Awakening

The soft hum of machinery was the first thing he heard; he blinked slowly as he removed his face from the cold steel floor, rubbing his eyes. He sat up, leaning against the wall behind him. Opening them slowly only to blackness, panic quickly rose in his chest- however, once fuzzy outlines began fading into place and his vision soon reset itself, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He could see, that was always good. Blinking again as he looked around, he raised an eyebrow. “Where… Am I?” Sighing slightly as he pushed himself off the wall, he reached his feet and looked around. Even through the pounding of his head he could vaguely make out the basic layout of the room; white/chrome pods lined the walls, all empty and closed save the one behind him. This one was empty and open… Was it his? He lay his hand on the cool titanium-alloy frame, closing it quietly. The marks on his arm suggested he had indeed been hooked up to those tubes dangling within. A phrase drifted through his befuddled mind; suspended animation. This was a stasis pod, designed specifically to slow down human metabolism enough to let the person hooked up inside to live for theoretically hundreds of years in a state of extreme hibernation.



“Hold up. How do I know that?” He asked the empty hallway, frowning as he heard the door hiss sealed. The only answer that came to his mind was, “Well, everybody knows that.” Speaking of everybody, he thought silently as he limped- he was incredibly sore- to the doorway, “Where is everybody?” The silence filled the room so completely it seemed to even dampen the noises he could hear; the hum of background engines, his own breathing, it all seemed distant. Like part of a dream he was still trying to wake up from…



He shook his head wearily as he fumbled his way down the hall. He couldn’t remember anything, even though he knew what everything was. He was on a ship- not just a ship. A colony ship, the United Earth System Ship Columbus. One of three First-Class Colonial Cruisers. He was… Important to the ship, somehow. He was… Something. Helping people was his job… No, not helping. Not exactly… Healing. He was a healer? “Doctor,” he whispered, recalling. Medical Sergeant. He was in the military- yes, he was in uniform even now. Why didn’t he have his gun?



“Doctors don’t carry guns,” he muttered absurdly to himself, shaking his head. “It’d defeat the whole purpose.” On some level he knew this was wrong; but the lie slipped past his dazed and confused mind. Sighing as he continued, he suddenly wondered; what was his name? Medical Sgt. Andrew McClain. That was what the silvery pin across his chest said quite clearly. He shook his head again; he didn’t remember any of that. He did, however, spot a small terminal on the other end of the hall. The glowing screen somehow stood out amongst the artificial lights from the ceiling and walls; he pushed against the desire to take a nap and shambled his way to the holographic projection screen.



As he approached, the screen lit up brighter, raising slightly from the wall and suspending itself in the air. “Hello, Medical Sergeant Andrew McClain,” a perfectly automated female voice said, her voice robotically melodious. Clearing his throat anxiously, he pressed his hand against the blue hand outline prompt for a scan confirming his identity.



“Identity confirmed,” the robot lady stated very matter-of-factly as the blue grid completed the scan of his palm. His arm dropped to his side as he watched the screen pull up the voice command menu.



“Access personal records,” Sgt. McClain stated rather calmly, not revealing how tense the moment actually felt. He was about to find out who he really was, learn about his life from some computer screen he’d never seen before as far as he knew. But the earnest voice calmed his frayed nerves to keep him still enough to read as the screen pulled up his life so far.



“Voice pattern recognized,” the robo-lady responded gently, following orders and bringing up the requested information.



“Medical Sergeant Andrew McClain,” he read aloud, frowning slightly as he felt his lip warm up slightly. “Born 2543…” He wiped his mouth off, feeling moisture on his lips. Glancing at his fingertips, he saw the fresh warm blood he’d wiped from his nosebleed. Deliberately ignoring this, he turned back to his life.



The temporary silence caused the computer to begin reading aloud for him. “Origin; Earth, New American Province. Sector 14, designated medical studies. Assigned to the United Earth System ship, modified Civilian Freighter Class-One Colonial Cruiser, Columbus. Volunteer for Project: Exodus…”



Project: Exodus. Mankind’s last hope for survival… Running away. McClain would have appreciated the irony a little more if he hadn’t been sinking to his knees, blue spots invading and blacking out his vision. As the world faded to black, he could see another world rushing into view.



“Look, it’s not like we can go back or anything. Nothing to go back to. Just us, hundreds of light years of empty space, and a hospitable planet just waiting for us on the other side of nothingness. So if you’re really that bored that you’ve got to bother me… Well, I suggest you find something else to entertain you.” That was the ship’s head chef berating one of the children assigned to enter the stasis pods. They’d be held in suspended animation, all the while having information directly programmed into their brain via a transmitter of a similar frequency, learning all the tricks of their particular trade. There were fourteen children, fifteen cooks total including the head chef. Not a lot, considering the hundred thousand some odd people on the ship; mostly civilians of some form of importance to maintaining society, be it doctors, engineers, lawyers, or even janitors. A little bit of everything was kind of tossed in here at the last second.



