by Casey Herzog
Powerful engines roared, and the unmistakable thunderclap of an aircraft breaking the sound barrier reached Reiner’s ears and his heart sunk. Shit, he thought as he saw the vessel thunder past them, rocking the roofs of the shacks beneath it and forcing the men on the roofs to cover their faces against the onslaught of dust and dirt that rose up with it.
“Men!” The Whisperer yelled, “Give them hell!”
He edged his way down the roof and tracked the aircraft with his rifle. There was something familiarly frightening about it, he realized. The short, compact shape and the smooth lines; the long cannons and clean engines…
“It’s Outsider technology!” November said. Exactly, the Whisperer thought with dread.
It was coming back. A burst of fire erupted from its cannons and Reiner ducked, a line of homes behind him getting torn to shreds in an instant. The bricks were turned to dust, the wooden and tin roofs lifting up and flying away with destructive force.
Reiner stood and fired on full auto, screaming in fury as he aimed at the machine's engines. More gunfire rose from other areas of the village, and he glanced around, counting the streams of bullets firing up at the sky. They’re still all alive, I think.
The vessel came around for a third run, and this time he didn’t even get a warning.
CRAAASSSHHH
One minute he was crouching on the roof of a building, the next there was no building at all. Reiner’s hand reached for his ribs instinctively. He had broken one or two of them, he realized, his face covered in dust as he pulled himself from the rubble. A man’s screams reached his ears, but the vessel was already coming back again. There were also several trucks approaching their location, the enemies having now realized where the checkpoint’s attackers were. Reiner and his men had prepared for ground vehicles and foot soldiers, not Outsider aircraft. Though it pained him to accept defeat, there was nothing left to do. It was all over.
“Retreat!” he screamed, “Get out of here!” His piercing whistle alerted the truck driver and an engine roared.
The ship passed overhead once more, and another line of houses was destroyed. Several men escaped the town on foot, their bikes either destroyed or trapped under the rubble of wrecked homes.
Reiner ran to the truck as it began to leave the warehouse, but the ship circled around before he had even reached it.
“We’re dead!” the driver screamed at him, but there was no further attack.
Instead, a familiar voice erupted from a speaker beneath the vessel.
“This is for my people.”
The projectile fell from the bottom of the ship before Reiner could even realize it, and he threw himself into the truck in desperation.
Both he and the driver screamed as the massive explosion annihilated the village, their transport getting thrown off the ground like a leaf in the wind, their bodies being thrown around the truck’s cabin like ragdolls. As they landed on the ground once more, the vehicle collided with a sickening crunch and rolled several times, and the blue-eyed man saw the hostile aircraft approaching them one final time.
“No!” he cried, but suddenly a missile shot at the vessel out of nowhere, the projectile narrowly missing, but forcing it to redirect.
With a grimace, Reiner turned his wounded head around to look at the approaching aircraft.
Funny, he thought as the battlefield became a cacophony of explosions and automatic gunfire and everything began to turn black, I’ve never been so happy to see the Coalition before…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~Impact~
*Twelve Years Ago*
Only seventy-two hours had passed since his introduction to his new squadron and the moment he was thrust into his first warzone.
Callum had been training long enough — three years of grueling, spirit-breaking workouts, practice and psychological indoctrination that had cost him plenty of blood, sweat and tears — to know that the Outsiders were adept at turning a peaceful sector into a fiery hell within hours. They were relentless and fought without mercy, two particular traits that made them unstoppable when they were battling for a strategic objective.
In another time, in different circumstances, I may have even respected the alien bastards.
He and his fellow squad members sat silently on the aircraft, checking their guns absent-mindedly as they flew over the coast in a loose formation. The war had driven Callum and the others to the eastern fringes of the world, an area the Outsiders were increasingly becoming interested in after discovering the heavy presence of rare earth elements located there. Although they hadn’t really been informed of what the Outsiders were searching for, Callum was aware that the elements were utilized in modern technology for lasers. Judging by the weaponry used by the alien race, a successful capture of the Oriental Nations could end up being the turning point of the war.
The Coalition could not allow it.
The troop carriers that soared above the ocean were masked against alien radars, and Callum prayed they would remain undetected until reaching their destination. He had seen what Outsider anti-aircraft weapons were capable of doing to jets and carriers before.
“If we get out of this alive, the round of drinks is on me,” Sanchez had said before takeoff. Callum didn’t really know the man, but he seemed smart and capable. The tan-skinned soldier had aced most of his firing tests and had been rewarded a rare elite-level sniper rifle for his efforts. “Heck, the first two rounds, even.”
Nobody laughed, but the mood had lifted ever so slightly after his declaration.
