AN: Today we have the ever wonderful BrambleStar14 with chapter 69 (I know, everyone wants to make the joke, so let's get it out of our system). Nick's away this evening, so, for once, you're getting a few hasty words from the lesser known admin.

Things are about to get really exciting from here on out, (not that it hasn't been awesome enough already) and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did.


Chapter Sixty-Nine – Close Encounters

Agent California

Written by BrambleStar14


"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn." - Harriet Beecher Stowe


Alarms blared out overhead, filling the large room before California with endless, incessant wailing, rather like one of those old nuclear warning sirens. Cal pondered on these old Earth references for a moment, before shaking himself out of his reverie. He had more important things to be focusing on right now. He slowly looked around at what the group were doing at the present time. It was a flurry of frenzied activity.

Florida was positioning a group of heavy crates at the entrance to the chamber they were currently occupying in an attempt to create a solid barricade. This group of obstacles was blocking the only working door into the room, but it was a rather large door. Massa was hurrying backwards and forwards, setting up a small station against the wall behind the barricade to look after anyone wounded and to ensure that their wounds would be well treated. Cal saw the medic, Killian, helping her out as he ran backwards and forwards, emptying one of the crates, which contained biofoam.

Cal ran over to where York was conferring with a sergeant of the basic Freelancer Marines, dressed in silver which an ODST helmet in place, silver visor gleaming. As Cal arrived, the Marine nodded at one of York's orders, before turning and helping Florida position a machine gun on top of the barricade. York turned as Cal approached.

"So, got a plan, or is it the usual? You know, fight and die?" Cal joked, a grin on his face as York sighed, before smiling slightly.

"We fight. You never know, we might win!" There was York's optimistic side. Then, he was all business, the team leader again. "Cal, Florida needs help with the barricade. I want you to set up traps along the corridor after you're done helping him. We need all the advantages we can get here!"

Cal grinned, before leading York over to a crate that clearly had marks that belonged to Georgia's crowbar. York raised an eyebrow, which vanished immediately as Cal lifted a leg and kicked the crate over, knocking the lid off and spilling what looked like a mixture of explosives and un-deployed Auto-turrets.

"I think I've got advantages handled, what about you?" Cal snarked, before lifting a pair of auto-turrets and climbing over the barricade. Florida gave him a thumbs up as he passed. Trust Florida to be so chirpy in a combat zone. Cal ran up the long corridor and placed the auto-turrets into the alcoves that occasionally sank into the walls of the long corridor leading up to the large entrance doors. As he placed them into the walls, he pressed a small switch on the side. Instantly, the turrets unfolded and deployed, aiming into the corridor. Cal ran back, satisfied.

"It's done," he told York, who looked grimly satisfied.

"We're almost ready," he muttered but before he could expand, he was interrupted. It was small at first, a small tremor that could have been mistaken for a backfiring of the ship's engines. But then, the trembling grew larger and larger, until a screeching sound heralded a large shudder that rolled through the whole frigate. Then, the shuddering stopped.

The lights went out.

Seconds later, the emergency lighting kicked in, bathing the room in blood-like red. The intercom crackled, before the Director's voice echoed around the room, with static interrupting every so often.

"Attention, the ship has been boarded, prepare for combat. I repeat, prepare for combat. Freelancers, stop these invaders. At all costs." The intercom crackled sadly once more, before fading.

The room was silent, frozen, almost for a whole second. This second seemed to roll on forever. Cal glanced around the room, almost in slow motion. The Marines were standing, frozen as they stared at the walls, at the roof, at the intercom and at each other, crates still in their hands.

Killian turned to stare at the barricade slowly, gulping as he turned his gaze to stare at the small pistol clutched like a lifeline in his trembling hands.

Massa turned to York, wide-eyed, before turning back to her station with renewed vigour, hands moving determinately, as though every move could decide the battle. Cal supposed that it would, if they became injured.

