by Shuvom Ghose
"Oh yeah? And what's your great warrior name?"
The spider drew one of his razor claws in a flash, causing Ann-Marie and Zaz to jump back. But he just tapped his head with the impossibly strong, needle-sharp tip. "We use the image of our mind to recognize each other. The complete image of who we are. It would be impossible for you to see. Or know."
He scratched his head, then continued. "But when our hatchlings are young, before their minds can see well, we let them use markings to call us. These markings." On his spotted black skull, he tapped three yellow spots which stood out more than the rest, then put his claw away.
"Three Spot? That's your warrior name?" I laughed.
"He did call it a name for children," Zazlu whispered.
"Fine, whatever," I said. "We don't have tons of time. First of all, Three-Spot, thank you for your advice before. We got on and off the Night Hunting Grounds without needing to kill any of your brothers. And we got most of what we needed." I started digging in the backpack I had brought. "And we would have gotten everything we needed, if you had bothered to tell us about these!"
I slammed a dead, crispy snake up against the glass like a defense attorney. It didn't have the dramatic effect on Three-Spot that I had pictured. It also left a smear on the glass.
"Yes, the lightning snakes appear when the mountain is warmed by the sun," the Hell Spider said, calmly looking at the sample Zazlu had snagged on the trip back. "That is why it is the Night Hunting Grounds."
"You stupid EIGHT LEGGED-" I yelled, pounding the glass. "Do you have any idea how much their bites HURT?"
Three-Spot took his razor claw and pointed at his foreleg, at the tough skin behind his armored shin and two small, long-healed, puncture marks there.
"Yes. I do. At a certain age, the males of our species are disposed to ignore the warnings of their elders and go exploring." He rested back onto his legs. "Many new hunting grounds are found this way. But also many painful scars."
The two fresh burn marks on my neck throbbed. Lesko had crossed me in the hall and I don't know why I had let him mark me again. To teach myself a lesson, I guess. I held my neck and dropped the snake on the table. Three-Spot looked at it with interest.
"Would you mind if I... It has been a while since I have eaten," he said into our heads. I looked at Ann-Marie and Zaz.
She shrugged. Zaz crossed his arms and said, "We can provide many lightning snakes. Many. But we need information first. On where your young males may have ventured recently and not returned."
Three-Spot looked him over, tilting his head one way, then the other. "You wish to collect their skulls."
Zazlu's negotiating face was legendary in the barracks. No human, private to admiral, could read those impassive muscles to tell if the deal being offered was a lemon or the chance of a lifetime. But I saw it flicker for an instant then, as the Hell-Spider looked right through him.
"Zaz, he's psychic, we can't buffalo him," I said, collapsing into the chair. "Yes, Three-Spot. Or General, our commanding officer, wants us to return with skulls to prove we have killed more of your kind."
"But you do not wish to engage us in battle."
Finally.
"That's right. We do not want bloodshed on either side. We will leave your kind alone if you direct us to where they will not be."
The spider considered this, staring at the far wall. We waited politely. It seemed to be taking a long time until-
"This is acceptable," he said. "We will not kill your kind if you do not attempt to kill us or our prey."
"That's great, now where-"
"Our hunting grounds must be respected. You and I will clear 'patrols' with each other, to keep our sides separate."
I stood up, rubbing my forehead. It was starting to ache. Caffeine crash? "Yes, that's fine. Now, for the next time we need skulls-"
"Your thoughts are muddy again," the voice said in my head, but it was wavering in and out like a weak radio signal. And I was so tired. I leaned on the table for support, holding my head.
"Sir, we'll take it from here," Ann-Marie said. "You look like you really need to get some sleep."
"Yes, boss," Zaz agreed, clasping my shoulder. Then he started cutting the lightning snake up into pieces on the table. "This type of discussion I can handle."
I staggered back to our barracks. The last thing I remember before pulling my privacy curtain was seeing Juan hoisting a giggling news reporter into his bunk as her four inch high heels fell off.
