As Octavia walked the granite halls, sounds of shouting were nearly heard beyond the many doors that led into the senate chambers. And placed throughout the large corridor at fixed intervals were the Senate Guards, donning a modded variant of the illustrious Raider standard gear. They stood watch as she continued her way through the halls until finally, reaching a door that led into a small office. It was humble, and the appearance was not overtly furnished with expensive furniture.
In the back, where a desk was placed, sat a man in the middle of his age, as he scoured through countless papers and tablets with a female assistant by his side; providing him with freshly made coffee. He didn’t look up to her presence, but his assistant made him aware, “Sir, she’s here.”
“Huh? Oh. Thank you, Autumn. Why don’t you get some lunch?” he replied. She departed silently, and with a wave of his hand, also dismissed the two guards placed by the door. Both of whom she didn’t see or hear when she first entered.
“So, what news do you bring? I hope it’s something to settle down those senators.” replied the man. Octavia approached a seat that was placed across from the man before speaking.
“Too much, I’m afraid,” she said. “First off, do we have a date for the Tribunal of the War Council?”
“Beginning of next year. That’s locked in, so no need to mention that. What else?” he replied without the need to lift his face from his desk.
“Well, as you know, the invasion of the Sellian home planet was a success,” she replied. “Many from the higher ups were skeptical over having a single platoon initiate the attack with so few forces, but their spearhead approach worked. The enemy wasn’t expecting such a small force to infiltrate, so they didn’t prepare proper counters.”
“Hmm. And what of the 7th fleet? How did their campaign matchup against these Sellians?” he asked.
“Fairly well, if not better, seeing how outdated our ships were. They were still utilizing last generation MACs and shield generators, but it seems like the APHENT round proved to be advantageous against unshielded enemy ships. It also seemed like the enemy wasn’t anticipating the power of the MAC, either. It seemed to be the only thing that gave us the edge against them,” she explained.
“The APHENT round, huh. Tell me again why it was banned in the first place?” he asked as he continued sifting through documents and signing what needed to be signed.
“The senate wasn’t keen on its uses against human ships when they saw the result. But against an alien enemy who attacked us first, well, they saw it fit to see its use in live combat. From what I’ve heard, they were pleased with its efficiency,” replied Octavia.
“That’s good, then. No telling what else we may be faced with in the near future,” said the man. “Unless, there is something you’re not telling me.”
Octavia sighed at his keen ability to read into people and their intentions, hidden or not. It was that skill of his that led him to being the Secretary-General in the first place.
“One of the VIPs, a General Torlak, was en route to the Sol system when their ship was ambushed. It left most of the Raider escort dead, and took Torlak with them. Luckily, a Raider survived and took control of the situation prior to the enemy's departure. So aside from the council, we have another that was high in their chain of command,” explained Octavia. She provided him with her tablet, and on it was a profile of the lone Sellian in question.
“Chief-Commander Orlin. He was initially in charge of the defenses around their planet, but gave that authority to Torlak. With the assistance of the 4th fleet, control of Orbital space over their capital went smoothly. But there’s one more thing…” she trailed off as she searched her tablet for the appropriate documents. When she found what she was looking for, she handed back the tablet to the man before her.
“Are these dossiers? Of a new race?” he questioned.
“Two new races. We’re working on the third, but we have yet to receive credible intel on their appearances. The first two you see are what we recovered from the ambush,” she said, detailing their features.
“The larger one is called a ‘Runian’; a race of large reptilians used as an advanced force. The other is called a ‘Vixian’,” she said.
“Looks like my dog, albeit, weird looking. Uncanny, if anything,” he shuddered. “I don’t know how I feel seeing a dog walk on its hind legs on the regular. And that lizard, how plentiful are they when deployed on the field?”
He noted their relatively large stature, with a fixed measurement tool placed beside it revealing the particular subject to be around five-foot-eight, with the reptile measured up to nearly seven-and-a-half feet. It was also noted that both subjects were male, but that detail mattered little to him, as the lizard posed the larger threat simply for its size.
“They are apparently what comprises the largest portion of their ground forces. Beyond that, we know very little. As for the Runians, we have plenty of subjects for now, although I wish we didn’t,” she said with a disgusted scowl at their mention.
“For what reason? You mentioned we have more. Where?” inquired the Secretary-General.
