PART TWO
–THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS–

Jack felt a cold wave of ominous foreboding slither through him as he stepped into the hangar bay with the others. It was chillingly empty, only a single ship remaining. He couldn't stop seeing the image on the console in the decommissioned communications facility, the red thing with the spikes and the leathery skin and the glowing red eyes. Was that what was waiting for them up on the far side of Phobos? There was something about that image, something that reached into his core and triggered a surge of instinctual, primal fear the same way a spider or a snake did with a lot of people. There was something fundamentally evil about it.

The group hurried across the immense, lonely room, heading for the airlock at the back of the troop transport vessel that was powered up, waiting for them. Jack had been on a lot of combat missions, a lot of them, he'd lost count, and there was always a touch of fear there, and that pre-battle adrenaline as he amped up for what was ahead of him. He was as afraid to die as the next guy, he supposed, but he'd gotten good at handling his fear and his thoughts as he was dumped yet again into the meat grinder.

But this was different.

Now, he just felt a cold, stark terror. This was the terror he had experienced as a child in the darkness of his ramshackle Missouri home, terrified of what might be lurking beneath his bed or in the midnight blackness of his closet, which didn't have a door. He felt like he was being walked to the gallows. Jack swallowed as he got into the airlock to cycle through, forcing himself to maintain control. He was a goddamned Marine and he'd faced down a decade of hellish warfare all over Earth. What was this shit?

But his bravado wasn't doing him much good now. Much as he tried, he couldn't help but continue to feel that slow, frozen dread.

Once he was cycled through the airlock, he got into the main cabin, which was a tight, compact tin tube with rows of chairs along either side. Hardly any room to maneuver. Sighing, he sat down and strapped himself in. Slowly, the others cycled through and took their seats. Blackmore was the last one in. He walked down the aisle and paused. Jenkins had taken up the seat directly across from Jack. Blackmore looked down at him.

"You're in my seat, Private," he said.

Jenkins stared back at him with a kind of 'deer caught in headlights' look, then he stammered out an apology and quickly began to undo the buckles and straps. Blackmore resumed his walk forward. He poked his head into the cockpit and gave the pilot the all-clear. Jenkins re-situated himself and Blackmore came back in and sat directly across from Jack. As the ship began to rumble with takeoff, Blackmore strapped himself in, then fixed Jack with a hard, flinty stare. Jack stared back at him, unsure of what the man wanted.

"All right, Ward, spill the beans," he said.

Everyone was looking at the two of them now.

"Sergeant?" Jack replied, honestly not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

"If you haven't picked up on it yet, I sent you after Ishii for a reason, Ward. I caught hell for it but I don't think they know why I did it."

"They?" Jack replied.

"UAC Command, the administrators that run that place. Something fishy's been going on for a while now and Ishii is one of their top scientists. He was panicking, heading for that comms station for a good reason, I'm sure. What did he say to you?" he asked.

The cabin was dead silent except for the rumble of the engines. Jack swallowed, looking around at all the others, who stared back at him expectantly.

"I saw something," he replied.

"What, Private? What did you see?" Blackmore pressed.

"Ishii was panicking, said he had to warn the authorities about what was going on. I...there was an image on the screen in front of him. It was of some kind of creature. I don't know what it was but it was definitely not human."

"Describe it," Blackmore replied.

"It was humanoid, maybe six four, six six, it was hard to tell. It had red, leathery skin with white spikes jutting up out of it. Its eyes were red and it had one arm pulled back, like it was getting ready to pitch a baseball. It looked like..." He hesitated.

"Like what?" Thompson pressed, staring at him intently, his eyes wide.

"Like it was holding fire," Jack replied.

Silence in the cabin again.

"Was that all you saw? Did Ishii say anything else?" Blackmore asked finally.

"No...wait. He said, when I asked what that was, he said it was one of the reasons he had to warn the authorities. Then some Corporals showed up and took him away. I don't think they know that I saw anything," he replied.

Blackmore was nodding silently. "One of the reasons," he said softly. "That means," he continued, speaking up to be heard over the engines as they left Mars's thin atmosphere, "that either there are more than one of these creatures or this creature is merely one type of creature."

