Halcyon

Protagonist: Jacen
A part of an experimental Phase Two of the ORION Project, a subsidiary of the Cerberus Project; Jacen was cloned from Hephaestus.

Love interest: Aria Vesir
Similar to Jack in many ways, like she has tattoos that cover most of her body and a faux hawk with shaved sides. Her name is Aria Vesir, sister to Private Vesir of the GFMC.

Story (v.I)
"Die!"

That's what he heard when a plasma blade entered his upper abdomen, piercing the him like wet paper. He could feel the heated blade course past his large intestines, a near-miss and excruciatingly painful just the same.

His life flashed before his eyes

Beginning
Excerpt

Prologue (v.VIII or IIX of Shatterpoint online)
0835HRs, 2703 June 1st (Military Calendar) / Helion System: Planet Kaliveya Military brass, every high-ranking officer of the Galactic Federation of Alliances sat together in a conference room at the capitol building. Conferring on what to do about the constant dwindling source of soldiers to fight the Reaver threat across the galaxy. Debating for hours on end like a lot of politicians, many of them were still unsure of what to do. After a moment, the Kaewar colonel Corinthus spoke up when he saw Major Hawkins sitting quietly, seemingly contemplating something with his fingers.

"Virgil." he called.

The man seemed almost oblivious. "Hm?"

"What are you thinking?"

He stopped moving his fingers and placed his hands flat and firmly on the conference table, "Many of you may not agree with what I have in mind."

General Johnson of the GFA Marine Corps. "What are you proposing, Major?"

"Reenact the Redemption Act of 2544."

All, except Corinthus and the Puazi admiral Vadam gawked at him with utter disgust and disapproval in the eyes.

"The Open Arms Program?" he said with obvious disgust, "Absolutely not, we can't allow these animals free, it would be hectic."

"You think?" Hawkins raised a brow and said, "Our scientists came up with an inhibitor coding so we could maintain the masses."

He removed a small metal device from his pocket and showed it to his colleagues. The rest of them knew what it was and were a bit puzzled but it seemed Corinthus to know where he was going with it though he said nothing as of yet, continuing to look on in intrigue.

"As you can see, it's a neural interface, not unlike our own, but with an added perk, platoon and company commanders would get remote codes that activate these devices and sends a painful electroshock treatment to any convict in violation of the terms such as disobeying orders."

"Sounds a bit unethical, don't you think? I mean we're violating their natural rights." The martian colonel Ferreth said.

It didn't take a full minute for him to muster a response but before he could say anything Corinthus interjected, "They are prisoners, J'onn. They lost their rights when they committed the crimes that landed them in a penitentiary."

"Gentlemen, the Reavers are relentless and we could use the cannon fodder so the real troops can return in one piece; if they live through it, they can go home to whatever rat-hole they came from, if they don't, they're probably dead anyway."

There was silence for a long moment, each officer thinking about the pros and cons about the reactivation and the troubles released convicts could cause, but all in all, the most they would be used for was suicide missions and being on the frontlines ahead of actual military personnel. Corinthus and Hawkins gave each other a glance and nodded, after another few seconds, he spoke again, "All those in favor of reactivation of the Open Arms Program, say aye."

Corinthus was the first to say, "Aye."

Following his lead, there was a collective of affirmations by officers, including Ferreth, although reluctantly.

"Good," he leaned back in his chair. "Now let's go get the our precious senate to authorize this."

Chapter I (v.8)
1024 Hrs, July 11, 2703 (Military Calendar) / Ulysses S. Grant Judiciary Detention Center, Peragus VII

The inmates of Grant penitentiary were being lined up in different sections of the prison, from cell block to cell block, in long bare hallway outside a door&mdash;behind it was a screening room, to determine proper applicants for the Open Arms program. "Prisoner 731062" They called. Jace was next. He wasn't sure if he made the right decision or not. Being a patsy to the government that locked him up. He looked behind him and got a sour taste in his mouth at the sight of the man: Deek, a sly bastard of a Puazi and Jace's cell mate for the past couple years. The hinge-head was good in a fight, but only because he fought dirty usually keenly looking for weaknesses only to exploit them when the time called for it. He knew this from watching the convict fight, studying his movements. In case the man ever turned his reticle on him, he'd know how to handle the situation. Deek gave him a smug grin then Jace stood just before his prison ID was called, glaring down at the Puazi male, teeth clinched. They called his number again, "Prisoner Two-one-seven-three-zero-seven." After another moment, he turned his back on the alien and disappeared behind the door with the nurse.

Beginning (II)
Excerpt: Jace moved through the gore of the tattered lab; the scientists weren't given a chance, no signs of resistance was evident, these people were systematically executed.

Prologue (v.IX of Shatterpoint online) (Omitted, edited and continued in H:S, v.X below)
2317HRs, 2703 June 1st (Military Calendar) / Lctn: Peragus system; Peragus One Prison Colony, Cell Block D

Prison life is not for everyone, being trapped on a floating rock in the middle of an asteroid field a billion miles away from the nearest port with a band of murderers, rapists and drug dealers. Everyday the same thing over and over again: conforming to the guard's demands and as this was a mining colony, Hades Corporation's supply and demand for ezium as well despite the high death rate in the mining tunnels that ran through the asteroid. The day before Francisco Tejada died when the mine he was in collapsed, however, many thought it was officer Fitz since he was the only witness. Among other things, fights broke out quite frequently, enough times a week that the guards typically let the inmates hash it out, betting was common practice. And that was all just during the day, the nights there were far worst. Most nights, the howls of Pietro often kept half the cell block awake as his asshole was being plugged by the Puazi Carem. Hard to tell if it was pain or pleasure the way that boy sounded, but no one would dare complain out loud, they were all afraid of the horn-head. Most of them anyway.

Lucas Carmichael suddenly awoke at Pietro's pleasured yelps reverberated throughout the cell block, the sounds were constant and irritating. The same thing practically every night, it was time to say something. The human stood from his cot on his lower bunk, immediately catching the eye of his cell-mate who gave him a worried look. Luke ignored him and spoke anyway, "Hey, Carem!" He yelled, "Quit fuckin' your bitch, so the rest of us can get some damn sleep!" He demanded.

