by Andrew Iddon
In all this a now adult soldier in the Imperial Army was sitting on his cot on the newly discovered planet in the Delta system, aptly named by the Imperium, Nassau, or the Orange planet. The man stared at a letter addressed to him, addressed to Gregory Simons.
It had been several years since the events in high school; Gregory was now a man, a sergeant in the Imperial Army. He had long since replaced the sad memories of his friend, Freddy, and the disappearance of the girl they both had loved. He was a respectable young man with soft brown hair, was cleanly shaven, and had a strong physique. Every Imperial trooper was to maintain a strong physique, balancing their height and weight, along with their skill class. If a soldier was useless in the battle field he was named useless to humanity and was either disbanded or killed. The life of a soldier in the Imperium was a tough one, but to last would bring you and your name great honor. Greg had great respect from his peers and his superiors; he was named sergeant and given command over his own squad of Imperium troopers after only two years of service. He was a competent leader, lost many troops, but saved more. He had led his men to many victories alongside the grand army. He had been in many battles and skirmishes, even against the dreaded Black Hand mercenary organization.
Gregory picked up the letter; the first letter he had received in ages; he opened the seal, and read it. It was quite brief; just an interview time and place with the man known as the “Chairman”, named due to his extraordinary company and wealth. His company, Universal Incorporated, had bought out and claimed ownership of over seventy-five percent of the human’s economy in the galaxy. Their founder, the Chairman, was a genius salesman who could buy or sell anything he wanted if he put his mind to it. His charm and attractive outer shell helped to persuade people to do what he wanted.
It all hid a darker force on the inside, for the Chairman owned and operated many mercenary organizations, including the Black Hand. He and his company were involved in all aspects of science and technology, weapons manufacturing, even food and medical production. His company’s power outstood even some human colonies. He dealt a lot under the table, involved in the production of illegal substances and objects. He also invested a lot of his wealth in certain researches that would be frowned upon by the normal person. The distribution of weaponry containing alien technologies was one of many of the industries to which he devoted much of his time and money. The subject that interested him most, however, was human cloning.
Gregory decided to catch the next shuttle to Mandredar City, where the Chairman’s headquarters was located. Mandredar was in the Delta system, on the planet Nuevo Mundo, meaning new world in the Spanish language, and considered the first planet colonized by mankind. Gregory arrived via the shuttle transit system and walked towards the address indicated on the letter.
He had never been to Mandredar before, and was a little overwhelmed by the size of the sprawling metropolis. He arrived at the address, and found himself staring at a massive, magnificent structure: the Universal Incorporated Tower. It stood higher than any other building in the city; its size made the city look small. He thought to himself that perhaps the Chairman was compensating for something.
He entered the main lobby, approached the lobby clerk, and waited for her to notice him. She was an attractive young woman, and, had Greg been a more confident man, he would have attempted to flirt. But he simply smiled as she looked up at him. “Hello, my name is Sergeant Gregory Simons of the Imperium. I received a letter from the Chairman who told me to meet him here.”
“Ooh, you must be lucky; no one gets to see the Chairman unless it is of utmost importance. He is a very busy man; but my, he is dreamy,” replied the clearly smitten clerk. “You can go up to see him. Just head into that elevator, and speak with his personal secretary, who obviously must be sleeping with someone to get that job.”
Greg didn’t know how to respond, and, instead, just smiled and nodded at the begrudged clerk, and made his way to the elevator. He looked at the button list, and was engrossed with all the options. He pressed the Chairman’s office button, and felt a stunning sensation in his body. It was not a normal vertical elevator; it was actually a teleportation beacon. He suddenly regained feeling in his body when the bright light faded, and he emerged from the warp box into a large room.
The secretary took his name and opened the large reinforced doors into a gargantuan office. Greg walked along the shiny marble floor, his footsteps clopping like a horse’s hooves, since nothing else in the room made a sound. He approached a large chair, which swung around to reveal the Chairman.
Greg was in awe to finally meet the richest man in the galaxy. They shook hands, exchanged introductions, and got right to business. The Chairman stood up, and walked towards the window which spanned the entire back wall of his office. He stared at the people below with his hands behind his back, looking officious and kinglike. He was wearing a perfectly pressed suit, and a silky black tie with a pure silver tie clip attached to his dress shirt. His shiny polished shoes seemed to be Italian dress shoes which were nearly impossible to find anymore. He had short blonde hair styled to suit his stature well; it gave him a very powerful look, along with his height and build.
“It’s amazing,” he suddenly stated. “So many people, yet so many pointless lives; they do not have what it will take to become what they can be.”
Greg stared blankly, not quite understanding.
“Look at me, Mr. Simons. I am one man, a rather normal person, and yet I have become the most wealthy and influential person in the known galaxy today. If a man without a name can accomplish so much, then why can’t all these hopeful naive drones do likewise? I am power; I am success. No one dare crosses me; not even the Imperial Council will cross me. I fund the Imperium; if they lose me, they lose their Empire.”
“I don’t see why you’re telling me this, Mr. Chairman, Sir”, replied Greg.
