Jake Young, Chapter 6 The storm had dissipated, its furious energy spent and gone as if it were a fleeting nightmare. In its wake, the dome lay in ruins—its protective embrace now just a memory for the evacuees who found temporary sanctuary among the stars. Orbiting high above the planet's surface, the three space stations stood sentinel, their metallic forms glinting like distant lighthouses among the cosmic ocean. Below them, on the scarred face of a world seeking redemption, Jake Young piloted his scout ship over vast expanses of wilderness. Beside him, an array of monitors buzzed with silent intensity, relaying data from Orion, the ever-vigilant AI companion tasked with aiding humanity's quest for a new home. Orion had confirmed the coordinates to the ancient mountain city, but enroute to this relic of a forgotten civilization, another anomaly beckoned to Jake's insatiable curiosity—an ancient road stretching across the continent with mathematical precision. A linear marvel bordered by sentinel trees that had withstood the eons, their gnarled branches swaying in homage to the sky. "Look at that," Jake murmured, words barely escaping his lips as awe constricted his throat. His fingers graced the controls, guiding the ship lower. A familiar itch sparked in the recesses of Jake's mind—the allure of the unknown beckoning him with its siren song. With a deft touch, he signaled the rest of the scout team. "Let's land and investigate. There could be answers here." Seven vessels descended, their sleek forms casting elongated shadows upon the ancient thoroughfare. Dust rose in greeting, swirling around the ships like wraiths at twilight. As the landing gear locked into place with a series of mechanical clicks, Jake's pulse quickened—not from exertion, but from a sensation he couldn't quite articulate. "Something's off," he confessed, eyes scanning the dusky horizon where daylight surrendered to encroaching darkness. The scanners painted a picture of tranquility, yet his instincts screamed dissent. He toggled the switches, enhancing the resolution, but the digital eyes revealed nothing amiss. "Could just be nerves," Becky offered from her scout ship—a feeble attempt at reassurance. "Perhaps," Jake conceded, though the prickle at the base of his skull belied his words. He leaned back in his chair, the synthetic fabric cool against his skin, and tried to shake the sense of unease that clung to him like a second shadow. "Stay alert," he advised the team, his voice an anchor in the sea of uneasiness that threatened to drown them. "There's more to this place than meets the eye." The stillness of the alien night pressed against the hulls of the scout ships like a suffocating veil. Jake leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the viewport as if he could somehow detect the invisible presence that set his nerves on edge. The darkness before them seemed all-consuming, an abyss from which there was no escape. "Commander, I... I swear something's out here," crackled a voice over the comm-link. It was Rodriguez, piloting Scout Three, his tone laced with unease. "It's like we're being watched." "Stay calm," Jake advised, though the tightness in his throat betrayed his own apprehension. "Keep your sensors active and report any anomalies." "Copy that," came the hesitant response. A sudden burst of static erupted through the channel, followed by a frantic voice. "Something's attacking the ship!" Finch in Scout Two yelled, his words tumbling over one another in a crescendo of terror. "I can hear it—tearing at the hull!" "Finch, hold position," Jake commanded, his heart hammering against his ribcage. "All units, spotlights on Two, now!" The night was suddenly ablaze with light as beams converged on Scout Two. Shadows danced and retreated under the glare, but the vessel remained unscathed, no assailant in sight, its armor pristine. "Nothing's there, Finch," Jake asserted, scanning the illuminated area for signs of disturbance. "Your ship is secure. No breaches detected." "Are you blind? It's ripping through!" Finch's voice pitched higher, strained with raw panic. "Visual confirmation all around. There's nothing outside your ship," Becky interjected, her voice steady even as her fingers flew across her console, seeking evidence to corroborate Finch's claims. "Maintain your positions," Jake ordered, though his mind raced for logical explanations. The sense of being watched had morphed into a tangible threat—a threat that left no trace, an enigma defying their understanding of reality. The engine's roar shattered the tense silence as Scout Two veered off course, its thrusters igniting with reckless abandon. "We're doomed—they'll kill us all! I'm getting out of here!" Finch's voice crackled through the com-link, wild with an abject terror that sent a shiver down Jake's spine. "Finch, listen to me," Jake said, his voice an anchor in the storm of panic. "You need to power down your engines and land. There's nothing attacking you." But the words were dust in the void; Scout Two was already clawing its way through the atmosphere, desperate to escape an invisible predator. The scout ship ascended with fervent haste, leaving behind a plume of particulates swirling in the night air. "Dammit," Jake muttered under his breath, the unsettling sensation of unseen eyes upon him intensifying. He toggled the switch on his console with a deliberate motion. "All units, this is Jake. Land