[21/5/2056]
FOB - Red Zone 7
Lewis inspected the new faceplate of his helmet. The fabricators at Fort Triumph had done a fine job blending the replacement patches with the GDI-issued materials. As he ran a gloved hand over the reflective surface, he felt only a slight ridge where the two parts had been joined.
In exchange for repair and resupply of his taskforce, Lewis dispatched a team of engineers to Fort Triumph to repair its defences, and install railgun emplacements to replace the ruined Obelisk of Light. Hopefully that gesture of good faith would be enough to earn Fields' forgiveness for almost dooming his settlement.
Lewis donned the helmet. As it sealed around his neck, internal displays lit up across the faceplate. A notification of an incoming transmission jumped at the corner of his view. He blinked at the icon to accept the transmission. General Granger's rough-hewn face appeared on his display.
"Commander Lewis, it's good to see you're still among the living," he said by way of greeting. "Were you successful in locating Commander Jackson's taskforce?"
"Yes, sir, but it's not good news. We found fifty three casualties at the Forward Operating Base and surrounding area. Commander Jackson and his command staff were not among the deceased."
Granger took the news soberly, nodding as Lewis laid out the fates of the soldiers they'd found.
"And there's something else, sir. We were attacked by an unknown enemy. I'm not sure what it was, but it was fast, and strong, and clearly had an affinity with Tiberium. We thought the mutants might be to blame at first, but whatever this thing is, it was hostile to them too. The militia at Fort Triumph assisted us in repelling the entity. " Lewis uploaded the glitchy footage they had been able to recover from the drones. Granger's frown deepened.
"This is very concerning. It doesn't look like Nod was behind the attacks after all. In your opinion, Commander, what are we facing?"
Lewis had had his theories from the moment they faced the creature. He was almost certain of its true nature, but it felt like saying them out loud would cement his fears into reality. He sighed.
"I think it's the Invaders, sir. The physiology, the materials, the command of ion storms, it all matches what we saw during the Invasion."
Granger nodded gravely.
"I feared as much. Recover what you can of the hostile. I'll have the labs in Zone 15 analyse it. Hopefully they'll be able to tell us more about what we're facing.
"In the meantime Commander, I'm authorising priority requisition powers for your taskforce. I want you to scour the Zone for any other hostiles of this nature. If we are facing the vanguard of a second invasion, we need to be on the front foot. Any assets you need, they're yours."
Lewis considered the proposal. He was going up against a possibly extra-terrestrial foe, with an extreme resilience and the ability to manipulate the forces of nature. He'd need more than rifles and rockets to take down whatever was lurking deeper in the Zone,
"I need a RAID team," he declared.
[22/5/2056]
FOB - Red Zone 7
Lieutenant Terrence leant over the fragments of the hostile that Commander Lewis had brought in. The team who had recovered the remains had laid it out in something approximating humanoid proportions. It looked like someone's attempt to recreate a person from industrial tailings.
Calling the remains a "body" was too generous. There were pieces of curved material that resembled insectoid carapaces, or opalescent sea shells. A bundle of viscera that resembled black ribbed piping trailed from its midsection. Fragments of crystalline dust were scattered across the slab the whole grisly arrangement was laid on.
The skin, if the hard surface could be called that, was unlike that of any earthly creature. It was glassy and black, lit from within by a pulsing blue radiance, even in its shattered state. Terrence thought it looked as if someone had bottled lightning.
The creature's torso and one of the tendril-like arms had survived the firefight. The appendage tapered to a fine point, like a crystalline spear. Its shape was switchbacked, with multiple joints along its substantial length. Its crystalline head had split in half. Terrence couldn't tell which of the features were a mouth, eyes, or even a brain. It was deeply, irrevocably inhuman in its physiology. She stared deep into its facets, as if she could unearth its secrets through force of will.
Her gaze was still boring into the remnants of the head when a team of soldiers entered the makeshift morgue. They were clad in sterile, white paper suits. "Alright, say goodbye to your dearly departed, L.T. We gotta box this one up sir; the eggheads in Vik want their alien to go." Terrence flashed a grin at the soldiers in response to their black humour. It felt forced, but they didn't seem to notice as they went about placing each piece of the entity into labelled boxes. As they worked, her gaze fell over the body on the next slab over. Private Walker was little more than a charred black skeleton.
Terrence quickly turned away from the grizzly sight, and stumbled out of the morgue, into the base proper.
