It didn’t make sense. I had only just arrived and now my identity was plastered into a man’s mission report as a target, not to mention, shot at. I knew from the first mission statement that this would be a military playground for just about everyone. I couldn’t begin to comprehend just why I was a target. I was a scientist, nothing more. I was not an immediate life saver, let alone life changer. My data could take ages to bear fruit.

It made me wonder just how purposeful my work must be, if upon hours of setting foot on this new planet I was already a target for trigger happy men.

Or, it made me paranoid.

What if what had happened on Colony 999 was in relation to this? What if both times, whomever was against me had failed?

Long gone were the days of assassinating doctors or scientists of real value, or so it seemed. It would be one thing to target a nuclear scientist, or perhaps an intellectual whose idea of science was borderline criminal and unethical. Such scientists still existed, but I wasn’t one of them.

I was expecting someone like Agent Rok to be a main target in most mission reports. He was the real game changer, and his ego proved that. He was smart, calculated, brutal, and most of all, he didn’t hesitate. Those men were more dangerous than I ever could be. Damien especially. Despite not seeing him kill this man, I had heard the four shots go off, and I knew he hadn’t missed. He was putting a point across.

Now, he and his team were carefully placing the body on the side, keeping it away from the open but also not hidden. If anyone would come looking for him, they’d find him. The display would hopefully send a warning to others: don’t come for District Five.

“This bitch is going to get us killed,” I heard Owen mutter, and not on a communication channel.

“Excuse me?” I scowled, seeing him tense up at noticing I had overheard it. Maybe if he didn’t have a distinct, whiny, pathetic voice he wouldn’t stand out amongst the others as much.

“Owen, that’s enough,” Damien replied, crossing his arms. How he could stand so high and proud after killing someone, I didn’t know. If it was me, I’d be shaking and throwing up my insides for an hour. Maybe he felt the same way after his first kill, but clearly not anymore.

“No, I think we need to know some answers. We’ve been tasked with protecting her, I think we have a right to know exactly what she’s looking for here,” Owen protested, a few others nodding.

“It’s not our business to know,” Grimes sided with Damien.

“Everything I shared during my first briefing is the same as it is now. I am here for data, as much as I can get, no matter what the quality or quantity,” I defended myself, “Look, I’m just as surprised as you at this. I have no rational reason to be listed as a key player on this little battlefield of yours.”

Damien walked over, extending his hand out to glance at the tablet. I didn’t hesitate to give it to him, not wanting to even think further on it. I should be more focused on what I was truly here for, the data, and let the men with guns figure this out. I knew, though, that these men fought for a purpose. All of them kept their morale up with this false sense of duty.

If their duty was protecting a scientist who wasn’t willing to share her outrageous thesis…their motivation to protect me would surely falter.

“I’ll let Intel do some digging, see what District Three might know about you. This report is rather bare bones,” Damien hummed, soon glancing back at me. From the angle of his gray eyes, he was watching the blood still pour from the scratch made from his shitty driving. When he reached forward, I lurched away with a small step.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“You should wear a helmet,” he nodded, but looked at Garcia to at least get some gauze to clean me up.

“You should learn to drive better,” I retorted, seeing him smirk, “You think the mechanics are going to be happy when the front of that Sioc is busted?”

“I’m keeping them in business,” he shrugged, “besides, I’m sure they can fix up this bike too. Maybe on an off day, you can take it on a joyride around here.”

Tempting offer, but not possible.

“No such thing as an ‘off day’,” I replied, seeing him linger around as Garcia walked over with his first aid kit. The scratch stung, but he was quick to end the bleeding, along with applying a small amount of pain relieving cream. Completely unnecessary. Maybe Garcia didn’t know but I was accustomed to pain. Muscle scorching, skin stinging, lungs burning kind of pain.

A helmet wasn’t a dreadful idea, but it just never really worked on my end. It didn’t accommodate my mask well, always fogged up a tad, and I liked seeing things with my own eyes. The one I had back home for riding was engineered specifically for me. I figured asking the supply chain for a custom helmet was out of the question and budget.

I’d have to suffer, then, for Damien’s knack of causing vehicular accidents.

