Under The Cover of Darkness
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: WolfyDrake95 | |
{{#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
}}
}}
}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
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 criticsm I'll get better. Hope you guys can comment and give me suggestions: after all, I'm only a beginner!
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“I can do better than that!” I growled, berating myself angrily. “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, misjudging the alien’s movement. The alien I had targeted 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 couldn’t see its features through its armor, but I realized it was saying something! 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. 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. I remembered the first day of the invasion, where aliens had first appeared in-system out of nowhere and landed on Pluto and slaughtered the helpless colonists there before Earth could send reinforcements over. Now, after a decade of pushing their way towards Earth, they had finally launched an offensive on Earth itself and captured a major city in North America. And as usual, Strike Team Sierra, us, had been sent in under the cover of darkness. This wasn’t the usual run-and-gun missions: the enemy had massed in the city, and slaughtered the hapless civilians. 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 disengaged the empty magazine and locked in a new one with a practiced motion. I then 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, 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, 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 crawled over to Jim and grabbed a biomesh from a medical kit. Pulling off his vest, I parted the matted fur and carefully placed it over the plasma wound, and after a moment the mesh stopped the bleeding. “Are you OK?” I asked, concerned. “Just a flesh wound,” Jim grunted, shrugging on his vest. “Let’s go.” Watching my team, I saw them returning fire at the mass of enemies as they retreated into the forest. Somebody tossed an energy grenade at the incoming tide of enemies, and a bright flash vaporized a couple of the aliens. 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. Startled out of my musing by a soft shuffle that my triangular ears picked up, I whirled around—and saw a ghostlike shimmer. I instinctively drew my sidearm with a practiced motion and fired at the center of its mass, but the rounds glanced off. 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. I leapt upon the alien with a savage snarl and sank my teeth into its neck, ignoring the acrid taste of alien blood, and drew a combat knife, flicked it on and stabbed it through the alien’s shielding and into its chest. Blood spurted from the lethal blow and the brute stiffened and fell to the leaf-covered ground.
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 and watched 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. 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. I have to be tactical, I thought abruptly. Jim wouldn’t want me to do that. What would he say? He’d call me an idiot. Then training clicked on full force and I mentally grabbed my grief and stuffed it into a holding area within my mind. I turned 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 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. “He’s dead,” 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. 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. Try again next time. 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 was grateful for the gesture.