A battle can be seen waging across an orange desert world. Large fuel stations the size of skyscrapers are littered across the land, with a consistent thumping of machinery forcing fuel from the planet's crust into massive tanks.
Starships from small corvettes and fighters, to battleship behemoths, cover the sky laying the ground below in darkness. Flashes of lights from gunfire and explosions give the few ground forces the ability to see who they are fighting; Who is friend, and who is foe.
Suddenly, blaring alarms can be heard across the planet. IMC warnings blast from speakers within and outside of facilities. Ships begin to jump out of orbit into the depths of space, leaving stranded men and women on the ground desperately running towards cliffs, hoping to jump into safety.
The blasted Militia... Had set almost all reactors across the planet to detonate. Total annihilation on a global scale.
Through all the panic from both the IMC and Militia, a single man wearing both the Insignia of a Lieutenant and that of a pilot of the IMC, can be seen radioing something to a small fleet of ships that remains in orbit.
" Get down here damnit! We have hundreds of men and women down here that have homes to return to! They don't need to sacrifice themselves for a losing battle! "
The man screams into the radio, punching a wall beside him in frustration and anguish.
As the man rages into his radio, explosions can be heard and seen all around him in the distance, as minor reactors begin to enter meltdown. Buildings and the ground around them for kilometers disappear into molten slag.
Dropships can also be seen desperately trying to escape the fiery blast of the reactors, only to be caught and sent plummeting into the ground below, joining the molten slag they tried to escape from.
As destruction reigns all around the pilot and his fellow IMC, a response comes from the radio. A monotone and robotic voice comes from the other end as the pilot watches what is happening around him.
" . . . Understood, Lieutenant. We are sending a large group of dropships to your location as I speak. We can only save an estimated 120~ soldiers. I am sorry to say, but due to my programming, only the pilots and senior ranking marines have been selected. "
Hearing the response, the pilot drops the radio and stomps on it. Sparks and wiring peaking out from the broken metal casing as he does so.
" God damnit! " The pilot screams into the air, and he continues stomping on the broken radio. All the built-up frustration from the battle and knowing the number of unnecessary losses being sent unto the radio.
As he crashes his foot down on the radio, the loud thunders of dropships exiting out of their jumps from orbit can be heard. Looking up into the sky, twenty-three dropships can be seen descending towards him. The cheers of marines and pilots can be heard as they do so.
Continuing their descent, a reactor detonates nearby, smoldering metal striking a dropship, flying out of control, and crashing into another two dropships that were flying nearby.
Twenty dropships remain as they fly down to the ground and hover, as M.R.V.Ns help pilots and high-ranking marines into the dropships. One by one, the dropships fill up to capacity and begin to jump back into the depths of space and dock with the strike group.
The pilot realizing time is running out, runs on walls and jumps into a nearby dropship, moments before the bay-door shuts, and begins to ascend to jump.
As the dropship ascends, the sounds of large explosions outside can be heard as reactors can no longer withstand the pressure of detonating fuel. Fiery explosions get closer and closer to one of the primary reactors below, before it jumps into the atmosphere and docks with a nearby Vanguard-class ship.
From below, more dropships can be seen exiting from the strike fleet and entering orbit, before communication can be heard from all comm channels.
" Executing command override. Evacuation dropships - cancelled. "
Upon that order being declared, the dropships begin to return back to the fleet. As they do so, explosions can be seen getting closer and closer to the primary fuel reactor.
All goes silent as the explosions cease, leaving only the smoldering dead planet. No one dares to make a noise in preparation for the final detonation.
As expected, a massive explosion detonates from the primary reactor. Debris from the planet flies off into space towards the fleet. Realizing what is about to happen, personnel across all vessels begin to panic. All of them flee in the direction of escape pods or remain within the dropships in preparation for what may happen.
As the panic ensues, a loud voice echoes across the ships from speakers laid throughout.
