Predator - Incursion (3 page)

Launching internal diagnostics, she quickly focused attention on the area of her wound and the associated components. It took less than a second to reassure herself that her internal hard disc was undamaged. A fragment of bone had been blasted from Roberts’ ribs by the pulse rifle charge. It had entered her stomach and passed out through her side, missing vital internal systems and barely skimming the porcelain surround that protected her hard disc.

Though breathing wasn’t essential, Liliya still gasped a sigh of relief.

Everything was on there. Not only what Wordsworth had asked for, but everything for which the
Evelyn-Tew
had been designed. All that research. All those hours, days and years of analysis, experimentation, trial and error… and the errors had almost ended it all.

The Company had come far. Their research into the Xenomorph samples from LV-178 had advanced further than anyone could have imagined, or hoped for. Though the strange species was still an enigma, the information now contained in Liliya’s hard disc shed more light than anything that humans had ever discovered before.

Soon, the
Evelyn-Tew
would crash into Alpha Centurai. If they weren’t already dead, everyone on board who still retained an inkling of the research would be destroyed.

Liliya had already confirmed that in their desperation to escape, anyone who might survive in the jettisoned escape pods had not had a chance to take any of the precious research with them. She possessed the last known copy, and she was taking it to Wordsworth.

Confident now that treating her wound could come later, she examined the escape pod’s computer and assessed its limited flight capabilities. In such a catastrophic situation it was pre-programmed to take her to the nearest planet, moon, or asteroid, but she initiated a manual override. There was still seventy-three percent of an engine burn left, and she estimated that it could get her up to point-oh-four light speed. That was enough. By the time any rescue ships arrived, she would be gone from their scanners. Lost to the void.

She composed a short, coded message for the Founders, then set it broadcasting on a twenty-hourly loop.

When she blinked she saw Roberts blasted back against her, Dearing’s head taken apart by the beast. The human part of her—the strongest part, and the side she had been promoting for as long as she could remember—hated what she had done. However human she felt, though, she knew that she had been built to last a long, long while.

As long as was necessary.

After repairing the damage in her stomach and sealing the wound, Liliya initiated the burn, then settled down to pass some time.

Southgate Station 12, Outer Rim research facility
March 2692
AD

Lieutenant Johnny Mains never got used to seeing them close-up. Alive or dead, a Yautja was a weird-looking creature. Ostensibly humanoid, yet there was so much about them that was so inhuman that traditional classification systems just didn’t seem adequate.

Freaky bastard
, he thought. That described it well enough.

“L-T,” Cotronis said. The corporal stood beside him, close enough for their shoulders to touch. She was still breathing hard. He saw the splash of blood across her bald head. Human blood. He never really got used to seeing that, either.

Mains raised an eyebrow, but he could see the truth in her eyes.

“Willis didn’t make it,” she said. She blinked quickly, sweat running into her eyes and tears running out.

“Probably a good thing,” he said softly. “Messed up like that, Brian wouldn’t have wanted to go on.”

“You can’t say that,” Cotronis said. In private, with only other VoidLarks in earshot, none of them used formal military speak, and no one pulled rank. They’d been out here together too long to require false monikers to display deep respect.

“I can,” Mains said. “I’ve known him for a long time. Longer even than you.”

“And Lizzie?”

He’d seen Private Lizzie Reynolds go down fighting when she’d taken on the first of the two Yautja. She’d been protecting a man and two young kids, and she’d got a few good shots in with her nano-rifle before the alien took her head.

“She died well,” Mains said. “She died fighting.”

“So what now?”

Mains sighed, then turned away from the dead Yautja. They’d have to put it on ice and send it back with what was left of the station’s crew. The Company rarely got its hands on such a complete specimen, and there was still so little known about this enigmatic species. He couldn’t help admiring their martial abilities. He couldn’t help hating them, either. Willis and Reynolds weren’t the first troops he’d lost to them, but they were the first of the VoidLarks to be killed in action.

“Let’s do a full sweep of the station,” he said. “Take Faulkner and Lieder and make a few circuits outside, secure a perimeter. I’ll get Snowdon and McVicar to tie down the base’s interior.”

“Right.” Cotronis sounded uncertain, even fragile.

“Sara?” Mains said.

She looked at him sidelong.

“You fought well. We all did. We lost two, we took down two. You know that’s a good result against these bastards.”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

He reached out and grasped her upper arm, squeezing through the combat suit. She smiled. Then Cotronis left to muster the troops, leaving Mains standing beside the Yautja’s corpse.

Its left leg flickered in and out of focus. The third blast from his laser rifle had severed its hand at the wrist, and the control panel it wore on its forearm was sparking and spitting. He knew well enough to disable its weapons systems—Snowdon, more knowledgeable than any of them in Yautja tech, had done that—but the dead alien’s stealth field was still cycling, as if to take it away from death.

Mains shoved it with his boot and its head lolled, tusks clacking against the floor.

The 5th Excursionists, nicknamed the VoidLarks by Mains on their first day out from an Outer Rim drophole, had been patrolling space beyond the Outer Rim for a little over three standard years. In that time they had only interacted with other people on three occasions. This was the third, and the most traumatic.

The death toll among Southgate Station 12’s scientists and support staff was still being ascertained, but initial reports suggested the pair of Yautja had stalked, hunted, and killed at least seventeen in their two days on the ground. Ten of those were indies, mercenaries hired by the station commander to provide protection. Mains knew there were more bodies yet to be found. They hadn’t yet discovered either of the Yautja’s nests.

When they did, there would be trophies.

