Chapter One: Assault
Horizontal rainfall was something most humans never saw in the span of their lives. Earth supported fairly moderate weather patterns when compared to the countless number of other worlds in the galaxy. The clouds had formed a vast wall in the extreme heights of the night sky, tarnishing whatever light managed to seep through from the deep orange moon above. Deep magnetic fields created by the atmospheric disturbances began to play games with the flight instruments. Gauges flew to their sides as various display screens began to show nothing but static.
"Son of a bitch, how the hell are we supposed to make this drop?"
"By shutting up and keeping your eyes open, they said they charged the floodlights, we'll see them soon enough."
Gripping her tightly strapped helmet, Sarah Canter shook her head violently in a masochistic attempt to ease her stress. Her flight suit was beginning to cause her skin to itch and her feet to sweat. She cursed the man who claimed these boots allowed the best breathing to date. Alerted by a nervous hum from her partner, she put her eyes back on the blackened world outside the cockpit. "My feet are going to smell like shit."
"They already smell like shit, watch what you're doing."
A middle aged, gruff man sat next to her, gripping his support rail with more muscles than his body should allow. Beads of sweat began to fall in front of his eyes as he stared into the black void ahead. "Let's just keep this a clean drop, shall we? I would rather avoid another incident like LV-229."
"That was not my fault and you know it! That beacon was off by 3 marks at least!"
"Your excuses may have helped when the investigation began, but it won't fly with me, pilot. A four-alarm hangover usually has nasty side effects that can make piloting a state-of-the-art atmospheric flier somewhat difficult. Occasionally the services rendered."
"Just shut up already, okay? It happened once, just."
"Twice, my dear, twice."
"Fine, twice."
"On the same mission."
"Yes, on the same mission. Fuck you."
Captain Christopher Hayes smiled and smacked Canter's helmet, "Shut up and watch the sky."
The dropship leveled with the horizon and began a light descent towards a series of lights. The atmospheric beacon was useless due to all the interference from the storm, yet Canter managed to fly the vessel with flawless precision. The lights grew large and surrounded the ship. Canter gently eased the vessel down without any problems. The drop door on the underside of the ship descended, unaffected by the dozen Marines that ran out as quickly as possible. After a total of eighteen Marines had left the vessel, Canter brought it to an altitude of forty-five meters. A loud hissing noise penetrated the ambient noise of the rain. Canter looked towards Hayes and smiled sadistically, "One-hundred credits says this will do more damage than anything I caused on LV-229."
Without taking his eyes off of the target, Hayes smiled and nodded approvingly. Canter struck a button and watched as six rockets flew from their casements and breached the outer wall of the compound. A pillar of smoke arose as the Marines rushed in, weapons already firing. Nervous chatter on the Marine radio was interrupted by angry voices asking for an explanation for a violent attack. Canter pressed a button to acknowledge the administrative staff of the compound, "Surprise! I think we forgot to mention we aren't actually with the OCAA."
A slight pause ended with a nervous voice on the comm, "Who are you with?"
"United States Colonial Marines, have a nice day."
Static was all Canter received in return. She smiled and pulled on the stick, sending the vessel into the sky. As she took the vessel over the compound, another dropship replaced hers and deposited another dozen Marines onto the planet side. The ship lifted and follow Canter. A large tower filled with blinking navigational lights gleamed in the distance. Canter laughed as she fired several more rockets and watched as the other ship did the same. The tower collapsed in a disastrous explosion as the rockets hit, sending sparks and cables everywhere. The ships hovered in the air as the tower crumbled to bits in front of them.
"The night is young, Sarah, any ideas on how to keep ourselves entertained?"
"Shut up, dickhead. I'm not that kind of girl."
"Fuck you, Pilot. But you're right, you're not my kind of girl. I prefer the sober ones."
"Really? I would have thought your only chance would be with the drunks."
"No such thing as a drunk anymore, you swallowed all the liquor."
"Well those poor girls needed someone to make sure you never got to them."
Hayes laughed and responded heartily, "Checkmate, Canter. Now get us the fuck out of here. I'm tired."
"With pleasure."
The dropship headed into the atmosphere, followed closely by the second. The Marine comm. Blared loudly with the sounds of gunshots and laughter. It seemed as though the Marines were having little trouble overtaking the compound's security.
"It isn't typical procedure to pull back to the ship after a drop."
"True," Hayes responded, "but it also isn't typical procedure to drop thirty Marines on a virtually defenseless compound selling a few space fighters on the black market. Their only hope would have been to take out our dropships or an APC if we had used one. Those fighters definitely would have cleaned us off the map. Luckily black market merchants aren't too good with GCC code recognition."
"That's HCC, dumbass."
"Funny, your brain still retains memory after all the alcohol."
"My ass could retain a term we've learned for years on end."
"Really? Then what does it stand for?"
"Fuck you, that's what."
The dropship slowly approached the stationary cruiser hanging several kilometers above the planet's surface. The Dantrol's hanger doors opened as the dropships gently glided in and docked.
