Hunger. Hurting. need blood need meat need to feed--bloodsmell close--getit chaseit catchit grabit getit getit

bloodsmell squirming in hand--killit eatit stophurting blood warm good meat warm good--

no not good not stop hurting not like others too small too furry not good like others

Hunger. Hurting. need others others good good blood good meat stop hurting others good others come soon

soon

one
 

The airlock door spiraling open, a C-class transport shuttle moved out of the CSS Saratoga’s hangar bay and into the vacuum of space. Beneath, hung the gray-green world designated UX581. The shuttle’s plasma engines spouted an indigo tail, and the craft descended. Soon it sliced into the planet below’s swirling atmosphere. Wet and warm the air clung to the shuttle like an invisible hand. Except for the ion trail glowing in its wake, blackness surrounded it.

Inside the shuttle a platoon of Rangers lay scattered about--some sleeping, some talking, a few watching the others. All wondered why they were here.

There was no war going on--not even one of the frequent proxy skirmishes Consortium and Xythythze had been waging for the past fifty years. No, this world--lying seventy-five light years beyond the frontier--was unexplored. There was nothing here but jungles and a Colonization Viability team, the scientists charged with researching the planet’s mineral and other resources with an eye toward colonization and exploitation. Perhaps this world would someday become center of commerce or of culture and learning; more likely, though, it would end up as a mining colony--a place of squalor and poverty relegated to serving Consortium’s dark inner works. For now, though, it was a cipher.

The flight deck hatch burst open, and Captain Stowne strode to the center of the craft’s cargo bay.

"Platoon, listen up," he said. "I know you’re wondering why we’re here. All I can tell you is that--for reason or reasons unknown--six weeks ago Colonial Command stopped receiving transmissions from the scientists researching this world."

"Our orders are to contact them, assess the situation, and take appropriate action--that means evacuate if necessary."

"If there’s anyone left to evacuate," a voice said from somewhere in the shadowed depths of the shuttle’s cargo bay.

Nervous laughter rippled through the platoon. Viability Teams had disappeared before.

"All right, that’s enough," Captain Stowne said. "But you have brought up an important point. This is an alien world, far beyond the safety of Consortium controlled space, and we have reason to believe something’s wrong here. It could be anything--something as innocuous as equipment failure, or something more serious, more dangerous. I’ll expect each of you to keep your eyes open and stay on your toes until we get this sorted out. That means I want full combat readiness when we deploy on the surface."

"As you all know this is an earth-type world. According to the infopack, sunrise will be about an hour and twenty minutes from now--so you’ll be deploying in darkness. Since this world has no moon, that means total darkness. The climate is tropical with daytime temperatures exceeding one-hundred degrees and high humidity. Afternoon rainstorms are frequent, the nights are warm and foggy. And there is a great deal of geologic activity-- volcanoes and earthquakes."

"Lieutenant Lawry will be in charge of operations on the surface. He’ll lead a recon of the compound at first light. Platoon Sergeant Bryant and everyone not selected for the recon squad will maintain security at the LZ."

Stowne gazed at the faces surrounding him. "We land in less than five minutes, so make your final preparations. And people" --he paused an instant--"good luck."

The soldiers distracted themselves with loud comments and last minute equipment adjustments: inspecting helmets and visor arrays, weapons and combatsuits; tightening pistol belts and pack straps. Stowne watched for moment--his expression a mixture of concern and pride--then returned to the flight deck.
 

The pilot, an intelligence officer named Shaw, looked up from the controls.

"Make sure you seal that door--I don’t want to risk letting any air from down there in here. No telling what kind of hostile microbes this ecology harbors."

"Bit overcautious, aren’t you?"

"No need to take any chances."

"You told me the contamination risk is minimal." Stowne glared at Shaw. "It is minimal isn’t it?"

"Yes, of course, it is, but protocols calls for a sealed flight deck and pressure suits on UX designated planets. If we don’t follow protocols, we won’t be allowed to return to the Saratoga without undergoing decon and quarantine procedures."

