Vinaed

As soon as it falls to the ground and goes still, Crowley turns and quickly scrambles for cover behind a nearby stack of heavy storage units.

“Holy shit!” He exclaims, taking a moment to make sure the creature didn’t do any serious damage to the environmental seals in his body armor. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the Ssujak soldier Talisk moving quietly towards him from behind a low wall to his left. Talisk briefly surveys the vantage points in the immediate area before proceeding to join Crowley behind the steel crates.

“Dredges,” Talisk explains, crouching down beside Crowley, “Oban pets.” He pats his chest and thighs in search of an extra heavy ammo clip and, locating one, offers it to the human. “First time?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Crowley replies, snatching up the cartridge and reloading as fast as his fingers allow him to, “fucking brutal…” He leans back against the crates for a second to let the air out of his lungs and to wait for his heart to stop pounding, then pushes himself up into a crouch, ready again. He shakes his head. “They always come with those things?” He asks bitterly.

Talisk hisses a laugh. “In my experience, yes,” he says, and then perks suddenly. The sound of weapons fire from the communications facility a few dozen feet north of their position prompts him to ready his own weapon. He shifts his weight to peek around the side of their cover.

“More of those things?” Crowley asks. “Those dredges?”

“No.”

“Soldiers, then?”

“Yes.”

Talisk turns back around and lowers a knee to the ground. “Two of them,” he specifies, hastily divesting himself of explosives and heavy weapons. He hands them to Crowley and immediately begins tightening the strap holding the long-range rifle against his back, his face turned towards a two-story building immediately to their right. “They just entered the facility where Yveth and his men are.”

Crowley looks over at the building in question and then back at Talisk. “What’re you thinkin’?” He asks suspiciously, adding the other man’s explosives to his own supply. “Lieutenant Yveth’s orders were to hold this area.”

“Agreed,” Talisk says, finishing up. “I will not be far; stay down here—“ He starts to move, but Crowley pulls him back. He gives the human a dire look, even though the mask concealing his face keeps it from being in any way effective.

“Hey, whoa!” Crowley growls, confused.

Talisk tears himself roughly from Crowley’s grip. “I must move – now – to have a shot at the men I just saw.” He eyes the two-story building, determined and anxious. “There are no more Oban on the ground.” He goes to leave again, and again Crowley restrains him. This time, Talisk hisses his displeasure and raises the knife-like blade on the end of his segmented tail.

“Take it easy, pal,” Crowley says tightly, releasing the Ssujak’s arm. “What am I watchin’ for down here, then?” He asks. “How do you know that’s the last of ‘em?”

“You are watching my back, friend.” Talisk replies, causing Crowley to make a derisive noise. “The Oban do not typically fight alongside their pets…” He reaches out and taps the heavy pistol in Crowley’s hand with two fingers. “One down,” he says ominously, “one remains”.

“What? Where?!”

“Cloaked.”

“Oh for fuck sakes…“ Crowley starts, but Talisk leaves at once, slinking off towards the building on the right. He watches Talisk’s retreating back for a bit and tries to convince himself that being left to deal with the remaining dredge is actually a compliment and not some kind of challenge or insult. Settling on the former, he shakes his head and tightens his grip on his gun.

“Thanks a lot, pal,” he grumbles to himself sarcastically, turning his attention back towards the surrounding area.

The clustered housing structures – tiered, black, and utilitarian affairs arranged in a square formation with entrances facing a centre yard – are eerily silent. The wind, cold and persistent, occasionally wails angrily when it ventures though an open door and gets trapped inside a vacant building. The three other structures like this one were cleaned of corpses and immediately-salvageable materials by Crowley and the others earlier on; unfortunately, discovering the presence of Oban soldiers halted the clean-up process on this last structure midway through, leaving the area in a bit of a mess… A small number of Ssujak bodies litter the ground in the central yard, the remainder likely still – if the other structures were any indication – inside their houses.