They’d lied to the passengers, saying that they’d hand-picked the ‘best of the best.’ They’d really only cobbled together what they could at the last possible second before launching them all into deep space; only a third or even less had any sort of formal zero-g training, making the first half hour while the Artificial Gravitational Generation Engine warmed up very interesting. A hundred thousand or so weightless bodies all struggling to find their assigned stasis pods or posts was an amusing sight to see for Sgt. McClain as he went over the infirmary’s inventory for the thousandth time.



It would have been a much more enjoyable moment if the thought of what would soon be behind them wasn’t looming in all their thoughts. The three Colonial Cruisers- three Civilian Freighters jerry-rigged for deep-space travel and given a few added rockets and stasis pods- were humanity’s last hope for survival. The Earth was doomed; the sun was expanding much more rapidly than anyone could have predicted. By the year 2920 it was predicted that the entire planet would become uninhabitable simply because of the proximity to the sun; by 3000 the planet would literally be enveloped by the expanding gas, and incinerated more or less instantly. So in 2580, when McClain was 35 years old, they left Earth for good. All three of them- the United Earth System ships Ferdinand, Isabella, and Columbus set sail into the great unknown. And in 2731, when McClain was 186, they crash landed right into the great unknown.



The crash itself was agonizingly slow. Nothing seemed to be wrong at all; McClain had just been woken up for his third two-year shift, and was heading towards debriefing, when suddenly the ship jerked wildly back. No, that wasn’t right- it had suddenly stopped moving. Then the backing up began, as the massive ship tilted at an awkward angle onto its side and rolled over in space. The Artificial Gravitational Generator Engine had a hell of a time trying to keep up with the ship’s sporadic movements, the massive gyroscope slipping suddenly and sending the whole ship spiraling. That’s when the planet came into view; what a planet was doing way out here, in the middle of literally nowhere, was a mystery all on its own. The ship descended towards the planet slowly; that was the only option they had, really. What else could they do, follow the mysterious space-currents and let themselves be dragged off-course? The only thing that had that sort of affect on anything this deep into space was a black hole, they said. They were right, of course- nothing else could possibly have shaken the ship like that. They were lucky to be alive, let alone on any kind of planet.



As they entered orbit, another mystery was discovered. The visible half of the planet seemed to be covered in clouds. Hint of a breathable atmosphere, perhaps. Drones were sent out as the ship began the nearly seventy-two hour descent onto the planet’s surface. They were back before the ship had even broken the cloud level- a good thing too, seeing as they weren’t clouds at all, but actually living organisms. Massive groups of hovering gelatinous creatures swarmed the entire side of the planet that was facing the nearest star. Immediately the scientists were abuzz; they must have evolved to fit this completely stationary environment by feeding off of literally whatever they could- in this case, the rays of the star.



McClain had the evening news on the holovision as he ate dinner quietly, alone in his private quarters. They were contacting scientists, asking to explain to everyone the mysterious planet and the creatures above them. He heard some nonsense about being trapped in two orbits, between a star and a black hole- supposedly why the planet literally never moved- and the fact that there was no ozone shouldn’t be a problem, with those things flying around up there soaking up the rays for them. So despite landing on a planet other than what they had planned, everything was just fine.



McClain coughed suddenly, gasping for breath as he lurched upward. His eyes shot open, mind racing. What had just happened? He’d recently gotten out of stasis for… What? Were they at the colony already? No, there would have been some sort of announcement. And he wouldn’t have passed out here in the middle of the hall just outside stasis storage. Or at least, he wouldn’t still be here- someone would have helped him. No, he remembered getting out of his stasis pod. Wandering down the hallway- had he really forgotten who he was? He must have, as he still hadn’t the slightest idea what had happened after the first day or two of landing. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing flakes of dry blood from his chin.



“Oh man,” he moaned, leaning back and gripping his temple. “My head… Killing me.” The grunts continued as he inched his way to the infirmary, his workstation, in the hopes of finding some form of painkiller. No such luck, the entire medical bay was devoid of anything. Not a single scalpel, not so much as a band-aid lying around. Grunting unintelligibly as he made his way for the intercom located on the far wall, he pushed his way past the empty examination table and the blank chrome counters. He finally arrived at the wall that hosted the intercom- a small holographic screen with a menu of locations he was authorized to broadcast to. The emergency override switch was blinking- he was technically cleared to broadcast ship-wide. As he reached for that selection… He stopped himself.



