Author's Note:
So, it's been some time, I understand. Maybe a month? A little less?
Sorry for the big delay, guys. I was originally going to have this chapter up and ready by November 1st or 2nd, once I had my first wave of College Applications finished, but a whole slew of other things kept me back from that.
And Fallout 4.
So, I do apologize, guys. Uploads will be regular from now on, hopefully. Not as frequent as in the initial chapters, but frequent enough.
This is a chapter meant for character development, so don't expect any action. But, if you do want to actually care for the characters involved in the action, be it space battles, ground battles, or political battles, give the chapter a shot.
Now, onto the chapter…
Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the UER.
Captain Hans Shepard stood silently, his hands bracing him against a holo-table. Blue and red lights and bars flashed across the table, and the man sighed before looking up. Across from him stood Colonel Vanessa Capet, to his right was Commander Jameson Molina, the XO of the RNS Crusader, and to his left stood a hologram of Captain Richard Montoya, captain of the RNS Starshina.
Montoya was a curious man, and was one of Hans' closest friends. Having served with him since they were fresh cadets, Hans trusted Montoya with his life, and had already trusted him with the position of "executive officer" of Battlegroup Autumn—if, by any means, Hans was incapacitated or even killed, Montoya would take over command of Autumn. While he had no death wishes whatsoever, Hans knew that in Richard's hands, the Battlegroup would run like a well-oiled machine.
Of course, while Hans was a bit of a maverick within the ranks of the UER Navy, often toeing the line of discipline, Montoya was as straight as an arrow—he had always been there as Hans' foil, the Leader to Hans' Lancer. There had been quite a few times where Shepard would have faced disciplinary action if it weren't for Montoya himself, and thus, the commanding officer of Battlegroup Autumn was thankful for the man's presence.
Bringing his mind out of his thoughts, Hans cleared his throat before speaking.
"Gentlemen, and lady, the Battle of New Mojave was a stunning success, and clears the way for further counter-attacks into batarian territory. We have the opposition on their back foot, and the hammer is ready to fall. Most of the UER Navy is prepped and ready, and we've bought them some more time to position themselves." Bringing his hand down to the holo-table, Hans swiped across it, the graphics moving across as he did so. "Colonel Capet, what are our casualties on the ground?"
The colonel stood ramrod-straight, her hands behind her back as she spoke. "Out of our 14,125 marines, 112 were killed and 514 are wounded. The deceased are being prepared right now, and the wounded are being treated. We'll have most of them ready for action within a few days or weeks."
"Thank you, Colonel. Prisoners?"
"None, Captain. All were executed."
Hans grimaced—he had never been a fan of the UER's iron-fisted demeanor in warfare, especially when it came to prisoners. Nevertheless, he set it to the side, before turning to Captain Montoya.
"Captain, I have reports that the rest of the Battlegroup is in perfect shape. Confirm?"
"Affirmative, Captain. We're all ready to go, no damage reported."
Hans nodded, before bringing his hand down to the holo-table once more. This time, it brought up a display of a solar system. One of the planets was highlighted—a frosty-white sphere, likely of frigid snow and ice. "Now, I've received further orders from NAVCOM. We're to set up a counter-attack, bring the fight away from our borders and into batarian territory." Pointing towards the highlighted planet, Hans looked up. "Battlegroup Autumn is to jump to the Kharsus System, in the Shadow Sea. It's a moderately-defended region, held tightly by the batarians. Recon shows that they have eighteen, maybe nineteen ships in the system."
"Our goal, however, is not the system itself—we can't hold that on our own. No, our goal is the fortress-world that the batarians are constructing on Marak-Tei, highlighted in red. Arctic, icy, frigid—the batarians have recently begun construction on the planet, and NAVCOM believes that Marak-Tei is a key batarian staging ground."
"What's the plan?" Captain Montoya spoke, crossing his arms.
"We jump into the system, move on the attack and take them by surprise. For our marines, I've still got a plan in the works, but that'll come soon. We have to wipe this base off the grid, however—nothing can remain. Any questions? Concerns? Red flags?"
The gathered officers were quiet, shaking their heads. Hans nodded, lightly pushing off of the holo-table as he did so.
