: “ Losing Eden ”

One week before the invasion...

New Riga Colony
Alezon District
Carpizzi Resort Hotel

Rick Armstrong seems to be at a turning point in his life right now. He's been wondering why he decided to take the open road instead of heading back home. Hmmm, where would I call home anymore? he thought. He was actually born on a Colony ship 27 years ago during the long stalemate of the First Kilrathi War. Luckily the Armstrongs were a bit out of harm's way with the war being on the other side of the galaxy and all. Rick grew up among children of the Exploratory Colonies in the far Outer Rim Territories.

Now Rick was 27, whom is 6' 1" frame sat comfortably in the bar lounge of the Carpizzi Resort Hotel. He was lounging in style with the current casual trends of the denim shirt, khakis, and a long brown leather jacket. He was quietly waiting taking slow regular sips from his cup of coffee. It was already 10 o'clock by the standard Greenwich Mean Time. Rick arrived in New Riga only three weeks ago, taking up temporary residency at the Oxford Square. Alezon District was one of the most heavily frequented areas New Riga. About 10 miles in Diameter, Alezon was basically a hollowed out dome inside this underground city. The Marbleized face of Alezon was a thing of sheer beauty, obviously offering the best places to go, as well as serving as Downtown New Riga, inside this completely sub-terrain colony. The harsh surfaces of New Riga proved to be too difficult to survive in when the first band of colonists and miners decided to settle the planet. The rich quarry of specialized stones and mineral deposits provided New Riga with a thriving economy that played a part in the forty years of its history.

Beaming with an intricate grid of lights covering the massive ceiling, Alezon was very well lit, yet dimmed at certain hours of the New Riga Time Zone to simulate night, even in an underground city. Several major corporations established small central stations for its mining exporting operations. One of the original colonists said it well when "The stuff under the ground is too good to pass up." New Riga flourished with it's economic boon and benefited by having several brilliant and well managed Colonial Magistrates. Rick watches the time as well as faces passing through the lobby of the hotel.

Soon enough Rick found himself waiting for an hour and half, slightly disappointed that Crystal did not show up. Doctor Bouem left two days earlier saying something about heading to the Venice System. 11:36, she's not going to show, Rick thought to himself tossing a few bills onto the table before leaving.

A lot has change since the incident at Frost, Dr. Bouem taught him a few pointers about space travel and survival as well as offering him a bit of money before heading off on his own. Everything seems different from that lowly janitor on Frost to the well-versed figure standing before us today. A couple of run-ins with pirates and thugs can do that. Rick carried the sidearm Dr. Bouem gave him, a Kennedy 5.7mm UCP [Universal Combat Pistol]. Dr. Bouem believes that energy weapons weren't as great in the atmosphere than they were in outer space, so he favored projectile weapons. This was also one well-crafted handgun, it sleek yet slightly rectangular design gave it the recognizable shape of a handgun. Slightly bigger than the average weapon, it fired a caseless explosive tungsten jacketed projectile laced with an explosive. That explosive punch gave it an edge that few projectile weapons have over energy discharges. Only drawback to the weapon, don't be near the projectile as it hits. Safely tucked away in a holster underneath his brown leather jacket.

The atmosphere of the city was optimistic in a way prepared for what was coming up. New Riga held about 500,000 people underground, and a defense force of two squadrons of Confed and Border Worlds fighters were on the base near the surface. There was a trio of warships orbiting the planet as a garrison force. Rick watched as he left the Hotel, something was up, and he felt it as he headed back to his residence. He was working alone as of the moment, following Dr. Bouem's lead towards New Riga. He said that there were a few people that had done research with the Confederation about new entities. Rick had finally gathered enough information for a name the Nephilim, who ever they are.

He managed to get to the trans-rail station, heading over towards his place in Oxford Square. A few gruff looking fellows gathered sat on the other side of the tram. Rick could tell by the attire, the guy on the left wore his weapon on his right, with a tactical vest and one of those ocular enhancers on his forehead. It was typical of mercs to wear their weapons unconcealed, yet it was limited to personal sidearms, no use in bringing heavy assault weapons into a public place without a permit.

After the invasion...

