The Welcome Wagon (D2)

There is nothing worse than uncertainty. With Lazarus fallen, and two alien crash sites. The future of humanity hangs on our capacity to understand that which came from another world.

Previously on the Fall Years: After escaping the doomed Dauntless, the Kaskari Vadir Kor crash lands on Earth. The Welcome Wagon is deployed to investigate his ship that crashed close by. They find his transport empty except for him. He’s also alive and their best clue at figuring out just what happened here…

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The large armoured troop carrier, SKPR-46, a Skipper, shook while it travelled across the arid desert on its approach to Crash Site Bravo. Squad Leader and Master Sergeant Ryan Miller sat near the front of the vehicle. He took stock of his weary-eyed squad. The last thing any of them expected was to be hurtling across the Great Plains to an alien wreck.

They were the Welcome Wagon and had been stationed at the Walker Air Force Base in preparation for deployments elsewhere, but that mission changed when word reached them of an alien ship being sighted over the Western states. They had their suspicions about what lay ahead, but never until now had they been so in the dark regarding a mission. The truth of what they were fighting over was nothing new to them, but those past missions had involved exploring long-abandoned alien relics. These aliens were potentially alive and hostile. All this talk of an alien invasion has got us rattled. Not to mention the growing threat of the Deterrent Mortalis. They’ve never been this coordinated before. What changed? And why now?

“What do you think we’ll find?” asked his First Sergeant, Caleb Jackson. His robotic right eye seemed to focus on the leader. The black man’s domineering build and broad shoulders had him hunched over in the back of the cramped vehicle. The prototype X0 Exborg frame and cyber system he had installed had helped him make quite a name for himself on the battlefield. It had become as familiar to him as any part of his remaining natural body. Where most who had undergone the procedure had fallen into the well of psychosis and let it fracture their minds, he somehow managed to maintain an upbeat and stubborn personality despite his heavily modified appearance.

“I’m not sure. Our focus now is the smaller ship that broke away from the big one. It crashed and landed not far from it.”

Technical Sergeant Matthew Gregory, a small, stout and bushy-haired man compared to the others, looked deep in contemplation before finally speaking up. “Do you think we have a fight on our hands?”

“You never know with these things,” Technician Fifth Grade John Munroe said, adjusting his glasses. “Kind of a shame that first contact has to go down this way.”

“Shit happens,” Miller said. Those words were more than an apt description of the last thirty years. He continued, “We’ll be there soon once we’re on the ground. I want you all locked and ready. Anything comes out. Be they alien or Mortan, put them down. Don’t even ask for permission.”

“What if it’s a human?” asked Private David Webber.

That’s a good question, kid. “We ensure they’re still breathing and get them out of there.”

The other technician, Sam Mason, smirked at the answer given. “That’s providing they aren’t infected, right, Leader?”

“Of course, no point in any more speculation until we’re on the ground and we see this thing for ourselves.”

“What if the alien surrenders?”

They all looked at David and muttered among themselves before Mason glanced back at the leader. “What if they surrender?”

“We take them alive. You still need to keep your fingers on the trigger and be ready for anything. We know from reports that Lazarus has gone to hell in a handbasket. There’s no telling what awaits us and what’s coming next,” said Miller.

The whole squad agreed with that. The reports since the city went dark were spotty at best. No one truly knew what was happening on the Moon and the lunar city, Lazarus. The current consensus was a complete city-wide loss to a strain of Mortalis only ever seen in Europe and Asia. The aliens had arrived at the worst possible time. This newer Mortalis variant was a manmade bioweapon developed by the Soviet Imperium. It had taken mere hours for the city to go dark, and now, with aliens in the mix, Miller could only hope that things wouldn’t get any worse. Yeah. Miller thought, grinding his teeth and checking over his L-12 rifle one last time. It's a real shame this is how first contact has to be.

