Mission Pack 2: Missions 5-8 (Black Ocean Mission Pack)

by J. S. Morin

  Kubu had finally showed the first signs of fatigue she’d seen all day. Each time she stopped to scan the trail or check for evidence of the others doubling back on them, he flopped down panting. But every time Mriy resumed the climb, he scrambled to his feet and kept pace once more. She was going to miss him when he was no longer able to fit aboard the Mobius. If he weren’t sentient, he’d have made an admirable pet. As it was, she would have enjoyed him as a companion. For the time being, she still could.

  “Looks like we’ll be going inside,” Mriy said. They were nearing the entrance and the precarious bridge that spanned the gap between the rupture in the hull of the Odysseus and the mountain trail.

  “OK,” Kubu replied. “We’ll find Mommy, right?”

  “Yes,” Mriy said.

  A sudden chemical scent in the air stung her nostrils. It grew stronger as they neared the Odysseus, until finally Mriy had to put a hand to her nose to ward off the worst of the reek. While the overall effect was acrid and reminiscent of bile, there was an undertone of char that hinted at fire.

  Kubu whined. He lacked the ability to simultaneously walk and cover his nose.

  “Some local creature must make this scent to mark its domain,” Mriy said, her voice muffled by her hand. “It may get worse once we’re inside. But we have to go anyway.”

  “I don’t like this,” Kubu said.

  “Tanny is inside,” Mriy reminded him.

  Kubu whined again but nodded.

  First across the bridge was Mriy. She kept her balance carefully, smoothing her stride so as not to jostle the structure. It sagged a little under her weight but held. The stench was worse on the other side, and she saw remnants of a husk or pod that must have come from the creature that made the scent. The entryway had been clear last time she’d checked inside.

  Once she was clear, Mriy gestured for Kubu to cross. The oversized canid slunk onto the bridge, trying to mimic Mriy’s grace. For all his physical prowess, Kubu’s kind had not evolved for subtlety of any sort, least of all in locomotion. But he hadn’t bounded across with his usual blithe enthusiasm.

  As he crossed the halfway point, where the two grav sleds had been lashed together, the bridge creaked and sagged. Kubu froze.

  “Slowly,” Mriy said. “You can do it.”

  The bridge was only a few meters across, and the mountainside wasn’t that far below. Kubu could have made the jump with a running start if they’d thought of that ahead of time. Now he had no footing for a jump, and the mountain’s steep slope meant that if he did fall, it might be a long while before he stopped tumbling down the rocks.

  Kubu took a tentative step, and the bridge held. He took another, and the bridge sagged a little more deeply. A few short, gentle steps and he would make it. But with the next step, one of the cables tying the grav sleds together snapped.

  Kubu yelped and tried to jump the rest of the distance. The force of his leap snapped another cable and stole his footing from beneath him. The leap fell short, and Mriy lunged forward to catch him by the front paws. There was just enough time for her to brace one foot against the edge of the hull breach to absorb the shock as her arms stretched taut and felt the brunt of Kubu’s weight try to yank her out of the ship.

  “Help!” Kubu shouted.

  Mriy had a strong grip, but Kubu was frightfully heavy, and his fur was slick. The same natural oils that kept his coat healthy were acting as a mild lubricant to slip him free of her grasp. And while Kubu’s front paws might have been dexterous by canid standards, he wasn’t able to do much in the way of holding on.

  “Kubu falling!” Kubu shouted, whining frantically.

  “Bite my arm,” Mriy said.

  “No!”

  “Don’t break it, just hold on long enough for me to pull you up.”

  Kubu nodded spasmodically.

  Lord, who gave us bounty and the means to hunt, let this work. Pulling all her might into the grip of her left hand, Mriy let go with her right and presented her forearm in front of Kubu’s jaws. With a flash of teeth, Kubu latched on, and Mriy clenched her teeth against the sudden crushing pain as those teeth sank to the bone.

