First chap out, wow feeling like an author now.
Again any feedback is welcome, feel free to point any errors or improvements.
Note: I'm trying to keep some things vague in these starting chapters so I have more to work with later on and to avoid early info dumps.
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Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Syra checked her equipment once more, ensuring all her clasps and pouches were secure, her mask fitted properly and her weapon in working order. Completing this ritual of hers, she looked up to see Ted seated in the aisle across from her.
Looking through the lenses of Ted’s mask she could see his eyes smiling back at her as he shifted for more comfort.
“What are you grinning at?” She snapped at him, though she felt her own mouth curve upwards. It seemed Ted’s grin was infectious even behind the thick respirator mask and hood, leaving no skin exposed.
“Look at you, so tense. What is the worst we’re gonna find, huh? All I’m worried about is getting dust in the rifles or losing something.” Ted joked from opposite her as Max leaned over from the left.
“Yeh, we’ve been through worse than this. I mean come on, I’d rather do this every day rather than spend two hours in the Deeps where we normally are.” Nodding his head sagely Ted murmured his assent before looking back to Syra.
“Are you two just trying to be dumb? We haven’t even seen the surface in two thousand years, who knows what there could be up there, for all we know, all our information on it is wrong and we’re just being sent to our deaths. And even if we don’t die immediately, what do we know about what lives up there? For all we know the aliens may have landed and just taken everything.”
Shaking her head in disgust and stabbing her figure at them as if to drive her point home, Syra continued, “No, until I have it on good authority that the surface is safe, I am going to take every precaution to survive.”
Chuckling to himself Ted wheezed, “Yeh, but don’t you think it’s a little overkill, I mean you’ve gone over that kit about thirty times now and besides you got us to watch your back.”
“Not too sure I that’s a good or a bad thing Ted,” said Max as he flicked one of his pouches open, “If you can’t even check your own gear I’m not too sure I would want you checking mine.”
Syra softly laughed to herself as the two began bickering over who was better organised and began checking her kit one more time, before taking another look at her surroundings. The squad was in a long train like structure, all bare metal and with the welding clearly visible, with two rows, one along either wall facing inwards so they could see the soldier opposite them. About twenty people in all, brought in from each division of the military and handpicked, strapped into their chairs so they weren’t injured by the extreme speeds of the lift.
Along the centre of the room enough provisions were strapped down to last them six months, consisting of mainly rations and water, as well as some basic equipment such as tents, sleeping bags, spare masks etc. It was the result of a team of military scientist aided by several A.I. attempting to predict the worst case scenarios and what the soldiers would need.
Satisfied that everything was in order, Syra settled down to nap despite the nervous energy filling her and coming from her comrades. As she slowly relaxed Syra cast her mind back and began lightly dozing.
_____ Flashback_____
Syra groggily raised her head and glared at her alarm clock from across the room, hoping that her stare would convince it to be silent. When her best efforts failed to cause any change she crawled out of bed with a groan before turning on the light.
Slowly looking around her small room, just big enough to fit in a small bed, wardrobe and desk, and with much of the carpeted floor hidden beneath clothes and paperwork, Syra slowly got dressed into her uniform; lightweight boots which moulded themselves to her feet and dark camouflage trousers and a dark grey shirt.
Leaving, she grabbed her utility watch and hurried to the bathroom. Everything was empty at this time apart from those whose alarms ‘failed’ to go off and didn’t have time to talk.
Nearing one of the sinks, Syra splashed some water on her face and scrubbed some sleep out of her eye and, straightening up, looked in the mirror. Greeting her was a shortish woman no more than 25 with dark brown hair and green eyes, with a well-built body (a result of the tough military training and her own personal fitness). With a moderate bust and scar starting above her left eye and running upwards into her hairline, she was no beauty model, but could still turn heads.
Shaking her hands dry she turned and jogged down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria to catch up with the rest of her team, bursting through the double doors and taking the stairs two at a time. Taking a corner sharply, the only warning she got was a shadow across her vision before she collided with a huge and seemingly immovable object and promptly fell back on her butt.
Looking up, Syra saw a huge bear of a man looking down with clear annoyance bordering on anger. Easily over six and a half feet, the colonel towered over her five feet six inches easily when standing, let alone when she was sitting. Scrambling to her feet and she stuttered, “S-sorry Sir, I didn’t see-.”
“SEE WHAT?!” roared the colonel, causing Syra to shrink back in fear while the other soldiers in the area suddenly remembered they had to be somewhere else. The colonel meanwhile, known as Colonel Red Eye due to the cybernetic replacement, which glowed red from the scar tissue on the upper quarter of his face and who was feared for his temper, sighed, “Look, you know the rules: no running in the corridors. Do not let me catch you again.”
