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Captain Samuel Wychin looked for the last time at the body of yet another one of his troopers whose new home was to be the cold, hard, alaskan dirt. Some unlucky army privates were on grave detail and worked quickly and quietly to dig a suitably-sized hole, and stick the body in. Perhaps they weren't so unlucky, mused Wychin. After all, the main body of the army was marching down the highway towards Anchorage - soon, they'd be fighting, and most likely dying. These privates would at least get a few extra hours of life.
The dead man's name was Paul Augsberg. Wychin never really got to know the guy - he just sort of tagged along with the Cold Force ever since they escaped from the alien battleship. The man was always quiet, and didn't question orders too much. Then, one day, during a firefight, he simply snapped, pulling out a desert eagle and blowing his own brains out.
Wychin took a deep breath - he'd learned not to mourn losses inflicted upon his unit in combat. He looked around at the other people in his unit. Sophie Thornside stood quietly looking at Augsberg's covered body, with John Poole holding a comforting arm around her. The rest of the Cold Force was probably asleep, with the exception of Leon McManus, who was stood next to Wychin.
Only an hour ago, Sophie had approached Sam and asked to be relieved of command duties. She listed off a whole mess of reasons which he didn't really bother paying attention to. 'You were a pretty good commander', Sam told her after she had finished. 'Don't worry, I'll find someone else...'.
"Sir... I never got a chance to say thanks." McManus interrupted Wychin's musing.
Wychin looked at the man. "What for?"
"For coming after me... sir."
Wychin gave the man a blank stare. "Don't thank me. Thank your luck - I didn't even know you were in that facility..."
McManus nodded in understanding.
"I thought I told you to quit being a hero." Wychin's mouth curled upward in the resemblance of a smile.
McManus nodded again. "You know me sir..." he chuckled.
"I've been thinking, Leon." Wychin rubbed the day's growth of beard on his chin. "And I think you may learn to quit being a hero when you've got other people's lives on the line, besides yours. I'll make you a squad leader. We'll see how you do then, 2nd Lieutenant."
McManus looked up, surprised at the near-instantaneous and seemingly random promotion. "I'll try my best, sir." He saluted in an unusually crisp fashion.
"We'll see." Wychin nodded. "We'll see."
The privates continued digging away. Soon, the bodies of Paul Augsberg, Kathrina Bowman, and the dead radioman were laid in the cold, hard, earth.
The helicopter bucked as it fired a salvo of missiles at an alien hovercraft passing underneath. The unfortunate vehicle buckled under the explosion and was sent careening past a non-functional traffic light and into the side of a building, where it exploded in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics. Captain Sam Wychin looked outside to see the second helicopter, carrying his second team, flying alongside.
"Captain, we're about a minute away from the drop zone, so get ready!" a nameless pilot in the front of the chopper yelled.
Wychin nodded and turned to a last minute weapons check. His backpack wasn't standard army fare - it was a essentially a giant battery which provided power for the Mark I US Army laser rifle - developed in Area 23, mass manufactured in the Wilkins factory complex.
"This rifle fires your average compressed beams of light in a burst with a duration of several hundred microseconds. It'll heat up whatever it hits, causing massive burn damage." Mike Thornside continued explaining the workings of the weapon to the team over the radio. "If you hold down the green button, you can direct more power to the discharge unit, thus causing your shot to have greater power, and often go through solid objects, slicing them in half on the way through. Watch out, though, this thing is only semi-automatic, so you can't go around spraying fire with it like a chaingun. Watch your shots!"
Wychin blinked as he absorbed the information. The Cold Force had been issued these weapons right after the briefing - which ordered the team behind the enemy lines. Before he could think any more on the matter, the helicopter slowed down.
"Get your asses ready to move, troopers! We'll reach the drop zone in 10... 9... 8... 7..."
"It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum... and you damn well better know exactly what it is that I'm out of!" Wychin yelled into his headset. "Time to show these aliens what we do when we go on the offensive. Prepare to deploy!"
Written on February 29th, 2000 by Andrew Pokrovski AKA Captain Samuel Wychin