NO STARS ABOVE THEM | PART 5

The mother is desperately bashing the alien beast with a metal chair, her breaths coming in frantic gasps between guttural grunts and panicked screams. The thing writhes and spasms on the grimy floor, its movements increasingly feeble with each strike. Its carapace—a thin but unnervingly resilient shell like a crab’s—splinters under the relentless blows. Its strong, whip-like tentacles flop lifelessly, and the sickly green light fades from its stalked eyes, which retract as if trying to escape the inevitable.

Still, she doesn’t stop. The weight of her fear and desperation drives her, each swing a desperate attempt to destroy the horror before her. The chair splinters, one leg snapping clean off. She keeps going, clutching the broken piece and hammering down, her voice raw and hoarse. It might already be dead, but in her shock, she can’t stop. Not yet.

Finally, realization seeps through her adrenaline-fueled haze. The thing isn’t moving. It isn’t breathing, that is if it even breathes at all. With a shaky exhale, she lets the broken chair leg clatter to the floor. Her arms tremble violently as the tension drains away, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness. Silent tears stream down her dirt-streaked face as she collapses to her knees, crawling toward the restroom door. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzes faintly, casting uneven shadows on the dark bloodied floor.

She sits heavily against the wall next to the doorframe, her back scraping against it. Resting her head against the cool surface, she closes all four of her eyes, trying to steady her breaths. The sharp sting of reality creeps back in as she feels the dampness of the otherworldly ichor on her hands and the fatty and metallic smell of the creature’s remains. She raises a hand, slowly and weakly knocking on the restroom door.

— Kalene… Favo… — her voice is barely above a whisper, cracked and raw. — You can come out now… It’s gone.

For a moment, there’s no response, only the sound of her ragged breathing and the distant, haunting echoes of the city outside. Then, the door creaks open. Two small figures peek out, hesitant and wide-eyed. Favo, the older one, clutches her younger sibling’s hand tightly. Kalene clings to her arm, his face half-hidden in her torn sleeve.

They step into the dim light, their small feet crunching lightly over shards of broken tile and stretching to avoid stepping on the dark puddle ahead. Favo helps her mother to her feet, her young face strained with the effort but determined. Kalene grabs hold of his mother’s hand, his grip tight and trembling. But she forces a faint, weary smile.

— Let’s go… — she murmurs and gathers her strength to walk by herself.

Overturned cars litter the road, some with doors flung open, their interiors stripped of anything useful in the desperate moments before their owners fled. Storefronts sit eerily quiet, their glass shattered or smeared with dust and blood. Amid the debris, law enforcement vehicles still pulse with silent, strobing green and red lights, their beams sweeping rhythmically over the carnage. Mauled remnants of officers and civilians lie scattered near the vehicles. The signs of resistance, bullet casings litter the ground near barricades made from overturned tables and crowd control shields. Some cars are embedded into walls, their chassis twisted and crumpled, while others are crushed under now ominous footprints imprinted on the chassis.

High above, a haunting sight dominates the skyline. A helicopter stood lodged precariously into the seventh floor of a commercial building, its tail jutting out at an awkward angle. Flames lick hungrily at the wreckage, sending black smoke billowing into the sky. One of the crew dangles lifelessly from a parachute tangled around the landing skis, the body sways gently in the heat’s updraft.

Favo grabbed a piece of metal scrap from a car’s door and followed his mother, trying to stay alert with her, as his younger brother Kalene stayed close and held onto her waist. The cold air swept the streets in between the buildings, getting slightly warmed up as it passed over fires, carrying within it the smell of burnt plastic, slowly howling as distant sirens and gunfight persisted. Little flaming and bright debris penetrated the thick and swirling cloud cover above them, like shooting stars, bringing silent light and wishes, wishes that hope those may be their invaders losing the battle above the clouds.

Through the narrow gaps between the buildings, the sky seemed alive with activity. The lights of distant aircraft moved with coordinated precision, cutting through the clouds with deliberate purpose. A sudden roar grew louder, and two jets streaked overhead, their engines thundering as they passed low enough to rattle the loose debris on the ground. They flew through a flock of worm-like creatures, which wheeled and danced erratically as they skimmed high, afloat without wings or other visible mechanism. The jets split apart as they passed through the swarm, their paths diverging as the creatures scattered in panic.

Favo turned to watch one of the jets, its engine trail fading as it moved further away. His relief was short-lived. A searing red bolt of energy erupted from the clouds, striking the jet with unerring precision, the aircraft exploded into a fiery blossom following the net direction of the bolt and its own, its wreckage spiraling downward and disappearing into the haze below. The charged air particles lingered for a moment leaving a fading shadow of the bolt, its crimson hue casting an ominous glow across the nearby buildings. Favo froze, gripping the metal tighter as Kalene whimpered softly. Their mother took a sharp breath, tightening her grip on both children and urging them forward, her pace quickening.

