Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep280: Episode 280: Sci-Fi Horror

Episode Date: October 4, 2025

Today’s phenomenal tale of terror is ‘From the Halls of Montezuma to the Depths of Outer Space’, an epic work by Taxi Dancer, kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission.  https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/

Experience a legacy that lasts at Dawn Valley North Lexus. Right now Lisa 2026 NX350 Premium Package from just 628 per month for 28 months at 3.9%. Plus qualified Lexus loyalty guests receive a 1.5% rate reduction for rates as low as 2.4%. See Dawnvalleynorthlexus.com for details. A proud member of Wayne's Auto Group. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. Now we're drawn to hi-fi horror stories because they blend the familiar with the unknown, pushing the boundaries of our fears into realms that are both imaginative and unsettling.

These stories allow us to confront our anxieties about technology, the future, and the vastness of the universe, all within the safety of fiction. The thrill comes from exploring what-if scenarios, where scientific advancements lead to unexpected horrors, forcing us to question our understanding of reality and the limits of human control. The combination of speculative science and the primal fear taps into a deep curiosity and a love for the mysterious, making sci-fi horror a compelling genre that challenges us and captivates us

as we shall see in tonight's feature-length story. As ever before we begin, a word of caution. Night's tale may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. From the halls of Montezuma to the depths of outer space. the long deployment. Part one.

We're set. Go. Second squad picked up from their firing positions and fell back 35 meters to where the first squad had set up to fire. As soon as the last member of second squad passed the first squad's firing positions, first squad unleashed murderous weapons fire back in the direction that second squad had just come from. The 30 Marines of second squad continued falling back,

passing the Marines of the third squad who were 35 meters behind. the first squad and getting into position to file. Then as the last Marine of second squad passed the third squad's firing position, the third squad leader yelled, where's that? Go. The Marines of First Squad, now 35 meters to the front of the firing line, ceased firing and picked up all their weapons, falling back towards the third squad's position.

Once the first squad Marine passed third squad's position, the third squad opened up and the rhythmic thunder of assault weapons fired began ringing out again. In seconds, the second squad was 35 metres behind third squad and in position to fight. The second squad leader got down on one knee yelling,

Weir there, go. The third squad marines ceased firing, picked up their weapons and sprinted back towards the second squad. Once the last third squad Marine passed the second squad line, the second squad marines continued the unending fuselard of weapon fire.

With a Decision and timing honed through hours and days and weeks of constant combat maneuver training. The three squads of Marines, 42 Marines and all, fell back 200 meters down the metal corridor of the Star Freighter. Third squad reached the massive airlock first, and after the platoon leader punched in the code on the keypad mounted on the bulkhead, the heavy metal door slid open with a long hiss. Second squad crossed the airlock second, followed moments later by the 13 Marines. of first squad. Once the last Marine had crossed the airlock, the Marines began firing back through

the airlock as it slowly closed. Hideous creatures looking like demonically misshapen humans with bleeding pale yellow skin slammed against the closed airlock. The airlock was massive and sturdily constructed and easily withdrewed the creatures trying to scratch and bite their way through the airlock's four-inch armored glass and titanium steel frame. Do we lose anyone? Anybody get hurt? The question came from behind the enclosed combat helmet of a Marine wearing first lieutenant rank. First squad, up. Second, up. Third herd, up. The lieutenant was standing a few feet from the airlock, with the hordes of demonic-looking humans banging and scratching furiously on the other side.

We're going to fight another way round, the lieutenant said. Then, turning to his comspec, he ordered. Call in the gunship. moments after the communication specialist made the transmission, the bulky gray-green shape of a Marine Helios gunship transport entered the open port dock and clamped down on the metal deck using the maglots on the gunship's three landing struts. A ten-foot-wide, hydraulically driven metal ramp was lowered mid-ships at the transport. The Marines, ducking low, ran single foul to the rear of the ship towards a lowered ramp, having to pass between two bulky armored pods which house the Helios' full massive thrust vectoring engines.

The lieutenant was the last Marine to board the gunship, his body armor, M8-A-3 rifle, and armored boots clanking up the metal ramp behind the rest of his platoon. The Helios gunship lifted up and turned, using its six smaller maneuvering frusters as the rear ramp finally closed.

The pilot pointed the nose towards the port dock opening and engaging the four thrust vectoring engines shot out into open. space. The gunship emerged out of the port dock at a trajectory that was perpendicular to the Corvo-class research freighter ship which they had just escaped. At a distance of 30 miles out, the gunship slowed, using its maneuvering thrusters to turn around and face the research freighter once again. The CSNS-Montcabourou was the six of the Corvo-class research freighter ships that were built at the Newport News Aerospace Shipyards and, at almost three and three

150 meters long, was one of the larger research freighter ships constructed. The Mon Cabaroo was in orbit over a dead planet of rock, simply named KXY-277D, when the Marines were called. Well, Lieutenant, said the gunship pilot. What's the story? Ah, same old, same old, replied the lieutenant. He'd entered the crew cockpit and was standing behind the pilot, who was seated in a well-padded and comfortable-looking seat, facing.

a bank of huge monitors set above a relatively narrow viewing screen. Scientists scavenging in the galaxy for signs of intelligent life in alien technology. Scientists find some alien monument that seems out of place on a dead planet. Scientists take said monument onto their ship. Scientists get turned into demonic hellsport. Marines come in, kick-ass. Ha, said the gunship pilot. There are combat engagement this year for you guys.

are we implying the rules of engagement protocols? Offset slightly to the rear and left of the pilot was the Navigation's officer, and seated slightly offset to her right was the Weapons Systems Officer. Yep, said the lieutenant, as he removed his enclosed combat helmet and breathed in the cool, recycled cabin air. Go for it. You got it, answered the pilot, as she adjusted the manoeuvring thrusters. Turning to her right, she said,

Gunner, Target Research Freighter, CSNS, Monskabarro. Roger, said the weapons systems operator. She'd anticipated the order and had already targeted the freighter, punching an order into a keyboard on the weapons operation console. Two huge metal panels opened on the port and starboard size of the gunship from recessed pods. Two rectangular canisters emerged from under each panel, each containing four 1-88-millimeter high-explosity kinetic round launches. Calculating the ordinance of the fire mission required and the necessary weapon trajectory,

the gunner squeezed the trigger on the targeting joystick. The gunship rocked gently as one of the 1-88-millimeter high-explosive rounds launched from one of the launches, then another, then another. There was a two-second delay as the four high-explosive hypervelocity. velocity rounds raced to their target. Then in the span of a split second, all four rounds hit along the entire port side of the Montcabrew and exploded, ripping it and hopefully the undead human scientist monsters to pieces.

As the Montcabro came apart, the ship's nuclear reactors exploded in a brilliant flash of white light, before extinguishing itself as quickly as it appeared. Whatever little remained of the ship burned to ash, it tumbled into the gravity of KXY 277D. Good shooting gunner, said the pilot, she banked the gunship around and applied all thrusters on fall. They'll never learn to leave well enough alone, will they?

said the gunner in a bored tone. No, I guess not, said first Lieutenant Samuel Gabriel, but if they did, we'd be out of a job. He turned to leave the cramped cockpit area of the gunship, making clanking noises as his M88A3 rifle strapped across his back and his helmet clamped on his waist, banged against his body armour. He stomped down the four metal steps behind the cockpits and crossed the hatch leading into the cargo compartment where the other 40 Marines of his fourth platoon Delta Company weighted, among stacks of giant olive drab guard, hard plastic container boxes of gunship weapon reloads. Lieutenant Gabriel was not looking forward to the damn paperwork he'd have to fire when they got back.

There were over 260 formerly human souls aboard the Montcabarou, plus the freighter itself, and now they were all blown up. Hell, the last time he'd had to write a report like this, it was only for 12 research scientists doing a botanical study on a moon-orbiting planet WSS, something or other. Lieutenant Gabriel could never remember the dizzying designations which had been assigned to the vast number of moons and planets which had been discovered in the past 50 years. Anyway, four months ago, a group of research scientists were working for one of the galaxy's giant pharmaceutical conglomerates. The one whose logo is, the afflictions of Earth may be cured by a pill from space. Six of those scientists had landed moonside, probably rolling around in the local fauna.

and apparently had been contaminated by some kind of microscopic spoor. When they didn't return to the ship, like a bunch of typical civilian idiots, six more scientists went down, Moonside, to check on their friends. When they failed to return, the last four scientists probably would have, well, gone down to the surface if it weren't for the fact that the last team had taken the last of their two landing craft. Instead, they finally did the right thing and called the fleet for assistance, and Lieutenant Gabriel's platoon got the mission to respond. As it turned out, the spores had invaded the bodies of the twelve scientists,

turning them into green, spongy, mossy, tentacle creatures. Lieutenant Gabriel would not have suspected that the creatures attacking were actually the missing scientists, until after his platoon was forced to blow them all away with small-armed weapons fire, and they discovered the scientists' identification badges deep inside the gooey green gore that It used to be the spongy, mossy tentacle creatures. The platoon incinerated the two landers with explosives before leaving Moon, WSS whatever, and was designated off limits for the time being. The platoon then spent an agonizing 24 hours in a decontamination chamber

where none of the seals to the chamber could be breached and therefore no food or water could be brought to the platoon. All of their uniforms, equipment and weapons had to be surrendered and incinerated. meaning that all of the Marines had to share that one decontamination chamber, naked as the day they were born, which was awkward since 16 of the 42 Marines were females, making the 26 male Marines quite self-conscious. Afterwards, the entire platoon was kept in isolation,

constantly being observed by doctors and medical staff, and after two weeks, when none of the Marines suddenly turned into homicidal geraniums, they were considered fit to return to duty. All that report was a nightmare for Lieutenant Gabriel to write, and this one would be worse. The Marines had unstacked and rearranged some of the plastic containers on the gunship's cargo bay to form makeshift benches and seats. Since the Helios gunship did not have hyperdrive capability, the stuff didn't need to be mag-locked to the deck and strapped down as there was no danger of stuff flying around

from hyperspace travel. The artificial grav would suffice. That's also why there were no restraining seats in the cargo bay for the Marines. They just sort of sat around, making themselves as comfortable as they could within the confines of that olive-drave metal bughead. Lieutenant Gabriel took a seat on one of the hard plastic containers, wishing that he had a fresh cup of coffee and not the powdered Instabrew coffee that came in their mission ration meal kits, which tasted something like shoe polish dipped in dishwashing detergents. it will be a long 30-hour ride back to the carrier.

We saw the flash, said Staff Sergeant Talley, barking her eyes. Guess we nuked it. Lieutenant Gabriel yawned and nodded towards his second squad leader. Yep, one more mysterious alien, human-mutating monument bites the dust. Staff Sergeant Boyer, the first squad leader, handed Lieutenant a nice hot canteen of shoe polish and deterrent. urgent-flavored coffee, and Lieutenant Gabriel accepted it gratefully. We're a weak shot, Boyer said, returning to his seat next to his disassembled M-A-8 rifle, which he was cleaning.

Then we come off rotation for the next few months. Don't jinx it, said Talley, hitting Boyer on his shoulder. Had Boyer been wearing his armor, he wouldn't have felt the hits. But he wasn't, and Boyer realized Talley didn't pull her punches. "'Oh!' said Boyer. I mean, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, rubbing his shoulder. Normally Gabriel's fourth platoon would be basking in the afterglow of their mission adrenaline rush. They'd just neutralized a level one threat on unidentified alien mutating structure, and it escaped with zero casualties, even though they were outnumbered six to one by near

bulletproof human mutant demons. But fourth platoon was on week three of month 14 of their 15-month tour of duty, and they were tired. The naval fleet folks' tour of duty was less than half as long as the fleet marines, but the naval guys always received double the honors and recognition when their star cruises pulled into space dock, even though the naval guys were usually cruising 350 miles to 400 miles above where the shooting was actually occurring. Gabriel's fourth platoon Marines were spread out all over the cargo bay, either preparing mission ration meals, cleaning weapons, playing call of duty the Beta Nebulae missions,

watching movies on their interphonics or playing cards. The other half of the platoon was laid out on the floor or on cots, fast asleep in their sleeping bags. Private Hauser, First Squad's automatic rifle gunner, was a fan of the classics and was watching the vintage comedy movie Predator. Lance Corporal Chapman, affectionately known as Chaps, was the platoon's medic. He was conducting an impromptu Bible study with about three other Marines.

It never ceased to amaze Lieutenant Gabriel that folks still believed in one all-powerful being, even after everything they'd experienced in the galaxy. But that religious faith was as strong now as it ever was before. Gabriel took a gulp of the coffee, thankful that Boyer put enough sugar, creamer and hot sauce into the brew to kill the taste. He poured out his hard-case data pad and began tapping out a draft copy of his mission report. He was trying to describe the most effective way to eliminate the mutated human demons that they'd battled aboard Mont Cabaru, should the horrors ever be encountered again.

Hey, Jensi, he yelled over to the platoon's flame-rifle gunner, who was assigned to the third squad. How do you spell incinerate? PFC Chensi was sitting cross-legged on the ground. playing spades with three other Marines. She looked up from her cards and turned to look at her lieutenant. Incinerate? B-O-O-M.

Incinerate. This elicited a roar of laughter from the assembled Marines, and even Gabriel had to chuckle. Smart ass, he said. Gabriel tossed his datapad back into his rucksack. He wasn't in the mood to write the report anyway. Ah, I give up. Damn it, Chensit!

said Sergeant Hernandez, the third squad leader. Look at that. You broke the LTE. More laughter echoed from the cargo pay. The Marines were tired from their over-year-long tour, but they could finally see light at the end of the deployment tunnel. Gabriel let them have their fun at his expense. They'd earned it.

Fifteen months, three combat engagements, zero casualties. All things good, considering that they never knew what they were engaging. Gabriel leaned back, still wearing his body armour, tried to get as comfortable as he could, resting his back against the ship's bulkhead, and closed his eyes. He'd have plenty of time to do the damn report during the six-day trip that it would take for their carrier, the USS Kiddy Hawk, to make the trip back to San Diego orbital naval base. Lieutenant Gabriel to the flight deck. Lieutenant Gabriel opened his eyes. He felt as if he'd just closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, but after checking his watch, it was three hours later.

Gabriel groaned as he looked around. Most of the Marines who were still awake simply looked down, shaking their heads. When a Marine platoon leader gets called to the flight deck, it's usually for two things. One, debriefed the pilot on a mission that just ended, or two, to receive orders of a new mission. Gabriel pressed the two quick release stats on the upper shore. shoulder of his moddy armor, and the bulky armor fell away. He was crowded enough in the cockpit without his clunking armor banging around. Gabriel got up, rolled his eyes, and disappeared through the hatch which led to the cockpit.

Lieutenant Gabriel returned to the cargo bay relatively quickly. By then, all of his Marines were awake and staring at him, pensively waiting for the bad news. Gabriel held up a hand, saying, we're um taking a slight detour to rendezvous to rendezvous with the c snsns maslev wood a luxury passenger liner she's cruising around the beldmore system about ten hours from here good lord said private hauser what is it now tall black skeleton-looking cyborg creatures with as if a blood that bust out of your chest "'Fire-breathing mutated space dinosaur,' said PFC Chensy. "'Ah, ugly, flabby-looking flesh-coloured alien with long fingers,

"'but a kind heart who's just looking to call home,' said Corporal Cotto, "'a rifleman in second squad.' "'Oh,' said Lieutenant Gabriel, "' geez, his marines have been watching too many of private houses' vintage sci-fi comedy classics. "'We're just picking up a VIP to transport the carrier.' The CSNS Maslov Wood had engine trouble this, under-toe to the Belmour orbital star docks. None of his Marines groaned or protested, realizing that a ten-hour detail was far better than another last-minute mission. Besides, this was the Belkmore Star Docks.

The massive space station orbited over the planet Belmour 6, a bright blue class-1 orb known for beautiful aqua-blue seas, white sandy beaches, and lush green tropical islands. It was one of the more secluded systems, popular with those who could afford to travel to this exclusive vacation spot. Warrant Officer Nasri wanted to refuel and do a little maintenance at the Belmont Docks, which would give the 4th Platoon Marines a few hours to eat chow at the Star Docks buffet and perhaps get in a quick shower. They hadn't had a decent meal and a chance to properly wash since the mission had begun 12 days ago, so this was an opportune time. Lieutenant Gabriel gathered up the small Vig cards which were inserted in each of the Marines' helmets. Each helmet contained a small camera which automatically recorded every time a Marine squeezed the trigger of their weapon.

