The Massacre on Mars

            When the guard threw him in the paddy wagon, he hit the metal floor hard enough that he heard as much as felt something crack. His arm from the shoulder down went numb. He cried out loud enough that he didn’t hear the guard’s shouted command over the pounding pain. The guard, frustrated, stepped into the paddy wagon, and roughly hauled him back up to his feet by his arms, which were shackled in front of him.

“I said, take a seat, meat.” The guard said gruffly.

The bones, collarbone, he realized, ground together and the pain nearly made him vomit. The guard shoved him onto the seat. Locking down his feet and latching a bar to keep him there.

            “Lay off him, bootlicker.” A woman’s voice said.

            A backhand from the guard snapped her face around hard enough to bounce against the compartment’s wall. Blood leaked from her lips. Staining her teeth. She sucked the blood from them and smiled. “Make you feel good hit a lady in cuffs? Bet that’s how you like ‘em.”

            The guard turned. He had to stoop inside the wagon, he towered over the woman he’d just hit. “I do like ‘em that way.” He grabbed her by the face. Thick sausage like fingers indenting skin on her sharp angular jawbone. He manipulated her face, turning it from side to side, and looked her over. Then spat on the floor. “Y’look a half-starved mouse. All lines and no shape to you. Lucky, I like ‘em looking like they’re at least half-alive.”

She jerked her head and bit him as quick as a cat. Teeth sinking into the meat of his palm. His punch came clean across her high cheekbone, her whole body moving then jerking against her shackles. His sharp intake of breath, the sound of his fists hitting against her. His curses brought the other guard around.

            “Let’s go. We’re on a schedule.” He said from the back of the open door.

            The bitten guard looked down at his hand. It dripped blood from his palm down his pinky to the floor. The woman smiled. Teeth stained red and feral, face already swelling around her eye. He turned and in a stooped waddle, shuffled out of the paddy wagon, slamming the door.

            “Thanks for that. That fuck just broke my collarbone.” The man said, trying to shift his weight in a way that wasn’t causing his arm to tug on it, a jagged edge of pain kept pulsing through him. The woman regarded him. He suddenly regretted speaking. She still wore a strange look on her face. He couldn’t find a way to describe it other than it reminded him of the times his cat would hunt and find a mouse, eyes wide and excited, a mouthful of blood.

            “Tell me what you are here for.” She said simply.

            “What’s it to you?” He said, defensively.

            She didn’t respond. Instead immediately losing interest in him. Looking to the door, then at her feet. Shackled as they were to the floor, she moved around a bit. Shifting, her thin body visible underneath the thick prison uniform fabric she was draped in, sharp bones poking through. The silence stretched out between them as the paddy wagon lifted off the ground, magnetic lift near soundless as it accelerated. They both lifted in their seats briefly, chains tightening as the car dipped into the tunnel. The surface was impassable between the city and the gate to mars. Tunnels were easy enough to make and maintain. And no one could easily raid a tunnel as the walls were thick reinforced quickrete. It was at the very least not a long trip.

            He sighed. “Treason. Said the wrong thing about some people. Unfortunately, I’m a Major in the army.” After a sharp breath. “Well. Was. Now, I’m not. Obviously…” he said trailing off.

            “If you lie to me, I’ll know.” Her voice was deep. Especially for someone so petite. “And I’ll make you pay.” She added.   

            He snorted before he could think better of it. Her red stained teeth pulled back in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Showing teeth more than a smile he thought suddenly.

            “Ok. Ok.” He blew out a breath and then winced as it shifted the bones and shot a fresh wave of pain. “It was treason. But I’m not a Major nor was I ever. Just a smuggler. I smuggled something I shouldn’t have. I still don’t know what it was. Just that it was small and for one of the outlanders. Got busted. And it brought more heat down on my head than I thought was possible. No trial. No police. Just Councilors and Judicates. Lots of small rooms and a shitload of truthum. They realized I didn’t know shit and now I’m here. Getting disappeared.”

            “Good.” She said. Then she looked at him. The look of someone starving seeing food. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll save your life but you have to do exactly as I tell you.”

            “Ok. Sure.”

            “Shut up and don’t talk or say anything to me or anyone until we get to mars.”

            “I can…..”

            “Shhhhh”

            He rolled his eyes, in silence.

