by T S Weaver
“Chicks dig scars.” Walker shuddered, his face a sickly grey-green. “No thanks, one’s enough. Should be spectacular though, if the pain is anything to go by.”
“Wise man.” He edged away from Walker. “I’ll be right back. Don’t want to miss out on all the fun.”
“You’re insane.”
“I know, but don’t go telling everyone.”
“Secret’s safe with me,” Walker sighed and closed his eyes. “Think I’ll take a nap. Yeah, sleep sounds good about now.”
Stone blinked, a haze covering his eyes as he turned away from the injured man. Dust, yeah, that was it. He had dust in his eyes. Wouldn’t stop him from killing a few more of their unwanted guests, not this time.
17
“There has to be a way.” Jakob pushed past Harvard. “You didn’t make a mistake, Salla. I know you. This isn’t your fault.”
Salla nodded once, sharply. “Alright. But it doesn’t change reality. We’re trapped here. Maybe they didn’t update the data, or -- no, Dad checked. He came down here and mapped this out himself. He wouldn’t have missed a solid wall.”
Jakob touched the wall, searching for a sign of a hidden level, a press point, buttons, control panel, or anything they could use. “Has to be something here.”
“No, Dad didn’t add notations for a wall.” She tapped the pad. “I’m missing information, or I’ve forgotten what he taught me.”
Harvard walked along the wall, facing the stone as he searched. His left heel caught, half vanished into the ground as he stumbled back, barely righting himself in time.
“Not a door, a trap door.” Salla dropped to her knees and scuffed her fingers along the small dip which had caused Harvard to fall. “Here, it’s here. Help me clear it.”
Jakob and Harvard joined her, but the others stayed back when Salla snapped at them. Too many people would make the work confusing, but with three of them working together, it didn’t take long to find the outline of the door and the panel next to it. Salla glanced at her datapad again, then keyed in a code.
Metal and stone scraped against each other as the trapdoor shifted, dropping down before it slid underneath the floor. Lights glowed in the tunnel beneath them, and Salla grinned as she looked up and caught the eyes of a dozen onlookers. “Down the ladder, then follow the corridor. It only goes one way, you won’t get lost.”
“One at a time, people. Salla, you go first, Harvard, stay with me.” Jakob organized the group, only realizing he’d given the pilot an order when the first of the civilians began their climb into the lower tunnel.
“And if I decide I’m in charge?”
“You won’t,” he replied, watching as Salla disappeared from view. “Or you’d have sorted that out with the Sergeant earlier on. Wouldn’t leave it this late to get into an argument about leadership.
“Smart.” Harvard’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you want to keep me back?”
“Keep her safe.” Jakob indicated after Salla.
“Always,” said Harvard. A moment later, he was gone.
“Anything we can use to bring the roof down?” Cora called out. If the aliens understood her words, it wouldn’t matter, the odds of them being overheard with the noise of bolts slicing dangerous lines through the cavern, were slim.
“Give me a minute, Sergeant. Think I might... yes. Virgil, your rifle. It one of the adapted?” Ready asked.
“Yes.”
“Swap.” He tossed his rifle to Virgil, catching the other man’s in return. “Lackey, yours is the same, I think.”
“Yep, don’t know where Duncan picked these up but they’re sweet.”
“You don’t know how much. These are capable of handling explosive rounds, not just energy bolts.”
“Yeah, if we had any.”
Ready tapped a pouch on his belt. “I may have relieved the supply dump of a round or two.”
Cora laughed as she picked the next target, dropping one of the nearest aliens, then picked out her next two, firing as soon as she had an opening. “Two rounds be enough?”
“Be better if we use two or three each, but we can do it. It’ll make a mess.” Ready explained as he passed a handful of rounds to Lackey. “We need to hit the weak points.” He pointed out the areas in the ceiling. “We hit those, and it should come down on the rest of those bastards.” He fingered the rounds before loading them. “Keep targeting the new arrivals until you run out of ammo, or the job is done.”
