(My apologies for the typo in the title, by the way. This is the first chapter in a novel I'm writing, so let me know what you think. Just be warned: This ain't a pleasant story by any way, manner, or means.)

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Duncan Grimm sat in the landing craft, watching the noxious brown clouds swirling around outside. The planet Calthan’s atmosphere was caustic and suffocating, and was already eating away at the jet’s paint. Feeling extremely glad that a three-inch pane of glass separated him from the cloud, he lounged back in his seat as much as it would allow. The other five members of his squad sat in the row beside him, their expressions showing they were clearly uncomfortable in their battle-suits. He could hardly blame them; Mk. 9 assault armour was a life-saver in combat, but it was a nightmare to wear for extended periods of time.
“Our ETA to Calthan Alpha’s around two minutes,” said their pilot, speaking through the intercom, “Get yourselves organised.” Their squad leader, Captain Alan Tiernan, sat up.
“Well, you heard the man. Helmets on, stow your weapons, and check your chutes. And I emphasise the last one. I’d imagine you don’t want to splatter yourselves against the dome’s surface, and I sure as hell don’t want to clean up the mess. Or do the paperwork, for that matter.” He winked at them and slid on his helmet. It hissed as it clamped itself to the body of his suit. The squad did likewise, ensured their weapon bags were secure (to avoid exposing them to Calthan’s atmosphere on the way down), and made sure their grav-chutes were in full working order. The pilot announced that they were over the drop zone, and opened the troop bay’s hatch. A blast of acidic rain and foul-smelling air blew into the cabin. Tiernan signalled for them to jump. Grimm went first. He hurled himself out of the jet and into the maelstrom.

The sheer force of the wind took him by surprise, and nearly sent him spiralling off course. He used his chute’s jets to steer him back on course, and aimed himself at Calthan’s main habitation dome, Dome C-756, or “Calthan Alpha”. The miles-wide grey surface of the dome was just about visible through the cloud, a grey blur thousands of feet below. Grimm’s pulse was racing, and his breathing was quick and shallow. He’d made dozens of jumps like this before, but there was always going to be fear associated with it. The conditions of the jump weren’t helping either. He saw a black form streak by him, and noticed that it was moving too fast towards the dome. Grimm prayed it wasn’t one of his squadmates. He decided to ignore it for now and focus on landing where he was supposed to. The dome had four docking bays, each one corresponding to a compass point, and they were heading to the eastern one. The dome was clearer now; Grimm could make out its designation number on the side of the dome, in huge black lettering. 756. Captain Tiernan ordered them to deploy their chutes, just a few hundred feet from the docking bay. This was the tricky part. Any idiot can make the initial jump, but the landing part is another matter entirely. Especially when the landing zone is thirty metres wide, and you’re landing in storm-force winds. Grimm used his jets to steer himself onto the landing bay, and shut them off five metres above it. He hit the ground, rolling to absorb the impact, and turned to see if any of his squadmates had made the jump. Lieutenant Bale was standing just a few metres to his left, dusting himself off. He turned to Grimm.
“Nice work, Grimm.” he said, his voice so thick with sarcasm you could have spread it on toast, “Good job on nearly splattering yourself there.”
“Coming from you, that’s pretty rich. Considering how fast you were going there, I’m surprised you’re not a veneer on the duracrete.” Bale snorted.
“That’s a little thing called skill, Grimm,” He said, idly inspecting his gauntlet. He looked straight at Grimm. “Something you lack in a few areas. Or so I’ve heard.” He laughed.
“I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt.” Grimm said, “Give the posturing a rest, Bale. It’s embarrassing to listen to.” Before Bale could compose a reply, Tiernan landed between the two of them, followed by Scout-Sergeant Crowe and her spotter, Trooper Curtis.
