From the Author: A story I've been sitting on for a loooong time. Originally written many years ago and my first attempt at writing my book, but it has since been scrapped. This is supposed to be the first chapter and now I've revived it for your enjoyment. I did my best to edit it and corrected it to fit the current storyline. Enjoy. 19092012.
All wars are civil wars because all men are brothers. - Francois Fenelon
SC: Blood on My Hands
0333 EST, 14 Nov 2085 Commercial District, New Eden, Mars [Sol]
A giant sandstorm covered the Martian capital with a dense red cloud of swirling sand and rust. Two generations of colonists labored tirelessly to revive this dead world with much success, but they’re efforts could not tame Mars freak storms. Sandstorms on Mars are far worst then any on Earth and tended to engulf the entire planet for months. The colonists long ago adapted to the massive sandstorms on Mars and theses storms no longer were the killers they once were in the earliest days. In the first days the colonists were forced underground, but as time passed and the technology improved, the colonists soon built cities on the surface. Martian cities resembled the great cities of Earth before the Great War left them in ruin. These Martian skyscrapers were built to withstand the hurricane force winds of Mars sandstorms and provide its inhabitants with an Earth-like atmosphere. Within its protective shell the people of Mars slept, but within the swirling vortex of the storm a vessel crept towards the city. The only evidence of its approach was the sight of sand and dust bouncing off the invisible intruder. The dense storm around the ship concealed it from the colonists numerous sensors and its invisibility shielded it from eyes on the ground. The ship flew low and slow and finally stopped above a medium sized building. It hovered silently above its roof and momentarily dropped its invisibility as a few dozen soldiers jumped from the ship unto the rooftop. Without wasting a moment the first of the soldiers planted a small explosive on the heavy titanium door that led inside the structure. The charge went off without a blast or light and the doors metal disintegrated. A hole appeared on the door and grew larger until the entire wall was gone. When the last soldier stepped off the ship, it quickly ascended and restealthed. Slowly flying in a wide circle around the building. A few of the soldiers set up sniping positions on the rooftop and the rest entered the structure as quickly and quietly as possible. The intruders were clad in black armor that covered their entire bodies, the armor was bulky but made from light weight super Kevlar. Underneath the armor was yet another suit that was fitted for every individual soldier and provided protection from Mars harsh environment. The soldiers black helmet had a red tinted visor that made them look like demons from hell, with red glowing eyes and scaly black skin. The kind of creatures you'd expect to storm the gates of heaven, these angels of death silently made their way down the building.
“Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. No contact with any hostiles as of yet. This building is not a part of the military base below the surface and is in fact a residential structure full of civilians. The roof is secured and we can reach the surface level with few civvies buying it. Advise with further orders,” the Lieutenant informed his commanding officer without breaking the silent creep down to the surface. Every soldiers armor had voice communication linking each other and the entire chain of command. The soldiers could speak loudly without fear of alerting the enemy since the armor prevented sound from escaping. “Papa Kilo this is Angel Fire. That’s a negative. Earth command wants this to be as painful as possible for the colonists. Limit weapons to knives and stay hidden. We are still landing troops in the area. Continue as planned and wait for the order to attack the target. Inform your men. I want you to bring the war to these cowards.” A voice within the Lieutenant helmet ordered him. “Everybody listen in. Orders from on high is to terminate any colonists we come in contact with. That includes civvies. Check those rifles and use only knives. We have to maintain surprise if we are to succeed on this mission, so continue as planned. This changes nothing. NCOs make sure it gets done,” the Lieutenant informed all of his soldiers. The Lieutenant immediately received a message on his helmets visor screen that everyone in his platoon understood the orders. “Alright. Wilson and Lee come with me, everyone else team up and clear the rooms. Lets do this quick.”
The two soldiers stood by the Lieutenant and immediately began working on opening the locked door, by disabling the apartments AI with their equipment. The door creaked open and all three entered the small one room apartment. The room although small had every available space occupied with the latest modern amenities. One wall had a large paper thin television that was still on. Giving the room a blue glow. The opposite wall housed a well stocked automated kitchen. At the far end of the room was the owners bed chamber along with large antique cabinets. The soldiers stood dumbfounded by the lavishness of the room. “LT, this man has more luxuries in his one room then I have in all of my building. Just look at all that food in his kitchen,” one soldier complained.
“Shut up, Sergeant Wilson. You two. Hold him down,” the Lieutenant ordered. The two black armored soldiers flanked the bed chamber and slowly reached out to the man sleeping on his bed. The Lieutenant took out a large black surrogated knife from the holster of his belt and held it in his right hand. The Lieutenant reached the foot of the bed and held the knife above his head angled toward the man below. Suddenly the two soldiers grabbed the mans limbs and held him pinned to his bed. The man resisted and opened his mouth as if, to scream for help, but the Lieutenant leaped on top of him. In one swift motion he plunged the knife deep into the hapless mans chest and muffed his cries for help with his other hand. The Colonist struggled under the weight of the Lieutenant and after a few brief moments he stopped fighting. The soldiers eased off the dead man and the Lieutenant pulled his knife from the Colonists chest. Cleaning off the blood on the dead mans sheets. The Lieutenant looked down at the dead mans pale face and was horrified by the look of sheer terror permanently fixed on his face. “Cover that up,” the Lieutenant told the soldiers with him.
“I can do better LT. Check this out.” Wilson pressed a button on the wall and the bed retreated into the floor and was replaced by a large metal desk. “The damn bed cleans itself. I just wish I could see the face of whoever finds him under those hospital folds.”
The Lieutenant left the room and backed out into the hallway as the two soldiers broke into laughter at Wilson’s wise crack. The laughter didn’t last long. A sound that was all to familiar to the soldiers shattered the silence and reverberated throughout the building. “What the hell was that?” The Lieutenant screamed to his platoon over the voice network. The Lieutenant and the two soldiers from the room raised their rifles toward the origin of the sound.
“Sir, this is Private Roca. One of the rooms we were clearing had a Colonist who was awake and armed. He took a shot at Wayne and we were forced to return fire,” Roca replied directly into the Lieutenants helmet. Immediately the Lieutenant was bombarded with messages from his commanding officer. “What the hell is going on down there Papa Kilo?! I specifically ordered you to check your goddamn rifles…” The Lieutenant ignored the voice screaming into his ear and then called out to his entire platoon. “Alright everyone. That sure as hell woke up the Colonists. Our cover is blown and so is our plan. Everyone not covering the roof meet at my position, were going down in force. Haul ass people. We need to move down to the surface quickly before the Colonists throw up a defense.”
Further down the dark hall in front of the Lieutenant, a woman bolted out of her room and was shredded by a wall of bullets. The woman fell to the floor in jagged pieces like a doll torn apart by a child. All around the sharp crack of rifle fire exploded throughout the residential building. The rest of the soldiers found their way to the Lieutenant, covered in blood. Their armor gleamed unnaturally in the poorly lit hall. Without saying a word they moved down the hall into the large stairway. The stairways was full of smoke and the red emergency lights flashed, providing very little illumination. The soldiers could see perfectly with the aid of their armor but the unfortunate colonists fleeing the building through the stairs didn’t see them. Colonists from the upper floors bumped into the soldiers and were hacked down with combat knives. Their bodies tossed down the side of the railing and crashing with a loud wet thud when it hit the ground level. The Colonists continued to move down the stairs in a somewhat orderly fashion. Helping each other down the smoke filled stairway, oblivious to the threat rapidly closing in on them. The soldiers moved down the stairs grabbing the stragglers, knifing them, and tossing them down the stairway with an efficiency of a factory assembly line. A timed grenade was tossed down the side of the rails and detonated a few flights down. There was no explosion just a large red pulse of light that caused dozens of colonists to stumble over each other. Immediately screams filled the stairway and a mad panic set in as the Colonists stampeded down the stairs. More grenades were tossed down the side and detonated on different floors. The effects of the grenades lingered for a few minutes after the detonation and those unlucky enough to fall into its invisible range died. A few Colonists tried unsuccessfully to jump from one floor to the next in attempt to get out of the stampede and others were pushed off the sides. Both ended with the same results. The sound of a human being tumbling down to ground level. Screaming. Their screams getting weaker the more they smash into the rails of the floors below, until they crash far below with a sound that literally shakes the building.
“Halt!” The Lieutenant stopped in the middle of the stairs and the soldiers behind him immediately stopped moving forward, most were experiencing an adrenaline rush from the slaughter and were anxious to continue. “Three meters forward and we're dead. The flight below is still hot from those Rupture grenades. Stop wasting them on civvies. Hold on.” The Lieutenant broke off talking to his platoon and opened a private line with his commanding officer. “Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. We have engaged the Colonists and are a few flights from ground level. No casualties among the American platoon, sending the platoons data. Please advise on the situation at ground level.”
“Papa Kilo this is Angel Fire. Your data has been received and your situation updated. Your platoon is the exception, the other four platoons are facing heavy resistance and taking heavy causalities. The Chinese platoon located 5 klicks south of your position, didn’t understand the orders and fired at the first Colonist they saw. Breaking the silence minutes before your men did and receiving the blunt of the Colonial welcoming committee. The French landed on a heavily armed munitions factory and are getting it bad. About 4 klicks west of your position the Russians have made it to the ground level and are currently sending us their data. The Israelis, well we lost contact with them a few minutes back. From the Angel Fire we can see the Colonists are bringing in reinforcements from all over the city and the main entrance to the Colonial base is being barricaded as we speak. So you and your men might have to find another way into the underground base.” The commanding officers voice went silent and the Lieutenant continued down the stairs. The stairway as they descended became more and more morbid the closer to the surface they were. The surface of the stairs became less steel and more flesh. The platoon soon were walking over piles of colonists. The colonists showed no sign of outside trauma, just slumped over each other in distorted positions only the dead could form. Their faces deformed and their eyes wide open and rolled back into their heads. The soldiers walked over the dead indifferent to the damage they did to the bodies under their boots. The sick sound of snapping bones filled the stairway. One soldier lost his footing and fell down the side of the stairs. He plummeted straight down to the surface more then ten flights below.
“Derek are you ok?!” One of the soldiers screamed into the voice network.
“He’s dead. His vital signs are in the red. Keep on moving the other platoons are getting slaughtered, and the Colonists are reinforcing their units in the area. And for god sakes, watch your footing from now on everyone, the stairs are getting slippery with fluids.” The Lieutenant told the entire platoon.
