Lone Marine

by Nikolas Bunko

  Tully heard the pitter-patter of his feet as he ran towards the Scout ship. He had entered a dark forest of icy spikes and spires and had to move slower. The last thing he needed this far into the game was a compound fracture after slipping, or worse, a sub-zero puncture wound from falling through the ice.

  He checked his timer. He had made up more than enough time with his frantic trek through the crystalline canyons. He still had ten minutes to spare. This gave him plenty of time to move through the spikes and spires at a slower pace, provided he kept moving. The Scout ship was just above the next hill. Tully had to activate the GPS on his HUD to see the Scout ship’s position. He didn’t want to walk off in the wrong direction accidentally. That would cost him precious time he didn’t have.

  The crystalline figures within the moon were truly beautiful. He snapped a few photos with a blink of an eye using his on-board camera. Doing so allowed him to admire the long, twisted ice rods which rose all the way to the sky, without losing too much time. He must have been walking in the very spot where the ship sustained damage, thanks to that douchebag Cole sabotaging the collision detection system.

  He looked up to see the icy structures now rising into the dark sky like skinny skyscrapers. Tully snapped a picture of a particularly pointed ice sculpture before continuing on his way. When the picture returned to his HUD, Tully froze – and not from the cold. The picture didn’t turn out quite as Tully was expecting. There was a blur, but Tully had been standing still when he took it. It was the tell-tale sign of something that couldn’t possibly be.

  Movement.

  Tully kept walking, but he listened closely to every step he took. Sure enough, with every third or fourth step came another, additional footstep. Someone was following him. But who could it be? He had left Cole trapped in that collapsing canyon. Tully really hoped another one of his supposedly dead teammates was not about to be resurrected as a crazed alien zealot. That would have made Rodriguez or Laskey really insufferable.

  He kept walking. He knew he was being followed. The worst he could do would be to acknowledge it. The footsteps were growing in both sound and frequency. Whoever or whatever was out there, was definitely growing closer and faster. Tully cursed himself. Why did he shatter that battle rifle instead of taking it with him? It probably would have slowed him down, but it would also have proved pretty handy in this situation.

  Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. Tully kept walking. While he wanted to check the source of the footsteps, he knew the best way to counter an ambush was ultimately to walk right through it.

  Tully resumed his normal pace and the footsteps also returned to normal pace. He had to fight against every fiber of being not to call out to whoever was tracking him and confront them, which would give away any advantage he had on them.

  So he kept walking. He thought about whistling. It would get his mind off what was happening, but it would also distract him. He also thought about breaking into a dead run. He could see the beginning of the slope that would hopefully lead back to the Scout ship.

  As with all his options, however, the disadvantages easily outweighed the advantages. If he ran, he might be able to outrun his stalker, but he wouldn’t be able to hear them coming. He would also be unable to see any looming traps.

  Traps.

  Fourteen

  Just then his boot’s motion sensor indicated unstable terrain ahead. Tully knew who was following him, against all odds. He also knew how to stop them.

  He took another step. The ground gave out beneath him. Without another word, Lance Tully descended into the shadows, until the darkness covered him completely.

  A long figure stood over the pit, clad in Marine armor. The figure stared down at the hole. The pit went all the way down to a series of spike-filled caverns seventy feet below the moon’s surface. The figure seemed to understand he wouldn’t see any proof of death, so he gave a characteristic shrug and started on his way.

  Tully hadn’t fallen far. In fact, he had barely fallen at all. As he started to fall, he merely guided himself to a ledge five feet below the surface, just out of the figure’s line of sight. From there, he could observe the figure. As soon as the figure turned around and began walking away, Tully moved off the ledge and climbed out of the pit. He saw the figure walking away from the pit. He thought about leaving the figure to go on his way, but deep down, Tully knew he couldn’t afford to.

  This man had caused him so much harm. If he let him go now, it would only be a matter of time before he struck again. Besides, he had unfinished business with the man, even if he secretly wished he could just turn and walk away.

  Now, however, Tully was the hunter and the other man was the prey. The man walked away with his trademark swagger. Tully matched his footsteps perfectly. He knew how to adjust his boot sensors to read how many decibels his approach was giving. It was minimal at best. But Tully knew he could never ambush this man any more than this man could ambush him.

  That’s why it was past time to end this.

  “You’re becoming predictable, Cole,” Tully said. Cole pivoted as if he’d just seen an old college buddy at a restaurant.

  “So are you, Tully,” he smiled. “Or at least, your survival is starting to become predictable.”

  “How’d you get out of the cave?” Tully asked.

  “She taught me all the ways to get inside her . . . and all the ways to get out of her,” Cole said with a sickening grin.

  “That sounds disgusting,” Tully said. Cole ignored his remark and continued.

  “As you know, I’m now a widower,” Cole said. “Having recently buried the love of my life.”

  Tully smiled, “Technically, I’m the one who buried her.”

  Cole’s mood immediately darkened. “Don’t toy with me, Lance. Not now.”