Hayes followed Canter out of the cockpit and slapped her on the behind before turning to walk away. After taking four steps he felt a sharp slap as Canter's helmet collided with his back. As he looked back at her, her eyes darted to the ceiling as she began whistling, clearly stating her innocence. Hayes smiled and continued out of the hanger bay. He carried a radio to be used for monitoring the Marines' progress. He walked through the tightly packed halls of the Dantrol toward his temporary cabin. The lights had been raised to full illumination, removing some of the anxiety of walking in a fairly dark space vessel. His unease was still present turning every corner, noting how sharp the turns were and how a simple ambush could be around the next turn. Disturbing stories of starship raids reminded him of the dangers inherent to working in space. Many of the United States Fleet vessels had been boarded by mysterious intruders in recent weeks. The problem had become so bad that, at minimum, one unit of Marines were assigned to each ship, whether it was a militaristic mission or not. One engagement ended in victory for the United States, with the capture of several of the raiders. Autopsies and investigations were being performed through the days to identify the attackers. Scientists in a local lab had finally identified particular elements from the raiders' vessels. These emissions were traced to a planet in Sector 112. Upon further investigation, a colony full of mercenaries and smugglers was identified on a small habitable moon named Agorax. The order was sent out in record timing to have the colony wiped out. The Dantrol was one of three vessels assigned to the task. The other two ships were already present in orbit around the planet, but the Marines aboard the Dantrol were to make the first move. The best two strike teams had been assigned the task of decimating the colonies defenses from the inside. As soon as their mission was completed, the other vessels would drop their troops and completely overtake the facility. Hayes lifted the radio to his ear and listened to the random commotion coming from the Marines' transmitters. No casualties reported, no sign of any heavy defense, it seemed as though the mission would be a total success. Hayes knew better than to expect success yet. Smuggler facilities often had half a dozen, if not more, sublevels. Their initial scans had not shown any type of sublevel, but it was a well known fact that smugglers had means of hiding from scans. Hayes turned a final corner and reached his room. The walk had been longer than he would have preferred, but he was in no position to complain. The incident on LV-229 had rocked his career as well as Commander Canter's.
Failing to notice the low battery indicator on the screen, he tossed the radio on a table and laid down on a fold up cot. Mental images of the disaster at LV-229 raced through his head before he fell asleep. The indicator light on the radio began to blink rapidly before finally shutting off. It was of little concern to Captain Hayes, there would be other members of the Dantrol crew monitoring the progress of the mission.
".really need to wake up now!"
A heavy jolt rocked Hayes to consciousness. He looked up to see a very nervous face staring at him. He fluttered his eyes in the bright light, "What is it, Lieutenant?"
"The mission has been compromised, we can't maintain contact with the Marine team. Commander Canter has been instructed to make an emergency drop along with the backup team from the Argo to retrieve whoever may have survived."
Hayes began to sweat from his fear immediately, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Return to your post, I'll get to the bridge as quickly as possible."
Without another word, Hayes followed the nervous woman out of his room, completely forgetting his apparent lack of a shirt. He reached the bridge before realizing it was unnecessary for him to be there. Cursing, he turned around and ran towards the hanger. Grabbing a field jacket, he sprinted into the hanger and directly into the Dantrol's primary dropship. He ran to the cockpit and grabbed Canter's shoulder, "No way, Commander. We're taking the Hellbird."
"Already? We haven't had time to prep it for mission readiness yet."
"No time like now, Sarah. She doesn't need much of anything, anyway. She's brand new, she won't have any technical problems. All I'm concerned about is piloting a completely new dropship, think you're up to the task?"
Canter smiled and shouted, "Well shit! I'm up to it if you are, jackass!"
Hayes smiled in return, "Then suit up, pilot."
Sitting in the cockpit of a dropship no enlisted pilot had yet flown was more than slightly unnerving for both Canter and Hayes. Canter grabbed the control stick and twisted it to see how much it resisted. The controls were quite flexible, which would allow for as smooth a flight as possible.
The Hellbird was the brainchild of forty top scientists and engineers back on Earth. Fleet had asked for a vehicle to serve double duty as a personnel transporter, but also a war vessel. The Hellbird was finally realized after six years of planning and rough construction. Its sleek and elongated hull would allow tight navigation in combat situations, yet the design was still more than capable of making quick and effortless drops on a planet. The cockpit seated two operators, a pilot and a general operations officer. In combat, the ops officer would work as a gunner as well. The style was set so the ops officer sat behind the pilot, slightly raised in much the same way twenty-first century fighter jets were designed. A narrow and cramped passage allowed entry and exit of the cockpit into the innards of the vessel, which could hold up to twenty-five Marines or a fully stocked APC. Canter and Hayes gave themselves no time to comfortably situate before dropping out of the Dantrol. Hayes shouted to his partner, "So no big deal, we're testing her a little early is all!"
"We weren't supposed to test it until this mission was long over. Not to mention the fact that we weren't supposed to be using it for a life or death situation when we have no idea of what's going on!"
"It's going to work now just as well as it would later, so let's hope we were going to have a successful first test run."
"That is not helping."
