Content Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and being held against one’s will, violence, mentions of death and murder
“Where do you think Earth is?”
“Right now?” Soap asks as he sits on the ground, legs stretched out on front of him.
He talks to an empty room with the rest of his squad sitting inside their own individual cells. But like this, he can pretend the pressure against his back is Gaz’s reassuring presence rather than the cold, hard wall that separates them. Pretend that this is just another day of training as they enjoy a small respite from running drills rather than face the frightening reality they’re so far out in space it’s impossible to see their home galaxy, their home planet.
It still stings to talk about Earth. Say the quiet part out loud that they have no idea where they are. That instead of just being on an unfamiliar continent behind enemy lines, they’re millions of miles away in the dark void of space.
But maybe talking about it like it’s no big deal will make it lose its bite. “I like to think it’s always north.”
Gaz gives a snort, and Soap can perfectly picture the smirk. “Is it like the north star or something?”
“I like to think it is.”
“The north star isn’t even north anymore,” Ghost grumbles, standing in the corner of his cell directly across from them. “We’re too far into space for it to be proper navigation.”
Soap blinks. “That hurts my head.”
“More than being abducted by aliens?” Gaz asks with a poor attempt of an airy tone. His voice shakes too much to make it a casual joke. The threat of the door to their room opening looming ominously above their heads constantly.
And speak of the devil, as if summoned by the fear, the empty wall disappears to reveal four heavily armed figures. It’s not the uncanny way they move that’s sends shivers up their spines, or the claws they’ve learned to hold poison meant to make them feel numb.
All three of them tense as the long poles being held suddenly spark with electricity, a silent declaration one of them will be dragged into the dark hallway waiting to swallow them whole. As they advance forward, Soap’s heart skips a beat as they decide between which one they want to take today. Then it drops when they stop in front of Gaz’s cell.
For some reason, despite this happening at least once a day if not more, this time terror grips him as the need to get to Gaz overwhelms him as he lunges for the front of his cell. “Don’t touch him!”
Soap rams against the door, desperate to get out and help Gaz take the bastards down. He hears his fellow sergeant fighting tooth and nail, hears Gaz scream as he’s electrocuted. It makes something break inside him as he throws himself again and again against the wall as he tries and fails to break it down he needs to break it down he can’t let them do this he can’t lose Gaz.
“Soap.”
“Get away from him!” Soap roars. He kicks at the cell’s opening, the frustratingly solid ‘door’ that only disappears when a password is typed in on the outside not even reacting, simply taking the abuse without so much as a rattle, completely devoid of locks to pick or hinges to snap.
They don’t so much as glance at him, simply dragging Gaz away, his teammate groaning in pain and unable to fight.
“Gaz!”
“Johnny.”
The very measured and calm snap of his name makes him jolt. Just like that, Gaz vanishes along with the other figures. The piercing bright lights are replaced by a reassuring dim glow from a dying fire. There’s something at his back, but it’s warm and alive.
Soap breathes heavily as he takes in his surroundings. Remembers he’s no longer in a cell, frustratingly so close to the rest of his teammates and yet impossible to reach. Ghost is right behind him, sitting back to back so he could keep watch while Soap slept. Tried to sleep after several days of neither of them being able to get proper rest.
Wiping a tired hand over his face, Soap reaches for the water before freezing when he sees his hand is held in a tight fist, the object he holds impossible to see save for the chain draped almost delicately over his wrist.
A dogtag. One he refuses to let go. One he clenches tightly as he battles over wanting it to have a very specific name.
“Same one?” Ghost asks.
Soap swallows thickly. “Aye.”
His lieutenant gives a noncommittal grunt. Soap elbows the living brick as hard as possible. “Here’s out there, we just have to find him.”
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.”
“Yes you would,” Soap grumbles as he crosses his arm, shifting to get comfortable despite the extremely uncomfortable backrest that Ghost makes. He’s only given one warning jab with an elbow in retaliation. “You can’t live without me.”
“I beg to defer.”
“Sure LT,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes again with a silent prayer he’ll be able to sleep without dreaming. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Because they both know that really is the reason why Ghost hasn’t commandeered the first ship he could find and drove it straight back to Earth. He wouldn’t be able to leave Soap behind. Soap and his possibly foolish hope Gaz is still alive.
Content Warning: Cursing, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of being kidnapped and held against one's will
Gaz hates the spider.
Okay, scratch that, he doesn’t hate the spider. Honestly, he’s thankful it’s been the single most kindest spider he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he really hopes it continues to be cordial with him.
That being said, it’s still a spider. One that leaves webs everywhere, that hisses and clicks randomly, and it’s human sized.
Not small enough to get kindly trapped under a cup to take it outside. Not a literal speck on the floor or ceiling that’s unnoticeable at a glance. It stands as tall as him if not taller and therefore capable of wrapping him up in webs like a wingless fly to snack on later.
So he hates the spider. Hates that he doesn’t know what it’s trying to say even after being given a book to learn ‘common’. Hates that it seems to completely disappear only to reappear when it wants to.
Hates that it doesn’t know what to do with him, either.
Gaz won’t lie, he knows they both hate each other. He doesn’t like the fact he could be bitten at any moment and learn just how agonizing a death via venom is or be faced the horrifying end of being slowly eaten alive, but the spider has reasons to expect whatever sharp or heavy object is in their general facility to suddenly be used as a weapon to kill it.
He won’t, not when that would guarantee leave him to either die via a flaming death as the ship crashes into the side of the nearest planet, or to starve after floating in space for too long because he doesn’t know how to operate the craft he’s in.
But he saw the panic when he was first found in the storage bay. The fearful skittering away when he accidentally sneaks up on it. He may not be an expert in spider body language or in alien spider body language, but he knows the look of a trapped animal ready to defend itself at all costs all too well. Had worn it himself a few times during ops.
Gaz looks through the book he’s been staring at for several days straight. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s been several days since he stowed away on the spider’s ship. They haven’t landed on a planet since they took off from the one he crash landed on after escaping certain death, and the lights stay on a constant dim lighting without getting brighter or turning completely off to mimic a day passing.
