The Cosmonaut Chronicles

By: Steel Striker

Prologue: Mayday

Location: Space Shuttle, Somewhere in the Lower Thermosphere, Earth’s Outer Atmosphere, Earth
Date: 19 November 2021
Time: 23:32:14 International Space Time
Objective: Link up with I.S.S. for refuel; Take inventory of ballistics experiment materials

I look myself over one last time before I brush my teeth and stop hogging up the bathroom. My arms and legs were bulky and powerful. Tattoos were scattered across my upper body, matched on my left leg by a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike. Don’t tread on me! My torso is the selling point though, definite abs and proportionate build. The training that I went through made U.S. Navy SEAL training look like daycare.

“(Hey Alexi! Are you done in there yet?),” my friend and comrade, Yuri asked/yelled at me in Russian.

My toothbrush kept getting caught on my more than prominent canines. “(Yeah, I'm just about to get out! Why?!?)” I yelled back. Launch in T-Minus 5…4…3…2…1…Ignition…

“(I thought I told you pricks to stop shouting!!)” Kamarov screams at both of us. Liftoff! We have Liftoff!

And this is where the insults start to fly around like MiG Fighters. I wonder how the Americans are going to deal with us. They’ll be stuck with us for a whole six-to-eight months.

Oh, how rude of me. My name is Alexi Vadim Makarov. I’m ex-Spetsnaz, I can lift objects twice my body mass, run twice as fast as the average infantryman, and can kill a man with one hand while defusing a bomb with the other. My teeth, along with my blood red eyes, would give Stephenie Meyer a nightmare. I'm a real fucking vampire.

Also, I am currently on a shuttle that is headed towards the moon. Yeah, you read that right: that goddamned nightlight in the sky!

You see, the United States had built a fully operational base there in 2018, but had only started to station their “astronauts” there in January of 2020. Then, by the power of the “Outer Space Treaty” (yes, the ancient sheet of paper from 1967), all of the countries of the United Nations gained access to Moon Base Alpha by June of 2021. Now, you must be thinking: “This guy must be a physicist/chemist/botanist or something!” Not even close, I’m actually an expert marksman who can shoot rifles accurately upside down or at any other angle. Hell, I didn’t even go to school a single day in my life! (Unless you count the Gulag that I spent my entire childhood in.) Back in my home in the Siberian Wasteland, any learning I got came from either cleaning my collection of over 200 firearms and weapons from around the world, owning n00bs on Call of Duty, or surviving endless hordes of the undead on Zombies Mode.

Now, “Why did they send you on that outer space mission if you weren’t even a scientist?” Well, from what they told me, it’s because, lack of book learning aside, I am able calculate the exterior ballistics of a .338 Lapua Magnum heading towards a target that is 2.5 kilometers from the rifle. And that’s on a rainy day!

Also, “How are the scientists going to be able to understand you if you’re Russian?” Well, when I was in that hell camp, my “instructor” taught me to speak Russian as my primary language. About midway through my teaching, we received a Scottish, a German and an American to work with us. They always seemed to get themselves into trouble, and were constantly being beat into submission. During our breaks, I would sneak them food and water while the guards weren’t looking. In return; they taught me English (well, Scottish-English and American/English actually), German, hand-to-hand combat and the art of stealth. That last one is pretty handy when you’re sneaking food to the three most hated men in the “prison”. I was often put with the women in the camp to help them with their work as well, considering my status in the Gulag. God, I miss them all already.

“Ey Makarov!” I had gotten lost in my thoughts until Kamarov’s shout had snapped me back to reality.

“Da?”

“(We’re about to reach International Space Station for refuel and we need to take inventory of our equipment. Can you get the firearms and ammo?)”

“(Yeah, I’ll get right on it!)”

I was left in charge of checking the weapons and ammo (as that is my field of expertise). It requires a lot of concentration, but it does help that I have an A.I. that is like my personal helper. But, he’s kind of an asshole.

“Epsilon,” I beckoned to my computerized companion (unfortunately, the guy's an asshole).

“*yawn* Yeah? What do you want?” he replies in his iconic, ultra-realistic voice.

“I need you to take inventory. What weapons and sights are we packing, and how much ammo do we have for each one?”

