Fallen Heroes.
Chap17: Fallen Heroes.
A full day had passed after the terror attacks in South America, Las Vegas and Hong Kong. Thousands were dead, but thanks to the efforts of X-com and local forces around the world, those numbers were still far below the millions that initial predictions had dictated would occur. The world was now abuzz with news of a new international agency dealing with the alien threat. President Huerta , the first Hispanic president of the United States, and first member of the independent party in many years, praised X-com on their ‘first’ mission and assured the public that the organization would have the full support of the United States and her allies.
“Many people owe their lives to not only our own soldiers, but to X-com,” President Huerta said as his image was broadcast nation-wide. In his mind remembering all those months ago when he had signed the documents allowing for the operation and funding of X-com within the continental United States. How much he had argued in secret with both the Democratic and Republican parties in Congress, sleepless nights as he hoped he was doing the right thing as he made under the table deals with both. He could only pray that X-com would continue to succeed, or at least develop technology to help in the defence of earth.
“And so, later today I will be formally requesting Congress to provide more funding to defend against alien incursion. I myself will be lowering my own salary to nothing. I will not receive even a single cent so long as I am in office and my planet is in danger. The money I am requesting from Congress will go to our own armed forces to defends us at home and for X-com to help them in their battle worldwide.” The American President finished up and was bombarded by questions from groups opposed, in favour, and everything in between his supporting of an outside military force working in the United States and wielding such advanced technology.
“Please, allow me to continue,” he said and cleared his throat once the reporters before him silenced themselves.
“I will also be deploying military teams to possible locations of alien incursion, to help maintain order in case of riots and to help defend against attack. There will be installed a curfew to several cities as well,” The President said, wishing he did not have to take these actions but knowing he had little to no choice. Already he could hear countless people calling him a fascist and a dictator for enacting such harsh measures to defend his homeland but he knew he needed to remain strong and firm in the face of this threat to do what needed to be done, even if his people grew to hate him for it. And while he had to answer questions there, another was being forced to answer for his choices elsewhere.
-Alien command ship. Dark side of the moon.
“Incompetent fool,” the master stated as he held Sectoid 742 in the air above him. The Sectoid commander’s large red cranium throbbed violently as he was strangled by the master. His throat showing visible signs of strangulation, as if a rope had been tied around his small neck, despite the master never laying a hand upon him.
“You requested a simple task and assured me you could do it.” The master all but spat as he stared at a holographic image of the Earth. Still controlled by the filth known as ‘Humans’. Oh how this species had plagued him so much. They were a true thorn in his side. Though not yet enough to elicit true action by the empire. They were currently expanding the empire elsewhere to other more valuable star systems and dealing with dissidents of conquered or surviving combatants from races they believed to have exterminated.
‘ If only my own masters did not need fresh genes and slaves with psionic potential. I would drop countless plagues and diseases upon this unworthy species and be done with the problem. Simply wipe them all from existence, every last human male, female and child. All dead by a push of a button. The universe would not care if another sentient race was exterminated, and it would further the Ethereal goals.’ The master thought in his mind, nearly shivering in pleasure at the thoughts. But he knew his ship and the others delivered by the supply ship did not carry any such weapons, and even then it would take time for the plagues to wipe the Earth clean of the verminous humans. And he would please the rulers of the empire much more if he conquered the world and presented them with the one thing they could not make themselves. Fresh psionic genes and slaves undamaged by years of cloning.
“M..master…not my….fault,” 742 gasped out through his mental link, struggling to tell the angered Ethereal that he was near death. 742 could feel a cold darkness over his mind, as his eyes began to lose the ability to see and the sensation of dying became somewhat welcoming, an escape from the pain he was currently undergoing, and as generous as a promise of closing one’s eyes for a moment after a long night of work.
742 had known that the terror attack in North America had failed but it wasn’t until he was on the ship that he realized all the assaults had failed and all of the Alpha insects sent to the planet killed. They now only had 20 of them in cold storage.
The master finally set 742 down, letting the Sectoid gasp and finally breathe through it’s nostrils.
“As much as it would delight me to snap your little neck, I am forced to require you.”
“Mas…ter?” 742 inquired between breaths and stopping to rub its neck, still feeling the sting of the Master’s grip.
“The nearest resupply port suffered an accident, we are on our own for several galactic cycles,” the master said, referring to the human equivalent of two years for each cycle.
