Jungle colony book 2, p.115
Jungle (Colony Book 2), page 115
“Thanks,” he said, but she was already jogging down the deck, her gun at the ready. He slipped the spare magazines into his pockets and started after her and the corporal.
Their pace ate away at the hallway, the sound of their feet racing over the deck mixing with the alerts and the distant pops of gunfire. At one point the ship shook again, a heavy vibration running down the deck, and Sweets caught the worried glance his two escorts shared. Or at least, one of them shared; the tinted visor on the other made it hard to tell. Even so, both seemed worried. Not that he blamed them.
Has this ship ever seen combat? he wondered as they began to slow, the final pressure door before the rear section of the ship looming in front of them. Like the others, it was partially closed—he wasn’t sure why. Or is this the first time for any of them?
The sounds of gunfire were definitely louder now, though he still couldn’t say exactly where they were coming from. If his escorts had any clue either, they kept it to themselves as they waved him through the opening and along a much more familiar part of the ship, heading for the mess hall.
Sweets froze for a moment as the faint whisper he’d heard before returned once again, louder and more noticeable than before. This time even the corporal’s head came up in confusion, and her counterpart looked over at her. “Now you hear it?” she asked as they neared a corner in the hallway. Batir nodded in return.
He’s right, Sweets thought. It does sound like static. Just … lower. More … organic. As quickly as it had come, the sound was gone, fading away once more behind the distant pops of gunfire and the sound of the alerts.
“Don’t shoot!” his escort called as she stepped around the corner, raising her hands. “Private Dane, Corporal Batir, and the VIP! We’re back from the bridge.”
She beckoned him around the corner and he obliged, stepping around it to see a makeshift barricade about halfway down the hall, formed from what looked like tables from the mess tipped on their sides. Several guns were pointed in their direction, but as he watched they lowered, and someone waved them forward, voices chattering at them.
“—word from the bridge?”
“—captain doing—”
“—attacking us? Was it rebels?”
“Will you assholes shut up?” The gruff voice cut above the group, silencing them as a soli clad only in a vest and a helmet like Sweets’ shoved past them. “Buncha’ children.” His eyes darted over the three of them as they approached, and both Batir and Dane flashed him quick salutes.
“You two made it to the bridge huh?” he asked, his eyes sliding over the pair and then to Sweets with a look that said he was anything but impressed. “Well?” he asked, his eyes darting back to Batir and Dane. “What are you asswipes waiting for? Get your butts to the mess hall. Captain Indiel’s in there. She’s assumed command. She’ll want your report.”
“Marines in command?” Dane muttered as they moved past. “What next?”
“I’ll take it as long as someone’s in charge,” Batir replied as they moved down the hall, passing several solis along the way, each of the spread out from one another and clearly armed. Many of them were standing over or by a few of the alien bodies as well. “Besides, she’s actually seen action.”
A faint scent began to tickle Sweets’ nose, and a glance at his unarmored companion showed that she was bothered by it as well. It was hard to place, both metallic and earthy, with a sharp acrid tang that almost burned. There was a second smell alongside it, this one familiar.
Gunpowder, he thought as both smells grew stronger. And gore? Is that what these things smell like after a bit? His gaze fell upon another corpse that looked to have been kicked to the side of the hall, trailing fluids both orange and clear behind it, and a quick sniff confirmed that the smell was indeed coming from them.
“Careful not to breathe too deep,” a nearby soli cautioned. “In fact, I’d keep away from the things if you could. Some of them are putting out some kind of gas—makes you woozy. The filters are still up, and it’s a heavy gas, so it’s not been too much a problem so far, but you get too close and …” They jerked their head to the side. “Down you go.”
“Thanks …” Sweets said, edging away from the corpse as they moved further down the hall, his foot scattering a small collection of bullet casings. They skittered across the hall with a faint rasp, several of them bouncing off of another dead creature.
