Vitalis Omnibus

by Jason Halstead

  Elsa reached out and grabbed his meaty forearm, pulling him to a stop. He turned and stared at her, his expression intentionally blank. Cerberus was the Navy prison and, from what she’d heard, one of the worst places a person could go. “I don’t know what you did and it doesn’t matter. We’ve all done stupid shit, it’s a requirement for being a Marine. Maybe you don’t have the stripes anymore but since I’m the senior Marine on planet, the Corp is proud to thank you for your service.”

  Tarn nodded to the side, rather than offering a response. She followed his gesture and saw a large ditch that had been dug along the southern edge of Treetown. She’d come in from the east through the stream every time. The bottom of the ditch was lined with sharpened stakes. On the near side a ridge had been built up allowing for a higher climb and a superior position for defenders. More importantly, it also allowed for cover from the spitters venom.

  “Is this it?” Elsa asked.

  “Pretty much,” he admitted. “Got a couple of pits covered with vines and leaves too, but not enough to make a difference. We put them in to keep anything big from making our life difficult. Biggest predator in the jungles is the chickasaurus. The pits will make life real miserable for them.”

  “Okay, let’s get back,” Elsa said. The defenses were far from what she’d hoped, but they were better than nothing. If Vitalis would let her she’d prefer to string up proximity mines and sensor nets as well. Maybe a few auto-turrents for good measure. Those weren’t the cards they’d been dealt with, so she turned her attention back to Rosh. “You were a FIST, weren’t you?”

  Tarn nodded. “Exo-planet. FIST team one a lot longer back than I want to admit.”

  Elsa racked her brain then gasped as she put the timing, his FIST team, and military history together. “Blue Vistas?”

  Tarn nodded again.

  Elsa fought to remember the particulars. Something about a group of terrorists taking over the station and holding hostages. FIST team one had secured the station and gotten in a long standoff with the terrorists. It seemed a stalemate until an incident occurred the depressurized one of the bays and wiped out some of the terrorists, as well as nearly two hundred civilian hostages. The rest of the terrorists had surrendered. No official word had been released on the explosive decompression. Unofficially, rumor had it the hull had been holed by the FIST team on purpose. Now Elsa suspected she knew the truth.

  She opened her mouth to ask Tarn if it was true when he pointed ahead of them. They were too close to the gathering. She nodded and stepped into the small clearing, standing several feet away from Sharp as he finished explaining the situation to the rest of the survivors.

  “Tarn and Elsa just reviewed our defenses. If the spitters come at us in force, can we hold out?”

  “No,” Tarn answered.

  Elsa stared hard at him, then turned to the Captain. “Sir, we can hold them off for a while. Maybe indefinitely. It depends on how many there are. We could make more weapons, rocks or logs swinging on vines and held up in the trees. That’s if we even need to. Fiona and Kira might stop them – if anyone can, it would be those two.”

  Grumbling from the small crowd was her response. Klous held up his hand and stepped forward. “After all the time we’ve put in to this place we can’t just abandon it! We don’t know the planet well enough, especially without Kira and Fiona. We could wander into anything and get ourselves killed. We’re safer here, by far. Especially now that we have Elsa, Ben, Jess, Gresham, and Barry. I’ll bet on five Marines against a hundred spitters all day long!”

  A few people cried out while others nodded. Elsa bit back her frown. Something about Klous put her off. If he wanted to stay and fight there had to be something she didn’t see behind it. He was right though, Vitalis was a deadly place and they didn’t know the geography outside the patch of jungle surrounding them. She didn’t even know her way around Treetown yet.

  “Sir,” Elsa had to repeat herself twice to cut through the ascending volume of voices. “Captain, I’ll go and find out what’s happening. I’ll look for Kira and Fiona, but mostly I’ll head for the ridge and see if the spitters are mobilizing.”

  Sharp frowned. “Take Tarn with you, he knows the land.”

  She turned and gave Tarn a faint smile. He nodded back to her, a twinkle in his eyes. “As for everyone else, pack up what you need to survive in case we have to move out in a rush. I’d say a few scouts should head out to find a fall back point, but we don’t have enough people to risk it.

