Hell's Own

by T S Weaver

  Oh, hell no, she hadn’t hit him. He growled and took a step toward her.

  “A single punch, same as I’d use if anyone insisted on disrespecting my sergeants.” The Gunny smiled. “Now, is there anything else you two need to talk about? No, I thought not. Matter over and done with. I’m ready for a decent nap if you can find me something to rest my head on. Getting a bit old for hard floors and no relief.”

  Stone ran his fingers over his cheek. Tender but it would pass. “I don’t believe you did to me.”

  She didn’t answer, without a word she turned her back on him and walked away.

  “Hey, answer me.”

  “She doesn’t have to, and I recommend you leave her alone unless you want another introduction to her fist.” The Gunny slid down onto his back, then rolled onto his side. “Damn ribs, fuser worked, but does nothing for the bruising or anything else.”

  “I can’t let her get away with punching me. Are you out of your mind?” The words escaped before he had the wit to prevent them. “If this gets out I’ll be a laughing stock.” Not entirely true, but there were those who would make his life interesting. He frowned, only now realizing the other man was lying down. “You’re looking worse.”

  “Why, because she’s a woman?” Gunny didn’t rise to the bait.

  “Hell no, because I didn’t strike back. I let her walk away.” He worked his jaw, checking his teeth hadn’t been loosened. “She’s the first person I’ve let walk away from me after hitting me.”

  “You in the habit of being punched?”

  “It happens from time to time, but as I said, she’s a first when it comes to getting off without payback.”

  “And why did you do that?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but the words refused to come. For once in his life, he didn’t have an answer.

  “I’ll tell you why. You need her, and the others. Doesn’t matter how strong or smart you are, you’re going to need her skills and the others will turn to her for guidance when I’m gone.” He coughed again. “Which won’t be long now. Blasted ribs. I wouldn’t mind if it didn’t hurt like a son of a bitch.”

  Stone turned away, his gaze searching the shelves. Without another word, he grabbed a tote, yanked it open and pulled out two folded blankets. One he balled up, placing it beneath the Gunny’s head, the other he spread over the man.

  “Knew you’d see sense. You don’t live long in your line of work unless you’ve learned to keep your temper under control and make the smart choices. Not always the right ones, but the smart ones.” Gunny closed his eyes. “Shit, this wasn’t the way I wanted to go out. Crushed by a building because alien bug monsters decided to pay an unscheduled visit wasn’t anywhere on my list.”

  “You have a list. How many options did you come up with?”

  “Several. All of them involved an aged scotch, a willing woman, and a warm bed.”

  “Not a blaze of glory then?”

  “That’s for the young bucks, not old-timers like me.”

  Old? The Gunny couldn’t be more than ten years his senior.

  “Years in service can age a man, especially if he doesn’t have a wife and family waiting for him. Shit, any decent woman wouldn’t want a part of the life I’ve led. Away more than I’d ever been home. She’d have to be willing to make a home on one of the colonies if she wanted to see me more than once every two or three years. Who wants to deal with the shit passed down to dependents, or be the one waiting at home for the knock on the door. No, better this way. No one to complain about the paperwork and disposal of remains.” The Gunny’s voice faded until it trailed off, and only the rattle of his breathing remained.

  They were running out of time.

  Jakob brought up the rear, hurrying those who lingered to follow Salla and the others through the doors. Only when the last of them were safe on the other side did he step through and secured the door behind him. They’d followed the same routine with each cavern they’d passed through. Six chambers, two tunnels, each with multiple offshoots, now lay behind them. Enough to buy them time, at least long enough to wait for the Marines to arrive.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it beat doing nothing.

  “We should be able to rest for a time here. Maybe long enough for the rescue team to reach us.” Keeval settled down onto an upturned box.

  “Rescue? Is that what you believe they’re here to do?” Jakob pulled out his handheld as he walked over to the racks stacked with supplies. Boxes, sealed bundles, a few marked with their contents, others missing the labels.

  “What else would they be up to? And what are you doing?”

  “Inventory. We need to see what we have here. Items we’ll need if we have to move.” Most of the items still had a barcode in place. Scanning the packages would make it easier than tearing them open and adding the data by hand. “And they’re survivors, like us. Didn’t sound like a full squad, which means they won’t have the ability to get us off world. Not unless there are pieces of information they haven’t shared with us.” Which was entirely possible. He hadn’t had much to do with the military. Sure, he’d seen a few in passing, run into one around the colony at a store, or event. But by and large, the civilians and military didn’t mix, not when it came to minors.

  He snorted at the idea. There were no minors anymore, not in that sense. They’d all had a shock, been introduced to a situation no one expected, there were children, those too young to fully understand the impact of the attack, and everyone else. Where the line was drawn depended on the individual. Under five, yeah, children. Between five and ten, it varied, mostly children, but some now had a dull light in their eyes, the one which warned they’d seen too much and their world had changed.

  “Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. I mean, if there were any real troops left, they’d be out in the colony, fighting. Not wandering around to help us.”

  For all, they knew the small group headed their way comprised of the only members of the military left who were on their feet and ready to work. “It’s like here, look around you. How many adults do you see?”