“Alright, well, let’s make our way back,” Damien ordered, entering the Sioc to slowly back it away from the rubble he caused. He seemed much more cautious in driving it now, especially since something was rattling constantly under the front hood. The mechanics will certainly not be happy with him.

Upon arriving back, Cole awaited us with a thermal blanket in hand, reflective gear attached to a battery that could specify the exact temperature he needed.

“She was right,” Cole gleamed my way. If only he could see the faintest smile under my mask for the gentle praise.

“Congratulations, it’s a steak dinner for the Doctor. Or should I say, smoothie? Not sure she can handle solid foods,” Owen sarcastically replied to me, probably rolling his eyes under that helmet of his.

Ignorant piece of shit.

“Thank you Cole, I was only doing my job,” I ignored him, which seemed to be the best solution for him. It only seemed to enrage him further that I wasn’t joining in with his petty comments.

Now, it was back to walking and studying. I suppose the attack had been a weirdly welcoming distraction. There was not one single word to describe Colony Negative. It wasn’t something I was entirely prepared for when thinking I was glancing at the point of human origin. The place looked like a wasteland, although that was maybe the point. Something had to make people leave, to go create the Districts and smaller colonies to follow.

My initial thought was certainly viewing this place as almost primitive, a very unbenign word that I used rarely in my research. It was a term best forgotten, given the idea of something primeval was only due to perspective, or rather lack thereof. Communities flourished with art, with items, the idea of personal property or things to own. There were no remnants of such here.

Buildings were empty as their only purpose from observation was that it was shelter. Beds were just slabs of that same material, hardly comfortable but it was for function. Perhaps at one time they had fabrics or cloth to dampen those backaches, but the powerful winds and storms removed that evidence.

The homes lacked any kind of kitchen or utility to cook, let alone sit around and enjoy a meal. From the various large pits in the center of these so-called streets, my hypothesis suggested they had communal burning areas. They cooked whatever they could get their hands on. From the lack of any biology or organic life around, no small animals, not even insects…it was hard to imagine what they could eat here to survive. I took minor samples of what I could find, and for now it was best to leave it like that.

This day was just for observation. In depth studies, analysis, and charting would commence once the area was truly secure. Something told me maybe it never would be if men would hide on rooftops or attempt to assassinate scientists. The promise to keep me safe was a false one. These men would try, but at what cost?

Damien seemed to stay nearby with me towards the back, never once saying anything. We hadn’t spoken much at all besides work since that interrogation. We both had struck a nerve with one another. It was clear to probably not discuss anything regarding Sabbath around him, which was quite fine with me. They put a bad taste in my mouth. I couldn’t fault him for being a product of their inventions. He had been conditioned by their propaganda since a child, and more than likely, had no choice but to survive.

Survival was something I couldn’t fault him for.

“Banana or no banana?” he finally asked me, out of the blue, as if this past hour he had the entire conversation in his head.

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, quite puzzled by his words. With his helmet back on, I couldn’t see that stupid smirk of his. But by the way his shoulders relaxed and neck tilted, he was definitely amused.

“For your smoothie,” he clarified, thinking he’d get a chuckle out of the men in front.

“Oh fuck you-” I rolled my eyes, waiting for the laughter to ensue. But there was nothing. When we both looked away from each other and forward, we realized why. In front of us, the entrance to the underground portion of whatever laid beneath this rubble, was just a giant, gaping hole. It was caved naturally, not a crater of uncontrolled explosives. It looked carefully crafted, engineered with precision.

Everyone peered over, and all we could see was darkness.

An unsettling sensation came over me, like staring down into an abyss of nothing. It felt like swimming in open water, unable to feel the sand beneath my feet, let alone see it. It was both equally frightening, but inspiring. To know what laid beneath dark waters, one had to be brave enough to plunge in first and dive to the depths.

Owen next to me lit a red flare, the sound breaking the nervous thoughts to glance at everyone else. Their silence was apparent, almost deafening. They had probably been talking and cracking jokes, despite me not being able to hear it on comms. Their body language and constant glancing at each other proved otherwise. He let the flare drop, all of our eyes seeing just how far deep this crevice might go.

