All the little lost boys and girls (Update: 26/5/12)

[Night_stalker]

Absolutely nothing, which is yet another problem with the DROP. Plus, what's to say that the creatures don't have some sort of acid for blood a la Alien? THe point is, this DROP can't be cleansed with infantry. At least, not without really heavy casulties. On the plus side, the poor souls trapped there won't want for food. After all, there's no party like a Donner party.

[Bladed_Crescent]

DROP 47 is looking more and more like a great vacation spot! We should plan an SDN meet there, it'll be awesome.

Several responses come to mind and I can't decide on one: pick whichever strikes your fancy

a) don't forget, it's BYOB - bring your own bullets
b) good guests will douse themselves in Worcestershire sauce and whack themselves with a meat tenderizer*
c) the meeting point will be just outside the Bloodbath & Beyond gift shop
d) this is some sort of scheme to cull/winnow the membership, isn't it?

*with apologies to Scott Adams

The eyes kill whichever of the DROP's inhabitants that they encounter? Are they there for that reason, to hunt on the DROP? Are the eyes human, or were they human?

Yes, no (recall that currently they're there to ensure that 'the birth' goes well) and [deleted].

Considering the size of a defended tribal home (plus the size of the station in and of itself) and the multiple (guarded) ways into said area, oxegen wouldn't be depleated that badly, plus you'd need a hell of a large fire (such as multiple corridors ablaze) to get that bad.

Ah, I was discussing precisely those types of smaller areas before.

Plus as a defended tribal home, there is no way for an opponent to flank you unless they broke though elsewhere.

In which case, you risk cutting off your own lines of retreat/escape. In smaller assaults, there's certainly a good reason to use incendiaries, but if you're under a major offensive, the limited use of flammables isn't bad either. Just don't use them to excess.

Like I've been saying, incendiary weapons are far from useless - it's just that there are limitations to their use and you want to be very sure it's not going to backfire [rimshot] on you.

As for smoke/flames imparing vison, well it works both ways. You might not be able to see through it, but neither will they.

True, but they're also not the ones who need to aim. While your defenders are now limited to 'spray and pray' or 'I think there's one over there', the Turned can charge through the blaze and get in close. Your survival depends on preventing exactly that. Remember that they can keep fighting with no head attached; a little vision impairment due to smoke is going to have greater negatives for you than them.

Single person carring an open ignition source (torch) and a couple of dozen glass bottles full of flamable fluid strapped around his chest? Not quite so workable.

That was the scenario I was thinking of and referring to, yes. The 'combined' approach has a lot more to recommend it. However, it's never been about the why use fire - just where and how.

Is fire really that effective against entities with a higher pain threshold and ability to regenerate wounds? What's to stop them killing everyone while on fire?

It cauterizes tissues, preventing said regeneration. To answer your second question: absolutely nothing, bar a 'fire bad!' instinct that they may or may not have.

(That was one of the things I liked about the Zombie Survival Guide. It said that while fire is really good for disposing of corpses and the like, using it on 'living' zombies is likely to bite you in the ass (often literally), simply due to the risk of it spreading and the fact that, unlike Left 4 Dead, a zombie doesn't die the instant fire touches it. Then, you've got the possibility of having to fight flaming zombies.)

Plus, what's to say that the creatures don't have some sort of acid for blood a la Alien?

Well, given that so far, they've done an awful lot of bleeding without showing indications of acid blood, I'd say that's a very remote possibility.

Idiocy? Incompetance? Or some dastardly, mustache twirling plan?

Test Subjects.

Quite likely.

Tum te tum tum te tum...

Ah heh heh heh.

[[R_H]]

So the EITD (because typing out eyes...dark is annoying) are also there for an experiment, if they're there to see the birth through? Do they have a connection with the Halo that was working on the DROP?

What about Praetorians, do they killfuck them too?

