No Leaving Olvigrad

Olvigrad was supposed to make them all rich, not be their last flight out to die in some unexplored back-world.

Norvio and the other mercenaries woke to the sound of the perimeter fence’s alarm system.

Emerging from his porta-hut, weapon drawn, Norvio saw the translucent bars surrounding the camp turn to a red mist, sending high-voltage electric shocks through the creatures in their attempt to breach.

The hunters—a third of his size, appearing as dark, walking bulbs, hosting a plethora of eyes and tiny jaws.

The hunters had stalked them since the morning of the second day keeping their distance amongst the dense cover of tree-like olvisaps. But they’d refrained from striking, even if one of the expedition’s party left to relieve themself. Their employer, professor Henrick, had named the hunters, just as he had the trees. It was one of the many benefits of traversing across an unexplored planet.

Norvio’s eyes widened at the sheer number of creatures. Hundreds were swarming against the fence now, hissing the song of a thousand vipers. They scurried atop the pile of dead before making contact with the fence themselves.

The thermal machinegun thrummed as Norvio turned the safety off, and the amber bar that showed four-dozen rounds gleamed amidst the flashes and sparks from the fence and gunfire.

Ethan screamed something in Norvio’s direction, but he was too far—still near the camp’s porta-huts, and shirtless, exposing the Federation-standard exoskeleton attached to his skin. Waving Norvio over, Ethan spat and produced a long, curved clip from his tactical belt and loaded it into his Scout-Master V.

Norvio ran over to the man as Ethan opened fire in the opposite direction, blasting anything that moved on the other side of the fence.

Back-to-back now, they burst destruction into the creatures, splattering chunks of flesh, and thick, grayish exoplasm. Norvio kept his finger on the trigger, the laser-induced plasma exploding out from the end of the barrel until his charge ran out.

“Find Henrick! Secure the Holo-Drive!” Ethan exclaimed, the mercenary’s entire body shaking as his weapon unloaded. Out of ammo, Ethan loaded another clip in seconds. “Go!”

Find Henrick. Fat fucking doctor shouldn’t be so hard to spot.

Norvio obeyed. All six mercenaries had taken the job with the understanding no one was in charge. But Norvio didn’t mind. There was a job to do, and his friend was simply divvying out the responsibilities to complete the mission at hand. They were a team, and one of Norvio’s favorites to work with. Veterans of countless conflicts, from the Federation Coup to the Alandrian War, all had served.

Accompany the greedy scientists on their field trip and make a quick fortune. Ethan had been the one to convince him to come, and up until tonight, the venture had gone smoothly.

“Organo silicon-compounds,” Ethan had said. “Professor Henrick and his team from Jericho will prove silicon-based life exists in abundance on Olvigrad. Three weeks in cryo, then a few days on alien soil, and three weeks back…you’ll be a rich man, or at least richer than you were before.”

Responsible for scouting, Norvio sent his drones, or bees as he called them, programming them to cover nearly forty kilometers, more than double the distance they’d end up traveling on foot. The bees had returned to him an hour later with a detailed layout and route best for the scientists to record their observations and gather their samples, showing every obstacle dangerous enough to cause injury in their path.

They had not mentioned hostile lifeforms.

Staring at the creatures that were committing mass-suicide against the fence, Norvio could see the dozens of glowing, green eyes on their flattened faces, full of hunger, or maybe hate. Clearly, they were territorial, starving perhaps. The creature’s motives did not matter. What Norvio did know was they were here to exterminate the foreigners who’d come to their world, unannounced, and uninvited.

The thought of coming here stung as he realized his stupidity.

Norvio had led them all to death, and it was completely his fault. He’d taken on the role as scout and had failed, miserably.

 He’d taken the job so hastily, he never thought to ask about the dangers that might exist here until an entire day on-planet. But Ethan…the bastard had pulled him from a Soymian melt-den to take this job. He hadn’t been clean an entire week before being put into cryo on some scientist’s refurbished Federation survey cruiser.

Anyhow, he needed the credits. How else would he have afforded to stay in the melt-den? If he survived tonight, Norvio figured he would have enough credits to stay layers deep in a resin-drenched dreamworld of his mind’s own creation for at least a couple of standard years.

Drugged to paradise was not the future he’d envisioned after leaving the Federation Guard, but it was better than dying here.

The thought of dream resin made his skin itch with the want, the need, but as he jerked his head into the next porta-hut, he was pulled back into the present.

 Henrick lay motionless, passed out drunk with an empty bottle of vodka still attached to the feeding tube leading into his helm’s visor.

He knew the professor and his two research lackeys had been celebrating the night before, having completed their work, but Norvio had no inclination about the extent of celebrating that followed.

Norvio kicked the man in the gut.

When he stirred a little, Norvio was hopeful. Instead, he saw bile drool from the corner of Henrick’s mouth.

“Wake up!” Norvio screamed and kicked him again.

But all the man did was groan. He may even be on the verge of alcohol poisoning, Norvio surmised. His feet were swollen to gargantuan proportions. There’d be no waking him, Norvio decided.

This man would die here.

Setting his weapon’s ammo settings to charge, Norvio began to rummage through the porta-hut.

He heard Silas scream then.

Have they breached?

Norvio moved quicker.

