Prominence Part 3

Prominence, continued from part 2:

PART III

THE HOWLING OF THE WOLVES

     I stand on top of the outpost, quietly watching the waves crash against the rocks far below. It’s nighttime on Prominence. The rest of Olympus is silent, as people sleep peacefully in their beds.

     Or at least, that’s what I THINK they’re doing.

     I feel a pang of emptiness in my stomach, and I turn around, facing the top of the outpost. Then I see something out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to face it, and my heart leaps into my throat.

     Five people, hanging from a wire above me, dead. They are the other scientists, killed, and blood drips from their bodies. I turn rigid and feel fear, my blood running icy cold. They are dead.

     Then I feel breathing on the back of my neck. Cold, rasping, inhuman breathing. A hand with too many fingers grabs my arm forcefully, holding me in place, and my fear grows so intense that I can’t move. Someone…or something…leans into my ear and whispers.

     “Can you hear the howling of the wolves?”

     Then a sharp weapon draws a line across my throat in a red crescent.

     I awake with a start, launching up to a sitting position in bed. The quarters are lighter inside now, as the other scientists scurry around and get ready for the day. Aubree and Marthus are both gone.

     “Hey, John, welcome to reality,” greets Shawn, and I turn to see him sitting on his bed and putting on some deodorant. He is already dressed and his supplies are packed in his bag.

     I can’t speak. Dr. Hughes’ words and the nightmare continue to run through my brain. Shawn notices my expression.

     “John?” he inquires, “Are you ok?”

     I try to shake it off, without much success, but my voice returns.

     “Uh…” I say, stammering, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

     I throw my sheets off and rub my eyes. Maura is over on her bed, to my left, doing her hair with a curler. I look straight ahead and see a skin-colored shape behind the translucent shower curtain, which I can only assume is Jack, taking a morning rinse.

     “What happened in your dream?” inquires Maura, suddenly interested.

     I glance at her, puzzled. “Why do you need to know?”

     “I’m a scientist,” she says, “And I majored in dream sciences. What, did you think I was just curious?”

     I look at Shawn, who looks mildly interested. He nods to me.

     Turning back to Maura, I begin to explain my dream.

     “Well,” I inform her, “I was standing on top of the outpost, and then someone snuck up behind me and killed me.”

     She nods and thinks for a minute.

     “Is that it?”

     “Well, he said something.”

     “What?”

     “He said, ‘Can you hear the howling of the wolves?’”

     At this, her face goes rigid. She recollects herself quickly.

     “Were you lucid during your dream?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Like, were you aware that you were dreaming?”

     “Oh. No.”

     She looks slightly concerned.

     “Well, I’d better get down to the lab. I need to monitor the dreams of the cryo-sleepers.” She smiles, feebly. “You, know, for science.”

     And with that, she turns and leaves, the door closing quickly behind her.

     “I’d better go, too,” says Shawn, as he rises to his feet. “I’ve got some weapons to work on.”

     He leaves, the light streaming in from outside almost blinding me. Then it is gone, and all I can hear is the sound of the shower running.

    

     The laboratory is much louder inside than it was before. The scientists scuttle about the floor, carrying things around to set up their work areas or already beginning their research. The cryo-beds’ lids are ajar, as the test subjects prepare for a session of sleeping. Lucky them.

     I walk down the stairs and take my time, looking around the room to see who is there. I notice that Aubree is back; she’s sitting at a desk while peering down at something through a microscope. Maura gives orders to the cryo-sleepers, assigning them beds and entering data into her touchscreen control panel. Shawn is welding some metal plating to an object that looks like a missile. Jack hasn’t arrived yet, Marthus is still in the medical bay, and Dr. Hughes is nowhere to be seen.

     When I have reached the floor, I wander over to Aubree to see if she knows anything about the location of our head scientist. His words from last night continue to pulse through my brain, sending constant chills down my spine.

     “Hey, Aubree,” I say, in a slightly hushed tone; I don’t want to be noticed, or someone might put me up to some strange task. “How’d you sleep?”

     “Fine,” she responds, turning a knob on the neck of the microscope. She doesn’t look up. “I had this…weird dream.”

     She’s got my attention.

     “What about?”

     “Well,” she says, taking her eye away from the device and turning it off, “I dreamed I woke up in the middle of the night to the howling of wolves. I ran outside, to the top of the outpost, and saw a bunch of them lining the cliffs nearby, just howling at the moon.”

     She looks slightly shaken, and I begin to wonder if there is some connection between her dream, mine, and Dr. Hughes’ speech.

     “Was that it?”

     “Yeah. Then I woke up. Did you sleep well?”

     “Oh, yeah. Just fine.”

     I decide not to tell her about my dream. She might get too curious.

     “Say, where’s Dr. Hughes?” I inquire, trying to change my tone to a more natural and casual one. “And is Marthus ok?”

     Her face turns somber. So much for casualty.

     “Well, Dr. Hughes hasn’t been seen since last night,” she informs me, standing up and pushing her rolling chair under the table, “And Marthus hasn’t woken up since he fell into the water.” She looks around to make sure no one is listening, then she leans in. “I don’t know, John, you think something is up?”

     “There most definitely is not,” snaps another voice from behind, one I know all too well.

     Before turning around, I greet her.

