Issue 13 - Ray Gun Revival

Conversion, by Shaun Farrell Pg.
They didn’t stand a chance.
#
Besides storing food and supplies for the 300
colonists, which only accounted for a few, relatively
small rooms, the underground structure
processed the water gathered from Columbus’
moon. Columbus itself was practically desert.
The snowy poles could provide them water, but
the snow was so full of toxins that the energy to
purify it outweighed the expenditure needed to
travel to the moon and back.
Ice mining in a vacuum was dangerous, but
Dixon didn’t mind. This was freedom, even if
the elements threatened to kill you at any given
moment. He had been here for two years, and
while he couldn’t say he had made any true
friends, he had found peace.
Until now.
He finished packing the duffle bags with food
stuffs. Tempted to take the food and hide on his
own just to spite Captain America for ordering
him around, Dixon grumbled as he rejoined the
group. This food would keep them full for at least
two months. With luck, NET wouldn’t be able
to locate them deep within the warehouse. NET
would wait around for awhile, but after sixty days
of silence they’d classify Columbus as neutralized
and move on, leaving the desert world to burn in
its sun forever.
At least that’s what they hoped. He knew
better. NET was relentless. Tuck knew better, as
well, or he wouldn’t waste his time setting traps.
While Dixon cleaned out the food closet, Tuck,
Gen and Flapper had vandalized everything in
sight. All the spacecraft were gone, and while
other colonists had fled for the dunes and caves,
Tuck wanted to give the appearance that all of
them had escaped. But not before wrecking the
place. It was consistent with human behavior, Tuck
had said. When humans couldn’t have something,
they would rather destroy it than allow enemies
to utilize that resource.
Whatever. Dixon thought the Commando
Extraordinaire just wanted to shoot something.
“Did you get the food?” Gen asked.
“What do you think?” Dixon replied, dropping
the bags on the floor.
“Pick those up,” Tuck ordered. “We’re done
here. Time to get deeper underground.”
A thud echoed from above. They all looked at
the ceiling, hearts racing. Tuck cocked one of his
L-20s, aimed it upward.
Silence.
“They couldn’t have landed already, could
they?” Lynda asked. Chloe, for the moment, had
fallen asleep in her arms. The little girl’s fingers
gripped a lock of Lynda’s hair.
“Impossible,” Gen muttered. He pulled his
computer from his pocket and switched on the
screen. Accessing the facility’s security systems,
he brought up a view from the roof cameras.
A metallic cylinder walked across the roof on
matching, polymer legs. It seemed to glide, its
round body swiveling from side to side. Gen recognized
it, though the design had changed drastically
over the last few years. It looked alive. And
it looked hungry.
“It’s a transponder,” Gen said. “They’re going
to infect our system with nans.”
“Can’t they do that from space?” Lynda asked.
“I made sure the firewall was up,” Gen said. “I
didn’t realize they could land these things on a
planet now. We only have a minute or two before
all the computers are out of our control.”
“Oh, well that’s just—” Dixon began.
Ray Gun Revival magazine Issue 13, January 01, 2007