Specialist Darren Burke rested his C-10 Canister Rifle across his legs, resting his head against the bulkhead of the dropship. He had a mission to complete, and he was going to make sure that nothing got in his way of completing it. "Hey, you back there!" the pilot shouted over the roar of the engines. "ETA 2 minutes to the drop-off point. You got everything you need?" In answer, Burke simply waved his hand towards the cockpit, knowing that the pilot would catch the motion. Righting his Rifle along side him, he pulled his customized battle visor more snugly over his eyes, making sure that everything was secure and working. Nothing could go wrong on this mission, not if he truly wanted the war to end. Looking out one of the scratched, dusty, grimy windows, he could vaguely make out the Antigan landscape. It was arid and rocky, with many tall cliffs and steep ravines. There were many excellent hiding spots along the path to his target, which he did his best to take note of while flying above them. Pulling his view to the left slightly, he was able to make out a very small, very compact Terran base hidden within the hills. At the same time, the pilot began to drop altitude and turn towards the small base. The time had come. Darren made one last check of his gear in an attempt to quell his nerves, but it didn't help. A minute later, he jumped out of the dropship and landed on the ground several feet below as expertly as he could. He attempted to hide his nervous shaking as he got up, but only one person had seemed to notice his entry.
"So you're the one they sent, huh?" A grizzled-looking marine with many decorative and important-looking badges on his armor said as he approached Burke. "You're the one they chose to drop the hammer on those Fed bastards, yeah?" Burke nodded stiffly, still fighting to keep his nerves at bay. "Well, the SCV's won't be finished with construction on the 'package' for a few minutes, so why don't you get some rest before you 'make the delivery'?" He chuckled, obviously amused by his own jokes, and began to stroll away. Burke shuddered a bit, inwardly gagging at the polite ignorance of the hardened marine. He had no idea of the power and destruction, the wrath, that Darren was about to direct upon the Confederacy. He decided it would be best if he went off to a secluded part of the base, so that the thoughts of those around him would not become an annoyance. He marched off, searching with his keen eyes for a place where he might rest.
He did not have long to rest, though, for shortly afterwards, he received a transmission from the marine who he'd talked to earlier. "Specialist, it's ready. Get your ass on the move, soldier. I want you ready to drop that thing in six minutes." Six minutes, Darren thought. He must be out of his damn mind. Nonetheless, he began hustling towards the eastern edge of the camp, and the wastelands that lay beyond.
Scrambling over the rocky wastes of Antiga Prime, Burke tried his best to retain a swift pace while moving silently and leaving little evidence of his passing. Checking the clock on his HUD, which was uplinked to his unit's main computer and would set itself to the correct format for any planet automatically, he saw that he only had three minutes left to get within range of his target. Hurry up, Darren, he mentally smacked himself. Picking up his pace slightly, he crested a rise and saw the immense steel walls of the enemy base only a few hundred yards off. Not much further now, he thought. As he ran, he gradually let his thoughts slip into the past, back to when he had been taken from his home, his family, his life, and inducted into a special "training program" for "gifted individuals" living on Confederate worlds. He had been tortured, misguided, and finally beaten into submission, all as part of the Confederacy's malicious Ghost training program. He was not proud of what he had become, but he was skilled with his powers and not ashamed to use them against his former masters.
Pulling out of his reflection, Burke noticed that he had arrived at his destination. Stopping momentarily to catch his breath, he unstrapped his Rifle from his back and flipped a switch on it. He heard a click and a buzz, which he knew meant the firing mechanism had been disabled and that the laser-targeting system was online. Focusing his psionic energies in order to power his personal cloaking field, he leveled his Rifle with the wall of the enemy base, and pressed another button on it. It began sending a silent transmission to the base he had just left six minutes ago. The hammer was falling.
He began to count to himself. 1… 2… 3… don't lose track of the time… 9… 10… 11… As he approached twenty, he dropped his Rifle and dove behind a nearby boulder, pinching his eyes shut and burying his face in his arms. No matter what he did, though, the blinding whiteness always came. It always came, silently and without warning, because it preceded the impending explosion and wall of sound. And so it was this time, too, as the inside of his head suddenly became blindingly and painfully white. He dug his face into the dirt behind the boulder, attempting to hide from the painful brightness, but it was to no avail. As he sat, writhing, the first shockwave came. It thundered low along the ground, smashing into the boulder at its base, and knocking Darren back several feet. Still unable to see, he whimpered softly when exposed to the sheer awesomeness of what he had unleashed. It was not over yet, though, and he did his best to prepare for what came next.
