"The initial discovery of alien spores on a number of Fringe Worlds in early 2487 opened up a world of opportunities. Although their sites of infection had to be steralized, the potential boons overshadowed such sacrifices. A substance known as "creep", which could proliferate even in vacuum and "larvae", organisms with billions of potential genetic combinations for metamorphosis into higher organisms. The applications for the use of such properties were thought to be endless and their arrival on the Fringe Worlds a blessing. In our arrogance, we missed that which was standing before our eyes…"
"With each discovery, it was realised that the xenomorphs had arrived on inner Fringe Worlds first, then slowly making their way outward, seemingly originating somewhere from within the galaxy's inner regions. Why would this be the case? Why were spores only found on backwater worlds, unlikely to be discovered by their inhabitants? How could a series of worlds be seeded just by blind chance in such a comparatively small timeframe? Why was it that these creatures bypassed our territory in the Koprulu Sector, only to begin proliferation in one of its most remote corners?"
"There was a purpose behind such seeding. And I fear what that purpose might be…"
Professor William Gardner, researcher at the Fujita Facility
StarCraft: Loomings
Chapter 6: The Gauntlet
2309 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Fort Keldathu
Spartan…that's how he would describe it.
It was strange how the most bare, drab, and universally gray room in the known universe took Edwin Collins back to primary school history lessons, especially since he'd never paid much attention to them anyway. There was only so much history that someone could obtain from a mere two centuries of settlement, especially with the first six decades featuring your kind stuck on a single world living like bloody Luddites. And when the only alternative was Earth history, a history that was irrelevant to current circumstances and full of holes due to the malfunctioning of ATLAS, the Artificial Tele-empathic Logistics Analysis System that had guided the Nagglfar to Tarsonis in the first place, any lesson in the damned subject was guaranteed to be either be skimpy, boring or quite often both.
Still, for Collins at least, there had been exceptions. One of those exceptions had been the history of Sparta, a city state in Greece back on Earth that featured the most formidable warriors in history. Although Greek history had only been taught for a week, courtesy of the lack of information available, Collins had found himself engrossed. After all, who couldn't help but be fascinated at a kingdom of near invincible super soldiers?
A lot of people really. Perhaps that was why brute force was the preferred method of solving problems than common sense in humanity.
There'd been a price to this martial prowess however, and that had been harsh living. And looking at what accounted for his quarters in Fort Keldathu, Chau Sara's primary, and for all intents and purposes, only stronghold, Collins had come to the conclusion that the Spartan lifestyle had been overrated. Hell, you knew you were in trouble when a toilet was within five meters of your bed.
"I trust that everything is in order sir?" came a robotic voice. Collins turned back to face the servo servant, the robot bringing up his suitcase.
Collins simply nodded, most of his attention focussed on gauging the area of his quarters and not liking the results.
"Very well sir," the servo servant answered in a monotone. "Please call me, or one of my counterparts should you require any further assistance.
Collins watched the servo servant exit from the room, closing the door behind it. It was no wonder that so many people back on Tarsonis preferred employing human servants as opposed to androids. Regular servants were never perfect and thus people one could vent their frustration on whenever and however they felt like it. Servo servants, seven feet tall, three hundred pounds and mass produced were…well, perfect, and thus not a reasonable outlet of rage. Well, they did break down on a regular basis, but that was capitalism for you. Keep the repair shops busy and all that.
Collins lay down on the bed, the mattress sinking down into springs that seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Things were moving too fast for him.
In a single day, the magistrate's circumstances, and indeed his life itself had changed dramatically. Life had been normal up until yesterday; signing documents, worrying about rebels, getting pissed at his Adjutant…Now however, he was stuck to a single bedroom and bathroom dwelling, set in a fort manned by 'professional' militia who'd probably shoot him at the slightest provocation. Oh, and there was also the fact that Chau Sara was currently featuring a xenomorph outbreak that, according to Lieutenant Colonel Xavier Kurze, was not an outbreak at all, but an invasion.
The Vigilance, Collins reflected. It was the xenomorphs who created that overlay. It wasn't the Sons of Korhal that destroyed it. It was aliens. Honest to god aliens… Even though the existence of the xenomorphs had been known to him for years, he was still having trouble taking all of this in.
