The Book of Ion: Chapter 1
“What I remember about the First Battle of the Creek... is how quiet it was. During the beginning hours of the Second Galactic war, the 50th Helldiver Battalion was transferred back to Malevelon Creek… It was a silent trip, not a word was spoken as we came out of Lightspeed, the enemy at our doorstep and already bombarding the planet. Only the clanging of alarms and the priming of our fleet's cannons. We all knew what would happen if we lost. Did we have any doubts? Any private traitorous thoughts? Perhaps, but no one said a word, simply stepped into their hellpods as we dived to save our world."
— Major Henry Callahan, Commander of the 50th Helldiver Marines
Malevelon Creek: February 27th, 2184
The void of space was beautiful, the stars twinkling in the background around the Super destroyer as it hovered above the blue and purple planet below. Malevelon Creek was like a jewel in the void, a shining marble in the vast limbo. This is what General David thought right before the viewport flashed with the explosion of another of his fleet's super destroyers. “Status report,” he barked, turning back to the front viewport and staring at the armada the Automoton scum had amassed to destroy their homeworld.
“General,” One of the ensigns shouted from across the command deck. We’ve lost half the fleet; only 7 ships remain, and our shields are down by 25%. The bot dreadnoughts nearly doubled our original fleet, and they’re taking advantage of it. Our ground forces are reporting massive casualties. I fear the battle may be lost unless our reinforcements come soon.” The General stared down at his command console, eyeing the message that had been sent from the 42nd battalion. While their commander had messaged him that they were on the way, he was now receiving reports from command that the bots had sent out a multi-pronged attack and had taken Mort, cutting off supply chains and FTL jumps from that direction.
He grit his teeth as he came to a dark realization. Their only hope of reinforcements was that Commander Jensen of the 42nd would receive the news and could redirect their jump paths in time. However, at the rate they were losing Super Destroyers, he doubted they would. With this in mind, he barked an order to his men. “Send word to all remaining ships, Full power to shields, deploy ALL helldiver pods, order ground forces to retreat from the main battle, and set up an FOB in the jungles. Get our Eagles and Pelicans to begin launching. I want all Pelicans loaded to their maximum carry weight, with extra supply and fuel crates. As soon as the ground commander signals a potential FOB, send all resupply pods and support weapons to their location.” He sighed and straightened his uniform. “I’ll be in my ready room; alert me when all preparations have been completed.” With this, he turned and left the command deck, his heart thumping in his chest as he steeled himself for what was to come.
Upon entering the room, he would begin grabbing his personal weapons and armor and quickly strapping them on. Setting his helmet aside, he would go to his personal video comm and press a few keys. After a few rings, the video screen would activate, showing the battle-stained face of his son, Henry. “Father?” He asked. “Why are you calling? You already sent out the orders to pull back and establish an FOB.” David sighed and took a long look at his son's face, proud of him for having followed in his footsteps and joining the Helldivers. “Captain Callahan, you are being given command of what remains of the 50th Helldiver fleet. You are being issued all remaining supplies, ground forces, and what remains of our air capabilities to assist you in maintaining your presence on this planet. Your mission is to survive and wait for reinforcements from High Command, is that understood?” Understanding seemed to register in Henry's eyes as he straightened a bit and saluted the General. “Yes sir, understood, sir”
David smiled to himself as he noted his boy's resolve to keep his emotions out of his voice as he acknowledged his orders. “Very well, I am also assigning Private Callahan to your personal squad; is that understood?” Henry's eyes widened with a mixture of fear and relief. “He is on the planet already, sir?” David shook his head. “Not yet; however, he will be sent down in the first wave. Protect him, boy, he is the future of our family and for Democracy itself.” His smile widened with pride as his son saluted again, stiffening as he did. “You have your orders…. Major” He pressed a few buttons, officializing his son's promotion as he stood back up and turned towards the door, cape flowing lightly behind him. “I’m out of time, good luck… son, may democracy guide your step. Without another word, he walked out, missing his son's quiet goodbye before the comm shut off.
