___________________________

  HEARTBREAKERS AND LIFETAKERS

  Jackson was nearing his objective, the markings he had made earlier from his vantage point dutifully guiding him to where his goal was.

  Checking his wrist computer, the corporal once again reminded himself to keep steady pace. It’d been two hours since their drop. The first window for the Strike Force to land had closed, the next one would come up in an hour. After that, they’d have one last shot at getting the marines down on the planet before sunrise.

  If that didn’t get through, then the Skydivers would be on their own for the time being, at least until another window could be secured.

  Jackson glanced up at the heavens, still laden with heavy clouds and storms, droplets of rain immediately hitting his visor. Somewhere up there, the 1st Fleet was undoubtedly fighting for supremacy against their enemy.

  The 3rd Fleet had received a brutal bashing during first contact, so at least the 1st had the benefit of hindsight to learn from.

  Still, their briefing had made clear that orbital support was not guaranteed.

  The 1st would try their best to maintain control over the system, but it was unknown how quickly and gruesomely their enemy would react. Some simulations had suggested that an enemy counterattack could occur in less than a day, with harrowing results.

  So, the faster the marines were able to get to ground and establish a foothold, the quicker control over the system could be established.

  With any luck not all planetary defences had been found and deactivated, meaning that once the Strike Force got a hold of the launch sites, humanity could introduce their adversaries to the nuclear option.

  More importantly, long-range solar missiles could strike their foes anywhere inside the system – with some assistance from the fleet’s targeting systems – and ensure their foes had no other choice but to flee the system and leave Odessa under the care of the SCN.

  But, before any of those lofty goals could be established, New Poltava’s defences needed to be taken out. Time was of the essence.

  Thusly, Jackson got a move on, once again breaking out into a jog after he’d finished regaining some stamina. Times such as these reminded the corporal why it wasn’t such a bad thing that Skydivers travelled as lightly as they did.

  Yet, for a moment Jackson had to hold up when he heard a faintly familiar sound in the distance. Buzzing. Drones?

  The Skycorps, much like the rest of the SCN and SCAF, made use of drones, though mostly for reconnaissance. Not much room for explosive payloads.

  The corporal strained his ears trying to ascertain where the buzzing was coming from, or where it was headed, but the wind and ongoing storm made that an impossibility. Were his ears playing tricks on him though? It sounded like a swarm, not just a single drone.

  Maybe the echoes?

  Though, his thoughts were quickly brought back to the here and now when he was met with two sights. One, being the complex of three skyscrapers that were his target, a couple hundred meters down the street. The other though, was a group of aliens, holding the street and seemingly examining an empty pod in the middle of it.

  Quickly hopping back behind cover, Jackson held his breath for a moment, straining his ears against the sounds of the night to see if his enemy had been alerted to his presence. But nothing came of it.

  With renewed confidence, Jackson once again peeked out and took a closer look: the three-skyscraper block was about three hundred meters down the street, with the road leading to a fork right in front of the complex, breaking off to the left and right. Though they were surrounded by plenty of other buildings, those three towers were the largest this side of the neighbourhood.

  The street that led up to it was the same as most others in the city, mostly empty, save for the few abandoned vehicles spread out across it.

  Though, his eyes did spot some kind of shape further down the street by the towers. It stuck out from the middle of the street, not caring for its placement or for blocking off access.

  While its placement, shape and potential emplacements didn’t make too much sense to his human sensibilities, it was obvious to Jackson that that was an enemy fortification.

  The first of its kind that he’d seen.

  As the trooper continued eyeing the battlefield, something caught his attention. A glint coming from one of the nearby buildings, left side of the street.

  No, it wasn’t a glint. A laser pointer. Directed at him.

  It was periodically turning on and off, with clear intervals between them. Morse code.

  Somebody was trying to communicate with him.

  Five short ones. Break. Three short ones, followed by two long ones. Break. Again, three short ones, followed by two long ones. Break.

  Five Three Three.

  It didn’t make sense to him at first, but after a moment his mind finally caught up. 533 was a frequency, short wave coms.

  Quickly ducking back behind cover, Jackson tuned his communicator to that frequency and waited for the static to subside. After a pointed moment of silence, with the trooper holding his breath, it finally cleared up. Licking his lips, Jackson gathered his wits and announced himself: “This is Corporal Patrick Jackson, Fireteam Jaeger, 1st Regiment of the Skycorps. Do you read?”

  White noise and quiet crackling. And then, finally, a friendly voice.

  “Loud and clear corp, nice to see that more of you buffoons from the 1st made it.”

  And evidently, it was someone not from the 1st. Guessing by the immediate jab, Jackson would bet money on it being someone from the 2nd. Envy made for good banter after all.

  “Very funny… who am I talking to?”

  “Sergeant Crivello, from the 2nd. With me is Specialist Raines. She’s on the anti-material.”

  Called it.

