Chapter 7: Controlled Burn

“I’ll trade you the spicy chicken and rice for your beef stromboli,” Evan said, digging through the packets in his MRE. It was lunchtime, and the squad was sitting in the rubble of a ruined warehouse back at the Bug anchor, the crumbling pieces of resin making for more comfortable seats than the muddy ground. Their IFV was nearby, the engine turned off, the crew hanging out in the open troop bay as they ate.

“What, I’m supposed to want the spicy food because I’m Mexican?” Hernandez replied in mock outrage. “Fuck you. Doesn’t even have any limes.”

“I’ve seen you eat, motherfucker,” Evan shot back. “If you were a Borealan, you’d be carrying around vials of hot sauce. Do you want the spicy chicken or not?”

“Of course I want the spicy chicken,” Hernandez chuckled, snatching it out of his hand. “What else you got in there?”

“Jalapeno cheese spread,” he replied, tossing the packet into his friend’s lap. “You can have that, too. The hell are they thinking with this menu?”

“You can have my applesauce, you fuckin’ baby.”

They were distracted as another lander roared overhead, carrying a piece of prefab barrier for the wall that was being constructed around the area, the great slab of reinforced polymer hanging from its belly on chains. It seemed that the higher-ups had decided to use the anchor site as a temporary FOB. They’d be putting down guard towers and barracks soon, turning the place into a fortified base from which the battalion could launch raids on the surrounding Bug tunnels. Once that was done, they’d probably pick up and move on to the next site, wherever that might be.

Evan raised his canteen to his lips, tilting his head back to take a drink. As he peered up at the auroras that trailed across the sky, he spotted another incoming ship. His heart stopped in his chest as he saw the insectoid legs that were folded beneath its belly, his hand reaching for the rifle that was leaning against a mound of soil beside him.

He relaxed a little when he noticed the UN-blue livery on the onyx-black armor plating that covered its back like the shell of a lobster, the organic craft starting to bank as it made its way closer.

“It’s Jarilan,” Hernandez explained, sensing the tension in him. “Looks like it’s comin’ in for a landin’. They told us we’d have to work alongside critters in the briefin’ back on the carrier, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Evan replied as he watched the vessel suspiciously. Those insect-like, jointed legs extended as it neared the ground, serving as landing gear. It looked like a giant shrimp, with a distinct head that was covered in arrays of tiny, black eyes that shone in the sun. A cluster of thin antennae projected out before it like the comms package on a survey ship, and he noted that it had a pair of plasma weapons slung beneath its prow. Its abdomen was bulkier, swollen, the angular plating that protected its back tapering into off-green flesh as it neared its underside. The entire craft was maybe a little larger than a UNN dropship. It used the rows of thrusters that ran along its flanks to steady itself as it touched down not far away from where they were sitting. Each one of them moved independently, attached by muscle rather than machinery, the emerald jets of methane flame gradually fading.

The rear of the vessel began to open up, the black plating splitting apart like the wings of a beetle preparing to take flight, exposing the tendons beneath it. From below, a far more mechanical ramp descended, Evan unable to see inside from where he was sitting.

A procession of Bugs came jogging out, far more than looked like they should be able to fit in a craft of that size. Their shells were all painted in matching camouflage, and they were wielding XMRs, their faces obscured behind what almost looked like motorcycle helmets. Each of them had a ruff of fluffy, white fur around their necks, the same fluff present on their wrists. Just like the Marines, they were wearing rigs and backpacks. Around their waists was a kind of segmented skirt made from hanging plates of chitin that reached down to their knees, bringing to mind images of Roman legionaries.

The Battalion commander walked out to meet them, talking with one of them for a couple of minutes as the rest formed a neat line behind it like they were on parade. Evan counted twenty-four of them. When they were done talking, they split into groups of three, all heading off in different directions. Hernandez gave him a nudge when he saw that a trio of Bugs were headed their way.

They stopped beside the IFV, the squad of confused Marines staring back at them. The lead Bug passed its XMR to its lower pair of arms, then reached up to remove its helmet with the upper. Rather than slide it off as a human would, it popped off a faceplate that housed the visor, then slid the rest of the helmet off the back of its head. It looked to Evan like the horn would get in the way otherwise.

