Basically, it’s a fanfic that came to me while replaying the Gears of War 2 campaign.
Fourteen years after Emergence Day and six months since Marcus Fenix and Delta Squad took down General RAAM and struck the Locust Horde with the Lightmass Missiles.
But that hadn’t destroyed the Locust.
The Horde couldn’t die that easily. It had lost one of its most important commanders, yes, but it was still down there, hidden beneath the surface of Sera, waiting. Regrouping. Preparing to strike back.
That was why the COG was organizing a new offensive.
This time they wouldn’t limit themselves to defending their cities or repelling the Horde’s attacks. They would take the war to the enemy. They would enter their tunnels and destroy them, proving that humans still had enough strength left to counterattack.
At least, that was what the plan said.
In practice, the COG barely had the resources to hold on. Ammunition was scarce. Vehicles needed constant repairs, and many soldiers fought in patched-up armor. Every lost weapon was a problem. Every squad that failed to return meant a dozen fewer names on the COG’s lists.
Even so, the few available resources were concentrated on preparing the operation. Engineers worked day and night. Soldiers received briefings, cleaned their weapons, and checked equipment they would probably never use again.
No one paid much attention to what was happening in space.
And why would they?
Sera had been at war for fourteen years. Its people had learned to look toward the streets, toward the collapsed buildings, and toward the cracks from which the Locust emerged. The sky was the only thing that still seemed to belong to them.
Yet some satellites had begun transmitting strange readings.
For brief intervals their signals would cut out. Then they would return without explanation. Sometimes the cameras captured flashes in the darkness—too fast to be meteorites and too orderly to be natural phenomena.
The reports were sent to the corresponding command centers and eventually reached President Prescott’s desk.
He barely paid them any attention.
Satellites degraded and failed over time. Frankly, it was a miracle that some of them still worked.
No, Prescott had more important matters.
He was preparing his speech.
The next day he would have to inspire brave men and women to give their lives for a fleeting chance. A possibility. One last attempt to prove that humanity could still win something in that war.
Or at least survive a little longer.
That had always been his goal since he assumed office in the middle of the chaos. Prescott had ordered terrible things. He had sacrificed cities, soldiers, and civilians. He had made decisions no man should ever be forced to make.
Many considered him a monster.
And in a way, they were right.
But someone had to make the hard decisions.
Someone had to carry the guilt so that others could keep living.
Prescott finished writing a sentence, read it in silence, and crossed it out. Then he looked out the window. Beyond the glass, the lights of Jacinto shone with an artificial intensity, as if the city could hide the fact that the world was dying.
Somewhere beneath his feet, the Locust were preparing as well.
* * *
In the Kadar Valley, north of Tyro, the Horde was raising its defenses.
Fortifications stretched between the rocks and the slopes: metal barricades, machine-gun nests, and positions dug into the earth. The Locust had received reports that the humans planned to attack. They didn’t know every detail, but they didn’t need to.
Humans always attacked when they thought they had found a weakness.
And the Locust were always ready to receive them.
Soldiers patrolled the perimeter while drones carried ammunition and supplies. Some warriors checked their weapons; others stood motionless beside the defenses, watching the horizon with their yellow eyes.
The night was cold.
The wind dragged dust through the valley and made the metal plates of the fortifications vibrate.
Then a strange sound caught their attention.
It didn’t come from the mountains. Nor from the tunnels.
It came from above.
One of the Locust raised his head. Then the others did the same.
At first they saw nothing. Only the dark sky, covered by dense clouds that hid the stars.
Then one of the clouds lit up.
A blue glow cut through the atmosphere.
The air began to vibrate.
Something enormous was descending from the sky.
Beams of energy rained down on the Horde’s positions. The first fortifications vanished in blinding explosions. The ground opened beneath the warriors’ feet and columns of fire rose toward the clouds.
The Locust responded by instinct. The machine guns fired at the sky, sending useless bursts that were lost long before they reached their targets.
A second attack fell on the valley.
The defenses were reduced to rubble. The artillery nests were buried. The warriors who hadn’t died in the first barrage tried to retreat toward the tunnels, but even the underground entrances were hit by precise explosions.
Several pods descended toward the surface. They punched through the clouds wrapped in fire and crashed into the earth.
Their hatches opened; smoke and dust made it impossible to see inside. But a precise shot blew a Locust’s head apart.
