---

Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - twenty, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter soon.

“God damn it!”

That was all Charlie had to say in response to the alert coming on over the public service comms. She had other, more pressing matters that she was currently preoccupied with - for instance, the hulking, pissed off, gorilla-like alien creature chasing her through the jungle.

Four yellow eyes, crimson skin, a rocky hide, and a pair of short, well-worn horns. Research teams had a scientific name for them that Charlie could not for the life of her remember, but in place of any dumb nerd shit, the local mercs called them ‘thrashers’. Because they liked to thrash things. And it would be unwise to expect any better naming conventions from a community of violent, gun toting meatheads.

Charlie led the thrasher past the winding trees, over the rocks and short drops. If there weren’t so many obstructions in the way, the beast might very well have caught up to her by now. Smaller creatures were running scared from the chase as the thrasher shoved tree after tree aside, grunting and roaring in anger with every obstacle it forced its way through.

Charlie’s helmet pinged the location of a nearby prefab shelter. Number twelve, out of the many dotted around the Hollow Moon. That was her destination. Shelters had automated turrets posted around them - most did, at least. They’d take care of the thrasher.

She jumped down another short cliff, scrambling back on her feet as the thrasher leapt downward after her. The trees became fewer and thinner as they neared the clearing that shelter twelve lied in. Charlie could see the blocky, grey, modular exterior of the building, the big 12 emblazoned on the side, and the turrets surrounding it, scanning the area, ready to shoot anything that wasn’t the least bit human. As Charlie broke out into the clearing, the thrasher wasn't far behind, barreling towards her as she made a mad dash towards the shelter.

She sprinted past the detection line, and as the thrasher did the same, two of the turrets turned and locked onto the beast. Its pursuit was immediately halted by a hail of concussive gunfire, not designed to kill, but merely chase off with excessive force. The rounds careened off of the thrasher’s rock hide, chipping it some, but the ones hitting its face and belly caused it to rear back and fall over, onto its side.

Charlie watched, and smiled, and in that moment, seized the opportunity. She took her rifle - a jury-rigged mess of a thing - and aimed at the thrasher’s head. One well placed slug, and the thrasher’s left horn came off near its base. It tumbled back, standing itself back up and away from the turrets, which stopped firing once it left the detection range. It stood up on its legs to gain height, looked at Charlie, and roared ferociously. All the merc could do in response was smile and flip the beast her middle finger.

The roar was, however, interrupted by an even louder noise. A cacophonous boom, sounding from up above them. The thrasher didn’t think twice - it gave up its bravado and turned away, retreating into the jungle to find somewhere safe to hide. Charlie went and grabbed the horn she’d shot off, then looked up at the core of the Hollow Moon. It was covered in swelling blue clouds, flashes of light dancing inside, ready to burst in-

Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - fifteen, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter immediately.

That long.

Charlie put away the thrasher’s horn in her pack, then brought up her ship’s location on her helmet’s HUD. Just a little under six miles away, parked near another shelter altogether.

“Shit…”

She’d gotten pretty sidetracked.

Charlie wasn’t about to make a mad jog back to her ship and risk cutting it so close with the storm, and the autonav module wasn't exactly in working order either. So she elected to hunker down for a spell, and turned and entered through the shelter’s automatic door.

“Entry logged at shelter - twelve.”

She looked around the gray, blank interior with random couches, seats, and tables strewn about. No one else was present. Seemed to be she was the first one in. Normally she saw at least a handful of folks in most of these shelters, sitting around, drinking, playing cards, swapping stories. Not this time, oddly.

“Oh, well.”

There were about fourteen minutes left before the storm hit. Charlie stepped towards one of the couches and placed her pack on top of it, set her rifle aside, and removed her helmet. She shook her head and brushed her hair to the side with her hand, dropping her helmet onto the couch. She gave a look over to a music player on a table near the other side of the shelter, went over to it, and turned it on to a blasting wave of heavy metal. She jumped a bit before putting her finger on the volume and bringing it down to a level that wouldn’t give her tinnitus.

“Fuckin’ A…”

She went back over to where all her stuff was and plopped down for a seat, relaxing with the music - odd combination though it may be - and looked out the window. The shutters would go down before the storm hit, and the whole thing would close up tight. So she’d wait and see if anyone else came about little ol’ shelter twelve before then.

Just a little under thirteen minutes left.

---

Technology in the hollow moon was surprisingly… hard to access. Sure, there were strange geological structure with ionic bonds and carbon chains that might have been interesting for a naturalist to study, but some people like engineers were met with the infuriating task of deciphering lines of alien code – assuming they were ever able to reach them. The Custodians were functionally no different from Shy’s own drones, and surely there must have been a sort of network available for them to communicate and navigate through Hollow Moon. Only problem with that is how Shy could not fucking find any of it. Must have it been deeper in the moon? Even when she could not find a tangible piece of tech and she tried to pick up the signal and tap into the network, all she got was a bunch of alien jargon. It sure was not the sequence of ones and zeroes she was used to, and she probably should not have expected the Latin alphabet or Arabic numerals within the core of an alien world.

