The New Front

zooby · August 2003

<div class="IPBDescription">FFF (First FanFic, lol at the anagram)</div> I'm a recent new comer to this forum.

Had an idea for a fic, so here is the first installment. Please do not bite me, but slapping is tolerated to an extent. Criticism always welcome. Enough Talk, here's the fic.

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“Commander to all marines in the proximity. Get your **** back here on the double. I repeat, get your **** back here now! We have multiple alphas converging on base!” Commander Rankin slammed his mic back onto the console, dropped a shotgun nearby and logged out. He ran over to grab the weapon, but stopped dead in his tracks. Three bluish skinned aliens and two reddish skinned one were already standing in the base. One was holding the recently dropped shotgun and was pointing it at Commander Rankin.

“What the hell are you?” He picked at his built-in communications device. “All personnel, get back—” The order was cut short by a shotgun blast.

The fated marines looked at each other and hurried back to base. Four of them took cover behind a pillar while the others rushed forward into the room. The aliens were holding some sort of projectile weaponry, which cut down the first marines before they had a chance to react.

“Aw hell, what are those? Some new form of theirs or something? Get cover!” shouted one of the marines before a bullet from the alien guns struck him in the neck. The remaining marines shot back, but the situation was hopeless. Bullets glanced harmlessly off their armor, doing no damage. As the battle closed to a finish, one of the aliens leapt forward and slashed the marines behind the pillar with its extendable claws.

The last remaining marine cowered against the wall. Dropping his weapon, he rose his arm and babbled “Don’t hurt me. Please don't hurt me.” The alien let down his arm and looked at him with what seemed to be disdain. A single thought entered the marine’s head. Stay away from here.

***

Sender: LTC Timothy Chan
Subject: New Alien Lifeform
Destination: TSA High Command.

[Begin Transmission]
Sirs and Madams of the Trans-System Authority, in a recent campaign at Yarmut Station by one of my platoons, a group of unidentified aliens appeared and proceeded to slaughter the soldiers. They somehow bypassed all automated defense systems and were able to kill the commander before the soldiers made it back to base. Upon returning, the marines were all killed save one.

Private Kevin Kingsbury reported that there were five aliens in total, three blue-skinned and two red-skinned. Conventional weaponry was ineffective against this new threat, and the marines were unable to inflict any casualties. Private Kingsbury further reported that these aliens were humanoid in shape, yet possessed claws at the back of their hands, elbows and knees. The claws are extendable and well suited to melee combat.

Most disturbing is the new life form’s ability to manipulate objects as humans. Up to this point, no alien has been able to pick up or use TSA equipment. However, these new type of alien carried projectile weaponry very similar to our own. Upon further examination and backtracking of recent TSA defeats, I have noticed that at a number of locations, the dead marines had similar wounds to those who died at Yarmut. Furthermore, in these cases, there were an appalling number of documented friendly fire incidents. My conclusion is that these battles had similar conclusions, with the friendly fire being none other than the weaponry of this new alien life form.

It is believed at this time that these new aliens are the newest addition to Kharaa evolution, possibly influenced by human anatomy. For this reason, I have given myself the liberty of nicknaming these aliens “Mimics.”

According to Private Kingsbury, one of the Mimics approached him with the intent of killing him, but instead spared his life, which is the only reason he is still alive today, to our great fortune. Kingsbury says that the Mimic telepathically communicated to him, giving him a simple warning, “Stay away from here,” before leaving. It is theorized that telepathy is the process of communication for the Kharaa, as they appear to have no telligible vocal patterns. Most puzzling to note is that when the backup team arrived, they found Yarmut completely devoid of any Kharaa presence, including the bacteria growth that is always present on any infested location.

Thank you for your time to oversee this issue of most pressing concern. It would be in the interests of the TSA to reform standard protocol and strategy to accomodate for this new threat. I will keep you up to date should any new information be discovered.

Lieutenant Colonel Timothy Chan Reporting
[End Transmission]
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That's it folks. Hope you enjoy <img src='http://www.natural-selection.org/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'>

zooby · August 2003

Um...could I get some feedback? Do you like? hate? etc?

Anyway, that was the prologue.

Here, the story begins. (i hope it don't get too long cuz I got school. <img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/mad.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='mad.gif'> )

Again, feedback is always required.
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Chapter 1

Private Mike Ruffo groggily climbed out of bed. Just back from a successful campaign, he needed rest?lots of it. It would be at least two days before his platoon got another assignment, and he wanted to make the best of the time. Turning around, he said, ?Hey, Gingo, you wanna go to mess and get some chug?? The emptiness of the bunk next to him was the only answer he got. ?S---.?

?Squad 1, Fall back, fall back!? Commander Truffs ordered his men. ?I?m picking up about two or three Oni headed your way. Get out of there!? Mike glanced up at his HUD and saw a red blip appear on the map. It was in the shape of the feared Onos. Looking to the left, he saw Gingo ready his shotgun and begin to run in the other direction. Two other cherries Mike didn?t recognize followed Gingo. Mike turned around and saw three of his fellow marines backing up while doing their best to discourage the Onos from advancing?with a endless hail of bullets. He decided to turn tail and run after his friend. There must have been a cloaked Onos waiting, because it materialized out from no where and chomped down on Gingo. ?NOOOO!!!? The two cherries screamed in fear at seeing a comrade eaten and began to shoot wildly at the second advancing Onos. It began its charge at the cherries, who turned and ran, only to see the first Onos emerge victorious. The intercom interrupted Mike?s stream of consciousness. ?This is Squad 2. Third Hive dead and down. Entire ship secured, Truffs.?
?Roger Squad 2. Get ready to move out.?

The commander was going to leave them. Squad 1 provided a diversion, while Squad 2 could destroy the last hive. Squad 1 wasn?t expected to survive. That bas---d, thought Mike. He screamed into the mic, ?Commander, what about us??

?Support is on the way, hold tight.?