General Callahan stormed onto the bridge in full boarding gear, helmet under his arm as he looked around. The battle was still in dire straits, while they had taken out their fair share of dreadnoughts, there were still twelve left to their seven, and from the looks of it, the shields were starting to fail. He pressed a few buttons, checking to see how many elite units they had remaining. There were only ten squads remaining, a measly 40 helldivers. Not nearly enough to accomplish what he wished to, however, with a bit of improvising, he could make it work. With a few strokes of his screen, he resigned one of the elites to be sent to the ground to assist with preparations. The rest were defrosted and informed to await orders.
"Are all preparations made?” The same ensign from before nodded, “Yes, sir, all ships are loaded and ready.” Callahan nodded and gestured to the screen where a pulsing blue light had appeared. “The Major has found an FOB and begun the operation with a small change. Get our Marine squads ready for spacial boarding, I will be joining them. Prepare all hellpods with supply packs, extra thermite grenades, extra ammo, a weapon of their choice, and as many EATs as we can fit around a helldiver's body.” The ensign ran off to ensure the orders were fulfilled, and Callahan took a moment to observe the battlefield, eyeing the enemy ships with disgust as his hands began to fly across the command comms screen, triangulating which ships would be the weakest when put under bombardment.
As the ensign returned, Callahan would leave the comm, walking up to the dive pods as he was joined by 3 helldivers, each a veteran of the first galactic war as he had been. “Our mission is simple, gents: we go in, destroy as much as possible, and die for our freedom. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?” “SIR, YES, SIR.” The 3 Helldiver Marines chorused; they had been briefed on the way up, as had the other squads in the other super destroyers. All of whom were now loading their own weapons and gear as they prepared to dive for the final time.
The General waited until the other divers had stepped into their pods before turning to address the bridge crew. “I have primary targets labeled for weapon systems, upon completion of our dive, half the ships will target all known enemy ground locations and the other half shall target the 3 ships we will not be able to dive upon and commence bombardment, I want all safeguards removed and shields lowered to ensure full power to weapons.” The crew stiffened as they realized what this would mean for their survival, however he was proud to note that not one raised a complaint, they simply turned back to their comms and did as ordered. He would turn to his comm and pressed a button, turning on the mic as he gave his last message to his troops.
“Men and Women of the 50th Helldiver Fleet, today is a day where darkness has fallen upon us, a day where the light of liberty is at its most perilous. However, that does not mean we can simply stand aside and ignore our duties. Today, we do not fight for comfort. We do not fight for ourselves. We fight for Super Earth, for Managed Democracy, and for every citizen still on the planet that is desperately waiting on us to free them. The galaxy is dark, filled with bugs, bots, and tyranny, but where others see impossible odds, Helldivers see purpose. We are the spearhead of freedom. We are the shield of humanity. We are the fire that burns back the darkness. Every drop pod launched, every objective secured, every sacrifice made sends a message to our enemies: Super Earth will not fall. There will be chaos. There will be casualties. There will be overwhelming odds. But we were never chosen because this would be easy. We were chosen because when freedom calls, we will answer with steel, courage, and overwhelming firepower. Fight for the diver beside you. Fight for the mission. Fight for the glory of spreading democracy across the stars. So lock in, drop hard, and show this galaxy what liberty looks like.
For Super Earth!
For Freedom!
For Managed Democracy!”
With those final words, he would step into his pod, putting on his helmet and activating the hermetic sealing to allow him to breathe in space. As the pod closed above him, leaving him in darkness, he heard the ship hum as the crew turned it to face its armaments towards the enemy ships. With a teeth-rattling thud, his pod was shot out, hurtling through the void towards the bot ships as cannon fire continued to fly between them. After 3 long minutes of nothing but silence and the shaking of his hellpod, he suddenly jerked forward, hitting his helmet onto the wall of his pod as it crashed into something, metal screeching outside as it tore through and eventually came to a stop.
With a hiss, the pod opened and lifted him up. All around him were pieces of shredded metal and torn wiring, sparking as they hung limply from the ceiling. He slipped on his supply pack, fastened the 2 EATS he had brought upon his back, and hoisted his machine gun. Turning around, he discovered that the bots had erected a force shield around the hole he had entered through, keeping the void of space from ripping everything in the vicinity outside of the ship. But…. Why? He reached up to his helmet and tapped its recorder, a blinking red dot appearing on the top right of his visor. “If anyone in command finds this, this is General Callahan. I have boarded an enemy vessel to cover the ground forces while they set up an FOB. Upon boarding, I have discovered that the bots use atmospheric shielding to protect themselves from breaches inside their ships. Given that the automatons do not require oxygen.. This concerns me, I will be recording as I continue to fight my way to the…” The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sounds of gunfire in the distance, followed by a bloodcurdling scream that was swiftly silenced.