Its face was oddly familiar, with a pair of large, expressive eyes that didn’t look like they belonged on an insect at all. There was no nose, and its mouth was made up of an arrangement of plates, closely mimicking the appearance of a human. The effect made it look a little like a china doll that had been broken, then glued back together again. He was surprised to see a pair of full, fleshy lips, pink in color. As the creature began to speak, those plates shifted around, giving it the ability to emote.

“Jarilan auxiliaries, reporting for duty,” it announced in a distinctly feminine voice. Unlike the Borealans and the Valbarans, it spoke perfect English with no accent that he could discern. If he’d been listening to it over the radio, he would have mistaken it for a human.

She – and it was clearly a female – turned to the sergeant as he set down the packet of pork and beans that he had been eating, saluting him as he approached.

“You’re the Jarilans that were assigned to the company,” he mused, looking them up and down.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Three per IFV, Battalion-wide. We’re here to help you root out the Bugs.”

Evan and Hernandez exchanged a glance. Root out the Bugs? They were Bugs...

“Very good,” the sergeant replied. “I suppose you’re looking for Echo-fourteen? You’ll be rolling with my squad,” he added, gesturing to Evan and the rest of the Marines who were sitting nearby. “That’s our Puma over there. Should be room for you to stand inside, but you may have to ride on the hull. Get settled in.”

She responded with another prim salute, like a rookie straight out of boot camp. As the sergeant returned to his seat and resumed his meal, the three Bugs turned their eyes on the Marines. Evan made the mistake of making eye contact with their leader, who took that as an invitation, making a beeline for him.

“Hey,” she said with a wave of her hand, her mannerisms remarkably human. “My name’s Jade,” she added, gesturing to an armband that she was wearing. It had a UNN logo, along with velcro patches with her name and rank. “Looks like we’re going to be working together from now on.”

“Evan,” he replied, trying to be polite.

“Bugs have names?” Hernandez asked, Evan struggling not to audibly sigh.

“Sure we do,” she replied cheerfully, as though she had heard the same question before. “My Dad named me. I’m usually green,” she added, rapping a fist against her angular chest piece. “They painted us red before we dropped so we wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb.”

“Bugs have Da-”

Evan cleared his throat loudly before Hernandez could finish his thought.

“They told us we’d be working with Bugs back on the carrier,” he began. “You guys are here to sniff out tunnel entrances, right?”

“That, and to lend a helping hand or four where we can,” she replied as her face plates arranged into an uncanny smile. “We prefer Jarilan to Bug, by the way. Jarry is fine too. Our species didn’t originate in the Betelgeuse system, and we’re only very distantly related to the other hives. We actually have as much human DNA as Betelgeusian.”

“How did that come about?” Hernandez asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mom was a Queen, Dad was a Marine,” she replied proudly. “Got my rifle arm from him, and the other three from her.” She turned her eyes to the MRE that Evan was eating, nodding to it. “Smells good. Beef, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, suppressing the impulse to ask her how she could smell anything without a nose. “You, uh ... want some?”

“Nah, thanks,” she replied with a shake of her head. “We only need our honey ration to survive. Looks like your buddy shares our tastes.”

Hernandez looked up at her, halfway through squeezing a tube of amber fluid with the consistency of syrup onto a cracker.

“That stuff’s a Jarilan export,” she explained. “Our Repletes make it. Eat up – Jarry Juice is good for you.”

Hernandez turned his eyes back to his cracker, his disappointment palpable. Jade made her way closer, apparently deciding that she had found her new friends, taking a seat beside Evan on a piece of rubble. She crossed her long legs, Evan glancing down at them. They were digitigrade, with pink flesh visible between the joints, her ankles decorated with a ring of white fluff. He noted that her inner thighs weren’t armored, sporting more of that pink meat, reflecting the light like a waxed car. It didn’t look like skin, more like smooth plastic. At first glance, she looked like the Drones that he had spent his career fighting, but she was indeed more humanoid upon closer inspection. Her silhouette was closer to that of a human woman, with wide hips that tapered into a narrow waist. Unlike the gaunt insectoids, she was fuller, like a Bug that had been sculpted into the shape of a person with deliberate intent.