“From what?” a soldier fresh from BMT asked while looking around seeing no blood. “It’s a side effect of the Rupture bomb. The bombs detonate releasing a massive pulse of radiation that liquefies the inside of the body. The fluid seeping down the stairs is a mixture of excrement, liquefied entrails and gastric juices. It floods out of the body from every orifice, upon death when the muscles naturally relax.” Sergeant Wilson replied with glee.
“Derek slipped on crap? What kind of death is that?” a soldier within the platoon said out loud.
“Shut up, Heinz, lets keep focused.” the Lieutenant snapped back and continued down the stairs trudging over broken bodies. Once the platoon reached the surface level the soldiers fanned out across the blood splattered room. Their steps left a mark in the reddish goo covering the floors and the walls that once were human beings. The assorted body part was scattered about all over the surface floor with small chunks hanging high up on the walls. The room looked like an abattoir, a scene only the most violent of men could stand. The platoon searched the room for the body of their fallen comrade. They searched within the darkness, smoke and death. Within seconds they found his body in the center of the room. The black clad soldier fell on his back, caked in human flesh, from the Colonists that fell before him. The armor kept his body intact, but within his shell every bone was shattered. A few of the soldiers gathered around his body, paid their last respects and stripped him of his rifle.
“In death maybe he’ll be able to bag a few Colonists.” Private Heinz grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it and placed it under the dead soldiers body. The platoon cautiously exited the stairway into the buildings lobby. The first pair of soldiers dashed into the lobby, upon finding cover behind a pillar they positioned themselves to cover the approach for the next pair. The second pair ran and took the position of the first pair behind the pillar and covered the next pair as the first pair moved forward to the next pillar. Like clockwork the entire platoon was safely in the lobby within a minute. The lobby was a large room, roughly the size of an Olympic pool. The room had a dozen large marble pillars that resembled the pillars of the Pantheon. These pillars stood about 15 meters and reached the lobby’s high ceiling. The ceiling was white with the exception of the massive colonial seal centered high above the room. The seal contained a strange golden double headed falcon with two large wings pointing downward. The heads were pointed in opposite directions and the falcon itself had no details on it, only its golden silhouette. Below its heads was a long shield with an odd shape that appeared like an ancient atom bomb. The top part was blue and the bottom was split in two with red on the left and white on the right. Below the large wings two spikes extended out of the shield and paralleled the large wings, they seemed to be its legs sans the talons. Above the heads were five large stars that arched from the tip of one large wing to the other. The falcon rested on a green field encased in a ring of olive leafs with golden letters spelling out “Colonial Alliance- 2064- United Free from War and Tyranny.” On the white marble floor was miniature seals made from gold and scattered about the room were plush coaches and televisions. The large narrow windows that extended from the floor to the ceiling were covered by a metal shield to protect it from the raging sandstorm outside. The lobby had no power and was nearly pitch black. The only light came from the front door which was slightly ajar, letting in huge gusts of sand and light from outside. The Lieutenants helmet erupted to life with a frantic voice.
“Sir, this is Rodriguez. From the roof top we see about a dozen enemy soldiers racing towards the building. Shall we open fire?” “No. Hold your fire. Let them go in, we’ll take care of them. Fire on anyone that comes to their aid… Rodriguez any sign of the other platoons? I can’t seem to reach Angel Fire.” The Lieutenant responded.
“No sir. We don’t know if it’s the Colonists jamming our signals or the sandstorm screwing things up, but were blind right now. We don’t know where anyone is outside of our platoon and were having trouble keeping in contact with Angel Fire. As for visuals… even with our gear we really can’t see much in this shit.”
“Alright. Keep me posted.” The Lieutenant without making a sound moved to the front of his men taking cover behind the lobby’s security counter. Between the counter and the front door was a few yards of open space. “Platoon. We have twelve incoming.”
“Sir, there’s a Colonist still alive by the door. She’s crawling towards the door,” Sergeant Wilson said as he raised his rifle to shoot her. “Do it and I shoot you. If you shoot now even with the raging sandstorm the Colonial soldiers will hear the rifle burst and we’ll be sure to lose people.” The Lieutenant said raising his rifle toward Wilson. Immediately Wilson lowered his rifle and pointed it toward the open door. After a few uncomfortable seconds the door burst open and a grenade was tossed in. The Lieutenant braced himself and the grenade exploded releasing a massive bang that shook the entire room and a brilliant light that illuminated the entire room. Without hesitation a dozen Colonial soldiers stormed the lobby and with the flashlight mounted on their rifles swept the front of the lobby. They quickly found the woman who was still stunned by the flash bang grenade and shone the light on her. Her clothing was disheveled and she was bleeding profusely from her mouth and ears. She stared at them in utter shock and her mouth kept opening and closing as if to scream, but no sound came out. The Colonial soldiers turned their attention to her and one of them squatted down and began to administer first aid.
The Lieutenant nodded to his men and exactly at the same time the woman staring into the dark lobby let out a bone chilling scream, “Run!!!” The Colonial soldiers shifted their rifles back towards the dark lobby, but were too late. The Colonial soldiers were cut down by hundreds of bullets. Their bodies thrown back many meters slamming against the wall with a wet thud. No armor can withstand an assault of so many bullets and the bullets made messy work of its victims. Ten Colonial soldiers were smeared across the front lobby wall and two more lay wounded on the floor. The Colonial soldier who was giving the woman first aid moments before was riddled with bullets and even with his wounds shot at the dark clad soldiers. A powerful burst of light exited the Colonial soldiers rifle and blew out huge chunks off of a pillar. The other surviving Colonial soldier immediately took off running back out the open door into the raging sandstorm. The lone resisting Colonial soldier reached down to grab a grenade, but was shot to pieces before he could get it out. The room became silent and the entire platoon left their concealed positions and made their way to the front of the lobby.
“Look who’s still alive.” Sergeant Wilson said as he stood above the colonial woman. “Check this out she’s half dead. Her lower half has no heat signature. She must have met Mr. Rupture.” Then Wilson said “Hey you can’t play possum with me! You colonist coward.” Wilson didn’t conceal his voice and the woman clearly heard him. She screamed and with her arms frantically pulled her body toward the open door. “Ha ha, don’t run. Wait you can’t. Ha ha.” In one motion Wilson stepped on her legs, pulled her hair up and slid her throat with his large combat knife. A strange gurgle emitted from her mouth as she twitched and finally died.
“Wilson what the hell is the matter with you?” The Lieutenant yelled at him clearly disgusted.
“What?! She was dead anyways. I was doing her the favor.” Sergeant Wilson shrugged.
“Wilson I swear you keep pulling off shit like that and I will shoot you.” The Lieutenant snapped.
“What for? Killing a Colonist. That is what were here for right? Where were they when Earth was tearing itself apart? Where were they when America was under siege and its citizens lined up and shot in the streets? I’ll tell you. Right here. Hiding. Their solution was to secede from Earth and pretend nothing was going on. Well I’m bringing the war they missed out on to them.” Sergeant Wilson said annoyed.
“Sergeant I didn’t request a history lesson. I know perfectly well what the Colonists did. We have a mission and your wasting time with your stunts. Next time show discipline and just shoot her. Your not supposed to relish killing a woman. We have to…” the Lieutenant broke off as Rodriquez screamed into his helmet.
“Sir, we bagged a wounded soldier leaving the building and have come under sniper fire ourselves. A regiment size formation has formed up less then one klick from our position and seems to be waiting for armor. You all better start moving. SWEET JESUS! That was close! Sir, we're moving out of the roof right now we can’t hold it any longer.” The sound of rifle fire and laser fire could be heard over the voice network.
“Stay on the upper floors, use the windows, pop in and out of random ones taking pot shots at the colonists. If they start covering the windows blow out chunks of the walls and shoot from there. Try and keep them pinned at all costs.” The Lieutenant motioned for the platoon to exit the building and they went out in pairs just like before.
“Roger that sir,” Rodriquez replied.
The sandstorm outside hindered all the senses. The howling hurricane force winds made it impossible to hear anyone approaching and made even close rifle fire sound faint. The dense red swirling cloud of sand severely limited visibility to just a few meters. The armor the American soldiers wore helped them combat Mars harsh environment. The armor protected them from the wind and the stinging sand hurtling through it at 250 MPH. The armor provided oxygen to the soldiers, since it was impossible to breathe outside in a Martian sandstorm unaided. The fast moving wind snatched oxygen from a mans lung and invited in only choking red sand. The soldiers moved as quickly as they could straining under the massive pressure of the winds. Their boots were magnified and kept them from being blown away, originally designed for zero gravity combat they proved extremely useful. A combination of Colonial jamming and the effects of the sandstorm screwed up the platoons sensors and integrated network with the rest of the assault force. The soldiers switched from normal sight to heat sensory to be able to see further into the distance keeping no more then 5 meters apart from each other in a wedge formation. Their helmets displayed the location of every man in the platoon and if anyone saw anything the camera on their standard issued rifles immediately sent the images to the men nearby and the chain of command. The standard issued rifles the soldiers of Earth carried is the MAG-23b, it was a weapon perfected by the United States during the Third World War. The rifle is a rail gun that uses electromagnetic force to propel conductive projectiles with enough violent force to puncture steel. The rail gun concept was in its infancy before the Third World War and its daunting problems unresolved, but in war and comfort, mankind is a master of creativity. The original magnetic acceleration guns, which the rail gun is a member of, was limited to only naval vessels and space ships. Since the amount of electrical power needed to power the rifle was astronomical and the weapons needed constant repairs because of the constant wear and tear caused by the extreme heat and violent explosion of the weapons. Breakthroughs during the war allowed the shrinking of fusion reactors to AA battery like size and almost immediately they were used to power the rifles. The super conductive and extreme heat resistant metals used in the rifles construction was already available, but only reserved for space ships. After it became apparent that the war on Earth could only be won on the ground the US military allowed the construction of portable rail guns. The rail guns were superior to regular projectile weapons in every way. The MAG-23b with the absence of gunpowder and the moving parts of a regular projectile weapon could carry a vastly larger amount of bullets in its magazines. The lack of gunpowder and the chemical reaction needed to detonate the explosive force needed to shot a projectile came with the benefit of being used in every environment. The ancient projectile weapons needed oxygen to get the chemical reaction to work, which isn’t available on the Moon, Mars and the other colonies. The bullets of the rail gun are forced out at speeds of upwards of 4000 m/s and its large .33 caliber barrel made for a deadly rifle capable of puncturing all but the most advance super metal alloys. The MAG-23b weighed 12 pounds and was 3 feet in length from breech to muzzle. The rifles included a camera mounted on the muzzle in which the view could be sent directly to the chain of command or to the soldiers helmet. The rifle also had a small computer display on the stock of the rifle. The display provided the soldier with vital information on the status of the rifle, the number of rounds in the magazine and acted as a backup in case the soldiers targeting computer failed. The soldiers quickly crossed the street and one man in the front of the formation fell over on his face.