"That's a big stretch," McGee said. "How do we even know Ishii wasn't a whackjob? What if he just cooked that image up?"

Blackmore shook his head. "No, Corporal, I've...seen some things, heard some things, off the record. It's legit. It's obvious that the UAC is up to no good and it's obvious that they're sending us into a meat grinder up there. We don't exactly have a lot of choice. Now, I believe in all of you. If we keep our wits about us and stay sharp, don't take any chances and keep it tight, we should be able to make it through this. You're all Marines, the best goddamned soldiers in the whole fucking galaxy and it doesn't matter what's up there, 'cause we're going to kick its ass back into whatever black hole it crawled out of, do you understand me?!" he rumbled.

The response was powerful, from all of them. "Yes, Sergeant!"

It was obvious to Jack that he was just hyping them up, that nothing had actually changed about the situation, but it made him feel better nonetheless. He supposed that was the foundation of confidence and hope: although nothing had changed, you felt better about your ability to handle it. And, in all truth, that really could make all the difference in the world. Jack sighed softly and simply sat back, since it was obvious that he'd offered all he could to the situation. He closed his eyes and again saw the mysterious, evil red thing.

He opened his eyes and didn't try to doze the rest of the trip.

This time, when they came up to Phobos Base, Jack was given a brief view of the area through the small windows of the craft. From what he could tell, it looked like the base was somewhere between six and ten structures spread out inside a pair of huge craters right next to each other. Then the view was gone, nothing left but stars and then the broad, crimson curve of Mars, and the troop transport was settling down on the surface of Phobos. As soon as it was down, Blackmore got up out of his seat and moved into the cockpit.

They listened to him as he attempted to raise anyone still left alive.

"This is Sergeant Blackmore from Mars City to Phobos Base. We are responding to your distress call, Phobos Base, what is the nature of your emergency? Over." He released the button and waited, listening with the rest of them. Jack stared into the cockpit, then looked around the cabin. They all looked sweaty and nervous behind the plate glass of their pressure suits. Back in the cockpit, Blackmore tried his contact mantra once more.

Still nothing.

As he prepared to repeat it a third time, Jack saw the man jerk in surprise as a wash of static burst into the cockpit. Jack felt his heart leap in his chest as he listened intently. The static was ongoing, pouring from the cockpit's speakers in waves, but there was something beneath it. Another sound, buried in the static.

It almost sounded like...screaming.

Or roaring.

Abruptly, it cut off.

"Well, that was enlightening," Blackmore muttered. He turned around. "Everyone, get ready, we're going in. Now, your pressure suits have two hours of oxygen, make sure you activate your oxygen reserve and seal your suits before going out there. Ward, you're staying here. I want you to check out the other ships, see what kind of condition they're in, if anyone is home. Also, uh," he glanced back briefly at the cockpit, "keep an eye on our ship. Make sure nothing happens to it."

"Got it, Sergeant," Jack replied.

That meant keep the pilot from freaking out and leaving them behind. Although there were probably other ships on Phobos and one of them was probably a qualified pilot, there was no reason to risk it.

Jack watched his fellow Space Marines leave the ship, catching eyes with Jennifer. He wanted to say something to her: wish her good luck, thank her for shacking up with him, apologize for holding back the information and explain why he'd done it. But there was no time for any of that. He merely nodded tightly to her and she nodded back. Soon, she was gone through the airlock. Then the others were gone.

Blackmore was the last one out.

"Good luck," Jack said before he left.

"You too," Blackmore replied, his gruff grit momentarily snuffed out. He looked...worried. But the moment passed and he got that hard, flinty look back in his gaze. "Make sure you secure this perimeter ASAP, Private."

"Yes, Sergeant," Jack replied.

Blackmore left. Jack turned around and headed into the cockpit. He looked down at the pilot, who was nervously tending to his controls.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The pilot looked up at him, looking small in his white pressure suit. "Stanmore," he replied. "Stephen Stanmore."

"All right, Stanmore. Keep the ship warm, we might need to leave here in a hurry," Jack said.

Stanmore nodded. "Don't worry, I will."