immediately and activate your spotlights. Sweep the area. We're missing something." One by one, the ships obeyed, descending with cautious precision onto the ancient road. Spotlights flared to life, their beams slicing through the murk, revealing nothing but the towering silhouettes of primordial trees and the unyielding tarmac beneath them. "Anything?" Jake queried, his gaze locked on the high-resolution monitors displaying the feed from the external cameras. "Negative," came Becky's prompt reply. Her voice, usually a calm oasis, now betrayed a hint of unease. "Sensors are clear across the board. No life signs, no movement, not even a breeze." "Keep scanning," Jake instructed, his analytical mind grappling with the dissonance between their technology's reassurances and the primal dread that slithered along his consciousness. He leaned closer, scrutinizing every pixel, every shadow, for the merest suggestion of a threat. But the landscape remained obstinately still, undisturbed by any force save for their own intrusive presence. The scout team's vigil persisted, a tableau of light against darkness, searching for a danger that refused to manifest itself under their probing gaze. Jake's hand hovered over the hatch release, his heart a maelstrom of trepidation and resolve. The clammy grip of fear upon him, he pressed the button; the hatch cycled open with a hiss that seemed to echo the whispers of dread in his mind. The night air rushed in, cool and foreboding, as if carrying with it the essence of an ancient enigma. He stood at the threshold, the urge to flee tugging at his sinews. With a measured breath, Jake crossed the boundary from the safety of his vessel into the unknown. The darkness enveloped him, a velvet shroud that threatened to suffocate his courage. He reached out, fingertips grazing the rough texture of bark on a tree limb by the road. Grasping it, he wielded the makeshift club with an intensity born of desperation, his swings carving arcs of defiance against the lurking phantoms of his psyche. "Commander Young! Something... It’s ripping through! I can hear it!" The voice crackled over the coms, tinged with hysteria. "Remain on the ground," Jake commanded, his voice slicing through the static-laden air. "Do not engage thrusters. I’m coming." His steps were deliberate as he approached the beleaguered scout ship, his shadow elongating across the ancient pavement beneath the ships' spotlights. The hull of the scout craft loomed before him, unmarred by any signs of assault, belying the terror within. Yet the pilot's screams persisted, painting the air with a portrait of imminent doom. Jake circled the ship, eyes scouring every inch for evidence of the siege the pilot proclaimed. "Control yourself," he murmured, though his own pulse hammered against his temples in solidarity with the frightened pilot's plight. There was nothing. No scratches, no dents—just the cold metal reflecting his anxious visage in the dim light. "Jake?" The question came, laden with the weight of collective anxiety. "There’s nothing here," Jake replied, his words falling like stones into a still pond, ripples of uncertainty spreading through the ranks. The arboreal sentinels lining the road stood silent, indifferent witnesses to the unfolding drama. "Turn off the spotlights," Jake ordered suddenly, a plan sparking to life in his methodical mind. The lights flickered out, plunging them into a darkness so complete, it felt as though it could swallow them whole. The blackness pressed in, tangible and oppressive, and with its advance, the fear spiked—a living thing with breath and malice. "Commander?" The word was a lifeline thrown into the abyss. "I thought maybe the lights were attracting whatever it is," Jake responded, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the night itself could overhear. "We're facing more than just shadows." The unseen gaze of whatever stalked them seemed to bore into his very soul, challenging his sanity with its invisible presence. "Something's wrong with this planet..." The thought escaped his lips, a muttered confession to the void. As another cry of alarm pierced the airwaves, Jake knew they had ventured into a realm where logic faltered and only the inexplicable reigned supreme. Jake stood rigid before the scout ship's hatch, his silhouette a stark contrast against the metallic surface. His eyes scoured the smooth expanse for any sign of damage, any indication of the harrowing assault the pilot insisted was underway. Yet nothing greeted him but the cold, unyielding metal and the suffocating darkness that enveloped them. "Listen to me," Jake began, his voice calm despite the erratic pounding of his heart. "There's no one here. No creature assaulting your vessel. It's an illusion; our minds are betraying us." His words should have been a balm, but the terror refused to dissipate. The scouts' panicked breaths were audible over the coms, a staccato rhythm that underscored their collective dread. Gripping a gnarled branch he'd torn from one of the ancient trees lining the road, Jake swung at the air before the hatch with a force born of desperation. The limb sliced through emptiness, connecting with naught but the chilling void. "It's an illusion," he screamed into the com-link, the echo of his own voice carrying more conviction than he felt. "There's nothing here!" The darkness seemed to mock him, an abyssal maw waiting to consume their