"Lifting off from the Sutherland Spaceport at 0800 today, Vanguard 15 marks yet another successful launch of the GDSF's flagship program. The Vanguard series of autonomous spacecraft have been deployed across the Solar System to search for any remaining holdouts of the Alien Invaders. Vanguard 15 is equipped with cutting-edge sensor suites and defensive measures, as well as directed energy weapons believed to be derived from Invader technology. GDSF Spokesperson Amanda Suffolk described the launch as, quote, 'another success in our mission to safeguard humanity's future, not just on Earth, but across the Solar System.'"
GDI News Today, 02/03/2056
[21/5/2056]
Yakima River Valley
The grungy kitchen had become an impromptu operations centre. Terrence was itching to take off her helmet and air out her sweat-soaked hair, but the old farmhouse seemed like a total biohazard risk even without the threat of Tiberium contamination. The air moving through her helmet's filter tasted stale, but every now and then she caught a whiff of something rancid.
Vega leant against the gutted remnants of a rusted fridge, inscrutable behind his mirrored visor. Terrence wondered if the lucky bastard had an air conditioned suit.
The virtual ghost of Commander Lewis had joined them in the room, displayed on the inside of their visors through augmented reality. His blurry image left a trail of pixels in its wake as he paced. Occasionally, flickers of other people joined him as they passed behind the camera capturing the image.
"We've pushed our luck as is with this operation," Lewis addressed the assembled officers. "I don't want anyone to go through that hatch without knowing what's on the other side. Any luck with the scans?"
"Negative," Gallagher replied. "The Alien alloy seems to be impenetrable to any wavelengths we throw at it. We'd be going in completely blind."
"That doesn't fill me with confidence…"
"I think it's clear this is the origin site of the hostiles," Vega interjected, stepping away from his haunt in the corner of the kitchen. "I don't see what there is to be gained by entering it other than risking more lives. We should call in an Ion Cannon strike and be done with it."
"Bullshit!"
Three heads swivelled in Terrence's direction. She gulped, stunned by the attention directed her way.
"I just… respectfully, there are only three members of Captain Peele's squad accounted for, and at least a dozen other members of the taskforce who ought to have been present at the base. Not to mention there are clear signs of something being dragged through that hatch. I think… I'm sure that they're inside whatever this installation is."
The silence was deafening as the three officers mulled over Terrence's outburst. She felt the adrenaline coursing through her limbs, as bad as in the midst of a firefight.
"Lieutenant Terrence is right," Lewis finally announced. "We can't risk an orbital strike while there's a chance friendlies are still inside." Vega's glove creaked as he clench his fists.
"Regardless, we can't breach the hatch," Gallagher rebutted. "The disruptor tanks are too unwieldy; we won't be able to bring them to bear without demolishing the whole building. That's gonna add to the operation."
"There might be an alternative," Terrence muttered to herself.
"What do you mean, Lieutenant?" Lewis asked.
"The Zone Recon team that came through here must have had sonic weaponry. Some of it might still be intact."
"Good thinking, Lieutenant. Follow up on that."
Terrence heard the sounds of Gallagher's protests fade as she left the impromptu operations centre.
The room where Captain Peele had been found was less chaotic than when Terrence had first come across it. Work lamps had been set up on tripods, illuminating something that resembled a crime scene. The rubble had been cleared away, revealing a splintered wooden floor, marked with dark stains.
Peele's body had been removed from the ruined suit and sealed inside a black vinyl bag. The armour itself lay in pieces, disassembled with power tools. Significant pieces of the suit's inner mechanisms were laid out in a grid, adorned with yellow tags. A technician in a white environment suit was crouched over these scattered pieces of metal.
"Is any of Peele's weaponry still intact?" Terrence asked the technician.
"Yes, the sonic blaster is functional," he replied with a glance at a blocky assembly of tubes and wires, "But the suit's fusion reactor is compromised, so there's no way to power it."
"Not necessarily…"
—
A bundle of thick black cables trailed down the stairs into the basement of the ruined farmhouse. On the ridge outside, the Sonic Disruptor Tanks rumbled, their generators' output redirected to power the pilfered weapon. Terrence imagined she could hear the hum of current moving through the wires.
The hatch was oddly beautiful, she thought, now that she was ready to blast the thing into dust. It was like a giant seashell made from amethyst, all curls and ridges, repeated endlessly according to some innate mathematics of biology. The light from the work lamps was bent within its faceted internal structure, creating a whirlpool of iridescent shimmers.
