“Almost there, Gunny!”
* * *
A handful of Alpha Squad Sharks joined the fray and Tom had quickly commandeered a grenade launcher to get the upper hand. Some of the beasts were dead, collapsed across the clearing under plant chum and a milky white, pus-like substance that slimed the grass. An acrid, nauseating odour permeated the area, like burnt flesh and rotting bodies.
When Derick's all-clear came through, he raised the thick-barrelled weapon to his shoulder and aimed at what he'd named the king beast. Bigger than the others by a few feet, it was also twice as ugly. Dropping his cheek to the sight, Tom put the monster in the crosshairs and fired.
Firing two in quick succession, Tom dropped to one knee as the first grenade hit the ground just in front of the monster and the second plunged into its massive belly. They exploded within a second of each other, showering the entire vicinity in burning grass and dirt and the occasional wet schlack from a piece of meat hitting the ground.
With the 'king' dead, the remaining creatures shuffled into something resembling a retreat. “Hold your fire!” he ordered loudly. They could finish the beasties, but Tom wasn't so sure they had the right to. In the last century, hadn't humanity done enough damage? No longer was the rape of the natural world permissible for the sake of expediency and doing so felt just as dishonourable as shooting a fleeing creature in the back.
Turning his attention to the clearing, his mind began cataloguing the wet and burnt chunks of meat before Tom even realized it. As a result, he stared at one particular piece for a full moment before realizing he was staring at a human hand. He turned away in disgust, aware they would have to collect the remains eventually and afford the victims a decent burial. After they identified whether the remains belonged to Macon or Edwards.
Only when he turned away and found the ruined body of PFC Tonie Edwards did he realize identification would be fairly easy, after all. She had both hands so the grisly question of who the stray hand belonged to answered itself.
“I'm here!!”
Maya Sanjay burst through the underbrush, coming to a halt beside Tom. Aware of her relationship with Macon, he cast a hasty look at the disembodied hand and was relieved to see no obvious signs of Macon's body. “Mayday, see to Richards!” he ordered, pointing to where Derick knelt over the corporal.
When she didn't see Colin, Maya shut out the facts and hurried to her friend's side. Dropping to her knees, she yanked the quick release latch on her pack and dumped it beside her to dig into it. “We've got to stop the bleeding on that leg,” she said quickly, no trace of the playful schoolgirl with the crass humour from earlier. Coming up with two large, triangular gauze pads, she slapped it over the Gunny's hand and nodded for him to pull back. When he did, Maya put the second pad on top of the first.
A few minutes later, after sorting out the Sharks and setting a watch in the clearing, Tom approached the group with Jag. Derick was cradling Ren's head in his lap, with one hand cupped under her chin and the other gently swiping blood from an oozing cut on her cheek. Whether his big friend wanted to admit it, the Gunny's crush on the Corporal was just as big as the one she had for him.
Before the Exodus, had he learned of the attraction between the two, he might have counselled Derick on the issues created by a relationship in the ranks. Now? If two people could find comfort in each other after the end of the world, who the fuck was he to bitch about it? Besides, he figured eventually folks would realize that with less than 10,000 humans left, the survival of the species would take precedence over traditional military protocols.
“Status, Mayday?” Tom asked as he tapped Jag's arm and pointed over to Ren's rifle on the ground several feet away. Ren's pants leg had been cut away and bandages had been secured around the slim, muscled thigh. Maya's medical tab was lying on Ren's stomach, blipping away.
“Don't know yet,” Maya said abruptly, fastening an outer bandage around Ren's leg before pulling a hypo from her pack. “She's been dosed with some kind of toxin. The database is trying to pin it down. Gunny, we'll need the…thing…” she said, making a face at the leftover appendage laying in the dirt by her friend.
Grabbing a small, compressed air can out of her pack, Maya turned to the cut on Ren's cheek just as her med slate blinked.
“What is it?” Tom asked, having dropped a surreptitious hand on Derick's shoulder.
