The Pilot

by Michael Cole

  Terrie watched as Seymour examined his body for a moment. He then stood up and took a step back. He shouldered his rifle, aiming at the pod. With the silencer still attached, he put several rounds through the center of the pod. Black secretion spilled, along with a mixture of white and orange fluid.

  No way was Seymour going to allow that thing to continue feeding off Ivan. He nodded at Terrie, who led the way up the hill.

  ********

  With her weapon strapped over her back, Terrie grabbed hold of the next branch as she scaled the tree. She hauled herself up, placing her knees over the top of the branch. She was thirty feet in the air, hidden in the canopy as she looked out into the vast plain.

  Even without the use of binoculars, she could see the various movement. The plain was alive with alien creatures. She slowly positioned her sniper scope for a closer view. Alien spawn, both humanoid and insect-like, scurried all over the plain. They varied in sizes. Most of the humanoids stood between four-and-six feet in height, with the arachnids being a similar variety in length. Then there were other creatures, smaller ones, as small as squirrels moving about. Looking further out, she could see the ShinMaywa. Creatures climbed all over it, completely covering the engines and tail.

  A glimmer of light bounced from the wing. Terrie panned the scope over, seeing the Pilot standing under the wing. Its arms were raised, and a sizzling light radiated from one of its gauntlets.

  Seymour and Hawk waited below, looking out at the plain with their binoculars. They could see the horde of creatures, and could barely see the ShinMaywa from their position on the ground. Seymour gauged that it was at least a thousand yards out, well out of range of the RPG. Getting closer would be impossible.

  Terrie climbed down from the tree, making sure to be slow and quiet. Once on the ground, she gathered with Seymour and Hawk.

  “I can’t make the shot,” she said. “They’re all over it. Damn bugs.”

  “What’s its condition?” Seymour asked.

  “Hard to tell, but it appears one of the stabilizers broke loose in the crash,” Terrie said.

  “Did you see the Pilot?” Hawk asked.

  “Yeah. By the looks of it, it’s using its metal bracelet thing to weld the wing back together,” Terrie said.

  “Damn, I was right,” Hawk said.

  “I’d say it’s almost done,” Terrie said. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Can you shoot the engines?” Seymour said.

  “With those things crawling all over it?” Terrie shook her head.

  “We need to draw them away,” Seymour said.

  “We could plant explosives further into the jungle and set them off,” Hawk said. “They might go investigate.”

  “All of them?” Seymour said, expressing doubt. “No, at best, only a handful of them would be drawn off. Something that’ll really piss them off.”

  “Put on MSNBC,” Terrie joked.

  “There is that,” Seymour said. “Maybe I should’ve just blown that bastard up last night when I had the…chance…” He trailed off, as his mind replayed his encounter with the Pilot.

  He remembered standing in the middle of that nest, with two blocks of C-4 strapped to his vest. He remembered the Pilot rushing out from the jungle, rapidly approaching. It marched toward him, its barb ready to sting and paralyze him. As Seymour was about to sacrifice himself and detonate the C-4, it stopped. He assumed it kept distance due to self-preservation, not realizing those pods contained its spawn.

  “Holy shit,” he said out loud. It wasn’t protecting itself…

  “Victor,” Terrie said, ready to talk him out of blaming himself.

  “I know what to do,” Seymour interrupted. “We’re gonna put that C-4 to use.”

  CHAPTER

  38

  Mud and secretion splashed as the team rushed throughout the nest. Seymour placed the open duffle bag down just outside the border. All three of them grabbed several blocks of C-4. They hurried about the nest, planting explosives near the center and perimeter.

  “This’ll sure piss them off,” Terrie said, planting a block near one of the center pods.

  “That’s the point,” Seymour said. He placed several blocks on the north side. He turned and whistled toward Hawk, signaling for her to toss him a couple more blocks. She reached into the duffle bag and tossed two more his way. After catching them like softballs, he moved a little further beyond the perimeter. He dug at the ground with his boot and inserted the C-4 into the hole.

