Survival Strategy Read online

  The car brought Jason to an unprepossessing depot. Riley was waiting for him, arms crossed on her chest.

  Jason hopped out and snapped a salute. “Commander, I’m at your disposal. How can I be of assistance?”

  If Riley was happy to see him, she showed none of her joy. “What do you know about water pistols?”

  He was so bemused he forgot to laugh, although he did find the question funny. “About what?”

  “High-pressure water pistols used by mobsters for assassinations.”

  Jason raised his hands. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but if you wanted to see me, you only had to ask. You don’t need to invent wacky excuses for that.”

  Riley pursed her lips. “We’re investigating a murder,” she said dryly. “We need your expertise. Do you know anything useful or not?”

  “A murder? On Base Alpha? With a water pistol?” He stared at her with wide eyes. “That sounds like a bad joke. People need a security clearance to enter the base, so how could a mobster get in?”

  “Just answer my questions, will you?”

  Jason raised his hands. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I know. High-pressure water pistols are a variety of needlers, or silent pistols. They were the weapons of choice for contractors. That’s what guns for hire were called. The main advantage of needlers is that they’re small and made of bioplastic. Undetectable. Contractors hid them in secret bionic compartments within their bodies.”

  Riley nodded. “Yes, makes sense. How were needlers produced?”

  “All by hand. Crafting a reliable needler required skill. Most contractors designed them themselves, as finding this kind of weapon on the black market wasn’t easy.”

  Riley was about to ask another question, but at that moment Kor marched out of the depot.

  “What’s that psycho doing here?” Jason asked her in low voice.

  “Keep calm,” she told him. “He’s the lead investigator. President’s orders.”

  “I’m so-o-o looking forward to the elections,” Jason drawled.

  “Commander Blaze, what do you know about water pistols?” Kor asked without preamble.

  Adrian and Talia joined them, and Jason summarized what he’d told Riley.

  Kor frowned, his jaw clenched tight. “Hell, that doesn’t give us any leads. A hitman or mobster couldn’t have obtained a security clearance to enter Base Alpha. Everyone must go through a thorough background check before receiving clearance. Blaze, do you know if anyone outside the criminal underworld uses needlers?”

  Jason shook his head. “That’s a negative. Only professionals had the skills to craft and use such specialized weapons.”

  “Sorry we disturbed you for nothing,” Riley said to Jason, although her tone wasn’t apologetic.

  “Wait, it wasn’t for nothing,” he objected. “I can help you. I still have contacts in the underworld. The killer must have bought the weapon on the black market, right?”

  “Are you telling us there’s a black market?” Adrian asked.

  Kor turned to him. “How naive can you be, doctor? Of course there’s a fraggin’ black market. Not all refugees who made it to Neo are model Alliance citizens. The black market is on the Dionysus.”

  “And I even know who runs it,” Jason said with a humorless smile. “I mean, I know him personally.”

  “Your old pal Rico Varez,” Riley guessed.

  Jason nodded. “Spot on. Ol’ Rico. He could survive anything, even the apocalypse. He could bribe Death itself.”

  “We have no choice,” Kor growled, visibly uneasy about the direction his investigation was taking. “We don’t have any leads. Who would bump off a simple mechanic, and why? The guy had no debts and no enemies. And how did the killer manage to get in and out of the depot undetected? Even the repair bots registered nothing unusual. It’s as if the killer was a ghost.”

  “I’ll let you work on that, while I have a chat with that ol’ snake Varez,” Jason said.

  03

  Alien wildlife

  Dr. Talia Galen decided to conduct the post-mortem examination herself. The morgue was in the basement of the hospital, a five-story building with thick gray walls of self-repairing concrete. Talia had the dubious honor of cutting open dozens of dead colonists previously, victims of Neo’s harsh environment, but never a murder victim.

  There’s a first time for everything.