In the aftermath of the battle at Fort Triumph, the storm over the zone had begun to clear. The sun that shone over the base was almost warm and welcoming, though filtered through a pall of atmospheric pollutants. The Forward Operating Base had been revitalised. The centre of the base had been cleared of debris, and a fresh concrete slab laid. The area was serving as a landing pad for a succession of aircraft, and a staging area for the next stage of the task force's operations.
A steady stream of supplies from orbit, and the West Coast bases, had allowed them to fortify the previously ruined base. Terrence felt a lot more secure with a dozen railgun emplacements atop their armoured towers, watching the surrounding landscape. Jackson had all of that, and it didn't save him.
The roar of descending VTOL jets interrupted that train of thought. A blocky transport craft had dropped from the sky, held aloft by its four corner-mounted engines. The concrete pad beneath Terrence's feet rumbled as the behemoth touched down on claw-footed landing gear. The roar of the engines shifted into a whir as they spun down, and was superseded by a grinding sound from deep within the craft. Terrence watched, transfixed, as the craft unfolded itself like a giant, metal origami. The metal panels that made up its boxy cargo bay had begun to move, folding outwards till they touched the tarmac, and formed a smooth ramp from the central platform.
Sitting on the platform was a pair of heavy vehicles. At first she thought they were antique treaded tanks, but their turrets were too large and not of the right proportions. The equipment fitted to the vehicles looked like it belonged in a lab, rather than mounted on a tank. A heavy bank of batteries was mounted at the rear of the chassis. Thick black cables connected the metal casings to the back of a swivelling turret which was riddled with protrusions Terrence couldn't hope to guess the purpose of. Instead of a cylindrical barrel, the turret ended in a parabolic dish that resembled a satellite antenna.
A hand clapped her shoulder and made Terrence tense up. She turned to see her commanding officer smiling through his newly-repaired visor. She snapped to attention, her boot heels squeaking against the concrete.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Lewis commanded. "I see you're admiring our new toys." Lewis said.
"Yes sir. Looks like some heavy firepower."
"They sure are; sonic disruptor tanks. I called them in to deal with our new friends. These things can bring down Alien Tripods."
Terrence whistled in awestruck admiration; this was some serious artillery. The two vehicles were plastered with a dizzying rainbow of hazard signs; radiation hazard, internal trauma, "this end towards target". The standard munitions crates sitting beside them looked thoroughly mundane in comparison. Lewis must have seen the direction of her gaze, because he chuckled, and strode across the landing pad to open one of the metal cases. Terrence followed him. Within the crates were thousands of tiny foam cylinders in plastic packaging. Terrence looked at her commander inquisitively.
"Ear plugs, sir?"
Lewis grinned as he slapped the side of the sonic tank. "This bad boy will liquify your brains if you're not careful."
Terrence grimaced, and plucked a plastic packet from the crate, stowing it in a pocket of her combat vest.
"Where are we taking these beasts, sir?"
"You're just about to find out; I'm on my way to brief the platoon leaders."
Lieutenants Fuller, Ruiz, and a handful of junior officers and technicians were gathered in the inflated habitat that served as the FOB's command centre. They all saluted Lewis as he and Terrence entered the tent-like structure. Among them was a man she didn't recognise, clad in white ceramic armour. He was olive-skinned, with short black hair and the blue shadow of stubble across his cheeks. He was looking around the room with a dour expression. Beside him, similarly armoured in pale plating, was a young-looking woman, with dark hair pulled back into a severe bun.
A fold-out screen had been laid out across a field table. Its soft glow illuminated the assembled officers from below in shades of blue. Terrence approached the display, and saw a wireframe of the dried up river network rising above the surface. A bespectacled man was hunched over it, muttering to himself as he manipulated the display.
"At ease," Lewis instructed the officers. Terrence fell in between the other Lieutenants she recognised from Bravo Company. Lewis took his position at the head of the table, and launched into his briefing with no preamble.
"Most of you are already familiar with the creature we encountered, but for those who aren't, this is what we're facing."
Lewis waved a hand towards the display. A fragmented silhouette of a dark figure rose up from the screen. The software had tried its hardest to extrapolate the creature's shape from a handful of incomplete freeze frames. The result was a blocky form that was barely more intact than the body Terrence had just witnessed lying on the slab. Nonetheless, she repressed a shudder; there was something chillingly inhuman about it.
