Purgatory, 8: Outsiders
12 Jan 2024Meowers
Warning: graphic descriptions.
"There are places in our world that simply don't want to have you. Everything is against you, everything wants you gone. And you must have a reason to stay there, otherwise it's an unnecessary sacrifice."
T + 22h 29min. Pfff... It's been a bit intensive. Time to crack some MREs and those merc rations we took with ourselves. There's no such thing as too much food.
Connected some dots together. We're certainly against something Azimuth-related, folks cross-checked the list of organisations and the news archives on their datapads. A majority of captives had to do something with, or more correctly, against Azimuth, some of them were literally ejected pilots and surrendered ground troops collected after fights. Most were affiliated with companies that published something against Azimuth on the networks. Yeah, it's easier to catch an office clerk rather than someone who actually does fighting. Hells, how long they've been here...
Though there was one moment that didn't actually add up. Captives told me that oftenly they were called 'traitors', like, Azimuth sees everyone interfering as 'traitors of humankind'... Love the irony. It's Azimuth who had made this war more intensive than ever before, and they are actually known for their... Not exactly humane research methods. So, apparently, those mercs also shared Azimuth's views, thus not being such an 'independent faction', perhaps, which is... Interesting indeed. Might be a coincidence, but I'd be amused if it isn't.
Shit. I forgot to ask that guy about 'David Buckley', though everything screamed, louder than he did during the questioning, that he wasn't that person. Like, someone who supplies this wretched place with hundreds of lab dummies should be coordinating something massive, not running back and forth picking handfuls of victims. If we have experiments going on... Then there's a level above it. An entity that orchestrates the entire thing. Provides it with finances, resources, material... And lab dummies. Have to think more...
T + 23h 02min. Ships spotted. Two, going supersonic right above our heads, low-altitude. Shit that's rough for your ears. Couldn't see the type but some folks identified them as Vultures.
Whitley attempted to pick up their frequencies, no result, comms are silent. Perhaps they're using the same type of direct-signal equipment.
T + 23h 11min. Damn that was some explosion, almost groundshaking. A few kilometres in the direction of... Shit, those Vultures are going back.
So... I guess that was the T-7. Just friggin awesome. Okay, going formal. Hostile ships confirmed, civilian transport presumed destroyed. Now we can't call for our one, it would end up shot even before the first of us could crawl up the ropes. Not to mention they'll pick up our location and surround us while it's on its way. Perfect, now we're stuck here. Okay, okay, think, think harder...
They have ships. Here, not somewhere else. That also means they have the infrastructure necessary for maintaining them, and some kind of a landing spot, hidden. You can't land a spaceship on treetops. If those B-class facilities are experimentation labs, then, probably... We should go further and obtain more information. And we are here, essentially, for the information.
T + 23h 20min. Made an announcement. Our primary objective from now on is getting a full schematics of that network. For future full-scale assault and following rescue operations. And, I'd like that to happen, burning this place to ashes. Once the map is downloaded, we could advance to the landing spot and hold it under our control long enough for our dropship to get us the heck out of here. Shit, this is going to be... A bit more challenging than we expected. To say politely.
Now, we should rest. Treat the wounded and let Therrien and Roberts recover from the infection better. Maybe some of us could sleep a little. Night should fall in about five hours and then we will move out to the B-02.
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Lifting the helmet glass is nearly impossible. Those godsdamned insects are rushing inside to peck you with their little nasty bloodsucking snouts. Too small to cause any damage but hells they're irritating the shit out of everyone. You remove the suit air filter to get some unrestricted fresh air at least that way and they flood the damn filter slot. It's more or less okay during the day, but the darker it gets... This crappy planet is perfect for making people suffer. Here's your nice oxygen-rich atmosphere, but you can't breathe it at night, go stick to the stale shit in your suit. Here's a lot of grass but it gives you a deadly infection through a tiny cut. Here's your water but everything is covered in the damn mud and rat shit. Screw this place.
* * *
What the heck, did I see... A movement? Ready your weapons.
The heck, are these... Local fauna! We're being attacked! Flashlights to max! Shit little bastards take that you shit...
Fuck they're swarming us, they're everywhere. Machetes!
What the... Get that fucker off her! Don't let them taste the blood!
