by T S Weaver
“No idea, they weren’t with us tonight. Should have been but you know how things work.” Or had worked. If his parents were alive, they’d find their way into the tunnels. Either here or elsewhere in the colony. Safe rooms, bunkers, the rest of the options, there had to be others who would be huddled in their own shelters, unable to let people know where they had fled to. If Duncan hadn’t escaped, hadn’t made it to the tunnels in time, how could his parents have a chance. They were soft. Not weak, but not fighters. Educated, scientists but not soldiers.
Nor was he.
Real, the aliens were real. No matter how he tried to push past the revelation, he couldn’t turn his thoughts away from the glimpses he’d caught of the enemy. He didn’t move, but at least his heart no longer pounded against his ribs with the fanatical beat of a man trying to escape death.
He half listened to the conversation or the Marine’s end of it. Lawbook was Bloodlaw, alright, he could adapt. Nicknames were commonplace with the military or had been from his dealings with them. But the Rooster? Which building did they mean? He frowned, trying to remember the layout of the colony, the buildings. Why call one a rooster? Unless... the crest. One structure had a ridge, or close to it, the school. It made sense, as much as anything else did in the middle of a damned alien invasion.
Who would be among the survivors? Children, teenagers, maybe a few teachers. Not fighters. The odds of there being anyone else from the military in the shelter were slim at best. They needed others who could fight alongside them, not kids they’d have to protect and damn civilian teachers. If they were lucky, one or two might know how to use a weapon, but he wasn’t holding out hope. He rubbed his hands, fingers cold enough he was beginning to lose feeling in them.
“If we don’t resupply, we’ll be looking at frostbite and slowing down to the point we won’t stand a chance. Our bodies won’t take the exposure to lower temperatures for much longer. But I know where there are supplies.” He leaned down in the rubble and sketched out a path. Using pieces of plastiboard to mark outbuildings. “It’s a ten-minute walk, under normal circumstances. If we’re lucky, we can be there in twenty, maybe thirty.” Destroyed buildings, the lack of proper suits, and the aliens all combined into potentially dangerous delays.
The Gunny and Lawbook drew close, studying the makeshift map between them.
“Doable. If there are full suits in storage, it will help. If not, extra layers. Pressurized gloves and boots will keep the extremities going, and we’ll have a chance to warm up,” said Gunny.
“From the supply dump to the Rooster is a short run. We’ll need to alert the kids once we’re in place, so they don’t panic due to the delay of us pausing to collect what we need, but other than that, it should work.” She tapped the rock, indicating the supply dump, then moved three buildings over and touched one finger there. “Gunny, isn’t this where you live?”
He peered in. “Yes, and if it’s still standing, there are a few backup pieces we can collect, but we hit Stone’s supplies first. I know I have two combat-ready suits stashed away.”
What else did the Gunny have at his place? His armored suit? If that’s what he meant by combat ready, it gave them a slight edge. At least one man would have the armor needed to face these things. “Time we moved then. I don’t think we’ve seen any sign of the aliens in what, twenty minutes? Thirty?”
“Sounds about right.” Gunny turned to take in the rest of the group. “You heard the man, we’re heading out. You have one minute to check your gear and--”
The rumble hit without warning. Stone flung out one gloved hand to grab the nearest wall. Boards creaked and cracked. Dust danced along the ground as more than one man threw himself into a corner or doorway. Anything they could use to keep the rubble from landing on them. Lawbook forced her body into a tight space which should have been a window, one which belonged on the second story but had been brought down to the ground floor in an earlier shake, or from the weapons, the aliens had used to breach the dome.
Crack.
The noise overhead forced him to look up. The remains of the second floor, what hadn’t yet hit the ground, now shook and rattled above them. A large board, the last of the significant supports, shattered above them.
“Watch out!” He pushed himself away from the wall, half jumping, half diving through the opening they’d used to observe the aliens. The board and the walls it had held up, caved in on them. A cloud of dust and debris tossed into the ‘air,’ blocking out his view of the rest of the group as he did his best to protect his face and mask from damage. All he wanted to do was survive and get out of here.
