image [https://i.postimg.cc/3wSxzqrV/cygnus-creatures.png]
"Out, now," Maximilian ordered, as the group sprang from their seats.
The three men took off at a desperate sprint, leaving their rover behind. Darkness swallowed them almost at once, the interior of the Dolya beyond the reach of the vehicle’s headlights. Tangled beams and corroded plating served as a twisted labyrinth of broken corridors and half-collapsed bulkheads. Each footfall clanged or thumped ominously, reverberating through ancient metal. The commotion echoed, warning them that every noise might draw their pursuers closer.
Maximilian called in with ARI, and it confirmed that rest of the team had also retreated in the interior, and were currently holding the main corridor. Luo Zuri and Yao Guowei had retreated, preserving the remaining vehicles, while ARI's drones were trying to deter the swarm from finding other ways in. While the swarm was reduced to a fraction of what it was initially, there were still hundreds of insectoids remaining.
“Over here,” Pom called out, swinging his rifle’s flashlight briefly to check a branching hallway. It revealed a corridor so warped from radiation exposure that it looked melted, the alloy glistening like old wax. Maximilian gave a terse nod, and they slipped through, hearts pounding. Pell’s powered suit clanked at each movement, but he tried to keep it as quiet as possible. He clutched his heavy sidearm, his rockets and bigger weapons long abandoned outside.
The hiss of claws on metal soon reached their ears, echoing from behind. Each scrape drew a fresh jolt of terror. The aliens had found their way in. Pom cut off his flashlight, plunging them into darkness again. Together, they pressed against a curved wall, the darkness so complete they could barely see each other’s outlines.
A strange hush fell—aside from their ragged breathing and the faint grind of shifting wreckage underfoot. The corridor twisted ahead in a long, grim tunnel, where crumpled stasis pods and melted cargo racks lay scattered like tombstones of a forgotten era. Portions of the walls had caved in; the battered metal overhead occasionally dripped with condensated coolant fluids, or something less benign.
Suddenly, a vibration shook the deck plating, followed by a metallic groan. Pell froze mid-step, powersuit whirring softly to keep him upright. A chunk of overhead metal rattled, then dropped with a resounding crash, raising a cloud of dust. The three men pressed themselves into an alcove behind a slanted stasis pod shell. Somewhere behind them, new skittering sounds surged.
“They’re coming,” Pom muttered, forcing down a surge of panic. He adjusted his rifle, checking the magazine. Meanwhile, Pell tightened his grip on his sidearm, reeling from the claustrophobic sense that something was crawling just beyond the darkness. Maximilian eyed his grenade launcher—only a few rounds left.
With slow, soundless steps, they continued deeper into the corridor’s maze, guided only by faint glimmers of light piercing from cracks in the hull and the occasional dull glow from long-dead machinery. Each junction or rusted stairwell threatened to lead them into a dead end—or, worse, an ambush. The stale air carried an undercurrent of rancid musk, neither purely mechanical nor biological. It was as though decades of alien infiltration had fused with the ship’s decaying skeleton.
A sudden scrabbling from above made them freeze again. Looking up, they saw a vent hole in the ceiling, warped and caked with slime. Something passed by behind the half-shattered grate—fast and sinuous. A small chunk of plating rattled free, narrowly missing Pom’s shoulder as it crashed to the floor.
“We have to keep moving,” Maximilian hissed, mind racing. “The swarm is massive—if they pin us here, we’re finished.”
Another clang echoed from the corridor behind them, accompanied by an inhuman chitter. Their hearts hammered, fear pounding in their ears. Quietly as they could manage, they crept forward. At intervals, they paused to let clattering insectoid limbs pass down alternate corridors, grateful that the creatures seemed to be searching for them in all directions, not just locked on their specific location.
As they crept around a bend, the corridor opened into a broad, ruined storage chamber. Through a breach in the ceiling, slivers of moonlight or starlight filtered inside, revealing piles of shattered crates and twisted cargo racks. At any other time, it might have been a place to salvage potential supplies, but they had no time now. A low, guttural hiss from the left forced them to dodge behind a line of collapsed stasis pods. Pom raised his rifle, ready to fire, but Maximilian pressed a hand to his weapon, silently signaling him to hold. Any shot would echo through the labyrinth, drawing more creatures.
They crouched, hearts in their throats, as a beetle the size of a small car scuttled into view. Its antennae flicked, searching for prey. The men held their breath, flattening themselves against the cold metal behind them. A single step—one stray sound—and the beast would be upon them. For a tense moment, it seemed the creature would turn and find them. Then, with a clacking grunt, it continued forward, dropping downwards and making off into another corridor.
“Let’s go,” Pom breathed, voice low as a whisper. They slunk to the far side of the storage chamber, each footstep an exercise in caution. All they could do was hope this labyrinth led somewhere safer—before the swarm inevitably closed in from all sides.