Florida was standing atop the barricade, staring towards the door, an unnaturally grim look on his face as he grasped his rifle more firmly.

York stared at the intercom, head held high and helmet held loosely by his side. He seemed frozen, before he looked away and moved towards the barricade.

The second was broken and activity continued. The Marines ran backwards and forwards, placing the crates in their various positions even faster than before. Cal observed the end result of the hastily constructed barricade.

They were defending the ship's core. Now normally, the large circular room they were standing in was accessed by three separate doors placed at one third exactly around the room. However, thanks to York's ingenuity and F.I.L.S.S.'s abilities, two of those doors were locked down, meaning that the group could focus on the one remaining entrance. Behind Cal, opposite the doors, was a large window that spanned the back curved wall of the room. This was the observation window, for non-restricted personnel to observe the core. Except that the core wasn't visible. Instead, a massive circular chamber was visible. The three doors that led into the room entered onto catwalks that ended up outside of a thick, metal dome that encompassed that core chamber. These catwalks allowed access through thick, glass doors that would seal automatically in case of a radiation leak. Cal would hate to be in there when lockdown occurred. The interior was basically a secondary control room, with the core and the array of control panels.

It was this core that the group was defending. The catwalks were sealed off, meaning that the aliens flooding the ship would have a hard time accessing it. The barricade blocking the long corridor leading to the door was comprised of crates and metallic grates standing up, through which weapons could be aimed and fired. On top of the barricade was where the Freelancers would stand, a machine gun turret in place, ready for action. On a large screen on the wall of the corridor, an absurd reminder of daily, safe life was the leaderboard.

Cal shook his head slightly when he saw his name at the bottom. He didn't care really. It didn't matter to him like it did to the others. It was his choice to go after Harper. He shook himself out of his thoughts and stepped up on top of the barricade, alongside Florida, who had placed his helmet on.

"You ready?" Cal asked, as Florida readied his weapon. Florida nodded happily.

"We'll take these whippersnappers out yet Cal, mark my words. This will end up just dandy!" Apparently, the grimace was only part of what Florida was feeling, as he could still make these enthusiastic remarks with the same amount of vigour as when he unexpectedly found out someone had cleaned his weapon for him that one time.

York stepped up and grabbed the machine gun, aiming it straight at the door.

"Alright people, this is it!" he yelled and everyone tensed.

Time trickled by. No aliens appeared.

The marines sweated inside their helmets, weapons aimed at the door.

Time snailed by.

York gritted his teeth in preparation and frustration.

Time inched by.

Cal imagined what would happen if someone died in this. If York or Mich or even him died. He shuddered slightly. He slowly raised his SMG's and flicked the small switch on the side to Auto-Fire. No need to hold back on this one.

Then, thuds were heard ahead. Footfalls approaching the door. They got closer and closer and closer. They were approaching rapidly.

This could be it. This could be his, or someone else's death.

The footfalls reached the door.

Nothing happened.

Cal frowned and opened his mouth to ask for orders.

The doors exploded and aliens spilled out into the hall.

These were not what Cal was expecting. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A variety of different species maybe? But there was just two species here. There were loads of little, dog-like creatures wearing masks and yapping ferociously, sprinting forwards with vigour. And there was something else at the back; Cal couldn't quite make it out. It was large and it moved slowly, predatorily.

The group opened fire at the exact same time that the automatic turrets did.

The bullets ripped straight through the oncoming foot soldiers. Armour crumpled and shrapnel flew through the air, opening wounds. Skin was ripped and blood was blown out of the aliens from several directions, bright blue and luminous in the dim red light from the emergency power. The aliens fell in pools of their own vastly growing blood and died, gasping for air or dead instantly, but more continued on, clambering over their fallen comrades to wade into the next wave of bullets that would smash them off of their feet.

Cal continued to fire, using both of his sub-machine guns to spread a great wave of bullets around. York was firing the machine gun down the corridor, mowing down the tiny creatures as they continued to advance like a great wave that would swallow them if it reached them. Massa was shooting down the corridor, assault rifle firing repeated but short bursts in an attempt to conserve their rather limited supplies.

