Into The Rift

Skeleton Crew (51)

The constant drive to shed light on the unknown-manifesting in the UNs overall mission of scientific exploration and research. It was here we took our first steps, thrust with an opportunity unlike anything before it. A priceless miracle. That was what this should have been.

That hopeful image was a far cry compared to this. There is nothing I could do to bring back those days.

Over the newfound silence, an unfamiliar lump wells up in my throat. The sensation quickly spreads, darting past frozen lips and prompting tears to form as images run a gauntlet through my head.

Through glazed eyes, the memories race-forming and leaving just as fast as they appeared, their intensity akin to an electric shock across frayed nerves.

Cygnus station stood out from across the Antarctic landscape as I stepped out the aircraft, the cold air sinking deep into my skin for the very first time. Next came the remains of Expedition six, their bodies decomposed and charred beyond recognition as a certain Euralian stood with her back turned on the gruesome scene-the forest canopy shedding its last vestiges of sunlight.

My heart races as I find myself back on the Island, surveying the coastal waters of Visegrad. The former outpost was silent, defeated. The days blur together into a crude timeline that fed the growing resentment within. It simmers to a crescendo as I remember pacing through those narrow halls, comms buzzing with callouts as the ship lurches beneath violent waves, that rescue eventually concluding with only a handful of survivors-all of whom were non-military.

So many other images came and went. It finally stops with a distant boom and flash as I gazed down at the former outpost, the air billowing across my helmet as I peaked out the Valor-detonator in hand. The flush of relief that followed as we left the island chain for good now fills me with despair. It was all for naught.

A lone tear spills over with a single blink, cascading down my cheek. I raise a hand to wipe it away, only to be prevented by a thin film of polarized glass. Embarrassment then takes over, pushing me back into order. The last time this happened was at a funeral, almost two years now. This was unwarranted, like a misfire during a routine exercise.

I rid the muse upon sighting my destination. The brief ordeal leaves behind an aftershock of sorrow even as I focused on the present. Multiple prefabs cross into my vision as I pause over a slight elevation. Aside from the rubble, this place is exactly as I remembered.

As I gaze over the buildings, a flicker of movement catches my eye. I pause my tracks again, senses heightened as I look to the source, sighting a figure emerging from one of the habitation prefabs.

The brief panic subsides once the figure raises a hand in my direction, its identity revealed beneath the sun's rays.

Robert continues to beckon me over, his helmet tucked beneath an arm. The man's chin harbours a visible stubble, a testament to our time spent away from Tartarus. I head over to him, slinging my weapon to the back.

"Heard what happened over comms," he says, thumbing past the threshold, "I won't say much but, we've got to keep an eye on Douglas."

I nod, keeping the last vestiges of grief from showing. "Must be hard on him, not knowing if he'll ever see them again."

"There's always that slim chance right? Earth's just on the other side of that thing," Robert returns, tone optimistic as he glances over the modestly sized Rift.

"He was holding all that in since it closed up on us," he continues, lips pursed in thought, "can't say I blame him." He retracts his steps back inside and gestures at me to follow suit.

"I got us a window up till 1300 hours," I trail behind, moving past the entrance into the building. Lanterns were stationed at the corners as expected. With that same observation making the list again, it is same to assume this was standard operating procedure from our enemies.