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It Gets Worse

So, no shit, there I was—on the deck of a strange spaceship going at a stupidly fast speed. The weapon banks were dead, half the decks had been vented into the void, and the power fluctuated in a manner suggesting life support failure and that I had, at most, another twenty minutes of breathable oxygen left before I faced a rather CO2-laced death. The captain was dead, having choked to death on a shard of the center console that pierced her throat, and I had a gun pressed against my temple.
Oh, and the ship was on fire. But I wasn’t dead yet. I had that going for me.
“Pilot.”
He was a male of a species I didn’t know. I learned more than enough about him in time, but I wasn’t quite sure about anything at that point. Anyway, the important part is this: He had a gun against my head. I was piloting the freighter toward the fourth planet in the system. That was the only place that pinged as having any sort of breathable atmosphere as far as the charts could register. Of course, re-entry into any atmosphere with this unshielded freighter, eloquently called “The Flying Brick,” would take an egg-thieves own luck and skill.
So yes. A ship on fire, a gun to my head. I hate pirates. They make it difficult to be an honest privateer these days.
There were two of them and only one of me. I would probably end up dead at the end of this little excursion, but we all know that isn’t what was going to happen. Obviously I didn’t know it at the time. But I digress.
“Pilot.” He says. “Take us to the nearest world and set us down.”
“Frak this! Frak that! Oh, and Frak you! We have twenty minutes of atmosphere, the engines are faulty, and I don’t think we can make it to orbital landing without disintegrating into atmosphere, you crazy shit! This is suicide! We should get to an escape-pod! I’m a damn trainee! I haven’t landed in atmosphere before!”
Okay, I wasn’t a trainee, but he didn’t know that.
“You stole the ship. You’ll land it somewhere anyway.”
Of course, he had a gun, so his argument was persuasive. I’d figure out a way to land it as long as it meant I didn’t get any more gun applied to my face.
The world was called Saviolo. Warm, beautiful, and only a moderate size; the planet had wonderful shimmer to the atmosphere which gave everything a faint golden glow. Atmosphere-wise, it was a near Class Three, with such a beautiful blend of gasses, almost any species could live on it with only the barest of restriction. The gravity was low, making it a Class Five, easily survivable with only mild strain involved. Finally, without any megafauna and only a few skittish predators, the world classed at an easy Class Four average.
Despite being a rather pleasant world, Saviolo registers as a Class Ten.
It’s not the atmosphere, or the biological contaminants, gravity, or chemicals present on the world that makes it thus. No, what truly brings out the dangerous feel was an extremely overactive flora problem. The plants grew thick, the plants grew numerous, and the plants grew fast. This wouldn’t ordinarily be an issue, as high speed growth is a benefit to some crops. Nope, the flora on Saviolo had a tendency to eat people, so quite naturally they put a maximum security prison on the world and called it a day.
A day we would end up ruining when we slammed into the planet.
Life can be interesting, sometimes. I’ve experienced a wide array of adventures in my time as a privateer. I’ve wrestled with a pirate crew over assaulting a medical ship and food transport. I’ve gotten myself into dangerous explorations of war-ruins and dealt with still-functioning automated defense machinery. I’ve even had the pleasure of a psychic conjunction with a Thrizzka Hivemind! But of all those things, I can say they pale in comparison to slamming into a planet at very high speeds, in a ship lacking functional atmospheric shielding, and with only maneuvering jets for control
Really, it’s like sex. Fast, hard, and sometimes very awkward.
I woke up feeling like I’d slept with a Cotwel matron. Well, maybe not woke up—I snapped awake and let out a surprised screaming yelp as I found a sharp-edged spike of plasteel but centimeters from my left eye. I jerked my head back and realized I was hanging upside down by three straps which engaged when I hit atmosphere. Two of the straps held my torso and abdomen, while a third connected up between my legs and over my torso, making me wince as I’d managed to compress my testicles into a very painful squeeze. Of course, I had other issues, but I suppose being able to complain was a luxury.
The ship had flipped upside down. I’m sure I’d done that, as I still had one claw clenched tightly around a control console. Of course, my other arm was hanging loose and had several thick shards of plastic sticking through it. Grimacing in pain, I looked about for a release to the straps and then dropped two meters with a painful crack. Gasping, I sorted myself out, and slowly pulled myself up to my feet with an agonized grunt. I massaged my groin and winced again. For not the first time, I was thankful one of my ancestors decided to include “natural painkillers” in the genetic makeup.
I stood and straightened my back out with another little wince. Standing and stretching, I worked out the few other aches and pains I had. I rubbed my temple and felt along my beak, then sorted through the feathers along my face. My jewelry chains were loose and out of sorts, much to my chagrin. Straightening them up, I sorted my way through the ruined bridge of the ship.
