Monday Fiction: Charybdis

There’s this big joke they got about this line ‘a work. It goes kinda like this; Sign up, get shoved off to some world somewhere and butcher whatever you find. Lotta danger, high fatality rates, and you can’t own property like how normal folks can–but hey, the healthcare’s free!

I hate that joke, it’s not funny at all. It’s just like everything else the flagwavers say, all snobby ’cause they don’t have to get down in the dirt themselves and do the dirty stuff like the Expansionists. That’s us, by the way, the hard workers ‘a the human race. When they pick you outta whatever jail you’re in – Charon maybe, or one ‘a them asteroids they convert into prisons when they need new space quick – they give you this sheet ‘a paper like it’s the old days and a choice with it. See, you can either stay rotting away in some dump, or you can go and fight on other dumps and get a little money.  They don’t tell you about the rest ‘a it all at that point, they must want you thinking this is some kinda miracle so you sign

Guess I fell for it, if so.
Puttin’ on a pea isn’t so bad the first time. Actually they fit right snug, the company’s got a lotta money so it can afford to custom-rig ’em a little. PEA’s a massive suit wi’ a power plant on the back, by the way, Protective Exoskeletal Armour or summat like that. Solid, they are. Don’t matter what sorta shape you’re in when they get one rigged for you, they made ’em with customisation and what have you in mind so’s they fit as many folks as they can find to fill ’em. Naw, the bit that’s really hard is training to use the damn thing. Well, the job itself is too, but honestly at least there you’re allowed to shoot whatever’s out to scalp you.

‘Course, even with all the training and guns and stuff in the world, you’re still likely to get shot out to some backwater tip of a planet like Lambda-12. They don’t have a proper name for it yet, guess they’re waiting ’til they can move the flagwavers in and claim it all proper. Thing is, our lot’s so good at our work that we get sent in like cleaners to take care ‘a the nasty business. That’s the kinda jobs they save for us, the infamous Cissies. It’s like Sisyphus, y’know, that bampot who rolls a rock up a hill every day in Greek Hell only it always rolls back down? Basically that’s what we do. When some idiot drops the boulder, we come in to roll it back up.
That’s what we’re doing now, picking up where some other bawbag left off.

The signal’s given and we’re away. Thrusters kick me in the back, and I’m off into the engagement zone with a scream. Hurts, that first jump; everyone deals with it a different way but I like hollering ’bout it as I go. I think about the brief we got, and check to see if the rest of the gang’s with me. Hua and Jai are on my left. Can’t see the rest, the helmet doesn’t turn that far. Tac-radar’s chirpin’ away, it says they’re there.

That’s good enough for me. Wish the bloody peashooter on my arm would spool up faster, mind, I’m buggered to hell if it’s not ready by the time we touch planetside. Nervelink’s working well, at least. The armour seems to know what I’m trying to get done before I do half the time. They don’t let you move the armour, ‘a course, the average human’s too slow and weak for that to work out so they snap your nerves to it. The armour basically moves you, I s’pose; it’s hell to get used to at first.

Lambda-12 is a pretty fair planet. I’d almost forgotten what a tree looked like. Before I know it, I’m surrounded by the things and there’s a weird feeling, like I’m too small or something. Then our sarge, the Boss Man, starts yelling over the comms.

“Awright Cissies, sound off, who made it? Jai, you here this time?”
“Here, Sarge. I’m here.”
Jai got lost on the way to the last drop area ’cause of strong winds blowin’ him a mile or so off course. We’ve still not stopped taking the piss. Boss Man carries on with his calls.
“Birdie, where you at?
“I’m here boss, just pissing about wi’ me gun. Think it’s working now, though.”
“Glad to hear it. Take Mao and get up front, show ’em how a lady handles recon.”
Point duty for me, then. I love it. The pea carries me pretty quick, the alloy fibre-bundles in its limbs working better’n any natural muscle could. Hell of a view from the ridge Boss Man was talkin’ about. I tell you, that’s one ‘a the perks they don’t mention ’bout this line ‘a work. I mean, it’s still crap, but now and again you get to see a little ‘a space that isn’t black and boring or trying t’ eat you, and that’s no’ too bad.