  She knew that if she cried out, she might startle him into either biting down harder and tearing her arm off completely, or letting go and plummeting down the mountainside. There was little chance he’d survive. The pain was a small price to pay for the life of a friend. Letting go with her other hand, she reached back and took hold of the ragged metal around the hull breach. Even though he was more than twice her mass, Mriy pulled, and Kubu rose.

  There was a moment where spots swam before Mriy’s eyes. Lifting Kubu put even more pressure on her bitten arm, but soon enough Kubu caught traction with his front paws and dragged himself aboard. He released Mriy’s arm the instant all four feet were on solid metal.

  “Are you OK?” Kubu asked. “I am very sorry.”

  Mriy let out a giddy chuckle, blood loss and mild shock conspiring to make Kubu remembering to use his pronouns disproportionately amusing. “Yes.” It was more a hope than a promise. One-handed, she unslung her pack and rummaged for the medical kit. It was lucky the Mobius had Mort around to worry about, because the kit had both A-tech and P-tech options. Primitive was exactly what she needed right then. A squirt of antiseptic barely stung at all, her pain receptors far too busy screaming about the gushing puncture wounds. Bandaging the wound was messy. The cloth was soaked red before she’d wound two layers of it, but the adhesive strips to cinch the end in place had science enough to stick.

  “We go now?” Kubu asked. “Find Mommy and everybody?”

  Mriy took a long, shuddering breath, still feeling the jitters of adrenaline. The darkness waited. She watched the bandage a moment, and it looked as if it had staunched her bleeding. Drawing Carl’s sword, she used it to lever herself upright, but once on her feet, she was steady enough.

  Though it was hardly noticeable in daylight, the runes along the enchanted blade gave off a faint glow. For an azrin, it was all the light she would need. She led the way, Kubu following at her heels.

  As they left the vicinity of the entrance, the reek faded. “There are animals,” Kubu said.

  Mriy took a scenting sniff. “You’re right. I smell the crew, too. They’ve been this way, and they’re not alone.”

  “You be careful,” Kubu said. “I hurt your arm. Let me eat the bad animals if they have Mommy.”

  Her first instinct was to object. She was the security officer for the Mobius for good reason, a killer born and trained. But walking by her side was a creature who took up his half of the corridor and part of hers. Even if she was able to fight just fine with either hand, one lame arm was a serious impediment.

  Reaching out with her bandaged arm, she patted Kubu on the back of his thick-muscled neck. “You’re a good boy, Kubu. Let’s go rescue the others.”

  # # #

  There were only colors—greens, browns, and the occasional splash of vivid oranges and violets. The jungle was a blur. Tanny plodded along on the heels of Niang and two navy petty officers, her concentration focused on remaining upright. The jitters from chugging two liters of Café Mobius coffee were wearing off, leaving behind a dull emptiness in its wake.

  “You going to make it?” Niang asked. “We’re getting close to the marines’ patrol routes. The three of us are going to have to turn back.” He wasn’t even winded, the bastard.

  “Can’t. Gotta kept going,” Tanny replied. The tumult of warring emotions was more real than the conversations going on around her. She had a vague recollection of replying to questions, but she could envision Kubu locked in a dank cave, or chained to a stone pillar, or wounded and bleeding in the jungle, whining and wondering where she was.

  “Well, best of luck,” Niang said. He nodded toward Tanny’s shoulder. “That tattoo ought to keep you safe, at least at first. From there you’ll have to convince them. Head back for the Odysseus once you spring them. We’ll keep a lookout around there and pick you up.” He d
idn’t mention what he thought of her odds, but he didn’t sound hopeful.

  “Thanks,” Tanny mumbled. Her guides turned back. She kept moving.

  Time passed weirdly on Ithaca. Dawn had come overhead as the system’s sun peeked out from behind the planet they orbited. Dusk was coming on the horizon as the moon rotated. Tanny had no idea what any of it meant in minutes or hours. With each step, her feet felt heavier. Each breath took more effort than the last. Every time she closed her eyes to bear down and regain her focus, it was that much harder to open them again.

  And then she didn’t.

  There was a split-second sensation of freefall, which no reflex snapped ready to oppose. A dull impact rocked her from face to knees as the underbrush crashed, sounding a million kilometers away. The warm, wet scent of vegetation was the last thing she remembered.

