Disclaimer: The Author does not own Aliens.
Colonial Marines: The Return of Evil
by
CelfwrDderwydd
"There's nothing good about war. But there is sometimes good in why you fight wars."
-Unknown WWII Veteran.
From: US Space Command
To: U.S.S. Sinclair et al
RE: Mission Brief
Two weeks ago, contact with the colony at AL-936 was lost. Investigate loss of contact, render assistance. Combat unlikely, but exercise caution. Lives of colonists top priority.
4/3/2201
The room was filled with tired groans as the Colonial Marines shook off the grogginess of Hypersleep. Marines sat up in their cryotubes as they woke up.
"All right, up an at 'em! You're not being paid to sleep, grunts! Get dressed, get grub and get to briefing," said the voice of the Lieutenant as he inspected his Marines.
He was a tall man, around the six-foot-three mark. Hazel eyes regarded his Marines with strength, efficiency, and a warrior's fondness. A subtle grin, barely noticeable, tugged at his lips as he watched them awake, cough and dress. He ran a hand over his short black hair as he turned to head to the mess hall. He knew his Marines, male and female alike, could handle anything that came their way.
After a brief meal, the Marines gathered in the hanger as their Lieutenant stood in front of them.
"So, what's the deal, BIB?" asked one of the Marines. The Lieutenant grinned gently at the nickname. Some of the Marines chuckled at the closeness they shared with their Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Blue was the kind of Commanding Officer his Marines knew and respected. He knew every one of them, had been to hell and back with them. He was the kind of man you followed to death. He gave a soft sigh, crossed his arms and stood fully straight.
"Two weeks ago, contact was lost with the colony at AL-936. We've been unable to reestablish contact. Command doesn't know what the heck is going on, so they're sending us in to find out."
"They expecting trouble, Sir?" asked Private Jameson, a slightly short young man, and the newest addition to their "family". Blue looked at him.
"Don't know, but after the Acheron Disaster, they aren't taking any chances. We're assuming this to be a combat drop until we know otherwise." The Marines looked at each other, murmuring and muttering.
"Bring it on! We can take whatever they throw at us!" boasted Private Millar, a Smartgunner. Blue chuckled a bit.
"All right, let's head gear up, people! Oorah!"
"Oorah!" chorused the Marines before standing and leaving to gear up.
A short time later, the Marines were loaded into their dropships, two dropships each with an APC and two full squads, making for a total of twenty-eight Marines, including the pilots and co-pilots of the dropships. Each was fastened into their safety harness in the APC, while the dropships were lowered into the drop-bays. Marines checked their armor and gear quick as the dropships rumbled as they were lowered into the bays to be dropped to the planet below.
"Stand by for drop, ten seconds," announced the pilot as the Marines gave one final check that buckles were fastened, weapons were loaded and stowed and their cameras were broadcasting. "Drop in five, four, three, two, one. Mark!" With that, the ships suddenly dropped from the bottom of the Sinclair, hurtling down towards the surface of AL-936. A few scattered Marines whooped, but most were either silent, or chatting among themselves.
Lt. Blue sat in his harness, arms crossed, thinking carefully on the mission ahead, but still paying attention to his surroundings.
"So, what you think, man? Downed transmitter?" one Marine asked another.
"Maybe. Wouldn't be the first time. Winds can get nasty on these colony worlds. Heard some are almost a thousand miles an hour!"
"Heh, wanna fly a kite, man?" another Marine chuckled.
This made Lt. Blue think back to the initial readouts from the computer of the Sinclair. There was no sign of the transmitter satellite in orbit. It wasn't destroyed, it just wasn't there. That was odd. Satellites didn't just up and vanish, especially transmitters. They should have picked it up. If it was out of orbit, they would have detected it somewhere in the system, and if it had been destroyed, they would have detected debris from it, and a transponder chip. Nothing, not a blip. He huffed gently as he glanced up at one of his Marines.
"So, what do you think? I think the M45 is better than the M41," Pvt. Jameson asked another Marine.
"The old 41 is still good, but she has her issues. I like the range of the 45, myself, but the 41 is still good for shuttle fighting. Shorter," replied Cpl. Hughes, a slightly older Marine with a scar on his lower lip that gave him a very slight lisp. They were referring to their M45 Pulse Rifles, newer, stronger updates to the honored, but old M41 series. Lt. Blue looked down at his rifle.
