The Purple Rain (1)

Raftor

Published in

The Evening Devourer

21 min readSep 22, 2022

An Outkast project fan-fiction story.

Prologue

Durashians taught us for centuries that half breeds were abominations that endangered the purity of sacred bloodlines which, if left unchecked, would produce incurable diseases that would lead to complete pure race extinction. According to the Committee of the Official Record, there was a time in Kuier history when such an event already took place and ninety percent of the pureblood population succumbed to a cross breed originated pandemic. Half breeds were smarter, stronger and their immune systems had displayed unprecedented healing and regenerative qualities. Cold viruses that mutated in their bodies were merely uncomfortable nuisances to the half breeds but deadly to the purebloods. To avoid this cataclysm from ever occurring again most extreme measures have been authorized by the Council of Dura. Every decade “a year of the purge” was called to cleanse the entire Kuier populace of impurities with full prejudice.

At the order of the Council of Dura, the Office of the Inquisitor together with the Science Council began experimenting using pre-cataclysm gene splicing tech to create Untermensch supersoldiers. Genetically fused pure breeds who shared only the most desirable traits. Their offspring were often further fused with other previously enhanced beings creating an ever sharper genetic edge. No naturally born human stood a chance against these creations. Most
“furies” as they were called, have been recruited by the Office of the Inquisitor to form the vanguard of the purge legions.

Did the Azarian and Nagarian think tanks truly believe their secret tech would never produce undesirable results, that no unsanctioned half-breed creation would ever take place? Despite all the precautions eventually, a “glitch” did occur. This individual’s unscrupulously spliced genes were identified as Nova Cyan and Red Lava — incidentally races of two lead scientists on the project who have been put on trial and sentenced to death despite a lack of clear evidence of their direct involvement. Before their deaths, they managed to smuggle out and hide their creation somewhere deep beyond “the land at the end of the world”. Her name was Malaika and she was the first Purple Rain.

Chapter 1 — The Blockade

Malaika’s Outkast troop at handshake point Delta.

“They’re late again,” Malaika grimaced in frustration as she took off her hunter scope visors. Still no sign of the blockade runner and the display refresh rate was driving her crazy. I told that idiot Lado not to touch her shit, but as always he had to tinker around with it.

“These are as good as useless without imaging and interface tune-up Mal, and you should know better not to wear that Azarian, completely overpriced, glitchy gear anyway. These things look fancy behind glass, they work great everywhere else but here, which to us makes them,” he raised his eyebrows ceremoniously, “completely useless!”

“Tell you what Mal, let me take these off of you and I’ll trade it for you for a nice pair of Wyverns at the nearest outpost. Now that’s a visor no Outkast would sneer at, best optics money can buy, unmatched zoom capability, target highlighting and prioritization, weather proo…”

“You sound like a goddamn Herlikkon salesman Lado, you should trade your blaster for a cargo float and join the next caravan we run into, keep selling boy, I gotta take a physio break. Oh and don’t forget to keep an eye on the perimeter while I’m behind the boulder. The Tanners should be here any minute.”

“Seriously Mal? You know for someone whose a pinker and her name means freedom you’re pretty judgy if not prejudiced.”

“Whatever Lad, just keep your eyes open. We don’t need any surprises, and I really, really don’t want to call in Domani’s support team this time. I’m sure she’s all suited and sniffed up. Let her pace.”

Corporal Teteny. Durashian Expeditionary Force scout troop Rosalia traversing the desert expanse six hundred kilometers south of the Korrus Mountain Range.

Pinging relay Rosalia. New contact. Grid T32-R5, sector 8. Three Tawny Amber half

males, two females, and five Outkast guards in a class 3 blockade runner bearing S51°E. Speed 367km/h. ECM interference coefficient at 7.9. Maintaining shadow. Teteny sent the report and kicked the hoover bike into high gear. Two more hours, three tops, now that he’s finally found them — he thought. Good thing too, Sergeant Tomer said she needed to go over the reports with him again. That always meant one thing — he’d better shower.

