The Storm Hammer
legion_gimpeh
Join Date: 2003-02-10 Member: 13384Members
Join Date: 2003-02-10 Member: 13384Members
<div class="IPBDescription">Chapter One</div> Captain Ian Lamh rested his head against the cold interior wall of the dropship. This was his fifth mission with the Vindicators. He had been a Private when he had joined the squad, but promotion within the Vindicators was usually swift. Very swift.
“Command informs us that the vessel, the Storm Hammer, fell under Kharaa control six weeks ago whilst in the Vermillion nebula. We lost all communications and all hands are suspected dead,” the Commander said tonelessly, skimming over the TSA report. No one knew his name, as he was with the regulars. The Vindicators operated slightly differently to the regular TSA marines. Instead of establishing a beachhead in the infested area, the Vindicator squads would phase in with personal phase adaptors. The Commander would remain on the dropship, about one hundred yards from the infested vessel or research station, whichever it was.
“Entry shall be through the normal methods,” the Commander continued, “Initial scans reveal two Hives and multiple Kharaa signatures. This one shall be difficult, Captain.” Looking up at the Commander, Ian shrugged.
“They always are,” he replied. The Vindicators were always sent into ‘high risk situations’, where life expectancy was slim to none. Somehow, Ian Lamh had managed to survive five missions, so he had been promoted to Captain.
“Two minutes until arrival,” the pilot said, almost reverently. It was a regular occurrence amongst non-Vindicator personnel attached to the units to take bets on how many men would return from a mission. Ian looked around the belly of the dropship at the nine other men who would be accompanying him on this mission. All of them were good men, their only crime being that they had gone crazy with paranoia after encountering the Kharaa. He wondered idly how many of them would return, assuming that any of them did.
“One minute until arrival,” the pilot said automatically. Shaking himself from his quietness, Ian stood up.
“Okay team, check your gear,” he said, “For some of you, this is your first mission. I won’t try and kid you on that we’re unsung heroes, looking for glory. The truth is the TSA couldn’t give a rat’s **** about what happens to us, so we have to look out for each other. I don’t want any of you going off on your own; we’re in this as a team.” With his inspirational speech over with, Ian began to check his own gear. They weren’t outfitted with the standard TSA gear. In fact, a good deal of their equipment was experimental. What better testing ground to have your new technology tested on than in your enemy’s backyard?
Instead of the Light Machine Guns issued as standard by the TSA, they bore Flamethrowers. The Kharaa might be numerous, but they were organic and they could burn. In accordance with this, they wore armour that was a cross between the light armour worn by standard Marines and the heavy armour worn by the Heavy Assault Marines.
“Okay guys, we’ve arrived,” the pilot said quietly. Ian peered out of the cockpit window at the hulking mass of the Storm Hammer. It was an assault craft, designed to obliterate the Hive worlds of the Kharaa. It was bitter irony that it had itself been overrun by the very thing it was designed to kill.
“Input the given co-ordinates for personal phase jump. On my mark, activate adaptors. Three, two, one. Mark.”
There was a gut-wrenching feeling as Ian was phased the one hundred and twenty five yards to the Storm Hammer. As he phased back into reality, light blinded him. It took him a few seconds to adjust to his new surroundings.
“Check in team,” Ian said as he sparked the ignition on his flamethrower. Nine voices answered him. They had all made the jump, which was a minor miracle in itself. On two of his missions, someone had jumped into a wall and on another, the jump co-ordinates had landed them directly in a Hive.
“Captain, it seems that I am stuck behind a bulkhead,” said Herrmann, one of the new recruits, “The corridor I am in seems clean though.” Clean meant that there was no visible sign of Kharaa infestation. Usually, the entire spaceships were coated in the slime that the Hives secreted.
“Okay, hang in there and we’ll come and cut you out,” Ian said, activating the magnetic plates in his boots. It was the norm that infested ships had lost all power and therefore lost all artificial gravity. For that reason, the Vindicator armour had magnetic plates in-built so that they could function normally until gravity was restored. Unfortunately, it also meant that the flamethrowers were useless until gravity was re-established.
“Captain, preliminary scans reveal no immediate Kharaa activity,” Sergeant Harrison said flatly, consulting his personal motion scanner. Another piece of experimental technology, the personal motion scanner worked a bit like the motion tracking available through Observatories, but this was a little too sensitive. Even metal fatigue could set it off, meaning that the Vindicators had to be quick in learning to identify what was ‘noise’ and what were genuine Kharaa signals.
