So I whipped up this quick site to bolster my online presence and to force me to write more. So enjoy! (or if necessary, mock incessantly and bring up 30 years from now when I’m running for mayor of something). I just wanted to start writing but didn’t want to get caught up with brainstorming proper nouns, so ignore the generic names and places and enjoy a more rambling, more fictional blog post than usual!
Proto opened his eyes and saw sky. This was quite unexpected but it made him happy regardless. His mouth tasted like plastic, which meant his armor had administered a drug but he couldn’t remember which one. He was issued a special ops combat suit before the mission start and both operatives had scoffed at it. This was supposed to be an easy one. Make contact with the VIP, verify they had the data intel, extract them. Easy peasy.
He lifted his head to take a look around which made the HUD in his helmet light up. Location: Unknown. Temperature: 27F. He was laying in snow covered field scattered with smoking debris. He tried to move his right leg and felt hot fire shoot up his leg. “Warning: Medical attention required” flashed in bold red letters on the bottom of his helmet. Painkillers = Plastic, as the image of that in the instructor’s sloppy handwriting plastered on a whiteboard from just 6 months ago came back from a deep recess of his mind. He sat up while instructing his suit to do a medscan. The HUD interacted mostly via scanning his retina’s movement, anything more advanced required using the brain-chip. This was only Proto’s 2nd time using a combat suit other than in basic training many years ago. He was a veteran intelligence analyst of over 15 years, but the past 14.8 of those years had been behind a desk with minimal field work. And the combat suits he trained in 15 years ago were large bulky things, the one he was wearing now laid comfortably underneath his clothes, waiting for his brain-chip command to spring out and cover his hands and face. Or would have fit over his clothes, a quick look revealed only smooth black metal, apparently his clothes has suffered the same fate as the burning debris all around him. “Diagnosis Complete: Severe fracture of right Tibia, 2 sprained ribs on the left and multiple suit fractures” His HUD gave him an overview of his body, noting the broken bones in red and about a dozen holes dotting his suit. He did a quick tech diagnosis and the armor around his leg seemed to be intact. Using the brain-chip he instructed the armor to support the broken leg and slowly got to his feet.
It was supposed to be easy. Intelligence had a deep cover asset stationed in Astro station. Rumors were swirling that something big was happening and they wanted the asset out. Since Astro Station was stationed so deep in Coalition space, the asset couldn’t risk sending data over Coalition controlled networks so would he would do physical data drops every year or so when he traveled. It had been over a year and a half and he was long overdue. Astro Station was the main hub for various criminal and terrorist organizations, as well as home to both a Coalition embassy and intelligence office. Having foreign intelligence assets there was a violation of about 6 treaties, but Military Intelligence couldn’t pass the opportunity, hence the deep cover of this particular asset.
The asset had been stationed at Astro Station almost 5 years. Proto and the other operative didn’t even know his name, which is how these things often went. Proto was traveling with Vets, who had 10 years of experience over him and had spent his time pre-intelligence as a Marine. Vets was a great intelligence officer and semi-famous if you were in the correct circles. There were rumblings that he had been a part of the Onassi assassination but no one knew for sure. What they did know about Vets is that he was a highly decorated soldier in the Blackfield campaign before coming over to Military Intelligence.
Proto and Vets had taken a slew of PubTrans shuttles eventually ending up in Astro station fairly confident that they were alone. Intel loaded up a shipping container with their transport and gear and shipped it here weeks ago, that was their first stop after disembarking their shuttle. They grabbed their gear, donned their armor and noticed there was a small black vehicle in the large mostly-empty cargo container. Vehicles were next to useless in Astro station, the trains were faster and the few roads were kilometers away from most of the usual stops.
“Why the heck did they give us one of those?” Proto asked Vets while pointing at the vehicle. Vets grumbled something about government overspending and he opened the door and fired up the engine, the car recognizing his implant.
END OF CHAPTER