I take the right, and that’s when I spot Mao’s armour. He’s done something right funny to his shoulder pads, looks like he’s carved some picture or what have you into them. Didn’t know we had knives sharp enough for that. I’m about to ask what he used when we get the first sight of the enemy we’re here to kill. I say that like it’s some casual chat we have with it. What actually happens is that it bloody well jumps on us out of nowhere.

Mao yells as five different arms slam into the front of his armour and shoot him back over the ridge we came up, and before I can so much as swear it’s my turn. I don’t rightly see what it is, mind. It’s big, I can tell you that, big and covered in sharp stuff, and then it’s hit me with the force of a truck and I’m on my arse in the mud about four hundred metres away. Damage control says there’s cracks but nothin’ that’ll compromise my air supply.

Mao’s no’ doing as grand. It’s decided to try and eat him, I think. I push out the shock and do what I got trained to do, pulling the trigger on the peashooter before the big bastard can finish whatever the hell it’s doing to him over there. A peashooter’s a railgun by its proper name. The tungsten alloy shit it launches could go through a mountain, and I’m feeling like doin’ exactly that wi’ it at the minute. The thing what rushed us turns into about three different kinds ‘a steak and a lot ‘a red mist. That don’t do much for Mao, though. Poor bastard.

“Shit. Well, forget about the body bag.”
Boss Man sounds about as happy as you could expect, considering. He’s just lost one of his twelve tin soldiers, and it’s all I can do to hold back from spewing across the front of my helmet when I see what the poor bastard’s talkin’ about. It’s not just bits of the beastie that are all over the ridge.

I knew Mao from back on Kappa-2. That’s when we joined up t’ the squad. Good lad, he is – well, was. Real good, actually, made me wonder what in the hell he’d done what was so bad he’d got tossed into prison for it. Maybe it was some minor stuff. They can be proper harsh on money things, and I can’t for the life ‘a me imagine he did anythin’ nastier. Guess I’ll never know, now. You say to yourself all the time that it’s rude t’ ask, and when your pals cop it on some dirty planet what’s not even got a name you say to yourself, oh, well, never mind wonderin’ then ’cause now there’s no point. Daft, that’s what it is.

We’re off about twenty earth minutes after that, on our no’ so merry way to where the idiots who got us called out here are s’posed to be holed up. No more of the big beggars on the way, thankfully. I’m a wee bit concerned about the cracks in my pea, to be honest, can’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. O’course, then I think back to Mao and realise it probably don’t matter one way or another if we get jumped like that again.

“All stop. Got somethin’ over the intercom, sounds like chatter.”
Christ. Guess the local talent’s no’ listening into human comms lines then if they’re being that incautious about it. I’m already glancing about the place as the rest of the Cissies form up and wait on Boss Man’s radio. Don’t fancy another one ‘a them things crawling up outta nowhere and biting a chunk out of my arse. For one thing it’s a great arse,  and sometimes them rejuvenation treatments don’t quite take. Visor condensation’s bloody terrible, I can’t see half of what’s going on out there. Y’know, it gets proper sweaty in the peas sometimes, especially when you’re getting a bit nervous. It’d be fair to say I was pure nerves at that stage, what with recent events.

Boss Man nearly makes me shit myself when he pops up next to my elbow.
“Jesus, Birdie, c’mon, let’s make tracks. Got a fix on the main squadron, we need to get there.”
‘There,’ as luck would have it, is about six miles due east. The peas make it a journey of about ten minutes.
Turns out the sergeant of 77th Squadron’s the bawbag who got mentioned earlier, by the way.She’s all right, I guess. Can’t tell much through the pea’s visor but she seems like she knows what she’s about. I mean, aside from that little matter ‘a not doing things right the first time, she’s pretty solid. Oh, the numbers. “Cissies” isn’t our proper designation, though I guess that’s a tad obvious. Officially we’re the 55th Squadron of UNIMI Corporation’s expansion division, or 55th Expansionists if you’re pressed for time.  “Cissies” suits me better, to be honest.

I’m still a little rattled over Mao, but it’s passing. I’ll probably feel like a sack of shite later but you get used to pushing all that aside so long’s your on the clock. All that’s left is a little numbness, least ’til we get leave. Good, it’s better like that. Grief’ll get you killed, and they don’t much care about how many of us they go through t’ get their mitts on a world or three.

