Scavengers
Thursday 10th of January 2019 02:49:31 PM CDT

SCAVENGERS by Scavanon

Tags: (post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, alien invasion, plot-heavy, violence, blood/gore)
(MHuman x Fxeno) (insectoid, shortstack, size difference (Mf), pheromone-induced sex, scents, alien vagina, womb penetration)

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“Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse.”									--H.P. Lovecraft

CHAPTER 1: Close Encounters

	The interior of what used to be a hardware store stood motionless in the dark, acting as a mausoleum for tools and materials for basic construction and home repair. Thick layers of dust had long since covered every surface and loose objects were strewn across the floor. The store had entered a perpetual state of irrelevance; no customers came to peruse its contents. No employees on the clock to stock the shelves and clean up the mess. It had been left to wither and die, just like the rest of the city.
	The eerie silence was at last interrupted by a click and the harsh squeaking of the front door. Light poured into the room and a chilly wind blew away papers and other light baubles from their resting places. The dust began to rise off the counter and into the air, as if the dead had been roused from their sleep, and the particles happily danced in the light as the establishment welcomed its first visitor in several months.
	The figure in the doorway took a few steps forward, rifle at the ready for any nasty surprises lurking inside. Broken glass crinkled under his boots as he cautiously scanned each aisle for signs of life, human or not. Once he was sure that he was the only soul around, he exhaled and relaxed his stance. He removed the hood that shrouded his face, revealing his chestnut hair, pale face and a thin beard that was covered in a layer of frost.
	His hazel eyes casually observed his surroundings. He had been in here a few times before, when the shop was still in business, that is. He was sent to pick up some supplies for a work-related project, pretty tame stuff compared to his current profession. The absence of cheerful music coming from the loudspeakers and the kind old lady behind the register were quick to remind him of how much had changed in so little time. He wondered if she was still alive…
	A second person entered the abandoned store not long after he did. Her military fatigues clashed heavily with the man’s more casual civilian attire--a simple hoodie and jeans. The digital camouflage was topped by a black fleece jacket, olive combat vest, and solid-colored scarf that partially obscured her tanned face. Atop her head, a camo cap with insignias denoting her rank and unit.
	The woman took several disinterested glances at the half-empty shelves. She obviously was not as enthusiastic to be here as he was. After a few seconds, she finally voiced her complaints.
	“See? There’s nothing here, Gav,” she said as she loosened the scarf around her neck. “It was picked clean months ago.”
	Gavin merely glanced at her for half a second before switching on the L-shaped flashlight on his backpack strap. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he quipped before making his way down one of the aisles. “Down here.”
	His companion sighed impatiently before following him. They were a few hours into their supply run and had already obtained most of the items on their list. It was getting late and it was better if they returned to the bunker before nightfall, but Gavin had insisted on taking a small detour. It turned out this ‘small detour’ had taken them several blocks off of their intended path, all for the promise of supplies that may not even exist. A 'hunch', he called it.
	She groveled internally about this fool’s errand as Gavin led her to the back of the store, where they reached a set of double swing doors with an ‘Employees Only’ sign. Gavin grasped the left handle and pushed it until meeting resistance with an audible ‘clack’. He then tried the right door. Same result. 
	His gloved hand felt along the latch and found the culprit impeding their progress; a steel padlock connecting the two doors at the center.
	“Of course,” he mused, holding the lock delicately in his grip, the light from his flashlight reflecting off the polished metal. He turned back to his partner. “Cutters?”
	“Yeah,” She slung her rifle over her shoulder and reached behind her head, retrieving a pair of bolt-cutters, the handles of which were protruding slightly from the top of her backpack. Gavin took a step back as she worked her magic.
	Placing herself and the cutters at the right angle, she positioned the tongs at the ring of the lock and clamped down. The transferred force bent the steel and snapped it in two, causing the futile security measure to fall to the floor when she pulled away.
	Gavin let out a small chuckle and patted her on the shoulder before continuing through the door unimpeded. He held it open behind him for her to walk through and began shining his flashlight over every inch of the room. A toothy grin began to spread across his face.
	“You see, Alex?” he said as he motioned around the dark room. “You need to have more confidence in me.”
	Alex turned on her own flashlight to see what he was going on about. As her beam met his along the far wall, she saw row upon row of boxes on tall shelves, each with a label. Curiosity getting the better of her, she walked over and looked inside a box marked ‘DUCT TAPE’. Surely enough, it contained exactly what it said--about twenty rolls, she estimated, all neatly stacked on top of one another. 
	Alex looked back at Gavin, who was still looking at her expectantly, grinning ear to ear. She had to admit, the man knew how to be resourceful, even if his methods were a bit unorthodox. She gave a half-smile, deciding to be generous enough to give him a little credit but still being stubborn enough to not actually admit to being wrong.
	“Well, you know what they say about broken clocks,” she shrugged. He simply chuckled and began pulling boxes off the shelves.
	They spent the next few minutes searching the room for any objects of interest. They had most of the necessary tools to make repairs back at the bunker, but what they needed was materials; adhesives, metals, and interchangeable parts. The pair had already collected everything that the boss had sent them out for today, but a little surplus couldn’t hurt.
	Gavin had made his way to the opposite end of the room where more containers awaited him, and paused as something in particular caught his eye. He eagerly pulled a box off the topmost shelf, set it on the ground and began unfolding it with about as much grace as a child on Christmas morning.
	“Jackpot!” he yelled, which caught Alex’s attention as she was stuffing a small box of rivets into her pack. Gavin reached into the box and tossed something to her. She caught it unceremoniously between her arm and torso and held it in front of her light to examine it.
	Gavin never thought he would be this excited to find coils of copper wire, but the electrical systems inside the bunker were ancient and vulnerable to brownouts. The flickering lights drove him absolutely nuts. With this and a bit of rubber insulation, he could do some serious rewiring work. It would certainly keep him busy for a while.
	“Congratulations,” Alex said with not even a hint of sincerity in her voice. She tossed the coil back to him. “Now, if we’re finished here, I’d like to get back to base before the sun goes down.”
	“Be done in a minute,” Gavin responded, still ecstatic about his find. He pulled back the zipper on his backpack and began stuffing as many spools as could inside. He then stood up and followed Alex out the door.
	Their trek through the store to the front entrance was cut short by noises outside. Through the fogged-up windows Gavin and Alex could see movement—some of it big and hulking, others small and scurrying. An unsettling chorus of machine warbling and high-pitched metallic whines give them the most obvious of clues as to who they were up against.
	THEY were here.
	“Back door,” Gavin hissed frantically as they began to double back. They reached a doorway which lead out to a small, snow-covered loading dock, the chilled wind biting at their faces as the exited. Bringing their rifles in front of them, they scanned the alleyway for any other hostiles.
	“Clear.” Alex reported, her brown eyes squinting from the setting sun in front of her.
	“Clear.” Gavin said back. A sudden gust of wind tangled his hair and sent small crystalline snowflakes from a nearby rooftop to cut at his face.
	Once they were assured that they weren’t being followed, the pair made their way down a perpendicular alley, emerging on an adjacent avenue. To their left was a perfect view of the city center in the distance. Perfect if not for the empty husks of buildings and the enormous alien ship looming overhead.
	Philadelphia had certainly seen better days. There were no humans left alive in the business and government district which made up the heart of the city, though no one would dare venture there to confirm it. The monolithic ship created a menacing silhouette over the skyline, black as night no matter what time of day it was, with small blue lights dotting its exterior. Its shape was an elongated ellipsoid, stretching across the entire length of the city.
	Gavin took several sideways glances at the ship as they travelled across the road. The sight was absolutely surreal, almost hypnotic. Each time he emerged from the bunker he would look toward the city in hopes that the ship had left overnight. Each time he was left disappointed.
	After passing in between the many abandoned vehicles that lined the street, they reached the row of buildings on the other side and the city center disappeared from view. Gavin and Alex began to zig-zag through the gridlocked streets, and as they were about to pass another intersection, more movement to their immediate left stopped them dead in their tracks.
	Alex only needed half a second’s glance to realize what it was. She darted back down the street they came and forcibly pulled Gavin with her, making them take cover behind a rusted SUV.
	She peered around the vehicle as the creature slowly lumbered its way through the snow-covered intersection, leaving a slimy trail in its wake. It looked to be a slug, but not like the ones native to Earth. This one was gigantic, about the size of a heavy duty pickup truck. It was pale yellow in color and had several orange stripes adorn its back and sides. The front of the colossus stood somewhat upright, with two small T-rex-like arms twitching from the middle of its body. On its ‘head’ was a large black helmet. Four bright blue lights shown from the helmet’s face, probably its eyes, which illuminated the street in the growing twilight. Of note was a bowl-shaped launcher of some sort on its back, which hummed and glowed an electric yellow from its barrel.
	Around the perimeter of the makeshift tank were about fifteen or so smaller critters, also of the insect variety, though more resembling crickets that walked upright. They stood about three feet in height and were clad in matte black armor, protecting their entire bodies except for their heads, which showed off their dark purple faces and insectoid blood-red eyes. Lithe, animal-like legs allowed them to deftly maneuver through the uneven snow, their antennae quivering in search of any disturbances.
	The column of xenos reached the middle of the crossroad before the entire unit simultaneously came to a stop. Alex quickly ducked behind the taillight as Gavin continued to watch them through the tinted windows of the car. A cacophony of robotic noises resonated throughout the entire group as the bugs started to turn their heads in every direction.
	All of a sudden, one of the bugs planted its eyes on the SUV and rotated its entire body to face it. Gavin’s eyes widened. It looked as if the alien was staring right at him, though he was unsure if it could actually see him through the windows. Gavin didn’t move a muscle and continued to stare, not wanting to make any sudden movements that would alert the aliens to his presence.
	As he kept up their staring contest, Gavin examined the small creature in fuller detail. Small blue lights dotted its armor plates on the shoulders, chest, and knees. It cradled its gun in front of its body, its small, three-fingered hands keeping a steady grip on the weapon. The xeno’s head was slightly rounded, with its eyes centered in the middle, much like a human’s. If the bugs were capable of making facial expressions, this bug didn’t give one. Its gaze was emotionless and glazed over, with a straight mouth and unblinking eyes.
	The only movement the cricket gave was from the erratic twitching of its antennae. Gavin then noticed that the bug’s right antenna was significantly smaller than its left. None of the other bugs seemed to have this defect, making this particular xeno quite unique, considering how conformist these aliens looked, appearance-wise.
	Before he could ponder it further, the alien emitted a harsh, metallic screech, alerting the rest of its kin. The bugs all pivoted towards the SUV and brought their guns to bear. The slug-tank also lurched in their direction. Its gun began to glow brighter and its eyes turned from a calm blue to a danger red.
	“Move!” Gavin screamed as he and his partner made a mad dash from behind the vehicle. They reached cover of another car parked crookedly in the street just as the bugs opened fire. The futuristic whines of their submachine guns echoed through the streets as orange lasers peppered the vehicle. The shots devastated the side of the car, blowing out the tires and tearing through the windows, sending molten glass out the other side and forcing the besieged humans to cover their heads.
	Alex weighed their options as she held her head down. She spotted a back alley a couple of meters behind them.
	“Head for the backstreet! I’ll cover you!” she shouted to him. Gavin needed no encouragement and nodded as he stood up slightly, ready to move.
	Alex waited for a lull in the fire before snapping to her feet and lined up the sights of her gun. She knew from experience that these aliens seemed to have no sense of self-preservation and didn’t run for cover when fired upon. Suppressive fire wouldn’t work here. She just needed the xenos to focus on her while Gavin made a run for it.
	She strafed to the right along the car as she squeezed off round after round in the general direction of the alien squad. One of the shots caught a bug in the chest and it collapsed to the ground in a heap as the rest of them returned fire. At the same time, Gavin sprinted like a madman towards the alleyway. Sensing that he was safely away, Alex emptied the rest of her magazine into another bug before spinning around and running after him, laser shots burning into the wall behind her.
	The bugs saw that their quarry was in retreat and quickly advanced after them. The slug-tank let out a sorrowful baritone, like a whale song with a robotic twinge to it, as the mouth of its gun began to glow more intensely. With a mechanical ‘THUMP’, a lambent projectile shot from the back-mounted cannon, arcing into the air like a second sun before beginning a fierce descent.
	As the two humans reached the entrance to the alleyway, they heard bloodcurdling shriek as the glowing sphere fell from the sky and impacted with a nearby car. Alex and Gavin recoiled as the projectile flattened the hood of the automobile with a deafening crunch, sending it off its rear wheels temporarily. Flames shot out from where the round had hit, fanning out in all directions, licking at their faces.
	It was all the convincing they needed to haul ass down the alley. Their boots kicked up snow and splashed through puddles. They would have been able to move faster if they didn’t have so much excess gear weighing them down. Gavin felt the contents of his backpack shake and rattle as he continued to leg it.
	“No risk, no reward,” he commented, attempting to lighten the mood.
	“Shut the fuck up!” Alex screamed, reloading her weapon as she ran. She retrieved a fresh magazine from her vest and slammed it into the receiver.
	By now, their pursuers had entered the alley and began firing again. The tank crawled its way forward and its gun spat once more. This time, it had adjusted its trajectory and the shot streaked over the human’s heads and struck the ground a few yards ahead of them. It was leading its shots now, hoping to land a killing blow, not where the humans were, but where they would soon be.
	The humans dodged around the still-burning crater and passed under a narrow iron archway at the end of the street with walls on both sides. It was barely large enough for both of them to pass through at once. There was no way the slug would fit.
	They continued to dash diagonally through the next road, motivated by their newfound luck. The slug had reached the gate and came to a slow halt. It wailed pitifully at the obstacle before it, trying to push its armored helmet through the gap. It still had a line of sight on the humans as they escaped across the street. Its gun cranked and rotated on a horizontal axis and prepared another shot.
	Gavin looked around, attempting to get his bearings. He noticed a pair of green street signs; intersection of Morris and South Broad. A right turn would mean a straight run to the bunker.
	He was brought out of his thoughts by what sounded like a screaming banshee behind him. Before he could discern what it was, the ground to his left shook and a searing wave of heat engulfed the side of his body. Gavin felt his feet leave the ground as the blast propelled him upward. His whole world spun and he felt vertigo as he flew through the air, which ended abruptly as his head and upper back rebounded off the roof of a taxi cab and he crashed into snow-covered sidewalk.
	Gavin gazed up at the dark blue sky as the sun had finally set and the darkness had come to envelop him. Stars danced in his vision and white noise droned in his ears. He thought he heard someone call his name, but he was too dazed to actually respond. The cold snow cradled his head and his eyes felt heavy, the promise of sleep threatening to overtake him…
	“GAV!” 
	His eyes shot back open and the sounds of a firefight filled his ears. Orange beams streaked through the air and hit the building behind him. He brought his head up and saw Alex a few meters away. She fired a few shots down the street and then ran towards him.
	“Gav, that gun has us zeroed,” she stated firmly as she knelt beside him. She pulled at his hooded sweatshirt. “We need to get off this street.”
	“Okay…” he mumbled, still in a daze. He looked to his right and spotted what remained of his backpack—reduced to tattered ribbons and laying further down the sidewalk. Various tools and supplies, everything he had collected today, including the copper, were spilled out into the snow.
	Another scream. The flaming mortar round crashed into the pavement near where the backpack lay. Its contents were either consumed in the resulting hellfire or dispersed further down the street.
	“No, not okay!” Alex barked as she started to pull him to his feet. “Get up! NOW!”
	Gavin sloppily stood back upright and followed Alex as she led him across the intersection. Behind them, the tank was still stuck, but the crickets had effortlessly scaled the wall and continued their chase, taking potshots at the humans as they nimbly sprinted down the white-layered street.
	Alex dove into a nearby restaurant with Gavin close behind, hoping to find overhead cover from the tank’s onslaught. They both took refuge behind the counter, preparing themselves for the advancing bugs.
	The opening in the counter stood parallel to the door, which gave Alex a good view of anything that wandered inside. She positioned herself at the corner and brought her rifle up as two glowing red eyes came into her line of sight. The lone cricket entered through the door without bothering to check its surroundings. Big mistake.
	Alex squeezed the trigger and a three-round burst hit the insect square in the head, depositing olive-colored ichor on the doorframe behind it. The creature was dead before it hit the floor.
	The other bugs climbing through the broken plate glass window noticed the death of their comrade and immediately concentrated their fire on Alex’s position, forcing her back into cover.
	Gavin had since regained most of his faculties and saw his partner pinned down, leaning behind the counter as laser shots peppered the wall behind her. He couldn’t just sit there. He needed to help her.
	He shuffled to the other end of the counter and popped his head over the top. He scanned for a target and pointed his rifle at the foremost bug in the group.
	He recognized it immediately. The bug with the short antenna. His trigger finger tightened.
	Gavin fired. The recoil of the gun hammered the stock against his shoulder. He was aiming for the chest, but the kickback combined with his mild dizziness threw the shot off by several inches. The round instead hit the alien in its armored shoulder plate.
	The force of the shot was enough the knock the small alien 180 degrees around, bringing it to its knees. The xeno dropped its weapon and brought its other arm to the ground in an attempt to support itself. Gavin re-centered his aim squeezed off another round.
	This one aimed more true and impacted with a circular module attached to the back of the insect’s head. The intruding bullet sent sparks flying from the small device. The alien let loose a pained shriek as it fell face-down on the hardwood floor.
	Two more crickets had closed the distance and hopped onto the surface of the counter in front of him. In his surprise he fired about dozen rounds into the one on the left, killing it instantly, before being tackled by the one on the right. The alien wrapped its tiny limbs around Gavin’s head and shoulders, causing the human to lose his balance and fall.
	The xeno managed to pin Gavin’s torso and right arm down with a surprising amount of strength. It used its free hand to level its submachine gun towards Gavin’s head. Gavin brought up his left arm and fought to point the weapon anywhere else.
	A camo-colored combat boot then slammed into the alien’s face, throwing it off of its human opponent, the bug’s weapon flying from its grasp and sliding across the floor. It uttered robotic gibberish as it became trapped under the weight of Alex’s knee. She swung her rifle around and brought the butt plate down onto the alien’s cranium. It only took two strikes to cave its skull in and silence it for good.
	Alex got back up and extended a hand to Gavin, which he accepted, and the two of them burst through the double doors that led to the kitchen as more bugs swarmed into the restaurant. They both knew they couldn’t keep this up forever. They were running low on ammunition, and if they didn’t find a way out, the bugs would have them cornered.
	Gavin fired a few rounds into an insect trying to climb through a small order window as he ran to the far side of the room, where a door stood next to a large gas oven. He charged at the door, leading with his shoulder, hoping to break through in one fluid motion, but instead collided with the immovable barrier, sending a sharp pain through his entire arm.
	Alex bumped into him, wondering why he had stopped. Her attention quickly turned to the aliens behind them, who were pouring into the room at an alarming rate. The bugs began firing their weapons again, with the oven providing little to no cover. Alex pressed her back to Gavin, trying to conceal herself as much as possible. She switched her rifle’s firing mode to single-shot, hoping to conserve her ammo.
	“Gav, any day!” she desperately called to him, putting a round into a bug crouched in the window. It bounced off the counter below and hit the tiled floor, blood leaking out of its wound.
	Gavin frantically jiggled the doorknob and thrashed his aching shoulder against it again for good measure. No dice.
	He looked behind him. The xenos were completely relentless, their weapon fire searing holes into the aluminum oven, their only cover. A stray shot ruptured a gas line connected to the oven from the ceiling; the tubing caught fire and released a jarring hiss.
	“Oh, fuck me…” Gavin muttered. Now or never.
	He speared the handle of the door with his gun barrel and let loose a barrage of lead. His blood pumped as he saw the door give a few inches. Gavin shoved the mangled handle and the door finally swung away.
	“Let’s go!” he shouted as he exited the kitchen, pulling Alex behind him. The bugs continued to move forward on their fleeing prey.
	Their initiative was halted by a sudden flash of light, followed by an enormous fireball that engulfed the entire room.
	The lightweight insects were tossed into the air as the oven exploded, crashing into the walls and shattering their exoskeletons. The force of the blast hurled the two humans out the door and into the driven snow.
	Alex had landed on top of Gavin and hastily recovered, scooping up her gun from the ground and aiming toward the flame-licked doorframe in case any more hostiles miraculously showed themselves. Her brain was still in survival mode as she rose to her feet and cautiously moved toward the door, battle-ready.
	“Alex-“
	She ignored him as she reentered the burning kitchen. The inferno from the blackened carcass of the oven spread itself along the walls and floor, lighting up the room as Alex swept her gun from right to left.
	Alien corpses were strewn about the room. The insects were disfigured and burnt to a near crisp. Some of them had bits of metal lodged in various parts of their bodies, with greenish blood trickling out and pooling on the floor.
	In the corner, one bug was still moving. Alex slowly strode toward it. Chunks of its armor were blown away, revealing its charred violet carapace underneath. The tiny alien coughed weakly, its breaths a series of high-pitched wheezes. Its limbs twitched erratically and its glowing red eyes fluttered as it seemed to look pleadingly at the human towering over it.
	Alex continued to watch as the xeno struggled to cling to life. It was a problem to which she only knew one solution.
	She angled the muzzle of her rifle toward the alien’s head, her face neutral, and fired a single shot. Its entire body gave one final convulsion before going completely still.
	She lowered her gun and turned, walking silently out the door.
	When she emerged, Gavin was already on his feet, dusting the snow off of his rifle. He looked up at her as she slowly descended the steps.
	“Well, that was-“
	He didn’t finish as Alex grabbed a handful of his hoodie and pushed his entire body toward a nearby dumpster. The bin reverberated as his back made contact with it.
	He stared at her in surprise. Alex kept her grip on him, her face twisted into a menacing scowl. Wide, red-veined eyes stared daggers into his soul.
	She was angry at him, that much he could tell, but her face conveyed more than that. The bags under the eyes. Nostrils flaring in rapid succession. It was the face of someone who was tired of it all. Gavin braced himself for the verbal lashing that was to come, or maybe she would skip that pleasantry and go straight to kicking his ass.
	Instead, she slowly let go of his sweatshirt, her balled fist turning into a finger as she poked him accusingly. She finally spoke.
	“You owe me five hundred drinks after this is all over,” Alex sourly told him. She let go of him, turned around, and began her long trek back to the bunker.
	Gavin lowered his head and let out a defeated sigh. He sprinted to catch up with her.
	“If it was that much trouble, you should’ve just left me there.” he calmly retorted.
	Alex kept her eyes on the road, her irritated expression unchanging.
	“Too easy,” she said flatly.
	The two scavengers walked off into the darkness, heading toward the outskirts of the city, more than ready to leave the chaos of the evening behind.

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THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #43: “Notes on Xeno Classifications”, retrieved from the personal journal of Army Specialist Alexandra Torres, United States Army National Guard, dated January 10, 2030

“Don’t know why I’m still writing in this, after everything that’s happened. Posterity, I guess. Work continues in the bunker as usual, but supplies or materials run short on occasion and we have to search the city for more. Temperature’s dropping every day and our new friends seem to be getting bolder, moving out from their usual hotspots in the center of the city.

Speaking of the xenos, I should probably make notes concerning the different types we’ve encountered—what they look like, best ways to kill them, etc. since it looks like we’ll be stuck fighting them for the long haul. Maybe I could compile it all into a guide for military use later on, or maybe some poor sap will loot this journal from my corpse and use my notes to help them survive better than I did. In any case…

Crickets
Bug-like xenos, purple shells, antennae, red eyes (glow in the dark!), three feet tall on average
Probably the most common type of xeno we’ve seen so far. They seem to be used as fast and effective shock troops. Often travel in groups of 10 or more. Can use antennae to sense prey from great distances (hiding is useless!).
The crickets are equipped with light armor that can be penetrated with the most basic of small arms, but they have strength in numbers and can swarm an entire squad if they’re not careful.
Best strategy: Pick off individually from a distance before they have a chance to regroup and counterattack. Alternative strategy: Bottleneck maneuver. Lure bugs into a narrow space and concentrate fire.

Slugs
GIANT slug xenos, estimated 7-8 feet tall, 10 feet long from head to toe, yellow/orange colorings on body.
These xenos act as mobile and stationary artillery pieces. Equipped with a mortar launcher of sorts (can adjust for direction and distance) and a seemingly indestructible helmet to protect its head.
Their guns fire a semisolid arc projectile, dangerously hot and highly combustible. Substance unknown, but a direct hit is certain death. Keep moving if you don’t want to be reduced to a red paste.
Best strategy: Unknown as of this writing. We haven’t been able to kill one of these things yet. The body seems to absorb gunfire without as much as a flinch from the creature itself. Explosives might have a more desired effect. Field study recommended.

“Gavin”
Human (?) civilian, brown hair, gray eyes, beard
My scaving partner for the last month and a half. No respect for authority and highly unpredictable. Does not mesh well with military regimen.
Bright side is he can fix damn near anything and knows the city like the back of his hand. If it weren’t for that, Captain Nash would’ve had him thrown out months ago. 
To anyone who reads this, avoid this person entirely. Trouble follows him around like a lost dog."

[HAND-DRAWN SKETCHES ENCLOSED IN TAB A]

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CHAPTER 2: Mindgap

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	The first thing that Mar’kaa felt was the headache.
	A seething pain beat to a steady tempo in the back of her skull. It was merciless, hitting its peak and then slowly receding, and when she attempted to move her body, the pain shot back up, sending needles through the inside of her head and leaving her paralyzed once again, as if something was punishing her for daring to move on her own.
	The agony subsided enough for her to feebly open her eyes. Mar’kaa brought a three-fingered hand to the back of her head in a vain effort to coax the pain away. As the pain stabbed its way through once more, she winced and tried to fight it this time, forcing herself to her hands and knees. The migraine retreated temporarily, allowing her to finally concentrate. The lopsided antennae above her head twitched as she gauged her surroundings.
	Even as her vision swirled, Mar’kaa could sense that something was wrong. The first thing she noticed was how incredibly cold it was. She shivered as the freezing air chilled her to the core. This definitely wasn’t the same place she was beforehand. What WAS she doing before this? The pain in her head pounded away once again, hindering her from remembering clearly.
	Her sight began to focus as her glowing eyes took in the room. Tables, chairs, and a counter lined the walls, too big and too high for someone of her stature. The counter and the wall behind it were freckled by scorch marks, and a brilliant firelight danced in the room beyond.
	“Where am I…” she mumbled weakly.
[VERIFYING...]
	Orange text rapidly blinked out of the corner of her left eye. Mar’kaa reflexively squeezed it shut with a gasp and brought her hand up to the left side of her face. The letters didn’t go away.
[ACCESSING LOCAL DATA FROM PRIMACY ARCHIVES…]
	Mar’kaa stared blankly as the words, written in her own language, scrolled from within her eyesight. Her heart hammered in her chest as her mind worked overtime trying to comprehend what was happening.
[COORDINATES LOCKED. CURRENT LOCATION OF CONDUIT 76847290: PHILADELPHIA, COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, NORTH AMERICAN CONTINENT, WESTERN HEMISPHERE, EARTH]
	Some of the words did not exist in her language; her native calligraphy instead broke them down into syllables that she could pronounce. Even then, she still recognized none of the place names, their meaning entirely lost on her.
	Mar’kaa removed her hand from her face and stared at it confusion. Her gaze travelled down her arm, then to the rest of her body, which was covered in some kind of armor. Next to her, laying on the floor, was a futuristic-looking weapon, along with a small modular device that she had never seen before, it’s casing cracked and split open.
	Her antennae twitched as she sensed another presence in the room. She turned her head to the right and what she saw added another item to her list of mysteries.
	A corpse.
	Mar’kaa jumped as she beheld the blank, lifeless eyes of her fellow yotje. She hesitantly crawled forward and brought a shaky hand to its face. It was a male, but he wasn’t anyone she recognized. Three small holes had bored into the center of his head. Dried blood made a crooked trail down the contours of his face and had gathered on the floor.
	As she focused on dead yotje, an electronic line intersected from him and more text appeared in her vision:
[FORAGER 56413062, STATUS: DECEASED]
	Mar’kaa noticed something resting underneath his head. She rolled his body over and saw another module, this one undamaged. It attached itself via small clamps that gripped strategic points on the back of the head like a vice. Mar’kaa looked back at the damaged one on the ground where she had woken up while gently touching the back of her head. Her headache throbbed as gears started to turn in her brain.
	Another shiver ran through her as the cold air encircled every inch of her. Hivemother, it was freezing! Her focus shifted to the flickering light coming from the next room, an obvious sign of flame, and with it, a source of warmth.
	“Fire…” she uttered deliriously, pushing herself to her feet. She wrapped her arms around her chest, desperate to retain what little body heat she had left. “…a fire would be nice…”
	As she moved behind the counter she discovered more bodies. She tried to avert her eyes as she moved forward, but the constant electronic displays in her vision were quick to remind her of their presence.
[FORAGER 66485397, STATUS: DECEASED]
	The yotje lay on her side. Digital dots materialized on her body, pointing out a series of projectile wounds she had received to her neck and upper chest.
[FORAGER 10352014, STATUS: DECEASED]
	Another female, this one lying on top of the counter, one arm dangling off the edge. Countless holes had perforated her torso.
[FORAGER 35600743, STATUS: DECEASED]
	The male was splayed on the floor; his head had been crushed inwardly by a blunt object.
	Mar’kaa attempted to control her breathing as she sidestepped the cadavers. She had never seen so much carnage. What had happened here? Some kind of battle? What were they fighting? She noticed that all of the other yotje were clad in the same black armor as her. Did that mean that she took part in all this somehow? That seems like something she would remember, so why couldn’t she?
	What was going on?
	She at last reached the doors that led to the back room. She swung them open with both hands and immediately wished that she hadn’t.
	The smell of burnt carapace flooded her as she recoiled at the ghastly sight. Littered about the room, encircling a large, burning machine, were the remains of nearly a dozen yotje. Their exoskeletons were splintered and crushed beyond recognition. Arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles. Embers lingered on their exposed faces, sizzling and crackling as their wounds reacted to the heat.
	That did it. Mar’kaa keeled over and released the contents of her stomach. She dropped to her knees as acid burned her throat and smoke stung her eyes. She entered a coughing fit and she desperately crawled back the way she came, pushing through the door and leaning herself against the wall, back in the cold once again.
	Mar’kaa stared off in wide-eyed hysteria as she struggled to regain her composure. She felt like she was losing her grip on reality, her brain filled with what’s and where’s and why’s. She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could and balled her fists around the small olfactory nodes at the ends of her antennae, hoping that she would wake up soon. Back to her normal life, which wasn’t a paradise by any stretch, but preferable to this.
	She shakily rose to her feet and returned to the front of the building, nearly tripping over one of the corpses as she did so. She needed to leave. Get away from the death and destruction. Maybe there were other yotje out there, living ones, that is, that could fill her in on what was going on.
	Before venturing outside, Mar’kaa picked up the damaged module from the floor where she woke up. She was a technician by trade, but even she couldn’t tell what it was just by looking at it. Hopefully she could take it apart later once she got her hands on some proper tools.
	She then walked over the corpse of the male, turning him over and prying the undamaged module from his head for good measure. She saw a neglected shoulder bag on one of the chairs, plain-looking and made from some kind of thick cloth. Mar’kaa put both modules inside and closed the flap, slinging the strap over her head and onto her opposite shoulder.
	Mar’kaa eyed the gun resting on the floor. She wasn’t a violent individual, but she didn’t know what she would encounter out there. The small Yotje hefted the weapon and held it delicately in her hands. She sighed, reluctantly stuffing it into the bag. She had seen constables wield weapons like these. How hard could it be?
	A sudden chilled wind bit at her as she exited the building, her boots crunching through the freezing white powder that covered the ground. She shielded her face with her arm as she looked around the desolate street. She was in a city, but it wasn’t like the hive-city that she grew up in. The streets were wider with the buildings spaced further apart, so much that she was able to see the sky from ground level. To her amazement, the night sky was mostly clear and completely unobstructed by the noxious pollution that normally hung over her home. Mar’kaa stared at the canvas of stars in an almost hypnotic trance before becoming dizzy and nearly falling over, disoriented. She wasn’t used to so much clean air and open space.
	Mar’kaa looked around her in all directions. The city was completely dark, the only illumination coming from the moon above and the massive ship that hung over the taller buildings in the distance.
	The ship.
	The floodgate in her mind opened up and the memories started to come back as Mar’kaa took in the sight of the behemoth in the sky. She remembered it all—she was at home, with her family, and then…
	Her thoughts drifted to them. She could only pray that they weren’t trapped in this nightmare like she was.
	With one final look around, Mar’kaa adjusted the strap of her bag and took off down a random street, into the dark unknown.