“Let me ask you something, Mr. Simons. Why do you serve the Emperor?”
“It is my duty as an Imperial soldier to serve the Emperor until my dying breath,” answered Greg proudly.
“Yes, yes, I am aware of the macho soldier motto stuff. Hoo Ra! and all that, but why do YOU personally serve the Imperium? What do you gain?” asked the Chairman.
“Well I suppose the safety of knowing that I belong, that I have a future, and that I will be looked after,” said Greg.
“I see, and do you think your enemies have that belief as well, that the powers they serve belong as well? Do they think they are safe, and shouldn’t be punished if it was what they believe in?” asked the Chairman sternly.
Greg thought for a moment before answering, “Only if their beliefs don’t cause harm to the innocent, no matter who or where they are.”
“So who is innocent in your mind? Imperial citizens? All citizens? Aliens?”
“Anyone or anything who lives to live, and lets others live in their own mind,” replied Greg.
“There must obviously be exceptions to this case. Say a man lives to live, yet hates his neighbor for letting his dog shit on his lawn. And one day he kills the dog so that he may live to live without dog shit on his lawn; is he innocent in your thinking?” inquired the Chairman with a snarky tone.
“Well, obviously, exceptions can be made, but a more fair compromise should have been made. What is the purpose of this? We are both busy men, and I know you didn’t bring me here for a debate on beliefs and morals.” said Greg frustratingly.
“Very well, Mr. Simons, I see there’s no bullshitting you. Well, you see you are more important than you know. You are a brave soldier, loyal and trusting, yet I have decided to warn you of a coming darkness. The Imperium is destined to fall, and this certain individual has told me he believes he is the one to do it. I cannot quite understand him with his accent, but I got the gist of it. He is currently making his move, and I am telling you this because you seem to be an honest and no
ble guy. Believe me when I tell you this, too. There is a serious lack of people like you in this galaxy. I can’t tell you much, and I personally don’t know much more, but heed my words. Be careful of whom you trust, and of whom you will be fighting. All you need to know is that nothing is what it seems; this illusion of peace you believe in, and hold dear, will not last; it’s human nature. Just know there is a new player in town, and he should not be taken lightly. You have to go now, but, when the time comes, I will try and help you as best I can. But you cannot tell anyone about this, understand?”
Greg nodded, still ridiculously confused by what he had just heard, and left before anything could change the Chairman’s mind. He walked out of the building, and back towards the star port to return to his post on Nassau, still pondering what the Chairman meant. Who was this foreign guy, and how did he know him? This foreigner was a threat to the Imperium, the force that he served; yet to inform them would lead him to be disbanded, or even killed for being insane.
He boarded the shuttle, and arrived back at his base several days later. He returned to his cot, and laid on his back, still thinking more than he had in a while. He got frustrated trying to believe if the brief, yet important, meeting with the Chairman even happened; trying to believe if he had really left his cot in the first place. He eventually accepted the fact, and managed to get himself to sleep.
He had an important mission ahead of him the next day, for he was to lead a group of men into rebel territory. He did not fully understand why they rebelled; they just simply believed that the Imperium and its Emperor were all false and pointless. The Imperium named these men blasphemers and traitors to the greater good of mankind, and thought they must all be destroyed.
CHAPTER 5
Morning came, and Greg prepped his combat armor ready for the upcoming conflict; he buckled his straps and fastened his helmet on tight. He picked up his standard issue Imperial Battle Rifle. It wasn’t a rapid fire weapon. However, it was a very accurate and powerful semi automatic rifle. His armor was light, though strong, and flexible, allowing quick movement. Imperium armor traditionally was tan in colour with brown under the armor. Rounded features with some rigid edges on the shoulders and helmet visor were easily distinguished, and most infantry had a combat mask that was deployable on demand from inside the helmet.
Greg was ready for battle, so he decided to rendezvous with his squad, and pump them up. He went into the armory to find them all locked and loaded. The Imperium’s soldiers never wasted time; they were trained from either birth or time of recruitment to be the best they could be. Laziness was punished severely.
They were all prepped and onboard an All Terrain Transport vehicle, so Greg began his briefing, “Right, men, we have a mission of utmost importance and utmost confidentiality. We have been tasked with liberating an abandoned Imperium research facility from the hands of rebel squatters who are using it as a staging point against us. There are important documents and files inside, and we cannot allow the rebels to get their traitorous hands on them. We have the element of surprise here, so let us not waste our chance. Let’s get in quickly, and quietly, and destroy any rebels that stand in our way.”
“What important files are we to secure?” asked Ripjack, one of Greg’s heavy weapons specialists.
“I was not told, and you can rest assured if I am not allowed to know what is in the archives in this factory, then you aren’t either, so no snooping around; this could get us big points with high command. We could possibly see some decent action soon if we play our cards right; maybe something that puts us on the same level as the 1991st Regiment,” replied Greg.
“HAH! Keep dreaming, Sergeant. We have a lot of asses to kiss if we are to be recognized alongside Malcolm Andronius and the 1991st,” laughed Ripjack, as the rest of the men chuckled along. They all quieted down, and checked their gear, eagerly awaiting their destination. Heavy metal music with raunchy guitar riffs and double bass blast beats pumped into their helmet radios, jacking them up for the fight to come.
