A Paladin’s First Steps | The Chronicles of Braum Stormforge

A Paladin’s First Steps

The Chronicles of Braum Stormforge

Bruam’s first days away from Wyrms-horde were ones of confusion, despair, and a deep sense of loss. By all accounts, it was his decision to leave the mountain; to venture from the depths of Myrepeak in the name of the Trudd. No one had forced him and it was not as if he’d been coerced by the deity to do his bidding. If anything, he had been unconsciously searching so long and so hard for a cause that he truly felt drawn to that the reaction was practically reflex. A knee jerk reaction. Something that he’d thirsted after for decades without knowing what that thirst was.

Yet, with the initial thrill of acceptance dying down, it was replaced instead by the aching of his sore feet and a deep, gnawing feeling in his gut. And as he trudged through the long, forgotten halls traveled only by the few humans and even fewer gnomes that ventured down to the Dwarves’ great halls, all of the weight and fear of the decision was hitting him full force.

He didn’t know what he would do.

Sure, Braum had heard the tales of paladins. They had done many great things. He’d seen the Greataxe of Journ, the paladin of Torag from the third Eon, glittering in its perfect, Mithril splendor as sharp and gallant as the day the dwarf had fought and defeated the Scourge centuries earlier. He’d seen the statues of Lon and Glon, the twins in the service of Pelor that had slain the Great Crimson Wyrm Faranak whose home and treasure piles would give way to the tunnels of Wyrms-horde. He’d even listened with wholesome intent to a young human man by the name of Kalen Nodworth who claimed to be tasked by the god Zohls to procure the recipe to everlasting life.

Braum always chuckled at that one; wondering if, to a human, everlasting life was just living past their formative years and making it to a rich age of forty or so. It seems like their race was too foolhardy to get much further than that without divine intervention.

Still, Braum thought with a furrowed brow as his feet throbbed in their steel boots, there are a lot more stories of horror than of wonder.

For every tale of magnificence that he could recall about a paladin of this God or that, Braum could think of a half dozen stories that he’d heard in passing about the mistakes of following one’s god. Hell, it was just another reason his family was always disinclined to the cloth.

For every Journ that stood gleaming in the night against the forces of evil, there was a Koveg that was killed by his followers when they decided THEY were the chosen followers of some damned deity. Or there was a Thurdag who got beheaded in the name of some holy crusade to the Eastern Kingdoms. Or there was a Wennoki, or a Thentrol, or a Javi… All of them met their end horribly in some dank hole in the world because they’d been driven forward by some divine light. Even Journ, glittering and fucking perfect as he was supposed to be, died of the Scourge that overtook his body after he slew the Lich Pathos.

Braum swallowed hard as he thought about the implications.

The tunnel that reached out before him sloped upward. Cold and hard, it was little more than baren, quickly carved stone and a paved flat surface so carts could pass into the Lower Cities. He’d never seen the entrance or the Sky beyond, but he knew it was there based on the stories he’d heard about it. He could feel the wind rushing down in little gusts and bursts that rustled his beard and the air around him felt far colder than he was used to.

And here he was walking towards it.

In his left hand, he held his shield, the weight always so comforting now seemingly unyielding. Khadgar it was called. “Trust” in his dwarven tongue. In his right hand, Magna. “Protector”. He could trust his shield most of all and, with his hammer in hand, he’d protect those that would need it.

Braum felt the fear well further up in his throat.

No. Not just fear.

Something else far worse that boiled the bile at the top of his gut.

He craned his neck back to look down the tunnel he’d been following for the last three days. The way that led back to the Lower Cities of the Dwarves. To the Heart of Myrepeak and the capital city of Wyrms-horde. Could he really just abandon it? Abandon everything he’d done in the name of some god on a whim? Just do what the supernatural bastard wanted?!

As if response, Braum felt a soft warmth grow in his chest. At first he thought it was Trudd listening to his thoughts somehow and judging him for it. He would punish Braum for some perceived heresy and destroy him right here and now. A dead paladin before he’d ever even gotten out of the mountain because he’d dared question the will of his lord. A reminder to never question a god’s will again.

But, upon looking down, he saw that his armor was glowing softly. His god was listening and Trudd was sending a message, but not one of anger...but of reminder.

Braum touched the glowing spot on his armor and chuckled in realization as to what it illuminated.

Much like his hammer and shield, he had named his armor as well. Inscribed with the same dwarven runes, quite literally molded into the armor at the time of its birth, Durmgrist. “Home”. He had always felt safe within the steel and something about the name always brought comfort to him in the darkest times. It had seemed perfect when he named it.

And now it did again.

Braum looked back down the tunnel one more time before continuing onward up the tunnel, his feet no longer aching as they had a moment before.

He still felt afraid. Only an idiot wouldn’t be. And the thought of how he would die and what terrible fate this decision would lead him to still swirled about in his mind. However, the biggest one...a feeling that he couldn’t quite put his finger on...was beginning to fade.

Braum no longer felt homesick. For he carried his home with him. He carried his armor and his shield and his hammer and, he supposed most important of all, he carried a faith that Trudd would watch over him; not just as some angry, vengeful spirit that demanded retribution in his name like some, but as a benevolent protector. Just as Braum would defend the innocent with all his power, he knew Trudd would watch over him in his own travels.

And, when the time came, he would not be wrought with fear at slipping into the void. He would be welcomed to eternity by the very father that watched over him.

Braum smiled to himself.

These thoughts stayed with him for many miles, washing away all other anxieties and terrors of the dark, as, for the first time in his life, Braum stepped out into the sunlight beneath a wild blue sky.

===

Hello Lovelies,

I was quite surprised to see how well Braum's story was received earlier. Surprised, but happy. My Dungeon Master not only liked it but also wants more information. He's encouraging us all to highlight the in-between the origin of the character and when the story of the game that we're playing actually starts. While I don't think anyone is quite tackling it to the length I am, I find that actually fleshing out the character's story makes me feel for them and understand them more than just going "Braum fought this badguy" and leaving it at that.

I do hope you enjoyed. I intend to do more but I guess I'll see if they get posted or not.

