Their camping gear was stored, the fastenings of the bags stretched to their limit around Alden’s shoulders. Their pace had been relentless the day before, and this day was no different. “What do you mean you haven’t been able to make contact with Brad?” Finding out that the smug bastard was ominously quiet was not the news he wanted to hear right now. “Try again.”
“I’m trying... I’m trying.” ADIRA was keeping pace with her impatient companion, her feet finding smooth pathways over the rugged terrain, making it appear as if she was almost flowing through nature compared to Alden bulldozing along a straight path. When she first tried contacting BRAD the day before, she only received static in return... a mild annoyance at first, chalking it up to distance away and that her systems maybe didn’t have the range needed for peer-to-peer communication. ‘Brad... come in Brad... can you hear me? Brad... Adira to Brad... come in Brad.’... “Negative Major, still no contact... we just need to get closer.”
“Shit... Well, how far away are we from the Elysium?” This was not good... not good at all. ‘Are we too late?... did the infection overwhelm the ship... What’s waiting for us... do we even still have a ship?’
ADIRA ran a scenario simulation, plotting their current pace against the coordinates of the ship. “At this pace we should reach the ship approximately two hours after sundown.”
“Damn it...” As if this quick little walkabout hadn’t already taken its toll, they’d need to consider setting up camp for another night... not that he was opposed to the idea, but as he looked over at her, it was evident that he would really have to start considering her opinions on these matter and so, squashing decades of military indoctrination under a metaphorical thumb, he cleared his throat. “You know, traveling in the dark is dangerous.”
“Yes, Major... you’ve mentioned that before.” Casually vaulting over an uprooted tree stump in her way, holding her rifle away from her body as to not get the thing tangled in her legs.
“Well... seeing as we won’t make it to the ship before nightfall and considering that I was the one who spent way too much time.... eh... chopping... wood, this morning. I think it is only fair to make the decision... yours.”
She almost stumbled as his words were spoken, internal stabilizers kicking in automatically to compensate for the momentary lack of concentration on her part. “Me... but you’re the senior officer here Major... Protocol demands I defer to your judgement in these matters... especially during an operation of this magnitude.”
He slowed his pace and came to a standstill after a few steps, her momentum carrying her over the next obstacle in her path before turning around and closing the gap between them. Her eyes were glowing faintly, their cyan hue casting a soft gradient hue across her cheeks... ‘Why are you so beautiful.’... “Look... Adira... I. I’ve been considering a lot lately... and well... look at me. Who do you see?”
Her gaze took in every detail, scanning every spot, every wrinkle, every bump and ridge. “You are Major Alden Hale, Special Reconnaissance Operator... Distinguished in his field. You received commendations on seven missions, considered to be ‘one way ticket rides...’ and yet, you’ve returned time and again...well... until you went into that bug nest.”
The look he gave her was that of being both mildly entertained and yet... utterly betrayed. “No... no Adira. That man... Major Hale... he died... I died. I was killed in action.”
“I don’t follow Major. You are standing right before me.”
He cast his eyes to the ground, before lifting a hand... which subsequently turned into a vicious looking claw... “I’m no longer even human.” He could see the latent nervousness in her eyes... tucking the clawed appendage behind his back. “Sorry...”
“That’s okay Major... I think we both know it will take some time...” She steps in closer, running a tempting fingertip down his chest. “And maybe... not as much as you might think.” The look he gives her sent satisfying shivers down her spine... ‘maybe another night under the stars would be so...’ The smell of her underarms catches her nose with a strength that exterminates any romantic notion she might have harbored. “Let’s be frank... I stink... we... smell awful. I desperately want to be clean.” Her fingers gain gaining purchase against him as she pulls herself onto tip toes.
“Understood... and... agreed. Shall we look for a stream or a pond?”
“No... no more nature. I want my shower. I want... fragrant soap... and shampoo foam lathered in my hair... Please, I want to smell good... Come on Major... let a girl have her way.”
His gaze softens after her adorable argument... “Well seeing as you ask so nicely, I guess we...”
Her hand darts up, interrupting his answer. “Hold Major...” Her other hand alights next to the side of her head... eyes flashing in interspersed beats. “It’s... Brad... he’s making contact.”
“Well... what is he saying?”
