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One hour since people started disappearing.
Sloan furrowed her brow in concentration as she recounted the events of the past few hours aboard the Void Tyrant. This was turning out to be the fastest forming clusterfuck she had ever experienced. Six hours was all it took for them to be a floating duck for the Weeds to toy with. Six. A groan left Sloan's lips as that number bounced around in her head. She'd heard of how efficient the damn plants were, but this was far faster than any report they'd gotten their hands on.
With a deep breath to steady herself, Sloan turned back to the ragtag group currently holed up in a barricaded conference room lit by a few nearly-dead lanterns. The Void Tyrant was designated as a large research vessel— that is until the Affini showed up and some secret branch of the Terran government commandeered it for weapons testing.
The group scattered around the room were a pair of fellow researchers, some security personnel, and one of the ship's engineers. Most were quietly conversing or trying to rest. Samson, a junior researcher, was staring intently at Sloan. She always felt a little bad for Samson. His innocent, brown eyes always felt like they burned a hole in Sloan's professional exterior. She couldn't help but take him under her wing as they worked together. Now, all she could think was how did someone so young and bright get caught up in this mess?
"Doctor…?" Samson awkwardly scratched his blonde hair as Sloan realized they'd started a staring contest.
She cleared her throat and shook the thoughts from her mind, "Yes, did you need something Samson?"
Glancing around nervously at the others, Samson stepped closer to Sloan. "Do you have a plan?"
"Plan?" Sloan raised an eyebrow at him.
"L-like…what we're going to do next?" Samson was fidgeting nervously with his lab coat; he had been strangely adamant about keeping it on, even during this crisis.
"I'll tell you what we're gonna do." One of the security personnel— I think his name was Grey…something?— cut in before Sloan could answer, "We're gonna stop hiding like cowards," Samson shied away at the pointed comment, "and deal with this mess before it deals with us."
Sloan grabbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, "For the last time—"
"We barely have any food or water, doctor." Grey-something pointed to the small pile of discarded emergency ration kits sitting on the large conference table. "What's gonna kill us first? Dehydration, or them?"
"He's right." The other security personnel joined Grey-something's side. "It's a fact." Samson was standing fully behind Sloan at this point.
Grey-something smirked maliciously, "I thought you scientists liked facts?" The guard behind him snickered.
"But you don't even have any weapons!" Sloan gestured to their empty holsters, "This is a suicide mission."
"Look." Grey-something leaned in close— talking in a low, threatening tone, "It's suicide either way. At least with our plan we can have a chance." He pulled away, "And you let us worry about the weapon situation, I have it handled." and turned to face the rest of the room. "Listen up!"
The remaining two members of the ragtag group came to attention— one swiveling their chair to face Grey-something and the other, currently slumped against the wall, raised her hat from over her eyes with a curious, yet disgruntled look.
"We are moving out in t-minus 5. Pack up whatever you have and say a prayer to whoever you believe in. We are getting out of this hell hole one way or another."
The others looked like they were about to retort with concerns, but the remaining security personnel began barking forceful encouragement— harassing them into going along with the plan.
"We're not actually…" Samson whispered behind Sloan, "These guys are crazy, right? Y-you're not actually thinking of going out there…are you?"
Sloan groaned into her hands as she held her face in exhaustion. She couldn't remember the last time she had a full night's sleep— this situation doing her no favors. I knew the administration's enforced crunch time would come back to bite me.
"I think it's our only choice, Samson." Sloan turned to face him. "They're hellbent on getting out of here, and we have better odds if we stick together as a group."
Sloan watched what little remaining color was left in Samson's face drain away. "Oh, stars…" He looked like he was gonna be sick.
"Look, just stay close to me and I'm sure we can use the meatheads as distractions to get somewhere safer." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We're going to be okay."
With a deep breath, Samson's colored returned slightly. "Yeah, you're right. Just gotta…stay calm."
Now if only I could get myself to believe what I'm telling him. The next few minutes were spent gathering what little they had; just a few bags of random equipment and supplies, whatever they had in their pockets at the time, and flashlights handed out to select individuals— all three security personnel had one, then the engineer, and Sloan.
