Planet Baoli, Erythros Star System
Chapter One
“To make Baoli strong, the weak die and the strong survive.” - Baolian proverb
Zihao slashed with his machete, hacking through the dense jungle surrounding the city of Baoli. The canopy of trees provided the perfect cover for the spiders, blocking enough sunlight to help hide the meter-wide predators in the low pandeng tree branches, drooping spider-vine, and razor-grass clusters filling the gaps in the underbrush. Spiders hid in the natural cover, waiting to spring, wrapping armored legs around their victims, crushing their prey, and dissolving the soft tissue with a viscous sting. Because humans had more soft tissue than the native life forms of Baoli, they had become the favorite quarry of the spiders.
As the branches swayed in the wind, Zihao caught a glimpse of the black metal, outer wall surrounding Baoli, the only outpost of humans on the planet. Despite its pocks and dents, the ancient ramparts kept the civilian population safe as long as the spider population stayed low. If the spider population grew unabated, the monsters scaled the weathered walls to hunt their favorite prey. One hungry spider inside the city would kill twenty civilians. Every child heard the tale of the spider swarm that had consumed most of the first human refugees on this planet.
Zihao kept the spider population low. Not alone, of course. Zihao served as second kansho on Fu Qin’s squad. At any given moment, one hundred fifty squads of kansho each paroled the wilderness surrounding the city, killing spiders. Zihao would kill every damned spider on Baoli, if he could, but spiders bred fast and were hard to kill. Every day, it cost kansho lives to simply cull enough spiders to keep the city safe.
Fu Qin touched his ear and eye, signaling the team to stop and listen. Six of the kansho took point, surrounding the rest of the squad, while Zihao, Fu Qin, and the others searched the treetops. Young spiders moved in the branches until their armored carapace grew too heavy, then they hunted from the ground. The branches swayed in the gentle breeze, revealing spots of yellow sky. Each kansho held a dented, rust-speckled, black carbine, which fired 30mm armor piercing rounds using magnetic energy. The magnetic acceleration made gauss guns silent and lethal.
Fu Qin pitched a magnesium flare into the woods, flooding the dark with brilliant white light. The torch bleached the green, browns, and reds of the jungle into black and white. Spiders couldn’t see, they hunted using infrared, and the heat from three thousand degree flare would draw out the nearest spiders. The torch landed against a large pandeng tree. The thick trunk sputtered and steamed, but like all of the Baolian plant life, resisted burning, even at temperatures which would melt steel.
The magnesium flare died, returning the natural colors. “Nothing. Just the wind” As Fu Qin lowered his weapon, a massive spider sprang from the largest tree and thick, black, spiny legs wrapped from his back to his chest, pinning his gauss gun to his side. Fu Qin’s chest spasmed as the spider’s stinger burst through the front of his rib cage. Blood and acidic venom spilled from Fu Qin’s chest and mouth. The spider feasted on the dissolving tissue as Fu Qin’s chest crushed in the spider’s grip.
Zihao’s team turned their weapons on the devourer and unleashed a hailstorm of rounds. The spider’s armor splintered and shattered; chunks of yellow spider guts and red human tissue splattered the ground as the gauss rounds shredded human and spider alike.
“Good kill. That’s a big one. Haven’t seen one that big still in the trees.”
Zihao assumed his new role as first kansho. He picked up Fu Qin’s gauss guns, ammo, and knife and left Fu Qin’s lifeless body. The others shoved the largest chunks of the bloody spider exoskeleton into rucksacks. No one looked back.
The sun had set, filling the moonless sky with stars. Zihao had spent the entire day killing spiders, lost two kansho, and he wanted to go back to his barracks and rest, but his role required delivering news of Fu Qin’s death. Zihao weaved through the tight streets of Baoli, pushing past the thinning evening crowds. Zihao approached the anonymous stone building. The dark made it indistinguishable from every other high, narrow building housing the multitudinous masses. He ascended flight after flight of steps and rapped on unmarked plain metal door. An infant cried inside. Zihao tapped his foot as he waited outside the door. He pounded again. The door slid open and a familiar face appeared, black hair and red eyes. Yuan, he seemed to recall.
Zihao thought he remembered Yuan from kansho training. She handled a blade as well as anyone, but was too small to make an effective warrior. Then Yuan had taken up preaching some forgotten religion called science. She claimed science would kill the spiders better than knives and guns, but she hadn’t produced any results and only results mattered. It’s good she left the kansho. She’d be dead by now and probably killed others in the processes. He shoved Fu Qin’s sheathed knife toward her.
Yuan stared at the blade. “Fu Quin?” She asked.
“Here.” Zihao pushed the blade closer. “Take this. I have things to do.”
“Tell me what happened. Please. I’d like to know.” Yuan’s voice trembled.
“The weak die and the strong survive. Fu Qin missed a spider in the trees. It dropped on him. It was a good death -- through the heart. Even your science couldn’t have saved him.” Zihao spat the word science like a curse.
“Science might be the only thing that will ever save us,” Yuan whispered.
Zihao shook his head in disgust. He dropped the blade at the young woman’s feet, turned, and walked away.