The Dead Planet

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Authors: Jedediah E. Dahl
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cloaks.”
    “Gækob that is nonsense…”
    Not this stupid comment again!  “No Captain, it is a stated fact in every single report sent from this forsaken backwater planet.  We’ve kept them ignorant.”
    I could barely make out Mævin’s face through his faceplate, but I could see all four of his eyes boring into me.  He had an agenda, and I was getting in the way.
    “Well, perhaps some caution is in order.”
    We all activated our chameleon cloaks.  First our heads shrunk from their beautiful elongated shapes down to small balls with stocky frames.  The Kælty are significantly more elegant than these Terrans, and it pained me to watch our forms change, even if it was only a holographic projection.
    “Let’s go,” the Captain led us off in the direction I indicated.
    We walked instead of leaping in order to blend in better.  My heat sensors were still blank but the motion sensors were picking up more and more motion with each step we took.  We turned a corner and saw a group of Terrans.
    I’ve seen a few photos of Terrans in the files, but these Terrans didn’t look right.  Their eyes were a strange grey color, an unnatural look for a Terran; hell, an unnatural look for any species.  Some seemed to be missing body parts, while others had bones sticking out of their dermal layers.  One or two had their ankles and feet twisted in ways that didn’t look right.  I looked at the chameleon displays of Gækob and Mævin to remind myself how this species was supposes to look, and it didn’t add up.
    They turned in our directions and started making the most curious noise, “rrrruuuhhhh!”  It was a sound you might hear if you punched someone in the gut and listened to them moan for an extended period.  It certainly wasn’t a natural sound.  They moved towards us at a quickened pace, though their speed was still no match for a Kælty.
    “I have a bad feeling about this, Captain.” 
    “Nonsense Lækas, maybe our translators are broken.”  They weren’t.  “Besides, they look friendly enough to me.”  Oh, sure, he should know, he’s a xenologist…
    Gækob cut in, “They look hungry to me.” 
    “Sir, we’ve both read the file on this indigenous species.  This is not how they look.  Just look at me and Gækob.”
    “Lækas, you know what they say about photos…”  He paused as he glanced at me.  “They never look realistic.”
    One of the Terrans approached Mævin with a lustful hunger in its deadly grey eyes.  He grabbed at Mævin’s arm.  My gut told me this wasn’t right.  We needed to get out of here.
    “Ah, this must be a greeting custom among these people,” the Captain said.  He let the indigenous person have his left hand and said, “ruuuhhhh,” in response.
    The Terran bit hard into Mævin’s wrist.  “Hey!  That hurt!”  Mævin lifted his gaze from the Terrn and locked eyes with me.  “Perhaps they are too primitive.  This is a weird greeting ritual.”  As he turned his gaze back around, he founded himself being dragged off his feet as three more Terrans grabbed hold of him.  His chameleon cloak faltered as they punctured through the suit.  Mævin emitted a blood curdling scream as they started eating every piece of flesh they could find.
    “Shit! Captain?”  I yelled.  My heart starting racing as more Terrans entered the ally. 
    Gækob moved with quickened speed with his pistol at the ready.  He fired into the crowd trying to save the Captain, though it was already too late.  The electrical energies of the gun knocked a few back, but didn’t seem to pack its normal punch.  As soon as one was knocked away another took its place at the dinner table.
    Unfortunately, Gækob was so focused on trying to save the Captain; he didn’t notice the Terrans surrounding him.  I tried to warn him, but was equally distracted shooting the Terrans advancing on me.  I looked back to check on him and saw he’d become a meal for a half dozen Terrans.
    My

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