Gunfire ripped through the night, sharp bursts of sound tearing through the darkness surrounding me. The acrid scent of gunpowder clung to the air, mixing with the bitter taste of blood and sweat on my lips.
My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a relentless reminder that I was still alive and fighting.
I pressed myself against the remnants of a crumbling wall, trying to steady my breath as my mind struggled to make sense of the chaos around me.
But nothing made sense. How... how did I get here?
The world was a blur of shadows and fire. The once-familiar, wait, no, why was it familiar? The landscape was now a broken wasteland of ruin, with the silhouettes of buildings barely standing against the inferno that was devouring them. Figures moved through the smoke, fast and desperate. I recognized them, but their faces...
Blurred.
Their voices shouted orders, warnings, desperate calls for cover—but they all sounded distant, like an old radio playing from another room.
Somewhere to my left, a heavy weapon roared in defiance, spraying fire toward the advancing enemy. Someone else barked a command through the chaos.
But it was a losing battle.
We were outnumbered and surrounded by an unstoppable tide.
I gripped my rifle, the cold metal grounding me in the madness. The ground trembled beneath me, the distant rumble of enemy vehicles growing louder with each passing second, as they grew closer. I needed a plan, come on, think!
But all I could see was fire and death.
Shadows fell, their blurred faces collapsing into the dirt.
A voice cut through the noise, their calls laced with a fear I had never heard before.
"We need to move!"
I turned, locking eyes with someone across the battlefield. Or at least, I thought I did.
Their face was... wrong.
I knew them.
But the details slipped away, like trying to grasp smoke.
"We're surrounded!" Another voice, barely audible over the static and gunfire. "We need to fall back, now!"
I nodded instinctively, even though I didn't know if they could see me. I forced myself to rise, muscles screaming in protest, and glanced over the wall.
What I saw made my blood run cold.
The enemy was advancing in a relentless wave, their figures barely visible through the smoke and flames.
And behind them...
Something else.
A shadow.
Moving with unnatural speed, shifting at the edges of my vision. It pulsed—not like a creature, but like a force, or a presence… I wasn't sure; it just felt so wrong.
The ground beneath me shuddered again, a violent tremor that nearly knocked me off my feet.
In an instant, someone was beside me now. Rough hands grabbed at my vest, dragging me back to my senses, their voice strained as they frantically pulled me back. "Snap out of it! We have to move, now!"
I nodded again, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I turned, ready to follow them into the fray, when—
The ground erupted.
The explosion threw me back.
Dirt and shrapnel tore through the air, the force of the blast stealing the breath from my lungs.
For a moment, the world spun into darkness.
My eyes snapped open.
And I was alone.
The battlefield was eerily silent.
The gunfire, the shouting, the chaos—all gone.
Smoke rolled through the ruins, thick and endless, swallowing what was left of the world. The air was wrong. Too still.
And then I saw them.
The others.
Figures lying in the dirt. Motionless.
My breath caught, my mind racing as I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward the nearest body, their form barely visible through the haze. I wanted to call out, but my throat was raw and completely useless.
They didn't move.
I took another step—
And then I saw the shadow.
It loomed in the smoke, a hulking mass that seemed to consume the light around it.
It had no features, no face for me to blame.
Just darkness.
But through that, I felt it. It was watching me.
A cold pressure wrapped around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.
The shadow moved.
I tried to run, but my body refused to listen. My muscles locked in place, my feet rooted to the ground as tendrils of blackness crawled toward me.
I gasped, struggling against the unseen weight crushing down on me.
The darkness reached me.
It curled around my limbs, dragging me down, down, down into the abyss.
"No!"
I fought and struggled, grasping at the darkness now consuming me.
But it was no use—it was stronger.
It always was.
The last thing I saw—
The blurred faces of the fallen.
A voice cut through the darkness, Sharp and Commanding.
But unmistakable.
"Atlas. Get up."
The dream shattered like glass. I jolted awake, my heart pounding so hard it felt like everyone would hear it. Sweat glistened on my skin, which felt oddly chill against the frigid air of my surroundings. The battlefield faded, giving way to the sterile confines of my cabin. But the fear lingered, a shadow that wouldn't let go.
"What's going on?" My voice was hoarse, scraping its way out of my throat.
Amelia Grayson stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes like twin Blue daggers, sharp, and always poised. The kind of gaze that peeled back armor and saw straight to the rot beneath.
"We're about to hit Mars' atmosphere. Gear up."
Already? How could I have slept for so long? This wasn't like me. Shaking off the confusion, I forced myself upright, the exhaustion clinging to every muscle. "Got it."
