Disclaimer: To quote Manuel; 'I know nothing...'. I also own nothing.
Please R&R.
It may get a tad violent near the end...
&&&&&&
Idaho cowered briefly at the biting winds that buffeted the Carryall he was in. He adjusted his jacket against the sudden cold, and cursed whoever thought of putting a control centre in an arctic land. He looked up at the sullen characters sitting around him. Although they were under his command, they gave off no hint of subordination when they were around him. They were the fabled and feared Sardaukar, the fanatic-troops of the Emperor's personal army.
Their cold and calculating eyes scoured their positions flawlessly, their weapons and armour were utilised perfectly. Each one of them carried a Holtzman shield generator on their belts. Tales of their exploits oft reached legendary proportions, and Idaho had to remind himself that they were still human.
The Carryall's wings flapped noisily, causing Idaho's stomach to lurch. He steadied himself, then looked out the back to the other Carryalls flying into position. He was heading a covert strike into enemy territory. While a major force distracted the Covenant, drawing their troops from the command centre, they would sneak in and transfer control from the centre to the map room, which the remainder of the conscripts secured in his absence.
The ship jerked forward slightly as the turbine engines took over from the 'glide-flying', an indication they had reached their destination. Idaho gripped the handrail and grabbed at his rapier. The Carryall slowed, then stopped, as did the other transports. Idaho could hear over the roar of the turbines that the pilot was asking for orders form Bomoko. He leaned out the door, peering out to see what was in front of the ship.
There was an extremely large cliff-face, only a few metres ahead of them. Idaho groaned and walked over to the door separating the soldiers form the pilots. He knocked once, then opened it. He heard the pilot's request for a definition of the orders.
The radio crackled, and Bomoko's voice came out. "You are to proceed three cycles upspin from here at the same altitude. Do not attempt to go over any obstacle, you will be detected."
"With all due respect, sir, that's impossible. We cannot travel any further without gaining altitude!" The pilot snorted. "Unless, of course you want us to fly straight through this cliff."
"Precisely." Came the reply.
"What?" Idaho and the pilot replied.
"You are to fly through this cliff. There are a system of tunnels present which lead to the desired destination, and this route appears to give the most stealth."
"Well that's very nice, sir, but I can't see any tunnels."
"Hold on." There was a brief crackling sound, then they heard his voice faintly mutter something about controls. There was another crackle, and then his voice came back; "Right, that should do it."
"What should do what?"
"Just wait..." There was a dull, sonorous sound which was audible over the engines. Idaho peered out of the cockpit, and saw, to his amazement, a large portal open in the cliff edge. It must've been twenty-five metres in diameter, and it lead off into some unfathomable catacombs deep within the ring.
"You expect us to fly through that?" The pilot asked. "That's impossible! We'll crash!"
"You will not if you handle the Carryall correctly." Bomoko replied curtly. "Fly through in a queue formation. I shall close the portal behind you when you have all entered, and then I expect you to reach the Command Centre in less then thirty minutes. Bomoko out." The radio cut off.
"Crazy..." the pilot muttered, but he relayed the information to the other Carryalls. He positioned the craft in front of the door.
"Hang on, everyone!" He yelled through the radio. "It's gonna be a tight squeeze!"
Slowly the Carryalls flew ponderously into the cliff edge, their residual wings barley avoiding the tunnel walls. As the last one disappeared into the darkness, the hole in the cliff began to close. There was a grinding stone on stone sound as it shut the subterranean system off from the outside of the ring. The portal disappeared, as if it had never been.
&&&&&&
Bomoko leaned back from the communicator and rubbed his eyes wearily. Already dissent was coming from the Suk doctors over their lack of resources. The Arrakis natives and Guildsmen were starting to suffer from Melange withdrawal. Without an intake soon, they would slip into comas, probably irreversibly. But those weren't foremost on his mind.
"Trooper Byrnes!" He yelled. The man walked up at saluted. "What are the reports form our scouts on the enemy movements?"
"Still the same, sir. Ships, troops and vehicles are moving into position around a five-mile diameter circle, with this frigate as the centre." Bomoko nodded, then dismissed the soldier with a wave.
