volumenine-blog

[volumenine-blog]

The Cheesiverse

“Ten,”

               Dix found the countdowns the worst part of the job. Being an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper wasn't all what it was cracked up to be; being literally dropped into dangerous war zones from space, having the G.I.’s calling you crazy behind your back, actually being crazy to have volunteered for this line of work. But if he had to put a finger on the worst aspect of the job, it was the countdowns to jump into the fray. He was already a nervous wreck worrying his Drop Pod wouldn’t burn up in the atmosphere and having to prolong that worry with a slow, stomach churning countdown only made it worse.

               “Nine,”

But he wasn’t dropping from orbit this time. He was standing in the middle of a school gymnasium. The school had been abandoned for several months after a recent infestation of the mind controlling Flood arose on this planet. A bloody battle was being fought against the squid-like creatures, and to gain the upper hand, the United Nations Space Command had decided that teleporting its soldiers right into the heart of the enemy was the best solution for attack. So a team of scientists and an experimental teleporter were snuck near the enemy and prepared for short-range teleportation. And Dix was to be the guinea pig to test this teleporter.

“Eight,”

Dix brushed back his mop of a haircut and looked down at the helmet in his hands. A smooth black shell of hard resin surrounded the full-head helmet but for the polygonal, tinted faceplate that made the ODSTs so imposing. Despite the snazzy looks, the designers of the light shock trooper armour certainly didn't factor in the profuse sweating and inevitable BO that builds up in the helmet from the operator wearing it.  And Dix wasn't any less sweaty from his pre-mission anxiety. Dix took one last breath of fresh air and plunged himself into the black shell of head gear.

“Seven,”

The claustrophobic environment of his heads-up display flickered into existence, the start-up text suffocating his visor and faceplate. Dix looked around the large room to calibrate his sensors. Rows and rows of tables were arranged to form a makeshift mission control behind him, computer technicians telling off data analysis staff for unplugging important equipment to charge their phones.

“Six,”

To his left were two of the members of his squad, Blank and Fergus. Blank was a pale redheaded fellow whose thoughts were a bit, well, blank. This did, however, help him keep focused and he quickly became the heavy weapons specialist of the group, able to unjam the biggest of guns under duress. Fergus was the stern leader of his squad, and as such permitted no tomfoolery of a nickname. His steel wit was the last thing standing when nothing else could. Fergus had been a major part in getting the squad out of many tough scrapes. Everyone thought he was actually a big softie, but would never say it to his fearsome demeanor. To his right was Vixen. She had earned that nickname by wearing antlers on her helmet during a Christmas time skirmish, and also by being a woman. Her witty puns kept the team uplifted when they needed it and her really bad ones didn't help in the slightest.

“Five,”

Dix looked forward to complete his suit's diagnostics and saw the key to this whole operation, the experimental teleporter codenamed “Austin”. An elliptical ring of smooth metal, Austin was conceived from reverse-engineered technology stolen from the Covenant, a religious military coalition of various alien races. The Covenant was responsible for nearly destroying the entire galaxy by activating multiple doomsday stations they thought to be holy.

“Four,”

It was only by the sheer awesome might of the genetic super soldier known only as Master Chief that the Covenant was thwarted. It was that moment of triumph that made Dix sign up to fight for UNSC. To fight for humanity, to be the hero everyone needed. He had almost met Master Chief once, passing by on space cruiser over a world Dix was fighting on. If only he could tell Master Chief how his act of heroism had made Dix turn his life around, Dix would have died a happy man.

“Three,”

“Hey, Dix, you there? Dix! Get your head out of the clouds!” Vixen pushed a MA5C Combat System into Dix’s hands. “We need you here and now,”

               Pulling his mind back into reality, Dix gripped the automatic rifle given to him and brought it up in a ready position. This is it.

“Two,”

The teleporter crackled to life, blue-white energy filling the archway structure of the frame. The portal was so bright it was as if it was all the lights in the room had turned off.

“One”

Dix tensed, ready to give it to the enemy.

“Go!”

Dix sprang forward, running full tilt into the light and hit something solid. He opened his eyes and everything was dark.

Had something gone wrong? Did he just run into the wall on the other side of the room? Dix tried to step away from the wall, but found his legs were stuck. He tried moving his arms to push himself away, but his arms were stuck too. He quickly realised his entire body was stuck, encased by something firm. He must have been teleported into a Flood beast, some horror of a mutated body. And he was stuck inside of it.

He had to get himself free of the foul creature. Dix tried to kick and punch with all his might, trying to make the flesh give a little. The beast did not seem happy by that, and the flesh began to tighten around Dix. Panicking, Dix began to struggle even more. The monster constricted even tighter around him. He was having difficulty breathing now, but he was going to fight this thing. Then Dix’s faceplate shattered inwards, spraying sharp plastic shards into his face.

Dix began to scream in pain and the flesh filled his mouth. Dix bit down to force the monster out, but stopped in shock as soon as he tasted the intruder. It wasn’t flesh. He wasn’t inside a monster. He was surrounded by hard cheese.

As if in response to Dix’s horrifying comprehension, the cheese crushed down on him further. It was in his ears, in his eyes. He felt his ribcage buckle and break, bone fragments spearing through his lungs.

Dix didn’t want to die, not yet and not like this. He was going to get Master Chief to autograph his helmet, buy a car, and ask out that pretty girl in the 32nd division. He at least wanted to see his parents again, in their old two story apartment that smelled of soap.

Dix began to cry, but then his eyeballs popped in a wash of pain. He gasped and felt more pain from his broken body.

No. Please, no, Thought Dix.

***

And as his internal organs were ruptured, the small human died. His last thought was if his squad mates had been accidentally sent into the same place as he. They did. They met the same messy fate as the small human and the universe of cheese they had been deposited into didn’t even pay heed to their death. But do not despair, dear reader, for these brave men and women did not die in vain, as their remains moulder into new cheesy flavours, but rather they died for the Gouda of this universe.

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