Turns out there’s some manner ‘a nest or hive or whatever it is up ahead, that’s what’s causing the hold-up. They’re callin’ it Charybdis or something like that, some daft mythical thing to do with a whirlpool. Bet that’s cause they couldn’t shift it and got bogged down, that’s always why they pick daft names like that. Anyway, the 77th’s boss started chatting away to ours. Didn’t take ’em long to figure out what their big plan was gonna be, and how they were gonna clear this valley ‘a theirs out for the flags floating all safe and snug in their ships above us all. Ah, hell, he’s lookin’ at me now.
Guess I’m on point again.

#

It’s about three proper hours, Earth hours, before everything’s done. Feel ragged, like someone’s got at my nerves with a tenderiser. S’pose I can see why they had so much trouble wi’ the place now.

77th don’t have up-to-date kit like we do. Guess we get priority for change-ups, being problem-solvers and all, whereas the rest stick with what their parent company can get ’em ’til they run into something they can’t clear out wi’ it. Their peashooters only pissed the crawly things off when we attacked. I’ve seen some horrible stuff in my time, now, so don’t go thinking I’m some softie who’s never been to war or anything. Even saw a couple ‘a lads get sucked out of a crack in their peas due to pressure once. You never get used to the gory stuff though, like when a lass is screaming down the comms because some bastard of an alien’s got its claws in her and the armour did naff all to stop it. There was a lot ‘a that goin’ on.

About half the 77th died in the first eight minutes, torn up by them millipede-lookin’ things. This time they burst outta the foliage like they was waiting for a signal or something. Our guns did a bit more than annoy ’em, though. I think they weren’t expecting resistance like what they got, these beasties, ’cause as soon as we opened up on them and the first few copped it, they started racing about like they were panicking. Maybe they were, I dunno. Didn’t really stop to think about their feelings, y’know. Right now we’re still picking up the bits of our lot what didn’t make it. Hua’s all right, Boss Man’s fine, most of us got through but not Jennsen or Martijn, and the less said about poor Olatunde the better. Feeling that numbness again, harder to push away this time. It’s gonna be a bad night for me, I think. I can already feel it creeping up on us like a ghost, my hands are shaking–my actual hands, not the big metal paws attached to the pea that I’m moving about with my mind. Nervelink with the suit’s starting to strain, and that’s trouble. Not just my suit what’s got cracks in it. Ah, Jesus.

In a straight fight we got the advantage over the bastards. They’ve no’ got the armour to deal with our guns, and we can keep ’em at arm’s length fer as long as we need – well, usually. Now and again they get to us and that’s when trouble starts. Just ask Mao or Martijn about that, they’d tell you whatever you’re lookin’ to know if they weren’t all in chunks. Funny thing is, what with us all being the scum ‘a the universe or whatever the flags think, you’d reckon we’d not give a toss what happens t’each other. I mean, there’s some right nasty beggars get signed up to this work, don’t get me wrong. Never did find out about some ‘a the gang but I know Hua got in for racketeering on Mars. Jaki’s worse. The powers that be usually tell the unit where their new meat’s coming from and he’s pulled off of Pluto proper, had to get readjusted to higher gravity for a few months and everything. Only the worst get pulled off of Pluto.

Anyway, look, you’d think we’d all be savages in fancy armour. Naw. Thing is, you never ask what a person did, not ‘less they’re lookin’ to tell you in the first place, so you never judge ’em on that. You fight and you drink and a lot ‘a the time you die right next to ’em, and you get to sorta… need ’em around, I guess. Truth of it is, folks like us, we got no real future anyhow what with being criminals in the first place. May as well stick with a gang as get what that feels like. No wonder when the seven years’re up, you get maybe two or three bampots what’ll leave and the rest’ll stick about. Where else we got to go, eh?

Christ, yeah, that’s the shakes all right. I’m gonna need a moment. Deep breath. Can’t go to pieces yet, not ’til the patrol’s back. Then I can go let it out in a corner someplace where the rest won’t see and won’t come lookin’.

