Dark Hope: Season 2

[NinjaCombatace]

Oopenheimer crackled over the radio.
"Clark!" he screamed.
"Hola!" Clark said in a Spanish accent. Clark tossed a grenade at the crystal. No effect.
"Grimsfelds been wiped!" Oopenheimer screamed again. Clark froze.
"What?" he said calmly.
"I've got his disc, but the body is in bad shape," Oopenheimer continued.
"Colonel! Incoming Gasods! Closing fast! Open fire!" one of the soldiers screamed.
"Damnit, gotta go," Oopenheimer closed the radio to the sound of silenced gunfire.
"Damn," Clark muttered. He looked back at the crystal. He looked down, to the bottom of the crystal. He saw a glowing green control panel.
"Bray, grenade me up!" he screamed.
"Its my last one!" Bray replied. He muttered and gave Clark the grenade. He pulled the pin and tossed it to the bottom. It exploded, destroying the panel. The shield glowed a bright blue, and disappeared.
"Help me with this one?" Clark asked, picking up a dead Gasod by the legs. Bray got the arms, and they heaved him to the crystal. The Gasod smacked it, trailing blue blood all the way down.
"White Eagle, this is Clark. The shield is disabled. I repeat, the shield is disabled. We're tossing the C4 bundle now," Clark said. The transmission ended in a large explosion.

-Aboard the White Eagle-

"Fire the Talon!" Admiral Peppers screamed. The White Eagle rumbled. The ship split into two pylons, revealing a central funnel and other gizmos. It began to pulse red.
"Fire." Admiral Peppers said. A bright red beam cut across the sky, moving in a circular motion, cutting any Gasod ship it touched into pieces. The space infront of them was covered in fire and burning Gasod ships. It continued cutting back and forth, utterly massacring the Gasod fighters.

-Back on the planet-

Oopenheimer looked up at the night sky. There was a red beam and explosions around it. He smiled, then rolled back, firing his P90.

[C480053]

The burning embers of the laser turrents gently subsided. The Gasod fleet hesistated, shocked that their defenses had been brought low so quickly. "Sir, they're regrouping around the central battle cluster."
"Excellent," replied Admiral Peppers, "prepare a new firing solution for the Talon, maximum effect."
A moment later the tactical officer reported that the solution was complete.
"Fire."
The red beam lance into the battlegroup, arcing as it went, cutting through the Gasod fleet like a scalpel. Several of their carriers were cut in two. The fleet scattered from the wreckage, fleeing in all directions. "We've got them on the run," exclaimed a young officer.
"Not quite," assesed Peppers, "Their Praetor won't give up so easily."
As he said this the scattered fleet came at them all at once. Due to their dispersal, the Talon could only fire on single targets. "Tell the 7th to hold the perimeter around us, fire on all of their carriers and heavies. If their fighters mass around us, we'll be slowly picked apart."

--- On the 4th planet ---

Clark, Bray and Oopenheimer had joined together again, with Grimsfeld in tow. They were making their way to the eastern exit where their extraction area was. "Oopenheimer to extraction team we're on our way, how's our exit?" Only static responded. "Extraction come in." Still nothing. Inside the compound every concievable alarm had gone off. The recon team was mowing down every surprised Gasod they came across, never stopping to take cover. They finally reached the exit and spiled out into a courtyard. It was as if a solar eclipse had begun. Only the gargantuan silhouette was of a Gasod battle mech. Fortunately it was still powering up, its pilot just having entered the cockpit. This gave the team just enough time to dive behind some crates before the air was saturated with plasma fire. "Now THIS is just a little unfair," muttered Clark, "so any solutions?"
"We could snipe the huge mech," retorted Oopenheimer sarcastically. Being a recon team, no one had brought heavy weapons. Luckily the crates they were behind seemed to be resistant to plasma. "Well we've gotta do something fast," Bray said. Across the courtyard, they could see at least twenty Gasod swarming out of a doorway. Oopenheimer slamed his elbow into a crate with frustration.

[NinjaCombatace]

The recon team was laying down suppresive fire, the Gasod spider mech firing its plasma batteries and plasma accelerators.
"Oopenheimer, if we don't move now, these crates are gonna shatter on us! I radioed in to the White Eagle, but haven't gotten a response," Clark said, a chunk of the crate blown out from behind him. He instantly dove back down, and crawled to the edge of the crates, firing his P90. The 5.7x28mm SS190 bullets richocheted off the armor. A Gasod drop ship landed, dropping a Gasod defense tank.
"Recon team, lets capture that tank!" Clark and Oopenheimer screamed in unison. They both rushed forward, as the spider mech fired plasma accelerators at them. A plasma accelerator threw a recon member flying. Oopenheimer slipped, and ran back for him. He began helping him towards the tank, as Clark fired his P90 at the tank commander.
"We got the tank Oopenheimer! We got it!" Clark screamed. He turned around, and saw Oopenheimer running with a recon member on his back.
"Thats great! But, can you give me some help over here?" Oopenheimer cried. Clark began running towards him.

---In the spider mech---
"One of the terrans carrying an injured one is in our sights for the Pesl'Grea. Requesting permission to fire," the young Gasod said.
"Make their bodies a burning hole in our great planet!"