Alezon District
Downtown New Riga

It took one day after the invasion to turn the bustling district of Alezon in to a heaping pile of rubble and destruction. The air defense base was totally vaporized. The civilian facilities became next. Setting off massive charges created havoc for the few remaining survivors. Heavy rain began to shower the area. The tremendous amount of rain was caused by destruction of the environmental controls, turning this place in to an underground rainstorm with temperatures that dipped down to the 40s and 50s. Rick took cover under the battered opening of a shopping corridor along with four other men who were mercenaries. A turn of luck on Rick's part as his counter parts turned out to be ex-military gunrunners.

Rick wouldn't have survived the cold without their help; giving him a full set of smart camouflage BDUs, a parka, several food rations and combat gear. In exchange another able body to hold a rifle, particularly the aging but venerable C47 linear assault rifle. They also had the bad luck of being inside a shelter as it caved in. Finding their way out, they decided to head for the surface where to the open caverns were and maybe to their ship, if it was still there. They waited silently in the cold, watching and hiding under the camouflage of the Special Forces uniform. The BDUs, parkas, assault vests, and backpacks were all patterned in cool blue and gray colors that matched the devastated surroundings of Downtown New Riga. They held their weapons tightly, bringing it to the ready, with their fingers hovering over the trigger.

Towering skyscrapers and massive architectural wonders are now crumbling burned out hulks of a once prosperous city. "Welcome to New Riga" has never been used since the early 2670s. The dark, brooding shadows cast by the now war torn areas of Alezon have eaten away the beauty and population ever since the invasion just a week earlier. New Riga is a lost cause, even though several thousand people might have survived initial invasion, they are all on their own till the Confederation could respond. Leaving them to fend for themselves with masses of dead or dying.

To the survivors, this isn't just a fight against not only the enemy but also the harsh elements of hypothermic temperatures. New waves of Aliens were already landing their forces in New Riga. Anyone who can fire a gun is welcomed to join at their own risk. The unlucky ones are those who are captured because they are likely to die. The humans who managed to survive are scattered and are forced to forage for whatever they can get their hands on. It has turned into an apocalyptic nightmare. People who are once were civilized have resorted to the prime instinct of survival. Joining forces to anyone who is willing and able. Trying to keep hope alive. There is at least one good side to all this, Alezon's constant artificial rain also provides protection against the Nephilim, who held back full on charge into this tactically challenging district. The rain provided perfect cover for guerilla tactics and somewhat of a refuge from capture. The Nephilim's tactics changed to a long-range patrol into this stormy wasteland.

They began to use the Alezon District as a hunting ground. A patrol team consisting of six to eight Aliens would appear from the northern part of Alezon, patrolling across the 10-mile district. The sport they played was one of maiming the victim with the weapons, usually a human scavenger, then rushing the poor bastard for the kill. From what Rick could see, they already killed two. The towering Nephilim troopers, with their jagged carapace armor and short barreled green glowing rifles. Rick has to admit that the Nephilim are agile bastards, even for their size. They were obviously taller than a human, about seven to eight feet and also few inches taller than a Kilrathi. Their narrow agile frame was formed in the shape of an insect namely something like the Preying Mantis, only intelligent and armed with energy weapons. These bastards aren't the primitive sub sentient beings who would claw you to shreds, they have built their technology and they know how to use it. The massive rushing power and strength of an average Nephilim trooper isn't something you would want to mess with unarmed. There goes one. A flash from a rifle, about four hundred yards away the bright flicker of light was noticeable through the heavy rain.

A Nephilim in its black and green horned armor lowered its rifle, before leaping off after its prey. The four men crept closer scraping the floor, hunched over, rifles pointed directly at them. The three were combat hardened veterans, highly trained warriors moved in complete silence, testing their feet as they stepped over the wet broken rubble.

They were former members from Terran Confederation Marine Commandos; Special Forces soldiers picked from the best the Marine Corps had to offer. Trained to the utmost perfection. All male, and enhanced mental (average IQ among these elite units was 140) and physical fitness wise, Special Forces are in a caliber on their own. Mental conditioning trained them to be well-disciplined killers, following the orders of who ever is in charge. They are the soldiers for the impossible. Enhancements to the body would assume more than a just a few regeneration serums and physical conditioning, although the question of genetic enhancement is still a mystery. One might suspect the Next Generation Special Forces were products of the Black Lance, but no one is willing to confirm or deny the charges. They live for combat, and train in combat, could only die in combat; that is why they continue to wage war as Mercenaries and Gunrunners.