Love you all and have a wonderful day,

- RB

=== 

Birthday - Part 7

    The sea water that filled the cave entrance was warm. It seemed to soak into every inch and every crevice and gave Couglin the distinct feeling of wading through hot sludge.
    At its deepest, it came up to her waist.
    She was just about to call it off, to write the cave off as a misstep in judgement, when she heard it: the echoing 'poppop' of a service pistol.
    The sound rang through the cave and seemed to galvanize the remaining members of her squad.
    Bullock traded a quick glance with her and she nodded in silent agreement.
    Within a few minutes, they were through the thickest part of their watery trudge. And, while the tunnel was still unpleasantly humid and much of the rock was actively wet and slick, it was nice not to be wading through it.
    Even better, the cave was widening out, allowing for something more than single file.
    "Alright." Coughlin said in a hard whisper, surprised at how loud she had to speak to be heard over a constant trickle and splash of water. "Fire teams, form up. Alpha. You've got point."
    Automatically, the groups fell into a double-diamond shape that always reminded Coughlin of an hourglass. Bullock took the front with Brick and Mikhailov on either flank and Greer just about at Coughlin's side. Bravo team took up a similar stand behind her.
    "We get anything through this rock?" she shot back at Kuroba who was following tightly at her heel.
    "Negative. Any telemetry we might get isn't going through the rock. We're blind."
    "But not deaf." she said, reminding Bravo leader of the shots they'd just heard.
    "Not at all. At least we know there's something down here that wants us dead." Ludwig sarcastically complained.
    "Sounds fine to me." Dixon said in an oddly even tone."
    Coughlin glanced back at Ludwig in annoyance and was about to say something when the wall next to the Rifleman exploded.
    The man didn't even have time to react as the rocky wall gave way to a single, massive clawed hand that punched through his shoulder and side and tore the entire limb clean off. Simultaneously, the private let out a gut-wrenching scream and squeezed the trigger in shock, his pulse rifle firing directly into the mass of his fellow soldiers.
    Greer hadn't even turned around when the back of her helmet exploded.
    "6 O'Clock!" Coughlin bellowed only moments before fire from six other rifles joined her own and ripped the beast that was only now crawling from the wall into a fine mist.
    But it wasn't alone.
    Emerging from the waters they had just come through, from the opposing wall, and from below the path they had just walked, several others emerged.
    They were all the same in appearance. None of them were like the hulking centaur like they had seen before, but instead a vicious, humanoid creature with long claws, chitinous armor, mottled flesh, and occasionally slender lashing tentacles. Some seemed to wear shreds of cloth and others had hollow white eyes but all were intent to kill.
    And all met a firestorm of rifle rounds.
    Twice more a wall gave way but each time the now alert squad greeted the emerging monster with a roar of death that ripped it to bloody chunks. Pieces sprayed everywhere in the close quarters and the earlier warning of a "biological contagion" flashed through her mind as she saw Brick step forward with grenade launcher in hand.
    The man was painted red and brown with pieces of the beasts.
    "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" he bellowed and launched a grenade that would definitely be against several rules of close quarters combat.
    The resulting explosion nearly knocked them all on their asses as several of the recently created tunnels collapsed in on itself.
    The air swirling in the dark, smoky tunnel, the squad swiveled in every direction as they waited for the next attack.
    But none came.
    "Form back up and check your weapons, people." Coughlin said, grinding her teeth. "No more accidents."
    She felt sick to her stomach. She had just lost two of her own in a matter of seconds. Ludwig, one of the youngest and arguably one of the more annoying, had still served under her for a full year. Greer for three. She would have to contact both of their families now. To talk to Greer's husband...
    Coughlin shook her head, telling herself that this was something for another time.
    She caught sight of Dixon who hadn't moved yet.
    He was staring back down the tunnel.
    "Dixon."
    He didn't respond."
    "Soldier."
    Dixon glanced at her but said nothing. And then back. He simply stared back down the tunnel. Back towards Ludwig. His expression unreadable.
    "Yes, Sarge."
    And then he was back in formation.
    They moved unassaulted for another five minutes.
    During that time, Coughlin noted two minor injuries and three potentially noteworthy encounters. Brick, who was painted red, was not only covered in the creatures' blood but also had a nice slash cut out of his left arm; clean through the battle armor. Gorman was equally covered in gore. Quinn was bleeding from the forehead after having been bashed against the rockface. And Xi had was covered in SOMEONE'S blood but Coughlin wasn't sure if it was from the monsters or the quick patch job on Brick's arm.
    No matter what, she knew they'd all be in quarantine for weeks after this.
    She was just picturing the barren, empty cells and the doctors in white coats hiding behind glass when the tunnel opened up to a massive antechamber.
    And there, hanging on the wall, was Charlie team. Along with a hundred others.
    Cocooned.