At approximately twenty feet, it hit the ground, lighting up that darkness with a ruby glow. Various and vast tunnels were seen, an extensive network. What we had all just walked on today up to this point, was just a real scratch at the surface. No pun intended. Everyone else seemed to hum, knowing rappelling equipment would be needed to explore further. I was about to look away when a moving shadow across the edges of black dashed from one tunnel to the next.

Movement, something this place lacked. Movement equaled life, organic material. Trees, plants, animals, all moved either with the wind or their own muscles. Something was alive down there. Something down there thrived in the darkness these tunnels provided.

My initial feeling was fear. Not much could survive in darkness. Humans weren’t naturally accustomed to such black, they craved sunlight like it was water. Whatever I saw made my skin crawl underneath this tight suit. It had to have been my imagination. It was like that brief moment when falling asleep where the brain flashes scary, violent images in your mind to force yourself to wake up. It was just electrical impulses, a misfire of communication between our brain and nervous system. Merely, a brain trying to make sense of it by flashing images of fright to account for the jump.

That’s all it could be. But, perhaps I was so on edge with the violence earlier today that I couldn’t really shake it off. I was about to ask if anyone else had seen it, given that might help with my own sanity, but someone only added to my fright.

“Boo!” Owen grasped my arm, teasingly jerking my body as if he was going to send me right over the edge. The sensation was the same mimic of that falling in your sleep, the jump my body had been craving from my fear had turned into reality.

My adrenaline snapped, fear gnawing at my insides boiled with rational frustration. I blinked, and suddenly that medical knife of mine was now under his throat, the blade bracing against a thin shear of cloth separating his helmet from his armor. I hadn’t even noticed at the time the fear that held me let my fingers linger by that blade, and Owen’s stupidity.

The clicks of safety’s being turned off immediately awakened me to the reality of the situation. Pistols were all pointed at me at various angles at my clear violation of pressing a blade to a companion’s throat. Owen himself had drawn his pistol from his holster, pointing it right at my stomach.

The only gun not pointed at me, was Damien’s, pointed right at Owen, leveled at his head.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!” I spat, venom laced in my voice.

“Can’t take a joke, love?” he snickered, not even phased by the knife pressed to his throat. Perhaps he believed I wasn’t capable of slicing those vocal chords. He’d be right.

“Owen, lower your gun!” Damien shouted.

“Tell her to fucking drop the knife!” Owen retorted, before glancing back at me, “Are you afraid of the dark, Doctor? Need a nightlight to keep you safe?”

“Team, lower your fucking guns!” he barked, his voice superior to all the rest. Those surrounding Owen and I did so, without hesitation. Yet my eyes stared into the black of Owen’s helmet, only seeing a glowing reflection of emerald.

Owen still refused. I only felt the barrel of his pistol pressed firmly into my stomach, which only resulted in my blade applying more pressure to his neck.

“Owen, do not disobey me a third time today. Drop. The. Fucking. Gun!” Damien insisted, “I will not hesitate to blow the stupidity out from your brain.”

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“I’d like to see you try, Rok,” he hummed, before finally holstering that pistol. In all honesty, after what I saw from Supervisory Agent Rok today, I wouldn’t test him. The man was an accurate sharpshooter, and I could only guess his skills at close-range marksmanship were even greater. I had faith Damien would kill him quicker than Owen could pull his own trigger.

I slowly took a step back, lowering my arm before tucking my blade away. My right arm trembled as I strapped it back along my thigh. My erratic, fearful breathing was obvious with my mask, something I was truly unable to mute against my will. They all knew I was afraid.

They all should be afraid.

What lurked below craved the chaos we had just created. It cared not for companionship, camaraderie, brotherhood, or false sense of family. It wanted violence. It got high off the stench of our fear. Fear, violence, and death were siren songs for the creatures that laid below. And it was not beautiful, nor pleasant sounding in the slightest.

A high pitched scream like a banshee pulled us away from our angst. A dark object flew from the crevice, using the edge to leap higher before landing in between all of us, between Owen and I specifically. The entity was the first organic, biological thing I had seen on Colony Negative. It was also the most foreign, horrifying, scientifically defying organism my eyes had ever laid on.

Its body structure was a resemblance to humans, yet it stood on four like an animal. Dark brown, rotten-like skin looked nothing more than just fabrics of its own decaying muscles. It was lanky, allowing for rapid movement, not sluggish in the slightest.

