Reviews :
FranticHamster : Mass Relays are relatively uncommon, especially dormant ones. It wouldn't take much extrapolation on the part of the Turians to narrow down the likeliest point of origin for the Patterson, and from there they can just follow the Relay back to the human's home system or interrogate any prisoners they take for more information. Also, Power Armor isn't standard equipment, and is still relatively rare. Only dedicated Special Forces are trained in their use and issued them, much like directed energy weapons.
metaladdict : The Council have yet to establish any sort of communications with the human race, and any interaction between aliens and humans is sure to be closely monitored by Mr. House. And really, while certain individuals may have some amount of power, none of them are in any position to challenge Mr. House's hegemony, even if they did somehow all band together.
FractiousDay : Mothership Zeta was captured by the Lone Wanderer and their human allies. Sally and Elliot are currently living on board, and fled the Solar System after a brief confrontation with Mr. House's first Astrotrons. They might show up in later story arcs, but they won't be participating the the First Contact War. I didn't want humanity to be too overpowered, considering their already staggering technological advantage. The Lone Wanderer's fate is kind of a spoiler. Finally, the Enclave have pretty much been wiped out at this point. After the destruction of their oil rig in the west and the loss of their land crawler to the brotherhood of steel along with the self-destruction of Raven Rock, their numbers and resources are critically depleted. Any who are left are in pretty much the same boat as Arcade and the rest of the remnants in the Mojave. (And besides, Mr. House and the Enclave are mutually suspicious of each other, and as the current ruler of the majority of the USA, he needs no rivalry from the supposedly "legitimate" Enclave of the US Government.)
Zarl : Don't worry, the next few chapters will have quite a bit of action in them as the humans make first contact with the "alien menace". And I have plans to introduce Lord Death to the story as a proper character, but I don't want to make it too sudden. The humans and the Citadel will duke it out on their own for awhile before the situation deteriorates to the point where Mr. House even considers informing Lord Death of the situation.
Yinko : The problem with more advanced robotics is their scarcity. Liberty Prime was considered highly experimental and expensive even before the Great War, when America was pretty much the largest and most advanced civilization on Earth. Now that they're literally just recovering from the Great War, most of their resources are going to be devoted to rebuilding their shattered industry and population before they start funneling money into super death robot research. Mr. House's Securitrons are easy to produce en masse because the design has already been perfected, and Mr. House (being their inventor) would know where to locate and salvage the components necessary to get some Securitron factories up and running without too much trouble. That combined with New Vegas' booming economy allows for the development of a "working class" or wastelanders, who could presumably find employment in the new Securitron factories and promptly blow half their paychecks at one of Mr. House's casinos.
Wanderer101: Dialogue makes it pretty clear that Mr. House just plain doesn't like the Brotherhood of Steel in general. He argues that their philosophy and general lifestyle is "ridiculous", and mocks them for basically playing Knights with what he sees as advanced military hardware. He directly refers to their organization as a terrorist group, and in many ways he actually has a pretty good point. (Elijah's attempts to seize control of the KillSat at Helios One, Elijah's later attempt to weaponize the Sierra Madre and kill everyone in the Mojave, and of course the behavior of the Outcast Brotherhood). As for the Midwest, their influence and scope seems to be much smaller than you're implying, given the way Caesar's Legion was able to dominate "The West" without much trouble from them. It should also be noted that Mr. House can produce thousands of Securitrons and replace any losses he incurs essentially overnight, whereas numbers have never been the Brotherhood's strong suit. Besides, the army that conquered all of those territories also consisted of highly-trained mercenaries, ghost-people warriors, and Lord Death himself. Supplemented with Vertibirds and Securitrons under House's control along with his strategic brilliance, I can see such an army making short work of anything the Brotherhood could throw together.
They say that dreams are a lot like visions. They're messages, from either your ancestors or from the spirits themselves. Warnings sometimes, or instructions. Legend had it that many a hero from the old stories was guided by spirits in their dreams.
Of course, modern science disproved this idea, as much as science can ever disprove superstition. Dreams were just rapid eye movement during sleep. They were your mind's way of sorting out information, deciding what to keep for long term memory and what to discard into forgetfulness. Knowing all of this, though, wouldn't stop a stubborn Turian from believing what they right in front of their eyes rather than some book report from the lab geeks.
He was back home, just standing there. Actually, no. That wasn't the word for it. It was more like he was floating, in zero-g even when he knew intellectually that he should've been experiencing a Palaven-standard gravitational pull.
All around him were the sights and sounds of the homeworld, as seen through the eyes of a child. It was the old hunting ground where his father had first taught him to shoot a rifle. A small, dense forest of trees with bright green and pale red leaves. It was teeming with life, and they were far from the only predators about. The constant struggle for survival that was the circle of life was a constant fact of life here, unlike in the nearby arcology where it was followed in principal if not in practice.
The sun shined brightly down from the light indigo sky, a burning torch to light their path through the dark forest. Prey was all around them, simply frolicking and playing in the wilderness without a care in the world. It was a nonsensical dream – In real life, it took months of constant practice to spot anything in this particular area, as millennia of evolution had spared only the stealthiest of prey to breed in so close to the traditional Turian habitats.
His father was standing there. He seemed a giant, towering head and shoulders over his then-teenaged body. Of course, his father was dead. He knew this. He'd known it ever since his patrol was declared Missing-In-Action after an attempt to pursue a band of Terminus pirates out into the Traverse. Still, seeing him there, like that – It was strange. Not unpleasant, after all these years, but… It brought back memories he thought he'd buried.
The older Turian said nothing, instead silently shaking his head, raising a taloned hand to point. It wasn't pointing towards any prey, or even the forest itself. His father saw something in the sky. He was momentarily paralyzed by the sudden change in his father's demeanor, who had adopted a look of terrified panic that was simply alien to the proud old soldier's face.
There, up in the sky, was a cloud. Not just any cloud, but a billowing, orange-black monstrosity that seemed to open up its maw to swallow the sun. It was rising up like some kind of abominable tree, or….
Or a mushroom. It grew and grew, even as a deafening silence drowned out the sounds of birds, insects and the trees shaking in the winds. A shockwave seemed to blast back from the epicenter of the cloud, slicing across the landscape and headed for them in slow motion. His father knocked him to the ground just as it came upon them, and he could only watch in impotent, horrified paralysis as the wave took him to pieces.
"Grah!" Nihlus screamed, shooting up from his cot in the Infirmary even as his ribbed twisted in protest.
He looked around him, searching for the burning forest on Palaven or his father's shattered remains, only to find himself in a stark, pristine infirmary polished to regulation standard.