The Mars Gate

            The paddy wagon arrived at the Gate Entry Control Point. It was a massive block of stonework, imposingly built, all vaulted heights and squared edges/ Looking more soviet era construction than modern. Handing them off to the transfer staff. One of them remarked about them being a little beat up. The guards just shrugged. “The shitbirds are breathing and walking ain’t they.” And then they left. The prisoners were led, shuffling chain-shortened steps, into the building. Sat in a plain waiting room and then two gurneys were wheeled out. One of the staff members came out with a clipboard. His crisp green uniform and haircut pegged him as military. His eyes raked over the prisoners in a perfunctory manner. And he began reading from the clipboard.

            “I’ve gone over both of your medical files. Between the prison and here have you experienced anything that would affect the anesthesia? Have you taken any drugs or been given any stimulants?” He asked.

            Two no’s followed the question.

            “It’s essential that you follow all orders given to you by gate staff. The last person to go through the gate conscious scratched their eyes out and peeled their face off with their bare hands.”

            “Yeah. We know how the gate works, bootlicker.” The woman said. Though there was a notable lack of malice in her inflection.

            “Good.” The uniformed man said. Not reacting to the comment in anyway. “Let’s get you all prepped and on your way.” He spoke into a mic on his lapel and two more staff came out.

            They helped the prisoners into the gurneys which had a surprisingly soft mattress, though the cotton sheets were cheap and stiff from what must have been thousands of washes. They laid back, the attendants adjusting the shackles to the gurney, then handed a breathing mask that was attached to a tank underneath the bed.

            “Look. I know this is a rough break for you guys.” The uniformed man said empathetically. Though his dull, blank eyes told a different story. “But my job is to get you all safely through the gate. Normally we’d wait until the entrance to put you to sleep. But since you’re prisoners we’re just putting you out here before we get to the main hall. Then we’ll wheel you through. You’ll wake up on mars and feel like you slept a few more hours than you should’ve. Lethargic like. That’s just the anesthesia working its way through you. It’s harmless, breakdown in your body within a couple of hours. Travel is instant. Well, as near as instant as we can tell. When we put the mask on, make for damn sure it’s sealed on your face and that you’re breathing through it. If there’s anything at all wrong with it, we’ll figure it out here. Ok?” 

            Two ok’s followed. The staff put the masks on the prisoners face. Having them blow in and out to check the seal.

            “Turning the anesthesia on now. If you’re gonna fuck anything up, now’s the time to do it and tell us. Or if you’re gonna try to escape, do it before you go through the gate. You don’t have to trust me to know it’s a bad idea to try to go through awake. Nod if you understand.”

            They both nodded.

            “Ok then. Take deep breaths. Hold up both hands and all your fingers. Count down from 10 seconds with your fingers.”

            Two sets of hands raised with fingers spread and they started counting down, breathing in and out. Two hands dropped to their wheeled beds before they even reached 7. The uniformed man did a few tests. Picking up their hands and dropping them, noting the way it flopped without reflex. He made a few marks on his clipboard and then told the staff to take them into the gateroom.

            The Main Hall was a public place. Looking closer to a hospital lobby than a subway station. All the passengers embarked and disembarked in wheeled stretchers. The gate itself was behind a simple white curtain. The scientists and psychologists claimed no one had ever gone insane just from looking at it. The inky void suspended between six black stones held by thick metal scaffolding. It sat there exactly the way it shouldn’t. Exactly the way that looking at it would make you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff looking out over a great height, one slip and you’d fall in. No matter how far or close you were. The staff, when they were green, fresh and curious, would inevitably peak behind that simple white curtain. The stories of the experience would always be told in hushed tones. A drink to follow the telling. More than a few drinks to follow the curious look. Trying to shake the feeling.

            The rest of the travelers sat waiting for a gurney. The void sitting behind the white curtain. The staff helping them one-by-one onto the gurneys. Once everyone was in a gurney, they lined them up on a track that would take them through the gate without the need for anyone to look into the voidgate to mars.

            The staff checked the time. Sent a qmessage that would instantly reach all the way to mars and pressed a button. The travelers and the prisoners conveyer-belt fed into the inky void. A line in, and just as instantly as they disappeared, beds from mars came in with gurneys of drug-induced sleeping travelers headed back to Earth.

