The Invasion is inevitable. Upper Gaia is about to be wiped off from the map. And the first to feel the burn is one of the four great nations, Oclia.

Scorched lands awaited the 5^th Battalion and the 28^th Pararescue squad as they attempted a rescue mission over the Evergreen Rainforest. The soldiers of Oclia were greeted with a wasteland which was once home to a thousand different lifeforms. It was almost impossible to see through the smoke, nor was it easy to identify the eight helicopters hovering above the ground.

“This is Sierra 42 to base. No survivals. I repeat, no survivals. The whole forest has been fried. Over.”

The pilot announced into his transponder.

“Sierra 42, this is headquarters. We copy you. Can you locate the professor?”

The soldiers on foot listened intently to the conversation between base camp and the pararescue squad.

“The smoke’s too thick.”

The group of foot soldiers stared down at a pile of corpse.

The team leader engaged his transponder clipped to his ammo-vest and attempted to speak into the radio as clearly as possible. However, his voice still trembled.

“This is Zerga 2. I think we’ve found him…”

Despite the helicopter’s intense spotlight glaring at them, their eyes did not blink one bit. They simply stared at the professor’s body beneath the pile of dead bodies, covered with blood and maggots. The glass splinters from his spectacles impaled into his left eye. It was not the gruesome image that left them speechless but the fact that they had little chance at winning the war, now that the professor was dead…

Back at base camp, Lieutenant General Warrington took a sip of coffee from his porcelain mug and with a steady hand, placed the mug down on his mahogany desk. The battle-scar which ran down his right eye to his cheek intensified his grimace.

Lieutenant Pauline, secretary to Warrington, spoke in an urgent and serious tone, “Sir, the rescue squad has arrived at the drop zone.”

Upon receiving the update, the grey-haired general immediately put down his fountain pen in his right hand, also scarred by the last war he participated in. Besides, this was not war. Not yet.

He walked out of his office into the Situations Room.

“Room diam!”¹

Every personnel stood at attention, saluting the aged general. However, it was not the three stars on his shoulder epaulettes which commanded the highest respect in that room — it was that awful streak on his face. He was a hero from the last war.

“Fuck the formalities,” he answered gruffly.

Unlike the others, Warrington hated wasting time and formalities ranked top on that list. After all, the last time he acted without the approval from his superiors, he saved an entire city from genocide.

“Update me, Rust.”

A man in his late twenties standing beside Warrington in the Sit-room² was fidgeting with his golden ring on his left ring finger. He wore a translucent green ring on his right middle finger. His bronze skin was coarse, seasoned by his time in the desert. He wore military locust desert goggles which slung over his neck. His black linen sleeveless shirt fitted his muscular build.

He spoke firmly — with a slight arabic accent — as if he were equals with the general, “Professor’s dead. That place is a desert now.”

Warrington gave a solemn nod. He expected the worst case scenario.

“What about his research?”

The broadcast cackled with static, “Zerga 2 to HQ. There’s nothing in the safe box. I repeat, safe box is empty.”

The whole room turned quiet. The safe box contained the critical research papers on the professor’s findings. Without it, there would be no one who could take up the baton the professor put down. Without the research papers, they were ten steps behind the enemy.

The man called Rust continued on, “That’s not the only thing, Winston. Take a look at this.”

The young chap was the only one who had enough guts to call the general by his first name. He pushed a button on one of the control keyboards and the screen changed. It now showed the livefeed from the drop zone.

“Nuclear?” Warrington made a wild guess.

It was the closest conjecture he could come up with. No other weapon could cause such destruction. Yet, he knew that nuclear was out of the question. The neutron dispersal embedded deep within the core of Gaia prevented the production of nuclear energy. Moreover, a nuclear explosion would result in a total destruction of the entire region and not just the place where the professor’s laboratory was hidden. The weapon used this time was much more sophisticated. A technology so advanced that it could contain the payload of the explosion.

“Something more advanced,” Rust replied.

A million worries overwhelmed the General. Missing research notes, advanced weaponry and an all-out declaration of war in a neutral zone.

What does the enemy truly want?

He closed his eyes for a brief moment to clear his thoughts. He then gave down the orders.

“5th Battalion is to make camp at the nearest suitable campsite. Team A of the pararescue squad and two platoons will continue on with the search for any traces of survival.”

Rust smirked. That was exactly how he would command his troops. Warrington had came to the same conclusion as him.

The safe box could withstand even a nuclear pulse. The missing notes were taken, most likely by what was left of the Nebula Company, which was tasked to protect the compound. Retrieving the research papers were necessary. It was not the end yet. Not yet. It would only be the end if the enemy got their hands on it. If they were able to imbue the research into their advanced technology, it would be the end of mankind.

The temporary command center would be where the 5th Battalion made camp, facilitating back-up if needed.

There was just one more thing that was needed to be done.

Warrington turned to the man called Rust and ordered, “assemble Heaven’s Command.”

Finally…

Rust gave a crooked grin.

It was his turn to take the stage.

He turned his back and left the compound.