SOLDIERS OF THE SOVEREIGNTY
The Hammer Falls
Reference:
United Sovereignty of Earth (USE, US): A nation consisting of humans, the capital is in the human home world, Earth. It owns hundreds planets and is an interstellar superpower, perhaps the most powerful nation in existence.
United Sovereignty Marine Corps (USMC): They are the first to enter the battle field. They do not belong to the army; they are an independent fighting force. They are a force designed to rapidly attack and capture territory. They are the few, the proud.
Bragulans (nickname: Bears): Humanoid aliens from the planet Bragule, they are shorter than us due to the gravity of their planet. Because of the gravity they are also slightly more muscular than the average human. Their faces resemble that of the earth creatures known as bears. They have a keen sense of smell and are short sighted. They are renowned for the amount of damage their bodies can take. They have green blood.
Bragulan Star Empire (BSE): An empire consisting of innumerable planets. It is totalitarian in nature and is an interstellar superpower whose might contests the United Sovereignty of Earth.
Gamma-Sigma (GS): A faction of freedom fighters opposing the BSE regime, they are considered by many as terrorists. They are hostile to most nations.
Prologue:
Date: April 25, 2567
Location: United Sovereignty of Earth colony planet Daron
Situation: Captured by the Gamma-Sigma, a Bragulan terrorist militia, US Marines are sent to eliminate the militia presence and liberate the colony
Lt. John Baylor darted into an alleyway; his power armored body inches away from being riddled with sizzling holes and coated in acidic residue. The lieutenant was thinking about how the mission was proceeding. All was good, most of the civilians had been freed. The key personnel and the bulk of the Gamma-Sigma were concentrated in the City Hall. It was proceeding as planned, but resistance was stiffening and that would complicate things. He had reminded himself that all of this crap was going to end very soon. The Gamma-Sigma had already been cornered; it was just a matter of time. John lunged into the shabby rat infested alley, his thoughts interrupted by the hiss of a K-bolt passing just inches from his concealed face. He cursed himself for his lack of concentration and leaned against the concrete wall as the K-bolts, railgun slugs which transform into plasmatic and highly corrosive green energy bolts, struck and began smashing and melting away the concrete. This was not good.
He looked at the other side and saw an enemy soldier aiming a rocket propelled grenade at him. By reflex, John hugged the ground just as the rocket swooshed overhead and exploded at the spot where the soldier who was pursuing him was supposed to be standing on. If the soldier was fast, he would’ve ducked and lived, if not, too bad for him. But John didn’t bother thinking about that as he scanned the area for cover. Within a millisecond he swiftly rolled behind a brand new garbage bin while making some noise against the bin in the process. John saw the enemy tried to reload his cumbersome launcher. John knew that an RPG took some time to reload and he recalled that the soldier didn’t have any weapon aside from the launcher. He wasn’t certain of this but decided to take the chance, if the soldier had completed loading his RPG, he would be dead. If the soldier had a sidearm, he would also be dead.
John stood up and fired a quick burst of plasma from his MBR-40 which was the standard rifle for the USE’s armed forces (it had a bullpup configuration with an under slung grenade launcher, the rifle’s fuel could fire 80 plasma bolts though the number of bolts varied upon the yield). The blue-hot bolts of energy tore through the armor of the Gamma-Sigma soldier, burning through flesh and bone and causing organs and body fluids to blow up in a violent steam explosion. The bolts left violent exit marks on the carbon armor as the soldier’s limp and smoking body dropped dead.
“Prick,” he cursed the corpse with proud satisfaction. John relaxed and decided to call his team, knowing that he was lost. He activated his suit’s comm.-link and was about to speak to one of the squad’s men when the garbage bin was violently punctured by K-bolts. John remembered the first bear he was running away from and quickly fired a snap shot, putting a hole on the soldier’s mask and vaporizing his face. The soldier could’ve dodged a rocket, but dodging a bolt of superheated gas going at relativistic speeds was impossible, John knew that and now the prick knew it too. John turned his back on the smoking body and spoke, “Jedd, where are you guys?”
“Sir, we’re being pinned down in a ditch due south of you. You can see us with your HUD’s (heads up display) X-ray vision, right? Well, you can also see that an entire truckload of bears is pinning us down. We need help!”
“Ah, fuck!” John cursed, irritated by the impotency of his full screen HUD’s x-ray vision. While the x-ray vision was advanced and sensitive, it still had a limited range. His tactical map did locate their general location and the distant sound of gunfire could easily be heard. So John carefully but quickly sneaked through the messy alleys and passed by battered buildings heading for the truckload of bears that was pinning down the rest of his squad. The concrete ditch where the squad was taking cover in was being demolished by anti-material K-bolts from the B-NET cannons and RPGs. His men hadn’t much time, John knew that and he would be damned if he just sat back there and did nothing. John pumped his rifle’s grenade launcher and lurked in the shadows, crouching behind an enormous slab of concrete. His helmet’s HUD scanned the truck with its X-ray vision, searching for any vulnerable point. It confirmed a weak spot precisely where he thought it was. He smiled, knowing full well he owned the bears’ Bragulan asses. He squeezed the rifle’s trigger and the grenade went straight toward the fuel tank and exploded, sending the truck off the ground and turning it into a massive fireball which cooked its passengers alive. They died before the truck hit the ground.
“Never knew what hit ‘em,” John muttered. He scanned the area for surviving Gamma-Sigma soldiers. There were none. He jogged towards the ditch, his feet crunching concrete chips, glass shards, wood, burnt metal and whatnot. He slid into the ditch and looked at the men, who were partially buried by dirt, chunks of concrete and all other forms of debris. “Every one of you guys okay?” He stretched his neck out so he could see everyone and count all the heads. There were a few heads missing. Three of which belonged to the squad’s snipers, they were probably inside some building, shooting at scared squirming bears and raising all sorts of hell. The other one…was a short man whom he could’ve missed, but certainly the guy’s helmet’s antenna would’ve stuck out. John had a bad feeling about this.
“Bouviere lost an arm sir, he won’t be going anywhere,” reported Private First Class Carla Goodman interrupting the lieutenant’s train of thought. She was pointing to the short man lying on the ground; his right arm was replaced with a bloody stump which was covered with bandages soaked with a medical liquid. John relaxed a bit when he saw that his comrade hadn’t bit the dust. But obviously, he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
John shook his head. He thought hard for ways to save his soldier’s life and gazed at his HUD. He activated the tactical map and saw the locations of various units, represented as blips of various colors, within a given radius along with an overhead 3d representation of the area. With a press of a button, both Carla and Jedd saw the map in their HUD. In the map was a bunch of blips - two blue ones which were traveling in a road which led to a green blip, it was obvious that if the green stayed stationary or moved towards the blues, they would cross paths. “Johnson squad along with a few Rangers should be going through this road in while. So you two meet up with them and put Bouviere in one of the Rangers and get him some medical attention. Everyone split up Bouviere’s gear and let’s get moving. Gamma-Sigma resistance is stiffening, we need all the men we have to take the City Hall so-” John’s statement was cut off as the unmistakable shriek of an incoming artillery round filled the air. Everybody ducked right before a big deli across the street was demolished. It was a rain of twisted metal and concrete partially melted into glass as the structure was reduced to ruins. The artillery guys were sloppy today, they must’ve drunk too much the other night, John thought as he stood up amidst the falling debris and continued. “That was one of ours. Let’s move!”
The squad moved swiftly through the streets. Everybody was alert, especially Baylor. He felt vulnerable crossing the empty streets, surrounded by empty buildings and was uneasy at the lack of cover. He was prepared to pounce at anything which could shield him from the expected rain of K-bolts. His sensors indicated that the area was empty and they did cover a considerable distance - five streets from the ditch - without incident, but John kept eyeing a bullet-riddled building surrounded by flames. Anyone hiding in the building would have had his body heat masked by the high temperature though the smoke was irrelevant for sensors could pierce it and the building was down wind. He was extremely suspicious and was about to switch into X-ray vision when explosions down the road caught his attention. He cautiously moved forward, walking by a destroyed Ranger. Rangers were one of the standard vehicles of the Marine Corps with six wheels and an automatic grenade launcher or an anti-material plasma cannon on top, a plasma cannon on the front passenger seat and on the rear side and a mortar located on the hood, inside it was ammunition and a Fang missile launcher which fired THOR (Tube launched Homing or Radio guided) missile. But this particular Ranger was nothing but a smoking heap of junk. The driver must’ve been very unlucky, because Rangers were very safe combat vehicles, killing one took a lot of luck. Suddenly an RPG rocketed from the flaming building. John swiftly hid behind the dead vehicle, as did his immediate companions. The others scampered behind dumpsters, concrete posts or into a building right beside them.
John realized what had happened and was about to yell orders, but before he could, the squad fired instantaneously at the building where the rocket came from. The squad’s firepower filled the building with holes, making it resemble Swiss cheese while several Bragulans immediately fell from the windows. K-bolts and laser pulses erupted from other windows while another RPG was launched. The rocket propelled grenade sailed through the air and blew up on the husk of the Ranger, but obviously, the Ranger’s armor was still intact as the RPG’s shaped explosive didn’t shear through the steel. The fact that John and his fellow marines weren’t blown to smithereens made him praised the Lord. He wasn’t religious, but when one faced with such experiences, one couldn’t help believing some divine power. John resumed firing at the building, shooting at the window where the rockets came from. A K-bolt exploded on the Ranger’s charred armor plating just a foot away from his helmeted head. With his free hand John opened a pouch in his utility belt, aiming to get a grenade when a B-NET poked out of another window and opened fire. He ducked behind the car and leaned against its underbelly as the powerful green bolts mauled the Ranger, creating small explosions and deafening noise.
It was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere and the situation would deteriorate very quickly. In time they would all be dead if no decisive action was to be taken and John would be damned if he let himself die horribly in some god forsaken shit hole like this. He wanted to rot in a retirement home, not to die honorably and painfully in a battlefield. “Someone get a fucking missile launcher and screw those shit heads! Please!”
“Sir, I have one but I’m pinned down,” replied Pvt. Steven Ling. A soldier beside him fired a grenade launcher at the Gamma-Sigma soldiers, turning a room into a smoking wreck and killing a handful of bears, but for that grenade, the Gamma-Sigma retaliated with two RPGs which exploded right on top of the Ranger.
“Shit!” John cursed. Then a flying chunk of sizzling metal scratched his visor, causing him to curse again. Then the cascade of bolts and laser beams intensified on the Ranger, tearing chunks which fell on the soldiers using the thing for cover. Baylor cursed once more.
“Fuck this!” he screamed right before an RPG glanced off of the Ranger and struck the ground just meters in front of him. A soldier beside him had shrapnel cut through the weak ankle armoring. John mentally screamed a string of profanity again as he pulled the pin off his grenade and blindly threw a fastball at the building. The building was filled with bears; the grenade had to kill something. There was a big explosion…on the opposite sidewalk. John ducked as a sweeping laser beam nearly decapitated him. “Fuck…never did like baseball.”
Someone screamed beside him, causing him to look over his shoulder to see a squad mate clutching a smoking hand. He looked down and saw the soldier’s two severed fingers. Gunships were supposed to be patrolling the area, giving air support to units in trouble, but there were no gunships as far as the eye could see. “Christ! Sonofabitch! Where is the air support? We’re dealing with an entire building full of these bastards! Someone radio the fucking air support”
“Will do, sir,” said Sgt. Joshua Cruise who was hiding in a small building which had one of its walls blasted open. Beside him and sending bursts of plasma bolts towards the enemy was Sgt. Timothy Gore, a tall, muscular and slightly chubby guy who totted an MG-60, a light anti-personnel phased plasma cannon. Joshua flipped open his wrist computer and dialed for the light carrier Iron Fist which orbited the planet.
“Hello,” said the female voice of the Iron Fist’s communication’s AI. Joshua would’ve been irritated at the cheery voice if a burnt Bragulan arm that landed right beside him didn’t distract him.
