Alrighty guys, I've decided I need to finish uploading what was done of this story. My friend who was writing it with me lost interest ages ago, and despite knowing what he had planned, there is no way I can write it and do it justice without help and he neglected to write the ending of it. However: I will not remove it. I'm going to be uploading it here, all finished chapters, and if anyone would like to help me complete it my DM's are open. Chapters currently finished will be labeled based on which of us wrote them. If you have suggestions or anything, go ahead and leave feedback. This upload process may take a few days, but I hope y'all like what I have. Once again, this is the first chapter, written by my old co-writer.
Private Connor "Stock" Woodstock checked his rifle again, you could never be too sure with these things. You could check it once over, twice over, even three times, and yet it would still find a way to get jammed in a dire moment. He was part of the third Orokin combat marine regiment, an infantry unit, the lowest of the low, which meant there were plenty of those moments to go around.
He finished checking over his rifle while the rest of his squad filed into the drop ship. He hadn't had much of a choice when it came to joining the marines, after he completed his schooling he wasn't given many options in how to live. He could have gone to the factories where they processed food into paste, he could join the Orokin Empire's military force, or he could become a servant to a high born Orokin family. His choices were limited. It was either choose a job or one would be chosen for you, and refusing to serve at the whim of the Orokin Empire was punishable by immediate death. His family worked in the factories, he knew what that was like, long hours handling the foul-smelling processed food, potentially being poisoned, with the added perk of possibly being maimed by the machinery. That was a no go. As for becoming a servant of a family of the High Born class, that was also a no. Sure it might pay a bit better than working in a factory, but once you were assigned a family they owned you. You worked for them and devoted your life to them. They had complete control over you, they could abuse you in any way the saw fit, and even kill you on a whim without reprimand. So he'd chosen the marines, at least this way he could see the stars for once before he ended up blasted into space by a rebel torpedo.
He checked his rifle again, ejected the magazine, ejected the round in the chamber, opened up the rifle and checked inside to make sure all the moving parts were still inside and still operating as they should. After putting the rifle back together he cycled the bolt a few times to make sure it was well oiled and would cycle a new round when fired, then inserted the magazine and cycled the bolt again to chamber a round. As he was doing this he noticed a commotion just outside the drop ship, it sounded like arguing. Glancing out the rear hatch of the drop ship he saw Corporal Jensen arguing with Sergeant Booth. "I'm not going back out there again, man! I have done three drops already, and every time we hit dirt side we get slaughtered! No way!" the corporal spat, flat refusing to move any closer to the drop ship.
The sergeant never got the chance to respond as a shot rang out and the corporal crumpled to the floor. A new man walked into Stock's field of view baring the insignia of an Executioner on his shoulder. Executioners where the enforcers of the Orokin Empire, their word was law and they backed it up with a lot of muscle and in Stock's opinion, a massive anger problem.
"Disobeying a Direct order from a superior officer is punished by a court marshal and 20 years hard labor with any rights and honors granted to the family revoked," the Executioner declared, holstering his sidearm, "Disobeying a direct order from the Orokin Empire is punishable by death. Does anyone else feel the need to weasel their way out of this jump?"
No one spoke up, all returning to their own business, and those who were still on the flight deck rushed back to performing their duties in order to avoid incurring the Executioner's ire. Seeing that there were no objections the executioner turned and spoke to the sergeant while indicating Private Stock's drop ship. The sergeant nodded and walked back onto the drop ship and spoke to the marines inside.
"We are going to have a special guest with us on this drop," he informed them, "What you see and hear on this drop, should you survive, you will never repeat to anyone outside this ship. This mission has become classified, Top Secret. Before you start asking questions about what it is that classifies it as such, the only thing you need to know is that our great empire has come up with some new weapons, something that may help us turn the tides in these gods forsaken wars."
With that he turned around and nodded to the Executioner and the Executioner then turned and nodded to someone out of Stock's view.
There had always been myths and legends when it came to what exactly happened to the Zariman, a seed ship said to have been sent to colonize planets in the Tau system. Some said that it disappeared for five years and then popped into existence from nowhere, abandoned. Others said it wasn't as abandoned at all and that it had come back filled with monsters that the Orokin Empire was now using to create weapons to be used in these wars, weapons called Tenno.
Stock had never given much thought to the matter, always believing that the entire story was a myth. There was never such ship as the Zariman, and there was nothing ever found on board. It was a bed time story told to children to make them behave. There were no records of there ever having been a Zariman. If it had ever existed it would be impossible to cover up, a ship that size contained thousands if not millions. There would be build records, logs of when it was in port, photos of the ship, photos of those who had traveled on it. There was nothing of the sort. And yet, walking up the gangplank onto their drop ship was exactly that. A myth; a legend. Legends have a way of punching you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you when they are proven to exist. Standing before Stock was a six foot tall slender but blocky… figure which looked vaguely humanoid. He couldn't tell if it was human or not though due to it being completely encased in metallic alloy armor.
The armor was black and gold, common colors in the Orokin Empire and particularly in their military, but that was where all similarities ended. There was a faint glow enveloping the thing's hands and pulsing up the arms to fade away just above the elbows and it carried a rifle slung across its back. At one side it carried a long sword that resembled the ancient blades old earth samurai warriors had carried, and at its other side it carried a pistol.
"Hey, man, nice suit! Where can I get one of those?" he heard one of his fellow marines ask, all sarcasm intended he was sure.
"Stow it marine, you are not to talk to this thing," Sergeant Booth snapped, "It is not human, just a weapon here to aid our fight in the upcoming battle."
With that the drop ship's hatch rose and the airlock sealed itself closed. The machine stood motionless as the drop ship rumbled to life while Stock took to checking his weapon again. It turned its head ever so slightly in Stock's direction as he released the bolt to chamber a round and he decided to leave the safety off. He didn't trust this thing. If it was what he thought it was then it was no good, nothing but a monster with a collar around its neck.
"Stand by for jump!" the pilot's voice sounded over the cabin speakers.
The lights dimmed and then flicked to the red emergency lights. There was a bright flash, then a moment of disorientation and nausea.
"Jump complete, 10 minutes to drop zone."
The lights flickered back on and Stock looked around the cabin noticing some marines doubled over with the heads in between their legs expelling their breakfast. But the thing still stood where it was, arms crossed and motionless.
"Shut up and listen up," Sergeant Booth bellowed, "We're on our final push to taking back our planet from these rebels. They have held prime real-estate for the past ten years and their lease is up! We're going to go down there and kill anything that doesn't run. If it runs, kill it anyway. First squad with me, second squad with Sergeant Woods. Third squad with Lance Corporal Havoc and the Tenno."
With that Sergeant Booth confirmed what Stock had feared: he, a member of third squad, was in the company of a monster…