His Tomato soup was unnapreciated. That was his view of it, anyway.
The rest of the crew of the "mother's glory" took a nervous glance at the menu in
the mornings, and began to shudder as they saw the words "tomato soup"
scrawled in Trewalny's handwriting on the wall of the mess hall. Luckily
for the rest of the crew, it only happed once a month. This time however,
it was worse than ever before. There was a tangible green colour to it, and
a tinge of yellow. In everybodys opinion, it sucked.
Two days later, the chef found out what was wrong with his "perfect" soup.
The storage room, where he kept a large supply of his soup, was hardly ever
lit up. crew only visited to pinch some food or to resupply the kitchen.
The lights took over a minuite to light up, and most people left before the
lights turned on. However, today was spring cleaning.
George Trewalny, the head cook, and creator of the dreaded soup, twisted
round the lever to open the door. it opened with a hiss, and a blast of warm
air hit his and Lloyd taylor's (assistant cook) faces. Trewalney twisted
round and inspected the refridgerator display. It registered a steady 10*c.
Frowning, he made a mental note to tell maintenence. The ship was new,
and systems were going haywire all the time. Shrugging, he strode into the
room. He could definately smell something. The broken refrigerators must
have let some of the more delicate foods expire. He froze. All foods in
here were vacuum packed. All the smells would be contained.
The generator in the room hummed into life, and the lights came on. Scanning
the room quickly, his eyes picked up something wrong. He slowly moved his
gaze up to the ceiling. He froze again, and began to analyse. Giant moving
blobs do not hang on ceilings. In fact, they did not exist in his opinion.
Slowly, he reached for his personal communicator...
"what's this one then?"
The captain of security aboard the "mother's glory" was bored. All of his
crew were scanned for offences before they were even considered for a
position aboard the new ship. He had nothing to do at all for the
entirity of the 6 month test flight. Five and a half months had passed,
and he had been looking forward to his retirement.
"They say that theres a ... growth in the mess"
"a growth? tell them to go **** with someone else. I can't be bothered
with these immature ****."
"sir, I think you should see this. I really do."
"fine. if its a joke, the person responsible won't hava a job for long."
The security team arrived in the mess hall. The crew were eating hungrily,
glad of another meal without the soup. When the team arrived in combat gear,
their old rifles slung on their shoulders, and the sour faced captain of
security, a man named Smith, with his pistol out of its holster,
everyone looked to them and fell silent. They marched through the hall,
their age-old armour clanking on the steel floor, making a beeline for
the kitchen. A low lying crew member made a joke about the chef being
arrested for his soup, which raised a few chuckles. They were probably
the last people to ever have any humour aboard the "mothers glory"
The Door hissed open again. A white faced Trewalney showed the six
security personnel, the ships entire security force, the strange growth.
They took a look at the yellowish brown mass before the security chief,
Gregory Smith, took out an old fashioned A-class grenade. Before anybody
could complain, he pulled the pin, and thrust the device up a small nozzle
that could be seen below the growth. He turned around and issued an order.
Everybody who could hear this word ran for their life. Gregory smith was
a irrational man, easily coming up with bad solutions that more often than
not caused much disruption and fear. After five long seconds, it exploded
with a thump. Trewalney peeked around the corner first, expecting small
amounts of crap coating his soup. Instead, the growth was intact. It began
shaking, as if there was something wrong. After about ten seconds, something
happened. The security team were lined up, staring at the growth. The
A-class concussion could rip apart 10 cm thick steel armour with ease,
and they expected nothing to survive that kind of treatment. The nozzle
extending from the growth vibrated, and something felkl out of it.
"Jones? see what that is"
The young man's underarms began to leak sweat furiously, and he felt
his bladder began to weaken. But he knew there was much worse from the
captain to come if he didn't follow orders. At least, he THOUGHT there was...
Slowly he advanced towards the spot where he thought he saw the thing land.
