Chapter II

First Deployment

Ian was awoken as the dropship nearly reached its destination. Anthony bumped him on the shoulder, then motioned toward the gun rack. Ian's was the only one still on. Ian briskly leapt toward the rack, then removed his weapon for a quick inspection. He then placed his helmet on his head and closed the visor. As he did so, his heads up display kicked in, giving him readouts on his power suit's shields, armor integrity, thruster pack charge and his current health. In addition, his helmet displayed a minimap that marked allies and hostiles (although there were zero of the latter) in his immediate area, an ammo and grenade counter, a crosshair when his weapon is raised, and an IFF tagging system that marks his allies and display's their name and rank. His IFF system, colloquially known as a "visor" actually had several modes: Detailed View, which identifies an ally and provides a brief service record, Simple View, which only keeps initials above his allies head, and Combat View, which highlights allies as green and enemies as red. Ian kept his visor in Simple mode, as he did not need details on his teammates for the time being. After a quick check of his diagnostics, Ian was ready. Just in time, as Master Sergeant Tahir stepped into the troop bay, ready to address his team. Ian and the rest of the team stood at attention.

"I hope you're up and at 'em, team because we're closing in on this team's first deployment!" Tahir called out. "Now some of you have been on this team a little bit, so you know the drill. Most of you are due for an education. Now if you ask me, ain't no better teacher than the battlefield, but allow me to set some ground rules." Tahir paused for a moment, glancing at every soldier before him. "I'm sure you all heard the speech that you are among the best, and you'll be serving with an elite team of some of the greatest soldiers in history, taking orders directly from the general. I'm here to tell you that's all a load of horse shit." Tahir paused again, a grim smirk forming on his face. "Well some of it is true. I happen to be the best damn soldier any of you have ever met-that includes you, Malkovich. And I can say for sure Staff ain't no slouch either." Tahir motioned behind him as he said this. Ian just noticed that Staff Sergeant Misawa was standing a few feet behind Sergeant Tahir. The man's total lack of presence stood in stark contrast to Tahir's scenery chewing. "And while I certainly get my orders directly from the general, you get your orders directly from me and him." Tahir pointed at Misawa, who merely nodded.

"If you ask me," Tahir paused again, adding dramatic effect. "If you ask me, command has made yet another mistake in sending you bottom feeders to my team. The Federation likes to tell stories about our glory, well here's the facts: Most of the recruits of this team die within their first deployment. In addition, the vast majority of soldiers who qualify for Platoon 7 wash out as they cannot keep up with the high demand of our missions." Tahir seemed to actually have a look of genuine regret on his face. "Legally, because of the nature of what you are getting into, I am required to offer you a chance to leave now. This mission should be easy, but I guarantee you most aren't. We will face odds that are considered by most to be insurmountable and we are expected to beat them. If this is too much for you, you are allowed to leave. No one will judge you, you will not be penalized, and we can take the steps necessary to integrate you within a more suitable unit. Just say the word."

The other soldiers seemed to shift uncomfortably a bit, but no one made a move to leave or ask to leave. Tahir nodded with the closest thing to satisfaction he could muster before shifting back into hard-ass mode. "Alright then, maggots! Looks like I've got a team that's either real brave or real stupid. We'll find out which. Now, in order to make communication easier, each of you will be assigned a call sign..."

Tahir's speech reminded him of his first day within boot camp. His examination results were both a blessing and a curse in his mind, as he was one of the rare recruits considered qualified enough to go straight for Advanced Training. In the Galactic Federation military, Advance Training is required for all Power Suit Troopers, whom make up the vast majority of the Federation Military. Only the Federation Navy, Air Force, and Police are not required to wear Power Suits. Advanced Training was actually considered slightly easier than basic, as it was assumed that a recruit had already proven themselves through basic, and now only needed to learn the inner workings of the armor they would use. Good thing too: Ian heard plenty of horror stories about Basic and wanted no part of it.

The drill sergeant still had to be a hard-ass of course, because what military training program is complete without one?

"Alrigh', maggots," How original, Ian thought. "I have the profound misfortune of being the man assigned to make sure none of you wastes of oxygen kill yahselves," the drill sergeant spoke with a thick cockney accent. "Person'ly, I'd rather watch ya fold yahselves into a pretzel if yah stupid enough ta do so. Unfortunately, we're no' allowed ta 'ave dat kinda fun anymore. And fer those out there judgin' me ack-sent," The drill sergeant regarded all of the present recruits. "Me name is Armstrong Houston. Look me up. Not only am I a respected Ve'eran, I'm a doctor. Got me P.H.D. in Temporal Physics from Tyrron Interstellar University." Armstrong paused again, then continued, "And I can speak perfectly well if I so choose. I just prefer my natural speaking voice, and the scientist life never appealed to me," Armstrong said, this time with a much more "proper" sounding voice.

