Project U.L.F. (19 page)

Alex looked to his right and could just make out Par through the vegetation, crouched absolutely still, staring only at the dark form which had appeared in front of them. To his left was Kit, who returned his glance and whispered, “Are you scared, rookie?”

He remained crouched there for a moment, angry at the comment. Then his blood began to boil. Scared?
Scared?
“I’ll give you scared,” he said, and in that instant his sanity snapped and he was up and running. Running toward the limb and the creature hidden from view that owned it.

“No!” Par screamed, and then he too was running, chasing after Alex in a bid to stop him. The others followed, joining the pursuit. Running after Alex. Running toward the thing that awaited them in the cane ahead.

The brittle shoots snapped with his passing and the limb ahead turned towards the noise. Then it seemed to hesitate, to jerk first this way and then that.

Alex was oblivious to the noise the others were making as they chased him through the cane. It was this that had caught the animal off-guard. Now it had to deal with eight different attacks, not just one. An ambush from a social pack of animals, perhaps. The limb began to rapidly move away from them. Instantly the sound of snapping cane doubled, as the creature crashed through the growth, moving its huge bulk in an attempt to escape. “You’re mine!” Alex screamed after it, and quickened his pace.

When he burst out of the cane and into the clearing the animal had left in its wake, Alex realized he had made a grave error of judgment. “Oh, Jesus,” he said quietly.

It was fifteen yards away and still backpedaling, but even from this distance Alex could see that it was huge. On sight of him it stopped, tapping one of its ten legs on the earth as if it was considering its options.

Alex was suddenly aware of the sound of the others behind him. It would be all right, he told himself, they were coming to help him. But the noise had stopped and no one had joined him in the clearing. A wave of fear washed over him. He suddenly felt very vulnerable.

Across the clearing the animal had slowly begun to advance on his position. It was easily as big as a police transporter back on earth and it looked as if it was equally well-armored, the limbs segmented, each segment covered by a thick plate of tissue. The appendage they had seen was its tail, curled high over the animal’s back.

It was quite squat, the body supported only a couple of feet above the ground by eight of the legs, which moved independently from each other. The forelegs were adapted, huge pincers at their ends held high and opened wide in defense. There was no head as such, but at the front of the long body Alex could see mandibles opening and closing, saliva frothing and bubbling between them. Above these, two rows of eyes regarded him with a cold, transfixing gaze. Two small eyes, set below four larger eyes, all unblinking black orbs.

He wanted to turn and run but he was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. From the corner of his eye he caught some movement. Byron was inching his way through the cane to his right, crouching, coming past him and moving steadily towards the animal’s position. Behind him was Wyatt. Alex turned his head and saw Kit and Par mirroring them to his left.

What were they doing? Surely they weren’t intending to encircle the animal in an attempt to catch it. This thing was huge! They would never be able to contain it and get it back to the ship.

The animal’s confidence was growing and its first tentative steps towards Alex had become a purposeful advance on his position.
Why aren’t the others coming to help me?
Either his mind was read or some divine intervention was responsible for what happened next, since Wyatt stepped into the clearing to his right.

The creature stopped in its tracks.

“What’s he doing?” Kate frantically whispered to Bobby, the pair of them crouched in the cane, watching the drama unfold in front of them.

“Evening the odds,” Bobby said with a faint smile on her face.

“Don’t move, Alex,” Wyatt said quietly into his microphone. “Visor. Thermal imaging camera,” he said.

As it had done before, the visor slipped over his eyes, and this time the forward-facing thermal imaging camera switched on, superimposing a breakdown of the animal’s heat sources over Wyatt’s view of the creature. It was an invaluable tool. It could detect heat-generating chemical reactions within animals which were often indicative of the readying of some biological armament. There was nothing on his visor. He slapped his helmet with his hand, slowly, so as not to alarm the beast in front of him, thinking that the camera was still inactive, but it was on and functioning perfectly. Somehow, the animal’s armor shell was preventing its body heat from being detected. Possibly some evolutionary development to facilitate its role as a predator.

“What do you suggest we do?” Alex asked, the fear apparent in his voice.

“I don’t know, son. Right now I suggest we stay absolutely still and see what its next move is.”

“I don’t think I could move if I tried,” Alex whispered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here.”

Wyatt looked back at the animal. The camera was now showing something on his visor. A pale blue smudge corresponding in position to the shovel-like plate at the tip of the tail. The animal was excreting a cool, clear substance onto this flattened segment.

“Look,” Alex said, pointing toward the creature. “We’ve really got it worried, It’s shitting itself.” He laughed.

“Alex! Your visor!” Wyatt shouted, but it was too late.

Whether it was the motion of his arm that attracted the animal’s attention, Wyatt could not tell, but the creature turned to Alex and with a lightning quick flick of its tail, launched the clear amorphous mass at him.

Alex was spinning. Something had hit him hard in the face and the force had knocked him off his feet. He landed heavily in the cane. He was dazed and the pain in his back was dulled by his lack of awareness. The fall had winded him and he gasped for a breath. But he could not breathe! A cold mass clung to his face, blocking his airways.

