Shadows from the Badlands

Michael had only been on board the Bunker Hill for moments before the it became readily apparent that something had gone very wrong. The sensors of his combat suit were detecting the same indistinct noise that he had figured for insects on the planet. Somehow quarantine must have failed, and the unknown and distant insect he had hear on the planet must have made it on board. Exactly why bugs would be such a dangerous concern, he wasn't sure yet, but obviously something had made the colonists below disappear, and by all evidence, the same had happened to the crew of the ship.

His suits sensors were picking up very little in the way of other noise. At the maximum detection settings, he would likely have been able to pick up the faint beating of a heart from almost twenty feet, and a conversation should have been barely discernible from any point on the ship that was not sealed against a vacuum. As of right now, with filtering out the low frequency buzz, he heard the slow and steady drip, either from condensation or a leaking pipe.

Other sensors built into his suit reported on his HUD a variety of other unusual facts. The carbon dioxide content of the air was unusually high, and methane levels had spiked as well. It was disconcerting when he accessed a remote console and discovered that after multiple diagnostics run by the crew before their disappearance, all life support systems had checked out as fully functional. The CO2 levels, he figured, would indicate a large number of creature breathing, or when coupled with the methane, a large amount of bacteriological decomposition or waste products. Neither of which were normal on a ship.

He was generally making his way towards the ships medical bay, which for the expedition had been retrofitted with additional lab space for the study of organic samples. Any quarantine break would have either started there, or been worked on there before the crew vanished. It was the most likely place for him to find answers. He was half way their before his suit gave an alarm, his sensors had detected a spike in both the background insect sound, which it now identified as a single entity approaching him, and a spike in both CO2 and methane. He brought his shotgun up, loaded with soft lead shot, specially designed to maximize spread and minimize ricochets, it was ideal for shipboard combat, the only weapon doing better for the close confines of a ship were flame and plasma based weapons.

He continued closer to the medical bay, it was now clear that whatever was making this noise was near or inside it. He rounded the last corner, now able to see the doors that would lead to the laboratories, and saw what at first he thought was a crew member, staring dumbly at the doors, as if he had forgotten how to open them. His sensors highlighted the fact that something was wrong. Thermals coming from the man, whom he could now identify as one of the bridge crew he had flirted with on the voyage to the missing colony, were off. Parts of the body were unusually cold, almost room temperature, and the source of methane and CO2 were emanating from him, indicating that the man was decomposing. When the man turned to face him, parts of the skin on his hands and face had been eaten away leaving the flesh underneath exposed. There was a cavity ripped through his uniform and stomach, it was seeping and oozing a dark gray material. Michael, thoroughly enclosed in his combat suit, could not smell anything, but additional readouts on his HUD indicated that the smell would have been horrific.

As the former crewmen began shambling towards him, something shifted in the stomach, and began inching it's way out the the cavity. It appeared to be a grub like creature similar to a maggot, only many times the size, almost as big as his armor plated fist.

He aimed his shotgun at the midsection of the crewman, and through the suits speakers he addressed the crewman, "Stay back!" No sign of recognition played across the mans face, and the grub had almost half exited the wound on his stomach. He pulled the trigger of the shotgun, the sound coming through the sealed armor plating of his suit as a muffled wump. The man staggered, at a range of only ten feet, the shotgun blast had torn a section out of his side, and tore apart the creature in his stomach. Yet even then, the man clearly no longer possible to be alive, simply staggered and began shuffling forward once more. Michael pulled the trigger again, this time aiming for the upper chest and neck, hoping it was like the zombies from movies and that severing the head or spinal column would stop the advance of the creature. The round nearly severed the head, causing it to dangle back, connected only by a few ligaments, but still it ambled forward.

Michael braced, and switched the shotgun from single shot to automatic. It would empty the ammo supply quickly, but he had more. He pulled and held the trigger, multiple rounds ripping through the, for lack of a better word, zombie. Only the structural bracing of the combat suit allowed him to stay upright. The creature was torn apart as an additional 28 shotgun rounds tore into it in the matter of seconds. It was now thoroughly dead, a collection of mashed meat on the floor and bulkhead. He reloaded the shotgun, painfully aware that he only carried two more magazines, and hoped that the entire crew had not been turned into this.

As the audio sensors on his suit re-tuned themselves after the overwhelming sound of the weapons fire, they reported that the ship around him was coming alive, teeming with multiple creature, most likely similar to the zombie he had just killed. Out of a crew of a little over a hundred, at least fifteen creature could be distinctly identified as approaching him from across the ship, with possible 30 more the could not be singled out from the rest of the noise due to distance. Other strange noises could be heard, a ticking of feet, distinct from the stumbling shamble that were the zombies, and a slithering noise akin to a snake. Nearest to him, having started after the rest of the organic noise, was a metallic thumping, sounding like someone in a heavy combat armor.

He was getting ready to turn and run, visions of one of the zombies clad in marine combat armor, almost immune to his shotgun when his com gear crackled to life "Anyone out there, I heard weapons fire, this is marine sergeant Foxworth."

"Foxworth, this is Michael Carson, I'm outside the med-bay, what's your location." Relief flooded through him, someone survived, who could tel him what happened. He hadn't done much talking with the marines, but he thought he remembered seeing Foxworth on occasion, in the mess hall.

The metallic thumping was close, maybe 20 feet away, and Michael was hoping that he was hearing the marines approach. He was. "Carson, approaching now, you can probably hear me, wheres your shuttle, we need to get off this ship."

"Not far, docked at the airlock on this level."

The marine barreled past, nimbly avoiding crushing Michael in spite of the bulky armor he wore. As he passed he could see the heavy flame throwers that he had wished for only moments ago.

The barked "What are you waiting for Carson? Cover my back and lets go," rekindled the ability to move and think and he took off after the marine, his speed in the lighter armor he wore allowing him to close the distance. At the full sprint, it only took minutes to get back to the shuttle. Even over the noise of movement and the large rumbling marine, his audio sensors were showing numerous motion contacts very close to them.

When they got to the airlock, they forwent the standard airlock cycle and just vented the nearby ship and shuttle to space. As the hatch sealed a large, scythe like arms jammed itself through the hatch, trying to keep it open, the hydraulics whined and snapped shut, leaving the arm twitching on the floor of the shuttle. Emergency procedures let Michael over ride standard departure procedure the shuttle flight computer was barking at him and they broke free from the airlock, leaving it gaping open and venting the star ship of it's atmosphere. In the escaping gasses, Michael could see a number of the crew, writhing and flailing in the void of space, and a number of large, worm like creature, twisting and trying to propel themselves back towards the Bunker Hill.

He turned to the marine, his voice serious, "What the hell happened, Foxworth."