"So wha' we'll be doin' 'ere is teachin' you 'ow ta use yer armour…"

And learn his armor he did. The process of learning how to function within a Federation Power Suit goes beyond merely wearing and moving with it. It requires focus and an understanding of one's environment. The training required simulations, physical exams, written exams, live fire exercises, and even semi-invasive surgery: once approved for power armor use, Federation recruits are required to get a neural implant at the base of their skull. This implant provides the soldier with their IFF tag, and creates a unique ID signature that allows them to have sole possession of their weapons and armor. They are also given moderate performance enhancers both for mental and physical acuity. Ian passed through Advanced Training with little trouble, having prepared for this his entire life. On his graduation day, before receiving his first official promotion from recruit to Private, Ian was approached by Sergeant Houston.

"Son, it's been a privilege and honor ta be your trainer," Houston spoke proudly.

"Thank you very much sir. The honor is all mine," Ian responded.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I know who you are. You come from a special breed. Men like me, we ain' cut out ta stand next ta men like you. You've got a bright future ahead of ya kid, I'm just proud ta have been a part of it. Unfortunately I can't let you graduate today."

"WHA-er, I mean, excuse me-sir?" Ian stuttered.

"Relax, its good news. These recruits, they'll be sent out to some random regiment. Some might be specialist, most'll just be riflemen. They'll be good soldiers I'm sure. Die for their people. You?" Houston had been gesturing and looking in no particular direction as he spoke, but now looked directly at Ian. "Well, I'm bein' asked ta inform you that yer performance has been exemplary, and due to that, yer' bein' offered a spot in the Elite Federation Forces Academy. Congrats."

Ian froze up. Never had he considered he'd make EFFA, especially not in his first year. Hadn't Adam already denied his access? This couldn't be true! No, it had to be some kind of joke.

"Sir, I-"

"Yer brother had nothin' to do with the decision. In fact ta the best of my knowledge 'e opposed it. But the higher-ups couldn't ignore your work. Adam Malkovich was overruled. Son," Houston put a hand on Ian's shoulder. "You should take this opportunity."

Ian frowned at his new callsign, prominently displayed on his digital nametag. "…Junior…?" he actually said aloud.

"Don't worry, we all get shit callsigns. I got mine for being nice," Anthony said, semi-assuredly.

"Yeah, but people are gonna forget what RMG stands for. But Junior? It's both condescending and links me to my brother!"

"That could be a good thing. Some people might like you for being Malkovich Jr. Give you special treatment."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be Malkovich Jr. I'm trying to make my own way, outside of Adam's shadow."

"I can see that. I don't know, I think I'd have appreciated having a brother to guide me."

"That's the thing. He doesn't guide me. He just beats me over the head."

"Stop," Anthony said dismissively.

"I'm so serious."

"Look, at any rate, we're landing. Look alive." Ian and most of Platoon Seven sat ready within their troop bay. The only two that did not were Maurice "Egghead" Favreau, and General Adam Malkovich. Ian glanced around. His IFF tags now displayed his team's callsigns. MSG Tahir "Sarge" Aldemir, SSG Keiji "Staff" Misawa, (those weren't really callsigns, just general terms for Sergeants) CPL Anthony "RMG (Remember Me Guy)" Higgs, PFC Terri "TK" Kannapolis, and PV2 Lyle "Buggers" Smithsonian. Each soldier stood at the ready. Sarge called out,

"We land in T-10, troopers!" Each trooper raised their weapon to be safe, and after 10 seconds passed, Sarge called out "The light is green troopers!" As he said this, the troop bay doors opened, allowing the troopers to begin funneling out. Ian was in the very back of everyone else, so he was second to last to jump, followed only by Sarge, who always pulls up the rear.

A Platoon Seven "landing" is typically not the same as most other Federation teams. Because of the fact that they frequently enter the most dangerous environments, Platoon Seven more often than not will actually skydive from a moving dropship rather than land all the way. In this case, they merely chose to jump from 50 feet above ground, using the boosters in the back of their armor to slow their fall. Ian made his jump perfectly, landing in position, weapon raised in case of any unknown threats. Higgs and TK had already taken position ahead of the pack, Higgs to intercept any possibly approaching threat, and TK scanning the area with her Sniper Rifle.

"Point, Scout, we clear?" Sarge called out.

"Clear, sir!" TK and RMG said in unison.

