by S. A. Lusher
They all turned to look at Eric as he stepped in, then began coming for him.
Trying to retain a firm grip on his sanity, Eric raised his rifle, leveled it at the nearest twisted, malformed former human and squeezed the trigger. The armor-piercing round opened up a big, bloody hole in the center of the thing’s forehead. Its head snapped back in a spray of brains and blood, showering the others. He adjusted his aim and fired again, the connecting shot tearing away a good portion of another meat machine’s skull.
With as much cool and calm as he could muster, Eric put the hideous things down one after the other. As he killed the last one, all became still and silent in the conversion bay. Sighing quietly, Eric slapped a fresh magazine home and jogged across the room. He found a ladder at the back and quickly scrambled up it. Activating the keypad at the top, he opened up the hatch that led into a cramped but serviceable airlock, got inside of it and began its cycle. He wanted this done with. Wanted to be out of here. Wanted to sleep.
It was all he could think about.
The airlock finished its cycle. As it did and the hatch overhead opened, Eric felt panic shoot through him as an awful, acidic stench boiled in through his air vents and he began to cough violently. Realizing his mistake, he quickly closed his vents and activated his oxygen supply. He hunkered down in the airlock while he coughed the rest of the crap up. His chest burned. How could he have missed something so simple? So basic?
The lethargy was taking its toll.
As he finished coughing, Eric checked his chronometer. Ten minutes had passed. Not much time left to operate. He hauled himself up and out of the airlock, coming onto the surface of the installation. There was about eight feet of space between the roof of the installation and the rocky surface of the cavern’s natural ceiling. That would at least keep the bigger ones from coming out here. Probably. Eric looked around and saw that he was alone for now. He also saw the communications array maybe thirty meters away.
He started jogging.
The only things that went through his head related to getting the job done. After that last scare, he was putting all of his resources into the single goal of getting the job done and staying alive. Nothing else. No distractions. No other thoughts. Nothing. He crossed the distance and remained alone. Eric studied the array as he got his explosives out. A broad, flat silver cylinder served as a base for a tower made of a complicated gridwork of metal and circuitry that shot straight up and disappeared into a hole in the ceiling about two feet in diameter. Eric looked up it. Even with his light enhancements, he couldn’t see the top.
It must go straight to the surface, he realized.
Knowing he had limited time, he set to work. Eric quickly placed the first charge, then glanced over his shoulder and let out a small scream of surprise. A gibbering, twitching maniac meat machine was sprinting across the surface of the installation, coming right for him. He barely managed to get his gun up in time to pop off two shots and put the thing down. It tripped and slammed to the roof, skidding and sparking as it went.
Eric activated his radio. “Drake, I’m at the comms array, I’ve got explosives and I’m planting them. How far are you?”
“We’re almost there. Good work. Keep going,” Drake replied.
“There’s things up here with me,” Eric said, spotting another three in the distance, quickly moving closer.
“We’re coming.”
Eric wasted another half a minute sighting and putting down the ugly bastards, but even as he did, he saw more crawling up. They were far enough away that he could at least plant one more explosive. He did, affixing it to the tower itself and setting the charge. Once it was done, he spun back around, aimed and fired at the nearest meat machine.
He managed to take down another four before and as he was aiming at a fifth, a bullet came from another direction and took it out. Glancing over, Eric saw another pair of suited figures hurrying over towards him.
“Keep going!” Drake called. “We’ll watch your back!”
Trusting them to do it, Eric spun back around and quickly began setting up the rest of the explosives. Seconds ticked by, bleeding into minutes as he sweated profusely and worked as quickly as he could. He listened to the screams of the meat machines and the sounds of Drake and Stacker protecting him, shooting the creatures as they came.
Finally, he placed the last bomb and added all the grenades he had on him, just to make sure. He didn’t want all of this to be for nothing.
“Done,” he said as he finished keying the detonator up.
“We need to move, we have barely over a minute now,” Drake replied.
The three of them began running along the roof of the installation, taking out any meat machines they saw, as more of the ugly things were crawling up through holes in the roof and along the sides of the structure.
“We need to get back inside, it’s too dangerous up here,” Eric said.
“No time. When it hits thirty seconds, blow it. We’ll make for that ramp we originally came up, save ourselves a lot of grief,” Drake replied.
Eric figured he had a point. They managed to run for another ten seconds before they hit the thirty second mark on the countdown and he hit the detonator. A tremendous thunderclap split the air and even though it was well behind them, Eric could see a brilliant flash of light. As they kept running, the installation didn’t stop shaking.
In fact, it began to shake more.
“Uh-oh,” Eric said.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘uh-oh’!?” Stacker cried.
“I think that explosion destabilized the structure. We need to get down from here right the fuck now,” Eric replied.