When I woke up in the cloned body, I tried to fall asleep and wake up again.
I had been dreaming of riding Hell-Spiders through the jungle chasing salty, juicy steaks. First I was a soldier, riding Three-Spot as we hunted wild porterhouse, then I was a civilian, galloping with a whole pack of spiders, and finally I dreamed of being a Hell-Spider myself, enjoying the juicy, medium-rare results of the hunt.
The taller, brown-skinned body just seemed like another dream and I closed my eyes again, looking forward to waking up and getting my real body back. Until I remembered. I sat up with a pang of sadness. I also could have really gone for a steak right then. I pulled my privacy curtain and Zazlu and Ann-Marie were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. They looked unhappy.
"What time is it?" I croaked, blinking and pulling on my shirt. They could have told me anything and I would have believed it.
Butcher checked her watch. "0613."
"I meant local."
Zaz shrugged. "Sunrise was an hour ago. You have slept for quite a while."
"Twelve hours," Ann-Marie added.
I got out of my bunk and stretched, looking at their frowns again. "Is there a problem?"
They looked at each other, then Zaz said, "General Oakley is very pleased about the two skulls we brought back from the mountain."
I checked my buffering band and grabbed a cup of the coffee. "That's good."
"He has had them cleaned and mounted in the cafeteria."
"That's... exactly what I'd expect Oakley to do."
"And he wants five more by the end of the week," Ann-Marie took over. "Omega squad's patrol ran across two spiders last night but couldn't bring one down. So Oakley ordered us out again as soon as you woke up."
I sighed. Let no success go unpunished. "Fine. What were Three-Spot's recommendations on-”
"There's something else, sir," Butcher interrupted. She looked over her shoulder to check the bunks. Most of their owners were out at breakfast, only Juan remained, starting to stir. She turned back to me. "We were reviewing what the Hell-Spider said to you."
I sat down at the table with them as Juan pulled his privacy curtain and bounded out of his bunk, a huge smile on his face. "Yeah, what about it?" I said.
"The spider said they recognized each other by how their mind projects, every part of their being and consciousness represented in a visual image."
Juan was dancing around in his boxers, whistling as he poured his coffee. "So?" I asked.
"We look at faces," Zazlu said. "They look at souls." He gripped my forearm. "And it had trouble recognizing you after your second resurrection."
That got my attention. "What? Seriously- what?"
"The spider said you looked different after your second time in the tub," Butcher said to me. "Not your body- your mind."
I felt the blood draining from my face. "Fuck."
Juan plopped down at the table with us, just grinning his ass off. "Great morning, isn't it?"
"No, that can't happen," Doctor Murphy said, shaking her head. She leaned around her door, her curly red hair and flannel pajamas disheveled in an adorable way. "The bands capture your consciousness exactly for transmission to your new body. End of story."
"Now when you say 'exactly' Doc," I replied from the hallway, with Zazlu, Butcher and Juan behind me, "you're measuring this by some sort of brain thermometer or..."
"Packet loss. Goodput. CAT scans, MRIs," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose where her glasses would have sat. "It works. We've tested it. End of st
ory."
I looked back at my squad. Who were we going to believe more? Her or the Hell Spider? And how could we explain where our doubts came from?
"If you're so worried about it, Lieutenant, just keep a log of your thoughts, hopes and dreams," Murphy said. "We can review it from time to time, to see if it changes."
"A diary?" Juan laughed. "You want him to write a dairy? Maybe we all should have a sleepover and-"
Juan shut up with one cold look from my eyes. I turned back to Murphy. "It's not that we don't believe you Doc, but maybe I could just talk to you privately about it sometime." I looked at the solid door she was hiding behind. "You know, your room looks a lot more private than our barracks, what with this big steel door that we could close if-"
"Good night Lieutenant," she said, closing the door in my face and locking it.
No one said anything until Juan whispered, "I bet this is totally going in his diary."
Captain Morse looked up as we ducked our heads into his office.
