"Humanity is weak, and it is our duty to rid the galaxy of discrepancy. It is the will of the gods for your destruction, and we are their instrument." Dean remembered the words that made history. He was at the television again, an eighty five inch flat screen, and was watching the news. He felt hatred burning within him, as well as a mixture of fear. Looking over, he saw his loving wife, Marie. Her beautiful brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and her shirt hugged her body in an arousing manner, though he hardly noticed any of that. What he noticed instead, where the tears sliding down her face and her mouth slightly hanging open.

Dean heard an explosion and turned back to the screen. The newscaster was saying something, but he didn't really hear. He felt numb.

"Oh my lord, t-that was one of the great pyramids!" The newscaster nearly dropped her microphone. Another explosion rocked the city behind her, then a shadow appeared. Dean could only watch in horror as a massive ship three times the size of the Empire State Building came into frame. "W-we are getting reports that the Egyptian military is getting pushed back, leaving some civilian's behind. Wait, were getting something new..." He heard his wife gasp as the majority of the screen, minus the reporter, was lit with a blinding white light, then, just as suddenly, the screen switched to static.

The news reporter stared into the screen, piercing Dean's soul. It was almost like it was demanding something of him. "It-it would seem that-" Whatever the news reporter had to say was suddenly cut off, the screen being replaced with a dark blue hue.

"What the heck?" Marie stood up and walked over to the tv. Dean noticed her shoulders where slightly slumped and the odd sniffle escaped her nose. He felt the same way, though he wasn't feeling overly emotional. There really wasn't much he could do even if his country went to war. He was a lowly entrepreneur, average in height, build, and everything else. There was no way he would survive such an excursion. Plus, he had a family to feed. His son was upstairs sleeping. Thinking of them, he realized that if the army started enlisting, he had a duty to a country. He didn't want it, but he would join if he had to.

He slowly started to change his mind, the world was under attack, and it was his duty as an American to defend it; even against a technologically superior enemy. He started to develop a headache, his duty to his country or his duty to his family? What was the right choice?

"Honey, I don't think the tv turned off, something must be interfering with the signal." Dean stood up and moved to the kitchen, intent on grabbing a glass of rum. He heard the soft footsteps of his wife slowly approach from behind, then felt her arms wrap around his waist. He stood there in silent contemplation as her head pressed into his back.

"Honey. I, as well as every person in this country has a duty to uphold. I-I've been thinking, a-and I've come to the conclusion that with you here with Jacob, I might be forced to enlist soon.

He turned around as his wife's arms left his waist. Her eyes looked into his, tears once again making themselves known. He reached up, his face scrunching into what he hoped was a soothing expression, and traced his finger across her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"Hopefully it won't come to that though. If the European Union can fight them back, or they start nuking them, then we might have a chance, and I wont need to join." Dean shuddered. He realized that while soothing his wife, he was still trying to convince himself he wouldn't need to do it. He wasn't a coward, he simply did not want to abandon his family.

"Promise me." He looked down again as his wife spoke, her hand reached up to his cheek. "Promise you won't leave me." her eyes searched his own. Beautiful blue eyes, flowing brown hair, perfect body, loving and caring personality: It was why he married her.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but a knock sounded on the door. Marie glanced back in confusion, as did Dean. They did order a new kitchen set online, but it wasn't due for another two days. So if it wasn't their package, then who was it? Dean stepped around his wife and made his way to the drawer. If it was a burglar, then they likely wouldn't have knocked, that didn't stop him from checking to make sure his nine mil was in the drawer near the exit.

Looking through the peephole, he examined the sight on his front porch. A slick black car was parked on the side of the road, its frame only illuminated by the lonely streetlight. Looking up, Dean noticed his vision was blocked slightly from the rest of the road. His eyes traveled upwards until a crease in a black dress jacket appeared. A white dress shirt with a tie neatly tucked in was plastered smoothly against the person before his eyes. Reluctantly, he unlatched the door and twisted the knob. A draft of cold air quickly breezed through the opening and across Deans neck, causing him to shiver slightly. Opening the door fully, Dean stood up straighter and let his mouth form a thin line.

