Parasite Lost

Parasite Lost Chapter 1

The cabin of the transport vessel smelled like old grease and burned oil, probably because it hadn't been serviced in too long and was designed for light vehicle transport instead of troop sorties like this one. Auxiliary lighting cast a dark red shade over the area and killed most of the shadows, making the already cramped space feel claustrophobic. The straps and crash webbing hanging from the ceiling didn't help either.

"So, Up-eight, what brings you to a backwater like this?" Bren asked with his most charming smile. They could all hear his voice clearly through the team's comm pieces despite the rumble of the transport's engines.

"It's pronounced Ah-pah-tay, and you can mind your own business," Apate replied.

"Armed with a sniper rifle and sass, I like it."

"Interesin' piece you've got there. Is that Merder hardware?" Alistair asked, pointing to Dante's shotgun.

"Yes sir, designed by Ares Merder himself," Dante replied as he turned over his weapon with pride. It was a custom job with shells like soda cans and shot like marbles.

Bren scoffed next to him.

"That old coot is dead," he said.

"His body is, yeah," Dante replied.

"When I was in th'marines they sometimes gave us those for small ship-to-ship skirmishes. Not as big and fancy as that one, but similar. They were less likely t'pierce th'hull and suck everyone out into space," Alistair said as he made small talk.

"Semper vigilo, brother," Dante said with a respectful nod. Alistair nodded back.

"Are you some kind of fisherman?" Apate asked as she gestured to the harpoons on Bren's forearms.

"Nah, my old man was though. Till he became a felon anyway," Bren replied.

"How does a fisherman become a felon?" Dante asked.

"By hunting endangered kraken and killing the coast guard," Bren said.

"How do you hunt a kraken? Do those little batteries actually do anything?" Apate asked, eyeing the shocking mechanism bolted next to the winches on his forearms.

"You latch on with the harpoons and pull yourself onto the big ugly buttheads and stick explosives into their brain," Bren said, "I added the shock batteries for funsies."

"Watch your language mate, there are ladies aboard," Alistair said with a smirk.

"I'm on probation, no potty talk for me," Bren said as he pointed to the cranial bomb grafted to the back of his skull.

"It seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Apate said.

The four of them sat in silence as they neared their destination. There were no windows to look out and certainly no in-flight catalog for them to peruse. They hit a pocket of turbulence and everyone double-checked their restraints. Low thumps came from outside and hundreds of tiny objects plinked against the hull as the vessel shuddered once more.

"Why d'we do this crazy shite?" Alistair asked, more to himself than anyone in particular.

"Don't know why you're here, but I'm here for the check," Dante responded before he put a penlight in his teeth to look down the ejection port of his massive shotgun. The weapon looked more like a tool for large mining operations than personal protection.

"Ok moneybags, I'm sure between your sponsorships, the box office, and your old man you need the cash," Bren said.

"A guy's gotta put food on the table," Dante shrugged.