Fallen Stars

by LoosePartyCannon

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Dark, Comedy, Adventure, Science Fiction
Length: 40186

After the Human warship, the H.D.C.S. Southern Cross, crash lands on Equestria things drastically change.

What happens when a Human Warship, filled to burst with colonists, soldiers, nobles and scientists crash lands on Equestria with no obvious way home? Will these explorers usher in the end of Equs? Will they elevate the planet to the stars? Will they leave for the stars, leaving the primitive races behind? Or will the planet wipe them out? All these outcomes are unlikely, but all of them could possibly happen…This is the story of the H.D.C.S. Southern Cross and her atypical crew.

(Cover art found by Nightwing.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-22 07:01:45 UTC

Chapter 1: Going where no man has gone before. (Edited by Anon ymous.)

Fallen Stars - Chapter 1: Going where no man has gone before.

Space.

Space is thousands of things to even more people, but it’s not calm. It’s hypnotically beautiful, so vibrantly colourful that it transcends the works of art that clog the Armada’s vast exhibitions. It’s so somber and quiet that you could go mad with just your thoughts and the hum of your ship. It’s enticing, but it’s not calm. Since as far as any living Human can remember, Humanity has been a constant inhabitant of space and it’s endless ethereal planes. They constructed colossal ships to house their families, world shattering weapons to defend themselves, and liars to use them. They've fought for eons to defend their degrading homes. They fought to protect Earth, they fought to leave it, they fought to colonize our system and now Humanity fights even to colonize another planet. They have so few planets you could count them on a natural hand.

The war torn Novaguard, bastion of the Defense Corp.

The Hybrid lead Ferrusola, a planet untouched by war and civil unrest.

Mars, the Transhumanist’s only shelter from persecution.

What remains of Earth, Humanities’ crib and soon-to-be deathbed.

And lastly Styx, the forgotten colony.

Since the Machina revolted, Humanity has been on a gradual decline. The Ascended now posed a risk of replacing Humanity as the greatest race in the cosmos and this fear is felt through the remaining colonies. But, more than the Ascended, more than the Machina, Humanity fears itself. The aristocratic Royal Human Trade Armada, who have an iron clad grip on galactic trade and the Human Armada is in a constant cold war with the Humanitarian Unification Alliance, the democratic warmachine who collectively believe Humanity needs to be led under a single banner to wipe out our antagonists. But, since the equally disastrous war for Novaguard, the Universe has been disarmingly quiet. The gun fire has temporarily stopped and from this welcomed respite of hostility and self-destruction the R.H.T.A has continued to do what it relishes doing, profiteering. Two years since the end of the nuclear war, the colonial parties have been rising and aggressively pushing for more control and galactic provinces for Humanity to pridefully call home. And from these efforts, this tale of unforeseen events was born. Thousands of light years away from the Human Armada, the H.D.C.S. Southern Cross enters the unknown and mysterious system only called Sierra-34. This, is where our story begins: On the outskirts of a mystic system…

“FUCK IT ALL!” Captain Matthew cursed loudly as he dived behind the only cover he could find in the once pristine, now ashen and scorch stained, bridge. As he hit the floor next to one of his fellow crew members he unholstered his silver plated plasma revolver, its green light inside the reinforced glass chamber glowing almost as pale as its wielder’s alabaster skin. The captain was as human as anyone, sans his outward appearance and celestial powers. He was taller than most humans, easily six feet, and had pale skin that glowed faintly. His usually cocky smile and scared face was scrunched up in hate and determination, his golden eyes glowing intensely.

“Hey, Guardsman, what the hell happened?” The Captain asked as he set his pistol to kill, reveling in the sound of the plasma charging up.

“W-We don’t know Sir! We heard scattered reports of Civvies acting odd, but we didn’t know- crap!” he flinched as impacts hit the impromptu cover. “- We didn’t know there were Alliance soldiers onboard!” He shakingly responded, almost jumping as an armour piercing bullet flew above their heads. He was right, the Bridge and Barracks had been receiving constant strings of Civvies acting out, and the fact that the soon-to-be Lord Governor of whatever colony they were going to establish, Patrick Woolsworth, was unable to be reached made the entire thing seem even more insidious. But no one could have expected a hostile takeover attempt by the H.U.A. Brushing his brown and silver fringe out of his eyes, he placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes with a charismatic smile.

“Soldier listen to me, we will make it out of this, we will beat these bastards and we will be welcomed as heroes when we get back to the Armada, parade and all, but for now follow my orders and we’ll be okay, alright?” Matthew said to the high strung guard, who seemed to be calming down.

“Yeah...Okay...Yeah, we can do this!” The guard said as he breathed deeply and then looked at his Captain, a stoic look in his green eyes.

“That’s the spirit…” Matt gestured with his free hand, hoping the soldier would give him his name.

“ Field Medic Christopher Robin, Sir!” He shouted out, the formalities ingrained in his head. He looked and sounded like a normal trooper. He wore the same white and red plated combat armour as every other field medic and carried the standard issue 'Red Dwarf' laser rifle, the black gun made obvious by its shortened barrel, burning red beams and augmented scope. His armour was scratched in various places places, his chest plates were dented and scratched, his shoulder pads and  grey fatigues underneath were burnt from plasma fire and his white helmet had a massive dent on the side were a red cross was painted, a testament to its quality if it took an armour piercing bullet and didn’t break. On his back rested a brown pack, most likely carrying supplies, and an old ballistic sniper rifle from the 23rd century or possibly later. around his pale neck rested a black cloth of some kind, possibly a balaclava, and his brown hair was sticking out of the bottom of his helmet. On his scratched chest plate a prominent red cross still stood, despite the damage. On his belt rested a rather large medical kit, no doubt carrying even more medical supplies. All in all, he looked like your average, young soldier geared for adventure.

“You got strength in your voice, that’s good. Listen to me Chris, can I call you Chris?” The soldier nodded as he looked over the crest of the table, looking at the enemies who stood behind the torn bulkhead door of the bridge. “You see that terminal over there? I need you to run over to it and contact these personal. It’s vital that you establish a connection between me and these crew members. I’ll cover you, don’t worry. ‘Sides, they probably want the Captain’s head, not a doctor's.” The captain ordered as he cocked his revolver, tipped his black and platinum hat at him, flashing a huge grin and passing Chris an ornate looking PDA with various numbers and signals displayed on the screen.

“Understood Sir…” Christopher replied as he turned to face the terminal a few feet away from them. The Bridge was a mess, the crew had just enough time to prepare themselves, most of them getting injured or hit. Thankfully no one on the crew’s side had been killed. The various infantrymen stationed to protect the Officers and Agents were fighting valiantly, only ducking into cover to reload.

“Go!” Matthew shoved Chris as he stood up and began firing at the doorway. his lavish black nano-silk suit with platinum accents and small, yet detailed, blue cloak draped over his left shoulder acting as a massive target to the deadly, and well armed, interlopers. Blinding shots of plasma soared through the sterilized air, one or two shots melting a separatist head, while the medic ran to the digital terminal. He huddled in front of it, pressing the necessary buttons to activate the holographic U.I, the ship violently shock for the tenth time in the last few minutes smashing the soldier and anyone else who wasn’t prepared into the white, polished floor. Rising to his feet and cursing under his breath, Chris rose up and looked at the PDA before typing the code into the holographic display.

“Come on, come on...Yes, fucking A!” The soldier muttered under his breath as the connection was established, projecting a live feed of the star ship’s engine room and the audio blasting crystal clear through the in built speaker. On the other side of the screen stood a tall, almost featureless hooded robot working away at the opposite terminal while alarms blared in the background.

“Um, this is Field Medic Christopher Robin acting on behalf of Captain Matthew Alexard and he...Um…”

“Ask him what the hell is going on!” The Captain shouted as he grabbed the charging would-be assassin with his golden psionic powers and hurled him back into the outside chamber, smashing him against the paneled walls.

“Uh, he wants to know what’s happening down there.” The Infantryman continued, the frustrated Machina finally glancing back.

“What’s happening Christopher is the engines have shut down, we have no idea how or why but we’re confident we’ll have this mess sorted out in a jiffy!” The old robot answered, its jovial, androgynous voice weirdly calm in spite of everything. It was typing away at the terminal, inputting commands and checking systems while its companion worked on the engine itself. It typed away, its royal blue, blood red and gold robe fluttered gently, allowing anyone nearby to see its metal, skeletal hands. Instead of blood vessels and nerves, it had wires and synthetic joints. Its entire body was the same, under its majestic, intricate robe, a naked mechanical skeleton, the only covering being a few lightweight nanofiber and carbon alloy plates protecting vital parts like its cooling system, generator and main servo. Anything else that needed protection was encased in its large, blocky head. On the side of its black head the designation ‘DAYNE’ was painted on in faded white lettering. The only hint of advanced intelligence in the obsolete A.I was a bright, blue glow in its three optical lens signaling Ascended origins.

“Well, that’s good to know…”The soldier on the other end replied, turning his head away from the screen to look at someone further away. “The captain wants to know if any Separatist forces tried to attack or destroy you.” The man continued, causing DAYNE to chuckle, its cold voice filled with mirth.

“Oh, those men were H.U.A troopers?! Oh, ho, ho what a riot! And here I thought they were particularly well armed Machina haters. Yes, they burst in with all the swagger you’d expect from that lot, but me and MAG dealt with them!” It responded, its tone upbeat as it continued to work through all the complex software.

“If by ‘dealt with’ you mean ‘killed and tossed out the airlock’ then yeah, we ‘dealt’ with them alright. Hey DAYNE, wanna start being useful for once and fix something?” Its less then helpful ‘friend’ MAG responded from below on the bottom floor of the massive engine room, easily four stories down from where DAYNE stood on the fenced off platform.

4815-M4G R-L3, or MAG as everyone called it, was DAYNE’s companion and permanent nuisance. Unlike the antiquated chassis DAYNE was stuck with, MAG was a relatively new model. Its most outstanding feature was its eight, adaptable and armour plated legs. The legs, magnetic plates on the ends of the stumps and the gyroscope inserted into its chassis allowed MAG to climb walls like a giant, synthetic spider. Its torso was like the rest of it: sleek, angular and well protected. The four front legs were outfitted with grasping ‘hands’ able to let it grab most tools and manipulate them with ease. Its head was a small, round frame with plated armour added on, allowing it to move in all directions. It had two large optical lenses on the front of its head and four small, information relaying antennas located on top of the spherical head. He was found painted military standard grey, but overtime it became a sort of game to add to his body. Someone had painted the coat of arms on the front of him in blue paint, someone else had placed various bumper sticks where its butt would be if it were human and some repainted its designation on the back of its head.

“MAG, must you be so insufferable all the time? We’re trying to save this ship!” DAYNE questioned as MAG sighed loudly.

“I knew this was how I was gonna die. Conscripted to serve some Empress I don’t care about, with a bunch of squishy Humans I don’t like and now I’m gonna die on a ship that sucks. Life really is misery…” MAG complained as it climbed up the side of the Engine and began removing tools from its hidden compartment in its torso.

“Oh shut up MAG and stop being so dramatic. Anyway, everything’s fine down here! We’ll hopefully have the engines online soon…” DAYNE responded to the confused soldier who looked eager to get back into cover.

“Roger, stay safe down there.” The medic said as he terminated the call, allowing DAYNE to begin panicking again.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no...MAG please tell me you’ve found anything!” DAYNE pleaded as it began to suffer a panic attack.

“Nope, nada, looks like this is either an EMP, an unknown virus or some other external threat...Sorry buddy, nothing we can do.” MAG replied as he began scaling the massive, dormant machine towards its hooded friend.

“There has to be something we can do, anything, the ship and her crew are counting on us, MAG!” DAYNE declared loudly as it punched the side of the terminal violently, causing the Dampeners in its knuckles to absorb most of the shock.

“Look DAYNE, it’s like this: either we can’t do anything because of the enemy, or we can’t do anything because we just can’t. Either way, we’re not at fault. And if the ship goes down, at least we have a higher chance of living right?” MAG tried, and failed, to rationalize as DAYNE did the robotic version of hyperventilating slightly.

“There...There has to be something I can do…” DAYNE stuttered as it continued to enter commands and search for a cause, while MAG was busy disposing of the dead bodies of the human intruders.

“Killing traitors just isn’t what it used to be…” The sole shock trooper tittered aloud to himself as he placed one of his metal boots onto the back of the last remaining H.U.A soldier. Her legs were crippled and filled with bullets and she was desperately crawling to her handgun. With a nonchalant look of indifference the trooper aimed his black and blue, dual barreled automatic pistol, the M-4 Hunter, at the back of her head and fired a single bullet. Ending her struggling instantly. With a sigh, the soldier holstered his altered pistol into the side of his black belt. The small, barely lit coffee shop he was in was littered with bullet holes, blood stains and broken windows, tables and display cases. While assisting in getting the Civvies to safety he’d seen these bastards run into the coffee shop hoping to grab a few hostages. Before running in, he’d cut the power, activated the camo module in his armour and cleared out the room. No injuries, no dead Civvies and all hostiles K.I.A. It was a damn good effort on his part. Wiping the blood off his glove and armour covered hands onto the clothes of the rebel, he checked his armour for damage.

He wore a light armoured variant of the standard Shock Trooper gear. He’d removed the extra armour plating for pouches on the front of his chestplate so he could carry greater amounts of ammo, rations and supplies and wore the standard, flexible layered leggings. his right arm was noticeably less armoured than his left arm, mostly because his left arm and parts of the left side of his torso were cybernetic. His entire left arm was a sleek, metallic replacement with plated, nanofiber armour. Inside the arm were the usual attachments found in most soldier’s synth arms: a wrist mounted PDA, a heart rate monitor and shock dampeners to make hand to hand combat easier. But, unlike most operatives, he’d added plated armour on the frame of the arm, giving his shoulder and arm a look similar to a medieval knight or Royal Guard’s attire, just painted dark blue and black like the rest of his gear. Aside from the heavily, yet lightweight, armoured attachment he was mostly normal.

“Goddamn assholes scuffed up my armour!” He swore loudly as he saw that in the firefight one of the pricks had scraped his chest plate, ruining his platoon’s emblem: A black raven in the center of a red, burning sun. As he looked around for his weapons, he heard one of the Civvies that were hiding in the back room quietly walk out and looked around, most likely sick at what he was seeing.

“I-Is it safe to come out?” He asked, holding back the vomit in his throat as the shock trooper looked for his axe, and quickly found the steel instrument lodged in the back of their C.O’s skull.

“Yes, head down that way and head to the first right on your left, there should be a panic room there. Tell them Operative Dan Grayson will be with them shortly.” He instructed as he pulled the small combat axe out, quickly cleaning the blood off the matte, stainless steel and placing the leather handle and ax in its holder. As the Civ and about ten others ran off, his PDA started connecting him to someone.

“Hello, I’m not receiving a visual? This is Field Medic Robin. Operative Grayson, the Captain wishes to know what the situation in the Civilian sector is.” The voice from his PDA asked, his young, unconfident voice drowned out by gunfire and screaming.

“The situation has been swiftly rectified, the H.U.A forces were unprepared for a team of shock troopers to deal with them. The Civilians have been sent to the emergency panic rooms and the market district has been cleared out. Over.” He said as he walked outside and looked for his rifle, which was lying ten feet away from the store on top of a muffin stall. The well lit, spacious market was basically a mall and farmers market rolled into one, multiple stories high and a hundred or so meters wide, it had everything a Civvie or soldier would want while on deployment. Stores lined the walls, holographic displays and signs advertising the wares found inside, and the center of the enormous room was a food court and hundreds of stalls mostly run by the Civvies who worked the hydroponic farms, or people who just made nick-nacks and crap from their culture, religion or historical background. It was a melting pot of consumerism, culture and cheap, non-MRE,  food. As Dan walked over to pick up his angular rifle, the ship violently shuddered and moved, throwing him to the ground and knocking over many of the tables and kiosks.

“Why is the ship rocking back and forth?!” Dan yelled, incredibly annoyed that this was the fifth time he’d fallen over. Everyone had heard the alarms and warnings announcing the engines going offline mid-transit, but usually something like this would have been fixed by now.

“We don’t know, Sir. Head Scientist DAYNE and Head Engineer MAG are both working on the issue.” The soldier replied, not helping the current situation as he picked himself up and grabbed his rifle: the S-9 Infiltrator, assault variant. The weapon was the staple of most Shock Trooper’s arsenal, it was ergonomic, compact, energy efficient and ran on reusable cells making the sleek, small rifle a favourite. But the assault variant was a bit more experimental than the stock standard. It had a larger stock on the end of the adjustable grip, a hair trigger and a tracker scope, an experimental scope that connected to a soldier’s helmet or a Cyborg’s eyes, allowing only the user to utilize the adjustable scope that was able to mark targets. The last two differences were the the ammo it used and the heat emission. The gun ran on what many simply call ‘Yellow energy cells’, or scientifically OCEC, Overcharged Converted Energy Cells. If you took the standard ammunition most soldiers used, changed most of the materials in them and overworked said materials you’d have Yellow energy. It doesn't just burn through armour and flesh, it burns through metal walls, concrete and almost anything else. It’s highly destructive, but inefficient ammo consumption and the heat emissions hold it back. When a gun's grip can burn bare flesh you know it’s not meant for most soldiers.

“Well tell DAYNE to hurry up, we’re on a crash course for a planet right? I don’t think I want my first experience on said planet to be me picking pieces of my face off the wall.” Dan snarled as he picked up the still warm weapon and sprinted to a marked panic room. Inside the smaller, yet still comfy, emergency area sat families, soldiers and everything in between like service bots and officers. At the door stood two guardsman with automatic ballistic weapons cocked and ready. As the trooper rapidly neared them, they began to step away from the door.

“Hurry up, Sir! We need to secure the Civilians before the ship breaks atmo!” One of them shouted, a mix of stoic calmness and contained fear. It was a normal reaction, they had to keep up the appearance for the Civvies but unless your job involved landing planetside in a small pod, you never get used to the feeling of falling from the sky. As Dan cleared the threshold of the door, one of the guards slammed their fist onto the door control panel, sealing the bulkhead door and began pressurizing the room. Everyone was either already in their allocated seat or helping someone else close the safety bars and securing them. The other Guard saluted him as he walked down towards the seats assigned to military personnel, near the front of the room.

“Okay Sir, the captain wishes to know how many Civvies made it to the panic room in time.” The man asked through Dan’s PDA. As he sat down in the adequately comfortable chair, securing himself in position with the belt and bars around me, he quickly counted as many as he could, it took awhile but he got it done.

“145 Civvies, 15 military personal.” Dan reported, breathing deeply to calm himself down after the small skirmish and sprint.

“...Alright, looks like everyone on that level of the sector is accounted for. Thank you, Field Medic Robin signing off.” As the signal was dropped he looked around at the scared civilians, calm soldiers and screaming children, all bathed in the vibrant red glow shining from the small lights in the ceiling. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t be in there for long, because nothing in the known universe was more annoying than a screaming baby.

“Get the fuck back here!” Shouted the large, muscle bound and freakishly modified Augmented terrorist who seemed trigger happy as he continued to fire explosive rounds at the round, short man he was chasing after.

“No! Fuck off!” The Lord Governor shouted back, exhausted and sweating. Years of sitting on his arse managing a toy and figurine factory had left the chubby redhead more than a little out of shape. His large, ornate, golden linen suit was weighing him down, the metal shoulder pads and decorative sword more so. Being a noble was pretty cool, but the suit was far from practical when it come to running away from murderers.

“Come on you prissy little noble, we’ll make it quick if you slow down!” The roid user’s friend mocked as they were beginning to catch up.

“Oh jeez, it’s all going tits up now!” He swore to himself, his brash and loud voice sounding more and more tired as he ran down the dark, poorly lit pathways of the storage area. He didn’t want to be here, but his pursuers had been chasing him halfway across the ship at this point and he’d lost almost all of them now, he couldn’t give up just because the ship was shaking. Every room and walkway was dark and the scrubs chasing him were determined to curbstomp his head in. Coming to a split in the path he chucked the torch he was using to guide him down the right tunnel and ducked behind a crate further down the left path.

“Come on, fall for it you idiots…” He whispered to himself as he heard them approach the split in the path...And go right, their footsteps fading away.

“Ha! See ya, shitlords!” He cried victoriously as he got up on his feet and kept walking, trying to catch his breath.

“Man, you bribe your way into office, and all of a sudden everyone wants you dead...Ah shit where am I?” The minor noble asked himself as he marched onward, guided by the dim lights in the ceiling. The bowels of the Southern Cross were massive, the tunnels seemed to go on forever and the drone of the ship’s reactor was constantly in the background. As the dorky soon-to-be Governor of a colony walked onward, he saw a long stretch of light further up. Curiously, he waddled over and saw it was a reinforced window. It was the first one he’d seen in what felt like ages and was thankful for the light.

“Wow...Space is boring.” He said to himself as he admired the vast expanse of nothing and the large, green and blue rock he was heading for...Then he noticed the star REVOLVING AROUND THE PLANET.

“...W-What?...A-Am I seeing this right? No...I must be going insane…” He said to himself as he rubbed his eyes...He would have kept freaking out if it weren’t for the PDA in his pocket letting out a loud beep, alerting him to the fact that someone was trying to call him. Without looking away from the massive planet with a sun revolving around it, he activated his PDA.

“...Yeah?” He simply asked, too dumbstruck to do anything else.

“L-Lord Governor Woolsworth, Captain Matthew requests your audience on the Bridge immediately...Wait, where are you?” The soldier asked, his questioning tone muffled by people talking loudly and the sounds of bodies being dragged.

“I-I’m in the storage sector...Dude, am I...Am I insane or is there a star revolving around a planet?” Patrick asked, his eye twitching slightly.

“...Yeah, the scientists, Captain and everyone else on the Bridge are asking that as well...As for if you’re insane, that’s debatable...Wait, the storage sector?” The man continued to question.

“Yeah, some assholes were chasing me, trying to kill me or something. Hey, where’s the nearest elevator?” The Governor pondered as he kept walking, trying not to have an aneurysm.

“Hold on, let me track your location on the ship wide map...Okay, you’re pretty close to the service elevator, it should take you to the Bridge.” He confidently stated as he typed away at his terminal.

“How do I-OH SHIT!” He screamed, interrupting himself as the muscle man from before barreled down the hallway, now armed with a shotgun and decked out in nanofiber armour.

“Quick, give me directions!” He continued as he sprinted down the halls, dodging shells.

“Right, then left through the custodian’s change room!” His helpful caller directed. As he turned the corner twice he quickly opened the door, ordering it to slide into the ceiling at the push of a button, then back down and locked the door. As he fall to his arse, panting from the sudden chase he laughed at the pissed off killer who was trying to break the small glass panel on the door by firing straight at it, not knowing the fact that the glass, and almost all the glass on the ship, were designed to withstand, and even reflect, gunshots. He only laughed harder as the roid abuser fell over dead from his own shell.

“What a goddamn idiot! AHAHAHA!” He cried out in between fits of body shaking laughter. After composing himself. He looked around for something to wear. His Governor’s suit was spiffy, but not exactly survival material. The small room was poorly lit, kinda dirty and lined with lockers, boxes and supplies. Only one locker was open and at the bottom of it, crumbled into a small pile, was a plain grey jumpsuit, his favourite kind of jumpsuit. After stripping down to his tightie whities, he threw the decorative, expensive, one of a kind suit into a dirt and water stained corner and donned the stained jumpsuit. Now in more appropriate attire, he looked at a mirror to inspect himself.