Mars

            Her eyes shot open. The effect of the anesthesia instantly negated by some chemical that was waved under the noses of the sleeping travelers. Her hands moved, the shackles jerking taut, reminding her that she was still a prisoner. She looked and saw the man coming awake as well. She brought her hands up to her face and a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. He wasn’t bad looking as far as these things went, she thought to herself. Guess there’s still some luck left in the universe. The military staff of mars came and wheeled them into a nondescript room away from the normal travelers who were beginning to walk around and some gawking at the shackled prisoners.

            The door shut, sealing audibly. The uniformed man, looked them both over. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

The not so bad looking but apparently not a so bright man started to answer, but the uniformed man held up his hand. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a shit. You’re breathing and that’s all that matters. I am three things right now. One, Colonel Graham, two in charge here. And third, not happy your kind is breathing my precious air. So we’re going to make this quick. No one here is punishing you. This is just what it is now. You’ve been sentenced, I’m carrying it out. So let’s keep any begging, bickering or pleading with me or my staff to a minimum of zero. If fact, the less you say the better. Waste less of my air this way. Now. Who’ve we got here?”

            The question hung in the air. And when neither spoke, Colonel Graham nodded with a slight smile. “So, you’ve got that bit down quicker than most.” He picked up two files from the table in the middle of the room. “I am going to need you to confirm this, you can say, ‘yes’ or nod your head. Are you one Scott Summers, born in New London, Texas Expanded Territory?”

            Scott, apparently, nodded.

            “And that leaves Mara Blaze, of Galtville, West Indiana.”

            Mara narrowed her eyes. “Chicago, Illinois. Herr Oberst.”

            Colonel Graham snorted. “Well, at least we’ve established you’re in the right place. Now, let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to see a couple of doctors. Then you’re going straight to Leavenworth Mars Penitentiary Outpost. That’s the long and short of it.” He said with a crisp clip. Tucking the folders beneath his arms, turning and began to walk out of the room.

            “Jus’ gonna to kill us like that. Don’t have a long speech prepped or anything?” Mara said, the vitriol dripping from her tone.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

            Colonel Graham performed a quick and practiced about-face turning sharply on the heel of a polished boot. A genuine smile spread across his face. “Well now. Looks like we have an unrepentant rule breaker. I could’ve ignored your earlier quip. And did! But this… more treasonous tripe.” He snapped his fingers. “But, what can I say, I do love a good rulebreaker. Gives me a chance to kill a chicken to teach the monkeys to stay in line. We do have some contractors and civilians here and they do start getting ideas if I don’t set an example here and there.”

            The door opened, another soldier came in carrying a briefcase sized box in both hands. He set it on the table, saluted the Colonel, turned and walked out of the room. The Colonel opened the box. Inside was a mask with three thick, industrial straps.

            “This mask, well, muzzle really, I mean, let’s be honest, all masks are muzzles. Anyhow, I digress. This is one of my favorite things. See, we used to waterboard terrorists and treasonous folk such as yourself as I’m sure you well know. While this was an excellent way to get information and cooperation, it’s not perfect. Occasionally people drown. Or their weak little traitor hearts’d give out under perhaps a too heavy hand. Given a cowards death, a gasp and then gone. The suffering they were fated to perform in penance left unpaid. See, that’s just not a perfect tool. And that there brings us to this little device. It was invented here on mars. Earth is too soft to allow it there. But they don’t care if I use it here because, after all, it’s not just a teaching tool. The technical name for this beauty is ‘breath limiter’. We give them to miners. If they need to conserve oxygen for any emergency reason, they can put it on. I’ve worn it before, I am proud to say I only lasted about 30 seconds. It’s, to put lightly, miserable. It will make you feel like you’re drowning, but without any water or risk of death. It limits your oxygen to just enough to keep you conscious. The best part is watching the hope die in the eyes once it’s on.”

            Mara’s eyes tracked the device as the Colonel brought it over. She fought him, but he just grabbed her by neck, slammed the mask over her mouth and nose, then yanked the straps tight around the back of her head. Her breaths became visibly hitched.  

            “Do enjoy your time here Ms Blaze. Scant as it is.” He turned towards Scott. “Mr Summers.” He said, and nodded. Turned and walked out of the room. Two uniformed attendants came in as he left. Wheeling them into another room. 

            Mara’s breaths came in labored and hitched wheezes, barely audible as she struggled to get air through the device strapped on her face. She fought her shackles, the metal digging into her wrists but they wouldn’t reach her face. Her eyes bugged out, searching, pleading.

