Memories

Screams, gunfire and unnatural screeches filled the darkness of the chill night. Here, a man's silhouette could be seen, outlined by the flare of his AK-47 assault rifle. Then, his screams of defiance, and the blazing fury of his weapon, were cut off as one. A hulking shadow had thundered from the undergrowth towards him, eyes glowing crimson and wicked fangs gnashing together as it charged towards the shocked soldier. The man tried to swing his rifle to bear on the monster, but it was too late. The bipedal fiend reached him, and with one butt of its head, powered by it's thickly muscled neck, he was thrown to the ground. There was a brief gasp, and then a long, drawn-out scream as the beast's maw descended. Then, there was nothing but the steady drip of blood from the monstrosity's fangs. But around the dead soldier, the battle raged on.

Private Alex Kirov, a soldier in the Ukrainian elite special forces, flung himself to the ground as another of the unnaturally slow bolts of green fire soared overhead. He broke out in a cold sweat as the discharge blew a tree in half, without halting it's steady flight into the dark skies. He was reminded once again that whatever they were fighting this night, it was not of this Earth.

He crawled forwards to the scant cover provided by a scraggly bush, ignoring the dampness that was creeping through his uniform, and the freezing winds that whistled around him. Working up into a kneeling position, he sighted his gaze along his weapons barrel, and scanned the area, searching for… them.

And there one was. A short, lithe figure, grasping some form of weapon that seemed far too large for it's build. The creature's massive eyes reflected the little light that was penetrating the clouds as it turned to look directly at Kirov, who was preparing to squeeze the trigger.

It knows I'm here, he thought, as he watched in rapt fascination.

An instant later, his mind was flooded with blood. His vision clouded over in the gory haze, as something somehow took hold of his mind, and squeezed with all it's might. He dropped his weapon, clutching his hands to his head as the pain flooded every ounce of his being. Through the furious pain, he could still make out the figure of his foe. It remained standing stock still, apparently just watching him. Then, as he fell once more to his stomach, his mind was released, his brain cleared. Looking up, he spotted his commanding officer, Radek, emerging from the gloom, rifle blazing. The pain had left Kirov's mind exactly as the caseless shells had begun to strike the watching unearthly warrior. It must have psychic abilities! He thought, remembering the old flicks and books he had managed to get hold of. It seemed unnatural, like some kind of sadistic fantasy. As he reached out for his discarded rifle, he saw the 'goblin' (such as he had decided it was) thrown to it's backside as a slug struck it dead in the skinny chest. Kirov watched in glee as the thing slumped, and Radek turned away, opening fire once more on some other distant enemy.

And then the elation was wiped away, and replaced with mute dismay. The thing was getting back up! As Kirov watched, unable to act, the goblin raised it's weapon. Slowly… slowly. The seconds seemed like hours as Kirov watched, his sense disorientated by the psychic attack only moments before.

The goblin fired, the area around it flooded with ethereal green light as a bolt of energy burst from the muzzle of it's strange weapon. Radek didn't even notice until the bolt took him in the back, blowing a hole clean through him, cauterising his body with it passage. Spasming wildly, the unfortunate soldier flopped to the ground.

Kirov heard a wild scream of animal anger, distantly acknowledging the fact that it was he who had uttered it. The goblin began to turn as he rose to his feet, swinging the weapon up once more.

This time he didn't hesitate. Rounds were fed into the rifle by the dozen as he unleashed the full automatic fury of his assault rifle on the fiendish thing. It seemed that his attack had more effect; he could dimly see green gore spray outwards as a round thudded into the creature's right arm. It dropped the energy weapon and fell to the ground, as Kirov forced his clawed fist to relax and release the trigger.

His mind was beginning to fade. It all seemed so unreal, like it wasn't really happening. In fact, it couldn't be happening not to him. The sounds of battle faded around him as he let his arms hang limp by his side, withdrawing into his own inner being.

No.

He couldn't allow his mind to fail, not now. His fellow soldiers were relying on him. Radek's memory was owed that much. Kirov had to carry them throuh this night, if only for the grizzled officer's shade.

Shaking his head muzzily, he brought himself back to reality. The screams and chattering of automatic weapons returned, as did the horrifying chittering and the terrible crackle of the energy weapons. Kirov raised his rifle once more, as determination flooded his body, and resolve filled his mind.