He actually doesn’t know if that’s because aliens that travel in space don’t find a need for that kind of thing, or the spider just doesn’t care for it. Maybe the spider doesn’t have a proper day from where it’s from. He has yet to see it actually sleep- bloody hell it doesn’t sleep.
Shivering at the newfound and disturbing information, he focuses on a particular page with a picture of what he’s pretty sure is a piece of paper. Thank God the book he’s pretty sure is meant for children speaks the word as well as shows the spelling for it, because despite it acting a lot like his own books from grade school in learning the alphabet, he can’t translate the symbols into sounds. He needs a proper tutor for that, and the spider has made it clear Gaz needs to figure it out on his own.
“Pauper,” he murmurs to himself, trying to commit the symbol, image, and the robotic voice to memory. “Pauuu, no, pap. Paper. Paper.”
Great, he’s got that one down. “Pe-e-en. Pennn, pen, pen!”
God, Soap would be making fun of him right about now for not immediately getting each word down. As if his fellow sergeant wouldn’t be just as slow as him learning an alien language. Knowing Gaelic and being bilingual doesn’t mean he’s automatically going to be good at learning another language from space.
And Ghost would make fun of both of them for even attempting to learn-
Gaz snaps the book shut as he stares at nothing, shutting his mind down to completely close off the thoughts attempting to overwhelm him.
He can’t think about them. Not when he doesn’t know if they were going to be killed like he was. Not when he most likely will never know if they managed to escape, if they’re dead or alive, if they’ll ever make it to Earth.
He can’t think about that. Just focus on the cold floor beneath him. On the chilled air around him. On something gently tapping on the wall.
…wait.
“Gaz?” sends a shiver down his spine as his name sounds more like a haunting hiss. “Okay?”
Gaz blinks before he focuses back on his surroundings of a small ship owned by a spider, his eyes flicking toward a doorway where said owner currently stands looking unsure. “Uh, ahem, yeah. Yeah, okay.”
The spider’s long legs that stretch above its shoulders twitch, and Gaz can’t help tensing at the thought of it springing forward in order to skewer him. “n’toD evebeli ouy, atme.”
Gaz glances down at the book at the last ‘word’ spoken, trying to remember if there’s anything that sounds like hisses and insect clicks. Nothing comes to mind, so it might be the spider’s own language. Like how its name is an odd click in the back of the throat.
“Okay,” Gaz shrugs. He hasn’t found the word for ‘how do I get back to Earth’ or ‘how to I find my squad’ just yet. “Just learning new words.”
The spider seems to focus on the book as Gaz lifts it up to show what he’s talking about knowing anything said in English won’t be understood. There’s a long moment as he’s simply stared at before the spider’s making a clicking sound, and holy shit that makes his skin crawl.
“Help?”
Gaz hesitates. “You help?”
One of the long legs twitches. Oh, oh that’s how it nods that’s so weird Soap would totally get a kick out of that. “Help you.”
Gaz freezes. Blinks a few times. “Uh, s-sure?”
The spider walks forward slowly, acting like it’s afraid it’ll spook Gaz into running. Which, fair, there have been times when he’s jumped a solid foot in the air when it’s just appeared around a corner. It makes sure no to get too close, folding its extra limbs in as it sits down a few feet away.
“eW eedn ot sttra ithw fdoo.”
Wait, Gaz has heard that last one before. “Fude, fude, fude…”
Flipping to one of the pages, he presses a few buttons until a familiar sound emits. He then puts the book on the ground to point to the picture of what he thinks is a piece of fruit, an odd bug, and what might be a piece of meat? “Food?”
The spider’s legs twitch, and then it motions to its fangs. “Yes, food. athW od uoy tae?”
Oh thank God he thought it was threatening him for a second. “Anything you eat, really.” Then he freezes when he remembers seeing the spider rip a head off a bug. “Not bugs.”
The spider manages to convey confusion despite having no human facial structure. “What?”
Gaz quickly flips to the next page for what he now realizes was put there to help pick out specific food items. “Ug, bug. No bug. Fruit, me- meat…is that a plant? Okay, no bug. Yes fruit and meat.”
The spider chitters in what Gaz hopes is for something good and not an ‘oh shit’ type of deal because there’s nothing but bugs on the ship to eat.
“Okay,” allows him to sigh in relief. “No bug. Hrynug?”
Gaz’s face twists into confusion before glancing down at the book. Taps on one of the pictures he has no idea what it’s supposed to mean. Unfortunately it’s the same word the spider said. “Hungry, what hungry?”
The spider chitters. “Hungry rof food.”
Gaz flips back to what he thinks is teeth eating something. “Eat?”
“No. You eat food. Hungry, want food?”
Oh, it meant hungry. Does he want to eat. “Yes, hungry.”
The spider makes a quiet sound, and Gaz isn’t sure if he’s being laughed at. Its legs twitch as it stands up, turning toward one of the hallways while keeping one of its multiple eyes in sight. “Come.”
Gaz immediately moves to obey, standing up with the book in tow, pausing to stretch until he hears a pop of his joints.
Damn that felt good. Wish there was-
“Holy shit!” he yelps as he stumbles back, heart in his chest as a hand reaches for his holster at the sight of the spider right in front of him, within arm’s reach and well within range for the long legs to stab him.
His searching hand finds nothing because he doesn’t have a gun. But the spider has gone motionless with its legs suddenly tucking back.
“Sorry,” it apologizes. “Okay? You hurt?”
Gaz’s chest heaves as his mind tries to figure out what the hell just happened. “What?”
“You hurt?” the spider asks. “You popped.”
‘Popped’ sounds more like the actual sound being copied, but he understands what’s being said, quick to hold out his hands and shake his head as he backs away from the terrifying creature much too close for comfort.
“I’m okay! No hurt! Pop okay, I pop!”
The spider seems to shiver. “You pop.”
Gaz swallows. “S-Sometimes.”
It stares at him bewildered. Finally, it takes a step back as it assesses him closely. “Food.”
Hopefully that doesn’t mean he’s now food. “Yes, hungry. Food please.”
The spider leads him toward what he’s gathered to be the kitchen as Gaz keeps a white knuckled grip on the book. It’s a decent size, he should be able to block a stabbing leg. Or the sharp fangs. Or knock its head off with a good swing if he gets a good hit in.
