The creature outside blinked again, its eyes closing for a little longer this time.
On the third long blink, its eyes closed completely, its legs folded beneath it, and it fell to the ground with a thud.
“Go, go, go, go, go,” Reyes shouted at Patel.
Chapter 2
Four days ago. Zero dead.
Reyes looked across at Patel and saw him chewing his bottom lip. Only a routine trip to the Crimson Destroyer, but he’d told her before they boarded that he hated any kind of flying—not the best phobia for a Space Marine.
On a bench, sandwiched between Jones and Campbell, Reyes twisted but could do little to find any comfort. At five feet and two inches, the two brutes damn near crushed the life out of her with their hulking frames. They forced her shoulders to her ears and she kept drawing deep breaths to fill her squashed lungs.
Not that it mattered if Reyes felt uncomfortable. Excuse me, I need a bit more space wouldn’t get her very far. Keep her head down and speak when spoken to. Rookies were worse than cockroaches and she needed to learn her place. If she watched and took everything in, she’d be ready when they needed her. Prove to them what she could do by showing them and then they’d trust her, or at least allow her to speak.
The ship shook and shuddered, shifting the two men even tighter against her. Nothing more than the standard turbulence of passing through different atmospheres. Another look at Patel and Reyes saw him muttering beneath his breath. His usually dark skin had turned waxy white.
After she’d twisted free of the two brutes, Reyes looked out of the front window of the shuttle at the planet below them. Rocky, dusty, and barren. For a moment, she forgot herself and turned to Jones, the platoon sergeant. “What planet are we passing over?”
Jones had eyes so dark they could suck the light from a room. When he levelled them on her, it sucked the question from her memory and the air from her lungs. A shake of her head and she dropped her gaze to the shuttle’s metal deck. She needed to keep her mouth shut.
Another eyeball-rattling shudder earthquaked through the small shuttle. A look at the others and Reyes saw stony expressions on every face save for Patel’s. They looked pissed off about how tightly they’d been packed into the small vessel, but none of them seemed bothered about the turbulence. A strong gust would upset the small ship’s flight. They weren’t nervous, so she didn’t need to be. It would serve her well to ignore Patel until they reached the Crimson Destroyer.
The vessel then dropped by a few metres and Patel yelped. His pale complexion reddened at the attention from the others.
Were Reyes’ arms not pinned to her sides, she would have thrust them out at the very least. Her tight position had saved her the embarrassment Patel clearly felt.
When Reyes looked at the others, she saw the stoic scowls had vanished on a few of the Commandos’ faces. More anxious than before, several of them leaned forward and looked at the dusty planet outside. Jones and Campbell didn’t budge. They didn’t do worry.
Questions queued up in Reyes’ mind, but she bit her tongue. What’s going on? Is everything okay? Is this normal? The rookie didn’t get to ask questions. Besides, if they were in trouble, her asking about it wouldn’t help in any way. When she looked at the WO, he scowled at her. She definitely shouldn’t ask any questions.
The next shudder rattled for a good five seconds, a bass tone vibrating through the steel hull of the ship. It forced Reyes’ teeth to chatter and pressed Jones and Campbell tighter against her. They damn near crushed the air from her lungs, so she twisted against the press of their two large forms. Jones tutted at her movement. Screw him! She reached around and grabbed her seatbelt, strapping in before she made herself as small as possible again. When she looked at the Commandos opposite, several of them did the same.
The WO stood up at the back of the ship and walked to the open cockpit. Because of the swaying shuttle, he held the handrail for support. The rest of the Commandos all moved around, grateful for the extra few inches of space. Jones and Campbell didn’t budge.
“McTavish!” the WO said. “What’s happening?”
Silence swept through the back of the shuttle as if everyone held their breaths. They were quiet enough to hear every syllable of McTavish’s reedy reply. “I’m not sure.”
