The Hessian's Story

"Gear up! I wanted you ready to deploy before the alarm went off!" Yates shouted as he stepped through the halls of his barracks.

He wasn't the man in charge, but he held rank on many of the IDF forces he was bunked with. He preferred to sleep among the grunts, he was one of them as far as they were concerned.

"I'm already geared up. What is your excuse?" He asked, walking confidently as he showed off the fact that he was already ready for combat.

He was a muscular man underneath his gear, a little older, with greying brown hair and a thick mustache, but he was still in great shape.

Yates made his way out of the barracks and began his journey to the command building. He wanted to get some information out of the base commander before he was deployed.

The last thing he wanted was to be sent in without any intel because the IIA needed to protect their secrets or were playing some sort of game.

"War room?" He asked a passing soldier as he stepped into the building, "That way." The soldier told him, head low as he continued on his way.

Yates watched him for a moment, there was something off about him. He didn't know what. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and continued on to the war room.

"Commander? A word?" He asked loudly as he approached the room, arms folded over his chest. He turned his head, catching sight of the soldier again watching from nearby. Either he was curious or he knew something about the attack.

"Huh."

Red didn't even bother going down the stairs, he knew the drill. Months of planning was about to pay off. The second his rifle was broken down and cased he dashed to the room three doors over, closing and locking the door behind him. He'd run a good scam here, renting a total of seven different rooms under seven different names, most on separate floors. He reached under the bed and pulled out a small backpack.

The orbital strike would be coming soon, too soon for his liking. It was time to run, and fast.

It wasn't that simple, though. He fished out the contents of the pack as quick as he could. It contained a battery system, common household Aschen stuff modified to work with his suit. It would sustain the stealth field for an hour, as well as jerry-rigged grav-locks for his boots thanks to his partner's ingenuity. The most important part though was a cyro-solution, resting in a syringe that billowed mist.

It's amazing the amount of things The Hessian could whip up with enough time and effort, especially since it all came from mundane parts.

The solution was one of those things, and possible the most important. It would flood Red's suit with an extremely cold solutions that would filter through the usual fluid-intake. It would keep his thermal presence null for an hour, give or take. Once fully ready and geared he activated his stealth field, and opened the window.

It was horrifying at first, but sort of fun in the end. He had to step out on what was basically a leap of faith, hoping the grav-lock would catch, that his foot would be able to hit the window just below his before he fell. It did. A hundred something feet was a long walk, especially straight down, but it wasn't about to stop him. The timer in his HUD told him how long he had to get out and get clear.

Barely enough.

He sprinted his way to the ground, and continued to run. He made sure to give any and all Aschen a wide birth, and kept his silenced handgun ready. It was a short walk to the linchpin of the plan. It was a house, maybe 200m away at most. It was a small unassuming thing, the family on vacation even, but it had a basement. One that Red had spent the last two months fortifying a corner of it with cheap metal scraps, and wood.

He had befriended the family under another disguise, this time as a rebel terrorist. They were sympathetic to the cause, and to the gold.

As he closed in on it he had to hold back the urge to swear. Two IDF soldiers were walking past the door, making far too much noise for his liking. Probably there to check on all residents, first wave of hunters for the terrorist. It wasn't even a tall house, what where these clueless morons doing? It didn't matter. He opened a secure comm channel to his partner, and ducked into an empty alley way.

"Need that delivery, now.", was all he spoke, a hushed, monotone-whisper, before closing the channel. They couldn't afford time, or getting got, or leaving a foot print, not yet. Hopefully the next stage of the plan would make what he was about to do a little less attention-grabbing.

He slipped out of the alley way, still cloaked and cooled, his silenced Glock19 in one hand, a combat knife in the other. He walked towards them slowly, crouched and carefully focusing on each of his breaths so as not to alert them. Normally he'd love to stop and eavesdrop for a few minutes, but there was no time. Still, he could listen a little while he continued to cautiously creep up on them.

"Open up, please. It's the IDF, we need to verify your safety and get you escorted ASAP.", the larger of the two men banged on the door as he barked his orders out.

Shit, that told Red they were reacting faster than he calculated. It became do-or-die time in an instant. He unleashed his assault on both officers simultaneously. A round from his silenced Glock hitting the large soldier just between the helmet and rest of the body armor, aimed directly at the spinal cord, and his knife entering into the other man in the same location.