It also recorded whenever a Marine flipped a record lever located in a small recess in their upper right breastplate armour. The camera was a requirement of Congress to keep the military honest and reduce the incidents of war crime, since apparently no one in the military could be trusted. As such, after every mission, all recordings on vig cards needed to be sent up through the chain of command as soon as possible, and following SOP, Gabriel uploaded all 42 vig cards into a transmitter panel and forwarded the videos to his CO and the ops officer aboard the USS Kitty Hall. Eleven hours later, after the gunship had arrived at the Belkmore Starducks,

any thoughts the Marines had of having a good meal of real food in the shower were quickly dashed. The VIP which they were picking up was adamant about leaving immediately. Lieutenant Gabriel and the Helios pilots, Warrant Officer Nasri, exited the gunship to meet the VIP as soon as they landed, while the rest of the 4th platoon Marines sat fuming inside of the cargo bay. Even Lieutenant Gabriel was slightly annoyed, wondering what was so important that he didn't even have to be. a chance to grab a mug of real coffee from one of the Stardox mess halls. Fifteen minutes after

arriving, the Helios gunship was back in open space, headed towards the assault carrier USS Kitty Hawk. When Lieutenant Gabriel entered the hatch to the cargo bay, his Marines came to attention, all wearing the cleanest duty uniforms they could find. At ease, Marines, said Lieutenant Gabriel, stepping aside to allow the VIP to enter. The VIP ended up being a young lady in her mid-twenties. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, elegant, designer-white pantsuit combination, with matching designer heels. She had a somewhat long face with a nose that seemed a bit too large for her face

and thin lips which barely covered a noticeably large overbite. Her wavy brown hair, usually done up glamorously, sat listlessly to her shoulders, but her eyes were a striking blue. "'Marines,' said Lieutenant Gabriel, This is Miss Cichael Killari, daughter of Senator William J. Kilai. She's on an important diplomatic mission, which is why we need to leave Baltimore Station in the hurry. Lieutenant Gabriel stepped aside, allowing the senator's daughter to enter the cargo bay. I apologize for the austere accommodations, Miss Killary,

but we've rearranged the gunship weapon containers to form a separate space so that you can have your own privacy. We've also set up a couple of cots inside the space for you. Then, turning to his platoon, Gabriel said, "'Marines, let's get Miss Killery's baggage inside the bay.' She wrinkled her nose and looked with barely disguised contempt at the Marines, who were still standing at prey dressed. "'Oh, my God, do you people even bathe? "'This place smells like a barn.'

"'Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am,' said the South Sergeant Talley. "'We've been on a mission for almost two weeks, "'and this gunship doesn't have shower facilities.' We apologize for the sense. Staff Sergeant Talley raised her eyebrows, wondering what seashell Kilari was talking about, since Talley didn't smell anything unusual. Oh, I know all about your so-called mission, said Kallari. It was all over the GNN-Vit feeds a couple of hours ago.

You people nuked an innocent research frader simply because they found something that you gun-toting Neanderthals didn't understand. The Marines gave her a sharp look, but said nothing as Lieutenant Gabriel pissed them all with a stern gaze. Inwardly, Gabriel groaned. Ah, galactic news network. He thought to himself, All the slanted opinion pieces that were fit to broadcast, gotta love him. Gabriel cleared his throat. Yes, ma'am.

We've made your area as large and spacious as we could, There's plenty of space for your baggage. We'll try not to bother you for the duration of your trip to the Kitty Hall. Is this some kind of joke? Snap-Killerie. I'm not staying in some dank, musty-smelling hold with a bunch of trained psychopathic murderers. I'm on a diplomatic mission of peace and understanding.

Some of you gun-toting army lunatics know nothing about. Gun-toting marine lunatics, ma'am, said PFC Chancy. Lieutenant Gabriel shot Chensy in angry, look, gritting his teeth at her as Chensie tried to suppress a smile. Marine, Sammy, whatever. You're all fucking barbarians, and I refuse to spend the entirety of this trip, trap like an animal with you. Animals!

Screamed Killery. That's why my father is working hard to pass legislation to defund you people. Murdering animals don't need guns. Where's the VIP executive suite? Ma'am, said Lieutenant Gabriel. suddenly thinking that the mutated human demons on the CSCS Mon Cabaro might have been better company. This is a Helios-class Marine Corps gunship. It doesn't come equipped with the VIP executive suite.

Fine, then I'm going to sit in the cockpit, Killary said as she pushed past the three Marines carrying her extensive amount of personal baggage into the cargo bay. Don't touch my stuff, she yelled as her high heels clang down the metal corridor towards the cockpit. If I find any of my things missing, I'll have my father fight. Think she has any real food in her baggage, said Corporal Palcovic, a team leader in third squad who was hauling two of seashell killery's gigantic suitcases into the bay. Shut up and get the rest of her shit in here, said Sergeant Hernandez, Palkovich's squad leader.

Lieutenant Gabriel hit an intercom button on the bulkhead next to the hatch and spoke into the war-mounted speaker. Heads up, cockpit. Miss Seashall-Killerie is on her way there. We heard, Lieutenant, replied Warrant Officer Nasry, with all the enthusiasm of watching paint dry. Roger, said Lieutenant Gabriel. Be advised that we are locking the hatch behind her.

Have a nice flight. Asshole, said Nassery. As Miss Seashog-Killery insisted on sitting in the cockpit, the ship's gunner ended up going back to the cargo bay with the rest of fourth platoon, while the senator's daughter took the gunner's seat. Two hours later, Gabriel flicked on the intercom to eavesdrop on what was going on in the cockpit and could hear seashell complaining to the pilot about how the military and nothing but tools for the corrupt government to oppress the minorities in the outer ring colonies,

and how Willow's World, which was her final destination, would hopefully be the start of a galactic uprising to bring about galactic social awareness and galactic social justice he shut off the intercom took a nap and turned it on again two hours later we could hear seashells still complaining this time about how it was going to take some kind of universal social awakening before the rest of the galaxy realized that the lives of the minorities working on the resort planets mattered he shut off the intercom again but two hours later warrant officer Jennifer Nasri the gunship's pilot turned on the intercom

Gabriel You're there She whispered Yeah, I'm here, Jen Gabriel answered Go secure said the pilot Gabriel unhooked a headset

From a recess side panel And connected it into the wall-mounted jack Underneath the intercom So he could talk privately with the pilot He could hear Miss Killery In the cockpit snoring in the background I am seriously going to launch this bitch into space

whispered Narsri. She's fucking gassing up my cockpit. What are these rich debutants eat anyway? You owe me big time for letting us sit up here, mister. Lieutenant Gabriel looked around, making sure none of his marines could hear him. Weekend in Vegas, he said. Screw that, said Narsri.

Earth is a shithole, you cheap ass. You just made first lieutenant, so you can afford better. Make it a week in Vegas, and I might think about forgiving you. you. Yeah, said Gabriel, love you two. Promises, promises, said Narsri. The rest of the flight to the assault carrier USS Kitty Hawk went relatively uneventfully. When the Marines got too restless, Sergeant Hernandez and private first-class

Chensey conducted combatives and martial arts combat training for the platoon to keep them sharp on their hand-to-hand combat tactics, but mostly just to burn off excess energy. The bay was just barely long enough so that the Marines could set up a digitized boar scoping range where they could calibrate their weapons after they cleaned and reassembled them and Lieutenant Gabriel was even able to lead fourth platoon in a little bit of physical fitness training

before Miss Seashell Killery stormed down to the cargo bay complaining that Marines were making so much noise that they were seriously interfering with her open-mind sensory mojo meditation She complained that if she didn't get at least two hours of meditation a day, her open mind would be adversely affected, causing her mojo to descend into the third house of Uranus, and that the Marines will be awake to this type of astro-spiritual enlightenment if they would learn to read a book instead of colour them in. Finally, after what seemed like a week to the Fourth Platoon Marines, it was only about a day and a half. the Helios gunship docked on the assault carrier USS Kitty Hawk. The Kitty Hawk was the ninth naval vessel to bear the name,

and as an assault carrier, carried one squadron of 14 aerospace superiority fighters, one squadron of 14 multi-role aerospace fighters, and two squadrons of 16 Helios gunships. She was smaller than a regular tri-of-class carrier, which could carry twice as many fighter squadrons, but the Kitty Hawk was as fast and more heavily armored, and carried the armament of a battle-cruiser. A civilian Saab Leocla shuttle was already docked in the hangar bay awaiting Miss Seashol Kalari,

who was all too eager to get away from all these toxic warmongering, baby-killing idiots in uniform. She stormed off the Helios back ramp, yelling behind her to the Marine Corps goons to be careful with her baggage, reminding them that if even one of her imagined Galactic Peace buttons was missing from one of her baggages, there will be hell to pay. For their part, the Marines were more than happy to help Miss Killery move her things to her awaiting shuttle, which, no doubt, had

an executive VIP suite. Gabriel's Marines were just glad that a long mission, which capped off, a long deployment was coming to a close, that a few months of well-deserved rest and recuperation awaited them before they be expected to head out into space again.

A tall, skinny young man with dark, wavy, brown hair emerged. from the civilian shuttle and hug C. Shell, looking derisively at Lance Corporal Chapman, private first-class Chensy and Corporal Palcovic, as they hauled all of C. Shell's baggage into the luxurious VIP shuttle. As they hugged, Cichael regaled the tall young man with stories about how she put the Marines in their place when they harassed her and attempted to steal her belongings during the trip from Beltmore Station. Having stacked all 12 of C. Shell's large baggagees into the cargo hold, the three Marines depart the luxurious civilian shuttle to rejoin

the rest of their comrades who were unloading the Helios gunship. The skinny young man turned, angrily yelling to the Marines to stop. Looking at each other, Chapman Chenzian Palkovich stopped and turned to walk back to where Seashell and her tall gentleman friend were standing. What's up, buddy, said Palkovich. Buddy, buddy, buddy, the young man said. in an overly aggressive and offended voice. He puffed himself up, looking to seashell for reassurance. She smiled and nodded approvingly.

It looks like someone needs to show you jarheads little manners. The young man sized up the three marines. Chapman and Palkovich were males, both standing six feet, lean and muscular like most of the warriors who served in the corps. PFC Chensy was female, about 5'4 and Asian. The civilian man grabbed private first-class Chency by her uniform collar and attempted to lift her off her feet. You're going down, jarhead.

Alcensier, a junior martial arts combative's instructor, grabbed one of the young man's wrists, stepping behind him while at the same time kicking the back of his knee. As the young man went down, Chensy rode him to the deck, pushing on his shoulder with her right arm while twisting his wrist behind him with her left. quickly she had her boot in the middle of his back

or now applying pressure to his left wrist with both of her hands the young man screeched yelling she attacked me she attacked me get her off me four private security service bodyguards each wearing black tactical military type uniforms race from the shuttle to his side ordering pfc chensy to step away Chapman and palcovitch stepped in between chency

and the four bodyguards as more fourth platoon marines came running from the gunship. Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? He yelled the young man. His face planted on the deck of the hangar. Chensy's combat boot just inches below his neck. I'm Hunter hiding. Hunter hiding, you bitch. I'm former Vice President hiding's son. Chesney looked down at the arrogant young man who would just put his hands on her.

Hunter hiding, if he was upright, would have stood almost a foot tall. smaller than her. Do you know who I am? She said, no, said the former vice president's son. Good, she said. Then I don't know which high-ranking politician's asshole son just put his hands on me. She led up on the pressure, throwing Hunter's arm down beside him. Come on, guys, she said as she walked away. Chapman and Palkovich turned to follow her back to the gunship. Get her. Get her. Get her. yelled hiding to the private security detachment. He stood up, brushing off his clothes, and puffing out his chest once again.

I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Hiding, said one of the security officers. Not with so many people witnessing you putting your hands on that female Marine. The big security bodyguard looked nervously around. About three dozen Marines and fleet personnel that surrounded them at a respectable distance, unmoving, but the looks on their faces, said that a privileged, spoiled civilian attacking a small female Marine on a naval assault carrier was a very bad idea. Besides, we have a narrow margin to meet if we're going to rendezvous with the CSNS, Newcastle,

on time and get to Willow's World. Continue the bodyguard. Hunter hiding put his hands on his waist, looking around at the Marines and the naval personnel in the hangar deck, who were staring back at him. He straightened up his collar and yell loud enough so that everyone could hear. "'Yeah, because we have a real mission, a real mission, do you hear? "'Not some bullying mission where a bunch of cowardly gunnuts blow up a helpless scientific research vessel.'

He then turned and pointed like a commanding general at PFC Chensy. "'I'll see you again, you bitch. "'You hear me? I'll see you again.' Chensy scratched the back of her neck with her middle finger as she walked away. "'Ceshel clats. "'Oh, Hunter, you're so brave to stand up to those base. killers like that. Lieutenant Gabriel and warrant officer Nazri was standing outside the cockpit of the gunship. Gabriel had made to run to the civilian shuttle when he saw the tall

lanky civilian put his hands on one of his marines, but warrant officer Nasri put out her hand and stopped him. Gabriel stood, hands on hips, and stared at private first-class Chency as she approached with Chapman and Palkovich following close behind her. Chancy looked down Gilt written all over her face When it's time to play It's easy to find your next favorite game with Fodog Play free casino games

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Part 2. Drive at first class, Hichiro Chensie. Said Lieutenant Gabriel, in a tone signing like a father, getting ready to scold a disobedient child. I'm sorry, sir, she said, but that jerk... Good job, Shenzhi. Gabriel said in a whisper, Now do you think you can help the rest of the platoon unload our stuff

without breaking off someone's arm? I'll try, Chensy said as she raced around the gunship to where the main hatch opened into the cargo bay and where her platoon was offloading equipment, weapons and ammunition. Lieutenant Gabriel looked to see Chapman and Palkovich standing awkwardly there, staring dumbly at him and warrant office in Nazary. It was no secret in the platoon that Gabrielle and Nazri had the hearts for each other. What the hell are you two clowns looking at? said Gabriel.

I, um, uh, said Palkovich. We just, stammered Chapman. Palkovich, jabman, yelled Sergeant Hernandez, sticking his head around the back of the gunship. Get your asses back here and help us unload these damn 35 migrains. Who are, sergeant, the two Marines said, almost gratefully as they ran around to the other side of the gunship. So, said Warrant Officer Narsri, finally removing her flight helmet and shaking her head to let her red hair fall down past her shoulders. She smelled like body odor and sweats, but Gabriel didn't mind. He probably smelled worse. Two weeks in Vegas once we get back to San Diego or little naval base.

Wait, what? said Gabriel. I thought you said one week. Sad, she said. You smelled the inside of that damn cockpit. Geez, that VIP that you saddle me with blew up the whole place when she slept. I mean, she played her ass trumpet like a chap. And now my personal battle space smells like caviar, boiled eggs, and high society. It's going to take a week just to air out my gunship. No, two weeks, mister.

Gabriel held up his hands in surrender. I'll see what I can do, Jen, he said. Yeah, promises, promises, said warrant officer Jennifer Nassery as she rolled her eyes. Then, turning, she yelled to the rest of the gunship crew. Let's get it refueled and reloaded, and call maintenance up here to get the dash 20 and dash 30 level checks done, then, for God's sake, someone opened the window slats in the cockpit. The hangar bay was abuzz with organized chaos,

as marine platoons left the carrier aboard Helios gunships on missions, while other marine platoons, such as the fourth platoon, returned from missions. Meanwhile, maintenance and refueling operations were being conducted on squadrons of aerospace fighters, while yet other fighters were being launched above decks for escort and patrol missions. Although the USS Kitty Hawk had only one week left on station before heading back to the San Diego orbital base, it didn't mean that her operational tempo was going to slack off. The Kitty Hawk's crews would be busy almost until the hour she was scheduled to leave station to be replaced by the assault carrier USS Ranger.

Lieutenant Gabriel watched Jennifer disappear into the hold of her gunship, talking with the maintenance chief about an issue with two of the gunship starboard maneuvering thruster controlings. He walked around to the back of the gunship, pulling Staff Sergeant Boyer aside and telling his first squad leader that he'd be in charge of the Batoon while he went to brief the Delta Company commander on their mission. He instructed Boyer to make sure that the platoon got fed and showered after the squad and team leaders ensured that all the equipment was clean and serviceable, and function checks were conducted on all the weapons and turned into the company's arms room.

He also wanted all ammunition accounted for, and called for all NCOs. to be in the company conference room in two hours. By this time, post-mission activities were all routine for this well-oiled platoon of combat-season Marines, but Lieutenant Gabriel still had to go through the formality of telling Staff Sergeant Boyer what he expected during his absence. Boyer was smoking. What? said Lieutenant Gabriel.

My brother manages a hotel on the Vegas Strip. Boyer's thin mustache curled up like a smiley face. I can get you and Warren Officer Nazari a good. deal on a room when we get back. Shut up, said Gabriel, laughing. He turned and left the hangar, knowing that his platoon was in good hands, and stepped through a hatch which would lead down to a lower desk where the two companies and Marines were housed. We didn't even notice when the VIP's fancy civilian, Saab Lear shuttle took on.

The commander of Delta Company was a short and stocky Marine named Captain Marco Sims, who liked his briefings just like he was, short, to the point, and with no bullshit. He'd been Delta Company commander for the past two and a half years, and was up for promotion to Major once this deployment was over. Lieutenant Gabriel liked Captain Sims, as he was one of those rare commanders who never micromanaged his company and trusted his platoon leaders to actually lead their Marines with minimal supervision, but with maximum command support. I am not going to shit you, Sam. said Captain Sims.

