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Freelancer Fanfic: Ragnarok (Attempting to come out of retir
Read, add and comment on excellent written stories by fans, set within the Freelancer universe
Mon Dec 05, 2005 4:59 pm
At last! I got the motivation to write the next part. Enjoy (And I will try to update a little more often)
Chapter 23
Planet Manhattan, New York system
The Invader soldiers eagerly charged out, only to slow and halt as if they had run into a field of waist-deep mud. A few were even frightened by what they saw and tried to get back on the dropship, only to have their attempts foiled by the mass of Invaders behind them. What a terrible light this planet was bathed in! Sensitive Invader eyes burned, and many soldiers stumbled, blinded by the hellish illumination. Tension in the ranks quickly mounted, and the Invaders began to argue over what to do. But it wasn’t until someone threw a punch that things became brutal. The platoon quickly erupted into violence and began to fight amongst themselves.
The battle commander was the one who made it out the furthest. Squinting in the light, the Invader found the outlines of two small bipeds. He quickly leveled his two antimatter pistols, dumped a charge into their barrels, and released the triggers. Each gun discharged with a sharp metallic CRACK, and two lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground, wisps of smoke rising from the ragged holes in their chests.
The battle commander quickly turned back towards his troops, becoming furious as he saw what they were doing. “You stupid sh*ts!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Quit fighting! Establish the perimeter and mount the weapons on the dropship! NOW!!”
The troops were just bringing the situation back under control as Rames-Une-Teral stepped off the dropship and rose from a low crouch to a high crouch, his height providing a good vantage point over the scene. His eyes burned as they were hit by intense sunlight, but he ignored it. The soldier growled, sweeping the barrel of his weapon over the heads of the other Invaders, searching for targets. But the light was seemingly protective of the human planet. Almost everything was obscured in illumination. But a few seconds later his eyes began to adjust, and he could make out vague shapes and colors. Unfortunately, there were no targets – none that could be distinguished as such, to his knowledge. Rames had never seen a human. What did they look like? Did they have hair, claws or teeth? Without this information, he would have to fall back on the basic uncertainty principle: shoot anything that moves.
After the platoon pulled itself back together, things progressed quickly. In less than two minutes the dropship had been armed and launched, and a perimeter had been established without a hitch. The fight, as quick as it had been, had resulted in two deaths and several injuries – not something for the commander to be very happy about. But now that the LZ had been secured, the dropship launched, and everyone armed and alert with weapons raised, the battle commander would have to punish his troops later. Right now he was contempt with familiarizing his soldiers with what a human might look like.
Holstering his weapons, the commander strode over to the corpses of the beings he had killed and promptly picked one up, analyzing its features; a light, small body, thin limbs, with five fingers on both if its tiny hands. The only hair it had was on the top of its small, somewhat spherical head. The head had a small mouth, a bump for a nose, and – the commander looked closer – eyes with ROUND pupils. Through the hole in the chest, you could see that the body’s insides were red… how strange. The commander could only guess if it was human, though. But his gut told him it was, and he trusted that.
The battle commander turned to face his platoon. “Soldiers!” he shouted, gaining their attention. “I know that none of you have ever seen a human.” He stretched out his left arm, the body dangling by the head from his fingered gauntlet. “THIS is a human. You would have seen me kill this thing, had you all not been fighting like a bunch of confused vermin!” He approached the nearest soldier and thrust the body into his hands. “Pass it around and learn its shape! I want you fools to know what to shoot at!”
The commander’s orders were wordlessly obeyed, and body was passed down the ranks. It finally reached Rames-Une-Teral, who lowered his weapon and wrapped his massive clawed fingers around the limp thing’s torso, holding it up to his face.
“Ugly little thing,” Rames commented before passing the body down the line. The Invader brought his cannon to bear again. He scanned the area again: still no targets. There had been no targets whatsoever since the dropship had landed. What was going on? If this was a human held world, then where in the world were the humans? Maybe all the noise the soldiers had been making had spooked the humans and scared them away.
After the human corpse had been seen by all the soldiers and unceremoniously tossed aside, the next thing to do was send out the infantry and broaden the Invader-controlled territory.
“Soldiers!” Rames heard his commander shout. “Assassin patrols! It’s time to bunch up and head out!”
*****
“Battleship Michigan, this is LNS Omaha. We will be at your position in a few minutes.”
Officer Jennifer Smith, who manned the communications panel, keyed a response. “Acknowledged, Omaha. Advise that you come at best speed, but keep your distance. This thing has a massive weapons range. Out.” She terminated the transmission and relayed the information to her captain.
Upon hearing the news that support was en route, Grayson let out a sigh of relief. It was about time that some reinforcements arrived.
The captain returned her gaze to the battlefield and eyed the damage. In 30-odd minutes that had passed since the battle had started, the giant red ship had reduced Trenton Outpost into molten slag. Thankfully reports indicated that the base had been successfully evacuated. Newark Station had just finished doing the same. The red ship continued to bombard its alien energy into the side of the base, which had almost totally melted away. As Newark’s structural integrity continued to dwindle, the whole base had started to warp out of shape as it succumbed to what remained of its artificial gravity field.
The Michigan had also taken several hits. The prow of the ship had taken a hit on the port side, and another near the engine, both having boiled away large chunks of protective multi-layer armor. Luckily, no major components had been hit, and the Michigan still had a strong pulse. However, the battleship had the short end of the stick in this battle, and so the captain had opted to stay back, destroying any enemy fighters that came too close.
Despite being nowhere near the thick of the battle, the Michigan and her crew were hard at work. The ships central computer was busy using a series of long range scans to build a detailed model of the massive red ship. At the same time, Captain Grayson was focused on a hologram of the scene, centered around her primary target, her brilliant eyes studying the ship and its attacks.
The goal behind all of this was to find a weakness in the ship, one that could turn this battle in her favor. Finding such a thing was crucial - there was practically no other way she would be able to win.
The computer pinged, notifying the captain of an update. It had finished mapping the massive ship, automatically bringing up a large 3d hologram of the object.
Captain Grayson eyed the model. It was a white wireframe representation of the ship, with small blue components that included weapon turrets, as well as detectable joints and seams in the armor. A few seconds later, the computer finished further calculations and pinged again as a thin red field settled around the holographic object to indicate the ships defense coverage.
That’s when she saw it: the ship had significant blind spot in its weapons system, located directly over the massive ship. The blind spot was HUGE – it was large enough to accommodate the Michigan with plenty of room to spare. Even better, the craft’s massive fins soared up to either side of it, providing a large amount of cover. If the captain could somehow maneuver the Michigan into that area… the liberty battleship could dig in and become a major pain in the ass.
But how would she get there?
*****
“Hamilton base, this is the wing leader of police squadron Beta 3. I have another potential bogey coming from my high seven, heading for the suburbs. Permission to take it out, over.”
Officer James Sewall waited for a response as he watched a needle-like pillar of fire overhead grow larger with each passing second at it tore through the atmosphere at supersonic speeds. He adjusted his speed so it would fall in front of him, and the rest of his wing followed suit.
Dozens of these things had been falling from space over the past half hour. No one was really sure where they were coming from: they literally appeared just above the planet and descended into the atmosphere.
The ships had been falling long enough for headquarters to find that they all followed a similar pattern. Once one neared the end of its atmospheric descent, it would slow to a subsonic speed. Scans showed that during this time, the ships were unarmed. But once it got to the ground, it become armed, providing air support for the dozens of ground troops it deployed, all armed with advanced weaponry. Ground based officers reported that these troops were big, mean, fast… and presumed to be alien. It was an absurd idea; considering recent events, an Outcast attack was a more probable explanation. Sewall recalled how he had reacted with disbelief when he first heard the rumor, right before he had launched.
