Hell's Own

by T S Weaver

  He let his gaze flicker to the others and smiled. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be around the military in situations like this. They knew how to work together. Didn’t ask too many questions unless they needed the information, and he had other bodies to hide behind if the invaders came after them.

  No one spoke as he reached for the now cleared area and brushed the dust away from a small trap door. Not large enough for anyone to use, but it wasn’t meant to be. He yanked the door open and punched in the code. To the right, a door clunked. He tensed from the vibration beneath him. If they were heard, it wouldn’t be long before they had trouble breathing down their necks. He swallowed down his fear as the door dropped down five inches and slide out of sight.

  Lawbook tapped his shoulder and indicated he should go first.

  Fine by me. Staying out on the surface increased the chances of them being spotted. Stone leaned in, letting his helmet touch hers. “Left of the door, hit the red button to close it.” He shifted position until he could put his foot on the top rung of the ladder and began the journey into the darkness. His mind raced, images of the passageway, the problems they’d face. He hadn’t joked about booby traps. A few of the tunnels had been claimed by men like him, for tasks they wanted to complete in secret. Unless there was damage below, they’d be able to avoid most of the problems.

  The trapdoor closed above him, vibrations playing through the ladder. Not enough to be dangerous, but he paused in his descent. He didn’t look up, and continued down the ladder, jumping the last two steps and stepping aside to allow the others a place to stand.

  One by one, the others joined him, the small group gathered in silence waiting for the last of them. For Lawbook.

  The damn woman didn’t understand; she placed herself in danger by covering the rearguard. No, maybe she did understand, which only made it worse. Either she was convinced this was a part of her duty to the men under her command, or she didn’t care if she died as long as her people remained alive. Marines. He’d never understood them.

  She jumped the last two steps and glanced around as he switched on the small torches attached to his helmet. Her gaze caught and held his as she nodded.

  He was still in charge. All right, he knew what to do. He beckoned for the others to follow him. Leading marines, not something he’d planned on, but they’d be able to survive unless by following him. No dead bodies.

  Bodies he hadn’t seen. Hadn’t been able to get to the bottom of why the dead had vanished. He would. In time he’d get all the answers he needed, and be ready to part ways with the marines, and in doing so, he’d be able to get on with his life. His ship. His means of escape. He’d never have to deal with the damned military again. Not unless he ran into them elsewhere. It wouldn’t be on Pluto, not with the aliens around.

  He didn’t waste time checking on the group and picked up the pace. He half ran, half jogged, down the tunnel, gaze ever moving, searching for signs the tunnel had been damaged or changed. Five minutes down the corridor, he paused, throwing up a hand to indicate the rest of the team needed to stop.

  Team?

  Oh, hell no, he wasn’t about to start thinking of them as a team. Not his team. A group of men he’d been forced into working with, ones he’d be grateful to see the back of.

  Light filtered down from above, pale, barely there, but enough to warn him what he was running into. A crack, wide enough to push an arm into, split the roof of the tunnel. Light, faint, delicate, seeped through from the colony. He peered at it. He strained to listen. Nothing. Only the occasional tremble of a pebble rattling its way from the surface.

  Lawbook moved to his side and gestured to the crack, tipping her head to the left in a silent question.

  He shrugged; he didn’t have an answer to any of her questions. Nor could they stay here. The longer they remained in one position, the greater the chance they would be caught. Sooner they were on the move, the better it would be for all of them, and he could get away from this planet and the danger it presented.

  He could do this.

  Cora kept close to Stone now they were in the tunnels, her mind racing. The crack in the ceiling wasn’t unexpected, not after the way the ground had trembled when they were in the bar. Shakes since had been rare, but still happened. Now she silently hoped the crack wouldn’t spread, deepen any farther. She didn’t need this to crumble in on them. Trusting Stone wasn’t on the top of her list of things to do, but what other choice did she have if she wanted to get to the kids, and get them out without the aliens hearing them, tracking them down and then what?

  What the hell did they do the survivors? The bodies?

  Had she really witnessed the alien play, shoot a piece of wall for the hell of it, then celebrate, the way a drunken Marine might do? Damn, she had to talk with the pilot, find out what he’d been doing in the bar, and ply him for information. In all the times she’d spent in the bar, or others like it, she’d never seen a naval officer in the place. It was too rough for most officers. Which meant there had to be a reason why he’d been present.

  She wasn’t Navy, she understood ground combat, not flying through enemy controlled space. They handled boarding actions, shooting anything in their way, then letting others handle the cleanup, diplomacy or whatever else was needed.

  If the ships are still in orbit, we’re not getting off world anytime soon.

  If leaving Pluto wasn’t an option, then she had to find a way of getting the survivors and her Marines to a safe hideout and plan their attack when they were in a calmer situation. But no matter which way she turned the idea, one problem remained. She didn’t have enough men. Enough people with weapon skills, and combat experience to defeat who knew how many aliens now stood in their way.

  She pushed the ideas to the back of her mind. Find the kids first, plan later.

