Outpost Hell

by Jake Bible

  “But the processors are on top of the buildings there,” Manheim said as he flicked his hand up so the image included the roof of the building. “Am I wrong?”

  “You are not wrong,” the AI said. “Perhaps they have excavated and created basements for each building? Possibly a way to grow food and harvest water without having to deal with the harsh conditions of the planet.”

  “Could be,” Manheim said. “Get me Kay. Now. Do what you have to do. I want to let her know to inspect below each building.”

  “I have been trying to reach Private Kay, but the comm system will not connect,” the AI said.

  “Try again,” Manheim ordered. “Push the signal as hard as you can.”

  “That could be uncomfortable for the Marines,” the AI said. “Possibly painful if their comms produce feedback.”

  “Like I said, do what you have to,” Manheim said. “I want to talk to Kay and find out what the hell is going on in there.”

  “Of course, Sergeant Manheim,” the AI said.

  An almost earsplitting burst of static squelched in Manheim’s ear.

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

  “I am sorry, but the only way to boost the signal was to broadcast on an open channel,” the AI said. “It did not work.”

  “I can tell,” Manheim said as he rubbed at his ear. “Warn me next time, will ya?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” the AI said.

  Manheim rubbed at his temples. He glanced at the med bay’s doorway, but thought better of trying to leave the pod again. The AI’s programming would not allow him to inflict self-harm.

  “Let’s try something else,” Manheim said. “Fire up thrusters. Set them to flair at one-second intervals. That should get the team’s attention.”

  “It may also get the attention of hostiles,” the AI said.

  “Possibly,” Manheim conceded. “So keep the ship locked down tight unless you have confirmation that one of my Marines is coming aboard.”

  “Understood,” the AI said.

  Manheim felt the rumbling of the thruster engines start up. He continued to study the holo of the outpost as he waited to see if his idea would bring some or all of the team back to the ship.

  ***

  After the second burst of painful static, Kay nodded to Nordanski.

  “Go check on the drop ship,” she said.

  “Me? Chann was all willing to go have a look see earlier,” Nordanski replied.

  “And now I want you to go do it,” Kay said. “I want Chann and Ma’ha with me as Taman gives us a tour of the buildings.”

  Taman’s grin faltered, but didn’t completely fall as he said, “Yes, of course. As I am sure you will give me a tour of your drop ship so I may meet your sergeant.”

  Kay caught the quick look that Ma’ha gave her. So did Taman.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Taman asked. “If we are to work together, then I will need to meet the man that is in charge.”

  “We haven’t said we’d work with you yet,” Kay replied.

  “I don’t believe either of us have a choice,” Taman said. “You need parts to repair your ship. We know where those parts are. We need a way off this planet. Your ship is the only way. I do not see how you can refuse such an arrangement.”

  “We’re Marines,” Ma’ha said, gripping his carbine tighter. “We can refuse whatever we want to refuse.”

  “Which is why I would prefer to speak with your sergeant,” Taman said.

  “Nord? Check the drop ship,” Kay ordered. “Taman? How about that tour? If we are going to make a deal, then I’ll need more than your say-so on what is going on around here.”

  “Going on?” Taman asked, looking confused. “I do not understand. I have spoken plainly.”

  “Words are great, but I like to confirm things with my own eyes,” Kay said. She looked at the other Marines. “Nord!”

  “On it, on it,” Nordanski responded as he turned to leave the cafeteria. Two very large men blocked his path. “Excuse me.”

  “Let him by,” Taman said.

  The two men moved to the side so Nordanski could pass. He gave them each a withering look, but neither withered.

  “How soon until the storm hits?” Kay asked.

  “Hard to say for sure,” Taman replied. “Let me give you the tour of our outpost. We can check the atmospheric readings in the command room. It is a modest space, nothing as well outfitted as I am sure you are used to, but it does the job and keeps us from being overcome by any surprises.”

  “Sounds good,” Kay said. “Lead the way.”

  Taman stood and motioned for his people to make way. They parted like water and allowed Taman to lead Kay, Chann, and Ma’ha from the cafeteria.

  Chann leaned in close to Kay. “Gut’s not liking this.”

  “Neither is mine,” Kay whispered. “Eyes open.”

  ***

  Nordanski stepped out into a gloomy landscape of sand and wind. The weather had already begun to change just in the time they’d been inside the outpost building. Not knowing the planet at all, Nordanski couldn’t say if the weather shift was part of the storm that Taman had said was coming or if it was just the way the nights were on the planet.

  When he was only a few meters from the building, two things caught his eye. First, was the strange sight of the drop ship’s thrusters cycling off and on. That wasn’t normal. Nordanski figured it was Sarge trying to get someone’s attention. Second, was a fleeting glimpse of a shape hurrying through the windy night away from the outpost buildings.

  Nordanski almost went after the shape. His Marine instinct was to track down potential danger and neutralize it. But Kay had ordered him to check the drop ship first. Orders were orders, and the fact the drop ship’s thrusters continued to fire up and die down over and over again made a much stronger case for him to actually follow those orders.

