Monsters in the Deep

“Watch it, Mathis!” Ochoa suddenly snapped through the comms. The crackly hiss of the phrase was cut short by a reveille of pops. Gunfire. Quick, scattered, uncoordinated.

Words were butchered on the comms. Claws clattered against metal. The commotion was rushing towards him.

Dain did a quick 360. The chaos hadn’t reached the passageway. Tight. Confined. It was just a corner to post up at. The hostiles were behind him. On top of the squad. Failure. Change of plan. Quick.

The whirlwind exploded into the corridor. Dain was in motion. Backpedaling. Snarling maws screamed forward. A flock of fangs rushed him. Dain squeezed into the cubby. Raised his gun.

Fire sprayed from the muzzle. The screeches warbled. They never stopped. A mass of writhing limbs smacked his own. The pack of fiends never slowed.

He was pressed into the nook. One was on him. Tearing. Flapping. Snapping. He fought back. Shoved. Kicked. Tried to raise the gun. To point it at the thing’s stomach. It was too fierce. It kept pressing in.

He raised his arm. Shielded his face. Even with a helmet, he didn’t feel safe. He shifted focus away from the gun. He crushed the thing’s foot with his boot. It recoiled.

Now for the gun.

In one swift motion, Dain turned his weapon back at the creature. As soon as his hand returned to stabilize it, he let rip a buzzsaw of rounds.

The thing went tumbling. Splattered back onto the floor. The others were already past. He had made it. The small nook he had chosen had served its purpose.

“Falk! After them! Hurry!” A voice was screaming in his ear.

Dain obeyed. He didn’t know his own status. Was he hurt? No time to check. His boots pounded on the harsh metal. The pipes whizzed by. The passages twisted as he bolted through them. Over hatch lips. Around rumbling vents. Down the length of the submarine.

He hurtled faster. No plan in the pursuit. Ochoa was barking orders. Screaming mad. Footsteps thundered behind. The squad stumbling after him. Too far behind.

He tore around a corner. There they were. Problem. Danger. Act fast.

The mass of the targets was nearly gone. Diving through a hatch. Ochoa and the others were too far behind. But the orders were screaming through his eardrums into his brain. Shoot. Kill. Stop them.

Dain levelled the weapon. A spurt of clattering rounds. The last of the fleeing critters spasmed. Fell. One arm reaching for the others.

The sputtering gun cut itself short. Silenced. Empty. The clambering mess of bodies were over the lip. An arm grabbed the hatch. Dain had already grabbed his next mag, but it was too late.

Three figures peeled around the bend. Ochoa and two others popped off a few rounds. Hopeless shots. The hatch sealed. A shuddering clunk.

“No, no, no!” someone blurted.

The soldiers pounded forward. A warbling hiss filled the passage. The figures threw themselves at the hatch. One jabbed his finger at a keypad in the wall. The others pried at the door.

The hiss got louder. Steadier. The shouts were drowned even in their helmets.

Then the sub shuddered. A gurgling whoosh. The moment froze. Hung. It was over.

But the icy sea didn’t rush in. They were not swept away in a sudden burst of pressure. The bulkheads didn’t crumple around them. Slowly, the shuddering of the passage stopped, and the faint echoes of the sound faded away.

The three armored and helmeted figures slowly checked each other. Then Dain Falk, identically clad, stepped towards them. He pointed at the indicator light above the hatch.

The escape pod was safely away.

The jitters of battle started to creep into their bodies. Dain realized he needed to check himself, too. The parka he was wrapped in had several rips in it from where the claws had penetrated. But the armor underneath seemed whole. He patted himself down, but felt no warm dampness which would indicate blood.

As he did, the voices continued to press in from his comms.

“We’re too late,” Perez grumbled.

“I’m not reporting this,” Mathis muttered.

Dain looked up, satisfied he was in one piece after all. The target he had eliminated lay sprawled between himself and the other three.

“I will,” he offered without emotion.

Ochoa turned slowly towards him. The large man walked towards him slowly, carefully stepping over the body still reaching towards its departed kinfolk. Ochoa brought himself to his full height, on a level with Falk. His black helmeted face appeared as if it were shadowed by the parka hood.

“What would you have to say?” the squad leader asked quietly. Threateningly. Despite the icy waters outside that made the jackets necessary, and Ochoa’s best attempts, Dain did not shudder.