FLASHBACK
Sewall was listening to the base’s radio system as a field reporter made a report, having hidden himself as the enemy troops approached his position.
“…can’t quite tell what they are yet,” came his voice through the speaker. “But they’re big – at least seven feet. Some seem to be wearing armor. Hang on… looks like the armor is ballistic. Interesting…” The reporter sighed. “It’s hard to say this, people,” he said, “but this reporter thinks that these things are aliens.”
“Aliens?” Sewall whispered, rolling his eyes. “Wort, wort, wort.”
One of Sewall’s wing mates, who had been standing next to him when he had uttered the phrase, looked at him in surprise. “Where did you pick THAT up??”
The wing leader shrugged.
END FLASHBACK
But now, after seeing what was happening, Sewall was becoming more and more aware that the ships, as well as the beings they carried, might actually be of alien origin.
A woman’s voice came over the comm. “Acknowledged, Beta 3,” she said. “Permission is granted. Send it to hell before it hits the ground, over.”
Officer Sewall turned to his comm. “Thanks, Hamilton,” he replied. “Out.” The officer looked back up at the ship. It was much closer now; close enough that the man could see the craft itself. As he watched, its wispy contrail ended as the ship dropped to a subsonic speed, followed by the birth of a thick black contrail as the thing ignited its engines.
Sewall hit the team comm. channel. “Okay gents, let show this bastard our way of having a good time! Ready your weapons!”
Sewall’s calculations were correct, and the craft fell directly in front of him, filling his cockpit with the shuddering boom of its engines. “Open fire!” he shouted. The Invader dropship was acquainted with the business ends of four armed Patriots as lasers and gouts of plasma cut a wide swath through the air and bombarded the red chrome ship. The dropship bucked and tilted at an odd angle, as if it was trying to veer away from the incoming fire. Someone launched a missile, and Sewall watched as it roared up to the ship and scored a hit just above the left engine. The missile exploded, tearing through alien metal and blowing a large hole through the engine cowling and braces. Now with the gift of mobility, the engine shifted, pivoting upwards until it caught. The power plant was now almost perpendicular to the craft, and was still pumping out hundreds of pounds of exhaust. The dropship, which was wider than it was long, was sent into rapid end-over-end flips, the intense gyrations shearing off one of the wings as the craft fell like a fiery stone, rupturing a fuel tank and releasing a massive cloud of antimatter into the air. The doomed ship then smashed into an open field, sending earth, wreckage and alien bodies for hundreds of feet in every direction.
“Yeah!” Officer Sewall shouted, pumping his fist in triumph.
“Hang on, boss,” one of Sewalls’ wing mates said. “We have another bogey inbound from your ten-thirty. Scanning… looks like this one is armed.”
Sewall looked to his left and saw the approaching flying wing, the craft itself a narrow band in the sky as it came at him edge on. A large circle of black exhaust was visible behind it. The pilot keyed the comm. “Roger that, I see it. Looks like we have a dogfight on our hands. Engage!”
Officer Sewall steeled himself for the upcoming fight. He had heard the report about the fighting capabilities of these things. It had five turrets – two up front, two back, and one on top. Each gun was rapid fire, and could spit out an estimated three bursts of highly volatile energy per second. The alien ships were fast and could easily outrun a patriot, but Sewall had also heard that their turns in flight were stiff and sluggish.
The Invader dropship closed in, firing its two forward turrets as it came within range, cleaving the air with dozens of destructive orbs as large as a man’s fist. The shots from one of the turrets was aimed at officer Sewall, and he pulled up, the glowing antimatter heads passing harmlessly beneath him before billowing out and ceasing to exist.
The dropship veered to the left, passing behind the police squadron and exposing them to its rear turrets. Both swiveled to a target and opened fire. The turrets were not very accurate, but one managed to land a shot on one of Sewall’s wing mates, a woman named Joanne, just in front of the right wing. The concentrated antimatter exploded, searing through the Patriot’s light armor and into the ship’s delicate inner workings.
“I’ve been hit!” Joanne shouted through the comm. “My reactor’s been damaged! Losing power…” The woman’s ship wobbled in the air, but the pilot managed to bring it back under his control. “I won’t be able to stick around much longer.”
Sewall tracked the enemy ship and was pleased to find that it was pulling a wide U-turn – perhaps the report had been right. The wing leader took the time to contact Marcus. “Hang in there, Joanne,” he said. “Keep your head cool. We’ll take this thing out.”
The Invader ship finished its turn, heading straight toward the four Patriots, guns blazing. The human ships scattered, returning fire. Sewall took a hit to the top of his ship, and the wind whistled through the hole and filled the ship with its noise. Missiles were launched at the dropship as it passed, streaking towards their target, only to be left behind as the dropship streaked away. Eventually the missiles exhausted their fuel and transformed into puffs of smoke and fire as they automatically initiated their self-destruct sequences.
This was going to be a hard fight. The alien ship was employing hit-and-run tactics, a strategy that was proving most effective. The only counter attack that Sewall could think of was a form of strafing run as his target passed by. As the alien craft turned around again, the wing leader of squadron Beta 3 prepared for a pass by, angling his ship to the right of the incoming hostile and swiveling his guns to greet the enemy, engine roaring.
The red chrome dropship, as if sensing the man’s intentions, turned towards the human craft and onto a collision course. It opened fire, and Sewall saw nothing but red as several shots landed on his ship and destroyed the cockpit, with him inside. The headless Patriot tumbled in the air as it fell from the battle.
Hurrah! this chapter is finished! (I enjoyed writing the flashback. I admit it; I'm a big Halo fan)
Edited 1-23 for continuity
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/26/2006 12:02:03 AM
Chapter 23
Planet Manhattan, New York system
The Invader soldiers eagerly charged out, only to slow and halt as if they had run into a field of waist-deep mud. A few were even frightened by what they saw and tried to get back on the dropship, only to have their attempts foiled by the mass of Invaders behind them. What a terrible light this planet was bathed in! Sensitive Invader eyes burned, and many soldiers stumbled, blinded by the hellish illumination. Tension in the ranks quickly mounted, and the Invaders began to argue over what to do. But it wasn’t until someone threw a punch that things became brutal. The platoon quickly erupted into violence and began to fight amongst themselves.
The battle commander was the one who made it out the furthest. Squinting in the light, the Invader found the outlines of two small bipeds. He quickly leveled his two antimatter pistols, dumped a charge into their barrels, and released the triggers. Each gun discharged with a sharp metallic CRACK, and two lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground, wisps of smoke rising from the ragged holes in their chests.
The battle commander quickly turned back towards his troops, becoming furious as he saw what they were doing. “You stupid sh*ts!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Quit fighting! Establish the perimeter and mount the weapons on the dropship! NOW!!”
The troops were just bringing the situation back under control as Rames-Une-Teral stepped off the dropship and rose from a low crouch to a high crouch, his height providing a good vantage point over the scene. His eyes burned as they were hit by intense sunlight, but he ignored it. The soldier growled, sweeping the barrel of his weapon over the heads of the other Invaders, searching for targets. But the light was seemingly protective of the human planet. Almost everything was obscured in illumination. But a few seconds later his eyes began to adjust, and he could make out vague shapes and colors. Unfortunately, there were no targets – none that could be distinguished as such, to his knowledge. Rames had never seen a human. What did they look like? Did they have hair, claws or teeth? Without this information, he would have to fall back on the basic uncertainty principle: shoot anything that moves.
