Xander Addler's Story

Alarms blared urgently, piercing through the ambient hum of the operations section. Their shrill cries echoed the unwelcome intrusion into the meticulously designed sanctity of Metatron's docking bay. The station's main screen flickered to life, revealing a disconcerting array of minor system alerts, testimony to an unexpected breach that had rattled the walls.

Reacting with practiced precision, the operations staff sprang into action. Lucius, his leisurely moment disrupted, swiftly abandoned his cup of coffee and strode towards the control screens. His characteristic smile faded, replaced by a more somber and commanding demeanor.

"Report," he demanded, his voice cutting through the urgency in the room.

A young operator, donning a visor took a moment to relay the preliminary findings. "I'm not detecting anything anomalous," he reported, his gaze fixed on the data unfolding before him. "At least, not from the initial scans. It appears there's some sort of vessel currently occupying the docking bay. Kind of a junker."

The gravity of the situation settled over the operations section as the reality of the unexpected visitor began to sink in. Lucius surveyed the control screens, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of this intrusion. Lucius's discerning gaze narrowed as he studied the readouts on the control screens. The transport was devoid of the sleek efficiency one might associate with a well-equipped modern warship.

A flicker of curiosity mingled with concern crossed Lucius's face as he contemplated the scene unfolding before him. "Refuge, you think?" he mused aloud, more to himself than to the operators around him. The possibility of the vessel's occupants seeking sanctuary within the protective confines of Metatron seemed a possibility.

The young operator, still engrossed in his scans, chimed in with a tentative response. "It's hard to say, sir."

Lucius pondered the implications, his mind calculating the potential risks. The unexpected nature of the encounter presented a dilemma: Was this vessel a harbinger of problems to come, or were its occupants merely battered travelers desperate for help?

"I don't like this. I want the docking area cleared of staff and I want an entourage of armed guards to assess the situation," he said, rubbing his chin. Deep 17 wasn't a military group, but that didn't mean they lacked the capacity to respond to threats, be they from monsters, or man. "Bashemath, could you send your nearest proxy?"

---

elsewhere in the docking bay, some of the maintenance staff there had cleared out of the way, giving the vessel a wide berth as they awaited security staff to handle the situation. The docking area began its sealing process as shielding came up to prevent any risk of decompression.

"Attention, all staff clear from docking, this is not a test," Lucius's voice could be heard over the sound system, before attempting to hail the transport directly. "Attention, if you can, state your situation and business here. Are you are in need of assistance?"

"Sir! We have weapon discharge in docking, there's been multiple casualties, more injured!" The operator's report echoed through the control room, panic palpable in his voice. Lucius abruptly flung his coffee at the monitor, letting out an audibly tortured exhalation. This was a cruel joke, unexpected, beyond the calculated risks he had considered. Why would fellow men attack them? What madness fueled this conflict against a cause that was inherently good? Had their intentions not been clearly established? Was this the result of a conspiracy, an insufficiency of transparency? The only true threat they at D17 posed was to... them that lied beyond.

Lucius seized the intercom, his authoritative voice cutting through the chaos. "Crisis Suppression Unit, the situation has changed. You are now authorized to use lethal force. All non-combatants are to move to the upper levels and prepare for containment." His message reverberated across the station, prompting the staff to retreat, seeking refuge behind reinforced bulkheads designed for threats more... inhuman. Against a terrorist attack? The situation took on an eerie strangeness. Leaning in, Lucius gripped the microphone, his frustration evident. "Whoever the hell you are, those people were no threat to you, but... you knew that, didn't you? Of course, you did. In fact, success doesn't hinge on survival, does it?"

In the security hub, armed guards and CSU officers marched out, readying their rifles for combat. They formed a defensive line, a basic ballistic barricade between the escaping staff and the impending danger. Some carried the wounded, a grim contrast to the expectations they had when joining—protecting people yes, but not engaging in combat against their own kind. Among them, a decorated officer covered in cloth armor, code-named ECLIPSE, moved up and knelt behind the barricade adjusting his armor, issuing tactical hand signals and counting down on his fingers. They did not speak, but they understood the meaning behind it. They were clearing the field, they wanted to be sure there was nobody caught in the crossfire.

