They hunkered down like that for the better part of a day, waiting for the storm to end. Unfortunately, there was no end in sight as the wind howled on and on, constantly threatening to blow the walls of their tents down. The ground had only gotten muddier and wetter, and it was a losing struggle to stay dry. The tarps that they would normally lay on the ground were being used to transport the bodies, and the backups just weren’t enough. They slowly became caked in mud and wet filth, which defeated the purpose of waiting out the storm. The pods would be much drier than this and would offer better protection from wildlife as well.

  Apparently Gulliman agreed with Daniel, and after 18 hours of waiting, they started marching again. Still, it was dangerous to travel in the rain. Their Adaptability wasn’t quite high enough that the risk of hypothermia or other sickness could be discounted. But more importantly, there was no telling what creatures lurked in the darkness, unbothered by the weather. Truth be told, the men were too uncomfortable to think about all that as they packed up their things, minds focused on the simple tasks of sticking together and putting one boot in front of the other.

  Were it not for the Waypoint, they would have been totally lost. Their Codices had marked the coordinates of the CO’s pod, and each man mentally lasered in on the floating blue point on their HUD as they slogged forward. Hours flowed like molasses as the Pioneers navigated the dense jungle, and Daniel barely realized it when they finally reached the pod, to the point that he nearly ran into its gunmetal grey doors. Gulliman opened those doors, and everyone resisted the urge to pile inside. Instead, the men carrying the bodies went in one by one, laying their precious cargo down before backing out. There was nowhere near enough room for the whole squad in one pod, so most of them had to content themselves with sitting outside, awaiting further orders. When the delivery was finished, Gulliman turned on his Codex’s light and took stock of the group. They huddled in a semi-circle around the boss, dying to be dismissed and given permission to go look for their own pods, but the next words out of Gulliman’s mouth weren’t a dismissal, but a question: “Where’s Johnson?”

  …

  They spent the next few minutes searching for Johnson before someone had the presence of mind to check their group status in the Codex. His yell of shock prompted the whole group to do the same, and Daniel felt a chill run down his back that had nothing to do with the rain:

  Value of Group Storage:

  559,823 Credits {43,068 Recoverable}

  …

  Group Size: 12/20

  Group Quota: 1,757,788 Credits {Less Recovered Val} (NOT MET)

  Personal Quota: 146,482 (NOT MET)

  12/20. Not 13/20. The Codex’s were well trained in recognizing the deaths of their hosts, so barring extraordinary circumstances, Johnson was dead. Once the Pioneers realized that, they dropped back into another group huddle. This time they faced outward staring into the stormy darkness with naked terror. Eventually, the sergeant took charge of the situation: “Pioneers! DO. NOT. PANIC. We don’t know what happened to Johnson. He may have wandered off and fallen off a cliff. Standing around won’t help anything. We’ll proceed as planned. Take shelter in the pods.”

  Daniel noticed a slight quiver of fear in the sergeant’s voice at the end, but they all did as they were told. The sergeant would stay with the bodies as the smaller teams moved out to the pods they came in on. Daniel, the Dunid, and O’Riley had all come in together, but Daniel was surprised to see Jordan follow behind their group as well, running up to join them. In preemptive answer to Daniel’s unasked question, Jordan said: “Mind if I join you boys? I came in with Gulliman, and I enjoy his company only a little more than the corpse’s. Maybe a little less.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Jordan still held that grudge, it seemed. Daniel didn’t need to say anything, his approval implicit. The Dunid vibrated in approval and O’Riley chuckled dryly: “Fine by me, blondie.”

  Levity aside, it was a nerve-wracking thing to split up and move out into the dark, without the protection of a larger group. The Pioneers fortunately didn’t have to walk for too long before they reached the pod and finally stumbled to safety, sighing in relief as they did. The insides were cramped, musty smelling and largely barren. These were cheap transport tools, totally utilitarian. They felt like heaven to the beleaguered Pioneers for one reason and one reason only: They were dry. The Pioneers changed into dry clothes and turned on the climate control, its luxury only present to prevent them from freezing to death if the ship jettisoned them at high altitudes. Another round of relieved sighs broke out as the hot air began to circulate.