[Junghalli]

Several responses come to mind and I can't decide on one: pick whichever strikes your fancy

a) don't forget, it's BYOB - bring your own bullets
b) good guests will douse themselves in Worcestershire sauce and whack themselves with a meat tenderizer*
c) the meeting point will be just outside the Bloodbath & Beyond gift shop
d) this is some sort of scheme to cull/winnow the membership, isn't it?

I'm partial to A.

[iborg]

I've been reading the fic in the cleaned up sub-forum and since I'm plastered (no relation) I'll keep my comment short : EXCELLENT. No, seriously. This shit is publish-worthy. The writing works great for the genre/setting and while it's easy to spot some inspirations (Necromorphs from Dead Space for eg.) it doesn't drop into simple plagiarism (or else 99% of sci-fi/horror is plagiarism).
I'll be following from now on and looking forward to the next update.

[[R_H]]

I've been reading the fic in the cleaned up sub-forum and since I'm plastered (no relation) I'll keep my comment short : EXCELLENT. No, seriously. This shit is publish-worthy. The writing works great for the genre/setting and while it's easy to spot some inspirations (Necromorphs from Dead Space for eg.) it doesn't drop into simple plagiarism (or else 99% of sci-fi/horror is plagiarism).
I'll be following from now on and looking forward to the next update.

Come on, admit it, you started drinking because of this fic.

Also, you rat bastard, I thought there was an update.

I agree, it is an excellant fic. I started reading it at the beginning of August, I still can't believe I didn't do so earlier.

[Bladed_Crescent]

So the EITD (because typing out eyes...dark is annoying) are also there for an experiment, if they're there to see the birth through? Do they have a connection with the Halo that was working on the DROP?

Both of those questions will be answered in due time...

I've been reading the fic in the cleaned up sub-forum and since I'm plastered (no relation) I'll keep my comment short : EXCELLENT. No, seriously. This shit is publish-worthy.

Glad you're enjoying the story.

The writing works great for the genre/setting and while it's easy to spot some inspirations (Necromorphs from Dead Space for eg.) it doesn't drop into simple plagiarism (or else 99% of sci-fi/horror is plagiarism).

Thanks; I try to keep my plagiarism more complex.

I'd never deny the influence other works have had on this (I list the big ones right off the bat), but it's fun to take the general idea of 'monsters/insanity in space' and run with it.

I'll be following from now on and looking forward to the next update.

Also, you rat bastard, I thought there was an update.

You shouldn't have to wait too much longer; next chapter will be up shortly.

[Bladed_Crescent]

In this chapter: repercussions and contingencies. No EVA.

Coming up: Day three and you know you'll never be free.

Chapter 39:

A tram car was waiting for them at the transit terminal. “There will be some detours,” the Watcher explained. “The tram system really is in a most deplorable state of disrepair.”

Shannon nodded, moving to stand up at the control panel, the other members of her group boarding behind her, Louis and Abigail setting some of their arsenal down on the benches. “Breakdowns, barricades or sabotage?”

“Some of each.”

“What’s the point of that, I wonder?” Bujold said as he took a seat across the aisle from Emily. “I get there’s cars that broke down and nobody had the machinery, time or want to move them – but why deliberately try to fuck up the tramway? Those Turned things – they can go through the corridors or the vents.”

“It’s not for them. If the tram’s down, it makes it harder for rival groups to move throughout the station,” Shannon answered without looking up. “On foot, they’re slower and more vulnerable.”

“The Masks don’t like it when the Red Hands come calling,” the Watcher confirmed. “And there are others who use the tramway. More, ah, Lost Ones and... some others.”

“Others?” Lutzberg didn’t look up from his chosen seat, his knuckles whitening on the grip of his pistol. “You mean the stalkers.”

There was a brief pause. “Yes,” the Watcher affirmed. “Them.”

~

Noise. Prey always made noise.

-tainted blood calling out, can’t you feel it-

Sometimes it was screams and shouts, pleas to deities. This time, it was wet, rasping slurps and hisses from a throat no longer capable of speech.

-hungry, always hungry-

It struggled against the spikes, trying to pull itself free, ripping its own flesh as it thrashed and spasmed.

