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"The Last Good Fight-Prologue" -> (4 skipped) -> "The Last Good Fight-Chapter 5" -> "The Last Good Fight-Chapter 6"

The Last Good Fight-Chapter 7  by WILLIAM-BETA-AI

Riley had chosen O’Brien to lead the group. They skimmed above the tree tops. It was early morning, just a couple hours after a group of marines had made visual on a group of the lizard things.

The sun was slowly rising. Pink clouds floated in the sky, sticking out on an indigo sky. The curtain of mist covered the ground below. O’Brien stood on the end ramp of the lead drop ship. He stood opposite the gunner in the back.

“You ready to kick some **** sir?”

“You betcha private.”

O’Brien continued to look at the ground below. Then to the three drop ships behind them. Then something caught his eye.

“Private, see those dots right there, keep your MG on em’.”

The private directed the weapon. Dozens of lighting fast blobs raced towards the last drop ship. The armor on the back of the ship melted off.

****, get that gun on em’!”

O’Brien radioed in to Riley.

“We’ve made contact, they have air…”

One of the craft swept down onto their drop ship, the private fired the MG. He hit it but the rounds just bounced off.

“Gotta take down their shields!”

Another one swooped in and peppered the privates MG with plasma.


He fired at it until the shields went down. It flew off, but not before he could damage it.

“How many are there?”

“Thirty at least, we could use some air support!”

One of them flew right behind them. It charged one of its guns. O’Brien quickly grabbed a shotgun from the wall of the drop ship. The private took down its shields, but it fired.

The round shot to the back and curved, hitting one of the marines.

“Oh god, he’s hit!”

O’Brien shot at the thing. His first round peppered what he believed to be the cockpit. He then fired again, this time hitting a wing. He must have hit something flammable because the wing caught on fire.

The craft rolled out of his view. But the private still had a bead on it. A bright white flash came into his view along with small pieces of burned metal.

“Not so tough with their shields down!”

The things had retreated, somehow they had put enough fire on them.


“Holy crap!”

O’Brien didn’t turn quickly enough. But he had seen enough.

A massive blue beam flew across the sky and hit the drop ship next to them right in the cockpit.

It burst into flames and plummeted to the ground.

“Evasive maneuvers, try and get us below its line of sight!” The pilot yelled to the copilot.

But it was too late. The beam hit their right wing, making it catch on fire.

“Damnit, hold on!”

The wing flew off, at that second the drop ship did an immediate 180 degree turn. It jerked O’Brien to the side. Then the drop ship dipped down. He lost his grip and fell straight back to the cockpit. But the drop ship hit the ground before he could land.


O’Brien woke up a few seconds later. He smelt burnt flesh. The private sat near the end of it, he was leaned against a pile of broken metal. Some sparks flashed and briefly lit up the bay.

There was a gaping hole in the middle of the left side of the drop ship. It had turned onto its right side when it crashed.

Three burned bodies sat opposite the hole, still smoldering. O’Brien closed his eyes for a second. Then he heard a whirring noise. The ground shook like a quake. Then again, and again.

“What the hell?”

He slowly moved to the cockpit. He stopped at the edge of the smoldering hole, waited for two aliens to pass. They muttered something un-intelligible to each other. One sniffed the air, looked around then continued to walk. O’Brien exhaled.

He finally made it to the cockpit. The private woke up. O’Brien waved him up. He slowly crawled through the mangled metal. Once he was with him, O’Brien got up and crouched. He heard a whimpering. He turned to the private. He shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked over to the pilot. A tree branch had impaled him through the gut.

“Jesus, private, help him!”

The private, private Zowski came up. He pulled a dressing out of the first aid kit.

O’Brien searched for a minute then found what he was looking for. The radio. He found the mouth piece on the floor. He put it on and turned on the radio.

“Fire base bravo do you read?”

He glanced over to the pilot. Zowski was prepping to pull the branch out. He found a bottle of foam filler in the first aid kit, and was cleaning his hands with an antiseptic towel.


“This is fire base bravo we read you.”

“Uh we have visual on some enemy weapons platform…”

“Is this task group two?”

“Uh yes.”

****, what happened?”

“That’s why I need to feed you the video.”

“Ok, go ahead.”

O’Brien reached over to the pilots head. Zowski was still next to him, waiting for O’Brien. He took off the video recorder in his helmet. He put it in a little slot next to the radio. Then the thing came back out. He laid it in the pilots lap.

“Ok we have video feed. Thank you.”


It was too late, they had cut the line.


“Uh sir…help?”

“Oh…uh ok.”

He came over.

“Here put your hand on the branch.”

O’Brien did so.

