Stranded on a Tiny Planet
Chapter 39: Dangerous Mission

Cresh was leaning back in his pilot chair reading a digital novel and chewing on a toothpick. Behind him, Gurt was already asleep in his bunk, hissing rhythmically. Hiding out from the law was usually a boring state to be in unless they were consumed with repairs or trying to prevent themselves from being killed. This planet was pretty boring but their sensors were trained heavily into space just in case the law came their way.

Suddenly the annoying sound of the proximity alarm startled both mercenaries alert.

Cresh put down his tablet and touched the screen in front of him to pull up the proximity alarm readouts, “Hello? What have we here?”

The infrared cameras and lights of the ship activated, seeking the intruder that tripped the alarm. However, the scanners were dark.

Gurt growled in the back, “What’s that? I thought you said this planet was uninhabited?”

Cresh frowned, shrugged, and then deactivated the search protocols, “Hm. Don’t see anything on the sensors. Probably just saw some indigenous lizards running around out there.”

The Gret’nal flicked his tongue, “Those weren’t half bad.”

Cresh grimaced not thinking the idea of eating raw lizards was a particularly appetizing idea, “Isn’t that a bit like cannibalism for you?”

Gurt hissed slightly but grumbled, “Meat is meat.”

“Oh, I don’t judge Gurt.” Cresh replied leaning back in his chair again to resume his pastime. “Murder for hire, assassinations, kidnapping, extortion, armed robbery...what’s adding cannibalism to that list?”

The silence resumed for a bit until again the proximity alarm was triggered again. Cresh checked the cameras but saw nothing and went back to reading. Then it went off for a third time. Cresh gave a very annoyed look, dropping his tablet from his face. Something was out there tripping their proximity alarm and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to stop unless he scared off whatever it was.

“Gurt, would you be a dear and replace out what is tripping our proximity alarm?” Cresh asked in a sardonic tone.

“Do it yourself.” The Gret’nal grumbled.

The white-skinned alien sighed flipping his Mohawk, “Fine. Fine. I’ll go check. But you might miss out on some tasty midnight lizard snacks.”

Gurt’s head leaned back a bit and his lip curled in a snarl but he pushed himself up and stomped over to the ramp gate. He slapped the button and it lowered the ramp with a flash of lights and a hiss of hydraulics.

...

It took about three tries for the saboteur/distraction team to get the mercenaries to come out. Per Merco’s instruction they would replace the sensor lenses at various points outside the ship, fly in front of them very close, and trigger them. Then when the alarm went off inside they hid behind the sensor against the metal plating so it wouldn’t detect them. They were small enough the sensors couldn’t detect them unless they popped right in front of them.

Underneath the ship the weapon retrieval team, led by Traynar, had concealed themselves behind the massive landing pads that supported the vessel. Anxiously, they waited for the ramp to lower. Finally, the ship shuddered and a loud groan of mechanical parts signaled the door’s opening. With a quaking bang the huge platform settled on the ground, creating a huge metal wall above them. A light poured forth onto the ground and was bisected by a thick dark shadow. Seconds after impact they heard the heavy, metallic booms of impossibly big footsteps descending the ramp. The sand seemed to jump when the titanic mercenary’s foot hit the ground, grinding in a slow turn before walking around the ramp toward the front of the ship.

Traynar took a steadying breath. It was hard to fathom something could be bigger than Merco but as the figure passed them unaware, it was evident why Merco needed a weapon. He wasn’t wrong in saying the Gret’nal looked like a sand dragon on two legs. Its impossibly thick neck humped over massive shoulders and bristling with spikes, attested its enormous strength. It had to be two heads taller than Merco himself and was covered in rough, bumpy hide akin to a sand dragon. The flash of its yellow eyes against the dark night sent chills through Traynar. No doubt it was the monster that attacked the Rogashay settlement and left such utter carnage behind.