Commodore Adiyan’s Expeditionary “Blue” Legion camouflaged in the Adora gorge four hundred kilometers south of the Korrus Mountain Range. Main Force.

The Commodore was staring through the narrow slit of the slightly raised armored plates on the bridge of the “Vigilance” command barge and he was sweating profusely. They have been running all non-essential machinery completely silent to maintain zero-emission signatures. This included climate control and filtration systems. Thanks to his mother’s auto-immune disorder which he inherited his delicate blue skin was all puffed up, swollen, and discolored due to the ever-present dust particles making him look like a young Nagarian albeit without the sacred swirl marks. The brown tactical armor suit he preferred to wear during combat missions made him blend in together with the rest of his all-Cyan officer staff. Only the Keishi tattoo on his forehead identified him as the Commodore.

What a bland, uninspiring, useless landscape — he reflected, as he stood motionless and alert. The Kuier continent has been famous for being one of the most eco-diverse landmasses on the planet and this forsaken, devoid of life appendix of rocks and sand stood out as its most forgettable region. No wonder people called it “the land at the edge of the world.” Nothing was desperate enough to grow here, and most certainly nothing should be interested in living here. This huge area of land was home to three native animal species none larger than a desert rat. There was absolutely no reason to ever venture here beyond the safety of the southern shield of the Korrus Mountains. Until now.

Few more purges and he could finally report to the Council that the “cleansing” of the newly acquired lands has been completed and they could finally get on with their lives for another decade or so.

Unfortunately, these Outcasts as they’ve rightfully called themselves sheltering somewhere beyond this rocky expanse have become more and more brazen. At first, there were reports that hundreds of cross bread abominations had been reported fleeing through the desert. This was welcome news as no one was expected to survive these suicidal treks. However, in due time it became apparent that very few bodies were being found. That’s when Adiyan was first called into Pravada to take stock of the situation.

Once he understood that these half-breed escapes are not just desperate death runs as a result of the purge he immediately ordered the establishment of the blockade. This put an abrupt end to the excursions. Fewer and fewer escape reports have been filed until they stopped completely and Adiyan was promoted to the rank of Field Commodore.

What a fine celebration that was. He was the youngest Durashian to be ever bestowed with such responsibility. Mother would have been proud — he glanced his forehead rank tattoo with the back of his hand.

Then the unthinkable happened. The Outkasts not only dared to defy the authority of the Council of Dura by sheltering the escapees, but they also started to actively extract the halfbreed abominations from the newly annexed Federation lands.

At first, they were just a few ad hoc raids with small uncoordinated teams harassing the blockade outposts in random locations. These were all easily repulsed. As time passed they became bolder, better equipped, and… smarter. Someone was clearly leading their overtures. Inquisitor’s Office infiltrator reports suggested it may be the Outkast Prince of Pravada himself. Two months ago the first blockade runner made its breach.

Since then Adiyan’s “Blue Legion” proudly commanded by all-Cyan-skinned officer staff has been called in to neutralize this threat once and for all. These Outkasts have been sheltering somewhere in the deep south and gaining strength. This cancer growth had to be dealt with. All they needed was the location of their lair. This has proven to be harder than originally expected but….

“Commodore, Rosalia is reporting confirmed contact in grid T32-R5! — comms officer exclaimed.”

Finally. Adiyan turned towards the deck officer. “Blue Alert! Move out in echelon formation, maintain signature silence.”

Warren Palenikov’s Outkast extraction team aboard the blockade runner “Anaconda” approaching handshake point Delta.

