Purgatory, 4: Curiosity
05 Jan 2024Meowers
Warning: mild graphic descriptions.
"Curiosity killed the cat, they say. But what they don't say is how many rats that cat killed on its way there."
T + 5h 35min. It doesn't seem like they're aware of our presence. And the vehicle is going slowly. Good. Comm silence is on our side.
T + 5h 37min. Single truck. Reached the clearing, mercs got out. Ready to open fire. Waiting for all of them to come out into the open. Visible confusion, none of their fellows are around and they don't know where they are.
No worries... You're meeting them soon.
Alright. Opening fire.
T + 5h 44min. Idiots didn't stand a single chance. We let them exit the truck and get closer to the civilians, our sharpshooter killed the driver through the windshield and others ended up being in the open with nowhere to hide. Swept them out in a few minutes. Eleven mercs, one of them had the same backpack, told to be careful with it. Remained intact. Looks like we've gotten ourselves a transport too.
T + 5h 51min. Thermals show there's nobody except us and the cultists here. Sent second rifles and Bradshaw from the engineering to inspect the bunker, others are searching for any clues and other interesting stuff on the mercs. And I'm going to have another word with those wannabe Far God'eers.
T + 6h 08min. Hells, they are hopeless morons, mostly. Wanted to pick up the rifles and go with us, playing action movie heroes. Saving their friends or just saving the day or whatever. Told them they could shoot themselves right now with the same effect, the mercs weren't your bog standard shopping centre security or street goons in fancy suits. We've had a tactical advantage and much greater numbers both times, and those militant office dwellers and factory workers don't even have any protection better than their pants. Wet, from the rain or not. Pointed them at the trail back to their ship, they have literally a lake of water next to it and also I saw quite a lot of synth-food cartridges onboard. Explained the systems activation procedure, so that they could use the synth machine, water filters, heaters, toilets, lights, all that stuff. Stressed out, damn three times, that turning the comms or sensors on will be an instant death sentence. That they should sit there and be utterly silent, we will notify the SAR services once we're done here.
Shit, I can't trust them. We should pick up all weapons and move like a hundred metres to the side, into the jungle, off the trail.
Also, folks returned from the bunker thing. Just a few old damp bunk beds, the same comm device but stationary, a box of ammo, a box of cheap synth chow, yet there was also a chart of... Bearings. Marked 'A-15', 'A-21', 'A-09', 'A-11' whatever that means, with respective degrees to each of those... Places. No distances though, can't pinpoint the locations, but that's certainly used for communications and navigation.
T + 6h 17min. Shit I forgot to tell them not to aim for the driver's head. I opened the truck door and a dead body tumbled down on the ground, spilling blood, with red torn rags of tissues around the cracked jawbone and lower lip still attached to the neck, and the upper part of the spinal column sticking out of the mess. The cockpit interior was showered in splatters of blood, cerebrospinal fluid and burnt pieces of brain matter, white jagged chunks of shattered cranium, windshield and helmet glass shards. The biggest piece of this guy's skull, with one ear hanging on a thin stripe of skin, remained inside the helmet which had a large exit hole on its back surface.
And somebody should drive that thing. Maybe even me.
The truck also has a kind of navigation software on its onboard computer, with a map. Same A-something marks but with a network of roads connecting them together. This one could get us straight to A-15. Copied it onto my datapad and sent it to other marines.
T + 6h 29min. Got deeper into the jungle to have a bit of rest, crack open some MREs and think about stuff. The clearing looks more like a merc meeting point.
Like, we could wrap that up right away. We already know that the cultists have nothing to do with this place, they're victims themselves and fell into a planned ambush. Whatever is happening here isn't a Far God cult thing, and our instructions were about the cultists only. However... What the actual bloody heck? A hidden facility, deep in the jungle, with a decent level of secrecy, mercs without any IDs guarding it and shoving people into trucks like cattle, and that strange map... The map is definitely incomplete, there are large gaps in the numbers, and the road network looks like it could lead to somewhere else too. Too much of a fuss for a bunch of spots and offroad vehicles that look like even the knee-deep mud isn't a problem. And why in the hells would they need hundreds of newbie cultists, coldly shooting those who resist? Why did that 'leader' of those cultists drop them straight into an ambush, did he know something or was he duped the same way?
And I can't contact our ship, this will break the comm silence which we may still need.
T + 6h 44min. Godsdammit. Garraway isn't feeling well, sweating, mild fever. Medics inspected his wound, something that looks like an infection. Inflammation, swelling, pockets of pus around the wound area, way more than it should be with that otherwise superficial damage. And no idea on how it got through the antiseptics. Therrien and Roberts share the same symptoms in general, their wounds are smaller so they didn't notice it, but their body temps are elevated too. Administered wide-spectrum antibiotics, yet we don't have anything to examine the blood samples here. Distributed their stuff over the rest of the squad, leaving them with rifles only to make walking easier.
T + 7h 01min. Okay, the rest is over. Have to admit, we should proceed further. That mysterious David Buckley guy may be the source of trouble and whatever they're doing to those poor bastards puts mostly innocent civilians at risk too. I mean, joining what was advertised as a pilgrimage for initiates, refusing to be forcibly loaded into a truck, and being shot dead by a bunch of mercs without IDs? Damn hells, as if the Thargoids weren't taking enough lives. I could've turned a blind eye on cultists happily blasting each other, but that isn't the case. So we should go and tell him, in the language of firepower, that he'd better play human cargo with those willing to partake. Also, we were sent to retrieve any information, and he's definitely a source of something interesting. Maybe he's a cultist too but from a more radical faction, and they need fresh meat. Who knows.
T + 7h 29min. Damn this bucket has a biosignature control lock. Asks for a pupil scan and its driver doesn't have eyes anymore. Heads of six other mercs couldn't do any good. At least my machete had proven to be a fine thing. We will be forced to stomp the mud if our techs won't be able to crack it in a reasonable time. Also... Why the heck do they think these shouldn't be driven by other troops? Ah, dammit.
T + 7h 43min. Finally, it's alive and humming. Had a few volunteering drivers... Until they inspected the cockpit decoration. Hey, at least I threw that meat soup bowl of a helmet away. Oof. I guess I should take the controls then. Foster, poor bastard, is going to ride on the passenger seat with his fancy visors, scanners and stuff. Smashed the cracked blood-splattered windshield away, we aren't going to see anything through it.
Damn this thing is slow. Okay, I got it, mud is everywhere, this 'road' of theirs really sucks, but it's awfully slow. At least the engine is almost silent... Maybe that's the reason. Wimpy engine, low signatures, silence, secrecy, all that. Hmmm. Anyway, let's see what this A-15 mark actually is...
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Next part: #5: Promised Land
Next part: #5: Promised Land