“Our time as the rulers of humanity was many things to many people. Some saw us as benevolent saviors, destroying corruption and ushering in a period of wealth and growth the likes of which we’ve never seen before or since. Many more saw us as tyrants, using the weight of our might to accomplish goals that only benefited ourselves. Personally, I’m okay with their hate, and will embrace it again if that’s what it takes to unify the intelligent races.” — Letter to the Unranked Council, from Benjamin Hargrave.

  “As you were,” Captain Griffin said to the conference room full of enlisted soldiers the moment she stepped inside. While many of her colleagues enjoyed the pomp of disturbing a soldier’s task, she did not. “Shouldn’t you all know by now that I don’t want all that? Anyway, thank you for getting here this fast. I know we all have things to do and places to explore now that we’re on a new ship, but there are some things I need to cover with your squad before the brigade formation in a few days.”

  By the look on his face, Jack could tell that Hawkins was aware of what she had to say and was not a fan by any means. The normally jovial lieutenant had a pained look on his face that spoke of decisions made for the soldiers in his care, with little to no input from him. That normally meant something like a budgetary issue that would force Turaspeir to use old or broken equipment until they secured additional funding. But, based on the look of consternation on his platoon leader's face, the pending news was much worse.

  “Lieutenant, is everyone here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hawkins replied, taking his seat at the table and sitting back with his arms folded.

  “Good. Turaspeir, your squad is light on manpower. Usually, we solve this problem by taking a recent Advanced Training graduate without a squad of their own and adding them to your roster. It’s not the same as working with a soldier you’ve known since Algol, but it works in situations like this,” Griffin explained, taking her place at the head of the table and turning on the holographic projector in its center. “However, that will not be the case with you.”

  The display above the table was clear of all fanfare, only showing the name of a project Jack hadn’t heard of: Project Unity. Those two words meant nothing. He assumed it was related to the information Summers slipped him back on Erochea, but it wasn’t enough to infer what was happening without more details. Luckily, Captain Griffin was there to explain.

  “The Senate and the Unranked Council have chosen your squad for a special project based on your previous success and willingness to go the extra mile. As you know, many senators are worried. Recruitment numbers are low, and without Earth serving as a ready supply of resources, that problem can’t be resolved anytime soon.” She changed the image on the hologram to show a sobering statistic. “As of the current headcount, three out of four companies are in critical situations personnel-wise. Some are short soldiers because of injuries that may never heal. Others face the same problem, but their issues are mental rather than physical. While we can do little to fix these problems other than giving those soldiers adequate time, we can actually help with personnel.”

  The image changed again, this time showing four soldiers' silhouettes. “We will backfill positions in several ways. The first is the normal procedure of taking a recent graduate and pairing them with a company and squad that can teach them how the field really works. This is the method I tried to get for you. The second is to bring in a fresh soldier from Algol and allow you to train them in place of the advanced training you received. This method, while ugly, is still preferable to the other two. The soldiers you get from the colonies will certainly feel entitled to special privileges, but command is sure you can beat that out of them.” She stopped, gathering her thoughts as she stared at the first two pictures that were no longer silhouetted.

  “Can I assume those are not the methods approved for us?” Jack said, trying to lead the captain to her next thought.

  “Yes, you can.” She sighed, highlighting the third picture to reveal a tall Steel Cast man in full uniform with several weapons strapped to his kit. “The third option is experimental. The plan was to take Steel Cast that were in the resurrection queue and drop them into their original squads if they were still around. This would allow us to get back to the fight without needing to worry about an adjustment period. I know Ortiz is still on ice, and that he brought a lot to your team. However, I was overruled by people who make more money than I do.”

  “Wait,” Candice interrupted, waving her hand in the air, “So you're saying the ‘powers that be’ decided it wasn't worth their time to let us reclaim a lost friend we've all been grieving for months?”

  “Yes. PFC Hayward, you had a chance to see Ortiz again, and the politicians took it away.” Captain Griffin said, removing the silhouette from the last picture to reveal a man in ornate armor that reminded Jack of photos he’d seen from historic China before the unification of humanity.

  Layered rows of disks created a flexible breastplate that could move as freely as chainmail. The helmet was a strange piece. A glass shield allowed observers to see the entire face instead of the eye slit common in most visors. Shoulder guards made similarly to the breastplate dipped low, protecting the upper arms and tying into a pair of pauldrons. Waist guards hung down in four parts, protecting each side without sacrificing maneuverability. Finally, a pair of lightly armored pants that ended in a pair of armored shoes protected the soldier's legs.

  “Typical. They're going to give us new armor and keep us underpowered to save money.” Alec said, all the usual joviality gone from his voice. To say the man had little use for politics and the games they played was an understatement. He still remembered life on Earth, how poor choices and greed-based policies consistently hurt people.

  “Again, not quite. Actually, Morningwood, your guess wasn’t even in the same ballpark.” Griffin replied, falling silent and hoping the smarter members of the squad could figure it out.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “A veteran soldier from one of the colonies? Possibly even from one of the rebel worlds?” Warren guessed. There had always been rumors of colonists breaking away from the UHR to live free of republic law. It was very hard to pinpoint the accuracy of those claims, but it was safe to assume they were—at least—partially true.

  “You’re getting closer. The soldier is indeed from something resembling a rebel world and is certainly a veteran. Any other guesses?”

  “He’s not human.” Jack said, face so close to the hologram that his nose nearly broke the image. “None of these marks are in human script, and his face is too… shiny?”

