O'Brian sat in a large room designed for pre-deployment briefings, and like many others in his vicinity, he wore the current generation of Orbital Raider combat gear, the Mark III's. It came with a full-face helmet that could be vacuumed and sealed with a curved visor blackish-purple hue that offered little reflectivity. It came with a multitude of functions to aid one in combat, with a compass overhead that games a numerical degree and direction with the poles of any given planet. His armor consisted of a chest rig fastened to an underlying set of harnesses atop a set of the raider battle dress uniform that was connected to a set of greaves and low profile up-armored pauldrons and gauntlets.
A matte gold mark was painted on the bottom portion of his pauldrons and this design ran a similar mark on his chest piece. However, his helmet was personally marked with deliberate carves into the reflective purple colored visor that created a jagged set of teeth with a set of eyes where his own would be, but fashioned in a predatory and demonic manner. When faced with it, one would think that they were faced with a demon trying to mimic a wolf.
This room was linked together with the same layout, each having its own set of benches and weapon lockers, with a central tactical holo-display table. Off to one side were a set of vacuum-sealed doors with reinforced glass embedded into the central part of the door. Beyond that was a series of open pods that faced the catwalk, with the end behind met with another door that led into another part of the ship.
On the holo-table was a display of their target. It was a rough image of the compound's terrain with the compound itself embedded in the mountain. A smaller closed-off courtyard stood between the complex and the open grounds that housed a series of auxiliary buildings, most likely for clerical and grounds keeping purposes. The area was large and a group of three similarly armored soldiers was huddled around the table. The only difference with their armor was the marking on their shoulders which was red and the designs they made on their visors.
“Look, they already have a set of anti-air batteries on the plateaus,” one individual said, sporting a red mark that ran down the center of his chest, with another pair flanking the central stripe in a perpendicular fashion. It resembled an overexaggerated crosshair, and the letters 'DARION' were printed on a space designated at the top of the cuirass, below the neck.
“I see what you mean, Dare. I can take the larger plateau, and you take the smaller one. From there, we can provide cover fire for those who land in the depression,” this time, a woman spoke. The red markings on her chest is a single line running down the center flanked by two stripes on either side of the central stripe. Her nameplate marked her as 'STREGA'. She wore a small pack that rested on her lower back, connected to a harness that wrapped through her chest plate.
The final individual besides the table was a large man, whose width was the size of Darion and Strega side-by-side, and sported all the same gear as the other two, except for his gauntlets. His utility uniform was rolled up just before his elbows, revealing his environmental suit, with a set of gloves reinforced at the knuckles. His pauldrons were larger than the rest of the group and his helmet was up-armored. Strips of reinforced armor were added to his helmet for protection against concussion and flak, with his chest marking that of a sharply designed flaming skull that resembled a demon. While Strega and Darion strategized, he sat quietly beside the table. Strega then turned and spoke to the silent giant, “What d’you say, Greyson?”
He lifted his hand and pointed to the center of the depression. “Gotta hit 'em where it hurts. More fun that way, and more to kill,” he said with a light nod and returned to his seat.
“Well, I think that's a swell plan, aye, Grey?” Darion commented with a snide remark, to which Grey paid it no mind.
O'Brian approached the group to comment on the topic when the nearby monitor came to life. At the first sign of a secure connection, the three donned their helmets, the scars emanating fear. Only O'Brian was the one with his helmet off, held to his right side and his rifle slung to his left.
The face that appeared what the officer leading this charge, Vice Admiral Wolf, “You're up. Give 'em hell and ensure no enemy leaves with the base intel. Neutralize all hostels within the AO.”
“Done,” O'Brian said gruffly, turning toward members that shared a similar style in personalized modifications to their armor and donning his own helmet.
“Get in your pods and prepare for a hot drop. Eliminate with extreme prejudice. Expect the enemy to do the same,” he ordered, and an alarm sounded throughout the compartment, accompanied by flashing red lights and the monitor of where he spoke with the admiral had gone dark.
The rooms situated beside the pods were littered with soldiers standing by, but now they were in a full combat mindset. They grabbed their designated weapons and ensured their magazine pouches were all filled and their gear, functional. With their gear check finalized in seconds, they entered their pods and awaited a countdown that was indicated by a vertical set of colored lights within their pods.