" Emergency jump commencing. "
" 3... "
" 2... "
" 1 .. "
" Beginning emergency jump! "
Soon as the countdown completes, space begins to distort outside the portholes of the fleet as they begin to enter warp. As they enter warp, debris begins to strike the fleet.
" We've been hit! "
" Debris has hit the reactor! Everyone to the esca-- "
Explosions occur throughout the fleet. Ships crashing into each other or detonating from damaged reactors. Escape pods can be seen being released from the ships, either crashing into the hangars of nearby ships that haven't been damaged, or being crushed between debris as they fly between ships.
The jump drives finally complete the process, and the space around the ships within the fleet causes them to extend, before contracting and disappearing completely into the depths of space.
From within an IMC Carrier, the flagship of the strike group of the fleet, medics can be seen running through halls as they carry stretches, and IMC marines helping each other stand.
" What the hell happened?! " An IMC officer screams from within the helm of the flagship. Their face can be seen taking on a shade of red, and their eyes bulging in anger.
" Critical damage was detected throughout the hull of the ship, and the jump drive suffered minor damage due to the debris caused by the detonation of the reactors, sir. " Responds a crew member sitting at a control center within the helm, as they probe through multiple screens flashing in red lights with text showing damage reports across the screens.
" . . . How long until we exit the jump? And... What are the casualties? " The officer asks in return, sounding exasperated and tired.
The crewman looks back at the screen, before typing away at a keyboard. A new screen appears with a long list, some clear while others are flashing yellow or red.
" Uhm... Of our seven ships from the strike group... We lost four ships: One destroyer, two Vanguard-class corvettes, and a support ship. Of what is left... We have our ship, the carrier. Two IMC Frigates, and a single Vanguard-class corvette. "
Hearing the report, the officer frowns, before looking back up as the crewman continues listing the casualties.
" From the battle... Of our total of two thousand marines, and one-hundred pilots... We lost one-thousand, four hundred, and fifty-two marines, and sixty pilots. Of the sixty pilots, we lost around ninety titans. Most of them were Atlas-class, although we did lose fifteen Ogre-class, and around eleven Styders... "
" I am sorry for the losses, Sir. " With that, the crewman completes the report and returns to typing away at the keyboard.
Silence goes throughout the helm as some of the crew can be seen holding back tears as they continue working at their stations. The officer at the head of the helm slams his fist on the metal railing as he mumbles to himself.
With the conclusion of the casualties, the officer then collapses into his seat as he stares out the window towards the space distorting around the ship, wondering how he is going to explain all the losses of the battle to the politicians on Earth, and the family who are still receiving old messages from their loved ones as they finished their journey through space.
______________________
At another end of the ship, a pilot can be seen polishing the chassis of an Ogre-class Titan. The pilot is none other than Aryan Miller, the Lieutenant who demanded the extraction from the dying planet. And his Titan, BRT-1931.
Aryan Miller had originally joined the IMC Marines six years before what would be called the 'Battle of Demeter'. He joined upon his graduation from high school on a colony near the homeworld of Earth.
Following two years of service, and reaching the rank of Sergeant from combat promotions in the field. AKA, his superiors either died in combat, or were sent back home to Earth for rewards they didn't deserve... Propaganda, essentially.
IMC was losing political footing on Earth and needed to show they had some merit in winning the war on the frontier with the so-called 'Militia'. And to show that, they sent his superiors back to Earth for promotions from the actions of their squadmates.
Carrying on. Following his promotion to Sergeant, he went on to apply to become a 'pilot', one of the most prestigious roles within the IMC military. Operating a Titan on the battlefield to act as both the sword and shield for their operations.
Following his twentieth birthday, he was accepted into an academy for pilots, and graduated at the lower end of his class a year later, only a few weeks after his twenty-first.
Yet, a pilot is a pilot. Even the worst would be the equivalent of two squads of IMC Marines. Thus the reasoning they were so valuable. Some enhanced through chemicals and small augmentations, while the majority were simply given better training and superior equipment.
