[Impregnated] A Dunny Journal

Fan fiction written by our members.
Post Reply
User avatar
Darkblade Bug
Master Gunnery Sergeant
Master Gunnery Sergeant
Posts: 389
Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2007 9:30 am
Location: Aus-farkin-tralia, mate.

[Impregnated] A Dunny Journal

Post by Darkblade Bug » Tue Jul 20, 2010 4:06 pm

Ugh, my head.
It felt like an army of jackjumper ants were having a who's-got-the-biggest-fangs contest inside my skull and a pair had snuck into the backs of my eye sockets. Those two were winning. I clenched my teeth against the pain and reflexively tried to move my hands to hold the aching brainpan. When they didn't respond, I tried opening my eyes. That didn't work either, it was as if they were glued shut. I was pretty freaked out by this stage. I tried moving my hands again, and got some slight movement, but not much. I tried flexing my fingers – that worked, the digits clenched and unclenched sluggishly, as if something had stuck to them and dried. Blood, probably. So I could work my hands, it wasn't a lack of them or dead nerves – my arms were just stuck fast. That meant I was either restrained, or...nope, restrained was about the only explanation I could come up with. I used my tongue, which felt swollen and dry, to lick my lips and tasted something strange. It was like some kind of glue or clay, but strange. My body immediately rejected it, and I tried to spit the taste out. The spittle trailed swiftly down my chin. So I was vertical, then. Upright. Every clue told me more about my situation, so I started to try to find more. I fought through the pain and tried to figure out where the hell I was. It smelled like acid and rotting flesh, and it was far too warm to be comfortable. Fear seemed to hang around me like an old sniper's cloak, and I couldn't shrug it off. I couldn't hear anything, the place was as silent as the grave, bar the endless soft patter of rainfall that I had become so accustomed to over the past week.

Rainfall...that forced my mind back. In the cockpit of the dropship, I remember looking at the co-pilots seat a little bit behind me, and to my right. Jarred had been attacked, some spider-like monster was latched right on his face and it looked like it was going to stay there for quite some time. He was strapped into the co-pilots seat, trying to scrape at the creature with his fingernails as it tried to choke him with its tail. A muffled scream touched my ears as Jarred cried in rage, trying to claw at the creature. It didn't do any good, the bastard was stuck fast. I wanted to go over there and rip the creature the fuck off of him, but I had to concentrate on keeping the dropship in the air, my hands firmly gripping the steering yoke as I glanced out the cockpit window and narrowly avoided a rocky outcrop with a sudden turn to the left. Then I had to avoid a second outcrop on the right. Eventually, I got the ship back under control and set it onto VTOL. It would stay where it was for now, I had to help Jarred. I was fumbling with the restraints keeping me in my seat when a second critter leaped out from the cockpit door right for my face.

I remember its sickly yellow skin and its fleshy underside as clear as I remember drawing my Python and ducking my head down and to the right, the hell out of the way. The little bastard sailed over my head and landed on the dashboard with a wet thump. It paused for a moment, perhaps stunned that it had missed its target. Turning back towards me, it coiled up its legs and tail to leap again. I didn't give it another chance – I put a .357 round straight through it. The heavy revolver bucked in my hand as it discharged its high-velocity round right into the creature's midsection and ploughed on through the flight controls. Oh. Shit. I remember that sickening ozone smell as its blood hit the flight controls. It melted straight through them. Through glass, plastic, wiring, metal mesh, everything in its way. I barely got my legs out of the way before it could burn through those too, and eventually clean through the dropship hull. I still have no idea how I didn't get any of it on me. Not that it helped any, without the flight controls the dropship was fucked like a billionaire at a brothel. The crash and immediate aftermath was all a blur, but I somehow survived with a emergency survival backpack and my Python. I remember thinking that I'd failed the boys on the ground – there was no way they were getting back to the Gallipoli without the dropship that I'd just crashed.

All through the time, there had been that rain. That horrible rain. After I broke the bugger that got Jarred's spine and legs, he decided to get the hell out of the dropship – and ran out into the rain. I still remember that stench of burning flesh and his screams as the rain ate right through him. It was the third most horrible death I have ever seen. The rain just ate holes through him. The first one burned straight through his shoulder and all the way through his arm, before exiting through his wrist. The second one took his left ear. The third one took his nose. I hope he didn't live long. The rain dissected him piece by piece. I couldn't take my eyes off the spectacle the whole time. In mere seconds, my best friend was reduced to a pile of melted goo. The third worst death I have ever seen in half a decade of war. The second one...that one was even more heartbreaking.