Yes, it was true that he hadn’t seen anyone yet. But he’d only been through the Stasis Pod Storage Hall and straight to the infirmary. True, he should have seen SOMEONE around, but it wasn’t as though he’d scoured the ship thoroughly looking for people. If he began broadcasting ship-wide, not only would people think he was just a little crazy- a doctor’s reputation was pretty important- he could actually get in a lot of trouble, despite the computer giving him the option to do it. Shaking his head, he selected the Bridge and connected directly. “Come in, anyone?” He asked, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice in the case that someone was indeed listening. “I repeat, come in. This is Medical Sgt. Andrew McClain. I’m located in the infirmary and…” He paused, frowning. What, exactly, was the problem? Yes, there was no one around that he’d seen so far. Yes, he’d been woken… But was it his shift? He opened a new screen to the side of the intercom terminal, opening his personal file again.



His next scheduled shift was forty years ago.



“I’ve been woken forty years late,” he grumbled into the intercom. That’d explain the memory loss- too long in stasis was proven to have several negative effects on the body and mind. His had deteriorated to the point where he couldn’t remember anything; his muscles were still sore, which he now suspected was mostly from atrophying.



Pausing as he waited for a response from the Bridge, he looked at the terminal again. A pretty solid video link had been established, but the other screen showed an empty room behind it. “Damn it,” he muttered quietly, closing the link. “Computer. Open three new video links- Engine Room, Maintenance Bay, and Mess Hall.” The three screens blinked to life- Still-life, as it would turn out. The Engine Room had movement only because the two massive engines were roaring, tearing them through space. The Maintenance Bay was silent, empty. The Mess Hall was equally quiet, although it wasn’t empty- there were a few trays that had fallen from the buffet tables, and he thought he could see food behind it.



The sight of food, even over a video screen, made his stomach growl audibly and his saliva glands kick into overdrive. He had a new goal. He no longer particularly cared where all the people were- it was time for food.



He shut off all the video links, turning towards the door. As he took his first step, his vision flashed blank, white-hot pain bursting into his head. He didn’t even feel himself hit the floor, but by then the memory was already in full-swing.





It had been about two months since the landing. Colonization itself had gone off literally without a hitch; the base had been set up easily, the atmosphere was breathable, the lack of ozone was made up for by the Phantoms- the colonists’ name for the floating blob-like indigenous species- who absorbed most of the nearby star’s harmful rays. The slightly dangerous work of completing the base was done by hand, and kept Andrew slightly busy with fixing busted fingers or pulled muscles. The gravity on this planet was nearly twice as much as on Earth, and as such the latter injury was by far the most common. But that wasn’t bothering him at the moment; he was at home, relaxing on one of his few days off.



“Breaking news,” the holovision suddenly announced, opening a new screen in front of the weather channel. “A massive Phantom migration is currently underway- the movement is focused over the Base Central Building.”  A simple glance out the window beside him proved it to be true- he could see the massive gathering of gelatinous forms in the sky. It unnerved him slightly- these things had so far proven brainless, this world’s equivalent of Earth’s jellyfish. Why were they gathering here, now, above the central focus of human activity? Strange, yes. But immediately concerning? No. So Andrew returned his attention to the holovision, which had now moved on to a program about the Phantoms themselves. The Emergency Broadcast Message was scrolling across the bottom; this program wasn’t just on this channel, it was overridden onto every single channel on every single holovision on the planet.



“I repeat, lock your windows! Get inside immediately!” A half-crazed looking man stood in view of the camera, his wild hair drooping in front of his slightly greasy bespectacled face. “The Phantoms are dangerous! They’ve evolved- we don’t know how- but they don’t just feed on sunlight anymore! They’re absorbing brainwaves- they’re eating our thoughts! They’re getting smar-“ The holovision suddenly erupted with static as a loud groaning noise was heard. The communications tower- one of only three on the entire planet- was being torn down inadvertently by the approaching mass of Phantoms. The massive steel tower crumpled like paper as it fell, smashing hard enough into the surface to cause the entire Base Central Building to shake violently. Windows were shattered, not that it was particularly dangerous- the air outside was perfectly safe, so there was no worries there. However, the crazed man’s seemingly inane rants now appeared to have a measure of truth to it- the Phantoms had never even come near the humans’ base before, let alone actively engage in any sort of aggressive behavior. Andrew was no expert, but those things didn’t look like they were playing around.



So he did what any reasonable man in his position would do. He backed slowly away from his shattered window, turning towards the elevator. He hurried his pace as a glance over his shoulder confirmed his gut feeling- the Phantoms had sped their approach rapidly, as one even now worked its way into his window. He mashed the button to call the elevator repeatedly, even going so far as to slam it and shout before realizing there were stairs only two feet away. Primitive, yet effective- how had he not realized that before?



Dashing down the three flights of stairs took all of a minute and a half- he wasn’t in the best shape of his life, to be sure, but that was balanced out by the fear of whatever that flying blob in his room was going to do to him. For a moment he almost paused- he was fleeing for his life from a giant blob of floating Jell-o for God’s sake, what was he thinking?- when a scream from outside the stairwell urged him on. He fled to the nearest Rover, cursing the cowardice that led his feet forward the whole time. Jumping into the car, he jammed his finger into the scanner and the ignition roared to life- or rather, buzzed quietly as the reactor core deep within suddenly ionized- and he threw the acceleration into full swing before it had even finished. This caused the vehicle to lurch forward and stop suddenly- his eyes flashed past the mirror. There was a man there, being chased by three of the Phantoms. He was nearly at the door of the Rover… But the Phantoms were nearly at his neck.