“Operator, we need air support!” he screamed at the AI. It was cheerful, it was oblivious to the miserable situation the squad was in, but Joshua was too busy eyeing the arm to be truly irritated. The Operator’s reply was blotted out by the noise of a nearby dumpster sizzling and burning thanks to a laser beam. The Operator probably wanted the coordinates of where the air support was to be directed so he gave the coordinates of the building containing the enemy. There was another explosion and a large fragment of an RPG’s case bounced off of his visor, jolting his face. “Ow, shit! And make it fast!”
“A gunship has been notified and you will be relieved shortly, have a nice day,” the ever pleasant artificial voice said.
“Yeah right,” Joshua sardonically mumbled to himself. He grabbed the severed Bragulan arm and tossed it away, he then activated his comm. link and spoke in a pleasant voice, imitating the AI’s annoying voice. “Sir, air support is coming. Have a nice day.”
“Not funny,” John replied, not appreciating the foul attempt at humor as a melting hubcap flew across the air, forcing him to duck. He knew how annoying talking to an AI could be in a combat situation. The B-NET ceased firing, obviously it was being reloaded, someone capitalized on this and threw a grenade into the gun’s position, killing those manning the cannon. John then poked his head out and fired at a window. Return fire came in the form of a K-bolt which hit him clipped him by the arm and pushed him down towards the ground. He fell and soon realized that he wasn’t dead. The bolt was stopped by the armor and the residue didn’t burn through the plasteel outer layer of the armor, but seeped into the hole made by the bolt. He desperately tried to wipe the sizzling gunk away and put some dirt on the hole to neutralize the residue. K-bolt residue could burn a hole through your body, it could leave disfiguring scars and would hurt like hell, John wanted the residue to stop before it reached his skin. And stop it did, the suit auto-sealed the hole and neutralized the acidic residue with a thick gel-like anti-penetration, shock absorbing, and heat redistributing (for anti-laser/plasma defense and IR camouflage) liquid (AKA ASH gel). John exhaled sharply as the hole was sealed, leaving a burn mark and acrid smoke.
The suit had a fluid delivery system to replenish the user and ward of dehydration. Since the suit was enclosed and removing the helmet would be too cumbersome during combat, the system was built into the suit. John bit on the straw and sipped the fluid - it was filled with nutrients and tasted like Iced Tea. John rested his head on the Ranger.
“Sir, you okay?” asked a fellow squad mate. John nodded his helmeted head as the fluids filled him with renewed vigor.
John then fired several measured shots. To his pleasure, all of the plasma bolts found their mark. A particular plasma bolt lanced through the thick neck and meager armoring of an enemy soldier who was aiming an RPG. The bolt severed the head with a steam explosion and vaporized the face of a helmet-less soldier behind the first one. John ducked back into the protection of the Ranger as quickly as he came up and noticed that his weapon was beeping, a signal that the magazine was empty. He pulled off the spent magazine and reloaded his weapon without looking, with the speed and efficiency of an experienced soldier.
“Cover me!” Private First Class Jerry Benjamin yelled as he slapped Sgt. Timothy’s shoulder pad. He was sick of the situation and wanted to do something about it, namely kill some bear bitches.
“Everyone, cover Jerry, fire on three,” the sergeant told the soldiers in their vicinity as the eager private loaded his grenade launcher and pumped one of the inch wide grenades into the launcher’s chamber. “Get ready, one…two…three!”
Timothy and the troopers unleashed a plasmatic hell while Jerry jumped on top a pile of debris and took aim. Adrenalin was coursing through his body as K-bolts and lasers were just inches away from hitting him. The immense barrage of blue hot plasma fire from the marines caught some of the Bragulans by surprise, tearing bodies into pieces. The other Gamma-Sigma soldiers quickly took cover, avoiding the fire of plasma as Jerry squeezed the trigger of his rifle. The young trooper’s aim was true and the grenade went straight into a window and exploded. A cloud of dust emerged from the window and all was still in that particular section of the building while elsewhere, K-bolts and lasers and all sorts of small arms and RPGs resumed firing as if nothing happened.
“Jerry, get down!” Joshua said, noticing an enemy soldier in the window. He lunged for his subordinate, attempting to push him away from the laser which sizzled through the air at light speed. Adrenalin and performance enhancing drugs were coursing through Joshua’s veins and causing his brain to go into overdrive, for that second the world was in slow motion and it was as if his body was swimming in molasses. He almost saw the beam inch towards Jerry.
It hit dead center of Jerry’s chest, catching him by surprise and causing him to drop to the floor. The beam penetrated the suit’s advanced armor’s first two layers, the first was composed of plasteel, an incredibly strong and durable and light plastic compound, and the second was the gel-like liquid. The beam was considerably weakened by the first two layers and the silksteel fibers weaved in between both (and all other) layers. The third layer of ceramic ablative armor took considerable damage but held firm, saving Jerry’s life and proving the superior technological quality of the USE’s equipment. Joshua dragged Jerry out of the line of fire as the rest of the marines covered them. He looked down at Jerry and checked his suit. “Jer, you alright?”
“Yeah,” the solder replied, breathing quickly through the de-con filter located on the face of the suit. He was in a daze; he looked down to his chest plate which was still smoking. There was an inch wide hole which was overflowing with the ASH gel. In moments the gel in and around the hole quickly solidified, patching it up. He touched his chest, feeling the heat through his gloves and realized how close to death he had come. “That was…close.”
“Don’t count your balls yet, we’re still stuck in this shit hole,” Joshua commented as an RPG flew right above his head, as if accenting his point. The projectile exploded in the other side of the building which they were using as cover, harming nobody but causing smoke and dust to cover them. “Jesus that WAS close. Whew! I could’ve lost my head.”
John saw what happened to Jerry and he quickly turned on his comm.-link to inquire what had happened. “Josh, what the fuck was that about? What is Jerry’s status?”
“He’s alive sir. Unharmed.”
“Great. Tell him he’s a stupid cunt, what he did was fucking dumb, and fucking brave too. I’ll recommend him for what he fucking did; he’ll be given a medal or something,” Jerry was a new kid, a rookie, a newbie. And what he did was brave, gutsy and deserving praise despite the fact that the kid obviously didn’t know what he was getting into. John respected courage and the fact that the kid was smart enough to ask for cover fire rather than just getting himself killed without even bothering to ask for protective fire.
“He’s a good kid, you know-“
“Yeah. Hold on, I’m getting something on the radio. Wait,” John, picking up a transmission. Hopefully it was air support, coming in to waste those mother fuckers.
“This is super six four, we’ve received orders from HQ to give assistance to Baylor squad. Something about a strafing run. We’ve been given the coordinates, I’ll send them over for you to verify. Over.” The pilot’s monotonous voice said. For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, John smiled and had the urge to yell something not profane. John looked at his wrist computer which was beeping, which signaled that the coordinates have been received. The coordinates were correct. John switched on his comm. link.
“Everyone, we’ve got air support! We’ve got air support!” he said and the mud stained, dust covered, blood soaked troopers yelled cheers. John quickly returned to his conversation with the pilot. “Super six four, this is Baylor, thank you Lord for coming. What took you so long? The coordinates you gave me are correct! So what are you waiting for? Blow those fuckers away! Go! Go! Go!!!”
“Roger that.” The pilot said. Near the horizon, John saw the aircraft; it was far away and its details were unnoticeable. John magnified the image by 15 times and saw the HG-59 Raven hover gunship in all its lethal glory. It resembled a 21st century attack helicopter except that it was more aerodynamic and had wings with thrusters instead of rotors and vectored thrust engines in its tail. Under its main wings, which bristled with armaments, were two smaller wings, one on each side, bristling with missiles. Its nose had sensors built into it and below it was a rotating dual barreled phased plasma cannon designed to tear light-medium armored vehicles into tiny chunks of steel. “Commencing strafing run.”
“Everybody take cover!” John hollered through the comm. link as the gunship descended upon them with lightning speed. The gunship locked onto the building filled with Gamma-Sigma soldiers and fired. A missile streaked down to earth like a meteor and penetrated the building, shattering the concrete walls like fine china. Once it was within the structure it exploded in a massive thunderclap. The top of the building was blasted off as a maelstrom of smoke, concrete, twisted steel and mangled bodies raged. Another missile came down to earth and the building was gutted, entire corridors and rooms instantly reduced to smoldering debris and heaping piles of pebbles. A microsecond after that came another missile, exploding at the heart of the structure, destroying it totally. Now the gunship was almost above the building (or what was left of it), the Raven slowed down from 800km/h to a mere 150km/h. It opened fire with its dual plasma cannons, showering the remains of the building with rapid and precise bursts. The bolts were all aimed at the movement of Gamma-Sigma soldiers crawling from the ruins, and at the precise body temperature of their living and half-living bodies – which were of course filtered by the advanced sensors from the high background temperature. The bright blue-white bolts cascaded onto the shattered and flattened building. Bragulans, alive or dead, on the surfaced or buried under tons of rock, were immediately torn into bloody and crispy shreds. There was no friendly fire in this incident, the distinct signals given off by the BS-300 suits of the marines told the computer where not to shoot and the guns were only aimed at the area where the building once stood. Any heat signature outside the given area would not be engaged, that was the marines’ job.
The gunship passed by the building and rotated so that the cockpit would face where the tail was at just a second ago, while still moving at 150km/h in the direction where it was going (so now it was going backwards at 150km/h). It stopped and began encircling the place, its cockpit and plasma cannons constantly facing the remains of the building, monitoring the area for any life signs. There were none. The entire building filled with at least 60 Bragulans was reduced into a smoking ruin sterilized of all life apart from the microbes and cockroaches. The gunship turned away and began flying towards the setting sun.
In front of the gunship was a Gamma-Sigma soldier, he dashed across the empty street and nearly made it to the other side. Nearly. The gunship’s sensors picked up the movement and heat and other life signs and quickly engaged, firing a four shot burst, transforming the soldier’s body into cinders and miscellaneous small body parts - all covered with molten slag which previously composed the soldier’s battle suit.
SOTS: The Hammer Falls (New chapter!!!)
Moderator: LadyTevar
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Shroom Man 777
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SOTS: The Hammer Falls (New chapter!!!)
Last edited by Shroom Man 777 on 2004-06-27 09:33am, edited 15 times in total.
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Crazedwraith
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Shroom Man 777
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Crazedwraith
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Shroom Man 777 wrote:Shit!
Hey, post a review, not a minor nitpick!!!
Fine, it's good describtive writing but i think it lacks a certerain emotial involvement, i feel somewhat dettached from the story. I really wouldn't care if the supposedly main character was blown to shreds at this point. It needs to be able to hook me in to reading it. At this point i felt i was forcing myself to rrad it just so i could jusitfy my earluier nit picking. 
That said, it is very good writing
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Shroom Man 777
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Okay. How do I make the readers emotionally attached?-
Crazedwraith
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I have noo Idea, i'm not a writer. Mainly try to tell us what your charcters are thinking and such...-
Shroom Man 777
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Fixed it! Read it and weep at the beauty of...In the Future There Will be Robots. It has passion, drama, love. There is a manatee on stage and lasers cut it down, set it free from the bondage of the past. And there is snow, which represents love! And the robot makes a snow angel and we begin to cry. Close curtain!
SOLDIERS OF THE SOVEREIGNTY
The Hammer Falls
Reference:
United Sovereignty of Earth (USE, US): A nation consisting of humans, the capital is in the human home world, Earth. It owns hundreds planets and is an interstellar superpower, perhaps the most powerful nation in existence.
United Sovereignty Marine Corps (USMC): They are the first to enter the battle field. They do not belong to the army; they are an independent fighting force. They are a force designed to rapidly attack and capture territory. They are the few, the proud.
