Stormfall - Chapter 5

I cautiously peeked out of the subway’s entrance. A chilly breeze blew over me, though it was pushed back slightly as Black Dog moved up next to me. He pressed into my side right in a gap between my armor and undershirt. 

The rain had backed off at some point. Not stopped—at least not entirely. It just retreated enough that it could pretend to have manners once more. It wasn’t that black fluid anymore, though.

The sky hung low and heavy. It was a single, solid sheet of dark grey that pressed down on the city like it wanted the buildings to kneel. Several crumbling behemoths stood bearing the weight for their brethren.

The street outside was slick with runoff. Puddles caught the broken reflections of light here and there. Warped advertisements still flashed occasionally with phantom power, only to inevitably shut off once more like it was a distorted dance. I made it a point not to stare too long.

The black rain had certainly left its mark. It didn’t erode any more than normal rain, but thin stains clung to cracks in cement like twisted veins. The air smelled wrong too. It was metallic and faintly sour in a way that made the back of my throat itch. I couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for my loyal hound.

”Looks clear,” I called back down the stairs. My voice sounded far too loud in the open air. “Evil rain’s done. For now, at least.”

Boots shifted behind me. Velos clompled up the stairs and crouched to prevent sky lighting. His rifle neatly rested against the edge of the concrete step. He carefully panned the street with the slow, deliberate calm of someone who’d learned what panic cost.

“Velmir.” His voice came out quiet and commanding. “Readings?”

Velmir moved up the stairs next to us. The grenadier hastily crouched on the stairs just like his sergeant and pulled out his Geiger counter. The device clicked a few times in a slow, lazy rhythm. “Down from earlier. Radiations levels are still elevated, but it looks like that part of the storm passed.”

”Figures.” Nothing was ever easy. “Will it cook us?”

Velmir shook his head. ”No, ma’am. Not unless you plan on spending a few years here.”

“Still, the sky could turn nasty again with no warning.” Velos leaned back and glanced at the squad before resettling his gaze on Velmir. “Okay, keep the counter near and ready. Let me know the instant something changes.”

”Sir.” The shocktrooper saluted and pulled his rifle back up.

I leaned out a little farther and pointed across the street. “Museum over there. We can cut through and stay under cover.”

The building was an ornate looking one with what was once white columns framing the entry. A sign above the doors still clung to the stone facade. Rust half-choked the letters. Museum of Scorpio Colonization.

Scorpio, huh? It was a much better name for the planet than B-XXXII-32VII-13287F. Actually having a name for the planet just made the decay and ruin of the city sink in even further though. These streets used to be populated and thriving, and now it was little more than a water-logged husk.

Velos hesitated a moment. “Fleff?”

Fleff replaced Velmir and slung the heavy radio unit over his chest. He twisted a few dials and listened to the static. It sounded entirely the same to me, but the radioman had a much better understanding of it. “Interference is still south. We’re getting close.”

Velos exhaled through his nose and ran a thumb along the receiver of his rifle. “Museum it is. Buddy up. Nobody wanders.”

“I guess that makes us partners.” I tapped my forehead lightly against Black Dog’s.

The shaggy wolfhound shuddered like I’d just injected him with poison. “What a horrifying thought.”

”I might actually cry at this rate.” I wiped a fake tear from my eye. The next moment, I turned serious and looked up toward the dark museum. “Keep watch.”

His long, shadow tendril-like tail loosely wrapped around my wrist. A flash of heat followed and a spark harmlessly defused against my arm guard. “It’ll be fine.”

“So you say.” So far, enclosed spaces hadn't done me any good. I wasn’t expecting that to change any time soon. 

I ran through my equipment. Rifle—in its sling. Mags—check. I had more than enough unless we got into a shoot out. Sidearm was likewise in its thigh holster. Knife—wait, where the hell was my knife?

”You moved it to your back.” Black Dog saw through me easily and helped out. His tail flicked around and drew the rugged knife and its sheath from one of my pouches.

”Oh, right… thanks.” I moved the knife to one of the thigh straps that held my holster and armor.

Once we moved, I somehow ended up drifting toward the back of the formation. No one said anything, and there were no gestures. It just kinda happened. They moved with the quiet, instinctive finesse of well-trained soldiers. Really, it was only natural I drifted somewhere more out of their way.

The museum doors were sealed tight. Thick reinforced glass smeared with grim reflected our lights back at us. “Johnson, get this open.”

One of the grenadiers split from the squad and moved to the door. He tried just shattering the glass with the butt of his rifle, but the glass was the resistant kind. He bounced off without so much as scratching the stuff. After that fumble, he pulled out a block of white putty—

“I can pick the lock,” I offered before he could keep setting up the det-pack. We couldn’t afford to waste materials like that without knowing when our next resupply would be. Besides, in the worst case scenario I could get Black Dog to melt through.

The bulky grenadier froze mid-motion and glanced toward Velos. At his nod, he backed away and stuffed the det-pack back into a pouch. “After you, then.”

The squad peeled back and widened the circle around us. I set my pack down, rifled through it for my picks, and got to work. My fingers remembered the motions better than my head did. Pressure, tension, the whisper of metal—it all fell into place instinctively.

Still, it took me longer than it would’ve used to. My hands weren’t shaky or anything like that, but they sure as hell were rusty. Didn’t have much need for lockpicking in the pit. Still, a skill once learned was not easily forgotten.