Content Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of being abducted, mentions of being contained against someone’s will
It’s a bad night.
At the very beginning when it was just him and Soap, there was never a night in which they weren’t sleeping with their backs pressed together to keep an eye out for hostiles. It got a bit better once they found Gaz, but even then for a long time they all slept in a pile together, constant physical contact as reassurance no one had been dragged away while they were sleeping.
Things got better as time went by. Ghost of course was the first one who silently put his foot down on gaining some personal space. He relented to stay in the same room as the others, his own instinctive need to keep the two within arm’s reach at all times never waining, but his skin was beginning to crawl from having someone constantly touching him. Gaz and Soap lasted a little longer, the two clinging to each other even when one was awake keeping watch.
Finally, though, they got to a point where they felt safe enough to not have each other within eyesight of all times. Where they all could sleep at the same time without posting a guard to watch over the rest. Where they could go so far as to claim separate rooms to sleep in separate beds knowing their captain was watching over them.
But if there’s one thing Ghost knows more than anything else, and that’s how the past will always haunt you.
Soap tends to be the one most affected by it, so it’s no surprise when the youngest of the group silently appears at Ghost’s door, simply staring up at his lieutenant.
Ghost doesn’t say a word. Already dressed for sleep, he immediately alters his path to his bed to instead heed his sergeant’s silent demands, Soap quickly turning in order to lead him down the hallway to the common area.
Ghost raises an eyebrow at seeing Gaz already setting up a nest of blankets in the corner where they can easily see every entrance into the room. He had assumed it was Soap having a bad night, but it looks like it was Gaz instead.
He doesn’t blame his other sergeant. Not when there’s times even the cold blooded killer who’s name makes anyone who hears it start shaking in their boots finds himself jolting awake in a cold sweat as he desperately grips a knife he always keeps close even in sleep.
Soap and Ghost wait patiently outside of the mass of blankets until Gaz finally beckons them in, the youngest diving in as their lieutenant waits until the two are settled. Then he’s climbing in as well, carefully folding himself as he sits down close enough to have a leg or an arm thrown out to intertwined with his own, but not enough to be clung to.
“Do we need to post a guard?” he asks, gruff but not unkind.
As Gaz opens his mouth to answer, the door across the room suddenly opens. Ghost grabs his knife to throw at whatever is coming to grab them, tensing when he sees the familiar silhouette of Price in the dim lights.
Their captain poses in what Soap has called a ‘threat display’, but they’ve learned that’s his way of offering an apology as well. Something that most likely came about to mimic the way the three of them tend to hold their hands out to try and calm someone down.
“Are we securing the rec room tonight?”
“Aye,” Soap confirms. “Will you be securing it with us, cap?”
Ghost glances over at Gaz perking up at the thought as the overgrown spider’s long legs shift thoughtfully. “I’ll be the posted guard.”
Soap and Gaz immediately burry themselves into the blankets as they become a single entity that won’t be moving anytime soon. Ghost ends up with one of his legs being claimed by both, but he doesn’t join them.
He watches as Gaz’s shivers slowly fade away. Watches Soap’s white knuckled grip loosens bit by bit. Refuses to watch his own hand fight to reach out and confirm the two are real and he isn’t alone.
Instead his eyes land on Price. Feels his eyebrows raise at the spider looking undeniably fond as he slowly walks closer to post himself protectively over his sleeping squad.
There’s also a bit of envy if he’s not mistaken. Specifically toward the gangle of limbs where it’s impossible to tell what belongs to Soap and Gaz. Toward the subconscious need to be in contact with Ghost despite blatantly keeping his distance.
Hadn’t Soap said Price was big on being allowed in someone’s personal space? That physical contact is important to the spider?
“Are you going to stay up for a bit, atme?”
Ghost stares down at his sergeants already snoring away, trusting their lieutenant and alien captain to keep them safe.
“I’ll leave it to you, captain,” Ghost murmurs as he carefully lies down to not jostle Soap and Gaz.
Price chitters in a way Soap said to mean the spider was happy. He watches through half-lidded eyes as the figure suddenly grows twice in height as their captain looms over them. A promise that no matter what comes through the door, it won’t be reaching them or making it back out alive.
He closes his eyes right as Soap wraps an arm around the nearest stilt, for the first time in a long time falling asleep without the promise of a nightmare waiting as a chorus of screams becomes his lullaby.
No, only a shadow always hovering over his shoulder follows him in his dreams, with spindly limbs that lift him away from danger every time it tries to find him.
Content Warning: Cursing, mentions of violence, someone being temporarily blinded
“What do you think ‘slings’ means?” Soap asks, the unfamiliar word that’s more hissing than anything sounding awkward coming from his mouth.
“I always thought it was his version of ybos,” Gaz replies, sounding amused.
Ghost grunts. “I always thought it was tsoidis.”
Price follows the voices of his squad without actually listening. As much as he’s sure he would genuinely enjoy what’s being discussed, he’s too focused on putting one step in front of the other as his eyes strain against the light surrounding him.
He’s supposed to find caves comforting. They’re one of the few places he will run into without hesitation if he’s trying to flee. In fact, that’s the reason why they’re all currently making their way through the vast cave system of the planet they’re on, his squad following his orders to get underground without hesitation.
Unfortunately, these particular caves meant instead of a dark frozen tunnel perfect for him to transverse and guide his humans to safety, it’s bright with the air full of water.
The moment he realized his mistake, it was too late to go back. Not unless he wanted to put them right into the enemy’s clutches to kill him while executing his humans one by one if they refused to cooperate and change sides. He’s just thankful Ghost has noticed his hesitant steps once the glowing stones properly spotted his vision meant for dim and dark corridors.
His second in command was kind enough to not mention Price’s failure as he silently took point, nor did he sigh after getting a web attached to him. Good lad.
But now Price is trying his hardest not to stumble on the uneven floor he can barely see. Is trying not to let his nerves show when their voices echo through the hollow rock to send phantom vibrations through the ground. Fights to keep his stilts close rather than poised for attack less Soap realize he’s on edge.
