The creature awoke again, except this time it was different. It knew it had a job to do, and it wanted to do it, although it did not know exactly what that job was. It watched as the fluid drained out of its see-through prison and the glass slid down into the base. It knew it had to run, but did not know where. So it ran. Into the dark forest night it flew on limbs of steel, its course set by some unseen force. It did a sliding stop, crouched, and practically flew up the tree in front of it, lashing into the bark with its flesh-rending talons. From there it jumped from tree to tree, making better headway against the forest than if on the ground. As it was gliding through the trees, it saw something in the sky, a big machine that was dropping down into a clearing. It knew, although it did not know how it knew, that it was the target. It pursued the thing with a burning vigor it had never felt before.
The dropship landed and the three men quickly moved down the ramp. They fanned out in the clearing, searching for any threats that the scanners may have missed. One of them radioed in. "This is Exterminator One. Area is clear. Go ahead and take off, Falcon."
"Gotcha, Exterminator One. See ya in three days! Estimated time until return: 78 hours. Good luck! Falcon out."
"You heard the man! We got three days to get in, deliver the 'package' and get back here for pick-up! Now, the objective is due east of here, so-" the man was cut short by a horrible screech from the trees ahead. "We got company!" The three men raised their pulse rifles, ready to take on anything that was thrown their way. Suddenly, one of them went flying to the ground with a bodily thud. The other two men turned around just in time to see the shape looming above the fallen man. It was seven feet tall; skin as black as the darkest night; long, curved head full of wickedly sharp teeth; claws that could rip through steel; and one bad disposition. Before the two men could aim their weapons, the creature's long tail had jabbed into the fallen man, skewering him. It raised its ugly head, and was promptly blown away by Teflon-coated depleted uranium slugs. Another quickly jumped up from the side and it too was decimated.
"Falcon! Lower the ramp! We need evac, now!" the man screamed. He turned to see the ramp start lowering, and he started making a mad dash for it. He stopped suddenly, however, when he saw one of the nightmare creatures climb into the ship through the slowly opening ramp. A few moments later, he heard the screams of dying men over his radio. "We're screwed," he whispered to himself, "we're gonna die on this planet, and nobody's gonna know except the people who will cover it up!" He turned around and saw five of the things crouching over the still-warm body of the second of his team to die. The man hadn't even had time to scream. Screw this, he thought, if I'm going down, I'm at least taking some of them with me! He fired into the pack of creatures standing over his comrade's body, shredding them in seconds. He started running for the still-open hatch, thinking of the self-destruct code.
He stopped short once again, as he realized that not only was the first thing still aboard, but more and more were climbing through the hatch. Okay, he thought, plan B! He started running away from the ship, checking how many grenades were in his launcher. He swung his pulse rifle around, took careful aim at the missile launchers and open hatch, and fired three grenades. One sailed through the open hatch, completely destroying the interior of the ship; the second was too low and exploded almost harmlessly on the hull; the third, however, was on target and crashed right into the MRLS (Multi-Rocket Launching System), and the resulting bang from the grenade and on-ship artillery was tremendous enough to totally devastate the ship. Pieces of the Falcon flew around him, shrapnel tearing through the bugs that had gotten too close to the now-smoldering Goliath. All but two of the creatures were killed, and they were quickly retreating. Odd behavior, seeing as how they feared nothing. He barely had time to wonder why they were running when a secondary explosion sent more of the ship hurtling outwards, a piece of metal slamming into his helmet. He suddenly felt very tired and decided right then and there that he was going to take a little nap. His vision spun into darkness. Shipley was getting comfortable again, sitting in his room and watching a holovid about the great wars of the twentieth century. He sighed and got up, turning off the holovid as he did. They had arrived in the complex yesterday, and had had no problems since. He had laundry to do; he only had two pairs of socks, the pair he had on, and the pair in his pack, and both were constantly dirty. The last time he had washed them was when he had run through a puddle that left them looking dirtier when they came out than they had going in. He started his walk to the laundry room, noticing how peaceful it was, considering the circumstances. Usually, a colony or complex under attack by the bugs was a hard thing to keep control over. This place, it seemed, was carrying on as if nothing were happening out of the usual. On his way down the hall, he noticed a man walking toward him. "Great," he mumbled to no one in particular, "another annoyance. Probably wants to know all about the USCMC. Either that, or thinks he knows it all…"
"Lieutenant Shipley! I'm glad I found you. I've wanted to ask you a few questions about your plan of action for this mission for a while now. My name is Marshall Plutonium, head science officer here at the complex."
