Hard Drop Read Free

freely, colliding in gruesome slow motion, the crews of the Conrad and Portnow were a horrible sight. Distended, torn flesh, cracked jaws, and gaping eye sockets, their eviscerated bodies now lay tangled, too many and too mangled to tell one from another. A gallery of tortured flesh floated slowly before them, confirming the worst of the troopers’ suspicions and fears.
    The younger soldier gagged, retched, and looked away, putting a hand out against the container to steady himself. He pulled it away, slick with blood, and vomited.  
    “What is this?!” The older veteran demanded, turning to face the Captain. “What does something like this?”
    The Captain stared, slowly shaking his head, saying nothing. Tyco looked away, willing himself to look anywhere but at the surreally floating mass of flesh, feeling sick to his stomach.
    Something flashed overhead. Tyco wheeled, quickly and angrily, his rifle at his shoulder in an instant. He squinted through his sight, trying to get a clear look at their enemy, but it had disappeared back into the shadows.
    "Cap -" He said, and then stopped abruptly, as a heavy, loud impact jarred the crate to his left, slamming it against the metal floor. He lifted his eyes and stared up into the brilliant light above him.  
    Crouched on top of the crate was a distended, hideous grotesque – a horrifying creature, squatting low on four legs, hissing venomously across the metal deck.
    Even as Tyco swung his rifle, the hiss became a full-blown roar, and the creature leapt, swinging a curved, blood-caked blade down at him.
    Tyco shot instinctively, ignoring the Captain's command and the preferences of the Admiralty with it, emptying his magazine into the leaping horror.
    The bullets slammed home, rocking the creature backwards, slamming it against the crate. Dark blood flew into the thin air, and the creature’s limbs went limp in an instant.  
    Tyco racked his rifle immediately, waiting for the second attack. It didn’t come.
    “Sorry, Cap –“ he said at last, eyes scanning the depths of the bay. “I tried –“
    But the Captain had already pushed forwards, pulling the corpse up from the floor and into the light. Its limbs flailed horribly as it came, rolling unnaturally across the floor and bending backwards upon themselves. Tyco watched as the Captain’s face fell, and his jaw set in bitter disappointment.  
    “You did well, Rookie.” He said to Tyco, and then turned and thrust the corpse towards the veterans. “You wanted to know who did this.” He said. “Take a look.”
    They stepped forwards, guns ready as if the corpse might come back to life, and took hold of the floating, bloodied lump. They tore away at the layers of bloody rags that covered it, ripping through the bundled clothes and torn Admiralty uniforms of a dozen victims that must have been woefully inadequate protection against the freezing cold of the cargo bay, frenzied in their need to know their enemy.  
    And then the body shifted under their hands, and the last piece of cloth fell away. The face that greeted them was wild and feral, its mouth curled in a snarl, its skin cracked and bleeding from frostbite. It was hideous, without question, but more than that, it was human.
    “You’re kidding me.” The younger man said in a small, hollow voice, and the Captain turned away, his face now hard and determined.  
    “Don’t look for demons.” He said coldly, staring at the bodies still floating in the open crate. “Men are more than enough.” He set his jaw and turned away, scanning the empty bay above. “Men are always more than enough.”
    Tyco stared at the frozen corpse, at his vacant, human stare, and nodded, slowly understanding. The ghost ships, the murdered crews, the broken, splintered bodies – all of it, the rumors notwithstanding, had only been the work of men.
    A hail of bullets sounded through the comm, exploding into the full-throated rattle of open combat. The unit had finally breached