  “You heard the lady,” Sharp said loudly enough to quiet any muttering. “Get yourselves ready. If we don’t hear from Elsa and Tarn by tomorrow morning we’ll head north.” He turned to look at the Marines. “Good luck.”

  Elsa snapped off a salute and spun away. She grabbed Tarn’s arm to pull him after her, then hurried to the rope ladder. Tarn waited while she climbed, watching her effortlessly ascend to the platforms. Elsa glanced down once and wondered if Tarn had enjoyed the view. She pushed the thought aside in spite of the warmth it caused in her belly. They had work to do and she needed some new weapons.

  Chapter 9

  Fiona worked through the narrow trees the spitter she’d followed had entered. She’d managed to track it beyond sunset, though how she wasn’t certain. Kira would tell her the spirit of Vitalis was guiding her. Fiona had scoffed at the pseudo-religion Kira preached at first, but with every passing day her doubts wavered.

  Nearly every species of animal they’d encountered was matriarchal, or as matriarchal as the intelligence of each given species allowed. Humanity had accepted equal rights for a couple of hundred years but with Kira, Fiona, and now Elsa proving themselves more than capable fighters, she wondered if Treetown would soon shift as well.

  Captain Sharp was a capable leader, though he seemed at a loss at times when it came to dealing with managing a small town instead of a ship. Especially when Klous stood ready to offer suggestions that often made little sense. The crew of the Black Hole merged with the others well enough, but anyone who watched them saw the deference they paid to Klous. The only one who seemed independent was Aran, but his interests were obvious and self serving. He dreamed of finding a way to benefit himself and no one else. Ling and Lizzie had settled on each other as a couple, even having a baby, but they always sided with Klous.

  Sasha, Klous’es mate, dragged the matriarchal concept kicking and screaming backwards with her devotion to Klous. She’d follow him into the spitter mound if he asked her to, taking their son Kelsey with her to the slaughter.

  The thought of the spitters drew Fiona up short. She’d been daydreaming—a dangerous pastime in the safest of times. She scowled and moved ahead, slipping silently through a thicket of jungle ferns that marked the edge of the jungle and the beginning of the hills. She emerged into a small clearing a moment later. Fiona dropped to one knee, her bow held horizontal with the arrow in place. She stared around, seeking out what shapes she could in the moonless landscape. Nothing looked out of place or more threatening than usual, though each shadowed depression in the hills or dark spot beneath trees promised to hold dozens of flesh eating animals.

  She glanced down at last, seeking to pick up the hybrid spitter’s trail. Her eyes widened when she found the ground smooth and free of any tracks. It was soft and covered in thick grasses so close to the jungle, an easy place for a skilled tracker. She didn’t have Kira’s skill at tracking, but other than the huntress only Tarn was rumored to be better than she was. If the spitter was no longer ahead of her, that left only one place it could be.

  Fiona lurched to her feet and spun around. Her timing was almost quick enough. The humanoid spitter swung at her, its arm moving so quickly in the darkness it was barely even a blur. She blocked the strike with her bow, but it was a onetime maneuver. The weapon was ripped from her grasp and sent flying.

  Fiona backed away, shaking her tingling left hand while she pulled her spear around and slipped it over her head. The spitter pressed on, mandibles wide to le
t her see human-like lips open. Its teeth were sharp and vicious, but what made her shiver was the warbling cry that came from its mouth.

  She backed away faster, taking in the creature and staying low so she could leap to the side if it tried to spit at her. It was taller than she was and it had been ‘born’ only half a day before. Dark shapes on its back rose up like wings, then folded in on its back. They weren’t wings, she remembered, but a semblance of the shell the four legged spitters possessed. Its arms and legs looked all too human, but a thick dark carapace covered its chest. Below its chest, she noted, it also resembled a human. In particular, a very mature human male. Mature and alarmingly well endowed.

  It kept making noises as it walked after her. The tone changed, almost as though it was trying to talk to her. Was it trying to communicate? She shook the thought aside. It didn’t matter, it was as close to evil as anything they’d found on Vitalis. It existed to hunt, kill, and propagate its species. To see just how intelligent it was Fiona took a risk and feinted a lunge forward. The humanoid jerked back, swiping both arms in front of it defensively.

