Die Quickly (681 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (View user info) at 2004-09-24 02:51:26 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Garett kicked at the stone, idly watching it sail into a nearby sandy gully. The heads-up display on the inside of his helmet flashed briefly as the Sergeant opened a private com-link.
"Quit fucking around, IVS. We don't want to attract any undue attention." Was he serious?
"Uh, I hate to point this out, but we are in the middle of a desert somewhere in bumfuck China with nothing but dirt and rocks for miles. Just whose attention am I attracting? The Chinks have some hidden cameras out here, making sure nobody swipes their pebbles?"
"You better learn some fucking respect, boy." Came the snarling reply. "The recon boys say there is some kind of facility out here and it's our job to find it and get it targeted for a groundstrike. So if you, or any other fucking IVS piece of shit, want to try to fuck up this mission in any way, shape or form - keep in mind that I am the one with the activation codes for your collars. You savvy, little doggie?" He cut the com-link.
"Little doggie? Fuck you." Muttered Garett to the inside of his helmet, absent-mindedly fingering his IVS collar through the thick beige fabric of his combat suit. The dull-grey metal band was standard issue to all IVSs (Involuntary Soldiers); essentially nothing more than a compact explosive device that could be detonated by remote. Not strong enough to damage much nearby, but quite capable of rupturing the human neck it was wrapped around.
The IVS Program was the brainchild of US Department of Criminal Administration back in the 'forties. By around 2030 the US economy was languishing in deep depression as a result of its involvement in a series of protracted and expensive conflicts early in the century. A burgeoning deficit, combined with the economic successes of the so-called 'Asian Tigers', particularly China, brought the once mighty US of A to its knees. Companies once referred to as 'American institutions' went bust and there were massive job losses across the board. The slums swelled and crime rates rocketed. Faced with unmanageably overcrowded prisons, death row inmates and lifers were signed up as IVSs. Why leave perfectly good murderers, rapists and thugs to rot in a government-funded jail when you can coerce them to fight for you? They were already as good as dead anyway.
Garett fit the profile perfectly.
Born in a slum in the mid-thirties, it hadn't taken long for him to join a local gang. His loyal service lasted for twelve years, ending in a violent firefight over some disputed turf. The police found him in a blood-splattered room with nine fresh corpses and two bullets in his abdomen. He was lucky enough to recover from his wounds, and as sole survivor of the shootout, was sentenced to death for his involvement. Young and fit, with a healthy case of xenophobia to boot, he made an ideal IVS candidate. Far better to have him die fighting a battle about which he didn't know or care, than to waste taxpayer money on a long death row queue in a crowded corrective facility.
Having cheated death twice, there he was - trudging through the parched, stony wastes of the Gobi Desert, clad in an obsolete combat suit, with a bomb around his neck and an asshole holding the controls. Fucking wonderful.
Garett opened a com-link to Gordon, another of the IVSs. He'd been some kind of businessman once, but when he caught his boss plowing his wife he took a golf club to both their skulls. Gordon could be weird at times, but Garett found him to be a bit more switched on than most of the other IVSs he had met.
"Hey, Gordon..."
"What is it?"
"I heard somewhere that we were at war with North Korea. Why the fuck are we in China?"
"Hydrogen."
"What the fuck?"
Gordon sighed in exasperation.
"Hydrogen. Look, it's a fuel, like gasoline, only it burns more cleanly and is very hard to make in commercial quantities. With oil and coal reserves running low, everyone is trying to find a way to produce it on the cheap. Once you can do that, you become the next OPEC. You will be the one holding the fuel technology, and you will have the rest of the world by the balls."
"Right." Garett paused, thinking, "And China has this?"
"No. But, like us, they are close. If we can get there first, we can probably drag ourselves up out of the shit-hole our country has fallen into. If the Chinese get there first, we will probably go from bad to worse."
"Gotcha. So they've got some lab or something out here, and we want to waste it?"
"It's likely. I heard our Sergeant talking about some underground facility earlier - I guess that's what we are looking for."
A small blue icon flashed on Garett's heads-up display informing him that Gordon had cut the com-link.
It had been about six hours since the dropship had deposited them in the desert when the Sergeant began transmitting on the general com-link frequency.
"We have discovered what looks like a makeshift landing pad. Fan out. Keep your weapons handy and stay sharp - we could be close. Stay in contact and report anything out of the ordinary."
Shaking his head at the volley of 'Yes sirs' and 'Affirmatives' that exploded across the com-link, Garett gripped his assault rifle and fanned out with the rest.
About ten minutes into the search, one of the privates reported in.
"Found something here; looks like a large block, mostly buried, about four feet by three. Transmitting video feed now."