“If you see any out in the middle of the hall, shoot ‘em,” the soli called after them as the doors to the mess hall loomed. “Just to be safe. Then kick ‘em over to a vent! Keeps the fumes down.” Sweets nodded, though he held off replying.
There’s so many, he thought as they neared the entrance. A pair of armored solis were on guard outside it, both their suits stained with blood—human and alien. A small line of alien bodies had been assembled on the far side of the hall, stacked two deep, that stretched across two vents. At least two dozen of the things. Maybe more. Where did they all come from? How did they get aboard the ship?
“Batir,” one of the guards said, nodding in his escort’s direction as they approached. “Good to see you’re back. I hope you’ve got good news—Indiel’s not getting a lot of it.”
Batir nodded. “Any word from the other runners?” she asked, slowing as they neared the door.
“No,” the soli said, shaking their head. “You’re the first.”
“Right,” Batir said, her expression souring slightly, and she swallowed. “Thanks.” Her pace increased once more, the group moving into the hall.
For a moment Sweets almost came to a stop in shock: The inside of the mess looked like a warzone. Blood and ichor coated half the floor, a pair of armored solis in the process of spraying it away with heavy hoses. Most of the tables had been upturned—and some had even been hastily welded together, though how he couldn’t say—to form a barrier wall behind which several solis—armored and unarmored—looked outward with guns at the ready. A pile of corpses beside the dispensaries showed the logic behind the defenses, and as Sweets ran his eyes up, he spotted gaping holes dotting the ceiling every ten feet: torn-open vents that had likely disgorged the attackers.
There was another pile in the kitchen too, covered with what looked like garbage bags, but not well enough that he couldn’t make out the armored foot protruding out from beneath one corner … nor the slick of blood beneath it.
I guess … that explains the iron scent in the air, he thought, his stomach churning as they stepped inside the barricade, his view of the bodies immediately blocked by a horde of crew. They parted around the group like an ocean, his eyes catching a wide variety of uniforms and insignia, though it did look as though the various groups had divided themselves up according to their rank and sector aboard the ship.
He spotted a few marines as well, though nowhere near as many as he’d expected to see, given who was apparently in charge now. Though I guess that makes sense, he thought as the deck rumbled underfoot, a dull boom echoing from somewhere else in the ship. Their job is to repel boarders, after all. I guess this counts.
They found Captain Indiel at the center of the fortification, bent over a datapad projecting an image of the rear of the ship into the air. Batir walked up and snapped a salute without any hesitation. Indiel didn’t even look up, her attention still fixed on the rotating map and another soli standing on the other side of the table.
“So that puts his squad … here,” she said, tapping the map with one finger. A section of the ship changed colors. “Closer, but no better.” She let out a sigh. “All right, shore it up and hold it. Until we have a better idea of what we’re up against, I don’t want to be overextended. Get to it.” The soli snapped a salute and ran off. “What about engineering?” Indiel asked, turning to an armored figure at her left. “Or the armory? Any word from either of them?”
“No sir,” the figure replied, and the captain scowled before turning to face Batir.
“Did you reach the bridge?” she asked, her words quick and curt. A faint rattle of automatic fire added some punctuation to her statement, followed moments later by a distant shout of “Contact!” The captain scowled but didn’t look toward the distant sound, her eyes fixed on Batir.
“We did,” Batir said, giving her a snappy nod.
“And?”
“The bridge was attacked, but held out. Captain Sokolov was in command.”
“Good,” Indiel said, her prosthetic hand twitching slightly. “Our situation? What happened to Varus?” Sweets didn’t miss the way her eyes slid ever-so-slightly in his direction.
Good thing I’m here with an escort that can vouch for me, he thought. Or else this conversation could likely take a different tone.
“Varus was compromised and taken offline,” Batir said. “Sokolov’s orders are to secure the ship against whatever these …” the corporal hesitated for a moment. “Things … are,” she finally concluded. “As well as maintain contact or gain contact with as many sectors as possible.”
