Tiny insects hop across the surface of the slow moving river. Their tiny wings are too weak to remain airborne for long. They act as the perfect bait; oblivious to the two larger sets of hungry eyes watching them. Across the universe water runs clear, but here in this jungle it has a purple hue. It mirrors the violet leaves of the nearby foliage. The group gathers and hovers over a mass of underwater rocks, disturbing the still surface with small ripples. Four mandibles unfold casually beside the rocks and the Mawfish strikes. It leaps out of the water, closing its wide mouth around the center of the pack, consuming the majority of the bugs. In that same instant, Jack twitches his right wrist, sending his fishing spear flying into the center of the fish.

  Pulling the spear back, he snatches the limp fish off and throws it in his pack. It’s easily a four pound fish, enough food to sustain him for an entire day. He leaned his three-pronged spear over his shoulder and began walking to the Bilet tree. He spent a countless amount of hours whittling and carving the white wooden spear, though it took a lot less time for him to make the spear than the camouflage leaf clothing he wore. If any other human saw him he would look like a primitive caveman, except for the USFA patch sewn onto one of the leaves covering his chest. The patch reminded him of his previous life, which had already been forgotten in the four months he’d been stranded on this planet.

  Jack missed the idea of his life from before more than he actually missed it. Purely focusing on survival brought him a certain peace from the hidden genes passed from his primeval human ancestors. A gene that came to light when constantly on the verge of life and death.

  At first, when he was still trying to figure out how to survive day to day, his spear would get caught on thieving vines and twisted branches, but now he moved with more grace. Unconsciously dodging the many obstacles of the jungle floor.

  Sweat pours from his body like a waterfall coming out from every pore. It leaves behind a dangerous scent trail that many predators had the ability to follow. There’s no helping it, such is the exhausting reality of hiking through the ferocious jungle. He advanced through the dense, white wood trees. Wide leaves and thin branches brushed against his body until he arrived at the small clearing. In the center, the Bilet tree rises like a monument from God. It’s four times as wide as him and about ten feet tall. Around the trunk were bright pink ferns that curled up as he approached.

  Bilets, box-shaped yellow fruits hanging from the tree, are inedible to humans. Although inedible to Jack, something else thrived off of them. Something that Jack needed. Flame moths loved to lay their offspring in hollowed out fruits. Jack pulled out a dirty jar from his pack and waited under the tree, not daring to move. Minutes crawl by slower than his previous time waiting at the DMV. Eventually, a young flame moth darts out of a fruit, its fiery wings giving it its position away. He leaps forward, encasing it in the glass jar.

  It bounces around the inside of the jar almost too fast for the naked eye to follow. With a lifespan of a few hours, they had to move with maximum speed. The mothling’s wings would burn to ash before the sun set that day, and moments later its body.

  Hot sweat soaked every inch of his pants and shirt by the time he reached his temporary base. His base consisted of a sleeping bag under a lean-to, a stone-enclosed fire pit, and a trunk full of random scavenged supplies. Around the perimeter are solar-powered sonar devices that would hopefully deter most native hunter species.

  He assembled various dry sticks into a pyramid. His dad was always a better outdoorsman than him, but a few lessons stuck, including how to create a good structure for a fire. Jack opened the moth jar, holding it against the unlit campfire. Immediately, the moth flew into the sticks and bounced around, stuck in the center. Its wings scorched the sticks closest to it. The only way to create a fire faster than with a flame moth would be using straight gasoline, a luxury he didn't own. Soon, the tiny sparks became a blazing fire.

  Sparing no time, he filleted his fish and threw it on the campfire. Suddenly, a high pitched piercing scream filled the campsite just as his meal was finished cooking. He fell to the ground, cupping his ears as hard as possible. His ear drums were shredded by the nonstop assault that rattled his skull. Using all the willpower he contained, he pushed himself up and scanned the campsite.

