Also, these fan-fiction stories will be posted on other HALO fan-ficition sites to spread the word.
HALO fan fiction in the New Year is a good way to start off 2011 right!
30 December 2010
New Year-New Fan Fiction!
Also, these fan-fiction stories will be posted on other HALO fan-ficition sites to spread the word.
HALO fan fiction in the New Year is a good way to start off 2011 right!
21 December 2010
Happy Holidays from FWS!
We wish to leave you with a present to read during your holiday, the posting of my first Blade Runner fan-fiction piece, while not strictly military science-fiction, it is a foundation me being a sci-fi writer.
I hope that you enjoy it.
During this season, I am always reminded of the World War One Christmas Truce of 1914, and how the spirit of a season can led to greatness of the human spirit while surrounded by so much slaugter.
Here is a link to the opening of the holiday episode of Space: Above and Beyond called River of Stars, which is one of the better explantions of the Christmas Truce of 1914.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bNov7Y1S_I
Ruins: the Blade Runner Fan Fiction Short Story
Here is my Xmas present to all of our readers. The story of Ruins takes place on a off-world colony in 2019, and this story was written from a different point-of-view. Instead of seeing the BR universe from today, I took the story from the POV of the 1980's, when the script was written. Also, I used the timeline developed by Aarron Brinkley of www.bladezone.com.
here is the link: http://media.bladezone.com/contents/timeline/
ENJOY!
It was finally dark over the ruined city of Kazantsev, and the Lieutenant breathed a little easier. He scanned the streets and buildings around them, looking for any sign of the enemy that had cut them down with that damned 23mm ZSU-23-4 tank.
Despite, his starlight scope revealing nothing, he knew that they were out there. He panned the scope, which he had pulled off his now-dead sniper SLR rifle, down to the street level. Reds never give up! He remembered his drill sergeant’s words. But there was nothing out there, only the burned hulks of Toyota Hilux’s, Soviet made GAZ-66 trucks, and Land Rovers, with scatterings of rumble from the collapsing building. He could relax for a little while …
Surrounding the young Lieutenant on the fifth floor of this shattered office building were the survivors of his Replicant strike team. The Soviet 23mm shells had ripped the Spinner APC vehicles to pieces, along with the bulk of the team. They had fought from the crash to this office building, and now they waited for any rescue attempt or the Reds finishing them off. But he was aware that the Soviets were afraid of the Replicants…after all Tyrell wouldn’t sell them any skin-jobs…and maybe that was keeping the Soviets at bay
In the darkness were the five artificial humans, as he gazed in the dim light of Ara’s twin moons, at their dirty faces, he said their names silently…Big Joe…the big “A” level…Brandy…Aurélie…Sonny…and David.
“Alright, ammo and equipment check! Sonny you’re watching our six.” He ordered. Sonny slipped out into the hallway and watched the stairwell. The Reps obeyed the simple command, and pulling from their load bearing harnesses of supplies that they managed to get from the burning Spinner wreckage.
“Report.”
“We’ve got three G11’s, one LMG11, but it’s only got one box magazine, your PDW version, and Sonny’s G3 along with our sidearms, sir.”
“Grenades?” He asked
“A few impact, and two WP, sir.”
That wasn’t good, he thought. While the Hecker & Koch 4.73x33mm caseless rifles and light machinegun were very good, the Lieutenant feared they would not be enough firepower to get out of the city. Their mission to rout the seasoned Soviet defenders out of the refinery was now gone; only survival was left.
He checked his own kit while he was seated and his back was against a thick wall. There was his caseless H&K personal defense weapon, and his massive the Pläger-Katumate .44 revolver. With a swift action, the LT pulled out the bulky weapon that had been developed to give police one shot kill ability on a skin-job. If you tried to pump a ticking-down Rep with 9mm, than you would not live to regard your decision. He liked the look of the PK-D; it was big and flashily, along with making a terrible noise when fire, but it sucked in normal combat conditions. The Reps were not allowed to carry the weapon, only normal human security and military personal could carry them off-world. With a slide from his thumb, the cylinder was released, and he checked if all five slots were filled.
“The comms, LT?” Asked Brandy, in her sweet voice.
“Sorry, the Reds have the area blanketed with enough EM to jam everything.” She made a face a retreated back to her position, trying to keep low.
“Orders, sir?” Asked Big Joe.
“I’m thinking damnit!” the LT snapped. “Why don’t you use that A-ranked brain and think of a way out!” Despite the darkness, the LT could see the hurt in the eyes of the massive Nexus-6 combat model.
But, he ignored the slave, and scanned the cityscape out of the cracked concrete wall. In the distance of the darkened shattered city was the heavy fuel refinery.
That was whole reason he was even here on Ara in the Gliese 674 system, to command or “handle” Skin-jobs for the Colonial Security Solutions contacted to the Cardozal/Huebrer mining corporation. The LT pulled out a canteen and shook his head; at least the Reps know they’re slaves…
It had not always been like this for Lt. Edward Harrison, the CSS had told him that this assignment was not going to be another Victoria 70, Centaur, Arcadia 234, or even Tanhauser Gate. No, here on Ara, it was to be a cake-walk while baby-sitting the Reps at base. Then the breakdown of relations over refinery changed all of that.
Ara’s deposit of heavy fuel was original claimed by the USSR, during a probe fly-by. However, they lacked the heavy lift technology to bring the fuel to market, so, with the UN’s help, the USSR and Cardozal/Huebrer Mining Corporation entered into an agreement. It was hoped that this would led to melting of the Cold War.
The miners in the pits and strip mining operations were Replicants, and the Russians saw what their isolation was not getting them. Several came up missing, and Tyrell demanded full accounting of where their skin-jobs were, and even threatened the Cardozal/Huebrer with terminating their contract for their slaves. Without Reps, Ara’s heavy fuel would not be up for sale, and they had bet the company to make this deal happen.
The Reds refused to allow CSS personal onto their base, then after a shooting incident the two sides have been leveling Kazantsev for control of the refinery ever since. He had read in the Independent Sentinel newspaper that the stock for Cardozal/Huebrer was down, and that the only way to the save the company was to push the Soviets of out the refinery.
It wasn’t more than a week later, that the entire CSS Replicant combat teams got the call to hit Kazantsev hard.
Harrison shock his head, he was here on this delightful rock to make some money. He had been a tilt-rotor cavalry commander during the 2016 Chilean War, leading soldiers into hell over and over. When the enemy’s AAA was getting too many pilots, they were forced to ask Tyrell to design some Nexas-5’s that could fly the complex machines. After that, Harrison was in command of both humans and skin-jobs. When the war ended, so was his employment, but his experience was wanted on Ara…being platoon handler of some Nexus-6 combat models.
“We’re crap on a cracker, if we don’t get out of here!” Hissed Aurélie, as she moved along the wall, being careful to avoid the intense beams of the search-lights. Harrison was just grateful that the Soviet thermal scanners were so inferior, or else they would be trading lead with them.
“Maybe we should make a deal with them.” Big Joe uttered above the LT’s panicked breathing.
“What?!”
“Maybe the Soviets wouldn’t sell our sisters into those pleasure clubs.” He looked directly at Harrison with hawk-like fierceness. Before Edward ever set foot on Ara, Joe had been in love with another “A” level Six, and the CSS handlers feared what effect that would have on one of the best Rep platoon leader, so, they took his lover to another Cardozal/Huebrer camp. The rumor around the skin-job barrack was that she was sold into a private military pleasure club…a life of prostitution.
“The Soviets are just as bad, Joe-”
“They did not have people like us, Lieutenant.” Joe stroked his G11 while correcting Harrison. The Handler knew that he had landing some points with that one and he didn’t have time to debate the whole geo-political situation on-world to this skin-job while his hold on the Reps was slipping.
“Tyrell wouldn’t even sell you skin-jobs to the Reds! They’re just using PSYCOPS to get some of you to defect so they can use you!”
“You are grasping at straws, LT.” He sneakered.
“They massacred the entire armored Spinner flotilla Joe! That 23mm hacked some your fellow skin-jobs up!” He was anger and scared. He had never had to be totally alone with the Replicants before, and he always believed if he was, than they would chop him to chucks.
He rubbed his tired eyes, maybe I’ve been reading too much KILL…
Since they were so emotion stunted, and the situation so alien to them, Harrison feared that their child-like emotion state would wreck havoc, and they would all be Soviet target practice. Harrison shot up from the dirty floor directly into the face of the massive man.
“Joe,” he whispered into the predator face of the big man, “we lose it out here, we’re dead, you, me and them.” Joe peered around the shoulder of the human, into the eyes of his soldiers.
“You don’t know, LT-”
“I don’t know what, Joe? That I don’t what it is like to be born into a situation you cannot change. I have lived eight of your lifetimes! You help me now, and your last act can be to save these people from a life of mining!”
He hated to call these things, that Tyrell cooked up in those genetic assembly plants, people, but he needed Joe to get the rest of the unit moving toward escaping Kazantsev. Harrison was painfully aware that the Reds would shoot him, and take the Reps down into the strip-pits. But the real issue was the second-in-command of this Rep platoon, David. These were not Harrison’s Replicants; in fact, he had never seen most of them before they were shot down.
During the flight from the base to the city, his handler had shared that David was less than a day from retirement. Edward firmly believed that once David seized up, the entire unit would be disheartened and then dead.
“Harrison, we are going to make our own way.” He flatly said. In that moment, the handler weighted being a POW or taking to navigate the ruins of the city.
“You’re fooling yourselves, the Soviets will work you to death.” He said while checking his weapons.
“Is that any different than you?” He pushed back. Harrison was tried of the Reps testing him and his leadership. With that he pulled off his scoured helmet, tossing it across the littered room.
