Tsuchinoko wanted to say she was alarmed at the sight of the lights beyond the horizon, but at this point everyone had gotten used to them.
She thought it was funny, sitting at the maw of a cave. From her dark sanctuary she was shielded from the wrath of a harsh desert sun, one that she didn't mind too much after living here all her whole life.
But here it was getting dark, and with the sun hugging the horizon it was bound to get cold soon. Tsuchinoko wasn't a fan of the cold, leading her to tuck her hood tighter over her blue hair in silent apprehension. Twilight rays dipped the tips of mountains in gold as the rolling sands yearned to match the color of the deep, dark sky up above. There were stars where the sunlight faded, stars stretching from the peak of the Sandstar Mountain all the way to the shallow cracks at her feet.
But those lights on the horizon - past the plains and beyond the ocean - those weren't stars. They couldn't be stars. Not with the way they moved, the manner they flew and the way they popped with fire at the end of their line. Stars didn't leave trails.
She wanted to explain that to Sand Cat down by the sands, but Sand Cat quickly grew more interested in the Japari Bun she was eating and wasn't much of an eager listener. Tsuchinoko had to talk with someone… she couldn't be the only one to be invested in those lights every night for how long now? Days? A week?
What were they? Where did they come from? Why were they there?
The confines of her cave bore no answers, leading the snake-girl to sigh. She was always bound to deal with these things on her own, wasn't she? That wasn't going to be a problem. She'd deal with this in her head, by herself. She always did. Why change now?
That thought led the hooded girl to think of solutions: how would she solve the mystery of the lights?
The professors could help. They knew everything, from all the animals in Japari Park to how to read a textbook from cover to cover without a dictionary, they were the ones people came to if they had questions. But if she asked them, would it really be her own discovery?
Tsuchinoko toyed with the thought as she lied down on the cold, hard stone beneath her.
Stone…
There was an area in Japari Park made of stone. A city, she thought it was called once. Tsuchinoko did her research and knew that once upon a time, it was home to a plethora of animals - but now? The fracturing structures and plant growth made life too difficult to be comfortable.
Still, while people didn't live there, relics of the past lingered on. Relics of humanity, the species rumored to wield lights and harness the power of the earth.
If there was a place to start looking into clues for the horizon lights, the city was a good place to look.
Tsuchinoko couldn't help but smile. At first light, that's where she would go. But for now…
A yawn stretched from her chest to her lips, bringing the girl to rest her weary head.
The night was young, and tomorrow was a long way away. She'd need all the rest she could get to make the trip in one day.
It's June, 2022.
Japari Park's nice this time of year, or so they told us back on the ship. I've been around long enough to know that it costs an arm and a leg to trust the guys at the top, and I sure as hell wasn't the one paying to find out.
We packed our bags an hour ago. I didn't have much to bring but neither did anyone else, even Farragut, the poor bastard. Before the war he'd always take a set of these Pokémon trading cards from home and stick them in his bag, calling it good luck or something. Everyone laughed at that, even Sergeant Dalloway, which was a first because I've never really seen him show expression like that before. Still, he had to leave those cards behind in Seattle when the celliens came, and in a way, that's when we all stopped laughing. Not much got out of there in the end.
"You alright?"
Farragut nudged my shoulder, worry in his eyes. Blinking twice, even I couldn't believe how out of focus I was.
We were here to reinforce the main invasion force, not to take the brunt of any action. I had trouble sleeping last night at the thought of our overall objective - the destruction of what we suspect to be to queen of the cellien hive mind.
Lots were still unknown and I wasn't well informed, but I did know that this whole ordeal could be the one to finish this worldwide struggle. That meant a lot, especially after seeing so much carnage back home.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." I nodded, fidgeting with the helmet that was a tinge too tight for me. "Just been thinking, that's all."
It was hard to talk with one another over the engine of the SH-60 helicopter we were in, which was why we had headphones cupped over our ears for communication. All twelve of us were crammed into two rows of seats, each facing one another in the dim light of morning that could make anyone feel drowsy.