"Are you Dean Stewart Forester?" The man asked. He was wearing a pristine suit with dress shoes. A beret sat upon what Dean could see was a clean shaven head. Muscles rippled beneath the mans suit, instantly putting him on guard. A pair of aviators rested on the bridge of his nose, concealing his eyes. He reminded Dean of a Navy Seal.

"Yes."

"Good. My name is Captain Steve Mason. I am am a member of the Rangers Special Task Force or RSTF, it's a pleasure to meet you." The captain stuck out his hand, his face betraying no emotion. Dean on the other hand, knew his face was painted with suspicion. The captain realized this and retracted his hand.

"Can I help you, sir?" Dean replied evenly. He heard Marie approaching down the hall, her footsteps making no noise on the hardwood floor. Ignoring this, Dean focused on the man, who was rummaging around in his suit.

"Actually, you can help me. Mr. Forester, I have an offer for you. As you know, the Orith are pushing towards Europe." The captain found what he was looking for and pulled out an envelope, but held onto it for the time being. "Even though our country has not joined the war and is looking for a diplomatic approach, it has been quickly building up its arsenal and manpower. As you probably know, we have been creating new technologies-"

"Like the fabricator?" Dean mumbled, mostly to himself. Captain Mason seemed to overhear and nodded vigorously.

"Indeed, like the fabricator! Now, I cannot stay for much longer, duty calls after all, so I would like to give you an invitation." Captain Mason held out the hand with the envelope, the seal facing up. Dean recognized the crossed rifles along with a silver wreath on each side as part of the Rangers insignia. But instead of a skull, what appeared to be a phoenix sat in the middle. Three stars sat above its head and it had an inhuman skull in its left talon. In the right talon, an American flag sat, waving as if there was a strong breeze.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Why would I want this?" Dean was worried. He was worried because of what the envelope could imply. He glanced behind him and saw his wife was thinking the same thing. Sorrow passed through him as his surroundings seemed to darken. The captain noticed his mood and his face scrunched up into a look of pity.

"Look, I get it. You've got a family to take care of. You have a healthy life going on here, and you are scared. The thing is, if the Orith somehow win across the ocean, we're next. There will be no more family to fight for, no more lives to live. If we get our military strength up, then we have a chance. This envelope is an offering. The Ranger Special Task Force has been monitoring you for the last little while, and we believe you are a good candidate. If you choose not to join, then in three days time, a mandatory draft will go out to every citizen of able body." The captain moved the letter a bit closer, coaxing Dean into taking it. Dean for his part couldn't think. It felt like a weight had fallen on his heart, and he couldn't push it off. He looked back to his wife, Marie, once more, noticing her saddened expression. Today had been heart wrenching for the both of them. If he left to join, he would be leaving everything he loved behind. He needed time to think.

Reaching out his shaky hand, Dean carefully grabbed the envelope. He flinched when his fingers brushed the course material, almost as if he expected it to catch fire then and there. Breathing a quiet sigh, he slowly pocketed the envelope before looking up to the captain once more. The pitiful look had been replaced by one of understanding, though this did nothing to comfort Dean.

The captain turned to go, but stopped halfway down the wooden steps of the porch. A light rain started to fall. it brought with it a chill that seemed to sweep past Dean and into his house. The light plink of water hitting hitting the eavestrough radiated through the air. Turning his head slightly, the captain stared at Dean. Then, with a subtle nod, the captain turned and walked towards his car.

Dean could only stand, frozen, as the sleek black vehicle came to life. Its headlights cut through the rain filled air and seemed to reflect of the now sleek pavement. Looking up. Dean could only fathom one thought, tears slowly starting to form in his eyes. His wife's face appeared before him, her loving smile every time he told a joke, her soft lips as she passionately kissed him. His wife seemed to back away, and for a second, he thought she was leaving him. Then, his son appeared. Jaxon Forester, his little boy. He smiled slightly as he saw them, but that smile soon turned into a frown.

Ever so slowly, Dean turned towards his physical wife. His living, breathing lover. All of the happy times, the hard times, the fun times, and the sad times came to the forefront of his mind as he looked at her. He felt sick. Sick because he knew what he had to do. Guilt consumed him, and tears spilled down his face. He nearly chuckled when he heard his father words, 'be a man,' whisper in his ear.