The rain continued to pour down hard, blanketing the area with a consistent monsoon. The guy in charge was Jim Santiago who pointed to Johnson and Zelaya. The two nodded and started to climb a hill after the Nephilim Patrol. They followed the patrol closely, spending the next ten minutes closing the distance to forty yards, crouching behind brick-crete pillars and overturned hovercars.

They examined the patrol team up close. The Troopers still didn't have a clue what lurked so close to them. They casually marched around, only stopping for a few seconds to scan the area before continuing their patrol movements. Rick could here the loud clicking and hissing sounds as they communicated vocally. They completely underestimated what humans were capable of. The troopers moved on joining into the conversation as they kept their rifles low. Two dead humans were pilled up in a bug version of a null-gravity cart that looked like a floating piece of an alien shell's. A man, in his mid twenties, wearing a torn up bloody business suit. His throat was torn out and his chest ripped open from gunfire. Underneath was the body of a small girl, maybe twelve or fourteen. Spots of blood dotted her face, no need for an explanation here. The brutality of their methods hit Rick as he gazed silently, still crouching low and keeping a close distance to Johnson.

The eyes of the child was visible to the ex-Marines, they didn't budge. The cold professionalism of their training blocked out most emotions of sympathy, except some. Zelaya whispered into his comm, "These things lived too long." Santiago turned back then gave the hand signal to engage the enemy.

The piercing scream of the sub-light projectile shrieked through the heavy drone of the rain. A flash of blue high velocity particles blazed a trail from the gray concrete rubble below. First alien's chest exploded in a mystifying spray of green. The sub-light trail was still visible straight through his the hole where his chest cavity was. The massive Nephilim trooper was knocked back several feet into a puddle of water.

Two other sub-light trails flashed instantly disintegrating another alien's head into a massive explosion of gore and chunks of it's armored shell. Simultaneously the third round tore through the midsection of another Nephilim severing it's lower half as its upper body fell twitching in synapse shock. Three more left as Rick raised his rifle into his shoulder as he was taught, then he took aim at Nephilim who looked like it was in complete shock. Placing the huge bug within its crosshairs he pulled the trigger in Sub-light mode. The rifle's sequencer launched a round of explosive Isometal at sub-light velocity. The sound of a deeply set explosion, then a millisecond later the high-pitched scream. A flash, then a trail blazing through the heavy misting rain and in between the mountains of rubble. It took a flash of an eye before it reached an impact point, striking the organic reinforced shell that the Nephilim wore as armor. The sheer speed of a sub-light projectile already entered its body as ever millisecond passed, tearing open the internal organs with the sub-light drag that was trailing the round. Then when it reached deep enough into the cavity of the enemy target, the deformed hollow-point Isometal projectile detonating the tiny lacing of high explosive, Carvo-Nitrate. "Lethal, that's what you are." Rick thought to himself as he watched the fourth Nephilim go down in a bursting display of greenish carnage.

The Final surviving Nephilim troopers panicked like anyone would if something like this lurked in the shadows. Leaping under the cover of the rubble before unleashing the automatic fire from their weapons. The intense sharp burst sprayed a bright green energy pulses. They were unloading what were clips each time they fired. Only a few things could stop a projectile at sub-light speeds, Bric-Crete wasn't one of them. Santiago fired a well-placed shot into the fallen pillar. The force of the blast penetrated the wall yet didn't kill the Nephilim. The pillar's integrity absorbed most of the force, as the projectile detonated onto the surface the Alien's armor, knocking away and right into plain sight. Johnson and Zelaya took the opportunity to fire, blowing it apart in both it's upper and lower half. The Energy bursts snaked towards the four men, chewing through the devastated landscape. Zelaya positioned himself for the last shot, wiping off the rain from his face he calmly took aim. Rick watched his every move as he stayed low and behind the wall of what used to be a Starship Dealer. Watching Zelaya's, the easy squeeze of the trigger and the distinctive sound of the C47. Then all Rick could hear was the rain. Santiago gave the hand signal to move on.