The Vice President's son and Senator Hillary's daughter threatening to bring you up on war crimes accusations for destroying the Mount Cabaroo. But the Vig card fees which you sent back, along with the final vid fees we received from the crew, the Montcaburu, before they all morphed into real-life House Angels, more than support your initial reports of what happened during your mission. You have my full support as well as the support of the Detachment Commander

and the Commander of the Cahawk. "'El, even fleet command will vouch that you'd fully follow the rules of engagement for this type of incidents.' "'No good deed goes unpunished, sir,' said Gabriel, "'finly taking a sip of real coffee that he'd snagged from the galley.' "'Yeah,' agreed Captain Sims. "'I'd expect them to file some kind of complaint after their little jaunt to Willow's world is complete, "'especially since Little Chensy put the former VP's son down on the deck. again it probably won't go anywhere but it will more than likely show up on your fit rep when you come up for promotion lieutenant gabriel shook his head wondering how bad he would really have been if jennifer had actually ejected senator killery's daughter into space he closed his eyes trying but failing to remove such an unprofessional thought from his head willows well he said instead yeah apparently there's some local disturbance there and the people

popular narrative that's being broadcast on our favorite galactic news network is that the colonists are protesting against the president's oppressive and racist policies against the outer ring colonies. Well, the former vice president and Senator Killery are looking to unseat the president in the fall, so they had sent their kids to Willow's World to address their issues against President Helania so that they can use it to hurt her in the elections. Gotta love politicians, said Lieutenant Gabriel, remembering something. something Hunter Hiding said about his father wanting to defund the military. Create the narrative, then set out to prove the narrative's true.

I'm glad we aren't part of that circus side-shend. Same here, said Captain Sims. I'd almost rather turn down my promotion to Major, and Forgo's sure duty at some earth-based to stay deployed out here in space where we're safe from all that political bullshit. Oh, I'll drink to that, sir, said Gabriel, raising his cup of coffee to his commander. Anyway, Sam, good job, said Captain Sims.

You completed the mission and brought all your Marines home. Can't say the same for golf companies, First Platoon. What happened with them? asked Gabriel, remembering that he and the Golf Company First Platoon leader graduated OCS together in Quantico. Well, they were doing initial recon on WNR 19C, a class one low graph planet. 67% of the Earth's gravity.

Dense jungle. Lots of indigenous wildlife. Floating mountains. That kind of shit. Said Captain Sims. They were using hoverpacks and were floating about 30 feet above the jungle canopy, doing aerial mapping of terrain features. And they came across a long and wide canyon.

The canyon is deep and dropped into darkness. Headen motion sensors indicated a mass of life forms were living down in that canyon. but the platoon leader still ordered his Marines to jet across as their LZ was tanked clicks to the east of the current location. While the Marines were still floating about 30 feet above the canyon, there are hoverpacks taking almost 20 seconds to cover the 200-meter wide gap when suddenly the heat and motion senses indicated that the mass of life forms inside the canyon was rising.

Most of the platoon had already made it across to the other side, but something thin, pink, sticky and long, had suddenly shut up from the canyon and wrapped itself around the Marine, who was tail end Charlie of the platoon, and yanked her down into the darkness. The rest of the baton began unloading at whatever it was that was climbing out of the canyon. It wasn't a massive life-forms, but one giant one. Well, there Vigam showed what looked to be some kind of giant red dinosaur-looking iguan a dragon, about 80 feet long. Still had half of the dead marine in its mouth. Anyway, They hit the thing with their 20mm canyon and 35mm auto grenades until it toppled back into the canyon.

But all that firing had stirred up a bunch of long-neaked-flown alligator things with web wings which flew out of the canyon. The Marines had to land to avoid being bitten by the damn things and hump the remaining ten clicks to the clearing where their gunship could land and extract them. They returned to the Cahawk two days ago. Concluded Captain Sims. Do we know the Marines' name who died? said Gabriel. Private Melly, said Sims, brand new, just graduated Paris Island a few months ago.

So first deployment. Anyway, since we only lost one marine during the initial recon, the big global corporations will more than likely want to begin research, colonization, and exploitation efforts within the next year or two on player WNR.019C. Gabriel nodded, glad that he did not know a private Melly. When he had the chance, he'd make his way to golf company's area and offer his condolences to his friend. He knew from experience that it was hard for a new platoon leader to lose a Marine.

Anyway, continued Captain Sims. First and third platoons will be returning from their mission sometime within the next 48 to 72 hours, and second will be back sometime after that. Your fourth platoon has downtime for the next 48 hours, after which fourth platoon would be the ready platoon should any other mission come along. I'll have either thirst or third relieve you afterwards. Although this close to us leaving the station, I don't expect that we'll be handling any more missions.

In the meantime, get some rest and see about reserving your vacation in Vegas. It's the tourist season, so you'll need to get him in early. Good to go, sir, said Lieutenant Gabriel, coming to attention and saluting his commander, all the while wondering if there wasn't anyone on the US Kitty Hawk that didn't know about him and warrant officer nursery. He had enough time to take a long hot shower and get dressed in a clean set of duty uniforms before heading down to the galley for a sandwich and another mug of coffee. Refilling his mug again, he strolled back into the Delta Company conference room where he had his debriefing with the commander earlier.

As expected, his three squad leaders, Staff Sergeant Talley, Staff Sergeant Talley, Staff Sergeant. Boyer and Sergeant Hernandez were there along with team leaders Sergeant Barlow and Corporal Hatcher of first squad, Corporal Coddle, Corporal Parker of second squad, and Sergeant Watson and Corporal Palcovich of third squad. Although corporals weren't officially considered NCOs, they were still given the duties of NCOs and Lieutenant Gabriel felt that it was important that his corporals also attended his NCO leader meetings as it gave them more experience and insight into their duties once they finally advanced in rank to become actual sergeants. Sending his subordinates up for success in the Corps was a big thing for Lieutenant Gabriel,

and his corporals appreciated him for it, although it did mean that they had less downtime than the lower-ranking Marines. After getting confirmation from his first-line leaders that all gear had been serviced, cleaned and stowed and damaged or non-mission-capable equipment had been turned into supply, Gabriel debriefed his Marines on the mission, which should have been which they'd just undertaken, congratulating them on a near textbook operation. He then conducted a detailed after-action review, or AAR, going over every action that each team and each squad

and each individual Marine had taken in order to examine what went right, what went wrong, and what could have been improved upon for later subsequent missions. Gabriel never rushed his AARs and took extensive notes on the opinions and suggestions from his NCOs in order to incorporate them into future training scenarios. He then briefed his NCOs on the loss of the Marine in Golf Company, encouraging his Marines to go over and give their condolences and support their sister company

in the tradition of Espreda Corps, which made the Marine Corps unique among all other branches of service. Finally, he informed his first-line leaders that they were off duty for the next 48 hours and to relax and decompress, as they should be the ready platoon after their four-fours. 48-hour downtime was over. However, seeing as they were so close to leaving station, this was likely their last mission of the deployment. Congratulating them once again on a job well done throughout the last 15 months, he gave his NCOs one last assignment to submit the recommendation paperwork for their subordinates to receive awards and honors. In particular, he wanted to submit

little private first-class Chenzsche recommendation for award as she literally ran her flame gun dry holding off the mutated human creatures at a particularly narrow corridor inside Mont Cabaroo as they made their withdrawal to the airlock. Not a bad feat, considering Chensi wasn't even of legal age to drink yet. The briefing lasted close to two hours before Lieutenant Gabriel finally released his first-line leaders for the day. Usually he was loath to keep them so long, but seeing as this would likely be his last briefing with them before the Cahawk made its way back to earth, he felt it was appropriate.

Once the Kitty Hawk entered hyperspace, his Marines would have next to nothing to do for the next six days until the carrier came out of hyperspace around Uranus's orbital path, after which the Kitty Hawk would basically coast for the next day or so, while her reverse thrusting engines slowed her speed until the assault carrier finally reached Earth orbit. Lieutenant Gabriel ascended up one level to where the Marine officer's quarters were located. Though his quarters were still cramped, he had considerably more space than his in-lawful. enlisted Marines, who usually slept six or seven to obey. He shared his quarters with one other Marine officer, a gunship pilot who was currently out on mission with the second platoon, Delta Company, and not scheduled to return for at least three to five days. Finally, alone for the first time in almost two weeks, Gabriel again fished out his data pad from his rucksack and wracked his head on how to submit his report without sounding like he rode it in Creel. Of all, the

the myriad subjects which he excelled at during OCS and the Marine Corps advanced infantry space terrestrial combat leadership course, report writing was his kryptonite. After about three minutes, he was fast asleep. Lieutenant Samuel Gabriel to the tactical operations center. Lieutenant Gabriel to the T.O.C. came a robotic sounding voice over the ship's internal com system, which echoed down the marine barracks area inside Lieutenant Gabriel's quarters. Gabriel's brain said, Oh shit, before he became fully awake. It had been five days since his fourth platoon had returned to the USS Kitty Hawk from their mission,

and only 48 hours before the K-Hawk was to leave station. The USS Ranger had already arrived on station three days ago, cruising 30 clicks off of the K-Hawk starboard side, as the K-Hawks crew conducted the battle handoff to the newly arrived assault carrier. 48 hours. The powers that be couldn't give fourth platoon 48 freaking hours before something called, needing his marines to save their asses from space boogeyman. But to be fair, first and third platoons had only returned two days ago,

so they were still technically on their 48-hour downtime, while second platoon returned to the K-Holt just ten hours ago. Gabriel's roommate, the gunship pilot working with the second platoon, was in his rack snoring. Groaning, Lieutenant Gabriel rolled out of his rack and pulled on his duty uniform top. He considered getting in a quick shave,

but decided against it and quickly made his way to the TOC, which was several levels above where the Marines were staying, in a part of the assault carrier's superstructure that overlooked the flat tops hangar deck and fighter-launched platforms. He entered the very well-lit tactical operation centre with its 3D navigational tactical maps of the rim worlds, galactic positioning and tracking matrix of all space-borne traffic lanes

and hyperspace jump points, as well as countless other data streams which were projected on monitors and computer screens and watched over by dozens of fleet personnel. On the large conference table that was a centerpiece of the TOC, the 3D image of a planet was suspended over a circular projector in the middle of the table. At the table studying the rotating planetary image, was not only Captain Sims, the Delta Company commander, but also Major Harfaker, the Marine Battalion's detachment commander,

as well as Captain von Luck, the USS Kitty Hawks commanding officer, and Rear Admiral Hipper, the Naval Fleet commanding officer, as well as several other officers who outranked Lieutenant Gabriel. Immediately he regretted not getting a shave, but still entered the TOCs if he owned it. He came to attention and offered a sharp salute to the Assembly. officers, but faced Rear Admiral Hopper, the senior ranking officer. Lieutenant Gabriel, fourth platoon Delta, reporting as orders. At ease, Lieutenant Gabriel, said Rear Admiral Hipper.

Thank you so much for quickly coming. Please step up to the conference table. I apologize for calling you. I know you and your Marines have just come off a mission, but this developing situation is critical. No need to apologize, sir. That's what the Marines are here for. Lieutenant Gabriel approached the conference table, nodding to Captain Sims and Major Harfaker who, in return, nodded back.

He studied the 3D projection of the rotating planet displayed, hovering two feet above the table. The illuminated data plaque projected underneath the planet red? Planet B.H.O.66A. Class 1. Atmosphere. Breathable. No external tanks required. gravity 0.982% less than Earth.

And Gabriel's heart sank when he read the planet's name. Name designation, Willow's world. Commander Dixon, said Admiral Hipper, turning to a slender female naval officer whose light brown hair was tied in a tight bun behind her head. Could you please give us a brief rundown on the latest history of planet E.H.O.66A. called Willow's World.

Yes, Admiral, Commander Dixon, the Naval Intelligence Officer began. Planet B.H.0666A. named Willowselt after the astrophysicist Carter Willow, who discovered it while charting the Rim Worlds a decade ago. It was finally colonized eight months ago when the coloniser ship, CSNS-Sidney Point, reported that she was in orbit around the planet and was preparing to make planet fall. Like all Magellan-class colonizer ships,

The Sydney Point is large, roughly the size of one of our triumph-class carriers, and holds approximately 6,000 colonists and crew, along with equipment, vehicles, terraforming modules, and construction materials to begin building a viable and profitable colony. Before descending, the CSNS reported a slight anomaly on the planet's surface, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and there were no distress or alert beacons which followed. That was the last transmission we received from the Sydney Point.

We've not heard from the Willers World Colony since then, and they've missed their monthly status reports back to Earth. This is not unusual as we have very few retrans satellites out in the Rim Worlds, so, while rare, it's not beyond the norm for colonizer transmissions to not reach Earth for months after their broadcast. For instance, Sophia Colony was dark for two and a half months before we received word that their colony was up and running, and Beltmore Six was dark for three months before. before he got word that they were progressing nicely.

But eight months is a long time for a coloniser ship to go dark, said Lieutenant Gabriel. Agreed, said Commander Dixon. It is. We assume it may be because of some atmospheric or solar interference, which may be hampering any communications. Plus, we do not have any retrans satellites in that sector, so a transmission from Willow's world will likely take longer than usual to be received.

So we'll be doing sort of a health and welfare inspection for the Willow War colony, said Gabriel. Well, not exactly, said Admiral Hipper. I mean, your mission is to ascertain the status of the colonists there, but your platoon's main focus will be asset recovery. Sir, said Gabriel. Another naval commander, this one the chief operations officer, spoke up. About six hours ago, we picked up the following transmission. from the CSNS Newcastle in orbit around Willow's World.

That's the luxury starliner which brought Vice President hiding's son and Senator Hillary's daughter to the planet. Take a listen, he said, signaling a comms technician to replay the transmission. A garbled and heavily static noise filled the room, with warbling that increased and decreased in pitch and tone. Lieutenant Gabriel tilted his head, trying to make out any voices in the sea of static and sound. interference which sounded like electrical ocean waves crashing on shore.

Suddenly, a frantic male voice came over the speakers. Ida. Mayd. C.S. Newcastle being Landed fall. Mayday. Lieutenant Gabriel will lean back, crossing his arms in contemplation.

Sounds like the CSNS Newcastle sent out a Mayday while in orbit above Willow's world. The speaker used the word being, meaning that something external had happened to the ship. And did I hear the words planet fall? That's what we think we heard as well, said Major Halfacre. But the CSNS Newcastle wasn't designed for planet-side landings, as it doesn't have landings trucks. They have landers, but we aren't sure if they launched the surface. Maybe the Newcastle landed in a body of water.

Gabriel speculated. it. Possible, said Admiral Hipper. We don't know for sure. Hell, for all we know, the Willow colony actually did rebel against the government and shot down the Newcastle. We just don't know. That's why we're sending your Marines to find out. In less than an hour, fourth platoon Delta was back aboard their Helios gunship, headed for a rendezvous with the USS Galveston City. A long-ranger-class corvette built for high endurance and speed, which the fleet used for long-range patrols and escort duties. The corvette had a small hangar bay which could only just accommodate the Marines gunship and Lieutenant Gabriel addressed his

platoon as they sat beside their gunship. So we lost contact with the ship that brought the Vice President hiding son and Senator Killary's daughter to Willerswell. He began. They were in orbit around the planet when they sent a distress, Zinolson, we assume that they were making planet fall. Do the colonists attack them? Our starry, Sgt. Talley. Maybe Seashell Killery was right after all, and the colonists did actually rebel against the government. Well, that is one of many assumptions and possibilities which we are being dispatched to find out, although the equipment manifest of the colonizer vessel does

not include service to space weaponry. Still, if the colonizers do prove to be hostile, our rules of engagement are not to engage, if at all possible. Our overarching objective is to secure Miss Seashell Killery and and Mr. Hunter hiding, along with the other occupants of the CSNS Newcastle, and returned them to Earth. What was the manifest of the Newcastle, sir? Asked Sergeant Boyer. Lieutenant Gabriel pulled out his data pad and scrolled to the mission objectives, which the operations officer had downloaded.