Before they knew it the security team were posted at the barricaded door, prepping to put their 'plan' into action. Grey-something called to the group, "Is everyone ready?" His fellow security personnel were the only ones to respond with any gusto, as everyone else gave half-hearted confirmations or just simple nods. "Good. Once we get out there, we are going to be moving hard and fast. Listen to my orders if you want to survive. This mission has incredible risk involved, meaning anyone that falls behind will be left behind." Seemingly satisfied with hearing himself talk, Grey-something braced against the door as his lackeys finished moving the rest of the barricade out of the way. "On my mark." The other two security personnel stationed themselves on either side of Grey-something, while everyone stood haphazardly behind them.
"Mark!" The doors burst open to the darkened hallways and the security trio wasted no time taking off, as if knowing exactly where they were headed. The others did their best to keep up. Sloan grabbed onto Samson's hand the moment they left the safety of the conference room— doing her best to keep him from falling behind.
The lightless hallways were filled with the sound of the group's footsteps and heavy breathing. Strange noises echoed distantly as they ran— metallic screeches, strange chittering, heavy crashes, and plenty of other unexplainable things. Sloan's iron grip was the only thing that kept Samson moving with the group as she felt him flinch and try to pull away at every sound, wanting to hide out of fear of being caught.
Things seemed to be going well, up until the group turned a corner and the fronting security personnel suddenly froze— their flashlight trained on something down the hall. As Sloan's flashlight joined theirs, she realized what had given them pause.
At the end of the hallway there was, what looked to be, a metal spine that snaked along the floor. As their flashlight's followed its path, it slowly curved up into a facsimile of a ribcage— albeit much more jagged. Two long, spindly arms extended from either side— ending in long, clawed hands. That alone was terrifying, but worst became revealed as their flashlights reached above the ribcage.
It was missing a head.
Almost as if the terrifying machine had been waiting for this realization, the ribcage suddenly jolted to life with a red glow. Split down the middle, vertically, the jagged ribs formed a mimicry of a fanged mouth. A dizzying screech emanated from its opened maw as it suddenly lunged forward with terrifying speed, dragging its claws along the walls and leaving deep gashes in its wake.
"GET TO COVER!" Grey barked, as the metal monstrosity barreled towards the group. The security personnel moved with practiced-grace out of the way. The engineer yanked open a nearby maintenance hatch and stuffed herself inside. Sloan budged a nearby half-closed door open, throwing Samson inside and quickly following suit.
The only one left floundering was the last researcher, stuck in a frozen fear response. Try as they might, no amount of shouting seemed to shake her from her state of shock. It was only until the horrifying robot was seconds away from her, that she suddenly began scrambling back to retreat to safety— but it was too little too late.
One of its massive clawed hands seized the terrified woman into the air. It stopped in place and spun to face the remainder of the group, almost like it wanted to show off its prize, before letting out another screech and opening its jaws wide. It consumed the poor researcher with one bite— its spiked teeth closing with a resounding crash! The monstrous figure suddenly burrowed into the ceiling, its long claws ripping apart the interior like it was made of paper, and disappear off to stars-know-where.
The group slowly began to relax, as the former sounds of ripping metal began fading into the distance, and tried to comprehend everything that had just happened.
"Samson, you alright?" Sloan whisper-shouted into the room behind her, eyes still fixed on the hole in the ceiling.
Samson didn't respond.
"Samson?"
As the tearing of metal fully ceased, a soft chittering from behind Sloan was exposed in its absence.
Sloan spun around in alarm, her flashlight revealing yet another terrifying sight. Samson was currently being embraced by an utterly alien figure. Two long, scythed arms with far too many joints locked his body against it while two smaller clawed hands held his head inside a mass of tentacles that originated from the end of a long, chitinous head lacking eyes.
"Samson!" Sloan rushed toward her protegee, fully ready to fight the alien. However, before she could get close, the creature released Samson from its grip and propped him against the wall, with a strange gentleness, before skittering into a nearby air vent.
The others rushed into the room at the sudden ruckus as Sloan made it to Samson's side. "Stars, nonono…" She began desperately looking him over for any injuries.
"What the hell happened in here?" Grey barked at her.
"I think an alien attacked him." Her brow furrowed in confusion, Samson looked to be free from any injuries, outside of a few suction marks and a strange residue, akin to moss or lichen, tattering his clothes and face.
Heavy footfalls approached from behind as the security meatheads approached. "Well how the hell is he alive?"
Sloan wracked her brain for any logical explanations. "I think my flashlight might've scared it off before it could do any real damage."
