The alien command center pulsed like a living heart. Energy conduits glowed blue across the walls, veins of light running into the central nexus — a towering spire of organic-metal, pulsating as it fed power to the entire outpost.
Dozens of Typonian officers moved about, mandibles clicking as they worked consoles of flesh and alloy. None of them saw the two erased Marines standing among them.
Hunter crouched by the nexus, his visor flaring red. His voice came low through the private link, steady as ever.
"We don't need to run circles around this place. Cut the head, the body dies."
Hudson tilted his head. "Explain."
Hunter extended a wrist module. The AI HUD projected across his visor, overlaying alien code in streams of blue fire.
"This nexus doesn't just power the command chamber. It routes everything. Barracks. Infirmaries. Sentry towers. Orbital uplinks. All tied here. We kill it, the whole base goes blind, deaf, and dead. And Command gets a direct line into their system while it collapses."
Hudson's voice was calm, approving.
"Silent dagger straight through the heart."
Hunter smirked beneath his visor.
⸻
The Hack Begins
Hunter pressed a black, palm-sized UNE infiltration node against the nexus wall. The device sank in like liquid metal, its surface glowing crimson.
Alien glyphs erupted across the node, fighting against the intrusion. Sparks of energy licked across the nexus as if it were alive, trying to reject the foreign system.
Hunter's AI whispered inside his helmet:
"Encryption layers engaged. Adapting. Parsing alien neural patterns... estimated override in 67 seconds."
The Typonian consoles flickered. Officers paused, mandibles twitching, but they saw nothing. To them, the systems were "glitching."
Hudson stood watch, erased, rifle steady. His voice was low and calm.
"Sixty-seven seconds in hell. We've done worse."
⸻
The Overload
Hunter's visor flickered as the hack pierced deeper. His voice came sharp:
"Firewall's a living system. They're fighting back. AI, burn them out."
The node pulsed crimson. The nexus screamed — not mechanically, but biologically, a horrific wail of metal and flesh as the hack ripped through. Alien officers clutched their heads, mandibles spasming.
Hunter's AI intoned coldly:
"Override complete. Command access granted. Energy reroute engaged."
⸻
The Kill Switch
Hunter tapped his wrist.
The entire base shuddered. Lights flickered once... then went out.
Barracks plunged into darkness. Infirmary tanks shut down, alien bodies collapsing in silence. Sentry towers powered off, their glowing weapons dead.
The fortress roared with alien screams — confusion, panic.
But inside the command chamber, no one saw the two Marines standing in the dark. No one heard their rifles chamber. No one felt the storm coming.
Hudson's voice cut through the silence, cold as the blizzard outside:
"Base is blind. Time to clean house."
-
The command nexus pulsed faint blue in the dark, its heartbeat faltering after the hack.
Hunter's voice whispered over the private link:
"They'll be here any second."
As if on cue, the reinforced doors at the far end of the chamber slammed open. Dozens of Typonian guards poured in, weapons glowing, mandibles clattering in panic.
But Hudson and Hunter were already gone.
They had activated Silent Shadow Tactic Type 2, bodies erased completely. Armor, weapons, heat signatures — nothing remained.
They stood pressed against the wall, invisible, as the aliens rushed past them into the command chamber, screeching and scanning, trying to make sense of the sudden blackout.
Hunter's voice was calm, almost amused.
"They're checking shadows that don't exist."
⸻
The Exit
The two ghosts slipped into the corridor, unseen, unheard. They moved through pitch-black halls, past scrambling alien squads, past medics screaming over dead systems. The fortress was chaos, but none of it touched them.
By the time the Typonians realized something catastrophic had happened, the Marines were already gone — striding back into the white roar of the blizzard outside.
⸻
The Detonator
Snow whipped against their visors as they crested a ridge, the massive fortress burning faint blue in the distance.
Hunter stopped, crouching low, rifle resting against his knee.
"We're far enough. Do it."
Hudson pulled a matte-black detonator from his vest. A single red light blinked on its surface, steady and patient. He raised it, thumb resting over the switch.
He looked once at Hunter, who gave a silent nod.
Then he pressed it.
⸻
The Fire in the Snow
For half a heartbeat, nothing.
Then — the mountain shook.
The command nexus detonated with a colossal roar, the charges Hudson had planted erupting in unison. The entire fortress shuddered, energy tanks ripping open, blue fire tearing through conduits.
A blinding explosion swallowed the command center. Towers crumbled inward, collapsing into the glacier. A wave of heat and light ripped through the storm, snow blasting outward in a shockwave.
The Typonian base — their forward operating heart on Xeros IV — was gone.
⸻
The Ghosts Fade
Hunter's visor reflected the burning wreckage.
"Silent in. Silent out."
Hudson clicked the detonator off, his voice flat, steady as stone.
"Mission complete."
The storm swallowed them again as they vanished into the blizzard, leaving only ruin behind.
-
Hudson and Hunter dropped their Silent Shadow Tactic Type 2. Their forms shimmered back into reality — armor, rifles, and visors burning bright through the blizzard.
They strode down the last corridor toward the outer gates when a squad of Typonian guards rounded the corner, weapons leveled, mandibles clattering in fury.
The lead alien screeched, his words translated faintly through Hunter's HUD:
"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS SLOWLY... OR BE PUT DOWN!"
Hudson and Hunter exchanged a quick glance.
Hunter let his rifle sag, lowering it slowly to the snow. Hudson mirrored the motion. Their hands hovered, deliberate, calm.
For half a heartbeat, the aliens relaxed.
Then — in perfect unison — the Marines snapped their rifles up and opened fire.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
The AR-90Ks spat silent fury no longer. Suppressors off, muzzles flared in the dark. Every round tore through alien chitin, spraying ichor across the walls. The Typonian squad didn't even scream — they were dead before they hit the ground.
