by Isaac Hooke
It was enough.
The giant worm glanced off the carbon fiber cord and slid past.
“Next slug!” Rade said. He released the creature and jetted back toward the surface, heading for the following gargantuan. Meanwhile the first continued on into deep space; it dragged the dead weight of a hundred lifeless crabs along behind it via the trailing umbilicals. Some of those dead crabs bounced off the carbon fiber tether as they passed, but so far the line held. Rade had to dodge between some of those umbilicals and crabs himself as he jetted toward the remaining creature.
“We’re not going to make it,” Surus said.
She was right. The Hoplites were about three seconds out from the next slug. And the big creature was maybe a second from reaching the carbon fiber cord below them. It’s body phased into existence in anticipation of the impact.
Several bright flashes filled Rade’s vision. They emanated from the top right half of the slug.
“Hellfires,” Surus said.
Rade realized that missiles had indeed struck the slug with enough intensity to alter its course. The alien missed the tether with room to spare, and the trailing crab corpses it brought with it bounced from the cord in turn.
The slug squirmed back and forth, reminding Rade of the frantic movements of a caterpillar dropped onto a hot stove. That was the alien’s death throes, apparently, because it soon stopped moving, and simply drifted away with its load of crab corpses. Rade saw that a big chunk had been taken out of its right side. As he watched, the creature permanently vanished, leaving behind the dead crabs and their umbilicals.
“Snakeoil, you son of bitch you!” Bender said. “Stealin’ our kills!”
“Thank me later,” Snakeoil said over the comm.
Rade and the others landed at the harpoon site and resumed their defensive positions. The landscape was mostly clear of crabs now, so he could see all the way to the crevice again. There were a few crabs whose tethers had broken, and they floated at different heights from the surface.
Rade checked the map and saw that Tahoe had similarly faced two slugs. One squirmed as it floated off into space, futilely trying to return. There was no sign of the other, but the dead crabs floating away from the asteroid with their umbilicals connected to empty space told him that either the Motley Brown or T2 had killed it.
“Well, notwithstanding the fact Snakeoil stole our kill, that was one nasty snake,” Bender said.
“That’s what I say whenever I glimpse yours,” Manic said over the comm from T2.
“There were two,” Harlequin said. “So technically, you should have said snakes.”
“Bender has two snakes?” Manic said. “How would you know?”
“That’s because Harlequin has two pussies,” Bender said.
“Did we ever find out why slugs disappear when they die and crabs don’t?” Shaw asked.
“Maybe Surus can tell us,” Lui transmitted.
Surus didn’t answer.
“Thanks for the air support back there, Snakeoil,” Rade said. Space support was probably the better term, but Snakeoil wouldn’t have made an issue of semantics. “One question: why didn’t you move the ship closer when I asked?”
“I actually did,” Snakeoil said. “But it was obvious based on your actions that you didn’t hear our reply. I’m guessing we passed through a bubble of higher solar wind density, and it interfered with the comms. It happens.”
“Or Zhidao actively jammed our signal at that moment,” Rade said.
“Maybe,” Snakeoil said. “But why not do so from the beginning of the battle?”
“I don’t know,” Rade said. “Zhidao is unpredictable. Maybe he didn’t want us to know he had the capability. There could be tech embedded on the surface, or low-power drones up there that you’re not seeing.”
“I still think it was a bubble,” Snakeoil said.
The team remained in place for the next six hours, but no further attacks came. With the asteroid safely moved out of the way, the Hoplites dislodged the carbon fiber cords and hung onto the line as the Motley Brown reeled them in.
“Well that’s another asteroid down,” TJ said. “One more to go!”
They returned to the mech hangar bay to stock up on grenades and jumpjet fuel, and then waited in the bay for Snakeoil to confirm they were needed on the final rock.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Snakeoil said over the comm shortly. “Looks like only one of the harpoon sites will need to be guarded. But, unfortunately, you’ll be surrounded by crevices on all sides, ranging from a hundred meters to a kilometer away. So it won’t be the easiest to protect. I will be offering the full support of the Motley Brown from above, of course.”