He could have stopped. He could have saved the man. That was his job, after all- he was supposed to save lives. If he couldn’t do that, what kind of doctor was he? But in that instant, as he saw the leading Phantom reach a nearly spectral pseudo-limb at the man… Medical Sgt. Andrew McClain looked the man in his eyes. He saw the desperation, the pleading. And he looked forward, closing his eyes to the silent plea for life. McClain’s hand settled on the acceleration handle. The other man’s hand had reached the door handle the same moment the Phantom had reached his head… And despite the sudden roar of the fusion reaction going on inside the engine of his vehicle, the man’s scream echoed in his mind for the rest of the ride… And long after that.



He heard himself groaning before realizing it was actually him- the noise set him on instant alert, the adrenaline his dream-self felt having carried over to real life. Andrew was suddenly very much awake, and very much afraid. He remembered enough to be very concerned; the Phantoms had attacked. Which meant they had indeed been on the planet already, which in turn meant that the survivors from the Phantom attack should be on board. The only problem was the same problem he’d been having before.



“Where is everyone?” Surely he couldn’t be the sole survivor of nearly a hundred thousand colonists. Surely there were others aboard with him,  he simply hadn’t found them yet. That must be it. In which case, it would only make sense to continue his idea from before the blackout- go to the Mess Hall. First off, he was starving. Nearly forty years in stasis was the equivalent of almost a week without food, and although he was pumped full of artificially processed nutrients, his stomach was empty and his brain told it to cry for food.



It was only too happy to oblige, growling loudly. He frowned, glancing at his own abdomen as he lifted himself to his feet.



He shook his head as he staggered towards the hallway- he was still aching all over. Forty years in suspended animation was vaguely the equivalent of lying in bed for about a month and a half in terms of muscular atrophy- he was so weak, in fact, that before he even reached the hall door he was out of breath. There should have been something for that in the Medical Bay- a biogel regenerative called Voxime, one of the first-discovered and longest-lasting drugs on the market. Basically a miracle cure- a green luminescent canister capable of administering three shots of stem cells and nanobots designed to find major flaws  in the human body- most genetic issues were ignored completely, only physical wounds or disabilities were targeted- specifically for almost instantly closing most major wounds and sometimes even nerve damage or paralysis.



When it had first come out, it cost millions- only the super-rich or super-desperate bought or stole it. Then suddenly it became the replacement for Band-Aids… And surgery, and basically anything else. Just jab the needle into the skin near the wound, push the little button, and wait a few seconds. Then bam, you’re good as new. Made Andrew’s job a whole lot easier, for the most part- severe lacerations were pretty simple to fix, and the only thing Sgt. McClain ever had a problem with was severe blunt trauma. For some reason or another, Voxime had a hard time figuring out what to do when there was too much damage to a particular part. Say, for example, a man’s hand was crushed completely- bones, nerves, arteries, everything from the wrist up was wrecked.  Voxime would do one of two things- abort completely and sit there, causing irritation at best, a minor clot at worst… Or it would try to fix what it could, but not enough for the patient to be satisfied. In which case Andrew would sit there tediously, working on the patient until it was late enough for another dose.

As he thought about the miracle cure, he slowly made his way towards the Mess Hall- up until now, his thoughts had distracted him from the eerie silence of the ship. He sighed to himself, wishing the P.A. system would kick in automatically so he could at least hear one other human-ish voice.



As if granting his wish immediately, static came in over the intercom. For a sweet, single moment, he prayed it was the Captain making an announcement of some kind- a meeting had ended and crew was returning to their posts, they had arrived at the destination, something. But then the perfectly automated female voice programmed into the ship said, “Tonight’s selection is Sebastian Bach’s ‘Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major.’ Please enjoy.”



A moment of silence broke between the monotonous voice and the music; when it did begin playing, Andrew frowned. He’d never liked how the night rotation had music playing the whole time, but it was supposed to help those in stasis maintain brain development. He sighed, trying to drown out the cello over the intercom- as beautiful as this piece was, he simply did not want music now. He wanted a person to be there, he wanted someone, anyone, to break this emptiness, this loneliness. McClain punched a wall in anger- the weak swing barely made a noise as it hit the titanium/chrome wall, the ding echoing softly once before fading completely behind the soloist’s cello.



He approached the final corner; a sign hung, slightly crooked because of a missing bolt, that had a large red arrow pointing towards the words “Mess Hall,” and indeed the Mess Hall itself. He walked into the room- and immediately collapsed again. Oddly enough, the entire dream sequence after this had Sebastian Bach’s “Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major” playing in the background.



