Teape opened up on the wildly scrabbling creatures, crying out in rage and disgust. Dozens, hundreds clattered through the shaft, alien carriers flocking for prey. The pulse of firepower sent acid and spidery bodies flying, the monsters only shrieking as they died. The chemical scent of melting plasticrete quickly overpowered the cloying stink of the dead body.
“Door!” Jess shouted, and Lara inched back toward the control panel, dealing a path in shattered chunks of acid-spewing body parts.
Teape felt a burst of self-righteous glee with each screech that signified another death, his rifle hailing pain and destruction across the leaping, crawling face-huggers. They scrambled over spurting pieces of their siblings, desperate to plant their parasitic seed.
Pulaski swung the smart gun in wide, sweeping arcs, taking out the bulk of the swarming horde as Jess and Teape fired at those that crawled out to the sides. Lara reached the control panel and engaged, the door sliding closed as she blew away another of the crawling nightmares.
Jess covered Lara as the heavily insulated door panels crunched over seeping acid and bone, the creatures scrabbling to get through in time. Teape blew apart another one in a burst of fire and sound, the vile spat of the exploding creeper, louder now as the elevator sealed.
Another skittered toward him, impossibly quick on clattering legs, its long, ribbed tail thrusting it forward. Teape cut it in half, deeply satisfied as the hard shell fragmented and spun away, its death cry a strangled metallic screech.
Next to him, the Candyman grinned as he sprayed the ticks with caseless rounds; the automatic weapon swept smoothly on its mount, creatures targeted by the infra sensor.
From behind a mound of smoldering bodies another face-hugger sprang at Teape. He grinned, too, feeling strong and in control as the pulse of bullets peppered the alien baby.
Not gonna get me, you shit! Not me—!
He fired again and again, the movements in front of him sporadic now. The corridor was littered with dozens of smoking embryo carriers, twitching as they died.
Teape turned and searched for a target, but nothing moved. Pulaski had stopped, too, and Jess lifted his rifle and held up one hand. Silence, except for the hiss of smoking paneling and a faint ringing in Teape’s ears, the aftermath of explosive battle.
“We got a reception committee, Pop,” said Jess, and exhaled sharply. “Looks like—”
The rest of his words were lost as Lara gasped and fired. Teape looked over just in time to see that they had missed one, a coiled tick in the doorframe that had waited for an opportunity to spring.
Lara’s shot went clear as the face-hugger launched itself at her. Teape tracked the creature but couldn’t fire for risk of hitting Lara, saw Candyman and Jess do the same.
Lara dropped her weapon. Her hands flew up to her head and covered her mouth in the split second before it reached her. The creature struck her face, sent her reeling backward against the wall. The spidery legs wrapped around her helmet, and Teape knew it was only a matter of seconds.
Lara wasn’t wearing a mask; if the face-hugger did its job, she was as good as dead.
* * *
Jess didn’t stop to think as Lara collapsed to the deck. In two steps he was at her side, rifle dropped next to hers.
“Lara!” Pop shouted into his ear, a cry of panic and fear.
The face-hugger wasn’t seated properly, Lara’s hands in its way. The long, taloned legs clutched her helmet tightly; the thick ovipositor pushed at the back of her hand, the thick tail looped around her throat and tightening. She gasped for air, struggling to keep the muscular creature from getting a solid grip. The tail slipped tighter, the face-hugger working to render her unconscious so it could complete its task.
Lara’s wide, searching gaze found Jess’s as he grabbed at one of the leathery limbs and the tail. It was strong, hunching its abdomen closer to her purpling, terrified face even as he pulled. She convulsed, body tightening and legs kicking out. It had cut off her air.
“Hold still,” said Jess, and Teape was suddenly on Lara’s other side, fingers grasping for a hold around the slickly plated tail. Jess focused on the leg with both hands, arms straining as he took a deep breath and yanked. There was a muffled crack and a tendril of acid blood trickled over the helmet, the creature silent even in pain.
“Over here!” Pulaski shouted, behind and to the left.
Teape had worked the tail loose. Jess snatched at another leg. There was no time, the alien blood deterred by the helmet’s coating but still seeping toward Lara’s forehead in a hissing stream. She pulled in a ragged breath and tried to keep still.
Jess looked at Teape. “On one!”
Teape nodded, gripped the tail as it whipped wildly.
“One!”
Jess and Teape yanked and threw the frantically scrabbling creature away from Lara. Jess watched just long enough to see it hit the ground in front of Pulaski.
“Got it—!” A short burst of fire and the crippled alien shrieked and died. For a change, the Candyman wasn’t laughing.
Jess grabbed for the canister of neutralizer on his belt as Teape carefully unlatched her helmet. Lara still drew in long, shuddering gasps but didn’t move; Jess wondered randomly if he would’ve remembered his training so well had it happened to him.
His thumb found the trigger and a tight stream of acid neutralizer sprayed across her helmet and clouded it pale green. Even as the chemical did its work, the alien blood dribbled harmlessly onto her clear brow.
“You’re okay, you’re clear,” said Jess, and Lara closed her eyes, tears squeezing out from the corners as the sharp fumes enveloped her face. When she opened them, Jess smiled at her gently.
He could see gratitude and relief in her wet blue gaze, her breathing shaky but calmer, easier. Teape laid a hand on one of her trembling shoulders and smiled lopsidedly.
“If you wanted my job, all you had to do was ask,” he said. Pulaski joined them, grinning.