Frowning at the med slate, Maya yanked her pack closer. “It's some form of atracotoxin, like a spider would make,” she said, digging out an anti-tox kit. Priming it, Maya dialled up the closest antidote she had for such a thing and applied it to Ren's arm. “This is a generic anti-toxin, but the shuttle's Med Station should be able to synthesize the exact recipe. We need to get her back to the Firefly.”
“No problem,” Derick answered immediately and moved to Ren's side to pick her up.
As he stood with Ren cradled against him, Maya rose to her feet as well and glanced around the clearing. Biting her lip, she bent over her pack. “What about Edwards and Col… I mean Macon?”
“They didn't make it.” Tom squeezed her arm in sympathy, watching her. “I'm sorry, Mayday.”
The news was taken as he expected. Months ago, he informed her none of her family were among the survivors evacuated from London. Now, like that day, a mask dropped into place and she looked down at the ground. There was no sobbing or curses, just a sharp intake of breath as if the news needed breathing in to be accepted. When she lifted her chin, Tom saw the Shark he knew in place.
“Thank you, Major,” she nodded, her voice sedate. “Let's get Ren to the ship.”
Atta girl, Tom thought silently, thinking it was weak praise for the strength she was showing.
IX
Retreat
Both Sharks and Squints were waiting for Jules when she returned to the Firefly.
The science teams were being herded onto the shuttle and being ordered to leave their equipment outside. Only a handful of them were arguing with the Sharks' urgent requests and she could see their nerves were quickly becoming frayed. Thanks to the roar of gunfire and anxious cries emanating from where Tom and Derick had headed, tempers were getting short as well.
“We're not lifting off yet!” Jules called out, climbing on top of a crate so they could see her. As she'd hoped, the group went quiet. “We're not lifting off. This is just a safety measure. I promise, if we have to leave the equipment, I will make every effort to come back for it.”
Several of the team glanced to Dr. Hall, who nodded and indicated the shuttle. As the group started filing on board, Jules was pleased to see cooler heads prevailing. She had just stepped off the crate when she was addressed.
“Captain?”
Turning, Jules wasn't surprised to see Dr. Hall and Luke Rickman.
“Where's Derick? What's happening?” Luke demanded, glancing behind Jules where distant gunfire echoed from the trees.
With the noise on stereo in her headset, Jules winced. “All I know is two of the privates were attacked…” She paused, listening to the tense voices over her headset. It wasn't lost on Jules the scientists were growing more agitated by this latest turn of events. “Gunny was fine last I saw him,” she told Luke, waving at Sergeant Jackson.
“Yes, ma'am?” the dark-skinned man asked as he jogged over.
“Can we do something about the comms? I don't think it's helping anyone's nerves to hear what's going on.” She tipped her head in the direction of the scientists who were clearly affected by the violence beyond their view. Not that she blamed them.
Jazz glanced back at the others and nodded in understanding.
“On it,” he replied, with a sharp nod. Despite having sent a team to help the Major, Jazz was fighting the urge to go his unit's side. “Shiny!”
As their comtech, Shiny had proved to be a wiz with electronics during previous missions. She joined him quickly, armour jiggling slightly on her slender frame. She'd been working on calibrating the transponders when the order to withdraw was g
iven.
Grabbing her arm, Jazz tugged until she followed him a few feet away, so they wouldn't be overheard. “Cut the comms for the squints, except for Doctor Hall, yeah?”
“But…” Shiny glanced at him with her grey eyes and then at the others before nodding. “Yes, Sergeant. Are we going after them?”
“Not until he gives us the word,” Jazz answered as they shared a look. She was feeling it, too. “I sent Tonkin and his team. They're not alone.”
“All right,” she nodded and headed back towards the shuttle to access its communications terminal.
An explosion made Jules and everyone else jump before every face turned towards the tree line.
“Keep moving!” she shouted above a second explosion, hoping no one panicked. While they seemed to maintain their senses, she could see real fear. In contrast, every single one of the Sharks started checking their equipment, all of them looking towards Sergeant Jackson. Jules couldn't blame them. It had to be difficult to sit here when it was clear their comrades had encountered something hostile.
