Archiver Manhunt

Red Dawn

A faint neon red hue illuminates the skies, as early dawn sets in.

Across the distant horizon, a large flock of dark plated rectangular aircraft, rounded at the front and rear, gently dive into the atmosphere, from orbit. Small circular thrusters carry these metallic craft through the red tinted skies.

Arrowhead formations of smaller, compact craft leads these airborne vehicles, flashing their rear tail lights, before beginning to decrease speed.

From inside the cockpit of one of these craft, a dark suited pilot, watches the horizon through the red tinted visor of his flight helmet.

On the sides of his center view a pair of three digit number values begin to decrease as he presses down on his joystick, dipping the craft into the lower atmosphere.

Approaching the colonial mainland, these craft begin to dispense bursts of bright flares from their sides onto the vast calm body of water below.

Sudden streaks of white light pierce the sky, striking through a number of the escorting craft. Subcombing to the penetration of the beam, the affected aircraft burst into a fiery ball.

The surviving leading craft begin to alter their altitude and speed in a seemingly random manner, while the following craft maintain formation.

Nearing the shores of their intended area of operation, the larger craft lower their rear ramps, exposing the occupants within the passenger bay.

Lining both sides of the interior, with twenty dark and red fatigue dressed infantrymen each, these craft begin to decrease their altitude as they close in on their intended landing zone.

An auto-rifleman, sitting closest to the ramp on the right side, casually turns his head facing the now open skies.

Within the cockpit of the transport vehicle, a coarse white furred, goat hybrid resides in a raised seat, above two human pilots at his sides before him.

The dune edged shores of the colonial mainland grows in perceived size, through the red tinted windshield, as the two pilots continue their approach.

Looking down on his computer like panel, he watches the distance value of a set waypoint continue to rapidly decline. Once noticing this value pass below five thousands meters, he pats one of the lower pilots on the shoulder, instructioning in a soft coarse voice, "Red Light, call it."

Adjusting his helmet attached microphone, the pilot speaks into his communications apparatus, "Red Light, one minutes till drop."

Watching the following transport craft consisting of the second arrowhead formation, the auto rifleman hears his jumpmaster call "Red Light" over the radio in a high pitched masculine voice, giving the que for stimulus use.

The light machine gunner pulls a tin pack from his vest. Opening the hand sized container, he retrieves an unfiltered cigarette. Scarlet leaves, compacted into the rolled object, overflow both ends, with a small piece hanging off each side.

Placing the object into his mouth, he secures the cigarette between his softly pressing teeth, while he draws his combat knife from his belt.

Flipping the combat utensil upside down he presses down on a button, igniting a small concentrated flame. Holding the knife to his mouth he lights the end of his cigarette.

Taking in his first breath of the burning herbs, the auto rifleman begins to feel the impact of the mind altering agent.

The auto rifleman feels his conscious pull back from his body, slingshotting back into his fleshy vessel. His senses of the environment heighten, as his perception of the chill of the vacuuming air, whistling sound of the craft tearing through the sky, and rumbling tension of turbulence intensifies.