The World of The Gunny

The Wasted World of Gunnery Sergeant DeShane
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 Post subject: Derelict
PostPosted: 30 Dec 2005 23:24 
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"Sir, we're picking up an unidentified ship on scanners, and it hasn't been responding to any of our attempts to hail her. Looks to be an Earth ship, judging from what we can tell." Lieutenant Commander Tevades of the Earth Navy reported.

"Put it on the primary viewscreen," Captain Prott ordered. Complying to the order, the officer tapped in a set of commands, and the ship, roughly the size of an America Class Battleship, popped up onscreen. The California came about and moved closer to better see the unresponsive vessel. Studying the screen Captain Prott commented, "It's almost definitely ours, I'd guess it's the Bangkok, it was lost in this area several weeks ago. Continue the hailing messages, but prepare a boarding team, we'll cut our cruise short and bring her back."

"What staff do you want to comprimise the boarding party?"

"We'll need a captain, navigator, and four or five engineers who could fix any general problem with the engines. Fill out the rest of the group with a platoon of Marines."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Corporal Peters was less than enthusiastic about the current assignment. "Goddammit! Out of all the platoons on this ship, all the platoons in the Corps, why in the hell do we always get the shit jobs!? Last time it was security duty on that scow to some shithole of a planet, now babysitting for some squids while they figure out how to get an abandoned ship moving again. I mean--"

"Shut it!" Sergeant Hound bellowed. "Look at it this way Peters--we've gotten some easy jobs lately, and it'll let the new guys train in reasonably safe live operations. So quit yer bitchin' and get your gear."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gravity in the ship shut off as the shuttle launched, and everything and everyone not secured to the deck started floating. The shuttle's engines powered up and it blasted out of the welldeck, hurtling towards the Bangkok. The ship's shields had been deactivated by a pulse from the Minneapolis.

As the shuttle decelerated and locked in the welldeck of the Bangkok the doors automatically closed behind them, and atmosphere was pumped back in.

"At least some of the automated systems are working" Ensign Mulhoon muttered. As the shuttle doors opened the men's eyes widened, some jaws dropped. The floor was covered in blood and bodies. The walls were pocked with holes and burns, presumably from the weapons that lay by the corpses. The Marines assumed positions around the space, pouring out of the shuttle. Sergeant Hound looked at his Marines, back at the shuttle, then at the bodies.

"What the hell happened here?"

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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PostPosted: 02 Jan 2006 23:06 
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The bodies were in a further state of decomposition than logic said they should be, but the causes of death were relatively obvious, though they shed no light on what the Marines could be facing. Some bodies had been cut by what were probably combat knives, others shot, and some were...different. They looked like they had been attacked by an animal or something, they looked, to a certain extent, eaten.

Lieutenant Townes swallowed to stop whatever was working its way up his throat and managed to say, "We've still got a job to do here, first squad, you're on point, we need to take control of the ship."

The men moved out, and every slight creak or sigh from the metal almost started a jumpy Marine's gun. A high pitched bing! from an elevator drew the attention of every man in second squad. The doors slid open to reveal an empty cab.

As a fire team crept forward to examine the interior the hatch on the top buckled and a wave of bodies poured through. The stench that hit the Marines was overwhelming, and most of them turned off the "nose" on thier armor, and took a deep breath of the semi-fresh air.

Corporal Harp and his men moved into the cab, cautiously stepping around the corpses piled at thier feet. Casting his flashlight into the hole above, he thought he saw some movement. Drawing his pistol he clambered up, getting his shoulders and head into the empty elevator shaft.

Well, nearly empty.

When he turned to the left, he saw what had moved in the shaft. He tried to bring his gun to bear on it, but it moved too fast. The rest of the squad stood helpless as they heard his bloodcurdling screams as he kicked and thrashed, before being drawn up into the shaft. Blood started dripping down into the cab, first a crimson rivulet then a scarlet course.

"We can't do anything for him, we need to keep moving." Townes called.

When they reached the bridge they were gratified to see that something still worked, as the lights and viewscreens came on. On the primary viewscreen was the California. The techs were just moving to the consoles when they saw a quartet of plasma beams fire towards the ship, and the California dissapeared in a flash.

The room went silent, except for Corporal Peters, who let out a long and heartfelt explative.

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: 09 Jan 2006 23:09 
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Joined: 25 Aug 2005 09:47
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Breaking the silence, Technician First Class Lincoln said, "There's no control here. None of these controls do anything now. There are no obvious rewires that I can see, I'll have to open it up, but I don't think I'll find anything that any of us can figure out. They sent actual techs for the engines, but only bridge crew for up here."

Lieutenant Townes shook himself back into reality, upon hearing the news. "Okay, first squad to Security Station Alpha, second, Beta, third, your guys stay on the bridge. Guns, I'm splitting you up, one team with each squad. Find anything that may be useful, and for God's sake, be careful."