Survivors - Part 3

    Dr. Connel led Cisneros and Dr. Patang through the door and into the lab.
    The first thing that Cisneros noticed was the smell.
    Despite the heavy presence of anti-septic and bleach in the air, the stench was overpowering. It reminded him of wood-rot and rotten eggs somehow blended together into something worse; a very earthy that stuck to the back of his throat and seemed to slide down and make him want to gag. His stomach lurched and rolled a moment later.
    It clearly was showing on his face.
    "Well that's...uhhh..."
    "Yea. Smells like shit doesn't it?"
    "I think shit is more appealing."
    "Doctor, where did that smell come from?" Dr. Patang, an equal look of disgust twisting his features. "I know it wasn't here when I left to retrieve the Assistant Director."
    "Well, that's what happens when you're gone for so long."
    Cisneros glanced at Dr. Patang who was quickly turning a deep shade of crimson. The man looked even more fidgety and uncomfortable than before. He had to idly wonder if Dr. Patang wasn't just a brown noser for executives, but for literally anyone higher than him. It sure did seem like he didn't have a spine.
    "Either way, you'll find out shortly." Dr. Connel continued. "Let me show you what I was talking about."
    She motioned down a long hall set up with a number of observation areas on either side. One side was dominated by the massive monster they had seen earlier. The opposite side had more windows and more monsters.
    All of the ones on the left seemed notably smaller than the first creature. Bipedal by nature but just as hideous.
    And everywhere, in almost every room, men and women in full hazmat suits worked diligently.
    Cisneros kept walking.
    "Doctor Connel..." Dr. Patang began.
    "I'll explain what you're seeing better once I've shown you their larval and nesting stages first. It'll make more sense starting from bottom to top versus the other way around."
    Patang quickly grew quiet again, but Cisneros was not so easily subdued.
    "They have multiple life cycles then?" he asked pointedly with a tone that told her he was not to be pushed around like Patang.
    "Yes. We initially thought of their life cycles almost like the Spider Wasp from Earth, but quickly realized that comparison just wasn't accurate."
    As if on cue, they walked by an observation area that was darker than the others and immediately stood out. Cisneros stared at in in confusion for a split second before he realized that the walls, floors, and even the ceiling and lights were coated in viscera.
    "Not even a little accurate." Dr. Connel repeated as she followed their gaze around the bloodied room and quickly began walking again.
    "I'm sorry, but humor me. What's a Spider Wasp and how is their life cycle different?"
    "A Spider Wasp is an insectoid creature from Earth that immobilizes and lays eggs in the body of a spider; the most common being the tarantula." Dr. Patang quickly chimed in. "The eggs hatch and the larvae eat the paralyzed Tarantula."
    "Gruesome." Cisneros observed.
    "Very." Dr. Connel agreed. "But, while there are similarities, we were quickly shown that the analogy just wasn't close enough."
    "How so?"
    Dr. Connel didn't answer. Instead led them around a bend in the hall back towards another large operating theater labeled '2-D'. All the while, the stench grew worse and worse.
    For a brief moment, Cisneros believed that this room was similar to the one before. Covered in blood and bits, it had a similar darkened look to it as the overhead lights were mostly covered with gore. However, peering through the haze, he quickly realized this was very different then the remains of violence he'd seen before.
    For one, the walls were moving.
    A thick, viscous substance covered the walls, floors, and ceiling. It was intermingled with the viscera that he'd noted, but it was definitely different. It had a thick, fleshy appearance that made Cisneros feel like he was staring at the inside of an intestine.
    And somewhere in the darkness, he could see something moving.
    "God. Damn."
    "Right?" Dr. Connel asked rhetorically. "Took them a matter of hours to set this up. A few of the other nerds have nicknamed it 'The Nest'."
    Cisneros leaned against the glass.
    "What am I seeing here, Doctor?"
    "One of the organisms we brought aboard created this." she stated calmly. "It was one of two that were found alive. We put it in here and, a couple of hours later..."
    "What's all the gore? An accident?"
    "The creature."
    Cisneros looked at her sideways for a moment.
    "We reviewed the state of the creature when it entered. Other than being heavily sedated, it was also the most healthy. However, shortly after containment it collapsed and..." she grimaced. "...exploded. The larvae were birthed from there and, shortly after, the drones did the rest."
    He looked inside again and focused on the movement in the dark. He could barely make it out, but squinting he could see something that resembled a large and spindly Japanese Spider Crab. Long legs, big claws, and a hard, armored body.
    It was working on something unseen.
    "Where the hell'd the drone come from? That was inside the creature as well?" Dr. Patang demanded.
    "Not exactly. It was birthed from one of the larvae."
    "Start at the beginning, Doctor. Neither of us are following your train of thought."
    "Fine. Through a...well, let's say through an accident, we quickly found out that exposure to the creatures' blood has very unwanted infectious qualities. Even in death, the microscopic larva will bury into exposed flesh and start quickly having an effect on the patient's neural pathways."
    Cisneros arched a brow but said nothing. Something told him there was going to be a lot of paperwork he'd be dealing with in a week.
    "Most immediately, they feel hot. The exposure feels almost like a burning and, within minutes, the hosts, for lack of a better term, begin to feel like they are running an intense fever. Funny enough, their core body temperature doesn't raise until later." she observed off hand. "They then quickly develop hallucinations, relative insanity, and then catatonia."
    "From there, two alterations happen." she said, holding up two fingers. "One: the parasites begin to infect the host on a genetic level, changing the creature's very DNA. Two: newer, larger parasites begin to grow around and within the primary organs."
    "Once the genetic transformation is complete, the host has taken on a completely brand new form. Likewise, the secondary larvae have grown to about a half foot to a foot long. So far we've observed a half dozen or so within a fresh subject."
    "And this is when they pop?" Cisneros asked with a grimace.
    "Oh no, this is when they try to capture more hosts." Dr. Connel said with just a little bit too much enthusiasm. "We suspect that they don't 'pop', as you put it, unless they are exposed to an environment where a nest or hive is not readily available."
    Cisneros rolled the information around in his head before asking.
    "We're going to be having a long discussion about missing personnel later, aren't we?"
    "Yes."
    He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but filed that away for further consideration.
    "So, just to confirm what you're saying: these things can infect another creature. I'm going to guess that includes humans based on what you just said. They then transform into something else. If they don't have a nest, one of them explodes and the larvae inside make one...meaning that literally any one of these things could make a nest?"
    "Yep."
    "But it destroys the host in the process?"
    "Mmhmm."
    "So all you need is two to create an possibly infectious situation."
    "One."
    Cisneros considered the math for a minute. He felt like he was missing something.
    "One could create the nest. But where would your theoretical monsters come from that would do the rest of the work? That would create drones and gather new hosts?"
    Dr. Connel smiled that same wicked smile as something hulking and monstrous emerged from the darkness.

