Chapter Three: Evac
It's not enough.
You've won a great victory, but the scans you've used with the Command Center show a lot of other zerg on the planet. Many of them are clustering around their hives. In so doing, they prevent the same tactics you used before. And you know that if you're going to win this, you have to find a different strategy.
You pilot the Command Center east and south, reaching an abandoned outpost. It guards the only bridge leading from a city. You can't remember the cities name, but you do a bit of research. And it turns out that it has a water treatment plant across the river—one which serves all the surrounding areas.
Landing the Command Center, you find only corpses and horrors.
No one is alive in this town either, which is just what you expected. But you have the beginnings of a planet and check the weather reports. A strong southwestern wind is expected in an hour, judging from your instruments, and you set to work. Finding an intact truck, you conduct a search of the warehouses.
Finding some documentation, you learn that you have the chemicals you need.
The xenomorphs are all organic creatures. They are flesh and blood.
That meant they were vulnerable to everything that was organic.
But you'd need a truly massive amount of chemicals to do this, more than one truckload. And the zerg might notice you are there. So you raid the local armory and hike over to the bridge. There you set up several auto-turrets and order them to fire anything that moves. Hurrying back, you begin loading the barrels.
One by one, you roll them into the truck. It's hard work, and you are drenched in sweat. You have to drink a lot of water several times, but at last, you have to fill. With that done, you find what you need—masks and total protection, complete with a filtered breathing system. In the distance, you hear a burst of gunfire, and something howls inhumanely before dying.
You hurry up.
Closing the truck, you drive to the water treatment plant, feeling the sweat on your palms. It's a huge building constructed high into the air. As you arrive in the parking lot, you find the loading lock and position yourself as best you can. It's not something you are experienced at, however, and you dent the back of the car.
It doesn't matter.
No one can sue you anyway; you're the last man on earth.
Getting out, you scan around you with your gun and find only corpses. Several more screams from the bridge; you need to hurry. Moving quickly up the stairs, you find the door locked. Looking up, however, you see the vents—no sign of tampering.
If someone is inside here, theoretically, they may still be alive.
You don't have time for this.
Raising afoot, you blast the lock repeatedly before kicking the door off. You've just announced yourself to everyone here. But they would know the xenomorphs don't use gunfire. Moving into the room, you scan it with a flashlight and find the lights on. Moving into the halls, you check around and see no bodies, no signs of slime. The vents are untampered, and there is clean air in the room.
Moving to the loading dock, you abruptly see movement. Turning, you see another human being.
It is... a profoundly strange experience.
You are the last person in the world, or so you'd begun to believe. But you look at the girl across from you; pistol raised it an odd experience. She is about your age and had her hair tied up above her head. She's slim and very fit, and she looks at you reserved.
"Put your gun down," You say. "I am with the militia, and I am carrying out a time-sensitive operation. I need your help."
"What operation?" she asked. "What are you talking about? Everyone is dead?"
"Not everyone," You reply. "And the enemy remains alive. They have to be destroyed in order to safeguard any survivors."
"How are you going to do that?" She asked. "I mean, you're the only one here. You can't have that many."
"In that truck," You reply, feeling odd having a conversation again. "I have a large shipment of chemicals. If poured into the water supply, they will create a chemical reaction called White Death. It will melt the skin from any organic lifeform.
"The xenomorphs are all organic. They will be especially vulnerable to this form of warfare."
"But that'll kill any survivors who are still here," she said.
Good point.
You'd been operating on the assumption that everyone was already dead. If everyone was not already dead, that changed things. "There are three xenomorph hive structures across this river. Anyone who is not dead near them has already fled.
"Do you know of any survivors on this side of the river?"
"No," said the girl. "But I uh... I'm sort of an orphan. I live and work here."
"In a water treatment plant?" You ask incredulously.
"They let me put down my bedroll in this place, and in return, I work for minimum wage," said the girl. "Or they did; they're probably all dead by now."
"I didn't notice any survivors," You note. "But you live in this location. I'm conscripting you into the Colonial Militia. Our numbers have been damaged by recent events. The situation is bad but not unsalvageable.
"I want you to head back to the main town. There should be a Command Center there with an open door. Equip yourself for a full-on chemical attack. Then locate any survivors and get them away from the river." You check your watch. "You have thirty minutes; once those have elapsed, retreat."
