by Shuvom Ghose
The squad laughed, ready to go. Then Juan's eyes got big. "Shit!" he cried, reaching into his pocket to shut off his phone. "Sorry sir!"
I sighed and rubbed my face. "Grim, are our implants activated?" Grimstone hit some buttons on the device he carried, then gave me the thumbs up. "Check check implants check," I said, speaking into the mike clipped to the collar of my fatigues in a normal voice. Grimstone was still giving me the thumbs up. I took ten steps back and whispered into my mike, "Zazlu's mother was a grilled cheese sandwich."
"Hey!"
"Alright, mount up!" I laughed, turning. I motioned to the guards and the twenty-foot tall steel gate in the security wall started cranking open. And with a wave of my arm, we were off. It was a good feeling.
Even 'impassible' trails on Earth are somewhat friendly to Earth creatures. They have a logic to them, an Earth logic. Here, everything was wrong.
If the tree branch wasn't too small to hold you or too prickly to touch, it was too large to grab with one hand. If the rocks weren't flaky or too slippery to walk on, they were at the wrong angle for your boots. Mud puddles that looked ankle deep were knee swallowing traps. You couldn't squeeze between the trees- they grew at weird intervals and we were always walking around them. Even in the cleared area in front of the gates, strange alien roots grew up to catch your boots or make holes to twist your ankle in. In short, I'm saying we made horrible time.
The day was getting hotter when I signaled for a break an hour later, at the foothills of the Night Hunting Grounds mountain. The squad all took a knee in the shadows, as I ordered. Zazlu came up to my shady spot, panting and drenched in sweat.
"Sir? Any way we can go a little slower for the next hour? For those still in our old bodies?"
"You know, I hadn't wanted to say it, Zaz. But this body... I feel like I could run flat out for another hour!"
"Well, I can't," he panted. "Grim's looking pretty toasted too."
I looked over. Our tech expert was collapsed on his back, tongue hanging out. Butcher was pouring water on his head, while marshaling a panting Juan into the shadows. "Ann-Marie's not having a problem."
"Well, in my next life," Zaz gasped between breaths, "maybe I'll play a real sport like women's college soccer."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Zaz," Ann-Marie whispered, the radio implants carrying her soft words to us from twenty meters away. She was barely sweating, like me. "Grown men groping each other in tights is a real sport too."
"Grappling," he panted. "It's called grappling, not groping."
The exhausted Juan resisted her efforts to move him deeper into the shadows. "Why do you keep pushing me into the shade all the time?"
"A psychic hell-spider told the First Lieu it was a good idea."
"Just once Butcher, I want to get a straight answer out of you," he complained, but did move into a darker spot.
"Quiet!" I hissed. "All of you! Right down that slope are hundreds of spiders waiting to rush up and eat your brains at the slightest noise. Five more minutes rest and we move out." I turned to my second. "Zaz, point taken. I'll slow the pace from here out." He nodded and went to throw up in peace.
The squad sweated in silence, their heavy panting occasionally tricking the mikes into transmitting like we were talking. Ann-Marie picked her way toward me, staying in the darkest shade at all times.
Next to me, she extended the arm of her camouflaged fatigues into the light for just a second. In the direct alien sun, our camo pattern glowed with a yellow hue I had never noticed before. It was green like the forest, yes, but our yellow tint would make it MORE visible at a distance than not. She pulled back into the bluish-tinted shade and became hidden again. Then Ann-Marie pointed silently out at the wide valley stretching below us, the valley we had just circled a third of a mountain from our base to see. A valley which could see anything on this side of the mountain. The valley were the Hell-Spiders theoretically lived.
"So it looks like our intel was good, huh?" I whispered, hand over my mike.
She nodded. "Or it's luring us quietly into an ambush."
"There is that. But we can't turn back now."
I gave everyone six minutes instead of five, then growled into my mike. "Everyone up! Moving out. And keep your eyes open, we're getting closer!"
It did get more claustrophobic from here up, the rocks and dense bush barely letting us see past the next bend. I had a gnawing, growing feeling that Ann-Marie was right. I fought not to fire at every wind-blown branch as Zazlu lead us by GPS deeper and deeper into perfect ambush country, to the Immortal's patrol's last known position.