Syra was stunned as she watched the big man walk past her. Red Eye was known for his harsh punishments for any infringement on the rules, yet she was being let off scot-free. Shaking her head over the incident Syra, now walking, entered the mess hall. It was more of a buffet area in all fairness, with a long table with food and drink at the far end of the room and long rows of tables running from one wall to the other.
Scanning the sea of not-so-tidy diners Syra caught sight of her squad and rushed over to grab a seat, not bothering with breakfast. Plopping herself down with a sigh and filling a cup with water from jug at the centre of the table she asked, “Hey guys, what’s news.”
Instead of the usual response she was instead met with a disbelieving silence as the whole squad turned to her.
Eventually it was Kate, the squad medic who was even shorter that Syra, blonde with a much bigger bust and almost model-like features, who answered, “You mean you haven’t heard?” After Syra just shook her head while looking blankly at her, she fidgeted slightly, “Rumour has it that the higher ups are planning a mission… to um… the… the surface.”
“What?! Wait hold on, this is a joke right?” Syra refused to believe it. Probably just one of their jokes again she thought to herself. There’s no way they would go back there. Indeed, for many of the dwellers beneath the Earth’s crust, the surface was treated with both fear and respect, but mainly fear: a mythical place with the remnants of a bygone age. Most people’s reasoning was sound: If they had to flee before, there must have been good reason. No one knew what actually happened during the Fall, only that it resulted in them having to run or die.
The looks of her team however showed that this was not the case. Ted just grinned at her saying, “Apparently they believe that after two thousand years, the surface may be habitable again. So they’re sending a recon team to take samples and have a look around.”
That would explain Red Eye’s mood earlier then, Syra mused, If I had to plan a mission to the complete unknown… “So what, anything else known, or only that it is happening?”
Kate just shrugged, “We haven’t heard anything b-,”
Suddenly the speakers in the hall blared out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, attention please. Soldiers Syra Mirway 033389, Ted Holland 033276,” the voice went on to list several other names before saying, “please report to briefing room 04 immediately, I repeat…”
Syra glanced up at Ted, “What’s this about? The trip to the surface?”
He just shrugged in response, “Dunno, but we better go check before they send someone to get us.”
Hastily they both left the hall and followed the corridors to the briefing rooms after bidding everyone a quick farewell. Ted unusually seemed deep in though and met Syra’s attempts at questions with nothing but grunts and nods, clearly not listening.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Reaching room 04 they knocked and entered to be met by the gazes of eighteen other soldiers who quickly turned back to the front.
“About bloody time!” exclaimed Red Eye from the front, “Grab a seat and let’s get started.” After making sure that everyone was seated and paying attention, he loudly cleared his throat and began. “As I am sure many of you are aware, a plan has been proposed by the council to attempt resettlement of the surface.”
Muffled gasps rippled across the room before being silenced by Red Eye’s glare. “The first stage of this is to send a recon team to the surface via the maintenance lift. Upon reaching the surface, the team is to begin collecting samples of as much as possible and taking readings.”
Pausing, the colonel swept his gaze across the faces of those present, “That is your primary task. Your secondary task is slightly harder: attempt to find any clues as to the nature of the Fall.”
Again, his words word met by uncomfortable shift and mutters from the audience. “Everyone here has been handpicked to form the most cohesive and effective unit possible. I assure you soldiers, if you are unable to complete this mission, no one can.”
Silence swept across the room until one man raised his hand. “Sir, do we have any intel on the surface? What conditions to expect? Any hostiles?” He was old for a soldier, possibly about 35 it seemed to Syra, with an eyepatch over his left eye and a strong jaw line, though she couldn’t guess his height as he was still seated.
Professional as all hell, thought Syra to herself as she examined the man, the only one to not show any reaction to their mission.
“No,” was the only answer given, “any drones we have sent to the surface have gone dark after about two klicks in any direction due to radiation, however it seems the entrance is in a desert of some kind but that’s all we know.”
Everyone began exchanging worried glances. No intel? What are they thinking? Syra glanced at Ted and saw him returning the troubled gaze.
“Heh, perfect.” A voice growled quietly from the back, faintly robotic in nature and seemingly without emotion, though faint anticipation could be heard. “It’s about time we got a challenge.”
Turning angrily Syra saw another man, similar in age to herself, however he looked as though he had been dragged backwards out of hell’s own personal arsehole. One complete arm had been robotically reconstructed and under his shirt it seemed much of his chest was in the same state, running up the side of his neck and across his throat.