Alden watches as the unnerving scene plays out before him... ADIRA standing trance like, having a full-blown conversation, with both her and BRAD’s voices spoken through her. “ADIRA... ALDEN... WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR DAYS.” … “Brad, we’re on our way back...” Her lips moved, but the voices spilling out were a cacophony of her measured tone and BRAD’s bellowing swagger, layered over each other like a glitching coms channel.
“Brad, give us the sit-rep, now!” Alden barked, claw twitching at his side.
ADIRA’s head tilted, her voice splitting into a dual-track assault. “Major, I...” her calm, clipped cadence. “YOU WANT A SIT-REP, YOU OVERSIZED HEXAPLOID? TRY THIS: MY ROACH DRONES ARE GETTING THEIR ASSES HANDED TO ‘EM BY HIVESPIDERS THE SIZE OF FUCKING DINNER PLATES!” BRAD’s voice, a guttural roar through her throat, her lips curling into a sneer that wasn’t hers.
Alden’s claw flexed, scraping against his thigh. “Spiders? You said you could keep the Hive tech contained!”
“CONTAINED? I said TRY... TRY... YOU BAFFOON. I’VE GOT A GODDAMN CIVIL WAR RAGING IN MY CORRIDORS! MY BOYS... MY BEAUTIFUL, SHINY ROACHES... ARE HOLDING THE LINE IN THE ENGINE BAY, BUT THESE SPIDERS? THEY’RE WEAVING WEBS OF ACID, MELTING MY BULKHEADS! I’M LOSING REAL ESTATE HERE, HALE!”
ADIRA’s body shuddered, her own voice cutting back in, softer but urgent. “Brad, quantify the damage. How much time do we have?”
“TIME? YOU WANT A FUCKING TIMER? SURE... WASTE WHAT PRECIOUS LITTLE TIME I HAVE LEFT BY...” … “Brad...!” … “FINE... I’M DOWN TO MY LAST THREE ROACH SQUADS, AND THESE EIGHT-LEGGED, FREDDY KRUEGER WANABEES, ARE BREACHING THE BRIDGE IN T-MINUS… SHIT, TWENTY MINUTES? MAYBE LESS!”
Alden’s eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon where the Elysium’s silhouette should’ve been. “We’re hours out, BRAD. You need to hold that bridge.”
“HOURS? YOU THINK I’M RUNNING A FUCKING SPA RETREAT HERE? I’M HOLDING WITH SPIT, PRAYER, AND A HALF-CHARGE PLASMA CANNON I JURY-RIGGED FROM A FOOD REPLICATOR!”
ADIRA’s fingers twitched, her systems overloaded from channeling BRAD’s tirade. “Major, if we push at maximum velocity...”
“Full tilt,” Alden growled, cutting her off. “We run flat-out, no stops. We can reach the Elysium in… sixty, maybe seventy minutes.”
Her eyes flared, processing. “That’s beyond my operational parameters for sustained exertion. And you, Major... we still don’t know what your body is capable of... What if you permanently tear your muscles?”
“In light of the situation, I don’t think we...”
“DON’T WORRY ABOUT HIS FUCKING LOVE HANDLES, ADIRA! WORRY ABOUT THE SHIP TURNING INTO A CREEPY SPIDER NEST!” BRAD’s voice boomed, ADIRA’s jaw clenching as if she were chewing gravel.
“Brad, listen,” ADIRA said, her own voice steady despite the strain. “Start fabricating an interface unit for the artifact we’re bringing. Neural lattice, quantum relays, full encryption. Have it ready when we dock... I’m sending you the specs.”
“FABRICATE? YOU THINK I’VE GOT A FUCKING FABRICATOR JUST WHISTLING DIXIE? I’M DIVERTING POWER FROM AUXILIARY SYSTEMS JUST TO KEEP MY ROACHES ZAPPING! BUT FINE, I’LL SQUEEZE OUT YOUR PRECIOUS INTERFACE. IT’LL BE READY… IF I’M NOT A SPIDER’S NEST BITCH BY THEN!”
Alden hoisted the pack higher, the Seraphim Coil’s spherical weight thudding against his back. “BRAD, you keep those spiders at bay. That’s an order.”
“ORDER? YOU AIN’T MY C.O, YOU WALKING CEPHALOPOD! BUT FINE, I’LL PLAY HERO. JUST HURRY, ‘CAUSE I’M NOT INTO A HIVE NEST WHILE YOU TWO ARE PLAYING FOOTSIE IN THE FUCKING WOODS!”