Crowley exhales slowly, scanning the ground for disturbances that might flag the location of the cloaked dredge; he strains to pick up any audio clues as well, but the constant wind makes both tasks very difficult. Unable to detect anything on the ground, he looks up at the roofs…

A small object falls somewhere inside the house directly behind him, making a metallic little ‘ping’ sound as it hits the floor. Crowley cranes his neck around to look through the gaping doorway. There is nothing there, of course; the door opens onto what looks like a small dining & kitchen area, with a sitting room beyond that. From where he stands, he can see the side of a smooth table and a single, tipped-over chair; the kitchen looks a bit messy, but at first glance it’s impossible to tell whether that’s because a struggle took place there or simply because the inhabitants didn’t have the greatest cleaning habits.

After casting a cautious glance in the direction that Talisk disappeared earlier and determining that there isn’t much he can do for a man he can’t see (at least at this point), Crowley turns and climbs the two stairs leading into the small house.

A gust of wind rushes in along with him as he steps inside, screaming as it passes through the house and out a partially-open window in the sitting room across the way. Crowley examines the tight quarters – a dredge could probably fit, he gauges, but moving around would be a challenge… More challenging yet would be moving around quietly. This consideration, being more relevant to his current situation, gives Crowley a small sense of security.

Keeping his weapon nonetheless at the ready, he proceeds carefully into the kitchen. On closer inspection, it seems the inhabitants were perhaps not total slobs after all; the mess on the counters and floor appears to be the result of a desperate search. Only some of the flat, featureless cupboards and drawers hang open, while others remain closed, appearing as seamless panels. Various metal implements are strewn about, glimmering in the sunlight filtering in from the windows.

Looking for a specific object, maybe, Crowley wonders, making his way further into the house, or… He pauses, clearing the side of the counter. On the floor, bearing fatal injuries to its neck, right shoulder and chest, lies the body of a Ssujak colonist. Crowley’s eyes return to the metal cooking implements. Nope, he reassesses, looking for a weapon, I’d bet. A small pool of black, drying blood – nearly indistinguishable on the polished floor of the same color – extends out from under the corpse, any additional splatter completely invisible against the walls and cabinetry. Crowley shakes his head at the scene. Probably only woulda had to shoot once if they’d been able to tell it hit, he muses, instead of seventeen times just to be sure…

Grimly, he continues past the kitchen and crosses into the sitting room. A staircase on his right leads to a second floor. The small room looks undisturbed, save for a spindly and dessicated-looking plant tipped onto the ground right by the hallway; its dry leaves rustle as another gust of wind blows through the house.

Outside, one gunshot goes off. Crowley whips around to look back out the door. The sound came from relatively nearby, so…

Upstairs, something moves around quickly.

Alerted, Crowley leans over and peers up the staircase. A shadow passes against the rightmost wall. Slowly, he climbs the stairs, eyes up, ready to react. When he reaches the top, there is no one there. His gut clenches as he examines the open room, positive that the shadow he saw was not a product of his imagination and that he is not alone. The room he’s in are personal quarters; the sparse furniture and various accoutrements are stylistically similar to those he saw downstairs, but here – like the kitchen, only worse – things are thoroughly ransacked. To the left, an open doorway leads into a smaller room. At the back, a window bathes the room in dusty sunlight.

The window is pulled all the way open.

Another gunshot from outside.

Crowley hurries to the window and stands to the side, then leans forward a bit and hazards a quick look down. Nothing. His eyes flick briefly to the building Talisk fled to earlier – no sign of him either. Playin’ hide and seek now, I guess, he grumbles internally, frowning. You’d think I’m back home, playing with my son, ‘cept it’s easy to find him! He’s always up in the—

Inspired, Crowley turns to look up. Sure enough, flattened against the roof and trying hard to stay just out of his sight, is a frightened Ssujak colonist.

Some things, he figures, smirking up at his quarry, are apparently universal.

He removes himself from plain sight and calls out. “I’m not Oban – you saw that,” he says. “I’m here with Yveth,” he adds, hoping a familiar-sounding name might be more compelling, “now please get back in here. It’s not safe outside just now.” To his surprise and relief, he hears the distinct sounds of the Ssujak shifting towards the window. As he turns to lend a hand, however, he hears another distinct sound from the roof:

The shriek of a dredge, followed by the saccadic thud of chitinous legs connecting with steel.