Terrence's musings were interrupted by Lieutenant Vega's approach. His faceplate was translucent, revealing his eyes. The helmet lights gave them a blue tinge. Terrence drew herself up to her full height, and stared him down. Vega spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"We're on the same side here," he said. "You're looking out for your people; I get that. But a lot more folks are gonna die if we go through that hatch."
"I didn't think a RAID Commando would be afraid of dying."
"I'm not," Vega scoffed. "But you've gotta think of the big picture. The mission comes first."
Terrence scowled. "My mission is to find out what the hell happened here. That's the big picture. Which means we're going through." She hefted the salvaged sonic blaster.
Vega held out a gloved hand for the weapon. Terrence drew back, gripping the handle tighter.
"I can handle this myself," she snapped.
"Sure. And then your organs will get liquified. My armour's a little tougher than that." He rapped a hand on the hard ceramic shell. Terrence had to concede the cocky commando had a point, and reluctantly handed over the jury-rigged weapon.
—
The foot soldiers scrambled to retreat from the basement, leaving Vega alone, facing off against the strange, apparently extra-terrestrial growth that sealed their passage further into the structure. Its shimmering facets reminded Vega uncomfortably of the Alien structures he'd seen take root in cities across Europe.
He wasn't used to being around the groundpounders for this long. They were so caught up in taking the next room, the next hill, the next street, they didn't realise there was a bigger picture to it all. Vega longed to return to the distant tranquillity of the Altair station, with its unobstructed views of the planet. If we don't die clearing this damn barn.
"Okay Lieutenant, let's power this thing up," the voice of a technician outside intruded on his thoughts. Vega snapped back to the task at hand, adjusting the weapon in his hands so its complicated panel of controls was accessible.
"The connection is unstable, so let's start at ten percent power and go from there."
Vega turned a dial on the side of the weapon, aimed it in the direction of the opalescent hatch, and pulled the trigger. The umbilical pulsed with power, and the blaster thrummed in his hands. The air ahead of its barrel rippled with distortions.
"Okay, output looks good," the technician reported. "Let's bring in some lower frequencies."
Vega turned another dial, and felt the blaster shudder in his hands. The ripples in the air grew frenzied, then settled into steady pulses. Through the layers of insulation in his armour, he heard a low rumble, like a turbine revving up. A fine rain of dust fell from the ceiling. Vega released the trigger, ready to flee from the basement, but nothing else moved.
"Structural stability seems sound," the voice chimed in his ear. "Let's increase the power by 10%."
Vega turned the dial further around. The weapon kicked in his arms, and he had to wrestle it to keep the barrel pointed at his target. The crystalline barrier shimmered through the haze of disturbed air. With an ear-splitting crack, a fist-sized chunk broke away and fell to the floor. It shattered, and spread glistening powder across the floor.
"That seemed to do it," he called back over the radio. "I'm increasing the power." The roar of the weapon rose in ferocity, and was soon joined by a high-pitched whine. His vision began to blur. At first he thought the high-frequency vibration must be getting to him, but then he realised the barrier was shaking in concert with the sonic waves. Waves were moving through it, shaking the armoured plates apart.
With a catastrophic crash, the crystalline structure broke apart. Shards of glassy material fell to the concrete floor and shattered. Vega quickly flicked the sonic blaster off, and dropped it to the ground. He swung the GD10 around on its sling and brought it up to a firing position.
Where the barrier had been was a darkness so deep it seemed to seep like liquid from the tunnel mouth. Vega's visor automatically adjusted to the gloom, highlighting the jagged edges of the tunnel in blue lines. No motion was visible within. Once Vega was satisfied nothing was about to dash out of the yawning maw and rend him limb from limb, he radioed the rest of the team.
"The hatch is open," Vega reported.
"Copy," Gallagher replied. "Let's see what's on the other side."
—
The hallway was dimly lit. A thick haze seemed to hang in the air, and the beams of their flashlights did little to penetrate the gloom. Terrence could hardly see more than a metre ahead. The RAID Team had advanced ahead of her own squad, and was quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Her helmet's image enhancement suite drew an outline around where it thought they were, but the silhouettes were hazy, and jittered frequently.