“So, how do those work?” he asked as he pointed to her antennae. They were long and feathery, reminding him of a moth, the tiny hairs that coated them blowing in the breeze. A couple were standing erect, while two more fell down the back of her head to give the appearance of braids.

“My antennae?” she asked, reaching up to curl her finger around one of them. “They’re basically what we use as a nose. They’re covered in chemo-receptors that can detect odors in the air. They’re also sensitive to humidity and sound waves, to an extent.”

“What kind of training do you guys do?” he continued, just making conversation to avoid an awkward silence. “Do you go through boot camp, maybe integration training like the Borealans?”

“I grew up around humans,” she chuckled. “I’ve probably spent more time with your kind than mine, if you can even make that distinction. No integration training needed. We go through a training program on Jarilo that was set up by some ex-Marines, including my Dad. He was a scout sniper when he was in the UNN. Needless to say, we have to meet the Navy’s standards to qualify as auxiliaries, but I don’t know if there’s ever been a Jarilan that couldn’t cut it. Bred for war and all that.”

“You’ve lived around humans?” he asked, the revelation surprising him. “I knew there were human colonists on Jarilo, but I figured ... I dunno, that you’d live apart.”

“Everyone lives together on Jarilo,” she explained. “It’s a young colony, people can’t get by without pulling their weight. If you need someone to repair a generator or help you put up a fence, you aren’t going to care how many limbs they have.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he replied over another mouthful of his meal. He looked over to see what the other two Jarilans were doing, seeing that one of them was leaning against the hull of the IFV, chatting with a couple of Marines. Another was standing on the ramp, talking with the crew who were sat inside.

“Man,” Hernandez suddenly said, stretching his arms above his head conspicuously. “I gotta go drain the worm. You wanna come watch my back and make sure no roaches get the drop on me, Evan?”

“Do I want to watch you piss?” Evan replied. “No.”

“Come on,” he hissed, nodding in the direction of a nearby ruin.

“Fine, fine,” Evan conceded. “We’ll be right back,” he added apologetically, the curious Jarilan watching them leave.

He followed Hernandez through the rubble, the pair stopping when they were out of sight of the rest of the squad, putting most of a collapsed warehouse between them and their new allies.

“What do you make of this?” Hernandez asked.

“Are you about to show me a tumor?”

“No, dickhead, the critters. Think we can trust ‘em?”

“I don’t see why not,” Evan replied with a shrug. “It’s not like they can go turncoat. The hives fight each other just as much as they fight us. They won’t show the Jarries any mercy just because they have the same number of arms. Hell, it might piss them off even more, like when you pet a friend’s cat and yours can smell it on you.”

“Just doesn’t sit right with me,” Hernandez grumbled. “It’s one thing when they’re on another ship, but we’re gonna be bunkin’ with the fuckers now. Fightin’ with ‘em, eatin’ with ‘em, sharin’ a latrine.”

“Listen, I’m not any happier about this than you are,” Evan said. “What are we supposed to do about it, though? Complain to the L.T? I’m sure he’d appreciate that. Best thing we can do is knuckle down and try not to shoot them by accident when the fighting starts.”

“Fuck, you think they would court-martial us for accidentally wastin’ a Jarilan?”

“They’re Coalition troops,” Evan replied. “Of course they would. Anyway, maybe they’ll be useful,” he added with a shrug. “We sure as hell haven’t been able to root out any Bugs on our own so far. Not unless you count a bunch of clueless farmers.”

“Man, I knew this deployment was gonna suck,” Hernandez grumbled. “We had too good of a time on Valbara, that’s the problem. Now we gotta pay for it. It’s karma, dude, I’m tellin’ you.”

“Let’s get back before the Sarge has to come looking for us,” Evan said, Hernandez following after him as he made his way back between the ruined warehouses. They returned to their seats, Jade greeting them with a wave of one of her upper hands. It was so odd how she moved both pairs independently, the lower clasped neatly in her lap.

Before they had time to sit down and resume their meals, the sergeant came walking over, his helmet in hand.

“New orders just came in,” he announced. “Echo company is going on a Bug hunt. Get your shit together, we roll out in fifteen.”

