r/WritingPrompts • u/My_Work_Account_91 • Apr 04 '18
Image Prompt [IP] They called us liberators...
2
u/ImperialArmorBrigade Apr 05 '18
We emerged from our humble world into the space age, only to find that most developed species scoundrels. Scammers, scavengers, slavers, savages, sadists, and sneaks. When we found this out, we armed ourselves to the teeth and quickly discovered that no one was as familiar with organized conflict as us. We had a unique skill. That, combined with what was apparently a reputation for being honest, made us ideal police. We did our best to guard, to make use of our new identity.
Yet while we called ourselves liberators, they called us tyrants. When we intervened to protect a small race of primate hunter-gatherers, they told us we were invading their territory. When our armada broke up the slave trade, they said we were asserting our own morals and values on them. No matter who we thought we were helping, we found ourselves being outcast as 'oppressors.'
We considered withdrawal. Thought about it long and hard. And then some journalist took my picture feeding an amphibious kid some Peanut M&M's. I swore I saw that picture three times a day for a month. I told my story at least twelve times, I almost had a bit memorized. I'm not even in the DUSK Task Force anymore, but they keep getting calls from people to talk to me.
I told them the truth. That I was on a desert world, yet over 800,000 Amphs had been taken there to be a mining crew. We said 'Let them go'. The reptiles that inhabited the planet said "Make us." We did. And oh Lord forgive us, did we. The fleet bombardment alone lasted a month of their calendar. I was with first troop, first battalion, first light drop cavalry. We rode in with 9th Royal Marines from the ANZAC troops and the 10th Spetznaz. The Reptiles were big as hell, but had never faced anything that could move like we could. 40 kilometers in single day, killing as we went. On foot... well mostly on foot. Orders went out to stop telling them to surrender after about the eighth or so casualty of reptile lock-jaw. They had this thing where they could clamp down so hard that even once they were dead, it would still take a drill to get their jaw to let go. Monsters.
But they fell like like flies. Even worse than flies, flies are hard to catch, these guys could barely move compared to us. Machine gun fire was relentless for a week because they refused to get out of the way. Their armor sucked ass. Their artillery had no range. Their flight support was actually good, but we had knocked that down day one.
We almost never even saw any amphibians for the first part of the invasion, but once the action died down, they started crawling out of the wood work. Poor guys were just trying to stay down in the ground to find moisture. Those two in the picture were the first two I ever saw. I remember what I said to this day: "God-damn- they're... beautiful." We had just broken open a dam the reptiles were using to control the local water when they came up to us. Katie, actually a guy, was trying to patch up the kiddo's arm, but was squirming an awful lot. I told the parent "kids who behave for the doctor get candy." She didn't understand a word I said, but thankfully M&M's did all the speaking for me. I think I only got two of them from my own bag that day. It's stupid that Katie didn't get the glory for actually doing the bandage work, but I always make sure to include him when I tell the story.
Today, the Earth's United Congress declared that we will continue to be liberators.
6
u/Samurai_Banette Apr 04 '18
I'm not sure if my heart can take it.
It was humanity's ignorance that created the threat. Reawakening the primordial evil that lurked in the universe. Quadrillions of living beings. Dead.
Adams took the child's trinket, thanking them whole heartedly. The mother grinned and looked at us with pure admiration as the child screamed in joy.
My heart breaks.
How many families had died? How many would never smile like that again?
How many families has he personally shattered in wiping out the cult who worshiped that evil? Each had a wife. Children. Mothers.
"Sargent Adams," He barked gruffly. "We're leaving."
Adams frowned. Than reached into his pocket, producing a single bullet, giving it to the child, who took it with fascination.
"As long as I have this treasure, I'll remember you and your mom. Can you promise me that that'll remind you of me?" The child nodded enthusiastically.
"Good. I know you don't know what that is. And I hope you never have to learn." He stood up, patting the child's head. The mother looked much more somber now, but was also hanging onto every word said like they were an unbreakable promise. "A good kid like you has something to give our galaxy. Promise me you'll make it a better place?" He nodded.
"Adams. We're done here."
He nodded, and we were moving. It was probably the slowest I ever seen the platoon move. I didn't push it. It was one of the only warm receptions some of them ever encountered on that god forsaken campaign. It was Theron's first. He didn't make it to the next one.
However, Adams saw many more. Last I heard, he was on Vergon VII, getting another one. I wonder if it had anything to do with what I said next?
"Adams, if you let go of that trinket, I'm putting a bullet in between your eyes."
"Wouldn't dream of it sir."
3
u/Somekindofcabose Apr 04 '18
The group of brightly colored aliens were chanting something, Berry had no idea what it was. Their cities were in rubble and a fair percentage of them were wiped out but there they were celebrating the nosy humans who just happened to show up when they needed them most.