  Focusing back on his conversation and supressing his smirk, Jackson continued: “I see. I might’ve stumbled across her handiwork a few blocks earlier.”

  “Then you can imagine what we’re up to Jackson. You in?”

  “Depends, how many are of you are there?”

  “Me and Raines have the high ground here on the sixth floor. We also stumbled across one of your friends from the 1st, a certain Frederick Heermann. Said he’s also from Jaeger. He’s in another building further down the street, making sure no surprises come our way.”

  That genuinely surprised Jackson. After what’d happened to Langstrom, he didn’t think he’d ever see that icy bastard from the colonies ever again.

  Not alive, at least.

  “Fucking… well, it’s good to know that Fred’s still alive. Any more?”

  “Just one stray from the 3rd, PFC Saberi. He’s over in the adjacent building from us, other side of the street. He also just so happens to have a surplus of grenades that we so graciously donated to him.”

  Well, it was becoming obvious to Jackson what his fellow Skydivers were planning. How exactly they’d managed to lure the aliens into such a perfect kill zone, he’d ask them after they survived the ensuing firefight. If they survived the ensuing firefight.

  “I can definitely see what you’re planning. Anything you need me to do Sarge?”

  “Not much, though I’d suggest once Saberi opens up with his ‘nades, wait for the smoke to clear and get their attention. When the plasma starts flying in your direction, duck back down and stay there. I’ll call you on shortrange when you can move in to flank them. We should have these nonhuman freaks finished off in a minute or two.”

  “Sounds doable. Ready when you are.”

  Crivello gave an affirmative, after which he closed coms, Jackson ducking down behind his little corner and peeking out at the group of invaders.

  They were still huddled around that pod for some reason.

  It was a fairly standard group, at least as far as his own experiences went.

  Three of those enforcers, with one of them having more padding on their armour; presumably some kind of added protection for team-leaders?

  With them was a flock of those featherless things, six in total. Three of them were on the pod, the other three holding a perimeter around the group.

  There was also one of those hulking brutes there, the creature barely managing to hold steady as it reared its head in every direction, seemingly desperate to get moving.

  And lastly, there were three of those feline ones, quietly stalking around the group as they watched their surroundings.

  That brute though, had Jackson worried.

  The way it sometimes reared its head up and then looked at one of the buildings… was it smelling something? A lot of these aliens had certain animalistic traits to them, so the possibility of one of them having enhanced senses of smell definitely wasn’t out of the question.

  “Heads up Jackson, we’re going hot…”

  Heeding Crivello’s warning, Jackson crouched down behind the corner and slowly peeked out, waiting for hell to finally break loose.

  Silence.

  Then, amidst the noise of distant battle and the storm overhead, his ears barely picked up on a very distinctive noise. A noise that immediately spiked his instincts into attention and made the hairs on his neck bristle.

  Frag grenades hitting the tarmac.

  Making himself as small as he could behind his cover, Jackson held his breath and clenched his teeth together, as he waited for the explosion to come.

  And arrive it did, with multiple grenades going off around the corner, sending shrapnel into any direction they could, some of it even impacting close by to his position.

  “Another Frag going out!”

  The cacophony continued for a few seconds, after which Crivello appeared on comms: “Alright, this is it, OPEN FIRE!”

  Hopping around the corner, Jackson took a knee and aimed his MIX down the street. The cloud of smoke from the grenades was still clearing, with the aliens nothing more than shapeless forms behind it.

  One big one stuck out to him. The brute was still alive.

  Taking aim, Jackson sent a burst down its centre mass, which made it stumble, but didn’t fall yet. The thing was obviously disoriented and hurting.

  Bringing his sights to bear, Jackson sent another burst into it, this time aiming at its head, finally dropping the hulking beast.

  Though, that small triumph was immediately soured by the enforcers hopping out of the smoke, all three of them still active. And the three aliens didn’t wait even a second to immediately hurl plasma down range in all directions.

  Barely avoiding a shot aimed at him, Jackson fell back behind the corner, molten tarmac splashing against his coat as plasma evaporated the street where he’d knelt just a second earlier.

  “FUCKING HELL!”

  Cursing, Jackson rolled away from the molten concrete, patting himself down to see if everything was still as it should be. At least it didn’t seem like he got seriously burnt.

  Getting on his legs this time, Jackson dared another peek around the corner, just to see that one of the enforcers was now making its way over to him, the alien sending another shot of plasma his way.

  Falling back, though less gracefully than the Skydiver would’ve liked, Jackson found himself on his ass as plasma obliterated the corner, hurling shrapnel and dust his way, superheated material sizzling against his protective uniform.

  Desperately crawling backwards, Jackson snatched his MIX and sent a few bullets towards his adversary, hoping to maybe chase it away or at least buy himself another second.

  The enforcer rounded the corner, the alien figure warbling something in noises he couldn’t comprehend, as it looked down at him and aimed its weapon at Jackson.

