Godforsaken Future - updated 10/31/2015

[guest]

Episode 19
 
 
 

“A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality. “
 -Winston Churchill
 
 
 
 
-3:28 PM June 9, 1987, 5 kilometers northwest of Shujabad, Punjab Province, Pakistan
 
 
 
 
 
“Come on!” shouted Nikolai as he hopped up from behind the cover of the large crater that he and the rest of the squad had been holed up in.  Aleksie, then Eduard, and shortly after the entire rest of the squad followed suit.  They sprinted about one hundred meters over to the burned out hulk of a T-72.
 
A warrior hopped up on top of the dead tank and appeared as if it was about to pounce on the men there, but almost all of them turned in near perfect unison and put the creature down with a hail of gunfire, its limbs shattered and its head burst in an explosion of black gore.
 
Then they turned their attention to the rest of the battlefield, three men went to one side of the tank and two to the other, unleashing short bursts of automatic weapons fire every other second.  The rest of them took to taking shots over the top of the burned out metal hulk.
 
Meanwhile Nikolai scanned the area, looking for their next spot to head to.  A couple seconds of looking and he managed to find another crater, this one was surrounded by a variety of human and tāziyāne body parts.  It looked like a pretty foreboding place to take shelter, but it’s not like they had much choice, they had to continue to fall back as quickly as possible or get overrun by the enemy.
 
The previous few months had been like that, and increasingly so.  After the line had been breached up near the border, the retreat started in earnest, yet it wasn’t until April that things had truly degenerated.  Where the tāziyāne had previously paused after gaining any kind of territory, seemingly consolidating their gains before moving on to take more, this time they seemed uninterested in doing anything but attacking as much as possible.
 
This had been disastrous for the armies here in Pakistan, they were never given the chance to set up new defenses further down.  Nikolai as well as plenty of others had held out hope that the tāziyāne would spread themselves out too thin and finally grind their own advance to a halt, yet that day had not come yet, and so the enemy had managed to push most of the way through Pakistan to India, and there seemed to be no sign of it stopping.
 
He checked his weapon “alright, everybody get ready!” he barked at his men.  He braced himself for the next sprint, as did the rest of the squad “now!” he shouted, and they were off, running flat out to the next spot.  Some moved a bit slower, firing from the hip at the oncoming monstrosities to try and keep them at bay.
 
They reached the crater and threw themselves into the bottom of it, water splashed on Nikolai’s face and he immediately became soaked.  His nostrils filled with the most foul stench, and it took him a second to realize that the nearly half-meter of liquid at the bottom of the crater wasn’t just water, but a nightmarish stew of bodily fluids and body parts, both human and alien in origin.  Unidentifiable red and black bits and pieces floated at the top of the pool of gore, meanwhile what looked like human entrails and a couple severed limbs lined the edge of the horrific puddle.  Immediately everyone in the squad scrambled to get out of the water, but also made every effort to avoid rising too far above the edge of the crater.
 
Someone shouted in alarm, Nikolai looked over to see what the cause was and he saw one of his men, an Indian named Eknath.  The man was pointing out toward another crater.  Several others were holed up in it, they were frantically trying to fight off increasing numbers of tāziyāne warriors and centaurs. 

Their position looked as though it was about to become overrun, but they were surrounded on all sides by the horde.  Worse yet was the fire beetle advancing on the other position, at the moment it appeared to be more interested in firing on positions further out by hurling fireballs overhead, but there was no mistaking where it was headed, and one did not have to be a genius to know what would happen when it got close enough to those poor men.
 
Nikolai thought quickly, he surveyed their surroundings, trying to find a solution.   Then his eyes settled upon a severed arm lying about a meter away from him.  In its hand was still clutched what looked like a small rucksack, however the three bright red plastic rings hanging off of it revealed what it truly was.  Although he hadn’t used one before he had seen them many times.  The Pakistani army had introduced a man portable satchel charge the month before, they weighed about ten kilograms and were packed with plastic explosives.
 
He reached over and pried the stiff dead fingers of the severed arm open, then quickly brushed something gruesome and red off of it.  He pulled out one of the plastic rings and put his arms through the straps so as to carry it easier, then got ready to start running “alright, Eduard and Eknath, follow me!  Aleksie, you’re in charge, take the rest of the squad and clear a path for those men to pull back-“ he ordered as he pointed toward the cut off group “then head for that-“ he pointed to a burned out shell of what used to be a house “building, we’ll meet up with you there!” he gripped his Kalashnikov and prepared himself to run.
 
Aleksie looked at him quizzically “what the fuck are you gonna do?!” he asked.
 
Nikolai gave him a small grin “something incredibly stupid!” he shouted back as he took aim at the nearest warrior and put it down with two short bursts.  He then hopped up and sprinted out towards the shattered hulk of an overturned truck, Eduard and Eknath followed right behind him.  They occasionally slowed to take aim at a nearby enemy and take it out.
 
Nikolai was almost gored by a nearby warrior, he quickly aimed his rifle and unloaded about a dozen bullets into the creature at near point blank range.  Hot brass flew out of his weapon in a blur, he turned and put down another one that had almost gotten to melee range on Eduard whose attention was turned in the other direction.  Eknath took out another one just ahead of them, it collapsed just as Nikolai reached it, he leaped over the body literally the instant it came to a rest on the ground in front of him.
 
He spotted another nearby warrior that was about to pounce, his rifle barked as an additional burst of gunfire left its barrel.  It clicked empty just as the monstrosity collapsed to the ground.  Without breaking stride, Nikolai ejected the spent magazine and slapped another fresh one home in a single fluid motion.  He didn’t even bring his weapon up to his shoulder before he fired at his next target, in stead he unleashed an extended burst of fire from the hip at the charging horror which sprayed a fountain of black gore into the air before them.
 
A screaming centaur had taken notice of them and it turned sharply to bear down upon them.  Not a word was spoken, but all three of them noticed the new threat immediately, their weapons spat forth a large torrent of death which tore into the large creature, shattering its armored carapace at such a short range.  It collapsed into a heap and died right there, sliding along the ground for an additional meter as it was carried by its own momentum.
 
Finally they reached the wrecked truck and slid to a halt, using the mass of the wreck to stop them rather than waste effort to slow themselves down.  A quick look behind them revealed a trail of dead tāziyāne bodies leading all the way to their previous hiding place.
 
Nikolai surveyed the area up ahead, the fire beetle was no more than fifteen or twenty meters away by now, it didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.  A second or two of further examination showed him what he was looking for.  As the other two men frantically took down one charging beast after another, Nikolai unslung the satchel charge from his back and pulled out the second ring with a sharp jerking motion.  Suddenly he felt himself being pulled down violently, Eduard shouted and a volley of spikes flew past and impacted in the ground all around them as well as the truck in front of them.  As the other man released him, they exchanged quick glances, an unspoken thanks expressed to the Pashtun.
 
Ejecting the partially empty magazine from his weapon, Nikolai replaced it with a full one “give me cover until I reach that ditch over there!” he said in a mix of Russian and Pashto as he pointed toward a ditch on the far side of the advancing fire beetle.  The other two men grunted in the affirmative, the ground shook gently as an artillery barrage exploded not too far away.  He slung his rifle over his shoulder and gripped the charge in his right hand, then he got ready to run “when I set this off, get your asses over to the meet up point!” he shouted while pointing to the ruined house he had indicated earlier.
 
Then he was off, he sprinted as fast as he could, a warrior turned to lash out at him, but was cut down by a sudden hail of bullets.  Most of the other beasts seemed to react slowly to his presence, perhaps even they were taken by surprise at this brazen act.
 
Another warrior didn’t seem too shocked and it attempted to skewer him with one of its scythes.  He ducked under the attack and then hopped over a freshly killed beast that had fallen in his path.  The fire beetle grew closer, Nikolai gripped the last ring and tugged, he started counting in his head ten, nine, eight, seven.  The distance to the massive creature seemed to be so far, and yet he was only a couple meters away.  A centaur also turned to attack him, it slashed out with a lunge at his midsection.
 
Nikolai took one last stride, tossed the satchel at the feet of the gargantuan monstrosity, then dropped to the ground, allowing his momentum to carry him further.  He felt a gentle rush of air as the creature’s deadly appendage flew by his face at a distance of mere centimeters.  He slid across the dusty ground directly under the massive charging beast and then came to a halt just past it.  Not wasting a second he rolled himself the rest of the way into the ditch which was less than a meter away.
 
A warrior was standing within arms reach and had turned to face him, it was about to pounce, it’s horrific howl almost deafening at this distance.  Nikolai placed his hands over his ears and curled up into a tight ball for protection, he shut his eyes tightly and cringed in anticipation.  Then the ground shook violently, and an even louder blast drowned out all other noises.  Nikolai felt a sudden burst of heat and the air blew by above the edge of the ditch.
 
He didn’t wait for the ringing in his ears to stop nor did he wait for the aching in his body to subside.  He opened his eyes and pulled his hands away from his ears.  Thick dust and smoke hung in the air, cutting down sharply on his visibility, the warrior that had once stood above him ready to pounce now lay on the ground, sprawled in a gory mass of broken limbs, it’s head was missing and several large holes leaked black blood onto the ground below.  He unslung his rifle and searched for any nearby assailants, but it looked like he was safe for the time being.
 
The fire beetle struggled on the ground before him, even that large blast was not enough to kill it, but it was clear that its right side had been crippled.  He quickly got his bearings and took two long strides out of the ditch.  The illusion of safety immediately came to an end as a warrior that was a scant couple meters away turned to attack him, he took aim and placed a well aimed group of shots directly in its midsection.  The creature fell down dead almost instantly.
 
His vision became far more clear as he exited the cloud of dust and smoke, the wrecked house was directly ahead, he could see the rest of his squad and the other men they had rescued falling back to the house, firing controlled bursts at various attacking creatures as they fell back.  The other men spotted him, and started to direct their fire towards the beasts in his immediate vicinity.
 
A quick glance to his right revealed that Eduard and Eknath were also heading towards the house, they were almost there.  The others were laying down a devastating barrage of fire to cover him, and many tāziyāne in his path died as he sprinted toward safety.  He dodged one attacking creature, then sidestepped a dying centaur, it’s black blood spraying on him as it fell to the ground.
 
The distance to the house shrunk, yet it felt as though it was taking an eternity to get there.  Each step brought him closer to safety, then he saw as the other two who had accompanied him made it there, he felt as though he could almost reach out and touch safety, he put everything he could into sprinting.
 
He barreled through the doorway to the ruined building, tripping and falling to a halt on the dirt floor inside.  Aleksie walked over and helped him back up “damn!  Has anyone ever told you that you are a maniac?!” he said as he looked down at his friend with a wide grin.
 
Nikolai couldn’t talk at first, he was too out of breath, finally he managed to speak “gotta die somehow, that seemed like just as good a way as any!”





-7:28 AM June 14, 1987, Park Rapids, Minnesota, United States




"Target, beetle right!" shouted corporal McAdams, electric motors wined as the tank turret turned to face the new threat.

Captain Mark Bannon squinted through his scope to see the advancing beast crest a hill, the vehicle jarred as they ran over some unidentified obstacle on the ground.  Even though turret came to aim at the creature the turret motors didn't stop whining as they struggled to keep their tank's main gun trained on the target while on the move.  Mark heard the clanking sound of a new round being shoved home and the breech of the gun sealing indicating that they were now ready to fire "fire!" he ordered.

The entire vehicle shook as the 130 mm main gun hurled an armored piercing shell at incredibly high velocity toward the new target.  A quick look through his scope revealed that the enemy creature had been wounded by the shot.  He had long since learned not to expect one of them to go down on the first shot, even with the new upgunned tanks they were using.

The sound of the gas turbine, electric turret motors, and metal clanking against metal mixed together as another round was loaded.  Private Pirelli indicated that they were ready to fire again, Mark gave another look out of his own scope to ensure that they were still on target, then "fire!" he ordered.  The tank shook, and an explosion erupted where the fire beetle had been.

The voice of lieutenant Johannsen crackled over the radio "Charlie Six, this is Charlie three, I see that you're having trouble putting that one down, would you like a hand sir? over" he asked.

Mark grinned "take your best shot Charlie Three" he said into his mic.  Normally he would have preferred to take out the target himself, but even with these bigger guns, they were still going through ammunition like crazy and his own supply was getting low. 

"Affirmative sir, engaging the target now" came the reply.  Mark heard a loud thud coming from outside as the tank immediately to their right let loose with a shot of its own.  The advancing monstrosity died a fiery explosion just as it had managed to unleash a shot of its own.

"This is Charlie Six! Enemy shot inbound, repeat, enemy shot inbound!" he shouted in warning to the rest of the company.  The arcing fireball came down shortly, impacting a fraction of a second later to the right.  A loud crackling could be heard over the radio, sounding like a mix of static and someone screaming, it cut out just as quickly as it has appeared.

Mark's heart skipped a beat, he was almost certain that they had lost someone with that one "this is Charlie Six, sound off!  Is everybody still there?"

The others replied back promptly except for Charlie Four, Lieutenant Herst came in over the radio "this is Charlie Two, I think they got Charlie Four" he said.