"The entity, which we have categorised as 'Unknown Hostile 1', is of unknown origin. At the moment, we are assuming it's non-terrestrial." It was a testament to the discipline of the assembled officers that they gave little sign of disturbance at this pronouncement.
"Our main objective is to determine UH1's origins, ascertain if there are others like it, and if so, eliminate them. Secondary objectives are to seize the site and obtain samples of living UH1 entities, if safe to do so. Recovery of Peele's team, while unlikely, is considered a desirable tertiary objective."
"UH1 appears to have moved through the river canyon, before surfacing south of the FOB." A red blip appeared at the foot of the mesa, beneath a 3D rendering of the base. "Tracking ion activity over the 24 hours prior to the attack gives us this;"
The red dot traced a path along the rambling course of the riverbed, until it halted upstream at a small promontory that had once flowed from a hilly region to the north-east.
"This is where UH1 appears to have originated."
Terrence furrowed her brow. Something was nagging at the back of her mind.
"Isn't that Zone Captain Peele's last known location?" she asked slowly. Lewis nodded gravely.
"That's correct. It's likely that Captain Peele discovered UH1's point of origin, or at least its current base of operations. Judging from the aftermath, he seems to have kicked the proverbial hornet's nest. We caught a taste of what that bastard can do, and we can't afford to step into another meat grinder. If it wasn't for Fort Triumph's Obelisk, Lieutenant Terrence would likely be giving this briefing right now."
Terrence felt the gazes of everyone in the tent swing her way. She swallowed, and fought to keep her expression neutral.
"Unfortunately, the Obelisk is now smoking rubble, and not on wheels in either case. Luckily for us, we have another source of firepower; I'm sure you've seen the sweet new rides in the parking lot." Lewis grinned, and a ripple of laughter went around the room.
"The sonic tanks outside are on loan from the 2nd Experimental Tank Division, based out of Ensenada. They're our ace in the hole for this mission. Sonic weapons proved effective against Alien forces in the Third Tiberium War. But if we are facing a more mundane threat, anything organic that gets in front of these bad boys will be scrambled regardless."
The assembled officers chuckled again. Lewis stepped back from the display, and held out an arm to indicate the severe-looking woman to his right.
"This is Captain Gallagher and Lieutenant Vega of the Rapid Assault and Intercept Division. They will be taking point on this mission."
Captain Gallagher nodded in acknowledgement. The dour-faced man merely stared around the room, his mouth set in a firm line. They certainly played the part of unshakeable commandos well, but would they make the difference if they came face to face with actual, honest-to-god Aliens? Terrence wasn't sure anything wou
"Bravo Company," Lewis turned to address Lieutenant Terrence, interrupting her mildly mutinous musings. "I want you to post your sniper teams up on this plateau to the north of the FOB. Sky Sentry isn't forecasting any major ion storm activity in the region for the next few days, but I want as many sets of eyes on our advance in case we lose contact with the drones again."
"Yessir," Terrence replied. "And the rest of Bravo Company?" She was fully anticipating that Lewis would bench her unit, after the losses they'd sustained recapturing the base.
Lewis gave a grim smile.
"You'll be in the thick of it. The forward elements will be the bait. We'll move through the river valleys, and secure each ridge as we advance." Lewis highlighted a series of rilles on the map. "The disruptor tanks will move up behind, and set up a shooting gallery. If you do encounter hostiles, do not engage; immediately fall back to your designated positions. Hopefully, this will draw them into the crossfire, but if this tactic fails to draw out the enemy, RAID Team Eagle will be on hand to sweeten the deal."
Lewis turned to address the RAID commandos now.
"From my experience, the enemy is not repulsed by superior firepower, so you will be acting as a stick, not the carrot. Be prepared for pushback."
A slight smile touched the corners of Vega's mouth; the first overt sign of emotion he'd displayed. He seemed to relish the prospect of 'pushback' from a possibly Alien killing machine. These RAID types better be as hard as their reputation, or we'll be stepping back into the meat grinder.
—
Yakima River Basin
Ensconced within her protective helmet, Terrence should have felt safer than she did. She couldn't be exposed to the corrupted soil and toxic air while she was wearing it, which should have been a reassurance. Instead, she felt a sense of claustrophobia. Every breath she took echoed around the confined space, and her pulse beat a rapid rhythm against her ribs.