  Thankfully, either Crivello or Raines seemed to have realized the predicament he was in. As, not a second too late, an anti-material shot burst its way through the alien, blowing its insides all over the street and splashing it in that same fluid that Jackson had seen earlier.

  From the brief look he’d gotten he could’ve sworn he saw… tentacles?

  Still, the corporal’s mind soon returned to a far more important predicament, compelling his body to move and get back on its legs. The alien might not have been moving anymore, but that didn’t stop the trooper from sending a few more rounds into it, just to make sure that it was dead.

  “Jackson? Ey Jackson, you still alive?”

  “I’m good… I’m good… thanks.”

  “You can thank me after we’re out of this firefight! So, move your ass up the street and put some rounds downrange!”

  Following Crivello’s orders, Jackson shook his head a bit and made his way around the corner again.

  The firefight was still going. One of the feline ones was still active, ducking and weaving between cars as it fired on the buildings. Two of those bird ones were also still alive, having taken cover behind a divider on the street and providing covering fire.

  Most concerningly though, was the fact that there was still a leader active. And it was the up armoured one.

  Though it wasn’t giving out any hand signals – and Jackson could certainly not understand a single noise these things were making – the way it moved between the survivors and let out loud warbles made the trooper all the surer in his assessment that these things were responsible for controlling their teams.

  The aliens on their own had seemed rather passive, but with these enforcers around, it gave him the impression that they were better organized as units, far more lethal in their tactics and manoeuvring.

  The best the featherless ones had been able to do in his earlier engagement, had been to get into cover and try to lay down some fire. The feline one hadn’t even stuck around in that fight to help the others.

  But here, under the guidance of one of those leaders, they moved as one, shooting while the others were displacing, covering each other’s angles and holding up against the onslaught, despite being outnumbered and surrounded.

  As Jackson took cover behind an abandoned car, he brought his sights down range, waiting for the feline one to change cover again. When it once again zipped from one position to another, the corporal sent a burst its way, snagging it mid-run and causing the alien to crash to the ground.

  The leader momentarily took its attention away from the buildings and turned slightly towards Jackson’s position, before letting out more strange warbles, likely warning its remaining team of the human flanker.

  It didn’t amount to much though, as that lapse in its attention was enough for Raines to send a round through the bus it was behind, the large bullet easily ripping through the thin metal and driving directly into the midsection of the leader, cutting the alien in half.

  The two featherless ones quickly followed suit, being picked off by Saberi, who was to Jackson’s right, and Crivello, who was to Jackson’s left.

  The fight had lasted barely more than a few minutes, yet in the moment, it felt to Jackson like he’d just run a marathon for hours. His heart was still beating at an agonizingly fast rate, even as the dust settled, and the street returned to eerie silence.

  Yet, he commanded his body to slow down again, breathing in heavily as he settled on his two legs, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

  Still… something was off. Something was nagging at the back of his head.

  As Jackson made his way down the street, eyeing the corpses of their enemies of any sign of movement, he couldn’t help but glance at the enforcer that’d been cut in half.

  With the body now less than three meters away, Jackson could even make out an interesting sight: a black viscous ooze coming from the joint in the middle where the alien had been cut in half.

  So, there they bled black… but not in the large egg-shaped ‘torso’.

  Something wasn’t adding up.

  Switching on comms, Jackson went back over to 533 and asked if everyone was still there.

  “All still present Corp. You good?”

  “I could use another hand down here… something’s not right with this.”

  After that, Jackson could see flashes coming from Crivello’s sniper nest, aimed at where Saberi probably was.

  The kid was in the building right behind Jackson, the corporal quickly spotting a familiar visor sticking out from one of the windows. A voice, carrying an Iranian accent with it, came through Jackson’s coms: “PFC Saberi. Give me a minute corporal.”

  With that, the private hopped from his position, climbing out of the window, hanging from it and letting gravity do the rest. A two-story drop. Impressive, so Jackson had to admit.

  Thusly, the PFC ran up to Jackson, the latter of which pointed at the alien at their feet.

  “I need you to cover me private. This shit stinks…”

  “Well, shit is known for stinking Corp. Seriously Jackson, what are you trying to do?” Crivello was evidently also listening in on the entire ordeal.

  “Doing my job, Sarge. We’re here for sabotage and recon. And I want to know more about these fucking things.”

  Coms went silent for a few seconds, as Jackson slowly approached the body. “Fuck it. Saberi, keep an eye on Jackson. corporal, I’m also having your other friend from the 1st get a move on. Should make his way over to us soon enough. Try to not get killed while you get acquainted with the local garbage, will you?”

  “Copy…”

  Jackson was now standing right above the body, eyeing it carefully.

  Seeing it up close like this and having seen one of the faceless men in comparison, it was now undoubtedly clear to Jackson that they shared common armour and characteristics. The grey and beige coloured shell, that at the same time seemed malleable – considering how it was wrapped around them like thick burlap – yet continued being remarkably resilient, as pieces of shrapnel sticking out of it could attest.

