by J G Cressey
Wasting no more time, Becker unceremoniously grabbed Christie around the waist and quickly swung across the gap with the dazed-looking girl clutched tightly to her side. Grabbing hold of the pair, Cal hurriedly pulled them to solid ground and swung the cord to Couter. The new recruit deftly caught it then looked back toward Franco. The corporal shook his head and frantically indicated for him to cross with a wave of his hand.
Come on. Cal clenched his jaw, his heart thudding. The young man’s willingness to put others first was admirable, but it wasn’t always helpful. He was going to have to learn to follow orders without question. “Swing over now, Private. That’s an order,” Cal said, keeping his voice as low as possible.
Without further hesitation, Couter turned back and obeyed. Within seconds of him reaching the other side, the structure shuddered again. Then, it began to shift, the resulting stresses on the metal screaming out like a thousand angry harpies.
His vision somewhat distorted by the vibrating floor beneath him, Cal readied the cord and looked over the gap to Franco. The corporal was grabbing the still-floored Durron by his collar and yanking him to his feet. “Move it, Corporal.”
Franco practically dragged Durron to the edge of the gap and looked up with an outstretched hand. Sorely tempted to order him to leave the scavenger behind, Cal carefully swung the cord over. The floor lurched again, almost causing Cal to tumble over the edge. He wobbled for a moment then took a generous step back. Whatever snake was trying to get at them, it seemed worryingly close and was stressing the already damaged structure to its limits.
Franco shoved the cord into the scavenger’s hands and, without giving him time to put his foot in the loop, roughly pushed him over the edge. The structure lurched again, even more violently this time. The sharp movement jolted Durron’s journey mid-swing to the point where it flung him off the cord. Fortunately—or perhaps not—the man’s forward motion was enough to send him the rest of the distance over the gap on a collision course with its jagged edge.
Unwilling to waste time observing whether Durron had fallen to his doom or was perhaps skewered on a jutting piece of sharp metal, Cal thrust out his spear in an attempt to hook the now weightless cord. He missed it by an inch, and the cord’s momentum rapidly slowed. Cal cursed, his mind reeling over solutions. But, looking over to Franco, he was reminded that the corporal wasn’t one to hang around or indeed miss an opportunity to save his own life. Having already backed up, Franco began sprinting toward the gap, his face more a mask of desperate determination than true confidence. Acutely aware that his Italian friend would never make the jump, Cal was relieved to see that he was instead aiming for the slowly swinging cord.
Cal found his own stomach lurching as Franco flung himself out over the gap. But the aim and timing proved true, the corporal’s hands closing around the lifeline with outstanding accuracy. His impressive velocity, however, was woefully overcooked. His legs whipping forward, Franco crossed the remainder of the gap at speed and barreled into Cal like a charging bull. The two of them crashed clumsily back into the passageway, their armor thudding loudly on the hard floor.
Quickly rolling to his feet, Cal saw that Durron had been awarded far more luck than he deserved and was still clinging onto life—quite literally. Somehow, he’d avoided being skewered, but only his face and arms were visible as he grasped the ragged edge of the ruptured floor. His expression was one of animalistic fear and desperation—a look that didn’t seem tempered by the fact that Couter was already kneeling before him in order to haul him up.
The structure let out a deep moan and seemed to sag as if the metal had taken on the consistency of rubber.
Then, the beast was on them.
No sooner had Couter pulled Durron to relative safety than the snake’s head smashed its way through the gap and slammed into the ceiling with terrifying force. It was a monster that made the previous creatures seem small in comparison. The impact of its sudden attack knocked every one of them cleanly off their feet. Then, metal tore and buckled as the snake withdrew its wide, blunt head only to ram it forward once again, bucking the sagging structure as if a bomb had gone off. Couter and Durron tried to back away from the turmoil, but the floor beneath them had become twisted like the roots of some ancient, metallic tree.
Feeling like a bug caught inside a child’s rattle, Cal shouted at those behind him to retreat further into the tunnel before lunging forward to retrieve his spear, which had been torn from his grip when he’d hit the floor. The crude weapon’s shaft felt a pitiful reassurance as he looked toward the snake. The beast was slamming its head from side to side, its jaws snapping in furious determination to sink rows of teeth into something living. Couter was horrifyingly close to becoming that target. The private was almost on his feet, but instead of retreating, he was grasping at Durron’s arm, pulling the scavenger up from the contorted floor.
Managing to get his own feet more or less steady under him, Cal hefted his spear into a horizontal position and launched it at the snake with all his might. The combination of the effort and the quaking floor brought him back to his knees. At this range, he could hardly miss the huge target no matter how violently it thrashed about. But to his dismay, the spear deflected off the creature’s head like a blunt stick hitting an armored tank. Cal grimaced. He’d already suspected that the larger—and presumably older—the snake, the tougher its scales, and this was perhaps proof. At least the beast’s immense size was preventing it from fully squeezing its way into the structure.
