It had been close to two hours since Oscar’s little dance in the void. The repair on the warp drive had been finished and Bryce had called a general withdraw. They made a fighting retreat all the way back to the center of the station. Each company moving independently from each other. At close to the three-minute mark one of the companies had suddenly gone dark. All fifty-three IFF signatures dead in seconds. On their way back to the hanger, Oscar’s fireteam had found out why those signatures had gone silent.
Mangled corpses floated aimlessly through the corridors and massive tears were visible on their armor. “Jesus, what could have done that?”
Varus looked grim, “those looks like cuts made from melee weapons, and the only Xeno strong enough to chop armored men in half are Gorgans.”
Oscar walked over to one of the corpses, its body had been sheared clean in two. Wrinkling his nose he unlatched the armor on its left side. He pulled the sleeve over his exposed left arm and began to seal the latches.
“I didn’t take you for a grave robber,” Andrew said looking over.
“It’s not like he’s going to be doing anything with it either way.”
“Maintain radio silence,” Bryce said, “We don’t have the time to properly dispose of these bodies properly. Sergeant Cortez, have your men rig some grav-nades around them. We’ll blow them when we’re back on the Mistral. Everyone else, form a perimeter around them. We don’t want to get jumped with our pants down.”
“Copy that.” Twelve men broke off from their detachment and floated into the mass of corpses. They stuck explosives to the bodies on the outside before delving deeper into the sea of organic matter. Oscar watched their suit cams as they methodically removed ammo and other useful gear.
Suddenly, one of the camera feeds went offline, “what the hell just happened, who just went offline?”
There was a pause, then another camera feed went offline. Cortez tried to say something but his signal was so scrambled that only static went through.
“They’re jamming the fucking suits!” Andrew swore, “Return them immediately.”
“Sergeant Cortez, pull your men back,” Bryce said over the command chat, but Cortez continued on, unable to hear the order. Oscar watched the footage, trying to glimpse what was taking out the men. One by one the suits winked out until only four remained. The feed from Cortez was still coming in strong when a mass of grey slammed into him like a bullet train before disappearing. The sergeant swore in Spanish pulling out a knife. In the pitch-black enclosed environment, he couldn’t see a thing. His suit picked up motion from behind him and he spun around. There was a flash of teeth and the suit's vitals flatlined. Just like that Sergeant Jorge Cortez, a veteran of two wars and eight theaters of combat was dead in an instant.
“Christ almighty they’ve brought fucking Gorgan hunters.” Varus swore, “Sam, forget about the fucking bodies we need to get out of here stat.”
“We can’t just leave that gear lying around.” Bryce protested.
“If we don’t leave now, Michael will call it quits and jump to warp without us. You know he’d it too.”
“Fine, but if the Feds come for us because of this. I’m sticking the blame on you. No way am I getting my ass reamed for this one.”
“As long as we get out of here alive I couldn’t care less.”
“Right let’s move people.” Bryce ordered, “Andrew take point, you’ve got the best sensors and I don’t want any nasty surprises.”
“Yes sir,” Andrew said moving forwards.
“Oscar, I trust you can bring up the rear?”
“You got it.” He said pulling back, Malone sighed and fell out of rank as well. Oscar nodded to him.
“Just for the record, I’m only doing this for a favor,” he said as the company started moving again.
They were almost to the hanger when shots rang out from behind. Oscar stumbled as he took a shotgun blast to the back. The lights in his suit flickering and his mag boots shut off. He began to float into the middle of the corridor, “OH SHIT OH FUCK OH NO!”
Another spray of buckshot hit him, sending him forwards in the null gravity environment. A hand snatched up, grasping his leg and yanking him back down to the deck before a beam of plasma lanced overhead.
“Keep your Goddamn head down.” Malone hissed, “we’re almost there and I’ll be damned if you get me killed.”
Bryce’s voice buzzed over the comms, “Irons, Malone. Get your sorry ass’ up and kill those sons of bitches.”
“Cock sucking belter bum,” Malone swore to himself.
“I heard that Malone.” Bryce said, “Now do your fucking job, I’m sending Sergeant Yang back for support.”
“Copy that.”
Malone pulled three grenades from his belt and tossed them over their protective plating. They exploded with a flash and together they peered over cover and started shooting back. Oscar winced as shotgun pellets made dents in the plate and sparked against his helmet. He held down the trigger, suppressing the Dawlish boarders.
“Alert Class 18 deathworlder within sensor range.” his suit warned, “to preserve user safety, pull back to friendly forces.”
“Ah shit, should have brought some stims for this,” Malone said reloading his rifle.
“What do we do?”
“We hold our end of the contract and hope that Yang doesn’t decide to ditch us.”
“S-she wouldn’t do that right?” Oscar stuttered, Malone grunted and didn’t say anything. “Malone?”
