A/N:
Q: "Advena got fucked by Tyler and we don't even get to see?"
A: Geez Louise, has it really been that long since I've written a lemon for this story? I'll get on that I guess, throw some ideas at me if there's anything particular you'd like to see (Sal x Tyler anyone? Any takers? No? Ah well). To answer your question though: no, they didn't actually do the do; Advena just likes to mess with people, especially when they upset her.
End A/N.
Jake stood at the edge of the small crowd curiously, watching as Tyler barked a series of orders at a woman and recorded something on his PDA when done.
"Damn it!" the woman exclaimed as she headed over to her friends, who were all howling with laughter. "I just don't get it!" More curious than ever, he exchanged a look with Advena, and approached their young scientist friend.
"Hey Tyler," Jake greeted casually. The young man glanced up from his device and perked up slightly.
"Ah! Jacob! I have a shortage of volunteers at the moment, and you're a perfect candidate. Care to play a little game for a chance at winning twenty bucks?" Jake shrugged and stepped into the small clear area amongst the gathering of spectators where the woman had been moments ago.
"Sure, why the hell not. What are the rules?"
"I'm gonna give you a bunch of commands, and you have two seconds to do the opposite of what I tell you to do, alright? Like, when I say jump, you duck, when I say left, you go right. Three strikes and you're out, make it to the end of the list and you get the money. Any questions?"
"Sounds easy enough," Jake concluded, a little suspicious. But more than anything, he was confused to no end as to why Tyler was running little carnival games in the middle of town.
"Jump!" Tyler barked. Jake crouched. "Punch left!" Jake punched right. He began to feel a little embarrassed with all the enraptured eyes staring at him doing a little dance for the civilian with the PDA, but pushed forward anyway. There had to be some point to this, and he wasn't going to find out until he finished. "Spin right!" Jake spun left. "Crouch! Point up! Spin left! Point up! Punch right! Point right! Point down! Jump! Spin left! Punch down! Spin right! Point up!" Jake followed the opposite of Tyler's instructions perfectly with his honed concentration, and in no time at all, Tyler barked out his last order and began recording results. Without looking away from his screen, he offered a twenty dollar note to Jake, who politely refused. He hadn't really been doing it for the prize, more to figure out what the hell was going on.
"So, I'm guessing this is some kind of experiment?" he inquired, trying to peer over the top of the device to see the screen. Tyler nodded, humming thoughtfully.
"I was looking into psychological warfare, and whether it's possible to influence people's actions using telepathy. I have mixed results, so I'm gonna have to do a fair amount of analysing before I can give a solid conclusion. Hmm, having Advena nearby complicates things; I'll have to make a note of that… And probably run two tests on one person – one with their Xeno nearby, and one without. Mental strength is a huge factor here…"
"Anyway, Je – the Lieutenant wants to talk to you," Jake corrected himself quickly, remembering he was in public. "Something about a mission you wanted to propose to her?"
"Ah, yes, perfect. This is going to help immensely." Jake smiled a small smile at his friend's excitement, watching the scientist tuck his PDA away and take up position by Jake's side as they walked together to the bunker system Jeica liked to call a command centre. Peering at the young man, Jake weighed his options carefully. Ever since the little accident that had Bonded them together, Tyler had taken on a much friendlier stance, almost like he'd reverted back to his old self back on Reveles. He had no idea if the side effect was going to be permanent, so maybe now was a good time to get some information out of him.
"So, making missions now. Were you like, a tactical advisor or something? Back when you first joined the Resistance, I mean." Tyler barked out a short, good-natured laugh.
"Hardly," he snorted once he'd gotten over himself. "I was a driver. I drove troop carriers and kept the engine running while the boys ran out and fought to the death. Occasionally I'd drive an assault vehicle with a mounted turret or such, but mostly they just tried to keep me out of the way. That was, of course, until I got really good at it."
"Do tell."