After the platoon pulled itself back together, things progressed quickly. In less than two minutes the dropship had been armed and launched, and a perimeter had been established without a hitch. The fight, as quick as it had been, had resulted in two deaths and several injuries – not something for the commander to be very happy about. But now that the LZ had been secured, the dropship launched, and everyone armed and alert with weapons raised, the battle commander would have to punish his troops later. Right now he was contempt with familiarizing his soldiers with what a human might look like.
Holstering his weapons, the commander strode over to the corpses of the beings he had killed and promptly picked one up, analyzing its features; a light, small body, thin limbs, with five fingers on both if its tiny hands. The only hair it had was on the top of its small, somewhat spherical head. The head had a small mouth, a bump for a nose, and – the commander looked closer – eyes with ROUND pupils. Through the hole in the chest, you could see that the body’s insides were red… how strange. The commander could only guess if it was human, though. But his gut told him it was, and he trusted that.
The battle commander turned to face his platoon. “Soldiers!” he shouted, gaining their attention. “I know that none of you have ever seen a human.” He stretched out his left arm, the body dangling by the head from his fingered gauntlet. “THIS is a human. You would have seen me kill this thing, had you all not been fighting like a bunch of confused vermin!” He approached the nearest soldier and thrust the body into his hands. “Pass it around and learn its shape! I want you fools to know what to shoot at!”
The commander’s orders were wordlessly obeyed, and body was passed down the ranks. It finally reached Rames-Une-Teral, who lowered his weapon and wrapped his massive clawed fingers around the limp thing’s torso, holding it up to his face.
“Ugly little thing,” Rames commented before passing the body down the line. The Invader brought his cannon to bear again. He scanned the area again: still no targets. There had been no targets whatsoever since the dropship had landed. What was going on? If this was a human held world, then where in the world were the humans? Maybe all the noise the soldiers had been making had spooked the humans and scared them away.
After the human corpse had been seen by all the soldiers and unceremoniously tossed aside, the next thing to do was send out the infantry and broaden the Invader-controlled territory.
“Soldiers!” Rames heard his commander shout. “Assassin patrols! It’s time to bunch up and head out!”
*****
“Battleship Michigan, this is LNS Omaha. We will be at your position in a few minutes.”
Officer Jennifer Smith, who manned the communications panel, keyed a response. “Acknowledged, Omaha. Advise that you come at best speed, but keep your distance. This thing has a massive weapons range. Out.” She terminated the transmission and relayed the information to her captain.
Upon hearing the news that support was en route, Grayson let out a sigh of relief. It was about time that some reinforcements arrived.
The captain returned her gaze to the battlefield and eyed the damage. In 30-odd minutes that had passed since the battle had started, the giant red ship had reduced Trenton Outpost into molten slag. Thankfully reports indicated that the base had been successfully evacuated. Newark Station had just finished doing the same. The red ship continued to bombard its alien energy into the side of the base, which had almost totally melted away. As Newark’s structural integrity continued to dwindle, the whole base had started to warp out of shape as it succumbed to what remained of its artificial gravity field.
The Michigan had also taken several hits. The prow of the ship had taken a hit on the port side, and another near the engine, both having boiled away large chunks of protective multi-layer armor. Luckily, no major components had been hit, and the Michigan still had a strong pulse. However, the battleship had the short end of the stick in this battle, and so the captain had opted to stay back, destroying any enemy fighters that came too close.
Despite being nowhere near the thick of the battle, the Michigan and her crew were hard at work. The ships central computer was busy using a series of long range scans to build a detailed model of the massive red ship. At the same time, Captain Grayson was focused on a hologram of the scene, centered around her primary target, her brilliant eyes studying the ship and its attacks.
The goal behind all of this was to find a weakness in the ship, one that could turn this battle in her favor. Finding such a thing was crucial - there was practically no other way she would be able to win.
The computer pinged, notifying the captain of an update. It had finished mapping the massive ship, automatically bringing up a large 3d hologram of the object.
Captain Grayson eyed the model. It was a white wireframe representation of the ship, with small blue components that included weapon turrets, as well as detectable joints and seams in the armor. A few seconds later, the computer finished further calculations and pinged again as a thin red field settled around the holographic object to indicate the ships defense coverage.
That’s when she saw it: the ship had significant blind spot in its weapons system, located directly over the massive ship. The blind spot was HUGE – it was large enough to accommodate the Michigan with plenty of room to spare. Even better, the craft’s massive fins soared up to either side of it, providing a large amount of cover. If the captain could somehow maneuver the Michigan into that area… the liberty battleship could dig in and become a major pain in the ass.
But how would she get there?
*****
“Hamilton base, this is the wing leader of police squadron Beta 3. I have another potential bogey coming from my high seven, heading for the suburbs. Permission to take it out, over.”
Officer James Sewall waited for a response as he watched a needle-like pillar of fire overhead grow larger with each passing second at it tore through the atmosphere at supersonic speeds. He adjusted his speed so it would fall in front of him, and the rest of his wing followed suit.
Dozens of these things had been falling from space over the past half hour. No one was really sure where they were coming from: they literally appeared just above the planet and descended into the atmosphere.
The ships had been falling long enough for headquarters to find that they all followed a similar pattern. Once one neared the end of its atmospheric descent, it would slow to a subsonic speed. Scans showed that during this time, the ships were unarmed. But once it got to the ground, it become armed, providing air support for the dozens of ground troops it deployed, all armed with advanced weaponry. Ground based officers reported that these troops were big, mean, fast… and presumed to be alien. It was an absurd idea; considering recent events, an Outcast attack was a more probable explanation. Sewall recalled how he had reacted with disbelief when he first heard the rumor, right before he had launched.
FLASHBACK
Sewall was listening to the base’s radio system as a field reporter made a report, having hidden himself as the enemy troops approached his position.
“…can’t quite tell what they are yet,” came his voice through the speaker. “But they’re big – at least seven feet. Some seem to be wearing armor. Hang on… looks like the armor is ballistic. Interesting…” The reporter sighed. “It’s hard to say this, people,” he said, “but this reporter thinks that these things are aliens.”
“Aliens?” Sewall whispered, rolling his eyes. “Wort, wort, wort.”
One of Sewall’s wing mates, who had been standing next to him when he had uttered the phrase, looked at him in surprise. “Where did you pick THAT up??”
The wing leader shrugged.
END FLASHBACK
But now, after seeing what was happening, Sewall was becoming more and more aware that the ships, as well as the beings they carried, might actually be of alien origin.
A woman’s voice came over the comm. “Acknowledged, Beta 3,” she said. “Permission is granted. Send it to hell before it hits the ground, over.”
Officer Sewall turned to his comm. “Thanks, Hamilton,” he replied. “Out.” The officer looked back up at the ship. It was much closer now; close enough that the man could see the craft itself. As he watched, its wispy contrail ended as the ship dropped to a subsonic speed, followed by the birth of a thick black contrail as the thing ignited its engines.
Sewall hit the team comm. channel. “Okay gents, let show this bastard our way of having a good time! Ready your weapons!”