-never stopping, always burning, always needing-

Pink drool spattered out of its mouth, trying to gnash at the hand that touched its face. It was no longer a man. It was a Ribbon. The New Ones called them Turned. The Old Ones had had other names. One of them was ugly, not for what it meant, but for how it meant it.

-why we were made-

The counter-agent worked quickly. The Ribbon convulsed briefly and then it was still, its flesh already starting to break down. It would not regenerate, its hunger finally quieted. An image in a distorted mirror.

-Father didn’t want this for us-

Siblings in nature if not blood; they’d both been bred from the same seed.

-that’s what makes them a delicacy-

Umbra.

-it is everything-

~

The tram itself had no listening devices; only a single camera looking into the passenger compartment. Shannon leaned against the console, her back blocking the camera’s view. “He can’t be trusted,” she announced, drawing the attention of the other members of her party. “He said it himself – he was planning to kill us until he realized that he could use us.”

Hernandez nodded, setting his jaw. “Then what’s our play?”

“Our play is his,” Shannon replied. “For now. We play nice and do the fetch quest. It’s worth our time. Not just to get an... ally, but I have something else I want from it. Neither are worth dying for. If it’s too difficult, we bail. Is that a problem for anyone?”

“My honour will survive,” Louis quipped. “But after that, what do we do?”

“His maps are better than mine,” Shannon said. “But there’s something he didn’t want us to see. It’s on mine, not his. An oasis. He mentioned he didn’t have control over ‘oases’. So he didn’t want us to see it. If you’re planning on turning on someone, the last thing you want is to point out some place safe for them. ”

“Not to throw cold water on this faint glimmer of hope,” Bujold drawled. “But it seems we’ve two competing sources of information and neither are really trustworthy. Not meaning you,” he amended as Louis and Abigail turned to look at the corper. “But this is the first time I’ve heard of any map. Who made it? How long ago? For that matter, we don’t even know what these ‘oases’ are. Not to put too fine a point on it, we don’t even know if it’s something we want to find.”

“No, we don’t,” Shannon replied. “Not for certain. But I can tell you that, sooner or later, our ‘friend’ the Watcher will betray us. We’re going to need some kind of hole card for when that happens.”

“How do you know?” Lutzberg put in. “He’s buggy, but so is everyone else...”

“I know,” the corporal replied. “I can’t give you anything that I haven’t already. It was in way he talked, the words he chose, in his behaviour. We’re upsetting the balance. That’s why he wanted us dead before and why he’s going to try and kill us the second we’re no longer of use to him. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I’m starting to jump at shadows. But I don’t think so.”

Emily stood, moving to stand beside Shannon, the mercenary squeezing the smaller woman’s hand. “I believe you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Bujold and Lutzberg. “He could have helped Primal. He didn’t. He wanted them to die more than he wanted his memento.”

“We’ve survived longer than the others. It makes us useful but it also makes us a threat.” The red-haired woman nodded. “I couldn’t let you stay, but I had to make the offer. If I told him we were taking you with us, he’d know something was wrong. He still might. But the decision came from you... Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for seeing what I wanted. I don’t... I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

Emily reached up, lifting Shannon’s chin. “You would have figured something out,” she affirmed. “I know you would have.”

Shannon nodded awkwardly. She might have, but she didn’t know what. In the back of her mind, she’d been running the odds, different scenarios of extracting her people from the Watcher’s hands. None of them had ended well. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Then again, nothing seemed to end well here.

~

This was a bad idea.

In fact, it was a monumentally bad idea. But the Halo was right – clearly, their erstwhile ally wasn’t going to play fair. Intel had suggested as much. Counting on local support had always been a dodgy proposition, which was why the Planning Board had finally authorized the use of Silence and hired protection who knew their asses from their elbows. There was always that balance between usefulness and control and until recently, control had been the deciding factor.

In the agent’s opinion, Silence should have been deployed much earlier. Certainly before six hundred years were allowed to elapse. However, the Planning Board’s caution had overrode its ambitions. At least, until now.