⸻
The Alarm
The gunfire echoed through the fortress like thunder. Lights flashed red. Sirens blared, alien alarms shrieking across the complex.
Hunter reloaded, his tone clipped but calm.
"That did it. Whole hive knows we're here."
Hudson checked the detonator once more, securing it. His voice was flat, iron.
"Doesn't matter. Extraction point's east ridge. We move."
⸻
The Incoming Horde
Boots pounded on the steel floors. Alien shrieks echoed through the halls. The storm outside roared louder as though the planet itself wanted blood.
Through their visors, dozens of red dots lit up the map — enemy signatures, closing fast.
Hunter chambered another round, his visor glowing crimson.
"Looks like we get to make some noise after all."
Hudson nodded once, raising his rifle.
"Then let's make it count."
The two UNE Elites stormed forward through the fortress, gunfire lighting the corridors, every shot a thunderclap in the dark. The ghosts had become fire, and the storm was about to burn.
-
The command center alarms screamed, echoing through the entire mountain fortress. Red lights stuttered, bathing the halls in warning glow. The blizzard outside raged, but inside, the storm of gunfire was worse.
Hudson and Hunter sprinted through the corridors, rifles spitting fire, every round cracking through alien chitin.
⸻
The Gauntlet
Enemies poured in from both sides of the hallways — Typonians shrieking, weapons glowing blue as plasma bolts screamed past. The air filled with sizzling energy, the walls erupting with sparks and molten scars.
Hunter shouted over the comm, ducking behind a collapsed support beam.
"Left flank! I'll pin them down — MOVE!"
Hudson slid across the floor, coming up behind cover, his AR-90K roaring. He cut through the left squad, each burst precise and merciless.
Hunter popped out of cover, his shots tearing apart the right flank, ichor splattering across the walls.
⸻
The Push Forward
They didn't stop. Couldn't. Every hallway turned into another choke point, every door a kill zone. Typonians dropped from ceilings, burst through walls, ambushed from the dark.
The Marines fired back while sprinting, while sliding into cover, while rolling across debris.
• Hudson tossed a frag down a stairwell — BOOM! Three aliens shredded.
• Hunter vaulted a barricade, dropping two with precise headshots before hitting the ground running.
• Plasma seared past Hudson's visor, close enough to scorch it. He didn't flinch. "Keep moving!"
⸻
Hellfire Everywhere
By the time they hit the eastern corridors, it felt like the entire base had collapsed onto them.
Enemies fired from balconies above, from corridors ahead, from ambushes behind. Grenades hissed past, detonating with blue concussive waves that shook the walls.
Hunter dove into cover beside Hudson, panting hard but grinning.
"Remind you of Kandros-7?"
Hudson reloaded smoothly, voice flat.
"No. Kandros had fewer bodies."
They both popped out of cover and lit up the hallway, shredding through another squad before breaking into a sprint.
⸻
The Outside Light
At last — the blast doors ahead loomed, the faint glow of the blizzard beyond spilling through the cracks.
Hudson tapped his comm.
"This is Stealth Team. We're coming in hot. Ready the bird."
A pilot's voice crackled back, calm under pressure:
"Copy, Stealth. VTOL inbound. You've got five minutes before I'm overhead."
Hunter smirked under his visor. "Plenty of time."
Hudson chambered another round, eyes locked on the doors. "Plenty of targets too."
⸻
The alarms wailed louder. The fortress howled with alien fury.
And the UNE's ghosts ran into hellfire, rifles blazing, cutting their way to freedom.
-
Gunfire thundered through the corridors. Plasma bolts tore the air. Hudson and Hunter sprinted toward the blast doors, rifles roaring, bodies dropping around them.
Then — a voice cut through the chaos, crisp and steady in their helmets.
"Stealth Team, this is Monarch. We have you on uplink. Your signal's live."
Hunter ducked behind cover as plasma rounds scorched the wall beside him. He fired back, his grin tight.
"Good to hear your voice, Monarch. Base is hot as hell."
Monarch tone never wavered.
"Copy that. Your charges detonated clean — satellite confirms the nexus is offline. The entire outpost is blind and isolated. But Typonian reinforcements are mobilizing. You need to reach extraction now."
Hudson vaulted over debris, rifle spitting fire as two more aliens fell. His voice was low, controlled, calm as ever.
"Acknowledged. East ridge. ETA four minutes."
Monarch:
"Understood. VTOL inbound on vector nine-seven. You'll have cover fire for fifteen seconds max. Do not miss the window."
⸻
Pushing Through
The blast doors loomed larger, alarms screeching. Typonians swarmed from every angle, mandibles clattering, weapons glowing like molten fire.
Hunter slammed into cover beside Hudson, their rifles nearly glowing from heat.
"Fifteen seconds of cover fire?" Hunter muttered.
Hudson reloaded, his voice steady. "That's all we need."
Monarch's voice came again, sharp with authority.
"Marines, you are not here to win. You are here to survive. Punch through, make the ridge, and don't look back. Repeat: don't look back."
⸻
The Breakout
Hunter popped up, firing controlled bursts that shredded the front line. Hudson rolled forward, tossed a frag — BOOM! — clearing the choke point.
The blast doors groaned, creaking open to the storm outside. White light poured in — the blizzard howling like a promise of freedom.
Monarch's voice echoed in their ears one last time:
"Go, Stealth Team. The storm is yours. Remember 5 minutes. Make it home."
And with that, Hudson and Hunter stormed through the doors — into the blizzard, into the swarm, toward the ridge where salvation waited.
——————————————
To be continued...