“The conditions we found them in were depraved, to say the least,” she revealed a data sheet and report on her tablet, revealing it to the man before her. As he read silently, he grew uncomfortable and disgusted.
“Beyond killing and eating, it appears they have a pastime of ‘forced intercourse’ with female captives before killing them for food. We found several DNA samples in one of their latest victims, but we only found it because they had yet to eat her womb. It was the only thing not eaten before the Raider teams put them down,” she explained.
“Savages…” was the only word he could mutter. And his decision was clear, at least for them. “I will propose a doctrine for our troops to engage these Runians with prejudice. From the looks of it, they are nothing but lizards who can barely think and are prone to their instincts, regardless of who handles them.”
“Seems we’re in agreement on that front, but I doubt that’s all you want to know,” she said.
“Why, of course. What else do you have?” he questioned.
“Well, what do you want to hear?” she began, “we have Orbital Guard garrisons over several Sellian systems and the 7th fleet should be replaced by now. Won’t be long before they return to their home port in Alpha Centauri.”
“I’m well aware, but what of our brethren’s status? Those captured during the initial invasion? Do we have a lead on them, Director?” he said with a glare. Octavia shuffled in her seat at her new position; still trying to warm up to it.
“We still need more time before we can deploy our first team. They have promise, but screenings are filtering out more than we can fill,” she replied.
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“Who do you have so far?” he asked.
“We have a prominent pilot turned Raider. He just so happened to be the one to alert us of the threat in the first place. Screening decided to maintain some sort of squad cohesion, so he’s joined by a couple from his unit. We’re still looking to see who can fill spots aboard the common functions of their new ship, so I need your approval for a funds transfer to allocate for ship upgrades,” explained Director Octavia.
“Oh? What upgrades are those?” asked the Secretary-General with a raised eyebrow.
“We’re trying to implement the latest in stealth tech, and with the emphasis on not being seen, I think it's more than necessary for our operations.”
He sighed at her reasoning, but gave in to her request, “Very well. I’ll issue a funds and asset requisition request to the senators,” he said, with the room’s main door opening to his familiar secretary, Autumn, with food and drink in hand. “Then, Director, I think it's best you set off. You don’t have long before your deadline, so I expect to see some results next quarter.”
Octavia gave a shallow bow, which was returned by the man and assistant before her, before dismissing herself. But before she exited the room, the man called out to her, not of a simple request, but an order.
“Oh, Director,” she stood silent at his order, urging him to continue. “Find me General Brooke. We believe he may have gone AWOL when presented with the evidence you gave us. Find him, and do it quietly. Also, it may be in your best interest to have a detail from here on out.”
The door behind her shut, leaving her disconnected from the man and his assistant. This left Octavia in the halls of the Orbital Senate Chambers as she left for her ship; issued to her by the senate since the approval of her program.
After embarking on her ship, she contacted the only one whom she could rely on. As the display in her office lit up, an aged man with graying sideburns was present. He, too, was in his own office, so she was free to speak with the man before her.
“Admiral Wolf,” she began. “Do you have time?”
“I do, Ma’am. How may I be of service?” he replied.
“Is the 4th Raider battalion still attached to your fleet?” she asked. Wolf nodded in response silently, to which she continued. “I need volunteers for a task force. I need covert, and experience for this one.”
“May I ask what for?” he said with heavy skepticism.
“General Brooke has gone off grid, and he’s wanted by the Senate for his experiment on the Sellians,” she explained. “It appeared he continued to experiment on them after we won the war, so it became illegal to do so. Instead, he continued the work, but now he’s gone.”
Wolf furrowed his brows at the reveal as he took her request and began to silently dissect it, “That explains it, then. We had a Raider owned ship reportedly take our first wave of prisoners during the middle of our campaign. To think he was experimenting on them. Who else knows of this?” he questioned.
“Ourselves and the Secretary-General. He wants it done quietly, so no pods, and no fleets,” Octavia added. “They want him alive, along with Doctor Hale; Brooke’s chief scientist on the matter.”
“I’ll see who’s available. How soon do they want them?” he asked.
“As soon as possible. I have too much on my plate, and my program isn’t ready for tasking just yet,” said Octavia.
“It will be done,” replied the Admiral.