He gave a mighty roar as his vehicle hit and overcame a passerby. He no longer cared whether they were human or Phantom- he was getting the hell out of there, and running over anything in his way. Someone had gotten their hands on a Personal Ion Cannon, and was now blasting in every direction hoping to hit something. They got their wish, blasting off the rear-view mirror of Andrew’s vehicle. He hit the man with the blaster full-on in the chest, smashing his own windshield from the impact but immediately killing the man. With half of a dead man now inside his car, he stopped abruptly- the body continued with full force, removing itself handily while leaving behind the corpse’s Ion Cannon. Grimacing as he picked it up- lacking any sort of firearms training despite being a medic in the military, he’d only fired an actual gun a few times in his whole life. And a laser even fewer- perhaps once. He didn’t even know how to go about reloading it, if indeed it even needed reloading. Forgetting that for a moment, he floored the acceleration lever and continued his escape.



Driving like a bat out of hell only got him as far as the base line. He managed to do enough damage to the Rover for him to have to continue on foot; he crawled from the wreckage of his most recent crash- right into the side of a standard unit plasma generator, the main source of power for the planet. Luckily he failed to fracture the inner workings of the reactor, otherwise he and everything in about three miles would have been instantly incinerated.



As he stood from his near-miss with death, he looked back at the base- or what was left of it. The Phantoms had managed to destroy a good portion of the buildings there simply by bumping into them in their blind, brainless determination to get to the human prey within. Again with the irony- the ’mighty’ human race, first running from their own sun and now a third of what was left eliminated by flying jellyfish. Groaning quietly to himself, he turned away from the carnage. “What now?” He’d asked himself, very seriously considering taking the Plasma Cannon to his own head. There was no other human base- and he didn’t know if anyone else survived the Phantom attack. For all he knew, he was the last one alive…



At least, that’s what he was thinking before another Rover pulled up beside him as he sat with his face buried in his hands.



“Hey, you alright?” The voice was soft and sincerely concerned, and as Andrew looked up he saw something that raised his spirits quite a bit- a truck full of survivors, and a young woman leaning out the door. “You crashed? Do you need any help?”



“No. I’m alright, somehow. Or I will be. Better than… Them,” McClain muttered, glancing towards the base, ashamed as he remembered his own cowardly, selfish escapade.



“Well, we’re heading over to the Dark Sector. Those things can’t follow us there- they won’t have anything to eat but us, and if we hide out in caves they’ll have to leave us be. Then we can maybe come up with a way to fight back,” she said confidently, before getting nudged in the arm by the man next to her.



“Well damn, Harding. Why not just tell him the whole plan?” The man asked sarcastically, practically growling at her. She sneered, replying rather quickly.



“He’s a doctor. Military, just look at the uniform. We’d have let him in on it anyway sooner or later, or he’d have found out himself. Stop being so paranoid, Phil.”



Andrew stood then, stepping towards the van as the woman waved him in. “Come on, we’ve gotta move quick before those things figure out where we went.”



Introductions happened as they moved. There were two others besides Ms. Harding and Phil, whom Andrew met hastily.



Ms. Harding’s name was Sylvia. She was short and skinny, slightly darker than the rest- perhaps of Indian descent? With incredibly light blue eyes, as strange as it was. Her hair was as dark and short as she was, and she kept it tucked behind her ears in the places where it got that far. She looked like a scientist, wearing a white lab coat and carrying a clipboard with her even now. Her glasses, Andrew now saw, were tucked into the breast pocket of the coat, underneath which she had on a red skirt.



Phil turned out to be the esteemed Phillip Henry, the man who owned practically half the plasma conduits on the planet. Before colonization he’d been a lowly mechanic, but once settling in had gotten out of the way he’d made a killing by selling his conduits made from spare parts for half the price of the others. It’d taken him only a week to buy out the other mechanics, and from then it was straight to the top. Not that he’d been able to make too much a name for himself in two months, but he was filthy rich. And it showed; from his perfectly manicured hands to his red silk tie and name-brand suit, probably one of the last from Earth, he fit the bill for spoiled rich boy.



There was Steven  vonGraff, the man who owned the local pawnshop. He was a greasy scumbag of a man, about chest-high to Andrew and balding terribly, wearing a sweat-stained white sleeveless shirt and blue jeans. His food-child stuck out even under his loose shirt, almost giving the man the appearance of pregnancy. His shrewd eyes went over everything Andrew was and had, giving each item a silent value in his head. Andrew frowned slightly as he saw this, raising an eyebrow slightly. The distrust in the man was immediate- his resemblance to a weasel or ferret or other rodent of the sort would have unnerved him any other time.