When the pain faded I took stock of my surroundings, which was hard to do with so little of the ship lit at that point. I popped my flashlight—and I want you to make sure that whenever you go out into your career in the wild black void, you always have a body-heat powered flashlight. That will save you more than you know. I swept the room, saw that there was a few open doors I could try and pry my way through with a piece of scenery, and found the gun, which had previously been held at my temple, discarded on the floor. I grabbed it, checked the safety and power pack, and slid it into the shrift of my trainer’s robe. My wings itched at the thought of having to use a gun in close quarters.
Breathing. I heard a groan from my rear, and turned, bringing my gun out and checking the site towards the skull of the large biped that held me at gunpoint before. I looked down, thumbing the safety off, and considered my options. The figure in front of me shifted with another grunt, his face and body torn and bruised with the effects of my talon work and the violent crash. For a moment I felt a gut-churning satisfaction about the blood staining his body and dripping from my talons. Another part of me—no, the better part of me—was sickened at the ease which I had fallen into that mindset. Then I remembered our fight, and his gift of a broken arm; this one was exceptionally dangerous, and no small amount of luck netted me victory here. I should protect myself. I shook my head. I squeezed down on the trigger, ready to put this beast down.
No. No, I was not a murderer. I was not an egg-filching murderer. A ship thief, sure, a mugger on occasion, but I called it at killing. With a pained sigh, and a painful burning ache in my bad arm, I lowered my gun and returned the safety to on, and hid it within my robe sleeve again. Bending down, I lifted his head and looked into his face. His breathing was regular and pained, while his large eyes were quite out of focus. He looked up at me, blearily, and his mouth opened and closed, as though speaking were too great an effort for him. I should have tried to get away, but I didn’t like the stains of red on his shirt. Leaving him would have meant he would bleed out. I was not a murderer, even by ignorance.
I let go of lummox’s head and it fell back with a loud thunk. Murderer? no. But the bastard broke my arm. I didn’t owe it to him to be nice about things. I made my way towards the wreckage at the front of the ship and hunted for the emergency treatment kit that was standard issue. I found it, and returned, and set to treating his injuries. I cursed myself for it. Chest, throat, belly, arms, and one right over his right eye—he was a mess, and that didn’t even include the bruises from the crash.
My broken limb hurt fiercely as I treated him.
I opened one of the kit’s red biogel tubes. Red for Carbon-based life. It’s the meat, you know—red meat? So I spent a good fifteen minutes pouring the bright green goop (why is it green?) down onto the alien in front of me—smearing it over his injuries, making sure he wouldn’t bleed to death. He was awake, just barely, watching me intently, and he held still while I tended to him.
He wasn’t bleeding nearly as profusely as I’d have guessed, more the wounds oozed instead of gushed. Fast clotting factor? He must come from a dangerous world, indeed. Lucky for him, and for me later. The goop burned to touch directly but I could ignore it, and he had it worse than I did by far. Not that I felt much sympathy. He moaned and grunted—the antiseptic part of the biogel burns like fire on an open wound, you understand. I then stepped back, waiting for him to pass out from the pain.
But instead he lifted his head up, one eye swollen shut, and grunted a “thank you” before stirring and sitting up. I felt a chill in my gut as he grew more aware of his surroundings. His pain tolerance was massive. Mine’s still better, I thought arrogantly.
Another sound caught my attention as the big brute sat up while trying to gather his wits. Another crewmember, an Elurian. She had been with the gunsman when they barged into the flight deck. During the attack she had at least been smart enough to settle into a crash couch, while the big guy was distracted with the gun he was pushing into my face. I treated her injuries. Though none were as severe as mine, she still had a nasty looking bruise swelling across the left of her face. She seemed lethargic, however. Worrying, yet I didn’t know why.
One of the Elurian’s horns, a small one at the forward brow, had a crack in it. That would be painful to heal. I finished treating her injuries with the last of that medical gel. Only one tube left for all three of us, so we would need to be careful, especially since the Elurians were fragile beings, and coming from me, that’s saying something. I finished with the kit and stood up while pocketing the laser suture kit. It might come in handy.
“So. Two broken xenos, a dead ship, and a hostile world. Probably a prison colony,” I remarked, while looking up at the tall and dusky-pink alien. He had thick, shaggy hair over his head and forward-facing dullard’s eyes that told me, while not being a mental juggernaut, he was a very capable predator. His face was rather unpleasantly mobile and I had a distinctly queasy feeling in my gut for looking at it. He towered over me by a full twenty centimeters. “Reputation says there will be no rescue. So we will have to get our way…”
“We?” He growled. His voice was rich with a lustre of baritone, and his brow furrowed into a scowl. I think it was a scowl. “Who says we, Lil’ birdy?”