The doors to the catwalk sealed, and a red warning light indicated that they were not going to open unless the entire sequence was aborted. The deck below the pods opened and light from the planet filtered through, illuminating the previously dimly lit room and catwalk. O'Brian’s helmeted visage was visible on a monitor that transmitted to his company's drop pods and issued his orders.
“Heads up. Contacts in the AO are hostile, and your HUD has been updated with IFF signatures. We've got local militia hitting them at the perimeter,” he said, raising his voice to compensate for the sudden increase in background noise. “Let's show them how Raptors like to dance!”
A collective 'Oo-rah' was sounded off from his soldiers and a single toned counted down until a drawn-out beep played, and the drop indicator turned green, initiating their automated launch. The pods dropped in waves, with his heat last. The pods expelled propellant for the initial drop, and O'Brian felt his stomach rise inside him. A feeling he was all too familiar with, but rather enjoyed it. He ensured his weapon was fastened in a designated spot beside him during the descent.
Raptor Company was stationed aboard the TRSC Arm of Sol, an assault carrier retrofitted for operations involving large-scale orbital drops. Otherwise, many in his company would be separated across multiple ships that had drop pod capability, which was mostly heavy frigates and above. However, it wasn’t just Raptor Company aboard the assault carrier. It was all the 4th battalion sent to accompany the 7th Fleet, and O’Brian’s Company was going to be sent to retake the base. The rest of the battalion would be sent to other fronts all over the planet, but right now, Raptor Company was going to be the first to encounter their new foe.
As they descended, a naval battle unfolded before him. The scene was the same all around, and the cracks and booms of cannons filled the very air they fell through, and it only grew the more they descended past the Titans locked in combat. The most casualties were of the smaller ships, like the gunboats and corvettes, with pieces of both the republic and the enemy floating in orbit through the atmosphere, many making a final descent into the earth below.
From what he could see, ships of the Terran Fleet had placed themselves in broadside formation, utilizing their large, and numerous, deck cannons to pepper the enemy ships with rounds that devastated all who were victims to it. Of course, this left them vulnerable, but the shields of the navy outclassed the weapons the enemy fired at them, with some of their weapons half the size of a single deck cannon. This made many of the Stellar navy opt for a broadside barrage of cannons fire against the enemy capital ships, while utilizing their missiles against many of the retaliating enemy fighters. He thought a barrage of the Magnetic Accelerators Cannons was surreal, but after seeing the wealth of smoke and fire that erupted from many of the deck guns, well, he nearly changed his mind on the matter. He could tell from the one-sided slaughter alone, that the enemy had already begun to turn tail, leaving many on the ground to fend for themselves.
“More for us,” he said aloud, before his singular cabin began ringing. Indicators blared, and he was forced to make a course correction with a quick burst of propellant and flares until the alerts cleared, and his drop point returned to normal. The indicator that alarmed him was a missile lock from below, but with a mix of flares and adjusting his path through ship debris, they cleared, and his alarms remained silent for the rest of his drop.
He now had less than five minutes left before he touched down. He had just entered the lower part of the atmosphere and the heat of friction dissipated, his pod now in free fall. The descent gauge was decreasing dramatically until they reached terminal velocity. When their pods entered less than three-thousand meters, their metallic drogue chutes opened, slowing their descent even further until their pod was close enough to the ground for their braking rockets to engage. As hundreds of pods descended from the skies, the occupants of their metal coffins were hell-bent on engaging the enemy.
With a crash, hundreds of pods landed on top of the enemy. Many were crushed, and their comrades stood frozen in fear as they came to face the darkened pod that had crushed their fellow comrade. The door blew open with a series of explosive bolt charges and O'Brian's door crashed into the nearest enemy, splattering him, and any behind the unfortunate soul, as the door continued unimpeded for several meters.
He readied his rifle and began firing into the enemy crowd in their stupor. His fellow raiders joined in the fight, and an unrelenting wave of bullets found their marks. The enemies that had the spirit in them to return fire did so, but mostly ended up hitting their friendlies, with the Raiders catching at most shrapnel. His soldiers aggressively pressed on, using much of the environment for cover and over saturating the enemy with fragmentation grenades.