“Covering fire. Let’s keep these critters from going after these two.” She didn’t need to say their names for the rest of the team to know what they needed to do.
A figure lumbered his way behind her and dropped to one knee, rifle in hand. Without a word, Stone began to pick his own targets and fired.
Bodies fell. Shots fired. Grunts, the shudder of explosive rounds striking the rock overhead. A combination of fear and the drive to survive ruled her actions, tempered only by the voice of her trainer. No, not the trainer. Gunny’s voice. She smiled, though she doubted it would be a pleasant one. Not with teeth bared and the need to kill the creatures firing at them, running in their direction, and trying to destroy everything she held dear.
Her Marines.
Stone winced, each time the rifle fired his abdomen protested, bruises awakened from the shock running through his system. He didn’t know how badly he was injured, hadn’t taken the time to run a scan, but it didn’t matter. His teeth gritted. He wasn’t going to whine about a few scrapes. Not when there were other people at risk. People he hadn’t wanted anything to do with when he’d first been forced into working with them, but now, somehow, had become important to him.
He fired again and again, not missing, not daring to miss. Time. All they had to do was buy enough time and space for Ready and Lackey to bring the ceiling down. He smiled, anger building as he continued to fight. He’d kill them. Kill all of them. Every single foul creature now charging toward him with death in their eyes. “Come and get me.” The words escaped before he had time to stop them. He laughed as the aliens fell. Thick purple blood, or goo, whatever they called it, splattered across stone and plastiboard. Death. He was death to them. A walking, breathing, laughing grim reaper ready to send them back to hell.
Had he spoken, not just thought the words?
It didn’t matter.
“Grim reaper here, your time is up. Go back to hell where you belong.”
“Not here, you don’t belong here. This is our hell, not yours. It belongs to us. Not you.” Lawbook screamed her defiance at the oncoming horde. “Hear me, you warped bastards? We’re Hell’s Own, not you.”
Explosions rang out. Rock, dust, debris, and bodies tumbled down. Cracks widened, the second wave of explosive rounds struck the roof of the cavern. The ability to hear what was happening in the chamber died with the loss of the remaining air. The bolts, explosions, the cries of human and aliens alike, all now muffled and lost with the stolen oxygen.
Hell’s Own. Yeah, the name fit both the fighters and circumstances.
They were all insane, and he no longer cared.
Jakob remained silent as the last of the group made their way down the ladder, leaving him on his own. He wasn’t moving. Not until he knew if the Marines were following them. He couldn’t abandon them. Not after all they had done, all they continued to do to keep his friends safe.
A muffled sound, then nothing but the rumble beneath his feet. Dust shook from floor and ceiling alike, but the sounds were gone. He checked his datapad. No oxygen. They’d expected this, it had been one of the reasons they’d all pulled on their suits before they’d made their way through the tunnel. His friends were safe or would be. If he had to, he’d close the trapdoor and cover it so the aliens would be delayed in finding the survivors. If they couldn’t find the door, then they’d be unable to track the men and women who’d vanished down the ladder.
The Marines. Where they alive? Had they died to protect him and the others?
He frowned and took a step
toward the entrance. No, he wouldn’t make that mistake. He had to wait. Find out if there were survivors, then follow Salla into the deeper tunnels. Ones he hadn’t known existed until Salla had shared the information.
He pressed one hand against the wall, letting the trickle of energy from the explosions vibrate into his fingers.
He’d wait.
A few more minutes.
It wasn’t too much to risk when they now fought to keep him safe.
They’d make it.
They had to.
He couldn’t accept any other outcome.
“It’s coming down. All of it. We’ve done it,” Virgil’s voice carried across the comm.
Cora allowed herself a moment, a split second, to look up and assess the situation, only to smile as she realized he was right. Large cracks, open areas of sky above them, the distant lights from the few sources still intact in the colony did little to illuminate the now exposed cavern.