The driver was the actual owner of the truck, a man by the name of Darrel Jones. He was incredibly dark, a nearly purple shade compared with the white chrome of the Rover they were in. His smile was incredibly yellow, and he smelled of cigarette smoke- the whites of his eyes were stained the same shade, giving him a strange, almost deathly-like appearance as he introduced himself. The man himself seemed ancient- his wrinkles and apparent frailty led Andrew to wonder how indeed the man had survived the recent events. Apparently holding up in his own truck was a pretty good idea. He had on a gray/black flat cap, underneath which solid gray hair was desperately reaching for freedom. His beard was the same color as his hair, leaving an odd patch of discoloration on his face; he wore a white button-up cotton shirt with black pants and suspenders. The only thing missing was a banjo, Andrew thought with a small grin.



“The hell are you laughin’ at?” Darrel asked accusingly, phony-glaring at him. For a moment Andrew took him seriously and returned the eye contact warily, before the old man cackled hysterically. That cackle quickly broke into a wheeze, at which point McClain relaxed and smiled. “Don’t be all up-tight, son,” the old man advised, nodding. “That’s how ya get outta situations like that. Stop bein’ all up-tight, jus’ relax a bit an’ let things settle themselves out, huh? Sure, ya need ta kick a little ass here an’ there… But ‘at don’ mean ya cain’t have a lil’ fun doin’ it.”

Most of the rest of the ride was spent in silence as Darrel tried to get the group to warm up to each other; Andrew wasn’t much for talking, though, and whenever Phil or Sylvia opened their mouths the other was immediately quarreling with them. Eventually even kind-hearted Darrel gave up, letting the silence drift over them for the next few hours.



They finally reached the dark side, and it nearly caused Andrew to faint. First of all, the entire side of the planet was about three feet lower than the light side. It was a lopsided planet, which made absolutely no sense. Second of all, the entire face of the planet was glowing with an eerie greenish-yellow light; the luminescent rock was also partially transparent, as if they were standing on plates of thick glass. And finally, the main reason for the near-faint: the black hole.



It was clearly visible even from there, despite them having to have been at least three lightyears from the thing. It was as if the sun had gone dark- a literally black star, ringed with blood-red as other celestial bodies constantly evaporated near the edge, the entire thing was a sight that was maddeningly hypnotic. They continually had to remind each other to keep an eye on the road, as Darrel’s eyes drifted back up to the black hole.



Eventually Darrel managed to crash into a cave- it took them an hour to pull the truck from the hole in the surface of the ground, but the angle of descent was sloped enough for them to slip in quickly enough. Not bothering with hiding the vehicle- those things were hopefully too stupid to understand what it meant, or at best be blind and wouldn’t know it was even there.



He lifted his face off the ground just far enough to see the empty Mess Hall, shaking as he attempted to push himself off the ground again. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe- gasping for air, he rolled onto his side and tried to stop the shaking. After another few moments of seizing he finally calmed down enough to breathe normally, and once he’d gotten to that point he was able to work his way slowly to his feet. Over-exertion, he wasn’t supposed to be this active so soon after such a long duration in stasis. He staggered onward with an awkward gimp- his leg felt near to giving out, and his head certainly didn’t feel any better. Blood flowed from his nose freely now, and he only bothered wiping it away every once in a while. He probably looked like hell, he considered as he entered the kitchen area of the Mess Hall.



He recalled now the survivors he’d been with; Sylvia, Phil, Darrel, and Steve. They’d rescued him, getting him far enough from the Phantoms to be safe… Where were they now? Somewhere aboard the ship? Why couldn’t he remember!?



He attempted to clear his thoughts from the maddening loneliness, distracting himself with his search for food. His stomach growled again, as he finally found a package of dehydrated noodles and shrimp. Not even bothering to get to the Hydrator, he bit into the solid chunk and chewed vigorously. It swelled in his mouth, becoming a soggy, mostly tasteless mush as his saliva hydrated the food. It was slop, to be sure, but he was beyond the point of caring- he ate like a rabid animal, frothing at the mouth and damning table manners.



The P.A. system had stopped playing music- either the night shift was over, or the ship’s wiring was faulty and he just couldn’t hear it from here. Either was likely- despite the ship’s mostly intact appearance, he’d seen sparks flying from live wires and the lights flickering more as he continued on. The ship’s condition seemed to deteriorate further as he continued on. The Mess Hall was ruined completely, but he found a gift from whatever higher power was looking out for him- a little green vial of life, the biogel regenerative medication Voxime. He totally ignored everything he’d ever learned about the stuff, pumping it into all his limbs and sighing as the atrophying quickly reversed itself. In a few minutes, he was brand-spanking new and grinning.



He had a momentary spasm- coughing violently, he purged the unnecessary green gel from his system in a mighty hurl and wiped his mouth. Throwing up a glowing green gel certainly wasn’t the highlight of his day, but considering how he’d woken up late and without memory, it wasn’t the worst thing. He wiped off his chin, frowning at the green puddle.



“Well. That sucks,” he muttered to himself- glancing around, he hoped for the first time that someone wouldn’t pick this moment to find him, standing in a puddle of vomit and green bio-gel, half-overdosing on Voxime.