The WO stayed at the front of the ship and looked through the windscreen. A glance around and Reyes saw every Marine doing the same, even Jones and Campbell. The entire front of the shuttle was made from reinforced glass. They couldn’t ignore the planet below them even if they’d wanted to.
The sun on the planet shone so bright, Reyes squinted when they changed course to head straight at it. It lit the shuttle up like a spotlight, and even the WO shielded his eyes.
A desert waste of rock and sand stretched out beneath them. It looked barren and uninhabited. But looks could be deceiving. Just because it wouldn’t be able to support human life didn’t mean it couldn’t support other beings.
The WO had been silent for a few seconds, his thick frame wound tight. When he shouted, Reyes jumped. “How can you not know what’s going on? This is supposed to be our shuttle ride home. A simple trip like we’ve done a thousand times before. You’re supposed to be the pilot.”
Many of the Commandos watched McTavish and the WO. When Reyes looked at Jones, he continued to glare at her. She’d better not say anything stupid.
Then the lights in the ship blinked out as the power failed. Patel gasped. The bright glare through the windscreen kept Reyes fully informed of the concern around her. Anxious scowls sat on nearly every face.
When the hum of the engine stopped, Reyes’ stomach lurched. For the briefest moment, they glided. Weightless. Powerless.
The WO shouted again. “What the hell’s going on, McTavish?”
Sweat lifted beneath Reyes’ collar, her mouth dried, and she felt her rapid heart rate as she continued to squint against the glare of the sun. She didn’t speak. None of them spoke.
A sound pulsed through the ship. A deep whoom. Red bulbs blinked on in the back of the shuttle—the glow of emergency lighting.
Then the cockpit lit up, and the hum of the engines started again. Reyes relaxed a little, but the WO didn’t seem convinced.
“Everyone strap in,” he called back to the troops. “We might lose power again.”
Even while he strapped in, Jones glared at Reyes. Rookies were bad luck. He looked at her like she’d caused the power failure.
Maybe she shouldn’t have said it, but Reyes leaned forward anyway. “WO, I think you should strap in too.”
The silence choked her, turning the dryness in her throat arid and locking nausea in her stomach.
The WO’s steps slammed down against the metal deck when he stormed over. He leaned into Reyes’ face, so close she could smell the sweat on his skin and see the red veins in his eyeballs. When he shouted, his hot breath damn near blew her hair back. “Don’t tell me what to do, rookie. Just focus on you, yeah? You do that and maybe you’ll get through this without getting us all killed protecting your arse.”
Heat rose beneath Reyes’ skin, flushing her face and pushing more sweat out. For the briefest moment, her eyes itched with tears. But she forced them back with a deep breath. She wouldn’t cry. No way. She’d spent years learning how to stifle what seemed to be her natural reaction to stress. She couldn’t look weak in front of them.
For the first time since she’d known him, Jones smiled at her. The white glow of his broad grin taunted her. She balled her fists, clenched her jaw, and just as she opened her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, the ship lurched again. It forced a “Shit!” from Henry, their sergeant.
A dark scowl from the WO but nothing more. Everyone else remained silent.
The next drop lifted Reyes’ already turning stomach into her throat. She watched the WO stumble with the ship’s movement. Close to retirement, he’d grown too old for this shit. The younger version of him would have ridden the sudden drop like a cowboy a
t a rodeo.
Needle-like rocks protruded from the ground. Every passing second dropped them closer to them. The engines and lights might have come back on, but the shuttle seemed unable to pull up. McTavish’s hands flicked switches and pressed buttons so quickly, they turned into a blur.
When McTavish threw the ship to one side, the WO stumbled and crashed against the opposite wall.
Clearly unable to pull up, McTavish slalomed through the rocks, avoiding a collision more narrowly with each twist.
The WO reached up for the handrail in the gangway, gripped hard, and rode out the next sudden turn. The muscles in his thick arms bulged from holding himself upright.
Pale faces watched on, some of the Commandos tight-lipped, some looking like they had screams they wanted to let loose. Although, the only sound in the vessel came from the pulsed warnings from several devices on the dashboard.
