The Oracle

3-8-10
The soft, cool wind was blowing ash and sand over the recently charred, blackened landscape; cooling the molten, twisted metal into oddly beautiful things. The glistening silver-like material glinted in the harsh rays of the sun which only added to its splendor. Sounds of crackling fire and the small booms of distant ship board explosions drowned out the sound of the quickly approaching convoy of small jeeps; their jet black .50 Cali machine guns bouncing around on their holsters. Large, armored APC’s and menacing Casio tanks quickly followed suite blending in almost perfectly with the clouds of dust and think, oily plumes of smoke. “Your mission,” said an oddly deep voice crackling over the short waves, “is to board that disabled enemy cruiser and secure it for further operations. More instructions will be given on sight. We do this right ya’ll all be home before Christmas.”
The men started shifting in their seats as the radio clicked off, “Ya heard the man!” said the helmeted figure turning around to look at the nervous faces of the men in his squad, “Rangers lead to way,” “All the way the way, Sir” Yelled the squad in almost perfect unison.
Sounds of loading Beretta rifles and brief words of luck were soon drowned out by the sound of the jeep screeching to a halt a hundred meters from the crashed ship, skidding slightly on the slick ground. Kicking the doors open the men sprang out and started to sprint toward the cruiser with a defining accompany of yelling and the heavy footfalls of their boots. Whistling motor fire erupted from the ship; Bright balls of blue plasma arched its way across the sky, quickly followed by small arms fire from the remaining survivors of the devastated cruiser.“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any resistance, damn it!” yelled a soot covered soldier crouching low behind a large sand covered rock. “I said that there might not be..." the cover the men were behind exploded as one of the mortar rounds slammed into the rock engulfing them in bright blue fire.
Jimmy Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child” blasted out of the small sub-woofer that sat on nearby table, the black foam covering rose and fell with every twang of the sweet sounding guitar. A dim, flickering, florescent light hung low from the ceiling swaying back and forth giving it an oddly sinister feeling; and a pungent smell of oil and alcohol filled the small garage as two men in dirty, oil spattered jumpsuits looked into the engine of a recently wrecked MRLRV Jeep.
“Well I don’t know what the hell is wrong with it” said Terrance, scratching his head with the butt of a greasy wrench.
“Why am I not surprised, Terrance?” said John, pulling a filthy rag from his pocket and wiping his sweaty brow “I swear I bet ya can’t even tell your ass from your elbows.”
“That’s not what your mom said last night,” chuckled Terrance, a small grin spreading across his face. The silence that followed only added to his smug sense of victory.
The smell of beans and what was supposed to be meatloaf wafted through the corridors and drifted under the rust covered door into the small garage where the two men were working.
“That for us sir?” said Terrance looking longingly towards the door. John, taking one last look at the jumble of frayed wires and broken pistons said, “Yeah, this bitch is spent.” A broad grin broke out over Terrance’s face as he bounded out the door and out of sight. Sitting down in a nearby aluminum fold out chair John pulled out his large copper canteen from his pack and, tilting his head back took several large gulps of cool, clear water. For a while he stared into the back of his eye lids, looking intently at the small blue and purple dots that began popping up at random intervals. This drifted into thoughts about his life back home; his beautiful wife, Abby, and his small baby girl that he had only seen in pictures and brief web cam chats. Then, sinking slightly deeper in his chair, drifted off to sleep.
“Morning, babe” said Abby looking over the sleeping mass that was her husband. Shaking him slightly John awoke starring at his ceiling fan, watching the cheap plastic blades twirl around the room slowly. Then, looking up he saw Abby looking down at him with a look of impatience on her face. “Wake up, John! I made ya breakfast and the kid is at my friends so that means we have to whole day to do whatever ya want to do” her voice getting more and more sensual. John felt himself falling back asleep and through the blackness heard Abby’s voice transition over to the deep tones of Terrance who gave him a quick slap on his face.
“Wake up, sweetheart” said Terrance.
“Fuck, Terrance! I was having a good dream” said John looking and feeling though as he had just been cheated out of something.
“It was about her again, wasn’t it?” said Terrance, a worried look breaking out over his face.
“Yeah … Yeah, it was”
“Ya gotta stop doing that to yourself, man! She’s dead and your holding on like this isn’t gonna bring your wife our daughter back.”
“I … Forget it. Come on we gotta get going” said John picking himself up and walking out the door.
