"Angus, we all know that the Confederacy rules with an iron fist, enforcing its will upon Korhal in a manner that is excessive. But this is a status quo mirrored on every one of its colonies and the fact remains that Korhal is still a prosperous world, regardless of its affiliation. But now, right in the aftermath of the Guild Wars, you want to start up another conflict based on ideology? Forget it Angus. It's not worth causing more pain and suffering based on the supposed right of each colony to assert independence. After all, the universe is a big place senator, and sooner or later, humanity will have to stand united, like it did when we first arrived in this sector. Sooner or later a threat will present itself that requires us to stand or fall together. And even if you don't believe me, keep this in mind when you return home…"
"Innocents die in wars Angus. And you should not have started this one."
Senator Cynthia Davies in frank discussion with Senator Angus Mengsk, just prior to the declaration of Korhal IV's independence
StarCraft: Loomings
Chapter 4: Strongarm
0313 hours November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Sons of Korhal Base, Arathi Basin
Grizzly hated Chau Sara.
Such a fact would not come as a surprise to many. Chau Sara was nowhere's proverbial middle and the Sons of Korhal were stuck right in the centre of it. Hell, it wasn't even the SOK proper that was here, just some small force that Mengsk had dumped on the world for no apparent reason.
What the hell is the old geyser thinking? Grizzly wondered, so nicknamed as he took after the appearance and muscle structure of a bear of the same name that lived on Old Earth. We're the Sons of Korhal! We should be putting the Old Families' heads on pikes and butchering the Council, not twiddling our thumbs on some backwater planet!
It was such goals that the private lived for, uncaring of Mengsk's ideology of establishing a more fair and democratic system of government in place of the near fascist Terran Confederacy. As long as he got to get his hands dirty and/or bloody (preferably both) on a regular basis, he was satisfied. Stuck on Chau Sara however, in a base that was poorly manned and equipped however, that didn't look set to happen.
Continuing his patrol of the perimeter, Grizzly looked up at the early morning sky. Not really to remark at the galaxy's supposed beauty, but simply to fantasize about that which was out of his reach. True, setting off bombs and in Los Andares was fine and dandy, but there were bigger, better things out there to destroy, ranging from Tarsonis itself to the space stations of the Sara System. True, the observation satellites couldn't provide much fun, but still, the science vessel that belonged to Epsilon Squadron could provide an alternative…
Shaking his head, the guard returned to reality. The SOK forces here didn't even have air support, let alone space fighters. Taking out a space station, even a defenseless one, was something that just wasn't going to happen. After all…
Grizzly's train of thought slowed down along with his pace. He slowly looked around. He was on the edge of the basin, the darkness being absolute here as the sun was yet to rise. Yet there was something…strange about it. It felt different, unnatural…As if he was being watched…
Slowly, the man unslung his submachine gun, undoing the safety even slower. There was nothing to fear really, and he knew it. After all, the Arathi Basin was an excellent defensive position. The only way in by ground was a series of canyons that offered no cover, allowing forward scouts to identify any incoming hostile force. Insertion from the air was certainly a possibility, but despite the relatively poor level of equipment, the SOK force had enough AA guns to mount an effective defense against any would-be attacker. Besides, knowing Confederate tactics, they'd come in guns blazing, destroying anything and everything. In short, they'd provide a warning of their arrival themselves. Suffice to say, that had not happened.
There was nothing to fear, Grizzly kept reminding himself. However, the fear remained. Not a conventional fear, but rather, a fear of the unknown, of what lay in the darkness. Of that strange, 'chittering' sound that kept repeating. It sounded like some kind of middle-ground between grasshoppers and cicadas, yet was also…well, alien.
Slowly, the soldier moved further to one of the basin entrances, firearm at the ready. Bravery was the confronting of fear rather than the absence of it and Grizzly was no coward. He didn't care that the chittering was getting louder. He didn't care that every one of instincts yelled at him to head back. He didn't care that if there was something to fear and that he may be walking into a place worse than hell. He…well, he didn't care about much right now, only the faint hope that he'd be able to use his SMG for something other than target practice and preventing his fear from smothering that hope.
