Fantasy In All Things

[Rosie]

Albany’s eyelids drooped for what only seemed like a moment, but when she forced them to reopen, her settings had changed dramatically. Now, it was only her and one woman. Ezra and the spectacled man had disappeared. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she looked round the trailer. No sign of them. Her instant thought was they had been attacked, but the few dregs of rationality left within her reminded her that they had been taken to safety. Her chest visibly deflated with relief, and she turned her attention to what the hand on her shoulder, then the voice of the person it belonged to. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, yet strands of hair had come loose during the attack. Her expression was that of a gentle one, but she looked concerned.


“Do you think you can sit forward? Away from the wall.”


Her voice was still dulled down, as if she was talking to her from the other side of a wall, but Albany understood, and did as she was told. A bolt of pain shook through her spine, making her yelp and clench her eyes shut until the sensation faded to a bearable amount. In the meantime, Albany attempted to explain what had caused the injury, as if it wasn’t obvious already. There was a deep tear just to the right of her spine that ripped through her uniform and skin, exposing irritated and bloody flesh. Her lower back was coated in blood that had settled.


“It was going for Ezra and I leapt in front to protect him..” She began, but couldn’t think of the words to finish her sentence. That was probably enough information.


From the entrance, she made out ASF members that were searching round the tents, just in case one of those bastards had cowered in the darkness until they were ready to strike again. One of them raised his arm and waved it, signalling that the area was clear before running out of sight again. Albany brought her knees up and rested her forehead on them, taking deep breaths to keep the oxygen flowing through her body. Unfortunately, this also caused the injury to stretch a little in time with her breaths, but she bit her tongue, not making a sound. The Albany she knew back home would be kicking up a gigantic fuss, but she stayed silent and stationary, not speaking unless spoken to.

 

[Syrena]

The ASF officer was taller, and his radio kept crackling with static and human voices. Most of the words blurred together in a combination of military jargon and layman speech. Keira scowled, feeling out of place and suddenly uncomfortable, and tapped Clara’s extra flashlight against her thigh.


She glanced half-heartedly in the direction of tents that Professor Virgil had disappeared through. The professor didn’t appear in the brightly lit divisions between the tents. Keira chewed her lip. Worry—tinged with an uneasy, ripening panic—simmered in her stomach. She felt vaguely nauseous, and turned back to the ASF officer.


“I’m going—”


Ezra’s mop of light colored hair danced through peripheral vision. Keira turned, spotting Ezra first and then Tom. Both men looked shaken; their skin was too white and she saw tear tracks on Ezra’s face. Keira swallowed. The worry simmering in her stomach turned to fear. Gooseflesh prickled on her arms. She briefly rubbed her hands against her prickled flesh to sooth her nerves. “Oh my god.”


She rushed away from the ASF officer. His radio crackled again, ominously behind her. One of the huddled Odysseus members not quiet ready to return to her assigned tent shouted a vague warning. Keira ignored the noise and stopped in front of Ezra. “There you are!” She carefully knelt down, gently grabbing his shoulders. “Are you okay?” Keira waited half a beat and glanced up at Tom. “Where was he?”


She licked her lips and added belatedly, “Are you alright, Tom?”




She waited. Patiently.


Her flashlight flickered. The cheap, rechargeable batteries were dying. Inky darkness stretched ruthlessly across the latrine trailer walls, seeping into the cracks created by the failing flashlight. The orange glow from the emergency flares, almost dull against the night sky now that the initial outburst of panic and action was over, barely leaked through the trailer windows.


Albany mustered a grim determination as the last of the emergency flares faded. She scooted slowly, painfully forward. The nearly black stain of blood seeped across the torn shreds of her uniform, growing. Ripped pieces of fabric fluttered wetly to the ground; although, several gore splattered strips of cloth clung stubbornly to her skin.


Clara knelt carefully at the wounded girl’s side and listened to Albany chatter. She nodded and occasionally muttered brief, general affirmations. Then, Albany’s words started to blend monotonously together in a faint, drunken slur.


“Albany… Hey.”


She rubbed the girl’s shoulder gently, reassuringly. The puddle of blood trapped inside the sodden uniform oozed onto the floor; splashing messily against the tiles and forming a thin puddle. Clara inwardly grimaced and uncapped the bottle of cleaning alcohol. She rinsed the sticky bloodstains and pieces of fabric off Albany’s back.


The alcohol bit into the superficial scratches on the girl’s back, and lapped lazily at the deep puncture wound to the right of her spine. Blood still sluggishly dripped out of the injury, concealing the red, irritated skin around the tear.


“Albany.” She paused and ripped open a packet of gauze. The noise echoed in the empty trailer. Clara pulled a handful of white cotton balls out of the plastic packaging. “This is going—”


“—It was going for Ezra and I leapt in front to protect him…”


Clara licked her lips, glancing at the puddle of blood. The alcohol dripping off Albany’s ruined uniform made the puddle of blood appear less black. But the abrupt suddenness of her statement was disconcerting. Ezra, terrified and crying though unhurt, had left with Professor Virgil several minutes ago. She thought Albany had watched.


She reached up to squeeze the girl’s shoulder again. “He’s okay, now. You did well.” Clara waited a beat, and then carefully packed the cotton balls into the puncture wound. She felt Albany squirm, and a fresh spray of blood started to creep over the cotton. The spray of blood was sluggish. Clara felt her stomach turn over with a vague feeling of fear. What if basic first aid wasn’t going to buy enough time to wait for a medic? And all the blood settling across the floor…


She packed the last two cotton balls into the injury and started to wrap her handiwork up with gauze and tape. Finished, Clara turned the volume back up on her borrowed radio. Bursts of static crackled out of the earpiece. She waited for the noise to transition into the voices of ASF officers. It took several seconds, and some fiddling with the channels, to get a clear line. With a calm she didn’t particularly feel, Clara demanded a medic.

 

[RecAgenda]

After a medical team had taken over with caring for Dr. O'Learie, John regrouped with his team and started making his way back toward the command tent. He had left a few officers in charge of reorganizing Odysseus' defenses; dispatching more light-alls to the perimeter and running constant searches through shadowed areas.


“Commander!” one of Titus’ men called out as he approached. The soldier stopped just short of the commander’s entourage and offered a salute, though it was evident he was almost too exhausted to hold it on ceremony. “The light-alls are up and working around the perimeter and we've re-secured the camp. Those… things have fled in full retreat.”


Another ASF troop jogged over from the command tent and handed Titus a datapad. While the commander looked at it he asked the first, “Casualty and damage report?”


“Two KIA, four wounded, as far as ASF go. Two civilians have sustained injuries but we're currently stabilizing them. Everyone is accounted for. No damage to critical assets or any structures.”


Titus sighed after a moment and then threw the datapad on the ground in a sudden burst of outrage. “What the hell were those things?!” he demanded to no one in particular. Part of him was infuriated with the surprise attack and the lack of any knowledge about the creatures. Another part of him was tying to figure out how to cope with losing two good soldiers on the first night, with four others wounded.


“What were their names? The ones we lost.”


“Rodriguez and Fields, sir.”


With one hand on his hip, knuckles pressed into the belt around his waist, and another slowly wiping the sweat from his brow, Titus stood in contemplative silence for a long moment and thought about what to do next.


-------------------------


“Are you alright, Tom?” Dr. Grey had asked after checking to see if Ezra was alright.


Virgil smirked and scratched the top of his head. "Oh, what? I'm just an afterthought?" he joked. His tone shifted and he looked Kiera in the eye before saying, "No need to worry about me. I'm just fine. What about you?" Tom glanced around her and back toward the group of other civilians that the ASF had huddled together near the center of the camp, close to the gate. "None of those freaks made it to you guys, I hope?"

 

[Rosie]

From the corner of her eye, Albany could make out a spreading pool of black that she was comfortably sat in. Her eyes narrowed at the strange sight, and she almost heaved when she realised what it actually was. It was blood. Not only that, it was her blood. Pints and pints of it merging together into a sickly black. Her throat involuntarily convulsed, and the woman scrunched her eyes shut, willing to just pass out into the safety of unconsciousness.


