- POV: Johnsen -
Eternity.
That was the only term that came close to capturing what Johnsen felt as he found himself locked in the gaze of the Cyan before him. The girl's eyes, self-illuminated and otherworldly, seemed to open a chasm of the Void itself within his mind, momentarily paralysing him with its overwhelmingly infinite expanse.
Requiring a sheer effort of will, he finally managed to avert his gaze, a shiver involuntarily coursing through him—no doubt the unsettling aftereffect of meeting the Cyan's eyes.
Though he'd heard countless stories of Cyans, this was his first time encountering one in person. He had initially dismissed the tales as exaggerated, especially considering the girl's beaten and dishevelled appearance, making her appear almost pitiful. But after locking eyes with her—those harrowing, endless eyes—he understood the foundation of the myths that shrouded her kind.
Something was inherently unnatural about Cyans.
Something deeply disturbing hidden within the depths of their eyes…
Before he could delve any further into these thoughts however, the girl before him interrupted, snapping his focus back to the present.
"I swear, I won't overdraw my Focus again on this mission," Thea stated, her voice tinged with a determination that caught Johnsen off guard.
He'd been prepared for her to agree—grunts usually did, whenever a Medic told them to do something—but her fervour seemed slightly mismatched to the gravity of his request.
'I guess that’s the best I’m gonna get…' he mused, battling internal frustration before finally exhaling a resigned sigh.
"Very well, Private. I'll lend you some of my Focus to top you up for the mission."
Bending over her, as she was still laying on her back from the previous examination, he placed his palms firmly on her shoulders and initiated his Ability.
"Listen to me, don't fuck this up. I mean it," he warned, his eyes locking onto hers one final time before uttering the mental command for his Ability to activate.
‘Focus Link.’
Immediately he felt the familiar sensation of something far more profound than a mere physical shift; it was as though a vital part of his very essence was being syphoned away. This feeling, akin to a cold, spectral liquid coursing through his veins, radiated from his hands down through his arms and spine, permeating his entire being. Each pulse seemed to sap not just his energy, but a fragment of his very being as well.
It was a deeply unsettling, alien sensation—like willingly fragmenting one's spirit to fill another vessel. The experience felt not just unnatural, but downright sacrilegious, as though he was meddling in a domain where mortal men were not meant to tread.
Yet his face remained a stoic mask, showing none of the existential discomfort he felt.
He was practised enough with this Ability to know that the discomfort was temporary, but each time he enacted the link, he couldn't shake off the ethereal eeriness of it—the uncanny feeling that he was sharing more than mere energy; that in some unspoken, intangible way, he was exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself to another being. And all the while, that cold, liquid sensation continued to flow through him, like a river carrying away pieces of his inner self, until finally, he felt that Thea had gained enough Focus from the transfer.
Releasing his hands from Thea's shoulders with a sheer effort of will, Johnsen abruptly severed the mystical link between them. Despite his seasoned composure, a shiver involuntarily rippled through him. This phase—breaking the connection—always felt like teetering on a precipice, a dangerous moment where inattention could lead to a disastrous fall.
The cautionary tales from his mentors echoed in his mind; stories of medics who, lost in the surreal sensations of [Focus Link], had overdrafted their own reserves.
They were cautionary tales for a reason; many had perished due to that same error, consumed by their own overextended Focus or, at the very least, incapacitated at crucial moments.
The [Focus Link] Ability was a double-edged sword, as perilous as it was potent. Johnsen had once required constant supervision when employing it, another set of hands ready to snap him out of the trance should he lose himself. Though he had moved beyond needing such oversight, the "what if" always gnawed at the back of his mind every time he initiated the link.
Snapped out of his introspective reverie by Thea's animated tone, he heard her exclaim, "Wow, that felt...strange. But really awesome! Thanks a lot, doc!"
With a slight shudder, Johnsen tried to shake off the residual feeling of the cold, otherworldly substance that had flowed through his veins during the transfer. "Don't forget your promise," he responded, his tone tinged with a touch of weariness.
As Thea began to rise, energised by the newfound Focus, he placed a firm hand on her shoulders, pushing her back down. "Hold on, where do you think you're going? You're not cleared for duty yet."
Her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, right, sorry! I felt so good, I totally forgot about the whole check-up thing."
His brow furrowed in confusion. ‘Forgot about the check-up? Just what is going on with this girl? Even if Venn needs her skills, I can’t possibly clear her for action in this state… Can I?' Suppressing a deeper sigh, wrought forth from the depths of his core due to the hassle of his role, he said, "Look, Private, during the initial examination, I temporarily sealed your wound. I have to reopen it to remove that shrapnel. Stay still."