“Okay, let’s haul **** over to Herrmann’s position,” Ian said, setting off down a nearby corridor. The journey was quiet, with only the odd ominous squeal of metal fatigue punctuating the heavy thuds of their magnetic boots gripping onto the floor. Eventually, they arrived at the bulkhead which blocked them from Herrmann. With a nod to one of the other Marines, Ian ordered them to slice through the bulkhead with their acetone lance. It took the Marine about thirty seconds to open up a hole large enough for the Marines to pass through in single file.
“You still here, Herrmann?” Ian said through the comms channel as he stepped through the hole in the bulkhead.
“Yup, just up the corridor a bit,” came the reply. Ian walked up the corridor, glancing around as he walked.
“No sign of Kharaa infestation whatsoever,” Ian mused, “This place must have been sealed up before the Kharaa could get here.” He could see the figure of Herrmann hunched against the wall as he walked.
“What are you up to, Herrmann?” The faint sound of electric sparks drifted into his helmet.
“Fixing up this door panel, Captain, so we can have a look to see what’s behind this here door,” Herrmann answered, giving out a short exultant cry as the door panel sprang into life. Pushing a few buttons, he stood back as the door slid silently open. Beyond the opening, there was murky darkness, but a few quiet beeps and the distant thrum of power emanated from within.
“Okay team, let’s head in and see what’s happening,” Ian said, walking over the threshold. The darkness swallowed him entirely, leaving the rest of the team to follow in his footsteps.
“Damn, Captain, you would think they would have left the lights on,” muttered O’Hanlon irately. As soon as he had finished speaking, the lights came up. All ten men shielded their eyes from the sudden illumination.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Ian said light-heartedly. There was a smattering of laughter from the other men, before they lowered their arms, “Well, it looks like Herrmann lucked out. This seems to be the life support control centre.” He walked over to a lit console and squinted at it. Part of his TSA training had involved basic cruiser control training. Stabbing a few buttons with an armoured finger, he nodded in approval. A few seconds later, the Storm Hammer shuddered for her entire length as the artificial gravity kicked in.
“Disengage your mag-plates, team,” Ian ordered, doing so himself. He felt the boots release themselves from the floor and he lifted his legs a little to shake the low gravity strain from them. He was about to negotiate his way over to the nearby communications terminal when Harrison’s voice cracked into his headset.
“Sir,” the Sergeant said grimly, “we’ve got incoming.”
------
Next instalment to follow shortly.
“Command informs us that the vessel, the Storm Hammer, fell under Kharaa control six weeks ago whilst in the Vermillion nebula. We lost all communications and all hands are suspected dead,” the Commander said tonelessly, skimming over the TSA report. No one knew his name, as he was with the regulars. The Vindicators operated slightly differently to the regular TSA marines. Instead of establishing a beachhead in the infested area, the Vindicator squads would phase in with personal phase adaptors. The Commander would remain on the dropship, about one hundred yards from the infested vessel or research station, whichever it was.
“Entry shall be through the normal methods,” the Commander continued, “Initial scans reveal two Hives and multiple Kharaa signatures. This one shall be difficult, Captain.” Looking up at the Commander, Ian shrugged.
“They always are,” he replied. The Vindicators were always sent into ‘high risk situations’, where life expectancy was slim to none. Somehow, Ian Lamh had managed to survive five missions, so he had been promoted to Captain.
“Two minutes until arrival,” the pilot said, almost reverently. It was a regular occurrence amongst non-Vindicator personnel attached to the units to take bets on how many men would return from a mission. Ian looked around the belly of the dropship at the nine other men who would be accompanying him on this mission. All of them were good men, their only crime being that they had gone crazy with paranoia after encountering the Kharaa. He wondered idly how many of them would return, assuming that any of them did.
“One minute until arrival,” the pilot said automatically. Shaking himself from his quietness, Ian stood up.
“Okay team, check your gear,” he said, “For some of you, this is your first mission. I won’t try and kid you on that we’re unsung heroes, looking for glory. The truth is the TSA couldn’t give a rat’s **** about what happens to us, so we have to look out for each other. I don’t want any of you going off on your own; we’re in this as a team.” With his inspirational speech over with, Ian began to check his own gear. They weren’t outfitted with the standard TSA gear. In fact, a good deal of their equipment was experimental. What better testing ground to have your new technology tested on than in your enemy’s backyard?
Instead of the Light Machine Guns issued as standard by the TSA, they bore Flamethrowers. The Kharaa might be numerous, but they were organic and they could burn. In accordance with this, they wore armour that was a cross between the light armour worn by standard Marines and the heavy armour worn by the Heavy Assault Marines.