?Commander, I have two Onos surrounding me. How the hell do you expect me to hold tight??

?Trust me, Mike, trust me.?

?Why the hell should I trust you, new guy? You just got my best friend killed!?

A roar distracted Mike, glancing over, he saw one of the Onos toss the dead body of one of the cherries. It looked at him and seemed to smile. Backing up a little, it began its charge. ?Construct building at way point,? ordered the ship-wide announcement system. What? thought Mike. The charging Onos met the dropped building and was stopped. The telltale sound of multiple buildings phasing in filled the air, and Mike knew what the Truffs was doing. Both Oni crashed into the buildings, but that didn?t stop them. The Oni continued sliding forward. Mike crouched down and waited for the screeching buildings to stop. At this rate, the heaps of scrap metal would sandwich him to death. He closed his eyes and a protruding piece of metal slammed into his temple, knocking Mike out. Then he woke up in his bunk.

?Oh,? said Mike to himself, as his recollection of yesterday?s events began to be clearer. He ran out of his room into the hall and began screaming, ?Where is he? Where is that damn Truffs? I?m gonna kill the son of a?? He stormed down the corridor to Truffs quarters and began banging on the door. ?You coward! Get out of there now, I?m gonna mangle you so good you gonna wish you were never born. Truffs! Come out here and face me like a man.?

Commander Truffs came opened the door. ?Soldier, what is your major malfunc?? He was met with a solid right hook before the sentence was finished.

Waken by the racket, the other platoon mates came out of their bunks. Running to Mike, they grabbed his arms and pulled back away from Truffs, who was painfully rubbing his jaw. They did their best to restrain him.

Truffs looked at the struggling man. ?Private Mike Ruffo, I did what I had to do. My objective was to clear that ship of infestation with minimal casualties to friendly units. I have succeeded in that. I made the decisions I had to based on the information I had at the time. Do you understand me? I?m sorry your friend had to die. You?re one of the TSA's best soldiers. I would never knowingly send you into a??

?Bulls---? You knew it! You knew that if we went in that way, we?d have been killed. You did it on purpose! You wanted us to die! How do you expect me to f---ing react??

?Calm down, man, calm down.? ?It?s ok, dude. Lots of good guys died yesterday. I feel you.? ?Come on Mike, Truffs has his s--- together. He knows what he?s doing.? Mike?s fellow soldiers tried to explain the righteousness of Truffs? actions, but for Mike, there was no convincing.

?Let go of me, you snakes. So you?re all with him? Next time you?re under this inexperienced 'eisskoff, remember that he?s so out of it he'll throw your life away just like that.? Mike snapped his fingers to illustrate. He stomped away, leaving the rest of the platoon to stare at his back.
----------------------------------------------------
N.B. cherry--lingo for noob soldier
'eisskoff--degeneration of schei?kopf, which is german for s--- head.
Since this forum automatically masks swears, I am dashing out everything except the first letter of all swears to improve readibility, hopefully.

nooby · August 2003

Good work, keep going.

zooby · September 2003

I will be moving this forward even if you don't want me to, or if you're not ready to.
Double update! (yay! i think...)
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Chapter 2
Mike somehow made his way into the mess hall. He walked up to one of the servers and demanded food.

“I’ll have a 12-pack of Sunbeam with that, too.”

“Sir, you know that hard alcohol is not allowed to be drunk by Frontiersman.”

“Don’t give me any of your crap. I know you got some behind the counter. Now fork it over.”

Mike took his food and brought it back to one of the empty tables. Half of the mess hall was full of newbs, cherries, and other inexperienced virgins who needed to be screwed. He could tell, they were all too talkative, too apt to burst into laughter and mirth. The other half of the mess hall was filled with people like him. Most of the soldiers on this side were sitting solitarily. Those who were sitting together sat quietly, ate quietly, and left quietly.

One of the kids from the other half of the hall got up from her table and began walking to where Mike sullenly sat.

“Sir, are you Private Mike Ruffo, sir?” (seniority among enlisted soldiers was based on experience, not necessarily rank.)

Mike looked up at the girl, a big smile plastered over her face. “Yes. You are…”

“I’m Private Sandra Gingo, sir. My friends call me Sandy. My brother always talked about you in his letters. It’s a great honor to meet you, sir.” She stuck her hand out.

Mike stared at the hand for a few moments before dropping his fork and grasping it. “What can I do for you, private?”

“Well, sir, since you and my brother were such good friends, I was wondering where he is so I could talk to him. I mean, from what he said, it sounded like the two of you were inseparable.”

“But I’m not ready to die yet.” The sentence scratched its way out of his throat, it was barely audible.

“What was that, sir?” The cherry still had a smile on her face. Any outsider would have wondered why she still was unfazed by Ruffo’s apparent rudeness. Sandra began absentmindedly playing with a long braid of hair that hung down past her shoulders.

Mike looked away and then took another swig of the Sunbeam. Then another. Then he saw three MPs talking to the servers, looking his way, and then coming toward him.

“I hate being the one to break it to you, but…” His voice trailed off. “You seem like a nice gal. I suggest you get as far away from his war as possible. Take a look around you. This is what you’ll become. The only alternative is death. You…” Mike’s voice trailed off again. He cleared his throat, looked up at Sandra, who was no longer smiling. “Your brother’s dead, Sandy. He ain’t coming back.”

The poor gal gasped sharply, took a step back and covered her mouth with her hands. “How…how did he die?”

“Like any marine. He went out fighting.” Mike stood up and walked toward the MPs.

“You’re here to take me away, I presume?”

“Private Mike Ruffo, for striking your fellow commander and encouraging dissension among the ranks, you are hereby to be arrested and detained under article seven fourteen, pending arbitration. You do understand?”

“Yes. If you could spare me a second…”

“Sure thing, private.” Apparently the MP was in good moods—not many of the soldiers he arrested gave up without a struggle.