Looking down, he realised he had unconsciously walked over to the downed goblin. He was lucky not to have been mown down in the heat of the conflict. He thanked his lucky stars, before his eyes widened in astonishment, as the wounded goblin below him stirred slightly. It was still alive, despite a virtually missing arm and severe blood loss. It's huge eyes glared up at him as he watched, and he sensed the thing's presence creep into his mind once more. It was weaker this time, but as he tensed for the attack, he felt rather than heard a voice begin to speak. To his astonishment, he could understand what the fiend was saying.

Give up now, primitive. The presence murmured softly. The Children of Cydonia shall not be halted by your kind. We have conquered species and worlds that you could not imagine. All resisted; all fell, with pain and suffering. Surrender your world and it's peoples now, and you shall be spared that suffering.

Suffering such as Radek had suffered? Suffering such as Kirov's mind had been subjected to? Perhaps. Kirov didn't wish to allow the rest of his world to suffer in such a manner. But this creature could not be trusted. If it really wanted suffering to stop, why did it come here in it's unearthly contraption, carrying powerful tools of war? And this thing had slain Radek, his superior, and his comrade.

The purpose returned to Kirov's thoughts and he brought the rifle to rest against the fiend's head. He was aware of a mute scream of anger within his mind as he pulled back slowly on the trigger, before rounds chattered from his rifle, blowing the scrawny thing's head apart. He kept firing, pounding round after round into the gory mess of brains and blood that was laid open to him, until finally the goblin was no longer recognisable.

It was only once the rifle clicked quietly as the last round was blasted from the chamber that Kirov stopped. And then, he calmly ejected the empty clip, slammed another in, and strode off into the night. He was going to kill some more of these invading monsters. He had killed one already. They were not invincible. And out there, in the gloom, his comrades must still fight, for he could hear the gunfire from here. The battle had drifted away somewhat, but at least others were still alive. They still had a chance…

* * *

Kirov awoke in a cold sweat. Opening his bleary eyes, he realised that he was safe, laying within the cheap shelter offered by the thick, coarse fabric of the military-issue tents. Which, in turn, lay within the safety of the N.A.A.R.O base camp. Kirov scrambled from his sleeping bag, and out of the tent. He slept in his uniform, so modesty was not an issue. Shuffling over to a fallen log nearby, he sat down and gazed into the night.

The Rostov disaster was long ago… far back in his past now. Three years ago? Almost that, since the vast alien craft had touched down near the small city, and Kirov's special forces unit had been sent to investigate the UFO.

He now recognised the 'goblins' as the malicious sectoids, staple soldier of the alien armies. And the vast, furred beasts that had accompanied them were reapers - bipedal predators that could tear a man apart with a twist of their jaws.

So many men had died that night. There had been eight of them, Kirov included, and two had returned. Two. A seventy-five per cent casualty rate. Whichever way you looked at it, it was a fiasco. A disaster. And the mission wasn't even a success; Kirov and another soldier, Dudintsev, had fled for the helicopter that had just been radioed in, as the wounded Krestinsky covered their backs. They had reached the helicopter and escaped at Krestinsky insistance. Kirov had known the older man was right. The soldiers stomach had been torn open, and he wouldn't have lasted long. At least that way he had died for a purpose, had given his life for a cause.

Kirov sighed deeply, a rattling exhalation of sadness. He would never forget how, following that disaster, and other similar events around the globe, he and Dudintsev had joined the new international organisation, X-Com. Top secret, of course - they had been selected for experience and skill. They had both fought for X-Com's cause, defending the Earth against the alien invaders. Both had survived until X-Com command decided it was time to stop the aliens at their source. Cydonia, on Mars, Kirov remembered. He had been wounded at the time, laid down in the medical bay with first-degree burns, but Dudintsev had proudly stepped aboard the Avenger, waving cheerfully.

That was the last they had ever seen of them. The team had gone to Mars, reached the red planet, and descended below the planet's surface.

The next thing the people of Earth knew was that shining, impossibly floating aircraft were descending from the skies, tearing entire cities apart, and disgorging ferocious alien shock troops who tore the unprepared armed forces of the world apart. It was obvious, thought Kirov, that the elite of X-Com had failed, lost somewhere in the caverns beneath Mars' surface.

But N.A.A.R.O… perhaps this unit might have a chance. He looked around the camoflaged camp, sharp eyes picking out a sentry sheltering several hundred metres away, gazing in the opposite direction to Kirov. Yes, perhaps N.A.A.R.O had a chance. But what was there to win? Earth was in ruins, it's continents laid to waste. Little remained of the human race, save this ragged band of soldiers, X-Com veterans and civilians.

But there was hope.

Yes, thought Kirov, as dawn burst over the distant horizon, flooding the country with a dim light. There was hope.

Shaun Green, 1999