Survivors - Part 2

    Cisneros felt as if he was frozen in place.
    His muscles were locked and some baser part of his mind had kicked into overdrive. Despite the triple-state glass and a well manicured sense of superiority, some instinctual piece of him froze in terror.
    "What-?" was all he managed.
    In front of him, behind the seemingly too-thin safety glass, a monster lay across a massive surgical table.
    No.
    Not one surgical table.
    Several of them. All hastily thrown together to form some semblance of a flat surface where the scientists could work.
    The creature was quite large. At least a couple meters tall and several meters long not counting the muscular tail, it could easily rival some of the large African species of Earth. However, unlike those more benevolent herbivores, this ting was designed for carnage.
    Four heavy set legs with taloned feet were curled up under its dead frame. Long, sickle like blades sprouted from thin but powerful looking 'arms' from its thick torso. Its eyes were covered in heavy ridges and everything about its head seemed to slope into a gaping jaw filled with multiples rows of shark-like teeth. And the entire thing was covered in hulking plates of black, chitinous armor that looked like they could stop an rocket.
    Men and women in lab coats poked and prodded at the corpse, but despite a sneaking fear that the monster would arise and attack them all, it laid silent upon its bloody table.
    "What-" Cisneros began again as he mentally rebuilt his composure. "-is it?"
    "We don't know." Dr. Patang responded apologetically. "We've never seen anything like it."
    "What do we know about it?" he asked without looking at the good doctor.
    Cisneros studied the thing for a long moment. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.
    "We're still working on an official analysis."
    Cisneros glanced over and the Doctor who visibly cringed a little. He considered throwing his weight and demanding a better answer of the little asskisser, but thought better of it.
    "Humor me."
    "Apparently the team was getting odd results. I've been with you so I haven't seen the most up to date..."
    Cisneros sighed and continued to watch the men and women work.
    "Dr. Hagashi must have been out of his mind." he commented with a hint of annoyance.
    "Sir?"
    "I just can't imagine why they would have brought this thing aboard. I don't doubt it was an exciting find, but look at it."
    As if in response, Dr. Patang joined him in staring at the mound of terror.
    At the same time, the door on the far end of the room slid open and a short, lump of a woman clad in a white lab coat emerged.
    "I mean, that thing looks like it could tear a squad of marines in half without breaking a sweat. Why in the hell would they take it aboard? Why not study it on the surface? Or tag it for later examination by a more qualified team?"
    "Perhaps-" the woman interjected. "-because it wasn't that size when they acquired our little friend in there."
    Cisneros glowered at the woman's interruption but his expression quickly softened.
    "Samantha." he said with a smile.
    "Armando."
    "I wasn't aware you were on this project." Cisneros regarded.
    "Then you probably aren't doing a good job as Assistant Director." she chided with a playful grin.
    "Dr. Connel." Patang said with respect to the woman. "With all due respect, what do you mean? Are you suggesting it grew within a matter of hours?"
    "In one sense."
    Both men continued to stare at her, expecting more.
    "Tell me, Dr. Patang, how would you classify that creature in there?" Dr. Connel asked.
    Dr. Patang considered for a moment.
    "I'm not sure. It definitely appears to be carnivorous in nature. Omnivous at the absolute least."
    "And the genus?"
    "Demented centaur?" Cisneros offered.
    Samantha giggled and Cisneros allowed himself a smile at his old friend's amusement.
    "What if I told you that it was parasitic?" she asked after a moment.
    Cisneros stared at the monster sprawled across the operating tables. Considered the sheer size of the thing.
    "You're saying that creature in there is some sort of a parasite? For what? What the hell would it feed on?"
    "That is not the primary organism. I was referring to this."
    Dr. Connel produced from her jacket pocket a small glass jar about the size of a nectarine. She held it up to the light and it was clearly filled with some sort of blood. It was a nice deep red with the exception of several dozen large, black globules that floated around in the viscous liquid.
    Cisneros stared at the goo, trying to identify the shapes in the blood. It was only after a long moment that he realized the globes were creatures.
    "So this is our culprit?" Cisneros asked with burgeoning fascination.
    Here and there, one of the globes would unfurl into a small, worm like creature. Their appearance reminded him of the beast on the table, nothing but hard bits and sharp edges, but on a notably smaller scale and resembling a half inch caterpillar.
    "Indeed. I think the team from the Icarus found these things on the surface and didn't know what they had until it was too late.
    Before his eyes, one of the worms unfolded and zipped around the blood jar at a surprising speed. It swirled about for a few seconds and, finding no exit, curled up on itself again.
    Cisneros glanced back again at the monster on the table.
    "So tell me, Dr. Connel: what do those-" he said pointing a finger at the jar. "-have to do with that?" he motioned over his shoulder.
    "I'm so glad you asked." she responded with a surprisingly threatening smile and motioned towards the door to the lab. "Let me show you."

Survivors - Part 1

    Blip. Blip. Blip.
    Assistant Director Cisneros stared absent-minded at the acrid liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, down into his mug. The local crony here, Dr. Patang, had tried to convince him that this was this was the best cup of joe on the Daedalus.
    While Cisneros didn’t doubt the good doctor’s honesty; the little brown-nosing tool was too self-interested to not give full disclosure. However he did doubt that the liquid shit dripping out of the archaic machine counted as coffee.
    And he damn sure knew it didn’t smell like it.
    Cisneros glanced around the room as he waited for the stinking drink to finish brewing.
    All around him, cheap furniture, bad walling, dirty carpet, or gunmetal plating. Here and there an uncomfortable chair sat or a half-assed painting hung on the wall; really retracting from the environment more than they gave. It gave him the feeling of being in a lower-end office that had been shoved into a metal box.
    And really, it wasn’t far from the truth.
    Built cheap and built big, the Daedalus was one of two floating laboratories utilized by the corporation’s Xenobiology department. It housed just over two thousand biologists, botanists, chemists, computer experts, robotics technicians, and god knows what else plus the staff and crew that kept the entire dump heap in the air. It wasn’t the fastest or nicest ship in the galaxy, but with her sister, the Icarus, the pair of ships were some of the biggest and probably some of the only used as mobile laboratories and processing cities.
    At least until a month ago.
    Now the Daedalus flew alone in its lazy orbit around the Kaprelli system’s deep violet sun surrounded by the silence of space.
    Cisneros reached down and plucked up the now full mug. He took a swig only to grimace at the sour flavor. It tasted just about as good as it had smelt and, based on the look of shock and horror on Dr. Patang's face, he was glad his distaste with the drink was not lost on the good doctor.
    "I'm so sorry, sir." he quickly shot out. "I swear, it really is the best on the ship. The company doesn't really consider fresh cups to be pri-"
    "Enough, Doctor." Cisneros said flatly. "You'll forgive me if I tell you that I'm not in the mood right now."
    "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Dr. Patang said as he adorned that same, placid, stupid smile he'd worn since Cisneros arrived eight hours ago.
    "I don't have a great deal of time." Cisneros continued in the same, no-bullshit tone. "So why don't we get this little tour started so I can get on with a very long list of other things that need to get done."
    "Of course, sir." Dr. Patang repeated again and motioned towards the door of the grimy little kitchen.
    The pair made their way through the halls of the Daedalus at a leisurely pace as Dr. Patang prattled on about meaningless inanities. Cisneros could not care less. His visit here was far from routine and he had no interest in listening to small talk.
    He wanted to hear about their findings.
    Of course, it was probably sheer confidentiality that was keeping Dr. Patang from prattling on about that. Still, Cisneros had a lean in his step and they made their way towards the C-Deck labs with more speed than any other visit would have been afforded.
    The mystery of Icarus's destruction the prior month had nagged at him since it happened. And now he might get some answers.
    Originally, it came as a complete shock. The ship had just performed a relatively routine stop to a newly discovered world known as 'Bruni'. The planet was mildly interesting for the fact it was, by all intents and purposes, considered a jungle planet despite its severe climate; prone both to blistering heat and destructive electrical storms.
    Within a matter of hours from the stop, an SOS had been issued from the Icarus.
    An hour after that, the ship was flown directly into a sun with a very small contingent of its population escaping in lifeboats.
    The incident had bothered Cisneros for the month since it had occurred. Now, with several of the life boats captured and brought aboard the Daedalus, his curiosity was peaked as to what the scientists had discovered.
    Most notably because there hadn't been any reported survivors so far.
    So whatever they had found clearly wasn't human. Or, at least, not living ones.
    Dr. Patang offered a single open eye to the scanner next to the C-Deck air locks while simultaneously holding a thumb to a reader and a badge to a scanner. C-Deck, like a number of the locations on the Daedalus, was high security and set up with multiple security points. Additionally, the labs were completely sealed off from the rest of the ship in what was, for lack of a better analogy, a steel box with a single airlock that led into the ship primary.
    This fact only added to Cisneros' surprise when the heavy lead and steel door slid aside to reveal four hardskinned marines standing at attention, rifles ready, standing in the four corners of the inner airlock.
    He glanced at Dr. Patang with an obvious look of surprise.
    "We have...concerns." the doctor said flatly, dropping the cheerful, tour-guide tone he'd been using since Cisneros arrived.
    Cisneros' eyes narrowed but he said nothing. As much of a brown-nosing little shit as Dr. Patang had been, the presence of marines suggested they had found something much more exciting than a few corpses in a lifeboat.
    The two men submitted to a thorough search and ID by one of the marines; a man who identified himself as Sergeant Holmes. They were then led to the next room: a hastily thrown together decontamination room that the inner airlock would have normally been used for had it not been filled with combat armor and firearms.
    Once deloused, they both made their way down a long hallway lined by observation chambers.
    "Now that we're out of ear shot, would you care to share what exactly your team found on the life boats, Doctor?"
    "We're not sure." he said, once again adopting that slight lit to his voice again, but not nearly to the degree he had been earlier.
    "You're not sure?" Cisneros echoed after rolling the possibilities about in his mind.
    "Whatever they are is biologic. But after that, it's unlike anything we've found before."
    Cisneros said nothing as he was led through a maze of corridors. He could see scientists working in labs on any number of different experiments; however Dr. Patang shot right by them.
    At the far end of one hall, the Doctor approached a heavy door labeled 'XL-322". Directly below it. "Restricted Personnel Only." and a keypad. The Doctor entered in an unseen code, scanned his badge again, and motioned for Cisneros to enter.
    They were standing in the viewing area of an operating theater with a door on the far end of the room. The glass was artificially dimmed and Cisneros suddenly had a fleeting sense of claustrophobia in the dark room.
    "This is all well and interesting, Doctor. But can we can on with the theatrics?"
    "Sorry, sir. As I said, sir. We're not sure what we found." Dr. Patang continued as he raised the lights and revealed the laboratory behind the triple-state glass and the monster within.
    Cisneros took an unconscious step back from the now clear glass.  
    What the hell WAS that?
    He felt his heart jump into his throat and, for the first in a very long time, he felt a sudden wash of fear fall over him.
    "But if you've got any ideas..." Dr. Patang said with the first snark the Assistant Director had heard from him, "We're all ears."