"Then we're done here. All of you, dismissed. Commander Molina, plot a course to our destination, no need for rearms and repairs. Colonel Capet, top off your marines, make sure they're battle-ready within three days from now."
As Captain Montoya's visage flickered away, Molina and Capet turned away, leaving the small council room. Hans watched them leave before, with a few swipes of his index finger, he opened up his TacPad's resident email feature. Of course, while regular, non-official communications and emails were disallowed without the use of specialized terminals aboard naval vessels, secure channels disconnected from the rest of the network were enabled for use, and most officers had access to them on their TacPads.
Hans' fingers swiped quickly across the screen, words appearing in a letterbox format as he went along. A message to his daughter, Jane Shepard.
"Hey, kiddo. Haven't heard from me in a while, eh? How're you doing, Firebird?
Sorry for the lack of communications these past few weeks. I was able to send out a few messages to your mother and your brother, see how they were doing. Your mother is fine, still working her job at the Delsin Scientific Conglomerate offices, though she still misses her marine days. Your brother is on his summer break, and he still wants to become an Enforcer. I think that after his twelfth year in school this coming winter, he'll enlist at the Rapture Police Enforcement Academy. Shame on him, breaking the Schaefer family's proud tradition of Navy and Marine service—Army's just not in our blood.
Are you doing well, Jane? I know that you'll be finishing up your last training semester at JNOC—heard from a few sources that you'll be joining up with MARSOC. Good luck, if that's the case. And if you do, when you get there, look up a man named David Anderson. If I remember, he's still a Captain, but he'll be moving to Navy soon, so he'll go to Commander, or Lieutenant. I'm sure he'll help you out—he's a good guy, a good friend.
Well, this is it for me. It'll be some time when you hear from me again. Reason is classified, of course. Have fun, and stay safe.
Your loving father,
Captain Hans "Dash" Shepard (Schaefer)."
Looking over his message, Hans wore a light, wistful smile on his face, before hovering his finger over the "send" button. After a moment's hesitation, he pressed down on the button, sending the message to his daughter. Hans looked up from his TacPad towards the doorway, before making his departure.
Blue. White. Yellow. Green. Blue skies, sheets of puffy white hiding in plain sight, whispering across the great expanse above. The yellow of the evening sun, falling as it gave way to the throes of night, the moon glittering across the bottom of the horizon opposite. The green, the grass, waving and weaving, the fertile pastures and meadows rising and falling in hills and fields. This was his home, his heart. It was where he had grown up—a small town to the east, a colony. Fresh, airy, new. Warm. Home.
"Victor, Victor, come on, bro! Don't give up!" A voice—feminine, yet strong. Determined, always pushing for his success.
Another voice—male. Moderately pitched, a bit on the deeper end, crisp and clear. His own, years before. "Ha, easy for you to say, sis! You don't have a wounded knee!"
"Wounded my butt, Victor. That fall didn't hurt you at all. You're not a marine yet!" There, over the crest of the hill—a girl, maybe twelve or eleven. His sister. "Come on, hurry up! The light-bugs will be here soon!"
Pressure, on his legs. Running, up the hill—a slight pain in his knee, the right knee. There he was. A boy, sixteen or seventeen. A bandage, around his knee. "Come on, gimme a break here, Kelsey!" There. Her name. Kelsey. His sister, his sister—she had always pushed him forwards, gotten him to keep moving and succeed when he would have given up.
"Nope, no siree! Gotta catch me first if you want a break." She ran away, pulling farther and farther, and Victor groaned, before starting to run again.
"Argh, fine! You're gonna regret that!" He started to sprint, ignoring the pain in his knee, and he quickly caught up, his longer legs and more powerful muscles bringing him closer and closer. A few seconds later, he had reached Kelsey, and Victor grabbed her, raising her up onto his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and spinning her around. Squeals and laughs of joy and joviality came from both brother and sister, the sun slowly moving down as the evening air grew colder and colder. Eventually, he grew tired, and Victor dropped his sister onto the grass before flopping down next to her.
"Heh, good job, bro. You finally caught up this time, didn't you?"