The trio moved carefully through the debris-strewn streets, the mother’s eyes fixed on a seemingly untouched minivan parked partially on the sidewalk many meters away. Its clean exterior stood in stark contrast to the destruction around it. She stopped and turned to Favo, her voice firm but low.

— Stay here with your brother. Behind the car. I’ll check the car. — She grabbed a brick from the rubble nearby, its edges rough and crumbling, hoping it could protect her and her children a little more than her bare fists.

— Mom, I can– — Favo began, gripping his piece of metal tightly, but her sharp look silenced him. He exhaled heavily, nodding reluctantly.

— Just stay low. — She adjusted the brick in her hand and turned away, walking toward the minivan with deliberate caution.

Her footsteps were light but measured as she approached the vehicle. She moved slowly, leaning slightly to one side and then the other, scanning her surroundings for any movement. Her eyes darted to the dark windows of the nearby buildings, the heaps of wreckage, and the shadows cast by the flickering fires.

Reaching the minivan, she hesitated for a moment before grabbing the door handle. She pulled gently, the latch clicking faintly as the door swung open. Relief flickered across her face—until the sound of another door opening on the opposite side froze her in place.

Her breath caught as she turned her head, and she found herself staring at a figure stepping out from the other side.

— Freeze. Put your hands where I can see them. — The voice was masculine, commanding, but it felt… Off. It lacked a shared exhaustion, perhaps, or fear, adequate to such a dire situation. — Step back from the vehicle.

— It’s alright, it’s alright. — She swallowed hard, raising her free hand while letting the brick slip from her grip. — I’m not armed. Don’t shoot! I have my kids with me... I was just trying... I didn’t see you– — Her words trailed off as her gaze locked onto the figure now fully visible on the other side of the van.

A specter stood on the other side, his stance rigid and precise, rifle held like a textbook illustration. His appearance was strikingly alien, yet familiar, a geometric, vaguely hoku shape clad in a battered military uniform, its fabric and plating showing signs of heavy wear. Scratches and streaks of soot marred what might once have been pristine, the insignia on his chest faded but still identifiable. A blood splattered yellow armband marked him as a medic. Glowing matrix display-like eyes on his long face shifted subtly as if they could actually see her, scanning her as his mechanical ear-like antennae twitched and pivoted, keeping track of the environment. He stepped carefully toward the front of the vehicle, rifle still trained on her but now held with less tension.

— Are you injured? Are you alone? — His voice was direct, efficient, but not harsh. His antennae flicked again, catching faint sounds from the surroundings as his glowing eyes stayed locked on her.

— No, no... I have kids. They’re right there. — She gestured slightly with her chin toward the overturned car where her children hid, her hands still raised. Her voice cracked slightly as she added, — Favo! Come out. It’s a doctor... It’s a doctor that wants to see you. — She tried to sound calm, though a tremor betrayed her attempt. Slowly, the older boy emerged first, clutching the makeshift weapon tightly before noticing the specter and loosening his grip. Kalene followed closely, clutching his brother’s sleeve.

The specter’s head tilted slightly, his antennae twitching again as he assessed the children from a distance. Satisfied, he lowered the rifle, the weapon releasing a faint hum as it locked magnetically to his side. He raised a hand and motioned toward the van.

— … Good, bring them over. We need to get them checked. — His tone softened slightly, though it carried urgency. — My partner is two blocks down this street treating an injured man. I’m trying to get us another vehicle to catch up with our unit. — He stepped aside, gesturing again for the trio to move toward the minivan. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, his attention splitting between them and the empty streets around, ears still tuned to the distant chaos.

The mother, still cautious, began leading her children toward him, her instincts battling her relief at finding someone, something, that might help. The group settled into the van, the children huddled in the back while the mother sat in the passenger seat, still clutching her knees. Chase took the wheel, his movements precise and mechanical, yet his attention flicked between the road and the dashboard's cracked display, scanning for potential threats.

The van's interior was sparse, with a lingering smell of wet fur and chemicals—likely remnants of its original pet shop use. Chase’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly as he adjusted the vehicle’s settings, the engine coming to life.

— Where are they? The army, the navy? Why aren’t they pushing these things back? — the mother asked, her voice tense but not accusatory. Her gaze was fixed on the cracked windshield ahead as the city passed by.

— The army and navy are engaging the invaders on the coasts. Most of the conflict is concentrated on beaches and waterfront cities. Initial reports suggest the invaders are either drawn to these areas or started their assault there intentionally. — his synthetic voice responded evenly, though there was a weight behind it. He turned the wheel sharply to avoid a mangled streetlight lying across the road. The children jolted slightly in their seats, but Kalene clung tightly to his brother, staying quiet.

— And the civilians? Where are they taking us? — she pressed further, glancing briefly at the rearview mirror where her sons’ reflections trembled in the faint light.

— Inland, to army bases and hospitals. — his antennae twitched, and his glowing eyes flickered as he processed additional information. — But it’s slow. Supply lines are severed, and the creatures are spreading inland. Some fauna—smaller than their war units but no less lethal—have infiltrated further than expected. It’s creating bottlenecks everywhere.