He was easily the shortest man on board, just over 5 feet tall, and chubby as all hell, the jumpsuit just able to contain his body rolls. Despite being in his late 20’s he was already losing most of his fiery orange hair, compensating with a sick red beard. Without the uniform, he looked just like a normal loser. After reading the name on the blue patch above his left nipple, Kenny, he quickly shuddered and ripped it off. Something about that name really irked him. Now in his disgusting grey worker’s jumpsuit. He followed the soldier’s directions.

“Oh, there you are! What too-...Is that a janitor’s jumpsuit?” The guy on the other end asked, perplexed at seeing a member of nobility in a nondescript jumpsuit.

“Yeah, wearing gold is pretty boss but not if it gets you killed...I’m almost there, just gotta head down-oh, never mind I’m here...Huh, it was a lot closer than I thought it’d be…” He stopped himself as he approached the wide, metal cargo elevator.

“Great, the elevators on it’s way just hang tight.” The young man said, smiling slightly.

“Where are you, you imperialistic fuck?!” The women from before screamed somewhere behind the janitorial looking man. Thinking quickly, he dived into a room to his left and closed the door shortly before the women came running down the hall looking for him.

“What was that?” The soldier asked, confused and worried.

“Some crazy Alliance soldier who has it out...For...Me...What the…?” Patrick exclaimed as he looked at the room he was in. The first noticeable thing was the clearly Chinese man, dressed in ancient tan and yellow layered armour with a large helmet capped with black and red feathers, who was sealed in a giant block of ice attached to some kind of cooling machine that had it sealed in place and protected by glass. He held a slightly curved steel sword in one hand, a white qing dragon bow and massive wood and metal rifle, a wall rifle he thought to himself with amazement, on his back, a young yellow leopard at his feet. His bald, angry face permanently stuck a state of pain quickly unnerved him. But was even more alarming was the passed out man on the floor.

He was a crazy tall man at nearly 7 feet tall and was wearing a full black BDU with plates of advanced nanofiber armour all over his torso, arms, legs and neck. His muscular body had multiple weapons on him, most noticeably a replica AN-94, an old Human weapon, designed to function as a normal gun with a scope and suppressor attached, an old M1911 with a large magazine jutting out of the bottom of the handle and a large black suppressor, a weird curved sword that had small sparks of blue energy shot off the white blade and a specialized anti material rifle. The rifle was something else entirely. It’s barrel was ridiculously long with a rectangular muzzle brake on the end, an extended magazine that, if the writing on the side would have you believe, held .50 custom rounds. Weirdly, the gun had no scope, just a jack for a pair of headphones or something where a scope would be. For once in his life, Patrick was thankful for all the times his dad had made him study ancient Human weapons.

The man's face was what a polite person would call ‘ghoulish’. His chiseled face would look rather attractive if it weren’t for the massive, deep, chin to temple, scar on the left side of his head and the two large, clearly lethal, bullet wounds above and below his right eye. If it weren’t for the fact that no sane person would dress up and heal a corpse this nicely Patrick would believe this man was long dead. He was a giant of a human, wearing non-R.A.D.C armour, using old Human weapons and had more healed injuries then a well maintained crash test dummy. As Patrick turned to leave, the ship lurched again, causing him to stumble back, trip over the unconscious person, and waves his arms around in a desperate attempt to stop himself. As he hit the ground, he felt his right hand press something, and felt the colour fade from his face when he heard the machine behind him loudly announce-

“Alert, Experimental Resurrection Pod powering up...Beginning the thawing process…”

“What the hell is going on down there?!” The unknown soldier demanded, anxious to know why the Governor was so quiet.

“Umm...This armoured guy was tampering with some stuff down here so I whacked him in the back of the head and he landed on some control panel…” Patrick lied, hoping he’d believe that over ‘I just accidentally fucked with someone’s stuff.’

“Okay...We’ll...Um, send someone down there after we land...Head back to the elevator, it’s almost there.” The man instructed, buying the lie. Quickly getting the hell out of there, Patrick scanned the hallway and the nearby rooms for the girl still hunting him.

“Hey, what’s your name, man?” Patrick asked while he approached the closed doors, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“Christopher Robin Sir.” Chris replied as he checked the progress on the elevator.

“Chris huh? Well, you’re not a total loser so I guess you’re alright.” He complimented as he shuffled awkwardly waiting for the elevator.

“...Thank you Sir?”

“No prob-SHIT!” He stopped himself mid sentence as a beam of ludicrously hot plasma barely missed him and melted a small hole on the elevator door, which opened just as the final assassin showed up.

“You! You killed my brother, you piece of shit!” She furiously screamed as Pat dived into the elevator and hammered the close door button repeatedly.

“Your brother killed himself, be mad at him not me!” Patrick begged like a total coward as the H.U.A soldier stormed down the long hallway while firing rounds at the slowly closing elevator doors.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on…” he muttered as the doors almost completely closed before she shoved her hand in between the doors and grabbed Patrick’s collar and tried to pull him up.

“Hey! Let go of me and pull your goddamn arm out!” He shouted as she pulled him up and tried to aim her gun at his squirming head.

“This is for my brother you piece of-” Her sentence was cut short as the metallic doors slammed shut, severing her arm and muffling her screams of pain. As the elevator rapidly ascended all the way to the top of the warship, a severed arm in Pat’s lap, all he could say was one thing.

“Always pull out…”

“Okay, now chuck the bodies in the janitor’s closet and let him deal with the mess...Hey, Chrisy, where the hell’s Pat?” Matt asked as he looked away from the various Guards who were carrying the lead riddled, partially melted and psionically crushed bodies of the H.U.A soldiers out of the Bridge. All in all the crew had done well, only one or two crew members had been killed and only a few dozen injured. For a crew exceeding five thousand that was a pretty good number by most people’s standards, but not the Captain's. Looking away from the waste of Human D.N.A called H.U.A, Captain Matt looked at Chris who was walking over to him, his helmet finally locked in place and now looking normal, walking calmly with his rifle in hand.

“He’s on his way, Sir, he said he was assaulted by H.U.A forces but was able to lose them in the Lower Storage Sector.” Chris reported with a clear tone. The Captain nodded as he moved past him and up the small flight of stairs that lead up to the top of the Bridge, where the Captain’s chair and various holographic screens sat attached to the comfortable leather chair.

“Tell Pat to get up here and grab a seat, we’re in for a rough landing.” He ordered, taking his spot in his still immaculate chair overlooking the rest of the Bridge. The Bridge, like most of the ship, was primarily white with blue lines painted on the wall and the Defense Corp coat of arms, a black raven with a sword and scroll in each foot painted in front of a shield, parallel on each wall. Below the Captain sat dozens upon dozens of terminals and holographic computers designed to monitor the ship, contact ground teams or function as cyber warfare suites if it were engaged in Ship to Ship combat. Pressing a variety of buttons, the Captain began reading the multiple warnings and alerts throughout the ship. Although he wanted to stay focused, like everyone else in the hectic room, he couldn’t because he was still shocked and in awe at the planet currently spitting in the face of modern science. If the Armada knew there was a sun circling a planet and not the other way around, they’d launch about a thousand vessels to figure this shit out.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened here?” Matt heard Pat loudly exclaim as he entered the room, stepping over the scrunched up body of a now dead enemy.

“Oh you know, had an arguement over who should use the rest room first-what the fuck do you think happened, Pat?” The Captain snapped at the Governor, causing him and a few nearby guards to step back in surprise.

“Hey, we’re both Nobles here, I could take you to Imperial Court for saying shit like that to me.” Pat threatened as he walked down the stairs to the right of the Captain’s chair, and sat down in an unoccupied seat.

“Yeah, but my family has a long line of Admirals, Generals and Nobles to brag about, you’re an ex-factory manager, who the hell do you think the Empress will listen to?” The captain shot back, a blank look on his face.

“...Touche.” Pat simply replied as he locked himself in place and looked out the Bridge’s massive window at the rapidly approaching planet.

“...Plus I can throw you out the airlock with my psionics.” Matt continued with a smirk.

“Dick.”

“What was that? I believe I have a title Mr Woolsworth.” Matt asked with a mocking tone of authority.

“Fine, Captain Dickhead of the Royal Armada.” Pat said with a long sigh.

“Thank you...Jeez, I thought this was gonna be an easy assignment....H.U.A attack, engines falling and now a planet that defies nature...What’s next? Flying technicolor horses that talk?” Matt shouted into the air in exasperation.

“Sir, if we run into talking horses, I’ll eat my own shoes.” Chris said from his chair below the Captain’s perch, his voice a mix of humor and exhaustion.

“Direct all control of the Ship’s steering to me.” Matthew ordered as he cracked his knuckles.

“Sir, without the engines we’ll only be-”

“-Able to change our angle of descent, I know, but from this angle the crash will be catastrophic for us and whatever primitive life’s down there. So I’ll say again, direct all control to me.” Matt ordered, cutting off the female Officer mid sentence.

“I sure as Styx hope you know what you’re doing Captain…” Pat muttered as he held onto his chair tightly. As he finished his less than confident statement, a large screen displaying various statistics, numbers and an image of the Southern Cross popped up, along with multiple holographic buttons and handles. Ignoring the warning about the engines being offline, as it was the 253rd warning he’d heard in the last hour, Matt began inputting orders and maneuvering the ship into one of history's most well known crash landings.

The night was still and all was tranquil. The moon shined over the sleepy country of Equestria. From the quiet hamlet of Ponyville, to the Opulent streets of Canterlot, to the dusty, weary plains of Appleloosa and the Illuminated port city of Manehatten, all was enveloped in quiet night. Those who were still awake throughout the nation, admiring the billions of glittering, silver stars, remember seeing a star that shined brighter than the rest. It was a radiant, almost golden, yellow and twinkled twice as bright as any other star. Those who saw it were transfixed by it’s beauty. But, as the ‘star’ came closer and closer, the Ponies and many other races saw what it truly was. A colossal vessel, easily hundreds, if not thousands, the size of a generic Equestrian warship. Those stargazers watched in awe as it neared their planet, watching it blot out the stars as it closed in on the planet. Many screamed in terror, fearing it would smash into their nation and wipe them all out in a fiery display of cosmic power. Instead, as it broke the atmosphere and was engulfed in flames, they watched it gracefully swerve and soar over Equestria. Almost everyone in the nation was awake to watch the underside of the ship fly over their homes and country, seeing the thousands of glowing blue lights, canons of unknown material and the sight of a gargantuan black raven with a white sword and scroll held within its feet painted in front of a giant royal blue kite shield shield.

The ship was intimidating in its design. It had two massive holes on the back of the bulk of the ship, and two smaller, yet equally tall, parts of the ship attached to the sides with multiple smaller holes. The ship's front had various canons and weapons pointing out of it, the biggest being a massive, dazzling, barrel with dull blue lights around the rim. The top of the ship slowly declined as it neared the front, where it ended at a small, heavily armoured room with a massive window allowing anything within to see outside. The sides of the ship were littered with windows, holes with smaller vessels inside them and a giant section of the ship covered by metal plates. As the monstrous, metal vessel soared through the sky, roaring loudly as it broke the sound barrier, it steadied out and flew off into the horizon. Unseen by many Equestrians below, it would violently crash land deep within the expansive and primordial Everfree Forest, on the other side near the Changeling owned mountains, often also inhabited by dragons and other races. Although few saw it land, all heard it’s thunderous crash as it impacted with the ground, violently shaking and upsetting the forest and far off cities. As the obsidian black smoke ascended from the crash site, many knew something never before witnessed had just occurred. Something that would change the fate of the ancient planet, and it’s peaceful inhabitants, forever…

“Ah, another happy landing…” The captain declared as he sank into his plush chair and sighed deeply.

“I’m fucking invincible!” Cheered the governor as he shakingly rose from his chair and ran up the stairs, sidestepping the various items that had been thrown around mid crash, personal items like pictures, plants or cute holographic displays of cats.

“Christ, I never wanna do that again…” The medic dizzyingly mumbled as he picked himself off the floor, his seat getting thrown around by the hard impact.

“This is your Captain speaking, we’re now planetside, the H.U.A threat has been dealt with and our engines are still offline. All clear folks you can unbuckle your seats and change your pants. Thank you for flying Air Cross, we know you didn’t have a choice but I wanna thank you anyway. Will all high ranking Officers, Head Researcher DAYNE, Head Engineer MAG, Lord Governor Patrick Woolsworth and any Royal Guards stationed aboard gathered in the War Room. Thank you…” The Captain requested into the small, extendable microphone attached to his chairs left armrest, his voice echoing through the still empty halls of the Southern Cross, before getting up and walking away, leaving someone else to clean up the mess in the Bridge.

“Looks like this mission just got a whole lot more complicated.” He said to himself as he adjusted his suit.

Chapter 2: Starting from the bottom. (edited by Anon ymous and Magnificent Toaster)

Chapter two: Starting from the bottom.

Everyone gathered in the war room felt the tension hanging in the air; it was so thick that not even a royal guard’s plasma lance could have pierced it. The paneled walls displaying various maps and schematics were lined with grim-faced officers, all of whom were unsure of what they were even supposed to be doing in such a situation. The immediate surrounding area was crowded by a small group of people; the circular map in the center projecting a three dimensional hologram of the marooned warship-turned-colonial-vessel.

“So, can someone-anyone! Please tell me how no one here noticed a boarding party of H.U.A. terrorists? Or why we weren’t able to repair the engines before we crash landed? Anyone?” Matt asked this with an abnormally serious tone, rubbing his temples and resting his elbows on the reinforced glass table. “Because if you can’t tell me then gods help all of you when the empress wants to know…”

From left to right stood Lord Governor Woolsworth, still wearing his stolen jumpsuit and looking out of place amongst the seasoned warriors; his body guard Hildegarde Adoniram, a once esteemed officer turned a noble’s right hand woman; Head of Research DAYNE and Director of Engineering MAG, the former staring at the ground in shame and the latter apathetically watching the captain speak; Shock Trooper Daniel Greyson, the new commanding officer of the Red Suns; and lastly, right next to the captain and recording the emergency meeting was Diane Mcalder, the ship's Second highest ranking officer and Matthew’s glorified assistant. Everyone at the round table either looked seemingly uninterested or furious in the case of Dan, Diane and Matt.

“Sir, with all due respect, they attacked swiftly and with surgical precision; it’s a miracle we only lost two of our own soldiers in the resulting chaos.” Dan spoke up, his level tone hiding the hate inside.

“We shouldn’t have lost anyone, Greyson; that’s the point I’m trying to make! We have dozens, if not hundreds of counter terrorist and cyber warfare operatives working day and night to prevent fuck ups like this and what happened? We got shot out of the sky and grounded on this rock!” The captain shouted, shocking everyone in the room at his sudden explosion.

“Captain, although we’re in a shit position we did come here to colonize a planet, right? Well, we have the supplies and ammunition to hold this location ‘till some jackass comes for us and it’s not like the reactor’s gonna crap itself like the engines. So why are we still here?” Patrick asked, MAG and Greyson nodding while everyone else either looked at the two nobles expectantly or kept their opinions to themselves.

“The reason we’re still here, Lord Governor.” Matt spat out venomously, causing Patrick to give him a smouldering look and Hilda to grimace slightly. “Is that we’re situationally blind. The planet may look habitable, but so did Ferrusola and look what happened to them!” He shouted, gesturing to the Hybrid crew member to his right, causing Diane to roll her dark brown eyes. “If we start setting up the colony who knows what could hit us while our guard is lowered: plagues, hostile natives, sudden drastic changes in weather, the list goes on! I’m not saying we should stay indoors and eat canned beans, M.R.E.s, and sing show tunes ‘till the cavalry comes, but if we send the colonists out there without anyone knowing what to expect we could be sending them on a death march. Normally we’d launch a few probes in all directions and assess the situation with ease; but our relays were knocked out of alignment and in order to fix it we need to know if we can even step foot outside.” He finished, calming down halfway through his explanation.

“What do you propose we do instead? Sit on the bridge and do nothing for a month? I may be a machine but I have better things to do than spend every operating hour twiddling my claws and hitting the engine with a hammer hoping it spontaneously works again.” MAG grumbled with an almost annoyed tone, as if being in the room with everyone was a chore.

“If I may, Sir. Why not send out all willing nonhuman personel with survival experience?” DAYNE suggested, taking its mechanical eyes off of the blue glass table.

“There aren't that many Machina or Hybrids onboard; if we send out all our combat proficient operatives we may lose them.” Diane cautioned, her smooth and clear voice louder than the murmurs of the assorted officers and guards in the background.

“Captain, my platoon is willing and able to perform reconnaissance and scout out the surrounding areas.” Greyson volunteered, suddenly standing a little straighter.

“Not gonna’ happen; even with your team's armour and weapons. I don’t want any humans walking into the nearby woodlands or mountains. It’s one thing if a Hybrid trips and breaks their helmet, but if you were to suffer a direct hit from something to your helmet’s filtration system then the air could kill you in seconds.” Matt stated, shooting down the idea.

“...I have an idea.” Hilda declared, her brash voice breaking the rooms contemplative silence.

“Shoot.” Matt replied, a neutral look on his face.

“What if the Machina and Hybrid ground forces were to scout out the surrounding areas while Greyson and his team offered air support on standby? In the case of the ground team needing an immediate extraction if the situation becomes dire, that is.” She intoned, her plan quite sound.

“Yes, that most definately sounds do-able. Although I don’t like the idea of risking all our expendable crew members on a single operation that could go south the minute we open a door, we can’t sit here and talk all day… Greyson, get your team together; you’re moving out at dawn.” Matt ordered, nodding at Greyson as he saluted and left to prepare the air team.

“Okay, now that that’s taken care of we need to talk about-” Diane was interrupted as Chris burst into the room, panting like a dog and sweating like he’d ran a mile. The guards stationed at the door were about to yell at him and possibly force him to leave, but were stopped when the man started speaking.

“S-Sir! Two… Two unidentified Humans have been found and apprehended in the lower storage sector, one of them’s a massive augmented Human and-and the other one doesn't even speak English or look like he’s from the same time period as us. God fucking damn it…” Chris sighed out in between deep and heavy breaths. As soon as he’d begun talking DAYNE had gone to the cooler built into the black titanium wall, retrieved a cup of chilled water, approached Chris, and offered him the drink.

“Calm down soldier. Now tell me, what did the non-English speaking one look like? It’s quite important, you see… Did he have a leopard?” DAYNE asked, both worried for the fatigued medic and unknown persons.

“T-thank you, Sir… Yes, he had a leop-”

“Oh, no! He got out!” DAYNE cried as he pushed past Chris and sprinted out of the room, moving as fast as his aging robotic legs would allow him.

“I’d better go after him, if I let DAYNE go unsupervised he’ll break his legs again. Sorry, Captain; I have other, more important matters to attend to.” MAG apologised, not really being sorry at all as he left the room of dumbstruck and confused people.

“Oh, shit...” Pat muttered under his breath.

“Chris… I’m going to ask you very nicely… What. The fuck. Happened. Now?” Matt managed to question through his grinding teeth. Stress-induced agitation forced him to cover his face with his hands, the gentle glow of his eyes escaping through the gaps in between his fingers.

“W-we don’t know, Sir. The only people who were down there recently were H.U.A. assassins and Lord-”

“What the fuck did you do, Patrick?!” Matt finally snapped, his golden eyes radiating an intense light as he gave the portly man a look that could kill.

“Hey, it’s not my fault some crazies snuck on board! I’m innocent! Innocent, I tells ya!” Pat rambled out as he backed up, Hilda stepping in front of the scared governor to intervene.

“Matt, we both know he’s innocent until proven guilty. If you attack him you’re the only one in the wrong here.” The tall, pale woman defended, giving the captain a level stare.

Matt was still giving Pat a murderous glare before he finally turned to the woman next to him. “Diane, go over the security footage of the lower storage sector and track Patrick’s movements.” He ordered, breathing heavily through his nose as he stepped away from the only person in the room who Matt saw as an actual threat.

“Affirmative, Sir…” The armour clad woman replied, quickly accessing the ship-wide security network via her massive PDA, easily double the size of the captain’s.

It took a minute or so but she finally found the footage of Pat running away from assassins. They fast-forwarded past him getting changed and they stopped on the exact scene they were looking for. Everyone present saw how Pat tripped over the large body of a Transhumanist and accidentally started the thawing process on the Chinese soldier frozen in ice. She fast forwarded again, to a few minutes before the ship broke atmosphere and watched the unconscious man wake up and flee right before the Asian man was starting to warm up. leaning over Diane’s purple-clad shoulder to pause the video, Matt breathed heavily and began to slowly turn around and look at Pat with a pair of soulless, burning, golden eyes.

“You have three seconds- three seconds, to explain to me why you didn’t tell anyone about your mistake.” Matt calmly demanded, far past the point of anger so that he’d reached an almost zen-like state of blood lust.

“...I was worried people would laugh at me and call me a loser?” Pat meekly answered. Matt slowly inhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose for what seemed like an eternity… before finally jumping at Pat.

“WORRIED?! OH, YOU’LL BE MORE THAN WORRIED WHEN I’M THROUGH WITH YOU! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA ALL THE AMOUNT OF RED TAPE I WILL HAVE TO GO THROUGH WHEN WE GET BACK TO THE ARMADA JUST FOR LANDING ON THIS PLANET ALONE?! AND NOW I’M FINDING OUT YOU FUCKED WITH EXPERIMENTAL TECHNOLOGY AND UNLEASHED SOME GODDAMN ANCIENT MAN ONTO MY SHIP?! I’LL BREAK YOUR FUCKING KNEE CAPS!” Matt screamed furiously with the passion of a burning sun. The only thing stopping him from physically assaulting the lord governor being Hilda, who was doing everything in her power to stop the smaller, weaker yet psionically powerful, man from tearing apart her employer.

“Matthew, calm down! He’s done nothing wrong!” She defended, only further enraging him.

“DONE NOTHING WRONG?! DID WE WATCH THE SAME FOOTAGE? THE FOOTAGE THAT CLEARLY SHOWS THIS POMPOUS ASSHAT MAKING MY DAY EVEN MORE OF A LIVING HELL?! I HAVE TO DO SO MUCH LEGAL SHIT JUST SO I DON’T LOSE MY SHIP AND HOME AND NOW I’M FINDING OUT I HAVE TO TELL THE IMPERIAL COURT WHY SOME ANCIENT GUY WAS LET LOOSE ON MY SHIP WITHOUT EVEN CHECKING TO SEE IF HE WASN’T CARRYING SOME ANCIENT DISEASE THAT COULD WIPE OUT THE CREW?!” He continued to scream, his attempts to telekinetically hurl chairs and lights at Pat, who was now standing behind two nervous guardsmen, being stopped by Hilda slapping him right across the mouth; snapping back into reality Matt looked up at the livid girl.

“I said, CALM DOWN! Look, this day has been more than stressful for everyone, you included. People died, we’re stuck here, we don’t even know where here is and to top it off the H.U.A. just tried to assassinate most of the people in this room. We’ve all had a shit day and we’re all feeling the pressure, but murdering another Noble and winding up with the death sentence won’t make all this go away. So, stop trying to murder my boss, calm the fuck down and start thinking clearly.” She sympathetically requested while Matt slowly cooled down, his eyes and skin slowly going back to their natural slight glow instead of their boiling bright shade.

“Well, we’re off to a rollickingly good start.” Governor Woolsworth said sarcastically, stepping out from behind the two guards in front of him.

“Don’t think this is over, Pat, I’m not doing the paperwork explaining the unauthorized release of an ancient Human. That’s your problem now.” Matt threatened, Pat’s crippling fear of paperwork cutting deep.

“Well, now that has been dealt with, can we please get back to the meeting?” Diane asked, irritated at all the sudden distractions.

“Absolutely!” Pat shouted, eager to distract the usually chill captain from his violent thoughts.