It was no less nerve-wracking to traverse the sunken channels of the river banks in broad daylight than it had been under the cover of the ion storm. If anything, the glare of sunlight on the rocks only illuminated more crevices for an ambushing force to emerge from. Every oddly shaped outcropping of rock looked like a potential sniper when silhouetted against the glare of the white sky.
"Hold," an unfamiliar voice issued through the radio. "Sensor ping, five hundred feet west." Terrence froze on the spot, scanning for hostiles. An eerie silence settled over the canyon, broken only by the whistling of wind. She glanced at the transmission ID: Lt. R. Vega. The Lieutenant frowned. Was Eagle Team privy to intelligence that the rest of them weren't receiving? The thought rankled her to no end. These split chains of command are gonna get us killed.
The white-armoured forms of the Commandos were barely visible against the sun-soaked rock as they crawled to the lip of the river valley. They gestured among themselves, and jerked their heads as if silently conversing. After several nerve-wracking minutes, another voice cut through the silence. "Ping is stationary, let's m-"
A blast of light that outshone the sun lanced out across the horizon. Where the soldier had been, only a smear of ash and a pair of smoking remained. The sight would have been darkly comical, if not for the ten inches of shin bone protruding from them. Terrence felt the shock seeping through her body like a cold flood, but she fought her instinct to stand and gape, and threw herself down into the dirt. A white shape went blazing past her; one of the RAID Commandos tumbling backward in a rocket-assisted somersault.
A private was standing beside her, gawping in shock. Terrence slapped the man's boot and dragged him down to the ground. "Stay low!" she hissed. The young soldier nodded, his eyes darting frantically behind his semi-translucent faceplate.
A second sharp crack of electricity galvanised Terrence into action. She barked over her platoon's channel; "Fall back to Rally Point Delta!" She pushed herself up into a low crouch. Powdery dust clung to her gloves and boots as she awkwardly scurried between the shelter of various outcroppings of rock. She hoped the soldiers under her command would take the initiative and follow.
"Watch out!" An unfamiliar voice barked in her ear. Terrence's head snapped around in the direction of the sound, and she found herself face to face with a RAID Commando. Anonymous behind their face-concealing helmet, the Commando flung themself up into the air on a column of rocket-propelled fire. The pyrotechnic display was answered by a barrage of lightning from the top of the ridge. The white-suited commando danced through the air, their manoeuvring thrusters kicking them clear of the crackling arcs of energy.
The Commando hung in the air for a moment, and raised their blocky, multi-barreled weapon. Tiny points of light shot from it, trailing thin strands of vapour behind them. Then, the hillside lit up with white fire.
Terrence was knocked flat a second time by the shockwave. She slammed into the ground and felt her breath punched out of her lungs. Pellets of pulverised rock rained down around her as she lay there gasping. The cloud of white phosphorus roiled into the sky, shedding a brilliant light that briefly outshone the sun.
A black silhouette emerged from the centre of the inferno. White flames licked its glossy black exoskeleton, but it strode through them undeterred. Its shape was vaguely humanoid, but its limbs were long and spindly, and bent in inhuman ways. Terrence looked into the crystalline curves that formed its head, and saw a vivid blue glow pulsing within. The light grew in intensity as she watched, and quickly became painful to look at. A rising hum that Terrence felt in her guts accompanied the growing bloom of light.
"Move!" she shouted, and leapt to her feet. Her platoon abandoned cautious retreat, and sprinted full speed through the desiccated river valley. An explosion of light followed them, carrying a wave of dust from the canyon floor. Terrence felt a wave of heat rush past her, and her strides slowed agonisingly, as if in trying to run in a nightmare. She glanced down at her feet, and saw the soles of her boots had melted, and were clinging to the ground in thick, rubbery strands.
There was a yelp from a young Private to Terrence's right. He was similarly stuck in place, and was helplessly fumbling with his bootstraps, trying to pull himself free. Terrence lurched towards him with torturously slow strides, and tried to help the young man free. There was a faint fluttering sound, followed by clattering impacts along the canyonside. The young man flung his head back and roared in pain. Terrence clapped a hand to her side as something sharp and stung her. It came away wet with blood.
The young soldier had fared much worse; thousands of glowing shards had torn through his back, shredding his uniform and flesh in equal measure. Ribbons of glistening muscle hung limply from exposed bones, and blood pulsed in thick geysers over his legs, cascading over his boots, where it was thirstily drunk up by the dry riverbed.
