by T S Weaver
Nothing.
“We’re clear, Gunny.”
She felt, more than heard the rest of the group move through the rubble. She waited long enough to know there was someone behind her, ready to cover her if the need arose. Cora ran, keeping low to the ground, gaze sweeping the area before she made it to the next round of cover. Two minutes later, the rest were with her. “Which way?”
The Gunny pulled out a datapad. “This should be living quarters for two families, here.” He tapped the display. “Left, two blocks. Then right three.”
Blocks. Sure, she could figure out blocks if the damage hadn’t leveled everything, and blocked off walkways. “It’s a mess. Like leaving a city and coming back to a pile of kids bricks scattered where the buildings should be. All we’re missing are the bright, primary colors.”
Walker snorted, the sound turning into a giggle before Gunny smacked Walker across the back of the head.
“I remember those things. My niece has a set. Or did, the last time I saw her.” Lackey flashed a grin. “Hurt like hell if you step on them barefooted.”
Tension eased from her shoulders. “I’ll check to see what we’re facing for the next leg.” Her gaze found the Gunny’s before she met Stone’s. “You, with me. Keep close.”
The man scowled but nodded his agreement. Good, she didn’t need an argument. Not until they were safe. She clambered through the rubble and rested on the far side. One wall stood, or the remains of it, no more than two meters up, and seven across. A support beam propped up the second floor or would have done if it hadn’t been reduced to a handful of reinforced plastiboards. A small pink and blue toy horse hung from one of the beams, its long silver-blue mane caught on a ragged board.
Children.
Her gut tightened and rolled.
What did they do to the kids?
Dead, or taken captive?
She forced herself to turn away from the toy. How many people had been taken, or were dead? Men, women, and children. God, the kids. Grief, she didn’t have the time for it now. She shoved the emotion into a box, locked it, and mentally buried it under six feet of fastcrete.
“Sergeant?”
Cora forced her features into a cold mask before she risked a reply. “Give me a minute, need to make sure we’re safe.” Not entirely a lie, but the man didn’t need to crawl around through her mind, and she wasn’t going to open the door for him.
She dropped down onto her belly and crawled forward on her elbows enough to peer around the corner. Left, then right, left again.
Movement.
A shape.
A survivor? They’d been kept safe because of where they’d been when the attack had hit but was it possible for others to have found their way into the shelters and tunnels? If so, could this be one of the colonists searching for other survivors?
Hope surged and died in the same heartbeat.
Human’s didn’t have wings.
He followed the woman, keeping close and dropped to one knee as she moved belly crawled into position. Stone didn’t stop himself when the urge struck him to look over the woman’s body. He was human. Male. And she was attractive, but definitely off limits. The woman had a weapon, knew how to use it, and Lawbook wasn’t the type to let unwanted contact go unanswered. Stone smiled. He could respect a woman who didn’t allow other’s to walk over them.
She tensed, and he followed her gaze, eyes narrowed. A shape. Human? It was on two feet, but that didn’t mean they’d found a survivor. If they tracked down another fighter, there might be new information they could use against the enemy. Or at least details about survivors, ships and weapons.
The figure took a step into a pool of light, vanishing a moment later when it moved into the darkness once more. His heart threatened to climb out of his chest. A band tightened around his ribs. Warmth drained from his body, and he pressed his lips into a tight, thin line to keep from making a sound.
Wings.
Black wings glinted as they lay folded against the creature’s back.
He closed his eyes, but he could still see the alien. The image imprinted in his mind. Tall, slender-bodied, over two meters tall, the body closer to a squat triangle, its head attached to the highest point of the triangle. The word didn’t fit the shape of the alien, but it was the only thing his mind was willing to offer him. Geometrical shapes, instead of the softer forms he’d come to expect in living beings. Harsh lines instead of gentle curves, or well-rounded muscle. The wings. Not reptilian or feathered but there’d been an odd glint to the folded shapes against the alien’s back. A glimmer. Colors. Scales? On wings? Every depiction he’d seen of winged creatures had been either the delicate membranes insects used, or the thin skin stretched between the finger-like structures within a bat’s wings. Feather, he’d have accepted feathers as standard, more than enough birds existed on Earth.
But scales?
The more he learned, the harder the blow from reality struck his gut.
Aliens.
Freaking aliens. With wings. Had anyone mentioned the wings?
His fingers trembled.
No, he wasn’t going to lose it, but damn. Wings.
Jakob trembled as he stumbled down the tunnels, one man behind him, teenagers in front of him, but no sign of Gail. The hatch closed. Secured. It wasn’t what he’d expected. Gail. She should be with him and Pippa. He had to get to them, but the hatch had closed before she’d had the chance to join them.
Anger bubbled into life. Hands clenched as he glared at those around him. Nothing changed. The trapdoor remained locked above them. He closed his eyes and turned away. She didn’t deserve to be locked out. Nor did the others. They were friends, family, people he’d grown up with. People he should have helped. But he didn’t stop. None of them did.
“The attacks are still going on, mostly toward the center of the colony. A few signals, broken though. Scans say they’re running blocking tech, preventing messages from getting out. If we’re close enough to the signal, then we hear it, but anything else is nothing but static.” A male voice, calm and confident despite the situation.