As they slowly make their way back to the ship, one stilt suddenly stretches high above his head, twitching as it reacts to something Price has yet to indentify. But if there’s anything he trusts, it’s his instincts, meaning he springs toward the opposite wall away from what his body is reacting to.
His stilts dig into the blindingly bright rock as he pulls himself several yards above the ground, poised to attack or flee once he identifies the threat.
It’s quiet as he listens for movement. Too quiet. His slings have stopped talking.
“All clear, captain?” Gaz quietly asks, clearly worried but sounding confused. Meaning whatever Price reacted to is either insignificant and didn’t prompt such a reaction, or there’s nothing there.
“Solid,” Price grunts. He hesitates before carefully climbing back down to stand on solid ground. His attempt to tuck his stilts away is a lost cause now that his instincts are sure there’s something out to get him. “Thought I heard something.”
“I’ve heard something like a frie ckinglrac,” Soap reports, his tone serious for once. “I wonder if these stones have some kick to them.”
“You’re not using these to making another bloody bomb,” Ghost growls as he turns to continue leading them down the tunnel. “Keep your eyes peeled.”
Price’s stilts flinch when he realizes he did hear Ghost correctly for the common word ‘peeled’. Hopefully the human hadn’t meant the definition for taking the outer layer off something, or maybe that’s just how they describe the fact human’s eyes can adjust to different levels of light.
Bloody hell, can they adjust on command?
With his stilts twitching from envy rather than nerves, Price picks up the pace until he sees a shape blocking out the light. He gently taps it with a stilt, eliciting a quiet amused huff, confirming he found Gaz. With his most trusted human close, his stilts finally lower as his shoulders slump. Still wired as the feeling of moister clings to him, but Gaz will be his eyes and watch his back so he doesn’t end up in a deep pool of water.
“I kind of like the cave you picked, Cap,” Gaz smiles. “We don’t usually have such brilliant sights during ops.”
The Idiothele chitters from the reassurance his mistake was a good one rather than catastrophic. “You’re saying you wouldn’t enjoy a cave without the blinding stones?”
“I enjoy not being in a terrifyingly dark cave where I can’t see two inches from my face, yes.”
“Oh come on, Gaz,” Soap jeers. “We all know Price wouldn’t let us run into anything in the dark.”
“Certainly not a creature, but if he didn’t lead you into the wall, he would’ve missed a wonderful opportunity,” Ghost says, followed by the sound of splashing.
Price tenses at the realization there’s water nearby. Enough to have a puddle big enough for someone or something to step in and create a loud sound. But he can’t sense where water lies even within a small radius, not with moisture clinging to him like webbing. He can’t confidently say if one of his humans caused the splash, or if something behind them did, and Gaz doesn’t slow down even for a second.
Keeping in pace with him, Price’s head swivels as his stilts rise, searching for an answer as he attempts to see past the blinding light impossible to look through, hairs rising as something falls behind him.
Price whirls around with a hiss as his stilts come up in a threat display, shoving Gaz behind him to protect the human. When he hears the faintest splash from a drop of water, he blindly stabs in front of him to hopefully grab his target.
He finds nothing. And then the sound of laughter rips through the silence.
Before Price can ask what Soap finds so amusing, he sees a thin line reflecting the light as it falls directly in front of him. He stabs again with better accuracy, catching the unknown item on a silt.
Mother Silk it’s water. Now he understands why Soap is cackling like a sling who hasn’t had their nap yet.
“Hey Price?” Soap struggles to ask past his mirth. “Did the water attack you?”
The Idiothele can’t offer a response. Not when, despite having knowledge that what his instincts zeroed in on is completely harmless in its current state, he can’t stop his threat display as he waits for it to pounce. As if water ever did such a thing when it’s a single drop falling with gravity.
A hand gently settles on his shoulder. “You alright, Price?”
“On edge,” Pride grits out to Gaz’s question.
He can sense the human becoming confused. “What are you on edge about?”
Price’s stilts twitch as he waits for Ghost to come up with an answer, for his second command to tell the others what he noticed or tell them it’s due to the mission. The human doesn’t chime in, leaving him to make his own choice on what to admit.
“I can’t see inside this bloody cave,” he growls. “It’s too bright.”
Soap’s laughter suddenly cuts off. “I thought the dim lights were just more comfortable.”
“They are, but too much light concentrated in a small space makes it impossible for me to see.”
He waits for them to berate him for not telling them. For putting them in danger not knowing Price was simply reacting due to not having one of his core senses.
The hand on his shoulder carefully squeezes before he’s gently pushed toward another pair of hands that firmly tuck his raised stilts back down. “Web.”
Price chitters softly at Ghost’s no nonsense tone as he immediately hands over the rope he always has spun before missions in case he needs to anchor himself or keep Soap from getting too far away. He can’t see what his second in command is doing, but he senses his web being passed around as it’s attached to one point, then a second, then a third before a full circle is completed with him in the center.
“Soap is to your right, Gaz is to your left, and I’m in front of you,” Ghost’s gruff voice reports. “You’re in the middle between us all. We’ll let you know if we come across water, but you can only react verbally if you sense a tileosh.”
Price feels like an unruly sling. “Understood.”
A hand roughing pats his shoulder as Gaz hums. “Our turn to guide you through the dark, Price. Bought time since you’re always dragging our asses out of the frie.”
He feels the web in front of him tug, Price obediently following as he keeps an equal distance between all three of his humans. Because he needs to be protected, more of a hinderance than an asset. Unfit to lead his squad.
Soap chuckles to himself. “Remember the time I got stuck after climbing up a tower?”
Gaz snorts at the memory. “Yeah, and I remember you were such a aredscy tac Pride had to climb up after you just to get you down.”
“Oi, I wasn’t a aredscy tac. It was a titiacal move.”
“Was it also titiacal to cling to Price like a aolak?” Ghost asks.
“Yes.”
Price remembers that mission. His webless sling had somehow managed to climb a several hundred feet in order to clear a sniper’s nest before covering them the high vantage point while they got over the walls.