  The relatively lanky arms in comparison, seemed rather different. Looking at them up close, they reminded Jackson of muscles, the way indents in them seemed to flow down the limb, similar to the grooves in muscles, or sinew running down them.

  It looked downright… organic.

  Yet, that idea clashed with the way they moved. Even during his first encounter with them, the trooper remembered recognizing their unnatural gait for being almost mechanical.

  But on the other hand, the evidence of their organic nature was clear. They had muscles and those muscles bled when cut.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  At least, unless Jackson wanted to accept the fact that their enemy had found some way to produce bio-mechanical troops. The faceless men seemed to hint at it, at least. Their nightmarish combination of flesh and machinery certainly fit into that MO. But then why use other aliens at all?

  Though Jackson was somewhat lost in thought, he didn’t fail to notice the left hand of the alien twitching slightly.

  Not allowing himself to be taken by surprise again the trooper hopped back and raised his weapon at the leader. Only now, that his senses were fully alert again, did he also notice the bristling and shaking of the whiskers sticking out of its armour in places.

  Saberi was now on full alert too, the private quickly pointing his barrel down at what remained of their opponent.

  “Everything alright down there?”

  “Yeah… its alive… barely.”

  As Jackson was explaining, he could see the thing slowly turn towards the two humans, clawing its way towards them millimetre by millimetre.

  From his side, Jackson could see Saberi becoming a bit shifty, the private mumbling: “Hell, these things just don’t know when to quit…”

  “Easy now Saberi, its barely a threat to us.”

  Still, Jackson would’ve lied if he’d said it wasn’t unnerving just how tenacious their enemy was. Cut in half and bleeding, yet the alien didn’t try to get away from the two humans but was instead slowly dragging what was left of it over to them.

  Jackson motioned for Saberi to follow him, as the Skydiver stepped back onto the street, their dismembered enemy dutifully following them out from behind the bus and into plain view of open tarmac.

  “Well Jackson, what’s the verdict? You done with your little science experiment? Because I can see Raines twitching her trigger finger in anticipation of finishing this thing off.”

  “Almost… is Raines on coms?”

  “Hold one.”

  After a minute of quiet, that was only broken up by the gurgling and warbling from the alien still crawling towards them, Raines’ voice appeared on coms: “What’s up corporal?”

  Admittedly, the female Skydiver sounded only a little annoyed. Undoubtedly, she’d made the same conclusions about their invaders – and the little mercy they deserved - as Jackson had.

  He couldn’t blame Raines for being anxious to kill these things.

  “Just asking for a favour. You see that ridge going across its egg-shaped torso? The one that’s slanted downwards on its front?”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Raines gave an affirmative.

  “Try to aim above that. I’ve got an idea on what might be happening, but I don’t think I’ve got anything on me that can crack these things open.”

  “Sure… though you might wanna get your ass out of the line of fire then.”

  Doing just that, Jackson signalled for Saberi to follow him, the two troopers now completely moving away from the crawling alien.

  And then, rather unceremoniously, Raines’ anti-material rifle fired, the echo from its unsuppressed shot echoing through the streets, like manmade thunder.

  The alien hadn’t fared better than its brethren that’d been on the receiving end of a fifty.

  Though the proverbial ‘cracking of the can’ hadn’t been quite as clean as Jackson would’ve perhaps hoped for, the results still spoke for themselves. The top of the alien had been popped off its body, with the egg-shaped torso having been cut in two by the shot.

  Thusly, Jackson rounded on the fallen alien again, this time sure that it was dead. And even as the smoke from the impact cleared, his eyes already spotted that tangerine-coloured fluid again.

  Now, finding himself standing before Raines’ handiwork, Jackson finally had confirmation for his suspicions.

  A part of him had probably always known.

  But perhaps he’d hoped it’d be different? Standing there, letting his shoulders sag, Jackson simply took the sight in. Saberi made his way next to the corporal, looking down on the alien remains as well, exclaiming: “Holy shit…”

  There, in that egg shaped shell, was what looked like the overgrown lovechild of a jellyfish and an octopus, translucent and coloured in that similar orange and apricot colour as the fluids that surrounded it. Under its translucent skin, Jackson could spot a veritable network of nerves zig-zagging their way through the entire body… as well as a slight pulse. Similar to what he’d seen on that strange alloy.

  Still, with it being now outside of its membrane – comparable in sight to a foetus that’d been just freed from its placenta - the thing was quickly disintegrating in the open air and rain.

  What they’d seen of these leaders were merely shells. Piloted around by some shapeless mollusc sitting inside of it. It also explained why they seemed so organic, but also strangely mechanical. Wetware. Grown armour.

  Though it was far from Jackson’s own expertise to his layman’s eyes it seemed clear cut: Bio engineered combat suits.