“Hey, Sandy, I got to go now. I’ll come check up on you if I ever get the chance. Here, take this.” He took off a small orb around his neck. “It’s kept me safe for two years. Maybe it’ll do the same for you. I won’t be needing it where I’m going.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Hey soldier, look pretty. The aliens may not want to disfigure pretty faces.”

She smiled through her tears. “It was for my brother, wasn’t it? Is there a…a…”

“Body?” Mike looked down and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

Mike left her to the waiting MPs. He brought his hands up and the MPs cuffed him.

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Chapter 3 (One month later)

“Let’s see. Two purple hearts. A Distinguished Service Cross, a silver medal for good conduct. Mount Olympian with crossed thunder bolts for exemplary bravery on the Hera campaign. The list goes on and on. Tell me, Private Ruffo. How does a soldier like you end up in the brig, of all places in the universe? If anything, you’re up for commanding school. Hmm, no, you went there already. Graduated at the top of your class. So…why aren’t you a commander, Ruffo?”

“Personal reasons.”

“So let me get the facts straight. In your last battle, your commander sent you on a suicide mission where your best friend was killed. He did some strange things, and everyone in your squad died, except for you. However, he managed to save you by placing structures in the path of two charging Oni. You were knocked unconscious. The next day, you threw a tantrum at the commander, whence you said, and I quote, ‘Next time you’re under this inexperienced 'eisskoff, remember that he’s so out of it he'll throw your life away just like that.’ You said this why? Perhaps because underneath, you knew you could do a better job?
“If it’s any condolence, Your entire squad was just killed in their latest campaign. Apparently your commander short-circuited his brain, misjudged the Kharaa and underestimated the depth of the infestation. You, nonetheless, are a different story. However right you were, I can’t overlook the fact that you struck a commander. You encouraged dissension. This kind of conduct is inexcusable.
“Were the times different, private, you would have been hung for gross insubordination. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. At the beginning of this war, most of the Kharaa infestations were superficial, they were as well entrenched as they are now. If we were able to win—and we were, most of the time, we were left with an invaluable group of veterans. New recruits were assimilated into these veteran groups. It was better than sending in an entire platoon of cherries. We are winning this, despite what it may look like. We’re now in the heart of the Kharaa infestation. Unfortunately for us, it has made it all the more difficult to take ships back. Even our best veteran groups come back with half the men they left with, or they don’t come back at all.
“Coupled with the new discovery of the next stage of Kharaa evolution, the Mimic, we barely stand much of a chance in the worst infestation cases. Do you follow me, private?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Extraordinary times call for extraordinary men. Our men are not extraordinary enough. A prominent biologist Earthside recently discovered the secret to DNA coding. He was able to impart shark genes into a mouse, rendering that mouse insomniac without any adverse side effects. He then did it with turtle genes. The mouse doesn’t age, and won’t die from natural causes. Experimentation with other animals yielded similar effects. All that needs to be done now, is to test it. On humans.
“It seems you’ve volunteered for the job. Your friend, his name was Peter Gingo? He didn’t die, like you think he did. He managed to be revived, and he’s slated for this gene therapy. A month ago, five platoons of cherry soldiers were shipped in. The equivalent of one came back. In previous times, only half of a platoon would come back in. These are also slated for gene therapy. Do you understand me, Sergeant?”

“What?”

“That’s right, Sergeant Mike Ruffo. Since you seem to have an adverse attitude toward commanders, I thought it best to make you one. If you pass up on this opportunity, I will make it the goal of my life to see you are dishonorably discharged, returned to civilian life, and forced to wander the galaxy penniless, comradeless, and hopeless.”

“Brass.”

“Ah, but even the brass were once green. Don’t you recognize me at all, Sergeant? Timothy Chan. Poster boy for the Frontiersmen just as you were deciding to join up, I believe.”

“Wha—”

“That’s right, soldier. Adjutant! Bring this good man to the biolabs. He’s due for a medical checkup.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“And Ruffo? Don’t f--- up again. Also, if the brass above me decide to, I’ll be coming in with you guys. It seems that they don’t want my combat experience to go to waste.” Chan smiled at him and sat back down at his desk.
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post feedback, darnit!

Nidding · September 2003

Great Story!
I just finished reading it and I can't wait for the next chapter.

I can't put my finger on it but it somehow just seems "real" when you read it. It's beliveable.

keep up the good work. <img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'>

nooby · September 2003

I agree Nidding, zooby has to keep going, I like it.

zooby · September 2003

k, here it comes again.

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Chapter 4 (Zipping around on the space-time continuum [eeps])

Sandra slowly walked to where her brother’s quarter’s had been. Her goal was to find some more information on her brother’s death. HQ had been very sketchy on the details, but Sandy guessed that the people who were with Pete at his last moments would have more detailed information. The corridor was eerily silent, which wasn’t odd for veteran platoons. They stayed to themselves, slept to themselves, and talked over their experiences to themselves. She walked up to the door labeled “Commander.”

A brown-haired man opened the door. Brown hair wasn’t much of an identifier—natural blondes were one in a million. And that was only in Scandinavia-Nordic. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week, which was true. The eyes were bloodshot from staring at an LCD screen too long, a common symptom called skipper's madness. Along with this condition came the look that inhabitated their faces. It was a perpetual stare of hopelessness crossed with puppy eyes. This resulted from overthinking. A lot of cherries thought being commander was a laid back job since they didn’t need to fight. This was a false assumption.

Commanders were in a constant battle against themselves. Too many life and death decisions made on too short a notice. Too many opportunities that could have been the key to a quick victory, too many opportunities that could have led to a quick defeat. Too many people living, breathing, and thinking before being sliced into confetti. Too many people who were standing right next to you, only to disappear the instant you looked away.

Commander Truffs was brooding over what he had done. His squadmates told him he did the right thing, but behind his back they muttered about Ruffo and Gingo no longer being around. Ruffo and Gingo had been the best and most experienced soldiers on the team, and Truffs made both of them disappear. The squad held him responsible for that. Truffs knew he had done the right thing; he thought he had done the right thing, but the fact remained that six people were now dead and another was God knows where. Commander Truffs stared at the young woman standing in front of the door. “Jesus, they keep getting younger. You the replacements, private?”