“Move, in the tunnel, move now. Ready, you have two more of those shells?” She gestured for the group to get into the passageway. “Liam, Virgil, get Stone and Walker to the civies. Don’t want them slowing us down.”
“On it.”
“Six left for me. Lackey has four.”
“More than enough. Fire one more each to bring down the rest of the roof.” Cora took a deep breath as the last two shots were fired up at the slender remains of the ceiling. “Rest of you, move. Into the tunnel. Pick up the pace.” The shudder and crack of stone played through her feet as the last part of the ceiling came down with a silent crash. Bodies, black, brown, touches of purple from the liquid in their bodies, all mingled with dust, rock, debris, and pieces of equipment. How much more of the cavern would cave in, she didn’t know, nor was she about to wait around to find out. The floor split beneath her and she jumped, hitting the ground close to the tunnel entrance.
No more time to waste. The entire thing was going.
“Go. Now.” She gave the order.
Like the others, she ran, stopping only long enough to snap the order out to Ready. “Bring down the entrance. One shot each.”
The two men turned, dropped to one knee, and fired.
Dust, the movement beneath his feet, it all built up and still, Jakob continued to watch and wait for the Marines. Explosions, he couldn’t ignore them, not with the way his body reacted to them. He pressed one hand against the wall, holding himself in place. They weren’t coming. He couldn’t expect them to survive. Not after this.
He had to leave, join the others. Find Salla and Harvard.
He didn’t move.
Could he hear anything on the comm? He tapped it into life and listened, half praying, half pleading with the voices within to allow the Marines a chance to find him.
If they were dead, what then?
They still had Harvard, the man was military even if he was Navy, not a Marine. He knew how to fight. Would be able to help them, and Salla wasn’t a wilting flower. She was a fighter, knew how to handle weapons and situations, she’d have to with a father like Duncan.
A hand touched him on the shoulder, and he turned, eyes wide, not expecting anyone to approach from behind him.
“I couldn’t leave you alone out here.” Salla leaned in, her helmet touching his enough to allow communication without activating the comm. The short range comm would be harder to listen in on, but it was still possible if you knew which signals to look for. “No sign of them?”
“No, not yet.” Soon, they wouldn’t be much longer.
“They might not make it. Not after those explosions.”
“They have to.” A prayer, a hope, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise.
The Marines would join him, they wouldn’t let him down.
18
“Move it. Don’t make me shoot you.” Lawbook warned her voice carrying across the comm channel.
“You wouldn’t waste the ammo or energy packs,” Stone replied as she caught up with the main group. “Glad you made it, Sergeant.”
She nodded her thanks but wasted no time in small talk. Her interest focused on the members of her group, she checked in with each of them, and he turned away. Watching the woman do her job wasn’t a good use of his time, especially as walking continued to be a problem. His abdomen continued to complain, the bruises ones he would complain about later. When they were safe. Away from the aliens.
If any of them had dared to follow their now dead companions into the cavern. Nor would they be able to easily track the group now. The idea was a damn fine one, and the tunnel had collapsed behind them thanks to the final two shots. Where there any other explosive rounds left? He’d heard Lawbook ask, but couldn’t remember the answer. Didn’t have a way of finding out without sounding like an idiot, and he didn’t need the information at this point.
“Keep moving,” Lawbook ordered.
What other choice did they have?
He pressed one hand to his aching flesh and grunted. Moving hurt, but at least he was on his feet. Unlike Walker, who couldn’t walk on his own. Two men half walked with him, half carried Walker and the injured man groaned, though there was no atmosphere to carry the sound, the look on the Marine’s face said it all. He was hurting. Badly. The damaged shoulder could be healed, but not unless they found a medic, a healer, doctor, hell, he’d take a vet. Not that he expected there to be one on Pluto, to his knowledge, no one had been allowed to bring pets.
Why anyone would want to transport animals here was beyond him, but there was no accounting for taste.
He frowned, the hairs lifting on the back of his neck as he turned toward the entrance, weapon in hand.