"Roger that, sir!" Thea's response came bright and eager, her smile a grotesque curve due to the misaligned skin on her face. "Go ahead. I can't feel much right now. Probably some strong painkillers my squad medic gave me or something."
His eyebrow involuntarily shot up beneath his visor. 'She doesn’t even know what her medic administered? Are they all utterly incompetent? Medics are supposed to brief their patients of the basics they administered to prevent accidental overdosing!' Agitated, he reached for his data-pad to pull up Thea's medical profile, only to pause in astonishment at the extensive, and unsettlingly detailed notes appended to it.
'What the...?'
Johnsen's eyes scanned through the medical notes with increasing incredulity. He had never seen such a meticulously detailed record. Each administered stimulant was not only listed in chronological order but also marked with the exact local time down to the second. Special symbols grouped stims that had been given in tandem, and a complex colour code system identified multiple uses of the same type of stimulant.
His eyes widened further as he delved into the procedural rundown.
Every action that had been taken was described with a precision that could rival a scientific, surgical textbook.
The depth of each cut into the skin was quantified to the millimetre, the realignment of bones was mapped out with articulation and even drawings to further elucidate the exact location and changes to them. Even the suturing was detailed with the type of stitch, the material of the suture, and the exact distance between each stitch.
He only briefly did a double-take when he simply read “System Hair” as the material, but then quickly remembered about the [Surgeon’s Toolkit] line of Abilities and continued onwards.
For a moment, he was rendered speechless. 'Who is this Karania? A squad medic or a fucking medical researcher?' he thought, bewildered. It wasn't just the level of detail; it was the fact that it had all been recorded in what must have been a chaotic and hazardous environment. A field medic with such commitment to precision was downright unheard of.
His previous questions about Thea’s mental state were also finally answered when he read one of the last entries on the list.
[11:34:31 - Administering Mnemorix A-23]
‘Ah. That does it. I guess it makes sense, with the double Focus booster being required to get her back up… Just how far gone was she…?’
The entries further detailed an impressive cocktail of muscle relaxants and painkillers, ‘Not to mention, she has more muscle relaxants and painkillers in her than I’ve ever seen on a Private. How is she even moving around…?’
The Amnestic alone could explain her odd demeanour and lack of awareness regarding her medical situation. Alongside the copious amount of other pharmaceuticals in her system, it was a downright miracle that Thea remained not just conscious but mostly combat-ready.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he focused back on the task at hand. "Alright, Private. Let's get that shrapnel out of you. Given these incredibly detailed notes from your medic, I'll make sure to update them with the same level of care. Brace yourself; this won't take long."
As he prepared his instruments, Johnsen couldn't help but think that there was much more to this situation—and to Private Thea—than met the eye. And whoever this Medic Karania was, he had a feeling they'd be crossing paths sooner rather than later—and he was weirdly looking forward to that.
"Stay still; I'm making the initial incision now," Johnsen warned Thea, carefully guiding his vibro-scalpel into the recently sealed wound.
The offending piece of shrapnel had managed to penetrate a less-armoured section near Thea's right ribcage, slightly below the armpit. As Johnsen operated, he deftly manipulated his tools to avoid damaging the Spectre's advanced armour any further. With one eye on his data-pad, which displayed a real-time scan of the impacted area, he cautiously navigated the narrow opening he had created to grasp the embedded shrapnel.
With surgical precision, Johnsen manoeuvred his tools through the confined space. Yet, something felt off; the scan on his data-pad couldn't completely account for the disorienting sense that Thea's internal structure wasn't where it should be.
Similar to the unsettling discrepancies in her facial skin, her bones and muscles were also slightly misaligned, as if her very anatomy had shifted subtly from standard human architecture.
Ignoring the unsettling feeling, Johnsen refocused his attention and soon located the shrapnel. He deftly grasped it with his specialised forceps and withdrew it, ensuring no further damage was done. His thoughts briefly darted back to Thea's overdrawn Focus. 'Just how altered is she? How far gone was she during the overdraw…?'
With those thoughts floating in the back of his mind, he sealed up the incision, applying a fast-acting medical sealant that would ensure swift and relatively painless healing.
"You're good to go," he finally told her, still quietly contemplating the mysteries her condition presented. “I’ll let the Staff-Sergeant know you’re cleared for duty. He’ll brief you on the mission in a bit. Just don’t get killed before then, alright?”