“I’m going to be sick..” She managed to murmur while the blood drained from her cheeks, onto the floor behind her, no doubt. It wasn’t only the blood loss that was causing her to feel so vial, but the well intended buds of cotton that were attempting to block up her wound were felt right to her core. As soon as they touched her skin, they soaked up the blood and expanded. Not wanting to think about it simply made Albany envision it more and more vividly. Thankfully, a rather crackling response from the radio being clutched onto behind her.


“Medic has been dispatched. Please hold until contact has been made.”


The words should have comforted her, but she needed to know when the medic was expected to arrive. If she had some idea of a time limit, she could try and find the mental endurance to keep her damn eyes open until she was sure she was in the medical triage. Nevertheless, another voice joined the trailer, and began telling her to lie on her front, with the aid of Clara who had the unlucky job of actually trying to move her, much to her reluctance, and she wasn’t shy of vocalising her pain. Due to certain positions she made in the process, her wound opened and then closed in sync until she was laid flat on what her hazy clarity could only assume was a stretcher.


“She’s lost a lot of blood. Get moving.” The medic’s voice urged another two men who each grabbed a side of the stretcher and began running to the triage, in which she was laid down on a bed next to the entrance, still on her front to avoid unnecessary pressure being applied to her back. Albany lifted her head to enable her chin to rest on the pillow of the bed she was strewn on. Around her, she could only make out one other figure on a bed on the other side of the tent. She just about recognised her in bright lights which beamed in from the fields outside. Piper O’ Learie. The first woman she spoke to when she arrived. Albany’s chapped lips almost smiled to herself while medics fussed over her back, finding it amusing how they seemed to end up as roomies in even the most deadly circumstances. Naturally, her feet hung off the end of the bed, and she dipped into unconsciousness against the yells of the medics who loomed above her, willing for her to stay awake.

 

[Syrena]

Keira started. Her cheeks flushed pink with mild embarrassment. “I—” She licked her lips and nervously tucked loose strands of her dark hair behind her ear. “Um.” She swallowed thickly. Her embarrassment swelled unpleasantly in her stomach. “It’s not that… Well.”


She stepped away from Ezra and turned to face the professor fully. Her hands dropped uselessly to her sides. She stared dumbly at the fading lines of Virgil’s smirk and raised arm. Then, she giggled. The heat flushing her cheek receded. “Oh.” Keira blinked, recovering. “God. Sorry. I thought—it doesn’t matter.”


A tentative smile curled her lips. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of empty terror, exhaustion, and laughter. “I’m glad you’re okay. Ezra, too.” She sobered, wrapping her arms against her chest. Her fingertips felt like ice against her thin, cotton shirt.


Keira rubbed her hands together and shivered. “There was a lot of noise in the direction you took off in…” She shook her head. The memory of gunfire and the sudden terrible silence before an explosion of activity consumed the camp still felt horribly real. “I tried to follow you, but I ran into him first.” She gestured toward the ASF officer. “And ended up back here. I could hear the screams and shooting.”


“Nothing happened here. Thankfully. But.” She licked her lips again. The taste of her lip gloss felt heavy, almost surreal, against her tongue. “Tom. What happened out there? What were those—”


Keira abruptly turned away, suddenly unsure if she wanted answers. She watched listlessly as the ASF officer directed the last of the scared scientists back to their tents. “Uh,” her voice caught in the back of her throat and she coughed. “Will you make sure Ezra gets back to bed safely? Please.”




Clara climbed unsteadily to her feet. Her legs shook under her weight and her knees threatened to buckle. She pressed her hand against the ruined wall. The deep scratch marks felt rough against her calloused skin. Her hand slipped against the metal. She pitched forward, unbalanced, and curled her fingers into the gouge marks to reclaim an upright stance.


She stumbled out of the latrine trailer and watched the medical team whisk Albany away. Her radio—clipped to her pants—crackled with voices issuing orders for guard duty and cleanup. Clara let her knees buckle and she graceless collapsed onto the ramp. She leaned against an intact piece of railing.


The cool, humid air washed the thick smell of blood and antibiotics off her skin. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms against her legs. The last dregs of adrenaline oozed out of her, and exhaustion turned her bones to lead. She rested her chin between her knees, shut her eyes, and slowly counted to ten.


Her chapped lips soundlessly formed the numbers. When she reached ten, Clara pulled herself back onto her feet. She climbed off the ramp and turned to look at the trailer. The damage looked worse in the light. But the puddles of blood looked less frightening. She didn’t look in the direction of the crushed creature.


Clara sucked in a deep breath and picked her way back to the dead ASF officer. The ground was moist around his body; the dusty dirt had greedily sucked up the blood. She crouched a couple of feet away from the body, surveying the odd angle of his neck and deep slash marks. She searched for the nameplate sown into the uniform. It peeked out from under shreds of bloody fabric. Clara inched forward and carefully pushed the ruined fabric off the nameplate.


“Fields.” She sighed.


Her radio spat out static followed by a lengthy silence. She unclipped the radio. Dried blood clung to the heavy plastic shell. Clara wiped the radio against her pants. The dried blood flaked off and stuck to the denim fabric. She hesitated before pressing the talk button and reporting the location of Specialist Fields.

 

[RecAgenda]

Tom understood that Dr. Grey didn't exactly want the answer to her half-asked question right away, not while Ezra was still with them and not while everyone was still in a state of shock. Most likely there would be refresher courses in the coming days about PTSD and emergency action response. To be fair, however, everyone seemed to have acted in accordance with the training they had undergone over the course of the last two months. There's only so much that the ASF could expect of the eggheads anyway.


"Of course," Tom replied to Keira's request. "Let's go, kid." He placed a gentle hand over Ezra's shoulder and guided the teen around and back towards their assigned tent. "You did a good job, tonight," he lauded in an attempt to ease any tension or stress. "Most would have completely frozen solid back there-"


"-But I did freeze up," Ezra interjected. He was looking down as they walked and Tom noticed that the boy was clinching his fists in frustration. "She got hurt because of me... that other woman. She's in pretty bad shape, isn't she?"


Tom raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head, and then looked up at the night sky as they continued on down the main row through the camp. "You're wrong, Ezra. It wasn't anything you did or didn't do. The injury she sustained was a result of her own decision, which was to protect you. That's all." He then looked back down at the boy and said, "She'll be fine. Dr. Evenway sent along some of his brightest medical experts and loads of Polygene. She'll be up on her feet and in line with the others tomorrow morning for breakfast."


With a sudden burst in his pace, the young Nash shot ahead of him and barked after an annoyed sigh, "How can you be so calm?!"


Tom stopped for a moment and kept his hands behind his head, watching Ezra storm off into the tent. After a second alone, he mumbled, "What a brat... I froze up back there, too, you know?"


------------------------


Of course the kid had to be a morning person. It was barely six o'clock and Ezra, who had unexpectedly chosen to be Tom’s bunkmate, was already up and fumbling through the chest across from where they slept. It wasn’t that he was being disruptively noisy, but the man was a very light sleeper that awoke with every bump in the night. In fact, Tom had always been that way since childhood. He personally chalked it up to an always restless mind, an inability to fall asleep when hundreds of thoughts and ideas clouded his mental capacity. Though he did consider the possibility of having insomnia from time to time he was too lazy to have a proper clinical check conducted.


After checking the time on the haptic display projected by his Apex wrist band, he groggily rolled over and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes, whispering, “Ezra? What are you doing?”


The boy turned around and appeared concerned that he had woken up the man. “S-sorry!” he exclaimed quietly with a hushed voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just getting ready.”


“For what? It’s six in the morning.” Tom rolled over again to his back and dropped his forearm to cover his eyes from the dim lamplight on the their desk.


“I’m an early riser. Go back to sleep, professor.”


“Hey,” Tom said suddenly with a more clear tone, getting the boy’s attention again. When Ezra stopped and turned around, Tom asked, “How are you? You got a little flustered last night.”