“Alright...Now, since servicemen Jacobs Summer and Unit CHARON were killed and destroyed in the ship wide battle against the H.U.A. an impromptu funeral and announcement about the current events is being held in the Barracks in a few hours. Normally, we wouldn’t dream of mixing these two together, but with the predicaments we face we need the crew aware and running at full capacity sooner rather than later.” Diane rather coldly explained while Matt sighed deeply, Pat rested his head on the holo-table and Hilda sat intently.

“Now, Mr. Wayton was it?” The integrator questioned from the other side of the see-through window, mirroring the intimidating giant in the sealed off room.

“It’s Wystan actually; Adam Wystand. Don’t worry everyone gets it wrong the first time.” The scarred Cyborg replied, his oddly serene and pleasant voice conflicting with his scarred, partially naked body. After finding him unconscious in an elevator shortly after crash landing, they’d stripped him of his armour and weapons and placed him in his newly appointed cell. The man who towered over everyone at 6’8 feet, weighed enough to bend the hilariously disproportionate chair he was sitting on and had more scars covering his body than a stabbing victim was calmly sitting in front of the table he was handcuffed to, holding his hands together and humming a little tune under his breath with an eerie smile.

“My apologies. Now, Mr. Wystan. Why did you sneak aboard a colonial ship?” The expressionless, bald Officer continued; his simple camo fatigues and brown plated armour still in place and shining as much as his large, polished sidearm.

“I was hired to.” The mysterious man confessed, rolling his shoulders and trying to scratch an itch on his chest, under the simple white singlet given to him when he woke up along with the grey sweat pants he was also wearing.

“Who hired you and why?”

“I’m not at liberty to say who hired me, but they misled me on my mission parameters. The individual who had need of my services ordered me to board the H.D.C.S Southern Cross and assassinate a variety of targets aboard this ship. The contractor paid handsomely, I thought the deal was too good to be true.” He informed, his face holding no hint of a lie. Aside from the start and the end of the sentence where he broke eye contact with his jailor, his cyan eyes were always pointed forward and followed his captor.

“Why aren’t you allowed to say who hired you? You’re not exactly in a position to withhold information; and who did this individual want and why?” The guard asked, noting everything down in his PDA.

“Truthfully, I don’t know who hired me. Contacts receiving contracts from contacts you see, all rather cloak and dagger. My client wanted multiple high ranking personnel dead along with a medley of civilians for a variety of reasons. However, as I said before I was mislead. I was told my targets were ruthless killers, liars, slavers, drug dealers and other worthless pieces of Human filth posing as innocents or using their position to evade persecution.” The odd man clarified, still sounding cheerful.

“And you believed these accusations? Sir, we don’t employ criminals or even allow them aboard military vessels.” His integrator defended with an almost hurt tone; in response, Adam cackled like it was the funniest cruel joke he’d ever heard.

“Oh trust me, you people do have more than a few degenerates working for your precious Empress; they just go unheard of or their deaths are called accidents. I mean, the Imperial Court can’t let the universe know which noble was a murderer or if one of the Empress’ cousins is a rapist, that’d tarnish their flawless image!” He plainly stated. His voice was level and calm but something about the way he worded it made it all seem more dark and sinister.

“Sir, insulting the royal family or nobility is an offense under the-”

“-Act of 2797, yes, yes I know; but stating facts about them isn’t.” He interrupted, his innocent attitude and manner of speaking quickly irking and creeping the guard.

“Mr Wystan, you’re being accused of attempted assassination, conspiracy to murder a noble, infiltrating a military vessel, entering a restricted area, possession of unauthorized weapons and attempted terrorism...If you give me something to work with here we can cut you some slack and possibly get you a shortened jail sentence.” The man offered to Adam, causing Adam to laugh yet again.

“My good Sir, if you check my permits, records, licences and eye witness accounts you’ll find I’ve done none of those things. I may have taken the money, but I never agreed to it; if I’ve learned one thing in life it’s that you should always know who your enemies are before you act and my enemies aren’t onboard this ship. Styx, when I learnt just how badly I’d read the signs I destroyed the money; I wasn’t about to keep blood money and I wasn’t going to give those demons theirs back.” He justified with an even bigger grin, acting like he wasn’t in serious trouble.

“Mr Wystan, many already have written you off as an assassin; I doubt you’ll be found innocent when this reaches the Imperial Court.” Adam’s captor said, a doubtful tone laced in his words.

“An assassin am I? I’ve killed no one, I own my firearms legally, they weren’t loaded and there’s no law against me wearing my armour if I possess my permits...I’m innocent.” Adam countered, still staring forward, unblinking, with an unnerving smile.

“We’re done here. I’ll be back later.” The guard announced as he slowly rose from his uncomfortable chair, turned the viewing window opaque, walked out of the heavily monitored observation room and out into the ship’s brig. The hallway, though poorly lit and in need of cleaning, was heavily protected by multiple hidden turrets designed to stun, incapacitate or kill rioting prisoners. The ship's brig was small, only being able to house 50 inmates at a time, but it was on par with a maximum security facility. Guards at every corner, doors made of plasma resistant materials, the floors and walls both unbreakable and cells that can be vented into the cold vacuum of space at the push of a button. It’d take a madman to try and break out; unfortunately the ship’s only non-H.U.A. inmate was crazy enough to start scheming his breakout.

“Someone thought it’d be a good idea to set me up...Heh, they never learn…”Adam Wystan said to himself before cackling like a madman.

“DAYNE, why the Styx did you think this would be a good idea? The chink doesn't even speak English.” MAG asked from the roof, its magnets humming softly to keep it in place while DAYNE was banging its head against the wall. They’d both been there for hours now while the Chinese man screamed incoherent gibberish at them.

“I was assuming we would have stored a few universal translators…” DAYNE mumbled, its voice muffled slightly. Much to DAYNE’s dismay he’d found out that along with a few other non-crucial supplies, the H.U.A. forces had destroyed the ship’s supply of translators for no other reason than to cause problems. Now they had an irritated, frightened human handcuffed to a chair with no way of talking to them.

“I knew I should have downloaded that Mandarin program...MAG, thoughts?” DAYNE asked as it turned around to look at MAG who was busy replacing the room's lights.

“Unless you want to play charades with him, I’d say go repair a translator.” MAG suggested, ignoring the man yelling at the spider-like machine.

“We don’t have time for that! I have so many questions for him, and I need to make sure his mental faculties are in order; the resurrection project may have been a success but I’ll be the newest laughing stock of the R&D fleet if it makes people mentally handicapped!” DAYNE protested, flinging its arms in the air for emphasis.

“Well...What about Smurf?” MAG asked, causing DAYNE to look at MAG like it was malfunctioning.

“MAG, are you high again? We both know there’s no serviceman named ‘Smurf’ on the Southern Cross.” DAYNE asked with a disappointed tone while MAG audibly sighed.

“First off, mind your own business; if I take Overclock to get through the day then that’s my problem. Second wiseass, Smurf is just his nickname; his real name is Boris Daniel.” MAG shot back, securing the lights in place with the aid of its tools while the Chinese man stared at him, bewildered.

“Boris Daniel?...Oh yes, Борис Даниил! Thank you MAG, I’ll find him right away!” DAYNE declared, ecstatic that he could still talk to the new addition to the ship’s crew.

“So it dosen’t know who Smurf is but it can say the bastard’s name in Russian? Robro needs to get out more often…” MAG said to himself before looking at the still handcuffed man.

“Hey asshole, say something funny.” MAG insulted, causing the man to respond in a confused tone.

“Yeah that’s what I thought…” MAG said as he walked down to the floor, sat in the corner and powered down to reserve power and cool down, waiting for DAYNE to come back.

The Civilian Sector was a mess. It was the first place the H.U.A. forces targeted and although the colonists were able to flee to safety before they’d injured anyone, the H.U.A. soldiers were more than happy to destroy the place. Many of the temporary rooms and residential spaces had been fire bombed or trashed beyond a simple clean up. Stores and stalls alike had been demolished, spilling various wares across the well traveled halls; said halls were cast in shadows as the vandals had smashed almost all of the light fixtures they’d stumbled across. In a few hours, the once temporarily abandoned residential and commercial area had been reduced to something more akin to a war torn street. If the destroyed houses barely big enough to fit a family and damaged storefronts weren’t a bleak enough sight then the plethora of bullet, plasma, laser and melter holes in the blood stained metal walls made the whole scene seem even more depressing and dark. Although none of this mattered to Smurf who strutted past the temporary shelters and triage centre set up in the middle of the market. From the top floor of the market, Smurf peered over the side of the railed off ledge; he couldn’t help but stand in awe at the damage sustained.

“Those fuckers shot up my favorite pub!” He cursed loudly in Russian, causing many of the civilians to stare at him.

“Man, if I get my hands on those shitheads I’ll ring their necks like I did dmitry’s chickens.” He declared with a vengeance while rifling for something in his dark blue tracksuits pockets.

“Ah fuck it, at least my place didn’t get bombed.” He said morosely, popping a bunch of cooked sunflower seeds in his mouth. As he swaggered home many people stopped to stare at him, his blue tracksuit, counterfeit sneakers, pocket full of seeds, bottle of beer in his right hand, scruffy blonde hair and thoughtful look on his angular, white face made him stand out from the grief stricken crowd.

As he walked around the corner to his assigned quarters, he saw the annoying Machina simply called DAYNE a few dozen feet behind him.

“The fuck?” He questioned as he pulled out his ID card and swiped it across the sealed door.

“Wait! Boris!” The droid shouted as it side stepped bystanders, its robe fluttering slightly as it ran.

“I will glass you DAYNE, stop pissing me off.” Boris threatened as he stepped inside his beer bottle, can and gun filled hovel.

“But I haven’t done anything!” DAYNE protested as it stopped in the door frame.

“I know, but you fucking suck. What’d you want tin man?” The agitated Russian asked, opening the door on his stained refrigerator and pulled out a large, green beer bottle.

“Well, I was wondering If I could perhaps borrow one of your translators?” DAYNE requested as he stepped over a small pile of empty cans that stinked of meat.

“No, the last time you took something of mine I got it back in pieces.” Smurf reminded as he walked over to his old, torn couch and squatted on top of it, taking a deep swig of his drink.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t ask a Hybrid that kind of question! Look Boris, I’m deeply sorry but I need a translator; it’s vital to the safety of the ship and her crew!” DAYNE dramatically pleaded as Smurf raised an eyebrow.

“Just like how asking a Hybrid how it bangs was a matter of-”

“I told you I didn’t know that’d set her off!...Sorry Boris, it’s been a very stressful day.” DAYNE apologised after its miniature explosion.

“Night. It’s been a stressful night, DAYNE.” The Russian guy corrected, a smirk on his sunken face. As he turned around to walk over to his holo-computer, DAYNE had a miniature meltdown inside its circuit mind.

“Boris...Just give me a translator, please.” DAYNE requested with a defeated sigh as it collapsed into Smurf’s stained sofa which creaked loudly under the metal frame.

“If you break my fucking couch I’ll sell you for scrap metal. I’ll give you one if you do four things for me.” Smurf said, either agreeing to DAYNE’s demand so he could get something out of it or simply so it would leave.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much trouble you’re saving me Boris; what do you want me to do?” DAYNE asked after jumping for joy, his robotic feet creaking quietly.

“One, stop calling me Boris; my family calls me Boris and you're no cousin of mine. Two, get me a case of Quasar Gold vodka; not the cheap kind either. Three, get MAG to fix my fucking lights already; I’ve been living by the light of my damn computer display for two fucking weeks! And lastly, get me some Overclock: MAG tells me it really messes you up.” Smurf ordered as he opened up an emulator on his 35th century computer to play a game from the 20th century.

“Um, Bor-I mean Smurf, you do know that Overclock is for Machina right? I don’t think a Human mind can handle it.” DAYNE reminded, pausing itself midway through creating a small list in his mind.

“Meh, I ain’t worried. They said I couldn’t snort grounded up Colozium but I did it anyway and I’m still kicking.” Smurf remembered fondly, waving off DAYNE’s concerns.

“No, they said you shouldn’t snort Colozium because you suffered massive blood loss and grew a third arm as a result. And where exactly will I find a vendor selling expensive alcoholic beverages during a crisis?” DAYNE questioned, confused as to how Smurf thought any of this would be accomplished soon.

“You’ve got a super computer for a brain, you figure it out. Now piss off; I’ve got terrorists to kill.” Smurf demanded as he chucked a translator towards DAYNE. DAYNE managed to catch it just in time. The translator was an old model but it would work fine since it was at least compatible with DAYNE’s hardware and software.

“Thank you Smurf, I’ll bring this back once our newest crew member learns English!” DAYNE exclaimed happily as he ran out of the dank room. Smurf merely shrugged and loaded up his ancient copy of Counter Strike.

“Cyka блять.” Smurf muttered under his breath.

“Daniel, if you don’t start taking better care of your augments I will remove them while you're sleeping just to teach you a lesson.” Vanessa berated as she examined the half naked shock trooper. The onboard medical centers were a mess dealing with the wounded soldiers, but Vanessa knew the triage center would be where she was needed most. Dan merely sighed in response while the seasoned doctor examined his minor wounds and the slight damage to his arm.

“For the tenth time Doctor Munov, I’m fine; this is nothing a quick dose of stimulants won’t fix.” Her patient responded, grimacing slightly as she began repairing the cauterized wound on his right arm.

“A stimulant won’t fix a plasma round wound. You were going out into the field like this? Who would you help in your current state?” The doctor asked rhetorically. Her pristine lab coat was stained slightly from a few bleeding wounds, her black slacks looked dirty and her navy shirt, which hugged her ample breasts, was crinkled slightly and looked like she’d put it on in a hurry; still, she radiated an air of professionalism and refused to show even the hint of fatigue. Despite serving on a warship, she’d never seen combat or gone through basic training and her skinny form reflected this. Her calm and calculated expression looked right at home on her beautiful face; like all nobles, regardless of stature, she was gifted with amazing genetics and flawless features. Her light brown hair was held up by a tungsten band and her navy eyes were obscured by a simple looking pair of black steel glasses. Looking away from the man’s athletic frame, she pulled a large needle out of her lab coats pocket and tested the needle’s tip.

“This is going to hurt Daniel, but not as much as that plasma round did.” She announced as Dan prepared himself. As the needle pierced the burned skin, the liquid inside and an almost immediate reaction.

“Gah! What the hell is this?!” Commander Greyson cried out loudly as he clenched his muscles and tried to ignore the searing pain.

“A recently developed healing agent designed to counteract the effects of plasma exposure. It will take a day or two to finalize the healing process but you should notice a rapid decrease in inflammation, the skin to begin healing itself and blood flow return to normal. For a shock trooper, I’m amazed you’ve only lost a single arm in the line of duty.” Vanessa stated as she rose from her simple black chair and looked around the hastily set up operation room. The triage center was full of injured civilians, a few soldiers and more than one Machina hoping to help out. It was uncommon for a warship to have such high numbers of colonists and the medical centers were already swarmed by officers and soldiers.

“I guess I’m just lucky.” Dan rebutted as he experimentally tested his healing arm. his right arm still stung from the various plasma wounds, but it was almost like nothing had happened to it. “What about the left one?” He asked as he moved his cybernetic arm; it wasn’t broken but something felt odd.

“A servo was damaged during the crash landing. It’s minor and only affects the little finger but you should let one of the Machina examine it; they know more about the intricate details then me.” The doctor responded as she removed her latex medical gloves and touched the sides of her glasses.

“Thank you Doctor, what would I do without you?” Daniel thanked with a small smile as he began putting his armour back on.

“Probably the same thing, but with more holes and scars. Get a move on Daniel, or you’ll be late to your own mission.” Vanessa replied. “Send in the next soldier please, I’ve much work to do.” She requested as Dan left the small room. Knowing she’d have very little time, she sighed deeply and took a long sip from a cup of black coffee on top of a small, tool covered table. Shortly after she’d put her cup down and rubbed the sleep out of her navy eyes, a second man walked in. He looked fairly normal as far as crew members go. He had dark ebony skin, short black hair and a muscular build. The only things that seemed out of place on his tall body were his infernal red eyes and the odd, mechanical pack on his back.

“Heya doc. Johnatnan Xexes requesting a standard checkup.” The impressive man greeted with a smile.

“Very well; remove your armour and take a seat, this shouldn’t take long.” She instructed as she began going over his medical records through the use of her glasses holographic lenses. He did as he was told and was soon only wearing his boxers and singlet, his white and blue armour now lying in a small, neat pile in the corner of the room.

“hmmm...blood pressure seems normal...No obvious signs of damage or injury...Where were you stationed during the attack?” Vanessa asked as she began her examination.

“Oh, the engine room ma’am.” He replied, holding back a reflex as he felt the cold metal of her stethoscope on his chiseled chest.

“The engine room? Most of the patients coming in from there suffered the worst injuries. How did you come out unscatched?” She asked as she jotted down a series of notes on her PDA.

“My power armour was pretty damn handy.” He answered with a small chuckle.

“I see, yes that would make sense; soldiers trained to use power armour usually are stronger than the average guardsman…” Vanessa mumbled under her breath.

“So...Am I healthy?” He asked after a few minutes of testing.

“Yes, for a 21 year old male from Styx you’re exceptionally fit and ready for deployment.” Venessa informed with a smile.

“Wait, you know I’m from Styx?” John asked with a surprised expression.

“It’s all in your medical records. It doesn't matter how well hidden or blacked out your record is, the medical fleet will find out as much as they legally can.” She replied with a smile as she taped her glasses.

“Well, is there anything else I need to do, or?” He asked, nudging his head towards the door.

“No. You can leave whenever you want, just let the next patient in after you. Thank you.” The doctor requested as she lowered her PDA and opened a metallic bottle of water left on the small table next to the pristine, white bed everyone had been resting on.

“Thanks doc. See ya around.” Jonathan said with a small wave goodbye. As he left the room, venessa threw a few colourless pills in her mouth and swallowed them with the aid of some crystal clear water. She sputtered for a bit but then breathed deeply, the signs of exhaustion on her immaculate face fading away.

“It’s only been a measly 26 hours since I’ve gotten any sleep, I think I’ve got another 30 in me if I can stomach these pills.” Vanessa joked with a slight chuckle as she tried to suppress a yawn. She’d been awake for a very, very long time compared to her usual work shifts; but with the H.U.A. assault, and then the crash landing, leaving many injured she knew she’d have to pull her weight just like everyone else.

“And to think, I could be fat and lazy like the rest of my family if I’d stayed at the Armada...Forget them, this is much more rewarding then all the chocolate liqueurs and bottles of wine in the Universe...Who am I talking to? Styx, I need to get some sleep.” Vanessa muttered to herself as she grabbed her cup of coffee and waited for the next patient.

As the Captain stepped down from the small stage at the back of the cafeteria, the room was filled with quiet applause. The room smelt heavily of beer, smoke and cooked meat. Three quarters of the large, spacious hall was filled by rambunctious soldiers who’re off duty and enjoying their meal or simply there to hear what the captain had to say. The air was filled with the sound of laughter, singing and the quiet whispers of anti-Ascended soldiers or Machina haters. The blueish grey room was filled with tables, a bar on the left side of the room, the kitchen at the front, entrance at the back and to the right were the various booths and tables sat next to reinforced glass windows. Normally, these windows would show the dining crew the wonders of the cosmos, an endless amount of stars and colourful displays of galactic power; but now, all it showed was a dark, ancient forest bathed in darkness below with the stars shining far above. At one of these booths sat two of the tired, stressed and drained crew.

“I can’t believe Jacobs is dead...That man sure knew how to party.” Sam said to her drinking buddy, John, as she stared at her steel mug of cider.

“Yeah, engineers always seem to know who has a supply of what...You going to the funeral?” John asked as he took a large drink from his glass of whiskey.

“Can’t, Greyson came up to me and told me we’re flying out in about two hours; Styx of a time to go out on a recon mission huh?” Sam bitterly joked as she shook her scarred head.

“I think Jacobs would understand, he always knew the ship came first; he was weirdly patriotic like that.” Her friend reminded with a nostalgic smile.

“Yeah...A toast to the funniest grease monkey whoever lived! Wherever he is now, it just got a whole lot happier.” Sam cried as she raised a mug and took a huge gulp, many of the nearby tables occupants mirroring her actions.

“Aw shit, my drinks empty. Want me to get you a refill?” John asked as he rose from his seat at the booth and went to grab her mug.

“Yeah sure.” Sam replied, her velvety voice more than a little slurred. As one of the last friends she had got up and walked away, Sam tore her bronze eyes off him and looked out the window. The forest outside went on for miles, far off into the horizon, and the thick trees and bushes helped shelter the multiple animals hidden within from the ship’s external lights. Mountains surrounded the wild forest, the spires of stone piercing the fluffy clouds above and shielding the ship from the moon’s silver rays of light. As she stopped taking in the new lands below her focus turned to her own reflection.

She was a boisterous women who knew how to have fun, and her burnt face always looked happy and full of life; though now it held a more somber and thoughtful gaze. From her cherry lips sat a small, brown cigar; the embers from the end illuminating her gorgeous face. The only oddity on her small face was the large, red burn on the right side of her face. It began just after next to her eye and went all the way up the side of her nearly flawless face. Her right ear was also damaged, a few parts it were chipped off, but no one could see it underneath her ridiculously long, sandy blonde hair. Despite being held back in a ponytail, it was still long enough to reach her back and she still had a fringe long enough to cover her eyebrows. Her slender body was hidden beneath a blue dress uniform. She wore a large blue blouse with silver buttons, a white singlet underneath, a blue skirt and black leggings to cover her legs and a large, grey admirals jacket with silver and gold emblems on the shoulders and two royal blue stripes on the collar; she usually had it resting on her shoulders and back instead of wearing it though. No one would mistake it for a modern R.A.D.C Admiral’s jacket as it wasn’t nearly regal or protective enough, but it clearly held some importance to her. The only injury that could be seen were the slight burn marks on her collar and around her large bust.

If it weren’t for all the stress, confusion and misery of the various recent tragedies she’d probably be drinking the night away with her friends and occasional passengers.

“Hey, you wanted Crimson cider, right?” John asked as he took his seat and passed her his drink, his heavily armoured, two toned uniform causing his seat to groan slightly. He wore the standard ensemble for a heavy assault trooper: power armour.

Unlike the reasonably flexible, light, yet protective armour of a shock trooper or the versatile protection for a standard soldier his was made to withstand almost everything. His metal chest plates were layered on top of each other and moved in sync with his muscles. On the various layers was the R.A.D.C coat of arms painted white, contrasting with the obsidian coloured metal. His shoulder pads were more like bulky pauldrons but still light enough to not restrict the movement of the impressive man; the armour covering his arms and legs were designed similarly. Around his waist were various pouches full of ammo, grenades and other ordinances built to deal significant damage. His feet were entombed in large, bone crushing boots with small thrusters built into the soles of the armoured shoes. On his left shoulder rested a modified melter rifle. The heavy gun was built without a stock, scope or trigger as it wasn’t meant to be fired by a person; instead the user activates it through the suits connection to the user’s augmentations. It was a long, grey barrel with multiple holes in the side to vent it and fired massive, armour punching, plasma shrouded rounds designed to dismember and incinerate foot soldiers and decimate light armoured vehicles. into the weapons receiver a belt of blue shells were feed, the ammo stored inside the left arm of the suit. On his right shoulder he stored a second belt and over his heart he’d placed a pouch for a deck of poker cards. His neck was surrounded by raised, modified metal armour which, when the helmet was snapped in place, made it impossible to injury the user’s head or neck. The neck guard had a small line of white fur that only served to add to the suits amazing design and to help identify John in the field.

