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Pull of the Moon By Lykanos Wulfheart

With a hiss, the door to the one man pod opened, misty droplets pooling in place, unwilling to let the clear surface go. Suddenly awake, Hank Adams flinched aggressively against the sensation of falling. It was a pointless endeavor, though, as the safety straps kept him firmly in place.

"Oh God," he muttered as he regained his composure. Looking over to the floating face just outside the capsule, he let out a heavy breath. "I will never get used to that."

"Come on, it's not that bad," joked the youthful redhead. Scott Willis, a scrawny man in his late twenties, was the medical officer for this mission. "You do realize that you're the last to wake up, Mr. Sleepyhead. Two years wasn't enough, huh? Had to take a whole extra hour, didn't you?"

With the intention of rubbing his forehead, Hank tugged against the straps. "Two years in cryo, huh? Best two years of my life." With a wry chuckle he motioned to the two bonds that held him in place. "A little help, Doc?"

With both hands, Scott swung his body up through the zero gravity environment, stopping above his captive coworker. "What, did stasis make you forget how to do this yourself?" As he worked, he chided Hank with information. "You know, your body only experiences one day of aging for every year in there. That's two days, bud. You seriously couldn't have forgotten me telling you about these straps in basically two days."

"Two years , Doc. That was actually two years ago, right? Besides, I'm still waking up." Now free to move, Hank took the opportunity to stretch groggily, slowly twisting as he floated freely above the bed. Looking around, he watched as Scott shot across the small medical bay to the far end. Rifling through a drawer-sized storage compartment, the young doctor produced and immediately tossed a food pack at his patient. "Eat and drink," stated the youth. "Oh, and are you going to finally trim that beard of yours?"

Hank was a bigger guy, built like a quarterback, with brown, mid-length hair and a similarly colored short beard. He looked gruff and tough for a man in his late thirties. "I told you," he said with a big grin, "I shaved right before we left."

"Uh huh. And you have, what, a nine A.M. shadow?"

With a hearty laugh, Hank shot back, "You're just jealous because you can't grow one. Such a cute little baby face."

Making his way to the door, the red haired man shot back a dirty look. "At least I can get my butt out of bed, old man. Now get your uniform on while I let the others know you're finally up." After opening the hatch, he turned back with a quick, "Only a few hours out," before he disappeared into the next room.

***

After toggling a few switches, Captain Charles Prescott, the pilot and leader of the space shuttle's four-man crew, unbuckled so that he could better address those present. "We're beginning our deceleration. As soon as Hank gets in here, we'll go over the mission briefing again, as per NASA's request."

The spaceship, New Eden, although not terribly large, had a wide cockpit and spacious common area. With four seats towards the front of the main cabin, that's where most of the controls and sensors were located. Two chairs faced forward, one for Charles and the other for his copilot and security officer, Hank. To the right sat Scott, buckled in after having dealt with the last sleeper. He was currently monitoring the internal systems as the ship slipped back below light speed. To the left was the final member of the crew and only woman on the ship, Evelyn Hayes. This dark haired beauty was as smart as she was pretty; top of her class and eager to learn, she was the obvious choice for the crew's science officer, landing her this position of a lifetime. Though the bulk of her work wasn't going to start until they landed, she was happy enough to keep an eye on the radar and telemetry. Behind her station was the long range communications and, aside from that, a nice open space for moving around.

Pivoting in her seat, Evelyn was beaming. "You know, I'm still amazed at this. Ten years ago, faster-than-light travel was something you'd only see in sci-fi movies."

With a soft chuckle, Charles nodded. As the oldest of the crew at forty six, he enjoyed giving off a bit of a grandfatherly vibe. "Hell, even five years. This whole mission still amazes me. Not only are we the first people to travel this far at this speed, but we're going to be the first to actually touch a new planet. No suit, fingers through the dirt, actually touch it."

Looking over his shoulder, Scott chimed in with, "Assuming, of course, that the probes were right and there are no infectious diseases to worry about. Hate for us to fly twenty light years only to kick it from some pesky microorganisms."

