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  A long, numb moment, yet only within a few seconds. To my side marines phased through, much as if rushing by a corner. A spread and search pattern ensued. They were frosty. I was pulp amongst stone.

  A lot of chatter bombarded the radio. However, it faded just as soon as it came. A genuine voice rang in my ear.

  Mr. Samsa: "Where’d it come from, Jack?"

Smiling Joe: "You check him for head wounds?"

  Amiss the marines desperately looking for signs across the walls, a cold metal hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to highlight on Mr. Samsa.

  Mr. Samsa: "Jack, where did it come from? Where did you see it?"

  I could barely remember English. I had to trace my mind back...

  Oil. A buckshot into the brow. It vanished; it vanished with the flash of the muzzle. It vanished with the coming of the light.

  He shook me a little.

  Mr. Samsa: "Jack, where did it come from?"

  "Darkness." I had barely muttered it. I was in shock, and it showed through. Johnson started to chuckle. Samsa silenced him over the radio.

  Mr. Samsa: "Where was it, Jack?"

  He spoke louder now. I gestured the best I could toward the larger conduit above our heads, running against the down-curving ceiling.

  "There... I think."

  His machine gun corked to face the vent, followed by his eyes. It seemed for a moment that the gun had a mind of its own.

  Mr. Samsa: "Ashura, what’s up?"

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Just hold on, Darkens is running a map check."

  Samsa’s eyes didn’t waver. They stared cold into the darkest spot amongst the roofing pipeline: the torn ventilation grate.

  Smiling Joe: "I thought our people are supposed to do that before dumping us off here."

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "They did. I’ve spotted a bunch of missing data."

  Smiling Joe: "You mean our maps are bad?"

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Hold on questions. Darkens, talk to me."

  Darkens: "That vent runs to the atmospheric processing."

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Is that all?"

  Darkens: "Well, processing breaks off towards the Cold Storage and the Youkja System hives. We’ve secured those hives, right?"

  Johnson: "Comm., I don’t think you’ve been keeping us informed.

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "We have two hives out of three. I think the third might be in processing."

  In every Frontiersmen I could see, I noticed a subtle change in body language; the kind that suggests distress.

  Johnson: "You ‘think’? What do you mean ‘you think?’"

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Hold on a second."

  There was a long moment of silence over the radio. The lack of Kharaa was unsettling enough, but now the commander seemed to be avoiding important intelligence. Many of the Frontiersmen had questions, but held them back out of anticipation.

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Alright, I see what’s happening. Samsa, take your group back to Cold Storage."

  Mr. Samsa: "Alright."

  Somewhat reluctantly, Samsa gestured his platoon back through the phase gate. Two of the soldiers remained behind in the base.

  Johnson: "Command-"

  He was over spoken.

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "-This level is secure."

  Johnson: "What the hell, secure? Since when was Kharaa dropping from the ceiling secure? Where is their third hive, commander?"

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "Shut up, private."

  Johnson: "Fuck you, commander."

  Smiling Joe: "Hey, watch your language, shorty."

  Johnson: "Fuck you, too."

  C.C. - Ashura Demon: "That’s enough. Samsa’s squad, Sieges to be build in Cold Storage in about 30 seconds. Once that’s done, go to the Youkja System and do the same thing, then phase back to main base. Group 2 and 3, I want you to walk home. Don’t use the phase gates. I want both groups to do a light sweep on their way. I’ll explain the situation when everybody gets back."

  They carried out their orders, off in the distance I had yet to see. The two men still with me shrugged it off. One casually paced the room and the other rested himself against the wall beside the doorway. Trying to recover, I joined him. His name was Seph. He didn’t seem to mind me much.

  Seph: "So you’re a reporter?"

  "Journalist."

  Seph: "I think I read something of yours once. It was kind of miserable."

That was an understatement.   "Well, I can’t please everyone."

  I forced a smile to show that I said it friend-like. Having contributed my social requirement, the back my head found the wall, and my eyes found the walkway high to my side. It met the wall directly above the ground-level door. Somehow, my intuitive thinking led to the following question.

  "Where does that catwalk go?"

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