         The only thing that wasn’t on him was his armour helmet; said helmet was resting next to him in the booth. The helmet, unlike most of the standard issue R.A.D.C headgear, was encapsulating. When the wearer placed the helmet on, the front of it would lower down and ease into position; it acted as a rebreather and a layered helmet making it impossible to gas him out. Although the user can’t see out of the helmet, a relatively new H.U.D display inside the padded helm connects to a series of external cameras that feed a live, uninterrupted and lag free feed. Above the cameras on the sides of the gear were multiple torches that made it possible to see in any environment. The front of the curved helmet, near the mouth of the user, had a plethora of sensors built in that enabled the user to see heat signatures, radiation levels, Ascended power levels and, if the lights fail, utilize night vision. John had painted a series of claw scratches on the right side of his face in blood red paint.

The last noticeable feature of the suit was the generator and pack located on the upper back of the armour. When not in use the armour slid inside the pack and let the user carry it around or store it away, but when in use it activated as the suits power source and exit. The suit slid open from the back and allows the user to step in and out of it like a jumpsuit. These suits, though more than daunting in combat, are seen as inefficient. They weigh a ton, require highly trained operatives, tend to overheat when overworked, can trap the user if it suffers heavy damage to the generator and make it hard for anyone to perform an operation stealthily; but when it comes to firefights and open warfare, a team of heavy assault infantry can tip the scales of battle.

“You know me too well John. Tell me, why are you wearing that ridiculous suit?” Sam inquired as she grabbed her drink and sipped it with a sly grin.

“I’ve been told I’m to aid the ground team with the expedition. The captain seemed adamant about it being a bad idea but apparently Commander Greyson and Officer McAlder said it would be a good idea to have heavy infantry out in the field just incase.” John informed as he slammed his massive mug of Styx Hellfire Brew back.

“Yeah, but why are you wearing that in the cafeteria? The H.U.A. are getting cozy in the brig and unless you’re hoping for a massive bar fight I think you’re a bit over prepared.” Sam said with a small giggle.

 “Truthfully, it’s easy to get to the front of lines when you’re dressed for a large scale war.” John said with a mischievous smirk.

“I better not be hearing that one of our H.A troopers is misusing military equipment, Xexes…” Dan interrupted as he approached their table, a neutral look on his handsome face as he looked at Sam and John.

“Sir, no sir; I was awaiting orders and thought it’d be wise to gear up before hand!” John formally responded, sitting a bit straighter while Sam merely watched.

“You’re not the first Heavy who’s used their suit for something like getting their drinks a bit faster through intimidation and you won’t be the last; but if I find out you’re jumping off the side of the Southern Cross in that thing as some kind of game, I’ll have you thrown out of the army for misusing expensive, restricted equipment. Now sober up soldier, we’re flying out within the hour; you too Samantha.” Dan ordered as he placed two clear, mist filled inhalers on the table.

“Damn, and I was just starting to get tipsy.” Sam murmured as she picked up the medical instrument and inhaled the wispy substance inside, mirroring Jonathan. As she breathed out a large, white cloud of gas she felt her body come down from its alcohol induced high and skip the hangover she rose from the table and followed the commander and her buddy out of the mess hall and towards the nearest elevator.

“Sir, what can the ground team expect from the coming expedition?” John questioned as they stepped inside the massive service elevator and pressed a button labelled ‘hanger’.

“The surrounding forest and mountain ranges seem standard for a Terran class planet and the weather seems agreeable, but we have no idea what the fauna and flora are like. You could be walking into a barren forest full of harmless weeds or a monster infested jungle full of plants utilising prehensile tentacles. Everyone who’s touching ground has been ordered to carry at least two firearms and plated armour...Looks like you’ve got that front covered.” Dan informed as John pulled a large, dark green rifle off his back after checking his long, silver plated  revolver.

His revolver was an Anaconda Mark.10, the latest and most powerful of its kind. The weapon was aesthetically pleasing with a gleaming, plated cover, black leather grip, long vented barrel with inscribed letters along the sides. The gun's cylinder is designed to store various types of ammo ranging from the standard ballistic, to the green laser rounds, to the shield melting blue plasma shells and the Machina killing purple pulse rounds. The gun's receiver was topped off with a circle of clear glass propped up by a steel frame; when viewed through a H.A trooper’s H.U.D the user would see a digital scope of sorts.

The standard issue H.A combat rifle was more a LMG then a rifle; the lengthy gun had an extended barrel tipped with a muzzle break, the gun's sights only worked in tandem with the user’s armours H.U.D, the box magazine held three hundred AP rounds and the stock doubled as a melee weapon with how hard a H.A can swing it. Heated spent rounds would pour out of the right side of the gun and tended to pool near the boots of the trooper and under the barrel rested a large, ergonomic grip that morphed to the user’s hand. The gun was long, bulky and destructive but compared to some of the other weapons a H.A trooper could use it was fairly stock standard.

“Roger that commander.” He answered as the elevator stopped. The hanger was a buzz with activity like it always is. Many engineers and scientists were getting a multitude of long range recon drones working while the plethora of pilots and soldiers stationed nearby were ready to be deployed at a minutes noticed. Walking over the multiple airships, bombers, fighters and transports below on the wide catwalk we’re on we approached a lift down to the hive of maintenance below. After another short ride down, Jonathan and Sam split off.

“See ya round Johnny; don’t worry about some monster grabbing you while you’re stuck down there, I’ll be your eyes in the sky!” Sam declared as she patted the hulking man who was donning his helmet. With a loud hiss and then a click it locked into place, the lights on the front and side glowing a soft red.

“Thanks Sam; try not to get shot down, it’s always a pain having to drag your ass out of a burning wreck.” John replied, his external speakers muffling his jovial voice slightly. As John walked over to a large APC with various Hybrid and Machina crew members, Sam and Dan marched over to a smaller, yet still impressive, VTOL.

The M32 Griffon was a heavily armoured vehicle capable of breaking the sound barrier when pushed to the limit. Its cockpit was reinforced with unbreakable glass and a titanium frame but a series of metal plates could be lowered in the case of incoming fire or a crash landing. The sides of the small VTOL had two colossal, laser firing gatling guns sticking out of them. The stationary weapons were the staple of air combat; they were accurate and damaging enough to pierce the hull of an opposing aircraft but didn’t rely on conventional ammo. The receiver were multiple laser rifle barrels placed on a rotating frame that would fire a multitude of blue lasers when they were positioned in front of the guns lengthened barrel. The only downside to these infamous weapons were their tendency to overheat when they fired non stop for a few minutes. The inside of the VTOL had a small cockpit for a pilot and copilot and a small area for about ten soldiers to sit, two of which would man the cannons. The airships rotators were able to be boosted through the use of four engines placed at the back of the metal plated carrier. The ship was fast and light enough to go on scouting missions but reliable and armoured enough to withstand fire and still fly straight.

“How long now, Sir?” Sam asked as she stepped inside her aircraft, easily identifiable by the pin up of a blond, busty Pureblood woman straddling a massive, thermonuclear bomb and the name ‘Olivia’ written on the side.

“Not long now, just waiting on the captain’s orders.” Dan answered as he sat down next to one of his soldiers. All of his team wore identical armour. They all were adorned in light armour, encapsulating helmets and had the same red emblem painted on their chests and left shoulders. The Red Sun, an iconic symbol synonymous with the Southern Cross. All of them were elite shock troopers who’d been baptised by fire and all of them felt the magnitude of the coming endeavour. Taking her seat in the front of the ship, Sam put on her pilot's helmet and pressed a button on the side of the metal frame, causing the opaque glass front of the helmet to go clear like a window.

“Well I hope for all our sakes this mission goes smoothly.” Sam replied as she reclined in her chair and waited for her orders.

“I wish I could kick Matt down the fuckin’ stairs. What an asshole!” Patrick exclaimed loudly as he silently wept into his paperwork. It’d been hours since the meeting and Pat was still fuming with hate, his gross Pat belly jiggling with rage.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, Sir, if past experiences have taught me anything it’s that hurting an Awoken just makes them angrier.” Hielda suggested from her seat on the other side of the governor's orange, polished, wooden table with golden accents. The table was covered in paperwork and ‘legal bullshit’ as Pat would call it and even though he’d spent hours writing and signing whatever was needed he’d barely put a dent in it. The only other things on his table were his anime figurines, most of them big breasted school girls or cool, cybernetic samurais, and a picture frame containing a picture of him and his cat.

“If it weren’t for all the civvies I’d probably be done by now…” Patrick stated morosely as he rubbed his tired eyes and looked out his window into the night. He was most likely right; every once in awhile a colonist would come in requesting something or seeking aid, and like the diligent noble she thought he was, he did his best to fix their problems.

“Fucking assholes..” Pat mumbled angrily. Although she hadn’t heard him she knew he was angry about something.

“Is something the matter, my lord?” Hilda asked with a worried tone on her pale blue face and shining blue eyes showing concern for her ‘brave noble’.

“Fucking Captain Matt! Oh my god these fucking, mother fucking colonists!” He cried out in an almost incoherent fit of ire. His assistant/bodyguard was able to sympathise. The night had not been kind to him and he was feeling the stress.

“I know this is hard for you Governor Patrick, but we all appreciate your hard work.” She offered honestly with a soft smile.

“Shut up, Garbage...Look, unless you’re going to help with this legal shit you can take the day off or something. I don’t think I’m going to suffer a second assassination attempt tonight and I’m sure you’ve got...Okay I don’t know what you do when I’m not around but I’m sure you do something boring.” Pat berated then offered as he collapsed into his pile of work again. Hielda was a little hurt by how he shrugged her off but she was sure it was merely the stress talking.

“Thank you, my lord.” Heilda politely replied as she got up from her plush chair and walked out of the immaculate, book shelf and liquor counter lined room.

“Yeah, yeah; close the goddamn door on your way out, thanks.” Pat halfhearted said as a farewell as she left his office. The door to his small workspace was guarded by four heavily armed guardsmen who, despite standing there for hours on end, seemed perfectly fine and alert.

As Hildegrade walked away from the noble’s only place of solace she couldn’t help but reflect on everything as she walked down the busy hallways, passages and rooms leading to the Bridge. For two weeks the expedition had been going smoothly; all systems were functioning at their peak, the colonists were happy, the captain and governor didn’t argue all the time, the security teams hadn’t seen a single H.U.A. sympathiser and there were no hints of mutiny or rebellion. But all of that changed the second the planet come into view. Something about this planet forced the H.U.A. to act, Heilda was sure of this, but she had no idea why they would do such a brash, tactless thing when they could have waited till the colonisation began.

Hilda’s thoughts were interrupted as she bumped into someone, causing both of them to fall to the ground.

“Watch where you’re-oh, it’s you.” She heard the other person utter with disdain. Hilda looked up and saw it was Second Officer Diane McAlder. She was a fairly normal looking Hybrid. Purple, reflective skin that looked more plant like then it should, shoulder length, leaf like green hair that was well kept, prim and proper. Her bark brown eyes and alluring, alien features were scrunched up in a sneer. Like many of the female officers she wore a long dress uniform, though her’s was obviously more decorated and protective. She wore a long blue dress with multiple ribbons over her heart and metal emblems on her shoulders that resembled silver ravens. She wore a long skirt that concealed pieces of light armour and the plasma pistol strapped to her thigh; Her slim, slouched figure betrayed her extreme combat training, the only indicator that she was proficient in combat being the large, compacted heavy machine gun strapped to her back. When extended, the gun’s barrel was longer than Hilda's arm, fired superheated yellow laser beams and carried large cells bigger than her fist. although the body of the gun was light enough to be held it also came with a tripod so it could be positioned strategically. Although an intimidating weapon in use it currently looked more like a box then a gun. The only pieces of protection that was visible to the eye were the small pads of nanofiber armour on her shoulders, arms and legs and the ornate, silver chest plate over her mutated heart,sizeable bust and stomach. Even when outside of battle, her towering weapons, lavish armour and authoritarian presence made lesser men shake in fear. Though all Heilda saw was an annoying Officer with no patience for anyone.

“What are you doing up here Heilda? This area is restricted to members of the Southern Cross’ crew only.” She demanded as she pulled out her PDA and began checking to see if the interloper had authorisation.

“Please get out of my way, Diane, I’m here to see the captain.” Heilda asked politely as she went to step around the infuriating Hybrid.

“You don’t get to make demands around here anymore, Colonist, and the captain is busy in his private quarters; I doubt he’s free to see you given how much trouble your ‘Governor’ has caused for him.” She interrupted as she stepped in the Heilda’s way. A few of the nearby guards looked at each other hesitantly. Many of them knew about Heilda’s strength and reputation, and the crew favoured the old Officer over the new Hybrid Officer, but if they didn’t support Diane if things went south then they’d be in danger of getting fired or worse.

“Listen Diane, we both know the captain’s never too busy to catch up with an old friend and you couldn’t stop me even if you tried so why don’t you get out of my face and I’ll be on my way.” Heilda bitterly responded as she stepped back from Diane, the shorter women getting very close to her.

“Is that a threat Miss Adoniram? I could have you thrown in the brig if you keep this up. I’ll say this once Hildegrade, get of my bridge or I’ll throw you off it.” The senior officer warned as Hilda rolled up her purple sleeves, showing her pale blue skin, and clenching her glove covered fists.

“Trust me, Diane, if I was threatening you, you’d know. And this isn’t your bridge, long before you showed up I was running the show; and before me the captain was managing just fine. Now let me make this perfectly clear, Diane, piss off or else.” Hilda ordered angrily.

“Hmph, you don’t scare me; maybe once you were seen as respectable but now you’re serving some wannabe nobleman with no class or grace and a servant who lacks common sense and-”

“Okay, what the hell is going on down there?” Matt interrupted, his confused and irritated voice booming out through both of their PDAs.

“Nothing, Sir, Colonist Adoniram was just demanding to see you.” Diane answered straight away with a level tone.

“Send her up.”

“What? Sir, she doesn't-”

“I don’t care, Diane, I simply do not care anymore. Send her up if she wants to see me.” Matt ordered, disregarding protocol. With an agitated sigh, she stepped aside as Hilda victoriously walked past her to the back of the bridge where the elevator to the Captain’s Quarters rested. In front of the elevator stood two sentries decked in golden, silver and sapphire armour. No one could mistake these two as anything other than a Royal Guards.

The first and last line of defense for the noble fleet, these primarily Pureblood soldiers were the best of the best; all of them have seen warfare first hand and all of them have survived the most daring, soul crushing and painful training regiment. They’d all earned their opulent armour and they wore their scars and damaged gear as a badge of honour. These two were identical in many ways; They both wore large, shining suits of armor that weighed as much as a set of power armour and offered equal amounts of protection. Their golden chest plates had a massive, majestic, two headed eagle soaring upward with a sword and shield in each outstretched talon. Their pauldrons displayed their call sign and family they were in service too. Their legs and arms were entombed in shining, silver embroided power armour; their heads protected by a massive helmet not unlike an ancient Human knight’s, complete with a giant blue plume atop their heads. Their intricate armour was primarily made of hardened gold with silver lining and secondary colours but also had veins of crystalised sapphire running through them. Around their necks a large, blue scarf rested, covering their necks and the lower parts of their helmets. In each of their gauntlet covered hands they wielded two mighty weapons.

They both utilized the standard, yet powerful, great shield and plasma lance set. In their left hands they held a massive, towering wall of metal displaying the Alexard family crest, a roaring blue manticore set in front of a shield, and had multiple layers of metal and nanofibers woven into the protective layer. if the large pieces of metal weren’t enough to protect against small arms fire then the large shield generators on the opposite side were providing a golden, translucent shield powerful enough to withstand a missile or melter beam. In their other hands they grasped the mighty plasma lance. The iconic weapon was a massive, plasma firing polearm tipped with a large, polished spear head capable of tearing through a guardsman chest plate. If the sharpened head wasn't enough to kill someone then the spears plasma thrower was able to lobe or fire a steady stream of plasma fire. When not in use, the thrower coated the white tip in scorching plasma, giving it an unnatural green glow. The handle of these metal lances and shields were wrapped in a pair of sacred, sapphire blue cloths gifted to a Royal Guard when they passed basic training.. It was symbolic of tying their soul and life to their weapon and cause; they’d become one with their weapons.

Each pair of guards was usually comprised of a man and women, most of the time they’d be a guard that came from a poor upbringing and another from a rich, noble background. In the Royal Guard, your background, race, sex and look never mattered; it was your principles and morals that you’d be judged by.

“Hail Adoniram of Earth, what business do you have with Sir Alexard?” Asked the guard on the left, her booming voice echoing out through the large bridge.

“I just wanted to talk to him.” She declared, looking up at the colossal human who was nearly a foot taller than her.

“Sir, Hildegrade Adoniram has-” The second guard started, his older and wiser voice being cut off halfway through his report.

“Let me guess, she wants to see me?” Matt interrupted with an annoyed tone.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Send her up. Thank you.”

“My apologies.” The female guard apologised as she moved her shield out of the doorway and the male guard pressed the button to open the door. Stepping inside to the smaller, brightly lit elevator with a small leather couch in it, she stood in front of the elevator door and watched it close. As the elevator ascended to a hidden part of the ship, she looked herself over in the reflection of the metal door.

As far as Pureblood humans go, she looked nothing like one. She was 6’2 tall, had pale blue skin, shimmering, blue crystal like eyes and long, wispy, platinum blond hair. She wore a long, warm, royal purple jacket with black leather armour placed over it protecting her chest and back. Her neck was kept warm by a lining of black fur, her shoulders were padded with small, leather guards that followed the curve of her arms. Her slender neck was covered by a torn scarf and a small necklace with a white, chipped rock. Her hands were protected by a pair of black, studded gloves that could deliver a powerful punch and her legs were covered by a pair of tight black jeans and boots with the back of the jacket tailing behind them. Strapped to the large belts around her waist rested two Terran swords. Although she was restricted from carrying a gun, she was allowed to keep her old swords. As she began to hear loud, Terran music thumping loudly behind the elevator’s doors she knew she was right outside his room. The doors slid apart and she was hit by a wave of loud techno music and the smell of Ascended spirits.

The captain's quarters were what you’d expect. It’s floors were lined with glossy, brown wooden panels, the metal walls were lined with paintings, posters, decorations and more than one display case with a powerful weapon or artifact from Humanity's past. As she stepped out of the elevator she had to reacquaint herself with the old room. The bar and kitchen were still to the right of the entrance, the walls decorated with various empty spirit bottles and two ancient laser swords placed in front of a shield. The left side of the room, where once rested an ugly mural, now stood a large aquarium full of multicoloured fish from all over the cosmos. The captain’s queen sized bed rested on the opposite side of the room on a lower level, the blue and black bed was a mess with pillows and blankets left untidied. In front of and below the bar rested the captains lounge.

 Three comfy, leather sofas were arranged around a large, black wooden table with multiple empty bottles and random pieces of technology scattered atop it. The captain’s study was a few feet away from the bed; the simple black table and chair were frequently used when Matt was busy with paperwork, checking his emails or playing video games to procrastinate. An assortment of anime figurines and toy soldiers were littered over the table. The only thing that stood out from the childish collection of toys was a haunting trophy from the war for Novaguard. Matthew’s old shock trooper helmet; the once white, blue and red helmet was broken in several places, it’s visor was smashed and there was a large, deep cut in the side of the burnt grey helmet but the painted icon of the Red Sun let the world know it was once his.

Next to the Aquarium rested Matt’s personal armoury. It was filled to the brim with swords, guns, bombs and armour. Some of them were standard issue and meant to be used; but like many of the works of art splattered throughout his cramped yet comfy room, there were pieces of his family's history in his secured stash that were only used by him when he was bored. And in the center of this room stood Matt himself. Instead of his regal captain’s uniform he simply wore the dress pants, some socks, a singlet and the hat. hilda knew this look well and it wasn't a pleasant one.

“Permission to come aboard?” She jokingly asked as he walked up the small set of stairs to the bar, a golden bottle in his left hand and a ballistic pistol in his right.

“You don’t even have permission to be in that elevator, so why the fuck not?...Did you get augments? Your eyes look awesome.” Matt exclaimed as he grabbed a second bottle of orange, crystalline whiskey.

“Oh, yeah; I thought it looked cool...So, how are you? You seemed kind of...Upset back there.” Hilda asked with a worried expression as Matt walked back over to his couch and shot the cap off the expensive bottle.

“I’m feeling pretty shitty right now, not gonna lie; They never said being a captain would be easy but they didn’t tell me it’d be agonisingly hard…” Matt lamented as he brought the large bottle to his mouth and took a large gulp.

“Boy that hits the spot...Want some?” Matt offered as he passed the fancy, decorative bottle to Heilda who gingerly took it from him.

“Thanks...Wow, if this is the kinda booze you can a offer where can I apply to be a captain.” She joked as she tasted the fruity, flavourful drink that tingled her taste buds.

“The booze, free house and guns are the only good thing about it...Fucking Styx this is all a bloody mess…” Matt sighed out as he threw his pistol onto his bed and sank into his couch.

“Come on man, you know you can rant to me.” Heilda sympathetically said as Matt chuckled lightly.

“Ah, for a second there it sounded like you actually work for me; sure you’re not getting me confused for Lord Governor Shithead?” Matt jeered with a smirk as she frowned.

“Matthew, can we not start another argument? For once I just want to have a normal, friendly conversation.” She requested as she sighed and tried to hide the agitation in her voice.

“Kinda hard to do that when all I can imagine is that asshole acting like he knows what he’s doing...Seriously, what do you see in that loser? He’s a noble but he’s not a noble person.” Matt mocked then asked intently as he looked at her.

“I don’t owe you an explanation for my life decisions...Look, if you’re just going to get drunk and bitter then I should just leave.” Heilda stated with anger as she went to get up.

“Fine, I’ll drop it for now...Man, I would give anything to have my boots on the ground, rifle in my hand, helmet on my head while wading through mud and blood leading shock troopers to glory or death...Instead I’m filling papers, raising moral, micromanaging a whole fucking ship and caring for veritable horde of colonists who think I’m just some Ascended warmonger...Damn, I sure sound a lot like Dad nowadays…” The captain lamented as he took another swig of booze before laughing humorlessly.

“You know we all appreciate what you do; not just anyone can be a captain of a warship. The crew doesn't hate you, they just...Don’t know how to handle an Ascended captain; for as long as most people can remember DAYNE was the only Ascended on board and he’s...Different.” Heilda reassured as she took another hit from his radiant bottle.

“I don’t see why they have to be afraid or hateful of me or DAYNE, I mean the ship already has a squad of Ascended hunters-I mean Royal Guards on it. What more do they want? I’m not gonna put on a shock collar or restrict my psionics to make a bunch of superstitious idiots happy.” Matt darkly muttered as his eyes slowly slightly brighter.

“You know the Empress assigned them to the ship to protect you, not harass you. Every noble family has at least one and you and Patrick are the only nobles of your respective lineages; if you two die on this expedition then the Alexard and Woolsworth families won’t exist.” Heilda explained as Matt rolled his eyes.

“And we’re both so special we need a platoon for us both? Let's not sugar coat it, no one trusts an Ascended to lead a ship and everyone feels safer knowing if the glowing monkey steps out of line.” He punctuated his small, hateful rant with a click of his fingers, causing an empty bottle on the black table to shatter. “Off goes his head. None of the colonists trust me or DAYNE and that’s the truth.” Matt mumbled with a depressed tone as he looked up at his ceiling.

“I do and so does Munov; that’s gotta count for something right?” She asked with a smile, her brash, larrikin voice unusually soothing and calm.