  Two security officers had transported the corpse from the crime scene to the morgue, and her assistant had prepared it for the autopsy. Talia wore a coverall with hood and face shield designed for handling hazardous biological materials. Dissection instruments were set on a tray next to the table.

  She performed the autopsy by the book, starting with the examination of the victim’s clothes. As this examination didn’t yield any new information, she cut the coverall with an auto-sharpening knife and inspected the body with a medical scanner.

  This inspection didn’t reveal anything useful either. The victim had been in perfect health, and the cause of death was a puncture wound through the heart. Mr. Jin died of cardiac arrest and internal hemorrhage.

  Talia ran all the biochemical tests she could think of and noticed a curious neurochemical imbalance in the victim’s brain, probably caused by intense fear. Mr. Jin must have seen his killer just before being shot.

  Her autopsy finished, Talia compiled a report for Colonel Kor and the investigation team. Tired, physically and mentally, she returned to her apartment located in a three-story building across from the hospital.

  She watched the news while eating dinner. The forthcoming presidential election was the hot topic of the day. Admiral Winsley had formally announced his candidacy, and the acting president of the Alliance, Charles DeCourt, gave a press conference.

  “I respect and admire Admiral Winsley,” DeCourt declared. “He’s a fine strategist and an exemplary officer. However, I doubt he has the necessary skills to lead the Alliance. Exceptional competence in military matters doesn’t necessarily translate into competence in civilian matters. What does the admiral know about economy, taxes, law, or education? What would he do in case of civil unrest? Wouldn’t he be tempted to declare martial law instead of trying to find a peaceful solution? The important question is: should society be controlled by the military in time of crisis?”

  “And what about you, DeCourt,” Talia muttered, glaring at the politician. “Last time the workers went on strike, you sent in the marines. And you ordered the assassination of a political opponent because you suspected him of preparing a coup against you.”

  “We have a chance to build a better, brighter society,” DeCourt continued his passionate speech. “A society based on fairness, justice, and equality. However, this is an incredibly challenging task, given our situation. We have founded a new colony on a harsh, inhospitable world. We have yet to establish the infrastructure needed to ensure sustainable development of our colony. We lack skilled workers in many critical areas, such as engineering, research, education, healthcare, justice, and law enforcement. We have no economy to speak of. Instead of a society of consumption, we live in a society of planned distribution. That’s not the lifestyle I want for my fellow citizens. I want to rebuild civil society and encourage free enterprise. Admiral Winsley will not be able to provide you with a good quality of life, simply because he lacks the necessary skills and experience.”

  DeCourt continued, but Talia’s mind drifted off. She was too tired to think about politics. She knew only one thing—DeCourt was dangerous, and she would rather eat biosynthetic steaks and drink synthe-coffee for the rest of her life than vote for him.

  And she really hated biosynthetic steaks and artificial coffee.

  *****

  A full rotation on its axis took Neo about fifty hours, and in Base Alpha nights could last for thirty-two hours during the winter solstice. When Talia woke up, the only light she saw through the window was that of a neon streetlamp. She took a steam shower, ate a breakfast consisting ma
inly of synthetic proteins, slipped into a coverall, and went to work.

  While she was walking to her office, she received a call on her cell comm.

  “Request urgent medical assistance,” a strained female voice said.

  “Dr. Galen speaking. I’ll send an RRT.” The acronym stood for rapid-response team.

  “Negative, doctor. Classified ASF mission. Please come in person.” The caller sent her coordinates and a military ID code.

  “On my way.”

  Talia called the ASF dispatcher to request a gunship and two marines with high security clearance, as protocol mandated in cases like this. She geared up in a protective suit and took an elevator to the roof.

  The gunship arrived within a minute, a GA-12 model nicknamed Guardian Angel. Designed to transport six personnel and equipped with four turbofans and two thrusters, it was fast and resilient, though not heavily armored.

  Talia jumped inside, and the gunship lifted off using turbofans. A moment later its thrusters fired, pinning her to the seat.