The deck shook as bulkheads sealed shut, locking them in on all sides, “Can’t believe I’m going to die next to a greenie.”
“We’re not going to die,” Oscar said trying to calm him down, his next words died in his mouth as they listened to the panicked screaming. A couple of the aliens scrambled away from the intersection trying to get away from the rampaging deathworlder. They came into sight as they ran and the two Terrans put them down with ruthless efficiency. The screams and cries ceased, plunging the area into silence once again. Pools of orange blood floated into view, followed closely by three severed heads.
“Jesus.”
“We are so dead.”
A singular purple and black tentacle, the width of a man’s hips emerged from around the corner. It was covered in tiny scales that ran orange and red with blood. Oscar’s suit blared with alarms, “Warning air contamination detected, switching to internal oxygen supply.
A second tentacle shot out, grabbing the corner and heaving its massive body forwards. It put so much force onto the bulkhead that it crumbled under the weight. Finally, the monster rounded the corner, fourteen tentacles jutted out from a central ball that was covered in angry eyes. It’s gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Oscar pressed his rifle to the armored plating and held down the trigger, Malone following suit. They let loose a hail of bullets that shook the deck and sent the deathworlder hurtling backwards in a hail of explosions. He reloaded in a split second and continued firing. Behind them the sealed blast door started to open, Yang’s squad finally arriving. Malone slammed his final mag into his gun and stood up, he kept shooting with one arm while reaching for a grenade with the other.
Unfortunately for him, both their rifles ran out of ammo at the same time. Leaving the two of them incredibly exposed, alone, in a corridor with one of the deadliest sentient beings in the galaxy. The deathworlder shook itself, brushing off its brightly colored body. It slowly floated towards them as if it had all the time in the world. Oscar could hear Yang’s muffled curses and the grinding of gears. He could hear Malone’s quiet prayers and the rasping of his knife being drawn. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest.
The monster began to emit a choking noise that his suit translated as laughter. It lunged forwards, eight tentacles shooting towards Malone. He jolted backwards, knife flashing out, its impossibly sharp edge hacking off one of the limbs. The other seven latched onto him. He kicked and punched trying to free himself. Oscar took that time to pull out his own knife. He pushed off the deck and launched himself at the deathworlder, attempting to stab its body. Oscar slashed three of the tentacles off with one sweep, barreling into the beast. It screeched in surprise, several tree trunk thick limbs wrapping around him. He struggled to free himself, but even with his suit's enhanced strength, he didn’t budge an inch.
“Stupid fuck.” Malone swore slashing at another tentacle, it batted the knife out of his grasp before crushing his hand. There was an audible crunch as mere muscles turned hardened titanium composite into scrap metal. Malone gasped in pain and began to thrash violently. The armor flying off in chunks and fragments leaving his arm exposed. The tentacle held on tight, toxin’s beginning to pump through it and into his skin. Malone’s suit, realizing the position he was in. Amputated the arm before the toxin could spread and placed him in a coma.
The deathworlder, assuming he was dead. Turned its attention towards Oscar.
“Nah, hell Nah!” he swore attempting to press the detonator on one of the grenades on his belt. The Xeno gently fished the grenade out and, holding it just out of reach of him, detonated it. Shrapnel tore through the tentacle, turning it into a mangled piece of flesh. The message was clear, there was nothing he could do to kill it.
His radio crackled, “Oscar, don’t move a fucking muscle.”
“That’s not up to me at this point,” he muttered to himself, he could feel the tentacles constricting around him. “Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast, please. It’s about to pop me like a gorilla with a jar of ragu sauce.”
From the bulkhead, one of the marines fired a heavy shoulder-mounted laser. It beamed through the deathworlder in an instant. Burning a neat hole right in the center of it. The thing roared in agony, releasing Malone and crushing Oscar even harder.
“O-o-oh shit!” he wheezed, the chest plate of his suit deforming as he was squeezed. Another laser passed through it, cutting the lower quarter off. The tentacles shriveled up and died, releasing their grip on Oscar. The deathworlder shot off on its remaining tentacles. Acting very much like a squid, it picked up speed before punching through one of the sealed bulkheads like it wasn’t even there.
“Good shot Ruby,” Yang said thumping one of the marines on the back. Said marine began reloading her weapon. She unlatched a massive power cell from the back of it and slammed another one in.
“Took you long enough.” Oscar rasped, “what was with the holdup? Nearly got Malone killed.”
Yang looked over at Malone as they moved, “ET sealed the blast door in the hanger and we had to burn through all of that.”
They passed through the hole in the hanger door and into the hanger itself. Marines lined up in front of airlocks, waiting for their turns to board.
“Move aside, we got wounded,” Yang shouted, waving her arms. The soldiers parted around them and they entered the airlock. Oscar popped the seal off his helmet and took a massive gasp of relatively fresh air. Beside him, Yang shook her long locks of blonde hair. Around them close to a hundred contractors scrambled inside.