“Well, now that we’re all present,” said Tiernan, “how about we head in?” He unbolted the access hatch in the docking bay floor and dropped in. He gave the all-clear, and the rest of the squad followed. Grimm landed on the metal grating below with barely a sound, thanks to the sound-reducing soles of his boots. They worked on a similar principle to an elephant’s foot pads, and their soft, springy surface made them nearly useless for kicking and stamping, but very useful for staying undetected. A keypad-locked door blocked entry to the main body of the docking bay. Tiernan typed in a long string of numbers, and the door hissed open. Coalition Special Operations had a back door into all Coalition security systems, including those of high-ranking government officials. When it came to the CSO’s judgement, nobody was above the law. Grimm walked into the bay after Tiernan. The only light came from flickering fluorescent strips set in the roof. Three empty merchant ships lay in the hangar, a fine layer of dust covering their hulls.
“Unpack your weapons.” Tiernan said. “The distress call didn’t give any details about the state of the city, so there’s no knowing what we’ll encounter.” Grimm unstrapped his pack and pulled out his rifle. It was a Linear Induction Rifle Mk.22, a weapon that used magnetic impulses to fire caseless rounds at super-high speeds. Since they were far too big for a normal human to carry, only the CSO used these for infantry combat. He then slipped his pistol into its holster and strapped his knife to his hip. Tiernan ordered them forward. Grimm crept through the hangar, keeping to the cover of the ships and their resupply lines. He reached the emergency exit, which lead to a flight of stairs. The lights were out here, so he switched his visor filter to low-light. He walked down the stairs first, keeping his rifle lowered. He reached the foot of the stairs, and walked into the entry hall of the docking station. It was completely deserted, and the grey light of the city-dome cast everything in a dim glow. The hall was oddly clean, with no clutter or detritus on the desks or chairs.
“Something’s not right here.” said Grimm. Tiernan nodded gravely.
“Let’s keep going. Watch yourselves, and keep in contact.”

Grimm emerged into the city of Calthan Alpha, and was immediately struck by the silence that surrounded him. No cars drove down the streets, and no trains were running. These were deeply odd circumstances, no matter what dome you were talking about. There were no pedestrians in sight either. Grimm’s grip on his rifle tightened. He walked on, taking note of his surroundings. It had been seven weeks since the distress signal; what had happened in that time? Grimm ran to the end of the street, making very little noise for a man in powered armour. He took a left, and saw something that he genuinely hadn’t been expecting. An eerily silent traffic jam lay ahead of him; four rows of abandoned cars, their doors left wide open. This odd little sight disturbed Grimm far more than it should have. What the hell was going on here? He walked through the rows of traffic, focusing on the rows of empty high-rise building around him. It felt like being a deeply unfortunate rat in a scarily elaborate maze. He started seeing more and more abandoned cars as he got closer to the city centre, but not a single driver. They all seemed to be going in the same direction: to the docking bay.
“Sir, you might want to take a look at this...” He said, sending Tiernan a direct feed from his visor camera. He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I do know this: This dome had a population of six million people before the distress call, and in the space of almost two months it’s seemingly gone down to zero. This makes no goddamn sense… I mean, how do make six million people disappear?” Grimm was silent.
“Grimm, I want you and Bale to check the hospital and the corpse recyclers. Maybe you’ll find someone there.” Tiernan said.
“Oh, thank you ever so much,” Grimm said flatly. “You know how much I love visiting the corpse recycler.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Tiernan said in an overly deadpan voice, “You’ll be fine, Grimm. The dead can’t hurt you. Hence why I prefer them to a good few of the living.” Grimm turned on his heel and walked towards the hospital.
“You and me both, sir. You and me both…”

Dome C-756 Municipal Hospital was a massive, imposing piece of work: all white brick and glass. It stretched up for ten storeys, and went almost as far underground. The recyclers were on the bottom floor, just below the morgue. The cadavers from the morgue were used to help fertilise the algae vats that sustained the still-living. A grim process, but a necessary one. Bale was already waiting at the hospital, leaning nonchalantly against the wall beside the great glass doors. He saluted half-heartedly as Grimm walked towards him. Grimm acknowledged him with a nod. Wordlessly, they walked into the hospital. Grimm kept his rifle raised and his finger just off the trigger. Shooting a civilian accidentally would be a rather bad move. He listened out for footsteps, and constantly checked for movement around him. The hospital’s main atrium was, like the docking bay’s reception, oddly clean, bar the scuffed and scratched floor. By this point, Grimm was unsurprised to see that the reception desk had no-one sitting behind it. He read the map just behind it, and turned to Bale.