  Terrie and Hawk continued placing charges, making sure the triggering device was inserted into each one. Seymour hurried to the duffle bag and grabbed a couple more. Per Seymour’s instruction, Terrie made sure to dig some holes into the ground, burying some of the charges beneath the mud.

  Hawk placed an explosive at the center of the nest, near a mature pod. After activating the trigger, she looked at the six-foot-tall vessel. Its sides were beginning to pulsate. She immediately realized it was close to giving birth.

  “We’re running short on time,” Hawk said. Seymour looked her way, seeing the pulsating pod.

  “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get moving. We’re just about done.” Terrie and Hawk placed their last explosives and then regrouped at the bag of explosives. After brushing dirt over the explosives, Seymour started moving across the nest to meet up with them. As he did, he passed by another mature pod. Its sides were beginning to pulsate. He took a block of C-4 from his vest. After inserting the triggering device into the side, he tossed the block near the pod.

  “Happy birthday,” he said. He rejoined Terrie and Hawk at the bag.

  “Are we all set?” Hawk said.

  “Almost,” Seymour said. “There’s one more step.” They each grabbed several more explosives and moved into the surrounding jungle.

  ********

  The air sizzled as the Pilot ignited the fusion laser from its gauntlet. The tool, often used as a weapon capable of generating vast destruction, served multiple functions necessary for the species’ survival. The concentrated stream of energy fused the stabilizer back to the frame of the starboard wing. As it finished, the glove on its left appendage altered its form. The pincers folded back, disappearing into slots inside the glove, as other needle-shaped devices protruded from the rounded tip. The Pilot moved under the damaged turbine engine, using the tools to remove the debris from the fan, and reposition the stator vanes. Its spawn scurried throughout the plain, patiently guarding their leader as it prepared its departure. The Pilot clicked its fangs as it deactivated the laser.

  It observed the primitive vehicle, composed of technology inferior to anything the Pilot was accustomed to. The Pilot, however, was not critical of the indigenous species’ technological expertise. It experienced no such emotion. It was nothing other than data, which the Pilot would use to develop tactics to enact its purpose. Each encounter with the local creatures, particularly the intelligent alpha species, gave it knowledge on how to impose its function onto the remainder of this planet.

  Sensory nerves along its neck lit up, generating a shuddering sensation along its exoskeleton. The horde screeched and hissed, as each spawn detected a massive vibration from within the jungle. A downward shockwave swept the ground, accompanied by a thunderous echo.

  An explosion.

  In unison, they turned their attention to the terrain. Through tiny particles along their forehead, invisible to the human eye, the Pilot and its army witnessed the huge funnel of smoke burst from the trees, trailing high into the air.

  Climbing atop the ShinMaywa, the Pilot saw the burning of the trees where the smoke originated. Its brain analyzed the distance and position. The nest! Signals ignited like sparks within its nervous system, serving as an adrenaline boost. Protective instincts took over.

  The Pilot leapt like an insect from the ShinMaywa, and led a forward charge into the jungle. Like a hive mentality, the horde followed. Only a few stayed to protect the launch site.

  A river of charcoal c
olored creatures, humanoid, and arachnid in appearance, flooded the jungle, following their leader in a mad rush to protect the unborn young. There was no fear or sadness felt amongst them. Only urgency, fueled by a drive to fulfill their purpose. Protect and preserve the species.

  The pincers reemerged from its claw, and the gauntlet initiated its glow. The smell of smoke and charred remains permeated the air as the horde drew near the nest. The jungle began to turn black, but not from the natural emission from the pods. The plants and trees were scorched. The orange glow of fire flickered along several of the trees.

  The horde swarmed the nest. The whole environment was desolated, with burnt fragments of the pods scattered about. The secretion fluid was tainted with the blood and remains of the plundered offspring.

  The creatures roamed about, snarling aggressively as they searched for any perpetrators. The Pilot stepped through the devastation. There was nothing to salvage, as none of the pods survived the explosion.