"So, why? Who ordered this? What ordered this? And what is it worth? Your family? Your friends? I am always ready to see the face of God, I've made my peace, but have you? Are you really ready? Think about that in the next passing moments. We are human beings; surrender is an option, and mercy is still on the table," Lucius continued his plea. As ECLIPSE hit zero, a visible sigh escaped him. The CSU officers readied their weapons and rose, firing as soon as they saw the orange glint of what seemed like armed miners, and rifle fire was the only thing heard throughout the docking area as all other sounds are drowned out.

Company Time - 0835
██/██/██97
████ ██-██
“Chosen of Yarovit”
Mission Status: ACTIVE - COMBAT
Team Status: ALL OK

As soon as they hear the clatter of boots against the floor, the team separates. They move behind cover, mostly consisting of overturned cargo that seemed to be in-transit before the interruption they made. Once the station security opens fire, they brace themselves against their relatively flimsy protection.

Hidden behind some cover to the point they were almost laying down, the two team leads huddle together, waiting for a break in the fire. “Jeez, I can see why they want to kill this guy. Loves the sound of his own voice,” mutters Kicker in response to the PA , the sound of gunfire mostly masking the remark. Shield looks over questioningly at Kicker, who shakes his head at the look. “Nevermind.” “Yeah. Chiles- Kicker, you and Valiant need to pop frags at these guys. Tell him and Eagle to hit anyone that tries to throw ‘em back with the Gauss and LMG fire. OK?”
Kicker nods, pulling a fragmentation grenade from his hip, waving his hand to get the attention of the other two, who were stacked up behind the edge of the opening corridor about seven or eight yards away. He does a quick gesture of ‘throwing’ the grenade with his empty hand, then points to Valiant, wincing as a round whizzes where his hand was a split second prior, and then holds up a fist to his eye to signify sniper.

Valiant nods, tapping Eagle next to him to get his attention before stating a few words that couldn’t be heard over the sound. A few seconds later, the gunner yanks a grenade from his side, tossing it, and is followed up by a quick copycat from Kicker, each of the grenades landing a short distance in front of and behind the line that the CSU had formed.

While there’s a momentary pause in fire in response to the grenades landing, Eagle steps out from behind cover and fires two rounds consecutively, both striking a single guard in the chest and head. It wouldn’t be pretty, by any means. A weighted ball fired from a five-stage coilgun could break through almost any non-powered body armor, so it would be a lot more messy when it was a hardpoint projectile.
Despite only being a few seconds that Eagle stepped out from behind cover, though, a burst still meets him, two rounds striking him in the upper arm and his cheek, to which he turns and falls behind cover again, clutching his hand to his face. Valiant drags him back, so that his legs don’t protrude from their cover, and quickly begins yanking a roll of bandages from his pocket, handing them to Eagle.

Valiant begins blind-firing his PKM from around the corner before fully stepping around and aiming, throwing rounds down the hallway in an attempt to slow down the guards before the grenades exploded, which was maybe two seconds away.

Shield, during this span of maybe 45 seconds to a minute, turns back to Kicker and asks, “Where the hell is Chen?” repeating himself twice to get the attention of his co-leader. Kicker shrugs, before turning slightly to address the captain from his position and says, ”I think I saw him sprint back to the landing area, I don’t know what he’s doing.”
Shield curses slightly, but doesn’t get up to go get the guy. “I guess he knows what he’s doing.”

Their recon operator did, as a matter of fact. He was going to go execute the wounded.

The realization of the grenades hung in the air like a heavy shroud, casting a momentary hold over the CSU. Time seemed to slow as the lethal threat materialized, leaving the CSU with little opportunity for a counterstrike. In the chaotic disarray that followed, the harsh reality struck hard – two CSU officers succumbed to the brutal impact, their bodies marred by gaping head and chest wounds.