She didn't move. Just watched for a heartbeat longer—measuring something, maybe disappointed in what she saw. But then she turned, boots clicking against the floor as she walked out. Her hair—dark blonde, almost bronze in the artificial light—whipped behind her like a banner of retreat.
"Five minutes, Atlas," she called without looking back. "Don't be late."
The door hissed shut.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rubbed the last remnants of sleep from my eyes. "No time for more sleep, huh?" I muttered, the fatigue weighing heavily on my body.
I stumbled to the sink, splashing cold water on my face, trying to gather my thoughts. Staring at my reflection, I met my own dark brown eyes, noting the shadow of the nightmare still lurking there. My hair had grown longer than I liked, but with a quick style to the side, it was out of my way.
Moving to the closet, i pered in. a couple sets of the exact identical suits meet my eye.
Sighing i picked one up and got in.
With a press of a button, the suit activated. The fabric tightened around me, the black shoulder pads firm and the white streaks along my arms and legs a stark contrast. It fit perfectly, like always.
A glance at the mirror. One last look.
"Twenty-four years," I whispered, voice barely audible over the hum of the ship. "Still here."
I didn't know if it was a victory… or a mistake.
Didn't really matter, in the end.
The mission wasn't going to wait for me to figure it out.
I turned and stepped out into the corridor, letting the rhythm of forward momentum carry me. The walls of the ship were as familiar as ever—pristine metal reflected the overhead lights, flickering slightly with each system check. The scent of recycled air and something unfamiliar clung to everything. But I had to admit it was comforting, in its own strange way.
Making my way through the narrow halls, I had to duck a little to clear the six-foot frame of the door. I'd gotten used to that. As I entered the control room, the energy shifted—buzzing with motion, quiet voices, the hum of systems coming alive.
Most of the crew was already strapped in. Some were still adjusting harnesses, checking gear, or double-checking systems that didn't need checking. Pre-entry jitters.
I moved to my seat, passing a few nods along the way. Familiar faces. Some more awake than others.
At the front, Amelia sat poised and ready. Unshakable, as always. Her gaze flicked toward me for half a second—sharp and brief—before turning back to the readouts.
To her right was Emily Carter. Short, focused, and absurdly good at her job. Her dirty blond hair fell slightly over her face as she worked the flight console, green eyes locked onto the data. She didn't look up, fingers moving with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times before.
Amelia's voice cut across the chatter like a clean blade. "Where is Ethan?"
No wasted words. Just the kind of question that made the room go still for a beat.
Right on cue, the doors hissed open and Ethan stumbled in, face flushed, hair a mess, but otherwise alive. He practically dove into his seat and yanked the harness over his shoulders.
Amelia gave him a glance. "Good. You made it."
A second later, the ship's AI chimed in.
"Ten seconds before atmospheric entry."
That quieted everyone down.
I let my gaze move across the room. Seven of us. Seven strangers-turned-crewmates, all strapped into the same ride. Some were nervous. Others focused. Me? Somewhere in between.
"Four… Three… Two…"
I gripped the armrests. The countdown had weight to it—not fear, just the buzz of something real about to happen.
"One."
The ship lurched, and the floor vibrated beneath my boots. The hull screamed like it was tearing apart, but I'd been on enough drops to know the difference between danger and noise. Still, the force of reentry hit hard, like being pressed into yourself by an invisible hand.
Through the viewport, fire clawed at the edges of the vessel. A soft glow at first, then brighter—like the whole world outside had turned into a furnace. It painted the interior in shades of red and orange, flickering across the room in sporadic flickers.
The air filled with the sounds of stressed steel and the occasional shudder. My harness dug into my shoulders as the turbulence hit full force.
"Steady, everyone!" Amelia's voice cut through again, barely able to hide the slight tension in her voice, "Ship's built for worse than this."
Another jolt. This one was stronger, as my body was thrown forward into the harness.
I braced, the pull of gravity turning heavier by the second. Every part of me screamed to move, to do something—but there was nothing to do except ride it out.
Then—
"Almost through," Amelia said, and I believed her.
The rumble softened. The pressure eased. And suddenly, it was like falling into stillness.
I exhaled without realizing I'd been holding my breath.
The firelight outside dimmed, giving way to a clearer view—shades of rust and gold, craggy ridges, valleys carved by wind and time. Mars.
Our destination.
I leaned forward, eyes locked on the landscape below.
Not exactly welcoming.
But we were here.
The turbulence faded, replaced by the low thrum of the engines as the ship leveled out and began its descent. The rattling gave way to a smooth glide, like the vessel itself had taken a breath and decided not to fall apart.
Through the viewport, the Martian surface drew closer—its harsh peaks were completely alien. My heart kicked once, hard, like it hadn't quite caught up to the fact that we were actually landing. That we'd made it.
