Addendum 835-01: First Draft of After Action Report by Mobile Task Force Zeta-Niner: Circumstances of Retrieval
On ██-██-████ at ████:██:██ hours, Mobile Task Force Zeta-Niner (Mole Rats) conducted an investigation of SCP-835. At this time, SCP-835 had a mass of only four tons, and only one large polyp at the north end of the structure (designated Polyp Alpha), Polyp Bravo not yet being in existence.
As per standard procedure, four team members were chosen for the initial investigation. Standard isolation suits (underwater variant) were worn by all four team members: Lieutenant C█████████ took point as team leader, while Sergeants L██████ and M█████ served as support. Corporal H████, a rookie team member, accompanied the team as an observer. A standard Underwater Remote Vehicle, or URV, was used for initial investigation.
SCP-835 did not, at first, act in a hostile manner towards the team, allowing team members to approach and make contact without incident. URV-01 was sent to investigate the exterior of the object while team members C, L, and M proceeded towards what they believed to be the entrance of the site. Corporal H was ordered to remain outside and to monitor URV-1 in order to ensure that the device's tether did not become tangled on the exterior protrusions.
The first sign of trouble occured when Corporal H, while attempting to clear a jam in URV-1's sampling claw, reported in with the words, "Oh god, help me, help me." He then reported that "some horrible tentacle thing" had wrapped around his arm and was dragging him in towards a "fucking mouth," and vocalized several distress calls… Jesus Christ. I can't do this. Fucking… goddamn it, he was just a kid! It was his first fucking mission, I should have kept my eye on him!1
Christ… all right, here goes, guess I'll just let Sarge edit this for me. Again.
So the thing grabbed the kid. It had me fooled to rights. The entrance wasn't an entrance, it was just… some cave. The real entrance was the big polyp thing on the north end. It grabbed the kid and started dragging him towards the mouth. Topside started to drag him up, but all they got was a snapped cable. And the kid? He got pulled inside and eaten.
God, I still remember him screaming. He was screaming at us, he was crying. "Oh God, Lieutenant, it's eating me, oh god, I don't wanna die!" I'm shouting at him to calm down, we're gonna get him out of there, and then topside tells us to abort, and they start the winches. I'm screaming at them to wait, I had his hand! I HAD him! I got the carabiner on, we're hooked together, and topside starts winching us up… and we're not getting anywhere. I'm grabbing on, I'm telling him I'm not gonna let go, and then the winch starts to seize up, and I feel this jerk on the tether and it goes slack, and then we're both sliding into that damn thing.2
It was like… Jesus, I need another drink… fuck. It was like… the only way I can think of it was like you know that thing that doctors do when they stick a tube up someone's ass and look at the inside of their intestines? I saw that on TV once, it was like that, except I was going down the throat of some horrible underwater hell-monster, not up some poor bastard's rear. There were these… muscular contractions, I guess, and they were slowly sliding us down the length of the tube. If we weren't wearing the hard suits, we'd have been crushed, but as it was, we were held so tight we could barely move, even with power-assist. I managed to get my head up enough to see the kid's face. His faceplate was covered in vomit, poor bastard had puked in his suit.3 I started yelling for him, trying to get him to say something. He managed to tell me he was all right. He was sobbing like a baby.
I started doing some calculations. Based on my dead reckoning tracker and initial sonar scans, we were moving about a meter every minute. That meant seventy two hours until we came out the other side, assuming we did. We had the air, our rebreathers could keep going for days. What we didn't have was the power to keep the suits warm for that long. If the heat went out, hypothermia would kill us… I dunno, look it up, in any case we'd be dead. We needed to conserve power.
I told the kid to turn off his helmet lights, lock his joints, and turn down his heater to minimal. He started crying. He didn't wanna do it. I didn't blame him, but I told him we had no choice. We finally agreed to shut down everything but our internal helmet lights, at least. It seemed to calm him down, and honestly, that extra 0.1 percent power wouldn't make a difference.
I think that was the worst part. We spent at least a day like that, locked in our suits. Couldn't move our arms and legs. No sound but the thing's gurgling and your own breathing and the sound of your rebreather. The puke on the kid's faceplate started to dry up and flake off about an hour or so in so I could see his face. He looked tired and scared.