The teen’s eyes remained locked with Tom’s and he quietly insisted after a long pause, “I’m fine now. I’ll be okay.”


------------------------

BDOC - (mnemonic) Base Defense Operations Center. This acts as the appointed command post, controlling and coordinating primary security measures, local intel, and communications. When multiple force components are joined together and share the command post, this is sometimes referred to as JDOC, or Joint Defense Operations Center. Inside, a desk sergeant, otherwise known as controllers, (and their appointed alphas) command active units, relay information over the net, and log all activities taken during their tour of duty. During emergencies, BDOC controllers will take on more active rolls over the comm net to direct forces and minimize confusion.

Feeling refreshed after a few hours of sleep and a clean shave, Commander Titus marched through the open flap of the command tent, which was now even more decked with communications equipment and computer terminals than the afternoon prior. As the morning went on, technicians and engineers continued to unpack the supply crates and worked twice as hard to finish setting up Ground Zero—as they were calling the camp site.


“Good morning, people,” he said aloud in an upbeat tone when everyone wearing an ASF uniform stopped what they were doing and stood up according to discipline and protocol. “As you were. BDOC, what’ya got for me?” he asked, addressing one of the officers standing at the defense station.


Snapping to attention, the man instantly replied, “Ground Zero is all secure, commander. No hostiles detected since the incident last night. Thermal and radar detection systems are now fully operational, as well as the primary and secondary radio transmitters. We can start sending long-range scouting parties whenever you’re ready. One more thing, sir; the zoology tent is requesting you pay them a visit as soon as possible. They’ve been examining the bodies of the those things that attacked us and claim to have come up with an effective counter-measure.”


“Radio them that I’m on my on my way,” John said. After turning to leave he shouted back, “And relay my thanks to all posted patrols for their continued defense efforts.”

 

[Rosie]

Naturally, Albany had a restless night. For one, any sleep she was seduced into was promptly harassed by all too vivid images of those creatures tearing at her skin until she was nothing but a crumbling pile of bones on the floor of the latrine trailer. And that boy she protected.. the woman racked her now rather mushy brain.. Ezra.. she was told that he was safe. But that was something she would want to see proof of before believing anything anyone told her. Secondly, her shins downwards were hanging off the end of her bed with her toes near enough touching the grass below her. Jeez, is everyone here 5’8” and under or something? Even in a situation like this, Albany never failed to find at least something petty to complain about. Finally, those things from the previous night.. one of them must have been taken in by the zoology tent for examination. Now that was something she wouldn’t let a split back stop her from getting her teeth stuck into. Maybe she could bribe someone with her unbrushed hair and sagging eyes to wheel her over there. Doing her best to look round the silent tent, she now acknowledged that this plan of action would be rendered impossible. Pity, Albany could not think of anyone who would be able to resist.


Onto more pressing matters, the woman peered up at her surroundings, but didn’t dare to move her back. She remembered passing out upon her hectic arrival, but was still under the assumption that her body was near enough split in half. And yet, Albany felt no seering pain shooting through her back. Curious about this renewed hypothesis (that she was no longer on the brink of death), she proceeded to tentatively shift her body a little to the left. Still nothing. Oh god, what if she was dead? It wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. Ghosts don’t feel pain, at least she didn’t think they did.


“What the..” Albany muttered, reaching her aching arm behind her and prodding her back with her fingertips. Instead of feeling stitches against skin, her fingers ran across stitches which held her uniform back together. Confusion swelled in her mind, and the woman failed to think of any reasonable explanation for the sudden healing she had undergone. In spite of this, evolved medical procedures were not completely out of the question in a place like this. Immediately, Albany flipped onto her back and let out a triumphed cackle when her skin hit the bed with no hassle. Now she was moving, she simply couldn’t stop. The murky morning air was tantalising her, and Albany sprang out into the refreshing mist that hovered round her. It couldn’t have been past seven in the morning, but she was always an early bird, much to the irritation of her roommates.


From across the camp, Albany just about spotted another figure, a much smaller one, a figure she was adamant she had seen before. More specifically, last night during the onslaught.


“Ezra?” She called out to the boy, making her way towards him. What on earth was he doing up so early? And more importantly, why the hell was he assigned to accompany them on this trip if he was prone to attacks like the one she witnessed? The figure turned round and locked eyes with her, by which point she had closed most of the distance. Despite saving his life, they had never actually spoken to each other. Not properly, anyway. She doubted he even knew her name. Consequently, Albany suddenly felt a little unsure what to say.


“You should be resting.” Was all the woman could manage, and she offered him the most disapproving look she could muster, despite the tangible hypocrisy of that pathetic statement.

 

[RecAgenda]

Stepping back inside another latrine trailer was a bit difficult at first, but Ezra's morning dosage of fluoxetine quickly kicked in and helped suppress his anxiety. Soon, the young man was able to remain perfectly calm, though with a slight smile on his face due to the effects of the drug inhibiting the reuptake of his system's serotonin; the body's chemical key to happiness. In hindsight, it wasn't as though Ezra was on cloud nine, but he also won't be allowed to operate heavy machinery either. Not that a fourteen year-old would need to, anyway.


With the warm water of the shower pouring down his body in subtle waves and tickling trickles, Ezra Nash leaned his head against the wall of his stall and mentally replayed images from the night prior. If he had tried to absorb his mind in those same images before the drug had taken its effect, he would have been balled up on the floor of the shower instead of standing on his own two feet. In a seemingly vain effort to try and become stronger, the boy forced himself to revisit painful, terrifying moments in his memory. However, no matter how many times he tried this, it was always the same; he would go right back to being a paranoid, panicking coward if he made the same attempt later off of the fluoxetine.


Turning off the shower head, Ezra stood naked in the humid mist surrounding him and slowly pulled his mind out of the nightmarish thoughts before slowly reaching a hand through the curtain to grab his towel on the outside hanger. Once outside of the shower stall he was moving normally and had gone back to thinking about typical teenage things; like how he was going to convince Keira to get his game console through the gate during a later supply run.


Once he was fully dried off and dressed, choosing to wear a satin-grey nylon jersey, matching running pants, and tennis shoes, he casually walked toward the mess tent where he could smell the inviting aromas of freshly cooked breakfast. He kept his white, damp towel draped around his neck and held onto both ends with his hands. His messy hair was still wet, but the darkened strands were already breaking out in their naturally wild form.


"Ezra?" a woman's voice had called from behind. The young man stopped and casually turned around at the waist, casting an innocent glance in the direction of the person addressing him. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the face. When he realized who it was, his eyes widened.


"You're-"


"You should be resting," Ms. Terrace interrupted. She had a motherly scowl on her face.


This was really the first good look that Ezra ever had of the woman. From what he remembered during the two months of preparation before the mission, she was a Cambridge student studying... Something to do with biology? he tried to remember. Astrobiology? No... or maybe something along those lines. There was something else though... it had an 'x' in it.


"Oh!" he said with a cartoonist grin before earnestly pointing at her like he had just remembered the answer to a test question. "You're the exobiologist! ...Right?"


Of course, Ezra clearly recognized the woman that had saved his life only the night before; but with the fluoxetine, his mind has a tendency to bounce between random details when attempting to correlate known facts to stimuli.


Before the woman could respond, Ezra blinked once before observing aloud, "...You're tall."

 

[Rosie]

Out of everything she was expecting the boy to say, none of them toppled from between his grinning lips. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten, or at least that was how it looked to her. Of course, this theory was highly unlikely, so Albany put it down to any prescribed medication he may be on to treat his anxiety. Poor boy definitely seemed to need it.


"You're the exobiologist! ...Right?"


Albany grinned at his eventual recognition, feeling almost proud, as if she had been called out in public. That she was, and yet despite the age gap, she didn’t doubt that he was still probably smarter than her, and most likely had a full time job back home with a steady wife to go back to at the end of the day at the rate his brain was whirring at.


"...You're tall."