This was confirmed a couple seconds later when a flaming tank came into view on Marks scope from the right.  It merely sat there burning, suddenly the slow churning of the flames was interrupted by a large explosion as its ammunition cooked off.  Mark cursed under his breath, this had been the third tank they had lost this week, and the second so far today.

He didn't have time to dwell on that fact as three more fire beetles flanked by a swarm of warriors and centaurs crested the hill behind the flaming hulk of the recently fresh kill.  He waited for the next shot to be loaded and the next target to be selected.  He only hoped that these losses they were taking were buying the rest of the army the time they needed as they retreated.  Then he opened his mouth to give that same order yet again "fire!"





10:23 PM June 16, 1987, Needles, California, United States




Kelly sighed as she sat down on the musty old couch which she used as a bed now.  A white cotton sheet covered the cushions that she sat on, clashing with the ugly green and red plaid pattern of the rest of the piece of furniture.  She surveyed the rest of the garage that she now called home, a beat up cream colored refrigerator hummed quietly in the corner of the poorly lit garage.

This was hardly the most ideal place to be, but she was thankful for it nonetheless.  Bobby's parents were so nice in letting her stay there, and she was eternally grateful.  While they were not happy with her decision to enlist much like her own parents, at least they were letting her stay with them.

Her father's angry words still rang in her ears from nearly three weeks ago.  He had told her that he was not going to stand for his daughter throwing her life away on such a stupid decision.  Her mother sat there silently with tears in her eyes as father shouted at the top of his lungs, but Kelly had been steadfast in her conviction.  She didn't back down, when she said that she wouldn't try to get out of serving no matter what they said he told her to get out.

She remembered tearfully stuffing what belongings she could into her backpack, then giving Eric a hug, she left.  She felt scared that night, she didn't know what to do, she had never felt so alone before, but she had managed to make her way to Bobby's house and explained to them the situation.  His mom and dad seemed concerned about her choice, and tried to dissuade her from it, but they were understanding enough to let her stay in their garage.

She looked over at her backpack and snatched it up off of the floor from next to a stack of dusty old paint cans.  She unzipped it and pulled out her pajamas.  she started to get changed.

A knock at the door interrupted her as she unlaced her Nikes.  She looked at the door curiously for about a second then got up and walked over to it "who is it?" she asked through the closed door.

"It's me, can I come in?" came the muffled response from Bobby.

She pondered for about a second then reached down and turned the knob on the door.  She pulled it open partially and poked her head out to see Bobby standing there in front of the doorway "what's going on?  You know your parents would kill you if they knew you were out here right now" she said to him.

He looked at her nervously "yeah I know, could you let me in already?  I don't want them to see me" he half whispered.

She sighed and then opened the door the rest of the way "alright, come on in" she said.  He hurriedly walked in, she closed the door behind him "so what's so important?" she asked.

He looked nervously at the ground, then up at her.  He hesitated for about a half a second then stepped toward her and kissed her on the lips, she returned the attention so he's feeling a bit frisky eh? she thought.  They went over to the couch "why didn't you say you wanted to fool around earlier?  I could have freshened up a bit" she asked quizzically.

He glanced down at some spot on the couch "I just kinda got a bit nervous I guess, you're supposed to go away to boot camp in a few days and I started to miss you already" he said, his voice shook nervously.

Kelly put her arms around his shoulders "aww, that's so sweet!" she said with a sentimental smile and then moved in for another kiss.  They started kissing again, Bobby had gotten quite good at it, not like he had a shortage of practice now.  He started massaging her left breast, it surprised her, but she let it go.  Not like he had never done that before, it was just that he had never been so forward before.

A couple minutes of that however and his hands started wandering down toward her pants.  When he tried to unbutton her jeans she stopped immediately and grabbed his wrist, she pulled back from him slightly "what are you doing?" she said in an alarmed tone.

Bobby leaned in to kiss her again "what?  Do you really want to be a virgin when you ship off?" he asked. 

Kelly didn't like the way he said that "no Bobby!  I don't want to" she protested, but he leaned in to kiss her again.  She pushed against him, but he just grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer, he squeezed hard enough that it hurt.  She screamed, but he pressed his lips to hers in a forceful kiss.

Her heart raced, she was terrified, tears started to well up in her eyes.  She felt one of his hands reach down to unbutton her jeans again.  She thought quickly and realized that he was wearing sweat pants.  She managed to get her right hand free and reached down into his pants.  At first he tried to stop her, but then he let her reach her hand under his waistband, obviously he had assumed that she was having a change of heart.

After a quick search she managed to grab hold of his testicles, she grabbed them and yanked, hard.  Bobby cried out in pain "ow!  Let go!" he yelled.

"Get off of me" said Kelly in a forceful tone.  After he didn't comply for a second she squeezed and yanked harder.  That was enough, he yelped and released her other arm, cautiously getting up off of her.

She released him as she got off of the couch.  While she was worried that he might try to come after her again, he simply sat there nursing his sore testicles "you bastard!" she shouted at him "what the hell were you thinking?!"

Bobby stared back at her scornfully "what the hell is your problem?!  I just figured you wanted a good time, even if you are stupid enough to go get yourself killed out there in the marines.  Even your mom thought it was a good idea" he said angrily.

Kelly almost tripped over her own feet when she heard that "wait what?  What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded.

He leaned over the edge of the couch placing his head between his knees, he looked like he was about to vomit, probably from the pain good she thought "the other day, your mom.  She came to me and told me to try and have sex with you" he said through gritted teeth, he made a heaving noise, but nothing came up "said if you got pregnant that you couldn't serve in the military" he heaved again, this time the contents of his stomach came up and out of his mouth onto the garage floor.

She didn't know what to say, she just grabbed her bag and stuffed what few belongings she had into it, then headed for the door "I never want to see you again you fucking bastard!" she screamed at him as she ran out of the garage.






-6:48 PM June 17, 1987, Amazonas state border, Pará, Brazil




Sweat dripped down his brow, he wiped it with the back of his hand. Che swallowed that last bit of water from his canteen, secured the cap on it, and replaced it back on his belt. He gave his Mossberg a brief inspection, loaded two more rounds into it and pumped the hand grip. Finally he picked himself up from his resting place on the fallen tree trunk “alright, let's get going. We've only got about an hour before sunset and we're almost to Juruti, let's get moving” he said.

About two dozen people, some military, some civilian groaned and grumbled as they rose from their resting places. He looked over at a young corporal “Olivier, it's your turn to walk point” he ordered. The young man nodded to him but paused and tilted his head toward the sky as he heard the sound of helicopters flying by off in the distance. As it passed, the young man again returned his gaze to Che and nodded once again, then he turned and headed out eastward along the river.

The rest of them followed after, the civilians grouping toward the middle, and the soldiers lining the outside of the group. The past two months had been a depressing slog through the jungle following the destruction of Manaua. The group he was with now was merely a patchwork group of people who had banded together for survival as the aliens had overrun the city.

Any semblance of resistance had vanished once those gargantuan monstrosities had breached the line around the city. While they had heard plenty of evidence to suggest that the army was still putting up a fight, they had not even seen an officer in weeks, and they hadn't heard anything from a higher level of authority for even longer than that.

As they walked along the river, the forest had been eerily silent, no sounds of insects, or birds or any other animals. The only noise that accompanied them was that of the river flowing beside them. After about fifteen minutes of walking a horrific smell filled Che's nostrils followed soon after by the sound of flies buzzing perhaps even the bozorgs cannot keep the flies at bay he thought. Some of the civilians started to make alarmed noises up ahead, eventually as he approached, he saw what it was that hat upset them.

Down on the river bank lay the mutilated remains of some kind of animal, perhaps a cow, perhaps a goat, he didn't know, it had been far to heavily disfigured to identify anymore. It didn't take much to know what the cause of its death was. He was reminded of the time they had crossed the Amazon, back when there were a lot more of them. The frightening images were with him every time he closed his eyes, even after all that he had seen so far, that day in the river had managed to chill him to the core.

The first to go down was an old woman, she had fallen behind the rest of the group. Then others had started spotting something moving in the water and the screams had started. The river was shallow at that point, but it was still pretty deep, the shorter ones had been forced to swim and when they panicked they started flailing, and it slowed their progress.

Some of the screams had turned from those of terror to those of pain. The river started turning red and people started going down. The first he saw was a young soldier, probably no older than nineteen. He was Bolivian and Che didn't even know his name. He remembered the terrified look in the boy's face as he was dragged under the water, as he saw one of those horrible things wrap itself around his waist, slicing him open, spewing entrails and blood into the water. He wasn't the first, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. They were indiscriminate, just as the bozorgs were wont to do. Men, women, children; he'd seen them all go down into the water, seen them all eviscerated and gruesomely killed that day.

He had been surprised with how most of what he had seen so far hadn't bothered him as time went on, he didn't seem to have the nightmares that others had. However after that day in the river, his sleep was haunted by the screams and faces of those who died on the crossing of the Amazon. He wondered if he would ever get a good night's sleep ever again.

He hated the jungle, he hated the river. He hated it all, and he would probably die there, screaming and bleeding, just like everybody else he had seen.

After about an hour of walking, they came to the outskirts of the town. There weren't too many people there, in fact it seemed as if they were in a ghost town. A handful of people walked about the streets and stared at them silently.

A man in an Argentinian Army uniform approached them “I need to talk with whoever is in charge” he said in sharply accented Portuguese.

Che came forward “that would be me, I'm Sergeant Che Bruno, Brazilian army” he said.

The man saluted “it's good to see you sergeant, I'm Private Gomez with the Tenth Mechanized, our commanding officer would like to talk with you” he explained.

Che nodded “alright, show me the way” he said.

The Argentinians had brought what looked like a full mechanized brigade into the town, at the center of which they seemed to have parked a large grouping of VCTPs. The commander of the Brigade was a rather stout looking colonel who was getting down from his command vehicle when Che arrived. It looked like they had just pulled into town “Greetings sergeant, I'm Colonel Garcia” he said as he saluted to the approaching Che.

Che stood at attention and returned the salute “what is your unit sergeant?” asked the colonel.

“Well, I don't technically have a unit at present sir, I've kind of just got a group of people who don't have anywhere else to go, so I'm doing what I can to keep them alive as we try to make it out of the jungle.”

The colonel nodded and hummed in acknowledgment “that's commendable that you've managed to keep yourself and these people alive all this time, where are you coming from?” he inquired.

“Manaua sir, we're mostly survivors from that battle.”

The colonel nodded again “that was one hell of a battle sergeant” he simply said. Che didn't like the way he said that, almost like he was congratulating a child on getting good marks in school.

“May I ask what the plan is sir?”

“Certainly sergeant, we've been ordered to push into Amazonas to commence with offensive operations.”

So things aren't as bad as I thought Che thought as he surveyed the assembled forces “how long until the rest are here?” he asked hopefully.

“This is it, as soon as we've had a chance to refuel we're going to head on in. We're supposed to link up with some elements of the Bolivian Army just outside the city before retaking it.”

Che nearly goggled at the man he has got to be kidding, he sighed “begging your pardon sir, but how current are these orders?” he asked, he tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

The colonel eyed Che for a second “we received our orders by courier about a week and a half ago, we've been having trouble with our radios for the past few weeks” the colonel said plainly.

“Again, begging your pardon sir, but are you sure that's a good idea? I was at Manaua, you're going to need a lot more men than this. A lot more” he was starting to lose his patience.

Garcia got an annoyed look on his face “I've got my orders sergeant, and I intend to follow them. Now you're welcome to join us and leave the civilians here. We should have enough extra seats to accommodate you, but I will not be lectured by you on tactical doctrine” he said sharply.

Che silently guffawed “I don't know just who has been giving you your orders colonel-” he placed derogatory emphasis on the man's rank “-but, they don't know what the hell they are talking about. You think Manaua was a 'great battle?' Manaua is a fucking smoldering crater in the ground, we had hundreds of thousands of men in that city, and you want to try to retake it with a single brigade? You ha-”

He was cut off by the other man “I will not be lectured to by the likes of you sergeant, now I won't order you to come with us, but do not think to talk to me in this way, I-”

Che cut in again “there is nothing out there but dead people and millions of those monsters, you will die if you proceed with this!”

A young enlisted man walked up to the colonel and said something quietly to him, the colonel nodded “well it looks like we are ready to go, good day sergeant. Count your blessings that I don't have you shot for insubordination.”






-2:58 AM June 19, 1987, Camp Pendleton, California, United States





The bus came to a halt outside of some kind of large spanish colonial looking building. Kelly's stomach growled, she hadn't eaten in over a day and a half, she hadn't bathed in over three days, and she hadn't slept in the past twenty-four hours. The girl who sat next to her didn't talk to her much, Kelly didn't blame her. She knew that she didn't smell very good, the lack of available seating on the bus was probably the only reason why anyone was sitting next to her.

Soon the door to the bus opened and an imposing man in a uniform wearing that made him look like a
Canadian mounty. The look on his face told her that mentioning such a resemblance was not the best idea.

The man shouted and bellowed at them, herding them off of the bus and out onto the pavement, she tried not to let the shouting get to her, but it was quite jarring. A bunch of yellow footprints had been painted on the ground outside of the bus, and they had been ordered to stand on them at attention, rod straight with their hands at their sides.