Falk reevaluated. He had overlooked something. The action had been hectic. Poorly coordinated. But that did not reflect on Ochoa. The twisted corridors were hell to patrol.

It was their team. There were too many cracks in it. They weren’t so much a unit as a random assortment of soldiers tossed together and expected to cooperate. It bred suspicion and distrust. It occurred to him that there was a false assumption in play. Ochoa had lost sight of the real objective.

“Six targets down,” Falk responded truthfully.

Ochoa’s body language revealed nothing of his reaction. After a long moment, he shifted and looked down at the inhuman figure lying prone and motionless at his boots. Then the hatchway.

“They’re out,” he corrected Falk. Then his faceless gaze turned towards Perez. “That pod won’t be going through the gate.”

Perez shifted uncomfortably. There was a question implied by the squad leader’s words.

“I don’t know what that’ll do,” Perez confessed. “I think it’ll get clipped. That’s gotta be the easiest out for the gates.”

“Will it disrupt his plan?” Ochoa pressed.

Perez stiffened. “I don’t know,” he repeated slowly and firmly.

“Oblixis won’t stop at me if it does,” Ochoa growled.

Falk noticed Mathis bracing himself. This was unacceptable. Ochoa was not mending the cracks. He was exacerbating them. Too much pressure. A prepared enemy would shatter them. An unprepared one could still break them.

“What’s done is done. Do you want to make the report?” Perez challenged.

Ochoa reared up and faced him, too. Then pulled up short. Even though he dwarfed Perez. He straightened, slipping into a posture more befitting the military. The command presence became visible. Regained.

“There are more out there. We report when we’re finished,” he declared.

Dain doubted the wisdom of this. But he fell in. No one soldier could survive this alone. He did not trust his companions. But he needed to. They were all each other’s lifelines.

As they returned to delve deeper into the submarine, he pushed away his doubts. He would pull his weight. He kept a clear head. He listened for any sound. Checked every corner. They had to root out everything from this sub. Or they’d find a claw in their backs.

It was not a good assignment. But there were no good assignments under Anarak Oblixis. No Anarakian wanted to be assigned to him. Dain still did not understand why he had been unlucky enough to be thrown away here. He had always put the team before himself. Apparently, not all Anaraks appreciated that. This was his punishment. If they didn’t succeed, it would be a death sentence.

Oblixis was a madman. When you were assigned to him, you likely would not return. He had some new scheme now. Dain didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t his job to understand it. But he also didn’t know what his odds were. If they cleared this sub, what then? Would this just be the first impossible task?

Irrelevant. There was a job to do. That’s all he could do.

Ochoa held up a fist. Everyone immediately froze. The thrumming of the submarine’s machinery muffled any skittering. Dain scanned the shadows. Nothing twitched. They were at a T intersection. One passageway shooting off from the main hall they had been following. In it, there were several shelf-like bunks. Ahead, there were hatches. Ochoa might have heard something from them.

Falk focused on the bunks. Some had curtains drawn. Dangerous. They needed to clear them. He glanced back towards Ochoa. He was creeping towards the hatches.

“Ochoa,” Falk whispered into the comm. The helmet would mute him to the outside world.

“Quiet,” Ochoa hissed back.

Falk considered. Pressed his luck.

“Our six.”

“Watch it,” Ochoa snapped. “And quiet.”

Falk clenched his jaw. He had a job to do. He turned towards Perez and signaled him for cover. Perez glanced at Ochoa, then back at Falk. Nodded.

The two crept towards the corner. Falk advanced towards one of the bunks, weapon ready. He reached towards the curtain.

With a quick yank, he pulled it away. Stepped back. Weapon raised.

Nothing inside. He moved towards the next one.

Something slammed behind him. Bullets pelted out from behind him. Clattered off the metal. Falk spun around. And something snagged him.

Thin arms. Impossible strength. At his neck. Perez was on the ground. One of the things was on top of him. Falk only saw motion. Deep red. Copper. Blinding speed. How had it gotten on top of him?

Falk was pulled back. He wrestled to get free. Then he saw. One of the creatures clinging to the ceiling. Stretching its limbs to support itself. Shocking. Clever.

It dropped on top of him. Falk was alone. There was gunfire and shouting again. But he couldn’t expect the others to get to him. Perez was closest. Perez was down. He was out.

He kicked and lunged. His airway was compressed. Thought was squeezed out of him.

