Chapter 34: Recovery

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"So what in the hell is that thing?" Greg asked.

They were flying back to Armitage Station now, after having finally rigged the thing to the bottom of the Pelican with some intensely strong cargo cables. Even now he didn't feel comfortable. He kept half-expecting a clawed arm to burst up through the deckplates. Something about the Flood felt somehow immortal, unkillable, even though he knew otherwise.

"I have no idea," Yamazaki murmured. "Large."

Izzy snorted. "Duh."

"I mean, where did it come from? I don't remember reading about anything on this planet that could produce something like that. Or did I miss something? That's entirely possible," Greg said. He'd been thinking about it ever since they'd begun the task of securing it.

"No," Yamazaki said. "From what I know of this planet's native fauna, I don't believe there is anything large enough to produce that."

"Then where the hell did it come from? I mean, from what I've been able to gather, Flood, in their natural form, are just those little popcorn things, right?" he asked.

"Based on the intel, yeah," Ellis said. "And yeah, I can't think of anything that could've produced it either. Maybe..." she frowned, trailing off.

"Maybe what?" Greg pressed.

She sighed. "I don't know, maybe those Infection Forms are just one base type. Maybe there's others? What about that weird one you found? I don't remember seeing any of the little stalks sticking out of it, and it didn't look like anything I've seen so far."

"But this one did have stalks sticking out of its face," Izzy said.

Greg thought about it for another minute, then gave up with a frustrated sigh. "Well Doctor, it looks like you've got your work cut out for you."

"Apparently, although," he frowned, "I'm not liking what I'm hearing about this Armitage Station."

"You're going to like what you see a whole lot less," Ellis said with a sardonic laugh.

"Yeah, that's true. Okay hold on, I gotta try Gibson again. He's going to want to hear about this," Greg said, keying his radio once more. He'd already attempted contact twice since the attack of the tank-like creature had ended, but so far there'd been nothing. And again, after a few tries, he gave up. Still nothing but dead air.

"This damned interference," he muttered.

As if in response, the Pelican gave a lurch.

"What was that?!" Izzy snapped. "Is it waking up?"

"No, no...just the engines lost power for a second," Breaker called back.

"Oh great, so much more comforting!" Izzy growled.

"We're fine! I promise!" he assured them from the cockpit.

Greg crossed his arms and sat back, closing his eyes. The situation was out of his hands for the moment. He waited. The Pelican shuddered a few more times. He could hear Yamazaki muttering something to himself, staring down at the floor. Hopefully already thinking about the Flood, maybe organizing everything he knew about them so far. He felt something brush against his leg. Glancing down, he saw Izzy's fingertips against his thigh. He looked up at her. She met his eyes and grinned, somewhere between coy and seductive.

His eyebrows shot up a little. Just a little. She could, apparently, pull off seductive quite well. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed softly.

Great place for it.

He heard her laugh quietly.

"Okay! Home sweet home!" Breaker called out.

"Thank God," Greg muttered.

While they went in for a landing, he activated his radio, deciding to try for Gibson one more time. Maybe now that they were closer-

"Walker! You read me!?" Greg jerked in surprise. Gibson sounded excited.

"I read you," he confirmed. "We have Yamazaki and have just gotten back to Armitage. We also encountered a new type of Flood and retrieved the body."

"Holy crap, seriously? That's great. What is it?" he asked.

"A twelve foot walking tank," Greg replied dourly.

"Twelve feet!? Good lord. Well, great work. I just called to say that I found the second scientist I was looking for. She's a virologist. Doctor Turner. She's in trouble, holed up and injured at a communications array fifty miles from your outpost. I need you to get there ASAP."

"Understood. Give me the coordinates." Greg listened closely as Gibson rattled off the numbers, made sure he had them, then stood up and moved into the cockpit and repeated them to Breaker, who immediately began punching them into his navigational system. "Got it. We'll get it done. We'll take off as soon as we've offloaded the new Flood."

"Perfect. Out here."