Panicked, he tried to pull it off, but his hands sunk into the sticky conglomeration. As he tried to pull them away, he found they too were stuck fast. He tried to shout for help but he couldn’t open his mouth. He could feel himself getting weaker, struggling less. Quickly, he slipped into unconsciousness.

As soon as Alex had been attacked, Kit had burst out of the cane to the animal’s rear right flank, his gun blazing.

“No!” Wyatt screamed and instantly Kit had stopped firing, although not by choice. His weapon had jammed and he was cursing it, trying to clear the firing chamber to renew his attack.

The five bullets Kit had fired had glanced off the animal’s armor plating, doing nothing more than leaving five white scratches on the shiny black exterior. The creature was not harmed, but it was irritated and it turned upon its attacker, executing a dance on eight of its legs to wheel around on Kit.

It snatched him up in one of its pincers and Kit dropped his weapon, trying to pry the great claw open with both of his hands, grimacing with the effort or the pain.

Par and Byron now joined the others in the clearing. Par, between Wyatt and Kit, instantly lit up his flame-thrower and shot a plume of fire towards the midriff of the creature. This too appeared to do nothing but irritate the animal, and it began to turn back towards Par.

Wyatt watched in horror as the animal slowly came about. Par, he realized, was not going to release the trigger. He was going to torch this animal or die himself, such was his determination. If he continued on this course of action then Kit would be brought directly into the firing line. Par would set Kit alight.

“No!” Wyatt screamed again and ran across the clearing, kicking the muzzle of Par’s weapon skyward, shooting the finger of flame upward. The gun flew from Par’s hand, over his shoulder, and landed in the cane behind him.

The creature was now advancing on the pair of them, waving Kit in the air before it. Wyatt turned and fired at its eyes, bursting two of the orbs with lucky shots. The animal squealed in pain and backed away from them.

Across the clearing Byron raised his weapon and fired at the animals behind. Wyatt heard the pop and saw Byron dive for cover and he knew what was coming next.

The grenade exploded and Wyatt briefly saw the animal’s rear end lift with the force before both he and Par were thrown backwards into the cane. As he struggled back to his feet, he caught a glimpse of the creature, injured and bloodied, charging away from them, dragging one of its rear limbs behind, the appendage damaged and useless.

To his relief, Wyatt could see that in fleeing it had released Kit. The big man was writhing around in pain in the middle of the clearing. Then he turned and saw Chris bent over Alex, shaking his friend in an attempt to get a response. Any response.

He ran to where they were and bent next to Chris, lifting Alex’s wrist and feeling for a pulse. He let the hand drop. “There’s nothing you can do for him,” he said, his head dropping, “I’m sorry.”

“Alex,” Chris sobbed, “Can you hear me…? Talk to me!”

“He’s dead, Chris,” Wyatt said quietly, laying a hand on the youngster’s arm.

“Alex, Alex,” Chris still shook his fallen friend.

Wyatt obviously wasn’t getting through to him. “Medic!” he shouted.

Chris looked at him as if he was a stranger.

“Medic,” he said again. “This man is dead and we have another person in need of emergency medical attention. There is nothing you can do here. Now go!”

“Yes, sir!” Chris’ eyes welled with tears. He jumped to his feet and ran to where Kit lay.

“Jesus,” Wyatt said quietly. “Why, Alex? Why couldn’t you just wait?” He stood and turned to find Byron looking at him from across the carpet of broken cane. Wyatt just shook his head.

After examining Kit, Chris found that he had three broken ribs and acute bruising to his upper torso. He had literally had the life squeezed out of him by the creature’s viselike grip. Chris tightly bandaged his upper body to minimize any movement and the discomfort associated with it. When he got his breath back, Kit was fit to walk.

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“Come on, kid,” Byron said, gently laying a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “You have to let him go.”

Chris said nothing, just nodded, knowing that what Byron said was true. He took a last look at Alex’s face and then zipped up the body bag, moving away to let Byron and Par pick it up and carry it into the
Santa Maria
.

“Look’s like your rookie’s gonna need more training,” Kit said to Wyatt.

“What?” Wyatt frowned.

“Your rookie. He needs to get better at this stuff. Can’t be dying on every expedition he goes on.” Kit began to laugh, and then his laugh became a cough and he stopped himself, holding his chest because of the pain.

Chris turned on him, tears still rolling down his face. “Alex was my friend. Don’t you understand that?”

“Yeah.
Was
.” Kit began to laugh again.

The youngster looked at him aghast, then ran into the ship.

Wyatt remained with Kit outside the
Santa Maria
’s entrance. The pair of them sat in silence for a while. “You’re unbelievable,” Wyatt said. “You don’t change, do you, Kit?”

“Well, it’s nice to know you can rely on some things.” the big man said, smiling.

Wyatt’s face became a mask of anger. “I should have let your sorry hide burn when I had the chance!” he snarled.

“But you didn’t, did you?” Kit said smugly. “No. You’re team leader, which means you’re supposed to look out for us. Look after us. And that’s what you did. You don’t change either, Wyatt. Not a bit!”