Eventually though, he did begin to care. Care enough to realize that walking into a chitterring darkness wasn't the best of ideas and that at the least, he should equip himself for such conditions. Slowly and deliberately, his gun still raised, he reached for a pair of field binocculars, raising them to his single pair of eyes.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes glittered back at him.
Suddenly, Michael "Grizzly" Lincoln cared about a lot of things. He cared that he was looking at things not of this planet, or of any other planet in the Koprulu Sector. He cared that said things suddenly charged towards him, letting out screeches that acted as death's herald. He cared that the SMG's 9mm bullets were doing jack shit against them, courtesy of unbelievably tough hides and sheer weight of numbers. He cared when they pounced, tackling him to the ground.
And he especially cared when the things started tearing him apart limb from limb…
0357 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Arathi Basin (Grid G7)
Once, long ago, there was a country called France.
Leading her platoon through one of the valleys which led to the basin, Miranda Wilkes couldn't help but be taken back to 5th form history lessons back on Halcyon. Admittedly, there was little to remember. History wasn't something that was seen as particularly necessary on an agricultural planet and of what little was taught, Wilkes had never really been interested. Anything that was taught was related to the settlement of the Koprulu Sector, the Confederacy or Halcyon itself. To Wilkes, it had generally been a repetition of what she already knew. Every human child knew the story of human settlement in the galactic fringe and that the Confederacy was a "benevolent government that unified mankind in the "New World." You could only get so much out of two centuries of history.
The details of Halcyon's history was something new to her, partly because most of the lessons centered on a country called France back on Old Earth, a political entity that, like virtually every other country on the planet, had ceased to exist as an independent state by the early 23rd century, coming under the auspices of the United Powers League. Apparently the country had been renowned for its skills in viticulture, a practice which was Halcyon's main form of agricultural produce. As far as Wilkes could tell, Halcyon's colonial government had deemed it appropriate that its children be informed as to their homeworld's cultural background.
Wilkes had never paid much attention in those lessons. True, it had been pretty shocking to learn that France apparently featured species of giant snails that ate its people and equally large frogs that jumped across the sea to hunt people from an island known as Albion, but the novelty soon wore off. The only reason that the lessons were coming back to her now, was that there was a saying that she once heard as to the nature of the country, that all France was good for was hosting an invasion.
"Just like Chau Sara," Wilkes murmured.
"Pardon?"
The lieutenant's gaze turned to her side, seeing that Perry was still walking beside her. "What's like Chau Sara?" he asked curiously.
Wilkes un-polarized her visor, a small smile visible. "I didn't even know you were listening.
Perry gave a small shrug, or at least what was considered small for someone in CMC armor. "Gotta do something. May as well listen to you going on about God knows what."
Wilkes gave a small chuckle, although it sounded more like a giggle. "Come on Perry, there's lots of stuff to do out here." She threw out her arms in an exaggerated gesture, as if urging Perry to marvel at the beauty of nature. "We're out in the wild. Free from civilization, in Mother Nature's tender arms. You can gaze up at the sky, marvel at the canyon walls, look at…" She trailed off. Perry had un-polarized his visor too, though rather than a smile, she was greeted by a scowl.
"Don't do that," he said slowly. "Ever."
Wilkes was tempted to go on about how Perry didn't have a romantic bone in his body but decided not to. Besides, the sergeant didn't even give her a chance.
"So anyway, what's like Chau Sara?" Perry asked.
Wilkes decided to cut to the chase. "France," she said simply.
"France?"
Wilkes nodded, relieved that Perry wasn't as antagonistic as she anticipated him to be. "Yes, France. In that all Chau Sara is good for is hosting an invasion."
Perry raised an eyebrow. "I see…" he said slowly, revealing himself to be a hopeless liar. "And how is that, exactly?"