“How many Hellfires do you have left?” Rade asked.
“Yeah, we’re running low,” Snakeoil said. “Six. So preferably I’d like to save them for any of the bigger aliens you might encounter.”
“How about those explosive slugs you have for the mag-rails?” Rade asked.
“Those are running low, too,” Snakeoil replied. “But we can probably use them against the crabs, since they have little effect on the slugs.”
“And how much time until the asteroid hits the planet?” Rade said.
“Nine hours,” Snakeoil said. “So we’re slightly ahead of schedule.”
“Nine hours,” Rade said. “You were right about cutting it close. That leaves little margin for error. We can’t screw this one up.”
“No, we can’t,” Snakeoil agreed. “It’s the biggest asteroid yet. I don’t need to tell you that the population will still go extinct if this one hits. It might take a little longer, but there will still be enough matter spewed into the atmosphere to blot out the sun for centuries to come.” He paused. “Okay, just got some news. Another mystery has been solved. One of the scouts finally reported in. Apparently, the Volare is located deep inside the last asteroid.”
“Where exactly?” Rade asked. “Near where we’ll be dropping? Can we get to it from any of the surrounding crevices?”
“No,” Snakeoil said. “Or actually, I don’t know. The crevices around the harpoon site are all black, unmapped fog of war areas. See, the scout didn’t map the tunnels completely, because of my standing order that it turn back upon sighting anything dangerous—the Volare was included in that assessment. But it’s possible the tunnels from the surrounding crevices near the drop site will in fact lead to the ship. I just don’t know. I’m sending you the map data now.”
Rade accepted the sharing request and glanced at the map. Sure enough, a labyrinth underneath the surface was displayed, though there were large dark sections, including the site where he would be landing. At the bottom of the mapped area was a red dot representing the Volare.
“Can we send the drone back in to complete the map?” Rade asked. “Starting with the crevices near the drop site?”
“And risk losing it? You know how expensive these drones are, right?” Snakeoil said.
“Surus will pay for it,” Rade said.
Snakeoil sighed. “I’ll send it in.”
“Any concentrations of slugs and crabs detected in any of the mapped areas?” Rade asked.
“No,” Snakeoil replied.
“I’m assuming we can’t be sure Zhidao didn’t capture your drone and spoof the data?” Rade pressed.
“No, we can’t.”
“I wonder if we can fire a Hellfire down there, and disable the Volare…” Rade said.
“Maggot tells me the tracking mechanisms aren’t fine-grained enough to guide the missiles very far within those cramped confines,” Snakeoil said. “They’ll detonate shortly after passing inside. Wasting all the money I spent on them.”
“I could go inside and personally deal with Zhidao,” Surus said.
“We can’t let you go alone,” Rade said. “Not after what happened to you last time.”
“Probably a good idea…” Surus agreed.
A few minutes later Snakeoil reported back.
&nbs
p; “Okay, the scout just went offline,” Snakeoil said. “And this is before it left communications range. Now you see why I didn’t want to send it into the crevices near the drop site?”
“Well, at least we know there’s something waiting for us there,” Rade said. “So let’s move to another site.”
“We’ll make some adjustments, but there will still be unmapped crevices in the new area,” Snakeoil said.
“Then use the smaller HS3s to fill out the map,” Rade said.
“No,” Snakeoil said. “I’ve lost enough scouts for the time being. I’d prefer to keep the HS3s strictly in a support role. They’ll join you when you go down, as usual. We’ll just have to assume you’ll face similar resistance as the last asteroid. Get yourselves prepped for launch. Harpoons are connecting shortly.”
“So here we go, leaping into a battle without proper Intel once again,” Fret said. “Story of my life.”
“Would it matter if we had proper Intel?” TJ said. “Even if there were a hundred slugs down there, we would still go.”
“I suppose we would, at that,” Fret said. “It’s our duty. A billion lives at stake. Still, it would be nice to know.”