Okay, he said. The CSNS Newcastle had a complement of 22, including 16 ships' crew, the four hired security bodyguards and the two VIPs from the opposition party sent to show solidarity with the colonists against the current administration. All those emissaries, of course, were seashell, killery and hunter hiding. I'll send the mission and concept of operations to each of the squad leaders' data pads for you to study, including planetary specs and potential opposing force hostiles. As usual, we have very little to go on, so stay flexible and ready for anything. The Garveston City will be entering hyperspace in an hour or so,

so let's make sure we've secured everything down and be in your assigned restraining seats in 30 miles. The trip to Willers' world will take about three days. The Kitty Hawk is going to stay on station until we return. The first 20 to 30 minutes of hyperspace travelled is the hardest for the human body as the ship increases to beyond the speed of light. The restrictor seats basically keep the body still,

as face marks force feed oxygen into the lungs, while air bladders built in the seats expand and contract to assist in the flow of blood to the rest of the body. Once the ship reaches its light cruising speed, the ship's internal gravity compensators kick in, adjusting for forward velocity and inertia. It takes the average person roughly 15 to 30 minutes to get over the vertigo feeling,

but they usually recover with no significant after-effects. Once the compensators activate, The Marines were basically free to move about the ship until it was time to emerge from hyperspace, when the process of securing the restrictor seats is repeated again while the ship decelerated into real space. Outside the bog-head port windows shone with a brilliant bright white, as all of the stars in the galaxy emerged into one colour, as they zoomed past at incredible speeds as the Corvette reached light cruising speed. There was a small galley in the Corvette,

and most of the Marines spent the next three days eating, cleaning and servicing their weapons, playing virtual games or sleeping. BFC Houser's classical movie collection was fast becoming popular with his fellow young Marines, and they watched over and over with great fascination a vintage Marine Corps training video called Full Metal Jacket, which showed the arcane ritual of ancient Marine Corps recruits, murdering their drill instructors at the end of each training cycle. If modern-day Marines were tough, they were nothing compared to the Marines of the 1960s. Now, for his part, Lieutenant Gabriel kept playing possible scenarios over and over again in his head.

There was something that didn't add up in this mission, but then again, nothing ever did add up when you had absolutely no idea what you were heading into. The crew of the CSNS-S Sydney Point, the coloniser ship that originally landed on Willow's World, had said something about an anomaly on the planet's surface before it attempted to planet fall. After that, all comms were lost with the ship. The opposing party emissaries, led by hunter-hiding and seashell killery, then travelled to the planet on a goodwill mission, assuming that all was well and the communications blackout was simply the result of the colonists staging a revolt against a president that was disliked immensely by her political rivals.

Now, that was a very big jump in logic. to take, but logic wasn't really what you should expect from politicians who desperately wanted to win an election. The popular political narrative was that the colonists of Willow's world were staging a protest against the alleged president's racism and bigotry against the outer rim world and, come hell or high water, the popular political narrative was going to be the truth, whether the truth liked it or not. Three days later the marines unstrap themselves from their restraining chairs which line both sides of the Corvette's bulkhead, with a second row of seats which ran down the middle.

The porthole windows darkened again as the stars stopped zooming past and the galaxy began to look normal once again. Deceleration to real space has been achieved. Came the static-sounding voice over the intercom of the Corvettes commander. Secure from hyperspace. We will continue deceleration in real space for the next nine hours until we reach Willow's world orbit. Lieutenant Gabriel unstrapped quickly,

ignoring the slight vertigo that racked his body as he stood up. Squad leaders, give me a thumbs up when your squads are ready to go. He said as he exited the bay which contained the platoon's restraining chairs. Walking to the rear of the bay, he crossed over a hash to a small metal landing which overlooked the hangar bay. Descending the metal stairs, he walked the gunship sitting in the middle of the hangar. Warrant Officer Nasri, her navigator and her gunner rode out the deceleration from hyperspace inside the gunship

as the padded seats in the cockpit were much more comfortable than the regular restricted seats that the regular grunts had to strap into. By the time Gabriel got there, Jennifer and her crew were already up and performing post-hyperspace deceleration checks on the gunship, ensuring that it was mission-capable when the time came to drop into Willow's world. Gabriel caught up to Jennifer as she checked the actuating links of the two maneuvering thrusters which needed adjusting. How do we look, Jen? We good? Nope, said Jennifer. She'd been in a foul mood ever since they left the Kitty Hall.

You're still mad that politicians wouldn't authorise you to upload any ordinance on the gunship, said Gabriel. Not even one damned 35-mig round. We're a gunship. "'Hell, it's in the name. "'Gone! "'How the hell are we supposed to support you "'if we don't have anything to fire?' "'It was literally a last second decision

"'made by the politicians back on Earth. "'An hour before the Helios gunship left the K-Hawk "'to link up with the Galvison City, "'the civilian bigwigs, half a galaxy away, "'ordered that no ordinance was to be loaded on the gunship, "'to prevent unintended civilian casualties. "'The order was signed by Senator William J. G. Killery himself. All ordnance had to be removed from the gunship, effectively making her a simple,

unarmed transport. Oh, how a civilian overlords know best, said Gabriel. Besides, you can still scout for us. We're the ones that will be boots on the ground, he said, trying and failing to sound optimistic. When out-of-touch civilian politicians dictated military operations from posh air-conditioned offices, light years away from where the danger was occurring, more Marines tended to fill bore body bags at the end of the mission. This is bullshit, Sam, said Jennifer. We never go into unknown situations with our hands tie behind our backs. It's crazy.

We can call for orbital fire support from the Corvette, said Gabriel. If we have calms from the ground, said Jennifer. Remember that both the Newcastle and the Sydney Point had communication issues once they reached orbit. And I'll use your gunship as a communication relay to the Corvette, said Gabriel. The gunship pilot threw up her hands in frustration and rolled her eyes. Why the hell should a ground maneuver element need to use a gunship as radio retrans for orbital fire support when the gunship should have all the fire support right there ready to go? Plus the gunship is only a few clicks away from the grunts we're supporting.

The damn Corvette's going to be in orbit. And that's why Gabriel loved Jen so much. She was a true Marine, dedicated and determined to support the grunts who were boots on the ground. She was passionate about getting in and helping her fellow warriors, no matter what type of damage her gunship may take. Ever since close air support was invented, Marine pilots were the best in the galaxy, and Jen had proven to be one of the best of the best. Gabriel pursed his lips, rubbing his chin in thought. Senator Killery personally signed the order, saying that no ordinance was to be loaded on the gunship, he said.

"'Assol!' said Jennifer. "'But I didn't see the order saying that ordinance couldn't be loaded inside the gunship,' said Gabriel. Jennifer's eyes sparkle, green as she smiled. Four hours later, Lieutenant Gabriel, warrant officer Nazri, the Covettes commander, Lieutenant Commander Travis, and his chief ordinance office, Lieutenant Sunyi, was standing inside the cargo bay of the gunship. With all of the ordnance reload containers removed, there was plenty of space for their impromptu, though, technically unauthorized ordinance load-out.

They stared down at two aluminum pallets, on which was securely strapped down two MK67 388-millimeter torpedoes. They were an older model anti-shipping torpedo that was currently being replaced in the fleet by the more modern MK81, and the USS Galveston City had 16 of the older models in her arsenal. Fortunately, Fleet Command had ordered the USS Galveston to expand all of her MK67 torpedoes in live fire training exercises prior to her returning to Earth so that they could convert the newer torpedoes. Will this work?

asked Warrant Officer Nasri. Oh, it'll work, said Lieutenant Sunier, the female ordinance officer. We've removed the internal guidance systems and the primary and secondary propellant sources from these torpedoes and filled the space with additional explosives, in effect making each of these torpedoes a 350-pound dom bomb. The fuses have been set to PD, or point detonating, but we've also installed secondary detonators that are set to go off five seconds after the ordinance leaves the gunship, or bomb ship, as it were. You can use the retractable rollers in the cargo bay to roll the ordinance out of the bow. ramps flying straight and level, but I would suggest you pitch up at an angle of at least 15 to 20 degrees before rolling them out to give yourself a greater measure of safety and accuracy. Keep in mind, said Lieutenant Commander Travis, the Corvettes Commander. This isn't the most accurate

way of ordnance delivery. Dropping bombs out of the back of a gunship isn't the most optimal cause of action. Remember that you'll have to calculate angle, trajectory, arc, wind speed, gravitational pull and even then weapon delivery on target will be tricky. I'd say any attempt to deliver the ordinance within 500 metres of friendly forces would be dangerously close. Warrant Officer Nasri nodded, looking at her weapon systems officer. Think you can handle those calculations, Aaron? I'm from Kentucky, second Lieutenant Erin Vargas said. Windage is my specialty.

A few hours later they'd assembled again on the bridge. bridge of the corvette. Gabriel also had his squad leaders with him, although that made the cramped bridge feel even tighter, but they needed to know what they were inserting into. The Galveston City was well within range to pick up Willow's world on long-range monitors, and Commander Travis had it pulled up and magnified on the large display screen. What they saw was a planet roughly 91% the size of Earth, which boasted green continents and bright blue seas, which seemed to cover a third of the planet. White blankets of clouds floated lazily overhead,

presenting the picture of an almost perfect-looking class-1 planet. Life scans revealed a multitude of carbon-based organic life forms on the surface of the planet and in the seas, but there were no traces of radio signals or any other technologically produced communications. Well, this was troubling as if the colony had successfully landed or if hiding or Killery's ship were in the area, there would certainly have been some type of indication,

even if the Corvette's planet-scanning sensors weren't as powerful or sophisticated as her larger-class sister ships. We have achieved orbit, sir. Approximately 250 miles above her surface, announced the helmsman. Very good, Lieutenant, said Travis. Keep us steady on this orbital trajectory. Let's do a few sensor passes before we commit to anything.

A few moments passed as the lovely blue-green planet, so much like her, rotated serenely below. Suddenly, a chief petty officer monitoring the topographic scanners announced, Sir, I've got an anomaly on what appears to be the northern continent just above the planet's equator. Put it on screen, please, Chief Morgan, said Commander Travis. The second screen appeared, overlaying the main viewing screen as Chief Morgan magnified what his sensitive picked up on the surface. In the middle of what appeared to be a lush, green, unspoiled landscape of rolling hills, mountains and plains, sat a dark grey patch of land which seemed to be stamped right in the middle of its surroundings. This dark patch of land looked to resemble dead earth

and was roughly circular in shape. Diagnostics, Chief Morgan, said Commander Travis. I'll censor test the green, sir, answered Chief Morgan. That is no glitch. whatever that anomaly is is actually on the surface of the planet Helmsman said Travis Put us in geosynchronous orbit Over the anomaly

Chief Morgan Magnify the anomaly to maximum Aye sir Said Morgan The dark anomaly increased on the monitor Now revealing the giant slabs of basalt Coloured rock Deep crevices and desolate canyons

Of the black dead landscape and ships. Dozens and dozens of derelict-looking ships of all sizes and shapes littered the ground for miles around and seemed to have been rotting on the surface of the planet for untold eons. Their destroyed hulking shells towered above the bleak and forlorn landscape. Whatever the ship's original colours were, they were all now black with age and covered in ash and soot

and displayed varying stages of decay. None of them seemed to be of human origin or of earthly design. There was a collective gasp in the bridge, as Commander Travis said. Chief, what is the area of land we're looking at? Sir, said Chief Morgan. This topographical anomaly is roughly 122 miles in diameter, and... Hang on, sir. Sir, there seems to be some kind of slight energy spike coming from the exact centre

of the anomaly. Part 3. Realline and put it up on the monitor chief, ordered Travis. In the exact centre of the circle of dead earth, the image of a black horn-shaped structure seemed to spike out of a black rock mound and reached into the air.

At the very tip of the structure, a growing orb of red light glowed. Sir, said an ensign at another console, and picking out faint life signals about five miles south of that energy spike. It looks like the... the Newcastle? Overlayed on the screen, Ensign, said Travis, and immediately the mangle remains of what was unmistakably the CSNS Newcastle appeared on the main monitor.

Warrant Officer Nasri turned to Lieutenant Gabriel, wondering how anyone could have survived that crash. The sleek luxury liner, which was roughly 85 metres long, seemed to have fallen straight down on top of a massive slab of rock which was jelling out of the ground. It was broken into two pieces, as if the rock had broken a spine. Ensign, said Lieutenant Gabriel. You can pan riding up, roughly north-east of the Newcastle. Roger, sir, replied the Ensign, as he adjusted the long-range sensor camera in the direction which Lieutenant Gabriel had requested. The sensor monitor rested on the image of a starship, which seemed to have crashed on the planet in the same fashion. It was broken into three pieces

and seemed to be much newer than the other derelict ships which had met their weird fate on the surface of the planet. August, please, Ensign, said Commander Travis. Roger, sir, we're getting some type of atmospheric interference, but we should get a better visual right about now. Oh, good lord. There, sitting roughly two miles north of the Newcastle, sat the remains of the gigantic coloniser ship, CSNS-Sidney Point,

which once housed six thousand souls. Her once majestic and sleek lines, painted a bright white with stripes of bold reds and black, was now a rotting wreck of degrading ruin. Judging by the condition of the ship, it seemed to have been in that condition for almost a year. No sooner had the bridge crew aboard the USS Galveston City registered this, and the glowing red orb which hovered above the black horn-shaped structure

expanded into a brilliant white light. Energy spikes, sir, shouted Chief Morgan, as a thin but blindingly brilliant beam of light shot from the horn-shaped structure, reaching with incredible speed through the atmosphere into space. The USS Galveston City lurched heavily from the force of the impact, which actually pushed the ship two miles beyond its geosynchronous orbit.

Most of the crew were thrown to the deck as the Corvette listed violently to port. Main power to the bridge shut off and emergency generators kicked in as the warbling wail of warning sirens screamed. All of the bridge monitors and sensors went offline as main visual monitors turned to static. Wall and ceiling panels buckled and fell as electrical cables and wires fell around them like sparkling tentacles throughout the ship. Get internal calms back up, said Commander Travis as he climbed back into his chair. Get me engineering. Lieutenant Gabriel had been knocked to the.

the deck, along with the rest of his marines, when the beam of light struck the corvette, but recovered quickly. He reached down and pulled Warren Office and Nuzri up off the ground, then quickly ran around to check on the rest of his squad leaders. Aside from a few minor bumps and bruises, his marines were none the worst for wear. The Galveston City was purpose-built to be rugged in order to endure the ravages of long space patrols, and her internal compensators, which instantly adjusted the pressures to adapt to the sudden impact, no doubt, save many lives. There's an area of roughly

20 feet square at the bottom of the ship which has suffered some structural weakness, reported the chief engineer. Structural integrity at that area is down to 87%. Can you put it on visual, chief? said commander Travis. Working on it, sir, said Chief Morgan. Helmsman, I need you to right this ship. We're descending

towards the planet, said Travis. Roger, sir, said the helmsman. Our main engines were briefly not marked offline, but they're coming up now. Our maneuver thrusters are at 91% now and rising. All divos. I need a casualty and damage report ASAP, said Commander Travis. Chief Morgan, where's my visual? Up, sir, said Chief Morgan. The main monitors blink to life as Chief Morgan adjusted the external monitors to where the chief engineer said the structural weakness had occurred. focusing the cameras to a roughly 20 foot square area just after the ship between the

Corvette's two main power thrusting engines and the lower main maneuvering wings, the image revealed a thin reddish-white beam of light, reaching up from the planet which had attached itself to the ship. That thing's got us hooked, sir, said the helmsman, like a tongue shooting up from a dark canyon to snatch a marine out of the sky, thought Lieutenant Gabriel. Can we pull free, Anson? said Commander Travis, staring intently at the beam of light which had hold of his vessel. Negative, sir, said the helmsman. Even with our maneuvering thrust is added to our main engine power,

we're producing 0.086 less power than the force which is trying to pull us down to the planet. Engineering, said Travis into the ship's internal coms. Can you give me more power? Not much more, sir, replied the chief engineer. We can maybe equalize the resisting force, but that'll only hold for a few hours before the engine strain will result in us bleeding off too much power. That thing has us hooked right under the reactor power core. If you try to overcompensate and pull away, we'd risk weakening the structure and integrity even more on that section of the ship. If that blows, we blow. About how much time do you calculate we have before the engine power goes critical?

About three hours, sir, if we try to equalize the pulling forces to stop our descent. replied the chief engineer. After that, we drop like a rock. Engineering, this is Lieutenant Gabriel, yell Gabriel into the intercom. What if we keep engine power at the 0.086 power deficiency? How much time will we have then? We'll be at a gradual degradation of our current orbit, Lieutenant, said the engineer.

We'll have about eight hours a steady decline before the pull of gravity becomes too great and we drop out of the sky. eight hours said Gabriel looking at his squad leaders I'll take eight hours what do you have in mind lieutenant ask commander Travis we'll take the gunship down to the planet see if we can recover those VIPs then attempt to neutralize that beam which is trying to reel us in I figure if we give ourselves two hours to ingress and egress the area we'll have six hours give or take to accomplish the mission hopefully there aren't many more of those beams down there because if it snags us it's going to be a real short mission all right said commander travis be advised that comms are down no doubt because of interference involving that damned anomaly so we won't know if you are successful or not to wear release from that beam we'll stay in our decaying orbit as long as we can but when orbit becomes critical i'll have to load the crew into the ejection boats hopefully like you said there aren't any more of those beams down there.