Bragulans (nickname: Bears): Humanoid aliens from the planet Bragule, they are shorter than us due to the gravity of their planet. Because of the gravity they are also slightly more muscular than the average human. Their faces resemble that of the earth creatures known as bears. They have a keen sense of smell and are short sighted. They are renowned for the amount of damage their bodies can take. They have green blood.
Bragulan Star Empire (BSE): An empire consisting of innumerable planets. It is totalitarian in nature and is an interstellar superpower whose might contests the United Sovereignty of Earth.
Gamma-Sigma (GS): A faction of freedom fighters opposing the BSE regime, they are considered by many as terrorists. They are hostile to most nations.
Prologue:
Date: April 25, 2567
Location: United Sovereignty of Earth colony planet Daron
Situation: Captured by the Gamma-Sigma, a Bragulan terrorist militia, US Marines are sent to eliminate the militia presence and liberate the colony
Lt. John Baylor darted into an alleyway; his power armored body inches away from being riddled with sizzling holes and coated in acidic residue. The lieutenant was thinking about how the mission was proceeding. All was good, most of the civilians had been freed. The key personnel and the bulk of the Gamma-Sigma were concentrated in the City Hall. It was proceeding as planned, but resistance was stiffening and that would complicate things. He had reminded himself that all of this crap was going to end very soon. The Gamma-Sigma had already been cornered; it was just a matter of time. John lunged into the shabby rat infested alley, his thoughts interrupted by the hiss of a K-bolt passing just inches from his concealed face. He cursed himself for his lack of concentration and leaned against the concrete wall as the K-bolts, railgun slugs which transform into plasmatic and highly corrosive green energy bolts, struck and began smashing and melting away the concrete. This was not good.
He looked at the other side and saw an enemy soldier aiming a rocket propelled grenade at him. By reflex, John hugged the ground just as the rocket swooshed overhead and exploded at the spot where the soldier who was pursuing him was supposed to be standing on. If the soldier was fast, he would’ve ducked and lived, if not, too bad for him. But John didn’t bother thinking about that as he scanned the area for cover. Within a millisecond he swiftly rolled behind a brand new garbage bin while making some noise against the bin in the process. John saw the enemy tried to reload his cumbersome launcher. John knew that an RPG took some time to reload and he recalled that the soldier didn’t have any weapon aside from the launcher. He wasn’t certain of this but decided to take the chance, if the soldier had completed loading his RPG, he would be dead. If the soldier had a sidearm, he would also be dead.
John stood up and fired a quick burst of plasma from his MBR-40 which was the standard rifle for the USE’s armed forces (it had a bullpup configuration with an under slung grenade launcher, the rifle’s fuel could fire 80 plasma bolts though the number of bolts varied upon the yield). The blue-hot bolts of energy tore through the armor of the Gamma-Sigma soldier, burning through flesh and bone and causing organs and body fluids to blow up in a violent steam explosion. The bolts left violent exit marks on the carbon armor as the soldier’s limp and smoking body dropped dead.
“Prick,” he cursed the corpse with proud satisfaction. John relaxed and decided to call his team, knowing that he was lost. He activated his suit’s comm.-link and was about to speak to one of the squad’s men when the garbage bin was violently punctured by K-bolts. John remembered the first bear he was running away from and quickly fired a snap shot, putting a hole on the soldier’s mask and vaporizing his face. The soldier could’ve dodged a rocket, but dodging a bolt of superheated gas going at relativistic speeds was impossible, John knew that and now the prick knew it too. John turned his back on the smoking body and spoke, “Jedd, where are you guys?”
“Sir, we’re being pinned down in a ditch due south of you. You can see us with your HUD’s (heads up display) X-ray vision, right? Well, you can also see that an entire truckload of bears is pinning us down. We need help!”
“Ah, fuck!” John cursed, irritated by the impotency of his full screen HUD’s x-ray vision. While the x-ray vision was advanced and sensitive, it still had a limited range. His tactical map did locate their general location and the distant sound of gunfire could easily be heard. So John carefully but quickly sneaked through the messy alleys and passed by battered buildings heading for the truckload of bears that was pinning down the rest of his squad. The concrete ditch where the squad was taking cover in was being demolished by anti-material K-bolts from the B-NET cannons and RPGs. His men hadn’t much time, John knew that and he would be damned if he just sat back there and did nothing. John pumped his rifle’s grenade launcher and lurked in the shadows, crouching behind an enormous slab of concrete. His helmet’s HUD scanned the truck with its X-ray vision, searching for any vulnerable point. It confirmed a weak spot precisely where he thought it was. He smiled, knowing full well he owned the bears’ Bragulan asses. He squeezed the rifle’s trigger and the grenade went straight toward the fuel tank and exploded, sending the truck off the ground and turning it into a massive fireball which cooked its passengers alive. They died before the truck hit the ground.
“Never knew what hit ‘em,” John muttered. He scanned the area for surviving Gamma-Sigma soldiers. There were none. He jogged towards the ditch, his feet crunching concrete chips, glass shards, wood, burnt metal and whatnot. He slid into the ditch and looked at the men, who were partially buried by dirt, chunks of concrete and all other forms of debris. “Every one of you guys okay?” He stretched his neck out so he could see everyone and count all the heads. There were a few heads missing. Three of which belonged to the squad’s snipers, they were probably inside some building, shooting at scared squirming bears and raising all sorts of hell. The other one…was a short man whom he could’ve missed, but certainly the guy’s helmet’s antenna would’ve stuck out. John had a bad feeling about this.
“Bouviere lost an arm sir, he won’t be going anywhere,” reported Private First Class Carla Goodman interrupting the lieutenant’s train of thought. She was pointing to the short man lying on the ground; his right arm was replaced with a bloody stump which was covered with bandages soaked with a medical liquid. John relaxed a bit when he saw that his comrade hadn’t bit the dust. But obviously, he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
John shook his head. He thought hard for ways to save his soldier’s life and gazed at his HUD. He activated the tactical map and saw the locations of various units, represented as blips of various colors, within a given radius along with an overhead 3d representation of the area. With a press of a button, both Carla and Jedd saw the map in their HUD. In the map was a bunch of blips - two blue ones which were traveling in a road which led to a green blip, it was obvious that if the green stayed stationary or moved towards the blues, they would cross paths. “Johnson squad along with a few Rangers should be going through this road in while. So you two meet up with them and put Bouviere in one of the Rangers and get him some medical attention. Everyone split up Bouviere’s gear and let’s get moving. Gamma-Sigma resistance is stiffening, we need all the men we have to take the City Hall so-” John’s statement was cut off as the unmistakable shriek of an incoming artillery round filled the air. Everybody ducked right before a big deli across the street was demolished. It was a rain of twisted metal and concrete partially melted into glass as the structure was reduced to ruins. The artillery guys were sloppy today, they must’ve drunk too much the other night, John thought as he stood up amidst the falling debris and continued. “That was one of ours. Let’s move!”
The squad moved swiftly through the streets. Everybody was alert, especially Baylor. He felt vulnerable crossing the empty streets, surrounded by empty buildings and was uneasy at the lack of cover. He was prepared to pounce at anything which could shield him from the expected rain of K-bolts. His sensors indicated that the area was empty and they did cover a considerable distance - five streets from the ditch - without incident, but John kept eyeing a bullet-riddled building surrounded by flames. Anyone hiding in the building would have had his body heat masked by the high temperature though the smoke was irrelevant for sensors could pierce it and the building was down wind. He was extremely suspicious and was about to switch into X-ray vision when explosions down the road caught his attention. He cautiously moved forward, walking by a destroyed Ranger. Rangers were one of the standard vehicles of the Marine Corps with six wheels and an automatic grenade launcher or an anti-material plasma cannon on top, a plasma cannon on the front passenger seat and on the rear side and a mortar located on the hood, inside it was ammunition and a Fang missile launcher which fired THOR (Tube launched Homing or Radio guided) missile. But this particular Ranger was nothing but a smoking heap of junk. The driver must’ve been very unlucky, because Rangers were very safe combat vehicles, killing one took a lot of luck. Suddenly an RPG rocketed from the flaming building. John swiftly hid behind the dead vehicle, as did his immediate companions. The others scampered behind dumpsters, concrete posts or into a building right beside them.
John realized what had happened and was about to yell orders, but before he could, the squad fired instantaneously at the building where the rocket came from. The squad’s firepower filled the building with holes, making it resemble Swiss cheese while several Bragulans immediately fell from the windows. K-bolts and laser pulses erupted from other windows while another RPG was launched. The rocket propelled grenade sailed through the air and blew up on the husk of the Ranger, but obviously, the Ranger’s armor was still intact as the RPG’s shaped explosive didn’t shear through the steel. The fact that John and his fellow marines weren’t blown to smithereens made him praised the Lord. He wasn’t religious, but when one faced with such experiences, one couldn’t help believing some divine power. John resumed firing at the building, shooting at the window where the rockets came from. A K-bolt exploded on the Ranger’s charred armor plating just a foot away from his helmeted head. With his free hand John opened a pouch in his utility belt, aiming to get a grenade when a B-NET poked out of another window and opened fire. He ducked behind the car and leaned against its underbelly as the powerful green bolts mauled the Ranger, creating small explosions and deafening noise.
It was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere and the situation would deteriorate very quickly. In time they would all be dead if no decisive action was to be taken and John would be damned if he let himself die horribly in some god forsaken shit hole like this. He wanted to rot in a retirement home, not to die honorably and painfully in a battlefield. “Someone get a fucking missile launcher and screw those shit heads! Please!”
“Sir, I have one but I’m pinned down,” replied Pvt. Steven Ling. A soldier beside him fired a grenade launcher at the Gamma-Sigma soldiers, turning a room into a smoking wreck and killing a handful of bears, but for that grenade, the Gamma-Sigma retaliated with two RPGs which exploded right on top of the Ranger.
“Shit!” John cursed. Then a flying chunk of sizzling metal scratched his visor, causing him to curse again. Then the cascade of bolts and laser beams intensified on the Ranger, tearing chunks which fell on the soldiers using the thing for cover. Baylor cursed once more.
“Fuck this!” he screamed right before an RPG glanced off of the Ranger and struck the ground just meters in front of him. A soldier beside him had shrapnel cut through the weak ankle armoring. John mentally screamed a string of profanity again as he pulled the pin off his grenade and blindly threw a fastball at the building. The building was filled with bears; the grenade had to kill something. There was a big explosion…on the opposite sidewalk. John ducked as a sweeping laser beam nearly decapitated him. “Fuck…never did like baseball.”
Someone screamed beside him, causing him to look over his shoulder to see a squad mate clutching a smoking hand. He looked down and saw the soldier’s two severed fingers. Gunships were supposed to be patrolling the area, giving air support to units in trouble, but there were no gunships as far as the eye could see. “Christ! Sonofabitch! Where is the air support? We’re dealing with an entire building full of these bastards! Someone radio the fucking air support”
“Will do, sir,” said Sgt. Joshua Cruise who was hiding in a small building which had one of its walls blasted open. Beside him and sending bursts of plasma bolts towards the enemy was Sgt. Timothy Gore, a tall, muscular and slightly chubby guy who totted an MG-60, a light anti-personnel phased plasma cannon. Joshua flipped open his wrist computer and dialed for the light carrier Iron Fist which orbited the planet.
“Hello,” said the female voice of the Iron Fist’s communication’s AI. Joshua would’ve been irritated at the cheery voice if a burnt Bragulan arm that landed right beside him didn’t distract him.
“Operator, we need air support!” he screamed at the AI. It was cheerful, it was oblivious to the miserable situation the squad was in, but Joshua was too busy eyeing the arm to be truly irritated. The Operator’s reply was blotted out by the noise of a nearby dumpster sizzling and burning thanks to a laser beam. The Operator probably wanted the coordinates of where the air support was to be directed so he gave the coordinates of the building containing the enemy. There was another explosion and a large fragment of an RPG’s case bounced off of his visor, jolting his face. “Ow, shit! And make it fast!”
