Prolog
TDF HIGH COMMAND BRIEFING ROOM – TERRA ORBIT, SOL SYSTEM – 2147
The holo-table hummed with sterile blue light, projecting Xerion Prime’s crimson surface like a fresh wound. Admiral Marcus Hale loomed over the display, his uniform bearing the eagle-and-stars of the Terran Republic. His face, etched with the experience of nrsrly two centuries of service, was grim.
Lieutenant Elara Voss stood rigid in her Void Trooper exosuit, dark matte armor scarred from a dozen ops. Beside her, First Sergeant Jax Renn, her second-in-command, mirrored her stance—both elite shadows of the TDF, products of a Republic that spanned twenty-six systems and boasted a population exceeding twenty-three trillion.
“Xerion Prime mining colony,” Hale growled, swiping the holo. Grainy drone footage played: reptilian shadows erupting from seismic fissures, laser fire carving through hab-domes. Miners—gone. “Unknown xeno force. Recordings show they attack with brutal efficiency. No survivors left, no bodies observed from scans. Just… gone. This is our first contact. Congress demands answers.”
Voss nodded. “Mission parameters, sir?”
“Rescue any holdouts. Intel priority: xeno tactics, numbers, tech. Void Troopers, you are the tip of the spear. You’re the elite. You’re our secret blade.You are to et eyes on, get out, and report back. Am i understood?”
Voss and jax replied inunison “YES SIR!”
Jax’s gauntlet clenched. “Seismic activity?”
Hale’s jaw tightened. “Off the charts. Something’s moving underground. Dismissed.”
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TDF DROPSHIP VANGUARD CLASS- XERION PRIME APPROACH – 30 MINUTES LATER
The squad bay rattled as the Vanguard punched atmosphere, 12 Void Troopers strapped in—hulking silhouettes of sharp-angled heavy plating, full-face solid-metal helmets sweeping back into tactical voids. Voss stood at the holo-map, Jax at her side.
“Listen up,” Voss barked. “Xerion Prime: four structures ringside a drilling rig. HQ, residential, workspaces, warehouse. Colony’s dark—no comms, no life signs. Signs of fighting: scorch marks, breaches. We set down outside perimeter, sweep methodically. Primary: survivors. Secondary: xeno intel. Jax, you’re seismic lead.”
Jax synced his tac-pad. “Readings spiking pre-drop, Sarge. Not quakes. They seem deliberate. As if something is moving around down there.”
“Touchdown in 60. Lock and load.”