They were longer, with longer battery-life, longer range and more stopping power than the M41, but looking at the two, one would see the similarities. He gave the rifle a light pat, hoping it wouldn't be needed. He tapped his headset.
"Deevs, any readings or beacon?" Lt. Blue asked the pilot.
"Negative. No signals, no beacons, nothing," replied the pilot. Lt. Blue frowned at this. Something was not right, and he didn't like it, not one bit.
"Angel Two, anything?" he asked into the radio.
"Negative, Sir," replied the pilot of the other dropship. He gave a soft huff, and glanced up. Millar, who sat in his harness with his Smart gun stowed next to him. He was glad for the extra firepower. Millar was one of four Smartgunners among them, and he felt better to have them.
"This is Angel One, I have a visual on the colony," said the pilot. Everyone looked up at this. Lt. Blue looked at the screens in his command center of the APC, and saw what the external cameras of the dropship saw.
There was rain falling, but that hardly failed to stem the tide of smoke coming from the colony. Smoke billowed out into the rain from gashes in the structure as they neared. His gaze narrowed as he saw there were no lights of any sort on anywhere. Not even emergency lights.
"Angel Two, are you seeing this?" Lt. Blue asked.
"Affirmative," replied the pilot of the second dropship.
"Looks like we got some explosives damage to the exterior. I'm thinking RPGs at least. What do you think, Sir?" asked the Sergeant in the other APC.
"Can't tell from here, but from the holes, and the angle, looks more like missile strikes to me. From the air. Angel One and Two, keep your eyes peeled," Blue ordered.
"Aye, Sir," they replied. He glanced at all the screens and views before giving an order.
"Okay, set down in the landing grid and let us off. Keep your eyes peeled, but don't just fire at anything that moves. There's civilians here."
"Yes, Sir. Coming in to land," replied the pilot. Blue looked at the Marines.
"Landing now. Look sharp, people!" They all got ready as the ship rocked and the ramp lowered. The AMC rumbled as it took off towards the colony.
The two armored vehicles thundered across the landing field through the rain, coming to stop a ways out from the colony, but some tractors that were parked. The doors slid open quickly as the Marines poured out and spread out as Lt. Blue issued commands. Unlike other commanders, he didn't stay in the APC, but followed his Marines out into the rain and the mud. He didn't sit back and watch while others did the work, not at all.
Marines took up positions behind tractors and crates, carefully looking down the sights of their rifles. Aside from the pattering of the rain, it was silent. There was no movement, nothing. Cautiously, they moved forward, and they saw the devastation.
The main colony doors were ajar, and looked blackened. Smoke billowed out into the wet air from a few holes in the colony, and some windows. Millar carefully scanned the area with his Smart gun, but saw nothing. He shook his head gently back at Lt. Blue, who looked at Sgt. Rhys, a tall woman who was knelt behind some crates, scanning with her binoculars. She motioned with her hand to move forward, which the Marines did.
"What the everloving fuck happened here?" Jameson asked, glancing around.
"Don't know, but keep your eyes up!" Rhys ordered. The Marines swept the area around the landing field and main entrance, but didn't find anything, not a single trace of anyone, enemy or friend.
Lt. Blue tapped his radio as the droplets of rain ran off the plates at the back of the helmet and down his back.
"Angels One and Two, you see anything?"
"Negative. Smoke's making it hard to see, same with the rain. See some equipment out about four-hundred yards from the main complex to the south, but no activity." Blue sighed as he looked up at the colony complex. The steel-alloy, pre-fabbed building looked haunting, something about it unnerved Lt. Blue in a way no other building ever had, save one. He felt a cold pit in his stomach. He looked at the Marines.
"Let's move up," he ordered, voice a whisper, but clearly heard over their radios. Millar took point as they moved towards the entrance of the colony. Blue was silent, eyes snapping back and forth, looking for any movement, any signs of the colonists. Millar glanced back at his commanding officer and smirked.
"No sweat, BIB, looks like the whole place is-" Those were the final words of the Private as his head virtually exploded, followed by the crack of a gunshot.