Greg sighed and turned to face the others. They were moving down the back ramp now. He joined them. Izzy, Laney, and Ellis went about undoing the cargo cables that held the big brute in place. Yamazaki looked at Armitage Station, frowning deeply.

"This is it?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yep, tried to warn you," Greg replied. "Don't worry, we're going to bring you a friend to help. Just got word that someone named Turner needs a pickup."

His expression turned more sour. "Of course it would be her."

"You know her?"

"Yes. She is...cold. And cruel. But," he admitted with a sigh, "she's an excellent virologist. An extremely sharp mind. She's smarter than me...and never fails to remind me."

"I'm sure you two will get on great," he said.

"I'll need your medic to help me get set up," Yamazaki said.

Greg grimaced. "Need?" he asked. "Turner is injured."

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Time is a factor on my end. I'm afraid I must insist."

He sighed softly and considered it. Between them, he was sure they all had enough basic medical knowledge to patch her up, which was probably all they'd need. "Fine," he said.

"Thank you."

The front door to the base opened up and Larsen stepped out. "How'd it go-what is that!?" he snapped as he looked behind Greg to the gigantic Flood they were wrestling out from beneath the Pelican.

"New type, get Coretti and help with it," Greg replied.

Still staring with wide eyes, Larsen nodded a few times, then went back inside. Greg moved to help the others. A moment later, Larsen and Coretti emerged and helped them get the big thing off to the side, where the previous corpses had been held. They secured a tarp over it and then gathered back at the base of the Pelican's cargo ramp.

"Ellis, you're staying here. Yamazaki requests your help. But be ready for casualties. We're going to go rescue another doctor and she's injured."

"Shouldn't I go with you?" Ellis asked uncertainly.

"Yamazaki said he needs your help and Gibson didn't say she was severely injured. We should be able to handle it," he replied.

"Well...all right. Good luck out there." She turned and left, following Yamazaki into the base.

"And because we're losing Ellis and with how freaking dangerous it was out there last time, both of you, Larsen and Coretti, are coming with me. So go gear up, we're doing another rescue op," Greg instructed.

"Yes, Sergeant," they both said, and hurried back into the base.

"What a day," Izzy muttered and walked back onto the Pelican.

"Yep," Greg agreed, following her.

Laney silently followed the both of them.

* * *

"I see the PZ!" Breaker called from the cockpit.

They'd been flying through the air for twenty turbulent minutes. He had almost started to get used to the miserable rattling, though he could tell that Larsen and Coretti were unnerved by it. No doubt they were actually looking forward to combat at this point. Greg pretty much was. He prepared himself for the battle ahead.

"How's it look?!" he asked.

"Nothing moving!"

"Great," Greg muttered. He doubted it'd be that easy. "Set it down close!"

"Yep!"

He felt the Pelican begin to decelerate and descend, the landing gear unfolding beneath them. It was time to save someone else.

Hopefully, anyway.

Greg activated his radio. "This is Sergeant Walker of Task Force Reaper to Doctor Turner, do you read?"

For once, there was a response. "Yes, Sergeant. I hear you. This is Doctor Molly Turner." She was speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Where are you?"

"Landing in a Pelican just outside the communications array. Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'm locked in the basement."

"What's your status?"

"I'm injured, but not seriously. Just a few cuts I've patched up. They're in here with me."

Greg felt his heart skip a beat. "What are they?"

"I'm not sure. Like giant bugs. Quiet and sneaky."

"Crap," he muttered. "I've dealt with them before. I've got a team with me. We're going to come to you and extract you to our Pelican."

"Is it safe to fly?" she asked.

He hesitated. "So far," he replied.

She laughed. "Fair enough. I'll be ready."

"Good. Coming now."

The Pelican set down and Greg disengaged and stood. He walked to the cockpit and glanced out the windows, though he saw that Breaker had turned the ship around so that the rear was facing towards the outpost. He saw a distant snow-capped forest and a big field of ice ahead of them. Nothing but desolation out there.

"Keep the engines hot," he said.

"You know it," Breaker replied.

"Up and ready! We've got those weird bug types inside," he said as he walked back to the cargo ramp and prepared to open it.