"Hold on fella's, this ought to teach them a well earned lesson!" yelled Florida from Cal's left side and he turned, almost in slow motion, to watch as Florida hefted his assault rifle, aiming slightly upwards to as to reveal the under barrelled grenade launcher. Cal could just see a familiar shape inside of it.

"Is that-" he began nervously, edging away slightly, though still continuing to shoot ahead.

"Yep!" Florida grinned, aiming carefully into the throng of claws and guns.

"But aren't they the ones you-" Cal continued carefully, half trying to reason with Florida and half admiring him for daring to use these types of grenades.

"Yep!" Florida repeated, before firing the launcher, sending the Type-3 Incendiary Grenade into the seething mass of aliens.

Instantly, flames spread out, coating the creatures of hot, fiery destruction. They screamed and flailed, setting more of them alight as they ran around as a group, yelling and making horrible sounds as their skin burned and their blood boiled beneath what remained of their skin. Those that were lucky were killed by bullets. Those that survived got to roll around until they finally succumbed to the flames. Death was a relief.

Cal sure knew how painful and scarring flames could be.

And then it all started to go wrong.

The oncoming forces were endless, it seemed. Green bursts of what could only be described as plasma streaked from their weapons and flew at the barricade, causing them and the Marines to yell and duck down behind cover. Cal saw Massa hiss as one particular burst scorch her arm as it sailed by, but she was up and shooting again in less than a second.

The Auto-Turrets had run out of ammo or overheated and slowly powered down. The aliens, realising that there was no longer death raining down from all directions, cheered and pushed forwards again, screaming with all of their might.

York cried out as another burst of plasma, purple this time, hit his turret and sizzled straight through the barrel, dissolving the metal and melting it before it cooled and re-solidified, in a shape that had no hole for bullets. York kicked the useless weapon to the side and straightened up, before cocking his shotgun and turning back to the oncoming mass of extra-terrestrials.

"Well," he said easily, "this is where it gets really tough."

And he jumped off of the barricade and into the aliens.

Cal holstered his weapons and drew his pair of machetes, before leaping down and joining him.

It was utter chaos.

From above, the battle had looked almost coordinated, and easy to see. But down below, inside the mass of snarling teeth and slashing claws and weapons, it was hard to see what was happening. The aliens came up to about Cal's midriff, giving him an advantage, but there were many of them. Cal whirled around, blades slicing through strange masks and severing limbs. The aliens screamed as they struggled to focus their weapons on him, but either their arms or part of their weapons were cut away almost instantly.

He lunged forwards and stabbed another one into the large, protruding tank on its back. In seconds, there was a large hissing as gas rushed into the air and the alien's yells became panic stricken. Cal withdrew his blade instantly and the resulting spark ignited the gas.

Cal found himself tumbling backwards through the air as the space the creature was standing in was completely immoliated. He winced at the sudden impact with the wall behind him, but stood up slowly. He surveyed his surroundings.

The flames had caught and spread, with fire everywhere, on the aliens, on the walls and reflected in the visors of his fellow Freelancers, who had all jumped into the fray by now.

The Marines seemed to have slowed their rate of fire to accommodate for friendlies entering their lines of sight, but four Freelancers easily beat several Marines in terms of usefulness. There were very few of the small aliens left now. One of them ran at Cal, but it was gunned down by the combined efforts of York, Massa, Florida and Cal himself.

The corridor was clear.

"Good job, fella's!" Florida chirped out and Massa nodded, smiling. York opened his mouth to give out some new orders before a shot rang out and he gasped. A purple streak had passed straight through his left shoulder and into the wall. York collapsed instantly as the rest of the team whirled around and opened fire on the Jackal like creatures at the end of the hall. There were few of them, but they were nasty with those rifles of theirs. Pretty soon, their endless barrage of bullets was joined by a groaning York and the Jackal things were finished easily.

