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STORY
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For the first moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d survived the phase. Everything was backwards. The lights were black, and the shadows danced around in beams. I stood there in my confusion, before an armored hand slammed against my back.
"Get off the damn portal!"
I fell forward. As my hands braced against the cold steel ground, I realized that I was very much alive. There were flashlights waving about. We were in the dark.
"What the hell’s wrong with your armor, man?"
A bright flicker. In a moment, I see the small ring of light shining down upon me, and a blur of darkness behind it.
"Ho-ly damn. Who the hell is this?"
I heard static chatter coming from inside his helmet, though I still could not see him. My best guess was that somebody answered him.
"I’m a journalist," I added, probably louder than I had to. The light just wavered there for a moment.
The dream ended as soon as the facility lights came on. I remembered where I was. I felt the cold air from days of filtering, with no one around to breath it. I noticed the phase booths. I noticed the armory. I noticed the marines looking up into the arched ceiling. One by one, the flashlights dimmed. That is, except for the one shining down on my face.
"You can turn that off now." He didn’t appear to be listening.
"You gunna’ answer him, civi?"
"What?"
"Switch on your headset."
Before they phased me through, I was equipped with the standard infantry body armor. However, Lieutenant Bagley seemed very worried about the security issues I presented. Not only was I only vaguely trained in any of the military hardware, but the contaminated station might also prove to have population-sensitive material onboard. In other words, information the sponsoring corporation wouldn’t want leaked to the press. So, I was denied military-grade helmet ware. Instead, they issued me a civilian headset. Originally, they were meant for use with evacuees. So far, there hadn’t been any. The Kharaa always kill everyone onboard long before the Frontiersmen arrive.
I switched it on.
A panel flipped down over my right eye. I could hear what was going on. Not only that, but I could tell who was saying it, and where they were. A name displayed across the bottom of the screen each time someone spoke. If they were nearby, an emblem appeared above their heads. There was a small targeting point, which wasn’t visually disruptive. If I placed it over someone, I got their name.
The flashlight clicked off. I looked up at a Frontiersman named Darkens.
Darkens: "What’s with the jacket, civi? Alien appetizer?"
"It’s my utility belt."
Darkens: "You wearing armor under that?"
"Yes." I wore my leather jacket over the armor. I can’t recall a decent moment, in public anyway, where I didn’t have it with me. It was my trademark.
An explosion to my left. I flinched, but it was something normal, as Darkens was laughing at me. I looked over to see what had happened. There was a small structure, like a metal shoebox, directly to my side. It had not been there before. In a moment, I received my first order:
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Build structure at waypoint, civi."
By the time I remembered what to do, Darkens had already placed my hand on the structure. I heard crackles inside the machine as it began constructing itself. Darkens and another grunt named "Smiling Joe" put their armored palms to it as well. It seemed to accelerate the process. Someone else was standing down the way.
Smiling Joe: "Smiling Joe wants to know what Jack’s doing here."
Smiling Joe was one of the few grunts I actually got to meet in the previous months. He was a dark man with a deep voice.
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "You know what you’re doing, civi?"
"Yes, I do, and my name’s Jack. Eastman."
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Whatever."
I considered remarking colorfully, but Darkens swerved the tension.
Darkens: "Jack Eastman... the Jacketman."
Smiling Joe: "Leave it to Dark to break Joe’s record."
Darkens: "What, the Samsa record?"
Johnson: "Mr Samsa," the person at the end of the room added. He had a snotty voice.
Darkens: "You might want to stand back, Jack."
"What?" As I asked, the device finished construction. A metal beam proceeded to fly up out from the side, smacking me in the face. I fell over backwards as the beam came upright. It separated into a satellite dish. An observatory.
Johnson was laughing so hard his voice crackled over the communicator. I was hoping he’d fall over. He’d have a hell of a time standing back up.
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Shut the hell up, Johnson. Civi, build this. You three, head here. Johnson leads."
Another structure dropped. It was round and large, something like a phase gate. Well, it was a phase gate. The waypoint icon appeared on my HUD above it.
I was late on the instinct to know my surroundings. The Command Chair was up on a catwalk, in a small control booth suspended from the middle of the ceiling. Ladders went up to the catwalk on either end of the room. The cieling came down to the floor on the right side, in a slant. The opposite wall, where the cieling began descending, housed the only two entrances: One large door on the ground level, and a door directly above it connecting to the catwalk. Basically, the room looked like a small shuttle hanger.
It hit me that there were only three others around, discounting the commander. Not only that, but they’d be leaving me.
"Where’s everyone else?"
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Following orders."
I took the hint and put my hand against the phase gate. I’ll admit it was thrilling. For the senior Frontiersmen, I must have looked like some little kid, finally getting his adult responsibilities. In a lot of ways, it was exactly that.
I’d soon discover why it was an adult responsibility.
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Disclaimer
Monster is © Edan Koch. The Universe in which it takes place is based upon Natural-Selection. All characters and locations are fictional. Any association with actual persons or places is coincidental.
Natural-Selection and all artwork, screenshots, text and code associated with it are © Charles G. Cleveland, 2001.