Reconnaissance

(All the writing in this set was based on dreams. For more info,
please read: 'An Explanation - 25 Dreams'.)

O'Brien's marine training is being put to the test as he runs up and
down dark, damp corridors. He is in the guts of a spacecraft, 'neon'
lights throw light down onto the floor, blinking, occasionally dim. He
carries a large crossbow, levelled at head height, although the
creature he is stalking seven or eight feet tall.

His yellow shirt is ripped and bloody, caked in dirt and sweat. His
steps are silent.

Up and down the corridors.

He hears footsteps and advances cautiously, close against a wall. He
knows the creature is up ahead and he fires an arrow. It leaves the
crossbow with a thunk and flies through the air, all power, all
purpose; it rebounds off the wall ahead and is propelled around the
corner. It rebounds off a second wall. Now it is heading straight
towards the alien who stands there open-mouthed. The arrow hits the
ground at the alien's feet and the ground opens up, throwing the
creature backwards amidst flames and rubble.

O'Brien is already retreating. The alien has already leapt over the
smouldering hole in the corridor floor and is in pursuit. It raises a
huge laser rifle and fires three shots, yelling.

O'Brien hobbles away, bleeding from a new wound in his leg, leaving a
trail of bloody footprints that only appear after he has gone, as
though the ground absorbed the blood for analysis and then spewed the
liquid back up to the surface where it settled in little pools, hot and
red.

The alien lowers the gun and follows the wet footsteps, its eyes keen.
It takes its time, knowing that O'Brien is finished, that when it finds
him he will be cowering in a corner, half-dead, desperately firing off
his remaining arrows.

The alien follows the prints through a doorway. Ahead of the creature
there is a river of yellow sludge, acid, on the other side of the
lethal river is a ledge, similar to the one on which the creature is
standing. It is too large a distance to jump across.

So where did O'Brien go?

Behind the creature a heavy portcullis falls to the ground.

Trapped!

The river of acid flows harder and stronger; the ledge on which the
alien stands is splashed and then flooded with the pungent liquid. It
hops from foot to foot, burning, impressed with O'Brien's
cunning.

Suddenly a man is running towards the alien. He is not O'Brien. He is
running, clambering, agonisingly through the acid river and he leaps
onto the step, his body melting and smouldering.

"What are we going to do?" he cries.

The alien thinks about this, with more clarity now that this question
has been vocalised. It weighs up its choices. Stay and die. Or jump,
swim and survive.

Over the man's shoulder, the creature sees a crocodile, floating like a
log in the yellow river, except it is not passive, it is coming towards
them despite the river's pull, malevolence smoking in its eyes, its
lethal grin just above the surface of the terrible sludge.

The alien jumps just as the crocodile reaches the ledge and grabs the
man by his waist. It snatches him down under the yellow, bubbling
liquid, while the alien makes it to the other side, injured, but
alive.

Alive, because it was forced into action.

It has learnt a valuable lesson.