"I didn't say I was trying to help. Besides, think about it, about the situation down there. We are up against a facility that is holding superior starfighters. We wouldn't stand a chance in those ancient dropships. The Hellbird is as good a chance as we're going to get if they decide to use one of those bastards against us." Canter said nothing, keeping herself focused on the task at hand. The Hellbird quickly descending towards the planet's surface, much faster than a standard dropship. She quickly spotted the landing area and efficiently dropped the vessel down onto the ground. She put the engine of the Hellbird into an idle state and looked back towards, Hayes, "So now what?"
"Move, soldier, move!"
Gunfire rang out in loud, short bursts. Sparks flew off of the walls as bullets ricocheted off the metal walls. The clinking noise of shells hitting the floor still managed to penetrate the immense sound of random explosions, sending chills down the spine of Corporal Polner as he ran. Followed closely after him was what remained of the Marine strike team sent to overtake the facility held by the smugglers. Six marines followed their new field leader, forced into the position by the untimely death of their commanding sergeant, as he led them top what he hoped was a clear exit. The bodies of the remaining twenty-four marines were going to remain there for the time being. Followed by the seven marines was a defense force the Colonial Marines never could have expected. The frightening whine of a minigun droned on in the distance while the clicking hum of pulse rifles continued to haunt the marines' ears. Polner listened in disgust as he heard the familiar sound of bullets ripping into human flesh, driving themselves into vital organs, successfully accomplishing their fatal mission. He looked back and saw two of his troops fall. He momentarily thought to stop and attempt to save whatever he could of their bodies, but soon realized the futility in such an action. Taking a different approach to the situation, he pulled a standard grenade from his gear, pulled the pin, and verbally executed a two count. He threw the grenade blindly over his head, easily clearing his team of marines. The sound of the explosion was of little satisfaction when he recalled how many enemies had engage his team. At most, he had eliminated two or three of his trigger happy stalkers, which would only slow down the remaining twenty as they attempted to step over the bodies. Polner's heart sank when he glanced back to find he had only injured one, who stumbled from the sharp pain in his leg. The feeling was only amplified when Polner realized they had enough men to spare two soldiers to stop and help their fallen comrade. Looking down to see a completely empty ammunition indicator sent another chill down his spine. Searching his gear for spare cartridges for his rifle, he found nothing but a broken transmitter and several pieces of chewing gum. His thoughts drifted to the taste of the gum, easing his tension and allowing his mind to escape the pain from the bullets that entered his leg. As Polner fell to the ground, unable to move his leg beyond a light twitch, he thought of his family back on Earth. His eyes closed as he sensed the oncoming footsteps of the mercenary attack squad behind him. He cursed himself for ever enlisting in the service, twenty-five was no age to die at. As he slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the last sound he heard was a steady stream of bullets zipping through the air above him. Bullets too repetitive for a pulse rifle, it had to be a minigun. Yet the bullets were streaming the wrong way. Polner calmly lost consciousness understanding that his backup had arrived. He knew his troops were going to be saved.
"Polner's down, Polner's down!"
"I heard you, get on the floor, now!"
"What the hell are you.?"
Private Jundas leapt to the floor as he saw the rocket launcher atop a Colonial Marine's shoulder. A streak of smoke was all Jundas saw before a brilliant flash of light and the sound of an explosion rocked the hallway he was in. He heard scream of pain coming from the wall of smoke well behind him. He heard another rocket launch before seeing two Marines sprint into the facility to recover his fallen partner, Polner. Standing up, Jundas readied his rifle and ran into the smoke. He stopped as he saw the Marines dragging Polner's lifeless body towards him. Bullet holes streaked with fresh blood covered his right leg and a small portion of his lower back. In his firmly clamped left hand, Polner held a small pack of chewing gum. Jundas gagged as he saw the package of gum covered up by a thin layer of crusted blood. The Marines dragged Polner's body out into the open air of the planet as they left the compound through a large cargo door. Jundas followed to see two dropships waiting for them. The remaining Marines of the primary strike team assembled themselves and boarded the dropship, only glancing back to their fallen comrades. Jundas looked at them in shame, feeling nothing but a strong sense of pity for his team. No Marine team had left so many people behind since some mission constantly referred to by older troops. It was a large operation that took place on LV-462, in the Hadley's Hope facility. The entire mission was maintained as 'Investigation AD: 7'. The validity of an investigation that concluded an area was completely normal is somewhat questionable when the area is put under total quarantine two weeks later. More rumors circulated even more when all of the colonists failed to return to Earth on their stated vacation dates. The general opinion held by most citizens was a total lack of concern. Those that bothered to involve themselves in the news of the Hadley's Hope facility rarely gave it a second thought. Jundas remembered an interview that was made approximately one year after the rumors of the events on LV-462 began circulating. The interview focused on a captain of a supply ship that was never given the news of the planet's quarantine. The interview itself took place over transmitted audio, no personal contact was ever made. The captain kept describing mysterious smells and sounds he had experienced while on the planet's surface. The transmission had been cut before any substantial information could be given, pressing most critics to believe the man was a fraud. The entire mission was soon held under that title, a fraud. Many believed it was a ploy by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation to generate sympathy and hopefully bring in new employees. Some believed it was a ploy by the United States government to bring in new troops to their Colonial Marine divisions. Some thought it was just another tabloid story similar to that of Roswell or the batboy. Jundas looked back to the facility again and cursed under his breath, "Fuck 'em. I got my own life to live."