“I’ll head to Virology and check the place out. How about you head to A&E?” Bale shrugged.
“Doesn’t really matter. I’ll see you back here.” He turned and stalked down one of the corridors, heading in the direction of Accident & Emergency. Grimm walked towards Virology, creeping through the stark, empty corridors. At one point he could have sworn he heard someone else’s footsteps, but he figured he was just imagining it. Virology was a mess, with clipboards and folders scattered across the desks and floor. Other than that, the place was as clean and devoid of life as the rest of the hospital. He started walking back to the foyer, keeping an eye out as he walked.
“Virology’s empty,” he said, “Just like the rest of this goddamn dome. Any luck with A&E?” Bale took his time replying.
“I’m not there yet. Just give me a second…” The sound of coughing came from Bale’s link.
“Bale, what’s going on?” said Grimm, starting in the direction of A&E. The coughing continued for a moment, and Bale answered.
“Just… Just come take a look at this…” he sounded shaken. That was what concerned Grimm the most. If Bale was feeling uneasy, he rarely sounded it. Grimm burst into the A&E department, and was suddenly hit by the stink of decay. He started coughing and retching. He switched his suit’s air supply to its internal tanks to avoid breathing in whatever was causing the smell.
“What the hell is that?” he spluttered.
“Come over here.” Bale called. Grimm walked a little further, and arrived at a poorly-lit white corridor. It was hard to make out shapes in the half-light, but he could clearly see Bale, and the black body bags lined up against the walls of the corridor. The lines stretched along the entire length of the hall, which must have meant at least fifty bodies. Old blood splatters marked the floor and walls, meaning that some extremely violent deaths must have taken place here. Bale had unzipped one of the body bags, and was inspecting the corpse. He saw Grimm walking towards him.
“Hey, Grimm, is it common procedure to shoot patients in Coalition hospitals?” An extremely puzzled expression crossed Grimm’s face.
“What are you on about, Bale?” Bale gestured for him to come over. Grimm switched on his helmet light and walked over.
“Look at this guy here.” He said, pointing to the rotten cadaver. “For one thing, he’s decomposed abnormally quickly. But he’s also missing about half his head, something that’s not usually associated with tissue necrosis.” Grimm looked into the body bag, and saw that some sort of high-powered round had blown the unfortunate soul’s skull wide open. Bale continued,
“This isn’t an isolated thing either. All the bodies I’ve checked here have the same sort of gunshot wound, delivered point-blank from a Dome Defence Forces assault carbine.” Grimm looked at Bale, feeling oddly impressed.
“And you said you missed the lecture on forensic investigation.” Grimm said, chuckling, and felt a slight twinge of guilt for joking about this situation. “The rounds are stuck in the floor, I take it?” Bale nodded.
“Okay then. Why would the DDF be shooting patients, though? Last time I checked, they were supposed to protect the weak, ill and helpless, not blow their heads off.” Bale shrugged, like he couldn’t care less.
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to keep moving. We’ve still got the morgue and recyclers to check.” He said, barely keeping the disgust from his voice. Grimm groaned internally, but still followed Bale downstairs to the morgue. It was the same story here; all of the bodies seemed to be in the advanced stages of decomposition, and many of them had gunshot wounds to the head. Had the DDF been mercy-killing these people? Had there been an uprising? Grimm didn’t know what to think at this point. They left the morgue, and headed for the recycler.

The recycler was, if such a thing was even possible, worse.

Grimm staggered from the recycler room, gagging. The recycler had stopped halfway through processing someone, a sight that really doesn’t bear describing.
“I’m starting to develop a real dislike for hospitals.” Bale said in his usual deadpan tones. Grimm laughed, partially out of nerves. He’d seen a lot of disturbing things in his time, but this topped most of them.
“Would you mind contacting Tiernan?” asked Grimm. Bale nodded. They let Tiernan know about the state of the hospital. The captain reacted pretty well, given the circumstances. He told them to go to the admin building in the city centre, and that he’d meet them there as soon as he’d finished inspecting the power station. Tiernan’s transmission started breaking up towards the end, making the link crackle with static. After saying something Grimm couldn’t quite make out, probably just a farewell, Tiernan ended the transmission. Grimm turned to Bale.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Bale nodded.