  An Emitter closes in on his food. The cone-shaped appendages above its canid body blast the noise in Jack's direction. He leaps to his backpack and rips out a pair of orange earplugs. Haphazardly, he shoves them into his ears. Blood drips down from his ears and onto his dirty hands. With the noise subsided, he sprints to the creature. Right before it has the chance to consume his fish he lands a full force kick to its head.

  It reels back at the hit and the noise comes to a halt. Its head quivers at the unexpected pain and it jumps into nearby foliage. Deadly creatures, but also cowards. Any form of resistance would scare them away, Emitters were more of a scavenger than predator. The meal went without any other incidents, but in case it decided to come back he left the earplugs in.

  Nightfall arrives, a pitch black shroud of darkness. Jack struggles to pull out his datapad. When it's turned on, the bright light blinds his dilated eyes. The display reads: Arrival in thirteen hours, rendezvous at coordinates 131072.50:131072.50:5731072.50. For the first time in months, hope blossomed in his heart. He might actually make it off this death trap of a planet. Although he should be relieved, he can’t shake an ominous feeling. He sighs, says a silent prayer, and drifts into sleep.

  The packing list was as light as Jack managed. Datapad, fishing spear, a handful of berries and nuts scavenged the past week, combat knife, flare gun with two flares left, and his foldable shovel sharpened enough to cut small trees and wood. Any minute now, his rescue ship would fly overhead, landing a few miles north. He tossed his combat knife in the air, catching it with his other hand. Jack starts the hike.

  At midday, he sees the smoke. A huge plume of black clouds snakes up high into the sky, its tail coming from the direction of the rendezvous. He takes off in a careless sprint as fast as possible. The adrenaline in his body lightens the weight of the backpack. A few thousand feet from the ship, his foot catches on an upright root causing him to fall face first. He tumbles down an incline towards a steep cliff, previously obscured. The fingers on his left hand claw at the dirt trying to stop the momentum but fail. At the edge, he manages to grab a small tree. His legs dangle over the edge as he pulls. Once Jack pulls himself to safety, he shoots a glance down the canyon. It stretches into an abyss of darkness. No telling how deep from up here. The edge goes over the horizon in each direction and is a couple hundred feet wide. His journey around would take a few days.

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  On the first day, he broke off his spear into the hide of a rhetorvan. The carnivorous plant slithered away with the three spearheads deep into its mouth. The second day, he went through the last of his food, drank all of his water, and used both flares in his gun to signal the crew of the ship with no response. Towards the end of the third day, he arrived.

  A trail of broken trees and scorched earth led him to the ship. The fires had been out for a while, but charred remains of creatures and plants were breadcrumbs leading Jack to that which he sought. The graveyard of a ship was hardly recognizable, covered in the red fleshy webbing of the Northex. Jack crouched in the undergrowth scouting for a way past the Northex and into his last hope. The air smells of oil, machinery, and bile.

  Three feet tall, organized, and intelligent, the Northex are one of the more formidable species on the planet. In his eyes they were the apex predator of the planet. They had a tough exoskeleton, six legs, and specialized arms depending on their respective caste. The builders had nozzle arms that spewed the fleshy structure used to craft their hives. Currently the ship was surrounded by the unassuming workers. They are too occupied with adding to their new home to worry about humans lurking about.

  Soldiers had organic shears for right arms able to cut through most materials. Their left arms shaped similar to keys, used to open the organic doorways to their nests. Two soldiers stood like watchdogs at the landing bay of the ship. The landing doors were open, but a wall of flesh webbing enclosed it. If the creatures had already infiltrated the ship, survivors weren’t probable. There might be an antenna or other electronics scavengeable. With a good enough haul, Jack has the know-how to rig up a long-range communication device. Then it was a matter of signaling home to send another rescue operation. Though, how many more would be willing to die to save a single person?

  If the supply room hasn’t been broken into yet, then there should be months' worth of rations as well. And even if he couldn’t loot anything, what kind of person wouldn’t check the ship for survivors. While there's only a miniscule chance of a survivor, that doesn’t completely eliminate the possibility. There could very well be a poor, unlucky soul hanging on by a thread. Three months ago when Jack first arrived, being the sole survivor was the most challenging time of his life and he would have given a limb to have anyone else with him.