“Fine, if you want-” Without warning, Harrison’s face was sprayed with warm blood, and screams flooded the small space. The human fell completely on his back with a hard slam, and he torn at his face to clean off the blood, all while cocking his PDW.
“SNIPER!” Screamed out Brandy as she bolted to the twitching body of Big Joe.
“SHIT! BIG JOE!” Cried out Aurélie.
“STAY DOWN! DON’T RETURN FIRE DAMN IT!” Edward barked. The skin-jobs lowered their German caseless weapons.
“There is a Dragunov out there!” He pointed to the other crumbling Soviet-style heavily constructed monstrosities.
“Is he…”Brandy’s voice was smothered in tears. Harrison rolled over to the titan corpus of the Nexus-6 combat model. The 7.62mm round had butchered throat to the point, that only a thin flap of skin held the head to the body…like seppuku?
“What do we do, Lieutenant?” That sniper’s bullet had done what Edward could not; bring his unit together under his leadership.
“Not a damn thing!” He hissed. “Stay down, and away from the windows or any other open space!” He signed for them to crawl out of the front room and down the hallway, away from the sniper’s eye.
For an hour, the remains of the team waiting in the hallway, Sonny had his big rifle trained on the stairwell and the main entrance, while the rest were still in shock. Harrison had seen his share of death and killing during the Chilean War, but to be talking, then have someone‘s head explode in front of you is another thing.
It was started to get cold on this rock, and Harrison tightened up his field jacket against the open conditions of the top floor. His adrenaline spun down, leaving him cold. He dared not to start a fire with all of the loose paper floating around, the Soviet would see that, and send in their shock troops to execute him. At this point, he fooled himself into believing that the Soviets were convicted that they nailed the lone survivor of the attack, and they were back at base celebrating. But he couldn’t risk it.
No, he told himself, cold is better than dead…a little better. Walking around was risky, with the search lights cutting brilliant shifts of intense menacing light and that sniper was still out there in the rumble. He tore into a foil-wrapped field ration pouch, trying to use calories to keep himself warm. All the while ignoring what the Reps were saying to one another.
“What is the plan, Lieutenant?” David asked in a salty tone while lording over him. The sudden and violent death of their leader was adding to the stress, and Edward had to figure a way out before the unit cohesion broken downcompletely. He didn’t care anymore about heat/light discipline, with a nervous hand; he took out a hard pack of fat Boyard Papier Mais cigarettes. With a shaking hand, he pulled out a yellow stubby cigarette, and lit it. With a moment of joy, he simply smoked, like it was last pleasure on this god-forsaken rock.
“Sir, the thermals-”
“I don’t care, David!” He moved away from the young human, and left to finish is Boyard in peace. Once the sin was done, David crab walked back to the still seated LT.
“We have to be out of here by morning, you agree?” David looked directly at him, that was a habit that the skin-jobs did that Harrison never cared for.
“Yes, however being on foot is much too dangerous with the sniper teams about, and the APC Spinners are trashed.” He paused and repacked his Boyards, “we got to search the streets for a heavy duty truck.” While he and David were in another more interior room, Brandy and Aurélie moved the decapitated body of Joe into another room with a blood trail coloring the dusty floor. Now there are four of us…
“The Soviets know where we are.” Edward spoke grimly
“No doubt.” The Rep spoke, but did not peel his eyes from the body of Big Joe.
“They’ll be here in the morning with AKs are the ready.”
“Last stand, sir?” Harrison looked at the ticker rep with a funny expression.
“No,” he shook his head, “we’re getting the hell out of here.” He crouch down and walked to Sonny in the corridor.
“I got a mission for the two of us, the rest of you,” Harrison pointed to the three Reps. “Sit, stay, we’ll be back.”
He darted around the fifth floor of the broken office building, with Sonny covering him with his G3. Harrison did not want to be another notch in that Red’s sniper book! Every vehicle on the street seemed to be burned up, and he cussed wildly when he saw the shake-n-bake job on all of the vehicles. If they were still here in the morning, his brain told him, the entire CSS assault on Kazantsev would be a complete slaughter.
“We’re never going to get out of here.” He moaned under his breath, as Sonny watched. Fighting in built-up areas was a brutal affair, soldiers used whatever was on hand to move up a few feet, and every street in Kazantsev bore those scars.
“Lieutenant, train your scope on that alleyway, one klick north.” He peered over the window frame and in the grainy green glow was a seemly untouched Mercedes-Benz UNIMOG military truck!
“Jesus H.Hubbard!” He nearly shouted. “Now, if that big German’s got gas...” He wondered aloud, hope was starting to filter through his tried body.
“Someone is going to have to go out there and check, LT.” Harrison nodded to Sonny’s suggestion.
“You volunteering, Sonny?” He needled.
“I’m a slave, sir, not stupid, or quick.” Sonny’s words gave the LT the prefect candidate. When they arrived back in the room, Harrison cast an eye on Aurélie. She was a lean, tall pretty thing, with legs like a cheetah. He had cast a greedy eye toward her in the Rep barracks, and he could have ordered her to please him…but something always stopped him.
“Aurélie, on me.” She moved from her defense position, and crouched next to him on the floor, her dark large eyes locked on him like an Owl sweeping in for the mouse.
“Sonny ID’ed an UNIMOG truck down an alley way one klick straight north of us. For what we can tell, it’s intact.” He peered around at the other skin-jobs, “but we need to confirm that.” They all gave their handler a grim look. They had already seen many of their own go down out there… He thought.
“Sir, there has to be a better-”
“Shut up, David!” the lieutenant snapped his neck to the Rep. “She’s going, so we can evac outta here, before the Reds make me into a greasy spot!” A cold hush fell on them, as Aurélie started to strip out of her tactical gear.
“Got be fast.” She whispered to herself. While she worked her way down to her fatigues, Sonny showed her where the Mercedes was.
As the thin Rep started down the staircase, David fished out his VP70 9mm pistol, and offered to Aurélie, who shook her delicate head. “No thanks, it’ll only slow me down.”
“And what if some big bad Russian comes to air you out?” Mocked Brandy.
“I’ll push his eyes in.” She jetted out two of her thin long fingers in a kung-fu grip like motion, producing laugher all around.
“Aurélie,” the LT pointed at her, “check the UNIMOG, make sure it able to run, check the battery-”
“Sir, I’m not a ‘C’ level!”
“Move your ass, skin-job.” He growled at her. She mocked a salute and moved down the stairs. “Sonny, you got her?” He called out down the hallway.
“Yeah, over-watching her.” With his stripped sniper scope, Harrison watched her bound out into the shattered boomtown. The city was a collection of prefab miner homes, some shops, but the town was dominated by the pipe maze of the refinery and launching pads. The odd thing was, as the handler observed the gracefully running of the Rep, was that he could see fields of green just beyond the concrete. Not like back on-world…
“She’s at a brick pile.” David broke Harrison’s thoughts. He pulled the starlight scope back to see her looking at a path to the alleyway.
The sharp cracking report of RPK light machine gun echoed through the valley, lit up the street, snapping dust all around Aurélie.
“We got no choice!” Edward commanded to David. The tall Rep hammered out some caseless toward the muzzle flashes, and then Brandy and Sonny followed with covering fire of their own. It’s done now…the Reds now know how many we are and where!
Harrison had to admit that it felt damn good to unleash some caseless at his enemy, and while the thick metal blanket of fire kept the Russians heads down, Aurélie bolted out of cover and disappeared into the inky blackness of the alleyway.
“She’s there!” The LT signed for cease fire. “Reload! And get ready, they could be coming!” Brandy left the room, and took a covering position over the stairwell.
In those moments, the Handler did not feel like he was command a bunch of toasters, but they felt like soldiers to him.
“LT, Aurélie is signing.” He lifted up his starlight scope, and saw the long lean Rep flashing the sign that the UNIMOG was good.
“Lieutenant, may I make a suggestion?” Asked David.
“Go ahead.”
“We should leave now, while Aurélie is already on-station with transport.” It seemed suddenly like whatever god there was on Ara, was smiling on them now.
“Brandy, Sonny, we’re leaving.” Each of them wore a shocked but excited expression.
“On me.” The Replicants formed up on Harrison, and there his human eyes saw David trying to hide a limp arm. He ignored it.
“Aurélie’s got the UNIMOG warmed up, and the Soviets are busy under cover, we should run our asses out of this death trap and to the vehicle. Covering pattern, nothing fancy.” He ordered.
“David, join me.” Harrison crawled over to the body of Big Joe, and released the G11 from his chest rig and some extra magazines. The coming situation, Edward realized that he would need the punch of the rifle.
“Sir?”
“You’re limp, explain.” He looked sheepishly away.
“My inception date is today.” That shocked Harrison, most of the time, CSS wouldn’t send out ticker Reps that close to retirement. Cardozal/Huebrer must be desperate to get this shit over on Ara.
“David, there isn’t a damn thing I can do for you.”
“I know, just let me cover the unit to the truck.” Harrison nodded and handed him another long 4.73mm magazine.
“Let’s go.”
They rushed out a massive break in the dense walls of the building, at a dead run. Harrison and Brandy tossed white phosphorus grenades to throw up some smoke, as the others shot at anything.
Harrison pushed himself through the junk in the road, while Soviet AK’s started to hit around him. With a final push, the Lieutenant ducked under cover, and reloaded.
“DAVID’S DOWN!” Harrison cracked his head to Brandy pointing at the tall skin-job laying in the middle of the road, near a burned out GAZ-66 truck.
“BRANDY! SONNY! GIVE ME SOME COVERING FIRE!”
They sprayed the area where the Soviet fire was coming from, and Harrison ran low to the motionless Replicant lying in the open street.
