Mark “Coop” Cooper

Location: North American Eastern Seaboard, Smokey Mountains, United Commonwealth of Colonies

It took days to dig them out. It was funny, because they’d buried themselves in a series of explosions that took a matter of seconds. Coop rubbed his war-weary eyes as he led the vanguard of human survivors into the large maintenance bay.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Everything in the bay was destroyed: Spyders, weapons, repair racks, and even individual tools were finely dispersed matter. The ETs left no stone unturned, and then they destroyed the stone just for good measure. The look on the LCDR’s face showed she was mourning her battered and broken command, but he really didn’t give a shit.

He shot a glance in the direction of the tunnel where two scouts had pulled bis barbequed body to safety. He could tell where the grunts and Eve had started their defense in depth, and was thankfully they’d been able to hold on for so long.

“You good?” Eve asked as she marched up beside him.

They were both still in their armor. He didn’t know about her, but he wasn’t getting out of the extra level of protection until every last BAMF was off earth. He didn’t want to admit it, but nearly dying several times in the last few weeks meant he was going to need some cognitive therapy. Making sure those neural pathways didn’t develop and lead to stress disorders was critical for soldiers in the twenty-fifth century.

“I’ll be fine.” Despite being in a three-meter LACS, he wasn’t moving much faster than the rest of the Commonwealth personnel. He was basically dragging one leg like a cripple.

he told himself as he finally saw someone new.

The man who came forward looked beyond harried, and was wearing fleet CMUs. If his state of dress was mirrored by the rest of the fleet, then it was a miracle they’d been able to relieve to bunker at all. His eyes were bloodshot, he had a few days’ worth of stubble on his face, and there was flecks of blood on his uniform. He wore the dragonscale chest plate, and nothing else, which Coop took to mean he hadn’t really seen what a BAMF could do. He might as well be wearing toilet paper.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” his voice cracked as he tried to raise it so the hundred people in the bay could hear him. “We’ve got busses set to take you to secure areas. Large portions of North America are still contested. We have several breach heads established, and are gradually increasing out zones of influence. Admiral Gilmore believes we will have the planet pacified in one to two weeks.

the tired thought flittered across Coop’s mind.

“If everyone will continue through the east tunnel, we’ll get everything situated,” he pointed in the direction Coop’s near-lifeless body had been rescued from. “I’m going to call out some names. If those people could please standby: Warrant Officer Eve berg, Warrant Officer Mark Cooper . . .” he said a few more, but Coop stopped paying attention when his name was called.

It wasn’t dread that filled his stomach, it was resignation. He might be a battered hunk of shit right now, but his fight might not be done.

“Come on,” metal squealed against metal as she took his arm and maneuvered him out of the flow of people.

Once they were separated, the petty officer pointed them to the opposite tunnel. “You have a different ride.”

He heard the sound of guns over the Spyder’s engines right before he felt the jerk in his inner ear of the Spyder going into a combat descent. It wasn’t just him and the few people called out back in the bunker. The Spyder had made half a dozen stops at different besieged sites, and picked up more HI troopers. They all looked just about as beat to shit as Coop and Eve, so no one talked as the Spyder powered through the atmosphere to their destination. With the sound of guns, that destination became clear: the front.

Instinct took over as the slight vibration of landing shocked everyone into motion. It was clear everyone here were veterans as the popped their harness and unassed out of the Spyder. This was the most vulnerable point for them and the Spyder. Once they were clear, everyone would feel a little better.

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The assembly area where they debarked looked just like every other assembly area Coop had ever been in; which was a small comfort. Soldiers were moving around in formation to get wherever they need to go. Spyders were coming and going; dropping men and supplies in an endless stream to fuel the human war machine.

Coop saw dozens of soldiers grabbing supplies in exoskeletons and moving them to points farther forward. He instinctively looked up, and the V4’s HUD showed him the layers and layers of protective shielding crossing above them. It flickered every once in a while, as outgoing rounds passed through, but for the most part, the layers of energy were comforting.