Then, a solid thunk as the struts deployed and the ship kissed the surface with a muted jolt. Just like that, we were grounded.
Around me, the tension unraveled from the crew like an invisible thread snapping loose. You could feel the collective exhale, the shift from a state of survival to something more relaxed.
I leaned back in my seat for just a moment, letting the silence settle. My fingers flexed against the armrests as I let out a long breath. Muscles unclenched. Nerves calmed.
"Quite the ride," I muttered under my breath as I unbuckled and rolled my shoulders. The tension was still there, just not quite so loud.
"Alright, let's get geared up," Amelia said.
Every click and snap of her harness being undone felt like part of a drill she'd run a hundred times before.
I stood and stretched one last time before falling in step, moving through the corridor as the crew came alive. Voices murmured back and forth. Gear clanked. The familiar rhythm of preparation settled over the ship.
For the first time in a long while, I felt… something close to excitement.
We passed through a maintenance corridor on the way to the hangar bay—tight, and cluttered, a mess of exposed conduits and overhead pipes. I knew better than to touch anything.
A jogger caught up to me from the side—early thirties, a bit soft around the edges, curly brown hair bouncing slightly as he moved. Friendly Green eyes stared up at me as He matched my pace.
"Hey, I'm Henry Williams," he said with a huff as he calmed his breathing. "Sorry, we didn't get a chance to talk before launch."
I returned the smile, adjusting my pace to let him fall in beside me. "No worries. We've all been neck-deep in prep. Mechanic, right?"
"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "Non-stop work… well, until we launched, honestly, I was Glad for the breather."
"I don't know how you keep it all straight," I said, glancing at the maze of metal around us. Pipes twisted overhead and snaked along the walls like mechanical veins. "This stuff looks like spaghetti made by a madman."
Laughing, his eyes flicking across the bulkheads with something like fondness. "That? That's the good stuff. Beautiful, actually. Every bit of it's got a purpose. Those pipes over there?" He pointed. "They regulate coolant to the engine core. Keep the heat in check so we don't end up as dust. And those vents? Environmental control. Keeps the air breathable, the temperature livable."
I raised an eyebrow. "All that from just… pipes?"
He grinned. "You'd be surprised. Engineering's all about connections. You miss one, the whole thing… well, I guess you get the gist of it."
I gave him a nod, the edges of a smile tugging at my lips. "Remind me not to piss off the guy keeping the ship from exploding."
"You'd better not," he said with a wink.
I gave a small smile. "Honestly, I'm surprised." form the list of people that were sent on this mission, they only really assigned Henry and one other to keep the ship in good shape. But I know it was mostly just him. The other Ella… a.. Adams. Ya, Adams, she was more for when we landed.
"I can't imagine having all that work to do. I bet it helps to talk to others."
Henry's smile faded a bit. "Well, kinda… I guess I had Owen and Benjamin to talk to, of course. Solid guys, don't get me wrong—but not exactly the chatty type. Owen's more of a 'speak when it counts' kind of guy. Real quiet one, but he's thoughtful."
He paused, then chuckled. "Benjamin's the opposite. He's got this energy—like he's already lived two lifetimes and is halfway through a third. You know, Calm and wise, not in a pretentious way, just… grounded. But neither of them really talks much. So I end up talking to myself a lot."
I tilted my head. "Who are they again? Sorry, I was in cryo most of the trip."
Henry waved a hand. "Oh—yeah, right. Makes sense. Owen's the younger guy—maybe twenty or so. Slim build, dark brown hair that always looks like he just got out of bed. He has that absent-minded genius vibe… and his Cyan eyes…" he seemed to have lost thought.
Raising a brow at the strange reaction, I just stared at him
Residing a hand in defense, he explained. "Hey, once you talk to him, you'll see what I mean. It's almost like he talks though his eyes."
Not spending a second more on the topic, he shifted to Benjamin.
"And Benjamin," he continued, "he's the older one. Sixties, I think? Hair's black and white—tied in this neat little bun, always has this no-nonsense expression like he's already solved the problem you're about to bring him. His eyes are brown, kind of like yours, actually."
"Wow," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You remember quite a lot of details."
Henry gave a modest shrug. "It comes with the job. If one bolt is off, the system fails. The same principle applies to people; you start noticing the little things. That's what keeps us alive, really."
He hesitated for a second, then added, "Benjamin's the one who woke you, right? From cryo?"
"Yeah," I said slowly, the memory flickering back. "He did my inspection, checked vitals, and made sure I was all there. Didn't talk much, but… yeah, doctor vibes."
"Yep, that's him." Henry stepped ahead and pressed the panel, opening the hangar doors with a soft hydraulic hiss.