When no one came, he sighed again and tried to move on. His vision began blurring slightly, and his mouth felt tingly, almost numb- his head suddenly felt very light, and as he tried continuing down the hall he found that walking in a straight line was nigh impossible. The wooziness passed in a moment, however, and a second purge rid his system of the rest of the Voxime causing him this strangeness. While he was no longer sore, his head was only getting worse- his nose had begun to bleed again, and his eyes were feeling the pressure now of an oncoming migraine. Soon he’d hardly be able to look at a light, let alone move- he had to find someone fast, or at the very least somewhere safe-ish to collapse and writhe in pain.



He decided the Bridge would be the next likeliest place for survivors to be- someone had to be piloting the ship, right?

The closer he got to the Bridge, the further deteriorated the ship’s interior appeared. He’d made it into the next hall, and it was a lethally brilliant maze of electrical death dangling from every angle; he’d had to retrace his steps and find a different path.

As he reached a sealed blast door that led to a section of the living quarters that’d take him the long way around, he was overcome with another fit- he leaned heavily against the door, grazing his hand across the blue handprint scanner prompt allowing the door to open as he fell through it.



The cave had been a trap. It had all been a trap- not an intentional trap, he was sure, but it certainly hadn’t worked out. There had been something in there- something large, about the size of a Rover, with claws and teeth and multiple glowing eyes. It’d screeched and charged at them within the first moments of the survivors entering the cave. Giving a scream of pure terror as they turned and fled, the group had made a mad dash to the mouth of the cave. Steven had grabbed Phil by the suit collar, pulling roughly down and back. The man had stumbled and collapsed, but not before grabbing Steven by the knee and yanking with all his might- with a crack, the scumbag’s bum knee had given way and the two men were left in the darkness with that cave-dwelling monstrosity. Their screams followed Andrew, Darrel, and Sylvia all the way to the Rover; after the engine fired up, however, it was silent again. Suddenly, two ragged figures rushed from the cave; Steven and Phil, miraculously still alive yet definitely in bad shape. The beast was mere inches behind them, playing with its food; Phillip managed to make it far enough to grab Andrew’s hand and be yanked aboard the Rover. Steven reached for the same thing- but just as the man’s eyes lit up with hope of survival, a hole exploded between them as the monster’s sharp, pointed tongue shot through his brain.

They drove away, leaving the animal to gnaw on Steven’s bones.



“Good riddance,” Phil muttered between ragged gasps, holding a wound on his arm that seemed to be bleeding rather profusely.

“What in God’s name was that thing?” Darrel asked quietly, glancing in the rear-view; it was leaving them be as they drove off. Thank God.

“Another of the planet’s inhabitants?” Sylvia suggested, shrugging slightly. “With the lack of sustenance on this side, it may be possible that they evolved to obtain nutrients in other ways… Such as actually eating it.”



“Well, we’ve got Phantoms on one side, and those goddamn monsters on this side,” Andrew commented, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Looks like we’re officially screwed.”



“Not… Not quite,” Phil mumbled, blinking slowly. “I have… An idea. We can get back… Back to the ship. Refuel it… Rewire the Plasma magnets to feed into the engines. A few minor… Modifications,” he muttered, smirking slightly, “and we’ll be in business. We’ll fly off this rock and make it to one of the other colonies.”



“Sounds like the best chance we’ve got,” Andrew agreed after a long moment of silence, nodding.



“I hate to admit it… But I actually agree with him on this one.” Sylvia nodded too, glancing at Darrel.



“Man… I don’t care how the hell we do it, as long as we get off this damn planet in one piece,” the old black man muttered, loosing another cackle.



“It’s settled… Then. Let’s get back… to the ship,” Phil muttered, closing his eyes. “And someone… Get me some damn… Voxime.”





He coughed as he awoke, sitting up. He’d fallen against the railing on the nearest bed, apparently hitting his head. The blood from the wound had caked on his face, and he scratched it off slowly as he sat up and looked around. Those things in the caves- they’d called them Wraiths later on- had eaten Steven, and almost killed Phil. He sighed, expecting a party of one less as he explored. “Damn, Steven. You were probably as sleazy as you looked… But you’ll be missed,” he muttered quietly, frowning. He felt like, now that there was a quiet moment, he deserved a few words at the very least.



Gingerly probing his injury, he found it to be minor at best. There must have been enough Voxime left in his system after all, just enough to mostly close the split on his head. The gash had been on his forehead, above his left eyebrow and just onto his scalp- it was now just a mere inch long, barely deep enough to actually bleed once he’d done his rough cleaning job.



Shaking his head as he stood, he began on his way again- then the lights shut out completely. “Damn it!” He shouted, bumping into another railing as he stumbled blindly. He stopped moving- he’d just wait for the lights to turn back on. Sitting down on one of the cots, he sighed and began tapping his foot anxiously.



