First trip

The hiss of the ship's hatch echoed in the silent air as the crew prepared to disembark. Sigurt as ready as ever to brave the way, sending near the green "open" button. Behind him stood the other two, Doug, ever ready and self assured of his own competence and Lalo, the silent and prepared type.

Steven stood behind them, with his back against the cold metal wall, tugging at the stiff orange fabric of his hazmat suit, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. The suit's helmet felt too close to his skin, the visor slightly fogged from his anxious breath. Behind him, the other three crew members were similarly suited up, their faces obscured by reflective visors, making them look like anonymous figures—faceless, interchangeable.

"Let's move," Captain Sigurt ordered, his gruff voice coming through the suit's built-in voice enhancing comms. The captain was the first to step outside, followed by Doug, the pilot, and Private Lalo, the crew's muscle. Steven hesitated for a brief second before joining them, the sensation of stepping into an unknown world making his heart race. The ship's ramp extended onto a barren landscape of rust and ruin, a desolate planet that stretched out endlessly beneath a dim, sunless sky.

As he stepped onto the gritty soil, Steven took in his surroundings. The planet was a wasteland, covered in an endless expanse of sand, jagged rocks, and dead plants that looked like they had been scorched by eons of neglect. The landscape was dominated by enormous industrial structures, their hulking forms standing in various stages of decay. Giant pipes, thick with rust, snaked across the terrain like veins, weaving through the skeletons of long-abandoned machinery. Cranes, towers, and other monolithic structures loomed in the distance, all of them corroded and half-buried in the earth, forgotten relics of a time long gone.

The air tasted stale through his helmet's filter, but at least the suit kept him from inhaling whatever toxins floated around. As he took in the surreal sight of the ruined machinery and desolation, he couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging at him since the moment he signed up for this nightmare and began suiting up.

"Captain," Steven called, walking up beside Sigurt. "Why doesn't the company issue us any weapons? If there are monsters out here, it seems like we'd need something to defend ourselves."

Sigurt slowed his pace, glancing at Steven from behind his visor before turning his gaze back to the vast expanse ahead. "I've wondered that myself," he admitted, his voice crackling over the comms. "Been here a long time, and I still don't know for sure. Company policy is to issue suits and tools, nothing else. You're expected to survive, but not to kill."

Steven frowned. "But why? What's the point of putting us out here if we're just going to be at the mercy of these monsters? There is no way weaponless humans can pose any threat to them"

Sigurt paused at the top of a small hill, looking out over the horizon. "It's not about what's logical," he said finally. "The company doesn't want the monsters dead. Not really. I don't know why, but they seem to value them. Maybe for research. Maybe something darker. And from what I've seen, it wouldn't matter if we had guns anyway. Some of these things... they don't die. Not easily, at least, or so I've heard."

Steven rised an eyebrow at that statement and asked "Heard? What do you mean? Heard from who?"

Sigurt sighed, as they kept walking and said "Survivors. Some people just give up. They can't fulfill the contracted period and simply steal the ship and resort to piracy. This company may not care about its employee safety, but they make so damn good ships! Though none make it past a certain time. Even the best of space pirates just die when the company's recycler kicks in."

Steven marvelled at the thought, maybe he could use this option if he, for some reason or another, isn't able to complete the contract. Maybe he can desert this company and find a distant RimWorld to live on. It might not be home, but living here would be better than where he will be sent if he dies.

Sigurt, none the wiser of Steven's thoughts continued his story. "I've fought one of said pirates during my military days. Captured him before the recycler got to him, was worth a pretty bounty. He was mostly harmless and told us about his life during his containment.

Some stories were pretty horrific, but his insight helped me decide to take this job on. The most important thing I took away from his stories were some monster descriptions. Most weapons wouldn't do much more than piss them off. The guy said, that the weapons needed to kill the freaks inside were only obtainable by killing other freaks, as the company won't issue you anything more dangerous than a stun gun."

Steven felt a shiver crawl up his spine. The idea of facing creatures that couldn't be killed, or worse, that the company didn't want killed, unsettled him more than he cared to admit. The company's strange rules felt more like a trap than a contract, and he wondered how many others had made it out alive. If any.

The group pressed on, climbing over the small, jagged hills that littered the landscape. The metal pipes groaned under the weight of the wind, and the ground crunched beneath their boots as they moved. After what felt like hours, they reached the crest of a larger hill, and Steven's breath caught in his throat.

Before them stood a massive facility—easily the size of several city blocks. The structure was a maze of steel beams and reinforced concrete, with towering smokestacks that looked like they hadn't seen use in centuries. The building was covered in rust, streaked with grime, and partially collapsed in places. Vines and other strange, dead vegetation clung to the walls, giving the facility a look of decay and abandonment. It was a tomb of industry.

"There it is," Sigurt said, gesturing toward the facility. "Our first job."

Steven's stomach twisted as he stared at the place. The knowledge of the monsters—burned into his mind by the god's deal—tugged at his thoughts. There would be things inside, lurking in the shadows of that building. He could feel it.

"Look at this place," Doug muttered, his voice tense. "It's like the planet died and no one told it."

Sigurt gave a grunt of agreement. "Let's get this over with."

The four of them moved forward, navigating the broken terrain until they reached the facility. The closer they got, the more Steven could feel the weight of the place pressing down on him. It was silent—eerily so—and yet the wind seemed to whisper through the rusted pipes, a hollow sound that made him feel like something was watching.

They reached the base of the facility, where a series of metal stairs led up to a platform near the main entrance. The stairs were old and warped, creaking under their weight as they climbed, but they held. Rust flaked off beneath their boots, and Steven couldn't help but glance down, half expecting to see the stairs crumble beneath him.

At the top, they paused at the entrance. The heavy steel doors were covered in faded markings, worn away by time and the elements. It looked like no one had been here in decades, maybe longer.

Sigurt stepped forward, examining the door. "Lalo, see if you can get this open."

Private Lalo, the tallest of the group and built like a tank, moved toward the door without a word. He pulled out a tool from his belt, a crowbar-like device, and jammed it into the seam between the door and the frame. With a grunt of effort, he pried the door open, the metal groaning in protest.

A wave of stale, musty air hit them, carrying with it the scent of rot and decay. Steven's skin crawled beneath the suit, and his mind raced with the names of the creatures that could be waiting inside.

Sigurt took a step toward the entrance, his hand resting on the doorframe. "Alright, team," he said, his voice steady but tense. "Suits tight, masks on, and stay sharp. No one goes off alone. We get in, do the job, and get out."

Steven took one last deep breath, tightening the straps of his helmet. He glanced at Doug and Lalo, who both gave him brief nods.

With a creak, the door swung fully open, revealing a dark corridor beyond.