When Carson dropped into the smoking stumps of foliage, the heavy air was almost too much for him and he gagged. He had never breathed anything that humid and the rich scent of plant life was so strong that it overwhelmed the stench of the crater. Looking out from the LZ the dropship had created, luscious green trees, taller than buildings, surrounded him on all sides and he stared in amazement. This had to be what heaven looked like.
"This air better not be toxic," Larue growled over the mike. Of all his men, Larue was the one that Carson expected to have gotten fragged first. The man was an ex-operative who had screwed up (probably because he was a complete asshole) and got shipped off to duty on Dante. What Carson and the rest of the squad thought of as an honorable career, the bastard thought of as punishment and made no bones about it. Maybe they'd all get lucky and this could be Larue's last trip out. For a few seconds, the Sergeant considered arranging it, but then thought it was best if his men took the initiative. That way he would have deniability, not that anyone above him cared enough to ask.
"If it were, you'd be dead by now and saving us the headache."
That came from Maxwell, the squad medic, and the only member of the group that everyone liked. "Mad Max" like they called him, was blessed when it came to avoiding harm and was always there when someone went down. Granted he usually couldn't do much about it considering the weaponry, but he was still there for support and it mattered. He was the group's good luck charm and had been with Carson for over a year.
"Alright squad, formation," Carson said as the Dropship roared off and vanished over the canopy. He extended his arm to give the order and the group spread out into a line with Foss in front. "Foss, lead us to the beacon and Jackson, stick with me."
Coddling the new kid wasn't a good idea, but Carson figured that he deserved a chance and wanted to give him one. Maybe he was just tired of seeing recruits die, or maybe the kid reminded of the son he had left back on Mort five or so years ago. Shrugging it off, he concentrated on the mission. There wasn't any time for sentimentality and the rule was simple: new meat isn't worth a damn until they've been around a while.
As the soldiers left the clearing, the light dimmed into dusk and the ground became soft under their boots. Instead of the tranquil silence he expected, the forest was loud with the sounds of life around them. Insects of all types and colors crawled across the ground and up trees and Carson involuntarily itched under his armor. The hot, humid air only made it worse and breathing was more difficult here than when they had landed. It looked like the men were all having the same thoughts and someone broke the radio silence.
"If anybody has asthma, you're shit out of luck," someone said with a cough.
"Can the chatter," came the reply and the group continued moving.
It was truly an alien world with overwhelming beauty. For a kid that had grown up in lower downtown, seeing the sky for the first time when he first shipped out was what Carson had considered his greatest thrill. Now the living landscape around him eclipsed it and he pulled out a camera to click off a few shots as he walked. No one would ever believe him without them and he'd never forget it.
The hike through the trees took about ten minutes before the tree cover began to thin and the light returned. As he was enjoying the return of the sky, a crackle came across the mike.
"Uh, Sarge," Foss's voice said. "I think you better see this."
Carson worked his way down the line, stomping through mounds of compost and bugs until he found Foss. What he saw took his breath away and he wiped at his mouth.
"What do you think it is?" Foss asked.
In the distance, a massive stone pyramid rose upward from the ground, pushing back the forest to punch a hole through the canopy. Standing taller than a six-story building, Carson thought of the one in Mort central and pulled his binoculars to get a better look. Beyond the swaying foliage, nothing moved in front of them and he saw a huge opening on one side.
"I don't have a clue," he answered. "But maybe the civies we're expecting will tell us something."
"They're sending civies out here?" someone asked and Carson patted Foss on the shoulder to send the man on.
"Yeah, some sort of survey team," he answered, regaining his focus. "Maybe they're here to make sure Tak doesn't accidentally blast something."
"Sir, Fuck you Sir," came the reply and he smiled as he started forward. He had known over half of these men for over six months and it was sheer luck that any of them had lived that long. That and the fact that they had only seen light combat and had never been on the front line. They found the beacon quickly and it was planted firmly in the ground in front of the structure.
"Looks like this is it. Team one flank right and Team left with me. Advance and cover on my mark."
The troopers divided and Carson guided his through the trees, quickly finding himself in a field of wide-leafed plants. They slapped at him as he went past and water - clear water, poured off of them onto his shoulders. Stopping, he carefully cupped a leaf to his mouth and drank, surprised at the taste. It was the first water he had ever seen or tasted that he couldn' t smell and he smiled. Yes, this definitely had to be heaven and he wondered again why they were here.
The structure loomed above him as they advanced and Carson caught the movement of birds or something else near its peak. Whatever it was, it vanished into the harsh glare of the sun and he blinked away to clear his vision. If it were hostile, they'd know soon enough and he concentrated on his footing instead. The terrain changed and what had been high foliage soon became rocky and harsh, with sharp rocks jutting up from a bed of moss like teeth. He winced when he scraped his hand, but thanked his luck because he didn't find anything worse. This would have been a great area to place a booby trap and he made a mental note to have Larue go looking for more by himself.
The scent of the tiny white flowers was stronger as they mounted the slope and the Sergeant found himself in a field of them. Fighting the urge to sneeze, he squatted and took in the scenery. Before him was a tall rectangular opening like the one he had seen on the other side, but he had to be close to appreciate it's size. The door (if it was a door) stood at least eighteen feet high and was wide enough to drive a tank through. Cautiously, he gave the signal to enter and led the way in from his side.
"This thing has to be from the Conflict Wars, "he thought to himself. "I've never seen anything like it."
"What in hell is this place?" someone asked but no one answered.
The pyramid was much larger on the inside than it appeared to be and the closest comparison Carson could come up with was a gymnasium. Every surface was made of smooth seamless brown stone that slanted upward into high perfect peaks. Low angular alcoves broke up the walls and he expected that they probably lead to other sections. What caught his attention were a series of markings along one of the wall and he moved in for a closer look as the men covered him.
When he got close, he saw that the markings were actually carvings on in the stone. They were as deep as his hand and appeared to be symbols, perhaps even an alien language. As he stared and ran his hand across them, Carson felt something twist in his gut and climb up his spine. Something was watching him and he turned in a full circle, suddenly feeling exposed. "Vulnerable" came to mind again and he spat.
"It's deserted, sir," a voice said from his elbow and he turned with a jerk. It was Jackson speaking and the motion tracker the newbie carried was only showing the soldiers.
"Don't trust gadgets too much, kid. I want a team-by-team sweep through the side rooms but don't touch anything. This might be a ruin from the Conflict Wars and there's no telling what could happen. Leave it for the civies to find the booby traps."
A half hour later, the sweep was finished and Carson's men hadn't found anything but more empty rooms and more carvings on the walls. What really unnerved him was that there was absolutely no debris, furniture, or even moss inside the structure even though it was a jungle on all sides. That goosed the hair on the back of his neck and he paced before gathering his men along the slope. Having lived through everything he had, he never questioned his instincts and that meant that this place had to be both unnatural and dangerous.
At his order, Phillips placed the "all clear" code and ten minutes later, a sonic boom and explosions rumbled through the trees in the distance. A black pall of smoke rose over the canopy and a flock of what might have been birds lifted into the weird blue sky. Carson had never seen a blue sky before today and the wisps of white made him think of a cake's icing.
"Sir, LZ Bravo is two thousand meters bearing two-one-zero-seven," Phillips reported. "They've just landed."
"Alright then, Gibson, Parker, Jackson, Martin. You're with me. The rest of you, take up a position and shoot anything that moves if it ain't us. Phillips, tell Corro to stay on station in case we need a quick extraction. Something just doesn't feel right."
"Sir, what do you think is going on?" Jackson asked as he stumbled after him.
"I don't know Private, but let's go ask our guests."
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