Sewall’s calculations were correct, and the craft fell directly in front of him, filling his cockpit with the shuddering boom of its engines. “Open fire!” he shouted. The Invader dropship was acquainted with the business ends of four armed Patriots as lasers and gouts of plasma cut a wide swath through the air and bombarded the red chrome ship. The dropship bucked and tilted at an odd angle, as if it was trying to veer away from the incoming fire. Someone launched a missile, and Sewall watched as it roared up to the ship and scored a hit just above the left engine. The missile exploded, tearing through alien metal and blowing a large hole through the engine cowling and braces. Now with the gift of mobility, the engine shifted, pivoting upwards until it caught. The power plant was now almost perpendicular to the craft, and was still pumping out hundreds of pounds of exhaust. The dropship, which was wider than it was long, was sent into rapid end-over-end flips, the intense gyrations shearing off one of the wings as the craft fell like a fiery stone, rupturing a fuel tank and releasing a massive cloud of antimatter into the air. The doomed ship then smashed into an open field, sending earth, wreckage and alien bodies for hundreds of feet in every direction.
“Yeah!” Officer Sewall shouted, pumping his fist in triumph.
“Hang on, boss,” one of Sewalls’ wing mates said. “We have another bogey inbound from your ten-thirty. Scanning… looks like this one is armed.”
Sewall looked to his left and saw the approaching flying wing, the craft itself a narrow band in the sky as it came at him edge on. A large circle of black exhaust was visible behind it. The pilot keyed the comm. “Roger that, I see it. Looks like we have a dogfight on our hands. Engage!”
Officer Sewall steeled himself for the upcoming fight. He had heard the report about the fighting capabilities of these things. It had five turrets – two up front, two back, and one on top. Each gun was rapid fire, and could spit out an estimated three bursts of highly volatile energy per second. The alien ships were fast and could easily outrun a patriot, but Sewall had also heard that their turns in flight were stiff and sluggish.
The Invader dropship closed in, firing its two forward turrets as it came within range, cleaving the air with dozens of destructive orbs as large as a man’s fist. The shots from one of the turrets was aimed at officer Sewall, and he pulled up, the glowing antimatter heads passing harmlessly beneath him before billowing out and ceasing to exist.
The dropship veered to the left, passing behind the police squadron and exposing them to its rear turrets. Both swiveled to a target and opened fire. The turrets were not very accurate, but one managed to land a shot on one of Sewall’s wing mates, a woman named Joanne, just in front of the right wing. The concentrated antimatter exploded, searing through the Patriot’s light armor and into the ship’s delicate inner workings.
“I’ve been hit!” Joanne shouted through the comm. “My reactor’s been damaged! Losing power…” The woman’s ship wobbled in the air, but the pilot managed to bring it back under his control. “I won’t be able to stick around much longer.”
Sewall tracked the enemy ship and was pleased to find that it was pulling a wide U-turn – perhaps the report had been right. The wing leader took the time to contact Marcus. “Hang in there, Joanne,” he said. “Keep your head cool. We’ll take this thing out.”
The Invader ship finished its turn, heading straight toward the four Patriots, guns blazing. The human ships scattered, returning fire. Sewall took a hit to the top of his ship, and the wind whistled through the hole and filled the ship with its noise. Missiles were launched at the dropship as it passed, streaking towards their target, only to be left behind as the dropship streaked away. Eventually the missiles exhausted their fuel and transformed into puffs of smoke and fire as they automatically initiated their self-destruct sequences.
This was going to be a hard fight. The alien ship was employing hit-and-run tactics, a strategy that was proving most effective. The only counter attack that Sewall could think of was a form of strafing run as his target passed by. As the alien craft turned around again, the wing leader of squadron Beta 3 prepared for a pass by, angling his ship to the right of the incoming hostile and swiveling his guns to greet the enemy, engine roaring.
The red chrome dropship, as if sensing the man’s intentions, turned towards the human craft and onto a collision course. It opened fire, and Sewall saw nothing but red as several shots landed on his ship and destroyed the cockpit, with him inside. The headless Patriot tumbled in the air as it fell from the battle.
Hurrah! this chapter is finished! (I enjoyed writing the flashback. I admit it; I'm a big Halo fan)
Edited 1-23 for continuity
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/26/2006 12:02:03 AM
Fri Dec 23, 2005 12:34 am
Yo, Fang!
Great fic -
Here's a few notes:
I like your adversary -
Pitiless, aggressive, known only as invaders, with seemingly unstoppable technology posing a threat to Sirius' comfortable little corner of the galaxy that could mean the end.
When I read the first couple of chapters I actually got a bit uncomfortable.
You personalized the tension with the Trent/Zane engagement and dropped in a little hope by revealing a couple of adversary weaknesses and limitations such as fleet vulnerability at the bleeder ship focal point. There's also the invader bio limitations (fatigue, sensitivity to light, etc). At this point I'm wondering when Sirius will coordinate and begin to exploit what they have.
I also like the 'stealth torps' as well as your battle descriptions involving 'teleporting'. Its described well enough to make it believable yet not so brief that it sounds like, hmmmm, well, magic. A few fan fics aren't researched or thought through enough to provide some adequate rationale, science or what-have-you to get us past our gravity bound life. Writers should work hard enough to persuade us that these events in space can really happen.
On the critique side:
You need to proof-read.. There's numerous areas where is be an auxilliary verb that should've been edited out. And sometimes place where missing. It distracts from a *good* story. See if you can find someone who will proof-read/edit your final draft before you post. I'll be glad to do that for you since that's part of what I do.
One final note - you really got my attention by the way you revealed Orillion's response to dire pressure. He reverted to type as they say. I often thought of him as a melancholy type and sure enough - in the face of danger he retreated into himself instead of leaning into the problem. Good work.
Next chapter?
You always find what you're looking for.
Great fic -
Here's a few notes:
I like your adversary -
Pitiless, aggressive, known only as invaders, with seemingly unstoppable technology posing a threat to Sirius' comfortable little corner of the galaxy that could mean the end.
When I read the first couple of chapters I actually got a bit uncomfortable.
You personalized the tension with the Trent/Zane engagement and dropped in a little hope by revealing a couple of adversary weaknesses and limitations such as fleet vulnerability at the bleeder ship focal point. There's also the invader bio limitations (fatigue, sensitivity to light, etc). At this point I'm wondering when Sirius will coordinate and begin to exploit what they have.
I also like the 'stealth torps' as well as your battle descriptions involving 'teleporting'. Its described well enough to make it believable yet not so brief that it sounds like, hmmmm, well, magic. A few fan fics aren't researched or thought through enough to provide some adequate rationale, science or what-have-you to get us past our gravity bound life. Writers should work hard enough to persuade us that these events in space can really happen.
On the critique side:
You need to proof-read.. There's numerous areas where is be an auxilliary verb that should've been edited out. And sometimes place where missing. It distracts from a *good* story. See if you can find someone who will proof-read/edit your final draft before you post. I'll be glad to do that for you since that's part of what I do.
One final note - you really got my attention by the way you revealed Orillion's response to dire pressure. He reverted to type as they say. I often thought of him as a melancholy type and sure enough - in the face of danger he retreated into himself instead of leaning into the problem. Good work.
Next chapter?
You always find what you're looking for.
Mon Jan 23, 2006 8:19 am
Wow... I'm not sure if its my schedule, what I'm eating, or how I deprived myself of games, but for the first time in quite a while, I knew what I wanted to write and was able to sit down and write it.
Note: Chapter 23 was edited for continuity - a new character was introduced.
WARNING: There is a small section in this chapter that you might find offensive/disgusting, so I apoligize in advance if you find it upsetting.
Here it is: the entire 24th chapter.
Chapter 24
Unknown space, outside Sirius
Thank fortunes, she understood the message.
But what of her mother? She is obviously very determined to get her. This… compromises things. Should I help? If I do, It might catch me, as even now it watches me. And if it does, it will tell Him, and he could easily kill me. But why does He retain me so? I still do not know why he keeps me alive. And I can not find out… it would catch me, and then He would definitely kill me. But to be truthful, I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ve been here for so long…
What are you thinking? You digress! Get back on track!