The “Doctors” of Mars

            “Doc. You swore an oath.” Scott said to the man who walked into the room. The man looked at him, looked at a clipboard. Then pointed to a cylindrical lens in the corner of the room. “You gotta do something.” He pleaded.

            “I gotta take your vitals. But other than that. I don’t gotta do anything. Also, I’m not a doctor. No talking.”

            He went through his procedures in a perfunctory manner. Noting down the results. Then left. The next person who came in the room was a doctor. The first thing he did was take the mask off Mara and address Scott.

            “I did swear an oath.” He said. “So, while some of this is going to be difficult, we won’t be needed that nasty thing for it.”

            Mara sputtered, coughed and took a lot of deep breaths. “How can you do this if you swore an oath?” She asked. Most of the fight out of voice, just a flat question.

            “Some oaths are stronger than others.” He pointed at the camera in the room. “Anyways, we’re going to start with an injection of something that honestly I can’t even tell you exists except, well, because you won’t be able to tell anyone about it, I can.” He pulled out a vial that had an ominous glow to it and two syringes out of a drawer.

            “This is one of the greatest kept secrets of our empire. together. RadSpan.” The Doctor put the needle into the vial and drew up the thick yellow liquid into the syringe and continued speaking. “A drug that makes you nearly immune to radiation and extends your life to well… we aren’t sure how long. Hundreds of years to ‘we’ll see’ longer. It’s one of the most expensive drugs in existence and frankly it’s crying shame that we waste it on you lot.” He pushed the syringe into the bottle and drew out the liquid within which had a thick yellow look to it and had a frankly sickly glow to it.

            “Now the delivery method is by virus, so you’ll start feeling like you’ insides are trying to become your outsides. That’s normal. After a few hours that goes away and it’ll take effect, at that point you’ll understand why people’d sell their firstborn’s last kidney for it. Mara, you’ll be happy to hear we can’t keep that device on your face for the duration of the medications.” He stabbed the needle unceremoniously into Scott’s thigh and slammed the stopper down. Scott gasped and jerked away as far as he could scoot but by that time the Doctor had already taken the needle out and was changing it out for Mara’s dose. He injected her the same though she didn’t jerk or acknowledge him in any way.

            “They’ll be a nurse in to take you all to the facilities and whatnot. Enjoy.” He gathered up the empty vial and syringes and walked out of the room.

            Scott rubbed the injection site. “Good god, it feels like it’s cold and hot at the same time.”

            Mara put a finger up, her hand jerked well shy of her face, she frowned, then shushed him.

            Scott once again rolled his eyes in silence.

            The nurse came in. Took them to separate cells, each with a bathroom. Mara shivered in the corner of the room. There were no blankets, just corners and a thin divider between the door and the toilet. She spent the majority of the time alternating between laying on her side, sweating, dry retching after having puked up the acid in her already empty stomach, and emptying a seemingly impossible amount from her bowels. Scott was decidedly worse off and Mara could hear his moans though there was nothing she could do. Guards or a nurse occasionally looked in on them, but no one offered them any water or food for hours.

            The fever chills and sweats subsided as suddenly as they’d come on. Her body feeling like sunshine after summer deluge. She stood up and walked to the door. Her stomach turned in on itself and she felt hunger like an icepick in her gut. A nurse and a guard came and collected them. Once again forcing them onto a gurney and shackling them both down.

            They were wheeled into a room, another nurse attending to them, checking their vitals and giving them a quick meal, which wasn’t nearly enough for either of them. The nurse didn’t speak or meet their eyes.. They ate in silence. Upon finishing the meal, a simple fare of paste protein fats and carbs in a tube, vaguely flavored of chicken, and some water, the Doctor from before came in.

            “How are you feeling?” He asked. When neither answered, he rolled his eyes. “’I’m asking if you’re still having any symptoms from the virus.” Both prisoners continued to simply stare at him.

            “Alrighty then. Have it your way. This next medication, well, mutagen, is truly something. We call this the Martian Resperaid. Perhaps an uninspired name, it’s the Top Secret bio-tech from our friends out in Gyrxling Galaxy. Peaceable enough folk but damn if they don’t know how to cook up some useful biotech. Strange bunch them, we see them around here and there, looking perfectly human. Y’know we still have no idea what they really look like. Terrifying really. But they change their DNA like we change clothes. Wild really.