Collins had no idea what this wave of invaders wanted and didn't even want to consider what they would do to achieve their goals. "Kill all the terrans!" seemed to be a reasonable expectation, at least judging by the attack on Alpha Squadron and the butchering of the SOK forces, but even after having access to the Flannum Installation's files, Collins suspected that only Kurze knew the answer.
Speaking of which…
Collins reached into his trouser pocket, the source of the beeping that had drawn him back to reality. He sighed as he pulled out the comm. pad, the small screen pinpointing the source of the transmission as the Charon. With a groan, Collins activated the anti-grav system and clicked receive. With a soft humming sound, the comm. pad drifted towards the centre of the room.
For the most part, the comm. pad was identical in function to the full fledged comm. unit, able to not only send and receive signals but pinpoint their point of origin as well. Its main extra function however (technically it was its only extra function but few marketers would tell you that), was that it was capable of displaying holograms of the sender/recipient, possessing a small anti-grav system so it could display the image from above.
Collins wished that he only had a regular comm. unit right now. He didn't want to see Kurze's ugly mug, even if it was only in a hologram…
"Magistrate Collins," the image of the Lieutenant Colonel said as if greeting an old friend, his cybernetic visage distinct even with the glitchy system. "Taking things easy already I see."
Collins suddenly remembered that he was still lying down on the bed. He managed to resist the instinct to sit back up however. Not only was the overhead shelf exceptionally low, but doing so would merely reflect Kurze's authority over him. And after what had happened a few hours ago, Collins was in no mood to indulge the bastard.
"Go to hell," Collins grunted eloquently. "I may not be in my office anymore, but I am still the-…"
"Magistrate of Chau Sara, yes, I know," Kurze interrupted impatiently. "And for all intents and purposes, magistrate, you are in your office and will treat it as such."
Collins glanced at the nearby desk and, for a variety of reasons, quickly withdrew his gaze.
"Your files have been converted to paper format and will be delivered shortly," Kurze continued. "All in perfect condition from what I understand."
Collins snorted at that, remembering what had happened only a few hours ago.
In hindsight, he should have known it was coming. After all, one didn't get officers from Black Ops units telling you that your planet was under siege by alien organisms and leaving it at that. For most of the day, Collins had gone about his business, assuming that Kurze was simply applying the usual formalities of colonial protocol and was set to deal with the infestation, no questions asked. It had therefore come as a surprise however when, around 7pm, the door to his office had been slammed open, two Cerberus firebats in the doorway.
You're coming with us, they'd said. You have five minutes.
Collins had initially been under the impression that Los Andares was under attack and that he was evacuated to a safe location, hence why he was ready within four minutes. As it turned out however, while his latter assumption was true, the former was not. Dragged out of his office by two psychotics wearing CMC-660 Heavy Combat Suits and hauled into the rear of an armoured personnel carrier, Collins had attracted quite a few stares of people who were blissfully unaware of the xenomorphs' existence.
Collins had asked where they were taking him. One minute of awkward silence later and he resolved not to ask anymore questions.
"Remind me again," said Collins slowly, the four hour drive to the middle of nowhere still fresh in his mind, "why I'm taking orders from you."
"Um, because your world is under siege by a swarm of aliens?" Kurze asked simply, as if worst case first contact scenarios were an everyday occurrence.
"Yes, but I'm still the magistrate of this colony," Collins answered, sitting up slowly. "And I don't see why I should be taking orders from an immoral bastard such as yourself."
Kurze snorted at that. "You were the one who called them in Collins. Remember that when you go to the memorial service."
Collins knew what Kurze was talking about, and the magistrate knew it. The xenomorph invasion had started long before early November, most likely on the same day that the Vigilance was destroyed, and the Confederacy was fully aware of the situation. How else could Cerberus arrive at the scene so quickly?
Of course, they'd needed bait, to lure out the xenomorph threat proper and gauge its severity. Collins' request for reinforcements had been genuine, but still general. Hence why only a single Alpha Squadron Company had been sent in with no support; Antiga Prime had been the closest source of Confederate forces and a Company would be large enough to draw the xenomorphs out, yet small enough to be considered expendable. Colonel Duke and his fellow commanders might think otherwise, but their hands were tied up with UNN reporters and keeping Antiga Prime short of full fledged rebellion. One Company was hardly going to be missed.