“I do,” I replied. “Because this ship dumped the reactor, and I don’t want to have mutations when I get back home. Now do you have any further questions, or are we going to try and get somewhere less glow-in-the-dark?”
He tilted his head, “Reactors don’t glow in the dark, nor does Ozium—”
“It’s a metaphor,” I interrupted. “A play on perceptions about the strange properties of early radioactive isotopes used by standard morphologies. It’s not a literal interpretation. The point is, that I’m trying to make, is that this place is going to get hotter before it cools off, and I don’t particularly think gamma-ray radiation is exactly ‘in’ this diurnal season.”
“Okay. Don’ have to be a jackass ‘bout it.” The brute grumbled, and I let out a sigh. I should have shot him. It would have saved me many headaches then, now, and in the future.
“Now we have to get through three decks and then the hull, climb down three hundred meters, and hope we can do this before we cough up our lungs. Any questions?”
“Yeah. If I hit you, would it kill you or just hurt a lot?”
It was a long climb through the ship.
Andy. His name was Andy. He was human, from a world called Terra. The name didn’t mean anything to me, but his stocky body and the heavy, plodding way he moved suggested he was a heavy-worlder with an extra side of gravity on his plate. He moved slow but steady, carrying the weak and exhausted Elurian over one broad shoulder. I picked my way through the ship until I came to a rather large breach in the hull, which let me get a look out the side of the ship.
The metal, though still glowing hot, could be moved over if one didn’t mind minor burns. Given I didn’t have a choice, I grabbed the hot metal, wincing in pain, and wedged it out of the way. I wondered if the local bacteria on planet would find me edible if the burns got infected. Out of the corner of my eye I noted Andy nodding, his face contorted into some unreadable expression. It was one of respect and approval, I learned later.
“It’s a sixty meter drop.” I said with a rough mental calculation of distance, wind speed, and gravitational pull. It was a little more than I cared for, but I suppose it’d have to do. I looked at the two, then down at the jungle below, and gave another sigh. “Don’t suppose you can fly?”
“Nope.” He said. Slowly, I turned my head up to look at him as he looked out over the distance, then towards a rather thick tree nearby. His eyes narrowed as he looked for himself, then whistled to himself in a rather irritating pitch. “I could make that.”
“Jumping?” I asked, reappraising him with a clear nod. He rolled his shoulders and hopped up to the tips of his flat feet, then looked at me.
“Sure. It’s only five meters.”
“Six. And the branch doesn’t look conductive to climbing.” I said, giving it a look myself. “And she can’t jump that far.”
“Who says she’s jumping?” He lifted her back up onto his broad shoulders and gave me a flash of his teeth. And then he stepped back, did a very long stretch, then ran for the breech and jumped.
So, not only had I privateered the ship, the ship had its own registered madman. I watched him land against the branch, his torso taking the impact, one arm wrapped around a rather sturdy branch, the other around his shipmate. He squeezed tight and held on even as the branch threatened to crack beneath his weight.
I sighed. This was going to be a long trek to civilization. Without further thought, I stepped out of the breech and spread my wings.
The Jungle.
I wet the edge of my beak with my tongue and adjusted the talon sheaths across the back of my fingers. Water enjoyed accumulating along any and every metallic surface—or so I had observed—and that did little to improve my mood. My Vi-Sec head-visor was damp and a mold had tried to grow on it already. I hated this planet from the start.
Of course, the big lummox of a xeno was enjoying himself as he tromped through the jungle, sometimes carrying the third alien. Earlier, I had slid a vitals tracker into the collar of her jacket. Her rhythms seemed normal and steady—and though I knew almost nothing about mammalian biology, I knew steady was good. The lummox—taller than me by twenty centimeters and wider than me by at least thirty—moved with a predatory efficiency that I found familiar. I kept the firearm close, and him a good distance away. I knew the odds were not in my favor in a confrontation.
The walk was hot and my body was uncomfortably damp. The sun shone brightly through patchy coverage of the over branching canopy, and I was already getting sore from hopping over downed branches that stood thick with rot and growing lichens. My clothing was scuffed and my jewelery would need a good pressure washing when I returned to a proper habitat.
Andy was seemingly unbothered, smiling and whistling that horrible sound of his.
We walked. We traversed. We made tracks through the jungle atmosphere, with the moisture and the warmth making me itch and feel like molting.