“Get Tanner to the medics.”
“Huh, so his name’s Tanner.”
“You didn’t know that?” she asked looking over at him. In that moment, Oscar realized that Yang was smoking hot. Her bright golden hair framed large green eyes and high cheekbones. Her suit was modified like so many women's to accommodate their larger chest. However, the level of modification was almost to the point of being absurd.
“Eyes are up here buddy.” she teased.
“Oh come on I wasn’t even looking.” he protested, “it’s not like there’s anything to look at. Plus I have a girlfriend.”
“And don’t you forget that Oscar.” he thought to himself.
“Oh? And who’s the lucky lass?”
“Uhhh-”
“Ha liar.”
“I’m not lying, it's Stephanie Slater.’
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.”
“Prove it.”
He was about to pull out his holo when Bryce shouted, “Keep those fucking suits sealed people. We ain’t out of the fire yet.”
The all-hands alarm blared and Oscar pressed his head back into his helmet.
“Talk to ya later Oscar,” Yang said, running off. He grunted and noticed Andrew looking around frantically. Oscar walked over to him, “looking for someone?”
“Yeah, I’m lookin’ for the greenie. I promised his girl I’d look after...” he trailed off as he realized who he was talking to, “Ah Ozzy! Just the man I was looking for. Michael wants us in the bridge.”
“What why?”
“Because most of the crew run double duty and most of the bridge crew is off in engineering. Now quit asking questions and move.” They ran as fast as Oscar’s mangled suit would allow. It groaned and squealed as wrecked servos attempted to move crushed armor joints. They slowed as they approached the bridge, the normally four guards were replaced by one very nervous-looking cook. He sighed in relief assuming they were there to take over.
“Sorry bud, Captain needs us in CIC,” Andrew said not even glancing at the cook. They stepped into the bridge and were quickly sent into the Intel pit. Halley, the woman who he had first met on the bridge gave them a brief rundown.
“Andrew good to see you in one piece. Greenie, a little bit less so.” she said with a grin, “I’m going to need you two on the IFF, just give a holler when those US destroyers start moving.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, we’ve got enough people to do the basics, you’re just here to fill in if there are casualties.”
“Captain, all hands are accounted for and all munitions are stowed away.”
“Very well, comms, get me a line to the Evergreen.”
“Aye sir, Evergreen coming up... Now.”
“Captain Giovanni this is Captain Sullivan of the Mistral, we are prepared to disembark. Waiting for your go order.”
The translator beeped, “Evergreen and Co. are ready to disembark, Task Force 248 is en route. Departure in T minus ten, nine, eight…”
Oscar watched through incredibly expensive monitors as all four ships' sub-light fusion engines ignited. The docking ramps retracted and they shot off into space, accelerating to a blistering twelve G’s. On the screen, ten Terran warships transitioned into real space. They spat out of warp moving at a fraction of light speed, trailing comets of purple and red.
“Captain we have eyes on friendly ships.” Andrew hollered.
“Put it up on the main display.” Oscar hit a few buttons and the screen appeared in the holo tank. The task force was closing in on the still unaware Dawlish war fleet. Only the most advanced ET’s had managed FTL communications and the Dawlish were nowhere near that level of technological prowess.
“Navigation, how much longer before we’re out of the gravity well?”
“Three minutes at current acceleration before we’re out of range and another two before we can make the jump.”
“Very well, maintain current acceleration and warm up the MARS cannon and get me firing solutions on that Dawlish command ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
On-screen, the Dawlish force had finally located the incoming warships. They turned their attention away from the retreating mercenaries and shifted towards the rapidly approaching task force. Red arrows appeared on screen with tags next to each of them noting the speed and estimated payload. “ET’s launched missiles.”
The Terran task force ignored the missiles, they were going far too fast for them to intercept. Massive energy readings spiked all around them as they released a volley of MARS rounds. The shells crossed the distance between fleets in a matter of seconds. Seven shots slammed into three targets. One round hitting the reactor of a Dawlish destroyer. It exploded in a massive nuclear-powered fireball engulfing two more. The task force fired another volley, rapidly changing trajectory before the rounds had even hit. Ten shots fired and ten shots hit. The first six crashed against a cruiser, its shields flickering before the other four put it out of commission. The task force fired off flares as they disappeared into warp space.
“Goddamn, I’ve missed that.” Andrew sighed, “nothing like watching the flyboys do their thing.”
The Dawlish commander, wary of another attack, pulled their fleet back close. Giving up on chasing the fleeing Terrans. Several minutes later the task force was back. They popped out of warp already moving away from the Xeno’s, flipped their ships around, and fired one final salvo before burning hard for the asteroid belts, their capacitors drained and crew spent.
“Transiting to warp now.” navigation said and Oscar felt the familiar sensation of both horror and euphoria as the ship passed through the tear in reality.