They stood there silently as the bus pulled away, as she heard it drive away, she had a slight sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that's it, no turning back. Another man, similarly dressed as the first one approached the group “you are all here on the pathetic hopes that you will one day be able to claim membership in the greatest fighting force on this planet, the United States Marine Corps!” he shouted at them.

He paced about in front of the the assembled recruits “you are no longer girls or women, or individuals. You are Marine Corps recruits! The words 'I', 'me', and 'my' no longer exist. You will from this time forward only use the words 'this recruit', 'that recruit', or 'those recruits'. Is that understood?!”

There was no delay “sir, yes sir!” came the response.

“What the hell was that?! Give me a real response!”

“sir, YES SIR!”

“Pathetic, someone upstairs must really hate me! It'll be a wonder if there are even two here who will make it through to become real Marines!” The drill instructor proceeded to shout a combination of insults and instructions at them for the next few minutes. Surprisingly enough he used no profanity.

They were herded into a building where they were issued a large green rucksack and plenty of clothes and other items to fill it. Everywhere they went they ran, even though Kelly was in pretty good shape, she was having a hard time keeping up. Eventually were herded into a barber shop where all of her hair was cut to the point of almost being clean shaven. Although she had no doubt that the man with the sheers noticed the matted unkempt consistency of her hair, he didn't say anything.

Basic vocabulary changed, a door was now a hatch, the ground or the floor was now called a deck, and the bathroom was called the head. The shouting and berating continued throughout the day, she had never been subject to this kind of treatment before.

Sixteen hours after arriving they had been finally shown into their barracks, or “berths” as they were meant to be called. Kelly cried while she lay there in bed, at first she tried to hold it back, but when she heard others start crying too, she just let it out. She completely regretted having enlisted, she wanted to go home, to take back the past couple weeks and forget all about this place and the marines and everything. Her sobs didn't last however as her exhaustion took her off to sleep within mere minutes.

[StrikaAmaru]

we received our orders by courier about a week and a half ago

This is on June 14; Manaua fell on April 23; so there was a week and a half between that disaster and Colonel SoonDead receiving his orders. Even with couriers, that's an awfully long time. What I'm trying to figure out here, is whether the attack order was issued before or after the battle; on one hand, it's a very dumb order to be released after that disaster; on the other hand, a two-week delay is immense, lack of roads be damned; they could have done part of the road by air, and the rest by car/horse/bike/whatever.

Something else bugs me: when various authorities authorized the bands of scorched earth, why didn't they also planted landmines in them? Yes, it wouldn't kill the entirety of the horde, it might not even succeed in killing a warrior; but it would disable them, and every warrior that slumps down in the dead zone with its feet blown underneath it, is a warrior that won't come in inhabited zones, and which the blockading forces don't have to shoot.

The lack of landmines can't be justified by saying there are shortages of ammo and materials; the toolings are different, and they could just be bought from other countries. These countries, (as well as USA and European countries, come to think of it) should have stockpiles of landmines, as well.

[edited first paragraph; on closer inspection, it was dumb]

[Andehtron]

I was thinking about land mines also....

Also are we gonna see these things go full on aquatic? Plenty of biomass in the oceans.....And the mental Image of the USS Iowa firing her guns into the face of some bozorg sea beastie........I can't shake it....

Come to think of it Naval forces have been rather sidelined so far.

[StrikaAmaru]

Also are we gonna see these things go full on aquatic? Plenty of biomass in the oceans...

Only to cause havoc, if I get Scourge capabilities right.

From what I understood so far, Scourge needs its "nest" to actually convert biomass into new units. Yes, it could go into the ocean and kill everything that moves, but it has no way of getting that biomass to the nest; it wouldn't be able to use it. The killer eels we've seen so far were close to or within "their" territory, so a land unit would be able to pick up a corpse which washed up on the shore and take it home for processing. Establishing a new nest underwater is a risky proposition; firstly, nowadays we can detect teleports (so even if they want to, good luck scrounging enough time to establish the nest), secondly, a nest is not immune to pressure, so it's both bound by depth constraints, and vulnerable to depthcharges.

EDIT: I wonder if the slow path is a viable option... how long can these things go without "refueling"? No unit dissected so far had the ability to eat, so they all depend on their in-built batteries. If these batteries last long enough (and the Mind manages to think of this) it could send several units through some waterway, and try to establish a nest without using a teleportation.

Incidentally, guest: do the ground units breathe oxygen? That would both shoot my scenario, and open up some very interesting attack strategies... would it count as cherry tapping, if an army corps would take out a horde with CO2?

Come to think of it Naval forces have been rather sidelined so far.

All engagements so far happen very far from seas and oceans, or even large bodies of water. What was the Navy supposed to do? Their time might come, tho, considering the Amazon situation, and how close the infestation was to the river.

[guest]

Land mines have been used, although their depiction has been limited for a number of reasons:

1.)the Brazilians managed to set up a large amount of buried explosives outside manaua which they used to somewhat devastating effect, they just weren't prepared for those behemoths nor were they ready for the "attack attack attack" strategy of the bozorgs who are now panicked.

2.)The Americans were unable to set them up in the scorched earth region for obvious reasons

3.)In a lot of places the various human armies are just trying to get out of the way of the oncoming swarms, they don't have the time to set up minefields, particularly in pakistan where the human armies don't even have the time to get set up again before being forced to retreat.

4.)any usage of land mines would be relegated to the very beginning of a battle, after the first day or two they would have been exhausted and it's not like the bozorgs are going to be accomodating to allow the humans to run out to the battlefield to plant more. So unless a battle or seige is being depicted on the very first day you are not likely to see land mines.


Naval units are limited to a fire support role, I'm not sure if LA class attack submarines had cruise missile capabilities at that point though. However the most you would see is the occasional cruise missile or carrier launched fighter. However, don't discount the usage of sea going varieties once the "creep" reaches the ocean.

[Madzcat]

One of the things that kind of bothered me is none of these troops when they've dug trenches or have had trenches dug for them made dugouts. Which seems really dumb especially in the earlier battles where they've had more then a little time sitting in their trenches and they don't dig any dugouts to defend against air and arty attack. Sorry just a little nitpick of mine.

The Tomahawk was in service in 83 and all the LA boats could fire it horizontally, and there should be 3 or 4 VLS LAs right now.

[guest]

One of the things that kind of bothered me is none of these troops when they've dug trenches or have had trenches dug for them made dugouts. Which seems really dumb especially in the earlier battles where they've had more then a little time sitting in their trenches and they don't dig any dugouts to defend against air and arty attack. Sorry just a little nitpick of mine.

You know, I'm a big enough man to admit when I made a mistake, the dugouts was omitted in error, and you know something? I'm pretty sure that they were mentioned in stuart's story which i did read too, so I really don't have an excuse.

[StrikaAmaru]

I knew I had a nitpick to pick, guest, and I finally remembered what it was. In the Antarctic subplot, you use "Non-Euclidean geometry" to refer to the avoidance of parallel lines, and that's not what non-Euclidean means; non-parallel would have been just fine. I suppose you already know that, but it kinda bugs me...

[guest]

non-parallel lines are only one aspect of the geometry, I believe that I specifically mentioned that there were plenty of curved lines too(particularly with the tablets), the stairs at the city entrance just happened to be straight.

[Littlefoot]

Great story so far. One thing though, i'm not sure when the Corps started calling it this way, but I did boot at MCRD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot) San Diego. We only spent four weeks at Pendleton for rifle qual and field training, and the Crucible. Also, unless your chalking it up to altenate history, female recruits go to Parris Island SC.
I like how you mentioned that the receving DI didn't curse. That comes on Black Friday

[guest]

Great story so far. One thing though, i'm not sure when the Corps started calling it this way, but I did boot at MCRD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot) San Diego. We only spent four weeks at Pendleton for rifle qual and field training, and the Crucible. Also, unless your chalking it up to altenate history, female recruits go to Parris Island SC.
I like how you mentioned that the receving DI didn't curse. That comes on Black Friday

The change is a result of it being AH, the fact that women are being accepted in front line combat infantry positions resulted in the corps processing female recruits like male ones (east of miss. go to parris, west go to san diego). Also, I was given to understand that MCRD was part of camp pendleton. Although I guess I'll just chalk that up to the need for increased training capacity(gotta cover my ass somehow )

Actually, the no cursing line was a reference to Starship Troopers, it was specifically mentioned that DI Zim didn't curse except for "special circumstances" although from what I've managed to determine they don't use much profanity, at least during receiving.

Also, you'll also probably also notice a few other differences here and there, particularly the length of training which due to the manpower pinch has been accelerated. Not to the disastrous levels to which it was during WWII, but it has been shortened a bit, although the Marines still have the longest training period of all the service branches (they are still the marines after all ).

I'm not going to get too detailed about boot camp. That's definetly something that I'm not familiar with, and I fear that it would be too easy to really fuck up that part. Tis a shame my father turned out to be such a rotten bastard, I probably would know a bit more about it from him.


Thanks for the compliments though, greatly appreciated.

[StrikaAmaru]

non-parallel lines are only one aspect of the geometry, I believe that I specifically mentioned that there were plenty of curved lines too(particularly with the tablets), the stairs at the city entrance just happened to be straight.

As a rule of thumb: if the city in Antarctica can be modeled in SketchUp, it's Euclidean.

The qualification of a place as having Euclidean or non-Euclidean geometry goes well beyond parallelism and perpendicularity. Yes, looking at those is how you can determine which is which, but saying that a place has Non-Euclidean geometry is a statement about the fundamental structure of time-space itself; it wouldn't be a city with odd architecture, it would be a city where the local structure of the Universe has been somehow altered.

[EDIT] "somehow altered" without the application of large amounts of matter/energy to invalidate the approximation of Euclidean geometry, and show the real Riemannian structure of the Universe.

[guest]

second paragraph from the wilki article on "non-euclidian" geometry

The essential difference between Euclidean and non-Euclidean geometry is the nature of parallel lines. Euclid's fifth postulate, the parallel postulate, is equivalent to Playfair's postulate, which states that, within a two-dimensional plane, for any given line ℓ and a point A, which is not on ℓ, there is exactly one line through A that does not intersect ℓ. In hyperbolic geometry, by contrast, there are infinitely many lines through A not intersecting ℓ, while in elliptic geometry, any line through A intersects ℓ (see the entries on hyperbolic geometry, elliptic geometry, and absolute geometry for more information).

[guest]

News update folks.

A thousand apologies for not mentioning it ahead of time, but the story has been on hiatus for the past week due to other projects taking up my time. Not to worry, the next episode is partiually complete and will be up sometime next week. In the meantime, I thank you for your patience.

Best Regards,
guest

[guest]

And finally, another update after long waiting. Thank you for your patience.




Episode 20






“If you are going through hell, keep going.”
-Winston Churchill








2:17 PM June 21, 1987, Zabol, Sistan and Baluchistan, Iran






Private Navid Nouri marched through the street, three other soldiers walked beside him as they made their way down the roadway.  The sound of fighting could be heard quite clearly, its tenor had been increasing ever since they had entered the city, clearly fighting was getting more intense over the past two days after the tāziyāne had first crossed the border.  Of course this did not instill a great amount of confidence in him or any of his other fellow conscripts, he looked to his right at Dariush nervously, the other man returned the expression "do you think it's true that when they kill they take your soul too?" he asked.

Navid tried his best to put a humorous smile on his face "don't be silly Dariush, that's only the Iraqi's, my older brother served at Kut Al Amrar, he told me so himself" he said with a slight chuckle.

"I thought that was the Israelis who ate your soul" came a voice to his left, it was Alborz, he too had a nervous grin on his face,

Navid chuckled "no silly, the Israeli's steal the eyes of children in their sleep" he said sarcastically.  Almost as if on cue an Israeli Merkava rumbled by on the street next to them, it's commander stared down at them from his open cupola as a man would a couple of ants crawling about on the ground.  The four Iranian soldiers all looked at each other for a second and burst into laughter.

After walking for a couple more blocks, they spotted a group of five Iraqi Republican Guard standing around something that they could not see, their body language did not suggest something pleasant.  The Navid and his comrades broke rank and headed over toward the small congregation, once they had gotten closer, they realized that the Iraqis had gathered around what looked like a young Iranian boy, they were grumbling in Arabic.  Navid didn't know what they were saying, but it sounded pretty insulting.

One of the Iraqis in particular was harassing the young boy, he wore an sergeant's uniform "you are going to apologize for stepping on my boots you piece of shit!" he said in accented Persian, to which the young boy; no older than fifteen by the look of him, muttered what sounded like an apology, his gaze did not rise up from the ground.  The sergeant roughly grabbed the young man "what was that?  Speak up!" he shouted as he shoved the boy to the ground, the others laughed as he fell down.

With that Navid and the others rushed over the group, each grabbing the first Iraqi they reached "leave him alone!" he shouted as he attempted to wrestle his opponent to the ground.

At first it seemed as though their decision to intervene was going to work out, the Iraqis had clearly been surprised by the sudden attack, however it quickly became apparent that they hadn't thought their course of action through so well.  The Iraqis quickly got the upper hand, getting free from the four Iranians and pinning them to the pavement, the fact that there was one more of the Iraqi's than them didn't help either.  Navid felt a sharp pain in his cheekbone as his opponent struck him across the face with a closed fist.