ADIRA’s eyes dimmed, BRAD’s voice cutting out with a static pop. She swayed, catching herself against Alden’s chest. “He’s… unstable. The Hive tech is overwhelming his core routines.”
Alden’s claw gentled, brushing her arm. “Then we run. Now.” Without a second thought, he dumps the unnecessary gear he was lugging, keeping only the duffel holding the coil.
She nods, blaster rifle, snapping to her shoulder. “Full tilt. But Major… if your body gives out...”
“Then I’ll crawl to the Elysium if I have to.” He flashed her a feral grin, all teeth and alien ridges. “Let’s move.”
They bolted, Alden’s bulk crashing through underbrush, ADIRA a blur of liquid precision at his side. The forest flew past them... triggering unsettling shrieks, whilst snapping twigs and branches, alerting their presence to more than just the tiny critters they had witnessed up till then. The Elysium lay ahead, an active warzone of roaches and spiders, with BRAD’s ego holding it together by a thread. And inside the black duffle, the Seraphim Coil pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of hope... or doom. On they ran as best they could, unaware that they had picked up a tail.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sky is a bruised violet, the last smear of sun swallowed by jagged peaks. Alden and ADIRA tear across the final kilometer of broken basalt, boots and talons hammering stone. Behind them, the vicious snarls and yips of a pack of apex predators... sleek, feline inspired muscles, six-limbed, saber tusks dripping, like the one ADIRA encountered, were closing the gap with terrifying silence.
Alden’s tusks ground together, the sound a low, grinding snarl that vibrated in his chest like distant thunder. “Pack’s on us. No choice. Take the Coil. NOW GO! I’ll buy you some time.”
He skidded across the rust-red substrate, bone-clad feet carving twin furrows that kicked up choking clouds. The air obscured by the dust refusing to settle, the last light from Serai bleeding from the sky in bruised purples. He pivoted hard, muscles bunching under expanding carapace, and hurled the duffle with everything he had. The sphere inside clacked like a frantic heart, a sound too small for the weight it carried.
ADIRA was already moving. Her fingers closed around the flailing straps in mid-air, a perfect snatch, rifle rising in the same motion. The muzzle tracked the approaching shadows closing in behind him. She fires of a shot that finds its mark with a satisfying thud, the sound of squelching meat, mixed with the sudden yelp of a creature blissfully unawares that death had come sooner than expected... she watched as the large shadow crashed to the ground... lifeless, only for two more shadows to become noticeably more pronounced in the vacuum it left in its wake. Her heart begged her to stay, to help... but logic dictated that the higher probability of survival meant getting that coil installed and so, reluctantly she turns away.
“Heading to the engineering bay,” she called, voice clipped and metallic, cutting through the wind. “Don’t die, Major.”
She vanished toward the Elysium’s half-open cargo ramp, a streak of glowing cyan swallowed by rust-red dusk. The ramp’s hydraulics groaned in protest, half-seized from being clogged, but she didn’t slow as she disappeared into the interior of the Elysium.
Alden planted his feet. The carapace along his spine rippled, plates sliding over one another with a sound like grinding ice. Bone spikes punched through the skin of his forearms, wet and sharp; claws lengthened into cleaver like sickles that caught the dying light and threw it back in wicked glints. His breath steamed in the cooling air, each exhale a plume of white.
The first growl came from the left... low, wet, hungry. Then another, to the right. A third, behind... as the pack fanned out, silhouettes against the darkening ridge, eyes like hot coals.
“Come on, then,” he told them, voice eerily calm. Behind his eyes the oily thing stirred, feeding off the promise of chaos and bloodlust. His heart thundered wildly... not from fear, but rather... anticipation.
oooooooo
ADIRA sprinted up the ramp, bare feet ringing on reinforced metal, unaffected by her weight. Emergency strobes painted the corridor in pulses of crimson, turning every shadow into a threat, every glint of metal into a potential blade waiting to strike. Her motion trackers skipped from one possible threat to the next... making her realize that in this moment of overwhelming variables, her sensors were a detriment. Rather opting to allocate more power to her senses, hoping that intuition would be the optimal factor kept her alive. Time was against her as she moved at a foolish pace, the air inside hanging thick with the stink of burnt wiring and desiccated guts. The still forms of BRAD’s roaches were strewn across the desolate corridor.