  And again, he could feel some of his willpower get sapped away by it all. Just what in the hell were they fighting?

  Questions of why and how appeared, but the trooper knew it wouldn’t help. He might as well cry over spilled milk for all the difference it made. These things had decided that humanity needed to be subjugated, so here they were.

  But still, standing there in the rain, over the true form of their tormentor, for just a moment Jackson could feel his walls crack slightly.

  Was this really it? Man had dreamed of finding others amidst the stars for centuries now. Countless stories of achieving spaceflight and exploring the universe, meeting those other pioneers that had achieved the same.

  And yet, the reality that Jackson found himself in was one where first contact was immediately followed by bloody war.

  Even now, standing on the streets of New Poltava, his emotions were a mixture he couldn’t make sense of.

  He was angry at the invaders for their atrocities.

  And still, he was also crestfallen over the fact that this was what awaited them in the galaxy.

  It'd be so easy to just slip into hatred for these things, wouldn’t it? To simply see them as nonhuman freaks that deserved death. Jackson knew that he had definitely felt that way after Langstrom and seeing the faceless men. But was that who he truly was?

  “So? What’d you find?”

  Crivello’s voice pulled Jackson back into reality. He’d been on a mental downward spiral. Though many of those questions still lingered in his mind, he knew that it wouldn’t help now.

  He was a soldier out in the field. His was not to ask philosophical questions over if it was fair or not. His was the taking and fulfilling of orders.

  His job was killing the enemy.

  The corporal could only sigh. As much as their foe seemed to be full of surprises, it almost felt like he was becoming accustomed to this madness.

  Part of him wanted to sardonically chastise himself for being surprised. Of course, the alien invaders were alien in what they did.

  And still, seeing it with his own eyes, made it all the harder to accept that this was now their new norm.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’m taking some pictures and recording my Visor. Is the rendezvous point up in your sniper’s nest?”

  “Affirmative…”

  “Then hang on. We’ll be up there in five.”

  _ _ _

  The sniper’s nest was about what Jackson would’ve expected. Crivello and Raines had taken up shop in an abandoned apartment up on the sixth story. It gave them quite a good overview, not only over the street where just minutes earlier they had unleashed hell, but also over the mysterious complex down the road and the block of three skyscrapers behind it.

  Other than that, it was the usual affair: strewn about ammunition, ripped up remains of an MRE’s package and shell casings. The previous owners of the apartment had been long gone, with their furniture covered in dust and grime, as well as spoiled food that littered the kitchen area.

  Though, Crivello seemed pointedly unbothered by it all. Taking his helmet off, the sergeant revealed himself to be what one would suppose.

  Olive coloured skin that gave away his Mediterranean descent, short black hair that’d been slickened by sweat and a face that bore the invisible scars of prior campaigns.

  It was something Jackson could easily notice on any service member that had seen combat. Even if they didn’t have a literal scar strewn across their face, the way a person’s eyes moved, the way they took things in and even the marks of age, gave it all away. The corporal had seen his fair share of Skydivers with bags under their eyes.

  Not to mention his own.

  The other tells all lied in the body language. Paradoxically though, it wasn’t necessarily because of a nervous tick or anything. Those happened as well, but what Jackson had observed was the fact that often, a trooper that had seen combat seemed incredibly… calm.

  Serene, almost. Relaxed, even as they lounged around in a battlefield.

  Their bodies were ready, but their posture gave away the fact that inside… they didn’t care anymore.

  And Crivello bore all of those marks. Even if Jackson didn’t know the man or his service record directly, it was obvious that he’d served on Lumen. Then again, half the Skycorps had served there.

  And perhaps half of them had lost something there…

  Raines told much of a similar story; hazel coloured hair tied into a tight bun that allowed her to still wear her helmet.

  But of course, there was also something dark in those eyes. She likely knew what had happened to her teammates. It was to be expected of course.

  They all knew what they signed up for.

  And still, Jackson could see the burning glimmer behind Raines’ eyes.

  Of all the people currently present though, Saberi was most definitely the most interesting. The kid, his Mesopotamian descent clearly visible, was like a blank canvas that’d been just freshly painted over. Obviously, this had been his first deployment and potentially even first bout of combat.

  The private displayed what Jackson could’ve only described as apprehensive excitement. Fearful, yet mixed together with the rush of surviving combat, creating a cocktail that no drug in the universe could replicate.

  “First time?”

  “W-whah?” Jackson’s question had obviously ripped Saberi out of whatever he was spiralling towards, the private’s brown eyes refocusing on Jackson.

  “Was this the first time you saw combat?”

  The private seemed apprehensive about the question at first, perhaps a bit ashamed that he’d only now gotten his hands dirty.

  “Hey, everybody needs to pop their cherry one day. No need to be ashamed of it. So go ahead, answer the corporal’s question. This your first time?” Crivello’s words of encouragement, if perhaps not necessarily eloquently worded, had done the trick, pulling Saberi out of his proverbial shell.

