* * *
Everything around him was on mute, drowned in Tammy's screams burning up his memories. Hell, he couldn't close his eyes without seeing her with that expression on her face. The horrified realization she was about to die because Luke couldn't rescue her.
Why the fuck couldn't the damn thing have taken him??
If he'd hurried a little more. If he hadn't stopped to… hell, if he hadn't gone to get the transponder, he could have been there. Tears leaked from his closed eyes into the blanket under him. Boys don't cry. How many times had their father drilled it into their heads? So many times, he and Chris and Derick had been forced to hold grief inside of them until it channelled down every nerve ending and burned them up.
“Luke.”
Tom. Luke didn't acknowledge him, sure of what was coming. A pep talk. Suck it up, son. We need you to be strong. You were spared for a reason. Blah, buh-blah, fucking blah. He didn't want to fucking hear it.
There was a sigh behind him and a hand squeezed his shoulder.
“I have no right to ask this right now, but we're gonna need you Luke. Something's coming and I need to know what it is. We're gonna need you, mate. When this is over, you and me will find some god-awful grog, a quiet place and toast those we've lost. And then I'll tell you about Lisa and a secret not even your brother knows.”
That got his attention. Luke turned and looked over his shoulder to find not the Tom he knew, but one suddenly aged by fifteen years and steeped in grief and pain. Tom always seemed older than his years, but this was a raw and angry version that screamed loss. After a minute, Luke found his voice. “You couldn't save her?”
Clearing his throat, Tom shook his head and looked at his hands, clenching them so Luke wouldn't see the tremor. “No. I couldn't. I had to kill her.”
Before Luke could reply, Tom's link went active with the Captain requesting him. Clearing his throat again, Tom pushed himself to his feet and ran a hand over his face. He glanced out the door for a moment before turning back. When he did, the Tom Luke knew was back. “For now, get yourself together. I need to know what attacked you and I need you to help me figure out a way to kill it.”
* * *
When Tom re-joined Jules in the main chamber, he found a hot and sweaty Jackson and his team back from searching for Dr. Akiyama. They smelled like the damp earth outside and it looked like they'd tracked it in on their clothes.
“Sergeant,” he said, motioning the man over to join him and Jules closer to the wall, for a bit of privacy. “What did you find?”
Jackson took a swig of his water bottle and dug into a pocket.
“We didn't find any kind of trail, Major,” he said, shaking his head. “Just the ground, all churned up. No broken branches, no prints, nothing. Just this,” he said, holding up a dirty silver chain with a locket on the end of it. “It's Dr. Akiyama's. I remember telling her to tuck it in her shirt when she was leaning over the water. Shiny found it when she dug up the ground at the…place.” He held it out to Tom. “She found it two feet down.”
A chill raced up Tom's spine at the news and he gently took the locket from his soldier. Had Luke been right? Had the thing taken Hanae and Tammy Adelaide into the earth? He glanced at Jules, to find the disquieted expression on her face matched his own thoughts. How was that possible? Finally, he nodded, winding the chain around his hand.
“Thanks, Jackson,” he said, dismissing the sergeant as he stared at the locket.
He thought of Hanae in the river the day before, wading through the water with bare feet and her pants rolled up to just below her knees. For a few spare minutes, she had looked less like a scientist and more like a kid catching frogs. Tom hadn't been able to bring himself to remind her of the dangers possibly lurking under the water. Did she have any family on the ships or was she like most of humanity, the sole survivor of her blood line?
“I liked her,” he said, aware of Jules standing beside him, her hand on his arm.
“So did I.”
Glancing at Jules, Tom smiled, but it was weary and sad as he tucked the necklace into a pocket. “I won't lose any more of them, Jules,” he said firmly. “This planet's made it clear she won't let us stay unless we earn it. We've got to make it safe.”
“Agreed…”
“Major!”
Tom looked up at Mayday's call, finding Harwood and Anderson toting a stretcher between them. The lance corporal looked pale and Anderson looked like he'd tossed his cookies already. Motioning to Jules, he followed behind the pair as his medic directed them into the room with the spiral staircase. Thoughtfully, Maya had decided to keep Chu's body separate from Luke. Tom made a mental note to make sure her record got updated with something that said, 'above and beyond the call of duty'.