— You… You mean it’s not safe anywhere? — the mother exhaled sharply, gripping her knees tighter.

— To my awareness, no. But the limited information we have suggested the people might be safe in the old wastelands. Long-range radio communications have been down for the last three hours. The hostile fauna has made it difficult to maintain small group cohesion for units like mine, so every… — He paused suddenly, glancing briefly at her before returning his focus to the road. — However, Expanse protocol states that I give you only the relevant, positive, information, in order to avoid panic and mass hysteria. — that last line felt awkwardly polite given the dying city outside.

She turned to look at him fully for the first time, noting the scratches across his uniform and the faint scuffs on his metallic limbs.

— You said ‘your unit…’ What’s left of it?

— To my knowledge, myself and my partner only. — He adjusted the wheel again, his voice steady but edged with something that sounded like regret. — Army medical unit, designation XAS3-KA25, callsign ‘Chase’, and sergeant Gora Honeda. We were assigned to extract wounded personnel and civilians. That mission continues. — the mother sighed and leaned back on her seat, not knowing what to make of it exactly. — Our best chance is to keep moving inland, away from the coast. If the navy can regain control of the seas and space, their efforts should alleviate the situation on land for the general population to re-settle.

The van hit a bump, and Favo winced as his head struck the side.

— Sorry about that, kid. — Chase’s voice carried a faint hum of reassurance, as if trying to sound less of a machine.

The mother didn’t respond immediately, her mind racing through his words…

— If there’s even a chance we’ll make it… — she turned back to look at her sons, then faced him again — you better get us there.

— That’s the plan, ma’am, — Chase replied, his antennae twitching slightly as he scanned the road ahead.

— Forget that… It’s… It’s Lalene.

— Alright, Lalene… Just hold on. — Chase’s voice was barely above a whisper as he brought the van to a slow stop.  As soon as the door opened, the pungent smell of burning fuel and scorched metal hit them. The scene ahead was a nightmare in motion.

The overturned military truck was aflame, its twisted frame a grotesque silhouette against the dimming sky. The medic, dressed in army fatigues with the same yellow medical armband that Chase wore, worked desperately over the body—if it could even be called that anymore. It was from the chest down all reduced to a pulp, leaving behind an unrecognizable mass. The blood stains the pavement in dark streaks from the main pool. The medic’s hands moved feverishly, pressing into what remained of the torso as though they could somehow revive it. Her voice cracked with each utterance.

— No... No, no, no... We can't lose another one, not like this, not after everything... Stay with me, damn it! Stay with me! It’s an order, soldier! — behind her, a little girl, no older than seven, wailed. Another wounded man, his face hollow with exhaustion and pain, held her tightly, his arm around her waist, keeping her from running forward. His eyes were locked on the medic’s frantic efforts.

— Don’t look, son. — Lalene’s voice broke through the haze, her hand gripping her son’s arm. She glanced at the scene again and immediately wished she hadn’t. — Don’t look at that. — she gently pushed Kalene behind her seat, putting herself between them and the window, unable to look away from it as she covered her mouth from gasping.

Chase’s movements were methodical, his antennae flicking forward, trying to catch any sounds or signals. He knew this was only part of the nightmare, but even so, there was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke again.

— Gora? — he called, his voice slightly strained, but steady. No response. He stepped closer to the medic, his feet crunching against the debris as he raised his voice once more. — Sergeant Gora? My… My sensors indicate she is gone. — the specter seemed to hesitate as he spoke calmly.

— Come on! Please, don’t leave me... not like this, please, please… — Her efforts only grew louder, her face wet with tears as she cried out to the lifeless body beneath, giving harsh compressions over a red-soaked towel.

— You need to come with me. We’ve got more lives to save. — His grip on the medic’s shoulder was a quiet command, his tone more stern. 

— We lost him... we lost them all... I... I couldn’t– — She broke off, shuddering with tears and anger, but Chase’s grip tightened, pulling her up with surprising gentleness but undeniable force. He placed a strong hand on her back, urging her away from the scene.

— Gora, I need you to focus. There’s nothing more you can do here. We’ve got a new mission now. — Chase spoke clearly and gently pulled on her shoulder.

— I’m not leaving him... I’m not leaving any of them! — Gora cried out in frustration, her voice breaking as her figure gave up to his gesture.

— We’ll honor them. But we can’t help them now. — He turned, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. — The van’s waiting. Get moving. — Chase looked at the man and his daughter remained frozen, too frightened to speak. — You two, in the van. Now. — his mouthless face ordered sharply through the speakers, his eyes steely as he glanced back at them.

The man nodded quickly, gathering the girl into his arms, and made his way to the van with hurried steps. The little girl clung to him, still sobbing, but with no words left to say. They both climbed into the back of the van, and the door slammed shut with a dull thud.

— Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste. — Chase stepped in behind them, his voice low, his gaze hard as he looked out the front window and turned the car on.