All three of them ran as fast and hard as they could, ignoring or dodging around the erratically moving meat machines that still occupied the roof with them. All around them, the structure was coming apart. Whole sections of it were breaking away from the ceiling and plunging to the lava pool below. The sound was tremendous, an awful crashing symphony of shrieking metal as it ripped and tore like paper.
Eric was just beginning to wonder if they were going to make it out of there when, suddenly, they were at the edge of the installation. They looked down over the edge. The ramp was about ten feet below them.
“Jump!” Drake yelled.
It wasn’t like the had a lot of choice. The three of them leaped from the roof of the installation at about the same time it began to collapse. They all landed hard on the natural platform and continued sprinting down it as debris rained from above. None of them stopped until they’d hit the tunnel that granted access to the immense cavern.
Eric turned around as they did and watched the last of the installation fall from the ceiling and crash to the lava pool below, disappearing slowly into it with the rest of the structure. For a long moment, no one said anything.
Finally, after what felt like a long time, Drake activated his radio. “Weller...this is Drake. We’ve completed our mission successfully and need a pickup. What’s your status?”
“I’ve made repairs to the ship and I’m parked about as close to the exit as I can be. I’m waiting here for you,” she replied.
“Good. Thanks. We’re on our way.”
The three of them turned away and began their slow trek back to the surface.
EPILOGUE
Greg felt almost delirious as he navigated the brilliantly lit corridors of the Dauntless.
They’d made it back to the ship, finally. He’d slept some on the way home and when he’d awoken, confused and uncertain, he’d followed Callie and the others as they’d rushed Allan through the airlocks and to the medical bay. He’d stayed with Callie for almost an hour as they’d induced a coma and began running every scan they had available to them to determine whether or not he was still alive, still himself, and still able to be saved.
He’d nodded off three times before Callie made him leave and told him to go to bed. He’d only left after making her promise to wake him if anything happened. Now he was going
to bed. There were things to do, he knew. People to see, to talk to. Hawkins to make a report to, Eve, if she was here, to see if the relationship was still salvageable.
Finally, after several minutes of lethargic navigation, Greg finally found his quarters. He opened the door and stepped inside, then stopped.
Eve was inside, getting undressed.
“Oh...sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” she said, equally awkwardly. They both stared at each other for a long moment. Greg finally cleared his throat.
“I guess we should talk, huh?”
“We should but...I’m too tired and too stressed. I just got back from a mission and, obviously you have too. Can we just...make love and sleep?” she asked.
He nodded and began to take off his shirt.
* * * * *
When Greg woke up, Eve was still asleep beside him.
For a moment, he didn’t remember anything. There was just him, in the bed with Eve, both of them naked and warm and comfortable in the darkness.
Then he had a flash of Allan’s steel, false hand snapping John’s neck and the good feelings were gone. Greg wanted to go back to sleep, he still felt like shit, still hurt, but a few things drove him from the bed. The first was the fact that he had to piss really bad, the second was that he was starving. His stomach felt like a black hole, a yawning maw of endless hunger. He pulled the blankets back and stood up. Several things popped inside of him as he stretched. Lots of him still hurt. He moved into the bathroom and flipped on the light to its lowest setting, then pissed for a long time. As he glanced at the shower, he had another reason for getting up.
He fucking reeked.
“Greg?”
He finished pissing and flushed, then returned to the bedroom. “Yeah?” he asked. Eve was sitting up in bed, studying it.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
Frowning, he moved forward and studied the bed. It was too dark to discern anything, so he flipped on the light and looked. Judging by the position of the blood, he saw that it was his leg wound he’d gotten from that damned shark thing. Glancing down, he saw the wound smeared with blood. It had obviously clotted a while ago, but it needed attention.
“Here,” Eve said, getting up. “Let’s take a shower, get cleaned up, then I can take a look at it.” She grabbed an emergency medical kit from the wall and shooed him into the bathroom. She set the kit down on the counter, then turned on the water. They climbed into the shower together and began carefully washing each other off.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.
“What?” Eve replied.
“I’m sorry for leaving. For thinking my plan could work. Sorry that I basically left you for my ex...and then I showed back up, hoping to get back together when that didn’t pan out. I feel pretty shitty about it.”
“It’s...okay, Greg,” she murmured as she wiped away the blood on his thigh. “I get why you did it. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me, that was just an unhappy side effect. You were trying to look after your own mental and physical health, and I can’t blame you for that. I’m not mad at you for that. I mean...okay, I am, but I recognize that it’s an emotional response and I’ll get over it eventually. As for hooking back up...”
He felt his stomach turn over as she hesitated.
Would she take him back? She was still a great woman, a great partner for a lot of different reasons.
“I like you, Greg. A lot. And I liked what we had together.”
“What we had? I’m sensing a but coming,” he murmured.