For all the good that had done. Normally, follow-up expeditions were planned to arrive a fair amount of time after an initial foray – it made it difficult to capitalize on any particular mission’s gains, but it also prevented 47’s erstwhile guardians from becoming too interested in these visitations. If the last thing the Planning Board wanted was to have someone take notice of Silence, a close second had to be provoking the I-series. They were growing bold enough as it was. Asset Tracking had confirmed three raids outside the Mists in the past seventeen months, with another four probables.

But closer to the matter at hand, there was no way to prevent 47’s remaining systems from detecting incoming ships and therefore, no way to prevent the nesting populations from recognizing that reaction. Despite the weeks between their visitations, Kerrigan had arrived too soon after Primal and local infestations hadn’t gone fully dormant. With all the new biomatter available, they’d start expanding again. Which would mean another sort of response would be forthcoming.

Neither of which could be helped right now. So that left four objectives: complete this mission. Reach the station’s core (something which would have been much easier with a company of heavily-armed mercenaries). Summon Silence. And survive all the above.

To accomplish all of those would take some doing, but the agent had been training for this mission for years.

Of course, so had the others...

~

Abigail was reclining on a three-seat bench, arms stretched out along the top of the weathered plastic seating, seemingly at ease, trying to relax before their ‘mission’ began. In actuality, she was watching her companions. Like Shannon, she had concerns over Louis’s health and his long-term survival. So far he was holding up and that was all she could ask for. The others, though...

Delphini at least handled her weapon like she didn’t expect it to up and bite her, unlike Lutzberg. The PO had probably never had cause to use firearms before and he kept fiddling with his, so much that Abigail was tempted to take it away from him. Louis was keeping an eye on him though, and if this helped him feel more comfortable with the gun, that would have to do. Treating him like a green wouldn’t do anything for his morale.

And speaking of morale... the mercenary stood, so smoothly that she caught Lutzberg and Delphini by surprise, the former all but jumping in his seat and the latter’s head snapping towards Abigail. She nodded at them, striding into what passed for a control cab on the tram car – little more than a closet with a computer console, separated from the passengers by a rusted sliding door with a lock that no longer worked. In 47’s heyday, the tram system would have been fully automated with the controls only used if manual control ever became necessary.

With their new ally guiding them, Abigail felt a lot better with someone standing watch in here, though she knew that wasn’t the real reason her ‘little sister’ was here. Shannon was staring out the window, watching the darkness flow by, shadows and shapes briefly caught in the glare of the car’s flickering headlights before whipping past into the gloom behind them. Her red hair was hanging down her back, just past her shoulders, like matted strings of blood.

Abigail sat on the tiny bench against the back wall. It was barely big enough for one person, even without armour. “How are we doing?”

“Car’s on course so far, but the route we’re taking is pretty involved. The tram system’s full of holes and we spend more time shifting to secondaries and back to the main than actually heading to the sealed section.”

The Darkknell nodded; she’d seen at their route. It was more detour than not. “You’ve noticed Bujold’s a cross-draw,” she stated quietly.

“Yes. He’s more comfortable with those pistols than a corper security guard should be. He’s had training.”

“Thought so.”

“He’s from Vostok Nine, probably trained there, too. He’s good at concealing it, but I can hear touches of the dialect. It’s barely there, but he’s stressed and it comes out.”

“A professional, then,” Abigail mused. “Think he joined Hadley-Wright looking for a new lease on life?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a fringer changed their name and went legit,” Shannon replied. Usually to avoid creditors, or their own business associates. “I don’t know who’d go to the trouble of sending undercover backup when they’d already hired a ship of mercenaries. Or why.” She paused, looking up. “Someone with a different agenda. But that still leaves why and what...”

“Yeah,” Abigail sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” She leaned back against the wall. Neither women said anything for several moments.

“Something on your mind?” Shannon asked at last.

“Not really,” Abigail shrugged. “Wondering if there’s something on yours.” She reached up, unfastening her helmet, setting it onto the worn floor plates next to Shannon’s own.

