Alien Infestation

by Peter Fugazzotto

  A few minutes later they heard the sounds of a bug ahead, chittering, slurping, bones cracking.

  Snake raised a fist. His advance team gathered by him. The other team hung back. "First bug," he said.

  "Bug's going to pay," said Crunch. "Nobody comes in and takes one of my own."

  "I get first shot," said Fifi. "You stay out of my line of fire."

  "And you can come running to my arms when those little bullets of yours bounce off the bug armor."

  "Ain't got no armor over its eyes."

  Snake interrupted. "Let's do this. Extreme prejudice. No hesitating. Let's stomp on these bugs one by one."

  Snake tightened his grip on rifle and hurried along the wall, staying close and low. He heard nothing behind him. Either the others had stayed where they were or they were as silent as assassins. He would have to trust that it was the latter.

  The crunching grew louder and was accompanied by squelching and slurping.

  "Man, it stinks," hissed Crunch.

  "Quiet, man."

  Snake reached the corner from which behind the pale light spilled. It did stink. From that foul ochre fluid that came out of the bugs. A shadow formed on the wall. Long. Moving in a repetitive way. Slurping.

  Snake's heart pounded so hard that his whole body trembled. He wanted to lick his lips but his mouth was dry. Even his breath was ragged as if he could fully inhale but could only bring a small bit of air into his lungs.

  He glanced behind him. He saw himself reflected in the face shield of Engstrom. He looked like a killer. Now he just had to be one.

  One. Two. Three.

  He darted out around the corner and immediately began firing. Ceramic bullets burst from his rifle, exploding against the wall, and shattering on the carapace of the bug.

  Snake cursed.

  The thing was bigger than he imagined. Bent over in the alcove, the half-fleshed skull of a man in its claws, the bug's proboscis slurping out the brains.

  Snake targeted the face and the bullets painted the wall ochre.

  But even that did not drop the bug. Instead it rose to its full towering height and charged.

  Snake watched ceramic bullets exploding in dust off the carapace as the beast closed the distance. Snake stumbled backwards, finger heavy on the trigger, the rifle bucking in his arms.

  The bug was so close that it could have reached out and embraced him. That's when Engstrom leapt forward and smashed the bug's head with the butt of her rifle. The blow stunned the bug and knocked it off its feet.

  But almost immediately it had sprung back onto its feet, spitting streams of saliva, clacking and hissing, its head wagging back and forth.

  That was the only opportunity Crunch needed. He lunged forward and whipped his axe off his shoulder. The blade caught the bug in the neck, and the head, still clacking and hissing, rolled off to a corner of the room.

  Crunch laughed. "Told you, little ladies, I'd need to step in and finish business. Ain't no business like axe business."

  Snake stepped back expecting the bug to fall. But it did not. The body still stood and it took several more steps forward, pincers clacking, arms lashing out so wildly that Snake and the others had to stumble backwards for fear of being hit.

  Even the head, separated from the body, lived on. It spit and whirred, its mandibles opening and closing, long strings of blood and brains stretching between.

  Crunch was moving so fast backwards that he tripped and fell to his backside He scrambled like a crab, arms and legs milling, trying to put distance between himself and the still raging creature.

  Fifi stepped between him and the bug, raised a single eyebrow in annoyance, and toggled on the flamethrower on her gun. The pilot light crackled, and then with a sudden whoosh a torrent of flames flew out of her gun. The headless bug immediately caught fire. It tottered several steps, left and right, and then in a shrinking circle, before it collapsed to the ground, a charred mess.

  "Holy cow!" exclaimed Snake.

  "Great balls of fire," said Fifi. She looked at Crunch who was slipping in ochre bug blood and could not get himself back to standing. "Ain't no business like burning in hell business. Little lady."

  Crunch chuckled. "I got no problem with a little fire, girl. No problem at all."

  Engstrom dug the toe of her boot into the blackened carapace. It crackled and broke into uneven pieces. "Not getting up anymore, but, damn, that thing was not easy to kill. It was still fighting after its head got chopped off. I don't think this is going to be a walk in the park."