All he had to do was slip inside, dragging the bodies with him, and he'd be free and fine.

It would take seconds at most, and he'd be in the laughable "bunker" he made, hopefully combined with his armor shielding him enough for the blast he didn't instantly die. Hopefully.

No other IDF's were near at the moment, his thermal scan confirmed it. He set to work, hoping an Aschen soldier didn't show up out of the blue.

Unfortunately for Red, someone saw the soldiers go down.

No one would know who called it in, was it a nosey neighbor? Someone in a car? Someone saw the IDF Men go down, and they called it in. Either way things never went according to plan, especially among a population living in constant fear of rebellion and terrorism.

The Base Commander returned the salute from the soldier before he stepped aside. "What is it? Shouldn't you be at your post? We have a level one lock-down and the base is under attack." The Commander said flatly. "We'll discuss whatever concerns you have once the situation has resolved, now return to your post or enter yourself into correction." The Commander said, annoyed that this man was taking much valuable time from dealing with the situation.

There was a chirp and the Tactical officer picked up, a brief exchange and then he hung up.

"Sir." He said, pulling the commander away. "There's been another shooting, I've got the address marked down on the map. CPF is sending in Crisis Response, and I've got tac teams converging on the residence, they'll be on site in thirty microcentons."

Thirty seconds, and the screech of a Condor VTOL seemed to sound overhead, perhaps it was just another patrol, but the engines of the Condor VTOL were being used to drown out the sounds of CPF SWAT Personnel, and heavily armed IDF Marines disembarking from the back, they took up positions around the small house, securing the windows, the doors, and everything else.

Their thermal signatures were masked by strange anomalies, one moment they were there and another moment they weren't, their personal shields interfering with thermal imaging, like a pane of glass the transparent energy field was 'Opaque' to thermal imaging, making the gathering personnel difficult to see.

Two individuals clad in a T-65 Combat skin moved to the front of the door, tapping their helmets to ensure their visors were sealed, took up positions.

All of the SWAT commanders nodded, and sealed their own visors before popping canisters through the windows of the small house, the blood spatters of the killed soldiers marked the house as the one where Red was hiding.

Shattered glass signalled their arrival, canisters moving along the floor billowing a thick red smoke, the smoke was a substance the Aschen called 'Spice gas', a Capsaicin based irritant that caused a severe burning sensation in the eyes and respiratory tract, as well as clinging to clothing and causing a burning sensation on exposed skin.

The two Combat skin clad individuals engaged their personal cloak, a phase-shift device that placed them slightly out of phase, and imperceptible to even the most advanced of scanners.

The two men checked their Type 03 Disruptor PDWs, and fanned out in two directions.

"Confirmed IDF Bodies." One of them said, gesturing to the pile of dead soldiers in the corner.

"Check basement." The lead said. "I'll check kitchen and living quarters."

Moving up to the door of the basement, the Combat skin clad Spec ops wrapped his hands around the door, shields were calibrated and the suit itself was nearly impervious to most conventional small arms. The enhanced strength caused the doorknob to snap, and the door was slowly opened.

He adjusted his vision to a Infrared and Xray, which enhanced his own HUD and cut through the darkness of the basement.

It was only a matter of time before the jaws of Aschen oppression snapped shut on Red.

"I know, but-..." Yates was cut off when the Commander was pulled away. He shook his head in frustration, stepping inside the war room. He opened his mouth to speak, but he opted not to. He could get in trouble if he pushed the issue. Now wasn't the time for that.

Instead Yates dug into one of the pouches on his gear, slipping out a puck shaped device. He sighed, pressing it against a wall as he made his way back out of the room.

There was a light on the top of it blinking green. It was subtle and probably wouldn't be noticed immediately with all the clutter and the base searching for the attackers.

He immediately caught sight of the soldier again in the hallway. What the hell was he doing? Yates was going to find out one way or the other why he was being shadowed.

"Hey!" Yates shouted, moving to confront the soldier. "Are you following me?" He asked, as he grew closer. The soldier didn't answer, "I'm asking you a question. Answer it." He demanded, but it didn't matter if the soldier was going to answer or not.

The green light on the device began blinking rapidly until it suddenly turned red. The blinking stopped with the red light.

And then suddenly it exploded outward with intense heat, flames igniting as the explosion expanded into the room. But, it wasn't your typical explosion. No, this one stopped. It paused, frozen in time for the longest of seconds.

Still it burned anyone caught in it.