"'Plutonium'? That's a pretty weird name." He was right about the annoying question. Although it was a better question than most asked, he had heard it a million times before.
"Yes, I get that a lot. Was teased a lot as a child, the other kids would say 'Don't get too close! He may reach critical mass!' Very annoying really. But enough of that; tell me about your plan. I want to know all the details!"
"Why?"
"Well, I've always considered myself sort of an army buff, and I thought if anything like this ever happened again, maybe we could just do whatever we did the first time, and get the bugs."
"So you're the head science officer, huh? You're the head of this place? You're supposed to be the one with the plan. Personally, I haven't seen any signs whatsoever of Xenomorph activity, and if there isn't any soon, my boys and I are packing up and leaving."
"Actually, no, I'm not the head of operations here, and I don't see what the rush is about. Why are you being so hasty, Lieutenant?"
"You are supposed to have a bug problem. We are supposed to be the solution. However, I see no problem, therefor I see no reason for there to be a solution. We'll just call an 'all-clear' and head on to the next place that needs us. Have you thought of the fact yet that while you are keeping us here, there could be a colony out there that really needs us? And we wouldn't be able to help them, 'cause we're stuck down here, fighting ghosts! And if you're not the boss around here, who is the big cheese?" Shipley was said to have an addiction to cheese, and at the moment he was pretty hungry.
"Ki- uh, Carter. Austin Carter. Runs the whole place, pretty much. He's a really great guy. Really involved with what goes on here. You'll love him. That is if you can get fit in. He's very busy, you know how that is."
"Uh, yeah. If you'll excuse me, I've got some laundry to do." Shipley walked off, not giving the little man another thought. Later while doing his socks, along with his extremely dirty underwear, he started replaying the conversation in his head. If this Carter guy's so involved, why haven't any of us seen him, or even heard of him for that matter? Well, he was here on a bug hunt, so whoever was the big cheese didn't matter to him, he just cared whether or not the guy could supply them with enough information to get the job done and done right. Cheese. That's what I need right now. Some good Gouda ought to calm me down. Or, he thought, some nice Cheddar. He headed for what stood for the mess hall in this godforsaken place.
Plutonium turned on his com and radioed Kingpin. "Situation?" asked Kingpin.
"Shipley. He wants to know who's running the show, wants to meet them, and wants them to help come up with the battle plan."
"What does he know so far?"
"Nothing. He thinks your name is Austin Carter, thinks that the reason you haven't made an appearance is because you've been so busy, and thinks you're a really great guy. If you decide to meet him, I'd suggest the 'jovial' routine."
"Good job, Plutonium. I see a five hundred credit bonus this year! Come to my office, we'll discuss this afternoon's experiment."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Plutonium out!" He turned off his com and sighed. He hated this job.
"Hey Tybesh!" called Hobbs into his radio. "Anything interesting over there in the East Wing?"
"Oh yeah! I got this portable holovid, and I gotta tell ya: this girl is hot!" Azrael Tybesh was known for his entertainment habits. He was also the security guard on duty that night in the East Wing of the science complex on Larotte. He was the youngest on the security force for the complex, and could be the most obnoxious person there at times.
"Well, I'm off in twenty minutes, so I'm gonna head on over there, help you check everything. Might as well, nothing interesting going on over here…"
"Great, it'll be nice to have some company! You know how lonely I get sometimes." It was also a well-known fact that Azrael (or "Az" as his friends liked to call him) had, at one time, been suicidal. He had tried unsuccessfully on many occasions to hang himself in the bathroom stalls at various restaurants. "I'll rewind this holovid and you can watch it from the start. Very entertaining!" Five minutes later, Jacob Hobbs was sitting with Az discussing how they were gonna go bar-cruising after they got off work and pick up some chicks. Az had smuggled in a flask of whisky, and they were taking draws of it, laughing quietly, talking about the women on the holovid screen. A faint shimmer behind Hobbs reassured Az that the alcohol was going into effect. That's when Hobbs' chest exploded forward in a spray of warm blood.
"…ck up! We need back up! Man down! God, it just… it just came out of thin air and took him! Spear… shoved it right through his chest! East Wing, help! Help! God, I don't wanna die! Can't see em! Send…up!" Smith's radio chattered to life suddenly. The sound of running footsteps accompanied Az's high-pitched, terror-filled voice. He knew this wasn't a practical joke, he could tell. Az was in trouble, and from the sound of it, another man on the force was dead.