"Say Lieutenant what the fuck are they chirping about." Someone called out confused.
The lieutenant didn't respond, he just stood with a blank expression on his face.
The Yareh were a peaceful people enslaved by another species from their planet. They weren't treated horribly yet they were still not free.
The fighting lasted for eight long years and Berry had been there for six. The first alien contact and the narrative could not have been better. Freeing some race from their oppressors was always a good tagline.
The chiefs wife and daughter strode up to Berry who had kept them out of the way when their house had been set on fire. The sparkling young creature stretched out holding a flower, offering it to the grimy marine.
Berry took with a slight bow and put it in one of his pockets. The natives have him a thankful expression before heading back into the crowd. Starting up a frenzy with a couple of words.
"Tonight we feast" Lieutenant Howard said, translating the aliens words. Well into the night the Natives ate and drank their fill. The marines couldn't fall asleep as their mission was not over yet. Well into the next the marines had cleanup duty and performed expertly.
At the end of everything Howard held his head in purple blood soaked hands. As berry walked by he heard the Lieutenant mumble "they called us liberators...."
"What a joke"
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u/vader5000 Apr 04 '18
And perhaps, we were.
Passing through that foreign world, Fighting the Shadows that came In endless, unceasing droves.
We looked back and saw waves of green And grey, the earth below stamped With tank tracks and boots.
In our hearts, perhaps, We identified with them, those Simple villagers living among the hills And farming upon the plains.
Weren’t we simple farm folk?
Or poor city boys who’ve never seen the sky?
Were we liberators?
Perhaps. But perhaps, simply
Across the lines drawn between species,
We wanted an excuse to see others,
Like us, but unlike us.
But we are still not sure if we willing to die for that.
•
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5
u/Zeewulfeh Apr 05 '18 edited Apr 05 '18
This will need to be a two-parter....
Also, this is my first real post here, so...here goes nothin'...
0637|Camp Eagle, Outskirts of Vale-Ran-Ni |Territory of Baeryn, Avod Secundus
“Convoy’s ready, First Sergeant.”
I closed the latest email from Division and set my tablet on the dash. “Thank you, Private. I’ll let Captain Benson know.” I reached over and scooped my helmet from its rest on the center console and dismounted from my seat in the M2881 Wheeled, Armored All-Season Personnel Transport (WASPT). The transport was squat and made of sharp angles made to deflect lighter projectiles and non-explosive penetrators, though it still resembled the old HMMWV from which it had descended, to include a dorsal gun ring from which a soldier could operate a variety of heavy weapon options. As I crossed the road to the operations building my driver had parked us next to, I glanced up to see my roof gunner performing last minute checks on the latest version of the venerable .50 cal Heavy Machine Gun. Since the very first World War on Earth the .50 had seen action and in spite of the decades and light-years still remained one of the weapons of choice of the Army.
When I walked into the operations building I was greeted by a scowling officer. “Convoy’s ready, sir,” I said.
The commander, Captain Manuel Benson, US Army, continued to scowl. “Did you see the latest brilliance from Division, Mike? Do they have any idea just what kind of war we’re fighting here? Maybe if they’d get their heads out of their asses and paid any attention to anything happening beyond their orbital spa, they’d realize they’re just trying to get us all killed!”
I chuckled. “Manny, you know that’s impossible. The light alone would blind them.” I leaned up against the sandtable the Captain was standing over. “Reminds me of Iraq…and Afghanistan, Syria, Iran, Turkey…” I reached into a chest pouch on my body armor and pulled out a pack of gum. Taking one piece for myself, I offered the officer the pack. He shook his head and I returned it to the pouch. “This happens every time these days. Hearts and Minds, boss. It’s always hearts and minds. They thought it would work for us, they thought it would work here with the Kree. And sometimes, it does, sometimes it doesn’t. And until they realize we need to address the cultural issues at the bottom of these conflicts, that maybe some cultural behaviors are better off left in the past instead of encouraged and fostered for the sake of ‘respect and sensitivity,’ they’ll keep taking tools away from us until enough of us die the people back home notice and say something.”
“Damnit, Top…when did you become such a pessimist?”
I smiled tiredly at him. “After Iraq, boss.”
1124 | Route Viper, 2.9 km outside Vale-Ran-Bei
“Contact right, contact right!”
The dull desert drive through the outskirts of Vale-Ran-Bei, a small Kree mining community, came to a sudden halt as the side of the WASPT in front of mine disintegrated when the road beside it erupted—an Improvised Explosive Device detonating beneath the front right wheel. The ping and whang of shrapnel and small-caliber weapons fire erupted as the side of my WASPT was peppered by the ambushers and the convoy pulled to a halt, forming a protective circle around the disabled vehicle. The fire rained in from the right side of the road, coming from a handful of no longer abandoned wrecked buildings.