     “Good morning, Commander Lynch,” I say, formally, and then I turn to look at her. Her arms are crossed, and her face is in a scowl. The bustling people around her seem to try and avoid touching her. “What brings you to the laboratory on this fine morning?”

     She looks unimpressed.

     “Here’s the deal, sweet cheeks,” she growls, “You need to get to work. I’ve heard that you’ve been making some people nervous around here, what with all this talk about wolves.”

     I put on a confused expression.

     “I’m sorry, Commander, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Ah-ah-ah, NO, we are NOT going to play that game,” she hisses, stepping closer to me. I suddenly notice how much taller she is. “You need to shut your flirt hole, because there are NO wolves on this God-forsaken space rock, and there is definitely no other life.” She frowns. I can tell she is going into ominous mode.

     “Well, we don’t know that,” interjects Aubree, innocently, “I mean, none of us even know what’s beyond those cliffs.”

     Lynch looks like she might torch the laboratory.

     “Hush, pretty-miss-nuke-nerd,” she snaps, glaring, “Why don’t you go back to staring at that fascinating little rock in a petri dish?”

     Aubree looks taken aback, and she sits down in her chair. Before I can defend her, I turn and find Lynch staring deep into my eyes and about two feet closer.

     “You listen here, Romulo,” she says through gritted teeth, “You may be a smart, nerdy little scientist, who spends his time playing with dead bodies and eating your own corpse friends’ deposits to find out if they liked a certain type of book, but that doesn’t stop me from BEING IN CHARGE OF YOU.”

     I roll my eyes.

     “So, here’s the deal:” she continues, ignoring my face, “You’re gonna shut your zombie-kisser and stop freaking the people out on this base, because the last thing I need is a bunch of scared twerps with Hypershock Rifles. Understand?”

     She just stares into my soul for a minute as I watch her in fear.

     “Uh…” I stammer, “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”

     “Good,” she spits, turning around and marching back up the stairs quickly. I do nothing but watch her leave.

     When the Commander has left, I notice that the room is quieter. All the cryo-sleepers are in their chambers, as Maura monitors their dreams. Aubree is quiet and has gone back to work, leaving only the sound of Shawn’s welding in the room.

     “Is there anything you need, John?” asks Maura, not even looking up from her monitors.

     “Uh…no. No, I just need some fresh air.”

     The top of the outpost is like the laboratory; bustling. Although, up here, it’s organized. Soldiers, with their guns and various artillery, march around in groups of six, fully dressed in their armor and uniforms and making their way to their morning-shift posts. I gaze around the platforms and don’t see Lynch, so the coast is clear.

     “Hey, you, necrophile,” calls a voice. Speak of the devil.

     “Yes, Commander?” I groan, turning to face her.

     “I need you to be on watch duty for a little while,” she commands, handing me a communication device, a black cylinder with a red set of buttons. “Just go up to that watchtower and take in the sights. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, but sorry, there are no dead bodies.”

     “Har-har,” I say, taking the device out of her hands. “One question, though: how do I get up there?”

     She rolls her eyes, as the wind blows through her hair. Prominence is oddly chilly this morning.

     “Just use the HeliCraft,” she says, with an ‘Isn’t it obvious’ expression. “Geez, Romulo, I thought you were smart.”

     “Oh, uh, sorry, yes sir, I mean, mam. Right away.”

     “When are you ever going to learn?” She just turns and walks down the ramp into the second level.

    

     All the HeliCraft controls are familiar to me now. I just hop in (with some suspicious looks from the soldiers), and start the vehicle up, lifting off in no time. It only takes me about a minute to reach the top of the spire and land.

     The watchtower is only a one-room structure, basically just a wide platform with a shelter held up over it. I have a 360-degree view of the ocean, shaded by the roof. The HeliCraft lands right outside the tower, on a protruding platform.

     When I am inside the watchtower, I set the communications device down on the ledge that separates me from the sheer drop into the crashing waves below. I gaze out peacefully over the water. Nothing is there, just sunrise, and the cliffs to my left, which I can see over now; they extend into canyons and rivers beyond the horizon. I am at such a height now, the soldiers on Olympus below look like specks. I feel almost powerful up here, and I forget for just a minute about the eerie past few events in the outpost.

     Then my eyes catch something; something coiled around the supports that hold up the roof above me. A rope. Striding over to it, I gaze over the edge, following the rope’s length with my eyes. Then my feeling of power goes away, and my heart leaps into my throat.

     A body. A dead one. Hanging from the watchtower. By its neck.

     Heart racing, I lean over further to try and figure out who it is. Someone…hanged themselves? I grasp the thick rope and pull as hard as my muscles can stand to bring the corpse up into the room.

    

Dr. Hughes.

     All the blood drains out of my face, flowing down into my chest where it runs cold. I shiver and feel suddenly vulnerable, like a balloon with a needle directly next to it. Dr. Hughes is dead. He hanged himself.

     Trembling, I slide the body over the edge and let it flop onto the marble floor of the watchtower. His face is cold and pallid, dead and lifeless. The rope is tied tightly around his neck, a noose.

     I fall to my knees, too shocked to even know what to do. Had no one seen this before? And when did he do this? I thought he was tied up, and if not, then who let him go?

