Technically, I don't exist anymore.
That's what they told me after I was assigned to the Cry Havoc. Or at least that's what our Commanding Officer told us. Murphy was his name I think. I don't really remember much of the introduction ceremony. Most of my attention during the entire presentation was glued to the giant monitor that was present in the briefing room. Even with all the bickering going on around me and lack of any real space (seeing as the entire room was filled to above capacity with both Order of Basis Government and Expansion members) I was still able to drown the noise out. Fear does wonders I suppose.
Fear of what? Well, that's a damn good question. We still aren't sure what it was. All we, as in the entire human race, know as of right now is that whatever those things were that caused all of this insanity virtually came out of nowhere. The entire planet of Crucible was lost in a matter of hours. Completely destroyed. Not just the cities and entire population there, but the planet itself. The spot where the planet should have been was replaced with nothingness. The entire world was just gone. What remained was a large clump of massive asteroids. One could only imagine that it was the remains of Crucible.
Times like these, you have to think about religion. So many of them talked about the end of days and it brings to mind sights like these. Only something like that could really end the world as we know it. Not even nuclear war could stop the human race from surviving, but this might just take the cake. These 'things' can destroy entire planets in a matter of hours. Even the ground forces didn't have a chance to send a transmission. "We're fucked." "We're totally screwed". Or so that's what they've been saying around the ship. That was if you could ignore the tension. After the recent developments on Luna there was no love lost between the two factions. Where it not for the recent attack this ship would still be docked in a neutral system. And I would still technically be alive.
At least I don't have to fear dying anymore, right?
"Major Allan Gregory," a distinctly monotonous female voice echoed through my cabin, "You are needed in the hangar immediately."
I opened my eyes and a dull steel gray was all I could see. My sense of balance took a moment to take hold as I sat up in the stiff cot that was provided to officers. Not much better than the typical bunks that were offered to the enlisted soldiers but it was still better. The only reason I was happy to be in an officer's bunk was the privacy offered by the room. Unlike the Lieutenants, Captains and Majors, like me, were given single bunked rooms as opposed to double bunks. I gained my footing on the floor I realized there was another reason I was uncomfortable at the moment. Under my feet, a skin tingling electric charge pulsed a dull static into my toes and heel. The ship was in warp. This meant that most everything inside your body was thrown out of whack. I've heard stories of how bad some guys got it. I've heard of migraines, nausea, throwing up, blacking out, and hell; I even heard of some poor bastard that shit himself to death.
But those thoughts were irrelevant at the moment. I was needed somewhere at the moment. And if we were in warp that meant we had to be somewhere fast. Usually ships would just stick to their Faster than Light drives for inter-system travel, saving the Warp drives for emergencies. There was something very bad happening to a lot of people. Shuddering more from the thought of encountering whatever was attacking human's out there in space, I also couldn't help but grow chilly. My bare feet against the cold metal did nothing to ease the lack of heat that ships provided. Even with the engines maxed the cold vacuum of space combined with the increased cold of warp made it an uncomfortable 45 degrees at best throughout the ship. No wonder military armor was so warm.
So I marched into the restroom of my cabin quickly, looking at the mirror over the sink and lathered my face with a thick layer of shaving cream. Hundreds of years and some things never change. Hygiene was one of those things. I shaved quickly and washed my face. My prominent nose stuck out like always due to the evidence of a clear broken bone somewhere in there. I had sparred a lot as a Private. I had short blond stubble that barely covered the top of my head, matching my bright blue eyes as if to pronounce me as the very example of what Caucasian meant. Yet, I was still quite the standard human considering everything else that had changed in the past 900 years since humanity's real turn around. I had limited modifications to my body, mostly only those that were given to every OBG marine. Enhanced muscle and bone density, cerebral implants for quicker reactions, and even some laser eye surgery to give me perfect 20/20 vision, and even with all that, I was still quite average.
Once I was done cleaning off the rest of my face and brushing my teeth I walked out into the cabin once again. Tossing aside my sleep wear I grabbed the solid black bodysuit that was standard issue for OBG armor. The material slid over my body as I fit myself into it, pulling a hood over the top of my head. It was loose fitting at first before I zipped up the chest and pressed a small button on the breast of the gear. A jolt of static jumped through my body as the wetsuit like under-armor contracted to fit my form. If I were to be shot, ideally the suit should contract to my wound and stop the bleeding. Provided it were to even penetrate the titanium alloy.
After a moment of shivering from the muscle contractions that my body underwent from the jolt of electricity, I assembled the rest of the armor. It was very plain looking to be honest, showing the lack of creativity that the OBG had for its technology. Sliding on a thick Kevlar chest plate complete with shoulder plating and a few bandoliers, I moved onto the rest of my body, slowly encasing myself in silvery white ceramic like armor. It was fairly well designed if not unimaginative. Provided great coverage for my body but hardly restricted my movements. Even if it made you look like a walking crystal. However a lot of more adaptive units used reflective armors that could mimic the natural surroundings and it was likely the suit was only reflecting the silver of the ship's hull.
"Major Allan Gregory," the voice chimed again, "You are needed in the hangar immediately."
