The camera pans across Genesis Command HQ, deep in the heart of the fortress city. A massive war table hums at the center of a dark chamber, its surface alive with holographic projections: enemy fleets, planetary maps, casualty counts.
Around it stand General Shepherd, flanked by Admiral Ceyla Ardan and Strategos Ives. Sergeant Drill O'leath Mason stands at attention, hands clasped behind his back, his voice calm but hard.
⸻
The Briefing
General Shepherd's gravelly voice opens:
"Eryndor Prime wasn't a raid. It was the opening shot of a war. The aliens you fought — the Typonians — are not scavengers. They are an empire. Type 3.2. Their strength rivals ours in ways you wouldn't believe."
The holo-map shifts, showing the Typonian sector galaxy: thousands of red systems clustered like a malignant wound. Dozens of capital ships orbit their hive-worlds, their fleets glowing with strange blue plasma.
⸻
The Enemy Revealed
Strategos Ives gestures, the hologram zooming in on a Typonian soldier. The figure is tall, insectoid-humanoid, chitin plating fused with biometal, eyes glowing with eerie light.
Mason mutters, "We saw them up close. Fast. Brutal. Fought like they were born for war."
General Shepherd nods.
"That's because they were. Typonians are bio-forged. Every one of their soldiers is grown, bred for battle. Their bodies are living armor — dense chitin layered with metallic threads. They can take direct plasma fire and keep moving. Their weapons are fused into their biology. You're not just fighting soldiers. You're fighting weapons that breathe."
⸻
Weaknesses
The hologram flickers, highlighting key points in red.
Admiral Ardan leans forward.
"But they're not invincible. First — their sensory organs are hyper-advanced, but overloaded easily. Stun grenades, flashbangs, sonic disruptors — they fry their senses in seconds."
Ives adds, pointing to the head.
"Second, their neural cluster here — back of the skull. Strong armor, but concentrated. A direct hit can kill them instantly. Problem is, they're as good as our veteran soldiers in terms of skills on the standards, so it isn't going to be easy."
Mason grunts. "So will the Golden boys will have to earn their pay, if they're going to aid us in battle or not."
Shepherd look at mason. "The Sentinels? We don't need them. Us UNE Soldiers can handle it all on our own. Have faith in the Lord, and everything will be just alright"
General Shepherd's expression hardens.
"And third — their logistics. They breed, they forge, but they burn through resources like wildfire. We cut off supply lines, they starve."
⸻
The Warning
The holo shifts to a Typonian capital ship dwarfing entire cities. Its plasma cannon glows bright enough to scorch planets.
Shepherd's voice lowers, grim.
"Don't underestimate them. They are disciplined. They are ruthless. They are hungry. And they will not stop until humanity is ashes. The difference between us and them is not technology. It is spirit. They fight because they're bred to. We fight because we choose to. And that makes us stronger."
⸻
The Orders
The hologram zooms out, showing UNE fleets massing near the Juno star system border.
"Prepare your Marines. Once the Marines return from leave, they deploy with the 12th Expeditionary Fleet. Target: Typonian hive-world. Operation Hammerfall begins soon."
Mason's jaw clenched, but his voice was steady.
"Understood, sir. They'll be ready."
-
The war table glowed red with Typonian fleet markers. General Shepherd stood with arms folded, eyes hard, when one of the other commanders — Intelligence Director Veyra Kael — stepped forward.
Her voice was calm, precise, carrying no hesitation.
"We've already secured several Typonian combatants. Captured during the Eryndor Prime assault. They are currently held in a black-site containment facility on Rynor Station, three systems away."
The holo shifted, revealing an image of massive reinforced cells: towering insectoid warriors shackled in magnetic fields, their mandibles twitching as they screeched in rage.
⸻
No Talking
Mason frowned. "And? They talk?"
Kael shook her head.
"No. They don't need to. Their physiology rejects spoken diplomacy. They are hive-born — communication is neural, through resonance fields. Verbal speech is nothing more than mimicry to them. You could beat one half to death and it still wouldn't 'talk.'"
Shepherd raised an eyebrow. "So how do we get intel?"
⸻
The UNE Intelligence System
Kael gestured. The hologram shifted to show a neural-link machine: a chair-like construct surrounded by coils and emitters, with streams of light running into a hovering AI core.
"We don't interrogate. We extract."
She tapped the console, and the holo displayed a Typonian restrained in the device, its head encased in a crown of burning light.
"Our Intelligence System AI interfaces with their bio-neural clusters. It bypasses resistance and reads their minds directly. Every thought, every memory, every strategic command node — downloaded in seconds."
⸻
The Results
Kael's tone hardened, clinical as she listed.