            “This little medical wonder will change you from what you are now, a near to god status immortal, enhanced healing and a genetically superior human, to something truly transhuman. You’ll be able to walk out of the airlock here and breath in carbon dioxide and other chemicals, anything mars air can throw at you. Your body will change to process carbon dioxide into oxygen and your skin will become nearly impenetrable. Your tendons will thicken and your muscle fibers will be thirteen times stronger. Your bones will be denser and heavier, stronger than steel. You’ll be able to go outside in negative eighty degrees Celcius and withstand over 70 degrees. Unfortunately while these changes take effect your body temperature will soar. Basically boiling your brain in all these changes. Luckily our Gyrxling friends thought of this, the drug also rebuilds your brain, but sadly the ‘you’ that existed before will be gone. We’ll stick a NeuraPal in your brain and teach what you need to become a Martian Miner. You’ll carry out your sentence for the imaginable future. I’m required by law to inform you of your sentence here. You’ve been informed.” Doctor Graham pointed at the cameras. “And it’s been recorded. So, let’s get started. And, just so you know, this will hurt until it doesn’t.”

            He pulled out two vials from his coat, each held silvery fluid that looked as thick as mercury. He drew a thick needle out and pulled the liquid into it. He repeated the motion on the second vial. “Marking the time, it’s 1345 mars standard time. Prisoners Mara Blaze and Scott Summers will be injected with 100 milliliters of Martian Resperaid.”

            Mara smiled. Scott looked on in horror. Shaking against his restraints. Dr Graham injected them both with the same quick injection he’d done with the Radspan. Scott screamed. Dr Graham just smiled and walked briskly out of the room.

            “Scott. Stop screaming for a minute.” Mara said, she was also visibly in pain. “I told you I’d save your life and I meant it. But you have to listen to me for a minute.”

            Scott gritted and sucked his teeth. “Ok. Ok. Jesus, it feels like I have molten worms crawling inside my leg.”

            “Yeah. This is going to suck.” Mara looked up at the camera. “I have a friend who should have already hacked the camera feed. We’ll find out if they did or not in just a second.” With that Mara started pushing her tongue against a tooth. It popped loose.

            “What is that?” Scott asked with a grimace.

            “Ink.”

            Scott’s look couldn’t have been more horrified. “What the fuck, how’s that supposed to help us?”

            “Well, you know what ink does to people. We’re going to take a fairly lethal dose. With the regeneration drugs they gave us and the Resperaid, either we’re going to die horribly and leave these assholes without their mining drone, as whatever is left is going to be an abomination. Or they’re going to counteract each other and hopefully leave us with enough brain function to get the fuck out of here.” Mara said, a wicked glean in her eye.

            “That plan is insane. Are there any doctors who’ve studied this?! Are you seriously thinking this is going to work?”

            Mara smiled. “Does it matter? We’re dead no matter what. This is the only thing that could possibly fuck these guys over, even if we don’t survive it. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting even, even if it kills me.” She smiled. Then she bit down on the capsule.

Getting Inked

Scott watched in horror as the lights flickered. Overloaded suddenly with ethereal energy. The bulbs popped one by one, the glass tinkling against the light covers. The room filled with a glow from the ink taking over taking Mara’s body. A blackness, tar like, dripped from her mouth. Things twisted inside of it. It dug into her skin. Constricted around her throat, crawled unnaturally over her cheek and into her eyes. She screamed, her muscles of her thin arms standing out like braided cords. Her back arched, her body thrown around with the force of her spasms.

Scott screamed so hard he felt something tear in his throat, he tasted copper. The buckle of Mara’s shackle on the gurney bent, the leather creaked, pulled taut, dug into skin that ripped, the blood spraying out. Thick. Black. Un-flowing, globbing out of her body, then sucking itself back into the tears in her arm. Scott kicked his legs, trying in vain to move himself away.

Mara’s face was a rictus of pain, of terror, of unadulterated agony. Her freed arm tore rents into her face. Her fingernails scoring lines that didn’t bleed, opening into a blackness that seemed to have impossible depth. Trying to tear the black liquid from her mouth, the fingers coming away writhing in ink. The ink pulled itself inside her mouth disappearing. Then she took a sudden breath and stopped tearing at her face. Her breaths came quick, panting. Seemingly without any strain her other arm tore from the restraints. Her finger morphed into an obsidian like claw, glinting in the otherworldly glow cast from her body. She tore the rest of the restraints  away. Stood shakily.