“No sir. I’m Private Sandra Gingo. My brother Peter Gingo was on this platoon—”

“Oh. I'm sorry, he was a good soldier." The sentence came out rushed and apathetic. "Here’s the key to his room. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” The door slammed in Sandra’s face. She sullenly entered her brother's room and began leafing through the contents of her brother’s room. Nothing much except for a PDA. Sandra booted it up and searched through the contents. Diaries, pictures, porn. She sighed and placed it down, looking at the other half of the room. She considered looking through Mike's things, but decided against invading the privacy of someone she barely knew.

***

“Commander Truffs, we need some medpacks over here RIGHT NOW!!”
“I’m on it, soldier!” Truffs panned across the map. Three soldiers pinned down against the corner, a few offensive chambers blocking access. “Oooh-kay, look sharp.”

“Incoming projectile. Advise immediate evasion tatics. Incoming projectile,” blared the ship-wide announcement systems.
“Commander, what the hell is that?”

An explosion ripped through the ship and rocked it so violently that the ship tore in half. “S--- Commander, Racks just got pulled out into space! Pull the airlocks, pull the airlocks!”
The ship-wide communication system blared out. “Warning. Hull integrity breached. Hull integrity breached. Auto-airlocks initiating. Please step back. Recompressing atmosphere. 500 pascals...700 pascals...900 pascals. Full atmospheric pressure obtained. A distress signal has been sent. Please stay calm, and if accessible, make your way to the nearest escape pod. Have a nice day.”

Truffs stared in horror as half of the map blacked out, the half of the map where all his soldiers had been. No! he thought to himself. What is wrong with me? Always leave a few marines at base in the event of an emergency. Always leave a few marines. Damn damn damn! A few moments later the phase gate made sounds, signaling that something was coming through. Truffs logged out off the command chair, anticipating on welcoming the lucky marines. There was only two Mimics there to greet him. A single telepathic order pierced Truffs’ thoughts. Kill him The Mimic rose its weapon and shot Truffs in the head.

***

“Listen up, new recruits. Recently, one of our best platoons was ambushed and all its members were killed. We have reports that were emitted at the last moments before we lost all communication.” The smallish captain at the front of the briefing room addressed the five platoons assembled in front. “Here are the communications log moments captured.”

(Order) Squad 2 to Engine Room. Squad 2 proceed to Engine Room.
***Racks has taken damage, target(s) identified as offensive chamber(s)***
(Talk) Smith: “Commander Truffs, we need medpacks over here RIGHT NOW!!”
(Talk) Truffs: “I’m on it soldier. Ooooh-kay, look sharp.
***Medpack Dropped***
***Medpack Dropped***
***Medpack Dropped***
***External radar picking up on gaining projectile. Advise immediate route correction.***
(Talk) Racks: “Commander, what the hell is that?”
***Hull breach detected.***
(Talk) Smith: “S--- Commander, Racks just got pulled out into space! Pull the airlocks, pull the airlocks!”***
***Racks off line***
***Auto-airlocks initiating…***
***Distress signal sent***
***Smith off line***
***Sensors and Communication failing***
***Sensors and Communication off line***
***Squad 2 has lost contact***
***Squad 1 has lost contact***
***Squad 3 has lost contact***
***Phase Gate in use…possible hostiles incoming***
***Truffs off line***

“We have determined that some sort of weaponry was used in an attack against the OMC Barracuda. This weaponry split the ship in half, and this was responsible for the soldiers’ deaths. We received the distress signal half an hour since it was sent. Many of you have been wondering when you would get to fight. Now is your chance. Platoons 1003 and 1004 will secure both halves of the ship, Platoons 1005, 1006, and 1007 will stand by. The ship is to be combed for any Kharaa activity and any possible survivors. Your platoon leaders have further detail. Dismissed. Prep and get ready, you are expected in 0100 hours, at 0600.

Commander Zezekiel “Zeke” Rossia looked at his troops. “All right men. And women. As you know, we’ll be heading out on our first mission real soon. I’m nervous. You’re nervous. But as a drill sergeant said in a movie three hundred years ago, ‘Everything you learned here will keep you alive in war. If you die, then either I will have failed my job, or you are the dumbest f---er this world has ever seen.’ Stay calm and remember everything you have been taught. Any questions?”

One of the soldiers rose his hand and spoke out, “Hey, Zeke, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Zeke stared at the brash man. He looked down and then returned to stare at him. “Private Warren Mackenzie, the answer to that question is twenty-three fifty-four.”

Mackenzie opened his mouth. “Was it really that long ago?”

“Sure, private, if you think five hours ago is a long time. I'll be seeing you. And I hope to see you all again when this mission is over. Dismissed.”
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Geez, it's taking a while to get to the plot...=/
Yea, sorry for the lame joke at the end.

comments always welcome.

nooby · September 2003

Humours good, keep going.

Nidding · September 2003

keep it comning.

I like the idea with the mimics, kinda like aliens assasins.

looking forward to the next chapter.

zooby · September 2003

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>QUOTE (Nidding @ Sep 8 2003, 06:07 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'> I like the idea with the mimics, kinda like aliens assasins. </td></tr></table>
Ah, but if you only knew what they truly were.......BWHAHAHAHA

Also, i have been overwhelmed lately by enemies even the Kharaa would fear: teachers, and their indomitable group of evil minions better known as homework. And after I conquer this enemy, there will be those disgusting Ogres known as college applications...RR..so don't expect next update anytime soon.

nooby · September 2003

Real life does have a habit of getting in the way, but we have been known to be patient. We can wait, not too long though, lol <img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'>

zooby · September 2003

Just a little something for now...
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Five dropships lumbered slowly toward the derelict ship that had broken in half. A slag of ice drifted away, shattering upon the lead dropship without incident. The escort fighter wing did a preliminary sweeping, and finding no visible hostiles, gave the go-ahead for the dropships to latch on and shuttle the green troops in.