He sat back. The Covenant were arranging a strike force to annihilate the frigates... He couldn't blame them. If he were in their shoes he'd be doing the same thing, except with a bit more subtlety. For technologically- advanced aliens, they were remarkably uncouth-. He cut that train of thought off. 'You must never expect anything less from your opponents as you would from yourself', he remembered his Mentat training. He must always assume every possibility, despite the first appearances of these creatures.
By the looks of things, they would be ready to attack within three hours. The only thing Bomoko was unsure about was how long they would last. He disliked uncertainties. They were against his training, and besides, they were also too simple. But right now, he had nothing to verify his calculations, so he was left unsure.
He turned and faced the window, seeing in the distance the movement of a large force. He steadied his breathing, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear.
&&&&&&
Idaho jumped out of the Carryall, which was hovering over an artificial edge within the subterranean tunnels honeycombing the ringworld. He scanned the area he was on, one hand over his shield, while the Sardaukar quickly followed his example. With a large roaring sound, the Carryall left the landing zone, leaving the strike force to their uncertain fate.
Idaho cracked his neck, then indicated the troops to follow him. They quickly arranged into a formation which allowed the soldiers to isolate a target as soon as possible. They walked forward cautiously towards the door which lead to their target of the Command Centre.
&&&&&&
Mentat Ingsley looked up at the sound of ornithopters on a flight pattern. He turned back to the tropical sands, and idly traced a small pattern in it. This island was the only major stronghold bar from the frigates, and it was where the Command Centre was going to be relocated.
Ingsley sighed, then held his head in his hands. His own personal review of the data was not promising. He was more pessimistic then the average Mentat, and so was more inclined to consider the worse – or as he would say, accurate – outcomes of his data.
They were fighting against an opponent who outnumbered them, who had better technology than them, who had a better knowledge of the terrain, who had more strongholds occupied... it didn't take a genius to realise that the chances of them succeeding were going to be rather slim.
The squad of trikes went past him on their regular patrol, their heavy multi-barrelled automatic rifles unmanned at the moment, but Ingsley knew that they would occupied soon enough.
&&&&&&
Idaho opened the next door, and shuddered as the sharp winds caused his skin to tighten. He rubbed his hands, then peered out quickly. The opening to the bridge seemed empty so far... he indicated for the Sardaukar to follow him.
The elite troops quickly filed into firing positions, using the large stone block just in front of the door as a blockade. Idaho quickly stuck his head from behind the block and looked down the span of the bridge. Nothing, bar the bolts of green and blue lightning which linked each suspension to the next, moved.
He made a small hand-signal ordering the Sardaukar to wait behind while he moved ahead. He cautiously stepped out from behind the block, drawing his rapier as he did so. Slowly, slowly, he stepped forward. Snow clung to his beard and wispy hair, cooling his face uncomfortably. He checked the bridge again. Nothing. He was about to signal the Sardaukar to follow, when something caught his eye.
It seemed to be, for all the world, a glowing blue sword suspended in mid- air, slowly moving in front of him. Idaho closed his eyes sharply, then opened them, wondering if he was hallucinating. The sword was still there. He began to walk back, when the sword suddenly flung itself up, and a guttural roar seemed to sound from nowhere. Diminutive aliens came into view from behind bulkheads in the bridge, their weapons ready. The sword- vision then flung itself down upon him at an unnerving speed. His hand flicked to his shield, activating it.
The sword flung itself at Idaho with an unimaginable force, and it is at this point which I must draw the reader's attention with a brief scientific fact.
Covenant personal shielding works on an energy-absorption basis, to whit, they will protect the user from harm until a certain amount of exterior energy has impacted against it. At this point, the shield deactivates for a few seconds in order to incorporate the foreign energy into its workings. This form of recycling energy means that a Covenant soldier can have their shield on indefinitely without fear that it will 'run out of power', so to say. Needless to say, if an there is energy in excess of the shield's absorption rate, then the remaining energy will impact against the actual wearer of the shield. This is the reason why plasma swords were so fatal. They exposed the recipient of their strikes with enough energy to cut through several inches of lead without pause.