He was back on board the Stalwart. A Dream. It had been a dream, he realized, even as his heartbeat raced and the heat rose in his skin.
"Sergeant!" He heard someone call out, turning to him with concern. "Are you…are you okay? I mean- Sir?" She asked.
It was Julon, he realized. She was seated on a chair pulled up to his cot. She must've been waiting up for him and dozed off.
"At ease, corporal." He tried waving a talon, before a painful reminder of his injuries shot up to his shoulder. "It was just a bad dream. Urgh…I'll be okay."
"That's good to hear." Someone else in the room said. It took Nihlus a second to recognize the voice – It was the ship's Doctor, Horill Grantarus. Nihlus didn't often find himself in the infirmary, but he'd served on the Stalwart long enough to bump into the Doc a few times. He was a bit "big-boned" for a Turian, but he was good at his job, judging by how well Nihlus' wounds seemed to be coming along. He felt like shit at the moment, sure, but the way he'd been before… He could almost swear he could hear the singing from the Paradise Choirs as Julon was dragging him out of the shuttle.
"Those…things, did a real number on you. The Doctor looked at a readout on his Omni-Tool, scrolling down with his other talon even as he spoke to them. "Your hardsuit was practically fused into your wounds in some places, and your left arm was practically hanging on by a string of cartilage. Your left lung was pierced about twenty-five centimeters from your heart, and we had to stitch up your stomach and face, too. In all honesty, the only reason you're still even alive is because those lasers cauterized your injuries…For now, you're out of the redzone, at least." He finished his summary of the damage.
"Hrm. What about the others…?" He asked. He needed to know that before anything else. He had been entrusted to lead those men. It was just supposed to have been a routine boarding action, and instead…Instead, it had turned into a massacre. Of them.
"You'll have to talk to Mavriun about that. Oh, that reminds me, he wanted you two hooked up to the Conference as soon as you woke up. Here, I'll set it up." He went over to the computer panel on the wall beside the cot, calling up the communications systems.
"What conference?" He asked. Horill was busy, so it was Julon that answered him.
"Captain Mavriun is in a conference with the council right now. I…I reported what we saw on board that ship, and the Captain decided that this was too big to pursue on our own. My guess is he wants your account." She explained.
"Right. So, what? He's just going to patch me into their conference call with the council? Today just gets better and better…" He used his sarcasm to cover up the growing pit in his stomach. Him, speak to the council? He was just a sergeant…And if they had been kept waiting then…Tolius. Tolius must not have made it. Damn it.
Just as he finished that thought, no less than five three-dimensional Holograms appeared in the room as the lights dimmed. Horill backed away, and Nihlus found himself short of breath as he recognized not just Captain Mavriun and the Citadel Council, but General Desolas as well. If he was here, then Mavriun (And by extension, the rest of the Stalwart's crew) must be in deeper shit than they thought.
"Sergeant Kryik. So good of you to join us." Desolas began glibly. The man was taller and sturdier than was typical for a turian, but he still had a lean, predatory look. Nihlus could tell from his expression that he was not happy with whatever the guys in Operations had typed up, or what he'd seen on the armor cams.
Mavriun looked uncomfortable, even over video call. He kept wringing his hands and shifting his footing, and it was obvious even over vid conferencing that he was out of his depth. Nihlus could sympathize. They were patched in to the three most powerful politicians in Citadel Space, as well as a decorated General with a fearsome reputation.
"Sergeant." Mavriun acknowledged the newcomer to the conversation and brought him up to speed. "This is General Desolas. We were just discussing your…findings on the…the ship. We've all seen the vid feed, but the General wanted to hear it from you."
No one else said anything, so Nihlus nodded and began his story. The whole time, Desolas and the three councilors were staring at him intensely, judging him. Nihlus had never been particularly skittish with superior officers, but right now he was feeling the full force of the pressure.
He began with what he knew of the incident that led to the incident that led to his boarding of the ship, their findings, and his speculation about this being some kind of new spacefaring species. Then came the mechs.
"They were…big, sir. Armored, too. Nothing we threw at them seemed to work. Our bullets just lodged in the front armor – they didn't penetrate. I had to switch to incendiary ammo just to punch through the…the screen, with the face." He explained. His mind momentarily flashed back to the attack.
It had come right out of nowhere. It was like a vidscreen, mounted on an armored chassis with broad, box-like shoulders and ridged tubes for arms. In either arm it carried some kind of analogue to a machine pistol. That wasn't the trouble. In the other arm it had a laser gun.
"We've seen the vid, Kryik." Desolas interjected. "What we really want to know is whether what we saw was really what it looked like."
Nihlus understood immediately what the general was getting at. "…No." He said, hesitantly. "No, I don't think it was a genuine AI. Not like the geth, anyways."
"And what evidence do you have to support that assertation?" Asked the salarian Councilor. The Council had been letting Desolas take the floor up until then, but it was clear that everything Nihlus said would be under close scruntiny. He would just have to do his best to give a truthful account of what went down on that ship.
"Hmm…well…" Nihlus began, searching for the right words. The last thing he wanted was to appear stupid or incompetent in front of two of his superiors as well as the Citadel Council. "It didn't behave like I would expect an AI to. It was…stupid, ah, for lack of a better term." He said, remembering who he was talking to.
"Explain." Desolas growled.
Nihlus gulped involuntarily. He was relatively new to his tenure as a Sergeant, and had mostly served on fringe colonies or patrols out in the boondocks. He wasn't used to addressing anyone so high up on the chain of command, let alone some of the most powerful politicians in Citadel Space.
"Well, you saw how they acted, uh, sir. They just…charged at us. They didn't try to communicate, or get us to surrender, or to capture us for interrogation. That might be explainable, but they didn't fight like intelligent beings at all, either. They just kept rushing us. It didn't try to get behind cover, or make a tactical retreat when it knew it was outnumbered or when it took enough damage. It shot at whoever it could hit with its uh…Laser gun….and kept at it until we finally managed to put it down. We only encountered the one on our end, but I haven't seen Tolius' vid feed yet." He explained his reasoning as best he could. The things hadn't seemed like AIs, but what did he know? He was just a grunt. Mavriun, Julon, or even Horill were probably more qualified to make that call than he was. But it had been his command, and that meant that he had to take responsibility for everything his squad saw or did on that mission.
"Nor will you. Sergeant Kryik, I'm afraid that, for the time being at least, this incident is officially classified information. It's on a need-to-know basis." The Turian Councilor informed him flatly. Nihlus had never been much one for politics, and he had only ever been through the primary education all Turian's underwent in their childhood. He couldn't put a name to the Turian Councilor's face, was his point.