"Sniper!" shouted Lt. Blue as the Marines dove for any cover as gunfire filled the air.
"Fuck!" Pvt. Elde swore as he ducked behind a crate and returned fire, ignoring the fact that Millar's brains were quite literally splattered all over his armor and front.
"Who the fuck's shooting at us?!" Rhys growled as she fired at a flash of gunfire from a hole in the colony.
"Goddammit, did the fuckin' colonists go mental?!" one Marine asked as he reloaded.
"That ain't colonists!" another answered as the Marines returned fire. Another Marine yelled out in pain as a round hit his leg, knocking him down. The two others beside him pulled him out of the line of fire as they tried to even see who was shooting at them, let alone hit them back.
Lt. Blue growled as he tapped his radio.
"Growler One, gimme some fire support!"
"Roger, Sir," replied the APC driver as he swiveled the cannon around and aimed at the colony. The turret chattered with a loud roar as it opened up on the side of the colony, the heavy shells exploding as they hit. Some of the enemy gunfire died down as the APC unloaded on the unseen shooters.
"Growler One, do you see who's shooting at us?" Blue asked.
"Positive. Got two in the hole to the left, covered by smoke. One more on the roof, sniper. Use IR to track 'em." Blue grinned grimly as he flicked down the Infrared lens over his eye.
"Lenses!" he ordered. The Marines obliged, and now easily saw their enemies among the smoke and rain, silhouetted against the gray background as bright white figures.
"Die, bastards!"
"This is for Millar, you fucks!" Marines opened fire, grinning as they saw figures stagger or slump. Blue happened to look up at the last figure on the roof, and noticed the weapon they were hefting was too big to be a rifle.
"RPG!" he shrieked. The Marines huddled behind a parked tractor scattered in a panic as the rocket launched in a blaze of orange, streaking out and hitting the tractor in less than the blink of an eye, turning the former tractor into a huge fireball.
Blue took careful aim as the white figure dumped the empty RPG launcher. He waited for the figure to move, then fired a burst. The figure turned, raising a rifle just as Blue gave another burst, hitting them in the chest. They staggered and fell from the roof, dropping the rifle as they fell.
The Marines stayed where they were, scanning the roof and the smoky colony for any remaining hostiles. When no further gunfire came, Blue relaxed a tiny bit. "Rit-rep," he sighed into his headset.
"Millar's down, and Keegan got hit. Not bad, some stitches and bed," said Cpl. Antoine, their Medic. Carefully, the Marines regrouped.
"Okay, what the frag just happened?" asked Pvt. Wilson.
"We got jumped, man! What the hell did you think happened?" snapped Pvt. Hamilton, another Smartgunner.
"Well, who the hell jumped us?!" Wilson shot back.
"About time we find out. On me," said Blue as he carefully approached the fallen corpse of the sniper, the other Marines close by and carefully watching for any movement.
Pvt. Ryman carefully approached the body. He nudged it with his rifle before turning it over. "Well?" Blue asked. Ryman shook his head, looking confused.
"This ain't no colonist, I know that. But what they are, no idea." Blue came forward and looked at the body.
They were dressed all in black. Head to toe. They even wore a gas mask. The lenses were a bloody-red. The weapon was unlike any that Blue had ever seen. It was compact, but powerful, like a cross of a submachine gun and a rifle. Even clad in light armor and uniform, he could tell it was a human. He used his rifle to tilt the helmeted head.
That's when he saw it.
A white circle, with a bent cross-shape inside it. A Swastika. The same emblem was stitched on the shoulder of the uniform. "Sir, what is this?" Ryman asked, looking up at his Lieutenant. He was shocked at how still Lt. Blue was, and how he just stared at the body, eyes wide. "Sir? BIB?" The other Marines began to murmur. They had never seen him act like this. He slowly looked up at the colony, a horrified look adorning his features that scared the Marines worse than any enemy.
"Oh, dear God no . . ." Those words chilled the Marines for some unknown, horrible reason.
"Sir? What is this? Who are these people?" asked Pvt. Wilson. Lt. Blue was silent as he looked at the body.
" . . . They're Nazis." Some of the Marines looked confused, others startled, some shocked.