"Oakley's sending us out again, sir," I said. "Another bug hunt."
The pile of papers on Morse's left side had shrunk somewhat. The one on his right side had grown a little. "Very well," he nodded, then went back to it.
"It sounds a little more dangerous than last time," I added. "I was wondering if we could take two Heavies. Oakley said it was okay last time but we didn't."
This time he didn't look up as his pencil kept making marks on the paper. "Approved."
After a few seconds, I said, "Sir, he's mainly sending us out for trophies to hang in the cafeteria. It may not be the best way to actually win the war."
He still didn't look up. "General Oakley dictates the overall strategy, Lieutenant. We just choose the tactics. Carry on."
I looked at the others. "Aye, aye sir. Carrying on."
The technician powered up two Heavy exoskeletons and looked at his computer readouts. "So, besides the standard load out," he asked the four of us, "what type of special weapons do you wan-"
"Flamethrowers," we all said at once.
I decided to have Zazlu and Juan drive the Heavies, and Ann-Marie and I would be on foot. They would be the squad's firepower, Butcher and I would be its speed. We would leave all the privates in barracks. The fewer people who knew about our secret spider informant, the better.
Juan was grinning like a Muppet as he stomped the thousand pound skeleton down the halls with easy motions of his arms and legs. "Why don't we use these things ALL THE TIME?"
"Because you'd die of the awesome," I replied as we entered the hangar. "Now be quiet for a second." I whispered into my mike, "Zaz, did Three-Spot mention any restrictions on taking helicopters this time?"
The Heavies technician had also tuned our four implants to a private channel since Grimmy wasn't there to do it this time. I wanted Grimstone in the barracks analyzing Ridley's band non-stop until he figured out what had happened to him. What really happened. So far each new piece of data had conflicted with every previous one.
"No restrictions," Zaz replied. "In fact, the distance requires that we take them. And Oakley ordered us to do so at the main gate, if you remember."
"Yeah, I remember," I growled, waving the Hangar Master over.
She pointed us to two idling helos at the front of the flightline. But as I ran up to the first cockpit to talk to the pilot, there wasn't one there. There weren't even seats to have pilots. Just a metal box the size of a Rottweiler with blinking lights and cables stretching from it.
No. Hell no. I backed away and waved the Hangar Master over again.
"Where are the human pilots?" I yelled over the noise of rotors.
She shrugged. "Only use them for emergencies! The auto-pilots are safer; they'll get you where you want to go!"
And report right back to Oakley where we did or did not go, with electronic precision.
"No!" I yelled back, shaking my head. "Where are the humans?"
She looked kind of angry and pointed to the far corner of the hangar where four guys were playing cards.
Zazlu helped me pick our pilot out. We wanted someone who could be bought by us, but not bought by Oakley. Someone loyal to soldiers, not to orders. Jinx thanked us all through his pre-flight check.
"Damn boxes are taking all our work," he yelled back to us while spinning up the rotors. "Flight Control loves 'em because they never deviate from course and never crash. But you'll never be able to remove the human element, I say. Thanks for picking me again, sir."
"No problem," I said, strapping in. "What kind of pilot name is 'Jinx' anyway?"
He grinned at me through the gap between the cockpit and the open cabin. "An old and sacred one. You all set?"
I looked; Ann-Marie was seated and belted in next to me, Zazlu and Juan were standing in their Heavies on opposite skids of the helo, hard points harnessed to the frame. "Yep, let's fly."
"No one else?" Jinx asked. "Most squads take at least five. The Immortal boys don't travel in less than packs of ten."
"Only one else I'd want is a medic," I replied. "And ours is already hurt."
Jinx gave me a wise and meaningful look. "Should I be wearing a buffering band for this mission, sir?"
I smiled. "It wouldn't be a bad idea."
We took off and headed north and west, right towards Hell-Spot's valley where the spider sightings were the most numerous. After we had gotten past the Night Hunting Grounds mountain, Jinx dropped to fly just above the tree line.