Crowley plunges his top half through the open window and wrenches around to hurry the Ssujak’s descent, pulling her – it’s a she, he’s sure of it – back inside without any sort of finesse. Just as her small frame slides back inside the room, the dredge’s legs pound against the outer wall of the house, denting the steel around the window frame. Its bulk blocks the sun and four smaller, barbed legs erupt from fleshy folds at its front to grasp desperately at its escaped prey.

The colonist lets out a peculiar, startled yelp and throws her hands up, stumbling back.

“Get back!” Crowley shouts at her, grasping her arm and throwing her behind him, further into the darkened room and away from the window. Upon hearing him, the dredge shrieks again and redoubles its efforts; its four main legs rapidly hammer the outer wall like giant pickaxes as it shifts, extending parts of its body through the now-shattered window at each new angle.

At a distance he judges to be safe – or more accurately, ‘good enough’ – Crowley raises his weapon steadily and empties a clip of heavy-gauge ammo into the writhing mass of legs, teeth, and carapace pinned to the window. Chunks of the dredge’s natural armor splinter and fly off in a shower under the assault, revealing soft flesh beneath; it screeches as the last rounds bite into its squishy hide, sending pulpy red bits flying into the room.

Finally inconvenienced enough to let go of the window, it drops to the ground below.

Crowley turns and searches his person for additional ammo, his silhouette dark against the sun shining once again through the open window at his back. The female Ssujak is still there, sitting perfectly still against the back wall, right near the staircase, holding her knees to her chest. Reloading, he nods at her once. “You OK?” He asks.

Downstairs, something large fights its way into the building, causing a racket. The noise causes the Ssujak to look in the direction of the staircase, her tail twitching nervously. Suddenly, the noise stops. She turns back to Crowley and mimics his nod.

“Good,” Crowley says in return. He points to the small room off to the side. “Hide in there,” he says and walks past her towards the staircase, “I’ll be right back…” If I’m lucky, he adds to himself, padding downstairs quietly.

The dredge made it inside – he can hear it in the kitchen-dining area as he approaches the bottom of the stairs. Strangely, it doesn’t appear to be moving around very much. Crowley’s expectation was that it would continue to tear its way towards he and the colonist, eventually reaching an area too narrow to fit it – such as the stairwell – and then get stuck and subsequently be blasted to bits, but…apparently he was wrong. It did not proceed past the kitchen.

Eating, maybe? He wonders, recalling the male colonist’s corpse.

As soon as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and comes into view of the dredge, it shrieks – leaning forward on splayed forelegs, ensuring Crowley a good look at its rows of needle-like teeth – but does not move towards him. Instead, it stays by the doorway.

Confused, Crowley meets its gaze and cautiously takes two steps forward, holding his weapon up and aimed straight between its eyes. It lashes out at him, despite the considerable distance, and once again voices its displeasure – but still it does not move.

Shrugging, Crowley unloads. The creature is easily dispatched, its recently-exposed skin and insides shredded in a matter of seconds. The job done, Crowley shakes his head, admittedly a little relieved. “There has got to be an easier way…” He mumbles to himself, examining the dredge’s destroyed carcass for a moment. A footfall on the steps above him draws him from his contemplations.

“Are you alright?” A worried call from the very top of the stairs.

Crowley leans to the side to look up. The Ssujak woman is crouched, head titled in order to be able to see him clearly. He nods in response. Satisfied, she makes her way down the stairs just far enough to be able to turn and peer curiously into the kitchen.

“They never come in…” She says in disbelief, referring to the dredge.

“Why?” Crowley asks, curious.

“I don’t know,” she replies then goes quiet, thoughtful.

“Well listen,” Crowley says, impatient now, “I gotta move.” He was never one to sit and discuss. He waits until she turns to look at him before continuing. “Once my team’s done here we’ll take you offworld, alright? Grab anything you need to and just sit tight. I’ll be back to get you as soon as I can.” He starts off towards the kitchen and then stops after passing by the long-dead colonist who, he realizes in the moment, the Ssujak woman must have had some relationship to. He takes a quick look at the ruined kitchen, actually seeing it for the first time, and thinks briefly of his wife and son.

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, calling over his shoulder, then adds more quietly, “for the mess.”

And with that, he exits the small compound.