The Holtzman generator, however, works on a different basis. They work on the Phase One of the suspensor-nullification effect. This means that when the user activates the shield, only objects moving at a slow rate, six to nine centimetres per second, are allowed to move through the shield. Anything else is repelled from the shield at an equal rate at which it impacted against the field. Basically, this means that a shield wearer can easily stand and be shot at for as long as the battery charge allows without getting hurt. Disadvantages are that air can quickly become stale as little new air replaces the old air, and senses are lowered, especially sound.
The result of these differences became apparent to the cloaked Elite when her sword, originally aimed to decapitate the human, broke in two. She paused, staring at the stump of her weapon in disbelief. Idaho, in retaliation turned on the spot, and stabbed forward with his rapier.
The sword went straight through the unshielded Elite. Idaho braced his legs, then raised the squealing creature above his head, blood alternately hitting his face or bouncing off of his shield. With a quick gesture, he flung the alien off of the edge of the bridge, then flicked his sword into the ready position, splattering a line of purple blood on the bridge floor.
There was a brief silence form both the humans and the aliens as they saw the Elite fall to her death. Then the creatures wailed in horror and the humans yelled in victory. 'Killing with the point lacks artistry' Idaho recalled the words of his ancestor, 'but don't let that hold your hand when the opening presents itself'. Idaho deactivated his shield, then joined the Sardaukar in pursuit of the fleeing aliens before they alerted anyone to their presence.
&&&&&&
"Contact!"
The cry startled Bomoko out of his trance, and he quickly turned to the radio which had uttered the report.
"How many?" He barked into the transceiver, clearing his mind of distractions.
"Uh... all of them, I think." Replied the soldier with a frightened tone.
Other reports started to come in. "Look sharp! Enemies coming in!" "On your left!" "God, how many of them are there?!"
He quickly assessed the situation, then turned back to address the soldiers over the radio network. "Men, I must ask you to provide a suitable defence necessary to keep these creatures off of this ship. Until the Command Centre has been transferred to the map room, we need to stay put." He switched the radio off, then turned to Byrnes. "Inform the Suk doctors that we need every patient ready as soon as possible to use weapons." The man nodded, then ran off.
Bomoko chewed his lip, thinking furiously, then turned back to the radio transceiver, sending a signal to the remaining strong-points.
&&&&&&
The sudden crackle of static from the radio startled Ingsley from using the 'Silent Cartographer', as it had now been identified. He reached for the radio, cursing the fact that the device was deep underground. Radio waves did not travel well through earth.
"...I repeat..." came the crackled voice of Bomoko, his worried tone clear even through the static. "We ha-... -tiple conta-... we will hol-... -r as long as w- ... -daho will be tran-... -on, so our Comm-... -here. Until the-... -od have mercy upon us. Bomo-..." The radio died.
Ingsley nodded his head sagely, then turned to the Cartographer, and used it to focus on the sections where the Command Centre of the ring, and where the Command frigate were.
&&&&&&
Idaho grimaced as the squad slowly moved through up to the top of the large pyramid-like structure. At the top was their goal, but their rate of movement was distressingly slow. They did not have the numbers for a full- frontal assault, and so were left to use stealth to move up the structure, killing quietly and quickly.
&&&&&&
A burst of gunfire sounded form the radio, startling Bomoko. He calmed himself down, feeling his heart slow gradually. A victorious laugh emitted from the speakers. "Ha-ha! Got one!"
There was the short, sharp barks of a long-range rifle, first form only one position, then from two, three, four, then all. "For intergalactic aliens, they sure are dumb!" One soldier yelled.
A large explosion sounded mingled with alien cries. There was a yell of victory from the defenders. "This is easy!" "I hear that!" "Watch your left flank, they're-" "I've got 'em..." More gunfire.
First the bullets came in a few single-shot rounds. Then on semi- automatic, then on full auto. "This is like a duck shoot, man!" "Watch those buggers, they're getting close..." "Hey, has anyone got anymore ammo? I'm almost out." "It's getting a bit hot up here..."
A scream. "Shit! They got Arkie!" "Stow that whining, soldier! You've got another arm!" "Suck on this!" The sound of a grenade exploding. A human yell of pain, followed by the sound of someone firing off an entire magazine.