All the Marines present boarded the dropship and fired several more rockets into the gut of the facility. On the other side of the structure, the Hellbird sat as its engine hummed steadily.
"Are they going to."
A raspy voice on the static-filled transmitter interrupted Canter, ".all recovered. prep for take. standing. why aren't we."
Canter stared, unblinking, at the console as its transmission continued, ".why not? Well. anyway. now. three degrees to the left! No you need to. shit! Pull back and stand by for rocket. fire. down, repeat. we are."
The transmission abruptly ended with one last bit of intense yelling and what sounded like a missile launch. Canter grabbed the stick and lifted the Hellbird off the ground. Typically, Hayes would have objected to a sudden course of action such as this, but she heard no argument this time. She piloted the ship towards the south end of the facility and jabbed several buttons in hastened frustration. A console popped up in front of Hayes, signaling the ship's readiness for combat. Hayes pressed several buttons and charged the ventrally mounted turret on the Hellbird. As the ship cleared a large rise in the facility, they saw flaming wreckage scattered across the ground. Bodies were strewn around the metal in twisted positions, as if rag dolls had been thrown from the ship rather than humans. The sight invoked disgust for both Canter and Hayes, which quickly changing into fear as they saw the starfighters make a pass over the wreckage. Canter jammed the stick to the left and swung the Hellbird to port, giving Hayes as good a shot as he was going to get. The turret fired instantly and true, striking the closer of the starfighters with extreme intensity. The fighter began to shake violently, but remained on course, a course that was bound to change in the next second. The rhetoric prediction became true as the two starfighters altered their direction and began to fly straight for the Hellbird. Hayes took the opportunity of a straight on target and fired a missile. The immense explosion signaled a successful hit to Hayes. He smiled as the nimble fighter fell to the ground below. The Hellbird swung wildly as Canter went for a rounding pass, jolting Hayes and causing him to lose the lock on the second fighter. He swung the turret towards the ship and fired with little mercy. Sparks flew from the fighter's hull and Hayes watched in horror as the sparks began to get closer at an extremely quick velocity. The fighter had fired a missile and Hayes was now shooting it. He held the trigger down and hoped the missile would be destroyed or at least strayed from its course. His hopes died and he watched the missile ram into the aft section of the Hellbird. There was no explosion, only an extremely strong jolt and a minor case of whiplash for Canter. Hayes worried that the missile was set for a timed reaction, but it did nothing. It was of no concern how it happened this way, only that it did. Canter swung the ship again and gave Hayes another clear shot. The maneuver was successful, confirmed by the missile launch from, the Hellbird, sending the other fighter to the ground in flames.
"I'd say we had as good a test run as possible!"
Canter laughed wildly and screamed, "I'm buying drinks tonight you bastard!"
Canter noticed the indication on her console's proximity radar and realized one of the dropships had been able to escape. She took the Hellbird alongside the ship and escorted it back to its carrier. Realizing it would have some spare room, she brought the Hellbird to the Turuga's hanger bay and engaged the docking procedures. As soon as the process was completed, she removed her flight helmet and wiped the tears from her eyes before Hayes could see anything.
The billowing steam from the pipes worked in conjunction with the hissing from broken vales to create an atmosphere of total comfort for a creature of a particular nature. With temperatures high above those of human comfort, most animals would avoid such an area. Yet they found it relaxing after the noise and confusion caused by the day's events. Sensing the broken cryo-tubing gave the creatures a primordial sense of satisfaction. The smell of blood penetrated their brains overpowering everything else as they slowly removed themselves from the bodies of their hosts. High pitched screeching and whining filled the air, drowning out the sound of the hissing pipes. The sound of ripping flesh came soon afterwards, as the creatures began to devour what remained of their hosts. A strong instinct to eat as much as possible overcame what logical thinking they possessed at the time. As the gruesome feast ended, the creatures found various escape routes from what was their prison, broken air ducts, holes in the wall, the open door leading to the halls. A computer console nearby read:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twelve pods compromised.
The console changed to a crimson red pulse as it displayed a new message every few seconds:
Warning: One specimen absent.
Warning: Three specimens absent.
Warning: Seven specimens absent.
Warning: Twelve specimens absent.
A pulse rifle fell to the floor as the last creature exited the room. The bloody arm of one of the mercenaries dangled gently in the air, hanging from a body that appeared to have no apparent injury. The computer console once again changed:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twenty pods compromised.
Slender snakelike legs extended from a metal encasement as a slimy noise signaled the opening of an organic object inside. The container sat next to eight others, one of which was already clearly opened. The remaining creatures quickly exited the protection of their eggs and began to escape the room as easily as their partners had only moments before. One creature climbed up the body of the mercenary towards an air duct near the ceiling. It treaded lightly as it climbed over one of its own, already secured to the face of the mercenary. It scurried away as its comrade took in air and released it, breathing for itself and its prey as it began the implantation process. The computer changed once more:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twenty pods compromised.
Warning: Nineteen specimens absent.