“Move, Couter,” Cal shouted as he surged back to his feet. The private had succeeded in pulling Durron up and was urging him forward. But gratitude wasn’t on the scavenger’s mind—a fact made clear by the look on his face. There was of course fear and desperation, but it was infused with a sadistic ruthlessness that turned Cal’s heart cold. He rushed toward them, but it was too late. Durron had a poisonous core that demanded self-preservation no matter what was required. The scavenger turned with a snarl and shoved Couter hard toward the snake. To say that the young private wasn’t expecting it would have been a gross understatement. He was so full of untainted goodness and sense of duty that he was blind to the ruthlessness that could arise even in those he was trying to protect. As Cal surged forward, Couter fell back, his expression more one of surprise than fear. The snake’s huge, thrashing head hit him with such force that his instantly limp body was smashed through the air, flying past Cal as if shot from a starship cannon.
The sight hit Cal like a bullet to the chest.
Feeling in a sudden daze, he stumbled clumsily back from the raging snake, and as he moved, came to the realization that Durron’s throat was tight in his grasp. He had no memory of seizing the man, his body seemingly having acted without conscious thought. Cursing and forcing himself out of his stupor, he threw the choking scavenger aside then turned and ran to Couter’s prone form. Franco was already there, his face grim. The private’s armor was crushed down one side, blood already seeping out. Without a word, Franco carefully helped him drag Couter further from the raging snake before kneeling by his side to assess the damage.
“Campbell, I need your help,” Cal shouted without looking up. “Sergeant, find that hatch, get it open, and get that bloody rescue ship over here. Attract their attention with a chem-bomb if need be. We’re getting the hell out of here. All of us.”
Cal had barely finished shouting the order when he heard the familiar thrum of the ship’s approaching engines and the distinctive din of the rail blaster. About fucking time. He turned to see bright, orange flashes bursting up through the gap in the floor, illuminating the snake’s glassy scales. Some of the gunfire tore through the structure to thud into the beast’s body. Seconds later, the snake was gone, its head violently wrenched from the gap as it went to face the threat.
“You hear that, Couter?” Cal said, turning back to look at his young recruit. “The ship’s—” His words suddenly failed him, the expression on Couter’s face extinguishing them in an in
stant. The young man’s eyes were full of confusion and fear. But there was also a glimmer of hope—hope that his commanding officer might somehow be able to fix him, to reveal some previously unseen trick and turn back the tide. The look was almost too much for Cal to bear, and he had to force himself to retain a steady gaze. He was aware of Campbell by his side, but no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew that there was no fixing this. Couter was already as pale as a ghost. Too much blood was leaking through the grating, and his armor was far too damaged to remove. It was done. Death would close in fast, and there’d be no fighting or denying it.
The world seemed to go quiet as Cal gently put a comforting hand on the side of his young friend’s face. “You did well, kid. You did really well.”
Couter continued to look at him, managing only very slight movements of his eyes. There were no last words, no final requests like those seen in the holo-drome movies or acted out in the pleasure pod games. His young friend simply stared at him, his expression conveying infinitely more in only a few seconds than limitless words ever could. Cal felt guilt closing in on him like a merciless, all-consuming vice. No matter how much he wanted to blame Captain Decker or Durron or even this planet and the snakes, in the end, it had been largely his decisions that had brought them to this point in time, his actions that guided them all but in the end failed them. He stared at Couter’s face—the youthful, fearful visage—and watched as unfulfilled hopes and dreams slowly leaked away. Cal did his best to remain calm…composed. He owed his recruit that much. But the vice was tightening, fast threatening to overwhelm him and throw his mind into turmoil.
Then, something changed, like a small light that flickered to life within his darkening awareness. Couter’s eyes had begun to glaze over, but his terrible look of fear seemed to melt away and was replaced by something Cal couldn’t name—just a glimpse of something that seemed beyond the comprehension of the living, a sort of peaceful wonderment. Cal stared at him entranced and wondered where his young friend was in that moment? What was he experiencing?
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the strange moment was gone, closed off to the mortal world to leave nothing but a broken body and lifeless eyes in its wake.
Cal felt Campbell’s hand on his shoulder. Things were being said to him, shouted even, but he was finding it hard to understand the words and even harder to tear his eyes from his dead, young friend. The floor of the passageway was still shuddering beneath him with varying degrees of intensity, and blasts of gunfire still lit up the dark and reverberated through the walls. But everything felt strangely muted—or perhaps drowned out by the war that had started up within his mind. He felt as though he was being torn in two by sorrow and rage, the two emotions seeming worlds apart yet eminently coupled.
Finally, he broke his gaze from Couter’s body and looked toward Durron. The sight of the man instantly sent a sickening coldness flooding though him. The scavenger was breathing hard, his eyes wide but calculating as they flitted between him and the rest of the group. Driven by pure impulse, Cal was on the man in the blink of an eye, slamming him against the wall of the passageway, his hand wrapped around his neck, gripping him mercilessly.
“Think what you’re doing, Lieutenant,” Durron said desperately, rasping the words through his constricted throat. “The rescue ship’s here…probably scanning your every move. If you—”
Whatever the man was going to say was forever silenced as Cal yanked him away from the wall, dragged him half a dozen steps toward the ruptured hole, then flung him headfirst into the open air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Durron’s scream was quickly stolen away by the long fall.