  "Yeah, it will be a fight," said Snake. "Might be hard to kill, but we can still kill them, and that's the only chance I want. We'll shoot them, hack them, and light them up like on the Fourth of July. Doesn't matter. We'll do what we have to. We're bug hunting."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ENGSTROM WATCHED AS the prisoners kicked the charred husk of the bug. She was afraid they were going to make too much noise and attract more bugs. But she did not care. They had killed one. They had killed it easily really. They would be able to kill more.

  The bug hunt was about to begin.

  Snake sidled up alongside Engstrom. "You gotta admit we handled that with class. You all should he hiring us out as exterminators."

  "You got lucky, soldier." She could not help notice the wide smile on his face.

  "Luck?" He winked at her. "Nah, I knew my crew was ready to back me up at a moment's notice."

  "Next time be more careful."

  "We need more flamethrowers. Burn the vermin. We get more flamethrowers this is going to be a walk in the park."

  "We're not out of here yet. Let's finish the celebrating and get back to business. We get back to the ladder. Clear it. Get to the upper level and then get the hell out of here. We get Roy to open the door and then back to the Poros. Bring in more fire. Bring in more guns."

  "And maybe an axe or two. Cause what's the fun of killing a few bugs if the heads aren't flying around the room?"

  The crew kicked the carcass a few more times and moaned about not having a camera so they could pose with their kill.

  "I'm taking the head," said Crunch. "Souvenir. The boys back home not going believe the wonders of what we did tonight. Bona fide bug killing heroes."

  Hatt spit on the ground. "You're a stupid fool."

  Crunch dropped the head on the ground and scowled, moving menacingly towards the little man who retreated back towards the shadows of the hall.

  Hatt spit words out of his mouth. "You think this is all fun and games, sinner. You think you won something big here. You killed one demon. That's it. You think that's all there is. You don't think there isn't another one hiding around the next corner. Where's the rest of Engstrom's team? They were armed to the teeth. The demons are hiding. They're waiting for us. The hunters turning into the hunted. If you think all of us are going to make it out of here alive, you are truly a fat fool."

  "Keep talking, little man. Keep talking."

  Hatt disappeared into the shadows. "I'll find my own way. You all are just going to get yourselves killed with your foolishness. Can't you hear them? They're coming. Running through the walls. The end is near, sinners. The end is near."

  Suddenly Hatt vanished completely in the darkness. Engstrom waited, expecting the man to re-emerge even if only at the edge of their sight. Engstrom spoke into the shadows. "Come on back out, Hatt. You don't play the fool. What's crazy is wandering these halls alone. No man alone is a match for these fiends. You saw what they did to Big T. There's strength in numbers. The last fight showed that. Come on back out."

  Engstrom heard the steady drip of water on the floor. Somewhere in the distance she heard the faint sound of metal reverberating as if something banged against sheet metal.

  "Enough of this," said Snake. He flicked on his gun light. The beam extended down the hall. It was empty, except for the corpses floating behind the plasteen lids. Hatt was nowhere to be seen.

  "No loss," grunted Crunch. "Did he even step for
ward to fight? Dead weight. If not now, soon enough."

  "Let's get back to the ladder," said Snake. "We know we can kill them now. We know what it takes. We stick together, lure them out, and then fry these bugs."

  Engstrom gave a curt nod to the others, and then started off down the hall, her light joined those of the others. She could hear them tight behind him, their steps gradually falling into her rhythm as if they had trained to move as one, as if they had known each other for years. She felt their warmth of their breaths on her neck. A tight wedge, a killing machine, charging down the hall.

  She kept expecting to see Hatt just ahead of her in the beam of light, thought that the man would come to his senses and reel himself back into the safety of the group. Crunch would make him eat his words, and maybe even cuff him when he wasn't looking, but Engstrom knew that price was an easier one to pay that traveling the dark path alone.