[…]
	
	Mar’kaa lost track of how far she walked or for how long. Her optical interface, or whatever it was, was gracious enough to provide her with a small map of the city, which lingered in the lower right corner of her vision, but without reference points of any sort, she wandered aimlessly. At times she would hear strange noises coming from further down a road, forcing her to alter her course. The streets and buildings all started to blend together as she trudged through the cold drifts.
	“This is hopeless,” Mar’kaa muttered to no one in particular. “Where am I supposed to go?”
[CONDUIT 76847290, PLEASE PROCEED ALONG THE HIGHLIGHTED ROUTE]
	A bright orange striation materialized within her view and blazed a trail down a street to her left. White dots flashed along the electronic line in a pattern as it travelled off into the distance, to the part of the city where the buildings were taller, near the ship.
	Mar’kaa took another uneasy glance at the monstrous craft levitating above the city. Her gaze went back to the holographic guideline that lead down the street, then back up to the ship again.
	“No thanks,” she replied derisively, and strode in the opposite direction.
	Clouds had moved in from behind her and tiny crystalline flakes began to descend from the sky. The wind started to pick up again and blew the squall in Mar’kaa’s direction. She held up her arm to protect her uncovered face from the assault.
	As she trekked through yet another crossroad, she stepped into a large hole in the pavement that was partially concealed by the snow. She brought her foot down, expecting to hit solid ground but found none, and lost her balance. She stumbled face-first into the frozen fluff.
	Mar’kaa let out a frustrated groan as she bent her arms and lifted her now-wet face from the cold mass. This wasn’t working—the weather was getting worse and the armor she wore did nothing to insulate her body. She had lost all feeling in her toes and fingers. If she did not find shelter soon, she was going to freeze to death.
	She got to her feet and looked around, the prospect of life or death now motivating her to take action. As Mar’kaa squinted through the whiteout, she saw a light, the first one she had seen in a long while. 
	She made her way toward it. The droplets on her face began to crystalize from the cold and the wind made an attempt to push her backwards, as if fighting to keep her from her goal. Mar’kaa’s eyes furrowed.
	“I’m not dying out here, not now…”
	Mar’kaa reached the next intersection where the light originated—a glass structure on the roof of a building. Tarps covered the windows, shielding what was inside from view with some light seeping through the gaps.
	She stared up at the anomaly. How did this place have light when the rest of the city was shrouded in darkness? Was someone in there? Another gust blew at her and she decided to save the questions for later. She needed to find a way up.
	A quick survey of the structure revealed a metal staircase running up the side. However, it was suspended off the ground, several feet out of her reach. The yotje were natural jumpers and climbers, but Mar’kaa’s entire body was numb from the cold. And with the heavy armor she was wearing…
	She couldn’t stay out here. She had to try.
	Mar’kaa climbed up to the top of one of the vehicles parked along the side of road, giving herself a few feet of supporting height to work with. She looked up and spotted a rectangular hole on the bottom platform, with a short ladder jutting off the edge.
	“You can do this, Mar’kaa,” she assured herself as she crouched down in preparation. “Just one leap, and you’re there.”
	Her nimble legs quivered in place for several seconds, and then shot back up to their original position. Mar’kaa’s two-toed feet pushed her weight off the roof of the vehicle, kicking the piled slush backwards and increasing her upward momentum.
	She felt the familiar weightlessness as she went airborne. The burden of her armor and shoulder bag meant she wasn’t able to leap as high as she wanted to. She stretched her arms forward to compensate as she drew closer.
	There was a metallic crash as her body made contact with the ladder’s frame and she hooked her tiny digits around the rungs. Her feet dangled in the air as she wrapped the crook of right arm around one of the bars, giving herself more support. 
	Mar’kaa hung there for a few seconds, letting go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Made it.”
	Her antennae perked as something within the mechanism was knocked loose. The iron groaned in protest of the added weight and began to shudder. 
	Mar’kaa panicked. She quickly brought her left arm up to the next rung and lifted her leg, placing her foot on the bottommost rung, not knowing that it was coated in a patch of ice.
	Her foot slid off the bar and through the gap, her leg soon following. Her heart leapt to her throat as she felt her entire body being pulled down from the sudden misstep.
	“No-!”
	Her groin impacted the side of the ladder which loosened her grip on the rungs. Vertigo overtook her as her body fell backward and she hung upside down from her leg, suspended from the metal beam.
	She looked up, or down rather, as the iron support gave a long, harsh creak, and snapped from its notches.
	“No-no-NO!” Mar’kaa screamed as she fell to the sidewalk below. 
	It was a ten-foot drop, but mentally it felt like she had fallen from ten stories. Her upper back hit the snow-covered pavement and she let out a pained grunt as all the air was pushed from her lungs.
	Mar’kaa gazed up at ladder hopelessly as she struggled to regain her ability to breathe. The white flakes continued to fall from the sky. They started to congregate on her face and torso as her arms and legs sunk into the pile on the ground.
	“It would be easier to just lay here,” Mar’kaa thought to herself, her breath returning to her. “To let the cold dust swallow you whole.” The cold powder enveloped her as she began to grow weak. Her hope dwindled, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
	Her eyelids grew heavy. “So tired…”
	The sound of metal raking against metal brought her back to reality. The ladder squeaked and rattled as it began to descend from the platform, collapsing itself into sections on its way down. The final segment dropped to the ground, kicking up slush into Mar’kaa’s face.
	She stared at the contraption as she wiped her face dry, completely dumbstruck. Mar’kaa gathered her strength and brought herself to her feet. She placed her hand on the rung at her shoulder level.
	“Not what I had in mind, but it’ll do,” she muttered.
	She took a few awkward glances up and down the street, thankful that no one was around to witness that sorry display, and started to climb.
	Mar’kaa reached the top of the ladder without further incident and ascended the stairs to the roof, her armored boots striking the grated steps in steady click-clacks. She found herself on a terrace at the building’s apex. The glass house where the light was coming from was connected to a larger structure made of a reddish stone with an angular roof. A large glass door lead inside from the deck.
	Mar’kaa stomped through the powder drifts toward the door. As she approached, orange flashed across her vision.
[MOVEMENT DETECTED. UNREGISTERED LIFEFORM]
	A small dot blinked on the lower portion of her radar, confirming the presence of danger behind her. Mar’kaa spun her head around in the general direction of the threat. Her right hand crossed over the front of her torso and into her bag, finding the handgrip of her weapon.
	The blizzard played havoc with her vision as she scanned the horizon. The derelict city stood motionless, illuminated by the purplish-gray storm clouds. The ominous silhouette of the ship pierced through the fog. Lights from its bottom hull cast themselves onto the partially demolished buildings below.
	Nothing moved. Death surrounded her, and the disappearance of the blip on her radar said as much.
	Mar’kaa narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she slowly released her grip on her gun. She took steady breaths to calm herself as she turned her attention back to the door. 
	She reached up and grasped the handle with both hands. With what little strength she had left, the yotje pulled and the door slid to the right a few inches. She then let go and gripped the side of the door and pushed it open further, leaving just enough room for her petite frame to squeeze through.
	Mar’kaa was amazed by her sudden stroke of good fortune. She honestly expected the door to be locked, which would lead to her having to find a more contrived means of entry.
	Maybe the Hivemother was watching over her after all, even in this frozen wasteland.
	She sidestepped through the opening she had made for herself and shut the door behind her. Her carmine eyes glowed as she examined the dark interior. It looked like a residence, the biggest one she had ever seen. The main living area was moderately furnished, and a small kitchen stood at the far end of the room.
	The slush on Mar’kaa’s boots made a wet trail on the wood paneled floor as she took a few steps around the domicile. Lined along the walls were boxes full of supplies; packaged and canned food, bottles of water, medicine, a few crates full of what looked like weapons…
	Electrical wires and cords crisscrossed the floor and lead to different parts of the house. There was a short hallway on her left leading to more rooms beyond, with even more boxes placed on the floor, taking up half of the corridor’s space.
	The yotje took in all the clutter. The entire area was a trip hazard waiting to happen. It seemed as if this place was used for storage rather than a home.
	Whatever the case, Mar’kaa still felt uncomfortable breaking into someone else’s property, but the alternative was freezing to death outside. There was no movement on her radar, and the dust that covered the floor and surfaces seem to suggest that no one had been here for some time.
	Mar’kaa sighed. She had no choice. It looked like she was staying here for the time being, at least until the weather calmed down.
	Slivers of light poured through a door near where she had entered. Mar’kaa walked toward it, turned the knob and pushed it open. Bright fluorescence assaulted her vision and a wave of heat washed over her.
	Mar’kaa shielded her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. The warmth enveloped her entire body. It was a welcoming feeling, as if she was being embraced by the Hivemother herself, the omniscient guardian comforting her mortal hatchling after such a difficult journey.
	The little yotje blearily opened her eyes and she was suddenly awash in a sea of green. She was inside the glass house from earlier. Resting upon many tables were a variety of plants embedded in small soil beds, the smell of fertilizer hanging in the air. An array of space heaters were placed at strategic points around the room. Sprinklers running along the ceiling dispersed a fine mist upon the flora at random intervals. The walls of the garden were heavily insulated to protect its contents from the cold.
	Mar’kaa looked around in astonishment. It was just like the arboretums used to supply her home city with crops, but she was amazed that someone was able maintain a functioning conservatory despite the harsh conditions. She pondered how such a feat was technologically possible. They must have a power source somewhere. A generator, maybe. But where did the water come from? Perhaps they collected the white powder outside, then melted and purified it…
	She took a closer look at the plants. The soil patch closest to her bore a thin vertical vine supported by a wire frame. Hanging off its branches were several plump, red fruits, or vegetables, she couldn’t tell. Her interface kicked to life once more and began scanning the plant.
[ANALYZING LOCAL FLORA…S. LYCOPERSICUM, “TOMATO”]
	An image of the plant appeared along Mar’kaa’s right eye, along with a plethora of other data she couldn’t bother to read. It then occurred to her how incredibly famished she was. She couldn’t recall the last time she had eaten.
	Reaching through the metal cage, Mar’kaa encased her fingers around the fruit and pulled it from the branch, the entire vine quaking at the sudden disturbance. Not bothering to question if it was edible or not, she took a bite.
	The fruit bled profusely as Mar’kaa sank her teeth in. The tomato made a squelching sound as she tore off a decent-sized morsel. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the flavor—not too terrible. She gave a few slow chews before sending the mush to her stomach.
	Mar’kaa felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had no idea where she was or how she got here, but had managed to find food and shelter in spite of all that. She bowed her head in genuflection.
	“Thank you Hivemother, for this generous gift.”

[…]

	Mar’kaa started to make preparations to settle in for the night. She had no idea how late it was, yet for some reason, she was still restless, even after everything she went through. She made a space for herself on the large couch in the main living area. She could at least sit and collect her thoughts before her body retired on its own accord.
	She ‘borrowed’ one of the space heaters from the garden and hefted it onto a small table in front of the couch. It whirred to life as she flipped the switch, the infrared lights coating the room in a deep orange.
	The yotje hopped onto the couch, unshouldering her bag and setting it beside her. Mar’kaa let out a prominent sigh as her form sank into the cushions. She lazily reached to her lower legs and unfastened several latches on the sides of her shins. She wriggled her feet free from the armored boots and allowed them to clatter to the floor below.
	Mar’kaa felt along her body for other hooks and fasteners that held her burdensome armor in place. With some difficulty, she was able to pry the individual pieces off. As she yanked a curved plate from her left shoulder, she noticed a decently sized hole in it.
	She stared at it in confusion. The more she learned, the less she understood.
	Mar’kaa dropped the armor piece to the floor along with the others and looked down at what she was wearing underneath; a tight, black bodysuit, reaching from her neck to her toes. Mar’kaa felt a pang of self-consciousness as the fabric clung securely to her flared hips and soft belly. She may as well have been wearing nothing at all.
	The heat sank through the suit and washed over her relatively exposed body. Mar’kaa wiggled her toes as she was overcome from the toasty sensation. She closed her eyes and emitted a series of satisfied chirps, her uneven antennae quivering in ecstasy.
	Mar’kaa titled her head back and smiled as her muscles turned to jelly. The last few hours had been an absolute nightmare, and there were a few times where she considered giving up entirely. Her perspective changed now that she found herself here. She needed to do what she could to survive, if not to see her home and family again, then certainly for moments like this.
	She lifted the flap of her bag and retrieved the module she had taken from the dead yotje. Mar’kaa rotated it in her grip. It was made of a material she had never seen before—hard like metal, yet incredibly lightweight. She didn’t see any weak points that she could exploit in order to pry it open.
	She reached into her bag once more for the damaged module, the one that apparently belonged to her, for comparison. It had been punctured by something, leaving a small hole and a web of cracks along its shell.
	Mar’kaa stared at the device intently. She had no memories in between that night with her family and waking up in this cold, desolate city surrounded by corpses.
	Did the ship have something to do with it? What was the purpose of the modules? She would have liked nothing more than to dissect the contraption to see what its exact purpose was, yet she had neither the energy nor the resources to do so.
	Mar’kaa put both objects away. A puzzle for another day, she decided.
	The yotje glanced out the window of the sliding door. The storm continued to rage outside, the wind pelting the frozen flakes against the glass. She wouldn’t be going anywhere if the weather went on like this. She was lucky to have stayed alive for as long as she did. The problem was that she knew nothing about this place. The city’s layout was unusual, as if not designed by yotje at all, and the weather was so hostile. She wondered how anything could survive here.
	If she knew more about this city, what lived here, she would have a better chance of survival, or even find a way out of here.
	Maybe…
	“Um…” she paused, unsure of herself. “...access Primacy Archives…?”
	Data packets streamed across her line of sight. Within a few seconds, a digital menu blinked into existence, covering her entire field of view. Mar’kaa turned her head every which way in an attempt to reorient herself.
[WELCOME, CONDUIT 76847290]
[PLEASE STATE YOUR INQUIRY]
	Mar’kaa sighed. This was going to take some getting used to.
	“Uh…current location, more details?”
	Another window appeared and displayed a rotating image of a large celestial body. She saw patches of browns and tans—dry, arid environments that she was used to—but mixed in with greens and whites. Massive bodies of water covered a great deal of the surface. Mar’kaa had never been outside the city where she had been hatched and raised, but she knew for a fact that Kor’ten looked nothing like this.
	Her heart sank as it dawned on her.
	An alien planet. She was on an alien planet.
	Part of her wanted to panic, but at the same time she became enraptured by the beauty of this “Earth” place. Entire swathes of land, covered in greenery. She wondered what they looked like.
	Her curiosity piquing, Mar’kaa spent the next hour asking the interface all manner of questions, and for the most part it provided sufficient answers. It seems that the Primacy, whoever they were, had meticulously collected every single piece of information on this planet they could.
	Mar’kaa was transfixed as she binged herself on all the knowledge available to her. Eventually, she reached a database containing information on the planet’s primary lifeforms: the humans.
	Two figures were displayed, a male and a female by the look of things, without a stitch of clothing covering them. Mar’kaa sat in awe as she beheld their nude forms. The humans were covered entirely with soft-looking skin that proudly displayed their defined musculature. Thin fur covered their heads and expressive faces stared back at her.
	Mar’kaa’s focus went back and forth between the two sexes, a substantial amount of differences between them. The male was taller and stronger-looking, his torso in the shape of an inverted triangle, with broad shoulders slimming down to a thin waist. Mar’kaa had never seen a yotje male without his clothes, so she had no correlation to draw on. She tried to imagine how the anatomy of the two would contrast…for purely scientific reasons, of course.
	The female looked especially strange; shorter with two sac-like objects hanging from the chest. There was still a touch of the familiar, however. Just like females of Mar’kaa’s own species, the female human’s belly was taut and smooth, accentuated by a pair of widened hips. Useful traits for carrying and birthing eggs.
	The humans were very different from yotje, but not entirely unappealing. Mar’kaa then realized that she had not seen a single human during her time here. This was their planet, wasn’t it? Where did they all go?
	She decided to continue her research, hungry for more knowledge on this alien species. Mar’kaa dug deeper, analyzing the database on human culture and social interactions.
	That led her to human courtship rituals, which in turn led to their mating practices.
	Mar’kaa gulped as she watched the footage. She felt like an adolescent who was looking at something she shouldn’t. She took nervous glances over her shoulder even though she knew that she was the only one here and that no one could see this but her.
	She had not found her lifemate yet. It wasn’t something she thought about constantly, yet the longing would often manifest on the loneliest of nights, like this one. Most of the time she was forced to push these thoughts away, in case her pheromones were to disturb her parents and siblings who slept near her and she run the risk of embarrassing herself. Here and now, she had no such worries. She let her mind wander, imagining what it would be like, to be intimate with a male in such a way.
	The air began to fill with her scent as she became lost became lost in her fantasies. When two yotje mated, a bond formed between them that transcended the physical. They became inseparable, two halves part of a whole. It was described as a magical experience, a union sanctioned by the Hivemother herself.
	Mar’kaa continued to watch the two humans in their throes of passion. She wondered if humans worked the same way…
	She observed the male as he gave pleasure to his lifemate. Mar’kaa anxiously rubbed her thighs together. A heat pulsed within her core and travelled through the rest of her body like an electric current. Her pheromones hung over her, keeping her in a lust-filled haze.
	She began to picture herself in the same position as the human female. It was enough, even if it wasn’t real.
	Her hand dipped lower.
	“What am I doing?” she asked wearily. She suddenly felt lightheaded and the warmth from the nearby heater became unbearable. What if the Hivemother was still watching her? Watching her engage in this…deviant behavior. She slid from her position on the couch, the interface detecting her sudden movement and closing the database, allowing her to see what was in front of her once again.
	“I need to…stretch my legs! Yes, that’s it.”
	Her eyesight quickly readjusting to the darkness, Mar’kaa looked around the room as she cooled herself off. Near the couch was a shelf lined with small, rectangular boxes. Mar’kaa selected one at random and examined it. Its fragile, black shell protected two spools of film on the inside.
	She spotted a few machines situated in the corner; a large projection screen along with a few other appliances. Notifications sprang up on her cyber-display as she approached the setup, box in hand.
	Mar’kaa stood only a few feet away when the devices suddenly blinked to life. Small lights and digital indicators glowed in the dark room. The enormous screen soon activated as well and a harsh static emitted from the display, along with an erratic pattern of white and black dots, leaving the yotje temporarily discombobulated.
	How did this happen? She had only approached the machines and they switched on, all by themselves. Another useful application of her new ‘enhancements’, no doubt.
	Mar’kaa huffed. This had better be the last of the surprises.
	Below the screen was a box-shaped device--rather primitive-looking compared to the rest of the technology around here—with a rectangular slot matching the box she held. Putting two and two together, Mar’kaa inserted the box at the opening--turning it around in her grip once she realized she was holding it backwards—and gave it a firm push inside. She quickly withdrew her hands in surprise as the machine swallowed the box on its own volition, its inner mechanisms whirring in response.
	A few moments had passed before the system appeared to register the information within the box and show its contents on the screen. It showed humans, clad in armor and wielding enormous weapons. They were on some alien planet, trudging through a swamp for one reason or another. Soon enough, they found themselves caught in a battle with another group of aliens—pink, serpentine creatures with countless legs and teeth.
	Mar’kaa soon realized that what she was seeing wasn’t real, but rather a theatrical production of some sort, if the bad acting and lackluster special effects were anything to go by. The skirmish waged on, becoming more visceral by the minute. The shots from the human’s guns tore holes into the monsters, while the humans in turn were drenched in the acid that spat from the creature’s mouths, melting skin and exposing bone.
	Mar’kaa was taken aback at the wanton violence. “Who would watch something like this?”
	Her curiosity betrayed her and her eyes stayed glued to the screen. She took a few steps backwards and hopped back onto the couch, sitting herself at the edge.
	She scoffed at herself. “Me, apparently.”
	The recording went on and Mar’kaa soon found herself immersed in the story that was being told. She became attached to these humans, admiring their goals and personalities, and hoped that they would succeed against the aliens they were fighting. Was this how they saw other species? As monsters? They seemed friendly to each other, at least. Mar’kaa hoped that they weren’t hostile in real life, were she to ever meet any.
	Before she knew it, it was over. The humans emerged victorious despite heavy losses. Mar’kaa watched as the scene faded to black and a list of names crawled across the screen. She smiled for the first time that night, thankful for the distraction from the madness she was currently experiencing.
	She wanted to watch another one, but as her eyes drooped and the natural fatigue of her body set in, she decided against it. She needed rest if she wanted any chance of tackling tomorrow.
	Mar’kaa shifted herself onto her back along the cushions of the couch. She placed her hands on her chest and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t make out too bad today, she thought, considering the circumstances.
	She thought of her family. Her parents, her brothers and sisters. They could be freezing or starving out in that freezing calamity. Mar’kaa wanted nothing more than to go out and search for them, but she barely survived those conditions herself. She’d die if she went out there again without any sort of plan or preparation. Plus, she had no guarantee that they were here in the first place.
	She was torn between action and inaction. She struggled to comprehend what series of events led her to this moment, or why she couldn’t remember any of it.
	Mar’kaa shook her head, attempting to banish the worries from her tired mind. Sleep first, worry about everything else later.
	As she teetered on the edge of consciousness, she offered a silent prayer to the Hivemother, hoping that She would grant her the strength she needed to survive this.
	The yotje’s eyes slipped shut, the warmth from the heater enveloping her like a shroud, her dreams her only company.
[CONDUIT 76847290 ENTERING NATURAL SLEEP CYCLE, ESTIMATED TIME OF RE-AWAKENING: 6.5 HOURS]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #179: Primacy Archive search history extracted from the cybernetic implants of Extraterrestrial Subject Alpha (Mar’kaa Te’Sey’nii’Hos’naa), Approximate timestamp: January 10, 2030.

>CONDUIT76847290_VOICECOMMAND _ACCESSPRIMACYARCHIVES
>PRIMACYARCHIVE_PROGRAMSTARTUPINITIATED
>AUTOMATICLOGIN_CONDUIT76847290
>MAINMENUACCESSED_WAITFORINPUT
>CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_CURRENTLOCATION_MOREDETAILS
	>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_EARTHGEOGRAPHY
		>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_PHILADELPHIA
>CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_NEW _PRIMACY
>ERROR_INVALIDINQUIRY
>CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_NEW_EARTHWEATHER
	>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH _SNOW
>CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_NEW_EARTHOCEANS
	>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_FISH
 >CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_NEW_KOR’TEN
	>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_YOTJE
		>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_NID’ZII
		>ERROR_NORESULTSFOUND
>CONDUIT76847290_VOICEINQUIRY_NEW_EARTHLIFE
	>VOICEINGUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_HUMANS
		>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_HUMANBIOLOGY
			>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_HUMANCULTURE
				>VOICEINQUIRY_NARROWSEARCH_HUMANMATING
>CONDUIT76847290_ACTIVE
>AUTOMATEDLOGOFFINITIATED

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 3: The Remnants

	South Philadelphia was now a skeleton of its former self. The rustic yet lively neighborhoods were now completely barren, its inhabitants having fled once the invasion had started. All that remained were debris-covered streets and empty husks of buildings as far as the eye could see. 
	Most of the damage was caused by the looters and the widespread panic rather than the xenos themselves. In addition to stealing food and medicine, some people were materialistic enough to carry away speakers and plasma screens, during an alien invasion, no less.
	The rest tried to flee. Packing their vehicles to the brim with their possessions, everyone and their mother tried to make it out of the city, causing traffic jams and a wide array of accidents. They eventually abandoned their cars entirely and continued on foot, leaving a mess of vehicles parked in awkward angles on nearly every street. Trying to navigate the city’s roads was now a chore in and of itself.
	Night had long since descended on the metropolis as the two scavengers made their way south towards the bunker in complete silence. The adrenaline high from their run-in with the xenos had long since worn off, leaving the both of them physically and mentally exhausted. Gavin snuck a few sideways glances at Alex. She still looked pissed, keeping her eyes forward and not acknowledging him in any way. 
	She had every right to be, he supposed. Everything that happened a few hours ago was one hundred percent his fault. They probably wouldn’t have run into the aliens if they had stuck to their intended route. And she had risked her life several times protecting him, despite his mistakes. If she had been killed, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. He wanted to say something, apologize, perhaps, but he was afraid of making things worse.
	Alex had already taken shelter in the bunker along with what was left of her guard unit by the time Gavin and his crew had arrived. Being the only soldier there with any sort of technical expertise, she was assigned to his team and they immediately set to work turning the underground facility into a livable environment after nearly forty years of neglect.
	At first, she was reluctant to work with a group of outsiders, but she knew her stuff, and performed above and beyond at any task that was assigned to her. Alex formed a decent working relationship with Gavin and his co-workers, yet she was always distant.
	Words travelled fast in the confined space of their hideout—she wasn’t always like this, apparently.  He decided against risking another open can of worms by bothering her with whatever personal issues she may or may not be having.
	After an eternity of walking, they had reached their destination: a simple toll gate with ‘THE NAVY YARD’ sprawled across the archway. Most of the lanes leading through were locked shut, blocked by tall iron gates reinforced with sheet metal. The middle lane was left open, but partially stonewalled by two concrete barriers topped with barbed wire.
	As the two approached, a voice called out from the fortification. “Independence.”
	“Declaration,” Alex called back, her first word in over an hour.
	A helmeted silhouette peeked from one of the toll booths. “That you, Torres?” it questioned, gun barrel shakily poking out of the window.
	“No, we’re the xenos,” Gavin responded sardonically. “We’ve come to take your bunker.”
	“Brooks?” The sentry rose to his feet. “Goddammit, I’m not in the mood for jokes! ‘Bout ready to shoot anything that moves.”
	“Good to see you’re paying attention,” Gavin replied as he stepped closer to the gate.
	The soldier bundled in winter clothes exited the booth and approached the barricade where Gavin and Alex were waiting. He reached the left side and began fiddling with the barbed wire.
	“You guys were supposed to be back hours ago,” he said as he pulled the jagged defensive measure to the side, allowing the two room to pass over.
	“Yeah, tell that to the xenos,” Gavin said as Alex vaulted over the barrier. “We ran into them on our way back.”
	“You’re shitting me,” the soldier said in disbelief. He cast a worried glance towards the city and the alien craft that hovered above it. “They’re getting closer? We’re not gonna last long if they find us.”
	“Well, luckily for us,” Gavin grunted as he worked his aching joints over the blockade. “We have you as our first line of defense,” he teased as his feet hit the pavement on the other side and continued to walk toward the bunker. “Have fun.”
	Alex shook her head as she watched her partner trail off down the dark road. She turned to her fellow guardsman. “Stay sharp, Daniels. We don’t know what they’re up to.”
	“Yeah…” Daniels sighed. They then separated, Alex following Gavin and Daniels returning to his post, pulling his coat in tighter to shield himself from the freezing cold. The two continued down the road, passing the rusted hulls of long-abandoned ships docked in the harbor. A light snow began to fall from the clouds above.
	The military didn’t have as many uses for this place as it did in the past. Navy ships usually arrived here to be decommissioned, with crews removing their weapons, computers, and nuclear reactors, starting the long process of turning the vessels into piles of scrap. The National Guard headquarters was close by, which was how Alex’s unit ended up here. Gavin had only been through here a few times, so he never knew the full extent of the grounds. He doubted that where they were headed was part of any standard tour.
	Gavin and Alex reached a large, brick warehouse and entered through its loading door just as the snowfall began to pick up. Inside it was empty, save for a few pieces of rusted machinery. An incline recessed into the floor leading to an imposing blast door. Multiple security cameras whirred as their lenses focused and tracked the two as they approached. Alex made her way to a nearby intercom and held down its button, leaning forward to speak.
	“Specialist Torres and contractor Brooks returning from scav mission. Clearance code eight-seven-two-five.”
	After a five-second wait, a low rumble emanated as the heavy door split horizontally from the middle. Steel, teeth-like grooves hung from the top and bottom portions of the door and the mechanism growled as the slabs continued to separate, like a great beast opening its maw, beckoning the humans into the darkness of its belly, until it would eventually spit them back out into the dead city once again.
	A couple of soldiers stood guard in the wide entrance hall. Klaxons spun on the walls, alternating between illuminating the room and its inhabitants in a deep yellow and casting them in shadow.
	“Entry!” one of the soldiers bellowed to the two personnel dressed in navy blue fatigues seated in a small booth on one side of the room. “Two raccoons, returning from scav mission.”
	“Roger, logged!” a Navy ensign shouted back before typing away on the computer in front of her. Alex removed her cap and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, relieved to be around other armed humans. She nodded to several of her comrades as she and Gavin made their way deeper into the complex.
	They stopped at the armory near the entrance hall to return their weapons and gear to the quartermaster before continuing down the dimly-lit main corridor. Floodlights hung haphazardly from the concrete walls, and a ventilation shaft choked and sputtered as it struggled to dispense heat into the hallway.
	When they had found this place, it looked like it had not seen activity in several decades. There was no power, no heat, and no running water. Nearly a month later, Gavin, Alex, and the rest of their crew had turned the bunker into a semi-habitable space, both to survive to winter that raged outside, and to stay hidden from the aliens that now scoured the city.
	It was shoddy workmanship, with four generators in the basement which were barely hanging by their threads. They managed to restore the running water as well, diverting pipes and tubing from the nearby river. It was by no means perfect and required constant maintenance and upkeep, but they were making do with whatever materials they could find, both in the navy yard and out in the city itself. The cold weather, along with the xenos as well as several human bandit groups that operated in the city definitely weren’t making things easy for them. But at least they weren’t living in complete squalor.
	Gavin and Alex arrived at a T-intersection, their path splitting off left and right. Ahead was a set of double doors, always closed and flanked by two guards. ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’, a sign read above the doorframe.
	Not a lot of people were allowed inside. Only the captain and a few other officers. Gavin had been here for months and he still didn’t know what exact purpose this bunker served, or used to serve. He had seen faded logos on the walls of the facility, with the initials ‘SDI’. What that meant, he could only guess.
	Judging by the antiquated technology he had found lying around, the bunker had to be at least fifty years old. His first guess was that it was some sort of Cold War-era doomsday bunker, but he had thought those types of installations were built further out west, in the mountains. What was one doing near a city?
	The two had made it halfway down the left hallway when a figure suddenly emerged from a nearby door, the one person that Gavin was hoping to avoid.
	“Torres, Brooks,” the naval officer boomed authoritatively. “A word, please.”
	“Yes, Captain,” Alex said as she changed direction, following the CO into his makeshift office. Gavin reluctantly trailed behind, mentally preparing himself for whatever lecture or reprimand was to come. Captain Nash circled around the table that served as his desk. Alex stopped in front of it and stood ramrod-straight, snapping into a crisp salute, which the captain returned.
	The officer had a dominating presence befitting of his rank. His posture was stiff and he never seemed to move unless he had to, regarding the two like a gargoyle. His dark skin contrasted with the shades of blue of his navy fatigues, which were void of wrinkles and imperfections in spite of the destitute conditions he was in. The man seemed so out of place, like he should be in command of a grand battleship rather than a ragtag group of soldiers hiding in a grimy underground facility.
	The officer finally spoke. “You were late checking in. Anything I should know?”
	“There was a slight complication, sir,” Alex answered. She stood completely still, at parade-rest. Gavin moved freely, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
	“Something tells me that’s a huge understatement,” Nash speculated. This always seemed to be the case, especially when Brooks was involved. He urged Alex to continue. “Out with it, then.”
	“It’s the xenos, sir,” Alex resumed. “It looks like they’re sending out patrols, outside their usual A.O. We ran into a large group and barely escaped.”
	Nash kept his emotionless façade the same aside from a few blinks. It was clear that this news troubled him, as much as he tried not to show it. “Did any of them follow you back here?”
	“No, sir. I made sure of that.”
	“Good. If those aliens are making a move, then we need to keep our physical footprint as subtle as possible. We can’t allow them to find this place. Our mission depends on it.”
	“You know, you still haven’t told us what this mission is, exactly.” Gavin remarked, finally breaking his silence. Nash turned to him and his eyes narrowed. This conversation again.
	“I told you already, Brooks. We’re to observe the movements of the xenos and make note of any—”
	“Yeah, I know that part,” Gavin interrupted. “But why the secret bunker? Why the locked door?”
	“What’s behind that door is none of your concern. Civilians are not permitted to be here in the first place.”
	Gavin opened his mouth in protest, but Nash closed the distance between them before he had a chance to say anything. “Let me make myself clear, Brooks,” the captain started as he stared the civilian down. “You are here because I allow you to be here. Your role is to keep this placing up and running, nothing more.”
	Alex stood rigid. Unlike her partner, she followed the chain of command; it was not her place to intervene, not like she had any hope of defusing the situation anyway.
	“Am I understood?” the captain asked, phrasing it as more of a statement than a question.
	Gavin leered back at him. “Perfectly.” He turned and made his way to the door. Nash regarded the civilian dismissively for a few more seconds before turning back to Alex.
	“Go see Travers, get yourself patched up. Have your report on my desk by tomorrow.”
	“Yes, sir.” Alex saluted again and spun on her heel, making her way out the door where Gavin was waiting.
	“Who shoved the stick up his ass?” he sneered.
	Alex glowered at him. “You know, you really should keep your mouth shut,” They turned and continued down the corridor. “You’re technically part of the military too.”
	“Really?” Gavin asked in feigned shock. “I don’t remember signing any papers.” Alex shook her head. “Besides,” he continued, “it feels like we’re wasting our time down here. If Nash has a plan for this place, why doesn’t he just lay it out for us?”
	“You think he tells me anything?” Alex answered. “Information’s on the need-to-know, you know that.”
	“And that doesn’t bother you?” Gavin asked her. “That your superiors string you along? And you just follow without question?”
	Alex ground to a halt and stared irritatingly at the ceiling. Gavin stopped as well and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response.
	“And what’s YOUR plan, Gav?” she asked, bringing her gaze to him. “Head into the city and take on the xenos yourself?”
	“Well, the military already tried that, from what I heard. Look how that turned out.”
	Alex’s expression darkened, but she said nothing. She instead turned and marched down the hallway, with Gavin following shortly after.
	They soon reached another side room further down that had been repurposed as a medical clinic. The middle-aged woman inside was dressed in navy fatigues topped with a white doctor’s coat. She looked up as she noticed movement at the doorway. The two stood there without a word, covered head to toe in dirt and sweat with a multitude of lacerations on their exposed skin. Their hair was mottled and their faces remained grim.
	Without a word, the doctor dropped whatever it was she was doing and sat them both down. She strode over to a cabinet to retrieve a few supplies before getting straight to work.
	By some divine miracle they had only received minor injuries from tonight’s fiasco; a couple of cuts, scrapes, bruises, and burns. Gavin, however, had a minor concussion, probably from hitting the ground after that mortar blast.
	No wonder his head hurt. This was probably his first doctor’s visit in nearly a decade. Who knew it would take the near-extinction of humanity to get some proper medical care.
	“Ah-!” he winced and recoiled as an alcohol-soaked cotton ball made contact with a cut on the left side of his forehead.
	“Hold still,” Travers instructed, gently pulling his head back. “You’re just making it worse.”
	“Yes, mom.” Gavin replied sarcastically. He held still, allowing the doctor to dab at the wound, clamping his eyes shut as the chemical stung.
	After she had ensured the cut was properly disinfected, she slapped on a bandage then moved on to Alex, applying burn ointment to the back of her neck.
	“So, what was it this time?” the doctor asked them. “The bandits?”
	“Xenos,” Alex answered nonchalantly, this sort of thing being par for the course by now. “About a dozen bugs and a tank.”
	Travers looked at both of them worriedly. “I wish you two didn’t go out there so much,” she finished her once-overs and stood up. “It sounds like it’s getting worse.”
	“Don’t see anyone else volunteering,” Gavin pointed out, cradling the ice pack he had been given to his head.
	“The captain doesn’t want to risk any more patrols,” Travers stated as she moved across the room to put her supplies away. “Not after the losses we’ve had. We’re short-handed as it is.”
	The doctor strode back to them, a small container of pills in hand. “Okay, you two are all set. Take things easy for the rest of the night,” She turned to Gavin and offered the bottle to him. “Gavin, I want you to take one of these before you go to sleep and another once you wake up tomorrow.”
	Gavin took the bottle and made a toasting motion with it in thanks.
	“Appreciate it, doc,” Alex said as the medical officer ushered them both out the door.
	Once Travers was out of sight and earshot, Gavin opened the bottle and deposited five small white pills into his palm, immediately popping them into his mouth and swallowing. He was never good at following orders, even from a doctor.