---Back on the ground---
Oopenheimer was running towards Clark. He turned towards the spider mech to estimate how far he was from it. As he turned, a streak of green ripped through his body armor, his internal organs, and out the back of his armor. He fell over, his mouth spewing blood.
Clark ran double time, grabbing Oopenheimers arm, and dragging him to the cover the new tank gave them.
"Medic!" Clark screamed. A medic came by, and looked at Oopenheimer.
"He's bleeding internally, and it looks like his stomach has been pierced. I don't have the equipment to patch him up. I'd say he has about fifteen minutes before we need to take his dogtags," the medic said grimly.
A plasma accelerator shot ripped into the tank, cutting the turret in half. Colonel Ryan Clark stood up, his P90 in his hand. He looked down, and saw two men forming a defense around the soon to die Oopenheimer and the comatose Grimsfeld. Bray was firing his P90 to no avail. Clark looked back up. He ripped out the empty magazine from his P90, and shoved a new one in there, and began running towards the spider mech. Plasma shells exploded around him. He was a man who knew his fate.

[C480053]

The world went black as Oopenheimer toppled over into the dust. His nerves burnt, the corporal didn't feel the mortal wound. An unknown hand grabbed his shoulder, "You're going going to be alright sir. Just hang on."

... just hang on

It was fifteen years ago when Oopenheimer heard those same words. At that time the wiry colonel was only a lieutenant. He was on a supposed minor colony of the Gasod, so unimportant to them that they only gave the planet a number ... or so it seemed to the eyes of the Terrans. Oopenheimer and his squad was to do recon on a strange fortified structure on the far side of the planet. It was there that they found a research facility.

"Patterson, hand me the field binocs," requested Oopenheimer. His second in command obliged. Zooming in the young lieutenant saw, throught the haze of the night vision, a guard turret jutting out of the ground with Gasod soldiers patroling its crest. Below the occasional unarmed Gasod disappeared and reappeared from the ground. "The facility must be underground," commented Oopenheimer, handing Patterson the binoculars. "Want to take a look?" asked the curious 2nd lieutenant, "we can probably find an opening to get inside."
"Why not? Mills, Graneger stay low and out of sight. Patterson and I are going in for a closer look." Oopenheimer was always up for a challenging adventure ... back then.

The two easily found an air vent to crawl into. The research facility was strangly empty. The two stayed inside the vent until they came across a huge opening, spilling into a conical chamber. Lookiong down the pair saw five Gasod scientists concentrated over one glowing panel. In the center of the room was a grav-tube, keeping a dark baseball-sized blob suspended in mid-air. "Definitely a research station," muttered Oopneheimer, snapping off a few pictures, "probably working on anti-matter. We'd better get back to command to report this." Patterson and the lieutenant made it out off the facility without incident. They came across the hill where Mills and Graneger were. No one was there. "Mills, Graneger, this is Oopenheimer, come in," whispered Oopenheimer over the comm. No one replied. Patterson climbed to the top off the hill, "Sir, you better come see this." Oopenheimer joined his second in command. The ground was scorched in various places, the tell tale signs of plasma fire. Beyond the hill was a forest and their recon craft, hidden in the brush. "Dammit, lets get back to the ship," said Oopenheimer.
"Mills and Granny?"
"We'll see."
The two hurried into the darkness of the thicket. They had only been in the woods for a minute when a plasma shot sizzled through the air, narrowly missing their heads. The two men dove ino the bush. Rustling could be heard all around them, the laughing of Gasod could be heard through the trees. None could be seen. Taking their chances, the soldiers broke cover and dashed forward. The air sang with bolts of plasma, but they all went wide. "Shit, they're toying with us," cursed Patterson, backpeddling and firing at random shadows.
"It's no use, we need to get out of here now," barked Oopenheimer. The distinct whooping of gleeful Gasod on the hunt filled the woods. Always the two ran, dodging sparodic bursts of plasma fire. One of these bursts caught Oopenheimer in the calf. It felt like his leg was on fire. Patterson wrapped Oopenheimer's arm around his shoulder. "You'll be ok sir, the craft isn't far now." Smelling the charred flesh and hearing the cry of the wounded terran, the Gasod redoubled their taunting fire, always from the distant cover of the thicket. Another fifteen minutes of being hunted down by wolves found Patterson staggering into the clearing where the recon craft was, and that was when the Gasod decided that their little game was up. The air became saturated with plasma fire. "We'll be ok sir, just hang on, just hang AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A precise plasma bolt took Patterson in the back, right below Oopenheimer's arm. He could feel the heat searing into his comrade's flesh. They toppled over into the dust. Oopenheimer could see the feet of advancing Gasod, lauging over their helpless prey. They pried a flailing Patterson off of Oopenheimer. Laughing still, they drained their weapons into the poor man's body, reducing him to ash. The screams would stay with Oopenheimer, forever. The Gasod reduced Oopenheimer's leg to ash after they were bored with spreading Patterson's ashes into the wind. Then left, leaving the lieutenant at the foot of his craft to tell the tale his his lost men. All they really left, was a burning hatred.