“For once, I completely agree with you.” He said dryly. Grimm led the way, climbing up the stairs to the ground floor. One floor away from the foyer, he heard a noise in the corridor beyond the stairwell. It was a sort of shuffling, combined with deep, rasping breaths. He held up a hand to stop Bale.
“What?” said Bale. Grimm shushed him.
“Do you hear that?” Bale listened for a moment.
“Yes, I hear it. A civilian, maybe?”
“Maybe. Let’s check it out. It might be an idea to leave the cloaks off. The poor bastard’s probably scared enough; he doesn’t need us materialising out of thin air adding to that.” Bale nodded quickly. Grimm pushed the door open, and walked into the corridor. He dimmed his flashlight, and cautiously crept through the hall. The glass screens that divided the rooms had been smashed, and in some places the floor was slick with fluid. Grimm raised his rifle.
“Hello?” he called. “Is anybody there? We’re from the CSO, and we’re here to help.” He heard several sharp intakes of breath.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” said Grimm. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.” He wished he could say that with complete sincerity. Shuffling footsteps came closer to his position, and he could hear the ragged breathing of the survivors approaching him. He looked at the source of the noise, and saw something that, to understate massively, surprised him. The being standing in front of him no longer looked human: its skin was rotting away in places, especially around the torso and face. It was wiry and almost skeletally thin, with a hunched posture. It looked straight into the glare of his flashlight, and it snarled. Drawing on his fine command of language, Grimm summarised the situation in a single word:
“Shit.”

The thing pounced at him, its bony frame belying its speed and strength. Grimm knocked it aside with the butt of his rifle, and fired a quick burst at it as it staggered. Hyper-velocity rounds tore its ragged frame apart, and it collapsed. The noise attracted more of these things, and they ran at the two CSO troopers. Bale turned to run, pulling Grimm with him. Grimm slammed the door shut behind them, hoping to create a barrier between them and the creatures. It turned out that they knew how door handles work. The things were fast as hell, and they clambered up the stairs at a worrying pace. Grimm burst out of the hospital, relying on his battlesuit’s assistance to keep ahead of the former humans. He ran down the street, heading for the city centre. He looked over his shoulder at his pursuers. Dozens of them scurried down the road, all intent on tearing him apart. A few of them attacked each other in their frenzy, biting and clawing at throats and eyes. Grimm stopped to fire three quick bursts at the horde, killing roughly four of the things. He could see Bale just ahead of him, doing his best to keep ahead of the ugly, rotting beings. More of them were appearing out of residential blocks, drawn by the noise.
“Sir, we’ve got hostiles!” he shouted to Tiernan. “Are you at the RV point?”
“I’m heading to the admin building as we speak. What sort of hostiles?” Grimm turned away from the horde and ran on.
“They aren’t like anything I’ve seen before, sir. They’re like humans, only rotten, wasting away. They’re still damn fast, and it takes pulse fire to kill them.” Tiernan cursed.
“Just focus on getting to the rendezvous, lieutenant. The area’s fortified, so we can hold them off from there.” Grimm rounded the corner, and the saw the admin building just ahead of him. It was a massive spike of metal and glass which dominated the skyline of Calthan. Duracrete barricades had been put up around it, with machine-gun emplacements set up at regular intervals. The armed forces of Calthan had obviously been prepared for this. Tiernan was manning one of the guns, and aimed down the iron sights at the approaching horde. He fired two four-round bursts, but they seemed to have little effect on the creatures’ advance.
“Grimm, get over here!” he shouted. Grimm vaulted over the ten-foot barrier. His battlesuit assisted his movement using electro-sensitive wires that expanded and contracted like muscles. This sort of jump was fine, but he couldn’t push the suit too hard or he’d wind up damaging it. He ducked behind the cover of the barrier instinctively, and grasped the handles of one of the other machine-guns. These were powder weapons: firearms that still used chemical propellant to fire their projectiles. The DDF still used them, but the CSO had long ago moved to using pulse weaponry. Grimm fired at the horde in quick, controlled bursts, trying to avoid hitting Bale as he neared. The creatures wouldn’t stop, and he heard Tiernan gasp.
