Harper's Ten: Prequel to the Fractured Space Series

by J G Cressey

  “What about you?” Cal asked.

  “I think I’ve broken my arm…maybe some fingers too.”

  Cal bent down to look at the injury. It probably hurt like hell, but there simply wasn’t time to do much about it. “Are your legs okay?”

  Her face a mask of barely controlled agony, Campbell nodded.

  “Okay. We need to get the hell out of this death trap. Corporal, secure Campbell’s arm while I check on the others. Then, pick up Ebner. You steady enough to carry him?”

  “Sure; there’s not a lot to him,” Franco replied confidently.

  “Good.” Cal turned and was about to move toward the next blue light when Campbell caused him to stop mid-step.

  “I trust you, Lieutenant.”

  Cal turned back to face her. She’d climbed to her feet. Her face was pale and full of anguish, but her tone was sincere.

  “I trust you to get us to that rescue ship…all of us.” Her voice was remarkably steady. “And I’m truly thankful that you’re here.”

  Cal nodded, her simple statement seeming to revitalize some of his strength. “I appreciate that. Just stay strong for a little longer. We’re almost there.”

  Poots was attempting to get to her feet when Cal reached her.

  “Busted my wrist and my damn ankle on the other leg. You believe my luck?”

  Cal grabbed hold of her and helped haul her up. “That all that’s wrong with you?”

  “Few bumps and scrapes,” she replied. Her voice was calm, but it was clear she was struggling to conceal her pain.

  “Then I’d say your luck’s holding out,” Cal said as he helped to steady her. “Franco’s back there seeing to Campbell and Ebner. Stay put. I need to check on Becker and Christie.”

  “No need.”

  The voice was Becker’s. Cal looked up to see her emerge into the blue light.

  “I was just coming to check on you,” she said. Christie was by her side—a wide-eyed, ghostly waif swaying gently in the dark. Both appeared miraculously unhurt. “You mind spotting me a fresh glow-tube?” Becker said almost casually. “Seems I mislaid mine.”

  Cal tossed her his spare.

  “Jesus, Sarge,” Poots muttered. “How the hell is it that we look like we’ve been rolled through hell and you look like you’ve just been for a quick jog in the park?”

  Becker shrugged. “Managed to jam us under a support strut before it got too manic. Made for quite a painless ride.”

  “Right, so the idea is to jam your entire body under it rather than just your foot,” Poots said as she leaned heavily on Cal and painfully adjusted her stance. “How I wish I was as smart as you.”

  “Perhaps one day, Private,” Becker replied, managing a brief smile.

  “Talking of smart,” Cal said, getting a good grip on Poots’ armor before shining his glow-tube back toward Franco. “Let’s get the hell out of here and onto that damn ship.”

  The statement was accompanied perfectly by the soft rumble of approaching engines.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Here comes another.” Poots fired a single shot from the old scavenger pistol that she’d reclaimed from Franco. “This one’s bigger,” she said as two more shots rang out.

  Cal didn’t look back at the snake she was referring to. What would be the point? It wasn’t like he could scare it to death with a hard look. Instead, he continued to drag her over a series of twisted bulkheads that were too mangled to carry her over. It was her job to cover their backs while he did his best to haul both their asses to the outside world. Ahead of him, Franco was lifting Ebner back onto his shoulders, having already negotiated the bulkheads. The older man was still unconscious. Thankfully, Christie was managing under her own steam while Becker led the way, spear in hand. Already, the weapon was dripping with blue blood, but fortunately, none of the attacking snakes so far had been that large. Campbell followed, clearly struggling with her injured arm. The pain was exacerbating her exhaustion, but Christie stayed close by her side. It might have been a trick of the dim light, but Cal could have sworn he’d seen the girl actively helping her older colleague.

  Cal was certain they were nearing the end of the ruined structure. Unfortunately, the end in question had turned out to be a mangled network of upended grating, compressed metal, and torn cables. Gusts of cool air teased their perspiring faces as they pushed forward, the rumbling sound of the circling ship outside encouraging every step. Now and again, Cal heard the rail blasters hammering out rounds, then the engines would fade away only to return a few minutes later. It seemed the rescuers weren’t being left in peace, and he suspected that they were repeatedly attempting to lure the larger beasts away.