For all intents and purposes, Collins had been used. That was what irked him. The Alphas had been expendable of course, as was the role of a soldier, but this was something different.
"Besides, don't you think it's a bit rich for you of all people to be calling anyone immoral?" Kurze continued. "What with your record and all?"
"I…I don't know what you're talking about," Collins lied.
"Indeed?" Kurze sneered. "Forgotten about Korhal so soon?"
Collins mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but not sound came out. Kurze thus continued;
"Thirty five million dead via nuclear bombardment," said the Cerberus commander simply. "Twenty battlecruisers, one thousand Apocalypse-class missiles with nuclear warheads attached and a world of blackened glass. Hardly a flattering record, is it?"
"I…I was under orders…"
"Of course you were," said Kurze, waving his hand, his ocular implant twinkling. "Understand it's nothing personal of course. The destruction of Korhal was a regrettable, but necessary action. Still, more planets can always be found and fortunately for us, human lives are a resource that there is an abundance of."
Collins fell silent, his eyes widening as he pondered what scared him more; Kurze's access to his personal record or the fact that the Lieutenant Colonel seemed to genuinely believe his words. Collins quickly settled on the latter. He knew that lives were expendable of course, what military commander didn't? Still, he'd never call human lives a resource…
How the hell did this man come to be a commissioned officer? Collins wondered. Or is that part of the reason?
"Still, there are many who would disagree with me," Kurze continued. "Many who would love to see the remaining captains of those battlecruisers hung by their entrails and paraded throughout Tarsonis City."
"And…you would tell them…about me?" Collins asked, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. "Tell them where I am?"
Kurze shrugged. "If I deem it necessary. Still, if I do deem it necessary, I can just as easily have you assassinated as having you fed into a blender and deposited out of several canine rectum." He smiled as he looked at Collins' pale visage. "Of course, that is not yet required and as long as you acknowledge my authority in this matter, it won't be." He leant forward. "Do I make myself clear, magistrate?"
Collins nodded slowly, only now understanding that his transfer to Keldathu was not so much to keep him safe, but so that Kurze could keep tabs on him. "Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. Perfectly clear."
"Good," answered the Cerberus commander, his image leaning back into what Collins supposed was a chair. He started typing on something outside the image.
"Hmm, interesting…" he murmured.
"Something up?" Collins asked curiously, his fear temporarily forgotten.
"Oh, just a small update on the situation with the Flannum Installation," said Kurze simply. "It's fallen to the xenomorphs but by accessing the facility's bio-scanners, we've determined that there are still a number of Confederate scientists inside."
"What!?" Collins exclaimed, his fear forgotten. "Why is this the first I've heard of an attack on the installation!? And how the hell did you override my security clearance!? I'm the only one with the facility's access codes! This is-…"
I told you before, Magistrate, I don't answer to you," Kurze snarled. "Or has your brain become so bloated with God knows what that you have a memory span of less than two minutes?"
Collins slowly faced the floor. "No sir. Sorry sir."
Kurze remained silent for a few seconds before letting out a grunt. "Whatever. Cerberus and the Alphas will deal with the situation and considering that the xenomorphs have yet to attack any major population center, we should be able to keep their existence under wraps. In the meantime…" He trailed off. "Hell, I don't know. Twiddle your thumbs or something." With an exaggerated click, he signed off.
Thoroughly shaken by the experience, and not wanting to give Kurze any excuse to follow through on the threats he'd made, Collins proceeded to do just that.
2317 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Lazaran Gulleys, Grid K12
"Damit Kurze, I want answers and I want them now!"
Courtesy of being the Company's commanding officer, Fisher was entitled to his own armoured personnel carrier, the interior layered with interfacing equipment that would help him co-ordinate his troops better. By way of this emptiness, his exclamation reverberated throughout, reminding the man that he was no longer the captain of Echo Company, but rather what was left of it.
And whose fault is that? Fisher asked himself. The xenomorphs? Or this bastard?
"I understand your desire for information about the xenomorphs, Captain, but I'm really not at liberty to tell you much." The hologram of Lieutenant Colonel Xavier Kurze gave the most insincere smile possible.
"Well what do you know?" snarled Fisher.
"Only little tibits," said the commander simply. "Suffice to say, they are currently the subject of high level research at the Flannum Installation and several other-…"
"Flannum Installation!?" Fisher spluttered. "That's where we're headed!"
