Richard Lee
Starcraft
- The Dark
It was dark.
As the T-14 Infantry
Interstellar Transport Vessel (ITV for short) journeyed across deep space, Private
John Miller of the Terran Confederacy stared out a window thoughtfully. Space was
beautiful. It was a black canvas painted with brilliant nebulas and shining stars.
It wasn't too different from Miller's home world, Dylar IV - a planet in which 80%
was covered in water. The seas glistened like stars and seemed as endless as space.
But the sea had a dark side - it brought fatal dangers - storms, gigantic aquatic
creatures... Miller knew that space was no different from the sea.
"Aw, man…"
John shifted uncomfortably in his CMC - 300 Powered Combat Suit. He had an
itch. When he was little, he saw a soldier in the city. The soldier looked so proud
and defiant in his glistening combat suit. It covered the soldier's body with inch-thick
ceramic compound plates to repel lethality in all its forms. The suit of armor was
topped with a helmet with the bright insignia of the Terran Confederacy. Now here
Miller was, inside one of the suits that he once longed to be in. It was uncomfortable
and noisy - with every move, the suit's hydraulics activated to allow movement within
Miller's five hundred pound exoskeleton. His mother told him to join the Navy -
explore the depths of space aboard the massive (and safe) Confederate Battlecruisers.
But no, Miller just had be an infantry trooper - just like his nameless role
model.
"All right wormlings, at-ten-tion!" Screamed Sergeant Nichols as he
entered the deployment bay.
Miller stood without barely thought - it came second nature from his three
years in this military. The rest of the squad followed. "Sir, yes sir!" they said
in concert.
"I just
got a new message from Confederate Command. We were supposed to go to planet
Draconis V to waste some pansy rebels. However, those science-weenies
at Starbase 012 have activated their distress beacon as of 0300 standard time," Nichols
spat out a hunk of, what appeared to be standard issue meat rations. "And what a
damn fine coincidence. The star base is right on the way to Draocnis. Guess
which lucky squad gets the privilege to investigate." The sergeant nodded
along with the rest of his squad. "ETA is two hours. Full combat gear. Now!" Miller
was already getting nervous as he cuddled his Gauss Rifle involuntarily.
The 8mm C-14 "Impaler" Gauss Rifle was the standard issue weapon of the Terran
Confederate Marine Core. To Miller, his Gauss Rifle - which he named Betsy - was
his best friend. She saw a great deal combat with Miller and kept enemies away with
her firepower. The C-14 fired over twenty magnetically propelled armor-piercing
spikes of tritanium per second. Miller was only an average shot with his weapon,
but with so many spikes firing off, he didn't need to be accurate. Miller happily
began to clean and reassemble his weapon with gusto.
"How you doin' bro?" New recruit Private Darien said to Miller after a friendly
nudge. "Worried 'bout getting some action?"
"Uh, no way, man." John nervously, "I didn't join the army to not see
action."
"Right. I can't wait to get into some combat, ya' know? After six months
of boot camp, I think I'm ready." Darien got a thought. "Hey man, you've been in
combat before haven't you? What's it like to kill someone?"
It was as if John instantaneously changed into a different person. He was
no longer happily cleaning Betsy, but he had a hard, solemn look to his face that
cloud only been tempered by the heat of battle. He stared deep into the eyes and
soul of Darien.
"To see
a man die is the worst thing you'll ever experience."
And as
fast as the firing rate of his gun, Miller shot back to normal like it never happed.
He slapped a fresh box of ammunition into Betsy. And continued
"But
you'll get used to it, Private. Before you know it, you'll be doing it like zipping
up your pants." Miller said, trying to use the casual tone in his voice to hide his
lying. Darien left him alone after that.
Miller used to be as gun-ho as Darien. That was before he had to watch a
friend get blown into bits by the artillery shell of a Siege Cannon. Weeks after
it happened, Miller swore he could taste explosives and blood in his mouth. After
his friend's fate, Miller decided it was time for a career change. Ever since,
he'd been surviving, one battle after another, until his enlistment term would finally
be up.
As they
journeyed to the starbase, the hours passed quickly for many of the new recruits
but it seemed like days to Miller. He was getting scared although the little reasonable
voice in the back of his head told him otherwise. The incident at Starbase 012 could
have been anything. A false alarm, a power outage... Or maybe an attack,
thought Miller grimly.
Finally,
the ITV shuddered as it slowed down to approach Starbase 012 and John looked out
the window. The base looked like a giant wheel floating in space. Four axels held
the wheel steady while it rotated slowly to create artificial gravity using centrifugal
force. It wasn't the biggest base he'd seen. About three miles in diameter and
was made of an alloy that withstood the radiation, space debris, and other hazards
of space. It looked normal, except... Miller wondered to himself. Lights are
out. What could that mean…?
