Oliver Strong's Blog - Posts Tagged "space-marine"

‘This is it,’ shouted Captain Gibson, ‘we will be reinforcing U.S. Colonial forces in Firebase Lima, and by the time this is over I want them to understand what a bunch of pussy ass bitches they are!’
The Company shouted over the klaxon and bustle of mechanics loading Blackbirds into launch tubes, ‘YES SIR!’
‘What is the motto of the Necron Marine Corp?’
‘VICTORY OR DEATH, SIR!’
‘And you’re already dead so that only leaves one option, am I right?’
‘YES SIR!’
‘WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING HANGING AROUND HERE? LET’S KICK SOME ASS!’ he dismissed the Company into Blackbirds, one assigned for each platoon.
Victor lead his Marines into the rear hatch, they secured themselves in seats along its interior wall, similar to a rollercoaster. Weapons secured the rear hatch rose, Victor took one last look at his home before it disappeared, he felt a jolt as the Blackbird loaded into her tube.
‘Good morning, I will be your pilot today. The weather on Alpha B is somewhat unpleasant, humidity high, temperature a cool twenty degrees centigrade but heating up to the mid-forties as we approach afternoon.’
The inner hatch to S.S. Necron closed, atmosphere drained and the outer hatch opened, gravity fell to zero, the Blackbird’s engines fired against Necron’s blast plate, claws holding the craft in place released and they rocketed into space, ‘WHOOOAAAAAAHHHH YEEEHHHH!’ screamed the pilot.
Victor felt G-forces tugging his body as his consciousness caught up with it. If it weren’t for the nanite solution running through his veins he’d have passed out. Captain Gibson rolled his eyes, another dumb flyboy who thought it was all about him, they were ten to the penny.
Carriers, Destroyers and Cruisers battled in space while Green Company made for Alpha Centauri B.
They gathered speed leaving behind a torrid space battle, Victor no longer sensed the drag of acceleration, he bumped up and down as Alpha B’s atmosphere pushed against three Blackbird’s entering in formation; Passing the planet’s equator in a choppy, electrically charged equinox, two powerful scram jets kicked into action with a thump.
‘We are now entering the atmosphere at a speed of,’ he paused to look at his dial, ‘Mach 37, the air is charged, your Blackbird is hot and I’m amped!’
Blackbirds moved with such speed air molecules within the alien atmosphere split releasing an electrical charge and generating a thunderstorm for the Drax below.
‘It’s about five in the morning at our destination …’ the pilot paused, ‘Shit! LZ’s hot! I’m picking up small arms fire sir.’
Captain Gibson smiled, his Marines smiled back, ‘LOCK AND LOAD MARINES!’

Oliver StrongNecron (part 2): Fortunate son

Victor stepped inside, Gibson motioned to the hatch and he closed it.
‘Sit down Lieutenant.’
As Victor sat Gibson tossed a file before him, the Captain preferred hard copies, why was still a mystery, ‘What’s up?’
‘You ever heard of Osamu Shinko?’
‘Does it go well with soy sauce?’
Gibson pulled out a pack of cigarettes, ‘Smoke?’
Victor took one, Gibson lit it with his white gold lighter, ‘Osamu Shinko is the Chairman and owner of Shinko Refineries, ring a bell?’
Vic took a drag then opened his file, a picture of a Japanese man and his family greeted his eyes, ‘I remember the name.’
‘Shinko are the largest Yeonum refiners in the Terran system, all Terran fleets depend on him for fuel. In short without this man the human species is dead in the water and we’re dead in space, no pun intended.’
Victor examined the file page by page coming across a distinctly non-Japanese face, ‘What about this guy?’
‘That’s Manlio Cuoco.’
Victor exhaled a puff of smoke, ‘The Cuckoo man?’
‘Shinko’s daughter disappeared, until a couple of weeks ago,’ Gibson tapped his table. A recording previously broadcast over GalNet played out.
‘Greetings children of Christ, children of Mohammed, children of Buddha …’ Gibson fast forwarded, ‘I Jesus Christ reborn into this mortal coil reach out to you one and all. Do not permit fear to distort your perception of reality, of the truth, God’s truth, for I am …’ Gibson fast forwarded again.
‘Jesus Christ that guy likes to talk,’ noted Victor.
‘Yeh and mostly about himself. I had to sit through the whole damn thing so think yourself fortunate Lieutenant.’
The recording began to play again, ‘In a historic ceremony to take place this month, I Christ, your lord, shall take the hand of the thirteenth apostle reborn into the mortal coil of Ophelia Shinko in a ceremony all may witness,’ the camera panned out to reveal a Japanese woman in her late teens holding the hand of Manlio Cuoco, ‘I and my disciples invite all to witness a merging of flesh and soul the universe has awaited since time began, and in doing so humanity takes another step towards peace in the universe,’ Gibson cut the transmission.
‘She didn’t look like she was being held against her will.’
Gibson pulled a bottle of scotch from a desk drawer along with two glasses, ‘Who gives a shit? Shinko’s paying us to retrieve her, besides if it was your daughter what would you do?’
Zellmann took a sip of malt whisky recently shipped from the surface, ‘When you put it that way.’
‘Delta Company will get the job.’
‘Fine by me.’
‘Not when you find out what Shinko’s offering … fifty thousand Nippon tax rights per Marine, one hundred thousand per junior officer and another hundred grand for the man that brings Manlio in alive.’
‘That’s a sweet deal, but I don’t need the cash.’
‘Tell that to your platoon, Lieutenant.’
Victor thought on it, he might not care about the money but they probably did, ‘So why won’t we get it?’
‘It’s a boarding action. Bravo Company’s been pounding dirt on Alpha B for the last thirteen months, no practical experience.’
‘You have.’
‘One Captain ain’t gonna cut it Lieutenant.’
Victor examined the file, ‘Can I keep this for a while sir?’
‘Knock yourself out.’
Victor polished off his drink, ‘Thanks for the whisky.’
Gibson’s eyes widened as Victor sloshed it down, ‘Hey that’s Scotch!’
‘Whatever, can I be dismissed sir?’
‘Sure, inform the other platoon leads.’
‘Wilco,’ Victor saluted.
Gibson returned the salute and replied in an annoyed tone, ‘You’re welcome.’

Necron (part 3): Pretend That We're Dead