[…]

	A short descent down two flights of stairs took Gavin and Alex to the sub=level of the facility. This was their home turf, where generators hummed away and ventilation fans whirred in constant motion. The lifeblood of the bunker.
	An intense flickering of light accompanied by a sheering sound brought them to their destination. The word ‘WORKSHOP’ was sloppily written on the wall with yellow spray paint with an arrow pointing to the adjacent door. The room was filled everything they used to keep the facility alive; tools hung from the walls and spare parts were stored on flimsy shelves. Half-finished projects were scattered about the room. Oil and grease stains covered the floor.
	In the center of the room, a masked figure knelt next to a large, obsidian-colored object. Sparks flew chaotically over the man’s shoulder as the acetylene torch he was handling attempted to seer through the smooth metal. After no apparent success, he pulled the flame away and inspected the spot he tried to burn through.
	With quick, frustrated movements, he snuffed the torch and removed his mask and gloves. The old man wiped the sweat from his wrinkled brow and slapped a baseball cap onto his head, greyed hairs messily spilling out from underneath.
	Frank noticed that they had returned. “You two look like you went through hell. What happened?”
	“Oh, nothing,” Alex said casually. “Gavin nearly got us killed for some spools of copper wire. The usual.”
	“You guys found copper wire?” An eccentric voice called out from a back room. Another man with short black hair and a wide, toothy smile emerged to join them, box of miscellaneous objects in hand. “Sweet! Now we can fix all those faulty wires-”
	“Yeah, except everything I collected is scattered all over Morris Street right now,” Gavin interjected and Mike’s smile quickly faded. “You can thank the xenos for that.”
	“You ran into THEM?” Frank asked with surprise. “You didn’t go near the Red Zone, did you?”
	“No, we ran into them at the Breeze,” Alex stated. “We were scavving Harvey’s and all of a sudden there were patrols everywhere.”
	Frank moved to a map of the city posted on a nearby wall. Its surface was covered in sticky notes, thumbtacks, and yarn indicating areas of interest, possible leads for scavenging, places to avoid, and other useful information. The city center was highlighted in red; the ship had landed somewhere above city hall and the aliens had fanned out about a dozen blocks in every direction. That was their neighborhood now, and no human who went there ever came back.
	The aging mechanic examined the map closely. Point Breeze was several blocks outside the zone. “That area’s supposed to be clear.”
	“Did anyone tell the xenos that?” Gavin remarked.
	Frank turned to Alex, who was studying the map with him. “That store’s pretty far from where I sent you. What were you doing out there?”
	“Well, SOMEONE had insisted that we take a little side-trip for some extra loot,” Alex answered, shooting a look at Gavin.
	He shrugged. “Call it a hunch. And I was right, wasn’t I?” Alex gave him a dismissive wave of her hand.
	“Hmm…looks like the ET’s are looking for new real estate…” Frank thought aloud. He grabbed a marker and drew a big red X through the whole neighborhood. Nearly ten blocks, now xeno territory. “No use going back there.”
	Gavin moved toward the object in the center of the room. “Any progress on…” he motioned toward it and gave it confused look. “…whatever the fuck this is?”
	All eyes were now on the piece of alien technology that formed the centerpiece of their workshop. It shared the same visual aesthetic as the leviathan ship and the armor the aliens wore; deep black with small blue diodes across its surface. It was knee-height and had the shape of a three-dimensional octagon with pyramidal spikes extending from its body.
	Gavin remembered when they first got their hands on it. Back when Nash still sent out squads to assess the situation in the city, one scouting group ventured a little too close to the Red Zone and took casualties, but managed to eliminate the xenos that attacked them. Demoralized, but not wanting to retreat to the bunker empty-handed, they collected alien weaponry, bits of their armor, and the mystery device, and lugged it all back with little difficulty.
	Nash threw a fit, of course. They had no idea what the thing even was--it could’ve been a bomb for all they knew. A quick inspection determined that the object was neither dangerously explosive nor radioactive. The captain eventually yielded and allowed the tech crew to examine it.
	But in order to do that fully, they needed to open it up and see how it worked. The presence of scratches, drill marks, and scorches on its unbroken casing was testament to how successful they were.
	“No further from where we started,” Frank answered, looking down at the impenetrable enigma. “We’re not getting anywhere with the tools we have, that’s for damn sure.”
	Alex handed her backpack off to Mike and knelt down next to the device. “It doesn’t have any buttons or switches,” she observed as she titled her head to view it from different angles. “Maybe the xenos have their own specialized tools.”
	“Or an instruction manual,” Mike offered jokingly as he withdrew supplies from her bag.
	“Whatever the case, we won’t know what it does if we don’t know what it is,” Frank hypothesized. “We have nothing to compare it to.”
	“Then let’s find more,” Gavin suggested. “We’ll never stand a chance against these things if we don’t know how their tech works. If the xenos are moving out of the Zone then it’s likely that they’ll bring some tech with them. We take it and bring it back here, see where it gets us.”
	Alex stood up. “How are we going to do that?” she asked. “It’s not like we can just walk up and ask them.” The room was silent for a few moments, then Mike spoke up.
	“Maybe we won’t have to,” Everyone turned to him, and he began to elaborate. “I have a lead on where we can get some of their tech,” he said, hopeful smile on his face. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but if everything goes well, we can avoid the xenos altogether.”
	Frank listened intently, stroking his thick mustache. “Whatever it is your planning, Mike, it can wait ‘til tomorrow.” He assessed his haggard-looking crew. “Let’s get some sleep, tackle this with fresh heads.”
	They answered him in a series of nods and half-shrugs before filing out of the room, towards their respective quarters. Gavin and Alex slept on separate floors and parted ways in the hallway. They inadvertently exchanged glances as they left.
	Gavin initially steeled himself for another ice-cold scowl from her, but all he found were tired eyes looking back at him. It was unexpected—she should hate him, but there was no anger in her expression. She nodded solemnly to him, then made her way back up the stairs.
	He turned around to head to his bunk, pondering what had just occurred. Maybe she saw the same restlessness in his eyes and decided not to press things further. When it came down to it, they were still partners and had to maintain a good working relationship for the sake of the group. Not the right time to hold grudges.
	Gavin reached the end of the hallway, past the workshop, where there were a row of storage closets that he, Frank, and Mike had converted to sleeping quarters. He opened the door to his room, the third one, and stepped carefully into the small space.
	The closet was compact, roughly the size of an average prison cell, with a military-issue cot taking up most of the floor space. A box holding a few personal possessions sat in the corner. The walls were solid concrete and provided little in the way of insulation. It wasn’t luxurious, but it suited him just fine. He had survived in worse conditions.
	Gavin lazily stripped himself of his boots, gloves, and hoodie, leaving him in only his jeans and long-sleeved thermal shirt. He flopped onto the cot back-first, finally releasing the burden of his joints and muscles.
	The small light fixture on the ceiling began to buzz and flicker, earning it a look of contempt from the technician. The bulb darkened to a still brown and emitted a prolonged hum, before returning to its original intensity. Gavin brought a hand to his face as air escaped his lips, still mourning the loss of his copper wire. There was more stored away at the shop they visited, but there was no way to safely get back there with all the xenos snooping around. Looks like that repair work would have to wait.
	He hated being down here. If things weren’t so bad outside, he would have left a long time ago. Not like he could leave the city either. He had lived here all his life and knew next to nothing about the places that lay beyond, let alone how they were affected by the current state of affairs. Whether he liked it or not, the bunker was his only chance of survival. It guaranteed him a few meals a day, along with other luxuries he was used to, like plumbing and half-decent heating, provided he put in the work to keep these amenities running.
	Scouring the city for materials and supplies was initially his idea. He would gladly risk getting shot at by xenos and bandits if it meant getting away from people like Nash for a few hours. He didn’t hate the military; he just never liked all the structure and orders. He thought back to the last foster home he lived in. His ‘parents’ had tried convincing him to join this particular institution, to keep him from living a dead-end life, as they put it. Gavin couldn’t imagine himself slogging it at boot camp. He wasn’t too keen on being shipped halfway around the world to die in some desert hellhole either.
	He ran from that family the first chance he got. Little did he know that he would end up working for the military anyway. Life sure was funny like that.
	Gavin shifted on his cot in an attempt to get comfortable. He didn’t know how long he and his crew could continue fixing the bunker. Eventually they’d run out of food or places to scavenge, or the xenos would keep taking the city block by block until they were right at their doorstep. What was so important about this bunker that needed so much secrecy?
	Nash had better have a plan soon. Time was running out.

[…]

	Alex had made her way upstairs, passing the clinic, the captain’s office, and the top-secret door before finally reaching the barracks. The room was one of the largest in the facility, serving as a small briefing room of sorts before the chairs were removed and replaced with cots, fifteen in total.
	The dark sleeping quarters were almost filled to capacity already, with guardsmen and Navy personnel laying down in various states of rest. Alex spotted a few familiar faces as she quietly walked in between the rows of beds, the others were concealed by blankets as they slept away.
	Alex finally reached her bunk, one she shared with Daniels, taking turns when the other was on duty. She plopped down and retrieved her journal from the footlocker underneath. The captain would want her report by tomorrow. She decided to put it aside until later. He didn’t give her an exact deadline, after all.
	After jotting down a few new bits of information about the xenos she had gleaned from tonight’s excursion, she flipped the pages until she was at the inside of the front cover. More than a dozen tally marks adorned the top of the page. She crossed a line through a grouping of four and added two more lines next to it.
	Three confirmed kills today, along with a few other marks she wasn’t sure of. She was disappointed that she couldn’t take credit for the bugs killed by the oven exploding. She chalked those up to an act of God.
	A small part of her wondered why the xenos had begun to move through the Breeze in such numbers. For months they were content to squat in the center of the city doing who knows what. Maybe they decided that killing thousands of people wasn’t enough and decided to hunt for stragglers. Ever since the Guard went missing in the Zone, Nash and the others had been planning for some sort of counterattack. Maybe this was the start of that, with the xenos sniffing around for any pockets of resistance.
	Whatever the case, it meant more aliens in the crosshairs. Good enough for her.
	Alex put her journal away and shifted into a resting position on the cot, too tired to bother taking her boots off. For a few minutes she just stared at the ceiling, absentmindedness the only thing that would bring about sleep these days.
	Her gaze occasionally shifted toward her breast pocket, below her nametag. She tried to fight the temptation but it eventually won out. She opened the flap and retrieved the photo hidden within. It took only a second’s glance at the subject before she couldn’t bear to look any further.
	Releasing a sharp exhale through her teeth, Alex shoved the picture back into her pocket, buttoning the flap so as to not reach for it again. She bottled her emotions back up again lest they erupt from her like a geyser.
	She closed her eyes and tried to get some shut-eye, eager to go back into the city as soon as possible.
	Hopefully the xenos will be lucky enough to kill her next time.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #17: Transcripts of audio logs recorded by Captain Preston Nash (United States Navy), former captain of the USS Eldritch and de facto commanding officer of the Philadelphia Remnant Forces, dated November 16-30, 2029.

LOG 1
NASH: -s this recording? Yes? Alright. My name is Captain Preston Nash, United States Navy, service number 967602393. [sigh] …Where to even begin… [clears throat] At approximately 0837 hours this morning, the United States was visited by…what appears to be extraterrestrial life. From what we have seen thus far, their purpose here…is not peaceful. I will start at the beginning. My crew and I had arrived in Philadelphia a few days ago. We were under orders to put the Eldritch in dry-dock and oversee her disassembly. This morning, communications within the navy yard suddenly went dark. A few minutes later, we saw...a dark shape...descend from the sky. It held position above the city… [pause] ...then...a bright flash. My bones felt stiff, like…like I had been paralyzed, but the numbness subsided after a few minutes. I gathered my crew and we attempted to contact command to report the situation and receive orders, but communications were silent. A few hours later, we were approached by soldiers from the National Guard. Their main force had entered the city to evacuate civilians and attempt to make contact with this unknown force. The rest were left at their headquarters on stand-by. This situation in the city was absolute pandemonium. What had spent the rest of the day attempting to keep the peace as civilians practically crawled over each other to evacuate. I have assumed command of all military personnel within this part of the city. As far as we know, we’re the only ones left…I will continue to update as the situation develops. [pause] End log…is this off? How do I turn this- [end recording]
LOG 2
NASH: Log date: November 18, 2029, 0916 hours. It has been two days since the alien ship had touched down. All long-range cell signals and radios are dead. We have not been able to contact the higher-ups or the commander-in-chief. Half of the Eldritch’s crew was on shore leave when all this started. God only knows where they are now… [pause]. No word from the Guard’s Alpha Company either. It’s like they just…disappeared. The enlisted ranks are begging me to send out a patrol to find them. I’ve agreed to send out small scouting parties, no more than four men per squad. They are under strict orders to retreat at the first sign of trouble. They come back with tall tales of weird, alien creatures roaming the streets. Some big, some small, all of them hostile. [pause] With the remaining crew, along with supplemental Guard personnel, we’re operating at about twenty percent capacity for an area this large. We have neither the numbers nor the resources to launch any sort of counter-assault. I would feel less nervous if the aliens were on the offensive, but they just seem to be staying where they are. I don’t like it… [pause] It’s starting to snow…with the electrical grid down we won’t survive winter. I’ll order Master Sergeant Grimes to look for a more suitable shelter tomorrow. End log. [end recording]
LOG 3
NASH: Log date: November 23, 2029, 1802 hours. Big developments over the past few days. While searching the navy yard, the National Guard uncovered some sort of underground facility. A Cold War relic, if I had to guess. It’s discreet and well-hidden. The only problem is that it hasn’t seen any activity for at least six presidential administrations. There’s no power, no plumbing, and without a central heating system, it’s useless for beating back the cold. All of my technicians are MIA, and the Guard has only one specialist on retainer. We were about to reconsider our options until we went deeper into the facility. In the center of the bunker we found [REDACTED], along with [REDACTED]. As such I ordered everyone out of the room. Upon further inspection, it appears that this facility [REDACTED], and after the [REDACTED]. I’ll have Kowalczyk keep digging, but I think we found our ace in the hole. Mission parameters have changed. Looks like this will be our home for time being. End log. [end recording]
LOG 4
NASH: Log date: November 27, 2029, 1254 hours. The men and women under my command are getting restless. I expected there to be conflict between my people and the Guard—Army and Navy never saw eye to eye, after all, but so far they’ve been getting along. [pause] No…as I walk the halls of the bunker, hopelessness fills the air. Not only have some of them lost friends and family, but the conditions down here, no heat, no showers, the darkness, are taking their toll as well. [pause] They don’t know what they’re doing here, and I don’t know how much I’m allowed to tell them. Kowalczyk is running into dead end after dead end, and I don’t know if- [door knock] Enter! [door creaking, footsteps] What is it, Torres?
TORRES: [distant voice, female] Sir, McPherson’s squad came across a group civilians.
NASH: Tell them what we told the last group. This is a classified military installation, and—
TORRES: I think it might be too late for that, sir.
NASH: What do you mean?
TORRES: Someone spilled the beans about our current situation. The civvies are mechanics or something. They’ve offered to help. [long pause] They’re waiting outside to talk to you, sir.
NASH: Goddamnit…alright, tell them I’ll be right there. [shuffling] End log. [end recording]
LOG 5
NASH: Log date: November 30, 2029, 2109 hours. [sigh] Against my better judgement, I have authorized access for three civilians into the bunker. A small business owner named Frank Mercer and two of his employees. Mister Mercer is an older gentleman, blunt, but professional. He even handed me a business card when introducing himself. He and his crew had been doing installation work in the outskirts of the city when the invasion started. I listed off vague descriptions of the problems we were having and he immediately offered practical solutions. Within three days they had restored power to the facility and have already started to look into the plumbing situation. Some of the best work ethic I’ve seen from civilians. The only downside is that Brooks fellow. He has a mouth on him, but he’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve had my share of unruly subordinates. Morale has gone up considerably amongst the crew now that the lights are on, along with the possibility that they will be able to bathe in the very near future. [pause] I don’t trust civilians to do military-grade work under normal circumstances, but it seems that Mercer and his crew will be here to stay. I’ll have to keep them in the dark about [REDACTED], of course. We don’t need a secret like that entering the public eye. I’ve ordered Torres, the army specialist, to work closely with them. Her talents are better suited there and she can report to me on any progress they make. The rest of the Guard and Navy personnel will continue their regular duties as usual. The aliens have established a holding pattern near their ship and seem to be intent on staying there, so a full-scale attack by them seems unlikely. We will continue to monitor their movements. I have since given up on receiving any word from the chain of command. The situation across the country must be desperate… [pause] Looks like we’re on our own. End log. [end recording]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 4: Crossroads

	The huntress was still as a statue as she watched the street below her. Rifle in her grip and face buried beneath her makeshift cloak, she subjected herself to the part of her mission that she loathed the most: waiting.
	She felt the sun begin to crest on the horizon behind her, illuminating the top of the neglected building where she was perched, while the streets below were still covered in dawn’s faint shadow. The newborn sunlight did little to stave off the frigid morning temperature. Still, this planet’s climate was not all that different then the frozen tundras of Nurcoza. She had been trained to survive in conditions far harsher than this. 
	After scanning her target building and its surrounds one last time, she allowed herself a moment’s reprieve. She readjusted her body, moving for the first time in hours, stretching her well-defined arm muscles and shifting her immense weight from one knee to the other. She rested the elongated rifle across her powerful thigh and leaned her forearms against it, content to watch with her one remaining eye rather than through the scope.
	The nurcozan reiterated the details of her mission through her head once more, more out of sheer boredom than anything else. The building that stood on the other side of the intersection was about four stories in height, topped with an angular glass structure. She had seen several terrans come and go over the past few days, taking and leaving large crates and boxes. It seemed they used the building as a hideout to store supplies. She couldn’t risk scouting the site itself, lest she disturb the grounds and scare them off. It was better to let things run their natural course until her quarry revealed themselves.
	This plan was eventually confounded by the appearance of the small, red-eyed alien. It had arrived during the night, clumsily climbing to the roof and entering the dwelling at the building’s apex. It was alone and acting on its own accord, definitely not a slave to the machines that were nested within its body, unlike the rest of its kind.
	That was nearly eight hours ago. Aside from a few new light sources coming from within the house, the huntress saw no more signs of it. She trained her eye on the door where the creature had entered. Its mere presence could unravel everything she had accomplished thus far.
	She brought her large hand up to her bluish-gray face, feeling at the bandage that covered her now empty eye socket. This environment was not the best place to keep such a wound clean. She would have to apply fresh dressing soon. The pain was no longer an issue; decades of training had taught her to ignore such trivial inconveniences. All pain is temporary, as it was said.
	She still mourned the loss of her eye. It left her with an enormous blind spot and she felt as if she had to mind her surroundings twice as much. Sight was a warrior’s most valuable asset, and this handicap would make her work all the more difficult.
	She grimaced as she pushed all of her doubts to the recesses of her mind. Considering all that was at stake, an eye was a small price to pay. She still had another, just enough to see the mission through, whatever its end may be.
	Her undamaged oculus moved freely within its socket, moving its focus from the street to the black giant nestled above the buildings. The sight was almost hypnotic—the ship lorded over the dead city it had conquered, a clear image of its supremacy, like a hunter standing over its kill. It was no different than her, hunting the terrans that the protocols dictated become her prey. She had killed many of them, and she doubted that this was the beast’s first hunt either. It picked the carrion city apart while she hunted the aliens that dwelled within. It would not be long until-
	Movement.
	Her focus darted back to the street as she noticed a disturbance out of the corner of her eye. She instinctively brought her rifle back up and trained the holographic crosshairs on the activity across the intersection.
	Two terrans. Both male. Dressed in ragged winter clothing and wielding primitive weapons. The aliens travelled into the vicinity from the far-right street, pointing their guns every which way for signs of danger. One of them waved his partner ahead. The other terran ran across the intersection and signaled once he made it to the other side. They both relaxed once they reached the building, her target building, and climbed a small set of stairs to the front door.
	The huntress observed them carefully, focusing in on them as their faces came into view. These were not the terrans she was hunting, but they definitely belonged to the same group. Her trigger finger relaxed. These humans would not die today. Only if they got in the way of her true target.
	She exhaled, the resulting fog clouding her face before evaporating. These aliens were completely unpredictable. Always changing their plans and altering their routes. It took her nearly a week to find this one safehouse, and even then, she had no guarantee that her target would be here. Still she watched, hoping luck would be on her side.
	The terrans disappeared into the tenement, shutting the door behind them. The interloper would be discovered soon. That led to two possibilities, the huntress predicted. Either its intrusion would draw her enemy out into the open, or it would force them into hiding, leading her on another week-long search. Time would tell.
	The huntress pulled her hood forward, trapping the warmth of her breath and burying her face in shadow.

~*~*~*~*~

	The last clear memory Mar’kaa had was her last night in her city, the night the ship came.
	The yotje carefully dodged and weaved through the crowded, narrow street, paying mind to the massive load currently strapped to her back. A beautiful chorus sang over the hustle and bustle, a series of high-octave notes emitting from one of the city’s many loudspeakers, followed by an authoritative, feminine voice.
	“Attention all hivechildren: Curfew begins in fifteen minutes. Please make preparations to return to your homes. Streets must be cleared of all traffic and obstructions. All storefronts and stations should be closed and locked accordingly. Another productive day, hivechildren! The Hivemother smiles on you.”
	‘Productive day’. Mar’kaa certainly didn’t feel like it was. Her depot had been receiving repair orders nonstop due to the city’s rapidly decaying infrastructure. It was becoming too much to handle in a single eighteen-hour workday, and they were forced to put many of the requests on the backburner, either from a shortage of materials, lack of adequate tools, or the projects being so damaged that they were beyond repair.
	Workflow was at a standstill, and the overseer took out his frustrations the only way he could—on those under his watch, namely her.
	In order to keep their timetable from being pushed back even further, Mar’kaa took it upon herself to bring several projects home with her. It wasn’t ideal, but at least she would have the opportunity to work in peace.
	The electronic choir sang again. Another announcement. “Attention all hivechildren. Construction will begin tomorrow on several streets within city grid 8-5, and will therefore be closed from sunrise to sunset. Please be courteous to the workers on-site. The Hivemother appreciates your patience.”
	She held the straps around her shoulders tighter as she turned down another street, illuminated only by the fluorescent lighting that hung from fixtures above. The day was ending, but the streets looked no different than when she walked to work this morning. The buildings were so tightly packed together that the sun only reached ground level when it was highest in the sky, during midday. For the rest of the day the streets were cloaked in eternal shadow, it may as well have been nighttime.
	Mar’kaa emerged onto another street, this one much more crowded than the last. The violet wave of yotje moved as one, shoulder to shoulder, thousands of antennae bobbing up and down as each of them made their way towards their independent destinations.
	Anxiety welled up within her. She couldn’t avoid the crowds no matter how hard she tried. She visibly tensed as she forced herself into the moving mass. No stopping; that was considered rude. Mar’kaa kept her head down followed the male yotje in front of her in almost perfect lockstep, mindful not to step on any toes or hit anyone with her pack, which would surely lead to her holding up the crowd as she awkwardly stammered out an apology.
	“Attention all hivechildren. Due to the recent food shortage, distribution of rations will be halved until further notice. Please endeavor to arrive at your distribution center early to secure your place in line. Do not let your families starve, hivechildren! The Hivemother frowns upon it!”
	Finally, Mar’kaa reached a side street that was much less crowded, and she sighed in relief. She made turn after turn through the myriad of darkened streets and alleyways towards her block. Her hive-cluster towered over her. It was a twisted amalgamation of organic material and metal, the gray and olive-green interlocking to form a massive tower that stretched upward above the streets. Thousands of portholes covered the sides of the structure—individual nests--hers was higher up. After tightening the straps of her pack and making sure they were properly secure, she began her ascent.
	The hive’s uneven surface made for perfect handholds, crunching beneath the force she placed upon it as she made her way up. As she passed the top of an adjacent building, the setting sun peaked at her through a gap between two hive-clusters. Mar’kaa turned her head towards it. It was the first time she had seen the sun today.
	She could make out the rest of Tol’sur beyond. The city stretched out into the distance with no end in sight, ever expanding to accommodate its burgeoning population. Soon, the yotje began to build upward as well, resulting in the many hive-towers that dotted the skyline. Above the city proper, a thick smog cloud choked the sky, mixing with the twilight and turning the sky a strange, unnatural yellow. Smoke continued to belch from the factories at ground level, rising into the atmosphere and adding to the toxic brew.
	“Attention all hivechildren. Curfew will begin in ten minutes. Remaining outside after sunset is a punishable offense. Please return to your homes. If you are lost or unsure of where to go, please direct yourself to the nearest constable. Hivemother protect us all.”
	The sun began to descend as Mar’kaa continued her climb. Eventually she reached the nest where she and her family lived. The hole looked no different than the thousands of others that covered the surface of the tower, yet she knew its location by heart. She undid the straps of her pack with one hand while gripping the side of the building, pulling it off her shoulders and sending the heavy load through the open hole first. It slid down a short, inclined tunnel before coming to a rest inside the nest itself. Mar’kaa followed suit, holding onto the topmost edge of the opening and swinging herself through, feet-first.
	She caught the attention of the two elderly yotje sitting near the door as she completed her entrance. They were huddled close together, the four antennae above their heads moving against one another in an elegant dance. An invisible bond, one that only existed between them, connected the two lifemates. They clung to each other, as if afraid the other was going to float away.
	Mar’kaa had not seen her parents separate from each other in years. They were deemed too old for physical labor, leaving their eight children to take their places. They remained in the nest and kept each other company while Mar’kaa and her siblings kept the family fed. Too frail to mate anymore, they instead basked in each other’s presence, enjoying the bond that lifemates shared.
	The female leaned forward, squinting her faded eyes at the new arrival. “Is that you, Ces’lii?” she asked.
	“No, Mother, it’s Mar’kaa,” her daughter replied as she straightened out the bottom hem of her tunic. “Ces’lii’s away, remember?”
	“Ah, that’s right,” Sey’nii mused, leaning back. “All of you, out working. I get so worried.” She was always worried. “Did you bring the rations?” she asked.
	“No, Mother. It’s Nid’zii’s turn this week.”
	“What’s all this, then?” Her mother pulled at the bag resting at Mar’kaa’s feet.
	“Just work,” Mar’kaa answered simply.
	“You just got home,” Sey’nii argued, her face showing concern. “You still have work to do?”
	“We’re falling behind in our quotas,” Mar’kaa explained to her for what was probably the twelfth time. “If I don’t get everything done on time—”
	“Mar’kaa,” her mother interrupted. The younger yotje froze and lowered her head, her lopsided antennae drooping downward. Sey’nii rose and steadily approached her, resting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. Her father sat silently, watching the two. He only ever spoke when he felt he had something useful to say.
	“You can’t push yourself so hard.” Sey’nii warned as she brought a hand up to Mar’kaa’s shorter antenna. She attempted to set it upright like its twin, to no avail. It instead fell back to its original position, down and off to the side.
	“Mother, I…” Mar’kaa started as went back and forth between staring at her mother’s face and the floor. At this proximity she could she the effects age had on her mother. Her carapace had lost the vibrant purple sheen of more youthful females, and had instead become dull and mottled. Her once glowing, scarlet eyes had also faded to a darkish pink.
	Her father looked no different. They were both well into their forties, and soon they wouldn’t have to be taken care of anymore. Mar’kaa was more than capable of fending for herself, as were her brothers and sisters, but she still dreaded the notion.
	Sey’nii took Mar’kaa’s silence for agreement. “Promise me you’ll get some rest tonight?” She gripped her daughter’s shoulders tighter. “You’ll do no one any good if you drop dead of exhaustion. A nestmother should never outlive her hatchlings.”
	“Of course, Mother.”
	Sey’nii smiled and leaned forward. Her antennae fluttered and tickled Mar’kaa’s face in a show of affection. She released her at last.
	Mar’kaa gave a silent acknowledgement to her father, who equally returned it, and she picked up her bag and made her way over to her corner of the nest, several feet away. The overall space was compact yet manageable for the modest family of ten. Thankfully, all four of her brothers and a few of her sisters were working overnight, meaning that Mar’kaa would have plenty of space for herself tonight.
	She sat on the floor and immediately set to her work, unpacking the large device that made up the bulk of what she carried home. She reached into her pack for an array of tools and parts, laying them out in an orderly manner on the floor before directing her focus on the machine itself.
	It was a municipal loudspeaker, one of the thousands that carried government proclamations and news broadcasts across the city. It was nearly the size of her torso and had multiple dents and scratches across its chassis. It had fallen from its perch above a street corner, almost crushing two hatchlings playing underneath it, and had taken a severe beating from hitting the pavement before it was brought to her depot.
	Mar’kaa examined it superficially from every angle. The damage to the outside was only cosmetic—she could hammer out the dents and paint over the scratches easily. She turned it over and loosened the bolts on the access panel. Now for the inside…
	Her eyes widened at the mess contained within; components were knocked loose and wires strewn everywhere. Mar’kaa reached into the technical disarray with both hands, reattaching the wires and placing the wayward pieces back into place.
	After applying a bit of adhesive to a lacerated wire, she noticed a few parts were missing, namely the electrical coil that allowed the transfer of signals to the speaker itself. It must have gotten lost when it fell or during the transit to the depot.
	Mar’kaa pondered this dilemma. The depot didn’t have any spares--that much was certain, and the overseer probably wouldn’t appreciate her using their limited surplus of conductive metals to fashion a new one, not when they could be put to better use on more important projects.
	She could probably search the street where the speaker fell on the incredibly slim chance that the part was still there, but she doubted her schedule would allow it. Mar’kaa squeezed her eyes shut in silent frustration, trapping the nodes of her antennae between her fists. 
	“Attention all hivechildren. Curfew is now in effect. Anyone caught outside before sunrise will be arrested and detained. The Hivemother bids you a fair rest.”
	Mar’kaa glanced out the entrance to the nest. The evening sunlight had since disappeared and was replaced by a void of black. Where are you, Nid’zii?
	Almost on cue, another yotje slid down the incline. She had a disheveled, unorganized appearance about her—her tunic and trousers had tears in several places, a deliberate fashion statement on her part. She jumped to her feet in one fluid motion, small bag in hand.
	Nid’zii exchanged greetings with her parents, handing them two small packets from the bag before turning and approaching her sister. She plopped down on the floor next to her.
	“So…” Nid’zii appraised the plethora of tools and machine parts scattered about. “Another exciting night for Mar’kaa?”
	Mar’kaa offered a soft smile. Her sister reached into the bag and handed her one of the packets. It was a standard ration; various types of plant matter synthesized into a solid, compact bar. It tasted terrible, but got the job done when it came to providing nutrients for a day. Mar’kaa took it, but set it aside. It hadn’t been long since her last meal, if it could be called that, and she wasn’t in any hurry to dig into the next one.
	“They shuttered the distribution center just as I walked out the door,” said Nid’zii. “The yotje in line behind me had to go home without food,” She brought her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth lackadaisically. “They have us working nonstop at the arboretum too, but…” Nid’zii picked up one of Mar’kaa’s tools—a small soldering iron—and fiddled with it absent-mindedly. “…at least they don’t have me taking the work home with me.”
	Mar’kaa snatched the iron from her sister’s grasp before she ended up scorching her hand. “I’m doing all this on my own,” she replied as she closed the loudspeaker’s panel and began screwing it shut. “The last thing I need is the overseer yelling at me more than he already does.”
	“Always work, work, work, with you,” Nid’zii mocked playfully. “And I was hoping we might have a little fun tonight.”
	Mar’kaa gave her a strange look. There wasn’t much for them to do in the nest, and they couldn’t go outside, not with the curfew. “What do you mean?”
	Nid’zii reached into her bag and withdraw a small, clear cylinder. She gave it a tantalizing shake, the greenish-brown liquid sloshing chaotically within its confines. Mar’kaa’s heart skipped. Given her sister’s track record for getting them both into trouble, she immediately knew what it was.
	“Nid’zii-!” she whispered harshly. Mar’kaa reached out in an attempt to conceal the bottle back within the safety of the bag. “Where did you get that?”
	Nid’zii held it out of her reach, bringing it close to her face and admiring the potent liquid as it splashed back and forth. “Remember Kai’min, from where I work? He knows a yotje who knows another yotje.” Her mouth curved into a smile. “He wants to be my lifemate so badly, he goes through all the trouble to get stuff like this to sway me,” Nid’zii giggled as turned the bottle in her grip. “Silly male. I can sense his pheromones a mile off.”
	“Alcohol is forbidden,” Mar’kaa said sternly, ignoring her sister’s musings. “If we get caught—"
	“Caught?” Nid’zii laughed. “Who’s going to report us? Mother and father?”
	Mar’kaa nervously looked over her shoulder at her parents. They were sitting in the same spot, more focused on each other rather than what was happening around them. Still, how could she be so careless? If a constable happened to stop Nid’zii on the way home and searched her, they would have never seen her again.
	Before Mar’kaa could reprimand her further, Nid’zii spoke up again. “And what about you, dear sister?” She shuffled her backward to the organic wall, leaning against it and unscrewing the cylinder’s cap. “Have you met anyone special at that workshop of yours? Not likely if you bury yourself those machines.”
	There she went, changing the subject before Mar’kaa could get a word in edgewise. But she wasn’t wrong. Mar’kaa didn’t know many yotje that she would call friends. Being sociable always exhausted her. She felt more at peace with only her own thoughts to keep her company. Her more reclusive tendencies must have been rather off-putting to others. The other workers at the depot never said more than a few words to her, or avoided her entirely. These days, only Nid’zii made a genuine effort to converse with her.
	No males ever approached her for the prospect of mating either. It was mostly due to a lack of effort on her part to put herself out there, but sometimes she wondered if it went beyond that. She self-consciously regarded her disfigured antenna as it hung limply atop her head. It functioned just about the same as her regular one, but even she could see how the asymmetry would be unattractive to any male. She didn’t blame them.
	“I…well…” She struggled to find her words as all of her insecurities bubbled up at once.
	Nid’zii brought the bottle to her lips, wincing as the powerful concoction hit her taste buds, forcing it down her gullet. “Well, it’s like I said,” she continued, her voice cracking as the alcohol burned her throat. “You have to open up just a little, be more approachable,” She twirled the glass again. “It’s not like your lifemate will drop from the sky and just whisk you away.”
	Mar’kaa glanced at the floor. “I know…” she replied meekly. 
	With a smirk, Nid’zii offered her the glass. Mar’kaa stared at it apprehensively. The stuff was outlawed for a reason. Who knows what effect it would have on her?
	Maybe Nid’zii was right. Maybe she did need to relax…
	Just as Mar’kaa reached out to take the glass, a low, intense hum began to resonate within the sensory receptors of her antennae. She recoiled as the sound pierced her physical being and sent uncomfortable vibrations through her insides. It seemed as if the noise came from within her own head, but as Mar’kaa looked around, she noticed that Nid’zii was visibly reacting to it too, as were her parents.
	Her mechanic’s instincts took over and she searched the room for the noise’s origin; maybe it was some equipment failure or one of the loudspeakers outside was acting up, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Nothing yotje-built did something like this. This sound was completely unnatural, otherworldly, even.
	“What is that…?” Nid’zii asked, still disoriented from the strange sensation. Commotion outside made her rise to her feet and walk toward the nest-hole. Mar’kaa was oddly compelled to follow her.
	“Girls,” Sey’nii called out to the both of them. “You can’t go out, it’s curfew!”
	“I know, Mother, just…” Nid’zii shouted back without looking away from the door. The two sisters climbed the small tunnel to the outside of the nest-tower, where they joined dozens of other yotje who had emerged from their own nests for the very same reason.
	That’s when they saw it.  Within the smog that hung over the city, a black mass began to take shape. It was enormous, forming a faint, ghastly silhouette through the haze. The hum became more severe, drowning out the shouts and murmurs of the other yotje. Mar’kaa suddenly felt like her entire body was hollow. The strange reverberations rang through her once again and she suddenly felt very weak.
The clouds billowed and swirled as the black entity descended beneath the pollution, its form much clearer now. Elongated, smooth in shape, with blue dots about its body.
	A few yotje knelt and whispered in reverence. Perhaps they thought that the Hivemother had come, to save them from their current troubles. Mar’kaa wasn’t so sure. There was no warmness to its presence, only a dark foreboding.
	Mar’kaa turned her head to speak to Nid’zii when everything went white. Her breath caught in her throat and her joints stiffened. She couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t see anything. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but she forgot how.
	She needed to reach out to Nid’zii. She was right next to her. Mar’kaa attempted to move her arm, but it was as if the signal from her brain was lost halfway through. Her vision was extremely foggy—only able to process faint lights and blurred shapes. She had also lost all feeling in her body, giving her no sense of presence. Was she lying down? It felt like she was floating instead.
	Her heart was surely pounding ferociously in her chest, but she didn’t feel it. Instead of dread, Mar’kaa felt a strange sense of peace. Her mind began to relax and she felt a comfortable numbness. The shapes in her vision were moving, but she was no longer concerned with what was happening around her. Soon she forgot where she was, or what she was doing beforehand. Who was she with? It didn’t matter.
	Only her mind remained, floating in the unfamiliar ether. Darkness followed.