“Scott.” Her voice had changed and sounded like it was spoken by multitudes and sounded from every direction. She walked, shambled broken steps, jerkily towards him. “It’s time to live.”

His voice came from outside himself, hearing it as if it was someone else. Kicking his legs. Thrashing and struggling. Completely forgetting the burning wriggling mass of pain in his leg from the injection earlier. Powerless, watching Mara come to him. She stood over him. Eyes black pools without any white showing. Looking exactly like the void they’d stepped in to come to mars. Then she grabbed him. Vice-like fingers arrested his face as he tried to pull away.

“OPEN.” She said in the multitudinous voice. Scott fought with all his might, gritting he teeth so hard he felt a tooth break. He fought so hard to pull away he felt muscles tear in his neck. But nothing kept her grip from so much as slipping. She pried his mouth apart, his screams sounding hoarse and desperate. She bent. Her lips parting. Pressed against his. He felt her push and then the thick black liquid flowed engorging his mouth. He tried pressing his throat closed. It pushed. It tore into him. Breaking blood vessels and ripping the tissue of his esophagus. He gagged and then the pain hit. Exploding brightly into his mind. It was a cold pain, like holding onto a frozen piece of metal, but all over his body. But it was also intensely pleasurable. He was at once, appalled, disgusted and felt the blood rush to his member, suddenly filling with lust and release, pain and ecstasy. Such was the intensity he felt he should have died ten times over. Visions took him for some time. Of blackness. Of a glassy void that reached into him and over him. That filled him with terrible joy inescapable. Heat washed over his body, shivers, terror, chills, pleasure and pain a rapturous series of opposing emotions and feelings. It took him somewhere. Dreamlike, flying, floating, consciousness flowing. Shapes moving in the depths, reaching towards him, feeling him, tasting him. He tasted of them, drinking deep the void like ink he floated in. The tentacles of the being probing and gentle, stabbing and lovingly tearing him apart.

He gasped suddenly, his face was hot, pulsating painful. He heard the loud smack before he felt it. His head lolled and he was back in the place where nothing mattered. Where being torn apart by the loving being that floated there was all that mattered. A loud smack brought him around again. His head whipped sideways and he had the presence of mind to react.

“Ouch.” He said.

            “Sorry. Can’t let you stay out. Your first inking is the most dangerous.”

            “Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamn bike. You’ve done that before? That was fucking awful.”

            “Ovfuckingcourse. How you think I’m awake and up? The dose we just did is extremely fatal unless you’ve some built up resistance. Why do you think I’m a goddamn skeleton? That shit ate me.” Mara said gesturing to her body which was barely covered, clothes having ripped and torn during the transformation and tearing herself out of the restraints. She was indeed, skeletal. Gaunt, ribs visible, hip bones protruding over taut pale skin. She held a hand down to him. The fingers bony, nails pointed and black. He grabbed it. She pulled him into the air, he bounced lithely to his feet, surprising himself with his newfound dexterity.

            “What the fuck just happened?” He asked.

            “I saved your life.” Mara replied simply.

            He looked down at his hands. Thick black claws extended from his pallid hands. Black veins pulsed beneath the skin. He made his hand into a fist, feeling the strength of them. His tongue rolled over his teeth. They were pointed.

            “What the fuck have I become?” He wondered aloud.

            “Powerful.” Mara answered in that otherworldly, multitudinous voice. Then she smiled, baring black stained pointed teeth. “I’m kidding. Well, I’m not. But we’ve access to powers now. Hopefully without losing too much of ourselves. Though, we’re in some wildly uncharted territory here. Might just turn into a horror at any moment. But until then, I’m hoping to talk you into helping me out with a little something.”

            Light spilled into the darkened room as the door opened. Dr Graham walked in looking at a clipboard, looking up and taking them in. Standing there. Clawed, clothes torn, four ink black pools of eyes staring at him. The clipboard clattered against the floor. Mara shifted across the space. Grabbing him by the throat. Nothing but strangled noises came out of Dr Graham as she held him aloft. She stared into him. Face tilting, then as if a decision was made, his head twisted, neck cracked. His limp body bonelessly flopped to the ground as she dropped him.

            Scott looked at her. “What did you need me to help you with?”

            “Have you heard of the Massacre on Mars?” Was all she asked.