Wilkes was faintly aware that she was beginning to sound like a child who was going on about winning some prize to his or her parents. Regardless, she pressed on.
"Look at the militia's combat records," continued Wilkes. "Engagements with the SOK have been few, almost no-existent."
"So what? The militia has been lazy then," Perry murmured, the tone of his voice indicating that he wasn't interested. Wilkes either ignored it or didn't notice, pressing on;
"Perhaps, but consider their equipment," the lieutenant continued. "CMC-200 armor, T Series pistols…" She let out a sigh. "Collins has been skimpy. And now, thanks to him, we're forced to-…"
"Damit Wilkes, will you shut the hell up!?"
The fact that a non-commissioned officer was acting like a rabid skalet at his commanding officer did not go unnoticed, many of the platoon's heads turning to watch the spectacle. If Perry noticed, there was no indication.
"Ma'am, this mission stinks to high heaven and with all due respect, we have more important things to worry about than militia incompetence. I-…"
"Of course this mission stinks!" Wilkes shouted, matching Perry's gutso "We're playing the role of executioners, going against every rule of war, and right now focusing on-…"
"Wilkes, if you were even the least bit focused, you be worried about the chain of command rather than some lousy rebels who're going to get what's coming to them!"
By this stage Wilkes and Perry had stopped walking and by default, the platoon as a whole. Few, if any of the marines were worried. Watching their superiors go at each other like children provided far more satisfaction than gunning down rebels. With rebels, Alpha Squadron's victory was assured. Their superiors going for each others' throats was a different story however, and bets were already being taken.
"Chain of command?" Wilkes asked, more confused than angry. "What are you on about?"
Perry sighed, his anger in turn having given way mainly to frustration. "Wilkes, think about it. We have a large Sons of Korhal force on this world and only a single company has been sent to deal with it."
"So? Alpha Squadron is the best of the best."
Perry snorted at that but continued. "Yes, but since when is a single company separated from the rest of its division? Antiga Prime can handle itself, while the SOK are public enemy number one. Why leave a larger force to deal with the less significant threat?"
Part of Wilkes' mind prompted her to tell Perry that it would be more correct use of terminology to claim that Arcturus Mengsk was public enemy number one rather than a group. Still, she remained silent.
"And that's not all," Perry continued. "Alpha Squadron is a rapid strike force. Yet here we are, walking around in canyons, heading for the center basin that should just as easily be observed from the air. I…Wilkes?"
Wilkes was no longer paying attention, yet given that she was clutching her rifle tightly, Perry suspected that she may have good reason. "Ma'am?" Perry asked, far more formal than he usually was.
Wilkes remained silent, simply making some signals with her hand. Perry, and indeed every marine in the platoon, recognized it as an order to move into a squad support formation and prime their weaponry while they were at it.
"Perry, Ayers, Sparrow, with me," Wilkes whispered. "Fifth platoon, turn off illuminators. Maintain radio and vocal silence." With that, she began slowly edging forward, Perry, Ayers and Sparrow following.
Perry noted that it was an interesting combination. Private Ayers was perhaps the most stoic soldier of the platoon while Corporal Sparrow was its most trigger-happy member, albeit one that shot accurately. It showed too, at least in their movements. Both had their visors down, but even so, Perry could guess what their visages would convey, standing in contrast to his own…
Concern.
"You feel that?" Wilkes whispered as Perry moved up behind her in standard fire team formation.
"Yeah…" said Perry slowly, knowing what she was referring to. That feeling at the back of your mind, the feeling that makes your muscules tighten and your hair prickle. Perry doubted that Wilkes' hair was prickling since she'd somehow managed to avoid having it cut down to regulation length, but even so…
"Turn your illuminators off," Wilkes whispered. "Perry, switch to infa-red."