Commander Rossia was sitting in the cockpit with the pilot, waiting for the lead dropship to make its landing. The body of half a marine drifted through and slammed into the spaceshield. "What the hell?" yelled Rossia. The gruesome face of an unlucky marine made its way onto the spaceshield. The temporary warmth thawed part of his frozen face, but it was immediately fused back onto the shield. Rossia and the pilot sat there, facing a contorted look of pain and hopelessness. The radio cackled.

"Lieutenant Hunyrt reporting. We can see a couple of dead Kharaa floating through space. There's a few of ours, too. The Sci-fi will probably want these specimen. Can one of you dropships make your way over here? We need to pick up some bodies here."

"Roger, Lieutenant Hunyrt. There's one of ours stuck to our spaceshield. We'll dispatch a few free-floaters to pick ours up. Could I get a reading on the Kharaa you got there?"

"There's a couple of skulks, what looks like some sort of organic building and a fade."

"So we'll clear up the morgue and put these things in it? You hear that, all you marines? If you die by these Kharaa, you're gonna end up sleeping with them." The pilot chucked dryly and powered up his engines to where the fighter squadron was massed.

***
Onboard the derelict, a 10-man squad was making its way uneventfully toward the engine room. The point man stopped, and in the dim light, turned his flashlight on. He bent over and picked up a headless helmet. "What's this?"

"Idiot! turn your flashlight off! They gave us A-10 imaging goggles for a reason, you know. Oh, s---, watch out!" The slack man pointed his machine gun out at the lumbering shape that was coming toward them. He accidently pressed the trigger too early, cutting down his buddy. The lumbering shape of a heavy marine crashed into the point man. The body was limp. Bullet holes in the front and back were dripping in blood. "What did I do? Oh christ. Commander, I got--"

"Carry on with your objective. I'm sending a detail to pick up the bodies. There should be a hive up ahead."

"But Commander--"

"Shut up, soldier. Get your **** moving."

As the now 9-man squad continued toward the engine room, there was the distinct sound of gunfire. The squad began yelling and screaming and running toward where the gunfire was coming from. They turned the corner and saw three Mimics standing behind boxes shooting at an unseen enemy. One of them turned around and threw a ball at the dumbfounded marines. The ball disintegrated mid-air and turned into a wall of base, which engulfed the marines, burning through their armor, their skin, their flesh, and finally, their bones.
***
The commander dropped a shotgun outside. "Listen up group. We're gone. I'm putting in the word for immediate backup. Most likely when you get here I'll be dead, but...there's something out there. I don't know what it is, or what it does, but I'm going out there, and I'm gonna blow some of them up." The commander dropped a few more mines, logged out and collected his equipment.

A few minutes later, he rounded the corner and saw a Mimic standing in front of an Onos. The Onos tossed its head and snorted, as if offering a challenge. The Mimic seeming acquiesced, tossing its gun away and then taking a stance. Rearing up and charging, the Onos barraged forth, its horns lowered. The Mimic jumped up at the last possible millisecond and landed on its back, proceeding to tear the Onos using its claws. Frustrated and in pain, the Onos tried to toss the Mimic in an alien replication of bull-fighting. It backed up into an exposed circuitry panel, electrocuting the Mimic, and in the process, itself. The commander stared dumbfounded at the scene. He walked up to the mass of burning flesh, raised his shotgun, and blasted the things away. "Score one for humanity," he said. Those were his last words.

No. Score two for us.

The commander turned around to see two other Mimics raise their guns and shoot him.

The two Mimics shouldered their weapons and cautiously picked up their fallen comrade.

I just don't understand. We tell them to stay away. What's so hard to understand about staying away?

Obviously an inferior species that doesn't understand when it has lost.

What looked like a small computer beeped, and one of the Mimics picked it up from his waist.

They don't want us to kill them anymore. Ridiculous. How do they expect us to function if we can't kill these puny animals? They just keep getting in the way.

You do know, it's just us out here. No one else. Nobody has to know.

The Mimics found their fighter transport, and blasted their way out of the derelict ship.
***
"Ok, Rossia? Your platoon is supposed to go in now. Good luck, man." The pilot smiled as he slowly brought the dropship into sync with the derelict. "Remember, Rossia, no dying. I don't got room for your body."

Zeke ventured a smile. "I'll keep that in mind." He left the cockpit. "Alright men and ladies. Once we're set up, I want Sandra's group to do a comb through for friendly casualties. Mackenzie, make your way around and neutralize the enemy. Fuldo, take your men and set up shop wherever you can. Let's go!"
***
The Mimic ship blasted out from the derelict, seemingly to appear from nowhere.

They got their ships lying around, sitting ducks. Wanna get some target practice before we head back?

And then...

We'll just say their ships were determined to have been infested.
***
"Whoa, Hunyrt, did you see that?"

"Roger that. All squads report in, take evasive, and be on your alert."

The Mimic ship came out, rotated in all directions and proceeded to blast four dropships into dust.

"S---, go! After them! Don't let them get away!"

Three fighters circled out and came in from the left, another three came up from beneath, and Hunyrt led two others in a front attack. Mass drivers seemed to bounce right off the plating.

"Hunyrt, this is ridiculous! I've never seen anything like it!"

"Switch to lasers, men."

A laser beam lanced out from a fighter and struck shielding. The beam bounced into nothingness, and then it appeared that the shielding deformed, causing the beam to reflect back on itself. The fighter was destroyed.

"I don't believe what I'm seeing. How is this possible? All wings, retreat and make a claw formation. We'll concentrate fire on one spot and see if they can pull that trick again."

