The sweet scent of burning wood mingled with the crisp night air. As the embers crackled and popped, they released tiny sparks that floated upwards, illuminating the gloomy interior of the dilapidated shelter. Shadows sprang to life on the rough-hewn walls, shifting and flickering as the flames danced.
The Hooligans, members of the elite Sciathán Fianóglach an Airm (Irish Army Ranger Wing), sat in a loose circle around the small fire, their faces illuminated by its warm glow. Each lost to the recollections of that fateful day - an event that had irrevocably altered the course of their lives. The crackling of the fire was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
It had been two long years since the catastrophic fall of the Stargate facility. Yet, the memories remained vivid and fresh, etched in their consciousness like the deep scars they all wore on their bodies.
They faced the relentless onslaught of the Iron Grenadiers. They had little warning and had done their best to prepare to repel the invading force. Having dug in and reinforced their positions, the Hooligans were willing to give their lives to ensure the security of the Stargate - a gateway to countless worlds and a symbol of hope for the beleaguered remnants of their civilization.
The threats they faced that day escalated dramatically with the unexpected opening of the long-dormant Stargate. The immense stone structure rippled with energy, casting an otherworldly glow as it opened. From the depths of the swirling event horizon emerged white-clad warriors. Armed with futuristic weaponry, they unleashed a hailstorm of explosive chaos upon the defenders.
They had narrowly escaped the undead horde that surged towards them. The grotesque figures, with their rotting limbs and sunken eyes, filled the corridors of the facility. Their arms outstretched in desperation, fingers curled with cracked and blackened nails poised to latch onto anything that dared to move within their reach. The stench of decay hung in the air, punctuated by their ferocious growling and the shuffling of their feet across the cold, hard floor.
The Hooligans quickly realized they were sorely outnumbered and surrounded. During the chaos and distraction created by the undead and the alien intruders, they made one last desperate attempt to escape the chaos. Thinking fast, Castor and Brimstone pried open a section of the worn floor paneling, revealing the dark, narrow labyrinth of ventilation shafts crisscrossing the facility. They scrambled into the cramped space, quickly replacing the floor panel, and began low crawling around its twists and turns. They navigated their way to the subterranean tunnels that connected the Stargate and the small town a few miles away.
When they came aground in the small cottage that had served as their forward observation post, Dublin set off the charges that destroyed the Stargate and collapsed the facility. They could feel the ground shake even two miles away. The windows of the surrounding cottages were blown from their frames, sending shards of glass flying through the air. When the dust settled, all that remained of the top-secret base was a massive plume of smoke snaking upward from an enormous crater.
Miraculously, the beings that had emerged from the Stargate also survived the disaster. The Hooligans had engaged with these foes on multiple occasions since that fateful day. They noted how their adversaries' once pristine white armor had been altered: it became dull over time and covered in graffiti. During their encounters, The Hooligans observed a change in the enemy weaponry; they had begun combining Earth weapons with their own extraterrestrial firepower.
In an unexpected turn of events, during one of their intense skirmishes, The Hooligans found themselves allied with their enemy. As the two groups fought back-to-back against a barrage of monstrous undead. As the last shot was fired and the last zombie was dispatched, an unsettling quiet spread over the battlefield. As the adrenaline faded, both sides began to take stock of their surroundings and each other, sending an unexpected camaraderie. They exchanged cautious glances, realizing their enmity had given way to mutual respect. Each side began to share knowledge gleaned from their experiences in battle.
It was then that The Hooligans learned that the Stormtroopers resembled humans. Until then, they had theorized what they may have looked like under their bulbous helmets. They were further shocked to discover that the newcomers spoke a language strikingly similar to English.
They identified as Stormtroopers of the Empire. They explained that they had been sent through the Stargate to scout new worlds to expand their Emperor's reach. However, fate had thrust them into a life-or-death struggle for survival when they unexpectedly faced off against the flesh-hungry ghouls that plagued the planet.
The Stormtroopers told tales of their harrowing encounters with the undead. They spoke matter-of-factly about how each mission had ended the same way. The Empire had a strict protocol for dealing with infected planets, obliterating them entirely rather than allowing the infection to spread. The Stormtroopers explained that if the Empire could get to Earth, they would destroy it.
The Stormtroopers and The Hooligans realized that, given the circumstances, they were not enemies. They had gone their separate ways, no longer foes.
On the other hand, the threat posed by the Iron Grenadiers, who had launched the attack on the Stargate, had been eliminated. The Hooligans had not seen any evidence of their presence over the last two years.
During this time, they ventured across the vast expanse of the isle, exploring its rugged terrain. In their travels, they discovered numerous survivor communities. These enclaves, often built in seemingly inhospitable locations, had forged a fragile existence despite the countless threats that plagued humanity in this post-apocalyptic landscape. The residents had learned to adapt and survive. They constructed sturdy walls from salvaged materials - wood planks, scrap metal, tires, and even box trucks - to protect their homes from the roaming undead and potential marauders.
Life persisted within the fortified settlements. Residents cultivated small gardens, and many raised livestock; goats, chickens, and rabbits were commonplace, supplying milk, cheese, eggs, and meat.
It was in the perseverance and spirit of these communities that The Hooligans found renewed inspiration.
Now, as they sat paying silent tribute to the past, each member began to think of a brighter future. They envisioned a time when Ireland would be liberated from the grip of the undead scourge that plagued their lands. A future where the walls could be torn down. A future where children could once again run freely, laughing and playing without fear of monsters lurking in the shadows.
Dublin was first to break the silence, "Pass them around," he said, handing out glass tumblers. The Hooligans obliged until each held the empty glass. "Now, the good stuff," Dublin took a clear bottle from his bag, one they all recognized, the green label peeling at the edges. Bushmills Single Malt. He took the cap off, smelling the delicious aroma. "I've kept this all year, for just this moment," he offered, pouring small amounts into each glass.
Then, Dublin cleared his throat, raising his glass, he began,
"Hills as green as emeralds
Cover the countryside
Lakes as blue as sapphires-
And Ireland's special pride
And rivers that shine like silver
Make Ireland look so fair-
But the friendliness of her people
Is the richest treasure there."
Castor continued,
"May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you."
Scathach was next,
"May the enemies of Ireland never meet a friend."
Brimstone took the next stanza,
"May luck be our companion
May friends stand by our side
May history remind us all
Of Ireland's faith and pride."
Gunna finished, "Slainte."
They savored the sweet profile that warmed them as they swallowed.
Comments