by Chris Fox
A roaring sounded ahead, and for a moment he worried that he had stumbled upon the attackers’ hideout. Maybe it was a ship or something powering up, ready to go attack his rescue party.
It seemed logical, except that now he was drawing closer and he was certain he recognized that sound. But from where?
As the darkness curved, he saw just ahead what must be a massive cave mouth leading out. Finally, a way for him to exit the cave. The darkness led out into an area where light shone down from above.
He approached the light and the roar with caution, and then, just as he saw the lush greenery, he suddenly realized where he knew that sound from—it was a waterfall!
Each step he took was a bounding leap as he ran, stopping in the light where he could see it—water cascading down the side of a great cliff, all manner of trees and grass covering the surrounding hills.
Where he must have landed was a completely different location altogether, just a side of a mountain range, he guessed.
And if there were trees and running water, that meant there had to be oxygen, right? He wasn’t the scientist, he was the Marine. Still, that much made sense to him.
After a moment of standing there and just enjoying the air, he remembered that his suit had an atmospheric tester built in. He opened up the display on his HUD, told it to run the test, and waited.
Atmospheric Match: Positive.
Well, hot damn. That was good news. He still wasn’t sure. Nothing like that had ever been discovered and, with the beating his suit had taken, he half-wondered if it could be malfunctioning.
Taking a deep, worried breath, he pressed the button on his helmet that pulled the face-plate back, leaving his face exposed.
He didn’t evaporate or burn up or whatever else he supposed might happen if the atmosphere wasn’t hospitable. Instead, he took a huge breath of clean, pure, air. It was unlike any air he had ever breathed before—as if someone had taken air and opened it up, filling it with more air. It had a slight chill to it, and cooled him from the inside out.
Wind blew through the trees, causing leaves to rustle and Triston spun, watching the wind carry across the foliage in a gentle way that made him think of spirits dancing across the treetops.
And then he froze, because the moving trees had revealed something else. Past one of the hills and up on a ridge he had spotted a reflection of light. Now that he looked closer, he saw the trees move aside again and there was no doubt in his mind—there was a ship up there, likely one from his team. If someone was alive, anyone beside himself, he was going to piss his pants with joy.
So he ran again, each breath filling him with more energy and causing him to forget the pain he had been in not long before.
He crashed through the bushes, not worrying about scratches or potential poisons or other issues that could arise, since he had the protection of the armor. Soon he was close, but paused when he saw that the ship was on the edge of a cliff. It wasn’t about to fall off, but getting to it would be tricky.
Well, it might have been tricky for someone who didn’t have thrusters in his boots. He positioned himself and set the blasters to on, only to find himself thrust up and sideways to bang into a nearby tree!
The ground came up fast and he landed with a thud. Head spinning, he sat there for a moment. The previous crash, or possibly the use of his thrusters when the pod had crashed the second time… something must have broken them. He pushed up, considering other options for getting up to the ledge.
The exoskeleton helped with strength, so he could jump higher than normal, but this was a bigger jump than he was capable of even with the help. Gravity felt slightly off, but not enough to make a real difference.
So climbing it was. Getting a foothold in the armor was harder than Triston would have thought. If anything, it was a hindrance, but he wasn’t about to leave his armor behind. Not on some unknown planet, and especially not with those red eyes he had seen.
As he climbed, he contemplated what it could have been. An illusion? Some sort of giant demon, maybe, and he was actually dead? He doubted that part, but didn’t want to rule anything out. The most likely answer was that some attacking alien force had some sort of image projection that they used to scare the hell out of their enemies.
It had certainly worked.
Triston grabbed ahold of the rocky ledge above, nearly there, and leaped the last bit to reach the ledge and gain his footing. Landing in a crouch, his first instinct was to make a beeline for the cockpit and check on survivors. But when the leaves of the dense jungle to his left rustled, he had to second guess that instinct.
He hadn’t run into any alien life force out here yet, but that certainly didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
He had a feeling he was about to meet it now.
Whatever he did here, he told himself to stay calm. Be prepared.
But when he reached over to his back, he realized he hadn’t even thought to grab his rifle in all the chaos. The Ka-Bar knife was also back on the pod… which meant he had no weapons.
So when the leaves moved again and then something appeared, running straight at him, he decided there was only one move here—to run to the ship.
A quick glance back showed three creatures, no taller than his knee and looking like something between a wolf and a movie depiction of a small dinosaur.
They went back and forth between running on all fours and rising up onto their hind legs, while slashing out with large claws. He was almost at the ship when the first one reached him, and he heard a scraping sound as the claw hit the metal of his suit.
“Open the fuck up!” he shouted, and was glad to see the AI from his suit synched with the ship and the side-door opening. With a leap he was in, the door closing behind him.
One of those little bastards leaped in to join him, but Triston spun, knowing exactly where the extra rifles were stored onboard, and snatched one down.
Another was on his suit, almost to his head. He spun, slammed the helmet back on, and threw himself at nearby wall.
