A Gulf in Time

by Chris Kennedy

  “Absolutely,” Khushk said with a chuckle. “How else will we get to see them in action?”

  “If I might recommend taking the far side of this space, sir?” Master Chief asked. “That way our backs are to the wall, and there’s none of the damn snakes behind us?”

  “Good point,” Calvin said with a nod, and the Terrans crossed the chamber and turned to find the T’Chillen flowing into it. Although hundreds of the snakes entered the cavern before the guards stopped allowing entry, filling nearly half of it, they left a 50-foot-wide space open along the right wall as the Terrans looked back to the entrance.

  “Almost looks like a joust,” Night noted as an enormous T’Chillen slithered over to fill the opposite end. “Perhaps a firing line would be appropriate here?” he added.

  “I think that would be best,” Calvin agreed. He motioned for the platoon to spread out along the wall.

  “Who is going to be your champion?” Khushk called from about halfway along the lane.

  “I am,” Dantone said, his voice amplified over his speakers. Night and Master Chief had both started forward but stopped and looked at him as he marched forward. “When you want a job done right,” he said at a more normal tone, “you send the cyborg.”

  Several of his weapons systems powered up simultaneously.

  “Ready when you are,” Dantone called. “Although I’d move away from your champion if I were you.” Despite the warning, none of the T’Chillen moved back from the firing lane; if anything, they crowded forward to see what was happening. Others in the back pushed closer, trying to get a look, and forced the front line ever closer to the battle area. Dantone shrugged. “Your funeral.”

  A large T’Chillen next to the war leader moved into the center of the firing zone and looked at both participants. “When I say, ‘now,’ contestants will commence firing, and they will continue firing until the other contestant yields or is dead.”

  “Any chance you’re going to yield?” Dantone called.

  “None,” the T’Chillen contestant replied.

  “That makes it easy, then.” Dantone adjusted the setting on his weapon and set his feet.

  The T’Chillen moved back from the center of the lane. “All contestants ready? Now!”

  Dantone snapped the rifle up to his shoulder and fired, but the antimatter round was slower than the laser beam the T’Chillen fired in return. Set to high power, the beam burned through the armor of his shoulder and the proto-flesh underneath.

  “Bitch!” Dantone exclaimed, firing a second and third time.

  The first round detonated on the chest of the T’Chillen contestant with the force of ten grenades, blowing it apart and coating the front two rows of onlookers in gore. The force of the explosion also stunned half of the ones closest, with the blast effects exacerbated by being in the enclosed space. The second round, aimed closer to the crowd as the T’Chillen collapsed, blew off its head and killed a number of the closest bystanders with its blast. The third was farther away, but the concussion waves overlapped, ripping arms and eyeball stalks from dozens of the closest T’Chillen.

  “I guess I win,” Dantone said loudly into the screaming and keening that filled the space in the aftermath of the explosions. “Anyone else want to take a shot at me?” he asked as he tried to put the flap of skin back into place.

  “You will all die!” Khushk screamed.

  “Wait a minute!” Calvin yelled. “I told you to go outside, but you decided to do it here.”

  “Those who kill T’Chillen get killed by T’Chillen!” the war leader yelled. “Kill them!”

  A mass of the giant snakes rushed Dantone, who backed up, firing as he backpedaled. Explosions ripped across the line of T’Chillen, but the snakes continued to press forward, driven by the shouts of the war leader and the screams of the dead and dying. Laser beams lashed across the space from some of the war leader’s guards.

  “Fire!” Calvin yelled, and the antimatter rounds slammed into the flanks of the T’Chillen pressing forward toward Dantone. Dust fell from the ceiling as the repetitive concussions shredded the snakes. “Use your lasers where able!” Calvin commed. “We don’t want to drop the ceiling on us!”

  The platoon switched to lasers and began picking off the T’Chillen who looked like they still had a will to fight, although the giant aliens took two—and sometimes three—hits to drop them. Several continued to advance on Dantone, but Weinert stepped forward and sprayed them with his flamethrower. The screams of the burning T’Chillen were worse than the ones who’d had pieces blown off them in the earlier barrage.