  When she could breathe normally again, she called the landing party. Lieutenant Okoro, the team leader, told her that their dropship had crashed, and the survivors were taking refuge in a cave. Their technical expert—tex—was injured and needed medical attention.

  Talia pulled a portable holo-projector and displayed the regional map. The dropship had crashed near a lava lake some fifty klicks south from the base.

  “What kind of classified mission could you possibly conduct at that location?” she asked, squinting at the map. “I see no points of interest there.”

  “We’re following Captain Hunt’s orders,” Okoro replied.

  Hunt, that old eccentric, what’s he up to?

  “What are your orders, specifically?” Talia pressed her. “I have level-five security clearance; I have the right to know.”

  “We’re investigating suspicious activity.”

  “Suspicious? Don’t spoon-feed me. What do you mean?”

  The team leader hesitated for a second, then replied, “Someone was sending an unauthorized interstellar transmission from the surface.”

  Talia wondered if that was related to the murder, but decided not to share her thoughts for now. “Understood. I’m on my way with two marines.”

  The gunship rocketed toward a feeble orange glow on the horizon coming from the lava lake. Interestingly, there were few volcanoes on Neo, as the planet didn’t have tectonic plates to speak of. Sometimes, underground rivers of magma reached the surface and overflowed into lakes, where lava slowly cooled. Wildlife thrived around those lakes, as they provided energy for Nean ecosystems.

  The Guardian Angel reached the crash site and hovered above it. The remnant of the dropship lay on its side in the middle of a solidified lava flow. Talia spotted the entrance to the cave about fifty meters to the north.

  As the gunship landed, Talia put on her goggles and rebreather. One of the marines jumped out first and scanned the area, rapid-firing blaster rifle at the ready.

  “No threats detected,” he reported.

  He didn’t say “all clear,” Talia thought with unease. Because he knows our sensors cannot detect Nean predators hiding under ground. He’s merely stating he can’t detect any.

  Talia grabbed the field medic backpack. Jumping out the gunship, she sprinted to the cave, accompanied by a marine. Her goggles automatically went into light amplification mode as she entered. It was dark and narrow, about fifteen meters in length, three in width, and two in height. It ended with a pit that presumably connected it to the rest of the cave system.

  The wounded tex was on a stretcher near the rear cave wall. Okoro was standing next to him, blaster in hand. The cold lights of her helmet gave her dark skin a bluish tint.

  Talia pulled her medical scanner and examined the tex. “I’ll give him a shot to stabilize his vitals. Other survivors?”

  “Two,” Okoro replied. “They descended into the pit to explore the cave system.”

  Talia glanced at her. “You really think it was wise to send your people on a speleological expedition? Let me guess—Captain Hunt’s orders. I recognize his style. The mission comes first, no matter the cost, is that it?”

  She realized she wasn’t being fair to her former CO. Deep down, she still blamed Hunt for her sister’s death. He did care about the safety of his subordinates, but he also had high expectations of them. Sometimes, his expectations proved to be too high.

  Okoro didn’t reply, but Talia took her silence for a yes.

  “Look, I admire the dedication of your team, but we must get your wounded to the base ASAP,” Talia insisted. “I can’t operate on him in the field. Recall your people.”

  “But Captain Hunt—”

  “Is the most stubborn individual I ever met,” Talia interrupted her. “I’m the Chief Medical Officer of the Alliance, and I outrank him. I give you the order to evac.”

  The lieutenant pursed her lips. “It’s not that simple, doctor. There was an explosion, and the cave my marines were exploring partly collapsed. One of them is injured. They’re trying to find another way out. Give them another five minutes.”

  “If they can’t make it to the surface quickly enough, we’ll evac the tex and come back for the others.”

  When Talia finished treating the tex, she examined the surrounding area from the cave entrance. Beyond the solidified lava flow, a forest of organisms called volcanic fungi looked like a coral reef on solid ground. Flocks of creatures the size of hummingbirds flitted from one “trunk” to another.

