Chapter 10: Dead on Arrival
Orgun stared absentmindedly at the spring's first flowers. The dandelions were sitting in a vase on the desk next to the rocketeer's bed in the medbay, courtesy of Daishi. Orgun appreciated the pure gesture of friendship, but it couldn't wash away the shame he felt after their last operation. Letting out a deep sigh, the blues-ridden man turned his thoughts to the news they'd received this morning.
An XCOM satellite dispatched over India had caught wind of an alien ship flying in low, clearly trying to avoid detection. The ship, way larger than anything they had previously observed, had landed in the mountains not two hours ago and an emergency response team had been announced. Orgun glanced at the clock hanging above the entrance to the medbay. The ETA was fast approaching, and he wondered whether Frag could make it after all.
As if hearing his thoughts, the door slid open and Frag stepped into the room, decked out in full combat gear, only missing his weapons. Orgun lifted his hand in greeting, and the stoic infantryman made his way over to his bedside.
"How are you?" inquired Frag as he came to a stop at his friend's side.
"Apart from throwing up my organs and the last shreds of my dignity every once in a while? Pretty good", came the attempt at his usual humor from Orgun, but lacking that merry edge. Instead, he only sounded depressing.
Frag nodded quietly. "You wanted to see me before I left?"
Pushing himself forwards from the pillows he was resting against, Orgun straightened his back. With a solemn face, he beckoned Frag closer, putting one hand on his friend's shoulder. "Promise me you'll bring them back safely. I learned everything I needed to about my own leadership qualities in Brazil but you, you are something else. I know you can do this. Bring them all safely home, you hear me?" Orgun's voice was steady, every shred of pretense gone from his face.
Meeting the rocketeer's eyes, Frag placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."
And with that, Frag turned away, striding out of the medbay, never looking back. Orgun's eyes followed him out the door before turning back to the flowers on his bedside.
He had no idea it was the last time he would see his friend alive.
The Skyranger bumped up and down heavily as it flew in low across the mountains. The operatives inside held onto the safety frames shackling them into their seats in the rough ride. The dim lights flickered every once in a while, illuminating six beret-clad heads.
Foogleman was determination incarnate, with no other emotions on her face, eyes locked onto a single point on the opposite wall. Drake's shoulders were heaving as she took in quick breaths, releasing them in sharp puffs, psyching herself up for the coming battle. Volatile was staring at the sunglasses in her hands, focused. The black skin of her veritable bull's neck glistened with sweat and her buzz cut hair glowed faintly in the light.
On the other side, Medve was staring into the roof of the transport, taking long drags from his cigar and holding onto his safety frame with one hand. Next to him, Renzol gripped her frame with both hands, knuckles turning white under her gloves. Her breathing was abrupt as she kept her eyes closed.
A hand landed on the small rocketeer's shoulder. Looking up with distraught eyes, she saw the gently smiling face of Frag, full of confidence. The squad leader gave her shoulder a small pat, and Renzol's breathing steadied. Nodding at the man, she turned her gaze to the floor of the Skyranger.
"Brace for landing", came the voice of the pilot through the buzzing and rattling intercom, and the operatives spread their legs and steadied their hold on the safety framing. The aircraft creaked and vibrated as the thrusters brought it ever closer to solid ground. With a flex of its suspension, the Skyranger came to a smooth landing.
Jerking the safety frames off their lockdown, the operatives swung them off of their shoulders. Standing up from their seats, everyone reached for the weapon racks on the walls. With four shotguns on the squad, they definitely wouldn't lack any killing power in what preliminary scans showed to be a close-quarters ship.
Turning to his squad with a determined look, Frag spoke up, "You all know the mission briefing by now. Just follow my lead, and we will all make it out of here." And with that, Frag pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket's pocket.
The squad grinned at him and everyone summoned forth a pair of their own. Taking one last look at everyone's faces, Frag slipped on his sunglasses, everyone in the squad following suit. The Skyranger ramp lowered, and the operatives turned towards the outside world.
"Let's do this", the squad leader proclaimed and strode out into the bright daylight, his band of heroes following in a tight formation behind him.
The squad was pinned inside the cockpit of the troop ship, holding off the massive force of aliens. The assault had turned on its head as five of the incredibly dangerous outsiders had showed up. Now the assaulters had become the assaulted.
The outsiders kept on charging the position desperately held by XCOM, any damage dealt seeming futile as the creatures kept falling back, the crystalline composition of their bodies regenerating the damage dealt. Seekers, mechanical horrors capable of flying and concealing themselves from the naked eye circled the cockpit, looking to latch onto any stragglers in the squad.
"There's no end to this!" shouted Foogleman, sitting outside behind the cockpit with her back to the wall. The scout peeked around the corner, immediately pulling back from the plasma fire.
Renzol was on the opposite corner, watching the squad's right flank. She was out of rockets with only her carbine left, and the weapon was ill-suited for the heavy firefight to say the least. On the doorway between them, Medve was spraying covering fire through the cockpit into the various doorways swarming with enemies. The rest of the squad was inside the room, hunkering behind flight computers and answering enemy fire as best they could, the green power source in the middle of the room casting eerie shapes on the walls.
Volatile was sitting down, propped up against a flight computer on the wall from where the enemy assault was coming from. She was firing her shotgun wildly at the seekers squirming in through the doorways.