"Well, nice to officially meet you," I said as I passed, offering a quick grin over my shoulder.
"Same," he called back.
I jogged down the steps, eager now. The hum of the hangar felt alive—crew checking systems, gear stations lit and prepped, boots echoing across the metal floor. I moved straight to my station. My name was engraved in the metal above the station in clean black print.
Waiting for me was the exoskeleton—sleek, dark silver, minimalist in design but heavy where it counted. I stepped into the harness and felt it sync up immediately, the servos clicking into place with precise mechanical ease. A soft vibration ran through the spine of the frame as it calibrated to my movements.
Then came the suit.
Armored plates over reinforced mesh, featuring a matte black finish with silver trim. Tough, flexible, and built for warzones we hoped we wouldn't see. I secured the buckles one by one, each strap pulling the weight closer to my frame. Once I disconnected from the wall, the servos in the exoskeleton kicked in with a low mechanical hum, syncing to my movements like muscle memory.
The gauntlets snapped into place around my hands. I flexed my fingers. Smooth. No resistance. Like an extension of me—stronger, steadier, and far more forgiving in zero-G or high-G situations.
Chest plate next. It locked in with a heavy thud, and a soft pulse ran through the interior lining as the suit's internal systems powered on. I felt them sync—heartbeat, oxygen levels, temperature regulation. Everything calibrated, everything green.
Then the helmet.
Its visor caught my reflection for a split second before I slid it on. Hiss. The seal engaged, locking into place with a finality I'd come to associate with missions that mattered. The HUD came alive immediately—vitals, orientation, suit integrity, atmospheric readings. The familiar dance of data lit up the inside of my visor.
One last step.
The rifle waited for me on the wall rack, its dark silver edges promising death. A pulse rifle, compact enough for close quarters, powerful enough to tear through hardened armor if needed. I grabbed it with both hands, tested the balance, then locked it onto the magnetic harness across my back. Click. Ready.
Right on cue, Amelia's voice crackled into my ear, distorted just enough by the comms to remind me this was the real deal.
"Alright," she said, crisp and clear, "I'm going to go through our mission once again for those who didn't pay attention last time."
My eyes drifted to the left. Ethan Mitchell.
He was still getting into his suit, and I say "getting into" loosely. More like dragging himself through it, one lazy strap at a time. The guy looked like he'd just rolled out of bed—hair a tangled mess, beard unkempt, eyes half-lidded like he hadn't slept since Earth.
His exoskeleton hung loosely off one shoulder before he finally caught it with a grunt and muttered something under his breath. Didn't look like he had any urgency—or interest, for that matter.
I shook my head. How did he get picked for this?
Amelia must've noticed too. Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds, sharp and unreadable, before she returned to the task at hand.
The rest of the hangar was locked in.
You could feel it—boots clanking, suits activating, final checks being run. Everyone here had a purpose. Everyone except maybe him.
I took a breath and stepped off the wall mount, exoskeleton groaning softly as it adjusted to my weight. Each movement felt deliberate now.
"Listen up, everyone," Amelia continued, sliding her visor up so her voice carried across the hangar without the filter of comms.
Her tone sliced through the low murmur like a scalpel.
"As you all know, Colony Alpha—our first-wave exploratory site—went dark three weeks ago. No distress signal, no communications. Just silence."
The hangar stilled. Every eye locked on her.
"Our mission is to descend, assess the situation, and report back. No heroics. No deviation. We've already completed part one—arrival and landing. Now comes the hard part."
I felt it shift.
That stillness before motion. Like the world itself had paused, waiting for the first step to break the silence. Excitement threaded through my nerves—not fear, not quite. Just focus. That clear, electric kind that told you something important was about to happen.
"Hey, Captain," a voice came through the comms, hesitant but curious. "I heard we're going to be splitting into teams. Mind if I ask why?"
It was Ella.
From what I knew, she was one of the mission's engineers—and supposedly some kind of scientific prodigy. I'd heard rumors about a Nobel Prize, though I never checked if that was true. Science wasn't exactly my area of interest, but even I could recognize someone with that kind of reputation.
Still, it wasn't just the credentials. She carried herself with a quiet confidence—light brown hair neatly tucked into her helmet, eyes the color of ice and just as sharp. She was older than me by a few years, but not by much. Fit, focused, and easy to talk to—one of those people who made an impression without trying. Probably part of why she was picked for this mission in the first place.
Amelia didn't miss a beat.
"The colony spans roughly 4.6 miles in every direction," she replied, her voice firm. "No signs of life on record. If we're going to find anything, we need to cover more ground. Splitting up is the fastest way to do that."
