Aftermath Episode I: Prologue
Earth date:
5th March 2015
New Kodiak,
Alaska
08:45 hrs
(All dates and times local)
A frostbitten morning at a
US outpost in Alaska was rudely awoken by the crack of gunfire. "Crap,
it's the damn Yeerks." Muttered General Jake Havor, a stout, harsh man in
control of the base. He was an outstanding commander; however, he had an
outright odd hobby of cracking jokes on the front lines. Troops' bleary eyes
snapped open in their barracks, grabbed their M16 rifles and bolted out the
door, apparently not ready for combat. They had been allowed to get some sleep
earlier because recon data from the squads of fighters on patrol had shown no
enemy movement.
Nervously, magazines were
snapped onto rifles, bullets were locked into firing chambers and rifles were
shouldered.
"What the hell is up
with this, the one fucking time I get the chance to fucking sleep, I gotta go
outside in the fucking Alaska winter to whip your fucking asses. Y'know, you
fucking people really piss me off!" yelled Sergeant Alan "The
Mouth" Miller while simultaneously loading a fresh magazine into his M16.
The swarms of
Taxxon-controllers never seemed to end, pushing its way ever through the dense
forest just a mile and a half in front of the US camp. "Alright, keep
calm!" the General ordered. "I SAID KEEP CALM DAMMIT! Open fire on my
count!"
The Taxxons came running
towards the base's wall, smelling fresh human blood hiding behind it. The
marines crouching tensely behind the walls readied themselves to engage the
oncoming onslaught of the Taxxons heading their way.
"Ready!" Barked
the general, as the sound of rifles cocking echoed throughout the camp.
"Aim!" Havor raised his right arm. Lines and lines of rifles soared
upward as the marines brought them into firing position. "Fire!" the
general brought down his arm. Almost instantly, a hail of 5.56mm bullets rained
down on the first waves of the Taxxons, shredding the ones in the front and
wounding the rest.
"Good work, look at those
pieces of monkey crap go down baby!" Havor exulted. "Would you keep
focused, sir? We kinda have two hundred thousand bloodthirsty motherfucking
carnivorous aliens with lasers coming at us" Replied Corporal Michael
Hull, smiling sarcastically. Hull's advice was rewarded with a sharp smack on
his head.
General Havor ordered the
marines to open fire again. Another salvo of bullets instantly rained down on
the oncoming horde. The Yeerks that were hit were slaughtered instantly.
"This ain't gonna be too hard," Private Josh Trotter said, grinning.
"Can't be any easier than…." Private First Class Bill Wright started
to say before two separate dracon beams from the east and west hit him, slicing
his left arm off at the elbow and continuing through his neck. Dead on instant,
Wright did not have the time to scream.
"What the hell?"
cried Havor. Another two dracon beams flashed from both directions and cut down
another GI. "Damn it, were surrounded! Get down!"
The live marines were
yelling curses and swearing, the wounded ones screaming in pain or calling for
their mothers, but all that was heard was the thundering from the guns and the
Taxxons' cries of pain as they were hit. But they kept coming, pushing closer
to the defensive wall of concrete and concertina wire with each wave of attacks.
The marines were firing as fast as bullets would fly out of their weapons, but
the Taxxons came closer and closer. Suddenly, a group slithered over the wall
and began slashing at the nearest marines.
"Fuck- FUCK!"
screamed Miller. His last words.
The Taxxons' claws ripped
through the marines' body armor, then right down into their skin, tearing out
chunks of flesh from the still live humans.
The Marines kept on firing
valiantly at the Taxxons, and were beginning to have some success. However, by this
time, more and more of them lay on the ground, covered in blood, withering in
agony. They screamed, reaching out to the still live marines to help stop the
pain. Then, having no choice, Havor unholstered his Beretta handgun and shot
all the half-dead marines. The healthy marines looked at their general in shock
and surprise. His only words were, "Keep fighting."
The shooting finally
stopped as the last waves of Taxxons were killed. All around them, blood from
the Taxxons covered the ground. The smell of burnt flesh and hair was
overwhelming. Some of the Marines were vomitting while others stood around,
staring at the gruesome sight around them, too tired to feel sick.
"I think were gonna
need some Med-evac… Lieutenant!" General Havor barked, taking a swig of
whisky from his canteen. "Yes sir!" Lieutenant Jonathan Courtnall
replied as he tore his gaze away from the horrible sight in front of him.
"Contact the nearest base and tell them to get their asses over
here!" said Havor slowly. "Will do sir, how many shall we ask
for?" Courtnall replied crisply. "Ah, I believe several choppers would do
nicely here." Havor answered. "Yes sir, contacting Greek Paratrooper
training facility."
Havor waited for a few
minutes before Courtnall steped out of his wrecked office, clicked his boots, and
saluted him before telling Havor of the situation. "Sir, we could only get
five helicopters, their ETA is in about 1 minute." The General replied
with a stern face, "Alright, alright, good work. I gotta get back to the
battlefield."
Almost at once, the
battlefield was filled with the sound of spinning rotors. As the men's' eyes
turned skyward, five CH-67 Chinook helicopters swooped low, coming in for a
landing on a small clearing of land. The remaining marines cheered; finally
able to escape from the frozen hell that was the devastated base.
Once the last marine was
onboard, the choppers made a hasty take-off, preparing to flee from the
outpost. Soon it was off, leaving nothing but dust trails in its wake.