Downfall.

[RandomWriter]

"This cold war," the Captain of the USS Normandy, as a ship with U.S.S.R markings fired, only to get torn to shreds by the nearby outpost's cannons, "just got a lot hotter."

Sorry, let's take a few steps back.

The USA and U.S.S.R have always been rivals. 'Officially', they're allies, and will gladly come to the aid of the other for a few trivial pieces of technology. 'Unofficially', both sides have been eying each other since the Cold War, and have been studying the other's tech, eying colonial bases governed by the opposing faction, and violating The Shared Technology and Information Act, in numerous ways.

The Iron Bears were founded as a method of gaining Weyland-Yutani's technology, while the U.S.S.R could 'officially' condemn them. Sadly, Weyland-Yutani's main client, and their number one rival, the U.S, was happy to protect against the 'Space Pirates' and mercenary groups. Though the Iron Bears were 'clearly working for dangerous clients', and not related to the U.S.S.R when doing so.

Logically, it'd be a waste of resources to go up against a more advanced country. Emotionally, however. . .

As the Premier of the U.S.S.R finished his first day in office, he looked to the stars, and smiled. Gone were the days of Mikhail Gorbachev, and other Peace-Mongerers, who were woefully inefficient at expanding the U.S.S.R's resources. Now, they were in command.

Ships tested other ships, colonies were 'liberated' from 'terrible conditions', and Weyland-Yutani did nothing but protest.

Then, one plucky U.S.S.R ship made a mistake, and fired on a medical station, believing its purpose to be military.

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Rear Admiral Jerry H. Moeller was not exactly a kind man. He was ruthless, he was bossy, and he did everything that would get him a promotion. At first, he had been glad the U.S.C.M had recognized his talents for tactical planning, little though they were. He had been glad to receive the title, and a small fleet of ships that he felt could take on the galaxy.

Then, they assigned him towards the outer branches of the known territories, with a mocking congratulatory speech. Well, he was sure it was mocking. So, as he sat in the Admiral's chair, Bridge Officers rushing around, he fumed, and fumed, until M.O.T.H.E.R spoke, in her soothing and abnormal tune.
"Please stand by for a message from Fleet Admiral Rince." This could be interesting.

(To be continued.)

[RandomWriter]

As the message began, the Bridge Officers reflexively stood at attention, while the Rear Admiral reclined in his chair, as a grey haired man's face, covered in wrinkles, materialized.

"Greetings, Rear Admiral Moeller. I've sent this communication due to a series of problems with the U.S.S.R. The US is considering going into open war with them, and we need all of the ships in the region mobilized. Order M.O.T.H.E.R to access every ship in the region, and get them to this point." A small icon appeared, on a massive star chart, as the Rear Admiral nodded, thinking to himself. The message, pre-recorded, simply continued. "This area runs across a major trade route for the U.S.S.R, and it's likely that their armada will be stationed on that route. We will meet you in the region. Good day." Then, the message flickered out, as Moeller thought, a grin growing on his face.

Why simply go there and wait, when he could bring about a decisive victory there?

"Well? You heard him. Send orders to all of the ships in the region, NOW." With that, the Bridge Officers were rushing around in a panic, and typing.

Several minutes later, one officer tentatively approached him, saluting.

"Er, sir? We've managed to get a response from all but one ship."

The Rear Admiral stood, and gazed at the offending console.

"Just trigger the Sulaco's remote navigation. Even with the crew asleep, we should be able to maneuver the ship into our fleet." With that order, the Rear Admiral returned to his chair, and the Sulaco, above an empty planet, began to move.

----

"Run."

That was what one of the other marines had said, moments after the Rasp, called up by their commander, had landed.

That was their last words, as they stepped into the Rasp, and a massive, grey scaled monster of a mother had punished him for simply being there.

The Marines did not last against them for long, Bobby Dickens thought, as he peered around a corridor, and hurriedly ran, trying to mask the sound his footsteps made on the weeds that were everywhere in the ship. He had grown used to them.

Sure, he wasn't the only survivor who was awake, but he wasn't in the nests below his feet, where the worms emerged.

He wasn't in the bowels of Engineering, where a small amount of marines had boarded themselves in, and still fought.

He was tired, he was hungry, and he was constantly in danger. It had taken him hours to even get a few MRES, and those didn't last long, over the next few days.

He couldn't sleep.

That was the mistake one of the others had made.

She woke them up with muffled screams, as she fought to get the crablike creature on her face off. Yet, they were still loud enough for some of the golden crested ones to hear. For the doglike ones to hear.

They didn't kill her, of course. They took her down to the hangar, where the nests were.

She stayed down there a few hours, before leaving.

But she was never freed.

So, as he ran down the narrow corridor, he froze momentarily, listening for the telltale hiss of one of the planters, which was irked about a human near their weeds being planted, or the roar of a slaughterer, eager to slash through him, or the irritated cooing of a Sentinel, which would 'guide' him to a nest, and discover he had no worm in him.

She would fix that, and he would leave the same way other survivors had.

Most of them were still down below, in the hangars. Planting weeds, guarding, and pouncing on each other.

Up here, though, there were still several. Occasionally, even 'she' came up, to lay more eggs. She was brilliant, she was deadly, and she knew he and the other survivors existed. Didn't she?