  # # #

  It was barely light out when Tanny came to. Someone was pouring water into her mouth from a canteen. Her throat was so dry she could barely swallow it down. When she coughed and sputtered, the mouth of the canteen pulled away, only to return once the choking stopped.

  “You all right, soldier?” the woman with the canteen asked. “What’re you doing out here?”

  “More,” Tanny said, making a feeble beckoning gesture toward the canteen. Her rescuer gave her another drink.

  “You’re a marine.”

  Tanny blinked and looked her savior in the face. She was square-jawed with long blonde hair tied in twin braids. Her gaze wandered down the woman’s neck, across her collarbone, and to the taut-muscled shoulder with a marine tattoo identical to her own. Every active-duty marine was fit and chiseled—the pharmaceutical regimen saw to that, even if P.T. drills didn’t. This woman was six years removed from active duty, on a world where complex chemical enhancements broke down. Yet she was as sculpted as any marine Tanny had met. Wearing nothing but knee-length leggings and a leather halter-top that looked homemade, Tanny saw a physique she could only envy. Her own muscles had gone slack in recent months, first on sub-standard chemical knock-offs and now denied even that paltry supplement.

  “Sergeant Tania Louise Rucker, 804th Planetary Insertion Division, retired.” She attempted a salute, but it came across sloppy.

  “Corporal Margaret Davies, on special assignment aboard ENV Odysseus. Think you can walk?” She offered a hand and helped Tanny to her feet.

  The journey the rest of the way devolved from an arm thrown over Davies’ shoulder for support to Tanny being carried in her arms. Though she was in poor shape to judge anything, it didn’t seem as if carrying Tanny had slowed the corporal at all. She was only dimly aware that the scenery had changed. One moment there were tally, grassy stalks rising around them on all sides and prickling vines scratching against her back, then the next thing she noticed were buildings rising around on all sides. They were blocky, primitive, and cast in orange shades by the setting sun.

  “Who’s that?” someone asked. Other voices muttered to one another, words too indistinct to make out.

  “One of ours,” Davies replied.

  “I’ll go tell Azrael you’re coming.”

  Davies shook her head. “Tell him to meet us at the Temple of War.”

  “Where?” Tanny asked in a whisper. She had no strength to put more breath behind the question.

  “It’s as close to a hospital as we have.”

  “Kubu…”

  “What?”

  “Looks… dog.”

  “Oh,” Davies said. “The azrin and her dog fled into the jungle the first night they got here. Ramsey sent ‘em out after dark, the idiot. If he’d waited until light, we’d have let them go.”

  “Is it…?” Tanny’s head swam. The next words eluded her. She wanted to ask more about something. But Kubu had escaped with Mriy. She had to trust that the two of them could handle the jungle at night.

  “It can wait,” Davies said. “We’ll answer all your questions, but you need to get your strength back. You’re safe here.”

  Tanny nodded, though whether the tiny twitch she managed was enough for Davies to notice, she had no way to tell. She drifted off.

  What felt like mere seconds later, her eyes opened, gummy from slumber and dehydration. Her sweat-soaked outer garments had been stripped off, and she lay on cold stone that sucked the jungle heat from her body. Twisting her head, she saw marines, all dressed like Davies and the two dead men by the Mobius. To call them perfect specimens would have been overlooking the varied faces, the scars, the rough hands from manual labor. But they were imposing, each and every one of them. They looked like the graduating class from marine boot camp, having just completed six months of physical, chemical, and psychological conditioning. And then someone had rolled them in the mud and baked for hours to a golden brown—at least those whose skin wasn’t already darker.

  “She’s awake,” someone said.

  “Let’s begin. Devraa, grant her strength,” Davies said, raising her voice, which reverberated with a cathedral echo.

  Tanny looked up and saw the night sky. Pinprick stars glimmered around a circular blot where the dark side of the planet blocked the view. Something caught strangely in her vision, until she realized that they weren’t outdoors but rather looking through a transparent ceiling.