“I’d rather not know,” Shaw said. “If I’m going to die today, I don’t want to know.”
Rade switched to a private line. “You’re not going to die today.”
“Thanks,” Shaw said. “I might have been being a little melodramatic.”
“As usual,” Rade said.
“And neither are you, by the way,” Shaw said. “Going to die, I mean.”
“Of course,” Rade said.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Shaw said.
“You always do,” Rade said. “Have I let you down yet?”
The hangar bay opened and they leaped one by one into the zero G environment outside, and jetted down toward the next asteroid.
Rade fired his aerospike thrusters to slow his approach and landed softly, activating the magnets in the feet of his Hoplite to secure him to the surface.
“Deploy, defensive formation Cigar, centered around the harpoon,” Rade ordered. “Magnetic mounts active.”
The ten Hoplite team deployed in an elliptical “cigar” around the grappler site to watch the crevices that opened up on all sides. On the plus side, at least they only had to protect one site this time, instead of two. Still, Rade wasn’t happy that Maggot and the ops specialist had insisted on placing that site so close to so many crevices, but “physics can’t be denied,” to quote the AI. Rade had double-checked the locations himself, and had Bender and TJ do the same, but the math was correct. Sixty percent of the asteroid was covered in those crevices—there really were no other feasible sites.
“Our prey is here somewhere,” Surus announced. “I sense him.”
“So he hasn’t yet abandoned the Volare,” Rade said.
“Maybe he means to ride the asteroid all the way down to the surface,” Tahoe said.
“It’s possible,” Rade said. “Though I still think he’ll try to escape at some point.”
“And when he does, the Motley Brown will shoot him down,” Snakeoil transmitted.
“More likely he’ll try to take over the Motley Brown,” Lui said. “That’s been his modus operandi so far.”
“I’ve taken all your warnings to heart,” Snakeoil said. “He won’t get my ship.”
The HS3s deployed overhead, giving a birds-eye view of the crevices via their LIDAR. Empty, so far.
After the first hour, with the team getting antsy, Rade sent Harlequin and TJ to scout out the surrounding crevices, giving them permission to jet their Hoplite’s inside a short distance. Neither one of them discovered any signs of the alien creatures. But that did little to set Rade at ease. Nor the rest of the team, judging from the banter between Bender and Manic.
“Hey Manic, buddy, there’s something different about you today, but I can’t quite place it,” Bender said over the comm.
“Uh huh,” Manic said.
“Wait, I know,” Bender said. “Let’s see… did you shave your pussy?”
“Yeah man, I shaved my pussy…” Manic said.
“I knew you had a pussy!” Bender said. “And you take craps with it, too, right?”
“Yup, it’s multi-function,” Manic said. “Wanna try it out later?”
“Yeah, we’ll get Fret to do it,” Bender said. “I’m going to direct you two in a porn movie. He’s so tall, he makes you look like a midget. I’ll put a fluffy tail on you, and maybe some ears and whiskers, and then we can call the movie The Littlest Pussy: a love story about a man and his cat.”
“That’s a movie I would pay to see,” TJ said. “Mambo Italiano!”
“Getting your muscles all riled up inside your suit, am I, TJ?” Bender said.
The LIDAR alert on one of the HS3s chimed.
“We got incoming,” Lui said. “And it’s big.”
twenty
Rade glanced at the LIDAR feeds.
“I don’t see it,” he said. The tunnels inside the crevices appeared empty.
“The tango was just there,” Lui said. “It must have retreated.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a glitch?” Fret asked.
“HS3s don’t glitch,” Lui said. “At least, rarely.”
“Lui’s right,” TJ said. “I rewound the feed. There’s definitely something down there. And it’s big.”
Rade replayed the last few seconds of the feed himself. A large shape appeared at the far end of the tunnel, plugging it, before vanishing, probably through a side tunnel.
“Send the closer HS3 to the crevice in question,” Rade said. “See if we can get a bead on that side tunnel the tango vanished inside.”
“Sending in the HS3,” TJ said.