“A gunship has been notified and you will be relieved shortly, have a nice day,” the ever pleasant artificial voice said.
“Yeah right,” Joshua sardonically mumbled to himself. He grabbed the severed Bragulan arm and tossed it away, he then activated his comm. link and spoke in a pleasant voice, imitating the AI’s annoying voice. “Sir, air support is coming. Have a nice day.”
“Not funny,” John replied, not appreciating the foul attempt at humor as a melting hubcap flew across the air, forcing him to duck. He knew how annoying talking to an AI could be in a combat situation. The B-NET ceased firing, obviously it was being reloaded, someone capitalized on this and threw a grenade into the gun’s position, killing those manning the cannon. John then poked his head out and fired at a window. Return fire came in the form of a K-bolt which hit him clipped him by the arm and pushed him down towards the ground. He fell and soon realized that he wasn’t dead. The bolt was stopped by the armor and the residue didn’t burn through the plasteel outer layer of the armor, but seeped into the hole made by the bolt. He desperately tried to wipe the sizzling gunk away and put some dirt on the hole to neutralize the residue. K-bolt residue could burn a hole through your body, it could leave disfiguring scars and would hurt like hell, John wanted the residue to stop before it reached his skin. And stop it did, the suit auto-sealed the hole and neutralized the acidic residue with a thick gel-like anti-penetration, shock absorbing, and heat redistributing (for anti-laser/plasma defense and IR camouflage) liquid (AKA ASH gel). John exhaled sharply as the hole was sealed, leaving a burn mark and acrid smoke.
The suit had a fluid delivery system to replenish the user and ward of dehydration. Since the suit was enclosed and removing the helmet would be too cumbersome during combat, the system was built into the suit. John bit on the straw and sipped the fluid - it was filled with nutrients and tasted like Iced Tea. John rested his head on the Ranger.
“Sir, you okay?” asked a fellow squad mate. John nodded his helmeted head as the fluids filled him with renewed vigor.
John then fired several measured shots. To his pleasure, all of the plasma bolts found their mark. A particular plasma bolt lanced through the thick neck and meager armoring of an enemy soldier who was aiming an RPG. The bolt severed the head with a steam explosion and vaporized the face of a helmet-less soldier behind the first one. John ducked back into the protection of the Ranger as quickly as he came up and noticed that his weapon was beeping, a signal that the magazine was empty. He pulled off the spent magazine and reloaded his weapon without looking, with the speed and efficiency of an experienced soldier.
“Cover me!” Private First Class Jerry Benjamin yelled as he slapped Sgt. Timothy’s shoulder pad. He was sick of the situation and wanted to do something about it, namely kill some bear bitches.
“Everyone, cover Jerry, fire on three,” the sergeant told the soldiers in their vicinity as the eager private loaded his grenade launcher and pumped one of the inch wide grenades into the launcher’s chamber. “Get ready, one…two…three!”
Timothy and the troopers unleashed a plasmatic hell while Jerry jumped on top a pile of debris and took aim. Adrenalin was coursing through his body as K-bolts and lasers were just inches away from hitting him. The immense barrage of blue hot plasma fire from the marines caught some of the Bragulans by surprise, tearing bodies into pieces. The other Gamma-Sigma soldiers quickly took cover, avoiding the fire of plasma as Jerry squeezed the trigger of his rifle. The young trooper’s aim was true and the grenade went straight into a window and exploded. A cloud of dust emerged from the window and all was still in that particular section of the building while elsewhere, K-bolts and lasers and all sorts of small arms and RPGs resumed firing as if nothing happened.
“Jerry, get down!” Joshua said, noticing an enemy soldier in the window. He lunged for his subordinate, attempting to push him away from the laser which sizzled through the air at light speed. Adrenalin and performance enhancing drugs were coursing through Joshua’s veins and causing his brain to go into overdrive, for that second the world was in slow motion and it was as if his body was swimming in molasses. He almost saw the beam inch towards Jerry.
It hit dead center of Jerry’s chest, catching him by surprise and causing him to drop to the floor. The beam penetrated the suit’s advanced armor’s first two layers, the first was composed of plasteel, an incredibly strong and durable and light plastic compound, and the second was the gel-like liquid. The beam was considerably weakened by the first two layers and the silksteel fibers weaved in between both (and all other) layers. The third layer of ceramic ablative armor took considerable damage but held firm, saving Jerry’s life and proving the superior technological quality of the USE’s equipment. Joshua dragged Jerry out of the line of fire as the rest of the marines covered them. He looked down at Jerry and checked his suit. “Jer, you alright?”
“Yeah,” the solder replied, breathing quickly through the de-con filter located on the face of the suit. He was in a daze; he looked down to his chest plate which was still smoking. There was an inch wide hole which was overflowing with the ASH gel. In moments the gel in and around the hole quickly solidified, patching it up. He touched his chest, feeling the heat through his gloves and realized how close to death he had come. “That was…close.”
“Don’t count your balls yet, we’re still stuck in this shit hole,” Joshua commented as an RPG flew right above his head, as if accenting his point. The projectile exploded in the other side of the building which they were using as cover, harming nobody but causing smoke and dust to cover them. “Jesus that WAS close. Whew! I could’ve lost my head.”
John saw what happened to Jerry and he quickly turned on his comm.-link to inquire what had happened. “Josh, what the fuck was that about? What is Jerry’s status?”
“He’s alive sir. Unharmed.”
“Great. Tell him he’s a stupid cunt, what he did was fucking dumb, and fucking brave too. I’ll recommend him for what he fucking did; he’ll be given a medal or something,” Jerry was a new kid, a rookie, a newbie. And what he did was brave, gutsy and deserving praise despite the fact that the kid obviously didn’t know what he was getting into. John respected courage and the fact that the kid was smart enough to ask for cover fire rather than just getting himself killed without even bothering to ask for protective fire.
“He’s a good kid, you know-“
“Yeah. Hold on, I’m getting something on the radio. Wait,” John, picking up a transmission. Hopefully it was air support, coming in to waste those mother fuckers.
“This is super six four, we’ve received orders from HQ to give assistance to Baylor squad. Something about a strafing run. We’ve been given the coordinates, I’ll send them over for you to verify. Over.” The pilot’s monotonous voice said. For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, John smiled and had the urge to yell something not profane. John looked at his wrist computer which was beeping, which signaled that the coordinates have been received. The coordinates were correct. John switched on his comm. link.
“Everyone, we’ve got air support! We’ve got air support!” he said and the mud stained, dust covered, blood soaked troopers yelled cheers. John quickly returned to his conversation with the pilot. “Super six four, this is Baylor, thank you Lord for coming. What took you so long? The coordinates you gave me are correct! So what are you waiting for? Blow those fuckers away! Go! Go! Go!!!”
“Roger that.” The pilot said. Near the horizon, John saw the aircraft; it was far away and its details were unnoticeable. John magnified the image by 15 times and saw the HG-59 Raven hover gunship in all its lethal glory. It resembled a 21st century attack helicopter except that it was more aerodynamic and had wings with thrusters instead of rotors and vectored thrust engines in its tail. Under its main wings, which bristled with armaments, were two smaller wings, one on each side, bristling with missiles. Its nose had sensors built into it and below it was a rotating dual barreled phased plasma cannon designed to tear light-medium armored vehicles into tiny chunks of steel. “Commencing strafing run.”
“Everybody take cover!” John hollered through the comm. link as the gunship descended upon them with lightning speed. The gunship locked onto the building filled with Gamma-Sigma soldiers and fired. A missile streaked down to earth like a meteor and penetrated the building, shattering the concrete walls like fine china. Once it was within the structure it exploded in a massive thunderclap. The top of the building was blasted off as a maelstrom of smoke, concrete, twisted steel and mangled bodies raged. Another missile came down to earth and the building was gutted, entire corridors and rooms instantly reduced to smoldering debris and heaping piles of pebbles. A microsecond after that came another missile, exploding at the heart of the structure, destroying it totally. Now the gunship was almost above the building (or what was left of it), the Raven slowed down from 800km/h to a mere 150km/h. It opened fire with its dual plasma cannons, showering the remains of the building with rapid and precise bursts. The bolts were all aimed at the movement of Gamma-Sigma soldiers crawling from the ruins, and at the precise body temperature of their living and half-living bodies – which were of course filtered by the advanced sensors from the high background temperature. The bright blue-white bolts cascaded onto the shattered and flattened building. Bragulans, alive or dead, on the surfaced or buried under tons of rock, were immediately torn into bloody and crispy shreds. There was no friendly fire in this incident, the distinct signals given off by the BS-300 suits of the marines told the computer where not to shoot and the guns were only aimed at the area where the building once stood. Any heat signature outside the given area would not be engaged, that was the marines’ job.
The gunship passed by the building and rotated so that the cockpit would face where the tail was at just a second ago, while still moving at 150km/h in the direction where it was going (so now it was going backwards at 150km/h). It stopped and began encircling the place, its cockpit and plasma cannons constantly facing the remains of the building, monitoring the area for any life signs. There were none. The entire building filled with at least 60 Bragulans was reduced into a smoking ruin sterilized of all life apart from the microbes and cockroaches. The gunship turned away and began flying towards the setting sun.
In front of the gunship was a Gamma-Sigma soldier, he dashed across the empty street and nearly made it to the other side. Nearly. The gunship’s sensors picked up the movement and heat and other life signs and quickly engaged, firing a four shot burst, transforming the soldier’s body into cinders and miscellaneous small body parts - all covered with molten slag which previously composed the soldier’s battle suit.
SOLDIERS OF THE SOVEREIGNTY
The Hammer Falls
Reference:
United Sovereignty of Earth (USE, US): A nation consisting of humans, the capital is in the human home world, Earth. It owns hundreds planets and is an interstellar superpower, perhaps the most powerful nation in existence.
United Sovereignty Marine Corps (USMC): They are the first to enter the battle field. They do not belong to the army; they are an independent fighting force. They are a force designed to rapidly attack and capture territory. They are the few, the proud.
Bragulans (nickname: Bears): Humanoid aliens from the planet Bragule, they are shorter than us due to the gravity of their planet. Because of the gravity they are also slightly more muscular than the average human. Their faces resemble that of the earth creatures known as bears. They have a keen sense of smell and are short sighted. They are renowned for the amount of damage their bodies can take. They have green blood.
Bragulan Star Empire (BSE): An empire consisting of innumerable planets. It is totalitarian in nature and is an interstellar superpower whose might contests the United Sovereignty of Earth.
Gamma-Sigma (GS): A faction of freedom fighters opposing the BSE regime, they are considered by many as terrorists. They are hostile to most nations.
Prologue:
Date: April 25, 2567
Location: United Sovereignty of Earth colony planet Daron
Situation: Captured by the Gamma-Sigma, a Bragulan terrorist militia, US Marines are sent to eliminate the militia presence and liberate the colony
Lt. John Baylor darted into an alleyway; his power armored body inches away from being riddled with sizzling holes and coated in acidic residue. The lieutenant was thinking about how the mission was proceeding. All was good, most of the civilians had been freed. The key personnel and the bulk of the Gamma-Sigma were concentrated in the City Hall. It was proceeding as planned, but resistance was stiffening and that would complicate things. He had reminded himself that all of this crap was going to end very soon. The Gamma-Sigma had already been cornered; it was just a matter of time. John lunged into the shabby rat infested alley, his thoughts interrupted by the hiss of a K-bolt passing just inches from his concealed face. He cursed himself for his lack of concentration and leaned against the concrete wall as the K-bolts, railgun slugs which transform into plasmatic and highly corrosive green energy bolts, struck and began smashing and melting away the concrete. This was not good.