  “Smart motherfucker, aren’t you?” Fiona muttered. She retreated again, putting more distance between them. From what she’d seen it was faster and probably stronger than she was, running was out of the question and going head to head against it had long odds, given the intelligence it showed. Humans could be dumb as rocks but it seemed human DNA had a lot more potential than people gave it credit for.

  What she had that the hybrid didn’t was weapons. Her bow was gone but she still had her spear and, she realized, her arrows. She reached over her shoulder to her quiver and pulled out one of the arrows. It was her off hand but Kira had drilled her repeatedly on using both hands until it seemed almost natural to her. Throwing an arrow, on the other hand, wasn’t her idea of a dangerous attack. Jeremy had been experimenting with some natural poisons they could coat their weapons with but so far nothing lasted long enough to be worth it.

  She threw the arrow underhand, hoping the low trajectory and lack of daylight would confuse it. The creature failed to protect against the arrow, no doubt expecting it to be another feint. It hit it low in the abdomen, missing what Fiona hoped would have been a very sensitive region by only a few inches.

  It screamed at her and grabbed the arrow stuck in its flesh. The hybrid yanked it free and squeezed, snapping the shaft in half, then threw it to the ground. Fiona took the distraction and lunged at the creature, trying to jam her spear into its chest. Strong as she was, it turned just enough so that the sharpened wooden tip glanced off the rough chest plate. The force of the strike drove it back two steps.

  Fiona grunted as a dark shadow smashed into her face and knocked her head to the side. She scrambled, rolling to her hands and knees and trying to put distance between herself and the creature that had knocked her senseless with a single strike. The entire side of her face tingled and felt hot. Blood was splattered on her arm and hand and it continued to fall from her chin in a stream.

  Cruel claws grabbed her leg just below her waist. The talons of the hybrid’s hand dug into her flesh as it tried to yank her back. Fiona pulled against it. She clenched her teeth and discovered that something else was wrong. The blow seemed to have dislocated or possibly even broken her jaw. The fresh pain brought enough focus back to her to realize she still held her spear in her hand. The same hand that was coated in her own blood.

  Fiona reared up and twisted, swinging the spear in a backhanded strike that caught her assailant in the side of the head with a resounding crack. It stumbled back, stunned by the blow. The Marine’s spear was broken by the impact but she gained a few precious seconds.

  Fiona lurched to her feet, throwing the broken shaft of the spear to add insult to injury. She stumbled away, running crooked at first then gaining her balance. She climbed up the hill, breathing hard and wondering how she could escape in the open terrain of the hills. Even making it to the nearest cache of weapons was at least a ten minute run, something she knew the spitter would never let her do. An arrow in the eye or mouth? She had a better chance of getting the beast to agree to a game of three dimensional chess.

  A great weight slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground. She felt fetid breath and felt the rough texture of the short black hairs that emerged from its hardened exoskeleton. It babbled at her again, its tone shrill and unmistakable. It was pissed off. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder that made her gasp. It’s hands were holding her arms, that left only its mouth. She’d been bitten.

  Rather than tear out a chunk of flesh and leave her to bleed out, the teeth retracted and the weight lightened on her back. Fiona pushed back with her arms, then shifted and felt the hot flesh of its abdomen and maleness against her back and buttocks. She gasped again, terrified at the fear of such contact. She jerked against it, twisting to drive her elbow into it and knocking the hybrid off to the side. She rolled and lashed out with her leg, her foot glancing off its thigh and catching it in the most offensive part of its anatomy.

  The spitter’s mouth gaped open and she heard air rush through it. It howled a moment later, after its hands grasped to protect itself. Fiona rolled away and sprang to her feet. For the first time in months she regretted the lack of clothing. She felt vulnerable after the brief and all-too-intimate contact. Vulnerable and dirty. She turned back to the spitter, which was curling up to protect itself, and spat on it. One of its arms reached for her but it made no move to get up.

