From The Moon

Having split into smaller teams, the group make their way into the remains of the city.

With their guns raised it is clear each and every one of them is on edge, their fingers hovering over the triggers of their respective firearms ready to squeeze them at a moment’s notice. Yet, thankfully the teams are spread out reasonably well. At least Lori thinks they are, not that she has any sort of military background.

Thoughts of the lost astronauts return to the Australian woman. She pushes them aside as she follows those in her team. Unlike them, Lori’s gun is not raised and levelled. It is raised, just not levelled. Rather the barrel is dipped. It’s because she doesn’t want to misfire and take out one of her own by mistake. Apparently that is not an issue anyone else is concerned with. Unless it hasn’t dawned on them, that is. It could be it hasn’t, though she isn’t about to raise it and find out. Not at a time like this anyway.

However, there is one question she has and this one she feels needs an answer as they make their way past massive mounds of rubble, burnt out vehicles, craters and such, and that is, “If no tech works, how are we going to find the bugs?”

In her mind she thinks it’s a fair question. Not that she ever gets an answer, for as if written in the stars of luckless fate the bugs appear, en masse. Where they have come from Lori cannot say. One second the air was empty. The next it wasn’t. Still, it doesn’t change what happens next, which is for the shooting to start.

Bullets whizz this way and that. Lori joins in with shoots of her own; not at all sure her aim is true. Yet, it matters little for the metal projectiles, the group quickly learns, do nothing to the bugs who without warning explode, as a swarm, and surge toward the group.

Some of the armed brigade manage to take cover, others are not so fortunate and as a result, in seconds, their numbers are almost halved.

Feeling this battle is lost before it’s truly begun, and falling into a habit of having until recently been the one in-charge, Lori screams, “Retreat!”

The command goes ignored. No one retreats or makes any sort of attempt to. Rather, grenades are pulled, primed and tossed. They sail through the air, Lori watches them. Perfectly timed they explode right in the ‘faces’ of the bugs. It happens while those still breathing leap behind cover to seek shelter.

When the smoke clears it is revealed that the bugs are immune to small detonations too for they remain intact, unharmed. Lori’s jaw drops as a result. She cannot believe these things; aliens, bugs, whatever you want to call them have shrugged off nearly a dozen blasts from fragmentation grenades as if they were nothing at all. No human could hope to achieve such a feat, though the bugs soon resume their attack, as if they had been expecting these tactics employed by the humans.

Whether they have or not, instinctively the blonde woman who was once a Director in Mission Control breaks into a sprint, retreating from the bugs as they rush toward her and the others.

Lori is aiming for cover. It’s not far, if she can make it. Though, she prays that it’ll save her. Whether it will or not is of little concern she feels as she dives for it all the same; hoping, pleading this isn’t how she is going to die.

Her landing is hard; it knocks the wind out of her. It’s better than what others are faced with for they are not so lucky and are plucked off the ground and into the air. Screams follow. They are quickly silenced. Lori isn’t inclined to see how these people died; she saw enough of that when her friends suffered similar fates on the Moon.

Only thirteen of the twenty seven remain, and they are barely two minutes into this ‘battle.’ Mercifully someone cries for, “Retreat into that rubble pile.”

Frantic, Lori whips her head around and spies what she assumes is the intended goal. Then without a second thought she struggles as she scrambles to her feet and then drives her legs as fast as she can. Other surviving fighters are doing the same, with the bugs hot on their heels. Fearing she might not make it, the blonde dives into a slide. It takes her through the opening in the rubble and to safety.

This time the group suffer no additional casualties; though the bugs do not relent. Rather, they pick, gouge, slice and slash at the debris. Luckily, they are not rewarded for their efforts. Perhaps it is no surprise then that they soon withdraw.

The Australian wishes she could call it a retreat on the part of her enemies, but doesn’t feel she can bring herself to for it isn’t a retreat, not really. A retreat, at least in her mind, signifies loss, a defeat, and the bugs are certainly not losing or defeated.

“What the fuck is the plan now? Do we even have a plan? Did you ever have a plan?” The Australian demands once the sounds from the bugs have subsided completely having left an eerie silence in their place.

The series of questions has been delivered, not to one of those gathered in the space with her, but to all of them. It sounds like a challenge. Perhaps it is. Lori cannot be sure other than to say that she has done it because from her point of view it seems as though nothing that has happened was ever planned. Rather, it appears as though these have been the acts of desperate, reckless fools. People wanting to play hero in a world, the real world, where actions have always have consequences. Something they should know but it appears as though they have, somehow, forgotten.

