowing off the top of his head. “Bad kitty, no snacks,” she groaned and got back to her fe
et in time to fire at another.
* * *
Drake’s rifle ran empty a second time just as he was coming down. A Pushtal screeched and reached for him, arms wide and claws sparkling in the cold sun. Drake reversed the gun, grabbing the still hot barrel in his gloved hands, and brought it down like he was chopping wood. The Pushtal’s head gave a sickening crack! Blood flew, freezing almost instantly in the cold. Even so, when he hit the cat, he felt claws dig into his side. They didn’t die easy.
He let the pain flow through him, driving his rage. The gun barrel had bent. No matter, he ripped his sidearm free from the holster and shot the closest enemy.
* * *
Sonya was a little behind her brothers and sister as they advanced. She used her rifle like a scalpel, firing a burst here, a shot there, aiming to take out any Pushtal who looked to have it together a little more than the others. Despite their unexpected attack, the damned cats were rallying. Nobody doubted their ferocity, only their personal hygiene.
As she angled to get a better shot, her right leg exploded in agony. An enemy grabbed it from below, pulling and tearing the flesh. That altered the arc of her jump, slamming her mercilessly into the ground. She blacked out for a second, and when her vision cleared, the Pushtal was moving in for the kill, confident it had her. She raised the rifle with numb hands and somehow managed to pull the trigger, stitching the cat from foot to head.
“You okay sis?” Ripley yelled over the gunfire.
“Piece of piss,” she replied and struggled up. Good news, she told herself, the blood is freezing on the suit, so it should stop the bleeding. Opposite of cauterizing. Definitely a thing.
* * *
The same strange sensation made Shadow look to the side. Sonya half-stood behind and to the side of him, one leg stained red with quickly freezing blood. She was barely holding off a group of Pushtal sensing an easy kill. The drive for revenge battled with duty, and duty won.