****, this is gonna hurt…”

The private jammed a Syrette into the pilot.


O’Brien pulled. It was one of the most awfulest things he had ever done. The pilot squirmed for a split second then cried out in agony.

“OH god your ripping…my ****…chest!”

“Jesus stop!”

O’Brien took his hands off. He looked at the pilot. Spit and blood slowly dribbled down the side of his mouth and pooled onto his blouse. His chest was torn open from the branch and gore splattered the window. Then they heard the footsteps.


The private and O’Brien hid behind the seat. O’Brien peeked around.

“Oh god…please don’t-“

The window shattered and one of the aliens roared. They heard the spikes fire and penetrate deep into the pilot’s chest. Then they heard the last painful gurgle of the now lifeless body.

They slowly snuck around. It was gone now. Three long spikes stuck out of the pilot’s chest.

****, well we need a way out of here.”

The private looked at him.

“Are you crazy? Those things are all over the place.”

O’Brien scooted to the back of the squad bay. He busted into the built in weapons locker.

“Were gonna need weapons lad. What do you prefer?”

O’Brien pulled out two assault rifles and a machine gun out. He tossed the private one of them.

“And were gonna need a lot of ammo, one can each.”

By now the things had passed. O’Brien and the private snuck quietly out of the drop ship. He stood up. He had an assault rifle and shotgun slung across his back along with a bandolier of grenades. He clutched the MG in his hands, cradling the cool steel.

The private carried an assault rifle with a grenade launcher. Not quite the firepower O’Brien was toting around.

“Alright lad, let’s get moving before peak daylight.”

The sun was hovering high above them and beat down. Sweat streamed down O’Brien’s face.

They had long since dropped much of the excessive load of arms and ammunition. They heard muffled voices in a clearing before them.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Kill em’ follow my lead.”

O’Brien grabbed two grenades. He crawled up to the edge.

“How many of ya are there?”

The aliens jumped in surprise. They slowly walked to the edge.

“Ya ladies can split these with what left o ya ****!”

O’Brien threw the grenades. They exploded above the aliens heads. One of them spun around. The grenades ripped off its arm then blew its leg off at the shin. Pink gore splattered as he fell. The shields of another one died.

O’Brien broke cover, the private followed. He quickly made short work of the shield less one. Then they both concentrated fire on the big one.

“Holy ****!”

It stood almost eight feet tall, and was covered in metallic armor. They both emptied their magazines into it. But O’Brien’s jammed. He threw it to the ground. The private was out of ammo.

The private charged the alien with his rifle.

“Lad no!”

He sidestepped at the right moment and swung the butt of his rifle around and hit the thing in the small of it’s back. But it spun around and grabbed him. It threw him at a tree. He hit is with a smack. Then it turned its attention to O’Brien.

He pulled his knife out.

“Ya want a fight?”

The alien did similarly. It pulled out a small rod and pressed a button on the side. It turned into an energy knife. It charged O’Brien.

“God, help me!”

He met the thing head on. Though comparatively smaller, he was an Irishman. He threw all of his weight behind his stab. But the alien caught him by surprise. It’s knife melted through his knife. Then he brought it back up and cut through his armor into his forearm.

“I’m **** dead!”

He dropped to his knees clenching his wound, then.

“Hey you big smelly ****!”

A rock flew and hit the thing in the head. It spun around. Fueled by adrenaline O’Brien got back up and kicked the alien down to the dirt.

“ya filthy son of a bitch!”

It rolled around.

The private picked up his rifle and smashed it into its face again and again. After he had beaten it down O’Brien grabbed its arm. He lifted it up to its feet.

“You’re not gonna enjoy this…were about to figure out how to kill you.”

O’Brien ripped off its chest piece. He picked up his broken knife.

“You really aren’t going to enjoy this.”

He jabbed the knife into is stomach cavity, instantly carving through muscle and sinew. The thing yelped and howled. He brought the knife back out. He stabbed it again, and again, and again, and again. After stabbing it thirty-three times, he let go of it. The mangled carcass fell onto a steamy pile of its own gore.

O’Brien was arms deep in pink alien blood. He wiped his knife off on his trousers.

“Not very fun…but I suppose you could kill em’ like that?”



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  'The Last Good Fight-Chapter 7' statistics: (click to read)
Date created: June 9, 2011
Date published: June 9, 2011
Comments: 0
Tags: ai, aliens, computer, doomed, earth, fi, fiction, irishmen, marines, mystery, obrien, program, riley, sci, science, story, will, william
Word Count: 6509
Times Read: 404
Story Length: 2
Children Rank: 2.9/5.0 (1 votes)