     Before my mind can burst under the pressure of my thoughts, I notice something else, something that had been hiding in plain sight. Something that I hadn’t noticed until just now, when my fears are at their peak. A message, scribbled on the floor, in dark red liquid, dried, stained. A message that immediately makes me think of how little we know of Prominence.

They’re coming.

    

     They’re coming.

     What does that even mean? Who is coming? Is there someone on this planet that none of us know about? Or more than one person? Or was Hughes just insane? Are the wolves howling?

     As soon as that question crosses my mind, I freeze and even pause my breathing. I shiver at the thought, but my instincts go off, and I know that we aren’t safe. There is no proof. There is no reason. But I can feel it; we are in danger. Shaking and trembling with nothing else to do, I scramble to my feet and snatch the communication device from its perch on the ledge. Punching in a number, I hold it up to my mouth, waiting for Aubree, or Maura, or Shawn, or Lynch, or ANYONE, to respond. A few seconds go by with nothing but static, but then someone picks up.

     “Good dead bodies, Romulo, there’s no need to send out a DISTRESS SIGNAL,” says the voice of Kassandra Lynch.

     I press the button on the side of the cylinder, a small red one, to talk. “Commander, you need to get up here now. Bring the other scientists and come quickly.”

     She doesn’t respond.

     I am waiting for the HeliCraft when it lands on the platform just outside the watchtower. Before the rotors have even stopped turning, Aubree jumps out of the passenger area, out of her laboratory clothes and now just in jeans and a tank top. She runs up to me as Lynch, Maura, and Shawn exit the vehicle as well.

     “Oh my gosh,” she exclaims, out of breath, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

     I don’t speak, I just give her a glum look. Her face looks panicked.

     “There you are, fattie,” growls Lynch, walking over to me in full armor with her helmet tucked under her arm, “Needed attention so soon?”

     “Commander, this is desperate, come here,” I say, gesturing for them to follow me into the watchtower.

     When we enter the room, all of them immediately see the body. Aubree gasps, Shawn’s eyes widen, Maura cups her hand over her mouth, and Lynch just frowns.

     “Oh my goodness,” says Maura, her jaw agape, “How did this happen? WHEN did this happen?”

     “I was going to ask you,” I respond, grimly, “Did you release him?”

     She shakes her head faintly.

     “Why on Prominence would he hang himself?” asks Shawn, confused, “I mean, he was a little crazy, but did he need to die from the watchtower?”

     Aubree grabs my arm and hangs on, as if for dear life.

     “Romulo, have you told anyone else about this?” inquires Lynch coldly.

     “No.”

     “What the hell does ‘They’re coming’ mean?” she asks.

     “Commander, I have no idea, but I suggest immediate evacuation. We aren’t safe, here, mam, no one is.”

     She just turns to look at me like I am insane.

     “You’re insane,” she concludes, “Since when did you have the right to give me orders?”

     Big mistake. I’m dead.

     “John, there is no proof that we are in any danger whatsoever. You’ve been on my nerves today, and you keep spreading rumors that we aren’t alone on this planet. And now I’m starting to think that the prison block might be the best place for you at this point.”

     She scowls.

     “Commander, please, just hear me out—”

     “No,” she interrupts, “You are gonna shut your soon-to-be-fat lips and go down to your quarters. We know nothing about any threats right now and if you keep pretending that we do, I will eject you from the outpost.”

     She stares down at Dr. Hughes’ remains.

     “Good riddance,” she finishes.

     Before we can even leave or I can interject, my communications device turns on, and an unfamiliar voice comes over the speaker.

     “Commander, come in, we have a problem in the heating and cooling room.”

     Lynch looks suddenly concerned.

     “Outta my way,” she snaps, rushing over to the HeliCraft. She leaps into the cockpit and fires up the rotors, as the rest of us rush into the passenger area.

    

     The heating and cooling rooms are like an engine room on a ship; hot, full of pipes and wiring, and filled with pale blue light. Lynch leads the way through the maze of piping, walking so fast she might break into a sprint at any second. The room is cramped, and the ceiling is low, so I have to duck to avoid having my head taken off.

     “What’s the issue here?” inquires the Commander, when we find the worker, who stands next to a giant hole in the wall. He doesn’t even answer; it’s self-explanatory.

     “Commander,” he begins, rising to his feet and wiping away the sweat from his brow, “Something came through here. It busted some of the pipes and escaped before anyone could get a look at it.”

     The light from outside streams in through the torn metal. I can see the waves below; we are on the bottom level of the outpost. And there is evidence of what the worker says. A few pipes nearby are busted open and spraying steam out, and I notice dents in the floor, like footprints.

     “Wait, wait, wait,” says Lynch, “You said something. What do you mean? Is there something on this planet that isn’t human?”

     “Well, mam, I don’t know,” he says, “I’m no scientist, but no human could rip a hole through the wall that big. And I don’t even know why that thing was down here; why would it need pipes?”

     I can get a better look at the worker now. He is young, in his early twenties, with a round face and dark brown hair. His skin is pale, probably from fear and confusion. He is masking his shivering as well as he can, but I notice that his hand shakes as he talks.

     Lynch whips around and glares at me. Her gaze is so piercing that I almost stumble backwards. Maura, Aubree, and Shawn stand at attention next to me, silent.

