by Dan Davis
“Sir.” Harris backed over to their side of the tunnel while the wheeler crept out into the center. It kept going, further up the tunnel and deeper into the wheelhunter complex.
“It’s getting away,” Tseng said. “I won’t let it escape.”
“The others must have raised the alarm by now,” Ram said, watching the wheeler back away slowly up the tunnel. “I don’t think we’re in danger of counter attack.”
“Might be on their way, sir,” Harris said. “These lava tubes run for hundreds of klicks.”
“What about the ones we chased in here?” Ram said, keeping pace with the alien.
“But did they actually come in this entrance, though?” Harris said.
“What is all this stuff?” Tseng said.
They walked past benches heaving with equipment, some of it bubbling and fizzing inside metal cylinders. Ram used his sword to poke the lid off one, while watching the wheeler to see how it would react. It didn’t seem to do anything.
“Leave their science experiments alone,” Tseng said. “Are you insane?”
“I’m in hermetically sealed armor, I’m not going to get infected.”
“I’ll remember you said that when you grow a second head.”
“I’m already on my second head,” Ram said, peering inside the container. It was too dark to see well but it seemed like some sort of red foamy broth, thick enough to have large bubbles forming slowly on the surface. He moved on, after the wheeler, who scuttled over to the next section and reached for something up on the workbench at the side of the tunnel.
“Stop!” Ram ran to it and held the sword to its hub. The thing stopped and slowly lowered its arm. “Move over there.” He gestured with the point. “Over there, you idiot.” It didn’t move.
“What was it going for?” Tseng asked from behind his weapon.
Ram glanced at the bench. His legs felt weak as he reached out for it.
“One of our civilian EVA suits.”
Harris growled. “Jesus.”
Ram pinched a bit of it and lifted it up. There was something heavy inside that slowly oozed out. “It’s filled with blood. Old blood, maybe some skin and other tissue. Maybe a couple of liters of the stuff, a day old? I don’t know. I’m going to take a sample.” He popped a medical container on his webbing, emptied bandages and drugs, then spooned in a few fingers of blood and some stringy stuff that might have been shreds of skin or twisted, sodden hair.
Was this you, Milena? Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Well,” Tseng said. “At least we know what happened to them.”
Ram turned on him. “We don’t fucking know anything.”
“Let’s kill this thing,” Harris said.
“What are you talking about?” Ram said. “It showed us this. It understood why we’re here and it helped us. It showed us this, don’t you see?” Ram sheathed his sword and crouched in front of the wheeler. It flinched. “Where are the others?”
It didn’t move.
“There’s a door here,” Harris said. “Two doors.”
“Watch him,” Ram said and he searched for the rod keys and pried the doors open. Both were small cells, like the one that had held the wheeler. Inside the first he found Jane Munroe, the biologist. She was in her EVA suit but her helmet was gone. She was dead.
He was relieved it wasn’t Milena inside.
“Someone’s coming,” Harris said, just as Ram opened the second door, his hands shaking.
As soon as he saw the figure inside, he knew it wasn’t Milena. It was a man. Inside his EVA suit.
“He’s alive,” Ram said. “It’s the physicist. Zachery Arthur. He’s out of it but his heart and respiration—”
Harris screamed a warning. “We’ve got incoming.”
“Alright,” Ram said from inside the cell while picking up Arthur. “Hold your fire until—”
Tseng and Harris started shooting. Their rifles firing rapid bursts that filled the tunnel with a wall of booming, echoing noise before his armor or his ear implants compensated. Ram threw the physicist over his shoulder and peeped out. The muzzle flashes half-blinded him, showing the Marines shooting straight along the lava tube.
The wheeler crept away toward the exit, slinking low beneath the weapon’s fire. Ram let it go.
“Withdraw,” Ram shouted. He doubted the Marines could hear him. “Come on.”
An explosion smashed the wall apart near his head. Another blew a shower of rock chips from the ceiling down onto his armored head. The rounds shredded the equipment all around them and ricochets clanged off his suit. Ram ran, carrying the civilian for five meters or so then put him on the ground behind a sturdy-looking metal tub the height of a normal human. Ram crouched behind it, looking out.