“Get on a ship and head to the resupply ship. It will be aiding us with cloning for some time but requires fresh genes to make more clones. You are one of the purest Sectoid gene carriers available. Now go before my patience wears truly thin you sniveling worm.”
742 bowed his head and left the command room, leaving the master to plan the locations of his bases on the human planet, and a communications and cloning outpost on the fourth planet of this system. A bright, lifeless, red sphere of sand.
As 742 made his way down to the hangar, he could not help but keep staring at his claws. Deep within his mind, so deep that even the master could not hear, he fantasized about tearing the master Ethereal to bloody ragged shreds with the claws he had been born with.
It was just when he had taken a ship to the resupply vessel that the Sectoid Commander felt a presence in its mind, forcing it into a trance, and yet piloting its body as if it were nothing more than a puppet.
Discord smiled as he floated invisibly above 742 and with great effort piloted his next movements for several hours.
“Looks like I might have my Sectoid rebellion after all.” He said, his face betraying all of his evil intentions until he grabbed a napkin and wiped his face clean to keep his plans hidden.
-Crow’s nest. Cryo morgue.
All was quiet in the cryo morgue as all those who could be spared from their duties stood at attention and in silence before the two cryo tubes. The remains, that could be salvaged enough to be made somewhat presentable for the ceremony of Jeaver Savage. The tube of Ramos Miguel Gutiérrez remained empty due to there not being a body to recover. 10 of the remaining 15 base security officers were present for the funeral to honor one of their own. The security officers were the equivalent to Military Police and would only be used as combat personnel in an emergency or in the defence of a base in case of attack. Many engineers and support staff who’d had fun moments with either of the deceased and wanted to wish them goodbye.
Cotton stood with both cryo tubes behind him as he prepared to give a speech that he did not want. In his dress uniform and gray tinted beret, he was the perfect image of professionalism.
“Greetings to all. I know you are all expecting some pre written speech. But I don’t have one, and I now many of you hate those,” Cotton said as his eyes scanned the room, finding doctor Shen and Vahlen there, Central was up in the control room, still managing things.
Vahlen’s white science lab coat was nearly glowing in the blue lights of the cryo morgue, making her almost angelic to his eyes, but this wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
“Nothing I say will ever calm the aching pain of loss. Nothing any of us do will ever truly ease the pain of losing someone we know and love, especially so violently.”
He said and spotted Lewis, their second combat medic standing behind Derpy who was wiping her eyes as Rock Fist, the gray earth pony Sargent, hugged her, trying to hush her crying as gently as he could. He had been through this several times and knew what it was like to lose someone.
“But…but I was gonna let him try my new gummy bear muffins when he got back. He would have loved them,” Derpy sobbed into Rock’s shoulder, not being used to death since in Ponyville there hadn’t been one since her husband, Dinky’s father, passed away from an accident at his workplace.
“Shhhh, shhh, its okay, I am sure Ramos is with his god or goddess right now eating swarms and swarms of gummy bears,” Rock whispered to Derpy, but it was still rather audible.
‘I never knew Ramos liked those.’ Cotton thought, making himself feel somewhat worse.
“I know this is a short ceremony but maybe its best that way. We'll bring this ceremony to a close,” Cotton said, his mind heavy and his body aching. He had known so little about Ramos, not his wants, desires, family, pains, memories. And yet it still hurt to lose a trooper under his command.
‘I should have spent more time with my crew, not just wandering around and just watching.’
The ceremony came to a full close after someone brought in a bible, per standard procedure for Ramos as his religion had been noted as Roman Catholic. Jaever had been listed as Atheist and wanted nothing special for his funeral, just that his family not know if he suffered.
The rest of the day was a blur for many people, especially Boris who had not attended the funeral but instead had broken not one but two punching bags in the exercise room and had broken the skin on one of his fists from how hard he punched them. One support staff member name Drake had actually shared a rumor that when he was there Boris broke open the second punching bag with a single blow after fifteen minutes of continuous strikes, that Boris had shouted out “Stop Grinning!” before punching the bag so hard that it split open and the sand inside of it spilled all along the floor, with Boris dripping blood from his fist.
The base was in an odd state of depression, no one wanted to talk about the loss of two good friends. Most were either working or trying to distract themselves. With no one being allowed off base really it forced everyone to rely upon one another, becoming as tightly knit as people can be.