When he turned, the little bastard had just landed on the floor and was looking up at him with beady little green eyes, preparing to leap again. As it did, he brought the rifle down and scorched the little shit.
Apparently, these aliens weren’t invincible, especially not to Marine Corps issued blasters.
More scraping sounded from outside the ship, moving to the top, and he spun, rifle aimed, just in case.
When nothing else happened, he relaxed, and opened his faceplate again. The stench of the dead alien hit his nostrils like skunk mixed with burnt bacon, so he put the faceplate back in place and cleared the air from his suit.
A horrible thought hit him—with all that noise and no response… it wasn’t likely anyone on board was alive.
It wasn’t a large ship. Enough room for the four people that made up one space recon team, three of those teams to a flight squad. A whole platoon had been sent out here, and this was all that remained… as far as Triston knew.
Heart pounding, he made his way to the cockpit, and froze. A leg was visible in the entryway and, when he passed he was able to see a puddle of blood. Next he came to the cockpit, where his old buddy, Aarol, stared up at the ceiling with a blank, dead gaze.
Seeing him here, Triston’s gut clenched. Of course it was horrible to see the man dead, but worse than that, Aarol had been assigned to fly with Enise, Triston’s ex. The one woman he had never truly gotten over. The one who got away, he liked to think when that stupid oldies song came on.
So it was that he turned to the pilot seat with great trepidation, and froze when he saw no helmet, just a bun of blonde hair, her head pressed up against the bulkhead.
There was nothing that he wanted to see less than the same, dead look in her eyes. But he had to know.
“Enise,” he said, hoping beyond hope, and stepped forward, pulling off his helmet completely as he did so.
Her eyes were closed. How many times had he lain with her back at the space
station, staring into her face as she slept after an intimate evening? Back then, he had still imagined he would grow old with her, maybe raise a family together. Then had come the day when she told him she had no intention of ever raising a family, that she meant to give her life to the Marines, dedicating herself to space exploration and ensuring the people of Earth had other planets to expand into.
The whole discussion had been infuriating, and when he asked where that left them, she had reached down, taken him in her hands, and said that they were exactly where they were meant to be.
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he had said, not wanting to lose his temper in the face of the ecstasy of her touch.
“Means we can do this every chance we get,” she had replied, moving herself onto him, breath warm on his neck. “Means we work hard out there, then play hard in here.”
He still hated himself for what had come next, but he had pushed her off and turned away from her, shaking his head as he said, “No.”
“No? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He had stood, found his clothes, and begun to dress as he replied, “Means that’s not enough for me. I want you, but I want all of you. When you’re ready for a grownup relationship, you know where to find me.”
Then he had left, and it was over. Every night he had waited, every time he passed her in the halls or at training, he glanced over, hoping to see a change in her expression. But none had come.
And now… this. He pulled off his helmet and bowed his head, about to close his eyes when—
A flitter of her eyelids startled him and he fell back, pressed up against Aarol’s dead corpse. Then she was looking up at him with relief and worry.
“You… how?” she asked, and then coughed up blood.
“No,” he said, knowing what that meant. He knelt at her side, searching for the wound, and then found it. Her armor had bent in the collision, he imagined, because now it was pressing into her, more than her body could handle. Apparently, it wasn’t as protective as they liked to believe.
“Where… are the others?” she asked, unable to move her head, but eyes rolling to follow him as he stood, backing away.
The situation took him a moment to process, but then he was at her side again, and he shook off the armored gloves so that he could hold her face in his hands.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “But... they’re gone. Everyone’s gone.”
“We saw the escape pod…. Thought it might be you, so followed.” She bit her lip, eyes glimmering, moist. “You… don’t give up.”
“And you either!” he demanded, kissing her forehead. “I… I never stopped loving you.”
She smiled at that, the type of smile someone gives right before they fall asleep. Only, with her, she was never going to wake from this sleep.
“I loved you too, you know,” she replied. “In my own way… and still do.”
She coughed once more, breathed heavily, and then… was done. Dead. Leaving him to shout and hold her close, then punch the control panel with all his might. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t wearing gloves, and instantly regretted that outburst. Pulling his hand back, he held it tight, biting his knuckle at the pain—both physically, and to keep himself from losing it emotionally.
Shit, he was a Marine. A Space Marine, no less. The best of the best.
He wasn’t about to go all emotional on some alien planet. He had just discovered an inhabitable environment—the holy grail, basically. If he didn’t get the news back home, that would have meant the others had all died for nothing.
So he pulled himself together, closed Enise’s eyes, and put his helmet and gloves back on. A groan sounded from behind. He turned to see
The other two members of the flight team, slumped over in their seats with blood dripping down their faces. The hollow look in one of their eyes showed he was dead, but the other man was staring at him, eyes wide.
“Helms, is that you?” the man said. “My… my legs.”
Triston ran over, checking the man and cringing at the sight of part of the ship, broken off and sticking into the man’s right thigh. A puddle of blood was forming, out of sight of the man. “Stan, right? Stanley Ortiz?”