They’re bringing past a body. God, I think it’s Olatunde, or the bigger bits of her. Christ. She’d only just got in wi’ the gang and all, picked her up two drops ago. Lovely lass, got jailed for fraud from what I heard. Now she’s bits of steak and spare bits for the mortician’s table, and someone somewhere’ll get a letter saying she did her bit for humanity and whatever debts to society she had are cleared. Mouth feels dry. Limbs on the outside twitch and I know Boss Man’s givin’ me a quick once-over but I’ll be buggered if I can hold myself together any longer. I need to get outta here, get away to a bunk someplace. God. You think to yourself you’ve seen it all and then you watch as a friend gets carried by in a box or two, little left but chopped up meat and bits what used to be full ‘a life. Christ. I need out.

#

Whey, hell, God, that’s got a burn to it.
Er, it’s been… eh, about six days or so? Six and a bit?

Leave, lads and lasses, does a lot for every bit ‘a your wellbeing but your liver and your sense ‘a time. The ships what our flagboys’ve been stocking for us are nothing short ‘a spectacular, real bloody palaces. There’s lakes ‘a whiskey and other such medicines ’round here, which is just what yours truly needs. That  and a table for a hand ‘a cards. Don’t matter what the game is, I can beat you hollow at ’em all and still have enough time fer a quick go on the simulators.

We got leave last, us Cissies, on account ‘a our weapons and stuff bein’ so good that they wanted us guardin’ the place til they got their first terraform domes up. After that mess I talked about before, things got a wee bit better, but I won’t lie; the moment I heard we were gettin’ leave I didn’t know whether to yell and sing or go an’ sit down so I didn’t pass out from relief. I think I might’a done both, actually. Aw, well. I’m here now.
See, now, there are perks t’ the job what they don’t tell you about either. Look, it’s an ugly, shitty job where a lot’a your pals get cut into ribbons or disintegrated and all the bosses do is shrug and say “well, that’s too bad but we got three more worlds needin’ cleared out by next month, so get yourselves together and get to work.” It wears on you after a point, and that’s puttin’ it mildly. Thing is, we’re a good investment in a way so the company also throws in a bonus or two. The leave ships, as bonuses go, are pretty bloody great. Big, floatin’ cities in orbit where a body can go when she needs a rest and wants t’ stop starin’ at nothin’ thinking over and over about old pals all day.

And you wouldn’t believe what’s legal on here, neither. Wow.
Er, not that I get into any ‘a that stuff, mind you. No, I got other interests.

Hua’s joined me for a game or two. Blackjack, her favourite ’cause it’s a special night and she gets t’ pick. It’s a bit weird being outta the peas for long, really, and we keep doing odd clumsy stuff like we’re bairns just learning to walk or what have you. Still, it’s good for a laugh and with a bit ‘a drink in you, you don’t really notice when you’re being clumsy on account ‘a nervous disorientation or because you’ve had about six drams ‘a fine liquor and now you’re battered. Hua’s got a great laugh. It’s like music or something. She’s laughin’ now ’cause I’ve dropped my bloody cards all o’er the place and near spilled my pint ‘a Kick all across the floor. Kick’s a nasty one, by the by. I don’t remember what goes into it but I’ll tell you, if you aren’t a drinker you’d best leave it alone and get yourself something less lethal.

Anyway, yeah, this round’s gone to hell, she knows what cards I got and by the looks of it she had better ones anyhow. Eh. I’ll get her next round. We do this a lot, me and Hua. It’s our thing, I guess, we sneak off and find a nice room to shack up in. One of us carries the cards and food, the other’s got the booze. Sometimes we even bet, though all in all it’s best if I stay away from that these days, so it’s not often. Hua goes mad at me if I sneak spicy stuff into whatever she’s eating, so I do it now and again to rile ‘er up and win a round or two. Not tonight, though. Tonight I’ll play fair.

The rest of the Cissies are all over the place, doin’ whatever helps ’em relax after the shit we go through on a regular basis. I don’t ask much about what Jaki gets up to, but I know Boss Man’s got a thing for the boxing and sports like that. Loves him a little combat, he does, maybe a little too much. No wonder he’s a lifer. He must’a done his seven years about three times now, and he’s still not gone. Jai apparently sings in his spare time. Daft, if you ask me, you’re up here to get blind drunk and so full you can’t even walk to the bathroom, but I guess if it works for him I’ve got no call to complain. Besides, I heard he was a pretty decent singer, so whatever makes him happy, y’know?