---

The Welcome Wagon’s task force broke away from the main convoy and began travelling over the rougher terrain. Overhead reconnaissance from airborne radar and Birds-Eye drones had helped give them a rough idea of the scale and shape of the smaller, sleeker alien craft. Once they had pulled up close to it, those assigned to assist the task force began rapidly unloading everything. The men of the Welcome Wagon still took a moment to appreciate the sheer size of the downed vessel. This wasn’t just a crashed fighter. Its size alone implied it could hold a small platoon’s worth of men. And more so, the damage to its exterior looked minimal. There was barely a scratch on its surface. Despite the hard impact, the oval-shaped, shiny, silver-looking ship still looked mostly intact. The semi-circular wings on either side had large defensive turrets installed, but they had since been rendered mangled and inoperable. As the task force took position around the craft, the bottom section of the ship finally became visible. It had a larger inward curvature near where a ramp would be deployed. The wreck was fascinating, but the vision on the horizon was even more awe-inducing. The remains of the larger craft and its scattering of debris stood out against the setting orange sun. The wreck smouldered as it sat in a trench of its own making. In both cases, neither team would know what to expect from their respective wrecks. They had no clue if there were all dead survivors or all Mortans. Or something worse.

The Welcome Wagon were no stranger to the abnormal. In only a few years, the world they knew it had changed irrevocably. And now we’re the ones trying to play catchup, Miller thought, taking in the sight of both wrecks together.

In a short time, a few dozen military-grade tents had been erected around the crash site. Inside the central command tent, the squad of six destined to enter the craft had gathered alongside other personnel who were coordinating the operation as a whole. The preliminary report immediately following the impact of both this small craft and the much larger one some miles away was on the table.

“Judging by aerial overwatch, nothing has escaped this craft. However, our attempts to scan for life inside have proven unable to penetrate the hull itself. In other words, we don’t know what awaits us in there,” said Miller.

Gregory whistled before answering. “Judging by that landing, it would be unlikely anyone survived. An impact like that would kill most inside, I’d wager.”

The Master Sergeant stared intently at the report and furrowed his brow before putting the bulky-looking tablet on the table. “Well, we have no real way of knowing until we get in there.” He faced the remaining members. “I need you all at your best, you’re about to make first contact with life from another world. So put on a friendly face, and for Christ’s sake, let’s try to de-escalate this mess.”

“I think we’re already past that, sir,” remarked Jackson.

“What if all the aliens are dead, sir?” Asked Munroe after adjusting his glasses.

“Then we prepare the bodies for exfil and have Site 51 scientists handle the autopsy. Any more silly questions?” Miller asked the group.

No one else spoke. “Good,” He said. “Let’s get to work.”

The Welcome Wagon consisted of specialists in their respective fields. Two of them, Technician Fourth Grade Mason and Private Webber, were engineers; if anyone could make sense of the alien technology, it would be them. Technical Sergeant Gregory and Technician Fifth Grade Munroe were the squad medics, and the final two were Master Sergeant Miller and the assistant squad leader, plus Exospecialist First Sergeant Caleb Jackson.

The squad and the accompanying personnel from Site 51 and surrounding air bases also had a nonstandard kit involving psion crystal-powered rifles and pistols similar in design. Caleb had also brought along plasma charges that Miller hoped would melt the weakened exterior and give them easy access to the ship. Once everything had been checked and triple-checked, the squad of six left the tent and headed for the craft. They navigated past the automated sentry turrets facing it.

“Jackson, prepare the charges for a breach. Everyone else, keep your weapons primed on the exit hole. This ship may yet be crawling with Deterrents.”

The squad let out a chorus of yes sirs and took positions so that if anything did leave the ship, it wouldn’t get very far. Jackson removed the small plasma charges from his backpack and approached the ship's port side. He reached out and pressed his hand against the smooth-looking surface.

“We have no time to admire their handiwork, Jackson. Set the charges and get back here for a remote detonation!” Miller ordered, snapping him back to his senses.

He set the charges and hurried back to where they had all gathered at the edge of the semicircle they had created.

