Aftermath Prolouge

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.