The APC shook as it approached Crash Site Bravo. Squad Captain, Ryan Miller sat at the back of the vehicle where he took stock of his weary-eyed squad.
They were the Welcome Wagon. They had their suspicions of what lay ahead but never until now had they been so in the dark in regards to a mission. They had departed from Site 51 almost as soon as the Omega alert was raised, their short briefing beforehand did little to lift their spirits. All this talk of Xenos and invasion, it’s got all of us on edge. Not to mention the growing threat of the Deterrent Morte. They’ve never been this coordinated. What changed?
“Captain, what do you think we’ll find?” asked his First Lieutenant, Caleb Jackson. The black man’s domineering build and wide shoulders had him hunched over in the back of the cramped vehicle. The prototype X0 Exo-Suit he wore had helped him make quite a name for himself on various fronts. It had become as familiar to him as any part of his natural body.
“I’m not sure, Lieutenant, besides our focus right now is the smaller ship that broke away from the big one.”
Master Sergeant, Matthew Gregory, a much smaller man compared to the others looked deep in contemplation before finally speaking up. “You think we might have a fight on our hands.”
“You never know,” Corporal John Munroe said, adjusting his glasses. “Kind of a shame that first contact has to go down this way.”
“Shit happens,” Miller said. Those words were an apt description of the last thirty years or so. “We’ll be there soon, once we’re on the ground. I want you all sharp and ready. If anything comes out. Be they Xeno, Mortan, or something else. Put them down.”
“What if they surrender?” asked Private First Class David Webber. He had been the newest assigned member since their last one was killed in action. He was green but he showed potential.
“The problem with that is, is their sign of surrender, the same as ours?” asked Technician 3rd Grade Sam Mason.
“If it is, we take them alive. As long as they don’t come out shooting. That means keeping your fingers steady but ready for anything. We know from reports that Lazarus went to hell in a handbasket. There’s no telling what awaits us.”
The whole squad agreed with that. The reports from Lazarus had been few and far between. The current consensus was complete city loss. And that wasn’t even because of the aliens but the deadly, Morte symbiote or more specifically a variant named the Deterrent. A handmade bioweapon developed by the Soviet Imperium. It had taken mere hours for the city to go dark and as if to be the icing on the cake of this mess aliens finally decided to show up. Yeah. Miller thought, checking over his laser rifle one last time. Real shame this is how First Contact has to be.
#
The Welcome Wagon’s task force broke away from the main convoy and began travelling over the rougher terrain. Overhead reconnaissance from Birds-Eye drones had helped give them a rough idea of the scale and shape of the smaller, sleeker alien craft. Once they had pulled up close to it, those that were assigned to assist the task force began rapidly unloading everything. The men of the Welcome Wagon took a moment to appreciate the sheer size of the downed vessel. This wasn’t just a crashed fighter. Its size alone implied it could hold a small army’s worth of men. And more so, the damage to its exterior looked minimal. There was barely a scratch on its surface. The oval-shaped shiny looking ship still looked mostly intact despite the hard impact. The semi-circular wings on either side had large defensive turrets installed but they had since been rendered mangled and inoperable. As the task force took position around the craft. The bottom section of the ship finally became visible. It had a larger upward curvature near where a ramp would be deployed. The wreck by itself was fascinating but the vision on the horizon was even more awe-inducing. The remains of the larger craft stood out against the setting orange sun. Its ruins were smouldering as it sat in a trench of its own making. In both cases, neither team knew what to expect from their respective wrecks. They had no clue if there were all dead survivors or all Mortans. Or something worse. The Welcome Wagon were no stranger to the abnormal. In only a short few years the world as they knew it had changed irrevocably. And now we’re the ones trying to play catchup, Miller thought taking in the sight of both wrecks together.
In only a short amount of time, a few dozen military-grade tents had been erected around the crash site and inside the main command tent, the squad of six destined to enter the craft had gathered alongside other personnel that were coordinating the operation as a whole. On the table was the preliminary report immediately following the impact of both this small craft and the much larger one some miles away.
“Judging by aerial support, nothing has escaped this craft. However, our attempts to scan for life inside have proven unable to penetrate the hull itself. In other words, we don’t know what is waiting for us in there,” Captain Miller said.
“Judging by that landing, I highly doubt anyone survived,” said Sergeant Gregory.
The Captain stared intently at the report and furrowed his brow before putting the tablet on the table. “Well, we have no real way of knowing until we get in there.” He faced the remaining members. “I need you all at your best, you’re about to make first contact with life from another world. So put on a friendly face and for Christ’s sake let’s try not to cause an intergalactic incident.”
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“I think we’re already past that, sir,” remarked Lieutenant Jackson.
“What if all the Xenos are dead sir?” Asked Corporal Munroe after adjusting his glasses.
“Then we prepare the bodies for exfil and have Site 51 scientists handle the autopsy. Any more questions, Corporal?” Captain Miller asked.
No one else spoke. “Good,” He said. “Let’s get to work.”
