by Richard Fox
Hoffman climbed a moss-covered boulder and checked his team. Barely visible, they moved through a landscape that alternated between intense sunlight and shadows cast by ancient swamp trees. Branches and vines thick as his forearm sagged into the greenish muck.
"What the hell!" Garrison jumped half out of the water, creating a cacophony of splashing noises.
Opal froze, aiming his oversized gauss rifle at the drones buzzing just over their heads. “Opal not scared of drones.”
Garrison slipped back into the slimy goo. "I knew that.”
Hoffman made eye contact with King at the rear of the column—easier now that the rain had let up—and with a quick hand signal, he initiated phase two of the plan.
"Booker, pass the word. Stage the batteries and set the timers."
Local wildlife squawked as the sun’s rays broke through clouds. Booker and Gor’al relieved Garrison and Opal, who moved back to join Max. They checked each of the improvised devices and loaded them into Opal's backpack. The batteries were heavy and had been spread throughout the team. Opal was the only one who could carry them all at once. Garrison and Max quietly argued about details of their placement.
"Duke…" Hoffman started to say.
"Way ahead of you, LT. Just give me a minute to shimmy up the slip-n-slide tree trunk. It's got at least one good branch for someone of my particular talents…if I can magic myself up there.” He spat an impressive stream of chewing tobacco away from the team. "Been holding that for a bit."
"You’re disgusting as ever," Booker said, her voice carrying across the still water.
"Stay alert; this might work quicker than we think," Hoffman said.
"I'm up," Duke huffed, slightly out of breath. "Got a pretty good view. There's a clearing ahead; wasn't so sure about it until the mist cleared. Humidity would've been a problem with the antique boomstick you forced on me during round one. I can't wait to put Ice Claw on this freak.”
Garrison and Max set the first three devices carefully, strategically placing them where they wanted the Beast to attack. Hoffman felt vulnerable as the drones made another pass. The creature was designed to destroy technology and his support team was pushing the limits from their cozy bunker. He'd seen the devastation the Beast had wrought through the city before the colonists realized how dangerous their modern tech was to themselves.
"We got the main battery packs set," Garrison said. "I—"
The breacher disappeared from view, splashing into the swamp with more noise and commotion than the place had probably seen for a thousand years.
"Max! Grab him before he sinks!” Hoffman rushed forward, creating waves in the stagnant water and risking his own plunge into a hole. He couldn’t determine if the comm specialist heard him. Garrison was less and less visible as his silhouette did some kind of arrhythmic interpretive dance under the surface.
“Max! Pull him out!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
A second later, Max and Garrison floundered away from a thick serpent.
"No drown," Opal said, hastily hanging his backpack on the tree higher than any of them could reach. He marched forward, twisting his upper body from side to side to gain momentum as he pushed through the water. The freakishly huge constrictor snake slithered past him and he ignored it until it turned and wrapped around his leg. He punched it in the head. "Snake go away."
Hoffman pulled his bayonet from its sheath and changed course, rushing toward his big friend.
The green and blue snake wrapped around the doughboy’s waist and shoulders and slid under his chin for a throat restraint.
Opal grabbed the head with one hand and the main body of the snake with the other and pulled. Blood spurted across the water as the serpent’s body thrashed away from him.
"Hate to break this to you, team," Duke said, "but those aren’t snakes like you're used to. Looks like they travel in some kind of pack. I have eyes on at least three or four inbound by the water disturbance."
"I think that's called a bed of snakes…or maybe a knot,” King said, moving forward to get in line against the attack.
Booker's voice squeaked in a way none of them had ever heard. “Yeah, I don't think you call them a pack. Permission to throw a frag grenade?"
"Duke, can you take care of this?" Hoffman asked.
Opal struggled against a larger, meaner serpent. “Snake no bite Opal!" He punched the creature in the head to make it release, then he choked it with one hand, causing its three-inch fangs to tremble and spew venom. Tendrils of the doughboy’s thick green blood splattered across him and his attacker.
