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Sigma 16 T2 - Chapter 120 – Contact
🕑 Added 2024-09-26 20:12:27 +0000 UTCAmelia’s eyes darted between the approaching shield barrier and the marines flanking her, her hand hovering near her sidearm. The others had their weapons drawn, fingers resting alongside triggers.
She let her hand fall away. As a pilot, she’d rarely needed to use her sidearm. Drawing it now felt presumptuous, like overstepping her role.
Torres and Rabbit bracketed her, their vigilant presence a stark reminder of her inexperience in ground combat. She’d gotten them down alive, but now? This was their arena.
The industrial complex drew closer with every sandy hill they navigated around. The compound, and its activity, stuck out against the barren landscape. Cargo vehicles streamed in and out with eerie efficiency. No people. No guards. Just machines.
Where was everyone?
Sergeant Griff’s frustrated growl punctuated another failed attempt at communication. They’d tried repeatedly during their approach, met only with silence.
They reached the shield barrier’s threshold. Two marines passed through unharmed. Whatever harmonics it was set to, it wasn’t tuned for anti-personnel. Amelia’s mouth went dry. It felt reckless, desperate.
But what choice did they have? Over half of them were in skinsuits, and any breach meant certain death. They needed shelter, supplies, answers. A single sandstorm would kill most of them.
The few in power armor were lucky. They’d last longer.
Maybe they weren’t the lucky ones, actually. If they didn’t find supplies, she’d prefer a fast way out rather than drawn out suffering.
As they neared the barrier, the facility’s details sharpened. The absence of visible defenses or personnel only heightened her anxiety.
A glance at Torres, then Rabbit revealed their tense postures. The group passed through the shield barrier without fanfare. Griff and the fireteams urged them toward the nearest building, rifles at the ready.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite her pilot suit’s anemic cooling system. It blew cool air on the back of her neck. Even though it was weak and overloaded, she was thankful for it. Not everyone had that luck.
A half dozen of them didn’t even have suits with water straws compatible with their emergency water rations. They needed to figure that out—and fast.
Griff’s raised hand halted the group at the building’s wall. The lack of security challenges struck her as deeply wrong.
Who leaves an industrial base unguarded during wartime?
Their UFE IFFs and personal implants might explain some of the lack of response, but this level of openness felt off.
She scanned upward, searching for any sign of surveillance or defense systems. A small dome camera on the corner caught her eye, its lens focused directly on their group.
Her breath caught. They were being watched.
“Sergeant.” She pointed. “Camera up there.”
Griff cursed under his breath. “I know we’re being watched. But what choice do we have? Whoever’s running this show won’t pick up the damn phone.”
Torres frowned, tapping her wrist computer. “Sir, I still can’t access any of these drone units. They’re clearly UFE, but… it’s like we don’t have clearance.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Griff said. “If they’re not hostile, why lock us out?”
Kowalski gestured toward a nearby structure. “Look, that’s definitely a bootstrap module from a downed ship. And there’s hydroponics, resource collection drones…”
Amelia followed Kowalski’s pointing finger, piecing together the hodgepodge of familiar UFE equipment. It painted a picture of desperate survival, not unlike their own situation. There was a noticeable lack of emblem, though. “Corporate versions?”
“Stellar Dynamics? NovaTech?” Torres asked.
Griff looked back at them. “If this is the target’s base, she’s a Fremont. As in, Enterprises.”
“I think it’s Cortex,” Kowalski said. “This is all angular. It all runs the same regardless, but they like their angles. Fremont likes to round the corners.”
“Over there,” Torres hissed, indicating another structure. “Prison module. And… is that a research facility?”
A frown creased Amelia’s forehead. “You think it’s from Fremont’s ship? Maybe she crashed like we did.”
“But why the prison?” Kowalski asked.
Before anyone could speculate further, a rumbling sound drew their attention. An armored vehicle, clearly a modified main battle tank, emerged from a tunnel. Behind it marched a company of armed IRUs of various weights.
“Jesus Christ,” Griff muttered, echoed by similar curses from some of the others.
Amelia crouched along with the rest of them against the wall. “They have to know we’re here. There’s no way they don’t.”
Griff nodded grimly. “Kowalski, try comms again.”
The corporal pulled out his electronic board, sitting down with a determined expression. “Going in,” he announced, plugging his wrist jack into the device.
Amelia shifted her weight nervously as they waited. On the horizon, a distant cloud of dust rose.
While the others focused on the emerging military units and communication attempts, she fixated on the growing disturbance.
A vehicle crested a dune, unmistakably heading in their direction. Her heart raced as she grabbed Griff’s shoulder, interrupting his heated discussion with Kowalski.
“Sergeant, something’s coming,” she said, pointing out into the desert.
Griff barely glanced in the direction she indicated. “Doesn’t matter. Kowalski, you need a hard connection?”
Rabbit nodded. “If I can jack into one of the modules, maybe we can get more clues.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” Torres asked, slapping the wall.