As they disappeared into the next corridor, the sense of claustrophobia only deepened, walls narrowing, overhead beams slanting precariously. Somewhere behind them came a screech and a rattling crash, followed by the echo of something very large scraping its way through the twisted remains.
The metallic screech of claws against warped bulkheads sent a shiver down Pom’s spine. The sound was coming from the left corridor, and a moment later, the hulking form of a charger beetle came into view. Its massive carapace gleamed faintly, reflecting the dim light filtering through the wreckage. The creature’s bulk slammed into the floor as it charged toward them, antennae whipping, mandibles clacking in fury.
“Move!” Maximilian shouted, raising his grenade launcher and firing. The explosion rocked the corridor, but when the dust cleared, the charger was still advancing, its armor scorched but intact. Pell fired his sidearm in rapid succession, the heavy slugs cracking against the creature’s shell but barely slowing it.
“Keep going!” Maximilian barked, turning and grabbing Pom by the shoulder, shoving him forward.
The two of them bolted down the twisting corridor, feet pounding against the uneven floor. Behind them, Pell was backing away, still firing, when his foot caught on a loose panel. With a loud curse, he fell sideways, his powersuit clanging against the debris.
Pom skidded to a halt, turning back toward Pell. “We can’t leave him!” he shouted, panic rising.
“Pom, move!” Maximilian snapped, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward a slanted side corridor.
Pom resisted for a moment, looking back at Pell, who was struggling to get back to his feet, but his suit was captured under a twisted metal beam. The charger was already closing in, its massive frame shaking the floor with each step. With a grim expression, Maximilian fired his grenade launcher again—not at the creature, but at a nearby lock mechanism holding a half-open door in place. The blast shattered the lock, and the door groaned shut under gravity, cutting off the path behind them—and Pell’s chance to follow.
The last thing Pom saw before the door slid shut was Pell’s powersuit glinting in the flickering light. A few desperate gunshots rang out, followed by silence. Then the pounding began, as the charger threw its weight against the closed door, shaking the corridor.
“No…” Pom muttered, staring at the door. “We left him... You left him!”
“There was nothing we could have done,” Maximilian said coldly, his voice steady. “You’ll end up the same if you stand here and waste time. Move!”
Maximilian led the way up a narrow ladder embedded in the bulkhead, its rungs warped and uneven from centuries of decay. “This way,” he called down, his voice echoing faintly. “That thing’s too big to follow us here.”
Pom hesitated, casting a glance back at the door, which groaned under the relentless pounding of the charger. With a bitter curse, he gripped the ladder and began climbing. Each step was a struggle—his arms burned, his legs ached, and his lungs felt ready to burst. The events of the night were catching up to him, draining his strength with every motion.
As they climbed higher, the shaft widened, leading into a vast open space. Dim starlight shone through cracks in the exterior hull, leading them out of the near-total darkness. Pom’s mind flashed back to the Dolya’s central corridor, where he had made an arduous climb after waking from stasis, struggling to keep up with others who were stronger, faster, genetically superior to him. Once again, he found himself falling behind, the sound of Maximilian’s boots clanging steadily above him.
“Maximilian,” Pom grunted, his voice strained. “Slow down, damn it—I can’t keep up!”
“You don’t have to keep up,” Maximilian called back, already reaching the platform far above.
Pom’s frustration boiled over, and he bit back a retort, focusing instead on the next rung. As he climbed, a new sound reached his ears: the telltale scrape of claws against metal. Looking down, his blood ran cold. Dozens of insectoid creatures were swarming up the ladder below, their glinting eyes catching faint light, mandibles clicking hungrily.
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“Maximilian!” Pom shouted, panic overtaking him. “They’re coming!”
But Maximilian was nowhere to be seen. Pom cursed him, despair rising as his arms began to tremble, exhaustion sapping his strength.
Then, just as the swarm closed in, Maximilian appeared from a catwalk to the side of the room. He raised his grenade launcher, and fired into the mass of creatures below. The explosion severed the ladder with a deafening crack, sending the swarming beetles tumbling down into the depths. The force nearly knocked Pom loose, but Maximilian ran back to the platform, reaching down.
“Grab my hand!” Maximilian shouted.
Pom reached up, his breath ragged, and felt Maximilian’s iron grip close around his wrist. With a grunt, Maximilian hauled him onto the platform. Pom collapsed onto his back, panting, his chest heaving with exertion.
For a moment, neither man spoke. Then Pom turned his head to glare at Maximilian. “Why did you come back? You left Pell without a second thought. Why not me?”
Maximilian leaned against the bulkhead, his expression unreadable. “The situations weren’t the same.”
“How?” Pom demanded, anger and confusion mixing in his voice. “How is it different?”
Maximilian stared into the darkness for a moment before answering. “Because you weren’t already dead.”