“Dinesh what was that?” The Lieutenant queried. The images of dead Colonists splayed on the sidewalk filled his helmet.
“I guess I didn’t see them, sir. They’ve been dead for a bit because they’re giving off almost no heat signature.” Dinesh responded. “They don’t seem to be shot. They must have fled the building in a panic and didn’t put any gear on.”
The platoon rapidly moved down a few city blocks without incident until they reached a massive clearing with a huge bunker door in the middle. The door was easily two stories tall and carved out of a rocky Martian hill. Around the bunker was four large heavily armed towers with a ten meter high wall. The soldier taking point was decimated by fire from one of the towers. A blinding flash of light raced from the tower to his body, obliterating everything above his knees. Only his boots stood, still clamped to the street by the magnetic force. The amount of heat emitting from the boots were though the roof and to the soldiers staring at it with their heat sensors it gave off a strange white glow. The platoon scattered and found cover anywhere they could. The tower kept shooting relentlessly, burning through cars to get to the soldiers hiding behind them. One by one the soldiers were being picked off. In the distance the door to the massive bunker opened and dozens of Colonial soldiers raced out. “Anyone have a Crusader?!” the Lieutenant screamed over the voice net. Immediately three names popped into his view.
“Alright have at it Lee. Everyone cover him!” The soldiers stood up and shot at the closest tower with their rifles. Private Lee hurried to the front with a large cylinder weapon. The Crusader was a 36 pound mobile missile launching monster, it carried five missiles that were essentially miniature nukes. Private Lee dropped to the floor and launched a missile, the entire platoon hit the ground and braced themselves. The missile flew directly to the tower and detonated in a blinding explosion that turned the night into day. The heat from the explosion followed a fraction of a second later and turned the red sand into tiny flakes of glass. Closely following the blast was the shock wave which knocked everyone off their feet, even those clamped to the ground with their magnetic boots. The Colonial soldiers who were moments ago charging towards the platoons position were now vaporized and only their shadows remained etched on the street. Three of the four towers were now a smoldering ruin, but the bunker itself was totally unscratched. The last standing tower, the furthest one from the platoons position stood silently and partially destroyed. The Americans crept closer to the bunker while keeping a watchful eye on the last tower. The entire area around the bunker door was still super hot and for a few moments glowed. The platoon reached the massive bunker door and two soldiers who also were combat engineers started looking for a way inside.
“Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. Come in Angel Fire. Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. Please respond,” the Lieutenant tried hailing his commanding officer but kept getting interference. “How’s the door coming?” the Lieutenant asked the two engineers inspecting the bunker door.
“This door is about 5 feet of carbon reinforced titanium and lead. Its going to take one hell of an explosion to even get it to open slightly. Sir, I suggest we take all our Crusader missiles and rig them to go off in unison. The explosion should be enough to crack it open.” A Sergeant First Class known as Frost informed the Lieutenant.
“We’ll be defenseless against heavy armor and ships without them. Is there no other way?” the Lieutenant asked.
“I’m afraid not sir.” Frost responded.
“Well then get on it right away.” The two engineers rounded up all the missiles and lined them up on the bunker door. They carefully took them apart and began getting ready to set up a stronger nuclear device. The platoon took positions in the rubble of the towers and almost as if on cue a regiment of Colonial soldiers moved cautiously toward the bunker door. They were followed by two truck sized hover tanks, which swayed wildly in the fierce winds yet still managed to stay afloat. The tanks silhouettes could be seen in the distance even through the dense sandstorm. The design of the tank hadn’t changed much since the beginning of the century only the technology. Tanks no longer were confined to the Earth, but hovered a few feet off the air. These tanks could pass over rivers and what was once impassable terrain with ease. They were maneuverable, heavily armored, extremely fast, and packed a lot of damage. With no air support and no real antitank weapons the platoon began to panic and discipline broke down as many shot wildly into the Colonial soldiers. The Colonists scattered and the tanks stopped, steadied and aimed. A massive bolt of energy arched across the air converting a large bubble of sand around its trajectory into glistening bits of glass. The blast overshot the American soldiers and hit the rocky hill, but still managed to take a couple of casualties. Two soldiers who were too close to the energy bolt were badly singed and their armor incapable of withstanding the intense heat, melting into their bodies. A second blast from the Colonial tanks quickly followed and landed directly on four soldiers killing them instantly. The Lieutenant raced from his cover across open ground and reached the partially intact fourth tower. He was followed by both Wilson and Lee. All three shot out the door and entered the tower. Its original occupants perished and laid bleeding on the controls. The Lieutenant tossed one of them to the floor and took out a small device from his belt and attached it to the tower controls. Outside the platoon was being bombarded by constant tank fire. With each successive blast one or two soldiers lost their lives and the Colonial soldiers creeping closer to their position to finish them off.
Suddenly the last tower came to life and released a volley of light that smashed into the tank on the far side and it erupted into flames. The wounded tank hovered erratically and shot wildly into the distance. One blast incinerated a group of Colonial soldiers and the tank finally came to a stop when the other tank took it out in one shot. The wounded tank crashed into the floor and exploded in a massive fireball that reached high into the Martian sky. The tower kept trying to hit the last standing tank with little luck. The Colonial tank dodged the attacks with ease and while it was moving it seemed obvious that it was aiming to take out the tower. The Americans inside the tower fled by jumping out a broken window. Down two stories to the relative safety of the ground. The tank shot the tower near its base and it fell over crashing into the ground.
“We rigged the Crusader missiles to blow.” Frost yelled over the voice network. “RETREAT. EVERYONE RETREAT. Move south. Niner niner foxtrot zero lima on your map.” The Lieutenant commanded to his platoon. His visor lit up as his men confirmed his command. His platoon once numbered forty three men, now was reduced to twenty four. He became overwhelmed by sadness, but quickly repressed his feelings for another day. The survivors broke contact and made a mad dash south away from the approaching Colonists. The open space free from cover and running against the hurricane force winds made them easy targets for the Colonists. The Lieutenant watched his soldiers vital signs in his visor drop off one by one. The Colonial tank moved forward at full speed, but stopped shooting since it didn’t want to hit any Colonists. The run down three city blocks were the longest of these Americans lives. Finally they reached a small depression on the ground and all jumped in and curled into a ball. “DETONATE. DETONATE THEM NOW!!!” the Lieutenant screamed to Frost. The Colonial soldiers reached the edge of the depression and began shooting at the American soldiers curled up below making short work of them. The Lieutenant felt an intense pain in his back and he knew he had been shot. The suit beneath his armor automatically contracted around his wound, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The pain became unbearable as his suit catalyzed the wound followed by intense pressure to further seal it. In agony he rolled on his back and watched as the Colonist who shot him raised his rifle again and lined his shot with his head. The Lieutenant mouthed a heart felt expletive and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he saw an unbelievably bright light in which he was sure was the mythical tunnel to heaven. He heard screams and a deafening roar unlike anything he had ever heard. The light he had seen before became pitch black and he felt his body being carried and finally crushed by an unknown object.
The Lieutenant opened his eyes, but saw nothing. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He could still hear the howling of the Martian winds, but it sounded distant. The lieutenant called out to his men on the voice net, “What’s everyone’s status? Sound off.” The voice network was soon filled by groans and screams of pain. The sound of crying and praying made the Lieutenant uneasy and he turned off the sound. He strained to move and finally broke through the rubble that covered him. He found himself covered in a fine white powder and the air still thick with rubble making it hard to see in any mode of vision. He staggered and walked in the direction of the howling winds. The Lieutenants helmet visor was malfunctioning and no information was being received. He had no idea how many men survived or where they were. The air started clearing up and he could make out light in the distance. The Lieutenant spotted two bodies in the rubble. The body closest to him was Corporal Jones, he was impaled by a steel beam. The Lieutenant searched his body for a weapon but found only grenades, which he salvaged. The second body was that of a Colonial soldier who was still clutching his rifle. The Lieutenant approached the body and tried to yank the rifle from the man’s hand, but he pounced on the Lieutenant. They both wrestled on the rubble for control of the rifle. A shot rang out temporarily illuminating the tunnel of rubble, the Colonist flew back and slammed against the wall. The Colonist clutched his dangling bleeding arm and slumped down to the ground. The Colonist lifted his head up as the Lieutenant raised the stolen rifle up to shoot the Colonist execution style in the face. The Colonist extended his hand out as if saying stop. The Lieutenant looked at the surrendering Colonial soldier in his red and pink camouflage uniform that signified he was in the Martian militia. The bleeding Colonial soldier wore a red helmet with a gold reflective visor that concealed his entire head. The Colonial soldier besides his helmet wore armor that only covered his chest and matched the red and pink camos underneath. The uniform was designed to make the colonial soldier look invisible out in the Martian surface, but this Colonist was covered in white ash and rubble so he stuck out like a sore thumb. The Lieutenant lowered the stolen rifle and staggered out of the rubble into the raging Martian sandstorm. The Lieutenants field of vision was small, but he could no longer see the silhouette of the massive skyscrapers around the bunker. All the Lieutenant could see was rubble, glass, ash, and red sand.
The Lieutenant turned on his helmets communication network and almost immediately Rodriquez said in a panic, “Sir, Angel Fire wants to know what the hell was that?”
“Nuclear explosion. Rodriquez my main computer is dead and I don’t know where the rest of my team or even how many are left alive. Can you tell me what’s going on?” The Lieutenant said to the sniper who was acting as a radioman for the Lieutenant.