Indiel frowned. “That’s a tall order. These things aren’t tough, but they are numerous, and they have a habit of boiling out of nowhere. What few lines we’ve made have to be constantly guarded. Still, unless the comms come back on and that jamming stops, it’s all we’ve got.” She nodded. “Any other orders?”
“Yes,” Batir said, stepping to the side and nodding in Sweets’ direction. Another faint staccato clap of gunfire echoed through the cafeteria from another direction, closer than the last set. “Mr. Candy is to be escorted to Varus’ AI core, along with any techs, to attempt to bring him back online.”
“I wondered what he was doing here,” Indiel said. “Hmm …” She turned away from them, bracing herself against the table and staring at the map of the Casimir floating there. “That’s a section of the ship we haven’t heard back from yet. But, if it would get Varus back online … Might be able to make contact with the engineering department as well.” She let out a short hum even as another distant chorus of gunfire sounded off. “Any further orders?” she asked without looking back.
“No sir,” Batir said with a shake of her head.
“Right,” Captain Indiel replied. “Then take your escort and get back to the bridge. Tell the captain we’ll do it. Also, that we’re working to get the communications back online—he’ll know if we start succeeding. Return with any further orders. Dismissed.”
“Yes sir.” Batir snapped a quick salute and stepped away, Dane backing with her.
“As for you—” Indiel began, turning toward Sweets, only to be cut off as someone else called out from back in the crowd.
“Captain!”
Indiel must have recognized the voice, because she turned away from Sweets immediately. “Lieutenant,” she called as an armored figure stepped out of the parting crowd, backed by several others. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. You get what I sent you for?”
“Mostly, ma’am,” the marine said, striding forward and setting a datapad on the table. “The schematics we found. The IT techs though …” He shook his head. “Those things had already gotten there. It was … bad.” The marine’s visor skimmed over the nearby crowd. “Same as the others: close quarters and out of the vents.”
“Shit,” Indiel said, her curse as tight as a wire. “I was hoping they’d be all right. These things hit us too well. Still,” she said, picking up the datapad. “Hopefully this is worth it.”
“There’s more,” the lieutenant said as the tablet came to life in Indiel’s hands. “We heard heavy weapons fire on the way back. Exo-class.”
Indiel paused for just a moment before her fingers resumed flying over the pad’s display. “And?”
“It might not be ours,” the lieutenant said. “We didn’t stick around to find out—our orders were clear—but we haven’t encountered anyone from the armory yet.”
Indiel nodded. “And if they were from the armory, and reaching that section of the ship, they could have reached us here. We’ve not been quiet. There’s no reason they shouldn’t have. I’d like my armor.” She frowned. “I don’t like what that implies.” She tapped at the datapad again, and the frown faded as a large square appeared with four flashing lights equally spread across the top. “This though …” She looked up, her eyes panning the ceiling. “Perfect. Tech teams!” Armored and unarmored heads across the cafeteria looked up at her. “Teams one and two; schematics,” she said, holding up the datapad. “Come get it, and start clearing the air. Any means necessary.” One of the armored solis approached, and she tossed them the datapad.
What are they up to? Sweets wondered, watching as Indiel turned and began talking to the lieutenant again, this time in a much more hushed tone. As he watched, the soli that had taken the datapad passed it off to another and with a group of four in tow, moved across the cafeteria, their visor turned up toward the ceiling. A few seconds later they paused, motioned to their comrades, and then climbed atop a table, reaching for one of the panels. With a sharp, metal squeal, the panel came free, revealing …
Orange cabling? Sweets thought in confusion. Are those power cables? No, can’t be … They’re too thin. Oddly enough the solis looked confused as well, and as he watched, the one that had removed the panel reached in and gave the cabling a sharp, violent tug. It came free of whatever it was attached to, pulling out in a giant half-loop. Another soli jumped up on the table and drew a knife, and with a faint electric pop, the cable was severed. The other end followed a moment later, and the solis descended the table, several of them staring at the strange length.
