Eon

Chapter 3

Sam sat in the middle of his canvas home, watching as the fire in the middle of the room turned and twisted. He sat complacent, at ease, and when the humming of machines awoke him from his daydreams he found himself hating everything, from the Insurgents to this alien world he was shackled to.

Two Insurgents entered then. These ones were particularly wild, with scars riddled across their flesh and tattoos etched on their faces depicting space and flames. One of them came forth, placing himself at the edge of the fire.

"We found them," the Insurgents said.
"Who?" Sam replied.

The Insurgent shifted to the side and scratched his left elbow which was dry and wrinkled. The other did not move, instead opting to stare at Sam with mad eyes.

"Natives, on the edge of section eight." The Insurgent's gaze shifted to his companion, who did not react. "We found two. They look strange, Sam. Real strange."

Sam laughed as he rose from his throne of filth and then exited his canvas home. He coughed as fresh air consumed him, made him sick.

It was morning. A cool mist had formed on the edges of vision, parading across endless greenland. The great buffalo had long since left. They had been butchered or had fled. Remnants lay here and there, their bodies bloated.

The Insurgents had expanded since their coming. They were now reaching towards the edge of the nearby forest. Some whispered, saything that there was moving inside the tall and lithe trees, something crawling in the darkness.

Sam began to head towards the armory. The military was pressing hard, harder than they usually did. Something was wrong. Eon was too far along. Terraformation usually lasted months to complete. The green and vibrant taste of history formed only with the slow culling and trimming of scientific ingenuity, bringing forth the second nature. The quickness of Eon's progression made Sam uneasy. They had to move faster. He turned to find the two Insurgents before still following him, like children.

"Get everyone ready," Sam commanded.

The Insurgents nodded and then went away. Sam watched them go with unflinching eyes. He did not truly care about the Insurgents, or their well-being. They were expendable. The military did not pay Sam well enough for him to babysit these delinquents.

After an hour had passed a group had formed, composed of those Insurgents who had stayed behind from the patrol missions. Sam watched as they armed themselves. Most of them were drunk or high, yet each had a remarkable gleam in their eyes. They sought the adrenaline rush.

Sam let forth a sharp whistle. "Alright, here we go! No hesitation."

The Insurgents shot forth, their machines pushing them into the edges of Eon. Sam watched as the streaks of metal ran ahead. He smiled, his stick-fingers combing through his gray hair.

"All of it like clockwork," he said to no one.

***

The Insurgents sped across the grasslands, skimming the top of the green sea with ease. Kerry looked forward earnestly as he searched for familiar landmarks. They were getting close. That morning he had seen what looked like huts in the distance. He did not stay long enough to see much, but the village pointed to a native presence.

They passed a large tree with mangled branches. Kerry looked back towards a fellow Insurgent who nodded and then raised his pistol skyward and fired a single shot. The other Insurgents began to scream as the bloodlust began to mount.

Kerry spotted a being ascending the hill in front of them. It was blue-skinned, with a flat forehead and odd, slit-shaped eyes. Kerry smiled, readying himself, absorbing the cries of his own. But then he noticed then that the alien was carrying something. Something metal, with painted violet streaks.