"Wait a minute. Nazis . . . that's World War Two. Twentieth Century. That's ancient history . . . Isn't it?"
"There's another body over here!" called another Marine. Sure enough, another body, clad exactly the same way, was laying on the wet cement where it had fallen from the smoking hole in the colony complex. One arm was missing, showing they were, indeed, flesh-and-blood humans underneath.
"Counting the sniper, and the ones already dead from the cannons, that makes eight," said Blue as he shouldered his weapon. He looked at the gathered Marines. "Let's sweep the colony. Squad One and Squad Two, on point. Hamilton, you take point. Watch your fire and check your targets. We're still looking for civilians. Let's move!" The Marines formed up and carefully entered the burned out colony.
Whatever they had been expecting inside, they were surprised all the same. The inside of the colony was burned and charred. It was a huge mess. Here and there, they could see some evidence of some gunfire, but only one or two instances. There was a few bloodstains here and there, but no bodies. Carefully, they swept the colony complex, using motion-trackers and heat sensors, but they found nothing.
"Where are they? This place should have lots of folks," said Wilson.
"Yeah. Haven't seen a single body, other than the guys we fragged," replied Jameson.
"This colony was reported to have three-hundred and fifty people. How the heck could they all just disappear?" Rhys asked. When they entered the main colony Operations area, it was in even worse shape. It looked like someone had taken flamethrowers to it. The computers were either fried, or, and far more disturbing, missing entirely. Whole computerbanks were missing, as if they had been just lifted up and carted away.
Lt. Blue slowly looked around, taking in the scene, the cold feeling in his gut getting even worse. The second squad entered the room, looking confused and bewildered.
"Just finished our sweep, Sir. Nothing. No bodies, nothing." Blue glanced around at the room.
"Sir, this is Angel One," came the voice of Deevs over their headsets. Blue tapped his radio.
"What do you have?" Blue asked. They all listened, worried at the silence. When Deevs replied, there was a tremor in his voice none of them had ever thought to hear.
"Sir . . . we-we found the colonists."
XXX
The Marines were tense as they rode in the APC out to where Deevs said he had located the colonists. The same area where he had sighted some parked tractors, crates and gear. Most of them had known Deevs the whole time they had served aboard the Sinclair, and none of them had ever heard him like that. Marines might not be Rhodes scholars, but even they could tell something was very wrong. They prepared themselves for the worst as the APC stopped and the door slid open.
The Marines stepped out into the cold, wet air, weapons ready. They walked a short distance before they saw it. It was a moment that would forever be seared into the memories of every man and woman who was there.
They had found the colonists, all of them. They all lay in a shallow pit, where their bodies had been dumped after they had been shot. The pit covered nearly an acre, filled with bodies. The Marines stared in shocked silence at what they beheld, their minds not able to wrap around what they were seeing. Some colonists had their hands tied behind their backs, others were unbound. Some had been shot in the body, but most had clearly been shot in the head; executed.
"Oh, my god . . ." Ryman murmured, his voice trembling, as was his body. Wilson was staring at the single most horrible sight of it all.
A little girl, no older than two, had been tossed on the pile of bodies, but what was most horrific, was the mess of blood and brain-matter where her head had been beaten against a metal container the size of their APC. She was still wearing a diaper, the marks of hands could still be seen on her legs where she had been grabbed and swung. One Marine broke down right there and sobbed.
"Oh, dear god! I-I've got a little girl! She looks just like her! Oh, sweet god in heaven!" he sobbed.
The United States Colonial Marines had seen many horrible things, had seen death and destruction, but this . . . this was something beyond. This was not war. This was murder. Lt. Blue stared at the pit as tears streamed down his face. It was even worse than he could have ever feared. This was a nightmare no Marine could ever even fathom.
"Those fucks! The bastards! How? How could they-?" one Marine swore, unable to finish as he trembled with anguish and fury.
"Monsters wearing the skins of men," said a female Marine, solemn and as angered as her fellow Marines.
"Sir. Come take a look at this" said Hughes. Blue followed the Marine over to where the body of a man had been strung up with barbed wire through his arms and legs. He was stripped of his clothes, a six-pointed star carved into his chest with a knife, along with a word. Wilson looked at the bloody body.
