Spartan One 022

As soon as everyone had moved into the straight corridor, they took up position behind crates, benches, and push-carts, anything at all that could minimize their profiles. 

Orion figured it was useless to take cover next to a bench, and most of the objects would only slow a Xenomorph down by a second or two at most. Instead, he preferred to retain his mobility, and rely upon both the motion trackers, esp, and enhanced biology to react to the enemy. 

The motion tracker in Corporal Hicks's hands was pulsing like mad, and he looked up at everyone else with a solemn look to his face. “They’re all around us.”

“Correction, Marine, we are the reclaimers. They fear our advance, fear the power of Human ingenuity! Listen up! Whoever has the highest body count by the end of this engagement is getting a bonus, and a week's worth of paid vacation.” Orion roared as he slammed several shells into his shotgun. A loud click resounded throughout the hallway as he racked his gun. “Now prepare for battle.” 

The ten Spartans shifted without a word. Their all black ODST armor drank in the emergency lighting, and they then took a knee-conspicuously just out of range of a tail swipe from the ceiling-forming a circular position so that all angles of attack were covered. 

Apone planted himself next to a trash barrel, whilst Vasquez braced her Smartgun against a bench, aiming into a dark doorway. Hicks kept the tracker up, whilst Ripley and Bishop stood behind the Marines, near a sealed access door.

A scraping, thumping sound came from above, and the dim red emergency lamps shook. 

“Contact!” Hicks shouted.

The first Xenomorph dropped through a vent, and before its feet could touch the floor, a Spartan had already reacted to its appearance. One round punched through the creature’s knee; the second entered the back of its skull, exploding brain matter all over the floor. Dropping dead, it slowly melted into the grating as a pile of yellow blood. 

Another came low, skittering under the pipes. A second Spartan put a round through its open mouth, making it slide to a stop at Apone’s boots.

Xenomorphs poured from the vents and side passages, climbing over one another, their claws ticking against the walls. The Spartans answered with measured bursts. They didn’t unleash lead like a firehose at a fire, but instead were like a precision missile going for the head. Each shot landed where it mattered: through an open jaw, into a joint, at the base of a skull. One alien leaped for a helmet and was knocked out of the air by a single shot through its throat. Another came sideways along the wall; a Spartan pivoted and clipped its head cleanly before it reached the Marines.

The Colonial Marines, meanwhile, fired with everything they had, but fear made some of them waste rounds. Hudson’s rifle bucked as he tried to track three targets at once. Apone readjusted his soldiers' aim as best he could, but the firefight was so close quarters and intense, he could barely keep his own head, much less order his men. Vasquez, meanwhile, poured fire downrange, blasting three Xenomorphs into swiss cheese. The corridor flashed white with muzzle bursts, and spent casings bounced across the deck like candy knocked out of a piñata at a birthday party. 

A cluster of six Xenomorphs broke from the far end together, charging over the bodies of their own dead. Orion stepped past the firing line, and blue-white energies swirled in his eyes. To outsiders, it was like a flaming aura coated his skull. 

“Down!” He roared, then thrust out a palm. 

A blue-violet distortion snapped into existence before the oncoming pack. The air folded around the aliens as [Warp] seized them in place. 

For a second it was as if time had stopped for the alien bastards, then their bodies twisted inward, limbs wrenching at acute angles, then going into weird positions like a pretzel. The field collapsed in a blinding pulse of light. All six Xenomorphs came apart at once, flung against the walls in steaming fragments. So powerful was the enhanced version of [Warp], all that was left of the Xenomorphs were hot piles of acidic goop. 

The Spartans held their fingers at the ready, scanning their surroundings for any more threats as no more enemies had revealed themselves. However, Orion sensed that more were on the way, and that this first wave was a test. Doubtlessly the hive Queen was monitoring the situation, and would adjust her tactics as the fight dragged on. 

“Reload, reload! They're coming in less than 15 seconds.” Orion barked. 

“You heard the LT, double time, Marines! Don't let the Spartans laugh at our training.” Apone shouted even louder. 

“Sarge, I only have a clip left.” One Marine said in a panicked tone. 

“Me too!” Another said with a pale face. 

Orion wordlessly tossed over a handful of magazines from his inventory, and then frowned as he felt a lot of lifeforms coming their way. They didn't feel as threatening as a Xenomorph individually, but something was off about this situation. 

“We've got a lot incoming.” Hicks swallowed hard, and pointed towards the door that led deeper into the base. 

At that moment, when everyone was most distracted, and the motion trackers were overwhelmed, a Xenomorph-crawling exceptionally slowly-silently dropped down behind Vasquez.

Orion sensed something dropping behind several feet to his side, and aimed his shotgun, but if he unloaded at this moment, it would be a case of friendly fire! He quick swapped to dual magnums, but his heart dropped. He wasn't fast enough! 

The alien had slipped through a maintenance hatch and came at her from the rear. Its tail whipped around the Smartgun’s frame, wrenching the weapon sideways. Vasquez twisted trying to draw her service pistol, but the creature’s second claw caught her shoulder and slammed her against the wall. Its inner jaws spread inches from her face.

Johnson hit it like a charging bull.

