GALACTICA

Here's chapter one of my second ever fanfic.

Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I dont own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Chapter one

Hi, my name is Perseus Jackson but everyone calls me Percy (actually, no-one really calls me Percy. I have a nickname). I'm a twenty-three year old human and I stand at six foot six (which is lucky because if you're over six eight and a human you're not allowed to join the army) I am also extremely muscled from my years of training I do, and every girl I've ever met has called me hot. Except my mom, but that would just be wrong. Anyway, I have cropped jet black hair (it's the army, it's got to be that way) and sea green eyes. Well, I say sea green, as that's what I've been told by my mom, as I've never seen the sea. I was born on the planet Thraxia, which is a city planet. I come from a section called New New New York. I am a member of the intergalactic Marine Corps (I.G.M.C), and I fight for the glorious golden age empire, lead by our supreme lord and emperor, Kronos. The I.G.M.C. is one of the seven special branches of the empires fighting force. The Marine Corps are a group of Commandoes, arguably the best in the galaxy, and then there's I.G.S.S, or intergalactic secret service, who are the special agents and spies of the empire. The next group is Omega Force, who are a bunch of commandoes hailing from the galactic aristocracy, and families with a lot of money. They get all the best equipment. Then there are the Intergalactic Storm Troopers, who are some of the best assault troops in the galaxy. Then there's the Arm Div, or Armoured Division, which contains some brilliant heavy weapons teams and vehicle specialists, as well as the ship div, who are the crack pilots more commonly known as The Aces. The last specialist group is N.H.A.C, or Non-Human Army Corps. Anyway, I am a proud seven year veteran of the Space Marines (what we are commonly known as). Anyway, enough about me and my army group, and back to the present.

'Yo Snips, what you doing?' Hot-Head said.

'None of your Fucking business' Snips replied, looking seriously angry. I guess I should explain about the names. You see we are a squad of eight hardened warriors, who have been fighting together as a group for the last seven years, so we've got nicknames and are like brothers. Theirs Sergeant Mellish, who is Sarge, then theirs Private Mansk, who is Hot-Head (the name reveals his personality). Then there's Private Samson, who is the second in command and known as Hard-Head, as he's got metal plates in his head from a previous injury. There's Snips, who's really short and is really Private Grobowski. The next in our squad is Private Capiche or Deadeye, the squad sniper, as well as Private Jones, known as Bang-Bang, for being our explosives expert. That leaves Private Daneshi, who is stitches the medic, and then there's me, Kiddo, as I'm the youngest. We are on this routine mission to a planet called Olympus, where the imperial governor was overthrown and by a rebel council of thirteen who call themselves 'The Olympians'. Our Mission: Kill the leader, a guy named Zeus and stir u trouble in the villages and towns, so that the peasants would rebel and overthrow the Olympians in the name of the Empire. We were all messing around, as soldiers do. We all knew what Snips was looking for. We had stolen his signed football, and yes, we still have football in this day and age, as it's a great sport. The ball in question was signed by the star quarterback of the Plegia Desert-Rats, Glock Mys'huiti. I support one of the surviving 'original thirty-two teams', the New New New York Giants, but that doesn't matter. The only squad rule we had was that we're not allowed to steal (or borrow, as Hot-Head calls it) anyone's family stuff, like photo's or shit like that. Anyway, we were just joking around and taking the piss out of Bang-Bang, when a voice came in over the comlink.

'We are approaching Olympus, please prepare'. At this, we all grabbed our weapons (or knives. The only weapon we were taking was the sniper rifle and we had to steal the rest). We were dressed in civvy clothes so we could blend in, and suddenly we were all serious. We were just running through the plans one more time, to make sure we didn't forget anything, when there was an explosion.

'Engine one is down' the pilot said. I know what you're thinking. You probably think that we're on some massive six-engined battle cruiser that's virtually indestructible and can fight of anything. Well, you're wrong we're in a AC-297 series six, which is a thirty year old twelve person passenger ship which is falling apart and has been modified to give up seats and comfort space for a built in on ship armoury. We were in a civvy ship because we needed to look like civilians. It also meant we only had the modified class three laser cannon, which was nicknamed 'unreliable'. There was another explosion.

'Engine two is down' the pilot told us. 'Prepare for emergency landing'. Crap. Emergency landing meant crash landing, and the procedure for an emergency landing was to "sit in your chairs with your seatbelt on" for a ship like this. It wasn't a particularly brilliant protocol for emergencies, but hey, if it gets me out of it alive I'm not complaining.

'You know the drill' Sarge said as we all buckled up. I hate being on a ship, or in a vehicle of any kind, as you put your life in the hands of machinery, while I'd rather rely on my own body and courage to get me places, as I am pretty confident in my skills. I was feeling this sort of helplessness as the ship fell and the metal started getting hot.

'Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six' the pilot said with increasing nervousness with each number he said. 'Five, Four, Three, Two, One, impact time' and then there was an explosion, a jolt, a ripping sound, and then I was flying through the air. I hit a wall, and numbness shot through my body. I couldn't move which was bad, and I didn't feel pain, which was bad. Then, I got a terrible pain in my head, which was good, but I still couldn't move. I was just forced to lay there, as my life ebbed away, hoping someone would come and either help me or acknowledge my death. A while later, I was still conscious, when I saw movement out the corner of my eye, and then there was a guy in my face. He had curly brown hair and little horns poking through his hair. He checked my pulse, and then spoke.

'I got ya buddy' he whispered in my ear, and I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn't work. He shouted the next line out, so I figured there must be more people. 'I got one' he cried excitably. 'I got a live one'. There was more movement around me, and then I blacked out.

There's chapter one.

I hope you liked it.

Please review

Tom.