Lalene sat silently in the front, her face pale as she tried to reconcile what they had just seen. She caught the reflection of her son, his wide eyes filled with confusion and fear, staring at the shattered world outside as it began to slowly roll past her face.

— It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. — She whispered, though her voice wavered. Everyone inside was then quickly alarmed when Chase’s face turned off and he plopped flat against the wheel, blaring the horn for half a second before it too went mute. Alarms and lights from cars around them too blared and blinked for a short moment before becoming mute, the city block now illuminated by the faint light from distant fires bouncing back from the clouds.

 

NO STARS ABOVE THEM | PART 4

Mohopu pedaled through the rain, his bike cutting a lonely path along the deserted road. The wheels hissed against the wet pavement, framed by the endless grass fields that stretched out on either side. He was close to the university grounds now, perched on a stable rock formation near the coast. The distant sea roared faintly, hidden under a dark canopy of churning storm clouds. 

He slowed to a stop, his legs burning from the ride, and leaned against the bike, letting the cool rain soak through his jacket. For a moment, he simply took it all in. The storm wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. The lightning flashes, jagged and brilliant, weren’t the only thing cutting through the gloom. Pulses of eerie red light shimmered just above the clouds, moving in erratic patterns as though with some unknown purpose. The flashes revealed fleeting silhouettes against the stormy backdrop. Flocks of coastal birds wheeled and scattered, their movements frantic. But there were others in the sky too—creatures Mohopu couldn’t name or place. Some were vast and graceful, like mantas gliding through the sky on immense, wing-like forms. Others seemed to defy the laws of physics entirely, their bodies undulating as they levitated, skimming through the rain without visible wings.  

A chill ran through him, one that had nothing to do with the rain. The storm wasn’t just weather; it was something else, something wrong. Shelter was no longer just a precaution—it was a necessity. His world had turned upside down in a single morning, and now, all that mattered was getting some north, away from whatever this was. He let out a long, steady sigh, the kind that carried both exhaustion and resolve. His breath clouded briefly in the cold, rain-laden air before vanishing into the gloom. With a final glance at the eerie sky above, he adjusted his grip on the handlebars and pushed off, the bike groaning as he began the slow climb uphill.  

The distant silhouette of the university complex emerged through the haze, a cluster of angular buildings perched defiantly against the storm-ravaged coast. Most of the windows were dark, their frames barely visible against the gray, but one building stood apart. A solitary beacon, its lights still glowing, faint and unwavering in the storm’s oppressive grip.   His legs ached with each pedal stroke, the incline punishing under the weight of fatigue and soaked clothes. As he approached the entrance to the campus, the gate came into view—or rather, what was left of it. The once-sturdy barrier lay twisted and mangled, trampled under the tires of countless cars in what must have been a desperate exodus.  

There were no guards stationed at the post, no professors or students milling about. The campus had the feel of a battlefield long since abandoned, its structures silent witnesses to whatever chaos had passed through. Mohopu slowed momentarily, surveying the deserted walk. The open gate, if it could still be called that, gave him pause, but not enough to stop. He pedaled forward, the bike jolting as it crossed the uneven remnants of the gate. The closer he got to the lone illuminated building, the louder the storm seemed to grow, its howls ricocheting between the concrete walls like a living thing. The rain lashed harder, but the light ahead drew him on—a strange comfort, despite the ominous emptiness around it.  

He passed by a couple cars abandoned in the lot, mildly crushed, as if something heavy fell over them, some with their doors flung open as if their occupants had fled in a panic or something. Papers fluttered across the ground, caught in swirling puddles, their ink smeared into illegibility. Mohopu felt a sliver of hope, tempered by caution. Whatever lay inside might hold answers—or simply more questions. Either way, he had nowhere else to go.

Mohopu finally coasted to a stop at the curb, the bike swaying precariously beneath him. He braced one leg against the stone steps leading into the building, steadying himself with a deep exhale. It wasn’t just about keeping his balance—it was about keeping his precious food intact. Reaching into the sodden folds of his jacket, he fished out the two remaining candy bars, now reduced to warped shapes from the rain. He shoved them into his wet pockets with a muttered curse and turned his attention to the prize, the cheese chunk.  

Letting the bike collapse with a clatter, its bell giving one last defiant ring, Mohopu gingerly retrieved the cheese from the handlebar pouch. His legs wobbled as he stepped forward, every muscle screaming from the relentless pedaling. He climbed the short staircase to the entrance, every movement deliberate, his hands trembling as they tried to unwrap the cheese. He dug his fingers into the wrapper, clawing at the edge in desperation. It was there, just a second ago, he was sure of it. But the stubborn material refused to yield. Frustration boiled as hunger gnawed at him. His trembling hands were no match for the slick wrapper and his waning patience.  

Finally, Mohopu abandoned decorum. With a grunt, he brought the cheese to his mouth and sank his teeth into it, tearing through the wrapper like some wild animal. The edges crinkled and ripped as his small front teeth gnawed at the material, a primal surge of triumph washing over him when he finally broke through.  