“We can’t stay here,” he said. “We’ll be overrun. I’m going to call the Spectre and request evac, and we’ll just have to hold out till it arrives.” Grimm nodded gravely, and let go of the machine-gun. He popped a fresh magazine into his rifle, and waited for the things to get closer. He slid the other magazine into his belt, saving it for later. He did this instinctively; in urban battles, running out of ammo in the middle of a close-range firefight would get you killed, so Grimm always slid a fresh clip in when he could. He saved the half-empty ones for the times when he was stuck behind cover, and didn’t need to fire an entire clip at someone. Bale leapt over the barricade, and the three of them ran to the admin building. Tiernan called for Crowe and Curtis to head to the docking bay. They were going to need support if they intended on getting out of here alive.

After realising that the admin building was a terrible spot to try to hold, the three of them leapt over the barricades and ran through the streets to the docking bay. Grimm heard Tiernan cursing to himself.
“What is it, sir?”
“The dome wall and the storm are messing with long-range communications. I can’t reach the Spectre.”
“Are there any other methods of long-range communication in this city?” said Grimm, desperately searching for a solution.
“There’s the comms-mast, and the signal control centre in the admin building.” Tiernan looked back at the horde, which was currently swarming around the city centre. “The admin building’s an obvious no-go, but we might just make it to the comms-mast. Follow me.” Grimm followed Tiernan as he took a left at the end of the street, and made for the west side of the hab-dome. Grimm could see the comms-mast in the distance, glittering in the half-light.
“It’s going to take a while to send the distress call, so we’re going to need to hold these… things off in the comms-centre until the landing craft arrives.” Before Grimm could reply, a dozen of the creatures charged round the corner, their eyes and mouths wide open in a silent scream.

Grimm emptied a clip into the group, killing four of them with concentrated fire. Bale and Tiernan killed another six between them. The remaining two pounced on Grimm, clawing at his armour. Their teeth couldn’t pierce his armour, but those hands could probably tear off armour plates. He grabbed one’s neck and twisted it at an unnatural angle. It slumped and slid off him. The other one tried to pin his arms, and he struggled in its grip. He saw Tiernan’s hands drag it off him and slit its throat from ear to ear. It kept clawing at him, but after a few seconds it gurgled and lay still. Tiernan wiped his knife on the thing’s ragged remnants of clothing.
“Ugh, you are one ugly son of a bitch.” He muttered.
“And the dead thing’s no looker either.” Bale chipped in. Grimm flipped his middle finger at Bale.
“Come on, I’ll help you up.” Said Tiernan, pulling Grimm to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Grimm nodded, unable to speak for the moment. A shriek went up from the horde in the city centre. Grimm blanched.
“Let’s keep moving.” said Tiernan. He called Crowe and Curtis to let them know about the plan to use the comms-mast, and ordered them to stay put. Then the three of them turned and ran for the communications centre.

After a few minutes of sprinting through the no-longer-quiet streets, Grimm, Bale and Tiernan arrived at the mast. Grimm typed in the CSO entry code, and the trio of soldiers stepped in, barring the door behind them. The comms-centre was seemingly deserted, and the dimly lit entry hall was littered with papers, presumably scattered during some sort of struggle.
“Bale, I need you to guard the door,” said Tiernan. “Grimm, I need you to come with me.” Bale grunted and reloaded his rifle. Grimm followed Tiernan through the building, looking out for a computer console they could use to send a distress call. They found one on the second floor, covered in dust. Tiernan walked over and hit the power button. The console stayed off. Tiernan laughed bitterly.
“I guess I was being a bit too optimistic when I assumed the power was still on here.” He said. “Damn.”
“There’s an auxiliary generator in this building, right?” said Grimm.
“Hmm, on an isolated world like this there should be… Shall I check?” said Tiernan.
“Nah, we need you to signal them. I’m not used to this type of computer anyway. They’re a bit too primitive for me.” He said jokingly.
“Very well,” said Tiernan, turning back to the console. “See if you can get the generator started, and then we’ll be in business.” Grimm saluted and left the room.

He passed Bale on his way to the generator room.
“Any signs of those… animals?” asked Grimm. Bale shook his head.