Speaking ‘a which, it’s time for the next round. God, finally, a good hand. Nine and an ace, they don’t get too much better. Unless she’s gone and got hersel’ the best hand she’s had all night–no, the round’s mine. At long last! Yeah, look, when I said I could beat anyone at any game, that was true, all right, but… y’know, sometimes luck’s not on your side. Nothing you can do about that, is there? Naw, didn’t think so.

That’s what they got me for, by the way. Yeah, I was abit of a gambler in my younger days. Actually I was a bit of everything; some ‘a the stuff they never found out about, and I ain’t tellin’ you just in case. Anyway, yeah, I got into a lotta debt. Had a run ‘a bad luck, all right? It happens. Well, anyway, I was out a lot of money and the folks as run society don’t like that. Course, things went from bad t’ worse, and t’ be honest me not keepin’ calm about the whole thing probably didn’t help much. They dumped me in Phobos Max for that mess.

Hua’s face is a little flushed in the light. Guess she thinks she’s got a good hand, she’s so bad at hiding it when she reckons she’s winning. It’s bonny. Me? I’m, well, I’m no’ doing so grand. Sixteen. I seen enough games and played even more t’ know this is a crappy hand to have. Honestly, though, that’s not something I’m too bothered about. Back in the old days I’d ‘a probably started a scrap over this sorta thing, maybe got thrown in a local jail for a few days on drunk and disorderly charges. Speaking of which, my glass is empty. Hang on a mo.

All right. In days gone by I’d be thinking ’bout how to get her to trip up here. Old habits and all tha’, you know how it can be. I’ve been getting better, though, and these days I even let her win games now and again. Hey, I’m a lot ‘a things but cruel ain’t one ‘a them, you know? Anyway, she’s got me beat. I may as well twist, and I do. It’s a seven. Er… well, now she’s definitely got me beat. I take a big gulp of the acid I’ve been foolish enough t’be drinking and plop ’em down so she can see. She whoops and cheers, laughing, before she throws another slug ‘a that gin shit she likes so much down her. Ah, we have fun, we do.

It’s funny, y’know. Maybe it’s the constant threat of getting killed a million miles from home or the sorta familiarity you end up getting with people you spend all yourtime with or whatever it is. Hell, I know more about what they dropped her in for than I do the others. Hua’s not exactly the sorta lass you’d call respectable, even amongst our sordid lot. She’s not good like Mao was, or maybe dropped in for somethin’ stupid that ought not to have cost her everything like with Olatunde. Nah, not Hua. She’s always been likely to end up here, I think.
Maybe I was too. I guess there’s a reason we get on so well, thinkin’ about it.

Looks like we’re going in for one last round. May as well try to win this one, and conserve a little ‘a the pride I keep makin’ such a joke of. To be honest… look, I am a good card player. Good gambler generally, at that. I didn’t get into the clink ’cause I messed up–well, not solely anyhow. I got in ’cause in my final game I felt I was cheated and the bastard what did it was someone important, so it wasn’t hard for him to just dob me in on account ‘a all the other debts I had. The fact I near popped half the teeth outta his head  with a barstool for screwin’ me over before his security boys could do the same t’ me was satisfyin’ though.

But yeah, I am a good player, but for some reason I just don’t got the same edge I used to. I dunno. Either way, I’m not makin’ good decisions tonight, whereas Hua’s showin’  a little ‘a the ruthlessness what got her in here in the first place. Finally the cards are down. Nineteen mine, twenty-one hers. She couldn’a beat me more handily if I’d just ripped up my cards and swallowed ’em. Yeah, I really must be rusty. Well, I don’t mind her winnin’ just this once.