He chuckled, resting his head on his hands as he looked up into the dark blue sky. "Yep, finally did, sis."
"How long did it take you? Seventeen years?"
"Aw, come on, Kels. Gimme some credit here."
"Nope!"
The two siblings simply lied silently, enjoying the cool air of the colony.
"Hey, bro."
"Yeah, Kels?" He turned his head to look at his sister, who was doing the same.
"Are you really leaving soon? To basic?"
"Sure am, sis. I'm seventeen, and I'm done with school. Gotta join up with the marines now."
She didn't reply, and at first, Victor regretted what he had said, not wanting to hurt his sister. After a moment, however, she spoke once more, her words surprising Victor.
"Hey, bro? When you do go into the marines, I won't be there. You realize that, right?"
"Uh… yeah? What are you getting at, Kels?"
She pursed her lips, a hand moving to her face, as if in annoyance. "Victor, when you join up, I won't be there to push you forwards anymore. I won't be there to motivate you. So, big bro… promise me something?"
"Yeah?"
"Promise me, that when I'm not there for you, that you'll still push yourself and your limits. Even without me, you'll keep moving forwards, and never give up."
"Yeah, yeah, I promise—"
She swiped a hand at Victor, hitting his head hard. "I'm serious, Victor! Never! Give! Up! No matter what! Promise me!"
Victor stayed silent for a few moments, looking back up into the sky, which had gotten eerily dark. "I… I promise. I promise, Kelsey. I won't give up. Ever."
Kelsey looked away, back into the sky, content with Victor's answer. "Good. Good. Now, it's late, dontcha think? We should head back home, or mom will get worried. Come on, bro."
The two siblings slowly got to their feet, moving back down the green fields and hills to the small town on the horizon.
"Hey, Rook. Rook. You there, kid? Wake up."
Lieutenant Victor Evans groaned, feeling quite sore all over as he slowly woke up. "I'm up, I'm up. What you need, whoever that is?" Victor opened his eyes, moving a hand to his eyes as he felt moisture.
"It's Bishop, and no, I don't need anything. Just waking you up, man—seems you had quite the dream. You were crying in your sleep, my man." Victor registered the voice—deep with an accent that seemed to be from the Earth city, New York.
"Crying? Oh, I didn't know. Bishop? Uh…" Victor racked his brain, trying to connect the callsign with the person. "Um… Maliq? Maliq Johnson?"
"That's the name. Now, wake up, man. Your shift is in forty-five mikes, anyways."
With another groan, Victor opened his eyes, sitting up as he did so. Wiping the water from his eyes, Victor took in the room—the cabin, where his team was garrisoned. To the side, sitting on another cot, was Maliq Johnson. The dark-skinned man grinned, pointing up to the side. There sat Lieutenant Valerie Black. "Black was the one who noticed you were crying."
Valerie chuckled, her legs crossed as she sat on her bunk. "What were you even dreaming about, el-tee? To make you cry like that?"
Victor looked up at his spotter, a slight frown on his face as he remembered his dream. Hesitating for a moment, Victor opened his mouth to speak. "Home. I was dreaming about home."
"Ah, home. We all get homesick sometimes." Black's face, however, adopted a sly smirk. "But that's not all we saw—or heard. A name, Kelsey? Who was she? High school sweetheart?"
Victor chuckled wistfully, looking down and grabbing his boots at the feet of his cot. "No, not that. She was my sister." He stopped for a moment, gazing to the side. "She always pushed me to succeed. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't even be here right now." Lacing his boots, Victor stood up and grabbed his fatigues—otherwise known as Battle Dress Uniforms, or BDUs, albeit without the armor and plating. Having slept with his fatigues' pants on, Victor simply slid on the shirt. He looked up, only to see a frown on Black and Maliq's faces. "What?"
"Was. You said was."
"…Huh?"
"You said she was your sister."
Victor looked away, a slight frown on his face, before making to leave. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter. My shift is in engineering, so I'll be heading off."
"You a techy, el-tee?"
"Affirmative, I like to think I know something about technology. I'll see you guys later."
