The Abyss

Searchers after fiction haunt strange, far places.

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The Abyss

Post by Darth_Malevo » Tue Jun 26, 2007 6:23 am

'There's two kinds of fethed. Fethed, and then fething fethed.'
-Trooper Bragg

The entire city was in shambles, a hollow mimic of its former glory. Once magnificent spires had become no more than debris in shell-blasted roads. Markets and stalls were shooting galleries, with bodies piled high in the no man's land between them. Artillery and rockets only served to add noisy emphasis to the battles being waged across the ruins.

Somewhere in the crimson sky a large metal disk descended. It was a crudely-made transport, the barbaric simplicity of its structure and armaments reflecting the culture of its masters. Primitive energy cannons whined as they mowed down countless targets. The defenders could only take cover as the craft glided to the former Magistrate Office's half-fallen ruins. The artillery barked while the battle raged on, eating into the makeshift defenses with deadly accuracy.

As the craft was four hundred meters from the ground, a single shuttle flew in on an opposite course. The human-origin craft had four pods mounted on its stubby wings, each one large enough to carry a squad of infantry. Four squads of human soldiers sent down in a risky transport, which was on a collision course with the slowly moving transport disk. The pilot of the human craft attempted to change the gliding course of his transport in a futile gesture.

If the man attempted to jerk the craft away, they would spiral out of control and probably get torn to shreds by the massive gees they were pulling. If he nudged the shuttle slightly, it would still serve no effective purpose. Sighing in recognition of his own demise, the man tapped on the holographic keyboard to the side of his controls. The armored glass slowly blacked out as the steel shutters closed, the four pods attached to the wings snapping off with their own thrusters as they dropped like bombs into the rubble below.

The disk-shaped craft raised its weapons to try and shoot down the drop pods, but it was abruptly halted by the impact of the other shuttle. The cockpit of the human dropship smashed into the hull while the engines of the ship went into a full burn. The thick plating of the circular dropship peeled away while the anti-aircraft defenses were rendered useless by the ramming. The cockpit crumpled as beam weapons from the interior attempted to dislodge the craft.

Yet the attempts were futile, the Zuul disk proving to be unprepared for the unorthodox move. The entwined craft smashed through a twenty-story building, boring a large hole through it as the wings of the human shuttle were shaved off. The damage done was all that was needed, for both the disk and the shuttle crashed into an abandoned tenement building. The pods had landed at the time of the crash as well, however.

They had been spread out by kilometers, as was the standard procedure during a mid-combat drop. The depressing part of the event was that only two of the four pods had their crew survive. The third was destroyed upon landing by a stolen anti-tank fusion cannon. The fourth was gutted by an anti-aircraft missile, causing only scraps to land.

Yet the second pod was of little significance, the members of the first pod being the true heroes of this tale. They were Alpha Squad, a quartet of commandos meant just for situations like this. Where large scale warfare was both in orbit and on land. They were the Swiss Army Knife of Tiberus Magnus, an all-use tool against Hivers, Zuul, and Tarka.

First Captain Erevis Ramsey was the first to exit the four-man pod, his pulse rifle held firmly in his right hand as his left tapped the micro-bead attached to his helmet.

'Alpha One, here. Status?' Ramsey asked,

'A-Okay' Alpha Two- Private First Class Jacob Cale- replied

'Lost plenty of munitions, but I still have enough to do some damage.' Alpha three- Rutherd Muril- stated in his usual gusto.

'My gun's still working, yes? I'm good to go, then, Chief.' Donos Bragg- Alpha Four- replied with his unseen grin and gung-ho attitude.

The four of them were in their standard equipment. Their gunmetal gray bodysuits were overlaid with night-black armour vests. They also had their airtight helmets sealed into place, giving them airtight equipment with filtered oxygen. Ramsey was far from a fan of the copper-tasting air, but it was far better than ingesting lungful after lungful of toxic chemicals designed to turn him into a pasty jello or a mindless beast-servant.

The suits were meant to be all-terrain, turning waste and excrement into protein and water for the worst of long-time assignments. Granted, nobody on his team particularly enjoyed the tastes that the filters couldn't remove. Thus why each of them carried their extra food and supplies in their backpacks, with extra magazines for their weapon of choice.

