‘Keep fighting strong.’
The words echoed the hateful rhetoric of the xenophobic elitists who oppose the peace treaty with the Intergalactic Planetary Union. Knowing Claire well, Andy dismissed the coincidence without a second thought. He longed for Claire to prioritize her family more than anything else. In these turbulent times, the warmth of his family meant more to him than any scientific accomplishment. They were losing. Two-thirds of the population either died or were one of the rare unlucky ones to convert. The hologram dissolved into thin air, leaving Andy to confront the reality of his surroundings. Khalil broke the sound of silence, whose black eyes bore into Andy, unblinking.
“You have Crek eyes.”
It always unnerved Andy the way their embedded translators worked. The unfamiliar sounds of the original language washed over them, but their brains instinctively translated them into their own tongue, creating a bizarre overlay.
Attempting to alleviate the tension, Andy’s friend Sam wrapped his arm around his shoulder and said, “Dude, they ain’t Crek eyes. We call ‘em crack eyes. I’m Sampson Pottimus, by the way. You can call me Sam.” The touch of Sam’s arm, the warmth radiating from his body, provided a sense of comfort and familiarity. Spot, the only one who knew about Andy’s insecurities about his eyes and the constant darkness that seemed to cling to him.
The sound of the Jump-horn pierced through the air, it’s blaring tone signaling the imminent. His friendly support was fleeting, replaced by a tense grip on the straps, his eyes shutting tight as he braced himself. Andy, like Spot, closed his eyes, preparing himself for the disorienting sensation that was about to follow. The moment the Jump commenced, his stomach churned, and he felt as if his head was spinning on a teacup ride at an unprecedented speed. Amidst the chaos, the sound of retching and the acrid smell of vomit mingled with the ringing in his ears, creating a disconcerting symphony.
“Why cracked?” Andy opened his eyes and was immediately met with the sight of Khalil’s piercing gaze directed at Spot.
“It’s simple. They look like cracked glass where the neon green bleeds through.”
Confusion shrouded Khalil’s tan brows. “How?”
Elliot chimed in. “Weren’t you already briefed on our team? Worthington was bitten.” The team leaned in, their curiosity piqued by the unusual topic. It was a conversation rarely discussed, adding a layer of intrigue to the atmosphere.
“Twice. Sam and I were there the second time.” Amelia-Rose Green, preferring her last name Green, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her first name was as much a source of irritation to her as the wild tangle of hair. “It was my first mission ever paired with an IST. He saved both of our asses that day. And it was the first time I ever witnessed a Crek fever. I hope to never see it again.”
“It was my fault. The Crek. It was a friend of mine, and I… I just froze.” Spot’s confession hung in the air, his words heavy with guilt.
Khan’s stern interruption stopped Spot. “It was no one’s fault. This shit happens. We have lost many good men and women because either they jump in to save a team member or fear causes them to hesitate. We are bloody lucky Worthington is just one of the handful who could fight off the poison and live.” The sound of his words was like a balm, soothing the guilt that had settled among the team.
Andy, feeling the weight of responsibility, steered the conversation back to the mission. The room buzzed with a renewed sense of purpose. Spread across the cabin in blue laser holograms, the maps and blueprints created a sense of organized chaos. With a determined glint in their eyes, the team strategized their next move. They contemplated the various entry points, envisioning the labyrinth of corridors they would navigate. The air was thick with the anticipation of the unknown and tinged with a bit of excitement. Though Andy couldn’t ignore the lingering fear that hung in the cabin. The absence of communication since the last distress signal and two untrained members added a layer of uncertainty.
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The team tirelessly cycled through suggestions, their voices blending together in a chorus of heated debates. Arguments erupted sporadically, the Powells and the McDonalds exchanging sharp words, seeming to be in constant disagreement. Despite their size difference, River and his sister Alexia Mcdonald were true fraternal twins, fiercely protective of each other, their bond strong and unwavering.