  “Aren’t you toying with me?” he asked Cole. “Isn’t this what this little trap was?”

  “This?” Cole looked at the open pit. “This was just me getting your attention.”

  “A call would have been nicer,” Tully replied. “Besides, there’s nothing more to say.”

  “I disagree,” Cole said. “Really, I just wanted you to know one small thing.”

  “That you’re crazy?” Tully snarked back. “Thanks, pal, but I knew that already.”

  “That it’s not personal,” Cole said, gesturing to the wide expanse of the moon before them. “We’re just specks in the cosmos. I know I said some things back there, but that was the emotion. I’ve had time to grow as a person. “

  “Cole, it’s been, what? Twenty minutes since we last tried to kill one another?” Tully calculated.

  “Time works differently for her. She doesn’t see time in that boring straight light, one event after the other, nor does it play out like a simple clock,” Cole looked up to the sky. “The Sovereign sees time as . . . so much more.”

  “Well, that’s great, Cole. I’m really glad you’ve managed to have and solve an existential crisis in like a half-hour. Go sell a book now,” Tully suggested. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  “I know,” Cole said darkly. “And unfortunately, I just can’t let you go. I have to kill you. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” Tully asked, puzzled. “You said it’s not personal.”

  “It’s not. But the Sovereign can’t have you telling the FDF what you’ve seen here today,” Cole said. “That’s why you have to die. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot. But you can find solace now that it’s almost over.”

  Great. Just freaking fantastic. I can’t believe I have to throw down with this lunatic again.

  Tully steadied himself for the incoming blow. He tried to loosen up, as much as it was possible, to engage with Cole. But the zealot just stood there and smiled.

  “There’s no reason for that. All you need to do is just stand by and let it pass you over,” Cole said. “It’s that simple.”

  “Let what pass me over?” Tully asked, confused but already sure he wasn’t going to like the answer
.

  “History,” Cole said, and it was then that Tully realized Cole was holding something.

  A detonator.

  Fifteen

  He saw a flash of light in the distance followed by an eruption of thunder. Soon, a bright white river was surging towards him – Cole had brought down the snow drift ahead of him into a fearsome avalanche that would engulf him very soon. He turned to see Cole darting away, likely going back the same way he came.

  Tully glimpsed through the pictures he had taken of the various crystalline structures during his trek. He found a particularly spiky one that might just work – if he didn’t impale himself during this next trick. He approached the icy tree-like structure and placed a hesitant foot on one of the “branches”. It surprisingly held his weight. So he climbed to another. And then another. All while the surge of white snow crashed ever closer.

  One wrong step and this tree might crack, and he would fall backwards into the icy cascade. Of course, one wrong step could also send him falling forward, into the icy spikes that made up the jagged, lightning shaped structure. He kept climbing as the avalanche drifted ever closer. When he made it to the top, all he could do was hold his breath as it all surged forward.

  When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find he was still alive. He looked down to see the mass of white ice and snow moving below him in a slow river that stabilized within a few seconds. He cut one of the branches and watched the icy cylinder fall to the ground below. The ice and snow were solid enough to walk on, since the cylinder hadn’t sunk into the snow. With that in mind, Tully let go of his tree and leapt down to the snow below.

  Relieved as he was that a path was laid out before him, Tully checked his watch. He still had seven minutes. So Tully did the only thing he could do.

  He ran.

  He was under no illusion that Cole might have perished in the ensuing avalanche. Cole had caused the avalanche, and besides, he didn’t strike Tully as the kamikaze type. Cole cared little for honor, desiring only to please his “lover”, whatever was left of her now. He continued to run up the drift.

  Five minutes later, he could see the Scout ship. He rushed forward and opened the door to enter the Scout ship. He had never been so glad to see the yellow fluorescent lights or breathe the stale ship-board air.

  “Tact,” he announced. “I’m home.”

  “Excellent,” Tact greeted. “You have approximately five point seven minutes to make the repairs necessary to fix the Scout ship.”

  “Better get started then,” Tully said. He had no time to catch his breath. He had an appointment to keep with the Astraeus. He started making repairs in the immediate vicinity. Most were routine in nature and just involved making sure Tact could access the systems.

  “How close are we to taking off?” Tully asked.

  “We are ninety percent finished,” Tact replied. “But we still require work in the cargo hold.”

  “I’m heading down there right now. Start on the engines. It shouldn’t take me very long,” Tully announced.

  A warm surge of relief surged through Tully’s body, but he couldn’t let it dampen the adrenaline. Anything less than one hundred percent could kill them, and even then, their chances of making it back to the Astraeus were still less than sixty percent at this point.

  Our chances. Anything less than one hundred percent could kill them.

  He was counting Tact in that calculation as the only surviving member of his team. He wondered how invested Tact felt in its own survival. The A.I. could take a lot more punishment than Tully could, but even A.I. wasn’t immortal. The point was, maybe Cole wasn’t so crazy for investing so much into a relationship with a spaceship, considering how close Tully had come to doing similarly.

  Scratch that. He was definitely crazy.