Never mind the consequences. He has caught me before, and he has not killed me yet; he still needs me for something. Yes, I will empty their way. Clear the way of their kind. Not of Them, It will find out... I have to work quickly.
*****
Juni steered the skiff onto the lesser roads of the city, skyscrapers towering high above her. The first thing she noticed was that her path was devoid of people. Not only people, but shuttles and skiffs as well. Where was everybody?
Bronze and silver buildings whipped by the skiff as Juni pushed the vehicle to eighty miles per hour. She put aside her questions and focused on getting to her mother’s place.
“They’re going to kill my mother,” Juni thought. “If I don’t get there in time, they’re going to break into her house and kill her. Just like they destroyed Orillion’s forces, they’re going to kill her…”
Juni was stressed out. She was gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles had turned white. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her breathing was somewhat erratic. Trent saw this and decided that she needed to be calmed down.
“Jun’ko?” Trent started, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. Nothing’s going to happen to your mother.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Do you mind slowing down a bit? You’re making me nervous.” His attempt was ill effective, and his fiancée shrugged off his hand. Trent was forced to sit there, hoping that Juni’s driving skills were as good as her piloting skills.
As they drove past an intersection, a dark, somewhat hairy figure darted out from the cross street and in front of the skiff. It wasn’t human. Juni swerved to miss it, but she wasn’t fast enough. She hit the thing with a glancing blow, and nine hundred pounds of vehicle shuttered from the impact. The figure let out a garbled roar of pain as it was thrown off its feet, its jaw broken.
Proving to be an advantage for almost any situation, skiffs were designed to be ‘smart’ vehicles, equipped with computers that would take control of the craft if it found itself in a situation that could be hazardous to the passengers. One such situation involved loss of traction. Gravpads could not maintain good traction if its course was suddenly altered at high speeds. So as Juni swerved to miss the figure, the vehicle began to slide. The skiff’s onboard computer, sensing that the craft was in danger of crashing, locked the controls and applied the brakes in an attempt to prevent itself from hitting anything. The skiff slowed until it was at a near standstill before it gave control back to Juni, who loudly swore at the vehicle for trying to save her life.
“What the hell did we hit?!” Trent exclaimed, looking back to see what the fallen figure was. Juni did not bother to respond as she forced the skiff to accelerate, the engine whining loudly.
Trent stared in amazement as the thing they had hit actually stood up and continued to howl in agony, its mouth limply hanging open. As Trent continued to watch, the creature attempted to correct the damage and took hold of what remained of its jaw, only to discover that this put it in even more pain. It staggered on its feet, roaring louder than before. It continued to roar as it retained its grip on the shattered mandible, not quite smart enough to ease the pain by letting go. Trent couldn’t help but smirk at the thing’s stupidity.
His amusement was short lived, however, as four more of the creatures, two of whom were donned in rustic metal armor, rounded the corner, looked at their injured companion and then at the skiff. Trent swore that he could hear their throats rumble a challenge as they leveled strange weapons at the vehicle, an intense red glow quickly growing within their barrels. Almost in unison, the weapons discharged with a resounding CRACK, unleashing deadly concentrated antimatter projectiles (smaller versions of the ones made by Invader capital ships) into the air.
“Oh f***” Trent thought. He swiveled back around in his seat as red-hot orbs of destruction hissed by the skiff. He leaned towards Juni and grabbed her shoulder. “Jun’ko, we need to go faster,” he pleaded. “You hit an Invader, and now its friends are pissed. We need to move!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” she half-shouted, with much irritation in her voice. She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal, despite the fact that it was already down to the floor. The skiff continued to gain speed.
An alien roar made Trent turn his attention back to the Invaders, and he glanced behind the skiff to see the four aliens begin to pursue the vehicle, still firing their weapons. The Invaders started off in awkward steps, as if unused to running, but nevertheless they quickly gained speed. The creatures ran with incredibly long strides as their powerful legs vaulted their bodies into the air with each downward thrust. It looked like they were skipping. Trent might have found this funny if the four aliens weren’t trying to kill both himself and Juni – or the fact that the Invaders were actually catching up.
“Faster, Jun’ko…” Trent said half-mindedly. Juni retorted with what Trent was sure was an insult, but he didn’t bother to listen. His mind went numb; he couldn’t think of anything he could do.
Fortunately for him, the Invaders’ unusual running habits made it nearly impossible for them to land a shot on the skiff. Juni kept her foot down on the accelerator, and gradually the aliens began to fall behind. Trent came back to his senses and breathed a sigh of relief before turning back forward.
“That was close.” Trent looked at Juni. She was hunched over the steering wheel, her lips pursed together, breathing heavily. Dammit. Now she was even more stressed out.
“Juni, you need to calm down…” Trent started. Suddenly he was interrupted by a hoarse cry.
“Kreen mutsh tun nehrasheh!!”
Once again Trent pivoted around to see what was happening. One of the armored Invaders, dressed in a left shoulder pad and right arm guard, bellowed a war cry as it put every ounce of its being into a dead sprint. It bounded towards its target, closing in on the skiff at speeds just under fifty miles per hour. It squeezed the handle of its weapon, dumping a firing charge into the barrel. However, this time Trent held on to his senses. Wasting little time, he grabbed his blaster, opened the window and leaned out, facing backwards as his hair whipped in his face. From there he leveled his weapon at the Invader, who still trailed about fifty yards behind the skiff.
Trent pulled the trigger and watched as tendrils of energy burst forth from the weapon and pedaled themselves into the Invader, their sizzling bodies burrowing deep into the alien’s skin. For a split second the being stumbled before regaining control over its body. It slowed and opened its mouth wide as it began to grow weary from the sprinting, face flushed yellow from the effort. Trent continued to fire upon the Invader as it steadied its weapon and released the trigger. The weapon discharged.
Concentrated antimatter erupted from the curved mouth of the alien weapon, its pernicious head punching through the air as it raced towards its destination. Time seemed to slow as it ran on a slightly arced trajectory, quickly gaining on the skiff. The Invader’s aim proved to be true as the boiling projectile slammed into the rear of the vehicle. The glowing dark matter orb exploded, easily blowing a hole through the craft’s thin skin, and began to dissolve the inner workings.
“Sh*t!” Trent shouted, ducking back into the skiff. He holstered his blaster.
Juni suddenly decided to speak. “We were hit, weren’t we?” she asked tensely. Trent looked at her and nodded, despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah.”
Juni looked at the dashboard dials. After a pause, she spoke up again. “The fuel tank’s been hit.”
“What?” Trent leaned over to look at the fuel gauge. It read 73%. As he watched, it ticked down to 72%, then 71%. He groaned. As if the situation could get any worse!
“We have a few minutes of power left,” Juni stated flatly. “Then we’re on foot.”
Trent sighed. “Can we get to the ships?” he asked.
Juni briefly looked over at her fiancé before returning her gaze to the road, easing the speeding air skiff through a gradual turn in the road. “No. We’re almost out of the city.” She glanced back at the fuel gauge. “We should have enough power to get to my mother’s place. After that, we can use her skiff to get to the ship hangar.”
Trent thought about what Juni said for a second before he grunted in approval. He had to admit it: even under stress, she was a good thinker.
