Part 2: Acquisition Team Nine

One Week Earlier

        A sleek human, now calling themselves terrans, transport swiftly approached the vast assortment of satellite weapon platforms and defense stations that made up the outer defense grid surrounding the planet Eur. The ship’s overall appearance gave it an aggressive look with sharp angles and the craft’s nose narrowing to a sharp nose from the top the hull’s overall shape was like the blade of a broadsword’s blade with the view from the front slowly growing out adding height to the craft with the front being slimmer than the aft. The stealth vessel would remain unseen to the defense grid’s sensors until its pilot transmitted a request to enter the grid’s space.

        "BLADE 765, requesting entry into Eur's orbital defense grid with intentions to land at SyCorp Industries facility 27X," announced the pilot of the Succubus class transport. The craft followed SyCorp’s standard naming convention of using demonic beings from human legend as sources for ship class names. This Succubus was the devoted transport for one of SyCorp’s elite acquisition teams, a Special Forces group that the powerful corporation used to steal or recover technology and information.

        "BLADE 765, you have permission to enter, follow entry corridor seven Oscar Zulu until past atmosphere then proceed direct to destination and descend to 25,000 until directed to begin approach," replied the droning tired voice of the airspace manager.

        "Seven Oscar Zulu to Atmo, direct to destination, 25,000," replied the female pilot in a rapid energetic tone as the craft’s rectangular engines attached to blade like wings increased thrust to send the craft forward at a greater velocity. The ship navigated toward the entry point of the appointed corridor that instantly appeared as various green waypoints that looked like triangles on the ship’s heads up display (HUD). Setting the auto pilot to follow the assigned waypoints, the pilot sat back and monitored the flight systems for a second before looking up over her left shoulder at another woman who had been standing behind the pilot’s chair quietly as the pilot talked to the airspace manager. The tan skinned brown haired woman stood just over 1.9 meters tall, and was bulging with muscles. The amazon of a woman was HS-1342-9124, the team’s heavy weapon expert. The pilot and heavily weapons expert had formed a quick bond, and tended to keep each other company. The dark skinned pilot’s dark brown eyes looked over the other woman’s scared face that was facing the increasingly impressive view of the planet they were approaching, before saying, “I can see why the UTR is considering making this world our new capital.”

       The brunette muscular woman looked down at the sixteen year old black hair, brown skinned pilot, LK-1132-0082, and said in a warm voice, “Yes blue and green, and filled with life. It almost looks like the pictures of Terra. There appears to be a closer land to water ratio on this world and the land formations look vastly different. However it has that familiar beauty found on the pictures of Terra.”

        Looking back at the planet the thin pilot added, “Perhaps after we help liberate Terra, we will be allowed to live here since all the terrans will want to live on Terra. This world could be our reward for stomping the Ascendancy into the ground.” Her voice was filled with optimism as she smiled at the thought of having a home on this world.

        “We are clone warriors and we live only to fight. The war with the Ascendancy will continue long after Terra is freed,” added a monotone voice that showed no hints of emotion. The voice’s owner was a man sitting in a chair off in the back right corner of the small cockpit. This seat usually belonged to the Succubus’ weapon’s officer, but for the entirety of this trip the man had sat silently in that chair staring at his personal data device (PDD). He was the squad’s second in command, CY-0627-4423. The stormy grey eyes of the man added to his reputation as an unemotional and uninteresting individual. He shared some common features like hair color, height, and the slightly wide cheek bones with 9124 indicating the two likely came from the same DNA lot. However the woman’s other facial features were more rounded than 4423’s more rectangular face, and her eyes were a hazel green to his grey. Small variations like this were not too uncommon between members of the same DNA lot.

         Both women looked over at the man as he continued to stare at personal data device that lit up his firm jaw and unemotional rugged face that with a light green hue. The pilot was the first to address the man, her voice a little less energetic than before, “Clones who have performed well are rewarded. Freeing Terra, their home world, should result in a great reward for the survivors such as a planet on which they could retire and call home.”

         The muscular red head listened to the pilot’s words before nodding while adding her own thoughts, “We will be the heroes who kicked the Ascendancy’s ass. Terrans love having heroes to glorify and shower with awards and praise.”

         The man looked up with a blank look on his face. He stared at each woman in turn before giving them a short speech. His voice was dull and matter of fact as he spoke, “We are tools of the terrans. That is why we have serial numbers instead of names. Tools, like this ship, are never rewarded for doing a good job; they are used until they are broken. The promises of rewards for clones are empty lies made to prevent us from giving into despair. If we liberate Terra we will not suddenly be granted peace or glory. The terrans commanding us will receive the honors, not us. Instead we will just be sent off to next war zone. We have no other purpose but to serve terrans until our end.”