Ugh, she’d probably have to find some kind of expert on xenolinguistics to help her crack it – but oh wait, there weren’t any experts on xenolinguistics, because this was the first sign of alien life that’s been discovered! Damn piece of sh—

“Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - twenty, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter soon.”

Oh, isn’t that great? Hollow Moon might have been more of a pain in the ass than it was worth, but Shy supposed that was the cost of being the first. She glanced around her surroundings, hearing the growl of a distant storm – or was it a beast in the jungles? It was hard to tell at times, but she was afforded the comfort of not being totally aware of her surroundings by the three spherical drones hovering in the air with the assistance of maglift technology. If they detected anything within range, they would alert her and stun whatever alien beastie that came running with an electrical arc or low-powered optic laser. Shy, bored as ever, worked the tech-pad computer on her wrist. The nearest safehouse would be… shelter twelve.

The distant sound of crashing trees seemed to signal its location as Shy double-checked the navigation assistant to make sure that this was not the case. 'These things are never easy on Hollow Moon.'

The sound of a barrage of suppressing gunfire followed suit. 'Fortunately, humanity made sure that wouldn’t be a problem.'

Booming roars the bright blue thunderheads rolling in threatened more than just Shy's safety. She was no naturalist, but she knew that the wildlife will be looking for shelter just like she was. No morsel could possibly be worth getting caught out in a mixer storm, and surely the many generations of learned fear taught them it was better to be hungry for a short while. Anything not smart enough to take cover probably didn't last very long in this world. It was just as well then that Shy soon came upon the shelter with five minutes left to spare. The very static in the air was beginning to make the hair on her neck stand on end, and make her right arm and right eye feel irritated and numb. Even her tech-pad was experiencing interference. Whatever caused these storms, there was definitely some kind of combination of ionization and electromagnetism in the air.

Whatever.

"Entry logged at shelter - twelve."

There was only one other person inside the shelter, another woman. Looked like the mercenary type too, probably has a big gun. Shy inputted an order for the drone to deactivate until the storm passed, and the three spherical robots slowly drifted over toward a recharging station for different technologies. She played with one of them a while back, it was pretty basic stuff; they relied on electrostatic generators to create a field to be siphoned by electronics equipped with a receiving antenna connected to heavy-load capacitors. The people of the twenty-first century could only dream of this household utility. As they entered their dormant state Shy yawned deeply and stretched her arms above her head, pacing her way toward the couches. Maybe she'd strike up conversation with this stranger.

"Moon's not as exciting as I thought it'd be." Shy commented dryly, breaking the silence as she fell carelessly onto the cushions. "What do you think?"

---

“Moon’s not as exciting as I thought it’d be. What do you think?”

“Eh. I still think it’s kinda cool.” Charlie said to the new arrival, “Everyone gets a little bored of anything after a couple months of it though - except for all the nerds still studying everything here. They’re having a blast.”

Charlie tapped the surface of her helmet as she scanned over the woman’s appearance for a moment. Her armor was much sleeker than the old, scratched-to-hell pieces Charlie was wearing. But all she had for weapons was a pistol strapped to her side, so she had the stranger beat there. And her accompanying equipment - three spherical drones that floated on over to the available gear-charging stations. Like little versions of the Custodians, just nowhere near as deadly. Most likely. Charlie didn’t know for sure.

“Those are neat.” She said, pointing to the drones before turning her attention back to the woman. “You buy ‘em or make ‘em?”

@Spoopy Scary

Traversing through a foreign jungle had never been more difficult... nor more exciting. Yara had seen many jungle like terrain, but nothing like this. It was like every other planet she'd visited combined into one with extra layers and adaptations. Yara had specifically taken jobs that would lead her to each sector of the moon on purpose. Flora collections for a few educational establishments, one small animal capture for a wealthy man with a sugar baby to please, and a particularly dangerous mission to gather an... item from an apex predator. Each job would allow Yara to get as much exploring done on the side as she wanted.

So far, Yara had gathered each plant required to garner two payments upon returning to the Thermopylae. They weren't exactly the highest paying jobs, but so far they were the easiest. She was just on her way to gather the last bioluminescent plant, which would require crossing a river and a field of... whatever plant life was home to something that both burrowed under ground and could also take flight. She'd just spotted the water up ahead when-

Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - twenty, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter soon.

"Twenty minutes?" She asked herself as she looked down at her navigation system. If she'd had her suit on, she could have made it to her ship 45 seconds into the storm. She let out a puff of air and pulled up the closest shelter to her. "A fifteen minute jungle gym extravaganza. Let's do this."