  Fiona jumped back, stumbling as she did so. She felt hot and off balance. She spun away, trying to think which direction the nearest weapons cache was at. It needed to die but even with it in pain she knew she needed more than her hands and feet to kill it. She started to run but her right leg wasn’t moving quickly enough. She twisted, struggling to stay upright, and fell up the side of small hill. She picked herself up but her legs were too sluggish to obey.

  The spitter was back on its feet and approaching, though one hand still covered its genitals. The hybrid moved with a limp.

  Each breath she took was pained. Her body felt like it was on fire and it wasn’t responding to her. She fell back, her arms slipping as her strength left her. It hadn’t spit on her, but it had bitten her.

  It stood above her and stared down, dropping its hands to its side. She stared up, unable to move or do more than moan in defiance. Why hadn’t it killed her? Was she to be taken back and serve as a host? She struggled inside her body. Her arm twitched then lay still. Her eyes were burning now. They were dry and on fire. She tried to blink and, with a herculean effort she managed to close her eyelids. A moment later the spitter picked her up roughly, pulling her back from the brink of a great blackness. She couldn’t open her eyes, they felt like they weren’t even attached to her body anymore.

  Terrified but unable to do anything, the venom worked through her until it stole even her mind from her.

  Chapter 10

  “You’re not ready for this!” Jess was persistent.

  “None of us is ready for the alternative,” Elsa said. She shrugged and brushed her hand over her stitches. They itched and she was aching to take them out as soon as she got out of Jess’s line of sight. “Besides, I feel fine. Well, I’m really hungry, but that’s about it.”

  The medic scowled. “I can’t stop you, but please be careful.”

  “Careful’s my middle name!”

  Jess’s eyes narrowed more, if possible. “No, your name is Elsadora How-bad-can-I-fuck-myself-up-this-time Quinn!”

  Tarn coughed out a laugh and turned away, hand covering his mouth. He turned back, a grin slowly fading. “I’m the first one to pay admission for a good old fashioned hair pulling and clothes ripping cat fight, but this ain’t the time. Sorry Doc, but this Marine’s coming with me.”

  Jess scowled again and turned away. Elsa watched her then yelped in surprise when the medic turned back and gave her a brief but firm hug. Jess turned away and walked stiffly away without a word after that.


  “That make sense to you?” Tarn asked.

  Elsa sighed. “FIST team three is her responsibility. Mine too, but keeping my boys and girls alive is secondary to the success of the mission. For Sergeant Robinson her priority is keeping us alive.”

  “You ain’t FIST team three anymore,” Tarn pointed out.

  Elsa nodded. “We know that, but old habits die hard. Besides, Jess and I have known each other a long time. We’re close.”

  Tarn grunted. He’d had enough of trying to understand the inner workings of the female gender. “Let’s go, time’s wasting.”

  Elsa’s stomach grumbled. She glanced at it. “My stomach disagrees, but let’s go. Won’t be the first time I’ve been hungry.”

  “Might be the last,” Tarn said. He turned and peered up until he saw a woman walking along a bridge between trees holding the hand of a small child. “Lizzie! Can you toss down a couple of rockfruits?”

  “What’s a rockfruit?” Elsa asked. Above them Lizzie waved at him and kept walking to the next platform. Once there she appeared near the railing and held up two melon sized spheres, each the color of slate.

  “Just wait,” Tarn said, holding out his arms. Lizzie dropped one of the fruits to him, then a moment later the other. Tarn held one out to Elsa then started walking to the stream to the east.

  Elsa studied the fruit. It looked and felt like a stone but the weight was wrong. “What do I do with this?”

  “Hold on to it,” Tarn said. He kept going, not stopping until they reached the stream. Once there he found a real rock and smashed his rockfruit against it carefully. The cracking noise it made was dull but unmistakably organic.

  Tarn pulled the two halves apart and showed them to Elsa. Inside was a colorful mixture of green and yellow pulp. At the center of one half of the fruit was a white mass with tendrils stretching out from it into the pulp. “The white thing is the roots of a new tree, but they ain’t matured yet. Least that’s what Jeremy said. That part tastes the best, but the whole thing’s pretty good.”