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Inferno - Chapter 10: Invasion
Posted By: Skul<skulkrusha2000@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 April 2008, 3:05 am
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0056 hours, June 13, 2553 (Military Calendar) / Fire Base Alpha Zulu Foxtrot, Planet Earth
The mess hall door had just closed behind Osmond when he heard a huge crash followed by a roar amidst a cacophony of metal clangs. The lights in the hallway flickered and the ground trembled as if an earthquake had hit. The Captain had already turned to run back into the mess hall when he heard Davis, the cook, scream. Whether in fear or pain, he couldn't tell, but he would find out soon enough.
The mess hall door opened and Osmond, pistol ready, saw a completely different room than from before. The walls were lined with cracks, a few lights had shattered and in the centre of the mess hall, there was a large hole. Something huge had tore through from below and sent the metal tables flying.
Lying near the huge opening in the floor was a leg garbed in white. A splatter of blood on the edge of the hole told Osmond all he needed to know. Whatever came up through the floor had grabbed Davis and lifted him into the air before dragging him back down and his leg got caught on the edge of the hole. He was apparently pulled down fast and hard enough to tear his leg right off.
A loud scraping caught his attention. He looked over in time to see a long, metal dining table that had been teetering on the edge tumble into the gaping hole. Osmond listened, wondering how deep the chasm was, but after listening for a long while, he heard no sound of impact.
He turned at the sound of voices and footsteps. Other marines in the base had been drawn by the noise. Osmond wondered where they had been earlier when the power had gone out.
They stopped and stared at the huge cavity with looks of confusion and astonishment.
One marine, Private Morley, cautiously walked towards the hole, stepping over tipped chairs as he went.
"Morley, what are you doing? Get away from there!" yelled Osmond.
The marine paid him no heed and leaned forward slightly to look down into the hole. Deep inside, there was thick smoke, illuminated from below by a flickering deep red light.
"Marine," said Osmond, slowly, "Get your ass back here, right now!"
Seeming to hear the Captain for the first time, Morley looked over his shoulder. He made to turn, but a blast of hot air sent him and the others assembled to the floor. They coughed as it brought up the stench of decay.
Osmond looked over at Morley, who was picking himself up from where he had landed between two chairs.
Behind him, a huge creature, almost as wide as the hole itself, reared up. Just as Osmond had imagined, a worm-like monstrosity had been below the mess hall. As he stared at the creature, with its horrible dark grey hide and long, yellow fangs, all the strength went out of him. He lay on the ground and watched in horror as it flashed down and caught Morley in its salivating mouth. It rose up, carrying the screaming marine with it, raised its head to face the ceiling and quickly retreated back down the hole.
A few seconds of stunned silence passed, and then three creatures, all with mottled, spike-riddled black skin and arched backs lined with a Mohawk of white hair, crawled out of the huge hole, their mandibles clicking. Their spindly, bony legs only added to their repulsiveness. All three of them moved slowly, their arched backs rising and falling with each deep breath they took.
"What are those things?" asked one marine.
"I don't know," said Osmond, "Just don't make any sudden movements."
The marines backed away slowly and in turn, the creatures advanced slowly. Osmond raised his sidearm at the lead creature and looked around briefly as he sensed movement on either side. Of the eight remaining marines who came running, only three had had the presence of mind to bring their own sidearms with them.
"Those of you who haven't got any weapons, very slowly get out of here and find some."
There was a sound of shuffling behind him. Osmond saw one of the creatures climb like a spider over a table lying on its side. However, it wasn't looking at him, it was looking past him at the marines who were slowly moving towards the door.
It cocked its head and leapt. Osmond whipped his pistol around and fired, but he had pulled the trigger too early and the bullet uselessly smacked into the far wall. The other marines quickly fled and the creature hissed.
Two of the armed marines took aim and began firing. Osmond joined the attack and the creature flinched under the barrage of bullets, its vile form being pushed back by the force. Coarse, foul-smelling dark red blood flew from it and splattered wetly on the walls and floor.
"Guys!" cried the third marine.
The creature collapsed and they turned. The third marine was backing up, switching his aim rapidly between the two advancing monsters.
Osmond tapped the marine nearest him on the shoulder, "You and me, we'll take this one," he said, pointing his chin towards one creature, "you guys take the other one."
"Yes, sir!" answered the marines.
Osmond and the other marine, Corporal Gregson, aimed their weapons and fired. Several shots rang out, mixed with the angry hisses and squeals of the beasts.
Soon, both of the black, spike-riddled creatures lay in a pool of thick blood. No sooner had the marines lowered their weapons than four more abominations clambered swiftly out of the hole. Tackling the previous three had taken most of the marines' ammunition and the four of them couldn't handle more of those terrors with what little they had left. Moving quickly, they left the mess hall.
The door hissed shut and Captain Osmond's finger hovered over the numerical keypad lock as he frantically tried to remember the code to activate the locking mechanism.
Come on, come on! It's… damn, what is it?