After a moment the moaning paused, there was a slight stillness in the air. No sound, as if it had been turned off completely. After feeling satisfied for a moment Luke decided to lie back down, then the doors to the block opened and the lights came on. Now what?

Four guards assembled around a new inmate, one he'd never seen before; the kid seemed to be barely under his mid-twenties and skin of a light bronze. Fit with a vacant nonchalant look as he was escorted to a cell. What's your story, kid? was Luke's first impression.

Prologue (v.X of Shatterpoint online)
2317HRs, 2703 June 1st (Military Calendar) / Lctn: Peragus system; Peragus One Prison Colony, Cell Block D

Prison life is not for everyone, being trapped on a floating rock in the middle of an asteroid field a billion miles away from the nearest port with a band of murderers, rapists and drug dealers. Everyday the same thing over and over again: conforming to the guard's demands and as this was a mining colony, Hades Corporation's supply and demand for ezium as well despite the high death rate in the mining tunnels that ran through the asteroid. The day before Francisco Tejada died when the mine he was in collapsed, however, many thought it was officer Fitz since he was the only witness. Among other things, fights broke out quite frequently, enough times a week that the guards typically let the inmates hash it out, betting was common practice. And that was all just during the day, the nights there were as much as they could be were relatively peaceful.

Lucas Carmichael, a forty-something year-old convicted inmate stood up in the middle of prison sleep cycle, half-dazed from his thirteen-hour shift in the mines and deprivation of rest, one thing could get him at this point&mdash;he had to piss. He shuffled over to the toilet and did his business, after feeling satisfied for a moment Luke decided to lie back down, then the main doors to D block opened and the lights came on. A smirk crawled its way onto his face and one word popped in his mind: Fresh meat. Soon his thought became the cry of cell block D. "Fresh meat! Fresh meat! Fresh meat!" Four guards assembled around the new inmate, led by Fitz, one he'd never seen before but he sure looked familiar; the kid seemed to be barely in his twenties and skin of a light bronze. Fit, with a vacant nonchalant look on his face as he was escorted up the stairs to second floor. The guards opened the cell next to Carmichael's and tossed him in, slamming it behind; the guards vacated the block and the sleep cycle resumed. The inmates eventually grew silent, but one asked a query with no hesitation, a zealous authoritative tone in his voice but there was no answer. "Boy? Boy, you in there?" He asked, "You missing a few stems in your cranium or what?" "Shut the fuck, Pachenko, we tryin' to sleep!" Someone yelled and Luke agreed silently. "Fuck you!" After a few minutes of pointless bickering all fell silent and the cycle resumed.

* * *

Breakfast came fast and the "fresh meat" was sitting by himself, silently eating his food, he kept his head trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Prologue (v.XI of Shatterpoint online) (Started:1/23/15 - Discontinued: 2/17/15) (May be recycled)
Date: Unknown / Time: Unknown / Lctn: Unknown

It Was Cold, and dark in there. The air was thin, the metallic floor quaked every-so-often, and he wasn't alone.

Prologue (v.XII of Shatterpoint online) (Started:2/17/15-2/18/15)
Date: 16 August 2688 / Lctn: Unknown

"Walking with a friend in the dark is better then walking alone in the light."

- Helen Keller

Jacen, a courier awoke from his rest when his alarm blared, half-dazed from his binge-drinking earlier he got up and dismissed the annoyance. It was 11:30 at night, local time there on Dreshdae. After a moment he turned and noticed a beautiful woman on the bed, a Kaewar. Jayson remembered he'd met her at Tulak's, a small establishment two blocks from his loft apartment, they had their fun, but now he had to go to work. He was sure she'd understand.

He showered quickly as not to wake her, dressed and stealthily exited to the elevator. He clicked the button to the first floor, his apartment was on the second highest floor just below where some celebrity lived, but Jacen had never seen him or her. He often thought tenant was some kind of reclusive writer or something.

Prologue
(Sundari). The capital planet of the (Coalition), a floating mass that harbored twenty-five billion people of varying races barely twelve thousand light years from galactic core. The planet possessed an ambivalent position among the Coalition's membership for its place in the criminal underworld, but was nevertheless a citadel, and all citadels needed a ruling party. At the moment, said ruling party were conferring in the convocation chambers of the (senate building), on what to do about the constant dwindling source of soldiers to fight the Reaver threat across the galaxy. Debating for hours on end, many of them were still unsure of what to do. After a moments of silence, the Kaewar senator Corinthus spoke up when he saw Commander Victus sitting quietly behind him in the podium, seemingly contemplating something with his fingers.

"Victus." The senator called.

The Kaewar commander seemed almost oblivious. "Hm?"

"What are you thinking?"

"One of two possible solutions to our problems." He said, cryptically, then stood, "I am Victus, commander of the Coalition Army and many of you may not agree with what I have in mind."

"What are you proposing, Commander?" A Xel asked.

"Reenacting the Redemption Act of 2544."

All, except Corinthus and senator Vadam gawked at him with utter disgust and disapproval in their eyes.

"The Open Arms Program? Are you mad?" A Sinu asked with obvious disgust, "Absolutely not, we can't allow those animals free, it would be hectic, not to mention heretical to the system."

"You think?" Victus raised a brow and said, "The Office of Science and Industry came up with an inhibitor coding so we could maintain the masses."

He turned to reveal his neural interface and pointed it out to his colleagues. They all knew what it was because they possessed but were a bit puzzled as to why he was showing them, it seemed Corinthus knew where he was going with it though he said nothing as of yet, continuing to look on in intrigue.

"As you can see it's a neural interface, not unlike our own, but with an added perk, platoon and company commanders would get remote codes that activate these devices and sends a painful electroshock treatment to any convict in violation of the terms. Such as disobeying orders."

"Sounds a bit unethical, don't you think? I mean we would be violating their natural rights." The Thraex Ferreth said.

It didn't take a full minute for him to muster a response but before he could say anything Corinthus interjected, "They're prisoners, J'onn. Criminals and convicts. They lost their rights when they committed the crimes that landed them in a penitentiary."