Straight to the point. Amelia dident wast a moment more.
"Since that's settled," she continued, "I'll assign teams now. Atlas Mercer and Henry Williams—you're together." Her gaze flicked to me, and then to Henry, who offered a quick nod through his visor.
"Once we breach the perimeter, your job is to inspect the life support systems. Ella Adams, Emily Carter, and I will handle the western sector. Dr. Benjamin, Owen Simmons, and Ethan Mitchell, you'll take the east."
With that, no one had any more questions.
"Finish getting suited up," Amelia concluded, the finality in her voice leaving no room for delay.
With a mechanical groan, the ship's main ramp began to lower. Hydraulic arms hissed as the seal broke, revealing a wall of Martian wind and red dust that slammed into us like a freight train. The air outside was a churning storm of rust-colored sand—visibility maybe ten feet at best.
A chorus of system alerts pinged softly inside my helmet as environmental sensors adjusted.
I stepped forward.
The boots of my suit sank slightly into the gritty surface, the crunch of iron-rich soil barely audible under the roar of the storm. My heart beat steadily in my chest—fast, but controlled. The sky above was a dull pink haze, barely distinguishable from the storm itself. Everything outside the ramp looked… alien. Like stepping into a half-forgotten dream you'd never had.
I glanced over my systems. Suit integrity: optimal. Filters: stable. Seals: secure.
Still, I checked again.
My dark silver armor, glinted dully beneath the storm-muted light, dust already collecting in the grooves and vents. It was built to handle this. I wasn't worried.
"Everyone good?" I asked, my voice clean over the comms.
Henry gave a thumbs-up. "All set here. Let's get moving," he replied, voice laced with a nervous eagerness.
A soft burst of static crackled before Amelia's voice came through. "Alright, team. Follow the nav map on your wrist consoles. Stay close, and keep your comms open. No wandering off."
I tapped the display on my wrist. A thin blue line stretched out from our position—overlaid across the dusty, low-res terrain data. The route to Colony Alpha blinked ahead like a distant promise.
We moved out—boots rising and falling in rhythm as the line of us trudged into the storm. Our suits absorbed the worst of the impact, but the wind was relentless, sand striking the armor in rapid bursts like a thousand tiny needles.
Visibility shrank with every step, but we didn't slow down.
"Can you believe this storm?" Henry's voice crackled through the comms, half-laugh, half-groan. "It's like Mars is giving us a proper welcome."
"Not exactly the red carpet treatment," I replied, my eyes locked on the ground ahead. The terrain shifted constantly beneath us, with each step a contest of traction and balance.
The storm hadn't let up. If anything, it was worse—wind like a living thing, screaming around us with no intention of stopping. Visibility barely stretched beyond a few feet, everything else swallowed by rust-colored static. I had to check the nav path every few steps just to be sure we were still on track.
But then, through the swirling haze… we saw it.
Colony Alpha.
The dome emerged like a monolith from the storm, towering and silent. It absorbed the wind around it, casting a strange buffer of stillness in its immediate shadow. The structure itself was massive, with thick, reinforced panels caked with layers of Martian dust. It didn't look welcoming in the slightest. It seemed completely dead.
The kind of dead that made your gut twist.
"Hey, anyone else feel like we're walking into a horror movie?" Ella's voice broke through, just enough levity to remind us we weren't alone in this.
Henry chuckled. "If something jumps out at us, I'm blaming you for jinxing it."
The joke earned a few soft laughs across the comms, but no one really disagreed. The silence ahead of us—the void inside that dome—was the kind of quiet that didn't sit right.
The wind roared louder as we reached the entrance. A massive airlock built into the dome's eastern wall loomed in front of us. Amelia approached first, tablet in hand. Her fingers moved quickly, copying the password from the mission file and tapping it into the keypad beside the hatch.
A sharp beep.
Then a mechanical hiss.
The door slid open with slow precision, revealing a dim corridor lined with flickering emergency lights.
"Alright," Amelia said, her voice echoing inside the chamber. "Everyone in."
We stepped through quickly. The moment the door shut behind us, the silence hit like a punch. No wind. No static. Just the hollow stillness of the airlock. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The suit felt heavier now that the adrenaline was ebbing.
Amelia moved to a control panel mounted beside the door and pulled a lever. "This will seal the outer door and start the decontamination process," she explained.
With a hum, the sequence began.
Tiny nozzles embedded in the walls rotated, hissing out a fine mist that coated our armor. The sound of the low hisses, and the soft mechanical rhythm was strangely comforting. It meant that the system still worked.
A green light flickered on above the inner door.
And with a step, Amelia moved to the second lever and pulled it down.