Hoods down, masks off, they saved what they had left of their back up oxygen. He frowned as he glared at the speaker. A teen like him. One he knew from school. He tried to put names to faces, but his mind refused to obey him, half lost in the shock of what they’d all been through. Simon? Frank? No, those names didn’t fit the face. He swiped his hands down his legs then shook them out. “What about the others? We left a lot of people behind. We have to wait for them.”
“They’ll either join us through one of the other hatches, or they’re lost. We can’t risk being snatched up by those things, not when we don’t know what they’re doing with the captives, or if they’re killing anyone they get their hands on.”
“No,” he said, steps faltering. Claws, he’d seen a flash of long, claw-like appendages, hadn’t he? “We can’t leave them behind. It’s wrong. They’re people, like us. We have to be able to get to them, to help them. They’re dying. A second longer and it could have been you, me, any one of us on the wrong side of the door. Now you expect us to wait as they kill everyone we’ve ever known or loved?”
“Are they? We don’t know that. We haven’t seen anyone killed yet.”
“What else do you think is happening?” A new voice, a woman’s. One from the stairs.
“I don’t know.”
His heart sank at the answer.
“None of us do. But we will. We’ll find out.” The male continued.
Doors opened and closed behind them. Sealed, locked. No way of others behind able to follow them. They’d be dead. Or prisoners. Same thing when they didn’t know what was going on. Men, women, children. All lost. No going back.
“We’ve got to get I contact with other survivors. We can’t be the only ones.” Jakob forced himself to think clearly, to go over their options, however slim they might be. But what if they were the only ones left? If the aliens had already captured or killed the r
est of the colony and only this small group remained? He didn’t voice his concern, he didn’t have to, he saw it reflected in the faces all around him, but no one expressed the doubt.
Not this time.
8
Cora didn’t move, she didn’t dare, not with the all too close presence of the alien. She forced her breathing to remain normal, slow, in through the mouth, and out through the nose. Her mask silenced the sound of breathing, but the cold seeped its way past the thin layers of cloth and protective gear. The emergency suits weren’t designed for heavy use, it wouldn’t tear easily, but it could be cut. Not a risk any of them could take.
Wings. Okay, after everything else she’d seen she could accept a weird ass monster alien with its odd body and the way it walked. Graceful and ugly all rolled into one. She didn’t need this, any of this. All she’d wanted was one night in the bar, relaxing and shit talking before she caught up with work, sorted through papers, reports, and any personal messages. Not this.
A small noise drew her attention and allowed herself a brief glimpse at the merc before she turned away.
Paler than he had been, through the mask shielded his features, it did nothing to mask the color. When you first had alien life thrown in your face, it was bound to have an effect on you. He reached out, fingers brushing her arm. She shifted enough to meet his gaze and still be able to watch for problems, then arched an eyebrow.
“You saw that?” His voice carried through the comm channel, a tremble in the words.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Not in the mood, but thanks.” She turned away, searching for sins of the aliens. How many had landed? Three ships involved in the attack but they knew nothing more. Size? Weapons? Reason for the attack? Cora tried to focus on one thing at a time, but it didn’t come easily. She’d seen weapons in the grasp of both of the aliens who’d walked on hind legs. Were there other aliens? She’d seen three types so far. How had they reached the colony? Dropships? Shuttles? Or however, they’d made their way into the territory. Unless they had a means of transporting their people without ships? Who knew exactly what they were capable of doing?
Stone laughed, the sound muffled, barely audible despite the comm. “I like your sense of humor, Sergeant.”
“Can’t say the same about yours.” Was the damn man flirting? If he believed this was time to hook up and bonk like bunnies, he was insane.
“Yeah, well I’m used to being on my own.” He edged closer to her position. “What do you think about them?” His head almost touching hers.
“Not human. Anything else I don’t have enough information to be able to give you an answer.” What did he think, she could take a peek at something and know it all? She wasn’t a wet behind the ears second lieutenant.
“Sorry, didn’t think. Not like me. Guess this is getting to me, the idea of aliens invading.” He shook his head and eased back from her, moving near silently. Only the occasional shifting of rubble beneath his feet gaze away what he was doing.
Cora ignored him. The aliens. It didn’t matter if she remained still or not, they were still out there, and the chill now seeped into her skin, down to the muscle beneath. Soon enough, it would enter her bones. They’d all face the same issue. These were emergency suits, not designed for long term use in zero atmosphere situations even if they were military grade. If they used them for too long, without being able to step into sealed units and refresh both their oxygen requirements and warm up, the cold would become too much for them, and hypothermia would set in.
A change in equipment. Refresh the oxygen. Build other supplies. And go over what they knew, information wise. Then move. Get to a place where they could restock, find better environmental suits, or at this point full military suit. With all of the added extras which went with their issued gear. Her jaw clenched. Did any of the hidden caches the merc had mentioned, contain stolen suits? This one time, she’d let the owner off with a warning, if they were still around or alive.
