Purple Heart

"You may be right," the alien replied. "The stronger smell seems to outline a path. Towards what, I cannot say."

They must have traveled a good thousand meters before they reached another fork in the passageway, three more tunnels branching off in random directions.

"L.T, this is FUBAR. We're gonna get lost," someone shouted from the back of the formation, and his complaint was met with a chorus of affirmations and curses. Moralez turned, squinting through the flashlight beams.

"Listen, I don't want to be here any more than you do, but these orders come straight from the Admiral. If you have a problem with those orders, then you can take it up with him when he court-martials you for desertion." That shut most of them up, and he turned back to Zuga who had his nose to the earth like a bloodhound, crouching in the tunnel and sifting the dirt between his fingers. "Zuga, report."

"I...don't understand what I smell. The path up to here was clear, but now the smells change, they are...more subtle. Perhaps as you say, these are pheromone trails, and I cannot interpret the information that they convey. It is as if the directions are written in the smell, but I cannot read the language."

"Well that's just great," Moralez muttered under his breath, trying to figure out their next course of action. What the fuck were they supposed to do now? The logical course of action was to split up, but if they did that, how would they ever find each other again? If they split into three teams then there would be enough Borealans for each team to have at least three, and perhaps they could smell their way back out, but it was risky. Fuck it, this whole operation was risky.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," he announced. The grumbling of the Marines subsided as they waited for his instructions. "We'll split up into three groups, each group gets three Borealans. Zuga, you're with me. Gutierrez, Briggs, you're in charge of your teams. If nobody finds anything, we meet back at this junction in two hours. If one of the groups finds something and doesn't come back, the other two groups take their tunnel and go find them."

"Ain't you never seen Scooby Doo, L.T?" someone near the back shouted. There was a chorus of laughter.

"Enough lip, let's get it done."

The group of humans and Borealans split into three teams, and each proceeded down one of the tunnels. Moralez checked his helmet comms, but they were blocked by the dirt that surrounded them, they wouldn't penetrate the walls. Even if they did, who knew how long that would have lasted as the tunnels wound and snaked away from each other into the depths of the planet.

***

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and as Moralez checked the digital watch on the screen that was mounted to his wrist, he realized they had been walking for forty minutes. They would need to turn back pretty soon in order to return to the junction on time. He shook his head, frustrated.

"What the hell is this, Zuga? We've seen no Bugs, no vehicles, no storage areas. None of these tunnels even seem to go anywhere. Just what are they doing down here?"

"I cannot guess, but I do know that we cannot return with no information. We must find something, anything."

He stopped abruptly, and Moralez almost walked into him, the handful of Marines that were following behind him bumping into one another. Zuga was looking down, and Moralez edged around him to follow his gaze. There was a hole in the middle of the passage, the same circumference as the tunnel, angled directly down. Moralez leaned over the side and shone his flashlight into the opening, it looked like some kind of well, he couldn't see a curve or a bottom.

"Well, this is different..."

"Do we go down?" Zuga asked hesitantly, his three Borealan packmates exchanging worried glances.

"How? We don't have climbing gear, I can't even see a bottom."

"A Borealan could make it, we could climb using our claws."

Moralez thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"This is too risky, we need to turn back and meet up with the other teams. Maybe they've found something of more use to us than a hole in the ground."

When they eventually arrived back at the junction, one team was waiting for them, and one was not. Briggs greeted Moralez, a worried expression on his face as his companions milled about nearby. The three Borealans who had accompanied him quickly returned to their Alpha's side, as dutiful as ever.

"You guys are a little late, I was starting to get worried, Briggs muttered. "You find anything?"

"Nah," Moralez shook his head. "Where's Gutierrez?"

Briggs looked down the center tunnel, concern furrowing his brow. Moralez sighed, popping off his helmet for a moment and running his fingers through his dark hair.

"Give 'em fifteen more minutes. If they're not back by then, we go after them."

***

The quarter hour passed with no sign of the third team, and so the remaining troops grouped up, with the seven Borealans leading the way. As they advanced, the passage became steadily steeper, angling downwards until the humans had to dig their heels into the soil to avoid slipping. The going was slow, and it was at least five hundred meters before the floor of the tunnel leveled out again. The surface of Kruger III was wet and windy, like a cold, rainy day on some godforsaken Scottish island. But as they made progress deeper below the ground, it was becoming warmer, and uncomfortably humid.