— Got you… — he muttered, spitting out a shred of wrapper.

It wasn’t graceful, but it worked. He tore away the remaining bits in a more civilized manner and took a hungry bite. The sharp, salty taste flooded his mouth, grounding him in a way that the surreal storm outside never could. Slowing down, Mohopu nibbled at the cheese, savoring it now that his immediate desperation had been sated. The faint glow of the hallway lights illuminated the water pooling at his feet, dripping from his soaked clothes and hair. His eyes darted to the familiar layout of the building as he stepped inside, trying to orient himself.  

The hall stretched before him, its silence broken only by the occasional hum of flickering lights. Rain pattered against the windows, and the storm’s distant roars seeped through the walls. Mohopu shuffled forward, the cheese in one hand and his other trailing lightly along the damp walls. He moved cautiously, guided more by memory than sight, navigating the maze of corridors that once buzzed with life but now felt eerily deserted. Mohopu had walked these halls before, back when the campus echoed with the footsteps of students and the quiet hum of purpose. Aledara University was where he had first sought meaning in the world. His early years as a geology student had been consumed by a fascination with the stories carved into the cold bones of Auot’zae, ancient, unchanging, patient. But patience had never been Mohopu’s strong suit. His interest had drifted, expanding to the restless skies, to the swirling chaos of atmospheres. He left the certainties of stone for the volatile unknown, trading one corner of geoscience for another.  

Now, years later, all that switch had earned him was the dubious distinction of being the local weathercaster—a face on a screen delivering platitudes about rain or sunshine to a distracted audience. It wasn’t a bad life, but it wasn’t the one he had imagined either. Stability, he had learned, was an uneasy thing. It carried the weight of regret, of questions that crept in during the long nights.  

Some of his peers from those geology days had escaped. They were the ones who had taken bold steps, who had boarded outbound vessels and made lives for themselves in places like Volkali, the distant colony world that had come to symbolize opportunity. If Mohopu had stayed on his original path, he might have been among them—surveying the volcanic plains of that forgiving, alien world instead of reading weather patterns on a green screen.  

He wasn’t bitter, not exactly. His life wasn’t a failure. But he couldn’t ignore the way the years had passed without sharpening into anything meaningful. He had built a house on the shifting sands of predictability, only to find it hollow. The storm outside was more than a meteorological anomaly; it was a wound. It tore into the fabric of what little order he thought the world still had. He had chased it for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, thinking it might offer some fleeting sense of purpose. Now, here he was, drenched, trembling, and caught in its web.  

There was no grand opportunity here. No answers. The storm didn’t offer anything; it simply devoured. Those eerie lights above the clouds, the impossible creatures circling within the chaos—they weren’t harbingers of change or destiny. They were threats, and a personal threat at that. The universe wasn’t beckoning him forward. It was closing in, showing him just how small and powerless he truly was. Mohopu stepped deeper into the darkened hall of the university building, the weight of his soaked clothes clinging to him like the ghosts of his choices. The storm outside raged on, relentless and indifferent.

Mohopu pushed open the professor's door, the hinges groaning under the weight of abandonment. The room was silent, chairs upturned, desks gathering dust—a place frozen mid-exodus. Whatever life had once filled these walls was long gone. He hesitated, then stepped inside, half-hoping to find some sign of the world he once knew. But it was empty, barren except for the faint echo of his own breathing. Then he heard it. A distant banging, regular, relentless, rhythmic. It pierced the stillness, like a heartbeat of the storm itself. The sound wasn’t violent, but it was unsettling, almost mechanical in its consistency. His curiosity, or perhaps a deeper unease, pulled him toward it.  

He followed the noise down a dim corridor, its length stretching farther than he remembered. The air grew colder, the storm’s presence seeping in through cracked windows and warped frames. At the corridor’s end, he found the source: a heavy metal door, half-open, slamming against its frame with the wind’s force. The sound was amplified in the hollow space, a dull clang that reverberated through his chest. Crouching down, he noticed a tangled wire snaking along the floor, its copper threads glinting faintly in the erratic light of a flickering bulb. The wire acted as a crude stopper, preventing the door from fully closing. Beyond it, faint illumination bled into the darkness, a pale, sterile glow that hinted at something alive and working.  

Stepping through, he was greeted by the hum of machinery. The room was chaotic, a collage of computers, monitors, and rolling printers spewing endless streams of squiggly lines and dense numeric data. Screens blinked erratically, displaying charts and readings Mohopu couldn’t decipher. The air buzzed with static, the storm’s interference evident even here. The wire led him farther in, out a side door and into the open field. The rain had lessened but still fell in stinging bursts, carried by erratic gusts of wind. The grass whipped against his legs, bending under the storm’s power. Ahead, faint figures moved against the dark horizon, silhouettes illuminated by the faint glow of portable floodlights.  