Amid the turmoil, an unexpected calm settled over the remaining CSU members. There was no room for panic; instead, a silent concession. The fallen officers lay in a heap. Mourning would have to wait, as a swift-thinking comrade kicked a section of the barricade, diverting one of the grenades, before repositioning the remaining sections of the barricade, there was no need for all the room anymore to guard the dead. Simultaneously, ECLIPSE, undeterred by the chaos, swung his heavy belt with precision, hoping to propel the second grenade to a safer distance.

The grenades erupted in a deafening shockwave, scattering shrapnel in all directions. The CSU, despite their valiant efforts, couldn't escape unscathed. The acrid scent of burnt metal filled the air as shrapnel cut deep into their sides, and one unfortunate soul sustained an arm injury. Even ECLIPSE wasn't spared, his right leg bearing the brunt of the explosion and, despite the armor felt an abrupt numbness that was sure not to feel all that great when adrenaline wears off. A persistent ringing lingered in their ears, a disorienting reminder of the immediate danger.

Taking cover, the surviving CSU members turned their attention to ECLIPSE, awaiting further instructions. In the midst of the chaos, he knew they couldn't emerge unscathed. There was no room for negotiation or reasoning. This was a dire situation akin to facing a cosmic threat, a perspective ECLIPSE used to cope with the moment. As he quietly recited the names of the fallen, Darson and Hadrick, he sighed heavily. "It's no longer your burden, rest," he uttered somberly.

With a resolve born from necessity, ECLIPSE issued the order, "We're withdrawing. Demagnetize the area and jettison." The weight of his command hung in the air, leaving a momentary disbelief among the surviving CSU members.

"There may be survivors," Travis interjected, his voice carrying a hint of hopeful uncertainty.

"There won't be, one way or the other. Let it be on me," ECLIPSE responded, his words delivered with a solemn acceptance of the grim reality. They looked briefly towards each other, but somberly conceded. As they grabbed hold of the barricade handles and began to pull back, some hobbling, into the hallways carefully but quickly towards the security hub stationed around the elevator. ECLIPSE broke an emergency glass and pulled a lever and started the blast door deployment.

"Lord have mercy," he uttered, motioning a cross over his chest. Alarms blared across the docking area, and a strange surge was felt as magnetic locks on the various vessels popped loose.

Company Time - 0831
██/██/██97
████ ██-██
“CHOSEN ██ ███████”
Mission Status: ACTIVE
Team Status: ALL OK

The team momentarily pauses in response to the opposition disengaging, then quickly groups together when the opportunity presents itself.
”That was a quick withdrawal, are they planning some-” starts Kicker, before hearing the dull, resonant thump of magnetic locks disengaging.
The team freezes, turning their gaze towards the docking field. Valiant mutters to himself a quiet oath, “Fuck, they’re really gonna try and flush us?”
The alarms begin to sound, and Shield quickly settles his rifle, shaking his head. “I guess so. OK, then. Everybody, pressure helmets on. Seal suits, we don’t have a lot of time.” He looks in turn at each of the rest of the team, all of them frozen, and barks, “Snap to it. Now. Or we’re all dead.”
They quickly start pulling the jointed segments of their armor together, forming short-term vacuum suits, and then pull on the full-face MPR masks, designed to recycle breath and protect from vacuum exposure.
This takes maybe a minute, and they stand clear of the many now unsecured ships, in expectation of them being drawn out.
Chen, separate from the rest of the team, doesn’t get the memo immediately until he gets a wave from one of the other team members, who are grouped together in a column formation in preparation for full depressure. He quickly stops firing his sidearm into the already-dead first victims, rushing to lock together his armor and pull on his mask, jogging over to the rest of the team as he did.
He wouldn’t make it, in fact.
In the middle of his hurried rush towards the rest of the assault team, the first interior shield drops, pulling loose debris and several smaller ships out, towards the newly-released vacuum.
A newly-detached comms dish from a ship is the first thing to strike the sadistic mercenary, striking him forcefully across the head, knocking him down as he’s dragged out by the sudden absence.
The rest of the team can only watch, doing their best to stay stable as they anchor themselves to the deck, just trying to slow the pull.
They can’t even yell, as the masks have no internal comms fixture, forcing them to only watch as their compatriot is dragged out, surrounded by flushing debris and the slow shift of docked ships.
Eagle hurriedly taps Shield, gesturing panickedly towards their teammate, but Shield simply shakes his head and places a fist to his forehead.
Dead.

