Harbinger/2

Operation Recoil
A full two weeks had passed, and although guards passed by his cell three times a day to provide them with meals (glucose crackers! Who did they think the inmates were, dogs?), none came with the errand of setting Daniel free. He was becoming desperate.

And how was Michael? Daniel knew that he was in the medical ward, but shouldn't he have recovered by now?

The days of waiting, imprisoned, do not seem like all that much; they get used to it, after the first day or two.

But for the alien menace! Every day, there were more casualties of war, as Daniel could see quite clearly from his computer--the only thing preventing him, and his comrades, from going insane. What was it? Thirty, fifty, or a hundred? -that had died so far from the onslaught, and it seemed only the beginning.

Still, no one coming.!.

Sure, the human defenders had made inroads in getting their forces in better shape, and had launched a few minor skirmishes against reported regions where the xenomorphs were spotted, but the aliens had been much more aggressive, now in the thousands and slowly, inexorably spreading across the surface of the planet, claiming its desert grounds as its own, and mostly unopposed, so far were they from Los Andares.

But they were getting closer. Their rate of expansion--nay, conquest--had been picking up in the last few days. Three more perimeter settlements had been overrun, their civilians long evacuated back to Los Andares...

There was every indication that freedom would soon come to Daniel and his faithful friends, being as they were of the military.

By now it was very obvious that the previous order not to attack the aliens had been rescinded.

...Still; no action...!!

Daniel had been pacing inside his diminuitive cell for the last five days, nearly endlessly. It was the least he could do to get his mind away from the sorrowful thoughts.

If only they would soon come, I would definitely prove my self-worth... Oh, how long would it take?

It was so boring, this long, two-week wait. For every day of that wait, he must have remained, expectant of salvation every minute, knowing that the pardon would soon come, would come soon, soon shall arrive--and it not ever arriving...not yet, not yet, not yet..........

Daniel began considering the various ways of striking his next victory against the mystery invaders... And ideas fluttered to his awed mind.

That night, a healed yet still shaken Michael returned to the prison wards where Daniel, Christopher, and Sarlena were being kept.

Still, he had been barely able to sleep, still lying wide awake for the expected saviors; nearly all else fell out of his mind, nearly. The clock inside the minimal-capability computer said that it was night here at Los Andares, and Daniel had already adjusted to those space problems. And, would they ever come?

Not that night, no. In the small hours of the morning, Daniel finally fell asleep.

And was suddenly brought awake by the loud calls of a military official, calling his name: "Corporal Travincal!"

Daniel's first instinct was to rub his eyes and yawn. "Aa....ermm..what time is it?"

"Six o'clock! Now Git-up!!" Daniel forced his tired body to obey. "What's the matter, can't you get up? Oh, had a bad sleep... You been waiting for someone to free you last night?" Insightful, that guy, Daniel remarked to himself.

All four of his team were whisked to a nearby room for a rapid debriefing, performed by the same military official. "Name's Trevor, Daniel," he begun, then continued, "as you know from watching the computer, the current situation is gradually degrading, though the rate is increasing. Being former military, you probably have had experience in war, and your record says that you had engaged the enemy. Therefore, your captain has given the order that you are to be dispatched to a location soon to be disclosed to you, where PFC Higgins, Jr. had been reportedly downed and probably awaiting rescue." The plasma screen television set flicked on, showing the view from within Higgins's visor.

He was floating high above the ground, on sustained-combustion rocket boosters. He was training a burst laser on the various targets below--obviously helpless; they were the dog-like aliens that Daniel's team had earlier fought against. The burst laser was very potent; bursts of it seared through the unprotective creatures' carapaces, immediately turning them and the underlying flesh into burned holes and smoke. Each burst seared another creature, until from Daniel's view, all of the aliens were lying dead, muscles twitching, approaching rigor mortis.

Then suddenly, there was a violent shake, the private first-class shouted "ahh!!!", the soldier was losing altitude, and the next moment there was only static.

"When did this happen?" Sarlena asked.

"Only three minutes ago," replied the official, looking at his gilded watch. "There's a dropship waiting for you right now, I should presume, with your supplies on board, so hurry to it!" And with that, the official hard something on his intercom, and rushed out of the room on some errand.

The foursome looked at each other, unknowing what to say, relieved that they had been set free, yet also wondering what fate would hand them... and what had befallen Private First-Class Higgins, Jr.

The following moment saw them rushing out toward the prison complex's docking bay...

But they were then unceremoniously stopped at the entry hatch to the dropship. "Sorry, but there's been a change of plans," explained the guard, extending his arms in a gesture that meant quite clearly, please return to your cells, with a gauss rifle to boot.

"But the military official, he said--"

"Well, you see, someone else has just been assigned to the rescue mission, and your aid is now unnecessary..."

Behind, several prison guards arrived, and escorted the four back to their cells. Along the way, Daniel asked of one, "could you please give us a few supplies?"

The guard was amicable, and replied, "sure, if I'm allowed to do so. What do you want sent over?"

Why is he being so nice? wondered Daniel. Maybe it's because he realizes that what I'm about to do will perhaps save a few humans from their deaths, and that one of those saved could very well be him...

Twenty minutes of waiting in his cell again, and Daniel received his asked-for shipment of supplies. "Right then, Corporal, here's the wooden planks, superglue, axles, drills, gears, and wheels."