His words were laced in static, but somewhere between the lines I could hear a compassion that reminded me of who we used to be. Who we all still were. Right?
"Oh, shut up, Roebuck." It was Farragut teasing me again that led me to rub my eyes, careful to keep a handle on my M4. Roebuck was my father's last name. It was weird to hear it as my own, to say the least. "You're… thinking? Gee, guys, get a load of this!"
Strapped into a seat across from me, Dalloway, our platoon sergeant, spoke up. "We're all thinking, Farragut. Leave the man alone."
The respectable sergeant was beloved by all of us, and not even Farragut wanted to get on his bad side. The silent code of comradery brought all twelve of us closer than brothers over the past year, especially when the families of our own were thousands of miles away. For privates Quincy and Leonard, we were the the only guys they got.
"I hear the reason that we got called in so soon was because all the marines got wiped out. Buddy of mine's on the Ronald Reagan." Farragut said as a matter of fact, referring to the aircraft carrier flagship that accompanied our invasion fleet.
"Hey, just shut up with that crap." Someone spoke for all of us who had never been in a real landing before. "Not needed, Farragut."
"Just saying." The lowly Private shrugged. "You know what happened last time we tried coming to Japari Park."
I shuddered at the thought. It was censored like the rest of the information on Japari Park, but it was impossible to keep word from spreading of Operation Righteous Resolve, the attempted special forces raid on the islands in 2016. The evacuation of the island, which might as well have been a lifetime ago, left everyone in the dark as to the cellien threat's composition. 70% of the guys were said to have lost their lives in the first week, with the month-long operation concluding with a botched withdrawal. All that for what, a few pictures?
That didn't fill me with much confidence. No one wanted a repeat of Righteous Resolve, but such a weighty failure wasn't a reassurement in the slightest.
"November one-niner to baseplate," the helicopter pilot radioed back to the Ronald Reagan, and everyone could overhear it over our communications network. "Transports one through ten are five minutes out from the drop point. Interrogative, can you contact November one-eight? They're not responding to hails, over."
"Baseplate to one-niner, one-eight's communications should be five by five, what's the issue, ov-"
The grainy voice of our commander was cut off my an enormous explosion off to the helicopter's right. A shockwave running through our machine forced me to clutch the straps holding me in, the rattling beast groaning in protest.
"Woah, one-eight's been hit! One-eight's hit!"
Hit? With what? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance, and even then, how could one of those creatures get so close without us knowing?
"Jesus…" the pilot trailed off. The burning heap of helicopter plummeted to the ocean below, breaking into pieces that scattered beneath the waves. "Any idea of what took them down?"
"N-nothing, I got nothing!" The copilot stammered. Flicking their surface search radar on and off returned nothing, and their radar warning receiver indicated that nothing man made was trying to target them. "I'm looking around, just keep an eye out for something, anything!"
Chatter flooded the rear of the vehicle as all twelve of us dove into confusion. The sergeant didn't have anything to reassure the men, but even he knew that he couldn't calm us down. Tucking his head low, I had an idea of what to expect.
"One-niner to one-three, do you see anything?" The pilot brought the vehicle to descend in altitude, hoping to skim the water and mask themselves against the surface.
"Negative, no, nothing." The pilot on the other end was trying not to panic, but the heaving in their breath betrayed them. "One-four's turning back, the bastard."
I grimaced, focusing on keeping my own breathing together. I didn't know much, but anyone could see that collapsing organization would spell doom for any ground operation.
"One-three to one-niner, do you see that? Looks to be a dark splotch off to your… bearing zero-three-zero. Flying maybe fifty feet above the surface, what is that?"
"Are those fuckin' celliens?" Our copilot stammered. "Oh hell, we're in for it now."
"Report to Baseplate that we're feet dry, intercepted by a group of fly-guys to the north."