Silently, the platoon followed as ordered. Although the sun was beginning to rise, the switching off of the CMC-300 Powered Combat Suit illuminators left the valley in darkness. Only Wilkes and Perry could see with any great clarity; infa-red vision was built into the visors of a few power suits, but generally only officers had access to them and even then it wasn't universal. As part of Alpha Squadron, which received the best equipment the Confederacy could field, Wilkes and Perry were two of the lucky ones.
"Ma'am?" Perry asked, gripping his gauss rifle just as tightly as his superior. "Why are you-…"
"We're being watched," Wilkes murmured. "And I don't want to present a target."
"Watched?" Perry asked. "Are you-…"
"Perry, I've served in these kind of conditions before. I know that we're not alone and so do you."
The staff sergeant had to concede the point. There was something eerie about the valley they were in. Something…non-human. They were not alone, yet instinct implied that there was more to it than this. Perry looked around, the infa-red showing the valley in clarity. There was nothing and yet…something was there. Something was nearby.
And the fact that his radio was crackling with static wasn't helping. He checked the source via his HUD. Wilkes was looping her feed into his own, picking up something on a general TACCOM that she thought it best to hear. Considering that the panicked voice of Lieutenant Craven could be heard, Perry couldn't blame her;
"…I repeat, we are under attack by hostile forces!" Craven shouted, the sounds of gunfire, shouts and screams in the background, said screams not always sounding human. "…outnumbered…pulling back…I repeat, request…fuck, they've…Jesus!"
"Craven, what the hell is going on!?" shouted a voice that Perry recognized as Fisher's."
"Fisher? This is Craven, we're…"
Craven never got to finish his sentence. Perry could not be entirely sure why, but given the proximity of the screams, it sounded like his own had been added to the general symphony of shouts, screams and shots. A prelude to what filtered through his radio from the other platoons as the case was…
"Contacts! Lots of contacts!"
"What in the name of…"
"Kill em! Kill 'em!"
"Sir, we have to…"
"Don't even think about it marine!"
"Flick it, I'm-…
"Argh! Get it off me!"
"Don't just stand there! Open fire!"
"Collins, are you there!?" Fisher exclaimed, the sound of his own gauss rifle clattering away. "Damit Collins, respond!"
He's broadcasting on an open channel?" Perry wondered. "Things really must have gone to hell.
"Captain, this better be important," drawled Collins' voice.
"Magistrate, my company needs reinforcements five minutes ago!" Fisher shouted, the screams and gunfire becoming more pronounced.
Collins yawned. "What?"
"Damit Collins, we've got incoming! Lots of incoming and I'm damned if I can identify them!"
Collins chuckled "What's that captain? Can't even identify the Sons of Korhal?"
"Damit Collins, they're not even human!"
"What? Perry whispered.
Collins seemed equally taken aback, given a few seconds passed before he responded, sounding calm, yet slightly…disturbed.
"Well whatever they are you must destroy them, captain. That's a direct order." With that, he signed off.
"Destroy them when we're outnumbered ten to one!?" Fisher exclaimed. "Collins? Collins!? Damit, pick up the transceiver you piece of slimy-…"
Exactly what Fisher's next insult was, Perry never found out, courtesy of more screaming. Screaming that was unusually close. Screaming that was courtesy of Corporal Sparrow as something tore into him.
The screaming didn't last long. Despite his armor, the thing easily tore into his jugular vein, blood pouring out. A second its own blood was added to the valley floor, courtesy of Wilkes, Perry and Ayers opening fire with their gauss rifles. It never had a chance, 8mm spikes moving at hypersonic speeds tearing into its flesh. Blasted off the body of its victim, it lay there in a pool of its own blood; red like a human, yet not quite human. Almost as if…
"An alien," Ayers whispered. "It's a flicking alien."