Harrison practically slid into the downed soldier, while banging out caseless fire.
“Are you okay? David? DAVID!” The Reps eyes blinked heavily, and his arms behaved as if they were separate from his body.
“David! Get the hell up!” He pulled the Rep up, but his legs gave out.
“LT…leave me…”
“Damn, that’s a tired line, skin-job!” Harrison had little choice; he opened the cab to the OD truck.
“Grab your G11!” But David’s right hand could not close on the carrying handle. With a desperate last act, Harrison slammed the skin-job into the vehicle. It was the only cover, but now they were trapped.
Harrison went to work checking the Rep for any wounds, and discovered none. He’s close…the human thought as he noticed the full-body shakes and floppy limbs.
Soviet 5.45mm rounds raked the truck and cracked the massive wind-shield, but Harrison just stared that the failing skin-jobs.
“David…” Words failed him, as he watched his hand twitch, dropping the G11 on the floorboard of the Soviet heavy truck. He scooped up the weapon, reloaded it, and pushed into the Reps other hand.
“Can you fire with the left one?!” He screamed over the crack-crack of the impacting rounds slammed into the windshield. David nodded as best he could with the breakdown of cellular ATP energy production.
“You’re locked and loaded.” Then un-holstered his PK-D and laid on the lap of the man.
“For when they get close.” He smiled weakly, to the nearly expressionless face of the Replicant.
“Get…out…L…T…” He gasped. Harrison bolted out of the GAZ-66, and ran for the Mercedes UNIMOG with Soviet lead snapping at his heels. But above that, there was the steady fire of a G11.
“Harrison, get your ass in!” Cried Brandy. With a savage crack on the manual transmission, Sonny thrashed the old OD vehicle forward under a hail of fire. Brandy sprayed the area around the GAZ-66 with machine gun fire, as Sonny wrestled the massive wheel, turned in the great German beast back toward the CSS compound.
“Anyone see David?” The LT yelled over the roar of the fossil fuel engine. Aurélie pulled up her field glasses.
“Flashing of a big pistol,” she looked down at the flopping holster on Harrison’s right hip. “And Reds are danger close.” Harrison threw himself down to the metal rusted floor and collapsed against the canvas side.
“It’s over.” He huffed. Not a word was spoken between them on the ride back to the base. All eyes were locked on the disappearing Soviet truck, and the soldier they left behind.
When Harrison finally finished with the debriefing and the psych-evaluations, he sat down in a quiet corner of the hauler private mess hall, and opened a copy of Independent Sentinel newspaper. While slipping a strong brew of coffee, he cracked the business pages, and checked the stock price of Cardozal/Huebrer mining corporation and Colonial Security Solutions, both were down.
“Harrison,” called out the field commander for the CSS personal across the chow hall.
“Sir!” He shot up and saluted the man.
“Sit, son, you earned the coffee.” He sat down across from Harrison.
“The on-world suits are screaming for another strike into the boomtown, you up for it?” Harrison swallowed hard and recomposed himself.
“But, sir, we lost most of our APCs’ and combat Reps.”
“Naw,” he wickedly smiled, “Tyrell was real generous, and got some top-of-the-line combat models Sixs’ from Mars to here on a fast transport.” That made Edward sick; he never wanted to see that hellhole again! “They’ll be here in a week.”
A week?!
“Sir, do you want me on the assault?” The commander made a deep laugh that rocked his toned shoulders.
“Hell boy,” he smacked Harrison on the back. “You’re the only one that’s been in that heap of shit town! You’re the damned lead strike commander, that’s a bump in pay, privileges around the base,” He laughed again.
“Hell, you and I will be in the same pleasure club!” All of this was too much to bear for the shattered nerves of Edward.
He sat down a folder and an electronic keycard, “just remember to ask for Gloria, she’s real sweet.” With that, the commander swaggered away and left Harrison struggling not to throw up.
When he was out of the mess hall, Harrison took out a piece of paper and wrote his resignation, and checked the schedule for a shuttle back to Earth.
here is the link: http://media.bladezone.com/contents/timeline/
ENJOY!
It was finally dark over the ruined city of Kazantsev, and the Lieutenant breathed a little easier. He scanned the streets and buildings around them, looking for any sign of the enemy that had cut them down with that damned 23mm ZSU-23-4 tank.
Despite, his starlight scope revealing nothing, he knew that they were out there. He panned the scope, which he had pulled off his now-dead sniper SLR rifle, down to the street level. Reds never give up! He remembered his drill sergeant’s words. But there was nothing out there, only the burned hulks of Toyota Hilux’s, Soviet made GAZ-66 trucks, and Land Rovers, with scatterings of rumble from the collapsing building. He could relax for a little while …
Surrounding the young Lieutenant on the fifth floor of this shattered office building were the survivors of his Replicant strike team. The Soviet 23mm shells had ripped the Spinner APC vehicles to pieces, along with the bulk of the team. They had fought from the crash to this office building, and now they waited for any rescue attempt or the Reds finishing them off. But he was aware that the Soviets were afraid of the Replicants…after all Tyrell wouldn’t sell them any skin-jobs…and maybe that was keeping the Soviets at bay
In the darkness were the five artificial humans, as he gazed in the dim light of Ara’s twin moons, at their dirty faces, he said their names silently…Big Joe…the big “A” level…Brandy…Aurélie…Sonny…and David.
“Alright, ammo and equipment check! Sonny you’re watching our six.” He ordered. Sonny slipped out into the hallway and watched the stairwell. The Reps obeyed the simple command, and pulling from their load bearing harnesses of supplies that they managed to get from the burning Spinner wreckage.
“Report.”
“We’ve got three G11’s, one LMG11, but it’s only got one box magazine, your PDW version, and Sonny’s G3 along with our sidearms, sir.”
“Grenades?” He asked
“A few impact, and two WP, sir.”
That wasn’t good, he thought. While the Hecker & Koch 4.73x33mm caseless rifles and light machinegun were very good, the Lieutenant feared they would not be enough firepower to get out of the city. Their mission to rout the seasoned Soviet defenders out of the refinery was now gone; only survival was left.
He checked his own kit while he was seated and his back was against a thick wall. There was his caseless H&K personal defense weapon, and his massive the Pläger-Katumate .44 revolver. With a swift action, the LT pulled out the bulky weapon that had been developed to give police one shot kill ability on a skin-job. If you tried to pump a ticking-down Rep with 9mm, than you would not live to regard your decision. He liked the look of the PK-D; it was big and flashily, along with making a terrible noise when fire, but it sucked in normal combat conditions. The Reps were not allowed to carry the weapon, only normal human security and military personal could carry them off-world. With a slide from his thumb, the cylinder was released, and he checked if all five slots were filled.
“The comms, LT?” Asked Brandy, in her sweet voice.
“Sorry, the Reds have the area blanketed with enough EM to jam everything.” She made a face a retreated back to her position, trying to keep low.
“Orders, sir?” Asked Big Joe.
“I’m thinking damnit!” the LT snapped. “Why don’t you use that A-ranked brain and think of a way out!” Despite the darkness, the LT could see the hurt in the eyes of the massive Nexus-6 combat model.
But, he ignored the slave, and scanned the cityscape out of the cracked concrete wall. In the distance of the darkened shattered city was the heavy fuel refinery.
That was whole reason he was even here on Ara in the Gliese 674 system, to command or “handle” Skin-jobs for the Colonial Security Solutions contacted to the Cardozal/Huebrer mining corporation. The LT pulled out a canteen and shook his head; at least the Reps know they’re slaves…
It had not always been like this for Lt. Edward Harrison, the CSS had told him that this assignment was not going to be another Victoria 70, Centaur, Arcadia 234, or even Tanhauser Gate. No, here on Ara, it was to be a cake-walk while baby-sitting the Reps at base. Then the breakdown of relations over refinery changed all of that.
Ara’s deposit of heavy fuel was original claimed by the USSR, during a probe fly-by. However, they lacked the heavy lift technology to bring the fuel to market, so, with the UN’s help, the USSR and Cardozal/Huebrer Mining Corporation entered into an agreement. It was hoped that this would led to melting of the Cold War.
The miners in the pits and strip mining operations were Replicants, and the Russians saw what their isolation was not getting them. Several came up missing, and Tyrell demanded full accounting of where their skin-jobs were, and even threatened the Cardozal/Huebrer with terminating their contract for their slaves. Without Reps, Ara’s heavy fuel would not be up for sale, and they had bet the company to make this deal happen.
The Reds refused to allow CSS personal onto their base, then after a shooting incident the two sides have been leveling Kazantsev for control of the refinery ever since. He had read in the Independent Sentinel newspaper that the stock for Cardozal/Huebrer was down, and that the only way to the save the company was to push the Soviets of out the refinery.
It wasn’t more than a week later, that the entire CSS Replicant combat teams got the call to hit Kazantsev hard.
Harrison shock his head, he was here on this delightful rock to make some money. He had been a tilt-rotor cavalry commander during the 2016 Chilean War, leading soldiers into hell over and over. When the enemy’s AAA was getting too many pilots, they were forced to ask Tyrell to design some Nexas-5’s that could fly the complex machines. After that, Harrison was in command of both humans and skin-jobs. When the war ended, so was his employment, but his experience was wanted on Ara…being platoon handler of some Nexus-6 combat models.
“We’re crap on a cracker, if we don’t get out of here!” Hissed Aurélie, as she moved along the wall, being careful to avoid the intense beams of the search-lights. Harrison was just grateful that the Soviet thermal scanners were so inferior, or else they would be trading lead with them.
“Maybe we should make a deal with them.” Big Joe uttered above the LT’s panicked breathing.
“What?!”