He looked at the other side and saw an enemy soldier aiming a rocket propelled grenade at him. By reflex, John hugged the ground just as the rocket swooshed overhead and exploded at the spot where the soldier who was pursuing him was supposed to be standing on. If the soldier was fast, he would’ve ducked and lived, if not, too bad for him. But John didn’t bother thinking about that as he scanned the area for cover. Within a millisecond he swiftly rolled behind a brand new garbage bin while making some noise against the bin in the process. John saw the enemy tried to reload his cumbersome launcher. John knew that an RPG took some time to reload and he recalled that the soldier didn’t have any weapon aside from the launcher. He wasn’t certain of this but decided to take the chance, if the soldier had completed loading his RPG, he would be dead. If the soldier had a sidearm, he would also be dead.
John stood up and fired a quick burst of plasma from his MBR-40 which was the standard rifle for the USE’s armed forces (it had a bullpup configuration with an under slung grenade launcher, the rifle’s fuel could fire 80 plasma bolts though the number of bolts varied upon the yield). The blue-hot bolts of energy tore through the armor of the Gamma-Sigma soldier, burning through flesh and bone and causing organs and body fluids to blow up in a violent steam explosion. The bolts left violent exit marks on the carbon armor as the soldier’s limp and smoking body dropped dead.
“Prick,” he cursed the corpse with proud satisfaction. John relaxed and decided to call his team, knowing that he was lost. He activated his suit’s comm.-link and was about to speak to one of the squad’s men when the garbage bin was violently punctured by K-bolts. John remembered the first bear he was running away from and quickly fired a snap shot, putting a hole on the soldier’s mask and vaporizing his face. The soldier could’ve dodged a rocket, but dodging a bolt of superheated gas going at relativistic speeds was impossible, John knew that and now the prick knew it too. John turned his back on the smoking body and spoke, “Jedd, where are you guys?”
“Sir, we’re being pinned down in a ditch due south of you. You can see us with your HUD’s (heads up display) X-ray vision, right? Well, you can also see that an entire truckload of bears is pinning us down. We need help!”
“Ah, fuck!” John cursed, irritated by the impotency of his full screen HUD’s x-ray vision. While the x-ray vision was advanced and sensitive, it still had a limited range. His tactical map did locate their general location and the distant sound of gunfire could easily be heard. So John carefully but quickly sneaked through the messy alleys and passed by battered buildings heading for the truckload of bears that was pinning down the rest of his squad. The concrete ditch where the squad was taking cover in was being demolished by anti-material K-bolts from the B-NET cannons and RPGs. His men hadn’t much time, John knew that and he would be damned if he just sat back there and did nothing. John pumped his rifle’s grenade launcher and lurked in the shadows, crouching behind an enormous slab of concrete. His helmet’s HUD scanned the truck with its X-ray vision, searching for any vulnerable point. It confirmed a weak spot precisely where he thought it was. He smiled, knowing full well he owned the bears’ Bragulan asses. He squeezed the rifle’s trigger and the grenade went straight toward the fuel tank and exploded, sending the truck off the ground and turning it into a massive fireball which cooked its passengers alive. They died before the truck hit the ground.
“Never knew what hit ‘em,” John muttered. He scanned the area for surviving Gamma-Sigma soldiers. There were none. He jogged towards the ditch, his feet crunching concrete chips, glass shards, wood, burnt metal and whatnot. He slid into the ditch and looked at the men, who were partially buried by dirt, chunks of concrete and all other forms of debris. “Every one of you guys okay?” He stretched his neck out so he could see everyone and count all the heads. There were a few heads missing. Three of which belonged to the squad’s snipers, they were probably inside some building, shooting at scared squirming bears and raising all sorts of hell. The other one…was a short man whom he could’ve missed, but certainly the guy’s helmet’s antenna would’ve stuck out. John had a bad feeling about this.
“Bouviere lost an arm sir, he won’t be going anywhere,” reported Private First Class Carla Goodman interrupting the lieutenant’s train of thought. She was pointing to the short man lying on the ground; his right arm was replaced with a bloody stump which was covered with bandages soaked with a medical liquid. John relaxed a bit when he saw that his comrade hadn’t bit the dust. But obviously, he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
John shook his head. He thought hard for ways to save his soldier’s life and gazed at his HUD. He activated the tactical map and saw the locations of various units, represented as blips of various colors, within a given radius along with an overhead 3d representation of the area. With a press of a button, both Carla and Jedd saw the map in their HUD. In the map was a bunch of blips - two blue ones which were traveling in a road which led to a green blip, it was obvious that if the green stayed stationary or moved towards the blues, they would cross paths. “Johnson squad along with a few Rangers should be going through this road in while. So you two meet up with them and put Bouviere in one of the Rangers and get him some medical attention. Everyone split up Bouviere’s gear and let’s get moving. Gamma-Sigma resistance is stiffening, we need all the men we have to take the City Hall so-” John’s statement was cut off as the unmistakable shriek of an incoming artillery round filled the air. Everybody ducked right before a big deli across the street was demolished. It was a rain of twisted metal and concrete partially melted into glass as the structure was reduced to ruins. The artillery guys were sloppy today, they must’ve drunk too much the other night, John thought as he stood up amidst the falling debris and continued. “That was one of ours. Let’s move!”
The squad moved swiftly through the streets. Everybody was alert, especially Baylor. He felt vulnerable crossing the empty streets, surrounded by empty buildings and was uneasy at the lack of cover. He was prepared to pounce at anything which could shield him from the expected rain of K-bolts. His sensors indicated that the area was empty and they did cover a considerable distance - five streets from the ditch - without incident, but John kept eyeing a bullet-riddled building surrounded by flames. Anyone hiding in the building would have had his body heat masked by the high temperature though the smoke was irrelevant for sensors could pierce it and the building was down wind. He was extremely suspicious and was about to switch into X-ray vision when explosions down the road caught his attention. He cautiously moved forward, walking by a destroyed Ranger. Rangers were one of the standard vehicles of the Marine Corps with six wheels and an automatic grenade launcher or an anti-material plasma cannon on top, a plasma cannon on the front passenger seat and on the rear side and a mortar located on the hood, inside it was ammunition and a Fang missile launcher which fired THOR (Tube launched Homing or Radio guided) missile. But this particular Ranger was nothing but a smoking heap of junk. The driver must’ve been very unlucky, because Rangers were very safe combat vehicles, killing one took a lot of luck. Suddenly an RPG rocketed from the flaming building. John swiftly hid behind the dead vehicle, as did his immediate companions. The others scampered behind dumpsters, concrete posts or into a building right beside them.
John realized what had happened and was about to yell orders, but before he could, the squad fired instantaneously at the building where the rocket came from. The squad’s firepower filled the building with holes, making it resemble Swiss cheese while several Bragulans immediately fell from the windows. K-bolts and laser pulses erupted from other windows while another RPG was launched. The rocket propelled grenade sailed through the air and blew up on the husk of the Ranger, but obviously, the Ranger’s armor was still intact as the RPG’s shaped explosive didn’t shear through the steel. The fact that John and his fellow marines weren’t blown to smithereens made him praised the Lord. He wasn’t religious, but when one faced with such experiences, one couldn’t help believing some divine power. John resumed firing at the building, shooting at the window where the rockets came from. A K-bolt exploded on the Ranger’s charred armor plating just a foot away from his helmeted head. With his free hand John opened a pouch in his utility belt, aiming to get a grenade when a B-NET poked out of another window and opened fire. He ducked behind the car and leaned against its underbelly as the powerful green bolts mauled the Ranger, creating small explosions and deafening noise.
It was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere and the situation would deteriorate very quickly. In time they would all be dead if no decisive action was to be taken and John would be damned if he let himself die horribly in some god forsaken shit hole like this. He wanted to rot in a retirement home, not to die honorably and painfully in a battlefield. “Someone get a fucking missile launcher and screw those shit heads! Please!”
“Sir, I have one but I’m pinned down,” replied Pvt. Steven Ling. A soldier beside him fired a grenade launcher at the Gamma-Sigma soldiers, turning a room into a smoking wreck and killing a handful of bears, but for that grenade, the Gamma-Sigma retaliated with two RPGs which exploded right on top of the Ranger.
“Shit!” John cursed. Then a flying chunk of sizzling metal scratched his visor, causing him to curse again. Then the cascade of bolts and laser beams intensified on the Ranger, tearing chunks which fell on the soldiers using the thing for cover. Baylor cursed once more.
“Fuck this!” he screamed right before an RPG glanced off of the Ranger and struck the ground just meters in front of him. A soldier beside him had shrapnel cut through the weak ankle armoring. John mentally screamed a string of profanity again as he pulled the pin off his grenade and blindly threw a fastball at the building. The building was filled with bears; the grenade had to kill something. There was a big explosion…on the opposite sidewalk. John ducked as a sweeping laser beam nearly decapitated him. “Fuck…never did like baseball.”
Someone screamed beside him, causing him to look over his shoulder to see a squad mate clutching a smoking hand. He looked down and saw the soldier’s two severed fingers. Gunships were supposed to be patrolling the area, giving air support to units in trouble, but there were no gunships as far as the eye could see. “Christ! Sonofabitch! Where is the air support? We’re dealing with an entire building full of these bastards! Someone radio the fucking air support”
“Will do, sir,” said Sgt. Joshua Cruise who was hiding in a small building which had one of its walls blasted open. Beside him and sending bursts of plasma bolts towards the enemy was Sgt. Timothy Gore, a tall, muscular and slightly chubby guy who totted an MG-60, a light anti-personnel phased plasma cannon. Joshua flipped open his wrist computer and dialed for the light carrier Iron Fist which orbited the planet.
“Hello,” said the female voice of the Iron Fist’s communication’s AI. Joshua would’ve been irritated at the cheery voice if a burnt Bragulan arm that landed right beside him didn’t distract him.
“Operator, we need air support!” he screamed at the AI. It was cheerful, it was oblivious to the miserable situation the squad was in, but Joshua was too busy eyeing the arm to be truly irritated. The Operator’s reply was blotted out by the noise of a nearby dumpster sizzling and burning thanks to a laser beam. The Operator probably wanted the coordinates of where the air support was to be directed so he gave the coordinates of the building containing the enemy. There was another explosion and a large fragment of an RPG’s case bounced off of his visor, jolting his face. “Ow, shit! And make it fast!”
“A gunship has been notified and you will be relieved shortly, have a nice day,” the ever pleasant artificial voice said.
“Yeah right,” Joshua sardonically mumbled to himself. He grabbed the severed Bragulan arm and tossed it away, he then activated his comm. link and spoke in a pleasant voice, imitating the AI’s annoying voice. “Sir, air support is coming. Have a nice day.”
“Not funny,” John replied, not appreciating the foul attempt at humor as a melting hubcap flew across the air, forcing him to duck. He knew how annoying talking to an AI could be in a combat situation. The B-NET ceased firing, obviously it was being reloaded, someone capitalized on this and threw a grenade into the gun’s position, killing those manning the cannon. John then poked his head out and fired at a window. Return fire came in the form of a K-bolt which hit him clipped him by the arm and pushed him down towards the ground. He fell and soon realized that he wasn’t dead. The bolt was stopped by the armor and the residue didn’t burn through the plasteel outer layer of the armor, but seeped into the hole made by the bolt. He desperately tried to wipe the sizzling gunk away and put some dirt on the hole to neutralize the residue. K-bolt residue could burn a hole through your body, it could leave disfiguring scars and would hurt like hell, John wanted the residue to stop before it reached his skin. And stop it did, the suit auto-sealed the hole and neutralized the acidic residue with a thick gel-like anti-penetration, shock absorbing, and heat redistributing (for anti-laser/plasma defense and IR camouflage) liquid (AKA ASH gel). John exhaled sharply as the hole was sealed, leaving a burn mark and acrid smoke.
The suit had a fluid delivery system to replenish the user and ward of dehydration. Since the suit was enclosed and removing the helmet would be too cumbersome during combat, the system was built into the suit. John bit on the straw and sipped the fluid - it was filled with nutrients and tasted like Iced Tea. John rested his head on the Ranger.