Wheelers rolled forward, shooting as they came. In just a couple of seconds, Ram saw three, four aliens fall but there were more behind, a black mass boiling out of the darkness.
Tseng turned and ran back down the tube away from the aliens.
“Keep going,” Ram shouted and unslung his rifle. “Now, you, Harris. Get the civilian out.”
When the Marines were behind him, Ram fired. The XRS-Handspear punched back into his shoulder, over and over. It was like fighting, wrestling. Like being stomped on by one of the old subjects. The weapon shredded the wheelers, punched into them and through them, ripping them apart. Ram was showered with debris. A round slapped off his helmet, knocking his head back and ruining his aim.
Milena was in the tunnel somewhere. In another room nearby. She had to be. Ram slowed his rate of fire to conserve the remaining ammo in his magazine. The wheelers surged forward and Ram opened up again.
Click.
As he swapped in his remaining magazine, supporting fire came from behind him, picking off a charging wheeler, knocking it flat.
Ram ran toward the aliens. He couldn’t leave without her.
He was hit in the chest. A detonation that knocked him off his feet and left him fighting for breath. One of the aliens rolled up to him, towering above where he lay but Ram had his rifle in hand and he ripped the creature in half, blood and quivering organs splashing out from the hub onto Ram’s feet.
More alien rounds hit him as he got to one knee, rounds that hurt him—bad— so he dived forward and fired from a prone position. Too low to the ground to hit the aliens in cover on the sides of the lava tube, the ones hiding amongst the science and engineering equipment. But the ones in the center went down like dominoes.
When his rifle clicked empty, he turned and ran for cover, trying to keep as low as he could. He knew he was a giant target, he knew he would get hit. And he did. A round hit high on his back, sent him sprawling face down for a minute. He had to keep moving. Lurching to his feet, he tried to keep to the side of the tunnel. The Marines kept the aliens off his back with bursts.
Ram caught up to the others. Tseng had the unconscious physicist on his shoulder but he was struggling to shoot.
“Give him to me,” Ram said, just as Tseng was shot in the knee.
Ram’s armor had protected him. It was thicker and heavier than the standard issue. Tseng’s leg seemed to burst and he fell.
Harris shouted something while Ram scooped up the fallen civilian and Tseng, who was screaming from his throat, his teeth clenched.
While the private provided covering fire, Ram jogged away with a man on each shoulder. It hurt him to breathe and his rifle banged on his lower back and the top of his legs on one side and his sword smacked into his hip and thigh on the other side with every step.
The wheeler sprang up out of the shadows. Ram stumbled and hesitated. It was the one from the cell.
“Get back, sir,” Stirling shouted.
The sergeant, Flores and Cooper were there, aiming at it. Ram was in the way. The wheeler prostrated itself.
“Stop,” Ram shouted. “It helped us. This one helped us, it was a prisoner or something. Don’t shoot it. It is running away from the others.”
Stirling hesitated, as well he might. “Flores, Cooper. Get Harris out.” They ran by Ram and the alien. “Really think I need to shoot it, sir.”
“It’s unarmed and it helped us. We can take it prisoner. Take it back. Do not shoot it.”
“How do we take it prisoner, sir?” Stirling said.
“Don’t know. Just let it go for now. We need to evacuate the wounded and fall back.”
“Sir,” Stirling said, nodding at the civilian on Ram’s shoulder. “No one else?”
“Let’s go.”
They fell back, the wheelhunter freed from the cell followed right behind them while the hostile ones were kept at bay with continuous covering fire. Ram kept moving, one foot in front of the other, hearing the blast of guns and grenades detonating over the sound of his labored breathing.
Then. Up ahead, a bright light tinged with a red-orange glow.
“Exit,” Ram said, mostly to himself. “Come on.”