"Well, as you know, my parents – what little I remember of them – never were really supportive of me. The Resistance were, and I wanted to make them proud. They gave me one job to do, and I practiced it every day, took advice from whoever would spare the time, took lessons from online courses, trained up in the garage. Of course, it never showed through because they refused to put me in a situation where I'd need to use skills like that. But naturally, they couldn't keep me in the clear forever. A simple recon mission went very southward and we took heavy casualties. We were ordered to retreat, but my truck was empty, so I drove into the combat zone and loaded up as many people who I could find that were still breathing. Vince, my Christian combat medic friend, was among them, and he helped by stabilising the passengers until we got back to our base of operations."
"No shit, a Christian and a gay, friends?"
"Actually, there's no reason to be surprised. The newest Testament of the Bible has somewhat of a revision tone to it. Vince used to tell me all sorts of cool stories from it, but what stuck with me was a lot of the new age stuff. I think Amends starts off something like this: 'The human race is, fundamentally, a flawed one. One only has to take a glance at our history to see the mistakes we have made, and never will there come a day where there is not something for us to fix within ourselves. Yet, God, the embodiment of perfection, created us in His image, so should we too not be perfect? No, because perfection is an illusion; to be perfect is to have no free will, and God is no slave. He too, makes mistakes as we, His children, do.'"
"I bet that went over well. How do you even write a new Testament in the modern day?"
"Hell if I know. Ask someone who was alive two centuries ago – oh wait, that's right: they're dead. But yeah, people were pretty sceptical of the new writings exceeept for when they predicted the arrival of the Federation. Accurately. Concerningly accurately. 'And if man should take it upon himself to do the work reserved for God, he shall not only face His judgement for such blasphemy, but the judgement of a mortal power higher than himself.' It's subtle, but there's more than a few references to aliens in there, with the Federation being the 'higher power' in question, of course. There's a pretty neat section about God creating the Universe as well. '… And man said, "O Lord, we wish to see more than our small world", so God created the stars. Again, man asked of Him, "O Lord, we wish to touch more than our small world", and God created the planets. One final time, man asked of Him, "O Lord, we wish to meet more than our small world", and God created life once more.' It's all quite poetic, and fascinating, really."
"What about you? You buy into any of it?"
"Not really. I like the messages it sends though, especially in this one part about love being love, no matter what form it takes. It really rings true for me as a fag and someone who likes to fuck aliens. Anyway, we got sidetracked; I was telling you about my time in the Resistance." Jake nodded, silently motioning towards Advena, who had broken away to get them all coffee alongside Sal, in order to get them to stop and wait without interrupting the young man.
The two of them made themselves comfy outside the small coffee shop's door, leaning against the beige-painted wall. "So where was I? Oh yeah, Vince. Well, afterwards, Vince and I were assigned to an evac squad, y'know, pulling people out of wrecks and battlefields and stuff, until I got my stomach all cut up." He patted his belly for emphasis, and Jake grimaced at the mental image of the ugly scars which lay beneath his loose-fitting T-shirt. "So, another of my to-be friends, Roy, shows up in the hospital one day, having gotten to know me through an evac mission where he was in a crashed jet. He offers me a little console and says, 'heard you liked video games and well, this was the best I could get my hands on'. It was one of those training sims you put people through before letting them handle expensive equipment. This one was for aircraft and spaceships, so while I was bedridden, I 'played' the sims, got to know dozens of flying vehicles inside and out. When I was released from hospital, I asked Roy about it and he agreed to further my training. And that's how I became unofficially combat-pilot-certified. He told me I had a knack for flying and after I mastered that, I went back to ground vehicles and started heavy armour training. After I joined the Wey-Yu, I will admit, I expanded a little more and got my Heavy Utility Vehicle Licence – Power Loaders, Forklifts, Trucks, hell, even Rail-Oriented-Transit-Vehicles and Cargo Trains. I made it my goal to ensure there is no vehicle in the US of A that I can't drive, and I'm pretty damn sure I achieved that."
"Jesus, and you're, what, twenty?"