-Med bay.
Boris sat on one of the medical beds in the med-bay. It had been already an hour since the funeral, and Boris wanted to avoid everyone, he did not want to hear the constant apologies from everyone and well wishes. He just wanted to be alone.
The blond haired muscular Russian man was currently having one of his hands bandaged up after he broke the skin pretty well on a punching bag and yet he felt no better. He still felt a coiling serpent of rage in his stomach and a rope of guilt around his heart. When Boris was alone and not occupied, all he could think about was Ramos calling our his name as he was torn into pieces. And how he did nothing to save his friend.
“Now Boris, you will be fine but rest that hand for a little while. If there are any problems feel free to come back and let us know,” an assistant said to Boris as he hopped off of the bed. Seeing Chavivi, their former sniper, floating in a vita tank after the surgery he had undergone after field medics at the Las Vegas evac zone stabilized him. In the tank next to Chavivi was Jack who was recovering well from his leg injury while in another tank on the other side of the room was Sneaky, under the watchfull eye of Dr. M'butu to make sure he did not have any adverse effect to the vita tank.
Boris himself had been in the vita tank for only about half a day, his injuries were not as bad as they had appeared, his Nano fibers absorbing most, if not nearly all, of the heat from the plasma blasts that had managed to go through his alloy armor.
Boris noticed absentmindedly that the doctor was gone and stepped past empty beds and to the door, nearly bumping into Rock Fist who was coming to check on Sneaky.
“Sorry,” both of them said and passed by one another without another word, showing yet more of the sombre mood of the base.
-Lounge
A few personnel were in the lounge watching tv on the larger screen or having lunch or early dinner. Chelsea Mitchel was seated at a small table with her two wingmen.
“I still don’t understand how your arm got cut.” She asked as she reached a hand back to scratch her head, also making sure her red hair was still in a bun.
Lyons, the British pilot reached over to his left arm and began rubbing the gauze bandage around it. “Neither do I.” he said with curiosity as he ran the events in his mind.
“I only noticed it when I hit the ground, must have been a rock.”
Jones remained silent as he ate a doughnut and looked between the two as they spoke.
Chelsea crossed one of her legs as she began leaning back on her chair, balancing herself to keep from falling.
“So you think you can fly soon?” She asked while leaning around.
“Any day now just waiting for the skin to finish healing.”
“It looked a lot worse than it was.” Jones said as he finished eating and the three sat around talking till Jones went to check on the hangar bay while Lyons left to go to his room.
Chelsea remained in the longue as others began to leave, some mumbling about something or other as she watched the local news. Most of what was on television was propaganda footage of the marines taking out surviving aliens from the terror ship shot down and how they had captured a Thin-man but it was transported to the NORAD base for a more thorough interrogation.
“They get all the best stuff.” She sighed as the hours dragged on and she almost wished for another encounter. The lounge door opened with a hiss as the sound of hooves echoed off the walls with Trixie walking inside, her hair was a mess and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a while.
“Hey uhh….Trixie you okay?” Chelsea looked as she looked over her shoulder to the tired pony.
Trixie made some kind of noise before turning her head around in search for whoever had spoken to her. Chelsea had to stand up and make herself more visible to be noticed.
“ahh..oh you…uh that flying human.” Trixie said with a smile that made the bags under her eyes more noticeable, after the Skyranger returned from the mission Trixie went through her de-con shower silently and then just went to her room, not talking to anyone or coming out until now. When anyone knocked on her door she would shout out that she just wanted to be left alone.
“Yeah, the flying human.” Chelsea said, half worried the exhausted looking pony would hurt herself since she had seen some bad stuff on the last mission.
“Do you need help?” Chelsea asked, taking slow steps to Trixie.
“Help? Help!? The powerful help the great Trixie does not need from you!” She said, not making a lick of sense as she wobbled and pointed a hoof an inch to the right of Chelsea.
“Yeah, I beg to differ.” She said and kneeled down to be on the same level as the pony, like talking to a child.
“Look you are about to pass out on the floor, tell me what you want and I'll get it for you.”
“Trixie wants water, or milk.” She said before yawning and looking at the human, thinking to herself that she now understood why Sneaky seemed to have a crush on her, and that she really needed to sleep, but she was terrified of seeing the monsters in her dreams.
“Okay I'll grab you a bottle of milk but you need to sleep Trixie, this is not good for your brain.”