Hell, Jules wanted to go investigate herself but her agreement, her word to Tom, had been that she would defer to him in matters like this. Her place was here, with the hopper. But damn it all, this wasn't her nature. Six months ago, she'd be the one being called out to join the fray, to lay down cover fire or dropping to put more troops down. This sitting back and letting the others do the fighting for her had her chomping at the bit. There was also this little issue of what her stomach did every time Tom Merrick smirked at her. Despite their brief encounters and short acquaintance, she quite liked the man.
“Sergeant?” Jules called finally, unable to keep quiet any longer. The younger man looked on edge, like a bow string being pulled back.
“Those were grenades, ma'am. Tonkin had a launcher with him,” Jazz answered, studying the horizon.
That was the last straw. Jules tapped her comms. “Major?” When he didn't answer, she let loose several curses heard only in the bowels of aviator bars.
“I'm sure the Major is handling the situation,” Olivia offered, hoping her words helped the younger woman. She hated this too, hated waiting, and really, really hated not knowing.
Jules glared into the distance, straining her ears to hear something. Anything. “Sergeant,” she began just as her headset came to life.
“Jules, get the med station ready! We've got wounded!”
“Better not be you,” Jules growled, tamping down the relief she felt at hearing Tom Merrick's accent. “Roger that!” she replied. “Sending some Sharks to help!”
The grin Jackson gave her before he called for a team to follow him would be worth whatever burr got under Tom's saddle over the order.
* * *
A short time later, Luke Rickman paced outside the Firefly, much to the annoyance of the petite young woman parked on a crate nearby. Tammy was given a description of the beasts along with the sample tentacle and parts of the corporal's shirt. Immediately, she'd set up a makeshift lab to run scans. Glancing up at Luke as he stomped by her for the hundredth time, she sighed but couldn't bring herself to chide him for being distracting.
“Your brother didn't look injured,” Tammy patted the crate next to her. “Sit down, big brother.” That would get Luke's attention for certain.
Pausing, Luke glanced back at her and dragged a hand through his hair. No, Derick hadn't been hurt, (at least, he didn't think so), but the emotions he'd seen on his brother's face during that brief glimpse made Luke want to be at his side.
Despite being the only Rickman in their family to avoid the service, Luke understood the realities of a military life. Their father was a career soldier and their oldest brother Chris was killed in action. When Derick enlisted after Chris's death, Luke hadn't been as accepting of the decision as he should have been. In fact, he hadn't come to terms with it until Derick was gone for a year.
Now, with Earth destroyed and all of his family but Derick gone, and faced with the actuality of his brother running into the fray, Luke nearly lost every term he'd thought he'd accepted. “I need to see him,” he said, dropping onto the crate beside her.
“You can, you know,” Tammy replied, holding up a small vial and tapping it with her fingers. She suspected Luke was out here because of her and the way he looked at her just now proved it. “I'm a big girl Luke. I'll be fine,” she smiled. “Just don't get in their way, okay?”
Luke didn't respond - he was already back on his feet and heading for the shuttle.
Once inside, he headed through the passenger cabin to the Med Station, where he could see his brother taking up the entire doorway to the partitioned cubicle. He could hear the medic's crisp British accent and Liv's quiet but strong voice. Pausing behind his brother, Luke put a hand on Derick's shoulder and squeezed. When his brother scooted to the side, Luke could see the redheaded corporal on the medical bed. On one side, Lance Corporal Sanjay was working on her. On the other, Doctor Hall was holding the medical tab over Ren, using the light to illuminate Maya's workspace.
Tom was just inside the room, to Derick's right and a third Shark was at his left flank. All of them were covered in mud, blood and what looked like plant guts, watching Maya work on the corporal. Not for the first time, Luke felt a little ashamed at being grateful that none of the blood was Derick's. “What happened?” he asked quietly.