Callum was amazed by the Coalition force at display: scores of ships crossed across the sky, not only troop carriers, but armor carriers as well; bombers, jets and drones making up the rest of the airborne fleet heading straight towards the enemy force attempting to crush the human defenses and take control of the ground.
The Coalition doesn’t leave anything to chance. This may just be overkill.
A half hour later, the troops in the compartment were able to see the first signs of what they were going to witness on the battlefield.
Gaping craters covered the ground, entire sections of land torn to pieces and even crystallized by bursts of extremely high temperatures. Corpses were strewn over the land, but most remains were unidentifiable, such was the destruction they had been the targets of.
“Fuck them,” a female soldier breathed, as she looked out over the battlefield. The smoking ruins of cities sat on the coastline, looking forlorn and sad in their annihilated state. Callum knew millions were dead in this area alone, let alone the entire world. The aliens had struck without a single warning, blitzing each urban area with a precision and brutality that very few human armies could have accomplished.
“War is hell,” Callum said quietly, and several soldiers turned to look at him. He’d heard the saying before, but had never quite seen enough to understand what it truly meant. His family had died due to the effects of the alien bombings. He’d seen his own fair share of carnage, but only up here looking down at the burned and blown up cities did he truly have a proper perspective of the consequences of armed conflict.
A voice descended from speakers all around the ship’s interior. It was the fleet commander speaking to all of his forces.
“The enemy is several miles up ahead; be ready soldiers. Good luck and make every shot count, whether you’re on foot or in the air. We’re going to pass through the very gates of the Underworld itself…”
BOOM
A troop carrier several aircraft away from them was hit by a supersonic laser, the projectile lighting up within the plane and killing everyone inside before flying out of the other side of the craft. Everyone in Callum’s vicinity jumped in sudden shock; their hearts were in their mouths as they realized they had entered into the defensive grid’s range.
“Calm down everyone!” the squad sergeant barked. “None of us are dying today without a fight. You’ll see.”
The cacophony of weapon discharge began a moment later, as the
Coalition forces responded. The troop carrier rolled to one side, and all of the soldiers held on tight as they began the landing procedure. Immediately, the enemy forces became visible; one of the younger soldiers even gasped.
There was a massive alien fortress floating miles ahead of them, its giant, spider-like form bedecked with turrets and cannons. Smaller jets took off from within its structure, and great shield generators shone with each hit it took. The thing looked unstoppable, Callum thought, and one of their mission objectives was to disable or destroy it somehow. Easier said than done.
“Oh you know what? Make it three rounds,” Sanchez said, moments before the carrier was hit by a rocket and thrown out of the sky.
As the ground thundered up to meet them, Callum made a promise to himself and to his mother.
This is my first mission, but far from my last. I will be a cog in the human machine that annihilates the Outsider threat. I will bring death to the enemy and support to my allies.
I am Callum Thorpe, and I will be the bane of these aliens.
The pilot may have been flying a burning, eight-ton aircraft, but he did a damn good job of crash-landing the plane onto the beach in one piece without killing any of his passengers.
Callum gasped as the ship came to a skidding stop, his head dizzy and his body feeling battered, but he and the rest knew they had no time to recover from the impact. We’ve just set foot into the fight. Slowly but surely, the occupants of the fallen carrier began to pour out with their weapons and what little gear they could salvage in their hands and on their backs. Much of their equipment had been in the bottom and back of the ship and had been crushed. Our lives are worth more, though, Callum thought with relief.
He scanned the area, watching the sky as it was filled with lines of tracer fire and explosions. It was as if the world’s fate itself depended on the outcome of today’s encounter with the enemy.
“I sense something out there, closing in,” Sanchez breathed all of a sudden.
It happened then, just a moment later.
The sands of the coast burst up outwards from unseen bunkers beneath the ground and the aliens poured out in numbers. They came as a wave, their tall, armored, bipedal bodies powering forth, and their weapons raised at chest level and firing. Scores of soldiers fell on the sands within seconds, but Callum lifted his rifle with a scowl and unleashed death on them. He fired at each alien in front of him until it died, only then moving on to the next target in line.
One of them lined its forearm-mounted sidearm at him, but he stopped and crouched, causing the alien’s burst of fire to miss him completely. His return fire knocked the Outsider back before one of his rounds pierced its helmet and blew its skull apart.
“Good shot, Thorpe!” the sergeant cried, falling to a knee and firing a cannon-like weapon at the creatures. “Get ready for close combat!” The explosion from the sergeant’s projectile tore the alien formation apart, throwing the enemy soldiers in several directions and killing a pair of them with a hail of shrapnel that burst from the squad sergeant’s rocket-propelled grenade.
True enough, the Coalition squad was on top of the aliens’ position within seconds.
It is important to note that Outsiders aren’t just larger than the average human being. They’re stronger, faster, more agile, and better trained for combat than even the hardest cadet in the Coalition academies. Although, certain soldiers of higher ranks had learned the necessary tricks to use when facing them.
