The Great War - Part One
#1 of The Great War
The following is a story from my imagination that involves technologies and races, and maybe a few ideas, that I did not invent all thrown into a pot with some I did come up with. My intention is to tell a story, and some parts of it are graphic. If you're underage, do not read this story.
This is my first story here, so if you have constructive criticism or some praise, send it to me.
Part 1 - First Contact
The day was surprisingly good for First Lieutenant Mitchel. He was doing what he had always dreamed of doing, even if it was the Earth's furnace he was doing it in. Then again, nothing can quite match the feel of riding in the turret of a Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle, or IFV. The patrol was to go along the border to what was Iraq, and make sure whatever hit Iraq doesn't come into Kuwait. Even from here, he could see the smoke from the fires in the cities, fires which had sprung up on their own and quickly ingulfed the entire area, as if someone had taken a torch to it. Below, the eight men of the infantry squad joked to each other about how the Iraqis couldn't keep their own country from going to hell, even after they went and got rid of their home-made dictator for them. For the most part, Mitchel ignored them, instead focusing on the feel of the air rushing by.
His joy was short lived, however, as soon enough, his radio started to squack in his ear. "Heads up people." His troop commander says, from a track three up in line. "Command reports unknown leakers heading straight for us. Drop off the ground pounders and set up." Sending off a quick confirmation, Mitchel gave the necessary orders, and soon, the IFV turned towards the approaching enemy and stopped, dropping its back door and letting its infantry out. Mitchel could just barely see it, a dot on the horizon, barely visible, which was strange, as it was moving too slow to be a fighter, and the Iraqis lost all their choppers. He slips down into the turret and brings up his optics, zooming in. "Hostile spotted." He sends over the net. "Identity unknown, looks to be coming right at us." He says. He looks closely. It almost looks like...His thought is cut off immediately as a beam of pure blue energy comes from the figure, cutting thru the commander's vehicle and exploding it with a deafening boom.
"RETURN FIRE!" He calls out, also as fast, and together with the infantry's small arms, the bradleys open fire, sending a hail of bullets and traced 20mm projectiles at the target. The target moves in as fast as it had come in slow before, flying directly overhead, bathing the ground in flame and cooking two troopers, but doing little damage to the Bradleys it had used its fire on. "What the hell is that?!" A soldier cries out from the infantry platoon. "It looked like a dragon!" Another calls out as a beam cuts in, slicing thru the IFV the dragon had tried to cook before. Satisfied at seeing the IFV explode, the dragon comes around slowly, savoring how the humans and their toys were helpless against him.
Frustrated, Mitchel flips a switch and fires off a TOW missle, keeping it tracked on the dragon as it lazily came up and about. He gambled, correctly, that the dragon hadn't encountered anything like the wire guided missile when it burned thru Iraq, and was happy to see the missile trace in and detonate, tearing thru the wing membranes of the dragon but doing little else to harm it. The dragon glides down to the ground and growls at the IFVs and the remaining infantry, bullets bouncing off its scales, the 20mm cannons doing some damage, but about as much throwing a small rock at a man. "Shit..." Mitchel says. "That only pissed it off." An infantryman comes up next to the Bradley, aiming a Javelin anti tank missile system at the dragon. The dragon hisses, getting ready to bathe the infantry in flames, but the soldier is faster, or perhaps just a bit lucky. He triggers the missile, sending it soaring at the creature. The dragon dodges to the side, the missile hitting and detonating on its tail, blowing off the last three feet of it. With a roar, the dragon charges, 20mm rounds digging into it but not slowing it down, until another missile hits it directly on the chest, the shaped charge blowing clear into the creatures ribs and thru them, incinerating its heart and lung, burning all the rest nearby. The dragon skids the rest of the way, coming to rest a mere two feet in front of Mitchel's vehicle. Everyone is frozen, all weapons aimed at the dragon as they try to figure out if it's dead or not.
Five minutes later Mitchel is on the battallion net, relaying to the commander what had happened. "What are your casualties?" The commander asks, hardly able to believe that there are dragons, but the deaths, and the body, will prove it all. "We have lost two tracks and two men from the infantry platoon, along with five major burns and a shrapnel wounds." The reply is instant. "Roger that, stay in position, we've got medivac coming in along with a M1 platoon. We'll have a tow sent for the carcass as well. Out."
Fifty miles to the northeast, in what remains of Basrah, the small battle did not go unnoticed. The group of dragons there sits up, wondering what happened to their friend who left to hunt for food. When he went off alone, none of them thought anything of it. They were Celestial dragons, after all. Gifted with the ability to direct energy at foes, like the best of ships in the space between stars, as well as the ability to breath fire onto the humans. Why would they worry? Especially with how these humans fought. Still, they felt his death, and that was enough to get them on their feet. Ten strong, they take flight for the trip southwest towards where Rhakvan died, a blue dragon in the lead, the feathery scales of her wings glistening in the light, her very image teasing the males, but for all their courage, none of them had enough of it to speak to her of a bond.
