The Corvette glided towards the gate, and the closer we came in proximity the thicker the atmosphere of the craft became. It was alive with the inquisitive murmers of the crew, as each tried to assemble whatever facts and speculation they had heard into an intelligible tale.

"Wasn't the Grant once commandeered by some outlaws, or something of the sort? Like, twenty years ago?"

"Think it was about twenty-three, but yeah. The craft supposedly went into disrepair after TSA retaliation, which is good for us. I heard rumor that some TSA technology was left behind on the Grant; we're years ahead of our time, I swear."

"So it went into disrepair. So what happened after?"

"Standard recovery missions occured shortly after. coverups, liquidations, the works. Not like we'd let our tech slip into the hands of some corporation or the media or something....not without a fight, anyway."

Silence.

"Wait. The Grant was destroyed, right? Then where the--"

"It's not the same craft." Karl had finally taken interest in the ramblings of his crew. Not to say the interest lasted long, however. "There's nothing connecting the two crafts. Now shut up."

Once again, silence. One could hear the roar of the engines from within the cabin. The pilot gave a quick glance back at us; even without his visor on you wouldn't be able to detect any emotion in his face. He quickly turned back to his work.

"We're about to enter the gate." Rolling his head back and placing his machine gun across his lap, Karl seemed moreso enthused than before.

The glowing portal loomed before the humble majesty of the Frontiersmen ship. Suddenly gravity went to work, and the crew was suddenly immersed in a stream of infinite dimensions. Spectrums of light filled the cabin and cockpit with dancing faeries. Every single sound was amplified tenfold; the roar of the engines became deafening, and even the clicks and blips of the pilot's control panel would aggrivate even the most hardened of individuals. That is, if anything were audible besides the engines. As quickly as it began the cataclysm of the heavens ended with a wimper, not a roar. A new system lay before them: the Yamova System.

*Jack sat idly to his lonesome next to another soldier whose name he never bothered to gather. This squadron had been freshly packed together and the recruit was terrible with names....

After landing in the gate, he had started to twitch a bit. It would be an understatement to say that he had the jitters, he was extremly nervous, almost no one knew what had gone down on this mission....and they were going to be some of the first to know....big responsibility. He brought his hand close to his face and began to mutter to himself.

"H-how many do you think there are going to be?"

Once the ship landed, depressurization began. It would be about another minute before they would be boarding, so there was nothing more to do than hope those alien scum weren't planning a reception for you. The hissing of air escaping into the ever-closing vaccum made the scene even more uncomfortable.

Karl got up and paced restlessly (which was not an easy task in the cramped compartment), wishing he could just get off the damn ship. He'd never admit it, but he was quite claustrophobic. You wouldn't be able to tell from his nonchalant demeanor either. His attention suddenly turned his attention to the mutterings of the new recruit a few men down. Reluctant to upset the nervous cadet, Karl finally consented to his will and indulged Jack.

"You never really know how many there are until you've counted the bodies. It all depends on how long they've been given to spread. We could face only a handful, we could have to gun down a dozen or two. Just keep your wit about you."

Feeling he had done right, Karl began to feel somewhat relieved. Yet he could not look the still nervous recruit in the face...

A smile spread across the face of first rank officer Rom.
"A handful? A dozen? Hah! I should hope not. I didn't sign up for this to pick off just a few nuisances."
He began stroking his knife with a look of anticipation in his eyes.
"Besides, for a mission like this there's bound to be plenty of kharra for us to slaughter."
After twirling the knife in his hand, he forcefully stabbed it into his seat. Mumbling to himself, he said "Just give me one reason you alien scum... Just one."
Finally he grabbed his knife and put it away, safe from any accidents that could happen. Once again he smiled and began whistling happily.

All was dark...the shadows were all-comsuming...such is the umbral existance of the Kharra. Sounds could now be heard echoing through the evacuated chambers of the Grant, which became more audible with time. There was a hissing; the rattling and creaking of the metal atmospheric gate; footsteps clattering on a walkway; the harsh dissonent tones of an alien language. All at once, light was flooded into the world. The feel of a synthetic world surrounded the creature, and the first thing it witnessed was it's origin: the Hive. Its vision then shifted to the congergation of its bretheren the Hive also willed into this new existance.

A conciousness began to flood their minds, that of the Hive Mind: "You are my children; you live to serve only me. I have made you to be for one purpose and one purpose only. Intruders threaten our presence, my presence. Go now, and make them suffer for ever questioning my omnipotence! Cleanse the intruders!"

That was all that was neccessary; the collection of beasts took one last look at the ominous sphere suspended before them, then proceeded to scour every surface (quite literally; every floor, wall cieling and ventilation shaft) in pursuit of an unknown enemy.