Overturning the cot, he grabbed the bio-packs, dumping out their contents. Nothing but sealed bags and capped sample tubes.

“Fuck!” he yelled, his eyes darting from the mess in the porta-hut to outside.

Another scream. A woman.

Josepha maybe?

It was difficult to tell.

Turning his frantic gaze back to the inside of the porta-hut, he saw it then, sitting next to another empty bottle of vodka on the table. Circular, chrome, and palm-sized, the Holo-Drive hummed to life as Norvio switched it on with the swipe of his thumb. The holo-projection beamed upward, and he scrolled through the data to make sure this was indeed the device he was looking for. He’d seen multiple in use.

Data of the local flora, fauna, and funga filled the air in front of him, and as he scrolled further, so did the planet’s atmospheric composition, pressure, and the hundreds of little notes Henrick and his team had made.

Satisfied, Norio stowed the device into the bottom pocket of his combat pants. Then he took a last look at the drunken, synthetic organic chemist and turned to leave. There was a tinge of guilt, but only a tinge. The man had made his own choices.

The data stored onto the Holo-Drive wasn’t just worth more than his life…it was worth more than all of their lives. Someone had to be the one to flee with the data, it might as well be him. And why not? Their patron would surely die, and their camp was being overrun. But as the screams of his team members began to become fewer, he realized that the prospect of living might not be in the cards if he didn’t act fast.

Shouldering his weapon once again, and fully charged, Norvio had a plan; rendezvous with Ethan and abandon the others in camp to cover their escape back to the survey cruiser. He owed Ethan that much—the man had looked after him like a brother for years; checking in on him, attempting to get him clean, giving him mercenary contracts from time to time.

Then, he saw in horror as the hunters climbed the olvisaps, their branches hanging over the fence…into the camp. Leaving their piled dead, the hunters used each of their six stubby legs to dart up the trees with great speed. The Kaneesian mercenary, Yuki, blasted the first hunter as it leapt from a branch. Then another, and another, until there were too many to take aim at.

Norvio adjusted the dial on the fence’s control panel and an exit formed behind the porta-huts, their only escape.

“Ethan!” he screamed.

His friend looked back at him with accusing eyes that shamed his very soul. It was as if the man thought Norvio had already made-up his mind to abandon him.

One of the hunters landed on Ethan then, taking a small chunk from the top of a shoulder. Hanging from the hunter’s mouth, bits of flesh and exoskeleton fell away onto the ground as it reared back to bite down again. But the mercenary jerked his body wildly, flinging the creature to the ground.

Norvio fired and the hunter exploded.

Ethan began to make his way toward Norvio, backpedaling as he fired.

Norvio fired his weapon desperately, but from the ammo bar, it would need to charge once again.

Ethan cried out, “No!” as he tripped over the crawling, drunken form of professor Henrick. Ethan shoved the man to the side, but already, the hunters were atop their prey.

Norvio let loose his final few rounds into the screeching heap of man and hunter, turned, and ran in the direction of the ship. He hoped one of his rounds had hit Ethan, a mercy kill for a friend, but Ethan’s agonizing screams soon pierced his ears.

Tiny jaws ripping away flesh one bite at a time…

The thought sent Norvio into even more of a panic, and he took a moment to power on his exoskeleton’s short energy-burst accelerator. The tiny hydraulics beneath his clothes sent him running faster than he thought, and he prayed to any god listening he would not stumble or hit an olvisap head on.

But he was focused, and he dodged the rubbery-like plants with ease.

The ship wasn’t far now. He’d covered almost three kilometers in six minutes. He would make it…he would survive. And being the only surviving member of the team, all the credits would be his alone. His team abandoned, and Ethan, possibly his only friend left in the universe left for dead, Norvio managed to grin at the wealth he’d just acquired.

Dream resin.

For the rest of his days, he could remain lost in blissful paradise.

As the exoskeleton powered down, the ship came into view. Still, he jogged. The sooner he was off this world, the sooner he’d be back in the melt-den. He was so happy he wanted to cry.

Opening the landing hatch with a link connected through his helm, Norvio stood patiently as the ramp came down.

As he took his first step on the ramp, he stopped when he heard something.

A hiss.

Norvio’s mouth fell open as he looked at what waited for him inside the ship.

Then the rest of the hunters hissed as one, and what had been tears of joy morphed into tears of dread as the creatures charged him. 

He fired his weapon into the hungry mob, but it did little to stop them from coming. In a final desperate attempt, Norvio threw his rifle at the closest hunter. Missing his mark, he fell to his knees.

Surrounded, out of ammo, pride, and dignity, Norvio screamed in fear as he was taken to the ground. He wished he hadn’t left his friend then, and yet he still wished for life. Most of all, he wished for a quick death.

Feeling the razor teeth of the hunters beginning to pierce through skin, Norvio waited patiently for death to come, even taking off his helm to offer his neck.

Waiting…

Waiting….

Waiting…

Waiting…

Author’s Biography

A native of San Antonio, Texas, C. W. “Clint” Stevenson resides there with his wife, son, and their retinue of furry companions. In his spare time, he reads, spends time with his family, and collects too many books. His work can be found in Alien Dimensions, Illustrated Worlds, and Tall Tale TV.