Was it really too much to ask for?
“Gunny? Walker? Lackey?” Cora struggled free of the plastiboard, her bruised leg offering a running commentary on the pain levels, despite her attempts to ignore it. “Report.”
“Here.” One by one they answered, except for the merc, Stone, and the Gunny.
“Gunny?” She limped through the debris, searching for signs of the older man. Gunny had to be alive, safe, ready to fight. He was the Gunnery Sergeant. The man was a walking legend. “Answer me, Gunny. Don’t make me dig your ass out of here, you’ll never live it down.” Here, he’d been around the last time she’d seen him. Stone could wait, she needed to get Gunny out to prevent the rest of the group from losing heart.
A groan followed the tumbling of rubble in the corner of the building. Movement meant life. Hope surged, and she grabbed the biggest piece of plastiboard and hauled it out of the way. More followed as the other men joined her, digging through the debris, pulling wires out of the way. Cloth, the remains of toys, bedding. It all joined the pile in the far corner. He had to be safe, alive, and ready to fight. Nothing else would be acceptable.
She yanked a wide piece of plaster and board away.
A human-shaped form. No, not just a shape. Gunny’s unmoving body.
Her heart caught in her throat as she cleared the debris from his head. Closed eyes, dust coated mask which she cleaned off with a swipe of her hand. She reached down to his neck and pressed two fingers beneath his chin, watching for signs of life. It wouldn’t be easy to feel the man’s pulse with her gloves on, but it was better than nothing.
A faint movement beneath her fingers.
“We’ve got a pulse. All right, let’s get this cleared off. Need to see if he’s injured.” His eyes moved, a flicker of lashes. Life. He was going to make it. Nothing else was allowed. She glanced at the men working with her. One was missing. She still worked, shifting, lifting, easing things out of the way as they dug the Gunny free. The missing man, her thoughts kept returning to him. Stone. Had something happened to him?
Her stomach rolled.
“Walker, where’s Stone?” She didn’t pause, her gloved hands wrapped around the largest piece of debris left.
“Who?”
“The civilian in the trench coat.” How the hell he managed to justify wearing the trench coat over his suit was beyond her. Cora brushed the dust from Gunny’s face. His eyes moved, a flicker of eyelashes. But not enough to ease her concerns. “We move him now, on three.” She waited until the others were in place. “One. Two... Three.” As one they lifted him up and away from the remains, shifting him onto a flat surface. “Who has a working med scanner to hand? We need to find out what’s going on, injuries, internal and external. Won’t be safe to move him until we know what type of damage we’re dealing with.”
“Here,” said Lackey as he shoved the unit into her hand.
“Thanks. Stone, anyone got eyes on him?” She ran her fingers over the screen, waking it up before the information scrolled into sight.
“Wasn’t he with you.”
“No, he was close but not right by me.” Her mind raced. Had he been blown out of the ruins? No, it hadn’t been an explosion, the tremors had damaged the already crumbling structure. “Check outside.”
“On it.”
She didn’t turn away from the screen. “He’s alive, heartbeat is b
uilding back up. Blood pressure above normal, but within range if you take pain into account.” She scowled, fingers tightening on the thin reader. “Bruised, battered, broken ribs.” She flinched. The ribs could be a significant issue. “Lungs aren’t compromised, but the suit is. Torn in places, but his mask is intact.” The cold would build up faster with the tears in the suit. She moved the med scan over his body again and frowned. No, she wasn’t seeing this. Maybe she was misinterpreting it the wrong way. She wasn’t a medic, it wasn’t in her training to patch things up beyond the basics of making a man stable before getting him to real medical care. “Shit, alright, we need to get him ready to move.”
“Be easy if he was awake.” Walker murmured.
