Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

<===============================>
Distress Signal
Aleph-kappa-78A4B,
Author (verified)
LNDK-Patience-Evergreen-00,
Transmission is intact and whole,
Content follows
“This is colony administrator Patience,
broadcasting to all available parties
on behalf of Landmark Colonial.

Evergreen colony is under attack by
advanced forces, fielding directed energy
weaponry, and mechanized chassis. We
have suffered 14 casualties so far.
We are overmatched, and request military
support.

Full details on the objectives and
requirements, as well as the
presumed origin of the raiders
to follow this transmission.

All interested parties contact
Landmark Colonial Contracting Dept.”
<===============================>
Union Navy 11th Fleet (ANNAMITE LINE)
Responding to distress signal
Aleph-kappa-78A4B,
Reports dispatch of Peacekeeper unit
“Sequoia-Bravo-79549”,
Consisting of
5 Dismounted Pilots,
Proceeding under Landmark Colonial
Union Intervention Standard Contract
(assent assumed),
With anticipated transit period of
34 days Evergreen Standard Time.
<===============================>
Author (verified)
LNDK-Patience-Evergreen-00,
Transmission is intact and whole,
Content follows
“Patience accepts on behalf of
Landmark Colonial Contracting Dept.
No other contractor need apply.”
<===============================>
Union Aux. Peacekeeper unit:
“Sequoia-Bravo-79549”,
Stationed on Civilian Freighter
“Comfort”,
Responding to distress signal
Aleph-kappa-78A4B,
Reports expected arrival within
3 days (Evergreen Standard Time).
<===============================>

The planet had split off from it’s star and over the previous days it had grown to be the cloudy wall that filled the horizon. Patched with greenery and cracked dead sections, Hercynia looks almost mangy under the thick cloud cover. Sequoia-Bravo squad sprawls across the observation deck, staring out at it. Ensign Sidram tugs at the collar of his flight suit. It’s not uncomfortable per se, but after the relaxation of dress code on the month long flight, it’s a marked contrast. He steps up to the window, and turns, silhouetted before the theater of operations.
“We’ve arrived in the Hercynia system, and should be touching down this time tomorrow. Our mission brief is to secure the colony, capture and disarm these alleged bandits, and make sure that Union law is preserved. Nothing significant changed from the initial briefing.” He sighs, rubs at his temple, and then continues.
“However, there’s a complication of course. How many of you actually watched the history documentary I shared?”
All but Lee raise their hands.
“That wasn’t just local color.” Sidram says, and starts ticking off points on his fingers while looking at Lee. She looks a little embarrassed, but pays attention.
“First confirmed alien sentience, funny looking moth beetles. Some sort of spooky hivemind structure. First contact went south, and the second committee burned the world down.”
Sidram says, and shakes his head.
“That was kind of their last act. The backlash from having killed the only other sentience we’ve found sparked riots, and eventually the coup that brought us to third committee. It’s pretty foundational to pretty much everything Union does now.”
Sidram shrugs, the mood sombre. When he continues, he speaks briskly, chivvying everyone back to the briefing.
“It’s old history, centuries old, but there’s some historical baggage we have to be aware of on this mission, because the local administrative NHP thinks that the bugs are back.”
Lee flicks something from her terminal up onto the window, and a flat triangular head, with two large compound eyes stares back at them. Two sets of smaller eyes, like stylized tears nestle under it. The mouth parts are folded neatly away, and two thickly furred antennae pass out of the frame. In stark yellow block letters the word “Egregore” is splashed across the bottom third. The projection wavers, updating to maintain contrast against the changing surface of Hercynia beyond.

“Artists rendition” Lee adds, looking down at the slate in her hand. “But based on real data.”
“It’s the freakin cover art for the documentary.” Ash quips, shaking his head and leaning back into the couch seats. “There was some messed up shit on that.” He looks back at Sidram, and directly.
“Do you think the bugs are back?”
Sidram opens his mouth, closes it and then shrugs. “If they are back, this is way above our paygrade. Personally, I think this is corprolitica shit. Landmark Colonial really wants this colony to succeed, they’ve sunk a lot of manna into it.”
He dismisses the image with a flick of his hand, and then straightens his collar.
“Best way to mess up the colony image to rake up the past. We aren’t here to play political games, so we aren’t going to say a word about what we see, unless it’s cleared up the chain. Full hostile theater information discipline, outward only.”
There’s a collective groan at that, but no one actually speaks up. Sidram inwardly smiles. His squad was good, they might complain and sometimes Ash or Lee would get too casual, but they did what needed to be done.
“Final notes, we are under Landmark Colonial/Union intervention contract. We report to administrative NHP planetside. There’s an escape clause in there, but I don’t want to have to use it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir.” comes a ragged chorus. Sidram straightens to attention, and the squad scrambles to their feet. “Meet in the hangar at 0500 tomorrow, everything packed out. Squad dismissed.” They all snap off a salute and start to file out, Sidram calling after the last one. “Oh and Lee? Watch the documentary let’s stay on the same page.”
Lee looks back and nods, before leaving Sidram to watch over Hercynia as it turns.