"I hate to agree with him," said Evelyn as she stuck out her tongue, "but he's right. Have to play it safe." Being in her early thirties made her the second youngest on the mission, but that didn't stop her from acting like a kid. She and Scott loved to tease each other like siblings when the opportunities arose.

Just then, the hatch at the back of the room closed firmly as the final member of the team reported for duty. The captain shook his head and grinned. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence."

Still strapped to her seat, Evelyn rotated to stare at him, arms crossed. "Have you seen him, Chuck? He could use all the beauty sleep he can get."

Pushing off the back wall, Hank shrugged as he glided across the open common space. "Hey, what can I say? It takes whole lot of sleep to look this good." Grabbing onto a metal seam before the cockpit, he pulled himself to a stop so that he could take his seat. As he buckled in, he winked over to the lovely scientist. "Oh, you know you missed me."

As the only one left to drift, Charles addressed the crew after a quick "Settle down, Romeo." His tone was a bit more serious as he went through the mission briefing. "As you already know, we are heading for Gliese 870 b, a habitable planet about 1.2 times larger than Earth. As far as water, atmosphere, etcetera, it is very comparable. The probes indicate survivable climate and the presence of small to mid-sized animal-like organisms, thus your job as security officer, Hank. For the next year, we are to make this planet our home, running the gamut of testing. We'll send weekly transmissions with the progress back to Earth. In a year, the next group will arrive to replace us, at which time we can head back for debriefing. If the first year goes well, plans are in place to start possible colonization."

Returning to his cheerier demeanor, he added, "Oh, and don't die. I don't want to have to fill out any extra paperwork."

With a tiny salute, Hank teased, "Sir, yes sir."

Strapping back in, Charles flipped a few switches. "Buckle up, kids. We're almost there."

***

The silence was eventually broken by the young doctor. "It's way too quiet in here."

Leaning over her shoulder, Evelyn had a very sisterly tone. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Hmmm... I don't know," came his reply, "just anything, really."

Clearing his throat, Charles saved the day. "You know, I never got to ask you all why you came out on this mission. What motivated you to fly two years and twenty light years from your homes?"

Evelyn was happy to answer first. "The chance to explore a new world, untouched by humanity. The things we could learn... the possibilities are boundless. It's really the opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Well said," Charles replied, pleased with the answer. "How about you, Scott?"

"Debt," he said flatly. "Education isn't cheap and this job promised to pay it all off and then some. I mean, don't get me wrong, opportunity of a lifetime, like she said. It's just that when you're broke and educated, you take what you can get."

Another moment of silence was interrupted as Chuck took his turn. "I've been on a few missions, visited a couple planets, but to actually get to reach out and touch it." He shuddered with excitement as the idea reinvigorated him. "I want to experience this new planet. Wind in my hair, dirt under my fingernails. No helmet. No gloves. Actually interacting with it. Who else gets to say they were the first to do that, huh?"

As the silence grew, Hank knew he had to answer. Evelyn smiled over as she goaded him, "Come on, what about you?"

It was enough to get him to talk. "Alright, but it's a little weird."

"Weirder than debt? I bet you just want to be the Adam to her Eve," chuckled Scott.

"Oh, ha ha." With a sigh, he knew he had to say it. "Fine. I had to escape Earth. Not from trouble, mind you. No, I had to escape the lunar tides."

Bewildered yet amused, Scott had to know. "What? Why?"

"The tidal forces just affected me somehow. I don't know. Just kept making me ill. When I said cryo was the best sleep I've had in a long time, I wasn't kidding."

The science officer couldn't contain her laughter. "You really did pick the wrong place to go, then. Gliese 870 b has three moons, and if the data was right, the pull they exert on each other combined with the distance from the sun, the tidal force would almost likely be constant."

Hank's face turned to terror. "You've got to be joking."

"Nope," shrugged Evelyn. "In theory, it should be a constant pull."

"We've got to turn this thing around, right now." Hank was freaking out, but Charles kept the spacecraft on course.

Scott patted Hank on the shoulder as he tried to reassure him. "Hey, don't worry about it. I have some meds that should kick a silly headache."

"You don't understand," yelled Hank as he gripped the arms of his chair. "We can't go down there!"

Charles was starting to look a little concerned as his shipmate was growing more hysterical. "Hey, it's too late for that. We're almost there... see? We're passing between two of the moons now."