  “Forward!” Calvin ordered as the attack turned into a rout, and the remaining T’Chillen began slithering toward the door. “Down the open firing lane. Shoot any that are still alive, and try to find the guards’ laser rifles!”

  “What if we don’t get them all?” Night asked from next to him.

  “Then I guess we take back the ones we can, and throw the administrator off the facility if we have to.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The platoon marched down the open area, led by Dantone and Weinert, both of whom continued to fire at any of the T’Chillen they saw moving. They stopped when they reached the center of the space.

  “What’s up?” Calvin asked as he approached.

  Dantone motioned to the mass of dead snakes with his rifle. “Looks like the war leader got away,” he said. “The consort took the round I fired at him. Not much left of her. I see several of the lasers in there, too, but was waiting for backup before going in to get them.”

  “Good Twin,” Master Chief said, taking charge, “take your fire team and watch the door to make sure none of the snakes come back. Everyone else, cover Dantone and Weinert as they search the bodies.”

  “And nobody shoot the little snake behind you,” Farhome said.

  Calvin turned to find Farhome in the final stages of transforming into a snake as his feet turned into a tail. Although he was nowhere close to the size of one of the adult T’Chillen, he was still a good 10-foot-long replica.

  “We hate snakes,” Farhome added. “It’s something most of us agree on.”

  Calvin noticed there was no giggle or attempt at humor from the Aesir, and Calvin smiled at him. “More than you hate being the bunny?” he asked.

  The snake’s lips turned up in a very un-T’Chillen smile. “No. Almost all of me hates the bunny more.” The smile grew wider, and a small giggle slipped from him. “I guess that’s something, anyway.” He started to glide toward the exit. “Remember,” he added, stopping for effect, “no one shoots the little snake!”

  “Don’t shoot the baby snake,” Dantone replied.

  Farhome nodded once and slithered toward the door, keeping his head down. As he reached the entrance to the cavern, he slowed to where he was only inching along, and then stopped once his head was far enough forward to see.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, you’ll probably want to hurry,” Farhome commed. “It looks like King Ugly is trying to rally his people.”

  “Let’s go,” Calvin said. “Everyone not in Good Twin’s fire team, help search the bodies. And shoot them once in the head before you move any of them to make sure they’re dead.” He headed into the pile, where the cyborgs were pulling snakes out of the way.

  “Sorry if I went a little over the top,” Dantone said as he came alongside. “I didn’t see any way they were going to let us out of here alive and with our weapons; I just sped up the process.”

  Calvin nodded. “No; I don’t think we were getting out of here any other way, either. Next time, how about a little heads-up, though, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They’re coming!” Farhome exclaimed. He frantically began pushing himself away from the doorway. As soon as he was clear, he slithered back toward the line of Terran troopers forming alongside Good Twin’s fire team, about halfway along the cavern. “Lots of smaller ones are in the lead!”

  “They’ll be trying to o
ut-maneuver us,” Master Chief said.

  “Everyone is authorized grenade-sized explosives as needed, except in the doorway,” Calvin ordered. “Dantone and Weinert, you’ve got the entryway. Try to block it as much as possible to slow them down!”

  He’d just finished saying it as the first T’Chillen came into sight, and both cyborgs fired into the mass, shredding them as they entered. As Farhome had warned, the snakes were smaller—only 15-18 feet long—and were moving more quickly than the ones they’d fought earlier. Several of them made it through the doorway before the explosives fired by the cyborgs began blocking it with the dead and dying bodies of the T’Chillen.

  Additional explosions tracked the three who made it through the doorway, and all three were quickly put down, ripped apart by multiple grenade blasts. Additional snakes tried to squeeze through the entry, and Dantone kept up a constant stream of explosives, shredding the T’Chillen as they entered, with Weinert killing any of the ones that continued trying to struggle forward after the initial barrage. As the snakes died in the doorway, additional snakes slithered onto the corpses of their comrades, and died on top of them, clogging the entry.