ECLIPSE pressed his palm against the sealed door, a brief pause in the chaos beyond allowing a moment of reflection. The weight of his decision lingered, embodied by the two tags tightly clenched in his hand. He drew a heavy breath, attempting to steady himself.

The radio crackled to life, Lucius's voice breaking through. "ECLIPSE, give me a sitrep, I just got warned of a-"

ECLIPSE swiftly raised the radio to his lips, interrupting Lucius before he could finish. "Couldn't let them follow, sir," he declared, the gravity of his choice evident in the measured tone of his voice. A brief, pregnant silence followed. "We went into this blind, damn it! They may not be packing top-of-the-line, but they've got experience killing their own! Should've terminated them on the spot then we wouldn't have... this."

"Are they dead?" Lucius asked, concern in his voice. ECLIPSE rose, his heavy footsteps echoing in the tense silence as he paced towards the elevator. Methodically reloading his assault rifle with tungsten rounds, his comrades followed suit.

"Don't know, wouldn't count on it, though," ECLIPSE said grimly. "I know you wanted to take at least one in alive, but I don't think that's possible- actually, where the hell is Bashemath's proxy?"

"Bashemath- she can't kill," Lucius asserted. "Not people, it isn't in her nature, you know that."

"Then what is the fucking point!?" Travis interjected, frustration boiling over. ECLIPSE raised his hand to halt him. "Hey, hey! We lost good men, good people in there, and the damn squid won't lift a tentacle anything because she might feel bad!?"

"I'm... I'm sorry," Bashemath's voice cracked, the vulnerability evident even through the modulation of her armored proxy's visor. She lingered in the corridor, the gleam of her visor almost masking the distress as she leaned against the wall. The scenes of carnage had left an indelible mark on her.

ECLIPSE stared at her for a moment, a sigh escaping him. That's right, he thought, powers aside, in the end, she's only just recently reached adulthood. A moment of quiet settled over them as they reached the elevator. He pressed the button repeatedly, but the lockdown had rendered it inoperative. He then looked over his shoulder at the proxy.

"Shit... eh, hey, could you... patch us up?" ECLIPSE requested, addressing Bashemath. Proxy Delta stood, taking a first aid kit in hand, and approached them to administer first aid, tending to the wounds inflicted during the exchange.

Through the detection and scanning systems of the station, a single Aschen cruiser flickered into existence as it exited it's FTL Jump. Slowly turning on its keel to come about, a pair of transmissions were sent on a wideband frequency.

"Deep Seventeen, this is Commander Paktu, of the Aschen Empire's Hastati cruiser Howling Wind, I have assistance inbound."

"Mettatron station, send Friend-Foe data package, and open a docking bay, I have marine strike teams, and medical teams inbound hot."

"I've got separation along their docking systems... This is going to get hairy!" The Condor's pilot radioed on their headset, while signaling towards one of their Starfighter escorts.

"Alpha-344, watch for debris!"

The marine Sergeant looked back towards his squad as they readied for insertion. "We'll likely be fighting in hostile conditions, possibly a vacuum, check your gear and prepare for hard departure. Grid Two Three is hot, expect resistance, and civvies in the AO. Check your targets, watch the crossfire." He instructed. "Ten Microns to contact!"

Slipping through the docking bay was the imposing frame of the first Aschen Condor strike transport. It's angular edifices and matte black painting was broken up by the simple V shaped emblem, and stylized phoenix emblazoned on the side that clearly identified it. Its engines howled inside the docking bay as it nodded, and angled itself to avoid various ships, equipment, and anything else that had come loose.