Pain and fear shone in Hank's eyes as he tightened his grip. Droplets of blood started to pool on his skin near his fingernails, but without gravity, it just lingered, hiding the tips of his claws as they slowly made their way out of the nailbeds. His wounded scream sent Charles into action. Making sure that the autopilot was still engaged, the captain unbuckled himself, and, with a heave, headed for the medical kit on the back wall. As he flew, weightless, he yelled back, "Scott, what's happening to him?"

Releasing himself, Scott wheeled around to get a better look. "It-it looks like his fingernails are falling off. There's no reason they should be. I... fuck, his records said he was perfectly healthy."

Spinning in his chair, Hank pointed himself toward the open space in the back. Still bound to the seat, he huffed out a response. "I... grah! I had a guy in the medical department that owed me a favor. H-had to get off world." The pain was evident in his face as the veins in his neck throbbed. Little shoots of fur grew up as his muscles twitched, eager to expand. He had to break free. His fingers and toes were already losing their shape, taking on the form of curled, bestial digits. With an aggressive yank, he tore the buckle from the seat frame and let himself drift limply out of the cockpit.

Scott was in shock. "His ears... they're all furry and pointed. What the hell is this?" If he could have seen Hank's face, he'd also have known that his friend's nose was growing black and rapidly reshaping, growing out as sharp teeth came in.

Grappling with her own belt, Evelyn tried frantically to free herself. Not certain if she should cower in fear or help the man she had grown to love, she couldn't help but gasp as his bones crackled and popped, violently reshaping his frame to something far more savage.

As his body swelled, tearing at the seams of his uniform, it was already quite apparent as to what Hank Adams really was: A werewolf. With the thick, grey fur finishing its progress, the only thing missing was the tail. Massive, clawed paws reached back, tearing a hole in the fabric, letting the hidden appendage wiggle free. It would almost have been amusing if not for the fact that everyone was absolutely terrified. There, floating in front of the communications panel was a big, snarly beast.

Snarly was all in the eye of the beholder, though. Hank was still reeling from the pain of his transformation, pawed hands and toes aching, gums and claws bloodstained, and senses kicked into overdrive. He wanted to tell them it would be alright. He wanted to say that as long as everyone remained calm, no one would get hurt. Sadly, all he could manage was a growl and a few barks.

In light of the new situation, Charles knew he had to protect his crew and warn NASA. The first step was getting the hulking monster away from the cockpit and the comms. Waving the med kit, he shouted angrily, "Over here you dumb creature!"

Hank was insulted, offended. They were friends. It was rather rude to call him such things just because he looked a bit different. He attempted to protest, but it came out as more of a snarling growl. It wasn't really what he had meant to say as it forced his valiant captain to take action against him. First the medical kit slammed into him, and then the redirected momentum shoved his sore, shifted frame into the comms desk. Before Hank could fully brace himself, Charles was on his way, fist at the ready. Pivoting as best he could, Hank managed to barely deflect the blow, turning his attacker just enough to expose his throat.

Between the adrenalin, the shock, and the pain, the lycanthrope hastily deemed it best to use his teeth, the only thing free at the moment, to pin his assailant. With just the right amount of pressure, he was sure he wouldn't break the skin.

Charles had other plans. He wasn't about to die so easily, as he assumed that the monster was going for the kill. Swiftly, he used his free fist to uppercut right into the werewolf's ribs. Hank wasn't ready for such a brazen move, accidently clenching his jaw. A coppery tang filled his mouth as he saw the pain and fear in his ally's eyes slowly fade into cold nothingness. Small globs of red pulsed away in the gravityless chamber as Hank released his bite, knowing all too well that he had not only crushed, but torn into his leader's windpipe.

Hank's pathetic whine was masked by Evelyn's scream and Scott's enraged "CHUCK!" He didn't mean to kill the man. Just like back on Earth, he meant well, but things always seemed to get out of control. "If only I could talk like a man, it would solve everything!" he told himself, though he still didn't quite believe it, just like the last few times. Stricken with guilt and with his back against a table, Hank pushed the corpse back the way it came, gently and respectfully.