The man nodded.
“Stan, I’m going to get you out of here. Just… stay put.”
“Where’re you going?”
Triston looked to the windows, considering the options here. “I’m going to see if we can find other survivors, a comm device that works. Get you out of here.”
“Don’t leave me,” Stan pleaded.
After a moment’s consideration, Triston nodded. “Okay, buddy. Let’s see what we can do here.”
The first move was to find the ship’s first aid kit. He found the morphine, then shot it into Stan. Next came the tissue gun.
“Get ready, this’ll hurt like hell,” he said, then pulled the leg free from the ship. Stan screamed with pain as blood spurted, but Triston was ready. He jammed the tissue gun into the opening and pulled the trigger, filling it so that the bleeding stopped immediately. It would swell, possibly become infected, but he wouldn’t die from it today.
Just one more reason to hurry up and get them off of this place.
As Stan sat back, controlling his breathing and letting the morphine kick in, Triston moved around the ship, preparing to take off. He checked the equipment but got nothing out of it. The ship had apparently been destroyed in the fall, to the point that it was useless. Next he considered other options, the beacon others would be able to use to find them…. But who knew how long that could take. If he could find other ships, if they had survived intact, he could try to fly out of here or at least send a proper message home. Not knowing how to fly made that prospect less likely, but he at least knew enough about the process to give it a try.
While exploring, he figured he might be able to learn more about this land.
His first move was to stock up on supplies. Food and water were priorities, but he also strapped on two blaster pistols, the rifle, a Ka-Bar knife, and he even found an old school rifle that used actual bullets. Then he had an idea—his own thrusters were fried, but it was likely Aarol’s weren’t. He spent a few minutes switching them out, and then steeled his nerves, glancing through the front display at the jungle ahead of him.
Who knew what he could get into out there?
“How you holding up, Stan?” he asked, putting his helmet back on before going outside. He moved for the rear of the ship. Here he listened to see if any sounds came from outside, and considered where he would start. If he could make it to the top of the cliffs, where the waterfall originated, he could get a damn good view of this place.
“Stan?” He glanced back to see Stan undoing his harness, and trying to stand. The man nearly fell over, so Triston darted back over to grab him. With a hand around him to help him move, he said, “Rely on the exoskeleton, the suit. Try not to put any excess pressure on the wound.”
“Roger that,” Stan said, leaning with one hand at the side of the doorway.
With a few whispers of “Shit, shit, shit,” Triston nodded, opening the door. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and then they ran for it.
The moment of regret came almost immediately, as those damn raptor aliens appeared, one leaping from a tree, two more darting out of the bushes. They moved for Stan, as if sensing his weakness. Triston pulled out his blasters and turned them into fricassee, but not before one had latched onto Stan’s throat, pulling hard. As Triston blasted it in half, Stan took a step back, blood seeping from his neck, and he took one wrong step. With a shriek of terror, he was over the side of the hill, falling. The rocks at the bottom killed him, though there wasn’t much doubt the wound on his neck would have done it anyway.
Triston cursed, kicking open air, and turned with blasters raised, searching for more of them to kill. Hoping for more of them to kill. But there weren’t any.
So he ran.
It was a relief to find that the thrusters
worked, as he used them immediately to reach the next ledge up. Better to move on before more predators arrived, no matter how badly he wanted revenge.
The thrusters gave out at the last moment, but he landed smoothly. He broke into a run, finding a part of the hill that led up and into a steep incline, tall trees and large leaves blocking out the sky and the orange light that glowed across it all.
Dammit, how could that have happened to Stan? The guy had been a jerk at times back in training, always the one to try and towel-snap the other guys sacks in the showers and stupid stuff like that, but on the field? When it came to training and killing, he had so many times performed with the best of them, never letting a teammate down. If he hadn’t made it, Triston wondered what chances there were for himself.
But he pushed on, refusing to let the negativity wear him down. People had died, that was that. He needed to focus on the next move. One step at a time.
He marveled, for a moment, when he came to a clearing and paused to catch his breath. The way the sky seemed permanently stuck in that orange hue, with the small sun out there, almost a dot in the sky, but still apparently enough to keep all of this vegetation alive.
A leaf moved and he cursed, wishing he had more time to keep still, but knowing he had to keep moving.
Even before he had taken his third step, however, those creatures were on his trail again, ducking in and out of the path he had created, leaping from tree to tree. Up ahead, he spotted the cave.
It was a large opening, back behind the foliage and overgrowth, and when he turned to the other hills he imagined the dark spots on those hills might be other caves.
He had an option here—turn and fight these little bastards, hoping their claws didn’t stand a chance against his armor, or escape into the cave. Part of him thought that the idea might be suicide, cornering himself like that. And even worse, what if the caves were where those things lived, and he was simply throwing himself to their mercy?
The Marine in him, however, said that it would be good to have a wall to his back, so they couldn’t surround him.