"I'm so sorry."

And with those words, Marie rushed forward and buried her face into his chest, sobbing and soaking his shirt with her tears. Dean himself let the tears run down his own cheek. He needed to be strong. His future seemed to be set, and it weighed him down.

'No. I will come back. I will survive when the war comes here. I will push through.'

And with those thoughts, Dean and his wife stood upon the porch as rain fell lightley from the sky.

'I will do this, and I will survive.'

*****

"Alright Mr. Forester. I'm going to ask you a few questions, then we will proceed." Dean glanced nervously around the blank room, taking in as much detail as possible. A reflective window was directly in front of him, roughly ten feet away. Looking to his left, a lady stood, her hair pulled up into a bun. She also wore large round glasses along with a bleached white lab coat. Dean immediately classified her as some sort of shrink.... or was the term egghead?

At the moment, he was sitting in a medical chair, not all that different from the ones at the dentist. This chair however had all sorts of gadgets and gizmos held aloft. Dean spotted more than one needle amongst the field of technology.

"Can you tell me your age?" The lady looked up from her datapad and gazed at Dean with an expression he couldn't place.

"I-I'm thirty five years old, m'am." He managed to stutter. Dean was feeling nervous, and why shouldn't he? He had talked with his wife, and with much hugging and tears, they were able to agree on him accepting Captain Mason's offer. Now, he wasn't so sure. The room felt stuffy, and he was having trouble breathing.

"Can you tell me your gender?"

Dean whipped his head around and gave his best, 'seriously?' look. It didn't have the intended effect however as the lab lady continued to stare at him with a blank expression. Sighing, he answered.

"Male."

The scientist lady looked down at her data pad once more, as if she needed to recite the question she was about to ask. He saw her eye twitch and her lips fall into a small frown.

"Should you wish, you are permitted to leave the procedure at anytime within the next one hundred and twenty seconds. If you fail to give your answer, you will have no choice but to continue. Your two minutes starts now." Dean felt as if a whole boulder was dropped into his stomach. His vision narrowed as his breathing sped up. Blinking once, then twice, Dean found that his hands had become clammy.

He turned his head to ask a question, but found the scientist lady gone. He was completely alone. His breathing continued in raspy gasps as his eyes darted to and fro. The walls seemed to compress in on him, his reflection in the mirror window seemed to expand, and a pressure was building in his stomach.

Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. He focused on a happy memory; a memory as a kid. He saw his grandma singing him a song as he went to sleep. Smiling to himself, Dean felt his mind relax and go blank. He knew what he needed to do.

The door swung open at exactly two minutes and in walked the lab lady. This time however, she was followed by two beefy men. Each one wore grey fatigues, ballistic vests, and helmets. Their gloved hands swung at their sides and their laced combat boots stomped as they stalked forward. Dean didn't bat an eye as he gazed upon the trio. Only when the lab lady spoke did he snap to attention.

"What is your decision Mr. Forester?" She held her usual blank look as she looked him dead in the eye. Her datapad was clutched against her chest.

Dean swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

'God help me.'

"I accept the procedure," he spoke clearly. His voice did not waver, but he felt tension building between his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat through his head as the lab lady examined her datapad once more. Ten seconds later, she brought it back to her chest and looked Dean over. Her eyes finally settled on his own and he shivered; she had been looking at him like he was a piece of meat.

"We will begin."

And with those words, the machine above him began to whir. He looked up from his spot on the chair and watched as a metal tube snaked its way down towards him. Dean recognized it as a face mask used on respirators.

"Please put the mask firmly over your nose and mouth."

Dean reached up and gently grabbed the mask before placing it on his face as instructed. His other hand found the strap and he quickly wrapped it around the back of his head. Once it was secure, he leaned back into his chair and looked at the scientist. His eyebrows rose however when she gave him a warm smile. Before he could say anything, he heard what sounded like a hiss of air before his consciousness left him. That last thing Dean Stewart Forester remembered was fourteen metallic needles making their way towards his body.