“That little fucker is a stain,” he said, and Jess grinned himself; it was as close as the Candyman came to expressing sympathy.
“Thanks,” she whispered, and coughed. Pop broke in again, ignoring procedure to keep silent until reported to.
“Lara, are you okay?” His voice was sugary with concern and emotion.
Lara closed her eyes again, but not before Jess saw a flash of anger. She sat up slowly but didn’t respond to the question.
“She’s all right, Pop, over,” said Jess. He didn’t know the exact situation, but it was obvious that Lara didn’t have dick to say to Izzard; Jess wondered how that would sit with their esteemed commander.
Jess and Teape helped her up and they retrieved weapons, checking for splatters of blood on their armor. The hall was awash in pieces of face-hugger and bubbling puddles of dark acid, eating random passages through the deck as it melted through. Clouds of toxic-smelling smoke drifted away in the dead air, the stink of the rotting corpse already back.
“Well, that sucked. Maybe the stairs are a better option,” said Lara, her face paled but contained. She motioned at a door near the end of the corridor and smiled weakly.
Jess nodded, impressed by how together she was. Not because she was a woman—some of the bravest volunteers he’d ever known had been female, in spite of what guys like Pulaski mouthed. But he’d seen soldiers lose it after an attack like that one, torn apart by facing their own deaths, unable to go on without help. Lara tightened her equipment pack and waited.
“Pop, I’m calling secure, over.” Jess didn’t want to, but there was no time to clear; the drones would be coming soon, if they weren’t already on their way.
“Copy that,” said Pop, and his voice was now a blank wall.
“Let’s move out, then. Candyman, lead off,” said Jess.
“You know it,” breathed Pulaski. He moved toward the closed stairwell and activated the smart gun’s tracker before opening the door, his broad shoulders tight. Nothing moved.
Teape and Lara followed, Jess taking the rear as they descended through the quiet wasteland of station 949.
* * *
The Candyman slipped down the tightly angled stairs, unable to see more than a couple of meters ahead because of the curve. He watched the weapon’s built-in tracker, pleased as all shit to be in control of the M56 and still pumped from the face-hugger action.
Man, that Lara was one cool client; he respected anyone who could get up after nearly gettin’ dorked and corked and crack a joke. He went off a lot about boobs and stuff, but there were girls he thought were pretty kick-ass. His wife had set him straight on that.
He moved the M56’s barrel back and forth and took in the blank readings through the setup’s eyepiece. The smart gun tracked automatically using infrared sensors, feeding him information through the headset beneath his helmet. On full open, the weapon had a cyclic rate of something like 1,200 rpm; this one had a heatsink installed and was loaded to capacity.
So come on already, bugfucks, the Candyman’s waitin’….
He could hear the others a few meters back, quiet except for the soft sound of footsteps on metal. It was warmer than it should be, and humid—but the stairs were clean, no burns or blood.
He stopped at a level platform in front of the first door and swept the weapon, but there was no movement on the other side. Gooddamn, where were they? The bugs had been here two weeks on a station packed with civilians; they shoulda been breaking down walls to get at live flesh.
Pulaski sighed. “Clear to first door,” he said heavily. “Goin’ down.”
He turned back to the steps and the sensor ticked to life, a blur of motion maybe three meters ahead. He grinned, knuckles tightening on the rear grip of the smart gun.
“Hold up, I got movement—!” The wired plexi over his right eye listed coordinates and stats, but all he needed was for it to come on up; looked like a single drone, creeping slowly, stealthy…
The Candyman breathed easily, his brain buzzing and eager for XT bloodshed. The dim stairwell was silent now; nothing moved.
He heard it at the same time the sensor showed another meter spanned, a single step for a drone. A low, guttural hiss reached his ears and he felt a trickle of sweat run down the small of his back.
With a screeching, trumpeting cry, the creature jumped the distance and landed in front of Pulaski. Its talons were spread wide, tail slashing the air behind it; the inner set of dark metal teeth were revealed in a dripping snarl, the long skull improbably big for the tall, insectoid body.
The Candyman let the weapon lead his movements, squeezing the trigger as the drone prepared to leap again.
The burst of rounds shattered the bug, its abdomen suddenly a churning explosion of fire and evaporating fluid. Its guts were obliterated, the shards of exoskeleton blowing backward to clatter on the stairs.
The M56 tracked the scattering pieces as the animal collapsed, pitching back and landing heavily in a smoking pool of its own blood a few steps down. Pulaski eagerly checked the sensor, primed for a firelight—
“One stinkin’ bug,” he said, and sighed. “Stairs is clear, goin’ down.”
He stepped over one massive curled claw, kicking at it in disgust. Bugs was ugly, skinny muscled legs and arms, huge claws and feet, tall enough to look down on him, even. There weren’t eyes in that dusky banana-shaped head, just teeth within teeth—the inner jaws could extend outward and catch, lightning fast.
He moved down, past the hissing, smoking mass of dead drone, alert again for movement and sound; one bug and a handful of face-huggers were at least a start. This wasn’t like going into the heat, but it wasn’t too bad; beat the crap outa hanging out at some vacation spot, anyway.
The Candyman reached the foot of the stairs and stepped through the open doorway of the command center area, getting a good look as he swept for life.
“Ya’ll better come take a look at this,” he said softly, and in spite of his desire to see some action, the view chilled him; blowing up bugs was fun, it revved him up, made him feel like a man.
Seeing what they could do, though, on a scale like this one… the coppery scent of blood was thick in the humid air. Pulaski looked away and waited for the team to meet him.