"Coming up on twenty-three. I dunno, I've always been a fast learner when it comes to stuff like that. Machines, computers, engineering, mechanical sciences, it all just kind of… sticks, you know?"
"You're a damn child prodigy, you are. Where were you born, a lab?"
"Eh, some backwater Canadian colony on some moon out yonder," Tyler said dismissively, wafting his hand lazily.
"Canadian? I didn't realise they left the Federation."
"They didn't – well, ninety-nine percent of them didn't. There are two types of people who leave the Federation: those who get traction, and those who don't. For the American people, they got traction; when the first leavers left, all the Americans left. When the first Canadian leavers left, none of the other Canadians followed. So now you've got barely enough Canadian people to fill a planet with no way back into the Federation and no way of claiming a slice of the galaxy as their own, and eventually, they just fade. Some immigrate, the rest slowly die off as their gene pool gets smaller and smaller."
"And you immigrated, despite being barely past puberty at the time?"
"Well, I mean… not legally, no… Lenex pulled a few strings to falsify me a citizenship when I joined the Wey-Yu, but before that? One-hundred-percent illegal alien."
"You hurt my American pride. A Canadian, of all nationalities. You're just trying to insult me."
"French-Canadian too, if I'm not mistaken."
"I'm interested," Advena stated as she stepped out the doorway between them, a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand. Sal followed closely behind her, similarly decked out with drinks, one of which he handed to Tyler so he could concentrate on nursing his own. Advena, likewise, provided her lover with a coffee while she continued. "I mean, French fries and French kissing are pretty amazing, let's see if we can get a three for three with this 'French can-add-ion' of yours."
"Jesus Christ Jacob, what do you teach this girl?" Tyler sighed in exasperation.
"The important stuff," Jake protested defensively as they continued walking.
"Oh, so an entire nationality isn't important enough to explain to her?"
"Aw come on, both the French and the Canadians stayed in the Federation – they hardly count as individual nationalities anymore."
"That is true; the Federation doesn't give a shit about the minor details. Would be kind of nice, actually, not having to carry around so many labels. Isn't being human bad enough?"
"You know, sometimes I wonder with you…" Tyler punched his shoulder playfully with a mock-scowl. They stayed silent for a few moments after that, before Jake spoke up again. "So, how are you holding up, anyway? That whole personality swapping thing was a little fucked up…"
"Not well enough to talk about it," Tyler shut him down bluntly.
"You didn't want to talk about it yesterday, or the day before that either."
"And it's well within my rights to feel that way, so stop pressing the matter. I'm still figuring things out."
"So wait," Advena intervened before they could fall into a broody silence. "French Canadian is a nationality?" Jake nodded the affirmative, his mouth too busy taking a swig of coffee, and his mind too lazy to use telepathy. "And Tyler is this nationality?"
"That's right," the scientist confirmed.
"Well, I guess it was a three-for-three after all." Tyler chuckled and waved her off light-heartedly.
"Oh stop, you'll make me blush," he drawled sarcastically. Finally, they came up on the half-concealed entrance to the underground bunker complex, which was little more than a raised hump of grassy land with a thick, steel vault door embedded into its face. Jake tapped the code in, and the bolts whirred mechanically, unlocking the hefty thing and swinging the door open automatically for them.
"Locked today," the sergeant commented idly. "Must be some important business talks going down."
"Or they're taking inventory. You know how uptight they are about their guns."
"I'm pretty sure that's mostly your fault," Sal sassed him, keeping with his newfound trend of being less of a hopeless pushover kiss-ass. Surprisingly, when asked about it, Sal revealed it was not, in fact, an artefact of Advena's personality left within him after the little Bonding fiasco, but a realisation which dawned on him during the spiteful words he and Advena exchanged during it.
"Oh what, I point a few guns at a few assholes and suddenly the whole world thinks I'm a maniac who can't be trusted with a firearm," Tyler cackled as they descended down the stairs into the enclosed steel walls which arched up above them into small tunnels. The exposed frame which reinforced the metal panels from the inside gave it a rather rustic look, and honestly weren't really doing much considering the thick, solid concrete which resided beyond.