With a small groan, Samson's eyes slowly opened. "D…doctor…I feel funny…"
"Just take it easy, alright?" Sloan continued looking over him— checking pupil dilation, heart rate, breathing pattern, and searching his body for anything out of the ordinary.
"So..?" Sloan could tell the security guards were getting antsy being in place for so long.
With a sigh of exasperation, Sloan slowly helped Samson to his feet. "He seems perfectly healthy from what I can tell," Samson stumbled slightly. "Outside of seeming to be lightly sedated."
As Sloan began helping Samson out of the room, the security personnel all shared a look and nodded to each other in agreement.
The meager group gathered back into the hall. An awkward silence fell between them, as no one really knew what to say. Grey just gestured to keep moving and everyone followed suit.
Sloan was the last to fall in line, as Samson was still barely able to walk. He seemed to be slowly coming back to his senses, though something felt off about him now— like part of Samson's mind was somewhere else.
Darkened hallways stretched on as they continued to make their way through the gutted ship. Distant sounds became even more unnerving, now that they knew something was actually out there.
It was at this point Sloan realized that the security personnel hadn't actually told anyone where they were going. "Hold up a second." She called as quietly as she could.
Grey-something raised a fist, signaling the group to stop, and turned toward Sloan with an infuriated look.
Sloan gently propped Samson against the wall, "I'm gonna go talk to the meatheads for a minute. Stay put."
He nodded sluggishly.
"Good enough." Sloan stood and made her way to the front of the group, "Where are we even going?"
Grey-something snorted, "How about you let me do my job of keeping you alive and I won't interrupt your job of writing on clipboards?"
Sloan held the bridge of her nose, "You haven't—"
Suddenly the ship rocked as the sound of an explosion echoed nearby, knocking most of the group off balance. "What the hell was that?!"
Looking around frantically, Sloan realized what part of the ship they were in. Her flashlight shone on a large blast door labeled 'HANGAR BAY 02'. "Oh stars— Samson!" She darted towards where she left him, however he was no longer there. Samson had crawled his way over to one of the secondary entrances to the hangar bay and was weakly trying to activate the opening mechanism.
"Samson!" Sloan arrived at his side, "What are you doing?"
"Sister…" He muttered to himself, "I'm here…"
A smaller explosion sounded from the hangar bay followed by a distorted laugh of elation.
"We're leaving with or without you!" Grey called, "Get a move on!"
Wasting no time, Sloan hauled Samson to his feet again and half-dragged him back towards the group just as they took off down the hall.
"Sloan…" Samson was weakly tugging at her grip in a poor attempt to free himself, "Sloan, it's not safe here."
Another distant explosion, "Yes— I think that's quite obvious at this point!"
"We need…" It looked like the sudden burst of exertion was making Samson's state worse. "…Mother." as he collapsed fully onto the ground.
Sloan nearly tripped over the rag-dolling scientist as she staggered to a halt. "Dammit, Samson." She placed her flashlight in her mouth and looked over his body, expecting some kind of head injury or worse. Instead, the part of his head that would've impacted the ground had been covered in a thick layer of that strange, mossy substance— almost as if it had grown in proactive protection.
Trying her best to ignore the million questions this scene alone had caused, Sloan heaved Samson over her shoulder and booked it towards where she'd last seen the group. Rounding the corner, it looked like they had reached their destination as everyone was standing around an open door.
As Sloan finally caught up, she set Samson back down— who thankfully seemed cognizant enough to stand with support of the wall. Glancing inside, she saw the security personnel were rifling through someone's standard living quarters. "What on Terra are we doing at your bunks?"
Grey shot Sloan a fiendish look as he found what he was looking for. "We are here," He pulled a pistol and rifle from a secret compartment behind the bunk, "for a way to fight back."
The mechanic and Sloan both took a step back from the room, intimidated by the sudden power shift. "Now," He handed the pistol to one of his lackeys and loaded the rifle, "First things first," then leveled the gun at Samson. "Let's get rid of the traitor."
Before anyone could shout protests, the room was filled with a sudden, overpowering, buzzing noise. It pierced into Sloan's mind like an ice pick as she found herself forced to her knees. Her vision was blurred and distorted as she watch the others struggle against it. The mechanic was fully prostrate on the floor, and the security personnel somehow managed to stay on standing but was unable to do anything beyond lazily attempting to fight off the stars-forsaken noise.