"And this is relevant why, exactly?" Kurze asked, tilting his head to the side. "You got the message two hours ago to head to the Lazaran Gulleys. Why else would you be sent there? To pick daisies?"
Fisher shook his head, reflecting that it would be a cold day in hell before he found any kind of flower on this barren rock.
"Moving on," Kurze continued, "we'd quarantined a number of these creatures for study, but shortly after our science crews began their experiments all communication with the Flannum Installation was lost."
"And that's where Alpha Squadron comes in, isn't it?" asked Fisher slowly, already knowing the answer.
Kurze nodded. "Affirmative. The installation has been compromised, and preliminary scanner sweeps indicate the area is crawling with hostiles. My Cerberus unit will handle the situation inside, but we require Alpha Squadron's assistance getting there."
Fisher nodded grimly. "We'll get the job done."
"Good," grunted the Lieutenant Colonel. He went to withdraw from the connection but suddenly drew back.
"Something else?" asked Fisher wryly.
"Yes," answered the Cerberus commander. "I just want to remind you that all other information is on a strict need to know basis. And should you reveal any of this information to your men…well, let's just say that not only xenomorphs will be hungering for your blood."
Given the glow in Kurze's eyes, both organic and cybernetic, Fisher didn't doubt that.
2321 hours, November 8, 2499
Sara System, Chau Sara
Lazaran Gulleys, Grid I9
"The more the merrier" was a saying that Perry usually agreed with. Moving northwest through the Lazaran Gulleys to the objective flanked by Cerberus goliaths however, right now was an exception.
It was a feeling that Echo Company, or rather what was left of it, seemed to share, the total number reduced by almost half. The attack this morning had cost them dearly with forty percent casualties, thirty percent confirmed as killed in action. And considering that Alpha Squadron was the only meaningful force on this world apart from a poorly trained and equipped colonial militia, a force that was against an unknown number of hostiles, circumstances were hardly looking favourable. Not even Cerberus could change that assessment.
Perry was glad that it was late at night and that he had his visor down, knowing that grunts seeing a pale staff sergeant was hardly going to help boost their low confidence.
Cerberus Recon Squad, a.k.a. the Hellbringers. A black ops squadron that dealt with…well, Perry wasn't sure exactly what they did and suspected that every Blood Hawk on this planet was in the same boat as he was. Still, given that the force's arrival had coincided with the emergence of the xenomorphs and that they had access to advanced skullder units (or the Cerberus goliath as the pilots insisted on it being called, as if desperate to maintain a degree of confidentiality), Perry had a good idea.
Then why, he thought, doesn't that make me feel any better?
In truth, Perry knew the answer. Cerberus' presence alone reeked of black ops and the timing of their arrival only reinforced this feeling. And now, Echo Company was marching through the Lazaran Valleys for an unknown reason. Two hours had passed since they'd been dispatched from Gilneas and Captain Fisher had yet to provide an explanation.
Hell, maybe he's just as much in the dark as the rest of us.
Somehow however, Perry doubted that. It wasn't exactly uncommon for commissioned officers to remain in a command and control centre, whether it be a full fledged headquarters or a mobile vehicle such as a dropship or APC. And while Fisher had likely followed his own initiative by not separating the Company into its various platoons and instead opting for strength in numbers, there were no doubt other initiatives that he was following. Initiatives no doubt spurred by those higher in the chain of command.
It's the Arathi Basin all over again, Perry thought bitterly as his walking pace became almost non-existent, noting the similarities between the gulleys here and the canyons he was in almost twenty-four hours ago; dull, lifeless and essentially a representation of the bulk of Chau Sara. And to top it off, Alpha Squadron was once again marching to hell's gate rather than acting as the rapid strike force that it was meant to be.
The only difference here is that-…
"You alright Perry?"
With a start, the marine brought his gauss rifle around, straight into the chest of Miranda Wilkes. To her credit, the lieutenant simply stood there, looking down the gun's barrel to its user. Or maybe it was the knowledge that at least ten other marines had their rifles trained on Perry that prompted her confidence.
"Orders ma'am?" asked one of them, a trigger happy gun ho rookie known as Private Keyes. Perry suspected that he'd be just as happy shooting him as the…things that they'd faced before.
"Move on marines," said Wilkes casually, waving her hand towards the northwest. "The sergeant just needs some 'me time.'"