The feed was cut, leaving Octavia in her room alone, and she peered out her window. It was a live feed from the view of the exterior with layers of hull separating her from the void. Her destination was Terra, where she was headquartered.
Life was going to get busy, and she knew it. Charities and numerous integration programs were presented to the Senate following the end of the war. She found the process too quick for her liking, but some programs were green-lit, and the private sector had already begun rolling out their social programs out to the Sellians.
She had seen it first hand, and many were shot down before even being given a chance to elaborate. She read many of them as they were introduced, with many blatantly centered around depriving the Sellians of their freedoms in the name of charity. As a result, the senate had locked down Sellian space until proper regulations were in place.
One such program passed, however, was pilot integration. Giving the Sellians the chance to fly with Terran pilots and to bridge their relationship with the rest of the occupied Sellian worlds. So far, they had only given that responsibility to one squadron, whose designation she couldn’t remember.
Thus, the world she knew had begun to change, and she didn’t know whether it was for better or for worse. All she knew was that she had a job to do, and it was her mission to execute it when the time came…
Several weeks would pass with her time on earth as she concluded a meeting of their latest progress.
“… Specialist Kurt is exemplary in his flying performance with the Mark Four Specter. We’ll be conducting high-speed pick-ups and drops with the new ship tomorrow, and I can offer a report then,” replied the voice who was feminine in nature.
“And what of the infiltration element?” replied Octavia as she scanned her data pad of the report in parallel with the disembodied voice.
“They’re all still relatively fresh from the Raider Depot, but so far, they have the best scores compared to the volunteers and those from the other branches,” they replied.
“How so?” replied Octavia.
“Specialist Spears has proven to be quite the capable leader, along with Specialists Cameron and Fields acting as his subordinates,” reported the female. “They have shown exemplary marksman skills and infiltration capabilities. Where did you pick them, Director?”
“I didn’t. They were recommended directly from Gunnery Sergeant Slaughter, simply for their small unit cohesion during their time in the Depot. As far as I am aware, they were part of the first wave of Raiders to drop into Artray as part of the 4th’s Cobra Company. I was told they earned their stripes that day,” explained Octavia.
“Their stripes, Director?” inquired the voice.
“It’s said that a Raider earns their blood stripes when they drop into a heavily contested combat zone. You have to get so many kills, and survive, to be called a ‘True Raider’,” she replied, emphasizing her last two words.
“Then that may explain why they work so well together,” they said.
“I have no doubt in my mind they have their fair share of trauma,” commented Octavia. “Will they be enough for a covert operation?”
“That’s… likely,” the female began, her tone largely unsure. “I don’t think it would be wise to issue them on a mission without proper leadership. Do you… have anyone in mind that can be substituted while we continue screening, Director?”
“In that case,” she said as she began searching her mind for a suitable stand-in. “I’ll forward a Cross-Branch request and see who catches. In the meantime, continue with the screenings and the training regimen.”
“Understood,” acknowledged the female as she ended the call.
Octavia rubbed her forehead in a tired motion. Since her arrival back on earth she had been constant in progressing her program, readying it for its first task. She had already received a report that their designated ship was nearly complete, as was the allocation of weapons, armor, technology, and ammunition.
Even before official acknowledgement from the Senate, she had already ordered research and development of a new set of armor and technology for her task force, but it fell through. Ultimately, she ended with surplus Raider armor which was colored black, with few adjustments. She was only allowed enough for one squad’s worth, and currently, the four Raiders were the only ones who could don them. They were already familiar with it so they had already broken into their new sets.
She still had more slots to fill, but it was a start. The crew for their ship was at least manned with a skeleton crew, with barely enough personnel to operate it, and at most, a fireteam that had already tasted combat. She felt it necessary that they may have to open screenings to the other branches, but to her, the most vital role to fill at the moment, was her infiltration team.
The galaxy was now open to them, and with it, the countless dangers that threaten humanity. She knew it, and so did her superiors. It was all they could talk about, so her urge to enact her program was a must.
She looked through her files once more, rereading them until the information became memory. She had then decided to land on a single file, detailing structure, asset allocation, and protocols. It was a document that would set the doctrine for a new covert program tasked with a mission no other branch had the resources to commit to. She read the top line, again, searing it into her mind, with many more like it to come, but they were to be the first:
>Terran_Reclamation_Unit_Black_Mamba<