===
Beyond the battered hull and the smoking lines of defenses, the main corridor of the wreckage served as the defenders’ last bastion before the shielded crew area. Reinforced with centuries-old metal plating and braced by makeshift barriers, it was the ultimate choke point.
Hundreds of beetles flooded in from the far entrance, forming a writhing sea of chitin and mandibles. Sustained turret fire from the last line of automated turrets ripped through the swarm in rapid fire bursts, a blaze of muzzle flashes lighting up the claustrophobic space. Fiery tracers chewed through the front lines, sending insectoid bodies flying backward to be trampled by those behind. The corridor took on an apocalyptic quality—flickers of orange from weapons fire, the billow of acid-tinged smoke, and a constant, deafening roar of gunfire.
Amid the chaos, Hu and Kucugur—their powersuits still intact, though scarred—stood at the fore, each hefting a heavy-caliber weapon and constantly resupplied by two of ARI's quadrupeds. Their combined fire rattled the confined corridor with every trigger pull. Beetles, spitters, and smaller creatures exploded in gouts of gore under the relentless pounding. A handful of chargers staggered into view, attempting to lunge at the defenders. But the corridor floor was already slick with the mangled remains of their kin; preventing them from picking up speed, making them easy prey for the powersuits’ well-aimed rockets and armor-piercing slugs.
For a time, the defenders held strong, forcing wave after wave to fall back or be obliterated. Sigrid, Mei, Casimir, and Otto to burn anything that managed to scale the corridor with flamethrowers and two of ARI’s armed drones. Mei positioned herself behind a mobile barricade, scanning for any sign of infiltration while directing bursts of fire into pockets of surviving beetles.
But unnoticed, shadows flicked in the far side corridor, a place they had only partially sealed with a welded hatch and debris. A few spitters and lithe insectoids crawled in almost silently, avoiding the main carnage.
Sigrid saw them first. “Right flank! They’re coming in through the side!” she cried, pivoting to aim. But the creatures were too quick. One spitter unleashed a jet of acid, splashing across the makeshift barricade and partly dissolving it. Otto, who was manning a portable flamethrower on that flank, felt something hot and liquid spatter against his arm. He tried to step back, but one of the insectoids sprang forward, hooking its scythe-like limb into his midsection in a vicious slash.
Otto gasped, a pained shout torn from him as blood blossomed across his clothing. His flamethrower clattered to the floor, the nozzle spurting a short bloom of fire. Sigrid yelled in horror. A beam of light from ARI's drone shot out and decapitated the attacker, but another insectoid lunged at Otto from the side.
Casimir reacted on instinct—he seized Otto by the harness and dragged him backward, grabbing the fallen flamethrower with his other hand. A squeeze of the trigger, and a roaring gout of flame engulfed the remaining insectoids, driving them back or incinerating them in place. Acrid smoke billowed from the burning husks.
“Otto!” Sigrid cried, rushing to Casimir’s side. They lowered him gently against a bulkhead. Otto’s face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. His gut wound bled freely, and acid burns sizzled along his forearm. The smell of charred flesh and dissolving fabric hung in the air.
Mei limped over, cursing under her breath—a slash had opened her leg, dribbling blood with each step. Gritting her teeth, she choked back a groan and assessed Otto’s state. She quickly sprayed the caustic compound to neutralize the frothing acid and pressed a bandage against his wound, but it was too large, too deep.
A renewed chittering rose at the far end of the corridor, prompting them to spin around. More beetles were pushing in. The turrets and drones were still firing, but the flanking attempt had fractured their formation.
“Everyone, fall back—into the shielded sector!” Mei commanded, her voice strained as she steadied Otto. He could barely stand, let alone fight.
Sigrid’s eyes flicked between the carnage and the corridor behind them. This was their last fallback point before the shielded crew area. They had no choice—they had to move, or risk being surrounded. “We’ve got to get Otto out of here!” she cried.
With a collective effort, they half-carried, half-dragged Otto down the metal floor. Every step felt like an eternity, the air thick with acid tang and burning flesh. Behind them, the turrets kept firing, but the swarm was relentless.
As the group hustled forward, the corridor walls themselves seemed to close in, thick with the weight of desperation. Each clang of a turret’s discharge sounded more and more distant, until they firing stopped altogether.
Mei shuddered as a tingling electric buzz ran along her spine. The corridor beyond the sealed threshold remained steeped in half-shadow, lit only by the quivering glow of distant fires. She could almost taste the crackling energy in the air, a sensation that tugged at her senses. Her ears caught a faint hiss, and she realized it was coming from the alien creatures—their insectoid chittering blending into a single, collective hum.
“What is it?” Sigrid whispered, half-supporting Otto against the partial shelter of the door. He groaned softly, struggling to stay conscious.