"Yes, well, it seems to me that Sergeant Kryik and his team are already stooped in this little mishap. Isn't that right, Mavriun." General Desolas' hologram turned to regard the captain angrily. "What in the spirit's name were you thinking?! You shot down an alien ship without knowing anything about them or their capabilities! For all we know, they could be some mindlessly violent horde like the Krogan. Or they could be some kind of…some kind of techno-collective hive-mind like the Rachni. Hell, even if they were just like the Quarians this would be a disaster. The bubble-heads might be refugees now, but what about when the Geth were still loyal to them?" Desolas' implication was not lost on either Mavriun or Nihlus. None of them had been around for the time before the Geth turned against their creators, but they had all heard the stories. How the Quarians had acted high-and-mighty with their army of robotic minions, aggressively claiming Dextro-worlds for colonization and daring either the Terminus or the Turians to try and stop them. Their behavior won them no friends amongst the Hierarchy, and it had been one of the reasons that they had been so vehemently ejected from Citadel Space when the Geth went rogue. The idea that they might've just personally pissed off a race that appeared to have even more powerful synthetics at their disposal was…disturbing.
"We shouldn't allow conjecture to influence our decisions." The Salarian Councilor spoke again, admonishing General Desolas. "What we need right now is more information. The General is right about one thing – we know almost nothing about these aliens. Even their true name eludes us at present. Was there truly nothing you could salvage from their ship?" He left the question open, and it was Mavriun that chose to answer.
"No." he shook his head dejectedly. "After Sergeant Kryik disabled one of those…things…It self-destructed a short time later. We don't know what they use to power those things, maybe some kind of fusion generator based on the radiation readings we picked up on our sensors. Whatever it was, it was enough shatter what was left of the ship. If the Sergeant and his team had been any slower, they wouldn't have made it back alive.
"Pity. If that's true, then there's likely nothing left of the ship's computers. That being the case, we shouldn't make any hasty decisions until we know what we're dealing with. I recommend that we have the STG gather intelligence on this species before we do anything else." The Salarian Councilor continued.
"Unacceptable." General Desolas tersely stated, his hologram shimmering for a moment as he shifted and turned back to the Council. "It would be months before they uncovered anything of value, and by then it might be too late. Need I remind you that we caught them in the process of activating a dormant Mass Relay? You invite a galactic-scale catastrophe every day that you let these aliens have free reign of the Traverse." General Desolas was growing frantic and angry. He had never been the most level-headed General of the Turian Hierarchy, and things only got worse after the Gorsham Massacre. He took a moment to pause, seeming to regain his composure after closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Councilors, I implore you, do not let this young and foolish race risk our continued existence any longer. Their…mech technology may have caught Mavriun's patrol off guard, but I am confident that they won't be able to stand up to a dedicated pacification fleet."
The Asari Councilor bristled at that. "So, it's a war you want. General, your people opened fire on their ship first. Yes, they were in violation of the Citadel Conventions, but their first response was not violence. It would be unconscionable to escalate into war without more substantial evidence of wrongdoing." The Asari were always the first to the table when the time came to negotiate. Nihlus didn't know how he felt about that, right now. As a Turian, he was opposed to letting this race off so easily, especially after they did to Tolius and the rest of his team. But…after going on board that ship, and seeing the lifeless bodies of the aliens floating in the unlit, airless corridors…He couldn't help but have doubts about their true culpability, especially considering the automated nature of their defenses.
"Mavriun may have been…overzealous in his enforcement, but the fact remains that these aliens broke the law, and we can only assume that this operation was standard practice for them. They could be opening Mass Relays all over the Traverse, right now, as we speak. Their mechs are very powerful, and are armed with deadly, technologically advanced weapons. Who's to say that they aren't developing sentient AIs, uncaring of the danger? This cannot continue. These aliens are ignorant to the point of irresponsibility, and they must be brought to heel." General Desolas declared, slamming a taloned fist into his other hand.
"Much as it displeases me, I'm afraid that I have to agree with the General on this one." The Turian Councilor spoke up, sounding daunted but resolved. "We are the Citadel Council, and we must make it clear to all of the galaxy's spacefaring races that our Conventions must be followed for the good of the galactic community. This…new race has broken our laws, and we must make an example out of them for their own good as well as that of the rest of Citadel Space. I move to accept General Arterius' proposal to send a pacification fleet to deliver an ultimatum to these aliens : 'submit to Council authority or feel the full force of our power'."
"This is ridiculous." The Asari Councilor clearly objected to the idea. "We are the Citadel Council. We are the mediators and diplomats that bring our species together. We are not some…some evil empire bent on the subjugation of every alien race we discover! I cannot in good conscience lend my support to this cause. If you stay this course, you will do so without Asari support." She crossed her arms, although even Nihlus could tell that she was getting more flustered than usual over these aliens. Maybe it was because they looked so much like Asari, at least on the outside. He assumed that they had all seen the entirety of the vid from their armor cams – He supposed it was only natural that a politician would be more sensitive to the deaths of aliens in such vivid detail than a soldier like himself.
That brought the conversation squarely to the Salarian Councilor's podium, who seemed to be dithering on the fence about the whole thing. His would be the deciding vote – would it be compromise, or war? The Turians were the militants, and the Asari the peacemakers. With the Salarians, it could go either way depending on the situation.
"Councilor Tevos…" He began, seeming to pause for a moment to find the right words. The room was wholly silent, both in the infirmary and over the vidcomm. "I understand your perspective, and I appreciate your concerns."
General Desolas let a grimace of frustration mar his features even as the Asari Councilor visibly relaxed and smiled in that patronizing way the Asari seem so adept at. Nihlus, and presumably the Turian Councilor as well, reserved judgement, sensing a 'but' coming. They were vindicated not a moment later.
"…But I must agree with General Desolas. These…aliens, have shown not only a propensity towards the development of advanced robotics that could lead to the creation of unshackled AIs, but also that they possess extremely sophisticated military technology. This combination could have disastrous consequences for the entirety of Citadel Space if left unchecked. I believe that it is in our best interest to initiate a police action against this race, at least until we can persuade them to abandon this dangerous path of development." He finished, much to the silent but readily apparent delight of General Desolas, going by the smirk on the old war bird's face. The Asari Councilor, Tevos, could only lower her head in silent resignation, bowing to the decision of the majority Council vote.
