First chapter
Alright here’s my first chapter for my book. Yeah I know it took a fair bit of time, sorry. To be truly honest, I delayed. I had in fact written up the first chapter on the day I had said I was planning to rewrite it. So why didn’t I post it up right then and there?
I have no idea…
Actually now that I think about it, I probably wanted everyone to see, and not skip my previous post on Fundamentalism, D&D and rock music. The book I am writing, as said in the post ‘Another day’ is based in the Command and Conquer Universe, and is about a GDI Zone Troopers operation. Anyway, without further ado, here it is, an illustrious chapter 1.
Chapter 1
The Ox’s engines rumbled loudly, occasionally the turbulence jolted the armoured warriors sitting within its belly, flight restraint belts straining over their armoured bulk. The warriors were entombed within a massive suit of MK4 power armour, railguns strapped to backs, shoulder guards proudly displaying the GDI Eagle. Large helmets sat over the heads of each trooper, tinted visors turning each soldier into a faceless killing machine. They sat silently; the aircraft rumbled and started descending through the cold night atmosphere. Suddenly, a blank voice echoed out from an intercom speaker mounted on the cabins roof.
‘Team Hydra, we are almost over the target, prepare for jump’
Each team member stood up, clipped an arrestor cable on to the overhead railings and formed up a line near the large side door, towards the front of the cabin.
A minute later the door slid back and with a loud clunk locked into an open position. Strong winds tore through the cabin, the troopers stood unperturbed, then the lead trooper signalled with his hand to his sergeant, who in return gave him a slight nod.
The trooper triggered his cylindrical jetpack, strapped onto his back, a loud buzzing noise, like a chainsaw, filled the cabin, then the soldier leapt out the door and plummeted into the emptiness below.
The dirt land sat like a flat sheet, occasionally punctured by dead skeletons of trees and tufts of grass and sheaths of shrubs. All around the land was bare except for a circle of sandbags, which within stood a man in dark body armour and a fully encompassing, dark brown, skin-tight body glove. Upon closer inspection, about fifty meters ahead of the little bunker, was an unexpected dip in the terrain, a slit of earth had been dug out and in it’s place sat the heads of a dozen men, wearing red and black helmets or full face masks with crude oxygen filters and straps to secure it over the backs of shaved heads. A heavy calibre chaingun sat with it’s barrel poking out of the trench, aimed at some invisible enemy in the barren plains, inhabited only by blackened skeletons of trees and the painting of a new horizon. The men stood totally still, staring out into the distance, many wore goggles hiding their eyes and all of them were armed with intimidating looking matt black rifles with cheap wooden stocks. They wore little armour, many were garbed in old military fatigues, green camo pattern shirts and pants, which would have been of little help in their current environment.
Another unexpected feature was located just behind the sandbag bunker. It was a grating of metal measuring about six by four metres, another two of these gratings sat about twenty metres apart on the left and right of the first one. They sat quietly, all three had gathered a fair amount of dirt and dust over them, and the steel had soon become permanently browned and dirty. Hardened clags of dirt, congregated within the gaps in the grating, waiting for a time when they would be reduced into their former state of soil particles by rain, wind or maybe something entirely different.
There was no sound whatsoever across the landscape, the bruised sky ignored the small group of defences, sitting below them, and continued it’s slow swirling dance, attempting to hold back the orange sunlight that was making a fresh attempt at seeking out a new hole in it’s defences. The battle played on silently, no one on the ground took notice of it, the victor was far from certain, but it would have to continue endlessly and fruitlessly with the only pause coming when the true overlord, night came with it’s twinkling star minions.
Initiate soldier Makrise had been a devotee of NOD ever since he turned sixteen. He had long forgotten his actual age ever since they arrived at his large outskirt settlement. They came in majestic vehicles and gave out food and clothing as well as medical supplies. They asked for martyrs to join the cause and since Makrise had nothing else in the world, his mother had died before he was three, his father killed in a mutant raid when he was ten.
Makrise sat inside the small sandbag bunker, holding a pair of old binoculars. Inside the fortification sat several Klorshev 23 rifles, a dozen grenades and a comms radio. Many metres behind his bunker, sat several Surface to Air Missile systems which would activate when it detected a hostile aircraft and send then barrage after barrage of missiles at it’s designated target. Another two such anti-air weapons were located a hundred metres behind the bunker, which meant few but the fastest and stealthiest aircraft could escape the combined power of all three SAMs pegging missile after missile at it.