Heat - Final

    Stalks of corn seemed to reach out to grab for George as he ran with all the strength in his body. Dry edges and broad leaves clawed at his arms and legs and threatened to trip him up and leave him in the monster's grasp.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound of a runaway train galloped behind him as the thing pursued. His head start had only given him an extra matter of seconds. Now the beast closed in with terrifying speed.
    And the ground shook as it got closer.
    George's legs pumped furiously, but he knew it was worthless. The thing was too fast, but that was part of his very mediocre plan.
    Let it chase him.
    He reached out and grabbed a handful of stalks with his left hand. He could feel the corn tearing from the ground, but it gave him some of the leverage he needed. Pivoting and pulling, he yanked his entire body hard and spun. He hit the ground hard and rolled out of the beast's path as it barreled by far too fast to grab him.
    Its scythe claws swung worthlessly over his head.
    Cradling his broken right hand, he pushed himself out of the debris and took off running again. This time at a 90 degree angle away from the thing's path as it slid and skidded through the corn field, trying ineffectively to slow down.
    Another extra few seconds.
    Another sprint as hard as he could.
    His lungs burned. His body ached. He was bleeding from at least a couple of scrapes and cuts on his arms and face. But it didn't matter.
    He had to keep it distracted.
    And maybe, just maybe, get away.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound came up from behind and to his right.
    George dove forward, landing belly up on the stalks that scratched his skin, jabbed him in more places than he could count, and knocked the wind out of him.
    And once again, the beast flew past him, a force of destruction fueled by tremendous weight and speed; taking an entire swath out of the field as it did.
    It slowed, faster this time, but still not fast enough.
    Barely able to breathe, and his limbs violently shaking, he took off running again at another sharp, contradictory angle.
    In the haze of exhaustion and panic, he heard something. A wooshing sound of some kind from the sky. It didn't mean anything to his numbed mind, but it registered for some reason.
    It was something important.
    But not important enough.
    His breath was ragged now. He was coughing and gagging more than he was breathing now. He was strong and had endurance, but he wasn't a track star and the sheer terror and effort was having an effect on his untrained body.
    George's feet stumbled and gave out beneath him.
    furrumpfurrumpfurruMP
    He could hear it coming.
    Hell, he could feel it coming.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Reaching down with his uninjured hand, he pushed off on the dry dirt hard and rolled to the side.
    A massive foot slammed down an inch away from his head as the thing failed to catch him yet again and went crashing by.
    George went to pull himself up again and found himself barely able to do so.
    The thing was already turning by the time he was able to stand.
    Still, he tried to run. And quickly realized he could barely walk.
    Another wooshing sound; this one louder with a loud hiss. It came from the field behind him where the ship had been found. Another monster perhaps? What the hell was that sound?
    It didn't matter.
    He kept going. Half jogging, half stumbling, towards the edge of his field. He couldn't keep going and some part of him told him to get to the edge of the field.
    He just had to get to the edge of the field.
    "Lel-!" he tried to yell for his wife, only to his voice disappear; hitching in his chest and cut off by a coughing fit.
    She had to get away, wherever she was.
    Only then, George realized he could see her.
    Lelena was there, just outside of the field. She was dirty but otherwise unharmed. And she looked like she was yelling at someone and pointing at the field with the barrel of her revolver.
    Who was she yelling at? he absently wondered.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Unconsciously, George dove forward. He hit the ground hard and, for the second time, felt his breath escape him.
    Only too late, in the haze, he forgot to roll out of the way.
    He tried to push himself to the side, but too slowly this time.
    His right arm was destroyed under the weight of one of the beast's clawed feet and thrown into the air as the thing galloped past once again and back out into the open.
    Back where Lelena was.
    But George couldn't think. He couldn't feel. His mind was alight in the fire of agony from having his arm torn off and he was screaming.
    He couldn't hear his wife yelling at the marshals and their marine contingent. He couldn't hear the thunderous echo of pulse and gauss rifles that punched through the monster's hard carpace. He didn't feel the thing's spray of vile blood or the thud as the beast fell to the ground; poisoning the very dirt it lay upon.
    He didn't even remember the face of Lelena and the marine medic by her side hovering over him or his trip to medical facility nearby.
    All he remembered was the pain.
    And, lingering up from the depths of his belly, an odd sensation that his body felt entirely too hot.