The heavy-duty glass door clicked open. I straightened and stepped aside. “Let’s keep moving.”

The museum was dark and stale. The air was thick with old dust and rot that failed to penetrate my helmet. Our lights cut through the gloom in overlapping cones, revealing a lobby that had once been quite something. 

Now, the floors were crackled and pitted. Display stands lay on their sides or in pieces. Water dripped steadily from a jagged hole in the roof, covering the floor in a slick layer.

Black Dog lifted lifted his head. “Blood.

The grip on my rifle tightened. That didn’t bode well. ”Fresh?”

His head tilted to the side and his ears flopped around. ”A couple days, maybe.” 

Before Stormfall dropped onto the planet, then. So much for this planet being uninhabited. I spoke up to the rest of the squad, “Keep your eyes peeled. There’s blood in the air.”

We moved deeper into gutted exhibits and desecrated displays. Some rooms looked like they’d been stripped clean long ago. Others showed signs of much more recent passage. Drag marks cut streaks through the dust. No footprints though. Only something noticeably clawed.

While passing an empty exhibit, I caught a low exchange from behind. Fleff spoke quietly, but it still echoed in the relative silence of the museum. “This place is bad luck.”

Morose snorted softly and punched the man in the arm. “You say that about every city.”

”Because it's true about every city…”

I pretended not to hear, just like everyone else in the squad. Besides, they wouldn’t want me crashing their party any more than I already was.

Light filtered down the hall from up in front.  I waved a hand back toward the squad and slowed my approach. Next to me, Black Dog’s ambient glow cut out almost entirely. Not that it mattered. With all our flashlights and the steps of eleven people, anything that was here would know we were coming by now.

The hall spilled out into a grand chamber with a shattered skylight. Light streamed through the clouds and cast the room in a dim glow that was easily overpowered by our flashlights.

My eyes caught on bones. Far too many for just one or two things to die here. Some were human, though most weren’t. Probably from whatever twisted xenobiology existed on this planet. 

On the far side of the room, cloth and metal were pulled together into a nest looking thing. Something made this place a home, which drew my alert levels even sharper than before. 

Aged bones lay scattered over the place clad in tactical armor. A familiar shoulder patch caught my eye. Taj Jamaal Contractors. We weren’t the first PMC group to show up here. Their ending couldn’t be any clearer too. Oh joy.

Sergeant Velos made a series of hand motions and the squad spilled out of the hall behind me. They immediately scattered and rounded the chamber with their lights flashing through the darkness erratically. 

“It’s not here.” Black Dog muttered. He dropped his head to the ground and he paced further into the chamber. “Same kind of creature as the one that stole our dead pilot. Three or four days old.”

I trusted the hound and stepped out into the chamber to get a better look at the dead contractors. “Can you tell—“

My radio shrieked to life. Static tore through my helmet loud enough to make me wince. A panicked, breathless voice punched through a beat later. “This is Saber-Three! Engaged with unknown hostile—non-standard movement, and possibly xenos in nature. Falling back to the center of Rekon Arcology. Need backup yesterday. Over!”

“Copy Saber-Three.” I pressed the transmit button on my helmet and waved to Sergeant Velos. Although not everyone had radios, Fleff and Velos definitely did. “Grid is offline. Advise nav with nearest landmark. Over.”

”Look for the big fuck-off tower. Tallest point on this side of the city.” Gunfire thundered over the channel. It came sustained, frantic, and close enough to the radioman I could hear rounds slamming something solid. “S-seven left, and one critical. Over.”

“Copy, Saber-Three. Big tower spotted and Iron-Four is en route. ETA ten mikes. Hold out if able.” A new voice crackled across the line. It came across sharp and controlled, completely contrasting the other. “Do you have a visual?”

”Negative—Fuck! Bruno, move—!” The transmission cut off mid-breath. No explosion or gunshot. Just absolute silence.

”Saber-Three, how copy?” I hit the transmit button once more. “Saber-Three, come in!”

No response came. Instead, it was Velos that spoke up. “We need to move. Anyone see the arcology on our way in?”

“Hard to miss.” Johnson lifted a hand and pointed in his best estimate of its direction. “Somewhere south, sir.”

”What are the chances it's the source of our interference too?” Black Dog coughed lightly when my gaze dropped to him. “Just saying. Tallest point this side of the city would be an ideal setup place for plenty of reasons.”

“Maybe.” I patted his head gently and refocused back on Velos.

“Double-time, but stay close. No telling what attacked them, and I’d rather not follow in their footsteps.” Velos slapped his rifle and nodded to me. “Anything else, ma’am?”

I hesitated for just a moment. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because my mind was still on the last transmission. It cut off clean. Too clean… whatever we were dealing with might be more than just an animal. Scavengers? Hmm… no, the radioman would’ve known if it was scavs.

”I think you summed it up perfectly.” I pulled away from Black Dog. “Let’s get moving before it's too late.”

Lighting flashed above the broken skylight. Thunder rumbled across the sky a moment later like the broken roar of a dying animal. I was never one to stop and think things through too deeply. I stopped hesitating and led the way into the dark.

— - —

AN: It took me a seriously long time to figure out how I wanted to label planets and all that. B-XXXII-32VII-13287F took forever, and several galactic map iterations, to figure out.