Then he remembered and entered the four-digit code. The door started to open just as he pressed the final digit. There was a short beep and the door closed. A solid thunk was heard as the lock engaged.
There were several angry hisses and thumps from behind the door as the creatures, whatever they were, realised they had been sealed in.
"Alright, let's move," said Osmond and led the small group to the armoury.
The armoury was just in sight when the other marines came out, two armed with MA5C assault rifles and the other three with M90A shotguns.
"What happened, sir? Did you get them?" asked a marine with jet-black hair.
"Yeah, but more appeared. Four of them," replied Osmond.
"Four? Well, let's get 'em!" said the black-haired marine.
"Of course. Let us get armed, first. We're almost out of ammo."
Osmond led the marines towards the mess hall, an MA5C in his hands. When they reached it, they heard no sounds from within.
Slowly, Osmond put his ear to the locked door. It was completely silent, but he had expected that. The thought that the creatures had retreated back down their hole entered his mind, but he dismissed it. That would be too good to be true. They were in there, waiting. Maybe more of them had appeared. That was a likely possibility, and with the size of the mess hall, any number of those nightmares could be sitting silently, ready to attack at a moment's notice.
Osmond didn't like this thought much, but it was most probable. Moving to one side, he entered the first three digits of the door's code, pausing at the last one. He looked at the marines. They nodded and raised their weapons. Pressing the last digit, Osmond quickly back-pedalled; making his injured calf muscles ache. The door made a thunk-click and was unlocked. It remained closed, however. Nothing came screaming out of the mess hall at them.
Osmond cautiously moved forward and started moving back again when the door opened as he neared. Again, no monstrosities attacked. From his vantage point, he could see nothing. He moved ever so slowly forwards, tensed for action.
He stepped fully in and made a fast sweep of the room with his rifle. Empty, at least as far as he could see. He motioned the other marines to follow him in. They moved in swiftly, flanking him on either side.
They all stayed at their positions near the door. Nobody felt comfortable stepping any further in, but turning and walking away simply wasn't an option.
There was a sound above them.
Damn it, the ceilings! thought Osmond. He had looked everywhere except the ceilings. When they had been fighting the Covenant, he regularly checked above him for Drones, but this wasn't the Covenant he was up against – at least he hoped it wasn't – and so the thought never occurred to him.
Several heavy weights dropped down behind him, accompanied by screams of pain. He turned and saw the four beasts, their claws ripping deeply into the bodies of four marines, two of them the Shotgun-wielders.
The creatures looked up at the five humans surrounding them. The marines never let them get any further. Rifle fire started up, the rounds tearing into the monstrosities. The combined firepower made short work of the creatures; it was over in a matter of seconds.
Lowering his weapon, Osmond turned towards the hole in time to see six more of the creatures clambering out.
"Shii-iit! Everyone out!"
They did so, firing as they retreated, regretfully leaving their comrades' bodies behind at the mercy of the fiends that seemed to never stop coming.
Osmond didn't struggle with the code, this time. He quickly made sure everyone still alive was out and quickly locked the door, again.
He put a hand over his face and sighed heavily, head lowered.
That was pointless… shouldn't have went in there, shouldn't have went back in…
But they had. Now, four more good men were dead. Killed by an unknown enemy that kept coming.
Whatever's down there just keeps churning those bastards out…
There was a heavy thump at the door, followed by metal screeches. The marines levelled their weapons. Osmond hoped that the creatures' claws weren't sharp enough to cut through the door. Even if they were, the door was pretty thick; it would take them a while to cut through.
The screeching stopped along with the thumping. The Captain hoped that meant they were unable to get through. But that didn't change the fact that those things were there.
They would need a hell of a lot of help to stop this invasion.
"That is understood, Captain," said Major Harland, "You've heard about Fire Bases Alpha Tango Omega and Bravo Foxtrot, right?"
"Yes, sir."
He had heard about them. Those bases apparently got covered in some sort of black ooze that they then sank into.
"Well we've had reports from a couple of the survivors from those bases who said they saw something similar to the creatures you're describing."
"Are you saying those things are responsible for entire buildings disappearing?"
"We don't know, but it seems likely."
"Well, we can't let that happen to this base. You know how important it is."
"Yes, I know, Captain. We're sending you reinforcements. Don't let those creatures overtake the base."
"Thank you, sir. You know about the pentagram outside the base, too, right?"
"Yes. Don't bother asking; we have no idea where it came from or what it means. All we've seen from satellite images is that there's some kind of new image inside the pentagram, itself. Looks like a goat's head. Ignore it, for now. Is there anything else?"
"No, sir. Osmond out."
An hour later, a Pelican approached the base.
Captain Osmond stood outside with two other marines, watching it glide closer. It took great effort not to look over at the glowing pentagram.
"Just one bird? We need about ten!" he said, his arms folded.
The Pelican's thrusters rotated and the craft slowed, its nose lifting briefly. It hovered for a moment as the landing gear lowered, and then swiftly landed, turning one-hundred-and-eighty degrees as it did so.