The only issue was Soap couldn’t get himself down after forgetting to bring rope up with him after climbing what should’ve been impossible for any creature except Idiothele and the Rapthsints known for clinging to surfaces on vertical inclines who’s base they just infiltrated. But he had climbed, and he could not get down. Of course Price didn’t mind saving his youngest sling despite the entire situation being his own fault, though it was hard to properly maneuver when Soap clung to him like a newborn sling despite being the size of a full grown Idiothele and three times heavier.
Ghost and Gaz didn’t let him forget about it for several cycles. But it would’ve been almost impossible to end the mission without injuries if not for the risky move.
Price isn’t pulling a risky move to save the mission, however, to keep his humans from harm. He made a bad decision that ended with him becoming a liability.
He restrains himself from instinctively trying to stab the fleshy arm nudging his side. “I keep forgetting aliens are, ya know, alien. I bet there’s nothing in here cause nothing can see under these glowing stones.”
…it has been rather quiet save for dripping water.
“Bet that’s why the ones looking for us haven’t thought to come in here,” Gaz musses.
“That’s why Price is the captain.”
“We all know you’d be a shit one, LT.”
“Price, Soap needs a timeout when we’re back on the ship.”
The Idiothele chitters as he thinks it over. “I’m thinking instead of a timeout, I let him chase after me with all of the lights on.”
“We’re supposed to punish him for insubordination, not reward it,” Ghost huffs.
“Clearly I’m the favorite.”
“In your dreams.”
“I think that’d be a good training regiment, sir,” Gaz murmurs to keep out of the current argument. “We can also make Hunt Down Soap a regular thing.”
Price nudges the smirking human with a stilt. “I hunt all of you down when the ship’s dark.”
“Yeah, but you specifically gun after Soap.”
“You’d rather I go after you?”
“No, sir.”
Price huffs a laugh. Feels the weight of his stilts lighten at his offer to turn his liability into an asset is only interpreted as something that strengthens all of them. Not making the weakest link into something valuable enough to keep around.
He doesn’t have to fight just to stay alive anymore. Not when it comes to his humans. “Hunt Down Soap it is.”
Content Warning: Cursing, mention of death and murder, violence, intentions to hurt or kill
Price’s human has disappeared.
That in itself isn’t surprising. Despite his species taking pride in how invisible they can become in low light, masters of navigating in darkness who find comfort in confining spaces that seem to continuously press in on all sides, it’s hard to deny one of if not the most frightening deathworlder to exist can vanish was well as the next Idiothele.
He’ll admit he’s a bit envious that what seems like such a heavy and ungraceful form can seem completely weightless when it wants to be. He’s watched his human closely in the hopes to learn the secrets of such a phenomenon, hoping that once he knows how it works it will be impossible for the human to approach undetected.
He’s had no such luck. Price has watched Gaz stalk more times than he can count, but not once has he figured out the ‘how’ for the usually loud and impossible to miss human suddenly becoming completely undetectable. Nor has he gotten used to seeing it in action, always feeling like someone else’s web is being spin around him every time he sees the threatening low crouch and quick silent steps.
Makes a phantom sensation of a parasite invading his exoskeleton every time.
This time, however, is different. His human hasn’t gone silent to creep around the ship. Gaz didn’t say he was going to check on something before disappearing. One minute Price had a looming figure keeping close as they navigate through a market on a familiar desert planet, the next he’s simply gone.
Price hadn’t thought to attach a web to Gaz even while outside the ship. The human had been the one to stowaway on Price’s ship. Had begged to be allowed to stay. Has earned the trust to not be watched every second due to his habit of turning to Price for permission before doing something as simple as pausing to fix his attire.
His stilts shift with an unsettled click at the memory of Gaz removing pieces of himself. Price will never get over the idea of armor perfectly fitted to someone’s body that moves with them. Not even his plating moves seamlessly with his movements.
But that’s something he can pick apart like a restless nest watcher later. Now he needs to find his human. His silent, deadly, cautious human who never leaves his side.
Price chitters half as a warning to not be interrupted during his current mission, and half as a reprimand to himself for not realizing something was wrong. He should’ve noticed the moment Gaz disappeared, and now he’s trying to follow a trail that has already grown cold.
…except for a waving branch near a group of trees, and the very faint sounds of his human singing a haunting howl.
Price quickly ducks through the foliage, his stills raised in preparation for a fight. He’s completely silent as he navigates over uneven terrain, only needing to lift himself over a particularly difficult section. He tries not to think about what could’ve possibly bested a human. What kind of creature could not only take a deathworlder by surprise, but drag them across ground not most species finds easy to navigate.
“loHy stih s’ti yuo!”
Price’s stilts lock before they spring him forward, bursting out of bright purple leaves and into a nauseatingly bright clearing of grass. His secondary eyes close in relief at sight of Gaz alive only a lung away.
He tenses in preparation for death when he realizes the form standing to the side is another human. And what is currently trying to strangle Gaz to death is yet another one.
The sight of a closed fist he has learned to mean nothing but danger raising with the intent to hit Gaz, a hiss erupts out of Price with the promise of a long and painful death as he lunges forward. He tackles the rouge human, sending both of them tumbling through the grass.
“Wait-!”
Price’s stilts stop his momentum, a well placed stab into the soft ground allowing him to flip midair so he lands on his primary legs. He’s received a bit if damage, and he will be in pain for a few days, but he’s ready to make another attack as his target seems to flail.
But then it’s standing up as it crouches to show it’s ready to counter whatever comes next. Price didn’t need to be around Gaz for a while to know how a human looks when they’re hungry for blood. Not the way the bared death and fierce expression send a message clearer than any other.
He will most likely be torn limb by limb. But he’d rather get caught in a fire vent then let Gaz get killed by another human. Not under his watch.
“opaS wait!”
Price’s attention falters momentarily, panic crawling up him like he’s on watch duty with an unruly sling. Despite the apex predator waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him, he looks for Gaz.
His limbs shift when he sees the other human, changing his path to where Gaz is being held back, kept away from his savior almost effortlessly. That’s when he realizes Gaz is smaller than both of them.
That’s when something grabs him as he’s slammed into the ground, limbs ten times stronger than his own wrapped around his primary stilts as he’s squeezed.
