”Okay marines, we’re here to check out why this planet has gone dark. Remember, we’re just here to do recon, not to start a fight, so avoid the locals. Pickup is in 72 hours. Stay together, and stay frosty.”
Captain Soto looked over his squad. He wasn’t really sure why Command had sent them to do recon on the Senate world, but the alliance had been accused to be behind the vanishing of entire colonies in the sector, and the brass probably did this as PR. Soto sighs. “Well then, let’s get moving people.”
He steps off the drop ship, and readies his weapon while looking around. The forested area seems calm, and beyond the leaves rustling in a mild breeze there is no sound.
Sergeant Hagen steps out beside Soto. “No welcome wagon. Maybe the locals didn’t notice us?”
Soto shakes his head. “Unlikely. We passed right over a major population center, so if no one noticed us, they’re deaf and blind, or dead. Everybody keep your armors sealed. Until we’ve ruled out bacteria, viruses and poison gas, hasmat protocols are in effect.”
The remaining marines exit the craft.
“What are our status on guns?”
It was private Vasquez that asked, and Soto gave him a quick glance. “No shooting civvies, keep your guns secured until there’s a clear threat. We’re here to help alliance relations with the senate, not worsen them.”
There are a few nods among the marines, but all look rather uneasy. It hadn’t been long since the war, and being alone without backup on a planet possibly crawling with hostiles for three days isn’t anything anyone wants to do.
“Well then, move up. It’s two clicks to the city.”
“Sir, I don’t like this at all.”
The city was rather large, concrete and stone stretching out for miles. The city is one built for many thousand, if not millions of people. And they saw no one.
It was completely empty, as far as their eyes can see, and Soto must admit he agreed with the medic, Sulieman.
Sulieman was standing in the middle of a street built for large-scale transportation, but beyond abandoned vehicles lined up towards the exit from the city, the roads were empty.
No battle scarred pavement, no bodies, no signs of invasion, fighting or any sort of disease.
“Did you pick up on any contagions or toxins?”
Soto had to make sure. It didn’t seem likely, but assumptions were fatal. The medic finished his scan, his handheld scanner bleeping merrily.
“No sir, nothing at all. Oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, the usual. No microorganisms, or toxins above safe limits.”
Soto nods as Sulieman puts away the scanner.
“Alright, we’re clear to remove helmets.”
Soto was the first. He’d been in space for months, and breathing fresh air on a planet was something he had been looking forwards to.
As he draws his first non-filtered breath, he immediately regretted the decision.
There was a stench in the air, like flesh left to rot in the sun.
It stung in his nostrils, and he found himself on the verge of losing his lunch.
“Ugh, by all the gods, what is that stench?!”
He could see that Hagen, whose pink-dyed hair illuminated the surrounding area, was also suffering from similar effects, before putting her helmet back on.
Soto followed her example.
“See, this is why I don’t like taking my helmet off.”
Vasquez sounded a bit too chipper for the otherwise very ominous environment, and it bothered Soto somewhat.
“Shut it, Vas.”
It was Dieter, the assault specialist, who seemed to be even more bothered by the Spaniard’s endless wells of positivity than Soto himself.
“What? I’m just stating the clearly proven fact that helmets are vital parts of our equipment, and really shouldn’t-“
“I said shut it, Vas.”
“Dammit, Ulrich. You’re no fun.”
Soto sighs.
“Both of you stop it. You’re marines, not twelve year olds. Now, let’s head up to that public building over there. Let’s see if we can find out what happened here. Sulieman, Astrid, move up. Vasquez, Dieter, you’re on rearguard. Keep your eyes out for contacts. Fingers off your triggers unless they attack first.”
It’s Vasquez’s time to sigh.
“You know, I don’t understand why you bother to get me this many explosives if you don’t let me blow shit up.”
Soto turns and looks at the marine.
“Remember that we’re here on duty, not R&R. If you just wanted to blow shit up, you should have worked as a demolitions expert back on earth. I hear they’re tearing down the second tier city of New York.”
The marine’s shoulders slump.
“Aw man, that sounds like so much fun…”
As they approached the city hall, Soto noticed that there were a number of temporary-looking fences, topped with barbed wire, blocking their way. There was still no sight or sound of any people, and the only way to the city hall lead through what seemed to be an abandoned military checkpoint. Whoever had set it up had left everything behind, Guns, fortifications, and a whole lot of spent weapons cells.
“Sulieman, I hope you’re getting all of this on your helmet cam.”
The medic nods.
But ammunition wasn’t the worrying part.
The worrying part was that the entire area was caked with old, dried blood, but there was not a single corpse in view.
What the hell could have done something like this?
“Okay people, move up to city hall! Let’s get this done.”
They move through the checkpoint, and approach the city hall.
It’s a large, official-looking gray concrete building, most reminiscent of old soviet constructions back on Earth, with the large exception being the huge Senate logo fastened over the door, and the tattered yellow banners hanging from a few places along the roof, flapping slightly in the wind.
Soto moved up to the door.
“Standard breach. We don’t know if whatever did this is still inside.”
The marines nod, and they take up formation around the door.
Vasquez is the one who throws the door open, and they file inside.
Everywhere is broken furniture, and the floor is covered with bags, documents and discarded technology.
But still no corpses.
They move up towards the central office area of the town hall, which luckily had the familiar byrocratic layout as most buildings of this style.
There’s a sound, and as one, the marines turn their guns towards the break from total stillness that just occurred.
Whatever it is, it’s blocked by a bathroom door.
“Form up. Be ready.”
Soto gently tries the door.
Unlocked.
He pushes it open, and is faced by a similarly ruined bathroom, complete with toilet stalls.
But all of their attention is drawn towards the singular person in the room.
A Gajun female.
For a moment, everything is completely still, but then the female starts to turn towards them, slowly reaching out towards them, and groaning. She then starts to take slow, limping steps in their direction.
Sulieman steps towards her, reaching for his medkit.
“Miss, please sit down and let me-“
He is stopped by Ulrich.
“Hold up, Bishop. I’ve seen way too many zombie flicks to think that this isn’t fucked the hell up.
You! Stop moving and sit down!”
The message, transmitted in Galactic common, doesn’t make the Gajun stop.
If anything, her pace towards them increases.
“I said get down on the ground, NOW!”
Ulrich raises his gun, taking aim for her head, but the gun is pushed aside by Sulieman.
“Jesus Christ, man! She’s in shock!”
The medic is audibly upset, but Soto starts to agree with Ulrich.
As she draws closer, he can see that most of her left leg is simply shorn off, leaving only bone, and from the injuries on her leg, he can see unnaturally squirming flesh.
Worse still, there seem to be no dried blood around her fresh-looking wounds, and she doesn’t bleed.
“Sulieman!”
Soto merely points, before he hefts his assault rifle.
“Get down on the ground, now! Or I will shoot!”
She doesn’t stop.
There are two loud cracks, and then the sound of slugs perforating the far wall, as blood flies everywhere.
Coagulated blood.
“What the fuck captain?!”
The medic is even more upset now, and Soto lowers his assault rifle.
“I know what’s happened here. It’s a mother fucking zombie apocalypse.”
Out from the main halls of the city hall, they can start hearing groaning, and the stirring of bodies among the rubble.