"J-U-D-E. Wonder what that means?" He looked at Blue, who stared at the body. He was surprised when he saw the look of mortal agony on the Lieutenant's face. In all his time, Wilson had never seen Blue show such emotion so openly on his face.
"He's a Jew," Blue said quietly. Blue stepped closer, and noted the grimace of pain and endurance upon the dead man's face. He had endured the torment to his last breath, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out or give in to the pain. Blue looked at the dog-tags around the man's neck, carefully lifting it to read. "Norman Goldbaum, Colony director."
"Jesus Christ," muttered Rhys as she stared in disbelief. Lt. Blue slowly shook his head as fresh tears fell.
"God damn them. How could they bring it back?"
"Sir! Sir!" yelled Jameson as he came pounding up, out of breath.
"What is it?!" Rhys asked, her face a scowl. Jameson panted as he looked at them, wiping his teary eyes.
"I found survivors. Kids." Blue blinked, his pupils pinpricks before he whirled.
"Marines, get yourselves together! There's nothing we can do for these folks. But we got survivors, and we have a duty to see they get out of her alive! We're talking kids here! Move your asses!" Blue followed Jameson a ways off to a cargo container, the rest of the Marines in tow.
The container was almost as big as a house, made of tough steel-composite. Jameson carefully opened the door, the other Marines peeking in, their shoulder-lamps illuminated the inside. Tiny, frightened faces stared back. They looked terrified.
"Don't be scared, kids. We're soldiers. We're here to help," said Jameson in as soft a voice he could manage. There were a few scattered whimpers. Among them, a baby began crying. Blue moved forward and knelt down, so as not to tower over the frightened children, and scare them even more.
"Shhh. It's okay. We're good guys. Here, see?" He removed his helmet, so they could see his face better. Some of the children shied away, some cowered. A few held looks that could be close to hope. Blue smiled as best he could as he looked back. "Antoine, get over here!" he hissed at the Medic. He looked back at the scared kids, noticing a little girl, no older than eight, who was rocking back and forth, sucking her thumb, staring off into space. "If they touched her . . ." he mentally growled. Cpl. Antoine knelt and smiled at the nearest child, a little boy, who looked to be only about six or so.
"You're safe, kids. Nobody's going to hurt you," he soothed. There were a few whimpers.
"Where's my daddy?" a boy asked in a trembling voice. "I want my daddy."
"Mommy!"
"Daddy!"
"Grammy!" The piteous cries of the children tore at the Marines. Soldiers or not, no human being with a beating heart could hear those cries, and not feel the anguish and sorrow that flooded them. Some of the Marines sobbed, others shed silent tears, but none were unmoved.
"Why the hell did they spare the kids?" Wilson asked.
One of the other Marines, Pvt. Nichols, noticed something stuck to a wall. It was a sheet of plastic, with writing on it. It looked like a shipping manifest. He took it and looked at it. He looked up with a start.
"Sir! Look at this!" he hurried over to hand the sheet to Blue. The Lieutenant took the sheet, and instantly recognized the eagle, bearing a Swastika. His eyes scanned the document.
"Eliminated three-hundred and twenty. Children tested, saved thirty, confirmed Aryan. Reich Transport en route," he translated aloud. When he looked up, the Marines wore expressions of shock, anger and even rage. "They were taking children back with them. "Aryans". Just like the Ancient Nazis did." They looked at the children, and noticed that they all had fair skin and hair of various shades of blonde. The few they were closest to all had blue eyes. More than a few Marines were quivering with pure, unrestrained anger. Blue gave a soft sigh as he handed the manifest to Rhys, who folded it up and put it into one of her pouches on her belt. Blue looked at his gathered Marines. "Keep it together, people. We have to get these kids out of here. Antoine? How are they?" The Medic looked at him as he examined the girl, who rocked back and forth, not acknowledging him in any way.
"Physically, they look okay. I'm worried about the littlest. The smallest I've seen I'd say is six months old at best. Thank god they haven't been here very long. But the weather is cold and wet. We gotta get them out of her as soon as we can." Blue nodded.
"The monsters . . ." said a little girl, shivering. Rhys knelt next to her.
"It's okay, sweetie. The monsters are gone. They're not coming back," she soothed in a motherly way.