Celliens still couldn't be detected by radar unless they had assumed a metallic form, even when in a group. Limiting ourselves to visual or other close range detection systems ruined our capacity to fight on our own terms along with rendering half our weapons obsolete. It shouldn't come as a surprise to know we've been on the back foot this whole time, and right now we're really paying for it.
"Fuck it, drop 'em off now!" The man at the controls pulled us up and around, coasting at terrain altitude with the hand of a careful and experienced pilot.
The windows on the side of our helicopter were hard to see out of with everyone crammed in tight and the maneuvers yanking my head around, but I could see how we're were right above the trees. We had finally come over land, rushed past an old harbor and entered the outskirts of some forlorn metropolis. Sunrise harbor, it was called… it led to an area lost to time.
It was so surreal, seeing a city in such disrepair. Many years had passed since humans wandered these streets. Buildings without windows, faded paint, vines around signposts and leaves between the concrete as far as the eye can see. Even the streets had been cracked open as tree roots were free to grow beneath them. Once upon a time this place was home to both people and what was rumored to be animal people - but the cover up hid all the facts.
Was this what would happen to us, too? New York, Los Angeles, Hartford, Houston… the places we pledged to defend were under attack now. I'd never let our homes look like this, never. Over my dead body - that's what I promised my father before stepping out the old front door for the last time. Well, I hope it wasn't the last time.
"We're in the thick of it now, boys!" The pilot shouted, bringing me back to reality as he did whatever he could to keep cool. That wasn't easy with a swarm of those celliens catching up to us. The other helicopters swept through the streets, weaving between skyscrapers in an effort to lose the celliens following us.
We were not supposed to be dropped off here and everyone knew it. But what choice did we have?
The rotary-winged beast lowered us to the roof of what seemed to be an antiquated parking garage. It was devoid of cars, with the last few strewn about being rusted to kingdom come. The vast, exposed space was a lucky find for us, and in no time the doors swung open.
Piling out without a second thought, our team flooded through the doors and ducked low, spreading out as the last man stepped off. I felt my body boil as I crouched low beside Farragut, eyes on the sky.
"See you later, November." Sergeant Dalloway radioed our ride, signaling that we were all off safely. "Until next time."
"Ditto." They replied, ascending towards the sun - only to be engulfed by the swarm of celliens.
It was hard to make out individual creatures as they tackled the SH-60 with what looked to be a mammoth-sized gut punch. Some circular, some with stringy appendages, others had claws and teeth - but they all smashed through our helicopter right over our heads.
There wasn't even a scream. Just an explosion, with chunks and pieces crumbling out of the sky.
"Go, downstairs!" Dalloway barked, waving us all towards an old stairwell. We would've taken the car ramp, but it had long since caved in. "Now!"
No one thought twice about the order, and in no time, the whole group rushed into the musky garage, escaping the carnage above us.
As the second to last to pile down, I stole a glance of the other helicopters further down the street. The celliens caught up with them in no time at all and I admit that I was too afraid to see the rest.
Safely a level below the surface, we took a moment to catch our breath. The interior of the structure was no better off than the exterior with the air cool, almost smelling damp.
My footsteps echoed over ancient concrete as we set up a perimeter at the base of the stairs, everyone instinctively taking a position to cover any angles that could betray a cellien's approach.
"Everyone here?" The sergeant barreled down the stairs, pointing at us as he counted for attendance. "Alright."
"The fuck was that?" Farragut demanded, crouched with his weapon pointed into the unknown. "We just-"
"Oh, shut up already!" Someone spat from the rear.
"That was a lot, I know. But we're safe." The sergeant wasn't having any of it, but he could tell that everyone was on edge. "And we have a mission to do."
"A mission? We're here to regroup with the main force. Where even are they? Not here, that's where." Farragut never failed to make my blood curdle. This really wasn't needed.
"Take five." The sergeant decisively ignored Farragut. "When those flying fucks pass, I'm heading to the roof to radio command. They should know by now that everyone's gone."
Dalloway's words… everyone's... gone.