"Gentlemen, the Reavers are relentless and we could use the cannon fodder so they real troops can return in one piece; if they live through it, they can go home to whatever rat-hole they came from, if they don't, they're probably dead anyway."

There was silence for a long moment, each officer thinking about the pros and cons about the reactivation and the troubles released convicts could cause but all in all, the most they would be used for was suicide missions and being on the frontlines ahead of actual military personnel. Corinthus and Victus gave each other a glance and nodded, after another few seconds, he spoke again, "All those in favor of reactivation of the Open Arms Program, cast your vote."

Corinthus was the first. Following his lead, there was a collective of affirmations by other senators, including Ferreth.

Everyone packed up to go, Victus waved farewell to Corinthus and managed to squeeze through the traffic of security, diplomats and senators in the hall to make it to his office in the east wing of the Department of Defense. Just as approached his door, he heard some calling him with urgency.

"Sir."

"What is it, Mekel."

"They've found it."

* * *

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Ceri replied.

Chapter I
A TERRESTRIAL PLANET, on the edge of the Outer Rim Territories, in a star system far from the galactic core. One of over an estimated forty billion planets in the galaxy, also one of the few hundreds deemed inhospitable to life. Humanoid life that is; an apparent backlash caused by a century old conflict conducted with nuclear armaments that once scarred the surface of the arboreal mass. As time passed, flora and fauna evolutionarily adapted to the desolate world, once peaceful creatures and beautiful vegetation mutated, posing significant threat to any who dared step foot on the surface, along with the minor residual nuclear clouds left over.

However, miles beneath the poisoned surface, from an undisturbed slumber something was awakening. Something, or someone.

Pitch black. And eerily silent as he became aware; awoken, but delirious, he couldn't tell which way was up. Feeling confined as if in an enclosed space, he moved his hands forward, they touched something solid, not metal. . . no, it was glass. He attempted to open it by pushing forward, to no avail instead he deepened his body into the foam-like cushioning he was lying against. Where am I? He thought. He concentrated on remembrance for a moment but couldn't muster a thing; his past, the date, not even his own identity. It all eluded him completely.

He peered through the glass at a sudden spark in the distance behind two panes of glass, the dark room ahead just barely illuminated by a sparkling wire every few seconds; it was just enough to see he was in some sort of containment pod, and it was cold. Freezing, even.

He rubbed his right knuckles as it was the only part of his flesh that was bare save for his feet, feeling the stiff hair protruding from his skin; it was strange and uncomfortable. The man moved his hands around the pod trying to feel for anything that might help, when he reached upward he felt a handle and grasped it. Pulling it, the pod hissed as it began to disengage the latches, he sighed with relief when it opened up but then grimaced almost as quickly when he caught a whiff of the air.

"Man." He said aloud, as he stood up and stepped out of the cushioning interior, touching the cold metallic floor with his bare foot. He quickly turned his attention on the smell and where it was coming from, he followed his nose, sniffing the air&mdash;it was revolting to say the least, but nevertheless effective as he discovered the odor seemed to be coming through the air vents above. Before he could take a step his legs trembled and caused him to collapse and fall to the floor face first. "Ah!" He cursed before he started speaking a language he didn't even understand, "Ikarht ma duun zishk dramund ka'asii!"

The man laid there stunned, his frail legs unable to compensate the weight of his body and gravity pressing his face against the agonizingly cold floor. He laid there for several prolonged minutes before garnering the strength to push himself up from the ground and grabbing the handle bar on the side of the pod; he groaned and winced as he pulled himself up. He held his body close to the external handle, sustaining his weight on it until he got a footing. Come on, get up!

After several seconds passed he attempted to take a step while still holding on, he made sure it was secure before letting go and taking another step toward the window where he saw the spark. Knowing holding onto the bar was just a handicap he slowly let go, afraid that his infirm body would drop again, but it didn't take long as he took a firm footing before walking forward. His steps were slow and still as he made his way around to a side door, luckily it was unlatched, a second glance revealed it was actually being blocked by something. He used the door to help him stoop down to see what it was, he moved in close to get a good look. It was a hand, metallic in appearance, the man stood back up and pried the door all the way open revealing a bot arm lying there, he quickly surveyed the room and found the bot it belonged to and a man in a bloodied white lab coat lying with his back against a console, dead.

"What happened here?"

Suddenly, the bot's eyes started glowing yellow and it sparked back to life as he approached the dead man, spewing sparks, pre-recorded dialogue introducing itself as SP-43RO a personal assistance bot, and spoke of other subjects that just made no sense to him; speaking of a Galactic Federation, something called a Reaver and the galaxy at large. But the word Reaver caught his ear, as if he heard it before.

The man began sliding off the dead guy's boots and slipped them on, they were old and dingy but he didn't care, his attention was far more centered on the malfunctioning bot. "Whoa whoa, go back to the part about the Reavers, what are they?"

The bot snapped, crackled, and popped sparks before saying anything, "Gzzt . . .humans . . . failed exper. . .augmen . . biologic . . . gzzt mass infection . . . the flood."

He raised a brow. "The flood?"

"Gzzt . . . flood of infection. Contagion . . . quarantine failed, breached Olympus. Primary protocol failed. Self-deactivation initiated."

"Prptocol, what&mdash;what do you mean deactivation? Wait, I have more questions!" The man grabbed the bot by it's neck joint with both hands, but it was too late, the eyes' yellow glow faded, "Gett." He exclaimed quietly, letting the bot sag down, he moved back over to the corpse. Who's gonna answer my questions now? He patted the dead guy's face, ''You, handsome? I don't think so.''

He searched the man's coat and pulled out a data pad and pistol, among other things; he trained himself with it for several moments before raising himself to the terminal the dead man was leaning against. He activated the screen and found the login screen, it had a bio-metric scanner. Not wanting to take the chance of it locking him out, he grabbed the deceased at his feet and raised to eye level of the scanner and waited for it to finish, when it he gently laid him back down. "Thanks," he stopped to look at the screen, "Aaron . . . Gibson?"