Swinging around, and pivoting to reveal its rear facing hatch, and troop bay, the Condor stabilized itself, and the pressurized cabin quickly began to equalize with the external atmosphere.

The squad of eight Imperial Aschen marines in CUIRASSE type powered exoskeletons checked their weapons, and began activating the battle interfaces within their suits, including an uplink to the cruiser, and to EVE.

"Wait for IFF Confirmation before engaging!" The Marine sergeant ordered while his helmet locked into position. "If we're engaged, neutralize all threats!"

The whining of disruptor weapons coming to life filled the cabin of the Condor, and the scattered individuals all throughout the interior of the bay were highlighted in various shades of color.

"I have wounded!" One Marine called out as he held his disruptor high, and jumped off the back of the Condor, while his comrades moved in single file, taking cover behind crates, overturned ships, or anything they could find. Eight Aschen Marines prepped for combat while the Condor pivoted around once more, and tried to make it's exit, and allow the second condor to make entry, and drop additional troops.

A single message came out through the wideband out of the Marine sergeant to the terrorists should they be listening.

"Unidentified soldiers drop your weapons, and surrender!"

███████ ████ - 08██
██/██/██97
████ ██-██
"██████ ██ ███████"
███████ Status: ACTIVE
████ Status: 1 PRES. DECEASED

The team freezes in response to the sudden arrival, silently cutting free of their harnesses and stomping their feet to magnetize against the metal deck.

"Any one of you want to fall out, now's your chance," whispers Shield to the rest of MARAUDER-3, and Eagle falters, dropping his Gauss rifle and stepping back from the line the other three have formed. Nobody turns to look at him, the small team instead staring dead-straight at the incoming Aschen, unmoving, as their sniper places his hands behind his head and falls to his knees.

"You made your choice. They won't be kind." Eagle nods shakily, clenching his eyes shut.

Shield taps on the pistol-grip of his rifle rhythmically, counting down in his head as the soldiers continue to get closer, the vacuum stronger than before. Six-one-thousand, five-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, three-one-thous-

The corpse of Chen, smoothly being pulled out above the heads of the Marines, explodes before he hits one, flinging bits of gore and bone in a rough pattern with the sound of a loud, harsh cracking, like that of ice. The moment is short, but the blood, now expanding in a rough sphere, creates a momentary distraction.

Immediately, the team begins to move, sprinting for the closest cover, most of it being dragged away by the suction. Valiant, the SAW-bearer, opens fire on the cockpit glass of the Condor, peppering the transparent shield with gunfire that causes small pits in the glass as it leaves in the hopes of blinding it, carefully moving in between cover before shifting it back down to the soldiers dotting the ground, spraying mostly above the cover they took to keep their heads down. The other two of his quickly reduced team direct their fire towards the Marines on the ground, moving through the shifting maze of cargo by dashing from one mass to the other. Kicker and Shield fire on the first line of advancing Marines, striking several hard enough to knock them down.

There was no hope of winning, not at this point. Sure, their five-man team had made the security force of an entire station withdraw, but this wasn't something they were ready for. They didn't have a hope of taking down... what, more than twenty actual soldiers, and three troop carriers. They might still make it far enough to hold out for the secondary team, but if they were all dead, then there wouldn't be backup. Their job was to secure entry, and entry wasn't secured. Fuck.
Things were quickly shaping up to be a colossal mess, as things usually were. It was even more hopeless, now, but still, they might make it out, though the chances were diminishing with every passing half-second.

"You can't be serious!" Hayden pleaded with Lucius, desperation in his voice, as he watched Lucius equip himself with weapons and armor. Each check and adjustment were made with a precision that spoke of grim determination; Lucius wasn't preparing to escape, but to face the impending conflict head-on. Security personnel attempted to block his path toward the elevator, but Hayden positioned himself beside Lucius, joined by concerned staff from the operations room.

This visceral reaction came on the heels of the latest death count—members of the Crisis Suppression Unit included. Lucius, burdened with the responsibility of announcing each casualty and providing some semblance of reason or justification, found himself grappling with an unanswerable "why."

