Undying Mercenaries 2: Dust World (12 page)

“Thank you, sir. I’ll try to be worthy of your confidence.”

Adjunct Leeson shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t thank me until you hear the punch line. Our squad dr
ew the short straw. We’re stepping off this lifter first.”

My face fell. “How exactly did that happen, sir?”

“Centurion Graves volunteered us.”

My eyes swung to Graves. Leeson’s did the same. We both stared at the
Centurion grimly, but he didn’t seem to care. He was having a private talk with Turov.

“You think he’s over there volunteering us for some more special duties?” I asked. “Like repainting the lifter’s hull after we land?”

Adjunct Leeson laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

-12-

About a dozen hours later, the lifter bounced through the upper atmosphere of the target world jolting me awake. All around me, troopers looked worried and a little green.

In the center of the aisle between two rows of seated troops was a vacuum-powered drain. When someone popped open their faceplate and leaned forward to puke, the drain turned on, whirring. It always seemed to know when there was work to be done. The rest of us tried not to watch. Vomit could become contagious during a rough reentry.

The pilot began to relay vid feeds from outside the ship to our helmets. I selected the input and displayed it inside my faceplate. The vid was distracting, for which I was grateful, but it wasn’t comforting.

The arid planet we were hurtling toward was big and windy, but we couldn’t feel that yet. We were just below the exosphere now and falling down into the thermosphere. Outside the ship, there was nothing to speak of in the way of breathable air at this point, and only enough gravity to pull the puke gently toward the drain under our metal boots.

But there was enough gas outside the lifter to bump us around. We hung on grimly, not talking much. What was there to say? We’d land then we’d get out and fight if we had to. I don’t think anyone knew what we were getting ourselves into, not even the Primus herself.

Watching the vids, I saw snakes of dust crawling over endless dunes. I couldn’t see any of the tropical valleys we were supposed to be targeting. What I did see was a constant parade of sandstorms rolling over the desolate landscape.

We began powering down and heating up with friction as we punched through layer after layer of the atmosphere. It never seemed to smooth out the way it did at the end back on Earth. I checked the surface temperature and sighed. It was about fifty degrees Celsius down there. 

Carlos beeped my helmet. I answered his call reluctantly.

“What?” I demanded.

“Have you been checking out the travel brochure? Looks pretty sweet, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe—if you’re some kind of desert scorpion.”

Carlos laughed. “Just like home,” he said. “The Sahara Desert, that is. Highs in the upper fifties with bags of sunshine—wish you were here!”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn’t complain. Carlos often dealt with stressful situations by making jokes—even if they didn’t make much sense.

Five long minutes later, the lifter heaved and then came to a final, thumping stop. It felt like someone had hit the bottom of my boots and the seat of my armor with a hammer all at the same time.

“At least they didn’t make us jump out,” Adjunct Leeson complained next to me.

We slapped off their buckles and got to our feet—at least, everyone in my squad did. The rest sat there watching us. Thirty troops took thirty seconds to arrange their gear and then a huge grinding sound began.

We all looked toward the exit ramp. A brilliant glare of light was expected—but we didn’t see that. Instead I saw a cool, gloomy light. It was almost purple; the shade of twilight before the last rays of the sun are extinguished and night takes over.

“What’s the temp out there?” I asked Carlos, who was still on a private line to my helmet.

“Thirty degrees C,” he said. “Can that be right? That’s like—reasonable.”

I didn’t have time to answer him. Leeson gave me a rude shove from behind. The servos in the auto-balancing systems of my suit whined in protest.

“Get moving, McGill. We’ll be right behind you.”

I pushed past the other troopers, who were all heavies in armor. My metal scratched theirs, leaving white lines on the burnished surfaces, but no one complained. They’d heard the adjunct’s order, and no one wanted to take my place.

I marched down the ramp with my tube set for a long-distance shot with a narrow energy-spread. I figured there probably weren’t going to be aliens waiting on the ground for us. It would probably take them a while to get to the landing site even if they’d been watching us come down.