Heat - Part 4

    The thing chittered excitedly as it moved with heavy thuds away from George and over towards where he believed his wife was hidden. He felt his gut twist and he wanted desperately to do something to keep it away from her.
    She'd already shot it and it didn't seem to do more than piss it off. What was she thinking?
    That she wanted it to get away from you. Just like you want it to get away from her.
    He mentally cursed himself. He cursed his wife. He cursed whatever the fuck that thing was.
    chunkssshhrrrr
    George heard something. It reminded him immediately of a hoe being dragged through dirt and leaves. He listened for a few moments, trying to understand what it was before he decided to risk it.
    As carefully as possible, he tried to move some of the stalks so he could look in the direction of the sound and his wife. Every creak and crack of the fallen corn made his heart jump into his throat but the monster never seemed to notice.
    He managed to clear a tiny seam to look through.
    The beast, with its large, scythe-tipped limbs, was clawing through the corn. The 'hoe' thought seemed appropriate as it was punching the blades into the ground and dragging them backwards through the debris as it searched.
    Luckily, it didn't seem to have found Lelena yet.
    Instead it was aimlessly clawing at several large piles of corn. It hissed under its breath, sounding almost annoyed as it did. Any number of the piles could contain his wife and any second he could hear her scream out in pain and...
    He shook his head.
    He had to do something.
    But what?
    Lelena had said that the marshals were coming, but god knows when they would actually show up.
    Would they think this was a priority?
    It didn't matter. He had to help her before it found her.
    A thousand scenarios ran through his mind and none of them really ended well. This thing was huge, fast, and could probably tear him in two without a second thought.
    But Lelena was in trouble.
    Through the crack in the corn, he glanced back towards the house and up towards where the ship had crashed.
    The inferno had cleared and there were still the massive clouds of smoke. Maybe he could try to lose it in the smoke? It hadn't really shown any indication of being bothered by it, but he wasn't paying attention either.
    Still, the only thing over there other then the crashed ship was open fields. This thing moved like a freight train and hit like one too. Caught out in the open, he'd be dead in an instant.
    The beast chortled angrily and stabbed its claws into another downed pile of corn. George winced at the sight but nothing came of it.
    The house?
    He could make out the great wooden building just over the edge of the corn. It was sturdy and well built to survive the planet's severe winter storms. Everything on Shone III was. If he could make it to the house, maybe it would be enough to barricade inside. Maybe it wasn't strong enough to get in.
    Maybe.
    His kids were likely in there. Did he risk their lives on this hunch? And that would leave Lelena locked outside with that thing. Trapped in the field and...
    The field.
    He watched the monster as it clawed angrily through yet another lump of corn. There wasn't much left to search, which meant it would find his wife soon.
    But it hadn't found her.
    Whatever senses this beast had, at the very least, it seemed to hunt primarily by sight. It was big and strong and mean, but it hadn't tried to sniff her out or anything of the sort. Maybe it was just taking its time. Or maybe the insane plan he had just thought of would work.
    God, if you're listening, don't let Lelena follow me. Let her and the kids get out of here and let the marshals smoke this thing. And, if you got the time, keep this thing off my ass while you do. Nothing personal, just don't care to join you yet.
    George glanced up at the thing.
    There was only a single pile of fallen debris left.
    Lelena would be in it.
    Fuck it. Amen.
    Exploding from his hiding place, he crossed the couple of yards in an instant and did the first thing that came to mind to get its attention.
    He socked the thing in the back of the head.
    It screeched in anger and surprise while, simultaneously, he felt the bones in his hand splinter into a hundred pieces. Its screams were joined by his own as he howled in pain from the sound breaking of every bone in fist.
    But, rather than be paralyzed by the agony of having just punched what felt like a plastisteel door, his howls turned from ones of pain to ones of fury and George took off running. Not towards the house or towards the smoldering ship, but deeper into the field. Where everything was thick and mazelike and he might lose the beast in the endless rows.
    He ran as fast as he ever had in his life.
    And the thing followed.

Lost - Part 3

    CLANG!
    Cl-BANG! BONG! BANG!
    Cecilia's fall was short lived. Sliding down the cold metal, she found herself ricocheting off the sides of the tunnel. Slamming this way and that, she tumbled downward for what felt like an eternity but only lasted for some twenty or thirty seconds; smashing against her broken ribs and almost assuredly breaking some more bones along the way as her already abused body was beaten about like a undignified pinball.
    She came to stop at the bottom after a short, vertical fall straight down onto something surprisingly soft and squishy.
    Not that she noticed.
    Curled in on herself, all she could do was wail. Her sobs heaving her entire body and only making the pain from the fall that much worse.
    Losing her hearing not ten minutes ago was stressful and a bit painful. This was all pain. Lots and lots of pain.
    Her ribs felt as though several knives had been jabbed into her torso and her hands mindlessly wandered to see if she actually had been stabbed by something. She wasn't. On top of that she found that she couldn't quite turn her head and her left arm didn't seem to be responding the way it was supposed to and didn't seem to be sitting in her shoulder correctly. Anything didn't feel directly broken or dislocated started to feel swollen and her joints began to feel locked.
    Cecilia thought this might be what it would be like to have been run through a blender.
    The room she was in smelt odd. It was like rotten eggs with a hint of fresh manure that had just started to age long enough that the scent wasn't as sharp or nauseating. The ground was warm and wet to the touch; with a little give but more elastic then anything else. Around her, there was the sound of movement; squishy, sloshy sounds that didn't sound human.
    Still...
    "...help..." she barely whispered.
    But no help came.
    There seemed to be a stirring of activity. Some movement far off.
    Too far, she thought. 
    And so, curled in on her self, her body weakly heaving from the abuse, as she passed out from the pain.

