User:WolfyDrake95/Under The Cover of Darkness
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{{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | ||
Author: WolfyDrake95
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{{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | |
Author: WolfyDrake95 |
Author: WolfyDrake95
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{{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | |
{{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | | Authors: ' |
Authors: WolfyDrake95
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{{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | |
Authors: WolfyDrake95 |
Author: WolfyDrake95
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My very first online TF story. It's a writing assignment from my teacher, supposed to be on Science Fiction. I liked it, so here it is. I've always wondered about what would happen if hybrid supersoldiers were created in an alternate Halo©verse, and now I've done it. Sorry if it sucks. This is probably really lousy, but hopefully if other, better writers can give me constructive criticism I'll get better (For one thing it's a war story: it probably needs more vulgarities). Hope you guys can comment a lot and give me suggestions on what's good and what's bad!
 | Copyediting is welcome |
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“Crap!” I cycled the chamber of the silenced sniper rifle, ejecting the spent round, and then looked through the scope again. I had missed the shot. The alien I had targeted, still very much alive, was now doubled over from the chest wound, staggering forward and grappling with something in its hand. Though I couldn’t tell for sure at this range, the alien looked a good three meters tall, blue-armored and holding a strange rifle in his hands. Sharp spines protruded from its back, and a long black tail trailed behind it. I fired another round, hoping it hadn’t called for backup, and this time my aim was true. The round entered the side of its helmet and the alien collapsed soundlessly, an object in its hand shattering on the ground. Blood sprayed the polycrete building it had been guarding. I pulled the empty magazine out and methodically inserted a new one with a scrape of metal on metal. Conventional projectile weaponry were better suited for covert ops, given the fact that they produced significantly less light then the energy-based weapons Earth had developed over the past century.
Strike Team Sierra, us, had been sent in under the cover of darkness to neutralise an alien-controlled city. This wasn’t the usual run-and-gun missions: the enemy had massed in the city and there were way too many of them even for us. This time our objective was to leave a rigged warhead in the city center. Unlike the old nuclear ordinance in the 21st century, these were designed to contain the radiation inside the blast radius and dissipate it within seconds: a tactical “clean” warhead. Safe…as long as you were a kilometer or further from ground zero. It was obvious the aliens were massing for an invasion, and blowing their rally point before they could attack was the only way Earth could survive.
While the rest of the team had gone in, Jim and I, the sniper team, had gone prone on a cliff overlooking the city. Our silver fur and black camo suits blended in perfectly with the granite that we lay on. Jim and I had been friends since college, been in the same team and stuck with each other through everything. We both accepted entry to Sierra. It was compulsory that all strike team members received genetic enhancements, as strike teams were often sent in for critical high-risk missions. The idea was that genetically enhanced soldiers would be able to fight and survive better and rely less on technology. We had both signed up for a wolf hybrid enhancement, and after signing a whole bunch of legal documents, then came the real thing. It had taken a complete two months for the changes to end. It didn’t actually hurt; but it was unnerving to watch one’s body change. By the time the changes ended, I had grown a foot taller and looked barely human, most of my body being more lupine in appearance, complete with fur, muzzle and the ever-present tail. It then took another month of rehab to get used to the new senses and changes, and then Jim and I were both drafted to Sierra, accurately dubbed the “Wolf Pack”.
Jim turned to me and reported, “Final target spotted, one o’clock, elevation 30 metres, wind is two knots from the east.” I made the necessary adjustments to my rifle, and rested my muzzle on the leather stock, trigger finger tensed. I sighted down the scope, leading the alien sentry and then I squeezed the trigger. The silenced rifle flashed, and the alien collapsed on the rooftop it was guarding. I placed my rifle on a mat, and activated TEAMCOM, “Sierra-four to Sierra-one, enemy sentries neutralized, over.” “Copy that, Sierra-four, we left the present. We are falling back to the extraction point, rendezvous there when we’re out of here. No enemy activity so far, but stay sharp, keep us posted and cover us, over.” Watching my team through the scope of my rifle, I saw them moving out of the captured city, keeping in the shadows. All was going according to plan, I guessed, and soon we’d be on a dropship and watching as the city exploded into a gigantic mushroom cloud. “I can’t believe Command outfitted us in these,” I groused conversationally, tapping my helmet with a claw. It was designed to channel heat and kinetic energy around the helmet to protect the wearer from the plasma weapons the aliens used, and ours had been custom made for our lupine head shape. It was also designed for minimum interference with hearing and smell, two critical senses that we possessed, but it was also awfully constricting. The light armor assigned to us also constricted our movement, something I found extremely distasteful.
“Stop grumbling, we’re out of here,” Jim said, obviously grinning from the tone of his voice (I couldn’t see through his silver-tinted faceplate), standing and giving me a hand up. As I reached for his hand, a purple beam of energy lanced out from the city, burning through Jim’s light armor and right shoulder. Jim snarled as blood sprayed across the cold granite and despite the pain Jim dropped and rolled behind a rock. The sharp tang of blood filled the air. “Sniper!” I spat, and then yelled into TEAMCOM, “We’ve been compromised! We’re taking fire, get out of there, over!” That sentry must have sounded the alert in the brief moments before he died; something that I prayed my mistake would not cause. I brought my rifle up to bear as another beam sizzled past my head, singeing the fur. I followed the bolt’s trajectory and squeezed off another round, downing the enemy sniper. I watched with a kind of gruesome satisfaction as the sniper dropped, half its face missing. I twisted around. “Are you OK?” I asked, concerned. “Just a flesh wound,” Jim grunted, shrugging on his vest. “Let’s go.” I slung my sniper rifle and, keeping in cover, moved down the cliff’s pathway and entered the foliage of the forest to rendezvous with my team, Jim close on my heels.