  The small beams of light from the torches built into the helmet provided enough illumination to keep her from tripping up; still they took things slow. Silence. She was used to silence. Working with her squad, the full team, normally included low conversation through the private comm channel. This time they couldn’t risk it. They had no clue what the invaders were up to, what level of tech were they dealing with, or anything more than there were at least three different types of aliens now on Pluto. Too many questions and no answers, nothing she could reach out for and build up the knowledge she could then share with the UTG.

  She pulled up her scanner, checking ahead of them. The passive scan should fly under the radar, but she couldn’t be certain. As soon as she had the information she needed, she shut it down and continued to follow Stone. The passages narrowed in places, widened in others, small pieces of rubble offered trip points, but she didn’t expect her people to be caught out by them. The same as they had in the tunnels from the bar back to the colony.

  Stone moved to her side, helmet touching. “Almost done, Sergeant. A few minutes more.”

  She wanted to say something, but he pulled away, the contact which would allow communication between them, broken. Civilians. They never understood what was needed unless it was drummed into them. She gestured to the rest of the group, keeping them tight, not spread out. They needed to be close enough to communicate, which went against her instinct to separate them out. If they were attacked, being bunched together offered two options, the ability to communicate and fight as a team, or be mowed down together.

  Her leg ached as she walked, the reminder of the bruise she’d gained from the bar. The others had their own problems, scrapes, bruises, nothing which threatened their lives, but enough to remind them they hadn’t come through unscathed. Despite the loss of Gunny, they’d been lucky. They hadn’t been spotted, no other series injuries, and they would find the kids soon enough.

  Stone paused after they’d taken a turn left, and rested one hand against a half-hidden door. He pointed to it as if he believed she wouldn’t see what he was standing by. Her hand clenched, and she forced herself to relax. Whatever the man thought, she wasn’t a
bout to let her anger get the better of her. She gestured to the door. Did he have the code the way he had when he’d punched the right one in to gain access to the stairs?

  The others waited behind her until the door opened. Airlock. Same as the one they’d used to gain entrance to the supply dump. Bigger airlock, enough for four people at a time. Fine, she didn’t want to hang around waiting for one or two at a time to gain entrance to the safehold the kids had run to. Smart kids, she didn’t know how many others would have thought of running in time.

  But if there was one group of survivors, there would be others. And with those groups she’d find other fighters, or people willing to listen to her, follow orders and fight back. This was their home, and they’d want it back. Without the UTG sending help, it would be a long, hard struggle, but no one ever said joining the Marines would be an easy game.

  She stepped into the airlock with the first group, waited for the system to run through its cycle and indicated she would be the first one out. The kids needed to know who was in charge, they were safe. Stone scowled but didn’t try and push himself forward. She checked the readings before opening the helmet. Oxygen supply still working, fresh, without the background taste she’d come to associate with stale air. “We should be clear, readings are all in the green.”

  Helmets opened, the soft clicks and hisses filled the background as she stepped forward, moving deeper into the chamber. Large, grey walls, softly lit by emergency lights. Enough to allow them the ability to see what was going on. But no children. No adults. No survivors.

  She activated her comm. “Sergeant Bloodlaw, we’re here. Repeat, this is Sergeant Bloodlaw, I’m here with my team.” If they could be called a team when she had an odd mix of Marines, civilians, and one representative from the UTG Navy.

  A loud clunk at the far end of the room drew their attention.

  “Didn’t think they’d be waiting for us here, wouldn’t make sense. They’d hide out in other rooms, give themselves space to run if need be.” Stone grinned and walked past her in the direction of the door as it opened in front of them. “Wouldn’t be sane to be where they would be spotted immediately.”

  The first two figures paused in the opening, outlined by the light behind them. She lifted one hand, allowing them to see she didn’t have a weapon in her grasp now she’d shouldered the rifle. “You’re safe with us, we won’t hurt you.”

  Stone muttered under his breath, but she didn’t look at him. Whatever he said, it wasn’t important. Not now.

  The final members of her group stepped out from the airlock, their steps enough to alert her even if the hiss and whoosh of the airlock hadn’t. She didn’t glance back for confirmation but kept her gaze on the group in front of them, still little more than dark forms presented against the lights behind them. “Do you understand? We won’t hurt you. We’re here to help.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Stone.

  She tried to ignore him. Did the man have nothing better to do than aggravate the situation? “How many survivors do you have?” She walked, slowly, toward the now open door. “What are your supplies? Any with real suits or are you all working with emergency suits?”

  Murmured sounds rose and fell within the survivors before one young, lanky, man stepped forward. “There are twenty-three of us, we all have emergency suits, but we found ten full suits in storage.” He continued to approach, face pale and marked with dust. “We weren’t certain you’d make it. Not with those things above us.” He gestured to the ceiling.

  Twenty-three survivors. More than she’d believed possible. “You’ve done well here. Why don’t you show me what you’ve managed to pull together.” She smiled, trying to appear welcoming. “We can talk about what you’ve seen, who is in charge, and what supplies you’ve gathered.” How were they supposed to guide a group of this size back to the supply dump? Would everyone fit? The air supply, did they have enough? Questions rolled through her mind as she struggled to put the pieces together.