Price shrieks a hateful curse as his secondary curl in to strike at the human’s vulnerable back before it has time to finish the job.
“Price no!”
The Idiothele freezes at the desperate scream. The human wrapped around him in a death grip seems to do the same thing.
“They’re friends, don’t kill them! opaS tel mih og!”
It’s completely silent as both Price and the human being labeled as a ‘friend’ wait for the other to make the first move. Finally, slowly, the human carefully sits up as it frees Price, lifting those gangly limbs up in a familiar display of trying to offer a truce.
Price chitters a painful groan as he sits up, but he keeps his stilts tucked away. “Gaz, what the bloody hell is going on.”
“Gaz whta teh fuck!”
The human in question races over, apparently free to do as he pleases. Price fights hard not to react to the approaching form, the one /very similar/ to the one that tried to kill him. But as Price skids to a stop next to him, there’s a hand being offered to help the Idiothele up that’s immediately accepted.
“Uh, nogl ystor,” Gaz murmurs with a rough pat on Price’s back. He winces as the rough handling earns an unimpressed hiss, the other human suddenly becoming very tense. “No, s’it koay, eh wn’ot urth su. They won’t hurt you, Price, they were just trying to protect me.”
The human’s face twists into an expression can’t mean anything expect anger as Price slowly processes the Common being spoken to him.
He can’t help the confused attempt to grab the contradiction being weaved with his stilts. “Protect you?”
Gaz barks out an odd sound. “The fighting’s a human thing. I’ll explain when we’re on the ship.”
On the ship…the other two humans are coming with them aren’t they? One of which hurt Gaz and tried to kill Price while the other simply watched.
Content Warning: Cursing, mentions of injuries, mentions of losing a limb (not permanently)
When it comes to injuries, the 141 has a set hierarchy on who determines what is serious, and what can be written off. Something that is invaluable when dealing with two completely different species from two vastly different planets.
When it comes to the three humans, Price looks to Gaz for direction on how he should react. Because even though falling into a deep pool of water or getting hit by a projectile would almost always lead to death, Gaz always tells him not to worry. Has him stay back as they haul Soap out of the water as he swears under his breath or take point instead of Ghost while the tallest favors the side that got hit.
“You sure you’re solid, mate?” he’ll always ask once they’re out of direct line of fire.
“Solid, captain,” is always the answer, followed by a lopsided grin from Soap, an eye roll from Ghost, or a genuinely thankful smile from Gaz.
When it comes to Price, it’s Soap who they turn to. Not because he’s better than Gaz for evaluating injuries, but because he’s the only one who’s pushed more boundaries than anyone would want or is willing to, therefore he stands as the expert when it comes to injuries regarding the Idiothele.
So whenever there’s a sickening crack after Ghost covers Price with his body by shoving them both to the ground, Soap immediately yells “He’s good! Just a joint locking!”
Or when Price climbs up a wall before folding himself into a rather nausiating shape, Soap only grins at Ghost and Gaz’s wide eyes. “That’s how he can fit into small spaces. You do not want to see him when he’s acting like a trapdoor spider.”
Or the first time he ever lost a fang…wait Price lost what?!
“Holy shit Price!” Soap yells as he leaps over the table, Gaz immediately sitting up at the sound of their spider expert actually being concerned.
“What happened?” is ignored as Soap grabs Price’s head, gently but firmly pulling the spider close as he tries to access the damage. The fact Price is trying to free himself as his stilts shove at Soap doesn’t make him feel any better as Gaz quickly jogs over. “Is he okay?”
“‘oap,” Price slurrs as he chitters, the missing fang making it hard to complete the sounds. “Let go I’m fine.”
“What the hell happened?” Ghost demands as he appears behind Price. He quickly catches the stilt that raised in selfdefense, gently moving it back down until it rests on the floor.
“He was eating something, and then his fang just came off,” Soap responds. He leans away once he determines there’s no blood, but he doesn’t remove his hands even as Price hisses. “Does it hurt?”
“Humanssss,” is all but spat. Finally his head is released, though none of them back up to give him space. “I’m fine, it happens. I’m tloming soon, so there’s no need to worry.”
“You swear?”
“I ‘wear. Give me one cycle.”
Gaz glances at Soap’s narrowed eyes, waiting for the final word on how they should proceed. Finally the youngest steps away from Price as he flicks his hand in an ‘I’m watching you’ motion. Ghost then takes his own step back, allowing the spider to step out of the protective circle.
Before he walks away, a stilt nudges each of their shoulders. “Thank you, gnilss. I’m glad I never have to worry about you itngib my head off if I ever seem to be broken.”
“If we did that, that means we would’ve killed Soap forever ago,” Ghost replies.
“Oh fuck off, LT.”
“Behave while I’m gone,” Price warns before he disappears.
Gaz looks between his squad mates. “I bet Soap will last two hours before he tries to break into Price’s room.”
Ghost glances down at Soap. “I give him one.”
“You’re both wrong,” Soap says as he quickly follows after their captain. “Mission ‘don’t leave Price’s side until the fang is back’ is a go.”
Their lieutenant sighs as he stalks after Soap. “On me, sergeant. We’re locking him in the rec room.”
Content Warning: Cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of becoming paralyzed for a short time
“What’s our food status?”
“owL-” Ghost shakes his head immediately at the unfamiliar word, making the overgrown spider that should be in Australia instead of space clean his fangs. Soap says it’s done out of thoughtfulness, but the taller is well aware it’s a warning he might be getting on Price’s nerves. “Small. owL is down, short. Gaz.”
Ghost gives a curt nod at the information and the odd charades accompanying each word. For the amount of times Soap fucks around for the hell of it, there’s a few helpful things that’s come out of the sergeant’s dangerous game of poking until he’s bit.
Only a few, though. And honestly, he wishes Price would just bite off Soap’s hand if it finally means the shorter will learn about consequences.
As it goes, it seems like he won’t have such luck. Which is a shame. Soap would’ve preferred getting his hand bitten off than an ‘accidental’ bullet hole. Ghost is partial to the latter option.