“We have just received a ping back from the handshake team.” Electro-Tech Shaunpaul always spoke too fast when he got excited. He joined the Outkasts three months ago, smuggled out by a team just like the one he was on now. He never dreamed of getting such an opportunity so quickly, but the recent aggressive foyers of the Durashian Expeditionary Force have taken a heavy toll on the Defence Army of Outkasts or DAO. Ad hoc, unplanned extractions have become more and more common. The losses were mounting quickly but what choice did they have? The Durashian Office of the Inquisitor has waged one of the bloodiest purges in recent history sweeping through every nation of the valley from Herilkhon, Garaudor all the way to Pravada. Pure and impure half breeds have been rounded up like cattle and slaughtered in broad daylight in a gory festival of blood and uninhibited hatred. Those that escaped immediate death have been sent off to the Karyn Gulag. Most of the populace hid in disgust and fear but a fair amount spectated throughout the ordeal chanted, and incited even more violence. It was the opportunistic vigilantes who were most eager to reveal and drag out their compatriots, neighbors, and friends.

Dressed in his impeccable Ketsueki enviro suit Warren glanced at the main display console of their heavily armored and modified commercial sand trawler. These so-called blockade runners were the latest technological attempt at gaining an upper edge on the Dura in at least one specialty — extraction. If Malaia was to survive, not to mention thrive, it needed more women and men, it needed every body and limb it could get. The already fast surveying barges captured from the Geology and Resource Extraction Research Council were stripped of all their original geo scanning and excavation equipment, fitted with four additional crew space modules, and refitted with six hybrid supercharged turbines practically doubling their speed. Since stealthy approch was key to their mission, they sported state-of-the-art multispectrum AI-driven ECM jamming module suites. No known homing weapon was capable of getting a positive lock. Kinetic weapons were the only way to hurt them and to mitigate that threat they’ve got a superlight armor upgrade kit protecting the engine, helm, and other vitals. This was a blockade runner after all.

When Shaunpaul was still as Paul Veritoff, an average, not overly ambitious if not to say aimless, but otherwise a rather untroubled citizen of Herlikhon and heard the word blockade he always imagined, the seventeen-year-old boy that he was, that a bunch of Durashian automated drones patrol the valley perimeter. He never thought, until he became a passenger of the “Tsunami,” that an entire Legion has been deployed to ensure the integrity of the border. Just two weeks before the Great Equinox Purge he finally managed to contact the local Outkast underground cell in Grottenhaven and got lucky enough to get verified and assigned an extraction number. Next dawn, the hand-off team entered his flat, blinded him, put him into a cargo container, and shipped him to the hand-off point onboard a standard military supply transport run. He wished he could see the faces of those brave suckers running that part of the operation but getting to the border was the easy part. Getting past it, that’s a whole other story, but that’s what the Outkasts excelled at — improvisation, savvy tech… and surprise.

After all, the biggest problem with defending a long stretch of territory against a tiny extraction team is that it’s… well… long and the DAO command chose where it would puncture the line. Asymmetrical warfare at its best.

Shaunpaul shuddered and a wave of nausea swept through his body as he kept recollecting the day of his extraction. “It’s much easier to be the extractor than the extracted,” he thought.

He was dropped off in a small supply depot at the southwestern edge of the base with other freshly deposited cargo containers. Not long after the supply vehicle cleared the area Shaunpaul’s container was popped open by the “middleman” operative whose name will never be known. His only job was to open the containers. At the right time. The “Tsunami” came in hot just as the sun cracked the surface. The alarms started blaring, lights flooded the landscape, soldiers started running out of their shelters, shouting and scouring in all directions, drones started buzzing out in ever-increasing numbers. Small-arms fire broke out in several locations. Vehicle engines were starting up in the background but one of them was different, louder, closer, and coming from the south.