As he approached, the scene resolved into a makeshift setup, antennas balanced precariously on chairs and wooden crates, detectors propped up on hastily gathered supports, and a suitcase cracked open to reveal a portable computer station. The wires snaked outward in every direction, tangling into a chaotic web. Two older men stood at the center of it all, their faces lined with rain and exhaustion. One barked orders into the wind, his voice barely audible over the storm’s howl. The other hunched over a monitor, his expression a mixture of awe and manic determination.  

Around them, a handful of students struggled to keep the equipment upright. One group fought to stabilize a swaying omnidirectional antenna, their hands slipping on the wet metal. The professor—if that’s what he was—yelled out readings with a tone that teetered between scientific excitement and outright madness.  

— Negative five! Negative five! It’s holding steady. No, wait, we’ve got a spike! Eighty-two microhoppen and rising! Keep that antenna up!

— This thing’s going to tip! It’s not holding — one of them, a young woman with rain plastering her hair to her face, yelled back.

The students exchanged worried glances, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Her voice was cut off as a gust nearly tore the antenna from their grip. Mohopu stepped closer, the scene surreal in its intensity. The storm’s strange, pulsating red light reflected off the wet metal, casting everything in an eerie glow. The professor didn’t seem to notice the struggle, his focus fixed on the monitor as if it held the secrets of the universe.  

Mohopu’s breath caught in his throat. The man’s excitement wasn’t just professional. It was personal, obsessive. Whatever they were measuring, it wasn’t normal, wasn’t natural. The storm wasn’t just a meteorological anomaly—it was something far beyond their comprehension. And these people were playing with forces they didn’t fully understand. 

— We’ve never seen signatures like this before! If we lose this data, we lose everything! This storm is a doorway! — A gust of wind carried the professor’s voice to Mohopu’s ears with urgency.

— A doorway. To what? — he questioned aloud in the wind, his tone skeptical but bleeding genuine curiosity.  

— To the underworld! — the old man declared, the words almost a cackle. His frail form somehow brimming with frantic energy. His wide eyes gleamed under the storm’s flickering light, and his face broke into a manic grin.  

Mohopu froze, a chill running down his spine that had nothing to do with the storm. Before he could respond, the professor turned sharply toward him, squinting through the rain-soaked air. His grin faltered as his voice shifted to something strained, like a man forcing coherence through hysteria.  

— Mohopu? Boy! Oh, ohhhhh you shouldn’t have come in here today! — His hands gestured wildly, as if trying to ward him off. — It’s a really, really bad day today.  — The recognition hit Mohopu like a slap.  

— Doctor Kalendra? — he said, his voice softening. — It’s good to see you’re still working. But… what the hell is going on here?

— They’re moving to the south now! Might have just filled their reserves!  — Shouted one fo the students before the professor could answer.

— Keep recording, Kaeteru!  — Kalendra snapped back to the moment, his excitement reigniting as he barked commands.

The rain intensified, pelting the group as Mohopu followed Kalendra’s gaze toward the horizon. The ocean raged under the storm’s wrath, its dark surface flashing with bursts of light, not just from the lightning, but something else, something deep and pulsating.  

— Oh no... — Kalendra checked his wristwatch, muttering to himself. — They’re five minutes earlier than last time. We’re losing. And fast.  — His lips tightened, and the manic energy in his expression drained away, replaced by grim resignation.  

— Who’s “they,” Doctor? What are you talking about?  — Mohopu felt his stomach twist.  

— Professor, I think they’re gone now!  — Before Kalendra could answer, the young woman struggling with the antenna called out. Her voice carried an edge of hope, but it was fleeting. Kalendra turned to her, his face ashen.  — Do we get inside and wait for another one? — she asked, the desperation evident in her voice.  

— I’m afraid not, miss. — Kalendra shook his head slowly, his movements heavy with dread. — Get your stuff bagged and run. Go get your families and run.

The wind howled around them while the group stared at each other in a silent agreement, scattering loose papers and shaking the precarious setup of crates and chairs.  

— The desert is safe, perhaps. You all… — He paused, his shoulders slumping. — Class dismissed. — The students froze, the weight of his words sinking in. One by one, they exchanged uneasy glances before hastily packing up equipment. Kalendra’s voice cracked as he continued.  — It was a pleasure, lecturing for you...

He waved his arms weakly, shooing them away like a farmer herding livestock before a storm.  Mohopu stood rooted to the spot, the surreal chaos of the moment washing over him. He watched as the students stumbled through the grass, their shadows swallowed by the storm’s angry red light.  

— Doctor Kalendra, — Mohopu said firmly, stepping closer to the man. — You need to tell me what’s happening. What are you running from?  

— Not running, Mohopu. — Kalendra turned to him slowly, his face hollow but still brimming with a dangerous intensity.  — We’re fighting. But it’s a war we’ve already lost. And I fear… you’ve walked into it at the end.

Kalendra worked swiftly, his fingers trembling slightly as he loaded all his data onto two steelglass chips. The storm outside continued to rage, the wind hammering against the walls like a beast trying to claw its way in. Once the transfer was complete, he handed one of the chips to Kaeteru, his expression stern yet tinged with a paternal concern.