“Yeah, I know.” Moving the older man would prove interesting. “Gunny? Can you hear me?” She patted the side of his face, taking care not to damage the mask. No cracks in it, which was a blessing. You couldn’t truly touch his face with the protection in place, but it was still the best chance she had. “Open your eyes, old man. I need you up and moving. Don’t want to let the side down, or have these young ‘uns think you fell asleep on the job.” Her hand trembled as she tried to wake him again. “Hey, you don’t wake up, you won’t get the chance to kill one of those monsters, then you’ll never hear the end of it.”
His lips parted, a crack, then more as his eyes moved beneath the closed lids.
“Come on, almost there. Open up, you can’t leave me on my own to keep this lot in order.” She didn’t need him, not in that way, she knew how to handle a team. But with Gunny it would be easier, she’d have a reliable man at her back she could trust to make a balanced decision. Hell, her training had never prepared her for an alien invasion.
He groaned the sound muffled through the mask, eyes open but unfocused.
“He’s going to make it.” Walker reached out and clapped her on the shoulder.
“We all are unless I decide to remove your hand, at the shoulder.”
Walker pulled his hand back quickly enough she swore she could hear the pop of a vacuum.
“Must be in hell, no way he’d let you lot into heaven,” Gunny groaned as he tried to lift his head. “Purgatory. Yeah, we could be stuck in the void, waiting for a decision to be made by whoever is in charge.”
“Good to see you back with us.” Relief washed over her, a chill seeping into her muscles now the immediate danger had passed. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d found a bar to hide out in and had left a clone as a replacement.”
“Like I’d pull a shit move like that.” The older man reached out his hand, blood bubbled on his lips.
Lung damage? No, she didn’t want to think about the possibility as she took the offered hand, clasping his lower arm as she felt his fingers close around hers. “Hey, we have aliens here, who knows how you’d react to their presence. Personally, I’d hoped first contact would include sexy humanoid alien types, all oiled up and wearing little more than loin cloths. But no, we had to pick the monster aliens with crocodile heads and scaled wings.”
“We’re Marines, Sergeant. We never take things the easy way.”
“Fair point.”
“Maybe they keep the sexy ones away from the fighting?” Gunny coughed, his skin graying out around his lips. “For the parties. All dolled up in silk and stuff. Yeah, I can go with that idea. Once we deal with this mess, we’ll have a celebration of our own, and see how they can dance.”
“We can hope.” He couldn’t die. She needed his help, his experience to get them out of this.
“All a marine ever has at the end of the day is the hope he’ll die in bed with a deliciously curved piece of sweet company.”
“Alien company? Your telling me dancing aliens is on your bucket list?”
“Hey, didn’t you ever hear about the old vids, the ones where the captain of the ship kissed and slept his way through a hundred alien babes? Well, if a captain can do it, why not a Gunny?”
She didn’t argue.
Dust and debris clouded his vision. Blades of bitter cold stabbed through his chest and into the muscles in his thighs. His bones ached as he tried to move, joints creaking with the effort as he tried to get his eyes to work. Everything remained fuzzy, out of focus as he blinked. His mouth worked, but his brain refused to catch up with the orders to work. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn he’d woken up after a heavy night on the town, and sinking into the depths of a freshly cracked barrel of beer.
“Stone, you with us?”
Male. One of the Marines? He turned in the direction of the sound and tried to bring the image of the man into focus. His brain refused to latch onto the figure for more than a heartbeat. “Yeah, mostly.”
“Wasn’t sure where you’d got to but it looks like you half fell out of the doorway.”
Stone forced his body to comply as he sat up. Pain rippled through his body, ribs crackled as he tried to stand, thighs ached, bones complained. His jaw clenched. The last thing he needed was to stumble in front of the marines. “Will take me a bit to get back up and moving fully. Took a tumble, but the suit is...” he paused as he ran his hands over the suit, “so much for that idea, two tears. Over my thighs.” Explained the cold. How many other tears would he find? He could patch these two. He ran his fingers over his mask, checking for damage. One piece. The last thing he needed was to deal with a cracked mask. A hand grabbed him by the upper arm, helping him to his feet, and the two men returned to the scant shelter of the damaged home.