PFC Briggs eyed the corridor outside the bridge warily. There was only one approach, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving his back exposed. The other men in his fireteam seemed to share his concern. The entire hallway was brightly lit, but that did nothing to assuage thier anxiety. Just as that thought entered his head he was plunged into darkness.

The night vision setting in thier helmets responded automatically, bathing the area in an eery lime glow. "Who the hell did that!?" Townes demanded over the radio. One by one each fire team and squad called in, saying they had no idea what had triggered it.

The lights turned back on again, at such a brilliant level that the night vision functions on most of the Marine's armor shorted. Even as they blinked to clear thier vision the display continued for several minutes, until everyone's night-vision was disabled. I guess this is what happens when your equipment is made by the lowest bidder Briggs mused.

Everyone activated thier external lights, on both thier weapons and armor, which helped a little. Shadows seemed to dart in and out of the light, but was it real or imagined? The impenetrable ebony shroud defeated his flashlight, allowing him to see but a few meters into the obsidian gloom. There it is again! But again, was it fear? Fiction? Fantasy? Fact?

The shades continued thier frenzied flurry of activity, as the voice of Sergeant Hound came over the radio. "Contact, hostile contact! Outside Sec Alpha, God, there are dozens of them, we need some reinforcements! We're pulling back to the bridge!"

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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 Post subject: Sergeant Hound
PostPosted: 12 Jan 2006 16:40 
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Sergeant Hound and his men had been moving swiftly from the bridge to Sec Station Alpha when the lights went out. "Dammit!" he swore, as his night vision shorted. Damping down the optics on his armor, he was able to ride out the remaining flashes, and turned his external lights on when the show was over.

They saw plenty of blood on the way, but almost no bodies, something that worried the men. They were almost at Security Station Alpha when they heard noises that sounded almost like scratching coming from down the hall. Sending a fireteam forward, the rest of the squad prepared to engage. The men came back--nothing.

Inside the station, predictibly, the lights were off and the terminals dead. "Am I the only one not getting this?" Peters inquired, "The power's fuckin off, how are we supposed to do anything here?"

"Shutup Peters" Hound ordered.

"All I'm sayin' sarge is that--"

"SHUTUP! Listen."

The men stopped and turned up the ears on their armor. Whatever it was was getting louder. The shadows started playing the same game they had outside the bridge.

"Get ready, move to defend the doorways."

The men took up positions as the cieling behind them collapsed and the doors flew open. Things unlike anything Hound had ever seen before were attacking from all directions. They were similar in size and shape to humans, but that was where the resemblance ended.

They had two arms, each of which with three clawed fingers on them. They moved hunched over, but with surprising speed and agility, far greater than a normal man's. Thier skin looked smooth, amphibian, a mottled red and brown. Their eyes a shiny black, like polished volcanic glass.

"What the hell are these things sarge!?" Peters shouted over the sharp hiss-cracks of their plasma rifles.

"I don't know dammit, keep shooting!"

One of the creatures lunged at Hound, it's weight toppled him and they landed on the deck, the thing on top. He held its arms away from him, but it kept snapping its jaw, trying to bite him. A glob of salvia dripped from its mouth onto his armor just as a Marine blew its head off. Viscous blood, a dark green, painted the deck. Gaining his feet he ordered the Marines to move back to the bridge.

"Contact, hostile contact! Outside Sec Alpha, God, there are dozens of them, we need some reinforcements! We're pulling back to the bridge!"

The Marines began backpedaling towards the bridge, as the acid in the monster's saliva ate its way through Hound's armor, and into his shoulder. The burning was intense, and just when he thought he'd black out the armor's medical systems engaged, neutralizing the acid and starting to seal the wound. Moving as fast as he could, he kept going.

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: 22 Jan 2006 23:09 
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Joined: 25 Aug 2005 09:47
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"SHIT SARGE, THEY'RE IN FRONT OF US TOO!!!" Gunfire rang out from both sides of Sergeant Hound. "First and second fire team, get the bastards in the front, third and fourth, the rear." He threw his gun into his uninjured shoulder and cracked off a shot, knocking one creature off its feet and onto its back. Even as he watched it stood back up and rejoined its comrades, with a hole the size of a dinner plate blown out of its side. This time he aimed better, and took off its head. The body kept moving a few steps before falling, where it lay still.

The gun team managed to get thier plasma cannon into position and raked lethal energy across the front of the creatures, burning them to cinders. Another gun started firing, from behind the line of monsters. Third squad's gun team had arrived. With the added fire the men were able to punch through and get back to the bridge, all the while fighting the creatures behind them.

The battle raged for several minutes before the surviving creatures ran off back into the ship. The men were reloading and the gun team was swapping for fresh barrels while Hound filled in Townes on what had happened.

Another call came in over the radio from Sergeant Olridge, commander of second squad. "Sir...are any of the Navy personnel bioligists?" Townes blinked, puzzled at the odd question. Then he looked to the Navy men, one of whom raised a hand.