Eventually I forced mind back to the present, then my eyelids open and looked around me. There was a faint resemblance to a colony – looked like the interior of an Atmosphere Processing plant. I could see the large letters that told me I was on a floor marked B2, or Sub-basement 2. Down in the real grit of it then, right in the generator itself. Maybe even in the cooling plant. Yes, that'd explain the heat – the coolant would drive the heat outside the pipes into the room. Damn, I was sweating up a storm. There was something horribly wrong with it, though. The walls were slick, black and looked oddly organic, like they had been hand-moulded from clay instead of fabricated from metal in some factory. But from no design I could ever recognize, except from camera feeds taken from Bushranger squad just before they'd all gone MIA. This was no human construction. I kept looking, and started to notice shapes in the walls as my vision cleared. Cocooned into the walls were...people. Most of them wore the overalls of colonists, some had the tank top and jeans of a convict. Some of them were in the signature jellybean camouflage of Australian Marines. Oh god, there were Diggers cocooned in those walls. I immediately recognized Sergeant Jacko, our Section Sergeant. Jacko the Wacko. The pale skin and the playing cards painted on his armour were the only indication – one of those spider-things was attached to his face.

“S...Sarge?” I called out softly, knowing I was in enemy territory. He raised his head in my direction, then the creature on his face wrapped its segmented tail around his throat. He seemed to struggle, but after a few moments he went limp. The bloody drongo had choked him into submission. Next to him was Lance-Corporal Hughsey, from Bushranger. He was dead. His face twisted in an expression of agony that I remembered clearly on Jarred's face. There was a gaping hole where his chest should have been. One of those spider things was on its back at his feet. They were stuck into the walls by the same gluey-stuff that made up the walls. Resin, maybe? Some kind of substance like the stuff bees used in their hives, I guessed. So...the spider things eventually died...then you did? Okay man, think. What is the enemy's objective? Capture everyone in their way. That much was clear from the sheer multitude of cocoons...and eggs. So...so the eggs had something to do with it. Maybe the eggs hatched out those spider things, and the spider things got on your face...then something happened that I didn't know, and they died. Then, your chest exploded.

I tried moving my head downwards and encountered resistance. That explained why I couldn't move, I was cocooned in too. I forced it, and a snap of something breaking could be heard as I looked down. Sure enough, on the floor was a dead spider. How long did I have left? Days? Unlikely, Hughsey looked like he'd been gone a while. Hours, then? Minutes? I tell ya, it's hard coping with the realization that you are dead, and there's nothing you can do about it.

I sighed to myself, and started to count away the seconds till the end of my life.

User avatar
Darkblade Bug
Master Gunnery Sergeant
Master Gunnery Sergeant
Posts: 389
Joined: Sat Aug 04, 2007 9:30 am
Location: Aus-farkin-tralia, mate.

Re: [Impregnated] A Dunny Journal

Post by Darkblade Bug » Tue Jul 20, 2010 4:07 pm

After five minutes, I had confirmed that the spider-things came from the eggs. I saw one of the eggs open up, the top peeling open like petals from a flower. Then the creature crawled out, crawled up the wall and attached itself onto the face of some poor hapless colonist, easy as you please. It had eight legs like a spider, real bony ones, and a long, segmented tail like a spine. It had two fleshy flaps behind the legs, and from inspecting the sarge and the way the flaps inflated and deflated, I'd figured they were air-sacs feeding Jacko oxygen. That made sense. They'd want to keep you alive while they did whatever it was they did. It had pale, almost sickly yellow skin on everywhere except for the underside of its main mass, which didn't have any skin at all. It was like flesh, muscle and flaps, and in the center was a hole with this big tube thing...reminded me of an air tube, but obviously organic instead of plastic. I remember the underside view from when the damned sucker in the dropship had gone for my face. Obviously, they saved the leaping around for when its victim could actually do something about it. Like, for example, in the cockpit of the dropship. I felt sympathy for the colonist who'd gotten a spider facial. At least he was out when it happened. Jarred explained to me how horrible it was when you were awake. The smothering...and the tube it tried to ram down your throat. He had reflected it had been like face-rape. Maybe that was what they did. The fact the same thing had happened to me while I was out for the count wasn't lost on me. I instantly felt powerless and tainted, and the bile rose in my throat before I could stop it, and I chundered all over the floor, the hugger, and the toes of my boots.

Dammit, I couldn't even wipe the spew from my chin. Looking at the macabre horror around me, I positioned my teeth over my lower lip and bit down – hard. This had to be a dream, and I wanted to wake up. This was too horrible, too sick. It wasn't fair and I wanted out. When I felt the blood mixing with the vomit on my lips, I knew this was no dream. My heart hammered as the panic started to set in. I did everything I could to get free of the cocoon, but the bastards had done too good a job sealing me in. I couldn't even grab my knife from my belt. Or my welding torch, which was probably going to be even more useful. I looked down at the pool of my own vomit, and the chunder-covered spider. I could see its shriveled tube thing – a cock, I realized. Crikey, that thing had been down my throat! The self-disgust I felt can't really be described by people who hadn't experienced it. Some damn creature had just strolled up, strapped me down and had its way with my face. Not pleasant. I spat out the blood and bile from my mouth and felt the need to cough. I did so, and yep, more blood. That wasn't a good sign. Whatever had happened to me, it was happening fast. Maybe it was for the best. I was screwed no matter which way I looked at it. I couldn't cope with the present right then, so my mind shut down, and dragged me to the past, to how this had happened. How I'd been captured.

