Infection: Conflict
This is just a story i'm writing, thought i'd post it on here. What do you guys think?
PROLOUGE
____________________________________ ____________________________
Planet Alveron
2/24/2552
7:30 PM
The night was silent, save for the sound of insects chirping. Right now, Alveron, the first planet conquered after the fall of Albatross, was calm. The craters that dotted the landscape were like ugly scars that were earned from a battle long ago. The planet itself was empty-looking, with most of the leftover landscape with no inhabitants, except for the deadly Hellhounds, which stalked the surface, making a meager living off of worms and the occasional small animal. They were vaguely dog-like, except for the razor-sharp tentacles that were on their backs. They had red skin, and their tentacles were dark gray. The only way it was habitable for normal people were the eco-bubbles, which provided livable conditions for the people inside of it. The last person outside of the bubble had survived for 2 days before his body finally gave out to the harsh elements. The next day the bubble had been made bullet proof and puncture-resistant, to keep from a similar accident from occurring.
Alveron, the dreaded prison-world of the Armers that held only the most ruthless and deadly of human warriors, was about to have its calm shattered by one lone man. This particular prison, in sector 1615OPY31, was fortified heavily. Guards stood on the towers with high-powered rifles and wearing armor that was only used for the heavy-infantry troops in war, meaning that they were virtually immune to small-arms fire. The towers in each corner were made of starship-rated metals, with turrets mounted on the top of them. Needless to say, this prison was all but impenetrable to the average army. However, this man was not what most would consider ‘average’.
Suddenly, the sound of bending metal was heard throughout the courtyard, instantly putting all the guards on high alert. It seemed like nothing had happened, since no lights went out, no one collapsed, and, in fact, there was nothing to indicate that anything was wrong. This did nothing to soothe the guards, however. They stood stock still, with rifles ready. Their paranoia was rewarded, when the lights suddenly did go out.
Tiny beams of light flashed on as the guards activated their laser-pointers mounted to their guns. They punctured the darkness, but nothing revealed itself other then the dark, unforgiving wall. After briefly checking the wall, the guards activated the infrared setting for their helmets and turned their attention to the courtyard. Suddenly a harsh but calm voice penetrated the darkness and echoed around the prison.
“ATTENTION: DETAINEE FROM SOLITARY CELL 072 HAS ESCAPED AND IS ATTEMPING A BREAKOUT. ALL AVALIABLE GUARDS REPORT TO COURTYARD 14A AND SEARCH THE SURROUNDING AREAS. TECHNICIANS, REROUTE POWER FROM SECONDARY SYSTEMS TO BACK-UP FLOODLIGHTS AND FORCEFIELDS. SECURE BATTLEMENTS WITH SECONDARY TURRETS. ALSO, ACTIVATE SLEEPER/TRACERS IN ALL PRISONERS. GUARDS, TERMINATE DETAINEE IF SPOTTED.”
The alarms started to sound, and lights flashed on, probing the ground for anything that was hidden. Technicians desperately tried to follow orders, succeeding in all of them but one. For some reason, the sleeper/tracer in the detainee from cell 072 was not functioning. That would only be possible if they were not in his body, since only a body powered the sleeper/tracers. Also, an attempt to take them out would result in a shock to the nervous system, knocking out the average prisoner. Meanwhile, in the courtyard, guards rushed in, ready for anything. A dark shadow on the ground leapt out of another shadow and tackled a guard. Instantly, all the other guards fired towards the assailant. The lights of the blasts briefly lit up the face of Detainee 072. It was a hard face, toughened by years of combat. This face had studied the prison for 4 long years, waiting for his chance to escape. The bullets harmlessly hit a wall as the face dodged with incredible quickness. The face shot the fallen guard once with it’s own weapon at close enough range to penetrate the armor.
Detainee 072 melted into the shadows, the fallen guard’s weapon in his hands. Warily, one guard who stood on the battlements, known by the classification of Guard 154, with his weapon ready, peered at the corner 072 had just disappeared into. Suddenly, a burst of red light exploded out of the corner, hitting him in the torso, with enough force to push him backwards until he fell off the outside edge of the battlement, screaming horribly until he landed a direct hit on the force field concealed right at the edge of the prison, hanging sideways on the wall. What was left of the guard after passing through a vaporizer shield hit the ground. Eagerly, the Hellhounds tore into their first fresh meal in a month. That’s when the lights finally focused completely on the courtyard. Nothing was there anymore, not even a body. All that showed that their had been a struggle was a single pool of blue blood. But, the battlements of the prison were now pitch-black, save for the soft glow of the force fields and the lights inside the towers.