“What are they doing with the bodies?” Her grip tightened and relaxed around the hilt of her sidearm. “It doesn’t make sense.” She was missing something here. Hell, she was missing a lot, but the lack of bodies or survivors played on her mind.
“Experiments.” Gunny settled down behind her. “Food. Fuel. Information. Could be any of the four or for a reason we haven’t come up with yet. They’re aliens. We can’t think of them as human, with the same drive and desires as us. Treat everything as new, unknown, watch, learn, report. It’s about all we can do at this point.”
“And stay alive.” She closed her eyes, then blinked back the unwanted emotions. She’d have time to react when they were safe. Or she wouldn’t live long enough to deal with the mental fall out. Either was fine by her as long as the information reached the Unified Terran government.
“Goes without saying, Lawbook.”
Silence settled over the group, with only the occasional shuffle of weight, changing location or position to prevent muscles from cramping, but still, they waited. Three more sets of aliens appeared and disappeared in and out of the remains of the colony.
Her limbs ached, head pounded, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. With the suits, how the oxygen was recycled as much as the rescue suits allowed, they were all suffering. “We can’t stay here much longer.” Her mouth protested the sudden need to work, dry, the familiar pull between tissues as the gummy sensation was brought under control.
The Gunny grunted.
Cora opened up her comm, after holding up one finger and pointing to the implant, and listened. If there was anything out there. A survivor, beacon, military alert, anything at all, she’d hear it unless it came from off planet, as long as they weren’t out of orbit she had a chance to listen to them. In silence, she moved through the channels, listening to each one for five minutes before she moved to the next. In a perfect situation, she’d have listened for fifteen to twenty minutes, but they didn’t have enough time. By channel seven, frustration set in, but she continued to watch the time as she listened.
Nothing.
A planet load of nothing, piled on top of her shoulders.
She moved to change the channel.
“--survivors?” Male voice, young, trembling, and only one damn word.
She gestured at Gunny, then pointed to the comm and held up seven fingers.
The older man nodded and tapped his own implant.
Cora waited. Had she misheard? Imagined it? No, she was too focused on the situation to have allowed her imagination to stray.
“Pleas----we n--d help. Survivors...” static swamped the words.
Gunny caught her attention and indicated she should reply.
“This is Sergeant Cora Bloodlaw, do you copy?”
A crackle. Silence. Crackle. “Repeat please.” Hope filtered through the words.
“Sergeant Cora Bloodlaw, Marines. Do you copy?”
“Thank the stars.” The young man gasped. “Thought we were all alone here.”
“Where are you? We’re from the colony, you can stick to local names, not the formal.” Most of the busy places in the colony had gained nicknames, which people used instead of the assigned name. “We’re no longer on our own here.”
“S-- them.” Crackles flared up and settled once more. “Under the rooster. Three down.”
Three floors down. “Bolt hole?”
“Yes, s--led. Safe.”
The Rooster. She closed her eyes, letting her mind bring up the layout of the colony. “We’ll be there in under an hour unless we run into problems. Don’t broadcast but listen for us. Bloodlaw out.”
“We’ll need supplies before we reach the Rooster,” said Gunny.
“Figured that one out. We might be able to hit one of the dumps along the way, but it’s going to be tight.”
“Just the way we like it.” The older man flashed a grin, mischief dancing in his chocolate eyes. “Time to get moving.”
“We have contact.”
Jakob took a deep breath at the news. Marines. People who knew what they were doing. He could think, take a breath, calm himself down. No matter what else happened, they were no longer alone. Hope. A slender thread, but it was one he could cling to. “Once they get to us we’ll be safe, right?”
“No idea.” One of the women leaned back against a wall. “We might be. We could be in a worse mess if those things listen in. They might be able to trace the signal and find us.”
“Which is why we’re not going to open communications again. We listen, send nothing unless we’re told its safe. It’s the only way we can have a chance to remain hidden.”
A door on the far side of the chamber opened up, a woman, too older to be in school, but a face he recognized. Hope surged to life as he pushed himself to move. “Salla?”
“Jakob?” Relief chased the worry from her features. “God, I didn’t know who else would make it down here. I didn’t see anyone on the way down, not since I left the shop. It’s chaos up there.”
Salla, which meant Duncan would be with her. He peered behind Salla, but of the older man didn’t appear. “Where’s your dad?”
Her jaw set. “Gone. They took him. I couldn’t stop them. He wouldn’t let me. Told me to go. Made me leave him.”
“Not dead?”
“He was alive when they pulled him out of the store.” Emotions vanished, her face a mask. “Don’t know what else they’ve done, or if his suit is in one piece. I don’t have enough information to say if he’s alive or dead. But if he’s dead, I hope it was quick.”
“God. I’m sorry.” How many more were either dead or in the hands, claws, tentacles, whatever, of the aliens? “I don’t know how many we’ve lost. Or will lose.” The entire colony? Everyone he knew and loved? “They attacked without warning.”
“Yeah, I guess, or we’d have been warned.” Salla looked back over her shoulder at the closed door. Sealed, protecting them against anyone else entering unless they had the right codes, or had someone with them who knew how to get them to work. “Your parents?”