    Cecilia was awoken in a start by the sound of pulse rifles.
    In a second of panic, her hands snapped up to her ears to protect them from the roaring booms, but she had forgotten about her left arm. It barely responded and, instead, sent shooting pain up her spine that took her breath away from a moment.
    This, with the fear of the rifles and the sheer shock of everything else, was too much.
    She screamed. Loud, long, and hard.
    It was a horrible, desperate cry. Primal in its intensity and singular in its purpose. It begged anyone, any human that could hear it, anyone of the same species: please help me.
    Save me.
    The pulse rifles, still loud, seemed to ebb. As if someone had stopped firing.
    "Did you hear that?"
    "I think we've got a survivor!" Cecilia could barely hear a young woman shouting.
    Yes. YES! she thought, her mind begging her to find shelter. To find her own kind and escape this nightmare.
    She tried to push up off the ground. Tried to escape.
    She couldn't.
    Her left arm wouldn't support her weight and, when trying to push off with just her right, she found that the pain in her ribs was too much. She screamed again just from the effort.
    "Over there!" a man shouted.
    Cecilia tried and failed again. Tears were streaming down her face as she fought against the agony. She could hear the roar of the rifles growing louder and the sounds of men and women running.
    Along with something else.
    There were roars and hisses now. They seemed to come from the very walls. To unfold from the darkness around her like shadows given some monstrous kind of life. They must have passed right over her while she was out cold earlier. Or they just never cared about her to begin with.
    Now they cared.
    "I think I see someone!" the woman shouted.
    "HELP!" Cecilia managed to scream before doubling over on herself again. She coughed and her mouth filled with the startling taste of copper. Blood.
    "We're coming!" someone else shouted.
    "There!"
    "Son of a bitch! More!"
    The hissing at Cecilia's sides changed to violent roars that were cut short with the blaze of pulse rifles some short distance away. She felt their warm blood splash across her back and hair and the sticky, slick feeling made her retch. A half-second later, two heavy thuds shook the ground she laid on and did not get back up.
    "Cover me!" the woman yelled. "I'm going for her!"
    "We've got you!"
    The marine sloshed and squished her way towards Cecilia and, a moment later, she felt warm, soft hands wrapping around her good arm.
    "I've got you, honey." the woman said with surprising tenderness. "Come on."
    "I...I can't." she sobbed. "Hurt...my ribs. My arm."
    "I know, sweetie. I know." the woman said softly tugging her up to a sitting position. "But we can't leave you here. They're going to destroy the ship. We have to get you off."
    Cecilia, who had been curled in on herself, her eyes shut, finally glanced up in the marine's direction.
    The marine gasped when she did.
    "Oh sweetie...how are you down here?"
    "Fell."
    "Down the air shaft?"
    "Mmm."
    The echo of pulse rifles intensified suddenly.
    "We gotta go!" the man yelled.
    "Gordo! Rifle slung! We need a lift!"
    "You got it, Sarge!"
    The ground shook as someone else came running; his armor and weapon clanking and clattering along.
    "Holy shit." the man began. "Is she...?"
    "Obviously." the woman said shortly. "She's pretty banged up and I don't trust her to be able to get out of here easy. Gonna need you to carry her."
    "How did she get down here?" he asked shortly. "How is she even still be alive if she's..."
    "Not now." the woman barked.
    "Sir." the man said shortly before leaning down next to Cecilia.
    She felt a second pair of hands wrap around her. Bigger. Warmer. Cecilia unconsciously leaned into them and sniffled.
    "This is gonna hurt, darlin'." the big man said. "So I'm sorry in advance.
    All at once, Cecilia felt herself leave the ground. Pain shot through her as the marine scooped her up and she screamed in response. The man cooed her softly and cradled her to his chest and she sobbed.
    But, her unconscious mind countered, she was safe. He was big and warm. He smelt of gunpowder and sweat and grime. His arms were large and hairy and muscled. She could hear his heart pounding, heavy and steady, in his chest. He was one of many marines with their guns and their grit and their determination to keep her alive. He was human and he would keep her safe.
    She felt the sobs calm slightly and she held tight to his armor.
    "Fall back!" the woman shouted.
    "Let's go!" the man yelled in unison.
    Cecilia held tight as they moved. They were surrounded on all sides by the other marines; seven others from what she could tell. They moved in unison, fleeing the hive as quickly as possible. And, as they moved, she heard whispers.
    "Did you see her eyes?"
    "My god...how did she get down here?"
    "Do you think they did that to her?"
    "Enough chatter!" the woman barked.
    "Sir," an unknown male voice said, "We only have five minutes til the last dropship departs."
    "Then let's not miss our bus." the big man holding her said.
    "MARINES! WE ARE LEAVING!" the woman shouted. A moment later, the entire group took off at a run.

===

(Hello Lovelies, I'm glad you've been enjoying this little romp. There will be one more after this and then we will see about returning to 'Kappa in my Closet' along with a few other things! All I can say in my defense is that I was inspired because of the upcoming 'Alien: Covenant movie. Not gonna lie, I'm enjoying my version better. haha! See you soon.)

Lost - Part 2

    BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!
    The pulse rifle kicked like she was holding a jack hammer upright. The barrel jerked up and ripped itself out of her hands. The room reverberated with the sound of a dozen explosions.
    A moment later, there was a thud as the creature hit the ground. The entire floor shuddered with the impact.
    Cecilia barely registered it.
    Her hands quivered and her entire body shook with terror. The BOOMs from the gun had been replaced by a high pitched ringing that threatened to drown out her hearing. She strained to hear anything but the penetrating 'tiiiiiiiiiiiing' in the throbbing pain in her ears.
    It was just too much.
    Curling up right there on the floor, Cecilia began to rock herself in place and sob uncontrollably. She screamed and clawed at her own ears as if the action would restore what was lost. As if it would stop the pain in her ribs and hers. As if it would bring back her hearing.
    Whatever it was. The thing. The creature. It had stopped moving. Stopped advancing. Even if it hadn't, Cecilia couldn't imagine her response would have been much different.
    After all, she couldn't hear.
    And so she cried.
    She stayed like that for an indiscernible period of time; eyes shut down and hot tears running down her face. Body convulsing through heaving sobs and soft wails.
    But she also listened.
    She listened for anything; trying to hear anything else but that high pitched ringing sound. She didn't care past that.
    Just stop the ringing. Stop the pain.
    In anger, she kicked the gun at her feet. It clattered away.
    It was that clatter that was the first new noise she was able to register.
    Her sobbing stopped and she opened her eyes.
    Reaching out, she grabbed the butt of the discarded pulse rifle and dragged it back. The rifle clattered back along the grooves of the floor and she openly gasped with joy. She pushed it back and forth a few more times just to be sure she heard it right.
    Soon, more things returned. She could hear the klaxon now. Its wailing scream high in the distance. After that, she could make out the sound of running and things moving through the halls above. She could hear a few terrified screams.
    Slowly but surely, the ringing abated.
    Throughout it all, the the thing never moved.
    Cecilia let out a long, controlled sigh, followed by a much less controlled whimper, and pushed herself from the floor.