Speaking ‘a which, I’ll just finish my drink. Hang on a sec.
Hua’s pretty proud of herself, beatin’ the resident gambler like she did. She laughs and jokes, and I throw her the fingers in response. She just laughs more at that. Good lass. She finishes up her drink, kicks the card aside and all of a sudden she’s in my lap, arms around my neck. She smiles, a small and pretty different smile from the triumphant one she was flashin’ about five seconds ago. Feels a bit warmer in here all of a sudden, don’t it?
“Some gambler you are, Birdie. Any other games you want me to beat you at?”
She laughs, her lips meet mine, then they meet mine again. This time they don’t pull away. Y’know, losing’s got its advantages, really. Guess that’s it for the cards tonight, though.
And, for that matter, me tellin’ this part ‘a the story.

#

“Cissies, here’s the issue. Fifteen minutes ago, Groundbase in Charybdis valley came under sudden concentrated attack. Comms was garbled but it sounds like our leggy friends are back with a little extra muscle. Naturally, the forces already down there can’t handle it, so we’re up.”

Christ. This don’t sound good at all. The domes they put up to form groundbases are essentially built to be fortresses–I seen one take fire from a mercenary cruiser one time, and after the smoke cleared all that had happened was that it’d got singed a bit on the top. A cruiser like that could flatten a city. How in Christ did the bugs or whatever they are manage to get in?

There’s no time left to worry about it. We’re on the clock now, and every second we spend faffin’ around up here is another second our lads and lasses have no support.  My peashooter spools up as I pull myself into a ball in the pea’s control pod, lettin’ the nervelink bind with the back ‘a my neck and synch up. Stings, but I ignore it. No time. Chamber fills with protective gel, neck seals engage. Check status of foot and back thrusters and say a quick prayer. I don’t believe, mind,  but it helps.
And then we’re away into the pit again.

The dropship rattles about and generally does its best to scramble us. The pilot knows what she’s about, though, and just guffaws whenever Boss Man radios up to yell about the shaking. It’ll be time soon. Reason we got thrusters on our suits is because ‘a how we leave the ship–any slower than rocket speed and we’d get sucked into the jet trails of the thing. I try not to think about that too much.

When we fire outta the back and get to ground, piling through the dome’s roof gate to do it, we realise what it is we’ve gotten into. It looks a whole lot how Hell got described to me once.

Everyone’s dying, blood and gore everywhere. Bits of old pea models scattered and torn open. A lass with the 77th is screaming, trapped ’cause rubble’s fallen on her legs. Another soldier’s got no face, but he’s still alive somehow. Bile shoots up my throat, and I swear I’ve never had to fight harder to not spew it up. Christ. Cissies open fire on anything and everything that looks like it ain’t human, my gun rattles on the mechanical arm it’s sat on, and we try to move in and rally survivors.

Looks like half the planetsiders didn’t even have time to put on their suits.
There’s the things with the tonne of arms we know an’ love. They’re everywhere, cutting folks to pieces or trashing whatever stuff looks man-made to them. Don’t look like there’s much strategy to it, but seein’ as how there’s maybe only twenty suited up Expansionists out there, not includin’ us, they must think they’ve already won. They might have, at that.

Boss Man holds us together, though. He screams and curses at us down the comms, calling us cowards and other stuff and gettin’ us angry. Good. Need to be angry for this. Anger makes it easier. Then a thing with a gob the size of a ship door bursts out of the ground at our feet, and we find out how they got through the nigh-impenetrable dome. They can dig. Or these big ones can, anyhow.

Jai’s on my left and he’s blastin’ away merrily. I can hear him yelling something, but he’s not got his comms on proper so I dunno what he’s sayin’. The thing what killed Mao is just a worker, I reckon, like a normal ant in one ‘a those colonies you get on Earth. These big ‘uns are the real soldiers. They’re terrifying. Look about thirty foot tall, probably bigger, and every limb ends in a paw with bloody great claws on it. The one what’s burrowed up next to us takes a moment to squint as we shoot at it–is that what it’s doing? I dunno–before a shot goes through its eye and it realises we’re enemies.

