"Prepare for entry."
Giving the command, he could hear the last remaining soldier behind him taking a deep breath over the radio earpiece.
When the Succession attacked, long-range communications inside the facility had been disrupted in the ensuing blackout. In the absence of orders from higher-ups, the third member of their small squad had left Observatory 16 to try and make contact with other installations. They had been waiting for a few days since he left with the ATV, rotating guard shifts between the two of them. The emergency generator in the vehicle bay that was their source of power for the first day, was now out of juice and left them in the dark.
Just now, the terminals inside the bay had lit up with a dim glow — a general reboot would come any second.
Taking their positions below the hatch, they had already suited up and a combat visor now covered their heads. One hand on the lever locking the hatch, his other held on to the ladder as they waited to make entry when the reboot completed. With an electrical hum, the lights in the shaft leading to the surveillance deck flickered on. Tightening his grasp on the lever, he spat out one word into the radio.
"Go."
Actioning the lever, it moved into place without resistance and the locking bolts retracted into the hatch door with a thud. Despite the weight of the hatch, the dark green combat suit's exoskeleton allowed him to fling the door open before his hand reached for the pistol holstered across his chest over the plate carrier. Silence occupied the deserted surveillance room above, broken by the loud clank the hatch made when it hit the floor.
Drawing the pistol, he started to raise his upper body through the opening. Sweeping the sights across the room, nothing appeared under the light that had returned to the compound. Only the various displays tracking the subjects roaming the ecosphere and the open door letting in the moonlight. The records and notes they kept now laid scattered on the floor.
"Clear."
"Copy — Following your lead."
He fully emerged from the hatch. Now in a corner of the room, his pistol returned to the holster on his chest while he took up the rifle that had been dangling at his side. Taking a knee, his aim kept shifting from the open door to the corridor. From the hatch his squad mate ascended the ladder and joined him in the room. Seeing him take up his rifle as well, the leader motioned for the corridor.
"I'll take the door, cover me."
With an acknowledgment, the other soldier went to take position at the corner of the corridor leading from the deck to their bunks. When he gave the leader a signal, the latter then crossed the room, heading for the door. Peeking out, the clearing was empty and only the pines swayed under the silver light. Closing the blast door, he turned the lever, feeling the bolts sink into the frame with a vibration. Long grooves marked the the wall on the right side of the door. As if a subject had tried to force its way inside.
"Water coming from the showers."
The soldier's call had the leader turn back to face the corridor. From this angle, he could now see the glint of water on the floor leading in towards the quarters.
-Click.
"On your back."
His gear must have clattered when he huddled up behind the other soldier, barely audible through the visor's enhanced audio receptors. They would enter and clear the rest of the compound. After the leader put one hand on the soldier's left shoulder they both entered the corridor, taking slow steps as they kept aim on the entrances to the bunks and the showers. When they arrived at the doorway to the bunks they paused. Then entered.
The soldier in front of him made a half-turn as he entered, sweeping from the entrance to the corner to the right by the door. He followed, keeping aim on the left throughout. Checking under the beds and within the closets hidden flush to the wall with as little noise as possible, they found nothing besides some disorder in their personal items. Moving to the showers, they repeated the same entry maneuver before searching every partition.
"Clear."
There was no one.
Their stance relaxed as their rifles drooped down to a resting position, heading back much more calmly to the surveillance deck. Stashing their rifles in the gun rack by the doorway, they could now take off the visor even if the rest of the combat suit would wait. When they took it off, hair was already sticking to their foreheads from sweat. The life-support it gave did nothing against the suffocating heat under the mask.
"Check the feeds and motion sensors. Succession dogs must have gotten in."
While the soldier tiredly sank in a chair to examine the video feeds from the days prior, the squad leader started to gather up the scattered documents. Even if he didn't look forward to an unpleasant reprimand, the intrusion would have to be reported before they could take a rest.
—Drip.
Looking at his feet, he had stepped into the water trail. Including in his report the fact that the enemy had had the leisure to wash while they waited below was perhaps not necessary. Following the water with his eyes, it seemed to veer off towards the communications interface in the opposite corner. However, the soldier spoke up at this instant, redirecting his attention.
"Yesterday 1711: Motion sensors surrounding the clearing were tripped. 1713: A single Succession soldier was caught on surveillance entering the clearing and heading for the compound. 1956: Same female soldier was seen leaving the clearing and tripped the sensors again."
"Are you sure? There's nothing else to report?"
"Sensors were tripped again an hour ago, but nothing came up on the video feeds. It should have been a subject passing by."
The leader's brows furrowed at the puzzlement his squad member showed to his reaction. He had expected a group of Succession soldiers taking shelter in their compound after being chased into it by any one of those creatures the labs had cooked up. A lone female soldier approaching Observatory 16 yesterday didn't explain the grooves he found at the door. His continued gaze seemed to prompt the soldier into hesitantly making a few additional remarks.
"I spotted some visual artifacts on the feeds, the blackout may have compromised the cameras… Sir."
"Keen searching the feeds— No, check on the subjects, I will make the report…"
The leader barely restrained a curse as his words faded in a sigh. He headed for the communications array; damage to the feeds would be another point to add to his report. Hopefully, the maintenance crew would be dispatched to resolve the problem quickly or more reprimands would follow.
—Click.
He shook his head before directing his gaze to the communications panel in front of him. In the reflection, heavy dark circles marked the skin below his eyes. He had not been able to sleep since the alert that rang through all comms channels the day the Succession attacked. The pulsing warmth he could feel at the back of his head supplemented the headache that had set after the vehicle bay went dark.
"Vitals have stopped for many subjects surrounding the lake to the north and one of the 5-11 raptor packs… Key Subject 6-04 "Croc" is still active in the lake."
"Just give me the situation on the key subjects, alright… They won't waste time on the rest."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, the leader rested his eyes for a moment. Staying in the pitch-black darkness of the vehicle bay had done a number on them now that power was back. Opening his eyes, there was some fuzziness to the comms display as he began to operate the controls. There was even a small black spot in his vision, slowly moving.
"Key Subject 6-02 "Tyrant" active near the grassland."
Entering his credentials into the fields required for the communications channels to open, the leader registered the information with a small nod. All the while ignoring the black spot. But it just kept moving, as his tired eyes fixated on it.
Growing a bit.
Rolling.
Stopping.
Elongating a bit.
Shimmering.
—Drip.
How could water…?
—Click
A sudden flash of shimmers reflected on the display before his neck was squeezed by a vice. The sharp focus his eyes regained in that instant went woozy in the next. A large and dark black arm popping out of nowhere across his throat in a fluid motion before ending in the nook of another disembodied arm. The figure-four hold of a blood choke.
His hands pawed at the black arms for a few seconds before training kicked in. Only, his arms slacked before the pistol on his chest could be drawn. The continued report of his subordinate felt increasingly distant as the crushing pressure kept mounting on both sides of his neck. He couldn't speak or warn him, as just a strained whisper escaped his lips.
True black spots now swam in the squad leader's vision as his body lifted from the ground, a tingle going through all limbs while his brain suffocated.
Before his tired vision tunneled down to a single spot of light.
And it all… stopped.