There were no lights or explosions, just deafening noise as the “Tsunami” rumbled through the AI sentry robots swinging their cold barrels in erratic movements unable to get a lock, and several lines of field fortifications capable of stopping many men, but not the “Tsunami”. She breached the blockade like a hornet, grabbed its prey, and left just as quickly as it arrived. Shanpaul could barely believe his eyes. The “Tsunami”, guided by the “middleman beacon” came to an abrupt stop just above the hollow square of stacked containers where Shaunpaul joined by several other runners gathered staring in bewilderment towards the sky. Hatches opened in the hovering craft and Outkast operatives emerged shooting grapnel guns and snatching away all evacuees in one swift stroke. The entire breaching operation lasted no more than two minutes. What followed was a long 72-hour non-stop, full-speed run through the rocky desert landscape of the Expanse. There were no friendly casualties and five new, free citizens joined the ranks of Malaia. He was free. It was as if the coin had been flipped. His new life, his real life, has finally begun, with a clear goal. To get as many others out of the jaws of Dura as he could.

And now the “Anaconda” was on its final approach to meet with the “hand-in” team, drop its escort and cargo before continuing on its deaf and numb run to the temporary shelter depot in case of unrelenting pursuit.

Corporal Teteny. Durashian Expeditionary Force scout troop Rosalia shadowing the blockade runner “Anaconda.”

Teteny flipped a switch and his hoover bike immediately gained speed as his last fuel tank hit the dust behind him. One of his tracker drones stopped abruptly and was sending distorted signals. He needed to catch up with her quickly and verify the visuals in person. The main force is already in pursuit and will be converging on his coordinates soon. He can’t lose his prey now, not before they find the fabled Outkast heaven.

Malaika’s Outkast troop at handshake point Delta.

Malaika was starting to get anxious. The “Anaconda” was almost an hour late at the rendezvous point. There were many reasons why the extraction team could be delayed but comms silence had to be maintained so there was nothing else they could do but wait. She started fiddling with her mask to ensure optimal filtration as she focused on her breathing to calm herself down.

“Here they come, 1 o’clock!,” Lado exclaimed.

“Finally, let’s get this over with. Fire the decoys,” Mal barked.

Lado activated the decoy drones which filled their visors with static but made it temporarily impossible to track anything in the sector via sensors. The “Anaconda” slowed down just enough to jettison its human cargo. Ten objects spit out of its back in quick succession and hit the sand. The barge immediately sped up and continued seemingly uninterrupted on its now solitary run controlled only by the AI.

Malaika emerged from behind the rock outcrop behind which they’d been hiding and signaled their location with a laser beam to the escort team lead. Several individuals that just had been dropped into the sand rose quickly and started running towards them but at least two lingered in place clearly struggling with someone still on the ground.

“Guide those incoming to the caves, I”m going to check on the others,” Mal shouted as she hopped on the hoover bike and sped off towards the stragglers. It took her less than a minute to get there. A woman with a broken leg was lying on the ground screaming in pain.

“Evening Warren,” Mal said to the Outkast escort lead as she flicked a switch on the bike and pneumatic stretchers popped up from its port side .“Why is it always your runs that get into trouble heh? Get her on and let’s move it.”

Warren and Shanpaul quickly propped the woman onto the stretchers and hit the auto-strap button that secured her into place.

“Buzz off Mal,” barked Warren and started running towards the hideaway caves without waiting for a reply.

Corporal Teteny. Durashian Expeditionary Force scout troop Rosalia shadowing the blockade runner “Anaconda.”

Teteny was forced to slow down to cruise speed as his visor sensor feed filled with static. He switched to the visual spectrum only. There was a wall of sand in front of him. This definitely did not look natural. He amped the speed once again and blazed through the mini sand storm. The moment he cleared the obstruction one of his drones sent a “renewed contact” notification on the blockade runner at the projected location. Everything seemed in order and he was about to kick into full gear when he noticed a movement at the left edge of his visual arc. He turned and zoomed in. Nothing, just another rock formation. His drone kept chiming in with steady “maintaining shadow” notifications. If he was a regular scout fresh out of training maybe he’d just sped on to stay on his main target but Teteny spent two years in active duty helping to bring the Kingdom of Pravada into the fold of the Federation and he knew better. There are no large animals in this desert and he rarely had visual distortions. This needed to be checked out.