We were 90 minutes behind schedule, sweat pouring off of all of us, except the glistening Ann-Marie, when Zazlu held his fist up, indicating a tactical stop. We crouched and readied our weapons. Zazlu was looking down his rifle barrel at something intently, finger on his trigger. Then he relaxed and stood up, waving us forward.
The Hell-Spider looked alive, crouching behind a tree. But a second glance showed the part of his head hidden by the tree was blown away, blue blood soaking the ground around it. The squad pulled up to look at it.
"Well, I guess we know they don't bury their dead," Grimstone said.
"Or enjoy bullets," Steve said, inspecting the head trauma. "It took a lot of bullets, though. At close range."
"The close range wasn't part of the plan," Zazlu said, lifting a large leafy branch to reveal a dead, gutted Immortal soldier hidden under it. He still had his rifle, all ammo, and all grenades. I looked at Ann-Marie.
"Surprise attack. Rest of squad couldn't come back for his weapons."
She nodded.
"And he's the First Lieutenant," Zazlu added. "Hector. Probably didn't give many orders after first contact."
"Look around," I whispered into my mike. "Look for other clues. But stay with a buddy, and stay sharp."
We found a second Hell-Spider body further on, legs and half its thorax grenaded off. And bullet wounds all through it.
"Squad in good firing formation," I said. "Maybe only ten seconds later, but either their Second Lieu or Ridley had taken charge by now. They were ready for this one."
"And this one," Ann-Marie said, pointing out a third dead spider in line with the first. Then she pointed at a separate blue blood stain on the ground, lacking a corresponding spider body. "But not this one."
"Or this one," Zazlu agreed. He pointed at nothing but a deep, fresh claw mark in a rock. "Or these." Enough claw marks for ten charging adult Hell-Spiders.
I took a good look at the terrain, the trees, the rocks, the slope. What would First Lieutenant Ridley have done? What would anyone have done?
"Higher," I said. "They would have fallen back up the slope. Let's go."
We followed the trail of claw marks, blue blood, shell casings, then red blood and bodies up the side of the mountain. Bullet holes always told a story, and this story wasn't pretty.
Yes, there were spider bodies. But the squad was losing bodies too, choosing offense over defense when the chance presented itself for kills.
"Ridley would never have done this," I said, shaking my head. "It's a waste, a war of attrition that we'd lose. Their Second Lieu Samson had to have been in charge."
"He was, up until now," Steve said quietly into his mike. I could see him looking at another two gutted, dismembered clone bodies about twenty feet away. I looked at Ann-Marie.
"So Ridley's down to what, five grunts now? He takes command. What would he have done?"
She nodded even higher up the slope, and I agreed.
The heat was really pouring on us now as we broke tree cover, climbing and climbing the mountain. Now there were only spider bodies, very few bullet casings, and only grenade damage.
"No turning back to fire," I said. "Ridley was having them toss grenades behind them. Smart retreat."
We continued higher up the mountain. Now the damn root holes were everywhere, one of the squad would drop their foot in one and quietly curse every minute or so. And the
n we saw it.
A crag of car-sized rocks, with a clear field of view in front of it. Not the highest point on the mountain, but on the ridge leading there.
"That's a last stand spot if I've ever seen one," Ann-Marie said.
"There are certainly enough spider bodies in front of it," Zazlu added.
I nodded. "Let's go see if our First Lieu's up there."
As we climbed the last hundred meters, the air had gotten noticeably hotter and more humid. And there was a quiet hissing I heard off and on, but that went away if I stopped to listen for it.
"Sir," Ann-Marie whispered to me. "Look at the time."
"I know, I know."
"We've got to go before-"
"I know!"
"Have we got somewhere to be?" Zazlu asked, twenty yards ahead.
"Damn implants," I said. "We'll explain later, Zaz. See anything up there?"
"Everything," he replied.
And it was true. Spider bodies, with bullet holes in them, two, three in a row. A mass charge, met with accurate fire. And another row, on the other side. An attempted flanking maneuver. I looked the scene over.