He scrolled through the files until one caught his eye, it read: CERBERUS Project, he clicked it but another lock activated this time it was a numerical code and it was timed, probably triggered to shut down whatever here was left on. "No, no, no." He pleaded, but he sighed knowing there was no way to obtain the password. He turned away from the terminal and started walking down the hall, leaving the man's body and his bot behind.

* * *

Yet Another Try (Started: 4/18/15) (Started back: 5/20/15)
Chimezie, Jakub Michálek, Zuhrie Kamaruhyari, Baric, Yiseira, Yanira

Chapter I
A TERRESTRIAL PLANET, on the edge of the Outer Rim territories, in a star system far from the galactic core. One of over an estimated forty billion planets in the galaxy, also one of the few hundreds deemed inhospitable to life. Humanoid life that is; an apparent backlash caused by a century old conflict conducted with nuclear armaments that once scarred the surface of the arboreal mass. As time passed, flora and fauna evolutionarily adapted to the desolate world, the once peaceful creatures and beautiful vegetation mutated, posing significant threat to any who dared step foot on the surface, along with the minor residual nuclear clouds left over. However, miles beneath the poisoned surface, from an undisturbed slumber something was awakening. Something or someone.

Pitch black. And eerily silent as he became aware; awoken, but delirious, he couldn't tell which way was up. Feeling confined as if in an enclosed space, he moved his hands forward, they touched something solid, not metal. . . no, it was glass. He attempted to open it by pushing forward; to no avail instead he deepened his body into the foam-like cushioning he was lying against. Where am I? He thought. He concentrated on remembrance for a moment but couldn't muster a thing; his past, the date, not even his own identity. It all eluded him completely. He peered through the glass at a sudden spark in the distance behind two panes of glass, the dark room ahead just barely illuminated by a sparkling wire every few seconds; it was just enough to see he was in some sort of containment pod, and it was cold. Freezing, even. He rubbed his right knuckles as it was the only part of his flesh that was bare save for his feet, feeling the stiff hair protruding from his skin; it was strange and uncomfortable. The man moved his hands around the pod trying to feel for anything that might help, when he reached upward he felt a handle and grasped it. Pulling it, the pod hissed as it began to disengage the latches, he sighed with relief when it opened up but then grimaced almost as quickly when he caught a whiff of the air. "Oh, my&mdash;" He exclaimed aloud, as he stood up and stepped out of the cushioning interior, touching the cold metallic floor with his bare foot. He quickly turned his attention on the smell and where it was coming from, he followed his nose, sniffing the air—it was revolting to say the least, but nevertheless effective as he discovered the odor seemed to be coming through the air vents above. Before he could take a step his legs trembled and caused him to collapse and fall to the floor face first. "Ah!" He exclaimed again before he started speaking a language he didn't even understand, "Ikaht ma duun zik dramund ka'asii!" The man laid there stunned, his frail legs unable to compensate the weight of his body and gravity pressing his face against the agonizingly cold floor. He laid there for several prolonged minutes that seemed like an eternity before garnering the strength to push himself up from the ground and grabbing the handle bar on the side of the pod; he groaned and winced as he pulled himself up. He held his body close to the external handle, sustaining his weight on it until he got a footing. Come on, get up! After several seconds passed he attempted to take a step while still holding on, he made sure it was secure before letting go and taking another step toward the window where he saw the spark. Knowing holding onto the bar was just a handicap he slowly let go, afraid that his infirm body would drop again, but it didn't take long as he took a firm footing before walking forward. His steps were slow and still as he made his way around to a side door, luckily it was unlatched, a second glance revealed it was actually being blocked by something. He used the door to help him stoop down to see what it was, he moved in close to get a good look. It was a hand, metallic in appearance, the man stood back up and pried the door all the way open revealing a bot arm lying there, he quickly surveyed the room and found the bot it belonged to and a man in a bloodied white lab coat lying with his back against a terminal, dead. "What happened here?" Suddenly, the bot's eyes started glowing yellow and it sparked back to life as he approached the deceased, spewing sparks and pre-recorded dialogue introducing itself as SP-43RO, a personal assistance bot, and spoke of other subjects that just made no sense to him; speaking of a Galactic Federation, something called a Reaver and the galaxy at large. But the word "Reaver" caught his ear, as if he had heard it before. The man began sliding off the dead guy's boots and slipped them on, they were old and dingy but he didn't care, his attention was far more centered on the malfunctioning bot. "Whoa whoa, go back to the part about the Reavers, what are they?" The bot snapped, crackled, and popped sparks before saying anything, "Gzzt . . . humans . . . failed exper. . .augmen . . biologic . . . gzzt mass infection . . . the flood." He raised a brow. "The Flood?" "Gzzt . . . flood of infection. Contagions . . . quarantine failed, breached Olympus. Primary protocol failed. Self-deactivation initiated." "Protocol, what—what do you mean deactivation? Wait, I have more questions!" The man grabbed the bot by its neck joint with both hands, but it was too late, the photoreceptors' yellow glow faded, "Gett." He exclaimed quietly, letting the bot sag down, he moved back over to the corpse. "Who's gonna answer my questions now?" He patted the dead guy's face, "You, handsome? I don't think so." He searched the man's coat and pulled out a pen and pistol, among other things; he eyed the weapon for several moments before raising himself, it was steel gray with a black grip. "You found your own way out, huh, buddy?" He let his eyes wander a bit, "Out of whatever the hell happened here." He toyed the weapon for a minute or so, unsure of how to hold it or how to use it and then found himself pulling the trigger. The explosive bang resonated in his ears and he winced as he attempted to make it stop. Minutes passed and it did and he tucked the pen into the sleeve of the navy blue skin-tight suit he was wearing and let the pistol fall to his side. "Thanks," he stopped to look at the deceased man's identification badge, "Gibson." He turned away and started walking down the hall, leaving the man's body, the bot behind and the chamber whence he came, behind.