Horizontal rainfall was something most humans never saw in the span of their lives. Earth supported fairly moderate weather patterns when compared to the countless number of other worlds in the galaxy. The clouds had formed a vast wall in the extreme heights of the night sky, tarnishing whatever light managed to seep through from the deep orange moon above. Deep magnetic fields created by the atmospheric disturbances began to play games with the flight instruments. Gauges flew to their sides as various display screens began to show nothing but static.
"Son of a bitch, how the hell are we supposed to make this drop?"
"By shutting up and keeping your eyes open, they said they charged the floodlights, we'll see them soon enough."
Gripping her tightly strapped helmet, Sarah Canter shook her head violently in a masochistic attempt to ease her stress. Her flight suit was beginning to cause her skin to itch and her feet to sweat. She cursed the man who claimed these boots allowed the best breathing to date. Alerted by a nervous hum from her partner, she put her eyes back on the blackened world outside the cockpit. "My feet are going to smell like shit."
"They already smell like shit, watch what you're doing."
A middle aged, gruff man sat next to her, gripping his support rail with more muscles than his body should allow. Beads of sweat began to fall in front of his eyes as he stared into the black void ahead. "Let's just keep this a clean drop, shall we? I would rather avoid another incident like LV-229."
"That was not my fault and you know it! That beacon was off by 3 marks at least!"
"Your excuses may have helped when the investigation began, but it won't fly with me, pilot. A four-alarm hangover usually has nasty side effects that can make piloting a state-of-the-art atmospheric flier somewhat difficult. Occasionally the services rendered."
"Just shut up already, okay? It happened once, just."
"Twice, my dear, twice."
"Fine, twice."
"On the same mission."
"Yes, on the same mission. Fuck you."
Captain Christopher Hayes smiled and smacked Canter's helmet, "Shut up and watch the sky."
The dropship leveled with the horizon and began a light descent towards a series of lights. The atmospheric beacon was useless due to all the interference from the storm, yet Canter managed to fly the vessel with flawless precision. The lights grew large and surrounded the ship. Canter gently eased the vessel down without any problems. The drop door on the underside of the ship descended, unaffected by the dozen Marines that ran out as quickly as possible. After a total of eighteen Marines had left the vessel, Canter brought it to an altitude of forty-five meters. A loud hissing noise penetrated the ambient noise of the rain. Canter looked towards Hayes and smiled sadistically, "One-hundred credits says this will do more damage than anything I caused on LV-229."
Without taking his eyes off of the target, Hayes smiled and nodded approvingly. Canter struck a button and watched as six rockets flew from their casements and breached the outer wall of the compound. A pillar of smoke arose as the Marines rushed in, weapons already firing. Nervous chatter on the Marine radio was interrupted by angry voices asking for an explanation for a violent attack. Canter pressed a button to acknowledge the administrative staff of the compound, "Surprise! I think we forgot to mention we aren't actually with the OCAA."
A slight pause ended with a nervous voice on the comm, "Who are you with?"
"United States Colonial Marines, have a nice day."
Static was all Canter received in return. She smiled and pulled on the stick, sending the vessel into the sky. As she took the vessel over the compound, another dropship replaced hers and deposited another dozen Marines onto the planet side. The ship lifted and follow Canter. A large tower filled with blinking navigational lights gleamed in the distance. Canter laughed as she fired several more rockets and watched as the other ship did the same. The tower collapsed in a disastrous explosion as the rockets hit, sending sparks and cables everywhere. The ships hovered in the air as the tower crumbled to bits in front of them.
"The night is young, Sarah, any ideas on how to keep ourselves entertained?"
"Shut up, dickhead. I'm not that kind of girl."
"Fuck you, Pilot. But you're right, you're not my kind of girl. I prefer the sober ones."
"Really? I would have thought your only chance would be with the drunks."
"No such thing as a drunk anymore, you swallowed all the liquor."
"Well those poor girls needed someone to make sure you never got to them."
Hayes laughed and responded heartily, "Checkmate, Canter. Now get us the fuck out of here. I'm tired."
"With pleasure."
The dropship headed into the atmosphere, followed closely by the second. The Marine comm. Blared loudly with the sounds of gunshots and laughter. It seemed as though the Marines were having little trouble overtaking the compound's security.
"It isn't typical procedure to pull back to the ship after a drop."
"True," Hayes responded, "but it also isn't typical procedure to drop thirty Marines on a virtually defenseless compound selling a few space fighters on the black market. Their only hope would have been to take out our dropships or an APC if we had used one. Those fighters definitely would have cleaned us off the map. Luckily black market merchants aren't too good with GCC code recognition."
"That's HCC, dumbass."
"Funny, your brain still retains memory after all the alcohol."
"My ass could retain a term we've learned for years on end."
"Really? Then what does it stand for?"
"Fuck you, that's what."
The dropship slowly approached the stationary cruiser hanging several kilometers above the planet's surface. The Dantrol's hanger doors opened as the dropships gently glided in and docked.