"We can, yeah, we can still get this under control," Hayden asserted, clinging to a flicker of hope.

"Control? There are corpses down there, some adrift, how do I explain this? For what cause!?" Lucius erupted, the weight of his words echoing in the tense atmosphere. "I left the service for change, and now we're back to men killing men, and nothing changes."

"Uh, sir, we're being hailed," interrupted one of the operation staff. Lucius paused, his gaze shifting to the staff member who had delivered the news.

"Hailed? By who? Play it," Lucius commanded.

"Deep Seventeen, this is Commander Paktu, of the Aschen Empire's Hastati cruiser Howling Wind, I have assistance inbound."

"Wait... Aschen?" Lucius questioned, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone. Murmurs rippled through the gathered staff.

"Mettatron station, send Friend-Foe data package, and open a docking bay, I have marine strike teams, and medical teams inbound hot."

"Well damn, God works in mysterious ways," Lucius muttered, his focus shifting. He walked over, unburdening himself of some weapons before taking control of the transmission.

"This is Lucius Lamech of Deep 17. Our docking bay was recently... purged in an effort to restrict hostiles. It is about as open as it gets, but there will be a vacuum. Sending data now," he informed, giving the go-ahead for the staff to transmit essential information. "We have multiple casualties, two security officers, and multiple non-combatants. The hostiles are posing as miners, and dressed accordingly. No idea on the cause of hostilities. Possibly a RAV. And... thank you."

He lied, but only a little. He knew there had to be something behind this attack, it was just that he couldn't figure that out what. Sure, he knew that people can just attack one another for any cause, even slight and petty, but he had only ever sought the best for everybody, at least, in service to Deep 17. To say the least, this wasn't his first time to wield a rifle.

---

ECLIPSE received the situational report just as Bashemath's proxy skillfully pulled his right leg outward before pushing in on his thigh with an audible pop. A wave of intense pain surged through him, his fists clenching tightly. Then, relief washed over him, and he slumped over in relief.

"Holy shi..! Yeah, okay, so you know they're going to ask for favors, yeah? Ah, what the hell, at least we're on their good side," ECLIPSE remarked, catching his breath. He began to test his right leg, moving it in and out. Stiff and somewhat cold, but at least it was mostly functional. "You've done this before?"

"Not really," Bashemath admitted, offering a nervous chuckle. ECLIPSE rose and made his way toward the blast door, grabbing a pressurized suit. "Wait, what are you doing? Aren't the Asc-"

"Bastards killed two of my officers... besides, somebody has to repressurize this mess," he declared, before starting the override for the blast door, and readying his rifle, his remaining officers getting on pressurized suits as well. "The hell you doing?"

"I dunno, our job?" Travis answered plainly.

Strike Team Alpha
Howling Wind Marine 3rd Company

Blood, viscera, and sinews expanded in a sphere outward in every direction, coating the black armor and exosuits of the approaching Aschen marines in a sheen of blood, and bone. They remained undeterred though as their systems registered the threat.

"Suppress, and advance!" The Marine sergeant called out into his communication system. With everything in a vacuum sound became muffled, and eventually nonexistent. The SAW bearer opened fire at the condor in the hangar bay, and each projectile made its target, but there was something peculiar, as each round passed within a few feet of the Condor, it would become bathed in a curtain of light, striking the glass with no more than a sliver of its kinetic energy, and ricocheting harmlessly in several different directions. The rapid fire of the SAW did serve to briefly cause the men to take cover wherever they could find it.

"We need covering fire, break their positions!"

"Jensen, Gage, flank left! Damaris, Cowen, you're with me!" In the confusion, several Marines without cover were struck by incoming fire, revealing their layered protection as personal shields flared in flashes of white light against the incoming fire. This bought them scant seconds to get into cover and return fire.

The first Condor made its departure swiftly as the marines took their positions. Slowly it began to ease its way out to make room for the second Condor's arrival.