The only one who was unaffected by the buzzing was Samson— who watched the scene with a weak smile on his face. Sloan could've sworn she saw him mouth the word 'sister'.
As if in response, two long, barbed tails burst the ceiling and forcefully disarmed the two security personnel, pulling the weapons up into the ceiling, as the multi-armed creature from before dropped down between the three guards. With one swift motion, all three of them were stung with one of its tails, dropping each of them in an instant.
Sloan sat in stunned silence as the buzzing sound slowly dissipated. The mechanic, however, had already scrambled into a nearby maintenance shaft and dissipated into the bowels of the ship. As she struggled to process everything, Samson staggered past her towards the alien creature, arms outstretched.
In a flash, the creature scooped Samson into its smaller pair of arms with a strange tenderness.
"Samson!" Sloan stumbled to her feet, "No!" and reached out towards him.
The creature titled it's head in seeming curiosity before turning and skittering down the hallway, leaving the doctor alone in the darkness with three unconscious security personnel. Sloan began pacing in panic. "Fuckfuckfuck!" What the hell was she supposed to do? It was probably suicide to go after Samson, but what else was she supposed to do? Wait here and—
A familiar metallic screech echoed down the hallway opposite from where Samson was taken. Sloan spun around to see the terrifying, robotic monstrosity slowly making its way down the hall towards her— dragging its claws along the ground and causing sparks to flake off with each mount forward.
With a mortifying threat suddenly on her tail, she was easily able to decide that trying to save Samson was a much better idea than facing this thing alone. Sloan took off after the creature that took him. Strangely, the metallic monstrosity didn't give chase as she rounded the corner and realized that she had no real way to track where it had taken Samson after this point.
That is, until she noticed a small trail of the lichen-like material scattered around. It felt uncannily easy to track its path, like the monster had purposefully left a trail for her to follow, but Sloan didn't care. She wasn't going to let Samson be subjected to stars-know-what on her watch. She was going to save him or die trying.
Sloan followed the trail; the lack of noise was apparent as her own heartbeat sounded in her ears. It almost felt that all at once she was the only living thing on this entire ship. Not even the sound of the ship's life support system could be heard in this strange, isolated haze.
She continued on regardless, hellbent on saving Samson. What kind of mentor would she be if she left him behind? This wasn't the first time Sloan had dived into uncertain odds to save one of her research team members— and this probably wouldn't be the last. Given that I survive, that is.
A soft, wet squelch pulled Sloan from her thoughts. She halted to see that she had stepped on a small patch of something pale and green. Upon a closer look, she realized it was similar to the residue left on Samson after he was attacked.
Before resuming, Sloan stopped short to see her surroundings had changed. It was a gradual shift, but now that she noticed it, the pathway she had been following was becoming embossed with more and more of this strange substance. Stranger, still, it looked to be mixing with other alien flora as she saw vines and leaves stretch through the mossy mess. It was almost like the material was converting the ship into plant matter. Don't be daft, that's ridiculous.
Sloan pressed on, and it wasn't long until the entire hallway was engulfed in plant material— the cramped quarters of the ship starting to feel like the depths of an overgrown cave. Even the familiar, sterile, metallic smell of the ship had morphed to an earthy, floral scent. This can't get any weirder.
As if on cue, she began to hear a soft, melodic humming. The song was gentle and melancholic— like walking home in the rain. It made Sloan feel cold and lonely— the only way to remedy this was to find the source of the song. She debated with herself if it was really a good idea to follow the strangely-alluring melody, but eventually decided that its source was probably where Samson had ended up. She knew how easily that poor boy could be manipulated.
Despite how twisted and altered this part of the ship had become, she realized that she was closing in on the engineering bay. Though— the changes started to become more and more apparent as the closer she got to the song's source, the more the hallway expanded, until the cramped hallway had turned into a large cavern. Strange, tree-like structures grew from floor to ceiling, giving Sloan minimal coverage to approach as stealthily as she could manage.
Outside of the haunting humming, there didn't seem to be any signs of other xenos nearby— that is until she laid eyes on, what looked to be, a strangely-intricate tree on the far side of the cavern. At its base was the xenos who took Samson, gently laying him against it. She couldn't make out his facial expression, but he looked to be twitching in what Sloan could only assume to be pain.