Stowne touched the door control. "Done."

"Go ahead and get into your pressure suit." Shaw’s pressure suit--sans helmet--was already on, the helmet’s neural interface umbilicus trailing across the deck.

Stowne opened a locker and began the long process of putting on a pressure suit. "I want you to know that I don’t like this mission."

"What do you mean?"

"For one thing they’re going in blind--no telling what’s happened down there. For another Lawry’s too green."

"That’s the military, troops do what they’re told--including Captains--and they don’t get explanations."

"That may be your idea of what we’re all about, Mr., but it’s not mine! Dropping a platoon into a mess like this with a green LT is a shitty thing to do. Period."

"Shitty jobs are my specialty." Shaw turned back to the controls, picked his helmet up, settled it on his head, and pulled the visor down.

"Hang on, I’m taking her down."

Plasma thrusters screaming, the shuttle descended. When it reached the LZ’s coordinates, it hovered a moment, then dropped through a hole in the jungle’s canopy of interwoven leaves and branches and settled against the ground.

Three doors slid open with a hiss of compressed air. Beyond them spread a planet veiled in blackness.
 

Lieutenant Lawry’s shouted, "Hit it, everybody hit it. Move! Move! Move!" rang out before the exit ramps touched the ground.

Specialist Eagleflight pulled his visor into place, rushed down the starboard ramp, and took position behind a rotting tree stump. He propped his 35mm Consortium Plasma rifle across the top of the stump and stared into the jungle’s heart of darkness.

In the eerie green-white tones of the visor’s night vision setting, the jungle was a forbidding sight. A solid wall of growth the vegetation rose, twisted and intertwined, more than a hundred meters before the trees’ tops disappeared into a bank of low lying clouds.

The rest of the platoon disembarked and took position in a matter of seconds, and, engines roaring, the shuttle blasted into the inblack sky, its blue plasma tails lingering long after the last echoes of its engines died away.

No one saw the eyes watching from the edge of the jungle.
 

Others here. Others bring good blood. bloodsmell strong strong blood stop hurting hurting bad blood good hunt soon feed soon stop hurting soon

soon
 
When the first rays of dawn colored the sky,,Eagleflight still held his position behind the tree stump. He heard the rustle of approaching footsteps, turned, and saw Sergeant Mullins.

"C’mon, Eagleflight," Mullins said. "You’re on the recon squad. LT wants you to report to him on the far side of the LZ. We move out in a quarter of an hour."

Eagleflight nodded and began to pick his way across the LZ. Situated atop a low hill the LZ, though less prone to the heavy fogs that covered the lowlands almost every night, was nothing more than a crude circle hacked from the jungle’s vegetation. Rotting stumps entangled in vegetation that sprang up to take advantage of the unfiltered sunlight covered the area. Scattered pools of fog concealed its surface; the odor of decay and the fragrance of new growth mingled in the air above.

Nearer the center, the stumps and undergrowth gave way to a level area. Here shuttle landings and takeoffs had burned the stumps and undergrowth level with the ground and fused the soil into a hard, glassy surface. A path, neglected and overgrown, led from the circle of scorched earth, down the hill, and into the jungle. Lawry and the other members of the recon team squatted on the path near the edge of the jungle. Eagleflight joined them.

Lawry nodded to Eagleflight. "I’ll begin the briefin’ soon as Sergeant Mullins gets back."

Mullins arrived a moment later, and Lawry began. His east Texas drawl gave him an easy way of speaking that helped him win the platoon’s friendship. Their trust and respect, he had yet to gain. He was likable but inexperienced--and they knew it.

"As yall know this world’s pretty much unexplored, so we don’t know exactly what to expect. There are several kinds of poisonous plants and animals--snakes in partic’lar. The antitoxin shots we all got on board the Saratoga oughta take care of that, but be careful."

"So far no higher life forms have been discovered. In fact there don’t appear to be any animals bigger than a medium sized hound dog. But I want yall to act like this is as dang’rous a mission as any you’ve ever been on. For all we know, we could be facin’ a Xthythzian invasion force before the day’s done."

