Cosmic Howling

By T.L. Vaughn

Their Last Mission Has Gone to the Dogs 
 
It's Norman's last expedition on the wretched planet Earth and he is more than ready to log his final report and go home. 
 
However, there's more to the mission than Norman expected. Who knew that there were things beyond science dwelling on this mud ball? 
 
Who knew Norman would come to hate something more than his alarm clock? 
 
Well it happened! Time is running out for Norman and his friends as they find themselves fighting for their lives against a monster beyond their wildest imaginations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.L. Vaughn
• Release date: Jul 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386413059

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Norman awakened to what he considered the worst invention in all of existence, everywhere, in all time and space: His alarm clock.

As his aching eyes glared at the accursed contraption, it blinked the time of 5:30 AM as it continued to blare its banshee like scream of death, mocking him. But no matter how much hatred he poured into his stare, which would have killed a lesser enemy, the evil device continued its war cry. It forced Norman to resort to more brutal methods. He lifted his arm up and flopped it down onto the side table, missing his target. After a few more attempts he finally smacked it and activated the all-merciful snooze button.

And although he enjoyed the divine silence, he knew deep down in his mucus-like gut that it would not last forever. Dreamlands never lasted, for they were fragile places that crumbled to reality oh too easily. That and he knew he needed to wake up to go to work; he had a busy day ahead of him doing next to nothing.

Although technically it wasn’t a day, and if you really thought about it, the whole concept of time didn’t really make any sense without being locked onto an object with a decent amount of gravity and a dependable rate of rotation with a star nearby. And that’s on top of the fact that keeping time itself was very relative and superficial to begin with. For time is a weird thing that both exists and doesn’t exist at the same time, so who’s to say what time it really is at any given point?

But now Norman was just trying to make excuses to fall back asleep and blow off his job, which he unfortunately knew he could not do, for there was work to be done and others depending on him to do said work. And by depend, he really meant someone wanted a report which they would later file, and someone back on home world would put into an article which only a hand full of people would read. Nonetheless he was being paid to do it, so do it he must.

He sloshed out of bed only to fall onto the metal floor, a critical error on his part. His muscles were still too relaxed from his rest to properly hold any weight, so he had no choice but to lie there on the cold hard floor contemplating what to do next. The floor being flat and hard made it very uncomfortable, but at this point in Norman’s life he didn’t care anymore. He was about to openly accept the cold embrace of his new home away from home and drift back into dreamland, but his most hated arch-nemesis struck back at him with a vengeance. However, to Norman’s horror, his mighty arm of justice was not long enough to reach the holy snooze button from his new resting place on the floor.

He pondered giving in to the temptation, to admit defeat and just let it win, but he knew the evil it would inflict, not just on him but on every one on the ship. Its tyranny knew no bounds, its ambition was limitless, and its soul (if it even had one) knew no mercy. Its only joy was the pain of others, its only desire was to spread madness and despair to all it came in contact with, and its rule would be everlasting as it sat on high as a demon lord devouring the souls of its subjects. Norman could not let that happen, never again, so he mustered up all the strength he had to pull himself to his feet, and there he loomed over the demonic box and thought about what to do with it.

Every fiber of his being wanted him to just grab the cursed box (still screaming) and smash it on the table over and over again until it was nothing more then small pieces, and then gather those pieces and fling them out the nearest airlock hurling them towards the local star where they will be incinerated and therefore never be able to harm another living being ever again. Peace and prosperity would be had by all, as good would have triumphed over evil, but he did not do that. No, Norman just stared at it until the time read 5:45 and used his mighty finger of justice to hit the off button. There were times he cursed himself for being too merciful, for it would live to fight another day, but he reminded himself the war was far from over.