It could have been so many more. The research station maintained a permanent population of over a hundred, and almost eighty people were gathered in the canteen, being looked after by the commander and the remaining few indies. Shocked, traumatized, still not really understanding what had happened, or why, they were preparing to be sent back deeper into the Human Sphere. Where, Mains didn’t know, nor did he care. Away from here was all that mattered. This place was tainted now, and though it wasn’t like Weyland-Yutani to waste anything, Southgate Station 12 would likely remain unoccupied for a good while.

Mains checked his combat suit’s status. There was no damage. Laser charge on his sidearm was low. His com-rifle ammo and charge were at eighty percent, and his shotgun was a reassuring weight on his back. It was a fully restored antique, but it had saved his skin ten years before on Addison Prime when his unit was sent in against a rogue Marines outfit. He’d been a corporal then, and it had been his first firefight against other trained soldiers. He’d held his own, and when his suit’s CSU went down and all his weapons went offline, it was the shotgun that had saved his life.

“L-T?” The voice buzzed from the comm implant in his ear.

“Yeah, Snowdon.”

“Sir, the base commander wants to talk to you. He’s demanding to know what happens next. Sir.”

Mains smiled. He could hear the nervous tension and humor in Snowdon’s voice. She was a good fighter and an experienced soldier, but she didn’t take any shit. Especially from people they’d just lost two friends fighting to protect.

“Tell him what happens next is, he sucks my dick.”

Snowdon snorted laughter. “So, shut down the base?”

“Yeah, that’ll do. Tell him to commence shutdown. Whatever it is they do here, it needs to be closed up ready for them to leave, say, a day from now.”

“Yes, Sir. So we’ll be leaving soon after that?”

Mains turned away from the Yautja corpse, the blast holes in the walls, the stark laser scars across the ceiling, and looked around. It was a large dormitory, set up for a single family with sleeping area, a dining compartment, and a recreation corner with holo-stage gaming consoles that rivaled some of the hardware they had on the ship, complete with comfortable seating.

The atmosphere controls leveled the temperature comfortably, and low-level lighting made it feel almost like home. Someone else’s home, sure, but that was good enough.

The dormitory was almost as big as the whole rec room on their ship, the
Ochse
, and the rest of the base was just as expansive, with freshly grown food from a green dome and a leisure complex that included pool and gym. He could see the allure of staying here for a while. He could feel it, and he hated that. Mains’s concentration was already slipping, his alertness relaxing, and the temptation to slip into some undefined period of rest and relaxation was strong.

“You know we will,” he said to Snowdon. “This is an unusual attack, and I want to get back on-station as quickly as possible. That Yautja habitat might be gearing up for something more. Something bigger.”

“They’ve never launched anything bigger than this,” Snowdon said. She lowered her voice. He could hear conversation in the background, the scared survivors. “Come on, L-T. A day here after the civvies have fucked off, swimming and eating and relaxing.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Snowdon? Seeing me skinny-dipping.”

“You know it, L-T.”

“Tell the Commander to stay there. I’m coming down to speak to him. You and McVicar tie down the rest of the base, post lookout drones, make sure we’re safe and sound.”

“Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!”

“And if you’re there when I arrive, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“You and whose army? Sir.”

Mains grinned. He liked Snowdon. He liked all of his VoidLarks—they were a family, friends, and that was why they were so good at what they did. Few other people could remain so isolated from human contact for such long periods of time. All Excursionists were the same, but Mains naturally thought the 5th, his VoidLarks, were the best.

The impact of losing two of their family had yet to truly hit home.

* * *

“You’re not going to escort us?”

“Not unless there’s a good reason,” Mains said.

“Good reason? How about twenty-three bodies? Is that good enough reason?”

Mains glanced around the canteen at the stunned survivors. Men and women, there were tears and blank stares, shivering people and those who still could not believe. There were also several children, some of them huddled into their parents, a couple sitting side by side, bereft. Maybe they were the orphans. Mains felt bad for all of them.

A few indies had also survived, weaponless now, shorn of any semblance of control. They weren’t to blame for the massacre, but Mains still couldn’t bring himself to exchange words with them. If they’d been better trained and equipped, and more inclined to prepare for what might hit them this far adrift on the Outer Rim, perhaps they would have put up a more effective defense. Perhaps. But the past was done with.

“You think we should take this somewhere else, Commander Niveau?”

Niveau glared at him, but all his anger and bluster was hiding his own terror. He was in charge of this research base. He could never have anticipated the horror that had come to visit.

“But… it’s seventy days to the drophole—at least—and our orbit’s taking us further away all the time.”

“Good reason to start soon, then,” Mains said, keeping his tone even. “Please? Your office? Your people need to rest, eat, get strong for the journey. We can discuss everything else in private.”

“For Christ’s sake!” Niveau shouted. He was shaking, ghostly pale rather than flushed with anger. “You’re supposed to be here to—”

Mains turned his back on the commander and faced the survivors spread around the canteen, aware that most of them were hanging on his every word. He and his unit had arrived here to save them, after all, and now they were waiting to see what happened next.

Niveau fell silent, and Mains heard the creak of a plastic chair as he slumped down.

“Six hours,” he said. “That’s how long you’ve got. In that time you need to put this facility into hibernation. Gather any data and information you need to take back with you. Pack your personal gear. Flight crew, pre-flight checks on your
Apollo
transport commence in thirty minutes.” He nodded at the indies. “You gather the dead. Seal them all in coffin suits, put them in the
Apollo
’s hold, show them the respect you’d expect for one of your own. My people will isolate and secure the Yautja corpses. They’ll be going back with you.”