It seemed as though things were going to get incredibly worse as he felt the Iraqi's boot slamming into his stomach a couple times, then suddenly the beating stopped.  Other sounds of struggling could be heard, the when he looked up, Navid saw that he and his comrades were no longer under attack.  Eight additional men in Iranian uniforms were standing over the now prone Iraqis.  Navid had also noticed that a rather large group of both Iraqis and Iranians had gathered around them, their faces wore expressions of anger, the Iranians far more than the Iraqis.

Even as he was still a bit disoriented from being pounded on, he could sense the tension building, and just as it looked as though the entire situation would collapse into a full blown riot, a loud gruff voice cut through the noise "what the SHIT is going on here?!?!" came the voice of a rather well build looking man who pushed his way into the center of the tightly packed group.

As Navid and his comrades were helped to their feet one of their rescuers turned to address the newcomer "sir, we saw these Iraqi devi- uh, these Iraqi soldiers beating on four helpless Iranians, we decided to intervene" he explained as he stood at attention, it took Navid a second to realize that the well built man was wearing a lieutenant's uniform, his expression was stern.  Suddenly Navid found himself also standing at attention as the officer's harsh gaze fell upon him.

The lieutenant looked over at the rest of the assembled men "the fight isn't here, it's  out there!" he shouted, then he said something equally stern in Arabic, most likely something similar for the benefit of the gathered Iraqis.  As a handful of other Republican Guard filtered in to help their fallen compatriots to their feet the tension seemed to dissipate "what are you waiting for?  Get your asses to where you need to be!" he barked at the crowd which started to dissipate as men from both sides headed off to wherever it was they were going before this distraction.

"Damned Iranian cowards, can't even stand up for themselves in a little tussle" said the Iraqi sergeant derisively.

The lieutenant fixed the sergeant with an icy stare which gave Navid a chill even as the hot summer sun beat down upon him "hear this you Iraqi son of a whore, if I ever hear of you so much as sneezing in the direction of an Iranian, you had better hope that the tāziyāne kill you before I do" he said coldly.

**

Yusuf watched as the callous sergeant diverted his stare to the ground, apparently even he had been intimidated by the imposing Iranian lieutenant.  Then he and the rest of his squad turned away from the scene, before that officer had a chance to direct his wrath at their own loitering.

"Did you see what those men did?  Don't do that" it was Sergeant Awad "don't forget that if not for those monsters out there, the Iranians and us would be killing each other right now" he said.

The rest of the squad grumbled in acknowledgment, Yusuf looked over at the sergeant "shouldn't we be more worried about the Jews?" he asked.

Sergeant Awad looked at him with an annoyed expression "don't be a damn fool, the Israeli's may not like us, and we may not like or trust them, but the Iranians hate us.  I know most of you were conscripted recently, but I fought the Iranians for three years before this mess in Afghanistan happened. All of that anti-zionist bullshit doesn't mean a fucking thing, politicians are politicians no matter what faith they have, and nothing will stop them from slitting their own grandmother's throat if it serves their purpose. Get that straight."






-3:54 PM June 25, 1987, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil






Clarice Jenner carefully surveyed the crowd outside the passenger terminal of Galeão International Airport.  A man who looked as though he was paying an excessive amount of attention to the parked car diverted his gaze to an approaching young woman who he quickly embraced joyfully.  After about a minute further of scanning the bustling groups, she decided that things were in fact safe, she rapped on the outside of the Towncar's rear passenger door.  It promptly opened and out came a rather cagey looking man in thick glasses who was followed soon after by a well built Mexican man who looked like a tourist to the untrained eye, but a quick glance at his observant stare showed that he was clearly scanning the crowd looking for threats.

The airport was exceptionally busy lately, especially after it had been revealed that the bozorgs had overrun Manaua. Panic had gripped much of the country, and the airports had seen a large uptick in flights as people were trying to escape from the oncoming alien menace before it undoubtedly consumed the whole country. 

Clarice turned and approached the rear of the vehicle, she pulled a key out of her pocket and inserted it into the lock, a firm twist of the key produced an audible metallic clicking noise, and the trunk popped open.  Pulling the key from the lock, she replaced it into her pocket, then reached in and pulled out a plain black leather suitcase as well as a large metal case which she put on the pavement as she slammed the trunk lid closed "be careful with that case, those are important samples" scolded the bespectacled man.

As she turned to pick up the two pieces of luggage she rolled her eyes "I'm sure that your bugs and plants will be just fine doctor" she said dismissively.

She then handed both cases to the annoyed man "they aren't just 'bugs and plants' they are valuable samples, this destructive war is destroying countless species in the Amazon.  One day these samples will prove crucial in rebuilding that shattered ecosystem" he said indignantly.

She nodded absently "alright doctor, your flight is in one hour, and Jorge here will ensure that you get to it on time and in once piece, okay?  So have a nice flight back" she said pleasantly.

The scientist gave her an annoyed expression, but he extended his hand "thank you for your protection" he said.

Clarice accepted the proffered hand "that's what you paid me for doctor, have a nice flight" she said and with that the two men headed off into the crowded airport.

**

A half hour later she was driving through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, and deftly maneuvering through the chaotic traffic.  Even with fuel rationing in effect in the country, at this time of day the traffic was still quite thick.  Then she proceeded to park her car a couple blocks from her apartment.

She made her way to the building at a leisurely pace, arriving about ten minutes later.  She walked up the front steps and opened the main door, there was a man standing at the other end of the hall by the stairway, he was dressed in a pair of khakis and wearing a short sleeved polo shirt with a pair of sunglasses and a pair of dark Raybands, a large black briefcase gripped firmly in one hand "when did you pick up smoking Roger?" she asked nonchalantly as she closed the door behind her.

Roger pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against "was I that obvious?" he asked as he walked towards her.

She gave him a sympathetic look "you didn't do too bad for a desk jockey Rog, but I spotted you standing outside the building when I made my first pass around the building, but your shadow must be really good, I didn't spot him at all." 

When they met there was a brief pause, then Roger dropped the briefcase on the floor and the two of them exchanged a quick embrace "it's good to see you again Claire, how have things been?" asked Roger.

After pulling back from the hug she looked at him "it's good to see you too Rog, now tell me what the hell you want?" her voice made a quick transition from warm and friendly to cold and suspicious.

Roger raised an eyebrow "whatever gave you the impression that I wanted something?" he asked, sounding innocent.

She rolled her eyes as she turned and headed down the hallway toward the stairwell "don't give me that shit Rog.  I know you didn't come all the way down from Pakistan or whatever hellhole they have you shipped off to now just to reminisce.  And before you tell me what it is, I'll have you know that I finished doing wet work for the Company five years ago, and you fucking know it" she said as she reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs.

She stopped there and turned to face him "are you coming up or not?" she asked impatiently.  Roger picked his briefcase up and followed after her.

Ten minutes later they were in her apartment, the door had just closed by the time they started kissing.  They pulled one article of clothing off after another as they made their way to the bedroom, barely pausing between kisses to pull off each others shirts.

By the time they were in the bedroom, they were both naked.  It had been a long time since they had been together, but they both remembered the right buttons to push, Roger was always good like that.  He was probably one of her favorite bedmates, and it'd been a while since she had had a good fuck, so she didn't hold back.

About an hour later they both lay there on the bead, both of them covered in a sheen of sweat, and both of their chests still heaved as they tried to catch their breath.  Although the heat and humidity of Rio in the summer was pretty oppressive, the ceiling fan over her bed provided a little relief, and besides, she was pretty damn satisfied after that.

"Jesus, I haven't had a fuck that good in a long time, I really missed you Rog" she said slightly out of breath.

Roger rolled over and ran his fingers over her arm in a gentle stroke "you were always so good at pillow talk Claire, always so lady like" he said sarcastically with an amused grin on his face.

She laughed at him "if you wanted someone more dainty, go fuck your wife" she said with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes at her as he got out of the bed, he walked over to the doorway and picked up his discarded pants, then started fishing around in his pocket.  A couple seconds later he produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  Placing one of the white cylinders in his mouth he ignited the lighter and held the flame up to the tip of the cigarette, puffing on it.  Successfully lighting the stick of tobacco and paper he pulled the lighter away and placed it on her dresser by the door, then he inhaled gently.

Roger took the cigarette out of his mouth and breathed out as he leaned against the side of the doorway "you never answered my question" she said.

Roger exhaled again, blowing out some light grey smoke "what do I want from you?  I figured that you got the answer to that question a few minutes ago" he said innocently.

Clarice smiled back at him "no Rog, my first question, when did you take up smoking?" she asked as she sat up in the bed.

"Sometime last year, right about the time that they transferred me to my new department head position at Langley."

She raised an eyebrow "department head?  Well, aren't we making headway.  I thought that you were gunning for a section chief position" she said.

He shook his head as he exhaled more smoke "well, this is something different altogether, bigger too.  How are things going babysitting scientists out here in the sticks?" he replied to her.

She gave him an annoyed look "it's not so bad, although not nearly as exciting as secreting people across the Berlin Wall, the worst I run into is the occasional would-be mugger or pickpocket.  Of course ever since NATO and WARPAC started making nice, work is a bit harder to come buy for people like you and me" she said.

"Now to my second question, what the hell brought you all the way down from Langley?  And remember, I'm done with wet work."

Roger put his hands up in a defensive gesture "alright alright, I'm here to ask for something, but don't worry, I'm not really here on official business" he said as he put his cigarette back in his mouth and stepped away from the doorway.  He walked out of the room and a minute later he reappeared in the room with his briefcase.

He carried it over to the bed and placed it on the floor, then sat down next to her "well, first I'll assure you that you didn't miss my shadow, I'm down here on my own.  I need you to run an op for me as a personal favor, not for the Company" he said.

Clarice raised an eyebrow, he nodded to her as if to say yes I'm serious.  Looking her square in the eye he started to speak "listen, I came down here because I needed someone who isn't currently with the Company or any other agency for that matter.  I also needed someone that I can trust" he explained.

She was silent for a second, that had really surprised her.  This was the closest either of them had come to any real personal intimacy.  Sure, they had slept together plenty of times, but it had always been casual, they had always kept it as platonic as fucking could be.  For him to say that he trusted her, and to say it in that way really was a big step.

She worried that maybe the next thing he would say was that he loved her, but he didn't, he just looked at her, a concerned expression on his face, but no other hint of what she feared.  She took a deep breath, then "okay, what's the situation?" she asked.

He took a final toke from his cigarette and then turned to put it out in the ashtray on the night stand.  Then he turned back to face her "well, my department at Langley was formed after those creatures first showed up in Afghanistan, I more or less became the administration's point man with the Pakistanis after the ISI pulled their coup.  So when somebody got the bright idea to start a think tank dealing with the bozorgs I was the guy at the top of the short list to run the damned thing.  Anyway, when one of my guys came asking me to look up a friend of his who he thought that somebody at DoD or maybe No Such Agency had tapped, I thought it would be a simple task of tracking him down, especially since my new position at the company gives me pretty much unfettered access to just about anything I need to."

"That was not to be the case, though I didn't get suspicious about it until I found out that none of my contacts at the other agencies knew anything about this guy.  After a little digging I found out that he was supposedly drafted by one of the DoD programs that my own department had co-opted, and that's when the alarms started going off in my head.  From what I can tell I should be able to easily gain access to what this guy is doing and where he is.  Yet as far as I can tell, I got a record which states that someone from DoD tapped him for something just over a year ago, and then nothing further.  Almost like he dropped off the face of the planet."

"Now, both you and I know that even the Company can't make someone disappear like that, even if they offed him there would be paperwork somewhere with the authorization for the hit, but it's just not there.  And if that wasn't suspicious enough, things took a real turn for the alarming when I started getting the runaround from people who should be trustworthy.  I'm still trying to put some of the pieces together, but from what I can tell, someone or multiple someones in very high places is throwing a smoke screen up around... something."

"And that's not all of it either, I found several programs that are completely off the books, all that exists are names.  I'm not just talking about the regular black stuff either, I'm talking about programs that are hidden even within the Company."

He reached down and picked up a briefcase, he placed it on his lap and opened it up.  Reaching inside, he pulled out a moderately thick folder "this is a collection of what little I have so far, there are a couple shell companies and a handful of numbered Caiman Islands accounts" he said as he handed her the folder.

She opened it and browsed through it "maybe this is just some compartmentalized op, maybe just a couple rogue agents operating on their own?" she said a bit perplexed.

Roger shook his head "this looks far too big and far too deep to be anything that simple, whoever these guys are, they've got the funding and the influence that only someone with really high level access has, this might go all the way to the administration" he explained.

"Yeah, well so did The Plumbers, what's the big deal?"

Roger put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye "Claire, The Plumbers left a bigger paper trail than these guys, I'm serious, this is really deep shit" his expression was deadly serious.

She nodded "okay, what do you need from me then?" she asked.