“Maybe the Soviets wouldn’t sell our sisters into those pleasure clubs.” He looked directly at Harrison with hawk-like fierceness. Before Edward ever set foot on Ara, Joe had been in love with another “A” level Six, and the CSS handlers feared what effect that would have on one of the best Rep platoon leader, so, they took his lover to another Cardozal/Huebrer camp. The rumor around the skin-job barrack was that she was sold into a private military pleasure club…a life of prostitution.
“The Soviets are just as bad, Joe-”
“They did not have people like us, Lieutenant.” Joe stroked his G11 while correcting Harrison. The Handler knew that he had landing some points with that one and he didn’t have time to debate the whole geo-political situation on-world to this skin-job while his hold on the Reps was slipping.
“Tyrell wouldn’t even sell you skin-jobs to the Reds! They’re just using PSYCOPS to get some of you to defect so they can use you!”
“You are grasping at straws, LT.” He sneakered.
“They massacred the entire armored Spinner flotilla Joe! That 23mm hacked some your fellow skin-jobs up!” He was anger and scared. He had never had to be totally alone with the Replicants before, and he always believed if he was, than they would chop him to chucks.
He rubbed his tired eyes, maybe I’ve been reading too much KILL…
Since they were so emotion stunted, and the situation so alien to them, Harrison feared that their child-like emotion state would wreck havoc, and they would all be Soviet target practice. Harrison shot up from the dirty floor directly into the face of the massive man.
“Joe,” he whispered into the predator face of the big man, “we lose it out here, we’re dead, you, me and them.” Joe peered around the shoulder of the human, into the eyes of his soldiers.
“You don’t know, LT-”
“I don’t know what, Joe? That I don’t what it is like to be born into a situation you cannot change. I have lived eight of your lifetimes! You help me now, and your last act can be to save these people from a life of mining!”
He hated to call these things, that Tyrell cooked up in those genetic assembly plants, people, but he needed Joe to get the rest of the unit moving toward escaping Kazantsev. Harrison was painfully aware that the Reds would shoot him, and take the Reps down into the strip-pits. But the real issue was the second-in-command of this Rep platoon, David. These were not Harrison’s Replicants; in fact, he had never seen most of them before they were shot down.
During the flight from the base to the city, his handler had shared that David was less than a day from retirement. Edward firmly believed that once David seized up, the entire unit would be disheartened and then dead.
“Harrison, we are going to make our own way.” He flatly said. In that moment, the handler weighted being a POW or taking to navigate the ruins of the city.
“You’re fooling yourselves, the Soviets will work you to death.” He said while checking his weapons.
“Is that any different than you?” He pushed back. Harrison was tried of the Reps testing him and his leadership. With that he pulled off his scoured helmet, tossing it across the littered room.
“Fine, if you want-” Without warning, Harrison’s face was sprayed with warm blood, and screams flooded the small space. The human fell completely on his back with a hard slam, and he torn at his face to clean off the blood, all while cocking his PDW.
“SNIPER!” Screamed out Brandy as she bolted to the twitching body of Big Joe.
“SHIT! BIG JOE!” Cried out Aurélie.
“STAY DOWN! DON’T RETURN FIRE DAMN IT!” Edward barked. The skin-jobs lowered their German caseless weapons.
“There is a Dragunov out there!” He pointed to the other crumbling Soviet-style heavily constructed monstrosities.
“Is he…”Brandy’s voice was smothered in tears. Harrison rolled over to the titan corpus of the Nexus-6 combat model. The 7.62mm round had butchered throat to the point, that only a thin flap of skin held the head to the body…like seppuku?
“What do we do, Lieutenant?” That sniper’s bullet had done what Edward could not; bring his unit together under his leadership.
“Not a damn thing!” He hissed. “Stay down, and away from the windows or any other open space!” He signed for them to crawl out of the front room and down the hallway, away from the sniper’s eye.
For an hour, the remains of the team waiting in the hallway, Sonny had his big rifle trained on the stairwell and the main entrance, while the rest were still in shock. Harrison had seen his share of death and killing during the Chilean War, but to be talking, then have someone‘s head explode in front of you is another thing.
It was started to get cold on this rock, and Harrison tightened up his field jacket against the open conditions of the top floor. His adrenaline spun down, leaving him cold. He dared not to start a fire with all of the loose paper floating around, the Soviet would see that, and send in their shock troops to execute him. At this point, he fooled himself into believing that the Soviets were convicted that they nailed the lone survivor of the attack, and they were back at base celebrating. But he couldn’t risk it.
No, he told himself, cold is better than dead…a little better. Walking around was risky, with the search lights cutting brilliant shifts of intense menacing light and that sniper was still out there in the rumble. He tore into a foil-wrapped field ration pouch, trying to use calories to keep himself warm. All the while ignoring what the Reps were saying to one another.
“What is the plan, Lieutenant?” David asked in a salty tone while lording over him. The sudden and violent death of their leader was adding to the stress, and Edward had to figure a way out before the unit cohesion broken downcompletely. He didn’t care anymore about heat/light discipline, with a nervous hand; he took out a hard pack of fat Boyard Papier Mais cigarettes. With a shaking hand, he pulled out a yellow stubby cigarette, and lit it. With a moment of joy, he simply smoked, like it was last pleasure on this god-forsaken rock.
“Sir, the thermals-”
“I don’t care, David!” He moved away from the young human, and left to finish is Boyard in peace. Once the sin was done, David crab walked back to the still seated LT.
“We have to be out of here by morning, you agree?” David looked directly at him, that was a habit that the skin-jobs did that Harrison never cared for.
“Yes, however being on foot is much too dangerous with the sniper teams about, and the APC Spinners are trashed.” He paused and repacked his Boyards, “we got to search the streets for a heavy duty truck.” While he and David were in another more interior room, Brandy and Aurélie moved the decapitated body of Joe into another room with a blood trail coloring the dusty floor. Now there are four of us…
“The Soviets know where we are.” Edward spoke grimly
“No doubt.” The Rep spoke, but did not peel his eyes from the body of Big Joe.
“They’ll be here in the morning with AKs are the ready.”
“Last stand, sir?” Harrison looked at the ticker rep with a funny expression.
“No,” he shook his head, “we’re getting the hell out of here.” He crouch down and walked to Sonny in the corridor.
“I got a mission for the two of us, the rest of you,” Harrison pointed to the three Reps. “Sit, stay, we’ll be back.”
He darted around the fifth floor of the broken office building, with Sonny covering him with his G3. Harrison did not want to be another notch in that Red’s sniper book! Every vehicle on the street seemed to be burned up, and he cussed wildly when he saw the shake-n-bake job on all of the vehicles. If they were still here in the morning, his brain told him, the entire CSS assault on Kazantsev would be a complete slaughter.
“We’re never going to get out of here.” He moaned under his breath, as Sonny watched. Fighting in built-up areas was a brutal affair, soldiers used whatever was on hand to move up a few feet, and every street in Kazantsev bore those scars.
“Lieutenant, train your scope on that alleyway, one klick north.” He peered over the window frame and in the grainy green glow was a seemly untouched Mercedes-Benz UNIMOG military truck!
“Jesus H.Hubbard!” He nearly shouted. “Now, if that big German’s got gas...” He wondered aloud, hope was starting to filter through his tried body.
“Someone is going to have to go out there and check, LT.” Harrison nodded to Sonny’s suggestion.
“You volunteering, Sonny?” He needled.
“I’m a slave, sir, not stupid, or quick.” Sonny’s words gave the LT the prefect candidate. When they arrived back in the room, Harrison cast an eye on Aurélie. She was a lean, tall pretty thing, with legs like a cheetah. He had cast a greedy eye toward her in the Rep barracks, and he could have ordered her to please him…but something always stopped him.
“Aurélie, on me.” She moved from her defense position, and crouched next to him on the floor, her dark large eyes locked on him like an Owl sweeping in for the mouse.
“Sonny ID’ed an UNIMOG truck down an alley way one klick straight north of us. For what we can tell, it’s intact.” He peered around at the other skin-jobs, “but we need to confirm that.” They all gave their handler a grim look. They had already seen many of their own go down out there… He thought.
“Sir, there has to be a better-”
“Shut up, David!” the lieutenant snapped his neck to the Rep. “She’s going, so we can evac outta here, before the Reds make me into a greasy spot!” A cold hush fell on them, as Aurélie started to strip out of her tactical gear.
“Got be fast.” She whispered to herself. While she worked her way down to her fatigues, Sonny showed her where the Mercedes was.
As the thin Rep started down the staircase, David fished out his VP70 9mm pistol, and offered to Aurélie, who shook her delicate head. “No thanks, it’ll only slow me down.”
“And what if some big bad Russian comes to air you out?” Mocked Brandy.
“I’ll push his eyes in.” She jetted out two of her thin long fingers in a kung-fu grip like motion, producing laugher all around.
“Aurélie,” the LT pointed at her, “check the UNIMOG, make sure it able to run, check the battery-”
“Sir, I’m not a ‘C’ level!”
“Move your ass, skin-job.” He growled at her. She mocked a salute and moved down the stairs. “Sonny, you got her?” He called out down the hallway.
“Yeah, over-watching her.” With his stripped sniper scope, Harrison watched her bound out into the shattered boomtown. The city was a collection of prefab miner homes, some shops, but the town was dominated by the pipe maze of the refinery and launching pads. The odd thing was, as the handler observed the gracefully running of the Rep, was that he could see fields of green just beyond the concrete. Not like back on-world…
“She’s at a brick pile.” David broke Harrison’s thoughts. He pulled the starlight scope back to see her looking at a path to the alleyway.
The sharp cracking report of RPK light machine gun echoed through the valley, lit up the street, snapping dust all around Aurélie.