"They said they were," the girl replied. Blue looked at her before his radio screeched.
"Sir, Angel One! I got an unidentified craft, closing fast! And it's not alone!" Blue jolted at that.
"How far?"
"Twenty klicks and closing!" All the Marines muttered and hefted their weapons.
"How many?" Blue asked as he walked outside and looked around.
"I count four- wait, seven! Closing fast from the southeast! They don't look friendly."
"Shit!" Blue swore. "Angel Two, do you have a visual?"
"Lemme see . . . Dammit! Dropships! Look like modified Cheyennes." Blue looked up as dropship Angel Two streaked overhead. Blue looked, and could see spots on the horizon, closing fast. He turned back to the gathered Marines.
"We got company! Hurry and get the kids out of there. Angel One, get your ass down here and-" There was a sudden sound they had never heard. It as a strange shrieking sound, followed by a whoosh.
"This is Angel Two! I'm taking fire! They got missiles!" That was the last transmission as a loud boom echoed and the Marine dropship exploded into a huge fireball.
"Oh my god . . ." Wilson gaped. Blue went into action.
"Angel One, get your ass out of there! Growler Two, give us some fire support. Rhys, Antoine, help get the kids. Growler One, you better have the doors open and the guns hot! We're getting out of here!" Blue growled as he checked his ammo-counter. "Angel One, avoid enemy fire and head for the colony complex, we're evacuating ASAP. Full retreat!"
"Aye, Sir! Meet you there!" replied Deevs as the remaining dropship screamed overhead and headed for the colony as the second APC thundered up and opened fire with its cannons on the approaching dropships. The Marines hurried to gather up the children and load them into the nearest APC, Growler One. Children cried and sobbed as Marines carried them, trying to comfort them as best they could. Blue looked up as more missiles shrieked forth from the Nazi ships, impacting the ground and bathing the land in an orange glow as they exploded. Growler Two continued to fire, managing to hit one enemy dropship, taking off a wing-pod, making it careen wildly and crash into a rock formation. The victory was short-lived, as the next volley of missiles hit the APC dead-on, tearing it apart in a bright-orange cloud of fire and shrapnel.
"Fuck!" Blue swore, looking up, and now fully able to see the Nazi craft.
They were, indeed, modified a version of the Cheyenne dropship they were so familiar with. These, though, had bigger missile-pods, larger gun batteries and were black as midnight, save for the white circle and Swastika on the side. Blue turned back as they loaded the last of the kids into Growler One. Blue dashed for the APC and slammed the door. Every Marine had at least one child on their lap, if not two. The space was cramped, but he was glad for it. "Punch it! Whoever's closest to the turret controls, get on 'em! We gotta keep them of our back!" Wilson set a little girl and boy aside, patting them in comfort, before sitting in the chair for the control of the roof turret as the APC rocketed off towards the colony.
Wilson grimaced as the screen lit up, and he saw the Nazi dropships giving chase. He grinned without mirth as he grabbed the controls and aimed the turret.
"Take this, you motherfuckers," he growled as he opened fire. The turret roared as missiles screamed in reply. Wilson managed to hit the leading dropship, making it careen a bit, and allowing him to hit it right in the cockpit, destroying it in a huge fireball. The reply was more of the shrieking missiles. The APC shook as missiles impacted close-by. Children whimpered and cried as the armored vehicle sped towards the landing grid. Wilson returned fire, but the Nazis were learning, and evaded his fire, and flew in patterns to confuse his aim.
A missile strike made the APC tilt dangerously as it narrowly avoided the fate of its brother.
"Dodge them! Dodge the fire! Weave, fire flares, do anything!" Jameson yelled as the children cried in fear.
"Doing my best!" answered the driver. Marines held the frightened children, trying to comfort them, and still focus. The APC fired a series of white flares into the air, to confuse the aim of the enemy ships. It worked a bit, and the next salvo of missiles went wide and blew up some rocks, instead of the APC. Blue looked at the screens of the command center, then back to the driver.
"ETA?"
"'Bout three minutes!" replied the driver. Blue grinned.
Suddenly, the APC rocked, tumbling as children screamed and gear went flying. There was a screech of metal as the APC crashed and rumbled.