Now that she was expecting. Being told how massive she was didn’t sit right with her most of the time, but when it came to kids, they normally said it out of amazement or total shock, meaning they would remember her. The more egotistical side of Albany (roughly 70%) liked that. Such juxtaposing attitudes were revealed when a young girl said a similar thing, and then proceeded to tell her she looked like a queen. After that, Albany refused to go by anything less than ‘Your Majesty’. That was, until her roommate threatened to exile her from her own dormitory.


“Why thankyou!” She responded happily with a wide grin. “My family are certified giants in most places. Probably including Zamin.” To her surprise, Ezra actually chuckled at what she was saying. This was most unsual, seeing as her conversations with children often included her using very untrendy words and embarrassing both them and herself until one of them eventually plucked up the courage to leave the room and gain some piece of mind.


“I’m here to write my dissertation for University. It’s pretty much about the aliens that live here. Which is why I need your help.” Ezra’s ears pricked up and he listened intently while Albany knelt in front of him so he was no longer plunged into the darkness of her shadow. “I want to try and take a look at one of those things that were here last night. One of them is probably in the zoology tent. What I need you to do is use your big eyes and get us both in so we can check it out. How does that sound?” Albany asked Ezra hopefully, knowing that people are way more sympathetic towards kids with gravity defying hair and rosy cheeks than an overgrown specimen like her.


“Maybe seeing them in a position where they can’t hurt you, and learning about them may make you less scared? Applying logic to fear tends to be the best way of diminishing it. I’ll be there and so will a bunch of professionals who can tell us all about them.” Then again, she had to offer him an alternative, not wanting to force him into anything he was uncomfortable with. “Of course you don’t have to. I’ll be happy with whatever you choose.” Giving him a warm smile, she waited patiently on his answer. It might also be a good opportunity for her to get to know him better, as she normally found through experience that when someone finds out you’re established in your field, they assume there’s nothing else to you.

 

[Syrena]

The handheld radio crackled with tight-lipped confirmation, and then static swelled out of the device and crashed nosily into the air. Clara jerked, abruptly collapsing onto the moist ground. Dampness seeped into the dry patches of her jeans. Her red tank top crept up her stomach, and she felt her sweat leach hungrily into her black, leather jacket.


She coughed. And shook her head. Exhaustion swept away the last dregs of adrenaline. Clara awkwardly clipped the radio onto her pants again. The bursts of static happened less frequently, and she was no longer privy to all the lines of communication. She frowned. The lack of voices floating out of the radio made her feel alone.


Clara tilted her head to the night sky. The bright camp lights made it hard to see the stars. She blinked and studied the ugly puncture wounds covering Specialist Fields’ body. The artificial light gave the punctures deep black shadows outlined with dried blood and ripped fabric. But the post-mortem blood loss made his twisted neck look like wax, and a jagged piece of bone pressed unevenly against the skin.


Her radio suddenly spat noise—nothing easily articulate—and she swallowed hard, looking away from the body and accidentally at the crushed creature.


Nausea rolled in her stomach. Clara struggled to her feet. Her muscles shook, resistant to her weight. Empty time weighed heavily on her shoulders. She started to pace. The nausea died in a stillborn heap in the pit of her stomach. She felt it straining uncomfortably against the soft tissue of her gut. Clara shuddered and hot, watery bile fizzed up her throat and past her lips.


Her chest heaved with deep, wet coughs. She automatically pressed her cold hands against her stomach. The coolness of her fingers felt good against her jacket-covered skin, and the contrast of temperature snapped her out of the coughing fit.


“Ma’am.”


Clara tensed. “Yes.” Her voice came out in a croak.


“Are you alright?”


She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ChapStick and saliva smeared across her lips. “Yeah. But Fields.” She turned carefully around and gestured uselessly in the direction of the body. “He’s dead. One of those creatures ripped him open. But his broken neck was likely the cause of death.” She stopped and licked her lips. The smeared ChapStick and salvia tasted sour.


The medic nodded but did not step forward. His young face looked ashy and pale. Clara followed his line of vision to the crushed monster. Most of the body wasn’t visible. The latrine door hide the monster’s core, but two of its clawed limbs stuck out.


“Fields. You can’t leave him here.”


The medic jerked. He clenched his left hand tightly around a bag of emergency medical equipment and finally stepped forward. Another ASF specialist—Clara vaguely recognized the name patched into his mostly pristine uniform—flanked the medic with a partially raised pistol. They watched as the medic knelt by the body and checked for a pulse as a routine formality. After a moment the medic shook his head and motioned for his companions.


The rest of the group cautiously inched forward and settled a white stretcher on the ground. An older man carefully rolled Fields onto the stretcher. The former ASF specialist’s head lolled grotesquely to the side as the group heaved the body off the ground.




Clara poked disinterestedly at her egg. Bits of yellow yoke splattered across the paper plate and dotted the edges of her bacon. She dropped her fork and watched it wobbly, unbalanced, in the air for a brief second before landing on the plate. Pieces of waffle jumped off the plate and landed on her tray. Light brown syrup oozed over the mess.


She sighed and flopped against the back of her chair. Her wet hair puddled around her shoulders, and seeped into the fabric of her tan colored tank top. The cool dampness of her hair made her skin prickle with gooseflesh. She reflexively shivered and rubbed her hands against her bare arms.


“Miss Sandiego?”


Clara made a noncommittal noise.


“You were at the latrine trailer last night.”


It wasn’t a question. Clara sat up and twisted in her chair. The zoology director stood near her, and a group of oblivious scientists lingered at the entrance of the tent picking up breakfast trays. Their shadows stretched across the ground under the glare of artificial light visible from the large crack in the tent flaps.


“Yes.” She turned to face her breakfast again. “I was there.”


Dr. Kraus wrung his hands—once—in a nervous gesture. Then, he approached the table and took a seat. Clara pursed her lips. She resumed poking at her egg and waffle. And the scientists near the door finally settled at a table in the middle of the room. Clara could smell their breakfast and hear bits and pieces of their animated conversations.


“One of the creatures was recovered…” He paused.


“So?”


“I was wondering if you’d like to see the body and, perhaps, offer some insight.”


Clara stood and disposed of her breakfast tray. "Sure."

 

[RecAgenda]

“Maybe seeing them in a position where they can’t hurt you," Ms. Terrace had begun to say, "and learning about them may make you less scared? Applying logic to fear tends to be the best way of diminishing it. I’ll be there and so will a bunch of professionals who can tell us all about them.”


Ezra may be under the influence of a happy pill, but he still felt a tad patronized by the way she had worded almost everything in her proposal. Shaking his head in response to her alternative, the boy replied, "No, it's cool. The zoology team's director likes me, so I can get us in easily. But...," he pointed a finger at her and, with a the most serious expression he could muster, insisted, "you have to have breakfast with me afterward." He then placed a hand over his vibrating stomach. "I'm starving here!"


As promised, Ezra walked Ms. Terrace over to the zoology team's main tent. Two A-Sec specialists were guarding the entrance flap. Normally, his nerves would have already started to work themselves up over coming so closed to heavily armed men, but the drug helped ease any anxiety, so he was able to put one foot in front of the other with little trouble.


"Excuse me," he began to the sergeant standing to the right of the entrance. As Ms. Terrace had suggested earlier in regards to his "big eyes", he was already using his signature puppy-dog expression. "Is Dr. Kraus in there? He asked to see us." It could have just been the intense-looking armor that made the sergeant appear overly bulky, but his size alone could only be achieved if his actual physique was in peak condition. Scrawny Ezra had absolutely no interest in body building, but he could tell this guy hit the gym everyday.


"Wait here, kid," the man ordered with a gruffy voice. Ezra felt his eye twitch over the usual "kid" treatment, even though he knew there was really nothing he could do about it but to take every advantage of it when the opportunities present themselves. The sergeant stepped inside the tent for a moment and Ezra could hear his muffled voice just beyond. A second later, he emerged with a shorter man with black and grey-streaked hair behind him. The teen immediately recognized the trimmed goatee of Dr. Vernon Kraus, the zoology team's director.