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Before giving Thea a chance to respond, he briskly walked over to where Staff-Sergeant Venn was stationed a few metres away, the sergeant engrossed in issuing orders through his comms
Seizing a moment to quench his persistent curiosity, Johnsen once again accessed Thea's medical profile on his data-pad. With a silent nod of gratitude for Medic Karania's meticulous record-keeping, he located and opened the lone incident report attached to her profile.
[Incident Report 0001 - Severe Focus Overdraw]
[Incident Time: 11:32:13]
[Initial Presentation: Patient unresponsive, exhibiting haemorrhage from eyes, ears, and mouth.]
[Anomalous Findings: Utilisation of [Eyes Of The Medic] yielded erratic Focus measurements for the patient, [DATA EXPUNGED]]
[Initial Treatment: Administered two doses of Soris S-04 at 11:33:11 following a responsiveness check; patient's condition was deteriorating rapidly. See "Medical Report 0001 - Nova Serene" for details.]
[Counteraction: Administered two doses of Holrix B-43 at 11:33:32 and 11:43:03, interspersed with [Blood Transfusion] to maintain stability of the patient.]
[Physical Restoration: Performed basic repair on the patient's musculature, skin and bone structure, compromised by System's reclamation of overdrawn Focus; further surgical intervention likely required to fully re-instate patient.]
[Psychological Care: Administered Mnemorix A-23 at 11:34:31 to mitigate severe psychological trauma associated with Focus overdraw.]
[Adjunctive Therapies: Three doses of Pontiax P-13 and additional doses of Soris S-04 were employed; for an in-depth record, consult "Medical Report 0001 - Nova Serene."]
[Stabilisation: Focus overdraw successfully neutralised; patient considered stable as of 11:43:48.]
[Post-Treatment Notes: Treating practitioner subsequently deceased. Patient remains uninformed about administered treatments and current status.]
[End of Report.]
Johnsen scrutinised the report again and again, his brow furrowing deeper each time he read it.
'What's with the redacted section?' he pondered. 'Two Focus boosters barely got her back to a stable state? Those should regenerate 50-100 Focus each, meaning she was at least -60 or -70 in Focus. How is she still alive after all this?'
Just as he was about to dive into another cycle of rumination, Staff-Sergeant Venn interrupted his thoughts. "Johnsen, you've got that look again—the one that says there's a problem. Is this about the Private?" Venn's voice carried a tone of concern, even if his face was hidden behind a helmet.
Shaking his head slightly as if to scatter the lingering cobwebs of his previous thoughts, Johnsen made eye contact with Venn. "Yes, sir. I've got some serious reservations about her overall state."
Venn arched an invisible eyebrow behind his helmet, the shift in his posture revealing his intrigue. "Reservations? Speak."
"She's chock-full of meds, sir. So drugged up, in fact, she didn't even feel me pulling a piece of shrapnel out of her. On top of that, she's been administered an amnestic—Mnemorix A-23—to shield her from the psychological trauma of what looks like a Focus overdraw." Johnsen's voice tinged with disbelief.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Venn's entire posture screamed concern. "Focus Overdraw? That's no minor hiccup..."
Johnsen nodded gravely. "Exactly, sir. It wasn't your standard overdraw either. By my rough calculations from her squad medic's incident report, she must've been at least negative sixty or seventy in Focus. And, there's a curveball—a section of the incident report is redacted. Written less than fifteen minutes ago and already redacted? I've never seen a redacted incident report in the field, much less having heard of one being redacted that quickly." As he spoke, Johnsen handed his data-pad to Venn, displaying the disquieting report front and centre.
Venn took the data-pad from Johnsen, his eyes scanning the text. For a few long moments, the only sound was the constant gunfire rattling against the shields and past their sides, as well as the ambient chatter of the communications network buzzing through his helmet. Eventually, he handed the device back to Johnsen, locking eyes with him as he did through his helmet.
"So, Johnsen, the real question is—can she still perform in the mission or not? Despite all these red flags?"
Caught off guard by the question, Johnsen opened his mouth to argue. "Sir, I think we should find out what that redacted part is before—"
Venn interrupted him, holding up a gloved hand. "John," he said, employing a more familiar address. "You and I both know the UHF has its reasons for keeping things under wraps. We don't always get to know the 'why,' and usually, it's for our own good. You've been at this long enough to know better."
Johnsen hesitated, his training warring with his instincts. He looked at Venn, recognizing the weight of the question for what it was—a request for trust. Trust in their years of service together, trust in the Faction they were both a part of. After a heavy sigh, he finally nodded.