Victor promptly left the room, waving his hands when he heard their good-byes. He made his way through the ship, eventually finding the elevator. Pressing the button for one of the many engineering levels, Victor waited as the elevator moved into the heart of the RNS Crusader. A few moments later, the lift dinged, the doors sliding open. At the top, a line of text red "Engineering Floor 2: Tactical Systems." Victor exited the elevator, looking around for the Chief Engineer.
"Ah, you a marine?" A man called out from the side, carrying a clipboard in his hands. Victor turned towards him, saluting as he did so. "I'm Chief Engineer Pennies. Name and Identification Number?"
"Yes sir. 2nd Lieutenant Victor Evans, Identification Number one-four-niner-dash-two-two-five. My work duty is scheduled for engineering?"
The Chief Engineer looked down at his clipboard, before stopping on Victor's name. "Ah, right. Here you are, Victor Evans, specialization is in weapons systems? Welcome aboard, your station is over there, where those two dolts are." He pointed to a man and a woman who were fiddling with a set of terminals, chuckling as he did so. "Have fun with 'em, el-tee." Victor nodded, moving to leave when Pennies suddenly stopped him.
"By the way, what the hell is an officer doing on work duty?"
"Special Assault Division, sir. Lieutenants are basically lances and corporals, and captains are sergeants. Just how it is, sir."
"Copy, well, best be on your way, trooper." The Chief Engineer walked away, preparing to deal with several marines in BDUs that had just arrived for their own work duties. Victor shrugged to himself, before moving to the two engineers that Pennies had motioned towards. Better introduce myself, eh? Make some friends…
"Hey, you two, sorry I don't know your names. My work shift is here?"
The two engineers stopped their work suddenly, as if startled, and turned around to face Victor. The man, bearing a crimson beard, smiled warmly. "Hey, nice of ye te join us. I'm Engineer Donnelly, and this is Engineer Daniels." The man spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, making his speech a bit harder to understand. He leaned towards Victor, cupping his mouth as if trying to pass on a secret. "Be careful around her, mate. She'll do somethin' nasteh if ye dinnae know whatcha doin'."
The woman, Daniels, punched Donnelly hard in his shoulder, turning to face Victor as the other engineer winced. She gave a salute before speaking. "Ignore him, sir, he's a right idiot when it comes to certain things. Like he said, I'm Engineer Daniels. You here on work duty, sir?"
"The hell ye callin' him sir for?"
"Shut up, dummy, he's an officer! Notice the butterbars?" Daniels then saw Victor's raised eyebrows, and coughed. "Um, no offense, sir."
Victor chuckled, a smirk coming to his face. "Relax, no need to salute me or treat me like an officer. Right now, I'm just another grease monkey like you guys. What do you need me to do? I'm here for a few hours, so I'd best make use of my time."
Daniels stood uneasily, still visibly uncomfortable with treating Victor as anything other than an officer, but Donnelly moved forwards, clapping Victor on the shoulder. "Well, we could use some more help over here. We can't seem to get this thing working with just two people, so we could definitely use a third. Dinnae know what's wrong, though."
Victor nodded, following Donnelly and Daniels to the console. "Well, let's take a look, eh?"
Corporal Kevin Bradley walked easily through the halls of the RNS Crusader's crew quarters. He had just stopped by the closest armory, dropping off his armor and gear before taking his leave for the mess hall. Having just completed his work duty for the day, Kevin was in dire need of some food and rest.
Since the adoption of the UER policy of fully stationing marines on naval vessels, all marines were set with the tasks of "work duties" on their respective vessels. While the crew of the ships were the backbone of maintenance, the marines were also expected to take part in keeping the vessel and its inhabitants in top shape. According to each marine's Vocational Specialization, something that was determined by the Vocational Aptitude Battery every single member of the UER military took, he or she would take part in different duties throughout the ship he or she was stationed on. A more technology-minded individual might find themselves tasked with maintaining a vessel's reactor, weapons systems, or onboard vehicles, while combat medics and the like would pitch in at their vessel's resident medical bay. Kevin?
Well, again, he was just a normal rifleman, so he was tasked with guard duty in the bridge. A job that he had, not a few minutes before, just finished.
