Camp Sunrise: Follow the Rabbit

Posted on 31 Mar 2023 @ 4:39pm by Major Porter Wallace
Edited on on 31 Mar 2023 @ 5:19pm

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Korix, the Island
Timeline: Just after "The Last Option"
1928 words - 3.9 OF Standard Post Measure

Wallace stepped into the compound and moved quickly, staying in the shadows of the buildings. The storm was picking up intensity, the wind smashing down on top of the ground like a foot stomping on ants. It was perfect weather for a weaker opponent to surprise a stronger one, he just hoped Ibis would be able to get airborne.

He paused at the last building: he would have preferred a solid square shape, a corner to duck behind, but the Pyrryx didn’t seem to be on guard. Why wasn’t it in the craft? It looked to be working at a panel on the outside of the craft. Wallace’s eye wanted to slide off the armored-alien whenever it moved. That must have something to do with the intricate patterns carved into its black, almost crystalline-like armor. If not for the blood red cape flying in the wind, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to see the damn thing at all.

Reaching into the satchel he pulled out the first of his grenades. N’to had admitted that the Korinn hadn't had the ability to test the explosives without the Z’ala discovering them, but were fairly confident they’d work. Wallace wished his friend had just kept quiet about it, because now he was worried that if he pulled the blue chord the thing would go off in his hand.

Nothing to do for it. Dropping his hand into the satchel a second time, he pulled out the small med pack case and flipped it open. The two bright yellow adrenaline pills rolled around inside. He’d last used a pill like these on a muddy battlefield during the Dominion War and, after a couple hours, was nearly delirious with exhaustion. Ibis didn’t need a couple hours though. She needed about thirty minutes. If she couldn’t figure out a way to get him out of here in that amount of time, it just wasn’t going to happen.

He popped one in his mouth and bit down. Nothing happened at first, but by the count of five a coolness passed throughout his body. His eyesight became sharper, his back and knees stopped their constant whining. Wallace took a deep breath, then began to sprint straight toward the ship and the Pyrryx.

The plan was simple: attack then run. Good plans always were simple. It was the execution that was always the trick.

The Pyrryx had finally stopped working when it suddenly heard Wallace’s feet slapping against the wet paving stones. Too late. Wallace slid the last three feet on his knees, throwing one blow of his pickaxe toward the back of their knee. He missed, weapon clanging against the upper thigh plate. The reverberation nearly twisted the pickaxe out of his hand, but he just managed to keep his grip. Wallace threw himself into a roll beneath the craft before the Pyrryx quite understood what had happened.

On the other side, he jumped to his feet and started to run the twenty-yard dash to the safety of the buildings. A bolt of energy ripped through the air, passing a hair’s breadth over his shoulder. As he ran between two buildings, he turned around and spotted the enemy charging after him. Good. With his teeth he yanked the blue wire out of the grenade and dropped it on the ground.

Mercifully, it exploded seconds later and, luckily, just after the Pyrryx had passed it, sending the giant to its knees with a crash. Wallace paused just long enough so that it could see him pass between the gap in the buildings. Now, Ibis! he thought, wishing that she still had her telepathy to hear him. His heart leapt: he saw three shadows crossing the plaza. That a girl.

Wallace passed through, and jogged into the triangular opening between three buildings. He paused here, readjusting the satchel and snatching the primitive plasma gun out. He thought for a moment about testing the weapon, but worried it would give his position away. Hopefully, like the grenade, it would work.

The rain was a sheet now, pounding so hard on the tiles that he could barely hear a thing. Lightning flashed, pulling Wallace’s attention skyward. Another bolt lit up the area and he caught sight of something creeping along the flat tile roof of the far building. Another flash. No, two somethings. Big things, wider, but smaller than the Pyrryx. They weren’t Korinn either, not when they’re movements were silky and fluid, and they appeared to be moving on their feet and hands.

Once the things had reached the overhang, they grabbed hold of the edge of the tile roof and swung their bodies over, dangling from the three-story drop. Their feet sought out the lip of a windowsill and they let go of the overhang. Wallace expected them to stand on the sill, but instead, their feet clung to it and, while hanging upside down, they began to reach for the next window below them.

Oh, shit.

He needed to close the space before the two things could reach the ground and so took off at a sprint.

The shadows reached the ground just as Wallace came within what he hoped was the range of the plasma gun. He aimed and squeezed the trigger. A blue-white jet of flame erupted from the end elongating to ten feet, striking the first figure to touch the ground. This wasn’t a gun, he realized. This was a flamethrower.