I didn't want to believe it was true, and it was easy to see otherwise. We had all been grouping together on the deck of the aircraft carrier, mingling, and I even had struck up a conversation with Barry in the sixth squad on what we had wanted to do with our lives. It was nice to get your head out of the game for a bit, forget the facts that we faced Armageddon at the hands of an enemy unknown.
He was a good guy, that's what I remember. Electrical engineer before the draft, and Barry was old enough to by my dad. Two kids without a wife, a home by the 7/11 and very insisting on his boys to perform well in high school. Reminded me on how strict my own father was to me, especially when he said how he regret not giving them the time they deserved. Lots of regrets these days. Regrets for all of us.
He lived out west by San Francisco, the poor guy. Volcanoes and seismic activity around there happened on Sandstar and Cellium before people figured out what was going on.
Still, it's hard to think about what happened to him now. What happened to the people he left behind. Is this how a story ends? How we all end? To be carried on by the people we last spoke to, the ones we last touched… That thought tagged along at the edges of my imagination as the Sergeant spoke up.
He was headed for the roof.
Without another word, we went up the same steps as the ones we escaped down from, shadows from the old world's sun being the last trace of him I saw.
Us left remained in the dark.
Tsuchinoko knew of underground passageways that ran through certain areas in park, most notably around Sunrise Harbor, its amusement park and the old city.
Very few Friends liked the damp confines of what the professors said were once sewers, human made corridors that were used for reasons still unknown to even the brightest minds the park had to cover.
There was a sewer entrance in the savanna, right on the border of the city area.
The morning came and went as a breeze to the snake girl, who passed through the plains and skirted around the jungle to finally make it to the savanna. The path was long and winding to travel on foot, but Tsuchinoko was committed.
On the way she encountered a plethora of other Friends, like Lion, Moose, their armies and many others - all of which were interested as to what drew the desert dweller so far away from her home.
Of course Tsuchinoko did her best to keep to herself. She didn't want anyone to interfere with her plans, and the last thing she wanted was for others to tag along with her.
Unfortunately, her mystery and intrigue might have had the opposite effect. After an encounter with Moose's girls in the plains, Friends in the savanna had an idea of what Tsuchinoko was up to before she even made it there!
If people were talking with one another about her quest, that could be bad. Attention was bad. For all she knew, they might be following her towards danger.
Even then, the mention of horizon lights was enough to draw the attention of other interested Friends to the city. By word of mouth, no less.
Tsuchinoko knew that the sewers would take her there faster than on land. The all consuming dark of the tunnels wouldn't be an issue to the snake, who relied on scent and common sense to navigate.
Whatever lie ahead, whatever facts might arise - anything there would live on past her speculation. Anything of her own discovery.
With other curious minds headed for the same destination, Tsuchinoko had to the the first one there.
The sergeant sulked down the stairs of the parking garage with a firm look that he wore far too often these days.
I was waiting for him, as was everyone else. The silence had been broken by nothing but the sounds of sporadic, futile gunfire further out. People must've survived the celliens. Someone had to. Maybe it was Barry, that poor bastard.
Dalloway gathered us all together, bringing our attention onto him and him alone, perimeter be damned. That's how I knew something was up.
The news no one wanted to hear was true. Our anxieties became a reality as our sergeant confirmed the loss of the infantry.
We were the last organized group out there, aside from the marines, of whom command had lost communications with for several hours now without telling anyone. They sent us out here to die? Into these smoke-choked skies where anything could happen, nothing good of course, thinking that our very lives would be best spent on what might as well have been a lost cause?
Not only that, but the fleet was in the thick of combat. Nothing could be spared to assist in our recovery. Cellien swarms had been pestering the navy all week, coming in close without mercy or the slightest desire for self preservation. Reminiscent of kamikaze strikes, the constant stress forced me through dozens of restless nights.
And here we were. Stranded in a parking garage with a hopeless objective and no way to get home.
This was chaos.
But chaos was our element. Maybe not mine, but Sergeant Dalloway had an idea on what to do. He always did. With an iron fist and a look of steel, we regrouped, stopped chattering about the impossibilities and what couldn't be done, and told us to face the facts.