O'Brian landed on the left side of the depression, and he commanded his raiders as they moved toward the courtyard entrance, neutralizing the enemy with lethal proficiency. The battle raged for no more than several minutes before his Raiders routed the enemy to only a handful. They were encircled and the surviving enemy soldiers were fired upon, one by one until only one stood. Firing halted when the combatant tossed his rifle and raised his hands in a warrior's stance.
“Sir, what do we do with him?” a Raider with white markings inquired.
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“Guess we’ll take him alive…” he replied, and slung his rifle to draw his sidearm. He speculated that the enemy wanted a warrior's death, but didn't know how capable this one was in combat, as his size was larger than those below him. He looked like he could fight, but O'Brian wasn't going to let him have his way.
The alien before him didn't wear a helmet, unlike many of his fallen comrades. It wore a leather-like coat over their outfit that matched with the fallen enemies beside it. It had long, pointed ears with a slim face and metal jaw. He tried to reference their look to well-known media, but came up empty, leaving their looks as a new reality. In fact, its facial structure seemed remarkably human, save for its colored skin and accented markings.
“I'll incapacitate him,” he said, firing two shots into the chest of the fighter, purposely avoiding what he assumed to be non-vital areas; he went down, its chest still rising. O'Brian knelt beside the downed enemy and summarily called for one of the medics to gather him. At that time, O'Brian spoke to him, knowing he probably didn't understand him.
“Well, well, well,” he said, “Quite a shame. If it were up to me, you'd be dead. I mean, look around you. A fallen warrior, forsaken by his own,” He pressed the sidearm against his head, and pointed to the skies above, “Your friends left, with who knows what. But it won’t matter, we’ll find them, and their home. But first, I might just have to take you in for intel,” he pulled the weapon away from its head when he received a call over his command network.
“O'Brian, there's no need to take prisoners. The Athene Protocol was initiated, and we received confirmation of its deployment. Execute all survivors.”
“Yes sir,” he replied, turning back to the felled enemy, “Damn shame. I would have had some fun with you.”
With no hesitation, he fired a shot into the already felled enemy. Its body jolted momentarily, and its breathing ceased, green fluid now present on his armor and the uniform that he wore beneath his armor.
“Great, pretty sure this is gonna stain,” he said, regaining his stance. The medics, curious about the execution, came running from behind.
“Sir, weren't we going to bring it in? We could have learned a lot,” one of the corpsmen stated.
O'Brian shook his head to their inquiry, “Order from the Admiral. There was no need to bring them in alive,” he said, trying to remove what he could of the brain matter that plagued parts of his greaves and gauntlets. He then gathered his squad leaders and issued prompt clean-up of any stragglers and brought with him the Grey, Strega, and Darion into the compound.
“Tell me again why we have a Stellar Fleet research facility out here with no protection?” Darion commented, to which Strega replied.
“The way I heard it, it was to keep it as hidden as possible. Can't do that with a navy right above it, now, can we?”
“And? It looked like they were throwing everything they had at this place. We still got guys fighting out there,” Darion inquired aggressively, turning to the larger, of the four, “What d'you think, Grey?”
With his weapon in the alert stance, he replied, “They’re Raiders. They better damn well take care of the bastards outside.”
The four advanced, their weapons in alert, and proceeded to the way-point generated on their HUD that led to the rear of the reception hall into a long hallway to the back left. When they entered the dimly lit room, they activated a night enhancement feature, and they were able to see as clearly as day. Several of the bodies closest to them were of the enemy, while those by the door were part of the local militia.
He knelt by the one closest to the door and pulled his tags from his neck, keeping mind to take only one of the pair; (SGT COOPER: 8231145478: AB NEG). It was common practice for those in service to wear a pair of identification tags when in combat. The first, attached to the beaded metal necklace, remained on the body, while the second, connected by a smaller ring of the necklace, was taken. This was done to officially tally and name all of those fallen in combat. A practice O’Brian never got used to. The group gathered the rest of the fallen’s tags, while the ones at the entrance to the compound were gathered by the external teams.
When they finished, they descended to the sublevel by the wide stair way until they were met by several entrances along a hallway. They went through each room methodically, and the muffled thuds of their boots filled the area, clearing what rooms they could until they made it to the room at the end. It was a server room that looked like it was blown to hell. A wealth of both militia and aliens littered the room, and the occasional spark from the machines popped at intermittent intervals.
