Hell's Own

by T S Weaver

  He’d never heard of full-on attacks. Sure, the occasional raid to grab a specific person. A slave raid. Assassination. Nothing like this. Whatever this was.

  Debris turned into a blockage five minutes down the corridor, with a small gap at the top. Not enough to allow anyone through. He swore, under his breath, and he wasn’t the only one.

  “Let’s get this cleared, or as much as we can.” Gunny glared at the mess. “And hope we don’t have to deal with too much of this.” With the low oxygen, it would mean burning through what they had in their masks and backups. The environmental gear they wore wouldn’t be easily damaged, but it wouldn’t keep out the cold the way full battle armor and built-in suits could. “Lackey and Walker, up there, get the first couple out of the way. Rest of you, form a chain to move the bigger pieces along the wall. If we can make it easier for Lawbook to return to us, so much the better.”

  Not the order he’d expected to hear, sending the woman through the hole when there were plenty of men around. Equality, he supposed. Or maybe he didn’t see the Sergeant as a woman? It was possible but unlikely.

  “On it.”

  Lawbook, odd name for a woman, had been gone too long for his comfort and his skin tightened, the urge to move, pace, be active, grew until his hands fisted and relaxed at his sides. The two men now working on the debris took care not to send pieces down in the direction of the men waiting at the bottom. Two other men, Ready and Harvard, took position to take the pieces when they were passed down.

  “Stone.”

  He turned his attention back to Gunny. “Yeah?”

  “Help them, no one gets to stand around here, admiring the scenery.” The Gunny took position with the rest of the men, taking the first of the pieces, working alongside his people.

  Arguing would waste oxygen, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed lugging stone and rock around. Or pieces of whatever it was which had coated the walls. He hadn’t been sent to the top of the pile to help shift the worst of the mess. Grunt labor. Hah. His mother would turn in her grave. If she was dead. As for the rest of his family, he didn’t care what they believed he’d become, but the head of the family, she was another matter entirely. The damn female would never forgive him unless he came to her on bended knee and begged her forgiveness.

  Never. Going. To. Happen.

  He glanced up. No sign of Lawbook. How long had she been gone now? He growled and pushed all thoughts of the woman, and the length of time she’d been gone, to the back of his mind.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing here, instead of going with Jones, but I’ll get to the bottom of this, Stone. Don’t think I won’t.” Gunny spoke in low tones, meant only for him. “If you do anything to put my people in danger, I’ll rip your spine out. Got it?”

  Stone smiled as he met the older man’s gaze. “Oh, I understand, Gunny. I’m not out to do anything but survive and find out what’s going.” Not entirely a lie, he’d only missed out a few key details the marine didn’t need to know. Such as the reason he’d been in the bar. And why he’d volunteered to come with the Marines when there was a softer option with Jones, the civilians and the stores the bar owner had squirreled away in the tunnels. “Your people are in no danger from me.” Okay, that part was a lie. “Let me get on with life, and it’s all good.”

  The man snorted. “If we make it. I don’t know what’s waiting out there for us, any more than you do. Three ships but we know nothing else about the situation. The colony attacked. And if you believe you have a chance of making it off planet while those bastards are out there, then you don’t have the smarts I credited you with.”

  Stone bit back a growl. “I’m no fool. Getting off-world in one piece isn’t a case of getting in a shuttle or whatever and heading out. We don’t know why they attacked, who they are, the weapons they have, their goal, or anything other than the fact the base has been hit.” Calm, he had to remain calm. “This isn’t my first rodeo.” Whatever the hell that was. “Laying low and gathering information is the wisest course of action, and only leaving Pluto when there’s an actual chance of making it.” He jerked his chin toward the rest of the Marines. “I’m here, working with you and this lot. If we’re attacked, I’ll fight.”

  “Unless someone offers you money to change sides, or for information.”

  “What do you think I am? A traitor.” His heart raced, hands clenched. No matter what was going on, he’d never work with those who targeted paying clients. Waste of resources to blow up people who could offer you various items in trade or paid with colony recognized funds.

  “Never said it, but you’re a businessman. A merc or smuggler, maybe both. Means you’ll protect your own skin first, and screw anyone who gets in your way.”

  He wanted to deny the words, but the lie stuck in his throat. Stone took a deep breath and forced his anger back under control. “Fine, under normal circumstances, you’d be right. This isn’t normal. Unless it turns out this is being run by one of my contacts, one I trust, then I’m not about to switch sides. And to be honest, I can’t see anyone I’ve ever worked with pulling shit like this.” No, it would be bad for business to blow up a base and take on Earth’s military. Didn’t matter how powerful his contacts might be, not one of them had enough firepower to stand up against the combined forces of the military. “Whatever is going on, it’s not mercs, couldn’t be. Three ships of the size and with the firepower to take out the main base? No. Maybe a smaller settlement, on the other side of the planet. Or a station. Not something like this.”

  “We’ll find out once we get through this. The base isn’t far from here.”