"The mass of the mountain blocks the base radar," he said into the intercom. "I've heard the Flight Control guys bitching about it all the time. They'll assume we kept on going to one of the usual patrol drops."
"Good," Ann-Marie said, then leaned forward to show Jinx a rarity in these modern times, a paper map. "Because here's where we're really going."
Jinx hovered the helo fifty feet over the desert. There were some stretches of sand, but also rocks and some light scrub bushes for as far as I could see. I turned to Zazlu skeptically.
"It looks pretty hot down there."
"Yes sir, but this is where Three-Spot directed us to go. As close as we can guess. Hell-Spiders think in landmarks, not 2D maps. The translation was...challenging."
"Lightning snakes love hot weather."
"Three-Spot says no snakes in this area. I inquired specifically."
"They need water to survive," Ann-Marie added. "This area doesn't have flowing water for lightning snakes to lay their eggs."
I unbuckled my harness. "And no Hell-Spider hunting parties?"
Zaz did the same. "Not today."
I looked around again. A rolling desert with barely any tree cover. From one of the small hills, we'd be able to see a threat coming for miles in every direction. And we were carrying enough firepower to crack open a tank. I tapped Jinx on the shoulder. "Okay! That flat spot there! Combat drop and dust off!"
Jinx handled it great, the skids barely touching the sand long enough for us to jump off, and then he crash climbed to a safe altitude again. I'd be damned if I was losing our ride home.
"Stay safe but stay within a few minutes range," I told him through our mikes.
"Roger. Climbing to overwatch height."
Ann-Marie led us forward, looking every minute at her paper map. We made good time. She was light on her feet, my new body felt like I could run for hours even in the stifling heat, and the Heavies did the work for Zazlu and Juan, even though their footpads sunk into the soft sand. If the Heavies had had calves, they would have been burning.
"Too bad about your reporter friend," I told Juan as he ran along beside me.
"Why's that, sir?"
"Benefactors never stay planetside for more than a day. Once the bots have toured the base, I'm guessing all the news teams will leave on the same transport they came in on."
He beamed while his machine muscles whirred and pumped. "Oh no, sir. Dakota's staying until the next transport at least. She's gonna cover that first farm colony thing."
A
nn-Marie snorted. "Dakota."
"It's a cowgirl's name," Juan fired back. "I know because that girl sure knows how to ride a-"
"All right, all right," I interrupted. "Butcher- how much farther?"
She stopped and wiped off her brow with her shirt, then checked her map again. She looked up and pointed to a Joshua tree-like-thing standing alone at the top of the next hill. "That tree. Three-Spot says it's one of the last things the hunting party saw."
We stopped to drink some cold water, the four of us kneeling in a circle facing outward, weapons ready. I was looking towards the Joshua tree, about a two-minute jog away.
There was no noise but the breeze rustling sand and our breathing.
"They're still going ahead with volunteer farmers starting colonies here?" I asked no one in particular. "With Hell-Spiders sneaking into our base?"
"The transport was probably already underway before that news got back there," Ann-Marie said. "It takes a week to get from Earth through to our wormgate."
"And if they are like normal farmers," Zazlu added, "they are already in debt to pay for their equipment. They are probably eager to start planting, no matter the security situation."
"And I'm sure Spider skulls on the walls will make them feel safer," I snorted. "Everyone ready?" My team nodded. "Then let's go."
We jogged the valley between us and the Joshua tree, but slowed as we approached it. Ann-Marie went first, creeping forwards with her rifle on her shoulder. Zazlu covered her, weapon ports open. I went around the tree the other way, looking up, down, over, but not seeing anything. We formed another circle around the tree, weapons out, and listened. Nothing.
"What did Three-Spot say killed this hunting party?" I asked.
"He did not," Zaz grunted. "And we had no more lightning snakes to offer in trade."
"We'll have to fix that. Anyone see any dead spiders?"
"I see a live one," Butcher said, looking through the sniper scope on her rifle.