"Yes, sir. She should be functional for the mission, at least for the next two to three hours. After that, the medications will start to wear off and she'll likely crash; hard. But until then, she's as combat-ready as any Marine could be, considering our situation—perhaps even more so."
Venn's posture eased slightly, and he nodded. "Alright, John, if you say she's fit for duty, that's enough for me. I'll brief her along with the rest of the squad. We can't afford to delay."
As Johnsen turned to walk away, refocused on his medical responsibilities, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder. Swivelling around, he met Venn's eyes through the helmet. The Staff-Sergeant offered a serious, pointed nod before striding off to gather Thea and the select squad for the upcoming mission.
Returning to his duties but with lingering apprehension clawing at his conscience, Johnsen had one persistent thought: ‘You better keep your promise, Private Thea. I swear, if you fuck up and waste my Focus on this mission, I’ll haunt you in the Void myself…’
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- PoV: Thea -
Thea didn’t realise she had spaced out, ever since Medic Johnsen had left, until the brisk voice of Staff-Sergeant Venn abruptly pulled her back to reality.
"Private Thea, you've been cleared by Johnsen. Follow me." She quickly fell into step with Venn as he guided her back to the trenches she'd originally emerged from.
"Don’t get hit. We can't afford to lose you now," he said tersely.
In a display of speed that left Thea amazed, Venn surged forward, propelling himself toward the trenches at an astonishing speed. Not a single shot from the Stellar Republic's side followed him; he was simply way too fast to target. Thea found herself pondering if she would've had the skill to get a clear shot on him had their roles been reversed.
'If that's a Tier 1 Prime, what kind of monsters are higher-tier Marines?' she mused while readying herself for her own sprint.
Choosing not to activate her [Improved Sprint] skill again—opting to preserve stamina for the mission ahead—Thea dashed through the narrow no-man's-land that lay between the protective shield and the trenches. She could practically feel the multitude of gazes from Stellar Republic soldiers following her as she ran.
Then, an inexplicable twinge in her chest tugged her to the right.
Trusting her gut, she adjusted her trajectory with a slight sidestep, while continuing her sprint towards the trenchline. A laser bolt hissed past her, missing by mere centimetres.
'As long as I trust my instincts, I'll be fine,' she assured herself.
Leaping into the trench, Thea almost collided helmet-to-helmet with another Marine. "Ah, sorry, my bad," she stammered, hastily retreating a few steps to give the soldier some personal space.
She surveyed her surroundings and realised she had joined a compact unit of five Marines, including herself and Staff-Sergeant Venn. What struck her immediately, however, was the intense focus directed her way from every member of the group.
'Why are they all staring at me?' she wondered.
An uncomfortable silence pervaded the air until it was broken by a female voice beside her—the Marine she had nearly bumped into earlier.
"Am I fucking crazy, or did this bitch just blindly sidestep a laser coming from behind her?"
The other Marines nodded in agreement, their visors fixed on Thea as if to confirm whether she’s actually real.
"How the fuck did you do that?" the female Marine addressed Thea directly.
Before Thea could think about the answer in-depth, she heard herself blurt out, "The Staff-Sergeant ordered me not to get hit."
Thea's eyes grew wide in terror as she heard her own voice say such a stupid line.
'There goes my chance for a good first impression...'
A brief moment of silence followed, which felt like an eternity to Thea, before the squad burst into all-out laughter.
Even Staff-Sergeant Venn couldn't manage to stifle a chuckle at her ridiculous statement.
"Alright, enough of that," Staff-Sergeant Venn clapped his hands together, instantly commanding the attention of the group. "Let's get to the introductions. You've already met Private Thea here, who apparently has a knack for dodging lasers and following orders to the letter. She’s with Sovereign Alpha and she’s the sniper for this operation. She also does scouting, so she'll assist Viladia on the way."
Venn gestured towards the female Marine who had spoken up earlier. "Private Viladia," Venn continued, "our light armour stealth expert from Spear Platoon. One of the few scouts we've still got after the drop."
Thea felt a thrill of excitement; it was rare to see another light armour Marine, and she highly appreciated the skills needed for stealth and reconnaissance work.
‘Maybe I can even learn a thing or two from her!’
"Next, we have Private Morin," Venn gestured towards a heavily-armoured soldier carrying an imposing gun leaning leisurely on his shoulder. "Morin's one of my guys, and he packs enough firepower to level a small building."
