Michael Siemsen: Exigency

She glanced toward her console. “I think this is it! Let’s transfer the SSKs into the backpacks! You loaded?”

John replied affirmative as they hastily extracted the compressed gray packs, expanded them, and dumped the surface survival kit contents inside. Each connected their suits to the EV water tubes, and pumped the fluid into their suits’ veins until full—a theoretical three days’ worth of hydration and sustenance.

“Hey.” Minerva touched his arm. “I don’t want to be eaten to death.”

John knew what she meant and snapped a nod. “Same here.”

Tubes disconnected, packs on, and the last remnants of protection disintegrating around them, they turned to each other. As Minnie shouted the plan’s bullet points, they checked that ammo packs were secured to suits, backpack straps taut, and then shared a brief, silent gaze that conveyed more than words could express.

“Ready,” Minerva said.

“Ready,” John said.

Hissing emanated from the frame as pressure built in the hatch’s emergency release system. John lay ready, the flare gun aimed at the top of the hatch. Minnie stood at the back of the cabin on the ledge above the seats, multiweapon aimed at what would soon be the center of a wide opening. She hoped the ejecting door would take out a generous portion of Hynka, while stunning the rest.

The lack of information was infuriating. If she’d been the Hynka lead, she’d have had every seemingly trivial behavior detail logged. Then again, maybe Ish did have all that, but kept it to herself. Minnie’s mild dislike of Ish continued inflating with high-pressure hatred.

The hatch paused, a low tone ringing around them. Maybe it couldn’t blow anymore, the edges so warped and twisted or obstructed by—and then it blew.

John blared through the PA, “ Khoh! ”

The sounds and scents of the outside streamed in. Shrieks, grunting, hisses. Cool, wet, fertile, pungent.

John’s flare gun discharged with an echoing twang, the phosphorescent red stream flying off in an arc, drips of frothy glowing clumps falling behind it. Minnie watched with her thermal optic as Hynka heads all moved in sync, following the path of the flare. The horde quickly fell silent. John snatched up the MW from his chest and aimed it out the hatch.

Hynka sounds slowly resumed—quiet at first—their breathy, hiss-and-throat-heavy voices seeming to debate the flare as it disappeared beyond the tips of starlit foliage. The two hulking creatures at either side of the hatch turned to each other, exchanged words, and then snapped their attention back into the EV.

Minnie began hyperventilating. The things were less than a meter from John’s feet, 2.5m from her, and even more terrifying in person. Most grew beyond 3m tall, the largest specimens nearing 4m, even with their hunched postures—like mega-sized gorillas, with two rows of serrated teeth hidden within tapered gatoresque snouts. As the purple-black figures reached toward John, Minnie still doubted whether their thick leathery flesh could be penetrated by the multirounds.

Only one way to know…

She aimed at the one on the right and squeezed the trigger.

Following plan, John fired at the one on the left. Both creatures reacted with the same stunned confusion. They halted in place, swaying, and regarded their midsections as if inspecting a newfound stain on a shirt. Broad fingers probed in and around the penetration points.

“Ehswah och!” spoke the one on the right, and pounded its chest before collapsing backward into a seated position.

The other injured Hynka faltered and tripped in place, held up by those nearby. An eerie calm spread through the crowd. Deep, hushed voices seemed to gossip as necks craned to see what was happening.

“Smaller one in the middle there,” Minnie said. “He’s eyeing you and puffing up.”

“I see him. Watch for any others.”

“They’re acting really odd,” she said. “Not retreating at all… waiting. What do we do?”

“Just go with it. We only shoot if they’re coming at us.”

Minnie watched through thermal as the smaller Hynka, a bit taller than John, sucked in a final breath, and dug its blunt foot claws into the moist soil. “Watch it, he’s coming!”

It spread out its long, bulbous arms, snorting and shoving back those around it, then charged straight for the pod opening. Minnie and John both fired. A second round when it didn’t stop. John fired a third projectile just as it began slowing, mitts clutching at its chest. That same confusion. It labored to breathe, struck its chest, spun a little and fell on its front.

“We should step out,” John said. “I think now’s the time. A sign of strength, before they start thinking all this over.”

“Before they start testing again,” Minnie agreed.

John slowly pulled himself to his feet and stood right in the doorway. Minnie could hear the breathing and whispers of the mob. Her breath went shallow. She fought to uncurl her fingers from the handhold behind her, the pseudo-safety of the EV nearly gone. John lifted a leg over the threshold and planted his boot on the ground.

One small meal for Hynkakind, she thought.

John panned the MW across the expanding circle of creatures, slowly inching backward.

“Keep an eye on the ones on the ground,” Minnie said, doing the same. All three appeared to still be alive, only incapacitated.

Minnie stepped out beside him just as one of the Hynka to their left advanced a single pace out of its group, arms crossed against its chest. John aimed his MW.

“Ahh crap,” she whispered. “Testing?”

“Just keep your eyes on that side. Even if this one charges.”

The cross-armed Hynka called out, “Khow ayk!”

Minnie watched her side. The Hynka were no longer backing away, just rocking side to side, eyes intent on the pair. “What did it say?”

“No idea.”

“Got a snappy retort?” Minnie asked. “Something that says, ‘Whatever you just said, I’m still the boss.’”

“I could shoot him.” John kept walking, one leg after the other.

“Just continue moving that way. Keep therm up in case anyone’s hiding in the vegetation. I’ll watch out for all the ones behind the EV. They may not have witnessed our impressive display firsthand.”

“Got it,” John said.

As they moved, the crowd continued to retreat and part. Once passed, the Hynka regrouped and followed slowly behind, Minnie holding her MW at the ready. At any moment one of them might shriek a command and everyone would charge. If they did, Minnie and John wouldn’t have a chance. This was the highest stakes bluff ever.

“Watch your step,” John warned, and Minnie glanced back to see the strewn heaps of dead Hynka—still warm severed limbs, jutting ribcages, ivory blood.

“They’re going to keep following us,” she said, stepping over a leg. “Once we’re in the thick, we’ll have to stop that… somehow.”

“I know.”

John and Minnie continued on through the throngs, back to back, each scanning their own 180 perimeter. 10m from the EV, 30m, 50m. Eventually, the horde thinned and gave way to immense blades of foliage.

As she predicted, the pack followed.

“I have an idea,” Minnie said. “Try your ‘stop’ again. Through your suit’s PA.”

“Okay, and if they keep coming, we shoot one?”

“Exactly. And then you say it again. I have a feeling you won’t have to say it three times.”

John glanced back at her. “Then what?”

“Just say it. Loud.”

John faced the advancing rank, stood tall, and shouted, “Khoh!” then resumed walking away with Minnie.