The Jarilans leapt to attention, the Marines giving them confused looks as they finished off their MREs. This must be their first deployment, because the normal demeanor for someone serving in a mechanized company was some combination of tired and pissed off.

Evan wolfed down the rest of his beef stromboli, then pocketed an MRE chocolate bar, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before putting on his helmet. As the HUD turned on, he noted that the Jarilans were tagged on the IFF system, little icons with their names hovering over their heads. Perhaps they had IFF chips in their armbands or something. He didn’t actually know how much of their armor was part of their body and how much of it was synthetic. It was all painted with red camo, with no difference in texture. They could be completely nude for all he knew.

The sergeant corralled them into the IFV, Evan strapping himself in, wondering where the Jarilans were going to sit. Once all of the Marines were loaded, the three aliens came up the ramp. There were no seats left for them, so they stood in the aisle between the two benches, gripping the handholds in the ceiling. The ramp closed behind them, the engine rumbling to life as the vehicle began to drive off.

They drove along one of the old Valbaran roads for maybe an hour, the cracked, overgrown asphalt barely supporting the seventy-ton Kodiaks. Echo company was comprised of twelve main battle tanks and eight of the Puma IFVs, with about a hundred Marines between them. Along with the crews and the twenty-four Jarilan auxiliaries, there were another eighty or so men. The convoy was forced to travel single-file along the abandoned highways, led by one of Golf company’s scout vehicles, which was using its arrays of sensors to pick up Bug activity. As well as a small squadron of surveillance drones, it was equipped with a ground-penetrating radar that could pick up anomalous underground structures.

The convoy finally ground to a halt, and this time, it wasn’t to drag a fallen tree out of their path. The sergeant ordered them out of the IFV, the Jarilans hurrying down the ramp before the Marines, spreading out to guard the vehicle as they followed their training to the letter. They knew their stuff, but how much practical experience did they have?

As he stepped out onto the road, Evan saw more of the Jarilans, a trio of them attached to each squad. If nothing else, the bump in numbers was appreciated. Echo-fourteen was right in the middle of the convoy, the MBTs leading the way, the troop carriers trailing out of view around the bend behind them. His helmet’s software filtered out the rumbling of their engines, but he could still feel the ground shaking beneath his boots.

“The Timberwolf has picked up a radar signature that looks like a tunnel network,” the sergeant began, stepping forward. “It’s off the road to the South. They couldn’t pinpoint the entrance, so the company’s gonna fan out and search on foot. Here’s where our new friends come in,” he added, gesturing in Jade’s direction. The Jarilans had kept their helmets off, presumably to make better use of their antennae, the feathery appendages bobbing in the air as she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”

The various squads all set off in different directions, Evan’s team following the three Bugs into the trees, leaving the safety of the convoy behind them. The red leaves of the shrubs that dominated the forest floor rustled as they waded through them, and Evan was struck once again by the prevalence of mushrooms on this moon. They were everywhere, growing from every tree, sprouting on every fallen log. They rose up three or four meters in fungal spires in places, forming their own clusters, like a forest within a forest.

Behind them, the vehicles slowly faded from view, hidden by the densely packed trees. Evan glanced up, relieved to see one of the scout drones circling high overhead. If there were any enemies in the area, it would probably pick them up and tag them before they came into visual range.

As they made their way forward, they encountered a strange pillar. It was clearly artificial, covered in some kind of white paint that had chipped away in places, exposing the rusted metal beneath. The forest had colonized the structure, making it almost indistinguishable from the surrounding trees. Clusters of mushrooms sprouted at its base, and red vines carpeted its surface as they climbed towards the canopy above. As Evan glanced to his left and right, he was able to spot more of them, a row of the white pillars seeming to run parallel to the road. They were connected by a rail high above his head, the dense canopy that had grown around it making it almost invisible from any real distance.

“Looks like a rail line,” Hernandez said, stopping at his side to peer up at it. “Maglev, maybe, like the ones we rode back on Valbara.”

“It was just left here,” Evan muttered. “The Bugs didn’t strip it for materials or anything. It’s easy to forget that people lived here once. There were schools, hospitals, railways...”

“Fuckin’ creepy, man,” Hernandez added.