Two hundred metres in front of the Makrise’s observation bunker was a fifty metre slit trench which had about twelve men sitting crouching in it. They were all under Makrise’s command and were armed with Klorshev 23’s plus a single heavy calibre machine gun.
Makrise looked through the binoculars once more, surveying the flat plains, occasionally dotted with a lone tree. He longed for combat, to serve the Messiah and die for him, not this sentry job. But still if the Messiah’s appointed, demanded him to do such a task, he would do it. He put down the binoculars, looked out at the dark horizon one last time and turned around to the other being in the bunker, Lund. Lund’s entire head was wrapped in a light brown cloth, with a small gap for it’s eyes to peer from; it wore a pair of combat fatigues and a suit of body armour over a black shirt and carried a long, slim sniper rifle, strapped over it’s arm. Makrise had never actually seen Lund remove it’s head garb, and suspected that it harboured some intense injury. He had never actually asked his silent companion about it, but nevertheless, he always felt there was no reason to do so. He didn’t even know it’s sex, but he presumed it was male due to it’s deep voice, but in all honesty he wasn’t really sure. Many of the men suspected Lund was a mutant mercenary in the employ of NOD, but Makrise didn’t really case, just as long as the thing did as he ordered.
‘Lund?’ spoke Makrise while staring out through the binoculars.
‘Yes master?’
‘Take over for a while’
Without question, Lund took the binoculars from Makrise’s outstretched hand and started peering off into the distance to find any sign of hostiles.
Makrise cracked open a flask sitting next to one of the rifles, and started drinking the warm caffeine beverage within it. It stung his throat, but Makrise payed no attention and drank half the flask before sealing it once more.
‘Once I get back to base’ Makrise thought to himself ‘I’ll seek permission to transfer to the next infantry battalion that comes by here, or maybe I’ll seek to apprentice myself to a confessor’
He propped himself in a corner of the sandbag bunker, next to a rocket propelled grenade launcher and continued pondering to himself about his future opportunities and about the nature of the Brotherhood of NOD and the Messiah. He had always considered himself to be a good thinker and a philosopher in the ways of the Messiah and he would spend hours like this, in silent meditation. Suddenly until Lund’s deep voice broke him out of his reverie that had gone on for almost ten minutes.
‘Master’
A startled pause followed.
‘Uh, yes Lund?’
‘I see movement’ replied Lund.
‘Wah?’ spoke out Makrise at the unexpected news.
There was almost never any living thing out here, well not that he had seen himself.
He rose up and grabbed the binoculars off Lund, and quickly searched the horizon for any signs of life.
‘I don’t see anything’
‘Over there’ indicated Lund in his shapeless deep voice from under the cloth around his head, while pointing into the distance.
Makrise looked over at the point which Lund had indicated and saw nothing but a spattering of sunlight and distant blurred ground.
‘What did you see Lund?’ asked Makrise, the binoculars dropping down from his eyes.
‘A shadow, a figure on wings, folding into the earth’ spoke Lund deeply, in a poetic tone.
‘Speak bloody English you cretin!’ growled Makrise fearlessly, at the much taller and imposing Lund.
‘I know not of what it was, it was just a dark star in the sky, coming down to earth, I couldn’t identify it, if my life depended on it, it was ever so fleeting. I could have just as easily missed it’ he said haughtily.
‘That’s what the enemy would have wanted, you idiot! They would have wanted you to miss such a thing, they wouldn’t drop something huge so everyone can see! Use your common sense you fool! Stealth and speed!’ berated Makrise.
‘I am sorry master, shall I go out to investigate it?’
‘You shall, report back when you have found the thing’
Makrise, pushed the binoculars back over his weary eyes and started surveying the distance again, Lund pulled the strap on his sniper rifle, tighter over his shoulder and with his long legs, stepped calmly over the sandbag barricades and began striding off towards the alleged ‘object’ it had spotted.
He watched Lund walking, becoming smaller and smaller, eventually Lund became part of the landscape and was no more visible due to the lack of light from the heavens. Makrise continued peering into the distance looking for something, anything, but all that met his eyes was the brown empty dirt of the ground and the occasional skeletal tree, shrugging at his inspections. The only thing moving was the clouds, and the play of light and the occasional breeze of wind, which made Makrise shiver.