Hayes followed Canter out of the cockpit and slapped her on the behind before turning to walk away. After taking four steps he felt a sharp slap as Canter's helmet collided with his back. As he looked back at her, her eyes darted to the ceiling as she began whistling, clearly stating her innocence. Hayes smiled and continued out of the hanger bay. He carried a radio to be used for monitoring the Marines' progress. He walked through the tightly packed halls of the Dantrol toward his temporary cabin. The lights had been raised to full illumination, removing some of the anxiety of walking in a fairly dark space vessel. His unease was still present turning every corner, noting how sharp the turns were and how a simple ambush could be around the next turn. Disturbing stories of starship raids reminded him of the dangers inherent to working in space. Many of the United States Fleet vessels had been boarded by mysterious intruders in recent weeks. The problem had become so bad that, at minimum, one unit of Marines were assigned to each ship, whether it was a militaristic mission or not. One engagement ended in victory for the United States, with the capture of several of the raiders. Autopsies and investigations were being performed through the days to identify the attackers. Scientists in a local lab had finally identified particular elements from the raiders' vessels. These emissions were traced to a planet in Sector 112. Upon further investigation, a colony full of mercenaries and smugglers was identified on a small habitable moon named Agorax. The order was sent out in record timing to have the colony wiped out. The Dantrol was one of three vessels assigned to the task. The other two ships were already present in orbit around the planet, but the Marines aboard the Dantrol were to make the first move. The best two strike teams had been assigned the task of decimating the colonies defenses from the inside. As soon as their mission was completed, the other vessels would drop their troops and completely overtake the facility. Hayes lifted the radio to his ear and listened to the random commotion coming from the Marines' transmitters. No casualties reported, no sign of any heavy defense, it seemed as though the mission would be a total success. Hayes knew better than to expect success yet. Smuggler facilities often had half a dozen, if not more, sublevels. Their initial scans had not shown any type of sublevel, but it was a well known fact that smugglers had means of hiding from scans. Hayes turned a final corner and reached his room. The walk had been longer than he would have preferred, but he was in no position to complain. The incident on LV-229 had rocked his career as well as Commander Canter's.
Failing to notice the low battery indicator on the screen, he tossed the radio on a table and laid down on a fold up cot. Mental images of the disaster at LV-229 raced through his head before he fell asleep. The indicator light on the radio began to blink rapidly before finally shutting off. It was of little concern to Captain Hayes, there would be other members of the Dantrol crew monitoring the progress of the mission.
".really need to wake up now!"
A heavy jolt rocked Hayes to consciousness. He looked up to see a very nervous face staring at him. He fluttered his eyes in the bright light, "What is it, Lieutenant?"
"The mission has been compromised, we can't maintain contact with the Marine team. Commander Canter has been instructed to make an emergency drop along with the backup team from the Argo to retrieve whoever may have survived."
Hayes began to sweat from his fear immediately, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Return to your post, I'll get to the bridge as quickly as possible."
Without another word, Hayes followed the nervous woman out of his room, completely forgetting his apparent lack of a shirt. He reached the bridge before realizing it was unnecessary for him to be there. Cursing, he turned around and ran towards the hanger. Grabbing a field jacket, he sprinted into the hanger and directly into the Dantrol's primary dropship. He ran to the cockpit and grabbed Canter's shoulder, "No way, Commander. We're taking the Hellbird."
"Already? We haven't had time to prep it for mission readiness yet."
"No time like now, Sarah. She doesn't need much of anything, anyway. She's brand new, she won't have any technical problems. All I'm concerned about is piloting a completely new dropship, think you're up to the task?"
Canter smiled and shouted, "Well shit! I'm up to it if you are, jackass!"
Hayes smiled in return, "Then suit up, pilot."
Sitting in the cockpit of a dropship no enlisted pilot had yet flown was more than slightly unnerving for both Canter and Hayes. Canter grabbed the control stick and twisted it to see how much it resisted. The controls were quite flexible, which would allow for as smooth a flight as possible.
The Hellbird was the brainchild of forty top scientists and engineers back on Earth. Fleet had asked for a vehicle to serve double duty as a personnel transporter, but also a war vessel. The Hellbird was finally realized after six years of planning and rough construction. Its sleek and elongated hull would allow tight navigation in combat situations, yet the design was still more than capable of making quick and effortless drops on a planet. The cockpit seated two operators, a pilot and a general operations officer. In combat, the ops officer would work as a gunner as well. The style was set so the ops officer sat behind the pilot, slightly raised in much the same way twenty-first century fighter jets were designed. A narrow and cramped passage allowed entry and exit of the cockpit into the innards of the vessel, which could hold up to twenty-five Marines or a fully stocked APC. Canter and Hayes gave themselves no time to comfortably situate before dropping out of the Dantrol. Hayes shouted to his partner, "So no big deal, we're testing her a little early is all!"
"We weren't supposed to test it until this mission was long over. Not to mention the fact that we weren't supposed to be using it for a life or death situation when we have no idea of what's going on!"
"It's going to work now just as well as it would later, so let's hope we were going to have a successful first test run."
"That is not helping."
