Latch unto Me

The Assalt

It was the dead of night. The sky was filled with bright stars, though none of their light was enough to brighten the planet's surface. There was no moon.

With the aid of the night, a silent cloaked HECTOR military transport blasted through the air at Mach six. It carried a crew of thirteen. Two pilots, seven male soldiers, three female, and a grade eight war machine.

"Sound off! Fiend one?" The commanding officer barked. He was the largest human in the crew. He sported an uncut beard, much to the irritation of his professional superiors, with messy black. At his right side was a suitably large RPB; Rapid plasma bolter, an advanced LMG. It was capable of projecting self-contained plasma bolts at a high rate of fire for sustained periods of time. The projectiles looked like lightning bolts, hence the name, only straighter. Bolter weapon technology had originally been called laser tech. On his back was a heavy backpack containing some form of bulky computer. Two red lights were lit up on its side.

"All set sir!" the first man, call-sign Fiend one, replied.

"Fiend two?"

"Loaded up sir." Said a second man. He had similar messy black hair to the commander, but his skin was olive instead of dark brown. He carried a much lighter bolt rifle, but had the same mechanical backpack.

"Fiend three?"

There was no reply. The commander looked away from the closed exit ramp and over his shoulder, directly at Fiend three. He was massaging his forehead and looking down. He had a similar olive skin colour to Fiend two, perhaps a bit darker, but his hair was brown and cut short. His left hand held the end of a heavy bolter, a slightly larger and more powerful version of the bolt rifles, while retaining their mobility and versatility. On his belt were two standard fragmentation grenades, a few extra bolt cells for his weapon, and an EMP dagger. The dagger could release a single, powerful EMP blast, useful for disabling mechanized hostiles and control consoles or even electrical doors.

"Fiend three!" The commander called, louder than the first time.

Fiend two, in the seat next to Fiend three, nudged him. "Kyle, rollcall."

Fiend three looked up. "I'm fine."

"You had better be. We have a narrow window for this op, and I can't afford to be a man down. So let me ask again. Fiend three?" The commander called back.

He cleared his head and psyched himself up. He brought the heavy bolter into his lap.

"Ready sir!" He said, his voice now as firm as the others.

The Commander continued calling out Fiend four, five and six (all men), then called out Sprite one, two and three (all women). Lastly, he called out Xenon one, the huge robot that sat against the wall opposite to the exit ramp.

"I am operational. Weapon systems are live and fully functional." It said in a deep monotone voice. Military bots had sophisticated speech recognition and expression systems. In a chaotic situation, it had to understand a command, however it was said. For commanders, memorising preprogramed phrases and articulating them in the middle of combat was difficult, and more importantly, unnecessary.

"Good. ETA eighty seconds people. Positions!" The commander, call-sign black sickle, and Fiend one through four stacked on the left side of the transport bay. Fiend five and six, and Sprite one, two and three stacked on the right. Xenon stood and walked between the two lines. "Headsets on!"

The human soldiers stumbled a bit as their transport landed. They had been warned to expect a hard landing. The transport had only a few minutes to clear the insertion area or it would be shot down by nearby Anti-aircraft batteries which had been temporarily disabled by another team a few minutes previous.