The Turian Councilor turned back to the General. "General Desolas, in accordance with all standing Citadel Conventions, this Council has resolved to accept your proposal. You are hereby granted permission to take the Citadel Security Fleet to the estimated location of the alien colonies and launch a full militarized investigation of this race, and are given blanket leave to take any actions you deem necessary to curtail any violations of the Citadel Conventions you discover."
"Thank you, Councilor. I will begin marshalling the fleet immediately. We will teach these aliens that the Citadel is the paramount government in the galaxy, and that our laws will not be ignored." General Desolas bowed, although Nihlus could hear the hunger in his voice. It was done, though.
Whether they decided to call it "Police Action" or "Investigation" or whatever trite little phrase they wanted, the fact was that they were off to war against a species of unknown origins and power. Power that Nihlus had experienced firsthand, and had barely survived. He could still feel the empty, nauseous sensation in the pit of his gut that was currently patched over with a medical strip, where a infantry-scale laser beam had lanced through his stomach and out the other end. His lungs still burned, and he could barely even feel the left third of his upper body.
"May the Spirits guide you, General. And Good Luck." The Turian Councilor said, before manipulating a device not picked up by the vidcam and promptly disappearing. Tevos and the Salarian did the same, until only Mavriun and General Desolas were left.
"Sergeant Kryik." General Desolas said after a moment of silence, snapping him to attention with a start.
"Y-yes sir?" He asked, somewhat nervously. It was always difficult to tell when you were in deep shit with General Desolas, from what he'd heard. They said that the man never shifted out of his brisk, contemptuous growl, no matter who he was addressing. It could be the lowest private in the Hierarchy to the Primarch himself. The General didn't coddle.
"I realize that your injuries are extensive, but your services will be needed for this campaign." He said, not quite diplomatically, but at least explanatory, as if attempting to teach a cadet the finer points of zero gravity marksmanship. "You're the only soldier we've got that has any sort of combat experience against these aliens, and we're going to need that expertise to plan our invasion. I expect you to report to the Destiny Ascension within the week. Desolas out." With that, the hologram flickered out, leaving a dazed Nihlus, sullen Mavriun, gormless Horill, and concerned Julon to stare at each other in silence, processing what had just happened.
10 Days Later …
The sun was up high today, and rays of heat seemed to barrel down on the brilliant viridian woodland like the inside of an oven. At least, that was probably how the Northies felt right then. It was nothing compared to the Mojave, or even most of the NCR, so it wasn't nearly as hard on them.
Zack let his mind wander as he took in the sight of the world around him. It was so…different. The trees weren't the petrified, rock-like skeletons that were everywhere back on Earth. They were dark, healthy, and practically teeming with their own ecosystems of insects, birds, and other small animals. The leaves were all a rich, dark-green color, and the bark seemed like roughly molded chocolate. The thick, tall grass overflowed everywhere the sun could hit, and almost seemed to glow lime green in the middle of the day. The skies were blue and sunny, but also flourishing with a swath of pure marshmallowy clouds, looking like some angel had dropped his cotton candy up in the sky.
It was all beautiful. Like how he had always imagined heaven to look like. New Anchorage blew anywhere back on Earth right out of the water, hands down. At first, he hadn't really understood why they were going to all this trouble to defend one of their colonies – Wouldn't it have made more sense to protect Earth instead, where they were finally starting to rebuild? But after seeing this place in all of its majesty – All rolling hills, thick forests, green mountains, clear rivers, and enough cropland to feed a million people, he could see why. This place…It was worth protecting. And that was why they were there.
Right now they were in the middle of a grassy savannah, with a few oases of trees and small ponds all around them. Dense woodlands and mountains were to the west, dominating the skyline as the savannah gave way to hills at higher elevations. The landscaped sloped further down as it went Eastward, with a river flowing into the plains that housed the first and largest colony on the planet, Dawn's Landing.
The Landing was the site where the ECIS Dawn had originally disembarked from her long voyage to previously barren but still habitable planet, claiming it for the ECI and christening it New Anchorage after the old battle stories from the Great War. They reconstructed their vault from the modular colony ship they arrived on, deep underground while they waited for the G.E.C.K.s to do their work. Months went by, and then years. The underground colony expanded, going further up as the years went on. Eventually, they reached the surface, just in time to inherit this paradise in the making even as more colonies developed all across the planet. Gradually, over the course of many years, the place had been transformed from a barely habitable rocky tundra into a proverbial Garden of Eden. The Landing was now a moderately sprawling township aboveground with its own shopping centers, sports arenas, restaurants, and other industries, along with its very own Space Port.
To the casual observer, it appeared to be a relatively small city, about the size of New Reno back home. But its true size was not discerned so easily. In truth, it was about five times larger than it appeared above ground, with the Old Vault underneath the city still very much a bustling and functional city in its own right. It had all of the amenities of the overground Landing, as well as power reactors, water extractors, hydroponic farms (although these were being phased out, from what he understood), and factories, not to mention the countless number of apartment blocks necessitated by the growing population. And this was only one such colony on the entire planet, of about fifty more or less equidistant and evenly spaced endeavors to maximize total terraformation of the planet.
"You impressed too, huh Sarge?" A voice behind him asked, snapping him out of his sightseeing and back to reality.
It was Patrick Walls, or Wally, as he preferred to be called. He stood at 5'9", not exactly towering over anyone but still at a respectable height. He was a black, with small dark eyes and short-cut dark hair. He was the squad's Point Man, and his standard-issue matte green Reinforced Combat Armor was marred by dozens of scratches and pock-marks to show for it. His eyes, like everyone else's, were invisible behind the automatically polarizing transition shades built into his helmet, although the toothy grin he was flashing at Zack revealed how seriously he took the situation.
"I guess so, Wally." Zack admitted, still staring up at those mountains. All the mountains back home were craggy and jagged, made only of sand and dead rock. He had never seen a green mountain before. The sight was almost alien.
They were on patrol at the moment and the entire squad trailed after them as they made their rounds. It was a five man squad in total. Zack himself was the squad leader. He was younger than most sergeants in the ECI's military arm, his fair skin still untouched by wrinkles from age or trauma. He had flint black hair that he kept close cut, and his blue eyes matched the color of the sky overhead. As the Sergeant and leader of his squad, he wore the pale beige and technologically superior Mark II variant of the ubiquitous Reinforced Combat Armor issued to all ECI troops. It had a handful of unique systems and tools that weren't implemented in the more common Mark I, as well as greatly increased performance against ballistic and energy weapons.