When the huge lizard-like behemoth stomped out of sight, Traynar signaled two members of his team to position themselves so they could watch the other mercenary inside. The two scouts flew to either side of the ramp, out of sight and peeked. After a moment they gave the all clear signal. Traynar nodded and members of the saboteur team, Anu included, flew up into the crevices just above the hydraulic lifts. Merco had told them to disconnect the wires that led to motor that powered the hydraulics of the door and that would stop it without damaging the door. A busted hydraulic line would ruin his chances to fly the ship off the planet for sure. Wires could be reconnected.

The saboteurs were going to wait until the Gret’nal returned and shut the ramp. They would then disconnect the lines just before the door shut so it would be closed enough that mercenaries couldn’t get out but the Ansheetans and the weapon they stole could get through. This would give them a chance to get away even if they were seen.

Traynar conferred with the two scouts who signaled “clear”. He gestured and the weapon retrieval team cautiously but quickly flew into the ship, ducking close to the walls to hide. Luckily, there were lots of different objects to hide behind and underneath.

The inside of the ship was gigantic. Never had any of them seen a machine of such size. Traynar was pretty sure the whole of Anashee’s city could fit inside if it was stretched out. Far away was the front of the ship which dipped down to a whole other space domed with glass. A large pilot chair dominated the space with what looked like hundreds of panels and buttons surrounding it. Over the top of the chair they could see the tall, dark blue Mohawk of the pilot and a part of his elbow leaning on the armrest. He wasn’t looking in their direction at all.

Traynar and the others glanced around, searching for a weapon they would be able to lift and get to Merco. It wasn’t hard to replace the weapons as they were mounted up high in a high-tech rack against both bulkheads further in. Various strange alien weapons of every size and design that were completely unfamiliar to the Ansheetans. Carefully and silently the group flew up against the bulkheads and slipped in behind the weapons and their rack.

It was in that moment that Traynar realized their task was much more difficult than he’d first anticipated. Not only were the weapons much bigger but each one was clipped securely into the rack. They had at least thirty in their squad but the way the weapons were secured Traynar knew they wouldn’t be able to push even the smallest weapon out of its clip much less prevent it from hitting the floor and giving themselves away.

It was almost looking like they wouldn’t be able to get a weapon when suddenly one of their number made a gesture to a ledge near the bunks further in. Traynar leaned outward and spotted what looked like a large sheathed blade of some kind a few feet behind the pilot’s chair. Merco had said a “gun” would be the best choice of weapon but the “guns” appeared inaccessible so it would have to be the knife.

Traynar made a sharp gesture with his hand and crest and the Ansheetans all silently flew across the ship until they were underneath the ledge up against the wall and under the second bunk.

They all froze when the pilot spoke sharply in an alien language similar to Merco’s, “What’s out there Gurt?”

The graveled voice of the Gret’nal responded over the speaker, “I don’t see anything. Probably a glitch.”

The pilot sighed, “I’ll do a maintenance scan then.”

A low thrum seemed to pass through the ship after the pilot pressed a few buttons but he remained unaware of the EFP’s presence. Traynar wasn’t sure if they’d be able to move the knife with the mercenary sitting nearby; even if his back was turned.

Suddenly a quick, warning whistle from one of their scouts made the group freeze again. The other mercenary was coming back! Traynar swore to himself. They needed more time!

Quite abruptly a loud beeping echoed throughout the ship and the pilot leaned forward in his chair, “Gurt! What shit are you doing out there?”

“What?”

“Our sensors just went dark! What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

The pilot gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from his seat, “If our sensors are down then anyone can sneak up on us! Ugh. I have to do everything around here!”

With curt steps the thin, white-skinned pilot passed the bunk, grabbed a light and what looked like a metal suitcase from the wall, and trotted down the ramp out of the ship.

Traynar sighed. The saboteur team must’ve done something to the ship outside to lure the other mercenary out. Now was their chance.

Traynar watched their two hidden scouts near the ramp until they signaled “all clear”.

“Come on. Let’s do this.” He whispered, flying up onto the ledge where the huge knife lay.