  Gunny. She needed the Gunny’s experience here, and the damn man had gone and died on her. I’m on my own, and I’ve got this. She told herself. She was a marine, not a civilian. She’d been trained. Had people with her who’d been through the same basic training She could, and would, do this.

  “Sergeant Bloodlaw, I wasn’t certain we...” The teenager took a deep breath and straightened. “We assumed we were on our own until you responded. No one else answered. Only you.” He offered a hand. “Thank you.”

  “We’re Marines, it’s what we do.” She softened her smile and took his hand. “You’ve done good here, more than in fact. So, let’s get this part out of the way and see where we go from here.” Ships, they’d need more than one. Or they’d need a bigger ship. One beyond her ability to pilot. Like most marines, she could handle a shuttle, a small hopper designed for traveling short distances, though they could be pushed for longer trips if enough supplies were on hand. “Lead the way.”

  13

  Twenty-three survivors.

  Mason Stone remained silent as the sergeant spoke with the teenager. His mind raced. His ship could take them, but it would be cramped unless he dropped his cargo. His stomach clenched. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his hard-won shipment behind. He silently swore. No point in raising his voice around kids and school teachers. He didn’t need an uptight school ma’am telling him to watch his language.

  “Lackey, you and Ready stay here. Keep your eyes and ears open, we need as much warning as possible if anything happens.” Lawbook called out.

  Ready. His eyes narrowed on the man. He didn’t know anything about him, and little about Lackey. The entire group remained strangers to him, it was better that way. Getting friendly would only make matters worse, they wouldn’t trust him no matter what he did. All the more reason why he needed to part ways with this company as soon as it was viable. He could get to his ship, escape, and keep his cargo. Dumping it only if there was no other choice. The Marines and these civilians could handle matters themselves. He didn’t owe them a damn thing.

  One ship might have a chance. If it ran silent, with every damn shield and damper in place, could slip away. But this lot? Multiple ships? No chance, not without help from the Navy and the damn cowards had left them to die down here. So much for the hero flyboys. Off drinking where it was safe, away from the coming battle. Making up stories of how brave they’d been before they were forced to retreat due to the difference in numbers and weapons. Lots of shiny medals and willing partners for the courageous men and women of the Navy.

  His hands clenched. He glanced at them and forced his fingers to uncurl. No point in letting others see he was unsettled with what they’d found.

  “Stone, you’re with me.” Lawbook indicated he should join her.

  His lips sealed into a thin line. Did the woman believe he would ignore the request? Order. Whatever it had been? She didn’t need to speak and gesture. Maybe it was how she kept her Marines in order. Hah, her Marines. She didn’t own them. The gunnery sergeant was the man in charge, not Lawbook. Or he had been until he’d died. As for Lawbook, she had control of the current situation but lacked the experience to know when she should back down, take cover, and gather information before making a decision. No, this bright spark wanted to rush off, kill the monsters, and make a name for herself.

  He didn’t protest. He wouldn’t be with them much longer. He’d leave her, and all this behind. It was the safest way to handle matters, and he had no cause to fight. Not once he had his ship back. If the aliens continued their conquest of Pluto, he’d be a fool to want to remain here.

  “Mason Stone,” Lawbook introduced him to the teenager. “He’s a trader.”

  “What about the rest of the Marines? Are they with other survivors? Mounting an attack? What about the Navy? How many ships do we have?” The questions tumbled from the teen’s lips. “We’ll chase them off, won’t we? The aliens? I mean, we’re not going to sit here and let them pick us off one at a time? This is
our home.”

  “Calm, you’ve had enough to deal with, and we’ll talk once I’ve had a chance to check the rest of your group.” She placed one hand on his shoulder. “We won’t let you down, trust me, but first I need to find out about your group. Who’s with you. The skills and supplies on offer here, before we plan our next move.”

  Trust? Was the woman insane, or was it a Marine thing? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t made the promise, offered these kids a sense of false hope. He didn’t have to deal with the fallout, nor would he attempt to dig her out of the mess when it all went wrong. And it would. No doubt about it. Yet now he found himself next to Lawbook, leaning in as he spoke if a voice not designed to carry beyond the intended ears. “You’re making a mistake. Be honest with them, it won’t be as bad when we’re left scrambling for answers.”

  She caught his gaze, grey eyes calm and relaxed. “I’m telling them the truth, Stone. I’m going to find a way to get them to safety. It won’t be easy, but few things are in life.”

  Crazy Marine thing then. “Your funeral.” He’d tried. No one could claim otherwise without lying. “Shouldn’t have wasted my breath.”

  “Yet you did anyway. Says more about you than me.” A small shrug. “You may not like it, but we’re going to get these civilians out of here, get them off world along with anyone else we find, then come back for more. Marines don’t leave a man behind.”

  “I was under the impression the code only applied to fellow Marines.” Stone replied.

  “Or those we’re sworn to protect.” Her jaw tightened, then eased. The irritation was gone in a moment. “You’re either with us or against us, and if you’re against us, you’re with the aliens.”