  Turning from the direction the shape had moved off in, Nordanski jogged the opposite way to the drop ship. When he reached the side airlock, he waved his wrist against the sensor and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened.

  He waved his wrist over the sensor again then tried to engage his comm. That earsplitting squelch of static returned and he switched it off before he went deaf. One more wave of his wrist and the airlock still refused to open.

  “Gonna have to do it the old fashioned way,” Nordanski said.

  He flipped his H16 around and banged on the airlock with the butt of the carbine. Over a dozen smacks later and the airlock hissed open, a set of four stairs quickly descending to the sand at his feet.

  “About damn time!” Nordanski said as he stepped through the airlock hatch and waited for it to seal behind him.

  Before the airlock could close, a hand grabbed the edge of the door, engaging the emergency override to avoid anyone from being crushed. Nordanski was facing the opposite direction, his attention on the internal airlock hatch, so he didn’t see what was attached to the hand until it was too late.

  “What is taking so—?” Nordanski began to mutter when he was grabbed from behind and thrown against the airlock wall.

  He hit the floor hard and barely had a second to glimpse a warped and scarred face before he was picked up and thrown out of the drop ship. He landed hard in the sand, skidding for a couple of meters before he rolled to a stop.

  Nordanski was up on a knee with his carbine at the ready the second his body stopped moving. He took aim at the airlock, but the outer hatch was wide open and he could tell there wasn’t anyone, or anything, inside it. He swung his weapon to the right, but that way was clear. He didn’t get a chance to swing to the left.

  Picked up once again, Nordanski found himself being held aloft by two very, very powerful arms. He assumed they were arms. It was hard to know since he was being held up by his back and all he could see were the clouds in the night sky. Nordanski tried to twist himself about for a better look, but he wasn’t given the chance as he was flung against the hull of the drop ship.
/>
  The air was forced from his lungs by the impact. Even his battle armor didn’t protect him from the force of the throw. Nordanski watched in fear as his carbine went flying out of his hands. Then he watched the ground come rushing up at him as he slammed into the sand.

  Something, probably a rib, snapped in his chest and trying to replace the air that had been forced from his lungs suddenly became an exercise in excruciating pain. Nordanski tried to push up on his hands, screamed at the stabbing pain that produced, then collapsed and instead rolled onto his back.

  A shadow fell over him, and he turned his head in time to see a second shape join the first. Then something very big and very heavy came down on his helmet and it all went black.

  ***

  “Anything?” Manheim asked.

  “Yes, the starboard airlock has been engaged and Private Nordanski was about to come onboard,” the AI said.

  “Was about to?” Manheim said.

  “He was intercepted by an unidentified life form,” the AI replied. “I think.”

  “You think? What the hell does that mean?” Manheim snapped.

  “As I stated, the life form is unidentified,” the AI said. “Using the brief scans I was able to obtain, I cannot find an entry in the galactic database of known species or races that match.”

  “Okay, then it’s a local that the GF never discovered,” Manheim said. “Not the first time that has happened on a planet this far out.”

  “Except that there is an outpost on this planet,” the AI said. “And the current occupants of the outpost have stated that others have visited this planet before. It would stand to reason that any unidentified life forms would have been discovered and subsequently identified.”

  “You have way more confidence in the abilities of bureaucracy than I do,” Manheim said. “You’d be surprised by how much of the obvious the GF misses. This is an old outpost and probably abandoned before a thorough survey of the planet could be performed.”

  “But why would the current occupants not complete the survey?” the AI asked.

  “No way to know without asking,” Manheim said. “What kind of field prosthetics do we have aboard ship?”

  “Sergeant Manheim, I cannot allow you to leave the med pod until your prosthetic interface is finished healing,” the AI said. “Twelve hours. I will sedate you if need be.”

  “One of my Marines is in trouble by an unidentified life form,” Manheim growled. “I can’t get ahold of the rest of the team, and there’s no one up on the Romper to come help. I’m all there is.”

  “Sergeant Manheim, I am not trying to be unreasonable,” the AI said. “Even if I did consent to outfit you with a quick field prosthetic, it would take forty-five minutes for the initial procedure alone, followed by another forty minutes of calibration. There is no way to compress that timeline.”

  “Then you best be getting started,” Manheim said.

  “Sergeant…” the AI replied.

  “Do it!” Manheim barked. “And hurry!”

  “If I hurry, I risk hurting you,” the AI said.

  “I can take pain, believe me,” Manheim said as he got settled for the procedure. “Do it.”

  The med pod closed and several robotic arms sprang from internal hatches, all whirring and ready to get to work. Manheim was writhing in agony within seconds of the arms beginning the procedure.

  ***

  “More sleeping quarters,” Taman said as he gestured down a corridor to Kay’s right. “We adapted storage lockers.”

  “Why?” Kay asked. “This outpost should be able to house all of you without the need for extra space.”

  “There were considerably more of us here,” Taman said. “At one time, we needed the extra space. As our numbers dwindled, no one felt the need to leave spaces they had made their own, so we left the lockers as they are and adapted unused sleeping quarters into storage. I know it sounds backwards, but we make do with what we have.”