“Sir, you okay?” asked a fellow squad mate. John nodded his helmeted head as the fluids filled him with renewed vigor.
John then fired several measured shots. To his pleasure, all of the plasma bolts found their mark. A particular plasma bolt lanced through the thick neck and meager armoring of an enemy soldier who was aiming an RPG. The bolt severed the head with a steam explosion and vaporized the face of a helmet-less soldier behind the first one. John ducked back into the protection of the Ranger as quickly as he came up and noticed that his weapon was beeping, a signal that the magazine was empty. He pulled off the spent magazine and reloaded his weapon without looking, with the speed and efficiency of an experienced soldier.
“Cover me!” Private First Class Jerry Benjamin yelled as he slapped Sgt. Timothy’s shoulder pad. He was sick of the situation and wanted to do something about it, namely kill some bear bitches.
“Everyone, cover Jerry, fire on three,” the sergeant told the soldiers in their vicinity as the eager private loaded his grenade launcher and pumped one of the inch wide grenades into the launcher’s chamber. “Get ready, one…two…three!”
Timothy and the troopers unleashed a plasmatic hell while Jerry jumped on top a pile of debris and took aim. Adrenalin was coursing through his body as K-bolts and lasers were just inches away from hitting him. The immense barrage of blue hot plasma fire from the marines caught some of the Bragulans by surprise, tearing bodies into pieces. The other Gamma-Sigma soldiers quickly took cover, avoiding the fire of plasma as Jerry squeezed the trigger of his rifle. The young trooper’s aim was true and the grenade went straight into a window and exploded. A cloud of dust emerged from the window and all was still in that particular section of the building while elsewhere, K-bolts and lasers and all sorts of small arms and RPGs resumed firing as if nothing happened.
“Jerry, get down!” Joshua said, noticing an enemy soldier in the window. He lunged for his subordinate, attempting to push him away from the laser which sizzled through the air at light speed. Adrenalin and performance enhancing drugs were coursing through Joshua’s veins and causing his brain to go into overdrive, for that second the world was in slow motion and it was as if his body was swimming in molasses. He almost saw the beam inch towards Jerry.
It hit dead center of Jerry’s chest, catching him by surprise and causing him to drop to the floor. The beam penetrated the suit’s advanced armor’s first two layers, the first was composed of plasteel, an incredibly strong and durable and light plastic compound, and the second was the gel-like liquid. The beam was considerably weakened by the first two layers and the silksteel fibers weaved in between both (and all other) layers. The third layer of ceramic ablative armor took considerable damage but held firm, saving Jerry’s life and proving the superior technological quality of the USE’s equipment. Joshua dragged Jerry out of the line of fire as the rest of the marines covered them. He looked down at Jerry and checked his suit. “Jer, you alright?”
“Yeah,” the solder replied, breathing quickly through the de-con filter located on the face of the suit. He was in a daze; he looked down to his chest plate which was still smoking. There was an inch wide hole which was overflowing with the ASH gel. In moments the gel in and around the hole quickly solidified, patching it up. He touched his chest, feeling the heat through his gloves and realized how close to death he had come. “That was…close.”
“Don’t count your balls yet, we’re still stuck in this shit hole,” Joshua commented as an RPG flew right above his head, as if accenting his point. The projectile exploded in the other side of the building which they were using as cover, harming nobody but causing smoke and dust to cover them. “Jesus that WAS close. Whew! I could’ve lost my head.”
John saw what happened to Jerry and he quickly turned on his comm.-link to inquire what had happened. “Josh, what the fuck was that about? What is Jerry’s status?”
“He’s alive sir. Unharmed.”
“Great. Tell him he’s a stupid cunt, what he did was fucking dumb, and fucking brave too. I’ll recommend him for what he fucking did; he’ll be given a medal or something,” Jerry was a new kid, a rookie, a newbie. And what he did was brave, gutsy and deserving praise despite the fact that the kid obviously didn’t know what he was getting into. John respected courage and the fact that the kid was smart enough to ask for cover fire rather than just getting himself killed without even bothering to ask for protective fire.
“He’s a good kid, you know-“
“Yeah. Hold on, I’m getting something on the radio. Wait,” John, picking up a transmission. Hopefully it was air support, coming in to waste those mother fuckers.
“This is super six four, we’ve received orders from HQ to give assistance to Baylor squad. Something about a strafing run. We’ve been given the coordinates, I’ll send them over for you to verify. Over.” The pilot’s monotonous voice said. For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, John smiled and had the urge to yell something not profane. John looked at his wrist computer which was beeping, which signaled that the coordinates have been received. The coordinates were correct. John switched on his comm. link.
“Everyone, we’ve got air support! We’ve got air support!” he said and the mud stained, dust covered, blood soaked troopers yelled cheers. John quickly returned to his conversation with the pilot. “Super six four, this is Baylor, thank you Lord for coming. What took you so long? The coordinates you gave me are correct! So what are you waiting for? Blow those fuckers away! Go! Go! Go!!!”
“Roger that.” The pilot said. Near the horizon, John saw the aircraft; it was far away and its details were unnoticeable. John magnified the image by 15 times and saw the HG-59 Raven hover gunship in all its lethal glory. It resembled a 21st century attack helicopter except that it was more aerodynamic and had wings with thrusters instead of rotors and vectored thrust engines in its tail. Under its main wings, which bristled with armaments, were two smaller wings, one on each side, bristling with missiles. Its nose had sensors built into it and below it was a rotating dual barreled phased plasma cannon designed to tear light-medium armored vehicles into tiny chunks of steel. “Commencing strafing run.”
“Everybody take cover!” John hollered through the comm. link as the gunship descended upon them with lightning speed. The gunship locked onto the building filled with Gamma-Sigma soldiers and fired. A missile streaked down to earth like a meteor and penetrated the building, shattering the concrete walls like fine china. Once it was within the structure it exploded in a massive thunderclap. The top of the building was blasted off as a maelstrom of smoke, concrete, twisted steel and mangled bodies raged. Another missile came down to earth and the building was gutted, entire corridors and rooms instantly reduced to smoldering debris and heaping piles of pebbles. A microsecond after that came another missile, exploding at the heart of the structure, destroying it totally. Now the gunship was almost above the building (or what was left of it), the Raven slowed down from 800km/h to a mere 150km/h. It opened fire with its dual plasma cannons, showering the remains of the building with rapid and precise bursts. The bolts were all aimed at the movement of Gamma-Sigma soldiers crawling from the ruins, and at the precise body temperature of their living and half-living bodies – which were of course filtered by the advanced sensors from the high background temperature. The bright blue-white bolts cascaded onto the shattered and flattened building. Bragulans, alive or dead, on the surfaced or buried under tons of rock, were immediately torn into bloody and crispy shreds. There was no friendly fire in this incident, the distinct signals given off by the BS-300 suits of the marines told the computer where not to shoot and the guns were only aimed at the area where the building once stood. Any heat signature outside the given area would not be engaged, that was the marines’ job.
The gunship passed by the building and rotated so that the cockpit would face where the tail was at just a second ago, while still moving at 150km/h in the direction where it was going (so now it was going backwards at 150km/h). It stopped and began encircling the place, its cockpit and plasma cannons constantly facing the remains of the building, monitoring the area for any life signs. There were none. The entire building filled with at least 60 Bragulans was reduced into a smoking ruin sterilized of all life apart from the microbes and cockroaches. The gunship turned away and began flying towards the setting sun.
In front of the gunship was a Gamma-Sigma soldier, he dashed across the empty street and nearly made it to the other side. Nearly. The gunship’s sensors picked up the movement and heat and other life signs and quickly engaged, firing a four shot burst, transforming the soldier’s body into cinders and miscellaneous small body parts - all covered with molten slag which previously composed the soldier’s battle suit.
Last edited by Shroom Man 777 on 2004-06-17 02:11pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Shroom Man 777
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Peregrin Toker
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(reads chapter)
WHOA! That's what i call an improvement! I particularly liked the "ending"... and this was just the prologue?
I'm sorry for the delay, but I'll now follow this eagerly. I promise.
BTW - I've noticed that Baylor's plasma rifle seemingly has exactly the same configuration as Xvarrol autocannons in my fic TWW. (bullpup w. underslung grenade launcher)
WHOA! That's what i call an improvement! I particularly liked the "ending"... and this was just the prologue?
I'm sorry for the delay, but I'll now follow this eagerly. I promise.
BTW - I've noticed that Baylor's plasma rifle seemingly has exactly the same configuration as Xvarrol autocannons in my fic TWW. (bullpup w. underslung grenade launcher)
"Hi there, would you like to have a cookie?"
"No, actually I would HATE to have a cookie, you vapid waste of inedible flesh!"
"No, actually I would HATE to have a cookie, you vapid waste of inedible flesh!"
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Shroom Man 777
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It's still the prologue, which still isn't over (which might change, since this ending seems quite good and any additions might ruin it). But I decided to post it since...you know. I wanted to get a review while the thing was still fresh, rather than like my old SOTS which was too developed, hence warranting a re-write.
Hey, your ideas seem to be getting copied everywhere From that 3d thinggy of FuzzyModem to my USMC rifle. But bullpups with underslung grenade launchers are just cool and I'm sure many people use that concepts for their own works. I'm just basing mine on the T2 rifles, the FN2000 and the carbines from the Aliens movies (the GL of mine is also pump actioned).
BTW, many thanks to Crazedwraith, your short comments made me think and made this great improvement possible!
EDIT:
Mmmm...do you think I should add more to the prologue or end it now and start chapter one?
Hey, your ideas seem to be getting copied everywhere
From that 3d thinggy of FuzzyModem to my USMC rifle. But bullpups with underslung grenade launchers are just cool and I'm sure many people use that concepts for their own works. I'm just basing mine on the T2 rifles, the FN2000 and the carbines from the Aliens movies (the GL of mine is also pump actioned). BTW, many thanks to Crazedwraith, your short comments made me think and made this great improvement possible!
EDIT:
Mmmm...do you think I should add more to the prologue or end it now and start chapter one?
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:d Your welcome. I think this version is much improved. Although John's men should take some causalties to make even better.BTW, many thanks to Crazedwraith, your short comments made me think and made this great improvement possible!
EDIT:
Mmmm...do you think I should add more to the prologue or end it now and start chapter one?
I think ending it now would work well.[/quote]
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Shroom Man 777
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SPOILERS:
I'm now in the process of continuing the prologue and I'd like to ask you people if this would be adequate:
Right after what happened, the soldiers go "yahoo" and sit down for a second and a sniper attacks. Panic ensues, a few soldiers die while the squad's snipers return to the squad (they previously prowled the city, killing people) and kill said sniper. Then the snipers report that the enemy has surrendered and close curtain.
END SPOILER
Anyway, I was wondering if this would be adequate since I've been thinking of killing off a few men as well.
I'm now in the process of continuing the prologue and I'd like to ask you people if this would be adequate:
Right after what happened, the soldiers go "yahoo" and sit down for a second and a sniper attacks. Panic ensues, a few soldiers die while the squad's snipers return to the squad (they previously prowled the city, killing people) and kill said sniper. Then the snipers report that the enemy has surrendered and close curtain.
END SPOILER
Anyway, I was wondering if this would be adequate since I've been thinking of killing off a few men as well.
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Peregrin Toker
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Seems more like coincidences to me.Shroom Man 777 wrote:Hey, your ideas seem to be getting copied everywhere
Which 3d thingy? I have no clue what you're talking about?From that 3d thinggy of FuzzyModem to my USMC rifle.
I can't think of much else than perhaps a bit more exposition to detail the setting... though that'd probably make it even more confusing.Mmmm...do you think I should add more to the prologue or end it now and start chapter one?
"Hi there, would you like to have a cookie?"
"No, actually I would HATE to have a cookie, you vapid waste of inedible flesh!"
"No, actually I would HATE to have a cookie, you vapid waste of inedible flesh!"