     “YOU,” the Commander snaps, “You are not gonna tell ANYONE about this, you understand? Same goes for you three.”

     She shoves past us and begins to walk back up the network of pipes towards the exit. Her boots clank on the metal floor, and she almost bumps her head a few times.

     “Wait,” I interject, confused, stopping her in her tracks before she can get too far or turn a corner, “What are you gonna do about this?”

     “I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” she says, angrily, marching back towards us a little, “I’m gonna keep this quiet. I’m gonna have this damage repaired and I’m gonna pretend like Dr. Hughes fell off the outpost ledge. We’ll hold a burial at sea for him and no one will know about anything that has happened over the past few hours. Understood?”

     My jaw falls open. She can’t just cover it up.

     “What?” I ask, shocked, “You’re just gonna pretend it never happened? Well, Lynch, let me set the record straight: it DID happen, and right now, we are sitting ducks, waiting to be destroyed by whatever lives on this ‘God-forsaken space rock.’”

     I immediately regret saying that, because Lynch almost breathes fire out of her nose.

     “Alright, you wanna play the defiant way, that’s fine,” she hisses, looming over me like a skyscraper, “Here’s how I’M gonna play: I’m gonna have you and your scientist friends taken to the prison block, and I will put you in a soundproof cell. You will remain silent until I find out what to do with you, whether I drop you into the sea or have you taken by the military out into space.”

     I tremble. She breathes.

     “Is that enough for you?”

     And then, it isn’t ME who snaps, it’s Aubree.

     “Ok, Kassandra, you are NOT going to do this to us! You are putting our lives at risk by choosing to ignore the fact that we are dead meat to some aliens that are coming to kill us all or take the base or both, and you want to pretend that no evidence of this exists and just SIT HERE?” She fumes and breathes heavily, and then Lynch just twitches with anger.

     “Alright,” she says softly, “I won’t show any mercy.”

     She then leaps forward and grabs Aubree by the arm and flings her into a dangerous position, just above the hole in the wall. Threatening to drop her into the sea at any point, she keeps Shawn, Maura, and I at bay.

     “Now,” begins the Commander, “You wanna listen now?”

     Aubree gasps and holds her breath, but then something else happens that catches everyone off guard.

     “Commander Kassandra J. Lynch, I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” interrupts a voice, and I turn around to see Jack Baines walking into the light, in a uniform that doesn’t look like that of a scientist. He’s wearing military garb. “Commander, I am sorry, but you are relieved of duty.”

     Lynch just looks confused. EVERYONE looks confused.

     “I’m sorry?” she asks.

     “Hang on, we’ve never been formally introduced,” he says, “My name is Admiral Jack Baines, I’m pretty much your boss, and you’re gonna do what I say.”

     My jaw drops, and so does Shawn’s. We exchange glances.

     Lynch is just stunned. She tosses Aubree out of the way, onto the floor.

     “Sorry, let me rephrase that,” pipes Jack, “You. Are. Fired. I am in charge now. And I think that John is right.”

     I smile. We are saved.

     Lynch is just confused, but she takes a moment to take in his uniform: black, sleek, shiny, with gold stripes and the insignia on his chest. He wins.

     “Ok,” she says, twitching in anger, “I’ll just…get out of your way.”

     And without another word, she just walks past him and leaves. I rush over to Aubree and help her up off the floor. Then we all realize that we should be at attention.

     We salute him, and he just rolls his eyes.

     “Oh, at ease,” he says, “Now get down to the armory and pick yourself out a weapon. We’ve got aliens on the way.”

     Too surprised to say anything, we all just nod.

     “In other words,” he says, kindly but firmly, “Prepare for battle.”

     “ALL SOLDIERS ON DECK. THIS IS A CODE RED WARNING. PREPARE FOR BATTLE.”

     The sounds of Jack shouting commands over the loudspeakers is barely audible over the bustle and the clamor of Olympus. Soldiers, not breaking their rule of marching in squads of six, rush around the walkways, and the armory is filled with miscellaneous people, looking for a defense. Scientists, soldiers, pilots, engineers, maintenance workers, all are vigilant as we man our stations.

     I rush into the armory, a small room with gun racks covering every inch of wall and an overhead glowing blue light illuminating our pallid faces. Scanning the weaponry with my eyes, I make out a pistol that looks inviting. I don’t suspect to be doing much fighting, more solving. Solving the mystery of WHERE these things are coming from.

     The gun is comfortable in my hand, made of a shiny light metal. It glints blue under the light, and I read the inscription on the slide:

     GREYWOLF—MODEL No. 69784

     Greywolf; when I read the word the sounds around me fade for a just a moment and I think I can hear a sound…a soft, distant, eerie…HOWL.

     “Greywolf, huh?” says a voice, interrupting my thoughts. I snap myself back to reality and turn to see Aubree standing next to me. Her armor is back on; colored a dark gray with some blue camouflage designs. She looks almost like a cyborg with a pixie cut.

     “What?” I ask, confused. Then I glance at my gun. “Oh, uh, yeah. Looks like a simple enough gun to fire; I’ve never been apt with these kinds of weapons.”