It was at least as long as a sand dragon’s body minus the tail and constructed of what looked like metal and another black material. The thirty or so members all landed on the ledge, spacing themselves out around the huge weapon. In speedy fashion, several magnetic straps were spanned under and around the weapon and each Ansheetan took an end. When they were ready they counted off and all lifted. It was heavy for them since Ansheetans were not known for raw strength. The straps made it easier but as they all began to hover off of the ledge it was evident that it was going to be a long float to the ramp.

They’d gotten past the first bunk and were almost to the second when the scouts whistled another warning.

Traynar flicked his crest rapidly, signaling them to lower the weapon to the ground under the first bunk and quickly the group did. They all seemed to collectively gasp from the exertion but held their breath when the tremors of footsteps rattled the floor. The ship itself seemed to rock a bit against the tremendous reptilian form that ascended the ramp. No one moved. No one made a sound.

The Gret’nal was grumbling a deep growl under this breath as he all but filled the space inside the ship. His huge heavy boots swung past the bunk a moment, shaking everything as they stepped. Every Ansheetan was ducked down as small as they could get under the bunk; the knife resting among them. Ducking down under the cabin roof the Gret’nal looked at the monitors a moment.

The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, “Tell me if you see the sensors come online again.”

“Piece of shit ship.” The humanoid dinosaur growled.

“Well if you hadn’t killed our last maintenance guy we might’ve been able to take her in for a tune up at the space port.” Cresh snarked, his voice strained as if he was working in a tight space.

Gurt huffed and argued, “Bastard wouldn’t pay up for those stolen parts.”

“True...but we could’ve at least gotten a tune up before you ripped his arms off.” Cresh sighed, “You need to be less impulsive and see the bigger picture Gurt.”

“Whatever. Guy was a flake anyway.”

There was a long pause. Gurt leaned on the pilot chair making it creak as he watched the monitors.

The Ansheetans kept up their silence and stillness from under the bunk, not wishing to gain that monster’s attention in any manner. Traynar watched him intently and then glanced at the knife they were trying to get outside. He vaguely wondered if it would be enough to pierce the armored hide of that beast. Surely it had soft spots.

“Huh.” Cresh mused over the speaker.

“What now?”

“Damndest thing...all the sensor wires were disconnected like someone just unplugged them.” He commented.

Gurt didn’t seem impressed but growled when he saw the monitor light up again, “There. It’s on. I’m going back to bed.”

He turned from the cabin and moved back toward his bunk...which happened to be the first bunk the Ansheetans were hiding under. No one breathed as all the air was sucked out of the group when the huge form sat and settled above them. The padded bunk, which was jutting from the bulkhead, creaked and groaned as if it was pleading against the massive weight that sat on it. Every crest was lowered in terrified submission as the huge, lizard-like alien’s boots disappeared upward and he laid belly down on the bunk, looking every bit like a crocodile resting on the bank of a river.

Traynar grit his dental ridges.

Now what?

They couldn’t move the knife until that monster fell asleep or he’d definitely see them. The other mercenary was going to come back any moment and when he went up the ramp Anu and her saboteur team would leave the door open just enough for them to escape. The problem was if the mercenaries discovered their ship door not closing they’d most likely try to fix it and be right in their path of escape. And they couldn’t hide forever. They’d be caught.

His team looked at him for answers. They knew what was going on too and he could see the dread in their faces. Traynar gestured in a manner that said, “wait”. Whatever they did next was going to have to be fast and desperate indeed if they were going to succeed in their mission.

It wasn’t long before the Mohawked mercenary returned with his light and repair kit. He put away his supplies and hit the ramp closing button. Warning lights flashed as the huge metal door groaned, lifting up slowly.

Traynar signaled fast and the team quickly lifted the knife amid the noise and distraction. Keeping close to the bulkhead, they floated out from under the bunk once the second mercenary passed them.

...

Cresh was muttering to himself as he walked past Gurt’s bunk, “Disconnected...how the hell did they get disconnected? I tell you what Gurt, something weird is going on.” On his way back to his pilot chair, Cresh abruptly looked at the ledge next to his own bunk and stopped, “Where’s my knife?”

“What knife?” Gurt cracked open his yellow eyes and glanced behind him.

“The one I got from our last job...the one made from the pure Czidin steel...worth a shit ton of money?”