There was nothing there. He span around on the spot, eager to get the hell
out of there, when he heard a rattling behind him. He bent down to see what
it was, simoultaneously hiding him from the group watching them
The captain growled the question, and then impatiently set off for the
spot where Jones disappeared, muttering under his breath. The rest of the
security team stood frozen in their shoes. Even the threat of the captain's
wrath couldnt move them. The captain, a muscularly built 6 foot something
ex-boxer, turned around the box, and met a pool of blood. He had a split
second to look surprised before a creature jumped from underneath the box and
took an amazingly athletic leap towards his throat.
The security team took no hints. They opened fire automatically, their
35 round magazines depleted before they ceased their wall of fire. each of
them reloaded, scanning the 140-or-so bullet holes for any sign of movement.
Not seeing any movement, they all shakily walked towards the mess that was
the captain. they could clearly see that the thing was round his neck still,
a dog like creature with long, cruel looking claws instead of feet. Still
shaking, they turned to the growth, and it began to shake again...
Two days later...
The ship was infested with the strange aliens. The survivors had made it to the
computer banks and found out that the aliens had a collective name :
the Kharaa. Very little was found out before the power was cut. They
found out how they began, and a little about the different species.
The remaining crew, 25 known personnel, had banded together, and slowly
made their way to the lifeboat bays. from the 2,800 crew to start, the
kharaa had slaughtered their way throughout the ship, adapting the ship to
The Survivors had a problem. They had seven outdated assault rifles, and
six pistols between them. But hardly any ammunition. The only remaining
bullets were stored in the storage wing, near the Lifeboat bay. Two birds,
one stone. Thats what they thought. They had only seen the species names skulks
and one gorge so far, but they knew the worst was to come.
The Mess hall now dripped with infected water. There were no bodies. The
only sign of life was the now slowly shaking alien hive. Every so often,
a skulk would flash by, too fast for the human eye to percieve. Chairs were
left on their sides, their previous occupants having fled in fear when the
sustained gunshots stopped and the kharaa entered. Tables still stood, but
there was no sign of food in the room.
Suddenly, there was a thump. A door slid open in the oven, and a lone crew
member fell out. He groaned, and started to crawl towards the exit. The
quiet grumbling noise from the hive stopped, and the room was completely silent.
Sweat began to form in beads on his forehead. He glanced around, taking in
his surroundings. His breath came in gasps, and his clothes were blackened and
dirty. There was a flash to his left. He looked, and saw nothing. There was a second
flash, this time to his right. Nothing. All of a sudden, there was a snort behind him.
Not wanting to look, he slowly twisted his neck to see behind him. The alien biped
snorted again, before raising its scythe-like arms, and cleaving George Trewalney in
According to their personal clocks, It was midnight. Having witnessed the aliens
24-hour activities, now was as good a time as any to assault the storage area.
They had another assault rifle, making a total of eight, but the hd lost two more
crew to the merciless kharaa. They seemed to know exactly where they were. They
also preyed on the weakest, the least strong willed people. It seemed stupid,
but all the survivors believed thay the kharaa were telepathic. One of the casualties
was caused by a new alien, called a 'fade' by the computers. Another was caught off
guard by a lone skulk, which shot him with something, and then he was constantly
attacked by aliens until he succumbed.
They walked in single file, along the narrow corridors that surrounded storage.
The crew with the rifles covered the fromn and the back, and pistols were distributed
along the line in case an alien broke through. As they arrived at the large doors, the
order went back through the ranks to bring all the assault rifles to the front. The
huge door stood as solid as a rock, the control panel lit up still. The first officer,
ranking highest in the crew, pressed in a code. There was a muffled thump, a hiss,
and the doors opened.
"there's nothing there."
"you got that right"
The room was empty. The large, cavernous space stretched out, and it was clean of
infection. The survivors rushed in, grabbing the ammunition as they went, most
of them heading towards the food area. Exposed nano points spurted out expensive
nano-sludge, but not one person cared. Three days of no food, and they were close
to giving up.
The only person still alert was the first officer. He continued to
scan the room. Only he had read the full kharaa database. He knew what they were.
He knew what they could do. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement.
spinning on the spot, he could only see a resource point, spewing nano particles.
Something was wrong, however. The particles shimmered, spiralling left and right.
He gripped the trigger of his rifle, and raised it to his shoulder. The blur moved.