sanity. With every frantic heartbeat, Jake fought against the primal urge to flee, to surrender to the madness that clawed at the edges of his mind. "Stay calm," he muttered, as much to himself as to his team. "It isn’t real." "Fire! My ship is ablaze!" The cry shattered the fragile calm, a beacon of panic that ignited chaos. Jake's gaze snapped to the source, his analytical mind processing the sight before him in microseconds. The scout's vessel sat serene, unperturbed by flame or smoke, its metallic surface reflecting the ghostly light of distant stars. "Negative, there's no fire," he countered with a firmness that belied the tremor in his gut. But conviction fell on deaf ears as the hatch burst open, vomiting forth the pilot whose silhouette fled into the shadows, movements erratic, a puppet to unseen strings of terror. "Stand down!" Jake's command splintered against the backdrop of hysteria as scouts abandoned their posts, a symphony of clanging metal and choked cries. His team, once unflappable under pressure, now became marionettes of fear, their forms dancing grotesquely with weapons arcing through the night air in futile defense against phantoms. He plunged into the melee, hands outstretched, seeking to grasp reality from the snare of delusion. "There's nothing there!" But his plea drowned beneath the tide of alarm, lost in the cacophony of dread. The waves of fear lashed at Jake's resolve, each surge carrying whispers of ancient horrors, pulling him under. He warred with his senses, the scientist within grappling for truth amidst the mire of deception. He could feel it then, the touch of something ineffable and malign, leaving icy trails across his psyche. "Stay focused," he commanded himself, but his voice was a stranger's—distant, detached. Jake's legs betrayed him, propelling his tall frame into the abyss of night, fleeing along the ancient road. Logic, the bastion of his sanity, crumbled as monstrous shapes coalesced in the periphery of his vision, grotesque silhouettes that writhed and morphed with every desperate blink. Breathe. Observe. React. The mantra that had guided countless decisions now gasped like a dying breath as he sprinted blind and directionless, the once-familiar contours of the world distorted by the lens of fear. The chessboards of his youth, where kings and queens fell to calculated gambits, offered no refuge from the relentless pursuit of shadows that clawed at the heels of his logic. "See what is there," he pleaded with the darkness, seeking solace in the empirical truths that had shaped his existence. But the chasm between what was real and what seemed to be had widened into an insurmountable gulf. The cold grip of dread bound him, leading Jake astray down the long, forsaken stretch of road—a path laid by ancients, now witness to his unraveling. Jake's frenetic flight drew him to a source of luminescence that punctured the oppressive dark. The glow, spectral and seductive, beckoned him forward. He stumbled toward it, the long road beneath his feet a forgotten memory, his mind ensnared by the beacon that promised an end to the nightmare. There it stood: an orb, resplendent upon its stone pedestal, pulsing with an inner light that seemed to rhythmically synchronize with the pounding of his heart. As he approached, the air around the artifact thickened, charged with an energy that clawed at the edges of his reason. With every fiber of his being screaming in protest, Jake grasped a tree branch—a makeshift weapon against the unknown. The orb's radiance intensified, casting stark shadows that danced mockingly around him. It was as if all the dread of the cosmos converged within this singular point, demanding his surrender. "Enough!" His voice shattered the silence with a conviction that belied his terror. In one desperate, blind motion, he swung the branch with all the force his terror could muster. The orb shattered with a sound like the universe exhaling, fragments of light dissipating into nothingness. The night, once thick with unspeakable fear, now lay serene and silent around him. Jake's breath came out in ragged gasps, his chest heaving from exertion and relief. He looked up, searching the sky for some sign of solace, finding instead the first blush of dawn painting the horizon with strokes of pink and gold. As the celestial hues deepened, Jake realized the extent of the night's madness. He had traversed an unknowable distance, driven by the specters conjured from the depths of his psyche. The return journey to the scout ships unfolded in contemplative solitude, steps measured by the cadence of a newfound resolve that resonated through his weary bones. With the rising sun as his steadfast companion, Jake retraced the path taken in delirium. The ancient trees bore silent witness to his return, their branches whispering secrets of endurance across the ages. He pondered the enigma of the destroyed orb, its purpose forever locked within its fractured core. Hours passed before the first of the scattered scouts emerged from the embrace of the forest, each drawn back as if by an unspoken summons. They congregated wordlessly, sharing in the collective solace of survival, their eyes reflecting the unvoiced questions that lingered in the aftermath of terror. As the last scout materialized from the lingering mists of dawn, they gathered around Jake. The ordeal behind them had forged an unspoken bond, a shared determination to face the