With the word ‘low’ logged away for future reference, Price continues. “We need to dock. Small planet coming up. We’ll-“
Suddenly, the spider postures. Not in the way a human does whenever they incorrectly think they can take on Ghost and win, but something reminiscent of the spiders he’d find on the ground while army crawling through grass. A sad more pathetic than threatening display that always earned a quick death via the slap of a hand.
Ghost blinks, trying to figure out why Price is poised to attack, only to see the spider has turned to the side. Following him, the lieutenant holds back a long sigh at the sight of Soap stretched out along the table, fingers just grazing Price’s unattended mug.
There’s a moment of silence in which Soap gives a cheeky grin. It’s only given a brief consideration before the spider seems to shrug himself, turning back to Ghost as if nothing happened.
Soap has found another game, hasn’t he.
“It’s dry and flat- heat. Desert,” Price corrects when Ghost doesn’t seem to respond. It’s not because he’s unfamiliar with the words, however, it’s because he’s concentrating on Soap. Watches as his sergeant slowly begins to pull the mug closer. “You’ll need-“
Price whirls on Soap again when the man starts to sit back down, the mug ‘close’ enough to take his seat back. It was enough movement to earn another flash of bared fangs and long spears poised to stab him at any moment.
Again, Price shakes it off, though this time with a low chitter that makes the hair on the back of Ghost’s neck stand on end.
“So you’ll need- Soap for othreM iklS’s skae!”
Soap takes a sip of Price’s tea.
Ghost doesn’t say anything as the spider pounces on the cheeky bastard, only shakes his head as the two sprint down the corridor. As he waits for the chase to end, either for Price to drag Soap back completely paralyzed or for Price to come back empty handed due to Soap locking himself in a room somewhere, Ghost snags the abandoned mug to claim for himself.
Out of the two options, he’s hoping Soap gets paralyzed for a little peace and quiet.
Content Warning: Cursing, mentions of guns and weapons, mentions of violence, mentions of dehumanization
“I know what you’re going to say, Laswell.”
“You do?” his superior asks. His anchor in this life she invited him into. The person he will always thank Mother Silk for.
She certainly doesn’t see him the same way, however, not with her tone being borderline annoyed. “I do.”
“Then praise tell what that might be.”
“That I am being reckless,” Price begins as he paces around the room, thankful this is a strictly audio link so Laswell can’t see just how anxious he is. “That I am pushing the limits on just how hot the flames of my fiery demise can become. That I should admit my web has been stretched far too thin and it’s only a matter of time before it finally snaps.”
There’s a soft sound of wind rustling leaves. “Am I wrong?”
The Idiothele begins to shrug before shaking his limbs. “I believe you are.”
There’s silence, not unlike in previous cases when they have this kind of discussion, and they’re almost always having this kind of discussion. Because no matter how many times Laswell warns him about the risks of working with humans, completely undocumented humans who should have never been in space in the first place with absolutely no sensitivity training whatsoever, he only gives a hollow acknowledgement before blatantly ignoring everything she said.
“You are about to go on a mission, correct?”
Price’s stilts shift at the sudden turn in the conversation. “We were just about to disembark when I called to give an update.”
“I want to be in the active coms.”
“No,” is his immediate answer as anger rises up in him. “Active coms are for my squad only.”
“Price,” Laswell murmurs, humming as she attempts to soothe his protective rage. “If I wanted to report you, I would have done it already. It will be on one of the frequencies that will be cut after the mission is complete. I won’t be recording anything. I just want to hear what you hear, breathe what you breathe.”
See his team how he sees them. Three beings that, despite being strong enough to kill him within seconds before he even realized what was happening, they follow each and every one of his orders, watching his back like they do for each other in a way that’s as natural as breathing.
“I’m trusting you, Laswell.”
“And Great Mother knows I will never break that trust,” his friend murmurs. “Not when I hold your friendship several branches higher than my loyalty to the federation.”
Price feels like he’s being tied up inside his own web, but there’s nothing he can do if he wants to keep Laswell at his side. She certainly has been patient with him.
“Alright,” comes out harsher than he meant, but his mind is in several different places, most of them centered around keeping his humans safe and by his side.
No matter what happens, even if Laswell determines this ‘experiment’ has gone on long enough, he will simply disappear as if he never existed, along with his three slings.
“Give me a moment to brief them. I’ll contact you with a severable link once we’re on the ground.”
“Talk to you soon, Price.”
The Idiothele chitters to himself as he cuts the coms, gathering the last of his things before stalking out of the room to greet his squad all ready to go.
Immediately Ghost narrows his eyes. “Something we should know about, captain?”
Price hisses. “We will have a guest on our coms during our op. You will be on your best behavior, or I’m wrapping you up to hang from the ceiling, do I make myself clear?”
All three humans nod once, customary from every other time they’ve agreed without any attempts to add stipulations. Soap’s expression is attentive as Gaz seems more somber than usual.
“Is it Laswell, sir?” the lowest ranked asks. The first human he had met. The one who was in the room when Laswell had reported the potential of lethal beasts from a deathworld wondering around the galaxy.
Price gives his own jerky nod. “It is. She wants to hear how well this team works together.”
Ghost straightens up as he rolls his shoulders. “Let’s give a good show, then.”
With all three in agreement, Price switched their frequency as a stilt hits the button to open the bay doors. Ghost immediately takes point as the Idiothele finalizes their technology, Soap and Gaz quickly following the second in command as Price covers their backs.
“Coms are successfully linked. Laswell, do you copy?”
“Copy, captain,” her familiar voice greets.
“You’re coming through clearly on our end. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, copy.”
“Loud and clear,” Ghost grunts.
“Copy, captain,” Soap confirms.
“Loud and clear, sir,” Gaz agrees.
“Let’s make this a clean one, slings.”
“That’s why they call me Soap, sir.”
“I thought it was to remind you to take a thab every so often.”
Price softly chitters a reprimand to not have so much banter right at the beginning of an operation. The coms quickly become silent, save for a faint huff from Soap jamming his elbow into Gaz’s ribs for payback from the comment.