Cursing to himself, Callahan pressed a couple of buttons on his comm unit, connecting with the other 3 helldivers on the mission. B2's light was dark; however, the other 2 divers were both alive and moving towards him. As they made their way closer, the 3 converged on the site of a hellpod crashed into the wall, blood was pooled around it, and there were Automoton corpses everywhere. In the center of the pile of scrap metal was B2's lifeless corpse, a railgun lying discarded to the side with a strange bend in the center of the weapon. The point of the bend had an imprint like something heavy had impacted it with a high amount of force. As they moved closer, one of the other divers turned away and gagged while the other cursed softly under his breath. B2's body had been mutilated, with stab and bullet wounds covering most of his torso and chest. But worst of all, his head seemed to have been shattered, and his chest was caved in as if the same heavy object had impacted him in the same way as his gun. As the team looked around, B2's brain matter seemed to be everywhere around him. “Look around; maybe we can find the bastards that did this to him.” The General's tone was solemn as he tried to avoid staring at the corpse for too long.
Turning to the side, he would see a trail of bloody bootprints, most of which were shaped in the usual fashion, the 2 pronged toe with the slight hooking at the end for grip. However, it seemed to him that one of the tracks was different than usual, while, like most bots, it had a 2 pronged toe, they were positioned vertically instead of diagonally and were much closer together, only 3 finger widths apart rather than a fist or more apart as was common with troopers and devastators. Making sure his visor recorded that information, he would keep silent about it, not wanting his men to focus on anything other than the mission. Standing up, he would rack his gun to ensure it was loaded and turn to the others. “Alright, men, you know why we’re here… our mission is to disable this ship or destroy it to the best of our capabilities.” The void of space behind him lit up as 5 super destroyer lasers ripped through the air into the ships they hadn’t been able to board.
“Let’s move… our fleet isn’t going to last much longer.” Turning back to the tracks, he would begin following them, crouching low to quiet his movements. The two Helldiver marines followed in suit, guns raised and slowly sweeping the area as the team moved in unison. They came across some packs of troopers; however, they simply hid and let them pass as they seemed not to realize they were there. Eventually, after much searching, they made their way to the engine room. Very few bots were there; it seemed to be mostly run autonomously. Using hand signals, Callahan signaled the others to split up and sneak to the other sides of the room. With quick and precise melee strikes, the 3 dispatched the few bots that patrolled the room and began their work. Planting thermites and grenades on the engines, they would use a thin wire to string together the ignition pins so that they could pull them all with a single tug. They worked in silence, opening their supply packs to pull out the extra grenades, which were placed in strategic locations to cause maximum damage to the engines and the ship's core. As they worked, metallic footsteps began to sound from the hallway they had entered from. With a grim look, Callahan placed his last thermite and took A3's AMR, sliding his own machine gun to the side where he would be able to reach it. “Keep working; I’ll hold the line until it’s time.
Lying down, he would take A3s AMR and aimed down the scope, lining it up to about where a hulk's head would be. Time seemed to slow for him as he waited, just lying there for any sign of enemy contact. Each breath seemed to reverberate through his body and fill his ears as he waited. Then finally, the first red lights of the bots' eyes shone through the hallway. Shifting himself, he reached out and slowly pulled the machine gun closer to himself so he could quickly swap between the 2 weapons. As the first few troopers ran into the room, he ignored them, eye on his scope, as finally, the stomping footsteps of what he assumed could only be a hulk approached the battle. It stormed into the room, rotating its body to locate the potential invaders. Behind it came 5 devastators, 3 miniguns, and 5 rockets. The patrol spread through the room, searching for the invaders on their ship. Knowing it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered, Callahan took a deep breath, lined his scope with the hulk's eye, and squeezed the trigger. Without even waiting to see if his first shot had taken, he swapped targets, going for each devastator as he targeted their heads and fired with precision. Upon downing the final one, he would stand, grabbing his Liberator rifle and firing at the troopers. However, these were a wily enemy, and one of them ran behind cover, taking out its signal gun and firing it down the hall before he could kill it.