They picked their way through the complex, occasionally having to press themselves to the wall (and the roof, in the case of the bulky Xenomorphs' case) to allow other people to pass in the opposite direction, until they finally arrived at the war room Jeica used to discuss missions.
"Tyler," Jeica greeted the scientist as he walked in, then raised an eyebrow in surprise at who followed. "Sergeant, fancy seeing you two hanging out again."
"You did tell me to go get him," Jake reminded her.
"Yeah, but did I ask you to come back?"
"Yeouch," Jake uttered dryly as he sat down at the holo-table. Jeica grinned and motioned Tyler to go ahead, steeling herself to try and listen to whatever he was about to babble.
"Right, so, the way I see it, we're decently armed, right? Actually, don't answer that, your boys protect that armoury fiercely for a reason: your stash sucks. But, that's an issue for another day. Something we need is equipment, not just for us, but for the Xenos. That means custom building, and while pulling things apart works for smaller projects, I'm going to need an actual factory for bigger projects, and the building materials to go with it. Now, I have a perfect target it mind." Tyler paused to whip out a small external storage device, plugging it into the holo-table and quickly setting it up.
A display of a small planet alongside two models of small oil-rig like structures were projected, allowing Tyler to continue his explanation. "This planet is ideal. It's a mineral rich water planet with both a factory and mining operation set up on different sides of its surface. It's cheaper to manufacture where you mine, you see. It also means they'll have a huge storage of raw materials ready to be processed, and the fact that it's an ocean planet means there are very few spots calm enough to build on, so the security centre is a good distance away and quite understaffed. For this, we'll need three teams, two of which will be at least half Xeno half human, two colony construction ships, a bunch of explosives or thermite if we have it, guns, of course, rappelling gear and one of those Russian cruisers."
"That's surprisingly doable," Jeica agreed. "What's the plan?"
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
On the small, out-of-the-way ocean rimworld of Poseidon, a nervous security guard glanced out the glass panes which lined the front of his small office, out onto the expansive landing pad as it was pelted with rain from the moody, dark skies above. It was rare for anyone to come out this far, hence his apprehension, but they were the only populated planet within about a month's worth of travelling, so when a small colony ship came by running low on supplies, it was a call he had to acknowledge.
The structure groaned, but that was no cause for concern, as the factory had taken much worse storms than this one before. The ferocious waves smashed against the immovable stilts upon which the structure sat – or structures, rather. The security office was connected by a small – and rather flimsy – bridge to the second platform which contained the automated factory itself. He wondered if the storm stretched all the way to the other side of the planet, where the mining operation resided, until the distressing ship came into view, breaking through the clouds and swooping down gracefully to a landing. It was a huge thing, like most colony construction ships, and as such it was perched rather haphazardly on the landing pad which was significantly smaller than the vessel. Parts of the ship hung over the edges where too great a shift would send it crashing into the waves below.
The boarding ramp extended from the cockpit, and out came four figures, holding their hands up to shield their eyes from the stinging rain. They jogged over to the small office building, prompting the guard to get up out of his chair and approach the entranceway where his two co-workers were waiting.
The first stranger stepped through the metal detector, and the device went berserk, beeping and flashing its lights wildly. All three guards whipped out their guns.
"Sir, do you have any weapons or metal objects on your person?" the guard demanded, his aim not wavering. The man opened his thick jacket, revealing a bulky explosive device and a small sidearm strapped to the inside. "Holy sh –"
He stiffened as a gun was pressed against the back of his head. He slowly placed his weapon on the floor, knowing when a fight was lost. His two fellow guards did the same, finding themselves in a similar predicament.