Malaika’s Outkast troop at handshake point Delta safe caves.

“Domani, this is Mal. Looks like half the Durashian Army followed the “Anaconda” and is converging on Delta. We need a distraction now.”

“Roger that, looks like you can’t do without our company Pinky.” Malaika heard the sneer in Domani’s voice but she had more important things to worry about than some childish rivalry with a fellow Outkast. If Domi wasn’t the Prince’s doll things would’ve been different and she’d be leading the support team instead of hiding like a sand rat in these stupid caves.

If only that idiot Warren didn’t shoot the Durashian scout everything would’ve gone according to plan, but that was done now and maybe he’d have found them anyway. There was no point thinking about that now. The place was crawling with Durashian scouts and perimeter drones identified a large formation moving towards them and sooner or later they’d find them and pry them out of their hiding shell like an oyster.

Corporal Teteny. Durashian Expeditionary Force scout troop Rosalia at interception point “Delta.”

Teteny tried to open his eyes but the bright light completely blinded him. Sharp pain shot through his right shoulder as he tried to touch it to check for bleeding. His hand bumped into the micro-trauma drone normally attached to his accessory belt already busy working the wound. He needed to find his visor. Good thing his mask didn’t get blown off or no drone would be able to save him. He slowly rolled over onto his side and squirmed in pain. This surely will get him an extended leave on the coast of Ravenna. He shielded his eyes with the left hand and saw a shadow nearby — must be my scooter. He started crawling towards it, the trauma pod followed attempting to continue its work as he slowly labored his way forward with one hand. He managed to make just a few slithering movements when his eyes, somewhat adjusted to the brightness now allowed him to notice another object in the sand just ahead. As he crawled closer there was no doubt it was a body. He soon recognized his fellow scout trooper with the crimson lightning emblem of the scout troop followed by the embossed “R-6” on the shoulder armor pads. Klario — the chatty guy who always filled the comms with jokes and stories of what sounded like mostly imaginary sexual conquests back home. Imaginary or not, someone accused him of sexual misconduct while in the elite 6th Heavy division and he got transferred to the scout regiment. That was just a month ago — thought Teteny as he took off Klario’s visor and struggled to put it on. He finally strapped it and scanned the perimeter The “friend-or-foe” identifiers were blaring everywhere but he heard no warning chimes or anything for that matter. The stupid trauma drone should’ve focused on his hearing, not the trigger hand. He needed an immediate evac. He glanced at the team status on the visor display. Rosalia — Ready — one. MIA — one. KIA — six. Goddamned amateurs. His team must’ve converged to assist him and got ambushed. He pinged R-3, Kaio, the other veteran on the team and the only survivor and waited.

Malaika’s Outkast troop with “cargo” en route to Heaven East Gate.

“I’m wondering how you’re gonna explain all this to the Prince?” Domani wasn’t even trying to hide her delight as they sped on their speeders with the passengers clinging to their backs through the narrow alleyways of the shallow canyons on their final approach to Malaia.

“You mean how you’re going to explain it right? I’m just a Pinky grunt after all, but you? His gopher, bedmate… uhm or should we just call you a concubine, ah I forgot, other than screwing up support missions by blowing everything to smithereens at the first opportunity and bringing the entire Dura army on our backs you also excel at dance, poetry, intellectual dissertations and…”

“Oh shut up Pinky, you were no good back in the old country and you’re just half good here, don’t you forget that. Not everyone is as embracing as our Prince… you better watch your mouth or you’ll have to start watching your back.”

“You wanna repeat that over open comms “Princess”? So everyone can hear? Or was this meant for your diary?” Malaika snarled and put her comms with Domani on mute.

