Presentiment

Valeer was just about done. She and her platoon had been searching for over three months now, and they had nothing to show for it. If there had been anything here, she was sure this malignant jungle flora would have swallowed it up by now.

“This is Scout Team 3. Grid F9 is clear.” The afternoon’s frustration filled the brief silence. “Again…”

Valeer really couldn’t blame them on that front. She felt the same way.

“Hold tight, Team 3.” She said, attempting to wet her throat with a sip from the scout armor’s water reserves. “When the others complete their searches, group up and head towards the MFOB. We’ll rendezvous at E1.”

The air was thick with pollen that stung her sinuses and crusted the inside of her beak. Any saliva her mouth offered up immediately turned into a bitter, chalky paste on contact. This was truly one of those deployments.

“It’s gonna start getting dark soon.”

“I know!” Valeer snapped, then regretted it.

“Sorry, LT, I was just saying—”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I think—” Her apology was interrupted as the rotting ground gave way to the bog. Her front legs slid into the viscous sludge, which claimed her up to her shoulders. Uiv and Neay moved to assist. With no regard for the state of their own feathers, they reached deep into the mire, working to peel her front half free of the slime, which squelched in protest with each centimeter. Valeer, while grateful for the help, couldn’t help but catch a hint of mirth beneath their altruistic veneer.

“As I was saying,” she began again, “ I think we could all use a break from… this." Only the members of her own unit could see her gesturing to her muck-covered forelimbs as she scraped at the caked-on portions around her talons.

She took measure of her platoon’s vitals. Aside from a brief spike in heart rate after her outburst, everything was down. It didn’t take a medic to see that her pack was strained. Hormonal and brain chemistry levels showed everyone was tired to some degree. From the readings, it looked like Javaas—a member of Team 2—had actually curled up to take a nap. “Especially you, Javaas.”

“Mmph.” He grunted in response, evoking a chorus of singing laughter—as much as could be managed through the choking pollen.

“When are we off this job?” That had been Mursa, a thorn that drove herself deeper as the hours passed. Part of Valeer wished Mursa weren’t so competent and well-liked by her squad. At least then she’d have an excuse to bench her.

“No word on that yet. We keep going until we find what we’re looking for.” Valeer said, and the laughter slid into low, syncopated groans and growls.

“Seriously? What does anyone want with this rock, anyway?” Came another voice over the radio, Larn of Team 3.

That, she wasn’t too sure of herself. The official reason was: the meteorite was composed of some naturally occurring super-alloy. It was distinctly needle-shaped and broke through the atmosphere at incredible speed. It was nowhere near fast enough to be some relativistic weapon, but far in excess of what was needed to make a mark had it hit the ground. Its shape was practically perfect for slicing through the atmosphere with minimal air resistance. The orbital defense platforms had fired a laser cannon in the several-gigawatt range to intercept it, and it ate the shot with no visible effect. As if it needed to be more remarkable, they had to identify it using rudimentary visual sensors because it was absorbing radar and lidar like crazy—nearly the whole EM spectrum, if she heard right—making its cross-section microscopic compared to its size.

Valeer regurgitated the official statement once again: “It’s likely to be composed of a natural alloy that’s great at absorbing and dispersing heat and EM radiation. If we can track it down, we can find out what it’s made of, and possibly synthesize it.”

“And there’s just no crater to be found,” Mursa muttered.

Aside from the shape, that was the other detail that caused Valeer to doubt the official story. Even with the shape, something that big—estimated at roughly 30 meters long and 5 meters in diameter—moving that fast, should have made some notable impact on the surface. It landed close to the equator, in this sweltering jungle, so it wasn’t impossible that the trees had hidden it to some extent, but there should also have been broken, burned, or otherwise damaged trees as well, had that been the case. They’d gotten the likely impact zone down to about two square kilometers initially, but they couldn’t find it within the first two weeks of searching. Since then, they’d slowly expanded the search site to include the surrounding four square kilometers, diligently combed every square meter, and yet—nothing.

“Are you even sure you want to be off this job yet?” Valeer added. She didn’t need to state the obvious; they were all thinking the same thing. This performance couldn’t be reflecting well on the Luparir Force Recon, and Valeer’s platoon specifically. They were supposed to be the best of the best at this sort of thing, but three months of searching a relatively tiny square, and nothing to show for it? It was only reinforcing their status as a Tier 5 species.

“Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.” Mursa shot back. “The Pelin want this thing so badly, they can come look for it themselves!” A shrill call of agreement crackled over the radio and immediately doubled up as the actual cries echoed through the forest.