Yara turned and headed in, unfortunately, the opposite direction of her last prize. She'd have to grab it after the storm. For gathering plant life, she hadn't expected to need protection. Yeah, the storms were predictable and a given on this moon. She'd been warned plenty of times on the station of the horrors. It was the reason why she'd chosen to stick near the shelters for her first day. Just so she could experience the moon's qualities unhindered by a metallic shell. What was disappointing about the storm's future arrival was that she'd expected to get everything she needed before a mixer hit.

Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - fifteen, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter immediately.

Yara climbed over a fallen branch. Which, on the Hollow Moon, was more like a giant log. She slid off of it, and onto the other side. A sudden thunder in the distance caught her attention. The ominous dark blue clouds off to the side were enough to get Yara's feet moving faster. There was no way in hell she was getting caught in a mixer storm. She'd heard of the affects it had on a cyborg. Imagine what it might do to the metal disks that lined her spine.

"Ugh, I'm wearing my suit tomorrow." She didn't even want to imagine it.

Alert. Mixer storm manifesting in - ten, minutes. Exit Hollow Moon or seek shelter immediately.

Another log, a tall gathering of vegetation to traverse through, and a moment of distraction as Yara checked her navigation to make sure that she was heading the right way. She should be seeing the outline in a minute. It wasn't certain that there would be other beings within the shelter, but at this point Yara hoped to have someone to chat with.

The second she saw the building up ahead, she allowed herself to slow down. She brushed her hair back from her face and adjusted the pack's straps against her shoulders. It would be nice to give her shoulders a break. To sit down for a few minutes. She entered the shelter as a second boom erupted in the air.

"Entry logged at shelter - twelve."

Yara released a sigh as she felt the door close behind her. She immediately removed her pack and set it down on the nearest table. Then she turned her head to scan the room for anyone or thing within the shelter. Two women. Refreshing. Both wearing protective armor. It looked like she'd walked in right when they were getting comfortable. While she was in casual clothing, she always wore her chest and back plate. If they didn't look close enough, they wouldn't even know it was there. The weapon on her hip suddenly carried some extra weight, but she ignored it. Any hole in the exterior of this shelter and they'd all be goners. No one would start a fight during a storm.

"Ladies." She said with a nod towards them. She turned towards her pack and pulled out a flask for water. A generous gulp later and Yara headed towards a refilling station. She took note of the three machines at the charging stations and glanced them over as she filled her flask.

"These are state of the art." She said as she turned back to the women. "Whose are they?"

"I'm Yara, by the way." She added in as she made herself comfortable on a nearby chair.

Ebeneezer “Benny” Barns had been laying still for hours, watching a magnificent monstrosity skulk up and down a tree. It looked like a squirrel would, if there was a squirrel that could and had killed a crocodile before fashioning a suit of armor out of its hide. It was a dark, sludgy green, with a random spattering of bright yellow stripes, like an artist had once tried to fend it off with a paintbrush. And it’s massive tail, at once, had both the prehensile grace of a boa and the needle coat of a porcupine.

All of this just to fetch dinner. Not his dinner but somebody’s. He wasn’t here for the tree-creature just for its eggs. From what he heard they tasted like lemons would if lemons weren’t a citrus fruit, which he had a little bit of trouble wrapping his head around. Rumor had it they were highly addictive but he didn’t know of any actual studies--not that he would’ve read them if he did.

Finally, the creature crawled down from its perch on the tree, away from its nest. Probably to go mark its territory. It wasn’t carnivorous as best he could tell, but it was extremely aggressive. Benny waited for it to disappear beyond his line of sight before making his move.

It was at that very moment that he heard the vibration on his wristwatch indicate that there was a mixer storm coming in fifteen minutes. Yeesh. As if the tree-creature wasn’t already scary enough.

The tree thing was gone. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t hear it. And if he acted quickly, he hopefully wouldn’t have to do either. So he took a deep breath, clenched his left hip just above the kneecap and produced his Skyline, a pocket-sized grappling line that could attach to most surfaces by automatically determining the most effective means, in this case, drilling into the wood.

Once he felt the line pull itself taut, he firmly wrapped both of his hands around the Skyline’s characteristically ergonomic handle. Intelligently, the Skyline held his hands back, just as it always did, by swallowing them with an inflatable graphene foam. A fraction of a second later, it tugged him skyward. If it were a stock model, it would’ve required him to vocally confirm that he was ready and met all of the dozen prerequisites for safe operation but in a ballsy, warranty-voiding move he’d manually disabled the safety features.

And so he soared, reeling up into the tree like a fish into a basket, using his momentum to swing under the branch and land safely atop the limb. It was a trivial matter to load up the eggs into his pack, all seven of them. But the hard part would definitely be sprinting back to his ship. If he were a smarter man, he would’ve scattered when he received the warning. But Benny was far too emotionally invested in getting these eggs to market to do the smart thing.

Eleven minutes, eh. Let's do this.

Next stop: The Thermopylae.