“It’s just a storage silo,” Rabbit explained. “No processing unit.”
Griff’s gaze swept over the compound before settling on a nearby structure. “The prison’s closest. We’re moving to it.”
They picked a path that kept them out of the IRUs’ line of sight. Amelia’s pulse quickened with each step, hyper-aware of their exposed position. They reached the module despite her anxiety.
Kowalski’s sharp intake of breath caught her attention. “Alien,” he cursed under his breath.
The group quickly took cover where they could while Amelia followed Kowalski and Torres into the control room. She glanced at the armored glass. Inside the cell, a blue humanoid sat cross-legged in the center.
The control console was just inside the door. Mostly because there wasn’t space for anything else. It was obviously just some sort of control booth for the module. Kowalski settled into the seat, preparing to jack in.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine shattered the tense silence. She whipped around as a heavy APC burst into the compound, spraying sand as it skidded to a stop nearby.
It didn’t matter, did it?
Amelia winced. The thought was uncharitable. The Sergeant was just trying to keep things together.
Her eyes snapped to the roof of the APC. What she had initially mistaken for a turret rose up, revealing itself as a mechanized armor suit. It leaped from the vehicle, landing with a ground-shaking impact. Two enormous alien ‘spiders’ crawled into view from the other side of the vehicle, flanking the armored figure as they descended.
Around her, the marines raised their weapons, training them on the new arrivals. Her hand didn’t even twitch toward her sidearm. Her small firearm would be utterly useless.
A tense silence hung in the air for a heartbeat before the mechanized suit’s speaker crackled to life. A female voice rang out, “Lower your weapons.”
A few marines shifted hesitantly, but they followed Sergeant Griff’s lead and maintained their aim. The Sergeant’s voice wavered slightly as he spoke, “Talia Fremont? By UFE Military command, this unit is authorized to make your arrest. Dismount your armor and…” He faltered, glancing at the massive arachnids before continuing, “…and call off your native allies so we can place you in custody.”
This is going to hell in a handbasket. Amelia’s stomach clenched as silence stretched out once more.
The armored suit advanced, halting only when Sergeant Griff’s rifle barrel pressed against its armored waist. Griff barely reached its chest; the suit looming over him like a steel colossus, its shadow swallowing him whole. Dread coiled in Amelia’s stomach. They were utterly outmatched.
“That’s Planetary Governor Fremont to you, Sergeant, and I deny your jurisdiction in my purview,” the suit’s speaker said. “Furthermore, based on my intel that you are stranded UFE military personnel within my precinct, and in light of the ongoing conflict, I hereby invoke the Lex Militaris Conscription Act and place you under the command of the 1st Sigma Irregulars until such time as your lawfully appointed command can arrange evacuation for you. Who is your highest ranking officer?”
Amelia’s eyes widened in disbelief. Did she just conscript us?
The tense standoff reached its peak. Sergeant Griff hesitated, his rifle wavering before finally lowering. The other marines followed suit, their weapons dropping with a collective sigh of relief.
A sudden electric hum made her skin prickle. A dozen sniper IRUs materialized out of thin air, their active camouflage dropping to reveal their positions scattered across nearby roofs and buildings. Her gut had been right; they’d walked right into a carefully prepared trap.
A soft whirr behind her caught her attention. She turned, her breath catching as she spotted a sentry turret retracting into the ceiling of the building they’d taken shelter in. Its laser sight winked off as it disappeared. We never stood a chance. Her mouth went dry.
“Lieutenant Parker?” Sergeant Griff’s voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone’s gaze to her.
She swallowed hard, the weight of realization settling on her shoulders. She was the highest-ranking officer present—the only officer, in fact. Torres gave her arm a reassuring pat as she stepped forward, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her.
The mechanized armor before her suddenly split open, revealing a smaller power armor suit within. The helmet’s faceplate turned crystal clear, revealing the sapphire eyes of a young woman—Talia Fremont.
Gathering her courage, Amelia spoke, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’m Lieutenant Parker. Before we talk about anything else, do you have shelter for us? We’ve already lost two to exposure, and most of us weren’t prepared and are in light skinsuits.”
Talia nodded, her suit speaker crackling to life. “I can provide you all with a bunker. I didn’t have one ready for so many, but we can put together something to hold you all in a bio-contained area until it’s worked out.”
Relief washed over her. “Thank you. We’ve been through a lot getting down here.”
A weak laugh came from Talia. “I think I know how you feel.”
Her eyes drifted downward, fixating on Amelia’s arm. Before she could react, a gauntleted hand gently grasped her limb. Panic fluttered in her chest at the unexpected contact.
“Neo, we have a medical emergency,” Talia said urgently.
Confusion gave way to horror as she saw the state of her makeshift cast. The plaster that had sealed her injury was disintegrating, a black-purple fringe eating through the material.
***
Yay chapters again! Let's get this moving!
(Opps, this is 120, isn't it?)
Comments
Jonathan Wint
AWSOME!
JHD
Thanks for the chapter.