For the duration of their post here on New Anchorage, each and every ECI Trooper had been outfitted with additional weapons in anticipation of the alien threat. Wally and the rest of Zack's squad had each been issued a good quality Laser R.C.W., or Laser Assualt Rifles as the men had taken to calling them. They chewed through ammo a lot faster than the typical Mass Effect-based Rifle or SMG, but more than made up for it in power and pure intimidation value. Energy weapons had become a rare sight after the government confiscated the majority of them; these days, only Special Forces were allowed to carry them as a matter of course. Zack and his squad would use them for their assignment here, yes, but it had been made very clear to them that these were loaners, not keepers. Any of them that were damaged or "lost" would seriously affect their prospects for advancement and possibly even result in a court martial.
Their standard issue Decimator PDW (Simply a Pre-War 12.7mm pistol rechambered and modified to make use of modern ballistics technology made possible by the proliferation of Mass Effect Fields) was relegated to backup-weapon status, along with their usual Kestrels (Again, simply a 5.56mm Pistol Pre-War design adapted to modern standards.)
Zack, on the other hand, had been issued a refurbished Plasma Defender. As an officer, he wasn't expected to be the point man, even at the squad level. So he'd been given a Defender. It was a pistol scale weapon, yes, but it also packed one hell of a punch; even thick armor wouldn't be able to stop a shot on full charge.
Right now they were out on patrol, just like numerous other squads. The brass were running a tight ship, maintaining constant patrols along the colony's perimeter. Everyone upstairs had been on edge for the past week, although Zack wasn't actually high enough on the chain of command to know that. But it was like there was something in the air. An almost tangible tension had fallen on Dawn's Landing over the past few days, although you'd never think it to look at the place.
"Yeah. Ain't never seen anywhere like this place back home. All sand and desert. But look at this fucking place! Almost makes me want to settle down, y'know? Start a family and all that picket fence shit." Wally continued as they carried on with their patrol, foul mouthed as ever. Zack winced at the mention of settling down with a family, as it reminded him of his own predicament with the Major.
"Alright, enough chatter." Zack admonished mutedly, returning his focus to the skies above. He wanted to drop this, and they had a job to do. That's where everyone said they'd be coming from – the skies. Whether they came down in shuttles or just para-dropped in was up in the air. All they knew was that they'd be coming from up.
"Aw, c'mon Sarge. Lighten up a little. I mean…Look around you! This place is practically a vacation compared to the usual shit assignments they give us." Nikki said.
Nikki was another one of his squadmates. She was as tough as any man in the ECI, and meaner than more than a few. She had a short temper and tended to get into trouble a lot, but her ferocity on the battlefield made her a formidable ally. Zack didn't know much about her, honestly, but her skills spoke for themselves. He had personally seen her gouge the eyes out of a rogue NCR Yao Guai a couple of years back with that Ripper she carried around.
She would've been a pretty young woman if it wasn't for her outlandish choices in grooming and accessories (And general personality, which gave Zack and others the creeps more often than not). Aside from her tattoos (of which there were many), she sported a blood-red dyed Mohawk in a tall ridge over otherwise short black hair. Her eyes were sapphire blue and striking, nicely complimenting either color of her hair. She also had numerous piercings in all of the usual places, and probably a few Zack didn't even know about. All in all, she looked and acted like a teenage girl with an unhealthy fascination with violence, and he honestly didn't have any facts to say that wasn't an accurate description. Honestly, the only reason he or anyone else tolerated her was because of her unquestionable skills on the battlefield. In the time she'd been in his squad, she'd racked up more kills with both firearms and melee weapons than either him or Wally combined, and received remarkably few injuries given her reckless attitude. Most of the others thought it was all dumb luck given her personality, but Zack wasn't so sure.
So taking all that into account, he was quite surprised by her comment about their surroundings. "Oh?" He asked. "I didn't think you of all people would like a place like this." He let the implication about her tastes go unsaid. Honestly, the she seemed like the sort of woman who would be more at home back in the Mojave than a paradise like this.
She shrugged in response. "Eh. Just because I like to kill things doesn't mean I don't like to have a nice atmosphere to do it in. Besides, from what we've been hearing, it sounds like we should enjoy this place while we still can."
Zack frowned at her words as they kept walking and fell into silence. She was right, of course – The planet may look nice now, but it would probably be a warzone any day now. All of these pretty trees and plants could be cinder by next week if it the aliens chose to attack the landing or managed to obtain space superiority to effect orbital bombardment. It would be a travesty, an atrocity – But these were aliens they were talking about. They were like foreigners from outer space, but not even human. Worse, their brutality spoke for themselves. The innocent and unarmed crew of the ECIS Patterson could've attested to that, had any of them survived.
Next down the line was Lee Jenkins. Jenkins was a tall, heavyset man with a sandy blond buzz cut and light hazel eyes. He was a vault kid, from what Zack understood. Signed up with the ECI after his Vault was opened back on Earth. Travel to distant planets, meet aliens, kill 'em, all that jazz. He was a well-meaning sort, if a bit thick headed and naïve at times. he kept his silence as ordered, obeying the rules as he always did. His size actually made him well-suited to being the squad's heavy weapons 'expert', which meant that he always got stuck carrying the Missile Launcher.
Finally was the last member of their squad, the rearguard, Randolph. Randolph had dark brown hair, green eyes, and tan olive skin. Rand' wasn't exactly what you would call the sharpest tool in the shed; Big fella, and tough as nails, but not a lot going on between the ears. Word had it that he got hit with a baseball slugger a little too hard during a confrontation with some Raiders back in the militia, and he hadn't really been the same since. He could still follow orders well enough, though, and he could still fire his guns, eat, and clean up after himself. He just didn't talk all that much anymore, which suited Zack just fine.
They proceeded like that for a while, each one of them taking in the sights. You wouldn't find anywhere like this back on Earth, and New Anchorage was considered a marvel even by colonial standards. They slogged through the tall thicket of grass on their predetermined patrol loop, and they'd be at it for the rest of the day until the end of their shift.
"Sarge…" Wally called out again. Zack let out an exasperated sigh. He was usually pretty laid-back for a NCO, but he would have to have a talk with Wally later about proper military protocol. They were on a mission, damn it, they didn't have the luxury of idle chatter. He resolved to simply ignore it for now, chalking it up to the excitement of their new post.
"Hey Sarge…Sergeant!" Wally repeated, more urgently this time.
"What?!" Asked Zack, louder than he intended and getting everyone's attention. He set his gaze on Wally, but the man wasn't looking at him. He was looking off into the distance towards the west, up above the mountains.
"What the fuck is that shit?!" Nikki shouted, although Zack was no longer listening
Way off in the distance, just barely discernable in the wild blue yonder, was the unmistakable form of a spaceship, clearly defined against the midday sky.