Both Perry and Wilkes remained silent as they moved forward, looking down at their assailant. It was almost like a dog…if dogs had scales, two large claws on each foot, two scythe protrusions extending from its shoulder, black, soulless eyes…
Alright, screw it. The dog analogy was a bad one. After all, dogs did not suddenly start erupting from the ground all around them and bound down cliffs, hungering for blood. Moving in a co-coordinated fashion. Seemingly capable of setting up an ambush…
Perry froze. For the first time in his life, he froze. He couldn't believe it. He'd always dealt with the facts, knowing that they obeyed the rules of reality. Yet here the facts were different. The platoon, indeed, the entire company from the sound of things, were under attack by…things. Insect-like things. Things bent on their destruction. Things that were…well, alien.
It was all too much for Perry and given the lack of activity in the platoon, too much for the marines also. They were trained to fight rebels and other enemies of the Confederacy, not the stuff of nightmares. Wilkes was the only exception, her voice drifting over the com system, raising Perry out of his stupor…
"Open fire," 1st Lieutenant Miranda Wilkes said calmly. "Open fire and kill them all."
0413 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Arathi Basin (Grid H1)
TRANSCRIPT/ CONCOM 616/ MET: 00:02:01
Call-sign: Shadow Trident
Designation: ST
Call-sign: Dark Zero
Designation: DZ
Play
ST: Recon Squad Cerberus reporting. Dark Zero, do you copy, over?
DZ: Dark Zero receiving, link with Shadow Trident established. Report status, over.
ST: Landing successful sir. Preparing to engage xenomorphs as per Mission Pattern Sigma, over.
DZ: Cancel that order, over.
ST: Pardon? Please repeat, over.
DZ: Things have gotten out of hand, Trident. Xenomorph infestation is greater than anticipated. They've engaged an Alpha Squadron force, over.
ST: Wasn't that part of the plan in the first place sir? To use the Alphas to lure the xenomorphs out?
DZ:…Let's just say that they did a better job than we expected. Regardless, I'm sending you new data, over.
HUD Download: Alpha Squadron 14th, Echo Company (designation: Snow Pigeon)
CO: Captain Hugh Fisher
Strength: Five platoons
Locations: D4, G7 (see corresponding grid reference)
Status: Critical
DZ: Engage phase maneuver Lambda, over.
ST: Affirmative, carrying out maneuver, over.
External COM;
ST: First squad, make your way to Grid D4. Second squad, follow my lead to Grid G7. One skullder per squad.
Internal COM;
ST: Dark Zero, this is Shadow Trident. Movement Lambda executed, over.
DZ: Confirmation received Dark Zero. Good luck.
The following record is placed under Class 5 Seal as per Confederate Security Act of 2490, Article 13, sub-section 17. Any breach of protocol will result in instant court martial and likely discharge under the terms of Disciplinary Code VF-115STC.
End transcript.
0428, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Arathi Basin (Grid G7)
Aliens. They were under attack by flicking aliens.
Alright, Wilkes couldn't be absolutely sure of that. The Koprulu Sector wasn't totally devoid of life, ranging from the ursadon on Braxis to the now domesticated Umojan insects. Chau Sara was still mostly unexplored and for all she knew, these…things could be native.
Yet in her heart, Miranda knew that they weren't. Instinct, inherent terran psionic potential…she didn't care. She knew that they were not natural. She knew that they meant harm. She knew that they meant to wipe the Alphas out and despite it being a sad indictment of the nature of life, she knew that the only way to avoid this was to return the favour.
Providing they don't exterminate us first, Wilkes mused, letting out another burst of 8mm spikes that gutted one of the things as it charged towards her. It was a sight being repeated all along the line, the Marines using their C-14s to fire in short, controlled bursts. One-on-one, a single creature had no chance against one of the human soldiers. Spikes being fired via magnetic acceleration at up to 30 rounds per second when fully automatic tended to convey such an fact aptly. Here and there a fragmentation grenade would detonate, courtesy of the in-built attachment in the rifle, but overall, the Blood Hawks were keeping the creatures at bay.
Yet it was not the creatures' losses that Wilkes was noticing, but rather their own. Here and there, one of the things would come into close quarters, bearing their scythes to bear. Although the CMC armor often provided protection, "often" did not translate to "always", the bodies of a few unfortunate souls lying on the ground, not breathing.