On the arm itself, it seemed he had added his own modifications for combat as well as some strange scuff marks along the forearm. These were explained as, with a satisfied grunt, he pulled a ten-inch-long bowie knife out of his boot and began sharpening it along his arm.
Interesting use of equipment Syra thought as another woman in the room snapped at him, “Cut that shit out Emile. No one’s got time for that crap.” The woman in question was also quite young, with fiery red hair, shaved on one side and a swirling tribal tattoo on the back of her shoulder which ran up the back of her neck and across her shaved scalp, visible due to her tank top and green khakis.
With a sneer Emile put away his knife before the woman turned back to the Colonel, “So when do we start?”
With a grim smile he answered, “As soon as we’re done here.” Clearing his throat quickly before continuing, “Now for your deployment. There are twenty of you in here. When we leave, you will be in fire teams of five, each with a leader, assault and CQB specialist, a sniper, a demo expert and a technician. You will each receive individual orders in each fire team as well as a quota for samples and I will be in command and oversee the operation so don’t even dream of changing or faking your samples. We hope to be out in the field for at least two months.
“The list of teams is up on the board as well as your missions. I want you all geared up and in the lift in two hours. Slips for the armoury are by the door. Any questions?” When nobody spoke up Red Eye simply grunted and left.
Syra eagerly hurried over to the board to check her fire team and, upon finding her name, felt her heart falter. Whaaa… Why?
Pinned to the board was a scrappy piece of paper with uneven columns and terrible handwriting scrawled across it:
Fire team 4
Leader: Syra Mirway
CBQ: Emile Anders
Sniper: Max Barkmore
Demo: Liz Pillam
Technician: Ted Holland
Why am I leader!!!? Syra was beyond speech. I not qualified for this much responsibility!
A familiar chuckle came from behind her and turning, Syra was met Ted’s grinning face. “Don’t worry Syra. I’m sure if you fuck up too bad they’ll let you quit.”
Glowering at him for a moment, Syra said nothing before huffing and moving off to grab an armoury slip and leaving.
I’m sure there are people much better qualified for this job thought Syra as she moved down to the weapons store. I mean, I’ve only been here about, what, two years?
Lost in her dilemma, the next two hours flashed by before she found herself standing in front of the lift looking into the fours faces of her new team. An awkward silence had descended as four people scrutinised their new leader.
Finally, it was Ted who broke the silence, “So, I’m guessing some introductions are in order then.”
Nodding, the man from before, Eye Patch boy huh? Mused Syra, spoke up. “I’m Max. Guessing I’m the sniper here then. Don’t worry though. I only need one eye to shoot straight,” grinning as he shouldered a huge rifle which seemed taller than he was, as well as all his other kit. All desert camo of course.
Chuckling Ted carried on, “Hehe, I’m Ted. Technician here.” Fixing his trademark grin he turned to the woman who had upbraided Emile earlier. He seemed to be in standard equipment, nothing fancy.
With a faint smile she said, “Liz here. Yeh, I like blowing stuff up, give me enough to do and I’ll follow you into hell. Just when I say ‘get down’ hit the fucking deck. I don’t like pulling punches for ‘safety’.”
The way she spat the word made Syra faintly worried as she inspected the large number of fuses, detonators and grenades hanging from her rig and caught sight of an under barrel grenade laugher fit to her rifle. Before she could say anything Emile spoke up.
He was taller than Syra expected, having to crane her neck up to see his face as he spoke, “Emile. First in last out, don’t get in my way. Oh yeah, if any of you call me Anders at any time, imma gut you.” His unemotional voice put her on edge, but no more so than the huge riot shotgun strapped to his back and the faint screeching of his knife as he sharpened it. Over his chest and belt, a huge number of shotgun rounds were fitted as well as his armour, I’ve never seen anything like it. Familiar to riot police armour, but with more sharp edges, the armour gave off an intimidating aura and seemed like it turned the man into a walking tank.
“Well, I’m Syra. Guess you all know that though. Now, errr…., ah yeh, fire team 4. Our task is to find the source of the Fall. No more.”
_____ Flashback end_____
Syra was jolted awake by the lift coming to a sudden halt. Surrounded by sudden activity, Syra quickly unbuckled herself and turned to face the doors.
Opening, it revealed a large, open area. Similar in dimensions to a hangar with the lift in the centre. Moving out, the soldiers began moving to the doors directly ahead with all their kit.
“Fire team 1! As you are our most short ranged team, you will help me set up an FOB here. Everyone else. You have your orders. Move!” roared the colonel.
Turning, the three fire teams faced the doors as they slowly opened, letting in blinding light and flooding the room with heat, before they began to move.
First time on the surface for two thousand years thought Syra, what could go wrong?