"We’ll move out in ten minutes, followin’ along this supply path in a modified combat patrol formation. Eagleflight’s on point. I want the rest of yall to fan out in the jungle along the sides of the supply path--but not on the path."

He looked at the circle of faces. "Are there any questions?"

There were none.

"Good. Saddle up in seven minutes. Check your gear and activate your subcutes."

Each member of the unit had a pair of subcutaneous communications implants known as subcutes. The transmitter was nestled next to the voice box. The receiver sat against the mastoid bone behind the left ear. When activated the subcutes provided an audio link connecting every member of the unit to every other member. At times, though, the subcutes were too effective--a liability even. Due to the myriad dialects and variations in SCE--Standard Consortium English--not to mention some three hundred and fifty other tongues used in Consortium’s far flung empire, language recognition was impossible. Troops were forced to listen to every sound every member of their unit made hour after hour. This grated on the nerves. Worse, in combat the sounds of battle often drowned out attempts to communicate, the screams and moans of the wounded and dying destroying morale. But when a mission depended on stealth--as reconnaissance does--the implants were irreplaceable.

In addition to his audio implants, Lawry had a video implant. Attached to his optic nerves, it saw everything he saw. A unit on his pistol belt kept a digital recording of all transmissions--audio and video. Lawry activated it, also.

The sun had risen above the tops of the trees and burned down on the LZ when the squad entered the jungle. Trees rose thick trunked to the sky all around them, their branches spreading out far above to form the canopy. A solid ceiling of limbs and leaves, the canopy blocked the sun, shrouding a jungle floor choked with ferns and vines in eerie green twilight. Water was their constant companion--it dripped from the trees, the ferns, and the vines. Yet the heat was intense. Wet and heavy the air clung to them like a steaming wool blanket. Insects--bulbous creatures in impossible shapes and iridescent hues of red and blue, black and purple--swarmed through the humid air. A cloud of biting, buzzing life, they enveloped the squad, making each step a battle.

Two hours passed before Eagleflight saw the compound’s mushroom-like organic domes and signaled a halt.

Lawry crept forward, crouched at Eagleflight’s side. "Let’s move up for a closer look."

Together they eased to the edge of the compound. Located in a natural clearing, it consisted of a half dozen organic domes arranged for security and convenience, with clumps of brush and stunted trees filling the spaces between. A four meter wide swath cleared of brush and trees surrounded the area. Inside it, sonic projectors jutted out of the ground at fifty meter intervals. When activated they created a field of ultrasonic waves capable of reducing anything passing between them to a puff of atomic particles.

The air shimmered with heat and was laden with the odors of the jungle. Though there was no evidence of a battle, a preternatural silence hung over the compound. It seemed a place of bones, a place of death.

Lawry turned to Eagleflight, a troubled expression flickering across his pale blue irises of his eyes like the shadow of a cloud passing across a lake.

"So what do those supersensitive Cree instincts of yours tell you, Eagleflight?"

"I don’t like it, LT. I feel something very wrong here."

"I agree, but what?"

"I don’t know but--"

"Yeah, I know, you don’t like it."

"Affirmative, LT."

"Well, like it or not, we have to go in." Lawry signaled the squad to fan out along the edge of the clearing and provide cover.

In seconds they were in position, CP35s pointed into the clearing to create interlocking fields of fire.

"Okay," Lawry said, his face etched with lines of worry--and excitement, "let’s go."

Eagleflight tossed a twig across the swath guarded by the sonic projectors. Soon as it landed on the far side--intact, he dashed across the clearing, taking cover behind the first clump of brush. Lawry followed.

No longer blocked by the ceiling of leaves, the sky above was deep azure. Without the protection of the jungle’s canopy, the full weight of the planet’s star, larger and hotter than Earth’s sun, fell upon their heads. The heat was unbearable, and sweat poured down Lawry’s and Eagleflight’s faces. Only an occasional thundercloud sailing across the sky provided respite from the relentless rays.