And that was what really disturbed Wilkes, he rifle's LED flashing a red 000, a status mirrored on her HUD. She slammed home another clip and resumed fire. A single platoon of forty could only afford limited losses. These creatures on the other hand…there was no end to them.
At this rate we could run out of ammo before the last of us bites it, she thought, letting out a fully automatic burst to gun down three of the abominations as they charged towards her.
"Keep your fire down Wilksy, we need the ammo!" Perry shouted, blasting one of the things as it jumped towards him. He brought his armored boot down on the creature's neck, snapping it.
"Concentrate on your own targets and I'll concentrate on mine!" Wilkes retorted. Faced with hell's children, she wasn't in the mood to screw around. After all-
"Ah! Get it off me!"
Wilkes spun around to her right, her suit's aural directional enhancers pinpointing the sound's source. Said source was Private Ayers, sprawled on the ground as one of the things plunged a scythe into his lower right abdomen.
The second scythe never descended, Wilkes blasting the limb off in a short burst. As the creature screeched in pain, she unleashed a second burst, the spikes ripping through the creature's side, thick red blood gushing out. Mixing with Ayers' own.
"Sorry ma'am, got careless," the man winced as Wilkes knelt down.
"Shut up and stay still," Wilkes murmured, detached, but not unkind. She knelt down and activated his suit's lockdown system, as was standard procedure to stabilize wounded soldiers and/or prevent a shorted-out suit from misfiring.
"Hang tight Ayers. We'll pull through."
"Will do ma'am. And thanks."
Wilkes stood back up, looking around the platoon's battle radius as she did so. It had become noticeably smaller than before, the Marines having pulled back to a tighter perimeter. The lieutenant sighed. Flamethrowers or even firebats themselves would have been ideal in these circumstances and all things considered, those specialists would have welcomed it. Unfortunately, the original mission profile had stressed the wide area available as rendering close-quarters weaponry redundant. As such, all of Wilkes' fire teams consisted of chain-gun cannon armed Marines. While their firepower was doing a good job of keeping the creatures at bay, bullets couldn't compare to flame in these-
"Schree!"
Wilkes let out a yell as she was tackled to the ground, her gauss rifle clattering on the ground beside her. Her HUD flashing warning lights, she lifted it, not wanting to be distracted in what could be the last moments of her life. An exaggeration perhaps, but locking her grey eyes with the black, soulless ones of the creature currently one her chest, that could have well been the case.
For a second, the woman could not move, having an encounter of a very close kind. The thing barred its teeth, revealing razor sharp fangs, flanked by two mandibles. It tilted its scaled, segmented head, as if it were a cat studying a mouse…its prey.
Oh god… Wilkes thought, panic beginning to well up in her. Pray…that's all I am to it…
It certainly seemed to be the case, the thing letting out a screech as it raised its right scythe, ready to plunge down into the human below it.
It never made contact.
With speed driven by pure instinct, Wilkes' left armored hand shot up, grabbing the skinned area of the scythe, the extension of the body which led to the blade. It was strong. Surprisingly strong…Regardless, the CMC-300 Powered Combat Suit was stronger, allowing Wilkes to keep one scythe at bay with her left hand, draw out her slugthrower pistol with her right and fire three rounds into the creature's neck. It slumped down…dead.
Wilkes held the pistol up, letting the morning sunlight glint over its polished surface. Maybe this thing isn't so useless after all, she thought, remembering how the slugthrower was next to useless against powered armor. "After all, if it can take out a-…"
The pistol was suddenly knocked out of her grasp, courtesy of an organic scythe…a scythe linked to another creature that landed on top of her.
The lieutenant's eyes went wide. The slugthrower…it knew it was a weapon…it was intelligent enough to realize that disarming its human opponent left the human helpless…helpless enough to…
Wilkes stifled a cry of pain as the creature's left scythe plunged down into the less armored section of her inner right arm. It thrust through metal and flesh, pinning her arm to the ground.