uncertainties of this new world, their sanctuary won from the clutches of unseen adversaries. With dawn streaking across the sky, Jake and his team convened on the ancient road, their ships casting long shadows over the enigmatic path. The scouts stood in a loose circle, shoulders slumped, each weighed down by the spectral remnants of the night's terror. Their expressions were drawn, eyes hollow as they grappled with the reality of their ordeal. "Could it be some form of ancient defense mechanism?" one scout postulated. Jake, taller than most, leaned against the sleek hull of his lander. "Indeed," he affirmed, his gaze unflinching. "A sentinel designed to instill fear, to protect this world from intrusion." "Perhaps we should heed its warning," suggested another, voice tinged with the residue of dread. "Abandon this planet and its phantoms?" Jake shook his head, a decisive motion that stilled the murmurs of assent. "We have no other sanctuary to claim. The creators of these sentinels vanished eons before our arrival. This is their legacy, but we will not let it deter us. We understand the nature of our adversary now." His resolve imparted a measure of calm to the group. They looked to him, seeking the stability his analytical mind offered in the face of the unknown. "George," Jake spoke into the communicator, his tone measured yet imbued with an urgency born of necessity. His freckled skin, usually kissed by the sun, appeared pale under the stark light of morning. "Command Module 2, what’s going on down there," George's reply crackled through, brisk and expectant. Jake relayed the ordeal of the night. "I’m sending you the energy reading of the orb, have Orion scan for more of those things. Use the anti-asteroid lasers to eliminate every detected trace." "Understood, Commander. Commencing operations." As George, his second in command, in orbit on one the three space stations prepared for the orbital bombardment, Jake's eyes roved over the treeline, his mind piecing together the puzzle of their survival against the unseen. He had often mused upon the intricacies of chess, foreseeing moves and countermoves; here, the stakes were infinitely higher. The skies above the alien world turned into a canvas of incandescent fury as Jake watched, his gaze riveted to the celestial spectacle. Lasers in their hundreds, each a harbinger of salvation and destruction, descended from the orbiting sentinels with a silent grace that belied their lethal intent. They streaked through the atmosphere, not unlike shooting stars racing toward a predetermined destiny deep within the fabric of the planet. "Orion's precise," Jake murmured, his voice a quiet undercurrent beneath the awe-inspiring display. The scouts, scattered like specters along the ancient road, stood transfixed as each beam found its target—hidden threats rendered helpless before humanity's resolve. Jake's thoughts coalesced around the strategic implications of the moment; the lasers were as pawns advancing steadily across a chessboard, clearing a path for their king's triumph. His hands, long and deft, clenched involuntarily, an echo of the battle fought not against flesh but against fear itself. In the cold light of dawn, the remnants of terror dissipated like mist at sunrise. With every orb shattered by the station's relentless assault, the promise of a new day solidified. Jake could feel the collective relief emanating from his team, a palpable shift from chaos to order. “There’s nothing left here to see, let’s get ready to launch," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument, yet devoid of any trace of triumph. "I want to see that ancient city, but let’s proceed with a bit more caution." The scouts nodded, their movements deliberate, as they returned to their ships, the wild swinging of weapons now replaced by the methodical checking of systems and data. Jake remained where he stood, the ancient trees standing sentinel around him, witnesses to a history repeating itself in the throes of birth and rebirth. As the last laser dissolved into the ether, Jake allowed himself a moment of reflection. The intensity of the night had given way to a calm introspection. The silence spoke to him, a companion in the solitude of command as he contemplated the road ahead. "Command Module 1 to Command Module 2," he spoke into the communicator once more, his voice steady, "did you get them all?" "All the ones we could find so far, but it’s a big planet," came the crisp response. "We’ll keep scanning and destroy them as we find them." "Thank you, George. Maintain scans. I don’t want to run into another one of those things." "Roger that, Commander. Hey, I’ve got Finch up here on the space station. You could charge him with desertion." “Have Dr. Stevens give him a full check-up, we need to know if there’s any side-affects to being exposed to that orb, but if he’s fine, put him back to work. George, we all ran, he just happened to run in the right direction to get away from that thing.” “Understood, Boss,” George agreed. Jake exhaled slowly, the weight of uncertainty lifting with each expelled breath. For someone who excelled in the pursuit of knowledge, the unknown had always been an adversary worthy of respect. Today, it had been an opponent they had outmaneuvered, if only for a moment. "Let's get to work," Jake announced to the scouts, determination lining his every word. "This planet still has secrets yet to yield."