"Ezra!" the man exclaimed with a wide smile. "Here to take a closer look at our big catch, eh? Come on in, please! You too, Miss Terrace!" As expected, the woman had been waved in easily since she was tagging along. Kraus had taken a liking to Ezra. Or was it his brain that the man most admired? Regardless, anything the young Nash wanted, Kraus would most certainly attempt to provide.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Commander Titus looked at the pale and ugly corpse of one of the humanoid monsters that attacked his camp the night prior, lying still on the examination slab in the middle of the zoology tent. Several of Odyssey’s top microbiologists and zoologists also stood with him on all sides of the slab. Two of them were busy scratching notes on pads attached to their plastic clipboards, while others were balancing computer tablets or leaning in for a closer look at the macabre creature.


“As we initially suspected last night, sir,” Dr. Kraus began after returning from being summoned by one of Titus' posted guards outside, “this species is easily subdued by any kind of focused light source. Its skin tissue even begins to alter under harsh lighting conditions, and this goes for both artificial and natural sources. Ultraviolet light, however, seems to have the most potent effect; which would indicate that the creatures are strictly nocturnal and most probably won’t be found on the surface during the day.”


“Do they feel pain when light hits them?” Titus asked, curious.


“While it is clear that the specimen’s nervous system shows increased activity when light is focused on the skin, it is unclear whether or not the receptors are registering pain signals to the brain. Unless we have a live specimen, it is uncertain what they feel, physically or mentally, when cast under intense light.”


One of the others around the table spoke up next. “And that’s where I ought to step in,” he said with a glare toward the scientist. Titus recognized the new speaker as someone from the ethics team, which was in charge of human relations and sound practice during the expedition. His name was Benjamin Jarvis, and he was the type to really get under the commander's skin with nagging lectures. “I’m against capturing live test subjects for the purpose of finding out how they experience pain, commander. No matter how vile and twisted these creatures may seem, such actions are wrong and disgusting.”


“We're in a different universe, Benjamin,” Dr. Kraus replied. “And we have almost no information to go off of when it comes to the indigenous ecosystem and animal life – or anything, for that matter! We should fully understand what we're up against before entrusting our defense systems to light bulbs.”


“Last time I checked, Vernon,” Jarvis rebutted, “ethics aren't just thrown out the window after simply walking through a hole in the fabric of space-time.”


"I think you're too easily forgetting that A-Sec lost two good men last night. Two men that were armed to the teeth with the most advanced weapons Apex has put out on the private markets, and body armor designed to stop shrapnel from high-grade explosives." Kraus jabbed a finger toward the corpse in front of him. "The teeth on this thing punctured right through that armor, after leaping on its victim before he could fire off a single round."


"And a pit bull biting the hand of its neighbor doesn't give someone the right to harass it for the rest of its life in total, deprivating captivity!"


"This humanoid monster did more than just bite someone's hand, animal lover!"


"Oh, that's rich, coming from someone in your line of work!"


As the two eggheads continued to argue with one another about right-and-wrong, Titus rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger and thought about what it would take to satisfy the two of them. "Alright!" he exclaimed loudly, getting the two scientists to quiet down and everyone else in the tent to turn his way. "We'll switch out the light-all bulbs on the perimeter with UV bulbs for tonight. It’s still a measure of self-defense, so that should satisfy any ethical considerations, right Professor Jarvis? Doctor, will your team be able to tell whether or not the creatures are experiencing pain when they come into contact with the light if I were to put you in close with a security detail?"


The zoologist looked at his colleague from the ethics team and then glanced back to Titus. "With the help of a medical VI, I think we can produce verifiable results and-"


"Good! It’s settled. Anyone else have any input on these things?"

 

[Rosie]

"I'm starving here!"


Albany’s lips spread into a grin, and she nodded in agreement. Like she even needed to consider it. The boy seemed pretty calm, and she felt strangely protective over him. Although she would never tell him (and, no doubt, he was already more than aware), he was also rather sweet. Any worries of her accidentally belittling him were dashed when he agreed, and she strode alongside next to him.


“Deal.”


------------------------------------------------


There was an acute smell within the tent, probably coming from the rotting corpse that lay just behind a separating curtain. Albany found herself physically itching to get behind it and just see the damn thing already. Kraus seemed simply wonderful, and when he clasped her hand in a firm grip, she found herself almost giggling gleefully.


“Thankyou so much. We won’t be long. I’ve promised Ezra breakfast.” She joked, glancing at Ezra who was nodding vigorously beside her. She was actually meaning to discuss some kind of VIP pass with Titus at some point, considering her purpose her revolved around the inhabitants of the planet, Albany felt as though she should be spending half her time geeking out in here and scribbling down her first draft, and the other half split between eating breakfast food and wading into the unknown on the lookout for other creatures to pour her attention over. Preferably in a hat similar to Indiana Jones’. Nevertheless, the mere thought made her almost squeak with excitement. The possibilities were endless, and she was bent on discovering all of them.


When Kraus was called back through, she ushered Ezra with her and simply slipped in behind him, standing quietly so they didn’t arouse too much attention just yet. Around the slab that was the centrepiece of the room stood a small group of people. She recognised them all to be microbiologists and zoologists, specifically selected to accompany Titus on this trip, of course. Albany felt as though she was staring straight at her future. Everyone looked so intuitive and self regulating. She could see the cogs turning while they talked amongst themselves.


When the argument began, Albany listened intently, feeling as though she should give some kind of input in order to fix the problem. Of course, she was swaying more towards just keeping one of those things alive and testing their pain receptors until her brain turned numb. However, she willed herself to remain neutral.


“Anyone else have any input on these things?"


Her lower lip was violently sucked on. Don’t do it, Albany. Just keep your mouth shut.


“May I accompany this experiment?” The woman piped up, much to her own frustration. When all eyes landed on her, she wanted the ground to swallow her up. But, she also felt pressed to continue. “I’m studying the effects of extra-terrestrial environments on living things for educational purposes. I feel as though this would be a beneficial opportunity for me.” When finished (and thank god she did), Albany stood up a little straighter, hoping she didn’t look as much of an invasive idiot as she felt.

 

[RecAgenda]

Titus looked over his shoulder at the woman that had spoken up with her request to accompany Dr. Kraus. He blinked once as he tried to remember her face. One of the younger biologists, I believe. What's her name again?


Giving up, the commander eventually asked flatly, "And who are you?"


--------------------------------


With a loud yawn, Professor Virgil stretched his arms into the air after exiting his tent and bent his back just enough until he heard--and felt--a loud pop in his spine that made him exclaim, "Ouch! Son of a-! That felt fantastic!" Rubbing his back, the man started to walk up the row toward the mess tents where he could smell the breakfast from downwind. His hair was still a little damp from his earlier shower and he was counting on the added gel to keep the wind from making it unruly as it dried.


Along the way, he saw Dr. Gray exiting the female latrines and waved his hand. "Morning, doc!" he hollered.


---------------------------------


Inside of the BDOC tent, Mjolnir Siegrune reclined in a metal folding chair with his combat boots kicked up and resting a card table in the back corner. A fellow Valkyrie, a Gram-class kid codenamed Mist, was busy reading one of the books he had brought along with him in his gear pack. Siegrune could just make out the title on the cover. War and Peace, Part I.





"Tolstoy, eh?" the older veteran asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation. He hadn't known Mist for too long, nor did any of the others. Mist was a new recruit that had only been with the PMC for six months before being assigned to the Odysseus attachment. The kid was smart, very smart; but he lacked experience and, at times, perspective.


"You've read it, sir?" the young man sort of asked in return.


"Only the first couple o' pages. I tried to pick it up a long time ago, but it bored me half to death. How can you stomach that garbage?"


Mist smirked and answered, "'The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.'"


Judging the words to have been quoted, Siegrune inquired, "Which of your dead philosopher's said that?"


"Dr. Seuss."


"Hmm."


"Eh-Excuse me, sir?"