     “Really?” she inquires, a smug expression on her face, “I thought you were present on Colossus-487 during the bio-engineering war. If I did my homework correctly, all the scientists working for the company were stationed in City 26, which was invaded by a mass force of Thanamorphs.”

     I shake my head. “No, they got me out of there just before the creatures reached my building.”

     “Oh,” she says, a little deflated, “Well, in that case, you’d better avoid fighting aliens.”

     I smile and nod.

     “So, what gun are you using?” I ask.

     “One of THESE,” she responds, lifting a large, heavy-looking assault rifle up and placing the butt of it on her knee. It points up at the ceiling and I almost shiver at the fact that it’s about as tall as her torso.

     I stick my gun underneath my waistband. I realize that I’m wearing a basic white t-shirt and jeans; I need to put some armor on.

     “Alright, I need to get ready,” I whisper, half talking to myself, “I’ll see you soon. Good luck out there.”

     She stops me as I walk past.

     “Do you think we’re right?” she inquires, in my ear, her voice low, “I mean, do you think that there actually IS life on this planet?”

     I grab her arm and look her straight in the eyes, serious.

     “I don’t know,” I respond, and her face looks a bit uncertain. “But I don’t want to take the risk of being wrong.”

     And with that, I leave her and rush out the door.

     The top deck of the outpost feels cold. The ocean breeze of Prominence flies past my face, sending a chill down my spine, despite the fact that I’m in full body armor. My plating is heavy, and yet comfortable, fitting nicely on my form. It’s colored black with a few gold patches.

     The air is silent. Most of the soldiers, who have lined up at the edges of the circular platform, are quiet and watchful, some gazing out over the water, others checking small devices attached to their guns that scan for movement.

     When I have reached the top of the ramp that leads to the upper deck, my eyes immediately find Commander Lynch standing with her back to me. She is alone and quiet, watching the sea. Her hands are folded behind her back, and she is still in her armor.

     “Have you come to gloat?” she inquires softly, when I am right next to her. She doesn’t even glance at me. “I feel the need to remind you that I may have been overthrown, but I am still your superior officer.”

     I don’t answer. I just follow her gaze out to sea.

     “The fact that these men will have to face battle,” she continues, quietly and strangely kindly, “Is horrible to me. And the fact that you have caused them all to feel a certain fear in their hearts because of some feeble evidence of other life, well, it kinda makes me want to punch you in the face.”

     She turns her head and glances over at me. I don’t speak; I can tell by her tone that she wants me to leave. Thus, I spin around silently and hurry back down to the second level.

     “Atta boy,” she says, as I exit the area.

     The laboratory is filled with a strange silence that hangs in the atmosphere. The blue lights hanging overhead flicker slightly. The soft hum of the cryo-beds is soothing but eerie. Maura stands over her sleeping test subjects and watches them, punching her observations into the glowing green screen of her device. Aubree sits, her gun on her knee, over at her table.

     “Maura, shouldn’t you be finding a weapon or getting into armor?” I ask her, concerned. She can’t survive in a lab coat, jeans, and a red sweater.

     She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m not gonna fight. As soon as these test subjects wake up, I’m gonna help them into an evacuation submarine to get out of here and make it to a safe place for a HeliCraft to come and get us.”

     I process this for a minute, but then something dawns on me.

     “Maura, none of us have been under the surface of that ocean; we know NOTHING about what could be down there.”

     “Yeah, but we also know NOTHING about this planet.”

     “Oh, no Maura, you can’t, you could be killed.”

     She turns off her tablet and glances up at me. “Look, here’s the deal, John: you’re standing on WEAK evidence that we are about to be attacked by aliens and also some weak evidence that you are even SANE, so if you want to judge us for our decisions, that’s fine, but we won’t listen.”

     Then she goes back to her device.

     “But…whose idea was it to use the evacuation subs?” I ask frantically.

     “Shawn’s,” Aubree responds, calmly, “He’s down there right now, helping the people from the medical bay into the vehicles.”

     Panicked and frightened and yet conscious that Maura has a very good point, I quickly glance around the room and find a radio. Slamming my thumb into the buttons that call the submarine hangar, I listen until the static is pushed away by Shawn’s voice.

     “Hello?”

     “Yeah, Shawn, it’s John. What are you thinking? You don’t know what could be lurking beneath those waves.”

     “John, don’t even bother,” he says, “Just leave it. You have little proof that we even are under attack, so just get off our backs and worry about actually defending this place. I’m just taking the people that can’t fight.”

     Frustrated but unable to do anything, I turn the radio off and look up at Aubree and Maura.

     “You know what, whatever,” I snap, “But don’t be upset with me if they don’t survive this.”

     Before anyone can speak, an alarm coming from the cryo-bed control panel next to Maura comes to life. She glances at the monitor, confused.

     “They’re waking up,” she informs us, “But they aren’t supposed to.”

     The glass lids of the cryo-beds simultaneously swing open, and the test subjects, all nine of them, sit up in bed with a start. They are soaked with sweat and their eyes are wide with fear.

     “They’re coming,” whispers one of them, a young man, “CAN YOU HEAR THE WOLVES HOWLING?”

     I look at Aubree, who is on her feet and nervous now, and Maura, who is confused as ever. My heart pounds faster than is probably humanly safe.

     The door to the laboratory slides open, and a soldier rushes in, his face rigid.