“Ah, let’s see. Yeah, m-hmm, m-hmm. We are currently carrying an Mk. 14 EBR, an FN-SCAR Mk. 20 SSR, an AWM L115A3, an M82A1 AMR, a Remington MSR, an M4A1 with SOPMOD attachments, a Kalashnikov AK-47 and AK-74u, two suppressed Kriss Vector CQBs, a suppressed UMP-45, a suppressed H&K MP5K, a Kel-Tec KSG-12, a Benelli M1014, an 8-gauge Chiappa Triple Crown, your personal Desert Eagles and AMT AutoMag Vs, two AN/PVS-14 MNVD sights, two ACOGs, three EOTech 553 Holo sights, three variable zoom scopes, sound suppressors for the various calibers that we are carrying and enough ammunition to last us for two zombie apocalypses.”

“Would it have killed them to pack more Russian arms? But still, talk about armed to the-…”

I was cut off by the sound of the airlock hissing. It should only do that when someone is taking the……oh crap.

“Epsilon, was that the escape pod?”

“Uh, yeah. Wh…oh no.”

I floated to the control console to see a lot of flashing red lights. Usually, red and flashing is not good. At least, that’s what I got out of my training course.

“Epsilon, what’s going on?”

“Looks like the shuttle’s self destruction sequence has been activated. Access code: Yankee-Kilo-Five-Niner-Delta”

I sigh, “Dammit, Yuri. Why did you do this to me?”

“30 seconds to self-destruct.” Says the shuttles computer.

New Objective: GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!!!

“Epsilon, what options do we have?”

“Either we take it like champs and die, or we put ourselves in the giant crate of equipment with the possibility of landing safely on Earth.”

“Estimated trajectory and landing coordinates?”

“With corrections from the shuttle’s angle, we should be landing somewhere in the Black Forest. Estimated chances of survival are 33.3%.”

Not many good options to choose from, are there?

“15 seconds to self-destruct.”

Fuck this. “Equipment crate it is then.”

Hypothetically, the Mk. IV Heavy-Duty Equipment Crate was designed to withstand a direct hit from a GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb, heat protection from temperatures up to 3100ºF and a failsafe parachute in-case of atmospheric re-entry. The shuttle’s self-destruct blast is approximated to the force of a DRDO Smart Anti-Airfield Weapon. So Epsi and I are really pushing our luck in using the E-Crate to protect us from the blast and the supposed impact. That’s why I put on my space suit on: just in case any holes appear in the crate.

“I hope this works.” I was seriously having my doubts about this plan.

“Five…Four…Three…Two…One.”

I heard the enormous ‘BOOM’ before I felt the shockwave. The various boxes and crates rattled as they strained against their ropes. When I saw that there weren’t any breaches in the crate, and that I was securely strapped in for the ride, I let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly, I heard a snap was knocked unconscious by a flying ammo canister.

Because life hates me like that..

On the the ground below, a young princess looks at the stars above with a focused, concentrated look. As she gazes, she witnesses a large explosion just outside of the thermosphere. As she observes the event, she notices a rapidly falling object heading towards the forest surrounding her town. Then, the thing quickly slows down and seems to float down towards the forest. Panicked, she calls for her assistant to take a letter for her.

Dear Princess Celestia …

Author's Note

First off: This is my first ever fanfic that I have decided to post. A couple of others that I wrote on paper weren’t worthy of this site. Just take my word for it.

Secondly: Several artists and their works inspired me to write this fic. The list is only a few of those: Duelist96, Flammenwerfer, WolfBlood, Kkat, TheIdealist33 and several others that will be listed in the blog.

Thirdly: The next chapter will include Stella Sabre, an OC that is the creation of Flammenwerfer. So there will be Scotisms and cursing and lewd jokes, Oh my!

Fourthly: There will be tons of references to DOOM, Red v. Blue, RWBY, TeamFourStar, classic films and literature (Gone with the Wind, Jekyll and Hyde, tons of others), various fanfic nods, awesome music and EPIC FIGHT SCENES throughout the fic. So, strap in and get comfy.

Lastly: I am open to any suggestions that you lovely readers may have. Post in the comments what you may think. Also, I may include your OCs in the story if you comment those.

Wait, Stella Sabre’s going to be here?

Da, why?

This is going to be fun. Heh-heh.

*in undertone* Oh God, what have I done?

I believe that mistakes have been made on your part.

Hello, Morgan Freeman.

Hello, Mr. Striker.

Mr. Striker was my father. My name is Steel Striker