Siegrune looked over to the ASF lieutenant that was calling to him. "What is it?" the Mjolnir demanded, obviously not happy with the tone of uncertainty and worry that the specialist had when he asked for him.


"You're gonna want to come take a look at this..." The man was pointing to a screen relaying a live feed from one of the recon drones that had been sent up into low-altitudes earlier that morning. Grumbling, Siegrune begrudgingly got up from his comfortable position in the back and marched over to the terminal. When he leaned over to get a closer look, his eyes betrayed a hint of intrigue.


"Well..." he murmured. "Isn't that cute."

 

[Rosie]

Commander Titus’ squinted eyes indicated to Albany that he must have forgotten who she was. She wasn’t surprised, and couldn’t expect him to stay on top of all the people that accompanied him here. Nevertheless, Albany didn’t appreciate his stale tone. It made her feel undervalued, which the woman knew was not true. Her lack of sleep was rearing its ugly head and was about to bite her in the ass.


“Albany Regan Terrace. Exobiologist. Tent 5-C.” Alright, maybe her tent location wasn’t vital information, but she put it down to force of habit. Her upstanding tone stood by her, and she offered him a small salute upon introducing herself. Then, her eyes forcibly darted to Dr. Kraus, but she didn’t dare stare hopefully at him for too long, she was embarrassingly sure that the desperation to shadow him was evident in her ever so rosy expression.


------------------------------------------------------


"I can't believe you're leaving me on my own with Cassie for two whole months." Albany's ever loving roomie whined as she spread herself out on the bed, gazing at her with a pouting expression. In return, Albany rolled her eyes and stuffed another pair of shoes into her bag. "Who's going to be my scary tall friend to ward off creepy guys when we go out?" Arielle demanded to the woman, who was now glaring at the source of the noise.


"I'm sure you'll live." She muttered in response, a large part of her being thankful to get away from the hub of her roommates. She wasn't antiosocial, in fact, she was far from it. When she arrived to her first lecture, she was asked by three people if she was in the right place because she was so talkative. At least there were no awkward silences. Despite this prominent attribute, she had a tendency to find her roomies exhausting. The stress and nerves of the expedition had been bubbling in the pit of her stomach since she was enrolled, and now it was actually happening. Oh god, what if she was completely out of her depth? "Anyway, it's good practise. And it gives you unprecedented access to my wardrobe if you fancy wearing any of my t-shirts as dresses." The sentiment seemed to cheer her up.


------------------------------------------------------


Albany's first meeting with Commander Titus was rather frantic on her behalf. Of course, the man was completely undisturbed. The juxtaposition made the whole experience all the more painful for her. Upon greeting her, he said what she imagined he had said to every person involved in this.


"I'm very excited to have you on this trip."


That was pretty much all she needed to get a brain freeze. Everyone here looked so proficient. Moving away and going to University was a breeze in comparison to this, and all she was doing was having a conversation. The woman let out a rather short lived surge of laughter, not being able to get a grip on her body. She knew how embarrassed she must have looked, but much to her surprise, the Commander grinned back at her, actually complimenting her rather erratic excitement before moving onto the next person. That went rather terribly, but not as awful as she had anticipated.


Since then, Albany gathered time to get to know him during her training, and in the end, she found herself trusting him profusely. He was severe in his commands at times, but she knew it was because he only expected the best from then. She was determined to prove herself.

 

[Syrena]

Keira sighed and rolled over.


The bed sheets scratched unpleasantly against her skin. She kicked the sheets haphazardly to the ground, and peeled pieces of her dark hair away from her face. Moist, stagnant air soaked into her grey sweatpants and raggedy camisole.


She pushed herself upright. Her head swam stuffy with lingering exhaustion and hazy night terrors. Keira leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. The suffocating exhaustion and dusty terrors gradually passed—though the exhaustion remained—and she fumbled for her wristband.


The projected display was bright in the gloom of the tent. She blinked blearily at the assorted menus and functions, and carefully found the time near the bottom of the display. It was early; just after six. Keira dropped the wristband back onto the bedside table without deactivating the projection. The display floated eerily in the empty air before an automatic trigger closed the virtual projection.


She yawned, loudly, and carefully climbed out of bed. Her head didn’t swim with the movement, and the tent walls stayed perfectly erect. But she still bent slowly to make a half-hearted movement to pull the sheets over her bed. The sheets clung to the sharp corners of her bed, and it took time to smooth the lump of sheets into something resembling the original pristine presentation.


Keira groaned at her sloppy handiwork. The uneven sheets tugged at her nerves. She pursed her lips, though, and absently looked around the tent. Clara’s mismatched clothes still dotted her otherwise untouched bed, and Evans was still snoring under a heap of blankets and pillows. The mess helped sooth her fragile, pre-coffee nerves.


She moved to the chest at the foot of her bed and collected her shower tote bag and a change of clothes. Then, she moved back to her bedside table and picked up her wristband. Notifications didn’t blink against the dark screen. She slipped the watch into her tote bag and let herself out of the tent.


The yellow sun was still distant; a vague promise of fiery warmth. And the humidity was slightly worse outside the tent. Keira scrunched her hair away from her neck and twisted the long, dark strands into a messy bun. She held her the bun together with one hand and rooted around in her shower bag for a clip to secure her hair. The clip held most of her hair; though several unruly pieces fell over her left eye.


She shuffled toward the female latrines.




Keira felt better.


The hot water had washed away the sticky sweat and most of the exhaustion. But she stared listlessly at the foggy mirror. Her reflection was hazy and distorted. Keira used a towel to wipe away the steam and fix her damp hair. She fussed with the curls for several minutes before letting them hang loosely around her shoulders.


She carefully packed up her shower items and walked back outside. The air was warmer now; the sun wasn’t quite a distant promise. Keira stretched lazily, starting down the ramp. She wandered aimlessly through the rows of tents instead of going back to her assigned area.


Her stomach started to gurgle close to seven. She started back down the row of tents to her assigned sleeping area, passing the female latrines, and saw Professor Virgil. He waved. Keira forced a small smile and waved back.


“Morning!” She repeated. “How are you?”


"Still half asleep," he replied after a small yawn. "Need some coffee. Care to join me?" He had continued walking passed her toward the mess pavilion up ahead.


“Oh, god, yes. Please.” She sprinted forward a step, catching up to the professor. “You don’t look like much of a morning person. Did Ezra wake you?”


"Nope," Virgil quickly answered. "He was quiet as a mouse. Say, how long have you known him?"


“Several years, now. He was a little boy when we met the first time.” She smiled fondly.


Tom offered a slight laugh and he quipped, "He's kinda small now. But tell me about you." The man turned his head slightly to look at her in his peripheral while they walked. "What made you want to become a psychiatrist?"


“I like puzzles.” She paused. “And the human mind is the greatest puzzle. The most complex. It’s fascinating—too fascinating—and terribly unstable. You think you know something. But then something changes, and everything you thought you knew is useless.” Keira paused and licked her lips. “What about you? What made you leave Harvard to come here?”


"Well," Tom began, "as I'm sure you know, I'm not really a professor. Not yet, anyway. I'm only in the university's 'Junior Professorship Program'." He made air quotes with the words and mixed in a contemptuous tone. "You have to have actual field experience, positive recognition, and credibility before any of the ivy leagues will even consider you. Even then, you have to have a recommendation, followed by an invitation. That's how they're running the show nowadays. America's education system is so inflated. Degrees are handed out like candy. Thus, when everyone has one, paradoxically, no one is of value." He raised his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers. "So, I need some experience. Evenway's invitation seemed promising, and hell... who in their right mind turns down an opportunity given by that man, am I right?"


Keira laughed and a lazy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Very few people deny Isaac Evenway anything. He’s brilliant and certainly not a force to trifle with lightly. Although, I nearly turned him down. I already had everything I aspired for as a little girl and more. All this,” she gestured absently around her, “was so alien and nothing like any of any of my wildest dreams. I didn’t know what to think, and I saw Evenway frequently. It was awkward.”