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I responded, despite knowing that the voice would not hear me.
I threw my rather plain helmet on, resembling a 20th century hockey helmet in a way if not more ergonomic, and walked out of the room. I didn't keep any firearms in my cabin at the moment. Thinking back on the recent events of the past two months I really should. Therefore, I was forced to stall even longer as I made my way toward the aft armory. The room was primarily locked down for the most part with many weapons still locked away in storage. Either there were a lot of unarmed soldiers still wandering around or we had an overhaul of extra weaponry. I would put my money on the second option, but it at least made finding my desired gear was quite simple. Pry open a few cases, pull out the rifle and a sidearm, grab a few clips, maybe a grenade or too from the far back. All in all it took about two minutes to get what I came for.
The rifle was called an Enforcer by OBG but it had some long official name that I never took the time to remember. Despite several hundred years of scientific advancement there was little to change when it came to firearms. In terms of design the Enforcer is vaguely similar to a rifle built in the 20th century and was likely based off the very model due to its highly modular capabilities. I stripped the combat scope off the curving top of the weapon but left the extended barrel as well as leaving the weapon in burst mode. The sleek and almost organic look of the weapon conflicted with the more rigid ceramic armor I wore and I wondered who could have possibly thought they would look good when used together. Without checking the safety I slung the weapon over my back, the magnets on the armor clasping to the barrel.
Another message chimed through my helmet's radio from the ship's com-systems. I ignored the nagging voice and marched down the halls. It took a few more minutes to traverse the rest of the massive ship that was the Cry Havoc. It was easily one of the largest human vessels ever created, if not the largest. It was also armed to the teeth with the most advanced OBG and Expansion technology. With massive anti-material cannons lining the side of the craft and a duo of Hades Micro-Nuke launchers, the ship was completely capable of defending itself from any other human craft it could possibly encounter in the galaxy. And that was all without factoring the fleet of fighters and bombers that the hanger had in storage.
I was able to get a glimpse of a fraction of aforementioned fleet as I burst through the retracting double doors that led into the hanger. For the most part, the hanger was comparable to a horizontal bat house. Dozens of layered "shelves" stacked one atop the other, each with varied rows and slots which could house the varied types of craft at their disposal and all accessible from a large 'service lane' that ran the middle of the room. As I walked down the ground floor that also served as the main deck rectangular blocks with powerful mag-jets on each corner were being loaded all around me. Called Trilobites, they were resilient craft that flew how they were shaped, like a brick. There was a slight buzz throughout the ship as it finally dropped out of warp. If there was one thing that OBG was good at it was timing.
"Major!" a voice called out. The speaker was clearly of British or Irish descent, likely some back water farming community in the reaches of OBG space or Expansion. For all I knew it could have been his home world that was attacked by their new foe.
I snapped to a salute, turning to face the captain of the ship. He was pale and tall, well groomed and professional. In a way he was the ideal visage of a captain of the time. Though without any real conflict in recent times there was no telling whether or not he was up to the challenge. Hell, if anyone could deal with an entire planet being destroyed he would be first in line to meet them.
"At ease soldier," he said without saluting back.
Such informality was something I found a bit discouraging. The weight of uncertainty caused me to lose track of my thoughts. He could have at least spared me a moment's salute for the sake of routine, at least to take my mind off the fact that we were probably walking into a trap.
"You called me down here, sir?" I asked.
"I'm sure you already know what's going on Major," Murphy's tone was grim.
"Are they attacking again, sir?"
"A planet went dark for almost three days, In the Rahlei system, Tandiko to be precise. We received a distress beacon several hours ago.
"How long until we get there?" I asked quickly.
"We have just arrived in system," my superior replied without looking to me, "Expansion forces have arrived on the far side of the planet. They have not encountered any hostiles as of yet."
Expansion, what most OBG forces called the "Consortium for the Expansion of Humanity's Values", are often referred to as 'militant hippies'. Their leaders protested how humanity strip-mined so many planets and destroyed countless ecosystems. But what could you do to stop it? Humanity was growing even more rapidly than it was during the turbulent 21st century and finding inhabitable worlds fast enough to accommodate the influx of new life. Many of Sol's space stations were already becoming over-inhabited as living in the home system was something of a social status.
"Major Gregory?" the Captain broke my train of thought, "Are you ready to go to ground?"
"Yes-sir," I snapped my body rigid and regained my composure, "What are my orders?"
"We don't have orders here. Just do whatever you can to contain the situation."
"Sir?" I swallowed before continuing, "All-due respect, but what exactly is the situation?"
The Captain rubbed his eyes before finally turning to face me. I could now better assess his features and I understood why he was so short with me. Stress and uncertainty had twisted his expression into one of iciness and indifference, the innumerable responsibilities he faced a burden too great for any man to take on. I immediately regret my decision to pry.
"We have no contact with anyone on the planet, assume a hostile invasion," was the only response I got, "now gather your men and get down there."