Jake closed his jacket once more and adjusted it so it was comfortable again, nodding approvingly when Advena lowered her gun from the back of the guard's head and kicked his weapon towards her lover, the other Xenomorphs who had clambered across the roof and flanked the guards with her following suit. Handcuffs were taken off the guards' belts and slapped on their wrists while the team pulled out rappelling kits and stripped off their coats to reveal the Colonial Marine armour beneath, slipping on their helmets and flicking their visors down to keep the rain off their faces.
They headed back out into the storm and crossed the precarious bridge, clicking their rappelling hooks onto the support struts of the platform and abseiling down the sides, their Xenomorph counterparts not needing such excessive kit to get the job done. Each member attached an explosive device to a stilt which held the platform up above the water, then ascended back onto the platform and awaited as their pilot launched their ship.
Four crane hooks descended from the cargo bay of the colony construction ship, each one grabbed by a pair of soldiers and fixed to a corner of the factory platform.
"Alright team," Jake called out over the radio. "Anchor yourself to something – we're about to shake things up." He slapped his rappelling hook onto a guard rail and waited until his team had done the same before flourishing a small handheld device. Clicking the safety off, he twisted the arming lever and pulled the trigger. The thermite charges on the stilts lit up, hissing with the intense heat produced, cutting straight through the enormous reinforced beams within seconds. The platform shuddered, then swung violently, almost shaking the marines loose. The platform was now freely dangling from the colony ship above them. "Okay, pull us up Mathews," Jake ordered as he raised his gaze to the ship above, which was an ugly square of a thing with its cargo bay doors on the bottom, currently open so the cranes could dangle through it. The ship was used in colony construction to drop off pre-made structures, so why not pick them up, too?
The cranes whined, but performed their duty, slowly hauling the platform up into the ship's belly. Painfully slowly.
"Heads up, security has been alerted. You've got two fighters dispatched to your location," Tyler's voice crackled over the radio from his comfy seat in the Russian cruiser which had taken them here.
"Understood," Jake replied, accepting his Pulse Rifle from Advena and cocking it. The platform was, thankfully, slowly losing the momentum of its swinging, making it much easier for the soldiers to stand up properly.
"There's no way we can engage from this height, Sir, I'm gonna have to take her up," Mathews, the pilot, reported.
"Go ahead; we're all braced down here." The ship slowly began rising, its thrusters firing hot and loud, the slow movement produced seemed amusingly disproportional to the amount of effort the ship was putting in, likely due to the added weight of an entire factory. As the ship rose, the platform began swaying again, forcing the marines to lean against their guard rails for support and their Xenos to dig their claws into the metal below them. "It's a good thing we figured out you don't get sea sick already," Jake commented quietly to his companion, earning himself a quiet, stuttering hiss of a laugh.
"You've got thirty seconds on those fighters," Tyler updated them. "Charlie team is coming aboard now, we'll be waiting for you."
"Tyler, I know you're not a military man, but it helps if you specify a location," Jake jibed, keeping an eye on the horizon for telltale signs of approaching aircraft. Annoyingly enough, Tyler's laugh could be heard coming from the other end of the line, seemingly unaffected by the remark.
"Yeah, and I know you're not a pilot, but generally big fucking space cruisers tend to be in space. Ten seconds until the fighters have you in range. Try to take them out before they resort to blowing both you and the factory up with missiles."
There, breaking through the grey clouds, two, small, sleek black fighter ships came into view, wing-mounted Gatling guns already spinning up. Jake glanced up uneasily, seeing the platform was still about six metres short of being inside the belly of the construction ship where they would be shielded from gunfire. At the rate they were going, that could take up to ten minutes.
The planes roared past, close enough to shake the platform violently, firing off plumes of red smoke from their underbellies. Small pellets landed on the platform, bouncing and rolling, all while burning brightly, casting the area into a flickering red glow.