  “Lieutenant Commander Hobbs, Vella Gulf Actual,” Captain Sheppard’s voice came across the comms. “Looks like you stirred up the snake pit down there. There are dozens of them coming out of the hole you went into. A number of them are armed, and the shuttle had to pull back.”

  “We had to defend ourselves,” Calvin said. He looked at his force as the snakes continued trying to enter the cavern. “How many are armed? It looks like we have at least five of the rifles we came here to get, and we saw most of the rest.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve been lied to. There are dozens with laser rifles on the surface. It’s going to be hot getting you out of there.”

  “I’m going to throw that asshole off the platform when we get back,” Calvin muttered.

  “Not if I see him first,” Master Chief replied. “Ten lasers, my ass.”

  “Well, we have to get out of here if we’re going to do so. Night, you and Master Chief work up a plan to get us to the surface, and I’ll take care of what’s up there.”

  “You got it, sir,” Night said as Calvin began comming orders back up to the ship.

  * * *

  “So what’s the plan?” Calvin asked a couple of minutes later, once he’d set the airwing into motion.

  “Well, we’ve got a bit of a problem,” Night said, indicating the doorway. “We’re kind of stuck.”

  Calvin looked up and saw that nearly the entire entryway—from floor to 30-foot-high ceiling—had been blocked with dead T’Chillen. Layer upon layer of the creatures, and parts of creatures, filled the entry to within five feet of the top. Blood ran from the pile in streams and formed pools of it in the cavern.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We’re going to have to approach it and plant some explosives. The only thing I can see to do is blow a hole out. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to climb that pile only to meet one of them at the top as we exit.”

  “No, I can’t say I want to either.” Calvin surveyed the pile. The way they were stacked, there wasn’t a way to jump up onto the pile for a quick egress. “Okay, do it.”

  “Platoon!” Master Chief called. “Move forward as briefed!”

  As one, the platoon moved toward the entryway, with everyone covering the remaining space at the top. Although the T’Chillen hadn’t shown a desire to squirm through what space remained, everyone was ready if one did.

  “All right, Z-man,” Master Chief said when they’d closed to approximately 15 feet of the entryway, “you’re up.”

  “Got it,” Staff Sergeant Alka Zoromski said. “C’mon, Phil.”

  The trooper moved forward, along with one of the Kuji—Corporal ‘Phil’ Fillississolliss—staying along the right wall out of the line of fire. Zoromski reached the bottom T’Chillen in the pile—a large one—and fired his laser repeatedly into its face, and the faces of the ones around it. “Just trying to be sure,” he noted as he slung his rifle and stepped forward to arms-reach of the pile.

  Phil came to stand alongside him, keeping a wary eye on the stack.

  “C’mon, man,” Zoromski urged.

  “Just being careful,” Phil replied. “I hate snakes.” He finally turned away from the pile.

  “Who doesn’t?” Zoromski asked, taking the pack of explosives off Phil’s back. Although the aliens weren’t particularly facile with their short T-Rex-like arms, they were strong, and able to carry large packs, especially when augmented by their suits. He quickly took the roll of det cord and wrapped the bottom T’Chillen’s body with it, then packed explosives as far into the pile as he could, angling them to blast out into the hallway beyond.

  Finally, he stepped back and eyed his work critically. “I think that’ll do,” he remarked to himself.

  “How much did you use?” Calvin asked.

  Zoromski chuckled. “All of it.” He paused and added, “All of that pack, anyway.”

  Calvin looked up at the pile. “Is it going to be enough?”

  “Don’t know. I’m not trying to shift the whole pile, though, sir; I’m just trying to cut a hole in it that we can escape out of.” He smiled. “If you’ll move back, sir, we’ll see if I know what the hell I’m doing.”

  Everyone moved back a healthy distance, and Zoromski nodded. “Ready.”

  “Do it,” Calvin said.

  “Fire in the hole!” Zoromski pressed the initiator, and the charges erupted, hurling pieces T’Chillen across the room. The det cord blasted through the bottom snake, cutting through it like a knife through a roll of cookie dough. The rest of the pile shifted, but stayed mostly in place.