"Wait..." Zuga raised his balled fist, indicating for them to stop. The Marines raised their weapons, taking a battle stance as Moralez inched forward to stand beside the Borealan.

"What is it?"

"I smell blood, yours and ours," he whispered.

Moralez signaled to the troops to be cautious, and they advanced slowly, their XMRs trained on the tunnel that curved out of view before them. As they rounded the corner, a battle scene came into view. Moralez had to cover his mouth with his hand to save from gagging at the grisly sight. Half a dozen humans and one Borealan had been completely eviscerated. Their limbs and viscera were scattered around the tunnel, splashes of blood drying on the walls and ceiling. It was impossible to tell what parts belonged to which body.

"What the fuck did this?" Moralez wondered aloud. "Some kind of mining machine? I've seen people killed by Bugs, they don't break people apart like that."

"What the fuck, L.T?" One of the privates was freaking out, staring wide-eyed at the mangled bodies.

"Keep it together," Moralez barked, "we'll figure this out."

Zuga walked over to the dead Borealan, crouching beside it to examine the wounds more closely.

"Whatever did this must be a machine of some kind, I have never seen wounds like this. It takes a lot to kill Borealans without destroying the vital organs."

Moralez shook his head, a sick feeling rising in his gut.

"This can't have happened long ago, and where's the rest of their team? Stay alert, we move on."

There was no point checking for vitals, these soldiers were clearly beyond help. Medicine in the 2600s could do wonders, but bringing the dead back to life was not one of them. They stepped over the corpses, careful to avoid the still wet innards that had been spilled on the tunnel floor. Having every man walk over the bodies of his comrades wasn't good for morale, not in the slightest, but there was only one way forward. He heard the splatter of vomit behind him as one of the privates was overcome by the scene and doubled over.

This tunnel was winding, unlike the others which had been mostly straight, and every turn was a nerve-wracking blind spot behind which unnamed horrors could be lurking just out of view. The slant was still noticeably downhill, drawing them ever deeper into the bowels of Kruger III.

"The smell is strong here, Bugs passed through recently," Zuga commented as he sniffed the air with his pink nose.

Odd, had the gruesome spectacle they had just passed actually been a victory? Had the Bugs been driven back and pursued down the tunnel? If only the damned helmet radios worked down here, they might have been able to come to their aid sooner. They followed the tunnel for what must have been almost a mile. The odd smell was even apparent to the humans now, and the heat was starting to get to them. They couldn't be deep enough inside the planet to be warmed by magma, that would be absurd, it must be the Bugs' doing. Moralez remembered what he had been taught in school about ant colonies, how the tiny insects could build ventilation shafts in order to cool or warm areas of the hive as they wished, bringing in moisture and fresh air below the surface. Was that what this was? A Betelgeusian colony? The thought made him anxious, and he thought it best to keep it to himself.

"How long are we gonna keep looking for them L.T? We're gonna get fucking lost!"

More complaints from within the column of troops. They were becoming agitated, afraid, and perhaps they were right to be. Moralez was increasingly aware that he had no plan, he didn't really know what he was doing. He had thought that he could rely on the Borealans to take on anything that they encountered in these narrow passages, but seeing that dead Borealan had rattled him. The only ways in which he had seen a Mad Cat die before today was being totally obliterated by anti-vehicle weaponry or an extremely well-placed vital shot.

"Shut the fuck up, Smith," Briggs scolded. "If that was you down there, you'd want us to come after you, so suck it up. We're not leaving anyone down here."

"What if they took them?" another private asked, a tremor in his voice. "It doesn't add up, why are half of them missing?"

This was becoming dangerous, some of the less experienced Marines might desert if he didn't rally them. He turned, illuminated by their flashlight beams.