The danger zone approached; the music was shut off, and all the soldiers in the ATT remained silent. They lowered their facemasks, and resorted to complete radio communication through their combat helmets. The ATT stopped, and the soldiers quickly hopped out, setting up a defensive perimeter, while Sergeant Simons took a quick recon of the area to scout the station. He had fifteen soldiers under his command, fifteen hand-picked out of the fresh recruits from the academy, fifteen of the best. They moved simultaneously, quickly, and silently under the shadow of a nearby mountain.
They lined up single file along a ridge known as the Red Wolf Ridge. Pinpoint, the team sniper, used his scope to mark targets. He did not see anyone; the outside of the station appeared abandoned. The soldiers were all a little confused; perhaps the rebels had left, or perhaps it was an ambush. They all moved together quietly to the front door of the station, they opened the main door, and scurried inside, using a well practised breach and clear tactic for entering rooms.
They stared into the darkness, turned on their helmet lights to see into the black abyss, and ventured into it. They delved deeper into the facility, seeing nothing but dust and empty rooms. They moved as a complete unit.
“Look, this must be the research labs,” said Ripjack, as the squad neared the end of the corridor.
“Right, everyone form up… wait… can you hear that?” asked Greg.
“Yeah, it sounds like gunshots.” replied Ripjack.
“That doesn’t make sense. Gryphon didn’t send two teams. Who else is here besides us?” asked Greg.
They stared at each other blankly; curious as to whom the rebels could be fighting if not more Imperials. Greg gave the go for them to open the door, and, as soon as the hulking metal bulkhead separated, the squad scrambled in, and took stealth measures on the catwalk above. Greg peaked over the wall to see what the hell was going on. What he saw was shocking!
In front of him was a huge room, a room that could fit an entire Imperium regiment. It was full of strange cylindrical containers and pods in an organized formation all around the room. There were maybe two dozen rebel soldiers taking cover behind a section of the containers, and exchanging fire with an unknown force.
They appeared to be human. They were wearing very intricate black battle armor, and they had red glowing eyes of different varieties, possibly varying between the soldier types. They looked very professional, and well trained; they were firing in perfect sequence, and looked well organized and precise.
Greg did not know what to do. Maybe they were FEC soldiers with new uniforms, and maybe they were friendly. Greg and his soldiers lay in wait, remaining as hidden as best they could. Eventually, the rebels were utterly defeated, except for four men that surrendered.
Out of the strange new soldiers emerged one who seemed to be a commander of some kind. He came out in the open, and approached the rebels who had their hands above their heads. He had a full face mask covering his entire head. He wore a black peaked cap that flared at the top slightly, and a long black leather trench coat with a very proper black dress uniform underneath, a terrifying sight. He stood hulking over the prisoners, and stared blankly at them through the round black glass of his circular goggles; he spoke to them in a strange language.
Greg could not hear him, for he was too far away. The rebel seemed to understand though, and handed over what seemed to be a disc of some kind. Before Greg could even react, the large black clothed man raised his pistol, and executed the prisoners. He then turned his head in Greg’s direction within an instant. It was as if he had radar in his mask. He raised his hand, and yelled an order in the same language, and every soldier on the floor immediately turned, and opened fire on Greg’s troops.
The brave Imperial soldiers exchanged fire back at them. Bullets whizzed over the cover, and the room filled with pinging sounds of stray bullets hitting the metal walls and ceiling. The lar
ge masked man then, without even flinching, shot one round from his pistol, which struck Greg in the shoulder while he was taking aim. Then, he turned, and fled. The rest of the soldiers followed quickly. At this point, the Imperials shot at their backs, but the bullets did not seem to faze them. They simply just struck the unknown enemy without damaging them at all.
The battle was over, but there was no clear winner. Those mysterious enemies must have come for something that was in this facility and, by the looks of things, they got it.
Greg had lost two soldiers, and they mourned their loss. The bodies were bagged and tagged, and sent back with half the squad to the ATT. Greg and the remainder made their way to the battle zone, looking for any evidence as to what had happened. There were twenty four dead rebels, including the four prisoners executed after they gave the masked man the disc. They looked for any of the fallen mysterious soldiers, but there were none. There was not a single casualty among the black armored men, which was fascinating.
“Marcynuk, check the databases and archives. Try and locate any files that might seem important,” said Greg to his squad technician.
“Sir, it appears that there is nothing left on the computers. They have been wiped clean; there is no evidence of anything here. They must have transferred all the data to that disk, which is now in the hands of that masked guy,” replied Marcynuk, bitterly.
The squad searched every crevice of that station, and even the outside for signs of the enemies’ escape, but they hid their trail perfectly. It was almost as if they were ghosts. Greg still saw fit to tag and bag the rebels, and bring them back for more analysis, in case they missed something. They took photos of the facility itself, as well, not only for his superiors but for his own research. Greg suspected the Imperium would not tell him or his soldiers what the station was, so he decided to make doubles of all photos so he could investigate himself as to what was going on.