  Taman stopped and gave Kay a wan smile.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your helmet,” Taman replied. “There was no need to put it back on. The air in here is perfectly breathable.”

  “Thank you, but with one of my men outside, I like to have my heads-up display on,” Kay said.

  “Yes, of course,” Taman said and let it drop. “If you will follow me, we’ll proceed to the next building.”

  The Marines had already been led from the first building and into the second via a short airlock corridor that bridged the gap between them. Taman showed them through a second airlock corridor and into the third building where about fifteen people were waiting, all smiles and happy faces of greeting.

  It creeped Kay out, and she could tell the reception had the same effect on Ma’ha and Chann by the way their bodies stiffened and their hands tightened around the grips of their carbines. The crowd parted and allowed the party to slip past into the third building.

  “Your folks seem eager to meet us,” Kay said.

  “I believe word has already spread that you may be our way off this planet,” Taman said.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Kay said. “We still have to repair our transport that’s up in orbit. That may not happen.”

  “Oh, I am sure we can find the correct parts your ship needs,” Taman said.

  “Maybe,” Kay said. “Maybe not. Even if we do find the right parts, we still have to get them up to the Romper and do the repairs. A lot can go wrong with those steps.”

  “Yes, well, I hope you won’t begrudge me for indulging my people’s hopes,” Taman said.

  “Hope away,” Kay said.

  Before they were more than a few meters into the third building, a hatch opened in the corridor and the little girl the Marines had first encountered came running towards Taman.

  “Voxah? What is wrong?” Taman asked.

  The girl motioned for Taman to kneel down and he did. She leaned in and whispered into his ear.

  “Here? Now?” Taman exclaimed. He looked over his shoulder and up at Kay then returned his attention to Voxah. “Are you for certain? If this is a prank, then there will be serious consequences.”

  The girl shook her head, her eyes wide.

  “What?” Kay asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Taman stood and faced her, clearing his throat while he avoided her intense gaze.

  “There has been an incident,” Taman said. “Your man, Nordanski was it? Well…he’s been taken.”

  “Taken? By who?” Kay asked. She held a hand out to stop Ma’ha and Chann from reacting with violence. “Talk to me, Taman, or the only place you and your people are going is straight to Hell.”

  “Unfortunately, we are already there,” Taman said.

  “Who took Nordanski?” Ma’ha shouted.

  “The… The original inhabitants of this outpost,” Taman said, his voice quiet and afraid. “Marines.”

  “Marines? Like us?” Chann asked.

  “No,” Taman stated. “Nothing like you. Not anymore.”

  2

  Even with his enviro suit on, Nordanski could swear sand was stuck up in cracks and crevices where he didn’t want sand to be.

  That was the first thought that flitted through his mind. Right before the second thought, which was an abbreviated, disjointed rehashing of his encounter with his attacker, slammed to the forefront of his mind and caused him to jerk upright.

  Well, not so much upright as to bend at the waist and see that he was suspended by his feet from the ceiling of some cave. His boots were encased in a glittering material that looked like crystal. His H16 was nowhere in sight. He patted at his belt and his knife and other tools were gone as well. Not good.

  Nordanski tried to bend further so he could reach his boot and the spare knife he kept in a hidden side compartment, but the enviro suit and battle armor just weren’t flexible enough to allow him that range of movement. It was a flaw in the design of the outfit since he was certainly in shape enough to do a hanging crunch.
/>
  “Okay, Nord, figure this out,” Nordanski said to himself. “Assess the situation and come up with a solution. You aren’t dead yet. There has to be a reason.”

  He looked around the space he was hanging in and saw several piles of objects strewn about. A pile of old, moldy clothing. A pile of what looked like shredded boots and shoes. A pile of metal and hunks of plastic.

  A pile of bones.

  “Oh, come on,” Nordanski hissed. “Those better be oversized gump bones.”

  He squinted into the gloom and became fairly certain they were not oversized gump bones. They may not have all been human, easily seen by some of the spurs and spikes coming off of the larger of the bones, but they weren’t gump. Not even terpig. They were people bones. Of various races, sure, but still people bones.

  “Shit,” Nordanski said.

  His instinct was to panic. It was very un-Marine, but he’d been in a similar situation once. Maybe not with so many bones, but a situation where he was just as helpless. At that time, there had been six Marines held against their will. Nordanski was the only one that made it out.

  “Calm down, calm down, calm down,” he whispered. “Take a breath. You can get yourself out of this. There is a way. There’s always a way.”

  The way he’d gotten out of the last situation had been to bite a chunk of his tongue off and pretend to be hacking up lungfuls of blood. One of his captors came to check him and he made his move. The woman hadn’t gone down easy, but in the end, Nordanski managed to snap her neck and get the keys to his shackles out of her pocket.

  Then he ran like hell and never looked back.

  A simple realization kept gnawing at him: where would he go?

  He could get free, he could run like hell, he could escape whatever his captor was, but then what?

  “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “Doesn’t matter at all. What matters is not hanging upside down in some creepy ass cave.”

  Nordanski centered himself and took several deep breaths. He closed his eyes, said a prayer to the Eight Million Gods, then slowly opened his eyes and observed the cave anew.