"Listen up, we have two jobs to do here!" His commanding voice echoed through the tunnel, and the soldiers fixed their opaque visors on him. Despite their current situation, he had led them straight before today, and the men respected him. They had been through a lot together on Kruger, and that shared experience counted more than any rank or badge. "We have to find out what the fuck this is, then we have to bring our men back. I don't care what the odds are, I'm not leaving a single one of you down here to rot. If you're gonna die, it's gonna be on your feet with your friends at your side, not alone in these tunnels. When we've cleared this shithole out, we're going to send teams back down here to recover those bodies and send them home. Is that clear?"

There was a chorus of affirmations, some more enthusiastic than others, but peer pressure was a wonderful tool. The detractors would stay in line as long as they faced the ire of their comrades. He waved them forward, and the column moved along.

The Borealans had remained silent throughout all of this, their loyalty was unwavering. It was kind of creepy, they didn't seem to care that one of their own had been butchered, they just marched on without a complaint.

His thought was interrupted by Zuga motioning for them to stop as they came to a blind corner. Moralez gave the hand signal for his men to take a knee and crept forward to stand beside the alien.

"What is it, Zuga?" he whispered.

"Something new, I don't know the smell. Advance with caution."

The Borealans crouched low and moved forward slowly, Moralez following after them, switching off his light and using his infrared scope to peek around the passage wall. Through the red-tinted sight, he saw a warm blob a short distance down the tunnel. He couldn't make out details, but whatever it was, it wasn't shaped like a Betelgeusian. Some local wildlife that had found its way into the underground network perhaps? He glanced at Zuga, who was wrinkling his feline nose.

"What is it, Zuga?" he asked. "What do you smell?"

"Bugs and...death," Zuga replied ominously.

"Take up firing positions, I'm gonna get a light on that thing."

They bunched up, aiming their long rifles down the passage in the pitch darkness. Moralez stood behind them, ready to turn on his flashlight attachment and illuminate whatever it was.

"On my mark. Three, two, one..."

He flicked the switch, casting a beam of white light down the tunnel.

The thing was big, and it was hunched over, its four arms moving out of sight as its round body cast a shadow on the walls. It looked like a Bug, its blue-green, shiny carapace reflecting in the light with a jewel-like sheen. Decorative horns protruded from what must have been its head, rising into view over its back. It chittered softly, then rose from its stooped position and turned to face them.

It was fucking huge! As tall as a Borealan but wider and heavier, its green eyes glowing at them through the darkness and its serrated mandibles flexing. As it turned to face them, Moralez saw what it was eating. It dropped the partially dissected body of a human soldier, just a torso and an arm, which fell heavily to the ground with the limp slap of dead flesh. The damned thing was almost as wide as the tunnel. This was why they had built them with such a large circumference, so that these things might pass through them. It took a step forward on massive, armored legs that were as thick as tree trunks, shaking the ground beneath their feet. It extended its four arms, snapping giant lobster claws that were stained with drying, crimson blood.

"Fire! Fire!"

The Borealans opened up, their massive, long-barreled XMRs deafening in the confines of the passageway. The kick rammed the weapons into their shoulders with a force that would shatter human bone. The tungsten slugs slammed into the thing, penetrating its shiny shell with spurts of orange ichor, but it didn't slow the beast. On the contrary, it accelerated, charging down the tunnel towards them. It was built like a goddamned cargo lifter, and those Borealan rifles were the most powerful weapons they had at their disposal. If those hadn't felled it, what would?

The Borealans changed their stance, raising their bayonets in order to skewer the thing, and Moralez rushed back around the corner into the column of troops to get out of the way of the melee that would surely ensue. Most of them hadn't gotten a look at the thing yet, but they had heard the gunfire.

The Borealans drove their bayonets into the advancing beast like medieval pikes as it came into view of the column, the vicious blades sinking deep into its meat, but still it did not fall. It slammed into the line with the force of a charging rhino, knocking the massive aliens aside like bowling pins. It drove straight through them, picking one of them up in its four claws along the way and crushing him against the wall behind them. They heard the crunch of breaking bone and the crack of what might have been the clear resin shattering. The wall held, it was remarkably well enforced, and the yowling of a Borealan in pain flooded the tunnel.

The members of Lambda who were still standing jabbed at the monster with their bayonets, trying to free their comrade as the creature pinned him against the wall, laying into him with its mandibles and claws. It was futile, even their long blades would not penetrate deep enough to do any serious damage. By God, it was dissecting him alive. Moralez engaged the combat audio filter in his helmet, trying to block out the screams as the thing disemboweled the Borealan with the mechanical efficiency of a compassionless insect.

