Distortion

When they were sent to the Nevada desert, everyone thought it would be a simple mission. Nothing complicated. Just extract the “unstable object” and transport it. “In and out. A fifteen-minute job” — the words of the commander echoed in their heads, who by the end of the mission never managed to leave the underground base. They moved quietly, watching the back of the person in front, following the captain’s orders, and listening for any rustle in the silence. The farther they ventured, the lower the temperature dropped around them — as if the very matter of the walls was resisting them. “Sector six. Target located,” came the voice in their ears. “Object is unstable. Do not touch.” Lauren walked at the back, feeling her sweat-soaked clothing no longer clinging tightly to her body; chilled by the air, the fabric made her muscles tense ever so slightly each time. She swallowed, recalling the times they were told “do not touch.” They had already seen too many things to stop being afraid. But back then… Her heart skipped a beat when she crossed the threshold of the chamber. In the center — a spherical glass container. The flashing light of the emergency lighting glinted off the container’s surface, outlining its shape, but couldn’t penetrate the depths of the black shard floating within a liquid mist. Lauren leaned forward to get a better look — her legs, as if nailed to the floor, refused to obey. The shard wasn’t just black, absorbing the light around it — it shimmered, but no one could name the colors of its glints. “Is that it?” she asked quietly, pulling her balaclava down from her face. “Yes,” replied the technician at the terminal. “Someone managed to stabilize it.” “What are you talking about?” asked one of the operatives, extending a finger toward the container as if wanting to tap it, but the captain pulled his hand back. “A fragment of the Dark Aether,” the captain explained once he was sure everyone had moved a safe distance away from the sphere. He placed a metal box on the floor and opened it. “How do we load it, Eleven?” “I think I can activate the manipulator arm,” the technician pointed to the claw-like apparatus hanging from the ceiling like a shadow. “You just going to stand there, Seven?” the operative who wanted to touch the container — called Five — smirked. “It feels… alive,” Lauren managed to take a step forward with difficulty, gripping her rifle tightly. “It makes me uneasy.” “You said the same thing last time, and nothing happened,” Eleven said over his shoulder, watching as the manipulator arm shuddered. It slowly descended, gripping the sphere, then lifted it with a faint crack of breaking fixtures. The container trembled, slowly lowering toward the box. An unnatural shadow slid across the walls, as if searching for its new refuge. The air around them vibrated, and Lauren clearly felt she had become the target. All her senses dulled, as if she’d been thrown into water — her gear suddenly felt a thousand times heavier, pinning her to the cold, dusty floor. Something slid beneath her skin, leaving a cold trail in her blood, occupying the empty spaces within her warm body. Coughing, she tried to rid herself of the sensation tearing at her throat. Getting to her feet, Lauren blinked, clearing the haze from her eyes — the sphere with the shard still hovered above the box. Stumbling, she made her way to the terminal, realizing the dark piles of debris lying in the corners were her team. “I’ll finish the mission,” Seventh said, pulling the lever down and turning to face the Shard, lowering it into the box.