Valeer was sympathetic, but that crossed a line. She wasn’t about to tolerate disrespect towards their patron species, especially if it was unwarranted.

Perhaps it’s time to drop a bit of privileged info.

It wasn’t technically classified, but it was also made clear she shouldn’t be broadcasting it heedlessly. She gave herself one last chance to reason through the consequences, and decided to commit. Up until now, regulations and respect for the chain of command had been winning out over the cratering morale, but hour by hour, that was ceasing to be the case. This just might be what they needed to refocus.

“The Pelin weren’t behind this request.”

That had the desired effect; the radio chatter was decimated. Eager anticipation for the bomb she was about to drop drove out any lingering guilt.

“The Faraw?” Someone from Team 2 asked.

“Nope, at the end of the day, they’re just grunts, same as us. We got this job straight from All-Crown.”

If the conversation had cooled before, it was now frozen outright.

“For real?” Mursa joined back in, stunned reverence entering her voice.

“Yes, for real. So, if you wanna go home now, I’ll let you be the one to tell the Terrans you got tired of doing your job and wanted to call it quits.”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” Mursa responded.

The conversation continued, but it became murmurs and half-deciphered statements under breath. Across the platoon, Valeer could see everyone’s vitals had just been given a second wind. Satisfied with that, she continued, “Finish up here, then meet at Grid E1.”

* * *

It had been another half-hour before all the squads had reported their assigned grid searches finished—nothing was found—and the local star had just dipped below the horizon, not that Valeer or her platoon could actually see it on account of the trees.

“Well, here we are again. Another day, another big, fat nothing.” Larn said. Mursa was his squad commander, and it looked like her pessimism had rubbed off on him. She’d have to talk to both of them about that. Not tonight. Stress hormones were running high. No one aspired to be chewed out in this state—not even a mild reprimand—and Valeer, herself, wasn’t in the mood to give one. Instead, she’d speak with them first thing in the morning, when they’d all had their rest and something to eat.

And a hot bath.

She took one last look at the pitiful state of her pack before turning to lead the way through the gloomy thicket back to their temporary home.

That’s when everything went wrong.

“Seeker One, this is Bivouac Actual. We’re getting anomalous return signatures on our ULF scans. Five unknowns; they seem to be moving towards the MFOB Frigate at a slow but consistent pace. It’s likely some local fauna; they might be stumbling into the clearing we’ve set up in. Advise your platoon to return ASAP.”

“Understood, Bivouac Actual, we’re en route. ETA is—“Valeer glanced at her HUD map, still fuzzed with voluminous pollen. “17 mikes.”

That was ominous. While it was more than likely local fauna, just as the Kanogril comms operator had said, something didn’t sit right with her. They’d been down here three months living aboard an atmospheric frigate and not once had anything wandered close enough to their mobile forward operating base for ULF radar to detect it. Now, five unknowns were moving as a group directly toward their base, without any of the meandering deviancies characteristic of cervine, canine, or even feline analogs that might be common in forests like these; it felt like an omen.

Of course, you couldn’t judge a planet by its cover. Species across the galaxy exhibited certain biological trends that manifested similarly in almost all life, but there were always exceptions. These five unknowns might be a curious group of pack primates with antennae for aural organs, attracted to the radio waves for all she knew. Still though…

“Alright, news just came in from base.” Valeer radioed to her platoon. “Something’s approaching the MFOB. It’s probably just a herd or pack of local fauna, but command wants us back in reserve in case it is something else.”

“Something else?” Mursa asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we go in ready for anything.” Valeer shot back. She made sure it was clear in the tone that she had reached her limit with Mursa’s running commentary. Mursa took the hint and clamped her beak shut with an audible clack.

“Come to think of it,” one of her troopers wondered aloud over the open comms. “We’ve never seen anything come close to the ship the entire time we’ve been here.”

Larn continued off that thought. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird that we haven’t seen any fauna larger than an insect or typical avian the entire deployment.”

That made Valeer hesitate, and by Larn’s expression, he also had just caught on to what he’d said. Several other troopers noticeably slowed their stride, their faces contorting into quizzical expressions.

“That’s… that’s actually really odd. How have we not noticed that?”

It was true. Thinking about it with purpose, Valeer couldn’t recall ever coming across any native fauna. That was unheard of on these sorts of assignments—especially in an equatorial forest. There should be all sorts of animals here.

“No, no. That can’t be right. I remember seeing these small mustelids when we first got here, and there were those giant bovine things out by the waterfall, remember?” Javvas said, reassuring himself.

“Right! I remember the birds, too. We’ve seen things.” Someone else added.