*****
Rames-Une-Teral tore ahead of his patrol, snarling as he charged his attackers, barreling into the heart of their formation. Clutching his antimatter mortar in his left hand, he crouched down and began to swat the enemy with his right, with devastating results. Fingers outstretched, his five inch claws buried themselves deep into alien flesh before cutting upwards through organs and bones as Rames tossed the human bodies aside like rag dolls. The humans shrieked in their twittering language while those with weapons amassed their fire on the Invader’s huge, muscular body. Rames felt each and every hit as the energy bolts tunneled into his skin and burst, sending a spider web of pain through the surrounding tissues. This only fueled his rampage. He continued his assault, quickly cutting the enemy down until there was only one left. It turned and ran, but only managed to get a few dozen feet before Rames’ titanic stride brought the human close enough to be scooped up in a massive three-fingered grasp. Without hesitating, the gargantuan Invader took only a split second to whip around and hurl the tiny creature high into the air. He did not bother to watch where the body landed.
The battle won, Rames turned and walked back to his patrol, who were in shock at the performance they had just witnessed. Rames laughed inwardly. He had always enjoyed the reactions he got when he was in battle.
Keeping a serious face inside his helmet, the victorious Invader spoke to his patrol. “What are you soldiers looking at?” he demanded. “Keep an eye out for the enemy!” Upon that command, the rest of the patrol came to their senses and began to shuffle about, readying their pistols and mortars, eyes glancing into corners and shadows.
Rames-Une-Teral rejoined the assassin patrol and checked his wounds. Then, satisfied that they were only minor injuries, he brought his right hand back up to his mortar cannon, only to realize that it was covered in human blood and bits of red meat. Curious, he brought his hand up to his nostrils and sniffed the substance. Then, after checking his surroundings to make sure that the area was secure, he lifted his helmet and sampled the gore with his tongue, analyzing its taste and texture. It was satisfactory enough, and Rames lapped up the remains before pulling his helmet back down.
Rames-Une-Teral was the leader of this particular assassin patrol. With nothing else to keep him busy, Rames uttered a commanding grunt as he waved seven armored soldiers to move into the shadows of an alley. He followed.
The Invader in front of Rames, a rookie named Ger’occh-Tahcmeh, spoke up. “What you did back there, sir,” he whispered, “was amazing.”
Rames appreciated the comment. He didn’t let it show, though, as he smartly smacked the soldier upside the head and told him to keep quiet.
The other end of the alley opened up to a massive opening with grasses and trees, with several roads that connected various large gray cemented areas together. At the very center of all this stood a massive 5-story white and silver fortress-like building. As Rames and the patrol watched from the shadows, several humans ran by in various stages of panic. Strange colored vehicles, somehow floating a few feet off the ground, whipped all around the area, going to and from the building. From where he stood, Rames could see that the structure’s cavernous entrance was delicate and unprotected. Pathetic.
But Rames’ gut instincts were telling him that there was something important about the building. He needed to take control of it. To do so would require a daring attack, and in order to succeed, the Invaders under his command would need to be healthy and alert.
The commanding Invader carefully eyed his team and came to a conclusion.
“So,” he started, “who wants to go into that fortress and kill the humans inside?”
In unison, the battle-eager patrol agreed, setting their minds and reloading their weapons.
*****
Captain Janet Grayson stood on the bridge of the LNS Michigan, studying the3d holographic model of the mysterious battleship, deep in thought as she tried to find the best route into the blind spot in its weapons system. She didn’t want to fly up and drop from directly above; that took too much time, and was easy to catch on. Should she perform such a maneuver, the enemy battleship could very well notice and thwart any approach by simply rolling on its side.
Grayson needed a different tactic. She approached the holoprojector and, using the control pad underneath it, began to manipulate the image. The red field around the holographic battleship mutated into a variety of colors and lines as it outlined the area coverage of each weapon. Again the captain began to analyze the now modified image, hoping to find a good entry point.
Lieutenant Warnack spoke up, interrupting her thought process. “M’am, I’m picking up three unknown contacts on long range sensors.”
Grayson looked at the lieutenant. “Show me.”
“Yes, M’am.” A few seconds later, the holographic model of the alien battleship shifted to the side while a model of three entirely new ships took place in the gap. The captain raised an eyebrow, intrigued by their shapes.
“Lieutenant, make a detailed scan of those ships. I want to see weapons, armor, and equipment.”
Warnack confirmed the order and began to put the battleship scanners through their paces. New pieces of the ship morphed into place on the model as new data was obtained. Four turrets popped into view as seams in the armor grew all around the unknown ship in light yellow lines. Finally, a large unknown component fell on the nose of each ship, flashing orange.
From her position, captain Grayson looked back and forth between the enemy battleship and the new ships. She quickly found similarities: Sharp fins that extruded out of the body, armor layout… were these new contacts some sort of support group for the enemy?
Grayson looked over at the sensory console. “Lieutenant Warnack, where are these new contacts?”
“M’am, they are approximately 12.7 K outside of weapons range.” Warnack turned and made eye contact with the captain. “And that’s their estimated weapons range,” he added. Warnack returned his attention to the console. “They’re on approach, although moving extremely slowly. Estimated speed is twenty KPS.”
“Twenty KPS?” the captain thought. “What the hell are they doing out there?” Grayson carefully eyed the strange looming ships, taking careful notice of the flashing orange components on their noses. “Lieutenant Warnack, what are those things on their prows?”
“The scans are inconclusive, m’am.” Warnack studied data that the console displayed on its monitor. “They might be forward weapon cannons, but the computer hasn’t been able to prove that.” He typed in various commands as he tried to find out more about the ships.
Captain Grayson looked away from the holographs and turned her attention towards Officer Smith, who was busy surveying the fighters and listening to their reports. “Officer Smith,” she stated, grabbing the woman’s attention. “How are the Defenders holding up?”
Officer Smith turned, her brown eyes locking onto those of her superior’s. “M’am, our forces are having difficulty fending off the enemy. They’re being forced to fight in groups.” She paused as she received new info through her headphones. “But you will be happy to know that the Omaha has closed in and had started to launch her fighters.” She paused again. “M’am, we’re being hailed by the Omaha. Want me to patch it through?”
“Do it.”
“Yes M’am.” Smith hit a few keys on her panel, and a man’s voice, both calm and commanding came through the overhead speakers.
“Michigan, this is Captain Anderson of the battleship Omaha, approaching your position. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here? I can see that thing from here, mind telling me who built it? How did it get here?”
Grayson looked up at the ceiling and spoke. “Omaha, this is Captain Grayson of the battleship Michigan. To be honest, I don’t know who built that thing or where it came from. The Michigan was on the far side of the planet when this battleship showed up.” Through the speakers, she heard her fellow captain huff in disappointment. She continued. “It’s supported by strange fighters that can warp themselves to other places, and three as-of-yet unidentified ships.
“Get your computer ready for an uplink; I’m going to send you info about the battleship, fighters, and unknown craft.” Grayson nodded towards Officer Smith, who used the Michigan’s communication equipment to send a data feed to the Omaha. “They might help us in destroying them.”
It was several seconds before Captain Anderson made his reply. “Hmm… Thank you, Grayson.” He paused. “Do you have any sort of plan?”
Captain Janet Grayson thought about the question momentarily. Now that the Omaha was here, new possibilities arose…
“Yes,” she finally said. “I do.”
Author's Note: Hooray! This story is now over 100 pages in MS Word! *Does the 100 page dance*
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/25/2006 3:45:05 PM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/26/2006 1:33:43 AM
Note: Chapter 23 was edited for continuity - a new character was introduced.
WARNING: There is a small section in this chapter that you might find offensive/disgusting, so I apoligize in advance if you find it upsetting.
Here it is: the entire 24th chapter.
Chapter 24
Unknown space, outside Sirius
Thank fortunes, she understood the message.