"Shit," Jake uttered. They had been relying on hiding in the darkness to avoid being turned into Swiss cheese. Plan B then. He knelt down, taking his hand off the railing to instead steady his rifle. He slid across the wet, rain-pelted metal, towards the factory building in the middle, before jerking to a stop after a metre, held in place by his rappelling line. He squeezed his trigger, the intense light from his muzzle flash blurring his HUD temporarily, but better that than a few seconds of absolute blindness caused by the sudden switch from pitch black to unbearable light. His helmet filtered out the worst of it, but it still threw off his aim as good as a slap across the face.
His team similarly began firing wildly, hoping to not only hit the armoured vehicles, but to hit something that would do any kind of damage to them. Once the ships were at a decent distance, they swooped around gracefully to come back for another pass.
"I'll be back," Advena promised him, before skittering off towards the factory in the centre of the platform, skidding and slipping every now and again despite her claws. Jake swore in his head, but kept firing at the oncoming vessels. It wasn't as if the muzzle flash could give away his position any more than the flares already were. The high-pitched squeal of 6000 RPM split the air like a scream, strafing the platform with sparks and bullet holes. Jake tried to roll aside, but ended up sliding over the edge. A few seconds of panic gripped him as he entered freefall, only to be jolted to a halt a metre below the platform, swinging side to side gently. The planes roared past overhead, going around for another pass, and here he was, a cross between a sitting duck and a piñata. The aeroplanes swooped around, guns already blazing while he desperately tried to haul himself up the slippery, wet cable, succeeding in only scrabbling frantically and jerking himself around in the air.
Fshwomph. "Fuck!" Twang. Jake glanced over just in time to see a fellow marine go flying over the edge of the platform, flailing wildly and dropping a large tube-like weapon in the process, while a rocket flew out from where he'd been standing a few moments earlier. The leftmost plane was too close to evade, but it tried anyway, only for the rocket to smash right into its cockpit, engulfing its fore section in flames and sending it into an uncontrollable roll, still unloading rounds as it spun. One of the cables snapped as a single bullet tore through it, making the entire platform lurch and throwing off anyone who had still been standing.
A marine next to Jake went over the edge, the railing his line was attached to snapping off due to its current bullet-struck state. He was caught just in time by his Xenomorph partner, who grabbed him by the wrist and dug her other hand into the platform to anchor them. Seeing three targets in a single area, the remaining pilot zeroed in on them, firing off a torrent of bullets.
"Grab them," Advena commanded him from nowhere. Jake did as he was told without question, grabbing the Xeno's arm and pulling the three of them closer together. Advena slid over the side next to them, embedding her bladed tail into the platform as a makeshift rappelling line so she could swing, upside-down, in front of them, holding a thick plate of hardened steel in her arms which she'd obviously snatched from the factory.
And not a moment too soon, as bullets pelted the surface furiously. The plane roared overhead once more, rattling their bones with the intense sound waves. The plate slipped from Advena's hands, spiralling down into the waters below. It was, after all, a piece of a tank which was not light at all, even for a Xenomorph. She had been hinging her bets on being able to lean it on the floor of the platform, but that plan had fallen apart pretty quickly. Plus, one of those bullets had torn off the middle finger of her exposed right hand at the knuckle. That kinda hurt.
With the situation averted, Advena quickly set to hauling both herself and Jake back up onto the tilted platform while the other Xeno did the same.
"Tyler," Jake cried over the booming thunder and the whine of the two airborne vehicles. "What's the ETA on pick up? We're crippled here and we still have a fighter on our ass!" With only three cranes to bear the weight of the platform, all the constructor ship could do was make a sickening grinding noise and keep the platform where it was, unable to continue lifting it into the cargo bay. That also presented a less immediate problem where, seeing as the cargo bay was unable to close with a factory dangling out of it, the vessel couldn't be pressurised and therefore wouldn't be able to go into space for pickup. But it might be more beneficial to focus on the thing shooting at them, Jake decided.
"Uh… shit you lost the launcher?"
"Yeah, the kickback knocked him right off the platform. In case you haven't noticed, it's really fucking wet h – down!" Jake threw himself onto the floor, sliding back down onto the railing, almost managing to topple back over the edge again. However, the plane had come up on the other side of the factory, firing upon those who were still scrabbling for a foothold on the upper end of the platform.