"Agh! What the hell?!" Jameson grunted as he got up from under some crates of ammo.
"The bastards flipped us like a tortoise!" Wilson growled as he struggled out of his chair.
"Quick! The door!" Blue breathed as he hurried over and tripped the latch, sliding the door open.
The APC had been flipped over by a missile, and rolled over into a small gully of rock. The whole thing was upside down, now. Blue motioned for the Marines to grab the kids and hurry out. Wilson grunted as he looked up at the dropships as they approached.
"That blast should have blown us to hell. Why didn't they?" Wilson asked as Blue frowned.
"They don't want to kill us. They want the kids," he replied. Wilson looked at Blue, then back to the Nazi ships and glared.
"They'll get 'em over my dead body," he vowed. Blue sighed as he looked up at the enemy craft.
"That's the idea," Blue replied.
"Sir, Angel One! Where the hell are you?!" Blue grimaced as he tapped his radio.
"Just beside the colony complex. Growler One is down. We're moving on foot towards the LZ."
"Sir, they just dropped troops, other side of the complex. A good thirty or so. With troops and dropships, you'll never make it!"
"Never say never," replied Blue. He turned to Wilson. "How are the Smart guns?" he asked.
"Still working," replied Wilson. Blue nodded.
"Good. Arm up. We got enemy grunts inbound. Keep the kids behind you at all times, but keep moving." Wilson looked up at the dropships.
"Troops are one thing, but dropships are another. We don't have anything that could take those birds down!" Wilson growled, not defeated, but angry. Blue grinned.
"Yeah, we do. Follow me," he said as they dove back into the APC, reemerging with Wilson armed with a Smart gun, and Blue carrying an RPG. "Okay, Marines! Let's beat feet!" Blue ordered as they headed for the Landing Grid. Blue turned and took aim with the RPG, aiming at the nearest dropship, and waited for it to lock on. No sooner did the targeting crosshair turn red, than he let a missile fly and turned and ran. The missile homed in in the dropship as it tried to evade, striking it on the missile-pod, setting of the missiles in a massive explosion. The remains of the dropship crashed to the ground below in a huge wave of fire. Wilson took point, Smartgun primed and ready. No sooner did he see figures, than he let loose a volley of fire, dropping the two Nazis and making the others take cover.
"Take that, you dirty sons of bitches!" Wilson screamed as the Marines ran past the open colony doors. Blue plucked a grenade from his belt, hit the button, and lobbed it into the open doors.
"Granate!" came the yell just before it went off, hopefully killing the Nazis. The Marines didn't stay to find out. They hustled as best they could, carrying children or helping them run.
"Come on, kids! Keep going! Just a little further!" Jameson urged.
"Mommy!" a little girl cried, prompting Hughes to grab her and hug her as they ran, picking her up in his strong arms.
"It's okay, honey. It's all right. I got you," Hughes comforted as they ran. Gunfire began to erupt. Blue aimed the RPG at the high corner of the colony and fired. He kept his eyes glued to the targeting screen, watching as the Nazis were blown clear off of the building by the blast. He grinned as they hustled. They could see the dropship in the landing grid. Deevs was firing the Gatling gun at Nazi soldiers, the missile-pods deployed and ready to fire, if he needed.
"I see you! Come on! Get your asses in here!" Deevs said as he mowed down four Nazis with the Gatling gun. The Marines hustled, forming a ring around the scared, crying children who could run, and carrying those who couldn't. Some struggled to carry the kids, and fire back at the Nazi troops, others just acted as living shields as they ran.
A single, loud crack issued. Blue staggered, body swinging around with the force of the heavy bullet that hit him. Blood spattered on his left shoulder armor from where the round hit between the plates.
"Shit! BIB!" Wilson yelled, looking back as the Lieutenant staggered.
"Snipers! Run!" Blue yelled as he snapped down his IR lens and looked around. He saw the snipers, one on each corner of the roof of the complex. He saw one draw a bead on Wilson. Blue aimed the RPG and fired, the missile blasting the sniper into a red mist, and knocking another one off his feet, hopefully killing him. Gunfire erupted from the colony building, and he felt rounds hit his armor. Another bullet hit him in the thigh, knocking him to his knees.