And then it began to violently implode, bringing people, objects and anything else caught in it's blast together to create charred balls of viscera.

The same happened in Yates' barracks. And another. A motorpool. Vehicles leaving the base. They were dealing with more than a sniper. This was an real attack and they should have seen it coming.

---

The Aschen's arrogance was so predictable you could actually factor it into a plan, and that's exactly what Red did. His entry into the building had been far too loud and flashy for his tastes, and being a man who always believed in six or seven backup plans, he'd set to work quick.

The moment he'd begun to drag the Aschen soldier's corpses is, he started plan H. Or some letter. He'd dipped into his pack for one of the last ingredients of his mission, six explosive charges, the same kind The Hessian was using. Mostly. They were powerful thermal-charges, with a secondary implosion, designed for devastation. Precision devastation. Whichever direction they were point was where the bulk of the explosion went, making them a tactical asset.

The first was placed onto of the first dead Aschen's chest, face up, with his partner's corpse placed overtop his to cover it. This charge was super-charged, the explosion would level most of the upper floor, the implosion destroying the rest. It had a 50m killzone on both detentions, maim and wound zones extended far out. There was another one, set with the same specs, on the back of the front door. This one faced forward, making the entire first floor kill-maim.

The other two were lesser, one thrown into the back room of the house, the other placed in the main room, just above the basement. These were more simple explosive charges, heavy enough to take out solid steel if need be, but not the end-all of a thermite. The Killzones for that were basically right on the other side of their respective walls. Nothing too serious.

Which was fine with Red, because that wasn't their job, escape was.

He got lucky, or maybe he was just good at his job. He was prepared for something to go wrong, and when he heard the VTOL, he was damn happy. They wouldn't need to send a VTOL patrol if they had men on the streets. They wouldn't risk it's value, or the lives of Aschen soldiers if they were about to orbital strike. Someone saw him, thank god. He'd laid in his little bunker in the basement, each hand gripping a detonator.

He heard the glass shatter, the hiss of the Spice Grenades, then the door being breached, and sealed off the audio from his helmet, effectively deaf. He took a deep breath, and counted to fifteen.

Welcome to plan Hellfire.

The first to go off were the two charges by the door, the over-loaded explosive turning both of the dead Aschen into a fine red mist, as the air all around ignited before a deafening crack. The one behind the door went off next. He pressed the other detonator after a two second count of the first, the modified C4 blew out with a bang a hair of a second before the secondary implosions went out. They would drag away all the rubble from the C4, which would leave a hole in the basements ceiling, and the walls between the living room and the street..Well. Gone.

He was going to walk right out, even if by some miracle all the IDF survived, he was fully hidden.

That's the best part of the explosives in Red's opinion. They didn't make a sound, and while the two implosion's blinked faintly, both were hidden. None of them were obvious right away. Perhaps an incredibly smart or lucky soldier caught the charges, or a charge. Maybe they even evacuated the house in time, though Red doubted it. It didn't matter. The two charges upfront provided a kill zone outside the front door for a solid 35m, maim beyond.

This was a blow that if the Aschen were clever, they would whether, but not walk away from unscathed.

Red climbed out of his joke of a "bunker", and engaged his grav-locks. He walked straight up the wall, through the hole of the ceiling, and into the war-torn street. Hopefully in the chaos he'd slip around everyone easily. If anybody was left.

The men in the Combat skins moved into the house, but both of their HUDs picked up the immediate buildup of energy that preceded an explosion. The charges by the door went off, the concussive wave and thermal shock moved outwards and washed over the energy shields of each Combat skin clad soldier.

Brilliant white light bathed their suits, and in an instant they were gone.

AI Assisted neural synaptic links configured with tight-net GPS Feedback from orbital assets allowed a precision short range teleportation facilitated by the blink packs in each of their suits.

Red's activation of the charges also gave his location, the signal from his detonators was highlighted as a brilliant green on the HUDs of the two Crisis Response.

What was next came the fine-tunining AI Assisted Visor system that picked up on the very biochemical energy potential in Red's body, overlaying it on a visual HUD and highlighting it along with filtering out the blinding flash of the explosives.

Both Combat skin clad soldiers blinked to opposite ends of the war torn streets; phase-shift camouflage activated while the men who surrounded the house quickly rolled back, diving for cover behind a small earth-reinforced concrete cinder block retaining wall.