In less than ten minutes, the 42 Marines of Fourth Platoon Delta were strapped into the canvas webbing that passed for seats along the cargo bulkhead of the gunship as Warrant Officer Nasri rocketed out of the Corvette's hangar bay. Initially, she moved on a perpendicular course away from the planet,

using the bulk of the corvette as a physical shield just in case another beam rose from the planet. After a few minutes, Nasri reversed course, pointing the nose of the gunship towards a planet and applied full forward thrust, shooting the gunship under the bow of the corvette zooming planet side. The navigator input the plot coordinates of the CSNS Newcastle into the nav telemetry computer of the gunship, calculating the fastest and most direct route to the down luxury cruiser. Hitting the right approach angle, Nasri gently eased the gunship into the upper atmosphere of Willow's world

as the rugged ship's heat shields easily absorb the incredible heat generated by the friction of planet form. Once the gunship entered the thermosphere, the main thrusters shut off and power to the maneuvering thrusters engaged, which would gradually slow the ship's descent. In minutes, the gunship penetrated the planet's mesosphere, bucking in protest as the maneuvering thrusters fought against the pull of gravity. We should have unrestricted vision once we hit the atmosphere, said the navigator, after they entered the stratosphere. High clouds, 14% chance of precipitation,

77 degree ambient temperature on the surface. We'll be breaching the lower stratosphere in 10. 9. 8. Up to now, warrant officer Nazri had just been trying to keep the descent as controlled as possible as hundreds of computers made thousands of adjustments

as second to keep the gunship from going into uncontrolled freefall. As they continued their rapid descent to the planet, she could feel the computer, controls becoming more responsive. Off to her right, the view of a lush and beautiful planet greeted her. The clouds were high, the skies were blue, and the land masses were emblazoned with all shades of greens and browns, whilst the north sat white landmasses of polar ice, all the indications of the almost near perfect class one planets. To her left, however,

a swirling mass of black clouds over a hundred miles in diameter circled over the geographic anomaly like a swarm of angry black locusts. As they penetrated the ozone layer and penetrated the troposphere, she could hear wicked bolts of lightning flashing above the clouds. What the hell? said Nasri. That wasn't on the data telemetry earlier. With the descent from space to planetary atmosphere completed, the gunship's autopilot disengaged, returning flight controls to Nasri. At 44,000 feet, Nazri took control. of the gunship, circling in a wide arc as the gunship descended. She looked in disbelief at the rolling mass of black clouds seeming to boil below them,

while all around it the vista was bright and clear. She stayed at the periphery of the storm clouds until at 33,000 feet. Her navigator announced, Turn 447, Mark 686. Angels 1-20, begin decel to 340. Roger, said Nasri, inputting the data into her guidance computer. A green HUD appeared before her with an image of the gunship superimposed on all available topographic and atmospheric data.

A red crosshair appeared in front of the computerized image of the gunship, indicating that it was still on course as they entered the black cloud bank. There was a sudden jolt as a gunship was buffeted by the winds. Hang on back there, yelled Nasri into the intercom. it's going to get a bit bumpy until we get below these. Shit, yelled the navigator. I just lost all navigational telemetry. Nasri could already see that her navades were showing nothing but static.

Geo map overlay? She said. No good, said the navigator. We're too far up. We'll have to descend lower. Okay, said Nasri. Since we can't trust instruments, I'll have to take manual control.

She looked outside the, vision panels, seeing only grey and black clouds rushing by. Hopefully we'll at least be right side up when we break cloud cover, Nasri yelled. She held the gunship as steady as she could, fighting the buffeting turbulence which threatened to flip them over, if they weren't flipped over already. In minutes, the navigator said, I'm getting some topographical readings. We're about 20,000 feet, lots of ground clutter. As they got closer to the ground, the denser air made the gunship easier to control, and Nasri eased up on the controls, slowing their descent. They were still inside the thick cloud banks, and visibility was still near zero.

Okay, said the navigator, five thousand feet. Our geobapping sensors are operating at about half of its capacity because of the interference, but we should be out from under this overcast in, pull up, pull up, pull up! Instinctively, warrant officer Nazari pulled up sharply, just as what appeared to be a colossal metallic rib cage loomed into view. The bottom of the gunship scraped the metallic structure and bounced sideways as Nasri pulled hard right on the stick. A second curved metallic rib loomed up as the gunship dived, Nasri narrowly missing a collision with what appeared to be a crumbling metallic wall. She spun the gunship into a hover, using the maneuvering thrusters to keep the gunship steady in mid-air. They all looked up, not below.

leaving what their eyes were seeing. Gunship was at a hover about two thousand feet above the ground, and right beside them lay the wrecked form of an alien craft nearly four thousand feet high and over a mile and a half long. It was shaped like a metallic cigar, but with the metallic wrapping peeling away and the innards hanging out. The entire top part of what could be called its fuselage had collapsed, leaving only the giant curving support structures, which resemble a ribcage standing. Staring into the gaping hole of the fusel arch, warrant officer Nasri could see what appeared to be a hundred, if not more, decks to the wrecked ship. The entire craft was an ash and charcoal black colour, as if it had rested here for thousands of years. The crew stared

in breathless awe, both at the sight of such a gigantic craft as well as the knowledge that they had almost crashed into the thing. Nasri gulped, then said, Can you get a fix on the Newcastle? Not with the navades or the guidance telemetry, but if I can pull up the geocordinates at the Newcastle and compare them to our short-range geomap? The navigator punched a few keys on his console, and the geocordinates and geomap display

appeared on Nasri's heads-up display. Hey, look at that, said the navigator. We're only ten miles due east of the Newcastle. Nasri, still breathing hard from their near collision, nodded and turned the gunship to where the geocordinates and the geomap were synchronized into a plot point on the two-dimensional computer-generated map on the H-U-D. How are you guys doing back there? She yelled into the intercom.

We're banged up, but fine, came the voice of Lieutenant Gabriel. I can see what a few of my Marines have for breakfast, though. I don't know what just happened, but let's try not to do that when we leave. No promises, said Narsri. We're about ten miles from the Newcastle. so we'll be on the ground in a few minutes. The Newcastle had come to grief in a shallow depression surrounded by a low ridge.

It looked to have belly flocked, landing slightly on one side, meaning that it did not come in at a steep angle and crash, but rather seemed to have been pulled straight down. The luxury liner was broken in half, and had come to grief bent at an angle with the fuselage tilted to its starboard side by a few degrees. With upper and lower maneuvering wings had clapped, had collapsed from the impact, and the bottom two decks had also crumpled.

Other than that, the luxury liner seemed to be in relatively good condition for a ship that was poured 250 miles straight down out of orbit. Warrant Officer Nazri set the gunship down on a relatively flat part of the rocky terrain, about 50 metres from the Newcastle, and the Marines quickly disembarked out of the back ramp and circled the gunship forming a perimeter. Every Marine was on alert, either prone or on one knee behind. the cover of some rock outcropping, weapons trained in an arc to their front, which would allow interlocking field of fire should the need arise. Each squad had a set of handheld ranging sensors

which not only magnified visuals, but also took motion scans, thermal scans, IR scans, scans, as well as radiological readings. Lieutenant Gabriel went around to each squad, checking with their ranging sensors, and although the interference halved their effective range, Each ranging sensor showed that there was no movement or no heat signatures out to about 200 metres. They were alone on this cold patch of land. Gabriel took the ranging sensor and put the eyepiece up to his eyes, scanning the wreckage of the Newcastle. Although it showed signs of residual heat emanating from its main thrusters and manoeuvring thrusters,

there was no sign of life. Zergan Squad, said Gabriel to staff Sergeant Talley into the platoon net. stay here and secure the perimeter. Keep an eye out for movement and cover our ass. First, third, move out slowly towards the Newcastle. Both squads began manoeuvring over the earth-blasted black landscape, covering the short 50-meter distance to the wrecked starship. It was eerily quiet with no sounds of buzzing insects or carrion birds.

It was as if all living things on the planet shunned this place. Lieutenant Gabriel and his comspec linked to the same. up with Hernandez's third squad and held up a fist to haunt the platoon when there were a few meters from in the wreck. What looked like bits and pieces of flesh and uniforms littered the ground in the area where the ship had broken in half. Lieutenant Gabriel motioned with his finger and Staff Sergeant Boyer's first squad ran into the wreckage, followed closely by third squad, the noise of rocks crunching under their boots. Soon they were surrounded by the mass of the wreckage. Wires and cables still hung from fallen panels and bog heads as the Marines looked around for

bodies. It's weird, sir, said Hernandez. There are body parts and pieces of bodies, but no bodies. Mert's head inside, said Gabriel. The ship had five decks. The upper two decks were in the superstructure and contained the command and navigation. That superstructure had collapsed. The middle deck of the executive VIP suites and the bottom two decks were crew quarters and ship's operations. Roe Squad, take the front part of the ship. We'll take the aft. Let's see if we can locate any signs of the VIPs. Be careful because the ship is more than likely unstable. The ship was leaning at a slight ankle, which made footing tricky as the Marines entered the twisted metal interior of the ship. The deeper they went into the hull, the darker and more foreboding.

Soon the Marines had to switch on their helmet lights and flash beams on their rifles to see inside. All around them, their lights shone on wreckage and debris, but no bodies. Do you think that the bodies got crushed below decks? Asked Private First Class Chensy to Sergeant Hernandez. Possibly, he answered. But even degraded our ranging sensors should be able to pick them up through these thin bulkheads. "'Four actual? This is one actual.' Lieutenant Gabriel's comms came alive with the sound of Staff Sergeant Boyer's voice in the front part of the ship.

"'This is four actual. Go.' "'Hey, sir,' said Boyer. "'No body's in the front part of the ship, but we've got evidence of some kind of struggle. We found one of the security guards submachine guns with his bolt open and an empty mag. There are empty shell casings all around and three empty mags on the ground in a dry pool of blood. "'Rodger, one actual,' said Gabriel. "'Keep searching and stay frosty. "'Keep me updated.'

"'Hey,' said Lance Corporal Mixley, one of the third squad's riflemen. "'Look at this!' Gabriel and Henderson looked to the floor and bulkhead where Mixley was shining his light. Relatively fresh bloodstains were splattered everywhere, along with more pieces of flesh. More disturbingly, a bloody kitchen knife and a few spent shell casings littered the bloody deck. I don't know what happened here, whispered Hernandez, but whatever it was, they went hand-to-hand when they ran out of ammo. Next to the carnage was a half-opened hatch, and a bloody handprint seemed to lead out of it.

Um, said Sergeant Watson to one of the team leaders. Getting a very slight sensor reading from this ranging sensor. It's coming from behind that hatch. Sergeant Watson slowly pushed open the hatch, which creed loudly as it swung backwards and clang against the bulkhead. Slowly peering inside with the light of his rifle, Watson could see that the hatch opened to a shallow stairwell which led down to the lower level. Shining his light downwards into the darkness, the light revealed that the forward portion of that level of the ship had been crushed in the crash. But the half section was relatively undamaged. Down and to the left

was a shut hatch door. Sir, said Sergeant Watson, I've got a stronger heat signature reading. He's coming from inside that hatch. Stay up here, said Lieutenant Gabriel, taking the ranging sensor from Sergeant Watson and looking down the stairs. The boghead looks unstable. Still forced to walk at an angle

due to the way the ship had landed on its side. Lieutenant Gabriel carefully descended the stairwell, looking down and around to shine its helmet light in all directions, just in case something were to jump out of the darkness. Once he hit the lower deck, Sergeant Hernandez followed down the stairs. Once on the lower level, Hernandez stood back to back with Gabriel, pointing his rifle down the corridor. His light showed a bloodied bulkhead and deck, but again, no bodies.

He walked backwards as Gabriel followed forwards a few steps until he was standing in front of the hatch. It was sealed and locked, but the ranging sense had definitely indicated that something warm was moving about on the other side of the hatch. A blood-stained metal plaque next to the hatch read, pantry, painted in fancy gold lettering. Sergeant Hernandez jumped unconsciously as Gabriel banged on the hatch door, yelling, United States Marines, we're here to get you out. His banging, yelling echoed across the crypt-like corridor, but there was no response from within. He banged on the hatch again, repeating, U.S. Marines, we're here to get you out. This time there was an audible gasping and scurrying coming from behind the hatch.

Jensi, yelled Gabriel up the stairs. Flame gun. Several Marines in the upper deck yell for PFC Chensi, followed by the clang, clang of boots stomping down the metal stairs. Gabriel pointed at the hatch and Chensy nodded. Private first-class Chensy set the firing aperture to her flame gun on its lowest setting, one-half millimeter, in effect turning it into a high-eastern. temperature plasma beam. This was the lowest setting before the firing aperture fully closed,

and Chensy had to be careful at the aperture wasn't fully closed when she fired the weapon for obvious explosive reasons. Using the flame gun as a narrow plasma beam used up a lot of energy and it wasn't recommended to be used in this manner for more than a minute because of the high heat being generated. But in only seconds, Chensier cut an 8 inch square section out of the steel bulkhead next to the armour-locked hatch. She then made short work of the two half-inch-thick steel bars which locked the hatch to the pantry, slicing clean through them as if they were sticks of butter. Once the locks were cut, the hatch was thrown open and Sergeant Hernandez burst into the pantry,

followed closely by Lieutenant Gabriel. They were met by the high, shrill, shrieking of someone screaming. It took Sergeant Hernandez some time to calm Hunter hiding down and stop him. from screaming so loudly. But the former Vice President's son was so incoherent and panicked with fear that it was only after the medic, Lance Corporal Chapman injected him with a mild tranquilizer that Hunter hiding finally ceased to become a danger to himself and the Marines. He slumped down on his butt, smiling dumbly and mumbling.

Oh, my God! Screeched Seashell hands over her mouth. She was crouching down next to Hunter, shaking his shoulders. What did you do to him? Oh my God, did you drug him? Oh my God, what took you so long to get here? Oh, my God, you people are going to be in so much trouble for this. Oh, my God.

She was wearing the same white pantsuit combination that the Marines saw her wearing a week ago, although now it was dingy, stained with grey and brown streaks. Check her vials out, would you chaps? Gabriel said as he squatted down next to seashell, are you okay, are you hurt? What happened to you? Where are the crew?

Something grabbed the ship and started to pull us down. She stammered. The ship's captain tried to reverse us out of there, but we didn't have enough power to pull away, and we were slowly pulled to the ground. Gabriel thought for a moment. The beam was only slightly strong enough to slowly bring the Newcastle to the ground.

He didn't crash in flames, but was more of a control crash. The Galveston City has considerably more thrust than a luxury liner, but the beam is using just enough energy to bring the Galvest and crashing down without completely vaporizing it. The same probably happened with the Sydney Point and all of the other wreck ships. That indicated an intelligence behind the anomaly. Her vials are fine, sir, said chaps, removing the velcro bounds which she'd wrapped around her forehead, upper arm and ankle,

which gave readings of the body's vital signs and biometrics, transmitting the information to the medic's patient data pad. Satisfied that seashell was as well as could be expected, Despite minor bruising on her knees and her thighs, Shaps concluded his initial examination of the VIP. Maybe a little dehydrated, but, lucking themselves in the galley, they weren't hunting for food. What happened to the crew, Miss Killari?

said Gabriel. Most of them died in the crash, she said, including the captain and two of my security team. Hunter and I were strapped into our executive crash seats inside the double-reinforced VIP executive suite when the ship went down. We crawled out. We saw Sydney Point in the distance, so while the surviving crew members began trying to repair the communications equipment on the Newcastle,

Hunter sent the remaining two security guards to the Sydney Point to make contact with the colonists. We wanted to let them know that we still stood in solidarity with them against President Helania's hatred and bigotry, and that we were not their enemy. We needed them to know that we're part of the Great Galactic Awakening and understood that they probably built that beam as a defensive measure against President Helani. is hatred and bigotry. So, so you see, we can overcome this miscommunication

and resolve our differences using a conscience of galactic coexistence and without shooting and violence. Part four. Wait, say Gabriel, rubbing his temples. So you're saying that you and your honorage traveled all the way out here to the rim walls

because you thought that the reason why the Willows world colonists cut all communications with us was because they hated the current president and they were protesting against her. Is that what you're saying? What else could it have been? Seashel Killery looked up at Lieutenant Gabriel like he was stupid. I mean, President Helania is a racist bigot who obviously hates the Rimwell colony,

so it's clear that's why Willow's world colonists cut all communications with Earth. It's so obvious. They were protesting. That's why me and Honda came here to show our solidarity with their revolution against President Helania's oppression. Only someone who's not awake and mentally alert to the systemic galactic unfairness that plagues humanity

would have thought it was something else. Have you seen the Sydney Point, ma'am? said Gabriel. It's a dead ship. It crashed, just like yours did. President Helani's fault obviously, said Seashel. Somehow she caused it to crash because of her hatred and bigotry

against the rim worlds and therefore prompting the peaceful colonel to build that beam weapon in self-defense. Private first-class Chensy, who was standing behind Killery, rolled her eyes, then pointed at the barrel of her flame rifle with her finger, then pointed her finger to the back of Killary's head. No, said Lieutenant Gabriel, shaking his head at her in annoyance. Chensy shrugged, pouting. Seashore Killary turned around, looking at Chensy with confusion. Chensy smiled back innocently at the Senator's daughter.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Okay. So what happened to the surviving crew? We didn't see any bodies, just pieces of bodies. What happened? Seashow gulped, suddenly bursting with tears. We were attacked. We were attacked.