He staggered out into a beautiful sunset. The green-blue sky was smeared in the west with layered pastels in yellow, orange and red over the jagged black horizon. A hard wind whipped down from the ridge above, powerful enough to stagger him and force him to brace against it.
Corporal Fury, acting on her initiative, had decided to bring the ETATs directly up to the lava tube. She had her enormous rifle braced atop the roll bars, ready to pop anyone following the Marines.
“Don’t shoot the wheeler that’s with us,” Ram shouted at her while he loaded the unconscious physicist and the wounded Tseng onto one of the vehicles.
“With you, sir?” Fury asked. “Oh, shit me.”
There wasn’t much time for discussion so Ram made sure to shout at everyone to let the wheeler come with them.
It seemed liked madness but he grabbed the wrist of the wheeler where it cowered at his feet and pulled it onto the flatbed, which pitched up in front with the weight of it pushing down the suspension at the back. The alien climbed on with ease and folded itself up like a spider in a hole.
Stirling wanted to tie it up first but there was no time. The wheeler soldiers were coming close behind. And that was not all.
“Wheelhunter forces incoming from the north and the south,” Fury said. “Looks like vehicles. Wildcats and Wheelbugs.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Stirling shouted. “Everyone on, now.”
“You’re too heavy,” Cooper shouted from the driver’s seat. “Kick that piece of shit off.”
Ram jumped off himself and ran to the other vehicle. “Swap with me,” he said to Fury, who did not protest and instead crouched next to the hideous alien as they raced downhill. Everyone who was able to fired their weapon at the wheelers that rolled out of the lava tube behind them.
Wheeler vehicles came up over the sides of the ridges on either side then plunged down after them. The Wheelbugs seemed to be APCs but were big enough to crush the ETATs. The Wildcats were armed with a plasma weapon on top and incoming rounds smashed into the rocks around them. Others rattled the frames of the ETATs.
Stirling got hit on the head by something and slumped over. Dazed, at least. Maybe worse.
Marines shouted recommendations for the best routes down the mountain to each other.
“Go left, Cooper, you fucking idiot. No, left!”
Up ahead, down at the bottom of the slope, a jagged wall came closer.
“You’re going to have to get out of this valley,” Ram shouted. “Up and over the side.”
“We can’t,” Cooper shouted back. “There’s no way out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“We are leaving,” Dr. Ahmar said. “Right now.”
“You can’t,” Kat said, standing in front of the group mutinying against her. She wasn’t sure it was technically a mutiny but then, that was the point in contention.
She stood halfway up the cargo ramp while most of the VIPs clustered together at the base.
Lieutenant Tseng and his men had raced off away from the Lepus up the hill after the retreating wheelers. In the lull after the brief contact with the enemy, the civilians had decided to act.
“Well, I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I am sorry but I can. I can and I will. You may be in charge of the shuttle,” Ahmar said. “But we are on the surface now. And yes, I know, yes, we all know we are on the surface thanks to your efforts but on the surface we are. And if there is one thing I know, it’s the surface of planets. Now, if you do not mind, we are making our way, on foot, to the outpost. We shall be picked up by your colleagues on the way.”
They had gone over it enough times and Kat was sick of hearing about it. “I need you.”
“You may stay with your shuttle,” Ahmar said. “That is perfectly alright with me.”
Kat laughed in his face then turned to the wounded man propped up against the wall of the cargo compartment. “Dr. Fo, please can you talk some sense into your colleague? Aren’t you his superior or something?”
The tiny, wizened old biologist grinned behind his helmet visor. “Superior in intellect, certainly—”
“Ha!” Dr. Ahmar, Head of Planetary Science, exclaimed.