Perry was once again glad that his visor was down as the guns were lowered and their users moved on. Even in the darkness, there would be no missing his reddening cheeks.
His next action only served to redden them further…
"Sorry about that ma'am," the Staff Sergeant murmured as he caught up with Wilkes, who'd moved off even as the gun had still been pointing at her. "Not sure what came over me."
"I do," said Wilkes simply as she continued walking, not even glancing in Perry's direction. "You're jittery."
"Jittery!?" Perry exclaimed. "What makes you say that I'm-…"
"It's only natural of course," Wilkes continued, ignoring the NCO's outburst. "Not only have we been attacked by a swarm of things less than twenty-four hours ago, but we're now in a series of valleys reminiscent of where said things first attacked us. Oh, and there's the fact that our objective, which Fisher has notably failed to inform us on the details, has to do with them."
Perry fell silent for a few seconds, comprehending not only his superior's words, but the paradox that had been set up. That she was lecturing him on current circumstances pertaining to combat. Overall, Perry found the feeling irked him, yet was also…gratifying.
"You seem to be taking this in your stride," the marine said eventually. "Talking about bug-eyed monsters as if they're-…"
"We all have to deal with circumstances as they come," Wilkes interrupted, the tone of her voice and her slight increase in pace indicating that she didn't want to talk about the matter. "Reflection is a luxury that we can ill afford right now." With that, it was the lieutenant's turn to lapse into silence.
"Fair enough ma'am," said Perry, deciding to take her hint. "But still try to keep an open mind, eh?"
If any of the marines had been listening, they probably would have considered Perry's comment odd at best and subdusive at worst. There was nothing wrong with keeping an open mind in the armed forces and indeed, it proved to be beneficial in many circumstances. To reinforce imagination in a situation that appeared to be heading straight for combat however, could have been seen as dangerous. Until the need for creativity arose, it was best to keep one's mind focussed and the imagination subdued.
Not that this was a problem mostly-those who were in the armed forces were hardly dreamers, but instead focussed hard arses or, as the case often was, former criminals.
Perry had always suspected that Wilkes was an exception to the general rule, her yakking on about France and whatnot this morning only reinforcing this suspicion. If she'd been a common trooper, he wouldn't have bothered. Considering that Wilkes had been an individual in charge of an entire platoon however, her lack of focus had had Perry concerned for quite awhile. Imagination may have been a strength of Wilkes back in her former, but in Alpha Squadron, Perry had seen it as nothing more than a liability.
Less than twenty-four hours ago however, the staff sergeant had realised that it was the opposite. Wilkes' mind wasn't a weakness. Rather, it was an asset.
Perry knew what had happened back in the Arathi Basin. He and his comrades had been faced by a swarm of bugs unlike anything seen before and somewhat understandably, had frozen up. They were marines, trained to deal with targets that were not only known to them, but were essentially human. Faced with targets that didn't meet any of this criteria, Wilkes had been the only one who hadn't frozen, instead giving the order to fire. An order that, as per the edicts of chain of command and neural resocialization, the platoon had been obliged to obey. An order that, Perry suspected, had ended up saving the lives of more men than what most would suspect.
Less than three hours ago, Perry had realised what had allowed Wilkes to deal with the situation. A dreamer perhaps, but one with an open mind. A person who could appreciate the wonder of extraterrestrial life and other such fantasies, who wasn't trapped in a world of rules and givens. She had the ability to deal with the unknown, while many of the Alphas didn't. An ability that, while no doubt shared with Cerberus Recon Squad, stemmed purely from an individual psyche rather than whatever cold, hard and lifeless information the Confederacy possessed.
For all her faults, Wilkes was perhaps at the greatest advantage here. And for that, Perry was not only determined to fulfil his role, but ensure that quality wasn't lost. A determination that was as high as ever now, considering that not only had the company come within sight of what looked like the entrance to an installation, an entrance surrounded by some kind of dark, spongy substance and strange organic, equally spongy structures. A determination that was now mixed with bloodlust, given that a tide of…things were coming their way, even larger than what 5th platoon had faced back in the Arathi Basin.
"Echo Company, you have incoming hostiles, I repeat, incoming hostiles." Perry rolled his eyes at the sound of Fisher's voice over the TACCOM stating the obvious, repeating such an action by ordering the Marines to get into a defensive line and the four Cerberus Goliaths take up flanking positions. Wilkes however, stopped the trend.