"I didn't say I was trying to help. Besides, think about it, about the situation down there. We are up against a facility that is holding superior starfighters. We wouldn't stand a chance in those ancient dropships. The Hellbird is as good a chance as we're going to get if they decide to use one of those bastards against us." Canter said nothing, keeping herself focused on the task at hand. The Hellbird quickly descending towards the planet's surface, much faster than a standard dropship. She quickly spotted the landing area and efficiently dropped the vessel down onto the ground. She put the engine of the Hellbird into an idle state and looked back towards, Hayes, "So now what?"
"Move, soldier, move!"
Gunfire rang out in loud, short bursts. Sparks flew off of the walls as bullets ricocheted off the metal walls. The clinking noise of shells hitting the floor still managed to penetrate the immense sound of random explosions, sending chills down the spine of Corporal Polner as he ran. Followed closely after him was what remained of the Marine strike team sent to overtake the facility held by the smugglers. Six marines followed their new field leader, forced into the position by the untimely death of their commanding sergeant, as he led them top what he hoped was a clear exit. The bodies of the remaining twenty-four marines were going to remain there for the time being. Followed by the seven marines was a defense force the Colonial Marines never could have expected. The frightening whine of a minigun droned on in the distance while the clicking hum of pulse rifles continued to haunt the marines' ears. Polner listened in disgust as he heard the familiar sound of bullets ripping into human flesh, driving themselves into vital organs, successfully accomplishing their fatal mission. He looked back and saw two of his troops fall. He momentarily thought to stop and attempt to save whatever he could of their bodies, but soon realized the futility in such an action. Taking a different approach to the situation, he pulled a standard grenade from his gear, pulled the pin, and verbally executed a two count. He threw the grenade blindly over his head, easily clearing his team of marines. The sound of the explosion was of little satisfaction when he recalled how many enemies had engage his team. At most, he had eliminated two or three of his trigger happy stalkers, which would only slow down the remaining twenty as they attempted to step over the bodies. Polner's heart sank when he glanced back to find he had only injured one, who stumbled from the sharp pain in his leg. The feeling was only amplified when Polner realized they had enough men to spare two soldiers to stop and help their fallen comrade. Looking down to see a completely empty ammunition indicator sent another chill down his spine. Searching his gear for spare cartridges for his rifle, he found nothing but a broken transmitter and several pieces of chewing gum. His thoughts drifted to the taste of the gum, easing his tension and allowing his mind to escape the pain from the bullets that entered his leg. As Polner fell to the ground, unable to move his leg beyond a light twitch, he thought of his family back on Earth. His eyes closed as he sensed the oncoming footsteps of the mercenary attack squad behind him. He cursed himself for ever enlisting in the service, twenty-five was no age to die at. As he slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the last sound he heard was a steady stream of bullets zipping through the air above him. Bullets too repetitive for a pulse rifle, it had to be a minigun. Yet the bullets were streaming the wrong way. Polner calmly lost consciousness understanding that his backup had arrived. He knew his troops were going to be saved.
"Polner's down, Polner's down!"
"I heard you, get on the floor, now!"
"What the hell are you.?"
Private Jundas leapt to the floor as he saw the rocket launcher atop a Colonial Marine's shoulder. A streak of smoke was all Jundas saw before a brilliant flash of light and the sound of an explosion rocked the hallway he was in. He heard scream of pain coming from the wall of smoke well behind him. He heard another rocket launch before seeing two Marines sprint into the facility to recover his fallen partner, Polner. Standing up, Jundas readied his rifle and ran into the smoke. He stopped as he saw the Marines dragging Polner's lifeless body towards him. Bullet holes streaked with fresh blood covered his right leg and a small portion of his lower back. In his firmly clamped left hand, Polner held a small pack of chewing gum. Jundas gagged as he saw the package of gum covered up by a thin layer of crusted blood. The Marines dragged Polner's body out into the open air of the planet as they left the compound through a large cargo door. Jundas followed to see two dropships waiting for them. The remaining Marines of the primary strike team assembled themselves and boarded the dropship, only glancing back to their fallen comrades. Jundas looked at them in shame, feeling nothing but a strong sense of pity for his team. No Marine team had left so many people behind since some mission constantly referred to by older troops. It was a large operation that took place on LV-462, in the Hadley's Hope facility. The entire mission was maintained as 'Investigation AD: 7'. The validity of an investigation that concluded an area was completely normal is somewhat questionable when the area is put under total quarantine two weeks later. More rumors circulated even more when all of the colonists failed to return to Earth on their stated vacation dates. The general opinion held by most citizens was a total lack of concern. Those that bothered to involve themselves in the news of the Hadley's Hope facility rarely gave it a second thought. Jundas remembered an interview that was made approximately one year after the rumors of the events on LV-462 began circulating. The interview focused on a captain of a supply ship that was never given the news of the planet's quarantine. The interview itself took place over transmitted audio, no personal contact was ever made. The captain kept describing mysterious smells and sounds he had experienced while on the planet's surface. The transmission had been cut before any substantial information could be given, pressing most critics to believe the man was a fraud. The entire mission was soon held under that title, a fraud. Many believed it was a ploy by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation to generate sympathy and hopefully bring in new employees. Some believed it was a ploy by the United States government to bring in new troops to their Colonial Marine divisions. Some thought it was just another tabloid story similar to that of Roswell or the batboy. Jundas looked back to the facility again and cursed under his breath, "Fuck 'em. I got my own life to live."