Gigantic. That was the only word to describe it. Even from here, he could see that. The ship was obviously in high orbit above the planet, but even then it seemed gargantuan.
It was shaped like a hollow, horizontal ovoid, with elegant curves that swooped out into four prongs on the top, left, right, and bottom of the ship, giving a cross-like shape. It had smooth metal armor criss-crossed by bright, glowing lines with obvious lights and windows. The hollow interior crevice inside the ship glowed with an eerie, ethereal blue aura. It was almost…supernatural looking.
They stood there for a moment, weapons not even drawn, just standing there gawking up at it. It wasn't just floating up there, though…the thing was steadily growing larger and larger in the sky as it entered an approach vector with the planetary capitol.
"Fuck!" Zach swore, whipping out his Defender and activating his Holocomm with his free hand. "Attention All units, all units! Bogey spotted at 10'o'clock west! Up in the sky, I repeat, bogey has been spotted…" He stopped when he realized all he was getting was static. There was no response, either from HQ or any of the other squads.
"God damn it, they're jamming our communications!" He shouted back to his squad, who were all squarely in high alert mode. Even Nikki had her face set in grim resolve, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of the enemy.
"We're sittin' ducks out here, Sarge! We need to head back and regroup, ASAP." Wally suggested, looking nervous. Zack couldn't blame the man; Even he was daunted by that…that thing in sky.
"Affirmative! We are heading back to base. Squad! Full 180 and fall back! Fall back!" He yelled, shouting over the wind and ordering a tactical withdrawal.
So they ran. They were about five miles uphill from the town, but the ship was dropping in from the other direction. Zack had no idea how long it would take the alien ark to touch down or drop whatever invasion force they had prepared, but he wasn't sticking around to find out. Their squad's patrol arc was somewhat isolated from the rest, being up in the hills; most of the defenses were concentrated near the Landing itself.
It wasn't long before the aliens made their opening salvo. At first, the empty hollow within the ship up in sky seemed to glow an even more intense shade of blue, silent and inaudible from within the planet's atmosphere. It spent one or two seconds glowing brighter and brighter, and for a moment Zack almost thought that it would explode. No such luck.
It was terrifying in its suddenness and power. One minute, the cross-ship was lit up like a second sun, actually managing to color the western skies cobalt blue. Then, boom.
It was as if a perfectly straight, blinding lightning bolt had shot out from the center of the cross ship, zooming over the colony and impacting the plains behind it. It was perfectly silent for about two seconds, before the broken sound barrier caught up to them as the shockwave reverberated out from the point of impact. It was like thunder, but worse. It shook the ground violently, and Rand lost his footing behind them before Jenkins caught him and helped him up.
They were running in that direction, towards the colony, so they had a clear view of the wide plains just east of it where the alien weapon had struck. It was like…like something out of a nightmare. There had been enormous, rolling grassland like nothing on Earth just this morning. It had been filled with Hares, grazing cows, and poultry cloned and bred specifically for livestock, like every species on this planet. Now…now there was crater the size of a football stadium, and deeper than a mine shaft. Smoke seemed to billow out from it like a floodwater pouring out from a burst levy. It blackened the eastern sky, even as the plains underneath it caught on fire in a neat circle around the crater.
"…No…" he whispered, reaching out in the direction of the colony impotently. It wasn't fair. This place…It had been so beautiful just a few minutes ago. It had been a testament to their people's recovery from their violent history to build a better future. It was a new beginning for everyone, both here and for future generations on earth. And these aliens had just demonstrated that they had the ability to take it all away in the blink of an eye. "God damn it….Damn it!" he roared, bringing his Defender to bear even as they ran at full sprint down the hill towards the relative safety of the colony. The aliens seemed to want it intact, at least – otherwise why send a warning shot like that? If they were going to make a stand, it'd have to be there.
He squeezed the trigger as he felt the weapon warm up in his grip, the deceptively heavy pistol almost seeming to writhe with power from the high-yield energy capacitors within. Bright, neon-green plasma lanced out from the gun, it's trajectory aimed at the approximate area of the alien cross-ship. He had no illusions that small arms fire would be able to do any real damage at this distance, but he needed to do something. Anything was better than just running away, letting these aliens do whatever they wanted to their colony without even putting up a fight.
A wave of hot air blasted back from the gun as Zack depleted the capacitor's from his weapon, and he picked out a new one from his belt to slam into the gun's socket. The superheated plasma ionized the air behind it, looking like a sluggish, lethargic tracer shell as it climbed up into the air to the alien ship before disappearing into the distance.
He kept at it as they ran, not caring about wasting ammo ; the energy cells were easy to make, and were used for pretty much everything out in the colonies. There must've been thousands upon thousands of the things already on New Anchorage that had been produced for industrial or domestic use, let alone the military-grade cells they'd brought along with them. They were good on that front, at least, as Zack must've had at least a dozen of the things stowed on his belt. The others had similar set-ups with their even smaller Electron Charge Packs, although those were fewer in number on-planet.
At first, his bursts of fire were alone. They shot through the air and up into the jaws of that alien ship, looking pathetic and diminutive all by themselves. But that changed when he was joined by his squad. Wally, Nikki, Jenkins, and even Rand all turned around and opened fire with him, silently voicing their support and their resolve to stand and fight with him against these alien scum. They were all still running on their mad dash towards the city, but they kept firing. Their LARs blasted away in a staccato chorus, dispensing what must've been thousands of kilowatts into the air.
That was just them, though. They wouldn't put a dent in the alien ship on their own. But they were not alone. Not ten seconds after the whole squad began concentrating fire onto the alien ship, they were joined by another stream of green lasers from somewhere downhill. Then another, and another, from around and even inside the city itself. Their comrades joined them in their show of defiance. The aliens had tried to intimidate them with their show of aggression and force. Now, they were showing the aliens that humanity would not be cowed so easily.
A veritable cascade of lasers opened fire as hundreds of electron charge packs were emptied into the ship. Even when Zack decided he had spent enough ammo for the moment, the shots kept up, if not from his squad, then from the others all around the city. Zack grinned in dark triumph.
The aliens tried to intimidate them with their little light show, and they got their answer in the form of one of their own. He didn't know if it was just his imagination or not, but Zack felt like he could almost see the alien ship back off just a tiny bit.
Zack and his team hiked all the way back down to Dawn's Landing in just under two hours. After reaching the outer limits of the city, they found the perimeter of the ECI fortifications and joined up with a larger platoon. Their communications were still down, so orders had to be relayed through word of mouth or written orders. Right then, they had merged with ten other squads for a total of about fifty men. They were all under the command of First Lieutenant Christopher Biggs.