They stopped at the first building. The door was closed.

"Take it, I’ll cover," Lawry said.

Eagleflight nodded and, staying close to the ground, hurled his body against the door. It popped, sagged on its hinges, swung open.

A flurry of motion burst from a nearby clump of brush with a rhythmic whirring.

Lawry spun around, finger tight on his CP35’s trigger.

"Birds," Eagleflight said.

Lawry checked himself, tension draining from his face as he watched the alinhe creatures wing into the sky. Then he stepped into the building. Eagleflight followed.

A barracks, six beds, nothing seemed out of place: Clothes hanging in the wall lockers, beds made as if waiting for their owners’ return. No sign of life.

The next three buildings housed work and storage areas but in every other respect were the same as the first. Then came the fifth building--the other barracks.

Eagleflight slammed into the door. It didn’t budge. He tried again. Same result.

They split up, each man--weapon held ready--taking one side of the building. Before he was halfway around, Eagleflight found something--a hole ripped through the wall, deep grooves like claw marks marring its edges.

"Over here, LT."

A moment later Lawry appeared on the opposite side of the hole. One look at it, and he called the squad.

The squad members materialized out of the jungle silent as smoke and moved in turns, crossing the open areas fast and low, one covering the other. Soon as they were fanned out around the barracks. Lawry and Eagleflight stepped into the shadowed interior.

Chaos.

A jumble of beds and lockers wedged against the door. Clothing in heaps as if dumped out and kicked aside. A cache of weapons in one corner, a CP35 lying on the floor, its barrel bent double. There was blood, too--smears of it dried maroon on the walls, pools of it congealed on the floor. But no bodies. Living or dead.

One building was left. The other lab.

Eagleflight kicked the door open. Lawry went in, eyes scanning the room. Something familiar hulked in the corner of the lab, something Lawry remembered from a B horror holovid--a Marsfeld Genetic Manipulator. This lab had nothing to do with the exploration of new worlds--biological weapons research was its only purpose.

Illegal in Consortium space and a violation of the Consortium-Xythythze pact that prevented all out war, the machine dominated the room--its history, Lawry recalled, as dark as its purpose. Intended by its inventor, Anton Marsfeld, to facilitate the repair of human genetic defects, the machine failed, genetic defects proving more recalcitrant than expected and the machine not as sensitive. But there were those who soon recognized the machine’s value in the design of biological weapons and put it to use. Marsfeld, a humanitarian, was so appalled when he learned of this that he committed suicide. In time science solved the problem Marsfeld dedicated his life to, but his invention lived on in horror vids--and illegal research.

Lawry stepped out of the lab without searching further--he had the first clue to the mystery. He added his comments to the recording of the morning’s patrol and called the communications specialist.

"Murphy, get up here, I have a commburst for the Saratoga."

"Yes, sir," she said and hustled up.

Lawry opened the unit on his pistol belt and handed her the memory chip. She loaded it into the transmitter, and when the ready light flashed, and she pressed the send button. Compressed into a twenty nanosecond burst a full length recording of the patrol hurtled into space.

Captain Stowne stood at a transpared hull section on the Saratoga’s forward observation deck, looking down at the enigma designated UX581. The gray-green planet appeared peaceful enough, but, an experienced soldier, Stowne knew that meant little.

"Captain Stowne?" a voice said behind him.

Stowne turned. The voice belonged to a fresh faced young ensign.

"Yes, I’m Captain Stowne. What I can do for you?"

The ensign saluted. "Mr. Shaw said to inform you that a commburst has been received from the recon team. He wants you to report to the Staff Conference Room on the quarter-deck."

"Very well," Stowne said, "tell Mr. Shaw I’m on my way."

"Yes, sir." The ensign saluted, again, turned, and walked away.

The Conference room door slid open, and Stowne stepped into the room. He looked at the three men seated at the conference table and snapped to attention, popping his right hand up in a crisp salute.

Admiral Wilson pointed to an empty chair across from Major Gramm, the Saratoga’s political officer. "At ease, Captain. Come in, have a seat."