“How do you know where you are going? We could be getting even more fucked than we already are.” Andy walked with a large branch, using it as a support when needed, the third xeno taking turns walking or being carried. She was incredibly weak and I didn’t know if it was from the crash or otherwise. Andy seemed worried about her, offering to carry but she frequently refused. I followed behind him, ten paces free, and observed the canopy and beams of sunlight overhead.
“This planet has a west to east rotation. The magnetosphere is standard north and south, ergo, we are traveling north-east at the moment. Roughly two hundred kilometers north I saw signs of a settlement: a river, clearing, and crude huts. The design is primitive, but used advanced design forms for stability.” I said, before ducking under a vine that whipped for my face and throat. I shot it. It withered quickly.
“Uh-huh.” He said, looking at the vine, then up at one that descended for him. He reached up and gave a sharp yank, ripping it in twain, splattering himself with sticky sap. The others reached for him, and each received their own grisly dismembering. The rest of the vines recoiled shortly thereafter.
Strong, dumb, but very effective.
“And you know this how?”
“I was observing the monitors as we crashed.” I lifted a vine and tested its durability with a pinch—it could be used as a crude rope or binding if needed. I hefted a vine over my shoulder and continued on. “Our impact point is roughly two hundred kilometers south of the village.”
“Right. And you have a map?”
“No.” I replied, while we stopped a moment at a great river flowing north. The sound was refreshing. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about going thirsty any time soon. I tossed the water canteen and the lummox caught it and drank it dry. He tossed it back and sat down on a fallen branch, which creaked under his weight. He checked her again for injuries while I made my way to the water and dipped the canteen.
“Should sterilize that.” He said, voice a thick rumble of noise. “Don’t want a, y’know, infection. And how do you know you are going the right way?”
Ah, microorganisms. A problem with planetside living. I looked at the canteen and groaned to myself, then turned to gather some wood. The canteen could handle heating and boiling—they were built to handle pressure changes and exposure to the void, so a little heat wouldn’t melt it.
“Good idea. And I can feel the magnetosphere in my head. We are going north. We have traveled fifteen kilometers. The village should be north if we maintain a steady pace. Perhaps it will take a full ten day, or even two ten day periods. But, we can maintain it if we put our minds to it.”
“What’s your name, birdy?”
I looked at the canteen, then up at Andy.
“My name is…” I considered this for a moment, and studied his facial features. His voice seemed to be formed mostly in his mouth. I doubted he could pronounce my name correctly. “My name means ‘Wings stretched out before the day, laughing in the delight of the Sun.’ But, I propose that you can call me Sunwing.”
“Sunwing.” He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought, then focused his eyes on me. “Fair enough.”
“I want to apologize.” I said, tossing the canteen towards his feet. He lifted it and waited for it to cool, though he dabbed a cloth and laid it on the lips of the smaller female. He was quite tender with her, clearly affectionate. More than just a mere crewmate, I supposed. I gave a mild mental shrug. Live and learn. “I did not intend for anyone to be on the ship when I took possession of it. Please understand I am very apologetic for having to injure you, and to injure your mate.”
“Mate? Nah. She ain’t my mate!” He laughed and his face brightened up rather wonderfully. But then he paused, thinking, a mask of anger clouding his features. A predator gazed out at me. My bowels went cold, so obvious and deadly was his intent. It was a moment faster than most anyone could see, a moment that left me short of breath. Slowly, menacingly, he leaned forward and tensed.
We stared at each other, my black eyes against the intense blues of his own. Suddenly his hand snapped out, almost too fast to spot, and he grabbed me by my throat. He effortlessly lifted me from the vine covered dirt. “But she’s a very good friend, and if you so much as look at her wrong I’ll break every Goddamn bone in your feathery little body. Do ya’ get that?”
I grabbed for my gun but he caught my wrist and jerked in a move that nearly dislocated my shoulder. His was a crushing grip like banded iron and it choked me, threatening to snap my neck and grind my wrist to dust. I couldn’t breathe at all. We shared a look as I gave a slow clack of my beak in anticipation. He was snarling, and I needed no translator to understand his murder-happy intent. My tongue was swelling. He held me, restraining me, and strangled me. Any tighter and my trachea would break, and that would be really unpleasant.
So, I stabbed him.
My talons stuck deep into his chest and I twisted, raking bone and digging deep with the tips of my claws. I dug in and squeezed, and his face twisted in rage and pain. His arm jerked and he flung me away violently, and but for my natural sense of balance I’d have hit the ground very hard. I landed, my toes digging ruts in the ground, and drew my pistol towards him. "Careful, birdy." I paused, keeping the pistol leveled toward the ground. He was already armed with his own—a holdout, it seemed. He held the gun leveled at my torso, his other hand clutching his chest and his face carefully neutral. Good control, that.