Mere seconds after the first shockwave hit, another one came, this time bearing with it the intense heat of the explosion. As it passed over him, knocking him back with even greater force, he could feel the heat searing his flesh to the comfortable fabric in-lay of his armor. His eyebrows began to singe inside his visor and he could feel his boots melding with the surface of the earth below him. Several chunks of the boulder he had been cowering behind now tumbled onto him, and he yelped as they burned his skin. Suddenly it seemed as if Hell had decided to spare him, as the entire landscape fell quiet, save for a faint roar in the distance. Still mostly blind, Darren attempted to stand, but only succeeded in placing his hand in a pile of searing rock and burning himself. Shaking his hand furiously and rubbing his eyes vigorously in order to restore his vision, Darren peered dimly at the landscape around him. Even though the aftermath of what he had done was not a new experience for him, the drastic change in the landscape still shocked him. Every plant growing on the surface of the ridge had been either burned up or shriveled to a crisp by the intense heat. Rock outcroppings had been shattered by the shockwaves, and the parts of the outcroppings which were hit directly by the second shockwave had smoking black marks all across them. The landscape around him was in ruin, but Darren knew it was nothing compared to ground zero.
Wheezing painfully as he sat up, Darren fumbled for his radio. He wanted badly to take of his visor, but he knew that it was the only thing keeping him alive in the now-hostile environment. Instead, he turned on the internal coolant system, which to his surprise still worked, and tried to remember which channel on his transmitter was the command channel. When he finally chose the correct channel, he coughed out, "This is… Spe- specialist Darren Burke. The… launch of the Tactical N-nuke has been successful. Re- requesting immedia… immediate evac. at co-ordinates… 47.5 N-NE, 12 W. Specialist Burke, out." Having completed his mission, Darren passed out on top of the ridge, knowing that his evac and a cold glass of water were only minutes away.
"Ma'am, we've just received a transmission from Specialist Burke," the Comm. Sgt. Said as he turned to face his CO. "The package was delivered successfully. We're sending evac. for him right away, though I don't think he'll survive very long, even with his Hostile Environment suit."
Major Sgt. Manda Garret looked at the Comm Sgt. Sternly. "No, we won't be sending evac. We need all of our dropships prepped and ready to fly. The success of our mission hinges on how fast we can get into their base after the nuke is delivered. Every second we waste is one second closer we come to failing the entire mission." The Comm Sgt. Stared dumbly at his CO, taken aback at her cruelty and lack of compassion.
"But.. but.. ma'am, he'll die out there! With all due respect, I'm appalled at your actions!"
"Be as horrified as you like, the success of this mission is too vital to our ultimate goal of winning the war to be jeopardized by the life of one Ghost Operative." Considering the matter closed for discussion, she rose from her seat and promptly left the room.
Drake was sitting at a table inside a bunker, playing cards with a few of his friends from his unit, when a huge shockwave hit the bunker, denting it and knocking their table over. "What was tha-" Drake began to say, but one of the other marines shouted, "Hit the deck!" Not waiting to find out why, Drake did so. Several seconds later, the roof of the bunker was blown off by an even larger shockwave, and an intense wall of heat hit the men in the bunker. Drake's world went white. He grabbed at his eyes, trying to clear them, but the intense heat prevented him from touching them for very long. Raising his voice to a shout over the roar, he asked the marine next to him, "What's going on!"
A voice sounded in his ear, much closer than he expected. "No way to tell for sure just yet, but if I had to guess, I'd say we've been nuked. Best thing to do is turtle down in here and wait for reinforcements to come." Slowly, painfully, the whiteness in Drake's eyes receded, and the shockwave passed over them, leaving them to sit and lick their wounds. "You think the Sons did it?" someone asked. Everyone knew the answer, though, so nobody bothered to answer him. Drake looked outside, and saw a roiling red cloud billowing up into the sky in the north.
"If that cloud drifts this way," one of the marines commented, "we're gonna have to high-tail it outta here. That's pure radioactive fallout. Trust me, you don't want to be caught in a cloud of that shit." The silence resumed among them then, as they all reflected on what they had just experienced, and how lucky they were to have survived it. Drake looked down at his leg, feeling a dull throbbing. Grimacing, he saw that a piece of metal was imbedded deeply into the calf. One of the other marines noticed it.
"Just a flesh wound, kid. Soon as this rolls over, we'll get ya down to a medic station and get that cleaned up. You're lucky it didn' hit the bone, though."
Drake looked out into the dusky sky again. Is it really dusky? He thought. Or is that red cloud just tainting the sky and changing its color? He thought he heard a faint buzzing coming from the west, but he dismissed it as a hallucination due to the wound in his leg. A minute later, though, the buzzing had intensified into a low drone, now distinctively emanating from the western horizon. "Anyone else hear that noise?" Drake asked nervously.
