June 26th, 1953. Chicxulub Crater, Mexico.
Lieutenant Nathan Hale was almost to the core of the Chimera’s flagship. All he had to do was fight his way there and defeat Daedalus. That was the problem. Between him and the core were two Ravagers and a dozen Advanced Hybrids, more than a worthy match for a Sentinel such as himself. He hadn’t yet been spotted, so he snuck into cover near the first Ravager and palmed his last air fuel grenade. I bet your shield won’t save you from this you dumb ugly brute. Hale threw the fire bomb, and it thudded to the ground next to the Ravager and its cadre of Hybrids. The creatures stared curiously at the device as it released its gaseous payload, and were immolated when it ignited. That was the disadvantage of having a high metabolism; fire based weapons were extremely effective against the cooling pack dependent Chimera.
His element of surprise lost, Hale peeked up from cover and noted the second and final Ravager charging him, its shield raised protectively. Hale raised his Marksman and launched an electrostatic drone over the head of the massive Chimera. The Ravager turned to face the drone, and received an ion burst into the base of its skull. The Ravager crumpled soundlessly to the ground, its heavy armor clanging against the floor. Stupid bastard. By this time the Hybrids were in cover, firing their Bullseye rifles at Hale. He sprinted into cover, narrowly avoiding the searing ion projectiles. Hale shouldered his rifle and fired at the head of the Chimera foolish enough to leave cover. The energy projectiles burned a clean hole through the Hybrid’s head. He pulled his last fragmentation grenade from his webbing, pulled the pin, and tossed it so that it would roll behind the cover that the Hybrids were using. He heard a panicked growl, and the three Chimera dashed out of cover as the grenade went off, blowing one cleanly in half at the waist and wounding the other two. Time seemed to slow down for Hale as he aimed through his rifle’s scope and delivered two fatal head shots to the Hybrids.
One of the last three hybrids threw a Hedgehog grenade, the ball landing next to Hale before it rose to waist height, ready to fire off the many spikes protruding from it. Hale vaulted over his cover and pressed himself against the wall. The grenade exploded, sending the piercing spikes flying. Hale narrowly avoided being skewered, but now he was faced with the problem of three angry Hybrids and no cover between them. He launched another drone, the ball of electricity stopping just before the wall the Hybrids were behind, to keep their heads down as he moved forward. He snatched a Hedgehog grenade from one of the dead Hybrids, and positioned himself by the charred and crumpled body of the first Ravager. He threw the grenade just as the drone exploded, and the three Hybrids popped up out of their cover. The three Hybrids rushed out of cover to avoid the grenade, and Hale fired off two bursts before his magazine was expended. How did I forget to reload before I got here?! The final Hybrid, sensing Hale’s predicament and enraged by the loss of its comrades, tossed aside its Bullseye and charged Hale, fangs barred, rage overriding logic. Hale cursed, slung his Marksman, drew his Fairbairn-Sykes, and prepared for a tough fight.