How do you like that you little piece of shit
T + 28h 54min. Shit. Platoon attacked by the local aggressive fauna. Pack-hunting predators or scavengers, presumably. Size of an average dog, the behaviour is similar, looking more like lizards, slicky scales, split tongues, strong frontal limbs with claws, long fangs. Hope they aren't venomous, medics are running the tests now. Colour... Mostly brownish to green, camouflage. Tactics... Like, a hundred of them stormed our camp at once, surrounding everyone, crawling up the legs and jumping onto the chests. They can't get through the main armour plates and they bite and claw chaotically, yet once they pierce the suit in between the plates and spill the blood, that's the end of you, they will literally cover you from head to toes. Cutting the pack down to a half of its size was enough to turn them back. They didn't touch the dead in bags, it seems like the movement or the temperature attracts them more. Or both. Or maybe the voice. Dammit, I'm no biologist.
More casualties, dammit. Lazos got his neck pierced by a fang, that damn thing cracked and a piece of it stuck in his throat, he bled out before we could even react. Shit that looks grim. He tried to pull the beast off of himself and it tore the skin and suit material even further. It's like... All his blood is on the ground now and he drowned in it, both hands still pressed against his neck. Tried to stop the bleeding, by the looks of it. Ullmann, hells, now we're one medic short. No idea what happened but folks found him face down on the ground five metres away, and a groove in the mud like they dragged him there. His... His damn forearms are missing, joints gnawed to pieces, torn flesh and suit shreds where his elbows were. Friggin suit left without a single untouched place. Even the helmet glass is cracked, bloody bastards tried to get to his face. Tejero's arm is barely attached to the body, shoulder is fractured, shredded flesh all around it, they got their damn claws under the shoulderpad and almost tore it away along with her arm. Lost a heckload of blood, pale, shallow breathing, but stable now... I hope so. Witulska pumped so much painkillers and stimulants into her that now she's laying on her back and staring blankly, her eyes just follow my hand and nothing more. I guess... That rifle isn't for her anymore. Sarantis, sat on the ground leaning on a tree, in a puddle of blood, and screamed until the same extreme medication was given to him. With a fucking split head of that beast still clinging onto his right knee from behind, his leg pierced bone-deep. And a few lesser wounds. Damn they're ugly, imagine a dog, a fish, and a lizard, in the ugliest combination. The dead beast was on the ground next to him, sliced in half, its organs discarded in an arc, a piece of flexible suit material stuck on the claw. All that squealing and shrieking... Still buzzing in my ears. Medics had to remove some of his suit plates to extract all the fang pieces and mud and shit... With flashlights and those triple-damned insects swarming around. Kotarski, gunshot wound in the stomach, possibly a stray friendly fire... Or he tried to shoot that bastard himself. Placed on the ground now too, resting, stabilised, but I doubt he'd be able to walk for long stretches on his own. Matejić... Unscathed, except for the earlier wound, but shocked as heck, her back pressed against a tree. Holding onto her rifle, finger squeezing the trigger. Vacant stare, empty magazine. Splats of human and beast blood on her armour. A line of dead dog-fish-animals, eviscerated by the gunfire, in front of her.
How many of them I killed personally? Didn't count. It was a kill or be killed kind of situation. Five, maybe. Or six. Definitely evaporated three with the rifle, maybe wounded more, and then landed some good machete hits, it's too dark to count. Just noticed the guts of one still wrapped around my boot, damn, must've been quite a view.
T + 29...Fffuck, so much for thinking that we know what to do next. We counted almost sixty of these suckers, shot or chopped, their insides strewn all over the place. Dead or agonising. Some were still trying to move. Even having a half of body missing, turned into mush or charred, dragging their shredded intestines along with them, covered in mud and blood, mindlessly moving their jaws or stretching out the claws once someone gets close. Shooting... Too much of an honour. And their heads crack funny, with those greyish splatters and surprised squished faces, eyes popping out and fangs piercing their own mouths, when you stomp their ugly skulls.
Some marines were doing the same. But, in a more emotional fashion. Not going to judge them, these things are heinous. Collected the carcasses and threw them away finally, another attack of scavenger beasts in the middle of the night would be... A sub-optimal experience.
T + 30h 08min. Medics completed the poison tests. We were lucky, if the word is... Even applicable to this friggin jungle dumpster fire. Dog-fish-lizards don't do those dirty tricks, only maybe the same local grass infection we're now immune to and a general stinking shithole of a rotten mess in their mouths, treatable with antiseptics and antibiotics.
So, the grand total so far... Four dead. Eight wounded, two of them severely. Ssshit... And we should press forward to get a chance to leave this blasted place, or we're stuck here forever. Damn almost a third of my platoon is either wounded or helping wounded to walk. Smith now has Lazos's rocket launcher and I took Ullmann's medkit, at least I'm okay with the first aid.
Made a note about this spot on my datapad. A-15, direction from it and how long we walked. Engineers carry little spades in their toolsets. I hope one day someone takes these four back home.
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Next part: #9: A Trail in the Wilds
Next part: #9: A Trail in the Wilds