He hooked an arm around Vasquez’s harness and hauled her clear as the inner mouth snapped shut on empty air. His other hand drove his shotgun up under the creature’s skull. The burst blew it backward into the hatch. Acid spattered the wall and hissed against Johnson’s armor.

“Get your damn hands off my gun.” Vasquez snarled, recovering her footing, and pushed the Private away. The tomboy acted gruff, yet was shaking as she poured some hot led up the chute. 

“I believe what you were trying to say there was ‘thank you.’” Johnson snapped back. 

She gave him a hard look, then resumed loading a big box into her heavy machine gun. “I had it.”

“What can I say, except you're welcome.” Johnson shrugged his shoulders, and smirked back. 

“Idiot. Wipe that acid off!” Vasquez said, and desperately looking around, she found a spray can amongst the discarded items that lined the hallway, and she power washed the few drops that had landed on the man. 

“Aww. She does care.” Johnson laughed. 

“Dumbass puta.” Vasquez muttered under her breath, but the concern in her voice was real.

Whilst the pair of soldiers totally weren't flirting, something slammed against the deck beside Lieutenant Gorman. The pasty faced Marine fell down in fear, accidentally dodging a claw that had swiped at his head. 

Ripley was the only one who could provide support at that moment, and in her panic, raised a trembling hand, aiming her magnum. When she depressed the trigger, the bullet had flown true, but the Xenomorph-ducking down to grab at Gorman-had likewise, accidentally dodged an attack! 

It paused in its actions, realizing that Ripley was a larger threat. Slowly turning towards her, the monster took one meaty step forward, prowling like a predator. Before she could adjust her aim, and take another shot, a hissing noise came from nearby. She had struck a large industrial canister full of gas! Seconds later, compressed gas blasted backward, ripping the canister free from its restraints, and launching it down the corridor. It struck the alien squarely between the shoulders and knocked it sprawling before it could reach her. 

Pinned against a wall, the Xenomorph's limbs were flailing like a fly trapped in the spider's web. 

“Die motherfucker.” Ripley viciously swore, and wildly shot the magnum into all parts of the alien's body, attempting to inflict as much pain into her hated foe as much as possible until it stopped wriggling. 

After mag-dumping the creature, Ripley's shaking stopped, and she cleanly dropped the magazine out of the loader, and slid a fresh clip into her gun with a satisfying snap. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the still cowering Gorman, then killed another alien that was glimpsing down at them through the vent. 

The defenders were winning the corridor, but the tracker kept filling with contacts. Marine rifles clicked empty one after another. Apone called for a magazine count; the answers came back thin. The Spartans still had ammunition, but they couldn’t cover every hatch while the Marines reloaded.

Bishop looked up. “Movement in the vents. I am detecting small organisms.”

Shortly thereafter, facehuggers poured out like pale, frantic hands. Some scuttled along the floor beneath the Marines’ line of fire. Others dropped from ceiling grates onto shoulders and helmets.

“Watch your feet!” Ripley shouted.

A grunt kicked one away, but another latched around his wrist, crawled up his sleeve, and sprang onto his helmet. He clawed at it as it wrapped its tail around his neck and sealed over his visor. A facehugger dropped from the vent onto the Marine beside him, striking his faceplate hard enough to crack it before clamping over his face. Both men went down as the swarm rushed over them. Their legs kicked against the deck, then fell still. Apone tried to reach them, but more facehuggers swarmed between the Marines’ boots, forcing the line to break apart.

“Fall back!” Gorman yelled. His voice cracked through the gunfire. “Everybody back to the LZ! Move!”

Orion started to turn. “Gorman, hold position, Sergeant, get that flamer out here on the double!” 

The Lieutenant had already spun around and bolted. A ceiling panel burst open above him, and a Xenomorph dropped onto his back, tail looping around his chest and pinning his arms. It could have driven its inner jaws through his skull, instead, it tightened its hold and dragged him bodily toward the vent.

“Ahhhhh!!!” Gorman screamed and kicked, boots hammering the deck. Orion couldn't worry about the man as he began tossing grenades into the swarm to thin the numbers, and filled one end of the hallway with [Warp], spamming it as often as his cooldowns would allow. 

The Sergeant meanwhile was coating the ceiling with flames, making the facehuggers curl up all blackened like overcooked shrimp. 

Gorman’s cries rang through the metal passage, growing fainter as the Xenomorph dragged him deeper into Hadley’s Hope.

Orion’s voice cut across the corridor as he began to reorganize the line, and lead the combined squads to victory. “Forward! Spartans, seal the vents. Marines, cover Ripley!”

The squad moved at once, black armor advancing through smoke and acid steam. Apone and Hicks dragged the surviving grunts behind the Spartans while Vasquez and another Marine held the far end. Johnson took the flank, firing short bursts at anything that moved. Ripley kept her magnum trained on the vent.

From somewhere deep inside Hadley’s Hope came another chorus of shrieks, and the distant-yet all too near-fire from the hangar. 

“Good! The distraction is working as intended! Scan those Marines for biological implantations. If they're infected…Sergeant,  you know what to do. Everyone else, on me. We are getting out of this in one piece. To the research labs!”