Hard Landing (A WIP short story)

[writermonkey]

Okay, so it's a rough start, and it will probably be typo-tastic, but I need to write something different as my main project has hit a lovely case of writer's block. Well, I say different, military sci fi is the stuff I first started writing, so really I'm going back to step one.
So, you try to enjoy it and I'll try and update regularly, sound fair?
Good.

I

Rain pattered lightly off the hull of a downed Thunder Bird transport, it beat out a staccato rhythm that was entirely covered up by barking reports of gunfire. The city of Delpha, on the planet of Fortia Minor was a war zone, and Thunder Bird Kilo two one had been shot down right in the middle of it.

Half an hour earlier

Alex tapped the comm button above his head as he was prepping for take off said, “I'm Alex, and I'll be your pilot for your flight to Delpha. Please keep your arms and legs inside the bird at all times while we're in the air, and my beautiful assistant Ryland will be there in a moment to offer refreshments. If you have any questions please direct them to him, as I will be too busy being your dashing pilot.” He released the comm button, and flicked a switch behind the control stick to ignite the main engines. He pressed the comm button again, “oh, and the Emperor protects.”

Twenty five minutes later

Kilo two one banked wildly, lurching like a prize fighter being given a knockout blow.
“We're hit.” Ryland announced from his seat next to Alex.
“No, really? I thought we ran over a puppy.” Alex said, wrestling the control stick, fighting to keep Kilo two one in the air. The bird lurched again as the left engine exploded. Alex hit the comm button, “everyone make sure you're strapped in, we're landing very soon and it will be rough.” He cursed as he continued fighting his losing battle with the laws of physics.
“Ryland, get back there and make sure they're strapped in, then strap yourself in.”
“Alex,” Ryland started.
“That's an order, sergeant.” Alex said.
Ryland nodded and got shakily to his feet.
“The Emperor protects.” Alex said, though he knew that nothing would protect him from what was about to happen.

Five minutes later

Ryland's vision swam and his ears weren't working properly. All he could hear was a high pitched ringing sound accompanied by the muffled sounds of the PDF squad he shared the back of the Thunder Bird with. His arms felt heavy when he tried to unbuckle his harness, like they were made from concrete. He fumbled with the latch for what felt like hours before it finally snapped open. He fell from his seat to the floor and landed on his hands and knees and threw up. He tried to get up, failed and fell into his own vomit, then tried again, this time with a little more success.
“Alex,” he shouted as he shuffled towards the cockpit door. He ignored the PDF troops around him as most of them repeated his performance, though with less vomiting. Three had died on impact, and one had a shin bone poking out of his fatigues. Blood soaked his leg and he was screaming. Someone was crouched over him injecting him with morphine.
“Alex,” Ryland shouted again as he opened the door.
The cockpit, formerly big enough for two grown men to sit in, had been compressed to a quarter of that size in the crash. There was no sign of Alex, he was entirely lost within the jumble of twisted metal. Strangely Ryland felt no sense of loss, though he knew he would if he lived long enough to make sense of what had happened.
He turned to see the surviving PDF troops forming up outside the drop ship, checking their gear. The one with a broken shin had now had a las hole in his head too. Ryland looked around the back of the drop ship for the weapon locker. He knew it was in the bottom left corner of the compartment, close to the exit hatch, but for some reason it took him what felt like an eternity to find it. Once he had, he took a compact, bullpup auto carbine from it, along with four spare mags. He checked he still had his pistol and silencer in the holster at his thigh, then followed the troops.

