It's not cold. Not really. Wasn't warm either. Truth be told there wasn't much of anything to feel. Actually, there was nothing. No heat, no cold, no softness or hardness, no sense of gravity, no light glowing through the lids of his eyes, no wind. "What place has no wind?" he wondered. With that, he opened his eyes.

And then he remembered.

He remember the first scream. It seemed out of place for where they lived. It was always quiet there. It was never silent though; there was always the hum of the pump, the breeze which was always present in the valley. Laughter that would sometimes echo through the buildings made roughly of sheet metal and clay, through the hills made of stone, through the mine shafts that wormed their way into the belly of the moon.

The first scream though, it shook him. A level within himself, a level he never visited willingly, recognized that scream. Barely, almost unconsciously, he thought of how the others wouldn't place it's meaning immediately. But he knew - it was the sound of fear of the unknown coupled with the sound of the species desire to survive. It was the scream of a person who suddenly felt cheated out of their life. It was the scream of someone who felt betrayed by fate.

Already running he knew that his community, his new family had not even registered the gravity of the situation. He ran. His body which he kept in shape moved with the grace that never really left him. The strength he cultivated when it seemed to no longer have a purpose. And then the screams coupled with the sounds of metals screaming through the air. Metal that embedded itself in dirt, ricocheted off of rock, burrowed into flesh. Those sounds danced in the air partnered with the screams of panic.

Time slowed. It was a short distance, his legs pumping to the turret. Such a short distance, such a short amount of time... yet his mind managed to spin on so many thoughts. He thought of the danger of the shuttle, the whine of it's engine as it turned to make another attack. He recognized the soun