Reyes saw it from a mile away, and McTavish probably did too. The next needle-like rock grew larger through the front window. Although the pilot tried to manoeuvre the ship, it continued straight for it. He shook the flight stick and called back, “We’re going down.”
A second later, a loud bang sounded out, sending a jolt snapping through the ship.
They went into a spin as a high-pitched whine rang through the vessel.
The yawn of ripping metal vibrated through the steel bench.
Jones and Campbell crushed Reyes as the ship spun out of control.
Henry shouted, “I didn’t see me going out like this.”
The ship spiralled faster and faster.
Patel screamed.
In the chaos of beeps, flashing lights, and glaring sun, Reyes saw the WO lose his grip on the rail. The g-force threw him across the shuttle as if his hulking frame weighed nothing.
Chapter 3
Now. Eleven dead.
After a glance at the slouched WO, Reyes turned to watch the seven Commandos file out of the shuttle. The beat of their boots hammered a tattoo against the steel floor. Patel remained on the door handle. He might have had two minutes, but he looked ready to shut the door the moment she demanded it. After she’d looked at him for a couple of seconds, she nodded and stepped outside.
The heat damn near curled the leather on Reyes’ boots. It pulled sweat from her pores. Her dry throat pinched. The taste of sand lay on her tongue. It had been too long since she’d tasted the cool and soothing wash of water.
The sun shone into Reyes’ eyes. She squinted to watch her seven brothers and sisters run to their ten dead teammates. Adoteng had been buried, so they’d forget about that torch. Simpson, Austin, and Federichi had to get torches from two bodies. The others had just one each.
Two minutes didn’t give them time for sentimentality. They’d discussed it and Reyes made sure no one would try anything stupid. Their lives came first. Take the torches and run despite the desire to retrieve a dead teammate. No burials. No bringing teammates back to the shuttle.
Reyes looked down at the creature who’d waited by the door only a few seconds previously. Where it had stared in at her, its red eye on fire with hatred, it now lay as a discarded pile of rocks. Had she not seen the creatures change in front of her eyes, she wouldn’t have guessed a vicious beast lay concealed within the mound. Yellow and craggy, the formation of it took on its bear-like shape, but to an untrained eye, it looked like no more than rocks.
A broader view of the scorched wasteland now she stood outside the shuttle, Reyes counted the beasts. Fourteen in total. Fourteen fast and violent killing machines ready to rip heads from bodies just for the fun of it. Ready to spring to life when the timer stopped. That was if they even had two minutes. They’d put a lot on her theory and hadn’t had enough time to test it.
Reyes raised her gun and continued to watch the beast down the barrel of it. No point in shooting it in its current state. The blast would bounce off and it could wake up. Although, when she’d shot one previously, it hadn’t woken up. Not that she’d risk it with most of their team outside.
The temperature dropped when Reyes stepped back into the ship. It had felt like a sauna before, but now it offered some relief compared to the scorch outside. She glanced up at the timer, aware of the WO’s hard and laboured breaths as he sat on the bench. Just fifteen seconds had passed.
“You know the lives of this entire platoon rest on you, right?” the WO said.
“Of course,” Reyes replied. “Someone’s got to take charge though, haven’t they?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re hardly fit to do it.”
The WO drew a breath to respond but Reyes cut him off. “Let me focus on them, yeah? We haven’t got much time.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she turned to the Commandos in the cove. A couple of them had reached their targets already, but all of them moved slowly. In the heat and already dehydrated, none of them had speed on their side.
Several rasping breaths and the WO finally got his words out. “You need to learn your place, girl.”
There were times when she wanted to turn the gun on him. Just to shut him up. Of course she wouldn’t shoot him. It was just that sometimes the ‘tough love’ got too tough.
Then Reyes looked at the grizzled man. The strongest man she’d ever known and he’d had to take a back seat. Fists like rocks. A square jaw. As wide as he was tall. Even now, as he sat there holding the septic wound on his leg, he still exuded power and control even though he probably didn’t feel like he did.