The flare must have had some sort of signal embedded inside of it, because red alarm lights began circling on the walls and a klaxon alarm began sounding through the ship. Beyond the doors of the engine room, the sound of hundreds of metallic feet began to be heard, all running towards the engine room. David cursed and tossed A3 back his AMR. “Group up, D4 get those last explosives ready and join us, we’re taking as many of these clankers down as we can.” A3 took a position to his right, using his cover as a prop to steady his aim and began to fire down the hallway, taking out a hulk that had dared to approach them. David quickly gathered up all the ammo boxes in a pile near them and began firing as well, taking out troopers with his liberator. Unfortunately their advantage would not last, a pair of rockets flew through the now smokey air and slammed into a pipe near where Callahan was hiding, the resulting explosion flung him away, allowing troopers to close in. D4, having just finished arming the last grenade, turned around to return fire, though it was too late as a third rocket obliterated his upper torso before he even had time to draw his shotgun.
A3, seeing his comrade die in such a way, screamed in rage and began returning fire. Having run out of ammo with the AMR, he would pick up D4s, now discarded arc thrower, and began launching the deadly arcs of electricity down the hall. As Callahan slowly rode and stimmed himself, he would watch as the last member of his squad was shredded to pieces by 3 miniguns. For a moment, the battlefield was silent. Then a singular figure began its metallic stomp towards where Callahan was concealed by a boiler. Slowly shifting to peek around the wall, he froze in fear as he stared directly into the Orange eyes of a cyborg. How the hell this monstrosity was here, he had no clue. As far as he and the other fleet commanders had been told, the Borgs were still imprisoned on Cyberstan.. yet here one was. He made sure his recorder got a full view of and stood up; he knew he wasn't going to make it out of here alive, however, he would be dammed if he didn’t take this ship down with him.
The cyborg stared him down, nearly a foot taller then him as its orange eyes seemed to gleam with malicious intent. “Super Earth will burn” it spoke in broken English, its speech stilted and robotic as it slowly raised its arm, the three barreled weapon glowing as it bore down on the lone helldiver. Callahan smirked under his helmet, hand slowly reaching for his senator. “Super Earth may burn dissident… but we'll take all of you treasonous bastards with us.” His arm shot up, aiming at one of the grenades planted on the engines but the blast of the borgs scattershot sent him flying backwards, dropping his gun and slamming into a wall as he coughed up blood, coating the inside of his visor. Shakily, he stimmed himself, sighing in relief as the healing properties of the drug took over. This relief was short-lived as he was almost instantly knocked to the side by a kick from the surprisingly agile cybernetic warrior in front of him. Rolling a couple feet, he would shake his head to clear his now blurred vision. His attempt to rise was thwarted again as his helmeted head was grabbed, the visor cracking from the force of the cyborgs grip. He then was flung across the room once more, landing in the puddle that had been D4s body. He groaned in pain then paused as he felt the familiar shape of the P-4 Senator digging into his back.
Slowly, he would inject himself with another stim, his vision clearing as he glared defiantly at the oncoming cyborg. It stopped about 10 feet away from him, scattergun raised to end his life. The cyborg seemed to emit a guttural laugh from its voice receptor. “You fleshlings are weak; our loss in the war does not compute.” David's lip curled under his helmet as his hand slid behind his back and grabbed D4's senator. With one smooth movement, he would fire 3 shots into the cyborg, the first 2 merely stunned it, but the final shot burst through the radicals head, destroying it and causing it to keel over. Scrambling to his feet with some difficulty given the blood, he would race towards the fuse they had set for the bombs and wrap the end around his hand, ready to yank it. Turning, he stared at the group of bots moving in on him and raised his senator, firing the last 3 shots in the mag into the crowd and taking out a couple of devastators. This was his final act before his body was riddled with blaster bolts, as his knees gave out and his vision began to fade, he spoke 2 words past the blood that had bubbled into his mouth. “For… Democracy” as he fell, his hand, which had the wire fuse wrapped around it, pulled the pins off of the grenades they had primed all over the engine room. General David Callahans' final vision before he died was one of fire, as the ship around him exploded.
To be continued.