“Sir, there are only ten men of your platoon left alive. They are scattered around your location and all seem to be wounded in one degree or another. Connecting you to Angel Fire.” Sergeant Rodriguez replied.
Heavy static filled the Lieutenants helmet until suddenly a worried voice asked, “De-Tierra are you ok?!”
The Lieutenant was surprised his commanding officer blurted out his name. The Lieutenant clutched his stomach as pain flared from the wound and he moaned in agony. The Lieutenant fell on his knees in pain and responded, “Angel Fire. I’m fine.”
“De-Tierra your vital signs are borderline red.”
“I said I’m fine!” the Lieutenant screamed. The Lieutenant removed a small syringe from a first aid kit he had strapped to his leg and plunged it into his wound. He injected the stimulant into his wound and dropped the empty syringe to the ground. His suit automatically repaired the puncture in his suit, but the Lieutenant didn’t feel it. His pain subsided and he asked his commanding officer, “Did the bunker door open?”
“That blast you created leveled every building in a two block radius and created a hole at least 15 meters in all directions in what was once the bunker. I’m reinforcing you with all I have left on the ground. The Russian and Israeli platoons should be there within a minute. The French are still pinned at that munitions plant and the entire Chinese platoon has bought it. I’ve notified your men to rally at your position. Enter the underground facility. Bring down the cities shields and get the hell out of there. Simple.”
The Lieutenant stood alone in the hurricane force winds of the Martian sandstorm when he spotted numerous shadows in the dense sandstorm. He watched as the last of his platoon staggered toward him. He was relieved that he wasn’t the only survivor, but everyone of his men were wounded. Their wounds varied from broken arms to missing limbs. The soldiers gathered together and moved swiftly forward towards the crater. As they reached the edge of the crater a barrage of bullets cut down a US soldier and he fell into the crater. The Americans hit the dirt as hundreds of bullets flew above their heads. The Lieutenant called out “SNAKE!!!”
Immediately the shooting stopped and the sound of people arguing in Russian could be heard. Finally a man yelled in broken English, “RATTLE!!! You respond with proper word!”
“I said ‘snake!’” the Lieutenant tried to stand, but again the shooting started. “What the hells the matter with you Russians? SNAKE!!! SNAKE!!! SNAKE!!!” The shooting stopped and the Russians argued once more amongst themselves. The Russians swiftly moved to the Americans position and started quizzing them in Russian. The Lieutenant looked around and spotted the highest ranking Russian soldier. “You knew we were in the area! Why didn’t you sound off with the call sign?!”
The Russian Master Sergeant was clad in a heavy brown and red metal armor, with a large red hammer and fist symbol on his shoulder, and with thin red ‘eyes’ on his helmet. The Russians still wore the uniforms they fought with when they fought against the Allies during the Great War. All the platoons wore the uniforms of the prior war since the uniforms of a united Earth was still not standard throughout Earth’s military. The Russian Master Sergeant stared the Lieutenant down and said in broken English, “You looked like colonist. We shoot.”
The Lieutenant gripped his stolen colonial rifle tightly and said “That’s bull and you know it. You killed two of my men.”
“You have gun of Colonist. You no in charge of…” The Russian Master Sergeant didn’t finish his sentence as Lieutenant De-Tierra shot him in the face. The Russian slumped forward and fell on the floor dead.
“I am now in charge. Any more shit and I’ll shot you. Lets finish this.” The Lieutenant moved forward towards the massive crater followed closely by his men. The Russians looked at their dead Master Sergeant and followed the Americans. The soldiers crawled over mountains of rubble and reached the mouth of the crater. The crater was fifty yards all around in the middle of what used to be a bunker door. The soldiers could see no bottom to the hole. Only darkness. The Lieutenant tossed a grenade down into the crater and watched as it exploded and illuminated the darkness. “That’s only a fifteen foot drop. We can make it. The wounded stay up here and guard the opening.” The Lieutenant removed a small object from his belt and flung it high into the air. The object was a small gray cylinder and it disappeared into the sandstorm. “The beacon is away. We have fifteen minutes before our bird comes to pick us up. Those staying up here be aware that the Israelis should be moments away. Try not to shot at them. Have them help hold this position.” The Lieutenant De-Tierra motioned to one of the Russian soldiers and signaled to him with his hands his orders. The Russian soldier repeated it to his comrades in Russian. The Lieutenant jumped into the hole and landed on his feet in the middle of a corridor. Intense pain raced through his body and he screamed. His armor concealed the sound of his screams. He felt as if his wound had ruptured. The Lieutenant staggered down the dark corridor followed by a mixed platoon of American and Russian soldiers who just dropped into the hole.
“You alright LT?,” asked Private Frost. He grabbed the Lieutenants arm trying to help straighten him. The Lieutenant shook his arm from his grip and leveled his rifle and shot down the corridor.
Two bolts of light streaked from his rifle and hit a colonial soldier. The platoon broke into a run and ran past the still smoldering Colonist, following the Lieutenant who was using all of his strength to make a mad dash to his objective. He ran limping down the maze of dark corridors. He felt like he was here before, he didn’t pay attention to the fighting erupting all around him as the Colonists resisted tooth and nail to protect the shield generator. His all consuming thought was to destroy the generator. Nothing else mattered to him. The Lieutenant saw a Colonist in a white lab coat in the corner of his eye and changed directions to follow him. He pushed himself as hard as he could. With each step he felt closer to death. The scientist was frantically punching in a code on a door. The Lieutenant just shot him in the leg. Completely shearing his left leg off above the ankle. The scientist clutched on the now open door and tried to enter the room. The Lieutenant shot the scientists left arm clear off with his stolen laser rifle. De-Tierra removed his helmet and spoke to the dying Colonial scientist, “where is the generator?”
“You’re a monster! You’ll kill millions!” The scientist cried out as he lay bleeding to death. The Lieutenant looked at the sign above the door and it was marked…
<<<MARTIAN COLONIAL CONTROL PSG-1>>>
De-Tierra stepped over the weeping scientist and looked behind himself and realized he was alone. His soldiers were gone, but he heard gunfire echoing down throughout the underground complex. He knew his men were still fighting so he continued on to the room alone. The room was a massive cavern of computers and displays. The floor was metal grating and below it he could see the massive shield generators that protected the Martian capital from orbital bombardment. The Lieutenant cautiously advanced and saw the shield technicians cowering behind their chairs. A few were weeping and he paid no attention to them, he was busy removing a large blue cylinder from his pack. The Lieutenant was so focused on the cylinder that he didn’t notice a technician with a pipe sneaking behind him. De-Tierra looked up checking one of the computers displays and spotted the pipe swinging in the air. He tried to dodge the blow but instead of smashing his skull it hit his back with a force that knocked him down. All the technicians who were cowering before raced toward him. De-Tierra rowed on his back and released a salvo of laser fire that blew out the guts of the pipe yielding technician.
“Don’t let him bring down the shields!”
“Get his rifle!”
“God help us!” The technicians mouthed their prayers aloud and tossed themselves on the Lieutenant. He struggled under their combined weight and shot his rifle wildly. The heat from the blast singed the technicians, but they continued fighting. The technicians held down the arm with the rifle and were attempting to peel his fingers from the rifle. The Lieutenant rolled the blue cylinder away from the struggle and reached for a grenade. Before the technicians realized what he was doing he had the grenade primed and pressed it against one of the technicians. The Grenade exploded with a blinding light that left everyone stunned and splayed on top of him. The Lieutenant recovered rapidly because of his superior training and his armor which absorbed the brunt of the blast from the concussion grenade. De-Tierra unsheathed his black knife and easily dispatched the technicians. The Lieutenant tossed the dead technicians off of his body. He struggled to stand up and used the closest control panel to support his body. De-Tierra scanned the room with his eye and quickly found the blue cylinder he had tossed earlier. The Lieutenant retrieved the cylinder and placed it on top of a control panel. He said out loud, “Adresperascit” and watched as the cylinder began to glow. A metallic liquid seeped from the cylinder and moved along the panel entering every crevice. The liquid quickly spread across the room into every computer, it moved as if it had a mind of its own. The lights flickered and all the computer monitors turned to static. Almost immediately the ground shook beneath the Lieutenant and he almost fell on his face. He left behind his weapons and retreated the way he came. The corridor was now pitch black and shook violently every few seconds. He finally reached the crater and looked up at the raging sandstorm above. “This is Lieutenant De-Tierra! Anyone up there?!”
Finally standing still, the pain he suppressed before now overwhelmed his body. His body screamed for air. He was now exposed to the Martian atmosphere without his helmet. The Lieutenant collapsed unconscious on the floor. He awoke a few seconds later outside of the crater on a stretcher with an oxygen mask on. De-Tierra was being administered first aid by a medic in a US uniform, but he spoke in a language he had never heard before. A soldier with a strange rank of one chevron and a Star of David on his arm crawled to the Lieutenants position and quickly exchanged a few words with the medic. “Sir, I am Rav Samál Mitkadém Avi of the Yahsar Nahal, Israeli Defense Force. My rank is equal to your sergeant major. I took command when I arrived with my platoon to this crater. We repelled three Colonial attacks and all the surviving Earth forces are holding a perimeter around this crater. The numbers aren’t official but the French and Chinese platoons have been wiped out. The Russians are at half strength along with my platoon. Sir, your platoon is as bad as your condition, it’s all chewed up. We have to get you out of here soon or you’ll die.”
The Lieutenant could feel himself being hoisted into the air. He phased in and out of consciousness as the Israelis placed him inside a transport ship that seemed to arrive out of thin air. The transport was full of severely wounded soldiers the walking wounded was strapped into seats on the walls of the transport. On the far end of the transport the bodies of the dead were stacked neatly on top of each other like a stack of logs. A medic secured the Lieutenants stretcher and quickly moved on to the other wounded to check their straps. The ship shook violently and it lurched upwards. The medic fell backwards striking his head on the ceiling and tumbling to the rear of the transports hold. Moans and screams of anguish filled the room as the transport jerked in all directions. The Lieutenant felt as if his chest exploded when the ship seemed to flip upside down. The straps that prevented him from failing down were now pressing on his wounds with the weight of his body. The Lieutenant watched as the ceiling filled with the blood of the dead and wounded. The transport pitched downward and rapidly righted itself. The pools of blood rained down and the Lieutenant whispered a final prayer. De-Tierra passed out before he could finish it.