The forest was dark, the canopy blocking out the dim moonlight, but my natural night vision solved the problem. As we padded silently between the trees, I couldn’t help but appreciate the scent of green. Something was wrong...I bared my teeth and raised my muzzle sniffing the air. Damned greenery blocked out anything amiss, but I heard a small crack, glimpsed a shimmer approaching like a ghost. I instinctively drew my sidearm with a practiced motion and fired at the center of mass, but the rounds glanced off an invisible shield. "Shit!" In a split second it was on to me, and I grappled desperately with it, Jim unable to get a clear shot. I drove a knee into my assailant, and with a shimmer it resolved into an alien. I had to admit, this was new. Command would be interested to know that the aliens had light-bending technology. Not to mention it was already bad enough that they beat us hands down in terms of weaponry, and now they had beat us in stealth, too! Despite my increase in height, the well-built alien towered over me.
This was the first time I had been so close to an alien, my role being a sniper, and I discerned clicking mandibles and yellow eyes, not unlike my own, but cold, hard, and calculating. Its tail, tipped with a dangerous-looking blade, jabbed towards me, and I dodged. The distraction was all it needed to literally grab and fling me, and I flew a metre before crashing into a tree, dazed. My helmet had fallen off, and I saw the alien draw its rifle as Jim opened fire, rounds deflected by an invisible shield, and I watched as the alien’s shields collapsed with a flash of light. Before Jim could finish the alien off, it leveled its rifle at him, and Jim ducked as the alien’s rifle discharged a bolt of plasma, setting alight the trees behind him. Jim fired full-auto into the brute, and with a pop and a flash its shield collapsed. Instead of retreating like I thought it would, it grabbed Jim around the neck and lifted him of the forest floor. Instinct took over and before I knew it I had leaped onto the alien and sunk my teeth into its shoulder with a savage snarl, feeling blood spurt past my face. I drew a combat knife and plunged it into the alien's neck, pushing it up to the hilt, and the monster finally fell. I rose to my feet, drew my pistol and fired a round between its eyes, just in case.
I spat on the ground, blood dripping from my muzzle, then looked up to see that Jim was staring at me. “What?” As I got up, my radio crackled with static and Sam, Sierra-one yelled over the COM, “Sierra-four and –five, come in, we are at the extraction point, get over here, over!” “Affirmative,” I replied. Jim waited tensely as I grabbed my helmet and put it on before bounding off into the forest. Suddenly, a triumphant roar sounded behind us: I turned around as a mass of enemies opened fire on us, plasma fire shredding and igniting the foliage. I tucked and rolled to the ground to avoid the fire, but Jim was a second too slow. He was hit in a dozen places by the searing plasma, and he howled in agony. “No!” I screamed, watching as my best friend tumbled to the ground in a lifeless heap, wisps of smoke rising and the acrid scent of burnt flesh hanging in the air.
I belly-crawled desperately towards his motionless form, hoping, praying that there might be a sign of life, a sign that I hadn't lost my best friend...He was still alive. The plasma had caused horrific internal damage and Jim coughed, releasing a spray of blood. "Jim...Hold on. I'll get you out of here." I held his hand, but he gasped,"No...no you won't. Send me out...with a bang." And then he was gone. Cold. Limp. His biosigns, displayed in a corner of my heads-up display, had flatlined. I looked at him, and suddenly had a manic urge to turn around and shoot everyone until I was dead, to go down swinging and join Jim. Then training clicked on full force and I mentally grabbed my grief and stuffed it into a holding area. I grabbed Jim's rifle and ran, weaving in and out of the trees as plasma tore past me. One bolt splashed across my back, and searing pain spread from the wound, but I ignored it. I twisted around and fired a burst of rounds into the foliage, but the rifle clacked-empty. I dropped it and tossed a grenade behind me. A low thump, and then a flurry of alien screams the grenade detonated.
I emerged into a clearing and saw the Golden Eagle dropship, engines thundering and the rest of the team already inside. Sam manned the chaingun and he provided cover fire as I clambered onboard. “Where’s Sierra-five?” he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the deafening roar of the dropship’s engines. “KIA,” I shouted back, feeling oddly hollow, but he did not reply. As the dropship lifted off, bolts of wildly fired plasma shot past, and Sam angled the chaingun down and returned fire. When we were far enough away, Sam retrieved a small, cylindrical detonator from a pocket. He looked at it, paused, thumb already on the “Inferno” button, then passed it to me. “Your turn to do the honours.” I held it in a hand, feeling the warm metal. Send me out...with a bang. I pressed the button down firmly, and a split second later, the city exploded outwards, the shock wave rolling outwards and flattening the forest in which Jim had lain. Another second later, and a wave of heat rolled outwards, incinerating the city and the forest around it. It was done, I thought. Game over, you alien bastards. Then the grief over Jim’s death spilled over, tears flowing unrestrained into my fur as I mourned my best friend. Sam placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I looked up into his lupine features, feral yet somehow soft, and was grateful for the gesture.