They killed the crew. Who? said Gabriel. Who attacked and killed the crew? Well, the colonists. They died and killed all the crew, screamed Seashel. The colonists died and killed. and killed the crew.

Gabriel immediately got on the platoon comms. Heads up, Marines. We may have hostiles in the area. Lock and load and be on the lookout for any movement, particularly any of the colonists. Staff Sergeant Talley, and he just squat outside to secure a perimeter around the Newcastle. Gunship, you see anything?

Negative, replied Warrant Officer Nassery. Our topographic scanners are clear out to a half mile. What's up? Did you make contact with the VIPs? Roger Gunship, said Gabriel. I'll fill you in later after we're sure our perimeter is clear. You turn back to Seashow. What do you mean that they died and killed the crew?

They died and they killed the crew, repeated Seashow. They died and they killed the crew. Hunter and I ran in here and seed ourselves in the pantry. We haven't been outside since. You locked the rest of the crew. crew outside, asked Gabriel. Seycholl stood up, holding her arms across her chest, screaming at the top of her lungs, said Lieutenant Gabriel. No more questions. What's your big plan to get us back to earth?

I want to go home. I want to go home. You'll be in so much trouble with my daddy if you don't get me home. She fell back down next to the babbling hunter hiding, crying. She's a, and shocks her, whispered chaps into Gabriel's ear. You want me to prep another trunk? Lieutenant Gabriel considered it, if only to shut her up. He held up his hand and shook his head. Gabriel turned to his Marines. Private first-class, Chensy, you stay here, secure the side and keep an eye on Miss Killery and Mr. Hiding here.

Chensy looked down at Hunter hiding, sitting on the floor with his legs spayed out in front of him, head lolling to one side and drooling out of his mouth. She rolled her eyes. Sir, why me? Why can't Hauser or Milroy do it? When someone eventually writes our story, I don't want to be known as the Marine that just cut the lock and did absolutely nothing else.

Gabriel looked at Chensy. She was the newest member of the platoon, straight out of Paris Island, just like Private Melly and Golf Company. She wanted to prove herself to her platoon, just like Melly, and this was her first deployment, just like Mellie.

because do it said lieutenant gabriel a little harder than he intended then softening his tone he said besides these VIPs are the primary objective of this mission we need to get them home safe anything happens to them it'll be your ass and our gunship is our ticket out of here so you need to provide overwatch for them while they affect repairs oh sir said chency making no attempt to hide a disappointment. Right, let's move out. Said Gabriel into the platoon's internal comms net. We're headed to the anomaly point. Along the way, we're going to check out the wreckage of the Sydney point. Staff Sergeant Talley? This is Talley, came the second squad leader's voice from outside the ship. Good, thought Gabriel. At least we have internal platoon comms.

Your squad's on point. Plot a path to the anomaly point. Gabriel ordered. Take us near the Sydney Point. We'll give her a quick once over, but priority is to disable that beam. Roger, sir, answered Talley. We're ready to move. Good, answered Gabriel. Staff Sergeant Boyer, your squad has slack, 10 meter spread. Roger that, answered Boyer. Then turning to face Sergeant Hernandez, he said. Your squad's tail end Charlie. Who are, sir? Hernandez replied. Then, turning to change. Henan Des pointed to her, then to his own eyes, then pointed to the two VIPs. Comprehending? he said.

Anything happens to them and this mission is a bust. Yes, Sergeant, she said. Let's move, said Gabriel, grabbing up his M8-8 rifle, and in seconds the platoon was assembled in the designated March order formation outside of the wreckage of the CSNS Newcastle. Talley put Corporal Parker's team on point, and join them at the head of the column leading the 41 Marines of the 4th Platoon Delta on a path which would bring them close to where the Sydney Point rested about one and a half miles away. About three miles to the northwest of the Sydney Point,

slightly offset to the left on what appeared to be a pyramid-shaped granite mound, was the needle-light peak from which the red beam was shooting into space. Gabriel ran to the gunship, filling Nazary in on what they'd found in the wreckage of the Newcastle, that they were preparing to march to the Sydney point and onwards to the beam. For her part, Nasri filled Gabriel in on the status of their gunship. Several systems on the gunship were damaged during the landing, which would affect their navigation and re-entry into orbit. She was hoping the systemic failures were because of the anomaly

and not because of any internal damage. There was structural damage under the fuselage when they struck the wreckage of the alien ship, and the lifting arm which actuated the rollers of the hangar bay was inoperable. meaning that they wouldn't have the ability to roll the explosive out the back if they needed to. It would take hours for her, the gun and the navigator to clear up the ship for upper atmosphere flight again, since this was a task usually handled by entire maintenance systems crew. Don't you do anything to ruin my Vegas vacation? Nazri said, pointing an accusing finger at Gabriel as he left to join his platoon.

He nodded back, getting the message. His Marines began their road march to the Sydney Point, which was visible in the distance, resting on a plateau rising above a mass of jumbled rock slabs. They descended off of the rise they were on, then followed a wide ravine which ran roughly due north. Above them, the black clouds whipped and whirled, and cold winds blew, but no rain fell upon the patch, cracked earth. The dry black ground was strewn with rocks which threatened to twist feet and ankles. Watch your steps, Marines, yelled the squad leaders. ain't no one here going to carry you back if you hurt yourself.

Lieutenant Gabriel, his Comspec Lance Corporal Magas, and the platoon medic Lance Corporal Chapman warped with Staff Sergeant Boyes' squad in the middle of the column. Any calms with the Galveston City, Magas? Still nothing, Alty, replied Magas. Okay, Gabriel said, not thinking that there would be. They'd lost calms with the Galveston City when the platoon entered this topographical anomaly.

switch the comms channel with the Galvison to receive only. Let's save that battery power. Don't lose comms without gunship. She's our only ticket out of here. We've got good line of sight comms with her out to about three clicks, said Magus. But beyond that, I can't promise anything, sir. Okay. Keep me updated if anything changes, said Gabriel.

Though the planet looked lush and thriving from orbit, the area which the Marines were walking in looked as if it had been dead, untold millions of years. Absolutely nothing lived in this bleak and barren wasteland, with its slabs of flat black rock jutting up from the ground at unnatural angles, canyons of sheer black granite walls and miles and miles of black rocky plains filled with nothingness. The sky was dark and foreboding, appearing more like a stormy evening that threatened tornadoes, although it was technically mid-morning on this hemisphere of the planet, and everywhere else it was bright and sunny. As the Marines drew ever closer to the wreckage of the giant skeletal remains of the Sydney Point,

they noticed that even the abundance of birds and insects avoided this blasted land, and an eerie silence enveloped everything, save for the occasional howl of cold wind, the cascade of falling rock as it tumbled down a rock face, or the eerie creaking noise of metal in the distance coming from a long, dead starship. All around them were the rotting forms of alien space wreckage, From the ground it appeared that they'd crashed in some type of circular pattern radiating from the centre of the topographical anomaly, something which warrant Officer Nazri confirmed from their bumpy flight to the ground. Lieutenant Gabriel activated his Vigam to document their surroundings, focusing particularly on the alien wreckage in the distance, and ordered his squad leaders to designate one or two of their Marines to do the same. He wished that he had more time to examine them closely, but that wasn't part of the mission.

"'Hey, L.T.' "'What's up, chaps?' Gabriel said to the medic. "'Sir, I was just trying to wrap my head around what killer he said. "'It just doesn't make sense.' "'Tell me something that she said that does make sense, chaps,' laughed Gabriel. "'No, seriously, sir,' replied Chapman. "'Look, first she said they crashed.

"'Got it. "'Then she said that some of the survivors went to the Sydney point "'to try and find help. tracking that too Then she said that the colonists were dead Yeah I'm still tracking Then she said that the colonists attacked them Now I was lost as a second lieutenant with a compass and a GPS

Are they dead Or did they attack them Lieutenant Gabriel had been thinking the same thing Though said nothing at first Well chaps She did get banged around a lot during the crash Maybe she got confused maybe some of the surviving colonists attacked them, then they died.

The medic walked a few more steps, doubt etched all across his face. Do you believe that, sir? After all, we've been through with this deployment, thought Gabriel. Hell no. Instead, Lieutenant Gabriel said, Just stay alert and be flexible, chaps. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if we're dealing with fairy godmothers. Staff Sergeant Talley's route of March,

of the wreckage of the Sydney Point was about as quick as could be expected, given the circumstances, coupled with the fact that they were on constant lookout for whomever it was that, presumably, attacked and killed the surviving crew members of the Newcastle. They only had to double back once, when a path descended between two sheer cliffs and ended in a rock-faced wall. They had to fall back up the path and walk about 300 metres east, before Staff Sergeant Talley was able to find another path which brought the platoon around the obstruction and back on course towards the colonel. ship. It wasn't difficult to miss the Star Cruiser, as the Sydney Point was a 130 metres

high, and she could be seen in the distance. As they got closer to the ship, the Marines could see that the long, thick ship had come to grief on a large plateau, which rose about 50 feet above the rest of the surrounding landscape, and was broken up into three major segments. The rear section, with its banks of six monstrously huge thrust engines, rested about the same monstrously huge thrust engines, rested about 100 metres to the rear of the rest of the ship. It was about halfway up the plateau, and the section which had become separated from the rest of the ship was angled up towards the stormy skies.

The middle section, where the majority of the colonists would have been housed, was almost on the middle of the plateau and was bent almost in the shape of an hour. The bottom of this section had collapsed, crushing the bottom two levels, which would have held the equipment, construction materials, vehicles and livestock. The upper three levels would have housed the colonists and the crew. The front 50 metres of the ship, where the bridge was located, had broken off and was turned on its side. The broken part turned and facing in such a way that the Marines could look inside the ship.

Even at this distance, they could see the five levels of the interior of the ship, even though the front part of the Doom colonizer was completely flattened by the impact. The Marines were in a slight depression that ran parallel to the ship. the front of the plateau. A rocky ledge to their left wrapped around like a natural ramp up to the top. Cautiously, they ascended the ledge. Weapons pointed outwards just in case of an ambush. Talley was on point and just below the lip of the plateau. She went to one knee, halting the platoon. Immediately the rest of the platoon went to a knee, taking up firing positions just in case. "'Hey, LT,' she said into the platoon comm system to Gabriel,

"'you're going to want to see this.' Gabriel, his comspec, and the medic shuffle to the head of the column, taking her knee next to Staff Sergeant Talley. She pointed with a gloved knife hand ahead of her towards the wreckage roughly 100 metres to their front. "'Take a look, sir,' she said. before the stun marines lay thousands and thousands of bodies presumably the passengers and crew of the sydney point their bodies and pieces of bodies broken and decaying with most still wearing scraps of clothes which were charred and burned but despite the disturbing scene that met them two things made the scene ultimately more troubling and eerie first although the sydney point came to grief over eight months ago the condition of the corpses seemed to indicate that they were been here for far longer, as there was no tissue on any of them at all, and the bones were blackened and seemed petrified with age. This might have been explained away by hypothesizing that the

blackened and age condition of the colonist remains was due to the high heat and fire resulting from the crash. However, all of the bodies have been lined up in almost a perfect formation in ranks and rows similar to a military formation, except that they all seem to have fallen backwards at the same time. There were no bodies visible inside the ship itself. It was as if the blackened corpses were all methodically lined up outside. What the hell, sir? whispered Talley.

Did the two security guys do this all by themselves? I doubt it, said the medic, pointing to two black mounds lying around the corner of a raised pile of rocks about 20 meters away. Gabriel, Talley and the rest of the point, squad carefully walked the wrist the rest of the way up the plateau towards the mound, weapons up and ready just in case. Almost perfectly camouflaged against the black rocks, the two mounds ended up being the ripped and torn bodies of the security team members dressed in their black military-style uniforms. Unlike the colonists, their bodies looked like they died fairly recently.

There wasn't much left of them, and their innards have been ripped open, and although both of their jaws had been ripped away. The terrified looks in their dead eyes show that they died fully aware of what was happening to them. Gabriel called out the rest of the platoon and had them form a loose perimeter around the plateau facing outwards.

In the middle of the perimeter, standing next to the remains of the two security guards and well away from the weird formation of dead bodies, Lieutenant Gabriel called a huddle with his squad leaders. Gabriel looked down at the two small-caliber submachine pistols which belonged to the security. guards, along with the empty magazines lying next to them. Whatever had killed the security guards, they went down firing as hundreds of metal casing

surrounded the spot where they died. There is, asked Gabriel. None that make any sense, said Sergeant Hernandez. I mean, it's hard to tell what they were shooting at. Did they shoot at these dead bodies? The bodies are already so messed up we can't tell. Gabriel looked down at his watch, which he'd programmed as a countdown. time to when the Gausten would be forced to eject its boats to save its crew.

Five hours and 38 minutes. Not much time left. Take 15 here, said Gabriel. Stay alert. We don't know what killed these security guys. Squad leaders, make sure your Marines hydrate. We have a three-mile hum to that beam. As they took a little breather, all of the Marines spoke to each other in hushed tones.

Already this mission had reached a level of creepy that, A few of them had experienced before. From the edge of the perimeter, Sergeant Hernandez suddenly gave out a sharp laugh. "'Split up?' said Sergeant Hernandez. "'Hey, boy, your guy houses says that we need to split up.' "'What?' "'You staff, Sergeant Talley.

"'Split up. "'Marine, are you crazy?' "'Sure,' the young Marine said nervously. "'Maybe we should split up. "'One squad stays here at the wreck "'to investigate what caused this. to happen. One team goes to blow up the beam. By splitting up, we could... Houser stopped as he saw his fellow Marines smiling and shaking their heads.

The rest of the Marines chuckled as staff Sergeant Boyer, private Houser's squad leader, put a hand on the armoryne's shoulder armoured. Houser was the youngest and lowest-ranking Marine in first squad, and was so wet behind the ears he was drowning. "'Houser, said Boyer, his big white teeth showing from under a mustache, sarcastic In a situation like this, with limited comms and near zero credible intel, Marines don't split up unless it's an emergency, because Marines don't like to lose fire superiority. And we like to think we're a wee bit smarter than those camp counselors on your classic Friday the 13th romance movies. Lieutenant Gabriel out himself a small laugh, then ordered. Activate your Vig cams and get a few minutes of footage.

Maybe forensics can identify some of these folks and determine how all these bodies, ended up outside their ship. We only have six hours left to blow that thing, and a three-mile hump ahead of us. He looked to the distance at the weird, horn-shaped structure sticking out of the high mound. The reddish-white glow of the beam still shot straight up, disappearing into the dark, stormy skies above. The wind had picked up, blowing cold, musty air which smelled like the inside of a crypt. There was no sound, no buzz of insects, no rustle of bent and broken metal swaying in the breeze. There was just the crumble of rock and grit under booted feet,

as Marines walked around the plateau filming the landscape of corpses and the gutted remains of the Sydney Point. A minute later, Gabriel said, Saddle up, let's move out. Staff Sergeant Boyer, your squad is on point. The forced march to the beam followed the same, monotonous, dead landscape, occasionally broken by slabs of rock that jutted into the sky or ravines which needed to be crossed. Every once in a while the Marines would walk past the wreckage of some alien vessel,

long dead and black with age, that made it look as if it were part of the unnatural landscape. But Gabriel pushed his Marines onwards, not taking any precious time to investigate. As before, there were no signs of any bodies, human or otherwise. The Marines took one more ten-minute. break when they were halfway to the structure just below the lip of a low ridge and then continued on. Lieutenant Gabriel led the platoon for the last half of the force march and halted his marines in a shallow depression about a hundred meters from where the blinding reddish-white beam was emanating from the spike-shaped structure. The temperature was much warmer here, no doubt

because of the heat being generated by the beam. Gabriel poured out his ranging senses and directed them at the weird structure. The black spike was curved like a horn, and by the way the rock seemed to have been pushed up around it, looked to have emerged from below the ground to extend 20 feet into the air. Not surprisingly, the power levels emanating from the beam were beyond the ability for the ranging sensor to read. The spike itself was roughly six feet in diameter, and judging by the thermal readings which the sensor was displaying, the energy source was coming from somewhere under the ground

and being directed into a pinpoint beam of only one foot at the tip of the spike, and directed into space, much like how private first-class Chensy had minimised the firing aperture of her flame gun to create a makeshift plasma cutter. The peculiar thing was, the ranging sensor was indicating that incredible amounts of heat were being generated by the spoke, but the spike itself remained the same ambient temperature and the air around it. The humming sound accompanied by the soft round,

rumbling of what could be described as an engine buried underground emanated from the thing. Okay, said Gabriel. Everybody give first squad all of your debts. Explosive blocks, grenades, line charges. Give first squad everything that can detonate except your ammo. What's up, sir? Asked Sergeant Boyer as he crouched down next to his platoon leader. Ever decorate a Christmas tree, Boyer?

Ask Gabriel. Sir? said Boya, I'm Jewish. Yeah, said Gabriel, but you're also my resident EOD expert. Come on, directing his second and third squads to stay put and cover their backs just in case. Gabriel led his first squad, now loaded down with all the fourth platoon's deaths, the rest of the way to the spike. He halted them a few feet from the structure.