"So... Wave Three anyone?" Cal asked, grinning widely.

And then the air was full of bugs. A swarm of them, pouring from the vents as they flew into the area and buzzed around the group, raining plasma down on them. The Marines were screaming from behind them, but none of the Freelancers could even see past the bugs, let alone get through them to help.

York's shotgun was useful and Massa kept up a continuous spray of bullets, loading a new clip into the rifle even before the discarded one had touched the floor. Florida's incendiary grenades were especially useful and Cal distinctly heard him humming as he casually swatted their attackers. Cal himself was slashing and carving as many of the buggers as he could, but the group was being completely swarmed with no cover. York scowled, before opening his mouth to say something, be it emotional farewells (which Cal doubted, as Carolina wasn't in the room) or one last order.

And then, the air around them exploded as the bugs were slaughtered by various weapon fire that didn't come from them. The group whipped around to see South, Mich, Georgia and Ark burst into the area, their combined assault completely wiping out most of the attackers. Cal joined in on the attack with a laugh as Mich walked casually over, still shooting.

"What took you so long?!" Cal yelled as he ducked a vicious swipe from one of the remaining bugs.

"Well, you know," Mich replied, grinning. "Traffic and all that!"

"Sarcasm," Cal raised an eyebrow. "I really am rubbing off on you!"

Mich swung a punch at a low flying bug, which somehow missed and hit Cal on the arm instead. Laughing, Cal saw South run over to help Florida, wearing what was unmistakably a bandolier of grenades. His question of "Weren't bandoliers for old people?" was met with a savage, "Shove it gramps!"

Ark had met up with York and was conversing as the other six finished off the bugs. Around six Marines were still standing by this point.

"Alright," York was saying. "Motions sensors are only picking up a few enemies here, so you might want to head over to someone else now." Ark nodded and turned to leave.

A stomping noise came from right outside the door.

Everyone froze as a massive, spiked behemoth entered, one arm taken up by a huge shield and the other sporting a cannon.

"Ah, Ark?" York asked carefully and quietly, as though not to provoke the monster. "About that help?"

The creature raised its cannon with a grunting noise and a ball of green, deadly energy gathered at the end.

"Oh shit!" Cal yelled, diving to the side as the cannon discharged a massive beam of energy where the group had been standing. A deafening explosion filled the air as the group got back up and the creature, snarling at their survival, charged its beam thing again. As the group moved to dodge, the beam impacted the barricade, blowing a massive hole in it. The Marines yelled and moved to cover the hole with crates and anything else available to them.

Cal sprinted forwards machetes catching the light. As he rounded the creature, he swung at its armour, but his blade was deflected. Seconds later, the thing whirled around, aiming at him until Ark's gunfire distracted it. Ark rounded the creature as well, catching up to Cal as the rest of the group engaged the second spiked alien that entered the room shortly after the first.

"See anything useful?" Ark asked as they dodged another swing from the snarling creature.

"Not really. The thing has a few gaps around the neck, leg and back, but nowhere that we can get to on our own." Ark nodded absently, knocking the cannon aside so that the beam intended for them instead connected with the wall.

"Well, we'll need to work together. Not ideal, but given the choices..." Ark trailed off as Cal smirked. Slowly, he offered Ark one of his blades, remembering the last time that he'd faced him holding one. Ark took the blade slowly, before sprinting around to the other side of the creature and slashing at one of its knee joints. The thing snarled and whirled around, attempting to hit Ark, but he ducked, allowing Cal to open up a cut along the thing's back, generating a howl. Ark took the opportunity to cut its kneecaps and the thing stumbled, before firing at Ark, who barely dodged in time, but was impacted by its shield, sending him into a wall.

