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21-Offense was an arid moon with jagged outcroppings of rock and yellow sand blown about by harsh winds. You had heard mentions of it in passing but had never been there yourself. Members of the company often complained about massive worms and large dogs wandering its landscape. It’s not like you were a newcomer, you had been doing this job for over a week now, but this was your first “intermediate” moon.
So, of course, you were a bit on edge. Deciding on a buddy system for your 4 person crew, you and another employee named James were heading to the main entrance while your co-workers, ladder in hand, went for the fire exit.
Your heart was doing tiny backflips in your chest as you touched your gloved hand to a small, shiny enamel pin fastened to your suit. It was a design with two holly leaves and two red berries. It was the only thing you owned. You had been so excited finding something so vibrant on a planet like Experimentation, especially when everything there is either gray or orange. It was festive and it made you happy, as pathetic as that may sound.
As you both neared the entrance, he turned his head to you and gave a thumbs up. The entrance to the facility was scratched and matte. Sand had been blowing against it for God knows how long, so that made sense. The dull shine of James’ visor faced you.
“Are you ready?” He questioned, hand resting on the handle of the door. You steeled yourself.
“Yeah. Open it up.” He opened the door and went inside, You followed behind him.
Like clockwork, a switch in your head was flipped. Now, you need to find scrap. You needed to move quickly, lest you get preyed upon by one of the many dangers lurking here. You both moved quickly, choosing a corridor and moving down it. Both of you moved in tandem, your collective footsteps sending echoes down the halls.
A minute of walking passed. No sign of any scrap. You were scanning over and over, but there was still nothing in sight. Weren’t intermediate moons supposed to have a higher scrap count? I see nothing.
James turned towards you while still walking forward. He seemed calm.
“This is your first trip on Offense, right?” He stopped, glancing at a plastic fish at his feet. He bent over and picked it up. You nodded.
“Yeah. I’ve been on Assurance before, which I’ve heard is similar to Offense, but never here.” James had recently been transferred from another crew, which is why he didn’t know anything about your endeavors. His transfer had been unexpected since none of your crew had died. One of you had quit, stayed at Gordion, and never seen again. James had been sent in their place. He hummed, stuffing the plastic fish into his pocket.
“Been here once before. I’ve seen quite a few bunker spiders here, so make sure you’re watching for webs. I don’t have a shovel to clear them.” Bunker spiders. You hated them. The sounds they made, the way they crawled; They creeped you out.
“Got it. Webs. Watch where I’m stepping. Okay.” Your exhale was shaky, with your nerves on fire. James glanced at you, face obscured by the company-issued masks.
“Hey, calm down. We’ll be fine. Just watch my back and I’ll watch yours, alright?” You smiled. You imagined he was smiling underneath that mask too.
“Okay. Thanks, James. That makes me feel better.” Your breathing slowed slightly.
“Hey, anytime.” His head was turned towards you as he kept walking. A question bubbled to the front of your brain.
“How come you were transferred to our crew?” You asked. James paused, staring ahead.
“They all died.” He muttered, his head turning downwards slightly. A pang of sympathy hit your heart.
“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that. How did you get out alive?” You didn’t want to prod, but he seemed professional and seasoned. Surely his crew was the same. It was hard to believe a group of veterans could all perish so easily, you thought naively. James sighed, turning a bit more to face you.
“Sheer luck and a little bit of faith.” He chuckled, ignoring mentioning any details of his escape. You nodded.
“Makes sense.” He tilted his head, placing a hand on his neck.
“When we get out of here, would you and I like to-” A loud symphony of footsteps echoed through the halls as a tall mannequin rounded a corner. You shrieked, eyes landing on the figure. It immediately stopped with a metallic clunk. James jumped at your yell. He pirouetted, now facing the Coilhead.
“Christ, you scared me.” He exhaled loudly, taking a few steps back. He was putting some distance between him and the mannequin.
“There’s two of us, we can easily take turns watching and leading each other back to the entrance-” You started strategizing until you noticed the sound of his footsteps. Leaving. “James?” You called out anxiously.
“Keep looking at it, keep it there.” He called back, quickly backtracking away.
“Wait wait- where are you going?” You snuck a glance. Footsteps sounded the moment your eyes left the mannequin. You threw your eyes back to the figure. It now was inches away. “JAMES!! Wait! Please- don’t leave me here! We can go back together-” You plead. There’s no response.
Okay. Your brain was working overtime to try and think of a way to get out of this situation. You need to find an exit, quickly. You take a few steps back, carefully and deliberately taking each step. Tripping now could cost you your life. Blinking could cost you your life.
Instinctively, a hand flew to your gorgeous, shiny pin. Calm, deep breaths. Hooh.
Thank god the hallway was so long. The Coilhead stayed in your line of sight for a long time until you hit a doorway. Blindly reaching behind you, you closed a fist around the knob and quickly shut the door. Immediately, you heard footsteps rumbling towards you.