It’s not like she wasn’t used to being picked on then… and now, but she knew Domani could really ruin her day. For some strange, fucked-up, rather curvy reason — Malaika grimaced — the Prince really trusted this porcelain-skinned Anotterian and she’s never let an opportunity pass to scapegoat her own failures by dumping it on Malaika. She also really relished it too, as if she saw Mal as some kind of a threat, why else would she have chosen to ride with her instead of one of the other four teams they dispersed into on the final run? Over the last few weeks, it’s become obvious that she’s been ordered to keep an eye on her.

“Submit authentication key,” An interrogation ping from the sentry drone lit up on her visor display. We made it — thought Mal — as she turned around for a final tail sweep.

Commodore Adiyan’s “Blue” Legion on the approaches to interception point Delta. Detachment Alder.

“Still no response from Rosalia sir,” the comms officer said calmly.

“Raise them again,” Lieutenant Alder was fuming. He knew his compatriot, Commodore Adiyan will not be pleased with the performance of his vanguard so far. Not only did they lose track of the runners but they seemed to have lost the scout team, which he found inexplicable. How could an entire scout team fall to some half-trained, unorganized rabble? There would be consequences for this folly… if only there were any survivors.

He tried to calm himself by picturing the onyx waters of the Varanzian reservoir back home in the Sha’hala. Always still, thick and impenetrable. He remembered when Azalia was still young and they’d come there every spring to look at the evaporations and he’d tell her stories of how his father…

“Sir! Comms officer exclaimed. “R8 reporting in.”

“Patch him in!” Said Alder much louder than he intended.

“This is Corporal Teteny. Drone three maintains a lock on the blockade runner but we have detected multiple speeder bike signatures in the vicinity. They’ve split up into several groups on different vectors. We are in pursuit of one of them. Should we continue to shadow the speeders or rendezvous with drone three? Over.”

“Maintain shadow,” replied Alder calmly. “And no fireworks this time.” This could be our break — thought Alder.

“Patch me a private comms link to the Commodore in my ready room,” he barked at the comms officer.

Shaunpaul’s Outkast troop with “cargo” en route to Heaven West Gate.

Shaunpaul was close to throwing up. He was a certified Electro-Tech meant to operate state-of-the-art electronic arrays or blockade runner’s jamming suites not ride speeders with someone strapped to his back and pressing their fingers right into his solar plexus. What was wrong with that guy anyway… or was it a woman? Warren ordered him to get going so quickly that he didn’t even have a chance to have a good look.

He got on the speeder, the passenger hopped on and he immediately heard Warren shouting “scram, scram, scram”, and each party sped off on their final predetermined approaches to the Heaven. Shaunpaul was gunning for the West Gate in a random zigzag, flipping from one gorge to another followed closely by another speeder. A few more turnovers and they’ll be home. He could already smell the Shangri-la noodles with watercress and Anoterrian pickled seaweed. He saw an upcoming nook in the rocks and raised his right hand briefly signaling his teammate while he pressed the brakes to fall behind on a routine tail sweep to make sure no uninvited guests had been following. He tried to swing the speeder into the little rock opening and turn around in a single smooth motion but once again he overestimated his speeder handling skills and bumped into the sharps rocks hard. He heard a sharp squeal behind him and something punched him in the back. His passenger was not pleased. He tried to check if everything was alright but couldn’t really see without disembarking as he was now being squeezed by his cargo like a lemon. He snapped out of his momentary distraction and scanned the perimeter. All clear. No followers, no drones, and scopes were clean too. He punched into gear and sped on to catch up with the other speeder for final gate entry interrogation.

Corporal Teteny. Durashian Expeditionary Force scout troop Rosalia shadowing an outkast speeder.

Keeping a tail on a speeder was hard enough for tiny specialized drones. It was next to impossible for a tired human on a bulky speeder. The Outkasts developed intricate tactics to ensure no one could follow them into their little hideaway at the edge of the world and they were pretty good at it. Teteny got almost caught once already on this mad run through the canyon when one of the speeders suddenly flipped around to check their six. Thanks to supernatural reflexes steadily stimulated by his Valved Rhino mask slowreleasing the BorEx stim gas and little bit of luck he managed to veer off in a split of a second and hide behind a small rocky outcrop. Maybe years of riding speeders competitively in the Garudor hippodrome had something to do with it too.