Chapter Text

The shudder that runs through the airframe jolts everyone back in their harnesses, and the comm clicks on.
“Buckle up, got trash.”
The pilot clicks off before anyone can ask questions, and the engines kick in with a dull thump. Every slews sideways in their seats under the acceleration, and then rocks back. A minute later the engine dies back, and Lee unwraps her hand from the grabstrap. Outside the narrow porthole opposite her, the black of space pales into the blue of the atmosphere, distant clouds still far below. Something twinkles against the void, orbital debris of some form. Craning her neck she can make out rushing black specs against the cloud system below.
Only occasional rifts in the clouds show patches of green, or vivid blue water. A few minutes later, the airframe begins to tremble as they start aerobraking, everyone pressed back down into their seats. Lee feels like a frame is pushing down on her chest, but she breathes slowly and deeply, and pumps the muscles in her legs like she was taught.
She glances over, and sees Ash gritting his teeth. Clicks the comms to personal and subtexts him. “You good.”
He glances over, gives a curt nod. “Always hate unpowered drops.”
“Nobody's favorite.”
Still looking pained, he gives a small nod towards Yang, who is sitting on his other side. She has a faint smile on her lips, staring out the same Window lee had been looking at. The cloudscape beyond is obscured by the hot flicker of the shockwave, and Lee shifts her feet on the floor nervously. Nobodies like aerobrake descents. Except maybe Yang, but someone could break her nose, and she’d say it made her look adventurous and thank them for it. Ash would heckle her every now and again, try and see if there she’d ever not find a bright side. It hadn’t worked so far, and just left Ash shaking his head.
The pilot on the comms chimes in as the pressure finally eases, the engines smoothly spooling up to transition into flight. The nose tips down and the comms squawk to life. “Welcome ladies and gentleman, to Hercynia. We’ll be touching down in ten, it’s a fucking sauna out there. Local administrator has sent a welcoming committee, and it’s personal welcome.” The comms click off, and Sidram sits up straighter.
“Okay squad, it’s time to get to work. Sledge, take Ash and the mule. Sunny, Tramp, keep your eyes open. I’ll be speaking with them, but I want you two paying attention to the others in the room. If this is corpropolitical, someone’s gonna be in on it.” He makes eye contact with each in turn. Strackhov gives him a small salute, Yang an exaggerated one with a big grin. Ash just nods and rubs at his chest under the harness strap. Lee just nods, once at Sidram and the other at Strakhov.
The light dims as finally they enter the cloud layer, before suddenly, emerald green stretches out in all directions. Occasionally rocky mounts break the tree layer, growing more frequent until an actual mountain range. Even on the distant flanks, the jungle finds purchase. A glint of light off of a river, and then the pilot banks, and a landing strip hewn from the jungle comes into view.
A minute later, and the shuttle thumps once, twice, and then settles. The engine dies, and the back ramp rattles open, warm moist air flooding in with the light. Even through an overcast sky, Hercynia is vivid. Strackhov pops her harness, breathes deeply, and nods. “Greenhouse world. Feel that oxygen content.”
“It’s a lot higher than standard for sure.” Yang says, pulling her pack up and clipping onto her rig. Ash nods, and then mutters. “Welcoming committee at four o clock.”
From the far end of the rough dirt runway comes a group of six, in faded orange ponchos with sky blue trim. Lee recognizes the uniforms at least from the mission brief, Landmark Colonial Militia. One, walking ahead of the others puts her hand to her mouth and calls. “You lot the pilots?”
“Who else?” Lee mutters, as Sidram steps down onto the ramp.
“That would be us.”
The distant figure breaks into a light jog, and makes a stay put gesture, glancing over her shoulder. A moment later, her squad and her are in speaking distance.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s been a sniper harrying us, we shouldn’t stay out in the open for long.” She puts a foot on the ramp, slings her long rifle across her hip, and holds out a hand. “Name’s Brava Hadura, commander of the militia here. Glad you’ve finally arrived.” She glances over the squad, and Lee meets her gaze, trying not to fidget. Hadura has two braids framing a boxers jaw, and tired brown-black eyes.
Brava and her group seem kitted out for it, light helmets and body armor. Civilian, or at least militia grade. Probably the top of the line for this place. The rifle looks freshly printed, no more than a week worth of dings. The ponchos and the uniforms underneath however, show both wear and care. Lee tunes back in, in time to hear Sidram finish asking “for how long?”
“First time it picked a target in Evergreen was about two- no, three weeks ago. it’s really settled in. ”
She glances out at the breathing jungle that encroaches on the battered airstrip. She doesn’t look back at first. “It’s the bugs. The Egregorians are back, I’ve seen them myself, lurking in the dark. They’ve infested this world again.” She stops scanning the shrubbery and looks back, a savage smile on her face.
“But that’s what your here for. Come on, Evergreens two and a half clicks upriver, and we don’t want to be sitting on our asses.” She steps down from the ramp. “Up, up, kick up and let’s get moving.” She calls, swinging the rifle back to ready position, as her militia fan back out from the shelter of the shuttle wings. Brava steps out to follow them, not looking back as she adds.
“The cavalry’s here at last.”
Lee, helping navigate the mule down the ramp hear Sidram patch through to the pilot, and murmur. “You’d best not stay the night. Get back to the Comfort, and we’ll see you this time next year.”
Lee glances around, at the patch of clear sky allowed by the buckled runway, and the looming jungle. The thick warm air, and breathing jungle. It wouldn’t be the worst place to spend a year. There’s a job to do first though, and it starts with getting to the base of operations. Actually it started with getting the mule loaded. She tries not to think about what she’s turning her back on in the jungle.