"I have a walkie-talkie," she says. "Two of them." And she drew them out. "They are tuned to the same frequency, so we can do reports."
You nod. "Alright then. I will meet you at the Command Center once the operation has finished. We will observe the effects of the attack and plan for the next stage of our operations once done."
"Right, sure," she says. "Good luck. Uh, do you know how to operate the water filtration systems?"
"I thought I could figure it out as I went," You admit. "We're short-staffed."
"Alright, fine," she said. "Then I'll explain how it operates. There actually is a system for drugging the populace. The Confederate Government does it sometimes when they do something really awful.
"They sedate people, so they're less likely to cause a stir."
"They do far more than that," you say.
"Well, in any case," she says. "Let's get your chemicals unloaded first. Then we'll set up the second stage."
You do so, rolling them off one by one. The girl then took each barrel and rolled it into the next room with practiced ease. Soon the entire truck is empty, and you are even more sweltering than before. She halts. "Alright, now, you don't want to release both chemicals at once.
"This is a poison gas, right?"
"White death," You reply. "When the winds hit, it should blow it straight toward the xenomorph clusters. It should, at the very least, kill many of them."
"No, it won't," she said. "This river is moving; if you mix the stuff immediately, it'll all come up at once. You'll probably kill yourself at best. Hang on a sec; I think they had some guidelines on how to do this."
"The Confederacy had guidelines on how to use biological warfare. All on their own citizens?" You ask, incredulous.
"Sure," she said, grabbing a notebook. "The Old Families want to make money. Anyone who gets in the way of them making money needs to die. And since they could replace the colonists any time, you might as well kill them all. Then you can say there was an unfortunate accident."
"And the workers at this treatment plant would cooperate?" You ask.
"They'd murder us all the old-fashioned way. Then bring in off-world 'experts' to carry out the operation," admitted the girl. "We had a retirement drill. Standard procedure if we see a Confederate transport was run like hell."
"And you didn't tell anyone this because..." You ask.
"Never cause trouble, the guy who signs your paychecks," replied the girl. "Especially if he'll have you murdered." She checked the book. "Okay, here is it—procedures... a chemical attack on rebel strongholds.
"White Death...
"Okay, we've got a ten-minute interval if we want to do this. We release the first batch, wait a bit, and then another.
We've got two different gates, though for two different vats, which we shut off. We'll pour one chemical into the first vat.
"Then the other. Both should be harmless enough on their own, but together very lethal.
"We set a timer, so the denser of the two chemicals is released, then the other ten minutes later. If this works, it'll butcher every piece of flesh in the open air. There should be a panic room which will filter out any chemicals in the air."
"Will it?" You ask.
"Um..." she paused. "Well, uh... theoretically."
"No loose ends," You note. "Why not arrange for the panic room to be useless to the ones' who enter it. You don't have to pay them, and there are no witnesses."
"...Okay, fair enough," she said. "We could make a run for it in your truck afterward."
"That seems as good as we can get," You note. "Set the timer to twenty minutes; the winds won't dissipate that fast. Is there anywhere we can make a public announcement people will hear?"
"The Mayor has a place like that," noted the girl.
"Then we'll head there once we're done," You say. "Let's go."
Quickly, you get to work pouring the chemicals for White Death into the vats one by one. You hope it will be enough. Even so, you watch as the clear water is tainted by the chemicals, becoming murky and horrible. You feel as though you are watching the slaughter of innocent people.
As if you are participating in it yourself.
But you aren't.
White Death was created to wipe out defenseless civilians. But it had proven ineffective against soldiers in Marine Suit. It filtered it out easily. So it was soon retired in favor of steadily more heavy attacks. But it remained the subject of many horror stories, of entire forests wilting under it.
Well, the xenomorphs deserved it.
You finish your work and head out, rushing to the car. She looks at you as you try to get the car ready. "Do you actually know how to drive this thing?"
"I mostly work in areas that don't have roads," You reply. "Seatbelts."
And you drive faster and harder than before. The knowledge that someone out there might still be alive. And that you might save them, it pushes you to move at full-speed down the highway. Little by little, you are directed to the Mayor's officer and screech to halt, being thrown a bit forward.
"A bit fast," says the girl.