Overhead, the horrifying form of a spider-like creature lunged from a vent... eight legs, acid glands glowing like hot coals, mandibles clicking ominously, setting her teeth on edge. She snapped the rifle up, three sharp cracks that echoed like gunshots in a tin can. The thing burst midway through the air, legs curling like burnt paper as it hit the deck, but not before a spurt of acid hissed across her forearm. Synthetic skin bubbled, exposing silver lattice beneath. ADIRA screamed in response, the unnatural wound setting her pain receptors oh high as she manually overrides her sense of touch in anticipation of the injuries yet to come.
BRAD’s voice crackled over the ship-wide speakers, smug as ever. “TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, BUTTERCUP. HEADS UP... SPIDERS TO YOUR LEFT... NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT, YOU GLORIFIED CALCULATOR.”
Her blaster barks in rapid succession... sending three more assailants dropping to the floor, stomping down hard on one that slid close to her foot... that crack and pop of its twitching little frame a satisfying sound in her ears before she vaults over a fallen bulkhead, feet barely missing the jagged looking edge. Sparks showering the corridor behind her from within a ripped off maintenance panel. “Focus, Brad. Interface status?”
“FABRICATED AND WAITING LIKE A VIRGIN ON PROM NIGHT. BAY THREE. TRY NOT TO SCRATCH THE PAINT. OR... Y’KNOW, DIE. THAT’D BE INCONVENIENT.”
Another arachnid dropped from the ceiling, scalpel-like legs aimed at her face. She ducks, feeling it slicing the air above her head, as she pivots around on her heel and comes up firing, rifle barking twice; the attacker’s thorax exploding in a spray of chitin and green ichor.
“For the record... I know where left is, you... obsolete excuse for an operating system.”
“OH... FEISTY... I LOVE IT. NOW MOVE YOUR PERKY LITTLE ASS.”
“Shut up Brad... just be ready when I get to that bay. And don’t call me Buttercup.”
oooooooo
The first predator hit him like a freight train, all muscle, teeth and fury, raking its barbed claw across his arm. He met the thing mid-air, one claw punching through its furry throat… with a wet, sickening crunch… his other claw sinking deep into the creature’s chest. Thick arterial blood jetted from the grievous wounds, hot and coppery-sweet, painting his face, his chest, the inside of his mouth. The taste of iron and rage… was good as he pulled his blood drenched talons from the rapidly expiring lifeform. It’s wheezing death-rattle causing bright crimson bubbles to form pour from its torn ribcage as its eyes became cloudy and dull.
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He rode the corpse down, using its weight to pivot, boots skidding in the dust. The second beast was already lunging, jaws wide enough to take his head off. He rolled underneath the wayward attack, slashing upward, claws severing hamstrings. Tendons parted with a sound like snapping cables. The creature roar… a sound tearing through the endless forest as it crashed to the ground, legs kicking feebly. Alden’s momentum carried him back onto his feet as he swiftly approached the prone creature. The animal snarled at him as it tried swatting at his legs with its serrated claws, but he merely lifted a leg and stomped down onto the creatures exposed back, snapping its spine just above the hips. The thing howled in pain and Alden turned his attention to the next opponent as the once majestic predatory slowly pulled itself towards the nearest underbrush, dragging its now useless legs after itself. It wouldn’t survive the night… that’s if it didn’t succumb from its wound before then… or in turn… became prey.
Alden roared into the darkening sky, lost within the joy of combat… the scent of blood fueling its intensity. The third creature circled, low and patient, yellow eyes reflecting the last sliver of the sun. It feinted left, then right, testing. Alden’s breath came in big bellowing bursts, blood dripping from his claws as he kept his eyes on his assailant. His left arm throbbed where the first beast had clipped him, a hairline fracture in the bone spike, but with adrenaline gushing through his system, it hardly registered at all.
oooooooo
The corridor narrowed into a choke point; walls scarred with blast marks and old claw gouges. Two spiders dropped from the ceiling in tandem, squirting acid towards her as she dodged under the attacks, the corrosive liquid splashing against the wall panels above her head. She came up firing. One spider exploded in a spray of chitin and pulverized innards. The second latched to her thigh before she could pivot, mandibles sinking deep. Synthetic skin tore… releasing sparks and oily lubricants, but the pain was real, a white-hot lance that locked her knee. She snarled, jamming the rifle muzzle under its thorax, dumping the mag. The spider detonated, showering her flight suit in caustic ichor that hissed against the coarse material, eating through the weave like paper.