Lastly, a Marine in medium armour came into focus. "And this is Private Einor. He's our provisional medic for this mission. Lost his squad in the mortar strikes, so he's with us for now."
Thea studied the armoured visages of her new squadmates, each one a unique blend of abilities and expertise.
'This is like an all-star line-up,' she thought. 'Perfectly suited for some kind of critical mission, probably something like infiltration or assassination.'
"Alright, now that we're past the formalities, here's the mission," Staff-Sergeant Venn began, his voice taking on a stern, no-nonsense tone.
"The 27th and 28th Companies are on their way to join us. However, during the recent mortar strikes, our drones—while intercepting the incoming fire—spotted rocket artillery nestled deep within the Stellar Republic's rear lines, approximately 2 to 3 kilometres into the forest. If those artillery units are operational when the 27th and 28th try to link up with us, we can expect catastrophic losses."
Venn paused for a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink in before continuing. "That's where you all come in. Your objective is to infiltrate enemy lines, advance through their territory, and neutralise those artillery positions. The intelligence suggests minimal defensive personnel around the artillery—they're mostly occupied with the ongoing frontline conflict. Your unit should be more than capable of handling it, if you’re resourceful. Whether you dismantle the control systems or simply blow the artillery sky-high, I don’t care. Just make sure it's no longer a threat.”
The gravity of the mission weighed on each squad member, momentarily stealing their words, but their focus remained locked onto Staff-Sergeant Venn as he continued the briefing.
"For this operation, your team will be designated 'Strike One.' I trust that we won’t need a 'Strike Two'. We’re running low on capable Marines as is… Private Morin will be taking the lead on this mission, as he’s the most experienced out of all of you. Also, if the mission fails, it’ll be his ass on the line, so it’s a win-win for everybody involved. Now, any questions?"
Private Einor broke the silence, his voice unexpectedly deep for a man of his build, considering that he was easily 10 cm shorter than Thea, asking, "How do we get back?"
Venn paused, his chuckle belying the sober reality of the mission. "Optimistic, aren't you, Private?"
He regained his composure, his tone becoming more serious. "Truthfully, there's no formal extraction plan. Once those artillery units are taken out, you'll have Stellar Republic forces hot on your tail. Retracing your steps might be an option, but don't hold your breath on that one. This ain’t really one of those missions you’re planned to come back from, I’m afraid.”
"Hmm," was all Private Einor managed, retreating back to his original position, visibly immersed in thought.
Next up was Private Morin. "So, extra pay on the table for this one, right?"
Staff-Sergeant Venn snorted but gave an affirming nod. "Of course. And for your assessment records, this counts as a major objective. So don’t fuck this up."
Morin chuckled to himself, punching the air in a small victory gesture. "Knew that sticking close to the SL would pay off someday."
Thea felt an immediate kinship with Morin upon hearing this. 'Glad I'm not the only one who wondered about that part. Even happier that I didn't have to be the one to voice it! We're all gunning for the high score here—a competition I can definitely get behind.'
Venn locked eyes with Morin, his tone turning stern. "Morin, it should go without saying, but you need to be on your A-game for this. Our performance for this assessment is already shaky due to the Stellar Republic's ambush bullshit. We can't afford for this mission to fall apart. Understand?"
Morin exhaled deeply, then grinned. "Understood, boss. I'll be on my best behaviour, you have my word."
"Very well. I trust the rest of you are equally committed to making this operation a success," Venn said, nodding approvingly.
Shifting to a more empathetic tone, he continued, "I get it. This mission is no walk in the park, but it's essential. Never forget—you're UHF Marines, the elite of humanity. Show these freaks no mercy. Be swift, be stealthy, be effective. I expect those artillery units to be neutralised within the hour, so we can finally get into this emperor-forsaken forest."
The assembled team seemed to straighten up, invigorated by the reminder of their purpose. A surge of pride bubbled up within Thea, even though she'd only been part of the UHF Marine Corps for less than a week.
"Unless there are any more questions, you have your orders. May the Emperor's light guide you. I expect a favourable report soon."
As Venn prepared to hoist himself out of the trench, Private Viladia's voice halted him. "Hold on a sec! Are we not gonna discuss how this patchwork-looking-ass bitch over here dodged a freaking laser from behind her while in full sprint? Hello? Am I the only one who finds that insane?!"
Chuckling and shaking his head at the exasperated Private looking around in an attempt to find supportive voices among the squad, Venn propelled himself up the trench wall and sprinted back towards the shielded area, leaving the newly assembled ‘Strike One’ to their own devices…