The group split up as Cale gathered up as much as he could from the pod, with Bragg trying to salvage as much of his heavy weaponry as possible. Erevis moved with Muril as the two of them searched for some sort of transport to move away from the Zuul greeting party to come. With their grand entrance, there was no doubt in the Captain's mind of a lethal response.
Last edited by Darth_Malevo on Tue Jul 17, 2007 4:24 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Post by bmac4417 » Tue Jun 26, 2007 6:02 pm

Wow :shock: . Great work. I can't wait to read more :D

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Post by Mecron » Tue Jun 26, 2007 8:08 pm

I agree...very cool!

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Post by Athlon27 » Sat Jul 07, 2007 9:41 pm

'Cough cough' well done well done indeed... continue writing plz...
I don't accept Cowardice, for its why strong men die as the weak hide.

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Post by Lalkin » Sun Jul 08, 2007 6:36 am

Great intro.

Please write more! 8)

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Post by Darth_Malevo » Tue Jul 17, 2007 5:24 am

'Never leave your arse exposed to the enemy; you may never know when they may just stop by with big, spiky rod.'

Erevis and Muril scanned the war-torn streets with the short-range detection equipment. The Captain had been lucky enough to get the Mark Four AECU. The All Environment Combat Unit had been the trustworthy standard-issue gear to all Special Forces units of Emperor Tiberius Magnus. Although their current leader had come to power by less than noble means, the former-SolForce commandos had been oath-bound to serve him until their very likely death.

Humanity had made good allies with the Liir under Magnus's rule, and a non-aggression pact with the Tarka in exchange for the miracle of large-scale colonization biodomes. The Hivers had wanted nothing with the new Emperor, however, and continued on their gate-jumping spree of chaos and destruction in the Fringe Colonies.

The Zuul- in their mysterious appearance- had only served to cause another burden on humanity's small shoulders. Their strange pantomime to Node drives had unleashed several layers of hell to the supply and freight fleets moving throughout the sectors, none knowing exactly where they would appear from.

Thus horror befell Ithaka in such swiftness that the defenders were unwary. Only the orbital nuclear minefield had kept the Zuul at bay long enough for a distress signal to be sent, and the four commando teams to be dispatched. Their mission was both insane and clear: Utter annihilation of the Zuul presence on Ithaka.

For a squad of four normal men, the mission would be as insane and suicidal as putting your head under a bulk lifter's anti-grav plate when it’s set to max. But for Alpha? It would be hard, with a slim chance of success, but that was still a chance of success.

Their objective target was an abandoned weapons testing facility, host to an anti-orbital cannon that had long been forgotten in the records of the now-burning Magistrate Office. They had each been given the neurally-implanted key code to activate the fearsome weapon, the last hope against the fleet so hell-bent on invasion and slavery rather than orbitally bombarding it.

For whatever reason, Ramsey neither cared nor showed interest. His thoughts were solely focused on the mission, the singular focus that had driven him to captaincy.

There was a blur of white that flickered by one of the cars that broke his revere.

His hands tightened on the phase-bolt rifle cradled in his arms. The weapon was made from oxidized steel, given such a black tint that no light would reflect off of it. Its under-mounted flash lamp was unused, as well as the laser designator sandwiched between the light-projector and the muzzle.

The weapon was a true marvel of engineering, light enough to be wielded in one arm but still possessing the firepower required to fell both Hivers and Zuul alike. The weapon used the archaic concept of solid ammunition clips, but the magazines held about fifty of the semi-material energy shells.

The information had played over his helmet as he raised the weapon to fire, the ammunition tally appearing with a slight ping notifying that the safeties were off and that the weapon was ready to be used for its purpose. The white crosshairs coordinated seamlessly with his arm movements, attempting to locate the profile of the blur. His brain worked like a cybernetic machine in order to try and figure out what he was facing.

If it was one of the warrior castes, he stood a seventy percent chance of victory. If it was one of the more predominantly psychic castes, he would lower his victory percentile chance to forty. If it was a new type of soldier all together....

He didn't bother to calculate the fraction of a percent for victory if that was the case.

Instead, he only looked to Muril. The rifleman only nodded in agreement, his rifle pointing at the remains of a one-story office that had previously served as a physician's residence. The building's entire front wall had been blown in, with multiple pieces of debris large enough to provide cover for a fully-matured Zuul. The duo of humans moved to both sides of the blown-in entrance, aiming their rifles around the corner and letting the live feeds to their helmets allow better-than-average sight.

