Scraped from
here.
The last thing you remember? That's easy. You, Colonel Steele, UEF commander, stepping into the quantum rift on Earth with a great big bomb 'liberated' from the Seraphim strapped to your ACU's back. The Aeon princess was right – the rift had to be closed. She was definitely right about that. But you and her had a disagreement over who exactly had to do the closing. It being a very one way trip and all.
The calculus was simple. The Aeon Illuminate's foremost political leader, a pacifist who could maybe convince the Aeon to not go on another murderlicious rampage after everyone was battered from the aliens' assault, or you, just another UEF commander? You, the one who's ultimately responsible for the aliens' invasion in the first place, for the purge of Earth? Even if General Hall's coverup of that little tidbit didn't blow wide open after the war, it's a pretty simple concept. Your fault. Your responsibility to fix. Earth is a dead world because of you. You fired the Black Sun superweapon. You opened rift those monsters used to come through. Even if you didn't mean to, it all comes back to one push of a button, with your finger doing the pushing.
So when Dr. Gustav Brackman, bless his disembodied cybernetic genius brain, told you that a sufficiently powerful quantum explosive detonated on the other side of the rift would close it, you leaped at the opportunity. You went through the rift and set those aliens up their own bomb. It was to be your heroic sacrifice, like all the old stories.
You were never supposed to survive.
You don't even know how. Because none of that, none of your memories explain how you got here. Wherever here is. Your ACU's critically damaged; armor integrity's down to 40% and her left leg actuator is trashed. The ACU's autorepair systems are already working on the damage. An easy fix for an ACU, she'll be like new before your base is even finished building.
But for what it was supposed to be, it's damn good. Her last action reports show successful release and detonation of the Seraphim experimental supernuke you'd pilfered. A 98.21% chance that the rift would be permanently destabilized. And a flat 100% chance that you'd be utterly destroyed in every way it's possible to be destroyed. And a few that defy human understanding. Because being at ground zero of a strategic nuke, much less an ungodly huge Seraphim uberbomb taken from an experimental launch site that uses strange and malicious physics in ways not even the Aeon really understand is a one way ticket to hell.
Given how close you were to the detonation point, you should be so much free-floating energy. ACUs are tough, but not that tough.
But then, discontinuity. Bam. Press the button, not die with no suitable explanation for what happened in between.
Your head hurts too; your vision swims in front of you, and you feel the urge to retch. Traveling via quantum gate leaves everyone a little nauseous, especially to destinations without a gate on the receiving end to buffer the transport, but you've never felt it like this before.
"Wake up, Commander." Your ACU's computer helpfully repeats. You get the impression she's been saying that for quite some time, going by your parched throat and general grogginess.
"Blue?" You ask. You have to remind yourself that she's not intelligent. Given how much trouble QAI got up to when it decided the Seraphim were gods, nobody sane would allow it. Still it helps you to humanize your unit, keeps your morale up just a little bit even if she's physically incapable of responding in real intelligent manner. Nothing but canned responses and some very clever scripting. And some heavy duty hardware shackles, just in case. "How long have I been out? Scratch that, how are we alive?"
"Unknown," Blue's monotone voice replies. "I have no suitable explanation."
You shake your head.
"The bomb. Did the bomb go off?" Desperation clouds your voice. "Did the rift close? Did it work?"
"Last records indicate the bomb was successfully deployed. Probability dictates that the rift is closed," Blue replies. "This unit is currently in an unknown location. Would you like me to activate passive and omnisensors?"
You rub your temples, trying to bash through your confusion and headache with sheer will. "Do it."
"Activating sensors. Omnisensor online. Environmental factors within human physiological preferences. Atmospheric salt content indicates we are near to a large body of salt water. Two midrange mass deposits detected nearby. Alert. Unknown light assault bots detected within twenty kilometers. Configuration unknown. No quantum IFF detected. Possibility of Seraphim ownership: Four percent."
"No IFF?" You blink. Even backwater colonies with homegrown militias use Q-IFF to coordinate and almost eliminate friendly fire. Still, at least they weren't Seraphim. You've seen enough goddamn aliens to last a lifetime. "What are they doing?"
"They are approaching at flank speed."
"Recon elements then, probably here to confirm our location for heavier forces," You shake your head again, still trying to clear it. "Give me a visual."
The holomap, the throbbing nerve-center of every commander's strategic operations, lights up. It flickers for a few moments, the colors inverting and reverting before it all settles down and shows you the feed from Blue's head-mounted cameras. Suitably magnified. They're still kilometers off; the fine details are fuzzy, but you've got enough to get some idea of what they are.
You also see that you're on either an island or a peninsula, and that these LABs are approaching you from the other end of it.
There's seven of them. Each one's colored blue and white, and despite yourself, you feel a little more at ease because of it. At first glance you'd almost think they're flying UEF colors just like you are, but you're utterly familiar with UEF military equipment and you're certain there's no weapons like that in your arsenal. These look far more humanoid than the hulking, boxy mech marines that you field in the light assault bot role. They're almost deceptively slender compared to what you're used to, though they've got just the right amount of boxiness in the form of armor plate to make them feel familiar. They also have actual hands rather than dual autocannon.
And that's doubly strange. While hands are certainly technologically feasible, the only 'bots with hands you've seen are search and rescue models. Perhaps these are converted civilian variants? Certainly it would fit with the notion of a backwater milita scrounging for resources.
"...Configuration unknown is right." You mutter. "Never seen a design like that. Doesn't look alien, but it's not one of ours either. It's got just the right amount of blue though."
"I am detecting low energy levels, consistent with LAB power sources. They are unlikely to carry sufficient firepower to breach my hull armor even in its damaged state," Blue adds. "No evidence of quantum communications technology detected."