Various screams of the unknown were sent through my comms. Not that of the soldiers around me, but the scientists who witnessed the entire thing.

What the fuck! What the fuck! What is that?! Jack, get out of there!

Shouts encouraged my flight or fight response. Neither, however, responded. Freeze was the only notion my body could come up with, starting this unknown alien in the eyes.

Its iris was glossy, almost mimicking that of glaucoma or other partial blindness in the eyes. That wasn’t the disturbing part, though. The head was upside down from the rest of the body, neck not contorted in the slightest. It looked too human. There was always speculative talk of aliens, given a vast and partially unknown universe. Aliens were pictured or imagined as looking more human-like, as if to remove the terrifying prospect of not being alone in the universe.

This…this was much more terrifying to mimic a human.

Nothing is of more danger to us than ourselves.

Jaws opened, and the noise that came out was deep and garbled, unlike its banshee scream. The language was unknown, but it was clearly sophisticated despite being unintelligible. It wasn’t gibberish from a young child putting words together. The words were said with meaning, almost like a warning. It held a tone of deep agony, of hatred. Hatred towards us.

The first undisciplined shot was fired, Cole pulling the trigger of his pistol as the laser went straight through the alien’s neck. I watched with horror as the gap between its organic material slowly regenerated, even creating a lightly colored skin as a scar. The fear in that alone created more chaos and every single soldier there began to lay fire upon the alien. It screamed, but not that of pain. There was a haughty laughter accompanying it.

By the time I blinked again, I was being dragged behind the nearest cover of broken walls, hearing shots with panicked screams from soldiers following it.

It’s not fucking dying! Enhance the laser strength! What the fuck is this thing!?

“Shoot it with everything you’ve got!” Damien ordered, snapping me away from my dissociation. He was the one that forcibly dragged me into cover. I could feel the soreness in my bicep from his hand alone having that death grip. I hunched over, sitting down in the dirt to take cover. My hand absently and tightly gripped the strap of his thigh holster, begging him to end this misery.

Its screams echoed in my ears, filling my lungs with dread at what this mission would truly come to be.

The creature moved rapidly, too quickly for even accurate sharpshooters to pinpoint its next move. It would bounce from the nearest wall in a completely different direction. It was measuring its prey, exhausting them of their resources before picking its prime target: the weakest, most vulnerable target. Unfortunately, I glanced over from behind the wall, cheek bracing against Damien’s calf to see Cole still in the open.

His gun had overheated from the usage, burning his hand and causing the pistol to fall from his hands. Only the strong survived here. That strength was not derived from muscles or experience. It required perfection, minimal mistakes…minimal fear. Cole had an over abundance of mistakes and fear. Jaws latched to Cole’s neck. The angle of the creature’s head made it easier for the bite from its current velocity to latch. It had adapted that way, just like its body had adapted with the lasers to its skin.

Cole unleashed a scream of pain, “Get it off! Get it off!” His scream became gurgled by his own blood, words now just as garbled as the aliens. Everyone else hid from behind their cover, whether waiting for their weapons to cool, or just cover their ears like I did to mute the sounds of crunching bones and spurting blood. All, except one. Damien left my side, filling me with this odd void.

“Damien!” I shouted, finding his bravery idiotic yet inspiring. Damien immediately drew the laser blade from his metal sheath, the glow of red slicing into the creature’s neck.

Damien decapitated it before slamming his boot on top of its thin torso, stabbing relentlessly with a fury I had never seen before. It was Damien’s version of fear. Fear made him unstoppable. It forced him to kill, not out of the same instinct this alien did, but out of a hatred for those that ordered such violence from him. Fear was his master. Fear was his drive into the unknown, into the borderline suicidal objective.

I could see why Sabbath took a liking to him.

Blood poured from the alien thicker than that of human, a black goo that spilled all over Damien’s blade and armor. The creature’s squeals at being defeated soon diminished, its clenched muscles growing frigid almost like turning into ice before it all stopped. Instead of falling limp, it fell into an eternal catatonic death.