  The forest of volcanic fungi went around the lava lake in an uninterrupted circle. Talia observed a herd of triskeles emerging from it. At first glance, the triskeles looked like giant starfish, but with three limbs instead of five radiating from a central disk. Unlike starfish, they didn’t crawl on the ground. They were roughly the size of an adult human and stood on two limbs, using the third to gather food.

  The triskeles weren’t bipeds though. When they needed to move, their limbs curved and formed a wheel, and they rolled. Nean creatures didn’t have a skeleton, internal or external, and they could change their body shape to some extent. That ability, together with tough muscles, made them well-adapted to a high-gravity world.

  “They’re so…bizarre,” Okoro said, joining Talia in her contemplation.

  The triskeles snatched small branches, using one of their limbs as a tentacle, and brought their food into a round mouth in the middle of their body.

  “For them, we must look bizarre,” Talia pointed out. “I understand why Adrian…I mean Dr. Darus is so interested in them.”

  Their hunger quenched, the triskeles engaged in a complex social activity. They stood on one limb, balancing with the two other limbs, like a funambulist on a tightrope.

  “It looks like a ballet,” Talia said. “Eerily graceful.”

  “Yeah, that’s a hell of a show,” Okoro agreed. “Their movements are synchronized. Why are they doing this?”

  Talia shrugged. “Maybe this dance helps digestion somehow? Or maybe it’s like aerobics or yoga for them? Or a social ritual.”

  “A leadership contest,” Okoro suggested. “They all imitate the movements of the heard leader, the one standing on the rock over there. But there’s another who also climbed on a rock and is trying to get attention.”

  Talia gave her a little smile. “That’s a keen observation, lieutenant. But don’t you think we anthropomorphize them too much?”

  Okoro nodded. “You’re right, we’re all thinking about the elections, and maybe this affects the way we see the world around us.”

  Suddenly the ground quaked, as if they were standing on an awakening volcano.

  A geyser of rocks erupted about a hundred meters from them. The triskeles screeched in terror and rolled down the solidified lava stream. Three tentacles thrust out of the ground, each about fifteen meters long, and caught one of the triskeles.

  “It’s a lava hydra!” Talia screamed.

  T
he predator’s body emerged from the ground. It looked like a colossal, headless snake. It opened its mouth located at the front of its body, and its tentacles pushed its prey into its esophagus.

  The triskele gave out one last shriek before disappearing into the entrails of the beast.

  The gunship was taking off when the ground quaked again. A second hydra thrust out of the lava stream and caught the vehicle with its tentacles, crushing its fuselage.

  “Fire!” Okoro shouted. Her sidearm boomed several times, the light from her bolts illuminating the night.

  The marine who accompanied Talia unleashed a stream of ionized plasma from his rapid-firing rifle. He aimed at the hydra’s body, not its tentacles, to avoid hitting the gunship.

  The hydra gave out a thunderous roar and hurled the wrecked gunship toward the cave.

  Talia leaped away from the entrance and took cover behind a rock. A torrent of fire followed her as the gunship exploded. Okoro screamed and thrashed her arms, her body armor set ablaze.

  Talia drew a mini-extinguisher from her backpack and sprayed Okoro from head to toe. Once the fire died out, she dragged the lieutenant a few meters deeper into the cave.

  Okoro was shaking and moaning. A piece of shrapnel had split her visor. Talia removed her helmet and strapped a rebreather mask on her face. Blood trickled from a wound on Okoro’s forehead. Talia applied a medical gel to stop the bleed. Then she pressed a transdermal syringe with a painkiller against Okoro’s neck.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” she told the lieutenant. “I’ll get you spare goggles.”

  The injured hydra roared again. The ground trembled, and small stones rained down from the cave’s celling. Talia glanced around and realized how dire their situation was. They were trapped, and the ceiling could collapse at any moment. The marines who’d accompanied her were dead.