  “Figured.” Anger burned in his gut, but using it against the Marines wouldn’t work. Holding onto it wasted energy. Letting it go was the only viable option, but not until the man got out of his face.

  “Do I need to warn you we’ll be watching you?”

  “No.” A smile crept across his lips. “Wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

  The Gunny inclined his head, eyes hard as he turned his attention back to the rubble, and the small gap the two at the top slowly enlarged. “Put your backs into it.”

  Silence, save for grunts and the occasional swearing, settled over the group as they worked together, hauling debris out of the way until the hole was comfortably large enough to get the team and their equipment through. Lawbook had pushed herself through the gap on her stomach. The space before the work had begun on the collapse had forced the woman to approach the tunnel on her belly. Tight confines, now widened on their side of the destruction, but there was still no sign of her.

  What was keeping her? Were the others concerned? He glanced at the gathered men, searching their faces, what the masks didn’t hide, for a hint of worry.

  No one spoke, and all he could do was wait with the others, as his stomach knotted and writhed in a fear he refused to acknowledge.

  Interlude Two

  Unified Terran Government: Alpha Comms.

  “Captain? We’ve got a problem with long range communications.” Sheila Cavanor frowned at the screen as her fingers moved at a rapid pace across the controls. The last thing she wanted to do was call the man’s attention her way, but in this she had no choice. He was in command, having swapped shifts with the woman initially assigned the duty, and as such she had no one else to turn to.

  She kept her features neutral, back straight, shoulders back. He wouldn’t find anything to correct her, not in her manner of address, or the way she sat. Everything by the book, it was the only way to keep him from dropping her into it or using her lapse as a reason to lean in close.

  “What is it Lieutenant?” Captain Ulrich Grant moved with ease through the room until he stopped to the left of her chair.

  “We’ve got a black out in communications at the edge of the system,. No, not only the edge, it’s crawling out, heading toward the center of the system. Pluto is silent, as are the two ships assigned to the sector.” To Earth, the block on communications spread out toward their ho
me, or would if nothing was done to correct the situation. “I’ve run scans on the computers but everything’s coming back clean.” Five scans, more than enough to keep Grant from suggesting she’d missed the cause, forgotten to double check the backup systems, or had failed to run a particular program, designed to increase their communication range.

  “Where did it begin?” He set one hand on the back of her chair and leaned in.

  “Pluto. The routine check happened on time, both with the colony and the two navy vessels in the area.” Three hours ago, nothing but the all clear and light chatter. Her jaw tightened as Grant shifted his weight until she couldn’t shut out his presence. “I thought I caught a sound, a squelch, ninety minutes ago, but again the system came back clear. I checked in with the other colonies and ships, then worked my way back to Pluto, per regulations.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. No static.” He didn’t have to be this close to her. She didn’t look at him, knowing it was what he was waiting for. Damn man wouldn’t take no for an answer. She didn’t date men she worked with, besides, there was the entire problem with him being her commanding officer. “I’ve run six different scans on the system, still nothing.” She tapped the stream of data on the right-hand side of the screen. “See this? The energy flicker. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Sergeant Roberts, bring up everything we’ve got on the readings in and around Pluto.” He squeezed her shoulder, the touch lingering a fraction longer than was acceptable. “Leave this to me, Sheila.”

  “Lieutenant Cavanor,” she replied.

  “Ah, always the formal one.”

  “This is work, Captain.” No matter if he refused to accept it. “There’s a problem. I know there is. It isn’t a case of a system failure, or a hack job. We’re being jammed.”

  “No one has the ability to jam our communications. Not with the back-ups in place.” Scorn touched his words.

  “I know that’s how it’s supposed to work, but I’m telling you our communications are being blocked. And this energy reading, it’s appearance, matches the start of the problems with contacting the colony.” Not only the colony, but the ships, vessels strong enough to deal with anything the local pirates would be able to throw at them. “We need to kick this up the chain.”

  “Are you telling me my job, Lieutenant?” Cold and crisp, the words slashed with a knife’s edge.

  “No sir, merely making a suggestion.”

  He grunted, straightened up and stalked across the room toward the Sergeant.

  Damn man, the vast majority of the men and women she worked with, as well as those who claimed no gender or were gender fluid, were decent people. But the Captain, she’d be relieved when he cycled out and was sent to his next station.

  “The Lieutenant is right, Captain. We’re being blocked. Signals aren’t going through no matter how much we boost them. It’s like hitting a brick wall a klick deep.” Middle-aged, calm and one of the longest to serve at Comms Alpha, Roberts didn’t take nonsense from anyone. No matter the rank. “The energy readings are coming in from three points, if I didn’t know better I’d say ships, but this is like nothing in the database.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Captain, it’s right there on my screen. We need to send this up the line.” Roberts insisted.

  Silence, save for the low hum and occasional chirp from the consoles. Sheila held her breath. Either the captain would accept Roberts’ words, or--

  “Captain, if you don’t inform command, then I will.”

  And there it was.