~*~*~*~*~

	Mar’kaa’s sleep was broken an intense, orange light shining into her half-open eyes, fluttering then squinting shut at the hostile intrusion upon her rest. Mar’kaa rolled herself over to escape it, eager to return to sleep, if only for a moment.
	Her own body betrayed her and began to wake itself up. So many years of labor had acclimated her to early risings. She had to get up, or else her family would starve. Mar’kaa let out an exasperated groan, mentally preparing herself for another exciting day at Repair Depot #5.
	But as she opened her eyes, expecting to see the dirty walls and ceiling of her nest, her heart stopped.
	These walls were cleaner, the room was more furnished, and she was lying on a raised, cushioned surface rather than on the floor.
[CONDUIT 76847290 HAS REGAINED CONCIOUSNESS. PRIMACY INTERFACE REACTIVATED]
	Mar’kaa jumped as the orange script appeared across her eyesight. It was joined by a multitude of shapes and other symbols of the same color. Mar’kaa frantically looked about the unfamiliar environment, the electronic display remaining in her vision like sunspots.
	Everything came rushing back to her at once, everything that had happened. Where she was. How she got here. The morning sunlight poured into the room through the glass door, shining fiercely without a cloud of pollutants masking it, burning the yotje’s large, sensitive eyes. The cold, white powder had ceased falling from the sky and was piled on the ground.
	Mar’kaa let her head land back on the cushion as her brain overloaded itself. It wasn’t a dream after all. This was really happening.
	She lay there, looking at the ceiling for the longest time, coming to terms with her current situation. She decided that she was doing herself no favors by moping around like this. She needed to take action, but how? She had no idea where to begin.
	Some food to start, Mar’kaa decided. She needed a fresh head going into this.
	She lowered herself from the couch, accidently stepping on the various pieces of armor she had discarded on the floor. Mar’kaa stepped over the damaged shoulder plate as she made her way towards the indoor garden.
[WARNING: HOSTILE PRESENCE DETECTED]
	The notification flashed and Mar’kaa’s antennae perked as she heard noises coming from the far side of the room. Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the wooden door. The lock began to rattle.
	Mar’kaa scrambled back behind the couch as the door opened. Her interface’s radar picked up two figures entering the space. She dared not move from her cover, instead listening to the assorted sounds that came from their direction—rustling of heavy clothing, a cough, and a few more footsteps. Finally, a voice.
	“You still checking that thing?”
	Curious, Mar’kaa cautiously peeked out from behind the foot of the couch. The tall forms idled in the entranceway, bundled in a mishmash of ragged clothing. In their hands were rusted weapons with worn wooden finishes. They were taller than yotje by several feet, maintaining an air of dominance with their very presence. Even with just a glance and with their backs turned, Mar’kaa knew what these creatures were.
	Humans. But these ones looked different than the ones in the pictures and recordings she had seen. The two humans were dirty. Grime covered their pale faces and long, unkempt locks of thin fur spilled out from the tops of their heads. They had a desperate look about them, like they had been living rough for some time.
	“Figured I’d get a signal eventually,” said one of the humans, this one portlier than the other, while directing his focus on a small, handheld device. “Getting no bars, everywhere I go.”
	The skinnier human scoffed. “Give it up, man. Cell towers are all dead. Why do you think we haven’t heard anything from the outside world?”
	Mar’kaa listened intently to their conversation. They were speaking in Yotjen. How was that possible? Perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe her cybernetics were turning their language into one she could understand. Talk about convenient.
	“Yeah, you’re right,” the human replied, dropping the device into his pocket. “I guess the xenos don’t want us calling for any help.”
	“Fuckers never make anything easy,” the other human shouldered his weapon and began digging through one of the boxes. “C’mon, let’s get this place sorted out. The boss’ll be here soon.”
	“He’s on his way?”
	“Yeah, but he’s taking the long way, through the tunnels.”
	“Guy’s getting more and more paranoid.”
	“Can you blame him?” the human paused whatever he was doing and turned his head in the other human’s direction, as well as Mar’kaa’s. She swiftly pulled her head back into cover, out of the human’s sight but still listening in. “I’m telling you, someone’s gunning for us. Our guys getting whacked, the missing supplies, it’s becoming too frequent.”
	His partner shrugged. “That’s the nature of the business. All the loot we’ve been finding, the other gangs were bound to notice sooner or later. Plus, with the xenos making a push from their ship…”
	“I’m not so sure. You hear what happened to Domingo’s group?”
	“The guys at the warehouse on 27th?
	“Yeah, them. They brought back a couple of whores they found hiding in a hotel. Some of our guys go over to their camp, hoping they can trade for a round or two with them.”
	“Okay. And?”
	"So, Vinny and Mad Jack get there, and they find everyone dead, and the whores were set free. It was like a fucking slaughterhouse, they said. Heads blown open, severed limbs, slit throats…”
	“Jesus…” A few seconds of silence followed before the human spoke up again. “You think it was the xenos?”
	“No way,” the other human replied. “They aren’t usually this messy, and the whores would’ve been killed too. This was something else.”
	“Another gang?”
	“Maybe, but I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this. Whatever it is, we need to keep our guard up from here on out.”
	“Yeah, I hear you.”
	Mar’kaa sensed one of the humans moving in her direction. With haste she dove under the low table in front of the couch, careful not to disturb the armor plates that littered the floor. Two flat feet covered by threadbare boots appeared a few feet away from her.
	“Anyway,” the voice that Mar’kaa recognized as belonging to the thinner human continued. “I’m gonna go see how the crops are doing,” The boots strode toward the door to the garden before stopping and turning around at the last minute. “You go get those weapons the boss asked for, the heavy-duty shit. They should be in one of the bedrooms somewhere.”
	“You got it,” the other human replied. Mar’kaa saw the skinny human disappear into the greenhouse, but she sensed that the more rotund alien was still in the room. She heard his footsteps nearby, as wells as a few coughs before he began to move away from her toward some unseen part of the house.
	Mar’kaa slowly emerged from her hiding place when she felt the coast was clear. She had a feeling that finding a place like this was too good to be true. These humans didn’t seem too friendly. Dangerous, even. She figured they wouldn’t react kindly to her being here. She needed to leave.
	The yotje scrambled to gather her things, strapping on her metal boots and shouldering her bag. With no time to put on the rest of the armor, Mar’kaa made a beeline toward the door, too focused on what she was going to do next to see the human emerge again from the small hallway.
	“Hey, Ronny, where did we put the—”
	The human stopped as he saw the tiny alien stare back at him, frozen mid-stride like a deer in headlights.
	“Xeno!” he bellowed as he lifted his weapon. Mar’kaa spun on her toes back the way she came and sprinted around the back corner of the couch. A deafening boom resonated behind her. She let out a small scream as the back cushion of the couch blew apart in a shower of leather and fluff. The human swore in frustration, raking his shotgun as he pursued the alien intruder.
	Mar’kaa raced to the sliding door, the exit seeming so far away. Panic struck as she caught her foot on a loose electric cord, sending her tumbling forward onto the floor. She hastily recovered, beginning to push herself back on her feet when the other human set upon her.
	“I got it!” The human wrapped his arm around the xeno’s tiny body in a firm chokehold. The insectoid alien writhed and screamed, struggling unsuccessfully to escape the human’s superior strength.
	“Tsa’laa gyd’ehh! Hau’roh’saa!” the xeno exclaimed in its native tongue.
	“Holy shit, they fucking talk!” its captor said in surprise, effortlessly keeping his grip on the squirming creature.
	The other human approached, regarding their catch with apprehensiveness. “What do we do? Do we kill it?”
	“No, let’s leave it for Cutter. Let him decide.”
	Mar’kaa continued to writhe in the human’s grasp, her escape attempts useless. She resorted to the only other option she could think of, opening her mouth wide and bringing it down on the human’s uncovered wrist.
	Yotje didn’t have sharp teeth; they were flat yet sturdy enough to break down the plants and small fruits that made up their diet. Mar’kaa clamped onto the human’s forearm with as much strength as her jaw allowed, with just enough force to slightly break skin.
	"Gah-! Fuck!” the human yelled. He reflexively pulled his arm away, spinning his body and flinging the small bug away from him. Mar’kaa flew through the air a short distance and crashed into a nearby shelf, dislodging it from the wall and raining its contents on top of her. She looked up in a daze at the human who clutched his injured forearm with fury in his eyes.
	“You little shit-!” His boot rose and connected with the side of her head. The forceful kick sent Mar’kaa’s cranium impacting against the wall. Her senses went erratic before everything started to fade.

[…]

	Gavin awoke to a knock at the door of his closet-turned-sleeping quarters. He lifted his head to see Alex peeking her head halfway through the door.
	“Up and at ‘em, Gav, team meeting,” she said.
	“Right behind you,” He swung his legs over the side of his cot and rose to his feet, his muscles still sore from the previous night, but voicing no complaints. After quickly dressing, he followed his partner down the hall and into the workshop, where the rest of their group was waiting.
	Frank stood at the center table with the strange alien contraption placed atop it, and noticed the arrival of his remaining crew. “Everyone’s here? Good. Mike, what’s this plan of yours?”
	Mike hopped off the countertop he was sitting on and took his place around the table. “You guys remember Cutter, right?”
	Gavin and Frank looked at each other. They were all too familiar with Cutter. A local troublemaker who saw himself as a bigshot street boss, he had stuck around after the evacuation hoping to take advantage of the chaos, with a majority of the bandits answering to him. They were pretty well-armed for a bunch of criminals, which suggested that Cutter was planning for something like this for a while.
	“I ran into one of his guys on my last scav-run,” Mike continued. “They got their hands on a bunch of xeno tech. I say we have a sit-down, strike up a deal with them and see where it leads us.”
	The room was silent as the group considered his proposal, until Alex objected.
	“THAT’S your plan?” she chastised. “You actually trust those low-lives?”
	“The xenos have been giving them trouble recently,” Mike explained, not losing his confidence. “They need medical supplies, that’s all. I already talked to Doc Travers. She’s willing to part with a few things.”
	Alex didn’t let up. “How do you know they’re not bullshitting you?”
	“These are desperate times, Alex. They have no reason to lie to us.”
	“I hate to break it to you, Mike, but bandits aren’t exactly the most honest of individuals,” She turned to Frank. “I don’t like this at all.”
	“Fuck it, I’ll go,” Gavin interjected. “It beats sitting around here, doing nothing.” He shot a knowing look at Alex. She returned it, annoyed at her partner’s spiteful contrarianism.
	Frank leaned over the table, head down and deep in thought. “Alright, let’s give it a shot,” He looked up at Mike. “Just make the deal and come back quickly. Walk away if things get sketchy. No unnecessary risks.”  Mike nodded, and he and Gavin made their way out the door. Alex’s gaze followed them out, silently admonishing them for their foolish endeavor.
	Gavin and Mike dressed themselves to prepare for the cold outside. “You know where we’re going?” Gavin asked, retrieving a spare backpack to replace his destroyed one.
	“Cutter’s guys have a safehouse, corner of 2nd and Queen,” Mike replied, pulling a wool cap over his head. “Brick building, greenhouse on top, can’t miss it.”
	Making their way upstairs, they stopped at Travers’ clinic, letting her know that their plan was in effect. The naval doctor gathered up several supplies from her cache—first aid materials, as well as bottles of penicillin and antibiotics.
	“This stuff doesn’t grow on trees, you know,” she remarked, delicately placing the glass bottles within a small, metal briefcase. “Are you sure we’re going to see some results from this?”
	“Guess we’ll see,” Mike said. “If anything, consider it an act of charity, doc. You’ll be helping out your fellow homo sapiens.”
	“Would these bandits do the same for us?” she asked, a question to which Mike had no answer. “The captain knows we’re doing this, right?”
	Mike said nothing. Gavin gave an innocent-yet-guilty shrugging motion.
	“Forget I asked,” Travers closed and latched the case, handing it to them. “Watch yourselves out there.”
	“Thanks, doc.” The two left the clinic and travelled to their next stop before leaving. The National Guard sergeant who acted as quartermaster begrudgingly surrendered two rifles to the scavengers, as well as two earpiece radios, in case they were separated from one another. The xenos had jammed any sort of long-distance communication within the city limits, and short-range signals were only effective for twenty feet at most. Still, it was better than nothing.
	“Exit! Two raccoons on scav mission!”
	“Roger, logged!”
	A gust of cold wind assaulted the two as the blast door slowly inched open. They climbed the incline back up to ground level, leaving the warmth of the bunker behind as the door closed behind them.
	“I’m not designed for this weather,” Mike muttered, pulling his hat further down his ears. They exited the innocuous building that disguised their hideout. Gavin took a cursory glance toward the city beyond.
	“Yep, still there.”
	The xeno’s spaceship hung over the outcropping of skyscrapers in the distance, the same as it always had. Gavin hoped that his interactions with the invaders the previous night would be the last for a while. He had enough extraterrestrial contact to last a lifetime.
	“You ready?” Mike asked him.
	“As I’ll ever be,” he sighed as they started walking, daringly casting themselves into the ruins once again.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #53: Scavenging mission log recorded by Army Specialist Alexandra Torres (United States Army National Guard), dated December 19, 2029

“Partnered with Mike on this one. Gav mouthed off to the captain again and was put on septic tank duty today. Frank gave us a list of things he needs, but Kowalczyk came to us with his own requests too. Bunch of computer equipment and electronic parts, many of which haven’t been mass produced in nearly forty years. Must have something to do with what he’s working on behind that door, but he’s delusional if he thinks we’re going to find these things without a time machine.

CHECKLIST
Static compensators [CHECKMARKED]
2” diameter electrical tubing [CHECKMARKED]
Welding torchhead (replace broken one) [CIRCLED]
L-shaped water pipes [CROSSED OUT]
9-volt batteries [CROSSED OUT]
3x5 vent shielding (standard) [CHECKMARKED]

TIMELINE
10:32—Left bunker. Weather was surprisingly warm despite the recent cold snap. Shouldn’t get my hopes up—it’s usually a sign that we’ve got some mean snowstorms coming. Reminder to restock on winter clothing for bunker crew.
11:17—Took Safe Route B northeast into the city. Along the way we saw two bodies, half-frozen in the middle of the street, a man and a woman, both civilians. They’d been shot, with human weapons judging by the wounds. The handiwork of the bandits, no doubt. Mike suggested we do something about the bodies but I urged him onward, insisting there was no time.
11:36—Arrived at first destination—Rio Grande Shipping Warehouse off of East Oregon. Place had been looted during the initial chaos of the invasion but a lot was left untouched. Spent a good hour rummaging through the boxes and found a good surplus of interchangeables. Will mark this location for future excursions.
12:51—Headed northwest towards Passyunk. Mike tried to pass the time discussing his theories on what the xenos are doing here, and that soon transitioned to ramblings on government conspiracies and cover-ups. Don’t know how this man sleeps at night.
13:14—Nobunaga Electronics Store on Wharton Street. Thought this lead would be a dead end due to the looting, but we did manage to find a few extension cords as well as an old device that Kowalczyk wanted in the retro tech section of the store.
13:43—Crossed paths with a group of bandits on 16th. Mike tells me they’re part of Cutter’s group, some opportunistic, wannabe gangster who was crazy enough to stick around here. The group didn’t attack us, but directed some catcalls and whistles in my direction. I would’ve shot them had that not gone against our rules of engagement Considering our current circumstances, now isn’t the time to be playing nice with street thugs, but orders are orders.
14:02—Gomez Bros. Plumbing Company [CROSSED OUT] ABORTED. Reached this location on Fitzwater and saw nothing but xenos roaming the street. Nearly two dozen of those bugs picking through the storefronts like they were looking for something, as well as the big lizards standing guard. We were treading too close to the Zone this time around, left the area before we were discovered.
14:25—On a whim we ducked into a supermarket along Safe Route D on the way back. It was picked clean, unsurprisingly, but I found a still-loaded truck parked in the loading dock out back. We took as much as we could carry—canned fruits and vegetables as well as some packaged foodstuffs that had been preserved by the cold.
15:10—Caught movement out of the corner of my eye along the rooftops. It was human-like, yet taller and broader and wearing some kind of shawl. I looked again but it was gone. It was a xeno, for sure, probably scouting us, which doesn’t fit their usual behavior. Out of caution I led Mike through the alleyways to try to lose its tail, much to his confusion. If it wanted to kill us it would’ve done so, but I couldn’t risk leading it back to the bunker.
15:44—Arrived back at base. A successful mission overall despite all the setbacks. I guess I should count my blessings.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 5: Urban Savages

	Gavin and Mike clumsily attempted to navigate the labyrinth of crashed vehicles and plastic barricades as they trekked north into the city. The results of last night’s snowfall made their journey all the more difficult. Their boots crunched through the freshly-piled fluff that had accumulated on the street. Gavin had strapped their case of precious medical supplies to his backpack to keep from dropping it after he had nearly lost his footing in the wintery mess.
	He took a look around as he reached another intersection, keeping an eye out for any xenos that might be lurking around the corners. The empty streets were oddly peaceful; with a serene, post-apocalyptic charm that was extremely mesmerizing. Christmas decorations hung from storefronts and lampposts, put up two months early, as always, in preparation for a holiday season that would ultimately never be celebrated.
	Mike soon joined him, hopping off the hood of an abandoned car and breaking Gavin out of his trance. “It’s this way,” he said, pointing down the rightmost street. “Cutter’s man said he would meet us in one of the alleys.”
	“Are you absolutely sure we can trust these guys?” Gavin asked. The two began to trudge through the snow again.
	“Can you trust anyone these days? Besides, you want xeno tech? This is the easiest way to do it, short of hunting the xenos ourselves.”
	“Yeah, but still, you’ve seen what Cutter is like.”
	“This guy we’re meeting, he’ll be our go-between,” Mike reassured him. “We won’t even have to deal with Cutter.”
	“Hope so,” Gavin said. Mike was always too trusting for his own good. Here was hoping his good nature would get them somewhere. They turned down another street at the next intersection. The alien ship was partially in view from their position, hanging over the city as a constant reminder of their current situation.
	“Why do you think they’re here?” Mike asked.
	“The xenos?”
	“Yeah.”
	Gavin looked at the ship again. Everyone at the bunker had their theories. He didn’t really think about it too much.“Does it matter?” he asked, having no real answer.
	“Course it does. How do we fight against them if we don’t understand them?”
	“Alright then, why are they here, professor?”
	Mike gestured at the dilapidated buildings that made up the city center. “You see how the buildings are getting smaller?”
	Gavin scanned the skyscrapers, noticing that they had been cut down at the top by several stories. “Yeah, now that you mention it…”
	“My guess is they’re demolishing the city little by little. Maybe they’re using the materials for something. I’ve seen some of the xenos digging around and bringing things back to their zone.”
	"So, they're scavenging, just like us," Gavin concluded.
	"Just like us."
	So that's what it came down to. A race to pick the city apart. "Okay, but why here?” Gavin inquired, his interest piquing. “Why Philly?”
	“Big city, lots of resources to work with. Wouldn’t be surprised if other cities were hit too.”
	“That makes sense. It would explain why our military friends haven’t received any help. They must be stretched thin everywhere.”
	"Yeah. I’ve got family in New York, hope they’re doing okay…” Mike trailed off, leaving them to march through the snow in silence before speaking up again. “You think the government’s behind this?”
	“What?”
	“I’ve read about UFOs, Area 51, stuff like that. The government must’ve been in contact with the aliens for what, fifty, sixty years?
	“Mike, what the fuck are you talking about?”
	“Think about everything that’s been happening,” Mike continued. “Overpopulation, crime, civil unrest. The powers that be want to start everything over. Wipe the slate clean. How do you do that without it being traced back to you?” He pointed to the floating ship. “Have a proxy do it. Plausible deniability.”
	Gavin shook his head, none too eager to be dragged down the rabbit hole along with his co-worker. “Remind me to find some tin foil the next time we’re out here. We need to fashion you a new hat.”
	“Yeah, very funny,” Mike stopped, peaking down one of the alleyways that rested between the buildings. “Hey, there he is.”
	Gavin followed Mike’s gaze down the nearby side street. A man leaned casually against the brick wall. Most of his head was concealed by thermal wrappings to shield him from the cold. He wore a heavy coat that looked to be two sizes too big, tiny stubs of fingers poking from the long sleeve clutched a cigarette which he occasionally brought to his lips. He finally noticed them—beady eyes staring back at them through unkempt strands of hair.
	“Yeah, this doesn’t look shady at all…” Gavin muttered.
	“Relax,” Mike said as he began his approach. “Let me do the talking.”
	Their contact pushed himself off the wall as the two entered the alley. He regarded both of them with an unreadable expression.
	“How’s it going, Luis?” Mike greeted casually.
	“Can’t complain,” he replied. “You two came alone?”
	“Do you see anyone else here?” Gavin remarked glibly. The bandit shot him an unimpressed look.
	“Easy, Gav,” Mike said, putting his hand up. “Listen, we’re here about the thing.”
	“You got what we asked for?” Luis asked. Gavin turned his body to the right, showing off the metal case strapped to his backpack. Luis took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. “Follow me.”
	The bandit turned and headed down the alleyway with Gavin and Mike following cautiously behind. They turned a corner, arriving at a dead end. Before they could ask questions, Luis let out a sharp whistle. Gavin and Mike heard the characteristic click-clack of automatic weapons behind them. Two more bandits appeared as if from nowhere, their guns drawn on the two scavengers.
	“The hell is this?” Gavin demanded, turning back to Luis.
	“Weapons on the ground,” the bandit ordered. “Now.”
	“Whoa, hang on,” Mike interjected, attempting to reign everyone back in. “What about our deal?”
	“Deal’s off,” Luis stated. “Cutter has some plans of his own, and you’re going to help us. Now drop your guns. I won’t ask again.”
	The two reluctantly unslung their rifles from their shoulders and dropped them to the ground in front of them. “Look, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Mike offered, still trying to solve things diplomatically even though it was clear that opportunity had passed. “Let’s just—”
	The bandit behind him had apparently lost his patience already and brought the stock of his rifle around, striking Mike along the hamstring of his leg. He cried out as he stumbled to his knees.
	“Hey--!” Gavin yelled. He moved to get between Mike and his attacker. The other bandit, the largest of the three, was on him in seconds, pushing him back against the wall and delivering a few blows of his own—a knee to the stomach followed by a left hook across the jaw.
	Discombobulated, Gavin was thrown into the pile of trash behind him. He watched helplessly as his partner was now lay prone on his side, trying and failing to block the assorted kicks to his ribs. Gavin’s oafish opponent was about to set upon him again when Luis stepped in.
	“Alright, that’s enough,” he yelled, “unless you want to drag them back to the safehouse?” With that, the bandits pulled their prey to their feet. Gavin shot a look to Mike as the latter was nursing his injuries. “Start walking,” the lead bandit demanded. Gavin and Mike were marched out of the alleyway, rifle barrels encouraging them from behind.

[…]

	Mar’kaa recovered from her stupor, fluttering her eyes open and shut as her augmented vision focused. A length of tape was placed across her mouth, muffling her delirious murmuring.
	The room was upside down. Or rather, she was, the yotje soon realized. Her human captors had hung her from a vertical pipeline running along the far wall, adhesive binding her by the ankles to the fixture. Her wrists were likewise bound, tied together and dangling above her head.
	One of the aliens stood guard from across the room, eying her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He watched as the xeno’s antennae twitched, its half-lidded, insect-like eyes shimmering as light bounced off them.
	“Jesus…” the other human grumbled as he emerged from another room, holding a cloth to the bite marks on his wrist. “This look infected to you?” he asked, showing it to his cohort.
	His partner barely glanced at it. “Shut up, you’ll be fine.”
	The injured human covered his arm again, staring daggers at their prisoner. “I thought these things were all mindless drones. What’s this one doing alone?”
	“Dunno,” the other one shrugged. He began to pace across the room, closer to the alien. “Cutter’s gonna be happy we caught one, though. He can keep it as a pet, maybe.”
	“Did you hear its voice? Sounded female.”
	“Is that so…” The human now stood inches away from the tiny xeno, his eyes trailing her upturned figure. He slowly placed a hand on one of her pronounced hips, feeling at the hardened carapace through the black bodysuit. Mar’kaa recoiled at the sudden touch, squirming against her constraints. The other human took notice.
	“What the fuck are you doing?”
	The human didn’t take his hand away. His fingers trailed upward along the curvature of the alien’s hip toward the hourglass shape of her midsection. “You think it has parts like a female?” he wondered aloud.
	“Dude, it’s like a giant bug thing. The fuck’s wrong with you?”
	“I’m just saying,” he replied. The alien attempted to writhe away from the unwanted intrusions upon her person. “All the women are either dead or ran off. It gets lonely sometimes.”
	“Just keep that shit to yourself, bug-fucker.”
	They were interrupted by the front door opening and several other bandits filing inside the penthouse. Leading them was an intimidating man with broad shoulders. His head was cleanly shaven and a multitude of scars lined his scalp and face. His wolfish eyes immediately travelled to the very obvious anomaly in the room. He looked to the two men who were keeping watch over it, silently demanding some kind of explanation,
	“It’s a xeno, boss.”
	“I know what it is, fuckface,” Cutter spat. “What the fuck is it doing here?”
	“We caught it snooping around when we got here.”
	Cutter suddenly withdrew a pistol from the inside of his longcoat, levelling it at the heavy-set bandit who stood closest to the alien.
	“Are you so incompetent that you can’t keep a simple storehouse hidden?” he growled.
	“No, boss!”
“It’s a scout, sent to look for any weaknesses.” He pressed the barrel closer to his subordinate’s head. “Did you change up your route on your way here, like I fucking told you to?”
“Yes, boss, every single time,” he stammered, visibly shaking.
	Cutter starred down the barrel at him for nearly ten seconds, before lowering his gun. His underling let go a breath he was holding. Cutter glanced once more at the alien, hung up like an animal ready for slaughter. Its large, red eyes met his for a brief moment before averting its gaze in a clear show of fear.
	“Boss,” another bandit called out as he entered the house. “We caught those two grease-monkeys. They’re downstairs.”
	Cutter nodded as he continued to observe the captive xeno. “Our timetable’s been pushed up,” he stated calmly as he turned to the men gathered in the living room. “Weapons?”
	“Right here,” the skinny bandit with the xeno bite said, gesturing to an opened crate of AKs sitting atop a coffee table.
	“Everyone load up,” Cutter ordered and the bandits quickly obliged, each of them grabbing one of the mass-produced rifles from the stockpile. “Time to see what those uniforms have been keeping from us.” The bandits loaded the weapons and pocketed the extra magazines before striding out of the penthouse one by one, with Cutter following.
	“Boss,” one of the safehouse guards stopped him. “What about the xeno?”
	Cutter looked over his shoulder at the creature. He then turned back around and began his exit as if without a second thought.
	“Kill it.”
	Mar’kaa’s heart sank. She writhed within her binds, muffled screams the only sounds she could manage. She was left alone with the two humans from earlier, who looked at each other before starting to approach her. Fear began to consume her, not only the prospect of dying, but the fact that it would happen so abruptly for her. So far from her home and family.
	Things seemed to move in slow motion as she searched the room for any avenue of escape. Her computerized vision gave readouts and descriptors of various, arbitrary things around her, none of which was incredibly useful. She pulled at the tape around her wrists and flexed her bounded ankles, to no avail. She was trapped.
	“How do you want to do this?” one human asked the other. “Flip a coin?”
	It can’t end! Not like this!
	“No, fuck that,” the second alien responded. “I lost family to these things. Been waiting for a moment like this.”
	“Suit yourself.”
	Mar’kaa’s eyes widened as the human readied his weapon. She had never felt more helpless or vulnerable than at this moment. She started to offer prayers.
	Hivemother, please! I’m not ready! Give me a way out! I beg of you!
[HIGH PRESSURE STEAM VALVE LOCATED]
[CONTROLS ON STANDBY]
	The notifications sprang up as she laid her eyes on a small electronic module on the wall above her, near where her feet were situated. Data streamed across her line of sight as she seemed to access the system remotely, like she had with the video screen last night.
[INCREASE PRESSURE?]
	No time to ask questions. She focused in on the panel.
	The human pulled the lever back on his rifle, chambering a round.
	One shot, Mar’kaa.
[PRESSURE INCREASING]
	She felt the pipe she was tied to begin to rumble erratically. The human raised his weapon.
[PRESSURE AT DANGEROUS LEVELS]
	Please…
[PRESSURE OVERLOAD, SYSTEM BREACH]
	Mar’kaa squeezed her eyes shut as she heard a loud crack, preparing for whatever awaited her in death. Instead, she felt a powerful quake and intense heat as the pipe ruptured.
	“What the fu-“
	The humans barely had time to register what was happening as the overburdened steam pipe released its contents without mercy. A loose valve was launched from the cacophony with an earsplitting pop. The piece of metal hit the armed human square in the head, splitting his skull. He managed to pull back the trigger in a death grip, inadvertently angling his gun toward his partner as he fell backward. The resulting salvo tore holes in the second human’s chest. He cried out in an anguish and fell into a pile of boxes.
	Mar’kaa let out muffled screams as the chaos unfolded in front of her. The scalding vapor began to tear away at the tape around her ankles before the restraint came loose entirely, sending her to the floor.
	The yotje recovered herself as best as she could after hitting the ground head-first. She stared at the two aliens, now dead on the floor. Dead because of her. She knew she didn’t have any other choice—they were going to kill her, but she secretly wished it didn’t end this way. She began the feel sick.
	With her hands still bound she peeled the tape off from her mouth, and then bit at the adhesive around her wrists. She sprung to her feet, eager to leave before the rest of humans investigated the commotion. Grabbing her satchel, she ran to the sliding door and forced it open with all her strength, stepping out into the bracing cold.
	She looked around frantically, trying to debate her next move. Her antennae perked as she heard noises—gunfire and shouts from street level. No going down there, she decided.
	Mar’kaa observed the rooftop adjacent to the one she stood on; spaced only several feet away. She could escape that way! Just one good leap, and…
	Without thinking, she took a few steps back before beginning a spirited dash forward, pushing herself off the edge and flying against the piercing wind. Relief washed over her as she successfully grasped the edge on the other side, a sentiment which soon disappeared as the bricks came loose from the building’s ledge and her along with them. Gravity worked against her as she fell into the alley below.
	No, not again!