"I said short, controlled bursts!" "Watch out, man!" "Fire in the hold!" "Hey, I'm out of grenades, here-" The voice was cut off by an explosion. "Incoming! Alien bandits dead ahead!" "I got 'em!" Bullets burst from a heavy machine gun. There was another explosion, and the gunfire stopped.
"I said watch that flank, goddammit!" "Sorry sir! There's too ma-" "Shit! Watch out!" "God-damn! Don't these guys ever give up?" Barks from a pistol. "Bullets are my gift to you..." one soldier hissed, probably unaware the radio was on.
Another scream. "Oh God!" Sobbing. "God preserve me!" "Get a medic up here!" The sizzling sound of plasma against flesh. "Fuck... I'm blind, man..." "You're not, okay? You're fine, you've... you've just got blood in your eyes."
"God-DAMN..." One soldier hissed. "Look out! Dropships!" "Nail 'em!" "I can't sir! I've got a squad right on top of me!" The sharp gibberish of alien war-language. The buzzing sound of hot plasma burning through air.
"Ah! It burns!" "On your left! There! There! There!" More firing. "Nail those fuckers...!" The sound of someone reloading. "I've got 'em!" Plasma bursts. "No, I don't!"
"They're planting charges on the main doors!" "Stop them!" bullets thudded into earth and flesh. "Ha-ha! Not so tough now, are w-" the voice was cut off by the sound of burning. There was brief silence, broken by gunfire and incoherent yells, both human and alien.
Gasping. The slow, laboured gasping of a dying person. "Oh God..." "Hold on, man!" "Oh God... God help me! God have mercy on me!" "Shut up! You're going to be fine! Fuck..." the voice quietened. "Medic!" The gasping started to slow. "Don't do this to me, man! Stay in there! Just hold on- damn!" The sound of a rifle mingled with whimpers of horror. "That got 'em! Yeah! That na- Goodall? Goodall? You stil- Damn!"
An explosion rocked the entire ship. "They've breached the doors! Every man for himself!" Gunfire, this time audible with normal hearing. Screams and battle cries. Bomoko closed his eyes, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear over and over as he heard the fighting get closer and closer.
&&&&&&
R&R, please.
It may get a tad violent near the end...
&&&&&&
Idaho cowered briefly at the biting winds that buffeted the Carryall he was in. He adjusted his jacket against the sudden cold, and cursed whoever thought of putting a control centre in an arctic land. He looked up at the sullen characters sitting around him. Although they were under his command, they gave off no hint of subordination when they were around him. They were the fabled and feared Sardaukar, the fanatic-troops of the Emperor's personal army.
Their cold and calculating eyes scoured their positions flawlessly, their weapons and armour were utilised perfectly. Each one of them carried a Holtzman shield generator on their belts. Tales of their exploits oft reached legendary proportions, and Idaho had to remind himself that they were still human.
The Carryall's wings flapped noisily, causing Idaho's stomach to lurch. He steadied himself, then looked out the back to the other Carryalls flying into position. He was heading a covert strike into enemy territory. While a major force distracted the Covenant, drawing their troops from the command centre, they would sneak in and transfer control from the centre to the map room, which the remainder of the conscripts secured in his absence.
The ship jerked forward slightly as the turbine engines took over from the 'glide-flying', an indication they had reached their destination. Idaho gripped the handrail and grabbed at his rapier. The Carryall slowed, then stopped, as did the other transports. Idaho could hear over the roar of the turbines that the pilot was asking for orders form Bomoko. He leaned out the door, peering out to see what was in front of the ship.
There was an extremely large cliff-face, only a few metres ahead of them. Idaho groaned and walked over to the door separating the soldiers form the pilots. He knocked once, then opened it. He heard the pilot's request for a definition of the orders.
The radio crackled, and Bomoko's voice came out. "You are to proceed three cycles upspin from here at the same altitude. Do not attempt to go over any obstacle, you will be detected."
"With all due respect, sir, that's impossible. We cannot travel any further without gaining altitude!" The pilot snorted. "Unless, of course you want us to fly straight through this cliff."
"Precisely." Came the reply.
"What?" Idaho and the pilot replied.
"You are to fly through this cliff. There are a system of tunnels present which lead to the desired destination, and this route appears to give the most stealth."