“Sir?” the one holding it called, walking through the crowd towards Indiel. “You need to see this.”
He held out the cable as he neared, and after a second, Sweets realized it wasn’t a cable at all. It wasn’t covered in plastic, for one, and it wasn’t nearly as uniformly orange as it had looked at a distance. Worse, it wasn’t smooth, either. Hundreds of thin, hair-like … growths … were coming out of it, and he could see some sort of clear fluid leaking out of the cut ends.
It’s organic! he realized, his eyes taking in the whole length at once. Like a—
“Is that root?” Indiel asked, her normally stoic face showing pure surprise. “From—?”
The soli nodded. “It was growing over the wireless network setup. These—” One hand ran along the length, pulling out several of the thin hairs, “—were all over the circuits.”
“What in the hell is going on?” Indiel asked, though her expression made it clear she didn’t expect an answer.
“Captain! Over here!” It was the other group that had looked at the datapad, standing atop another table and holding out a length of orange … well, whatever it was. “We’ve got more of it!” Again there was a faint, electric snap as the soli’s knife bit through the ends. “Carrying a charge too!”
“Soldier?” Indiel asked, glancing at the first armored figure. “Comms?”
“I …” Their hand went to the side of their head. “Still a mess, but a lot less of one!” Their visor turned toward the marine captain. “I can almost pick up something!”
“Excellent,” Indiel said. “I was worried we were going to have to smash our shipboard repeaters. Toss whatever that is with the rest of the corpses, then both of you move out and start checking every repeater. I want comms!”
“Yes sir!” the soli said, snapping a salute and turning away as soon as Indiel had acknowledged the motion.
Those … roots, Sweets thought, watching as the soli tossed the cut length through the air. Is that what they are? Were they interfacing with the ship’s systems? It was either that, or they were producing a jamming current that had taken the shipboard nodes down.
“Right,” the captain said, turning back toward her marine detachment. “Bout damn time we had some good news. Lieutenant?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“This is Ray Candy, the Casimir’s consultant VIP on the cyberattacks. Captain Sokolov wants him escorted to Varus’ AI core.”
“Ma’am, that’s right next to—”
“Engineering, I know. We’ve not heard back from anyone sent in that direction.”
“What about clearance?”
“If you can’t find an engineer or proper credentials, then knock,” Indiel replied, her emphasis making it clear she meant something other than simply banging on the door. “You have my permission to make a mess.”
“Noted, ma’am,” the marine said, nodding, but Indiel was already directing her attention elsewhere.
“You there,” she said, snapping her fingers and pointing at a group of armored solis. “Front and center.”
“Yes sir!” the lead said, jumping forward and coming to attention alongside the lieutenant. “Sergeant Nido, captain.”
“Sergeant,” Indiel said, giving the soli a salute. “I want you to attach your squad to Lieutenant Valdez’s for the time being. You’re sharing similar objectives, so report to him until as such time as your squad splits.”
“Yes sir,” Nido said, nodding. “My team is ready for orders.”
“I hope so,” Indiel said. “I need you to do a recon of engineering and—if possible—secure it.”
“Sir?”
“The lieutenant is heading for an objective close by—Varus’ AI core—so your teams will be able to support one another as needed until you’re forced to diverge.”
“Yes sir,” the soli replied, her voice offering only a hint of surprise or alarm at her orders as she turned to face Lieutenant Valdez.
“You’re also going to be escorting a civilian, so don’t kill him by mistake.”
Nido nodded.
“And be careful,” Indiel said, lowering her voice. “We’ve sent two groups to try and meet up with engineering already. Neither of them have come back. One pulling a disappearing act is suspicious enough, but two?” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, we need both locations. Get out there and take them. If you happen to find out why those other two teams disappeared, or run into them, take command. Call us if comms come back online. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am,” Valdez said, in unison with Nido’s own “Yes sir!” Both saluted, and then Valdez looked at Sweets.
