is it coming with that door?” he shouted.
No sooner had Mikhail asked the question, Hemingway and Reed leapt back from the door as it slid up into the ceiling. “It’s open and we’re clear!” the American captain said.
Mikhail spun back to the firefight. Nikolai, Nina, Sevastian, and Sparks were suppressing what were now four distinct sources of alien weapons fire coming from around the corner far ahead. Moments later, four became three, as one of Nina’s pistol rounds plugged an alien dead center in its throat the instant it showed its head.
Unclipping a grenade from his belt, Mikhail ripped out the pin in his teeth. “Now pay attention to this ,” he murmured, hurling the grenade down the hallway. As it bounced toward the corner, the three remaining aliens held their fire. “Everyone, come!” Mikhail shouted, motioning for them to follow through the lower-side door. “Same position—Nikolai, up front!” They reassumed formation just as the aliens opened fire again. But the extraterrestrials’ offensive was short-lived, as Mikhail’s grenade erupted in the hallway. The walls trembled amid the sound of reptilian screeching. Mikhail didn’t bother looking back. Whether the three around the corner were wounded, dead, or dying, the humans were now officially a force to be reckoned with. That was all that mattered.
The seven-man team was now hustling down a new hallway—the downward angle at which they traveled adding to their momentum. The hallway seemed identical to the one the aliens had been covering in the opposite direction. There was a sharp, ninety-degree turn to the left that Mikhail could only assume led further into the ship’s center.
One of the hallway doors they were passing opened—the entire group flinched and aimed their weapons. Standing in the open door frame was a single gray alien. It gazed at the group with its opaque, bulbous black eyes.
Sparks, the nearest soldier to the creature, grabbed it by its uniform and shoved it straight into the room. Mikhail followed the Green Beret inside. “Lukin, Reed, watch the hall!” The two men complied as Mikhail, Hemingway, Sparks, and Nina surrounded their gray captive. Sevastian propped himself against the wall.
Though frail in build, the gray alien was almost more horrible than the reptiles. It was almost— almost —humanlike. That borderline similarity was downright disturbing. Even amid the instinctive nature of combat, the insanity of what they were facing had never escaped Mikhail fully. These were beings they’d never seen before—that humans had never seen before. They were freakish. In many ways, they seemed wrong. But there they were. There was an impulse in Mikhail to strike at the gray alien. To beat it repeatedly, incessantly. He recognized it mostly as fear. And so it was restrained.
“What do you want here?” asked Mikhail sharply in Russian, as if the alien would understand the question. The inquiry was more emotional than rational. These beings were on their planet. The desire to know why was overwhelming, even if it led to the asking of unanswerable questions. His language returned to English. “Why have you come to us?”
Nikolai watched from the doorway. “Why don’t you try French? Maybe he understands that.”
“Zatknis,” spat Nina.
“He understands me,” Mikhail said, glaring at the alien face-to-face. “You understand me, don’t you, demon?”
Stepping back, Hemingway said, “We should kill it.”
Mikhail didn’t want to kill it. Not yet. “Did you think we would roll over and die for you? Did you think we wouldn’t fight back?” These were things he needed to say. Things he needed to release. He was pulled away from his daughter for this creature. He could die and leave Kseniya with only a memory of her father because of it. “We will destroy you all.” Now he was ready. “Kill it,” he said to Hemingway, standing and taking a step away. Hemingway aimed his pistol.
The sensation struck
No sooner had Mikhail asked the question, Hemingway and Reed leapt back from the door as it slid up into the ceiling. “It’s open and we’re clear!” the American captain said.
Mikhail spun back to the firefight. Nikolai, Nina, Sevastian, and Sparks were suppressing what were now four distinct sources of alien weapons fire coming from around the corner far ahead. Moments later, four became three, as one of Nina’s pistol rounds plugged an alien dead center in its throat the instant it showed its head.
Unclipping a grenade from his belt, Mikhail ripped out the pin in his teeth. “Now pay attention to this ,” he murmured, hurling the grenade down the hallway. As it bounced toward the corner, the three remaining aliens held their fire. “Everyone, come!” Mikhail shouted, motioning for them to follow through the lower-side door. “Same position—Nikolai, up front!” They reassumed formation just as the aliens opened fire again. But the extraterrestrials’ offensive was short-lived, as Mikhail’s grenade erupted in the hallway. The walls trembled amid the sound of reptilian screeching. Mikhail didn’t bother looking back. Whether the three around the corner were wounded, dead, or dying, the humans were now officially a force to be reckoned with. That was all that mattered.
The seven-man team was now hustling down a new hallway—the downward angle at which they traveled adding to their momentum. The hallway seemed identical to the one the aliens had been covering in the opposite direction. There was a sharp, ninety-degree turn to the left that Mikhail could only assume led further into the ship’s center.
One of the hallway doors they were passing opened—the entire group flinched and aimed their weapons. Standing in the open door frame was a single gray alien. It gazed at the group with its opaque, bulbous black eyes.
Sparks, the nearest soldier to the creature, grabbed it by its uniform and shoved it straight into the room. Mikhail followed the Green Beret inside. “Lukin, Reed, watch the hall!” The two men complied as Mikhail, Hemingway, Sparks, and Nina surrounded their gray captive. Sevastian propped himself against the wall.
Though frail in build, the gray alien was almost more horrible than the reptiles. It was almost— almost —humanlike. That borderline similarity was downright disturbing. Even amid the instinctive nature of combat, the insanity of what they were facing had never escaped Mikhail fully. These were beings they’d never seen before—that humans had never seen before. They were freakish. In many ways, they seemed wrong. But there they were. There was an impulse in Mikhail to strike at the gray alien. To beat it repeatedly, incessantly. He recognized it mostly as fear. And so it was restrained.
“What do you want here?” asked Mikhail sharply in Russian, as if the alien would understand the question. The inquiry was more emotional than rational. These beings were on their planet. The desire to know why was overwhelming, even if it led to the asking of unanswerable questions. His language returned to English. “Why have you come to us?”
Nikolai watched from the doorway. “Why don’t you try French? Maybe he understands that.”
“Zatknis,” spat Nina.
“He understands me,” Mikhail said, glaring at the alien face-to-face. “You understand me, don’t you, demon?”
Stepping back, Hemingway said, “We should kill it.”
Mikhail didn’t want to kill it. Not yet. “Did you think we would roll over and die for you? Did you think we wouldn’t fight back?” These were things he needed to say. Things he needed to release. He was pulled away from his daughter for this creature. He could die and leave Kseniya with only a memory of her father because of it. “We will destroy you all.” Now he was ready. “Kill it,” he said to Hemingway, standing and taking a step away. Hemingway aimed his pistol.
The sensation struck
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