  When they were approaching the ladder, Engstrom raised a fist. The group stopped behind her. She heard them panting now. She could smell their sweat, the sudden fear. The lights on their rifles once so steady, now trembled and shook as they checked dark corners and sudden shadows.

  But they were alone at the juncture.

  She signaled Snake alongside her. "You know what we need to do. Up the ladder. But I don't know how. Only room enough for one person up there. Not sure if there is enough room for someone to be inside the ladder cage and still fire the flame gun."

  "What else you proposing, Sarge?"

  "I think we need to lure them down here."

  "And how exactly do we do that?"

  "I'll go up. By myself. Bring them back down."

  "You're going to get yourself killed."

  "I'm not going to let you all die down here. Not while I can do something."

  Snake shook his head. "Crazy. Sacrificing yourself for others. What are you going to get out of that?"

  "We leave no one behind."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ADMIRAL KRONOS WANTED to put a fist through Captain Sanchez's mouth. In fact, he wanted to put a fist through the mouth or a boot up the behind of pretty much all the assembled captains sitting around the table in his conference room aboard the Federation destroyer Poros.

  "I am not going to risk another team going in there to seal the door," Kronos said. He shuddered at the memory of what happened to Marine Team 1. Sergeant Smith had been the one Kronos was grooming and now this.

  "I think Marine Team 2 could get the job done. They are our number two team for a reason," repeated Sanchez. "They won't be going in blindly. They will know what to expect. We can be prepared."

  Kronos looked at Sanchez in her ill-fitting uniform, the buttons straining beneath the mountainous flesh beneath. He needed to start instituting a fitness standard for his captains. Yes, he knew that he had put her in her position for her ability to lead troops but there had to be certain minimum standards met, and right now she was failing in terms of both fitness and clarity of thought.

  "And when they fail?" asked Kronos. "Do we send in teams 3, 4 and 5, Sanchez? Just wash, rinse, and repeat? Is that the strategy I am hearing from the brilliant minds I've gathered here?" He slammed a fist so hard on the table that Captain Toy's glass of water fell over. "Should I just send my men and women to death?"

  "Jettison the Acheron," said Captain Kray. He spun a stylus in his hand, an annoying habit he had not gotten rid on the six months since he had accepted his commission with the Poros, even after six months of Kronos scowling at his hand and the damned twirling stylus.

  Kronos though Kray was an arrogant prick. Slicked hair, perpetual sneer. But he had the best head on his shoulders at the moment. While the others just wanted to mimic Kronos, bunch of stupid crows, Kray was thinking differently.

  "And leave all the prisoners on board to those things?" asked Sanchez.

  "Who's left?" asked Kronos. "It's a killing zone."

  Kronos swept his hand to the wall monitor where a collection of live video feeds battled the increasing static. The Acheron. He winced at the shattered pods, the corpses on the floor, the bodies of Engstrom's and Smith's teams slowly being consumed. His gaze wandered to a video feed of the tube connecting the Acheron and the Poros, the last connection between the vessels. The walls were painted red with the blood of Marine Team 1. Smith was a beast. He was a jerk and cold-blooded killer. The best among the sergeants. The one Kronos held back as his secret ace in the hole. Kronos had been unable to watch the live feed. There had been no sound to the feed, but he could swear that he could hear the screams of the poor man as he was dragged off by the bug fiends.

  "You know who's left in the prison barge," said Toy. "Engstrom and a handful of others. Would we abandon them?"

  "Do you really think that they are going to survive?"

  "Are you really going to leave one of our own behind?"

  Kronos tried but he could not contain the trembling that overcame his lower lip. He felt a sudden rush of heat across his face, and his collar, even though he wore it loosely, felt as if it were a noose slowly being tightened around his neck.

  "You question my moral character, sir!" Kronos jumped up from his seat and lashed out with his fist, catching Toy's glass and sending it shattering against the wall. "You, sir, are walking a very fine line. One bordering on mutiny!"

  Kray tapped his stylus on the table, not to get the attention of the others, but just as another annoying tic that he did before he was going to speak. "Toy brings up a good point. And, yes, a moral question, but the answer is simple. Sometimes we lose a few to save the rest."