The man was clearly scared, but was it justified fear...or fear that was riding the edge of panic? It was too hard to tell. Jack merely put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it briefly and then turned around and headed back to the airlock. He cycled through, taking the opportunity to turn his pistol's safety off. Over his helmet-mounted headset, he could hear Blackmore and the others chattering. They were nearing the entrance to the Hangar now.

The outer airlock door opened and he was given a bleak, grim view of gray Phobos.

Jack took a deep breath and tasted the canned air of his suit. He let his breath out slowly, fogging his visor.

Okay, time to get this show on the road.

He took the first step out onto the three-step platform that extended to the ground. Then he took the next step, and the third step.

The final step put his feet onto the gray, ashen surface of Phobos. Here he was, on another body of rock, floating through space. Jack roused himself. He had a job to do and it sure as hell wasn't to sit there and revel in sci-fi splendor. Okay, maybe splendor wasn't really the right word. Dead ahead, maybe ten meters away, was another silver, pitted platform that held another transport ship, identical to his own.

He set off. To his left was the dark bulk of the Phobos Base Hangar, a huge structure that vaguely resembled an elongated pyramid. It was several hundred meters long and on its right side was the big, bulbous shape of the control tower, a good seventy feet up. There were much larger landing pads buffeting the edges of the structure. All of them were empty. Jack returned his attention to the shuttle ahead of him. He realized that his hand had fallen unconsciously to the pistol in his holster. He made himself relax.

As he drew closer, Jack realized that it was not identical to the one he'd just left. There was something marring the inside of the glass canopy covering the cockpit. Something that looked disturbingly like blood. Definitely a bad sign. Now, he did pull out his pistol. Moving carefully around the side of the ship, he came to the back, to the airlock, and felt a chill ripple through him. The airlock had been forced open.

Ripped open, actually. Hard steel had been ripped open, by...by what?

Jack swallowed and peered cautiously into the ship, stepping up on the first stair. He had a clear view of the whole interior. It wasn't in much better shape, but it was empty. Slowly, he made his way into the ship, his pistol up and ready, held with both hands. He came into the cockpit and found the frozen, shredded, pulpy remains of what must have been the pilot. The controls had been smashed utterly, some occasionally shooting sparks into the dead interior. Jack shuddered violently, suddenly having the feeling of being watched, and spun around. He remained alone in the wrecked shuttle. Sighing, he headed back out.

"Sergeant Blackmore, I've investigated the first shuttle. It's ruined, pilot's dead. Something ripped open the airlock with brute strength, over."

"Wonderful. We're finding a lot of the same in the Hangar. Whatever happened here, it was big, ugly, and very, very brutal, over," Blackmore replied.

"I'm going to check out the other two ships, Sergeant. Over."

"Affirmative. Out."

Jack made his way up to the next two ships and found basically more of the same. As he checked them out, he listened to Blackmore and the others give out reports. It began to fade into the background as he tried to piece together the growing, bloody mystery he had on his hands out here. As he walked slowly between the ships, the minuscule gravity throwing off his gait and making his stomach roll, he found his gaze continually drifting up to Mars, which hung huge and crimson above him, taking up most of the sky like a gigantic red eye.

As he got done with the second of the three ships, he heard Blackmore report that the team was going to split up, check out the Toxin Refinery and the Nuclear Plant, then converge on Command Control to get some answers. Jack felt colder than ever as he moved towards the third ship. It was obvious that something completely FUBAR had happened up on Phobos, but even with the limited clues he'd gathered so far, he could only come up with very basic ideas. Obviously, they'd been conducting experiments and obviously one of them had blown up in their face. Either by accident or by sabotage...unless he was wrong about that, too.

What if it was some kind of alien invasion?

A virus they had found buried somehow on Phobos?

Something totally different?

The interior of the third ship was just as bloody and brutalized as the others. He hadn't expected to find anything else. Slowly, Jack made his way back outside, standing on the fourth and final landing pad, staring up at the huge, monolithic structure before him. As he was staring at it, he jerked in surprise as his radio burst to life.

"Ah, Sergeant, I've got movement here..." That was Thompson.

"What is it? Over." Blackmore.