Their long, gorilla-like arms; shorter, but equally strong legs; broad, powerful chest and back; and their small heads with thick necks made them very resistant to physical attacks, even when lacking their usual full coat of armor. Their helmets were similar to masks, each of them individually different and possessing all sorts of advanced technologies within. Though scientists had attempted to decipher their functions, the helmets ceased to work when removed from an Outsider’s head, or when the Outsider’s hearts (primary and secondary) stopped beating.
Nevertheless, Callum had been trained in close combat by one of the most experienced war veterans of them all, and he wasn’t going down without taking several of the aliens with him.
The first Outsider rolled onto its feet and swiped at him almost lazily — disrespectfully — like a human swatting at a fly. Callum clenched his teeth in anger and ducked under the attack, pulling his dagger out and punching it into the enemy’s chest. He felt a thrill as he considered the alien dead, but it quickly slammed a large fist into his gut and sent him flying several yards back.
“Thorpe!” he heard a woman scream, but all Callum could do was crawl away as the monster unsheathed blades of its own from its armored wrists and began to approach menacingly. Even now, wounded, it still remained as arrogant as always, as confident in a victory as its entire race had been since their arrival.
However, it wasn’t aware of what the Coalition was capable of. What humanity was capable of.
Thorpe stood up and stretched his arms wide to goad the alien on, taunting it in a way in which he knew it would react to.
The Outsider lunged forward with a blade, spinning its wrist in an attempt to disembowel him, but the soldier was already moving. He sliced hard at the creature’s ankle, moving in time to dodge the other blade that slammed into the sand beside him. A savage kick almost knocked Callum off his feet, but he managed to pierce the dagger into the alien’s thigh. With both thigh and ankle cut open and bloody, the Outsider limped awkwardly to its other foot in an attempt to reposition itself.
“Too slow,” Callum said, and pulled his own sidearm out.
The armor-piercing bullet fired into the alien’s chin and out through the top of its skull at the very moment the earth-shattering detonation lit up above and in front of them all. Callum and the rest watched as the massive alien fortress began its slow descent towards the ground, smoke rising from a hundred different wounds in its sides; the Outsider bases beneath it were crushed.
A powerful cheer rose from the mouths of the human soldiers, but the battle wasn’t over yet.
When the Coalition waged war, it was not only to win the battle.
The Coalition’s objectives were to destroy and to erase the existence of their enemies.
The Coalition’s goal was to annihilate — and although the enemy had just suffered a crushing blow, the battle had just begun.
The ship rocked, and Callum returned from his memories to the present.
“This isn’t good,” Fillmore breathed, pulling hard on the craft’s yoke just as a missile flew past them.
Callum clenched his teeth at the sudden break and turn the aircraft made, his gut shifting awkwardly with the movement. It’s been too long since I last went through this, he thought. Although they didn’t like each other much, he and Fillmore definitely respected each other’s prowess. While the captain was busy piloting the craft, Callum had taken charge of the weapons. Right now, however, weapons were useless against the slippery squadron of Coalition jets that had flown into the area. Although their Outsider ship was smaller and more agile, the pilots chasing them had experience in hunting down alien aircraft.
“Another one at two o’ clock, watch out!” The captain accelerated and ducked under another projectile launched at them. They were slowly, but surely, being chased away from the ruins of the village, and it spelled bad news for their mission. If the Whisperer managed to get away this time, they might just lose him forever. There was also the small detail about the truck; who was inside it? Callum knew it was most likely Russell of Lawlessness. If it was, then they could kill two birds with one stone... “Stand down, we’re not your enemy!” he shouted into the speaker. A barrage of missiles was his reply, and Fillmore cursed loudly as he was forced into a mix of evasive maneuvers and flare countermeasures.
“Cease fire!” Fillmore roared, but nothing happened. Below them, their allies poured fire up at their pursuers, but the Coalition jets were keeping them occupied as well. Untimely sons of bitches, Callum thought with f
ury, targeting the first of them and shaking his head in disappointment. The captain turned to him and gave a single nod. “Kill them.”
Boom.
A Coalition plane was blown from the sky as one of its wings was cleaved right off by a destructive attack from Callum’s right laser cannon. The left cannon’s discharge forced a hole in the enemy formation and Fillmore thundered through it, returning to the motorcycle chase within an instant. They were going down, but if they could take the Whisperer and his men before they did, it was going to be worth it.
That was when he realized that there was nothing left to chase.
The few bikers remaining from the destruction were either racing away on their bikes or on foot; or they were lying dead on the mud around the smoking remains of the city. The truck had been caught by the explosion and was lying upside down with the compartment doors hanging open on their hinges. Callum caught sight of a large figure emerging from it.