"Oh come on, not again," Coretti muttered.

"That big bug thing you brought back?" Larsen asked.

"Yeah, the one I was telling you about," Coretti replied.

"We can handle it," Greg said. "We ready?"

After a string of affirmatives came back, he hit the button. The cargo ramp ground open again, revealing the communications relay. It was pretty similar to the one he'd holed up for the night in with Izzy and Larsen awhile ago. Or, actually, not all that long ago. Damn, he was losing track of time again. Greg scanned the area as he carefully walked down the ramp, battle rifle in hand and ready for action, and didn't see anything.

"Move out. Laney, Larsen, hit the back and see if you can get inside. Coretti, Izzy, with me," Greg said.

Laney and Larsen gave clipped responses and peeled off from the group, swinging around to the right as Greg led the others towards the front entrance. He took everything in with a sweep of his gaze. The iron gray skies overhead. The mountains in the distance. The blanket of snow that seemed to cover everything. The trees here and there. In the distance, to the right, he could see a frozen lake, and was reminded of the collection of alien geese he'd seen bobbing gently in the center of a half-frozen lake outside of the cave he'd spent his first night on Wintermute in. He hoped Polaris had become a place of refuge, and that Becker had settled in well.

He made himself focus as he got to the entrance and shifted carefully inside, clearing the lobby with a sweep of his rifle. There was blood on the floor, some of it frozen, some of it fresh. No bodies, though. Just an overturned desk.

"We're in, got some blood here," Laney reported.

"Same. Be careful and watch your back. The one I saw didn't show itself until we tricked it, but it was alone. I don't know if they'll act different in numbers."

"Affirmative."

Greg led his search party through a door to the right, coming into a simple antechamber that led to a galley with several overturned tables and more blood. He saw a dead Combat Form with its chest blown out and the pulped remains of some Infection Forms splattered about. Someone had fought in here, but the body was frozen over so he imagined it was the original inhabitants. As they finished clearing the galley and kitchen area, finding nothing alive, Greg hesitated before heading to the next doorway.

He felt sure that he was being observed.

As he stood there, still as a statue, for several seconds, the others did so as well. Distantly, he could hear the faint sounds of Laney and Larsen doing their own search, and the occasional gust of wind. But there was something. Something. He simply could not shake that feeling.

"What's wrong?" Izzy asked finally.

"Something's in here with us," he replied.

She began to reply, but her response was cut off as they heard a strangely organic noise. It was slight, but happened during a lull between winds. It carried clearly to them, though he couldn't be sure from where it had come. Greg activated his flashlight and aimed it up, looking around. The ceiling was mostly lost to shadows, as several of the windows had been locked down, and none of the lights were on in the galley.

His light passed across a section of the ceiling that seemed to retain its darkness.

"What..." he muttered, focusing on it.

Abruptly, the darkness shifted, split, became two distinct things.

Two of the insect things.

Stalkers, his mind corrected.

"What the hell!?" Coretti snapped.

"Fire! Fire!" Greg yelled, opening up. Izzy and Coretti immediately joined him, the bullets drilling into the bodies of the Stalkers, which both immediately began shrieking and collapsed to the floor. They hit it hard, blood leaking out of them, writhing as they tried to get to their feet. There was something more aggressive in their movements this time, Greg thought as he fired another burst and split the strangely shaped skull of one of them. Izzy put down the second one and they both quickly reloaded.

"Do you require backup?" Laney asked over the radio.

"No, found two of them. Check the damned ceilings. They were hanging from the ceiling," Greg replied.

"Affirmative."

As he finished reloading, he suddenly heard the sound of a door opening and spun. The way they hadn't gone yet. The door on the far side of the galley had opened and he saw another one of them crawling in. Damn, they were more aggressive this time. As they opened fire once more, the thing halted abruptly and Greg watched in horror as it suddenly began shifting. Its skin started to twist and change and bulge.

It was actually changing shape.

One of the bullets connected with something crucial and abruptly all activity ceased.

"What was it doing?" Izzy whispered harshly.