They make good time trekking through the foliage of a planet plentiful with water, leaves taller than even Ghost acting as perfect cover as well as a significant hinderance to their own sight and passage. It’s not terrible with quiet comments of watching where you step, warning Price of a shadow several yards away, a stern but gentle snap not to step on any foliage as a branch snaps under heavy footsteps.
“What does ‘Soap’ mean?”
Price can’t help an amused chitter at Laswell’s question. “It’s his callsign. Named after something used to clean things.”
“What about the others?”
“Ghost is named after what humans call images of their dead coming back to haunt the living. Gaz is a nickname.”
“A nickname because Price can’t say my full name,” Gaz softly chimes in.
“Really?”
“You should’ve seen it, he was getting so frustrated.”
Price’s stilts twitch as the conversation continues without Laswell’s input. “Did I answer your question, Laswell?”
“You did,” she muses. “The callsigns are rather…”
“Badass?” Soap grins.
“Stupid?” Ghost offers.
“Unique,” she settles on.
Gaz snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Is she a polciianit?”
“She works for the veromnteng, of course she is.”
“We worked for the government.”
“There’s a difference between being in the field and sitting at a shitty desk in a shitty office.”
“I don’t believe they approve of my position,” Laswell comments. She tries to sound nonchalant, but Price hears rustling in the background.
“I don’t like anyone who sits at a desk except you.”
Laswell doesn’t respond other than the rustling settling down.
“Hey Laswell,” Soap begins. “How long have you and Price been working together?”
There’s a long moment of silence save for leaves being pushed aside as Soap and Gaz help keep a particularly big one from slamming into Price as he works to keep up with his squad.
It goes so long he begins to grow concerned Soap accidentally scared Laswell off. And then he hears rustling even as they walk through a clearing. “Several rotations.”
“Years,” Gaz softly translates for Soap’s confused look.
The youngest flashes a smile. “That means you’ve got some embarrassing stories then, aye?”
“Nothing that would be as embarrassing as any of yours, gantsree.”
“Oi! It’s shan ta be tryin’ a paint a red neck on me, LT!”
“English, gantsree.”
“Fuck, you,” Soap slowly responds.
“Remember the time he-“
“What’s their native language called?” Laswell softly asks, only semi-aware of the chaos unfolding. She can only hear the cursing and yelps, Price is watching in real time Soap trying to punch Gaz in the stomach as the other keeps out of range.
He does nothing to reprimand the two, not when Ghost is more amused than annoyed at the severe lack of professionalism. “They call it English, but there’s been times when Soap seems to use an entirely different dialect with how often Ghost asks for a translation, and sometimes Gaz does the same thing for Ghost.”
“They don’t have a universal dialect?” Laswell asks, bewildered.
Price’s stilts shift. “From what I’ve come to understand, no.”
“That sounds-“
“In English, the word is imipritive,” Ghost suddenly cuts in. “Our planet and its creatures seem beneath you. A planet at war is a planet not worth its salt. Yet despite all of that, we’ve been running flawless ops with Price at the mleh.”
The coms are silent, including the quiet argument between Soap and Gaz. It’s almost as if a web of melancholy has wrapped itself around everyone.
Then Ghost gives a huff of a laugh. “If we haven’t booted Soap out of the airlock yet, you don’t have to worry about us going guero.”
“You know you love me, LT.”
A fist being held up has everyone going completely silent, the difference almost eerie with just how quiet such large beings can become. Price obediently crouches as the rest do, quickly moving to Ghost’s side as Gaz and Soap move to his other as the two drop to their stomachs.
Ghost already has his gun set up on the ridge they find themselves on, scope searching the buildings below.
“I’m on tcherwaov. There’s too many ileossth, and I don’t see too many obstacles. Gaz, Soap, stick with Price and follow his lead, I’ll advise if needed.”
“Leaving it to you, LT.”
“On you, Price.”
“Alright,” the Idiothele chitters as he carefully moves around Ghost to meet up with the other two, stilts nudging them to prompt them to follow as he attaches a web to their backs. “Let’s go.”
“One time,” Laswell cuts in carefully. Her voice doesn’t make any of their footsteps falter, completely focused on the mission at hand. “Price was on a mission on a water planet, and it took him two days just to grab a single file that wasn’t even locked in a safe.”
Soap softly cackles somewhere behind him. Price tugs on his web, but if it almost made the youngest trip, no one could tell. “You’re scared of water that much!”
“Can’t swim, mate,” Price huffs as he flattens himself against a wall, his humans copying without hesitation.
“Well next time you send him to a water planet, we’ll be there to keep him from falling in,” Gaz smiles.
“And we’ll definitely have to have a nickech fight.”
“No go on a nickech fight,” Ghost joins in. “I don’t want to see Johnny in a suitmiws.”
“Bet I’d look better in one than you, LT.”
“In your dreams, gantsree.” There’s a soft click over the coms. “Enemy approaching your current position, take a right to stay out of sight.”
The three of them disappear into the shadows as they weave through the buildings. Stop when they find the only one with a flat roof. Gaz doesn’t say a word as Price immediately scoops him under an arm as he stands tall on his stilts.
“Soap, signal if someone’s coming, Gaz and I are going through the roof.”
“Copy, go pull a ‘isoiMn soibsleImp’ Gaz.”
That’s when the sling he picked due to being the least likely to get himself tangled in a web finally seems to realize Price’s plan, squawking as the Idiothele scales up the building with him in tow. “You’re lowering me down from the ceiling?!”
“That’s the plan,” Price chirps. “Have any better ideas?”
Gaz goes completely limp, sighing as he’s gently lowered onto the roof. “Other than letting Ghost take a shot at me?”
“Just say the word, gantsree.”
“Jesus Christ, Ghost, not while you’re on tcherwaov.”
“Cut his pocket open, LT!”
“Slings,” Price berates as he tightens the last web around Gaz’s waist. “Ghost, keep an eye on the door. Soap, he’s blind to the back I need you aware.”
“Aye.”
“Soap’s done this plenty of times, Gaz,” Price offers with an encouraging chitter. “You’ll do great, lad.”
Gaz sighs, but he obediently kicks open the rooftop access. “Next time Ghost drops from the ceiling.”
“Next time,” Laswell pipes up. “Might have to happen after I finally meet them face to face.”