Another door slid open, revealing a narrow passage… and yet another sealed entrance. These systems were designed for redundancy. Safety protocols layered like armor.
We passed through the second set and waited. The final door opened with a sluggish groan.
And then we were inside the colony.
Buildings rose around us—low, utilitarian, shaped for efficiency over comfort. All dark. No motion. The entire interior was cast in dim reds and greys, emergency lights throwing long shadows across metal walls and dusty walkways.
There was no movement. Only the silence that surrounded us until
Amelia's voice broke the spell. "Alright, everyone. Regroup. Check your gear. We move as soon as we're secure."
"Got it," I said, voice low but steady. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
We spread out across the open floor, each of us double-checking our suits and gear. It was procedure—muscle memory at this point—but it helped to keep the nerves at bay.
The biosphere was massive. Once designed to mimic a safe, livable environment for long-term habitation. Now… it just felt like a grave. The wind still screamed outside, muffled by layers of steel and reinforced glass. In here, the silence was worse. Too clean, almost like something was maintaining it. The only sounds came from our suits—soft servos, filtered breathing, the occasional crackle of comms like static in a dead signal.
We moved through the streets—if you could call them that. Lanes of packed dust and smooth alloy lined by structures that hadn't seen life in weeks. Stores, housing units, service buildings. All untouched. All abandoned.
Every footstep felt too loud.
"Do you think anyone made it out?" I asked, voice quiet. Not really expecting an answer—just needing to give the thought shape.
Henry glanced at me. His green eyes behind the visor were tight with focus, but I could see the question had hit him, too.
"I honestly don't know," he replied. "But we should keep looking. Someone might've survived, right?"
A pause. Then, almost to himself, he added, "I just can't imagine how this even happened. No distress signal. No malfunction reports. They just… vanished."
I let the silence hang for a second before I answered. "Let's just hope that whatever happened to them won't happen again."
He nodded. Not much else to say.
We continued our sweep—quiet and methodical. Boots crunching over thin layers of dust. Buildings loomed around us like sentinels, all hollow eyes and locked doors. It wasn't hard to imagine we were being watched, even though every scan said otherwise.
The tablet on my forearm pinged softly. I checked the screen.
"Atmospheric Control Center's just ahead," I said, motioning toward a circular structure partially obscured by support beams and overhead pipes. It looked intact—no structural damage, no signs of breach.
Henry stepped forward and tried the door. It gave with a low groan and swung open into darkness.
We entered cautiously.
Lights blinked on overhead in response to our motion, slow, flickering strips that lit the room in a pale, white glow. Machinery lined the walls, consoles and readouts glowed softly. Nothing out of place. No damage. No blood. Just… empty.
"Looks like it's still running," I said, eyeing the stable readouts across the control panel. Oxygen levels, circulation, filtration—everything in the green.
"Yeah," Henry agreed, stepping up beside me. "Still, I'll double-check. Better safe than dead."
His fingers moved with practiced precision as he began the inspection. I followed his lead, checking the valve integrity and pressure seals as he rattled off system names and expected readings. The hum of the machines filled the room, steady and calm, a heartbeat in the silence.
If the colony had a soul, this was it.
"Looks like everything's in order," Henry finally said, exhaling with just a touch of relief.
"Let's hope it stays that way," I replied, reaching up to unlatch my helmet. The seal hissed as I removed it and took my first breath of filtered Martian air.
It was clean and dry, while also being a bit Cold. But breathable.
I toggled the comms. "Life support is functional. Everything checks out."
A pause.
Then Amelia's voice came through, slightly muffled by the storm static: "Copy that. Start heading to the center."
We didn't hesitate.
Back outside, the inner dome's ambient lights cast long shadows across the colony's core. The buildings seemed to press in tighter here, clustered like they were hiding something between them. The deeper we went, the heavier it felt, like the silence was watching.
Each step forward sank a little deeper into tension.
We crossed into one of the outer structures—a residential block shaped like a cluster of domes, each linked by narrow extendable corridors. The layout felt almost cozy in design, but what we found inside stripped that illusion bare.
Scattered toys.
A teddy bear, worn but well-loved, lay abandoned near the entrance.
I stopped, kneeling to pick it up. My gloves brushed against the faded fabric.
"I don't know what people were thinking," I muttered. "Bringing kids here."
Henry glanced over, his helmet tilted toward the bear. His eyes lingered longer than I expected. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It doesn't sit right."
We didn't dwell on it. There wasn't time for sentiment.
"Let's split up," he suggested. "Search each section. We'll cover more ground."
I nodded and moved down one of the corridors, alone.
The rooms were in disarray—tables overturned, lights flickering overhead, drawers emptied. It wasn't just abandoned. It looked panicked. Rushed. Like someone had torn through these rooms trying to grab whatever they could before fleeing.