"Yes, sir," Stowne said and took the seat.

"Captain Stowne," Shaw began, "thus far you’ve been kept in the dark about certain aspects of this mission. Quite frankly, this is a need to know situation, and you haven’t needed to know."

Stowne lifted his eyebrows. "Evidently, that’s changed."

"Yes it has. We’ve just finished viewing the recording of this morning’s reconnaissance patrol. And given the discoveries Lieutenant Lawry made, we feel your input is essential to the success of this mission."

"So now you’re going to fill me in." Bitterness filled Stowne’s voice.

"Captain Stowne," Major Gramm said, "your hostility is unacceptable. Perhaps I should remind you that--"

"Captain Stowne’s merely concerned about his people--as any good commanding officer should be," Admiral Wilson said. Then, turning to Shaw, "Please continue, Mr. Shaw."

"Let me see, where were we? Ah, yes, perhaps it would be best if we start at the beginning."

"When the first scientists came to determine if a full scale study of UX581 was warranted two years ago, they made a very interesting discovery. Several of this planet’s lifeforms were found to be quite extraordinary creatures--stronger, faster, more ferocious, and more resilient to injury than anything we’ve ever encountered. More detailed study revealed that these creatures are not individual species but the product of a symbiotic relationship."

Stowne looked at Shaw. "And?"

"Careful study of this symbiosis revealed that it was the result of a relationship between a somewhat ordinary host organism and a retrovirus. The theory was proposed that if this retrovirus could somehow be adapted to humans, we’d--"

"You planned to infect humans with an alien virus!"

"Well, yes, it was proposed--hypothetically of course. If we can perfect this technology, we’d be able to create an army of superhumans--faster, stronger, more resilient soldiers. We’d settle the Xthythzian problem once and for all!"

Stowne glared at Shaw, loathing in his eyes.

"Captain Stowne," Major Gramm said, "you’re not taking a very enlightened view of this. Perhaps you’re loyalty is not what--"

"This must come as quite a shock to Captain Stowne," Admiral Wilson said. He looked at Stowne. "I too found it hard to accept at first, but that’s neither here nor there. The job we’re faced with is cleaning up this mess--and that’s a mission of vital importance."

"Yes, sir, I understand," Stowne said.

The Admiral turned to Shaw. "Please, proceed, Mr. Shaw."

"Thank you, Admiral," Shaw said. "At present the situation is this: Lieutenant Lawry has secured the compound and made a preliminary search. It’s deserted--the V Team has vanished. But Dr. Maxwell’s lab was intact, so we believe we can rule out the possibility of an Xthythzian raid."

"Robert Maxwell, the geneticist?" Stowne asked.

"Yes. He was the project director."

"But why would a man like Maxwell get involved in something like this?"

"As I understand it, this particular strain of retrovirus is very specific in its action and is only able to establish a relationship with a small group of host organisms. In short it had to be manipulated at the genetic level to make it compatible with human physiology. Dr. Maxwell was the best man for the job --and we always get the best man."

"So," Stowne said, wondering what they used to blackmail Maxwell, "the virus had to be mutated."

"I suppose you could put it that way." Shaw leaned forward, smiled. "To continue with our discussion of the current situation, so far Lieutenant Lawry has kept the significance of his discovery from the enlisted personnel. Of course they’ll find out soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

"We’re going to tell them--our next move is to quarantine the planet. Until we know exactly what happened, we have no choice."

"For how long?"

"It’s hard to say. The contamination risk appears to be minimal--no bodies have been found--but something happened to the V Team. We expect the quarantine to create a great deal of tension. Lawry’s your man, he trusts you, and we feel that if you maintain command, we have the best chance of unraveling this mystery."

"You mean if I act as front man you have the best chance of covering your tracks," Stowne said.

"You certainly have a way of viewing things in the worst light, Captain Stowne," Shaw said. "The question is can we count on you?"

"I’ll do whatever I can--but you must keep in mind that my people are more important to me than your objectives, Mr. Shaw. I shall act accordingly."