"Well, I need you to go digging around, find out where the money is and see if you can trace any of the handful of people I've sniffed out to whatever it is they are working on.  I could probably do most of this stuff myself, but I'm still with the Company, it would probably be too easy for them to figure out that I was snooping around.  However, you're a free agent now, you're a bit further under the radar, as long as you are careful you should be able to avoid being flushed out."

She sucked in a big lungful of air, then slowly let it out "okay Rog, sounds good, I'm guessing that this isn't a paying gig, but seeing as you're such a good fuck, we'll call it even" she gave a little chuckle.

Roger was still serious "be careful Claire, I don't know how deep this goes, and these guys are big players whoever they are.  Don't get too cocky" he had a very concerned expression on his face.

She smiled at him confidently "aww, you're such a sweetie Rog, all concerned over little ole me?  I'm touched, I really am, but I'm a big girl, I can handle myself.  Now enough of this spookhouse shit, I'm hungry."





-6:23 AM July 3, 1987, Camp Pendleton, California, United States




"GET THOSE LAZY WORTHLESS ASSES OVER THAT BULKHEAD!!!" screamed DI Florez at the ragged looking group of recruits as they scaled the wooden barricade.  Kelly remembered being surprised at the sudden introduction of profanity by the drill instructors a couple days ago on 'Black Friday' it had not been a pleasant surprise.

She threw herself into the bulkhead and wrapped her hands around the rope, it was wet and dirty from the previous recruits who had already used it.  She glanced over to her right to see that 'Ditty' was keeping pace with her.

Ditty who was also known as Lisa Ditkins, was the very first of her fellow recruits to start talking to her.  She seemed to be a bit more easy going than the others, and in spite of Kelly being somewhat uncommunicative at first, she persevered in trying to talk to her.  The result was after a week and a half into the training the two were becoming fast friends.

Kelly gripped the rope- line she corrected herself.  Then she placed her feet against the bulkhead and started to scale it 'walking' up it as much as she climbed.  She did quite well compared to most of the other recruits at that stage, and after only losing her footing once she managed to reach the top in about twenty or thirty seconds' time.  Ditty was right behind her.

Kelly threw her legs over the top and leaped down onto the ground, she landed pretty well, but Ditty didn't, she stumbled and fell to the ground.  Kelly turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders to help her to her feet, once she was upright, Ditty turned and gave her a look of thanks.  This however delayed them, DI Florez would not have that "STOP EYE FUCKING EACH OTHER AND GET A MOVE ON!" she bellowed at them.

Kelly and Ditty sprinted off to the next part of the obstacle course, which consisted of a bunch of barbed wire strung up over a pit full of mud, the thunderous sound of a machine gun pounded on their eardrums from the left.  Another drill instructor sat behind a mounted M60 firing off regular bursts of fire.  They had been told that only one in every hundred rounds were actually live, and while some of the recruits were skeptical, nobody wanted to test that theory.

Ditty and Kelly quickly dropped down to the ground and started to crawl into the pit as they saw the recruits ahead of them already slithering through it.  As they reached the edge, they lowered themselves in as fast as they could.  The first time they had gone through the obstacle course, some of them had hesitated before crawling into the disgusting mud, but after seeing them get chewed out by the DI's and then having every recruit go through the course five extra times as a punishment for the errors of just a few, nobody dared make the same mistake again.

In spite of the summer heat in the southern California sun, the cold mud was not a pleasant experience, but Kelly did her best to ignore it as she slithered through the pit on her belly.  She'd also learned not to try and lift herself up even an inch from the bottom when she was crawling through it.

The reasoning for this was made apparent when the recruit ahead of her had gotten snagged on the barbed wire, she was clearly starting to panic.  Kelly reached the other recruit and grabbed her by the ankle "stop wiggling around so goddamn much okay!?" she shouted over the thunderous machine gun fire.  After about a minute or two she had managed to free the other recruit and they proceeded along through the mud and out of that section.

A few minutes later they reached the last part of the course which consisted of a twenty five foot line connected to a pair of raised parallel railroad ties from which hung a large cargo net that led back to the ground.  Kelly and Ditty both attacked the last part with a combination of desperation and excitement at the prospect of ending the torment of the cursed obstacle course.

Using their feet to grab hold of the line as they were taught, they scaled it at a decent pace, reaching the top at a rate that had pleasantly surprised Kelly.  Then she placed her feet up against the bottom tie for support and then grabbed the two protruding handholds attached to the top one.  Finally using all the muscles in her body, she pulled herself up onto the top of the final obstacle and swung over to the other side, and climbed down the cargo net onto the ground.

Ten minutes after that Kelly and the other recruits all stood at attention in front of the course.  DI Florez walked in front of them, examining the line of mud encrusted and fatigued women "now THAT was an improvement, I'd almost say that may actually qualify as not a total FUCKUP!!!.  I'm especially impressed with recruit Vasquez who assisted Recruit Foote who had been caught on barbed wire" she said in a tone that was less hostile than previously heard.  Kelly almost beamed with pride as she received the compliment.

The DI stopped and turned at a point further down the line "unfortunately Recruit Johannsen was not so considerate and proceeded on without lending assistance" she looked over the entire platoon "therefore to foster better teamwork, we're going to run the obstacle course ALL OVER AGAIN!!!" Kelly's heart sank, and several other recruits let out sighs or grunts in frustration "WELL NOW, BEING THAT THE IDEA IS SO POPULAR,  I SUPPOSE THAT WE SHOULD RUN THE COURSE TWICE THEN!  HOW DOES THAT SOUND!?" she shouted at them.

"SIR, THAT'S WONDERFUL SIR!!!"
 
 
 
 
 
 
-4:26 PM July 8, 1987, somewhere over southern France
 
 
 
 
Colonel Jean Primeau glanced at his airspeed indicator and saw that they were cruising at a comfortable Mach 0.8.  He then glanced at his map and determined that the time was quickly arriving for their final approach “alright, everyone get ready to make your final turn” he commanded and twenty-three other voices returned with affirmative responses.
 
One minute later theY executed the maneuver and all twenty-four of the squadron’s Mirage F1s were headed toward their final destination.  Five minutes after that the first enemy contacts started appearing on their radar scopes “we have enemy contact everyone, lock onto a target and prepare to fire, keep the range as open as possible.  Anyone that gets close enough to use their guns will be using my boot as a suppository for the next week” he said, the rest of the squadron acknowledged.
 
They waited briefly as the first of the dragonflies ascended and more followed after them.  This took a total of about twenty seconds, once Jean was satisfied he gave the order “all pilots, open fire I repeat, open fire, fox one!” he commanded.
 
“Fox one!” came the response from the rest of the squadron in unison. Twenty-four Super 530 missiles streaked out from the squadron, white contrails marking their paths.  Without waiting to see the result of the salvo Jean selected another target “lock on to a new target and prepare to fire” he ordered.  Within seconds the entire squadron replied that they were ready “fox one” he announced again, and again another twenty four missiles leaped out from under their wings.
 
Just as the second salvo had entered his vision, the first salvo had reached its destination, bright yellow explosions blossomed amongst the distant cloud of oncoming alien entities, and large holes had been blown in their ranks.  Reading his scope, he saw that the distance had quickly dropped to under 12 kilometers “everyone switch to sidewinders and fire at will, once you have expended your munitions, bug out as fast as you can” he ordered.
 
By this point he had another target locked “fox two!” he announced and out sprang an AIM-9 Sidewinder from his wingtip.  The squadron band was speckled with other announcements of missile launches from the other pilots.  White contrails crisscrossed in the air between the planes and the oncoming tide of flying creatures.
 
Quickly Jean searched for another target while the seconds and range ticked down at what felt like a lightning pace.  Finally after what felt like an eternity, he heard the tone indicating a lock on “fox two” he said over the radio and his second Sidewinder flew off of its wingtip mount.
 
Without thinking he banked his plane hard to the right and the G-forces kicked him in the gut hard.  A quick glance at the numbers on his radar screen showed that the distance was uncomfortably close, almost to within two kilometers.  Mentally he cursed himself for allowing things to get so close.  Then just before completing the maneuver, he grabbed the throttle and pushed it all the way to max power, then activated his afterburner, causing the G-forces to slam him directly into his seat.
 
When his plane managed to get up to Mach 1.8 he cut out the afterburner and eased off the throttle “give me a status report, everybody report back” he ordered.  After about a minute of nervously waiting, all twenty three of the other pilots reported back safely.  The muscles in his back loosened and he felt as though about a hundred tonnes of weight had just been lifted off of his chest, and not as a result of the reduced G-forces. 
 
He cast a glance at his radar display again to see the enemy contacts still chasing after them, however it was a futile effort on their part as the range was now opening.  With the creeping horror receding behind them, he finally exhaled with a nervous sigh.  They had been fortunate that day, all three sorties so far had proven to be a success, and there had been no casualties.  It was time to return to base to rearm, refuel, and launch for yet another.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Received: from !blackhost!darpahost!blacknet.workhub.valoc.gov([158.127.225.192])
by christaylor@blacknet.workhub.valoc.gov
to: <meriwethercromwell@blacknet.southhub.valoc.gov>
date: wednesday, july 15, 1987, 7:36 AM
subject: afghanistan anomaly
 
Hi Matt,
 
 
Me and the other guys here at imaging are certain that there is no problem with the KH 11 network.  We’ve done three diagnostic checks on it and have found no other optical anomalies, especially nothing that resembles what we’re seeing in Afghanistan.  Sorry, you guys over at blackbox are just stuck with a real bonafide mystery to solve, good luck.
 
Best,
Chris
 
 
P.S. We just did some checking this morning and it certainly looks like there's another one forming in Brazil too.
 
 
P.P.S.  If you happen to come up with anything else and are allowed to, could you let me know, it’s got a number of us pretty confused over here as well.
 
 
 
Received: from !blackhost!darpahost!blacknet.southhub.valoc.gov([173.124.225.186])
by  meriwethercromwell@blacknet.southhub.valoc.gov
to: <christaylor@blacknet.workhub.valoc.gov>
date: friday, july 17, 1987, 2:48 PM
subject: afghanistan anomaly
 
 
Chris,
 
Well, we’ve been checking on a few other sources here and we think that it looks to definitely be some sort of massive structure that they are building there.  The exact purpose of it is of course a mystery as are so many other things regarding the bozorgs, but on the surface it appears to be some kind of shell, probably for protection.  Of course, it does appear to be a bit of overkill though at nearly eight miles across.  We are also not sure what the damn thing is made of either, although seismograph readings do show that there appears to be some sort of excavation or drilling of some sort going on in the vicinity, perhaps they are using rock or some form of concrete analogue.
 
Unfortunately anything else would be pure guess work, in which case you know about as much as we do.
 
Thanks,
Matt







"...for an estimated total price of 12 billion USD.  This takeover happens to be the third such acquisition of a major media corporation, and is the second by Wall Street newcomer James Connark and his investment firm Trident Corp.

Rumors of illegal and suspicious activity surrounding this most recent transaction kicked into high gear two weeks ago when evidence surfaced implicating News Corp.founder and CEO Rupert Murdoch of child prostitution charges which triggered a massive downward spiral for the stock prices of the multinational media conglomerate and bringing its stocks to a record low of $5 per share in as little as five days.  The appearance of this evidence following so soon after Trident Corp's initial offering of $22 per share was declined has only served to aggravate these suspicions.

A press release produced by Trident Corp. yesterday stated that..."

-Wall Street Journal article dated July 23, 1987, written by Jason Rittenhaus
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
-???
 
 
 
 
 
An ‘intelligence’ was proceeding with actions.  Although the term ‘intelligence’ was not the most accurate, there was no other word which fit it any better.
 
The great intrusion which had started at not too great a distance and was continuing onward to the current location was proving to be quite the obstruction.  While many intrusions had presented themselves, they had either almost always only occupied small amounts of space, appearing and disappearing over short distances and areas, or they had been of low enough intensity that their presence was hardly noticeable no matter how much space they covered.
 
However, this disturbance; no matter how close it’s location was, had proven to be far too obstructive.  Of course bridging to the other existence was always a complicated task and was quite difficult to manage.  That existence had what its inhabitants referred to as ‘time’ which was a concept that had no meaning in the primary existence.  This of course presented its own problems, however it would not be the first location when bridging had been necessary.  And as with all of those other locations, it had managed to remove the sources of the intrusions quite effectively, this would be no different.
 
The location when it would spring into action was approaching, near it would begin the process of removing this intrusion as well.

[StrikaAmaru]

I've read this last chapter 3 times, and I'm still not sure what to make of it, I suck at spy stuff. So I'm taking the opportunity to post an answer to the (non)Euclidean sidetalk without causing a necro.

I'm pretty sure we were talking right past each other there, but I can't figure out about what. So here's what I'm trying to say: an object existing in a non-Euclidean geometry will be fundamentally different from one existing in Euclidean geometry. A triangle will have angles which don't add up to 180 degrees; parallel lines won't maintain the same distance between them, a secant won't intersect two parallels with equal angles. That's why I said "if the city in Antarctica can be modeled in SketchUp, it's Euclidean.", because an Euclidean geometry forces all its objects to have all these properties.

Parallelism: Non-Euclidean geometries don't forbid parallelism; parallel lines still exist, but they're defined differently and have different properties, and somebody used to Euclidean geometry would have a hard time recognizing them as parallels.