The tired pony seemed confused for a moment before registering what was said.
“But I love my brian, it is my favourite one!” Chelsea smiled to Trixie and pet her head before she stood up and went to one of the fridges for the general staff to use that contained food that did not need to be cooked or specially made. She grabbed one of the milk cartons and poured it into a plastic canteen that one simply pulled and drank from to keep Trixie from spilling it.
“it’s the great milk ready for Trixie?” the unicorn asked before nearly falling down when Chelsea reappeared.
“Yes it is but you need to be in bed for milk alright?” Chelsea asked while gently ushering the pony away, holding the milk in her free hand as they left the lounge, to almost bump into a member of the day crew who apologised first and walked into the lounge.
As Trixie and Chelsea walked over to the barracks Chelsea noticed a small box near a wall next to the entrance to the barracks, almost hidden behind a support beam.
“stay here Trixie.” Chelsea said and handed the pony her milk. Chelsea stepped away from the pony to find a small memorial to the two recently deceased. A photo of Ramos flexing his muscles was taped to the wall next to a photo of the face of Jaever, on a small box infront of the pictures were shot glasses and on the floor were candles.
“Rest in peace.” Chelsea said before returning to Trixie and finding her struggling to drink her milk without spilling it all over herself. With effort and the help of another staff member who happened to be passing by Trixie was eventually returned to her room, all of this reminding Chelsea of her own experience in dealing with a bratty sibling and making her want to send an Email when she returned to her room.
-Cotton’s personal quarters.
Commander Cotton paced around his room for the umpteenth time, unable to recall himself how many times he had walked around his room, from his bed to his bathroom to the front door to his work desk. Trying to think of what to say to the families of two brave heroes who fell in the defense of their world.
“Fuck,” was all cotton could say as he sat down in his bed, his head in his hands as he felt angry at himself. The nails of his hands scraping against his scalp hard enough to agitate his scalp but not hard enough to break it as he looked like a man who had awoken out of a bad dream.
“You are the one who wanted to be friends with them and this is what you get,” Cotton mumbled to the empty room.
“I never wanted to be commander, I can barely remember how I got here. Its all been luck up until now that more of my troopers haven’t been killed.” He then turned to the sunset behind him on the holographic window that cast his room in a light orange glow, his mood improving slightly as the eternal sunset was calming to him and pleasing to the eyes.
Before he could do anything there was a sensation that was almost not there, making Cotton wonder if he was feeling it at all as he rubbed the back of his head where he felt the sensation before there was a knock at his door.
“What?..I mean... Come in!” the commander corrected himself quickly as he reached a hand over and to a nearby wall and switching on the lights, causing his eyes a moment of pain as he was forced out of the darkness.
The door to his room slid open with a hiss as in stepped Dr. Shen, a neutral expression on his face as outside, hidden, Dr. Vahlen listened in since she did not have the courage, or the experience to talk the commander out of his funk.
Dr. Shen stood with one hand on the door frame so the sensors would not cause the door to close and Vahlen could listen in.
“Commander, I just came to tell you that engineering has finished maintenance on your armor and weapons. You should be all set for your next mission,” Shen said with the same voice as a grandfather telling his grandson he had fixed a broken toy.
Cotton looked to Shen and took a few steps towards him.
“Good, but we both know you could have sent me a message if that was all,” Cotton took one step forward and paused to wait for a response.
“Well, commander. I know this is a difficult time for you right now, a heavy loss after a string of good victories.”
The commander remained silent as Shen continued.
“It isn’t your fau-“
“Don’t,” Cotton interrupted as if he had heard it a thousand times despite it being the first time.
“First rule of leadership: everything is your fault. We both know this.” Cotton said, the emotions in his body language tensing up and showing anger and yet his face showing nothing.
“You know that isn’t true, Commander. You did what you could. Not even a single civilian casualty from your mission zone, rescuing a few off the path, and even and killing a lot of aliens, everything you did was excellent.” Shen said and stepped forward, stopping midway to keep the door from closing. Vahlen stood in the hallway, head low as she wished she could work up the courage to tell the Commander it wasn’t his fault and much of what Shen was saying. She stifled herself and simply waited for the conversation to continue.
“Dr. Shen. Please...” Cotton’s face calmed and much more relaxed. “I appreciate you coming to visit me, along with whoever is standing outside.”