Drake stepped out of the main doorway into the plasma fire, blasting the monstrously large outsider trying to make its way in with her shotgun, causing the creature to reconsider its approach. Pulling back inside, a seeker materialized from thin air in front of her, grabbing her with its tentacles. One tendril closed around the assault's throat, leaving her desperately gasping for air. The mechanical creature jerked her towards the doorway, trying to pull her into enemy fire and certain death.
A hail of buckshot struck the creature, and the tendril around Drake's right arm loosened. Her face twisting into a determined grimace, Drake turned her shotgun upwards and blasted the thing's circuits right out of its squid-shaped body. Left hand going to her throat, the assault clambered over a flight computer, taking cover behind it.
"We need to get the hell out of here! Come on, fall back. We'll draw 'em in!" came a shout from Frag as he dropped yet another seeker.
Drake struggled for air, and feeling her windpipe open up, she crawled her way over to Volatile. "Come on, let's go!" the assault urged, leaving her shotgun hanging by its sling and throwing Volatile's arm over her shoulder.
Helping the badly injured trooper up, they started to move through the cockpit, plasma flying through the doorways as their squad struggled to contain the enemy. Frag was crouched behind the furthermost flight computer, brow furrowed in deep concentration above the sunglasses as he kept firing his shotgun at the enemy.
Breaking away from the room, bright daylight swarmed the duo of female troopers. Laying Volatile down against the wall, Drake wiped her brow. Medve pulled back from the doorway, taking out his medkit and tending to Volatile. Frag followed the squad back out of the cockpit, ducking under a hail of plasma from an outsider's carbine.
"Drake! Get over here! We are doing this right now!" came the shout from Foogleman. Not wasting any time, Drake dashed over to the corner where the scout was at.
"I distract them, you go in for the kill. BREAK!"
Jumping out into the fray, the dauntless scout dodged a plasma barrage, then another. Taking cover behind a low ridge emanating from the surface of the bizarre ship, the scout fired her shotgun. Drake turned the corner, going in hard. What she saw was a terrifying sight. Two outsiders were firing their plasma carbines at the scout from the other end of the small building that served as the cockpit of the ship. And right next to her, she saw the huge outsider. The thing stood taller than Medve, and radiated pure energy.
Screaming wildly, Drake charged the enemy leader. A hail of buckshot hit the thing where a human's stomach would be, causing the crystal inside to vibrate as the thing doubled over. Drake pumped her shotgun. The creature looked up, lifting its plasma rifle towards Drake.
Using her shotgun as a baton, Drake slammed on the outsider's weapon, causing the plasma barrage to strike the ground below them. Giving the creature another violent strike with the butt of her weapon, she crashed the alien against the wall. Drake didn't have time to think about the other outsiders. All she could do was trust in Foogleman.
In a display of sheer strength and willpower, the assault brought her leg in hard, sweeping the outsider's legs from under it, crashing it to the ground and pinning it against the wall. Drake brought her shotgun around. From point-blank range, she crammed the muzzle of the gun into the creature's head and pulled the trigger. A massive spray of dust erupted around her as the alien was finally defeated. Covering her eyes from the cloud, Drake stumbled backwards, wheeling around the corner. Without a moment's delay, Foogleman was next to her, tumbling acrobatically across the gap between the ridge and the wall.
On the middle door, Medve was stuck in a firefight with two sectoids that had pushed up into the cockpit. "More coming down that side!" came a shout from the big gunner.
Lifting her sunglasses and wiping the dust from her eyes, Drake watched as Frag ran past her to take the corner, Foogleman dashing out into the fray once more. The duo fired their shotguns in unison, and another outsider fell. Cheating death yet again, the scout dashed through flying plasma in her trademark fashion, hitting the wall next to Drake.
Foogleman panted hard, lifting her sunglasses and looking at Drake. Her face was lit up, with sweat running down her brow, mouth frozen into a perpetual grin, eyes on fire. She gave a little laugh and shouted, "We're going to do this! We're gonna fucking DO THIS!"
Dropping her sunglasses back on her nose, Foogleman pounced onto the doorway to help Medve with the sectoids. Firing her shotgun, the scout shouted wildly as one of the grays behind the flight computer dropped into the ground. Sprinting across the doorway, Drake joined the fight as Medve vacated his spot to reload. She fired away, and another sectoid fell, the assault joining her friend in a wild battle cry as only one outsider remained. Drake looked up towards Frag, ready to shout for covering fire as she got ready to move in through the cockpit.
Then the world stopped. A hail of green energy blasted from behind the corner, sending Frag flying through the air. From behind her sunglasses, Drake saw the world tinted a brownish hue. A stream of dark droplets glistened in the sunlight, suspended in the air. Almost elegantly, Frag's body turned around in the air, the sunglasses coming off and the stream of mysterious glowing droplets, almost like dark pearls, extended along with his flight.
His face coming to view now, Drake was expecting the confident, charismatic man to smile and tell her a job well done. Instead, she was greeted by a torn artery in his neck, sending a stream of dark pearls into the afternoon air. With widening eyes, Drake followed her friend's flight to the ground.
"…no…" came the weak denial from the assault's lips.
Looking up, she saw Foogleman running towards Frag, rounding the corner. From behind her, she felt a push as she was sent stumbling across the doorway, followed by the loud chatter of Medve's machine gun. Walking towards Frag, Drake couldn't take her eyes off the sight. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead. This was Frag after all, the most dependable man she had ever known. Falling to her knees, she reached over and touched the horrific wound in his neck.
"Blood", Drake whispered. "It was blood."