  Sixteen

  Most of the repairs at this point involved giving Tact the permission necessary to override the piloting system, since Tully would need all the help he could get flying out of here. He had also repaired the collision detection system that Cole had sabotaged, meaning the icy spikes shouldn’t give them the same trouble they had when landing on this barren moon.

  Tully hopped down to his knees and began double-checking the wiring panels throughout the ship. He used a soldering laser to fix any mistakes he discovered. If just one of these boards was bad, it could blow a short, costing the Scout ship time and possibly altitude. The end result was the same: death quick or death slow.

  “Tact, system check update,” Tully inquired.

  “Ninety five percent complete,” the artificial intelligence chimed.

  “Excellent,” Tully said. “How much time remaining?”

  “Three minutes,” Tact said.

  “Aces,” Tully said.

  Before this disaster, Tully didn’t consider three minutes long enough to achieve much of anything, but this mission had changed so much of his perspective. It also changed his opinion on first encounters and Cole Becker’s mental state.

  Tact had only two more jobs to accomplish, but they were the two he dreaded the most. He had to go down to the hold, where he would move the corpses of his team from one side of the cargo hold to the other, in order to affect repairs. He also had to search for whatever alien tech Cole had stowed on the ship.

  Cole.

  Tully had privately hoped for Cole’s demise in the avalanche, and that bringing the snow drift down upon both their heads was his last mad attempt at sabotage. But deep down, Tully knew he wasn’t that lucky. Still, he couldn’t know anything about the mad zealot. Getting off this rock was his number one priority.

  He opened the hatch to the hold and climbed down into the Scout ship’s cramped second level. He immediately saw the bags containing the bodies of his friends. Drummer. Laskey. Rodriguez. Conway. And the pilot. He set about moving the bags to the other side of the ship without further hesitation. As he did so, he felt a pit open up within his stomach. He’d spent the better part of the last year with these guys: twenty-four seven. They were his friends.

  And now, just like anyone else who ever mattered in his life, they were gone.

  He moved Drummer and Conway first, out of respect for the two ranking members of the team. He then hefted Rodriguez and Laskey to the back of the hold, leaving the center of the hold clear so he could focus on his repairs. He opened a hatch at the side of the ship and began repairing the wires damaged in the crash. The good news was that the cargo hold has sustained the least damage in the impact. The bad news was that everything in here was difficult to get to, making it a chore to access. However, he finished the repairs without too much ado.

  “Tact, I think I’m done here,” he said. “What’s our status?”

  “One hundred percent,” the artificial intelligence responded in its typically flat voice, devoid of emotion.

  “Awesome. Start the engines. It’s time to get off this rock,” Tully said.

  “Understood. Should I begin lift-off proceedings?” Tact inquired.

  “Not right now. How much time until we lose the Astraeus?” Tully asked.

  “Approximately twenty minutes,” Tact said.

  “Perfect. It’s time for a bonus round,” Tully said.

  “Private Tully, no additional items of value in the hold,” Tact said.

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Tully replied before he closed the channel.

  Right. So, if I was a psychotic Marine with a thing for ships, where would I hide an alien artifact?

  Tully had already searched most of the hold and all of the Scout ship’s first level. It was of course possible that he put it on the outside of the ship somehow, but Tully really didn’t want to exit the Scout ship if he didn’t absolutely have to. He wanted no more surprises, especially considering the relative safety of the Scout ship.

  He saw Cole’s body bag at the end of the hold. He hadn’t moved it, primarily because it was empty, and also because he knew Cole’s fake death didn’t deserve the same honor as his teammates.
Suddenly, something occurred to him.

  It is empty . . . right?

  Tully moved forward and unzipped the bag. It had a weight to it which wasn’t evenly distributed enough to be a body. In its stead, he saw a large square, comprised of the same dark lightweight material that made up the alien spacecraft. Tully could also see glowing green runes within the cube.

  Bingo. We have a winner.

  The only remaining question was . . . what should he do about it? On one hand, Tully knew the upper brass would want to study whatever this was. It also presented evidence of the alien encounter beyond the photos he snapped with his helmet. On the other hand, this thing had allowed Cole to sabotage the mission and fake his own death. Who knows what other surprises it could be hiding?

  Tully decided to leave it on Tartarus. Too many variables presented with this piece of alien junk. It could explode the moment the Scout ship exited the atmosphere. It could jam his systems. It could block communications with the Astraeus. At the end of the day, the alien equipment just wasn’t worth the risk.

  “Tact, open the hold,” he directed.

  “Understood,” the computer said. “Be advised we have reached optimal flight weight. We have eighteen minutes before we lose the Astraeus.”

  “I just have to drop off one item,” he said as the hold opened, revealing a ramp that led down to the icy moon’s surface. He would slide the thing off the ramp and then he’d be off this planet. He would have to convince the upper brass with his words, his photograph and any footage acquired from his armor or the Scout ship itself.

  He started to lug the body bag containing the alien artifact towards the slope. It was heavier than he anticipated. That alone convinced him this was the right call.