Her smiled faded slightly. “Then, Ezra received an invitation… It was only a matter of time, and he was curious. Especially after the first, successful trip thought the gate. His gate. But I wasn’t so sure his curiosity was substantial enough to journey here and survive. Or if he really wanted to come. And when I refused to sign the paperwork—Dr. Evenway and I fought for weeks.” She ducked into the mess pavilion with Virgil. “Eventually I decided to let Ezra come and, a little later, I finally accepted the invitation, too.” Keira smiled hesitantly again. “I think being here is a good thing. For Ezra. And for me. Despite last night.”




Clara leaned against a Formica table with a to-go cup of coffee. The edge of the table bit uncomfortably into her waistline and she shifted awkwardly. She took a sip of hot liquid and carefully looked at the pale corpse. In the daylight the creature looked less monstrous. Its skinny, almost anorexic, frame lured the human senses to a deceptively harmless conclusion. Though the sharp claws and teeth still made the stale tent air crackle with lethal implications.


She frowned and studied some of the chicken-scratch notes clipped to plastic boards. Most of the information was a confirmation of what she had learned last night. She put the clipboard and attached notes back on the table as Commander Titus and a contingent of scientists and committee members walked into the limited viewing space. A member of the ethic committee—Benjamin Jarvis—brushed purposely against her elbow.


The coffee in her cup sloshed forward and dripped onto her hand. Clara shook her hand, unafraid of contaminating the corpse or the equipment. Several brown drops of coffee landed on Benjamin’s shoes. He didn’t notice, and Doctor Vernon Kraus reentered the viewing space before Benjamin could pick another fight with Clara. They’d already explosively tangled twice during the two-month training period over archeology dig site permissions.


Commander Titus started a line of inquiry, and Clara took another swig of coffee. Her all-nighter was starting to drag against her senses. She listened half-heartedly to the familiar information, idly studying the occupants in the room. Almost everyone was taking notes on plastic clipboards. Though the girl from last night and Ezra Nash stood quietly to the side. Until Kraus mentioned something about live test subjects. Then, predictably, Benjamin kicked up a fuss and she watched Albany fidget, too.


Clara stifled a yawn as Titus put a quick end to the argument, and Albany, no longer able to stay silent, asked to join the team. She took another swig of coffee as Albany verified her credentials for Titus and shot the zoology director a hopeful look. The lukewarm caffeine didn’t help her sudden growing unease about the potential experiment.


“Before this pans out any further,” Clara started before the commander could accept or deny Albany’s request. “You should know that they hunt in packs. There were several of these…things…at the trailer. And there was certainly a strong suggestion of teamwork.”

 

[RecAgenda]

“Before this pans out any further,” Clara started before the commander could accept or deny Albany’s request. “You should know that they hunt in packs. There were several of these…things…at the trailer. And there was certainly a strong suggestion of teamwork.”


"True," Kraus agreed. "But if we stayed behind the lighting of the perimeter, they shouldn't pose much of a threat. We'll also have A-Sec there with us, right, commander?"


Titus nodded before looking to Albany for a second to weigh his decision. "An exobiologist is a...?" Titus began to ask, turning back to Dr. Kraus for some help with a raised brow.


Kraus smirked, no doubt in jest toward the commander's ignorance and happily replied, "Miss Terrace is a student of a very specific astrobiological discipline that incorporates a range of different sciences in order to study the possibility of life beyond earth and the effects that other worlds would have on living organisms." Kraus held his fingers below his goatee, looked down at the creature, and said indirectly to Albany, "As I recall, miss, you've only completed your second year towards your masters, correct? Normally, I would object to involving inexperienced youth in such dangerous experiments, no matter what raw talent they may possess. However, given the circumstances...," he raised his head before continuing to look at Titus, with Albany just in the background beyond, "...I believe she'd be a great asset, commander."


Titus's remained locked with the doctor's for a long moment. The silence that had settled in the air left everyone slightly paralyzed, wondering what the man's decision would be. Finally, he turned to face Terrace directly and said with an authoritative voice, "Fine. You can go with-"


Before he could finish his words, a runner from BDOC burst through the main flap of the tent. The young corporal was nearly out of breath, an obvious sign that he had sprinted at full speed from start to finish, and buckled over to catch his breath while simultaneously trying to spit out an eager message.


"S-sir! Y-your radio wasn't..."


Already annoyed, Titus barked, "My radio wasn't on, so they sent you to tell meee...?!"


"Indi-...," the young man then got it together and straight out as best as he could, relaying, "Indigenous forces spotted five klicks north and heading toward Ground Zero!"




“I think being here is a good thing," Keira had said with a half-smile. "For Ezra. And for me. Despite last night.”


Tom finished stirring his coffee and took a small taste-testing sip. He immediately grimaced at the taste. "Blegh! Whoever made this coffee needs to not brew any more again. That's at least two scoops more than what's needed for a twelve-cup carafe." The professor started to reach for more sugar to balance out the ridiculous strength of the flavor when he saw a specialist sprinting at full speed past the mess pavilion. There was an expression on the young man's face that betrayed his alarmed state.


Calmly, Tom shifted his eyes back to Dr. Grey and quietly said, "Pour out that cup and let me brew another pot for us, doc. In the next few minutes, you're probably going to appreciate having tasted something as simple as a good cup of coffee." Without another word, Tom stood up from his seat and emptied the pour drink onto the ground at the edge of the table before turning back to the long line of tables presenting food and beverages at the edge of the pavilion.

 

[Rosie]

A straight set of flashing teeth shone against the murky green of the tent walls when Albany received the (partially vocalised) approval from Commander Titus. Accompanying that, Dr Kaus had boosted her already inflated ego tenfold. The only thing that would make that moment simply perfect was if her hair didn’t look uncanny to a birds nest, and if she had a fresh coat of mascara lining her lashes. Oh, and if a runner hadn’t just burst through the entrance in desperate need of a cold flannel and some kind of inhaler. Albany couldn’t help but allow her heart to sink in her chest when her Commander was prevented from finishing his sentence. Then again, the term “indigenous forces” did not sit well with her, or anyone else in sight.


Her mind instantly casting to Ezra next to her, she feared he’d have another anxiety attack, and she simply couldn’t see him go through that again. This was none of their business unless explicitly told otherwise, and common sense urged her to get the hell out of there. It was their cue to leave. Foreshadowing arrangements could be agreed upon at a later date. Right now, her priority was distracting the boy she had gotten into this mess in the first place.


“I think we’re going to grab some breakfast. Thankyou again, I promise I won’t let you down.” The now rather tense woman said to Dr Kraus, who spared a small glance behind him at the two. Looking to Ezra, she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion.


“You still up for breakfast? I don’t think it’s too far from here.” Placing a hand on his back in the most gentle encouragement she could muster, Albany began to make her way back to the exit, hoping the boy was complacent for their own safety, but still shooting the figure on the slab one last fascinated gaze. She knew what was to come would be swimming round her mind until the Commander’s promises were met.

 

[Syrena]

Keira dropped her tote bag. Her shower supplies rolled against one side of the bag, and the canvas fabric brushed absently against her pants. She shuffled slightly away from the bag, reaching for a cup and coffee carafe. Tom sputtered as she added a heaping spoonful of white sugar to her cup. Keira watched his grimace fade, but choose to ignore the warning.


She took a sip of her beverage. Bitterness, despite the sugar, dragged against her tongue and burned down her throat. “God.” Keira croaked and licked her lips. Her flavored lip-gloss added an odd aftertaste to the bitterness. “That’s awful. Really awful.” She took another sip anyway, bracing for the bad taste, and caught a blur of motion outside the pavilion.


What the heck?


Tom stood in a fluid, easy motion with promises of decent tasting coffee. Keira eyed her cup wearily, and then the puddle of brown liquid seeping into the ground. “Okay.” She carefully tipped her cup over, momentarily forgetting the blur of motion. “You better brew something amazing, though.”




She grimaced behind her Styrofoam cup. “Yeah. A-Sec.”