You unbuckle. "We're on a timetable. Check your corners, and don't go near any vents or high spaces."
You enter and find a lot of corpses, including the Mayor. He's a fat man and in several pieces on his desk. Gripping the chain, you throw the bloody thing out the window, then pull the corpse off the console. Taking some tissues from the table, you wipe it off, then open the documentation.
"Access denied, please give hand sign," It says.
You take the Mayor's severed hand and put it in print. A moment later, you are granted access, and you toss the arm to the side.
"You're uh... kind of hardcore, aren't you?" asked the girl. "What are you, former black-ops?"
"Look out the window and scan for xenomorphs," You reply, searching through options. The city-wide announcement button was here. You open it.
"Attention all survivors in this region," You say. "There is about to be a full-blown chemical attack on the enemy hive clusters. If you remain here, I cannot guarantee your safety. There is a Command Center waiting to evacuate you. I can provide weapons, security, and rations.
"If this invasion is to be repelled, we will need you.
"I repeat, come to the north of the settlement for evacuation. You have less than twenty minutes before the attack."
Then he looked up. "We'll head for the Command Center now, go."
"Right," she said. "So... is that gunfire from your subordinates."
"No, they're auto-turrets," You reply. "I planted them there in order to restrict zerg incursions without risking lives. Machinery is expendable; people are not. Although I thought there weren't any people left here when I made my plan."
"Right," said the girl. "So, what's your name?"
"My name is not important, and neither is yours," You reply. "Both of us are probably going to be dead soon. And until such a time as this crisis has passed, I see no reason why any of us should become familiar.
"Personal dynamics are irrelevant."
"Fair enough," she said.
You head back to the Command Center, pausing only to snatch some weaponry from a dead corpse. Riding back, you reach it and check the timer as the doors open. And there you wait, looking out to the river as time runs out.
And then you see her. She's a woman, clad in a white medical coat with huge breasts. Her hair is auburn and long, and she rushed forward with a clipboard. "Am I too late?"
"Yes, we've left without you," said brown-hair. You've nicknamed to differentiate from the others.
"I... I'm sorry, I kind of thought you were abandoned too," said orange-hair. "Where is everyone else?"
"At present?" You ask. "Otherwise occupied or dead. We are a small organization with little in the way of resources at the moment." The sound of gunfire continued and then abruptly halted. "Get her water. We wait for another minute. No longer."
At that moment, a man came forward, and he wasn't like the others. His outfit was slashed, and an arm was bandaged. In his hands was a rifle used for long-range hunting, but the variety had doubled for sniping. His face was scarred, and he had a grim look about him. Behind him was a young boy with tawny hair, who was walking with a limp.
"This is the evacuation effort?" He asked eyes narrowed.
"As much as could be managed," You reply. "Did any of you see anyone else on your way here?"
"It was horrible," said orange-hair. "They came in, and they killed so many people. I ended up hiding in a closet from those things, and I saw them slaughter virtually everyone. I had to go out a window or-"
"Yes or no, please," You say.
"No," she replied. "I was working on a medical facility, studying these things. But all the others are dead, and I think we were the last place hit."
"You?" You ask.
"I covered the retreat of several vans of people," replied the man. "But they are long gone by now. The boy I found afterward. He's a mute."
You pause. "I see.
"Very well then. Everyone inside, we're leaving."
At that moment, orange hair let out a cry. "More of them are coming!"
The man turned and raises his gun, and you see that she is right. You also raise yours, and both of you fire as several zerglings are torn apart. But there are more coming.
"Everyone into the Command Center, quickly," You say.
Rushing into it, you check to make sure everyone is in. Once there, you quickly initiate the emergency liftoff. You then plot a course away. Once done, you move up to the windows of the Atrium, followed by them.
Before you, you see a vast cloud of white rise into the air. And from the northwest comes a wave of wind that sends it forward. It flows toward the three zerg clusters, one in the highlands, one amidst the ruins of a broken city. And last of all, one just south of the bridge. As it settles, there is a vast shrieking.
"They are dying!" said orange-hair.
"Yes, that was the plan," You smile, checking the life signs. "They're dead. All of them. Well done, all of you. The operation has gone above and beyond the parameters for success.
"We now stand ready to move on to the next stage of our offensive."
Well then, it's time to make some plans.