“What'd you find, Lance Jack?” he prompted, glancing at the tarp-wrapped body.
Letting out a sigh, Cori pulled her helmet off and shoved sweat-soaked hair off her face. “No trace, sir. No kind of trail or path or anything. Private Chu…” She swallowed thickly and glanced at the tarp. “You were a dredge, right sir? An ice miner?” Cori's eyes flicked to Captain Curran before she corrected herself.
“That's right.” Tom nodded, recalling Harwood's upbringing had been on a mining colony much like his.
Rubbing her face with one hand, Cori continued and gestured towards Chu's body. “You've seen the lye blowback victims, right? When the lye wash for the permafrost blows out? There's no flesh left,” she said quietly, having lost a step-brother to one such accident. “It's like he was hit with lye or acid…”
“I'm pretty sure it's an acid-based composition.”
Luke. Tom took the younger man's appearance as a bittersweet victory, but a victory nonetheless. He looked pale and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he was on his feet, holding up his slate.
“What've you got?” he said, joining Luke at the door instead of making him come closer to Chu's body.
“I made a preliminary sketch of the…” Luke's tongue flicked over his lips. “It.” He showed the sketch to Tom, not looking up when the women joined them. “Based on what I saw.”
“Bloody hell…” Tom grimaced as he took the slate to study the drawing. Like a worm with limbs, the creature was a thing of nightmares. Noting the measurements Luke had scribbled in a corner, he swore inwardly. Seven fucking feet? He showed it to Jules who swore.
“The acid is fast working, from what I saw.” Luke's jaw worked as he fought back his disgust. “Chu's small calibre bullets dented it, so I think the plasma rifles will do the trick.”
“Good,” Tom nodded, handing the slate back to Luke. “Anything else?”
“It did go into the ground.” Luke cleared his throat when his voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I haven't figured out how yet, but I will. I…”
“Luke.” Tom squeezed his shoulder. When his friend's eyes raised to his, he nodded, a silent thank you. “This is a bloody good start. Get to Shiny and make sure this gets to everyone's slate. Next step, we're gonna need a door. Your brother and his team are stripping the outer hull plating off the Firefly. It can withstand re-entry, it should be able to stand up to that acid, right?”
“For a while, yeah,” Luke nodded, brow furrowed as he did the mental calculations. “Good thing with hull plating it's made to withstand everything from plasma to solar flares, corrosive acid will strip off the ceramic coat, but it's not going to eat through titanium.”
Inspiration struck Tom then as he saw Luke working it out, devoting his considerable mental abilities to the question. The lad might be somewhat shell-shocked after what happened to his bird, but he was a fighter. After meeting their father, Tom was convinced it was in the Rickman DNA. Spawned from a bastard, they could be nothing else but scrappers.
“Can you build me a barricade to keep those fuckers out?”
“Yeah,” Luke met Tom's gaze. He could do that. He could build something to ensure none of those things got in here to take anyone else. The way
it had taken… stop, just stop, he told himself. He needed his head back in the game, he needed to be useful, or he was going to go crazy with despair.
“Yeah, I can do that.” Then with resolve, he repeated. “I will.”
“Good,” Tom clamped his shoulder and squeezed. “As soon as Derick gets back, get to it.”
XXIV
Subs
She could see forever.
Ren snorted to herself as she lowered an eye to the scope of her sniper rifle to check on Derick… Gunny's status. At this angle, she had an uninterrupted view of the man as he worked to pull sheets of hull plating off the shuttle. Never one to just give orders, Gunny was masked up, wielding a laser cutter on the shuttle's roof. Rising to his feet, he lifted the mask and hollered at one of the Betas on the ground.
“What do you suppose he's saying?”
“Jeez…!! Jag!” Swatting his arm, she scowled. How in hell had she forgotten that her spotter and his slate would have the same view as her scope?
Laughing, Jag elbowed her and waved a hand at the expansive valley and the horizon that stretched on and on, beyond it. “The Gunny is very good-looking, but you should be looking at all of this,” he teased, indicating the scenery. “You've been gawping at him for the last six months.”
