Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

Foothold.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Story

This story is No. 8 in the series "Faith in the Army.". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Faith in the Army. The US military now has a shoot first, dissect later attitude to monsters and aliens; unfortunately other agencies didn’t feel the same way. There were still those who thought they could make deals with Zog from Planet ‘X’.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Predator(Recent Donor)DaveTurnerFR151754,8081421727,73720 May 1211 Jun 12Yes

Chapter Two.

2.

Authors Note.
First a big SORRY for posting this as ‘complete’ its not there’s more death and destruction to come and maybe a couple of laughs.
Second; sixteen reviews for one chapter, that’s more than I’ve got for some complete stories, thank-you.
D.

David E. Twiggs Junior High.

Even as she ran forward, pistol in hand, Faith knew that she wouldn’t find anything. Dodging between the wreckage of the air crash she tried to remember what she’d actually seen and not what she thought she’d seen. Okay, she told herself as she slowed down and started to move more cautiously, she’d seen a missile fired at a helicopter, right? So, if it was a missile why wasn’t there a smoke trail leading from the launch point? Also, how come she’d not actually seen a missile? She’d seen missiles fired before and it didn’t matter how fast they went, her super-vision always gave her at least an impression of a shape. As far as Faith could remember she’d only seen the flare of the missile’s motor and even that hadn’t looked right.

Moving sideways around a large piece of wreckage with her pistol pointed out in front of her, Faith swept the ground before her with her eyes. There was nothing to indicate that this had been the launch point, yet this was where her memories were telling her the missile had been fired from, so; why wasn’t there a discarded launch tube lying on the ground? Why wasn’t there even a wisp of smoke in the air from the missile’s rocket motor? This was too weird; no way could she be that far off in her estimation of where the missile had been fired from. Turning at the sound of masonry moving behind her, Faith turned quickly and found herself pointing her weapon at Corporal Brenda Mitchell’s head.

“Jeez!” Faith gasped as she lowered her pistol, “I nearly blew ya freaking head off!”

“Never happen, Slay,” Brenda advanced carefully across the rubble, her own pistol held in both hands and pointing at the sky, “what yuh got?”

“Nothin’,” Faith shook her head in confusion, “I’m sure this is where they fired from…you?”

“Same,” Brenda relaxed as she came to stand next to Faith, “looks like they got clean away.”

“No-way,” Faith looked at her friend in astonishment, “how?”

“People too busy dodging pieces of burning chopper I ‘spect,” Brenda informed Faith with a slight grin.

“Oh, yeah,” Faith nodded her head slowly, “forgot about that,” she admitted before asking, “Any of the crew get out?”

“Nah,” Brenda shook her head, “all dead, killed a fireman on the ground too.”

“Crap,” Faith cursed as she scanned the debris around her, like so many other things today, something just wasn’t right, “Okay, let’s work outwards from here and…oooh!”

“What’s up, Slay?” Brenda was at Faith’s side in an instant.

“Oh, crap that hurts!” Faith was bent over as the cramps took control of her stomach.

“Hey,” Brenda frowned, “it’s not your time of the month is it?”

“Different type of cramps,” Faith informed her as she slowly stood up again.

“Yuh mean…” Brenda’s voice faded away as she stepped away from her friend and brought her weapon up into firing position.

“Yeah,” Faith had almost fully recovered now, “ambush cramps,” her own weapon was up and ready now, “let’s get outta here, okay?”

“I’m with yuh,” Brenda nodded as she slowly started to retrace her steps.

“HOLD IT!” Faith called as she went into a crouch and sighted her pistol on something in the rubble.

“What’s wrong?” Brenda pointed her pistol in the same direction as Faith’s but couldn’t see anything.

“I thought…” Faith frowned; she’d thought she’d seen something move, a simmer or something as it moved between two piles of wreckage, but now it was gone as had her cramps. “It’s nothin’,” Faith relaxed and lowered her weapon, “must be seein’ things.”

“Getting’ old more like,” Brenda laughed as she replaced her pistol in its holster; if Faith said there was nothing there you could take it to the bank.

“Sergeant Lehane!” Lt Anderson’s voice came from behind Faith and Brenda.

“Ma’am?” Faith turned to look at her officer; the young woman was making her own way through the debris her weapon still out and ready, “Find anything?”

