Triumph’s Ashes

The passage down the corridor was unnerving, even for Stone. Their external microphones caught every sound, but all they could hear were the mechanical noises of the warren. Air whooshed, distant water gurgled, engines whirred, and occasionally a circuit would crackle.

“Where is everyone? There’s supposed to be fifty people here,” muttered Stone. “Not even a bloody cat!”

As if on cue a calico emerged from a side passage, mewing. McGill knelt and the cat bent into her hand, purring.

“Back to work, Marine,” Stone snapped, and McGill straightened, abashed.

They moved back along the corridor, now accompanied by the cat, weaving in and out between their legs. Stone snarled, “Piss off,” but in the timeless manner of cats she was ignored.

“Davis, pick up that bloody nuisance before it trips someone.”

The cat seemed willing to accept the indignity of being carried, and they resumed their stealthier progress. After the turn they could see an open space at the end of the corridor and their uneasiness increased another notch.

Stone had almost given up on asking about motion on the sensors when McGill, still on point, held up a clenched fist.

“Got a reading. Sort of. It’s moving, but it’s slow and all over the place. Like they’re drunk.”

“A bit early to be stonkered,” said Stone. “But it’s not my home. Lead on.”

The corridor ended and they were in an open space, similar to an Earthly town square, maybe fifty meters on a side and lined with shops and other corridors heading away. McGill pointed left, then crept forward, weapon readied but not threatening.

A figure moved in the shadows of a storefront, then collapsed into the square, seizing.

“Cover me!” McGill said, then she hustled over, weapon shouldered. She took one look at the convulsing man and called out again.

“Kidwell! I need your medkit; this guy needs more than I can do!”

Kidwell didn’t even look at Stone, which she approved. McGill was in charge of the Marines in the escort, after all. Kidwell pulled a portable medkit from his pack and started extracting items.

“Nothing I can do until the seizure stops,” he said. “Looks like he’s burning up. Maybe a febrile seizure, but I thought those are mostly in kids.”

Stone was looking around. “Where the ever loving Hells is everyone?”

The final escort, and Davis, were peering around to no avail.

“No idea, Chief,” Davis said, absently petting the cat.

“Mazzi, poke into any store that’s open. Make lots of noise. These people are supposed to be our allies.”

“Ma’am.” Mazzi trotted to the closest door, which opened immediately.

“Chief!” he yelped, jumping backwards.

She broke into a sprint, pulling her pistol without thinking.

“What did you find?”

Mazzi pointed. “Them.”

She followed his finger to a pile of three or four bodies, twisted together in what looked to have been an agonizing death. And death it certainly was; cyanotic skin was a tell-tale sign.

She lowered her pistol and holstered it.