“Yeah, I guess it does...Engineer Jacobs Summer and Unit CHARON, both KIA during the H.U.A hostile takeover attempt. Per Unit CHARON’s will his hardware will be shipped back to his manufacturing facility on Mars in the hopes that they can rebuild him...Jacobs Summers had two kids and a wife...And it’s the Captain’s duty to inform the family their father or mother died in the line of service...Fuck, I can barely look in the mirror right now, how can I walk up to a grieving wife and told her ‘you’re Husband was a brave man who died as he lived, honourably.’ Honourably; there was nothing honourable about his death! They shot him in the back of the head while he was eating a sandwich, what the Styx do they mean honourably? I’d give anything not to tell his family he died during his lunch break, talking about which Quartz tag player is a cheating scum bag and which one of the Empress’ Sisters is probably sleeping with the Rear Admiral of the Armada. The guy was a Father from the starship Nova, but with all this red tape and legal bullshit you’d think he was a no named nobody; it’s that disconnected…” Matt ranted with anger, than sadness than a lack of emotion.

“I’ll do it for you if you want…” Heilda offered, seeing how this was hurting him.

“You don’t work for me, remember? You don’t have to do the things I don’t want to do anymore…” Matt rhetorically asked with a dead smile.

“I’m still your friend and you don’t have to do this when we get back to the Armada; you’ve already got enough legal stuff on your plate to worry about.” Heilda said sympathetically as Matt got up and stretched his muscles.

“No, I shouldn’t drag you back into my problems...It never ends well...Bah, enough of this sad shit; I got someone for you to say hi to!” Matt muttered softly before turning around with a big grin.

“Oh? And who’d this be?” Heilda asked as she slowly drained Matt’s bottle of Whiskey. Softly, Matt pulled a small steel chip with blue, shining circuitry in the centre. He lightly placed it on the coffee table and pulled a large, recently built battery out from under the table.

“So that’s why there’s all this techno-crap here...Wait, did you build that drunk?” Heilda grilled with a raised eyebrow as she backed away from the homemade battery causing Matt to laugh.

“Heh, you should know by now that Ascended drunk isn’t like Human drunk, I ain’t gonna blow us up; at least not today.” Matt explained as he began connecting wires and cables, causing the small chip to glow brightly and the large, grey box to whir loudly.

“Matt, I don’t know what you’re doing but this dosen’t look-”

“Safe? Don’t worry, Ol’ Monty taught him everything he knows about rigging up a generator. Hello Hilda, did you do something to your eyes? They look amazing!” The projected image of a man explained with a small, wise, accented laugh.

There on the table stood a projection of a pale, brown haired, scruffy faced, wise cracking man dressed in a crinkled blue suit and messed up tie. He wore black formal shoes that were a size too big and had two brown eyes that seemed to convey a feeling of joy. Everything about his chubby, handsome face and cocky smile was so familiar to Hilda…

“M-Monty?...I...Y-you’re-”

“Dead? Yeah, death’s a real bitch; don’t worry about it though, no hard feelings or anything.” Monty interrupted the stuttering, shocked woman who dropped the half empty bottle of whiskey, its contents slowly pooling out on the hardwood floor.

“After you left, I had a lot of spare time on my hands and went back to a few plans me and the Engineers cooked up after Montgomery...Passed away.” Matt explained with a sad smile as he sat down.

“B-but how?!” Heilda questioned as she looked between the two men who seemed to be taking the whole thing surprisingly well.

“You know those back up things Machina do? Well, I convinced DAYNE to let me try it after getting some tech inserted in my brain. It stung like Styx and it was mostly indecipherable data but DAYNE thought it might come in handy so the old bot kept it in its lab somewhere...Heh, didn’t think I’d come back from the dead that’s for sure…” The A.I explained as he walked around the table, or at least as far as he could with the small projection range of the basic chip.

“His chip and battery here are just temporary. I plan to upgrade him and plug him into the ship.” Matt informed as he sank back into the couch.

“Yeap, then the ship will have someone competent manning the guns at all times! Bit of a promotion from Ex-Head Engineer but I’ll be happy with any award, even ones given post posthumously.” Monty cheerfully stated as he rocked back on forth with his hands in his pockets.

“I-I think I need to go lie down…” Hildegrade cried out as she turned and quickly walked towards the elevator.

“Wait, don’t-” By the time Matt had gotten halfway through his sentence she’d already gotten in the elevator and began her descent.

“Well...That could have gone better…” Monty quipped from his position on the table. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up kid, I’d be shocked too if I met a guy I killed.” Monty tried to joke, instead coming across as morbid, as Matt collapsed onto his bed. He was about ready to fall asleep when his PDA beeped loudly from his table. With a groan, he rose and picked up the tablet.

“Yeah?”

“Sir, this is Commander Greyson requesting permission to begin Operation: Terra Nullius.” The new Commander of the Red Sun’s asked from the other side of the channel.

“Affirmative; Commander Greyson, from here on out you are to report any and all sightings, anomalies, native creatures and possible threats directly to myself or the bridge’s communications officers. Begin operation.” Matt ordered as he slowly got back into the role of Captain as he began putting on his uniform and fixing up his appearance.

“Roger Sir, Commander Greyson out.” He formally replied as he closed the channel. A few minutes later, Matt looked like his old self; and after inhaling a few puffs of Purgizium he was sober and ready to lead. Donning his hat, holstering his pistol and pocketing his friend’s chip, he strutted into the elevator and practised his cocky, normal grin.

Chapter 3: Boots on the ground, eyes in the sky. (edited by Anon, Mag and Aviator)

Chapter 3: Boots on the ground, eyes in the sky.

Deckard frowned, breathed in, and breathed out, trying to calm himself despite the APC driver’s choice in music; the synthesized tones and melodic instrumentals blaring through the speakers built into the reinforced panels above the doors. He’d come prepared with his unorthodox, experimental rifle: The X6-88 ‘Tempest’ Directional Force Cannon. The long, metal hand held canon softly hummed a mono-tone melody and vibrated lightly in his hands. The bulky, grey receiver was mostly featureless. It’s adjustable stock, trigger, grip and sights were bare bones and seemed almost awkward for a pair of human hands to hold; thankfully Deckard had long since removed his. The only anomaly on the gun's receiver was it’s ammo, which were large, dark green, cumbersome rechargeable batteries that stored enough energy for eight shots before they’d empty out. The long barrel of the oddly designed gun was the most noticeable feature. Although the body of the gun was merely functional and seemed lacking in parts, it was merely to compensate for the intense weight of the long barrel. The cannons triangular barrel was covered by multiple sliding plates, the top was painted a dull yellow with a few black warnings about how sticking fingers between the plates would sever them, that could be used to cool the rifle when it was over worked. When in normal use, the multiple vents on the side of the largest, top most, plates would open in between bursts of electromagnetic pulses. The barrel of the gun emitted a soft, electric blue light that was just waiting to be projected.

Mumbling something about calibrations and safety, the heavily augmented man looked over the rifle in his plated hands and made sure the weapon was still in safe mode. His voice was deep, gruff and sounded almost synthetic; his voice had an echoing, robotic tone to it that made it sound like a Machina was talking softly every time he spoke, like he had a second voice.  Looking up from the weighty firearm, he looked into the reflective helmet of the heavily armoured Machina across from him.

He looked more machine than man, which was exactly why he was even allowed on the expedition. His ‘body’ was painted in a dark, green and brown, camo patterned and layered with multiple lightweight plates and was further reinforced by a translucent shield that gave his metal limbs and body a faint shimmer. His torso had various pouches, pockets and bandoliers attached to the chassis of a standard field engineer’s armour. Because he was mostly metal, he was pardoned from wearing an already hindersome set of gear. His arms were reinforced by multiple flexible, grey covers that looked almost like struts for the already metal prosthetics. Out of the shoulders of his armour/body stood two small shoulder guards; although they offered little in the way of actual protection they easily concealed the small radio and geiger counter connected to his mental augments. His back was covered in the same dermal protection as the rest of his body, but also had a small set of magnetic locks for his rifle should he ever not need it in the field. His legs were just as extensively modified and armoured with multiple external armour that served to protect his intricately built limbs. The only part of his body that was clearly mostly flesh was his head, which would soon be protected by a standard issue filtration mask. His ebony skin was mostly hidden by his dermal plating and prosthetic limbs but he’d left his head mostly the same. His neon green eyes were modified and now were almost permanently covered by a pair of black lenses set in place by a steel frame, they acted as both a nearly constant H.U.D and protection from almost all elements, even being able to resist flash bangs and other blinding weaponry; despite the lenses people could still see a faint, unnatural glow from his cybernetic eyes . His shaved head was guarded by an odd, newly developed helmet that worked in tandem with the augmented soldier’s mental implants. The brown helmet was seemingly clamped onto the skull and had a variety of plates and covers that could resist most small arms fire. Along with the abnormally protective covering, the helm also had several optical lenses that acted like a series of additional ‘eyes’; without the aid of mental augments, these additional eyes would overload a normal human’s senses and drive them mad. To Deckard, madness wasn’t a worry, falling the mission and getting sent back to his former post was a worry to him.

“Okay you weeds, gearheads and augs, listen up!” The driver of the massive APC cried out through the speakers in the cramped, well lit seating area instantly grabbing the attention of the multiple Hybrids and Machina and the two ‘Human’ soldiers.

“This is a scouting mission, we’re expecting to run into standard Terran class planet fauna and flora; although that doesn't mean we should get comfy or let our guards down while we’re outside the ship. Stick to the convoy, don’t break off from your squad and if we’re being airlifted out we won’t have time to screw around, we got a job to do so let's do it right with no casualties or rookies playing hero.” The bot on the other end ordered, its mechanical voice sounding slightly irritated yet also determined.

“Operation parameters received...Operation begin…” Deckard heard to his left, the monotone droning clearly Machina in nature.

To the left of Deckard sat a SAIMID, or SAMs as most people simply called them. They were the latest combat Machina models that had been built and so far they were well received from the few starships, colonies and bases that were blessed with a team of them. They were all similar in design, they’re all large, tall bipedal robots with grey/black “muscular” frames that protected the vital pieces of tech snuggly packed into their ‘chests’ with vain like wires running throughout their limbs, along the edges and joints. They often wore metal armour plates or nanofiber ‘skin’ to offer additional protection and give them a more menacing look; this particular unit looked more like a combination. Like all Special Forces Units, this mech was wearing full body armor, in addition to attached shoulder protection and a hefty neck guard. Over its ‘muscle’ and plates it wore a form fitting black nanofiber tactical uniform with numerous pouches on the bandoliers resting on the large navy blue chest plate over the clothing and the large utility belt across its waist. Its legs were guarded by additional armour on the knees and shins over the pants of the uniform, mostly the large knee pads and metal boots that were strong enough to break bones but also lightweight enough for a Machina to run miles without risk of damaging its ‘feet’, and simply walking was another story altogether. On each shoulder piece, three stiff patches were visible on the velcro surface - its serial number, 366 in bold, white letters with a bar code underneath, its assigned battalion and insignia, the 15th Reconnaissance Battalion ‘Hivemind’, and a small print of the face of the iconic character, Robocop, from the 20th century film with the quote “Thank you for your cooperation.” in small, white letters below it. Most SAIMID units didn’t enjoy being given a nickname from Humans, Hybrids, Ascended or even other Machina for no reason other than “it bothered them”, but it didn’t seem to mind. Around its neck, under the guard, rested a flexible series of panels and plates that raised from the mechanical body, giving the illusion that the odd Machina had an actual neck. Towards the bottom of the face, above it’s ‘chin’, was a short crease that gave the idea of a slightly parted mouth on it’s smooth, hexagonal, features. On the forehead, as well as where eyes would be, rested a large spherical optic with a dark grey sensor matching that of the rest of it’s face. Small, barely noticeable dots were embedded throughout the surface of the orb, housing multiple sensors of all different kinds, and placed in the front of the sphere rested two large optics with an emerald green tint in the top one’s lens. 366 had stated multiple times before that it wasn’t its ‘head’ as it didn’t have one and was merely a cornucopia of sensors and optics that gave him unparalleled vision and senses. While this was entirely the case, it was still obvious that 366 did, in fact, possess a head of sorts. From the back of the head as a whole ran a large, orange wire casing straight down the back of the bot’s body and into its metal spine. If it weren’t for the large, spherical sensor protruding from it’s face you could mistake 366 for a heavily augmented biological soldier. Even without the armor, the dexterity of the new SAIMID unit was often greatly underestimated, and in the event that 366 was severely damaged, it could still function to get back to safety.

Strapped to its thigh rested a T-7 ‘Riot’ sidearm, the standard issue pistol for Machina law enforcement. The weapon was small enough to fit in the hand of a bipedal machine, weighty enough so a Human or Ascended couldn’t steal it or use it without serious effort, and was able to hold enough rounds to never have to reload in a well thought out firefight, rarely would a Machina need to use all 25 rounds. It was criticized as being unnecessarily large with its long, grooveless grip, missing trigger guard to accompany the elongated trigger, extended, vented barrel and holographic scope. The pistol was made lengthier by the small suppressor at the end of its barrel. The pistol was nearly impossible for a normal creature to use but to a Machina it was a lightweight, versatile sidearm.

In the Machina’s hands rested perhaps one of the most terrifying Machina inventions to date, the Prototype T-S ‘Chemtrail’. Unusable by organics since it was scorching hot and gave second degree burns if held by any organic when powered up, the obsidian black rifle was based of the design of a 25th century sniper rifle and the extended barrel, large stock and massive, adjustable, square scope - which acted rather as an extra eye for aiming - reflected this. The gun had two different ammo types that needed to be reloaded at the same time: the heavy armor piercing .50 caliber sized tungsten sabots - each of which had a small propelling charge on the back to propel it into the rails of the barrel - and the acidic, boiling hot substance the specially tailored rounds were coated in. The bullets were inserted via a large, grey, boxy magazine and the chemical substance was fed into a chamber located behind the grip of the gun through a small, white tube that extended from a hidden compartment in 366’s right hand. A chamber in the large, reinforced stock of the destructive rifle held the acid in a gaseous form and it was refilled by 366 on every reload for the new rounds. Only itself and its engineers knew wherever it stored the unknown chemical in its body, or how it made it, but it was able to replenish itself over time by ‘unknown’ means. The barrel of the gun was separated in two parts: the large cylinder where the bullets are coated before firing and the extended, magnetically accelerated barrel. Normally, the weapon was used similarly to a sniper or rail rifle, due to the incredible bullet velocity, and carried a limited number of rounds and acid, but this SAIMID unit came with a fully automatic variant that could make short work of any land, sea or air vehicle with enough ammo or well placed shots, and both types of ammo were more than plentiful on this unit. After calibrating the weapon and reasoning that it didn’t need it, it removed the grip under the barrel and used it like an assault rifle; even then, without ammo the acid spitting, boiling hot, meter and a half long rifle made an effective club even if powered down.

“Operative: Deckard. Query: Why are you, a Human, allowed to sortie on this operation with us?” 366 pondered aloud, its low-pitched, monotone voice seemingly making it sound bored out of its digital mind.

“Well, Robocop, with all the augments I’ve received for my respirators, optics, dermal plating and digital/mental processors they say I should be able to handle anything at this point. An adept field engineer with knowledge of this Hydras weapons and systems would be optimal.” Deckard answered as he leaned back and rested his head on the padded seat he was secured to.

“And you, Operative: Jonathan?” The unit continued as it leaned forward to look past Deckard to the metal plated behemoth next to him.

“All Heavy Assault Armour is designed to handle everything; it’d take a tank round to even dent my filters. The higher ups thought the scouting party should have someone beefy enough to handle Demons out in the field.” the Assault Trooper replied as he pressed a variety of buttons on the holographic display on his suit’s left wrist.

“Explanations deemed satisfactory, no further input is necessary.” SAIMID-366 declared as it looked away from the only two ‘Humans’ inside the APC and faced forward, ready for action.

The ‘Hydra’s belly’, as soldiers called it, was packed full of soldiers, scientists and engineers; regardless of whether they were organic or machine, everyone was on edge. The compartment’s walls were lined with seated personnel, all strapped into their assigned black seats, and standing in the center of the holding area was a large deployable pylon designed for surveying areas and atmospheres. Despite being much smaller than one would expect when in transit, the javelin shaped sensor was a staple of colonial exploration. The red and white instrument shined dully in the hold’s pale lights. Outside of the sturdy, all-terrain vehicle were 4 others just like it all descending into the depths of the Southern Cross on one of the large, service lifts inside the Hanger and Vehicle Bay. The platform was bathed in red light as the secure lift slowly began decelerating as it reached the bottom floor of the labyrinthian Corsair class vessel.

“So, Deckard, what’d you expect to find out there?” John asked as he sat stiffly, unable to relax in a full set of armour.

“Undiscovered lifeforms, minerals, possibly toxic gases...Why do you ask?” Deckard countered as he stared at the trooper’s face plate.

“Oh, no reason, just wanted to hear what you were thinking is all.” he answered as he looked away from the odd man.

“Hm, alright...What do you think we will find Assualt Trooper Xexes?” Deckard questioned as he continued to look at the taller man.

“Large, carnivorous beasts that we’ll have to fight off.” John replied hopefully.

“Possible, unlikely though; I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” Deckard simply stated as he looked away from the simple man and held onto his chair as the elevator suddenly stopped and everyone inside heard the giant, bulkhead doors of the shaft open up followed shortly by the carrier slowly speeding up. Turning his flesh covered head to the side he looked out the tiny tinted, bulletproof window behind him. The wide, expansive path the carrier was speeding down was rarely used, but was still maintained and kept in pristine condition. Their APC was leading a small band of Hydras down a straight, well lit metal road with small pathways blocked off lining the road. The roof was occasionally obscured by catwalks and lifts and on the ground level Machina assault squads and R-43 Raiders on standby in case something went wrong in the field. The large alcove was usually empty or manned by a skeleton crew as it was rare for a Corsair, or any other gargantuan starship, to ever have to use the cargo bay unless it was offloading or stocking up on supplies and never because it crash landed on a planet.

“Robocop, what do you think we’ll find out there?” John inquired, making small talk to a droid who probably didn’t care about small talk.

“Organic life, and minerals.” The SAIMID unit responded as it stared forward unblinking.

“Oh, well, that’s not vague at all.” John stated, taken aback by how uninteresting and normal its response was.

“I do not know what is out there,” 366 added, obviously sensing the sarcasm. “If I did, or had any more accurate assumptions, I would tell you in greater detail. That said, we have to be ready for the worst, never the best.” It replied as it continued to watch the opposite wall. Because most of the scouting party was comprised of combat units or Hybrids who seemed to be in the middle of meditation the storage area of the APC was assaulted by Machina music, all anyone could hear were the occasional loud mumbling of a Hybrid, the wir of a Machina servo or John and Deckard clearing their throats or examining their firearms.

“Okay boys, we’re riding out in 30 seconds; Deckard, we all know you’re mostly metal but put a filtration mask on; the captain will have my head on a pike if you die from a glaring mistake.” The driver requested as the Hydra slowed down and took its position at the end of the small convoy in front of the massive, slightly dented metal bulkhead door reinforced by a vast, electric blue shield that was slowly fading away as the door began the opening sequence.

“Show time…” John’s comment sounded almost mechanical as his sealed helmet, now locked in place, distorted his voice slightly.

“We all know what we have to do, try not to suffer heavy damage while you’re at it.” Deckard commented as he begrudgingly placed the ice white nanofiber framed mask on, its clear bullet proof glass covering his face.

“Operation threat level:...1. Low risk.” 366 stated flatly, John assumed, as the Storage Bay bulkhead slid open, the panels disappearing into the outer plating of the starship; the only thing keeping the Storage Bay safe was the large shield that still stood tall in case the air was toxic. Without a word, the convoy drove past the end of the road lined with massive metal containers and military equipment and past the shield.

“Until we can verify that we won’t all die from some airborne virus or sudden change of weather the shields are staying up per quarantine and emergency landing procedures. Unless you're driving to another continent or the other side of the planet all of the Southern Cross’ weaponry should be able to hit a designated target in case of an emergency, just be sure you’re hauling ass out of there; there’s a reason some of this ship’s anti-ground weapons systems are called ‘earth crackers’. From here on out you’re walking into the unknown, good luck out there Hivemind and may the Empress’ will guide you.” The captain reminded via his com link to the Battalion’s closed channel.

“Alright bots and broccoli, we’re rolling out.” The driver cheered through the speakers over his music. The APC shook a little as the front treads adjusted to the uneven terrain. Looking out the windows Deckard, John and the few Hybrids not meditating were enthralled by the beauty around them.

The spaceship had crash landed in a massive clearing, most of the land was uneven but only populated by a few patches of shrubs, flowers or weeds. The rolling emerald field filled with seas of vibrant flowers was a stark contrast to the colossal, shining grey warship and its multiple weapon systems and glowing shield. The clearing was unusually long, about three miles in length and one and a half in width. The ship was only two miles long and three quarters of a mile wide; even with the ship in the dead center of the clearing there was enough room for a colony to begin expanding out. Behind the ship was a long, smouldering trail of dirt, rock and uprooted trees and plants. The ship had hit hard but thankfully it’d been a much smoother landing than many other historical crashes; they hadn't lost half the ship in the landing. The borders of the clearing were outlined by a massive ocean of dark purple and blueish black trees and dark green bushes that could easily hide an animal or person if they were clever enough. The sky was a serene crystal blue and the clouds overhead were the most fluffy and the whitest many of the soldiers had ever seen.

“Damn, nothing like home at all…” John muttered as he stared in awe, never before having seen such a vibrant and varied display of colours.

“Clearing and surrounding woodlands deemed strategically sound.” SAIMID-366 declared as it looked away from its window, it's scanning process complete.

Off in the horizon, about a day's walk from the clearing, rested a massive divide of mountains and crevices. The mounts rose into the sky, piercing the clouds, and the dark cracks in the ground ran so deep the light couldn’t touch the bottom. The soldiers knew they’d sooner or later have to check out the range as well.

“Five hundred credits says we’ll have to kill some ungodly beast when we rock up there.” John wagered with a smirk as Deckard gave him a look.

“Why would I waste money on such an unnecessary and pointless guess? A lot of things most likely inhabit those mountains.” The augmented man responded as he gave John an odd look.

“Jeez, you really need to spend more time with some organics Deck; you’re not fun.” John muttered as he re-calibrated his helmet’s H.U.D.

“I was born organic, I still am organic and I was raised with organics, I’ve spent enough time with organics. Machina, Ascended Machina, Cyborgs and of course Ascended Cyborgs are simply easier to understand.” The field engineer shot back with a neutral tone as his neural augments made sure everything was working at optimal capacity.

“Drone-1 here, the rest of the convoy is changing to their assigned courses; good luck out there Drone-5, over.” A soft, almost harmonic male voice stated through the com channel.

“Roger Drone-1, have fun running tests and setting up walls, over.” The driver jokingly replied as it laughed over the link. Everyone, aside from the Machina soldiers, braced themselves as the large carrier drove into the woods and out of the clearing, the path chosen quickly becoming bumpy and uneven.

“Styx, these woods are bloody dark…” John whispered as he looked out the window, marveling at the dank and misty woods.

The APC and its soldiers continued into the woods, received a constant feed of reports from the rest of Drone team as they performed their assigned duties. The woods seemed to swallow light and the four large blue lights on the front of the APC and the large searchlight on placed on top of the massive V.I controlled, anti-infantry HMG continuously did a 360 degree scan to keep the imminent surroundings clear. The woods stood menacingly over the durable vehicle, the bushes and shrubs did nothing to stop the unbreakable treads of the transport. Everyone’s helmet told them it was still early in the morning, only about 7 o'clock AM by Imperial standard, yet it was so dark it could be 8 at night. The shadows outside seemed to weave and morph as the creatures, big and small, inhabiting the forest scurried about in fear or hatred of the giant mechanical beast trespassing in their domain.

“Drone-5, Drone-3 here; we’ve finished scanning the air for any and all known hazards and so far it’s deemed breathable. The Humans can take their masks off but try not to sneeze on anything, over.” An unknown female voice called out, its voice distinctly machine.