The Hybrid lunged for him, and succeeded in grabbing Hale by the shoulders, its jaws snapping, trying to find their mark on Hale’s neck. Hale held the Hybrid back, and managed to sink his blade into the Hybrid’s chest. The Hybrid roared, but didn’t let up. It was getting awfully close to sinking its fangs into Hale when he brought his right leg around the Chimera’s and swiped it out from under it, sending both parties tumbling to the ground, Hale on top. Temporarily stunned, the Hybrid let go of Hale. He didn’t miss a beat, sending punch after punch into the Chimera’s skull. The Hybrid recovered, and threw a punch of its own, sending Hale stumbling several feet away. Bastard bloodied my nose! The Hybrid charged again, and Hale sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the creature. Shit! My knife! As the Hybrid turned, Hale found it to be holding his knife. If the creature could smile, it would be now, seeing as how it had the human right where it wanted him. The Hybrid lunged, the dagger held out, ready to run Hale through. Hale sidestepped again, grabbed the Hybrid’s wrist and elbow, and wrenched as hard as he could in the opposite direction. There was a crunch of bones as the Hybrid bellowed in agony. Hale flung the Hybrid over his shoulder and on to the ground, but before he could pin the creature down, it rolled away before springing to its feet. Its right arm hung limply, the forearm bent at an impossible angle. Hale had reclaimed his knife, and held it in a reverse grip. He charged, ready to cut the Hybrid to ribbons. Hale lowered his shoulder as the Hybrid charged him. Hale’s shoulder hit the Chimera in the gut, and he easily knocked it over in a tackle that would make Hale’s high school football coach cry tears of joy. Hale drove the blade into the Hybrid’s throat, and buried it to the hilt in the neck of the monster. It gave a few spasmodic jerks as its spine was severed by the blade, but went limp shortly after. Hale got up and wiped the blade on a pant leg. He unslung his Marksman, and reloaded it. Another close call. He jogged the remainder of the way to the core. Hale had entered an angular structure when the voice of Daedalus reverberated through his skull
“Traitor! You fight for a race that will only betray you!”
Hale shook the voice out of his head, trying to block any further intrusion of his consciousness. The shield in front of him dropped, and the way to the core was clear. Hale jogged down the path to the circular core area and was making for the nuclear bomb to arm it, when a tentacle whipped him across the circular platform, sending him flying into one of the several towers of the reactor.
“If you could see what I have seen, if you knew what was coming, you would do anything in your power to join the other side!” roared Daedalus.
Hale rose to his feet unsteadily, trying to clear his head of the intruder. Hale snarled, and brought his Marksman to bear on Daedalus, firing burst after burst into the creature’s “head.” The ion bursts, normally devastating, had no more effect than a pellet gun. Daedalus was upon him now, and Hale back pedaled, keeping up his futile assault. The circular reactor core’s size gave neither party the advantage; Hale kept firing and Daedalus kept hovering after him in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Daedalus didn’t dare fly over the actual core of the reactor; lest he be electrocuted.
Hale was down to his last magazine for the Marksman when he noted the blue tendrils of electricity arcing to and fro about the towers of the reactor. He gave a devious smirk, and stood his ground on the opposite side of the core from Daedalus. Sensing an opportunity to do away with Hale, Daedalus picked up speed and rushed towards Hale. Hale took aim and fired at one of the yellow orbs at the top of a reactor tower. Sparks flew, and some electricity shot out, but not nearly enough. Hale unloaded, firing the entirety of his magazine as quickly as the trigger allowed. That did the job. Overloaded, the remaining nodes vented their excess electrical build up to the closest, most conductive mass; Daedalus. The beast gave a pained roar, and crashed to the floor, electricity skittering about its body. Nathan Hale had done it. He had killed Daedalus, and now he strode to the atom bomb to rearm it. With the imminent destruction of the Chimeran aerial fleet, this was a victory not just for the besieged American people, but for all of mankind. He gave a weary smile. This war will be over soon. He knelt, and opened the control panel. The light labeled ARMED flickered to life. He stood and examined his handiwork. The atom bomb that lay before him was SRPA’s trump card, their ace in the hole. It was armed, and ready to unleash nuclear hellfire. Hale looked over at the grotesque corpse of Daedalus, and took on a solemn visage. Before, he was known as Jordan Shepherd, a friend and fellow survivor of Project Abraham. Now he was nothing but a shell of the man he used to be; twisted by the virus within to serve the Chimera. Hale walked over to the corpse, and moved to close its eyes when a rush of energy engulfed Hale. What started as a trickle turned to a downpour, and the telekinetic powers of Daedalus were bestowed upon Hale as he stood next to the massive corpse. As a contingent of Chimera ran to the dreadnought’s core, Hale turned to face them. He glared contemptuously at them as a telekinetic blast flew from his finger tips and tore the assembled Hybrids to shreds. A sadistic, bloodthirsty grin came upon his face as he activated the atom bomb’s timer, unslung his M5A2 Folsom, and ran to the landing pad for his escape. As the sounds of a raging battle reached the core, a massive tentacle stirred.