"I have no idea," Greg muttered, still staring at the strangely misshapen entity. It looked like something out of a horror film, like a set piece some nightmare special effects artists had dreamed up, or something out of a wax museum. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

They moved around and past the corpse and slipped into the hallway beyond, where it had come from. Elsewhere in the base, they heard gunfire as Larsen and Laney ran into more hostiles. They checked the doors they came to: an office, a bathroom, a small storeroom, all empty, thankfully. And finally, the stairwell into the basement.

"Doctor Turner, we're at the entrance to the stairwell, you still good down there?"

"Yes. You seem to be running into trouble up there,"she replied.

"We can handle it. I'm sending one of my people down to check your wounds."

"Understood."

"Izzy, you can patch her up, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I can do it," she replied.

"All right, perfect. We'll finish clearing out the ground floor and then we can pull out. I want to get the hell out of here, this place is starting to freak me out," he muttered.

"Same," she said, and opened the door. A dimly lit stairwell was revealed. She headed down it and Greg waited until she was out of sight and had confirmed contact with Turner before closing the door again. He still had a vision of the other door opening. They could open doors. How? Were they that smart? Was it a freak accident?

This was getting out of control.

"Come on," he said to Larsen, making himself focus. It was a testament to how stressed and freaked out he truly was that he'd let that slip. As they moved through the first floor of the communications tower, hunting for more of the creatures, he couldn't stop thinking about the Stalker that had begun to...

To what?

He couldn't shake the conviction that he had been witnessing the beginning of something terrible, something horrifying. What else were the Flood capable of? What fresh horrors awaited them in the future? They met back up with Laney and Larsen not much later and finished their sweep of the ground floor.

"Izzy, we're clear. How are you?"

"Good to go. Her wounds aren't serious. She's ready to move," Izzy replied.

"On the way back to the basement entrance. Meet me there."

"On it."

He couldn't help but feel his tension ratchet up another notch as he led the others back through the derelict structure. Signs of combat surrounded him, bullet holes and frozen blood tattooed the walls, spent shell casings and bits of Flood bodies littered the floor, and he kept thinking he saw the phantom movements of more Stalkers. He kept expecting fresh attacks even though they'd cleared out the ground floor and had made sure the only way upstairs was locked down tight, but they managed to get back to the door without incident.

Izzy and Doctor Turner appeared. He finally had a face to connect to the voice. Molly Turner was a grim-faced, middle-aged woman with pale skin and a thin build. She wore basic gray civilian cold weather gear that was ripped and bloodied in several places, and several wisps of silver-blonde hair peeked out from beneath a gray beanie she wore.

"Good to go?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied flatly.

"Okay. Stay close, we'll get you back to the Pelican."

She simply nodded and they set off. The group quickly retraced the route that he had initially taken into the installation. Greg could hear his heart pumping, his pulse in his ears, could feel tension beginning to sing through his body. He wasn't sure what it was about the Stalkers that freaked him out so much more than the rest of the rotting, decaying monstrosities. Maybe it was the fact that they, well, stalked. The other Flood didn't seem to bother with hiding. They just came at you, screaming wildly. Greg began to feel something like relief when they came back to the initial entryway and found nothing waiting for them.

"Uh, Sergeant. We've got a problem out here," Breaker said.

Greg tensed, activating his radio. "What is it?"

"There's some big, mean-looking flying things circling around. About half a dozen of them. They're above the Pelican. Like they're waiting."

"Dammit," he muttered. He looked at Izzy. "Volar."

"Aw great," she muttered.

"Coretti, Larsen, stay in here and make sure nothing happens to Turner. Izzy, Laney, with me. We've got half a dozen flying jerks up above. I've tangled with them before and they're vicious. We need to take them down."

"Understood," Laney replied.

Greg stepped up to the front entrance. Already he could see shadows being printed on the snow from up above. He peered cautiously skywards, sticking his head out the door, and saw that Breaker was right. He counted six of the things. Damn they were big. Something seemed...different about them, though. But he couldn't sure, not at this distance. Were

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