But what of her mother? She is obviously very determined to get her. This… compromises things. Should I help? If I do, It might catch me, as even now it watches me. And if it does, it will tell Him, and he could easily kill me. But why does He retain me so? I still do not know why he keeps me alive. And I can not find out… it would catch me, and then He would definitely kill me. But to be truthful, I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ve been here for so long…
What are you thinking? You digress! Get back on track!
Never mind the consequences. He has caught me before, and he has not killed me yet; he still needs me for something. Yes, I will empty their way. Clear the way of their kind. Not of Them, It will find out... I have to work quickly.
*****
Juni steered the skiff onto the lesser roads of the city, skyscrapers towering high above her. The first thing she noticed was that her path was devoid of people. Not only people, but shuttles and skiffs as well. Where was everybody?
Bronze and silver buildings whipped by the skiff as Juni pushed the vehicle to eighty miles per hour. She put aside her questions and focused on getting to her mother’s place.
“They’re going to kill my mother,” Juni thought. “If I don’t get there in time, they’re going to break into her house and kill her. Just like they destroyed Orillion’s forces, they’re going to kill her…”
Juni was stressed out. She was gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles had turned white. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her breathing was somewhat erratic. Trent saw this and decided that she needed to be calmed down.
“Jun’ko?” Trent started, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. Nothing’s going to happen to your mother.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Do you mind slowing down a bit? You’re making me nervous.” His attempt was ill effective, and his fiancée shrugged off his hand. Trent was forced to sit there, hoping that Juni’s driving skills were as good as her piloting skills.
As they drove past an intersection, a dark, somewhat hairy figure darted out from the cross street and in front of the skiff. It wasn’t human. Juni swerved to miss it, but she wasn’t fast enough. She hit the thing with a glancing blow, and nine hundred pounds of vehicle shuttered from the impact. The figure let out a garbled roar of pain as it was thrown off its feet, its jaw broken.
Proving to be an advantage for almost any situation, skiffs were designed to be ‘smart’ vehicles, equipped with computers that would take control of the craft if it found itself in a situation that could be hazardous to the passengers. One such situation involved loss of traction. Gravpads could not maintain good traction if its course was suddenly altered at high speeds. So as Juni swerved to miss the figure, the vehicle began to slide. The skiff’s onboard computer, sensing that the craft was in danger of crashing, locked the controls and applied the brakes in an attempt to prevent itself from hitting anything. The skiff slowed until it was at a near standstill before it gave control back to Juni, who loudly swore at the vehicle for trying to save her life.
“What the hell did we hit?!” Trent exclaimed, looking back to see what the fallen figure was. Juni did not bother to respond as she forced the skiff to accelerate, the engine whining loudly.
Trent stared in amazement as the thing they had hit actually stood up and continued to howl in agony, its mouth limply hanging open. As Trent continued to watch, the creature attempted to correct the damage and took hold of what remained of its jaw, only to discover that this put it in even more pain. It staggered on its feet, roaring louder than before. It continued to roar as it retained its grip on the shattered mandible, not quite smart enough to ease the pain by letting go. Trent couldn’t help but smirk at the thing’s stupidity.
His amusement was short lived, however, as four more of the creatures, two of whom were donned in rustic metal armor, rounded the corner, looked at their injured companion and then at the skiff. Trent swore that he could hear their throats rumble a challenge as they leveled strange weapons at the vehicle, an intense red glow quickly growing within their barrels. Almost in unison, the weapons discharged with a resounding CRACK, unleashing deadly concentrated antimatter projectiles (smaller versions of the ones made by Invader capital ships) into the air.
“Oh f***” Trent thought. He swiveled back around in his seat as red-hot orbs of destruction hissed by the skiff. He leaned towards Juni and grabbed her shoulder. “Jun’ko, we need to go faster,” he pleaded. “You hit an Invader, and now its friends are pissed. We need to move!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” she half-shouted, with much irritation in her voice. She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal, despite the fact that it was already down to the floor. The skiff continued to gain speed.
An alien roar made Trent turn his attention back to the Invaders, and he glanced behind the skiff to see the four aliens begin to pursue the vehicle, still firing their weapons. The Invaders started off in awkward steps, as if unused to running, but nevertheless they quickly gained speed. The creatures ran with incredibly long strides as their powerful legs vaulted their bodies into the air with each downward thrust. It looked like they were skipping. Trent might have found this funny if the four aliens weren’t trying to kill both himself and Juni – or the fact that the Invaders were actually catching up.
“Faster, Jun’ko…” Trent said half-mindedly. Juni retorted with what Trent was sure was an insult, but he didn’t bother to listen. His mind went numb; he couldn’t think of anything he could do.
Fortunately for him, the Invaders’ unusual running habits made it nearly impossible for them to land a shot on the skiff. Juni kept her foot down on the accelerator, and gradually the aliens began to fall behind. Trent came back to his senses and breathed a sigh of relief before turning back forward.
“That was close.” Trent looked at Juni. She was hunched over the steering wheel, her lips pursed together, breathing heavily. Dammit. Now she was even more stressed out.
“Juni, you need to calm down…” Trent started. Suddenly he was interrupted by a hoarse cry.
“Kreen mutsh tun nehrasheh!!”
Once again Trent pivoted around to see what was happening. One of the armored Invaders, dressed in a left shoulder pad and right arm guard, bellowed a war cry as it put every ounce of its being into a dead sprint. It bounded towards its target, closing in on the skiff at speeds just under fifty miles per hour. It squeezed the handle of its weapon, dumping a firing charge into the barrel. However, this time Trent held on to his senses. Wasting little time, he grabbed his blaster, opened the window and leaned out, facing backwards as his hair whipped in his face. From there he leveled his weapon at the Invader, who still trailed about fifty yards behind the skiff.
Trent pulled the trigger and watched as tendrils of energy burst forth from the weapon and pedaled themselves into the Invader, their sizzling bodies burrowing deep into the alien’s skin. For a split second the being stumbled before regaining control over its body. It slowed and opened its mouth wide as it began to grow weary from the sprinting, face flushed yellow from the effort. Trent continued to fire upon the Invader as it steadied its weapon and released the trigger. The weapon discharged.
Concentrated antimatter erupted from the curved mouth of the alien weapon, its pernicious head punching through the air as it raced towards its destination. Time seemed to slow as it ran on a slightly arced trajectory, quickly gaining on the skiff. The Invader’s aim proved to be true as the boiling projectile slammed into the rear of the vehicle. The glowing dark matter orb exploded, easily blowing a hole through the craft’s thin skin, and began to dissolve the inner workings.
“Sh*t!” Trent shouted, ducking back into the skiff. He holstered his blaster.
Juni suddenly decided to speak. “We were hit, weren’t we?” she asked tensely. Trent looked at her and nodded, despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah.”
Juni looked at the dashboard dials. After a pause, she spoke up again. “The fuel tank’s been hit.”
“What?” Trent leaned over to look at the fuel gauge. It read 73%. As he watched, it ticked down to 72%, then 71%. He groaned. As if the situation could get any worse!
“We have a few minutes of power left,” Juni stated flatly. “Then we’re on foot.”
Trent sighed. “Can we get to the ships?” he asked.
Juni briefly looked over at her fiancé before returning her gaze to the road, easing the speeding air skiff through a gradual turn in the road. “No. We’re almost out of the city.” She glanced back at the fuel gauge. “We should have enough power to get to my mother’s place. After that, we can use her skiff to get to the ship hangar.”
Trent thought about what Juni said for a second before he grunted in approval. He had to admit it: even under stress, she was a good thinker.