"Well that's very nice, sir, but I can't see any tunnels."
"Hold on." There was a brief crackling sound, then they heard his voice faintly mutter something about controls. There was another crackle, and then his voice came back; "Right, that should do it."
"What should do what?"
"Just wait..." There was a dull, sonorous sound which was audible over the engines. Idaho peered out of the cockpit, and saw, to his amazement, a large portal open in the cliff edge. It must've been twenty-five metres in diameter, and it lead off into some unfathomable catacombs deep within the ring.
"You expect us to fly through that?" The pilot asked. "That's impossible! We'll crash!"
"You will not if you handle the Carryall correctly." Bomoko replied curtly. "Fly through in a queue formation. I shall close the portal behind you when you have all entered, and then I expect you to reach the Command Centre in less then thirty minutes. Bomoko out." The radio cut off.
"Crazy..." the pilot muttered, but he relayed the information to the other Carryalls. He positioned the craft in front of the door.
"Hang on, everyone!" He yelled through the radio. "It's gonna be a tight squeeze!"
Slowly the Carryalls flew ponderously into the cliff edge, their residual wings barley avoiding the tunnel walls. As the last one disappeared into the darkness, the hole in the cliff began to close. There was a grinding stone on stone sound as it shut the subterranean system off from the outside of the ring. The portal disappeared, as if it had never been.
&&&&&&
Bomoko leaned back from the communicator and rubbed his eyes wearily. Already dissent was coming from the Suk doctors over their lack of resources. The Arrakis natives and Guildsmen were starting to suffer from Melange withdrawal. Without an intake soon, they would slip into comas, probably irreversibly. But those weren't foremost on his mind.
"Trooper Byrnes!" He yelled. The man walked up at saluted. "What are the reports form our scouts on the enemy movements?"
"Still the same, sir. Ships, troops and vehicles are moving into position around a five-mile diameter circle, with this frigate as the centre." Bomoko nodded, then dismissed the soldier with a wave.
He sat back. The Covenant were arranging a strike force to annihilate the frigates... He couldn't blame them. If he were in their shoes he'd be doing the same thing, except with a bit more subtlety. For technologically- advanced aliens, they were remarkably uncouth-. He cut that train of thought off. 'You must never expect anything less from your opponents as you would from yourself', he remembered his Mentat training. He must always assume every possibility, despite the first appearances of these creatures.
By the looks of things, they would be ready to attack within three hours. The only thing Bomoko was unsure about was how long they would last. He disliked uncertainties. They were against his training, and besides, they were also too simple. But right now, he had nothing to verify his calculations, so he was left unsure.
He turned and faced the window, seeing in the distance the movement of a large force. He steadied his breathing, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear.
&&&&&&
Idaho jumped out of the Carryall, which was hovering over an artificial edge within the subterranean tunnels honeycombing the ringworld. He scanned the area he was on, one hand over his shield, while the Sardaukar quickly followed his example. With a large roaring sound, the Carryall left the landing zone, leaving the strike force to their uncertain fate.
Idaho cracked his neck, then indicated the troops to follow him. They quickly arranged into a formation which allowed the soldiers to isolate a target as soon as possible. They walked forward cautiously towards the door which lead to their target of the Command Centre.
&&&&&&
Mentat Ingsley looked up at the sound of ornithopters on a flight pattern. He turned back to the tropical sands, and idly traced a small pattern in it. This island was the only major stronghold bar from the frigates, and it was where the Command Centre was going to be relocated.
Ingsley sighed, then held his head in his hands. His own personal review of the data was not promising. He was more pessimistic then the average Mentat, and so was more inclined to consider the worse – or as he would say, accurate – outcomes of his data.
They were fighting against an opponent who outnumbered them, who had better technology than them, who had a better knowledge of the terrain, who had more strongholds occupied... it didn't take a genius to realise that the chances of them succeeding were going to be rather slim.
The squad of trikes went past him on their regular patrol, their heavy multi-barrelled automatic rifles unmanned at the moment, but Ingsley knew that they would occupied soon enough.