Cal stood for a moment, breathing hard. Then, feeling his rage start to ebb, he turned back to the others. All eyes were on him. None of them appeared disapproving. Indeed, Becker and Campbell wore looks of approval, even hints of an overdue satisfaction. Cal briefly wondered whether he’d ever regret killing the man, but he doubted it, and right now, he didn’t much care. What would their situation look like if he’d killed him earlier? Even in his current state, Cal knew that the thought was a dangerous one, and he pushed it away. His eyes flicked down to Couter’s body, but he didn’t let them linger. He felt as though something had broken inside him, torn apart with no chance of repair. He’d lost friends and comrades before but not like this. Not so many in such a short period of time. Not when they were all under his command.
He felt a numbness seeping into him, smothering the pain like a mental anesthesia administered by his subconscious. A natural intervention to help ensure focus and ultimately survival. He had to get the others out of here. He had to get them on that ship. I can’t lose any more. The thought echoed in his mind and coalesced with his anger.
He looked at Becker. “Sergeant, the hatch?”
She shook her head. “It’s jammed shut. The structure’s too twisted.”
Cal suspected as much; Becker wouldn’t have been idle if the hatch had been successfully opened. He could still hear the rescue ship kicking out rounds. It seemed like the snake wasn’t easily tamed. Perhaps the beast’s huge scales, which had deflected his spear so easily, were even holding out against the rail blasters. The structure was still protesting noisily under the weight of the creature, but Cal was encouraged by the fading din of the fight. At least it was being lured away from them.
He momentarily turned his eyes back to his dead recruit and forced himself to retain his steady resolve. Then, he moved back to the ruptured hole and studied the walls and the ceiling where the snake had inflicted its rage. There were plenty of holes and tears, but search as he might, he couldn’t see one that was large enough for them to climb through.
As he continued to look, he found his gaze snapping back up to his right. There was a tear in the top edge of the structure that was perhaps large enough. But why hadn’t he already seen it?
Suddenly, the tear grew larger, and the floor started to tip.
The structure was coming apart.
Cal almost cursed, but in the end, there simply wasn’t time.
“Go, go, go.” He turned as he shouted and did his best to negotiate the fast-pitching floor. Fortunately, the others had had similar reactions, their collective glow-tubes a bubble of blue, juddering light as they all fled into the darkness of the passageway.
Without slowing for a second, Cal grabbed hold of Poots, whose injured leg was causing her to fall behind. She didn’t protest but instead threw her arm over his shoulder, and soon, they managed a half-decent pace. Up ahead, Franco and Becker were practically dragging Ebner and Christie.
But then, the running stopped.
The supporting structure failed in its duty. The floor dropped out from beneath them like some kind of amusement park ride with a complete lack of restraints. Cal did his best to protect both his and Poots’ head with his armored arms as they hit the ceiling. That was the last action that he had any real control over for what seemed an eternity. He and the private were forcibly separated as the collapsing structure violently tipped further, throwing them into a tumble. Moments later, it lurched again but this time began to level off. His head spinning, Cal realized that the structure’s other end must have been ripped free. For a moment, it was relatively still, suspended by persistent support cables. Then, the cables began to tear, and a chaotic battle with gravity began. Fortunately, that battle held out, the threads of cables slowing the structure in a juddering decent until it crashed into the great, domed roof of the central hub.
There were a few seconds that came tantalizingly close to a still calm. But, ever the persistent adversary, gravity took hold again. Despite friction doing its best to oppose it, the structure began to slide down the domed roof, causing a metallic maelstrom that showed no mercy to those caught within. There were moments when Cal thought he’d managed to achieve a purchase on something solid, but those moments were soon torn from him as he was flung elsewhere. In the end, he decided it best to ball himself up, throw hi
s arms around his head, and wait for the structure to find the ground.
It took Cal a while to realize the chaos had stopped.
Lying completely still in the near dark, he eventually managed to gain a little more awareness and carefully began to uncoil his arms and legs. Thankfully, all four limbs obeyed, leaving him hopeful that none were broken. He wasn’t so sure about his skull. The way it was throbbing, he felt certain he must have cracked it open. His hands felt numb as he carefully ran them over his head, but there was enough feeling to confirm that, although he was covered in bumps and cuts, he was still mostly intact. Stiffly, he pulled his glow-tube from his shoulder and climbed to his feet. Peering into the dark, he tried to pinpoint the other blue lights.
“That you, sir?”
Cal recognized Franco’s voice. He was close by, and Cal stumbled over to him. “You in one piece, Corporal?”
“I have no frickin’ idea. But for the sake of getting the hell out of here, I’m gonna say yes.”
Cal could see a fair amount of blood on the corporal’s face, but he still seemed compos mentis. As he helped him to his feet, other voices rose up in the dark.
“Ebner’s hurt.” The voice was Campbell’s.
Cal and Franco made their way over to her as fast as their battered legs could carry them.
“He’s alive,” Campbell assured them without looking up. “But he’s seriously injured and out cold.”