  He snuck towards the pair of gate guardians, taking his time to concentrate on complete silence. The combat knife in his right hand and the small shovel in his left. About fifteen feet away the closest one turned. Its antenna twitched, while its black obsidian eyes scanned the surroundings for intruders. Its unblinking eyes stared at Jack, but it didn't make the first move. His right hand moves like lightning throwing the knife and the blade disappears deep into the skull of the giant insect. It collapses violently, seizing on the ground.

  The second soldier charged. A bladed arm slashed at his stomach. Jack backstepped out of the way just to find the blades coming at him again. Relentlessly the creature attacked, not leaving any openings. It grazes his left leg drawing a thin line of blood. He slams the shovel down onto the top of the creature's right arm, knocking it into the dirt. The Northex tries to move it but the arm is embedded into the ground. He lets out a battlecry and slashes sideways, cutting the creature's head in half.

  Jack heaves with exhaustion. All around the builder Northex watch, unmoving. He flips them off and if on cue the bugs go back to work. With his shovel in hand he hacks off the left arm. Taking it, he walks to the door of flesh and sticks it into a hole in the center of it. The ridges on the arm hit the organic lock mechanism in the right order and the door opens wide, letting him enter the bowels of the hive ship.

  The interior of the ship had been rearranged into a series of tunnels of flesh and steel. It no longer resembled a human construct. No room is untouched. Storage rooms are filled with sacks of wet soggy bunches of eggs. Any and all supplies opened and trashed.

  He wanders cautiously down the twisting guts of the hive, trying to keep track of each turn he takes. In some rooms and corridors, the metal had been cut apart and separated, the fleshy webbing being used to rearrange and expand the ship's interior.

  All the electronics in the ship are fried, either by the crash landing, an internal issue, or maybe it was the red goo that seeped through minuscule cracks and screw holes. The mission stunk of failure, the longer he stays the bigger the risk. Jack sighed and turned around to leave. In part because of the lack of supplies and also an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach that had been there since he first saw the ship.

  The turns behind him twist and curve differently from what he remembers and after thirty minutes of wandering he is lost. He felt akin to a rat trapped inside a maze full of starving cats. He passes by the medical bay whose doors are shut, the first intact human doors he has seen since arriving. The control panel is busted and the doors don’t budge when he tries to open them with his bare hands. Using the shovel as a crowbar, he leverages his total weight into prying apart the door.

  Interior locks click and snap and it slides open. His shovel is bent at a ninety degree angle from the abuse. He tosses it to the side, cursing himself.

  A soldier is slumped over on the ground leaning on one of the surgical tables that fill the room. He rushes to the soldier's body checking for a pulse. There is none. Jack takes the dog tags off and prays.

  Jack pulls a walkie-talkie from the soldier's hip and whispers into it. “Hello. Is anyone… Is anyone there?” His voice doesn’t sound like he remembers. It's too rough and shaky.

  A thin, wispy voice answers, “H-h-hello? Where are you?”

  Jack laughs, and tears of joy fill his eyes, “I’m in the medbay, but I’m lost. What about you?”

  “Don’t move, we’re on our way.”

  Jack waited watching the door, his hopes and prayers answered.

  A northex walks in. One arm is attached to a human head while the other is fused into a walkie talkie. Hundreds of soldier northex begin to pile through the doorway towards him, all along the walls and ceiling.

  He grabs a pistol from the dead soldier and pushes his back against the wall. They half surround him, but as one moves towards him, he fires a shot directly into the center of its head.

  They continue inching forward, testing their prey; he fires again, killing another one. Where one is killed, another takes its place. This goes on until his gun clicks empty. There is no other option but to fight in close quarters.

  He grabs a nearby IV pole and swings wildly. Many are fended off for a brief moment, but eventually, they see the pattern of his movements, and one scratches his left arm. When he tries to retaliate, a different one gives him a gash across his cheek. He falls to his knees as another one pierces his left leg from behind. Pinned to the ground, the creatures finished off their prey.