A third snake lunged out of the water, causing Hoffman to stumble backward in surprise. The speed and momentum of these things were incredible. He took a shot but only hit part of the snake's body—with little effect.
"Duke!"
Duke's antique rifle boomed three times, then two times, then once more. Despite the noise and chaos, Hoffman thought he heard the man working the bolt of the old weapon.
"Sorry, I had to switch weapons."
Headless snake bodies drifted away on the water, carried by currents Hoffman hadn't realized were there.
“Hot damn, that was some precision shooting,” Garrison panted.
“Taught him everything he knows,” Booker said. “It’s all breath control.”
“Too much noise,” King said. He rallied the team, checked everyone for injuries, and inspected their equipment. "Let's move. This train’s already ten minutes late."
"Moving to plan B for deployment of the bait batteries,” Garrison said.
"What's plan B?" King asked as Hoffman and Booker looked on with interest. Max had a confused look on his face despite his alleged involvement with this scheme.
"Come on, Max. You remember plan B," Garrison said, running to a rock and jamming one of the improvised devices into a crevice. "Opal, hit me."
The doughboy removed one of the batteries, heavy enough to sprain the wrist of an unwary handler, and spiraled it like a football to Garrison, who caught it against his chest and grunted.
"Nice, Opie. You're getting better." Garrison chucked the device into the branches, where it wedged against something unseen.
"Right! Plan B." Max grabbed a battery pack and lobbed it into a different tree. He glanced at Hoffman. "Plan B's kind of a standard template. I forgot.”
“Outstanding. Let's keep moving. We can deploy as we go. This zone’s pretty hot. Hopefully, we’ll survive the local wildlife long enough to take out the real threat. I'm shutting down my IR link to the drones for now," Hoffman said.
"There’s what passes for dry ground in this place about three hundred meters ahead on a bearing of two hundred eighty degrees," Duke said. "I'm coming down. Should reach King’s position momentarily."
Stopping the team to give his sniper a chance to catch up, Hoffman looked at his watch. The windup device had a short arm and a long arm that turned clockwise and to one side was a compass dial. “This feels like doing algebra on an abacus.”
Booker checked her wrist. "I'm with you. The sooner we take this thing out, the sooner the universe will be aligned in the proper order. Navigation HUDs, power-enhanced armor, and climate control for everyone."
Three flares went up from the tree line. The team stopped and King took tactical command, calling out sectors of fire to the Marines.
Hoffman activated the IR with the drones and radioed the event. "Command, this is Hammer Six. We have three flares four hundred meters ahead of our coordinates on a heading of two hundred sixty-five degrees."
“Acknowledged, Hammer Six."
"Duke, do you have a shot?"
"I might have, if I’d stayed in the tree. There's another perch I can get to, but it'll take me a minute," the sniper said, already heading across a dubious sandbar to an ancient tree that looked like it was sinking at its roots.
"Opal, help him up."
The doughboy charged across the water, glancing around for snakes and other swamp things. "Opal help!
”
"Hold on, let me set down the excess gear," Duke said as he loosened one of his packs.
Opal grabbed him and threw him up, gear and all. The sniper twisted like he was trying to do a cartwheel in midair and landed more or less on one leg and shoulder, gripping the thick branch arms. “I’m…up. Give me a second to acquire the target."
Drones fell out of the sky and crashed through the jungle canopy. Hoffman ripped the IR link from his ear and smashed it with the butt of his rifle.
"This is it, team, the big dance. Prepare to charge your gauss weapons. I think you got that little bugger, LT.” King cringed as snakes, frogs, birds, and other less Earth-like analogs fled over the Strike Marine’s position.
“You can never be too sure with these gizmos,” Hoffman said.
Each member of the team put away antique weapons and uncased gauss rifles. Hoffman arranged his charge packs for quick reloading, shifting them to the front of his tactical harness, then held one in his hand, ready to slam it into action. Something roared as it approached.
Hoffman shifted his position to get a better look.