"I understand your reservations, Captain Stowne," the Admiral said, "and I appreciate your position. But this is in an extremely delicate situation--I cannot overstate the enormity of the potential repercussions of this. Should the Xthythze learn of Dr. Maxwell’s work, it would, at the least, embarrass Consortium--and could quite possibly lead us into an all out war with an enemy we know little about."

"Yes, sir, I understand what’s at stake," Stowne said, "and I’ll do my part."

The Admiral nodded to Shaw.

"Since we understand each other, Captain Stowne, let’s get to work. Lieutenant Lawry’s waiting for our reply at this very moment."

The clouds had thickened above the compound. Their bottoms hung black, heavy, and low over the jungle. Static electricity charged air filled with the smell of rain. But the storm hadn’t yet reached the compound.

Murphy, the Communications Specialist, said, "LT, I’ve received an incoming commburst. The commlinks decoding it now."

"Good," Lawry said, "give it to me when it’s ready."

A moment later the indicator flashed and Murphy popped the chip out of the commlink and handed it to Lawry.

He put it in the unit on his pistol belt, set his visor to block outside light, and flipped the receive switch. The message poured through his subcutes.

Though Lawry didn’t know the Captain well, he knew him well enough to recognize his unease. A frown creased Lawry’s face. Before the message ended, the frown became a scowl. Lawry sat in the black silence following the end of the transmission for a moment before calling the squad up. He wasn’t bound to inform them of its contents, but the message concerned them as much as him.

"Turn off your subcutes, and c’mon up here."

The squad gathered around him.

"Like the old joke, there’s good news and bad news--I’m going to give yall the bad news first. The Viability study was only a front--the true purpose of this compound was virological weapons research, and we’ve been quarantined."

"Damn," a private said, "if that’s the bad news, I don’t want to hear the good news. We’re in deep--"

"All right, enough of that!" Lawry wanted to put a stop to speculation before it raged out of control. "We don’t have any idea what these people might’ve cooked up--or if it’s dangerous."

"Didn’t do them any good, whatever it--" another voice said.

"I said enough. The next one to interrupt this briefin’ goes on report." He looked into each pair of eyes.

"I don’t like this any better than yall do, but we’re stuck with it. This planet has been quarantined ‘til further notice, and we have to make the best of it. Can’t do nothin’ else."

"Now for the good news: Orbital observation has ruled out the possibility of an Xthythzian presence, so we don’t have that to worry about. And we haven’t found any evidence that some kind of a plague is responsible for the disappearance of the V Team--if so, where’re the bodies?"

Lawry paused for a moment to let them consider that hesitated before he continued. "People, something strange happened here--may still be happening. There’s no way of tellin’: One thing’s certain, though, the sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we’ll be back aboard the Saratoga."

"For the time bein’, I want yall to relax and get a bite to eat. Later this afternoon, Specialist Eagleflight will assist me in a more thorough search of the compound. Ever’one else will report to Sergeant Mullins for assignments."

He stopped as if finished, then added. "One more thing, subcutes will be activated durin’ hours of darkness, so enjoy the quiet while you can."

"Any questions?"

"When will the rest of the platoon join us?" Sergeant Mullins asked.

"In the mornin’," Lawry said. "Any more questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good, that’ll be all."

The storm struck in a violent frenzy. Lightning crackled, the bolts cutting through the sky like jagged blue steel blades mighty claps of thunder rumbling close behind them. Wind whipped across the compound, driving the rain down in sheets, the drops splatting warm and heavy against their skin like molten silver.

Deep in the jungle, oblivious to the rainstorm, it slept. A storm of another kind raged in its mind, in its dreams.

Blue sky. Pretty woman. pretty woman calls--

Bobby come here come to Mama Bobby waiting arms reaching arms safe arms closing holding no hunger no hurting

--no stop go away--

hunger coming hurting coming need blood need meat need to feed to hunt to kill to stop the hurting

Stop the hurting....
 
You'll find the concluding chapters of Windigo and more in the in "When Only the Moon Rages."