They weren’t alone.
Not possible. The entrance was closed, collapsed. They couldn’t be followed.
Cora turned at the same time as Stone, sidearm in her right hand, eyes narrowed as she searched through the darkness. Her jaw clenched, tension building across her back. Something was there. She could feel it in her gut. No matter what was going on, what else they fought, she wasn’t going to ignore her instincts.
A movement. Small. Tiny compared to what she’d seen before. Impossibly small compared to the aliens they’d already seen. It crawled across the ceiling, no bigger than the length of her arm.
She didn’t think she reacted. Cora took aim, one hand cradling the butt of her sidearm. She cupped it, lifted the weapon, tracing the pattern of the creature’s movement. It darted, not keeping to the zig-zag or straight route. It moved, seemingly at random. But there was a pattern there, one she had to find. She forced herself to relax, her mind finding the numbers until she squeezed the trigger.
She wasn’t the only one.
Four shots struck the black and grey creature, tearing the thing apart.
“If there’s one, there’ll be others. Keep moving. Virgil, with me. Need backup in-case more of these things show up.” She wouldn’t let the aliens find the civilians. If she had to stay here until her air ran out, she’d make damned sure they never located the kids.
No matter what it cost her.
Jakob wrapped his arms around Salla, holding her tight, her muscles tight beneath his embrace. “It’s alright, this isn’t sexual. A friends hug, nothing more.”
She relaxed and leaned into his touch. “We can’t stay here any longer. I’ve told Harvard the route, but they’re going to close and lock the doors behind us, and we’ll be trapped here.”
He knew the words made sense, but he didn’t like it. “I don’t want to leave them.”
“I know, I don’t either, but we have to. They wouldn’t want us to die, waiting for them. You know that. It would be tossing their sacrifice away, making it as if it didn’t matter. Their lives, the fight, they’re back there to save us, not to let us join them.”
He sighed and stepped back from the hug. “Alright, I know, we have to leave.” He took a deep breath and glanced back down the corridor.
A shadow moved over the walls, then two, three or fo
ur of them. Human shapes, running, weapons in hand.
His heart raced, hope burst into life. “They’re coming. They’ve made it.” At least some of them had. “Get the door open, we’re running out of time, we have to get them down into the lower tunnel.” Away from here. Where the aliens couldn’t find them.
And then what?
Interlude Four
Unified Terran Government: Alpha Comms.
“Cavanor,” Grant snapped the single word.
Sheila tensed but shifted her gaze away from the screen. “Yes, Captain.”
“A word. Now.”
“Captain, I’m still trying to reach the colony on Triton, and there’s no reply from any vessels in the area.” It didn’t make sense, the ships should have received the message by now.
“Now, Cavanor.”
She glanced back over her shoulder but didn’t move from her station. “Sir, I have to get this message through, we need a reply.”
“Captain Grant, is there a reason you’re trying to distract Cavanor from her work?”
She turned fully, unable to ignore the command in the man’s voice; one she’d only heard twice before, but it was one she’d never forget. Standing on the observation platform Admiral Roger Stirling held position, back straight, hands at his sides, jaw set, his grey hair cut into the familiar high and tight, his pale green gaze fixed on Grant.
“Admiral, I-- it’s a matter of protocol.”
“And you believe protocol is more important than finding out what’s going on with the Pluto colony? With our two silent ships? And now, apparently, problems forming around Triton?” Stirling curled one hand on the railing.
A light flickered on her panel. Despite her desire to continue the watch the play between Stirling and Grant, the job came first. “Sir, incoming message from Triton.”
“And?”
“Text, not voice. Bringing it up now.” Words flickered across the screen. Ones she’d hoped never to read. Her mouth dried, throat tightened as she swallowed and tried to make sense of the message. To understand what she was seeing. “Pluto’s been attacked, sir. Alien ships. Three ships. Both of our vessels are down. Triton and the other colonies are readying for an attack.”