Some didn't make it, as shrapnel caught them in their limbs, but they were pulled into cover by their comrades, tucked away behind a meter of solid retaining wall for the implosion charges they waited it out.

"Datalink confirms an implosive type device, not unlike those that went off back at the base a few moments ago." The Crisis response officer said into the comm link. "Whoever we're dealing with here is connected, definitely not your average rebel, professional." They said. Watching as the house finally came down in a plume of smoke, flame, and dust. The lead Crisis Response made a face, they weren't confident that the Combat skins would be able to withstand whatever maelstrom was going on inside.

The VTOL Continued to hover above the house as well, providing overwatch and datalink coordination with the Combat Skin's systems, amplifying it's own sensor systems.

The figure watched from cloak as the green shimmering highlight moved up the wall of the basement, a brief datalink signal went out, ringing in the comms of the CPF officers that survived the explosion. They were instructed to play dead.

The One Crisis Response officer, or rather Erin Solis watched the shimmering green highlight on her HUD, even as the shouts of panicked Aschen authorities filtered into her comms she shut them out.

Her eyes narrowed, watching as Red emerged to the Chaos outside, the bodies of CPF Officers strewn about from the explosions. Her eyes briefly darted to the shield meter - they were fully charged.

She looked up and around, briefly enhancing her Visor systems, and she licked her lips, bringing much needed moisture to dry, parched flesh.

Everything to her began to slow down, neural commands moved through the suit, and the Chrono Dilation systems activated, creating a localized time dilation field, where time was accelerated, everything to Erin was moving slow, while to the outside observer, if they could observe her despite the cloak, she would seem to be moving obscenely fast.

Erin had a clear advantage, but she didn't know if this individual had cover, additional shooters, more explosives. She tried to weigh the situation as the energy meter for the Chrono Dilation device slowly drained.

The Chrono Dilation was disengaged, and she looked up briefly to the VTOL. "I'm feeding you my tracking data, try not to kill him." She transmitted via Neural Net.

The sniper aboard the Condor VTOL nodded slightly, resting his Type 40 Beam rifle on a small resting point on the VTOL, with Erin's targeting data, the scope highlighted Red's form as he moved from the rubble.

"He's got some damn good cloak." The Sniper mumbled to himself, zooming in on the scope and acquiring the target, Erin and the VTOL's sensors worked in tandem and enhanced the bioelectrical energy allowing Red's entire nervous system to be highlighted, his beating heart, the simple contraction of his leg muscles as he walked.

With a twitch of a finger, the Beam rifle fired, aimed precisely at a point between the heart and the right lung, precise enough to drop him instantly, but not kill him unless he was left to die.

The searing pink beam of light burst fourth, aimed immediately where the scope was zeroed in. Unless there was some kind of miracle, the beam of energy would strike true, exactly where it had been placed.

The beam would likely enter through the back Ceramite plate, likely cutting through it with ease, liquefying the Ceramite and causing severe burns, the beam would move through the chest cavity, barely grazing the heart and right lung, before exiting the front chest cavity, liquefying the Ceramite there and leaving a white hot indentation in the pavement. The wound, if inflicted was likely excruciatingly painful, the rapid conversion of bodily fluids to steam causing further damage, if unsuccessful though, Erin was poised to move in with her own attack, her blink packs primed and ready to jump.

---

Inside the base, the Commander and the war room didn't stand a chance as Yates engaged the explosives, equipment and personnel alike were eviscerated as the building, the motor pool, and the other charges went up, adding to the confusion.

In an instant command was transferred, and the skies above the city began to darken, as the silhouette of a Reverence II began to loom overhead.

As it moved into position, her Commander noted an incoming vessel, the IFF Showed it was a Civilian trade vessel, however the strictures of the lockdown was clear.

The Reverence II's Commander looked up, and then turned to his Executive officer as alarms began to blare.

"Looks like we have an unidentified vessel; destroy it." He said, turning back to the console.

Dorsal flak batteries, rotary plasma cannons, and Turbodisruptor batteries spun to life, swiveling to acquire their targets they engaged, a steady stream of ordinance moving up towards the transport, a flak field so thick, it would likely be consumed.

Explosions erupted around the transport, while plasma bolts seared upwards towards it, sending up a maelstrom of anti-orbital fire from the massive Planetary Assault Carrier below.

