The dark was all encompassing. Its presence was undeniable, and it dominated the entirety of the shuttle. The only visible light source came from the mouth pieces of Franks fellow troopers combat helmets. While it was nearly devoid of light within the space craft, it was certainly not lacking in noise. The constant creak of the outside atmosphere smashing against the shuttles thick blast shield doors occupied the entirety of the relatively small and cramped cabin.
Then, suddenly, a new noise joined the fray.
"Okay men, get ready, Touchdown in 2 mikes."
It was Centurion Peddle. Franks CO. The man he followed. The man he had come to trust with his life over this long and devastating war.
"Hey Jon, what're we expecting" asked Frank.
"Intel shows a couple Alliance squads in the area. No more than 20 shits. Nothing we can't handle. That's only where we're landing though, once we're inside, well, that's a completely different story" Said Peddle while simultaneously loading his Mattock with a fresh thermal clip, "Gus, pop up objective on your tool".
"Roger" was Gus' simple answer.
The shuttle exploded into orange light as the mans Omni tool opened, showing the map of the Alliance fuel station they we're preparing to hit. The station, located deep within the Kepler Verge cluster, was one of the few operating fuel points that remained under Alliance control. Nearly all others had either been destroyed or occupied by the reapers. Or Cerberus. And, while Cerberus controlled a few stations, including Omega, it was not enough. The fleets under its command were in constant demand for an ever increasing amount of fuel, and the stations it controlled were beginning to run dry. If Cerberus was to survive, it needed more fuel. It needed this station.
"Okay," began Peddle, "When we touchdown, we're only gonna have a few seconds to get ourselves orientated. Those Alliance shit heads are gonna come down on us hard. Fortunately, according to Intel, these guys are drained thin. Most don't even have enough clips to use their rifles. Some are gonna be sporting handguns. Hell, some may only have a fucking knife. With our rifles, and heavy shields, we should cut right though the bastards."
"Sir", began Private Adwater, "once we kill 'em, where to from there?"
"Once they're dead, we're gonna split up into two teams. Team one, led by me, will breach into the fuel plant at its weakest points here and here."
Suddenly, two new points appeared on the tool, located at the base of the plant.
"While we go in here, Frank will lead team two up here, to the roof, where you'll rappel down through the windows. You should be able to get on to the rail platforms running across the plant, where you'll be able to provide some suppressing fire. With our combined fire, those fucks inside will be dead before they know what hit them."
"And then?" asked Frank.
"Then, we'll advance west through the facility together, one team high, one low, until we link up with Beta and Charlie squad, who're doing the same thing as us on the other side of this place. Then, we make sure all hostile troops are dead, and secure the area. Then yadayadyada, command sends reinforcements yadayadayada".
And with that, the display closed, plunging the ship into darkness once again. A small audible beep was emitted from Paddles helmet.
"10 seconds. Let's do this shit men".
10. Frank checked his rifle. 9. Breathe in. 8. Breathe out. 7. Breathe in. 6. Breathe out. 5. Breathe in. 4. Breathe out. 3. Breathe in. 2. Breathe out. 1. The shuttle landed and the door slid open.