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Date/Time: April 3rd, 2003
Captain Samuel Wychin walked through the hallways of Area 23. Quite a morbid place, he thought - just a few months ago scientists would be walking through these hallways, accompanied by the occasional Marine. Now, the only inhabitants were corpses - russian, american, and alien. Without a second thought, he'd ordered the bodies burned.
He'd always heard about these secret Government research sites - where
U.S. personnel would work on bettering the nation's technology - and protecting
the general public from knowledge that would hurt more than it helped.
Himself, Wychin believed in keeping a firm grip on information - what you
didn't know couldn't hurt you. He shook his head. His old buddy, Robert
Clark, would have agreed. Now, Clark was probably dead, dissected by some
sort of alien. He bowed his head once again as he walked towards the place
labeled "Command Center". The place was probably nuclear-powered, as the
computers inside were blinking. Wychin smiled as he sat down in a soft
technician's chair and started tapping away at keys. He felt like a college
kid again. Tapping a button next to a microphone labeled "Public Announcement
System", he spoke - "Mike Thornside report to the Command Center. Mike
Thornside to the command center." Then, he proceeded to to continue his
keystrokes, requesting information on what this place actually was.
Several humans walked through the light snow. The ground was hard, making
progress easy and fast. One of them looked at a fellow and said -
"It's a good thing we got rid of those militia types. They'd have turned
our community upside down... "
"They did save us from the Snakemen." Another replied.
"We could have held our own if the humans hadn't attacked. These outsiders
will never understand. We've worked long and hard to create our cooperative.
It's only human not to understand what we've done. We barely overcame our
xenophobia, if you'll remember." The first looked up as he finished his
speech. Something was not right. Sunlight glinted off of a pair of metal
hovercraft approaching from the east. Raising his hand to shield his eyes
from the glare, the man tried to make out who was riding the hovercraft.
The answer soon became all too clear as a clawed hand grabbed him up from
the ground and flung him onto a hard, metal surface.
Wychin and Mike Thornside spent hours on the base's computers, logged into the base's still operational information system.When John Poole dropped by to check on the two, he'd found them playing some sort of game where the object was to kill each other repeatedly using a great variety of realistic-looking weapons. The two did, however, manage to get some workdone. Soon, a bunch of Cold Force troopers were gathered in the command center while Sargeant Poole strutted around in some sort of black kevlar vest with LED's liberally sprinkled all over.
"This, folks, is a Powered Alloy Combat Vest." Sam Wychin elaborated. "Apparently, the U.S. Government had quite a bit more resources than they let X-Com use - this vest uses basic alien alloys for protection against projectiles, but uses an electromagnetic field to dampen the containment fields of incoming energy bolts!" He paused for a second while Poole spun in place, imitating some sort of model. "There's enough here for everybody... and instead of being elerium-powered, like most X-Com equipment, these use small nuclear-charged cells for power. All you have to do is plug 'em into a standard 110 volt socket overnight, and the next morning they'll be like new!" The Captain smiled. "I'm not sure how well these will do against a plasma bolt... but I'm sure we'll find out sometime."
"Talk about government coverups..." Commented Sophie Thornside. "I mean, this stuff is straight out of Independence Day and Men In Black!"
"Yeah, where'd you get the kinda money to pay for this stuff?" Wondered her brother.
"Well... " Wychin began in a voice reminiscent of a New York accent. "You don't think they paid twenty thousand dollars for a hammah, thirty thousand for a toilet seat?" he grinned.
"Probably not..." remarked Tenchamaru, not quite understanding this apparently American humour.
As Wychin shook his head and smiled, his radio crackled.
"Sir, this is Chabert in the wrecked tank... we've got some sort of hovercraft coming over the hill, and I don't think they're bringing the friendly neighbourhood greeting team, unless Snakemen are part of it..."
"All right, Chabert. We'll be right out... and I got a present for you!"
He looked around at the people assembled in front of him. "All right guys...
out the door, third right, we've got about twenty of these combat vests...
and then outside, on the triple! MOVE! Poole, go with 'em and show 'em
how to put these things on." He ran alongside Paul Augsberg, the last in
line.
"Squaddie, do you have short feet?"
"No sir..." The Squaddie replied, not quite getting the joke.
"Well, then MOVE IT!" Wychin yelled. In fact, the survivors of the Cold Force were the cream of the crop, he thought. But, these people needed to be whipped into good military shape. Otherwise... at the rate he was losing guys like Kienas, the Cold Force wouldn't be much of a force at all very soon...
A few minutes later, Wychin was standing on top of the wrecked tank, looking through a pair of binoculars at a pair of advancing snakeman hovercraft. Snapping a belt of high-explosive ammo into his chaingun, he looked around at the team. How the hell had those Snakemen found out about the base? He'd find out soon... but now he had a more immediate problem to take care of.
Written on December 31st by Andrew Pokrovski AKA Captain Samuel Wychin