    Cecilia had considered taking the gun with her, but quickly elected not to. She'd rather have her hands open and her ability to move around unimpeded. More importantly, she couldn't bear the thought of firing the thing again.
    The sound was just too much to handle. She'd rather deal with trying to run from one of those monsters.
    She had no idea what the creatures were that were loose on the station. They were big and ran around on all fours. They had great and terrible claws that raked grooves into the floor in shrieks of metal and they roared with a fierceness that made lions sound like pussycats. They seemed to be able to climb the walls and ceilings as easy as they walked on the floor.
    And they were loose.
    Cecilia could hear them running around above her. They moved like rhinos; thumping and galloping and slamming through whatever was in their way.
    It made her glad to be down here. Wherever here was.
    More then once she worried the floor would give way or she'd find one hiding in a shadow somewhere. But the moment never came.
    While she initially thought she was in some sort of a hallway, Cecilia quickly realized that there weren't any doors. After a quick walk, she realized that there was some kind of piping or conduits running along the wall and she had to squeeze through a few areas to keep going. Doing so was agony with her broken ribs.
     All the while, there was a vague, nauseating smell that seemed to waft in little puffs of breeze.
    Perhaps a maintenance tunnel?
    As time droned on, she was surprised to find that the world above got quieter and quieter. She groped her way along the tunnel and the sounds of galloping on metal started to fade. The screams stopped. The klaxon dulled into a soft wail. If she strained her ears against the growing silence, she started to hear a rustling sound. Almost like-
    Cecilia, following the noise, took a step forward and found nothing to catch her. She fell forward and her head slammed hard into cold meta. She immediately lost what little footing she had and slid forward.
    Down.
    Her screams echoed off metal as she slid down the slick, angled tube towards infinite.

Lost - Part 1

    Bbmpbbmpbbmp

   “mmnyh”

    Bubbmpbubbmpbubbmp

    “Uhh...wha?”

    Bubbabumpbubbabumpbubbabump
    "Wher-?"
    All at once, reality seemed to explode into existence in a flash of pain and sound and smoke. Cecilia's senses burned and she found herself on the ground, clutching ribs that were alight in agony and seemed to have a bit more give than regular, non-broken bones should have.
    Around her, the world wailed.
    A klaxon screamed its warning for all who would hear, barely drowning out the sound of men and women screaming, boots stomping on hard metal, pulse rifles firing, sounding like a jackhammer on a steel drum, and the roar of something monstrous and unknown in the distance. All of it was muffled even more by the crackling booming of fire.
    She sat up quickly and screamed.
    "Ellen?! Kera?!"
    She couldn't remember what happened or how she got here, but she knew she wanted to find her sisters and quickly. Had they been with her? Were they ok?
    It didn't matter though. She had bigger issues.
    All around her, an inferno raged. The fire licked at her skin and she had no idea how to get away from it. Each time she breathed in her lungs were being seared with smoke and she felt herself coughing and hacking; an action that was getting progressively faster and therefore worse as she began to hyperventilate. The world seemed to close in around her as the panic threatened to send her over the edge.
    "ELLEN?! KERA?!"
    tunktunktunktunk!
    Someone running towards her?
    "Ma'am!" a voice screamed barely audible over the roar of the fire. "This way! Come this way! We have to get you out of here!"
    A marine.
    "I can't!" she said quickly, the panic only taking a firmer grip. "I-I can't!"
    It was all she could muster. The world burned with fire between them.
    "You have to! Come on! Please! Just run towards me. Run as fast as you can. I'll be here to catch you!"
    Her throat tightened and, despite the blazing inferno around her, Cecilia's palms went cold and sweaty. She shut her eyes tight.
    "Alright." she said, her shaking voice betraying her. "On three."
    "On three." the marine agreed.
    "One." she began.
    "Two."
    Before she could muster a 'Three' there was an echoing crash and a screeching roar as the metal of the hall bent and screamed in defiance of a preternatural force. The marine screamed back, firing the pulse rifle at something. They were silenced a moment later and all fear of fire was wiped away as the marine was slammed into Cecilia's chest, thrown like a ragdoll, sending them both sprawling backwards. The combined force and weight sent them clean past the flames and down a chasm that was open in the floor.
    Cecilia hit the ground below with a sobbing cry as the marine, dead weight, crushed her with their bulk; broken ribs burned and stabbed in protest of the pressure.
    "Get off!" she yelled and pushed against the dead marine. "Please get off!"
    Above her, she could hear the thing. It scrabbled and moved across the metal of the hall above with the sound of someone raking a dozen pickaxes against a grated chalkboard. It seemed to blend into a terrible crescendo of oncoming death with the klaxon as she desperately clawed at the body that weighed her down.
    She kept pushing, kept trying to get the corpse off of her shattered ribs and weak body. She felt the load soften slightly as the heavy pulse rifle clattered down next to her.
   The creature was just crawling through chasm she had fallen through, growling softly under the klaxon and the claws, when she managed to free herself from under the dead marine and scuttled backwards in terror.
    Cecilia only escaped back an inch or two before she hit the wall.
    Above, the creature seemed to realize she was trapped. It made its way slowly, carefully, down to the next level; it's growl growing into twittering, high pitch that reminded her of a cat stalking a bird.
    She shut her eyes tight, sobbing.
    Her hands fell to the pulse rifle on the ground beside her.
    She had never used one before. No official training of any kind. But she knew the concept of a gun. You point it at something and pull the trigger. Hopefully you have the right end pointed towards what you want to die. 
    The creature roared. Maybe it recognized the threat of the gun. Maybe it was just done playing with her. It scrabbled forward with that same high-pitched, gut wrenching sound of claws on metal.
    Cecilia grabbed the weapon's stock, raised the gun, and squeezed the trigger; praying it was even vaguely pointed in the right direction.
    Pulse rifle's are so much louder when you're the one firing them.