A few of the other Marines paused to look at it on their way past, but they didn’t have much time for sightseeing.

“Anything?” the sergeant asked, his voice coming through his helmet speakers.

“Nothing so far,” one of the Jarilans replied, her antennae twitching as she stalked through the bushes. “They won’t have come near the roads – no reason to when they have tunnels for transport.”

“Tunnels are better than roads?” Hernandez asked skeptically.

“You’d be surprised how fast Bugs can move through a tunnel system,” she added.

They hiked through the forest for another couple of hundred meters, then Jade raised a fist, the Marines taking a knee with their XMRs ready as they peered through the trees.

“Got a scent,” she said, bracing her rifle against her shoulder. As she held it with her upper arms, she gestured to her two companions with the lower, waving them forward. The three of them spread out, sniffing for traces of pheromones in the air like bloodhounds hunting down a fugitive. They seemed to grow more confident as they went, honing in on a distinct trail, the squad keeping watch as they followed behind them.

“There were Bugs here for sure,” Jade said, pausing by a tree to brush her antennae against its bark. “Recently. These scents aren’t more than forty-eight hours old.”

“Keep your eyes open,” the sergeant ordered. “If we locate a hive entrance, we’re gonna have to secure it until a demo team can arrive to seal it up.”

“Disturbed soil,” another of the Jarilans said, waving over her companions. Jade crouched beside her, brushing the dirt with her fingertips.

“Yep, this is fresh. They’ve been doing earthworks somewhere nearby.”

“Alright, split into three groups and search the area,” the sergeant said. “Keep comms clear until you find something.”

Evan, Hernandez, and Jade split off with a fourth Marine named Peterson, heading East as Jade followed her sensitive antennae. She kept her eyes to the ground, searching for any more telltale signs of disturbed soil. They all knew what hive entrances looked like. They usually took the form of a giant mound of earth, kind of like a molehill, with a hole carved out of one of its slopes large enough to let the Bugs in and out. Sometimes, they were sealed with doors or other fortifications, but a small entrance like this was probably undefended.

“Got it,” Jade finally said, pointing the barrel of her rifle into the trees. “That way.”

“What do you even smell?” Evan asked as he walked along beside her. “What’s it like?”

“Pheromones are messages coded into chemical signals,” she explained, keeping her eyes focused on the woods ahead. “You can read them if you have the right sensory organs. Imagine a strong smell, like a lemon or a flower. Now, imagine that the smell conveys some special meaning to you. That citrus scent might be associated with food. Well, now you just follow the smell of lemon to find the chow hall. Scale that up into more complex concepts, and you’ll get some idea of how it works.”

“So, what does the trail you’re following now smell like?”

“It’s kind of like...” She paused for a moment to consider. “When you talk to someone who doesn’t speak your language, but you can still understand their tone and get some idea of what they mean. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so,” he replied.

“I can’t tell where this tunnel leads, but I know it’s a tunnel, and that Bugs came through here recently. Drones and Workers, it smells like.”

“Drones?” Hernandez repeated, gripping his rifle a little tighter.

They came upon a clearing, quickly taking cover behind the nearby trees as they spotted the mound of soil in the distance. It was maybe three meters tall, made from earth that had been covered in the same hard, transparent resin as the warehouses.

“Looks clear,” Evan said, scanning the area with his optics. “No heat signatures.”

They stepped out into the open, advancing cautiously, their weapons trained on the mound. As they neared, they noted that something was wrong, Peterson speaking up first.

“The hell?” he muttered, taking a few steps closer to examine the doorway. “It’s collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” Hernandez asked, joining him beside the pile of dirt.

“Jade?” Evan asked, waiting for her to clarify.

“These are recent earthworks,” she explained, leaning closer to examine the soil. “It’s been purposely sealed. See this hard, clear coating? This is the resin excreted by Workers, used in construction.”

“This is fucking weird,” Evan muttered, reaching up to tap the touch panel on the side of his helmet. He switched to the squad channel, his radio crackling for a moment. “Sarge? We’ve found the tunnel entrance, but it looks like the critters have done our job for us. Fucking thing’s already sealed up. Yeah, I dunno. We’ll secure the area.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the squad to meet up, the sergeant walking around the mound as he examined it, seeming just as confused as everyone else.