[TWO MINUTES EARLIER]

	The bandits ceased their physical and verbal torment of their newly arrived prisoners as their leader entered the room. “Old man Mercer’s boys,” Cutter acknowledged as he approached them.
	The crack of gunfire erupted from the room above, drawing everyone’s attention.
	“Don’t mind them. Just giving a xeno a proper Philly welcome,” Cutter paced in front of the two. “When’s your boss going to pay the fees he owes me?”
	“We have more important things to worry about than paying extortion money to the local wise guy.”
	Cutter sized up Gavin, smirking at his comment. Without warning, the scavenger was struck across the face. He fell back against the wall to the chorus of ‘oohs’ and sadistic laughter. Mike could only stand by a watch as he was held back by two other gunmen.
	“Here’s how this is going to work,” Cutter explained as he forced Gavin to stand, pinning him to the wall. “I want inside this bunker of yours. I know that your military buddies have been cowering in there after they failed to protect the city and left us all to die. What’s inside? Food? Weapons?”
	“You think they tell us anything?” Gavin chided. “We’re nothing but glorified janitors down there. They don’t let us in on their secrets.”
	“Sounds pretty important, then,” Cutter concluded. He tossed Gavin away from the wall into the grasp of another bandit. “You’re going to take us there. We’ll be keeping you as hostages, for negotiation with whoever’s in charge. If we’re unable to reach terms that I find satisfactory, then we’ll take their hole in the ground by force.”
	“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Gavin argued. “You’ll all be shot as soon as you knock on the door.”
	“We’ll see. Those weekend warriors couldn’t push the xenos back. How much of a threat can they be now, especially if they send out you two to do their dirty work?”
	“You’re making a mistake, Cutter, don’t do this,” Mike warned before one of the bandits silenced him with a forceful punch to the stomach.
	“Let’s move,” Cutter bellowed to his lackeys, walking out of the room. They marched behind him, eager for a fight. Two of the gunmen guarded their prisoners pulling them along with the entourage.
	A bracing wind hit the group as they stepped outside. Cutter turned to Luis. “Scout ahead, making sure the tunnels are clear. I don’t want any surprises.” Luis nodded, maneuvering his way in front of Cutter as he started toward the subway entrance. Then his head exploded.
	 The bandits reacted with shock as the pinpoint laser shot perforated the man’s cranium, sending a shower of red onto Cutter’s jacket as well as tiny pieces of half-melted skull.
	“Fuck! Cover, people!” Cutter ordered as he dove behind a sedan parked along the street. Two bandits crouched on either side of him while the others took strategic cover along the newspaper stands and mailboxes that lined the sidewalk. Gavin and Mike were pushed into a nearby alley and behind a dumpster. Their bandit captors aimed their weapons over top the waste receptacle, searching for their attacker.
	Cutter drew his pistol. “Anyone have eyes on?!”
	“Corner building, across the intersection!” the bandit next to him called out, slightly raising his head. “I think-"
	Another shot traced through the air, ripping through the front windshield and driver’s window of the car before finding its destination within the bandit’s left eye. The man fell and joined his already-dead comrade on the ground, their wounds reddening the snow.
	“I see it! Up there!” another bandit shouted, training his sights on the roof of the building across the four-way. The rest of the group did the same, sending a barrage of rounds towards a hulking form perched atop.
	Gavin peeked out from his cover and watched as the shooter rose from its now compromised position. It was vaguely human-shaped, but with nearly twice the shoulder span and taller by at least three feet. Whatever face it had was obscured by a hood, attached to a poncho-like covering that flowed down to its knees.
	The creature hefted an enormous rifle, effortlessly levelling it towards its prey as it strafed across the rooftop to avoid the incoming gunfire. The muzzle flashed orange when a third shot let fly, streaking across the road in half a second and striking the bandit closest to Gavin in the face, his dreadlocks flying wildly as his head came apart.
	“Fuck!” Gavin exclaimed. He forcefully pushed Mike down the alley. “Run!”
	“Run where?!”
	“Anywhere but here!” Gavin answered, giving him another shove. The two tore down the side street.
	“Fall back!” Cutter yelled as another of his men fell lifelessly to the ground, returning fire with his pistol as he ran backward into the relative safety of the alley. The monstrous alien slung its weapon and leapt from the four-story rooftop, its shawl flapping upward as it dropped to the street below, crouching as it landed and planting a palm on the ground to maintain balance.
	“Fuck, it’s getting closer!” one bandit shouted.
	“So? Fill that bastard full of lead!” another barked back, slamming in a fresh magazine.
	The alien was footbound in an instant and charged forward, moving swiftly despite its size. As it passed a vehicle parked sideways in the street, it reached out and ripped the passenger-side door clean off its hinges, positioning it in front of itself just as the bandits opened fire again. The heavy rounds punched into the metal as the xeno continued to close the distance.
	“Oh, fuck—!” one of the bandits screamed as the xeno came uncomfortably close. It brought its makeshift shield back into a windup before swinging it straight into the human’s upper body. A sickening chorus of crunched metal and splintering bone resounded as the bandit flew back against the wall in a bloodied mess.
	The second human panicked as the alien now turned to him, one eye flaring with a focused intensity through the darkness of its hood. He stepped back as he attempted to unjam his poorly-maintained rifle. His opponent produced a lengthy blade fashioned similarly to a machete from underneath its covering.
	The xeno swept the weapon upward as soon as it was unsheathed. The human’s forearms were separated from him, still gripping his weapon. The blade was brought back down before the human’s mind could register the pain, forcefully cleaving through the top of his shoulder and shattering his clavicle. His screaming was cut short as the giant twisted the blade lodged within, before withdrawing it and letting him fall.
	The xeno casually returned its blade to its place in its hidden arsenal, continuing down the alley in pursuit of the remaining humans.

[…]

	The two scavengers rounded a corner, emerging into a separate alleyway that emptied out into an adjacent street. Mike ran slightly ahead with Gavin tailing close behind, desperate to escape the chaos that raged behind them.
	“Don’t stop! Keep going!” Gavin called to his friend before something seemed to fall on top of him from above, knocking him down into a garbage pile.
	Gavin lifted his head from the months-old refuse, trying to process what had transpired. He looked down as he sensed another body lying next to his, only to find something completely unexpected.
	The bug weakly lifted itself from the trash pile. It didn’t have a weapon and seemed to be stripped of most of its armor, leaving it dressed in a black body suit. Its insectoid eyes shown a deep crimson as it looked up at him. Gavin watched cautiously as the creature’s lopsided antennae danced above its head.
	Wait a minute…
	The xeno’s eyes pulsed and it jumped in surprise as it realized what was in front of it. It crawled backward frantically before stumbling to its feet and taking off down a smaller corridor.
	Gavin hopped to his feet and sprinted after it. There was no mistaking it—it was that bug from last night, the one he could’ve sworn he had shot dead in that restaurant. He pursued it for who knows what reason.
	“Gav, wait!” he heard Mike call out to him as he tore off in a different direction. The xeno nimbly sprinted around and hopped overtop the obstacles in front of it. Gavin’s larger form struggled to keep up with agile creature as it darted away.
	The alien’s luck ran out as it hit a dead end. It seemed to panic as it scanned the tall brick wall for any sort of escape. As Gavin approached it quickly spun around, reaching into a bag slung to its shoulder and withdrawing a futuristic-looking weapon.
	Gavin froze as the small xeno aimed the submachine gun straight at him. His heart skipped and he braced himself to take a shot to the chest, but the alien didn’t fire. It held the gun in an amateurish fashion, its hands visibly shaking, like this was the first time it had ever pointed a gun at someone. Absent was the cold, emotionless stare that was characteristic of these alien invaders, but replaced with an expression of genuine fear. It attempted to back away, only to trip and almost lose its footing. Then it spoke.
	“Fle’tiy’yaa mag’ell’igg, hyu’min!” it managed to stutter out in a high-pitched, almost feminine voice. Gavin took a step back out of caution, but also from shock hearing one of these normally silent aliens speak.
	“Gav…” he heard Mike call out behind him. He turned around and saw him there, with Cutter standing behind him, pistol levelled at his partner’s head 
	“Goddammit, Mike…” Gain groaned.
	“You two are smart, I’ll give you that,” Cutter mused, soon being flanked by two of his bandits, their guns trained on the human and the alien further down the alley. “Luring the xenos here to get rid of me. Did the military put you up to it? Trying to remove thorns in their sides?”
	“Cutter-” Gavin started.
	“Well, I’m not going down that easily! Not if I offer up the both of you as cannon fodder while I make my escape,” He prodded the back of Mike’s head with his pistol “Now head back out there, don’t want to keep the xenos waiting.”
	As Cutter spoke, a small, metallic ball flew through the air and entered the space between the group. The object emitted a blinding flash as it impacted with the ground. The humans and the yotje recoiled as their vision became awash with white. Gavin stumbled and fell in his disoriented state, blinded but still able to hear the noises around him—assorted gunshots and screaming.
	He lost track of time as his sight slowly returned to him. He could make out a shape lumbering toward him. “Gav? Gav, you alright?” Mike’s voice asked him. Gavin’s eyes focused as his partner knelt over him, trying to pull him up.
	“Yeah,” he breathed, pushing himself off the ground. “What the hell happened?”
	“No idea. You hurt?”
	“Don’t think so.” The two began to observe their surroundings as they recovered from the mysterious ordeal. The alley was silent save for the howling winds that blew through it, with no sign of whatever had attacked them. Cutter’s men lay dead on the ground, bleeding from various stab wounds.
	Further above them was Cutter, or what was left of Cutter, hanging in the air upside down, ensnared by a thin cable around his ankle. Blood trickled onto the ground below from the butchered remains of his midsection, as well as a horizontal slash across his throat for good measure. His eyes were wide with shock, his last moments frozen in perpetuity.
	A moan took Gavin away from the macabre display. The bug xeno lay on the ground, still alive but completely dazed; the flash must have affected it more severely. 
	Gavin knelt down cautiously and turned its body over. Its eyes were blearily half-shut and it was babbling incoherently. It didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on around it.
	A shrill, robotic cry resounded from an unknown location, alerting the two humans. More xenos, probably drawn here by the firefight.
	“Shit,” Mike muttered. “We need to get out of here.”
	“Right behind you,” Gavin replied, still kneeling beside the xeno. Mike ran to the alley’s crossroad, peeking around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. Gavin looked down at the half-conscious alien for several moments, before snaking his arms underneath it, lifting the lightweight insect off the ground.
	“Nid’zii…” it muttered, apparently lost in a whole different world. Gavin moved to join Mike.
	“Looks like we’re going back empty-handed,” Mike lamented as he rounded the corner, assured that the way ahead was clear. “Lost our weapons, the meds, and no xeno tech to show for it. We’re screwed.”
	“Not quite.”
	“What do you mean?” Mike turned around, noticing Gavin cradling the alien in his arms.
	“We have something better.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #67: Criminal record of Simon Cutter, found among the effects of Captain Preston Nash (United States Navy), de facto commanding officer of the Philadelphia Remnant Forces

[MEMO ATTACHED] Sir, I did some digging in the nearby police station for any information on the criminal elements roaming the streets. While the xenos are obviously a bigger threat and thus our main priority, I believe that these individuals present a real danger to our current operations, as well as any civilians still trapped in the city. Your orders still stand, of course, but it is my opinion that because of our desperate situation, we cannot afford to be fighting on more than one front. Please advise. -Torres

NAME: Simon Maxwell Cutter
DATE OF BIRTH: 05/27/1998
SEX: M
RACE: White/Caucasian
ADDRESS: Unlisted
Profile: Career criminal with unparalleled leadership capabilities. Believed to be the ringleader of a sizeable outfit operating in several neighborhoods in South Philadelphia. 
Record:
2014: First appeared on the street at age 16, arrested for possession of heroin w/ intent to distribute. Would not give up supplier but was believed to be apprenticed to local kingpin Paul ‘Mackie’ McIlroy. 6-month sentencing to juvenile corrections.
2017: Arrested along with two accomplices for the failed robbery of an armored bank truck which resulted in the death of its driver. Multiple charges (armed robbery/first-degree murder/resisting arrest) lead to 15-year prison term.
2018: Murdered his cellmate (Jackson Clayborn Jr.) and placed in maximum security.
2020: Released from prison under unknown circumstances, believed one of several individuals bailed out by McIlroy. Investigations stonewalled.
2021: Is seen several times with McIlroy in public by police surveillance.
2022: Fentanyl X epidemic results in multiple overdoses across the metropolitan area. McIlroy & associates are questioned and released not long after. Cutter becomes a person of interest in the case.
2024: McIlroy disappears without a trace. Possible power struggle within ranks.
2025: Investigation into Cutter’s activities begins with the unsolved murder of his longstanding rival Patrick 'The Fitz' Fitzsimmons.
2027: Evidence provided by low-level dealer (Luther Howe) through plea bargain implicates Cutter in distribution of fentanyl within the city. Cutter arrested on drug trafficking charges.
2028: Lead investigator in case (John O’Harris) murdered outside of his home. Key witness Howe fatally stabbed while in prison and evidence mysteriously disappears. Cutter is released and charges are subsequently dropped.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 6: Persona Non Grata

	“The captain’s not gonna like this.”
	“I know,” Gavin sighed as they made their way down the ramp that lead to the reinforced blast door. He still carried the tiny alien in his arms, now wrapped in a white sheet, almost like a mummy, as to make it less conspicuous. The xeno was incredibly lightweight—no more than forty pounds, Gavin estimated. It was still dazed from their previous encounter; slight movements and confused mumblings in its alien language were the only indication that the creature was still alive.
	Today’s events certainly left them with a lot of questions. They were slightly relieved that Cutter was no longer in the picture, which meant that their underground hideout was safe for the time being, but their real concern was whatever attacked them. The xeno slaughtered Cutter and his men with little difficulty. What would happen if thatl killing machine was unleashed on the bunker?
	But this alien seemed different than the others, somehow. The invaders that were roaming the city’s streets operated in groups. This one was acting on its own, and its actions had a brutal spectacle to them, as opposed to the other xenos who were way more systematic. And why did it spare them when it had no issue slaughtering their bandit captors to the last man?
	The two stood at the door as they waited for the bunker’s occupants to let them in. Gavin felt the sights of the external cameras train on him and whatever was bundled in his arms, making him anxious. Mike was right—Nash wasn’t going to like this, but then again, the captain didn’t like him already. It wasn’t like things between them could get much worse.
	Bringing the xeno back with him was more of a split-second decision than anything else. An actual, live prisoner could probably tell them more about what was going on than any piece of technology ever could. But would it cooperate? Could they even communicate with it?
	Maybe he didn’t think this all the way through, but he had questions of his own. This thing should be dead. He shot it, or at least he was pretty sure he did. Then he finds it cowering in an alleyway like a scared child, despite the fact that it had tried to kill him without a second thought not even twenty-four hours ago.
	He tried to banish any doubts as the door’s mechanisms groaned to life and the steel barrier began to part itself before them. No turning back now.
	“Incoming raccoons, scav mission.”
	“Roger, logged!”
	Gavin and Mike were met with the usual detachment of soldiers guarding the entryway and navy personnel manning the computer stations. Nash was there as well, speaking with a subordinate before bringing his attention to the scavengers as they entered. All eyes were on Gavin as he walked in with what must have looked like a child’s body wrapped in a sheet. He could hear them whisper to each other as he approached the captain, who no doubt had questions.
	“I’ve been hearing reports of missing medical supplies all morning,” the captain reported immediately, “and after some investigation, I shouldn’t be surprised that it traced back to the both of you. I want an explanation.”
	“I don’t think you’re going to like our answer,” Gavin warned.
	“Brooks, if you were under my command under normal circumstances, you would have been discharged long ago. You may not officially be part of the military, but I am commanding officer of this outfit, and you are under contract to report to me. Now, I want to know what happened to my supplies.”
	“Uh, captain, sir,” Mike stepped in, attempting to be respectful as possible. “This is on me. I set up a deal with some bandits to trade for some alien technology. Long story short: it didn’t go too well.”
	Nash looked as impatient as ever. He pointed to the bundled mystery in Gavin’s arms. “What’s this, then?”
	“Let’s call it a consolation prize,” Gavin answered in his usual smarminess. Nash gave him an unamused look before pulling the top of the sheet back.
	The officer was met with large eyes that glowed red in the relative darkness. They flapped open and shut rapidly as it took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It stared at Nash for a moment, then looked up at the human carrying it.
	“Gen’ahh’loh…mii’daa…?”  it muttered, sounding confused. Its boggish antennae twitched.
	“Guards,” Nash bellowed, and a few of the soldiers approached. “Arrest them both.”
	The guards did as he ordered, forcefully pushing the two against the nearby wall. Gavin was forced to drop the alien as a guard pulled his arm behind his back to restrain him. It fell to floor in a high-pitched grunt, rolling out of sheet that covered it,
	“What the fuck?” one of the guardsmen exclaimed, seeing the alien its entirety. He pointed his weapon at creature which lay weakly on the floor, clearly afraid.
	“Whoa, hey! Take it easy!” Gavin yelled, noticing the interaction behind him. “It’s unarmed.” His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the guardsman forced the helpless alien lower onto the floor, the barrel of his weapon trained on its head. Handcuffs were brought out and the two civilians were properly restrained.
	“Put him in interrogation,” Nash ordered, pointing at Gavin. “I’ll be dealing with him shortly.” Gavin glanced at the xeno as he was marched away, who stared back at him almost pleadingly from its prone position on the floor. Nash continued to give orders to the soldiers in the corridor. “Fetch Kowalczyk, we have a security breach. I want that door shut, pronto!” A contingent of guards now stood over the alien, all with rifles drawn.
	“Orders, sir?” one of them asked his lieutenant. He lay his finger softly on the trigger.
	“Hold your fire, private.”
	“…Sir?”
	“We don’t shoot unarmed prisoners, son. Cuff and detain it. That’s an order.
	The disappointment was apparent on the young guardsman’s face. “Yes, sir.”

[…]

	Gavin sat at the table in the center of the darkened room. His handcuffs rattled around the table’s leg as he shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. A lone guardsman stood by the door, watching his every move.
	This room in particular didn’t see much use by the bunker’s current inhabitants. Cardboard boxes full of papers lined the far wall and a single dim light fixture hung from above. Only Doctor Travers made use of this space, conducting psychological assessments every week in order to keep track of everyone’s mental health. God, he hated those.
	Nash entered the room after nearly ten minutes of waiting. “Leave us,” he said calmly to the soldier standing watch. Only after he shut the door behind him did the captain remove his ordered façade and unleash his fury. “What the hell were you thinking, Brooks?”
	“Captain, listen—”
	“Enough,” the officer interrupted. “I have everyone scrambling to make sure our location wasn’t compromised because of your screw-up,” Nash placed his hands on the table, leaning on it across from Gavin. “Were you followed?”
	“I don’t think so.”
	“You don’t THINK so?”
	“How am I supposed to know? The city’s crawling with freaks, in case you haven’t noticed.”
	“I don’t think you fully understand the situation we’re in.” The captain sat down. “We are at war, civilian. Our enemies are more numerous and better equipped than we are. One misstep could mean the end of us. I send you and your crew out into the city because it’s necessary, and because I thought that you would be subtle about things, but it seems that I was mistaken.” Nash sat still as a statue as he delivered his lecture, maintaining his stoic, yet firm demeanor throughout, which Gavin found a bit unnerving. “That thing could be broadcasting its location to that ship for all we know. What did you hope to gain by bringing it here?”
	Gavin was silent for a few moments, choosing his next words carefully. Would he believe any of this? “It spoke to me.”
	Nash seemed unfazed by this revelation. “What did it say?”
	“I don’t know, it was speaking gibberish, but,” Gavin set his free arm on the table as he continued. “I cornered this one in an alley, and…it looked scared. We’ve killed a bunch of these things, but we’ve never actually talked to one.”
	“What makes you so sure we can?” Nash asked. “Does it know our language?”
	“I’m not sure. I didn’t think that far ahead,” Gavin admitted ashamedly.
	“Yes, clearly.” Nash noted derisively. He stood up and made his way to the door. “I’m going to see if your theories are correct, Brooks, but don’t think this means you’re off the hook just yet.”
	Nash left the room and strode a few steps down the hallway to a similar room, where he was told the prisoner was being held. He entered, seeing the small creature planted in a chair behind a table. It was flanked by two guardsmen; double security, as he had ordered. He granted them their leave.
	The officer stared at the creature for several seconds in the darkened room. Its head was dipped low, either it was afraid or ashamed that it was taken prisoner. Its wrists were bound with a plastic zip-tie, human handcuffs apparently being too large to fit properly.
	This wasn’t the first time Nash had dealt with prisoners of war. He quickly recalled his training in the matter: treat the prisoner humanely in all regards, but assert your authority—demand respect that you would never give yourself.
	Nash slowly strode across the room and settled himself in the chair across the table, folding his hands in front of him. He sat up straight and wore a neutral, yet intimidating expression, letting the xeno know that he was the dominant party in this situation. The alien’s uneven antennae bobbed as it looked slightly upward, noticing him sit down. The eye contact was broken fairly quickly.
	“Can you understand me?”
	The insect looked at him again in response to his question, its large, glowing eyes blinking a few times, but it didn’t answer.
	“My name is Captain Nash of the United States Navy. I am in command of this place as well as the men and women in uniform here. As you’ve probably already realized, we have taken you as a prisoner of war. However, even as a captive, you are subject to certain protections as outlined by our current conventions of warfare. You will not be tortured, nor will you suffer unnecessarily. But as an enemy combatant, you will be expected to show respect to me as well as those under my command, in exchange for the mercies we have granted you. Do you understand these terms?”
	The alien remained silent, looking down at the surface of the table. Nash wondered if his words were indeed wasted due to a language barrier. He had never seen any of the xenos in person. According to reports made by his men, these cricket-looking aliens made up a bulk of their ground forces, usually being led by different, much larger creatures. The alien in front of him was probably nothing more than a common foot soldier. He doubted they would get very useful intelligence from it, even if they did establish a way to communicate. Nash spoke again, not having any other options.
	“It is my understanding that your rank is low on whatever hierarchy has been established, and that you probably don’t know much aside from what you are told, and that you are most likely here because you were just following orders. I want to know who commands you. What is your mission objective?”
	More silence. Nash began to think he was wasting his time, he prepared to stand when the xeno suddenly moved. It brought its bound hands on top of the table, reaching for a loose piece of paper that lay on top of it. It slid the stationary in front of it, then looked at him expectantly.
	Nash regarded the xeno before finally figuring out what it wanted. With caution, he removed a ballpoint pen from his breast pocket, sliding it slowly across the table. The captain was apprehensive about give the alien something that it could easily use as a weapon. He reached under the table, unclasping his holster and placing a steady grip on his pistol, ready to shoot if the bug tried anything.
	The xeno gripped the pen and paper with both of its tied hands rather awkwardly and began sketching lines and circles upon the parchment. Nash watched it curiously, interested to see where it was going with this.
	After a few minutes of fumbling, the alien finished, setting down the pen and sliding the paper to him. Nash took it and examined what was now scrawled upon it. It was a drawing, a rather sloppy one, at that, of two figures. On the left was a crude approximation of the xeno itself. Vocal lines were drawn emitting from its mouth, toward the second figure, a human.
	Nash took a closer look. The drawn human was fairly skinny, with longer hair and a thin beard. There was only one human he knew that fit this description.
	He silently stood and walked out of the room, down the hallway and into the other impromptu interrogation room. Gavin lifted his head as Nash entered again. The captain held the piece of paper out in front of him.
	“I believe it wants to speak with you.”

[…]

	Gavin was relieved of his handcuffs and escorted down the hall. His gray eyes met red, glowing ones as he stepped into the room. The alien had recovered its faculties since he had brought it in, and seemed to calm itself upon seeing a familiar face. The human crossed the room and sat himself down.
	White noise droned through the room as the two beings regarded each other in awkward silence. This was the closest Gavin had ever been to a xeno without it trying to kill him. He took his time examining the strange, insect-like creature.
	Its smaller frame was dwarfed by the human-sized table and chair, so much that only its head and shoulders were visible from where Gavin was sitting. A dark purple, sturdy-looking exoskeleton covered the entirety of its head, contrasted with its huge, saucer-like eyes that glowed a brilliant red. They were strangely mesmerizing, the luminosity only briefly interrupted by the slow flapping of eyelids. The orbs had an intricate mosaic pattern similar to the close-up pictures Gavin had seen of Earth bugs, with light bouncing of the individual lenses when the alien moved its head slightly.
	Atop its head were a pair of antennae, thin-stranded and ending in tiny, elliptical nodes. Gavin had noticed earlier that its antennae were completely uneven, a feature that made this xeno stand out from the rest of its kind. Unlike the right antenna, which stood up straight with a forward curve at the top, the left antenna was significantly shorter and drooped off to the side.
	Gavin brought his attention to the zip-tie binding the alien’s wrists together. He retrieved his pocket knife, the soldiers having forgotten to search him in all the commotion. The alien flinched as the blade unfolded from its handle, but relaxed as the human placed the serrated edge between her restraint and pulled, snapping through the plastic with little difficulty.
	“Zuu’lii’tii,” the alien said softly in its own language. Was that a ‘thank you’? Maybe. It rubbed its wrist with its small, three-fingered hand. The silence continued for the next few moments. The xeno’s expression softened, indicating something that Gavin couldn’t quite grasp.
	The xeno seemed to look past him. He turned around and saw nothing. It shifted to its left further along its chair, seemingly looking at the side of the human’s head. Gavin raised his eyebrow in confusion.
	All of a sudden, a faint buzzing resounded in his right ear, which grew louder and more severe. He reflexively cocked his head and brought his hand up as the buzzing gave way to a shrill, continuous ring. His fingers felt around for the affliction, finding the small radio earpiece embedded in his ear canal. He had forgotten he was still wearing it.
	“Are you alright?” a voice echoed from the small device.
	Gavin pivoted his head around the room, searching for source of the voice, but only seeing the alien in front of him. The xeno leaned forward, opening its mouth.
	“Can you hear me?” it asked, in perfect English. Its voice had a melodic, girlish tone to it, which threw Gavin for a loop when he had first heard it. It was equally jarring now.
	“What…how…?” he stuttered at everything he was taking in. He felt at the earpiece. “How did you do that?”
	“I…” the alien started. Gavin’s earpiece vibrated and crackled as the speech reverberated through it. “…It’s hard to explain. It’s just something that I do now.”
	Gavin relaxed a little, now that everything has sunk in. They could talk to each other now. It was certainly a start. He was about to ask another question, but the xeno beat him to the punch.
	“Where are we?”
	“A safe place,” he answered. “I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you.”
	“That captain said that I was a prisoner.”
	Gavin rolled his shoulders. “Well, yeah. We are fighting each other.”
	“I see…” the xeno muttered, looking lost in thought, like this was all new information. “Listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble…” it pleaded, its vocal inflections taking on a higher tone. It certainly sounded female, Gavin thought to himself. Was it? It seemed rude to ask.
	“Don’t worry,” he reassured it/her. “all they want is information. I don’t think they really want to hurt you.”
	The xeno appeared to understand, but Gavin could tell that something still troubled her. The bug looked back up at him. “Why did you help me?”
	“What do you mean?”
	“Back there, in the alley,” she clarified. “You could have just left me there, but you didn’t. Why?”
	“Would you have preferred that I did?” the human countered.
	“No, it’s not that,” she said, “it’s just…you don’t even know me, human.”
	“Gavin.”
	“What?”
	“My name,” the human said. “It’s Gavin.”
	”I’m Mar’kaa,” the xeno responded. “but…why would you risk yourself to save me? Someone you don’t even know?”
	”I just had a hunch, that’s all.”
	“A what?”
	“Uh, nevermind. I thought that maybe you’d be able to tell us what was going on.”
	“Me?” Mar’kaa asked, clearly puzzled. “I just woke up here. I have no idea what’s going on.”
	“You don’t?”
	“No!” she exclaimed. Gavin was taken aback at her sudden raised voice. “I was at home, with my family, and then this ship came—"
	“A ship?” Gavin interrupted. “Like the one outside?”
	“…Yes? Yes! And then, and then…” Mar’kaa continued, struggling to recall everything. “A flash. I’m knocked out, and next thing I know, I’m freezing and there are dead yotje all around me. I’ve been all alone ever since and I don’t know where my family is. And there’s some kind of computer in my head, and I don’t know how it got there, and it lets me access electronic systems, and—”
	“Whoa, slow down,” Gavin stopped her, holding a hand up. The sudden tidal wave of information was becoming just as overbearing for him as it probably was for her. “So, you don’t remember landing here? What about a firefight you had with two humans?”
	Mar’kaa’s eyes widened and her antennae perked. “What?”
	“Last night, my friend and I ran into you and a bunch of your people. You shot at us and we shot back. I…I shot you. But you survived somehow, and then we—"
	Mar’kaa threw hands up. “STOP,” she yelled, looking at him like he was crazy. She looked down at the table’s surface as she attempted to process this new information along with everything else on her plate. She let her head fall, cradling it in her hands and thudding it against the edge of the table. “What is happening?” she asked, desperate for any rational answer. “What is happening?”
	Gavin was silent, feeling somewhat guilty making things even more confusing for her. The xeno was lost enough, and here he was making things worse.
	“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
	Mar’kaa lifted her head back up, trying to collect herself. “I don’t know what to do…” she admitted. “I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home.”
	“Well, I’m not sure I can help you with that,” Gavin said. “But you’re probably better off in here than out there.”
	The yotje felt the slightest bit of relief wash through her, knowing she wouldn’t have to face that unnatural weather outside. “Thank you, but I don’t know if I can be of any help. I have no useful information to give you.”
	“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Gavin assured her. He thought for a moment. “You said you had a…computer in your head?”
	“…Yes, um…” Mar’kaa paused, trying to find the best way to describe it. “It’s connected to some kind of network. It answers questions when I ask them. It has a bunch of information on this planet, on you humans.”
	“Can you access it again?”
	“I think so.”
	“Okay, keep digging through it, see what you find out. I’ll see what I can do for you on my end.”
	“Alright, I’ll try,” Mar’kaa replied, sounding a bit more confident.
	Gavin nodded. He shuffled in his chair in preparation to stand.
	“W-wait…” the xeno called out, suddenly reaching over and placing her hand on top of his.
	Gavin froze at the spontaneous physical contact. The alien’s palm felt incredibly soft through the glove of its full-body suit, almost like human skin—nothing like the sturdy-looking shell that covered its head. His gaze went from their connected hands lay to her face. The alien’s buggish eyes blinked more rapidly and its antennae darted every which way. 
	“I…thank you…um…” she paused. “your name…?”
	“Gavin,” he reminded her.
	“Gavin,” she repeated, her hand still on his. “yes, well, uh…thank you…” The awkwardness persisted for a few more seconds as the alien kept her eyes on his. Gavin felt a subtle, vibrating sensation emit from the alien’s hand.
Eventually she looked down and quickly pulled her hand away, allowing him to finally stand up. For some reason, the usually stale air of the bunker smelled sweeter.
	He turned around and exited, alien eyes watching him the whole way. Gavin stretched his limbs and straightened out his clothes as he stepped out into the hallway.
	“How long are you going to keep my guys locked up, captain? I need them to keep this place running.”
	Gavin turned and saw Frank speaking with Nash further down the hallway. Alex was there too, along with Nash’s second -in-command, another navy guy—petty officer-something—his named escaped Gavin at the moment.
	“Protocol dictates they are to be detained until the security breach—which they caused—has been resolved. You’ll survive, Mister Mercer.”
	At this point, Gavin was gently led up against the wall by the guardsman assigned to watch him, preparing to cuff him again.
	“Gav,” Frank called, noticing his presence and run-walking down the hall toward him. “Are you alright?”
	“I’m fine,” he answered, turning his head while still being pinned to the wall. “Can you have your guys stop manhandling me, Nash?”
	“First things first,” the captain started as he approached. “What did you learn?”
	The guardsman allowed Gavin a little leeway to turn around and face him. “I can talk to it,” he said, completely casually.
	“What?” The petty officer questioned, adjusting his thick spectacles in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
	“Oh, I’m fluent in several alien languages, including Bug,” Gavin joked. “I’ve memorized about ten, it’s one of my favorite hobbies.”
	“Enough jokes, Brooks,” Nash chastised. “this is serious.”
	Gavin reached into his ear a plucked out the earplug-shaped radio. “I can understand what she’s saying through this. She hacked into it, or something.”
	The petty officer withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket, covering his thumb and forefinger and taking the earpiece from Gavin. He examined it closely, turning it in his grip. “Amazing. How did it manage that?”
	“I’m not sure she even knows.”
	“How do you know it’s a ‘she’?” Frank asked him, hands on his hips.
	“Well, it sounded like one. I don’t know for sure.”
	Nash pushed himself into the conversation. “Focus, people. What is their purpose here? How many do they number?”
	“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Gavin explained. “She doesn’t remember even coming here.”
	“Excuse me?”
	“That’s what she said.” Gavin insisted.
	“Captain, I’m in favor of this course of action,” Kowalczyk advised him. “We need to take enemy intelligence where we can get it at this point.” He wiped the earpiece clean before inserting it into his own ear. “Let me question it, for my intellectual curiosity, if nothing else.”
	Nash was still skeptical. “We don’t know anything about it, Kowalczyk.”
	“Acknowledged, sir, but I can fix that.”
	“There are too many unknowns here,” Nash continued, “It may be cooperating at this moment, but we can’t be sure of its true motives or convictions. It says it doesn’t remember anything—how do we know it’s telling the truth?”
	“Captain, sir.” A female National Guard officer approached from the hallway leading to the entrance. “The patrols report no movement from the northern perimeter.”
	“What about incoming or outgoing signals?”
	“None that we can detect with our equipment, sir.”
	Nash took a deep, steady breath. “Alright. Pull the patrols back and tell the perimeter guard to remain on high alert.”
	“Copy that.” The officer turned back the way she came a shouted down the corridor. “We are back at code yellow, repeat, code yellow.”
	“See? You worry too much,” Gavin commented.
	“I don’t want to hear it, Brooks,” Nash snapped at him. “Your recklessness could have just as easily cost us everything.” He motioned to the guardsman, who let released his hold on Gavin and stepped aside. “You’re free to go for now, but consider yourself on very thin ice.” The captain turned to Kowalczyk. “Find out everything you can, and tell Travers to conduct an examination on it first thing in the morning. I want a full medical dossier on this thing: biology, mental functions, blood and stool samples, everything.” The petty officer nodded and excitedly hurried to the room where the xeno was being held.
	“Look, just go easy on her, okay?” Gavin suggested to them. “She’s been through a lot.”
	“This is a military matter now, Brooks,” Nash said. “Despite what you claim, this is still an enemy soldier and will be treated as such.” Gavin caught a glimpse of the cricket as Kowalczyk opened the door. She looked up in surprise at the stranger approaching her before noticing Gavin through the doorframe. She shot a look of concern to him, leaning in her chair to keep eye contact before it was finally broken by the door closing between them.
	Nash gracefully spun on his heel and strode toward his office. Frank turned to his protégé. “No more stunts, Gav,” the old man said to him with a large degree of worry. “We’re allowed to stay here because of the captain’s good graces, but the man only has so much patience. You get me?”
	“Yeah,” Gavin sighed. 
	“Good,” Frank patter him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you downstairs.” He passed him, making his way toward the stairs that led to their basement workshop. Gavin turned around to follow him, only to lock eyes with Alex, who stood against the wall, arms crossed. She stared at him with the same unamused look she always gave him.
	He held his palms out at his sides innocently. “What?”
	“You know, I always thought you were a bit special, Gav, from a mental standpoint, I mean, but what in God’s name possessed you to bring one of those things here?”
	“Call it a—”
	“A hunch, yeah, I know. You always have one of those.”
	“Yeah, and they’re usually correct.”
	Alex sighed. “What happened just bringing some of their tech back?”
	“Didn’t work out. Bandits had other plans.”
	“Why am I not surprised? And Cutter?”
	“Dead,” he said simply. “Xenos got him.”
	“Just desserts, I say,” Alex commented, with no sympathy. “Better we let both those scum finish each other off. Thin the herd.”
	“There’s something else,” Gavin added. “You remember the xenos we ran into last night?”
	“How could I forget?”
	“The one in there?” he pointed to the interrogation room. “She was one of them.”
	Alex looked silently at the door, behind which Kowalczyk was no doubt subjecting the bug to 20 Questions. “How do you know?” She looked back at him knowingly. “Hunch?”
	Gavin nodded.
	“How did it survive, then?”
	“No idea,” Gavin admitted. “Could’ve sworn I shot it.”
	“Well, you are a lousy shot, Gav,” Alex chided. “So that thing tried to kill me, tried to kill us, and the best idea you had was to bring it back with you?”
	“Apparently, she has no memory of it.”
	“How convenient.”
	“I’m serious,” Gavin argued. “I found her in an alleyway, scared to death. She doesn’t know any more about what’s happening than we do.”
	“And you believe all this?” Alex asked.
	“There’s more to all of this, I can feel it,” Gavin said to her. “you just have to trust me on this.”
	Alex let out a defeated sigh. She had no other choice but to go along with this madness. She turned around without saying a word, starting back toward the workshop.
	Gavin followed alongside her. “Have I ever let you down, Alex?”
	“Don’t make me answer that.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #113: Transcript of Interrogation of Michael Rossi, Philadelphia Remnant Forces civilian contractor. Interview conducted by Petty Officer Rodney Kowalczyk, (United States Navy), (timestamp: January 11, 2030, 19:32)