The man's wails of pain echoed in Terrence's ears, joining with the pounding of her heart to create a sick, visceral melody. She gritted her teeth, and gripped the stock of her rifle firmly.
"Butler, get Peters free and out of the kill zone," she shouted to her second in command. The heavyset man dashed forward, and began slashing at the laces of the wounded Hatcher's boots.
"Second Platoon, defensive positions!" The scattered group formed up in front of the injured man, presenting a wall of bristling rifle barrels to the enemy.
The RAID Commando shot past, and skidded to a halt in the dust.
"You don't stand a chance against it! Stick to the plan!" they roared as they squeezed off a burst of railgun rounds. Terrence just shook her head, and let off a burst of fire in the direction of the encroaching storm. The Commando gave a grunt and shot skyward once more.
Commander Lewis' voice crackled in her ear.
"Hunter One, UH1 is nearing the killzone; I need you to retreat to your fallback position. Over."
"Negative sir! We have wounded, we can't abandon our position till they're clear! Over!"
Static was building on the line, and Terrence lost most of Lewis' reply in the haze.
"-py, Lieutenant… some time."
The storm of whirling dust was growing so loud that Terrence could barely hear her own breathing. A nimbus of crackling energy edged around a bend in the river valley. Tongues of white lightning licked the canyon walls, sending shards of rock flying into the air. At its heart was the black, insectoid figure Terrence had glimpsed on the ridge. Its jagged, multi-jointed arms were outstretched and ringed by a halo of painfully bright energy.
"Fire on the hostile!" Terrence called out. Her cry was answered by the barking discharge of a dozen rifles. They filled the air with a hail of lead so dense that any organic foe would have been shredded. They sparked and deflected off the creature's glossy black carapace. A few shards of crystalline matter pinwheeled away from the barrage, but these minor wounds showed no sign of slowing their foe's advance.
Terrence's rifle clicked empty. The unearthly monstrosity raised a crooked finger and pointed it at her, almost lazily. She heard a sound like rushing wind, as if death were speeding towards her.
The creature's armoured chest exploded into shards of crystal. The electrical buildup around its limbs dissipated. A viscous green liquid was seeping from the cracks in its shell.
The RAID Commando descended from the skies, vapour streaming from their weapon, and touched down between Terrence and the creature. A second armour-piercing round was loaded into the barrel with a clunk.
"Alright, come get it!" the Commando shouted. The creature gave an inhuman screech, and charged. It surged over the uneven ground like a spider, its limbs skittering and clicking on the rock.
"Ah shit!" The Commando shot backwards with a puff of thrusters, barely evading the swipe of a vicious claw. A thunderous blast rang out, and the creature stumbled backwards, digging its claws into the crumbling earth for stability.
"We're clear!" Butler shouted. The wounded Peters was slung over his shoulder, feebly stirring. The two awkwardly staggered out of the line of fire. Terrence gestured to the rest of the unit, which fell back to a sheltered inlet in the ridge wall, keeping their bodies in front of the wounded man.
"Hunter Actual, this is Hunter One; we're out of the kill zone," Terrence informed her commander over the radio.
"Copy Hunter One, brace for the bombardment," came the reply.
The Commando continued to goad the entity deeper into the valley, drawing its attention with shots that would have gutted a tank, and nimbly evading its counterstrikes. At the end of the canyon, the disruptor tanks sat waiting. Coats of tan paint nearly camouflaged their bulk against the canyon wall. Heavy clouds of vapour rose from their idling engines.
A deep hum began to build as the complex machinery within the tanks spun up. Terrence felt the vibration deep in her guts, and had to grip the rock wall to keep her balance. Several of the other soldiers looked as if they were about to be sick. Pebbles bounced on the dusty ground as the vibrations reached fever pitch.
With a thunderous roar that shook the valley, the sonic tanks discharged. The air rippled with distortion like a heat haze. The soldiers clapped their hands over their ears. Even with the protection of helmets and earplugs, Terrence felt like her head was about to split. The high-pitched whine was drilling through the back of her head, and her teeth ached as if they were being hit with a jackhammer.
The creature stopped in its tracks, transfixed by the focused beams of sound. Its form seemed to blur as the vibration rebounded endlessly through its crystalline facets. With a resounding crack a crevice appeared in its smooth face, and a mix of green viscera and fine powder poured out.