  “Y-yeah… I signed up just after the Lumen crisis started. By the time I got through training and became a Skydiver, it was already over.”

  “Well, in that case -” Jackson deftly laid a hand on Saberi’s shoulder “- welcome to the Skycorps.”

  Finally, moods seemed to lift, as the kid light up with the realization that he’d now become part of those privileged few. A Skydiver… and one who’d met and killed the enemy.

  Jackson wasn’t much for all the talk of ‘glory’ and ‘honour’ that recruiters liked to spin, but he had to admit that there was an allure to being able to call oneself a ‘warrior’.

  Sure, in the long term those orbital-drop and combat ribbons wouldn’t mean much, but even Jackson had to admit that he’d felt quite a bit of pride in his chest when he’d received his after Lumen.

  Crivello gave the scene a knowing smile, returning to cleaning his rifle as he reclined against a dining table. Raines meanwhile was keeping herself busy repacking magazines.

  Saberi for his part looked a bit lost, perhaps not entirely sure what to do with himself.

  “Hey, Saberi? Take a load off. Like they taught you in basic. Go through your stuff, check your gear and so on.”

  Thankfully, Jackson’s reminder had done the trick, Saberi perhaps experiencing a slight eureka moment of his own as he realized that he could just fall back on his drills.

  It was all part of it, so Jackson had learnt. Those that would freeze up during combat were an issue of course, but so were those that froze up after the dust settled.

  It helped to keep mind and hand busy, even if that meant emptying one’s backpack and checking all the gear. Even if it was mindless fiddling and going through routines, it was better than spiralling.

  Looking back on it, it was almost funny.

  Back in basic, it had seemed like such a waste of time.

  Check your gear. Check it again.

  It wasn’t perfect? Go over it again and clean it to a polished sheen.

  Menial work that seemed like it was designed to bore the recruits to death. Yet, that tedium turned out to be what could help keep one’s mind clear after witnessing… well, whatever the universe had to offer that week.

  These thoughts on going over one’s own rig eventually led Jackson to eye the equipment of his fellow troopers.

  One of the few benefits of being a Skydiver, was the relative freedom they had when it came to configuration of their loadout.

  As long as it was within the weight limit and aside from a few mandatory factors – obvious ones, such as their helmets, body armour and the Skycorp poncho – the troopers had quite a bit of freedom as to how they carried themselves into battle.

  Some even decided to camouflage their coat. Raines for example had what looked to be some kind of old-school forest camo on hers.

  Crivello had foregone any kind of camouflage, keeping the standard sage green, though upon closer inspection Jackson noticed that the sergeant had his rank stitched into his coat.

  Jackson himself had gone for a rather standard affair, though tonight had certainly proven that it’d been a good idea to bring along the combat knife.

  Aside from that, the most notable features of his loadout were undoubtedly the few pieces of armour he carried over from Lumen, still carrying the scars of those battles, as well as a sticker on the thigh-armour on his right leg, displaying his blood type and other medical information.

  A little trick he’d learned from Sergeant Cassidy.

  At the end of the day though, Skydivers would usually look like a rather motley crew; something that gained them derision from the other ranks.

  Though the troopers all agreed, it was obviously just jealousy.

  Knifes, pouches, extra armour if the weight allowed it, everything was available to a droptrooper. The real standardization lied in their kit and the essentials. Most importantly of all, was undoubtedly their helmet and its visor. It’s what differentiated a Skydiver from the grunts in the army or the marines. Even from other elites like Strike Recon or the Rangers.

  Jackson looked down at his own helmet, still bearing the marks of today’s combat… as well as a few subtle ones it had carried over from Lumen. The HUD was standard affair for SCN infantry – featuring target identification and tactical input by the helmet’s built-in AI - but the unseen functions were the real difference makers: full functionality for both night-vision, thermals and infrared, with the option to freely switch between the three modes without having to change lenses, while still allowing for assessment by the system’s AI.

  If a trooper was linked up with a watcher-swarm, or had received data from someone that had been, they could even use the 3D generated map to apply markers and track them in real time through AR space. Even real-time updates on squad status – if they were in range and linked up that is – were included, with not just vitals, but even a tactical assessment on what each trooper in a team was doing.

  It was the same package as the Marines or Army, but with some fancier functions.

  The only ones that had toys more impressive than the Skycorps were special forces. Though it was hard to compete with Sierra on anything. Toys, training, glamour and appearances in media. They had the rest of the SCN and SCAF beat in all of those aspects.

  At the end though, much of this technology bled into the background as soldiers on the field accepted these inputs as second nature, as another sense, like smell and sight.

  It wasn’t something to think about, it was something to use.