The tunnel wall was bare stone, roughly cut by some kind of drilling machine. It sloped down steeply, plunging deep into the bedrock. Thick bundles of cables were bolted to the rock, some left frayed and sparking by the demolition.
"What is this, rubber?" one of her subordinates mused aloud. "Bit low tech for the Aliens."
"Quiet," Terrence hissed back at him.
As the team descended, the air grew stuffy and hot. The haze thickened, bringing with it notes of burnt plastic. Terrence gagged through her respirator. There was a thick scent beneath the coppery smell of burnt electronics; the undeniable stench of corpses.
"Fuck me, that's an ugly looking bastard," Lasky, the point man remarked.
Terrence rushed forward. Lasky was standing over a huddled mass of pale flesh. He prodded the corpse with his boot. The creature's bulbous head rolled lifelessly. Its blank white eyes stared blindly, gleaming with a milky light. Its skin was slimy and pale, with a greenish tinge. It looked like an aquatic creature that had crawled up from the depths of some deep sea trench.
"Looks like it crawled here…" Terrence muttered. A trail of viscous green slime was visible on the ground.
"Holy shit," a voice issued through the radio. The point team had vanished from sight again, hidden by a sharp turn in the tunnel. Terrence increased her pace, her sense of dread mounting. Her rifle shook in her grip as she rounded the corner into a cavernous space. It was filled with a thick mist, and row upon row of corpses.
They hung in cradles of mechanical apparatuses like carcasses on meat hooks. Many were missing limbs. Some were reduced to little more than collections of parts, strung up in a fine mesh of electronics like fish in a net. The RAID Team stood at the entrance to this gruesome gallery, weapons sweeping the cavern for any sign of motion amongst dozens of the dead.
Except the dead weren't entirely motionless - ventilators pumped the chests through pipes embedded in the pallid skin, animating them in a sickening parody of life. Each corpse was threaded through with webs of transparent tubing. Viscous emerald liquid was pumping through the tubes, and where it penetrated the anaemic flesh, a dark stain was spreading.
"What the fuck is this?"
"What the hell? This is some body-snatchers shit!"
"Some kind of torture room?"
"Or a larder. Do the Aliens… eat people?"
Terrence glanced at the desecrated bodies hanging from the walls of the hallway. A sickening feeling of realisation was growing inside her.
"I think we've found the rest of the taskforce."
Captain Gallagher waved a hand to dismiss the chatter. She gave a rapid-fire string of hand signals, and her team fanned out, stalking between the rows of bodies. Terrence shouldered her weapon, and followed suit.
The rasping of artificial breathing machines filled her ears. A chill radiated from the bodies as she passed between them. It felt like walking between carcasses in a meat locker. Her breath condensed on her visor. Terrence raised a hand instinctively to wipe at the moisture. In the moment of blindness as the glove covered her face, she tripped over a cable on the ground. She staggered, reaching out a hand to steady herself. It brushed against something soft and cold.
The corpse stirred, and began to thrash in its harness.
"Woah!" Lasky yelped, and leaped back from the sudden motion. He levelled his weapon at the source of movement, little more than a suspended torso.
"Hold your fire!" Terrence hissed. She regained her balance, and rushed forward to slap the man's rifle away.
The figure on the hook groaned through its respirator mask, and flailed the severed stump of its arm helplessly. Terrence approached tentatively, fighting back revulsion as she took in the devastation that had been wrought upon the pitiful figure. She looked into the man's brown eyes, sunken into his dark face, and was hit by a pang of recognition.
"Commander Jackson?" she asked hesitantly. The figure blinked at her, and rasped something unintelligible from behind his mask. Terrence drew closer, peering at the man's features in the glare of a flashlight. His head had been shaved bare, and he was badly emaciated, but it was unmistakably him.
"Jesus Christ…" someone breathed from behind her. The shock of discovery rippled through the soldiers, expressed as a wave of gasps and curses.
"We need to get him down from there," Terrence commanded. Two soldiers approached, and began unstrapping the mutilated man from his medical cocoon. They hefted his diminished form between them easily. Terrence grabbed the mechanical mask and tried to pry it away from Jackson's face, but he screamed in muffled agony.
The two soldiers leaped back from Jackson as he gave a scream of pain. The hanged man was thrashing in his harness, and lashing out at the soldiers trying to help him. Terrence held out her hands placatingly. Jackson fell limply in his restraints.