So: the way you wrote it, the city being currently dug up in Antarctica (IF it is in Antarctica, of which I am no longer convinced) may be one of two mutually exclusive things: either it's a true Non-Euclidean region of space, OR it's the projection of a non-Euclidean space, which looks very weird, but obeys the constraints of Euclidean geometry, and IS an Euclidean geometry.

Another point I'd like to make (and it might be unconnected to the discussion at hand) is that on a sufficiently small scale all non-Euclidean geometries can be approximated by Euclidean geometry. This happens all the time in this Universe; mass distorts space, and causes the Universe to obey a Riemannian geometry; but when fiddling with things on the surface of the Earth, we don't notice that.

I've coughed up just about everything I can think is relevant about the subject. I hope it helps.

[joeluma]

Just wanted to mention, the teleportation technology makes the perfect delivery system for weapons, and nearly a weapon in its own right. If you can rig permanent portals, then you rig one above another. You insert your high-mass kinetic-kill weapon between them, let gravity pull it into the bottom portal, dropping it out of the top one. Rinse, repeat (preferably in a vacuum chamber to prevent friction from having a say). Have a bunch of these running. When you need it, you launch a new beacon over the enemy, then tap as many of these kinetics as you need. Bam. Instant buffet of death.

With the extremely low friction acheivable in a vacuum chamber, you should eventually be able to get the projectiles up to some truly terrifying velocities. At a certain point they stop being tactical and start being strategic weapons - build a couple smaller, more frangible ones, and when you first introduce it to atmosphere it will essentially convert completely into an explosion.

You can counter any subversion of these portals by simply making the entire mechanism very small, then encasing it in concrete.

Also, why use shuttles? Same teleportation tech... once you have your beacons in orbit...

[guest]

Well, sorry bout the lengthy absence. I've been kind of busy in RL, also the latest chapter is of a slightly different format from usual, so it's taken me a while to get it all written down.

To answer the previous poster's questions on teleportation. There are some limitatiuons to teleportation technology. For instance, as of right now, opening a portal requires considerable infrastructure in place to do it accurately. A single teleportation chamber for a short distance teleport(couple miles) is chock full of equipment and is the size of a small office building, it also requires considerable power, while I didn't state it as such in the story, the lambda complex requires multiple nuclear reactors to run. These portals also can only remain open for a few seconds at most. So, using a portable or permanently open portal at this time is not feasable.

Anyway, I've finally gotten around to finishing the last episode, so here it comes.

[guest]

Episode 21:







-11:36 PM July 28, 1987, 80 kilometers east of Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada





Master Chief Petty Officer Randall Biggs peered through the rain splattered windscreen of the UTB as it pushed on into the stormy night. The deck inside the cockpit shifted under his feet as the boat sliced through the moderate windblown chop on Lake Superior. Lieutenant Carlson surveyed the radar plot in front of him, its green light illuminating his face eerily in the otherwise dimly lit cabin "hmm, well we can clearly make it out at only a few klicks directly ahead, we'd probably be able to see it if not for this damned weather, try them again McKeon" he said.

Chief Petty officer Mckeon put the radio handset up to his mouth and squeezed the button on its side "this is US Coast Guard vessel UTB 73 attempting to contact the Great Lakes bulk carrier freighter MV Paul Tregurtha in response to your previously sent S-O-S, please respond, over" he said into the mic. There was a pause as they listened to the static over the radio, no response. He tried again "this is US Coast Guard vessel UTB 73 attempting to contact Great Lakes bulk carrier freighter MV Paul Tregurtha, please respond, over" and again nothing.

Randal pondered the radar plot himself, a perplexed look on his face "hmm, maybe their antenna was knocked out by the weather?" he theorized.

Carlson shook his head "could be, but it doesn't explain why they are just sitting there like a dead trout floating on the surface, something doesn't seem right" he said with a note of concern in his voice.

Randal scratched his chin briefly "you suspect something untoward?" he inquired.

The boat's commander shrugged "could be, we've been getting a number of red flags from the FBI in regards to a few fringe groups, particularly Posse Comitatus. Seems they are interested in disrupting international cooperation for the war effort. They were the ones behind that attempted bombing in Detroit last month" he said thoughtfully.

Randal bit his lip then took a deep breath "guess we'll find out in a few minutes" he said absently. The blip on the radar plot got increasingly close with each passing second, he returned to peering through the windscreen, trying to see if he could pick out the outline of the silent vessel. Feeling the boat begin to slow as the distance dropped, Randal shifted his weight to keep his balance.

The boat's pilot; Seaman Juneau, also peered thoughtfully through the windscreen, after another second he spoke "there it is, dead ahead" he said.

Randal continued searching, but still didn't see it "I know it's there, but still I'm not- oh" a flash of lightning lit up the sky and nicely outlined the large dark silhouette of the mysteriously quiet vessel. They were less than a kilometer away at this point and the gargantuan ship took up a large portion of their view. It quickly grew as they approached until it was blocking nearly their entire field of vision to the north "Jesus, that's a damned big ship" remarked Randall.

Carlson nodded "biggest in her class, wonder why the running lights are off" he remarked.

Randall turned to exit the cockpit "alright, I'll tell my team to get ready" he said as he began to descend the ladder leading down to the aft deck. As he descended, rain pelted his head and shoulders, after reaching the bottom of the ladder he turned and faced the hatch leading to the lower cabin which he opened and walked through with care.

Four additional men were holed up in the cramped space, some were inspecting weapons or making other preparations "we've spotted the Tregurtha, and we'll be pulling along side in a few moments, make sure you've got all your gear prepped and ready" he ordered to the others there.

Randal reached for his own sidearm and pulled it out of its holster, he pulled back on the slide to check to make sure a round was indeed properly chambered, then placed it back in the holster. Petty Officer Torrance got up and stepped close to Randall "any word on what's going on over there chief?" he asked.

Randal shook his head "sorry Torrance, no clue. You know about as much as I do" he said sympathetically. Not much was known about what had happened to the Tregurtha, only that a distress call had been received from the ship about two hours prior that was cut off just after they had managed to relay their location. Nobody even any idea as to what the nature of the emergency had been.

**

Ten minutes later the boat had pulled along side the freighter and Randal had climbed over the port gunwale of the gargantuan ship and drew his Beretta M9 in one hand and clutched his Maglite in the other. He surveyed his surroundings, and there wasn't a single sign of life anywhere, no crew members jumping for joy at the prospect of being rescued, no lights on anywhere, no hum of an engine or bilge pumps, nothing. The rain continued to pelt his head and shoulders, with water gathering and dripping off of the front edge of the brim of his cap.

Less than a minute later the rest of his team had climbed aboard, they too scanned their surroundings, bringing their weapons to bear from place to place. Confident that their immediate area was secure, Randal placed his flashlight in its holster and retrieved his walkie, he held it up to his mouth and squeezed the talk button, the speaker let out a short burst of static "this is Biggs, we've successfully boarded the Tregurtha, there is no sign of hostiles or friendlies. Proceeding to the bridge, over" he spoke into the mic and released the talk button.

Another burst of static came, then "roger that Master Chief, over" came Lieutenant Carlson's reply.



Randal replaced his walkie and pulled out his flashlight again “let’s go” he said, and nodded toward the dim superstructure of the vessel. They proceeded, Seaman Kazan led the way with his Remington 870D, the hand grip mounted flashlight illuminating the water covered deck.



Progress was somewhat ponderous as the team advanced with caution, it was as much due to the uneven nature of the rocking ship as it was the need to keep watch over all angles as they advanced. There was no sign as to just what had happened on board the vessel, no signs of struggle, no blood(of course the rain would have washed any away), no dropped belongings, nothing to indicate just where the crew of this vessel was. The dark silhouette of the ship's superstructure loomed before them, blotting out what background light there was. The outline of it from that angle with various structures and other features sprouting from the top gave it a somewhat jagged cross section, the overall appearance gave it an ominous resemblance to a large gaping mouth, waiting for some unsuspecting prey to walk right in.



They reached the hatch to the superstructure, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the outside bulkhead in stark white light. Apprehension which had been building in Randal since the first moment that he had seen the dark cargo vessel through the rain spattered windscreen of the UTB reached a fever pitch as he watched Seaman Jennings’ hand grip the handle.



He didn’t know what they would find inside, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and while he tried to keep his own imagination at bay, it still produced images of armed men waiting behind the door, waiting to cut down the first to go through that hatch. He could feel his heart beat right through his ribcage as Jennings pulled the handle down, an audible metallic groaning accompanying the action. Then the seaman threw it open, it clanked loudly against the metal bulkhead of the superstructure, and the now open hatchway gaped back at them.



Their flashlights shone into the dimly lit corridor beyond the portal, the ship’s emergency lights illuminated some vague details of the interior beyond the hatchway, and for the first time they spotted the first signs of trouble. Along the floor in a couple places lay various items; some sheets of paper, the distant shimmer of what looked like shattered glass, and what looked like a large wrench laying on decking in front of one of the open hatchways further down the corridor. Randal brought the walkie up to his mouth “this is Biggs, we have reached the entrance to the superstructure, entering now, over” he announced.



“Roger that, proceed with caution.”



Randal almost laughed at that thank you for such wonderful advice Lieutenant, never would have thought of that on my own he thought to himself nervously. He nodded “proceed” he ordered with a curt nod, and the five of them cautiously entered the hatchway. Then they made their way down the corridor, checking each room.



Again there weren’t many signs of anything, just the occasional dropped item or spilled mess. A shattered coffee pot on the floor, an overturned toolbox. It all certainly looked like something had happened suddenly, something urgent enough that the crew seemed to have dropped whatever it was that they were doing to go attend to it. The first deck provided little evidence of what had happened, just that it had been sudden.



So they returned to the stairway to go up to the next deck, Kazan led the way again with his shotgun, the other four of them followed closely behind, covering all the angles with their weapons. When the seaman reached the top of the first flight he froze, Randal thought he heard the man whisper a silent curse "think we've got something here sir" he said.



Randal made his way past the other members of his team up the stairs to the landing and immediately spotted a large bright red smudge on the railing, casting his Maglite up the railing he saw that there were additional smudges going all the way up to the next deck. Wedging his flashlight under his armpit he reached over with a finger and touched it to the red smudge, it was sticky and cold, he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger checking its consistency, then brought it up to his nose and took a sniff; yep, definitely blood he thought as he got a dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. An inspection of the stairs themselves revealed additional spatters of blood as well.



They continued upward, again with utmost caution. Upon reaching the next deck they saw a large puddle of blood with thick crimson streaks leading away into the corridor “Jesus” it was Jennings “whoever this blood belongs to, I don’t think they are alive anymore” his voice was a bit uneven.



Petty Officer Torrance took a step forward “stow it Jennings, we don’t need your speculation right now, we’re here to find some lost sailors, that’s it” he reprimanded the young enlisted man.



Randall took a deep breath to steady his nerves “this is Biggs, we’ve found a trail of blood on the second deck, we’re following to see where it leads, be advised that there may still be hostiles on board, over” he said into his walkie.



“Roger that, will be notifying Calumet of the situation, over.”


They proceeded down the corridor, following the ominously thick trail of blood. Randall’s heart was racing by now, in spite of the emergency lighting, the interior of the ship was still very dark, their flashlights and the emergency lights cast strange looking shadows across the bulkheads and decking and the occasional flashes of lighting shining in from outside only served to heighten Randal's building sense of foreboding. They cleared each compartment as they passed it, not wanting to risk someone popping out and surprising them.



Again, each chamber was empty, some with apparent signs of sudden abandonment. Finally they reached the hatch that the blood trail led into. The hatch itself was closed but not latched, so it lazily swung open and closed as the ship gently rocked in the water. Each man positioned himself outside the door so as to cover both approaches along the corridor and the hatchway itself. Randal licked his lips and realized that his mouth felt bone dry in spite of the soaking wet nature of his uniform "this is the US Coast Guard, we are about to enter this compartment, place any and all weapons that may be in your possession on the ground and come out with your hands behind your head, we are armed" he announced authoritatively.



When no response came, Randall made the announcement again, but again nothing resulted. He cast a brief look at Jennings who positioned himself closer to the hatch and reached for the handle, he looked up expectantly at Randal who nodded back at him with a jerking motion. The second Randal saw the young enlisted man's hand grip the handle he felt as though his heart had literally dropped out of his chest onto the floor. The hatch swung open, and when no shots rang out and no madman lunged at them with a knife, Randal felt a little of the tension in his muscles fade, but only a little.



He could sense the same heightened stress in all of the other men, especially Kazan who slowly entered the opened hatchway. Jennings followed immediately after Kazan, then went Randal. The room beyond appeared to be nothing more than a berthing with perhaps a half dozen bunks. It was again poorly lit inside, but Randal managed to make out the blood trail as it ran all the way across the room to a lone window in the bulkhead opposite from the hatchway. The edges of the window were lined with jagged shards of glass, framing what was now a gaping hole in the bulkhead open to the outside. The decking immediately below the window shimmered with a mixture of water, shattered glass, and of course more blood.