I snapped another salute and turned, glancing over my shoulder once to see that the captain was also moving on. Gather my men and get down there. 'A descent in the dark', something that hasn't been done in hundreds of years, was what many marines referred to the fearful operation of landing on a foreign planet without intelligence. It wasn't often for many recruits to be familiar with the operation as modern technology made a descent into darkness outdated. But the old dogs like me and the captain knew all too well about how those operations went; back when humanity was still in its space travel infancy and scanning worlds was something that many expeditions couldn't afford. So landing blind on a planet's surface with only relative knowledge of the environment was a typical thing in the 2600's after Earth got wiped out.
There were a lot of confidential files explaining first encounters with an alien species. The galaxy was certainly capable of producing a wide variety of different life-forms, and it was a personal interest of mine to research them. Of course anyone could find out about the plants and animals encountered they didn't tell you about the sentient beings. From time to time, expeditionary forces stumbled upon a primitive race of intelligent creatures. Not unlike dolphins of the early 21st century, the immediate response was to attempt communication with them. Of course this was only a lie when it came to interplanetary life. The dolphins inexplicably died of plague several decades after their civilization began to develop. Many blamed the residual pollution from the 20th century and the adaptation to cleaner energy and lifestyles blossomed. All in all, their extinction was a sad but necessary evil for humanity to advance.
This was not the case for the other sentient races that humanity encountered over the next millennia. More often than not entire civilizations were wiped out by humanities encroaching influence. Worse there were also reports that some species were enslaved by humans and forced to work to destroy their home world. I never looked into those accusations. I don't think I have the heart to know whether or not humanity was actually capable of such horrific acts. Maybe I just didn't want to accept what I already knew.
Never before had humans encountered anything more than simple tool makers or even moderately intelligent pack creatures. But full blown space invaders? That was just a concept portrayed in media, still. Nobody really knew what another space faring race would be like when we encountered them. When it came to possible alien motives, the good old films from the mid 20th century had just as much relevance as the newest ones. It was reasonably heartbreaking from my point of view. Now I had to kill the very thing I found interesting my whole life.
Soon enough my feet brought me to a Trilobite. TeeBee-17 to be exact. It was the ship my squad was assigned to before we even boarded the Cry Havoc back in Sol a month ago when the OBG first started recruiting. Only the best were selected from their various fields of work. Though I had no outstanding achievements on my record worth mentioning I was a good soldier. I dotted my 'I's and crossed my 'T's. In retrospect maybe I should have done something more productive with my life.
"All right boys," I gained the attention of two or three marines in my squad, "Orders from headquarters just came in. We're dropping in the dark."
The phrase alone caused half the squad to turn and look to me. I gave them a cold and harsh gaze back, clearing my throat instinctually. Some of the younger men were still gathering up their gear, the archaic term passing right over their heads. I felt bad for them. Considering the level of threat we were facing I found it difficult to make the brevity of the situation more tangible.
"Get your gear stowed, Marines! I want boots on the ground twenty minutes ago," I barked, slapping a younger boy on the back of the head to get him moving faster, "we are on a schedule and E.T. does not appreciate tardiness."
The boy moved faster and a few others zipped their go-bags and threw them over their shoulders. I clasped a bandolier around my torso and waist and decided to forgo any further gear. Something in my gut told me fifty pounds of equipment wasn't a good idea.
"Sir? If I may?" a sergeant, likely my second in command, spoke up.
"Speak freely, sergeant."
"You said E.T., Sir. Are you talking about… aliens?" the man seemed skeptical. Honestly I couldn't blame him. Not many people believed in aliens even now. At least none as technologically advanced as humanity.
"What do you think?"
The brusque man's jaw stammered, evidence that his words left him. A few of the other men were now staring intensely in my direction, and a mixture of fear and anxiety washed over my squad. I stared hard back at them as best I could but let's be honest here, I wasn't the best example of courageous in the first place. I was smart enough to get this far, but I haven't been in real combat in a few years.
"I think we're going to be talking about this one for a while boys," was the best I could manage.
I forced out a dry and likely all too loud laugh before climbing into the open shell of the Trilobite. It was part of why the ship was called as such, as it might have looked like legs sticking out of a strange insect from above. The walls of the craft folded up in an ovular shape with supports running vertically at three points along the rectangular hull.
Two of my squad climbed aboard from the opposite side, facing me with grim expressions. Feeling doubtful for the mission's outcome, I turned to face around the hangar. Many of the ships stored above were still inactive, meaning most of the craft was absent. I couldn't imagine why but those squads on the ground floor were at least more talkative than mine. Maybe the other squad leaders knew less than me. After all, I would be the commanding officer for the entire operation. At least the operation that they told me about. Somehow I felt like there were a lot of people being kept in the dark. Trying not to think why, I gazed out around the deck.
Before I could really do more than grasp the size of the hangar, and how there was strangely little activity, the ship rumbled beneath my feet. My gut twisted into a knot as the doors of the vessel hissed and began to fold down. The light of the hangar faded and was replaced with the red glow of the interior lights. For the first time in the entire day, I felt true dread for what we were going to be facing. I stared at the wall, hoping that my squad wasn't looking to me for emotional support.
It felt like I had just boarded a one way trip and there was no getting off.