     “We’ve got movement,” he gasps, out of breath.

     On the upper deck, the entirety of the people inside the outpost rush over to one side of the platform, staring out at the ocean. I struggle to push past them and see what we all see; the thing that is moving in the distance.

     The thing that is getting closer.

     “What is that?” asks a soldier.

     “Is that thing…FLYING?” inquires another voice.

     The people, all in full armor and with various guns, emanate a nervous and frightened aura that I can feel.

     “Ladies and gentlemen,” I say, talking over their frightened whispers, “Whatever happens now, do not be afraid.”

     They stand in hushed silence as I turn to look at them, the evening sun sinking lower in the sky behind me.

     “ALRIGHT, uglies and fatties, man your battle stations!” hollers Commander Lynch, standing in the back. The soldiers immediately rush back into their squads of six, their guns on their shoulders. “We’ve got a battle win, some aliens to kill, and for GOD’S SAKE, please don’t piss in your armor!”

     Aubree walks up behind me.

     “Say, I never asked: have you had any training in battle?” I ask her, not breaking my gaze on the thing in the distance.

     “Nope,” she responds quietly, “But at least I know how to use a gun.”

     I glance at her, because this may be the last time I do.

     “Look, whatever happens,” I say, “We will be ok.”

     Before she can say anything, Lynch grabs each of us by the shoulders and forces us to look her in the eyes.

     “Alright, Puppy Eyes and Corpse-Molester, get ready for battle; I don’t want any making-out on my upper deck, are we clear?” She glances at me, with an almost apologetic look, “But maybe I don’t have to worry about that, because Romulo would rather hump someone’s ashes than kiss a human.”

     I roll my eyes, and I notice Aubree awkwardly scoot away from me just a few inches.

     Then a shriek, a loud, howling, eerie shriek sounds across the ocean surface. I whip around and see a giant dragon creature swoop overhead, its wings stretched out like sails and its sharp teeth bared. Its skin is gray with a blue glow in its eyes, and it casts a dark shadow over the outpost that sends such a chill down my spine I can barely keep standing.

     “LOOK OUT!” shouts a soldier, and a few others turn and fire their weapons at the beast, which barely has any effect.

     “Let it begin,” I whisper to myself, in paralyzing fear but almost in awe of the alien dragon, “The wolves are howling.”

     The creature, its spine-covered tail whipping through the air, dives down towards the ocean and disappears from my view. Several troopers rush over to the edge of the platform and fire down towards it, and I hear a couple of wolf-like screeches from the creature.

     Then another scream sounds, and this time, it’s human.

     I everyone whips around to find the source of the blood-curdling sound. A female soldier, her gun on the ground, a pool of blood forming at her feet. She stands staring into the eyes of an alien, a long, rusted blade stuck through her stomach.

     For a minute we are frozen in shock. The alien is tall, probably about seven feet, with gray skin and cold blue tattoo-like markings on its muscular biceps. Its skin is rough and scaly in some places, and its muscles stick out, almost as if the creature were on steroids. Its neck is hunched over, holding up the large and skeletal head with which it sees and breathes. Its skull is sharp and warped. The alien’s four cold eyes stare deep into the dead ones of the girl. Then its mouth peels back into four rows of horrible, sharp, nasty teeth, and it lets out a hiss so repulsive I drop my weapon and throw my hands up over my ears.

     Then chaos ensues.

     “THEY’RE HERE!” hollers Lynch, and the soldiers begin to fire, as several more aliens drop down from the watchtowers. The Commander continues to bark out orders. “BE ON YOUR GUARD! FIRE AT WILL! WATCH YOUR BACK AND WATCH THE SKIES!”

     I hear gunshots and snarling aliens and a few screams, but I don’t look. I run, ducking whenever I hear a shot, towards the dead girl on the ground. The alien that killed her has been shot so many times its face is almost gone, and it lies next to her. I am, after all, a forensic scientist; I work well with dead people.

     I lift the lightweight female soldier into my arms and carry her down the ramp, keeping out of the way of anyone. Only a few aliens have arrived, but I still don’t feel safe.

     When I have reached the second level, I run with the girl in my arms towards the laboratory door. I can hear as the gunshots dwindle; it sounds like the first wave of aliens has passed. I have to find out all I can about these creatures before the next wave comes. And I know that more are coming because any group that small would think twice before attacking a military force of Olympus’ size.

     The lab is empty; Maura must have evacuated with the test subjects. I clamber down the steps and charge over to Aubree’s experimenting table. The dead soldier drips blood on the floor. I shove some of the beakers and testing tubes out of the way to make room for her.

     “Oh, my gosh, what ARE these things?” I ask myself as I frantically strip away the armor plating on the girl. I notice that her nameplate, just beneath her collarbone, says “BROOKE HARPER.”

     “Alright, Brooke,” I say, talking to the dead, “Time to find out what stabbed you.”

     I grab some latex gloves out of a box nearby and put them on. As I tear away some more layers of clothing to reach the wound in her stomach, my mind wanders to what could have become of the evacuation submarines. They could be dead by now. Or they could be well on their way to safety in a HeliCraft. Either way, they are gone, and I’m stuck here, on this outpost, forced to fight aliens straight from the recesses of hell.