“Okay guys, we’ve arrived,” the pilot said quietly. Ian peered out of the cockpit window at the hulking mass of the Storm Hammer. It was an assault craft, designed to obliterate the Hive worlds of the Kharaa. It was bitter irony that it had itself been overrun by the very thing it was designed to kill.
“Input the given co-ordinates for personal phase jump. On my mark, activate adaptors. Three, two, one. Mark.”
There was a gut-wrenching feeling as Ian was phased the one hundred and twenty five yards to the Storm Hammer. As he phased back into reality, light blinded him. It took him a few seconds to adjust to his new surroundings.
“Check in team,” Ian said as he sparked the ignition on his flamethrower. Nine voices answered him. They had all made the jump, which was a minor miracle in itself. On two of his missions, someone had jumped into a wall and on another, the jump co-ordinates had landed them directly in a Hive.
“Captain, it seems that I am stuck behind a bulkhead,” said Herrmann, one of the new recruits, “The corridor I am in seems clean though.” Clean meant that there was no visible sign of Kharaa infestation. Usually, the entire spaceships were coated in the slime that the Hives secreted.
“Okay, hang in there and we’ll come and cut you out,” Ian said, activating the magnetic plates in his boots. It was the norm that infested ships had lost all power and therefore lost all artificial gravity. For that reason, the Vindicator armour had magnetic plates in-built so that they could function normally until gravity was restored. Unfortunately, it also meant that the flamethrowers were useless until gravity was re-established.
“Captain, preliminary scans reveal no immediate Kharaa activity,” Sergeant Harrison said flatly, consulting his personal motion scanner. Another piece of experimental technology, the personal motion scanner worked a bit like the motion tracking available through Observatories, but this was a little too sensitive. Even metal fatigue could set it off, meaning that the Vindicators had to be quick in learning to identify what was ‘noise’ and what were genuine Kharaa signals.
“Okay, let’s haul **** over to Herrmann’s position,” Ian said, setting off down a nearby corridor. The journey was quiet, with only the odd ominous squeal of metal fatigue punctuating the heavy thuds of their magnetic boots gripping onto the floor. Eventually, they arrived at the bulkhead which blocked them from Herrmann. With a nod to one of the other Marines, Ian ordered them to slice through the bulkhead with their acetone lance. It took the Marine about thirty seconds to open up a hole large enough for the Marines to pass through in single file.
“You still here, Herrmann?” Ian said through the comms channel as he stepped through the hole in the bulkhead.
“Yup, just up the corridor a bit,” came the reply. Ian walked up the corridor, glancing around as he walked.
“No sign of Kharaa infestation whatsoever,” Ian mused, “This place must have been sealed up before the Kharaa could get here.” He could see the figure of Herrmann hunched against the wall as he walked.
“What are you up to, Herrmann?” The faint sound of electric sparks drifted into his helmet.
“Fixing up this door panel, Captain, so we can have a look to see what’s behind this here door,” Herrmann answered, giving out a short exultant cry as the door panel sprang into life. Pushing a few buttons, he stood back as the door slid silently open. Beyond the opening, there was murky darkness, but a few quiet beeps and the distant thrum of power emanated from within.
“Okay team, let’s head in and see what’s happening,” Ian said, walking over the threshold. The darkness swallowed him entirely, leaving the rest of the team to follow in his footsteps.
“Damn, Captain, you would think they would have left the lights on,” muttered O’Hanlon irately. As soon as he had finished speaking, the lights came up. All ten men shielded their eyes from the sudden illumination.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Ian said light-heartedly. There was a smattering of laughter from the other men, before they lowered their arms, “Well, it looks like Herrmann lucked out. This seems to be the life support control centre.” He walked over to a lit console and squinted at it. Part of his TSA training had involved basic cruiser control training. Stabbing a few buttons with an armoured finger, he nodded in approval. A few seconds later, the Storm Hammer shuddered for her entire length as the artificial gravity kicked in.
“Disengage your mag-plates, team,” Ian ordered, doing so himself. He felt the boots release themselves from the floor and he lifted his legs a little to shake the low gravity strain from them. He was about to negotiate his way over to the nearby communications terminal when Harrison’s voice cracked into his headset.
“Sir,” the Sergeant said grimly, “we’ve got incoming.”
------
Next instalment to follow shortly.
Comments
Its like, ever wonder what its like for our in-game characters right before they *pop* into the maps? What if we had different weapon load outs right at the start? What if we could pick special training? What if we didn't have a command chair and the aliens had a hive or two already? Could you survive if you knew that you just had one chance, no coming back with "resurection" technology and an infantry portal. This has so much possibility, I can't wait to see where you go with it.
how come no flamers in zero G ?
Kick **** story, Can't wait to see where you go with it.