“We got no choice!” Edward commanded to David. The tall Rep hammered out some caseless toward the muzzle flashes, and then Brandy and Sonny followed with covering fire of their own. It’s done now…the Reds now know how many we are and where!
Harrison had to admit that it felt damn good to unleash some caseless at his enemy, and while the thick metal blanket of fire kept the Russians heads down, Aurélie bolted out of cover and disappeared into the inky blackness of the alleyway.
“She’s there!” The LT signed for cease fire. “Reload! And get ready, they could be coming!” Brandy left the room, and took a covering position over the stairwell.
In those moments, the Handler did not feel like he was command a bunch of toasters, but they felt like soldiers to him.
“LT, Aurélie is signing.” He lifted up his starlight scope, and saw the long lean Rep flashing the sign that the UNIMOG was good.
“Lieutenant, may I make a suggestion?” Asked David.
“Go ahead.”
“We should leave now, while Aurélie is already on-station with transport.” It seemed suddenly like whatever god there was on Ara, was smiling on them now.
“Brandy, Sonny, we’re leaving.” Each of them wore a shocked but excited expression.
“On me.” The Replicants formed up on Harrison, and there his human eyes saw David trying to hide a limp arm. He ignored it.
“Aurélie’s got the UNIMOG warmed up, and the Soviets are busy under cover, we should run our asses out of this death trap and to the vehicle. Covering pattern, nothing fancy.” He ordered.
“David, join me.” Harrison crawled over to the body of Big Joe, and released the G11 from his chest rig and some extra magazines. The coming situation, Edward realized that he would need the punch of the rifle.
“Sir?”
“You’re limp, explain.” He looked sheepishly away.
“My inception date is today.” That shocked Harrison, most of the time, CSS wouldn’t send out ticker Reps that close to retirement. Cardozal/Huebrer must be desperate to get this shit over on Ara.
“David, there isn’t a damn thing I can do for you.”
“I know, just let me cover the unit to the truck.” Harrison nodded and handed him another long 4.73mm magazine.
“Let’s go.”
They rushed out a massive break in the dense walls of the building, at a dead run. Harrison and Brandy tossed white phosphorus grenades to throw up some smoke, as the others shot at anything.
Harrison pushed himself through the junk in the road, while Soviet AK’s started to hit around him. With a final push, the Lieutenant ducked under cover, and reloaded.
“DAVID’S DOWN!” Harrison cracked his head to Brandy pointing at the tall skin-job laying in the middle of the road, near a burned out GAZ-66 truck.
“BRANDY! SONNY! GIVE ME SOME COVERING FIRE!”
They sprayed the area where the Soviet fire was coming from, and Harrison ran low to the motionless Replicant lying in the open street.
Harrison practically slid into the downed soldier, while banging out caseless fire.
“Are you okay? David? DAVID!” The Reps eyes blinked heavily, and his arms behaved as if they were separate from his body.
“David! Get the hell up!” He pulled the Rep up, but his legs gave out.
“LT…leave me…”
“Damn, that’s a tired line, skin-job!” Harrison had little choice; he opened the cab to the OD truck.
“Grab your G11!” But David’s right hand could not close on the carrying handle. With a desperate last act, Harrison slammed the skin-job into the vehicle. It was the only cover, but now they were trapped.
Harrison went to work checking the Rep for any wounds, and discovered none. He’s close…the human thought as he noticed the full-body shakes and floppy limbs.
Soviet 5.45mm rounds raked the truck and cracked the massive wind-shield, but Harrison just stared that the failing skin-jobs.
“David…” Words failed him, as he watched his hand twitch, dropping the G11 on the floorboard of the Soviet heavy truck. He scooped up the weapon, reloaded it, and pushed into the Reps other hand.
“Can you fire with the left one?!” He screamed over the crack-crack of the impacting rounds slammed into the windshield. David nodded as best he could with the breakdown of cellular ATP energy production.
“You’re locked and loaded.” Then un-holstered his PK-D and laid on the lap of the man.
“For when they get close.” He smiled weakly, to the nearly expressionless face of the Replicant.
“Get…out…L…T…” He gasped. Harrison bolted out of the GAZ-66, and ran for the Mercedes UNIMOG with Soviet lead snapping at his heels. But above that, there was the steady fire of a G11.
“Harrison, get your ass in!” Cried Brandy. With a savage crack on the manual transmission, Sonny thrashed the old OD vehicle forward under a hail of fire. Brandy sprayed the area around the GAZ-66 with machine gun fire, as Sonny wrestled the massive wheel, turned in the great German beast back toward the CSS compound.
“Anyone see David?” The LT yelled over the roar of the fossil fuel engine. Aurélie pulled up her field glasses.
“Flashing of a big pistol,” she looked down at the flopping holster on Harrison’s right hip. “And Reds are danger close.” Harrison threw himself down to the metal rusted floor and collapsed against the canvas side.
“It’s over.” He huffed. Not a word was spoken between them on the ride back to the base. All eyes were locked on the disappearing Soviet truck, and the soldier they left behind.
When Harrison finally finished with the debriefing and the psych-evaluations, he sat down in a quiet corner of the hauler private mess hall, and opened a copy of Independent Sentinel newspaper. While slipping a strong brew of coffee, he cracked the business pages, and checked the stock price of Cardozal/Huebrer mining corporation and Colonial Security Solutions, both were down.
“Harrison,” called out the field commander for the CSS personal across the chow hall.
“Sir!” He shot up and saluted the man.
“Sit, son, you earned the coffee.” He sat down across from Harrison.
“The on-world suits are screaming for another strike into the boomtown, you up for it?” Harrison swallowed hard and recomposed himself.
“But, sir, we lost most of our APCs’ and combat Reps.”
“Naw,” he wickedly smiled, “Tyrell was real generous, and got some top-of-the-line combat models Sixs’ from Mars to here on a fast transport.” That made Edward sick; he never wanted to see that hellhole again! “They’ll be here in a week.”
A week?!
“Sir, do you want me on the assault?” The commander made a deep laugh that rocked his toned shoulders.
“Hell boy,” he smacked Harrison on the back. “You’re the only one that’s been in that heap of shit town! You’re the damned lead strike commander, that’s a bump in pay, privileges around the base,” He laughed again.
“Hell, you and I will be in the same pleasure club!” All of this was too much to bear for the shattered nerves of Edward.
He sat down a folder and an electronic keycard, “just remember to ask for Gloria, she’s real sweet.” With that, the commander swaggered away and left Harrison struggling not to throw up.
When he was out of the mess hall, Harrison took out a piece of paper and wrote his resignation, and checked the schedule for a shuttle back to Earth.
BSG: Blood and Chrome Concept Art!
Three offical images of concept art as just been released on the up coming new Battlestar Galactica prequel series, Blood & Chrome!
(This cover art haunted me as a kid, and this image of the Cylon holding the human make me have the same reaction.)
Here is some offical world on the series: "Executive producer David Eick is at the controls of the new series, with the plan being to present a more action-packed storyline than the now canceled Caprica prequel show."
Here we have the second image, and this is appears to be a early Raptor being chased by a classic Cylon raider through some ruins.
The third piece of concept art shows a snowy battle scene a base. This brings back memories of the classic BSG and one can clearly see the bridging of the old and new here. Coupled with the image above, I believe that one of the first battles between the Cylons and the Colonies will take place on a Arctic research station...The odd snowsnake is something that B&C would have to introduce in a clever manner to sell it.
Battlestar Galactica: Blood & Chrome will be out some time in late 2011 or early 2012 as a miniseries, then, much like Galactica it may be developed into a full-blown frakking series.
While the BSG crew may have frakked up with Caprica, Blood & Chrome will be a return to the roots of the series and answering some questions that have been hanging around since the series...also, B&C will be a nice chance to bridge elements of the classic series into the new Battlestar universe.
So say we all!
The first stunning image reminds me of the cover art for Queen's Champions of the World (see below), where the robot as killed the humans and looks puzzled. The clearly female Cylon in the B&C image seems to be the "missing link" between the biological Cylons and the warrior-toasters models. Here were can clearly see a flesh hand and some blood, maybe the first step. My worry, is that B&C will be venturing close to the Terminator universe, instead of developing elements from the classic Battlestar series. I wonder while looking at it, if the female Cylon was assigned to this outpost, or the humans were advancing Cylon technology will the coup happened.
Here is some offical world on the series: "Executive producer David Eick is at the controls of the new series, with the plan being to present a more action-packed storyline than the now canceled Caprica prequel show."
"Battlestar Galactica: Blood & Chrome takes place in the 10th year of the first Cylon war. As the battle between humans and their creation, a sentient robotic race, rages across the 12 colonial worlds, a brash rookie viper pilot enters the fray. Ensign William Adama, barely in his 20′s and a recent Academy graduate, finds himself assigned to the newest battlestar in the Colonial fleet’ the Galactica. The talented but hot-headed risk-taker soon finds himself leading a dangerous top secret mission that, if successful, will turn the tide of the decade long war in favor of the desperate fleet."
The third piece of concept art shows a snowy battle scene a base. This brings back memories of the classic BSG and one can clearly see the bridging of the old and new here. Coupled with the image above, I believe that one of the first battles between the Cylons and the Colonies will take place on a Arctic research station...The odd snowsnake is something that B&C would have to introduce in a clever manner to sell it.Battlestar Galactica: Blood & Chrome will be out some time in late 2011 or early 2012 as a miniseries, then, much like Galactica it may be developed into a full-blown frakking series.
While the BSG crew may have frakked up with Caprica, Blood & Chrome will be a return to the roots of the series and answering some questions that have been hanging around since the series...also, B&C will be a nice chance to bridge elements of the classic series into the new Battlestar universe.
So say we all!