During the long slow process of combat walking, they finally came to the battered main quarters of what people regarded as the local police force. Fortunately it seemed like it was still intact. Activity was noticed from scouting the surrounding buildings. Santiago signaled his me to approach with caution. Unlike the normal mercenaries that scourged the Outer Rim, this was a regularly paid and professional unit that provided authority over crime and chaos. All of their police officers were highly trained and skilled. They were also uncanny to resolve any domestic conflicts, and to thwart violence. Their weaponry consisted mostly of light blasters and energy stun weapons, but if push came to shove they also had access to heavy hardware if needed, hand-me-down stuff from the Confed Marine Corps. They walked in to find the facility nice and tidy unannounced and somewhat strangely ignored, where there were of dozens police officers getting a briefing in the main auditorium.

One of the closest officers finally turned around, clad in his dark blue police uniform, motioned to them with his lips, "Shhh . . . Captain Harrison is speaking. You must show respect and dignity."

They nodded and slowly walked to the side entrance of the auditorium, where the commander of police force was speaking. Captain Harrison, an aging yet lean and muscular man who had spent over twenty years in the Confed Fleet, pointed his swagger stick on the briefing holovid. The holovid was unnoticeable at the angle in which the men were facing him. From their current position, they can see Captain Harrison and the rest of the police officers.

"The Alien force is preparing to move into our fortifications, and from looking at the layout we can fully expect them to attack . . ." he motioned with his stick, "Here, here, and here. We must barricade these positions with miniguns to give them fields of fire here, and here. That way, they are able to protect our positions and give overlapping support to increase our volume of fire, or in case one of the minigun positions gets hit."

"Officer Greenbaum," he motioned to a veteran police officer, "You are to your men and fortify these locations here and here, make sure you set up barricades to stall the alien advance. And if they get close enough, you know what you have to do. You all have blaster rifles." The officer replied crisply, "Of course Captain."

The efficiency impressed Armstrong, and even Santiago and the other ex-commandos seemed to think that Harrison could get it done. He sounded calm, cool, organized, efficient, and to have everything set down. Their hopes were soaring, maybe they can really pull it off. There were people who were willing to do it, and they were doing it the Right Way.

Yet, something seemed wrong.

Santiago sensed it, "Armstrong, something's weird about this."

Armstrong motioned, "I don't know man, he seems pretty locked on about . . ." Santiago just motioned for all of them to stop talking. He moved a bit more and turned so that he can check out the briefing holovid that veteran police officer was talking about.

From the looks of the briefing maps and layout and reference, it was crystal clear that they were not defending the underground city of New Riga, Ymir System.

But rather, from the holovids, they defending the trenches of Repleetah, the system light years away that was the subject to some of the bloodiest Marine combat during the First Kilrathi War. A conflict that was resolved without any survivors from either side.

Then it finally hit Santiago, gazing into the auditorium. Watching the officers sitting in the seats, some of still, while others moved. Stepping aside moving across the aisle, he left his men at the door as he moved further down into the auditorium. Captain Harrison continued to speak of his plan. Santiago stared into seats, with a clear view of the officers' faces. More than half of them were dead, lying deathly still in their seats, trails of dried blood streaked from their noses. Some of them with a strange sickly greenish hue in their faces, a few of them were still alive and twitching. Now Santiago's gut feeling started burning into him. He raced up the stairs shoving an officer motioning to him to sit down.

Santiago moved towards Armstrong and growled, "They're all goddamned insane! More than half of those fucking bastards are dead. Same fucked up whacko mental state as those who were green, just healthier and better groomed. All of them. Something's very wrong here." And with that, they left the room rather quickly and noisily, leaving the rest of the insane police officers to continue with their disturbed gathering.

The stepped out into the rain once more, this time in a hurry to leave the police station turned insane asylum. The rain continued to pour as the disappeared into the murky gray. They continued to move carefully through the rain. Slowly they crept through the destruction, heading down Sunset Blvd, the main highway. The remaining serviceable light sources continue to beam in what light they could offer, making it look like a bleak gray sky. They ran across several groups of survivors some of them pleading for assistance while others lay there dying in the cold. Taking what time they could spare, they did the noble thing escorting them to shelter, which was a Personal Freighter had crashed while trying to unload it's payload of food. The ship's powercore was still in good condition providing them with a warm place to stay. The makeshift shelter now housed over sixty-three people, with room to spare. The survivors' weather beaten looks had ingrained itself into Rick's mind. A few of them spoke up pleading them to stay, but Santiago knew better. Rick was given the choice to stay.