Automatically, the turrets finally activated, scanning the prison, looking for a target in vain, then they shut down again as the secondary power systems strained to provide power for both them and the lights, but failed. Technicians hurried to find a separate power source, but they already knew the action would probably be over by the time they found one. The spare technicians also hastened to put the lights on the battlements again. Screams were heard from the walls, along with the sound of shots being fired. When the lights reached the wall tops, bodies were sprawled in all conceivable manners of death. Detainee 072 was seen standing in the center of them, with a rifle in one hand and sword, which had been confiscated when he first arrived. His long, greasy, hair was streaming in the wind; the dark color perfectly blending into the black prison suit. The suit was torn in many places, revealing skin curiously as black as night. In one area, in the right hand area, the skin had a faint aura that seemed almost fiery. In another, a bloody hole was in one of the tears, which explained why the sleeper/tracer was not working. Obviously, he was not an ‘average’ soldier.
All the surviving Armers looked at the man in amazement, wondering how one lone human could have done all of the damage before their eyes. They finally snapped out of it, raised their guns, and fired simultaneously. Not one of the shots hit the target, but the guards did not notice this, since they were too busy dashing towards the detainee as he ran towards the walls, leaving charred holes in the ground behind him. Had they checked the closest body, they would have found it’s grappling gun gone. Detainee 072 stopped at the edge of the wall and turned toward the guards, with his back to the edge, looking at the guards. They were roughly humanoid, only due to the fact that they had two arms and legs, and a head. They also had dark skin where it was showing beneath the armor, with small spikes that dotted their bodies. Their faces were hidden behind heavy helmets, adding to their alien appearance. Just as Detainee 072 was done looking them over, the voice from before sounded again, this time panicky instead of the usual calm.
“ALL GUARDS REPORT TO THE OUTSIDE BATTLEMENTS THIS INSTANT! DETANIEE 072 IS NOT TO ESCAPE, I REPEAT, HE IS NOT TO ESCAPE! IF HE DOES, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU’LL GET ON THE FRONT LINE, FIGHTING THOSE ALIENS!” Detainee 072 smirked and waved in the general direction of the control center where the voice had come from, saying two words.
“You’ve failed.” Additional Guards ran onto the walls trying desperately to capture the detainee, but it was to late. 072 jumped backwards with his dark hair flying upwards as he fell, just missing the vaporizing shield and shooting out the grappling gun in the air. It hissed upwards and snagged onto the top of the wall. The remaining guards kicked off the hook, but 072 had already hit the ground and took off. Instantly, the vehicles that had been specially designed for pursuit and had been on standby, shot out of the garages below the walls and rocketed after the detainee. They were long and narrow, with a purple paint-job, and one wheel on the end and front, looking comically like a too-long bicycle, with an Armer stationed on each end. 072 was about to laugh at the vehicles when a panel in the middle of them opened up, revealing a pair of chain guns with auto-targeting. Laughter died in the detainee’s throat and he put on a burst of speed as the guns were fired, kicking up a plume of dirt in front and behind him.
The turrets on the towers, by this time, had finally regained power and fired, shooting their own rounds after 072. He ran like lightning, nimbly dodging the projectiles with almost superhuman speed, despite their being so many of them chasing him they were like a deadly cloud. He dived into a hidden foxhole that he had discovered just before he was convicted to life in the prison. The bursts that had been chasing him chewed up the dirt around the hole, just as they slammed into it. The vehicles finally caught up with him and fired their turrets point-blank into the hole. Detainee 072 looked back angrily as the earth behind him collapsed, protecting him from further rounds. The drivers of the vehicles cursed and radioed their failure to the prison, knowing they would be severely punished for the mistake.
Inside the foxhole, as he began the long and tedious process of collapsing the tunnel behind him, Detainee 072, also known as Zander Reeve, one of the most feared fighters in the Armer-Human war, breathed a sigh of relief. He was free now, at least as free as you can be trapped underground on an Armer world.
* * *
In the adjacent hill to the foxhole, a scout drone reported back to the ground-to-space data sender concealed in a grassy hill. As soon as the drone confirmed the data was sent to it’s master, it self-destructed with a single flash and a muted explosion, making sure the only copy was at the ship it had just sent it to. As soon as the copy was uploaded, the g-t-s sender self-destructed as well, destroying the record. In days, the Hellhounds would have eaten the remains and digested them, resulting in a completely clean environment, with no possibility of discovery.
High in the atmosphere, a single cloaked starship orbited the planet, and on it, a servant approached his master, eager to give him the good news. He knelt before a chair that was thrown in shadow, making the man sitting in it unable to be seen.
“Lord Daetrix.” The man said.
“Yes?”
“We received a transmission from one of our g-t-s senders.”
“From Alveron?” Daetrix asked.
“Yes, my lord.” The man said eagerly. Daetrix smirked through the shadow, and shot the man in the head. As blood pooled around the body, he rose from his chair, and casually kicked it towards the door guards. The rouge general then spoke.
“Guards, feed the former Captain Jenefal to my pets. It should give them the energy for a hunt.” Daetrix said. He smirked, and basked in his victory, knowing that his plan was proceeding perfectly, and soon he would be able to perfect and release his secret weapon, what he called ‘Infection Forms’ against the galaxy.
|