The blast of the plasma cannon beams and the other energy weapons hit, splitting the cargo vessel into two. The flames inside the vessel killed the inhabitants. Richter, his co-pilot, and the engineer. All were roasted alive by the flames of the vessel. The engineer's burnt body escaped the new hole in the ship as it split apart.

The rear half of the vessel partly disintegrated, having taken the brunt of the damage, however small pieces of the vessel around the size of washing machines rained down from the sky. The front of the vessel remained in one piece after the vehicle was not only disabled, but broken. It careened towards one of the Aschen buildings: if it was able to make contact, it'd only take out half of the building (which is less damage than it'd deal as a full ship), however any damage it could deal could potentially be catastrophic for those around.

All that was left was for gravity to take its toll.

"Here!" Yates shouted, pinning the down soldier that was following him. "He's a traitor!" He screamed for any and all responding to hear. There was a decent amount of debris falling around him, the bomb causing damage to the building's structural integrity.

Maybe no one was coming, maybe the other explosions had made the IDF more cautious. Yates was distracted by his thoughts, long enough for the other soldier to break free and throw a hard punch at his face.

The two wrestled each other, both reaching for Yates' sidearm. And then three shots rang out, echoing through the building.

"He's there! I was following him!" The soldier shouted as he ran out of the building looking for anyone that was helpful, he covered his right eye with one hand as blood dripped from beneath his palm.

The soldier didn't waste time heading towards a truck loading up the dead, "I can help." He said, slipping an eyepatch from his pocket and carefully putting it on over his eye. "You should get medical attention." A soldier told him, "I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle."

"Make yourself useful, pack these in, I've got more."

The soldier nodded, doing as he was told. At least at first. It didn't take long for him to climb in with the bodies, hiding himself beneath any piece of dead flesh and charred bone he could find until he was gone.

It took a long time, but eventually the truck was moving and was leaving the base. That meant he wasn't seen, that was good. The only con was the fact that he couldn't see the outside world. He didn't want to get out and end up in the middle of a platoon in the city.

He had a better idea. A dumb idea, but better. The soldier carefully removed himself from the dead, glancing out to see the city passing him by. He drew the gun he had used to kill 'Yates', creeping up behind the truck's driver to fire a shot right into his neck.

The truck spiraled out control, eventually coming to crash into a few cars on the street. This was perfect.

The soldier was quick to take advantage, feigning a more serious injury and jumping out of the truck. "Get help!" He called out, opting to make his way into one of the buildings. An apartment complex, a soldier looking for help after a crash wasn't very suspicious.

Not yet, at least. It was time for the soldier to disappear.

He climbed the staircase up, waiting until he was about three stories up to stop. He headed into the apartment's third floor hallway, scanning the rooms as he passed them by. And then suddenly he threw his shoulder into a door, throwing it off it's hinges completely.

Inside were a couple, a man and a woman. "I'm sorry." He said to them, drawing a knife from his other pocket. It was slightly bloodied, it had probably cut him in the crash.

He descended on the couple quickly, barely unable to muffle the sounds they made.

A single flash of white hot pain was all Red felt. The beam split through his armor, his body, melting and boiling everything. A hair of a second after the impact he looked down, catching the tail end of the pink energy as it exited his chest. He didn't even have time to process it, really. The massive spike in internal temperature had nearly cooked his heart, and his body willing shut down. Truth be told it was amazing he stayed conscious long enough to feel the pain, let alone see the bolt.

He might be a human, but he wasn't The Red Switch for nothing.

His limp body toppled forward, colliding with the ground with a solid thud. How could he have known? They tried to plan for everything, but you can only factor so many things, so quickly. The IDF deployed full military hardware that was seemingly invincible within minutes. They prioritized one lone shooter over a base blowing up. Somehow, despite the entire laws of physics, they survived implosion detonations like it was nothing.

How could he have known?

He drifted off in to a sort of dream as his body lay dying. He was alone in a room, the lights were off, and everything felt wrong. He tried to move, but it felt like thick syrup kept him pinned, he tried to shout, but liquid filled his lungs. He was drowning, and started to feel like he was falling. It seemed like it went on forever, but eventually he felt his body impacting with something solid. Something metal. He could feel the heat in his body again, the pain from the blast. He looked up, scanning the darkness for something, anything.

What he saw startled him. A face, distant, and brightly illuminated. A face he knew better than any. Lochlyn's.

It spoke softly, almost caringly. It was hard to make out at first, but eventually Red pieced the words together.