He managed to regain his senses enough to jump aside before he was vaporised by plasma, but barely. The creature turned to Cal and stabbed forwards with the spiked shield. Cal jumped atop the shield and ran forwards, stabbing the thing in the neck. With a howl, it tried to shake him off, beam cannon discharging and almost taking off Ark and Cal's heads. Before Cal was completely destroyed, Ark stabbed the other machete into the back of the thing's neck, causing it to stiffen. Cal ripped his blade upwards, removing the thing's helmet, before throwing said blade to Ark, who caught it and in one deft movement, took the monstrosity's head right off.

Handing Cal's blades back to him, Ark turned to see the others finishing off the other one of the pair with a cleverly planted grenade. Or three. Placed in different location. Massa emptied a clip into its neck. Just for good measure.

As the group surveyed the countless bodies they had amassed around them, any ill feelings between them all seemed to ease slightly. They had just gone through a huge battle together though. Cal was left wondering though, as he looked back on the memory of the battle. There was something there, at the beginning of the fight. Something moving gracefully and predatorily. Something that hadn't been killed.

And then, as Cal reached that conclusion, the air shimmered around the group, revealing several tall, armoured creatures wielding what were unmistakably swords that shimmered as plasma ran along the course of their blades, seeming to rend the very air through which they passed apart.

Without pre-amble, the group opened fire. Their bullets were stopped short of their goal by what seemed to be a shimmering blue shield around the aliens, saving their lives and endangering the Freelancer's own. The creatures snarled and dived forwards, just as another wave of aliens poured through the door. Cal found himself deflecting the energy blade of one alien with his own twin machetes. It was hard work, these aliens clearly knew their swordplay and Cal's energy levels were being drained. Eventually, his feet were kicked out from under him and he found himself on the floor with the alien atop him. Now, Cal wasn't into aliens. Much. So this position didn't appeal to him. Much.

He raised his SMG and placed it against the creature's chest, seeing if it would be reflected backwards. It wasn't. He pulled the trigger and the bullets punctured the alien's chest, before exiting its body. And ricocheting off its shield back into it. The thing jerked and collapsed to the side. Cal picked up its deactivated sword and clipped it to his belt. Just for research. The small aliens had arrived and plasma filled the air around them. This time, they had brought grenades. Plasma grenades. Of course it was plasma, Cal noted dully as he flew through the air again! Why would it be anything else?

Suddenly, Mich stumbled backwards in front of him, obviously having taken a blow. Cal saw something flying her way and without thinking, threw himself at her, taking them both down as a long, purple needle impacted against the wall next to their heads. Before she could respond, he was bowled over, his machetes leaving his hands and his helmet going flying off his head as another of the large, skilled aliens kneeled on top of him, sword aimed towards his stomach. Cal's hands grabbed its own hands, halting the motions of the blade and preventing it from entering him. Mich was occupied with her own alien and didn't see his predicament.

Cal was stuck there for what could have been a second or an hour, staring into the eyes of the alien. It roared at him, jaws splitting open and spittle spraying across his face.

"Jesus! Someone introduce this guy to a toothbrush. Or a dentist!" Cal yelled, still struggling to prevent his own impalement. Split-jaw was clearly winning as the blade inched closer and closer to Cal. Then, he saw another Split-jaw sneaking up on Ark, who was engaging another one with his shotgun. And now really wasn't the time for rivalries. He saw his SMG lying a few inches away and gritted his teeth, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

He let go of the sword with one hand and grabbed the SMG, raising it and firing several shots into the creature behind Ark's head, killing it, just as the sword entered his stomach.

His screams, mingled with the Split-jaw falling against Ark, caused him to whirl around. Cal saw him mouth the words, oh shit!before he was beside Cal, shooting the creature stabbing him in the head and dragging him backwards, towards the barricade. Somewhere along the line, Cal saw Florida go flying as one of the purple needles imbedded itself into his shoulder and exploded. He saw South and Georgia shooting as many as they could as they covered Florida as he attempted to get back up. He saw York firing his shotgun one handed, clutching his wounded arm at his side.