"Rick, it's your choice, did well out there. Even though you haven't gone through what we have, and you were never in the Corps, you're a fast learner," the gruff voice of Jim Santiago complimented Rick.

"I think I'd toughen it out head off with you, Top." It's the first time he used that name, he knew that he'd earn the right to call him that now. During their days as a Marine Commando they were all had codenames, Santiago's was Topkick. Whenever Johnson or Zelaya addressed him, they would call him Top, now it's Rick's turn. It wasn't his place to stay, gathering up a few more non-perishables, he packed into his ruck and ordered Rick to do the same. Johnson and Zelaya taught the survivors a few pointers on security as well as weapon tactics. Offering what they could just before they left.

They still had a lot of ground to cover, even through the ceaseless rain. People worry that the place would flood up yet underneath, Alezon's drainage system works flawlessly. The Nephilim didn't realize that the main flood controls for the environmental systems were destroyed in the bombardment, offering them no way to turn off the water system. Constant flow of water came from a gigantic freshwater lake above the frigid surface.

Moving silently, it took them a half an hour before reaching the main entry point to the docking platform elevator. The enormous turbolift was built for massive digging machinery then converted to a public access to the surface by building smaller, faster 30 person turbolifts along side it. The found refuge within the access port. It's a four-minute ride to the surface from high-speed lift. A very tense four minutes because of the risk of alerting the Nephilim.

The hum of the elevator slowed to a halt as the surface atmosphere. The blistering cold flooded the turbolift as the doors slid open to the storming snow that was the surface of New Riga. Wait a minute, what happened to the reception station? Rick shielded his eyes, fighting the gale winds as he stepped onto the snow-layered surface. It took him one step to realize he was standing in the burned out shell of what used to be the primary reception station. The Receiving Dock Alpha was now a crumbling smoldering half-shell, with one side that had completely disintegrated from plain sight.

The howl of the wind made it difficult for anyone to hear. The camouflage parkas and uniform had completely shifted to a pristine white; making the four men disappear into the glacial landscape. Explosions were heard as they shuffled through the three to four foot deep snow, making their way to the Exposed Landing strip which was now a bombed out field of destroyed spacecraft. This was a place where the people wouldn't need to pay for a landing permit and housing for their starships in New Riga. It would have been buried under mounds of snow if not for sixty-foot towering orange landing lights that reached high up into the sky. Too bad the snow already covered the destruction.

"TWELVE KILOMETERS SOUTHWEST!!!" Santiago hollered at the top of his lungs. They had a hell of a trek ahead of them. Holding a homing beacon device, he guided them towards his ship, Grecko's Sun. Named after a general during the Battle of Terra, although Rick didn't know much about him, he was only 14 when it happened. The trudge through the howling snow as they passed through the destroyed Airbase from a distance. Rick could see the smoke from the hanger bays still burning. Several buildings were barely visible.

They headed towards the exposed natural cavern was twelve kilometers from the entrance to New Riga. The place didn't have a pretty name, just Rill's Cavern, although the local crime syndicate and a few smugglers dubbed it The Runner's Spot. Basically it was a drop point for hot goods that would never be defiled by the hands of a local gov customs agent. Several questionable ships still reside there one happened to be Grecko's Star.

"TOP WE HAVE CONTACT!!!" Zelaya snarled as he dove to the ground, disappearing into a fluff of white. Rick could barely see 10 yards in front of him as the silhouette of what obviously was a Nephilim appeared in the distance. Then he saw something else, as he also took cover within the snow. Rick strained his eyes through the constant gale of blinding snow before seeing red. Red streaks? He watched as more red bolts impacted across the Nephilim figure, dropping it to the ground.