"You know what to do."

With that everything went black, his consciousness fading too far to even dream anymore; because in reality as he lay there on Molecay, his heart stopped. Assuming the Aschen medics could patch him up, and wake him, they'd be in for one hell of a rough ride. They had no way of knowing it, not even from the scars he bared, but he'd been through worse than anything they could inflict on him. They'd get nothing, and all he had to do as wait for The Hessian.

Erin watched in silence as the sniper in the VTOL Took his shot, the searing white hot beam of particle beam energy coursed across the gap between the sniper and Red.

There was a slight crack, with the rapid expansion of air from the thermal energy of the beam as it superheated the air immediately around it.

Erin's face remained stone cold as Red fell forward, hitting the pavement with an audible thunk, it was at that moment she sent a mental command to her suit. It started with a hiss, and the visor split up into three sections, two retracting into either side of the helmet, and the third retracting into the top to expose her pale face, framed by wispy strands of dark hair.

Her eyes moved over to what was left of the house, blood and viscera covered the debris strewn about the foundation. Though the men tried for cover behind earthen retaining walls, the nature of the implosion meant there was no escape. The bodies were mangled and torn asunder.

Erin looked up, several armored SWAT vans were coming down the street, but her objective for now was accomplished. She managed to neutralize one of the insurgents.

Looking up to the VTOL, it was slowly beginning it's descent, Erin chimed back into the Reverence II that was now looming above the skyline.

"This is CPF Crisis Response, I've apprehended one of the insurgents." She said aloud as she slowly walked across the pavement towards where Red was laying.

"Hold back let me clear him of explosives." She said into the comm link as the VTOL slowly began to land, and she slowly started to walk towards where Red was down. Erin's footsteps were slow and methodical as she approached, the visor snapped shut, and the helmet of her combat skin pressurized.

Shields flared slightly, and a mental command signaled her Blink packs, which initiated their charging sequences.

Her mind considered many of the possibilities, who was this man?Was he a rebel insurgent? He seemed to plan for nearly everything the Empire threw at him, had the shooting of those IDF men not been reported, it was very likely whoever this man was would have never been found.

Erin slowly closed her fists, and then knelt on one knee beside Red, She let her hands run across him, checking for hidden weapons and explosives, while keeping her visor tuned with his life signs.

Tactile sensors on her suit's gloves fed sensory information directly back to her brain, and she moved to disarm him, any weapons, ammunition, and extra explosives were likely pulled from his body, and should he not resist, or the explosives not detonate, they would all be set aside out of reach.

Erin then moved to carefully attempt to roll him onto his back, attempting to undo the straps on the armored chestplate and remove it, if successful, it would be tossed back with the rest of his equipment, which would be confiscated and studied.

This would enable the medics to get access to his wound, if everything was deemed safe, Erin would hold up her hand, and one thumbs up.

She opted to stay close by however, as a trio of trauma medics moved from the back of the Condor VTOL and began to rush towards Red with medical supplies in hand, while Erin was carefully watching his vital signs.

Moving quickly, the Medics moved to inject a biofoam like substance into the chest cavity, this nanotechnology infused material would begin working quickly to repair and stabilize the tissues that were damaged.

The medics would also attempt to move him onto a stretcher, while hooking up IVs, which contained a nanite compound and a mild sedative, this nanite compound was designed to assist the body's natural healing processes.

If successful, the medics would load Red onto the stretcher, pick him up, strapping his arms and legs to the stretcher, before hauling him into the back of the VTOL. With the arrival of more reinforcements, Erin turned and ordered the gear be loaded into a crate, where it could be taken into one of the armored trucks, and shipped to wherever the IIA Deemed necessary.

Once everything was secure, and Erin was aboard the VTOL, it lifted off, Red would likely be stabilized for now, and treated further once in IIA Custody.

---

However the Molecay authorities were aware there was now more than one insurgent, with the bombings at the IDF Garrison facility, and the bombings in a nearby neighborhood, the jaws would eventually snap shut on the Hessian as well.

The wrecked truck didn't go long until it was reported to the Central Protection Force and Local Police, and while the Hessian was holed up in the apartment complex, several armored SWAT APCs, Local police cars, and MPs from the IDF garrison were en-route.

Every anomaly was checked, and a wrecked morgue truck was no exception.

They surrounded and locked down the neighborhood, as per procedure when a lockdown was initiated.