* * *

On the planet's surface, a small scout ship with the logo of the Galactic Federation on its hull, landed in a small pasture. Cutting the power to the thrusters, the ship's pilot Ensign Agron turned to address his passengers. "Alright, now listen—" "Uh-uh," Lieutenant Karena Agron placed a finger on her husband's lips, "My team, my briefing." "Whatever you say." He chuckled turning back to the controls. The medium-sized brunette turned away as well to address the motley crew that had been assembled for her. Two mechanical engineers, a corpsman, and two marines, all hand-picked by some saditty Kaewar consultant from the capital of the Federation. She hated having things decided for her, the very idea of it being ripped from her grasp clearly violated her natural rights, but being an officer in the Federation's navy, it didn't matter. "Alright, listen up. I don't fully understand why we're here, so I'm gonna keep this short and sweet." She said switching to an austere attitude, "We're here for those ass-munching brasses back on Sundari, searching for some kind of underground vault. Don't ask me why, just do your job and we can get the hell out of here." The team agreed and opened the ship's hatch. Karena led them out and onto the pasture, the grass felt soft beneath her feet and the sun was high in the sky. She gave the gesture to follow, she led them while following the grid coordinates on her bracer's holomap, they trekked through the woods, quagmires, high grass plains and killed several beasts on the way. One beast was a large one, a severely mutated feline the size of a child, it appeared vicious and was about to attack but Private Vasir put it down immediately with two quick bolts from her assault rifle. The girl was good for Cirian recruit just out of basic training, but it was one thing to shoot an animal, it was something else entirely to take the life of sentient being. The lieutenant knew that too well, her first week out of basic and she'd been tossed into a dorma's nest on Persephone during the Kessan insurgency. Two days into that masscre and she'd already gunned down, bludgeoned or stabbed at least nineteen of those insurgent bastards on that moon, earning her the moniker Xist Krul meaning "Lady Death" in their language. Fifteen years and one war later killing, whether it was a sentient or animal, became just as easy talking. Without realizing it, the lieutenant had stopped and her bracer had been beeping for the last couple minutes. She switched it off and glared at the moss covered entrance, it looked durable like ten tons of obstruction. The mechanical engineers stepped up with their equipment bags, both human but one was female. "It's a good thing we brought the right hardware." The female engineer said touching the large entrance, studying it. "How long?" Karena asked. "Hard to say, maybe an hour. Or two." The male said, "I mean look at this thing, it's a damn bunker. We could try blowing it, but that might not do anything except piss off the jungle life." "Or we could try overriding lockdown protocol, but that will take a couple hours." Karena sighed, "Alright, find a way to override it." With a nod the engineers got to work and she found a stump to sit on, before she realized it Vesir was sitting right beside her, rifle tucked between her legs. Karena looked at the Cirian, her people's facial markings adorned her face like a Baryllian leech, each represented something that varied from each individual; some were achievements, marks of mourning, or duty among the probable numerous other things they could mean she learned during her time on Persephone. But then the lieutenant realized she didn't know anything about this girl. Just a Cirian private in Federation Marine Corps, she seemed capable enough to get through basic, but the situation might change if she ever saw real combat. Karena had seen some tough marines and soldiers broken down and bawl like a baby when they feared they would die, and they did because they were afraid to fight. She chortle, it was short and humorless. "Stupid." "Ma'am?" Vesir queried. "Hmm?" "You okay?" "The question is, are you gonna be okay?" "Afraid I don't understand, ma'am." "I need to know if you can handle it." Vesir was visibly curious. "Handle what?" "I want to know if you can handle yourself in combat. Can take someone's life?" "Yes, ma'am. I can." Her voice dropped to match the seriousness on her face. Karena believed, but there was some doubt that was still there. "Good." There was relative silence for the next two hours; the sun remained high in the sky. The marines had taken to stripping and cleaning their sidearms, timing each other. They were so young, and were born in a different galaxy than the one she lived in, fought and bled for; everything was about politics now. The posh and lanky sentients good for nothing but talking your ear, wasting time, and lying to get what they want. Karena preferred the direct approach most of the time, no bullshit. Only one person truly got that in all her years and she married him. A half hour passed and the engineers finally unlocked the vault door, a loud and heavy drone sounded as it sank in then rotated over to the left. It was pitch black in there and smelled of the undeniable, something she had smelled on far too many occasions. Death. She looked around at her team, none seemed liked they wanted to go anywhere near it, but the objective was in there waiting. Just look for the last one. She remembered her commander saying, relayed through him from the saditty Kaewar. She stood up and grabbed her rifle, holding it in a ready position. Could be anything down there. "What are you standing around? Let's go." "You heard the lieutenant." Vesir added, "Move like you got a purpose." The lieutenant went in first, followed by Vesir then the rest hesitantly followed suit into the darkness.

Chapter II
Inside the vault, the smell seemed to have a more potent effect on the team after they got off the cargo lift that brought them an undesirable number of miles underground. The lift was ancient, far older than the lieutenant but surprisingly it was able to transport them to the lower levels of the facility, albeit with a deep metallic groaning that made everyone think it going to give way and let them fall to their deaths. The odor kept getting stronger with each step as they deeper in the dark that Vesir had to use a cloth she carried to cover her nose, tying it around her head and under the ponytail she sported. She removed another from her pocket and gestured to the other marine beside her who was gagging softly. "No, thanks." He refused. He was a tall human of average height for a male by Federation standards, approximately six feet. Fair skin, with reddish-blonde bristles on his chin, barely enough to call facial hair; it was easy to tell he was only eighteen and fresh out of basic just like her. But she looked well past her age, she looked grown and her body was plentiful.

Slowly moving along the corridor, the odor he smelled earlier was becoming stronger with each step, the direction of it was becoming more clear.

Characters

 * ORION-327; Soldier (Human clone)
 * Avery; Soldier (Human)
 * Aria Vasir; Shadow Agent (Tyran)
 * Antauri

Political Galactic Federation

HALCYON

By A.J. Bryant

ONE

A TERRESTRIAL PLANET, on the edge of the Outer Territories, in a star system far from the galactic core. One of over an estimated forty billion planets in the galaxy, also one of the few hundreds deemed inhospitable to life. Humanoid life that is; an apparent backlash caused by a century old conflict conducted with nuclear armaments that once scarred the surface of the arboreal mass. As time passed, flora and fauna evolutionarily adapted to the desolate world, once peaceful creatures and beautiful vegetation mutated, posing significant threat to any who dared step foot on the surface, along with the minor residual nuclear clouds left over. However, miles beneath the poisoned surface, undisturbed, something was awakening. Something or someone.