“— but not, I am sad to say, in any legal, organizational, hierarchical sense,” Dr. Fo continued. “And Ahmar would not listen, even if I had such authority. Back on Earth, when I was UNOP Director of Science, he was one of my department heads. The man spent more time attempting to undermine me than actually implementing his departmental strategy so I have no doubt—”
“Oh, please,” Ahmar shouted. “You’re paranoid and senile. You should never have been allowed on this mission, it has quite ruined what little intellect still remained and left you this demented shell of the scientist you once claimed to—”
“Doctors, please!” Kat shouted. The only sound was Fo’s cackling laugh. Kat could quite believe the old man was out of his mind. “Everyone is stressed. Tired. Injured. Everyone is afraid. I know I am. The animals in us want to run, want to hide. Want to play dead.” She raised her voice over the protestations and objections. “But you’re all scientists. Or engineers. Or administrators. You’re capable people. And I need you. The mission needs you. Help me patch up the shuttle and we can fly her back to the outpost. You can step off this baby in style or you can trudge for two or three days through hostile country, carrying all your water, all your rations. You ready for that? Up and down these bloody hills, over rocks that are like a bunches of knife blades. Really? Your suits are going to recycle some of your sweat, your respiration. Did any of you do the survival course in these suits? Yeah? How long were you in your suit for, a day? Half a day? You’re not all going to make it if you stroll out of here. Maybe none of you will make it.”
“You can’t scare us into helping you,” Dr. Ahmar said. “We are making a rational choice, for the greater good. Come on, everyone.”
He turned and strode through the group, reassuring the others.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kat muttered to herself. Annoyed at herself for being unable to reason with them and having to resort to violence.
She drew her personal defense weapon, the short but powerful P300.
Aimed it just over the group and squeezed off a burst.
The P300 was a brutal weapon. Good for medium (supposedly) and short range. Medium caliber and power cartridge. But the rate of fire was insane and her burst was brief but sprayed a dozen rounds over Ahmar’s head.
No one likes firearms being discharged in their general direction. Senior, VIP, civilian, scientists most of all. They flinched, ducked. A few dived to the ground.
Dr. Ahmar, to his credit, merely hunched his head into his neck and froze.
“For the greater good,” Kat said into the silence. “For the greater good, you will all assist me to get this shuttle flying.”
Ahmar jabbed a finger at her. “You’ll be finished for this. Your position gives you no right to just—”
“Do you really need me to explain it again? I must deliver the data to the Sentinel or our battleship will be destr
oyed. Without the Sentinel, the other ships in the approaching fleet will be lost, too. The Ashoka and the Genghis are state of the art, cutting edge and extremely powerful but they are smaller even than the Victory. Our outpost will be overrun. And humanity’s presence in the Cancri System will be over. If we can’t hold on to this outpost and this planet, we’ll lose this system. If we lose the system, what hope does humanity have in fighting for our future, in protecting our own system if we have to, in fighting for Earth? You really think I care about my career, Dr. Ahmar? My fucking career? Get a hold of yourself, sir.” They stared up at her. The panicked people were helped to their feet. “Now, ladies and gentlemen. We have hull breaches to patch. Electrical systems to repair. Sensors to calibrate. Most importantly, the turbines in the atmosphere engines need to be cleaned. Let’s get to work.”
***
She sunk into her pilot’s chair, draping across it sideways with her legs over the arm rest and let out a long sigh.
“Sheila,” she said. “I’m done in, love. Long old motherfucker of a day, right?”
“Repairs are almost complete,” Sheila said. “You, however, are showing clear sign of mental and physical exhaustion. You have not slept for at least thirty-nine hours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kat said, yawning and stretching her back. “Thanks for reminding me. I’m fine. Look, I’m taking more stims. My performance is unaffected.”
“You are demonstrating an increasing frequency of microsleep and your speech is slurred. Your eye movement is reduced by—”
“Alright! Jesus wept, Sheila. Knock it off.” Kat dragged her medical box from under the seat and injected a stim package into her neck, trying to ignore the warnings on the label. SHORT TERM USE ONLY. Performance degradation will occur after blah blah blah. “So, repairs are coming along nice. Can you communicate with the outpost, yet?”
“Not with standard communications power usage,” the AI said. “Outpost systems are not receiving, presumably due to damage to outpost. Increasing our power would likely boost our signal enough to be received by EVA suit systems. Do you wish to proceed?”