Rade felt the asteroid shaking underneath him. And then he suddenly understood where the tango had gone off to. “It’s a burrower! Get airborne and scatter! Now!”
Rade deactivated his magnetic mounts and pushed off from the surface just as the ground collapsed underneath him. He fired his jumpjets, veering off in a random direction away from the target site. He engaged side thrust to rotate his body toward the caving grappler site while he continued to accelerate away.
A huge slug burst from the sinkhole, its skin white hot. Hundreds of crabs clung to its upper flanks, the cords that linked them to the host tightly wound beneath them.
“There goes our grappler,” Fret said.
“Bitches are getting smart,” Bender said.
The slug halted its forward motion before it emerged entirely from the new hole it had dug, the transversal muscles rippling underneath its black skin. Then it began to retreat.
“Snakeoil!” Rade sent.
“Already on it,” Snakeoil replied.
Missiles rained down on the slug, and it flailed about under the impacts.
Debris consisting of crystallized black blood, chunks of meat, and rocks floated all around the creature.
“Open fire!” Rade said. “Target the wounds!”
Rade accelerated toward the creature, and fired his cobras into the gaping wounds the missiles had caused. The creature flailed about even harder for a few moments; the crabs connected to it leaped forth, umbilicals unwinding behind them, jumping out at the incoming Hoplites.
Three of those crabs were headed straight toward Rade, but they reached the limits of their umbilicals at the last moment, and were jerked backward by the frictionless recoil. Rade severed the three tethers with cobra fire.
The slug ceased moving a moment later. Its upper body, half a kilometer long, simply floated there, halfway out of the tunnel. All of the tethered crabs drifted lifelessly around it as well, joining the debris field of meat and rocks.
“So is it dead yet?” Fret asked.
“It can’t be, or it would have disappeared,” Tahoe said.
“Maybe they don’t all disappear,” Shaw said. “It has to be dead. The crabs stopped moving.”
“Burrowers don’t alw
ays vanish from this reality immediately when they die,” Surus said. “It can take up to an hour.”
“All right, well, no point in wasting more missiles, Snakeoil,” Rade said. “This grappling site is already lost. We’re going to have to move to a new location.”
“Maggot tells me we can tether the harpoon anywhere within a one kilometer radius,” Snakeoil said.
That close? Rade thought.
“All right, Argonauts, you heard the man,” Rade said. “Let’s get this grappler moved.”
“Got tangos!” TJ said. “One of the crevices!”
“It’s our stolen Hoplites!” Lui said. “They’re firing cobras!”
“Deploy ballistic shields!” Rade said. “Take cover!”
Rade deployed his shield in his left arm and jetted toward the debris field circling the slug. He dove behind a large boulder that had dislodged from the surface.
“The enemy Hoplites took out our HS3s,” Harlequin said.
“Electron, try to initiate comms,” Rade told his AI.
“Trying,” Electron said.
On Rade’s overhead map, red dots had appeared inside two of the crevices bordering the grappler site. He slid his cobra past the edge and switched to the viewpoint of the big laser. He zoomed in on one of those crevices with his targeting reticle and moved the crosshairs from left to right.
“No answer to tap in requests,” Electron said.
Rade spotted a cobra laser aimed over the lip. Rade centered his reticle over the weapon and squeezed the trigger.
The opponent pulled its cobra from view
“I got one Hellfire left,” Snakeoil said. “Do you want me to fire?”
“Harlequin, is there any chance we can salvage their AIs?” Rade asked.
“There is always a chance,” Harlequin said. “But I believe, in this case, it is low.”
Rade made his choice. “Snakeoil, fire the Hellfire.”
“Wait, they’re retreating!” Tahoe said.
“Hold, Snakeoil,” Rade sent. “You launch now, you waste the Hellfire.”
“We can’t let them go,” Lui said. “Otherwise, they’ll simply attack our new site. Probably target the cord. A well-placed cobra shot could easily sever the carbon fiber, especially considering how much stress the tether is under.”