16 December 2010
US Navy tests 32MJ Rail Gun!
The rail gun as been a promise of military science fiction for some time, I can recall, during the heady days of SDI, of satellites in orbit armed with rail guns.
Now, its 2010, we are finally seeing the promise fulfilled. Navy surface warfare center tested a 32 megajoules EM cannon that propelled a oddly-shaped projectile at over 5640 MPH. At that velocity, it could outpace the ability for a target to counter the incoming round.
The nature of Naval rail gun is could swing the primary naval war-vessel from the super-carrier back to the battleship...or they could combine the two...into a battlestar?
Sorry, couldn't resist!
The range of this $250 million badass? 126 miles.
Not only that, but this naval rail gun could be used as defense against missiles, air targets, and of course, other ships. The round of a rail gun would have the kinetic punch to knock a crippling blow to an enemy ship...and the level of armor protection at this point is moot.
The rail gun trumps them.
The amazing thing about see a real-life rail gun is the plasma plume...and amount of support that a weapon like this would require. It reminds me of the massive naval guns of the Iowa or Yamato class.
So, are we going back to the WWII battleship?
here is the official youtube video on the test:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWS1dBrAAJU
Now, its 2010, we are finally seeing the promise fulfilled. Navy surface warfare center tested a 32 megajoules EM cannon that propelled a oddly-shaped projectile at over 5640 MPH. At that velocity, it could outpace the ability for a target to counter the incoming round.
Sorry, couldn't resist!
The range of this $250 million badass? 126 miles.
Not only that, but this naval rail gun could be used as defense against missiles, air targets, and of course, other ships. The round of a rail gun would have the kinetic punch to knock a crippling blow to an enemy ship...and the level of armor protection at this point is moot.
The rail gun trumps them.
The amazing thing about see a real-life rail gun is the plasma plume...and amount of support that a weapon like this would require. It reminds me of the massive naval guns of the Iowa or Yamato class.
So, are we going back to the WWII battleship?
here is the official youtube video on the test:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWS1dBrAAJU
The World War Robot Graphic Novel
I came across a graphic novel by painter/designer Ashley Wood, entitled World War Robot during some web research. From the IDW website, I got this short bit of information on the plot:
"Award-winning designer/artist Ashley Wood (Popbot, Zombies vs. Robots) has handled his share of robots over the years. And now, he presents total robot war. In World War Robot, a dwindling band of humans and robots face off in a battle that will likely end humanity as we know it... on Earth, on the Moon, and on Mars, too. Badass battles, really intense human/robot drama, and even a little black humor and political intrigue are the order of the day in this oversize (one foot long by one foot wide!), standalone epic courtesy of Wood.
World War Robot is a story currently told through two art books (with a third coming!) by Ashley Wood of a world that develops heavy robotics and some degree of space travel, as 1980’s Earth is at war with its colony on Mars, which has declared independence. Both sides are supplied with their war machines by Rothchild Industries, based in an impregnable facility on Luna. The shadow organization NOM (Not Ordinary Men) is working towards some unknown motive, with their most prolific member Nom de Plume being something of the ThreeA mascot."
World War Robot is a story currently told through two art books (with a third coming!) by Ashley Wood of a world that develops heavy robotics and some degree of space travel, as 1980’s Earth is at war with its colony on Mars, which has declared independence. Both sides are supplied with their war machines by Rothchild Industries, based in an impregnable facility on Luna. The shadow organization NOM (Not Ordinary Men) is working towards some unknown motive, with their most prolific member Nom de Plume being something of the ThreeA mascot."
I was hooked and immediately contacted my local Barnes&Noble to have them hold one...then Nigel and I preformed some recon on World War Robot. I believed that this would be similar to Shrapnel or even the excellent steampunk robot graphic novel Boilerplate. (if you have not looked at the Boilerplate, then you are missing out!)
However, when I got my hands on the one-foot-by-one-foot hardbacked graphic novel, I was left confused by World War Robot.While the art was stunning, bold, and often rich visuals on the desperate war-torn future, the story, what little there was of it, was placed on the bottom of these panoramic pages, in small black font. It seemed lost and detached from the brilliant and bold art.
This pieces of story were diary entries or letters, explaining some of the war and the desperate state of human. I was disappointed by the few portions of the story, contrasting with the hollowing visuals. It was like silent movie of a future war, but something was missing to me.
This experience with World War Robot reminded me of my disappointment with the Shrapnel graphic novel. If the art was to be the vehicle for the story and the primary purpose for the book itself, than the muddy and muted style was not up for that. Shrapnel was this way, the mecha designs were stunning online, however, within the pages of the graphic novel, they were too dark and unsteady to see the complex detail. Much can be said of World War Robot.The images you see posted here on the blog, are from from the graphic novel, and more beautiful in person. I would love to have nearly all of these hanging in my study to admire for a lifetime...but the style does not give enough detail for me to finish off the story when the small portions of text leaves me with more.
It is not the talent of Mr. Wood I have issue with, he is clearly one of the most talented artists I have seen in years. But, the style being drape, muted, and defused, leaves most of the action being portrayed in a depressed, lonely, and hopeless light. Which gives the reader the gravity of the situation, but not the reason why this war and even where the action is happened most of the time. While the description from IDW said the Moon, Mars, and Earth, all of the painting could have been set in No-Man's Land in 1915, and I wouldn't have known the difference.
What more WWR?
If you want more World War Robot, than Michael Bay might have you covered. His production company bought the rights to the graphic novel and a line of high-end toys is being currently produced, they sell for about $300. A line of action figures by ThreeA will be released soon as well. I am about to order the complete World War Robot cheaper from another source, then writing a limited fan flash fiction serial on this universe...to try a give the those beautiful painting some flesh and bone. The tentatively title is "the Cydonia Offensive," and will be told in six parts.
LINKS
 |
Here is a link to a review with io9.com:
http://io9.com/342512/io9-talks-to-half-of-world-war-robotHere is a link to the toymarkers blog, ThreeA:
http://www.threeaonline.com/blog/
Here is the ThreeA wiki page:
http://threeawiki.com/World_War_Robot
11 December 2010
The FWS movie review of Starship Troopers
This is the FWS review of the 1997 film that was semi-based off the 1959 founding classic of Military Science Fiction by Robert A. Heinlein. Starship Troopers was a major release of that year and is one of few military sci-fi movies ever made by a major studio. The $100 million movie completely changed the theme, feeling, and the majority of the cast was setting of the Bug War from the book.
The film also vexes me deeply.
On one hand, the film is the one of the few truly Military Sci-Fi to show large-scale warfare in the future (I am not looking at you Star Wars Prequels!), but then on the other hand, it is not the film it should be.
Paul Verhoeven did a great job with Robocop, but his tongue-deeply-in-cheek style with the ultra-cartoon violence betrayed the movie that was to be our Braveheart...or Saving Private Ryan, instead we got a nicely made B movie.
What we should have gotten was is a classic, like Avatar or Aliens.
THE GOOD
-Michael Ironside
-Some of the dialog..."this is for you new people..."
-The location sites for the bug planets...looked alien without much special effects.
-The action on Klendathu and the post-action scenes at battle-station were grim, informing the viewer, in a visual method, the horror of this war.
-The Fednet. I think this was an excellent way to introduce the complexities of the Federation, the Bugs, and Federation society into a neat little package.
THE BAD
-The Federation can drive faster-than-light, make micro-nukes, colonize other worlds, but some how the concept of close air support is beyond them? Or even a light machine gun, or a grenade launcher? Did no one on the set think of combine arms?
-This flick broken the promise and protental of the novel, and that a good blockbuster movie could propel Military Sci-Fi into the limelight. It was Halo and Avatar that finally lived up milestone that Aliens set in 1986.
-The massive Morita rifle. Why would a bull-pup rifle need to be this big? Isn't that why who make a bullpup? To reduce the length of the total weapon while keeping a long barrel?
-The live-fire combat course-no one in their right bloody mind would do such a thing, especially with no protection for the troops and staff not on the course. We even have that in paintball!
-Throwing knives? I would love to see what a tiny throwing knife could do to warrior bug or even the M.I. trooper's body armor.
-The over-the-top acting, nudity, and emotions...ugh.
THE UGLY
"Paul Verhoeven never finished reading the novel, claiming he read through the first few chapters and became both bored and depressed", in addition the website also says that: "the Heinlein novel was optioned well into the pre-production period of the film, which had a working title of Bug Hunt at Outpost Nine; most of the writing team reportedly were unaware of the novel at the time"
REMAKE?
There have been rumors on the web for years that the Sci-Fi channel was going to make a mini-series out of the book, similar to Dune. Nothing, yet as come of it.
My Personal conflict with Starship Troopers
I don't like the mockery of the messages from the book, nor is most of the acting able to handle the emotions and drama of the scenes.
But...The action, locations, the Morita rifle (god help me!) and special effects are dead-on, and it is nice to see a real live-action, well-made, big budget military sci-fi film. I guess, I'll keep on watching it...until the Forever War comes out in 2013.-Stay Frosty
William
07 December 2010
The Next Flash Fiction Serial
Fellow Readers of FWS...
After the holidays, FWS will gearing up for the next flash fiction serial. The subject matter for the next FFS was original selected has a futuristic invasion of Normandy called Beachhead.
However, my writer's block as put a halt on that series, and that forced FWS to use the planned HALO fan fiction serial called Frontlines. I have most of these written and on the way to being finished, and also, HALO fan-fiction would allow the series to be placed on other websites...hopefully generating some more buzz about FWS.
HALO: Frontlines will be about 14 parts, showing the Human/Covenant War from different points-of-view than just the SPARTANs and ODSTs. Most of the stories are concerning ground forces, while a few others will show other positions within the UNSC. The idea for HALO: Frontlines came from my thoughts on what another HALO game could look like.