“What the fuck?” were the first words out of Arjan Singh’s mouth

Beginnings (IV) (8/14/15)
(Started: August 14, 2015 | {Modified/Continued: })

Cast (8/14/15)
(Started: August 14, 2015 | {Modified/Continued: August 15, 2015})


 * Subject 7; Subject of the ORION Project
 * Reichel "Rei"
 * Athene Haggen; Festus's daughter
 * Festus Haggen; Director of the ORION Project
 * Adam Josiah Benton

Halcyon (8/14/15)
(Started: August 14, 2015 | {Modified/Continued: August 15, 2015 - August 16, 2015})

The sun reflected off his armor as he ran through the forest, trekking the foliage and mud beneath his boots about as he went, dodging tree roots and animal carcasses from lain traps posted by poachers. His nose wrinkled under his helmet in disgust at the cruel way they were handled. Sloppy and unnecessary, would have been faster to just shoot them, merciful that way too. He hated when creatures were treated so cruelly, thinking retribution was always coming back on the wicked. He would make sure of it when he caught up to them. "Lex talionis." He whispered, tugging on the rifle in his hands, and continued on. He kept on in the same direction until he came upon a large tree with a knife stabbed into it and a bright yellow cloth hanging from it. He was told to search for it beforehand, but no other orders, which was strange considering his overseers always seemed to enjoy micromanaging. In fact, the whole operation was strange.

Remnants
Excerpt: Epilogue

JACE Stood There, a mere meter from the precipice of Kékés mountain of (Adorján), a couple thousand feet above a blood-soaked field littered with slaughtered livestock, crashed Atmorian ships and their Alliance slaves&mdash;survivors of the campaign they wrought on the world&mdash;or at least the were survivors. The embers from the wreckage.

SJ52B assault rifle, one of the finest rifles the Alliance military's arsenal

Synopsis
Unlike the previous incarnation, this HD is an episodic series of exploits from multiple perspectives.

(Ceri) (Started: January 15 2015)
2307HRs, 2699 December 31st (Military Calendar) / Lctn: Unknown system; Priscilla Two Prison Colony, The Pits

The Pits. The Jungle. Tartarus. Hell. This place went by many names, most of which are derogative in nature. A massive prison base carved into a asteroid and terraformed to house the worst offenders in the sector. Offenders such as Drek the Sindalian Ripper, Sinya Bex the Bitch of Mokae, Pero of the Red Nova among many others. Most were simply murderers, rapists, or thieves, but Ceri

The Boy in Cryo (Started: January 15 2015) (Move to "Another Try")
1437HRs, 2703 4th (Military Calendar) / Lctn: Unknown system, unknown planet

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Ceri replied.

A TERRESTRIAL PLANET, on the edge of the Outer Rim Territories, in a star system far from the galactic core. One of over an estimated forty billion planets in the galaxy, also one of the few hundreds deemed inhospitable to life. Humanoid life that is; an apparent backlash caused by a century old conflict conducted with nuclear armaments that once scarred the surface of the arboreal mass. As time passed, flora and fauna evolutionarily adapted to the desolate world, once peaceful creatures and beautiful vegetation mutated, posing significant threat to any who dared step foot on the surface, along with the minor residual nuclear clouds left over.

However, miles beneath the poisoned surface, undisturbed, something was awakening. Something, or someone.

Pitch black. And eerily silent as he became aware; awoken, but delirious, he couldn't tell which way was up. Feeling confined as if in an enclosed space, he moved his hands forward, they touched something solid, not metal. . . no, it was glass. He attempted to open it by pushing forward, to no avail instead he deepened his body into the foam-like cushioning he was lying against. Where am I? He thought. He concentrated on remembrance for a moment but couldn't muster a thing; his past, the date, not even his own identity. It all eluded him completely.

He peered through the glass at a sudden spark in the distance behind two panes of glass, the dark room ahead just barely illuminated by a sparkling wire every few seconds; it was just enough to see he was in some sort of containment pod, and it was cold. Freezing, even.

He rubbed his right knuckles as it was the only part of his flesh that was bare, feeling the stiff hair protruding from his skin; it was strange and uncomfortable. The man moved his hands around the pod trying to feel for anything that might help, when he reached upward he felt a handle and grasped it. Pulling it, the pod hissed as it began to disengage the latches, he sighed with relief when it opened up but then grimaced almost as quickly when he caught a whiff of the air.

"Damn." He said aloud, as he stood up and stepped out of the cushioning interior, touching the cold metallic floor with his bare feet. He quickly turned his attention on the smell and where it was coming from, he followed his nose, sniffing the air&mdash;it was revolting to say the least, but nevertheless effective as he discovered the odor seemed to be coming through the air vents above. Before he could take a step his legs trembled and caused him to collapse and fall to the floor face first. "Ah, fuck!" He hissed before he started speaking a language he didn't even understand, "Ikarht ma duun zishk dramund ka'asii!"

The man laid there stunned, wearied legs unable to compensate the weight of his body and gravity pressing his face against the agonizingly cold floor. He laid there for several prolonged minutes before garnering the strength to push himself up from the ground and grabbing the handle bar on the side of the pod; he groaned and winced as he pulled himself up. He held his body close to the external handle, sustaining his weight on it until he got a footing. Come on, damn it, get up!

After several seconds passed he attempted to take a step while still holding on, he made sure it was secure before letting go and taking another step toward the window where he saw the spark. Knowing holding onto the bar was just a handicap he slowly let go, afraid that his infirm body would drop again, but it didn't take long as he took a firm footing before walking forward. His steps were slow and still as he made his way around to the side door, luckily it was unlatched, a second glance revealed it was actually being blocked by something. He used the door to help him stoop down to see what it was, he moved in close to get a good look. It was a hand, metallic in appearance, the man stood back up and pried the door all the way open revealing a bot arm lying there, he quickly surveyed the room and found the bot it belonged to and a man in a bloodied white lab coat lying with his back against a console, dead.