&&&&&&
Idaho opened the next door, and shuddered as the sharp winds caused his skin to tighten. He rubbed his hands, then peered out quickly. The opening to the bridge seemed empty so far... he indicated for the Sardaukar to follow him.
The elite troops quickly filed into firing positions, using the large stone block just in front of the door as a blockade. Idaho quickly stuck his head from behind the block and looked down the span of the bridge. Nothing, bar the bolts of green and blue lightning which linked each suspension to the next, moved.
He made a small hand-signal ordering the Sardaukar to wait behind while he moved ahead. He cautiously stepped out from behind the block, drawing his rapier as he did so. Slowly, slowly, he stepped forward. Snow clung to his beard and wispy hair, cooling his face uncomfortably. He checked the bridge again. Nothing. He was about to signal the Sardaukar to follow, when something caught his eye.
It seemed to be, for all the world, a glowing blue sword suspended in mid- air, slowly moving in front of him. Idaho closed his eyes sharply, then opened them, wondering if he was hallucinating. The sword was still there. He began to walk back, when the sword suddenly flung itself up, and a guttural roar seemed to sound from nowhere. Diminutive aliens came into view from behind bulkheads in the bridge, their weapons ready. The sword- vision then flung itself down upon him at an unnerving speed. His hand flicked to his shield, activating it.
The sword flung itself at Idaho with an unimaginable force, and it is at this point which I must draw the reader's attention with a brief scientific fact.
Covenant personal shielding works on an energy-absorption basis, to whit, they will protect the user from harm until a certain amount of exterior energy has impacted against it. At this point, the shield deactivates for a few seconds in order to incorporate the foreign energy into its workings. This form of recycling energy means that a Covenant soldier can have their shield on indefinitely without fear that it will 'run out of power', so to say. Needless to say, if an there is energy in excess of the shield's absorption rate, then the remaining energy will impact against the actual wearer of the shield. This is the reason why plasma swords were so fatal. They exposed the recipient of their strikes with enough energy to cut through several inches of lead without pause.
The Holtzman generator, however, works on a different basis. They work on the Phase One of the suspensor-nullification effect. This means that when the user activates the shield, only objects moving at a slow rate, six to nine centimetres per second, are allowed to move through the shield. Anything else is repelled from the shield at an equal rate at which it impacted against the field. Basically, this means that a shield wearer can easily stand and be shot at for as long as the battery charge allows without getting hurt. Disadvantages are that air can quickly become stale as little new air replaces the old air, and senses are lowered, especially sound.
The result of these differences became apparent to the cloaked Elite when her sword, originally aimed to decapitate the human, broke in two. She paused, staring at the stump of her weapon in disbelief. Idaho, in retaliation turned on the spot, and stabbed forward with his rapier.
The sword went straight through the unshielded Elite. Idaho braced his legs, then raised the squealing creature above his head, blood alternately hitting his face or bouncing off of his shield. With a quick gesture, he flung the alien off of the edge of the bridge, then flicked his sword into the ready position, splattering a line of purple blood on the bridge floor.
There was a brief silence form both the humans and the aliens as they saw the Elite fall to her death. Then the creatures wailed in horror and the humans yelled in victory. 'Killing with the point lacks artistry' Idaho recalled the words of his ancestor, 'but don't let that hold your hand when the opening presents itself'. Idaho deactivated his shield, then joined the Sardaukar in pursuit of the fleeing aliens before they alerted anyone to their presence.
&&&&&&
"Contact!"
The cry startled Bomoko out of his trance, and he quickly turned to the radio which had uttered the report.
"How many?" He barked into the transceiver, clearing his mind of distractions.
"Uh... all of them, I think." Replied the soldier with a frightened tone.
Other reports started to come in. "Look sharp! Enemies coming in!" "On your left!" "God, how many of them are there?!"
He quickly assessed the situation, then turned back to address the soldiers over the radio network. "Men, I must ask you to provide a suitable defence necessary to keep these creatures off of this ship. Until the Command Centre has been transferred to the map room, we need to stay put." He switched the radio off, then turned to Byrnes. "Inform the Suk doctors that we need every patient ready as soon as possible to use weapons." The man nodded, then ran off.
Bomoko chewed his lip, thinking furiously, then turned back to the radio transceiver, sending a signal to the remaining strong-points.