When I came out of the bottom of the lifter and saw my surroundings, I was taken by surprise. The land was beautiful, not harsh and ugly as I’d expected. I’d been visualizing a desert, but instead what met my gaze were a thousand lush-looking plants. They weren’t quite like plants from home, but you could tell they were full of water and life.

Most of them looked like some kind of huge flower. Thick stalks led up to massive growths that came in a riot of colors. Under the stalks of each plant was a spray of meaty-looking blue-green leaves. These leaves, stalks and even the flowers themselves all looked like they had a waxy coating on them. Maybe it was just their natural texture—I couldn’t be sure. Whatever they were, I knew I wasn’t going to be the first guy to touch
one or, God-forbid, eat one. The bio people would have to run a load of tests before anyone dared to do that.

Besides the towering flowers all around the ship, there wasn’t much else to see other than the canyon walls that surrounded us. Far, far above was a vast circle of glaring yellow light. The circle wasn’t the star, however. It was only the hazy sky of the surface world, filled with dust. I was looking up from the bottom of a deep hole in the planet’s crust.

Behind me, I heard clanking footsteps. The rest of the squad was on the ramp coming down to join me. We took up defensive firing positions among the flowers, but there didn’t seem to be any need.

“No trees?” Carlos complained. “What kind of a jungle has no trees?”

“An alien one,” I answered.

“What’s that, McGill?” Leeson demanded. “Report, Specialist.”

“Sorry sir. Nothing here. No enemy contact. No sign of civilization. There’s nothing out here other than some really, really big orchids.”

“Good.”

Leeson finally appeared at my side along with Veteran Harris. Had they been hiding inside the ship at the top of the ramp?

“Nice of you two to join the party,” I said. “Pick a flower—we have plenty.”

“Keep your eyes on the horizon, McGill,” Harris said.

I turned back to the scene encircling the ship. I couldn’t see much. I noticed there was a fine layer of silt on the ground. It must filter down from the sky overhead all the time.

Carlos opened his faceplate. I think he was probably the first.

“Air checks out,” he said when he saw us staring at him. “It tastes a little dusty, but all my monitors say it’s breathable.”

Harris, Leeson and I kept our faceplates closed. We watched Carlos closely, and I knew we were all wondering when he might keel over. Sure, the atmospheric sensors were glowing green, but they didn’t always pick up airborne toxins.

Carlos investigated the environment while Leeson called down the next squad. He loudly claimed we’d secured the perimeter. I didn’t think we’d done any such thing, but I kept my mouth shut.

“These leaves are waxy and coated with mucus,” Carlos said, faintly disgusted.

Anne Grant came down to investigate. “That’s sap,” she said.

She had her faceplate up too, and I privately thought they were both crazy.

“Sap?” Carlos said. “Green plant-blood? I don’t think so.”

Specialist Grant investigated further. “You have a point. It seems to be moving over the plant, flowing downward. Look what happens when I let some dirt fall on this leaf.”

We watched her experiment, but
I tried to keep my eyes on the cliff walls which were alarmingly close.

“I’m developing a theory,” Anne said, sounding excited. “This waxy, sticky coating flowing over the plant is an adaptation designed to protect it.”

“Protect against what?” asked Carlos, yanking his gauntlet back and rubbing it on his armored legs.

“I’m not saying it’s poisonous. The coating defends these growths against the endless sifting dust that falls from above. It works like the wet lining of your throat and sinuses, carrying away debris.”

“What the hell for?” asked Carlos.

“There can’t be much rain here, and they only get reflected light from the walls of the canyon. The water all comes from underground. If the dust constantly falls and covers their leaves, the plants must have trouble with photosynthesis. If the leaves became too dusty, they’d die, so they’ve developed a way to filter the dust away.”

“That’s an excellent theory, Grant,” Centurion Graves said, joining the conversation. “But I don’t really give a damn about the plant life. What I need to know is if we’re alone down here.”

“
Sir, you’ll have to scout the area for that.”