Passing through a set of doors, Kevin found himself at the expansive mess hall, a large series of rooms that could house up to one thousand crewmen or marines at once. Bleak, drab, and utilitarian, the mess hall was, to the normal eye, not a place of comfort.
To the marines and sailors of the UER military? It was heaven on earth—space, rather. Yes, space. That idiom did not seem to work here.
Nevertheless, Kevin pushed forwards, pumping his fist when he saw the absence of any long lines at the various counters and kitchens. It made sense, since it was, for all intents and purposes, early morning for the ship schedule—the clocks ran by the time on the human homeworld, Earth. Making his way to the nearest line, Kevin took a gaze at what was on the menu—breakfast food, most likely.
Muffins, with sausage, egg, and cheese on bagels. Hash browns, which looked suspiciously like wood. A few fruits on the side, that all seemed to be dried and left in the sun;, milk, of course;, and finally, oatmeal. It was probably one of the better meals served on UER military vessels. Nevertheless, Kevin took a tray of a gray make and color, and proceeded to scoop out the various foodstuffs, making his way to an empty table where he could eat his meal in piece, grabbing a set of silverware as he went.
Sitting down, Kevin was about to dig in when a sudden slap on the table interrupted him. With a startled jump, Kevin looked up, greeted with the faces of his squadmates. Sergeant Gray, Private Cooper, Alves, and the Techy, Ybarra.
"Hey, Bradley, thought yah were gonna eat without us? Think again." Cooper's deep southern accent came with a smirk, one that was matched by the rest of the squad.
"Eh, thought you guys were still asleep. Fuckin' brass had to slap me with midnight-fucking work duty. You know how it is."
This time, Sergeant Gray replied, sitting down with his own plate of food in his hands. "Nah, Corporal, its 0500 right now, think we'd sleep in?"
Kevin took a bite of his bagel sandwich, making sure to swallow before speaking. "Yeah, actually, I did. You guys are a bunch lazy fucks, I do all the work in the field."
"Yeah, yeah, give yourself all the credit. Wasn't me and Alves that saved your ass yesterday, right?"
Kevin looked up at Gray, his eyebrow raised. "I have no idea what you're on about, sarge."
The rest of the squad merely laughed, taking their own seats at the table. Kevin continued to eat, quickly joined by his squadmates, when Alves tapped his shoulder.
"Hey, Bradley. You really like that muffin?"
"Uh, yeah. I do. Problem with that?"
"Yes, it tastes like ass. Like everything else they feed us, but a thousand times worse."
Kevin smirked back, enjoying Alves' genuinely perplexed visage. "Well, not everything's as good as your s'more's and campfires, boy scout."
"Hey! I'm proud of my badges, thank you very much. Spent nearly eleven years of my life in a troop before joining up for my mandatory service."
"And do I look like I give a shit?"
Alves covered his face with a palm, before proceeding to pick up his own silverware. "Ah, just shut up, Bradley. Not in the mood to deal with your sarcastic ass today."
The squad proceeded to eat their fill in silence, the occasional joke being cracked and the odd quip stated. The relative quiet was broken when Ybarra cleared his throat.
"So, you guys are pretty close, eh? How long have you all known each other?"
Sergeant Gray wiped his face with a napkin, looking at Ybarra before speaking. "Well, Bradley and I go way back—four years now, is it?"
"Yeah sarge, four years. You were a corporal back then, leader of Fireteam Bravo in my first unit. Squad was designated Pincer 2-1, if I remember correctly." Kevin said.
Gray nodded, taking a sip of water before continuing. "Yeah, Pincer 2-1, stationed on the RNS Arcadia—one of the last of the old Inquisitor-Class Carriers, got decommissioned two years back. Then we got transferred to the 31st Marine Expeditionary Division, which is the one we're with right now, in this Battlegroup. Alves and Cooper were added not long after, about a year and a half ago, and we sort of became Winter Company's 'crack squad'—we take most of the orders that need a bit more flexibility and finesse than most other jobs." He stopped for a moment to cough, hacking away as he went for his glass of water.
"Ya'll okay there, sarge?" Cooper said, offering to whack Gray's back.
