Chapter 17

"Holy shit." Fulmer said, staring up in awe.

It was enormous. While they couldn't see the rest of it yet, they could see two 'arms' jutting out from a plateau made of downed trees and large rocks that had been smashed by whatever the hell it was that had impacted here. The arms were asymmetrical, with the 'left' one ending in a flat face that reminded Fulmer of a sideways hammerhead shark. The opposite one had a rounded end, with a flattened portion jutting from its right side.

"What…the hell?" Mercer said, pausing for breath yet again. No one said anything, and every Marine had to stop and take a moment to stare in awe at the size of the arms. If they were that big, then they could only guess as to how large whatever they were attached to was.

They got their answer when they climbed onto a relatively flat disc of rock. It was enormous. Mercer paused to catch his breath again, struggling to even inhale. He looked up at the large ship. Well, he assumed it was a ship. From here there was no way to be sure. But what the hell else could it be?

"Hey." Dawes gasped, clutching as his chest with one hand and smacking Chaffin on the shoulder with the other. "Hey man, look." Dawes pointed with his right hand at what must have been the ship's entrance. It was some kind of opening that loomed ahead. Like the ship it lead into, it was large. It was also dark, and the shape of it was eerily reminiscent of a particularly private part of female anatomy. "Reminds me of your mom!" Dawes said, then let out a laugh. The sound that came out was more like a death rattle, and it sent Dawes into a coughing fit.

Chaffin shoved Dawes away from him and opened his mouth to tell the marksman to fuck off. All Chaffin managed to get out was a choked 'F'. A gout of vomit followed, and Chaffin fell to his knees as he puked all over himself.

"Shit." Fulmer said, unslinging her aid bag as she rushed towards Chaffin. Chaffin fell forward, planted his hands on the rock beneath him, and heaved again. An impossible amount of bile, mixed with his morning rations, painted the rock and began to drip sideways down the plateau's edge.

"Oh God." Chaffin croaked. Fulmer rolled him onto his side in the recovery position. The young Marine was staring ahead with unfocused, now colorless eyes. He was sweating profusely, and his body was wracked with violent shivers.

"Easy, easy." Fulmer said. "I'm going to give you some fluids, that should help. Okay?" Chaffin didn't respond. He didn't have to. She pulled the shears from their pouch on the side of her bag and cut away Chaffin's left sleeve.

While Fulmer worked on Chaffin, Mercer saw that Dawes had fallen into a seated position, his rifle across his lap. Wilkins teetered near the edge of the rock, hands by his side, head down. Mercer took as deep a breath as he could and walked over to Wilkins, grabbing the Marine's bag.

"Sit." Mercer said, gently pulling Wilkins down into a seated position. He grabbed Wilkins' rifle and pushed it into the other man's hands. "Here…" Mercer pointed out Wilkins' left limit of fire, and had to take another breath as he shifted to the right. "And here. Okay?" Wilkins didn't respond. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused. Spittle dribbled down his lips and onto his vest. What the fuck is happening? Mercer asked himself. Whatever it was, it had all but knocked his squad out of commission. Thankfully Fulmer still had her wits about her.

"Hot damn." Eberwein said as he pulled himself up onto the rock. "What the hell's wrong with you guys? You look like shit." He said as he started towards Mercer, who'd also lowered himself into a sitting position. Mercer just looked up at Eberwein for a moment before flipping the man off. Eberwein smiled at this as he approached, ready to give Mercer shit about being a soft bitch. His smile disappeared and concern crossed over his face as he got closer to Mercer. "Holy shit dude. I was kidding before, but seriously, what's wrong?" Eberwein took a knee beside Mercer to get a better look at first squad's squad leader.

Mercer's skin had become pallor, his lips bright, and the skin around his eyes had turned dark purple.

"Dwyer!" Eberwein barked. "Dwyer, get up here now!" He turned to see Guerrero helping Dwyer onto the rock. Dwyer's face was covered in sweat, and he swayed a bit as he walked towards them.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Dwyer said, breathing deeply between words.

"Shit. Do you have whatever they've got?" Eberwein asked. Dwyer took a moment to think, swallowed hard, then shrugged.

"Don't…don't know." Dwyer leaned his head back and took in a deep exhale. "Hard to…breathe."

"Alright, sit down." Eberwein said to Dwyer. He turned towards where the rest of the patrol was. Pops and Fick had just climbed up onto the rock, and Rook was helping pull a visibly-struggling Laraquente up as well. Their Weyland-Yutani babysitter, the one named Frank, seemed to be faring alright.

"Gunny Morris." Eberwein said, crossing the large rock towards the command section. "Gunny Morris, Lieutenant Fick." Both men turned towards Eberwein. Frank was busy taking pictures and videos of the ship with a small handheld camera.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Fick said.

"Sir, I don't know what's going on, but there's something seriously wrong with some of our guys." Eberwein reported. He looked back towards Dwyer and Mercer, then to where Fulmer was finally placing an IV into Chaffin's hand. "I don't know what it is or why it's affecting them. I feel one-hundred percent, and it looks like Fulmer is too. Not sure about everyone else." Eberwein saw that the Lieutenant was sweating, though not nearly as bad as those afflicted with…whatever the hell it was that ailed them. "Sir, are you feeling okay?"

"All good here, Sergeant." Fick said with a small smile. "Just not used to such strenuous post-cryo movements, is all."

"Sir." Pops said, turning to Fick. "What should we do about them?" He gestured towards the Marines that were clearly suffering. Maybe it had been something in the lake water? Fick took a moment to think, chewing on his cheek as he did.

"Have the medics give everyone who is dealing with…whatever this is, IVs. They'll stay out here and pull security." Fick said to Eberwein. "Sergeant Eberwein, you stay out here and supervise them. Gather up everyone else who is feeling up to speed, they'll be going into the ship with myself, Gunnery Sergeant Morris, and Rook."

"Roger, sir." Eberwein said. As Fick keyed his radio to give a status update to Captain Bartz, Eberwein turned around to see PFC Donny Anderson helping pull third squad's medic, PFC York, onto the rock. York was sweating profusely as well, and looked as if she was going to collapse under the weight of her aid bag.

Shit. Eberwein thought to himself. Whatever this was, he hoped some fluids would solve it. It had been a long trek up here, and he wasn't sure if these folks were up to the task of marching all the way back to the dropships.