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A Titan, two large attack drones, and several Hybrids waited for the human. The monsters salivated at the thought of fresh meat and the metallic taste of human blood. The drones hovered dispassionately, their blue shields ensconcing them and their yellow optical sensors staring blankly ahead. Hale rounded the corner, and spied the gathered Chimera. Easily dodging the Titan’s rocket, Hale let loose a telekinetic blast that reduced the Hybrids to scattered bits of flesh and brought down the shields of the drones. Having moved too close to use the rocket launcher, the Titan cast it aside and prepared to crush the human while the drones flew to the rear of Hale to prevent his escape. Hale gave a contemptuous snort, and with a flick of his wrist reduced the Titan to bloody bits. The drones opened fire as Hale turned, and were blown apart for the trouble. The landing pad was just up ahead, so he brought his hand to his earpiece and pressed the transmit button.
“Capelli, this is Hale. Get out of here now.”
“Sir, I don’t understand, you’re right outside!” Capelli replied, surprised.
“I’d rather die than become one of them, Capelli, you know that.”
“I won’t leave you sir.”
“Damn it Capelli! There is nothing I have left to give! Regardless of whether I leave the ship or not I will still die!”
Hale heard Capelli curse under his breath. “I-I’m sorry sir. It has been an honor.”
“Likewise, Sergeant.”
With that, the shuttle lifted off, and sped away from the doomed ship.
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Hale looked on into the distance sadly as the stolen Chimeran shuttle containing Sgt. Joseph Capelli, the only other survivor of Echo team, vanished into the distance. He would rather die than succumb to the Chimeran virus, a surety given his neglect of inhibitor treatment. I only had three hours anyways. I don’t even have one now. This is better than being put down like a rabid dog. Hale glanced at his watch. Fifteen seconds until the fleet, and Hale along with it, would be consumed by nuclear fire. He looked over the horizon of Mexico and the Chicxulub crater where the massive Chimeran tower lay to form a tableau of desolation. An all too familiar feeling intruded upon his thoughts. It can’t be. Enraged, he whipped around and was face to face with Daedalus, who wasted no time in wrapping a tentacle around Hale and flying towards the sickly yellow beam originating from the tower below.
“You son of a bitch! You’ve lost, Shepherd! Killing me won’t do anything!” Hale shouted over the rushing wind. He tried using his newfound telekinetic abilities, but to no avail.
“To the contrary, human. Your actions have doomed your species to extinction. This is the beginning of the end for humanity, and you are to blame. My duty has been fulfilled and I shall die, but not before killing you, Nathan. No matter what happens to me the skies will never be the same. They will shine with our stars and the earth shall tremble!”
With that, Daedalus threw Hale into the beam, and he disappeared with a flurry of golden ash. A blinding flash of light appeared over Daedalus. What little of his humanity remained begged for forgiveness and mercy. The scorching heat of the blast hit Daedalus first, and then the overpressure wave. Reduced to a charred and shattered hulk, the once supreme leader of the Chimera fell to the earth, hitting the desert floor with a dull thud.
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When Hale opened his eyes, he was surprised to learn that he wasn’t reduced to nothingness by the pure energy of the beam. Also of note was the verdant green landscape he found himself over. Wait, over?! He looked down. Shit. He was just above treetop level, and cursed the gods of the universe as he fell through the canopy, hitting every branch that was large enough not to break when he impacted them. He managed to recover his fall, landing on his feet and rolling forwards. Collecting himself, he took stock of his condition. His chest felt off, and his fear was confirmed when an experimental breath sent pain lancing through his torso.
“God damn it” he wheezed.