God. We need bigger guns. Boss Man yells at us to blow it to hell but it’s already swept Jai up and pulled half of his body off, and it don’t seem to want to stop there. Jaki’s next. He dies silent, probably killed before he can yell out. Gets a few shots in before it cuts him in half, but didn’t stop it. Now it’s my turn. God, my legs are jelly. I do what comes naturally and shoot it right in its gapin’ face, it’s stupid big gob. Anything  and anywhere that might stop it from ripping me to shreds. If it feels the shots it don’t care a bit for them. Claws bite through to my shoulder, sharp pains, and then it’s pulling, Christ it’s pulling me out in bits, God this isn’t, don’t let it, it’ll rip me out of the tin and all I can see is that big slatherin’ mouth waitin’ for me-

The beast’s head explodes. I can’t see anything. My visor’s covered in whatever was in there.
For a minute I can’t control myself, and I don’t even realise I’m screamin’ til someone kicks my helmet and hauls me t’ my feet. Boss? No, Hua. She’s still alive. I’m still sobbing a little and my shoulder feels like someone set fire to it. Bastard. I nearly, I nearly died, and the realisation sinks in. God, the cold runs up my back and my legs near buckle under me. She shakes me roughly and when this time I hear what she’s sayin’ through the shock.

They’re orderin’ a general evac. We’ve bought the civvies and the folks who couldn’t fight the time they needed to get out. Charybdis is lost, time to get gone. I get myself together enough t’ do a quick count. Six. Six of us left–no, five now.

It’s been twenty minutes since we hit ground, and in that time everything’s been overrun. Nothin’ we can do now but get out again, let the fleet do its bit. I’ll be gone soon. Just gotta… just gotta hang on a little longer. Not too hard. Cissies always get the hardest jobs, we’re built tough. Focus on that, focus on every battle I ever come through.

The retreat’s turning into a rout. More and more ‘a the burrowers are comin’ up now, and these ones don’t wait t’ see if folks fire on ’em first before laying about themselves with those claws. We’re doin’ all right time, soon we’ll be at the dropship pad. Thrusters are only one way, gotta have a ship to go back. Last few are already fillin’ up. My suit’s not workin’ properly, that soldier thing must’a severed a bit ‘a the connection. Hua’s havin’ to drag me along while Boss Man and the rest cover the rear, mostly ’cause their stuff still works. Feels like I’m walkin’ through syrup. Not fast enough.

I’m pushed into the belly of the last ship waiting, an’ I’ve never been so happy to hear the clang ‘a metal under my feet. I almost start cryin’ again. Hua’s there beside me, her bonny face ash white and a little splash ‘a blood across her pea’s torso. I think that’s mine. I daren’t look to see the damage. Wait ’til I’m really safe for that. Cissies clamber on next to me and with each one  what gets in it’s like a weight’s gettin’ pulled from inside my chest. Then a burrower pushes itself in after us and all I can hear are screams. Mine and others. Gun’s jammed, the bloody thing just won’t fire, so I throw it at the fucker. Scramble to get away from those claws, that mouth. The others’re firin’ at it but the thing just won’t let go, God above, it’s pullin’ the ship down.

Boss Man’s there, loomin’ over me all of a sudden. One minute all I can see is monster, the next all that’s there is massive armoured legs. He says something over the comms. What? I’m too panicked and half-daft wi’ everything goin’ on t’ catch it, but I hear Hua and one of the other lads yell back, panic and denial. Then it hits me. I know what he’s gonna do.

But before I can reach out and grab him, he slams into the beast, pushes away with his legs, and it and him are gone. The ship rises, free at last. Engines howl but not loud enough to cover the grieving. I’m numb all over. Push myself away wi’ whatever control I got left of this useless thing, push up to a wall and start sobbing again, big massive sobs like I’m tryin’ to push something outta me or.. or God, I dunno. Can’t think.

Hua pulls me outta the ruined suit. She’s still covered in gel hersel’ from gettin’ outta hers, but I don’t care. I just need her, an’ she’s cryin’ enough to make it clear the feeling’s mutual. We wrap ourselves  together, cry, scrabble for whatever comfort we can give each other. All the while I can’t stop picturing Boss Man, Mao, Olatunde, everyone else lost on this ugly world for someone else’s pocket. My lass’ arms tighten around me, and she rests her cheek on mine, over the tears and the blood.

That’s all we get, all this life ‘a war’s brought us, and it’s enough to push the pain away, kinda.
A little closeness in a world where we’re expendable and lives don’t matter.
The last thing that’s truly ours.

END.