The ITV
shivered and shook while it entered the artificial gravity of the starbase's hanger
bay. A moment later, the deployment doors came down and the five-man squad, accompanied
by Sergeant Nichols immediately sprinted out to secure the area.
It was
dark.
"How did I get into a mess like this?"
muttered Miller under his breath.
Miller
and the rest of his squad immediately switched on their shoulder-mounted spotlights
to drown the darkness - but what they revealed was chaos. Miller cradled Betsy for
comfort.
The bay
was in complete disarray. Metal crates of supplies lay broken and battered across
the bay Parts of the floor had huge gashes and holes. The Starbase's own space
vessels, also in the bay, weren't space vessels anymore. Now, they were heaps of
shredded metal.
Shredded
metal? Miller thought to himself.
The sergeant
signaled to spread out and search and John did so. He slowly explored around one
of the broken vessels until he came across a dead, human body. He nearly dropped
his weapon.
"Holy
crap… Ser-Sergeant!!" he screamed into the radio within his helmet. "Sergeant
Nichols, come quick!"
Nichols, and the rest of the squad,
gathered around Miller and the body he found.
"What
the fuck happened to him!?" said one of the privates as he gawked at the corpse.
It laid face flat on the cold metallic floor in a pool of blood and innards. The
man - at least it looked like a man - was pierced repeatedly with what could have
been tritanium spikes. Sergeant Nichols rolled the body over onto its back with
his foot to reveal that the man's face was missing… And in this case, it was taken
violently.
"Oh man,"
Private Darien stared at the corpse as the words of Miller started to haunt him.
"Who'd do such a - I mean, Dayammmm. Look at that! The dude's face is gone."
"Whoa, they didn't tell us about this
in boot camp, yo!" said a different private.
"Yeah,"
Nichols said as he nodded in agreement. He'd seen worse. "Private, they let you
learn the hard stuff the hard way. And it looks like we have hostiles. All right,
lock, cock, and get ready to rock. They could still anywhere." A quick chorus of
C-14s being put off their safeties rang out among the squad. "Let's move"
While
the squad started to walk out of the docking bay, Miller knelt down to investigate
the body. The man's "face" was nothing but shattered bone and brain matter and blood
running down it. Maybe someone shot the poor bastard and knifed his face off as
a trophy. John searched the body quickly for any further clue of what had happened
to him. All he found was a necklace with the cross of Jesus - the cross was broken.
Miller quickly caught up to his squad
as they started to enter the base's main corridor.
It was dark.
The metallic
corridor softly reflected the light of the squad's shoulder mounted spotlights.
It was quiet too - all except for the armored boots and hydraulics from the squad's
armor. In a way, it seemed serene. John Miller still couldn't relax. After about
thirty yards of marching, he and the squad stopped at an eight-inch thick tritanium
door with a small window. A squad member grunted.
Starbase
012 was built along the standard Confederate layout. The layout included doors which
dotted the main corridor. These doors were controlled by an emergency computer and
would automatically seal doors in cases of distress - containing hull breaches, isolating
explosions or fires, and (what appeared to be the case) to immobilizing intruders.
Nichols
moved up to the door's window to take a peek at the other side. But he couldn't
see through - the window was opaque with blood.
"Someone has anger management issues."
said Darien as he and the other privates stepped back.
Nichols
inspected the door calmly. "Great. Just eff-en great."
Miller's
didn't like what was going on. This was worse than direct combat - at least then,
he knew what to expect. Not this, though. Someone wanted to play mind games
and he didn't feel like playing. John wanted out - and he could see that the majority
of the squad wanted out as well. So he did something that he considered less fear
provoking than investigating what happened on Starbase 012.
"Uh, S-Sarge,"
said Miller uncertainly. "M-maybe we should book it. I mean, this is crazy." Nichols
turned around and glared at Miller in speechless rage. Miller knew what he was thinking
but continued fearfully. "We could just leave. And we could just say the Rebels
did it."
Darien
backed Miller up. Not out of friendship, but out of fear as well. "Yeah Sarge,
let's get out of here. I didn't sign up for this bull shit." The squad was nodding
in agreement.
Nichols
flushed red. He couldn't believe it. His squad was nothing but a bunch of
pussies! They were scared of a little blood and cold meat. How did they ever get
into his military. Maybe he could shoot one of them as an example… And
could just say the Rebels did it, he thought as he mimicked Miller's whiney voice
in his head. But no, that wouldn't do. Nichols knew better than to get hot headed.
With the
exception of Miller, they were all fresh out of boot camp. All of them were supposedly
prepared for direct combat - but not for the smell of blood and the sensation of
fear. Nichols thought about it… If the intruders - no, they had to be Rebels - if
the Rebels were here, his group of "men" would get themselves killed - along with
their caring and loving sergeant. Nichols had failed missions before but he never
refused doing them. Well, there was a first thing for everything.
At first,
John thought the sergeant was going to beat the life out of him. But Nichol's face
turned from anger to calmness.