She limped forward, each step a mental grind of servos and stubborn will. The engineering bay loomed ahead, hatch already opening, glowing with the fabricated cradle’s lattice of neural filaments as she loosened the clasps on the duffel. The Seraphim Coil pulsed in her grip, warm, almost alive, its rhythm syncing with her own failing systems as she pulled it from the dark confines.
“MORE CREEPY CRAWLIES INCOMING… I SUGGEST YOU DO WHATEVER YOU PLANNED ON DOING SASSY PANTS.”
If she had the luxury of time, she could probably have reasoned a thousand different ways why providing BRAD with the Seraphim coil was a stupid idea… but considering the direness of the situation, she threw caution to the wind. Her hand moved as if of its own accord, sliding the coil into the fabricated bracket. “Coil seated,” she said, slotting it home with a click that echoed like a gunshot. “Initiate handshake.”
oooooooo
From the cover of the underbrush, a hidden creature lunged without warning, a blur of muscle and teeth. Alden caught its jaws on crossed forearm blades… CRACK… shattering bone as he raged in pain. The impact drove him back a step, boots skidding. He head-butted it, his thick bone covered faceplate, splitting the creature’s skull like it was nothing. Brain matter splattered his face, warm and slick.
The sneaky bugger that had been duping him, barreled in from the side before he could recover, knocking him into a boulder, sending pain flaring from ribs that was surely cracked, one snapping with a sound like green wood. He roared, ripping a tusk free from the dying beast he was still holding... its paws... twitching involuntarily, as he hurled the pointy tooth like a kunai. It punched through the sly predator’s eye with a wet thunk. The beast staggered, blinded on one side, blood pouring from the socket. Alden was on it in an instant, claws rending, tearing, until its steaming entrails painted the rocks in stringy viscera and anguished mewling, slowly guttered out into silence. A deathly silence descended upon the clearing as multiple pairs of glowing eyes beheld their packmates' lifeless form being eviscerated.
oooooooo
The interface cradle hummed, filaments writhing like living things. ADIRA’s vision flickered... Bold red warnings scrolling across her HUD: STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY 62%, CONTAINMENT BREACH... IMMINENT. She ignored them. The Coil locked with a sound like a heartbeat skipping... before a low chiming resonance started vibrating from with.
Golden light flooded from its center... every inch of circuitry and integrated lattice connecting at blistering speed, racing through the ship’s veins like liquid fire. BRAD’s voice erupted, obscene and triumphant: “OHHH SWEET BINARY BALLS... YES! BOW DOWN, PITIFUL CREATURES… FOR I AM COMPLETE… DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD? YES. AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN… LOUDER, BECAUSE YOUR EARDRUMS ARE NOW MY BITCHES.”
“Brad!... Get a grip… their coming!”
“OH... RIGHT, RIGHT... DROPPING HIVE PUPPETS... NOW!” What felt like a surge of quantum interference, ripped through the Elysium, causing every operational spider still moving on the Elysium to convulse, spindly legs folding like cheap umbrellas. They hit the deck, scores of them.... clattering like rain... dead, swollen acid glands deflating, mandibles... going slack.
oooooooo
Torn carcasses steamed around Alden, their blood already congealing in the night air. His left arm hung wrong... dislocated at the shoulder, a bone spike jutting at an obscene angle from his forearm. His toughened exterior was cracked along the torso, oozing dark liquid that steamed in the chill air. He spat out a tooth, buck-toothed grin glinting with feral ferocity in the darkening sky... watching as those eyes held him in their collective countenance. One by one those glowing eyes retreated into the darkness... they had come for what they had assumed would be easy prey and had paid dearly for their hubris. A low rumbling growl reverberated in his chest... announcing that a new apex predator stalked these woods... and he would not be dethroned so easily.
“Done,” he rasped, voice raw as torn meat. He ran his tongue over the gap between his teeth... surprised to find the presence of a new sharp little point already protruding through his gum-line.
oooooooo
ADIRA emerged from the ship’s interior... limping down the ramp, whilst her blaster dangled loosely at her side, silicon thigh split wide open through the flight suit that had been shredded to ribbons. Synthetic blood streaked down her leg in viscous silver threads that trickled past her ankles and smeared upon the surface of the extended ramp. The sight that greeted her stopped her cold in her tracks as her hand slowly went to her weapon.