"All units! Relocate to the East Wing immediately! One man down, and Tybesh is in trouble!" Smith switched back to Az's frequency, and heard silence. "Tybesh! Az, do you read me? Back up is on its way! Stay put!"
"Oh, God, I don't wanna die! I'm not ready to die! Please… hurry!" Smith started racing for the East Wing, and, although they didn't know exactly where it had happened, they would have to find Azrael Tybesh and get some information out of him in order to deal with whatever had happened to the other man… the other man!
"All units, report in!" Smith yelled into his radio. Everyone except Tybesh and Jacob Hobbs sounded off, giving their name and position. So it had to be Hobbs. "Okay, people, we know who the dead man is, it's Hobbs. Now, we don't have much information on the situation, but what we do know is that it isn't good. I - oh, dear GOD!" Smith looked up at the seven-foot tall creature in front of him, as it became visible, then looked down at the spear protruding from his stomach. He fell to his knees, and saw out of the corner of his eye the blades unsheathe themselves from the thing's wrist. The blades swung towards his neck, and the last thing he saw was his headless body falling to the ground.
Dachande growled in pleasure as Guan Ki'cti-pa held up his trophy. The head of an ooman sentry dangled by its hair in the proud warrior's hand. His student had done well, moving in swiftly, silently, killing the first, then getting the one that talked loudly into some sort of communications device. The oomans obviously knew of the Hunters now, though maybe not as much as they would like to. The mission was a success so far. For the time being, they would fight a psychological war, picking off lone oomans that strayed too far out of a certain range. Then, when they had the oomans sufficiently fearful, going wild with speculation, they would launch their attack and show their prowess. They did not have any "warring" equipment, but he figured that their normal Hunting weapons would do just fine against the ugly ooman "threat", at least for the time being. Dachande had never hunted oomans before, but wanted to badly. Tales of their cleverness had grown throughout the universe. There were even records of lone humans killing yautja jehdin/jehdin before. The Leader snapped out of his daydream, calling out to Kwei-Thei-de. "How many of the filthy oomans are in their counsel hall?" They had also set up surveillance and monitoring equipment in order to more efficiently stalk their prey.
"Forty-seven. Fifteen armed. Do you think this an opportunity?"
"Oh yes. An opportunity not to be missed." Dachande told Setg'-in-Guan to ready his gear. He was going to accompany his Leader on this mission.
McFadder and Appelwick were standing amongst the crowd in the meeting hall. There had to be fifty people in there, including them. They were the only military personnel in the room; a few others were security, and everybody was panicked. Except, of course, McFadder and Appelwick, who'd had riot duty before and thought this an all too familiar scene. Some middle-aged balding guy in a lab coat was onstage trying to calm down the crowd. When finally they did agree to "pipe down and have a seat" as the man in the lab coat put it, he introduced himself as the Head Science officer, name of Plutonium. Great, Scott Appelwick thought, Shipley warned us about this guy. He glanced up, a habit he had picked up from being on so many bug-hunts, and thought he saw a faint cloud of dust come off of one of the rafters. Thinking it odd, he looked over at Thomas "Fader" McFadder. "Hey, Fader: check it out. Watch the rafters. Every once in a while, a puff of dust will rise. That's one weird climatizer fluke!" he said, pointing up. Fader looked up. Dr. Plutonium continued to ramble on about one of the security officers that had been attacked in the recently reported incident being hospitalized. Fader nudged Scott. "Hey man, you can even see the air ripple before the dust comes up. You're right. That is weird!" he whispered so softly it was almost inaudible. He began to have that weird feeling in his stomach again. That feeling that something was slightly out of place, not quite right. He watched as the ripple seemingly jumped from one rafter to the next, then suddenly realized what was happening. "Everybody DOWN!" he screamed without thinking. Most of the people jumped to the ground only after he raised his pulse rifle to point at the ceiling.
Then he paused. Three red dots suddenly appeared on his gun. A bright blue light flashed and his gun was knocked to the floor. His hand was burning and his arm was tingling. He saw the blue light flash again and his eyes traveled just fast enough to trail the energy bolt across the room to the stage. A gaping hole was now in place of where the center of Dr. Plutonium's chest should have been. Then, the blue light flashed again, taking out a security guard on the right side of the stage. Fader picked up his gun, happy that it was made of really heat-resistant plastic alloys that wouldn't burn his hands, and again raised it to the ceiling where Scott was now pointing his. They opened fire at the shimmer in the air, and shouted for anyone else with a gun to do the same. Whatever these things were, they were gonna take them down…
[I][II]
"...hunting season's over, and the hunters are going home."(Go Home)