Vahlen was left with her eyes wide as she wondered how he knew she was there.
“I understand, Commander, just take it easy for a while,” Shen said and stepped back out of the room.
Cotton listened as the door closed and there was hushed conversation outside. He returned to his desk and sat in front of a blank screen, taking a moment to grab his beret from atop and put it on a small rack for it above his bed.
The blank screen seemed to be taunting Cotton as he sat there silent and staring at it for an unknown amount of time until he sat up and put forth the same effort as he did when charging into enemy gunfire. He placed his hands upon the keyboard and simply began typing, and typing until time seemed to have passed him by. When he was done it was late into the evening. Most of the base would be asleep by then while the night crews would be running the important systems and keeping an eye out for alien incursions.With his attention broken a sense of exhaustion set over Cotton and his eyes suddenly fell closed and sleep almost overtook him like a tidal wave, but he forced his eyes open and stood up.
“No, I have to finish this,” Cotton said and rubbed his eyes, noticing the time, 2:38AM.
“Jesus, i’m going to need coffee,” Cotton said and quickly saved what he had on the computer and walked out of the room in search of caffeine, missing the memorial made to the fallen troopers since he was walking away from it as he exited the barracks.
-Lounge.
The lounge was fairly empty at this hour. The staff worked in alternating shifts to keep anyone from passing out from exhaustion, but a few liked to stay up past their shift. One such person was Jason Benet.
The young man sat on the couch in front of the big TV, sipping a soda as he watched some late night comedy shows.
Benet was a member of the satellite crew that worked near mission control, when his hands reached a keyboard they were simply a blur of motion punching code in at impressive speed.
Benet had originally wanted to be a soldier but he just wasn’t cut out for it. But he continually promised himself that he would prove his worth somehow, even if it was just punching code into the base computers and cleaning out viruses. Some guys got bored and downloaded stuff that would get them in trouble if Central Officer Bradford found out about it.
Benet laughed at his last thought since he was sure Central had almost caught him playing a game on his console when he was waiting for a reply from a satellite.
“He probably didn’t see me,” the boy said and stood up, his soda finished and went to throw it away and see if he could grab anything else. Tony tended to leave parts of the kitchen open for people who were still on duty at night, and anyone who needed something that wasn’t cooked.
Benet found it amazing how a single man could perform miracles and cook for a whole base breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but he guessed it was possibly because most of the food was pre-prepared and just frozen.
Benet paused after throwing his soda can away. Door opening behind him, he turned to see the Commander enter.
“Sir!” Benet said and stood at attention, accidentally slapping himself as he saluted.
‘Just my luck, I meet the Commander and make myself look like a dumbass,’he thought as he tried to look professional.
“At ease, kid. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now? I thought you were one of the day crews,” Cotton said, really just wanting the kid to leave so he could drink his coffee in peace. Even some instant coffee would be good at the moment.
“Yes sir, right away Commander,” Benet said and marched out of the lounge to head to his room.
“So cool,” Benet said and hopped up, pumping his hands in the air and hitting a light above him.
“Dammit how do I keep hurting myself?” he said and rubbed his hands as he made his way to the sleeping quarters. He shared a room with one of the medical staff, a German male nurse named Hans who always mumbled in his sleep and sometimes terrified his roommate.
When Benet was just about to make his way into his room the spotted a very unhappy Russian passing by. Benet stepped rapidly into his room and locked the door, not wanting to be anywhere near the angry soldier if the rumors about Boris were true.
“I'd rather be with Dr. Insano than that pissed off bear,” Benet said just as his roommate mumbled in his sleep.
“Nein..nein you have to remove the intestines first.”
“And I take those words back,” Benet said as he got into bed and put in some earplugs.
Meanwhile Boris was tired as hell and yet he had awoken from a nightmare with an odd desire to get something to eat. He had taken the long way around the base to get to the kitchen so that he would not bump into any more people, he just hoped that when he arrived at the lounge that no one else would be there.
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oh man this is getting better and better
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I am pleased you approve.
Every comment and thumbs up helps us continue our work.
hey doc do you happend to be related to that german nurse?
medias.gifboom.com/medias/t_79b53f0f13374e10a09b53571c7525f5.jpg
2928352 XD cudos to you sir. That made me laugh.
2928661 glad to hear.. now WRITE! WRITE LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT... oh wait it does...