"I have a Ph.D. in Biology, as well as my engineering degree, sir."

"Yes Olridge, there is one, why?"

"You oughta send him sir...this is some pretty weird shit."

"What is it sergeant?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is it completely covers Security Station Beta Sir."

"He's on his way sergeant." Turning to Hound he said, "Are you up to taking him there?"


Sergeant Olridge and second squad moved cautiously down the dark corridors on the way to Security Station Beta. Nothing jumped out of the shadows at them, and that was always good. The dull thud-scrape of his men's armored boots on the floor was the only sound he heard most of the trip. Immediately outside the door he heard the excited transmissions from first squad. His men were extra careful in clearing the hall before gathering outside the door. The door slid open and the first man ran to the doorway and stopped.

"What the hell's the holdup Campbell?" Olridge demanded.

"Sir...you should see this."

Muscling the younger man from the doorway Olridge looked into the station. The entire surface was covered with a grayish red...mass. The walls were coated with a thick layer, and the doors were granted a thin film. A carpet that seemed to be several inches thick of it was on the floor. Grabbing his radio he said, "Sir...are any of the Navy personnel bioligists?"

A brief pause followed, then, "Yes Olridge, there is one, why?"

"You oughta send him sir...this is some pretty weird shit."

"What is it sergeant?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is it completely covers Security Station Beta Sir."

"He's on his way sergeant."

Sergeant Hound and his men headed out into the ship once more, with even less men than before. After the attack their gun team had been ordered to remain on the bridge, in case of another wave. Luckily the trip was uneventful, and they made it to the station without incident.

While the squid collected his samples the Marines took positions in the room. The biomass was spongey but firm, and it held them.

The Navy man stood and said, "We'll need to get to the med labs if you really expect me to be able to do anything with this."

Hound said, "I'll have to check, wait one." Grabbing his radio he contacted Lieutenant Townes. "Sir, the Navy tech says we need to get to the med lab before he can do anything with the samples he's collected. Permission to go there sir?"

Gunfire cut in over the radio, and Townes yelled, "Ne----------geant, get your men ------------idge immediately, the bastards ---- ming in waves! We ------- imme--------. Repeat, retu-------- bridge!"

The men set off double time towards the bridge when something new leapt out of the darkness.

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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 Post subject:
PostPosted: 19 Apr 2006 22:54 
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Joined: 25 Aug 2005 09:47
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Death. That’s what the newcomer was. With a single blow it swept two of the Marines away, sending them crashing into the opposite wall. Three more were lost before it went down, after the entire squad turned its attention to the creature. Unlike the other beast, it didn’t bother with being agile or stealthy. Several feet taller than its cousin, it was a mass of rippling muscle. It seemed to lack the enormity required for its immense power, as its musculature seemed to be very compact, albeit incredibly strong.

After it went down the smaller creatures scattered, and they were able to make their way to the bridge easily. On the command deck they arrived to see a lone navy tech and four Marines left alive, the rest obviously dead. “Who’s the ranking man here?” Hound asked. The three Marines looked at each other, then at him.

“You sir. The other NCO’s and officers were killed in the fight.”

Suppressing a grimace, Hound surveyed the bridge.

“Fuck.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

A display in the communications room flickered to life. The “headquarters” of the surviving humans onboard, Security Station Alpha was the only place the biogrowth seemingly had not reached. In his more paranoid moments, Hound would have sworn that it was intentional. No one had been killed in two weeks, no one had even seen any other life, but the biogrowth continued to spread. Whenever they went anywhere other than the galley it seemed to simultaneously grow up from the floor and collapse from the ceiling to form an impregnable barrier. Was it keeping them in, or keeping the creatures out?

None of this was at the forefront of Hound’s mind when he moved to the screen. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime he saw a new face. An Earth officer was on the screen. “Repeat, anyone aboard the ESS Bangkok respond.”

Hound activated the station’s audio and video linkups. “This is Sergeant Hound, EMC, commander of Earth forces aboard the Bangkok.”

“Sergeant, this is Admiral Stanton of the ESS Cologne, we’re here investigating the disappearance of the California. What is the status of your ship, sergeant, and why are you the commander there?”

“The California was destroyed by this ship while we were aboard sir, the rest of my unit was killed. There are seven of us holed up in a security station. The ship is under control of non-human hostiles. I recommend you remove your ship from the range of the Bangkok’s weapons systems, we have no control over shipboard activities.”

“Remove ourselves from the range of the Bangkok’s weaponry? Son, there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. We have three full regiments of Marines aboard, and are outfitted for a hostile boarding action. We intend to land.”

(I know it's short, but it's active again, and that's what matters. Expect more soon)

_________________
"Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors."


“For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.”

"The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can't help it."

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

www.shallowbay.com Best. Band. Ever.


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