He waited a minute and for a moment considered using his belt sensor drone but decided against it. Outkast sensor tech seemed to have an edge over theirs in this harsh terrain. He waited a bit longer and finally dashed out of his hiding ready for a fight if need be.
Nothing.

In under ten minutes, he found his prey again and luck smiled on him once again. This particular Outkast team had serious issues handling their speeders, as one of them smashed into a wall trying to do another sweep which gave him ample warning. He not only managed to hide but also had enough time to deploy a nano tracker drone which attached itself to the back of the Outkast scooter without being detected. Bingo! Teteny smiled. If it somehow gets past their final interrogation sentries he’ll get a promotion and a ticket out of this miserable place.

2 days later

Commodore Adiyan’s “Blue” Legion on the approaches of the Malaia Wall. Detachment Alder.

“Gear up.” Commodore Adiyan’s bellowing voice could be heard from the distance past the electronic alert chimes. “I hate that cyan-skinned skeletor, if he gets any skinnier then surely a shamal or even mid-strength dust devil will take him,” thought Hriday.

“… and then what we’d do?” Lieutenant Alder looked at him intently with his cold blue eyes just a shade paler than his blue skin. Cyans often used geselin to protect their delicate skin from the elements which made Alder glisten in the moonlight like a turquoise. “Keep your thoughts pure.” Alder murmured as he walked past Hriday to mind-stalk another poor soul.

Goddam cyans Hriday shuddered, if they couldn’t pick up thoughts they would’ve been purged eons ago they’re so goddam repulsive. He checked and tightened the straps of his Blackdrizzle combat suit. With a swift thumb swipe, he took the safeties off his Defiant Slave ballista. One day, once they’re done purging the halfbreeds we’ll cleanse the world from these creepy blue vermin too. For now, we’ll have to settle with some Tawnies. After all skin is a skin and cash is king.

“Forward!” Three short chimes sounded and the 3rd Cohort of the Blue Legion or “Wrath of Dura” as Adiyan himself liked to call it, lurched forward to catch its prey. They run out of the trench in a loose V-shaped formation with Vasilios, as always, on point, flanked by heavies — Joseph and Karl. A spotter drone buzzed over as they picked up the pace. Hriday hesitated for a second, he zoomed out his tac-map to maximum and glanced at the HUD with disbelief. Red rectangle denoting regiment strength unit with a filled roundel and an inset number 6 pulsated at the edge of his tactical display. “What the…” he uttered, “7th Heavy… no less, the old man sure brought in the all the toys.”

The squad quickly reached the rocky outcrop where they were to set up their temporary fire position. Hriday grabbed Cody who just finished setting up his heavy suppression blaster. “You seeing this Cod? Heavies inbound.”

“You having Cyan afterthought flashes again Hriday? Don’t let the blue skin linger in there too long or he’ll lobotomize you like he did poor Juliano and turn you into an ammo hauler or Purple Rain bait. Don’t fight it, just let him in and out. Don’t forget blue skins give us an edge here in this forsaken rock desert. Speaking of which, this terrain is not very suitable for heavy machinery, hence we never see them around here, you know.” Cody turned back to tend to his weapon but suddenly stopped obviously inundated reviewing his visor data. Hriday realized his newly upgraded Annotian fire spotter display gave him a few-minute advantage over his squadmates. Cody looked at Hriday. “I suppose you might be onto something. The 7th hasn’t seen action since the amalgamation of the Valley. They were also touted as the only unit equipped with the Sturmrhino siege howitzer detachment.”

“No shit,” said Hriday. “This is no purge. This is an invasion.”

End of Chapter 1