The leftover dregs of coffee sloshed agitatedly against the sides of her cup. Clara dropped her gaze to the dead creature draped across the plain table. Its claws were lax; standing in the crowded tent hadn’t changed anything. She shifted. The table behind her rattled, and the conversation rolled into technical definitions and estimations of personal achievement.


Albany’s tension radiated across the room; hot and thick, and growing as a heavy silence spread across the room. She watched Titus’ face for sublet micro-expressions. The faint expressions betrayed nothing. Clara licked her lips. A little bit of Albany’s garden-variety anticipation swelled in her stomach like butterflies, too.


“Fine. You can go with—” Titus abruptly stopped speaking.


The tent flaps rustled violently and a panting, red-faced corporal stumbled into the tent. His knees buckled dangerously. But he forced himself upright and spit out his message. Clara’s anticipation burst into a bubble of dread; the butterflies in her stomach dropped leadenly inside her gut.


She swallowed and pushed away from the table. Chaotic activity fluttered loudly around her. Titus disappeared, the scientists next to her hastily dropped their notes, and Albany asked Ezra to breakfast. Clara dumped her coffee cup on the table. Soggy, brown watermarks seeped into the pile of notes she was using as a coaster; the chicken-scratch scrawls bled together.


Clara watched the ink lift away from the paper and seep down the edges. The mess vaguely reminded her of the gore sinking into the dusty ground last night. She abruptly lurched forward, awkwardly shoving past Benjamin and Kraus.


“Titus. Wait.”


The canvas tent flaps pulled at her loose hair as she stumbled outside. She paused in the sunlight, blinking and suddenly indecisive. The wet humid air and the relative inaction hanging over the neat rows of tents made her feel—she turned in a quick semi-circle before she could think further and spotted Titus.


She sprinted to catch up and slipped in between the corporal and the commander. Their pace was brisk—not quite a jog—and it took a moment for Clara to fall into step. “Titus.” She lengthened her stride and stopped in front of him. “I want to help. And not by herding scientists.”

 

[RecAgenda]

"We're seeing multiple organized infantry formations and a large cavalry formation at the lead. No siege assets or distinguishing machines. Long-range archers are set up in the rear formations. Estimated thirty arrows per quiver according to what we can see at the drone's angle."


Titus listened to the radio chatter between BDOC and his field captains that were already busy scrambling A-Sec's QRF teams. A lot of the chatter was also meant for him, with his combat controllers knowing he was tuning in. Judging by their collected and controlled tones, no one was worried or seemed to be losing composure. It helped to see a threat coming at you far in advance; something Titus wished they would have had the advantage of last night. Furthermore, the information provided indicated that this new enemy--or possible enemy--is hardly much of a threat. No siege weapons? Swords and horses? Bows and arrows? The thundering sound of a high-caliber rifle should be enough to send them packing.


He had thought he heard his name called once soon after leaving the zoology tent, but had ignored it to focus on the radio. When he heard it a second time, he turned his head while keeping his pace to recognize and acknowledge Clara Sandiego. There was a certain look of determination and conviction in her eyes. When she sped up and stopped in front of him, forcing the commander to come to an unexpected halt, she flatly said, “I want to help. And not by herding scientists.”


John raised an intrigued brow. "Oh? I've seen that look before on the faces of several men and women. Some were A-Sec; others were U.S. Marines. That's a look that says you want a gun. That you want to learn how to shoot and survive. That you want a purpose to go with that gun." He paused to let his observations sink in. "Am I right or am I wrong, Sandiego?"


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"There we go," Tom said while pouring the steaming hot liquid of the freshly brewed coffee into a new cup for Keira. "This is how coffee should be." He sat down at the table with the good doctor after returning the pot to the coffee maker behind them. As he began to open and dump a few packs of sugar and powdered creamer into his own cup, Tom began to strike up a new conversation while constantly observing ASF darting back and forth--some in crew uniform, others now in full body armor and toting weapons.


"I imagine that, after last night's incident, you'll be busy full-time in interviewing people for PTSD, right? Surely that chaos must have taken a toll on the minds of some here. Most of us are scientists, not soldiers."


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Ezra felt Albany's hand on his back and then proceeded out of the tent as she had quietly suggested. He wasn't fully comprehending what had just happened, but he knew enough to understand that someone new was nearly at the camp's doorstep. Normally he would be about to enter another state of panic and would have darted off to frantically search for Dr. Grey; but the meds were helping to suppress that reaction. Still, though, it would be a good idea anyway to seek Keira out, rather than face another situation similar to last night.


After they had started walking away from the zoology tent, Nash could make out Dr. Grey and Professor Virgil sitting together under the mess pavilion. He started to wave to Keira, who sat facing their direction, as they approached.

 

[Rosie]

Ezra appeared to be rather calm, which given the circumstances, came across as a welcome change from the night he had previously endured. Lowered eyes darted to his head that was adorned with spiky hair that was dancing in the cool morning wind, and she attempted to access her psychic abilities to divulge her sight into the inner workings of his brain, trying to piece together what exactly those meds were doing. Whatever it was, it was working. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards him, what with him being so young and brilliant. Then again, an astonishing mind often dragged along it's own baggage. For him, anxiety. For her, well, her massively inflated ego. Suppressing that gave her grim reminders of scrambling to force her suitcase shut for this expedition. Come to think of it, maybe she didn't need that many dresses.


Looking ahead, Albany vaguely recognised the two that the boy acknowledged with a friendly wave. The male.. Dr.. Vigil.. was it? If she remembered correctly, he was at the starting point of his career. Of course, this in no way diminished his credentials. And the woman facing them, Kiera, was a fully employed psychiatrist who made Albany certain that having her pick at her brain would be an honour and a privilege. Ever since she arrived here, she felt as though she was walking amongst giants (despite the painfully obvious height difference). On approaching the two, Albany gratefully took a seat opposite Dr Vigil and smiled politely at them both, forcing her eyes to remain on them and not the food displayed behind them.


"I hope I didn't keep Ezra from you both." She began, glancing at the boy for a moment. "It struck me that you're all quite close?" Albany assumed, ending it on a rather high note in case she was mistaken, not that she often was. Coming on this expedition to explore her passions was one thing, but actually making friends was a whole different ball game. One she wasn't too bad at playing, if she said so herself.

 

[Syrena]

She didn’t step back, and Titus stopped abruptly in front of her. Nearly knocking her over. Clara casually put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be a jerk.” She rolled her eyes pointedly at the commander. “Either tell me how I can help or just say no. Save the psych evaluation for Dr. Grey.”




Her spilled coffee dripped off the table. Keira absently watched it splatter against the ground. The mess created dark, quickly evaporating smudges. She sighed and reluctantly pulled a handful of coarse, paper napkins out of the dispenser on the table and mopped up the soggy mess.


Tom returned with a fresh pot of coffee, and Keira hastily turned her mug upright. The professor poured her a fresh cup. White steam lazily wafted off the top of her cup. “Thank you.”


She added cream, stirring it into her coffee with a plastic spoon. The steam dissipated but the cup still felt warm. Keira took a sip and closed her eyes. Professor Virgil’s coffee tasted good. She put her cup back on the table and fiddled with the empty cream container.


The ASF activity outside the tent was increasing. She watched Tom track the commotion. Then, turned her attention back to her cooling cup of coffee. “Yeah.” She picked up the conversation as if there hadn’t been a pause. “I’ll start interviews at the end of the week. It’s too early to recommend suspensions. The trauma is still fresh… Although, I’ve already had some people ask to leave.”


Keira took another sip of coffee and abruptly smiled. Ezra stood at the entrance of the mess pavilion with a tall, young woman and waved. The woman followed Ezra to her table and sunk into the seat across from her and next to the professor. She watched the woman’s gaze dart quickly to the food offered at the back of the tent before refocusing on the table.


“Not at all. This is,” she gestured to the professor, “Thomas Virgil. I’m Keira.” She paused and toyed with her coffee cup, trying to put a name to the young woman’s face. “And you must be Albany Terrance, right?”


She turned slightly to look at Ezra. “What did you get up to this morning?”