         “Bullshit, Ryan or AI-232-1113, and his team was granted full citizenship and even given terran rank and privileges for their actions on Haxyon 3,” snapped the pilot in a defiant voice as she glared daggers at her superior. She was not going to give up her dream.

         “They continued to serve as warriors until they died in combat. Nothing changed for them other than the addition of meaningless titles to give them the sense of being rewarded,” replied the monotone voiced man as he resumed his reading. This clearly angered the pilot and she clenched her jaw as she turned her gaze to outside the ship. The man was trying to crush her dreams, but she would not let him.

         “Remember he is one of the wiped. He is a little messed up in the head. Do not let his pessimistic views get to you. I am sure when we drive the Ascendancy from Terra. The terrans will hail us as heroes and reward us accordingly,” replied the heavy weapons expert with confidence as she looked down at the pilot. The man didn’t reply to this, he had said his opinion and he was not going to continue the debate. Shaking her head at the angry pilot, the older woman looked out the window as the armed transport navigated a maze of defense satellites and construction ships. Shifting her weight onto the back of the pilot’s head rest to the point of almost leaning on it, the brown haired woman asked in a calm tone of voice, “I wonder why SyCorp called us here?”

         “We will find out soon enough,” muttered the pilot’s suppressed voice as she pressed a button on her control stick as the ship took a turn to angle itself for atmosphere penetration. “Attention, we are about to begin entry into Eur’s atmosphere. I recommend taking your seats and buckling in,” snapped the pilot, her voice still showing her anger as she spoke into her headset’s microphone. 4423 checked his seatbelt, while the tall redhead took a hold of the pilot’s seat with one hand, and the side of the cockpit’s frame with the other to brace herself.

          An armored cover slid over the windscreen of the transport, making the cockpit dark other than a few lit up instruments for a second. A slight glow began to intensify lighting up the cockpit as the ship began to shake violently. The shaking was a sign the transport had begun the process of forcing its way through the planet’s atmosphere. The planet’s resistance to the intruding craft would only last a few seconds, and the trembling soon stopped. Once past the natural barrier, the armor plates protecting the windscreen retracted allowing the pilot to see outside. There was still smoke dispersing around the ship and sections of the transport’s energy shielding were flickering as they recovered from the heat and resistance caused by the atmospheric entry.

        Looking out the window after descending for a couple of minutes, the pilot continued the ship’s descent while straining to get a look of the dark forests below. Her view was hindered by the darkness of night, but breaking the void of night were several mysterious blue glowing lights that dotted the vast forest like stars in a clear night sky. The strange lights began to melt the pilot’s anger as she stared at them with a curious gaze. The few other terran controlled worlds were ugly in comparison. Wastelands that required vast self-contained human cities that looked like vast metal bunkers from the outside for humans to live on the surface. The outside worlds were lethal to any that tried to wander them without proper protection. This world in comparison looked both beautiful and welcoming. If she was ever able to make a home for herself this would be the place to build it.

         Suddenly the negative thoughts returned as did her defiant anger. Who was she kidding? The man was right; she would never see her dreams come true. It would be one battle then the next for her. Her frown quickly returned as the man’s realistic words echoed through her head as she guided the sharp edged ship toward a waypoint on her HUD. ‘No, screw that!’ Thought the pilot, she would prove 4423 wrong, she would earn her dream. She wasn’t going to let that miserable wiped drone ruin her hope. A confident smirk crossed her lips, she was not going to give up.  

         9124 looked down at the pilot with a slight frown while putting her strong hand on the younger woman’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. The woman then said in a solemn soft voice, “Don’t let him get to you ace… Hold onto your dreams.” 0082 nodded her head as she continued to focus on the world outside their ship. Frowning, the older woman patted the pilot’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to get all my equipment together and see what the others are up to… see you once we land.” 9123 then turned around and walked through the opened crew compartment door. Climbing down the small set of stairs that led to the cargo hold, 9123 walked over to her nearby fatigue green cot that was part of the living pallet that had been loaded on the transport. There wasn’t much privacy on the transport even the bathroom and “shower” were only shielded from the rest of the cargo compartment by a thin black curtain that could be wrapped around each of the two stations.

          Sitting sideways on the cot next to hers was YH-9911-6132, the lean man with small narrow red artificial eyes carefully examined every part of his disassembled Longbow sniper rifle. He was the team’s sharpshooter and scout, and he was an amazing shot with that rifle. The sleek almost real looking mechanical eyes only enhanced his sharpshooting skills by increasing his vision well beyond that of a normal eye. He preferred to work solo and kept to himself most of the time. He wasn’t as bad as 4423 when it came to being cold and distant, but he was a close second. The man didn’t even look up when 9123 recovered a bag from under her nearby cot and started to cram some of her clothes that had been resting out on the bed into it, without any regard for organization.