"Zaz, did the Immortals you interviewed say anything about making a glorious last stand inside a bunker?"
"They did."
I pointed. "Then why are their bodies out in front of it?"
Three bodies lay twenty feet in front of the bunker. Well, parts of them. The parts that the grenades hadn't incinerated. Spider parts were tangled into the bloody, charred mix as well.
"A suicide charge," Ann-Marie spat. "Stupid."
I nodded. "Buffering bands will do that. Grim, can you see if these all transmitted well?"
He pulled out some fancy looking electronic gear, checked the bands around the decapitated heads. The lights on the bands glowed warning red, spent. "They're fine," Grimmy said. "All transmitted at 1053 Zulu. One message, signal received."
"And the ones farther down the slope?"
"They transmitted at 1041."
I frowned. "We climbed the same distance in five minutes. And I imagine a pack of Hell-Spiders behind you would make the climb go somewhat faster. But that short a fire-fight? In a strong defensive position that's easy to extract from?"
"Ain't no thoughts of extracting, sir," Juan whispered into his mike, standing at the crag of rocks. "There's so many casings in here, these mo-fos were on full auto. Blasting away. And the Lieutenant's up here, too."
The whole squad climbed around to see, standing around or on the car-sized rocks and looking down at the natural bunker inside. And the body. He had his knife in one dismembered arm, a shattered rifle in the other. And blood everywhere else.
"Steve," I whispered. "What did that?"
Even the medic looked a little sick, but stepped into the bunker to check the bloody mess. He tried not to step on anything that had once been Ridley, but it was almost impossible. He bent closer to look. "Claws. A lot of them."
"Any bullet holes?" All of them turned to me, shocked, but I didn't flinch. I had been thinking about it for a long time. "It had to be said."
Zazlu ground his teeth. "If those Immortal bastards..."
Steve was doing a deeper inspection. "No, not that I can see. But there's SO much flesh missing... still... no. No foul play."
"Except the guys watching the Lieutenant's back decided to Pickett's Charge themselves," Ann-Marie said. "Leaving him exposed."
"Grim," I ordered, "inspect Ridley's band. Then we'll take his body back for burial."
As the tech reluctantly stepped into the bloody mess that Steve was vacating, I walked away to look at the scene again. That hissing had gotten a little louder, but I still couldn't find its source. Ann-Marie came up, pulled on my sleeve and covered her mike with her hand. "Sir. Time. There's no taking him back."
"Then we'll bury him here!" I hissed.
"Sir, it's almost noon. I don't know what scares a Hell-Spider, but I don't want to see it," she whispered, barely audible.
"Is there something happening at noon that the rest of us should know about?" Zazlu said, loudly and clearly, from twenty feet away where he was using his K-knife to saw through a Hell-Spider neck.
I looked down and cursed. Ann-Marie had covered her mike, but not mine. I turned to face the squad. "Shit. Okay, Grim, keep working while I have a talk with Zazlu. Juan you keep... what are you doing?"
Zazlu pulled the dead Hell-Spider's head off its bullet-riddled body with satisfaction, then started tying the bloody, TV-sized prize over his pack. Juan was halfway to doing the same. "General said he wanted skulls," Zazlu replied. "He didn't say where from."
I shook my head. "Fine. That will work. But come here a second."
Zazlu trotted over to where Butcher and were, and I made sure to cover his mike and mine. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this mountain. Or the three of us. But..." I sighed. "The Hell-Spiders can talk. Telepathically. In English." Zazlu was frowning. "And the one I captured told me it would be safe to come back to this mountain, as long as we left by noon." I thought a little harder. "Actually, 'well before noon' is what he said."
The hissing was noticeable now. And it didn't go away when I turned my head.
"Everyone else hears that, right?" Steve asked.
"Squad, prepare to haul ass! Grim, report!"
The tech popped out of the bunker. "It's strange sir. The time code meta data says one thing but the-"
"Just grab the band, Private!" Ann-Marie barked. "Sir, we've got to go!"