"Yeah, I'm good, Coops. Anyways, that's what we've been doing since. Right now's the most action we've had in a long time, for sure." He looked back at Ybarra, raising an eyebrow. "What about you, Ybarra? What's your deal?"
"Well, I'm space-air force, obviously. Wasn't always an Enlisted Terminal Attack Controller, my first gig was a mechanic for an SI-97 Cardinal Interceptor on the RNS Vigilance herself—lead ship of the Vigilance-Class carriers." He looked up, hands behind his head as he got a reflective look on his face. "Ooh, those interceptors were fucking A, man. Beautiful crafts, could pull a Minimum Radius Turn at nearly three thousand kilos an hour with no problems."
He returned to his original position, smiling as he looked back at the squad. "Ah, but that's a tangent we should avoid. Anyways, I did work on the Cardinal's guns, L13 Basilisk Gauss Chain Cannons, Basilisks or GCCs as we called 'em. Twenty mike-mikes, three thousand rounds per minute. Soon after, though, I was transferred to the Special Space/Air Service, did infantry work for the S slash A force. Got high enough to Tech Sergeant, and now I'm an ETAC. Months later, here I am, with you guys, fucking around in the sandbox." Ybarra laughed at the end of his story, grabbing a spoon and taking a look at his oatmeal. "So, hopefully things go well, with this new war and all. We're fighting two wars now, on two fronts. One out, and one in."
Sergeant Gray set his spoon down, looking over to Ybarra before speaking. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll all come outta' this alive, Techy. Those four-eyes don't seem too much like a challenge to me—I have no doubt we'll be steam-rollin' 'em soon enough."
Ybarra nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Say, Gray—I've noticed you have that slight accent going on—you too, Coops. Where are you guys all from?"
"Oh, I'm from Boston, back on Earth. Had quite the time back there in my youth, played a few sports here and there. Cooper is from the same continent on Earth as well, but he's from a place called Alabama, or something."
Alves went next, setting down his glass of water. "I'm from Cedar II. Simple life, lots of commercial stuff on that planet."
Kevin hesitated for a moment before responding in turn. "I grew up on Rapture, myself."
Ybarra raised an eyebrow, his mouth curling into a smirk. "No shit, Rapture? Military Stronghold, home to the Junior Officer's University? You a brass-kid, Bradley?"
"Yeah, I am. Father is in the army, commanding officer of some regiment or something on Rapture, so he was always close. I actually think he's made it to General by now. Mother was a combat doctor, actually ran with Civil Affairs at some point or another."
"A spook? Heh, that's got to have been interesting."
"Not interesting, so much as boring. She made everything into statistics and shit, was tedious as all hell. Both my parents wanted me to go to JOU or JNOC, become an officer, but I enlisted instead. Sure pissed them off."
"I would expect so. Still, at least we've got you here now, so that's a plus."
Kevin nodded, before turning to Ybarra. "And what about you, Ybarra? Where are you from?"
"Alessia IV, that colony's got a lot of people of Portuguese descent. Small colony, but had a sizeable military presence."
"Nice, nice." Gray responded, standing up with his now empty tray. "Well, I think we've all got to know each other pretty well, 'specially Ybarra here. Breakfast shift ends in about ten mikes, so we've got no time to waste. I've got to split, so I'll see you guys later." He promptly left, leaving his tray by some sort of machine as he went. Gray was quickly followed by the rest of the squad, Cooper, Alves, and Ybarra all leaving of their own accord. Within seconds, Kevin was left alone, with only his muffin as company.
Holding up the muffin, Kevin inspected the breakfast item before mouth turned into a frown. After a moment, he tossed it into a nearby trashcan, before standing up to leave himself. Next work duty is in sixhours, might as well catch some shut eye before then.
Codex
Enforcers
Because of the military-based nature of the entirety of the UER, it is expected that most civil services are attached to the military. The Emergency Services of the UER are no different, and such positions as Police, Firefighters, and Paramedics are parts of different sections of the UER military. The Enforcers are the Army-based section of the UER Police Force, and are usually stationed on different colonies to maintain order among the populace. Heavily armed and armored, the Enforcers are trained to extreme lengths, and are no simple matter to deal with.