The creature's piteous screeches joined the cacophony created by the sonic tanks as it sank to its knees. It seemed to be clutching at non-existent ears with its spindly claws. With a final twitch, it shuddered and fell limp.
The disruptor tanks continued to focus their deadly sound waves on its prone form, but the only visible motion was the air, shimmering from the acoustic excitation. Eventually, they powered down, and the sound died away with a swoop of bass frequencies.
Terrence's guts were still squirming. She fell to her knees, and ripped her helmet off a bare second before she threw up.
As she was hacking up the last of her stomach contents, a pair of dusty boots appeared in front of her face. Terrence pushed herself up so she was standing toe to toe with the figure. It was the RAID Commando, clad in battered white ceramic. His mirrored faceplate became translucent, revealing the scowling brown eyes of Lieutenant Vega.
"You deviated from the mission," he said flatly.
Terrence nodded firmly. "I had wounded in the line of fire. My duty was to protect them."
Vega's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. In his powered armour he stood a good foot taller than Terrence. She found herself craning her neck to keep eye contact, but refused to be pushed back.
"Your duty was to act as bait. You would have got a lot more people killed if we hadn't been there to pull your ass out of the fire."
"You were-" Terrence was cut off by a squawk of static from her discarded helmet.
"Come in Hunter One, this is Hunter Actual. I'm not reading you, are you there?"
Terrence turned away from the irate Commando and plucked her helmet from the ground.
"Hunter Actual, this is Hunter One. Hostile has been dispatched. We have wounded in need of medevac, over."
"Copy Hunter One. Your position is too rocky for a VTOL landing; are you able to make it to grid E4? Over."
Terrence consulted a map on her heads up display. E4 appeared to be a silty floodplain of the old river system, half a mile to the east of the ridged and broken terrain they were traversing. She looked to Butler for confirmation, but the Sergeant shook his head. The wounded Peters groaned, and spat up a glob of thick, pink blood.
"Negative sir. Casualty is in critical condition, I don't want to risk moving him."
"Copy - we'll dispatch the APCs to your position. Hold tight. Hunter Actual out."
—
Peters was loaded into a jury-rigged medical transport, which screamed off back to the base. Terrence had seen how deeply he'd been cut. Even if he survived the shock and massive internal trauma, his chancea of living through the inevitable Tiberium toxaemia were slim.
Terrence slapped the side of her helmet, a reflexive action to focus her thoughts on the soldiers whose fate she could still affect.
They'd cleared the river valley, and encountered no more of the inhuman entities. In fact, the area was surprisingly free of any kind of Tiberium infestation or mutations, given the corruption of the surrounding landscape. To Terrence, that suggested the presence of some serious, well-concealed harvesting infrastructure.
Her apprehension only deepened when they came across an abandoned, off-the-grid agricultural set up, nestled in the ridges of the river valley. The transparent blisters of the greenhouse complex were shattered, the plants inside charred to ash. An archaic, weatherboard farmhouse sat on a small hillock above the low-lying structures. Its white paint was stained and peeling, the victim of years of decay. The last-century dwelling seemed out of place among the hydroponics equipment and containment domes.
A few fires were still smouldering in the greenhouses, sending plumes of oily black smoke skyward. As they prowled between rows of trellises, twisted by fire, Terrence was sure she could smell an acrid stench through her rebreather. It was a no-doubt carcinogenic blend of burning plastics and mutated plantlife.
"I've got two corpses in power armour here," the recon team reported over the radio. "Bag and tag 'em, Hunter Two." came Lewis' reply. "Hunter One, move up on that farmhouse and create a perimeter. Eagle Team, when they're in position, I want you to breach and clear."
Terrence silently gestured to her platoon, which fanned out around the structure. The farmhouse had been reduced to a pile of kindling. Black scorch marks radiated out from the pile of wooden debris. One of the Company's remaining APCs was trundling through the wreckage, pushing rotten timbers aside with its plough-like nose.
Once a sufficiently wide channel had been cleared through the debris, the APC pulled back, and parked on a rise where it could provide covering fire. Gallagher and Vega advanced at the head of a formation of identical armoured giants. One of them made a small hand gesture, and the point man leapt into action, kicking the warped wooden door into splinters. Team Eagle surged inside, and were swallowed up by the debris.
Terrence watched from the outside. Without radio contact from the RAID Team, the silence stretched agonisingly.
At last, the voice of Captain Gallagher broke through a layer of static on the comms. "Hunter Actual, this is Eagle Actual, the structure is secure."