The reddish-white beams shone brightly on top of the spike, making it impossible to look at, and the heat from the beam had caused the temperature to rise to over 160 degrees. Quickly now, said Gabriel, yelling over the wind, which was howling at the base of the spike. Attached the explosive blocks around the base of the spike and drape the line charges around the explosive blocks, then hanging grenades on the line charges. Make sure that you secure them so they don't blow down. Wow, sir, said Private Hauser, yelling over the wind.

It's just like decorator and Christmas tree. Yeah. "'Yoh, Gabriel. Now hurry and get it done before we roast.' As the charges were being planted, Boyer was inserting the detonating caps into the explosive blocks. Lieutenant Gabriel came up behind him, yelling, "'How do we look, Sergeant?' "'Good,' replied Boyer. "'This is almost overkill. Do you want to set it to time or command?'

"'Set it to command,' said Gabriel. "'We don't know what kind of energy will be released when this blows, so I want us back at the Sydney Point when I detonated. Roger that, sir, the old Boyer over the howling wind. Suddenly the earth seemed to shift slightly, and some of the rock which surrounded the spike tumbled down from the slight tremor. Gabriel looked at the spike. It didn't seem mechanical or constructed in any way, although it was now obvious that its

glossy black obsidian colour was different from the surrounding rock. His marines were just about finished setting the explosives, and Boyer ordered them to fall back to the rest of the platoon while he finished setting the detonators. By the time they were done, the Marines had decorated the spike with over 200 pounds of explosives, much like one wood ornament to Christmas tree. Chaps, who was standing next to the spike, yelled, Sir, you should see this. Gabriel ran up to his medic, who had his patient's vitals monitor pressed against the spike. Curious as to why his medic was doing this, he asked. What do you got, Chaps? The medic turned and said,

Sir, either this monitor is completely off the deep end or else it's showing that this spike is carbon-based. What? Gabriel looked at the monitor in disbelief. Sure enough, the monitor was showing that the spike was 50% carbon-based, almost exactly the same amount of carbon as in human bones. The implications were staggering. Are you saying this thing is alive, chaps?

I don't know what to say something. sir, he replied. We set, sir, the old staff, Sergeant Boyer, plugging in the last of his detonator caps. Can we get out of this oven now? Yeah, let's move, said Gabriel, grabbing his medic and directing him back to the depression where the rest of the platoon waited. The temperature had dropped at least 50 degrees when the last of First Squad finally entered the shallow depression, and although they only spent less than three minutes setting up

the explosive, the First Squad was completely exhausted and drenched in the air. sweat as they'd baked in their armor which was now hot to the touch Gabriel spared them a few minutes to hydrate and then checked his timer. They only had three hours and 22 minutes to march back to the Sydney point and take cover behind the plateau. At that distance Gabriel hoped that they'd be safe from any residual fallout caused by the blast. Saddle up, he said, we need to get clear of the area. Lieutenant Gabriel personally took point. marching his Marines all the way back across the broken and blasted landscape which they just reversed. The further away they got from the beam, the lower the temperature it became until it had dropped back down into the 60s again.

Gabriel didn't stop this time, as they had a limited time to get back to the Sydney Point and detonate the explosives. The Marines had already marched over eight miles on rough and hostile terrain since it landed, and they still had miles to go. Eventually, however, the wreckage of the Sydney Point appeared in the distance. distance in the Marines, spurred on by the site, quick time the last three-quarter miles to the plateau on which it rested. However, once they got there, all of the Marines froze. Okay, said Corporal Parker, who was leading the point team, where do they go? Where did the bodies go? They were standing on a ridge where a saddle led down to the plateau. Gabriel scanned the ground where the bodies of the thousands of passengers and crew of the Sydney Point were laid out

on the ground just a few hours earlier. There was no disturbance of the ground, no signs of bodies being moved or dragged. The corpses had all vanished, as if they'd never been there in the first place. Hey sir, look, Gabriel looked to where Staff Sergeant Talley was pointing. Even the bodies of the security guards are gone. Gabriel nodded, looking at his timer. They're had less than 30 minutes before the Galveston City would start launching their boats. Follow me, he said. You need to get down to below the plateau's lip. Keep your guns up, Marines, and stay alert.

Again, Lieutenant Gabriel led his platoon down the saddle and through the wreckage of Sydney Point, and across the ground which was once lined with thousands of dead bodies. His Marines looked nervously around, but said nothing. Following their platoon leader as he approached the ledge which led down off the plateau. quickly quickly now he said get down below the plateau squad leaders are you up receiving confirmation that all his marines were safely tucked away on the ledge gabriel called up staff sergeant boyer boyer trotted to gabriel handing him the detonator controls but gabriel held up his hands you've got this sergeant i know how you e-old guys like to make things go boom boyer smiled and Bucking low, clicked the actuating trigger on the handheld detonator. He and Gabriel ducked down as they looked back over the horizon to where the beam was still projecting into the sky.

Boyer chuckled. Must be the interference delaying the command detonating signal, he said, clicking the trigger again. They both ducked down again, but the beam was still shooting into the air, steadily dragging the Galveston City towards the planets. Boyer cursed, clicking the actuating trigger repeatedly. Gabriel looked down at his timer. Less than 20 minutes were left. Not nearly enough time to... Part 5.

The explosion in the distance lit up the horizon in a blinding flash of white. Boyer and Gabriel were thrown off their feet as their bodies rolled off the plateau and down the ledge. Slabs of rock and debris. along with wreckage from the Sydney Point, sailed over their heads, and the Marines grabbed them by their body armour and pressed against the side of the plateau, which shielded them from the shockwave of the explosion.

Clearly, the 200 pounds of ordnance couldn't have caused such a massive explosion. Once the shockwave had passed and all of the rock, debris and wreckage had fallen, Lieutenant Gabriel and Staff Sergeant Boyer raced back up the plateau, followed closely by the rest of the platoon. Gabriel exhaled and sighed.

The red beam was no longer firing into the sky. Boyer hit Lieutenant Gabriel on his left shoulder armour. See? he said. It was just interference. You should never doubt me. Gabriel laughed. I didn't for one second. As the platoon of Marines allowed themselves for cheer of success,

as the black smoke rose in the distance where the spike had once stood. All of a sudden, in the air around them, and in the ground beneath them, and seemingly coming from inside of them, side of them, a low, moaning roar filled the environment. The ground shook as if an earthquake had struck and many marines lost their footing. In the distance where the spike once stood, the ground shook, then spurted upwards like a volcano being born. Two spikes now erupted from the ground, one broken at the tip, each curving and pointing in towards each other, and rose higher into the sky. Beside the spikes, two black columns also

broke through the earth, each hundreds of feet long and stretched up towards the sky. At the end of the two black spikes, skeletal fists opened into skeletal hands which grasped into the air. The hands slammed back down to earth and two black skeletal arms pushed, forcing a hellish thing to emerge from the ground. The two spikes were indeed massive black horns which connected to a monstrous skull, which was oddly human in appearance. flames of bright red emanated from empty eye sockets and its open, massive moor. It pushed itself out of the earth, craning its bony-neck skywards as it strained to free itself from the rocks, which had imprisoned it until finally it pulled one hoofed skeletal leg out of the ground and then another. The horrific monstrosity stood up clumsily, rising hundreds of feet in the air,

and looked towards where the frightened marine stood with flaming red eyes, filled with hunger and malice. It felt the tip of its right horn with a massive six-fingered black skeletal hand. Twenty feet of the horn was missing, blown apart when the Marines set the explosives, leaving a length of only 30 feet remaining attached to the demonic-looking skull. The demonic entity leaned forwards, opening its mouth and screamed at the Marines who were standing at the plateau three miles away. It clenched its fists, raising them into the air. and their ground around the Marines rumbled. Then, still standing unsteadily,

the giant skeletal horror began walking towards the Marines. The earth rumbled with every laboured step it took. Staff Sergeant Talley, looking at her ranging sensor, yelled, We got movement. I can see that, said Gabriel. No, we got other movement, Talley yelled. "'Where?' "'The old Lieutenant Gabriel.'

"'Staff Sergeant Talley pointed at the ground. "'All around us, sir.' "'The Marines were gathered almost at the center of the plateau "'and had witnessed the birth of the gigantic, "'demonic-looking skeleton, "'when suddenly, all around their feet, "'skeletal hands began pushing up from the ground. "'Slowly, inexorably, thousands of undead corpses

"'began pulling themselves up from the black earth. "'The Marines were surrounded by the things and outnumbered hundreds to one. From what remained of decaying throats and windpipes, the undead things which once used to be human occupants of the CSNS-Sidney Point, began bellowing and moaning as they reached out with clawed decaying hands to the Marines who were stomping and kicking at the ground. With the Marines bunched together and the Undead Army literally rising up under them,

the Marines had lost fire superiority. They couldn't risk shooting without hitting one another. "'Move Marines,' yelled Gabriel, but stroking a skeletal corpse in front of him, which had just about completed pulling itself out of the ground. The creature fell backwards, but rose again followed by more of its kind. Back, back down the ledge. The Marines began punching, kicking, and hitting the creatures with their weapons as they pushed towards the ledge which led down off the plateau. They fired only occasionally, only when they were shot. sure that they would not hit another marine. But for every creature that they shot

sent to mass, dozens more took their place, and the creature that was hit would only rise again. Open up, your sergeant Hernandez. Open up, watch your muzzle. Don't flag your buddies. Aim for the heads, your private hauser. He pointed his squad automatic at the two security guards, now part of the undead, which had risen from the ground. He squeezed off one more burst which ripped into the two security guards' heads, and the corpses collapsed on moving. Aim for their heads! The Marines fell back, following the ledge down off the plateau,

as they shot almost point-blank into the heads of the corpses which blocked their way forwards. With controlled discipline, they bounded backwards by squads in order to keep up fire at the shambling skeletal remains, which were slowly walking, limping, or dragging them. themselves forwards. The undead horde was extremely slow, however, and once the Marines were 200 meters ahead of their pursuers, Lieutenant Gabriel ordered the platoon to ceasefire and halt their bounding maneuver, but continue to double time to the gunship. Lieutenant Gabriel stopped, allowing his platoon to file past him as they ran. By the numbers, yelled Gabriel, breathing heavily into the platoon net. Squad leader's status report. One up!

said Staff Sergeant Boyer. Two up, replied Talley. Three up, the old Hernandez. Good, thought Gabriel. All of his marines were accounted for. He looked back up the plateau which they'd come from, back past the thousands of dead and rotting corpses, and towards the unbelievably large and grotesque skeletal horror

which had hauled itself out of the black earth. From where he stood, Gabriel estimated that the thing stood over 500 feet tall, with the span of its horns measuring a hundred feet from point to point. This guard of the undead, for indeed that's what it was, if it was responsible for reanimating the corpses of the crash victims, was moving slowly, as if it was not used to using the skeletal legs on which it stood. However, though it was still miles away, every slow and awkward step that the monster took put it ever closer to the retreating marines. Gabriel turned and ran to catch up to his platoon.

Staff Sergeant Boyer's first squad was in trail, and the squad automatic gunner, Private Hauser, along with the assistant gunner, Private Barna, were Tailn-Charlie. Lieutenant Gabriel called up with him, sweating and breathing hard from all of the manoeuvring that they were doing in full battle rattle. Hey, Hauser, how are you doing?

Hauser's automatic rifle was heavier than the standard issue M-8-8, and he carried the added weight of 200 or so, 8.2mm caliber belted rounds. I'm okay, sir. Houser was just barely past his teens and didn't even seem like he was breathing hard despite running with a heavy load. Somewhat jealous of the young Marines' youthful energy,

seeing as Gabriel's 35th birthday was only a month away, Gabriel figured that's why the Corps made the young guys carry the heavy weapons. How about you, Barner? said Gabriel, turning to the assistant gunner who was carrying the spare barrel, and an additional 300 rounds for the automatic rifle.

How are you holding up? Your first deployment of everything you thought it would be? O-ha! She said as she ran along, easily keeping pace with everyone else. It's not too bad, but hoverpacks would have been nice for this one. Yeah, they would have, agreed Gabriel.

But the detachment only had enough to equip one platoon by company, and second platoon got priority. Maybe next time. Who are, sir? replied Barner, with not a hint of complaining in her voice. So, Hauser, said Gabriel. How'd you know that shooting him in the head would stop them?

From a movie I watched, sir, replied Hauser. It was a documentary of life in the late 20th century by a guy called George Romero. Ah, I see, replied Gabriel. Why now, Lieutenant Gabriel ordered his tired and sweating Marines to slow down. The Marines shuffled along at a moderate jog which kept some. some distance from the undead, which still relentlessly pursued them, while still giving the Marines the opportunity to watch their steps as they made their way across the rock-strewn landscape. The last thing they needed was someone twisting an ankle or knee. The giant,

lumbering skeletal nightmare, still follow behind and had closed the gap, but it was still a mile and a half behind them. The Marines were in a saddle along the crest of a low ridge which would eventually bring them up a drawer that rounded a bend which led back to the the gunship and the wreck of the Newcastle. In the distance the Marines could hear the faint, telltale moaning of the undead and the rapid fire-wushing noise of a flame rifle. Above it all was the faint, unmistakable sound of a female voice cursing and yelling vulgar threats at the top of her lungs. The Marines raced around the bend in the saddle, eager to get to the crest and see what was going on at the crash site. Gabriel sprinted to his comspec.

Maggers gave me the gunship. Cancer, responded Magas. We're in a cell and don't have line of sight. Shit, thought Gabriel. They were about a half mile away but still didn't have calms with the gunship. All of a sudden there was a howl of air as the rush of thruster engines screamed as their gunship appeared over the ridge line. Gabriel grabbed the handset.

Jen, what's going on? Sam, get your asses down here, yelled Jennifer as the gunship dive below the crest of the ridge. I don't have any freaking ordinance and they're closing in on Chensy. Gabriel rounded the bend, climbing up the rise and looked down towards the shallow depression. A half mile away he could see Chensy standing atop the wreckage of the Newcastle, firing her flame rifle in wide arcs. Seashall Killery was standing behind her, screaming while a attempting to climb higher up on a bank communication antenna, while Hunter Hiding knelt at

Chensie's feet, arms wrapped around the little Marines' left leg. Hunter hiding's eyes and mouth were wide, and he was white as a sheet, peering down between Chensy's legs at the mass of horrors which were trying to climb up the wreckage towards them. Gabriel stopped for a second to survey the scene before him. Between his Marines and where Chensy was fighting on top of the wreckage was about a quarter-mile-thick-thick horse. of dead things clawing and scraping their way up the wreckage of the Newcastle. However, unlike the corpses of the Sydney points, these undead horrors were definitely not human when they were alive.

Very quickly the Marines realized that these most likely were the reanimated remains at the vast array of alien vessels which had met their head here so long ago when the cacophony of noises which escaped from the undead aliens was as deafening as it was horrific. Circling above Chensy, warrant officer nassery was flying the gunship in tight circles trying to knock over the undead things with a thruster's jet wash or trying not to blow chensy and the two idiot VIPs off the top of the wreckage chancy yelled gabriel into the platoon comnet able to reach his young marine now that he had line of sight "'Dead things, sir,' "'y old Chensy, as she swept her flame rifle

"'in a wide arc down towards a massive skeletal claws "'and other weird bony appendages reaching out to her. "'Oh, boy, there's a whole shit ton "'of galactic dead things down here.' "'Han' on, Chensy,' yelled Sergeant Hernandez, "'looking desperately at Lieutenant Gabriel. "'Look, we coming to get you, hang on.' "'I'm not going anywhere, Sarge,' replied Chensy.

"'But this idiot VIP hanging on to my leg, He was stripping me up. Can I roast him? No, yelled Hernandez. At least not until we get there. The eyes of the entire platoon were wrong, Gabriel. He looked back at the horror closing in behind them. The horn monstrosity was just over a mile away. Lock and load, ordered Gabriel. We're going right the fuck down the middle of that mess. Platoon wedge formation. First squad, take left. Second, take right. Sergeant Hernandez, your squad's on point. Let's get your flame gunner. Who-wah!

Yield Hernandez and his entire third squad. Remember, like George Romero said, aim for the head, or at least what freaking looks like the head. Yo, Gabriel, as he raised his rifle. Okay, let's move Marines. With a loud and thundering, who-ah, the 41 Marines of the fourth platoon Delta Company stormed down off the ridge.

The formation looking like an arrow pointed right into the center of the horde of dead things. With cool and disciplined violence and aggression, the Marines fired bursts from their rifles into the skeletal horrors, which loomed ahead of them. The horde was so busy focusing on Chessie that by the time the undead displayed some type of cognitive reasoning that a danger loomed behind them, the Marines had already smashed into their midst,

firing as they advanced. Lieutenant Gabriel was in the fore of his platoon, firing his weapon on burst, reloading, kicking, and using his rifle butt to knock away any undead alien which managed to claw its way towards him and firing again. Although he didn't realise he was yelling, he could hear his marines behind him yelling and cursing as they fought and fight. They were now completely surrounded by the undead and the platoon collapsed in on itself, forming a circular perimeter as they continued to advance slowly towards the Newcastle.