KOWALCZYK: Alright, state your name for the record.
ROSSI: Uh… [chair scooting] Mike Rossi.
KOWALCZYK: You don’t need to get so close to the recorder.
ROSSI: Oh, sorry. [shuffling]
KOWALCZYK: Mister Rossi-
ROSSI: Mike’s fine.
KOWALCZYK: …Mister Rossi, you’ve been contracted to perform maintenance work on this facility.
ROSSI: Right.
KOWALCZYK: And you work for Mister Mercer?
ROSSI: Yeah, I’ve known Frank for about four years. Gavin too. We represent a full-service maintenance company. We do HVAC, plumbing, appliance repair…we’ve even started to expand out to-
KOWALCZYK: Alright, I get it. Do you understand why we’re speaking right now, Mister Rossi?
ROSSI: Because of the xeno we brought back, I guess.
KOWALCZYK: That’s correct. Would you care to explain what exactly happened?
ROSSI: Well…we had a plan to trade with Cutter’s guys for some xeno tech to study.
KOWALCZYK: You thought you were going to get advanced alien technology from a bunch of criminals?
ROSSI: I never said it was a good plan.
KOWALCZYK: And you managed to lose valuable medical supplies, ones you weren’t authorized to take, mind you, as well as two military grade rifles that we provided to you.
ROSSI: Look, we had a lot going on out there, okay? Cutter was sitting on a stockpile of supplies in his safehouse. We can go back there and retrieve them, assuming the xenos aren’t still prowling around.
KOWALCZYK: Never mind. What about the alien?
ROSSI: Oh, that was Gavin’s idea. We figured we couldn’t come back here with nothing. Isn’t that what the military does? Take prisoners?
KOWALCZYK: This is different. We don’t know our enemy’s intentions, or if they even speak our language. Besides, this facility is supposed to be top secret. We have security protocols put in place. You’ve been briefed on this when you came here.
ROSSI: Is Gav gonna get kicked out for this?
KOWALCZYK: That’s the captain’s call, not mine.
ROSSI: Listen, he doesn’t do anything without good reason. He thinks we can get something out of this. He has a sixth sense for these sorts of things It’s uncanny, really.
KOWALCZYK: This is a delicate situation, Mr. Rossi, we can’t operate on gut feelings alone. Our entire operation’s been put at risk, and- 
ROSSI: This is about whatever’s behind that door, right? I see you going in and out all the time.
KOWALCZYK: That’s none of your concern.
ROSSI: We’ve got people frozen down here, don’t we?
KOWALCZYK: Excuse me?
ROSSI: You know, cryogenic facilities. I read those leaked documents from last year. The government, the financial elite, they have places like this all over the world. They come down here, put themselves on ice, then once this is all over, out they come, ready to take control again!
KOWALCZYK: [long pause] I think we’re done for now, Mister Rossi. [chair scooting]
ROSSI: [handcuffs rattling] So, you gonna take these off or what?
KOWALCZYK: Not yet. We’re still on code red.
ROSSI: Can I take a leak, at least?
KOWALCZYK: No.
ROSSI: Ah, shit…
[end recording]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 7: Symbiosis

	Travers reluctantly forced down the god-awful concoction that the military liked to call ‘instant coffee’, the caffeine slowly but surely working its way through her system to give her enough energy to survive the morning, before gathering her things and leaving the conference room-turned-barracks to see to the task assigned to her the night before.
	Word travelled quickly through the bunker as to the cause of last night’s lockdown; that Gavin managed to bring back a live xeno and caused all manner of uproar in the process. She had never seen one of the aliens before, only hearing vague descriptions of them from the scouts returning from their short-lived recon trips. Travers steeled herself to face whatever monstrosity now occupied her clinic.
	The doctor straightened out her navy fatigues and doctor’s coat as she travelled down the hallway. She looked down at the small earpiece in the palm of her hand. Kowalczyk had given it to her when he briefed her, saying that she would need it to communicate if that was necessary.
	She was on edge, trying her best not to show it outwardly. The xenos were responsible for so much chaos and destruction; God only knows how many humans were dead now. Regardless of the circumstances, she committed herself to her current task, not only because she was ordered to, but because of her obligation as a medical professional to treat allies and enemies alike.
	Travers opened the clinic’s door, stopping as she found herself within feet of a cricket that was very large for cricket standards. It sat in one of the chairs, it’s small, two-toed feet dangling of the ground, with a solitary guardsman keeping watch over it closely.
	The bug-like creature lifted its head at her entrance. Despite its extra-terrestrial appearance, the cricket had a very expressive face, one that suggested unease, sadness, and lethargy all at the same time, if Travers was reading it correctly. It looked nothing like those cold, calculating alien invaders from the bad sci-fi movies, but more like a lost and confused child.
	Travers’ heart panged, thoughts of her son flashing through her mind. The alien seemed no bigger than Sam was when he was four or five. He was much older now. She hadn’t heard from him or his father since this whole thing started. She had no way of contacting them, not with the xenos jamming communications.
	She pushed the distractions to the back of her mind, focusing on the task at hand. She turned to the soldier on guard. “Could you leave us be, please?”
	“The captain said that I—”
	“The patient has the right to some privacy,” she stated confidently, holding the door open for him to exit. “Now, please.”
	The guard took one last apprehensive look at the prisoner before taking his leave, Travers shutting the door behind him. She turned back to the xeno, who still stared at her anxiously.
	Travers inserted the earpiece. Her personal feelings were irrelevant. The fact of the matter was that they were still two actors on opposite sides of a conflict. She allowed the alien the same treatment as any human patient of hers, but she needed to act professionally and not let any biases get in the way.
	“Hello,” the doctor said, nodding curtly. “I’ve been ordered to examine and treat you, as a doctor to a patient. Do you understand?”
	“Yes…” the alien replied, the simple word automatically translating and coming through the earpiece. Travers was taken by surprise when she heard the feminine tone of the alien’s voice.
	Travers pulled up a chair in front of the alien, but found herself stymied once she took a seat, unsure of where to start. Captain Nash had ordered a full medical report, but in reality, that was easier said than done. She was trained to treat humans exclusively. Travers tried to recall what she had learned about insect biology in high school, but reminded herself that this was an alien she was dealing with; she doubted any knowledge on Earth bugs would be applicable here.
	On a whim, Travers slowly reached for the xeno’s suited arm, who offered little in the way of protest. The doctor felt a soft, skin-like texture along the base of its forearm. Holding her fingers to the wrist, she found the familiar, rhythmic throbbing. A pulse! A bit faster than a human one and she had no reference point for comparison, but it was a start.
	“Do you have a name?” Travers asked it, arranging a standard patient chart on her clipboard.
	“Mar’kaa,” it answered.
	“How old are you?”
	Mar’kaa was about to answer, but her response caught in her throat. She had turned twenty a few weeks before that ship came to her homeworld, but how much time had passed since then? She caught her faint reflection in a nearby glass medical cabinet. It looked as if a stranger stared back at her.
	“Twenty,” she finally answered. Travers jotted it down in the appropriate place on the chart.
	The doctor’s superficial examination continued for a few more minutes, accompanied by questions that any doctor would ask. “I’ll need you to undress,” the human suddenly said.
	Mar’kaa’s antennae perked at the request, but she nonetheless did as she was asked, not wanting to cause any trouble. She felt along the surface of the black fabric that covered her entire body. The suit separated as she pulled along the front. She wore nothing underneath.
	With visible discomfort, Mar’kaa began to shed her only layer of clothing, shrugging it from her shoulders and peeling her arms out. The cold, still air touched her exposed form, causing her to shiver. The upper half of the suit was now piled around the circumference of her waistline. She hesitantly made a move to pull it down further when the doctor stopped her.
	“That’s enough, I think,” Travers observed the alien as it seemed to shrink into itself, obviously ashamed of its nudity. Its arms crossed in front of it, unsuccessfully covering its lower torso, where its dark purple exoskeleton ended at the midsection and segued into a much softer and lighter-colored belly.
	Travers made notes and approximations on the alien’s exterior biology, making educated guesses where she needed to. She would need a fully-equipped lab in order to make a comprehensive medical report. She could only cover the basics with what she had; it would have to do for now.
	Mar’kaa kept her head down as the human doctor studied her like some sort of scientific specimen. Eventually, gloved hands entered the equation, feeling at her exoskeleton in several places along her back and sides. She panicked internally as the alien digits reached around and prodded at her sensitive belly. She squeezed her eyes shut and her antennae curled, pretending to be anywhere else as the doctor inspected her underskin.
	The human had no way of knowing, of course, that the bellies of yotje females were an extremely erogenous area, the touching of which was only reserved for the most intimate of moments, between lifemates, but she felt too embarrassed to convey this information. Mar’kaa understood that the doctor was only doing her job, but she felt violated nonetheless. The hands finally moved away and relief washed over her.
	“Alright, I think we’re done here,” Travers said, picking her clipboard back up and writing down a few final notations. Overall, the alien had no injuries or other ailments that she could detect, aside from a tired disposition that was most likely brought about by stress. “You can get dressed now,” she told it. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
	“Th-thank you,” Mar’kaa said quietly as she pulled the body suit back over herself and closing it at the front. She slid from the chair and the doctor guided her out the door where her guard was waiting.
	Every single head in the corridor turned to the yotje as she emerged from the clinic. Mar’kaa looked at the humans curiously as they stood around or walked past, amazed at how different they all looked. Each one seemed to have a different color of skin or type of hair, making each one unique in spite of the generic sameness of the uniforms they wore.
	A pair of humans conversing near the wall noticed her staring and shot contemptuous leers back at her, forcing her to look away. The doctor stood behind her, exchanging a few words with the soldier guarding her before handing him the earpiece. The soldier then nudged Mar’kaa’s shoulder with the barrel of his rifle, indicating the direction he wanted her to walk.
	Mar’kaa started down the hallway towards her unknown destination. As she turned a corner, she spotted a familiar human knelt next to an air duct built into the far wall. Gavin had his backed turned to her, shining a handheld light into the opened shaft. She stopped walking much to the annoyance of her guard, who pushed her forward, a bit more forcefully this time. She stumbled a little but didn’t budge, too eager to speak with the only human she really ‘knew’.
	“Gah’vin?”
	Gavin turned his head from what he was doing upon hearing her voice, looking at her and blinking a few times. “Oh-! Um…” he replied in surprise. He stood, achieving his full human height and turned his body to face her. “Hi, uh…” he trailed off, struggling to recall her name.
	“Mar’kaa,” she reminded him, a little too excitedly than she meant to. He nodded and flashed a nervous half-grin.
	The yotje looked up at the human male who had rescued her. He looked different than the rest of the aliens here, appearing more disorganized and unkempt. He was dressed in a slipshod assembly of clothes unlike the uniformed humans. Longer strands of brown hair spilled from the top of his head while thin bristles of a different texture grew from the lower half of his face. His complexion was pale, but he looked completely healthy, as far as she could tell.
	The buds of her antennae flicked and twitched as she took in the various subtle scents that radiated from him. A yotje could tell a lot about someone by the scents they carried. This human smelled like the city, with a number of familiar scents mixed in; rust, engine oil, and burnt rubber, along with a musky, but not unpleasant smell she couldn’t quite identify.
	“Poy’keh’teh'zen?” she asked him, her words reaching him in her indecipherable alien language.
	“Huh?” He looked at her, confused, before he realized what was wrong: no translator. A quick glance revealed the earpiece clutched between the guardsman’s fingers. Gavin made a quick swipe, snatching the small device from the soldier’s fingers before he could react.
	“Hey-!” he protested, attempting to take it back. Gavin ignored him and inserted the microphone into his ear. He looked back down at the tiny alien.
	“How are you?” she repeated, now ensured that he could understand her.
	“I’m okay. How about you?”
	“I’m fine,” she lied, ‘fine’ being the last thing she was feeling, considering her current circumstances. She didn’t have what she would call a good night’s sleep, either. That bookish officer spent hours asking her questions to which she had no answers. She was left alone for the remainder of the night, doing more research through the Primacy’s archives when rest failed to claim her. What little sleep she managed to have was interrupted as her captors shook her awake and dragged her to see the doctor.
	Their small-talk ended, and Gavin took a moment to observe the strange creature once more. Any doubts that Mar’kaa was female were immediately cast aside once Gavin caught sight of her full figure. She lacked the bulky armor that she wore when he first encountered her save for the boots that protected her feet and shins, which revealed a pear-shaped torso covered by a form-fitting suit. A petite upper body gave way to wider, shapely hips, before thinning out into limber legs that bent forward, backward, and then forward again, with xeno somehow managing to support her entire weight while standing on four toes.
	She came up to his waist in terms of height, which forced her to crane her neck back in order to look him in the eye. Her mouth seemed to consist of multiple chitinous plates that shifted as she spoke. They were curved upward in what looked vaguely like a soft smile. She looked happy to see him, but also a bit restless as well, her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her as she regarded him with haggard, otherworldly eyes.
	“What are you up to?” she asked, hoping to prolong the conversation as long as she could.
	“Me? Oh, uh…” Gavin glanced back and the opened air duct. “Just checking the ventilation shafts. We’ve been hearing strange sounds coming from them lately.”
	“Are you a mechanic?”
	Gavin nodded. “Among other things.”
	“Me too, before, well, all this,” Mar’kaa said, motioning in the air. She looked inside the shaft, which looked as dark, narrow, and dusty as the ones back home. Her antennae perked and she looked back up at Gavin. “Can I do anything to help?”
	“Help? Well…”
	Mar’kaa took a step closer to him, her eyes pulsing. “Please? I was only at apprentice level at my repair depot, but I’ve done work like this all my life.” The yotje shuffled in place as she pleaded to him. She was still a prisoner, but hopefully this way she wouldn’t feel completely useless.
	The soldier stood on the sidelines, watching his fellow human and the alien exchange words in two separate languages. He looked bewildered, like he was experiencing some kind of witchcraft. His patience eventually wore thin.
	“Alright, that’s enough.” He stepped forward and began to prod the xeno along with his rifle, the cricket making a surprised yelp as she was shoved.
	“Wait, hang on a sec,” Gavin called out to him. He knew the guardsman somewhat; he was from Alex’s unit, a private who he was more or less on friendly terms with. “Look, uh…McFarlane…”
	The guardsman rolled his eyes in annoyance. “It’s McPherson,” he corrected.
	“Right, whatever. Listen…” Gavin continued. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll watch the xeno.”
	“Are you nuts, Brooks? You’ve seen what these things can do. It’s dangerous, and we—”
	“Does it LOOK dangerous?” Gavin asked, motioning to the xeno. It looked up at them innocently with its insectoid eyes. McPherson didn’t seem to see the same thing he did, looking down at the cricket in disgust. Truthfully, the guardsman found the thing unnerving, with its big, glowing eyes and feelers that moved about as if independent from the rest of its body. He didn’t want to be around it for longer than he needed to.
	McPherson sighed, finally giving in. “If anything happens, Brooks, it’s on you.”
	“I’ll be careful,” Gavin replied, holding up his hand in an oath-like gesture. “Scout’s honor.”
	The soldier brought a hand to his face. “Enough with the boy scout jokes, we—” He huffed in frustration. “Never mind.” He walked off, down the corridor and out of sight.
	Gavin turned back to Mar’kaa, who returned his gaze with curious eyes. “You’re not a soldier, are you?” she asked. “You’re not wearing a uniform.”
	“No. I work for them, sort of,” he answered. “It’s a long story.”
	Mar’kaa seemed to understand, her antennae bobbing up and down. She took another look inside the air duct. “So, do you know what the problem is?”
	Gavin knelt beside her, shining his light down the dark shaft. “Not sure. We keep hearing banging noises, like something’s crawling through it. It’s probably an animal, but Nash, the guy in charge? He thinks it one of your kind sneaking around.”
	Mar’kaa’s antennae flinched again. “Another yotje? Here?”
	“I doubt it. We haven’t seen any of you this far out.”
	“How many more have you seen?” Mar’kaa pressed, concerned for her fellow yotje.
	“Hundreds, maybe more. It’s not just you guys. There are other aliens. Bigger ones. They mostly stay near the ship, but they’ve been exploring the streets recently. That’s how I ran into you the first time.”
	“Oh…” Mar’kaa said quietly, trying and failing to piece everything together. She turned and faced him. “Did…did I really try to shoot you?”
	“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. He switched off his light and turned to her. “You seriously don’t remember?”
	“No,” she reaffirmed.
	“I shot you, too.”
	The yotje’s expression saddened. She reached for the back of her head, rubbing the spot where her headaches originated, which still lingered from time to time. “I saw…other yotje…they were dead…shot.”
	Gavin lowered his head. “I’m sorry. My friend and I, we had to defend ourselves.”
	“I’m not angry, it’s just…” she paused. “…this is all so strange.”
	“You’re not the only one who’s confused right now,” he assured her. “I guess that’s part of why I brought you here, so we could figure out what’s going on here.”
	Mar’kaa made an up-to-down motion with her antennae, looking similar to a nod of understanding to the human. “I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be more helpful, I mean.”
	Gavin smiled as he gave a half-shrug. “Looks like we’re stuck in this mystery a while longer.”
	Mar’kaa felt comfort wash through her, relieved that she wasn’t alone in this. “I guess so.”
	They returned to the task at hand. Gavin shined the light down the shaft once more. “Looks like this one’s clear. It runs straight across that way.” He switched off the light before snapping the vent shut. “Let’s try the next one.”
	He stood up, travelling down the hall with Mar’kaa walking next to him, perhaps a little too closely. A few soldiers gave him suspicious glances when they saw the alien tagging along with him. Gavin continued walking like nothing was out of the ordinary, leading his alien companion deeper into the bunker.
	“What is this place?” Mar’kaa asked curiously, her eyes glimmering as she turned her head at the concrete walls and dim light fixtures.
	“It’s some kind of shelter, I think. Underground, for protection against nukes, maybe.”
	“What are those?”
	Gavin gave her a strange look. “Nuclear weapons?” She still looked confused, even with his clarification. Did they not have those where she was from? Perhaps not. “They’re powerful weapons, can destroy entire cities. We’ve only used them twice, but that was a long time ago. There’s still quite a few around, though.”
	“That’s horrible,” Mar’kaa gasped. “Who would make something like that?”
	“Yeah, well…” Gavin struggled to think of a reasonable explanation. “We’re a strange species, we fight a lot.” He stopped at another vent at the end of the hall, kneeling in front of it. “Here it is.” Opening the cover, he shined his flashlight into the tunnel. “This one’s a little bigger, but it turns in several directions. We’ll have to go deeper. I think we can both fit.”
	“Alright,” Mar’kaa inserted herself into the shaft without hesitation, as if this was the most natural thing for her, deftly maneuvering through the tight space. Gavin, being larger than her, had to crawl in on his elbows after her.
	“Can you see okay?” he called to her, squeezing himself fully inside.
	“Don’t worry, yotje can see in the dark.”
	The aluminum shaft groaned as the human pushed himself deeper, accompanied by tip-tap noises from Mar’kaa’s boots as she quickly shuffled ahead of him. With his eyes not adjusting to the darkness quite as quickly, he reached for his flashlight again, switching it on and shining it ahead of him.
	Errant dust particles danced in the beam as it cut through the black. He saw Mar’kaa a few feet ahead, stopped at a point where the duct curved off to the left. She knelt down further, now on her knees as she peeked around the corner.
	The high-intensity light reflected off the nylon-like texture of Mar’kaa’s bodysuit, her posterior taking the forefront of his focus. Gavin stopped where he was when he caught sight of it. The black material that covered the alien’s body was extremely form-fitting, accentuating every curve and detail. Two supple-looking cheeks stuck out at him with a very noticeable crevice in between, framed nicely by her wide hips in a flawless heart shape.
	Gavin found himself shamelessly eyeing the xeno’s appealing anatomy as she scouted the perpendicular shaft in front of her. He didn’t expect these kinds of womanly features on a bug, of all things. Thin, spindly, and rigid chitin were usually the descriptors that came to mind when he thought of insects, though the same logic probably didn’t apply to these aliens.
	Mar’kaa turned her head around, her characteristic glowing eyes meeting his. “I think there’s something down here,” she reported, crawling forward. Gavin followed her, squeezing himself around the tight corner and reaching the center of the new passage, where Mar’kaa had stopped again. She looked up at a vertical shaft connected to the one they were now in. What looked like dry foliage hung from the opening.
	“Scoot over,” he told her and she quickly complied, shuffling to the right while he crawled forward, taking up the empty space next to her, the both of them now a breath apart. Gavin pointed the light at the significant blockage that covered the entire duct; a mixture of dried leaves and grass and clumps of dirt.
	“What is it?” Mar’kaa asked him.
	“Not sure…” Gavin cautiously reached out to it and began to dig through it with his fingers.
	At his slight touch, the entire obstruction gave way, collapsing into the horizontal shaft below. An animalistic screech resonated through the small space as a small, furry form fell from the shaft soon after.
	Mar’kaa screamed and Gavin quickly pulled his hand away, both of them recoiling backward. The creature writhed and squealed on its back in front of them, four limbs thrashing wildly before it flipped itself upright, fleeing clumsily down the shaft.
	Gavin set his light on it immediately. The small, beady eyes of a possum looked back at him, screeching harshly at the beings that had disturbed its nest. The smaller, pointed snouts of its young poked out from the pouch of its belly. It retreated to the end of the shaft, where it exited to the outside, pushing away the hinged vent cover with its head and bolting out into the elements it was probably sheltering from.
	Gavin exhaled and turned his attention back to Mar’kaa, who was now huddled against him, face buried in his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
	“What was that?!” she cried, clearly panicked.
	“An animal. Don’t worry, it was just scared. It’s gone now.”
	Mar’kaa peeked out from his side, her incandescent eyes peering down the shaft where the possum fled. Gavin felt heartbeat-like vibrations from the small hands that touched his arm. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she breathed. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore.”
	More debris fell from the shaft, along with a smaller possum. The baby cried and squealed as it scurried back and forth in confusion. Cries from the outside attracted its attention, and the young animal hurried in that direction, hoping to join its mother.
	The human and the yotje found themselves laughing at the whole ordeal. Mar’kaa pressed herself closer to him as she giggled for the first time in a long while. Their eyes met as their hysterics died down and they regarded each other silently.
	Gavin watched curiously as Mar’kaa’s antennae moved atop her head, the limp one not as active as its longer twin. He inhaled through his nose and caught a strong whiff of a perfumed scent, thick and pungent. Gavin suddenly felt very hot, and his skin itchy. He didn’t mind tight spaces, but the walls of the shaft seemed tighter than usual. Maybe he had spent too much time in here.
	He pulled away from his new alien friend, who seemed almost disappointed at the separation. He began to shuffle backward, awkwardly crawling back the way they came. “I’d say that’s a job well done.”
	“Yeah…” Mar’kaa sighed. She quickly followed him out, secretly hoping that she could experience that closeness again.