While everything was going down, someone, somewhere was going over the surveillance footage from the base immediately prior to the detonation of the implosive devices.

Inside an office aboard the Reverence II looming over the city, a set of eyes was quietly going over the surveillance footage from the base. Several different camera angles, plus the visuals from the tactical AI feed were being analyzed.

While the Hessian was hiding in the apartment complex, the IIA were getting involved, silently watching, going over, and analyzing the surveillance footage.

---

More first responders were dispatched to the site of the crash caused by the 6th order vessel, entire city blocks were demolished by the remnants of the starship, as the Reverence II was unable to destroy the entire vessel.

Smoke and flame plumed up from the crash site, sirens echoed through the cityscape.

Molecay City was slowly turning into a war zone.

The Hessian glanced out of a window into the city, that ship crashing down complicated things. But, it also meant that the IDF and CPF were going to spread much more thin than if they were just dealing with him and Red. That made things easier, yet at the sane time harder.

He had changed out of the soldier garb, instead putting on a suit. It was mostly clean, only the blood from where'd grabbed it was present.

The Hessian made his way out of the room, glancing back at the couple he had killed. It was a gruesome scene, but he'd staged it took look like they had fought each other. Rebels trying to tie up loose ends, or maybe they had discovered the other wasn't who they said they were.

As long as the CPF felt they had closed the case, or at least part or it, worked for him. Leaving the uniform in a burning trashcan probably helped with that.

He headed back to the staircase. One floor up, the apartment right above the other room. He picked the lock and was quick to call down to the lobby and report the commotion.

No jaws were snapping down on him any time soon. The Hessian covered his trail like the consummate professional he was. And soon enough he would be off-planet.

Pain was the first thing Red noticed. A dull, but throbbing ache inside his chest, it was like an extreme bruise, but worse. The smell of singed flesh was stuck in his nose, his sense of time was missing. He reached a gloved hand up to his left breast, nanoweave material allowing him to feel the armor as if it was his bare hand tracing along it. He didn't know what he was looking for, but when his fingers trailed over two jagged lines, he pieced it together.

Disruptor shots. Two of them by the feel of it.

Instantly his mind began wracking through his memories, searching for any relevant data. He jumped to the last thing he remembered, walking out of the house cloaked, and then pain. Definitely a shot from an Aschen weapon, but one that should've killed him. His fingers traced along the rough ridges were the armor had been split apart, and then melted together, his mind swimming. That explained one of the gashes, but where did the other shot come from?

He was coming up blank, and it was letting panic take hold.

That was when his training kicked in, eyes instantly snapping open, but instead of seeing his environment, he only saw black. His helmet was off for some reason, totally shut down. He moved a little, the HUD starting back up thanks to his consciousness. "Strange..", he thought as boot sequences flashed in front of his eyes. "Being unconscious like that might kick in sleep mode, but no-" his thoughts stopped dead as the Clock feature loaded in.

Five hours. Somehow there was five hours between his last memory, and now. A complete black gap.

He shot up with a groan as his visor started giving him multi-spectrum feed. Quick glances showed he was in house, much like the one he demolished. It was pitch dark, and quick sweeps revealed he was alone. "None of this makes sense..", his voice cracked, and lips splintered, he was completely dehydrated. His suits life support functions must've been knocked out, but the only way that could happen was if...

He instinctively reached to his hip for his sidearm, but the holster was empty. His eyes darted around frantically for any kind of weapon he could find, but it was a waste of time. Nothing but furniture. A shiv at best. This was bad, as bad as bad could be. He'd been shot somehow, twice, and taken out of his suit. Somebody had patched him up, too. It painted a pretty quick, and pretty clear picture.

He'd been captured. He just didn't know how, or why exactly, or what they did to him.

None of that mattered this second, though. He pushed himself off the couch he'd been laying on, noticing there wasn't a spec of blood on it. He'd been patched up before he hit, probably dumped here long after the fact. Part of him wanted to reach out to his partner, but he was smarter than that. You don't release a dangerous captive for no reason. He had to assume they were watching, listening, waiting.

He just couldn't make it obvious he was aware of it.

He opened up a comm channel quickly, one that was "secure" on the outside, but he new every Aschen military scanner would pick it up in a few minutes.