*****
Rames-Une-Teral tore ahead of his patrol, snarling as he charged his attackers, barreling into the heart of their formation. Clutching his antimatter mortar in his left hand, he crouched down and began to swat the enemy with his right, with devastating results. Fingers outstretched, his five inch claws buried themselves deep into alien flesh before cutting upwards through organs and bones as Rames tossed the human bodies aside like rag dolls. The humans shrieked in their twittering language while those with weapons amassed their fire on the Invader’s huge, muscular body. Rames felt each and every hit as the energy bolts tunneled into his skin and burst, sending a spider web of pain through the surrounding tissues. This only fueled his rampage. He continued his assault, quickly cutting the enemy down until there was only one left. It turned and ran, but only managed to get a few dozen feet before Rames’ titanic stride brought the human close enough to be scooped up in a massive three-fingered grasp. Without hesitating, the gargantuan Invader took only a split second to whip around and hurl the tiny creature high into the air. He did not bother to watch where the body landed.
The battle won, Rames turned and walked back to his patrol, who were in shock at the performance they had just witnessed. Rames laughed inwardly. He had always enjoyed the reactions he got when he was in battle.
Keeping a serious face inside his helmet, the victorious Invader spoke to his patrol. “What are you soldiers looking at?” he demanded. “Keep an eye out for the enemy!” Upon that command, the rest of the patrol came to their senses and began to shuffle about, readying their pistols and mortars, eyes glancing into corners and shadows.
Rames-Une-Teral rejoined the assassin patrol and checked his wounds. Then, satisfied that they were only minor injuries, he brought his right hand back up to his mortar cannon, only to realize that it was covered in human blood and bits of red meat. Curious, he brought his hand up to his nostrils and sniffed the substance. Then, after checking his surroundings to make sure that the area was secure, he lifted his helmet and sampled the gore with his tongue, analyzing its taste and texture. It was satisfactory enough, and Rames lapped up the remains before pulling his helmet back down.
Rames-Une-Teral was the leader of this particular assassin patrol. With nothing else to keep him busy, Rames uttered a commanding grunt as he waved seven armored soldiers to move into the shadows of an alley. He followed.
The Invader in front of Rames, a rookie named Ger’occh-Tahcmeh, spoke up. “What you did back there, sir,” he whispered, “was amazing.”
Rames appreciated the comment. He didn’t let it show, though, as he smartly smacked the soldier upside the head and told him to keep quiet.
The other end of the alley opened up to a massive opening with grasses and trees, with several roads that connected various large gray cemented areas together. At the very center of all this stood a massive 5-story white and silver fortress-like building. As Rames and the patrol watched from the shadows, several humans ran by in various stages of panic. Strange colored vehicles, somehow floating a few feet off the ground, whipped all around the area, going to and from the building. From where he stood, Rames could see that the structure’s cavernous entrance was delicate and unprotected. Pathetic.
But Rames’ gut instincts were telling him that there was something important about the building. He needed to take control of it. To do so would require a daring attack, and in order to succeed, the Invaders under his command would need to be healthy and alert.
The commanding Invader carefully eyed his team and came to a conclusion.
“So,” he started, “who wants to go into that fortress and kill the humans inside?”
In unison, the battle-eager patrol agreed, setting their minds and reloading their weapons.
*****
Captain Janet Grayson stood on the bridge of the LNS Michigan, studying the3d holographic model of the mysterious battleship, deep in thought as she tried to find the best route into the blind spot in its weapons system. She didn’t want to fly up and drop from directly above; that took too much time, and was easy to catch on. Should she perform such a maneuver, the enemy battleship could very well notice and thwart any approach by simply rolling on its side.
Grayson needed a different tactic. She approached the holoprojector and, using the control pad underneath it, began to manipulate the image. The red field around the holographic battleship mutated into a variety of colors and lines as it outlined the area coverage of each weapon. Again the captain began to analyze the now modified image, hoping to find a good entry point.
Lieutenant Warnack spoke up, interrupting her thought process. “M’am, I’m picking up three unknown contacts on long range sensors.”
Grayson looked at the lieutenant. “Show me.”
“Yes, M’am.” A few seconds later, the holographic model of the alien battleship shifted to the side while a model of three entirely new ships took place in the gap. The captain raised an eyebrow, intrigued by their shapes.
“Lieutenant, make a detailed scan of those ships. I want to see weapons, armor, and equipment.”
Warnack confirmed the order and began to put the battleship scanners through their paces. New pieces of the ship morphed into place on the model as new data was obtained. Four turrets popped into view as seams in the armor grew all around the unknown ship in light yellow lines. Finally, a large unknown component fell on the nose of each ship, flashing orange.
From her position, captain Grayson looked back and forth between the enemy battleship and the new ships. She quickly found similarities: Sharp fins that extruded out of the body, armor layout… were these new contacts some sort of support group for the enemy?
Grayson looked over at the sensory console. “Lieutenant Warnack, where are these new contacts?”
“M’am, they are approximately 12.7 K outside of weapons range.” Warnack turned and made eye contact with the captain. “And that’s their estimated weapons range,” he added. Warnack returned his attention to the console. “They’re on approach, although moving extremely slowly. Estimated speed is twenty KPS.”
“Twenty KPS?” the captain thought. “What the hell are they doing out there?” Grayson carefully eyed the strange looming ships, taking careful notice of the flashing orange components on their noses. “Lieutenant Warnack, what are those things on their prows?”
“The scans are inconclusive, m’am.” Warnack studied data that the console displayed on its monitor. “They might be forward weapon cannons, but the computer hasn’t been able to prove that.” He typed in various commands as he tried to find out more about the ships.
Captain Grayson looked away from the holographs and turned her attention towards Officer Smith, who was busy surveying the fighters and listening to their reports. “Officer Smith,” she stated, grabbing the woman’s attention. “How are the Defenders holding up?”
Officer Smith turned, her brown eyes locking onto those of her superior’s. “M’am, our forces are having difficulty fending off the enemy. They’re being forced to fight in groups.” She paused as she received new info through her headphones. “But you will be happy to know that the Omaha has closed in and had started to launch her fighters.” She paused again. “M’am, we’re being hailed by the Omaha. Want me to patch it through?”
“Do it.”
“Yes M’am.” Smith hit a few keys on her panel, and a man’s voice, both calm and commanding came through the overhead speakers.
“Michigan, this is Captain Anderson of the battleship Omaha, approaching your position. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here? I can see that thing from here, mind telling me who built it? How did it get here?”
Grayson looked up at the ceiling and spoke. “Omaha, this is Captain Grayson of the battleship Michigan. To be honest, I don’t know who built that thing or where it came from. The Michigan was on the far side of the planet when this battleship showed up.” Through the speakers, she heard her fellow captain huff in disappointment. She continued. “It’s supported by strange fighters that can warp themselves to other places, and three as-of-yet unidentified ships.
“Get your computer ready for an uplink; I’m going to send you info about the battleship, fighters, and unknown craft.” Grayson nodded towards Officer Smith, who used the Michigan’s communication equipment to send a data feed to the Omaha. “They might help us in destroying them.”
It was several seconds before Captain Anderson made his reply. “Hmm… Thank you, Grayson.” He paused. “Do you have any sort of plan?”
Captain Janet Grayson thought about the question momentarily. Now that the Omaha was here, new possibilities arose…
“Yes,” she finally said. “I do.”
Author's Note: Hooray! This story is now over 100 pages in MS Word! *Does the 100 page dance*
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/25/2006 3:45:05 PM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 2/26/2006 1:33:43 AM
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