  “Five, at least by current standards. Add in the upper teens and the amount triples.”

  “Right. Then why didn’t more adults make it with us?” He ran the handheld over the containers as his mind continued to put the pieces together. The silence which had settled in over the group as they’d traveled through the tunnels had given him plenty of time to put the pieces together, and he didn’t like what it suggested.

  Keeval fell silent.

  “Because they were picked off first. The adults were protecting us kids, making them an easier target. Stop for a minute and take the time to watch Salla, her father was taken, she wasn’t. She was deemed the lesser threat like we were.” He moved to the next set of boxes. “We’re weaker. Which means the aliens are intelligent.”

  “Well, obviously, or they wouldn’t have attacked without being seen first.”

  Jakob bit back the impulse to jump Keeval. He took a deep breath and continued. “This has been thought out. They knew there are children here, pre-teens, teens, babies. They could have chosen the soft targets first, but did the sensible thing and took out the adults, the men, and women who might build a resistance, who might fight back, first.”

  “Resistance? What do you think this is, a long term invasion?”

  “I don’t know, but it would make sense. You don’t come all this way, from wherever they live, for a hit and run. Fuel, time, manpower, all the resources involved, it all adds up to a lot more than a casual, hey look over there, let’s go blow shit up.”

  “How does a nerd like you figure this out? You’re not a fighter, you’re one of the chess kids.”

  Jakob turned away from the shelves and leaned against them. “Chess includes tactics. You have to be able to see the long and short term goals, think at least five moves in advance, longer if you’re able. And spot the weaknesses in your opponent’s strategy.” He gestured to Keeval. “You do the same in a
team game, but you’ve got a coach figuring the majority of it out, sending signals to the quarterback, or team captain.”

  “Yeah, alright, makes sense. So being a nerd has advantages?”

  “As does being a jock. Strengths and weaknesses.” He shrugged. “I can’t run as fast as you, but you’re not able to see as far ahead as I can, at least for now.”

  “You saying I’m not smart?” Keeval stood, darkness flashing across his eyes.

  “No, I’m saying you have skills I don’t and vice versa.” Never get involved in a discussion like this with a jock. “If I needed a man to figure out how fast the ball needs to move to strike the right target, I’d come to you.”

  “Ball, right. What good is it now?”

  “If you can throw a ball with accuracy, and you can, then you can throw a grenade or another weapon with a better chance of it hitting the right place than I’d have.”

  “Oh, right. I get it.”

  “Jakob?” Salla waved from the other end of the chamber.

  “Be right there.” With more than a measure of relief, Jakob slid the handheld away. “Be back later. Need to get these all checked.”

  “Send me the file, and I’ll pick up where you left off.”

  The offer, from a jock he’d spent most of his time in high school avoiding, paused Jakob in his tracks. He blinked, then grinned, pulling the pad out. “Thanks, it’ll help. A lot.” A day ago Keeval wouldn’t have offered, but their world, their home, had been turned on its head, and if Keeval was anything to go by, they were all reassessing their roles and status. School was out. Not for the summer, but for as long as they faced their current situation.

  Interlude Three

  Unified Terran Government: Alpha Comms.

  He’d been gone longer than expected, but Sheila didn’t risk voicing the question rattling through her mind. Whatever was going on, they’d find out soon enough when and if Grant returned. He’d been summoned minutes after the information had been passed up the line and now, several hours later, he hadn’t returned. She wanted to know what was happening, why the meeting was taking this long, but like others in Alpha Comms, she lacked the rank and connections to find out.

  Unable to do anything else, Sheila forced herself to focus on her work, but it only added to her growing tension.

  The dead zone remained in place. No signals escaped Pluto, neither did they respond to any attempts to hail them.

  Could be a malfunction they’re trying to fix.

  She rolled her eyes at the idea. A malfunction which prevented the two ships, December Rain and Wendal should be within comfortable hailing range of the Pluto colony. Close enough to send a shuttle to find out what was happening, if the block stopped communication between the ships and the base. Yet there’d been nothing. As far as she could make out, the vessels remained close to the planet, but it was guesswork as neither ship had reported in as moving away from their assignment to send a signal back to Earth.

  They were blind to whatever was happening out on the edge of their solar system. Something they hadn’t been in two hundred years.

  The door slammed open, crashing against the wall before it bounced back into place with a dull clang.

  Sheila flinched as Grant stormed his way back into Ops. She didn’t need to ask him what was happening to know he’d been overruled, and she watched her screens to make sure she didn’t miss the message. It flashed up on her display. Orders to alert every ship in the system. The nearest one to Pluto flashed up, along with the transponder information.

  Her fingers moved with practiced ease over the keys, details punched in and compressed. The message burst would reach the ship with the smallest of delays.

  Grant stalked behind her chair and leaned in, his voice a hiss of fury. “You won’t get away with this. You and that fucking Sergeant. Believe me, once this is over, I’ll have your guts.”

  She didn’t look back, refused to say anything to him, and refrained from smiling when he stepped back to continue with his shift.

  If she was wrong, so be it.

  But if she was right, then there would be nothing he could do to her.