John was born in the small military town of Solvang; working on his family’s farm for most of his childhood. When he turned 18 he joined the UNMC’s (United Nations Marine Corp) 502nd airborne division; the biggest bunch of bad asses the military could dish out. He was promoted to Sergeant early on in his carrier after he showed valor and bravery against impossible odds at the battle of Der Mal. Physically wise he was a short man, though his broad shoulders and toned tight abs and arms gave him the appearance of being much taller. His large brown eyes had the look of pain and remorse etched into them, something he thanked the military for everyday. And his short black hair stuck to his forehead due to the ratty old Dodgers hat he refused to take off, the frayed brim dipped low over his eyes casting a dark shadow over his face giving him a slightly mysterious aura.
Terrance on the other hand was tall and lanky. He had bright blue eyes and wavy blonde hair that was usually matted down with axel grease and sweat. He had a happy-go-lucky way about him, but then again what can you expect from a greenhorn? Terrance was drafted into the UNMC three years after the War began and he was all too happy to join; brainwashed by propaganda and tales of glory. After basic training he was assigned to John’s squad as a tactical sniper, and after saving his ass more times than he cared to count, he and John became inseparable.
Yelling and Gunfire erupted into John’s ear as he lay on the blackened ground. He could feel himself being dragged over the uneven landscape and then the tug of strong hands as they hoisted him up and propped him against an over turned MRLRV; the smell of burnt rubber and the lapping warmth of fire suggested that the jeep had taken a direct hit from one of the alien mortar rounds. The next thing he knew a bright light was shown in his eye, “pupil dilation normal” said a voice which seemed strangely far off, and then the all familiar stinging sensation of someone slapping his face brought him back into coherence. The sight was one no man should see, human and alien bodies alike were strewn across valley staining the ground with dark reds and purple. “John?” said a familiar voice. Looking closely at the man in front of him he saw the worried, blood covered face of Terrance kneeling next to him shaking his shoulders. “Get the fuck up, John!” yelled Terrance yanking him to his feet, handing him his battered rifle. Looking around he could see that he was at the base of the massive cruiser, fifty or so men where crouching in its shadow breathing heavy and dripping with sweat. Putting his battered, cracked helmet back on, he cocked his rifle and peered above the slowly rotating tire. From what he could tell he could see twenty or so alien troopers sprinting in and out of cover.
“What the hell are they waiting for, why don’t they attack us already?” Said Terrance
“Fuck man, I don’t know! Why don’t ya go ask them real nice like? I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige.” Said one of the marines that shared his cover,
“Both of ya shot the hell up” yelled John, taking one last brief look over his cover as he turned around to his men. Kneeling slightly, he balanced himself against the MRLRV and said, “Alright, on my command we charge. Keep at least a two man length between each other, three men is a turkey shoot, one man is a waste of ammo.”
Closing his eyes and taking one last deep breath of the dusty, warm air John leaped over the cover and started spraying the remaining enemy forces that were hidden among the wreckage of their ship. After a few short seconds the other men followed suit. Three of them were immediately mowed down by the searing hot plasma; they laid writhing on the ground as the molten substance melted into their skin. The alien mortar fire began firing again, slamming into the middle of a group of marines instantly disintegrating them as it sent blood and bits of fabric high into the air.
“Where the fuck is our fire support,” yelled a marine crouching low behind a rock.
“I have no fucking idea!” yelled Terrance, pulling a Ranger whose leg was just blown off behind his cover.
“Someone get on the damn radio and zero in those fuckin’ mortars” yelled John, punching five rounds into an aliens’ chest sending it flying backwards.
“Yes Sir! Whiskey-Bravo 2-6 Alpha 3-9, fire for affect! Bring the rain nightstalker” yelled the radio man as he shot an alien through the head with his M4 side arm. A few moments later an alien solider leaped over the cover and dove its claws deep into the throat of the radio man, ripping his throat out and flipped him over the cover just to be swarmed by four or five other aliens who continued to tear him apart. They heard the roar of three longsword fighters tearing overhead towards the cruiser.
“MOVE, MOVE, everyone get their asses to cover now,” yelled john as he dove into a large, blackened impact crater. An overwhelmingly loud boom was heard in which I can only explain as an ear clamping moment. This was quickly followed by a blindingly bright light and intense heat as fire rushed over the top on the impact crater. After the explosion had subsided, John heaved himself out of cover and looked at the blue and white fire that was the cruiser and the glassed landscape. Taking a deep breath he said,
“Ok men; regroup at the base of the cruiser. We still got a job to do.”