“We blow the nest.” Is the reply when finally it comes.

“There’s a nest? No one’s ever mentioned a nest.” Is the incredulous reply from Lori.

An exchange of looks follows; judging off nothing but the glances Lori decides she doesn’t like the expressions on the faces around her, not one bit. Clearly this idea is a bad one, she thinks.

“What’s in the nest?” She feels it prudent to ask anyway.

“No one knows.”

“Why does no one know?” The former Director at Mission Control for Foundation I adds quickly, unwilling to let it go.

“Because… because no one’s ever survived.” Is the admittance that comes eventually.

The statement in no way shocks Lori for she had come to expect as much, for reasons she cannot give. It’s why she demands soon after, “Where’s the nest then?”

Her tone isn’t defeated or angry, it’s determined. She could feel those other things but thinks it would not change the reality that the nest appears to be their only option. Whether it’s an option that will lead them to success she cannot say. And by the looks of things nor can anyone else here with her. Still, she feels they have to try. Otherwise the lives lost thus far will have been for nothing, and that possibility doesn’t sit right with Lori. Not one bit.

“See where the bugs are circling?” Another of the group, speaking for the first time as far as Lori can remember, and who is stood close to a meagre gap in the rubble they are sheltered within asks.

“Yeah.” Lori admits looking through the gap at the swarm in the sky now that she is stood alongside the man who uttered the question.

“Below them is the nest.”

“Fucking hell.” Are the only words which leave Lori’s mouth.

Sure, she always knew it would be bad but not only is that a few hundred metres ahead of them, it is also where the bugs are at their most numerous. It makes sense she knows, but that doesn’t mean the blonde had not dared to hope, maybe foolishly, it might be elsewhere.

“And what have we got to achieve this goal?” Is Lori’s next question muttered as she looks toward the floor, head hung low, not defeated just deflated.

“Bunch of grenades… And we’ve got some homemade explosives too.” Someone replies.

If she wasn’t previously, Lori is certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they are all going to die. That not even a single one of them is going to make it out of this alive.

Part of her wishes she’d never stumbled across this group. That she’d kept walking; alone, weary and tired. Maybe if she had she’d have found someone else; people not on a suicide mission. But she didn’t and can’t change the past which has led her here, to where she is right now, facing what she is facing.

“Do you have an idea as how to get these explosives to the nest?” It’s an honest question asked without judgement.

As you might imagine there is no answer, which confirms what Lori suspected, they do not. A wing and a prayer is what this group are hoping to succeed on. Thankfully, she is here and has an idea. Not a good one but one nonetheless.

Truthfully, she doubts any idea any person could have, no matter how long they planned, would be good in a situation like this.

“Right, well the only way we’re going to get this done is if we move as a single unit. All of us have to protect one person and that one person needs to be who is carrying the explosives. Not the grenades. They’ve already proved almost useless, bit like our bullets. But at least the bullets can be loosed quick, grenades not.” There is a pause.

“Anyway, we cover this one person until we reach the nest. Then they dump the explosives and we get the fuck out of dodge.”

The reality, they must all be aware, is that none of them are likely to survive. Doesn’t mean Lori is going to openly admit as much. Principally because that is the sort of thing that crushes spirits, and she should know as she did spend years working on a space programme. It’s why she feels it prudent to leave the detail of potential hopelessness out of the equation, her little speech.

Best to let them come to their own conclusions about the chances of survival, she thinks.

“But who’s going to do it?” Someone says asking the million dollar question.

In response the members of the group erupt into a long exchanging of glances, without anyone seeming willing to offer.

Lori gets the distinct feeling it is going to have to be her. That is until a small woman with short brown hair raises her hand and declares in a sheepish voice, “I-I’ll do it.” She takes a breath and then adds her reasoning, “It’ll be easier for the bugs to miss and for you all to cover me if I do it.”

“Name?” The blonde Australian asks without having a clue for she had not been introduced to everyone on her ride here.

“Annice.” The diminutive woman replies.

“Alright, give Annice the explosives and then form up around her. Better to get this done sooner rather than later. Don’t want the bugs growing restless.”

It takes a couple minutes to get Annice adorned with the explosives in a way she can manage the weight of and then encircle her.

Somehow Lori has ended up near the back but thankfully is no longer in-charge for it is someone else, a guy amongst the survivors, who calls for them to advance. They do, as a unit; first leaving the safety of their shelter and then charging across the open rubble strewn ground toward the circling swarm of aliens.