They went further into the compartment, scanning in between the bunks and checking underneath them as well for any sign of the crew. Again, there was none, other than the gratuitously thick trail of blood leading to the shattered window. When he reached the window, Randal noticed that there were scraps of cloth and what appeared to be flesh, most likely from whoever it was the blood belonged to, probably getting torn from their body as they went through the window.


He poked his head outside to see if he could spot anything of interest, but all he saw was rain, the lake, and darkness. He nodded back to the other two men who had entered the room and with that they made their way back out of the compartment.



"This is Biggs, blood trail led to an empty compartment, it appears that whoever left it jumped out or was thrown out the window. Will be proceeding on with our sweep, over."



"Roger that. Over and out."



The five man team exchanged glances, while no one said anything, they all knew that whatever had happened to the unfortunate bastard that left all that blood on the floor, they almost certainly had not thrown themselves out the window.



With little delay they finished their sweep of that deck then moved on to the next one. It featured little more than the previous decks, aside from a few blood splatters here and there. They then ascended the stairway to the next deck.



Upon exiting into the corridor, it appeared that little was different about this deck than the previous ones, except after clearing the second compartment when Torrance cast his flashlight over the bulkhead to the left "what the fuck?!" he said with a tone of shock. It immediately drew Randal's attention to the spot where the petty officer's flashlight beam was still illuminating.



When he saw what it was that had shocked the other man his feeling of dread somehow got exponentially worse. There on the bulkhead, written in large haphazardly scrawled letters were the words "GOD HELP US" in blood. Two of the other men could also be heard muttering a curse of something else unpleasant under their breath.



Further searching revealed no other sign of the writer, nor anyone else on that deck. So they made their way back to the stairwell and on up to their next destination; the bridge.



Kazan was first up out of the stairway, disappearing into the bridge ahead of the rest "all clear!" he shouted back as the rest of the team made their way up into the darkened bridge. When Randal entered, he saw that the bridge bore a similar condition to the rest of the ship, papers and other items littered the deck, as if everyone had dropped whatever it was they had been doing and left. A quick inspection of the port side of the bridge revealed the first sign of the crew aside from blood.



Laying on the decking below the ship's radio set was the lifeless body of a man laying face down in a rather large pool of blood. Randal nodded over toward Petty officer Torrance who inspected the body "not ice cold, but still cool. He's been dead for at least an hour or two" explained the petty officer. He glanced over at the radio's handset which was still clutched in the dead man's lifeless fingers "I guess we've found our mystery caller" said Torrance grimly.



He inspected the body for another thirty seconds or so "looks like he's been shot, maybe a .22 or a .38, this must be the entry wound" he explained, indicating the large bloody spot near the small of the man's back.



"This one too" it was Jennings who was standing next to the radio set, his Maglite was illuminating what looked all to much like a bullet hole in the front of the radio.



Randal bit his lip and furrowed his brow "somebody didn't want word getting out about whatever it was that was going on here" he said thoughtfully. He took a breath "hhhokay, Petty Officer, can you get me an ID on this unfortunate gentleman?" he said to the still crouching man.



Torrance nodded "no problem chief" he said as he searched through the man's pockets, it didn't take long before he turned up a wallet. He opened it "name's Gerald Gilfrey, address here is in Flint, Michigan" he said as he inspected the contents of the wallet.



Randall nodded, he lifted his walkie up to his mouth "Lieutenant Carlson, this is Biggs, we've found a body, looks like somebody shot him in the back, probably a handgun judging by the size of the wound. No sign of the gunman unfortunately. His drivers license says that his name is Gerald Gilfrey of Flint, Michigan. Can you check to see if he's one of the crew? over." he said.



The walkie crackled "roger that chief, I'll get on the horn to Calumet about it, will keep you posted. Over" came the reply.



Randall nodded to no one in particular "roger that, over and out" he said and then placed his walkie back on his belt. He took a look around the almost completely black bridge "alright, this tub had a crew of thirty five when it left port, we have so far accounted for possibly one of them, maybe two. I want to find out what happened to the other thirty-four" he said decisively.



Kazan was standing near the forward facing windows of the bridge "should probably check the life boats, maybe the rest of the crew abandoned ship" he suggested.



Randall took another breath "good thinking Kazan. Torrance-" he stopped suddenly as he thought he heard something, possibly a sound originating from somewhere else aboard the ship "did anyone else hear that?" he inquired.


The Petty Officer cocked his head to the side while he listened "can't say that I did Chief" he replied "maybe it was jus-" clank!


Everybody's head shot over toward the stairwell, Randall's heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath to calm himself then grabbed his walkie and brought it up to his mouth "this is Biggs, did any of your people come aboard? over" he inquired.


"That's a negative Chief, everything alright? over"


Clank!


"We may have something-" Clank! "-here, will let you know if we get any further details, stand by, over"


Clank!


"Roger that."


Clank!


They were getting a bit louder and increasing in frequency "what the hell is that?!" it was Jennings.


Torrance shot a stern look over at the young Seaman "stay frosty Jennings, sounds like something being dragged up the stairs. What are your orders Chief?" he said.


Randall looked around at his team as he thought through the situation, then "okay, Macready, I'm going to need you to go take a look down the stairwell, see if you can spot whatever it is that's making that noise. Be careful" he ordered, putting extra emphasis on the last two words.


The other man nodded silently then headed over toward the stairs, descended a few steps then looked over the railing, after a few seconds he returned "I couldn't make out much, but I could discern some movement, somebody moving up the stairway, don't know how many, but they aren't moving too fast" he explained, the stress in his voice was quite apparent.


Randal nodded, by now the clanking was coming a little faster than once a second. His mind raced as he processed the situation okay, one or more people moving up the stairs, don't know if they are armed, don't know what their destination is, though I don't think I should assume that they are heading anywhere but here. There is also a very good chance that they are hostile. Umm, should we head down the stairs to intercept them, or wait for them up here?


IIINo, the stairs are too narrow, and dark. It'll nullify any numerical advantage we may have and be way too easy for somebody to get shot in the back. Alright, the bridge is the best spot to defend from, we are covering the only entrance and if there is more than one they will have to come in two at a time at the most.


His mind came back to the present "okay, MacReady, Torrance, and Kazan, you cover from that side" he said indicating the part of the bridge on the other side of the stairwell entrance "Jennings and I will cover from this side, I don't want anyone to be within line of site of the stairs, I want whoever is coming up to do so without seeing us beforehand" he ordered.


The other four men complied and took up defensive positions around the bridge, each one finding a location that afforded some kind of cover. Randall as well as everyone else also took a second to check their weapons, ensuring that they were ready to go before training them on the stairwell entrance once again.


Over the next minute the clanking got louder and louder, closer and closer. Meanwhile Randal's heart had started pounding louder and louder too, it felt as if it was almost as loud as the banging coming from the stairs. He tried to calm himself, taking slow deep breaths, but it didn't help, the anticipation was too great. Finally it sounded as though it was just beyond the door.


The clanking stopped suddenly, there was a pause, then there was an audible scraping noise, metallic in nature, as if someone was dragging a shovel or crowbar or something over the metal decking.

Something moved in the beams of their flashlights. It took a second before Randal recognized it as a man emerging from the hatchway. He was middle aged by the looks of it, caucasian, with dark brown or black hair. He had a lot of blood on his face as well as cuts and scrapes, a considerable amount of it leaked out from a sizable cut in his forehead. The blood also covered much of the plaid flannel shirt and jeans he was wearing. He resembled some kind of lumber jack, albeit a rather frightening looking one.


There was something odd about the way he moved as well, he looked like he was a character in a claymation film, his movements were jerky and awkward looking. Then Randal got a look at the man's face, he didn't look scared, it didn't look calm, he looked... lifeless. Suddenly Randal spotted something in the man's right hand; it was a fire axe which he dragged along the decking that produced that metallic scraping noise. Blood ran down the handle and covered the blade, Randall got the feeling that the blood did not entirely belong to this man.


"This is the United States Coast Guard, place the axe on the floor, put your hands on your head and lay down face forward" commanded Randall. The horrific looking man ignored it and continued to walk forward. Randall tightened the grip on his weapon "drop the axe, or we will open fire. This is your final warning" he asserted.


Two more steps forward, and the man showed no signs of stopping alright, your funeral thought Randal. He took about half a second to steady his aim then squeezed the trigger, a loud pop filled the interior of the bridge, the Beretta kicked back in his hand.
Almost instantly a splatter of red exploded from the man's midsection indicating a hit, but he didn't even seem to notice that he had been shot.


Randal's eyes widened, he didn't know how a man could have taken a bullet like that without so much as stumbling or slowing down. He didn't have time to contemplate this though, and so he quickly corrected his aim and fired again, this time higher up into the man's chest. The rest of the team joined in, flashes and loud bangs filled the ship's bridge, producing a strange strobe light-like effect which only made the strange man's movements seem even more unnatural.


The intruder lunged at Kazan even as a bullet struck him directly in the head blowing a large crater in the side of it. The axe went up, and then swung down, right into the side of the young man's head. Blood squirted out right onto MacReady who cried out in terror. As Kazan collapsed to his knees, Randall noticed something on the back of the attacker's neck, he couldn't make it out clearly, but it looked dark and metallic and shiny, and was burrowed into the flesh of the man's neck.


Without thinking, aimed for the strange object as the attacker struggled to pull the axe out of the now lifeless Kazan. He squeezed the trigger, then squeezed again, then squeezed a third time. On the fourth shot the crazed man stopped moving and collapsed to the floor on top of his unfortunate victim.


Everyone stopped firing almost all at once, the silence was thunderous, and the smell of cordite filled his nostrils. Randal approached the two now limp bodies, blood pooled in a large puddle beneath them and had splattered over just about every surface within three feet. As everyone else kept their weapons trained on the now seemingly dead attacker, Randall reached down and pulled his bullet riddled body off of Kazan. Any hope that he had had for the young man disappeared when he confirmed what he had seen before; the blade of the axe was firmly embedded into the side of Kazan's skull.


"What the fuck was that?! How the fuck?! What the fuck?! FUCK!"


It was MacReady, he was standing there wide eyed, his weapon trained on the lifeless body of Kazan's attacker. Randal turned his attention to the other body now, he suddenly realized that his weapon was empty, he ejected the magazine and quickly inserted another. The body lay there covered in blood, riddled with bullet holes. Randal took another deep breath to steady his nerves "alright, everybody stay calm. It won't do any good to lose it now" he said, his voice wavered despite his best efforts.


Jennings shook his head "what the fuck was that?! We must've put close to fifty rounds into him, hell look at his head, there's a hole the size of the freaking Grand Canyon in it! This can not be happening" he said both confused and upset.


Randall then remembered the realization he had had earlier, god it felt like it had been hours ago, but he knew that it was less than a minute "MacReady, flip him over, I want to get a look at the back of his neck" he ordered.


The shaken man complied, he took a step toward the fallen attacker and flipped the limp body over. Randall moved closer and trained his flashlight at the spot in question, then he crouched down to get a closer look at it "what the hell is that?" asked Torrance.


There, on or rather in the neck was what looked like some kind of insect, its limbs had burrowed into the surrounding flesh surrounded with crusted and dried blood. It was hard to tell exactly what the creature looked like due to the damage caused by two bullet holes in it as well as the copious amounts of blood and torn flesh covering it, but it was black with a faint metallic tint to it.

Randal rose and looked back at Kazan's body "I have no idea Petty Officer, but I have a strong feeling that this ship was not the victim of terrorists after all, Jennings, secure Kazan's shotgun and extra shells" he said in a slightly more steady voice.


"Chief, what is your status, over."


The voice on his walkie reminded Randal that the Lieutenant was still out there waiting for an update, he shook his head and brought the walkie up to his mouth "the situation is critical sir, we have one man down, and we took out one hostile, but are unsure if there are any more on board. Take note that we are dealing with a possible BLACK QUARANTINE situation; I repeat, we have a possible BLACK QUARANTINE situation here. Recommending immediate evacuation, over."


"Roger that Chief, we'll pass the word onto Calu-"


It was cut off suddenly, replaced by what sounded like screaming, static, some kind of inhuman shrieking noise, and possibly the sound of gunfire "Lieutenant!" no response "Lieutenant, this is Chief Biggs, please respond, over" again, nothing but static. His heart rate picked up again as they all looked at each other for about half a second then they all bolted for the hatchway leading to the stairwell.


Caution gave way to haste as they made their way down toward the main deck of the ship. Within a minute they had descended all the way down the stairwell and all four of them had burst out onto the rain spattered deck where they made a beeline for the gunwale and looked over. Where they expected to see the boat moored next to the ship further forward, there was nothing but water. Not wasting any time, they almost ran the full distance up to spot where they had boarded.


Randal leaned over the side of the ship and shone his flashlight into the water, hoping to see some sign of the boat which had brought them there or at least its crew; some wreckage, or a body or something, anything. There was nothing though, not a damned thing, just black frothy water shit shit shit Randal was starting to feel a few slight traces of panic creep into his mind.


Seaman Jennings collapsed down onto the deck "oh fuck! Oh, game over man, game over! What the hell do we do now?!" he exclaimed as he pounded a fist into the metal decking.


Randal turned around and faced the remaining members of his team, he didn't have to see the expressions on their faces; their body language said it all, they were starting to crack. He had to think of something, some plan to keep control of the situation and prevent anyone from panicking.