The engines died down and Osmond waited for the bay door to open and the detachment of marine reinforcements – the small detachment, thought Osmond – to troop out and report for duty.
The hatch began to lower. Osmond couldn't clearly see the occupants in the dim red light inside the bay. There were only two silhouettes that he could make out, but there was something strange about them.
What is this? Two?
The orange-red light from the pentagram lit one of the two passengers and Osmond sucked in his breath. He wasn't sure if he was seeing right. To him, it looked like a Spartan.
The large figure stepped out and came into clear view as the base's exterior lights made it fully visible.
It was a Spartan.
The other occupant, an Elite, dressed in what looked like silver ceremonial armour, fell in next to it.
In an almost instantaneous movement, the Spartan saluted, "Captain Osmond. Spartan-117 reporting."
Osmond, regaining his composure, cleared his throat, "At ease, soldier."
The Spartan's arm moved from a salute to his side so quickly that Osmond wondered for a second if the metal giant had been saluting at all.
"So, who's your friend?" the Captain asked, looking over at the Elite who towered over even the Spartan.
"I am the Arbiter," it said simply.
"Arbiter? Alright," said Osmond. He had heard of the Arbiter, but had never seen him, before. The Elite continued to look at him and Osmond turned his gaze away quickly. He found it unnerving enough having an Elite look at him with its full-body armour on, but with this Elite's armour, he could see its large, orange eyes.
"So," he said, turning back to the armoured super soldier, "Spartan-117, is it? You're the Master Chief, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, good to finally meet you, Chief. With you here, I think we can deal with this problem."
"We will deal with it, sir. Do you have any more information on that pentagram?"
Osmond looked over at it, "No, Chief. Just that there's an image of a goat's head inside it. But we've been told to ignore it. It's real hard to, though. Let's get inside."
"Yes, sir."
The Chief, the Arbiter and the two marines followed Osmond towards the base.
"Spartan, what is a pentagram?" asked the Arbiter.
"It's a five-sided star. Depending on what religion or group you follow, it has a different meaning. That one has a goat's head inside it, apparently. Sounds like a Satanic pentagram."
"Satanic?"
"A group who worship an evil spirit," the Chief looked at the Elite, "a demon, in other words."
The Elite gave a knowing smile, "As we called you."
"Marines, anything to report?" asked Osmond.
"No, s— is that a Spartan?" replied a brown-haired marine, his eyes widening at the sight of the Master Chief.
"Yes, it is. Now, anything to report?"
"Uh… no, sir. Those things haven't made a sound since you left. Um…"
"Yes, we also have an Elite," said Osmond, seeing the marine's eyes lock onto the long-necked alien.
The Arbiter made a small sound.
"A… a Sang… Sangilee," Osmond attempted to correct himself, stumbling over the odd alien word.
"Sangheili," said the Arbiter, coolly.
"Right, right. Sorry," the Captain turned his attention back to the matter at hand, "So nothing's happened, so far?"
"That's right, sir," replied the brown-haired marine, "It's been quiet. Too quiet."
The Master Chief stepped forward, "Sir, do you mind if I have a listen, myself?"
"Go ahead, Chief."
The Spartan walked up to the locked mess hall door and put his ear to it.
"You hear anything, sir?" asked a young marine.
The Chief looked at him, "Not if you're talking, no."
"Sorry, sir," the marine apologised.
Turning his ear back to the door, Chief listened for a few moments, then turned towards Osmond, "Captain, there's definitely something in there. It was faint, but I could hear something."
"Great," Osmond rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
"Sir," said the Master Chief, "If you're tired, you and your men should get some sleep. We'll take over."
Osmond looked at the Chief and the Arbiter then at his marines, who seemed to be subtly pleading with him to accept with their eyes. Osmond's aching muscles and injured calf joined with their own silent voices.
"Yeah… yeah, alright, Chief. Although I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep after what's happened, tonight."
"Don't worry about a thing, sir."
"I appreciate it, Chief," Osmond turned to his marines, "Alright, marines, back to your bunks."
The marines acknowledged him with a slightly out of synch group of 'Yes, sirs' and weary salutes.
Before heading back to his bunk, Osmond turned to the Chief, "If anything changes, even slightly, let me know, Chief."
"Understood, sir," the Chief nodded.
Hoping nothing would change, apart from their unwelcome guests leaving, Osmond headed to his bunk, his weary muscles making him feel as if he could happily crash out on the floor.
How would that look? thought Osmond with a small, tired smile.
With relief he reached the door to his room. He felt like he had been walking forever.
Not bothering to even take his boots off, the Captain climbed onto his bunk and collapsed into the sheets, which had never seemed softer. After the day's exhausting events, he was able to drift off within moments.
Outside, the pentagram with the goat's head glowed brighter. An outer ring appeared around the five-pointed star in a ring of flame, as though someone had ignited an oil slick.
The fire died down and the pentagram dimmed to its former brightness, the air around it waving in the heat.
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