Forty minutes later, they were walking to just behind a dune crest. When they had sensed the thoughts of the humans they had gone to ground, and now, were looking at the body of one of their wing, being examined by humans. It looked like a fight had happened, and the minds of these humans felt different than those of the humans they had wiped from this patch of desert. Their technology looked more advanced as well. One of their flying machines, a helicopter she knew, was lifting off. She did not know it carried internal scans of the dragon who had fallen in combat, and many samples of his scales, so she ignores it, and focuses on the humans on the ground. "Those damned humans, they killed him!" She growls. So far not one of their kin had fallen to a human in battle. The bloodlust dragons are known all around the galaxy for soon takes hold, and all ten of them rush to the skies, roaring their challenge to the insolent humans.
As soon as they heard the roar, everyone was in action. The recovery tank's crew, who had already secured the lines on the dragon, wrenched it up and started off at a steady twenty miles per hour, the dragon resting on the back of the tank. They didn't get far, as the dragons sent one of their fastest after the body of their fallen comrade.
The Abrams and Bradley crews all rush to their vehicles and the infantry jump into their holes, taking aim, and gulping as ten dragons lift into the air. "Fuck." The single word spoken in twenty lips as the dragons come towards them. An infantryman is the first to fire, launching a stinger at the dragons, hoping to bring one down to the ground where the tanks and IFVs could engage effectively. However, this time, there is no surprise, and the lead dragon fires off a beam, blasting thru the missile and straight thru the infantryman, throwing up a cloud of dirt where the man was hiding at. Three more stingers fly up from the infantry, and two from the Bradleys. Only one hits a target, and the returning shots decimate the infantry and cut one bradley clean in half. Mitchel swears at the losses, even as the tanks fire at the oncoming threats, hoping to score a hit, and the tank commanders open up with .50 caliber fire, it being about as affective as a mosquito bite would be to hurting a human. Mitchel grabs his radio. "Foxtrot one, this is Yankee six-six. We are under attack by more dragons. I count ten. We need close air support." A response comes back. "Air support three-zero seconds out, button up."
Mitchel shakes his head. "If we live that long." He mutters. "Yankee four two, engage them with missiles and 203 fire. Bullets have no effect. All mechanized Yankee elements, use your missiles, drop them from the sky so the tanks can hit them." With a chorus of rogers coming back, he settles his sights on a red dragon and pulls the trigger, sending a missile flying towards it, then immediately fires his 20mm cannon to try to distract the beast.
Saphyra could say she was actually amazed at the difference in the combat effectiveness of these humans as compared to those other humans. They were throwing less at them than the others, but unlike the others, it seemed more coordinated, and their weapons she knew were more lethal, just from seeing the explosion from one of the missiles on one of her wing. It detonated just in front of her, and the pieces it thru off shredded into her wings, making her need to land. Now she watched another missile streak up, and before the dragon who it was following could hit it, some of those annoying large shells came up to distract him just enough that the missile came in and hit, tearing his right wing up with the shrapnel thrown out. She watched in horror as the dragon tumbled to the dirt, only to be immediately hit by a strange kind of shot from the tanks. It didn't explode when it hit Roven, which he could have survived. Instead, it burrowed straight into him and came out the other side, along with a bit of his flesh and innards, leaving a hole in him. Three more hit and she knew he would not be getting up again. She growled and whirled, coming in and firing her energy attack at the tanks, killing three, as another dragon bathed all the infantry with fire as he skimmed by. They didn't notice the human attack planes until they fired, the zipper like sound snatching her attention away from a Bradley. The A-10s had come in low, and now their anti tank gatling guns spat a line of tracers towards two dragons. The explosive shells dotted along their backs, but didn't do much else but flick off scales...and piss off the dragons, one of them spinning over and reaching up to yank the wing off one of those planes, sending it tumbling to the ground.
Mitchel didn't know what to do. All around him, things had gone to hell. He had watched as the infantry was burned out and slaughtered, and now the other dragons were butchering the tanks, one even landing in front of one and ripping the turret off in a powerful slash. "Retreat!" he calls out over the radio and to his crew, but it's too late. The last thing he saw was a shadow, and then a blue light.
Back in Kuwait City, a three star general stares at a silent radio, the radio officer looking at him in disbelief. Fifty men had died in the span of two hours. Fifty highly trained men, with some of the most advanced military hardware in the world, with only two confirmed kills to offset the losses. "Gentlemen, what you just heard is classified." The general says. "How far out is Zulu 5?" He asks, meaning the Chinook that had lifted off with scans of the creature, as well as pictures and a few scale and tissue samples. "Fifteen minutes, sir." The general nods quickly. "I'm gonna make a phone call." With that, he turns and heads to his office.