“We can do this.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I know.”

“Tell me,” Abigail said quietly, leaning forward.

“You were there.” A pause. “He was going to rape me.”

Abigail nodded. “He had it coming.”

“But?”

“But, for me there wouldn’t be any ‘but’. You’re not me, Shannie.” Quietly: “It’s not like in combat, is it?”

Shannon’s voice hitched in her throat. “No. It’s not.”

“Then tell me.”

She looked away, staring even more intently out of the windows. “I try to put it aside, try to forget it, but I can’t. Halos... We can’t forget anything. It’s always there, always perfect in our minds.

The young woman squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing hitching in her throat. “I can feel it. The look in his eyes, the noises he made. The way it felt.” Shannon managed a short, barking noise – something halfway between a laugh and a sob. “God, the way it felt!” She pulled away from Abigail as far as the cramped compartment would allow. “I could have left him alive. I could. But I didn’t. I didn’t. I killed him. I knew all the ways I could hurt him, just from where I was.”

Staring out the window, her eyes had reddened, tears welling up in them. “I crushed his throat. I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. I saw every way I could hurt him and make him suffer and it felt good. It felt wrong and awful and... and good.” Shannon’s knuckles whitened as she grabbed the lip of the window. “It felt good,” she repeated, her voice sick with horror, going numb as the memories flood into her mind. “I can still feel him breaking. His tongue is on my face, I feel sick as he touches me, whispering under his breath. The tine comes loose and I throw him back. Then he’s clawing at my legs, but I won’t let him go. I want him to die. Fingernails scrapping at my thighs, gasping for air. Eyes bulging behind the mask – blood vessels are rupturing. Subconjunctival hemorrhages. I’ve already crushed his larynx and he’s bleeding under the skin there. Still trying to speak, trying to beg, but he can’t. I’m watching him die.”

“Hey!” Abigail stood, turning Shannon around to face her, giving the younger woman a shake. Shannon’s eyes were blank, staring past Abigail as if the other woman didn’t even see her, still whispering that empty litany, every detail of the feral man’s death playing itself back over and over. “Come back! You’re here with me. Come back!” Abigail had known Shannon had an eidetic memory – she’d seen the Halo recall things in perfect detail from weeks or months before, but she’d never seen something like this. “You’re not there, all right? It’s over. It’s over.”

The fugue state seemed to clear and Shannon focused on Abigail, finally registering her. “I remember it,” she said through her tears. “I can still feel what it’s like. I can... I can...” she convulsed and pulled away. Knowing what was coming, Abigail let go. Shannon leaned out the broken window and retched, throwing up a stomach full of half-digested MREs and acid. Abigail was behind her, the Darkknell’s holding Shannon’s hair back as the corporal vomited.

Finally, she was finished and pulled herself up, her throat burning. Abigail handed her a flask of water and Shannon took a gulp from it, washing the unpleasant taste of bile out of her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, handing the canteen back.

Hutchins shrugged. “You fit?”

Shannon looked away. “Does it get better?”

“It did for me. I don’t think it should for you.” Abigail tried to force a smile, but the best she could manage was a upward twitching of her lips. She’d never wanted Shannon to experience something like that. She pulled her ‘little sister’ close as the tram shifted onto a secondary track,.

“I can still hear them screaming,” Shannon whispered, the grip of her memories starting to pull her back. “I can smell it, hear the guns. They keep screaming, always screaming. Only quiet when they’re dead. They were our friends. They were our friends and we-”

“Stay with me,” Abigail said, unsure of what else to say. “Stay with me, Shannie. You’re not there. You’re not. You’re with me.” On this fucking station. Shannon’s breathing slowed down and began to even out. “You’re with me,” Abigail repeated the words, over and over, until the Halo was able to pull herself fully out of the past.

She shivered, embarrassed to face her ‘big sister’. “Thank you.”

The Darkknell shrugged, at a loss for words. Finally: “Better?”

Shannon nodded. “Better.”