The ape-like creature became a burning pyre, screaming an awful howl louder even than rain. It ran away, toward a far building, trailing a stink of fur and skin behind it.

Wallace barely noticed the smell or squeals of agony, quickly pivoting to face the other creature. Too late. It hit him in his arm with its shoulder sending the plasma weapon spinning into the darkness. He felt it rake its hand down his right side. A scorching pain followed, causing his eyes to open wide and his lungs suck in a deep breath. The adrenaline kept the pain at bay, however, and Wallace brought his pickaxe into a sweeping motion from the left and connected with metallic armor.

Hot breathe that smelled like rotting flesh preceded snapping jaws that nearly took a chunk out of his cheek. Wallace felt the spittle hit his face and he pushed back with all his might against the monster, gaining a few inches. He swung his pickaxe, connected this time with flesh, but not enough to seriously hurt the thing. Still, it backed off and he quickly spun and ran for the nearest building, the thing at his heels

A window! Without another thought, Wallace jumped through the opening. Luck was with him: his shoulders were just wide enough to fit and the rest of his body slid through. His knees banged heavily on the top of the window sill sending him head over heels. He landed on his back, the air slammed out of him. By sheer will power he pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the window.

The creature didn’t follow. The glass window, now just a remnant, had cut his arms to and back to ribbons, and blood from numerous lacerations on his head bled into his eyes. He quickly tore one of his short legs off and tied it around his brow. The kelp the Starfleet survivors made their clothing out of barely stemmed the waterfall. He just hoped it was enough to keep his vision clear.

Carefully, Wallace pushed himself off the ground and limped toward the door of the room. There was something not quite right about the construction of the building, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The doors were normal, the size of the room wasn’t oversized. There wasn’t anything on the walls, but then bare walls were hardly a concern for him.
Wallace moved into a hall, its trajectory matching the circular shape of the building. After all of the excitement in the last few minutes, the silence was eerie. He turned to the left and padded silently down the corridor hoping that it would eventually lead him to an outside door. He passed dozens of other interior doors, some closed, most standing open. Again a feeling swept over him that there wasn’t something right about any of this.

And then the Pyrryx emerged from a door ahead of him and he immediately knew what was wrong: the whole building was too small for it. Its arms nearly brushed both sides of the hall and it had to crouch else its head scrape along the ceiling.
If he’d been an architect Wallace would’ve wondered about how a building so small could be built for a creature so large, but all he saw was a tactical advantage.

Quickly, he sprinted down the hall pulling out the long knife as he ran. The Pyrryx tried to bring its weapon around to aim at the charging Human, but was impaired by the tight quarters. Wallace slapped the gun down and began attacking the joints of the giant. If the armor was weak anywhere, Wallace bet that it would be around the elbows, ankles, knees, and neck

The Pyrryx took longer than Wallace would’ve guessed to finally swat him away. He flew through the air and slammed painfully against the wall and then to the ground. Speed was essential in hand-to-hand fighting. Lying prone was certain death. Despite all the air from his lungs being violently expelled and a sharp pain in his side, Wallace was up on his feet before the Pyrryx could get more than a step in his direction.

His second furious attack lasted less than half as long as the first before Wallace was scrambling to his feet once more after being tossed aside. He didn’t expect a third time would gain him anything. The Pyrryx seemed to be quickly adapting to the tight confines. So, he changed tactics.

He pulled the grenade out of his bag and pulled the blue wire tossing it at the Pyrryx. Spying a doorway just to his right, Wallace flew into it with his shoulder hoping his luck was with him. It burst open with a loud crack just as the grenade exploded, filling the air with smoke and flying debris.

Coughing, Wallace crawled in the opposite direction. As the smoke lessened he saw another doorway, open this time, and crawled through. Still on his hands and knees, he took a moment to catch his breath. When he woke up this morning, he hadn’t expected to be in the middle of hand-to-hand combat. It’d been so long that he was amazed he was managing it at all.

Climbing back to his feet, he scampered in what he hoped was the right direction. The sound of the storm raging outside was a beacon that he followed. Coming through another heavier door, he found himself back outside in the courtyard. The storm’s mighty wind nearly pushed him off his feet, but he managed to slink alongside the building, using it as a windbreak.

His right eye was swollen shut, but he could see that the spacecraft that had been in the courtyard was gone. Wallace looked up, seeing it buffeted against the wind whenever the lighting sliced across the heavens. She was doing it. Ibis was going.

Thank God.