Biggs was a short man, at about 5'3", and was very sensitive about his height, if the rumors were to be believed. He was old for a Trooper, at fifty-one years old. Normally, Troopers served in installments of five years, volunteering for additional tours for exponential rewards or a shot at promotion. Biggs was on his fourth tour, and had essentially been with the ECI since shortly after its founding. The fact that he was still only a first lieutenant was a point of contention between the man and the rest of the brass, although if you were under his command you quickly learned better than to ask about it.
Zack and his squad had been one of the last to make it to the perimeter before Biggs decided to set off to one of the Vault entrances down town. That left them towards the back of the column as they advanced, keeping their eyes peeled towards the sky for any sign of the alien bogey coming back. It had drifted up and out of the atmosphere shortly after it fired the original warning shot, but that didn't mean they were out of the water yet. The aliens were up to something.
"Yo Sarge, what did you think of that thing, huh?" Asked Wally, who had joined Rand at the back of the line to bolster the rearguard. They might be on home territory, but an ambush was still a very real possibility depending on how subtly the aliens could insert their troops. For all they knew, this city was crawling with dirty aliens even as they led them right to the underground.
"It was bigger than anything I've ever seen the fleet put together." Zack admitted, with a haunted look across his face. He tried his best to keep watch on the sky, but he was almost afraid of what he'd see next. "The Dirigible is what? Two hundred meters across? One hundred wide? That thing could've been twice, or even three times that. Don't even get me started on the Falcon or the Ticonderoga." The last two were the transports used to bring over their 'Reinforcements' (Such as they were) from Earth.
"Yeah…Yeah, you got that right, sarge." Wally agreed. "Man…thing was fuckin' huge. The size of one of them…one of them whatchamacallits. Skygraspers?"
"Skyscrapers." Zack corrected him, although he could hardly blame the man. Wally was a first generation colony kid – Only set foot on Earth after enlisting in the ECI for basic training. Any skyscrapers left were old, dilapidated, and probably falling apart. There probably wouldn't be anyone alive who remembered them in their original form in a few decades, besides Mr. House and some ghouls.
All around them were guys from all over the Frontier. The matte green and beige drab of their armor formed a sea of neutral coloration around them in a loosely packed column as they slogged through the abandoned streets to reach their destination. They weaved around stopped or abandoned cars, overturned lift-buggies, or any other obstruction that got in their way. They weren't in lockstep or anything, and everyone sort of naturally congregated in small groups even as they were ostensibly kept watch on their surroundings.
They spoke quietly for a while about their suspicions and musings on the alien ship, occasionally citing old Sci-Fi Holotapes and some of the few comic books that survived the Great War. Such things were all they had left of their culture; Most of the literature and art wasn't rated against a thermonuclear detonation like the specially treated polymer that comprised the comics was.
It wasn't long, though, before events conspired to put an end to their discussion, as reality reasserted itself on their fantastic musings on the possible origins or motivations of this unknown alien species.
It started with a high-pitched, continuous whine. Like a screecher firework going off on a Victory Day parade… And they were coming from the sky. Thousands of them.
They were…boxy, was the word. Each was like a small, rectangular prism about the size of a long, low-to-the-ground tank. The difference was that each of the flying tank…pod…things, had coaxial wing-like stabilizers on the side with obvious thrusters towards the back. Even more noticeable was that each was clear well-armed, with thin yet protruding rotary cannons mounted under what Zack assumed to be the canopy of the vehicle.
Each was dropping in from orbit, past the clouds and still billowing smoke from the massive crater outside of town. They were like a swarm of killer insects, spurred into action by their metaphorical kicking of the hornet's nest that had been the alien ark they'd seen earlier.
Each of the Tank Pods seemed to disperse out to a different part of the colony as they descended – And all Zack and the rest of the platoon could do was look on helplessly. Where the hell were the Vertibirds? Without any close-air support, they'd be sitting ducks out here.
His thought, as if on cue, was interrupted by the sound of gunfire and shattering asphalt as a hail of projectiles rained down onto the street.
"Hit the dirt!" He shouted, running on instinct. He dashed over to the side of the nearest building as quickly as he could, hoping to block the attack angle of whatever had fired on them. Some of the other's either had similar ideas or were just following his lead, Because Wally, Nikki, Jenkins, and Rand all joined him hugging the warm concrete of the wall even as half a dozen good men went down in the streets.
"Fuck!" He heard Nikki exclaim to his left, even as he and Wally brought their weapons to bear. Her LAR was already drawn and aiming near the corner, to the right, looking down the sights. Everything was happening so fast – Zack didn't know how she knew where the fire was coming from, but he had learned to trust his instincts. He took out his Defender again, feeling the weapon warm up as he switched the Energy Cell's capacitors to maximum output.
"Weapons hot!" He barked to anyone who would listen, hoping their discipline and training would kick in. He was right to do so, as he saw everyone around find cover near the buildings, in an alley they'd passed, behind cars, or any other spot they could find that was less exposed in the middle of the street. The six corpses looked lonely then, laying in pools of their own blood.
Slowly, almost gently, their assailants cruised up above them. Three Tank Pods glided in from the right, each taking a position slightly above the nearby buildings that overlooked the streets. Their coaxial thruster wings shifted downward even as the box-canopy itself was kept steady and parallel to the ground. Almost like a Vertibird's VTOL system, the Tank Pods' thrusters gradually lessened in lift, lowering the Pod's steadily even as the cannons kept up their suppressive fire on the street.
Their gunshots rang out and zipped through the air and down onto their broken column. From this angle, the cannons couldn't target them very accurately as long as they remained in cover, but the near-constant stream of bullets kept them pinned down. The Pods fired in alternating intervals of rapid three-round bursts, always having at least one of them keeping them all suppressed. They could take a few potshots at them from behind cover if they timed it just right, but eve the lucky hits only warped the armor where they hit, without penetrating the Tank Pod's box-like canopy. Worse, a few who'd tried it got clipped by the return fire and would need to be dragged or carried away, assuming they survived this.
The standoff didn't last long, though, as the true purpose of the Tank Pods became clear. The back-half of all three of the Tank Pod's visibly depressurized as some kind of pneumatic gas rapidly evacuated the vehicle's interior as bulkhead doors on their sides lifted up.
At least a dozen aliens apiece poured out from inside their Tank Pods. Everyone had been briefed, and they'd seen the recordings, of course. But seeing something on a Holoscreen in a dimly lit briefing room was a far cry from the real thing. They were tall, lithe creatures, covered from head to toe in formfitting armor of various colors. Their legs were double-jointed, and each of them carried an angular, severe-looking combat rifle.