ADDENDUM: AUGUST 25th, 2256
As of recently, there have been several proposals to add human officials to the Citadel Security force, better known as C-SEC. Such proposals have stated that C-SEC could be positively supplemented by human officers and agents, and many current Enforcers and Sentinels, the Marine Corps and Navy equivalent of the Enforcers, have been selected as possible candidates for a test run.
76th Marine Special Operations Division. MARSOC. November Group
The 76th is one of the UER Marines Corps' special operations groups, and focuses on tight-knit operations on the frontlines of wars and battles to disrupt and destroy enemy and hostile establishments, communications, convoys, etc. They are heavily trained, and exist as a light and mobile infantry-based force, commonly seen as a sister unit to the Special Assault Division. While the SAD utilizes brute force and demolitions to achieve its goals, MARSOC uses other, more subtle means to infiltrate the enemy and destroy the opposition from within.
SI-97 Cardinal Interceptor
16.9 meters long
The UER and RAF's main, favored interceptor, the Cardinal is used to engage and destroy enemy Starfighters in defense of friendly vessels.
Primary: L13 Basilisk Gauss Chain Cannon
Secondary: M412 M-PMs (2 pods, 4 missiles)
Crew: 1, Pilot
Tier 3AV Shields
L13 Basilisk Gauss Chain Cannon
The L13 is the primary example of a medium-weight Space/Air weapon system. The L13 uses a cyclic chain system, similar yet unlike rotary systems, to fire 20mm shells at insanely high speeds, with moderate accuracy. The system is thus best used against other Starfighters.
Carrier: Support ship, only contained within large fleets or battlegroups.
Vigilance-Class Carrier: 3,250 meters long, 615 meters wide.
Ship of the Line: RNS Vigilance
Specialty: Support—Carrier
Armaments:
Broadsides: 300 LGCs
Missiles: 2 Raven Missile Pods—1 on each side. 40 missiles each.
Point Defense: 400 60mm Gauss Gatling Rifles
Shielding: 45,000 kilotons
1330 Spacecraft:
600 F-41 Kestrel Space/Air Superiority Fighters
250 B-63 Peregrine Bombers
150 F-51 Zeus Armored Strike Fighter
150 SI-97 Cardinal Interceptors
100 UT-441 Condor Multirole Dropships, with variations
50 AM-31 Redcell Rapid-Reaction Gunships
6,000 Marines—Two Regiments
The Special Space/Air Service—SSAS
The Special Space/Air Service is a subsidiary branch of the UER Space/Air Force and is an infantry/mechanized unit, utilizing light infantry and light armor supported by swarms of close-air support to supplement UER Army and Marine elements in major campaigns. They are seen as a highly trained and elite force, small yet skilled, and can often work independently or co-dependently with other UER ground units.
Civil Affairs: Civil Affairs. Zulu Group
The UER Civil Affairs unit may seem like a mild and relatively harmless Special Forces unit at first, but those who mistake them as such will quickly find themselves dead. Civil Affairs deals with all things civil and civilian during wars and battles, and specialize in civil affairs—winning the "hearts and minds" of their enemies' people. Yet, despite this, they also perform intense reconnaissance and intelligence gathering operations, and may even act as espionage units—at the same time as their civil and aid operations. They are adept in the fields of torture, interrogation, manipulation, and propaganda. The Civil Affairs unit is definitely not to be trifled with, as they are equal parts spooks as they are aid workers and military-civilian connections.
Author's Note:
So, that's that. Hopefully you guys enjoyed that chapter, despite the dearth of action. Tell me what you think—I'm really aiming for solid, enjoyable characters before we eventually reach the Shepard we all know and love. The next update should come between one and three weeks, so I'll see you guys then.
Individual Replies:
OMAC001: We'll see them soon enough, no worries…
Guest 1: Thanks for the heads up, that was fixed some time ago.
Guest 2: Not sure if you're the same guest, but nevertheless… I don't consider what I've done to be "buffing the Council." I've simply adjusted them to match better with the UER—if I had left them alone, then the UER would simply steamroll over anyone and everyone besides the Reapers—that doesn't make for a good story, in my opinion.