one."
At least partially insane.
The flip side was they were also potentially the most lethal advance force in the world. Perhaps that required a degree of insanity.
The man carried himself in a well-balanced stride, almost catlike in his movements, surprising Talbot with his silky grace, in almost total contrast to the coarseness of his speech.
Wes led him down into the pyramid, the narrow tunnel floor layered with rubber mats to prevent slipping given the steep decline. Moisture constantly dripped from the low ceiling, and Talbot guessed if he tripped there'd be no stopping until he crashed into the stone wall at the bottom.
Not a pleasant prospect.
Every now and then, Wes would point out something of absolutely no importance, seemingly just to make conversation. Some were extremely obscure, and Talbot felt they should hold some meaning for him, but he found himself coming up empty.
"That's where Malcolms copped it," Wes said at one stage, pointing to a tunnel off to their left. "Fucking thing came out of nowhere and ripped his head straight off. You should have seen it!" The soldier grinned, shadows from the intermittent lanterns casting his visage in a maniacal light. "Like someone popping the cork on a bottle of champers. Sprayed shit out everywhere."
"Uh... okay," replied Talbot, at a loss for an appropriate response.
"Good man, Malcolms. Fucking good man."
"I'm sure he was," said Talbot, glancing at one of the marines behind him to see his reaction to Wes's statement. The man simply averted his gaze, ignoring Talbot.
"How're you gonna do it, anyway?" said Wes, abruptly changing the subject. "I mean, you're the one who's gonna to sort this shit out, aren't ya?"
Talbot was taken aback, and his step faltered, tripping him forward. Instantly the commando's hand whipped out and grasped his upper arm, pre-empting his fall in a vice-like grip.
"Watch that step, Doc," drawled the Australian casually. Talbot's heart thudded in his chest.
"Thank you," he gasped.
Wes just shrugged. "I'm your babysitter now. Wouldn't be much good if I let you get all fucked up on the doorstep now, would it?"
"I guess not," replied Talbot.
"Anyway, like I was sayin', how you gonna fix this thing?"
"I honestly have no idea," said Talbot, the enormity of the question dropping upon his shoulders like a giant sandbag.
"Hope you think of something soon," grunted Wes. "Otherwise we're all fucked. These things are hard to take down, trust me. If more than a couple come through this planet is done. For people anyway."
"I wish my brother were here," murmured Talbot despondently.
"Yeah, Thomas was a good bloke, funny bastard. Got fucking embarrassed every time I swore, how fucking funny is that?"
"Um, yeah," replied Talbot.
"Kind of like you," said Wes cracking a sly grin.
Talbot glanced at the man and almost tripped again, catching himself on the side of the tunnel, his hand coming away covered in a thick slime. He grimaced and wiped the grime onto the leg of his pants.
"Yep. He was a bit of a sissy too," mused Wes amicably.
Talbot bit back a retort. "How do they keep the ocean out?" he asked instead, changing the subject.
"Big fucking noisy shit, that's how," responded Wes. "The pumps just about shake this fucking place apart, but they keep us dry... sort of."
His vagueness merely annoyed Talbot. He decided against further attempts to gather any facts from the soldier; his universe obviously began and ended with killing people.
"Sad about your brother. Those bastards really hung him out to dry," said Wes suddenly.
"How do you mean?" asked Talbot.
"Leaving him behind and all that. Pretty fucked up if you know what I mean."
"They had no choice."
Wes grimaced. "There's always a choice. Those useless bastards just didn't like that one."
"How so?" queried Talbot.
"Well, I wasn't there, but from what I heard, they just ran like rabbits when that fucking dog thing tore through them. Your brother had done something to slow down
At least partially insane.
The flip side was they were also potentially the most lethal advance force in the world. Perhaps that required a degree of insanity.
The man carried himself in a well-balanced stride, almost catlike in his movements, surprising Talbot with his silky grace, in almost total contrast to the coarseness of his speech.
Wes led him down into the pyramid, the narrow tunnel floor layered with rubber mats to prevent slipping given the steep decline. Moisture constantly dripped from the low ceiling, and Talbot guessed if he tripped there'd be no stopping until he crashed into the stone wall at the bottom.
Not a pleasant prospect.
Every now and then, Wes would point out something of absolutely no importance, seemingly just to make conversation. Some were extremely obscure, and Talbot felt they should hold some meaning for him, but he found himself coming up empty.
"That's where Malcolms copped it," Wes said at one stage, pointing to a tunnel off to their left. "Fucking thing came out of nowhere and ripped his head straight off. You should have seen it!" The soldier grinned, shadows from the intermittent lanterns casting his visage in a maniacal light. "Like someone popping the cork on a bottle of champers. Sprayed shit out everywhere."
"Uh... okay," replied Talbot, at a loss for an appropriate response.
"Good man, Malcolms. Fucking good man."
"I'm sure he was," said Talbot, glancing at one of the marines behind him to see his reaction to Wes's statement. The man simply averted his gaze, ignoring Talbot.
"How're you gonna do it, anyway?" said Wes, abruptly changing the subject. "I mean, you're the one who's gonna to sort this shit out, aren't ya?"
Talbot was taken aback, and his step faltered, tripping him forward. Instantly the commando's hand whipped out and grasped his upper arm, pre-empting his fall in a vice-like grip.
"Watch that step, Doc," drawled the Australian casually. Talbot's heart thudded in his chest.
"Thank you," he gasped.
Wes just shrugged. "I'm your babysitter now. Wouldn't be much good if I let you get all fucked up on the doorstep now, would it?"
"I guess not," replied Talbot.
"Anyway, like I was sayin', how you gonna fix this thing?"
"I honestly have no idea," said Talbot, the enormity of the question dropping upon his shoulders like a giant sandbag.
"Hope you think of something soon," grunted Wes. "Otherwise we're all fucked. These things are hard to take down, trust me. If more than a couple come through this planet is done. For people anyway."
"I wish my brother were here," murmured Talbot despondently.
"Yeah, Thomas was a good bloke, funny bastard. Got fucking embarrassed every time I swore, how fucking funny is that?"
"Um, yeah," replied Talbot.
"Kind of like you," said Wes cracking a sly grin.
Talbot glanced at the man and almost tripped again, catching himself on the side of the tunnel, his hand coming away covered in a thick slime. He grimaced and wiped the grime onto the leg of his pants.
"Yep. He was a bit of a sissy too," mused Wes amicably.
Talbot bit back a retort. "How do they keep the ocean out?" he asked instead, changing the subject.
"Big fucking noisy shit, that's how," responded Wes. "The pumps just about shake this fucking place apart, but they keep us dry... sort of."
His vagueness merely annoyed Talbot. He decided against further attempts to gather any facts from the soldier; his universe obviously began and ended with killing people.
"Sad about your brother. Those bastards really hung him out to dry," said Wes suddenly.
"How do you mean?" asked Talbot.
"Leaving him behind and all that. Pretty fucked up if you know what I mean."
"They had no choice."
Wes grimaced. "There's always a choice. Those useless bastards just didn't like that one."
"How so?" queried Talbot.
"Well, I wasn't there, but from what I heard, they just ran like rabbits when that fucking dog thing tore through them. Your brother had done something to slow down
Similar Books