  Another single shot went off behind Cal’s back then a couple of sharp clicks.

  “Shit… Gun’s run dry.”

  Cal cursed but didn’t pause in his efforts.

  Ahead of them, Franco stopped and looked back.

  “Don’t wait for us, Corporal. Get the others out,” Cal shouted as he shoved aside a tangle of hanging cables and climbed onto the last of the smashed bulkheads. “Forget the gun,” he said to Poots as he reached down to get a better hold of her. “We’re almost there.”

  “I’m not sure almost is going to cut it.”

  Cal heard her unsheathe her knife as he dragged her up, his arms exhausted and burning under the strain. It seemed adrenaline could only sustain a body for so long.

  “Oh Christ—”

  This time, the urgency in Poots’ tone couldn’t be ignored. Letting go of her, Cal reached for his own knife just as a large snake—its body twice as long as he was tall—smashed into the private’s legs. The creature’s thick head was only a few inches from her face when she brought her knife up. Holding it horizontally, the long blade ended up in the beast’s jaws. Despite the immediate damage and deluge of dark blue blood, the snake was still determined to drive forward its attack.

  Cal brought the point of his knife down hard just behind the creature’s head. The strike did its job, and moving as quickly as he could, he heaved the dead weight off her. Poots was breathing hard, sucking in air through gritted teeth. She was incredibly tough, but her pain was getting the better of her.

  “Get your ass out of here, Lieutenant.” Her words were labored.

  “Shut the hell up, Private,” Cal replied as he turned to assess the mangled tunnel ahead. “And keep your eyes peeled for more of them.”

  “Goddamn it, Cal, I mean it. My legs are fucked,” Poots replied angrily. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

  Cal looked back sharply to see that the private was grasping the last chem-bomb tightly in both hands. There were tears in her eyes, and she was trembling. The pin was already pulled.

  “They’re closing in,” she said, her voice raw. “There’s too many of them. I’ll buy you some time.”

  Cal didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and forcefully started to prize open her fingers. Within seconds, he had the bomb out of her grip and was tossing it in the direction they’d come. In its place, he quickly pushed her abandoned knife. “We’re getting the hell out of here, right now, both of us.”

  Poots only stopped protesting once Cal had pulled her up over his shoulder. Dropping off the smashed bulkhead, he pressed on, a new burst of adrenaline doing its best to enable a reckless pace in the dim, blue light. Seconds later, the darkness wasn’t a problem. The chem-bomb ignited like a bright, orange flare, creating a harsh pattern of jagged black shadows ahead that flickered in a way that seemed to beckon him forward.

  Cal resisted the urge to look back. The heat in their wake would protect them to an extent, but snakes were finding their way into the wreckage from countless small breaches—a fact quickly confirmed as a little beast dropped on them from above and latched onto his right arm. The creature instantly began to gnaw at his armor. Poots bashed at it with the butt of her knife, and moments later, it was coiled on the floor. More came at them from further down the passage. With no chance of ou
tmaneuvering them all, Cal brought his boot down hard on one of their backs and did his best not to lose his stride. The impact felt damaging. But the creature was far from deterred and somehow managed to wrap part of its body around his ankle. The snake wasn’t large enough to bring him down, but its weight slowed him. Poots slashed at it, but her reach was insufficient, her knife clashing ineffectively against his armored thigh.

  “Lieutenant, over here. We’re out.”

  The shout came from Franco. Cal couldn’t see him, but he had a good idea where the call had come from. Altering his direction, he stumbled on some loosened grating and almost went down. His tired legs were barely fit to hold his own weight let alone Poots’ as well. He could see movement all around, seeming to fill his peripheral vision—long, pale smudges closing in under the fading, orange light. He didn’t look at them, not even a flick of the eyes. Afraid of the consequences if he lost his focus, he just surged on toward Franco’s voice.

  “Here, over here.”