  Grant turned on his heel and stormed his way back to his station. “Do it and be damned, Roberts. I’ll be placing you on report for insubordination.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  6

  “Salla, get the hatch open,” Duncan ordered. Getting to safety had to be the first order of business. Gathering their get out bags and everything else they would need hadn’t been easy. Each new shake of the ground had sent them into hiding, grabbing shelter in a doorway or beneath a large table. Now they were running out of time.

  Shapes moved beyond the door, the windows, strange outlines which didn’t fit with anything he’d seen before. One walked on all fours, another on hind legs, with six limbs, distinct through the hazy window in the door. Invaders. The alert had been right. They were no longer alone on Pluto. He swallowed. Hard. His daughter. She’d survive. No matter what happened, she’d make it.

  “Dad?”

  “Get it open and get down, away from here. You know where to go.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Yes, you are. I’ve trained you, raised you, and you know the rules mean you have to follow my commands if we’re in an emergency situation. I think this counts.” One of the shapes, the one with six limbs, turned toward their home. He shut down the comm, refusing to allow his daughter access to him, at least in one way. Salla. She’d live, she’d make it, no matter what it did to him. The risks. He knew them, understood them, and would never allow them to prevent what must be done. He blinked back a haze, refusing to acknowledge the liquid as tears.

  The shape paused outside of the door, head tipped to the left.

  Nails, claws, whatever it was, the sharp edges scraped over the door.

  The enemy.

  He didn’t think, he reacted. With a cry of rage, he grabbed the shotgun he kept close to the door, hidden behind a sliding panel. He had it out in a split second, raked the weapon, and took position between the door and his daughter.

  “Dad, don’t do this.”

  “I know what I’m doing. Get out of here. Go. Now.” One of them would make it.

  Salla. As long as she lived, he wouldn’t be forgotten.

  The door shattered, plasti coated shards sliced through the air. Shards struck him, digging into his suit. Pieces shredded through the covering. The inbuilt alarm rang out, warning him of the loss of integrity. Loss of air, and the limited warmth it offered. Damn suit, he’d been told it was close to military grade. Damn traders had sold him a dud. Hah, served the scum right of their own suits ceased to do its job.

  Darkness, living darkness with a glimmering layer above the skin. A suit? Or a natural occurrence? It didn’t matter. Not at this moment. “Get out of my store,” he growled, widening his stance. Behind him, he heard it. The trapdoor opening. Salla obeyed him. No matter what she wanted, or how afraid she was, she continued to follow him. Pride rushed through him, claimed him as his fingers tightened on the trigger as the creature approached.

  No weapons.

  No, it held a rifle or a weapon that looked like one, if you ignored the jagged design, the glistening material, and the dangerous hands holding it. Hands with eight fingers, digits, whatever. Long claws tipped each one, a deep red, almost black in color until the light caught it.

  It hissed. Teeth, fangs, a long split tongue. Eyes, four of them. No nose above the dripping maw. Not human.

  Alien.

  The enemy.

  And it wasn’t getting his daughter.

  With a scream of rage, he charged, pulling the trigger as he moved, knowing it would be the last thing he ever did.

  Stone scowled and turned away, refusing to stare at the pile of rubble. She’d return or she wouldn’t, either way, watching wouldn’t make it happen any faster. Blasted Marines, for all he knew she’d found one of the new arrivals to start a fight with. Wasn’t that how they reacted? How the military worked when they didn’t have an officer or senior NCO around to keep them under control.

  “She’ll be back,” one of the men spoke up.

  “Yeah, you can’t knock the Sarg down, she always comes back up throwing punches and taking names.” The youngest of the Marines grinned. What was his name again? Walker?

  “Better hope she doesn’t start throwing punches.” Stone pinned the man with a glare. “A fight draws attention, and we don’t need eyes on us. Not until we know what’s happened.”

  “The man’s right,” s
aid Gunny. “We have to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Who’s behind the attack. How many are injured.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d agree with you, Gunny. Or any other member of the military, but yeah. We need information before we move.” Stone rolled out his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. This wasn’t a time or place to pick an argument, but talking helped him, it gave him something to do, even if it wasn’t productive. “If she starts a fight, we’re dead, or captured.”

  “Lawbook wouldn’t give us up. She’d die first.” The youngest protested. What was his name? Walker? “She’s tough. She’d bite off her own tongue before she gave us up.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” Gunny reached out and slapped the back of Walker’s head. “Dumbass. She’d die fighting, lie, cheat, escape, and find a way of getting word to us.”

  Stone rolled his eyes. Military. She was a woman on her own. Didn’t matter how tough they believed her to be, she was human, female, and had weaknesses, like every other woman out there. Fine, every human being. Women had a few extra issues, but he’d seen enough of them to know they could be equally as deadly in a fight as a man. And this one had been trained, survived long enough in the Marines to gain a decent rank. If she returned, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Marines, from what he knew, didn’t hand out rank to keep up numbers.

  You earned the rank.

  Nothing but the heavy sound of breathing as they recovered from shifting the often heavy pieces around. If they’d been outside, beyond the artificial gravity maintained through the passageways and structures on Pluto, it wouldn’t have been as difficult to clear the space.