But it was the footprints that caught my attention.
Scuffed boot marks in the dust. Running. Some small, some large. All headed in different directions. No order just Just chaos.
And then they stopped.
They hadn't left the house no… they just vanished. No sign of a struggle. Just… gone.
I stepped out of a side structure, likely a repair station with tools still humming on standby, when Amelia's voice cut across the comms.
"All units. Regroup at my location. Now."
Her tone was flat, but not calm.
It carried weight.
"We're on our way," I replied, and Henry fell in beside me as we followed the map coordinates toward the colony's industrial core.
That's when we saw it.
At first, I thought it was just another piece of equipment—some mining tower, maybe. But then I realized the scale. And the shape.
A monolith.
It rose out of the earth like a buried blade—obsidian black, matte and absolute. Light didn't reflect off its surface. It didn't glint. It didn't cast a clear shadow. It just… absorbed. Not just light, but sound as if nothing could escape it.
I could feel it before I reached it—a low vibration humming through my chest, like my heartbeat had found a second rhythm.
As I approached, I lowered my rifle, though my fingers stayed curled around the grip. Nothing in the area seemed hostile, but every instinct I had was telling me we weren't alone.
Ella was already there, crouched near the base of the structure, her scanner sweeping slowly along its side. She didn't look up when we arrived. Just stared at her readout, brow furrowed.
Amelia broke the silence. "Ella. What are we looking at?"
The scientist shook her head slightly, eyes never leaving her device.
"I've been scanning this thing since we found it," she said. "And according to every reading I have—it's not here."
Henry blinked. "Not here? I mean—I see it."
"So do I," Ella replied. "But the instruments don't. It's like it's out of sync with our world. Not emitting light, not reflecting it. Not radiating any heat, no electromagnetic signature. It's just… phasing in."
I stared up at it.
It didn't make sense. Nothing about it made sense. It wasn't wrong in a way you could describe. It was wrong in the way silence is ominous when you expect noise. The way a room feels colder after a dream you can't remember.
Owen stepped closer, his eyes locked onto the thing as if it held them in its grasp. With a hesitant voice, he spoke up. But just barely. "S-so… what should we do?"
Ella stood, her gaze still fixed on the monolith. "It's physical. That much I'm sure of. Feels like it ruptured through the surface—was probably buried here for centuries, maybe longer. I need to run a ground-penetrating radar scan. If we're lucky, the facility nearby should have one. But either way… we need time."
Her eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the last light of day was quickly fading. The shadows here weren't just longer—they felt heavier.
"And we need shelter," she added. "Sun's going down. We should set up camp before dark."
"I'll check the nearby buildings for food," Benjamin offered, already turning toward one of the storage units with the kind of quiet resolve that didn't ask for permission.
"Alright," Amelia replied then turned to the rest of us. "Let's set up camp here for the night. Ethan, help Benjamin with the meal. Henry, Atlas—make sure the perimeter's clear."
We moved into motion without a word. After everything we'd seen, the idea of sleep felt distant, but the routine helped. It gave our tired minds something to do. Something to focus on besides the monolith looming behind us like a silent judge.
Benjamin didn't take long. "Found supplies!" he called out from within a squat, boxy structure near the edge of camp.
Moving to help with camp, we spent some time pitching our tents in a tight semicircle nearby. Tarps. Ground pads. Power cells. It wasn't much, but it would hold for a night.
Ella was off to the side, half-buried in wires and sensor rods. She'd scavenged a ground-penetrating radar rig from one of the science depots and was already mapping the subsurface terrain. Her focus was absolute—every motion precise, like she was working a puzzle only she could see.
I watched from the makeshift table—just a few metal barrels stacked with a salvaged flat top—resting my arms across my knees.
"You thinking about calling it a night?" I asked her, voice cutting through the soft murmur of camp activity.
"Just a couple more points to scan," she replied without looking up. She drove another probe into the dirt, the soft thunk barely audible.
"Alright, have fun," I said, pushing myself up and heading to the tents.
I powered down my suit, the systems hissing as pressure lines disconnected. A faint chill touched my skin as I peeled out of the exoskeleton and stepped into the Martian night air.
By the time I joined the others around the firepit—little more than a set of heating coils arranged beneath a flickering light—we'd already started digging into whatever Benjamin and Ethan had managed to throw together.
Dehydrated rations. Rehydrated stew. Protein bars with all the appeal of compressed gravel.
But it was warm.
"These rations aren't too bad," Henry said between bites, lifting his bowl. "Reminds me of the old stuff my dad kept in his storm shelter. Same weird texture."
