The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 32

Janice

The morning is chaos. It's like one of those awful family vacations where you get up at some ungodly hour, scramble to finish packing, and travel for a small eternity in some cramped vehicle.

I'm able to slip out of Slater's room and into the crowded hall without anyone noticing. I stop by my room to change into my suit and pack my duffel bag with the few worldly possessions I have access to.

Even for us, it's early, and there's a grogginess that hangs over everyone in the building. We pile into the dining room, where we're fed breakfast by cooks who look as disgruntled as we are about being up so early. The lights don't seem like enough to illuminate the base, but somehow they're still blinding.

Our shuttle arrives packed with recruits, and we glare at them as they file onto the moon just as we did. Our numbers are significantly smaller than theirs, and we fill up only a small fraction of the ship's capacity.

Just before we launch, a group roughly our size boards, introducing themselves as the B-Team. When our mission is finished, they'll swoop in and help us secure Mars. Or, if we fail, they'll swoop in and grab a couple of survivors. They seem far more casual than us, and I immediately start to resent their function as the backup squadron. They kick back while we risk our lives—it hardly seems fair.

We travel fast, hurtling through space at an astonishing speed, but the trip still takes forever. At first, there's a loose, playful energy among the soldiers, amplified by the B-Team's cavalier attitude. People are sitting together in big groups, talking and laughing. They're excited to have been selected for a special mission. They yell and cheer, thrilled to wipe out an entire planet of hostile aliens. During these first hours, the shuttle feels like a sports bar on soccer night.

I assume the reality hasn't struck the others yet, because I know it hasn't hit me. I keep expecting anxiety to hit me like a landslide and knock me out, but it never does. Nita seems only slightly more on-edge. We sleep, we talk, and we eat, though the closer the red planet gets in the small, high windows, the more tense the air becomes. For the first time in my life, I wish there were portscreens to block my view.

By the time we've reached our destination, the craft has gone silent. We're hovering several thousand feet above the surface of Mars, just out of reach of the Zinnans' radars. My legs shake as I stand to switch crafts. The platoon files into a much smaller, much more cramped, much more military-looking shuttle, which takes us onto the surface of the planet.

The short ride feels like a prison bus lugging us towards the death penalty. No one speaks, and we all have the same grim expression. We all know what to do once we land, so there's nothing being explained or discussed, and the craft is silent.

As soon as we touch ground, a weight like a boulder drops into my stomach, and I feel sick and dizzy. The nerves have finally hit me.

When the door opens, I have to steel myself before I can even stand. I glance at Nita next to me, who gives me a small nod. We join the small group exiting the craft and step out onto the red surface of Mars.

And good lord, Mars is red. I knew it would be, but it's still shocking. The red suits we were issued earlier suddenly make sense. The planet is rocky and rust-covered, scattered with dunes, hills, huge rocks, and shallow valleys that look like dry riverbeds. Everything about it seems barren, from its desert sunset look to the miles of sandy emptiness.

There's nothing for miles except the huge metal spire jutting up from the what must be the Zinnan camp. It resembles a cell tower, but it's dark black and much thicker. It's too far away to make out any detail, but I know it's the terraforming device.

We start our trek towards the Zinnan base, which is a lengthy distance away. It's a tiring, nerve-racking walk, but if we'd landed any closer, we would have given ourselves away. If we want to succeed, we need the element of surprise.

Slung across Slater's chest is a duffel bag, which we all know contains a powerful bomb and enough plastic explosive to launch a building into the air. He hangs in the back, taking shelter behind the rest of us since his cargo is the most crucial and dangerous part of the mission.

I hang in the back with him, silently glancing at him from time to time. The sides of our hands just barely touch, and although I can't feel him through the thick fabric of our suits, the contact is welcome.

Finally, we reach the Zinnan base. Part of it consists of a series of metal, tent-like structures, but the rest of it is built into the surface of the planet.

Several of the aliens are patrolling, and when we get close enough, I realize General Brooks was right about them not wearing their masks. It's the first time I've seen them without the silver objects covering their faces, and for the first time, I notice how huge their heads are. They don't have noses, and their ears are just holes in the sides of their oblong heads. Huge black eyes are set deep in the center of their flat faces, and sharp teeth protrude upwards and outwards from their wide mouths like sharks.

They seem relaxed and oblivious to the few dozen soldiers crouched behind a rock formation. We really do have the element of surprise, and I feel a little better knowing we have the upper hand for once.

The plan is for Slater to get to the tower while the rest of us blitz the Zinnans and hold them off as long as possible.

"Elliot," General Brooks calls, his voice low to prevent alerting the enemy of our presence. "You're going with Lieutenant Slater, got it? You too, Reynolds." He gestures to a blond guy a few feet from me. "You're to plant that bomb at any cost." His tone makes it clear that failure is not an option.

I nod, and Reynolds and I go to stand by Slater. A wink from the latter implies that my name being called was his doing.

Our move happens in an instant. The general shouts, "GO!" and everyone leaps up and charges the Zinnans, whose big black eyes get even bigger when they see the group charging them. By the time they've gotten themselves together, several are already lying dead, and our trio is almost to the foot of the terraforming machine.

A trench is dug around the bottom of it, and its sides are covered in panels and parts that resemble vents. Red text I can't read flashes on tiny screens attached to the sides of the huge machine, probably monitoring the new atmosphere. There are tall ridges on either side of us, so once we take the guards out, we're hidden from alien eyes.

Slater leaps into the hole and rapidly starts to cover the base of the tower with explosives. Reynolds and I stay at the top, scanning the area for any sign of movement and occasionally glancing back at Slater to gauge his progress.

We can't see the battle, but I can hear yells and grunts through the speaker in my helmet. Anxiously, I chew my lip, hoping Slater can place the explosives quickly so the others won't have to fight for very long.

Finally, Slater calls up to us and we help pull him out of the hole.

"Objective complete," he says into the radio in his suit. "Two minutes to detonation. Send in second squadron. Over."

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here before that thing goes off," Reynolds says.

Slater and I nod, and the three of us start back at a brisk pace.

This might go off without a hitch, I think.

I must jinx myself, because the second the words enter my mind, I feel a sudden, sharp pain in my right thigh. My leg gives out and I crumple to the ground.

++++

Dun dun dun...

I just realized I haven't used Aliens Exist by blink-182 in any of these chapters... I guess it's a bit to lighthearted for any of the alien scenes in this thing. Oh well, here's MCR instead!