I'd never wished for a Pulse Rifle or working comms more as I'd realized I was alone on a planet so hostile even the rain could kill you. First thing I had done was to try and find a way out that didn't lead into the rain. Eventually, I had to use my welding torch to cut a hole in the dropship hull and get under a rocky outcrop. The acid rain didn't seem to damage the rock any, and that was fine by me. It looked like I was in an outcrop in the face of the mountain I had been orbiting. That meant that Outback Squad, along with the then missing Bushranger Squad and Lieutenant Harry, were further inside. I knew I had to get away from the crash site – whatever that critter that'd melted the ship was probably had friends. The acid-proof coating had worked on the hull fine...but it hadn't been applied to the inside of the ship. Or on Jarred. I remember feeling the unusually hard rock – scraping against it with my knife resulted in a scraped knife and untouched rock – and realizing that if the creatures blood was acid, the stuff might made good armour if it could be mined. I noted it down in the part of my mind labeled 'facts that'll be useful later on' and started to look for a way inside the mountain and back to my mates. I was just a drover, not combat-trained, so all I had was my Python. I remember hoping that the others would find me before more of those spiders did. I was a good shot and my reflexes were off the charts...but I wasn't superman.

It hadn't taken long to find a tunnel entrance – damned mountain was honeycombed with them. Took me half as long to realize that I was in a maze. I did all the tricks to evade pursuit – doubled back, tried to disguise my scent and leave false trails. It was hard, though, without knowing how the creatures perceived the world. I hadn't seen any eyes, so chances were it used smell or vibrations. Probably not hearing, I didn't see any holes where sound could get in. If it sensed by vibration like a snake, it wouldn't need them. If they did...then the only way to avoid getting found was to either stay damn still or just keep ahead of them. I chose the latter, jogging as quickly as I could, my pack slung over one shoulder and my Python kept in my right hand at all times. I'm ambidextrous so it didn't matter what hand I shot with, but with revolvers the ammo ring flicks out to the left, so reloading is easier if you shoot right-handed. Other than my footsteps and breaths, the only sound I could hear was the constant patter from the rain outside, and the only thing I could smell except sweat was the acrid smell of acid, and the odd earthy scent of the rock. I was wearing NVG's so I could see pretty well, but my depth perception was thrown out by the sea of green my vision was shrouded in and I fell in potholes and tripped over little bumps in the rock a couple of times.

That would do hell with my aim...if the muzzle flash from my Python didn't blind me anyway. It beat running blind – the sun was weak as piss on this planet and it was pitch-black in the tunnels. I might have not been running into walls, but I was already lost. I had twenty days worth of food, maybe four days worth of water, and shelter enough to protect me from cold, wind and rain. Just not this rain. It was surprisingly cold in the tunnels, the cold breeze sapped the strength from me, and it wasn't long before I'd put a jumper and camouflage trousers over my one-piece flightsuit. I was going to run until I found something, or until something found me. It would take a day before the latter happened.

My memories were cut off by two voices. The former was high-pitched and sobbing quietly, coming from my left. The latter was from right in front of me.
“Dingo, that you?” The voice asked me, his Queenslander accent making it clear who it was. The sarge, looking shaken but okay.
“You okay, mate?” He asked me, a blond eyebrow already raised, his head cocked to one side. That was typical bloody Jacko, always worrying about everyone else first. We all loved him for it, he was like a father to us...no offense to Harry, but the young officer was even younger than me. Sarge was the bloke we all looked up to.

“Yeah Wacko, I'm in one piece...though not to happy about the whole getting captured and faceraped thing. How are the others?” I responded immediately, wanting to know if we were the only ones captured.
“All of Ranger's here. All KIA. As far as I know Outback's still out there, so's Harry and the 'bot. Where's Jarred.”
“KIA. He took a stroll in the rain.” I responded, trying to hide the sorrow from my face.
“He was a top bloke, Dingo. We'll make sure he gets at least three shitloads of medals when we get out of here.” Jacko said, ever the optimist. So...that meant we had six people out there, and six people in here, four of which were dead. That wasn't good at all. 55% casualties. Fucking brilliant.

“Um...excuse me, misters? Where am I?” A young, tentative voice interrupted our conversation, and I looked to my left, where the voice had come from.

My heart broke into a few dozen pieces.

It was a little girl.

Post Reply

Return to “Aliens Universe Fiction”