With the fighting over, all that was heard over the silence was Cole’s poor, silent whimpers. The sound alone forced me to my feet, my fear leaving me as I ran towards him. My gloved hands immediately covered his gaping wound, ignoring the wetness pooling between my fingers. My mask luckily covered the iron smell of his blood, but nothing could blind my eyes from the blood still gushing from his wound, the sight of cut muscle and bones. Garcia was soon quick to come at my side, pulling out his kit with trembling hands, rare for a field surgeon who constantly needed steady hands.

Garcia pulled out a cauterizer, Cole’s eyes widening at the concept of feeling a burn. He struggled under my grip, which only frustrated me as the blood continued to pour out. He looked away, instead looking at his commanding officer who now kneeled over him.

“Hey Cole, it’s going to be alright,” his supervisor spoke. His voice was soft, something so unexpected for me to hear from a man who just violently killed this…demon.

“It-it hurts,” Cole cried.

“Shh, it’s okay. Garcia is going to patch you up real nice, you’ll just feel a little sting,” Damien assured him. He was gentle with his men, ironic given a mere minute ago he was pointing his own pistol at one of them. There was a soft side to him. One that faded just as quickly as it came to him. Cole collapsed in a relaxed state, his hand holding Damien’s.

I could no longer feel the throbbing of his damaged veins against my hands. His pulse was gone. Garcia froze from his place, the cauterizer burning at the edges as he stared down at the cadaver. I swore I could hear the faint dull, never ending beep of Cole’s pulse through Garcia’s helmet. His vitals were clear, indicating he was gone.

Immediately I felt a wave of nausea. I ran back to the wall I just hid behind, my blood covered slimy hands struggling with removing my mask before I threw up my entire breakfast. Luckily it had only been black coffee. My muscles ached at the action alone, retching quite a strain on my neck and jaw. My mind couldn’t comprehend what I had just witnessed, and neither could my body as it entered a state of shock.

Wind howled, carrying Cole’s echoed whimpers and screams as a storm began to approach from the North. The skies darkened from a bright gray to the beginning of a dark fog. My own comms were quiet, which was good. I didn’t know if I had the heart to answer any more questions.

I didn’t know the answer to any of them.

I put my mask back on once I chugged half my canteen of water to dissolve the acid in my mouth and throat. My breathing slowed back to its normal state, if anything could go back to normal. From this point, I knew nothing about Colony Negative could ever be normal. We believed all life had escaped his planet to go explore and find others. I wanted to study everything they left behind, everything but this alien.

Returning back to the area, all of Acid Squad surrounded Cole in a moment of remembrance and silence. Damien was the first turn, his observation now laying on the creature he slew with an act of bravery nobody else had managed to have. I swallowed my own cowardice, walking back over to glance down at it too. Somebody had to study it, observe it, and any footage to share with my team could help.

Damien only saw this alien as an enemy, rightfully so. A more scientific mind, however, could figure out what it was. Or rather, who it was, given its human-like features. I doubted any of them had ever heard of anything like this, let alone witness it first hand.

“What is it?” Damien asked, this time using our private comm.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“What did it say?” He followed with another question.

“I don’t know,” I repeated again, “my entire team will take a look at it, linguistics especially. I’m no expert in that field but…I don’t think it’s a dialect we know about. It’s not Latin based in any way.”

My answer didn’t seem to coax or satisfy him. The one thing I liked about science was that there usually were answers to anyone’s questions. The things people feared, the anxiety of their nightmares, the underlying medical problem, or just fear of how life was…it could be answered with experimentation or research. This was so unknown, I feared I wouldn’t get an answer in my lifetime.

It felt like something I would die not knowing, plague me with ‘what ifs’ or reminisce on my failures, forever going to be unknown.

Damien moved away, and I felt a sense of loneliness I thought I had come to terms with.

“Damien, I…thank you, for pulling me out of there,” I admitted, having to thank him for that, “Maybe if I reacted quicker or didn’t freeze up he’d still be-”

“Don’t, Jack. Don’t go there. There are no if’s, only absolutes,” he corrected me, a hint of that softness peeking through his tone, “he is gone. Now, all we can do is take him back, give him a proper funeral and compensation to his family.”

That alone made me stop in my steps, turning to see Garcia and the other’s cocooning Cole’s corpse with a white body bag. No. Something told me this wasn’t a good idea. I trusted my gut often, knowing it had never once failed me. Sometimes it could be a bit overdramatic, but it never once failed at keeping me at the top of my game. Taking his body back with us didn’t feel right.

