RLS Valiant, in orbit above Wars World

Ten soldiers sat along the main table of the Valiant's briefing room. On one side sat Marshall Bellamy and the four highest ranking generals in the fleet. No man was younger than forty, with grayed hair and dressed in perfectly arranged military uniforms. These men could command entire armies with a wave of a finger, and held orthodox strategy and doctrine in the highest regard. Across from them sat their polar opposites. These junior officers normally commanded smaller battalions and combat groups and viewed military dogma as mere guidelines, not rules. Bellamy cleared his throat.

"Alright, let's begin." He said. One of his aides activated the display at the center of the table. Omegaland and the country of Black Hole came into view.

"This is our target. Black Hole is a dictatorship, and has been for awhile now. Conscripts form a large part of their military forces, and civilian unrest and resistance movements are rather prevalent. Our campaign will start by deploying Kodiacs within the enemy borders. The Special Forces will seek out rebel factions and army dissenters, gaining valuable intel and resources. A small uprising will then be used to bait a Black Hole force to this city…here…Earnstown. Our main forces will then begin planetfall."

"What if they request assistance from the other countries?" one general asked.

"Black Hole is currently the enemy of the rest of the world. They will not ask for help, but rather censor any news of open rebellion, as it could denote weakness…giving the Allied Nations a chance to strike." Bellamy responded.

"What of the latest transmission from Command?" another officer asked.

"Yes, Red Storm has recalled all of our combat vessels save the Valiant and her escorts, citing the Thirteenth Legion has no need for warships, as the denizens of this world have no spacefaring ability. That means we will be unable to provide orbital strikes until resources can be gained from the defeated Black Hole." Bellamy admitted. "General Wells, please explain the structure of command for the invasion." A tall dark-skinned officer stood and crossed his hands behind his back.

"The command structure of the invasion will be as follows. Command of units in the field will be designated to the junior officers here. Senior officers such as myself will remain in orbit to serve as tactical advisors. That way all Red Lightning forces will be following experienced strategists and tacticians who can think on the fly. All commanding officers will oversee their forces from one of the five Titans we have at our disposal." The mobile fortresses would be the linchpins of the invasion of Black Hole, as well as subsequent operations against the other nations. Each Titan had the firepower of a large battleship, and housed a specialized company of legionnaires.

The generals sitting at the table nodded in agreement. The five junior officers began to chatter amongst themselves. Marshall Bellamy silenced the room with a cough.

"Titan assignments will be announced shortly. Dismissed."

---

The RLS Henry Zellman drifted away from Valiant and the rest of the armada. The fat-belied transport ship entered a shallow orbit around the planet, lurking behind the arrays of satellites that monitored the surface below. Wide hangar doors opened to the blackness of space, releasing several matte-black craft that barely stood out in the darkness. Slipping between the satellites, the stealthed entry shuttles pierced the upper atmosphere, appearing as nothing more than flaring meteorites to the eyes in the sky.

Passing into the mesosphere the craft deployed their cargo, black canvas gliders, before boosting back into space. The gliders drifted earthward silently, passing over the cities of Omegaland, shrouded in night, the people below ignorant to the approaching storm.

One of these gliders landed in the hills outside the city of Woodruff, situated in the western part of the continent. As soon as the craft landed twelve men rapidly disembarked, deconstructing their transport and tossing the pieces into the scattered brush. The men moved with the skill and efficiency of soldiers, but were dressed in civilian garb. If one looked closely, however, one could see blocky body armor and compact weaponry under their coats. Their job done, the men turned to their apparent commander, a imposing looking man with blond hair fashioned in a military buzz-cut.

"Captain Skoren, sir. We're all done here." One man announced. Skoren nodded, reaching into his coat and drawing out a small box and a lighter. Popping a light blue cylinder from the box between his lips and lighting it, the special forces captain inhaled deeply, blowing a small cloud of azure smoke that smelt strangely minty. Mint sticks, a cigarette-substitute consisting of flavored chemicals and a mild tranquilizer, were Skoren's personal vice, and the man carried the smell of peppermint with him at all times.

"Alright, let's find a place to sleep for the night, and we'll start our search tomorrow. Get some materials from the glider…we'll have to camp the old-fashioned way until we can get our hands on some Black Hole currency."

With that the soldier marched off in search of a campsite, blowing cobalt rings of smoke.

---

Five junior officers were the only inhabitants of the Valiant's officer's lounge. The Red Lightning ships were on their night-cycle and most men were tucked away in their beds. All of the senior generals had left for their quarters on their personal ships, and Marshall Bellamy had returned to the bridge.

Colonel Valshan wondered if the Marshall ever slept. As long as he had been under his command, Bellamy was always working. Try as he might, he could never recall a moment he saw his superior eat, or drink anything besides whiskey. He wondered if he seemed as inapproachable to his subordinates, but then dismissed the thought. It didn't really matter how his men perceived him, however. As long as he got the job done.

Scratching his short black hair, the colonel returned to the book he was reading. He hadn't been able to put the novel down: a harrowing tale of a young man and his adventures in a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland, and strived to finish it before he turned in for the night. His train of thought was interrupted mid-sentence by outburst of hearty laughter. Sighing, the officer set down the paperback and rose, approaching the offending party.