Nichols
nodded reluctantly. "Miller, you're right. This crap isn't worth it." He turned
his back to the door. "We'll set a few explosives, blow up the base, and say the
Rebels did it." Nichols bit his lip. He'd have to get a new squad at this. "Lets
move."
Miller
was stunned. He actually listened to him! He'd be getting away from this obvious
death trap. He'd get to hide away in a big, fortified, base at Draconis and Miller
would get to waste away in bunker with Betsy. He grinned to himself proudly - making
sure that the sergeant wasn't looking before he did so. Having a little balls
doesn't hurt, huh? Said a little voice in the back of John's head
He responded
to himself under his breath. "It sure doesn't".
As he
the squad started to head back to the docking bay, the bloodied door made low wail
while it slowly opened. Miller instinctively turned around.
Behind
the door, some...thing… no, things were waiting. Two of them. As
Miller gawked at one of them fearfully, he dropped his gun to the floor. It was
huge and snakelike and towered him and anyone else in the squad. Its' hideous flattened
head had a drooling mouth full of chalk white teeth. The head dropped - almost
in slow motion - to reveal sizeable, bony, spines along its back. Its' hands - if
you could call them hands - were like sickles which protruded from its brown, thick
hide. For a moment, Miller and the creature's eyes met. But only for a moment.
In an
instant, the creature dove into the squad with the other not far behind it. One
of them went right for Private Darien. Before he could take aim with his C-14, he
already found a diamond-hard sickle impaling him through his armor and into his stomach.
The creature finished him off with another slash through the neck - Darien tried
to scream but a sick, blood thick gargling arose from his voice instead. The other
creature knocked two squad members at once down with its tail, thus rendering them
both unconscious. In a blur, the creature dived its head toward one of the downed
privates, through the high-resistant carbon glass helmet visor, and took of his face
with its teeth.
Nichols,
with his military training snapping instantly into his head, aimed his Gauss Rifle
point blank at one of the attacking creatures and let loose burst of tritanium spikes.
The creature let out a shriek that was nearly deafening in the small, metallic corridor.
The metal projectiles ripped the torso of the creature as easily as paper. However,
the spikes performed too well. Tritanium passed right through the creature and into
the Sergeant's unconscious comrade lying on the ground. Although the armor managed
to absorb some of the spikes, it couldn't take them all. Both the alien and the
private coiled in a violent death. Nichols didn't have time to think about what
he'd done until the other creature bit down on his C-14, rendering it useless.
All this
time, Miller just stood there dumbfounded - he didn't even have his gun to clasp.
Everything was happening so fast for him. He couldn't figure out what was going
on. He couldn't figure out what to do. He couldn't figure out anything.
John watched helplessly as Sergeant Nichols got tackled in blur of brown and red.
As Nichols hopelessly tried to fight the creature off, he turned his head thus looking
at John - pleading at John - for help… But Miller just stood there. Frozen
with fear as he watched his sergeant get slaughtered.
The creature,
on top of Nichols, began to tear him blazingly fast but with a surgeon's precision.
It slashed and stabbed rapidly and systematically with its hand-sickles. After twenty
seconds, the creature tired of Nichol's screaming. Finally, it drove its head at
Nichols' and took off part of his full helmet, along with the front half of his head.
Then it
was just Miller and The Creature. It turned his head around and opened its mouth
- pieces of Sergeant Nichols dripping out - as if to intimidate Miller even further.
It knew the last one standing would be easy prey. It would play with its food before
feasting. The Creature coiled its snakelike body and dove.
John saw
it. The Creature pulling back and leaping forth. It happened as if it was in slow
motion. The basic instinct of every living organism popped into John's head like
an epiphany - survive. Miller twisted his body away and The Creature went right
past him, taking off his spotlight instead of the entire arm.
It was dark.
But Private
John Miller of the Terran Confederate Marine Core knew what to do. All his feelings,
emotions, and instincts pooled into one word - Betsy.
This time,
it was Miller who dove - not at the creature, but for his weapon which he dropped
earlier. As he wrapped his hands around his C-14, The Creature jumped on him and
drove both its sickle hands deep into John's back. John screamed. The shattering
of his armor rang in his ears but he could still hear his goal. He threw It off
his back with the force of the suit and his rapidly weakening body. The creature
squirmed to get up and quickly dove back at Miller - its jaws aimed right at the
head. Miller, just as fast, rolled onto his back - Betsy firmly in his hands -
and pulled the trigger.
The creature
was instantly propelled back against the wall as if hit by the force of an explosion.
Betsy kept spewing spikes of death while dozens upon dozens of projectiles tore the
creature into shreds. Miller knew a few seconds worth was more than enough but continued
to hold the trigger down. The sound of his rifle and the death screams of The Creature
slowly became distant. Miller could see nothing but the blinding muzzle flash from
his C-14 Gauss Rifle.
It was bright.
Then
it was dark.