“It’s big,” King said. “I’d say like a lizard-cat out of a mad scientist’s laboratory.”
“You’re not wrong. How long before the batteries activate and really piss it off?” Hoffman checked his watch and tried to ignore the additional slime that had worked its way into his boot. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to need sick call when this was over.
“A few minutes, depending on the Beast. We’ve seen it circle and harass our position—which isn’t what we want.” The gunnery sergeant stalked toward a downed tree and leaned against it to aim his rifle toward the shape he’d seen a moment before. One by one, the Marines tweaked their positions, looking for the best angle to fire on the expected attack.
Hoffman noted Duke’s location—in the only tree large enough to support him. “Give me an update, Duke.”
“One moment.” The sniper’s words were stretched out over several seconds, a sure sign he was searching for something through his optics.
The first battery snapped on—Hoffman heard the distinctive pop of power surging through a cold cell. Two more went live on opposite sides of the bog.
“It’s about to get real,” King whispered into the sudden silence.
Garrison crouched near the expected point of contact. “Now it’s creepy. You with me, Opie?”
“Get ready,” Duke said, his words stretching out like an instructor on the range. “Shooters on the line, get your charge packs for reloading because you’re about to need them. Don’t waste time on low-power shots.”
Hoffman lifted the heavy magazine to the bottom of his weapon, lining it up with the insertion slot. The slight current of the swamp water surged in the opposite direction. It was a subtle, almost noiseless event, but it sent chills up his spine.
“Duke, give me an update,” Hoffman said.
“It’s a sneaky rascal, but I think we got its attention,” Duke said as the rest of the batteries hummed to life.
The Beast exploded through the perimeter. Water fountained into the air as a sickly, mostly rotten tree exploded. The densely muscled creature charged forward, chomping with jaws spread wide as a small ground car. It slashed wicked claws through the air, shredding another swamp tree, the hanging vines spiraling into the air from the force of the impact. The creature surged into and out of the water like a killer whale on the hunt.
Two of the bait batteries disappeared in the furious attack. The Beast hesitated, turning to face a half-dozen new power flares.
Hoffman rammed the battery into his gauss rifle and activated the weapon. He felt a thrum of electricity travel through the magnetic coils and a charge indicator near the rear sight turned on. The gauge filled—very, very slowly.
In the distance, the Beast froze. Its triangular head lifted up and twisted to look straight at Hoffman through the jungle.
“Ah crap,” Garrison said, slapping the side of his gauss rifle, encouraging it to charge faster.
“Suppressing fire!” King shouted as he, Booker, and Max opened up with their gauss weapons on low power, sending up a quick hail of magnetically accelerated bolts.
The difference between gauss fire and regular bullets was stunning. He felt like a kid who had never seen fireworks. Trees exploded. Shredded wood and vegetation blasted in all directions. Rounds hit the water and sent up plumes of steam.
The Beast turned away from its stationary quarry and rushed Hoffman’s team, its bottom row of eyes flashing wide while the others narrowed and scanned side to side. A hunk of bark dropped from its wide mouth. It drove forward through the swamp with explosive acceleration that Hoffman couldn’t believe.
“Reloading!” Garrison shouted. “Just as fast…as possible.” His voice went up two octaves.
“Firing! You’re out already?” Booker said as an afterthought, her attention clearly on the task at hand. “OK, now I’m reloading.”
“I cannot believe it is still coming,” Steuben growled between shots.
Duke’s voice, normally calmer during a fight than it was in everyday conversation, blasted through the IR comms—which they were using now that they had provoked the Beast and didn’t need to worry about drawing its attention. “Shift fire! Shift fire! It’s right on top of Opal.”
Hoffman saw the doughboy swing his huge hammer and shouted, echoing his sniper, “Shift fire! Friendly in the kill zone!” He moved his point-of-aim a few meters ahead of Opal’s attacker, anticipating its next move.
