AVP
" The trio of marines crept silently down the still corridor. All around them, lights flickered on and off at apparently random intervals. Each of them illuminating the darkness momentarily, casting strange alien™ shapes across the walls and floor.
Lights' flashing on as power was directed into their hearts, and off as that same power was redirected to another system.
Ahead of the marines, a single huge spotlight, flared every thirty seconds or so, bathing the area below it in a blanket of crisp, white light.
It was towards this that they headed.
Upon their arrival into this part of the ship, it seemed as if someone was watching them, trailing behind them, but always staying out of sensor and eye range.
And their equipment had been screwed up as-well, O'Neil's motion sensor had been acting strangely, telling him that they were surrounded by hundreds of life forms one minute, and the next, saying that they were alone.
And now these damned lights had gone out.
Flickering, constant flickering, the flashes irritating O'Neil's eyes, like someone was flashing them directly into his optic-nerve.
It was almost painful to keep his eyes ahead.
They were the second part of a strike-force that had been sent in to investigate the apparent destruction of one of the company's deep-space medi vessels.
Why anyone would want a deep space medi ship was not apparent to O'Neil, but, obviously someone had thought it important, or else he wouldn't be here.
When they had finally arrived at the coordinates, they had found the 'Saviour Of Andromodea' drifting through the stars, lolling lazily on its side, with it's engines off and all its windows dark.
So far, they had found no trace of the crew and, even stranger, the ships computer was operational.
O'Neil was beginning to suspect things were not as they seemed.
Click – " beta team, check in. " he whispered into his helmets Comm unit.
Click – " beta team here. " replied the machine.
Click – " Bishop, report status."
Click - " no evidence of the crew yet sir, the Mess and Crew Quarters appear undamaged and lived in,
I suggest beta head for engineering to check out the engines and the central core. "
Click - " request denied, converge at the main bridge, maybe we can access the computer memory
from there, and find out what's happened here."
Click – " aye sir, Bishop out. "
Hefting his Pulse Rifle, Captain Robert O'Neil turned to his companions, and motioned for them to follow him.
Glancing at Kowalski, Hepburn checked the ammo status on her minigun. Satisfied, she moved after O'Neil.
Kowalski, turning round, stared into the black behind him, his blue pupils expanding slightly as he tried to make out the shapes of the consoles and equipment.
For a moment, he was sure he could hear a faint clicking noise coming from the stillness. He strained his ears, trying to make it out and identify where it was coming from.
Just as soon as it started, it stopped.
Testing the weight of his Flame Thrower, he hurried after O'Neil and Hepburn.
The three of them crept slowly, but surely along the silent corridor, for what seemed like days, comforted only by the steady, rhythmic pulse of the motion detector.
Their footsteps still echoing long after them, Kowalski entered the bridge first, rolling to the left of the door, and bringing up his weapon. Hepburn walked confidently in, her Minigun strapped securely across her chest, and her hand underneath the heavy weapon, supporting the ammo cache. O'Neil stalked in, Pulse Rifle holstered.
Click – " beta, report position. "
" ffffzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… "
Click - " beta, report position. "
" fffzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… "
Click - " beta, Bishop, where are you? "
Nothing.
Click - " Bishop, report status. "
Still nothing.
Click - " Bishop, can you hear me? "
Then,
Click – " Bish...Bishop…Bishop he…here. "
Click – " Bishop, give me your position. "
Click – " tea…tea…team….t…fffzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… "
The Comm fell silent again.
Click – " ..ffzz…all dea…dead…fzz…repeat….the whole….whole….team….down…fzzz…dow….pr…fzzzzzzz… "
Click – "…zzzz…appeared out…out of no…where…get…fzz…get…out of here…fzzzz….it kn….it knows….positio….n…are…fzzzzzzzz "
Click – " Who? Who knows what? Who attacked you? Bishop? "
Click – " ffzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… "
Click – " fzz…dator…fzzz…it's a….a predator ™…fzzzz….repeat…pre…. "
Click – " Confirm Bishop, did you say a Predator ™ attacked you? Confirm godammit "
From the Comm system there came a slow rumble, then, what sounded like an old pen being clicked.
" clickity, click, click, click, clickity, click, aaaaarrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh. "
Click – " Bishop! Bishop respond dammit! "
The Comm unit fell silent once again.
" Shit. " whispered O'Neil.
" Sir?, should we assist them sir? " Kowalski asked nervously, dreading the answer he would get.