“Carnivorous plants the size of fucking rhinos,” Tom answered for Derick, who was staring fixedly at Ren on the bed. “We lost two people to the bloody things.”
A pair of forceps clattered to the deck and Tom winced in reaction. Fuck. Still, Mayday was a pro and didn't bat an eye as she grabbed another set.
Unnerved by his brother's silence, Luke glanced up at him and did a double take because, for once in his life, he couldn't read Derick. His brother wasn't known for keeping his emotions in check and yet, Derick was oddly restrained as he watched the girl on the examination table.
Luke wasn't sure what to think of that, other than the obvious. He looked at the Shark on the table, where the medic was extracting segments of alien pulp from her thigh with thin forceps. “Are we getting out of here?”
“I'm not sure yet,” Tom answered honestly, glancing past his shoulder at the aisle leading back into the passenger cabin and the cockpit. “I'll be back in a bit. I need to check in with the Captain.”
When Tom squeezed past him out the door, Luke took up the Major's spot on the wall. The other Shark opted to leave as well, perhaps sensing the two brothers might need some privacy. He nodded at Luke before leaving. Now alone, mostly, Luke looked up at Derick again. He didn't appear to notice Luke, his gaze locked on the unconscious girl on the table. A tic had started in Derick's jaw, finally exposing just how worried he was. That alone warranted another look at the woman.
Even bloody, unconscious and half covered in alien goop, she was a looker. Red, corkscrew curls escaping from her braid and pale, freckled skin made her look like she belonged on some hilltop in the Scottish Highlands instead of here, having alien crap picked out of her. With high cheekbones and full pouty lips, Luke imagined she had green eyes to match her fiery red hair. He looked up at Derick again and nudged his elbow. “You okay?”
Derick barely took his eyes off the redhead. “Yeah, not a scratch.”
“I didn't mean that.” Luke tilted his head subtly at Ren.
Derick stared at Luke for a full minute this time before turning back. “I'm fine,” he answered, not at all prepared to talk about what he was feeling or thinking. Not until he knew Ren was going to be all right. Which she had to be, because she was too damn stubborn to survive the destruction of Earth only to be killed by an overgrown houseplant.
Luke raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue. The Rickman family, even the two surviving members, didn't discuss women or feelings. Gabriel Rickman hadn't raised his boys that way. Instead, Luke remained at his brother's side in a silent show of solidarity and support. He'd also be there when and if Derick owned up to
caring about the young woman on the examination table.
* * *
With the immediate danger gone, Jules had been in the middle of sorting out the Sharks and the scientists when her comms blipped at her. Realizing she'd completely forgotten about the approaching storm, Jules ordered the teams to stay within eyesight of the shuttle and returned to the cockpit to track the storm's progress. Despite the task at hand, Jules couldn't help but think about the lost Sharks. She hadn't known them, but they'd died on her watch. That was hard to swallow.
Even more hard to swallow was the idea that dying within twenty-four hours of reaching their goal just wasn't right. Edwards and Macon suffered with the rest of them and had the right to share the accomplishment of reaching their new home. Now, they would be footnotes in history as the first casualties in the colonisation of Gaia.
Sitting back, Jules rubbed her eyes and turned her gaze towards the horizon.
“Mierda,” she breathed, eyes widening as bluish-purple lightning sparked brilliantly across the face of the largest anvil cloud she'd ever seen. She even had to lean forward to find the top of the construct. Only when thunder rumbled from one end of the sky to the other did she break her gaze and look down at the console. Reaching for the stabilization controls, Jules glanced up when she heard someone behind her.
When Tom paused in the doorway of the cockpit, Jules indicated the co-pilot's chair.
“I figured you could use this.” Tom held up a covered coffee mug. “There's no cream or sugar but you Yanks need to learn how to drink it properly anyway.”
Jules snorted and took the cup. “Thank you,” she murmured quietly, testing the temperature before deciding to drink it anyway. The first sip scalded her tongue and she tried not to wince. Not like she needed taste buds but the warmth felt oh so good. Glancing down at the cup, she frowned and looked at him.
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