         “You will fit more in there if you fold and organized your belongings,” said a smooth voice behind 9123. The woman looked over her shoulder at the naked muscular man that was wiping down his body with a towel. His skin was much darker tan than her own skin, and his shoulder blade length straight hair was jet black.

         Smirking 9123 replied is a soft almost motherly voice, “I do not need to fit more. Unlike you I do not try to fit three bags worth of crap into one.”

        “You know most of my bag is filled with medical equipment I use to save your ass,” replied PL-0320-1767 smiling back as he went to his bag and started to carefully extract a uniform without disturbing the rest of the well-organized clothes and equipment. The man had striking features that made him comparable to a male model one would find in terran advertisements for clothes.

         9123 smirked as she watched him and said, “Well someone needs to fight. Hiding behind cover all the time doesn’t complete the mission.”

        1767 smiled and added in a confident and smooth tone of voice as he put on his underwear and pants, “I fight, I just prefer to do it intelligently, and use cover so I don’t get shot.”

        9123 shook her head and added, “There is a difference in using cover during a fire fight and hiding behind a wall the entire time and waiting for the rest of us to kill the enemy.”

        “1767 can fight better than most out there, but as our medic he needs to stay back more than the rest of us so when we get hit he can administer medical care. Remember he has saved both of us several times,” said a sand paper like voice from the furthest cot on the pallet. The owner of the voice was the squad leader AZ-1030-1221. The man had skin color the same as their pilot. However the leader lacked hair and most of his facial features were ruined by numerous scars and synthetic replacements, including his entire jaw and right cheek bone structure. He started his career as a member of the Acquisition teams, and he had been a member of the high risk unit for over 25 years.

        “If I got seriously wounded none of you would know how to save me, and then everyone is doomed,” added 1767 which invoked an eye roll from 9123. She then shook her head silently while zipping up her bag, and pulled it off her cot before dropping it in front of her feet. She then gave it a swift kick to get it under the cot.

     Unceremoniously dropping her massive frame onto her cot 9123 muttered, “Well you keep hiding while the rest of us get the mission done.” The medic’s response was a smug smile, as he sat on his cot to put on his boots. There was a moment of silence before 9123 asked, “Boss any more information on this mission?”

        “None, which means SyCorp did not want to risk the information leaking to any other organization. Expect a stealth operation and prepare accordingly,” replied the gritty voice of their leader.

         “Awww sounds like someone will have to use a silenced carbine instead of the heavy coil rifle,” teased the now fully dressed medic as he carefully put away his bag and adjusted the collar on his urban grey camouflage fatigues.

        “I do not care what the mission actually is as long there is some action and not some boring “watch people do something” observation mission,” said the woman as she held up her right hand to block out the dim light in the middle of the ceiling.

         “Amen to that, the only thing worse than observation no action missions is babysit the important person mission,” replied the medic as he brushed off his pants like there was something on his thighs.

         “Remember that one high profile meeting where we had to play bodyguard and had to sit in all those briefings?” asked 9123 with a heavy sigh as she let her muscular arm drop to her side.

        “I swear 4423’s face almost twisted into one of sheer boredom by the second third. I do not understand how the corporates could actually like those bore fests,” replied 1767 shaking his head then stretching his long arms out.

        9123 and 1767 continued their discussion on the boring body guard mission from the year prior, where they had to sit through five days of meetings and business discussions. The conversation then started to transform into one discussing how terrible it would be to just be a garrison troop on some central world that never saw any real threats. Their conversation continued until the mechanical sound of the engines rotating into vertical mode for landing.

        Upon landing, the rear of the craft’s ramp and door opened slowly revealing they had landed in a vast underground hanger. At the bottom of the ramp, an elderly woman stood patiently in her sharp business attire. The suit she wore was a three button blazer with fancy gold embroidered collar and cuffs of the sleeve. Once the engines had cut off completely the woman finally spoke in a firm commanding voice, “Good to see you all here earlier than expected Acquisition Team Nine, leave your equipment on the Succubus. We need to brief you immediately on your mission as we do not know when your target will be spotted again, and once she reappears we need to launch your team immediately.” The squad leader nodded and turned his head toward the back of the ship as 4423 climbed down from the crew compartment. Once 4423 was standing next to their leader, the group started down the ramp after the woman who had swiftly turned around and started to walk toward the double doors that led out of the hanger. 0082 would join them once she finished her post flight duties.