Time to go. You turned and ran, trying to remember the exact way back to the Entrance. Hopefully, the door would hold the Coilhead long enough for you to escape. As you dashed through the cruel, metal maze, the environment around you began to blur.
Where am I? I don’t remember seeing a room like this- You begin to backtrack, stopping when your ears hear distant gunshots. James? You turn, running in the direction of the shooting. 10 seconds of running. 20 seconds. You could easily move out of the way of a turret before it begins to fire, and maybe if you meet up with James you can both leave together. Maybe he didn’t mean to abandon you.
You stop abruptly when you nearly run into a hulking black figure with two tiny white pinpricks for eyes. The spikes protruding from its back seem to distort and wiggle as it moves away, You’re so shocked you barely even react.
As quickly as those haunting eyes appeared, they disappeared around the corner. You backpedal, keeping your eyes on that section of the hall. The Bracken was something you had seen once before, but never really experienced this closely. Your co-workers always warned of looking at it for too long or not looking at it enough. Frustration welled up in your chest. Am I supposed to look or not? Why did it leave? Panic was building in your chest as you took a meek step backward.
“Oh God. Oh God oh God-” Tears well up in the corners of your eyes. The severity of your situation was beginning to hit you. Panic bubbled in your brain. “Please- No, this can’t be happe-” Your back collides with something solid.
“James?” The sound the impact made was hollow. It reminded you of…
Wood. It sounded like wood. When had you ever seen wood in the facility?
Eyes blown wide with fear, you slowly turned your head. The creature was about a foot and a half taller than you. It was a bit scratched, but the red and white paint reminded you of a toy soldier. There was a chipped and faded black hat upon its head. The teeth painted onto the face looked like a nutcracker, you distantly think. You immediately think of your holly pin, thinking of how festive both you and this thing are. Such a colorful thing, a voice in the back of your head whispers.
A fleshy eye protruding from the wood and half covered in meaty skin was nestled between two metal rods, the torso, and the round head.
It was staring at you. Unblinking.
With a click, the thing raised both arms. A glance downwards reminded you that yes, this thing is dangerous. You aren’t dreaming and there’s a giant toy soldier in front of you. You blinked, staring at the familiar metal weapon in its grasp.
Is- Is that a shotgun?
Without a moment of hesitation, you picked up your feet and ran blindly. You didn’t know where you were going. Rhythmic marching followed closely behind, paired with a taunting marching theme. If you weren’t terrified for your life, you might’ve found the tune catchy. Endearing, even. You can’t remember the last time you heard music that wasn’t the Company Tune.
Desperation clawed at your lips. Every survival instinct you didn’t know you had was howling at you. The fear was suffocating, but it kept your muscles moving and it kept you from passing out.
You and the toy soldiers’ footsteps echoed in the halls simultaneously, a constant reminder that death lurked feet behind you.
Walls flew by your vision, blurred by the tears rising in the corners of your eyes. You flew through a doorway, chest heaving from the exertion. The room was filled with metal shelves and abandoned servers. A standard Company server room, you realized.
Ducking under a shelf, you quickly navigated through the metal stands. Uncoordinated and impulsive, you slammed into a shelf, sending the servers placed on it flying to the ground. You hardly registered the loud clattering sound. Pain bloomed in your shoulder. The soldier couldn’t follow you under the shelf, it was too tall, so you should have a few extra seconds to run. Maybe.
To your horror, there was no door on the other side—just a blank wall. Your heart plunged into your stomach.
No, no, nonono nono- . Your vision became blurry from the gut-wrenching sob that escaped your lips. It’s over.
The stomping and music grew closer, taking over your sense of hearing. The creature had to be right in front of you by now. Your head throbbed with both exertion and anxiety.
Stomp, stomp. It was closing the distance. You closed your eyes, swiveling and pressing your back against the wall. I don’t think I can make it out of this.
“Make it quick.” You whispered, curling in on yourself and tensing every muscle. You were pulled taut like a slingshot. Shudders wracked your fatigued body.
Either the thing didn’t understand you or didn’t care, but it continued to grow closer. By sound, you deduced it could only be 3 or so feet away. It has a gun. You couldn’t help but feel confused. Why doesn't it just shoot me?
It stopped in front of you with a mechanical click. It’ll cock its gun any moment, and I’ll splatter across the wall. Why didn’t you just stay next to me, James? You breathed in shakily, too petrified to cry. Where is everybody? Why am I alone?
I should look. You thought distantly. Maybe it was waiting for you to look at it. Anything to end this misery. Light filtered into your iris when you cracked your eyelid. You got a better chance to look at the creature. The creature stared back.
The toy soldier was damaged. It’s... Huh. It’s a nutcracker, isn’t it? The mouth made you think of the iconic Christmas toys. Your gaze drifted to the eye. It wasn’t wooden like the rest of it, it was organic and frankly, kind of nasty-looking. The lumpy flesh surrounding hugging the eye added emphasis to the fact that yep, that’s an alien. You just wondered where the wooden shell came from.