  In regard to the helmets, if a Skydiver so desired, they could even turn on a function that would automatically darken the visor in response to bright light. Useful, but the system had a few quirks that still needed to be fixed. Jackson’s own experience with it back on Lumen had left him rather wanting, the visor either darkening too much or not enough.

  At least the actual material it was made out of prevented flashbangs from being an issue.

  Hermetic sealing too, so that the troopers were secure from any airborne afflictions. Technically speaking, the helmet was even rated for the rigours of space.

  Though the rest of their kit would need modification, a Skycorp helmet was out-of-the-box ready for EVA.

  It'd been drilled into them time and time again, and for good reason too. There were two things on the field that would keep them alive: Their training and their helmets.

  After this quiet moment, the relative peace of the nest was broken up by a loud creaking, followed by footsteps coming in from behind the door.

  “Must be your guy, that German fellow.” Crivello observed.

  “Why is it that no one from the 1st seems to have a single subtle bone in their body? Dickhead over there wanders the streets like a lost puppy -” Raines pointed at Jackson “- and now this other dumbass thinks he should alert the entire city that our sniper’s nest is here.” The female trooper concluded, shaking her head and returning to packing her mags.

  Jackson for his part could only let out a small whistle and smirk. A sharp tongue on that one, for sure.

  He didn’t mind though. Same with Crivello’s jabs, the inter-service rivalry of the Skycorps was, at the end of the day, a friendly affair.

  Plus, why should he tarnish himself by partaking in something like that, when his superiority was already confirmed by being in the 1st regiment?

  Crivello immediately seemed to pick up on Jackson’s thought process, wagging his finger as he warned: “I know that look corporal. Signature look of smug superiority from the ‘wingless demons’. One of you clowns ought to write a book about how you conned the SCN into believing you were the ‘best of the best’.”

  Crivello had purposefully spoken the words ‘best of the best’ in a rather exaggerated and mocking tone, even making quotation marks with his fingers.

  “Why con them when it’s the truth?” Jackson spread his arms a bit, in a clear gesture of showmanship.

  “Ha… ha… ha… very funny.”

  At the end of the day, that was what the whole rivalry between the 1st and 2nd regiment was all about. It gave them an excuse to vent some steam and lift the mood with some sharp wit.

  It also certainly helped to make sure that everybody remained grounded – only slightly ironic for an orbital droptrooper.

  Some of the fresh meat could get lost in their own ego when it first hit that they were now a Skydiver, so taking them down a notch always helped.

  But, alas, Heermann finally managed to stumble his way into the sniper’s nest, only accruing himself one death-glare from Raines in the process.

  The trooper immediately removed his helmet, exposing his pale skin and bleached hair to the stale air of the apartment. And not a moment later, the sage-coloured eyes of Fred lit up as he looked over at Jackson.

  “Patrick… you really are alive. I didn’t believe it at first.” He then proceeded to mumble something in his native German.

  Though he didn’t know when it would arrive, Jackson knew that Heermann would rue the day when their translators finally included that misbegotten language.

  “In English, Fred.”

  Heermann looked up from his mumbling, turning to Jackson, before putting on a toothy smile and declaring: “Well, I am happy to see you too, Pat!”

  “Uh huh… sounded to me more like you had a bet going that I’d bite it or something.”

  “Why I’d never!”

  Heermann then proceeded to give Jackson the puppy eyes. Of course, how could that maniac ever do something like that, right?

  At the very least Fred was always good at breaking the monotony. Jackson didn’t know if his eccentricities came from his German heritage, the fact that he’d grown up on Gaia or some kind of defect. Of course, he’d never get a straight answer on it.

  Yet, despite his teammate’s goofy antics, the mood turned serious immediately when Heermann asked about the FNG.

  “He didn’t make it. Kid got cornered by an enemy patrol and… well… it’s probably better if I show you. All of you.” That last part had piqued the interest of everyone else inside the nest.

  Crivello’s face especially turned rather gloomy, as he sighed: “Yeah… you mentioned something about that. Ey Saberi, since you’re already going through your backpack, fetch me a battery and your flashlight. Know an easy to set up an impromptu projector. And I suspect Jackson’s here got a good reason why he wants us to see this…”

  _ _ _

  And thus, the team all bore witness to what Jackson had recorded over the last two fateful hours on Odessa. The first item on the list had been the growth he’d spotted on one of the buildings.

  He hadn’t paid it much mind since then, but his eyes had picked it up on a couple more structures that he’d passed through the night. Not to mention that strange outpost up ahead, which was made of the same darkened alloy and basalt-pillar like formations.

  The rest of the team commented that they’d made similar discoveries.

  After that, came Langstrom’s fate.

  This had an entirely different reaction on the team.

  Saberi looked horrified.

  Crivello’s and Raines’ expressions darkened even further.

  And Heermann was… hard to gauge. The colonial German was usually too stoic to properly read. Aside from his occasional antics, he kept himself pretty stone-faced. But here, seeing what had happened to Langstrom, Fred looked almost… sorrowful?