All the Marines present boarded the dropship and fired several more rockets into the gut of the facility. On the other side of the structure, the Hellbird sat as its engine hummed steadily.
"Are they going to."
A raspy voice on the static-filled transmitter interrupted Canter, ".all recovered. prep for take. standing. why aren't we."
Canter stared, unblinking, at the console as its transmission continued, ".why not? Well. anyway. now. three degrees to the left! No you need to. shit! Pull back and stand by for rocket. fire. down, repeat. we are."
The transmission abruptly ended with one last bit of intense yelling and what sounded like a missile launch. Canter grabbed the stick and lifted the Hellbird off the ground. Typically, Hayes would have objected to a sudden course of action such as this, but she heard no argument this time. She piloted the ship towards the south end of the facility and jabbed several buttons in hastened frustration. A console popped up in front of Hayes, signaling the ship's readiness for combat. Hayes pressed several buttons and charged the ventrally mounted turret on the Hellbird. As the ship cleared a large rise in the facility, they saw flaming wreckage scattered across the ground. Bodies were strewn around the metal in twisted positions, as if rag dolls had been thrown from the ship rather than humans. The sight invoked disgust for both Canter and Hayes, which quickly changing into fear as they saw the starfighters make a pass over the wreckage. Canter jammed the stick to the left and swung the Hellbird to port, giving Hayes as good a shot as he was going to get. The turret fired instantly and true, striking the closer of the starfighters with extreme intensity. The fighter began to shake violently, but remained on course, a course that was bound to change in the next second. The rhetoric prediction became true as the two starfighters altered their direction and began to fly straight for the Hellbird. Hayes took the opportunity of a straight on target and fired a missile. The immense explosion signaled a successful hit to Hayes. He smiled as the nimble fighter fell to the ground below. The Hellbird swung wildly as Canter went for a rounding pass, jolting Hayes and causing him to lose the lock on the second fighter. He swung the turret towards the ship and fired with little mercy. Sparks flew from the fighter's hull and Hayes watched in horror as the sparks began to get closer at an extremely quick velocity. The fighter had fired a missile and Hayes was now shooting it. He held the trigger down and hoped the missile would be destroyed or at least strayed from its course. His hopes died and he watched the missile ram into the aft section of the Hellbird. There was no explosion, only an extremely strong jolt and a minor case of whiplash for Canter. Hayes worried that the missile was set for a timed reaction, but it did nothing. It was of no concern how it happened this way, only that it did. Canter swung the ship again and gave Hayes another clear shot. The maneuver was successful, confirmed by the missile launch from, the Hellbird, sending the other fighter to the ground in flames.
"I'd say we had as good a test run as possible!"
Canter laughed wildly and screamed, "I'm buying drinks tonight you bastard!"
Canter noticed the indication on her console's proximity radar and realized one of the dropships had been able to escape. She took the Hellbird alongside the ship and escorted it back to its carrier. Realizing it would have some spare room, she brought the Hellbird to the Turuga's hanger bay and engaged the docking procedures. As soon as the process was completed, she removed her flight helmet and wiped the tears from her eyes before Hayes could see anything.
The billowing steam from the pipes worked in conjunction with the hissing from broken vales to create an atmosphere of total comfort for a creature of a particular nature. With temperatures high above those of human comfort, most animals would avoid such an area. Yet they found it relaxing after the noise and confusion caused by the day's events. Sensing the broken cryo-tubing gave the creatures a primordial sense of satisfaction. The smell of blood penetrated their brains overpowering everything else as they slowly removed themselves from the bodies of their hosts. High pitched screeching and whining filled the air, drowning out the sound of the hissing pipes. The sound of ripping flesh came soon afterwards, as the creatures began to devour what remained of their hosts. A strong instinct to eat as much as possible overcame what logical thinking they possessed at the time. As the gruesome feast ended, the creatures found various escape routes from what was their prison, broken air ducts, holes in the wall, the open door leading to the halls. A computer console nearby read:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twelve pods compromised.
The console changed to a crimson red pulse as it displayed a new message every few seconds:
Warning: One specimen absent.
Warning: Three specimens absent.
Warning: Seven specimens absent.
Warning: Twelve specimens absent.
A pulse rifle fell to the floor as the last creature exited the room. The bloody arm of one of the mercenaries dangled gently in the air, hanging from a body that appeared to have no apparent injury. The computer console once again changed:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twenty pods compromised.
Slender snakelike legs extended from a metal encasement as a slimy noise signaled the opening of an organic object inside. The container sat next to eight others, one of which was already clearly opened. The remaining creatures quickly exited the protection of their eggs and began to escape the room as easily as their partners had only moments before. One creature climbed up the body of the mercenary towards an air duct near the ceiling. It treaded lightly as it climbed over one of its own, already secured to the face of the mercenary. It scurried away as its comrade took in air and released it, breathing for itself and its prey as it began the implantation process. The computer changed once more:
Warning: Cryo-stasis interrupted. Twenty pods compromised.
Warning: Nineteen specimens absent.