“No ma’am,” Faith replied disappointedly, “musta got the wrong location or something.”

“No?” Anderson looked around, “But this looks about right, I was looking right at that chunk of…of…” Anderson gestured to a large piece of incomprehensible machinery, “whatever that is. This is the spot,” Anderson looked around, “but-but you must be right, there’s nothing here…”

Not knowing what to make of the incident, Lt Anderson decided to play it by the book.

“Okay, Sergeant,” Anderson began, “collect up the guys and form a cordon around the site.”

“How far out, ma’am?” Faith wanted to know.

“One hundred metres from this point,” Anderson saw the uncertain look on Faith’s face, “I know it’ll be thin but do the best you can, I’ll get more troops in.” Anderson paused for a moment before continuing, “only let emergency crews and cops inside the cordon, okay?”

“On it ma’am!” Faith turned away and started to jog off to collect the rest of the platoon.

“Corporal Mitchell,” Anderson turned to Brenda, “you’re with me.”

“Sure thing, ma’am,” Brenda hurried off after her platoon leader; as she walked she couldn’t help feeling that someone was drawing a bead on a point right between her shoulder blades.

0=0=0=0

It was now over an hour since the missile (or what ever it was) had been fired. About forty-five minutes ago Captain Horne and another platoon of ‘A’ company had turned up to reinforce Lt Anderson’s platoon. Third Platoon had helped thicken up the cordon and now there were enough personnel around to free up a few to do roving patrols around the crash site which was what Faith and Brenda were doing right at that moment.

The crash site was almost deserted now with just a few search teams sweeping the area in case they’d missed any casualties and even they’d be leaving soon. So far the rescue teams had accounted for all the pupils and staff from the school and casualties had been relatively light. Two teachers had been killed along with fifteen of their charges; the wounded amounted to about thirty staff and pupils plus a multitude of much less serious injuries. It could all have been so much worse if the airplane, or whatever it was, had crashed into the classrooms and not the gym.

Orders had come down from on high; rumour had it, straight from the Pentagon. That the site was to be secured for the military and no civilian agencies were to be allowed on site. This all told Faith that she’d been right to suspect that what had crashed here wasn’t a civilian aircraft and was something out of the ordinary.

“Hey, lookie here,” Brenda pointed up into the sky as two army choppers approached the site.

Looking up Faith saw them too; she’d been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice their approach.

“Wonder who they are?” Faith asked as the two women watched the Blackhawks go into a hover before landing, their rotors blowing loose debris all over the crash site.

“Guess we’ll soon find out,” Brenda replied as the doors in the side of the closest Blackhawk opened and combat troops started to jump from the aircraft and deploy around it.

“Now that proves it,” Faith said over the noise of the choppers, “there is definitely some weird shit going down!”

“You better believe it,” Brenda pointed to where a figure got slowly down from the second chopper.

Even at about a hundred metres there was no hiding the fact that the figure was an officer. You could tell by the way he moved and how people moved around him.

“Crap,” Faith breathed quietly, she’d noticed the officer’s limp as he walked slowly towards the crash site proper followed by a shorter slighter figure, obviously a woman.

“Oh come off it!” Brenda pleaded to the universe, “I do not deserve this.”

“Freaking, Major Finn, god damn it!” Faith shook her head, this was oh so bad; weird things tended to happen around Major Finn and when it did, Faith and Brenda usually ended up sharing in the weirdness.

“When we get back to base,” Brenda confided in her friend, “I’m gonna ask if there’s any quiet posting open for a girl up in Alaska.”

“Right there with ya, B,” Faith agreed.

0=0=0=0

Climbing down carefully from the Blackhawk, Riley Finn paused for a moment to watch his men deploy around the two helicopters. Satisfied that everything was as it should be he raised the direction of his gaze to include the crash site and the surrounding area. If what had crashed here was what his bosses thought it was it was vitally important to secure the area and recover all the wreckage. It was also vitally important to ensure that all the crew, if they’d still been aboard, where dead. If they weren’t dead, Major Riley Finn had orders to make them dead asap! The army at least had learnt from the ‘Initiative Fiasco’ as it was referred to. They now had a shoot to kill policy on all hostile visitors who weren’t descended from apes.

