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April 10th, 2003
John F. Wilkins Factory Complex, 50km outside of Anchorage.
Captain Sam Wychin stood outside a large set of double doors, propping himself up with an M16 assault rifle. He looked on as a squad of seasoned army troopers ushered another column of captured snakemen through the smoke towards the distant containment area. Master Sargeant John Poole stood next to him, looking in the same general direction.
"Damn, sir... what the hell is the general thinking, taking those snakes prisoner? I say frag 'em all..."
"Yeah." Wychin rubbed his chin which had a day's growth of beard on it. "You know, I've got an idea... where'd that sectoid go?"
"I'll get him sir." Poole looked around - sure enough, Krotyla was sitting up against a building wall, munching on a snakeman egg.
"Taste good?"
"Yes. Very... good." Krotyla took another bite.
Poole grinned. "Captain wants you. Let's go."
>"All right." Krotyla answered with his voice.
Soon, Krotyla was standing in front of Wychin.
"You can read minds, right?" Wychin asked while towering over the sectoid.
Yes, I can.
"Well, then you know what I want you to do."
Yes, I do. Krotyla looked up at the Captain.
"Then you will do it." Wychin stated. "And you know what will happen to you if
you don't."
The sectoid shrank back and nodded.
"All right, people. We've secured the resources we need - those snakemen are proving to be quite a labor force. As you've seen, we've been able to restock all your units of ammunition, as well as start production on several of the design prototypes found in Area 23." General Jackson stopped pacing around the front of the room to look at the assembled officers. "Soon, all of your troops will be equipped with the Powered Alloy Combat Vests." Jackson turned towards Captain Wychin. "Captain Wychin, I want you to take your hovercraft out to Anchorage, and do a recon run. We don't know what kind of aliens live there, or how many and what kind of technology they have. Avoid combat - we don't want the bastards to know you're coming."
"Sir, yes sir!" Wychin said as he rose up and saluted.
A half an hour later, the entirety of the Cold Force unit was assembled in a small parking garage, loading onto a pair of newly-polished APC's, loaded up with equipment and supplies for a long-term excursion. Leon McManus approached the Captain, leading what looked like a beefy white painted motorcycle.
"Leon, what the hell is that thing?" Wychin was understandably perplexed.
"It's a bike, sir. I found it in a garage of some sort... can I keep it?"
"Geez, man... first it's the hovercraft, then this freak of nature." Wychin groaned. "Yeah, you can keep it - you'll be ridin' ahead and warning us of hazards to come." Wychin grinned.
Leon grinned as well. "Yes sir!" He saluted as he strapped his sniper rifle to the side of the vehicle.
Written on February 11th, 2000 by Andrew Pokrovski AKA Captain Samuel Wychin