  Twisting his body slightly to protect Poots’ head, Cal barreled his way through a mass of service tubing that hung limply to his right. The tubing gave way far more easily than he’d anticipated, and his extra momentum sent them crashing toward the floor. Before he hit the deck, however, Cal glimpsed Franco leaning through a tear partway up the wall, his arms reaching, waiting to pull them to the outside world.

  A snake snapped at Cal’s face as he pushed himself to his feet. He bashed it away with a savage swing of his arm. His heart was thumping hard, a new reserve of adrenaline surging through his veins. He suddenly felt like an overcharged machine, all thoughts pushed aside, only instinct left. The sound of rail gun fire was loud now. They were close. Ignoring the snake wrapped around his leg, which was relentless in its efforts to get its teeth into him, he righted himself and moved to get a fresh hold on Poots. She looked barely conscious. Another snake was slithering over her shoulder. He took a swing at it and succeeded in knocking it aside. Then, he yanked the private off the floor, and together, they half stumbled, half fell over to Franco. Fortunately, the rupture that the corporal was leaning through was only chest high and was wide enough for the flashing gunfire outside to make a silhouette of him before it spilled past to invade the darkness.

  Without hesitation, Franco grabbed Poots and pulled her roughly through the gap, speed taking priority over care. Cal was set to follow when a sharp pain lanced his side; his aggressive passenger had found a gap in his armor and was taking full advantage. Gritting his teeth, he seized the snake with one hand and unsheathed his knife with the other. The blade put a quick end to the attack and instantly diminished the pain. But the relief was barely realized before he found himself being tugged violently to the ground. In a desperate fury, he slashed out with the knife, not even fully comprehending where the new attack was coming from. The weapon’s edge met flesh, but his vision had become a muddled mosaic of scales and teeth, confusingly illuminated by the flashing gunfire above his head.

  Tearing his knife free, Cal thrust it down again. The snakes were small, but they were fast swamping his legs. He kicked at them, trying to match their ferocity. There was another shout from Franco…also Becker. As he desperately fought to free himself from the swarming beasts, he became aware of reaching hands grasping his arms and shoulders. He kicked as best as he could to get his legs free, but it felt as though they were immersed in quicksand. The hands grasping him pulled hard, but the collective weight of the snakes had become too great, and the efforts seemed futile. Then, a spear came down over his head only to be drawn back and thrust again…and again. But it was only one blade against what seemed like hundreds of attackers. Soon, they were coiling around his torso, then his chest. Anger overwhelming any fear, Cal continued to fight with everything he had, even resorting to biting one of the beasts that attempted to coil around his neck.

  Then something happened—something nothing short of a miracle.

  The snakes withdrew, inexplicably uncoiling from him to rapidly disappear back into the darkness of the structure. Before he had much chance to question the strange development, the grasping hands hauled him up toward the gap. Then, he was outside—pulled from one chaotic tumult into another. There was a brief, clumsy fall before he hit soft mud. A number of small snakes came with him, but most were dead, and those that weren’t quickly slithered away.

  “What the hell?” Franco shouted, sounding confused.

  Cal shook his head and blinked his eyes. Rain was lashing, cold and sharp in the blustery wind. The sky above was ablaze, and the gunfire was loud. It was that familiar din of war and destruction, but right now, it sounded more like a blessing—rail blasters, pulse rifles, and then the wholly welcome sound of a pressure grenade.

  Climbing to his feet, Cal saw Becker, spear in hand, climbing up the side of the ruined structure’s exterior to get a better vantage point. Turning about, he swept his eyes over the chaos, quickly trying to give it some order. The ship was close by, hovering near to the ground, but the pilot seemed reluctant to land and was actively moving further away from them. The hover was standard procedure when the threat level was high. Taking off took time—only seconds, but often, seconds was too long. Cal could see soldiers ready and waiting through the ship’s open side hatch. Two were already on the ground, outfitted in full armor and large, ten-click pulse rifles pulled in hard against their shoulders. They were lit up brighter than day under the ship’s thrusters and were probably regretting the fact they’d jumped out early. There were dead snakes everywhere, their corpses a grisly mess, but the number of live beasts seemed amazingly few and, just like those in the structure, they were fast retreating. At first, Cal thought the heat from the engines was causing them to flee, but then he suspected something else—the same something that was suddenly dissuading the pilot from landing.