Two men sat at a table overlooking the lounge's viewscreen. While Colonel Valshan was still in his officer's uniform, the pair had relaxed their dress as soon as the senior officers had left. One man, rocking back in his chair dangerously, had unbuttoned his greatcoat and un-tucked his shirt. The other, drinking clear liquid from a flask, had disposed of both his shirt and jacket entirely, dressing in a white t-shirt and a grey vest with tiger-stripe camo print.

"Must you two be so loud?" he asked.

The officers looked up from their banter and, for a moment, silence filled the room. Then the two men laughed even harder.

"…told ya…he would get mad…worse than my mother!" the vested one managed to get out between bits of laughter.

"Come on Markus, lighten up." The other said. "If you don't find time for jokes every once in awhile in this line of work you'll end up killing yourself."

"There is nothing 'light' about our profession, Lieutenant Colonel Valdez. Our job is to win battles, not to entertain crowds."

Valdez grunted in response, turning his head to watch the stars beyond the viewscreen. The other man finally calmed down enough to speak once more.

"Come on, you used to be a fratboy. You used to have keg and toga parties every weekend, am I right?"

Markus huffed at the statement. Being the only CO to attend college outside the military, some had given him the moniker of 'fratboy.' In truth, Colonel Valshan couldn't have been farther removed from the party-boy stereotype that he had been branded with.

"Shokralif, I do not take kindly to that nickname." Markus had removed the man's title of Lt. Colonel in an attempt at an insult. The officer merely thought the Colonel was trying to be friendly, calling him by name instead of rank.

"Please, call me Matt." He said, slurring his words slightly. Markus shook his head and gestured at Matt's flask.

"That's contraband, you know."

Shokralif put on the most innocent face he could muster. "What? It's water."

"We all know it's not water." Markus said. "I can smell the vodka from here."

The officer capped his flask and put it in his vest pocket, changing the subject.

"So, Markus, you excited 'bout getting picked to command Kampher?"

"It was expected." The Colonel replied. "I am the best armored commander in this taskforce. It is only logical I was given command of Kampher. That is also why a sea wolf like yourself was assigned to Leviathan, and why Carlos here was given command of Javelin, being a master of artillery."

Matt acknowledged the compliment with a chuckle and offered Markus a seat at their table. The Colonel accepted the chair and the two began conversing amongst each other, Valdez tearing his eyes away from the stars to join in on the exchange.

"So intel says the commanders aren't pushovers." Matt said.

"Yeah, they're pretty young too." Carlos added.

Markus dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "Have faith in your abilities. I trust you two to get the job done. Our new arrivals, though, make me nervous." He gestured towards the lounge's other two occupants.

A young man and woman were situated at a table across the room, conversing. Both wore standard officer's attire, though the man wore a set of wings on his lapel. The woman had dark red hair down to her shoulders, while the man's curly-brown hair was cut short. The two were laughing at the punch-line of some recent joke, but abruptly ended when they noticed the others were staring at them. The two officers approached Markus and the others and stood at attention.

"I don't believe we've properly introduced ourselves." The man said, saluting. "I am Captain Lloyd Ellis, and this is…"

"I know who you are, Captain, as well as Captain Danvers here." Markus interrupted. "I've read both your files." The Colonel closed his eyes, reciting from memory. "Captain Lloyd Ellis, age twenty-two. Graduated from the Merrel Officer's Academy last year. No real combat experience…given this command position because of connections with the corporate branch."

Captain Ellis looked visibly affronted, but before he could reply, Markus began again.

"And Captain Marna Danvers, also age twenty-one. Graduated two years ago and successfully commanded a combat group during the civil war in the Vilnan system but suffered unnecessary losses due to rookie mistakes."

Danvers joined Ellis in turning a light shade of red. Once again Colonel Markus spoke before they could respond.

"I trust your training, but training is only half of what makes a good officer. Experience is the other. Until you have that, you will not be good officers, and I will not trust in your abilities. As you are now, you will most certainly botch the conquest of Black Hole, and this world."

With that, Markus stood and made to leave to room.

"Prove me wrong." He said, before disappearing from the room. The two younger officers looked ready to beat the Colonel to death. Carlos and Matt, on the other hand, could hardly keep from laughing.

"You're going to have to excuse Colonel Valshan. He's not very good with pep-talks." Valdez said.

"Pep talks!" Marna shrieked. "That was open debasement!"

"He has no right speaking to us like that." Ellis added.

Matt slammed his hand down on the table, silencing the young officers.

"Listen here. As long as Markus is Colonel, he can talk to those under his command any way he wants. And think about it. Was anything he said untrue?"

The two captains thought a moment, think shook their heads ashamedly. Captain Ellis looked down at his feet.

"Exactly. Now you two are inexperienced officers. The only way to remedy that is to get combat experience, experience you'll get in this campaign. The Colonel's challenged you to prove him wrong. You kids think you can do it?"

Ellis and Danvers snapped to attention once more, their salutes as crisp as their uniforms.

"Yes sir."


Colonel Markus Valshan was created by TheFlyingHotPocket. So ends the second chapter of The Rise of Red Lightning. I'm not really good with titles, and this one is kinda rubbing me the wrong way. Anybody got an idea for another title?