Aryan Miller was a combination of both. Given minor augmentations to improve the processing speed of his brain, and to improve his capability of handling extreme pressures from orbital drops. While chemical augmentations were given to improve bone density and muscle strength.
If anything, he would have related it to the old video games of the twenty-first century. The 'Halo' series. Heck, the Spartans were the inspiration for it all! But like anything fictional, they couldn't really create anything like the spartans or their enhancements, and only made rough copies of what they desired to make.
I digress. Following his certification as a pilot, he was given his personal Titan and A.I like all other pilots of the IMC.
'BRT-1931' was his designation, although Aryan called him 'Brute'. Made sense considering BRT-1931 was an Ogre titan. Behemoths among the Titans. Standing at a height of eight to ten meters, while the other Titan variants averaged between 7 meters and 8 meters. They were the true juggernauts of the battlefield.
Years passed after his certification as a pilot, until he reached the rank of 'Lieutenant' at the age of twenty-four. His promotion was only a few weeks before the 'Battle of Demeter', due to his superior officer being shot during an ambush by the Militia.
As the next in command, and the lack of reinforcements from the core systems to the Frontier, he was promoted to Lieutenant to lead other Pilots and strike teams of IMC Marines against the Militia.
All of that now leads up to where he is now... Polishing his own personal war machine after witnessing the annihilation of thousands of people in an instant. He himself barely surviving the battle.
" Well then, Brute. How's the polish? " Aryan asks BRT-1931 as he puts away the cloth and kicks a bucket away.
[ It is fine, pilot. ] BRT-1931 responds.
" Come on, Brute. You can just call me Aryan! We've been together for how long now? four - almost five years now? " Aryan responds in a playful yet also annoyed tone.
[ Understood... Aryan. ] BRT-1931 responds, with a slight pause.
As BRT-1931 and Aryan talk, the swish of a door on the other end of the Titan-bay opens, and out comes an IMC Marine as they stand at attention and give a salute.
" Sir! Colonel Mc'grager and Commander Reinson are requesting your presence at the helm, Sir! " Yells the IMC Marine.
" Understood. At ease. You can return and tell them I'll be on my way. " Aryan responds, returning the salute.
" Yes, Sir! " The IMC Marine yells back, before lowing his salute and running back out of the Titan-bay.
Noting the IMC Marine had left, Aryan looks back at BRT-1931 and exclaims " Guess I'm leaving earlier than expected Brute. See you later. "
[ Understood, Pi - Aryan. ] BRT-1931 responds with a correction, as it stands and walks towards the other Titans hooked into the Titan-bay, a loud thump with each step as it does so.
With that, Aryan exits the Titan-bay and makes his way towards the Helm. Going through halls and up stairways, he eventually enters the helm before standing at attention and saluting.
" Lieutenant Miller, here as requested, Sir! " Aryan yells towards two figures.
The figure on the left is a tall burly man with greying hair, wearing the armor of a Pilot with a red scarf wrapped around their neck, and holding a helmet under their arm. This was none other than Major Mc'graver.
" At ease, Lieutenant. We called you here amongst a few other senior-ranking pilots. You can sit there while we wait. " He says as he points towards a table with chairs surrounding it in a semi-circle.
The other figure can be seen sitting at the head of the helm. This was none other than the officer that received the casualty report following their entrance into the jump. They can be seen wearing a dark blue uniform, reminiscent of the old uniforms of the United States, which had disbanded following the creation of the United Earth government.
" Yes, welcome Lieutenant. We will begin once the others arrive. " The officer says without looking at the Lieutenant, and focusing on the series of control panels ahead of him.
And with that, the meeting for the debriefing of the 'Battle of Demeter' is set to begin. Little do they all know, the catastrophic damage to the jump drives prior to their jump had cast off their destination by an incredible margin. How will they react upon discovering their destination? Will they be hostile, or will they try to enact contact? We will see it in the next chapter!