The TSA fighters swept out, made formation and closed in on the hostile ship. All eight remaining ships fired all their lasers at one concentrated part. The shielding once again deformed, proceeding to destroy the advancing fighters one by one. Lieutenant Hunyrt lost his starboard engine at the end and kamakazed into the Mimic ship.
------------------
wall of base? WTH? (as opposed to acid, folks)

nooby · September 2003

I enjoyed reading thanks.

Nidding · September 2003

this is getting more and more interesting and i stil don't have a clue what is going on, excellent story.

zooby · September 2003

things will get more clearer soon, i promise.

chapter 6 (back to the regularly scheduled program, where Ruffo meets his friend)
---------------------
The brightly lit hallways shine off the sterile hallways. Direction lights line the corridors, using the old system of keypad recogntion. Strange, thought Mike. They don't use that system anymore, it's all nano-directed. He looked at the adjutant who was leading him. There didn't seem to be any nanotech on him, but then again, it was close to impossible to know. "So, how long have you been here?"

The adjutant turned around. "We're almost at the biolabs now. If you'll come this way--" The adjutant's arm shot out and caught Mike on the neck. He fell to the floor. "Sorry about that, if you weren't knocked out, there'd be no way for you to undergo what's waiting for you." He pressed the button on the door, and two whitecoats came out, carrying a stretcher. They went back in with Mike on it.

Three days later.

Mike Ruffo woke up. The ceiling was white, the curtains were white, and the sheets were white. Fluorescent beams shot off, reflecting everywhere. Ruffo instinctively closed his eyes. "Where am I?"

A familiar sounding voice boomed out. "Where else, mate? You're on Earth. None other than that blue-green planet that spawned us all. I always wanted to come here, you know. I finally do, and they stick me in some building with no windows. I can't go out and visit the ruins, can't go out and look at the oceans that evolved us out. And most of all, can't' go out and live with the girls. What a horrible place. This building, I mean. Not Earth." Mike opened his eyes just in time to see a hand pull the curtains open.

"Holy F---ing S---. What a cure for sore eyes you are, Mike. What a cure. How the f--- is life?"

"Pete! S---, you're alive. Did you a see the pit of Onos stomach? What's it like? How long have you been here? What's happening?"

"Whoa--slow down there buddy! I know you're happy to see me and all, but tone it down a bit, eh? I've been locked up here for about two months. They're doing some kind of DNA replacement experiment, and we're the test subjects. I don't know what they're doing, biology was never my subject anyway. Oh yea--Onos. Don't remember too much about that, except watching this huge mouth move over my head."

"Did you meet the El-cee? Timothy Chan?"

"Yep. He was talking about something...fell asleep."

"Weird. I was talking to this adjutant guy and then I woke up here. I'm so confused."

"Well, you've been in here for three days. They didn't let me come see you until then. The DNA correction is going on right now. You can't feel it, but when it's done, you'll know."

"And you?"

"I'm a new man, Mike. A new man."

"Right. Everyone thinks you're dead, you know. I was martialed for 'conducting myself unbecoming a marine.' What a joke. That Truffs should have been executed on grounds of general incompetency."

"Granted. He died a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, so did our entire platoon. And a bunch of cherry squadrons, 1003, 1004, 1005, 1006 and 1007 died in the attempt to retake the ship. When another rescue team came, they found the entire Kharaa presence gone. There was no trace of any humans, save for a dropship with warm engines and a morgue full of frozen Kharaas, and deserted structures. Something's going on, Mike. And I have a feeling we're gonna be involved in it."

"Platoon 1007 did you say?"

"Yea, why?"

"Your sister's in that platoon."

"What? Oh my gosh. No, there must be some mistake! My sister can't be in the TSA. That's impossible. My parents would never let her do that! Oh my gosh. I gotta find some way to contact my parents. S---! There must be some mistake. Mike, you must be mistaken. No way Sandra could be in platoon 1007."

"Pete, I'm not lying. I saw her with my own eyes."

"I gotta get an uplink."

The hysteric fit walked away.

A few minutes later, a dishaven, sordid man walked by. A monotone voice broke the silence. "You must be Sergeant Mike Ruffo. I'm Kevin Kingsbury. I am currently a better soldier than you. I can kill faster, I can run faster, I can do everything faster than you. I will get my revenge." He walked out before Mike could respond.

A tiredness unknown to Mike overcame him. He slept.

Deep within his body, a small molecular machine found its way into a cell. It crept up to the nucleus and began to do its work, loosening up the membrane and inserting correctional DNA. Then it entered the nucleus, beginning the complex process of destroying DNA and reattaching key elements. As it finished its work, it left the cell and entered the bloodstream, meeting the thousands of other similar machines doing the same work.

* * *

Somewhere else in the galaxy, Commander Zeke and his platoon were sitting in a ship, waiting to reach their destination: Earth.
---------------------------

Bogglesteinsky · September 2003

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>QUOTE (zooby @ Sep 3 2003, 10:31 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'> (Zipping around on the space-time continuum [eeps])
 </td></tr></table> 
thats not something you want to be doing on a saturday afternoon. it can cause some craxy paradoxes and some even worse headaches for the historians who suddenly find that they were wrong.

play safely on that continum. more lives than your own may be at risk. (regular radiation screenings are a requrement of continued employment...)

zooby · September 2003

I don't think I've made any paradoxes. (correct me if I'm wrong)

I intentionally did not make anything too detailed as a means to aviod such problems.

It's like this. You're tracking A and B. You go with A for a while, then decide to come back and start again with B.

I hope it's not confusing, if it is, I'll try to remedy the problems. (And any mistakes I may have inadvertantly made.)

nooby · September 2003

Your story, go with it. Create a paradox if you wish, as you control the horizontal, the vertical, for the next hour you co............... etc. I personally like to read, if the science is wrong (for this dimension) it maybe is right for next door. Keep entertaining us please.

Edit:- do you mind if I take an idea or two to add to my story, you will have recognition if I do and no it will only be small parts not gross plagiarism.

zooby · September 2003

Everything since Shakespeare has simply been copied in one way or another, except for Fight Club <img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'>

Sure, go ahead.

nooby · September 2003

cheers, I like what I've read so far.