"I see no movement in your immediate area, team," Egghead said through comms.

"Alright team, relax. Alert carry." Sarge ordered. The team complied as ordered and awaited further command. Ian looked up at the now quite far away dropship, satisfied with his first landing. He had more work to do in his first mission, but his training had done him well so far.

Ian collapsed in exhaustion. He could perceive the shouts that Academy Instructors were hurling at him, but he couldn't really hear them. During his first day at the Academy, they'd insisted that only the "top one percent of the one percent that get offered a spot" make it to a position on one of the Federation's elite units. The Galactic Federation Armed Forces are billions strong, yet there are only around a few thousand troops in what are considered "Elite" units. The largest and most inclusive Elite Unit is the Federation Air Force "Flyboys," an Elite Paratrooper Unit famous for their use of "Wingsuits" which in the Galactic Federation are actually capable of full-on, high speed flight. This unit has hard cap of 300 Airmen and women. The next highest would be the Federation Secret Service, whom serve as a security force to the various political figures in the Federation. There are only 200 secret service men and women. Next are the Federation Police Star Trackers, of which there are typically only 100-200 at a time. The next unit is made up of the Galactic Federation's Navy SEALS, of which there are typically only 50-80 at a time, spread throughout the galaxy. The smallest units drop of dramatically, as the Galactic Federation Army Platoon Seven only ever has seven members, and the ever evolving Galactic Federation Marines Federation Force maxes out at four.

Ian knew that it would be a true test of both his character and his ability to secure a spot in any of the Federation's Elite Units, but had no idea that it would be this difficult. At times, Elite training was downright sadistic. His first week was seven days of this schedule:

0400: Wake Up

0410: Uniform Inspection

0420: Mess Hall (which featured the most disgusting Military rations they could find)

0430: Report to Courtyard/Uniform Inspection

0435: Run to training facility (RUN, not jog, to a testing facility TWENTY FIVE MILES away)

0600: Centrifuge Training (They put people in a Goddamn Centrifuge for twenty minutes)

0620: "Rest"

0630: Obstacle Course

0730: Centrifuge Training

0750: "Rest"

0800: Combat Training

1000: Run to Barracks

1200: Mess Hall

1230: Showers

1300: Uniform Inspection (different uniform, this one is for school)

1310: Run to Education Facility

1400: Elite Training Class Begins (Lateness for any reason ears a demerit-three demerits and you're out)

2200: Elite Training Class Ends

2210: Run to Barracks

2300: Lights out

And this was easy compared to the actual training. Elite units were expected to do far more than the average soldier. As such, they could not be hindered by their own armor, which had a built in failsafe in order to keep a soldier from over extending and crippling themselves. The downside is that while the armor protects and gives the wearer increased strength and speed, it does not utilize the armor's systems to their full potential. This is not so for Elite units. Their armor's safeties are removed meaning any false move could seriously harm them. If they jerk their head in a particular direction, their armor could over compensate and twist the helmet 360 degrees. Therefore, in order to use this armor, the wearer has to be in complete control at all times, even under heavy fire or duress.

Therefore, despite the fact that Ian hated it, it was not only justified but entirely necessary that the Federation torture him with waterboarding, followed by a ten mile run with spiked weights on. But he just could not handle any more of the stress and simply collapsed. Ian faced several disadvantages: aside from the fact that the training would be impossible for an Olympian without enhancements, Ian was also young and inexperienced. In addition, whereas most soldiers applying to the Elite forces are actually current soldiers who have fought in wars and are acclimatized to their neural and physical enhancements, Ian's body has not had enough time to fully accept it. As such, whereas running twenty five miles was difficult, but not impossible for most, for Ian it was like trying to swim with cement shoes. His body simply rejected what he was doing. As he laid there, he thought: This is it. This is why Adam said I couldn't do it. Because I can't. I'm a failure. Ian laid on the ground, waiting to get picked up and escorted away, but that would not be the case. One of his fellow trainees, a dark skinned heavy worlder, ran back to pick him up.

"What are you doing…?" Ian asked groggily.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm getting your ass outta here. No soldier left behind," the large man said.

"You're crazy. But thanks… What's your name again?" Ian asked.

"What you don't remembuh me? I'm Anthony," he responded with a smile. "Anthony Higgs."