  “Nice,” Zoromski said with a nod. “Gunny, if you’d do the honors.”

  Dantone strode forward, grabbed the T’Chillen’s head by the eyestalks, and pulled. Both eyestalks came off in his hands. “Oops,” he remarked. He grabbed the snake by the lower jawbone and pulled, and the head section slid to the side, revealing a small tunnel that led to the passageway outside the cavern.

  “One exit tunnel, no waiting,” Zoromski said. “Who wants to go first?”

  “When you want something done right…” Master Chief said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dantone muttered. “How’d I know you were going to say that?” He looked over to Weinert. “Let’s go.”

  Dantone walked over and looked at the tunnel skeptically. “Not sure I’m going to fit,” he said.

  “I can make it bigger,” Zoromski said.

  “Nah, I don’t want to give them any more warning than we have to.” He slung his rifle over his back with the muzzle pointing down, then got down on his hands and knees and pushed forward. As he’d noted, the hole wasn’t quite big enough, and he had to bull his way forward. He reached the edge of the hole and looked out into the passageway. “Looks like they’ve withdrawn a bit,” he said.

  He started to push his way out of the tunnel and made it about halfway out before the rest of his body was yanked from the tunnel, and his body disappeared upward.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dantone’s muffled voice said.

  Weinert was down and into the tunnel in a flash, with Calvin right behind him. As Calvin rose in the passageway, he saw two things quickly—Dantone’s legs sticking out from the mouth of the T’Chillen king, who was draped across the top of the stack of dead bodies, and a large mass of T’Chillen coming down the passageway toward him. Dantone’s hands were sticking out, and had grabbed onto the giant snake’s jaw; he didn’t appear to be going anywhere, but the giant mass of T’Chillen was coming on quickly.

  Leaving Weinert to help Dantone, Calvin swung his rifle toward the approaching T’Chillen and began firing. “A little help would be good here!” he called.

  “Now what have you gotten yourself into?” Master Chief said as he stood up next to him. “Oh, fuck!” He swung his rifle up and began firing down the passageway as well.


  Within seconds, there were five Terrans firing, and the mass of snakes halted and began withdrawing again, leaving a number of dead and dying in their wake, their bodies blasted apart. Calvin spun to help Dantone and was just in time to see Weinert pry the T’Chillen’s jaws apart and Dantone drop from the king’s lifeless mouth. Even in death, it took all of Weinert’s substantial strength to get the giant snake’s mouth open. Laser holes pocketed the length of the snake, and its eyestalks had been either ripped or shot off.

  Dantone rose and looked at his body in disgust. His armor was crushed and broken, and proto-flesh hung off him in big strips. He began pulling off the dangling pieces. “Stupid fucking snakes,” he muttered in annoyance. Steam rose from pieces of both his flesh and the armor. “Seriously? They aren’t disgusting enough without being venomous, too? Gah!”

  “Are you okay?” Calvin asked.

  “Mostly, sir,” the cyborg replied. “I’ve got some servos that are damaged, and my armor and skin is trashed, but my combat systems still show 93%. Stupid thing couldn’t bite through me, and I had ahold of his jaw, so he couldn’t swallow me whole. Just be glad you didn’t have to smell his breath, though. The word ‘fetid’ doesn’t do it justice. What its saliva is doing to my gear and flesh isn’t any too pretty, either.”

  “I didn’t know you could still smell,” Calvin said.

  “I don’t smell like you do. I am, however, able to analyze the air around me. While that’s helpful for determining whether air is breathable—and I still need oxygen for my brain—I can also analyze other scents in the air. Or in giant snakes’ mouths. Based on the components of its breath, I can assure you—it wasn’t minty fresh.”

  “Will you be all right?” Master Chief asked.

  “Yeah, Master Chief; I’ll be fine. It’ll take a lot more than a snake with bad breath to put me out of action, although they did manage to piss me off.”

  “Good, because we need to get the hell out of here, and you’ve got point. Let’s move out.”

  * * * * *