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Shroom Man 777
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So says the guy wearing the tin foil hatPeregrin Toker wrote:Seems more like coincidences to me.
Y'know, Modem's 3d starships. Or maybe it was 18's idea that got 'stolen' by Modem...meh.Which 3d thingy? I have no clue what you're talking about?
How about my suggestion?I can't think of much else than perhaps a bit more exposition to detail the setting... though that'd probably make it even more confusing.
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Some help you guys are! 
ONE:
He woke up in a haze and found his left cheek resting against something cold, hard and smooth. As he gained some semblance awareness and as his vision ceased to blur, he discovered that he was lying on an immaculate steel table. The room was dark and cold, making his dark skin shiver. He tried to move, but his feet and arms were restricted by thick metal clamps which were extremely tight. Trying to liberate himself from the clamps would be impossible, especially in his weakened state. He tried to assess his situation, but he soon found that thinking straight required much concentration. So he gave up and observed his surroundings. Above him was a light which illuminated him and a small area around him. The rest of the room was pitch black, or maybe it wasn’t and he just couldn’t discern his surroundings, he didn’t know and hadn’t the will to ponder. He felt a little dizzy, so he closed his eyes and rested on the table and again tried to think. The room was silent and the air was still. But then he felt something and heard something. He couldn’t tell what, his mind was too weak, so he tried to look around, stretching his tired neck to get a better view. This was definitely not good, he finally concluded as fear began motivating him, giving him strength and sharpening his mind.
He tried to speak, to ask if there was anyone there, but his open mouth failed to convey words, not that he was too afraid, he was still too dazed to articulate words. So he just scanned the area around him and found nothing. His head pounded, like a hangover, so he rested his head on the table and closed his eyes and tried to figure out where he was, where he had been and what he was doing here. His mind began clearing up and he remembered something about a forest and a small town, something important, something he was sent to oversee. He tried to delve deeper into his chaotic mind, but stopped after what seemed like minutes of fruitless contemplation. Instead of thinking, he would try to clear his mind, to end this horrible hangover. He opened his eyes and exhaled and was about to close his eyes when suddenly, an apparition appeared seemingly out of nowhere! His body jolted in surprise as a lean man with pale skin and black hair emerged from the shadows.
The man neared him, walking briskly and without concern. The man was dressed in a suit, black tie, black slacks, and a black jacket with an immaculate white polo shirt underneath. The man looked like a government man, how he knew, he didn’t know. Behind the man and in the background were two other men, nearly identical, except that they were slightly bigger and more muscled. The man spoke. “Mr. Jerald Sandoval, you are one of the United Federation of Profit-seeking Planet’s liaisons with the Bragulan militant group known as the Gamma-Sigma, you were captured in the planet Daron, a colony world of the United Sovereignty of Earth which the Gamma-Sigma took over for a brief period of time. You are here to be questioned about the UFPP’s confidential dealings with the Gamma-Sigma.”
Shit. Jerald finally figured out what was happening. He was in Daron, representing the UFPP, a conglomeration of giant companies and corporations which formed a sovereign nation. The UFPP was working with the Gamma-Sigma on classified things, secret things which should never ever be divulged, things which do not exist. Then the marines came, handed the Bragulan militants their incompetent asses and found him. He tried to pass as a human hostage, but his fancy thousand credit suit gave him away and that foul mouthed lieutenant noticed him. He tried to run but was shot by the lieutenant’s sidearm and now he was drugged and naked and on a dissecting table with a Central Earth Intelligence Department agent circling around him like a shark.
The agent let the realization sink into Jerald’s mind. Then he continued. “So, Mr. Sandoval, tell us what the UFPP was doing. Why was it cooperating with the Gamma-Sigma in an attack against a colony belonging to the Sovereignty? Does the UFPP have any more plans against the USE? Tell us everything and I promise you that you will be a free man, free to see your wife and your son.”
“Go to hell!” Jerald replied sharply. He wasn’t very religious though he got married to his wife in a Protestant church. But he started praying in the back of his mind, praying for strength and courage, praying for a painless death to prevent the inevitable. “I’ll never tell you anything, buster.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry that you chose the hard way,” said the agent as he grabbed some rubber gloves from his pockets. A drawer slid from the side of the table, there was a white thing in it and the agent grabbed it. It was an apron. In the drawer and under the apron were surgical tools, all wicked and sharp. The agent grabbed a silvery tool, its handle was thin and slightly curved and extending from the handle was a sadistic looking serrated hook designed to cut through flesh. The agent held the shiny thing in his hands for a while, letting Jerald see it and letting the man see what lay ahead for him. “I’m really sorry that little Jack will never see his daddy again. I’m sure Naomi would be heartbroken too.”
With that, he slowly placed the blade on Jerald’s flat stomach and moved the blade downwards, cutting through the skin and letting red blood ooze over Jerald’s dark skin. After making a straight cut, the agent continued the wound, this time going upwards, making the cut resemble a ‘V’ while making the blade go deeper, lettings its serrated edges shear through flesh. Jerald closed his eyes and thought of his wife and children but all thoughts ceased with one tremendous burst of pain as the agent eviscerated Jerald, suddenly and deliberately pushing the blade down hard so that it would slice open his belly and reveal his innards. Jerald, feeling every ounce of the pain, wailed in agony and opened his eyes wide open to look at the agent who was admiring his handiwork, as if he had just finished painting a canvas. He looked down, gazing at the bloody gash which bisected his navel and began muttering something indecipherable, an incoherent lamentation. The agent walked towards Jerald’s head and showed Jerald the crimson blade, the blood soaked surgical butchering tool. Jerald gagged in terror, fearing what the monster might do to his face. But the agent did nothing to his face, the agent briefly looked at his tool and shrugged, as if he just picked up a pen from the floor, and casually placed the tool on Jerald’s heaving chest. The agent leaned towards Jerald’s head and spoke to him as if he was a friend and was engaging in a conversation about something quite pleasant and funny. “You know, Jerald, if this happened to any normal man, he would be in shock, he might even have that dumb ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look. But you, you’re special, you’re system is coursing with several pints of drugs designed to keep you awake and make you feel every ounce of pain I dish out. Now come on, bud, tell me what I want to know. I don’t want to be outclassed by the telepaths, c’mon!”
Jerald wasn’t in shock; he was quite awake and now he was scared, very scared. No amount of prayers could save him now, God had abandoned him, he was forsaken and now he was going to hell. No, he realized that he was already in hell and the agent was his personal demon. It was just like in the Bible, they would keep you alive and keep on tormenting. But in this case, there wasn’t any brimstone to keep you warm, the air was cold and it hurt like hundreds of needles against every inch of your skin. Jerald was sure they had something to keep him from dying of hypothermia, or maybe this was what they wanted him to feel. Why was he even thinking of some cold air, he had his guts torn open.
“The silent treatment, huh?” the agent said in mock disappointment, as if Jerald was still sore at him for some trick he did during April First. “Well, in that case…” he trailed off and grabbed the wicked blade and sliced another gash at Jerald’s stomach, making the wound resemble an ‘N’. “Still won’t tell me?”
Somehow, Jerald snapped back to reality. Must be the drugs, he deduced as he heard the agent’s latest query. “You….monster…you…sick sonofabitch!”
“Why do you continue fighting, Mr. Sandoval? Why, Jerald? Why? You know you’ve got no chance if you continue this. You know you’ll just end up in a body bag if you keep on resisting. Why?” the agent said as he concentrated on the massive gash on Jerald’s belly where his hands were currently in. Jerald felt a sick sensation, he realized in horror that the agent’s gloved hands were sifting through his organs! His eyes seemed to have opened wider, if that were humanly possible, as the agent grabbed something with both hands. “Aha!” the agent said in triumph as he pulled out a part of Jerald’s bloody, creamy, snaky intestines.
Jerald saw this and screamed a blood curdling howl of terror as he thrashed his head and desperately attempted to move his body, it was like the last throes of a doomed insect as its limbs were severed. He screamed at the agent, he screamed at his intestines and his blood soaked stomach. He screamed as the agent began pulling out more of his intestines, screamed as the agent uncoiled them and looked at them with a smug look of a man proud of his work. Jerald stopped screaming and his head landed on the dissecting table with an audible thud. He gasped for air and began sobbing, sobbing like a widow on her husband’s funeral, except in this case, it was his own funeral.
“Please, Mr. Sandoval, Jerald, just tell me the UFPP’s plans. This doesn’t have to be like this, you won’t have to hurt anymore and this doesn’t have to continue. Please, tell me now. I promise I’ll stop,” the agent said with much sincerity and concern, like a loving parent or a best friend. Jerald continued sobbing, he wanted to believe the man, but he knew that they were all lies, uttered by a cold, heartless monster from the bowels of hell. He only wanted to go home, to see his wife and family, but he knew they would never see him again. God had chosen to send him straight to hell. “Jerald, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to suffer anymore and you don’t want your family to suffer. Please Jerald, tell me what I need to know. Tell me now and this will end.” The agent was compassionate and Jerald didn’t really have any choices left.
ONE:
He woke up in a haze and found his left cheek resting against something cold, hard and smooth. As he gained some semblance awareness and as his vision ceased to blur, he discovered that he was lying on an immaculate steel table. The room was dark and cold, making his dark skin shiver. He tried to move, but his feet and arms were restricted by thick metal clamps which were extremely tight. Trying to liberate himself from the clamps would be impossible, especially in his weakened state. He tried to assess his situation, but he soon found that thinking straight required much concentration. So he gave up and observed his surroundings. Above him was a light which illuminated him and a small area around him. The rest of the room was pitch black, or maybe it wasn’t and he just couldn’t discern his surroundings, he didn’t know and hadn’t the will to ponder. He felt a little dizzy, so he closed his eyes and rested on the table and again tried to think. The room was silent and the air was still. But then he felt something and heard something. He couldn’t tell what, his mind was too weak, so he tried to look around, stretching his tired neck to get a better view. This was definitely not good, he finally concluded as fear began motivating him, giving him strength and sharpening his mind.
He tried to speak, to ask if there was anyone there, but his open mouth failed to convey words, not that he was too afraid, he was still too dazed to articulate words. So he just scanned the area around him and found nothing. His head pounded, like a hangover, so he rested his head on the table and closed his eyes and tried to figure out where he was, where he had been and what he was doing here. His mind began clearing up and he remembered something about a forest and a small town, something important, something he was sent to oversee. He tried to delve deeper into his chaotic mind, but stopped after what seemed like minutes of fruitless contemplation. Instead of thinking, he would try to clear his mind, to end this horrible hangover. He opened his eyes and exhaled and was about to close his eyes when suddenly, an apparition appeared seemingly out of nowhere! His body jolted in surprise as a lean man with pale skin and black hair emerged from the shadows.
The man neared him, walking briskly and without concern. The man was dressed in a suit, black tie, black slacks, and a black jacket with an immaculate white polo shirt underneath. The man looked like a government man, how he knew, he didn’t know. Behind the man and in the background were two other men, nearly identical, except that they were slightly bigger and more muscled. The man spoke. “Mr. Jerald Sandoval, you are one of the United Federation of Profit-seeking Planet’s liaisons with the Bragulan militant group known as the Gamma-Sigma, you were captured in the planet Daron, a colony world of the United Sovereignty of Earth which the Gamma-Sigma took over for a brief period of time. You are here to be questioned about the UFPP’s confidential dealings with the Gamma-Sigma.”
Shit. Jerald finally figured out what was happening. He was in Daron, representing the UFPP, a conglomeration of giant companies and corporations which formed a sovereign nation. The UFPP was working with the Gamma-Sigma on classified things, secret things which should never ever be divulged, things which do not exist. Then the marines came, handed the Bragulan militants their incompetent asses and found him. He tried to pass as a human hostage, but his fancy thousand credit suit gave him away and that foul mouthed lieutenant noticed him. He tried to run but was shot by the lieutenant’s sidearm and now he was drugged and naked and on a dissecting table with a Central Earth Intelligence Department agent circling around him like a shark.