O'Neil never heard him, he was already halfway out the door, his rifle banging against the metallic frame, ringing in the dark.
He stopped.
" We're leaving, Beta is KIA, assume formation; Kowalski you take point. Hepburn, bring up the rear. " his voice shaking in anger, or was it fear?
Their ship was docked at the end of the corridor, beyond the darkness.
Their hands steady on their weapons, the marines moved surely down the corridor, O'Neil's eyes never leaving the motion tracker, just waiting for it to make its resounding beep to indicate a presence in their vicinity. That single beep telling him instantly the position and range to his death.
He didn't have to wait long.
The sensor in his clasped hand vibrated slightly when it emitted its nerve-shattering beep.
Drawing his weapon, and powering it to full readiness, O'Neil tried to remain calm, to take his mind off his dread and fear, anything to keep his wits and head clear.
Hepburn stopped in her tracks, raising her weapon, she fired off a round into the black behind them. The bullets ricocheting off the metallic walls, leaving the smell of spent gun-oil in the air.
O'Neil turned and looked questionably at her.
" Sorry sir, thought I saw movement. "
Kowalski came up beside O'Neil.
"How? How could you see anything n this fucking darkness? "
While he said that, a faint red triangle of light played across the back of his scalp, tracing the contours of his helmet.
" K, get down! " O'Neil shouted, diving to the side and bringing up his rifle.
" wahh? " exclaimed Kowalski, spinning round quickly so that the triangle blinded him.
Fumbling with his harness, Kowalski tried to bring up the Flame Thrower, the harness jammed.
Staring frantically around, Kowalksi screamed as he saw something move before him.
A flash of blue tore through the air, stopping time in it's tracks.
The shot hit Kowalski directly at the base of his hairline.
On hitting bone, his face fragmented, and was ripped explosively from the skull.
His nose, eyes and forehead vanished in a wet red mist, a shrill scream came from his still functioning mouth, as blood fountained from the hole in the head.
Already dead, Kowalski's hand jerked up in its death throes, hitting the Napalm Canister attached to his weapon, and detonating it.
The flames ripped through the corridor, illuminating everything they touched in their fiery storm, eating up all the oxygen hungrily as they searched for more and more air.
O'Neil, crouched behind a console, shielded his eyes and face from the sight, and wiped some of Kowalski's brain off his visor.
Glancing up quickly, his eyes locked on Kowalski's still form, the stump of his neck still staining the floor, the blood congealing in a small pool where his head should have been.
" Hepburn! Hepburn! Where are you? " O'Neil screamed, his voice breaking.
" Hepburn, respond! "
Nothing.
" My God. " O'Neil said to the night.
The flames from Kowalski's last act of defense had died out by now, but their aftermath still illuminated the area around O'Neil, letting him see his position.
He span round, searching for Hepburn, but she was no-where to be seen.
Seeing a form on the ground, he moved cautiously towards it, walking.
It was Hepburn.
Her legs were missing and one of her eye's had been gouged out.
Blood had collected in the hole where her eye should have been, and was already turning black with infection.
Holding down his sickness, O'Neil grabbed for his Pulse Rifle.
He found it lying on the ground, thrown across the corridor by the explosion.
Crouching down, he moved towards it.
Reaching out his gloved hand to the handle, he never even saw or felt the spear slam into the back of his glove, until he found himself looking at his hand embedded against the floor.
Two meters from him.
Blood was gouting out of his wrist, as his veins and arteries tried to supply blood to a hand that was no longer there.
Looking up sharply, he saw the outline of something, which seemed to add depth to the twisted darkness.
A glint of silver.
A sharp intake of breath.
A quick sound of metal slicing through flesh.
A groan.
His free hand.felt down his body, to his abdomen
In the new darkness, he felt something wet hit his hand.
And another.
And another.
Soon his whole hand was filled with what felt like a pile of writhing snakes.
Spilling over the sides, the snakes fell to the ground with a dull, wet thud.
He felt his energy seeping from him.
Sleepy.
So very sleepy.
A multitude of lights appeared before him. Singing to him. Inviting him.
He laughed.
Maybe he could have a little sleep here.
Then he could go home.
Then he could go home.
In the ensuing darkness, the Predator watched the marine slump over, a smile spread across his face.
The Predator cocked its head to one side, staring.
Holstering it's Speargun, it made a clicking noise.
A faint clicking could be heard far off in the darkness.
Replying.
Turning round, a human head bouncing gently against it's waist, the face locked in an expression of terror, the Predator padded off into the gloom, towards the clicking.