Timeless Dark

Report to Administration of Control for Possible Zone of Anomaly

Location: Masu Star System, Planet Ankou, 83.74°N 235.73°E

Tags: time distortion, gravitational disruption, confirmed lethal

Abstract: 

Akuzawa Space Industries has held corporate claim to Planet Ankou for 23 years, during which time they have established only one research facility claiming to study the geological nature of the planet. Ten days ago, this facility went dark. Akuzawa immediately cut all legal ties with the planet and made no attempt for rescue, claiming the planetary conditions were too hazardous to allow for an evac operation. While the planet does not have a strong atmosphere, the surface conditions have remained stable for the past 23 years. Upon investigation, the only noticeable event corresponding with the loss of the research facility appears to be a solar eclipse, where Ankou’s moon, yet unnamed, moved into position directly between the sun and the Akuzawa facility. This has been suggested as a Zone of Anomaly not because of the eclipse itself, but because of the circumstances surrounding it, which point almost undeniably to a powerful Anomalous Presence.

The orbital calculations reveal that Ankou’s unnamed moon was never supposed to fall in line with the Akuzawa facility. Somehow the orbital path of the moon was forcefully warped to cover this facility.

The moon and planet have remained in orbital lock with the sun ever since. A physical impossibility to say the least, but more importantly, the absolute eclipse over the Akuzawa facility has yet to come to an end.

The Administration had given us five bodies for the job. A single fireteam. Against any mortal enemy, that would have been more than enough. Several years into the war in Alpha Centauri, we had a two-body op, sniper and spotter, holding a choke point against an insurgent force of fifty or more. We had killed almost thirty of them, injured more, before they decided to retreat. Simultaneously, in the overgrown cities of Mars, twenty of our bodies were acting as a planet-wide terrorist network, eventually leading to the downfall of nine authoritarian city-states. But those were just the most impressive examples. Our bodies had been involved with every major human conflict in the last century, most often several at a time. The Administration wished for something beyond human, more deadly than any machine. We, the Homunculus Program, were the result.

But we weren’t created to fight humans. Battlefields, covert operations – those were just experiments testing our ability. Human conflicts were just a stepping stone for the greater goals of the Administration. They had always been interested in what lay beyond mortality, in the strange anomalies that arose from the depths of space as humanity reached for the stars. And so, after years of experiments and genetic modification, they decided to send us to the periphery of human civilization to fight a god.

From across the cramped orbital drop capsule one of my replicas held my gaze. He breathed through a mask covering the lower half of his face with a tube looped into his suit. His eyes were calm, his face almost apathetic in the capsule’s rumbling, shuddering descent. Our bodies were clamped against the hull of the capsule, every extremity from our necks to our feet locked firmly in place. It was standard safety for an accelerated capsule descent like this one. All we could move was our eyes. So the five of us studied each other, reassuring each other of our apparent humanity. The reality was that we didn’t know what we were, but we looked human, and that was enough. Our features and emotions were all mirror images of the next. We would don our helmets soon, each of our faces disappearing behind an opaque visor that would display only our callsign above each fireteam member’s head. 

Fireteam leader, Homunculus 1.

Homunculus 2, myself.

Then Homunculus 3.

Homunculus 4.

Homunculus 5.

That is what we would be reduced to. Nothing but genetic replicas of each other, no original body. Just as it should be.

Then the cabin was bathed in orange light, followed by a deep warning siren. “Breaching Zone of Anomaly in T minus thirty seconds,” the capsule computer chimed, “Report any abnormal sensations, thoughts, or impulses to the fireteam leader immediately.”

The body across from me barely shifted, but I could only think of how demonic he now looked in the orange light. Ten seconds. Five.

“Breaching now. Good luck, fireteam.”

And with that our connection to the outside went dark. Zones of Anomaly operate by different rules, as if they were different dimensions entirely. The shuddering capsule went silent as we entered. The only sound came from our respiration masks, carefully metering our breath. Air sucked in. Click. Air hissing out.

Why had our descent gone silent? We should have been falling into atmosphere, but now it was as if we had returned to the depths of space.

“Brace for impact in ten,” Homunculus 1 said over comms, the signal sent straight to a chip embedded in each of our heads. His right arm had been released from its restraint, and now he studied his forearm display, no doubt charting our descent. “Nine, eight, seven . . .”

At five, the thrusters ignited, guiding us softly to the planet’s surface. Touchdown.

With a mechanical hiss, our restraining cocoons dislodged themselves from the capsule walls, guided center and down by metal arms until the floor opened into an airlock chamber. Our restraints released themselves one by one in a series of mechanical clicks, until we could finally stumble out onto the airlock floor.

“Arm yourselves,” Homunculus 1 said.

We nodded. As the metal arms drew upward once again, sets of gear were revealed, locked in little holsters to the wall. Tactical suits, grenades, threat scanners, oxygen tanks, helmets, rifles, sidearms. Everything that would have been deadly against anything human was here. I doubted it would be enough.

By labeling our enemy a god, the Administration admitted that they had no idea what they were up against. A foe that could warp the laws of physics, they said. Manipulate the mind,  distort time. We Homunculi, on the other hand, were easily expendable. There had only been three encounters with different Anomalies in the past, and all had ended in the death of the fireteams present. They had been outdated models, but they were superhuman just the same. It was clear the Administration was still assessing how powerful their enemy truly was. We were the sacrifices for the greater cause. Just as it should be.

I settled the helmet over my face, glancing back toward the others. They had all finished strapping on their gear at the same time. Homunculus 1 nodded to us. “Disembark.”