     Beneath the two layers of armor, the plating and the jumpsuit, Brooke wears a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Although, the shirt is practically red now, covered in blood, like the two metal dog tags that hang from her neck. She is the first to die in battle.

     I push the shirt out of the way and use a magnifying glass to examine the wound. It looks normal; nothing special about the blade that pierced her, but that doesn’t stop me. I pick a blood sampler from a first aid kit on the table and extract some blood. Then I stick the needle into a device that reads the DNA that is attached to the table and it takes a minute to process. Then a 3D diagram of the double helix pops up, a on a tiny monitor, and then I see it: the mix of human and alien blood.

     A scan of information sends data popping up next to the image.

SPECIES: UNKNOWN

     That isn’t good enough. I need to know how to BEAT them.

     I smack the reader a few times, because sometimes that helps. It doesn’t.

     “Oh, c’mon, WORK WITH ME HERE!” I say, a little too loudly.

     I need to get back up on deck. This isn’t helping me. But these aliens, whatever they are, have never been discovered before.

     I hear more gunshots now, and screaming, and a lot more of it, too. I rip the gloves off of my hands and rush up the stairs, the door sliding open rapidly. But then I immediately regret that it did, because my eyes see nothing but war.

     Aliens and humans, battling it out, everywhere. On the walkways, in the rooms. Doors are blown off their hinges. Dead bodies litter the floor. Bullets and lasers whiz by my head, and shouts and screams echo throughout the outpost. I slam the button and the door closes again, stranding me in muffled silence.

     The radio down on the table crackles to life, and Aubree’s voice shouts fearful cries for help.

     “JOHN! JOHN! PLEASE, CAN YOU HEAR ME! PLEASE, WE NEED HELP!”

     I tumble down the steps and press the respond button.   

     “Oh my gosh, yes, Aubree, it’s me,” I pant, “What is it? What do you need?”

     “John, they’re everywhere,” she says, quieter now, and I hear her grunt and then fire a few gunshots. An alien snarls and roars. “Please, do you have any ideas?”

     “Should I come out and help?”

     “NO! Stay there! I need someone who can survive!”

     I nod to myself. “Ok,” I respond, daunted but ready, “What’s happening?”

     “We’re retreating to the second level; they’re coming too fast and too quickly. John, please, help!”

     “Ok, ok, hang on, I’m thinking…”

     I rack my brain frantically, thinking of different ideas.

     “Um,” I say, “What do you know about them?”

     “Uh, they’re tall, strong, fast, they carry big, rusted swords, and they are hard to kill.”

     “What happened to the dragon thing?”

     “There are TEN OF THEM!”

     This makes me tremble.

     “WHAT?” I shout, “WHERE ARE ALL OF THESE THINGS COMING FROM?”

     “I DON’T KNOW! They aren’t falling from the sky, and there’s no way they could make it from the continent next to us to the outpost!”

     Then it hits me. The OCEAN.

     “AW, YES, THAT’S IT!” I holler into the radio, “Oh, Aubree, you are brilliant, you are. But I need your help. Get down here and don’t get—”

     I hear her scream and then moan in pain.

     “—Hurt.”

     Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.

     “Never mind, just hold on, I’m coming for you!”

     I yank my pistol out of my holster and cock it, running up the stairs and leaping out onto the walkway. The first thing that I see is an alien, as it stabs a soldier through the heart and then turns to face me, running towards me with its hundreds of fangs bared. I close my eyes in horror and pull the trigger.

     Then I hear the alien fall with a thump to the floor, and I open my eyes to see a bullet wound in its head.

     “Huh,” I remark to myself, “Not bad for a scientist.”

     “JOHN!” shouts Commander Lynch, and I spin on my heel to find her just a few yards away, fighting off aliens. Aubree is at her feet, a gaping wound in her leg. “ROMULO, GET YOUR DEATH-LOVING BUTT OVER HERE AND GET AUBREE TO SAFETY!”

     Luckily, there are no creatures between me and the wounded nuclear scientist, just dead bodies. I rush over and swing Aubree up into a fireman’s carry, then turning back to head to the laboratory.

    

     Back inside the safety of the lab, I carry Aubree to a cryo-bed and lie her down inside it.

     “John, no, I’m fine, just please, I can help,” she pleads.

     “Oh, no, you aren’t. You sit right there and talk to me while I work.”

     She gives in and lies down.

     “Do you have a plan?” she asks, as I frantically rush over to Brooke’s dead body and lift it off the table and into another cryo-bed.

     “A plan? Yes, I do, but I need you to trust me.”

     She nods.

     “Good. Now, you’re a nuclear physicist, tell me, do you happen to have any nuclear waste lying around?”

     “Uh,” she says, “Yeah. Look under my work table. See those containers? I use those to store leftover, potentially dangerous chemicals.”

     “Awesome,” I let out, and then I yank one of them out from under the table, dragging it over to Shawn’s table, which is covered with weapons and small missiles.

     “What are you doing?” she asks weakly.

     “These creatures are coming out of the sea,” I inform her, “It’s their home. It all makes sense; their swords are rusted, which means they must have been made underwater. And if they aren’t coming from land or sky, they’re coming from the ocean.”

     “So, you’re going to poison their home with nuclear waste to wipe them out.”

     “Yeah, pretty much.”