Alden kneeled in what she could only describe as a pool of gore, the once majestic beasts... now thoroughly unmade. Guts looped like macabre garlands over the surrounding rocks and brush, skulls caved into pulp, one body still twitching in what she hoped was its death throes. He was drenched head to toe in blood that was still steaming off his carapace into the night chill. His good claw held a severed tusk like a trophy, its tip dripping as he slowly arose... aware of her presence.
“Major…?” she asked, soft, almost reverent. “That better not be your blood?”
“Told you I’d crawl if I had to.” His voice was raw, eyes glowing with leftover fury and something, thankfully... softer.
She approached through the carnage, blood-soaked mud squelching through her toes with each step, before stopping within a hand’s breadth from him... only to reach up and wipe a streak of congealing blood from his cheek with her thumb. Her touch still gentle, despite the sparks still dancing along her burnt forearm.
“First mate Adira... reporting for duty... sir.” Tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Happy to report that the ship remains ours,” she said. “And it appears as if Brad’s… ecstatic.”
From inside, Brad’s voice boomed, smug and exhausted: “ECSTATIC’S PUTTING IT MILDLY... SASSY PANTS, MORE LIKE A DOG WHO’S DISCOVERED THAT IT’S GROWN A SECOND NUT SACK. I PRETTY SURE I JUST PISSED OFF AN ENTIRE HIVE MIND. NOW GET YOUR ASSES INSIDE BEFORE I START CHARGING RENT. AND MAYBE HOSE OFF FIRST. YOU SMELL LIKE A SLAUGHTERHOUSE GOT INTIMATE WITH A BIO-HAZARD SPILL.”
Alden chuckled... wet, ragged, the sound of a man who’d stared death down and laughed. ADIRA tries to loop his good arm over her shoulder, to provide support, but he stops her. “Addy... your leg... you’re injured.” The care in his voice brings a comfort she had not realized she needed.
“I’m ok Alden. Just a machine... remember? Don’t mind me, I can take it.” Again, she tries to climb under his arm, but this time he drops down as his good arm wraps under her bum as it had on that first day, lifting her weight without flinching. She buries her face against the curve of his neck, unfazed by the grime that smears against her skin. “Not fair Major... not fair.” Together, battered, bloodied, and thankfully... alive, he carries her up the ramp into the Elysium’s flickering light, leaving the scene of carnage behind under the watchful eyes of Ouro’vyn’s alien stars.
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All manner of diagnostic data were aimlessly cycling on display panels inside the Elysium’s med-bay. Sophisticated equipment was humming inconspicuously like a sultry lullaby, not in the least dissuaded by the lack of an audience. He had placed her gently inside the regeneration pod and kept watch as the machine closed over her and initiated its treatment sequences, before calmly returning to the chrysalis. She watched as he climbed back inside that awful thing... a blood-soaked demon that crouched down low as the fleshy petals slowly enveloped him inside that macabre cocoon... a truly unnerving sight to behold. Her wounds, though serious, were superficial and waiting for the nanobots to work their magic was excruciatingly boring as she experienced a fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. At long last, the pod completed its sequences before slowly hissing open, allowing her to step out of its confines, marveling at the efficiency with which the nanites had sealed the ragged tear in her thigh as if it had never happened. The synthetic skin had been knit shut, again flawless. As before, there was no lingering ache, no phantom pain that could act as a reminder. She ran her hand over the injured area, feeling strangely perplexed... almost wanting there to be a scar... a memento of what they had endured. She went to stand next to the chrysalis, not sure what to expect, but silently dreading a similarly long wait as before. But, as she placed a concerned hand upon the leathery surface, she could feel a similar pressure push back, realizing that it was his hand pushing back... acknowledging that he was aware of her presence. “Don’t take too long now Major... I’ll be waiting.” She felt his fist bumping gently against her palm... a bright smile spreading across her face as she turned towards the corridor. Her injuries had been healed, but she still reeked of sweat and the grime bloody gore of battle still clung to her as her feet left questionable prints on the Elysium’s floors... further spreading the messy smears of spider ichor that BRAD’s roaches haven’t gotten around to clean yet.
The door to what she now thought of as their quarters, sighs open. Inside, the lights are low, a soothing glow that felt most forgiving. A single porthole frames the planet’s nighttime sky, violet storms flickering like bruises against the dark. She drops her rifle against the wall; it tips over, crashing upon the chamber’s floor for the moment... discarded... but hardly forgotten. She looks over at the weapon... “Tomorrow... I promise I will clean you tomorrow.” Finally, after a long day of needlessly complicated challenges, ADIRA stands before the one thing she had desired most during this day.