“Copy that Drone-3. How’s the progress on the wall? Over.”

“We’re ahead of schedule; the western side, aka the forest approach, is almost ready to be powered up and the Northern mountain path is about 84% finished. All that’s left is the Eastern side and South side, over.” She replied with a happy tone.

“Bravo Zulu and all that jazz, we’ve finally found a suitable place to set up the pylon. Styx, with all these trees, mist and creepy shit you’d think you’re on the bad parts of Eden...Over.” The Machina driver responded, sounding almost freaked out.

“Be careful out there, Unit A.D.a.M, command will scrap us all if you bastards die on us. Over.” She worryingly replied.

“Nah, we’ll be fine; pylon and defense should be set up shortly and we’ll make better time on the drive back. Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast. Over.” Unit A.D.a.M, the Automated Driver and Maintenance unit, joked as he slowed down the APC. The lights in the ‘belly’ flashed red and everyone stood up and got into two perfect lines, weapons in hand and a crew of four supporting the pylon and a few metal cases containing a bevy of automated defenses.

“Once more unto the breach…” John quoted as he took his position at the front of the group, Deckard and Robocop behind him in line.

“...Dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man. As modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger. Henry the Fifth, Act 3, Scene 1.” 366 added almost instantaneously in his droned out, monotone voice. “Query: You are familiar with the literature of Shakespeare?” 366 questioned after finishing John’s quote.

“N-no, I just always liked that opening line.” John stammered out, baffled by how quickly the Unit recognized the quote and how it suddenly continued.

“...Understood.” It stated as it readied its rifle while the massive door slowly lowered down, creating a ramp for the crew to quickly march out and form a defensive position. The crew found themselves in yet another clearing. The trees around the edges were torn down by...Something, the bark covered in multiple deep claw marks and green ichor of some kind, and the ground was even and smooth like something else had treaded upon it for a long time. The pale, cloudy sky above offered much needed illumination for the off-worlders as they began assembling a small outpost. As John guarded the four Machina troopers carrying the pylon, Deckard quickly scanned the Hydra for damage.

The mechanical beast of burden was a favourite on and off the frontlines. On the outside it was an imposing machine with layers of plated metal and shielding that made it astronomically hard for small arms to penetrate the alabaster white and dark blue transport. The windows on the side were more like black slits in between the panels and it would probably be impossible to see out of them now that they were covered in thick, wet mud much like the decorative painting of the Hivemind’s emblem, a trio of black wolves set on a red banner, on the side of the vehicle. The sheets of metal, paint job, windows and large, obscured treads were in impeccable condition sans the mud. The treads elevated the APC off the ground only slightly but were surprisingly adept at all-terrain transport, even for a scouting vehicle. The treads were made of a synthetic metal that was both lightweight and damn near indestructable. The series of wheels and the backup generator inside the tread was protected by a removable panel coloured the same way as the carrier with the same wide horizontal line running along it. The front of the shuttle curved down and looked almost like a flat piece of metal and shielding if it weren’t for the massive cow catcher blocking the gap in between treads, the flood lights on top of the front, the various sensors and optics and the two elongated .905 cal HMGs jutting out through the panels. The only things visible were the giant, black, vented barrels and the exit port for the humongous rounds. The roof had a single hatch and a V.I. controlled heavy machine gun that could be manually handled by a soldier protecting said hatch. All in all, the light armoured beast was still fit for duty even after carving a path through dense woodlands, swamps and a patch of blue flowers.

“Empress, I think we just drove into a nest of some kind…” One of the Hybrids said aloud as she tripped on a large, torn up leg of what could have been a blue fur covered...Horse of some kind. The shocked woman quickly got up and tried to wipe the blood off her white and green chest plate and grieves.

“What the Styx could’ve done this?” A Machina wearing light, forest green nanofiber armour questioned as it examined the limb before carefully picking it up and placing it in a sealed black bag with various warning signs on it.

“I don’t know, but good call on taking the limb, DAYNE and his docs will want to take a look at that thing; first animal part we’ve seen. Keep your guard up and weapon loaded, we’re obviously not alone out here.” John cautioned as he shouldered the butt of his machine gun and scanned the decimated tree line.

“Drone-5, this is Raven-1. We’re maintaining altitude above you and got a clear line of sight for both the optics and the gunner’s cannons. Over.” Sam reported over the com, the idle chatter of rowdy shock troopers in the background and the wir of the VTOLs engines drowning out her voice.

“Raven-1 this is Drone-5, we’re still setting up the pylon and the defenses but keep an eye out for movement in the forest, we may have just driven into something’s den. Over.” A.D.a.M requested, its gruff and deep voice tainted with concern.

“Operative: Deckard. Assistance required.” 366 stated from the other side of the APC at the pylon. Deckard made his way over, making sure to step over anything grisly.

“SAIMID Unit 366, what’s the problem?” The field engineer inquired as he kneeled down beside the droid and examined the complex inner workings of the massive sensor.

“Internal systems have suffered minor damage from the Southern Cross’ emergency landing. It needs immediate repairs.” 366 announced as it stood straight and walked away to continue its assigned order of guarding the engineers and scouts.

Progress was mostly slow due to the unnerving nature of their surroundings. The scanners always picked up movement or a distant sound but no one was able to make visual contact with anything and the disturbing noises radiating from the dark woods was chilling almost everyone aside from the guard droids and John.

“Empress’ tits, I can’t wait to be back on the ship…” One of the female scouts muttered next to John as the two marched around the perimeter of the site.

“Why? I’m finding this all kind of exhilarating.” John cheerfully asked with an odd spring in his step.

“Seriously? The dark, primitive and unknown woods don't creep you out?” She asked, her pale green face scrunched up in scrutiny.

“Nope, the last time I felt this ready was Novaguard.” John retorted as he continued to march on, the sound of his suits servos was drowned out by the dampened thud of his mechanical boots.

“Yeah, well, this is my first assignment. I was expecting to be back at the Armada by now, not actually patrolling no man’s land.” She truthfully said, her voice shaking slightly.

“Consider this a baptism by fire, you’re still kicking and you’re one of the few who’ve been the first to set foot on a new planet; some people dream of this kind of adventure.” John remarked with an audible smile.

“I guess you’re right; still didn’t want to have to be doing this for-...Did you hear it?” She interrupted herself as she dropped to one knee and raising her plasma shotgun to her shoulder, its dual metal barrels ready to dispense searing hot plasma. John likewise readied his LMG and paid extra attention to his H.U.D which was telling him something big was surrounding them completely.

“Yeah, something’s coming…” John stated the obvious as he suddenly went quiet. By now, everyone in the clearing had formed a defensive parmiter. SAIMID and its fellow guard droids of different makes and models stood ready, the few field engineers and technicians who were programming and setting up the automated defenses and scanner took cover behind the large, rectangular casing of the inactive turrets and John and the scouts had fallen back to stand ready with the Machina guards.

“50 yards out…” 366 announced quietly as it’s chemically enhanced rifle started humming to life, the little bits of dirt and other small amounts of buildup on the rifle from earlier smoldering and evaporating into thin columns of dark smoke as the rifle heated from the chemical induction.

“Raven-1, something huge is moving in on us. Over…” A.D.a.M warned from the safety of the APC, its HMGs ready to fire on anything foolish enough to attack.

“40 yards…” John spoke as he clicked his bulky machine guns safety off and readied to fire on the thing coming for them. Everyone could hear the insidiously soft crunching of dead leaves and snaps of twigs now.

“Drone-5, we’re ready to descend for a pick up but we’re in range to offer fire support. Over.” Sam reminded with a monotone voice as the shock troopers behind her quieted down, powered up their laser rifles and began wiring the barrels of the large auto-cannons hanging out the side of the craft.

“30…” Deckard calmly called out, his Tempest rifle vibrating in his metal hands, the sensation relaxing him as his enhanced eyes were able to see into the consuming darkness and mist and perceive the approaching shapes.

“Remember, don’t fire unless you know they’re hostile; we don’t want to cause an incident with any natives.” Commander Grayson ordered sternly as he took control of the large, high-explosive auto-cannon and aimed for the tree line.

“20 yards out...Styx…” One of the Machina stammered out in fear as it steadied its handgun and scanned the trees. The loud, approaching snaps of dead wood, pained and hungry howls of something unnatural and the beat of movement was all anyone could hear aside from the soft rumble of the carrier’s engine.

“I love this part…” John said under his breath as he saw the approaching creatures clear the treeline.

“What the fuck?” The female scout next to John commented as everyone stared at the bizarre and unnatural creatures that surrounded them.

There before them all stood a numerous pack of what looked like wolves made of timber and loose leaves. Their eyes glowed like Ferosulian fireflies and their bodies looked like they’d been either carved by a master or simply glued together by a toddler. The shambling, growling mockery of nature before them either enthralled or disgusted the soldiers but everyone knew these creatures were nothing like anyone had seen before.

“Fascinating…” One of the Hybrid field technicians remarked as he began taking photos of the newly discovered beasts via an augment in his left eye.

“Alert: Sensors suffering from possible malfunction.” Unit 366 stated as he aired an alert many Machina were probably suffering as well. All of them counted about forty or so creatures yet all of their sensors told them a gargantuan horde surrounded them. No one had time to voice their grievances as one of the wolf things growled menacingly, barked and charged full force towards the line of robots.

“Open fire, open fire!” Commander Grayson declared as everyone above and below began firing on the advancing mob. Bullets flew and embedded themselves deep inside the plant like insides of the creatures, lasers and plasma ignited the surface of their wood and explosive rounds turned them into wood chips. The forest was alight in colourful flashes of might and the sounds of a bloody, one sided skirmish. Spent shells rained down onto the muddy soil, along with thick, gelatinous amber sap from the large wounds and scorch marks ruining the surfaces of the individual monsters and the lumber around them.

“Get some!” John cried as a wolf to his left got dangerously close to him. He turned to fire his dark green machine gun but the magazine was empty.

“Shit!” Thinking quickly he activated the jump jets on the suit, small compartments on the back of his legs and back opening up, and propelled himself back just as the beast went to clamp its jaws on his left arm. Its jaw most likely wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the armour but he wasn’t taking any chances with an unknown race. Before it could recover he unsheathed his combat knife, crouching slightly and boosted himself back into position; the added speed and force was easily enough to sink the whole blade into its head and keep it wedged deep in there.

“Level of risk:...2.” 366 evaluated as it locked ‘eyes’ on two wolves sneaking around the small band of technicians and engineers using the trees to hide their presence. Without waiting for them to step into the open, 366 shouldered its rifle and looked down the square scope.

“Goodbye.” It said as it pressed down on the scalding trigger. From the barrel a torrent of sickly, dull green liquid came flying out at unfathomable speeds. The air smelt heavily of bitter, off vinegar and burning materials and anything the chemical trail came into contact with melted before everyone’s eyes; but at the front of the small trails of acid, at 7 and a half times the speed of sound, soared massive, pointed white sabots. Each bullet quickly penetrated parts of the wolves through the foliage and lumber they hid behind and the dead trees lining the clearing and out the other end as though they were made of paper, continuing on for some distance; the wolves were very surprised when they felt the small volley of high powered sabots and acid surge through them but the few organic crew watching were more surprised by the result. Wherever a bullet hit home a massive chunk of the wolf would dissolve into green, acidic goo that congealed and rapidly cooled down. Limbs, jaws, ears and tails were falling off and melting mid fall, their yells of pain swiftly silenced when a round went through their skulls or they simply decomposed too much. Only 9 rounds had been fired, each guided by 366’s pinpoint aim, in a little under a second.

“A marvel of Machina engineering...” Deckard complimented as he charged his force cannon to as high as the weapon would allow it. The once cool blue and soft light was now a crackling, vibrant dark blue and the gun shook intensely as Deckard adjusted the gun for the perfect shot. In front of Deckard, a few yards away, a pack of five or so wolves were about to swarm him and attempt to tear the metal man apart; obviously they’d fail with his body but his organs and face were still organic. Begrudgingly, he overworked his rifle and prepared to make drift wood out of the freaks of nature approaching him.

“Closer….” He mumbled as the field engineers leapt back in shock when they turned to face the five creatures that were nearly in his face. Time seemed to move slower when you’ve been given several extensive mental/digital improvements and so even with seconds to spare he was able to precisely deal with the new threat.

“Perfect.” Deckard exclaimed as he let go of the trigger, all of the built up energy and force burst free of the cannon, the recoil slightly denting Deckard’s shoulder. Aside from some minor pain, Deckard felt amazing. The wolves on the other hand had very little to feel after the shockwave expelled from the end of the triangular barrel sent them flying back into a few different trees, breaking their ‘spines’ and shattering their wooden plates and spraying pale green sap everywhere. Even if they’d hit something softer, the impact of the wave itself was enough to break several key bones in their wooden structure; they were doomed the minute Deckard fired.

“Down n’ out!” John cheered as he reloaded his LMG, the spent rounds littering the ground like the dead bodies of the wolves surrounding him. The wolves had tried to surround him, confusing his dense metal armour for his flesh, and charge him all at once while he he gunned down one of their pack brothers. Instead, when his H.U.D alerted him to their imminent attack, he held onto his light machine gun in his left hand and his revolver in his right. Looking in between the two waves of five or so wolves, he opened fire and didn’t let up until AP rounds had torn through their plated skin and pulverising their organs or his revolver’s green laser rounds had blasted straight through their bodies, killing them instantly and setting their innards on fire. After ten seconds of continuous fire, he’d let go of the triggers. Both barrels were smoking heavily from prolonging fire, if it weren’t for his masks filters he’d have breathed in the putrid stench of the battlefield; the grimy smell of blood, spent ammunition, burnt plant life and acidic formula breaking down the native wildlife weren’t anything new to many of the soldiers and some had even come to love it.

“Ceasefire, ceasefire!” Grayson ordered, releasing his finger from the massive trigger of the four-barreled, plasma throwing auto-cannon, the roaring of the gun swiftly being silenced. The sudden skirmish had lasted for about a minute and a half and aside from some scratches and clawed at armour, none of the crew had been injured or killed. The wolves on the other hand had been obliterated. The floor of the forest was scorched black and patches of fire quickly engulfed some of the wolf corpses, turning them into dark green ash. The organs of said wolves seemed to pulse with an unknown energy.

“Collecting unknown samples for analysis…” 366 informed as he and a few other Machina crew members began scooping up body parts, organs, piles of ashes and a whole, mostly intact, native wolf and placing them in clear, sanitary containers with multiple warnings on them.

“Well, that could’ve gone better. Let’s set these turrets up and...Wait, what the hell is...Oh shit!” A.D.a.M cried out in shock, along with a few other guardsman and engineers as they saw the multiple chunks and body parts of the destroyed wolves begin hovering and float towards a massive, glowing pile.

“Commander Grayson, are you seeing this?!” John questioned as he reloaded his rifle and got behind cover along with the rest of the soldiers as it began forming a massive, disfigured wolf.

“I can confirm that we have visual contact…” Grayson reported, completely dumbstruck.

“How is this...Thing able to do this? Unless…” Deckard pondered as he examined the piles of unmoving bodies and the colossal, three feet tall abomination. “All of the bodies that aren’t moving were...Yes! Of course! Conventional ballistic rounds won’t finish it off! All Units, switch to incendiary, plasma or laser rounds!” Deckard advised, proud of his sudden burst of brilliance. Just as the beast finalized its transformation, the scouts either changed their chosen ammunition or switched to explosives. With a mighty stomp and primal, blood curdling roar the monster examined them with pure malice. Its left eye was caved in, its left hind leg was broken in several places, its tail was nonexistent and its chest was cracked. As it shook unstably, flecks of its bark-like skin fell off in clumps.

“What the fuck…” John dumbfoundedly cursed as every cannon, gun, explosive and newly programmed turrets locked onto the abomination.

“Open fire!” Grayson, once again, commanded as everyone simultaneously fired on the beast as it pounced onto the APC and picked it up relatively effortlessly in its dislocated maw.

“Oh fuck!” A.D.a.M cried out as it tried to sank its teeth deep into the bay of the carrier, tossing around the occupants while its efforts cracked the cockpit windows. Meanwhile a barrage of multicoloured lasers and plasma rounds tore into the hardened flesh.

“What the styx is this thing made of!?” Sam cried as she locked onto the native monster and began letting loose a torrent of blue, searing lasers that quickly began burning through the top of its head. WIth a pained yelp it dropped the APC, but not before it stomped on its back and clawed into it.

“Keep up the fire!” Grayson demanded as he continued to fire at the thing, now aiming for its weak spot. Although the beast was mighty, it couldn’t withstand a continued barrage from all fronts and quickly ran into the woods after decimating the APC, parts of the creature either melting off in acidic blobs, torn through like swiss cheese, or simply burning in small spouts of flame.

“Unit A.D.a.M, are you alright?” Deckard inquired as he ran up to the heavily scratched and dented APC. The outside looked battered but it’d take more then that to decommission a Hydra.

“Yeah, just fuckin’ peachy. Can someone help me? The prick fucked up the cockpit and I can’t open the door.” A.D.a.M requested as Deckard charged his force cannon to a safe, non-lethal level.

“Step away from the door.” Deckard ordered as he brought his weapon to bear.

“Not like I can move!” A.D.a.M yelled angrily as it waited for someone to do something. After three seconds of charging, Deckard let go of the trigger. The door blasted open, hanging onto its hinges loosely and the door itself bent wildly.

“Thanks, now please help unplug me; that wolf thing fucked me up.” A.D.a.M begged as it sat limp in the driver's seat. The Machina was a weirdly designed bot, an experiment gone right between the Engineers and A.D.a.M. After the bipedal Machina lost its legs at Novaguard it asked the Southern Cross’ Head Engineer MAG if they could retrofit a pair of tank treads to the bottom of its torso. It worked a bit and now this pure white robot with blue racing stripes down his torso, a black aviator jacket, aviator helmet with the visor down, human like arms and wide, somewhat rusted steel tank treads at the bottom of his torso slapped onto his stump. From the back of his rectangular, nearly featureless face was a small hatch that was opened, his helmet ‘modified’ with a cut out hole that allowed a massive, blue cable that ran out of its skull and connect to the cockpits panel. As Deckard could see, something had gone wrong and A.D.a.M was locked in place. His caterpillar treads were still clamped in place but for some reason the APC wasn’t letting him unplug from it.

“This looks bad…” Deckard summarized as he examined the treads and the cord. He couldn’t yank him out of the APCs control panel, that could scramble A.D.a.M’s mind, but if he didn’t get rid of the clamps he’d have to.

“Ground team, what’s your status? Over.” Grayson asked as he watched the massive wooden beast run in fear.

“Well, the APC seems undrivable and A.D.a.M is stuck in the cockpit. We’re gonna need an air lift out of here. Over.” John reported as he surveyed the burnt clearing, intact turrets and pylon, damaged personal carrier and the trail of crushed trees and bushes that marked the giant, combined native wolf.

“Copy that, beginning our...Hold on...What the hell is that?” Sam interrupted herself as she, along with her Macina co-pilot, spotted something massive approaching from the other side of the expansive forest to the north just over the horizon. Coming from the towering mountains, was a colossal, flying creature.

“Now what?” Grayson complained as he looked out the side of the Griffin and locked eyes on the approaching creature.

It rapidly approached, its massive wingspan and impressive, scaly body quickly obscuring the horizon as it noticed the much smaller VTOL.

“Holy shit...Are you seeing this?” Sam questioned as everyone became aware of the fairy tale beast in front of them.

Closing in on their position was a colossal, blue and black scaled dragon with gargantuan, cracked horns and large, slitted orange eyes that stared at the VTOL hungrily.

“Sir? It’s heading right for us…” Sam stated nervously as she ascended slightly to hover over its projected flight path, the beast responded by changing altitudes and speeding up.

“Oh crap, open fire! Shoot that thing out of the sky!” Grayson cried as the VTOLs lasers and cannons fired onto the beast. Although the lasers scorched the surface of the dragon’s scales and the cannons explosive rounds blasted chunks of its scaly hide off, it still flew forward with vigor, bellowing a mighty roar. As it neared Sam performed a multitude of commands that allowed the VTOL to narrowly avoid the dragon’s open maw in a nauseating sideways strafe.

“Command, this is Grayson requesting immediate anti-air support! An unknown dragon-like creature is attacking our VTOL!” He reported to the Southern Cross.

“Copy that Commander, arming the anti-air batteries; paint the target and clear the kill zone.” A female voice ordered as Sam began trying to avoid the beast taking sweeps and attempting to bite the small craft while Daniel marked it through his helmet's H.U.D. Meanwhile on the Southern Cross, the entire port side of the ship began lighting up like a Christmas tree. Multiple anti-air cannons, lasers, missile pods, mortars and turrets were starting up while Machina crew on standby and Human gunners took their positions or plugged in. The sides of the ship were bathed in noise as defense and offense systems powered up over a longer period of time. Panels slid off the side of the ship and long barrels of different length, shape and design slowly began crawling out while locking onto the marked target.

“Raven-1, be advised, you’re in the kill zone!” The officer on the other end cried while Sam struggled desperately to evade the beast closing in on her and her crew.

“I know, Styx damn it! I can’t shake the fuc-shit!” Sam screamed as the gargantuan creature swung its intimidating tail around and smashed it into the back of the VTOL, shaking it wildly and damaging the main engines.

“Crap! Not good!” Sam stated as she lowered the blast shields and closed off the sides of the VTOL, bringing the Commander and another Shock Trooper inside as the massive plates slammed down. Sam did her best to stabilize the VTOL as it began descending rapidly, she tried to damage the swiftly approaching dragon.

“Eat this, you bloody lizard!” She yelled as she fired upon the dragon. Due to just how close it was and how big of a target it was, two or so lasers hit home in its left eye and violently blinded it while burning the entire organ. As it stopped and began screeching loudly in pain, it gave the VTOL enough time to get far enough away from it mid frenzy.

“Friendly has left the kill zone, stations 1 through 10 open fire!” The Officer ordered. Throughout the Everfree Forest, the Silver Mountains and a few distant towns in Equestria the sound of massive cannons firing, missiles soaring and gigantic lasers firing overpowered everything else. A fiery barrage of death and destruction impacted onto the Dragon. The laser's scorched the outer scales and ignited a few large clumps, huge explosive shells tore into the fatty layers of tissue and fat underneath the shining blue scales and the missiles hit home deep inside the gaping wounds. The Everfree Forest was showered in bloody chunks of burning meat of various sizes, blackened scales and charred dragon bones, eventually followed by the partially annihilated corpse of the formerly mighty beast crashing destructively into the foliage.

“Target is K.I.A, I repeat, target is K.I.A! Raven-1 do you copy? Over.”

“This is Commander Grayson, our main engine was hit by the unknown native. We’re on a collision course with a swamp in the unexplored forest, ov-”

“Brace!” Sam warned over the Commander’s report, the sound of a crash silencing the coms.

“Raven-1 do you copy? Commander Grayson, report!” The Officer questioned after a long pause, but received no response. “Drone-5, are you there? Respond!”

“This is Heavy Assault Trooper Xexes, we’ve set up the outpost but we were attacked by unknown natives. We’re fine and the outpost is mostly intact, but our APC is totaled and our driver had to be removed from his clamps forcefully, he’s in no condition to transport us. We have no idea what happened to our air support, we lost visual contact after something flew over us. I’m going to assume those explosions were the Southern Cross responding?” John reported, pausing for a moment. “We need an immediate air extraction. Over.” He added as he surveyed the ground team. A.D.a.M was in rough shape, after removing its tank threads from the clamp they had to power it down so they could transport him safely. The Machina/Hybrid soldiers from Hivemind were intact but the scientists and field engineers were shaken up from the encounter.