I think… check the logs, Sarge, I think it was about thirteen hours in when the kid started talking again.4 Kid started babbling. Apologized for stealing my shorts. Said you guys made him sneak into my quarters and take it from me as a dare. Why the hell did you guys make him do that? I mean, I don't mind if you haze the new guys, Bill, but did you always have to do it in a way that reminded them I'm a chick? It was hard enough trying to get them to listen to me as it was. Anyway, Bill, it's all there in the log. You know what I told him. They were lies, of course. Jokes. He laughed too. Joked back. I hope he was joking. I don't know what I would have done if we'd survived. Maybe I would have gone ahead and did it. I don't know. It's all fucked up. Anyway, after that, he calmed down a lot, even managed to crack a couple of jokes, then I told him to take a nap. He slept a bit, thank god.
About twenty four hours in, we reached… I guess they're calling it the stomach now. First warning sign was a gurgling kind of noise, louder, with a crunching noise over it. I told the kid to bring his suit up to full power and get ready. A little while after, we fell out into this big chamber… big as in, big enough for the two of us to fit in it comfortably, which was huge compared to the tight squeeze of the tube. Kid's suit started hissing and the outer shell started to turn all pitted and stuff, and I noticed my gloves were starting to degrade too, so I yelled at him to move, and we started heading towards this… sphincter, I guess. I remember… god, why can I remember this, the insides of the stomach were lined with teeth and faces. Human faces, and they were all wailing at us and screaming, they were begging us to kill them.
I almost lost it there, I started opening up with my gun, started shooting them in the heads, and if I'd stayed, my suit would have melted and I'd be dead, but the kid grabbed me and shoved me headfirst through the sphincter and we fell into… the other place.
It was even worse than the stomach. That one was lined with faces and filled with acid, this place was… well, you know what it was full of. I'm not squeamish, Bill, you can't be if you're a Mole Rat, but this place squicked me out so bad I almost passed out. The kid helped me back up to my feet, though, told me we were almost out. "Come on, Lieutenant, we're almost out of here, let's go," he said. We moved over to the other sphincter, but the thing was… well, it was puckered up tighter than my Drill Sergeant's asshole back in basic. So no way we were getting out of there.
We decided to wait for a bit until the thing shot its load, so to speak: if it made shit and cum, it would have to spit it out eventually, right? Anyway, that's when things started to go bad. The kid started complaining about this awful smell. I tried to stay calm. Told him it was probably his suit's waste recyclers, told him to let me take a look at it. Yeah. There was a hole in the back of his leg, probably from the acid. I put a patch on it, and told him not to worry about it. And that's when I noticed that there were these red things growing all over his face. He started screaming when the first of them burst and splattered blood all over the inside of his face plate. He begged me to die. I put my gun up to his face plate and pulled the trigger, click. I'd burned all my ammo trying to shoot those damn faces.
The tentacles burst out of its face a moment after. It grabbed me… and it started licking me, Bill. The thing was running its tongues all over my face and body, over the suit. It grabbed me and pushed me down and tried to hump my suit like a dog, but it couldn't get through. I managed to wrestle the thing that had once been the kid back through the sphincter into the stomach. Its tentacles writhed at me as it started to melt.
He smiled - told me he loved me before he died. I screamed.
Then 835 blew its load and I flew out its ass into the ocean.
You know the rest of the story, Bill. Except one thing. When I got back to the ship, there was a breach in my suit. I haven't told anyone yet, Bill. No one noticed, not even me: a little crack on the wrist of my left glove, and I guess someone missed a spot on decontamination, and, well, I figured I was okay, right? It just hit the skin… nothing internal. And I didn't start getting symptoms right away, but I've read the reports about the latency times, and if I'm gonna start coming down, now is about the tail end of the incubation period. So I locked myself in and waited.
I just looked in the mirror and noticed that my face is starting to grow some red blotches. So… yeah. I guess I'm fucked.
As for the rest, Fill it in from the reports and the logs for me, will ya? Oh, and be sure to edit it so the motherfuckers in command don't yell at me for being unprofessional in me AARs again. I'm gonna finish off my drink and take a couple valium and go to bed. Tell the Cleaner teams not to enter my quarters: abandon the entire ship and scuttle it on top of the original site. It should be easier to contain two of us than just one. Besides, I think the kid would like it that way. Now we can be together, just like he wants. Thanks.