Sloan steadied herself against the tree-like pillars nearest to Samson and waited for an opportunity to present herself. Once the xenos had fully settled Samson against the odd-looking willow tree, the humming halted as a disembodied, dissonant voice spoke, "Very good, Nyx. Mother is pleased with you and your sisters' progress." The voice sounded like it was overlapping itself in echoes, but backwards and forwards. "I believe this hunt may be reaching its end. We nearly have every sophont aboard this ship safely captured."
They name their monsters like pets? Sloan watched as it let out a low, chittering growl followed by a soft hiss.
A soft, gentle laugh echoed in responded, "Not to worry, dear daughter, there will be plenty more to hunt in the coming days." To Sloan's mounting bewilderment, a nearby vine reached out and softly pet the head of Nyx.
More soft chittering sounded from the xenos. It seems whoever this disembodied voice is could understand the alien sounds it was making.
"Oh, I see. I'll make sure to take special care of this one then." Samson was gently wrapped in lichen-covered vines and lifted up higher into the eldritch tree.
Dammit! Sloan bit her lip nervously. How the hell was she supposed to get him down from there without attracting attention?
Once Samson was secured close to the top of the tree, the voice continued, "And what is the progress of your sisters?"
There was another round of chittering and Nyx gestured to the right side of the room, where Sloan hadn't even noticed the mechanical monstrosity had been silently making their way towards the two— a security personnel in each hand. Sloan could only assume the third was trapped inside its ribcaged-mouth.
"Ah, perfect timing as always, my little Lethe." More vines reached to pull the incapacitated crew members from 'Lethe's' grip and gently opened its ribcage to pull Grey out. "Wonderful. These three had been worrying me from the start of the hunt. It warms Mother's heart to hear they never had an opportunity to cause much harm."
Lethe received a caress of vines before Nyx suddenly pounced on the terrifying robot. Sloan watched as the two began to wrestle and chase each other like cats. The strange voice laughed again at the display of the two 'playing'.
"I suppose celebrations are nearly in order, as I believe we have nearly gathered everyone from the crew manifest on this ship." There was an eerie pause as though the voice was occupied with something. "Ah, wonderful. It looks like there's just one straggler left."
Oh fuck. Sloan suddenly realized why the journey here had been so silent. She was the last woman standing.
"Hm hm~! Looks like we saved the best for last." There was a strange excitement in its voice. "Our last prey is one named Sloan Halison, the 'crown jewel' of this research vessel, as their records state."
Sloan felt the color drain from her face. How the hell did they crack the encryption on our database?! They had spent a large portion of their budget getting the most advanced encryption that Terra had!
"Found you~" A gravely, feminine voice taunted from behind, as she spun to face the sudden intruder. With horror, she realized she must've been in such logistical shock that she hadn't noticed the towering figure now standing over her.
The new figure's head nearly reached the ceiling, towering over Sloan— its body made up of what looked to be a mixture of gnarled, curving wood. It stood on two reverse-jointed legs with massive, bulky arms that ended in clawed hands as large as Sloan's entire figure. The top of its torso looked like it had been split open, and inside the divot sat the upper half of a disproportionately-small, humanoid body with ghostly blue skin— positioned like it was wearing the massive wooden body.
As Sloan took in the figure with a terrified gaze, the tree-like monster let out a familiar laugh. It was the exact same one that Sloan had heard during the chaotic destruction inside Hangar Bay 02.
It leaned down to her with a grime smile— revealing sharp, jagged teeth. "Run."
That, however, was the last thing on Sloan's mind as she remembered why she came here. Yes— it was a giant, terrifying space monster, but she'd seen plenty of horrors in her research. Samson needed her and she wasn't going to let them take him without a fight.
Sloan gritted her teeth and steeled herself as she looked into the monster's eyes with unshaken determination.
The creature's face twisted in confusion at her confident stare, and Sloan— seizing the momentary window of hesitation— launched a punch at the thing's head. Striking hard against the ghostly figure, it stumbled backward from Sloan, momentarily dazed at the sudden unexpected reaction of fight instead of flight.
She had a small moment of victory before the creature let out another cacophonous laugh— towering over her again as she realized that her punch probably just made the thing mad. "You wanna dance?" It let out a growling huff, "Then let's DANCE!"
With shocking speed, it raised one of its massive, clawed hands to swing directly at Sloan. Diving out of the way, she watched in horror as the place she occupied moments ago was obliterated by a massive, wooden fist.