All wars are civil wars because all men are brothers. - Francois Fenelon
SC: Blood on My Hands
0333 EST, 14 Nov 2085 Commercial District, New Eden, Mars [Sol]
A giant sandstorm covered the Martian capital with a dense red cloud of swirling sand and rust. Two generations of colonists labored tirelessly to revive this dead world with much success, but they’re efforts could not tame Mars freak storms. Sandstorms on Mars are far worst then any on Earth and tended to engulf the entire planet for months. The colonists long ago adapted to the massive sandstorms on Mars and theses storms no longer were the killers they once were in the earliest days. In the first days the colonists were forced underground, but as time passed and the technology improved, the colonists soon built cities on the surface. Martian cities resembled the great cities of Earth before the Great War left them in ruin. These Martian skyscrapers were built to withstand the hurricane force winds of Mars sandstorms and provide its inhabitants with an Earth-like atmosphere. Within its protective shell the people of Mars slept, but within the swirling vortex of the storm a vessel crept towards the city. The only evidence of its approach was the sight of sand and dust bouncing off the invisible intruder. The dense storm around the ship concealed it from the colonists numerous sensors and its invisibility shielded it from eyes on the ground. The ship flew low and slow and finally stopped above a medium sized building. It hovered silently above its roof and momentarily dropped its invisibility as a few dozen soldiers jumped from the ship unto the rooftop. Without wasting a moment the first of the soldiers planted a small explosive on the heavy titanium door that led inside the structure. The charge went off without a blast or light and the doors metal disintegrated. A hole appeared on the door and grew larger until the entire wall was gone. When the last soldier stepped off the ship, it quickly ascended and restealthed. Slowly flying in a wide circle around the building. A few of the soldiers set up sniping positions on the rooftop and the rest entered the structure as quickly and quietly as possible. The intruders were clad in black armor that covered their entire bodies, the armor was bulky but made from light weight super Kevlar. Underneath the armor was yet another suit that was fitted for every individual soldier and provided protection from Mars harsh environment. The soldiers black helmet had a red tinted visor that made them look like demons from hell, with red glowing eyes and scaly black skin. The kind of creatures you'd expect to storm the gates of heaven, these angels of death silently made their way down the building.
“Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. No contact with any hostiles as of yet. This building is not a part of the military base below the surface and is in fact a residential structure full of civilians. The roof is secured and we can reach the surface level with few civvies buying it. Advise with further orders,” the Lieutenant informed his commanding officer without breaking the silent creep down to the surface. Every soldiers armor had voice communication linking each other and the entire chain of command. The soldiers could speak loudly without fear of alerting the enemy since the armor prevented sound from escaping. “Papa Kilo this is Angel Fire. That’s a negative. Earth command wants this to be as painful as possible for the colonists. Limit weapons to knives and stay hidden. We are still landing troops in the area. Continue as planned and wait for the order to attack the target. Inform your men. I want you to bring the war to these cowards.” A voice within the Lieutenant helmet ordered him. “Everybody listen in. Orders from on high is to terminate any colonists we come in contact with. That includes civvies. Check those rifles and use only knives. We have to maintain surprise if we are to succeed on this mission, so continue as planned. This changes nothing. NCOs make sure it gets done,” the Lieutenant informed all of his soldiers. The Lieutenant immediately received a message on his helmets visor screen that everyone in his platoon understood the orders. “Alright. Wilson and Lee come with me, everyone else team up and clear the rooms. Lets do this quick.”
The two soldiers stood by the Lieutenant and immediately began working on opening the locked door, by disabling the apartments AI with their equipment. The door creaked open and all three entered the small one room apartment. The room although small had every available space occupied with the latest modern amenities. One wall had a large paper thin television that was still on. Giving the room a blue glow. The opposite wall housed a well stocked automated kitchen. At the far end of the room was the owners bed chamber along with large antique cabinets. The soldiers stood dumbfounded by the lavishness of the room. “LT, this man has more luxuries in his one room then I have in all of my building. Just look at all that food in his kitchen,” one soldier complained.
“Shut up, Sergeant Wilson. You two. Hold him down,” the Lieutenant ordered. The two black armored soldiers flanked the bed chamber and slowly reached out to the man sleeping on his bed. The Lieutenant took out a large black surrogated knife from the holster of his belt and held it in his right hand. The Lieutenant reached the foot of the bed and held the knife above his head angled toward the man below. Suddenly the two soldiers grabbed the mans limbs and held him pinned to his bed. The man resisted and opened his mouth as if, to scream for help, but the Lieutenant leaped on top of him. In one swift motion he plunged the knife deep into the hapless mans chest and muffed his cries for help with his other hand. The Colonist struggled under the weight of the Lieutenant and after a few brief moments he stopped fighting. The soldiers eased off the dead man and the Lieutenant pulled his knife from the Colonists chest. Cleaning off the blood on the dead mans sheets. The Lieutenant looked down at the dead mans pale face and was horrified by the look of sheer terror permanently fixed on his face. “Cover that up,” the Lieutenant told the soldiers with him.
“I can do better LT. Check this out.” Wilson pressed a button on the wall and the bed retreated into the floor and was replaced by a large metal desk. “The damn bed cleans itself. I just wish I could see the face of whoever finds him under those hospital folds.”
The Lieutenant left the room and backed out into the hallway as the two soldiers broke into laughter at Wilson’s wise crack. The laughter didn’t last long. A sound that was all to familiar to the soldiers shattered the silence and reverberated throughout the building. “What the hell was that?” The Lieutenant screamed to his platoon over the voice network. The Lieutenant and the two soldiers from the room raised their rifles toward the origin of the sound.
“Sir, this is Private Roca. One of the rooms we were clearing had a Colonist who was awake and armed. He took a shot at Wayne and we were forced to return fire,” Roca replied directly into the Lieutenants helmet. Immediately the Lieutenant was bombarded with messages from his commanding officer. “What the hell is going on down there Papa Kilo?! I specifically ordered you to check your goddamn rifles…” The Lieutenant ignored the voice screaming into his ear and then called out to his entire platoon. “Alright everyone. That sure as hell woke up the Colonists. Our cover is blown and so is our plan. Everyone not covering the roof meet at my position, were going down in force. Haul ass people. We need to move down to the surface quickly before the Colonists throw up a defense.”
Further down the dark hall in front of the Lieutenant, a woman bolted out of her room and was shredded by a wall of bullets. The woman fell to the floor in jagged pieces like a doll torn apart by a child. All around the sharp crack of rifle fire exploded throughout the residential building. The rest of the soldiers found their way to the Lieutenant, covered in blood. Their armor gleamed unnaturally in the poorly lit hall. Without saying a word they moved down the hall into the large stairway. The stairways was full of smoke and the red emergency lights flashed, providing very little illumination. The soldiers could see perfectly with the aid of their armor but the unfortunate colonists fleeing the building through the stairs didn’t see them. Colonists from the upper floors bumped into the soldiers and were hacked down with combat knives. Their bodies tossed down the side of the railing and crashing with a loud wet thud when it hit the ground level. The Colonists continued to move down the stairs in a somewhat orderly fashion. Helping each other down the smoke filled stairway, oblivious to the threat rapidly closing in on them. The soldiers moved down the stairs grabbing the stragglers, knifing them, and tossing them down the stairway with an efficiency of a factory assembly line. A timed grenade was tossed down the side of the rails and detonated a few flights down. There was no explosion just a large red pulse of light that caused dozens of colonists to stumble over each other. Immediately screams filled the stairway and a mad panic set in as the Colonists stampeded down the stairs. More grenades were tossed down the side and detonated on different floors. The effects of the grenades lingered for a few minutes after the detonation and those unlucky enough to fall into its invisible range died. A few Colonists tried unsuccessfully to jump from one floor to the next in attempt to get out of the stampede and others were pushed off the sides. Both ended with the same results. The sound of a human being tumbling down to ground level. Screaming. Their screams getting weaker the more they smash into the rails of the floors below, until they crash far below with a sound that literally shakes the building.
“Halt!” The Lieutenant stopped in the middle of the stairs and the soldiers behind him immediately stopped moving forward, most were experiencing an adrenaline rush from the slaughter and were anxious to continue. “Three meters forward and we're dead. The flight below is still hot from those Rupture grenades. Stop wasting them on civvies. Hold on.” The Lieutenant broke off talking to his platoon and opened a private line with his commanding officer. “Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. We have engaged the Colonists and are a few flights from ground level. No casualties among the American platoon, sending the platoons data. Please advise on the situation at ground level.”
“Papa Kilo this is Angel Fire. Your data has been received and your situation updated. Your platoon is the exception, the other four platoons are facing heavy resistance and taking heavy causalities. The Chinese platoon located 5 klicks south of your position, didn’t understand the orders and fired at the first Colonist they saw. Breaking the silence minutes before your men did and receiving the blunt of the Colonial welcoming committee. The French landed on a heavily armed munitions factory and are getting it bad. About 4 klicks west of your position the Russians have made it to the ground level and are currently sending us their data. The Israelis, well we lost contact with them a few minutes back. From the Angel Fire we can see the Colonists are bringing in reinforcements from all over the city and the main entrance to the Colonial base is being barricaded as we speak. So you and your men might have to find another way into the underground base.” The commanding officers voice went silent and the Lieutenant continued down the stairs. The stairway as they descended became more and more morbid the closer to the surface they were. The surface of the stairs became less steel and more flesh. The platoon soon were walking over piles of colonists. The colonists showed no sign of outside trauma, just slumped over each other in distorted positions only the dead could form. Their faces deformed and their eyes wide open and rolled back into their heads. The soldiers walked over the dead indifferent to the damage they did to the bodies under their boots. The sick sound of snapping bones filled the stairway. One soldier lost his footing and fell down the side of the stairs. He plummeted straight down to the surface more then ten flights below.
“Derek are you ok?!” One of the soldiers screamed into the voice network.
“He’s dead. His vital signs are in the red. Keep on moving the other platoons are getting slaughtered, and the Colonists are reinforcing their units in the area. And for god sakes, watch your footing from now on everyone, the stairs are getting slippery with fluids.” The Lieutenant told the entire platoon.