  It watched a river of blood and secretion travel down into an indentation in the ground. Scorched earth, husk, and spawn surrounded these strange craters, pushed outward as though launched. Smoke rose from this hole, and scattered like volcanic ash. Gazing over the nest, the Pilot noticed several of these craters. The earth around them had exploded outward.

  Something else caught the Pilot’s attention. Something was in the muck, scorched, but still intact. A rectangular cube, black in color. It was covered in mud, as though it had been buried, then uprooted in the explosion. A metallic device protruded from the side. A red light flashed from the end.

  Information flooded its brain like a computer. It recalled its encounter with the indigenous warrior. That explosive weapon it used to threaten its nest.

  It was a trap.

  The creature flared its fangs and screeched as it darted into the trees.

  “Hit it!” Seymour yelled, watching through Terrie’s sniper scope as the horde gathered.

  Terrie pressed the button on the activation device. C-4 blocks, buried in the muck within the nest, and scattered throughout the surrounding jungle, detonated. The three of them ducked for cover as the secondary explosions consumed the horde.

  Balls of flame erupted at once, filling the jungle with fire and debris. Fragments of exoskeleton launched through the air like tiny meteorites. The jungle became a volcanic zone, with balls of fire stretching into the atmosphere.

  Momentary shrieks of distress were quickly silenced as the army of spawn was blown to oblivion, reduced to a layer of smoldering innards that covered the smoking landscape. A breeze kicked up, spinning the smoke into a large funnel, and pushed the vile smell of cooking entrails through the terrain.

  Seymour stepped out from behind the tree where he hid, using himself as bait to lure any surviving creatures. Terrie emerged from a depression in the ground and took her rifle back from Seymour. She used her scope and aimed it toward the nest. She saw nothing but burning carcasses and smoke. Hawk stepped out from behind another tree and looked out at the devastation, astonished that the plan actually worked.

  “Holy shit!” Hawk said, while waving her hand around the air to brush the smoke away.

  “Let’s make sure they’re all dead,” Seymour said. He ran to the nest as though staging a forward assault. In seconds, he was consumed within the black twisting smoke. The air began to clear as he searched the nest. He stood in a mushy mud substance, made of a mixture of soil, secretion, and alien remains. The blasts had ravaged an enormous section of jungle, creating a large clearing. No living spawn crawled within the ruins.

  Hawk walked several yards outside the nest perimeter, pointing her firearm in every direction she faced. Smoldering plants surrounded her. Burnt limbs, blown completely off the bodies of spawn, crushed under her feet like walnuts. Nothing moved within the jungle other than flickering fire.

  “Here,” Terrie called out. Seymour stepped out from the nest and joined Hawk as they regrouped with Terrie. They found her standing in the middle of what almost appeared to be crater, where several blocks of C-4 had been planted outside the nest. Ravaged jungle surrounded the crater, with branches of a nearby tree completely scorched, and the smaller plants reduced to scattered fragments.

  Terrie pointed to the ground, toward a small glimmer of light. Several feet from the crater, a three-inch metal fragment lay in the ground. Triangular in shape, the fragment was blackened, and jagged around the edges.

  “Part of its armor,” Hawk said. “Damn, we got the bastard.”

  “We can only hope,” Seymour said. His eyes swept the surrounding jungle, looking for a body.

  “Hope?” Hawk said. “We blew it to freaking pieces!” Her voice was animated, full of victory.

  “We’re not done yet,” Seymour said.

  ********

  The creatures felt the heavy shockwave ripple through the island as the blast consumed their comrades. Various screeches and cries left the remaining group, who had remained to defend their leader’s newly obtained vehicle. The creatures grew confused and bewildered. They could not investigate, as their assigned role was defense. Limited to their drone mentality, they knew nothing other than what the hive required of them. Every hive required a leader, an evolved ruler who commanded the species. Their leader was nowhere to be seen, and none of them would evolve into a liege.

  The creatures scurried around the plain, keeping close enough to their territory to ward off intruders. They chirped and hissed, attempting to communicate with the horde.

  “I count twelve,” Seymour whispered, peeking between the vines of a thick bush as he observed the spawn.