Garett accessed the transmission on his helmet's heads-up display, just as the block began rising up from the soil, stubby gun barrels extending from its midsection. As the cry of "Turret!" rang across the com-link, the sergeant came online, urgency in his voice.
"Everyone get clear! Forrester, Nilsson - take it out!"
As men fled in all directions, the turret opened fire. Bullets flew like a swarm of angry metal hornets, mowing down the nearest soldiers, their dying screams piercing the general communication frequency. Meanwhile, two of the larger men in the company hoisted large metal tubes onto their shoulders, pointing them directly at the offending structure. Seconds later, a pair of rockets smacked into the side of the turret. The explosion reduced it to a twisted, smoking pillar protruding from an area of scorched rocks and earth.
Garett pulled up a casualty list on his head-up display. Four dead, three wounded, in a matter of seconds. No wonder they were beefing up the armed forces with IVSs, they needed as many expendable bodies as they could muster. He was wondering what the next move would be as the Sergeant started transmitting.
"Alright. Listen up men. Judging from the reception, we must be close, and you can bet your ass our little Chinese buddies know we're here. The plan is to find the facility, mark the area for an orbital laser groundstrike, call in a hypersonic dropship and get the fuck out of here. We will have about fifteen minutes to get clear once the groundstrike is called. Any questions?"
"Uh, yeah," began Garett.
"What is it IVS?" The com-link did little to mask the contempt in the Sergeant's voice.
"How do I call a groundstrike?"
"You don't, shit-for-brains. The Corporals and myself do. If we get killed, the small red transmitters are on our belts. You pop the lid and hit the button. Unfortunately for you, and anyone nearby, without our authorization codes for the timing system, the groundstrike will be triggered within about twenty seconds or so. Just long enough to peel off your suit, bend over, and kiss your soon-to-be-vaporized ass goodbye. Anything else?"
One of the soldiers came online.
"Sir, the ground over here is moving."
"Come again, private?"
"Some kind of gate is opening. I think I see a ramp. I'm counting three jeeps. Shit! I think they've seen me..." The transmission stopped abruptly, as a soldier on the far edge of the group crumpled to the ground.
With a mechanical roar, the jeeps came tearing up out of the ramp. They moved quickly over the rocky terrain, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. A barrage of screams and curses leaked into the com-link, as men were shot and run down; Forrester and Nilsson loosed another pair of rockets. Almost simultaneously, two of the jeeps erupted into orange fireballs, one careening into several soldiers as it came to rest. Garett turned down the volume on his com-link, the near-constant screams were jarring his concentration.
Through the smoke from the wreckage, he searched for the third jeep. He spotted it just in time to watch it bear down on the Sergeant. Rather than dive out of the way, he stood defiantly, emptying his clip at the front of the vehicle. The windscreen shattered, and Garett saw the driver's body convulse under a hail of bullets. Instantly slowing, the jeep still possessed enough momentum to strike the Sergeant, launching him several yards before he landed, unmoving, limbs at unnatural angles. Before Garett could get a clear shot, the gunner on the rear of the jeep had toppled amidst a barrage of gunfire.
Garett pulled up the casualty list; the Sergeant, both Corporals and all but five of the other men were dead or seriously wounded. He looked over at the subterranean entrance just in time to see a hulking grey tank emerge. A flash of adrenaline flowed through his body, and he bolted for the Sergeant's prone form. No way in hell was he going to die by the greasy, yellow hand of a Chinaman. A pair of rockets flew towards the tank. It was rocked by the explosion but continued to advance, spitting a shell from its short gun-turret. The ground shook as it impacted, and Garett stumbled, before diving beside the Sergeant's corpse. It must've been a good shot - he noted three new names on the casualty list. He fumbled with the Sergeant's belt, finally pulling off a small red cylinder, clutching it tightly in his fist.
Another two rounds flew from the tank, Garett watched, mesmerized, as one landed directly in front of a running solider. Where a man once stood, now there was nothing but a small black crater, and a smattering of gore. The second round landed out of Garett's sight, he did however hear a truncated scream and notice one new name joining the casualty list.
Around the tank, a squad of soldiers emerged, perhaps twenty or so. Garett heard a thickly accented voice over a loudspeaker.
"American soldiers, you are defeated by us. Drop your weapons at the ground and give up. You will be coming with us for questioning."
Garett watched as the tank's turret swiveled - soon it was pointing directly at him.
"I repeat. Drop your weapons or you will be dying very soon."
Garett let his assault rifle fall to the ground, flipping the lid off the transmitter. He depressed the small red button and pulled off his helmet, throwing it down.
Miles above, a small satellite swiveled as power surged through its circuits.
"Fuck you, rice-picker!" Yelled Garett, "I'll die when I fucking feel like it!"
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 12:18:07 EST (#)
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