"I don't...oh shit, there's more of them. Freeze! Identify yourself!"

Jenkins broke in, his voice trembling. "Sergeant, I've got movement, too! There's...God, there's a dozen of them! I-oh God, what's wrong with them!?" he shrieked, and suddenly gunfire cut across the channel.

"-too many of them!"

"What is that?!"

"Shoot it! SHOOT IT! KILL IT!"

Jack stood there, frozen with stark terror, as the radio became awash with overlapping voices, screaming, hysterically shouted orders from Blackmore, the booms of shotguns going off, and the higher popping reports of pistols.

Then, all at once, nothing.

Dead air.

It shocked Jack into action like a bucket of cold water. Turning, he began rushing back towards the ship that still worked. "Sergeant Blackmore, can you hear me!?...Blackmore!?...Jennifer, are you there?! Talk to me!" he screamed.

But there was absolutely nothing on the radio now, just a dead blankness, not even static.

Up ahead, the ship that was still functional was trembling and the engines were flaring white in the blackness.

"Stanmore, do not leave us here you fucking bastard!" Jack shrieked over the radio, not knowing or caring if the man had heard him, panic igniting inside of him. He ran as fast as he could, and managed to make it to the airlock. He smashed the open button and forced himself inside as soon as the door was open enough, then smashed his fist on the cycle button. The seconds slammed by as the atmosphere was pushed into the airlock. His panic was doused though, now that he was actually on the shuttle.

He could make Stanmore stop if he had to.

The airlock finally finished its tortuously long cycle and he leaped into the cabin, rushed down its length, and burst into the cockpit. Stanmore was furiously working the controls. Jack clapped a hand down hard on the man's shoulder and forcefully spun him around. Stanmore cried out, looking pale and terrified in his white pressure suit.

"Please, don't hurt me!" he screamed.

"Relax!" Jack screamed, then stopped, made himself calm down. "What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded.

"I...you heard what happened! I'm trying to get the hell out of here! You're here now, we can go back to Mars City...if I can get the engines working," he replied, his voice high, strained.

"Stanmore, we aren't going anywhere. The squad needs help. I'm not leaving them behind."

"Then you go!" Stanmore moaned. "I'll stay here and-"

"Stanmore, you're coming with me," Jack said flatly. "I obviously can't trust you to stay here and wait for us and it'd be a bad idea anyway, since the other three ships have been ripped open and the pilots all killed. And you said it yourself, something's wrong with the ship."

Stanmore looked up at him, miserable and terrified, trembling. But something in him seemed to shift and he sighed and turned back around, powering down the ship.

"I trust you have a weapon?" Jack asked, straightening up.

"Yeah, they issued me a pistol and two magazines," he mumbled.

"Then get it, load it, and let's go. We're going in there and pulling them out. I'm not leaving anyone behind," Jack repeated.

He was terrified, but as he led Stanmore back out through the airlock, (making him go first), Jack felt a cold, hard calm settle over him. He had an objective in mind. It was difficult, maybe impossible, but Jack at least knew what he was doing: moving into unknown, hostile territory, locating his fellow Space Marines, and pulling them out of there. It was a goal, it was something to work towards, and that had always been enough for him.

Once they cycled out of the airlock, Jack led Stanmore across the gray plains of Phobos, towards the immense bulk of the Hangar.

"I trust you know how to use that?"

"Yeah," Stanmore replied, his voice coming shortwave over the radio now, "I know how to use it."

"Good. Don't take any chances, don't go off on your own, don't make any more noise than absolutely necessary. I need you to be an asset in there, not a liability."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Stanmore muttered.

Jack stopped and turned to face him. They were halfway across one of the main platforms that was right up against the Hangar, standing in the shadow of the base. "Stanmore, this is serious. As in, life or death serious."

"I know that! I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"Good."

Jack turned and resumed his walk. Up ahead, he spied an airlock, probably the same one the team had used.

He tried the radio one more time.

"This is Sergeant...Private Ward to anyone, do you copy? Over." Still nothing. He sighed softly and led Stanmore up to the airlock.

They stepped inside, the base swallowing them up without compunction.