  “That is a very good guess, Sergeant Monroe. In fact, I will go so far as to say it is correct. And I’m sorry.” Griffin replied, “I tried to push back against this, but there are simply too many eyes on this project. The Senate has come to a mutual defense agreement with the XanRai’d, and part of that agreement states that we need to see how the other fights. Usually, we could get away with a one company detachment in each brigade, but that wasn’t enough for the people calling the shots.”

  “What the hell?” Dave mumbled to himself, eyes scrunched in displeasure.

  “The AHF never works with foreign powers.” Jenkins said.

  “Of all the groups, why were we chosen?” Candice asked, layering her question right on top of the others.

  “Weren’t we fighting those guys like, five years ago?” Warren said, confused.

  “Aren’t they the ones that get sick if they don’t chew on a silver bar or something?” Cecile said.

  “God dammit, I don’t even like human beings I don’t know.” Nessa grumbled.

  The captain allowed their frustrated questions to build for several more seconds before finally calling an end to it all. “Silence! Look, I understand this decision isn’t pretty. I understand it isn’t going to be popular, but we don’t have a choice in the matter. You will have a XanRai’dian soldier assigned to your squad, and that soldier will deploy with you into the field. While you may not like it, you will treat this soldier the same way you treat any member of the AHF.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nessa said, leaning forward with her elbows on the steel table. “I can get over my xenophobia. I only have one question; can this soldier fight?”

  “Of course he can fight, Walker. What kind of soldier would he be if he couldn’t fight?” Griffin said, locking eyes with the breaker.

  “He would be on par with the average soldier from the 2nd Mobile Fortress. The first interaction I had with one of their men was… unpleasant to say the least. Any of our boys back in the 7th could wipe the floor with the man I ran into today.”

  “You’re already picking fights?”

  “Not picking, finishing.” Nessa said calmly. “I did exactly what we’ve been trained to do, and I protected someone who needed help.”

  “Is this a crime I need to know about?” Griffin asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Not yet, and hopefully not ever.” Nessa replied in a matching tone.

  “Good to hear. The 2nd has never held a reputation for producing strong fighters. They are very good at creating a wall and holding it, but individual combat prowess is always lacking. That will not be the case with the soldier you are getting. He is competent in combat, but his methods will be very different from what you are used to.” Griffin said, turning back to the hologram as it changed to display a map to the small ship arrival hangar. “My HUD will transmit instructions to Monroe at the end of our meeting. The XanRai’dian contingent will arrive at dock 47-Charlie at 14:00 in three days. I do not expect you all to be there unless Hawkins or Monroe thinks you should, but I do expect Monroe to meet with the soldier and introduce him to his new home.”

  Nessa appeared at ease with the decision, but the overall group clearly did not share her feelings. This outcome was not on Jack and Thea’s list of possibilities, but at least they’d mentally prepared themselves for the worst after talking it over. Jack understood that he now had three days to get his teammates to accept the idea before it was time to introduce the new soldier to their ranks.

  Hawkins, speaking for the first time since verifying everyone was accounted for, said, "Cap, I have a question."

  “Good. You and I can have our conversation in my office after the meeting.” She said with a dark look in her eyes as she dodged questions before they could begin. Years spent in her position told her that even if his questions were legitimate, the soldiers didn’t need to hear their conversation while being stuck in a room they clearly didn’t want to be in. “Come to my office in a few hours. I need time to get the paperwork together for the incoming transfers. Platoon, fall out.”

  The captain stood and walked out, ignoring any further attempts to question her or the decisions made by people higher in the chain of command. Jack looked at Hawkins for guidance and was disappointed to find that none would be coming. It was clear this was new for the lieutenant as well, and there was no existing precedent to offer advice from. The AHF, and humanity as a whole, had held on to a decision made a thousand years ago after the natives of Mars killed every human emissary they could find, and effectively destroyed any chance at interplanetary travel for several years. After that tragedy, the governments of the world demanded blood and have demanded more ever since.

  Jack and Thea had spent many nights lying in bed asking each other if they were truly the good guys out there in the stars. Despite all their talking, they’d never come to a definite conclusion. Jack had never felt comfortable with the isolationism that humanity seemed to love so much, but after a few years in the AHF, he could understand the core knowledge that enemies existed and civilians needed to be protected.

  “LT, is this a good thing?” Jack asked, directing his question to the defeated-looking officer in the corner.

  “Honestly, Monroe, I’m not sure. I’ve fought this species several times, been told how they use bio-weaponry to melt the flesh from their victims so the foot soldiers don’t have to get their hands dirty. Hell, I’ve watched a friend die as some biochemical compound dissolved his armor like it was paper and ate him alive.” Hawkins said, lost in memory. “I understand that I’m supposed to push my own feelings aside for the greater good, but this is like inviting the enemy into my home. The UHR wants to expand, to bring in other cultures and races so we can grow, but there are going to be many soldiers who don’t want this.”

  “So, is it a good thing or not?” Warren asked, repeating Jack’s question.

  “It can be. From a purely tactical perspective, having a soldier on your squad that does not have our normal powers grants you something no one else has: utility.” Hawkins answered, standing and turning to the door. “The captain already said it, but I’m going to say it again. You need to be better than me, better than all of us old-timers who can’t see anything but an enemy in those silver eyes. I expect you’ll treat him with the same respect you gave Ortiz, and that you’ll defend him from small-minded people like me.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, the old man, frozen in time by the same power that made him a soldier, walked out, bringing the memories with him. There was nothing left to say. Either his soldiers made him proud by overcoming a prejudice that even he couldn’t overcome, or this experiment would fail and humanity would forever be a solitary species with no hope of becoming something more.