“From what?” a soldier fresh from BMT asked while looking around seeing no blood. “It’s a side effect of the Rupture bomb. The bombs detonate releasing a massive pulse of radiation that liquefies the inside of the body. The fluid seeping down the stairs is a mixture of excrement, liquefied entrails and gastric juices. It floods out of the body from every orifice, upon death when the muscles naturally relax.” Sergeant Wilson replied with glee.
“Derek slipped on crap? What kind of death is that?” a soldier within the platoon said out loud.
“Shut up, Heinz, lets keep focused.” the Lieutenant snapped back and continued down the stairs trudging over broken bodies. Once the platoon reached the surface level the soldiers fanned out across the blood splattered room. Their steps left a mark in the reddish goo covering the floors and the walls that once were human beings. The assorted body part was scattered about all over the surface floor with small chunks hanging high up on the walls. The room looked like an abattoir, a scene only the most violent of men could stand. The platoon searched the room for the body of their fallen comrade. They searched within the darkness, smoke and death. Within seconds they found his body in the center of the room. The black clad soldier fell on his back, caked in human flesh, from the Colonists that fell before him. The armor kept his body intact, but within his shell every bone was shattered. A few of the soldiers gathered around his body, paid their last respects and stripped him of his rifle.
“In death maybe he’ll be able to bag a few Colonists.” Private Heinz grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it and placed it under the dead soldiers body. The platoon cautiously exited the stairway into the buildings lobby. The first pair of soldiers dashed into the lobby, upon finding cover behind a pillar they positioned themselves to cover the approach for the next pair. The second pair ran and took the position of the first pair behind the pillar and covered the next pair as the first pair moved forward to the next pillar. Like clockwork the entire platoon was safely in the lobby within a minute. The lobby was a large room, roughly the size of an Olympic pool. The room had a dozen large marble pillars that resembled the pillars of the Pantheon. These pillars stood about 15 meters and reached the lobby’s high ceiling. The ceiling was white with the exception of the massive colonial seal centered high above the room. The seal contained a strange golden double headed falcon with two large wings pointing downward. The heads were pointed in opposite directions and the falcon itself had no details on it, only its golden silhouette. Below its heads was a long shield with an odd shape that appeared like an ancient atom bomb. The top part was blue and the bottom was split in two with red on the left and white on the right. Below the large wings two spikes extended out of the shield and paralleled the large wings, they seemed to be its legs sans the talons. Above the heads were five large stars that arched from the tip of one large wing to the other. The falcon rested on a green field encased in a ring of olive leafs with golden letters spelling out “Colonial Alliance- 2064- United Free from War and Tyranny.” On the white marble floor was miniature seals made from gold and scattered about the room were plush coaches and televisions. The large narrow windows that extended from the floor to the ceiling were covered by a metal shield to protect it from the raging sandstorm outside. The lobby had no power and was nearly pitch black. The only light came from the front door which was slightly ajar, letting in huge gusts of sand and light from outside. The Lieutenants helmet erupted to life with a frantic voice.
“Sir, this is Rodriguez. From the roof top we see about a dozen enemy soldiers racing towards the building. Shall we open fire?” “No. Hold your fire. Let them go in, we’ll take care of them. Fire on anyone that comes to their aid… Rodriguez any sign of the other platoons? I can’t seem to reach Angel Fire.” The Lieutenant responded.
“No sir. We don’t know if it’s the Colonists jamming our signals or the sandstorm screwing things up, but were blind right now. We don’t know where anyone is outside of our platoon and were having trouble keeping in contact with Angel Fire. As for visuals… even with our gear we really can’t see much in this shit.”
“Alright. Keep me posted.” The Lieutenant without making a sound moved to the front of his men taking cover behind the lobby’s security counter. Between the counter and the front door was a few yards of open space. “Platoon. We have twelve incoming.”
“Sir, there’s a Colonist still alive by the door. She’s crawling towards the door,” Sergeant Wilson said as he raised his rifle to shoot her. “Do it and I shoot you. If you shoot now even with the raging sandstorm the Colonial soldiers will hear the rifle burst and we’ll be sure to lose people.” The Lieutenant said raising his rifle toward Wilson. Immediately Wilson lowered his rifle and pointed it toward the open door. After a few uncomfortable seconds the door burst open and a grenade was tossed in. The Lieutenant braced himself and the grenade exploded releasing a massive bang that shook the entire room and a brilliant light that illuminated the entire room. Without hesitation a dozen Colonial soldiers stormed the lobby and with the flashlight mounted on their rifles swept the front of the lobby. They quickly found the woman who was still stunned by the flash bang grenade and shone the light on her. Her clothing was disheveled and she was bleeding profusely from her mouth and ears. She stared at them in utter shock and her mouth kept opening and closing as if to scream, but no sound came out. The Colonial soldiers turned their attention to her and one of them squatted down and began to administer first aid.
The Lieutenant nodded to his men and exactly at the same time the woman staring into the dark lobby let out a bone chilling scream, “Run!!!” The Colonial soldiers shifted their rifles back towards the dark lobby, but were too late. The Colonial soldiers were cut down by hundreds of bullets. Their bodies thrown back many meters slamming against the wall with a wet thud. No armor can withstand an assault of so many bullets and the bullets made messy work of its victims. Ten Colonial soldiers were smeared across the front lobby wall and two more lay wounded on the floor. The Colonial soldier who was giving the woman first aid moments before was riddled with bullets and even with his wounds shot at the dark clad soldiers. A powerful burst of light exited the Colonial soldiers rifle and blew out huge chunks off of a pillar. The other surviving Colonial soldier immediately took off running back out the open door into the raging sandstorm. The lone resisting Colonial soldier reached down to grab a grenade, but was shot to pieces before he could get it out. The room became silent and the entire platoon left their concealed positions and made their way to the front of the lobby.
“Look who’s still alive.” Sergeant Wilson said as he stood above the colonial woman. “Check this out she’s half dead. Her lower half has no heat signature. She must have met Mr. Rupture.” Then Wilson said “Hey you can’t play possum with me! You colonist coward.” Wilson didn’t conceal his voice and the woman clearly heard him. She screamed and with her arms frantically pulled her body toward the open door. “Ha ha, don’t run. Wait you can’t. Ha ha.” In one motion Wilson stepped on her legs, pulled her hair up and slid her throat with his large combat knife. A strange gurgle emitted from her mouth as she twitched and finally died.
“Wilson what the hell is the matter with you?” The Lieutenant yelled at him clearly disgusted.
“What?! She was dead anyways. I was doing her the favor.” Sergeant Wilson shrugged.
“Wilson I swear you keep pulling off shit like that and I will shoot you.” The Lieutenant snapped.
“What for? Killing a Colonist. That is what were here for right? Where were they when Earth was tearing itself apart? Where were they when America was under siege and its citizens lined up and shot in the streets? I’ll tell you. Right here. Hiding. Their solution was to secede from Earth and pretend nothing was going on. Well I’m bringing the war they missed out on to them.” Sergeant Wilson said annoyed.
“Sergeant I didn’t request a history lesson. I know perfectly well what the Colonists did. We have a mission and your wasting time with your stunts. Next time show discipline and just shoot her. Your not supposed to relish killing a woman. We have to…” the Lieutenant broke off as Rodriquez screamed into his helmet.
“Sir, we bagged a wounded soldier leaving the building and have come under sniper fire ourselves. A regiment size formation has formed up less then one klick from our position and seems to be waiting for armor. You all better start moving. SWEET JESUS! That was close! Sir, we're moving out of the roof right now we can’t hold it any longer.” The sound of rifle fire and laser fire could be heard over the voice network.
“Stay on the upper floors, use the windows, pop in and out of random ones taking pot shots at the colonists. If they start covering the windows blow out chunks of the walls and shoot from there. Try and keep them pinned at all costs.” The Lieutenant motioned for the platoon to exit the building and they went out in pairs just like before.
“Roger that sir,” Rodriquez replied.
The sandstorm outside hindered all the senses. The howling hurricane force winds made it impossible to hear anyone approaching and made even close rifle fire sound faint. The dense red swirling cloud of sand severely limited visibility to just a few meters. The armor the American soldiers wore helped them combat Mars harsh environment. The armor protected them from the wind and the stinging sand hurtling through it at 250 MPH. The armor provided oxygen to the soldiers, since it was impossible to breathe outside in a Martian sandstorm unaided. The fast moving wind snatched oxygen from a mans lung and invited in only choking red sand. The soldiers moved as quickly as they could straining under the massive pressure of the winds. Their boots were magnified and kept them from being blown away, originally designed for zero gravity combat they proved extremely useful. A combination of Colonial jamming and the effects of the sandstorm screwed up the platoons sensors and integrated network with the rest of the assault force. The soldiers switched from normal sight to heat sensory to be able to see further into the distance keeping no more then 5 meters apart from each other in a wedge formation. Their helmets displayed the location of every man in the platoon and if anyone saw anything the camera on their standard issued rifles immediately sent the images to the men nearby and the chain of command. The standard issued rifles the soldiers of Earth carried is the MAG-23b, it was a weapon perfected by the United States during the Third World War. The rifle is a rail gun that uses electromagnetic force to propel conductive projectiles with enough violent force to puncture steel. The rail gun concept was in its infancy before the Third World War and its daunting problems unresolved, but in war and comfort, mankind is a master of creativity. The original magnetic acceleration guns, which the rail gun is a member of, was limited to only naval vessels and space ships. Since the amount of electrical power needed to power the rifle was astronomical and the weapons needed constant repairs because of the constant wear and tear caused by the extreme heat and violent explosion of the weapons. Breakthroughs during the war allowed the shrinking of fusion reactors to AA battery like size and almost immediately they were used to power the rifles. The super conductive and extreme heat resistant metals used in the rifles construction was already available, but only reserved for space ships. After it became apparent that the war on Earth could only be won on the ground the US military allowed the construction of portable rail guns. The rail guns were superior to regular projectile weapons in every way. The MAG-23b with the absence of gunpowder and the moving parts of a regular projectile weapon could carry a vastly larger amount of bullets in its magazines. The lack of gunpowder and the chemical reaction needed to detonate the explosive force needed to shot a projectile came with the benefit of being used in every environment. The ancient projectile weapons needed oxygen to get the chemical reaction to work, which isn’t available on the Moon, Mars and the other colonies. The bullets of the rail gun are forced out at speeds of upwards of 4000 m/s and its large .33 caliber barrel made for a deadly rifle capable of puncturing all but the most advance super metal alloys. The MAG-23b weighed 12 pounds and was 3 feet in length from breech to muzzle. The rifles included a camera mounted on the muzzle in which the view could be sent directly to the chain of command or to the soldiers helmet. The rifle also had a small computer display on the stock of the rifle. The display provided the soldier with vital information on the status of the rifle, the number of rounds in the magazine and acted as a backup in case the soldiers targeting computer failed. The soldiers quickly crossed the street and one man in the front of the formation fell over on his face.