The rest of the convoy soon pulled up and started to set up shop next to the massive cruiser. Out of the remaining vehicles remained five MRLRV’s, two APC’s and three Casio tanks, “not a bad turn out” some would say, but they all knew that the mission was FUBAR.
After everything had calmed down, John and his squad were assigned to board the cruiser, neutralize any enemy personal still alive and retrieve the enemy oracle (an artificial intelligence unit,) “It could change the entire outcome of the War,” said their commander, in his desperate attempt to give them a hero’s death or mindset.
The inside of the cruiser was dark and strangely damp. Flickering lights reveled just how much damage the MAC (Matter Accelerator Cannon) cannons actually did to the ship. Pipes where leaking luminescent green liquid had started to pool on the rubber floor, over turned tables and paper where strewn across the room. The soft buzz of an intercom system could be heard coming from a speaker which hung from the ceiling from a couple multicolored wires and the smell was enough to burn the hairs right out of your nose.
“What the hell is that, John?” whispered Terrance pulling his shirt over his face in a desperate attempt to get the scent out of his nose.
“Coolant fluid” said John bending down and touching the green liquid “looks like the navy kicked some ass.” “WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” yelled Terrance, giggling slightly. Getting up, John ordered two of his men to stay put and guard the entrance as he and the rest of the squad continued forward to the control room.
The way to the control room was met with little resistance. A few stragglers popped up here and there who all met the same fate, two shots in the chest and one in the head or as some would call it, “the double tap…or in this case the triple tap.” Once they reached the control room they were shocked to find the door open and the guards dead on the floor, the wall behind them was spattered with purple blood.
“Looks like nobody’s home” chuckled Terrance
“Yeah, I don’t like it. You two stay out here and guard our asses” said John pointing to the remaining two men in his squad.
John wandered into the room and walked up to a large computer screen that was shining a feeble light into the room, flashing on and off in a frantic attempt to stay alive. Turning around he canvassed the room and saw a few other monitors that had gone dark, their shadows cast ghost like figures along the floor. Red emergency lights shown from small, unseen sources heightening John’s sense of foreboding as he walked into the center of the room and flipped on his flashlight. Off in the far west corner of the room stood a small silver pedestal, a soft light was shining down from the ceiling engulfing it in a pale, dusty, veil. Walking over he peered inside and saw a small, insignificant blue orb suspended in mid air by forces he cared not worry about. Reaching inside he stretched his hand out and grasped the small silver-lined thing, it was cold to the touch and surprisingly heavy for such a tiny object. “All this shit for this,” whispered John. Pressing his chin down on his helmets com system he whispered, “Package retrieval completed, we’re pulling out now command.” Clicking his com off, he put the orb into one of his empty ammunition hostlers. Turning around he slammed right into the chest of an alien creature, covered head to toe with what he could only make out as human blood. John looked down and saw a small plasma pistol; a bright blue ball of pure energy was forming at the two tips of the weapon. The alien raised the small weapon, pointing it directly between John’s eyes. It spoke in a harsh, uneven language which he only determined as him (or her) cursing him for the things he has done. The charge left the gun in a flash of white light pulsating as it flew through the air towards its ill-fated target.
Time seemed to slow down as John looked at his pulse flying towards him; closing his eyes he waited in anticipation for the round to bury itself in his chest. But, to his surprise he felt himself being propelled sideways as Terrance rammed him out of the way of the round which impacted directly into Terrance’s chest. He crumpled to the floor in a large heap taking slow, shallow breaths as he moaned slowly. The alien made its way over to the jumble of limbs and blood to finish off its kill. But, the silence of the room was broken as Johns pistol cracked three times, all three slugs implanting them in the side of the aliens’ skull sending it flying backwards; it laid on the floor as a pool of its purple blood pooled on the floor, twitching slightly. Getting up John walked over to the alien and but his boot on its throat, it gurgled slightly as it looked up at the enraged face of his killer. Then raising his arm he pulled the trigger one last time and shot the alien directly in-between the eyes, spraying him slightly in his foes thick, purple blood and tiny bits of skull and brain. Dropping his pistol to his side he rushed to Terrance’s side. Kneeling down he turned the solider over to reveal Terrance covered in blood. Looking down he saw that the plasma round had melted through his chest plate and had burned a hole fairly deep into his chest.
“Hey, boss” said Terrance quietly.
“We’re gonna get you out of here Terrance, just hold on!” said John frantically as he pulled his friend onto his lap, rocking him slightly. “We’re gonna get ya out of here.”


THE END