What can you, the reader, expect from HALO: Frontlines?
First off, I am lover of the HALO universe, as most of you can guess, and that I take great pride in offering some stories that have not been seen.
Second, deep research. I scoured many websites for research on the elements within HALO: Frontlines. Third, readers will have stories orbiting around major events in the HALO timeline. For example:
http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page
and
http://halofanon.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page
and
http://halo.bungie.org/
After the holidays, FWS will gearing up for the next flash fiction serial. The subject matter for the next FFS was original selected has a futuristic invasion of Normandy called Beachhead.
However, my writer's block as put a halt on that series, and that forced FWS to use the planned HALO fan fiction serial called Frontlines. I have most of these written and on the way to being finished, and also, HALO fan-fiction would allow the series to be placed on other websites...hopefully generating some more buzz about FWS.
What can you, the reader, expect from HALO: Frontlines?
First off, I am lover of the HALO universe, as most of you can guess, and that I take great pride in offering some stories that have not been seen.
Second, deep research. I scoured many websites for research on the elements within HALO: Frontlines. Third, readers will have stories orbiting around major events in the HALO timeline. For example:
- One story will be a "novelization" of the Deliver Hope trailer for HALO: REACH
- Another story will show the dark deeds of Noble Six prior to his/her joining Noble Team
- HALO: Frontlines will have a rewritten ending to HALO: REACH, and a semi-novelization as well.
- A possible plot line for HALO: 4.
- A rescue mission based on the 1989 DELTA Force rescue of Kurt Muse in Panama
- Another story with everyone's favorite ODST: Edward Buck!
- A special space assault pilots of Longsword fighters, in a Doolittle fashioned raid
http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page
and
http://halofanon.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page
and
http://halo.bungie.org/
28 November 2010
Forgotten Classics: SPACE: ABOVE AND BEYOND
Forgotten Classics is a new series on FWS, that will explore military science fiction that have disappeared from the collective memory of the general public. I can think of no other better example of a forgotten classic that the subject of the first installment of the FWS Forgotten Classics of Military Sci-Fi: SPACE: ABOVE AND BEYOND (SAAB). This was a short-run military FOX TV sci-fi series that ran from September 1995 to June 1996, over the course of just 24 episodes. The series was created by X-Files producers Glen Morgan and James Wong. The series originally was to run for a total of five season, only lasted one and ending on a cliff-hanger. The series was released in its entirely on a (very) basic DVD collection in 2005. For some fans of sci-fi, this was one of the open salvos of FOX cancelling promising science fiction shows before their time. This was Firefly before Firefly. The Basic Plot
Nathan qualifies for Marine Space Aviator training in Alabama, where he meets the rest of the regular class, including a In-Vitro sentenced to the USMC, Cooper Hawks. During their training, the colonial vessel bearing Kylen was attacked and crashed on Tellus. The UN informs the world that not only does life exist outside of Earth, but these alien wiped out Vista and Tellus. Nathan and the rest of the 58th are rushed through training and mobilized to the front in their He3 burring SA-43 Hammerhead dual atmospheric fighters The 58th Squad, now named "the Wildcards" is led by Colonel T.C, McQueen (one of the best sci-fi characters!), an In-Vitro Special Operations attack jet pilot, wounded in the opening battles of the war, and now assigned to the United States Naval Space Carrier Saratoga. Throughout the rest of the series, the core characters personal struggles are highlighted against the backdrop of the bloody war with the "Chig" aliens. The series ends on a bittersweet note, a cliffhanger coupled with death and hope.The Impact of SAAB
Up until SAAB, there had not been a show firmly centered around a future war on a space carrier since the classic Battlestar Galactica. This show came at a time when Star Trek and it's clean vision of the future dominated the sci-fi landscape, while SAAB showed the grittier, darker side of a future in space.While the show is not well known today, due to the infancy of the Internet at the time of its TV run, it has impacted people creating sci-fi today, with its more realistic air. All one has to do, to see the impact of SAAB is by watch the new Battlestar Galactica, if it was not for SAAB then the new Battlestar Galactica would not have been as breathtaking and groundbreaking. 
While CGI effects were featured on other sci-fi shows like Babylon 5, SAAB aired on a major network with a healthy budget allowing for then-cutting-edge CGI. These effects were one of the most expense elements of the show. While I cannot confirm this, it is my firm belief that SAAB influenced the first HALO game. One just has to look at the M590 and the MA5B, the Pelican dropship and ISSCV to witness that Bungie mined the series for their games. In addition, SAAB,was one of the few military science fictions to use conventional weaponry and not energy based weapons, and shortly after this, the trend in military science fiction was to use conventional bullet-firing kinetic weaponry. Consider the USMC 7.62x51mm M590 of Space:Above and Beyond and the UNSC 7.62x51mm MA5B of HALO: Combat Evolved. Along with the ISSAPC from SAAB and the Pelican from HALO.
Why SAAB is a MSF Classic?
The reason that Space: Above and Beyond (SAAB) is a classic of Military Science Fiction is for it being unique and filled with, what I can only describe as, dark poetry. The last sci-fi property to be set in such a world was ALIENS in 1986. Unlike the Star Trek films and shows, this series did not always project humanity any differently than today, they drank, used drugs, wanted sex, had dirty-minds, along with racism being alive and well in 2063, and this gave the series an edge not seen in main-stream sci-fi TV show before. Watching marines fight in the terrible conditions of an off-world battlefield while people die, and not just the "red-shirts". 
Another way that it is a classic, is that SAAB setup things to come, namely Battlestar Galactica with its dark tone and realistic military portray. Another reason for me, that SAAB is classic, is that it was original. The concept of marines in space fighting an aggressive unknown alien species is not new, but how they showed the world of 2063 is. The USMC is showed much like it is today, the Chigs were shown as complex and brutal, all while preserving an air of mystery. The show's producers, Morgan and Wong, were able masterfully incorporate elements like Johnny Cash, Imperial Japan war-time poetry, Shakespeare, the band X (I kid you not), and humanoid robots that rebelled, all in the same show without making it looked forced or alien to the overall concept. Only Battlestar Galactica has been able to perform such a task recently. The Historical Context of SAAB
Why Did It End?
SAAB suffered from the same decisions that also killed Firefly, being jerked around the TV schedule, not enough promotion, and a lack of faith in the show itself. In addition, FOX aired SAAB on Sunday nights, after football, and often the show was delayed, losing the audience or like in my case, your VCR would only tape half of it! Also, FOX believed that the producers of the X-Files could create another mega-hit in this dark-sci-fi war show. However, the sci-fi nature of SAAB did not attract the legions of X-Files fans, nor did the dark dirt hard atmosphere of the show attach fans of the happier Star-Trek universe. The other reasons for the canceling the series was money and rating. If SAAB had the pull of the audience , then the ad money would have flowed in, and the rumored one-million-bucks-an-episode production cost would have been justified. It is my belief, that only because of the X-Files success and the connect of SAAB to that show was the only reason that the remainder of the season completed, if it had not been, then it would have ended like Firefly.
Is There an Future for SAAB?
I have read a few rumors that Ronald D. Moore, the god of the new Battlestar Galactica, original approached the Sci-Fi Channel about a remake of SAAB, his second pitch wa BSG. If this is true, than it is possible that a remake is in the future. However it took 20 years for BSG to get a remake. At the moment, SAAB is fondly remembered by fans like me who forge a spot for their beloved show in the old interwebs. Sadly, I do not think there is much of a future for this show, but its influence will live on in the hearts and minds of fans.
The 2005 DVD Release and the 2012 Release
In 2005, SAAB was finally released on DVD in a 10 disc box set, and while it is nice to finally have the complete series on DVD, the release was disappointing. Little money was spend on it, and there is no special features, no interviews, and somehow the Babylon 5 space station makes an appearance on the title menu screen! I really believed when the DVD collection was released, that Space:Above and Beyond would get some respect and notice, but given the bare-bones nature of the release, it looks like more of the same for the series. In 2012, a United Kingdom media company released a Region 2 PAL DVD set that included all of the features missing from the barebones 2005 release: new interviews, deleted scenes, galleries, some commentary on the epsiodes. Sadly, this was not released on a format for United States DVD players, leaving us out in the cold.
The Best Five Episodes of the Series
- The Farthest Man From Home (episode#2)
- Ray Butts (episode #5 and my personal favorite)
- The River of Stars (episode #11. this is the Xmas story that uses a great WWI historic event)
- Who Monitors the Birds? (episode #12, the original of Hawks and an sniper assassination mission)
- The Angriest Angel (episode #15, the single best episode of SAAB)
this is the best website for SAAB.
25 November 2010
Behind the pages of CUSTOM
Custom was born out of watching HBO's The Pacific, while trying to come up with an idea for a flash fiction website submission. At the time, I was trying to publish a short story and not having any success at that, I tried my hand at flash fiction. The idea came suddenly and within a hour the first part was done, after two hours, I had the complete story arch. My plan was to sell Custom as a serial, but no one went for it, so when we opened FWS, this was the natural place for it.
- The Nix are born out of episode of the Pacific were those crabs were everywhere, and mixed with the nightmare of the Warhammer 40,000's Tyranids.
- The concept of the Customized soldier is nothing really new, but I wanted Jamie to be fighting for her survival in different way, not just her life, but the very soil. The name Jamie Jaren comes from...no...you're going to have to google that one.
The .410 Shatter handgun is a semi-real thing, my father talked of buying a Taurus Judge Revolver, and from the damage that it can do, it seemed prefect for dealing death at close range. While the Reaper rifle that fires flechettes is a nod to the Steyr ACR concept rifle from the mid-1980's. Flechettes are something that I would want in my hands during a war, they are nasty and during the 1980's it looked we (USA/NATO) might be going that direction. Well, that didn't happen.