[…]

	Gavin led Mar’kaa down one level back to the workshop, where the rest of the maintenance crew was gathered, engaged in a variety of tasks. Frank looked up from the disassembled electrical box he was working on, noticing Gavin’s entry. “How’d you get on?”
	“Vents are clear. Nash can rest easy now, it was only a possum,” Gavin replied. “Had to do a little pest control.”
	“That was quick,” Mike commented.
	“Well, I had some help.” Gavin took a step to the side, revealing the short xeno that stood slightly behind him, out of everyone’s sight until now. All eyes were on Mar’kaa, who was noticeably uncomfortable being the center of attention. The alien stared at the floor, shyly fidgeting.
	Alex looked up from the far corner where she was kneeling, over the large, alien mystery object which was sitting on a tarp on the floor. She eyed the xeno with barely disguised suspicion. She cocked her head at Gavin, giving him a ‘what is that thing doing here?’ look. Gavin just shrugged.
	“I’ll be damned,” Frank muttered, taking a few steps closer to the curious insect, observing her with wonderment. “Nash actually let it out of its cage?”
	“Not exactly,” Gavin said. “I don’t think she’ll be much use to Nash, anyway.” He took another glance at Mar’kaa, who returned it. “I’m thinking she can be of some help to us down here.”
	Alex stood up. “Do you really think it’s safe giving it full run of the place like this?”
	“Full run of what? Our top-secret ventilation shafts?” Gavin argued. “Relax, Alex. It’s not like I’m handing out launch codes.”
	“You know full well the security protocols the captain put in place. It’s bad enough you brought it here, but we can’t just have it wandering around freely.”
	“’The captain’ this, ‘protocol’ that. Jesus, you military types are like broken records sometimes.”
	Mar’kaa looked around the workshop as the two humans argued. It was just like her repair depot, with tools, parts, and unfinished projects scattered everywhere with only a modicum of organization. Her gaze fell immediately on the ominous black object across the room.
	Columns of data scrolled through the insides of her eyes, her vision suddenly awash with orange text.
[PRIMACY POWER NODE DETECTED]
[ESTABLISHING REMOTE UPLINK]
	Mar’kaa felt a tingling sensation like static clouding her mind. The static transitioned to full-on electric volts, ricocheting violently through her dome. The yotje screamed as she felt like her head had been split open, dropping to her knees. 
	The occurrence did not go unnoticed by the humans in the room. Their attention turned to the xeno as let loose a pained wail. Suddenly, a bluish electrical charge shot from her forehead to the alien device across the room. They narrowly dodged the bolt as it arced through the space between them. The small, blue diodes that lined the surface of the object glowed more intensely at the stimulation. 
[AUTOMATIC AUTHORIZATION CIPHER INPUTED BY CONDUIT 76847290]
[POWER NODE ACTIVATED, OVERIDING LOCAL SYSTEMS]
	The object droned hauntingly as it rose from the ground on its own accord to everyone’s horror, as if manipulated by a poltergeist. Without warning, the room was plunged into darkness as the lights went dead. The continuous, steady hum of the power generators faded into unnatural silence.
	“Whoa-!” Mike shouted through the dark.
	“What was that?” Stumbling noises could be heard in Frank’s direction followed by loose items clattering on the floor. “Anyone got a light?”
	Gavin reached for the flashlight in his pocket. He flicked the switch on and off. Nothing. He looked around the darkened room. The only light sources were the electric blue illuminations of the alien device and the characteristic glow of Mar’kaa’s eyes, which shone a bright red against the black like two taillights, weakly blinking open and shut. Gavin felt a form dash past him and he heard his alien friend grunt as a scuffle unfolded near his feet.
	After nearly ten seconds of darkness, the lights shot back on as if nothing had happened. They no longer dimly flickered but shone with a bright intensity. The generators hummed back to life as well. The piece of xeno tech levitated several feet in the air. It spun rapidly on a vertical axis, its pyramidal spikes rotating around it, before coming to a stop and switching directions, now spinning horizontally like a globe.
	Gavin turned around and saw Alex pinning Mar’kaa to the floor, her pistol pointed straight at the back of the alien’s head.
	“What did you do?!” she demanded, pressing the gun tighter.
	“Please! I don’t—” Mar’kaa cried, her face practically buried into the concrete.
	Gavin rushed to intervene. “Alex, let go of her!”
	“Not a chance,” she replied coldly. “Not until I get answers.”
	A series of hurried footsteps could be heard filing down the stairs, a booming and authoritative voice leading the fray. “I told you to keep an eye on it!”
	“I’m sorry, sir, I—”
	“Brooks!”
	“Ah, shit…” Gavin groaned, dreading the wrath that was coming.
	Nash stormed into the room with several soldiers following him, their rifles at the ready. His attention was immediately peeled from Gavin and the alien to the anomaly that floated magically in the back of the room.
	“What in God’s name…?” he muttered, staring at the spinning object, obviously flabbergasted. The guardsmen accompanying him looked equally conflicted, shuffling back and forth nervously, unsure of what to do. The captain turned to Gavin. “What is this?”
	Gavin held his hands out indignantly. “How the fuck should I know?”
	“The bug activated it, sir, somehow,” Alex answered him from her position overtop the xeno.
	“Captain, wait,” Frank called out. “Before you do anything drastic…” The aged mechanic took a step closer to the device. He held his wrinkled hand out to it, getting close enough to touch it as stopped spinning, but quickly pulled away once it started to swivel once more. “Mike, generators.”
	“Got it,” he replied, turning and squeezing himself past the crowd that had formed at the door.
	Frank moved to a nearby tool chest, moving speedily for someone who was nearly eighty, and dug around in search of something, soon pulling out several electronic instruments. Everyone else could only watch as the elderly man did whatever he was planning to do.
	He activated a handheld reader, the small machine beeping to life as he held it closer to the mystery object. “Power readings are off the charts,” he said, turning several dials on the front of the reader.
	“What about outgoing signals?” Nash asked, stepping closer alongside him. “Is it broadcasting our location?”
	Frank fished out another device, this one some sort of magnetic detector attached to a larger module by a cord. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, running the rod around the perimeter of the alien machination. “Its range doesn’t seem to go much further than the bunker walls. Mike! How’re we looking?”
	“Generators are in the green, boss,” Mike replied as he came back into the room.
	Frank was silent for a moment. “Battery power?”
	“One hundred percent.”
	The old man looked around the room, confused, before going back to his instruments, as well as pulling out a few more for good measure. For the first time, he looked stumped.
	“Mister Mercer?” Nash called almost impatiently.
	“Huh?” Frank snapped back to reality. “Oh, sorry, captain. This thing? It’s a power source of some kind. If I’m right…” He began toying with the various machines at his disposal, pressing buttons and turning knobs. “…it’s synched itself with the power systems in the bunker. Everything is at maximum output.”
	“How is that possible?”
	“I wish I could tell you,” he said, looking up at the spinning device. “It seems to be an autonomous generator—energy is spiking from it and it shows no signs of stopping.”
	Nash strode over to Mar’kaa, who was held down by Alex. “How did you turn this thing on?” he questioned. “What purpose does it serve?”
	He received only unintelligible dialect in response, but the desperation was apparent in the inflections of the alien’s voice. “She says she doesn’t know,” Gavin interjected.
	“You don’t know much of anything, do you?” Alex chided at the xeno beneath her. “Captain, we’ve gained almost nothing of value from this xeno. It’s clearly holding out on us. If we’re not going to get anything useful from it, then what use is it to us?”
	“She just activated a generator that powers the entire bunker,” Gavin argued. “I’d say that’s a pretty big something.”
	Nash turned to Frank. “Mister Mercer, how stable is this power source?”
	“I’m not sure. We’ll have to run diagnostics.”
	“Do what you can.” The officer went back to Alex. “Stand down, Torres.”
	“But sir—”
	“That’s an order, specialist.”
	Alex huffed, reluctantly holstering her pistol and standing back up, removing her weight from the alien. Gavin moved in immediately, helping Mar’kaa to her feet.
	“Brooks,” Nash called to him. Gavin approached and the captain pulled him aside. “How many times do we have to go on high alert because of you?”
	Gavin shrugged, having no excuse.
	“I’m going to be lenient here,” Nash continued “This alien may claim to not know anything but it clearly has secrets tucked away, as you can see.” He motioned to the power source, still in the air and spinning away. “You were the first to establish contact with it, so it seems to trust you the most. I want you to coax any information you can from it. You brought it here, so it’s your responsibility.”
	Gavin glanced back at Mar’kaa, who sat on a nearby crate, looking distraught. He sighed. “I’ll try. I can’t make any promises.”
	“I don’t expect you to,” Nash commented in a disappointed tone, like a father who had been let down by his son way too many times. “Everyone, back to your posts,” he ordered the soldiers in the room, who quickly exited. “McPherson, Torres, stay.” He approached the two. “Private McPherson, would you care to explain why you abandoned your post when you were expressly ordered to guard the prisoner?”
	“I’m sorry, sir,” the guardsman replied shamefully. “I’m entomophobic.”
	“You’re what?”
	“I’m…afraid of bugs, sir.”
	Nash had no words. “Back to your post, private.”
	“Yes, sir.” McPherson turned and headed upstairs, hanging his head in embarrassment.
	“You’re my eyes down here, Torres. I’ve tasked Brooks with working with the alien, but I’ll need you to make sure nothing suspicious happens.”
	“Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir? Brooks is—”
	“Brooks is Brooks, I know,” he admitted, “I don’t know how he managed it, but he’s managed to establish a rapport with it. He’s made more progress than Kowalczyk has. Let him do his work, but don’t let them get too friendly. It’s still a prisoner, after all.”
	“Understood, sir.”
	“Good. Dismissed.”
	Alex saluted him and he returned it before they went their separate ways. She eyed Gavin across the room, who had sat on the low crate next to the alien.
	“Are you okay?” he asked Mar’kaa, who kept her eyes on the floor.
	“No,” she answered truthfully. Gavin could hear the dejection in her voice. She looked up at him with sad, weary-looking eyes but he could sense her mind was elsewhere. “Have you ever felt like you weren’t yourself anymore?” she asked him.
	“I don’t know, maybe?” he said, unsure of what she was talking about.
	Mar’kaa tore her gaze from him, staring ahead at nothing. “Someone brought me here from my homeworld, the Primacy, I think they’re called. I don’t remember anything before waking up here, but they…did things to me. Stuck machines inside my body. I don’t know what they want or why they sent me here, but…” She trailed off for a few seconds. “…I feel like…like a part of me has been replaced, like I’m half-machine now. I haven’t felt like myself since I got here.” Her voice started to break. “Am I still Mar’kaa? How much of me is still yotje?”
	Gavin could only listen, feeling powerless to help her. He imagined her situation was like waking up in a different place than where you went to sleep, except you woke up in another world entirely with your body modified without your knowledge. He’d probably react the same way if he were in her place.
	“My life on Kor’ten wasn’t easy, Gavin, but at least I had a sense of what was what there,” she explained, looking at him again. “I had a role to fill, a family to support. Where am I now? A world I know nothing about with aliens I don’t know…except for you, I guess.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “This all sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Why would you believe any of this?”
	“I don’t know, but…somehow I believe you,” he said. Mar’kaa cocked her head at his response, then she felt his hand on her upper back. It was a comforting touch; sudden, but not unwelcome. “Listen,” he started. “It’s not like things are normal here, either. I mean, we’ve been invaded by aliens, for crying out loud! Everything was normal one day, and then that ship came, and it all went to shit. Lots of people went missing, or are probably dead, we’re not really sure. All the humans you see here? They’re all stuck here, watching over an empty city, away from their own families.”
	“What about you?” Mar’kaa asked. “You said you weren’t military. Why are you here?”
	“Nowhere else to go, I guess.”
	“What about your family?”
	Gavin looked away, struggling for a moment. “That’s…a long story,” He quickly changed the subject. “My point is, you’re not alone in this. You’re safe here.”
	The alien’s smile returned. “Thank you…I know I’ve been a hassle to deal with…”
	“You weren’t,” he assured her.
	“Oh, yes I was,” she argued. “You have your own problems, and here I am, spilling mine onto you,” She looked unsteadily toward Alex, who was observing the floating power source with her back turned. “And I can tell that I’m not welcome here—they don’t trust me.”
	“They see you as one of the invaders. There’s a lot of bad blood,” he explained. “I have feeling this is all a big misunderstanding. Just stick with me, you’ll be fine.”
	“Thank you, Gavin, I…” The yotje found herself inched closer to him than she was before, with her gloved hand suddenly resting on the top of his thigh. Her touch didn’t go unnoticed; Gavin looked surprised at the sudden physical contact, but he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand on her back, his fingertips and palm feeling electrical, even through her armored shoulder plates and the fabric of her bodysuit.
	Mar’kaa had mixed feelings about humans so far. First, they fascinated her, then after her encounter with those armed humans in the city, they downright terrified her. The soldiers in the bunker were equally intimidating. They may have fed and sheltered her, but she had a feeling they were just as capable of killing her if they felt like it.
	The only human she was at ease around was this one, this Gavin. She felt as if he was the only one she could rely on, not just because he had saved her life, but also because he was sympathetic to her plight, as ridiculous and farfetched as it was. She didn’t quite understand his motivations, helping her when he had absolutely nothing to gain from it. Still, she found his misplaced compassion somehow endearing.
	Her antennae fluttered, sampling the human’s scents as she tried to figure him out, wondering what he was thinking as he stared back at her, what secrets he kept. She felt a heat form in her lower belly, one that spread to her entire body. It was an odd sensation, one she had never experienced before, but it was a boon in the inhospitable cold of this planet, which persisted even down here.
	Mar’kaa observed him as he inhaled deeply, watching with interest as the holed appendage in the middle of his face expanded and contracted. Gavin started to look slightly discomforted, shifting in place and rapidly blinking. He suddenly moved to stand, his thigh lifting itself out from under her tiny palm. Surprised at the sudden separation, she stood as well, hoping to keep as little distance between them as she could.
	“Frank’ll probably want me to run a systems check, make sure nothing got fried during that outage,” Gavin said. He turned back to her, only to find her standing extremely close, just inches away. “Will you help me?”
	“Of course I will,” she replied rather enthusiastically. Her crimson eyes pulsed and her antennae moved about haphazardly, expressions that Gavin came to associate with more positive emotions. Looks like he was becoming an alien expert already.

[…]

	The day’s excitement began to die down as the evening came. Almost everyone became accustomed to Mar’kaa’s presence, or at least pretended to, as she freely roamed the halls with Gavin, performing checks on the bunker’s electrical systems.
	Gavin was surprised at how quickly Mar’kaa had accustomed herself to the intricacies of human technology. It was evident that she was in this line of work for a long time, and that her species’ technological specifications were the same, if not similar to humanity’s. Anything she was unfamiliar with she quickly caught on to, enough that she was able to perform most tasks without his assistance.
	Gavin would ask her questions as they worked, more out of curiosity than the fact that Nash ordered him to fish information from her; he knew that he would get nowhere in that regard. He instead asked about her, as well as her people and her homeworld.
	The yotje, as Mar’kaa called them, seemed very collectivist in nature, not unlike colony insects on Earth. Everything they did was for the good of the species as a whole; there was no war and no political strife. Despite this unified effort, the yotje still lived rough. From what Mar’kaa told him, it sounded like their civilization had reached its industrialized age and hadn’t advanced much past that point. Expansion and overpopulation forced the yotje to toil around the clock. Mar’kaa herself had been part of the labor force since she was ten—apparently age restrictions on workers weren’t a thing in her corner of the universe.
	Mar’kaa talked about it so casually, like it was completely normal, though to her it probably was. Gavin had to remind himself that this was an alien he was speaking to; her way of life was drastically different than his own, having developed so far away.
	She would ask him questions as well, about Earth and humans, but mostly about movies for some odd reason. He indulged her inquisitiveness to the best of his ability.
	Their conversation eventually drifted to her family. She had a large one; with seven siblings. She was closest with one of her sisters—the family troublemaker, the way things sounded.
	“Nid’zii was with me, when it all happened,” Mar’kaa said as she inspected the arrays of electrical tubing that lined the inside of the power relay embedded in the wall. “My parents too. I don’t know where they are now.”
	Gavin looked up from the junction box he had removed from the relay and was in the process of fixing, unsure of what to say. Her family could be anywhere in the city, if they were in the city at all. They could have also been some of the yotje that they had killed over the past few months. He didn’t know how to tell her that finding them was near impossible given the current circumstances. Maybe she knew that already.
	“I’m sure they’re fine, wherever they are,” he consoled her, trying to keep her spirits up. “You just need to have faith, that’s all.” 
	Mar’kaa peeked out from the hole in the wall, the plates of her mouth shifting into a somewhat confident smile. “I know. I’m trying to.”
	“I think we’re good here,” Gavin announced as he finished his work on the box. He closed it and hefted it upright, ready to reinsert it back into the relay.
	“Okay,” Mar’kaa responded, “just let me realign the transistor, and—“
	The yotje accidently nudged her shoulder up against another junction box situated above her, knocking it loose from its slot. The bulky unit fell diagonally onto the small alien, trapping her halfway inside the chamber, with a few tubes falling on top for good measure.
	Gavin immediately took notice to the calamity happening beside him, seeing Mar’kaa pinned underneath a tangled mess of machinery. He rushed to her in concern. Only the lower half of her body was visible, her waist and legs consciously moving. Still alive, thankfully.
	“Mar’kaa?”
	“What…?” her muffled voice echoed from within the chamber. “What happened?”
	“Junction box fell, I think,” He tried to lift it off her. It wouldn’t budge. “Are you okay?”
	“I think so,” she replied. She squirmed beneath her entrapment of metal and rubber, bracing her foot against the floor, attempting to free herself. “But I think I’m stuck.”
	Gavin pulled at the loose box from a different angle, but it was effectively jammed. “Hang on, I’ll try to—“
	He reached down, placing both hands on the yotje’s hips. Mar’kaa visibly flinched, her muscles tensing at the sudden contact. Gavin’s breath caught in his throat. He had done it without thinking, but for some reason his hands didn’t leave her body. Mar’kaa was silent, voicing no protest at his action.
	Gavin found himself frozen, staring down at the prominent waistline now between his hands. It wasn’t the first time he had admired it. Were these bugs always this curvy? Or perhaps he hadn’t noticed before. His grip was firmly placed just above the arch of her buttocks, the cheeks of which looked extremely soft and pliable. He could feel the hardened carapace along her lower back and sides, but that seemed to transition to a doughy, fleshy texture where her glutes began.
	The sight was hypnotic. Gavin suddenly felt very hot as his skin began to clam up. The air seemed heavy and smelled sweeter.
	“…Gavin…?”
	He jumped at the sound of her song-like voice, as if snapped from a dream. “I, uh…” His hands remained at her hips. His memory was blank as he wondered how he got to this point. “…I’m going to try and pull you out,” he croaked out, his throat dry. “Can you push from where you are?”
	“Y-yeah,” she answered. Gavin began to pull, the curvature of her hips making for perfect handholds, and Mar’kaa was slowly inched out of the snare she had caught herself in. Combined with her pushes, she popped free from the relay, the displaced junction box sliding down to the space she once occupied. She recovered quickly, rising to her feet and turning around to face him. From his kneeling position they were now at equal eye level, her red, tessellated orbs meeting gray irises.
	“Are you alright?” he asked again. His hands found their place on her waist again, as if drawn there magnetically.
	“Yes…thank you,” Mar’kaa replied softly. She felt the warm tenderness brewing in her belly again as she regarded the human in front of her, her friend, her rescuer. She had never felt this way before and she was at a loss as to how she should react to this sudden emotional development. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, returning the embrace he had on her.
	Gavin was again transfixed by the alien woman’s figure. Despite her strange appearance and origin, she still retained a semblance of femininity that he was familiar with, a motherly waist contrasted with a lithe upper body. Her stomach area stuck out with a bit of noticeable pudge, which seemed to compliment the rest of the curves she possessed.
	He looked back up at her face. The glow of her eyes pulsed occasionally with a strange, white refraction of light, while her antennae danced wildly, threatening to brush against his hair. He felt the gentle rumbles emanate from her body, both from her midsection and her hands on his shoulders. Her hips swayed gently as she shifted in his intimate hold.
	What was left of his conscious thought pulled the leash on him. Gavin’s eyes snapped shut then back open, now aware of how close he was to her, and where his hands were. He pulled away as if the tiny alien was a shock to the touch. He stood, striding to the other end of the hallway, fanning his clothes which now felt constricting against his skin. What the hell was he doing?
	Mar’kaa immediately closed the distance between them, concerned, but also secretly longing for his touch again, her hips now feeling empty without the presence of his hands. “Gavin? Are you—“
	“I’m fine,” he insisted, though his tone of voice did little to mask the truth. He looked around—the hallway was empty save for a few soldiers down at the far end whose attentions were elsewhere. He fast-walked past the yotje, back toward the relay, barely glancing in her direction. Red eyes followed his every move, confused as to why he was acting so strangely.
	Gavin knelt down, putting the fallen junction box back into place and sliding the other one back in. He kept his focus on the task in front of him until Mar’kaa appeared at his side, fidgeting nervously.
	“Do you need any help, or…?”
	“No, I got this.” He plugged wires into corresponding sockets, not bothering to check if he was making any mistakes. Finished, he shut the access panel and stood. “It’s late, we should stop for today.”
	“Okay,” Her antennae drooped slightly. “I was sleeping in that room over there, so…” She pointed to the interrogation room down the hall.
	“No need, I have a spare bedroll you can use,” he said. “You don’t have to sleep there.”
	“Really? But…I’m still a prisoner. Wouldn’t the captain—“
	Gavin rolled his eyes at the mere mention of Nash. “Don’t worry about him. He placed you under my watch. If he has problems with how I do things, he’ll take it up with me.” Mar’kaa could only offer a nervous smile, silently admiring his assertiveness. She was envious, in a way. She wished she had enough confidence to stand up to her own boss back home.
	Gavin lead her back downstairs and past the workshop to what looked like his sleeping quarters—no more than a small closet, even smaller than her nest. He reached behind a few boxes in the corner and pulled out a rolled-up piece of fabric. Mar’kaa watched as he unfastened it and placed it on the floor, unfurling it in one smooth motion. It was human-sized—more than enough room for her.
	“Thank you, Gavin,” she said, “for everything.”
	“Don’t mention it.”
	The two stared at each other for a few moments, awkward silence filling the room. Gavin broke first, turning to sit down on his cot. Mar’kaa did the same, lowering herself onto the bedroll. She unlatched the boots she had on, removing her sore feet from their confines.
	Gavin shifted unsteadily where he sat, unable to make himself comfortable. He felt like he was burning up as the sweat pooled beneath his layers of clothing. He unzipped his hoodie and stripped himself of it. His skin felt hypersensitive as it rubbed against the inside of his clothes, but it was a pleasurable sensation, sending thrilling shockwaves to his brain.
	He moved to unlace his boots while struggling to control his breathing. He was probably coming down with something—a fever, perhaps. It was winter, after all. He inhaled more of that strange, flowery scent, which seemed to permeate the confined space he was now in. It was an extremely pleasant smell, becoming a small vice in its own way; Gavin couldn’t help but take in another whiff right after. Where was it coming from? He never noticed it until-
	Gavin glanced across the room at the alien. She had removed her metal boots and sat on the bedroll with her knees folded in front of her chest, accentuating her pear-shaped figure. She rubbed her thighs together, her hips shifting with her subtle movements. Gavin swallowed.
	Mar’kaa shared his inquisitive stares. Something looked to be troubling him, an air of uneasiness replacing his previous cool and collected demeanor. She watched the human male with worry as she struggled to comprehend the slew of emotions that bubbled within her.
	It certainly wasn’t in her nature, placing her trust in a complete stranger, much less an alien that she barely knew on a superficial level. Under normal circumstances, she would not have opened herself up as easily as she had done with him. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Not in the slightest.
	She had been torn away from everything she knew—her family, her home—in such a short span of time. She found herself here, on a hostile planet where even the weather wanted her dead. Her body had been transformed, becoming a distorted amalgamation of mind and machine.
	Was it so strange for her to find comfort in the one person who showed her so much kindness? She wasn’t used to being treated this way, except by her family, but that was different.
	Her antennae flicked as she observed his lean figure slouched on the cot, shuffling uncontrollably and wiping a huge amount of perspiration from his brow. Was he considered attractive for a human? She couldn’t be sure.
	Her concern for his wellbeing caused her to stand. He helped her—she wanted to help him.
	His head jolted in her direction as he saw her approach. His mouth parted slightly and his eyes rapidly looked her up and down.
	“Gavin?”
	Her high-pitched voice sounded angelic in his ears. “…Yes?”
	“I just…” The yotje fidgeted in place, trying to find her words. “You’ve done so much for me…” She had thanked him countless times. She felt it was never enough.
	“No, it’s…” Gavin stuttered as whatever plagued him worsened. His hands clenched his knees as he fought through it. Part of him wanted to leave, go see if the doctor could find out what was ailing him, but some unknown force kept him pinned to the spot. He jumped as a tiny, three-fingered hand gently landed on top of his. He quickly pulled it away as if he had touched a hot stove.
	Mar’kaa’s heart sank at his evasiveness. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact entirely. Her expression saddened. Did he find her repulsive? She could fix that…
	Making a daring move that she didn’t think possible of her, she stepped closer, between the gap in his legs. Gavin’s heart hammered as her plump hips brushed against the insides of his thighs, her hands placed on either leg. His skin screamed at the touch.
	“I…I don’t—” he managed to sputter out, his brain scrambled. He gazed wantonly at the delicate curves of her body as her luscious fragrance surrounded him. He felt his self-control hanging by a thin rope, the strands severing one by one as more baser instincts threatened to take control.
	The warmth in Mar’kaa’s belly reached a boiling point. Desires that had lay dormant in her began to peel their way to the surface. Her depressing reality continued to manifest itself in the form of the constant electronic notifications scrolling across her vision.
[CONDUIT 76847290 HEART RATE SPIKING, PLEASE SEEK IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION]
	Mar’kaa squeezed her eyes shut, as if to blink the irritating messages out of existence, but she knew that was no use. She had had enough of it.
	“Please,” she silently prayed to the Hivemother, if she was even listening. “Let me feel like a yotje again, just this once…” She focused entirely on the object of her affection. Gavin stared longingly back at her.
	She lifted her hand, placing it on his chest. This time, he didn’t pull away. She could feel the subtle drumming of his heart, shaky breaths causing his torso to expand and contract. Her longer antenna errantly swept along checkered texture of his thermal shirt, soon reaching the top where it was slightly unbuttoned, her sensory node grazing the exposed skin of his collarbone.
	Conscious thought left him. His rope snapped.
	Gavin’s hands shot to their rightful place upon her waist. He pulled her closer, the yotje yelping in surprise. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and sharply inhaled her addicting aroma. Mar’kaa melted in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, urging him to continue.
	His hands roamed around the circumference of her waist and found purchase on her supple cheeks. Mar’kaa cooed softly into his shoulder as he massaged her intimately, her glutes conforming to his touch. He breathed her in once more, further invigorating his lustful haze.
	His hands left her posterior only to greedily claw at her bodysuit, eagerly searching for its weak point. He found it with little difficulty and pulled the thin fabric open from the front and worked downward. The dark purple carapace of her torso was exposed, which covered her shoulders and upper body. He stripped her further and revealed her pudgy midriff, lavender-colored and more skin-like in appearance.
	Mar’kaa snaked her arms from her suit, letting the upper half of it drape from the curve of her waist. Her bare palms came to his neck, eager to feel his soft skin completely unobstructed. Gavin let out a combination of a shuttered breath and a moan as her palms, cool to the touch and as soft as an animal’s paw pads, caressed his sensitive collar region. Her antennae traced lines along his face, providing a ticklish and equally pleasurable sensation.
	He gripped the bunched-up fabric around her hips and pulled it down, feeling her soft butt jiggle as the black material stuck to it. Mar’kaa kicked her legs rid herself of the suit entirely. Gavin wasted no time exploring the nude alien in front of him. She moaned as multi-digited hands grasped her bottom and felt at the small craters along her back.
	Gavin’s mind ran as if on autopilot; reduced to a near primal state. He locked Mar’kaa in a firm hold, effortlessly lifting her off the ground and setting her on the cot face-up. He was on top of her in seconds, planting his arms on either side of her. Mar’kaa’s heart hammered as she gripped his forearms, feeling something firm nudge against her bare sex. Emotions battled within her, a volatile concoction of excitement, arousal, and fear. Was she really doing this? Was she ready for a lifemate?
	Her questions went unanswered as her partner wasted no time. Gavin lifted himself to remove his own clothes. Mar’kaa sat up to help him along, impatiently pulling his shirt upward as he crawled his way out his pants. His shirt came next, the pair working together to pull it off of him. Mar’kaa placed her hands gently on his chest, feeling at the slim muscles of his torso as they flexed with his movements. Something else caught her attention as Gavin peeled away his undergarments.
	Mar’kaa stared hesitantly at the girth that sprang forward into her focus. It would surely break her, but her lust won over immediately. She felt her arousal pour forth between her legs and pool on the cot’s canvas. She wanted this, needed this.
	Gavin, now equally naked, set upon her once again, pushing her onto her back. He looked down lustfully at her nubile body, alien and small, yet curved in all the right places. Their eyes met as a silent understanding was made between them. They both knew what had to happen next.
	He aligned his pelvis with hers and she spread her legs to welcome him. He shuffled a bit before finding purchase with her opening. Mar’kaa let loose a sharp gasp at the mere brush of his tip along her folds. She hugged him for comfort as he pushed further, her toes curling as she felt her entrance separate.
	Gavin reeled internally as his cock was enveloped by the vice-like tightness of her sex. It felt different than a human’s, fuller and with lips that surrounded his member from all sides. The alien woman squealed loudly as he inserted another half-inch. She was clearly in pain, but the way she wrapped her limbs around him indicated otherwise. The yotje pulled him into her, her arms around his upper back and legs squeezing his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.
	He spread her apart little by little until he met resistance. Mar’kaa screamed as the entrance to her womb was pierced. Her body was racked by a violent yet pleasurable convulsion. Her legs pulled him tighter and she dug her fingertips into his back.
	Her human lover grunted as his cock was squeezed without mercy, his efforts rewarded by a deluge of her warm juices drench his shaft and spill out onto his groin. He continued past the obstructive barrier, his lover crying out as his length slid further in..
	Mar’kaa had finished riding out her orgasm as Gavin pressed deeper. She buried her face into his chest, her antennae whipping and swatting him, picking up whiffs of his scents. She moaned again as he hit the very back of her fertile tunnel, and once more as she felt him withdraw, massaging her cervix as he left her. Before she knew it, he entered her again, this time quicker, with another wave of pleasure lapping away at her nerves.
	Gavin began to establish a steady rhythm, thrusting into Mar’kaa’s heated depths. He reveled in her high-pitched, song-like moans and the tickles of her feelers as he pleasured her. Her body gave soft rumbles and her thick aroma clouded the air. He leaned in, breathing in another dose of the alluring chemical straight from the source. He had never felt so invigorated, his body practically oozing a raw, sexual power. All that remained of him were base, animal urges. His need to fuck until release overcame everything else. The world surrounding him no longer existed.
	Mar’kaa was awash with euphoria her body adjusted itself to the mating. The pain began to disappear and only the pleasure remained. She held her lifemate tighter, as if he would float away at any moment.
	She could feel another quake coming along, the human atop her pushing her toward it. Mar’kaa angled her waist into his thrusts, awaiting what was to come, the desire to be seeded overtaking her. She briefly wondered if yotje and humans could make hatchlings together. Her arousal intensified at the thought of her fertilized eggs swelling her belly…
	Gavin exerted himself with his newfound strength, pounding away mercilessly at the alien who lay beneath him. Her pleasured screams became louder and more continuous as he went faster. He felt his carnal goal approach as bore deep, his balls slapping against the bubbly flesh of her ass. He reached down, grasping at her waist while supporting himself on his other elbow. His thumb brushed her smooth belly region.
	That was it! Mar’kaa howled as the human digit stimulated the pleasure centers there. Her hand shot on top of his, guiding it towards the whole of her middle. She shuddered, her second climax rampaging through her.
	Gavin felt her body lock up and tiny fingers claw at his back. Her entrance clamped tighter around his cock, so much that it was almost painful. This, combined with his final thrusts, brought about the release he sought. He bottomed out one final time.
	Mar’kaa sensed his member pulsing within her, shooting his essence into her furthest depths. She entered a mind-shattering high, her hips buckling as she accepted his gift. She constricted his pelvis with both legs, holding him in place to ensure that none of his vital fluids escaped her warm passage.
	Gavin’s vision went white and his body felt fuzzy. He could barely register where he was, who he was with, or what had just occurred. His muscles fatigued, he collapsed forward onto the cot, semi-consciously falling off to the side as to not crush the presence he felt beneath him.
	Mar’kaa kept her embrace on her alien lover, her lifemate, as he lay next to her, both of them exhausted. They were still connected at their waists, their respective genitals in tandem and washed in the residual fluids of their intercourse. The yotje kept him buried within her, not wanting the experience to end.
	She looked up at him blearily, her eyes pulsing as she regarded the male she was now bonded to. It was more than their physical union; they were now two parts of a whole, a natural symbiosis. Lifemates. She curled herself into the large body next to her and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt at peace.
	Gavin teetered in and out of consciousness, feeling a warmth and an obvious wetness near his nether regions. His post-orgasmic high was made more overwhelming by the thick haze that invaded his nostrils. Too tired to even think properly, he let sleep claim him, with only the faintest of thoughts drifting through his mind:
	…What the fuck just happened…?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

THE PHILADELPHIA FILES—UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES HIGH COMMAND
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION—THOSE VIEWING THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO MILITARY TRIBUNAL AND PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW
Document #194: Medical report of Extraterrestrial Subject Alpha (Mar’kaa Te’Sey’nii’Hos’naa), Report compiled by Warrant Officer Third Class Dana Travers (United States Navy), Chief Medical Officer of the Philadelphia Remnant Forces, dated January 12, 2030.

UNITED STATES NAVY PHYSICAL CHART (FOR OFFICIAL MEDICAL USE ONLY)
PATIENT NAME: “Marka”
AGE: 20
SEX: F
RACE: Other
RELIGION: ?
BLOOD TYPE: ?

THE PATIENT EXPRESSES THE FOLLOWING AILMENTS:
Headaches/dizziness/loss of consciousness: Y
Stomachaches/nausea/loss of appetite: Y
Muscle pain/soreness: N
Pulmonary disorders/trouble breathing: N
Cardiovascular troubles: N
Gastrointestinal problems: N
Insomnia/lack of sleep: Y
Psychological trauma: Y
Physical/mental dysphoria: Y
Visual/auditory hallucinations: Y
Other symptoms: Y

EXAMINER’S NOTES:
Definitely the strangest patient I’ve ever had. In-depth medical exam impossible with current facilities and my unfamiliarity with alien biology. I will record my observations here as reference for any physicals at a later date.
>Health standards of patient’s species are unknown at this time and incomparable to ours. Heart rate is noticeably faster as are reflexes.
>Patient exhibits multiple side effects of traumatic stress. She claims that she was brought here unknowingly and her condition and behavior back up this claim. I cannot prescribe any medications to patient, as they could have adverse effects on her bodily systems.
>I have discovered traces of several microscopic surgical incisions along patient’s hardened shell. Patient claims that her body has been modified, suggesting cybernetic implants. MRI INADVISABLE.
>Patient’s anatomy resembles a few common Earth insects, hard shell combined with soft underbelly. Compound eyes and sensory antennae are present as well. Small emitters line the patient’s back, which could be pheromone-based, either for deterrence or attraction.

DIAGNOSIS:
Due to the multitude of unknown factors surrounding this patient’s case, I recommend no further examination or treatment of said patient. We have no choice but to keep her under observation and allow her to adapt to her surroundings. The patient seems to have established a friendship of sorts with one of our civilian contractors, which may provide a positive influence on the patient’s emotional wellbeing. These interactions should continue if her health is to improve.