— Drive safely, Kaeteru. Get to a shelter as fast as you can, — he said, gripping the man’s shoulder briefly. — Don’t stop for anything. You hear me?

Professor Kaeteru nodded and lifted his ears to make it even clearer, clutching the chip tightly before sprinting toward the van parked on the muddy hill. Kalendra watched him go, his hunched figure silhouetted against the chaotic flashes of lightning.

— Come on, Mohopu, — Kalendra said, grabbing his arm and dragging him back inside the open lab.

The room was a chaotic mess of whirring machines, blinking lights, and tangled wires. The faint hum of power struggling against the storm’s fury filled the air. Kalendra moved with purpose, inserting the second steelglass chip into a computer terminal. He crouched down to the side, opening a small fridge tucked under a cluttered table. Inside were several small sample containers precariously crammed alongside three beer bottles. Kalendra grabbed two of the bottles, cracking them open with a bottle opener that had seen better days.

— I’ll show you. — He placed one of the beers on the table in front of Mohopu, keeping the other for himself. He took a long sip, his eyes briefly closing as if savoring the bitter taste was the only solace left to him.

— I bet you’ve figured out by now that this weather doesn’t just happen like this, — he said, gesturing vaguely to the storm outside. — And you’re right about that. The issue is… — He paused, his voice dropping into a hollow tone. — I don’t think it matters what’s causing it. There’ll be no one left to talk about it once it settles.

Mohopu stared at him, the words hitting like a blunt force. He struggled to process the weight of what Kalendra was saying, though part of him felt an eerie calm—as if he’d subconsciously known all along that something far worse was at play.

— We’re being invaded, — Kalendra added, his voice resigned yet firm.

Mohopu’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. His silence was confirmation enough. Kalendra took another sip of his beer before gesturing toward the computer screen.

— The monsters, though… They’re not the real problem, — Kalendra said, shaking his head. — They’re the tip of the iceberg. Collateral damage caused by the real issue.

Kalendra typed a few commands into the terminal, pulling up a video feed. The screen flickered before displaying a grainy recording from earlier that morning.

— Someone caught this and posted it online. Before, well, the web stopped working.

The video showed the cold morning horizon, a pale blue sky marred by the remnants of a storm. A strange object hovered over the ocean—a hemispherical shape, like half an egg laid on its side, its metallic red surface glowing faintly. Below it, the ocean churned unnaturally, the water rising in a shimmering column into the ship’s underbelly. The jiggling distortions of atmospheric refraction made the scene surreal, almost dreamlike.

Mohopu leaned closer, squinting at the image.

— They’re after our water? — he asked, the words barely audible over the storm outside.

— Just watch. — Kalendra waved him off impatiently.

The video continued, the ship releasing the column of water briefly, creating a massive waterfall that tumbled back into the ocean for a few seconds before the process started again. The strange, cyclical act repeated itself, seemingly without purpose.

— They’re not after the water itself, — Kalendra said, his tone measured, as though explaining to a student. — Hydrogen and oxygen are the most abundant elements in the universe. Water? It's everywhere. They’re after what’s in it..

 

Mohopu frowned, his mind racing.

— So… they’re filtering it? — Kalendra nodded grimly at his response, taking another long drink from his beer before leaning back against the table.

— Yes. But the question is, what are they filtering for?

Kalendra stood up and locked the door behind them, the heavy metallic clang echoing through the lab. He turned to Mohopu, his face etched with a mix of exhaustion and grim determination.

— They can't be after our life, — he began, gesturing vaguely to the storm outside. — Life as we know it is too… common, at least on a cosmic scale. What else is the ocean made of?

 

Mohopu frowned, trying to keep up.

— Besides fish? Salt, I guess.

 

Kalendra let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

— Yes, salt… and trace amounts of iodine, potassium, dissolved metals, calcium, magnesium… — He paused, taking a sip of his beer before continuing. — I had this theory bouncing around with a friend of mine over Dahet, before communications went dark. It was about this exact video.

Kalendra walked to the far side of the lab, pulling down an old projector screen with a forceful tug. The screen was stained and battered, but still usable. Above it was pinned a tattered periodic table, scribbled over with sharpie. The chart was divided into three new sections, with bold lines and hasty notes marking various groups of elements. Kalendra pointed at it, his finger tracing the lines.

— These here, — he tapped on the first section, — are the elements that occur by default across most of space—light stuff, hydrogen, helium, a bit of lithium. Then there are these, — he gestured to the second section, — elements that only occur in areas of moderate star formation. And finally, these. — His finger rested on a cluster of elements: gold, iron, and others marked in red. — These only form in dense star-forming regions, places where supernovae and other cataclysmic events enrich the interstellar medium.

Mohopu crossed his arms, staring at the chart with a skeptical expression.

— Aren't these still somewhat common in the universe? — he asked. — What would prompt an entire civilization to do… — he motioned vaguely to the screen, — that?