Before long more beams appeared shooting across in every direction. Johnson yelled something to low to be heard before he started firing at a pack of Nephilim racing across the destroyed Radar Tower only several yards away. He dropped one of them, before the red beams of energy took down the other two.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" Rick howled over the wailing winds. Then it appeared several human figures in a darker white uniform, almost the same, as Rick's but visible within the snowstorm. Santiago decided to turn off the camouflage as his uniform turned black, making him stand out in the snowstorm.

Six then twelve, then a whole platoon of soldiers appeared out of the white shroud of New Riga's surface. They circled around the four black uniformed figures, just before three men moved up to them. The silhouettes became clearer into an image of a Terran Confederation Marine, wearing smart camo and assault armor and combat helmet. It was a woman, who held her weapon at the ready, escorting two other Marines. The weapon she held happened to be the newly issued M-58A Assault Rifle. A weapon designed in a bullpup style, with a pump action grenade launcher attached to the bottom of the rifle's barrel. A targeting scope was fixed on top of the weapon. The two other Marines slung their weapons around their shoulder just before approaching Santiago and his men.

"Corporal Jiminez, 24th MEU, 5th Marine," the women said, "You guys are..."

"Corporal, let me speak to the guy in charge." Santiago ordered.

The Corporal acknowledged and then called towards the back, "Get the L-T in here!" The rest of the Marines repeated it down the line until a Marine officer came, double-timing to the front. Corporal Jiminez saluted him and pointed to the four ragtag men standing there, and then saluted again and went back into the line. The officer came forward.

"NOW YOU'VE GOT TO BE THE CRAZIEST SONS OF BITCHES TO BE OUT ON THE SURFACE OF NEW RIGA!!!" the Marine officer shouted a few feet away from Santiago in his bewilderment and surprise.

"Not crazy, sir. Just an out of time." Santiago shouted back gazing at the man's rank on his helmet. A single gold bar marked the rank of a Second Lieutenant in the Corps. Santiago sensed the man's anxiousness, as if he was new to this. Jim said nothing as the young lieutenant spoke through the wind.

"The surface of this planet is being secured by the Terran Confederation 7th Fleet. We're from the 24th MEU. This is my platoon, my name is Second Lieutenant Danny Roberts." He shouted trying to keep his voice from being drowned out in the wind. He shielded his eyes from the blowing snow and stood face to face with the four men.

Santiago then remarked, "But of course Lieutenant. What's your homeship?"

"Mistral Sea. 7th Fleet carrier task force sent in to take care of this mess. It's orbiting the planet as we speak."

"Very well, sir. I'm Jim Santiago, and this is my crew." He gestured towards his three men. They all shook hands with the Lieutenant.

"You, sir, Mr. Santiago, came from below, New Riga? How bad is it down there?"

"Everything's at a loss, there was little within the underground city. There was little to no defense after the military presence fell. Survivors are spread across all of New Riga, hiding wherever they can."

"Defense?" The Marine officer said, "There's got to be some survivors from the local police force, militia, anything like that?"

"They do have a police force, about a few dozen of them and they got their entire chain of command intact..."

The Marine Lieutenant then broke in, a little bit too enthusiastic, "Great! I'll relay that to my CO. We'll need to talk to them to get the latest info..." He motioned for his radioman to open up a link with his company commander when Santiago held up a hand.

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. Everything's at a loss, they've all gone insane." He then began filling Lieutenant Roberts about the mental state of the local police officers, and then said, "It should also be quarantined, there's some disease going down, it might be the reason for their insanity."

Roberts nodded, "You look like you are ex-military, am I correct?"

"Yes, formerly of Marine Commando Four. Retired as an O-6." Danny realized that he was talking to an officer, even though he retired.

"Marine Commando Four... you say..." The young Lieutenant pondered that, then he called back to his platoon Sergeant, "Gunnery Sergeant! What was the commando team that landed with us?"

"Marine Commando Four, sir," was the reply. The Lieutenant then turned around. "Your old unit landed with us. You may know some of them. And you obviously know your places around here. Would you be willing to help us?" There was a bit of a strange look on the old warrior's face as memories and mixed emotions of his unit came back. Danny kept looking at him waiting for his answer. Jim began to think about the people down there, the snowstorm on the surface was die down as his ship was visible from where they stood. Tempted to leave, there were issues to be resolved on this planet.

"I'm not here to lead anyone, Lieutenant. That's your job. I'll show you the way down…"

FINIS