"Echo-433 Hold your position until the advance team has secured the Hangar, we have too much resistance right now." EVE chimed in as the pilot of the second Condor began to position for entry, slowly easing the controls for a better view of what was transpiring inside.

The men began acquiring their targets, confirmation lit up their internal systems and they had their enemies, this meant things would be a bit more cut and drier. The few moments that lapsed came to an end as the men returned fire.

Green light filled the inside of the hangar, several entrenched marines returning fire with their disruptor rifles, sending searing green lances of light towards the enemy. Each lance of light radiated intense heat in the vacuum of the bay, and even glancing hits would be enough to torch metal and melt plastic. Each disruptor impact left a small, speckled crater of molten metal against the walls.

Shield, Valiant, and Kicker would find themselves against a torrent of brilliant, almost blinding green bolts of light from the entrenched Aschen positions. They were making up for the semi-automatic nature of their disruptor rifles by firing in volleys and using numerical superiority to concentrate their fire on the enemy. Two flanked to the left, while three more pushed up the center, leaving three Marines to approach Eagle through the deteriorating environment, gravity boots firmly locking them into position. One Marine drew his disruptor rifle on Eagle, and two more moved to pin his arms behind his back and drag him into their positions after shoving his weapon away in the Zero-G environment.

"Airlocks cycling, possible contacts inbound! Field of fire on that bulkhead!"

Among the chaos, the second Condor slipped into the bay, it's rear hatches opening to dispense the next squad of Marines. Following a brief frisk for any additional weapons, Eagle would find himself being pulled towards this other condor by his captors. They had a prisoner it seemed, and he would be properly interrogated back aboard the cruiser where more resources could be employed to question him.

███████ ████ - 08██
██/██/██97
████ ██-██
"██████ ██ ███████"
███████ Status: ACTIVE
████ Status: 1 VER. DECEASED, 1 PRES. CAPTURED

They were undoubtedly all going to die here. There wasn't anything they could do to delay or stop that.
Kicker caught a disruptor bolt to the throat, the heat instantly melting the armored covering and searing the flesh underneath it, giving him a split moment to reach up before going limp. Shield releases his rifle and darts over to check on his co-captain, narrowly ducking under the next volley and behind, only to be met by the arriving CSU from the rear.

As the atmosphere fully exits the docks, Valiant finds his SAW rendered useless, the gas-blowback system rendered inert. Throwing his PK2 down to strike the dock floor, he raises his arms and steps toward the Aschen troops. One of the disruptor rounds strikes him in the thigh, causing him to stumble forward and end up in a half-kneeling position, arms still clenched behind his head.

Shield looks blankly through his faceplate at the returning security agents, holding his officer in his arms. With another few seconds of hesitation, he pulls Kicker's SR-9 from his hip and places it against his comrade's faceplate, sending a high-caliber round through the helmet of the man in a second, then through his own the next. Both of them go slack, their limp forms half-floating in the zero-gravity environment, secured to the 'ground' only by the soles of their magnetic locks.

About eight seconds pass before the bodies of the two team leaders inflate underneath their armor, the explosive charges cracking the interior and causing blood to seep out in a cloud from the holes punched in their helmets.

4,000 Miles Away, closing distance.
Marauder-6, secondary reinforcement team. Message from OVERWATCH reads as follows.
██/██/██97
MARAUDER-6
Secure Status: FAILED
ALL Status: 3 VER. DECEASED, 2 PRES. CAPTURED
OVERWATCH TO SUPPORT, WITHDRAW, DO NOT- REPEAT- DO NOT REINFORCE, HEAVY CASUALTIES. LANDING UNSECURE, MISSION FAILURE. PROBE TEAM MET HEAVY RESPONSE, MISSION FAILURE. OUTMATCHED.

GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOU.

The mining vessel quickly decelerates from FTL, coming to a slow halt moments later.
Inside, the team of forty sit quietly after the synthetic voice flashes over comms.
"Does that mean we can go home?"
"I don't know."


Around six minutes later, the mining barge floats in a cloud of debris, ripped into jagged halves.