Valeer took a moment to take in the darkening forest. It was silent. No birds, no insects making their evening chirps. She knew for a fact that there had been insects when they first landed. They almost drove her crazy the first week.

She probed her platoon’s memory for answers. “When’s the last time any of you saw an animal here?”

There was a pause as the entire platoon—24 strong—scried through their collective memories.

“I… I don’t know,” Larn said. “I think I saw a bird maybe a week ago?”

“I saw some tiny insects two days ago,” Mursa said.

Okay, closer. Valeer thought, but that was still sinister, given how unusual it was. A forest like this should be teeming with life.

She was about to tell her team to pick up the speed when she got another transmission from command.

“Seeker One, this is Bivouac actual.” The voice on the other end was less steady and monotonous, now replaced with slight alacrity that betrayed urgency. “Two of the marines went to get a closer look at the unknown. They’re on their way back now, but wanting to know if you’ve seen any native life that resembles a…” A pause. Valeer got the impression they were confirming what they heard from the marines. “… a giant arachnid? Roughly five meters long and two and a half high?”

Valeer’s response was immediate. “Negative, Bivouac actual. We’ve not seen anything matching that description.” And she hoped she never would. If this planet had nightmares like that roaming free, she would have hoped they’d have been brought up in a briefing beforehand. “In fact,” she continued, “we were just discussing that we’ve seen almost no native wildlife.”

“Copy that, Seeker One. RTB ASAP. We’d prefer to have your team here with us in case they aren’t—” Another pause, this one less intentional, as if someone had interrupted.

Valeer heard someone else yelling in the background, “Get external cameras on Garro and Crell!”

Followed by Bivouac’s comms operator again, “Broodmother… It’s eating him alive!” The voice was slightly muffled; the comment was clearly meant for whoever was in the room with them.

“All units, engage those hostiles! Weapons free!” She heard someone else scream. Then came commotion on the radio and a thumping noise—someone was taking the comms set from the operator. A moment later, Valeer’s eardrums were assaulted with barked orders, revealing that someone was the mission commander, Captain Kreasec. Valeer could practically see the flecks of saliva flying out of his saber-toothed muzzle as he shouted, “Valeer! Get your platoon back here now!”

Valeer wasted no time ordering her platoon forward at the fastest possible speed, immediately sprinting to set the pace. “Move it, people! Command is taking casualties!”

That was all the motivation her pack needed; they sprinted alongside her toward the MFOB. There were no questions. They didn’t have to know the nature of the threat to commit, just that there was one, and that it was active.

Five minutes into their headlong rush, the radio crackled again. The operator was back. “Valeer, the Captain is saying that standard weapons are having minimal effect! Use your two-stage railguns!”

“What?” she caught herself saying. “What kind of animal can shrug off the point-defense turrets on the frigate?”

“They aren’t animals!” Came the panicked response, “They’re machines! They’re machines, and they’re eating people!”

Valeer kept talking as she willed her body to move faster. What she was hearing was surreal; it made no sense. “Bivouac actual, put me through to Captain Kreasec. I need to confirm—”

“Broodmother! One just pried open the rear offloading ramp before it could close!”

Valeer’s heart raced faster. Another muffled voice: “I’m taking off! Tell them to meet us at LZ Bravo!”

The comms operator diligently relayed the plan. “One got inside! We’re taking off to lose the rest of them! Meet us at LZ Beta!”

Captain Kreasec’s voice graced her ears one more time before the radio cut off: “Have those railguns ready! Bivouac actual out!”

Over the distant treeline, where stars could now be seen through the receding twilight, she saw the outline of the atmospheric frigate. All four of the powerful ventral thrusters were lit a bright blue-white hue, the light from which once again drowned out the fledgling starfield behind it.

Then disaster struck.

One of the ventral thrusters exploded in midair, searing the sky itself with the white-hot plasma within. The frigate began to roll over on itself. Losing propulsion at that crucial point threw the remaining thrusters into imbalance, which were already at their maximum safe takeoff output. Through a combination of unparalleled piloting skills and the onboard computer’s thrust-governing system, which began to limit the output of the overcompensating engines, the ship righted itself. For a moment, Valeer dared to hope the ship would recover, but it wasn’t enough; the frigate now drifted swiftly toward the ground in an uncontrolled tailspin. If it had been an MFOB atmospheric cruiser, it might have been able to weather the loss, but for the smaller frigates, each of the four main thrusters was critical. Valeer could do nothing but watch as the frigate disappeared back below the treeline, accompanied by a bright flash that briefly reverted the twilight, and the distant rolling boom of an explosion.