He was pressing against a bunk. Pressing the mutant against it. The one behind him. His fingers found his knife. He flailed. Towards his back.

The pressure released. He gasped in air.

Claws on his helmet. He kicked, and a mass tumbled away. One was still behind him. He spun around and sank the blade into his attacker. Three times. Quick succession. He spun back.

He was slammed back to the ground. The creature was back. Needle teeth. A bloody smile. Glassy black eyes. A hint of red inside. Falk felt fear.

The knife was pinned under him. He shifted. Changed attack. Wrestled away the creature’s arm. A claw dug into his chest. Nicked him. Under the armor. It was digging.

Falk punched at its face. He missed. Several times. But hit enough. The mutant reared back. Pulled away. Recovered. Stood over him. Falk readied the knife. It was already charging.

The point of the blade flew forward. Was bashed aside. The mutant was on him. But Falk powered through. He was ready. He had leverage. He pulled the two of them upright.

The mutant found the weak spot. Dug into it again. Roared. Opened its jaw.

The pain was intense.

Falk ignored it. Pressed the mutant into a wall. Pushed through the wound. The mounting agony. Recovered his knife.

Falk put down the mutant in a series of brutal slashes.

But it wasn’t over. He turned back towards the hall. There was still scuffling. He marched forward. Unsteadily. Found the next creature. Dispatched it. And another.

Suddenly, it was over. Ochoa, Perez, and Falk were alive. Barely. Mathis was not moving.

“Falk,” Ochoa said between breaths, pulling himself upright. Perez was unable to do so. “Why don’t you make that report?”

Falk nodded. Accepted the gesture, ignored the humor. He opened his comm line—

His head was slammed into a bulkhead.

The violence was back. He was dazed. He couldn’t react in time.

He was defeated.

Something squelched. It occurred to Falk that he was conscious. Dazed, but becoming clearer. He was not under attack. Not anymore. Something didn’t add up.

Falk turned, and his blurry vision cleared. His questions were answered.

Anarak Oblixis choked the life out of the last straggling monster. His huge figure was also clad in black armor, but with clear distinctions. A copper vest. A reflective black helmet. Bullet shaped. An unmistakable impression. Controlled. Powerful. Precise.

Oblixis tossed aside the body. Looked over at the survivors, including Falk.

His voice, an unmistakable mix of icy cold and human amusement, reverberated out of and was modulated by his mask. “An escape pod was launched from this vessel,” he stated.

Falk steadied himself. But before he could report, Ochoa unexpectedly announced. “Five escaped in it. We were—”

“It should have been reported at once,” Oblixis said in quiet, controlled tones. “Then perhaps your team would not be here alone.”

Falk watched the Anarak. Carefully. It was a rebuke. But not so harsh. Sensible, in its way.

“Yes, sir,” Ochoa muttered.

“See to your wounded,” Oblixis ordered. “We have just passed through the gate. Let us see to our friends’ task.”

***

Much later, the bandaged and re-supplied Dain Falk stood by his Anarak at the submarine’s bridge. It seemed they were performing some sort of observational task for another Anarak. Falk still did not know the details. Except that there were enemies nearby. Time Peace. A whole ship of them. Dain did not relax while he had that knowledge.

Oblixis was only mildly interested in the task. He had delegated it to others. Instead, he simply stood. Still. Wrapped in his own thoughts. Falk eyed him uncertainly. Was he as mad as they said?

Clanging. Clattering. A raucous klaxon was blaring. A panic fluttered over the men. They knew what the sound was.

“Anarak Oblixis, we have to—”

“It is a trick,” he said impassively. Though their faces were covered, Falk could imagine the disbelief on each of the soldiers as they turned to their commander.

“This vessel has not been properly purged of its infestation,” Oblixis continued darkly.

“Or it’s sabotage,” someone dared to say. Fear forcing the words out. “We’re all exposed.”

Oblixis tilted his head towards that man.

“You will live.”

Everyone bristled, but Oblixis was not finished. “We will ventilate. I will not lose my crew. Not at this juncture. Not from petty sabotage. You have more to do.”

This seemed to calm the crew, and a few began to press buttons or spin dials. This was it. They were surfacing. And there were more creatures to hunt. Falk readied himself for whatever task Oblixis would give him.

“But first,” Oblixis interrupted their work. “Let us give our Time Peace counterparts something to occupy themselves with. Load the torpedoes.”

One more target to the list.