[writermonkey]

II

The squad was a rag tag bunch, they looked like they'd been taken from opposite corners of the PDF. Maybe even opposite corners of the planet. There were two men who wore insignia of the engineer corps, they carried large backpacks, though Ryland had no clue what was in them. There was a sniper, a wiry man with long (for a PDF trooper) dark hair, and the most ridiculous glare shades Ryland had ever seen. They were roughly the size of a small cargo freighter, and made even more stupid by the fact that it was raining. Fortia Minor hadn't seen sun for weeks. The sniper was stood slouched with his long las cradled like a baby, behind him stood someone Ryland assumed was his spotter. He had a combat rifle model las rifle, designed for longer range engagements than the standard pattern las rifle with half way decent optics installed. There was a set of binoculars clipped to his belt and he had a similar stance to the sniper, like they'd spent a lot of time together and subconcioulsy started mimicking each other.
The three remaining troops were a man and two women, both armed with slightly modified las rifles and shotguns slung across their backs. The las rifles had shorter barrels and no stocks, and Ryland noticed the shot guns had been shortened as well. What ever was going on was not a standard opp. Ryland recognised one of the women, he couldn't say from where, but he knew her face. When she looked at him he noticed an expression cross her face that said she recognised him too. She had short red hair and green eyes but it was the lips Ryland remembered. She wore a small smirk, like she was laughing at something no one else had figured out yet, and she was enjoying the fact that no one else had figured it out.
Everyone stood around looking at each other for a second before the sniper said, “what the frack? This area was supposed to be friendly. We were told it was in allied hands.”
“Shut up, Jaurez.” Said the woman Ryland didn't recognise.
“The whole fracking point of this mission is that the rebels don't know we're here. They clearly fracking do or we wouldn't have been blown up.”
“Jaurez, shut up before I shut you up.” The woman said again.
“Try it, pixie.”
'Pixie' flushed with anger, her fists clenched and despite her diminutive size (hence the name pixie, Ryland assumed) she looked pretty terrifying.
“Guys, don't you think we should get out of the street?” Said the one Ryland recognised.
“I told you not to call me pixie.” Said the short one.
“You also told me to shut up, that isn't happening either.” Said Jaurez.
“Guys,” the redheaded woman said again, loudly enough to snap Jaurez and Pixie out of it. “We should get off of the street.” She said, enunciating every word as if speaking to a drunk. The squad looked at each other, like no one was really sure if they should do what they were being told. Ryland wondered why for a second, then it hit him, they were all privates. Their Lt died in the crash.
Great, I'm stuck behind enemy lines with a bunch of soldiers who couldn't figure their backsides from their elbows without the appropriate chain of command.
“Surely you don't need an order to realise it's not good common sense to stand about meters from cover.” Ryland said.
“Who the frack asked you, flyboy?” Said Jaurez.
“I could order you.” Said Ryland.
“You're not in my chain of command.”
“Fine, get shot if you want.” Said Ryland. He strolled as nonchalantly as he could towards an alley between two hab blocks. Ryland was at the mouth of the alley when he heard the barking reports of las gun fire.
He flattened himself against the wall, brought his carbine up to his shoulder and looked over at the squad. The engineers had taken cover in the wreckage of Kilo two one, Jaurez and his spotter were prone and firing slow, controlled shots down the street. The two women were down one one knee hosing las fire down range, and the man who didn't say a single word during the altercation was on the floor, his hands clamped around his neck. Blood was welling up between his fingers, he was rolling and twitching spasmodically. Ryland stuck his head out and saw ten rebel soldiers firing on the squad.
“Don't fracking hang about, get over here.” Ryland yelled. He dropped to one knee and fired three bursts down at the rebels. He didn't get any hits, but he drove them into cover and bought the squad a moment in which to find cover of their own. The two woman made a dash for his alley, Ryland saw the engineers following. He put another few bursts down the street and shouted for Jaurez and his spotter to get a move on. The spotter started getting up, and fell before he was all the way there, most of his chest was gone thanks to a tight burst of las fire. Jaurez got up and started running for the alley, he almost made it. A las bolt pierced his thigh, he stumbled but tried to keep going, but as he regained his balance another shot took off the back of his skull. He was dead before he hit the floor.

[theemperor9]

Nice work do far, it's sounds quite gritty, I especially like your description of Juarez, he sounded like he was double hard. (until he died). I've started a story line (with no comments) but yours sounds really nice.

The emperor