“You’re very perceptive. I’m sorry, but...I don’t think we can be together anymore. I mean...I’m okay with being your friend and I’m okay with having sex. You’re good at both. But...this isn’t really because of you, personally. This is...I mean...” she sighed and stood up. Turning around, she put her face into the waterfall for a few seconds, then rubbed her eyes and turned back around. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve put kind of a bit of distance between us ever since the beginning. It’s because I’m afraid of getting too attached to anyone. And when you left, it kind of reinforced that idea that I’d be better off being more independent, more self-reliant. So, I mean, yeah, I’m okay with fun and friendship, I just don’t think we can share a cabin anymore.”
Greg was silent for a long moment, thinking about her words.
They hurt.
It felt weird. Rationally, he knew that there was functionally not much difference between this new relationship she was proposing and the one they’d had before. In a way, it was even better. There would be no more pretensions, no more uncertainty. He’d know exactly where he stood with her. But...it still hurt, because he really did like her, he might even love her. But she wouldn’t love him back out of self-interest.
And he couldn’t even blame her for that.
He couldn’t promise not to die or leave her. No one could promise that.
“I understand,” he said finally.
“...thank you. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.”
Neither of them spoke as they finished showering. Once they were soaped and cleaned and dried off, they tended to each others’ wounds. When that was done, Greg popped several painkillers, dressed and left the room. On his way out, he glanced at the clock and was shocked to find that nearly twelve hours had passed since he’d laid down. There was still much to do, but before he could do any of it, he needed to eat.
He walked until he reached the galley and stepped inside. He was alone. Greg spent a half hour hunting through the fridge, firing up both a frozen pizza and some leftover homemade burritos that were labeled ‘fair game’. He ate all of it and downed three cans of Vex. As he was finishing up, Callie poked her head in.
“Greg! I’ve been looking for you,” she said.
“What happened?” he asked, standing up. “Is Allan okay?”
She nodded sullenly. “He’s fine, for now. He’s stable and they’ve decided to keep him in the coma for a while longer. They’re growing cloned replacements limbs and eyes. The good news is that he is alive and, from what they can tell, he’s still in there. They should be able to fix all the damage. The bad news is that there’s a chip in his brain and it’s in a risky place. The surgery to get it out will take around ten hours, and that’s just the first surgery of around...six he’s going to need. They’re prepping him for that first surgery right now,” she said.
“Well...that’s good, for the most part. What were you looking for me for then?”
“The funerals are going to start soon,” she replied quietly.
“Funerals? As in, plural? Who else died?” he asked.
“Oh...you didn’t hear? Laura Porter...didn’t make it. From what Eric tells me, she sacrificed herself to kill two huge, powerful creations of Erebus.”
“Oh...god...” Greg moaned, sitting down heavily.
Callie came up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Greg,” she whispered. “I’ve seen you two spending a lot of time together recently...were you close?”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, staring at nothing, hands on his head. “I was...she...” He stopped talking, unable to form words.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly from behind.
They remained like that for several minutes until Greg finally stirred. “I guess we should get going,” he murmured.
They both headed out of the galley and kept walking until they arrived at the same room that had served as an impromptu funeral service area the last time they’d had to do this. He sat down heavily on one of the foldout chairs and Callie sat next to him. Most of the others were here. Drake and Eric, Eve, Jennifer and Genevieve. He also spotted Keron, Vetra, Weller and Martel, as well as several others. Hawkins stood at the front, behind a podium, frowning intensely. Not long after Greg had arrived, he began speaking.
Greg didn’t really hear much of what he was saying. He couldn’t stop
looking at the two coffins across the room, by the far wall, beneath a broad window that showed the vast infinity of space. Mertz and Porter were dead.
Dead.
Gone forever.
He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to them, but wasn’t that almost always the case? No one in Anomalous Ops ever died a slow death. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but eventually, it came time for him to speak. He got up and trudged to the podium, taking Eric’s place. The next few minutes passed for him in a daze. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he ended up saying, only that he would miss both of them tremendously, and they gave their lives for the greater good of humanity. He was the last one to speak.
After that, they sent both coffins out through the airlock, sailing into the deep infinite dark of space. Greg stood at the windows with the others for a long time. One by one, they all left, until, eventually, he was the only one.
Or so he thought.
Behind him, Hawkins cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” he said quietly, coming to stand next to him. His reflection in the glass looked miserable.
“So am I,” Greg replied softly. “Most of all I’m sorry for Allan. He’s going to have to live with this. He already has so much to live with.”
“I know,” Hawkins murmured, sighing heavily.
“I’m surprised you haven’t come to us for an after-action report yet,” Greg said after a moment of silence.
“I’ve been way too busy,” Hawkins replied, running a hand over his shaved skull. “Our little rescue op got us a lot of unwanted attention. Things are going to be pretty annoying for the next...I don’t know how long. We’re officially being submitted to a formal inquiry. All of us. They’re going to have some investigators here starting next week. They’re going to go over every inch of the ship, comb through our databases, have extensive interviews and psych checks with everyone onboard. It’s going to be hell.”