The ensuing explosion created a large plume of smoke. A loud clang followed as hot metal collapsed inward, revealing the craft’s interior.

“Great job, Jackson, now give us some light.”

Jackson pressed a button on his exosuit as he approached the gaping hole. The torches attached to his shoulders turned on, illuminating the insides of the craft. Jackson lifted his heavy rifle and moved to enter first. He surveyed his surroundings thoroughly before calling out to the others to enter.

“All clear!”

The squad entered a large seating area. They also switched on their shoulder torches, making it easier for them to see all that was around them. The interior, like the exterior, had a sleek, curved, futuristic silver look to it. It certainly looked otherworldly compared to the more rugged aircraft used by humans.

“What kind of transport deploys without men?” Miller asked, noticing a lack of any bodies.

Mason shrugged. “The kind that was eager to escape, I bet. The cockpit is up ahead. Let’s see who was flying this thing.”

Together, they climbed the steps leading into a large cockpit intended to house a couple of people. It, too, was mostly empty, and the front screen had a protective seal, forcing them to navigate by torchlight alone. The front end of the cockpit had three seats. Two were unoccupied, while the third, positioned in the centre, had a solitary grey-skinned alien passenger. The squad was speechless.

Miller gestured to one of the medics. “Munroe, run a scan, see if it’s still breathing.”

“Understood, sir,” Munroe said, opening the case he had brought with him. First, he performed a bioscan, which projected a patient’s vitals onto a monitor built inside the case. Like most of Bravo’s tech, it was advanced beyond what was currently in active deployment.

The other medic hovered close and chuckled after seeing the initial readings. “Aside from his skin. Internals aren’t too different from us. That’s not really surprising, though,” Munroe said.

“Is it alive, though?” Jackson asked, leaning over the captain’s chair and looking down at the unmoving alien.

Munroe nodded. “Yes, unconscious, likely from impact, but still breathing. So that’s one thing it’s got going for it. I’ll get to work with Gregory here and prepare it for extraction. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Good,” Miller said, spinning to see the engineers trying to make heads or tails of the alien consoles. He approached with Jackson lingering not far behind.

“Webber, Mason. Any luck?”

“Well, we know one thing for sure. These guys are way way ahead of us,” Mason said.

“It’s on the level of Site 51. This is not good, sir. Especially if more of them are on their way,” Webber added.

“Do you think these people built Site 51?”

Both engineers looked at each other and knew neither could definitively answer that question. The question hung in the air before Miller straightened up at their lack of a definitive answer. “Then, we need to be prepared. Is any part of this ship operable?”

“Perhaps. It’s just more a matter of finding the right…” Before Webber could finish his sentence, the console lit up, and a slight holographic form appeared in much the same shape as the male alien behind the Master Sergeant. Its sudden appearance put the six of them on edge. It spoke rapidly in an alien language before it entered a long silence.

“What do you think it is?” asked Miller.

“Not sure. Could it be one of them trying to contact survivors? Would help if we understood what it was saying,” Webber said.

The alien hologram spoke again, looking from one man to the next before finally shutting off.

“Well, that was underwhelming,” Miller said.

“It could be something more than someone trying to contact our new friend here,” Webber said, looking at the console.

“What do you mean?” asked Miller.

“You think this is an AI?” Mason asked, looking at Webber.

The man nodded briskly. " Look at where it was projected from. Right beneath it is a slot. If I can figure out how to eject it, we can bring it with us.”

“It could go a long way to understanding what we’re up against.”

Miller agreed. “You two continue making sense of how this ship works. In the meantime, we extract the alien. Site 51 will have plenty of questions for it, I bet.”

All six sang “Yes, sir” and set to work. Miller glanced back at the alien.

Let’s hope we can bridge the language gap. I dread to think what those at the Alpha site have in store for them. And what if this was just a preliminary force? Is a much bigger armada on its way? Looking at the highly advanced technology around him. A sinking feeling gripped Captain Miller.

Either way, we are hopelessly outmatched.