Somewhere along the line, Mich joined Ark in pulling Cal back through the barricade and ordering the Marines to cover them. He felt... strange. He was sort of... floaty. He felt above it all and watched the struggling Freelancers with a grin on his face. How weird everything felt. His body was going numb as blood spilled from him and across the floor, leaving a pair of bloody streaks where he had been dragged. The wounds on his stomach had been cauterized by the sword, but the exit wounds were open still. As they lay him against a wall, he regained his wits.

"Still... not square!" He gasped, staring at Ark, who seemed taken aback. "You... shot mine. I shot... yours. I got stabbed. We're... not... square..." And with that but of wisdom, Cal fell under.

He heard things dimly. He heard Massa yelling, "Get... defibril- now!" He smiled faintly, wondering what was going on and why he couldn't see. Was everyone playing hide and seek? Was he wearing a blindfold? Where was he?

Then, a shock coursed through his body, flooding his nerves with energy as his eyes snapped open and he shot forwards, gasping as Massa and Mich came into focus, with Ark shooting outwards through the barricade.

"Cal!" Mich yelled, before leaning forwards and hugging him. Cal was stunned and didn't move until Mich was promptly pushed away by a professional Massa, who was receiving a can of biofoam from Killian, who retreated hastily. As she pumped him full of the stuff, sealing his wounds, Cal became aware that his hair, which was usually spiked, was soaked through with his own blood and was plastered across his face.

"York!" Ark yelled, "We've got to go. We've just got an idea, but we need to meet up with North's team first! Might give us a chance to even out these odds a little bit! Do you think you guys can hold them off?"

"Go." It was all that needed to be said. Ark drew himself up and steadily retreated, calling for the Patrol Team to come with him. Mich, who hadn't left Cal's side, hesitated, before leaning forwards and pushed the damp hair out of Cal's eyes.

"Stay safe," she muttered, before standing up and leaving. Cal stared after her for a while, faintly wondering why his head was spinning slightly, before snapping himself out of it and standing up groaning. Those swords really did a lot of damage. He stumbled forwards until he reached York, where he tapped him on the shoulder.

"York, we need to move! Now!" York hesitated, before looking around at the lost situation. Another wave of aliens was pouring in and the vents disgorged another load of bugs. At the back, Cal saw more Spiked Things entering and several Split-Jaws were still in the mix. York shook his head slightly, before activating his radio.

"F.I.L.L.S.! Shut down all blasts doors around the core! Now!"

Without hesitating, the corridor as suddenly segmented by multiple blast doors sealing themselves. Any aliens in the corridor had just been completely carved up.

The team regrouped on the other side of the barricade. There were the Freelancers and four Marines remaining, including their leader.

"Burns, I want you and your men to take any remaining ammunition through the side duct and into the medical bay. Take it all, anything that can help us. Anything!"

Burns nodded, before turning to his men. "On it! Ramsey, get the ammo! Heyman, scavenge any weapons that you can! I want them all! Hullum, help the injured one to the bay." The Marines nodded and went about their tasks, Hullum draping Cal's arm over his shoulders and walking to the door. Slowly, the eight man group made their way to the medical bay.

York sighed heavily as he sat down on one of the beds. "I had to redirect them." He said at their inquisitive looks. "They're probably on their way here right now. There's no other ways out. This is where we make our last stand."

Cal looked around. Florida was nursing his shoulder, but still managing to put on a cheerful expression. Massa was conversing with Killian about the remaining medical supplies. York himself was sporting a worried look as he tested his injured shoulder. Burns was observing his remaining men with sadness and regret. Hullum was pacing backwards and forwards, his hands clutching his rifle, while Heyman was just sat there, staring at the wall.

The tension in the air was tangible. As was the despair. They had tried so hard to win, or to kill the aliens. But in the end, the onslaught was inevitable.

Damn it, Cal thought as he clenched his fists. We just. Can't. Beat. Them!