The three gathered the dog tags from the militia in the room, and O'Brian made his way further back of the room. There he met a plane of glass with what looked to be melted plasma burns. Beyond it, he saw a man slumped over with his back to the podium. His body faced the glass, and he saw no signs of life in him.
A panel of black glass revealed itself to his left from the wall, and he placed his hands on it. The words 'ACCESS GRANTED' were displayed on the device, and the glass wall opened with a hiss. O'Brian approached the body slowly, and his tags revealed him to be Captain Roy.
“Notify a recovery team, we have casualties in the compound.” He spoke into his comm set. As he was about to leave, a voice called out from behind him.
He turned with his sidearm pointed toward the podium, only to find a person donned with flowing robes beneath an ornately decorated breastplate. Her hair was fashioned in an ancient bun, with the extra hair wrapping toward the front in a braided wreath.
She gave a curt bow.
“What are you?” He said, “You don't look like our regular A.I.”
“So what is it about this facility, I've been told that I am required to a full authorization request. Why couldn't the Captain here do it?”
“What programs are those?” He inquired while messaging the admiral.
He raised an eyebrow, “What kind of program is that?” He asked, his team now by his side.
“So, Drones?”
She shot O'Brian a glare but all he did was sigh, “Can you locate the survivors of this bunker?”
She said, regaining her calm demeanor.
“Do that. Scour the planet for the civilians, and terminate all surviving hostiles. I'm sure you can differentiate between our bio-signatures.”
She gave a bow,
“What might that be?” he inquired.
she said with a stern conviction.
“Very well,” he said with a pause, “do you have something I can carry you in? I don’t want to lug around a podium to the ship,” she pointed beside her metal podium and there was a handheld device with a slot opening that had yet to be filled.
O'Brian did as she suggested and pulled her chip out from the podium and placed her in the device that was ready for her. It was small and in the shape of a hexagon, with a slight depress in the center with holo-display glass. He held it up, and her form appeared much smaller than when she stood atop the podium.
He acknowledged the new device and put it away in one of his thigh-mounted storage packs. It was big enough for the device and had been barely utilized, and he closed it. It came with a wireless link, and she was able to communicate with the squad.
Upon departing the compound, the fighting had come to a complete stop and now the soldiers, both raiders and the militia from the perimeter were clearing the bodies.
He signaled for a ride for himself and any wounded, and a medium-sized ship landed after some time. Its rear ramp lowered and revealed several navy personnel sporting white and turquoise assisting the wounded. The compartment was sized for two small or one medium land base vehicle, and beyond that was the troop compartment behind a set of wide doors. The two side doors remained closed, and a gun attached to a swivel rested against the wall in a secured fashion. He entered the passenger compartment and relinquished his weapon on a rack and took a seat. It took a moment before they got off the ground, but when they were, O'Brian closed his eyes for the short ride.
It wasn't long until he was on the carrier that Vice Admiral Wolf commanded from. When they landed, he promptly exited the vehicle and made his way to the bridge, ignoring the stares he garnered from the crew. After minutes of fast-paced walking, he finally made his way to the bridge, where Vice Admiral Wolf and Commander Randal were present.
“Good, you're here.” Spoke Wolf, “Let's make our way to a more secure area.”
He nodded, and the three made their way to Wolf's quarters. Wolf sat down and so did Randal, while O'Brian remained standing, refusing to seat himself.
“I'll be fine sir,” he said and presented the device to the eager officers.
Her form appeared from the device when it was placed in the center of the table. Her form was of an ancient dress that was artificially heavy with cloth and a breastplate decorated in ancient Greek aesthetic. The same went for her hair bun into a braided wreath.
The two were stunned at her appearance. All they knew, when it came to AI, was that they were simple, both in form and response. Most were a simple program designed for a specific purpose, like weapons targeting or ship’s systems. They were overseen by a central Ship borne AI that took a simple shape with eyes to loosely model the human personification, such as Lumi.
The noble dressed AI bowed graciously as she was introduced by her courier, “Gentlemen… I present to you, Athena. AI of Gamma Base.”