Centurion Graves turned to Leeson. “Take a squad north. The central lake has to lie in that direction. I’ll have Adjunct Toro go in the opposite direction to locate the canyon wall. If you find anything useful or dangerous, report in.”

“Uh,” said Leeson, “what about the rest of the cohort?”

“I’ll give the all-clear and we’ll disembark. I think it’s pretty obvious we didn’t land in the middle of an ambush. Our core force will set up camp around the lifter to defend it.”

Grumbling, Leeson led Veteran Harris, me and the rest of the squad northward. The adjunct seemed to be in a sour mood.

“Graves must have it in for Leeson,” Carlos told me quietly. “I bet his dog crapped all over the Centurion’s lawn back on Earth.”

Carlos’ idea made me smile, but I didn’t think he was right. Graves didn’t need a reason to order a man to die. He just did it out of habit. If he thought your death was a good idea—you might as well accept what was coming. If a trooper’s death would benefit the legion, even in terms of convenience or cost-savings, you were as good as dead. Even perma-death was negotiable.

Pushing through what amounted to a thicket of fleshy, sticky-leafed flowers was strange enough, but when we reached the lake’s edge we were in for another shock.

“What in the holy hell are those things?” Carlos asked.

“Fish, I think,” Anne answered.

Whatever they were, they were weird. They looked like floating rocks. They had no eyes or fins in sight. These creatures were all over the surface of the water, drifting up to the surface then down again. They varied in size and markings from little guys no bigger than my hand to monsters a full meter in length. At our approach, they moved slowly in our direction.

“They seem to know we’re here,” I said. “Maybe the rock-look is camouflage.”

“You might be right,” Anne said, standing next to me. She was clearly excited by the find and stared intently as the creatures approached us. “If they have adopted camouflage, that indicates they must have a predatory species that hunts them.”

I nodded, watching the “fish”.

“They must have some way of sensing us,” I said, “and some kind of limbs underneath that rough-looking top we can see. They remind me a bit of gators in the swamps back home. But they don’t have a uniform appearance from one creature to the next.”

“Rock-fish,” Carlos said, coming up behind us. “That’s what they are.”

“Who asked you?” I demanded.

“I named them first. That’s how it works when you discover something. First guy to speak up gets to be famous.”

Anne gave him a look, twisting her lips. “Rock-fish… All right. I’ll enter it into my logs.”

“Make sure you spell my name right,” Carlos said, crowding close to her. “Carlos Ortiz. That’s with a ‘Z’ at the end.”

“Okay, enough admiring the wildlife,” Veteran Harris said, slamming his gauntlets together. “Who’s going to kill one and eat it first?”

Everyone looked alarmed. I pointed at Carlos. “He named them. He’s the expert here.”

“Hold on!” Carlos protested. “I don’t know what they taste like. They might be poisonous.”

“That’s right,” Harris said, grinning. “But our mission is to find foodstuffs. We’re stuck here, remember? You might have saved the entire legion with your rock-fish if we can eat them safely. Now, quit being a candy-ass and catch one of those things.”

Unhappy and complaining, Carlos lowered his faceplate and stepped into the water at a shallow point. The lake became deep quickly. He was up to his knees only one step out.

The rock-fish retreated at first, then came gently drifting closer again. They were like ducks, I thought, ducks at a park that were used to being fed.

Harris had a huge grin on his face. He came up behind Carlos and surprised him, with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Carlos swayed and we could hear the servos in his suit whining to keep him steady.

“Hey! Careful, Vet!”

I felt a bit sorry for Carlos. This sort of thing happened to him all too often. He had a way of making people want to kill him. I was sure everyone in the unit had at least fantasized about doing it.

Harris kept his hand on Carlos’ shoulder.

“They say this soupy lake is over two kilometers deep,” he told Carlos. “And it goes almost straight down from the edge. You’re standing on a little shelf of sand—did you know that? Now, don’t step out too far Ortiz! You’ll sink like a rock in that armor—and you know how I hate to lose a good suit of armor.”

“
Yeah,” Carlos said. “Thanks for the warning. I think for safety’s sake I’ll move to the shore.”