  The storm continued to boom outside, rain relentlessly drumming atop their tiny sanctuary, but it became a cozy sound now that they had some real shelter. Jordan and O’Riley spent some time talking, mostly about their personal lives. Jordan had grown up a hunter on the frozen planet of Crucia, learning to track, kill and skin game before he’d even hit puberty. Hunting was a way of life on that poor, wild planet, and it was rather well known for producing some of the best Pioneers the Imperium possessed. Jordan had acquired quite a few good hunting stories in his time, and he regaled them with some of them, all exaggerated for effect of course. O’Riley’s first name was Devin, and he’d been a manual laborer on one of the factory planets, Torsan. He had a big family, with plenty of mouths to feed, but they got along with the income provided by the older man and his two elder sons. That was before his eldest died in an industrial accident, leaving Devin and his 14-year-old kid scrambling to pay the bills on their incomes alone. It had gotten bad enough that the man decided to roll the dice on becoming a Pioneer.

  Ever stoic, O’Riley had kept most of the details of his life hidden on that first night of the expedition, but Jordan wheedled them out of him with his typical charm. Daniel was happy just to listen, but he felt a twinge of sorrow as he did. O’Riley’s story reminded him vividly of poor Alvin. Most of these men were in worse condition than him, Daniel mused, reflecting on how he’d just wanted Lucy to live a prosperous life at her full potential when he’d decided to enlist. He didn’t feel like that made him somehow wrong, but it did hammer home the fact that the others had more than just their own lives on the line. That realization sparked another desire, a simple one.

  He wanted them all to make it back. Everyone.

  It wasn’t a general “Yeah, that’d be nice” kind of feeling, but a genuine sense of solidarity, as if their mission had become a part of his own. The semi-protective instinct he felt toward them in that moment seemed silly, almost na?ve. He was just an 18-year-old kid. But it burned hot all the same, flowing through the veins with the full force of adrenaline. Silently, as Jordan drew stories about his kids out of the old man, Daniel stewed on these feelings. Next to him, the Dunid vibrated softly. He looked up and into the simple dark eyes of his fuzzy companion, who looked down at him questioningly. Daniel patted the big guy on the chest, saying quietly: “Nothing to worry about pal. Just thinking.”

  The Dunid hummed comfortingly, and the hours passed by in peace after that. They were soon forced by their weary bodies to get some sleep, though there wasn’t much room to lie down, obviously. They instead elected to sleep standing up, leaning against the Dunid’s furry body for support with the big guy’s consent. It was surprisingly comfortable, and Daniel was off to sleep almost immediately, lulled into dreamland by the rumble of thunder outside and the steady breathing of his friends beside him.

  It felt like no more than a moment of unconsciousness before Daniel was jerked awake by the *ping* of his notification system. Eyes bleary with sleep, he squinted at the text that came up on his HUD. Bafflingly, it was a dark gold instead of a light blue:

  “Warning: Possible Enemy Detected”

  That message got him awake. He shifted a little, suddenly alert and aware, ears perked up. Daniel sat like that, body tense as the minutes ticked by, and then he heard it.

  A long scraping sound shrieked out from outside the door, echoing throughout the pod and jerking the others awake. It grated against Daniel’s ears, and he hastily summoned his revolver and aimed it at the door, turning on his Codex’s light to make sure he wouldn’t shoot one of his comrades. The eerie blue light illuminated the pale faces of the humans and the startled eyes of the Dunid as they stared in trepidation at the origin of the noise. Daniel’s heart hammered in his ribs as the sound rang on, goosebumps shivering to life on his back. The scratching got worse, an insistent screeching as something tested their defenses. Suddenly, it stopped nearly as abruptly as it started. The sudden silence was nearly as terrifying as the scratching, the sound of blood pumping through their veins deafening in the absence of screeching. They held their breaths for a subjective eternity, staring wild-eyed at the doors, before they finally gave a tentative exhale: “What was that?”

  Daniel thought fearfully, searching the faces of his friends in question. They didn’t have any answers for him either, the men staring back at him in a confusion that mirrored his own. The other two men had summoned their rifles, though they were of limited use in the tight confines. No one dismissed their weapons as they held their vigil, waiting for something to happen. An hour passed, then two, and they all began to marginally relax. Maybe it was just a wayward tree branch?

  Then the screaming started.