&&&&&&
The sudden crackle of static from the radio startled Ingsley from using the 'Silent Cartographer', as it had now been identified. He reached for the radio, cursing the fact that the device was deep underground. Radio waves did not travel well through earth.
"...I repeat..." came the crackled voice of Bomoko, his worried tone clear even through the static. "We ha-... -tiple conta-... we will hol-... -r as long as w- ... -daho will be tran-... -on, so our Comm-... -here. Until the-... -od have mercy upon us. Bomo-..." The radio died.
Ingsley nodded his head sagely, then turned to the Cartographer, and used it to focus on the sections where the Command Centre of the ring, and where the Command frigate were.
&&&&&&
Idaho grimaced as the squad slowly moved through up to the top of the large pyramid-like structure. At the top was their goal, but their rate of movement was distressingly slow. They did not have the numbers for a full- frontal assault, and so were left to use stealth to move up the structure, killing quietly and quickly.
&&&&&&
A burst of gunfire sounded form the radio, startling Bomoko. He calmed himself down, feeling his heart slow gradually. A victorious laugh emitted from the speakers. "Ha-ha! Got one!"
There was the short, sharp barks of a long-range rifle, first form only one position, then from two, three, four, then all. "For intergalactic aliens, they sure are dumb!" One soldier yelled.
A large explosion sounded mingled with alien cries. There was a yell of victory from the defenders. "This is easy!" "I hear that!" "Watch your left flank, they're-" "I've got 'em..." More gunfire.
First the bullets came in a few single-shot rounds. Then on semi- automatic, then on full auto. "This is like a duck shoot, man!" "Watch those buggers, they're getting close..." "Hey, has anyone got anymore ammo? I'm almost out." "It's getting a bit hot up here..."
A scream. "Shit! They got Arkie!" "Stow that whining, soldier! You've got another arm!" "Suck on this!" The sound of a grenade exploding. A human yell of pain, followed by the sound of someone firing off an entire magazine.
"I said short, controlled bursts!" "Watch out, man!" "Fire in the hold!" "Hey, I'm out of grenades, here-" The voice was cut off by an explosion. "Incoming! Alien bandits dead ahead!" "I got 'em!" Bullets burst from a heavy machine gun. There was another explosion, and the gunfire stopped.
"I said watch that flank, goddammit!" "Sorry sir! There's too ma-" "Shit! Watch out!" "God-damn! Don't these guys ever give up?" Barks from a pistol. "Bullets are my gift to you..." one soldier hissed, probably unaware the radio was on.
Another scream. "Oh God!" Sobbing. "God preserve me!" "Get a medic up here!" The sizzling sound of plasma against flesh. "Fuck... I'm blind, man..." "You're not, okay? You're fine, you've... you've just got blood in your eyes."
"God-DAMN..." One soldier hissed. "Look out! Dropships!" "Nail 'em!" "I can't sir! I've got a squad right on top of me!" The sharp gibberish of alien war-language. The buzzing sound of hot plasma burning through air.
"Ah! It burns!" "On your left! There! There! There!" More firing. "Nail those fuckers...!" The sound of someone reloading. "I've got 'em!" Plasma bursts. "No, I don't!"
"They're planting charges on the main doors!" "Stop them!" bullets thudded into earth and flesh. "Ha-ha! Not so tough now, are w-" the voice was cut off by the sound of burning. There was brief silence, broken by gunfire and incoherent yells, both human and alien.
Gasping. The slow, laboured gasping of a dying person. "Oh God..." "Hold on, man!" "Oh God... God help me! God have mercy on me!" "Shut up! You're going to be fine! Fuck..." the voice quietened. "Medic!" The gasping started to slow. "Don't do this to me, man! Stay in there! Just hold on- damn!" The sound of a rifle mingled with whimpers of horror. "That got 'em! Yeah! That na- Goodall? Goodall? You stil- Damn!"
An explosion rocked the entire ship. "They've breached the doors! Every man for himself!" Gunfire, this time audible with normal hearing. Screams and battle cries. Bomoko closed his eyes, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear over and over as he heard the fighting get closer and closer.
&&&&&&
R&R, please.