A half hour had passed since Lund left, and then suddenly, there was a figure in the very distance. It was walking purposefully, taking large strides with each step, but it never made any sudden movements, no running, no jogging. Makrise turned up the magnification nob on the old TLX 16 observation binoculars and twiddled with the focus until he could quite clearly see the figure.
‘Sir someone’s approaching!’ called out a soldier in the trenches.
‘I know you fool’ spat back Makrise, making the soldier turn away and remain silent in embarrassment.
Lund strode back to the trenches, jumped over the heads of the troops standing in the pit, walked over to the bunker and stepped over the sandbags and stood next to Makrise.
‘Master’ it spoke.
‘Yes Lund?’ asked Makrise expectantly.
‘I have found no evidence of anything out there, no tracks, no marks’
‘In that case whatever you saw must not have existed or it was a bird, it was too small to be anything of significance anyway, otherwise the anti-air missiles behind us would have picked them up’ said Makrise confidently, to reassure himself, more than to reassure Lund.
‘Yes, of course master’
‘Alright then, here you are’ said Makrise suddenly, handing Lund the binoculars.
Lund took them and started peering out into the distance again.
Less than a minute later, a loud shout and gurgle rose up rose up from the trenches. Lund immediately reacted by dropping to the floor and throwing aside the binoculars and unholstering his sniper rifle. He clicked back the loader and propped it up against his shoulder and aimed over the sandbags, while trying to keep his head down.
‘What the hell happened?’ asked Makrise as he ducked on to the ground and crawled beside Lund.
‘I have no idea it looks like one of the troops in the trench was just shot’
Lund surveyed the area urgently looking for any sign of an opponent. The men in the trench had panicked, some grabbed weapons and were searching desperately for the sniper. One man threw the slumped body of his comrade off the heavy chaingun and manned it, turning it around, to find a target.
Another shot rang out, a trooper peering over the trench fell dead.
‘I think the shots are coming from our left’ spoke Lund calmly and in it’s deep voice despite the situation.
‘Find the sniper and kill him’ Makrise said in a shaky voice as he crawled over to his Klorshev 23 propped up next to the comms radio. He loaded it, pulled back the slide and switched off the safety.
‘I’ll warn HQ’ spoke Makrise, suddenly noticing the comms radio.
He reached up cautiously, pulled the mouthpiece down from it’s birthing on the side of the bulky comms kit and, in a crouching position, within the sandbags, started talking into the radio. A loud whooshing sound, like the buzz of takeoff engines suddenly burst the air, prompting Makrise to turn around, yet he dared not look out of cover in case he was shot.
Suddenly there was a loud whining burst of a high powered weapon firing, men screamed and in return, scattered bursts of automatic gunfire could be heard, from the trenches.
A loud whooshing noise, like the roar of a jet engine followed and then a shadow suddenly cast over Lund and Makrise. Lund was the first to look up, before a massive figure, in yellow green power armour landed directly on top of him. A loud cracking of bones and splattering noise followed as a pair of armoured talons sunk right into his back with a horrible impact. Gore soaked Lund’s clothing, his body armour was cracked and the fabric around his head was splattered with blood.
Makrise stared up in fear as a gigantic figure calmly deactivated his jetpack and turned around to look down upon the small insect cowering below him, a rifle held limply in Makrise’s hand. The titan held a long and intimidating looking rifle, it’s barrel cratered with external cooling holes, the visor of the helmet turned slightly to regard Makrise. Suddenly the butt of the rifle was swung round and even as Makrise held up his arms to block the strike, the Zone Trooper smashed through his block and the steel black butt went straight into Makrise’s head with such force that he was pitched back and slammed into the small stash of rifles and grenades, scattering them around the bunker’s floor. Blood was flowing freely from Makrise’s split head and he howled in pain and fear as the behemoth stomped over to his body.
Blood welled in initiate soldier Makrise’s mouth, he struggled to plead for mercy, to have himself not be harmed. The trooper grabbed Makrise’s neck with his gigantic armoured gauntleted hand and snapped his neck in half with little effort, before turning away from the carnage he had wrought and leaping out of the small bunker.
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