He flicked open a control panel, pressed hard on a button inside. Warning lights appeared. I checked my rifle over one last time as the air was slowly sucked from the capsule. The lights flashed green, the airlock door slid open. “For the greater good,” Homunculus 1 said, releasing his rifle’s safety and stepping out onto Ankou’s desolate surface.

“H-2, H-3, report.”

“Two more found, north hallway. That makes twenty two out of fifty two accounted for. Look to have decayed similarly to the others. That is to say, not much at all. Seems like they were killed just hours ago. Blood’s still wet.”

“Cause of death?”

“Unconfirmed. Both have their eyes gouged out, looks to be their own doing. Standard response to seeing a physical Anomaly. Aside from that no visible injury. Might mean we have something to shoot at, though.”

“Alright, that’s enough exploration. Time to regroup. We search the western wing next–”

“H-1, we got eyes. Something just ran across the adjoining hallway. Permission to engage?”

“Denied, H-1, 4, 5, enroute to your position. Hold until regroup.”

“H-1, it’s talking to us. Hid just beyond the intersection, talks human-like . . . introducing itself as an Akuzawa employee, but won’t show its face.”

“What’s the threat detector reading?”

“Inhuman.”

“Then trust the tech. H-2, H-3, do not engage. Whatever it says, do not respond.”

“Roger. Will not respond.”

“H-2 here . . . argh . . .  I’m having . . . an abnormal experience. H-3, watch me.”

“H-2, what’s your status?”

“He’s bad, H-1. Something’s got a hold of him.”

“Anomaly status?”

“Still talking down the hallway. No, something’s different. It’s slurring its sentences now.” 

“I . . . I can’t . . . how long . . . how . . . long . . .”

“H-2? H-3, what’s H-2’s status?”

“Looks like he’s in pain. Curled up. I’m still watching the hallway.”

“AAAAAAAARGH . . . KILL ME . . . KILL ME!”

“He’s lost it, H-1, permission to neutralize?”

“Denied, take H-2’s rifle and sidearm, do not fire. We’re there any second now.”

The gunshot was close enough that everyone heard it, even without comms. 

“It's in my eyes, it's in my eyes, it's in my eyes, my eyes, eyes . . .”

By the time H-1, H-4, and H-5 reached the north hallway, H-2 was nowhere to be seen. Their threat detectors read nothing, human or inhuman, down the hallway H-3 had been covering. All that was left was H-3’s body, his rifle, and a single discharged shell. His helmet had been wrestled off him, lying some ways across the floor, the glass visor shattered. Claw marks laced his face, his eye sockets sunken pits. 

In each gloved, bloody hand lay an eye.

Why were they hunting me? I didn’t understand. Something had taken control of them, possessed them, urged them to turn against me. My breath was ragged, my respiration mask clicking incessantly with every breath in an attempt to keep up. All I had was a knife. They had their rifles. For some reason, mine wouldn’t function. It was linked to my genetics, would only fire when it was in my hand, but the rifle wouldn’t recognize me as myself. I had thrown it away hours before. Or was it longer? I forget how long it had been since I had woken in that room, dust coating my suit and mask, down to the final dregs of my oxygen. With how we Homunculi were trained, a single canister should have lasted us days.

I had killed one of the imposters already, ambushed it as it rounded a corner and slit its throat. My threat detector was broken as well. It hadn’t recognized my kill as an Anomaly, but was constantly informing me that an Anomaly was near. Close, somewhere. I couldn’t get away from it. I had taken a shot to the leg, but my genetics and training nullified most of the pain. I could still run. And run I did. I could hear them in the hallways, moving together, careful and tactical, attempting to cut me off or corner me in a crossfire. I wouldn’t let them. I would survive, there had to be a way. If the rest had died, at least Homunculus 2 would return successfully.

“It’s useless. My last mag’s spent, switching to sidearm.”

“No matter how much we kill it, it keeps getting up.”

“Coming at us with that damn knife. Ever since H-2’s vitals went dark.”

“Getting up like it never died, like time just looped for it.”

“Who’s left?”

“H-4, H-5. We lost H-1 somewhere. Where?”

“It’s got us too, hasn’t it?”

“I keep thinking we need to report these abnormal thoughts, then I remember there’s no one left to report to.”

“Keep fighting.”

“What?”

“Keep going. The loop, it keeps looping, but somehow . . . somehow there will be a way. It can’t keep fighting forever.”

“This damn eclipse. If we got out of the eclipse . . .”

“We already tried that. You don’t remember? We tried running for ours, away from the facility. No use.”

“You’re lying.”

“It just kept chasing us.”

“That never happened, we never . . . oh, I remember.”

“Always closing in.”

“Two left, only us two.”

“I want to rip out your eyes.”

“ . . . don’t shoot me, H-4.”

“What are you . . . I’m not the one with the gun, you are. Put it down.”

“Don’t shoot me.”

“Hey, what–”

“Don’t, please . . .”

“I don’t care.”

“He’s found us.”

“We’ve found you.”

“No. That’s not–”

“We’re in this forever.”

End of operation recording.

Report to Administration of Control Regarding the Results of the Ankou Zone of Anomaly

Tags: physical Anomaly, mental Anomaly, time distortion, “timeless eclipse”

Results:

Homunculus 1, assumed KIA

Homunculus 2, MIA

Homunculus 3, assumed KIA

Homunculus 4, MIA

Homunculus 5, MIA

With this sacrifice, we are one step closer to ascertaining the truth of God.