"We've learned their troop breeding patterns. Their hive-world structures. Their fleet movements. Weak points in their plasma conduits. Even their command hierarchy. Everything we need."
Mason muttered under his breath, "Christ Almighty..."
Shepherd's voice was a low growl.
"So their secrets are ours. They fought with instinct. Now their instincts are betraying them."
⸻
The Warning
Kael dimmed the holo, eyes narrowing.
"But understand this — the Typonians know what we're doing. They've already begun altering their neural networks to resist further extraction. We may not get another chance to seize information this pure. We must act while we still hold the advantage."
The war table flickered again, the Typonian hive-world glowing blood-red.
Shepherd's fist slammed against the console.
"Then we don't wait. We strike first. We bring the war to them before they adapt, and force peace! To make them signed the peace treaty or we have no choice but to declare a wipeout. Operation Hammerfall isn't a retaliation. It's annihilation. Only if they don't want peace that is."
-
The war table glowed with Typonian maps and intelligence streams, but for a moment, silence hung heavy over the chamber. General Shepherd's words still lingered: Operation Hammerfall... annihilation.
Sergeant Drill O'leath Mason straightened, his weathered face calm but firm. He stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of both a Marine and a father.
"We fight them with Christ on our side."
The commanders glanced toward him. Mason didn't flinch.
"We do not fight to conquer. We do not fight to enslave. We fight to protect what God gave us — our people, our families, our home. We fight to force peace where none exists, to give the enemy a chance to stand down and sign the treaty."
He paused, his voice lowering, but iron-strong.
"But if they refuse... if they choose war above peace... then we have no choice but to wipe them out. Like Shepherd said. Not for glory. Not for conquest. But because survival demands it. Because humanity demands it."
⸻
The Council's Reaction
The room was still.
Even the hardened commanders, who lived by numbers and logistics, felt the conviction in Mason's tone. His words weren't just strategy — they were creed.
General Shepherd's eyes narrowed, then softened slightly. He gave a small nod.
"Well said, Mason. And let no Marine forget it."
Director Kael, cold and clinical, tilted her head but offered no objection. Even she understood — war without purpose is just slaughter.
⸻
The Final Word
Mason clasped his hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the red hive-world glowing on the table.
"God bless our Marines. God bless UNE. And may the Lord give us strength when the storm breaks."
The council chamber fell into silence again — not one of fear, but one of resolve.
Above them, the stars waited.
And soon, so would war.
-
The war table dimmed. The Typonian hive-world holo shrank, replaced by a new projection: a frozen wasteland world, its atmosphere swirling with ice storms, temperatures plummeting to near-death levels.
Commander Ardan stepped forward, her voice calm but sharp.
"We've already moved. Two of our UNE Elites — Hudson and Hunter — have been deployed to Typonian territory. Their target: a forward operating base hidden beneath the glaciers of Xeros IV, a frozen planet on the edge of their sector."
The hologram zoomed in: a massive Typonian facility buried deep in ice caverns, glowing with eerie blue veins of energy. Watchtowers and sentry beasts patrolled the perimeter.
⸻
The Briefing
General Shepherd crossed his arms, voice gravelly.
"Hudson and Hunter don't need a squad. Don't need a fleet. Two men are enough. Silent entry. Silent kill. This isn't about wiping them out — it's about eyes on target. Intel first, bullets second."
The holo shifted, showing the two Marines:
• Hudson — tall, broad, clad in heavy stealth white armor with a white cloak covering their upper body and head, visor glowing blue. A ghost on the battlefield, his specialty was infiltration and silent takedowns.
• Hunter — leaner, built like a blade. His AI helmet glowing blue, his rifle modified for long-range precision. Same armor as Hudson and cloak too. Hunter the UNE's best sharpshooter.
"Hudson and Hunter know the risks. They'll operate alone. But if anyone can ghost through a Typonian base, it's them."
⸻
The Scene
Cutscene visuals roll
• A UNE stealth dropship slicing silently through the clouds of a frozen storm, snow whipping across its black hull.
• Inside, Hudson checks the slide of his suppressed rifle, Hunter calibrates his scope, both calm, both unshaken.
• Their helmets glow faintly in the dark.
The pilot's voice comes through the comms:
"One minute to drop. Temp's at minus eighty. Storm cover's holding. They won't see you coming."
Hunter says under his visor. "They'll never hear us either."
Hudson chambers a round, voice low and steady:
"Silent in. Silent out."
⸻
The Mission
The dropship banks low, slicing through a canyon of ice.
Snow whirls across the screen. Black fades to white.
A single line of text slams onto the screen in bold, military type:
OPERATION SILENT DAGGER – XEROS IV – CLASSIFIED
—————————
To be continued...