“Dinesh what was that?” The Lieutenant queried. The images of dead Colonists splayed on the sidewalk filled his helmet.
“I guess I didn’t see them, sir. They’ve been dead for a bit because they’re giving off almost no heat signature.” Dinesh responded. “They don’t seem to be shot. They must have fled the building in a panic and didn’t put any gear on.”
The platoon rapidly moved down a few city blocks without incident until they reached a massive clearing with a huge bunker door in the middle. The door was easily two stories tall and carved out of a rocky Martian hill. Around the bunker was four large heavily armed towers with a ten meter high wall. The soldier taking point was decimated by fire from one of the towers. A blinding flash of light raced from the tower to his body, obliterating everything above his knees. Only his boots stood, still clamped to the street by the magnetic force. The amount of heat emitting from the boots were though the roof and to the soldiers staring at it with their heat sensors it gave off a strange white glow. The platoon scattered and found cover anywhere they could. The tower kept shooting relentlessly, burning through cars to get to the soldiers hiding behind them. One by one the soldiers were being picked off. In the distance the door to the massive bunker opened and dozens of Colonial soldiers raced out. “Anyone have a Crusader?!” the Lieutenant screamed over the voice net. Immediately three names popped into his view.
“Alright have at it Lee. Everyone cover him!” The soldiers stood up and shot at the closest tower with their rifles. Private Lee hurried to the front with a large cylinder weapon. The Crusader was a 36 pound mobile missile launching monster, it carried five missiles that were essentially miniature nukes. Private Lee dropped to the floor and launched a missile, the entire platoon hit the ground and braced themselves. The missile flew directly to the tower and detonated in a blinding explosion that turned the night into day. The heat from the explosion followed a fraction of a second later and turned the red sand into tiny flakes of glass. Closely following the blast was the shock wave which knocked everyone off their feet, even those clamped to the ground with their magnetic boots. The Colonial soldiers who were moments ago charging towards the platoons position were now vaporized and only their shadows remained etched on the street. Three of the four towers were now a smoldering ruin, but the bunker itself was totally unscratched. The last standing tower, the furthest one from the platoons position stood silently and partially destroyed. The Americans crept closer to the bunker while keeping a watchful eye on the last tower. The entire area around the bunker door was still super hot and for a few moments glowed. The platoon reached the massive bunker door and two soldiers who also were combat engineers started looking for a way inside.
“Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. Come in Angel Fire. Angel Fire this is Papa Kilo. Please respond,” the Lieutenant tried hailing his commanding officer but kept getting interference. “How’s the door coming?” the Lieutenant asked the two engineers inspecting the bunker door.
“This door is about 5 feet of carbon reinforced titanium and lead. Its going to take one hell of an explosion to even get it to open slightly. Sir, I suggest we take all our Crusader missiles and rig them to go off in unison. The explosion should be enough to crack it open.” A Sergeant First Class known as Frost informed the Lieutenant.
“We’ll be defenseless against heavy armor and ships without them. Is there no other way?” the Lieutenant asked.
“I’m afraid not sir.” Frost responded.
“Well then get on it right away.” The two engineers rounded up all the missiles and lined them up on the bunker door. They carefully took them apart and began getting ready to set up a stronger nuclear device. The platoon took positions in the rubble of the towers and almost as if on cue a regiment of Colonial soldiers moved cautiously toward the bunker door. They were followed by two truck sized hover tanks, which swayed wildly in the fierce winds yet still managed to stay afloat. The tanks silhouettes could be seen in the distance even through the dense sandstorm. The design of the tank hadn’t changed much since the beginning of the century only the technology. Tanks no longer were confined to the Earth, but hovered a few feet off the air. These tanks could pass over rivers and what was once impassable terrain with ease. They were maneuverable, heavily armored, extremely fast, and packed a lot of damage. With no air support and no real antitank weapons the platoon began to panic and discipline broke down as many shot wildly into the Colonial soldiers. The Colonists scattered and the tanks stopped, steadied and aimed. A massive bolt of energy arched across the air converting a large bubble of sand around its trajectory into glistening bits of glass. The blast overshot the American soldiers and hit the rocky hill, but still managed to take a couple of casualties. Two soldiers who were too close to the energy bolt were badly singed and their armor incapable of withstanding the intense heat, melting into their bodies. A second blast from the Colonial tanks quickly followed and landed directly on four soldiers killing them instantly. The Lieutenant raced from his cover across open ground and reached the partially intact fourth tower. He was followed by both Wilson and Lee. All three shot out the door and entered the tower. Its original occupants perished and laid bleeding on the controls. The Lieutenant tossed one of them to the floor and took out a small device from his belt and attached it to the tower controls. Outside the platoon was being bombarded by constant tank fire. With each successive blast one or two soldiers lost their lives and the Colonial soldiers creeping closer to their position to finish them off.
Suddenly the last tower came to life and released a volley of light that smashed into the tank on the far side and it erupted into flames. The wounded tank hovered erratically and shot wildly into the distance. One blast incinerated a group of Colonial soldiers and the tank finally came to a stop when the other tank took it out in one shot. The wounded tank crashed into the floor and exploded in a massive fireball that reached high into the Martian sky. The tower kept trying to hit the last standing tank with little luck. The Colonial tank dodged the attacks with ease and while it was moving it seemed obvious that it was aiming to take out the tower. The Americans inside the tower fled by jumping out a broken window. Down two stories to the relative safety of the ground. The tank shot the tower near its base and it fell over crashing into the ground.
“We rigged the Crusader missiles to blow.” Frost yelled over the voice network. “RETREAT. EVERYONE RETREAT. Move south. Niner niner foxtrot zero lima on your map.” The Lieutenant commanded to his platoon. His visor lit up as his men confirmed his command. His platoon once numbered forty three men, now was reduced to twenty four. He became overwhelmed by sadness, but quickly repressed his feelings for another day. The survivors broke contact and made a mad dash south away from the approaching Colonists. The open space free from cover and running against the hurricane force winds made them easy targets for the Colonists. The Lieutenant watched his soldiers vital signs in his visor drop off one by one. The Colonial tank moved forward at full speed, but stopped shooting since it didn’t want to hit any Colonists. The run down three city blocks were the longest of these Americans lives. Finally they reached a small depression on the ground and all jumped in and curled into a ball. “DETONATE. DETONATE THEM NOW!!!” the Lieutenant screamed to Frost. The Colonial soldiers reached the edge of the depression and began shooting at the American soldiers curled up below making short work of them. The Lieutenant felt an intense pain in his back and he knew he had been shot. The suit beneath his armor automatically contracted around his wound, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The pain became unbearable as his suit catalyzed the wound followed by intense pressure to further seal it. In agony he rolled on his back and watched as the Colonist who shot him raised his rifle again and lined his shot with his head. The Lieutenant mouthed a heart felt expletive and closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he saw an unbelievably bright light in which he was sure was the mythical tunnel to heaven. He heard screams and a deafening roar unlike anything he had ever heard. The light he had seen before became pitch black and he felt his body being carried and finally crushed by an unknown object.
The Lieutenant opened his eyes, but saw nothing. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He could still hear the howling of the Martian winds, but it sounded distant. The lieutenant called out to his men on the voice net, “What’s everyone’s status? Sound off.” The voice network was soon filled by groans and screams of pain. The sound of crying and praying made the Lieutenant uneasy and he turned off the sound. He strained to move and finally broke through the rubble that covered him. He found himself covered in a fine white powder and the air still thick with rubble making it hard to see in any mode of vision. He staggered and walked in the direction of the howling winds. The Lieutenants helmet visor was malfunctioning and no information was being received. He had no idea how many men survived or where they were. The air started clearing up and he could make out light in the distance. The Lieutenant spotted two bodies in the rubble. The body closest to him was Corporal Jones, he was impaled by a steel beam. The Lieutenant searched his body for a weapon but found only grenades, which he salvaged. The second body was that of a Colonial soldier who was still clutching his rifle. The Lieutenant approached the body and tried to yank the rifle from the man’s hand, but he pounced on the Lieutenant. They both wrestled on the rubble for control of the rifle. A shot rang out temporarily illuminating the tunnel of rubble, the Colonist flew back and slammed against the wall. The Colonist clutched his dangling bleeding arm and slumped down to the ground. The Colonist lifted his head up as the Lieutenant raised the stolen rifle up to shoot the Colonist execution style in the face. The Colonist extended his hand out as if saying stop. The Lieutenant looked at the surrendering Colonial soldier in his red and pink camouflage uniform that signified he was in the Martian militia. The bleeding Colonial soldier wore a red helmet with a gold reflective visor that concealed his entire head. The Colonial soldier besides his helmet wore armor that only covered his chest and matched the red and pink camos underneath. The uniform was designed to make the colonial soldier look invisible out in the Martian surface, but this Colonist was covered in white ash and rubble so he stuck out like a sore thumb. The Lieutenant lowered the stolen rifle and staggered out of the rubble into the raging Martian sandstorm. The Lieutenants field of vision was small, but he could no longer see the silhouette of the massive skyscrapers around the bunker. All the Lieutenant could see was rubble, glass, ash, and red sand.
The Lieutenant turned on his helmets communication network and almost immediately Rodriquez said in a panic, “Sir, Angel Fire wants to know what the hell was that?”
“Nuclear explosion. Rodriquez my main computer is dead and I don’t know where the rest of my team or even how many are left alive. Can you tell me what’s going on?” The Lieutenant said to the sniper who was acting as a radioman for the Lieutenant.
“Sir, there are only ten men of your platoon left alive. They are scattered around your location and all seem to be wounded in one degree or another. Connecting you to Angel Fire.” Sergeant Rodriguez replied.
Heavy static filled the Lieutenants helmet until suddenly a worried voice asked, “De-Tierra are you ok?!”