All the HI just stood there in a gaggle until someone showed up tot take charge. No one knew who he was, but he was a full CMDR, so they fell into line and followed him. Once they arrived at their destination, everything became clear, and Coop breathed a huge sigh of relief. After the fight in the tunnels, he wasn’t ready to dive headfirst back into the shit.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Their destination was a large open are littered with other HI and old-school artillery pieces. All the HI were in the kneeling position taught in HI school as the proper fire support technique. The boom of their 125mm and 250mm spine-mounted cannons went off at irregular intervals, but the sight was just as comforting as the shields overhead.

A communications tech needed to stop by to patch them into the proper fire support net, and then the CMDR positioned them all in the open space. After than it was incoming calls for fire, and it felt like he was back in HI training. It was rote, relaxing, and the thought of his high explosive shells tearing apart BAMFs, roaches, and whatever the hell those alien bastards had in reserve, and blowing them straight to hell was as the best thing that had happened to him all week.

***

Benjamin Gold

Location: Aurum, Gold Technologies Corporate Territory, United Commonwealth of Colonies

Ben ignored the incessant beeping in his head. The IOR was a wonderful piece of technology that had revolutionized the way humans interacted and communicated in the last year. Everything was at a person’s fingertips at all times. You could shop, research, and talk with friends throughout the universe if you were rich enough, and will to pay the ridiculous QE fees to send messages across the galaxy instantaneously.

Theoretically, they were also supposed to have unrivaled privacy features. Despite the “do not disturb” feature Ben had activated, and a fuck off text he’d sent to the ID that was relentlessly calling him, someone was unwavering in their task to get a hold of him. He had a pretty good idea who it was.

Their honeymoon was long gone, and Jacobi had gone to work for Gold Technologies in the new Confederation of Corporate Interests. Despite his father’s wishes, the confederation was not Gold Technologies or vice versa. Thomas Gold might be the CEO of the ruling Board of Directors, as well as president and CEO of Gold Technologies, but in the first weeks of the new nation’s birth, it became apparent that not all the corporate titans that had signed on with Gold wanted him to be in charge. Like all politics, there were now competing factions forming under different ideologies. What made it a little different was that all the ideologies were pro-corporate and business oriented; it just depended on what degree.

Ben had no illusions that Thomas Gold was running the show. It just wasn’t as easy as his old man wanted it to be. That realization was almost as good as the sex on his honeymoon . . . almost.

Still, it sucked the Jacobi had spent the last few weeks being assimilated into the new corporate machine. Getting out of the infantry and into R&D was a dream come true for her, and her surname was helping. Ben knew she didn’t need to lean on the Gold name to get things done, and that she would conquer whatever obstacles the corporate world put in her path just as efficiently as she’d led troops in battle. He wasn’t worried about his wife, but apparently, people were worried about him.

For the most part, he’d spent the last few week sulking. It was the word he used, while others used less-flattering explanations for his actions. He knew he was sulking – or being a little bitch – as some put it, but he felt he had the moral high ground.

he kept telling himself.

Even worse was the timing of the defection. The battle for Earth had been all that was on the nets recently. Most of the QE buoys had been destroyed in Sol, but a few were salvaged by powering down, and once the battle was won, they were able to bring minute-by-minute updates of the devastation. Those close to earth, with a decent line-of-sight, were even able to show the battles taking place on the surface.

It was like watching a video game from hundreds of light years away, and it made Ben sick. Sick enough that he didn’t bother to reply when his assignment orders arrived by way of his father. The man didn’t actually show up to tell him he was joining the corporation’s newly minted fleet, but the IOR message had used pretty straightforward language. Of course, Ben just tossed it in the trash folder and ignored it.

He ignored the day his duty was supposed to begin. Ignored any calls except for his wife’s, and was content with sitting on the couch and catching up on the latest shows. It was amazing the storylines the came up with for mid-day soap operas.

The incessant beeping in his head stopped, and he refocused on what tomfoolery the inhabitants of a small colonial town were getting up to. He was guessing who was sleeping with who now when a terrible screech ripped through his mind. Pain radiated through his temples as he fell off the couch and his whole body seized up. He was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on when he blacked out.