Pg 4?
I ambled over to a large rock and slumped against it. From the outside, the ship seemed almost fully intact, except for a destroyed fuel drum and some broken windows. Most of the damage was internal, and if it wasn't fixed soon, the fires spreading inside would prevent it from ever being repaired.
"Hello?" I called out.
No answer.
Limping around on the barren ash-covered island, I found several hills and patches of soft earth, most of which I avoided due to the veins of lava running through them. As I walked, I began to notice a trail of footprints leading to and from the ship. After following them for the better part of an hour, I came up on a makeshift camp that the surviving passengers and crew had created.
The camp was made up of a small ridge of earth to the north, A few huts made from scrapmetal salvaged from the ship, and a bunker to the south, also made of scrapmetal. After having a doctor look at my leg, I decided it would be best to scout around some more. I loaded a backpack with supplies, and called two soldiers to accompany me.
We roamed the alien landscape for hours, being careful not to step in potholes filled with lava and avoiding miniature volcanos, stopping here and there for a drink and to rest. Three hours passed and we decided it was probably a good time to return to our camp.
TAKTAKTAK! Shots rang out in the distance.
As we made our way up the slope that lead to the camp, the sounds of gunfire grew louder and somtimes a stray bullet would fly overhead. When we got to it, the camp was in ruin. Bodies everywhere, Few doctors tending to the many wounded. Machineguns lit up the bunkers, our only line of defense against the invaders.
I walked over to our strategist, hoping to learn more about what was going on.
"What's happenning!?" I screamed.
"We're under attack by some kind of goddamn aliens!" he shouts in reply.
Our head scientist ambles up, a crutch holding up the left side of his body.
"They're somewhat similar to lizards, except they're very large and stand on their hind legs. They've got horns up and down their backs and excrete a fine layer of goo to keep their body temperature stable. Unfortunately, they have very thick scales, and our machineguns aren't doing much to stop them. Captain, you should think of an evac strategy before it's too late."
This was news to me. Our standard issue infantry assault rifle, known as the "Firestorm," was capable of taking just about any flesh-and-blood creature's life in a matter of seconds. Firing .308 incendiaries from it's dual primary barrels and Napalm shells from it's grenadelauncher, anything advancing on the marine wielding it was usually reduced to a heap of ash and charred bone.
"They're breaking through! Retreat!" yelled a distant voice...
Poll