Adam Malkovich spoke to the team on comms:

"Don't get too comfortable just yet, Seven. We've got confirmed reports of Pirate activity in this sector. Look sharp." Ian examined "this sector." They were actually on a hillside, with mostly farmland around them. There were mountains visible in the distance, and several roads into and out of a nearby forest. The roads winded into and out of the hills, rather than cutting through them. Clearly this location had not been intended for a city. There was plenty of green, and Ian assumed the fresh air would be nice. He was tempted to open his helmet for a breath of fresh air, but that would be both against protocol and generally stupid. "We dropped you a couple meters away from the last reported area of Pirate activity. The report we were given said they "saw" the Pirates but were not attacked by them. You're to speak to the locals and try to get a feel for what we're dealing with here. Also be on the lookout for any survivors. Pirates tend to be thorough, but if they missed our informants here there could be others."

"Copy that, Commander. Alright, team, you heard the man. TK, Staff, I want you each on scout duty. If it isn't a bird or a fly, I want to know exactly what's approaching or leaving us within a hundred meter radius."

"Sir!" they responded in unison.

"Higgs!"

"Sir?" he responded.

"You've got point. If you see a hostile, you shoot first. If you don't wanna shoot, at least let it shoot you before the rest of us."

"It's what I do."

"Buggers, Junior!"

"Sir!"

"You're with me. Move as a unit!"

"Yes sir!" they responded. The location of the locals they were supposed to speak to appeared on their HUD. It was a building only barely visible through the nearby woods. TK and Misawa were already scouting the area, and Higgs entered the woods first. The team as a whole moved cautiously, but quickly. They never encountered any hostiles, but did not lower their guard.

"Team, I'm seeing heat signatures at our objective," Adam said through comms. "I'll do the talking here."

The team approached the objective, which was actually a house built into a hill in a clearing. They very cautiously examined the area, as it was very possible that the heat signatures inside were Space Pirates. Adam landed about 20 meters away from the house, having jumped from the dropship above. Adam held his modified Assault Rifle at the ready as well. TK and Misawa fanned out, making sure there were no hostiles in their immediate area. Higgs took point directly in front of the door to the household.

"Junior! Go knock on the door," Sarge ordered. Ian was inwardly annoyed, but complied as asked. Before he could knock however, a rotund green skinned female alien opened the door. Ian jumped back, everyone tensed up, the Lyle stepped forward and aimed his Rifle at the alien.

"Hands up! On your fucking knees!" he ordered. The woman, seemed frightened, and began speaking in a language that most of the team couldn't understand. There were two smaller aliens behind her, likely her own children.

"Relax, they're not Pirates. They're Tublins," Anthony countered. Lyle relaxed a bit, but never took his rifle off of the Tublin. "My home planet is full of them, I know them well. My Krullish is rusty, but I get the gist of what she's saying." Anthony spoke back to the alien in her language. She seemed elated that someone could speak to her. She seemed to nod in agreement to something Anthony said. Anthony then faced Adam and said, "She'll answer any questions we have, she just would like us to protect her. She's been hiding underground for days." Adam considered what Anthony said, then said,

"Ask her what caused her to stay underground. Tell her to describe anything she saw." Anthony recited Adam's words to the Tublin, and she responded in kind.

"She says the 'beasts' descended on this colony about a week ago. Says they killed and stole whatever they could get their hands on. One of the kids in there is actually her brothers' child. Says his whole family is dead. Her husband went to fight them, hasn't been back in days," Anthony translated.

"Ask her what the beasts looked like." Anthony did as asked.

"She says they looked like… 'fish-men?' Excuse me, 'crab-men.' Some had actual pincers."

"That sounds like Space Pirates… does she know if they're still on the planet?" Anthony translated again. The Tublin shrugged. "I understood that one. Alright, get her back inside. Lyle?"

"Sir?" Lyle acknowledged.

"I want you to stay here and guard this house until we can extract this family. Make sure nothing gets in or out." Adam ordered.

"Yes, Commander!" Lyle saluted. Anthony ordered the Tublin back into her home, then Lyle took up a position outside the entrance.

"Alright, team. We got pretty much everything we're going to get out of her. It looks like the Pirates were here and it's possible they still are. Despite this colony's nature there are actually a few important Federation assets we need to secure. Their locations are supposed to be hidden, but as mentioned, the Pirates are thorough. There are three locations we have to secure, one to the east of this position, another to the west. After that, we'll regroup and fly to the hidden weapons factory on this planet. I'll be splitting us into teams of three. Anthony, Misawa!"

"Sir!" they said in unison.

"You're with me. We'll be investigated a Federation listening center that went dark. Sergeant, I'll leave your team in charge of securing an asset that's supposedly still alive here: A Senator from this planet. I'm uploading the coordinates to you now."

"We'll get him out of here, Commander."

"I expect nothing less. Team, you have your orders. Let's move!"