—
The interior of the farmhouse was just as decrepit as its outside suggested. The ceiling had collapsed in many places, leading to a bizarre effect where parts of rooms from the upper floor had smashed through their counterparts at haphazard angles. Terrence expected the whole thing to fall on them at any moment, but she'd be damned if Eagle Team got all the glory for braving the ruined building.
The room to the immediately left of the entrance had been blown apart down to the studs. Blackened and bent beams held up a ceiling that tilted drunkenly.
Amidst all the rubble, a suit of power armour sat crippled and scorched. The fishbowl-like visor was opaque due to a sooty substance coating the interior. At Terrence's command, Corporal Urdan strode slowly towards it, rifle raised. He prodded the blackened glass of the visor with the barrel. When the broken figure gave no response, the Corporal reached down and flicked open the helmet seal. With a hiss, a cloud of black smoke billowed out. Urdan staggered back, coughing. Terrence choked back her bile; even through a rebreather, she could taste the thick, greasy stench.
As the cloud cleared the charred visage of Captain Peele was revealed.
"Sweet Allah," the Corporal muttered. Terrence pushed past the man, and knelt before the fallen soldier's corpse.
Peele was burned almost to the point of unrecognisability. His teeth stood out as gleamy white pegs in the blackened skull. The skin was tight and desiccated, as if he had been mummified. His mouth was open in a silent scream. Terrence reached out to close the man's eyes on force of instinct, but realised with revulsion that the Captain's eyes and eyelids had been burned away. Her gloved hand lingered near the dome of the helmet for a moment.
In moments like this, Terrence wished she had the comfort of religious rituals to fall back on. She'd heard a variety spoken over dozens of other bodies, but had never been able to find solace in them herself. Instead, she said a wordless prayer of vengeance against whatever had slain Captain Peele and all the others.
Terrence reached into the well of the helmet, fumbling for Peele's dog tags. The metal chain was melted into his neck. Terrence pulled hard. Papery skin tore as she pulled on the insignia, and stored it in an empty ammo pouch.
"The two in the greenhouse, Peele… that only makes three," Terrence mused. "There should be more bodies here…"
With her grizzly keepsake retrieved, Terrence took a closer look at Peele's final resting place. Scorch marks and craters filled the room, evidence of the struggle that had killed him. A crust of dried blood covered the lower half of the suit, where the damaged armour plating had crushed him like a vice. There was also a pool of liquid underneath the shattered suit.
The liquid had splashed on the ground, the walls, and over the stairs that led down into darkness. At first Terrence mistook it for more of Peele's blood. It was thicker than blood though - more viscous - and was an off green colour, like swamp water and rot.
"Jesus, looks like-"
"The Alien shit." Terrence finished. Her blood ran cold remembering those implacable, beetle-like metal forms, clambering over the bodies of her fallen comrades. The green filth that had spewed out of their bullet wounds had burned at the touch, and contaminated the ground they bled on.
"Let's not jump to conclusions. We have our mission. Lasky, take point, down the stairs."
"Yes ma'am," the Private replied with a slight tremor in his voice.
Shouldering his rifle, Lasky pushed down the stairs. The flashlights of his comrades cast a dim illumination through the dust in the air.
Beyond the foot of the staircase was a small basement area. It was as bare and rundown as the rest of the farmhouse. A thick layer of pale dust coated a cracked concrete slab. Wide, parallel streaks ran through the filth; the hallmarks of something heavy being dragged. The marks wound through the room, before terminating at a pile of busted wooden pallets and old shelving which occupied the far wall.
Terrence approached the detritus slowly. As she stepped onto the concrete slab, she felt a faint vibration through the soles of her boots. It got stronger, though almost imperceptibly, as she approached the pile of wooden scrap. She laid her hand against the white-painted cinderblock of the basement wall. It was thrumming with the same vibration.
"Get those pallets out of the way," she instructed her team. Several men wrestled the wooden debris out of the way, scattering it around the oddly sparse basement. Sticking out of the wall, like it had crashed through it, was a hatch. It was made from some kind of glossy black material, flecked with gleaming purple highlights in spiral whorls. Just like the UH1 entity, it bore a striking resemblance to overgrown sealife.
"Get in touch with the Commander," Terrence told Sergeant Butler. A defiant seed of hope was growing in her chest. "I think we've found our point of origin."