The Marines didn't know what to do, and Moralez had no orders for them. They couldn't engage that thing in melee, and they couldn't fire on it without tearing Lambda apart in the process.

"Zuga, pull your pack back! We need to concentrate fire on that fucking thing! Zuga!"

The alien was in a fugue, hacking desperately at the monster, hackles raised as he tried to free his subordinate. The trapped auxiliary was still struggling against his assailant as its mandibles carved up his...

Moralez looked away, even for a career soldier this was intolerable. Zuga wasn't listening to him, and if Moralez didn't pull his men back, they would run of their own volition. Borealans had a reputation as being invincible and seeing one carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey wouldn't do their morale any good. Should he tell them to ready grenades? That might take it down, but in this confined space it would kill them along with their enemy. On top of that, the tunnel could cave in, trapping them down here.

"Pull back, pull back! Form a staggered firing line and don't shoot until I give the order!"

The tunnel was just wide enough for a handful of Marines to stand shoulder to shoulder, and one line kneeled while the other aimed over their heads, readying their XMRs. They didn't have a clear shot. If the Borealans didn't follow his orders and move out of the way, then he would have no other choice but to order the men to fire through them.

A chill flooded Moralez's veins, the familiar, calm resignation of combat. He gave one last order to Zuga before telling his Marines to open up.

"Zuga! Pull your pack back right now, or I'm shooting through you!"

With a glare over his shoulder and what sounded like a curse, Zuga and his men hopped backwards, retreating back down the tunnel the way that the creature had come and out of their line of fire. Moralez gave the order, and his men loosed a volley from their rifles. The hypersonic slugs peppered the thing, spraying orange fluid as they penetrated the carapace, and it dropped the dismembered Borealan to turn towards the humans.

From behind it, Lambda fired another salvo, but it shrugged off the rounds and marched towards the Marines. Its savage mandibles clicked and twitched, like the bladed legs of a crab, still dripping with dark blood.

"Just fucking die!" Moralez shouted, his voice lost amongst the sounds of gunfire. The thing marched through the hail of projectiles as if it were merely rain, viscous ichor leaking from its innumerable wounds. It wasn't going down, but it was slowing. It was covered in armor, even its relatively tiny head was covered in thick plating. It could have been its natural carapace, maybe synthetic armor, it was impossible to tell.

"Fall back!" Moralez ordered, using the mic in his helmet rather than attempting to yell over the racket. "Keep firing!" The column moved backwards as the thing staggered towards them, but those at the back were holding them up. The passage was just too narrow for the two dozen men to maneuver. The giant Bug reached the firing line as the soldiers scrambled to get away, laying into them with its claws and tearing the men apart. Limbs flew, and guts were spilled as the cries of fear and pain echoed morbidly through the tunnel.

"Keep firing!"

One Marine emptied his XMR from the hip, spraying wildly at point blank range as the heat made the coils on his rifle glow red. The thing shrugged off a spray of slugs that would have sheared a man in half, silencing his scream with a heavy blow to the head from one of its massive, armored claws. Those at the rear of the formation were running away back up the tunnel, their morale broken. If they didn't stop this monster in the next thirty seconds, it was all over.

Moralez steeled himself and strode forward, firing carefully placed shots at its head, but it just would not drop. The shots were penetrating, at the muzzle velocity of a railgun, how could they not? Yet it wasn't enough to put the thing down. The Borealans came at it from behind, leaping onto its back and stabbing it with their bayonets, but they didn't penetrate far enough into its thick shell.

The tunnel was a brawl now, unit cohesion was a long forgotten memory. The Borealans clambered over the thing, trying to find a weak spot with their spear-like rifles. Injured and dying soldiers littered the ground, the giant Bug thrashing its arms and clawing at its assailants, trampling and screeching. Moralez unholstered his 1911, his XMR too unwieldy to use at this range, but would the .45 even penetrate its armored carapace? He didn't have the time to find out, he caught a massive crab claw to the side and was sent tumbling several meters down the tunnel, coming to a rest near where the first Borealan had been pinned and butchered.