  “We’ve taken more than that,” Terrie said. She tapped her hand over her RPG. “I’m dying to use this bad boy.”

  “I’ll take the left,” Seymour said. “Let me draw them closer, and you’ll get your wish. You only have one round, so don’t miss. Then use your rifle to pick off the ones that are left, while Hawk and I advance.” Seymour leaned back to look at Hawk. “Agent, wait until Terrie fires the rocket. If any survive, they’ll move in on her. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” Hawk said.

  “Alright then,” Seymour said.

  He jumped to his feet and dashed out from the jungle. He stepped into the clear, sunny plain and dashed up the small nearby hill. A humanoid creature turned, seeing Seymour running straight at it. Spurred from its defensive function, it snarled and projected its stingers.

  “That’s my ride,” Seymour remarked. He squeezed the trigger, igniting an automatic burst from his rifle barrel. The humanoid’s neck disappeared into splatters of bubbling orange, and the head peeled off. Echoing gunshots, combined with the spawn’s dying screeches drew the attention of the scattered aliens.

  Four of them, two humanoid, two insect-like, scurried in unison straight for the target. Several meters behind them, four more creatures followed, as though preparing a second wave of assault. Seymour turned his rifle to the left, as a single arachnid quickly advanced. He backed away, moving slightly to the left to keep out of Terrie’s line of fire. He pointed his rifle towards the first group. He focused on the leader and aimed low, squeezing off several rounds.

  The humanoid advanced at the head of the pack, determined to embed its stingers into the intruder. Loud bursts of sound crackled in the air, and nerves lit up in the creature’s lower extremities. Bullets had ravaged its legs at the knee joints. Still trying to advance, the creature fell forward. The pack bunched up, trying to move over and around their fallen comrade. For a brief moment, they bunched up.

  A sparkling projectile tore from the tree line. Zipping through the clear plain, it struck square in the middle of the small pack of creatures.

  Bang!

  The rocket detonated on impact, blasting a mixture of guts and dirt forty feet around it.

  “Nice!” Seymour yelled out. The second wave of creatures scattered. Two of them stayed behind the smoldering remains of their siblings, while the other two, a humanoid and an arachnid, rus
hed the jungle.

  Seymour aimed his rifle, ready to lay down suppressing fire.

  Hawk burst from the tree line, MP5 pointed at the incoming hostiles. Bullets peppered the arachnid’s back, ripping up its exoskeleton and internal organs. As its freshly dead carcass rolled onto its side, Hawk put several rounds into the humanoid. With its abdomen and upper torso shredded, the creature fell back. Hawk quickly moved forward.

  Several yards behind the impact crater, one of the humanoids snarled at her. It leaned forward, mandibles and arms sprawled in an aggressive stance. Barbs protruded, and the creature initiated a run. Hawk snatched a grenade from her vest, removing the pin with her teeth. After calculating its speed and path, she threw the grenade with all her might. It curved in the air, landing down at the creature’s feet. The resulting explosion tore its legs out from under it, sending its torso hurling several feet off the ground.

  Seymour pivoted to the left, ready to open fire on the individual creature. Thirty feet away, the creature stopped its advance. It raised its tentacles over its back, pointing the barbed tips toward Seymour. Thick fluid spat from the tentacles, resulting in a brief, wet noise. Seymour felt a sudden jolt, as his rifle, pointed down, suddenly thrust back into him with a force that knocked him on his back.

  “What in the name of…” Seymour said, kicking against the ground to back up. He held his rifle away from him. The arachnid’s barb was embedded in his rifle, pierced completely through the lower receiver. Looking toward the alien, it had resumed its advance, now twenty-feet away.

  Its head erupted, as a crack of sound echoed from the trees. Dead from Terrie’s sniper bullet, the creature slumped down on its belly. Seymour tossed the weapon to the side and scrambled to his feet.

  “Watch out!” he called. “They have projectiles!” He yanked his revolver from its holster, as the remaining creatures moved in on the team. They were spread out, each of them arachnid in appearance. Clutching the grip of his revolver, he put six rounds into the nearest bug.