  It couldn’t have been because the kid meant something to him. As harsh as it was, any veteran Skydiver knew not to get too attached to rookies until they survived one or two engagements.

  Maybe Heermann had made a similar bet about Langstrom’s fate as he had about Jackson.

  And now, seeing the gruesome fate that’d befallen the poor kid, put said bet into perspective.

  As the shot that had ended Langstrom’s life reverberated through the video, Jackson paused the recording, letting out a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to hear those screams anymore. At least… not for now.

  “Yeah… I don’t know how many others have seen something like this, but one of the first things we’ll have to do once we get proper contact with Crossroads is to let them know. And by extension, let everyone else know that surrender is not an option.”

  Crivello nodded in agreement. Raines didn’t seem like she had anything to add. Saberi hardened his expression a bit. And Heermann stayed quiet.

  “Sadly, the next item on the list is probably not going to lift the air either…” That was about all Jackson could offer in preparation to the truth behind the ‘faceless men’.

  He quickly asked if any of the team had stumbled upon them, with everyone but Saberi giving a negative. Upon inquiring on what the private had seen, he only had this to say: “Just spotted a group of them out in the storm. At first, I thought it was our guys, but the way they moved… it didn’t make sense. I watched them for a minute or two and concluded that something was seriously wrong. So… I disengaged and ran the other way.”

  “Smart… but do keep in mind private what Jackson had said earlier: we’re here for sabotage and recon. You can’t learn more about the enemy if you just run away.”

  Saberi for his part didn’t move to disagree with Crivello, simply nodding as he turned his gaze downwards, perhaps thinking through the implications of it.

  Sure, putting one’s life on the line for intel wasn’t easy.

  But if they didn’t do it, who would?

  “So, corporal… considering how pale your skin turned when you saw the beginning of that footage, I’m going to assume it’s not pretty?”

  Jackson for his part simply shook his head at Crivello’s question, quietly adding: “It really isn’t.”

  With that, Jackson unceremoniously started the recording, which, after showing the body of the faceless man, soon turned to Jackson removing its mask and showing what was beneath it.

  Once again, the reactions of his fellow droptroopers spoke more than a thousand words.

  Raines’ expression was one of anger and disturbance, incredulous at what sort of brutality their enemy had dared to engage in. What sort of sentient being would be capable of that?

  Saberi’s was shocked, sprinkled with some fear, perhaps knowing how close he’d gotten to these things.

  Heermann tried his best to stay stoic, but the slight twitching of his cheeks and eyebrows betrayed how much it affected him, his eyes darting across the screen.

  And Crivello in many ways mirrored what Jackson’s face must’ve looked like when he’d discovered the truth: burning hatred for the enemy, for the pain they’d inflicted upon innocents.

  Though, much like Jackson, the sergeant got it back under control, wiping his face and blinking a few times as he tried to regain his composure.

  “T-that’s enough Jackson. Christ almighty…”

  The mood had thoroughly soured, the troopers all looking down at the ground or out of the windows, perhaps searching somewhere for some kind of answer.

  Crivello was the first to speak up: “These soulless fuckers have gone too far. They need to pay. They are going to pay.” His words carried weight, even if he couldn’t do much right now to back them up.

  Jackson added: “I believe the other aliens besides the ‘leaders’ could be in a similar predicament. Their armour certainly seems to match. And my gut instinct tells me that the sort of thing that would do this to humans, wouldn’t just stop at that.”

  “Maybe, but you’ll understand if my pity-well for Xenos is all but bottomed out Jackson.” The sergeant’s tone of voice carried a very cold inflection with it.

  Crivello continued, voice decidedly poisonous: “What’s most important is that this alien scum is butchering people indiscriminately. And that it needs to stop. So, we focus on the mission! We focus on our job! Is that right troopers?!”

  Perhaps having sensed that the weight of this revelation was threatening to have the Skydivers buckle under it, Crivello had now shifted to riling them up.

  And, as was to be expected, the ragtag team of soldiers all answered in an enthusiastic, if slightly strained, ‘ooh-rah!’.

  Comparatively, the last item on the list seemed almost trivial. At least, when one experienced them back-to-back like this. Jackson himself still didn’t know how he should handle the information.

  Maybe in the coming days his answer would come to him?

  Even so, the team was attentive when it came to seeing the proverbial face of their enemy.

  Raines, perhaps, put it best: “Fucking squiddies in suits…”

  Crivello for his part got up, stood in front of the projection and pointed at the paused recording, declaring: “That right there is the enemy! I don’t fucking care what we do, or how we do it, but we are going to kill these things! I for one am going to make sure that Lumen looks like a bad joke compared to what’s in store for these assholes…”

  The sergeant’s voice carried a sea of venom in it, just the timbre of his tone alone being enough to tell how hot the fire in his chest was burning.

  Did a man need any more reason to legitimately want to destroy their enemy?