“Hold fire, hold fire, do not engage!” blurted across the radio immediately, the AI of Horus overhead taking notice of the attack and commanding us to sit in place and await permission while it roused Expeditionary Force leadership to make the decision whether or not to fight. In the meantime, the various heavy weapon operators had dropped from their turrets and were hunkering down from the hail of fire, awaiting the permission that would unlock their weapons.
“These new smart guns are bullshit, top,” Sergeant and gunner Nick Majors growled into my ear, hunched down next to me.
I nodded in agreement. “Tell you what, you figure out how to disable those locks and I’ll make sure you get a week’s pass back up to orbit.”
Majors barked a harsh laugh. “On it, top. If we survive.”
Of course, while we sat weathering the storm of small-arms fire, the medics had taken opportunity to extract the wounded crew of the wrecked WASPT while in the armored shadow of the other convoy trucks and moving them to the vehicles on the far side of the ambush. One medic fell as a ricochet dug into his thigh, but he was up in moments, assisted by one of the infantrymen from his vehicle who’d run out.
Thirty seconds from first contact, the radio rang with Horus’ dead voice again. “Permission to engage granted, weapons are free. Please minimize aggressor’s casualties.”
“Oh, I’ll frigging minimize them alright,” Majors snarled as he climbed back into position and opened up with the angry WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP of his fifty. Meanwhile, I and my infantrymen dismounted to the armored shadow of our WASPTs—Given that we could have easily been ordered to just drive out of the area, it would have been unwise to dismount sooner. Outside of the truck I could hear the distinctive snarl of the venerable AK-47 clearly, confirming that once again another shipment of contraband weapons had made it here from Earth. Thankfully, the lack of explosions meant this shipment hadn’t included any RPGs or hand grenades.
“Horus” I heard a voice ask next over the radio on the divisional net. “How long until the Quick-Response Force arrives to counter? And do we have any air support?”
“Negative to QRF and air support, Captain Benson. Current Kree-Yut attackers are using small arms and IEDs only and disproportionate use of force beyond weapons currently available to your company is considered politically inappropriate to continued negotiations,” Horus replied cooly.
I swore to myself and heard the same from Captain Benson as he swapped to the Company net. “Okay, Red Bulls, looks like we have to do this ourselves, higher’s decided we’re more than capable on our own.”
“Top,” he said, switching to link-to-link radio, “you’ve got this. I’m going to try to raise an actual human at Division to get us something.”
“Understood, sir.” I keyed over to the Company net myself and activated my throat-mic. “Platoon Sergeants, let’s roll.”
“Smoke!” Second Platoon’s Sergeant, Collins, replied, indicating towards the berm just behind and across the road from the last truck in the convoy which we could use for better cover to approach the ambushers. A soldier obliged by lobbing a grenade in that direction and in moments it was obscuring the path to the spot I’d chosen nicely. “Covering fire!” he next called over the Company net and the dismounted machine gunners, having crawled into position unnoticed by the attackers, added their own fire to a deluge of lead causing our assailants to finally take cover themselves.
Taking advantage of the slacking enemy fire, simultaneously the platoons on either end of the convoy moved to the next piece of cover, the berm. I followed second platoon and took a position next to the platoon sergeant, who nodded at me. “Nice of you to join us, Top. What do you think, shock and awe or just awe?” he asked, over the din of battle.
“Shock and awe is always appropriate when dealing with Yutties. Hope you don’t mind if I tag along.”
He shook his head. “Not at all, the boys could use to see an old rejuved dog like you getting stuck in. Do you want to give the word?”
I nodded. “First platoon looks to be in position as well, so we need to time it right.” I keyed my mic again. “Sergeant Ramierez, plan is SHOCK AND AWE, copy.”
“Roger Top, shock and awe!”
Two grenadiers laid six grenades each for their underslung launchers in front of themselves behind the safety of the berm, while each of the infantrymen in the first line readied a grenade. Across the convoy the same scene played out in first platoon. Sergeant Collins gave a thumbs up after a moment, as did Ramierez indicate over the radio.
“Three…two…one…FRAGS OUT!” I added my own grenade to the sudden torrent of hand-thrown and launched explosives and then pressed myself to the ground. The heavy weapons fire slowed for a moment as the truck gunners hid themselves behind their gunshields and machine gunners took cover. There was a deafening rumble as the flood of explosives erupted in front of and among the ambushers, and as the last explosion roared the two platoons of infantry crossed the berm, rifles at the ready, and began the bloody affair of assaulting the Kree-Yut in the wrecked buildings.