“Break you!” Opal swung with both hands, striking it firmly on the bridge of its nasal plate. The wedge-shaped head didn’t really have a nose, but rather wide openings that reminded Hoffman of a supercharger’s air intake port, the only difference being the thick organic film that lined the creature’s eyes, nose, and mouth.
“No!” Opal roared as it smashed him sideways, slashing with its teeth and claws. Opal threw up a hammer to block the blow as he fell beneath the water and was pressed deeper by the second and third sets of legs.
“Did you see that? It just ran over Opie. Opie! Nobody knocks down a doughboy like that,” Garrison shouted, ripping off rounds faster and faster. “Give me back my doughboy, you freak!”
Hoffman still couldn’t see the Beast in its entirety and feared it would just keep coming and coming. It was bigger than he thought and a hell of a lot faster. He knew it had been struck several times with gauss rounds and thought he’d seen it flinch.
Hoffman checked his charge indicator: still several seconds away from a high-powered shot.
Opal crawled out of the swamp, heading straight for his hammer, and Duke fired Ice Claw. The rail rifle split the air with a sonic boom as a hypervelocity round sliced through the air, leaving a trail of burning oxygen in its wake.
The concussion from the rail shot shoved Hoffman into a tree and his ears rang.
Matte-black armor plates sprang into the air as the round drilled through the Beast’s shoulder, slamming the creature into the swamp like a giant boot had stepped on it. It lay still as water rushed over it. Alien flesh and slime fountained near the thing’s neck as the round zipped through and out the other side.
“Bang out!” Garrison shouted, heaving a bomb with all his strength. The team dove to the ground, scrambling for cover. A second later, an explosion shook the jungle.
Hoffman stumbled to his feet and aimed his fully charged gauss rifle at a black mass in the water. He pulled the trigger and, for a second, nothing happened until searing heat spread through his hands and he threw the weapon aside. The battery pack glowed red-hot and popped, flipping the rifle into a puddle. The rest of the Marines had dropped their rifles as well.
“Bad,” Gor’al said, drawing his old-style assault rifle off his back. “This is very bad.”
In the swamp, the black mass of the Beast slunk away from the Marines.
“Orbital strike?” King asked. “We hurt it, at least.”
“Time to f
inish the job.” Hoffman removed a second IR transmitter from his belt and plugged a battery into it.
“We need to keep line of sight on the Beast,” Hoffman said. “Orbital strikes have room for error, but I don’t trust the Navy.”
King pointed off to the left. “If we can get across this field of mush, there’s hardcover over there. I see at least three boulders that must be sitting on solid ground. Beast’s swimming around it all.”
Hoffman held his position until his team was set, then sprinted toward them. “Moving!” Sliding behind a swamp boulder, he said, “Duke, time for the big gun.”
Duke fired twice in rapid succession, slamming rounds into its shoulder, stopping it dead in its tracks. “When you want something done right…”
Hoffman stared at the floundering monster. “What are you waiting for? Do it again.”
Duke fired three rounds, each a second apart and well-placed into the armored shoulder girdle of the thing. The kinetic force staggered it.
“Keep running!” Garrison said. “Haven’t I taught you people anything?”
King turned and fled. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Garrison on this one. Team, let’s get outta here. Fight another day.”
Hoffman looked down at the assault rifle he knew was barely effective against the Beast. But if they had the creature hurt and near death, then they might still have a chance to finish it off.
He put the IR transmitter into his ear. “Talk to me, Duke.”
“Had to hot swap my battery,” Duke said. “Ready to fire in forty-five seconds.”
“You get eyes on the target, you call in an orbital strike to finish it off,” Hoffman said.
“Kind of pushing ‘danger close’ to a whole new level, LT.”
“Eyes open.” Hoffman closed the channel and linked up with the rest of the team in the middle of several boulders. “Where is it?”
“Negative contact.” Steuben lifted his head slightly. “I still can’t smell it.”
“No eyes on,” Garrison said, peeking around a boulder. No one else could see the Beast either.
Hoffman looked back to Duke’s tree, and an empty pit formed in his stomach.