  Sanchez made a loud sigh and tossed her head.

  "Yes, I know the slogan we like to bandy around," said Kray. "It was drilled into my head in the academy, through the torture of boot camp, and barked by our sergeants as we crapped our pants before a drop. But it's just a feel good slogan to make us all feel copacetic. To give us that little bit of hope of holding out when it hits the fan. We do leave our brothers and sisters behind. We've been doing so since day one of this glorious institution, and you all know that as well as I do. And we will continue to do so for as long as we occupy these stars. So, I agree. We jettison the Acheron. We eliminate the threat to the Poros and the rest of the convoy. Let a bigger force come in and deal with this mess. We are vastly unprepared for the task that faces us."

  "There, on the screen. Look at them." Sanchez sprung to her feet, knocking her chair to the floor, and pointing at one of the live video feeds from the Acheron.

  Kronos spun around to the wall screen.

  He saw nothing at first, just a shadowy hall, the endless row of pods, the endless tombs of the prisoners, dead before their time. He would need to answer for what happened to them when they eventually reached the Telemachus-4.

  "The ones we lost?" he asked.

  But Sanchez grunted and pointed a finger at the screen. "There they are moving."

  Kronos then saw it, too. Figures hunched along the row of pods, men he was sure of it, moving in the shadows, a line of men. Were these the survivors? He had seen what happened to Engstrom's crew so he had no illusions that still he had a force of men inside the Acheron, men who could creep into the inner workings of the ship and set the reactor to burn itself out, to create an explosion that would destroy the aliens that he had brought aboard it. But now this video told him differently.

  "Toy, track them with the cameras."

  The captain bent over his tablet, accessing the network. The dozens of images on the wall screen reduced down to four, larger, easier to see, all centered on trying to capture footage of the shadowy shapes that moved against the walls inside the prison barge.

  Kronos pointed one of the video feeds. "Zoom in there."

  He could make out the figures. They were humans. He saw the dull metal of a rifle, light reflected off a face shield, body armor. Soldiers were alive in the Acheron and they were hunting.

  They neared a corner and paused.

  "Can you get a shot around that corn
er?" Kronos asked Toy.

  Suddenly the screen filled with a horrific site. A giant bug sucked the brains out a human skull.

  Kray cursed. "Mother of God! We need to jettison the Acheron and then blow it to smithereens. This is hell come alive. Kronos!"

  Suddenly one of the figures in the video leapt around the corner and fired off his rifle at the bug.

  "Get him! Kill that bug!" screamed Sanchez.

  But her joy was short-lived as the bug responded to the bullet fire by charging the shooter.

  Kronos wanted to turn his head. He did not want to witness the massacre of one more man. But as much as he wanted to, he could not break from the scene before him.

  Another figure blurred across the screen, battering the bug and knocking it to the ground. The stunned creature leapt to its feet again. Kronos squeezed his hands so hard that his knuckles popped. But again another man leapt in, a monster of a man in his own right, and he chopped off the head of the beast, and then a woman stepped in and finished it off with fire bursting from her weapon.

  Static washed over the screen and the image disappeared.

  "Toy!"

  "Working on it."

  Kronos blinked hard several times. His stomach churned. His heart raced and his arms felt suddenly heavy. He sat in his chair and pulled a water bubble over and sucked at it greedily. He wanted to find a spot to lie down, to close his eyes for a little while, and reset. It was as if he were the one who had been there in Acheron instead of watching from the safety of the Poros.

  "Kronos!" Kray repeated.

  The admiral shook his head. Did he just fall asleep for a moment? Had he drifted off? His captains were looking at him with concern.

  "I was thinking," he said. "Now what did you say?"

  "What's the order?" asked Sanchez.

  "Those men are trapped down there."

  "So we send in teams to rescue them?" she asked. "I can assemble the teams and have them ready in the briefing hall in five minutes. They are already on standby. I was ready for something like this. Sir?"