In the darkness, without the thought of moving to distract him, the soul-crushing loneliness set in again. The doubts, the fear- what if he really was completely alone? He couldn’t be- someone had to have altered the date he was to be released from stasis- otherwise, how’d he wake up forty years late? Despite being back on the ship after already landing, shifts were only supposed to last ten years, max. The computer automatically did that for you… Unless someone altered the date you’re supposed to be released.



He sighed- it’d seemed like hours had passed, and the lights hadn’t so much as flickered back to life for even a moment. He’d have to make the rest of the way blind- at least this way he wouldn’t be electrocuted by live wires.



Once he’d made it into the hall, the soft red glow of emergency lights pulsed every few seconds, illuminating McClain’s confined world in an unnatural shade of crimson.



The flashes of red unnerved him greatly as he maneuvered his way down the silent hall- in every flash of light, he saw Phantoms around every corner; in the darkness, the claws of the Wraiths were waiting to gut him with each step he took. The hallucinations continued right up until McClain lost it, charging blindly down the hallway- he tore past the nightmarish scenes lingering just outside his field of vision, finally slamming face-first into a heavy titanium door.



The light side of the planet was totally unrecognizable. The human base had been torn asunder, bodies lying helter-skelter across the land; awkward death poses, every form imaginable, could be seen in one way or another as the Rover sped towards the last standing monument to humans on this planet; the UES Columbus, intact and appearing to be actually prepped for launch. That wasn’t according to plan- all the changes they’d planned on making to the ship, already made. The front door was even wide open for them… It was the most obvious trap Sgt. Andrew McClain had ever seen.



But it wasn’t like they had a choice. They’d stepped aboard cautiously, the single Ion Cannon their only defense against the Phantoms. Despite his lack of formal training with a weapon, Andrew was the only one among them who didn’t refuse to hold the weapon. They continued into the ship, which seemed as welcoming as ever… In a creepy, ‘this is completely an ambush waiting to happen’ sort of way.



They were in the Bridge.



He was in the Bridge.



There were Phantoms everywhere.



There were Phantoms… Everywhere.



“Holy… Shit,” Darrel had whispered, the blobs slowly drifting towards them. The survivors backed away equally slowly, until one of the Phantoms sprang to life suddenly and latched itself to Phil’s head. The man screamed, twisting and turning, desperately attempting to wrench the abomination from his face. Panicking, Andrew aimed and fired three shots; the first two struck Phil dead in the chest, blowing fist-sized holes through the man’s body. The third hit its target, blowing the Phantom to smithereens; but not before Phil had already passed, gurgling blood and dropping.



Andrew stood dumbstruck, staring at the skeleton lying on the floor; in the darkness, it was nothing. But when the red light touched it, the man Andrew murdered lay there once more, staring up at him hatefully. Cursing him forever in the afterlife. Andrew looked away, frowning.

They’d ran. But where to? The Phantoms were everywhere. There was nothing they could do.



THERE IS STILL NOTHING YOU CAN DO,



A voice screamed into his mind. He jerked away from the voice, glancing only a moment at the hideous sight before him- hundreds of Phantoms, sliding around between and through each other. It was a hideous orgy of gelatinous freaks, but the worst part was what they surrounded.



YOU ARE INFERIOR. YOU ARE WEAK. WE ARE LEGION- WE ARE STRONG. YOU TOOK US, CHANGED US… AND WE DEFEATED YOU.



Andrew’s mind reeled, his vision dulled as he gripped his temples and fell to his knees. He couldn’t even hear his own scream in pain. He forced himself to look again at the mass of creatures- they writhed grotesquely around a holographic projection. It flickered as they interfered, but it was clear what they had found.



YOU THOUGHT WE WERE NOTHING. BUT WE ARE WHAT YOU MADE US,



The voice shrieked, and McClain’s eyes and ears began bleeding along with his already-flowing nose. He made one desperate attempt to throw himself at the distress signal, give some kind of warning to the colony they were headed to… But he had barely prepped for the jump as the world faded into nothing. He fell to the ground with a hollow thud, and moved no more.



WE ARE PHANTOM. WE ARE SUPERIOR… AND YOU ARE DOOMED.







The soft hum of machinery was the first thing she heard; she blinked slowly as she removed her face from the cold steel floor, rubbing her eyes. She sat up, leaning against the wall behind her. Opening them slowly only to blackness, panic quickly rose in her chest- however, once fuzzy outlines began fading into place and his vision soon reset itself, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She could see, that was always good. Blinking again as she looked around, she raised an eyebrow. “Where… Am I?” Sighing slightly as she pushed himself off the wall, she reached his feet and looked around. Even through the pounding of her head she could vaguely make out the basic layout of the room; white/chrome pods lined the walls, all empty and closed save the one behind her. This one was empty and open… Was it hers? And… Where was everybody?