“We’re able to send three Griffons to pick up the repair team, but we need you and a few others to investigate Raven-1’s crash site and rescue any survivors. A large, airborne, native creature knocked them out of the sky and the air team can’t land near the swamp they landed in, the foliage is too thick.” The Officer filled in. If anyone could see John’s face, they’d know instantly he was shocked at the news.

“We’ll head out right away Command, how far did they crash?” John asked as he quickly reloaded his rifle and checked his sidearm.

“Three klicks north east of your A.O. We suggest a small, fast squad with a field engineer and a few soldiers.” The Officer informed.

“Jonathan, I volunteer for the mission.” Deckard called out as he rested A.D.a.M’s body, sans legs, on a box to avoid mud or water in his exposed circuits and wires.

“Understand new mission parameters - search and rescue of downed air support.” Unit 366 paused briefly. “New mission parameters accepted.” 366 informed as he quickly topped off the Chemtrail rifle acid tank and checked his ammo.  As the two operatives stepped forward, so did two female Hybrid scouts and a Machina field medic, all three wearing the standard armour for Hivemind field operatives, jungle camouflaged nanofiber armour, armoured hoods, night vision goggles resting on their heads and dark green balaclavas. The only difference on the bipedal Machina’s uniform were the small red crosses on the armour plates resting over its ‘shoulders’.

“Roger that Command, we’re heading out immediately.” John ordered as the remaining security force watched them leave.

“New operation risk assessment… level 4. Considerable caution is advised.” 366 warned as his sensors began scanning the dark forest for movement.

“Always liked a challenge.” Deckard mumbled under his breath as he recharged the Tempest.

“Don’t worry guys, we’re coming…” John said under his breath as he and the small team jogged into the woods, their heavy metal feet and boots thumping and crunching in the dirt, following the indicator on their H.U.Ds of the rough location of the crash site. John vowed he wasn’t going to let Sam and Dan and his team die on some rock, he knew they were still alive.

They had to be...

This fucking foreword. -Anon, the editor.

*Friendo hijacked PC, Couldn’t be bothered to delete it. - LPC the Mastermind.

Foreword written by the esteemed Pequod.

JOHN CENA appeared from the wreckage. Or did he? No one could be sure, for they could not perceive the JOHN, they could only feel the presence, bask in the glow of his glory. He flexed, creating a shockwave that echoed amongst the valley walls, scaring all the critters back to their nests and caves. He took a step, the trees trembling, leaves shaking and falling to the lush green grass. JOHN could sense, he could FEEL, this was his home. He breathed in deep, and opened his mouth.

“MY TIME IS NOW!”

Trumpets played, the earth shook, the skies lit up with lightning.

Chapter 4: Chain Reactions (Unedited)

Chapter 4: Chain reactions.

Darkness...Sirens...Static and a freezing, searing cold surrounding me...Not a great way to wake up from cryosleep.

“C-C-C-CoooOOoorrpppp---Edw...Yle.Y-Y-Y-YOOOOO…Des-s-tinn-nn-aation...WARNI-I-I-I:...M-Multiple hull fract-...Live support...Power rapidly-seek technical and...Immediately!” A loud, cracked and distorted voice blared at me before suddenly dying as the hatch on the front of my pod slowly, loudly and violently snapped open and off onto the floor with a dramatically loud clang. Aside from a loud, grating sound similar to crunching metal and a giant plume of dust nothing else was moving or making a sound.

“Gah...W-What happened?” I asked myself as I slowly regained control of my shaking body and scanned the dark, barely lit room. There was nothing in here. The other pods were broken, decaying or missing, evident from the large chunks of metal and circuitry lying limp on the floor. The door to the room was barely open allowing, a sliver of silver, faded light to seep in. As I fell out of the pod and onto the floor with a loud outcry of agony next to my pod’s door I realized something was horribly wrong. I’d need more than a technician to fix this mess. As I rose to my ungainly feet I feverishly checked the pods next to me.

“God...No, no, no, no, no! Please god no!” I shouted out in despair, pain and anguish overpowering my confusing and delirium. In the heavily damaged and dimly lit cryostasis pod rested a beautiful, sleeping woman with perfect hair and features...She was the love of my life, but as I whipped the dust off of the small electronic panel my fears where confirmed.

‘Sierra Doyle, 27, spouse of Edwin Doyle, current status: deceased. WARNING: power loss imminent.’ (What the fuck is this,Fallout 4?)

I could barely move, think or speak. Shock and misery overpowered my sense and I just...collapsed and fell onto the broken pod behind me, my body feeling like it was going numb. Nothing was right...This was meant to be a new life, a new start away from the war. Away from everything, away from all this. How did it all go so horribly wrong...I don’t know how long I sat there in disarray, my eyes bloodshot and tears staining my plain white singlet, but I tried desperately to stand up and continue on. I couldn’t give up here, surrounded by dust, debris and darkness. I stood up, walked back to her pod and searched for the emergency release latch. It was designed to snap off the pods door but could harm or cause the people inside to go brain dead, but clearly neither were an issue anymore. After finding the rusted, fire red handle I pulled it out shakingly and stepped back as the pod door detached itself and fell to the floor like my own. With quivering hands, I caught her body and softly rested her on the floor. Her body was cold to the touch, covered in small ice crystals, and lifeless, but her crimson hair, delicate features and cheerful smile seemed all too real and alive. I tried so hard to take off the golden, ruby encrusted ring I gave her and eventually it came off but it felt almost wrong to change her appearance in anyway, and my stomach churned nauseatingly.

“I’m so sorry...God, it should’ve been me…” I lamented as I cradled her pale body and weeped. I couldn’t leave her here, not like this, but I still had no idea where I was and as much as it pained me to leave her behind even temporarily. With equal amounts of hesitation and regret I softly rested her on the floor with her hands resting on her body. I was going to come back for her, I refused to let her rot away on a dust covered grated floor in nothing but a singlet and underwear. Looking around, I could confirm that every other pod in the room was either destroyed somehow, abandoned or had brain dead crew members inside...With a sense of relief and dread I saw my son’s was empty. It was the only other pod that was both open and not in a state of disrepair. Slowly, I walked up to it and examined its panel.

‘Charlie Doyle, 12, son of Edwin and Sierra Doyle, current status: Awoken.’

If he had awakened before me, where was he? His pod was empty and from the looks of the small room no one had been here for years...

I couldn’t stand in the dark and wait for answers to come to me, so I walked over to the busted door and slowly forced it all the way open and flooded the room with light, making me shield my eyes to let them adjust. The hallway outside the room was barely brighter than the one I woke up in but it was something. The once pale white panels and blue doors were either stained and rusted or had fallen off and exposed the rooms and wiring behind them. As I walked down the long corridor, stepping over any debris I can upon, I looked into every room and noticed they were all empty and all pitch black. There was no noise sans my own footsteps and breathing, even the seemingly ever present hum of the reactor and engine was silent. The silence rang in my ears. As I walked forward I came across a corridor intersection. Behind me were the various rooms for multiple purposes and the cryostasis chamber, in front of me rested the bridge behind a sealed door, to my left an open door leading into the decontamination chamber and beyond that...I had no clue. What had once been the hallway to the kitchen and below the engine room was collapsed and full of jagged rubble, loose wiring and...What looked like a crushed skeleton with scraps of clothing left on it. With nowhere else to go I walked up to the bridge door and was happy, if surprised, when the door opened when I approached it.

Like the rest of the ship, the bridge was empty. The once cramped cockpit and control room of the ship, barely able to seat four people, had a single skeleton in the pilot’s seat...Along with a dust coated laser rifle in it’s skeletal hands. The dashboard was layered with dust and completely dead...Aside from a single flashing light next to a small digital panel that said ‘three incoming transmissions from: Earth command center.’ With nothing else to do, I sat down in the chair behind the pilot’s, wiped the dust off and pressed play all.

“This is General Adam Summers to the crew of the U.S.A.F Second Sun congratulating you on your brave and daring mission; if I’m unlucky then you’ve all probably gone into cryostasis for the long journey ahead of you and if that’s the case then it’ll be a long time before you hear this. The war is going well back on the homefront, the so called ‘Royal Trade Armada’ has been sieging a few colonies on Mars and her moons but they can’t go anywhere near Earth, not while Luna base still stands. Don’t worry, when you wake up there’ll still be a world and a home standing behind you waiting for you to either make contact or for us to send in some new colonists. We all wish you and your families a safe and fast journey, eh at least you’ll be able to sleep through the war while we’re stuck doing all the hard work. General Adam Summers ending transmission, log date: October, 28, 2257.” The distorted and cracked voice said finally. With a sigh, I hoped they’d send help or more colonists to wherever we are. I prayed that I wasn’t stranded in deep space and listened as the next message played.

“This is General Adam Summers to the U.S.A.F Second Sun, protocol Black Dwarf; I repeat, protocol Black Dwarf is in effect! The Trade Armada somehow bypassed the Luna base and it’s defenses and have attacked America directly! As I speak I can hear their constant bombardments. Washington is gone and everywhere between Maine to Alabama has fallen, most of the East Coast is either under siege or has been captured or scorched. We’ve received no word as to the current state of our colonies or our allies planetside but we imagine it’s the same overseas as it is here. We’re fighting off these traitors as best we can but for now radio silence is in effect, until we broadcast the all clear you’re not to contact us or any colonies and ships located within the solar system or it’s surrounding colonies. Don’t worry, we’ll beat these bastards off our world and take their flagship down; you’ve still got a planet waiting for you. General Adam Summers ending transmission, log date: February, 4, 2258.” The message ended in a tired and worried tone. The idea that my home world and my country was under attack was terrifying and a pit of fear opened up in my stomach, I hoped that the next and final message was an all-clear and a notice that the war was over…

“This is the Archduke Vladimir Zigfried of the Royal Trade Armada to the unknown crew of the Second Sun, Earth has fallen under the Empire’s jurisdiction and the United States of America has been annexed completely; your country and her leaders are no more. If you do not transmit your location and your destination to us we will register you and your crew as hostile holdouts of the American military and fire on sight but if you agree to cooperate and join us peacefully we will send trade ships and supplies to your fledgling outpost or ship. You’ve been granted an offering of peace and a place among the Imperial colonies, I’d suggest you strongly consider your options. Archduke Zigfried ending transmission, log date: September, 13, 2258.”

So that was it, Earth was now in their hands and the chain of command was gone. There’s no one coming to help me and since the ship looks beyond repairable I doubted I’d even be able to communicate with them or send out an S.O.S…

There was nothing left to go home to. Earth, Sierra, Charlie...All gone. No, Charlie had to be still out there, his pod was empty so that means he had to still be around...Wherever I am. Barely able to walk straight, I stood up and walked towards the decontamination chamber. Before I walked into the padded, secured room I walked up to a small doorway near the doorway and inputted the ship’s storage room password and stepped inside. The room was mostly untouched despite the layers of dust over seemingly everything. The room was one of many near the exit of the small ship and as such it didn’t take me long to find my family’s lockbox. The small vault was quickly losing power and as such I didn’t waste time to input the small 4 digit password and opened it up. The inside of the box was full of personal momentos, clothing, charlie’s toys and my old equipment. I slowly and carefully pulled out all of the safe's contents. A small photo of all three of us and the dog we had to leave behind, hopefully Jack found him a new owner...Hopefully Jack was still alive. A few of Charlie’s old toys he couldn’t live without, I figured he’d want them back when I found them so I pulled a large backpack out of the preserved and completely sealed vault and placed his toy cars, baseball, plastic dinosaurs and the handheld console thing he kept playing...Before I seized up in memory, I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and placed the toys carefully at the bottom of the bag. I pulled out my wife’s old golden necklace...She wouldn’t need it anymore and she wouldn’t want it rusting on an abandoned ship so I delicately placed the small chain necklace around my neck and placed her ring on it like a pendent, keeping it above my collarbone. The rest of it was mostly Sierra’s and Charlie’s sentimental mementos, they weren’t really noteworthy but they meant something to them and that was good enough of a reason for me to save them for both of their sakes. All of the smaller, personal items were gone and all that was left were my old armour supplies the higher ups allowed me to bring.

I grasped my brown and green military fatigues, complete with grey polymer and kevlar armour strapped on and placed over the arms, legs and chest like plates of armour. The helmet was still intact and although the batteries were dead, rendering the flashlight strapped to the side of it redundant, it would still save me from falling debris or a bullet if the Trade Armada came for me and this pile of nothing. The fatigues fit snugly yet didn’t weigh me down or make me feel warm or uncomfortable. My old military boots were still in tip-top shape thanks to the airtight and shock proof lockbox. I quickly pulled out my leather utility belt containing multiple pouches for supplies and tools. The tools would need inspection for slight damage but they were still mostly usable. Aside from my old clothes, helmet, utility belt and boots my rifle also rested inside.

‘Ol Reliable was a standard issue serviceman rifle capable of long ranged combat and accuracy while also offering little recoil thanks to its utilization of the relatively old laser weapon systems. The frame of the gun was made of grey metal making it a decent club when it was out of juice, but the boxy barrel, capacitors and focussing lens at the end of the long barrel were dark green and dull yellow. The capacitor was overcharged causing it to do greater damage and burn through layers of armour by consuming more energy, the stock was padded and thick causing it to absorb most of the recoil and making it measurably easier to fire. The small, 1x scope at the top of the gun was still intact despite a small dent in the side of its metal frame. I grabbed the rifle and placed it on my shoulder using the leather strap connected to its stock and the underside of the barrel. The A9 rifle was considered the standard of the US army and it was built to last on any front line or frontier.

I pocketed the multiple spare capacitors and estimated they would give me about 360 shots before I’d have to find someway to recharge them. Along with the rifle I’d also packed a standard, if antiquated, wrist mounted personal computer that most people simply called a WMPDA. It was bulky, weighed my hand down slightly and could break a jawbone or two if I’d hit someone with it but it allowed me to check my vitals, time of day and so much more. I couldn’t live without it...And it was dead. Thankfully it was solar powered and hopefully we’d crash landed on an alien world and not a rock in outer space. With nothing else to stand between me leaving, I quickly walked outside and into the decontamination room. The circular, padded room was in rough shape but still did its job. All of the ‘walker’ suits, oxygen tanks and rebreathers were gone so I hoped to God the air was breathable. As I approached the exit of the ship I was incredibly relieved when I saw the small, barely lit panel was still powered and showed me that the air outside was breathable and the door still had power. Pressing the panel, I stepped back and watched the door ascend slowly. I tried to keep my breathing even as I watched sunlight shine in.

The outside world was...Stunning. Our ship, The ‘U.S.A.F Second Sun’, had crash landed in a small clearing in what looked like the outskirts of a massive forest. The trees were dark purple and the leaves a almost blueish shade, the sky was so familiar yet completely alien, the mountains that bordered the forest and went on far behind me seemed to pierce the sky and the ground felt so...Normal. Everything felt normal, not at all like the alien world so many of us had imagined and dreamed of conquering in the name of our old, fallen country. Everything seemed so familiar yet everything was radically different. As I scanned the forest I saw something that would’ve caused even the most hardened soldier to step back in shock and fear, a gigantic, heavily armed and armoured Royal Trade Ship unlike anything the United States, nay, no country or colony could’ve built. Despite being further on the horizon and entrenched in a bold forest that looked ready to swallow it up I could clearly see it in the morning light.

“W-What the fuck…” I muttered in alarm and fear. Nothing I’d ever seen could have amounted to this...Behemoth.The thing was easily ten times bigger than the our greatest destroyer. the weapons I could make out were years ahead of anything I’d seen before and glowed intensely. The ship must have crashlanded because there was no way in Styx they could make it land and take off without some kind of assistance. On the side of the ship in big, bold white lettering was the name of the ship ‘The R.A.D.C Southern Cross’ in English, what I assumed to be Chinese, what looked like binary code and some strange, tribal looking symbols and runes. Along with the name there was a large emblem of a large raven bearing a sword and scroll in set in front of a kite shield with a line of latin writing beneath it. Neither of these things seemed standard for the Royal Trade Armada, but then again nothing about that day had been standard. Tearing my eyes away from the colossal ship I examined my own ship and I was perplexed once more as I examined the outside of the broken ship. The inside might’ve been falling apart, but the outside had been ensnared by nature. Panels of metal were thickly covered in moss and blooming wildlife, the reinforced windows were covered by wood and some strange, blue weeds and the ship's name was beyond recognition. Either the planet’s vegetation grew at an alarming rate or I’d been asleep for much, much longer than I’d previously thought.

With nothing else to do and with no direction I checked the floor for track or a faded trail and, just as I was hoping, there was an old, imprinted track of what looked like footsteps and...Hooves? They weren’t natural horse tracks, they were far too small and different, much more rounded, but it was the closest I could compare it too. The tracks led into the surrounding foliage; I turned my rifle on, steadied my breathing and walked into the otherworldly forest, towards the enemy ship, in pursuit of what was left of my broken life.

I’m coming, Son, don’t you worry…

Hidden by layers of dense plant life, mud and other bits of woodland scenery, four sets of slitted eyes peered deep into the overgrown foliage, closely observing the approaching figures. The deafening roars that awoke the slumbering hive angered the Queen immensely and she demanded whom or whatever caused it to answer for their threat and possible damage to the fledgling community. They may’ve been smaller and malnourished compared to the others but this particular hive were renowned for their skill in reconnaissance and stealth. And so, they and dozens more were sent out well equipped and fed to seek out whatever caused such sonorous noises, and it didn’t take them long to find the great...Metal hive that had seemingly appeared along with its massive glowing walls. The thing towered above the trees and animals below it and if the reports from the other packs were accurate then it was also capable of destroying dragons, the bane of all unaware or new hives.

Most of the packs were now observing the hive from great distances and studying the bizarre and diverse beings that emerged from within, many were pale or fleshy creatures with strange metallic limbs or features but there were also walking trees and impressive, non-organic creatures that acted similarly to the ‘carriages’ the Equestrians loved so much. They were so alien and unnatural yet familiar and unique, when the Queen heard this she became deeply intrigued and amused; she demanded an audience with their Queen and as such had sent them to find out what their Queen looked like and if it would be possible to commune with her. As one might expect, the eyes wouldn’t be able to go within their hive, but reports from other packs suggested a small band of these interlopers were travelling into the nearby marshlands and they weren’t wrong.

“They look so shiny…” One of the eyes clicked, it's impressed tone echoing through their collective thoughts. There were a few large, metal creatures adorned in camouflage that poorly disguised them, some of the walking trees, a drone that looked like an amalgamation of flesh and metal and two larger, brawnier metal drones. One had layers of chitin and plates covering it and the other looked a lot more exposed and protected at the same time. The figues had been trailing these drones for about half an hour but this was the closest they'd gotten to them without them somehow sensing them.

“They seem formidable.” Another one hissed in suspicion and concern. They'd witnessed the aftermath of the dragon attack. And the figures knew full well the dangers posed by attacking it...they needed to wait for a chance to approach them.

“We much keep watching them, these drones are quite peculiar.” One set ordered as they slowly crept along the marsh floor, far behind them but close enough to see them growing more and more alert to something.

“Be advised: We are being followed.” 366 repeated around 30 seconds after a previous warning, quickly irritating the other members of the small party. With the Chemtrail rifle in it’s hands readily heated, every now and then a leaf or two from the surrounding foliage would onto the top of the rifle where it would promptly be either instantly seared black on one side, or almost completely disintegrate, both leaving a small plume of smoke to curl upwards from the point of contact.

“We know Robo, you’ve told us multiple times.” John mumbled in annoyance as he checked over his shoulders and clearly saw....Something morph into the fog covered landscape.

“Our route is unnecessarily tedious, we could’ve simply carved a way through the swamps.” Deckard suggested, bored and quickly growing agitated by the large and peculiar bugs that had taken a liking to his exposed face.

“The Imperium’s colonial code clearly states we’re not to disrupt the native ecosystem unless we have to or it’s for the betterment of the Empire, so no we’re not aiming your cannon at the treeline so your feet don’t bilster.” Xexes reminded as he checked to make sure he was topped off on rounds.

“Okay for one, I don’t have feet that blister anymore, they’re cybernetic, and two, a team of shock troopers were shot down near here; if that isn’t dire enough then I do not know what is.” Deckard countered as he scanned the shallow swamp near the tiny group and became increasingly suspicious of a black lump in the water.

“It’s a Griffon VTOL, they’re built to withstand crashes like that and lock up to prevent injury to the occupants; if we burnt our way through the woods we’d only make the situation worse.” John stubbornly retorted, hiding his worrying thoughts.

“Be advised: We are bei-”

“We know 366, please stop-”

“Be advised: Persistent, unknown entities are observing us…” 366 dryly continued, cutting off the Machina medic. “Recommend immediate offensive action.” It continued as the scouting party faced where the unit had highlighted on the group’s collective map using its sensors. Just as soon as they turned to the marker the pale green eyes blinked out of existence without a sound or a single leaf rustled.

“What the Styx…” A female Hybrid muttered curiously as they turned back to the trail and kept walking while 366 would silently point out any anomalies only for them to vanish instantly.

“I suggest we grab the Commander and get the fuck out of here, the less time we have to spend in these damn swamps the better.” The medic stated as they closed in on the crashed VTOL.

“Well put.” Deckard simply said in response, barely paying attention to him as he begrudgingly stepped into the murky, green and brown water of the swamp and waded through the thick water. A few dozen yards ahead, illuminated by a massive ray of light piercing through the treetops, rested the smashed up craft; smoke billowed from the damaged engines and the panels and windows were sealed tight. It’d swerved through the branches and leaves and had crashed into the center of a mostly shallow bog and aside from the occasional splash of something crawling out of the murky waters or the sound of something snapping down on a bug or technicolored fish it was mostly silent as the band approached.

“Robocop, keep an eye out.” Xexes ordered as Deckard approached the side of the VTOL with a large plasma cutter in hand.

“Affirmative.” It agreed as it turned around and raised its rifle, scanning the large bog keenly while the various Hybrid and Machina crew aided in removing the emergency panels.

“...Something’s approaching fast!” John alerted rhetorically as a rhythmic pounding drew closer and closer, the team reeling and readying their weapons.

“Empress damn it! Not again.” A Hybrid cursed as he pulled out his plasma rifle and searched for the sound of the noise.

“Alert: Unknown entity within 30 yards of-” 366’s notification was cut off by the sound of what sounded like lasers discharging and a primal wolf cry.

“What the Styx? We should be the only soldiers out here!” the field medic said with a confused tone as Deckard continued his work of cutting a hole into the ship.

“Keep your guard up, that thing is still approaching.” Xexes ordered as everyone took cover behind either the downed craft or a rock protruding from the water.

After a series of roars, laser fire and what sounded like bugs flying away the giant wolf monster from before burst into the marsh; it seemed to be in distress as four large, chitin plated and...laser firing bug things swooped it while staying away from its massive claws.

“What are those!?” A Hybrid scout asked in alarm as she aimed for the wolf and fired.

“Don’t know, don’t care; if they’re pissed at the beast then I guess they’re on our side for now!” The heavy assault trooper rationalized as he laid suppressive fire on the beast causing it to stumble into laser and plasma fire that quickly scorched or melted its wooden body.

“Operative: Deckard, status update?” 366 inquired as it quickly calculated a pin-point strike and tore a hole through the left shoulder of the monster using it’s high powered rifle; the beast stumbled over allowing two of the newly discovered natives to fire two small beams of energy into its right eye, blinding the frenzied wolf.

“Almost ther-” The augmented engineer was interrupted by the panel sliding off and revealing the inside of the small VTOL. The crew seemed mostly conscious, there were one or two shock troopers that must’ve hit their head on something but aside from minor injuries and damage to their armour they were fine. Upon opening the impromptu door a scuffed up and bleeding Commander and pilot stumble out, gun in hand and more than a little dizzy.