     I open the waste container, using the valve on the top. It hisses as it releases pressure.

     “So, why are these things even attacking us?” she asks.

     “Probably to guard their territory. Isn’t that what all aliens want?”

     She doesn’t respond. I take the empty shell of a bomb, a black metal cylinder with a lid, and pour the green waste into it.

     “When this bomb hits the surface of the water, it’ll burst,” I say aloud, to no one in particular, “Thus spreading the nuclear waste throughout the water.”

     “You know this will be on your conscious for the rest of your life,” she says randomly, “How you committed genocide.”

     “Genocide?” I ask, turning to face her. Her eyes look weak and her skin is paler than usual. “I’m not committing genocide, I’m committing counter-genocide. These aliens want aggressive? I’ll give them aggressive.”

     I seal up the bomb and kick the empty waste container out of the way.

     “How are you going to get the bomb out there without being stabbed or shot?” she inquires, her voice fading.

     “Well, now that I think of it, I’m glad that Dr. Hughes dropped Marthus into the sea,” I say, “Because he showed me where his secret trapdoor is.”

     I rush over to the bright red button on the wall. Aubree sits up in the cryo-bed. As soon as I slam my fist into the button, the trapdoor swings open, revealing the crashing waves far below. I see several bodies from the upper deck fall down into the sea, and hundreds of aliens crawl up the spires towards Olympus.

     “Oh, you brilliant genocidal man, you,” Aubree says. “Millions of space explorers are gonna look upon this day as the day that John Romulus saved the humans on Prominence.”

     “Well,” I interject, “This day isn’t over yet.”

     And with that, I let go of the bomb and watch it plummet down into the sea. It explodes, and the aliens on the spires all hiss and howl and shriek, as their home is infected.

     I hit the button and the trapdoor closes.

     “Well, that’s that,” I say cheerfully, but that mood goes away when I see Aubree. She lies in the bed, blood gushing from her leg wound. She drools slightly and she is motionless.

     I rush over to her, grabbing head in my arms. She is losing consciousness.

     “Oh no, Aubree, no, don’t YOU die, too,” I whisper, and she struggles to breathe.

     The outpost begins to shake, and the door to the laboratory slides open. Lynch stumbles into the room.

     “John, I don’t know what dead body you were making love to this time, but, WOW, did it send those suckers away! And we have reinforcements; they’re finishing the creatures off.”

     I look up at her and ignore her comments.

     “But one thing: the alien dragons destroyed the supports to the outpost. We need to get out of here NOW.” She then turns and leaves.

     Aubree gasps and a small bit of blood comes from her mouth.

     “No, no, no, don’t die, please, no…” I struggle to find words as she fades.

     “John, I can’t…” She does, too.

     “Can’t what? You need medical attention!”

     The laboratory begins to shake more violently, and the things on the floor slide towards the wall.

     I need to save her, but she won’t make it to a doctor in time. There’s only one way.

     A tear falls from my eye, and I realize what I have to do to keep her alive.

     “Aubree, you will hate me for this, but I have to save you,” I tell her.

     “What…JOHN? What are you doing?” she musters her final bits of energy.

     “I can’t get you to a doctor in time, but these cryo-beds are designed to keep their occupants alive.”

     She begins to realize it, too. Her eyes widen.

     “Aubree, as long as you’re in here, you’ll be safe. This outpost was designed to hold its structure and be watertight, should it fall into the sea.” More tears well up in my eyes, and I stroke her hair to keep her calm.

     “No, John, please…” she begins to cry, as well.

     I stand up and grab the lid of the cryo-bed, leaning in to whisper one last thing I her ear.

     “I’ll come back for you,” I say, “I promise.”

     And with that, I swing the glass lid shut, and the life support systems kick in. She screams at me and pounds on the glass.

     “Goodbye Aubree,” I sniff, “I’ll see you soon.”

     I run up the steps, leaving her as she plunges into unconsciousness and the cryo-bed keeps her alive. Olympus shakes harder and harder.

     When I reach the upper deck, I see about five HeliCrafts sitting nearby, their rotors starting up. People jump into the passenger areas and hang on for dear life as the outpost crumbles. I run towards one of the vehicles and jump into it, sitting in an empty seat and grasping the handles as the craft lifts off the upper deck and flies away, up towards the sky and beyond.

     I watch as Olympus falls, plummeting down into the sea and taking Aubree with it. Its five sections break apart from one another and hit the ocean, and the tops of the spire break and shatter as well, destroying any evidence of humans that once lived here. The HeliCrafts have made it out safely and fly in a convoy towards the starships above us when the last of the outpost is submerged.

     “I’ll come back for you,” I whisper again, hoping that somehow, Aubree will hear me.

     I turn to look at the others in the passenger area. Lynch is opposite me, breathing heavily with damage done to her armor. Next to her sits Marthus, who is awake and well again; he holds a pistol in his right hand. Next to him is Jack, who looks at me and nods in a silent message.

     Shawn is next to me, and he smiles lightly in my direction; he made it out of the ocean. And next to him is Maura, who shuts her eyes and rests peacefully.

     “Well,” says Lynch, nodding, “The wolves are howling no more.”

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Hope you enjoyed it! Happy Easter!

c. Taylor Ward 2013. All rights reserved.