Turning back to look at his friends, he tried to lick the guilty blood from his teeth. He had looked just in time to take a training manual to the nose. Scott, the fiery young physician, was angered beyond reason. His cheeks almost the same shade as his hair, he was throwing anything he could get his hands on. Sent reeling by the force of the blow, Hank managed to deflect the space helmet, the shoe, and even the wrench. However, in zero gravity, momentum is not so easily lost. Pushed back beyond the halfway point, the weightless wolfman was nearing the wall but was still under attack. Scott had his back to the corner and was lobbing the shredded old shoes that had come off Hank's altered, wolf-like feet. When a second helmet came at him, the burly beast was all out of patience. Pushing off the wall, he launched at the red-headed fiend.

One clawed hand grabbed a shoulder while the other went for the object about to be tossed. Not only did Hank miss and grab the wrist, but in his agitated state he used far more force than intended. When a werewolf gets angry they tend to show their true strength, and that was no exception here. At first the arm made a sickening pop as the shoulder dislocated, but what followed horrified even the lycanthrope. The skin and muscles tore as the burly beast ripped Scott's arm clean off. Blood formed into large balls of pulsating red goo as they escaped the screaming victim. "This... this isn't right," Hank yelled at himself, a saddened howl escaping his throat. He never meant to hurt his friend... either of his friends.

"Why am I so cursed?" Another mournful howl escaped as he ended Scott's suffering, snapping his neck with one quick twist. "I'm so sorry," he whined in a language that only he knew, a single tear bubbling up and clinging to his eye. As much as he shook, it would not part until he used his clean, furred hand to set the clear drop free amongst the many pools of red.

He couldn't handle another loss, and certainly not the woman he loved. If he accidentally hurt her, he'd never forgive himself. As the thought weighed on his mind, he realized that she wasn't in her seat. A startled "yipe" escaped as he saw her ready to activate the long range communications. If NASA found out, it wasn't only his head on a plate, but every werewolf back on Earth. Though he didn't like his situation, he wasn't about to condemn an entire species. Tossing the severed arm to the back of the cabin, Hank shoved off of the wall with all of his might. The fuzzy missile slammed into the desk and in a quick, delicate action, grabbed the shoulder-length dark locks of his former love, yanking her face into the keyboard.

With a thud, Evelyn went limp. A small gash above her eyebrow was forming tiny beads of crimson that clung to the wound. Tail tucked and ears sagging low, Hank prayed that he hadn't killed her, too. With a body covered in fur and a mind clouded with fear, he wasn't sure how to tell if she was still breathing. His best idea was the sensitive skin of his nose. Gently cradling his sweetheart, he moved her lips within an inch of his powerful canine muzzle. The few seconds of terrified worry felt like an eternity to him. Slowly, his tail wagged back and forth, followed by an overjoyed howl. "She's alive!" Pulling her in, he held her gently and longingly stroked a paw against her cheek. As he looked at the planet before him, he knew that, as it was, there was no place for them. She was just another victim waiting to be. There was only one solution, as much as he hated it.

His heart was heavy as he brushed his snout on her shoulder, taking in her scent. "I'm so sorry," he whined apologetically, like a dog that knew it was in trouble. "It's the only way," he told himself as he delicately tore the shoulder of her uniform open. As his teeth brushed her flesh, he couldn't help but wince. He had caused so much death, so much heartache already. If he did this, there was no guarantee that she'd ever want to be around him again. As his fangs pierced her delicate skin, he made sure to realize exactly what he'd done. He'd taken everything from her: Her coworkers, her career, and worst of all... her humanity.

Ears flattened, the defeated wolf had one thing left to do. The comms couldn't be left intact. As he cradled his precious cargo, his other hand pulled at the primary cable. Detaching from the monitor with a crack, a second tug ripped the cable free of the floor. Letting it drift, he calmly pushed forward to put his love back in her seat. It was almost time to enter the atmosphere. As he buckled himself into the captain's chair, a glimmer of hope filled his mind. This planet had life. It had prey. If Evelyn still loved him after everything, it could be a true Werewolf Eden. With a longing gaze to the exquisite creature beside him, Hank was hopeful for not just his, but their future.