“About time you lot showed up, Command said you guys were coming but they didn’t mention you were dragging your damn feet.” Sam complained as she leveled her sidearm, an automatic plasma pistol with an extended barrel and magazine, at the roaring primitive and opened fire.

“We came as fast as we could Sam!” John yelled over his continuous fire, his mask hiding his cheerful expression at seeing his friend by his side.

“Do better next time trooper.” Daniel simply said as he crouched down behind a log, levelled his rifle and firing controlled bursts that ignited wooden lumps periodically. As the rescue team continued their attack, more and more Shock Troopers filled out of the crashed craft and took up position anywhere they could; the small pieces of land around the craft or any loose piece of cover were quickly taken as the marsh was filled with smoke, laser ignited fires and thunderous noise while the four, strange oversized bug things disengaged the monster as it roared and charged the band of soldiers.

“Rogers, light it up!” Commander Grayson ordered as a heavily armoured, pack mule of a soldier ran to the front of the firing line, grabbed the massive, white and black missle launcher off his pack and slung it on his burly shoulder.

The powerful launcher was almost a perfect cylinder with a large trigger and handle at the front and a padded rest for the user’s shoulder, a square, holographic screen extended from the side of the tube and was positioned in front of the user’s left eye, it was used to lock onto a target of some kind and alert the user of anything ranging from an ammo count or malfunctions with the weapon. The weapons exterior had a large vent at the back and along the left side of the launcher to expel excess heat after firing a missile. Atop the missile, a large port for feeding the instrument various missiles, which Rogers quickly shoved a large, silver rocket propelled cluster bomb into.

“Locked on…” He simply stated as he aimed for the left front leg, hoping that one good shot to the heavily damaged limb would either kill or incapacitate it. As he braced himself, he pulled down on the trigger and let loose a massive missile at the monster rapidly approaching the platoon. Due to the intense, continued barrage aimed at it’s head from the gathered soldiers it was unable to see the burning missile. Right before it impacted with the smashed limb, the missile split off into multiple smaller pieces and devastated the blistered appendage; the wolf yelped in agony as it smashed into the bog, unable to stay upright with only three legs. The missing leg was split apart instantly, green gooey blood and viscera flew all over the marsh, large chunks of wooden flesh crashed into the treeline and blood spraying out of it’s veins rapidly congealed and attempted to stem the loss of blood.

“Cease fire, cease fire!” The Commander ordered as everyone halted and began reloading. “The scientists will no doubt want a living specimen to study and I think this is as lively as it’s going to get.” He continued as he looked around the marsh for any sight of the strange bugs from before but found nothing.

“Heh, hell of a day huh?” Sam asked John as she sat down and rested on a tree stump as her buddy replaced his box magazine.

“Starting to feel like home. Are you alright? That was a Styx of a fall.” John asked, his voice a mixture of concern and excitement from the recent firefight.

“I’m fine, just a few scrapes and bruises.” She replied with a smile as she pulled a cigarette out of the pack hidden in her pocket. “Fuck, I really liked that Griffon...So how’re we getting back to the ship? Seems like a hell of a hike back to base.” She inquired as Deckard examined the clearing.

“They said they couldn’t land because of the foliage, so we simply need to clear them a landing zone big enough for multiple Griffons and something to transport that wooden abomination.” the engineer answered as he began charging his force cannon.

“Hm, seems reasonable enough. Alright boys, no rest for the wicked, we gotta clear some of these trees so Command can send in an evac. If you can still walk or don’t have a concussion then you’re helping.” Grayson ordered as he began sizing up trees either small enough for his axe or big enough for his rifle.

“New operation sub-parameters accepted.” 366 announced as it walked into the small wreckage of the Griffon and searched for the few survival kits included within many of them. It didn’t take it long for it to find the protected kits and began searching for the necessary tool within; it was rare for a crew member or expedition team to be stranded planetside but when they were they were given all the tools necessary to survive long enough for someone to find them, and an ax capable of chopping down trees was tantamount to surviving for long periods of time. 366 barely registered the small, barely big enough, red ax as it stepped outside and joined the crew members chopping down trees while the recovered crew members either rested or joined in.

As the small platoon of tired and injured soldiers got to work four set of slitted eyes watched them from afar, greatly enthralled.

“My lord, progress is moving swiftly along and I suspect we will have a proper perimeter established before nightfall.” My uptight and kind of annoying Guard Captain informed me with a salute as he looked down at me. The older, wiser, and rather threatening man stood a foot taller than me but in his armour that number rose to almost two. Like all of the Royal Guards his armour was heavily built, durable and opulent but he radiated a sense of stoic strength and order that reflected on those around him.

The noticeable differences between the Captain and his acolytes, aside from extensive training and a much more empowering presence, was his armour and weapons. His armour was layered in thick and reinforced silver plates capable of deflecting almost all projectiles and melee weaponry aside from super heated plasma and artillery. Sapphire veins ran through the chest plates and added a regal flair to the already fantastic armour. His pauldrons were bigger and seemed capable of acting as a small shield if held. His right pauldron proudly displayed the Alexard family crest, a roaring manticore set in front of a kite shield. The other one was chained to his armour and had various inscriptions etched into its surface. Along with the etchings, a large, royal blue cape cascaded downwards behind him that connected to the back of the shoulder and covered parts of the plating. The ends of the cape were singed from laser fire but still seemed flawless in their ripped ends. In his left hand he gripped the large, iconic tower shield the guards were known for wielding and in the other he grasped his plasma lance. On his back rested the powerful, and extensively modified, handheld Gauss Rifle. It was an ugly weapon compared to the gleaming and plated weaponry the Guards were known for but the effects of a single .45 ACP round was incredible as it often pierced armour and ripped through flesh. He’d switched out the ammo type from the stock standard 2mm rounds because he recognized the added armour piercing potential and saw the added maintenance required as a bonus. The bulky, dark grey metal was dull and lifeless compared to the armour of the Guard Captain and the wooden stock and handle seemed almost archaic for a Imperial weapon but he prefered the rustic look. The main drawback of the weapon was its open nature with a vented barrel atop the many capacitors and electronic parts to properly propel the ammunition. He also carried around a few spare energy cells which were usable both for his energy consuming rifle and the electronic parts of his layered, heavily polished and opulent armour.

For some reason he’d forgone wearing his helmet as he inspected the crowd of confused and excited colonists piling out of the ship in large, neat lines. His short, clean cut light brown hair blew gently in the wind and he squinted his stone coloured eyes slightly as he watched on. His sturdy, muscular features were a testament to his endurance and physique and the small scars along his bottom lip and nose combined with the shadows casted by his harsh brow made him all the more intimidating.

“Finally, some good news. Thank you Captain Lock.” I said with a small smile as I straightened my uniform and put my cap on as the grav lift hit the ground with a soft thud. The grass underneath my shoes was lush green and wild and stood defiant of the approaching masses; the land was rough and wild and we were perhaps the first to ever walk on the land. This truly was the frontier colonists dream of.

“The reports are coming in from the Scouting party and rescue team. The scouting party is being airlifted out as we speak with the wrecked Hydra in tow and the rescue team is clearing a landing zone for the downed Griffon.” Lock reported as stiff and calm as always, his commanding and booming voice demanding attention.

“Wonderful, have the Hydreas responsible for checking the perimeter and setting up the walls reported anything strange?” I asked as I looked back at him before turning my attention back to the rolling fields of grass before me and the trees further away.

“No my lord, aside from detecting small creatures burrowed underground and animals running along the treeline nothing out of order or undesired.” He continued as I approached the gathering colonists, all of them lugging their bags, supplies, tools and personal effects with their families and friends as well. They were still shocked from the failed terrorist attack but they’d come to start a new life away from the restrictive Armada and crash landing or not they were going to settle down.

As I stood in front of the gathered crowd of thousands with my Guard Captain, Second Officer and a small squad of Guards behind me I addressed the curious audience.

“As we’re all aware, the landing was less than optimal. We were ambushed and set on a collision course with this planet; this didn’t change much in the end. We’re here to colonise this world and if anything the H.U.A made getting down here slightly easier.” I said with a small smile. “This new world is more than just a planet, it embodies what we’re all here for: it’s the future of our families, the future of our empire, the key to understanding more in the universe, a potential goldmine and above all else it’s an opportunity to realize the hopes and dreams of every citizen of the Armada: a new Earth. We may not have been prepared for the crash but when has any colonization gone smoothly? Mars was a potential death sentence, Ferrusola was a toxic world, Styx...Well, we all know about Styx and so many other colonies all had their harsh starts and anomalies. But, we’re not just colonists and we’re not just soldiers: we’re the best of the empire, we’re the smartest citizens the Armada had to offer and we’re the bravest and most daring of the lot! When our children’s children look back on this day they will proudly say that their family was there when the Royal Human Trade Armada founded the greatest hope for Humanity! We won’t back down because the wildlife doesn't like us or the weather is disagreeable, we’re Humans! Well, most of us anyway, and Humanity has never stepped down from an opportunity like this. We will colonize this new world, we will tell the Armada of our success and we will pave the road for the future of Humanity! Long live the empire!” I finished with a triumphant roar as the gathered crowd cheered in applause and began working with the construction workers and soldiers to establish the soon-to-be colony.

“A rousing speech Sir, but ultimately pointless if we don’t begin construction of the colony immediately.” Diane reminded as she began ordering various buildings to be constructed through her PDA and walked off to guide the colonists.

“I thought it was rather patriotic and to the point, my lord.” Lock praised with a faint smile as he and his guards continued to tail me as I began looking around for something to do.

“Well, moral was getting pretty low and I thought a pep talk would help.” I said with a small chuckle as I began to walk up to one of the many Machina construction workers before two figures ran up to me.

“Captain, a word please.” One of the many colonists asked as she approached me. She was...Odd to say the least. She wore a mixture of modern and old attire consisting of a grey vest, white puffy shirt, somewhat baggy pants and a pair of boots. She wore a black bowler hat and seemed like she either walked out of a different era or was some kind of recreationist. She spoke with a faint, Earth accent; it sounded faintly British with an air of poshness and nobility. She had pale skin and calm, greyish blue eyes and was only slightly shorter than myself. Her light brown hair was contained by her hat and overall there was nothing overly remarkable about her appearance, she was a Pureblood Human. Strapped to her hip rested an archaic, primitive black powder revolver from times before space travel was even a dream. Colonial gun laws were strict but due to how outdated and harmless it is to many, it was considered more of a threatening antique then a lethal weapon. She also carried a carbide lantern on her hip for some reason.

“Of course, and you are?” I asked as I held out a hand for her to shake, which she did with vigor.

“Eppie Arrington, a mechanical engineer from Earth.” She answered with a nervous look and a slight studder.

 “Hm, don’t get many of engineers who’re not already a part of the crew on a colonial mission. What’s wrong?” I started to ask as DAYNE, the other person who wanted to bug me, butted in.

“Whatever she has to say can wait Captain, what’s more important here is the fact that the scouting party has found some-” I coughed and gestured towards the colonist, protocol dictated that potentially harmful or sensitive data was to be classified from the colonists until it was deemed harmless enough to not worry about or harmful enough to warrant caution.

“Ah, yes of course my apologies. As I was saying-” It continued with a chipper tune.

“Before you ask, yes you may.” I interrupted and gestured for him to stop talking.

“Wonderful! You have your mother’s appreciation for science you know!” DAYNE said as it cheerfully hugged me in excitement, putting Lock on edge.

“Step away from my lord, Machina.” Lock ordered with a stern tone as he tightened his grasp on his weapons and frowned deeply.

“There’s no harm done, simply showing my appreciation! Anyway, duty calls!” DAYNE declared as he ran off back to the ship, leaving mild confusion in his wake.

“...As I was saying, I’d like to request to be able to oversee the construction of my new home and store.” Eppie propositioned after coughing to get my attention.

“Well, normally you’d have to wait for the construction crews to do their job; why do you think you should be allowed to do something like that?” I asked, confused and surprised.

“Well, as a mechanical engineer my job consists of building, maintaining and theorising new machines and repairing old ones and as such I’ve brought many of my pet projects and pieces with me; how can I trust those workers to not scuff up my precious engines or machines?” She asked getting right to the point.

“Look, everyone’s brought their toys or work with them but they know the crew won’t break them because they’re taught and hammered the point that if they break something it comes out of the Empress’ coffers; if they break something you’ll be compensated.” I informed as began to walk towards some of the aforementioned crew laying out the groundwork for a rather large building.

“Compensate? Some of my engines are centuries old! How can they compensate an old steam engine? O-or a black power weapon?! I simply must make sure they don’t break anything...Sorry, I’m rather attached to them.” She shouted before blushing slightly and apologising when she noticed my irritated look.

“As I said, the compensation will come out of the Empire’s money and we can cover the cost of an archaic steam engine. Sorry, but permission denied.” I finalized as I went back to overseeing the construction of the main colony buildings and generators.

“I understand. Sorry.” She said with a sigh as she walked off, presumably to her soon-to-be home.

“Hm, the colonists seem to be getting a bit more demanding.” Lock stated with an agitated look.

“Can’t blame ‘im, they came here to get away from the Armada...Who they Styx are they?” I asked suspiciously as I looked at the small group of heavily armed colonists.

Standing around and surveying the colony stood three, strange looking colonists in customized armour and utilizing weapons unauthorized for civilian use. They were out of place and clearly not a part of the ship's crew. I nodded slightly to Lock and he and his guards discretely readied their weapons.

“Hey, mind telling us what you’re doing with those weapons? As you know customized, high powered weapons are illegal.” I integrated with a stern look as Lock stood slightly in front of me so his shield could cover me if they opened fire.

“Certainly sir! Victor Isaac Volkov reporting for duty! We were simply waiting for an order or for someone to request aid, sir.” The man in the middle said, his gruff and jovial voice muffled by a black rebreather attached to his helmet. He was lean and tall man who was covered in extensively customized armour that covered most of his body. His tanned face was obscured by a large black helmet, his eyes and nose were visible as his reinforced visor and frame was open and allowed him to breath normally until he deemed it necessary to lower it. The sides of his helm had a torch and sensor built into it and seemed thick enough to stop a few bullets. Around his neck rested a grey scarf that seemed to only act as an added aesthetic. His metallic, thick and painted armour resembled a operatives set of armour but his left arm was significantly protected in comparison; the metallic and augmented arm stuck out from the armour and had added metal plates to act as dermal plating along with the massive pauldron he’d attached onto it.His legs were as equally armoured as his torso and right arm and he was covered head to toe in black, grey and silver metal.

In his hands he held what looked like the base model for a Hybrid weapon called the Black Sun. Utilised only by the Ferrusolian Guard; it was big, long, painted black and dark green and had a large, weighted barrel that allowed for modified slugs to be propelled at high velocity. It was fairly devoid of added features and he utilized the normal iron sights and the standard type of ammunition; noticeable by the glowing magazine sticking out the side of the gun. Used to gun down large game, criminals and light armoured vehicles, it was adored by PMCs and Ferrusolians alike. Attached to his belt were two satchel charges, four HE grenades and a small box containing what I’d recognized as motion sensing, camouflaged trip mines.

“Drop the formalities please, you’re not a member of my crew and you’re no colonists; who are you three and what do you mean waiting for orders?” I questioned, slightly irritated and annoyed.

“You don’t know? Our employer assured us he’d clear up any issues with you, names Aster Lansing by the way.” The second, and youngest, of the three insisted; his jovial and calm voice catching my attention. He was fairly short and I had to look down to look him in the eyes and was rather pale and skinny.

He was a lot more recognizable thanks to his unique but identifiable armour. He wore the standard black and gold armoured jumpsuit of an Imperial Corsair. His smooth and young face was barren of injury and he seemed far too young to be a privateer or any kind. He had a simple and neat black hair cut, cool, crystal blue eyes and a slight smile on his thin lips. His body was encased in a tight fitting, slightly armoured pilot suit. The standard black suit had multiple flexible and lightweight plates and padding around key parts of his body and protected his helmet when not activated. He was thankfully nowhere near as armed as his companion but had a slender and small laser pistol on his hip. The Quasar is a corsair favourite, it’s slick, smooth and compact. The black pistol had a long, see through barrel that when fired, depending on the ammunition used, would change colours. It was reliable, energy efficient and was quick to draw; not as overtly threatening as the Black Sun but nearly as lethal.

“No, I wasn’t informed that there were mercenaries on board my ship. Who authorized this?” I asked, emphasising the my in the sentence, as I looked at my guards.

“Nobleman Woolsworth said he’d need ‘extra muscle’ and help with starting his colony. I’m sorry he didn’t inform you but we were employed to do our job. Oh! I’m Alfred Hutama,” The third and final merc said with a smile.

He looked...Strange. He looked fairly normal and was about average height, only a few inches taller than Aster and about a foot shorter than Victor. He had long, straight white hair that cascaded down his back and the side of his head and had light brown skin; I’d wager he came from a warmer or perhaps a desert planet. It was hard to pinpoint his age but I would’ve guessed he was in his thirties. All of this looked normal enough but the rest of his body was purely machine. His metal  body was mostly black with thin blue lines that start at his shoulders and streak down to his arms and feet. His armoured body was covered in light plates that would deflect or absorb small arms fire but would do nothing against high powered or armour piercing ammo. Around his waist he carries a series of grenades, flashbangs and smoke bombs and if the concealed plates around the top of his wrists were anything to go by his arms hid two short blades. Like all people extensively augmented  he most likely possessed unnatural strength and possibly speed seeing as how aerodynamic and lightweight his body looked. Around the sides of his head rested two large plates that look liked they could lock together to form a mask and quasi-helmet. His feet were weirdly designed and looked more like serrated hands capable of gripping the ground and I had no doubt in my mind he could use them as weapons. I was rather amazed that I could note all this because my mind was filled with murderous thoughts as I thought about how badly I wanted to choke out Pat.

“Check them for permits to carry their weapons and any legal documents that prove what they’re saying…” I said between grinding teeth as my burning golden eyes scanned the colonists for the fat fuck. After failing to find him in punching distance I tapped the com device in my ear and checked my PDA for his number...Only to see he was redirecting all his calls to Heilda. Begrudgingly I called her and hoped she was near him.

“Hello, this is Heidegrade Adoniram; how may I-”

“Why the FUCK did that cunt hire mercenaries?!” I screamed in rage before I could control myself. My guards looked at me funny and the few colonists near me were taken aback.

“Oh, hey Captain. I’d thought he’d told you about the four mercs he’d hired.” She replied after a short pause.

“There’s four of them?...Empress have mercy...Put that bastard on the com please.” I asked, my voice taking on a somewhat more sinister tone towards the end.

“Fine…’ She said finally as there was a faint sound of something unclipping and clipping back on.

“Hey Captain, what’s ‘a matter now?” Pat’s voice ringed in my ear.

“The ‘matter’ Governor, is that there’s four mercenaries running about the colony without my knowledge!” I yelled in annoyance as Lock tapped me on my shoulder and showed me the three mercenaries IDs and their legally signed documents that give them permission to operate within the boundaries of the new colony signed by Governor Patrick M. Woolsworth.

“I don’t see the problem bud, I’m allowed to employ outside help and they’ve worked with the Empire before.” He defended with an annoyed sigh

“We’re establishing a colony Pat, and to do that we need to COMMUNICATE! Next time could you please tell me about the unknown mercenaries carrying high powered weapons?!” I yelled as I pulled my faintly glowing hair in frustration.

“No problem Cap, unless someone tries to punch me they won’t cause trouble; anything else you want to yell at me?” He asked, wanting to end the call swiftly.

“Just that you’re a cunt and that I hate you so fucking much.” I replied as I began to terminate the call.

“Yeah? Well tell-” Pat’s annoying voice was cut off early into his comeback. I breathed in heavily, breathed out and waited till my voice returned to its normal tone and my features stopped glowing. As I adjusted my stainless, gleaming uniform I turned back to the mercs with a forced smile.

“Everything checks out, sorry for the inconvenience.” I begrudgingly forced out so they wouldn’t hate me.

“No need to apologise Captain, just doing your job.” Victor said with a salute, he seemed calm but his voice sounded somewhat agitated.

“Yeah, I figured our boss was gonna screw up sooner or later.” Aster said with a shrug as he seemed to wave it off.

“ S’all good, Styx of a first impression huh?” Alfried joked as he hid his smile behind a metal hand.

“If your business with my lord is finished would you please move along?” Lock insisted as he and his guardsman formed their protective formation around me.

“Certainly sir.” Victor replied as he and his two friends walked off.

“At least he knows his place, mercenaries are too unruly for my liking.” Lock exclaimed as we began to move deeper into the planned colony.

“Agreed, hopefully that’ll be-”

“Hey Matt? Monty here, hey.” The charming voice of Monty blared through my Com piece, surprising me.

“Monty? How did you-?”

“I’m an engineer with the brain of a supercomputer and an intimate understanding of the ship, after a few fuck ups I managed to connect myself to the ship’s com system...Man, your crew loves talking about a lot of dumb stuff.” Monty explained, it was very bizarre that Monty had hacked himself into the ship but at least he hadn't fucked with anything.

“Fine, just don’t touch anything or the crew’ll get suspicious as to why the airlocks keep opening  and closing. What’s up?” I asked curiously.

“I’ve been receiving multiple reports of alien activity outside the colony’s parameters. It seems to be mostly standard stuff but I’d advise buffing up the patrols.” He warned with a hint of surprise.

“Okay, noted, thanks.” I replied simply as I looked around at the colonists giving me dirty looks; most likely because of my amazing features and glowing body.

“Cool, I’ll keep you advised if something else happens boss. Later.” He said as he disconnected from the call.

“Hey Lock, increase the amount of guards on patrol in each squad from four to 6 and supply them with advanced scanners; the animals in the forest seems to be getting pretty active.” I ordered with a voice that demanded authority.

“Of course my lord.” He said as he began issuing orders and bolstering the squads numbers. As I scan the distant forest treeline, I swore I’d saw something moving. With a stern look, I made a mental note to get the walls erected sooner.

“Sir, are you seeing this?” Private Lionheart asked in shock and awe as she laid down in the dirt and scanned the aliens in front of them. Everypony in Equestria heard what’d happened last night and almost instantly after it impacted into the forest the Princesses had ordered a scouting party to discover what’d happened and nothing could’ve prepared us for this.

“I’m seeing it Private…” I simply reply, my gruff voice muffled by the camouflaged cloth around my mouth. I could just see her faint brown fur underneath the layers of fake foliage. The shining airship was monstrously tall and the strange, fleshy, metal and plant like creatures were unlike anything anypony had ever seen. Their machines crushed the plant life underneath it, their weapons were strangely shaped, their bodies were similar to a Minotaur's than anything else and they spoke...Equestrian. These aliens were unlike anything we’d ever seen.

“Private, the messenger.” I requested simply as she passed a small, glowing blue gem. I channeled a small beam of magic into it. After a short while, the gem shined slightly brighter and a soft voice flowed from it.

“Commander Marygold, report.” A soft spoken mare ordered.

“Have made visual contact with the strange airship, there’s thousands of unknown creatures speaking Equis and they seem like they’re establishing a town of sorts inside the Everfree. How should we act?” I asked, needing some direction.

“Fall back, you’ve done enough for today and the Princesses will want to know what you’ve found along with the other scouts. Be advised, two Pegasi have gone missing in the Everfree and it’s believed they’re both close friends of Princess Twilight; they’re not your priority but if you can retrieve them.” She ordered as I simply replied with a ‘yes ma’am’ and handed the gem back to Lionheart.

“We’re pulling out Private, let’s move.” I ordered as we slowly crept back into the forest before getting back up onto our hooves and softly galloping back through the dark, haunting forest.

Equestria had never seen anything like this and no one knew what would happen, but both of us knew anything could happen at such a pivotal moment of our collective history.