Ignoring the two MP’s who were standing about fifty metres away to his left, Riley moved cautiously across the uneven ground and studied the wreckage for a moment. He didn’t need any fancy scanners or detectors to tell him this was what they’d suspected, even feared, it was. However, he turned to face the woman who was following a couple of paces behind him.

“Willow,” Riley couldn’t help but smile at the witch; she looked lost in the set of slightly too big fatigues she’d been given to wear, “is it them?”

“Hold on,” pushing a wayward lock of hair back up under the army cap she was wearing, Willow closed her eyes and concentrated; after a moment or two she breathed out heavily, opened her eyes and looked up into Riley’s face, “Yep, as near as I can tell its one of their’s also…” Willow closed her eyes again and frowned before speaking again, “…there’s one, possibly two slayers close by. I can’t get a good fix on them because that thing,” she gestured at the wreck, “is totally messing with my magic.”

“Local girls?” Riley asked; he didn’t bother looking, if the slayers didn’t want to be seen they wouldn’t be.

“Maybe,” I’ll call Buffy later,” Willow relaxed as she went over to stand next to Riley.

“Yeah,” Riley nodded his head slowly, “you better ask her to get them to back off until we know exactly what we’re facing here.”

“Yes sir!” Willow grinned up at Riley as she gave him a mock salute.

“Hell,” Riley sighed heavily as he chose to ignore Willow’s mocking of his chosen profession, “there’s some Air Force people out in Colorado Springs that are supposed to be experts on ET’s. I’ll ask General Brittles to call them in; we might need help on this one.”

“You think?” Willow gave the alien ship a worried look.

Having read the reports of the two known landings made by these alien creatures Willow knew it’d take more firepower than the slayers possessed to take them down. However, since the US armed forces had got over the idea that they could somehow use HST’s and HALF’s to further their own agendas, she and the rest of the Reformed Watchers Council were quite happy to work with them. Unfortunately although the military had a healthy shoot first, dissect later attitude, that didn’t mean that all US government agencies felt the same way. There were still some people in dark backrooms that thought they could make deals with the Devil or Lord Zog from Planet ‘X’. Noticing that Riley had moved to get closer to the crashed space ship, Willow hurried to catch up with him; sometimes it amazed her how fast he could move on one and a half legs.

“So what-cha-gonna do?” Willow asked as she stumbled after Riley.

“First,” Riley glanced over his shoulder at Willow, “get more troops down here to properly secure the area.”

“And then…” Willow prompted.

“Get the engineers in to move that thing,” Riley stopped in front of a long, thick, pod-like object, there was no clue to say what it was. “And while we’re doing that we hunt the crew down and kill them.”

“You want help?” Willow asked.

“I’d appreciate it if you could help out,” Riley turned to face Willow, “your expertise would be very useful.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Again Willow threw up mock another salute.

“That’s navy,” Riley replied with a tired smile.

“Same thing isn’t it?” Willow frowned truly puzzled by why Riley looked as if he was going to murder her on the spot!

0=0=0=0

“So, what yuh thinks goin’ on here?” B asked as she and Faith watched Major Finn and the short red-head talking.

“What ever it is I’m betting we won’t be here for much longer,” Faith replied.

“How you figure?” B wanted to know.

“This is all too weird for us chickens,” Faith informed her buddy, “Do you ever get the feeling we made a mistake rescuing Major Finn that time?”

“Now you mention it,” B glanced at her friend, “yeup.”

“Too late now,” Faith admitted, “we can’t go back in time and stop ourselves from rescuing him.”

“Who says?” B replied in all seriousness, “with all the weirdness that’s followed us around since Iraq, a little time-travel ain’t no problem.”

“Yeah,” Faith sighed and started to turn away from where the Major and the woman stood, “you’re probably right. Come on,” Faith started to walk back towards were the command Hummer was parked, “better let Captain Horne and the L-t know what we’ve seen and what we thinks gonna happen.”

0=0=0=0

Jeffersonville Docks.