Mei’s eyes strayed deeper into the corridor. “There is... something out there.” She wasn’t certain how she knew—only that she felt a presence, something watching her with an intensity that pricked the back of her neck. A distant distortion shimmered, wavering like heat haze, except it flickered with the same static-like buzz she heard in her head. Even when Mei squeezed her eyelids shut, the shape remained imprinted against her vision, coexisting both in and out of sight.
She turned, voice shaking. “Do you see it?”
Sigrid’s face had gone pale, her gaze fixed on the same spot. “Yes,” she breathed. “I—I don’t even know what I’m looking at. But it is there.”
Mei keyed her comm. “ARI, there is something out there. can you see it?”
The helmet speaker crackled. “Sensor readings are contradictory. Some systems register an unknown visual anomaly, but others detect nothing. This appears to be a malfunction... or something beyond normal range.”
From a distant, battered section of the hull, a trio of alien beetles hissed in unison. More spitter-creatures crawled into the open, all focusing on Mei. She gripped her rifle, gut twisting in dread. The creatures’ clicking chitter rose to a crescendo, as though receiving a silent command from that intangible shape.
“ARI,” Mei said quietly, “do you have any drones left outside?”
“Affirmative,” the AI replied. “Dispatching one scout for closer analysis.”
A faint electrical whir echoed through the corridor. A moment later, a disorienting flash of light—at once blindingly bright and impossibly nonexistent—lanced across the air. The drone’s signal vanished in a crackle of static, leaving behind a stunned hush. Mei’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as she realized the swirling anomaly had just destroyed the scout drone.
In that instant, a sense of certainty hit Mei: the creatures wanted her. The command that anomaly must be giving them—whatever it was, it had turned their fury away from the ship and its metal. Now she was the target, and whatever was out there was homing the swarm in her direction.
Mei took a step back, scanning the corridor for an escape route. Then a plan crystallized: they needed to lure the swarm into a space large enough to contain them, then incinerate them en masse. “ARI,” she called, voice taut, “can you open the interior cargo hold? The big one near the main hull breach?”
“Yes,” ARI answered, “Cargo Hold Five is accessible. I can engage the overhead blast doors and reroute the interior corridor seals. My drones will stand by with the remaining incendiaries.”
“Good,” Mei said breathlessly. She switched to local comms, glancing at Sigrid’s terrified gaze. “You handle Otto. Get him to cover. I’ll bait them in.”
“No—” Sigrid started to protest, but Mei was already limping forward. “Damn it,” Sigrid cursed, then obeyed, hauling Otto away as quickly as she could.
The alien swarm hissed again, a wave of insectoid bodies flowing around the corner. Spitter creatures clacked their mandibles, watchers in the darkness bristling with malicious intent. Through the acrid smoke and twisted passageways, Mei dashed deeper inside, adrenaline burning through her wounded leg. Her presence drew the swarm onward. The corridor echoed with their pursuit, reverberating with each step of her boots and the scraping legs behind.
She reached a massive open chamber—formerly a cargo bay—its ceiling caved in places, beams twisted overhead. Mei shouted into her panic as the creatures surged in behind her. With a hiss of decompression, doors slammed down across multiple archways. Beetles poured into the room from every side, antennae quivering, eyes locked on Mei’s form.
Her heart hammered. She sprinted, crossing the cavernous space in a mad dash. The alien horde advanced with a tide of chitin, hissing in horrific unison. She leapt through a half-broken airlock on the far wall and slammed it shut behind her. Another corridor beyond led to the deeper ship interior, but she halted there, panting.
“ARI, do it!” Mei spat, pressing her back to the sealed hatch.
At once, the remnants of ARI’s drones—hovering at key vantage points—hurled the final stock of incendiaries into the cargo bay. With a deafening series of blasts, flames leapt into the darkness, igniting the swarm in a storm of fire and scattered chitin. Hundreds of screeching voices rose, then died as smoke billowed, swallowing the alien threat.
Mei tried to steady her breath. She could feel the floor trembling under the force of the explosions. Slowly, she opened the airlock and peered back into the inferno. A few creatures moved within those flames, only to be sliced apart by ARI's lasers.
With the deed done, she staggered away from the heat, wound burning as she retraced her steps. The corridor ahead stretched silent now, lit by the flicker of distant fires. That unearthly presence—the anomaly she’d glimpsed—was gone. She leaned heavily against a battered console, forcing one trembling breath after another.
Still half in shock, she limped through the final hatch into a safer corridor. Sigrid, hurrying to meet her, breathed a sigh of relief. “You made it!”
Mei cast a last, wary glance back. The mysterious distortion was nowhere to be seen. Whatever it was, it had vanished as swiftly as it appeared, leaving only smoldering remains of the swarm behind. Yet the lingering electric buzz in her bones told her it wasn’t truly over; something was watching from beyond.
For now, at least, she had survived.