“I don’t think we should take him back,” I voiced aloud, to everyone this time, “I think maybe we should send a team out here, conduct the autopsy here after this storm clears and-”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Damien interrupted me, that soft tone gone as if it had never existed, “We are taking him back.”

The thin line between our chaos and peace was marginal, a Maginot Line that was most vulnerable when we looked at each other.

“Something’s not right about this place. I think-”

“I don’t care what you think, Doctor! I call the shots here. This was my agent, my responsibility! He’s coming back with us. I never leave an agent behind, ever!” His shouts were laced with experience, not experience of barking orders, experience of losing those under his command. He hated losing a life as much as he enjoyed taking one.

With me, he had been quick to forgive, knowing I had little experience in battle. He disregarded my guilt, but was slow to swallow his own. I could sense it in his voice, as his supervisor, he felt the one to blame.

“Yeah, and if your sensitive cunt didn’t get so worked up about my little prank-” Owen retorted before immediate interruption, and not by words. Damien’s fist slammed into the side of his helmet, enough force to send his skull smashing with reverberation. Owen stumbled over, nearly tripping over his own feet as he regained his composure.

I admit, I took enjoyment in his injury, despite this catastrophe. I said nothing further about Damien’s words, though. I don’t think he called the shots here, not all of them. He may fire the most shots, physically, but I thought I should still have a say. It was me against seven other agents in this Squad, though. I had no energy to fight but something told me I should have. I should have fought for his body to remain here just as bravely as Damien fought that monster.

The entire ride back in the Sioc was utter silence between us all. The rattling of that stupid piece under the hood from the accident was the only echo. At certain points, the engine would stall, instilling fear in everyone inside this piece of junk we’d be stranded here. Owen luckily would reboot the engine, and finally we were back at Base Camp after what felt like an eternity cramped in that vehicle.

I knew people had seen what we all saw. They didn’t see it with their eyes, hear it with their ears, feel the fear pierce them like ice freezing our veins. But they had to follow protocol. Each and every one of us as we disembarked were immediately sent for decontamination and medical testing. I had to make sure the medical team compared everything the story our blood shared now to that of the blood drawn earlier this week. Any slight difference could mean anything.

With everything being so unknown, it would be the faintest details overlooked that could undo frivolous study.

There was no report debrief as there would have been for any end of the day. CSO Ruenova relieved us and told everyone to return to their rooms to compose themselves. The briefing would be handled tomorrow with fresh minds, and review of all the evidence at hand. Cole’s body was taken to the morgue, with my team half eager and half terrified to review it tomorrow for an autopsy. The creature’s body had remained where we had left it, with hope that a team could study it in the upcoming week.

Questions upon questions were asked with no real answers, even that of those asking if I was alright. I wasn’t alright. How could anyone be? Such an event had unraveled everyone, even had the most unemotional of men on edge. The initial shock could take weeks to recover from, but I knew we didn’t have that much time.

I sat against the tile walls of the shower, feeling the cold water pelt my skin like rain. A depressing, gut wrenching rain. Tears welled but I could not cry. I would not let my body cry knowing it would only embolden the pain in my neck and lips. I could not fathom the idea of stepping foot out there, imprinting myself into the moondust. The idea of entering that darkness consumed me with fear.

Something told me I should have let that District Three agent kill me. Something also told me that I was targeted for a reason. Scientists couldn’t stop at the frontline of discovery. If they had all stopped at the first sign of fear, if they didn’t dare to plunge into the unknown…then neither could I. I had to get answers.

What people feared most was the unknown. The threat of a doomsday was more terrifying when a timer wasn’t attached to it, when the prospective date of annihilation was unplanned. Just like on Damien’s first deployment, coming face to face with a Canine-A, he feared it. When it no longer became unknown, the fear diminished. The only way to not be afraid was to keep going, to study and learn with utmost carefulness.

I had to figure out what happened here, no matter the cost. No matter the fear. Damien Rok had proved these aliens were killable, that we could remove their existence. It was my job to figure out why they existed in the first place. This was the moment our distasteful partnership really had to begin.