"Yeah, not exactly gourmet," I replied, "but right now, I'll take anything that isn't freeze-dried disappointment."
Amelia chuckled, sitting beside us, the campfire light glinting in her visor as she leaned back on her arms. "We'll earn a real meal when we get back. For now, let's survive the mystery and try not to starve."
There wasn't much else to say after that.
The laughter faded, as the wind carried on in the distance, brushing against the outer domes like a breath held too long. The monolith stood beyond the lights of our camp—silent and unmoving. No one seemed to want to talk about it as if just speaking of it could cause something.
After dinner, I took first watch. My time was spent in utter silence as I, watched the silent buildings around us, but nothing moved. Nothing changed. Just the low hum of the camp, and the faint vibration of the monolith bleeding into the back of my skull if I stood still long enough.
When my shift ended, I walked over to Ethan's tent and nudged it with my boot.
"Your turn," I murmured, and his groggy grunt was all the reply I got before he rolled out, bleary-eyed and muttering to himself.
I stepped into my own tent, peeled off the outer layers of my undersuit, and lay down.
For a moment, I just watched the monolith through the open flap—its surface smooth and featureless, yet impossible to ignore. The darkness around it seemed to bend, like even light was reluctant to linger too long in its presence.
I closed my eyes.
But sleep didn't come easily.
Because something about that thing wasn't right.
And I think… it knew I was watching.
At some point, sleep must have taken me. But if it did, it didn't feel like rest. Not even close.
I was weightless.
Suspended in an endless void, where shadows moved like dancers—fluid, hypnotic, and wrong. They spiraled and twisted through the air, forming shifting patterns I couldn't decipher. They didn't obey gravity. They didn't follow anything.
And then came the sound.
A thunderous wave of it, like a thousand war horns erupting all at once. It was pure pressure. It rattled my bones, tore through my chest, and left only silence in its wake.
And then... it was there.
The monolith.
It didn't walk. It didn't rise. It just was—sudden and immovable, like it had always existed and I was only now catching up. My breath caught in my throat. It loomed over me, the scale impossible, in its suffocating presence.
The world twisted.
The ground blurred beneath my feet, and the air folded in on itself. I was pulled forward, weightless again, until I stood inches from the surface. My hand moved on its own.
I touched it.
And it was warm.
Not the heat of danger. Not yet. It was the kind of warmth you only noticed in contrast—the kind you feel near a fire after being cold too long. It wrapped around my fingers, crawled up my arm, filled my chest like breath.
Then—
Black.
Everything snapped to darkness.
I jolted upright.
Air caught sharp in my lungs as my eyes shot open. My heart pounded—too fast, too hard. My breath came in ragged bursts.
And I wasn't in my tent.
I was standing.
Outside.
The monolith was directly in front of me.
No dream this time. No haze. Just cold reality.
And my hand… was in it.
The surface of the monolith had swallowed my palm whole. No seam. Just fused—like my body and this thing no longer knew where one ended and the other began.
Panic exploded through me.
I pulled back with everything I had. Nothing. It held me like a vice. A low hum began to rise from within the structure, reverberating through my arm up into my chest and then my skull.
Then the heat came.
Not warmth.
Fire.
It spread in pulses—each wave hotter than the last—like molten metal crawling under my skin. I screamed, though I couldn't hear it. Couldn't think. The pain became everything. My vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in like ink dropped in water.
And then—
Release.
My hand was free.
I stumbled back, gasping, falling to my knees. Clutching my arm. Waiting for blisters, burns, and blood.
But there was nothing.
My hand was completely whole and Untouched.
Not even a mark.
Then the ground shifted beneath me.
A tremor. No—a convulsion. The Earth didn't just shake. It twisted, like something beneath the surface was waking up.
Cracks split the monolith's surface, glowing faintly for a split second before fracturing outward in jagged, spiderweb veins.
And then it broke.
Like glass.
The surface collapsed in on itself, turning fluid and rippling like disturbed water.
And from that collapse… something poured out.
A thick, black liquid. Viscous and Endless. It gushed from the heart of the monolith like blood from a wound. It wasn't water, nor was it oil. It moved as if it were alive. Crawling over the ground in a thousand slithering rivulets.
I ran.
Or tried to.
The ground buckled beneath me, rising and falling like breathing lungs. Each step felt like fighting gravity—like the rules of physics had been rewritten and no one told my legs.
The tide of black surged closer.
It wasn't just a flood—it was a devouring.
Everything it touched vanished. Not drowned—erased. Gone.
The cold hit first. Then the pull.
My vision dimmed.
The last thing I saw was the sky breaking open above me—veins of void cutting through the stars.
Then darkness swallowed everything.