DOCTOR’S SIGNATURE
D. TRAVERS
PATIENT’S SIGNATURE
[left blank]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

INTERLUDE: Sleeping Gods

[NURCOZAN HOMEWORLD]
[HALSIGOR CANYON, 85,000 PACES EAST OF IMPERIUM CAPITAL]
[15TH DAY OF THE MONTH OF BLIZZARDS, 1642 [NURCOZAN CALENDAR]]

	The uneven winds dashed the falling snow against the walls of the barren gulch as the storm raged on. Darkened clouds above cast foreboding shadows over the already-gloomy surrounds, the white of the snow mixing with the ashen-gray of the canyon rock.
	Two watchers took up positions on a wide outcropping that overlooked the dry river valley below. Their hoods and cloaks flapped wildly from the chaotic gusts that showed no signs of stopping. The pair held their vigil regardless, focusing their attention on the laborers that toiled at the bottom of the gorge.
	Nurcozans, ever stout and muscular, moved quickly along the canyon floor, engaged in a variety of tasks that ultimately contributed to a single goal. The echoed shouts of foremen could be heard as they directed the multiple teams of workers in the dig site. The diggers were dressed ragged clothing, barely enough to shield them from the cold. Black splotches of paint adorned their faces—around their eyes like a mask, as well as the very tips of their canid snouts.
	Their skin was pale with an off-yellow tint, making them stand out in the dull environment and differentiating them from the blue-gray complexion of the overseers and guards that directed them. It was obvious to anyone that they didn’t belong here, given that they originated from the much warmer southwestern isles.
	They most likely came here after the Imperium’s recent military engagements in the region. The more socially-minded would call them slaves. Being sent here and put to work was a small blessing, however, considering what happened to most of their soldiers.
	The means of labor were the least of the Marshal’s concerns. One of the scouts angled her monocular toward the large quarry that formed the focal point of the excavation.
	Most of workers were concentrated here, as the strongest of them picked apart stone while the rest carted the excess rubble away. Largely unearthed and sticking out from the quarry’s northern wall was the strangest sight she, or any nurcozan, for that matter, had laid eyes on. A behemoth of enormous size, laid to rest beneath the ground. She corrected herself; not a beast at all, but a gargantuan vessel of sorts, fashioned of a strange metal of the blackest night. The bulb-shaped ‘head’ was smooth and curved, with no dents or malformities to speak of. Its surface had a near-reflective sheen, as if polished a day before, despite spending ages lying dormant beneath a bed of rock.
	The Marshal observed the giant with breathless wonderment. It lay silently at a slight angle as the nurcozans worked around it, as if in a deep sleep. She suspected that the rest of it was still buried, with what the workers uncovered being merely a fraction of its entirety. Who knew how large it really was?
	The nurcozan next to her turned his head, his light brown snout protruding slightly from the darkness of his hood. He peered past her toward the narrow entrance of the canyon.
	“Unpunctual, he is,” he murmured. His partner lowered her scope to regard him. A thick, unkempt beard covered the majority of his muzzle. Judging by his accent, as well as the drooping ears hidden beneath his hood, she guessed that he hailed from the Imperium’s lower valley regions.
	“He will arrive on time, it is us who arrived early,” she replied, returning her attentions to the work site. She turned the monocular slightly, bringing her focus from the half-buried vessel to the site’s perimeter. She counted the guards she could see—nearly three dozen on the site itself; some on the ground with the slaves, some on watchtowers, more patrolling along the quarry’s upper levels and scaffolding. It was likely there were more on standby somewhere else. The light security was suspicious, given the importance of the excavation. It troubled her.
	“Look, up yonder,” her cohort said, looking through his own viewfinder. “above the beast.”
	She adjusted her view, moving as he instructed. A group of slaves were gathered on a wide upper step cut into the cliff wall, situated just over top the head of the vessel. The workers carefully rolled large barrels along the platform, embedding them in small holes drilled into the cliff, at the instruction of a foreman and a couple of guards. One slave unfurled conductive wiring from a spool, attaching each strand to a barrel.
	She recognized the contents of the containers as she focused in. Explosives, most likely to speed up the excavation. It seemed the Primarch was becoming impatient.
	A series of hoofsteps behind her broke her concentration. She swiftly turned around, as did her partner, noticing three of her fellow Marshals approach from a narrow slope that lead upward and out of canyon proper. The nurcozan at the forefront wore his hood down. He was an Imperial, just like her. His face was accentuated by a squared, elegant muzzle and piercing eyes, topped with pointed ears atop his head that poked out from his long strands of black hair. His skin matched hers—bluish gray, camouflaging them well with the cliffs.
	“Marshal Kessalahn, Marshal Gtassos,” he addressed both of them. “What news?”
	“No sign of the Primarch,” Gtassos reported as he moved to stand. “Are you certain he is to be here?”
	“Yes,” the Imperial said confidently. He calmly strode to the cliff edge, taking in the dig site. “He wishes to inspect the progress made here. Our sources said as much.”
	“Do we know who is to be made heir-apparent?”
	“The middle son, I venture to guess, but I cannot say for certain.”
	Gtassos scoffed at this revelation. “That is not ideal, Marshal Callitis.”
	“We have no better options at this point. The eldest follows his father’s ways and the younger one has a more artistic temperament. He would be useless as Primarch.”
	“The middle child is too ambitious, focusing on several things at once. He would bring the Imperium to ruin,” Gtassos argued with an irritated passion. “The youngest has a soft heart and an even softer head. He can be easily swayed, or pushed aside while the Synod makes the important decisions.”
	While they argued, one of the Marshals behind Callitis approached the cliffside, positioning his three-toed hoof atop a stone and resting his forearms on his knee. A painted snout peeked out from his hood; an Islander, same as the slaves down below. He looked down at them with barely-disguised dejection, none too pleased to see his people in shackles. The other nurcozan moved very little and kept her face entirely shrouded. Snowflakes began to accumulate on top of her hood and the shoulders of her cloak.
	“This vile family should have been wiped out generations ago,” Callitis brazenly stated, not taking his leering gaze off of the vessel.
	“There is still time,” Gtassos insisted.
	“We can argue politics anther day, time is of the essence.” Callitis turned to the second scout, still kneeling and ignoring the conversation behind her. “Marshal Kessalahn, what do we face down there?”
	“Two regiments of foot, roughly thirty-six, by my count,” she replied calmly. “Spears on the ground and musketeers positioned up higher.”
	“Each of us is worth ten of the lot,” the Islander stated, his voice a deep baritone. “Our odds against the Grand Entourage are also quite favorable.”
	“Very well. Marshals,” Callitis called to the four hooded nurcozans that surrounded him, each of them turning to him in rapt attention. “Our purpose is clear. Primarch Ytallyn has consolidated his power, engaging in bloody conquests that threaten the safety of the realm. Even now, he disturbs the very soil, in search of ancient technology abandoned by our Ancestors in times immemorial.” He motioned toward the black enigma lying in repose in the canyon. “Whether this monstrosity is a weapon or some other calamity, we cannot stand idle as this irresponsible use of our Ancestor’s legacy continues. We—”
	“This is not our ancestor’s creation.”
	The once-silent nurcozan lifted her head, allowing the faintest of light upon her face. With a shorter muzzle and a deep teal complexion, her features were representative of the swamp-dwelling nurcozans of the far west. Black painted circles surrounded both her eyes and cascaded downward like tears.
	“What say you, Marshal Nadredii?” Callitis asked. Gtassos crossed his arms impatiently.
	“This land has been plagued by dark omens ever since the earth was broken,” she explained. “They corrupt the Primarch who in turn corrupts his people. The forces he attempts to harness are powerful ones. Ancient, aye, but of nurcozan make they are not.”
	“Then, what are they?”
	Nadredii was silent for a moment. “…There are whispers in storied legends of all of our peoples. Not scripture, mind, but passed through oral tradition.” She now had everyone’s attention, except for Kessalahn, who continued her overwatch. “Nurcozans were not the first to achieve civilization. There were others before us, of another eon entire.”
	“The Old Ones?” Gtassos mocked. “They are a myth, nothing more.”
	“Any truth becomes myth if forgotten long enough,” she argued. “Just as their machinations were left discarded beneath our feet, they too faded into obscurity. The Old Ones were advanced in intellect and magick Their ways are beyond our capacity of understanding. Ytallyn plays with fire—he has no comprehension of what he covets.”
	“You swamp-kin are a superstitious bunch,” Gtassos said dismissively. “How could a race so powerful disappear without explanation, as you say, and leave their creations for us to find?”
	“Why does any civilization fall, Marshal Gtassos?” the Islander chimed in. “Hubris, greed, decay. The same fate awaits the Imperium if we do not act.”
	“Agreed,” Callitis said. “It is decided, then. Primarch Ytallyn’s schemes end here. We will approach him as he arrives, and offer him a chance to reform his actions.”
	“And if he refuses?” Nadredii asked.
	A dark cloud moved over the canyon and the snowfall became more hectic. “He dies.”
	“Attent!” Kessalahn called to them. “Movement, from the northern approach.”
	All eyes were now on the entrance to the gorge, some distance away. Through the fog and flurries the outline of a carriage came into view, being pulled by four beasts of burden, their forms hunched and lurching, with black fur covering their enormous bodies. Forming a perimeter around the carriage were nearly two dozen royal guards, a mix of male and female nurcozans, dressed in the regal colors—dark blue with silvered accents. Ceremonial halberds pointed skyward.
	“It is time,” Callitis announced. “Marshal Kessalahn, hold your position here and provide us with fire. Marshal Gtassos, make way to the other end of the canyon and do the same.”
	The two scouts acknowledged his orders. Gtassos unfolded a blanket they had set next to them, revealing two black muskets with scopes running the entire length of the barrels. He passed one to Kessalahn, followed by a folded tripod.
	“Marshal Nadredii, Marshal Hodewen, with me. I will lead.”
	“What are our rules of engagement?” Hodowen asked.
	“Ytallyn is mine. All guards are expendable—their lives will be sacrificed for the good of the Imperium, should it come to that.” Callitis reached behind his neck and pulled his hood up.
	“And the slaves? They will not survive without protection.”
	“Focus on the task at hand. We will worry about them afterward, not beforehand.”
	“So be it.”
	Callitis gave one last look to each of his brothers and sisters, to whom he would give his life, and each of them pledging the same. “Speed and good fortune, Marshals.” He pounded a closed fist twice against his chest, His fellows repeated the gesture, a series of thumps resounding against hardened muscle.
	Kessalahn had finished fixing her musket atop its tripod just as Callitis and the rest disappeared from sight, making their way down to the canyon floor. She tested the sweep of the weapon from her standing position; she had roughly a one hundred ten-degree field of fire, which more than adequately covered the entire length of the dig site. She need not worry about concealing herself. The fog from the storm combined with the camouflage of her cloak blended her against the dull gray of the cliffside, making her look no different than a large rock to the untrained eye.
	“I will signal you on the other side,” Gtassos said to her. He held his musket by the barrel at his side with the tripod slung atop his shoulder. “May you be fast and accurate.”
	“You as well.”
	The male nurcozan turned and quickly dropped to a ledge below, following a pathway the cut around the perimeter of the gulch. Kessalahn brought her eye to her scope just as the carriage came to a halt at the quarry’s entrance.
	A guardsman opened the door and out stepped the Primarch himself, clad in a cold-weather coat fashioned in his family’s colors. The nurcozan, of pure Imperial bloodline, had withered slightly with age, wrinkles abound his face and graying sideburns growing wildly. The lower guards already within the quarry stood at attention and any nearby slaves were made to kneel.
	Kessalahn watched through her scope as Ytallyn, with dignified grace, entered the site, gazing up at the unearthed vessel with an almost religious reverence. The head foreman met him and bowed, and the two exchanged words. The worker motioned to the ship and the Primarch continued his approach.
	The Marshal adjusted her aim to the other end of the canyon, to the ledges and scaffolding situated above the vessel. A solitary musketeer stood watch, with his attention focused solely on the Primarch that he did not notice the shadow creeping behind him. The stock of a musket struck the side of his head and he limply fell to the ground.
	Gtassos swiftly dragged the dispatched soldier out of sight, taking up the position in his place. He locked eyes with Kessalahn across the way and signaled to her in code. He brought his musket up in a shooting position and waved it left and right, and then raised his hand above his eyes as if blocking light from his vision, then held up two fingers.
	She understood him, bringing her focus to the canyon floor. Two guards stood atop watchtowers on either side of the site, watching the Primarch’s every move. She set her sights on the one closest to her, a female Imperial with short cropped hair. Kessalahn signaled back to Gtassos, splaying her fingers in acknowledgement and then pointed a subtle finger down below, indicating which target was hers.
	The blizzard grew fiercer, the heavy snowfall partially obstructing her view. Kessalahn kept her attention on the Primarch, who had come closer to the dormant beast, beginning the ascend a scaffold ramp leading to the behemoth’s front.
	Three shadowed forms revealed themselves from the top of the vessel. The first made a daring leap off the ship face. The platform buckled as Callitis’ heavy hooves impacted with the wood. The other two followed suit, landing to his left and right. The lead Marshall rose from his crouch with an almost terrifying calmness, a stoic frown showing from the darkness of his hood.
	The Primarch froze in surprise at the shrouded figures who obstructed his path. The royal guards rushed forward immediately, pikes drawn, and formed a perimeter around their liege. Ytallyn narrowed his eyes in contempt as he realized who they were.
	“Marshals,” he growled.
	“Primarch Ytallyn,” Callitis heeded him in response.
	Kessalahn watched the two parties in deadlock below. She kept the Primarch, the Marshals, and the tower guard all within the focus of her scope. She quickly pulled her eye away, shooting a glance at Gtassos, who had since readied his musket and tripod. She returned to the scope, pulling the musket’s hammer back.
	“What is the meaning of this?” Ytallyn called out behind his guards.
	“An impasse, sire,” Callitis said simply.
	“Do you intend to kill me?” the Primarch asked with not an ounce of fear in his voice.
	“That depends on the decisions you make within the next few minutes.”
	Ytallyn’s expression angered as he grew impatient. “Explain yourself, Marshal, before I have you cut down.”
	Callitis was unfazed by this idle threat. “We have observed the recent ripples and tremors made within this realm of late, fulfilling our age-old role as silent watchers. However, there are rare occasions in which we must intervene. We have watched as you cut bloody swaths across the land with impunity, as well as dig below it in search of forgotten relics. We issue an ultimatum, Primarch Ytallyn: abandon these vain ambitions, and the Marshalcy will not pursue you further.”
	“Is that a threat, Marshal?”
	“Nay, it is a promise.”
	The Primarch stood firm. “Do you not realize what lies before us?” he asked the Marshals, gesturing to the vessel.
	“Do you?” Callitis asked.
	“Is it not obvious? It is a gift from our Ancestors.”
	“You are mistaken, Primarch,” Nadredii spoke up. “This vessel belongs not to the nurcozans of old, but of far more ancient beings, lost to time. Malevolent auras surround it. You dabble in forces you cannot hope to comprehend.”
	“What nonsense,” Ytallyn exclaimed. “Are you Marshals so desperate to march in the way of progress?”
	And what, pray tell, is your idea of ‘progress’?” Hodowen cut in defiantly. “To subjugate us to your every whim? Would you use these bygone instruments to attain this?”
	The Primarch levelled a glare at the Marshal, obviously enraged that an Islander was speaking to him this way. “You misunderstand completely. I intend to use these gifts to uplift the nurcozans.”
	Callitis looked at him in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
	“This vessel? Merely a means to an end,” Ytallyn elaborated. “It is capable of extensive flight, not only through the skies, but the very heavens themselves. Once in serviceable condition, it will deliver us to the furthest reaches of the cosmos. It is the final frontier for the Imperium, and this vessel is the key.”
	“So, our suspicions are affirmed,” Callitis said. “You have gone mad, Primarch.”
	“Wrong, Marshal. There is a reason you and yours have fallen so tragically from grace while the Imperium stands as strong as it has ever been. The Marshalcy—once a proud military order held to high esteem. What are you now? A renegade band of spies and cutthroats. You lurk in the shadows, covering your faces, ashamed of who you are and what you have become! What right do you have to roam the land, killing whom you please with no consequence?”
	“We’ve a sacred oath, to shelter the Imperium from any threat,” Callitis said. “Be the threat internal or external, we intend to uphold this vow.”
	“You murdered my uncle,” Ytallyn shouted accusingly.
	“Not I,” Callitis replied, “but Lord Ushallet was guilty of many crimes. His death was…excessive, yes, though not entirely undeserving.”
	The Primarch’s rage was barely contained. He drew his weapon from the sheath on his hip, a single-edged blade with elaborate engravings along the side.
	“Enough of this prattle. This stalemate has outlived its welcome. Either step aside or my guards will make short work of you.”
	Calltis observed each of the guards, who stood their ground around Ytallyn. The Marshal could practically smell the fear that radiated from them, despite their best efforts to conceal it. All of them knew who the Marshals were and what they were capable of.
	“We are not at a stalemate,” he stated calmly. “We are at an end.”
	With one quick yet subtle movement, the lead Marshal launched a small knife from behind his cloak. It flew straight and true, passing the tiny gap between two guards and impaling itself within the Primarch’s shoulder. Ytallyn howled as he dropped his weapon.
	A thunderous crack echoed through the canyon before the guards could process what had happened. The sentry stationed atop the watchtower fell sideways as a miniature ball struck the side of her head, azure blood fountaining from the wound. Another crack resounded not a second later. The musketeer in the second tower dropped his weapon as he brought both hands to his throat, struggling to stem the merciless flow of his life force from his gullet.
	The Marshals below drew their weapons hidden beneath their cloaks; curved shortblades, polished to mirror sheens and sharpened to maximum lethality. Without hesitation, the three of them charged the column of soldiers as the latter pushed the wounded Primarch further behind them, with the rear guard coming forward and creating a more formidable defensive line. A wall of spears met the attackers, with more extending over the shoulders of the guards in front.
	Callitis produced another small knife, throwing it by the blade dead center into the phalanx. The weighted handle gave the projectile enough momentum to pierce the skull of the centermost soldier in the line.
	Taking advantage of the newly-formed chink in the formation, Callitis dodged and weaved past the thrusting spears, inserting himself where their range became useless. Within seconds he dispatched two more guards, his blade slicing and stabbing through their flesh, soaked in blood. The line broke in two.
	Nadredii and Hodowen picked away at their column’s right and left flanks, their opponents becoming less steadfast by the second. Nadredii buried her blade into the stomach of the young soldier in front of her, wrenching his spear from his grasp and turning it on the guard behind him. She buried the halberd’s decorated spearhead deep in her adversary’s chest. The female soldier cried out in agony as the Marshal flung the polearm aside with her still attached.
	Kessalahn had since unhitched her musket from its stand and had completed its arduous reloading process. An Imperial musketeer could reload their weapon in twenty seconds on average. Thanks to her Marshal training, she had the musket loaded and set back on the tripod just as the tenth second chipped away. She swiveled the gun up and to the left, locating a shooter situated on one of the overhead ledges across the gorge, whose finger tightened on the trigger as he took aim down into the chaos below.
	Hodowen took notice of the sights trained on him just as he incapacitated his third guard. In a split-second maneuver he pulled the wounded Imperial towards him and positioned his body within the musketeer’s line of fire just as sparks flew from the weapon’s breech and muzzle. The helpless guard grimaced as the ball entered his midsection. Hodowen eased his suffering with a smooth slice from his blade across the neck. He threw the dying nurcozan into the path of a charging spearman before focusing his attention on another.
	The musketeer up above was soon relieved of the upper portion of his head not long after. Kessalahn brought her musket back again, standing it muzzle-up for another reload. She surveyed the carnage unfolding as she ripped open a fresh cartridge with her teeth.
	Bodies in royal colors littered the canyon floor, with more joining them as the Marshals cut through the ranks and more reserve soldiers entered the fray. Her comrades fought as ferociously as ever, but she could sense that fatigue was starting to set in. She spotted Gtassos, still at his perch, his musket flaring as he sent another shot into the battle. He began to reload, only to see a team of musketeers approach from further down the ledge he was on. He dove to the ground as they discharged a volley, musket balls digging into the cliff wall.
	Kessalahn finished loading her weapon, returning the ramrod to its place beneath the barrel and bringing her concentration back to the skirmish below her. Her sights fell back on Callitis. Several dead Imperial soldiers lay in his wake as he sparred with two others, them being the only obstacle between him and the fleeing Primarch. A third guard charged him from behind, delivering a swipe with his spear across the Marshal’s unprotected back, ripping a noticeable gash through his cloak. Callitis stumbled but quickly recovered, spinning around counterattacking with a renewed fury. He swung his blade horizontally, the sharpened tip tearing open the soldier’s throat.
	Kessalahn shouldered her musket, thumbing the hammer backward. This fight could not last forever. It needed to end. And fast.
She peered down the scope, catching the Primarch making a break for his carriage, where the steeds bucked wildly in response to the fighting and noise.
	Placing her crosshairs a few meters ahead of his path, she squeezed the trigger and felt the familiar heat flash as the powder ignited. Her hearing gave out in one ear from the resulting thunder and her breath caught in her throat as she watched Ytallyn inadvertently run into the path of her shot.
	The Primarch’s hip shattered as the ball entered the left side of his pelvis. He yelled in excruciation, the force of the impact sending him pirouetting before he slammed into the mixture of dirt and snow. The ground turned a deep indigo as he bled profusely, forming a sickly trail when he desperately resorted to crawling.
	Kessalahn wasted no time preparing another shot. She scanned the dig site-turned-killing field for her compatriots. Callitis had finished off his opponents with little difficulty, withdrawing his blade from a soldier’s ribcage. Hodowen was further away, clashing with the remnants of the phalanx’s right flank, holding his own but clearly growing exhausted.
	Her eyes widened as she spotted Nadredii, who had sunk her blade into the throat of a guard kneeling before her, only for another guard to run a spear through her torso while she was preoccupied.
	The Swamp-dweller reacted visibly to her impalement, yet did not scream. Instead, to her adversary’s obvious shock, she gripped the pole of the weapon and drove it further into herself, the spearhead breaching through her back but bringing her closer to her attacker. The Imperial soldier was met with a strike across the face, sending him to the ground and bringing the Marshal with him.
	With the spear still stuck within her, Nadredii delivered stab after stab to spearman’s chest, only stopping once another guard rushed in and ran the Marshal through a second time.
	Kessalahn forced herself to reload faster once she realized how quickly they were losing control of the situation. An intense flicker of light caught her attention from the other side of the canyon. Near where Gtassos stood, returning fire at the musketeers that had cornered him, an explosive barrel, wired to several others embedded along the cliff wall, began to leak its lambent contents, either struck by indirect fire or some other happenstance. The body of the container glowed red hot as the volatile mixture within reacted to its exposure to the air, preparing to fulfil its intended use.
	Callitis swung his shortblade downward through the air, shaking it of excess blood as he approached the twice-wounded Primarch. Ytallyn withdrew a small, ceremonial dagger from his coat, his only defense against the hooded killer that strode toward him without stopping, his gray cloak tattered and stained blue. The Marshal reached the spot where Ytallyn lay, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting, effortlessly disarming the Primarch of his weapon.
	Callitis knelt over his prone form, several scratches along his muzzle seeping blood, his expression decidedly neutral in spite of everything that had transpired. Ytallyn returned his gaze, the old nurcozan’s face awash with a mix of anger and fear.
	“Do you yield?” the Marshal asked hoarsely.
	“You murderous blackguard-!” Ytallyn spat, groaning as Callitis purposefully set his weight on the Primarch’s wounded hip. “You will all be hunted down, this I swear!” 
	He howled as the Marshal twisted the knife still embedded in his shoulder.
	“Many have tried and failed,” Callitis growled. “The Marshalcy lasts eternal.”
	“Do what you will, it changes nothing,” the Primarch seethed. “The future of our race has been determined. With or without me, they will conquer the stars and plant our banners on foreign worlds, and you and your ilk will be left in the dust!”
	“Fantastical delusions are all I hear, ramblings of one who has taken leave of his faculties,” Callitis replied. “And the unsound of mind are to be removed, for the safety of all.”
	He raised his blade, ready to end it, when a blinding light flashed behind him, bringing with it a thunderous boom that shook the earth.
	Kessalahn shielded her eyes as the explosion burned her retinas. The punctured barrel set off a chain reaction of explosives set deeper into the cliff wall. She caught one final glimpse of Gtassos, his silhouette visible against the flare of the ignition before being engulfed by the resulting inferno. The fulminations split fractures across the face of the cliff, sending a tumultuous shower of rock and molten residue onto the battle that raged at the bottom of the gulch.
	The Marshal recovered as the canyon fell silent. She hastily searched the valley below, the newly formed dust cloud as well as the blizzard making it all the more difficult to see anything. She could barely make out the faint shadow of the vessel and the glow of several fires flickering along the remains of the cliff, but no signs of any movement whatsoever.
	Kessalahn unlatched her musket from its tripod, moving to descend into the valley. She dropped from her shooting position and slid down a steep slope, kicking up loose gravel. It grew darker as she entered the unnatural overcast of dust, ash, and snow, with only the faintest of light filtering in. She charged into the disarray, pulling the neckline of her cloak over her snout to help her breathing.
	The dig site was now a wreckage, filled with dust-covered equipment and broken scaffolds. Large fragments of rock formed an uneven surface on the ground, forcing the Marshal to carefully watch her footing. Half-buried, lifeless bodies stuck out from the rubble, the dark blue of the Imperial regalia contrasting itself from the gray of the surrounds. Kessalahn squinted to prevent the soot from catching in her eyes, searching for her fellows.
	She spotted a struggling form emerge from a jagged pile of rock to her right. The female Imperial guard coughed and choked as she limply crawled her way out of the rubble. The blue of her skin and uniform and her black hair were coated in a thick layer of dust, turning her an ashen gray as if a walking corpse. She looked up despondently at the hooded figure that stood before her.
	Kessalahn’s musket cracked, briefly illuminating the area. The guard dropped dead, sprawled on top of a large stone, a fresh hole drilled into her forehead.
	The Marshal spun herself around, attempting to regain her bearings, with the ill-defined outline of the black vessel as her only reference point. The Primarch’s carriage had disappeared—the crew of animals pulling it had no doubt fled the chaos. Kessalahn marched toward where she assumed it was before, in the hopes of finding Callitis, and Ytallyn along with him. Concerned as she was with the safety of her brothers and sisters, her mission took precedent; she had a body to find.
	She scanned her surroundings carefully, seeing only gray and the occasional Imperial soldier strewn about. Frustration welled within her as she started to turn over the corpses on the slightest possibility that the Primarch was hidden underneath.
	After several unsuccessful minutes of combing through each body, she was prepared to start digging through the rubble itself before she spotting another nurcozan—a hooded one—slowly inching himself along the debris-covered ground.
	She approached cautiously, hailing him once she recognized him. “Hodowen.”
	The Islander collapsed on his back, looking up at her. “Kessalahn,” he replied, relieved to see her, the both of them forgoing title and addressing each other as friends would. Her heart sank as she regarded the rest of him; his left leg was visibly crushed at the knee, bent at an unnatural angle and leaving his hoof unresponsive. He moved to sit himself up. Kessalahn rushed to him.
	“Stop,” she told him, “you are hurt.”
	“All pain is temporary,” he grunted. His hood fell behind his head as he lifted it, revealing his yellowed skin and browned, mussed hair, both sullied by the gray canyon dust. He looked frantically around the valley. “Where is the Primarch?”
	“I do not know.”
	“We have to find him-!” he insisted, trying to pull himself upright again. “Our mission stands—he cannot leave this canyon!”
	“I SAID lie still,” Kessalahn shouted, pushing him back down on his back. “I will track him. He could not have gotten far in the state he was in.”
	Their conversation was interrupted by a low humming noise. It grew louder by the second, resonating not only the canyon but through their very bodies, unsettling their nerves and shaking their bones. Hodowen looked to his left, his eyes widening. Kessalahn followed his gaze, looking behind her.
	What looked like a blue candlelight flickered through the dirty fog. Soon joined by several others, the lights winked dimly before growing brighter and more intensely until forming a solid constellation along the façade of the vessel.
	The ground shook again and the dust billowed away from the awakened beast. The two Marshals shielded their eyes as the floating debris flew in their direction. The tremors grew stronger as they heard the cliffside begin to splinter.
	“Damnation,” Hodowen muttered dreadfully. “We are too late.”
	They cringed as the behemoth suddenly gave an ear-splitting shriek, weakening the stone and dirt that still buried it. It began to slowly rise, breaking through the very earth.
	Kessalahn dropped her musket, grabbing Hodowen by his arm and hoisted him up. “Hurry, let us away!”
	“What of Ytallyn?” he asked, managing to stand, balancing his weight on his still-working hoof. Kessalahn wrapped his arm over her shoulder, allowing him to lean on her.
	“Ytallyn be damned!” she shouted. “We must leave!”
	She hurried in the direction of the canyon’s entrance, with Hodowen hobbling quickly alongside her. They dared not look behind them as they felt the foreboding presence of the black monstrosity as it dug itself out of the earth and ascended. The glowing lights extended back across its elongated body. It let loose yet another terrifying screech, echoing through the gulch.
	Kessalahn noticed faint flashes cut through the thick storm clouds that hung above. A black shape manifested through the overcast, followed by another and then two more. Soon they broke through the clouds entirely, descending on the land as if a levitating fleet of warships.
	“Black hell, there are more of them!”
	“Ytallyn, that craven son of a whore-!” Hodowen yelled. “What scourge has he unleashed upon us?”
	“We need to warn the other Marshals,” Kessalahn said. "Perhaps we can—”
	Her entire world turned white as a blinding flash corrupted her vision. She felt herself go still as her feet suddenly failed her, falling forward and losing her grasp on Hodowen. A numbness pervaded her and she lost control of her senses wholesale, slipping into a semi-conscious trance.
	Kessalahn tried to fight it, but it was as if her body worked against her. As a Marshal, she was a natural fighter, but how could she fight against an enigmatic threat such as this? An impossibility.
	She reluctantly acquiesced herself to her fate, cursing the Primarch’s name as she did.

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ROYAL PROCLAMATION
FOR IMMEDIATE DISTRIBUTION TO ALL CRIERS WITHIN THE IMPERIUM AND IMPERIUM-CONTROLLED PROVINCES AND PROTECTORATES BEYOND

HIS MOST SUBLIME PRIMARCH YTALLYN OF THE MALATASIAN CLAN HAS ISSUED A DECREE, BLESSED BY THE SYNOD, TO ALL SUBJECTS OF THE IMPERIUM AND ALL BONDSERVANTS THEREOF.
DISCOVERIES MOST CRUCIAL HAVE BEEN MADE BY LEADING ARCHAEOLOGICAL AUTHORITIES THROUGHOUT THE LAND. RELICS AND CURIOSITIES LOST TO TIME, LONG SINCE BURIED BENEATH OUR VERY FEET. THE ADVANCED NATURE OF SUCH OBJECTS, AS WELL AS THE MATERIALS USED IN THEIR CONSTRUCTION, WELL SURPASSES THE FEATS OF THE EVEN THE MOST INTELLECTUAL MINDS OF OUR CONTEMPORARY AGE. IT IS BELIEVED, AT THIS TIME, THAT THESE MARVELS BELONGED TO OUR MOST DISTANT ANCESTORS, PRAISE THEM, AND HAVE BEEN LEFT FOR THEIR DESCENDANTS TO DISCOVER, SHOULD THEY PROVE WORTHY OF THESE GIFTS.
PRIMARCH YTALLYN HAS DECLARED THIS A MOMENTOUS OCCASION IN THE IMPERIUM’S GRAND HISTORY, AND HAS MADE THE FOLLOWING EDICTS, WHICH WILL BE LISTED FORTHWITH:

*THE ASSEMBLY OF THE MOST BRILLIANT MINDS IN THE FIELDS OF ARCHAEOLOGY, HISTORY, ENGINEERING, AND SCIENTIFIC THEORY FOR THE EXPRESS PURPOSE OF THE STUDY AND ANALYSIS OF THESE ANCIENT CREATIONS
*ALL LABORERS INVOLVED IN THE BUSINESS OF STONE, EARTH, AND METALLURGY, INCLUDING MINERS, STONEWORKERS, MASONS, SMITHS OF ALL KNOWN METALS, AND CRAFTERS ARE TO REPORT TO THEIR NEAREST IMPERIAL REPRESENTATIVE FOR REASSIGNMENT
*IMMEDIATE REVIEW OF THE GRAND MILITARY RANKS, AS TO BE PERFORMED BY THE PRIMARCH’S ELDEST, USHALLET THE YOUNGER. THOSE CURRENTLY ENLISTED OR IN TRAINING WILL RECEIVE REVISED ORDERS FROM THEIR RESPECTIVE OFFICERS WITHIN THE DAY OF THIS PROCLAMATION
*MANDITORY SERVICE AGE TO BE LOWERED BY FOUR YEARS. YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN SHOULD ENDEAVOR TO REPORT TO THEIR LOCAL ENLISTMENT MAGISTRATE UPON THE EVE OF THEIR SIXTEENTH YEAR OF AGE, IN THE INTEREST OF DUTIFUL SERVICE TO THE PRIMARCH AND THE REALM
*DIPLOMATIC EMISSARIES AND FIELD SURVEYORS TO BE DISPATCHED TO ALL CORNERS OF THE KNOWN AND POPULATED WORLD, TO SPREAD WORD OF THESE RECENT DEVELOPMENTS AND TO REQUEST THE AID OF DISTANT NURCOZANS BEYOND THE REALM IN THE PURSUIT OF OUR MOST NOBLE OF ENDEAVORS, WITH THE DOUBLE PRECEDENT OF SEARCHING SAID LANDS FOR ADDITIONAL ANCESTRAL REMNANTS AND SITES

THE AFORMENTIONED EDICTS HAVE BEEN ISSUED BY THE MOST ESTEEMED PRIMARCH HIMSELF, AND ARE SACROSANCT AND VENERABLE LAWS THUS, TO BE ENACTED HENCEFORTH. HE REMINDS ALL IMPERIAL SUBJECTS TO BE STEADFAST IN THEIR DUTIES, UNITED IN THE ASPIRATION OF THIS NEWFOUND CAUSE, UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYES OF OUR ANCESTORS.

WRITTEN, SET TO TYPE, PRINTED AND DISTRIBUTED BY THE IMPERIAL OFFICE FOR THE RELAY OF PUBLIC INFORMATION, 24TH DAY OF THE MONTH OF CLOUDLESS SKIES, 1642.

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