I looked. The grasses around the tree line were rustling. All around us. Juan had the second head on his back, Grim popped out of the bunker with Ridley's band in his hand.
"Down the ridgeline!" I ordered, leading us down the hopefully quicker, if more exposed, path back to base. "Stay in the open until we can see them!"
The squad fell in behind me, running haphazardly down the treacherous rocks. It was not a good feeling.
The rustling followed us on both sides and behind, and it wasn't until we came across a long barren patch that we saw them. Snakes. Hundreds of them. And more pouring out of those root holes every minute to join them.
The ones coming out of the holes moved slowly, sluggishly. But as they got some of the baking sun, they moved faster, following us like river water around rocks.
"Cold blooded," Zazlu panted, trying to keep up with the group. "Like on Earth!"
Ann-Marie with her nimble, untiring legs was at point. Juan with his long ones was second, even with the spider head on his back. Zazlu, Steve and Grimmy were lagging, even as I brought up the rear, prodding them faster. This wasn't going to work.
And then one of the snakes snapped out like lightning and bit Steve in the calf.
"Owww! Damn it!" he cried, starting to hobble.
"NO! Faster!" I yelled. "Grim! Zaz! Carry him!" They pulled his arms over their shoulders on the fly and kept going as I started to fire my rifle at the snake pack. "Weapons free! Fire but keep moving!"
Bullets weren't super helpful against the quick, flowing shapes the thickness of garden hoses. The snakes seemed unimpressed by the firepower we unleashed, pressing in even closer on all sides as we struggled to keep running.
"Grenades!" I yelled. "Grenades!"
These were effective. Huge gaps opened in the surrounding swarm, snake bits flipping high into the air with each explosion. But the gaps were filled quickly as more snakes poured from the holes as we descended the mountain. It was a little cooler under the tree cover, but the new snakes were warming fast.
I keyed my mike to the base frequency.
"Fire control! Fire control! This is Infinity Squad Actual! We need support!"
"Roger, Infinity Squad," a bored voice said from the other end. "This is Fire Control. We are triangulating your position now. There we go... just another few seconds now... got it. We are ready to fire. Are all of your squad's buffering bands green?"
I checked quickly. "Yes they ar- DO NOT FIRE DIRECTLY ON OUR POSITION! REPEAT! Fire ONLY on t
he enemy, behind us!"
There was a confused few seconds on the other end as we continued to run, hopping small streams and rocks. Zazlu and Grim were still three-legged-racing with Steve in between them. I tried firing my rifle on the snake pack again with little effect. They were snapping at my heels now.
"You seem to be moving a quite a speed," Fire Control finally said into my ear. "And not in a straight line. It's tough to place an accurate rolling barrage in that case."
"Nothing in this jungle is in a straight line! Fire anyway! Behind us!"
"Roger," the dispirited voice said. "Test barrage, coming up."
Off in the distance, drums boomed. Thirty seconds later, a group of huge explosions ripped up trees and dirt where we had been forty seconds ago. And killed maybe the five slowest, dumbest snakes in the pack.
"Closer! You've got to fire closer to our position!" I yelled, using my hot rifle tip to knock away a snake that lunged for my ankle as I passed.
"That's going to be tough, Infinity actual. We'll need some sort of stationary point to target."
Shit. Shit. Shit. This was going to hurt. A lot.
"Prepare to fire on ONLY my radio position," I said, then switched to the squad frequency. "Everyone, throw grenades on three! Zazlu! Get them back to base safely!"
To his credit, Zazlu kept running as he asked, "Sir? What?"
"Just get them back! One! Two! Three!"
Grenades arced out to all sides of us, and the explosions bought us a little space. I stopped, turned 180, and started running back into the snake pack. "Fire Control! Barrage on me! NOW!"
As I hoped, most of the snakes followed me. As I hadn't hoped, they started biting me immediately. I got one or two with my swinging rifle but the others wove right past and sunk fangs into my knees and thighs. Each bite burned like a cattle prod.
"Sir! No!" someone yelled. But I was too busy swinging my rifle like a club at the snakes lunging at my head, neck and eyes. I felt bites all along my spine. Then I heard the whistling overhead.