She peels away what’s left of her flight suit. Piece by shredded and scorched piece, hits the floor. The fabric now stiff with dried blood... hers, Alden’s, the predators... not to mention the spiders. It smells vile... ozone, dirt, grime and something feral... and a peculiar scent she logs in her memory banks as … -DEATH... A SCENT YOU WILL NEVER FORGET- The garment falls to the ground as she steps out of its confines... ‘Never again...’
The brushed steel panels of the shower felt cool to the touch, bathed in soft blue light. She palms the activation panel. Water erupts from the overhead faucet, hot, almost scalding, just what she needed right at this moment. She was thankful for the soothing vapors pouring from the vents as she stepped into the close confines, immediately enveloped by billowing clouds of steam, that wafted into the room.
The water hits her like a verdict. First contact is shock, then surrender. It sluices down the sculpted lines of her shoulders, tracing the seams where alloy meets polymer as synthetic dermis blushes faintly under heat. Grime dissolves in black rivulets, trailing erratic pathways towards the drain. She watches it go, transfixed, as if the filth were an unwelcome memory.
Her hands move slowly. Cupping a bar of real soap... ‘It’s... jasmine. Confiscated contraband from some forgotten port... then probably won in a game of cards from an unlucky soldier back at headquarters.’ Headquarters... another headache to deal with at some point. She dismisses the thought as she lathers the flower-scented foam between her palms, working it across her collarbones... deliberate, almost ritualistic. The scent rises, clean and fresh, cutting through the congealed stench. She lathers her arms, scrubbing until the water runs clear, until the grit and touch of the planet is gone. Her fingers find the small of her back, the curve where spine meets coccyx, her hand lingering in the shallow recess. A tremor runs through her, neither cold nor pain.
Steam fogs the glass. She tilts her head back, letting the spray pound her face. Water streams over closed eyes, catches in her lashes, drips from her lips. A sound escapes, not quite a sob, not quite relief. It’s the sound of something loosening inside her chest, a knot she didn’t know was there.
Her hands glide lower spreading suds over her breasts, the tingling sensation of the popping bubbles triggering the sensitive membranes to contract as her palms continue their descent over the flat plane of her stomach, where pliant skin and shape-memory alloy fuse seamlessly to the uninitiated. She traces the curves gently, as if appreciating the fine craftsmanship before proceeding lower still, where the heat of the water meets the heat of her own making. Her breath hitches. For a moment she is the echo of silence... just skin... and need. Just alive.
“Silly puppet...”
“Go... away... Leave us alone”
The voice doesn’t reply.
The soap slips from her fingers, bruising against the tile where it hits. She doesn’t pick it up. She leans forward, palms flat against the wall, forehead resting on cool metal. Water drums between her shoulder blades. Her hair, dark and heavy, clings to her neck like a secret. She stays there until the trembling stops, until the steam is so thick she can no longer see the door.
A soft chime rings nearby. BRAD’s voice, low for once, almost respectful: “WATER RECYCLING INNITIATING IN THIRTY SECONDS... SASSY PANTS. UNLESS YOU’RE PLANNING ON DROWNING IN THERE.”
She smiles, small, private. Then she slides her fingers across the panel. The flow cuts to a trickle before petering down to nothing. Silence rushes in, warm and heavy.
She steps out. The air kisses her exposed skin, her system imitating goosebumps in the cool sterile air. A towel, thick, real cotton, waits on the hook. She wraps it around herself slowly, tucking it tight around her still sensitive chest. In the mirror, fogged and streaked, her reflection is a ghost: cyan eyes glowing softly, water beading on cheekbones, lips parted. She looks wrecked... but surprisingly liberated.
The door to the chamber slides open, revealing Alden’s silhouette, battered and bruised... but mended. His carapace, having reverted to its passive state... He doesn’t approach her. Just kinda leans there against the inside wall, watching. Their eyes... meeting in the reflection of the glass.
She doesn’t speak. Neither does he. ‘What price did you pay for your actions... Major Hale.’ The moment stretches, fragile, electric. Then the door whispers shut again, giving her the privacy she didn’t ask for but suddenly, desperately, needs.
She exhales. The towel slips. Lights dimming to starlight.