"What the hell happened here?"

Suddenly, the bot next to him eyes started glowing yellow and it sparked back to life as he approached the dead man, spewing sparks, pre-recorded dialogue introducing itself as SP-43RO a personal assistance bot, and spoke of other subjects that just made no sense to him; speaking of a Galactic Federation, something called a Reaver and the galaxy at large. But the word Reaver caught his ear, as if he heard it before.

The man began sliding off the dead guy's boots and slipped them on, they were old and worn but he didn't care, his attention was far more centered on the malfunctioning bot. "Whoa whoa, go back to the part about the Reavers, what are they?"

The bot fizzed, crackled, and popped sparks before saying anything, "Gzzt . . .humans . . . failed exper. . .augmented bi . . . gzzt mass infection . . . the flood."

He raised a brow. "The flood?"

"Gzzt . . . flood of infection. Contagion . . . quarantine failed, breached Olympus. Primary protocol failed. Self-deactivation initiated."

"Protocol, what&mdash;deactivation? Wait, I have more questions." The man grabbed the bot by it's neck joint with both hands, but it was too late, the eyes' yellow glow faded, "Damn it." He exclaimed quietly, letting the bot sag down, he moved back over to the corpse. Who's gonna answer my questions now? He patted the dead guy's face, ''You, handsome? I don't think so.''

He searched the man's coat and pulled out a data pad and pistol among other things; he trained himself with it for several moments before raising himself to the terminal the dead man was leaning against. He activated the screen and found the login screen, it had a bio-metric scanner. Not wanting to take the chance of it locking him out, he grabbed the deceased at his feet and raised to eye level of the scanner and waited for it to finish, when it he gently laid him back down. "Thanks," he stopped to look at the screen, "Jayson Allon?"

He scrolled through the files until one caught his eye, it read: HELIOS Project, he clicked it but another lock activated this time it was a numerical code and it was timed, probably triggered to shut down whatever here was left on. Damn. He thought, there was no way to know the password. He turned away from the terminal and started walking down the hall, "Thanks anyway, Jayson," he said as he left the man's body behind.

Halcyon Days: The Odyssey, Part I (Started: 5/6/15)
(Thought up April or before, 2015) (Was supposed to start: 4/19/15)

The air in the ship was cold and crisp, yet the heat from his plasma torch caused him to exert streams of sweat as he welded

Halcyon Days: Civil War (5/9/15)
2588 June 28 12:07 Hours (Galactic Federation Standard) Ciria Prime

The sun rose on the horizon, the city of [BLANK] came with it as most of its citizens awoke and started about their day. However,

Halcyon Days: [IDK Yet] (5/15/15)
"GO, GO, GO!" Were the words he yelled to himself.

He moved as fast as he could through the trenches of the (Vamyn) countryside of (Minos), plasmic discharges all around him, tripping him about and causing him to have to use the enclosed walls for support to balance himself. Suddenly he felt a firm grip on his arm yanking him forward, "Come on, Bennett! Move!" It was Rebekah's voice that gave the order, a Phaedan woman he met when he first came to the planet a week ago for his first tour of duty in the Galactic Federation Army. Little did he know he'd be walking straight into a war zone. He quickly noticed her face was covered partially in the aubergine blood of the enemy, the vicious (Upiir), a race malevolent savages bent on nothing but the pleasure they receive in destroying. There were rumors that circulated they also ate the bodies of those who were killed, a disturbing sight to be sure.

It had been an entire year

gravel pattered his helmet as he tried to get up. He moved up and crouched behind a barricade, he fired his MA5B assault rifle

Chapter One
0930HRS, February 26, 2230 (Military Calendar) / GF Light Frigate Augustus, Kaywinnet System.

The ancient warship, a relic of the Earth-Martian Interplanetary War, the GFS Augustus hung in orbit above of the planet Azura. The four-decade old Imperium-class light frigate's interior had been gutted and retrofitted to house numerous living quarters for various alien and human needs, and even a few entertainment venues for long ventures in deep space including a track, a rec room and gym. At the moment Petty Officer (1st Class) Aria Vasir counted as she struggled to pull herself up on one more inverted sit-up in the ship's gym; her body told her she had done enough, but the man beside told her to push herself. "C'mon Tyr'a, one more and you're done. One more, push it! Push it!" He urged. Aria's sweat coursed its way from her forehead and into her long snow-white hair, each strand slipped from the hair-tie and dangled. After several seconds of urging, she forced herself up with a loud grunt and grabbed ahold of the bar. "Two hundred. There you go. I knew you could do it." Aria exhaled heavily as she let go and reared back on the inverted board; the man smiled and untied the restraints holding her legs in place. She used her arms as a vault and landed on her feet. She stood with haste and groaned from the pain. "Goddamn that hurt." "You'll get over it, you Valan are resilient." She cracked her back and stretched her leg muscles, the relief from her aching muscles made her go numb and she leaned against the wall for support. She chuckled. "You want to grab something to eat, Carlos?" He picked up a water bottle and took a swig before answering. "Wish I could. Got armory detail, Cunningham's been riding my ass about it lately. He wants us to be ready." "Did he say what for?"