"Don't give them to me, give them to Chris," Daniel ordered.

The guard batted him a querulous eye. "Christopher?"

"Yeah, he's the technician in our team, not me." At this, Chris gave the two a weird look that meant to say, what's up?

When the guard had gone, Daniel began to explain. "We're not freed yet, but our time's about to come--and very soon. We'll be running into more of those alien dogs, lots of them. Gauss rifles have plenty of recoil, and that's why we're always told to use our power armor when using them..." Christopher was nodding very soon.

Then there was the excruciating wait. The team was now far more alert than their lethargic past selves, rushing to get the four crafts built in time...

That night, Daniel was brought wide awake by the shrill cry of Michael, while he was still in his bed: "Faster, girl, Run! Girl, RUN!! Oh, I am so, so-- sorry..."

"You okay?" asked Sarlena, from the nearby cell. The lights turned on, and then Daniel could see the sweat beads rolling off of the tormented soldier. It must still be the trauma of having shot the civilian on that first day, Daniel recalled...

The days dragged on, two more days of toil building the crafts. They were getting excited, though Daniel also didn't wish for the summons to action to arrive before the crafts had been built.

Shortly after the fourth one was completed, the summons came, the four were freed, and they raced to the waiting dropship, each carrying the improvised crafts, with the official leading the way and shouting, "...this time, telsat II has spotted about thirty xenomorphs progressing at a feverish pace toward another civilian settlement, one that has not yet had time to evacuate. Requesting your immediate assistance at said location, to be disclosed once dropship has arrived at thirty thousand feet..."

"...strap yourselves in, boys..." came the lofty feminine voice of the warrant officer.

There was the warp in space-time, as the dropship travelled at faster-than-light speeds toward the settlement of New Haven, population 140, nearly one third of the way between Los Andares and the first sightings of the beasts...

Daniel wondered what the SCV at the rear of the dropship was doing, along with the brown-skinned driver in its front seat... As the dropship descended, the four, now in gear, watched out the window as the planet visibly drifted ever closer upward (or the other way around, too)...

The Quantradyne engines came to a halt as the dropship settled upon the ground roughly one mile away from the city outskirts. The warrant officer announced, "we have arrived at the destination. Expected contact with the subject: ten minutes. The aliens seem to be headed straight through the pass toward the settlement; the SCV on board, and driver, are here to help you rapidly construct a defensive fortification; you five are the only ones defending this area. Good luck."

"All right, time for Operation Recoil," declared Daniel. The SCV driver asked expectantly, "SCV's for go, sir! What'll you have me build, a bunka'? I can get a light one up in ten minutes straight..."

"No, no, we have our bunka's right in our hands, private! Make for the safety of the settlement, now!"

"What?? I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly, Corporal!"

"I said, get your SCV back to the settlement! You're not needed here!" The SCV sped off at fifteen kilometers an hour, and Daniel now turned to the other three. "All right, everybody get down on their craft!" Each marine placed his or her craft on the ground, resembling a prototype wagon on the rough barren ground, then laid down on it, back upward and chest on the ground, hands gripping the wooden crafts tightly and gauss rifles propped forward, instantly transforming into miniature gunships.

"And now we wait," said Daniel, looking into the unremarkable distance with fiery eyes.

By the time they had finished testing their gears, the aliens were nearly in sight. "Don't fire until they are within a hundred yards," Daniel said clearly. So they waited, as the aliens approached so swiftly... the visors read them as coming in at twelve miles per hour. Five hundred...... Four hundred...... Three hundred...... Two hundred...... Fire!

At nearly point-blank, the rounds of the gauss rifle fired into the wave of alien flesh and tendon, a spray of death, as blood burst from the unfortunate aliens at front. All the large pack of "mad dogs" chased after their quarry, claws ready to tear them apart.

But they could never get close to the four marines, since as the shots fired out in a nearly continuous stream from each submachine gun, the combined momentum pushed their crafts backward over the ground, hurtling backward to the settlement at up to twelve miles per hour. The constant rat-a-tata-rat-a-tata-rat of the gausses fired unrelenting, as alien after alien died along the long path back to the settlement.

The aliens knew that they had lost this engagement, and the surviving ten rapidly burrowed into the ground, six of them being shot to pieces in the process.

"Well, that's another victory for Artifact Station," cheered Sarlena.

And for once, the somber mood worn on Michael's face was replaced by one of joy, of inner recovery...

Proof of Power
By the time the foursome had arrived back at the settlement of New Haven, another dropship had landed, and a uniformed military official was in wait. "Ah, you're here now," he said once he saw the team. "We saw the encounter--flawless tactics!"

Daniel looked at Christopher agape, who was also looking at Michael, and Sarlena with mouth wide open...

"...And so I'm here to promote all four of you. Corporal Daniel, to Sergeant, Private Christopher, to Corporal, Private Michael, to Private First Class, and Private Sarlena, to Private First Class."

Michael looked at Sarlena agape, who was also looking at Christopher, and Daniel with mouth wide open...

"Well, what're we waiting for! Celebration!!!" shouted Sarlena, while the hundred-odd civilians watched on...

From the dropship poured forth thirty soldiers, of which four were firebats armed with Perdition flamethrowers, and the rest marines with the standard-issue Gauss rifles. "These are your troops," the soldier declared.