Muril let loose with a barrage of rounds as a red blip resounded on both of their helmets, stating that a categorized form of enemy had been located by profile and crude scanning. Ramsey ducked from his cover low to get a proper sight of the target, seeing one of the ape-like warrior castes wielding a crude slug thrower.

The weapon barked loudly as a pair of shells whizzed over the good captain's right shoulder, clipping the shoulder guard and causing him to open fire with a perfect salvo of his own. It was a pair of three-round barks, which he found best used on the warrior caste of Zuul society.

The first burst smacked into the male's torso, propelling it mid-air as the bulky gun in its clawed hands carved gouges into the wood and stone beneath. Its distorted body may have been dead from the triangle of pin-point hits, but it was surely dead when the second burst blasted a clean hit through his right eye.

The corpse flopped to the ground in an unceremonious manner, the vaporized socket and remaining eye staring into space with raw shock. Muril's hidden face was a grin, if Ramsey knew his rifleman and best stealther at all. The Captain did not bother to confiscate its weapon or do any other such ritualistic thing, knowing full well that there was a chance for another Zuul to be right around the corner.

He not wasting the breath to voice that was what likely saved his life.

He instead wasted the breath on yelling out an early warning, saving Muril from a chest-height round of slugs that would have pulped even the exoskeleton-wearing commando. South of them was a modified truck, warped into a makeshift technical that spat out twin streams of crude shells that pulped a stuffed deer's head in a spray of fluff.

Before the gunner or the driver could react, a perfectly-placed headshot blew off the gunner's primal grin from the shoulder up. The magnetically propelled shell had removed the head so perfectly that it took the body a moment to spasm into the ground with a geyser of blood shooting from the stump.

The driver was even less fortunate, a blob of bright yellow melting through the window, the upper half of the driver, and then exiting through the other crudely-welded-on doorway. The two gunmetal-armored allies quickly halted at the vehicle, taking up position to scan for any other targets.

Ramsey let out a breath of relief at the heroic save at the hands of Bragg's backpack-powered fusion cannon and Cale's marksman mag rail rifle. The marksman and heavy weapons specialist let out a few loose shots- likely scoring kills- before the resounding thumps and whines of distant battle resumed.

Bragg's gruff voice came over the squad channel, the obvious glee of it fitting to him as he dragged the cauterized half-body from the driver's seat.

'Can I drive?' He chuckled, his massive form barely fitting into the higher-than-average roof of the technical.

'Not sure if you can fit in there, fatty.' Muril replied, holstering his weapon before taking racking the slide of the twin slug cannons on the rear of the re-commandeered transport. Bragg only snorted in response, settling his pack in the third-passenger seat with the tenderness of a mother setting down her child.

'Cut the chatter, we've got a planet to save... Speaking of which, did you load up the extra hoppers of ammo?' Ramsey cut in, taking the passenger seat while Cale lay prone in the cargo area of the truck.

'Yes. I could salvage three cases of magazines and two extra packs for Bragg's cannon.' Cale replied, motioning to a trio of stacked-up cases and then to a pair of round tubes stored in slots of the large armored backpack of the cannon. How the marksman had so silently and secretly moved them onboard, Ramsey couldn't tell.

'Aright then, this baby's loaded up and I'm ready to roll!' Muril whooped out, aiming the oversized weapon forward. Without a single uttered command, Bragg depressed the undersized pedestal. The vehicle gave a loud roar as it moved down the streets, the trio of passengers keeping a stark watch out for any further surprises.
Last edited by Darth_Malevo on Tue Jul 17, 2007 5:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Post by Athlon27 » Tue Jul 17, 2007 2:05 pm

A little spelling and grammars mistakes but overall great.
I don't accept Cowardice, for its why strong men die as the weak hide.

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Post by DervMan » Tue Jul 17, 2007 6:18 pm

I wish I could write in the same style. I like it a lot. Well done! :wink:

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Post by Athlon27 » Wed Jul 18, 2007 3:28 am

Dude We all wish for something, I wish I could be as discreptive as he is. but not as many mistakes as him. He's improve the story all i've got to say
I don't accept Cowardice, for its why strong men die as the weak hide.

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