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Desperate Plea (Pt. 2)
Posted By: Dexdiman
Date: 17 August 2004, 4:09 AM
Read/Post Comments
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PLEASE READ COMMENTS FIRST
"Enemy inbound, enemy inbound." the computer states.
"How many?" Marco asks the computer. The computer quickly hesitates then responds.
"Approximately 10 Fighters are on an intercepting course..."
The computer was interrupted by an incoming enemy transmission.
"Arrrg un tar wart wart mow to nun..." The computer begins translating.
"No ships are permitted to leave Nexus. You will be killed for violating our invasion law."
"Computer," Marco demands, "evasive action, Beta 6"
Johnson turns and yells out the cockpit,
"Boys, enemy fighters coming this way. Hang on we're doing evasive action."
Marco 311's engines burn at maximum power as the ship flips and drops back into the atmosphere.
A thought flashes through Johnson's mind. Why would they send so many ships to a poorly protected planet? This planet wouldn't give them any tactical advantage. There was no tactic to their attack. And why would they even send troops down when they could destroy the whole planet from space? They have enough ships. Any way I need to focus on the mission. Johnson's mind flips back into reality.
Marco 311 breaks through the atmosphere.
"Seven ships didn't follow us through the atmosphere." Marco says with a sigh.
"Don't be relieved yet, there are still three fighters left." Johnson tells Marco.
"Computer," Marco commands, "continue evasive action, Beta 6"
Johnson walks to the aft of the ship. He runs into walls and falls to the ground from the force of the violently maneuvering ship. He reaches the aft cargo bay and yells,
"Martinez, Poplin, Frankie, and Jones come here now."
"Sir, yes, sir," the marines sternly respond.
"Frankie, Jones, man the rear gun. Martinez, take the gun above us, and Poplin, the gun below us. Quickly, our lives depend upon it!"
"Yes, sir." They firmly respond with a crisp salute.
"Proximity alert, proximity alert." The computer screams with monotone voice in Marco's cockpit.
Missiles. Marco thinks to himself.
"Three missiles have locked on and are on a direct course." The computer states.
"Computer," Marco quickly responds, "cancel Beta 6, engage manual controls, and deploy chaff on my mark."
The computer rings a little chime, acknowledging Marco's command. Marco turns on the cargo speaker and tells the marines too hang on tight.
"Mark!" Marco screams at the computer as he thrusts the control stick down and to the right. The chaff deploys and Marco 311 swoops down and flies straight towards the enemy fighters. One of the missiles was not destroyed and begins to follow Marco again. Marco cranks his engines to full power as he flies through the enemy's formation at the speed of sound. The missile loses control as it flies through the shock wave and into an enemy fighter. The other two fighters begin close pursuit. Bullets rain down on the fighters as they break formation and fly about the sky trying not to be hit, but something happened that no mortal would do, the fighters turned and flew directly into the shower of bullets, firing back. The fighters penetrated Marco's hull destroying his main engines. Then Marco 311 drops from the sky with no sort of propulsion as the fighters break off their attack and head into space.
"Report." Johnson yells
"We can't land," Marco yells back, "autopilot is gone and manual controls are barely responding. The computer is also having trouble calculating our speed and trajectory."
"Get ready for a fast drop," Johnson tells his squad." and suck it up, we're landing hard."
The ship's hull raddled and shacked as the ship fell apart. Marco brought what was left of the ship's control flaps into position to help slow their decent. The deceleration forced the team to grab a handhold just as a sonic boom ripped through the ship as its velocity dropped under mach 1. The sudden deceleration and intense g-forces of the out-of-control ship kills Marco.
"Forget about the ship." Johnson screams over the noise of the falling ship. "Everybody come here."
The ship groaned and raddled from the stress—and creaked as the ship shuddered and flexed. A marine set his hand on the wall, and tried to will the ship to hold together a bit longer. But it didn't work. Time was running out.
"There's no more time." Johnson franticly yells, "We need to get out of here. Jump, go, go, go!
The rest of the marines crawl aft, while they fight the g-forces of the out-of-control ship and jump with no parachute. The marines fall toward the planet faster than the speed of sound. Commander Johnson calls all available marines to his location, over the intercom, and orders:
"Look there."
On all the marines helmets an arrow appears on their heads up display pointing to an open field.
"That's an enemy camp," Johnson tells, "we need to miss that by at least 100km"
"Well," a marine quickly responds, "we are about 92.67km away now."
"Good," Johnson replies, "now carry out my orders."
"Yes, sir." Twenty ready marines said.
Johnson flips out of reality for a second and thinks. How can I get us out alive? I could try... no. What about...? No. Oh, I know. His mind remembers his high altitude training and he formulates a plan. His concentration was broken by a startling transmission.
"Commander," a marine yells, "the ground is coming fast, ETA 28 seconds.
Johnson pulls out, from his battle suit, a tiny bullet size cartridge of ballistics gel. He then takes a bullet out of his clip, removes the tip of the bullet and fastens the capsule to the bullet cartridge and slams his bullet into the chamber of the gun.
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