"Command accepted." M.O.T.H.E.R suddenly spoke, her placid voice being completely dissonant with the situation the few survivors on board were in.

"Please stand by for the jump to Bluespace." She continued, her speakers drawing hissing noises, and even a slight bit of interest from a creature below decks, slowly aging towards Ancient, as her maturing Praetorians continued to give her plasma, and tend to her every need. Well, all of her daughters did.

"No." Bobby said, only to freeze, as he realized he had been stupid enough to speak. M.O.T.H.E.R could hear him, and so could they.

So, as he heard the tell-tale growl of a Runner, from one of the nearby rooms, he ran, yet again.

If not for the jump to bluespace disorienting everyone, the Runner would have likely caught her prey.

--------

"Sulaco has arrived, and is moving into position." One of the Bridge Officers replied, as the Rear Admiral grinned. The ships were here, and the US's victory, under his command, was reassured.

"Bioscan indicates 54 unidentified-" M.O.T.H.E.R began to speak, being largely ignored, as the Rear Admiral began to give orders.

The battle was soon to come.

[Weaselburg]

As the message began, the Bridge Officers reflexively stood at attention, while the Rear Admiral reclined in his chair, as a grey haired man's face, covered in wrinkles, materialized.

"Greetings, Rear Admiral Moeller. I've sent this communication due to a series of problems with the U.S.S.R. The US is considering going into open war with them, and we need all of the ships in the region mobilized. Order M.O.T.H.E.R to access every ship in the region, and get them to this point." A small icon appeared, on a massive star chart, as the Rear Admiral nodded, thinking to himself. The message, pre-recorded, simply continued. "This area runs across a major trade route for the U.S.S.R, and it's likely that their armada will be stationed on that route. We will meet you in the region. Good day." Then, the message flickered out, as Moeller thought, a grin growing on his face.

Why simply go there and wait, when he could bring about a decisive victory there?

"Well? You heard him. Send orders to all of the ships in the region, NOW." With that, the Bridge Officers were rushing around in a panic, and typing.

Several minutes later, one officer tentatively approached him, saluting.

"Er, sir? We've managed to get a response from all but one ship."

The Rear Admiral stood, and gazed at the offending console.

"Just trigger the Sulaco's remote navigation. Even with the crew asleep, we should be able to maneuver the ship into our fleet." With that order, the Rear Admiral returned to his chair, and the Sulaco, above an empty planet, began to move.

----

"Run."

That was what one of the other marines had said, moments after the Rasp, called up by their commander, had landed.

That was their last words, as they stepped into the Rasp, and a massive, grey scaled monster of a mother had punished him for simply being there.

The Marines did not last against them for long, Bobby Dickens thought, as he peered around a corridor, and hurriedly ran, trying to mask the sound his footsteps made on the weeds that were everywhere in the ship. He had grown used to them.

Sure, he wasn't the only survivor who was awake, but he wasn't in the nests below his feet, where the worms emerged.

He wasn't in the bowels of Engineering, where a small amount of marines had boarded themselves in, and still fought.

He was tired, he was hungry, and he was constantly in danger. It had taken him hours to even get a few MRES, and those didn't last long, over the next few days.

He couldn't sleep.

That was the mistake one of the others had made.

She woke them up with muffled screams, as she fought to get the crablike creature on her face off. Yet, they were still loud enough for some of the golden crested ones to hear. For the doglike ones to hear.

They didn't kill her, of course. They took her down to the hangar, where the nests were.

She stayed down there a few hours, before leaving.

But she was never freed.

So, as he ran down the narrow corridor, he froze momentarily, listening for the telltale hiss of one of the planters, which was irked about a human near their weeds being planted, or the roar of a slaughterer, eager to slash through him, or the irritated cooing of a Sentinel, which would 'guide' him to a nest, and discover he had no worm in him.

She would fix that, and he would leave the same way other survivors had.

Most of them were still down below, in the hangars. Planting weeds, guarding, and pouncing on each other.

Up here, though, there were still several. Occasionally, even 'she' came up, to lay more eggs. She was brilliant, she was deadly, and she knew he and the other survivors existed. Didn't she?

"Command accepted." M.O.T.H.E.R suddenly spoke, her placid voice being completely dissonant with the situation the few survivors on board were in.

"Please stand by for the jump to Bluespace." She continued, her speakers drawing hissing noises, and even a slight bit of interest from a creature below decks, slowly aging towards Ancient, as her maturing Praetorians continued to give her plasma, and tend to her every need. Well, all of her daughters did.

"No." Bobby said, only to freeze, as he realized he had been stupid enough to speak. M.O.T.H.E.R could hear him, and so could they.

So, as he heard the tell-tale growl of a Runner, from one of the nearby rooms, he ran, yet again.

If not for the jump to bluespace disorienting everyone, the Runner would have likely caught her prey.

--------

"Sulaco has arrived, and is moving into position." One of the Bridge Officers replied, as the Rear Admiral grinned. The ships were here, and the US's victory, under his command, was reassured.

"Bioscan indicates 54 unidentified-" M.O.T.H.E.R began to speak, being largely ignored, as the Rear Admiral began to give orders.

The battle was soon to come.

OH MY GOOD MOREEEEEEEEEEEe