“None so far. It’s odd that they’re just leaving us alone for now.”
“Maybe they’re distracted.”
“By something other than our sniper team? Not likely. But you might be right. The bastards are probably too busy eating each other to be of any harm to us.” Bale laughed harshly. Grimm laughed uneasily, and went on his way. The comms-centre was very well-lit compared to the hospital, something Grimm was quite grateful for. The huge windows presented some problems for the defence of this place, though: those things would probably smash right through if they tried. The generator room was two floors down, which meant he had to use the stairwell. He clambered downstairs and pushed open the door to the generator. Surrounded by coils of wire and assorted detritus, the generator stood there, a dull block of steel and stone. Grimm walked right up to it, and pulled the control panel open. The generator still had some residual power left, enough to power the mast for a few minutes at least. He started it up, redirecting the power so that only the consoles and comms arrays were receiving any energy.
“Is it working now, sir?” he said to Tiernan.
“It certainly is, lieutenant. Good work.” The captain replied. “Could you assist Bale while I send the distress signal?” Grimm walked back to the stairwell and started to make his way up to the entry hall.
“Will do, sir.” He heard a loud crash, coming from somewhere on the ground floor. With his rifle raised, Grimm raced up the stairwell. He burst out into the entry hall, and saw Bale spraying fire at a bunch of the creatures. Aiming down his rifle’s sights, he dropped one with a well-placed burst. He joined the melee at the broken glass door. The group assaulting them now was far bigger than the previous one, a seething mass of decaying flesh. They tried to swarm the two CSO troopers, but the narrow entrance made that almost impossible. They were forced to come in two at a time, which made their numbers slightly less intimidating. One of the creatures lunged at Bale and bowled him over, snarling and spitting in his face. Grimm turned to help him, and in that moment of distraction two of the other half-dead things pounced on him. Grimm had the oddest feeling of déjà vu. He headbutted one of them in the mouth, his reinforced visor beating its teeth. It fell on its back, screeching. Grimm pulled out his knife, flicked the blade out of its handle, and stabbed the second one in the windpipe. It died silently and hit the floor. With his rifle lying on the floor somewhere, Grimm switched to using his pistol. He administered the coup de grace to the fallen one, cutting it off mid-scream. Switching to fully automatic fire, he fired eleven rounds into the shrieking mob outside the door. He was about to pop in a fresh magazine when another few former humans burst in through the door. Their numbers seemed endless from where Grimm stood. Realising he didn’t have time to reload, Grimm threw himself at the creatures, stabbing and punching anything that moved. Their sheer weight of numbers started to drag him down, and his visor was so smeared with blood that he could barely see. He heard bones crunching, and felt a powerful pair of hands dragging him out of the fight. He heard Bale screaming curses at the horde, then the sound of an assault carbine firing on full-auto. Grimm pushed himself back onto his feet, and hit the “Clean Visor” button on the side of his helmet. His vision cleared, and he saw Bale cutting a swathe through the horde. Grimm scrabbled around onthe blood-slick floor, looking for his rifle. He found it thrown against a wall. He checked the clip, reloaded his pistol, and started firing into the mass of creatures. Grimm felt something grab his ankle. He looked down and saw one of the creatures he’d shot earlier trying to drag him down. Crying out in disgust, he pulled his foot away and stamped down on its arm. It stopped moving after that. Bale was starting to get overwhelmed, and was resorting to grappling with the things to stay in the fight.
“Bale, get back here!” shouted Grimm. Where the hell were Crowe and Curtis? Before Bale could reply, he was dragged down by the mob, and disappeared. Reciting the battle chants he’d learned during his training, Grimm systematically shot the creatures to bits, rarely missing a shot. He slid the empty magazine out of his rifle, and patted his belt for a full one. The creatures turned to look at him. He went pale. Five of them ran at him, screeching. Grimm charged right at them, catching the first one in the throat with his rifle butt. It fell, clutching its crumpled throat. The remaining four latched onto him, pulling at his armour. Grimm tried to knock them off, but they held on tenaciously. He grabbed one by the arm and slammed it to the ground, eliciting a satisfying crunch. He flailed his arms, trying to reach the things clinging onto his back.