We still had our guns and we were still able to kick ass. Right?
That's what I kept telling myself as we were made to move out. Downstairs. Deeper into the parking garage. Into the dark.
Nothing good, I thought. Not with the celliens out in force. Not with them fielding such immaculate coordination.
That usually implied the presence of a leader in the area. Their hive mind was crude and even harmless when isolated or without a leader. But in the same way there was a cellien queen somewhere, there were what we called kings. They were like junior officers. I've never seen one for myself, but the thought of such celliens existing terrified me.
A smart bug. Like from starship troopers, I thought. But that was fiction. This was real. The similarities between fact and fiction made my head spin as we formed a column on the ramp.
I took up the rear, sticking close behind the Sergeant and in front of Farragut. I wanted to say that the air was tense, but everything was too surreal to feel true. Too surreal for things to make sense.
Farragut asked me if I was ready, but I couldn't find the right words to respond. Not now, at least.
Sergeant Dalloway huffed. Something about Farragut, as obnoxious as he was, was a consistent variable in all this carnage where familiarity was a luxury.
He gave the order to move out, and that's when we started for the bottom floor. Weaving through old cars, piles of rebar and concrete, and slimy patches of weak ground attracted more attention than keeping my weapon at the ready for an ambush.
Flashlights flicked on as we went deeper down - we didn't have night observation devices, or NODs, because we didn't expect to be out in the night. Shadows played with my imagination as we turned corners, down another ramp and-
The floor below me crumbled. The sudden loss of stable ground beneath my feet led me to open my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Shouts from the others accompanied the sound of collapse. Cracks, debris, the world slipped from my eyes as my weapon was wrenched from my grasp as I plummeted down, down, down…
Until the ground met my rear. Hard.
It was a landing atop jagged concrete, and with that my head, legs, arms and chest broke the wind out from under me as my rifle clattered away.
My eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden influx of darkness before struggling to look up where I fell from. This whole place was deathly black. Light from my weapon's flashlight, off to my side, illuminated an old wall that looked wet to the touch. This whole place chilled my skin and bones to my core.
No heads dared to poke through the hole above. The ground was far too unsteady around it to support someone's weight… damn. It just couldn't last another person, huh.
"Roebuck! Roebuck!" Came the calls.
My squad had broken up, and I could swear that Sergeant Dalloway was telling them to form a perimeter, but my head was still too fuzzy to interpret anything coherent. Did I get a concussion?
"I'm… I'm okay." I struggled to reply, holding myself off the rebar with the use of my forearms.
"We'll, uh…" Sergeant Dalloway's voice rang true, uneasy yet upholding authority. "We'll come for you. Just…"
He sighed.
"Roebuck. We got to move." Pausing for a moment, I wondered how much of him was thinking on the fly and how much was rational thought. "We'll have come to back for you later."
"Later?" I whimpered.
"Yes."
I looked into the dark. What was this place? It might be an old sewer pipe running beneath the city, or it could've been some basement under the parking garage. Either way, it was nowhere anyone wanted to be.
"So hang tight. Stay around here. Try not to move. Are you hurt?" The sergeant asked. Presumably he was worried.
"I'm fine. I'm… fine."
"I promise someone will come back for you. We'll regroup with the marines and let them know what happened around here. Mission comes first. You know this, Roebuck."
"U-understood." I tried to nod, rolling over to retrieve my rifle.
"Good luck." He said down the hole before turning away. "Alright, everyone, let's get it going! Watch out for unstable patches of ground."
What? Only now does he tell us to be careful? This was insane. Ludicrous. Fuck…
"Allen," Farragut paused by the hole. That was my first name, one that no one in the military typically called people by. "I'll remember you."
His last words before walking away were beyond chilling. He'll remember me? Is that supposed to mean I'm dead? I swear, if he's trying to be nice he ought to keep trying. Still… using my first name was odd. I didn't tell people many my name, as there was never a need for it. I suppose it's supposed to mean something. Funny thing is, right now, I can only see whatever that is as something bad.