Quickly, he pulled the trigger. It let off a trio of bullets to the blur. The
blur screamed an alien scream, and a fade appeared out of nowhere.
As quick as lightning, the crew grasped their weapons, and let off the remainder
of their bullets at the deadly alien. The firing stopped, and the smoke cleared.
The alien still stood. Bleeding a yellowish blood, yes, but still standing.
With a final alien scream, it simply disappeared. Crew apparently saw it at the
door, but most people dismissed it as an afterimage, or even a hallucination.
They quickly gathered whatever they could carry, and took off towards the lifeboat
bays. They encountered no aliens whatsoever while they were running, a strange
thing indeed seeing that they were passing very near indeed to the mess hall where
the whole mess started. As they reached the lifeboat bays, all that could be seen was
the blackness of space. They had to wait for retrieval by another ship, which could
take minutes or months. All they could do is close the doors and hope.
"Captain, ship is now 2km off port bow."
"thankyou, first officer."
Aboard the bridge of the "Lamb", the atmosphere was tense. The company that owned
this ship also owned the prototype ship "mothers glory". They had orders to prevent
the ship from being destroyed, but the ship also had more sinister orders, of which
only the captain and his highest staff were aware of. Names were long forgotten,
and ranks were used to adress others. If this attempt failed, they would have to
look for outside help, probably the TSA, and they were expensive.
"launch the assault craft."
The Small Craft detatched itself from the hull of the larger ship, and began to drift,
almost lazily, towards the black shape that was the "mothers glory". Small devices began
to emerge from the front, and locked into position. Inside, 20 soldiers stirred
restlessly. Their rifles clanked against their armour, which was made out of thick steel.
As the Assault craft began to turn, the entry was revealed. All that could be seen through
the glass was an empty room, devoid of all life. The craft finally docked with a clank,
and the airlock sealed. THe door opened and the soldiers ran out, ready for action.
It was a noisy day aboard the TSA Carrier "dauntless". They had recently won a
decisive victory in the Omega sector, and so troops and officers alike were
in a good frame of mind. That was, until a message came in from the unima corp.
that said there was an out of control infestation in a prototype ship. They
reported that all life aboard was terminated, and that fades had been reported.
The order quickly filtered down the rnaks to prepare to move out. The "dauntless",
the biggest ship the TSA could offer, began to move through the blackness of space
towards the "mothers glory".
Commander Ebert was an aged man, his wrinkles prominent on his face. He had been
part of united america's special forces as a young sergeant. A veteran of
several battles with the kharaa, he was making preperations to retire. This
was to be his last job as a TSA employee. He was seen as the best commander
in the task force, and so was going to cammand the mission.
As the Frontiersmen rested and relaxed in and around the mess hall, a new message
appeared on the screens of the tech officers who were working above the personnel deck.
It simply read : "help us". Quickly, the message was relayed to commander Ebert, and
he studied it carefully. Looking up at the anxious tech personnel who were waiting for
a reply, he simply said : "it looks like we have survivors."
The TSA boarding craft eased itself from its dockings on the "dauntless" with a clank.
The group of frontiersmen inside stared forwards like machines. Emotions were high,
but they were trained to ignore such feelings. The mission briefing stated that they were
to move forward without a commander towards the original hive, which was reported to be
located in the old mess hall. They would progress first without specialised equipment, to
allow as many men as possible to enter the ship, and then more equipment and personnel
would be shipped over to reinforce.
The Lifeboat bay was deserted. Nothing moved apart from the darkness of the space outside,
the stars slowly drifting past. It was two weeks since the original hive was found, and
the lifeboats had been destroyed by another ship to prevent the spread of the kharaa.
Suddenly, there was a clank, and a hiss. A crackling voice could be heard from behind the
"okay, command console to stay here, we need to establish a beachhead. Alpha squad to take
the atmospheric processor, you know how the kharaa love to use the ventilation system. Beta,
you're with me. we're taking the mess hall, and then supporting charlie, after they've made
their way through storage and maintenence, in the assault on the hive."
There was a loud clank, and the door hissed open. Twenty frontiersmen ran out, and took
up defensive positions, and throughout the ship, the kharaa began to stir.