"Okay, let's leave him for now," she decided. "See if there's a way to remove the machinery while keeping the life support online. Lasky, take a squad and check if there are any more of our people here. We'll need to clear this site before we call for medevac."
—
"Hunter Actual, this is Hunter One . We've found the missing taskforce members."
Miles away in the command tent, Commander Lewis leaped to his feet. His heart pounded,and adrenaline flooded his extremities. Goddamn, we may actually come out on top here. He tamped down his hopes; they still had a long way to go before they were in the clear.
"Hunter One, Actual; are they alive?"
"It's a mixed bag. Some deceased, several wounded. Commander Jackson is alive, hooked up to some kind of life support apparatus."
Now that was odd. It was unlike the Aliens to take human prisoners, let alone bother to tend to their wounds. Lewis felt as if he was staring at a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces from half a dozen boxes, trying to make them fit into one picture.
"Are the wounded in any condition for transport?"
"We're determining that now, sir," Terrence replied.
"Copy; keep me posted." Lewis killed the transmission.
"EVA, is there any precedent for the Invaders taking human prisoners?" he asked the AI.
"Accessing database, please stand by," the cool, digital voice replied. "Unable to comply; this information is classified."
Lewis thumped the folding table, which collapsed onto his leg. The technicians glanced around at the sudden noise, then averted their gaze.
"Goddamit," he hissed, cradling his knee. "Get General Granger on the line. I need that clearance."
—
Eagle Team stalked deeper into the structure, weapons raised, every sense on high alert. The groundpounders had stayed behind to handle triage of the wounded, which Vega appreciated. Now that he didn't need to babysit the rank and file, he was free to operate at maximum efficiency.
The advanced sensor suite in Vega's helmet tagged potential threats as they appeared. The corpses, hanging from their medical harnesses, were outlined in red. Each flicker of movement brought up hazard flags, before it was dismissed. The shifting mist that permeated the labyrinth severely limited visibility, even with digital enhancement penetrating the gloom.
"There's some kind of obstacle ahead," Amon reported. "I'm getting a complete null reading on all frequencies."
"Could be a stealth field," Gallagher posited. "The Aliens are known to have that tech. Keep your eyes peeled."
Vega could see a dark blotch ahead, the computer's interpretation of a total lack of radiation. It was an empty, blank space in the world. He wasn't discouraged by the apparent dead end; it was a sign they were getting close to something someone wanted to hide, and hide thoroughly. As they moved through the confines of the earthen tunnel, the omnipresent haze shifted, revealing the source of the obstruction.
It was another of those blasted hatches.
"Ah crap," Amon swore. "Don't 'spose you brought that fancy blaster with you, Vega?"
Vega chuckled, though it was a humourless sound. "I would have, but I don't have three kilometres of cable." The opalescent alloy gleamed in the low light, mocking him. Without a sonic disruptor, they were at a true dead end.
"Shut it, you two," Gallagher snapped. "Let's double back, find another way round. There were more tunnels leading out of that meat lock-"
The door hissed open. Rather than some mutant, extraterrestrial horror, a young woman stood framed in the doorway. Black robes were draped around a form-fitting environmental suit. She froze when she saw the interlopers, her mouth open in a silent expression of shock.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, fumbling at her belt for a weapon, but stood no chance against the commandos' razor sharp reflexes. Six weapons snapped up, and in a fraction of a second, a dozen railgun-accelerated spikes of metal were driven through her. The staccato reports slapped harshly off the walls of the tunnel like a localised thunderstorm.
The woman toppled like a fallen statue, her robes splaying out around her. Gallagher made a sharp motion with her hand, and the squad glided forward, fanning out to secure the space on the other side of the doorway.
A series of mic clicks indicated each member of the squad clearing their slice of the room. Vega knelt down beside the fallen woman to check her pulse. He needn't have bothered; her head had been struck by a railgun round. It had drilled a neat hole clean through both sides of her skull.
What the hell were you doing here? The woman didn't look like an escaping prisoner; she still had all her limbs, for one thing, something that couldn't be said for the rest of Jackson's taskforce.
Vega's fingertips lingered on the woman's neck. A silver chain was wrapped around it. He tugged the necklace free of her collar, and a pendant came with it.
"Oh, shit," he exclaimed.
"What? Are there more hostiles?" Gallagher came running over to his side.
Vega wordlessly held up the chain. Glinting in the low light, a scorpion-tail pendant hung from his fingers.