"This is Switch Five, I repeat, this is Switch Five. Topside, and Greenlight, requesting all op parties respond." No doubt The Hessian would pick this message up, and being the genius he was he'd decode it in seconds. Right now he was still telling "them" he was alive, and trying to instill the notion that there was a lot of people working with him. "Be advised, Gorillas in Wing City.", hostiles would be on him shortly. "Need immediate evac visa-vi Dangerclose.", stay the hell away. "When can I expect the cavalry?", dear god Hessian, do not respond yourself. "I repeat, Dangerclose evac, mission is still a go.", MAYDAY.

The door to where Tim was being kept slowly creaked open, though he was right in the fact he wasn't where he remembered he was before he was shot, he also wasn't inside anything that resembled a cell.

The bed had just been changed, fresh linens. The interior of the room had a warm almost inviting feel, family portraits on the walls, the smell of freshly cooked food wafting through the interior. Soft candlelight bathed the interior of the room in a soft yellow glow. The power was still out, and it was nightfall.

The blistering white-blue light of a nearby searchlight briefly shone through the window, but as quickly as it came; it was gone.

The door opened completely to reveal an older man in a tattered dark, almost olive green uniform trimmed in a dark brown, a wheel cap adorned atop his head. The man was in uniform, but it was not the uniform of the Imperial Aschen Navy.

Clasped in his right hand was a plate, a grilled roast sandwich and a bottle of water sat upon it, the smell wafting through the inside of the room as the man stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him.

"Relax." The man said calmly. "You're safe here." He said calmly, peering out the window. "They've swept and cleared this house, they will not return but you need to stay put." The strange man said, setting the food on the nightstand.

"You gave them a hell of a show, though." He said, standing back up. "Rest up, take your time, regain your strength. The Empire won't find you here."

As the connection was made, and the handshakes authenticated across the vast subspace network the Aschen called the 'Datalink' the blue, feminine visage of the AI hologram EVE flickered into view. Along with her face, a three-dimensional holographic projection of the Molecay system flickered into view across a large round table that was situated in the center of the Indefatigable's CIC.

"Ad Victoriam, Commander Ruben, and welcome back." EVE reported, her soft voice resonating through the speakers integrated into the console.

"Receiving new orders!" The AI Added. "Your ship has been assigned to Classis II, Molecay Fleet, under the command of Admiral Clegg, Flagship designation: Imperious Class Command Carrier, Keeper of Abassid. Location: Epsilon Eridani, Provincia Yellowstone."

Pausing a moment, the three-dimensional holographic projection zoomed out, panning to a view of the galaxy, Aschen space highlighted in green, and the region of Aschen space they were to report, highlighted in blue, with FTL Coordinates displayed.

"Commander, During your shore leave, several key systems have been refitted, and upgraded, as well as a new version of the Command Interface, would you like to test the calibrations prior to departure?" The AI added.

"Test the calibrations EVE." Marcus replied.

The AI Nodded in affirmation, and the field began to light up with both green icons, yellow icons, and red icons in the three-dimensional battlespace.

"Friendly vessels are highlighted in green, unidentified vessels are highlighted in yellow, confirmed enemy vessels are highlighted in red." The AI explained. "You can maneuver this ship, and give directions to allied commanders through the interface by double tapping the respective icons, you can also issue attack commands by tapping allied icons, and dragging them to the enemy warships, move commands can also be issued in this manner."

The center icon expanded, and represented a full three-dimensional view of the Indefatigable, along with shield strength, operational weapons turrets, and relative deck integrity. All highlighted in various shades of green, or blue.

"When all ships are linked through this interface, commands can be issued in a streamlined fashion from the command ships. All systems have been calibrated, Spin-sync drivers report green, coordinates have been computed, locked in, and the FTL is spooling now." The AI reported.

"Status reports arriving. Reactors, online. Sensors, Online. Shields, online. Weapons, online. All systems report nominal."

EVE offered a soft smile.

"We may depart on your command, and remember, you may trust me implicitly. Always."

Something about the way EVE always said she could be trusted implicitly had always rubbed Marcus the wrong way. Nevertheless she was a major asset to the Aschen Imperial Navy and Marcus planned to make use of the streamlined interface when the time came for split second decisions. However, now was not one of those times.

"Engage the FTL, Captain. Take us to Epsilon Eridani, Yellowstone. Manually."

"Aye, Commander." Captain Amorra replied. "Proceeding to Yellowstone."

The navigation officer worked their console with a few short strokes and then the Indefatigable lurched to life and was gone.