“Didn’t touch your knife.” Gurt growled with annoyance, putting his head back down.

But before the Gret’nal could close his eyes they detected movement near the ramp. Automatically his forked tongue flickered out of his mouth to scent.

“Well it’s gone and I know I left it right here.” Cresh continued to complain.

Just then the ramp stopped moving with a metallic squeal. The lights continued to flicker but the door hadn’t shut all the way; only opened a few inches.

“Oh, what...?” Cresh started to gripe when suddenly Gurt was lunging from his bunk toward the ramp.

Cresh recoiled as the Gret’nal all but slithered off of his bunk across the floor, snapped his jaws at something near the ramp, and shook his head a couple times. Cresh could see his knife go flying, hit the bulkhead, and slide right out of the open ramp. Then he saw several flashes of movement fly in fast shots out the open ramp as well; they almost looked like bugs.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Cresh swore.

Gurt swallowed, his tongue licking out over his jaw as he stood back up. But then he seemed distracted and gave a small snap of his jaws and then another. When he turned his head around, still snapping, Cresh noticed a small something dangling from one of the Gret’nal’s protruding teeth.

...

The Ansheetans were straining as they floated the stolen knife along the wall and toward the closing ramp. This was their best chance. They were very nearly to the ramp when Traynar saw the faces of the members of his team floating backward morph from exertion to sheer terror. A tremendous gust of moving air hit them right after an impact tremor. Traynar turned his head to see the horrific sight of the Gret’nal’s gaping, toothy mouth surging toward them with ferocious intent. How something that big could move that fast, Traynar didn’t have time to wonder.

Everything became a slow-motion blur for Traynar. He flinched as a dozen members of his team disappeared into the void of voracious teeth and flesh. Something scraped against Traynar’s back, ripping into his body suit and weapon belt. And then he was jostled so violently he blacked out.

When his senses tried to clear he didn’t see the knife...he didn’t see any of his squadron. His head was swimming in a soup of incoherence as he felt like he was floating. Something hard and textured was against his back. It wasn’t until a hot, humid gust of foul-smelling air ruffled his feathery crest that his instincts broke through his blurred senses. Traynar’s dark eyes turned with dread behind him and were filled with reptilian flesh. He tried to fly away but he was stuck and couldn’t flee. He quickly realized his belt and uniform were hooked by one the Gret’nal’s lower teeth and he was dangling on the outside of his mouth; mere inches from death.

"Oh... Suro’ka help me...” he prayed to the Ansheetan deity.

But he doubted his plea prayer would be answered as the massive wall of powerful jaws parted behind him. Rows of sharp teeth and a cavern of pink saliva covered flesh morbidly greeted his terrified eyes. With a violent snap the immense jaws sought to devour him. He cringed.

I love you Anu...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...

But instead of disappearing into the living abyss behind him he remained snagged outside on the tooth; a mere morsel stuck in the monster’s teeth. Again, the dangerous maw snapped at him...and again, hungrily trying to get him. All Traynar could do was pull and struggle, trying to rip out of his uniform and keep away from his certain doom.

...

Cresh squint his four eyes at the tiny green creature haplessly dangling from Gurt’s tooth. The Gret’nal snapped at it several times before finally the white alien’s quick hand swooped up and snatched the little thing. Gurt animalistically snarled and snapped at his retreating hand. But in an instant an energy projectile pistol was jabbed firmly into the fleshy part of the Gret’nal’s throat. Gurt froze, eyes narrow.

Cresh clucked with his tongue and spoke in a mother-like tone, “[Tsk tsk tsk.] Gurt... I thought we talked about this? NO biting.”

“Give that back.” the Gret’nal growled menacingly even with the pistol aimed for his brain.

“I just want to see what you’ve got here.” The white skinned mercenary stated, twisting the pistol lazily, “Yeah?”

Curling his lip in a nasty snarl the Gret’nal pulled back. Cresh watched him carefully but then smiled. He pulled down his high-tech goggles over his eyes and stared at the tiny creature he held.

“Now...let’s see what we’ve got here.”