Abigail clapped the corporal on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it, ma’am. If you went buggy, that would leave me in charge of these twits.”

The younger woman mock-shuddered, grateful for the glimmer of normalcy. “I think they’d be better off with the monsters.”

“See, this is why you have to stay clear, Four. Otherwise it’s just me and Louis. And about five minutes after that, it’ll just be me.”

Shannon bent down to retrieve her helmet, handing Abigail’s to her. “Then I guess I’d better keep it together, hadn’t I? For... Louis’s sake.”

Abigail’s lips turned up in a lopsided smirk. “Sounds good, Four. Sounds real good.”

The red-haired woman nodded. She forced a smile and if neither of them were fooled by it, neither of them said anything.

You’re with me.

[LadyTevar]

Ohhho... a spy in the midst, and the plot twists horribly. But the soul-searching was a very cleansing moment.

[iborg]

Let's start the bets for the spy's identity !
Me, I choose Emily. Buford's too obvious, but then it might be too obviously obvious...

[[R_H]]

The stalkers?

In fact, it was a monumentally bad idea. But the Halo was right – clearly, their erstwhile ally wasn’t going to play fair. Intel had suggested as much.

How were they getting intel from the DROP? Drones?

In the agent’s opinion, Silence should have been deployed much earlier. Certainly before six hundred years were allowed to elapse. However, the Planning Board’s caution had overrode its ambitions. At least, until now.

Who, or what is Silence?

Normally, follow-up expeditions were planned to arrive a fair amount of time after an initial foray – it made it difficult to capitalize on any particular mission’s gains, but it also prevented 47’s erstwhile guardians from becoming too interested in these visitations.

Is the intel coming from (survivors of) previous expeditions who've set themselves up in the DROP?

If the last thing the Planning Board wanted was to have someone take notice of Silence, a close second had to be provoking the I-series. They were growing bold enough as it was. Asset Tracking had confirmed three raids outside the Mists in the past seventeen months, with another four probables.

So the I-series has access to ships. Silence is already on board the DROP, right?

But closer to the matter at hand, there was no way to prevent 47’s remaining systems from detecting incoming ships and therefore, no way to prevent the nesting populations from recognizing that reaction. Despite the weeks between their visitations, Kerrigan had arrived too soon after Primal and local infestations hadn’t gone fully dormant. With all the new biomatter available, they’d start expanding again. Which would mean another sort of response would be forthcoming.

So the infestations are just part of the security of the DROP - and whoever's in control of (most of) it (the eyes, the stalkers) has something the Planning Board wants?

Neither of which could be helped right now. So that left four objectives: complete this mission. Reach the station’s core (something which would have been much easier with a company of heavily-armed mercenaries). Summon Silence. And survive all the above.

If they had bothered to inform the mercs, they would have had a much better chance at accomplishing the mission. Silly Planning Board.

How many mercs are still across the DROP, as of this chapter?

[Themightytom]

Silence has got to be a third ship in the area.

I like what's going on with the halo, she's turning into a reluctant hero.
..also maybe a lesbian...

Bladed I can't believe how big this story is. I KNOW you're work and I thought this would be a simple in and out, you're really headed for Epic. I wish I had you're writing pathology style.

[UnderAGreySky]

I know this doesn't add anything to the discussion, but:

Bladed Crescent: Your Children of Heaven was one of the best pieces of fiction I'd read on the internet or offline. This story just proves that you're just goddamn too good. Keep writing, please.

[lukexcom]

Excellent chapter. My money's on Bujold being the agent, not just from the hints of this chapter, but considering how he just appeared behind Lutzberg all of a sudden some chapters back, and he seemed relatively well-composed compared to Lutzberg, which to me hints at either special training. And some luck, too; Planning Board agent or not, I don't think anyone's chances of surviving an encounter with the stalkers is very high; even Jane with her fully-decked-out power armor feared them.

On another note, as excellent as this story is, I find myself craving more. Can anyone recommend a good hybrid sci-fi/horror novel or short story? I know "Screamers" (movie) was mentioned, which was based off of Philip Dick's "Second Variety" short story.