"Sir, are you sure that's wise?" she asked. Perry raised an eyebrow. He'd never heard Wilkes disagree with a superior before, even one with only a single gap between their two pay grades.
"Something the matter lieutenant?"
"Kind of sir," answered Wilkes. "I understand that sending goliaths to the flanks would be standard in a situation like this but…She trailed off.
Perry, for one, knew that she didn't need to go on. goliaths were powerful walkers, but like any armoured vehicle, required infantry support. With their flanks protected by the canyon walls however, the goliaths would usually be placed at the flanks in this kind of situation, ensuring a wide arc of fire from both their autocannons and hellfire ground-to-air missiles. However, with the enemy not human but rather a swarm of…things, it wouldn't be a case of infantry supporting goliaths. Rather, it would be the other way round.
"Cerberus goliaths, move to the centre of the line, dispense fire to support infantry," said Fisher eventually. Whether the pilots understood the captain's reasoning was unknown to Perry, but they followed his orders by moving to the centre and for the staff sergeant, that was all that mattered.
Well, sort of. There was also the issue of a tide of critters advancing on their position.
Well, we have Wilkes' brains to help us deal with the situation, thought Perry as, like every other marine in the company, he raised his rifle and got into a firing position. Let's just hope we have the firepower also…
2330 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Fort Keldathu (current Office of the Colonial Magistrate)
People sometimes wondered why the military liked using fancy terms, such as "Directive 9" or "Lambda Protocol under Section Sigma." It was generally assumed that it was to maintain confidentiality and while this was partly true, there were other factors at work. The core reason was to allow as many people as possible to fall back on "plausible deniability," to not reveal that "Directive 9" was "shoving a nuke down our enemy's throat" and that the Lambda Protocol designated any civilian casualties acceptable. As for Section Sigma…best not to go there.
Of course, there were times when the brass had to keep their superiors in the loop, or at least thought it best to. Currently looking over a tac-map hologram of the battle playing out in the Lazaran Gulleys, Collins hoped that Kurze had allowed him access to the image for the former reason, but privately suspected that it was the latter, that he was under no obligation to keep the magistrate in the loop and was merely showing him the map to placate him.
How kind of him, thought Collins bitterly as he watched the yellow blips blaze away at the red blips, the latter rapidly blinking out while the yellow ones remained firm. Fisher had positioned the skullders well, each walker's arc of fire covering the entire battlefield. Or at least Collins supposed it was Fisher. He doubted that Kurze cared enough to illuminate the Captain on the finer aspects of eradicating xenomorphs.
Especially when the Blood Hawks were nothing but cannon fodder…
Under normal circumstances, Collins would have admitted that Kurze's plan was a good one; luring the xenomorphs out and thus allowing his Cerberus team a clear shot at the installation. Still, considering that Kurze had overridden his security clearance to make this entire operation viable, it was hardly what Collins would call "normal circumstances."
And all from a Lieutenant Colonel, thought Collins bitterly. Hell, if I was still in the Fleet, I woulda…
Collins trailed off, a small smile forming. Even if he was still in the Colonial Fleet, Kurze would have still outranked him. Still, if he could get someone down on Chau Sara that not only outranked Kurze but was also more respectful of the proper protocols, perhaps "normal circumstances" would resume. Xenomorphs aside of course.
Collins' smile widened as he started typing on his laptop, preparing to send a message to Antiga Prime. A break of confidentiality perhaps, but considering the Alphas were already here…
With a wide smile and the touch of the enter key, Collins sat back and waited for the chain of command to take effect…
2339 hours, November 8, 2499 (SCT)
Sara System, Chau Sara
Lazaran Gulleys, Grid G7, interior of quantradyne APOD-33 dropship Normandy
Arlo felt like they were running the gauntlet.
There were a few problems with the analogy of course, and having 'jacked in' to the dropship's power bus and viewing the surroundings via external sensors, Captain Shiff Arlo could see why. The xenomorphs down below were rushing at the Alphas akin to the tides of hell hitting heaven's shores, but the dropships above were perfectly safe. True, some of the snake like xenomorphs would occasionally fling some kind of corrosive spikes their way, but overall, the critters were focussing on the ground forces. No surprise there really. Ever since the creatures were first identified on the security camerras of the derilct cargo ship Pentallion a few months back, it had been understood that they thrived in close quarters.