“Like you haven't been! And I don't gawp,” Ren retorted, eyes narrowing as she spotted something on Jag's vaunted horizon. She twisted slightly, bringing the rifle with her to look through the scope. “Oh, check that out…”
Against the backdrop of the pale green sky, a flock of birds rode wind thermals and soared across the sky, dipping and rising like ballet dancers on a stage. Ren zoomed in on them. “Whoa.”
“They look like pterodactyls,” Jag replied with a wrinkled nose as his slate blipped an incoming message. “Kind of ug…” He descended into Hebrew curses and tapped Ren's shoulder, putting the slate forward so she wouldn't have to shift much. “Look at this. That's what got the squints and killed Evan.”
“Well, there goes any sleep tonight,” Ren grumbled as she studied the screen. Across the bottom of the screen, in neat handwriting were the words Subterranean Ugly Bastard aka SUB. “The major's been naming things again. It spits acid? Fantastic,” she growled and went back to the scope.
Instead of focusing on the Gunny, Ren widened the range so she could view the area around the shuttle. Eventually, she'd get together her fellow Sharks and share a moment over the loss of yet another Shark. She made a mental note to talk about how Evan had been a dynamite poker player with more stories about horrible dining experiences than any man alive. The guy loved food and would travel halfway across the system to sample a meal.
Hell, he'd even showed her and a few others how to make rations taste a little more palatable with some things he'd snuck aboard in his duffel. Yeah. When this was over, the Sharks would make their goodbyes to Chu, Edwards and Macon.
“We'll show them not to mess with Earthers.”
“Gaians,” Ren replied without looking up from the scope. “We're Gaians now.”
“Gaians.” With Jag's accent, it sounded a little more exotic. “Oh, the hopper team is headed back now.”
Ren felt more than saw Jag shift to his belly next to her. “I see them.” Suddenly, she cocked her head and glanced at Jag. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Jag didn't look up from his slate.
“I don't know. Like… a tiktiktik noise?”
Quirking an eyebrow at her, Jag pushed up so he could look around. “I don't hear… Oh. Yeah, I hear it now. Tiktiktik tiktik…”
The noise got louder as Ren and Jag exchanged bewildered glances until another noise caught her attention. A rock or something. A loose stone tumbling and bouncing against stone. Hefting up her rifle, Ren put a finger over her lips and quietly flipped the tripod shut. Using hand signals, she indicated the edge of the pyramid's flat-topped apex.
Jag nodded, all business now as he quietly got to his feet.
Ren bent into a crouch and silently crossed the stone to the opposite edge to peer over it cautiously. A heartbeat passed before she slapped her link open, thumbed the rifle to automatic and opened fire.
“INCOMING! Subs on the back wall!!”
* * *
When had it got so fucking hot? Tom groused as he hefted a piece of hull plating up the steps to the pyramid. Or had being stuck on a ship with recycled air for six months taken away his tolerance for humidity? Piss on that, he grumbled as the cooler air inside the temple enveloped him. Humans just weren't made for being canned up like sardines.
Wiping his brow, Tom sidestepped the squints who volunteered to help with retrieving the plating. He'd originally ordered all of them inside, screw their research for now. A reminder of the Subs kept the bitching in check but he'd been pleasantly surprised and impressed when many of them stepped forward with offers to help. With the extra hands, they were quickly organized into two groups, one to strip the plating and the other to carry the pieces back as they came off.
Now, watching them work, he might just yet take back everything he'd ever said about them. Not that he would tell anyone. Well, maybe Jules.
Speaking of… he sought her out automatically. She was leaning over Luke's work table with the younger Rickman. Both looked involved in the transponder laid out on the surface. Luke looked beat to hell and honestly, Tom felt guilty about that. He just hoped the kid would forgive him.
“INCOMING! Subs on the back wall!!”
For a split second, everyone in the room tensed and Tom met Jules's eyes across the room. He nodded and ran for the door, palming his link open. “Gunny!! Time to come home! Jackson, get a squad on the back wall to cover Orphan Annie!”