The squad were each specialist in their respective field. Two of them, Technician 3rd Grade Mason and Private First Class Webber were engineers if anyone could make sense of the alien technology, it would be them. Master Sergeant Gregory and Corporal Munroe were the squad medics, and the final two were Captain Miller and the Demolitions expert, First Lieutenant Caleb Jackson.
The squad and the accompanying personnel from Site 51 also had a nonstandard kit involving laser rifles and similarly designed pistols. Caleb had also brought along plasma-based charges that would hopefully melt the weakened exterior, giving them easy access to the ship. Once everything had been checked and triple-checked, the squad of six left the tent and headed for the craft. They navigated past the automated turrets that were positioned facing it.
“Jackson, prepare the charges for a breach. Everyone else keep your weapons primed on the exit hole. This ship may be crawling with Deterrents.”
The squad let out a chorus of yes sirs and took positions so that if anything did leave the ship, it wouldn’t get very far. Jackson removed the small plasma charges from his backpack and approached the port side of the ship. He reached out and first got a feel for the strange alien metal that made up much of the craft. It felt incredibly smooth, and unlike anything, he had come across on Earth.
“We have no time to admire their handiwork, Jackson. Set the charges and get back here for a remote detonation!” the Captain ordered, snapping him back to his senses.
He set the charges and hurried back to where they all had taken a position at the edge of the semicircle they had created.
The ensuing explosion created a large plume of smoke and what followed was a loud clang as hot metal collapsed inward revealing the craft’s interior.
“Great job, Jackson, now give us some light.”
Jackson pressed a button on his exo-suit as he approached the gaping hole. The torches attached to his shoulders turned on illuminating the insides of the craft. Jackson lifted his heavy rifle and moved to enter first. He did a full survey of his surroundings before calling out to the others to enter.
“All clear!”
The squad entered what appeared to be the equivalent of a troop seating area. They also switched on their shoulder torches making it easier for them to see all that was around them. The interior had a sleek silver look to it. It certainly looked otherworldly compared to the more rugged aircraft used by humans.
“What kind of transport deploys without men?” Miller asked.
Mason shrugged. “The kind that was likely in a hurry. The cockpit is up ahead. That should answer your question.”
No one disputed his claim and together they climbed the steps that led into a large cockpit. Intended to carry a handful of people. It too was empty. The front screen had a protective seal forcing them to navigate by torchlight. The front end of the cockpit had three seats. Two were unoccupied while the third positioned in the centre had a solitary grey-skinned alien passenger. The squad were speechless.
Miller gestured to one of the medics. “Munroe, run a scan, see if it’s still breathing.”
“Understood, sir,” Munroe said, opening the case he brought with him. First, he performed a surface scan. That projected a patient’s vitals onto a monitor built inside the case. Like most of Bravo’s tech, it was advanced beyond much of what was currently in active deployment.
The other medic hovered close and chuckled after seeing the initial readings. “Aside from his skin. Internals aren’t too different from us. That’s not really surprising though,” Munroe said.
“Is it alive?” Jackson asked.
Munroe nodded. “Yes, unconscious, likely from impact but still breathing. So that’s one thing it’s got going for it. I’ll get to work with Gregory here, and we’ll get it prepared for extraction. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Good,” Miller said, spinning to see the Engineers trying to make heads or tails of the alien consoles. He approached with Jackson lingering not far behind.
“Webber, Mason. Any luck?”
“Well, we know one thing for sure. These guys are way way ahead of us,” Mason said.
“It’s on the level of Site 51. Which is not good, sir. Especially if more are on their way,” Webber added.
“Do you think these people built Site 51?”
Both engineers look at each other and knew neither could give a definitive answer to that question.
Miller straightened a little at their lack of an answer. “Then we need to be prepared. Is any part of it operable?”
“Perhaps. It’s just more a matter of finding the right…”
Before Webber could finish his sentence, the console lit up and a small holographic form appeared in much the same shape as the male alien behind the Captain. Its sudden appearance put the six of them on edge. It spoke rapidly in an alien language before it entered a long silence.
“What do you think it is?” asked Captain Miller.
“Not sure, could be one of them trying to contact survivors? Would help if we understood what it was saying,” Webber said.
The alien hologram spoke again looking from one man to the next. Before finally shutting off.
“Well that was underwhelming,” Miller said.
“It could be something more than someone trying to contact our new friend here,” Webber said looking at the console.
“What do you mean?” asked Miller.
“You think this is an A.I.?” Mason asked looking at Webber.
The man gave a brisk nod. “I mean look at where it was projected from, right beneath it is a slot. If I can figure out how to eject it. We can bring it with us.”
“It could go a long way to understanding what we’re up against, Captain.”
Miller agreed. “You two continue making sense of how this ship works. In the meantime, we extract the alien. Site 51 will have plenty of questions for it I bet.”
All six of them gave a chorus of “Yes sir” and set to work. Miller looked back to the alien.
Let’s hope we can bridge the language gap. I dread to think what those at the Alpha site have in store for them. And what if this was just a preliminary force? Is a much bigger armada on its way? Looking at the highly advanced technology around him. A sinking feeling gripped Captain Miller.
Either way, we are hopelessly outmatched.