“Hold still!” he heard Bale shout. He stood as still as a man in powered armour with three mutilated people hanging out of him could stand. Three loud cracks could be heard as Bale’s carbine blew the creatures off him. Reaching for his fallen weapon, Grimm muttered a quick thanks.
“Anytime, Grimm.” said Bale. The creatures seemed to have backed off a bit, and were now trying to size up the troopers. Bale fired a shot into the air to gauge their reaction. They just kept staring, with a strange, almost hungry look. Grimm started backing away, towards the comms-centre. Bad move. The creatures ran at him, their moment of calm long since passed. Grimm turned and ran back to the centre, hoping to catch them in the bottleneck of the doorway.
“Tiernan, how long until that transmission gets sent? We’re getting swamped out here!” he shouted over his helmet link.
“Just a minute,” the captain said. “This computer’s barely usable. The loss of power messed with its workings, so it’s phenomenally slow. The message should send right about… now.” There was a brief pause, then Grimm heard a triumphant laugh.
“Okay, the Spectre should get that message in a minute or so. Let’s get to the docking bay.” Grimm sighed in relief, but stopped feeling so relieved when he realised that to get to the docking bay, they were going to have to fight their way across the entirety of Dome C-756.

The three soldiers ran through the streets, keeping just a few steps ahead of the pursuing horde. Every creature in the city seemed to be after them now, forming a swarm of thousands, with every one intent on catching them. With the possible exception of the cannibalistic ones. The three men had tried climbing buildings to stay out of their reach, but the creatures were phenomenally fast climbers, which made the effort rather redundant. The rows of empty cars in the city centre slowed the horde temporarily, but they caught up quite swiftly afterwards. The docking bay was in sight now, its bulbous grey form standing out in the half-light. Tiernan yelled for them to keep going, and ordered the sniper team to provide suppressing fire (if such a thing existed against these things). The loud, distinctive bang of an LIR-S marksman rifle rang out, and several creatures died as the anti-materiel round blew through their ranks. They arrived at the docking bay and saw the two members of the sniper team, Lena Crowe and Andrew Curtis, lying prone on the ground, taking careful aim at the horde. Judging by the empty clips on the ground beside them, they’d been hard at work killing the creatures. They got up from the ground when the other three approached.
“Into the docking bay, all of you!” shouted Tiernan. Grimm needed no further encouragement. He shoved the front door open and ran to the hangar entrance, the others following close behind him. He unbolted the huge steel door, and held it open as the rest of the squad ran in. He went in last, slamming it shut behind him. Slumping against the doorframe, he let out a long, relieved sigh.
“The ship should be here any minute.” Tiernan announced.
“Glad that’s over,” said Bale. “What the hell were those things?” Before anyone could answer him, something heavy bashed against the door to the hangar.
“That door will hold,” Bale said confidently. A large dent formed in the door at the second blow.
“Or maybe not.” said Crowe. She turned to Tiernan.
“When did you say our drop-ship would get here, again?”
“It should be here by now…” Tiernan said uneasily. Another resounding clang came from the door as another huge dent formed. Grimm heard the roar of jets over the howl of the storm.
“How much would you be willing to bet that that’s our drop-ship?” he asked the squad. Bale elbowed his way past him.
“If I lose, what I owe you will be the least of my worries.” He grunted as he shoved the maintenance hatch open. Another clang sounded, and Grimm could have sworn he heard the sound of metal giving way. The other members of his squad clambered up through the hatch, leaving him to deal with whatever came through that door. The door was torn from its hinges by the creatures’ final charge, hitting the floor with a clang that hurt Grimm’s ears. Grimm pulled a grenade from his belt pouch and hurled it through the doorway. Figuring it was best not to hang around to think of a quip, he pulled himself up through the hatch and into the storm. He heard a low rumble, and smiled wryly. The landing craft that had dropped them in was hovering unsteadily at the edge of the docking bay ledge, its troop bay wide open. Tiernan waved him forward, and he took a running jump into the craft. His feet slammed into the metal floor of the troop bay, and he staggered. Steadying himself, Grimm pulled himself over to his seat. He slumped into it, listening to the screams of the creatures of Calthan.