"Five minutes. We can have a fighter fuelled and loaded in five."
"Not good enough Tyler! Think of something else!" Jake clasped his wet Pulse Rifle in his hands, thanking his lucky stars that it hadn't slipped off his shoulder when he had fallen, trying his luck at attempting to hit the fighter's engines.
"How much time do I have to work with?"
"Thirty seconds would be ideal, and we'll probably all be dead in a minute. So, you know, before then would be nice."
"Well shit, there's only one way to get down that fast. Make certain you're all strapped on. Tight." Moments before the line went dead, Tyler's voice could be heard off-mic. "You, yeah, get me a line to the captain. Now!"
"If you're not anchored to something strong and sturdy, you'd better do something about it," Jake commanded to his team, before shakily unclipping himself from the flimsy railing. He shuffled his way across the platform on his stomach, edging closer and closer to the platform's anchor point with the shot-out cable. He flinched and cowered as a stream of bullets ripped through the metal platform nearby, striking a Xenomorph who had been crawling across it with its partner in their tail's grasp. It toppled, sliding down the wet platform and leaving a trail of bubbling blood behind. Thankfully, the rain diluted the acid as soon as it poured out of the alien's open wounds, so the platform's integrity was maintained. The two bodies hit the railing at the bottom, snapping it with the force of the blow and sending them both tumbling into the waves far below. "Shit!" Jake cussed, lunging the final few metres as the platform trembled. He clicked his line onto the sturdy anchor point, sighing in relief when Advena wrapped her tail around it and pressed her torso against his back for extra security.
The fighter turned its wide arc and hesitated on the guns. Now the pilot had three groups of targets who dared not move from their anchor points. Easy pickings, but which one to target?
He didn't get to decide, as a thunderous roaring filled the sky, shaking everything to its core. The clouds began glowing red as if infused with the anger of the gods, until they erupted into huge flames which licked the slides of a gargantuan steel hull. Beneath the glowing reds, yellows and oranges, white lettering proudly sported the words: Без Жалости.
The clouds were forced apart, hissing and spitting out of existence and in a surreal display of science, the surrounding area suddenly ceased to have any weather besides the howling winds, all the rain being evaporated at the source by a wave of intense heat which swept over the region, starting off well over a hundred Celsius above them, but thankfully cooling off before it reached the exposed marines. With the clearing in the sky, it was now possible to make out the shape of an enormous space cruiser, hexagonal in shape with two large spires sloping out the front while the midsection expanded to connect to the boxy rear which housed a plethora of FTL engines. Manoeuvring thrusters lined the bottom of the ship in droves, all flaring to a maximum to decelerate the giant ship in a timely fashion.
Now the fighter was swerving for an entirely different reason: to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. The massive hulk of metal which was the size of a small country groaned mournfully as it came to a hovering rest in the air and began turning slowly so its broadside was facing the fleeing vehicle. Six hundred pods filled to the brim with over five dozen missiles each popped out of the hull one after the other, from front to back in a wave while ballistic turrets rose out of the top, bottom, and midsection of the ship dramatically, like ghostly apparitions emerging from swampy water.
After all the show and tell, a single missile pod twitched and adjusted itself, before firing off a lone missile which arched high into the air, before falling back towards the ocean at great speeds, crashing into the fighter ship with devastating force, consuming it in a fiery explosion and obliterating any trace it had ever existed. The shockwave from the explosion reached the suspended platform which was a kilometre away from the impact, rocking the factory dangerously and causing the constructor ship to veer sharply towards the surface for a moment, only to right itself ten seconds later, albeit after some struggling from the overworked engines.
Jake groggily fell backwards once Advena released him, resting his back against the tilted platform floor, his stomach churning slightly from all the heavy rocking. Even Advena felt a little woozy after the whole ordeal, and her kind are much sturdier than humans. His helmet crackled slightly as comms were patched in from the ship, the voice on the other end much clearer now that the distance between them was insignificant.