— That’s what I asked my friend too, until he showed me this picture. — Kalendra turned to him, his eyes glinting with a spark of intensity. He shuffled around with his phone and showed him a picture, dark of space with pale blue circle in it, a blinding flash next to Koshazat’s edge. The light was unnatural, almost surgical in its precision, cutting through the upper atmosphere like a blade.

— This flash occurred near Koshazat. At first, I couldn’t make sense of it. But now… — Kalendra’s voice trailed off, his gaze distant. — It makes so much sense. Koshazat is our entry point to the colonies north and south of the galactic equator. But it's also a convenient stop for those coming in, easy to maneuver around to get in here.

— What does that matter? — Mohopu asked, growing frustrated.

— On the scale of our domain, it doesn’t make much of a difference, because we still inhabit far deep in the galaxy disk — Kalendra admitted. — But picture this: a civilization that lives far, far above the galactic plane. Out in the galactic halo, far from any stars that might go supernova and wipe them out. Far from any competition. But also… far from any sources of heavy elements.

— I don’t understand… So there isn’t any of this where they come from? — Mohopu’s frown deepened.

— Exactly, — Kalendra said, his voice steady. — The galactic halo is barren compared to the star-rich disk. They’re coming here, prospecting. Mining the disk for resources they can’t get where they are. Maybe we just happen to inhabit a world that fits their needs. Auot’zae’s siderophilic composition makes it an ideal mining candidate, and with the upside of having a vast ocean to exploit.

Mohopu stared at the image on the screen, his mind racing to process what Kalendra was saying. The implications were staggering.

— So… this isn’t just about us, — he said quietly.

— No, Mohopu — Kalendra replied, his tone heavy. — We’re just… in the way.

Mohopu walked toward the window, where faint flashes of lightning illuminated the horizon. The sound of distant thunder rumbled like an omen.

— What about the monsters? — he asked, his voice tinged with both fear and curiosity.  

Kalendra snorted, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair and swirled the contents of his beer bottle while trying to make the best of his thoughts.

— Oh, they? Quite likely hitchhikers, — he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. — Parasites, definitely. And probably a few clueless beings too. You know, transported here from countless other worlds the invaders strip-mined to exhaustion. Not much unlike barnacles or mussels attaching themselves to ships and whales.

— So they’re just… passengers?  — Mohopu raised an eyebrow.

— Passengers, pests, collateral damage… Take your pick, — Kalendra said, his tone dripping with cynicism. — They just take a ride and spread wherever they can. Perhaps the invaders deliberately bring them along, part of the ecosystem they need for their operations. Or maybe they just don’t care enough about contamination.   — He drained the last of his beer and set the bottle down with a loud clink on the table.  — Why would they? — Kalendra continued, leaning forward now. — Their schedule and goals don’t leave much room for... ethical considerations. They just come, take what they need, and leave behind whatever they don’t care about, monsters included. Not unlike what our own species has done before…

For a moment, the lab fell silent, the hum of the equipment and the distant roar of the storm outside filling the space.

— So… — he began hesitantly, before draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle aside with a muted clink. — It’s over now, right? I mean… The navy has to fight on two fronts for this. They’re already way over our heads. — His voice wavered as he rubbed his eyes, his hands lingering on his face as though holding back tears. When he finally looked up, a nervous smile crept across his lips, an attempt to laugh himself out of despair. But the humor fell flat in the heavy air between them.

Kalendra’s expression softened, though his eyes betrayed no illusions. He stood, shrugging off his white coat and draping it over the back of his chair. Adjusting his suspenders with a sigh, he retrieved his car keys and a small steelglass data chip from the table beside him.

— We’ll see,— he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm. — Communications have been down for four hours now. The Expanse has its means, sure, but I’ve got a bad feeling about their operations over the sea. They might already have breached our defenses, or they’re just taking hits while harvesting the most they can. — He turned to face Mohopu, the storm outside punctuating his pause. — Mohopu, young one… I can’t leave the university like this. At my age, I wouldn’t make it far anyway. My daughter Lalene is out there somewhere safe. She’s all I’d worry about, and I trust she’s taken care of… Her husband is not the brightest but I trust that man he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

— Doctor?… — Mohopu’s voice was barely above a whisper.

— You take this,— Kalendra said, extending the keys and chip. His hand remained steady. — You get this intel to the navy. It might not help them win the war, but it will help them save lives. The world… It won’t be the same after this. But they need to know what’s changing. They need to understand what we’re dealing with now.

— Doctor, I… — Mohopu stared at the objects in Kalendra’s hand, his own trembling as he reached out to accept them.

— You’ll do fine,— Kalendra interrupted, his voice kind but resolute. — You’re brighter than you give yourself credit for. The world needs people who can adapt. And you? You’ve got that in you.

The young man nodded, his throat tight as he pocketed the chip and keys. Kalendra smiled faintly, his shoulders relaxing as though a great weight had shifted. He turned away, heading for the door with deliberate steps.

— Be swift. — Kalendra called over his shoulder. — And Mohopu. Stay alive.