"Right," You nod. "Well. First order of business-"
"Alert. I am also detecting a single squad-size formation of light infantry within one kilometer. They are on a ridge overlooking our position."
"Focus the image on them," You watch the image switch. "Enhance. Magnify."
Blue does so, the image resolving into clarity.
"They're just kids," You mutter. The soldiers in question appear somewhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty two, though one oddity is that there's only two boys; the rest are girls. They appear to be mostly unarmed, only one of them has a rifle; your unit's omni-sensors aren't picking up any radiological or electromagnetic signatures consistent with anti-ACU weapons either. No tac nukes or anything big. They aren't wearing any appreciable armor, just cloth uniforms – sleeveless tops and camouflaged leggings suited for tropical operations.
They're also looking down at your unit with no small amount of nervous awe, and some of them glance towards where the LABs are coming from, reminding you of twitchy rabbits.
One of them is speaking into a large box-like communicator, though, while another, a particularly small girl with oddly styled hair has a large rifle, probably a long range marksman model going by the optics, trained on your unit. Though from the way she's trembling, you suspect she knows as well as you do that her gun won't even scratch the paint.
They're probably the ones who found you and are calling in reinforcements.
You tap your chin. No quantum comms, but they're clearly talking somehow. "Blue, scan the electromagnetic spectrum for signals."
"Signals detected. Breaking encryption. Decoding. Analyzing. The language they are using is an eighty percent match for ancient Japanese, circa late twentieth century. I can upload a language package to your command chip. Accuracy is not guaranteed."
You blink. A dead language? Sometimes colonies got isolated, but the late twentieth century was well before even Mankind's first diaspora. If these people really had been isolated from the galaxy at large even as it burned around them, you'd still think the language would've diverged much further than that.
This whole situation makes no sense to you. You've got a man that shouldn't be alive listening to a language that shouldn't exist watching LABs without q-comms on approach. "Do it. And give me a feed of what they're saying."
"Would you like me to selectively jam their signals?" Blue asks.
You shake your head. "Not quite yet. Let's hear what they say when they think nobody's listening first."
"Affirmative. Replaying recorded transmissions."
A tinny but distinctly young and female voice bounces around your command cabin. "-Instructor, this is cadet leader Sakaki, we think the thing just moved."
A more mature and womanly voice calls out from the other end. "Are you sure? We didn't see anything on our end."
"Tamase's looking at it through a scope right now. She's sure she saw something moving in the head. She says-"
You hear muffled words, ones too low to make out. The girl talking to her comrade, perhaps? "-She says it feels like we're being watched. Could you tell those reinforcements to hurry up? We'd all feel a lot better with some TSFs to keep an eye on this thing."
TSFs? Is that what they're calling the bots? Rather sterile; even a hardass military like the UEF had fun naming their war machines. Then again, maybe it's just a role designation like LABs. And new fish probably don't know the slang anyway. It's odd though, you think they'd know your ACU for what it is given how many thousands of years the technology's been in use. But they almost seem confused. Surely they'd know of ACUs even if they're so backwater that they've never seen one.
Though you're still not sure how that's possible. The infinite war wasn't kind on groups who thought they could hide from one of the big three factions. And then after that, the Seraphim were too good at ferreting out human colonies to burn.
Mysteries aside, you figure the incoming light bots are the reinforcements these cadets are waiting for.
Of course, that still leaves you with a conundrum. What are you going to do about it? These people could be hostile, or they could be friendly.
Three options occur to you immediately:
The first is to build a base. ACUs are incredibly powerful war machines in their own right, but their true strength is their ability to construct a self-sustaining base and assault force within minutes of deployment. It might spook the strangers, but right now you're in the black ten; the ten minutes after deployment when an ACU is at its most vulnerable to attack. Once you've got yourself set up, you'll be able to approach these strangers from a position of strength and to give them your full attention.
Alternatively, though it goes against your instincts as a commander, you can forego building a base at the moment and instead focus on opening communications with these strange people. It's a gamble, but it's probably less likely to provoke a hostile response. On the other hand, if they are hostile, or if there's another hostile force nearby, losing time on diplomacy might be the difference between survival and your ACU cooking off like a hundred megaton thermonuke.
Another option occurs to you; you can play possum; nobody's going to take jittery cadets seriously you hope, so they probably won't realize your ACU's active unless you do something or send out more active scans. You can continue to eavesdrop on their communications and generally see what they do when they think you're still disabled. Your weapons are fully functional; you can destroy them at any time, assuming Blue's analysis is accurate. As with talking, though, you're losing time you could be spending building.
So with that in mind, you elect to:
[]Build a base first, talk later.
-Pro: Less time spent vulnerable. Con: Unpredictable natives.
[]Attempt communications first, build later.
-Pro: Potentially open dialog with the natives. Con: More time spent vulnerable.
[]Play Possum, see what these people do.
-Pros: More opportunities to examine the natives without them being aware. More time to figure out what the hell's going on here. Con: More time spent vulnerable.
[]Something else entirely [write in]
-Pro: SB's plans can be very good. Con: SB's plans can be very bad.
Also, you have the opportunity to customize your character before the game begins in earnest. Choose wisely, commander, as these options may shape your character just as much as the actions you take in the future.
What is your first name?
[]Roland
[]Michael
[]William
[]Write in (Subject to GM approval.)
What is your quest?
[]Kill all aliens.
[]Save Earth.
[]Protect Mankind.
When you stepped into the rift and detonated that bomb, what did you feel?
[]Tired.
[]Scared.
[]Regretful.
[]Relieved.
[]All of the above.
In the Infinite War and the Seraphim War that followed, you were most known for:
[]Your
compassion.
[]Your
will.
[]Your
friends.
[]Your
hate.
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