"Yeah, I hear it," a marine grunted nervously. "Get yer weapons ready, boys. Looks like we may see some action yet." Drake took a firm hold on his Gauss Rifle and tried to find a comfortable position among the debris. The other marines moved in front of him, protecting their fallen comrade. As the drone grew in volume, the marine commented again. "Dropships. Lots of em. Don't know what those bastards are up to, but I definetly don't like it."
They waited silently, already knowing their fate, and knowing there was nothing they could do to stop it from happening. Several minutes passed, and Drake could feel the sweat dripping down his neck. The pain in his leg had increased, but he forced himself to ignore it. Suddenly, the marine next to him started. "Shit!" he said loudly. "They've got Wraiths! Hide!" Drake did his best to scramble into the corner of the bunker and conceal himself, though he did not know yet what he was hiding from. Soon, though, he heard the high-pitched whine of jet engines, and what seemed to be several silhouettes ripped through the sky above him. They're cloaked, he thought. The marines around him began to emerge from their cover, and Drake began to follow suit. Suddenly, a single silhouette slashed through the sky above them, this time heading back to the west.
"Damn it!" one of the marines shouted. "Now they know we're here! Pray, boys, pray for your lives!" Drake loaded a fresh clip into his gun, not knowing what would happen next.
Surprisingly, nothing happened. Well, not right away, at least. Everything around them seemed locked in an eerie calm. The only thing that changed was the ever-increasing noise of the dropships approaching them. In what seemed like seconds, the dropships were upon them, and Drake was being held at gunpoint by a very angry, very energetic marine. "You have a choice to make, marine!" The soldier in red armor shouted at him. "Either come up into this dropship with us, or die on the spot!" Drake could tell that he was completely serious, and looking around, he found that his comrades were all in similar situations. At a unanimous nod from the senior officer in the group, they all answered yes. Noticing the wound in Drake's leg, the soldier who had previously been interrogating him now helped him to climb up into the dropship. Secure in his seat, Drake closed his eyes and tried to ignore the roar of the engines. He wanted nothing more in the world right now than to fall asleep.
Major Sgt. M. Garret turned swiftly as somebody hurried through her office door. "Dammit, haven't I told you people to knock!" she roared, seeing that it was only an aide.
"Uh, yes, ma'am, but I was told to report to you immediately that the operation has been completely successful." He stood nervously, twitching in front of her wrath. She sighed and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. He scuttled out of her cramped office, leaving her to brood. Well, Manda, she thought. Looks like you haven't done too bad for yourself. This should be the final blow for those Feds. And you'll probably have a promotion in store for yourself. She mentally jarred herself, and attempted to focus on the paperwork in front of her. She'd worry about her reward later.
For a moment, though, she paused, and remembered the man that she had left out in the wastes to die. The man who had faithfully followed his orders, never knowing that he would be betrayed. In a way, part of her pondered, that sounds just like something the Confederacy would do. No, this was different! She feebly attempted to convince herself. I had to sacrifice him for the success of the mission! She was not sure that was true, though. Did you? That same nagging part of her asked. Or was it malice that directed your actions back there? Are you no better than the Confederate scum which you escaped from those years ago? She covered her ears and squinted her eyes shut, trying to shut out the voice. No! Go away! You're lying! I'm nothing like them! But the voice persisted. You're more alike than you think…
She swept her hand across her desk, smashing the coffee cup that was on it into the ground. It shattered, and the noise brought an aide running into the room. "Didn't I tell you to knock, damn it!" she screamed at him. He ran fearfully from the room, leaving her to fume and clean up the coffee from the floor.
Darren Burke blinked slowly, forcing his eyes open through the ashy crust that had formed around them. He tried to swallow, but found that his throat was too parched and dry for it to function properly. He tried to move, but found that the slightest shift caused his body to be racked with pain. Shit, he thought. What happened to my evac? He coughed weakly and looked forlornly at the sky. Is this how I'm gonna die? Melting out here in this wasteland? Darren didn't exactly like the idea of that, but he didn't see how he was going to get out alive. He was stranded in the middle of a radioactive warzone. He had no evac, no supplies, and could barely move.
Well, he thought, I really don't have much to live for anyways. Just another mindless grunt workin' in the dirt. Nobody'll miss me. He chuckled morbidly. No, another part of him said. She would miss you. And he knew that was true. But what was he going to do? How could he possibly survive and return to her? He couldn't, and he knew it. With the last of his fading sanity, he realized this, and slowly the world around him faded into blackness.