[Darth Nostril]

I like what's going on with the halo, she's turning into a reluctant hero.
..also maybe a lesbian...

What do you mean turning, she's had the hots for the pretty nurse from the beginning.


Problem with the word oasis is that it can mean the same thing to so many different types of 'people', methinks our erstwhile heroes shouldn't be in such a hurry to get to one.

[Darth Nostril]

I'd hoped Calvin would make it. I wonder if we'll see him again ... or parts of him

Well the way I see it Janes blade severed various important parts causing brain death, no matter what the infection does to his still warm mortal remains Calvin himself is gone and safely beyond the reach of the horrors of DROP 47. Not perfect but the best she could do in the circumstances for a friend.

[iborg]

I'd hoped Calvin would make it. I wonder if we'll see him again ... or parts of him

Well the way I see it Janes blade severed various important parts causing brain death, no matter what the infection does to his still warm mortal remains Calvin himself is gone and safely beyond the reach of the horrors of DROP 47. Not perfect but the best she could do in the circumstances for a friend.

I agree, it was truly a mercy killing. And he did apparently turn Jane around from "kill them all !" to "maybe I should help them by not killing them ASAP".

[Swindle1984]

I'd hoped Calvin would make it. I wonder if we'll see him again ... or parts of him

Well the way I see it Janes blade severed various important parts causing brain death, no matter what the infection does to his still warm mortal remains Calvin himself is gone and safely beyond the reach of the horrors of DROP 47. Not perfect but the best she could do in the circumstances for a friend.

I agree, it was truly a mercy killing. And he did apparently turn Jane around from "kill them all !" to "maybe I should help them by not killing them ASAP".

Too bad she wasn't smart enough to loot his corpse for ammo. If he was running low, she had to be too.

[Darth Nostril]

She had no time, the enemy were right behind them.
This isn't DnD where you've always got time to loot the corpses, in this world you've got to keep moving to stay alive.

[[R_H]]

The agent had trained for years,the others as well -who are the others?

[Bladed_Crescent]

Ohhho... a spy in the midst, and the plot twists horribly. But the soul-searching was a very cleansing moment.

Thanks; I wanted there to be some repercussions for Shannon. She's not an Action Girl who can blast, stab and strangle her way through hordes of enemies with nary a backward glance and never a strand of hair or smidge of makeup out of place.

The light passes me by
I tried to wash myself clean
My soul has since then died
But let me tell you I am doing fine

How were they getting intel from the DROP? Drones?

Presumably relayed from the other expeditions before they 'went dark', so to speak.

Who, or what is Silence?

That would be telling, wouldn't it?

Is the intel coming from (survivors of) previous expeditions who've set themselves up in the DROP?

No.

Silence is already on board the DROP, right?

Nope.

So the infestations are just part of the security of the DROP - and whoever's in control of (most of) it (the eyes, the stalkers) has something the Planning Board wants?

In a manner of speaking.

If they had bothered to inform the mercs, they would have had a much better chance at accomplishing the mission. Silly Planning Board.

Usefulness versus control. The Planning Board wants something(s) from DROP 47, but I'd hope it's clear by now that they also don't want anybody else to know about it. The mercenaries were hired with a very specific goal in mind. Nothing too mysterious, but it's still a goal distinct from the rest of the plan. Besides, if you tell a couple hundred people that a) you know all most some of what's going on on a long-lost space station thought by most to be nothing but a myth and b) that the station is infested with the insane, the infected and other shades of the lost and the damned, that information is going to get out. Which is what the Planning Board doesn't want. They've waited six hundred years to take DROP 47 and what it promises means they'll wait another six if they have to.

Why will become a bit clearer in the next chapter.

How many mercs are still across the DROP, as of this chapter?

As many as the plot dictates.

Not that many, though. The eyes in the dark have been very... thorough.

Silence has got to be a third ship in the area.

That would also be telling, yes?