The WO shifted in his seat and winced again. They needed to get his wound looked at before the infection poisoned him.
After a deep breath, Reyes stared out at the Commandos again. Federichi hadn’t gone for Jones’ body yet. She’d retrieved her first torch, and now she shouted orders at the others to make sure they were all okay. But with Jones over one hundred and fifty metres from the shuttle, she needed to get a move on or she wouldn’t get to him and back in time.
Reyes looked down at the large yellow rock formation. She addressed the WO again. Despite everything, she still sought his approval. “I need to be ready to shoot this thing when it reanimates. If it’s the only one standing between them and the ship, me shooting it will make the world of difference.”
A shake of his head and the WO broke into a coughing fit. “You know,” he said when he’d recovered, “if I’d had my way, you wouldn’t have even been allowed on the shuttle ride. Rookies make a picnic dangerous. Besides, I hate having them with me. I’m too old to train them.”
Reyes tugged on her collar, sweat itching where the fabric made contact with her skin. It had been days since she’d had a shower. She stank. They all stank.
Several more of the Commandos arrived at their assigned targets and dropped down next to them to remove their torches. Federichi continued to direct them. Even with the distance separating them and the heat haze shimmering in the air, Reyes saw their struggles. The heavy stares they levelled on their fallen brothers and sisters. Sadness, desperation, exhaustion, hopelessness. Half of them looked like they’d given up already. How the hell would they get off this planet?
“I wouldn’t have even let you enrol,” the WO continued.
Reyes clenched her jaw and kept her back turned on him. She watched Federichi. Because she had to run the farthest, she’d best make her move towards Jones soon. The responsibility to take the hardest job had to fall to her, especially with Peacock in his current state. Although, to be fair to him, he looked on course to get his torch. Federichi needed to focus on herself.
The WO went for Reyes again. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing standing by that door. Federichi can run a team a hell of a lot better than you can. She doesn’t need your help. None of them do.”
A shake of her head and Reyes drew another deep sigh. He clearly felt vulnerable in his current state. The only way she’d remain alert enough to help the others would be to ignore him completely. She continued to squint as she looked out at the desert: the dusty yellow
ground, the high needle-like rocks, the Commandos removing torches from the fallen. They were doing okay. If they all focused, the plan should work.
“In fact, I’d imagine your jabbering is actually a hinderance to them.”
Tension wound through Reyes’ upper body and she squeezed her gun, her index finger hovering over the trigger. She pointed it down at the pile of rocks by the door and continued to ignore the WO. She couldn’t let him get to her.
When Reyes saw Simpson at the two Commandos assigned to her, she watched her pick up one of their guns. “Simpson!” she shouted, her voice carrying on the sandy wind across the dry wasteland.
When Simpson looked up, Reyes threw her arms in the air. “What the hell are you doing? Just torches. Guns are useless.”
Heavy breaths from where she shouted, Reyes relaxed a little more at having released some of her tension. She looked back at the WO and scowled at him, her jaw clenched. If he pushed her, she’d knock his fucking head off, consequences be damned.
For the first time, the WO stayed quiet. The slightest glimpse of a smile lifted one side of his mouth.
A look at the timer and Reyes watched the next few seconds tick away. She returned her focus to her team out in the scorching desert and shouted, “Seventy-five seconds left. Speed it up!”
Chapter 4
Four days ago. Zero dead.
Reyes regained consciousness with a yell. Aches ran through her as if the pain came from a poison in her bloodstream. She opened her eyes slowly, a sharp headache swelling from a sore spot on her right temple. It felt like she’d been cracked with a sledgehammer.
God knew how long she’d blacked out for. As her vision cleared, she took in the reality of her surroundings. A shot of adrenaline kicked through her, forcing a gasp from her lungs. Every other Marine in the crashed shuttle lay still and lifeless.
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