A minute passed. Two. Three. Four? It wasn't long before I lost track of time. All I know is that their footsteps were gone by the time I got myself together.
It was hard to stand and my rifle was much too short to be used as a crutch. With pain in my back and my legs suffering at the joints, walking a mile was off the agenda.
Damn…
In half an hour, my whole life came to an end.
Everyone's gone. I'm alone. There's… nothing…
It's a funny thought, really. So much in such a short amount of time, so much now while everything else in life had held me by the hand. But here there was no guidance. No sergeant to lead the way.
Just me, my gun and my flashlight. No backpack, but my bulletproof vest had ammo, first aid and some basic tools. Chemlights, a grenade…
Wait. Amidst the dark there was something else.
My vision was coming together and now I could feel my head returning to some semblance of normality. This wasn't a basement, but a long corridor reeking of wet newspaper and old, moist air. Some sort of moss grew out from the sides and in between cracks in the wall, staining the world in a green and grey that didn't mix well in the light of the flashlight.
Deeper down the line, something was reflecting light. It was too far to be illuminated, but two faint specks shone through the dark.
Two faint specks… eyes.
That's when I heard the scream.
And that's when I screamed too.
PRIORITY
FROM COMSEVENTHFLT
TO USS Springfield (SSN 761)
EA RESTRICTED/N02000/
MSGIS/OPERATIONS/
TASKING/COMSEVENTHFLT/
SUBJ/MISSION ASSIGNMENT/
RMKS/1. AREA ASSIGNMENT. SOUTH PACIFIC SOUTH OF LAT 10N.
2. MISSION. OBSERVE 7TH FLEET OPS AGAINST JAPARI ISLANDS. ENGAGE AND DESTROY CELLIEN "ONE EYE" BEFORE SUPPORTING OPERATIONS.
4. COMMAND. TACTICAL CONTROL EXERCISED BY CTF 74.
5. RULES OF ENGAGEMENT. WEAPONS TIGHT. PID SUBSURFACE CONTACTS.
6. OTHER. BIOLOGICS INCLUDE POTENTIAL FOR "FRIENDS" SEE NOTICE FOR DETAILS. CELLIEN "ONE EYE" IS LOCAL "KING" CELLIEN RESPONSIBLE FOR OP. RR 2016 FAILURE. HYPER INTELLIGENT. ON OPERATION FAILURE RETURN TO NORFOLK BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. MAINTAIN EMCOM. ON NORFOLK LOSS CONTINUE TO HARASS ENEMY AT YOUR DISCRETION. DEFEAT OF "ONE EYE" IS KEY TO SUCCESSFUL PREVENTION OF HUMANITY FROM BECOMING ENDANGERED SPECIES./
BT
=== Message Break ===
IMMEDIATE
FROM CTF 74
TO USS Springfield (SSN 761)
EA RESTRICTED/N02000/
MSGID/INTELLIGENCE SUPPORT/CTF74/
SUBJ/OP DATA/
RMKS/1. REPORTS FROM FLEET OPERATIONS REPORT LANDING TO BE MET WITH UNPRECEDENTED RESISTANCE AND COORDINATION NEVER BEFORE SEEN IN COMBAT. UNTENABLE LOSSES. GROUND FORCES TO WITHDRAW.
2. "ONE EYE" CONFIRMED IN CONTACT WITH FLEET ALONGSIDE CELLIUM FORMED SURFACE SHIPS. BE ADVISED THAT FRIENDLY UNITS ARE WEAPONS FREE AND MAY TARGET YOU./
BT
PRIORITY
FROM AUTHOR
TO READER (FFN)
EA RESTRICTED/N02000/
MSGIS/STORY/
SUBJ/THANKS FOR READING/
RMKS/1. IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS CONCERNS OR COMMENTS I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR THEM. HOPE YOU ENJOYED, AUTHOR SENDS./
BT