The Matriarch of Oshaune's labyrinths

 

Artwork by Kevin K.

Democracy’s reach knows no limits. There is no corner of the galaxy too dark, no dungeon too deep, no abomination foul enough to stop a Helldiver. For we are Super Earth’s finest.

We dropped at six hundred hours, in the eternaly gloomy Hiveworld. Pretty soon we would be terrestrial and deep in the caves where the Hive breathes. Our objective was to anniliate the spore lung. Two squads, speleological gear equipped, one Patriot exosuit and one Hellbomb backpack at the ready.

The dropzone was eerily quiet. We neutralized a Shrieker nest nearby, but the explosions drew attention. Far in the distance, a massive silhouette circled against the toxic sky—a Dragonroach, hunting.

We sprinted for the nearest cave mouth before it locked on. Inside, the silence felt wrong—unnaturally still. Apart from a few brief firefights with scattered rupture-strain patrols, nothing truly overwhelming opposed us so far.

Comms with the Super Destroyer went dark the moment we entered the caves. Even squad intra-comms crackled and dropped in and out. We pushed deeper into the living labyrinth, searching for any trace of the spore lung. No sign of it. The clock ticked louder with every step.

We decided to split in order to have more chances of success. Squad Bravo (my team) took the winding upper tunnels. Flashlights carved narrow cones through absolute black. The deeper we went, the more cocooned eggs lined the walls, and the more creeping sounds of something lurking around the corner.

Squad Alpha—having the Patriot and the Hellbomb—took the main artery, moving slower, clearing every side passage.

Then the radio screamed.

Indistinct, panicked chatter from Alpha: “Aaaaaagh!” [Patriot mini-gun spinning up, brass raining on stone] “What the hell was that?!”

Squad Leader Alpha: “Eyes open. Something big is moving in the holes.”

As we delved in deeper we reach a cavernous chamber. In its centre: a grotesque, grand-sized single nest woven from bone and chitin. Helldiver helmets stared out from the walls—remains of squad members that never made extraction.

I cooked a grenade and hurled it into the nest. Before it even detonated, sealing the chamber forever, a wet stabbing sound is heard behind us. Private Hessen has been impaled and instantly killed by a spiked and venomous sharp claw.

We spun and emptied magazines into the darkness.

Chief Manning’s voice cracked: “That was NOT a normal Stalker…RUN!”

Artwork by Kevin K.

As we bolted through the maze, we heard squad Alpha reporting successfuly locating the spore lung.

We were running on fumes and raw terror, spraying rounds at every shadow that moved.

There is a wide opening, in front of us a monstrous heavy Stalker, with venom dripping from its barbed claws and reinforced shell, as well as a long extendable tentacle-like tail tipped with a stinger. It's a Queen Stalker.

It reared and hissed pheromones into the air—an alert call—something unheard of for a Stalker!

We opened fire as it vanished again. The hive answered instantly. The walls screamed. The floor trembled. Reinforcements poured in.

Squad Leader Alpha: "QUICK, we have to arm the Hellbomb!"

We saw the opening and squad Alpha firing for their lives, Sergeant Mira behind me got flanked and puked upon by the Queen. She dropped, paralysed and unconcious.

Chief Manning "Grab her, am covering you"

I slung Mira over my shoulder, my movement significantly reduced.

Squad Alpha’s fire faltered. “We can’t hold!”

[Hellbomb armed]

Exosuit operator seeing us slowed coming out of the hole in the chaos and disaray of waves of bugs around us.

His voice boomed over the chaos: “Get clear! I’m holding them off!”

We stumbled out of the side tunnel into the main chamber. The exosuit stood alone between us and a living tide of chitin.

Chief Manning emerged last—then the Queen’s tail punched clean through his back. He staggered forward, then collapsed, venom already blackening his veins.

The Hellbomb countdown hit zero.

White light. Shockwave. The mountain itself seemed to exhale.

Silence.

Sergeant Mira came to her senses after a stim. The medic pumped Chief Manning’s chest for ten futile seconds. Queen venom has no antidote. Twenty seconds is all it takes.

We limped to extraction—five left out of eight.

Mission complete. At all costs. For Super Earth. For democracy. Media source: Kunatics, Artstation