  “Devraa, grant her strength,” a chorus parroted. Tanny felt a different sort of chill, unrelated to the temperature of the stone. Gathering herself, she realized she was up on a table, waist high to the marines surrounding her.

  “What is all this?” she muttered.

  “Ask, and you can have the power of Devraa,” Davies said quietly, meant only for Tanny. She felt the puff of breath on her ear.

  “I didn’t come here for this,” Tanny said.

  “You belong here,” Davies said. “The navals offer nothing but suffering for our kind. Devraa’s power feels better than any Recitol high. There are no side effects. No dull haze where you don’t care who lives or dies. Kwon might promise to ease the symptoms, but she can’t make the longing go away. Devraa can.” Davies lifted her voice once more. “Devraa, grant her strength.”

  “Devraa, grant her strength,” the marines repeated almost as if it were a reflex.

  “I can’t. I have to save them.” She couldn’t even convince herself. Who was she to save anyone right now? Mriy and Kubu were out who-knows-where in the jungle, their God-given senses better than anything a human could manage without scanning equipment. Carl was… she didn’t know. But just then, he was probably better in a fight than she was.

  “You need us,” Davies said. “Azrael isn’t going to like this. To him, you’re an outsider. But you’re one of us, and once you pledge to Devraa, he won’t have any recourse.”

  “He’s coming,” someone shouted from the far side of the room. “He must have sensed the obelisk activate.”

  “Decide,” Davies said. “Ask Devraa, and the pain goes away. You’ll be human… everything you ever got from Recitol plus everything it took away. A clear head, thinking your own thoughts, feeling your own emotions. Not a single one of us would go back. This isn’t a trick or a scam. Azrael doesn’t control us, but he is in charge. If he gets up here and you haven’t taken Devraa’s power, he’s going to use you as a bargaining chip.”

  Control. Emotions. Strength. Tanny had been tinkering with drugs and dosages for years and never gotten the mix quite right. The young woman she’d been the day before enlisting was gone, or so she thought. Could Devraa strip away the layered chemicals smeared over her personality? Did she want to find out?

  “What do I do?” she asked, looking up into the void in the stars. Was that where Devraa lived, down on the planet?

  “Ask, and it will be given to you,” Davies replied. An incongruous time to quote biblical texts, Tanny thought. If she hadn’t spent so much time of late with Esper, the reference might have eluded her. “Repeat: Devraa, grant me strength.”

  Even as a demonstration, the words held power. Davies glowed momentarily from wit
hin. Her chest swelled with a deep intake of breath, released with a moan of ecstasy as the glow faded. It was a moment before her eyes opened, but the faint smile told all that Tanny needed to know about Davies’ reaction.

  “Hurry, he’s on the ramp up!”

  Tanny looked Davies in the eye. It was a trick that didn’t work on Carl and probably not on Mort, but for regular humans, it was the best way to tell bullshit from honesty. Davies met her stare, and there was nothing bullshit in that look. Swallowing past her reservations, Tanny said firmly, “Devraa, grant me strength.”

  “Devraa, grant her strength,” all the marines echoed, including Davies.

  A warmth pervaded her, burning away all hint of fatigue and lethargy. Tanny gasped, her back arching, as every millimeter of her body tingled, as if a billion tiny hands massaged her all over, inside and out. She had no idea how long the sensation persisted, losing all track of time in a place where measured time was already fuzzy at best. But when the warmth faded and the tingling ceased, the sky was still dark with night.

  Sitting up, Tanny panted for breath. “Is it always like that?” With all the eyes watching her, she felt suddenly self-conscious. What sort of spectacle had she made?

  Davies helped her down from the stone block that was Devraa’s altar. “You get used to it after a while,” she replied, smiling. “But yeah. Every time.”

  “Wait… how often do I need to—?”

  “We gather every few days,” Davies said. “The effects aren’t permanent. A couple of us have gone off it experimentally, and it does get you past drug withdrawals. But everyone comes back for more.”

  Tanny nodded, mind racing. Had she just traded one addiction for another? She needed to focus, to get her mind on something concrete and immediate. “You said Kubu and Mriy are gone.”