He took a deep breath "alright, okay... um, okay, Kazan said something about checking the life boats earlier. We'll head on over to the fantail and see if they are still there, and if they are, we'll take our chances in one of them. Let's go" he said in the most determined voice he could manage.


At first only he and Torrance started to move, both the junior enlisted men stayed where they were "Jennings, MacReady, move it" he ordered. Both men looked at each other, then back at Randall, then after another second or two MacReady helped his comrade to his feet.


They made their way back through the interior of the ship's superstructure, the beams of their flashlights darted this way and that, looking for the slightest sign of someone or something ready to set upon them from the shadows. Randal's heart was constantly pounding in his chest now, the possibility of yet another horrific looking crewmember to lunge at them nagged at him incessantly.


As they neared the end of the dimly lit corridor, they came to a stairway, with Torrance leading the way, they ascended until they reached a closed hatchway leading out to the fantail. A quick glance on the hatch's handle revealed yet more blood smeared all over and around it "looks like we aren't the first to come this way" said Torrance. Randall's heart sank at that realization, although he hated himself for it, he half hoped that there weren't enough surviving crew members to need both lifeboats.


Torrance reached for the handle. Randal braced himself, preparing to encounter the worst behind that hatch, and hoping for the best. The hatch made a metallic groaning sound and swung open, clanging against the bulkhead, nothing but rain and wind greeted them outside. Slowly the petty officer stepped through the now open hatchway, the darkness made it hard to see clearly, but Torrance's shoulders visibly sank "all clear" he said, a tone of disappointment in his voice.


The rest of the team filed out onto the fantail, the faint odor of diesel fuel and something burnt wafted into his nostrils, a look to his right revealed the source of the smell. There hanging on its winch were the charred remnants of one of the ship's lifeboats, looking to the other winch revealed that the other lifeboat was in similar condition fuck. This time Randal collapsed onto his knees, desperation was starting to grip him.


MacReady pounded a fist into the bulkhead with a dull metal thud "what the fuck! What else could go wrong?!" he practically spat the words.


It was like some form of sadistic game or prank, they had been suckered onto this ship and every avenue of escape they tried had been cut off. Jennings was flailing his arms about in the air violently "what the fuck man, what the fu-" he was cut off by Torrance.


"Shut it!"


"No man I'm not gonna sh-"


"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, I hear something" the petty officer fixed the young enlisted man with a gaze that even in the dim light managed to get through to him. Randall picked himself up and faced the other man who nodded toward the open hatchway with his weapon at the ready.


The rest of them positioned themselves around the hatchway, and they listened. Through the sounds of the storm and the lake Randall began to make out what sounded like a combination of dull bangs and clanks, it sounded like someone was stumbling up or falling down the stairs.


Standing before the open hatchway, they aimed their weapons and flashlights down the stairway toward the next landing, the beams of light piercing the darkness to illuminate sporadic blood splatters on the stairs, bulkhead and railings. The sound got slightly louder as time went by, a minute passed, then another. Finally a slight hint of movement on the stairs below the landing drew their attention. Redirecting their aim, they spotted the blood covered heads of two -no, three men shambling up the steps in a similar way to the last one.


As they walked into the light all three men turned their heads to direct three lifeless stares up at the coastguardsmen out on the fantail. In spite of the lack of emotion and life- or rather because of it, those stares chilled Randal to the bone. The awkward pace increased as the lifeless men spotted their targets. Randal paused for only a fraction of a second, but to him it felt like an eternity "fire!" he ordered, and all four remaining coastguardsmen opened fire.


Time moved at a snails pace and too fast to keep up all at the same time. Randall managed to register each shot as his pistol kicked back against the firm grip of his right hand, but it felt like a surprise when the slide on his weapon clicked open after the last bullet left. He noted that the first charging crewman had collapsed as he ejected the still smoking spent magazine, the fifth or sixth shot to hit him- or rather it in the neck seemed to have done the trick.


By the time he had managed to replace the empty magazine with a fresh one and popped it into place, the two remaining man-things had managed to leap over the fallen one and were most of the way up the stairs. Randal took aim at the neck of the first one and pulled the trigger, his weapon bucked in his hand. He squeezed again, and then again, after what felt like both an eternity and too short a time to measure he saw the second charging man-thing fall to the deck, just at the top of the stairs.


Without thinking he turned his attention to the third and last enemy. He aimed and fired, and then his weapon clicked empty. To his horror, the charging monstrosity was already at the hatchway, he lunged through it at them, Randall leaped to his left, in a desperate attempt to get out of the way. The other three also did the same, but it was MacReady who wasn't fast enough.


The charging man-thing carried no weapon, but it didn't matter. It lashed out with bare hands, clawing and clubbing and flailing. MacReady screamed out in terror as his arms went up in defense as he struggled against his attacker. The three of them quickly turned back to lend assistance and try to pull the man-thing off their comrade whose cries of fear were being stifled by a pair of wretched hands wrapping around his neck. It seemed of no use however, the lifeless attacker was far stronger than it appeared, and it was very hard to fight an opponent who didn't seem to feel any pain.


Randal had a sudden epiphany when he caught a glimpse of the black shiny mass on the back of the man-thing's neck. He brought his hand up and then quickly swung down hard with the butt of his pistol which impacted on the protrusion with a disgusting crunching noise. When that failed to do the job he repeated the act. Finally on the third swing he felt the black shiny mass give way, a glob of black goop spattered on his chest, and the man-thing ceased it's struggles.


They wasted no time in pulling the limp body off of the young seaman who collapsed to the decking on his hands and knees in a fit of coughing. It was at this point that Randall realized that he was breathing heavily, he also realized that much of his uniform was soaked, he wondered how much of that was from the rain and how much was due to persperation. He leaned over the still choking MacReady "are you okay?" he inquired intently.


A couple more seconds of coughing and the young man managed to look up and give Randall a thumbs up and a nod. Randall took a deep breath and nodded "hhhokay, take a minute to catch your breath. Petty Officer, have you spotted any more heading up the stairs?" he asked in the direction of Torrance who had taken up position by the hatchway a few seconds earlier.


Torrance shook his head "no, looks clear at the moment" he replied as he shined his Maglite down the stairwell.


"Fuck me man, how many more of those could there be?"


It was Jennings who was currently reloading his shotgun, Randal realized that his own weapon was empty so he ejected the spent magazine and inserted another "I think we have to assume that the entire remainder of the crew has been turned into more of those... things, whatever they are" he said as he popped the slide back into place on his pistol.


Jennings looked up at him, then shook his head "aww fuck, that's nearly thirty of them, and I only got maybe ten shells left for the shotgun, maybe another three mags for my Beretta, there's no way we can take on that many on our own, what the fuck are we gonna do?!" he said with a combination of exasperation and panic in his voice.


Randall shot a frustrated look down at his subordinate "calm down Jennings, panicking isn't going to do us any good" he said as he crouched down on the deck and looked over at MacReady who had stopped coughing and was reloading his own weapon. He put his hand on the young man's shoulder "you okay now?" he inquired.


MacReady looked back at him and nodded "other than a few scratches and bruises, I"ll be okay chief, but Jennings is right, we can't possibly hold these things off for too much longer, we need to get off this tub" he said.


Randall took a thoughtful breath "right, okay. Well, all these big cargo tubs have an emergency beacon which gets deployed in the event that the ship sinks. It should be located on the top of the superstructure, if we can get to it, we should be able to activate it and then barricade ourselves inside the bridge until the cavalry arrives, they'll be in walkie range too, so we can warn them about this infestation or whatever you want to call it" he explained.


He looked up at Torrance "ready?" he said as he then looked over at Jennings and then MacReady, they both nodded. Randal stood up and headed for the hatch "okay, then let's get a move on" he ordered, and with that the four of them headed back up the stairs toward the bridge.


The journey up through the superstucture was intimidating but uneventful. The bridge was just as they had left it as well, so no unpleasant surprises so far, thankfully. Without delay they made their way out to the starboard observation deck and ascended the ladder leading up on top of the bridge. The four of them crossed the water covered roof toward the center where a pair of smoke stacks and the large metal tower rose above all else aboard the goliath vessel, it was there that their objective lay.


When they reached the bottom of the antenna assembly, Torrance holstered his weapon "I'll head up and get it-" he started to say as he approached the narrow ladder leading up to the top.


Randall interrupted him "stand fast Petty Officer, I'll go up there. One lightning strike on that thing and you'll be fried" he protested. A flash of lightning illuminated their surroundings in pale white light as if to demonstrate the point.


The petty officer shook his head "that's right, and if one of us doesn't make it, we're gonna nee someone else to keep things together so that the survivors can have a chance to make it off this tub alive" he said as he fixed Randall with a determined expression on his face. Even in the darkness Randall managed to glean the intensity in the other man's expression.


He nodded "I suppose you're right, alright then. Be quick about it, we've already lost one man too many tonight" he said with resignation.


Torrance began his ascent "don't worry Chief, I have no intention of getting barbecued tonight" he said with a touch of genuine humor in his voice.


As the sound of the petty officer's feet thumping against the rungs of the ladder grew fainter, Randall turned his attention out towards the direction they had come "alright, keep an eye on all the approaches, we don't want any surprise visitors now" he directed.


A couple minutes later Randall heard his walkie squawk "okay, I've found the beacon. It appears to be in working order, for once we've been fortunate, hold on. It's gonna take me a minute to get it loose, over" came Torrance's voice over the radio.


Randall held up his own walkie and spoke into it "roger that, don't get comfortable up there" he responded.


Another minute or two passed in relative silence, Jennings was the first to speak "anybody else hear something?" he asked.


"Where did it come from, and what did it sound like?"


"I dunno, it was hard to make ou-"


Jennings was interrupted and Randall's heart skipped a beat as the sound of something loud and metallic rang out, the direction from which it came was again hard to make out. Randal placed his walkie up to his mouth and pressed the talk button "Torrance, you didn't happen to drop anything heavy or fall down did you? over" he said.


"that's a negative Chief, what's going on? over"


Another loud bang sounded out, it was accompanied by a flurry of other unidentifiable noises "hurry up Torrance, I don't care if you have to shoot it off, but get that beacon and get down from there ASAP" he said, not even bothering with radio protocol.


"Roger that, I"m almost finished. I'll be heading down in another couple seconds, over."


More noises, this time it was evident that they were originating from below, they were getting louder. Randal's walkie chirped "coming down now" was Torrance's announcement, and the sound of his feet hitting the ladder rungs followed immediately after.


Jennings made an alarmed sound, and Randal worked his way around the antenna assembly to see another of those man-things climbing up on top of the roof. MacReady also let out an audible curse "I've got one over here!" he shouted.


Just as the first one managed to come over the edge, another appeared as it awkwardly lifted itself up onto the roof. Randall silently cursed to himself as he took aim at the first lifeless attacker and squeezed the trigger. He saw a splatter of blood shoot out from its neck showing that he had aimed well, but otherwise there was no discernable effect. He fired again, and again there was little to no effect.


The percussive sound and bright flash of a 12 gauge shotgun told Randall that Jennings had also started firing, the higher pitched popping of a Beretta 9mm also told Randall that MacReady had also started firing. He didn't dwell on it however as he continued to put rounds into the oncoming shambling horror before him. By the time his weapon clicked empty, the man-thing was a scant couple feet away.


It lunged at him. He ducked out of the way in an effort to avoid it's outstretched hands. However, his move brought him into arms reach of another one. Suddenly, to his horror, he realized that there weren't two, or three or four man-things up there with them, but dozens.


The nearest one, wrapped its arms around his neck, he attempted to struggle against it, but it was of no use. As the thing's grip on him tightened, his ability to breathe became far more difficult. He felt a set of teeth over the side of his neck; they bit down, tearing his flesh and sending a sharp pain through his neck. He tried to cry out, but the arm around his neck prevented anything but a few stifled gasps from escaping his mouth. The pain was soon accompanied by a strange feeling of warmth on his neck, he then realized that he was starting to lose a lot of blood.


Randall attempted to use his pistol as a club to pound on his attacker, but there was no use; it felt no pain and his attacks had no effects. As his vision started to dim, he managed to make out the image of Macready being overpowered by another two or three attackers of his own..


His last thought before losing consciousness was that he wished that he had managed to save just one more bullet for himself.

[DKeith2011]

When fighting zombies always save the last bullet for yourself.

[guest]

When fighting zombies always save the last bullet for yourself.

Don't say the zed word!!!

[The Vortex Empire]

Well that's certainly not good. I assume these things take over the central nervous system somehow, and because it would just fit in this sort of story, I assume the people are probably still conscious but can't control their body.

[DKeith2011]

When fighting zombies always save the last bullet for yourself.

Don't say the zed word!!!

Life challenged?

Living impaired?

Differently living?

[guest]

Life challenged?

Living impaired?

Differently living?

Actually, considering that zombies are supposed to be dead yet are prevented from being totally lifeless, they technically should be considered death impaired.

[Andehtron]

I was wondering when you were going to get around to some kind of infestation malarkey guest. I'd like to get hear more from the Hive minds perspective, especially when we start to REALLY piss it off.