"When you're done vomiting and staring in awe, feel free to come aboard via portside seven," Tyler suggested in a tone that Jake just knew was accompanied by a shit-eating, self-satisfied smirk.
~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~
Back on Altin, in Jeica's designated briefing room within the concrete bunker, the lieutenant was leaning on the holo-table, head drooped in exasperation. To her right, a furious sergeant-major stood with his arms crossed and a mighty scowl on his lips. Across from her, Jake had his hands behind his back and his posture straight, while Tyler simply lounged on a chair – the only one in the room seated – with his elbow resting on the expensive table's surface.
"Let me get this straight," Jeica pleaded, the strain in her voice clear as day. "Hersley here says you flew an Anchor-Class Battle Cruiser – after punching the captain, might I add – into atmosphere, at flanking speed?" She rubbed her eyes warily, already anticipating the remorseless answer.
"Yeah. Also, in my defence, the captain wasn't cooperating fast enough for my liking. Besides, nobody except Hersley here saw anything, so what's the big deal? It can be our little secret."
"You little shit," Sergeant Major Hersley growled. "You could have killed us all! If you had even touched the surface, the entire fucking ship would have –"
"Hersley," Jeica snapped, holding out a stern hand to shut him up. She returned her attention to Tyler. "Was there any chance that you would crash the ship?"
"There's always a chance, lieutenant," Tyler said unhelpfully. "Nothing is ever guaranteed. In this case, the chance just happened to be incomprehensibly small. I know what I'm doing."
"So it seems," Jeica agreed. The holo table flickered to life, showing a beaten, but still functional, factory sitting in a flat, open area with a large storehouse of raw materials next to it. "Charlie Team recovered millions of dollars worth of military grade materials without a hitch, and Bravo Team managed to scrape through with the factory with minimal losses. Make this worth their sacrifices, Mister Doelle." Tyler spread his arms with a burdened smile.
"You say my name, yet you act like you don't know who I am. I'm Tyler Doelle – if anyone can make something worth your time, it's me."
"Get out," Jeica dismissed him. "Hersley, I'll finish our discussion later. Harlor, take a seat." Hersley looked enraged that no punishment had been dished out to the unruly civilian scientist, but did as he was told and ducked out of the room. Jeica nodded to the Xenomorph standing opposite the open doorway, who took it as their cue to prance inside quickly before the automatic door rumbled shut again. She took up residence on the chair next to Jake as the sergeant sat down, Jeica mirroring his actions.
"Is this official or…?" Jake asked awkwardly.
"Off the books. I trust you more than Tyler and that asshat Hersley, so what's your take?"
"I don't know what to tell you; I asked Tyler for help, he delivered. Honestly, if he had done anything else my entire team and I would probably be dead." Jeica nodded thoughtfully.
"You know that the smallest error would have crashed the ship into the ocean and detonated its reactor, destroying all life on half the planet, right? And you do know that flank speed is around three-hundred kilometres a second, right?"
"He seemed to think he could handle it and, quite frankly, he did. I trust my team Jeica, and Tyler's a part of that team now. After being in his head, I feel like I can guarantee you he's not going anywhere – as long as we treat him right." Jeica nodded acceptingly.
"And what about you two? Still holding up okay?"
"A little bored, to be honest. It'd be nice to have a day job to do between missions," Advena admitted. "I just haven't really found one worth doing that I'm allowed to do."
"I would suggest one of the thousand jobs in sore need of doing in my ranks," Jeica chuckled, "but something tells me you already have one in mind." Advena nodded guiltily, but Jeica just laughed it off. "Ah, it's fine, I still have Jake to be my lackey. Speaking of which, someone's taking double rations from the mess hall Sergeant, and the kitchen staff seem pretty tight-lipped about it." The lieutenant gave Jake an expectant look, causing him to sigh and give a loose salute in an almost mocking manner.
"I'll get right on that ma'am."