However, the dead were packed tight near the base of the Newcastle's wreckage, and as the platoon neared to only 100 feet, their forward progress slowed. A wall of dead aliens pressed in on all sides as the volume of fire from the Marines began to slacken. We're getting law on ammo, yelled Hernandez. Just as Gabriel was thinking how he'd choke murder every bleeding-heart politician who decided it would be a good idea to disarm his gunship, Jennifer brought down the gunship swooping down at a steep angle between the Marines and the Newcastle before raising the throttle again

and zooming back into the skull The maneuver incinerated several of the undead Which had been blocking the Marines' path And bowled over the rest Creating a temporary passage to the Newcastle 50 feet long and wide Chaps the medic grabbed Lieutenant Gabriel And hefted him onto his feet

At least a dozen Marines were knocked off their feet By the blast of the thrust engines and Gabriel's eyebrows were smoking from the heatwave. Quickly, though, all the Marines had recovered and were racing towards the wreckage of the Newcastle. Private Howser cleared the remaining dead things from the front of the wreckage, spraying them with his automatic rifle.

The rest of the platoon turned about, forming a tight perimeter below where Chensy had fought, and firing into the mass of the undead as the hall closed in around them. Come on, Chensie, the old Sergeant Hernandez, reaching up a hand, This ain't no sight, Seintel. Heads up, yelled Chensy as she raised the leg that Hunter hiding was clinging so tightly to.

No, no, no, no, screeched Hunter as Chensy kicked him off her leg and the former Vice President's son fell ten feet over the edge of the ship, only to be caught by Sergeant Hernandez. Chensy turned and reached up, grabbing Seashell Killari, who climbed an astounding two feet up the ship's bent Com's antenna. her. Seashell yelled as Chensie yanked her down, then carried her to the edge. She screamed, What are you doing?

This Chensy dropped her into the waiting arms of Corporal Palkovich. Seeing that the two VIPs were in tow, Gabriel yelled into the radio. Gunship, we could use a lift. The Marines were rapidly going blank on ammunition. Some reporting that they were down to their last one or two magazines. Meanwhile, the skeletal death god was only harmed. a mile away and getting closer with every labored step it made. Can you clear me a space to land?

He yelled Jennifer. The second I touched down, those things will be all over the ship. Gabriel thought for a second. They'd have to fight to get clear of the wreckage and then fight to form a perimeter into which the gunship could land. Then they'd have to fight to collapse into the ship. They could do it, but wouldn't they have enough ammo? More than likely they wouldn't.

It wasn't the best option, but it was the only one. He hated the thought that he might lose some of his people to get these VIPs safely back home to their rich and powerful mummies and daddies. But what choice did he have? Before he could give the order to advance back into the jaws of the undeads, he heard Chensy yelling from atop the wreckage. I got this. Taking her flame rifle, she completely closed the firing aperture, then squeezed the trigger until the warning indicator sounded for her to shut down the weapon.

Five seconds, she yelled. get the freak down wrapping her beloved flame rifle like an Olympic shot put Chensi spun around twice and tossed the rapidly overcharging weapon towards the area where the gunship had landed when they first arrived

The weapon sailed spinning over the heads of the Marines coming down about 25 meters away in the middle of a mass of scale of all terrors before detonating in an explosive blast that resembled a miniature Hiroshima Complete with black mushroom cloud capitalizing on their 15-meter-wide clearing that the explosion had created,

Jennifer dropped the gunship right in the middle, the rear end of the ship facing the Marines ramp open. Go, go, go, go, yelled Gabriel, pushing Sergeant Hernandez and Corporal Palcovic forward. Cover and fire, Marines. Still carrying the two VIPs, Hernandez and Palcovic raced forward towards the gunship, disappearing up the back ramp as the Marines behind the. them cleared away using the last of their ammunition. Cheney, yelled Gabriel, turning his arms held wide.

Jump. Don't drop me, yelled Chensy as he stepped off the wreckage and landed in Gabriel's arms. My hero, she said as Gabriel set her down on her feet. Shut up and move, Cheney, he yelled. And being the last of the Marines, they both ran to the ramp as quickly as they could, the undead rapidly closing in around them. The gunship lifted into the air as the marines already inside the gunship yelled encouragement for them to hurry up. A few feet from the rear of the ship, Gabriel picked up Chensian thrower up into the ramp,

then jumped himself just barely able to grab the steel grating of the metal ramp as the gunship gained altitude. Hernandez and Boyer climbed over the pallets of torpedoes and reached down, straining to yank their platoon leader into the cargo bay. With one heave, they jerk Gabriel into the gunship just inches above the reaching hands and claws of the undead. Gabriel rolled over and looked out the back ramp in time to see a massive skeletal hoofs slammed down on the ground behind them. The giant horned death got loomed over the gunship as Jennifer pulled the craft into a steep climb. Gabriel ran up the cargo bay, checking on his marines and the VIPs as the gunship picked up speed. maglox maglox maglox maglox jennifer screamed over the intercom engage the maglox on your boots hang on i'm going vertical

what you're gabriel the helios wasn't designed to go vertical in atmosphere but the gunship pitched up as jennifer grunted straining for all she was worth to pull back on the stick and make the helios gunship do something it was never designed to do staff sergeant tally grabbed sea show a kill and hugged her close to keep her from flying out the back of the gunship while Staff Sergeant Boyer grabbed Hunter hiding. The air rushed through the open cargo bay like a tornado. Everything loose in the cargo bay fell out of the open ramp. Equipment, rocksacks, weapons, cases of mission-ready meals, Marines, Marines. Marines? Chensi's maglocks had been damaged while she was fighting off the dead things on the planet, and she fell to,

towards the opening, desperately grabbing at anything. Lieutenant Gabriel watched in horror as Chensy fell past him. Chensy managed to grab a hold of a hydraulic cable near the aft roof of the cabin, but her fingers were slipping as the gunship climbed to near vertical. The metal pallets holding the makeship bombs were slowly rising and sliding out of the back as Jennifer finally managed to point the nose of the gunship straight up into the sky. The pallets lifted about four inches off the deck and fell back. Back was out of the open ramp.

The cables which held the pins of the secondary time fuses on the torpedoes broke away as the explosive fell from the gunship towards the skeletal horror below. The gigantic undead entity reached up with one of its skeletal arms, grabbing at the gunship. Each of the sixth, 30-foot-long fingers of its hand closed inexorably around the gunship as it hung almost stocked still in mid-air. suddenly it noticed something falling out of the back of the gunship Gabriel disengaged his maglocks and fell through the cargo bay right behind the pallets of bombs He reached private first-class chancy and grabbed her just as she lost her grip Now upside down Lieutenant Gabriel slammed his feet as hard as he could on the upper bulkhead of the gunship mere inches from being sucked out of the open ramp and engaged the maglocks on his boots

holding on to Chensy with all his remaining strength. Arms away, bombs away, close the ramp, close the damn ramp, your Sergeant Hernandez into the intercom to the cockpit. Jennifer pushed the stick forward, trying to level out the gunship, but instead the gunship leaned to the right and dive back towards the ground. Narrowly missing one of the horrors bony fingers, the gunship plunged to Earth.

Jennifer grunted again, The muscles in her arms, shoulders and neck screaming in pain as she pulled back on the stick with both hands trying to bring the crashing gunship under control as the terrestrial ultimeter rapidly counted down the distance at which the gunship would nose into the ground. The skeletal monstrosity glared with flaming red eye sockets as the bombs dropped out of the escaping gunship and fell down towards it. The horn skull opened a black moor filled with row upon row of sharp black ragged teeth and roared in anger. Its distended jaws stretched 50 feet wide, and the two pallets with the four torpedoes flew straight down its throats. Part 6 The rear ramp on the gunship shut with a clang just as the torpedoes detonated.

The gunship was still in a nosedive to the ground when the concussive force of the blast created a shockwave, which knocked the gunship off its terminal dive angle. Warning lights and alarm screamed inside the cockpit, but the rugged little gunship held together, despite the battering she'd just taken. With one last heave, Jennifer pulled up on the stick with every ounce of strength that she had left. The gunship shot up,

narrowly missing the black, jagged landscape which seemed to rise up to meet them. Jennifer pulled the stick on the left, attempting to get past the periphery of the blasted black landscape and over to where the land was alive and green and beautiful. We are clear of the anomaly,

Warren Toffis and Nasri's voice boomed into the intercom over the rising pitch of the thrusters. Everyone okay back there? We're a little banged up, said Staff Sergeant Talley into the intercom speaker, looking down and frowning at the wet spot on her armour where seashell killerie'd pissed herself. But we're fine, the medics handing out boo-hoo band-aids and lollipops. Okay, chuckled Nasry. Where's Lieutenant Gabriel? Oh, he's hanging around, man, said Sergeant Hernandez.

I see, said Nasri. Well, when he's done fighting around, let him know we have calms with the Galveston City. They've got freedom of maneuver and are in orbit waiting to retrieve us. We should be docked in 15 to 20 mics. Lieutenant Gabriel hung upside down six feet above the deck of the cargo bay, his maglocks holding him in place. His arms were wrapped tightly around private first-class Chensi and he looked down at her, surprised to see her cry.

You okay, Hichiro, he said. You hurt? Chensi looked up at her platoon leader, wiping a tear from her eyes. No, sir. I lost my flame rifle. Do you know how much those things cost? I'll never be able to pay for a new one with the shit that the Corps is paying me. You saved our asses down there. then, said Gabriel.

We'll buy you a new one. Chensy smiled weekly. I'd rather have a promotion. Maybe a few days to hang out with you and warrant officer Nassarie in Vegas. Lieutenant Gabriel rolled his eyes. Will someone get this little turd off my hands so I can get down from here? The USS Garveston City remained on station for an additional 48 hours over Willow's World as the members of Fourth Platoon underwent decontamination procedures.

In that time, all of the platoon's VIG-Camp footage was sent to the fleet to be scrutinized and examined extensively by scientists, geologists, biologists, astrophysicists, and the glurgy. The opposition politicians also wanted to examine the Vig-Camp footage as well, to see if they could find evidence in which to convict the Marines, and, by association their commander-in-chief, of any heinous war crimes real, or imaginary. With the USS Galveston City's senses functioning normally now that the entity

had been weakened and its beam horn, as the Marines called it, was destroyed, the Galveston City was able to peer down into the dead area anomaly. The entity was still alive, alive being a relative term, and still stumbling around within the dead space which it presumably was responsible for creating.

Apparently the horned entity could not leave that area of dead space to set foot on the surrounding lush living landscape. The prevailing theory was that the entity was not originally off this planet. Having arrived sometime in the past and probably buried itself into the ground where it slowly began draining the life energy of its surroundings, which, over time, expanded the deadness to over 120 miles in circumference. In the meantime, the entity had used its weird beam to snag any starship which came into range

and dragged it to its doom on the blasted rock formations below, where the entity again fed off the life forces of those it had ensnared, reanimating the corpses whenever they were needed to do its bidding. Basically, it was a giant parasite. Commander Travis had suggested using one of the Galveston's tacknukes on the creature, just in case it had the power to regrow its hornbeam again, for that was quickly shot down by the Globo corporations, and their R&D departments, who wanted to investigate the numerous wrecks of alien vessels

which had been brought down in the dead space. They feared that attack nuke might damage the alien vessels, which were no doubt holding advanced weapon development secrets that could benefit mankind. For his part, Lieutenant Gabriel couldn't care less. After they leave orbit and the Gayhawk gets underway for Earth, Willow's World and everything associated with it would be the USS Ring, problem. He was just happy that this deployment was finally over and that he'd be returning with his entire platoon safe and intact. Oh, and that the two snot-nosed VIPs were also safe and sound,

he guessed. They were both tucked away in Commander Travis's own crew cabin since the Corvette didn't have an executive VIP suite. Groaning, Gabriel looked down at his data pad. He was sitting in the galley, enjoying a moment. moment of alone time with a nice hot mug of coffee. He hadn't even finished his report on the Mount Caberu mission, and now he had to write a report about this one too. PFC Chensi strolled up and sat across from him, setting down a tray of cereal on the metal table. Oh man, sir, these fleet guys know how to live, she said, cutting up a fresh banana and strawberries to put in her cereal. Maybe I joined the wrong branch. You most did.

definitely did not join the wrong branch killer, said Gabriel. I know, said Chensy. Oh, by the way, your eyebrows are growing back nicely, sir. Maybe you won't look so hideous by the time we get back. Gabriel rolled his eyes up at her. Is there a reason you're sitting here picking on my eyebrows private? Chensy scooped a spoonful of fruit-laden cereal into her mouth. Yes, sure.

Are you writing your report on our mission on Willowsville? "'I could be,' said Gabriel. "'Are you at the part when I dragged those two idiots? "'I mean, VIPs up to the top of the wreckage "'and flamed all of them dead things.' "'As a matter of fact,' said Gabriel, "'I'm just getting to that part.' "'Great,' said Chensy,

"'because I just wanted to make sure "'that you spelled the word incinerate correctly.' "'Jennifer Nasri stepped out of the shower, "'wrapped in one of the thick, "'soft, luxurious towels, "'which made the ultra-luxurious hotels, hotel and casino complex towers, the most stolen towers on the Las Vegas strip. It had been over 40 days since they'd successfully completed their mission to Willow's

World, and three weeks after the USS Kitty Hawk docked at San Diego Orbital Naval Base, before she and Samuel could finally start their three-week vacation to Vegas. Yes, originally it was two weeks, but Sea Shell Killary had stunk up the cockpit of Jen's gunship again on the way back. apparently they only had caviar, sardines and boiled eggs in that pantry that they were trapped in forever a week so naturally Sam would have to cough up another week in Vegas secretly however Jen was hoping that by their third week in Vegas some might get the hint that Jennifer Nasri Gabriel had a nice ring to it

she walked from the steaming bathroom across the ultra luxurious king-sized bed with a thick comfortable mattress Sam was lying in bed, already dressed in a red polo shirt and his favourite well-worn faded blue jeans, waiting for Jen to get out of the shower so they could partake in what was fast becoming their favorite pastime since returning from over a year out in space, attacking the dinner buffet. Sam had the 74-inch vid screen turned to the Galactic News Network. The image on the screen showed Seashell Killari wearing a tight-fitting light blue pair. suit combination standing together with hunter hiding who was wearing a sharp-looking black suit.

The couple was on a large stage inside a crowded arena receiving medals, accolades and praise for their party leadership while thousands of people clapped and cheered. Red, white and blue confetti fell from the rafters as Federer GNN's senior reporter Runt Wolfthard, the most trusted news anchor in the galaxy, sat at a desk and gave a glowing story of seashell Killary and Hunter-hiding's successful mission to Willows' World. And after taking a commanding position atop their crash Star Cruiser, Runk continued, Hunter hiding and Seashow Kalari rallied the platoon of panic-stricken Marines, which, ironically, was sent to rescue them.

Though the Marines were racked with fear at the sight of the unnamed danger, Hunter and Seashow used their natural-born leadership gifts, undoubtedly passed to them by their parents, and led the Marines on a dangerous mission. which successfully averted a tragedy on that planet. And even though the nature of the mission and the nature of the potential tragedy is considered classified, run smiled knowingly into the camera. Some anonymous sources high up in the government claimed that the unnamed potential tragedy was caused by none other than President Helania herself.

Voters should keep this in mind when the elections roll around. I'm sure that if those thankful Marines were present here today, they'd all encouraged citizens in the government. to vote accordingly since clearly this was all President Helania's fault. Hunter Hiding was joined by his father on the stage, former Vice President Bunker Hiding, and Seashow Killari was joined by her father, Senator William J. Killari, as they announced their intention to run as president and vice president,

to defeat President Hilania in the next election by any means necessary. Really, Sam, said Jennifer, removing her towel and use it to drive. her hair. 8,000 channels on cosmic cable, 1,000 of them porn channels, and this is what you're watching? Well, it's on all the channels, Jen, shrug Samuel, even the porn ones. He sighed, as if he'd step boot deep into a steaming pile of zeno droppings. Still, though, none of that galactic pomp and circumstance bullshit can compare to the little ceremony we had on the deck of the Cahawk, where we got to promote Sergeant Hernandez to start half sergeant, from private first-class chancy to last corporal. It's nice, really. Forty-two of us deployed,

42 of us returned. Banged up, probably scared for life, but drunk and happy, just the way we Marines like it. Well, yeah, that's true, said Jen, climbing on the bed and straddling Sam. With an aggravated groan, Jen grabbed the remote out of Sam's hand and pointed it at the vid-screen. just do me a favor she said pressing the off button for as long as we're on earth turn that gnn n shit off and so once again reach the end of tonight's podcast my thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen now i'd ask one small favor of you wherever you get your podcast wrong please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.