The Lieutenant was surprised his commanding officer blurted out his name. The Lieutenant clutched his stomach as pain flared from the wound and he moaned in agony. The Lieutenant fell on his knees in pain and responded, “Angel Fire. I’m fine.”
“De-Tierra your vital signs are borderline red.”
“I said I’m fine!” the Lieutenant screamed. The Lieutenant removed a small syringe from a first aid kit he had strapped to his leg and plunged it into his wound. He injected the stimulant into his wound and dropped the empty syringe to the ground. His suit automatically repaired the puncture in his suit, but the Lieutenant didn’t feel it. His pain subsided and he asked his commanding officer, “Did the bunker door open?”
“That blast you created leveled every building in a two block radius and created a hole at least 15 meters in all directions in what was once the bunker. I’m reinforcing you with all I have left on the ground. The Russian and Israeli platoons should be there within a minute. The French are still pinned at that munitions plant and the entire Chinese platoon has bought it. I’ve notified your men to rally at your position. Enter the underground facility. Bring down the cities shields and get the hell out of there. Simple.”
The Lieutenant stood alone in the hurricane force winds of the Martian sandstorm when he spotted numerous shadows in the dense sandstorm. He watched as the last of his platoon staggered toward him. He was relieved that he wasn’t the only survivor, but everyone of his men were wounded. Their wounds varied from broken arms to missing limbs. The soldiers gathered together and moved swiftly forward towards the crater. As they reached the edge of the crater a barrage of bullets cut down a US soldier and he fell into the crater. The Americans hit the dirt as hundreds of bullets flew above their heads. The Lieutenant called out “SNAKE!!!”
Immediately the shooting stopped and the sound of people arguing in Russian could be heard. Finally a man yelled in broken English, “RATTLE!!! You respond with proper word!”
“I said ‘snake!’” the Lieutenant tried to stand, but again the shooting started. “What the hells the matter with you Russians? SNAKE!!! SNAKE!!! SNAKE!!!” The shooting stopped and the Russians argued once more amongst themselves. The Russians swiftly moved to the Americans position and started quizzing them in Russian. The Lieutenant looked around and spotted the highest ranking Russian soldier. “You knew we were in the area! Why didn’t you sound off with the call sign?!”
The Russian Master Sergeant was clad in a heavy brown and red metal armor, with a large red hammer and fist symbol on his shoulder, and with thin red ‘eyes’ on his helmet. The Russians still wore the uniforms they fought with when they fought against the Allies during the Great War. All the platoons wore the uniforms of the prior war since the uniforms of a united Earth was still not standard throughout Earth’s military. The Russian Master Sergeant stared the Lieutenant down and said in broken English, “You looked like colonist. We shoot.”
The Lieutenant gripped his stolen colonial rifle tightly and said “That’s bull and you know it. You killed two of my men.”
“You have gun of Colonist. You no in charge of…” The Russian Master Sergeant didn’t finish his sentence as Lieutenant De-Tierra shot him in the face. The Russian slumped forward and fell on the floor dead.
“I am now in charge. Any more shit and I’ll shot you. Lets finish this.” The Lieutenant moved forward towards the massive crater followed closely by his men. The Russians looked at their dead Master Sergeant and followed the Americans. The soldiers crawled over mountains of rubble and reached the mouth of the crater. The crater was fifty yards all around in the middle of what used to be a bunker door. The soldiers could see no bottom to the hole. Only darkness. The Lieutenant tossed a grenade down into the crater and watched as it exploded and illuminated the darkness. “That’s only a fifteen foot drop. We can make it. The wounded stay up here and guard the opening.” The Lieutenant removed a small object from his belt and flung it high into the air. The object was a small gray cylinder and it disappeared into the sandstorm. “The beacon is away. We have fifteen minutes before our bird comes to pick us up. Those staying up here be aware that the Israelis should be moments away. Try not to shot at them. Have them help hold this position.” The Lieutenant De-Tierra motioned to one of the Russian soldiers and signaled to him with his hands his orders. The Russian soldier repeated it to his comrades in Russian. The Lieutenant jumped into the hole and landed on his feet in the middle of a corridor. Intense pain raced through his body and he screamed. His armor concealed the sound of his screams. He felt as if his wound had ruptured. The Lieutenant staggered down the dark corridor followed by a mixed platoon of American and Russian soldiers who just dropped into the hole.
“You alright LT?,” asked Private Frost. He grabbed the Lieutenants arm trying to help straighten him. The Lieutenant shook his arm from his grip and leveled his rifle and shot down the corridor.
Two bolts of light streaked from his rifle and hit a colonial soldier. The platoon broke into a run and ran past the still smoldering Colonist, following the Lieutenant who was using all of his strength to make a mad dash to his objective. He ran limping down the maze of dark corridors. He felt like he was here before, he didn’t pay attention to the fighting erupting all around him as the Colonists resisted tooth and nail to protect the shield generator. His all consuming thought was to destroy the generator. Nothing else mattered to him. The Lieutenant saw a Colonist in a white lab coat in the corner of his eye and changed directions to follow him. He pushed himself as hard as he could. With each step he felt closer to death. The scientist was frantically punching in a code on a door. The Lieutenant just shot him in the leg. Completely shearing his left leg off above the ankle. The scientist clutched on the now open door and tried to enter the room. The Lieutenant shot the scientists left arm clear off with his stolen laser rifle. De-Tierra removed his helmet and spoke to the dying Colonial scientist, “where is the generator?”
“You’re a monster! You’ll kill millions!” The scientist cried out as he lay bleeding to death. The Lieutenant looked at the sign above the door and it was marked…
<<<MARTIAN COLONIAL CONTROL PSG-1>>>
De-Tierra stepped over the weeping scientist and looked behind himself and realized he was alone. His soldiers were gone, but he heard gunfire echoing down throughout the underground complex. He knew his men were still fighting so he continued on to the room alone. The room was a massive cavern of computers and displays. The floor was metal grating and below it he could see the massive shield generators that protected the Martian capital from orbital bombardment. The Lieutenant cautiously advanced and saw the shield technicians cowering behind their chairs. A few were weeping and he paid no attention to them, he was busy removing a large blue cylinder from his pack. The Lieutenant was so focused on the cylinder that he didn’t notice a technician with a pipe sneaking behind him. De-Tierra looked up checking one of the computers displays and spotted the pipe swinging in the air. He tried to dodge the blow but instead of smashing his skull it hit his back with a force that knocked him down. All the technicians who were cowering before raced toward him. De-Tierra rowed on his back and released a salvo of laser fire that blew out the guts of the pipe yielding technician.
“Don’t let him bring down the shields!”
“Get his rifle!”
“God help us!” The technicians mouthed their prayers aloud and tossed themselves on the Lieutenant. He struggled under their combined weight and shot his rifle wildly. The heat from the blast singed the technicians, but they continued fighting. The technicians held down the arm with the rifle and were attempting to peel his fingers from the rifle. The Lieutenant rolled the blue cylinder away from the struggle and reached for a grenade. Before the technicians realized what he was doing he had the grenade primed and pressed it against one of the technicians. The Grenade exploded with a blinding light that left everyone stunned and splayed on top of him. The Lieutenant recovered rapidly because of his superior training and his armor which absorbed the brunt of the blast from the concussion grenade. De-Tierra unsheathed his black knife and easily dispatched the technicians. The Lieutenant tossed the dead technicians off of his body. He struggled to stand up and used the closest control panel to support his body. De-Tierra scanned the room with his eye and quickly found the blue cylinder he had tossed earlier. The Lieutenant retrieved the cylinder and placed it on top of a control panel. He said out loud, “Adresperascit” and watched as the cylinder began to glow. A metallic liquid seeped from the cylinder and moved along the panel entering every crevice. The liquid quickly spread across the room into every computer, it moved as if it had a mind of its own. The lights flickered and all the computer monitors turned to static. Almost immediately the ground shook beneath the Lieutenant and he almost fell on his face. He left behind his weapons and retreated the way he came. The corridor was now pitch black and shook violently every few seconds. He finally reached the crater and looked up at the raging sandstorm above. “This is Lieutenant De-Tierra! Anyone up there?!”
Finally standing still, the pain he suppressed before now overwhelmed his body. His body screamed for air. He was now exposed to the Martian atmosphere without his helmet. The Lieutenant collapsed unconscious on the floor. He awoke a few seconds later outside of the crater on a stretcher with an oxygen mask on. De-Tierra was being administered first aid by a medic in a US uniform, but he spoke in a language he had never heard before. A soldier with a strange rank of one chevron and a Star of David on his arm crawled to the Lieutenants position and quickly exchanged a few words with the medic. “Sir, I am Rav Samál Mitkadém Avi of the Yahsar Nahal, Israeli Defense Force. My rank is equal to your sergeant major. I took command when I arrived with my platoon to this crater. We repelled three Colonial attacks and all the surviving Earth forces are holding a perimeter around this crater. The numbers aren’t official but the French and Chinese platoons have been wiped out. The Russians are at half strength along with my platoon. Sir, your platoon is as bad as your condition, it’s all chewed up. We have to get you out of here soon or you’ll die.”
The Lieutenant could feel himself being hoisted into the air. He phased in and out of consciousness as the Israelis placed him inside a transport ship that seemed to arrive out of thin air. The transport was full of severely wounded soldiers the walking wounded was strapped into seats on the walls of the transport. On the far end of the transport the bodies of the dead were stacked neatly on top of each other like a stack of logs. A medic secured the Lieutenants stretcher and quickly moved on to the other wounded to check their straps. The ship shook violently and it lurched upwards. The medic fell backwards striking his head on the ceiling and tumbling to the rear of the transports hold. Moans and screams of anguish filled the room as the transport jerked in all directions. The Lieutenant felt as if his chest exploded when the ship seemed to flip upside down. The straps that prevented him from failing down were now pressing on his wounds with the weight of his body. The Lieutenant watched as the ceiling filled with the blood of the dead and wounded. The transport pitched downward and rapidly righted itself. The pools of blood rained down and the Lieutenant whispered a final prayer. De-Tierra passed out before he could finish it.
1
SC: Blood on my Hands
Wed, 19th September, 2012
With the war against the Colonies going poorly, Earth attempts a daring raid on their capital that will change the course of history. A story set in the Secession Wars after WW3 based on the Shattered Citadel Universe. Comments appreciated.