  11

  Cora didn’t look back at the man, despite his words. Instead, she walked away with her head held high, back straight, features schooled into an emotionless mask. Only once she was out of sight did she shake out her hand to ease the sting from the punch. No broken knuckles or fingers, a bruise later, but nothing she needed to worry about. Hitting him had made sense, though she should have shifted her stance before punching him. The pain wasn’t a problem, the lack of skill behind the blow was. She knew better. Still, the man deserved it. Arrogant. The idea caught her off guard. Was she the arrogant one? Or him? The urge to turn around and confront him again surged into life, but she ignored it. If she was arrogant, it was with a damn fine reason, and she didn’t allow it to rule her decisions, or how she worked. Her time in the Marines had taught her several valuable lessons. Including the fact you didn’t reach the rank of sergeant unless you were ready to go toe to toe with anyone who got in your way.

  It didn’t mean throwing punches anytime a fellow Marine decided to flex their muscles. But being willing to knock down the occasional recruit prevented the rest from determining you weren’t worth listening to.

  Marines respected strength, the ability to command, and a calm head in the middle of chaos.

  Like Gunny.

  Her throat tightened. The Gunny wasn’t long for this world, and walking away from him wouldn’t change a damn thing. They had to leave, and soon if they wanted to reach the other survivors. Could she risk waiting for Gunny to pass?

  Have to. We don’t leave a man behind. Especially not to die alone, on a world not their own. He’d have waited for her, or anyone else in the small group and she’d do no less. Only a handful of colonists had been born on Pluto, maybe twenty children since she’d arrived. Not that she kept a close eye on the birth announcements. Not her family. Not her problem.

  Except they were her problem now. If there were young children in the mix, it would slow them down. No, she wouldn’t think about it, not until she could see the situation for herself.

  “Sergeant?” Lackey lifted his gaze. “What next?”

  “Gunny.” She didn’t glance back at where she’d left the older man.

  “He’s doing better?” Hope flickered across the corporal’s eyes.

  “No, this is...” her words trailed off. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry. “He’s not going to make it, internal bleeding. All we can do is make him comfortable.”

  “No, you’re wrong. You didn’t pay attention to the readouts,” Lackey took a step toward Gunny.

  She reached out and grabbed Lackey’s arm. “Don’t. This isn’t a joke. Or a mistake. Both lungs punctured. Internal bleeding. There’s another problem, a shadow around one lung. I don’t know what it means, but it’s not good. I’m sorry, Lackey. I don’t want him to lose him either, but we don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. It’s in the hands of fate, god, or whoever you believe in.” She could drag it out, she had options, a means of keeping him around for a few more hours, but the end result would be the same. Selfish idea. No one deserved their final hours being dragged out, increasing the pain. Different if he demanded it, but she wasn’t about to make the offer. A shot of pain reliever, a boost shot, and he might make it for another two hours, three if she was lucky. But then he’d die alone. They couldn’t wait, not with the civilians huddled in the shelters.

  Duty.

  Yeah, she fuckin’ hated duty, but it wouldn’t prevent her from doing what was right.

  “You get the kids.” Gunny’s voice, strained but audible, carried through the room.

  “Not yet, but it’s the plan, Gunny.” She pasted on a smile and turned back to watch him. “You need anything?” His eyes closed as she watched him.

  Silence.

  “Gunny?” She took a step, then three before the movement turned into a half run. “Gunny?�
�

  A rattle. His lungs working, but barely.

  She dropped to her knees and reached for his hands. Cool, clammy.

  “Here,” a whispered rumble of a word, “for now.”

  “Gunny, stay with us.” Damnit, she’d convinced herself she was ready to say farewell, but now her heart said otherwise. It wanted him to stay, to live, to do anything he needed to remain with them. “You don’t have to leave.”

  “No choice.” His eyes moved beneath the closed lids. “Going off duty, Sergeant Bloodlaw. You have command.”

  No, she didn’t want to deal with him dying on her. Don’t always get what you want. “Understood, Gunny.” She squeezed his hand. He wouldn’t go into the darkness alone.

  “Sergeant?” Lackey asked from behind her.

  “Few more minutes. Walker is grabbing the rifles, they appeared to be in decent shape when I found them. Plenty of power packs and magazines.” She didn’t turn to address him.

  “How’s Gunny?”

  She shook her head. The hand she held was now limp and lacking the strength she’d always associated with the Gunnery Sergeant. With her free hand, she touched his wrist, finding his pulse. Slow. The gaps between the beats increased each time. Her throat tightened, but she didn’t leave his side. “I won’t let you down, Gunny.” Had she spoken the words out loud, or had they been in her mind? Not that it mattered, either way, he’d have heard her.

  A hand touched her shoulder. Lackey. A small squeeze as the corporal stood at her side, waiting in silence.

  A sigh, long, marked with the rattle she now understood marked his death, the Gunny released his last breath and moved no more.

  How long she knelt at the older man’s side, she neither knew nor cared. Lackey remained with her, neither speaking as she folded the Gunny’s arms over his chest, took his tags, then pulled the blanket over his face. Only then did she stand and turn to glance around the room.