The agent let the realization sink into Jerald’s mind. Then he continued. “So, Mr. Sandoval, tell us what the UFPP was doing. Why was it cooperating with the Gamma-Sigma in an attack against a colony belonging to the Sovereignty? Does the UFPP have any more plans against the USE? Tell us everything and I promise you that you will be a free man, free to see your wife and your son.”
“Go to hell!” Jerald replied sharply. He wasn’t very religious though he got married to his wife in a Protestant church. But he started praying in the back of his mind, praying for strength and courage, praying for a painless death to prevent the inevitable. “I’ll never tell you anything, buster.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry that you chose the hard way,” said the agent as he grabbed some rubber gloves from his pockets. A drawer slid from the side of the table, there was a white thing in it and the agent grabbed it. It was an apron. In the drawer and under the apron were surgical tools, all wicked and sharp. The agent grabbed a silvery tool, its handle was thin and slightly curved and extending from the handle was a sadistic looking serrated hook designed to cut through flesh. The agent held the shiny thing in his hands for a while, letting Jerald see it and letting the man see what lay ahead for him. “I’m really sorry that little Jack will never see his daddy again. I’m sure Naomi would be heartbroken too.”
With that, he slowly placed the blade on Jerald’s flat stomach and moved the blade downwards, cutting through the skin and letting red blood ooze over Jerald’s dark skin. After making a straight cut, the agent continued the wound, this time going upwards, making the cut resemble a ‘V’ while making the blade go deeper, lettings its serrated edges shear through flesh. Jerald closed his eyes and thought of his wife and children but all thoughts ceased with one tremendous burst of pain as the agent eviscerated Jerald, suddenly and deliberately pushing the blade down hard so that it would slice open his belly and reveal his innards. Jerald, feeling every ounce of the pain, wailed in agony and opened his eyes wide open to look at the agent who was admiring his handiwork, as if he had just finished painting a canvas. He looked down, gazing at the bloody gash which bisected his navel and began muttering something indecipherable, an incoherent lamentation. The agent walked towards Jerald’s head and showed Jerald the crimson blade, the blood soaked surgical butchering tool. Jerald gagged in terror, fearing what the monster might do to his face. But the agent did nothing to his face, the agent briefly looked at his tool and shrugged, as if he just picked up a pen from the floor, and casually placed the tool on Jerald’s heaving chest. The agent leaned towards Jerald’s head and spoke to him as if he was a friend and was engaging in a conversation about something quite pleasant and funny. “You know, Jerald, if this happened to any normal man, he would be in shock, he might even have that dumb ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look. But you, you’re special, you’re system is coursing with several pints of drugs designed to keep you awake and make you feel every ounce of pain I dish out. Now come on, bud, tell me what I want to know. I don’t want to be outclassed by the telepaths, c’mon!”
Jerald wasn’t in shock; he was quite awake and now he was scared, very scared. No amount of prayers could save him now, God had abandoned him, he was forsaken and now he was going to hell. No, he realized that he was already in hell and the agent was his personal demon. It was just like in the Bible, they would keep you alive and keep on tormenting. But in this case, there wasn’t any brimstone to keep you warm, the air was cold and it hurt like hundreds of needles against every inch of your skin. Jerald was sure they had something to keep him from dying of hypothermia, or maybe this was what they wanted him to feel. Why was he even thinking of some cold air, he had his guts torn open.
“The silent treatment, huh?” the agent said in mock disappointment, as if Jerald was still sore at him for some trick he did during April First. “Well, in that case…” he trailed off and grabbed the wicked blade and sliced another gash at Jerald’s stomach, making the wound resemble an ‘N’. “Still won’t tell me?”
Somehow, Jerald snapped back to reality. Must be the drugs, he deduced as he heard the agent’s latest query. “You….monster…you…sick sonofabitch!”
“Why do you continue fighting, Mr. Sandoval? Why, Jerald? Why? You know you’ve got no chance if you continue this. You know you’ll just end up in a body bag if you keep on resisting. Why?” the agent said as he concentrated on the massive gash on Jerald’s belly where his hands were currently in. Jerald felt a sick sensation, he realized in horror that the agent’s gloved hands were sifting through his organs! His eyes seemed to have opened wider, if that were humanly possible, as the agent grabbed something with both hands. “Aha!” the agent said in triumph as he pulled out a part of Jerald’s bloody, creamy, snaky intestines.
Jerald saw this and screamed a blood curdling howl of terror as he thrashed his head and desperately attempted to move his body, it was like the last throes of a doomed insect as its limbs were severed. He screamed at the agent, he screamed at his intestines and his blood soaked stomach. He screamed as the agent began pulling out more of his intestines, screamed as the agent uncoiled them and looked at them with a smug look of a man proud of his work. Jerald stopped screaming and his head landed on the dissecting table with an audible thud. He gasped for air and began sobbing, sobbing like a widow on her husband’s funeral, except in this case, it was his own funeral.
“Please, Mr. Sandoval, Jerald, just tell me the UFPP’s plans. This doesn’t have to be like this, you won’t have to hurt anymore and this doesn’t have to continue. Please, tell me now. I promise I’ll stop,” the agent said with much sincerity and concern, like a loving parent or a best friend. Jerald continued sobbing, he wanted to believe the man, but he knew that they were all lies, uttered by a cold, heartless monster from the bowels of hell. He only wanted to go home, to see his wife and family, but he knew they would never see him again. God had chosen to send him straight to hell. “Jerald, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to suffer anymore and you don’t want your family to suffer. Please Jerald, tell me what I need to know. Tell me now and this will end.” The agent was compassionate and Jerald didn’t really have any choices left.
Last edited by Shroom Man 777 on 2004-06-17 02:03pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Shroom Man 777
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It reminds me of a torture scene from Orwell's 1984, but much more gory and sickening.
I like the way it adds an element of moral ambiguity to the USE as well as the way it serves to introduce Sandoval, so it's definately not redundant.
Also of note is the use of metaphors - I'd usually consider a comparison to Hell cliched, but here it actually works on the emotional plan.
I have several questions, which I suppose will be explained in later chapters:
1. How further will the character of Jerald Sandoval be developed? I think he has a lot of potential, and I hope he'll become a minor-but-significant character.
2. Is the USE a Communist state like the Bragulan Star Empire? If not, why did the UFPP secede from the USE and form their own state?
3. Does the UFPP have their own military? If so, will they join the conflict on Daron?
4. Does the UFPP supply the Gamma-Sigma with weapons or plan to? It seems like the Gamma-Sigma generally uses equipment also used by the Bragulan Star Empire? Why did the UFPP and Gamma-Sigma ally?
I like the way it adds an element of moral ambiguity to the USE as well as the way it serves to introduce Sandoval, so it's definately not redundant.
Also of note is the use of metaphors - I'd usually consider a comparison to Hell cliched, but here it actually works on the emotional plan.
I have several questions, which I suppose will be explained in later chapters:
1. How further will the character of Jerald Sandoval be developed? I think he has a lot of potential, and I hope he'll become a minor-but-significant character.
2. Is the USE a Communist state like the Bragulan Star Empire? If not, why did the UFPP secede from the USE and form their own state?
3. Does the UFPP have their own military? If so, will they join the conflict on Daron?
4. Does the UFPP supply the Gamma-Sigma with weapons or plan to? It seems like the Gamma-Sigma generally uses equipment also used by the Bragulan Star Empire? Why did the UFPP and Gamma-Sigma ally?
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Cool! I actually do make people sick with my work!Peregrin Toker wrote:It reminds me of a torture scene from Orwell's 1984, but much more gory and sickening.
I hate the black and white image of nations and that kind of stuff. I think there are greys in life and nations will never be good and will do whatever the fuck they want so long as it has enough benefits. Gritty and realistic. The USE is currently the most powerful thing in known space, it's not morally pure, but it's way better than the Bragulans or the militants and it has to do evil things to offset the greater evils. Like the USA and the USSR or terrorists. And yeah, I thought the way I introduced Sandoval was neat.I like the way it adds an element of moral ambiguity to the USE as well as the way it serves to introduce Sandoval, so it's definately not redundant.
Neat!Also of note is the use of metaphors - I'd usually consider a comparison to Hell cliched, but here it actually works on the emotional plan.
1. Well, Sandoval was really just a minor character who we see only one glimpse off but whose role is very significant and is quite vital, since he gives off the information necessary for the next parts of the story.I have several questions, which I suppose will be explained in later chapters:
1. How further will the character of Jerald Sandoval be developed? I think he has a lot of potential, and I hope he'll become a minor-but-significant character.
2. Is the USE a Communist state like the Bragulan Star Empire? If not, why did the UFPP secede from the USE and form their own state?
3. Does the UFPP have their own military? If so, will they join the conflict on Daron?
4. Does the UFPP supply the Gamma-Sigma with weapons or plan to? It seems like the Gamma-Sigma generally uses equipment also used by the Bragulan Star Empire? Why did the UFPP and Gamma-Sigma ally?
2. The USE is not communist, it's just like the USA. The UFPP never seceded from the USE, they're just a bunch of giant companies which grew so big and they merged to form one giant conglomerate which owns a bunch of planets and whose employees are like citizens. The UFPP owns its own private military.
Remember the Corporatism thread I had in SLAM months ago?
3. Daron's a done deal. The UFPP merely used the GS to do something which was necessary.
4. Well, yeah, the UFPP does supply the GS with weapons. I planned to put a part where the GS uses mecha provided by a Japanese company which is a member of the UFPP, but I decided not to since...I didn't really get a chance to write that in. So I'll have to demean mechs later on. The UFPP allied with the GS because...well, the UFPP wants to use the GS as tools and the GS wants guns and money.
And the UFPP is my parody of ST's UFP.
Speaking of ST, how the heck do I describe the Federation's ships with their odd saucer-body configuration? I need to know since the UFPP's ships will be a parody of the Federation's.
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Does this involve the USE launching raids on UFPP planets?Shroom Man 777 wrote:1. Well, Sandoval was really just a minor character who we see only one glimpse off but whose role is very significant and is quite vital, since he gives off the information necessary for the next parts of the story.
The UFPP formed before the USE?The UFPP never seceded from the USE, they're just a bunch of giant companies which grew so big and they merged to form one giant conglomerate which owns a bunch of planets and whose employees are like citizens. The UFPP owns its own private military.
Hmm... similar to my expectations of guerilla forces like the GS using whatever equipment they can get. (I think the Finnish army during WW2 used captured Russian equipment, for a historical parallel)4. Well, yeah, the UFPP does supply the GS with weapons. I planned to put a part where the GS uses mecha provided by a Japanese company which is a member of the UFPP, but I decided not to since...I didn't really get a chance to write that in. So I'll have to demean mechs later on. The UFPP allied with the GS because...well, the UFPP wants to use the GS as tools and the GS wants guns and money.
I thought they were based upon the Confederacy from AOTC.And the UFPP is my parody of ST's UFP.
I'd describe a typical Starfleet ship this way:Speaking of ST, how the heck do I describe the Federation's ships with their odd saucer-body configuration?
The main hull was elongated and narrow. On the top of its prow was a vertically mounted lens-shaped module, making the ship look vaguely spoon-like from above or below. if not for the parallelling nacelles attached to each side of the ship's aft section.
You're sure that's a good idea? Frankly, I'd rather make the UFPP ships more practical versions of the Starfleet ships, meaning (for example) that there wouldn't be these long narrow thingies connecting the various sections of the ships. The ships' structures will be much more unified if you understand what I mean. (A bit like the Steamrunner-class and Sabre-class from STFC or perhaps the Voyager) If you're going to ridicule the various design shortcomings of Starfleet vessels, I'm afraid SOTS will go to far into Spaceballs territory.I need to know since the UFPP's ships will be a parody of the Federation's.
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