Hydra · September 2003

woah, nice story, I really like it, can't wait to find out what happens next.

nooby · September 2003

*bump*

zooby · September 2003

And now you know...
---------------------------

Chapter 7

You. You disobeyed a direct order. Killing humans, not once, not twice, but multiple times you engaged in direct combat without provocation and killed them. This war we are fighting is not against humans. Do you understand? The war we are fighting has spread through multiple generations, spread throughout the universe, and now, appears to be reaching a conclusion. How many races were wiped out? How many worlds, planets, and stars destroyed? Perhaps you were sleeping during that part of History. But you. You disgust me. How many of us must die until you see the depravity of your actions? I’ll personally make sure the remainder of your miserable existence is compounded by your treason to this great race, to the race of humanity, and to this universe. The soldier that kills for killing’s sake is a traitor not only to the banner he fights under, but a barbarian to the universe. Get out of my sight, you ungrateful cipher 

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Timothy Chan stood before the twenty soldiers that had just arrived on Earth. “You are the best of the best. You have gone up against an area reportedly run over by Mimics, and you have survived. No one has ever done that. It is because of this that you have been chosen among all recently-recruited platoons. Right now, every single one of you is listed K.I.A. As far as anyone else is concerned, you died back there. It is true, because after what you have been selected to do, you will become a new person.

“You will soon have the honor of meeting three of the TSA’s finest. They are veterans who have some of the highest decorations, and they have been recruited because their current status makes them so much more attractive for the job you all have been recruited for.

“I am Lieutenant Colonel Timothy Chan. I am your commanding officer. Everything I tell you to do, you will do. If I tell you not to do something, you better pray to God you don’t do it. In case none of you know who I am, I feel it necessary to introduce myself to you. As I said, I am Lieutenant Colonel Timothy Chan. I’ve been in the TSA for over five years, three years and combat and the last two pushing paper. I was part of Platoon 0017. My platoon was the first platoon to successfully secure a infested ship. I am the only living member of that platoon left.

“I will be accompanying you into your next missions. You have been selected for a certain mission, but first it is required that you have a medical examination. Please follow the green-red-red lights to your quarters. A medical orderly will come to take you to the biolabs. If any of you want out, I am under orders to make your K.I.A. file official. Understand?”

The cacophony of “SIR, YES, SIR!” echoed through the unloading dock.

Chan gave them the thumbs up. “Dismissed, privates!”

* * *

“What’s happening to me, Pete? I feel all weird and tingly.”

“It’s just the aftereffects. They’ll be gone soon. You’ll be stronger, faster, more alert. You won’t need sleep. It a new world out there.”

“So did you find out anything about your sister’s platoon?”

“No, I didn’t. For some odd reason the scientists were talking about it, but when I approached them, they just walked away from me.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

“Get some rest, Mike. You should be all-go tomorrow.”

“Can’t sleep man. Must be the nanos.”

“No, your DNA been’s overhauled. You’re feeling the results already.”

* * *

Here is another human ship that has been infected. Our sensors indicate that it is near Star MG-4508. It will take about five days for the nearest ship to get there. To the best of our knowledge, the humans have not yet sent any forces to neutralize the attack. We do not expect them too until the six day mark is reached. That should give us enough time to neutralize the unclean ones, but if the humans arrive, we must pull out immediately.

But sir, when do we present ourselves to them? The sooner they know of our existence, the sooner this war may be won!

Negative, Pulofgh. They know of our existence already. And it is not favorable.

Those traitors! We should go and--

What’s done is done. We cannot change that. We must focus on the task at hand. Nothing else will suffice.

nooby · September 2003

Now you've done it, left on the edge again, more story, write, pulls out whip gives tentative swipe hits self, puts away whip and says in loud threatening voice "Ve hav Vays of makin you Vork". Frightens self begs, pleads, more. more. more.

zooby · October 2003

Ok, here's the next bit. I got a bit busy with school and stuff.

Chapter 8
Mike Ruffo yawned and woke up. He took a look around, and saw a misplaced window leading off into space. “What the hell?” Ruffo sat up and banged his head on the bunk right above him. “OW! Wait…that didn’t even hurt, what’s going on here?” Ruffo slid out, and saw Pete aimlessly sitting on the top bunk.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Waiting, Ruffs. They’re sending us in first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“HQ got reports of another ship succumbing to infestation. They’re sending me, you and the Kingsbury fellow in first. Look out the window, there’s the ship.”

Ruffo looked out and saw a ship undoubtedly of human design, and a smaller alien-looking ship attached to it.

“Hey Pete, what gives? What is that other ship?”

“I don’t know Ruffs. It’s definitely not one of ours. Maybe they’re the harbingers. They’re the ones that bring our ships down with the Kharaa, and then come in afterwards to kill us. We’re the guinea pigs. That’s the only possible explanation. These Kharaa—they’re too strange to have evolved from anything, so something else must have made them. Here, we meet the father of the Kharaa. And we are going to kill them, yessir. They sent us out first to ‘evaluate’ our usefulness. I heard from the el-cee that a ship-ful of recruits was brought in to undergo gene therapy too. We were going to tell us everything, but you wouldn’t get up. No need to worry, you won’t hafta sleep for the rest of your life.”

The door opened to reveal the cockpit of the small corvette they were in. Kingsbury stood there. “Hey, target eta about 3 minutes. Let’s suit up. I’m itching for some payback. To the Kharaa. To those mimcs. Kingsbury walked over to a closet and opened it, revealing combat suits and weaponry.

“Here is the NS-200, a light armor suit that does not impede movement but rather augments the natural human movements. It is directly integrated with nanotechnology—any holes will be patched up in a matter of seconds, and it provides for some of the most impenetrable armor. The el-cee also wanted me to tell you that your body has been revamp with medical nanos. Don’t worry, they only will start fixing when it detects your body has undergone trauma. The white-coats finally developed a nanobot that reacts to intracellular chemicals, not to mention all the other upgrades we’ve been showered with. Our objective is to secure part of the ship and set up shop while we await the reinforcements.”