“Can they unseal it?” he asked, Jade shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s not impossible, but sealing up an entrance like this usually means that they don’t intend to use it anymore. I’d wager the actual tunnel has been collapsed for good measure, too.”

“So, they abandon their own tether ports, then they seal up their own tunnels,” another of the Marines muttered. “I don’t get the play.”

“These Bugs have never met any other species besides Betelgeusians and Valbarans,” Jade explained. “They might assume that we’d want to use their tunnels to get around and are denying us that resource by sealing them up.”

“Are they gonna fight us or not?” another added, a murmur of agreement spreading through their ranks.

“I’ll call it in, but there’s not much else we can do,” the sergeant announced. “Come on, let’s get back to the convoy.”

They turned in the direction of the road, Evan jogging a little to catch up with Jade as they began to walk back through the forest.

“What do you make of this?” he asked, stepping over a cluster of mushrooms.

“I don’t know any more about the Bugs on this moon than you do,” she replied.

“I know, I know, Jarilans aren’t Betelgeusians. You told me that already. You must know more about Bugs in general, though. You’re related to them.”

“It’s not like them to retreat,” she sighed, glancing around at the trees warily. “Territory is everything to a hive – it’s their source of food, their living space, their very life. Evolution has honed them over untold eons to capture and defend stellar bodies. The only reason I can think of that they might voluntarily let an enemy force enter their territory is...”

“What?” Evan pressed, the Jarilan turning to give him a worried glance.

“A controlled burn,” she replied. “A form of habitat management that seems illogical on its face, but is a precise and measured response to a problem. Who knows when they might strike the first match.”

They soon arrived back at the convoy, the sergeant ordering them back into the IFV.

“Command says we keep looking for tunnels,” he said, climbing up the troop ramp behind them. “You know the drill. We keep going until every one of those fuckers is mapped out.”

Evan watched the trees slide past beyond the IFV’s external cameras, an endless procession of reds, oranges, and browns. Every now and then, he caught a scant glimpse of the support pillars for the maglev line that mirrored the road’s path through the forest, vines and creepers masking the faded white of their paint.

The troop carrier suddenly ground to halt, the Jarilans having to grip their handholds tightly to save from slamming into each other as the vehicle hit its brakes. Evan knocked into Hernandez, who was sitting beside him, his straps digging into his chest as they saved him from falling out of his seat.

“The fuck was that?” he heard someone ask, his eyes turning back to the external camera feed. They were on a long stretch of road, cracked and overgrown, its slight curve allowing him to see the lead vehicle far ahead. The asphalt beneath it had collapsed, throwing up a cloud of dust, plunging the seventy-ton tank into a pothole deep enough to partially bury it. It blocked the way completely, the trees to either side of the Valbaran highway forming a dense wall that boxed them in.

“Goddamn it,” the sergeant growled, one finger on the side of his helmet. “The road has given out. What the fuck did the L.T expect, using highways that haven’t been maintained in thirty years? It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“What do we do?” Hernandez asked.

“Just sit tight,” the sergeant replied, settling back into his seat. “It’s probably going to take a recovery lander to lift that thing out of there. Nothing we can do but sit around until then.”

One of the Marines reached under his chair for his pack, fishing inside for an MRE. He tore open the packet, then raised his visor, starting to rummage through the contents.

“If anyone needs to take a piss, now is probably a good time,” the sergeant announced. He signaled for the crew to open the ramp, a few of the Marines rising from their seats, stretching their legs. Hernandez nudged Evan, and he followed him down the ramp, the Jarilans leading the way so as not to block the exit.

As he stepped out into the sunlight, Evan saw that many of the other IFVs were unloading, the Marines milling about nearby. A few of the tank commanders had opened their cupolas and were using their height to get a better look at the blockage ahead. Evan turned to glance at the lead Kodiak, the dust starting to clear. Its three-man crew had climbed out and were standing around the crater, helplessly peering down at their disabled vehicle.

“They’re not gettin’ that fucker out of there any time soon,” Hernandez chuckled, popping open his visor. He pulled an e-cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a button press before raising it to his lips.