"He's a cryptic. I wouldn't under if he did." "Warrant Officer Guerrera to the bridge. I repeat Warrant Officer Guerrera to the bridge." "Speak of the devil. Sorry, can't leave the skipper waiting." "See ya later, Carlos." "But hey, I'll meet you for dinner, my treat." Carlos departed with a smirk, leaving the young Valan in a room of the fit man-power of Galactic Federation Marine Corps, even with others around, she felt alone and vulnerable since she was Navy and they weren't. She sighed and shrugged at the thought. At least I'm not the only non-human here. And she was right, there were several others, a pair of Teth, Arians, and Sarens. The Teth were friendly enough, known for their militaristic and disciplined culture, tall and muscular bipedal reptiles from the sixth moon of Temuera. The Arians on the other hand had a primitive society on Arias before the Interplanetary War, now their either soldiers or criminals mostly, but have been known to take up missionary work much like Aria's own people. Not much was known about the Sarens however, they usually kept to themselves but if you stared long enough, their deep amethyst eyes would be on you and your entire body would go numb as if they were staring into the very core of your soul. Aria raised her arm and caught a whiff of her scent and winced. That is not a pleasant smell. She headed for the door and around the corridor, passing Marine and Naval personnel alike, officers and enlisted. When she made it to the locker room, she immediately grabbed a towel and walked into the shower stall. She washed herself up and down, her hair, and after a minute she could feel the stink expelling from skin. After a second rundown she rinsed off and wrapped the towel around her before stepping out of the stall. Aria smiled at the soldier beside her and opened her locker, grabbing a fresh uniform, she quickly got dressed, rested her pistol in her holster, tied up her hair and left the room. When she opened the door she saw security bots escorting a gurney with an unconscious man on it, he wore a tattered dark blue and gray skin-tight uniform. Without warning the man jumped up and shoved one of the bots into the wall. The look in his eye was that of fear, she knew it well from her first tour on Aalta, especially during the battle in the capital city. "Who are you people?" He yelled. Before she could bring herself to blink, personnel were on him. "Restrain him." One of them said. Another injected him with a sedative, he made eye contact with her before being forced down to the floor. He struggled for a few moments before going limp. They picked him up and place him back on the gurney, this time restraints were added and he was strolled toward Vasir; the escort noticed her corpsman badge and beckoned for her to follow. Her curiosity pushed her along, she followed them to the infirmary and once there she helped slide the man's unconscious body off the gurney and onto the bed. "Okay, can I ask who the hell this guy is?" She asked, intently. The other corpsman and Marine both shrugged. "Found him planet-side, a squad brought him back on captain's orders." "Yes I did Couldn't just leave him down there." Everyone stood at attention and saluted when they heard his voice. Shorter than six feet, brown hair mottled with gray, and Caucasian skin. He was a decorated veteran. "Captain Cunningham, sir, didn't hear you come in." The Marine said, returning to at ease. "I know." He turned his blue eyes on the unconscious man before him, "Is he stable?" "Yes, sir. Just gave him a sedative to help him relax." "You think you can wake him up, lieutenant? I have some questions I want to ask him." "Sir." The corpsman turned Tyr'ahnee, "Vasir? Can you grab that orange vial and give him a two milligrams." "Sure." She did as she was asked and loaded the vial into the injector and grabbed his arm. When the needle touched the skin, without warning the man slapped it away, jumped off the bed and grabbed her by the throat. The Marine lifted his assault rifle and the erratic man twirled his body behind Aria's to shield himself, without letting go of her neck. Cunningham waved a hand at the Marine not to fire while making eye contact. "Whoa, buddy. Be calm." "Calm, who the fuck are you telling?! Who the fuck are you people and how'd I get here?" He exclaimed, obviously confused. Tevos felt uncomfortable and was tempted to go for her sidearm but quickly abandoned the idea; this man was muscular she couldn't deny that and looked as if he could snap her neck like a twig if she tried anything. Best to wait it out she told herself. Best to wait. "I ask again: who the hell are you?" "I'm Captain Cunningham, this is lieutenant Davis, and corporal Crespo. The one you're holding hostage is Petty officer Aria Vasir. We're with the Galactic Federation and you're aboard the Augustus." He flexed his arm and it enclosed on Vasir's throat slightly. "How'd I get here?" "We brought you aboard. You were in a cryonic chamber, someone kept you preserved in stasis and we found you." There was a dead silence for a few minutes, then Cunningham spoke again. "Sir, can I ask what your name is?" He didn't answer right away but after a few seconds he released Vasir and she fell to knees. She looked back up at him, the confused look on his face; his forehead furrowed, confused. "I don't know." He said, finally.

* * *

A few hours later after being questioned non-stop by the good captain (most of which he couldn't answer), being given a physical and medical treatment for his apparent amnesia and any other sickness, the young man sat in his tattered uniform on the bed. Vasir dumped a duffel bag on floor beside the infirmary bed and gave the man a vaccine injection. Aria moved the injector away and put a cotton ball in its place. "That's for the hematological malignancy." She took up the remaining medical supplies and put them away in a low cabinet. "The what?" "Blood cancer. It's odd that you have it, since people are given shot as infants." He gave her a faint smile. "Maybe they missed one." She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, maybe." She opened the duffel and lifted it, placing it beside him; he looked over, a clean white shirt, black trousers and boots sat prominently in it. Same outfit as the one Vasir was wearing, a naval uniform. "While you're with us, dress appropriately. You look like shit." "Uh-huh... by the way it's Marcus." He said. Aria raised an eyebrow. "What?" "The name you suggested earlier: 'Marcus', I'd like to go by that." "Good. Um, a new uniform is in that bag, you can get dressed, and if you want, Crespo will escort you to mess hall for something to eat." "Thank you." Aria smiled wryly and turned to exit the room before he said, "I'm sorry." She stop for a moment then left the room, Crespo came in behind her, carrying a food tray with chicken, mash potatoes, and a green apple. He set the tray down on the bed and stepped back, and removed his helmet revealing a clean shaven middle-age Caucasian with blonde hair and brown eyes. Marcus leaned against the bed and looked at Crespo. Crespo caught his eye. "What?" Marcus felt his legs go limp and he dropped to the floor, hitting his head on the railing as he went down, he noticed Crespo over him yelling for help, sight faded and sound deafened against his eardrum as Tyr'ahnee came through the door and fell into unconscious.

Marcus walked down the corridor of the ship, riddled with corpses of USR soldiers and an odd bunch of mutated humanoids. He bent down to study one of them, it was female and Human or at least it used to be, the skin was matted with bloody lacerations as well as being partially burned, the mouth was glazed as if they cauterized it to prevent speech and the eyes were eerily pearl-white. He touched the mouth with a finger and the skin parted, he jumped back when a tiny black insect-like creature crawled out of it mouth and scurried away. Marcus's eyebrow twitch. "That's just wrong." The man stood and followed the critter around the corridor. "Master." You piece of shit.