He decided that he had enough of this silliness and left his alarm clock behind as he flopped his way to the bathroom. His legs were still a bit too soft to walk right, but he eventually made it to his private washroom to clean up before work as he did every day. Looking into his mirror he analyzed the creature looking back at him: a tall, dark blue biped with two arms and legs and only one head that had a healthy amount of super thin tentacles (that humans would have confused for hair) slicked back. The tentacles were a darker blue than the rest of the membrane that covered his entire body. Radiation from his mental core was what made his hair-like tentacles grow. His face consisted of two black orbs that were perfect for taking in just the right amount of light to allow him to see in the first place. The rest of his face was plain and smooth with enough mucus oozing out of his pores to give him a healthy amount of color but not too much to make him look slimy. All around a good-looking fellow, he thought to himself.

The one thing (and really only) thing that bugged him about his appearance were the darkened bags under his eyes, which gave away that he was tired. Not physically either. He always got a good amount of sleep, probably more then the rest of the crew. No, he was tired mentally. There were about a million different places he would rather be right now than on this ship, orbiting this backwater mud ball of a planet.

Which wouldn’t have been too bad if it hadn’t been a five year mission. Five years! He had been on this tin can studying these violent savages all this time and all he wanted was to go home, see the purple oceans that surrounded the capital city of his home world, the ivory rocky shores that gave the seas their delicious nutrients, and of course to see the way the sky turned gold as the sun set and their three moons come out to orbit on high above. Most of their oldest beliefs were based on those moons, some even considered them to be gods before they knew what a moon was.

I suppose no one truly appreciates paradise until after they leave it for awhile, he said to himself, feeling a little melancholy. But no amount of daydreaming could stop the inevitable, so he took off his sleep attire and hopped into the shower to scrub off the excess crust that had built up over night. The most grading task of showering, however, was making the conscious effort not to absorb the water during the whole process so that he wouldn’t spoil his appetite for breakfast or suck back in the impurities that were expunged during sleep. Once that was over, he put on his work clothes, which consisted of a pair of pants, a silk shirt, and a white lab coat. Unlike the humans they where studying, their race found no need for shoes, as the membrane on the bottom of their feet was very thick and hardened, almost rock like.

Norman exited his room and strolled down the hallway, making sure to take his nice sweet time. He had always admired the way the hallways were designed. No reason to rush; the research wasn’t going to go anywhere.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his job (it was a good job), he was just sick of it. Five years with no vacation will do that to you. The worst part was knowing that it would only take one hour to get back to his home world with the warp drive, but it used too much fuel and wouldn’t be economically feasible to make the trip every other year.

Unfortunately, he wished he could say the same about his colleagues, who were borderline obsessed with the little vermin, and didn’t seem to mind the long absence from home. There was nothing more draining then being in a room filled with passionate people when you didn’t share that same passion. As such, Norman found himself hanging out with the defense personal more often than his own coworkers. Fortunately, there were only two more days of this before they could all go home and pass on the work to the next team of researchers.

As always his trip was short and his thoughts ended as he reached the door to the main research center. He pressed the button to open the door and it slid open, putting him face to face with (probably the most likable of his colleagues) Mercussu.

Norman, there you are, Mercussu said while holding a tray of cups filled with a turquoise liquid that Norman assumed was breakfast. His particular field of study was in Earth cuisine and the humans’ eating habits. Reliably late like always, I see, tsk tsk.

He waved his main index finger at Norman disapprovingly, which was contrasted by the fact his voice had a playful ring to it. Mercussu was shorter than Norman by a good head, which put him just slightly taller then the average human. His head tentacles were about as long as Norman’s, but he liked to part them down the middle. His eyes were slightly larger, but the biggest difference between them was that his membrane was a much lighter shade of blue.

Mercussu was the type of guy that was always happy about something. He was a real the glass is always half full kind of guy, and he would go out of his way to cheer someone up even if he didn’t like him.

Norman took one of the cups on the tray Mercussu was holding. Would I be correct to assume this is breakfast?

Of course silly. Mercussu giggled. What else would it be? I even mixed it myself.

Well it’s just that I’ve been wrong in that assumption before, or need I remind you of the hot sauce incident?

It was clearly labeled, Mercussu said, defending himself.

"It was not! Or