The others had gathered around a man. The Gunny. Voices low as concern hung in the air.
“Going to be hard work, with your cracked ribs. But we’ll manage. Not going to leave you behind, don’t even suggest it.”
“Not behind, but as a rear guard.” The Gunny insisted. “You can’t drag me half across the colony. We don’t know what else you’re going to be facing out here.”
“No, you’ll be in the center of the group, same as we’d do with an injured man.” Lawbook insisted, her voice cold and lacking leeway. “We don’t leave our people behind. Not you, not anyone.”
Ah, there was a woman he could admire or at least respect. Hard-nosed, to the point, taking charge of the situation. Not one he’d encourage into his bed, but to fight alongside. Business partner, fighter, anything but sharing his bed. Not a chance. When it came to partners of the intimate nature, his preference ran to the softer curves, gentle eyes, and the need to please. One he didn’t have to fight with to show who was in charge. Love them, leave them, move onto the next woman when he needed company. Nothing permanent, and Lawbook wasn’t the type of woman you walked away from, not unless it was her choice.
He shook off the idea.
“I’m not an invalid.”
“No, but you’re injured. We’ll do this by the book. No arguments. Until you’re back on your feet, you follow orders.” Her voice hardened. “Same as the rest of the team.”
Gunny laughed, wincing as he did so. “You’re one stubborn woman, Lawbook.”
“And it’s never going to change. Wouldn’t be much of a Marine if I couldn’t get a stubborn man see sense now, would I?” She patted the man on the shoulder, then turned away, her gaze catching Stone’s. “Good to see you’re still with us.”
“Because you wouldn’t get into the supply dump without me. No need to butter me up, Sergeant. I know where I stand.” Useful only as long as they needed him, then he could be left at the wayside. Those were rules he could live with.
“You’re under our care, same as any other civie we run into. And Marines don’t leave people behind.” She jerked her head back at the Gunny. “You heard me tell him the same thing, and I don’t want to waste time getting into the same argument with you. Got it?”
“Yes, Sergeant.” He inclined his head. Words, nothing but words. Actions proved what people meant, where they heart lay. Words could be spoken and never followed through on. “Whatever you say, Lawbook. No arguments from me.” No, arguments wasted air. Once he had new equipm
ent, he’d reevaluate traveling with the Marines. He didn’t have to stay with them, and sooner or later they’d run into trouble with the aliens. Not a firefight he wanted to be dragged into. Better to find a safe place and wait out the worst than act too quickly and die in the middle of a firefight with the invaders.
Survival.
Nothing else mattered but getting out of this mess in one piece.
9
“Gunny, I want Stone with you.”
“What?” Stone took a step toward her.
“You’re someone who’s skills I don’t know, putting you with Gunny makes sense. He’s going to need an extra hand staying upright with those cracked ribs. And he knows when to call out if there’s an issue.”
“Don’t go treating me like an invalid, Lawbook.” The older man growled.
The growl did nothing to convince her Gunny would manage without assistance. The scan had told her more than she wanted to know, and they had no medics in their group. Unless they stumbled into a civilian medic among the survivors, he wasn’t going to make it. The internal damage was far more than she’d expected to see. And the shadows around one lung, how the hell was she supposed to be able to decode those? Emotions rose, and she took a deep breath and kept her feelings under control. She wouldn’t allow them to see what was going on behind her eyes. Have the breakdown, if it came, when they were safe, and she knew no one else was watching her. Or she could do what most Marines did, either find a fight, find a bed partner for a night, or drink herself into a sound sleep when time allowed. “I’m not, this is about getting us all to the supply drop. Stone isn’t injured, nothing beyond the bruises and shake up most of us have dealt with. He can act as a stabilizer for you if the pain slows you down. He might be able to fight, be a decent shot, but I don’t know how good, or bad he is with a sidearm.” She glanced from Stone to the Gunny and back again.
Did he know how badly he was injured? The man wasn’t a fool, he had to understand it wasn’t a quick fix situation.