More laughter echoed from the monster as it steadied itself for another strike, "Yes, YES! RUN like the PREY you ARE!"
Now supine on the floor, Sloan could only scramble backwards in desperation as the monster readied another attack— this time without any hope of dodging.
It seemed to come to the same realization as it laughed with finality, "DIE!"
Sloan's eyes shut, as her body raised what little defense it had against the incoming attack.
…but no attack came.
She cracked an eye open, cautiously, as a small kernel of hope grew inside her. The monster still stood over her, but its fist was stuck mid-attack as multiple vines from the ceiling had wrapped itself around the thing's arm.
"Now, now, Keres," A strangely-melodic voice called— seemingly from everywhere. "This is a hunt, not a play date. You know the rules~" The way the voice spoke was like that of a parent scolding a child.
The monster stepped back from Sloan with a dejected sigh, "Yes, Mother."
Sloan could only watch in shock as the monster retreated sheepishly. This was possibly the strangest outcome she could've expected from this situation.
"My deepest apologies, child." Suddenly that melodic voice was right behind Sloan. "My dear daughter can get a little excited at times." It spoke with a such an unnerving, playful tone.
For the second time, Sloan spun around— still supine— and found an even stranger sight. The eldritch tree at the far end was now standing over Sloan, and all at once she realized this was no tree. The thing loomed over her— large branches sprouting from its head like antlers as long strings of leaves slithered down its body. Its face was completely concealed by the mess of flora— save for six glowing, red eyes burning into Sloan through the foliage. Its leaves stopped just past its shoulders, revealing a feminine form made of overlapping, mossy bark that flowed into root-like tendrils just past the waist— almost like a dress.
This was an Affini.
Somehow in the chaos she had forgotten that an Affini vessel had disabled their ship.
How could she have been so blind? Of course Affini would terrorize an entire ship with monsters before killing them off or capturing them for stars knows what. Before Sloan could attempt to flee from this new threat, two vine-like arms wrapped around hers and…helped her to her feet?
Sloan looked up in befuddlement as a vine steadied her. This was nothing like the scattered reports they had received about the affini.
Once Sloan was stable, the Affini pulled back its 'hair' to reveal a graceful face painted with a small, polite smile. Noticeably missing two sets of eyes, now only a single pair met her gaze. "Truly a pleasure to meet you, Sloan~" It did a small curtsy, "Or would you perhaps prefer Dr. Halison?"
"I…" Still dumbfounded at the entire situation, Sloan struggled to respond.
"Lets go with Dr. Halison for now, as I wish to respect the work you've put towards that honorific." It spoke to Sloan without care for how she responded. Almost like it was used to conversing with a stunned person. "I have read a lot about you from your ships data banks and I must say your work is very…intriguing, to say the least."
Sloan began to retreat in fear of everything it could have read about her, "That's not possible…" Before she could get far, a vine snaked out of the ground and rooted one of her legs in place.
Seemingly unphased, the Affini continued, "And you had quite the reputation, according to your fellow researchers." It sat on its knees and leaned in closer, "A self-proclaimed master of manipulation, and— what was it, again?"
Another vine wrapped itself around Sloan's other leg.
"Oh yes, referring to it as a 'Delicate art'."
Tendrils ensnared her arms next.
"So, tell me, Dr. Halison, did you have fun on your little foray of unethical experimentation?"
"I…" Sloan's torso began to be entangled as well.
"I hope it was worth it, because now—" The affini leaned in close as vines forced Sloan to face it. "We are going to make you into a better person and you will never hurt anyone again."
The shock of the situation wore off far too late as Sloan realized she was now fully at the mercy of Terra's largest xenos threat, and she began to writhe in panic. "Nonono! You can't do this I worked too hard for it to end like this!"
"Oh, my sweet child, you understand so little of what you do. Not to worry, there's nothing we can't fix." It pulled away from Sloan and stood. "Nyx, dear, would you do the honors?"
Before she could retort, 'Nyx' appeared over Sloan as its tail plunged into her neck. The world began to twist and spin as she felt its poison enter her system. Her eyes felt heavy as the weight of her failure began to sink in, "Sam…son…" Now both her and the one good thing that was supposed to come from her life were both going to die— and worse, at the hands of these xenos usurpers.
And for the first time, Dr. Sloan Halison felt regret.