First Encounters
AN: Don't own any of this, don't make any money. Micro-prose does. Enjoy.
The skyranger-class jet began landing sequence. The terrain was a level arctic plain that provided an ideal landing space, which was probably the target had chosen here to crash after the interceptor Falcon had pulverized it.
Sixteen of the world's finest, selected through the most comprehensive means, prepared to go hunting in the arctic cold. They had no idea of their prey's appearances, numbers, capabilities, or intent. They knew only that they had to find and kill their prey.
The information on the ship itself, as much a target as the aliens, was sketchy. Cross shaped, approximately as large as an interceptor and possessing some kind of high-energy weapons. That was all.
It was rather ridiculous that the hunters should even be here in several regards. First, they were the true prey; Earth was under attack by the aliens, not the other way around. Second the simple insanity of the very nature of their mission would have been enough to make people stare just a few months ago: A small group of professionals working to stop an alien invasion. It was like a bad sci-fi action movie. A modern war was supposed to be fought with nuclear weapons, not with small skirmishes that could be ignored so easily.
However, conventional logic has very little effect on reality. What a few months ago was thought of as a scattered group of crazies stories, spreading only by the media's fanning of the flames, had proven to be a grave threat to human kind's survival. And now the only barrier between the unseen invaders and the human race was a small group of soldiers, technicians, commanders and scientists.
Jason Smith watched As the ramp to the skvranger dropped showing the barren arctic wastes beyond. He was first off, down the ramp and jumping over the side before kissing snow. His parka wasn't enough to keep the harsh chill of the far north off his skin so he lay there perfectly still save the canning of his riffle as he felt his skin freeze.
No movement.
Others had clattered down the ramp and were now searching about for aliens.
Time passed. No contacts.
More time. A scream.
"The bastard got me! Fuck!" came the cry over Jason's radio.
"Its small with a huge head," a German voice said.
Fire in the distance, a scream and then a hoarse cry.
"Nailed the mother fucker." Said the first voice
A Spanish voice was next, "Sir, we found the ship."
A fourth voice now whispered in Jason's ear now whispered in his ear, "We have the ship, storm and investigate."
It was delivered by heavily accented but pleasantly feminine English, he knew who it was.
"Let's go then, Aya."
"It is about thirty meters north."
Aya's English was pretty good but you could still tell she was Japanese. Short but still very attractive Aya was definelty Asian at first glance. She was something of a veteran having served in Japan's counter operations against the invaders for sometime she was definitely the biggest field expert on the aliens in X-com. In other words she had a better idea of how fast the aliens could kill things.
A short while later they come across the craft. It was at the foot of a hill on a shallow flat that was the bank of an unfrozen river. It looked pretty intact, in fact it had no serious damage that Jason could see.
"Take positions," called the sergeant.
The operatives quickly surrounded the entrance and prepared to fire.
"There's a button." said Francis LaRue, a French agent.
"Get away from the door everybody, Private LaRue will press it," repied the sergeant.
No sooner had the button been pressed then the door slid smoothly down and a shot come roaring out.
Jason was the first to react, he fired down where he thought the shot came from and heard the cry of an alien.
"Good work private," said the sergeant. "Move it in there! Pairs o' two"
Jason wound up getting assigned to Aya, since they were standing together.
The operatives slowly searched the ship. Strange computer consoles hung on the walls and other weird looking stuff.
"Science boys are going to throw a party." commented Jason.
Aya, still by his side nodded.
"Merde! Two more!" Francis voice cried.
Shots, screams. Only two screams, thank God.
"They don't want us in here," Aya observed.
"Can't blame 'em for that I guess," retorted Jason.
In the front room (assuming they entered at the back, rear entry someone had joked) they found twin doors into the center chamber and an alien with green gushing out of a broken head.
"Little green men," Jason muttered. "How original."
Several chuckles came from the radio.
"Lets go," said Jason, stepping next to the door and pressing the button.
Aya moved in front of the door to investigate and was promptly shot in the stomach.
"MAN DOWN!" Jason screamed. "FRONT COMPARTMENT!"
Jason fired in a shot, the alien's return nicked his shoulder.
"AARRGGG!!!" cried Jason.
BANG!
Another pistol round went off.
BSHOO!
The alien's weapon sounded, but this time went wide.
BANGBANGBANG!!
BSHOOBSHOOO!!
BANG!!
The alien crumpled.
The door whooshed open. Francis came in.
"MERDE! C'est n'est pas bone!" cried Francis producing a med kit.
The sergeant looked in the room at the alien and with a look of being impressed said, "Two in one day, your gettin' a promotion private."
Then the sergeants hand went to his gun.
"The fag is still breathing."