He hadn’t been in as much pain since the Leviathan threw him into the Chimeran tower in Chicago. If I shrugged that off, then by God I can shrug off some broken ribs. The bruises that pockmarked his body were already abating, and the pain in his chest was fading, yet still lingering at the edge of his senses ready to return should he make too sudden a movement or too sharp a breath. He reached over his shoulder slowly, careful not to upset his ribs, and unslung his M5A2. He preferred the Marksman, but it was out of ammunition. He had saved the magazines as they could be recharged, however. He inspected the Folsom for damage. Satisfied that it was functional, he chambered a round. Scanning the forest carefully, he began walking, hoping to find some semblance of civilization.
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Hale knew that he was tough; he wouldn’t have survived England if he wasn’t, but he still needed to eat. He could barely walk in a straight line, his vision was blurring, and the Folsom felt like a lead weight in his arms. His ribs were fully healed, but such rapid regeneration came at a cost. His already accelerated metabolism used up even more energy to heal him, and he had yet to find any woodland creatures to make a snack out of. He didn’t bring food because he wasn’t planning on surviving Operation Black Eden in the first place. He was contemplating making a simple tea out of leaves and grass when he saw a sure sign of his salvation. A fence! A fence means people. He noted the trees past the fence. Large red fruit hung from the branches. His mouth began to water. An orchard. Apples. He smiled a happy smile. He hadn’t had apples in years; the destruction of most farms by the Chimera had seen to that. With a renewed vigor, he slung his weapon and jogged through his fatigue to the fence.
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After carefully climbing the fence, Hale sauntered over to the nearest tree, climbed up, and sat down on a branch. He plucked a ripe red apple from its branch and took a bite. The succulent fruit was like candy to the man. The sweet apples sent his thoughts to memories of his childhood; being raised by adoptive parents on their ranch after they promised to take care of Hale after the passing of his birth parents, playing with his adoptive sister, Susan, taking care of the horses with his father, and helping his mother around the house. He allowed himself a rare tear at the thought. They were all gone; crushed by the inexorable march of the Chimera. At least they put up one hell of a fight. Susan was still alive, but a prisoner of the government after she tried to assassinate the president. Hale was running security for POTUS at the time, and seeing his beloved sister in handcuffs broke his heart. His sadness turned to an amused anger. If she had killed him it would have saved me the trouble of doing it myself. He shook his head. Can’t get distracted. Hale tossed the apple core to the ground and plucked another, all without a care in the world. I need to find something more substantial than apples. Hale ate several more, and drifted off to sleep in the warm afternoon sun.
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Hale woke when a terrifyingly powerful impact nearly sent him plummeting from his perch. At first he thought it was caused by a Goliath; a walking siege vehicle used by the Chimera. A surreptitious glance from his concealed position, however, told a different story. A horse was kicking the tree with its hind legs. Now, seeing this on his ranch wouldn’t have surprised Hale too much, but this did. First, the horse was orange. Second, it was wearing a Stetson. Third, with his enhanced eye sight he could make out apples tattooed or branded onto its flank. Fourth, it was the most oddly proportioned horse he had ever seen. Lastly, it was talking.
“Lousy apple thievin’ varmints! If one of them critters is up there Ah’ll buck ‘em into next week!” growled the horse.
Hale shifted uncomfortably. Unbeknownst to him, a small crack had formed at the base of his chosen branch. The female pony let fly another kick. In response, the crack grew larger, and the branch drooped. Hale’s golden eyes widened. He realized that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Move and alert the angry mare beneath him, or stay put, fall, and be at a disadvantaged position to negotiate. Decisions, decisions. As Hale deliberated, his attention had left the pony. Because of this, he didn’t notice the orange equine deliver the kick that broke the branch’s back. With a surprised yelp, Hale and the branch tumbled to the ground and landed in a heap. He looked up, and saw the pony staring at him, jaw slack. Hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible, Hale stood slowly, held his hands out in front of him, and spoke in an attempt to calm the pony.
“I’m not going to hurt you, just calm down” Hale scratched the back of his head. “And sorry about the apples.”