Almost immediately upon disembarking from their Tank Pods, the alien infantry opened fire on the ECI positions in and around the streets. Zack and his squad had been forced to quickly dive for cover behind a sturdy truck that was quickly riddling with bulletholes, and their comrades were dropping everywhere. They needed to think of something, and fast.
Nikki, apparently sharing the sentiment, darted her head from left to right, like she was looking for something. It seemed she found it as she started digging into the utility belt of an unfortunate corporal who'd fallen behind them, with half of his exposed face missing.
"Aha!" She shouted as she found what she was looking for, letting a sinister, predatory grin slide over her face. In her hands was a small, partially spherical cylinder, with capacitor-electrodes sticking out around the top and bottom. They glowed bright green against the gunmetal frame of the device, which every one of them recognized.
"Bombs away you little green motherfuckers!" She shouted at the top of her lungs grinning like a madwoman. Impressively, her voice managing to overcome the roaring guns all around them quite easily. With an arm any Pre-War baseball pitcher would envy, the plasma grenade sailed through the air as smooth as silk, arching at an apex slightly above the nearest building. Zack hazarded a peak over cover with the top of his helmeted head, having the camera on the side of his helmet zoom in, track the grenade, and forward the holofeed to the inside of his visor next to the HUD.
The small camera followed the little package of death all the way down its trajectory course…straight into the waiting, open interior of the nearest Tank Pod that had just dropped off its payload of alien troops.
It was over in an instant, but that one, singular moment seemed to happen in slow motion. His mind just barely managed to process what had just occurred before a blinding green conflagration seared across the rooftop. The resounding, crackling boom that followed the explosive ionization of the high-density plasma packed into the grenade was compounded by the almost lightning-like tell-tale sound of flash-vaporizing flesh and metal.
The Tank Pod on the roof seemed to have simply ceased to exist – It was a phenomenon Zack was familiar with. Sometimes, if you calibrated it just right, a Plasma Grenade would trigger a chain reaction in the matter it came into contact with would be completely vaporized and then rapidly precipitated into a pile of hot, radioactive goop in less time than it took for a regular plasma gunfire to close a the distance.
The alien soldiers who'd taken cover behind the slightly raised edges of the roofs had made a grievous error; Their close proximity to the ship ensured that they had been caught in the blast. Previously, where there had once been a full dozen alien invaders were twelve highly toxic and radioactive puddles of neon-green slime.
Frozen in momentary shock, the remaining aliens hesitated a moment from their perches on the high-ground, stopping to regard their seemingly vanished companions just long enough for Zack to shoot off an order.
"Everyone, return fire! Grenades out! Open fire, open fire!" He shouted as loudly as he could manage, feeling his throat start to strain from the effort.
His words were not in vain though, as no less than seven more plasma grenades were lobbed into the air by a few of the troops. A few of them shot wide and landed behind the Tank Pods, vaporizing part of the roof in another pseudo-ionized explosion. One landed a little further down the street, missing its target completely. But three of them hit their marks, one flying into the interior of the Pod on the right and the other two slamming against the armored hull on the left.
The results were predictable and disastrous (at least for the aliens); the last two Tank Pods were both completely wrecked in the ensuing explosions. None of the grenades had been calibrated to the near-perfection of the one Nikki had scavenged from their dead compatriot, but they both managed to rupture whatever the Tank Pods used for a power supply, making them both explode in a fiery detonation.
The aliens that had been far enough not to be caught in the blasts attempted to seek cover as soon as they regained their bearings, but most were cut down by the now full-auto firing LARs that zapped out all around them. The firefight was swift and deadly, as the ECI issue armor easily protected their core from most of the small arms these aliens used; It seemed that vehicle weapons were their main advantage. With that lost, the few ECI Troopers left made quick work of the alien agressors who survived the blasts.
Finally, it was over. Where once there had been an endless, constant downpour of rapidly firing lasers and bullets, there was only the now-ubiquitous background noise of more bombs and guns going off all around the city; You could probably hear the destruction from miles away if you listened hard enough.
Zack took further stock of their surroundings. Death. Death everwhere, and the ruins of a once new and pristine city, untainted by war. Now there was only rubble from collapsed concrete bricks and sheet metal riddled with countless bullet holes. The cars around them had been totally ruined; He doubted that any of these gunned-out shells would ever function again. Of course, that might not necessarily be a bad thing given that the thngs ran on energy cells. He took a moment to restock his own supply for his Defender by raiding the cell from the truck they'd hidden behind while the rest of the platoon regrouped.
He was interrupted soon after that, however, when Jenkins called over to him. "Sergeant! I think you should come take a look at this…" He yelled from across the street. He and several of the other troops were gathered around something, so Zack decided to go over and see what was going on.
"Report, soldier." He ordered briskly. Now wasn't the time for laid back, easygoing Sergeant Zack. If they wanted to get to the safety of the vault's alive, they all needed to give their 100 percent.
He needn't have asked, as the topic of their fascination soon became apparent when the crowd parted before the NCO, letting him get a clear view on what was on the ground.
It was one of the aliens, still armored for the most part, minus the severed leg that had probably been caught in one of the exploding ships or sliced off by shrapnel. He wasn't bleeding from the stump, which was burned over like an old cigar, so it could've also been one of the LARs that concentrated fire on his knee.
"Is it…?" Zack asked, somewhat hesitantly. Jenkins shook his head.
"It looks like it's still alive; the body's breathing anyways. Maybe it got knocked out from the fall or something." Jenkins shrugged and stepped aside, unintentionally allowing Nikki to come in for a closer look.
They had lost a lot of good men that day, but maybe it wasn't all for nothing. They'd shown that they could beat these aliens – that they were far from the invincible race of super-technologically advanced alien race they'd all feared and whispered of since they first saw the Holotapes of them onboard the Patterson.
But even that paled in comparison to a live alien prisoner. If they could bring him to the Vault under the city, they'd probably be able to meet up with whoever was in charge and find some way to communicate with it, maybe get some kind of edge they could exploit against its buddies. He'd let the techs figure out the details. He knew for sure though that bringing back a live alien specimen ranked pretty high on the list of objectives from command. In the meantime, it'd be up to him and Biggs in he was still even alive to lead these men to safety.
It would've also appeared that Nikki shared Zack's idea, as she unceremoniously hoisted up the now one-legged alien and slung it over her shoulder. "Looks like you're coming home with us…" She cooed in a sweet voice that was not at all soothing.