Although Arlo lived for the thrill that battle brought, he could understand the need for this course of action. Cerberus Recon Squad was just that; a recon squad, designed for quick missions with succinct objectives. And with the lives of roughly half a dozen Confederate scientists and twice as many more security staff at stake in the overrun Flannum Installation, it would certainly have to be a hit and run. After that…well, that would be Alpha Squadron's problem.
"Approaching drop point," came the voice of Warrant Officer Simpson, the pilot of the dropship. Arlo and the four other Cerberus firebats of First Squad responded with their acknowledgement lights, Second Squad in the Hastings no doubt following likewise.
Nothing but a milk run really, thought Arlo as he checked his wrist mounted flamethrowers, ensuring that their capacity was registered by his HUD. Surely there's got to be something more than an army of critters between us and the-…
"Incoming!"
For half a second, Arlo wondered why Simpson would yell such a thing. Another half second later, as the dropship went into a barrel roll, Arlo understood why. Maintaining his link with the sensors, the captain could see that they had come within sight of the installation…and within range of what his HUD was identifying as "spore colonies". Aptly named, considering that according to readings, the funnel shaped…things were launching corrosive balls at the dropships. Balls that his HUD identified as seeker spores and were a corrosive variation of the decaying, purplish ground they were situated on called "creep".
Kurze's been keeping up to date…
"What the hell are we gonna do!?" exclaimed Corporal Summers from across the cabin "We're-…"
"Carrying on with this mission," Arlo whispered. "No matter what it-…"
"Mayday! Mayday!"
Arlo didn't even need to link into the sensors to see what had happened. The Hastings had been hit and given the shouts of its pilot and the curses of Second Squad, it was going down hard. So hard that when Arlo did look through the sensors, only a flaming wreck was on the Creep, the seeker spore having hit one of its engines.
Crap.
"Orders captain?" asked Simpson. "Do we abort or-…"
"No, we go in," whispered Arlo in his usual soft voice, trying to sound more in control than he felt. "Second Squad's loss is regrettable, but it only changes the equation slightly."
"Slightly!?" Summers exclaimed. "We've lost 50 percent of our force in an instant and it only changes the equation slightly!?"
"Yes," said Arlo simply, shifting his gaze all across First Squad. "Because regardless of how many soldiers we have, we still have a job to do. We have half a dozen Confederate scientists to rescue and either we exit the Flannum Installation with them or not at all."
The dropship started slowing down, Arlo realising that it had run the gauntlet of the Spore Colonies and was preparing to touch down.
"What about the xenomorphs though?" asked PFC Keyes, Summers seemingly tongue tied. "Do we have enough firepower to take them on and get out alive?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not," shrugged Arlo. "But I, for one, intend to find out." He once again gazed around the squad. "Can the rest of you say the same?"
A few seconds passed. A few seconds that to Arlo, felt like eternity. An eternity driven by the fear that Cerberus was not the elite force it was made out to be, that he was working with men who weren't willing to live up to their force's name and head straight into the depths of Tartarus. Men who…were all giving acknowledgement lights on his HUD.
They were in.
Good, Arlo thought, as the dropship touched down. He watched the landing ramp open. Darkness awaited them. With a grin reminiscent of his pre military service days, he gave one last look at First Squad.
"Live forever apes," he said softly before bounding out.
With a roar, First Squad followed.
A/N
This will be the last chapter for awhile, as I'll be spending Christmas in the land of thirty million sheep, four million of which think they're human. Yes, I'm talking about New Zealand. It's doubtful that I'd have connection to the internet there and even if I did, the time I'd be able to spend writing would be minimal. Granted, at this point in time, chapter 7 is fully written and ch. 8 is nearly finished also, but I'd rather post them from my home computer.
Ironically, for this short hiatus, I'm at the same point in the fic where I decided to reboot it. Not that it's seemingly made the fic much better, the lack of feedback indictive. Frustrating, but if there's a lack of feedback, it's presumably a fault on my part. Not that I have an idea what the major fault is and therefore can't correct it with any ease, but no use whining. I intend to tell the story from start to finish, even if it is something of drastically low quality.
Anyway, that's all for now. Merry Christmas.