Letting out a shout of both range and pain, Wilkes began pummeling it with her free left hand. Not exactly her fist of choice, but the powered armor provided enough strength to leave it dazed…or at least dazed long enough for the Marine to unlatch her helmet and slam it against the side of the creature's head, rendering it unconscious.
Slughtrower, helmet, what's next? Wilkes wondered, trying to ignore the shivery sensation that ran through her arm, even as a tourniquet sealed the breach. At this rate I'll-…
The helmet suddenly went flying aside, courtesy of a third creature that landed on top of her. This time, Wilkes did let out a cry of pain as it sunk one scythe into her left shoulder blade, the right heading…to the side?
"You ok Wilksy?" came a voice.
Wilkes looked up at Perry, a primed gauss rifle in his hand, one which had sent the third creature to its grave
"P…Perry?" Wilkes stammered.
"Hey, don't look at me like that," said Perry hastily, helping her up. "We can hardly afford to lose our CO can we?"
Wilkes somehow doubted that. This was a one for all fight, every man and woman for him/herself. What purpose did command serve in a kill or be killed scenario?
Very little, thought Wilkes bitterly, fighting back tears of pain and shame. She cast her gaze around what remained of the platoon, namely half of it. The line had still held, but was so fragmented, so thin, that it was only a matter of time until the creatures…
…were blasted away?
"What the hell!?" Perry exclaimed.
"Look. From the north," said Wilkes softly. She raised her left arm while clutching Perry's with her right. Perry followed the line she set, seeing what looked like a skullder combat walker, flanked by a squad of firebats.
"The cavalry?" Perry murmured.
"Hell if I know."
Cavalry or not, it served the same purpose. Realizing the greater threat, the creatures, screeching and charging as one, bounding to the north.
They never stood a chance.
As one, the terran force opened fire. The skullder, an upgraded version of the goliath combat walker, let rip with its belly mounted 30mm auto cannon ripped the dog impersonations apart, hellfire-anti-air missiles proving equally adept against ground targets as aerial ones. Firebat napalm rockets joined the volley, incinerating the dead and living alike. Even the few critters that made it through the barrage were incinerated by the firebats' plasma-based perdition flamethrowers, or, in some cases, dispatched by their own hands.
It was over in minutes
"What…the hell…was that?" Perry asked slowly. Wilkes looked around what remained of her platoon. Judging by the quizzical gazes and movements of her soldiers, she suspected that they were all asking the same question.
"Alpha Squadron 14th, 5th platoon?" asked a deep, raspy voice. Wilkes looked back to their saviors, the force coming in range. What looked like the head firebat was walking ahead of his squad.
"And if we are?" Wilkes asked, looking straight at the firebat's polarized visor. She went to lift down her own, only to remember that her helmet was lying somewhere on the dirt around her.
"Well if you're not, then we've wasted our time," the firebat grunted, stepping forward. Perry went to intercede but Wilkes held him back. No need to piss off someone who could incinerate you in seconds.
"Yes, we are," said Wilkes, studying the firebat's shoulder pads of his teal colored CMC-660 Heavy Combat Suit; the same color as the rest of his force. The two silver bars of a Captain were on one, a black, three headed dog on the other.
Cerberus… thought Wilkes, remembering something else from history. The three headed dog which guarded the gates of hell in Greek mythology…"
"What are you here for?" asked Perry suspiciously. "Here to help out with the SOK?"
The firebat chuckled. "No staff sergeant, the SOK has been dealt for us. We're here to return the favor."
"Return the favor?" Wilkes asked, unable to take all this in. "Meaning…what?"
The firebat remained silent before lifting his visor. A pale, scarred visage greeted them.
"I'm Captain Shiff Arlo of Cerberus Recon Squad," he growled. "And we're here to kill anything and everything on this God forsaken rock that isn't human." He looked around, marveling at his force's handiwork.
"And this, Blood Hawks, is just the beginning…"