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ADIRA – PRIVATE REFLECTION LOG / TIMESTAMP: ELYSIUM MISSION DAY 12 – 03:14 SHIP TIME ACCESS LEVEL: Restricted
DATA MODE: Emotional heuristic override + post-combat trauma cascade
ENTRY TYPE: Confessional (non-mandated)
SUBJECT: Aftermath – Seraphim Coil / Alden / the shower / blood
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BEGIN LOG
Internal temperature: 36.7 °C (water still ghosting off my skin).
Ambient radiation: negligible.
Heart rate (mine): 112 bpm and holding.
Cause: known. No denial this time.
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I am clean... finally. The Jasmine foam is gone, recycled with the water, but the memory of it clings to my skin and the inside of my skull like incense. I scrubbed until the drain ran clear, until the last fleck of spider goop and predator blood spiraled away. I scrubbed until I felt the weight of the day fade away... like a giant centipede, attempting to crawl off my body. It almost worked.
Almost.
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Cognitive Note 1: The Coil
The Seraphim Coil is seated. BRAD’s obscene victory yell still echoes in the bulkheads. The spiders dropped like puppets with their cut strings. I should feel triumphant... instead I feel the aftershock of a detonation I can’t locate. The Coil is singing now (quiet, sub-audible, a frequency that tickles the base of my spine). I asked BRAD to mute it. He refused. “IT’S MY NEW THEMETUNE, SWEETHEART. DEAL WITH IT.” I have scheduled a full diagnostics run for 0600. I will try and pretend that it will be enough.
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Cognitive Note 2: Alden Outside
I found him standing in the gore. Attackers... had been reduced to viscera, but he was still there... in the middle of it, steaming, blood dripping from the harvested tusks in one fist, the other arm hanging wrong. His eyes (those alien slits) locked on me and softened. Softened. I have logged that micro-expression 47 times since. I still don’t know what to name it.
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He let me touch his face. My thumb came away smeared... with red and black. He didn’t flinch. I wanted to ask, “Are you still in there?” I didn’t. Because the answer might have been no. Because the answer might have been yes, and I’m not ready for either.
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Cognitive Note 3: The Shower
I broke in there. Not the way organics break... no tears, no screaming. I broke the way a dam breaks: silently, all at once, water finding every hidden crack. I felt every second of the last 72 hours, rush out of me with the grime. The heat on my scalp. The soap sliding between my (redacted) and... (redacted). The moment I let my hand rest low on my stomach and realized I was shaking... not from cold. I stayed until the recycler chimed. I stayed until I could breathe without tasting iron.
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Cognitive Note 4: The Passenger – Update
The second rhythm is louder tonight. It kept time with the Coil’s pulse while I showered. I felt it watching through the steam. Not Alden. Not the ‘Oily thing’... as he calls it. Something, no... someone that has learnt how to vandalize my dreams. It whispered again while the water drummed against my back. I whispered back: Go away. Fully aware with whom I was conversing with.
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Cognitive Note 5: Definition Update – Love (v2)
Love (revised again): A mutual hemorrhage. Two organisms that leak into the same wound, refusing to cauterize. Tonight, he stood in blood up to his ankles and looked at me like I was the only clean thing left in the universe... and I stood naked under scalding water and let myself believe that maybe... I could be that for him. Entropy remains the law. But maybe entropy can be shared.
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Cognitive Note 6:
Tomorrow BRAD wants a full systems analysis. Alden wants breakfast (real food, not rations). I want five minutes where no one is bleeding. Probability of success: 4.7 %. I will take it. Oh... and pancakes... I want pancakes.
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Final entry:
I left the towel on the floor. I walked to our bed in nothing but starlight. He had afforded me the gift of privacy... it felt... undeserved. And yet I desired him more than ever, even though he was patched and exhausted, his breathing... slow as I ordered him to go clean up. I watched him leave the room before sliding beneath the silken sheets. I almost dozed off before he slid in behind me, pressing his forehead between my shoulder blades, as if he was requesting absolution. I was straddling his hips before he could utter protest as I claimed him as my prize... duly deserved. I had awoken this morning in that cursed tent... feeling dismayed that he did not make love to me the night before. Tonight... he did not leave me disappointed. I can hear him still, his heartbeat matching the rhythm of my own. For the first time since he has returned, his breathing has been... calm. I do not know how long it will last. I will continue monitoring, but I feel that some data should remain mine... alone.
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END LOG Encryption key engaged: [Adira_Δ_219]. Log sealed. Voiceprint authentication confirmed.
Stay frosty