- The hardsuits are a nod to the great cyberpunk Anime epic, Bubblegum Crisis, one of my favorite Anime series. I didn't want the Custom soldiers to be in armor powered suits, been writing too much about them lately
- My concept was for a story arch of the desperate of the situations were you are just hanging on to survival, then in one moment, you just don't frakking care anymore.
- The Jeep was nod to the epic Jeep Unlimited Rubicon and the WWII Willys Jeep that helped us win the war
- Wireless Ridge is a reference to the Falklands War, and Vickers is a nod to the Vickers Machine Gun.
- BTW-Anyone catch the Portal reference in part Three FOB? That took some doing, but it makes me smile every time I read it!
- The Atchisson Auto-Shotgun is the AA-12 in the real world, and I put this in the serial due to watching the Future Weapons Video on the AA-12 and it's steer destructive power left me speechless.
19 November 2010
CUSTOM: Part 11-Dead Man's Trigger
She woke up to pounding on the hatch. In an alcohol soaked fog, she scooped her flechette rifle, and stumbled to the airlock.
Who the hell was this?!
Pounding on the small pothole was a blooded fist, and Jamie shot back with weapon trained on the pothole.
“PLEASE LET ME IN! FOR GOD’S SAKE, PLEASE!” That sobered her right up, with one hand on her weapon, she keyed opened the hatch. The wounded soldier fell into the airlock, flipped around and sprayed the Nix that chased him. Before he could put one of them down, it sliced leg, cutting it into a jagged bloody spraying wound.
Jamie re-sealed the hatch, dragging the wounded Custom into the command room. He begged for his mother and morphine with howling screams that echoed throughout the empty room. Jamie injected the morphine, applied a pressure bandage on the spraying wound, and held the trooper.
She held him until he stopped screaming, until he stopped breathing…until he was cold.
Then the pounded started again. This time it was not a human fist that bashed on the airlock, and she knew it was just a matter of time now. Waves of deep sadness washed over her, for the Nix to be at the airlock, meant that every defense lines were crushed.
Then one thought bolted through her: I’m last Custom on the entire Honiara Moon and here is was the final ground,
With the last of the General’s Scotch, she honored the soldier under a sheet on the cold metal floor of this domed building. With the last drop of the harsh drink, the full weight of the situation fell on her. The Nix had taken Vickers, and the compounds robot cannons were dry, the shuttles were gone. The airlock doors were fortified with every goddamn piece of furniture in the dome. She prepared with every weapon locked and loaded around the room for the moment when they broke though.
It only took them an hour to punch through both doors. Jamie was ready with are automatic shotgun. When the door collapsed from the body slams of the Nix phalanx, Jamie fired, jammed up the door with bodies, trapping them inside the corridor. Dozens died before they could even enter the room.
She could not hold them off forever, and when they spread out, she tossed grenades, and laid down buckshot. Their death-wails indoors nearly shattered her helmet.
When one weapon was dry, she rushed to another stashed around the command center. Each time, Jamie was sure that the Nix would get her, and perform their horrific slice-and-dice.
When every weapon was depleted, she drew her last weapon, her trusty pistol, and unloaded on the nearest Nix.
But one outflanked her.
The claw swept up, tossing Jamie’s .410. It was gone. The creature followed it up by another claw sliced to the inside of her legs, sending her down. That was normally the end of a Custom trooper, but she fought back with a knife in one hand slashing in blind terror and the dead man trigger in the other. But another claw savagely diced her armor, and spilling out her large intestine into her hands.
Death was near.
“This is my world, asshole.” She pushed down the trigger.
The Bashar saw the nuclear mushroom cloud while waiting in low orbit. The Captain scrolled around her expansive bridge, looking at the banks of projected holo-screens.
“Report, Mr. Hikaru.”
“Total loss, Vickers is a smoking hole.”
“Any sign of survivors?” The Captain had once been a hot-stick dropship pilot; she had pulled many asses out of the fire. That made her always had concern over the Customs that were left in the field.
“Couple of fruit-flies are fighting in an outline jungle station.”
The Captain spun around and leveled a finger at the sensor officer. “Customs, Mr. Hikaru! Watch your tongue!” He looked down sheepishly.
“Sorry, Ma’am.” Hikaru was red from embarrassment.
“Have a couple of supply modules dropped.” She knew that it would not do much good, the fight was lost on the ground below, but she felt if anyone was left down there, than food, water, and bullets was the least she could do.
“Ms. Hughes,” Spoke the Captain with a grave voice while checking her watch. “All shuttle accounted for?”
“Yes, Ma’am, everything is locked down for departure.”
“Break orbit, Ms. Hughes, spin up the drives, the Nix has won here.”
“Course, Captain?”
“Plot a jump to Rub' al Khali.” She tapped on her PDA and signed when she saw that the fresh batch of Customs in the cryo-bay. They had never been deployed per her judgment of not sending more lives into a lost battle on the moon.
“The Nix are hitting us hard there, so have bio-med adjust the cryo Customs’ genes for desert warfare.” The Captain ordered to Ms. Hughes.
“Sir!” The Captain starred at the lust jungle green covering the small world, and their retreat from another battlefield, as the Bashar broke orbit. She was all too aware that this could not continue, losing planet after planet to them. Soon, her side needed a victory.
Maybe at Rub’ al Khali will be a victory…she thought as the massive warship leaped away.
Who the hell was this?!
Pounding on the small pothole was a blooded fist, and Jamie shot back with weapon trained on the pothole.
“PLEASE LET ME IN! FOR GOD’S SAKE, PLEASE!” That sobered her right up, with one hand on her weapon, she keyed opened the hatch. The wounded soldier fell into the airlock, flipped around and sprayed the Nix that chased him. Before he could put one of them down, it sliced leg, cutting it into a jagged bloody spraying wound.
Jamie re-sealed the hatch, dragging the wounded Custom into the command room. He begged for his mother and morphine with howling screams that echoed throughout the empty room. Jamie injected the morphine, applied a pressure bandage on the spraying wound, and held the trooper.
She held him until he stopped screaming, until he stopped breathing…until he was cold.
Then the pounded started again. This time it was not a human fist that bashed on the airlock, and she knew it was just a matter of time now. Waves of deep sadness washed over her, for the Nix to be at the airlock, meant that every defense lines were crushed.
Then one thought bolted through her: I’m last Custom on the entire Honiara Moon and here is was the final ground,
With the last of the General’s Scotch, she honored the soldier under a sheet on the cold metal floor of this domed building. With the last drop of the harsh drink, the full weight of the situation fell on her. The Nix had taken Vickers, and the compounds robot cannons were dry, the shuttles were gone. The airlock doors were fortified with every goddamn piece of furniture in the dome. She prepared with every weapon locked and loaded around the room for the moment when they broke though.
It only took them an hour to punch through both doors. Jamie was ready with are automatic shotgun. When the door collapsed from the body slams of the Nix phalanx, Jamie fired, jammed up the door with bodies, trapping them inside the corridor. Dozens died before they could even enter the room.
She could not hold them off forever, and when they spread out, she tossed grenades, and laid down buckshot. Their death-wails indoors nearly shattered her helmet.
When one weapon was dry, she rushed to another stashed around the command center. Each time, Jamie was sure that the Nix would get her, and perform their horrific slice-and-dice.
When every weapon was depleted, she drew her last weapon, her trusty pistol, and unloaded on the nearest Nix.
But one outflanked her.
The claw swept up, tossing Jamie’s .410. It was gone. The creature followed it up by another claw sliced to the inside of her legs, sending her down. That was normally the end of a Custom trooper, but she fought back with a knife in one hand slashing in blind terror and the dead man trigger in the other. But another claw savagely diced her armor, and spilling out her large intestine into her hands.
Death was near.
“This is my world, asshole.” She pushed down the trigger.
The Bashar saw the nuclear mushroom cloud while waiting in low orbit. The Captain scrolled around her expansive bridge, looking at the banks of projected holo-screens.
“Report, Mr. Hikaru.”
“Total loss, Vickers is a smoking hole.”
“Any sign of survivors?” The Captain had once been a hot-stick dropship pilot; she had pulled many asses out of the fire. That made her always had concern over the Customs that were left in the field.
“Couple of fruit-flies are fighting in an outline jungle station.”
The Captain spun around and leveled a finger at the sensor officer. “Customs, Mr. Hikaru! Watch your tongue!” He looked down sheepishly.
“Sorry, Ma’am.” Hikaru was red from embarrassment.
“Have a couple of supply modules dropped.” She knew that it would not do much good, the fight was lost on the ground below, but she felt if anyone was left down there, than food, water, and bullets was the least she could do.
“Ms. Hughes,” Spoke the Captain with a grave voice while checking her watch. “All shuttle accounted for?”
“Yes, Ma’am, everything is locked down for departure.”
“Break orbit, Ms. Hughes, spin up the drives, the Nix has won here.”
“Course, Captain?”
“Plot a jump to Rub' al Khali.” She tapped on her PDA and signed when she saw that the fresh batch of Customs in the cryo-bay. They had never been deployed per her judgment of not sending more lives into a lost battle on the moon.
“The Nix are hitting us hard there, so have bio-med adjust the cryo Customs’ genes for desert warfare.” The Captain ordered to Ms. Hughes.
“Sir!” The Captain starred at the lust jungle green covering the small world, and their retreat from another battlefield, as the Bashar broke orbit. She was all too aware that this could not continue, losing planet after planet to them. Soon, her side needed a victory.
Maybe at Rub’ al Khali will be a victory…she thought as the massive warship leaped away.