Alas, the swarm do not continue circling for more than eighteen metres of the groups approach before an attack ensues.

Bullets once again begin to fly. Not so recklessly this time, for there is a need to conserve ammo. Something it seems the group was oblivious to previously. And if they’d continued firing with reckless abandon there would be a decent chance that they’ll run out way short of their intended goal. If that were to happen they would almost certainly be dead, even if Lori believes they will be no matter how well this plan of hers goes.

Upon reaching the halfway point the group total ten. They lost a couple, unable to prevent the agonising screams which followed. Alas, it is what happens next that is the worst blow of all for the bugs dive-bomb aiming for and plucking Annice from her feet. The homemade explosives fall, luckily, but the woman herself is swiftly and mercilessly eviscerated, savagely.

Stunned and paralysed, the group resort to firing their weapons recklessly because they are unsure as to what their next move should be now that Annice is dead.

A few even risk turning toward Lori as if to silently pleas that she give them an answer to save their souls. The Australian never gets the chance because the bugs tear through the remainder of the group.

Lori hears more than sees it because on instinct alone she dives, dodges and rolls until landing atop the explosives. Claiming them, and hearing the last dying remnants of those who dragged her into this catastrophe of an event, the woman does the only thing she thinks to do, run.

This time however she is not heading for potential safety but for the nest. Or at least where it is claimed to be. She hasn’t a clue if it is. The group could be wrong. The aliens might not have a nest. They might simply look like hornets and not act like them. There is no way of knowing and in her mind it seems doubtful. Yet, what she has got to lose? Her life, she is well aware. Though, it strikes her that her life was already what had been decided would be the price she need to pay and so she has nothing else to lose then.

Sprinting as fast as her legs can carry her, tripping and stumbling as she goes due to a mixture of the debris in her path and the weight of the explosives, the bugs dive-bomb her. She manages to avoid many a strike, narrowly, and much to her shock. Yet, it is when she sets eyes on the disappearing terrain, clear signs of a hole, that the bugs deliver their best efforts. Sadly, these she does not evade, which is why she is flung off her feet, injured by slashes and cuts down her one side, only for the ground to offer her even less remorse.

Winded, the woman feels the sting of pain from her wounds. It’s horrific she has to admit and leaves her panting for breath. Still, somehow she manages to scramble forward until she is at the edge of the hole.

She is no longer on her feet. She is somewhere between standing and on all fours. Her body is too bruised, battered and weary to have allowed her anything else.

Yet, it is while staring into the hole that she is awestruck at both its size and depth.

Suddenly the ground begins to shudder. These quakes continue to build and build without signs of slowing, easing or stopping. It is during this that Lori catches glimpses when light reflects off something’s in the hole.

At first she concludes they must be fragments of metals in the exposed rocks. That is until it dawns on her that these fragments are moving, in a way flecks of metal cannot not.

“The bugs are digging!” She exclaims astounded.

Her voice is muffled, strained but she pays no attention to that for it does not matter one iota she thinks.

“Why are they digging?”

She hasn’t a clue. Her brain refuses to spin into action, which is just as well seeing as the bugs swarm her again. Not wanting to die and seeing no other option Lori jumps into the hole.

She falls and falls and keeps falling. The bugs chase but cannot keep pace with her plummeting body. That surprises her. Much like the depth of this hole surprises her.

The thousands upon thousands of burrowing little monstrosities lining the walls on the other hand do not.

It is during this fall that the tremors begin to rumble the ground with greater severity. Such issues no longer afflict Lori because of her falling, and so she is left to wonder for how long she might tumble. There has to be a bottom, yet she cannot see it.

Suddenly her mind declares that the bugs are the cause of the tremors. She is aware. But isn’t about to let them do as they please any longer. That is why she brought the explosives.

Quickly, frantic and fumbling, she arms and then with all her might, while the bugs are closing on her, she hurls it up above her head. The pack goes spinning; the bugs giving chase evade the object as if wary of its contents.

A few short seconds see the pack reach its zenith and then just as it begins to be affected by gravity it unleashes a gigantic boom.

The resulting shockwave ripples out creating a whole new set of tremors, localised ones. These new tremors shake the walls, tear at them, prying boulders lose along the entire shaft of the vertical tube.

Lori watches the devastation and the bugs that make attempts to flee. Alas, the mouth of the cavern quickly collapses inwards sealing all those inside from the surface with massive chunks of rock and debris hurtling down the tube obliterating the near invulnerable aliens from the Moon. It’s a victory, Lori thinks still falling and unable to see now that daylight has been lost, albeit a small one.