Their little pod was nearing the infested ship. “Proximity Alert.” the pod’s computer blared out. “Executing force-docking sequence…transport location detected…phase path created and stabilized.” The on-board phase gate sizzled to life.

Ruffo stood up and grabbed his shotgun. “Let’s go, shall we?”

They warped into what appeared to be a control room. Seats positioned in front of blank computer screens were eerily empty. No blood, no gore, no anything. Ruffo walked up to one of them and tapped the computer on.

“Lockdown across all quarters, enter password to disable: “ read the monitor.

“Ok, let’s get the command console up and running.”

Pete raised his rifle and began shooting across the room at something. Ruffo and Kingsbury turned around, only to see a dead lerk drop down from the ceiling.

“They know where we are. Let’s move!”

-----------------------

Tune in next time, where we will (hopefully) explore what an NS-game is like when there are three races in the fray.

nooby · October 2003

This only just turned up on my computer, but its worth the wait. Looking good, only minor question. If the science has been this good would they still equip them with old fashioned outmoded weapons? I thought that maybe weapons would be developed as a byproduct of their research? But your story is yours, don't worry about me and hurry up with the next bit, will you please? hehe.

zooby · October 2003

i forgot to mention what they got is a prototype.

nooby · October 2003

Aaah, aren't you just the bobby dazzler, yay for zooby.

CrystalSnake · October 2003

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>QUOTE </td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'>The New Front, FFF (First FanFic, lol at the anagram)</td></tr></table>
An anagram of "The New Front" would be "The Net Frown".
<img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/sad.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='sad.gif'> <-- net frown

However, your story = <img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'>

zooby · October 2003

Crystal Snake, I think I meant acronym...yea, more evidence showing that I don't know the english language...

next chapter up.
-------------------------
Chapter 9
When the command console was finished being constructed, Ruffo hopped in.

“Ok. I can’t access the entire ship from here, the ship-wide lockdown is preventing me. The computer’s working on cracking the password, but that’ll take at least half an hour or so. According to the map, there’s a resource nozzle about 50 humps from here. You guys wanna head over there, we can cap it, then return to base and set up shop.”

“Okay Ruffs. Let’s head out.”

“I’m guessing the hive locations are going to be in the engine room, the air and water control, and the aft cargo hold. Let’s take a look at the other toys the white coats made for us…hmm there’s smart bullets and sonic rifles. You guys want some of this?”

“We need armory first, Ruffs.”

“Right. Go build that resource tower first. Come on back and I’ll patch you through to your Christmas presents.”

A small blue triangle lit up on Pete’s HUD. A distance of 49 meters showed up below it.

“Kevin, Pete, turn on your low-light amplification goggles. It’s dark up ahead since the lights are out.”

A few minutes later Pete reported back. “The tower’s up. We’re coming back.”

“Alright. Look out for any hiding alphas.” Ruffs hit a few buttons and dropped two portals, an armory, and a number of turrets.” He then logged out to jump-start the building process. “Save humanity, they said. Do your duty to humanity. I don’t think I’m doing jack for anything except this derelict hunk of trash that’s floating down through no man’s land—”

“Lockdown disabled. Full ship control has been directed back to the control center. Rebooting systems…reboot failed. Unknown bioforms detected…Kharaa presence detected…Unknown bioforms detected…Kharaa presence detected…systems rewiring to execute containment protocol. All resource nodes disabled, all doors disabled, all switches off. Please contact the ship’s commander to change these settings.”

“Haha, Ruffs, looks like the tophats finally took our advice. This one’s gonna be an easy sweep. They’re completely and totally locked out.”

“Hmm…that system hacking went by much faster than expected. Oh well. We better get a message sent out to the el-cee and set up a presence in this ship. I should be able to patch through to the command console from this device.” Ruffs hit a few buttons on his PDA and a sonic rifle dropped from the ceiling, along with a few boxes of smart bullets.

“I especially like how they scaled the siege cannon to portable size.” Kevin said as he picked the rifle up. “Pretty light, too. Can’t wait to tear out the insides of the Kharaa with this baby.”

“Warning…unauthorized ship docked to the Alamo. Unidentified bioforms onboard.”

“Damn, that’s what we saw coming here, wasn’t it? What the hell are they doing?”

“Can’t wait to find out, Ruffs. I’m gonna stick this sonic rifle up their—well, whatever they have for butts. Then I’m gonna hit this trigger here and cause some major internal hemorrhaging.”

“Ok guys, the ship we saw is probably in this direction…” The waypoint blinked up on their HUDs. “Let’s go that way…very, very slowly.”

* * *

Lieutenant Timothy Chan stood in front of the new recruits who had just undergone their genetic therapy. “I’m sure you will have sufficient time to exercise your new abilities in a very short time. Another ship has been infested. This time, it’s a new ship straight off the dry docks. It has dynamic anti-Kharaa protocol procedures. We’re not expecting a full-blown infestation so this should be a walk in the park. We’ve sent the three more experienced soldiers in front of you. They will be setting up shop for us so that when we get there it will be nice and comfy for your lazy behinds.” The panel housing the holographic display beeped. Chan walked over and read the incoming message over.

“That was a message from them, they say there is another ship docked with the Alamo not of human origin. If it is human origin, some government has a lot of explaining to do, and if it isn’t…God help us if we’re staring in the face of the mother that gave birth to the Kharaa at the end of this day.”

“Platoon! Board vessel! Prepare yourselves for combat!”

nooby · October 2003

Ooh goody, a new weapon, and the story is beginning to get more exciting if that's possible.

(Then I’m hit this trigger) small change --- I'll instead of I'm-- haemorrhaging instead of hemorrhaging.

the ship we saw is probably is this direction--did you miss a word.

I know small picks but I want to help keep this story good.

The New Front

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