Grendel Unit 2: Ignition Sequence by Bernard Schaffer

Author:Bernard Schaffer [Schaffer, Bernard]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Dia de los Toros Publishing
Published: 2014-03-16T23:00:00+00:00

6. Body Count's in the House

Their ship descended through a layer of smog so intense it covered the ship's windows in yellow, misty grime. Frank leaned forward against the observation port to peer down at the surface, seeing nothing but dimly glowing streetlights. Buehl was bickering with the ship's console, telling it, "I know the altimeter says we're approaching landing distance, but I can't see a damn thing!"

The proximity warning alarm sounded, beeping rapidly as the ship continued dropping. The rapid descent made Frank's ears pop so violently, he had to clench his eyes shut and wait for the pain to pass. He grabbed a dangling storage strap from the wall and held it with both hands, tightening his grip as the warning alert became one long, panicked computer cry. They collided with the ground so hard that every light on the ship flickered as Frank was lifted two feet off the floor and swung sideways into the wall. Once the ship had settled, he was still swinging from the security strap, too terrified to move.

"Sorry!" Buehl called out. "Sorry about that. That was my fault. The damn system wouldn't calibrate for all the pollution. Is everybody all right?"

Frank let himself down and stood up shakily. From further down the corridor, he could hear Lieutenant Hill vomiting and had to smile.

I might be an F.N.G. but at least I'm not a puker.

He bent down to look at Iscariot-Four, seeing nothing but a smoky, fog-ridden city block. There were large geysers of steam pouring from the tops of tall smokestacks that ran up from the sidewalk. Steam hissed out of rusted metals grates in the gutters, and high above the wet surface of the street, a four-lane aerial highway with hovercars and bikes and trucks racing past one another at neck-breaking speeds.

In the dense, gray mist, Frank saw that he wasn't the only one watching. There were dozens of glittering eyes staring back at the ship, and at him. The fog shifted and he saw creatures and aliens and oddly-shaped figures of every kind. He looked for any humans, either on the street or in the cars above, but saw none.

Hill came banging down the corridor, wiping his mouth and scowling at Buehl. He was buckling a service pistol around his waist as he said, "Thanks for almost killing us, you imbecile."

"I'm sorry about that, El-tee. I'm still getting used to flying this thing."

"Well you better get used to it, or you'll be reassigned to the service corps," Hill snapped. He nodded his head for Frank to follow and said, "Are you ready? That jackhole Cojo is out there and the sooner we find him boozed up in some bar, the sooner we can get the hell off this dump."

"Wait a second," Buehl said, jumping out of his seat. "We haven't discussed what kind of gear you're taking for this mission."

Hill patted the pistol holstered on his hip and said, "I've got all the gear I need. Frank doesn't need a gun if he has me.

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