  Quickly, Cal turned back to his own people. Ebner was now conscious, slumped in the mud at the base of the mangled structure. Christie and Campbell were next to him, thankfully both on their feet. Poots was in a similar position to Ebner, but her knife was still tight in her grip. He looked back to Franco, who was keeping an eye on the hole through which they’d come, ready to deal with the appearance of any snakes. But the hole remained a dark void, the beasts seeming reluctant to emerge.

  “Forget the hole, Corporal; they’re not coming out,” Cal shouted. He was starting to understand the nature of these beasts—and their hierarchical instincts. Whether due to fear or some sort of respect, the smaller snakes seemed to retreat when their much larger kin came close. “There’s a big bastard closing in on the other side of the structure. Get ready to carry Ebner.”

  Franco nodded and moved without hesitation.

  Cal looked up to see Becker making her way back down to them. She was moving fast.

  “How close is it, Sergeant?”

  “Too close,” Becker yelled as she leaped off the structure to land semi-gracefully by his side. “We’ve gotta move. Now.” She moved to grab hold of Christie.

  Cal knew Becker wasn’t one for dramatics. The fact that she hadn’t taken the time to brief him on the exact proximity, speed, and location of the beast meant they were in even more trouble than usual. Running over to Poots, he again hauled her up and over his shoulders just as Franco was doing with Ebner.

  “Everyone run,” Becker shouted as she made a beeline out into the open. She was forcefully dragging Christie along while Campbell stumbled close behind. Although his rational mind was screaming at him to stay close to the structure, Cal trusted Becker implicitly and on this occasion ignored his instincts. The fact she was heading in the direction of the two soldiers and their ten-click pulse rifles certainly didn’t hurt her cause.

  As they ran, the rescue ship flew directly over their heads, the combination of its thrusters and another eruption from its rail blasters a deafening roar. But even that noise wasn’t enough to drown out the massive boom that sounded close behind them.

  “What’s going on, Private?” Cal shout
ed to Poots as he continued to run.

  “Something hit the structure,” Poots replied, her voice strained. “Something big as hell. Don’t stop.”

  But moments later, Cal did stop—not by choice but as a result of colliding with Franco, who’d skidded to a halt in front of him. In fact, all of them had stopped. The two soldiers were running out of the darkness toward them, yelling something unintelligible as they tried their best to shoot over their shoulders without breaking pace. Something huge was looming out of the wet, windswept night behind them, its ghostly scales increasingly brighter under the flashing discharges from their pulse rifles. It was one of the two monstrous beasts they’d seen emerge from the lake earlier in the night. And there was no doubt in Cal’s mind that the rescue ship was busily occupying its twin that had smashed into the other side of the structure.

  Cal didn’t need to look back to know that the ship wasn’t about to come to their aid; its railblasters were going ten to the dozen and were becoming more distant as they attempted to deal with the other huge snake. He briefly wondered whether the two snakes coming at them from opposite directions was a coincidence. Or was it a tactical maneuver that suggested intelligence? Either way, it didn’t really matter now. He lowered Poots to the ground and ordered Franco to do the same with Ebner. Bitterly, he realized there was no running from this. There wasn’t much chance of a fight either, but the least they could do was face their enemy. Never one for defeat, Becker moved forward a couple of steps, spear held tight. Cal almost moved to stop Christie as she shuffled forward to join her, but the girl had pulled something from her torn clothing that caused him to stop—one last chem-bomb, which she held out almost tenderly on her open palm. Becker’s look of surprise as she scooped the offering out of the girl’s hand mirrored Cal’s own. The girl must have been concealing the little bomb since before they’d even arrived, probably having swiped it during Billy’s drug-addled watch. Perhaps she’d been more aware than they’d known, just paralyzed by fear. But now, it seemed that after all they’d been through, that fear had run dry.