Owen, either through fear or sensing the mounting tension, wisely withheld further suggestions, recognizing the unanimous rejection of his ideas. Every word that escaped Owen’s lips was quickly drowned out by a chorus of resounding “Nos.” Andy, reminiscing about his own beginnings, found familiarity in Owen’s eagerness. He silently vowed to support Owen if he survived, just as Tom had helped him.
Amidst the discussions, the team’s primary concern loomed large - the Enclave. The Enclave, a vast outdoor arena resembling a dense forest, stretched for miles at the heart of every civilian vessel. The scientists sought refuge in a secure room beneath the recreational pavilion, a mere 200 yards away from the planned entrance.
Andy’s confidence in his team was unwavering. As roles were assigned, the team members engaged in hushed conversations, their voices creating a gentle buzz. Owen, a natural storyteller, enraptured his teammates with tales of “Worthington’s exploits,” stories of valor and triumph that had likely been passed down within the upper schools. Andy found no comfort in hearing of himself, but he enjoyed the vivid narratives of Uvut’s life and culture, with their embellishments and vibrant details. Uvut’s life and personality assured Andy that he would fit in seamlessly with his new comrades.
As they tracked their progress, Andy relayed the countdown to the team. With thirty minutes remaining, everyone meticulously checked their equipment. The metallic clinks of locking ammo canisters reverberated, backup weapons securely fastened to their chosen vests. The faint hum of laser blades filled the room as they were charged and tested for functionality. To Haiden’s relief, Andy instructed Owen to keep his laser rifle strapped to avoid any accidental discharges. Instead, Owen wielded a laser falchion, a sword modeled after Andy’s preferred weapon. Clarke volunteered to be Owen’s partner, offering to have his back or stay by his side if they were separated.
Andy took deliberate, slow breaths, trying to steady his nerves. The tension coiled within him, his body a bundle of nerves. He knew he had to remain steadfast, a pillar of strength for his team. Time seemed to stretch as they prepared to depart. Once they left the jump, the team exploded in movement. With limited time to form their formation, the jet latched onto the haul and released a bonding sealant, a sticky substance that would ensure a secure connection between the two ships. The sound of the sealant being deployed mingled with the faint vibrations under their feet.
Khan sat in a dimly lit command station, surrounded by the soft glow of ten screens before him. The micro cameras embedded in the head visors filled the air, transmitted both visual and audio information to Khan. With each screen, he could see the team’s movements, hear their whispers, and immerse himself in their world.
Green, the grenadier - a molecular and chemical bonding specialist, positioned herself in the mechanical cabin. Dislodging the hatch in the back of the cabin, the scent of metal and ozone hung in the air as she deftly operated the welding appendages. The sharp sparks flew, illuminating her focused face as she skillfully carved an opening into the ship’s side. The sound of metal meeting metal reverberated through the cabin, echoing with each precise cut. Andy lowered his head visor, protecting his eyes with the cool glass. He could feel the weight of the high-tech device on his head, a reminder of the danger ahead.
His team, standing beside him, mirrored his actions. The anticipation was palpable as they awaited Andy’s signal. In silence, he raised his fist, a gesture that spoke volumes. River and Alexia positioned themselves on either side of the cutout, their fingers twitching near the triggers of their laser guns. The faint scent of metal hung in the air, intermingled with the adrenaline coursing through their veins.
Haiden, muscles taut and veins bulging, attached the clamps to the metal cut-out. The metallic clinks and clanks filled the silence, punctuating the tension in the room. Elliot and Thomas swiftly deployed the silencer balloons. The balloons expanded, forming a cushioned barrier that muffled the sound of the falling metal panel.
As Andy prepared to lead his team into action, he tried to push away the memories of Red. The images danced in his mind, but he forced himself to focus on the present. With a determined nod, he wordlessly communicated to his team that it was show time.
With a grunt, Haiden’s muscles strained against the resistance, his face contorted with effort. The scent of sweat mingled with the metallic tang in the air as he pulled with all his might. The muscles in his neck bulged, veins pulsating under the strain, as the metal cut-out finally gave way, opening a pathway for the team.