Suddenly, the eye shifted forward, It leaned closer. You tried to lean back, but the wall prevented you. Its arm raised with a creak and a click, its hand now hovering in front of your chest. The hand not holding the shotgun, of course. It seemed to be pointing, or trying to. It can’t be easy to point without fingers. Or pull a trigger. Why did it even have a shotgun in the first place?
You gulped, looking downwards. The hand was in front of your enamel pin, but still a respectful distance away. What? The eye flicked down to your pin, then back up to your face. You both made eye contact. It repeated the motion.
It slowly moved its hand back, now gesturing to its chest. You followed it with your eyes, brows rising in surprise when you realized that this nutcracker seemed to have a pin of his own.
A replica of your holly pin. There was no visible difference as far as you could tell. You couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity of it all. One of your hands flew up to cover your giggle and the eye visibly squinted as if confused or maybe annoyed. He sees my pin and recognizes it, he must think we’re friends because of our pins.
You couldn’t help but smile. At least you weren’t in danger at this very second.
“Do you like my pin? Because it matches yours?” You spoke slowly, testing the waters. The thing still had a loaded gun inches away from your body.
The eye of the nutcracker bobbed up and down as if nodding. Guess it understands English.
It tapped its chest twice, rhythmically. The sound was moderately loud, but not startling. It arched its back slightly as if puffing out its wooden chest. You exhaled, amused. Is it bragging about it? That’s kind of.. Cute. As cute as a fleshy alien can be.
You un-tensed your body, fear slowly ebbing away. You realized belatedly that you had started calling your new friend he. He just seemed so human.
“So, since we're Pin-buddies, could you help me? I’m lost and I can’t find the exit.” You smiled, tilting your head and unclenching your hands. You hadn’t even realized your fingers were digging into your palms until you loosened them.
The thing paused, eye looking upwards and squinting as if deep in thought. It rolled to the side in a gesture you could only assume was a shrug and then bobbed again. Looks like a yes.
Eye disappearing, it spun on its heel and marched out of the server room. Startled by the quick motion, you scurried to follow behind. You didn’t want to lose your only chance of escape. Walking through the halls, you took a bit more time to observe your surroundings. You hadn’t seen any of these hallways when you were with James.
Speaking of James, you had heard a gunshot earlier. Was that a turret, or was that your newfound guide? It’s best not to ask. He could always change his mind and blow me halfway to 71-Gordion.
You took a glance behind you out of habit and stopped. Eyes widening, you spotted two pinpricks of white piercing through the darkness. The Bracken.
You hadn’t heard anything and had only seen it out of pure luck. That’s terrifying. The natural ambiance and darkness of the halls seemed to crawl up the sides of your vision as your fear spiked.
The soldier must’ve heard your steps falter because he turned around and his eye popped back out. The Bracken stood still for a second longer and then retreated behind a wall while making constant eye contact.
You shuddered. Your pin-buddy moved closer, now standing beside you. With a shake of your shoulders, you turned to him.
“Please- I need to leave. Where’s the exit?” You stared up at him, pleading. His eye stared back, motionless. You inhaled with frustration. “I need to go now.” No response. “Fine. I’ll find my way out.” You began to move, but a wooden arm stopped you.
He was looking at you. His arm was pressed horizontally across your chest, blocking you from moving past him. His eye flicked down to his hand, then back up to you. Your body shifted slightly as he nudged you, clearly trying to tell you something.
When you didn't understand the gesture, his eye rolled and he put his hand against yours.
Ohhh. He wants me to hold his hand. How does an alien even know what hand-holding is?
You couldn’t help but feel a bit bit bashful that this thing was being intimate. It was the most kindness you had seen in a while, being isolated out in space and all.
You took his wooden nub in your hands, pleasantly shocked at the feeling. You expected cold wood, but it seemed to radiate a warmth similar to that of a regular, warm-blooded animal. The surface was smooth and wouldn’t give you splinters. He seemed satisfied at that and began to walk, slowing down his gait significantly so you wouldn’t be left behind. How thoughtful.
Both of you continued moving, but you felt as light as a feather as your feet carried you. This was unheard of. There had been cases of domestication with the less intelligent specimens within facilities, but never befriending. With a shotgun-wielding wooden man by your side, the endless hallways didn’t seem so scary. The thought of safety made you smile.
And it was all because you both picked up something colorful and decided it was cool enough to wear.
The sound of your collective footsteps stopped as you stopped outside of the entrance. He turned to you as you released his hand. His eye peeked out at you, his bottom eyelid raised as if he was smiling. You moved to the door, gripping the handle and glancing over your shoulder.
The nutcracker gave you a wave. You waved back.
“Thanks, Nutcracker. I don’t know what to say. But thank you.” You wondered if your smile was visible through the helmet.
He gave a dismissal wave.
It’s nothing.
And turned on his heel, marching back into the dark expanse of 21-Offense.