Bladed I can't believe how big this story is. I KNOW you're work and I thought this would be a simple in and out, you're really headed for Epic. I wish I had you're writing pathology style.

Heh; I try.

Your Children of Heaven was one of the best pieces of fiction I'd read on the internet or offline. This story just proves that you're just goddamn too good. Keep writing, please.

Thank you; I've been doing a lot of editing on it (even sent in several queries) since it came down. I have done some work on additional little snippets and been considering posting one or two (since they're not intended for publication).

Let's start the bets for the spy's identity !
Me, I choose Emily. Buford's too obvious, but then it might be too obviously obvious...

Excellent chapter. My money's on Bujold being the agent....

Thank you.

In regards to the agent, I definitely have some plans there. Hopefully when they come to fruition, they'll be suitably surprising.

Can anyone recommend a good hybrid sci-fi/horror novel or short story? I know "Screamers" (movie) was mentioned, which was based off of Philip Dick's "Second Variety" short story.

If you like Star Wars, I recommend Death Troopers. Can't think of any more off the top of my head, though I know I've read a bunch. For less sci-fi there's Dance of the Dwarves/The Adversary (again, with the caveat of not reading the bullshit introduction/prologue).

Problem with the word oasis is that it can mean the same thing to so many different types of 'people', methinks our erstwhile heroes shouldn't be in such a hurry to get to one.

Well the way I see it Janes blade severed various important parts causing brain death, no matter what the infection does to his still warm mortal remains Calvin himself is gone and safely beyond the reach of the horrors of DROP 47.

I guess we'll see, then.

Ah heh heh heh.

Too bad she wasn't smart enough to loot his corpse for ammo. If he was running low, she had to be too.

She had no time, the enemy were right behind them.
This isn't DnD where you've always got time to loot the corpses, in this world you've got to keep moving to stay alive.

Exactly. It's not just a matter of scooping up a few loose clips that have fortuitously fallen right where you can get them easily. And with a plethora of horrors one (loosening) hatch away, she certainly didn't have enough time to resupply off Calvin's corpse.

]The agent had trained for years,the others as well -who are the others?

Who were the others is a better question, though the answer to both is the same - does it matter*? They've been dead for quite some time.

*

[xt828]

Surely the Planning Board is after the instructions on how to make the supersoldier types mentioned as the goal of the research in the flashback to when the place was operating, or one of the attempts in an effort to backwards engineer their own. It's either that, the magical making machine (Neumann?) or the source of the insanity - I think it was some sort of archaeological site on a nearby world, but that'd be a bit too obviously Dead Space-inspired to be reasonable. The idea that the mercs could sieze a person/person-type thing and have it be the goal reinforces that supposition.

One assumes that Silence is some sort of stealthy long-term observation ship with a team or former team of specialists aboard. Entertaining thought - if they've been there longer than the current crew, chances are that they're more insane. Good times* ensue. My vote for the agent is Emily, based on her having hidden evidence of another of her team having been there - the patch she found in the tribe's trophy room, which she knew Shannon would recognise.

I'm intensely curious of the apparent link between Shannon and the original researcher. Moar.

*For the value of good times that equates to interesting reading, before you all start whinging about my sanity again.

[[R_H]]

I'm intensely curious of the apparent link between Shannon and the original researcher. Moar.

I can't help but think the original researcher is still somehow involved with the entire affair.

[Darth Nostril]

Umm you mean Shannons great grandfather who died in the first chapter at the hands of his own creation at his own request because he wanted a clean death instead of being torn apart and eaten by the others.

[xt828]

That guy. The person who put him out of his misery refers to him as her father, which I assume is not literal but it may be. That person is entrusted with 'saving' the rest of his 'children' and I think it's reasonable to think that she or her descendants will at some point encounter at least part of the main group. I recall that at some point Shannon was recognised by something on-board, and as the protagonist of the story she's going to have interesting stuff happen to her. There's the potential that she'll be seen as family.

There's also the suggestion that Halos can go really, really wrong under the right circumstances, which I'd like to see more on.