Standing in the shadow of a warehouse, Captain A P Hill stuck a small mirror onto the end of a slim metal rod and held it out so he could see around the corner of the building; he watched his target for a moment. Smiling to himself he slowly pulled the mirror back into cover; if everything went to plan the Columbians were in for a nasty surprise. It had taken months of careful police work to discover the Columbian’s distribution centre in the Jeffersonville’s docks area. It had then taken even more weeks of careful watching and waiting to discover when the next shipment of drugs would be delivered to the warehouse just along the service road from his present location. A day too early and there’d be nothing there and he’d have wasted his time raiding an empty building. A day too late and the drugs would have been distributed to other centres up and down the east coast and its hinterland. So far everything had gone his way, a shipment had arrived late yesterday and was being stored in the warehouse. As far as he could tell there’d been no leaks and the Columbians hadn’t been tipped off.

“Captain?” Sergeant Blake whispered attracting his Captain’s attention; Hill nodded for the Sergeant to go on. “All teams report ready to go, sir,” Blake lifted the microphone of his radio nearer to his lips in anticipation of his commander’s order.

Glancing down at his watch, Captain Hill noted that it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. The Columbians would never be expecting him at this time of day.

“Tell ‘em to go,” Hill nodded to his sergeant.

“Go! All teams go!” Sergeant Blake said clearly into his radio before taking a firm grip on his assault rifle.

Waiting for his teams to get into their ‘breaching’ positions, Captain Hill pulled down his goggles over his eyes, checked his rifle and stepped out into the open. Running along beside the wall of the warehouse, Hill was aware of his command team running along behind him. He could hear the soft thudding of their boots as they hit the concrete roadway, the rattle of their equipment as it bounced in time to their footsteps. Up ahead he could see one of his breaching teams place a charge on the door next to the big loading bay doors at the front of the building. So far they’d heard nothing from the Columbians; he knew there were at least half a dozen men inside. Obviously he’d been right, they’d not expected to be raided in the middle of the afternoon.

Taking up position behind the breaching team, Hill waited for a second before nodding at the team leader. The man, anonymous in his black combat gear, nodded to his boss before pressing the trigger on the detonator he held in his hand. There was a sharp *CRACK!* as the charge went off. A cloud of light grey smoke rose as the heavy metal door swung open. At a muffled ‘Go!’ from the team leader the breaching team entered the building. For a moment there was complete silence, but only for a moment. The breaching team hadn’t been inside the building for more than five seconds before they were hit by a hurricane of automatic fire.

There in front of his shocked eyes, Captain Hill saw one of his men stumble back out through the door and collapse onto the road. Letting his training take over Hill moved forward to take up position at the edge of the doorway. Firing into the warehouse he covered one of his men as he took up position on the opposite side of the door. Pausing to reload, Hill and his man both fired into the building so that the injured officer could be pulled to safety.

Satisfied that at least one of his injured men was out of danger, Hill gave up his position to another of his men. Listening to the reports coming in over his radio, he realised that the Colombians must have spotted them moving up on the warehouse. They’d got each entrance covered with at least one man with an automatic weapon and each of his breaching teams were taking casualties. The raid had suddenly taken on the aspects of a battle. However, Hill knew he could win a battle; his men had the weapons, equipment and training to win this firefight. The Columbians were playing into his hands by standing and fighting.

Then he got his first piece of good news, one of his breaching teams had gained entry into the building. Knowing to reinforce success, Hill ordered his reserve teams to reinforce the men inside the warehouse, while the others still outside were to increase their volume of fire to keep the Columbians occupied. As the firing reached a crescendo, Hill got the word that he now had half-a-dozen men inside the warehouse and the Columbians were falling back. Leading his command team through the door, Hill saw his downed officers lying on the ground. He didn’t need to tell anyone to get them to safety that was done automatically by the men who followed him into the building.

“Captain!” Blake called from behind Hill.

“What?” Hill took cover behind a stack of crates as he tried to work out where the Columbians had gone.

“Charlie Team report that the Columbians have retreated upstairs into those offices,” Blake pointed upwards.

“Make sure all the exits are covered,” Hill ordered, “then we fire gas and follow it in.”

“Roger that,” Blake started to pass on the Captain’s instructions.

Before he’d finished issuing his orders the air was split by the sound of men’s screams and wild firing coming from the offices above. After ascertaining that it wasn’t his men firing and none of the fire was directed at the police, Hill peered over the top of the crates in front of him hoping to see what was happening.

“What the hell…?” He asked himself and the universe in general.

0=0=0=0
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking