August 28, 2180
Sergei Trusch sat in the seat, staring at an active, blank terminal in front of him. The logo for Spearhead, the elite division of marines he and his fireteam were a part of was displayed as signal was established. He leaned to the right, looking forward at the four other marines of his team, clad in their black jumpsuits and body armor, with their helmet masks open. He adjusted himself back into his seat as the terminal went from the Spearhead insignia to a picture of Kordova. Trusch realized it was a camera feed from their mother ship, a carrier called “Forever Courageous”, and then a voice entered through his helmet’s internal speakers.
The on-screen voice software quickly labeled it as Fleet Admiral Holley, “Gentlemen, an anonymous tip from a spacer came in. We’re acting on a possible tip, and we don’t know what is going on here, but it’s something of concern and shady. The group operating out of the facility you’re checking is the United Peace Coalition.” The voice stopped for a moment, as if on cue, and the ship lurched forward under sudden acceleration. “You’re going in hot, expect contact but also expect noncombatants. These are scientists or whatever they call themselves, I forget. I’ve allocated a combat walker for support, it might be too much for just civilians, but you can never be too certain, Holley out.”
The screen blacked out and was replaced by a camera feed on the exterior of the craft they were riding in on. Tapping a button on his wrist-mounted display, Sergei felt somewhat claustrophobic as the helmet’s mask came down and sealed itself with an audible hiss, before a green status indicator showed on his arm, signifying the seal. He blinked, and the inside of the display winked to life, showing the IFF tags of the four marines in front of him, the inactive walker, and the three crewmen of the craft they were riding in on. His biological signs monitor was displaying calmly on his PDA as he brought it in front of him again.
A sudden deceleration as the ship hit the atmosphere and switched to air-breathing engines before coming to a gradual stop, hovering in place. Sergei watched as the center of the transport slid away and the walker extended it’s legs before being dropped through the hatch. It quickly closed after the machine had dropped through, and the rear ramp extended and lowered. The marines were out of their acceleration seats and deactivated their magnetic boots before lining up near the front of the bay.
Using the ramp as a slide, Trusch slid down onto the pad from a moderate height, feeling the jolt of pain in his knees and heels despite the armor. Bringing his rifle to bear as he scanned, despite the autonomous death machine standing to his side, the audio enhancers in his suit helped him with this job. Finding nothing to cause him worry, he took comfort in the fact that they had not landed on the TM-100 that rested on the pad, nor had the walker hit it either. A calm, monotonous female voice came across his internal speakers, “Facility map updated. Basic structure, no blueprints, check PDA for information.”
A gruff voice scoffed at the AI, “Yeah, it’ll sure do us a whole lot to find out where they hide the shit if we don’t have a blueprint.” Trusch rolled his eyes, and proceeded to the only thing that remotely resembled an entrance. A different marine beat him to it, Ramirez. “Is this wood,” he inquired, putting his hand on the door and feeling it for any traps. “Man, I haven’t seen wood for a long while, quite a luxury, might have to take it.” The marine tested the knob, a bit unsure on how to open it. “She’s broken, and I don’t see a keypad. What the fuck is wrong with these guys?”
Another marine came up on the side of the knob and hefted his rifle, hand on the pump for the underbarrel shotgun. “Move out of the way, Ramirez, before I blow your freaking hand off.” Ramirez took up position on the opposite side of the door, as well as Trusch, the other two marines in the squad taking up positions behind the stocky marine opposite of Ramirez. Flipping a selector on his rifle, he pulled the trigger on the rifle, having aimed the shotgun at the handle, pumping it and ejecting a shell, he shot again. Ramirez had a grenade in his hand, and tossed the purple-band into the outpost. Almost immediately, a large amount of stun gas filled the room following it. Waiting for four seconds, Trusch tapped Ramirez’s shoulder, and the marine went into the breach…