“Jesus, they're coming outta the ground!!”
As he emerged on the steps, Tom found himself in the middle of surreal calm compared to the fight in his headset. That only meant one thing. They weren't bothering with a frontal attack. Yet. “I want everyone who's not running their ass off to form up on the gate. Shiny, I want cover fire to get the Gunny's people in!” he called, heading towards the main entrance to the temples.
* * *
Normally, Ren would have the Gunny's back by laying down suppression fire to get her teammates back to base safely, but this situation was anything but normal. Not with six…five (nice shot, Jag!) of the ugly fuckers making their way up the wall. They jumped from foothold to foothold and how they weren't tumbling back…
“Ren, your right!!”
At Jag's yell, Ren turned to her right automatically just as something tightened around her leg and yanked her off her feet. Hitting the ground hard, her rifle clattered to the smooth stone beside her.
“Shit…!” Scrambling for it, she was tugged out of range and swore. Eyes darting at her feet, Ren's eyes widened at the sight of a thick, ropey tentacle extending from a Sub's mouth and wrapped securely around her calf.
“Oh, HELL no…” Jerking her machete free of its sheath on her back, Ren swung at the appendage. The blade sliced cleanly through as the beast screamed. Not wasting time, Ren kicked free of the remnants and lunged for her rifle. Rolling over the weapon and bringing it up with her, she opened fire on the creature and the one that appeared behind it.
“These things are fucking ugly!” Jag yelled behind her.
“I'm not arguing!” Ren retorted as both creatures tumbled backwards over the edge of the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried towards Jag just as another beast appeared, it's long, muscled neck rearing back. Without thinking, Ren tackled Jag just as something wet splattered against the back of her body armour. Shoving Ren off him, Jag shot the Sub with a torrent of filthy Hebrew.
“Jag!! My armour!” Ren scrabbled at the quick release under her arm, feeling pricks of pain pierce her fingertips as they brushed against the acidic spit. The back of her neck prickled with tiny spears of heat and Jesus, it stunk!
“Here!”
Ren felt a slight thump against her ribs and then the armour loosened. Shi
mmying out of it, she let it drop and backed away from the already disintegrating carbon fibrete. “Jesus!” she swallowed as the hardened material literally disappeared before her eyes.
“Got two more!” Jag called, making her look up. Sure enough, two more were attempting to clear the edge of the roof. “Where's the Sarge?”
“I don't know but we're not waiting! We're getting off the roof!” Ren tossed the strap of her rifle over her head and half-dragged Jag towards the open corner of the plateau. She paused at the edge, swearing at the long, smooth expanse of rock. “How do you feel about slides?”
* * *
“MOVE!” Derick bellowed over gunfire as he slid down the ladder of the shuttle. Before they'd come out here, the squints had been instructed to make for the temple in the event of an attack. Don't stop. Don't look back. Run. They had taken the order to heart and were now running pell-mell for the opening in the wall as Sharks poured out, laying down cover fire.
As his squad formed up, Subs emerged from the ground, throwing dirt and debris everywhere. Shouts of surprise and pain added to the chaotic scene. A shriek caught his attention and Derick saw someone on her hands and knees in the high grass.
“MOVE! On your feet!” he bellowed, taking aim but just like that, she was gone with the Sub, her scream cutting off like a tap.
“Fuck!” Movement in the corner of his eye made him look up in time to see more Subs burst from the ground. Shit, the number of Subs was catching up to the number of people! He needed to do something about that. Jumping onto a nearby large rock, Derick thumbed his rifle to full automatic and fired bursts into the oncoming creatures.
“Gunny! Get your arse to the bloody temple!!”
Hopping off the rock into a dead run, Derick sprinted for it, knowing the order wouldn't be given until Tom had everyone inside. He cleared the gate opening in no time flat and made for the steps, where Tom and a couple of other Sharks were keeping the way clear for him.
Just as Derick was closing in on the steps, a Sub burst from the ground directly in front of him, spraying him with dirt and debris. Lunging to avoid the beast, Derick cursed when the ground gave beneath his feet, signalling the arrival of yet another Sub.
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