"Sir! No!" Jameson yelled, ready to run back and aid his commanding officer.
"Get the kids outta here! That's an order! Oorah to ashes!" yelled Blue as he whirled and fired the RPG into the building, killing at least five enemies, if not more. Blue looked up, and saw an enemy dropship, aiming at their own dropship. He aimed and fired his last missile. The Nazi dropship exploded and crashed into the side of the colony complex in a huge explosion that almost knocked everyone off their feet. Another sniper round hit Blue in the middle of the chest, cracking his armor. Finally, he collapsed.
The Marines could do nothing but watch as Blue was taken down, but his stand allowed them to finally make it to the ramp of the dropship, hurrying to get the kids in and take off. Jameson gave one last look as his fallen Lieutenant.
"God speed, Sir." He ran in and hit the close button for the ramp.
"Get us out of here!" Rhys yelled.
"Yes, Ma'am!" Deevs replied as the dropship lifted up as several Nazis with Smart guns ran up and fired at them. Deevs let them have a few missiles as a parting gift before turning sharply and rocketing off into the skies.
XXX
Back on the ground, several Nazis approached the fallen body of Lt. Blue, who lay on his stomach, and had not moved. Their guns were trained on him as they carefully approached. One kicked his leg. No response. The Nazi grabbed his shoulder and turned him over. Lt. Blue grinned as he held a detonator for two anti-armor mines in one hand, and an open locket in the other. In the locket, was a scrap of ancient cloth. It was of blue and white stripes. In the middle, was a yellow star, with the word "Jude" stitched on it.
"This is for my family, you fucks," he growled, hitting the button. The explosion could be heard for miles.
XXX
On the Sinclair, the Marines finally collapsed, dazed, confused, angered, saddened. However, the first and foremost concern was the children. Cpl. Antoine checked over the children for injuries, thankful they were not hurt physically, save for a few scratches or scrapes.
"Did that really just happen?" Jameson asked no one in particular.
"Yeah, it did," replied Nichols. Jameson sighed, sitting on a crate, helmet removed, head in his hands.
It was then that they heard something. The soft sound of gentle singing. Someone was singing an old lullaby. Everyone looked, and was shocked into silence as they saw Hughes, Cpl. Edward "Rabid" Hughes, one of the toughest and oldest Marines in their platoon, holding a little girl in his arms, gently singing. She was asleep, a look of peace upon her small features. His smile was gentle and serene. Wilson almost had to pick his jaw up off the floor.
"Hughes . . . wow, man." Hughes looked up at him, his graying hair shimmering in the light of the landing bay.
"Hey, I got Grandkids back home," was all he said. This brought a few smiles. The Marines looked at each other, and went to work getting the kids some food and calmed down.
XXX
It was later, and the children were fed and asleep. Antoine had prepped them for Hypersleep, ready to return to Earth. As the ranking Marine, Sergeant Lola Rhys was writing the report back to Command on what had happened. She never, in all her years, would have ever expected to write that her platoon was attacked by Nazis. Or that they had found a whole colony, butchered in cold blood. She ran a hand over her short brown hair, green eyes looking at the screen as she typed the names of their dead.
In all, they had lost nine Marines, including Lt. Blue. She rubbed her eyes, hesitating as she typed the name of the man who trained her. The man who had barked orders at boot camp and refused to let her quit. The same man who saved her bacon on more than on occasion. The same man she and Hughes had drank with and laughed. The man who was like a father and big brother. Her hands felt heavy as her fingers hit the keys.
Brian Israel Bluman. KIA. From the drop-down menu for the symbol that would be on his grave in Arlington, she selected a Star of David. Lastly, she wrote a small note:
"Recommended for award of Distinguished Service Star." With that, she saved the document and sent it, rubbing her eyes as she stood up and looked at a window, staring out into the endless sea of stars beyond. She walked to the window, looking down at the planet of AL-936. She clicked the heels of her boots together as a single tear rolled down her face, her hand coming up in a salute.
"Semper Fi, Sir."
Author's note: This story is dedicated to the memory of my Grandfather, a WWII Veteran, and survivor of D-Day and the Ardennes, and who taught me the difference between a soldier, and a Warrior.
Anrhydedd am byth.