I coughed, which turned into a painful, wheezing laugh as I held my bad hand to my throat. The big lummox had really done a number on me. I spat, then looked up at him again with a defiant flit of my crest. My blood was up, oh yes. So was his. But this situation needed to calm down if I was going to survive.
“So.” I said, my fingers twitching on my pistol. “You shoot me, and you have no idea where you are going unless you have a map. I shoot you, and I end up eaten by a vine or two. We shoot each other, we both bleed out and your boyfriend dies. Or, we put our guns away, agree to hate each other, and avoid killing each other until we can get to a less ‘everything wants to eat us’ situation. Then we murder each other like civilized people. Hm?”
He pondered. A moment passed. Two. Three. And then like that, his gun dipped, just slightly. Good enough for me. We both holstered our weapons and stared at each other a moment, and then he laughed, deep and full-bodied, though he winced in pain.
He was hurting, that much I could easily see. I didn’t care. I did care that my neck would hurt for the next conceivable hatching season, probably more. But I needed him halfway functional and my ancestors would be angry if I simply let him bleed out. So I fetched the remaining biogel from my small supply pack. He was wary, of course, but I kept my hands in the open, and he seemed as if he wanted to trust me. He was an idiot to do that, of course, but now was not the time for a con. He removed his ruined shirt and I applied the gel, again wincing at the pain in my burned fingers. He grimaced as I applied the gel but said nothing. Considering the wound, the pain he was experiencing must be impressive indeed. But on this pink tree-climber, it seemed, the gel worked incredibly efficiently. We both marveled as the gel near-instantly sealed the wound and went to work.
“Huh. Just like superglue.”
“What?” My crest dropped at the strange linguistic structure of the word.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his shaggy head. I took a moment to inspect the big lunk before me. His frame was absolutely massive and bulging everywhere with impressively hard muscle, and his arm span was probably twice as wide as mine. My wings could match—if barely—but I lacked the overall reach that he had with his hands. His torso was covered in dried blood and scabbed over wounds, but there was little else to indicate I had nearly disemboweled him. It’s a good thing he was so thickly muscled or I would have killed him outright. Even accidentally, that is unforgivable. And yet the scabs looked as if they were ready to fall off, their job almost complete. The gel did its job quickly and, it seemed, hyper-efficiently.
I wonder if the gel works this way on all humans.
The pain must have faded, because he sighed and his face relaxed. “Alright. Thank you again.” He looked at me with his quizzical expression, “We understand each other?”
“Yeah. I think I have it. We get somewhere civilized, then kill each other.”
“Heh. We’ll see ‘bout that.” He showed me his teeth, I presume it was an amused expression, then looked puzzled. “Wait, what? Boyfriend?”
“Yes. That’s an Elurian male.” I pointed out. “Note the small, black horns.”
“No. Her. She’s got, you know, tits and a, uh, hole.” He replied. I blinked slowly and held a hand to my beak. I tried in vain to keep my crest from arching fully. Oh this was just too funny!
“No. No no. Elurians…” I thought about it. “You know, I think your, uh, partner should explain it. I mean, I had that issue once myself. Let’s not worry about it. We have a long few weeks ahead of us, and we still have a bit to go to be clear of the radiation.”
He shrugged, “True. Uh. So uh…” He scratched the stubble growing on his chin. Facial fur was an odd feature, no matter what species. “What are you? Boy? Girl? Other?”
“Too much for you to handle.” I said. I dusted my tailfeathers off with a hand and gestured. “Shall we go for a few more hours? I think we can find a large enough deadfall to make a shelter, if you don’t mind sharing it. Jungles don’t get cold, but they do have predators.”
“Heh. They ain’t met me.”
No. No they hadn’t.
So yes, this is another chapter of TylerSec, done as a collaboration with DreamingKroot. This chapter is almost entirely his work. He insisted I post this segment of the story, but please leave comments and such for him!
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submitted by ctwelve to HFY

PSA: Planetside 1 will be going F2P next month.

Everyone who started playing with PS2 might want to check out where it all started. There is no cash shop, and IMO is the better game.
Edit: Alright, frizbee2 suggested we could get some vets together and start a training program for newbies. Message me if you want to be a trainer, or want to sign up for training. I'm thinking 100 person limit?
Edit 2: Please send applications in this format
Ingame Name
TraineTrainee
Type of Training (Basic, Commanding, infiltraiting, etc)
Times you will be available
Faction
Outfit
1COG members, please sign up here so I can put you down for outfit benefits.
submitted by Superpan2256 to Planetside

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