Before I begin, I want to say thanks to kira-red for her advice regarding my story, it helped me out a lot  

I've written a lot in my free time, and have actually been sitting on this story for almost 2 months now and decided to post it finally  Anyway, I'll be posting it up in installments over the next few weeks so enjoy  



My finger squeezed the trigger of the Improved DOA Strikehammer so fast that it became numb and the sound produced from the mussel fire seemed like it was continuous. There were just too many of them. As I finished off the first group of drones, the Fi/Ra/Co on my weapon glowed a bright red. It was overheating. I threw off the Dante, singeing my armor gloves a little, and then continued firing. I tried to dodge the blasts from the warrior and trooper drones, but as soon as a group of second entities appeared, I knew my fate. 

I felt a large burst of energy on the front of my harness, then a little warmth. I glanced down to see the top layer of my Eon armor melted, exposing the plating underneath. I received two shots and felt the right side of my helmet disintegrate. We had failed. At least they can say I went out like a soldier... I saw a warrior twist his cannon a little to the left, as they do right before they shoot, and then… 

I woke up in a cold sweat. I tried to piece together what I had just dreamed about, but the hum of the ship filled my mind instead and I had forgotten what it was before I regained full consciousness. This bothered me for a few seconds until I realized there was someone in the doorway to my quarters. 

“Colonel, we are approaching the planet now, pilot says we’ll touch down in around thirty minutes. I think we should begin preparing.” I thought about this for a second. 

“Yes I agree. Assemble our unit and have them meet in the armory and next time Lieutenant, knock. I could’ve been pissing or something.” 

“Sorry sir, but the door wa-” I glared at him. 

“Yes sir, right away.” He exited the doorway and the door slid shut behind him. The door probably was open anyway. Lately I’ve seemed to have problems with sleep walking. I sat on my bed for a few moments, getting prepared for what I had to do next. I got up and did the most degrading thing I’ve ever done. I dressed myself in something commonly referred to as “the prison uniform,” as it resembles a maximum security prison uniform. The bright orange was donned some time ago by the prison system in order to make its wearer clearly visible and an easier target for plasma annihilator I’m sure. This bright orange jump suit was to provide me with enough cover to roam the planet inconspicuously. I found it utterly disgusting not because it resembles a prison uniform, but because it also resembles the uniform given to Martians in the work camps on Mars and to even be thought of as a Martian by anyone would probably make me execute them under normal circumstances. I would later stand in the shower for a number of hours scrubbing my skin until it was a bright red. 

After donning this suit, I put my Tac-Ops communications link around my wrist then fiddled with my dog tags a little before putting them around my neck. Col. Rico “The Harbinger” Pabon, they read. I was now ready to go. I walked out of my quarters and down the hall of the ship to the teleporter and stated my destination. I saw a bright light for a second then was standing in front of a door marked “ARMORY – Restricted Access” 

“Please state your name.” The female voice from the door said as I touched the door knob. 

“The Harbinger.” I responded. 

“Voice match confirmed, welcome Colonel. You are cleared for all weapons systems available.” The voice replied as I heard the large bolt lock mechanically click from the inside. 

Outstanding, I thought. The door swung open to reveal I walked into a large room with four rectangular tables and rows and rows of shelves further back filled with weapons. Sitting at one of the tables was my seven man (and woman) team. Judging from the looks on their faces, they were enjoying the orange jump suits just as much as I was. Their various conversations seized as I entered and all attention was turned to me. 

“Okay everyone you know the drill, suit up.” I said. They all got up and went to their favorite rows to collect their desired weapons. I hadn’t gotten my self-owned weapons from my storage box in the corner as the rest of them had, so I walked over to retrieve my Improved DOA Strikehammer and Modified EP-40 Mercenary as they weren’t allowed anywhere else on the ship. 

The strikehammer had been a gift from Roman Ram himself. Years after we served together in the first interplanetary war, we still kept in touch and I recently aided him in executing a theft who had stolen a prototype of his new project. Though the weapon was never recovered, I succeeded in convincing him that it was in my words, “a piece of crap” anyway, and he let it go to move onto bigger and better things. I had later gotten word that a hunter on Calypso had retrieved it but quickly sold it on the black market. I kept this information secret as it would’ve only resulted in a large amount of deaths. 

The Mod Merc as it was called, was presented to me by the Emperor after a successful assault on a force of robots carried out solely by me; everyone else in that unit had abandoned myself and the mission. He told me he saw great potential in me and wanted me to have it as he believed it would be much more useful to me than to him. I believe this is what prompted my becoming the leader of this unit, the elite shock division known as the “Crimson Devils,” and hand picking my troops. We are the last resort, the “problem solvers” as the Emperor calls us. This seems like forever ago now. 

I grabbed the strap on the storage box and set it on one of the tables. I would use this one to carry my weapons load out and another to hold my armor. Besides the standard Marber Tango and DOA Foerippers, we each had equipment assigned to us based on our different talents and skills. I myself operated pistols at close range which made the Mod Merc ideal for me. I also used a Meckel and Loch ML-35 as it was the rifle I became accustomed to in the interplanetary war. Nowadays, I catch hell for using such a ‘primitive’ weapon; until I’m seen in action with it. 
I walked by the members of my team as they were selecting weapons to the armor rack. Nothing but the best, they had told us. I stared at six full sets of Eon armor framed by six matching sets of modified armor plates mark 6A manufactured by none other than Auktuma himself. 

Even though he made his home on calypso, he most certainly could not be referred to as a Calypsian. I had met him once and never understood his love for these people. He claimed he had decided to take make the journey to Calypso in order to help out these people in eradicating the robot threat; had he succeeded, my team would not be here now. I had come to believe Auktuma had made this move in order to bolster the prices for his manufactured goods as they’d now have to be imported to the Imperial Empire. In any case, the Empire allowed him to continue his armor experiments using the aliens dubbed ‘Aurli’ and ‘Kretlin’ by building the Crystal Space Station. The aliens aided in his research and allowed him to produce a new reinforced plate standard. Whether he made the move to Calypso for greed or compassion, he was still one hell of a crafter. 

We finished loading our storage boxes, sealed them, and then lugged our eighty kilograms of equipment to the teleporter which we used to enter the docking bay. Carrying this amount of equipment was standard and we were well used to it by now. We had all done extensive strength training using melee weapons in the past which had made us significantly stronger and agile than the average soldier. 

“Hold onto something,” my Lieutenant said. We instinctively held onto the horizontal metal rod that was designed for this purpose, and made a perfect five point landing. We walked around the docking bay getting used to the shift in gravity as the ship’s shock absorbers adjusted, then the door opened and fresh light poured in followed by a stench…the stench of Calypso. We’re here.