Gunfire lit up the war-torn battlefield, as numerous explosions filled the air with dirt and debris. The smoke was so thick that it was difficult to see more than a few yards in front of you. Any unprotected human in this environment would begin to suffocate in mere moments, if they weren't already burnt to a crisp by the sheer heat or torn asunder by waves of plasma bullets.
No less than twenty soldiers and three tanks were surrounding and firing upon a small rock formation -- the only visible landmark in the nearby surroundings. Hunkered down in defensive positions throughout the rocks were five armored soldiers wielding large rifles. Their bulky, full-body exoskeletons made it almost impossible to discern one individual from the other; their armor was identical and painted completely gray, with the only identifying characteristics being a serial number and rank insignia stamped onto each soldier's chestplate.
"Missile incoming! Get down!" A hoarse male voice echoed around the rocky fortress, and the squad hit the deck as a large projectile whistled past. It veered upward at the last moment, perhaps as a result of malfunction, exploding some thirty feet above their position.
The same male voice shouted again. "Oh, fuck! Concentrate fire above!" The missile had jarred loose a number of boulders, which began to fall towards the soldiers with terrifying speed. While it would give their enemy an opening, the squad had no choice and turned their rifles towards the falling rocks.
However, before they had a chance to pull the trigger -- a large energy beam vaporized the boulders in an instant. Looking off to the side for the source of the blast, the soldiers saw an individual standing alone amidst the chaos, in similar armor as their own but painted a bold shade of red.
"Stay focused on maintaining your perimeter. Leave the rest to me." The new arrival opened a communication channel and spoke to the squad. The voice was female and, despite the dire situation, she sounded calm, even cold.
Her presence seemed to immediately and markedly improve the soldier's morale.
"It's her!" "I can't believe it... The Scarlet Hunter..." "I told you they wouldn't abandon us!"
Without paying any mind to their words, the red-clad woman sprang into action. The nearest enemy soldiers turned their sights onto her, but she was faster. Not only was her speed second-to-none, her accuracy was impeccable. Toggling her plasma cannon from a sustained beam to individual bullets, it took only a single shot to down each of the men attacking her -- three total. Before their bodies had hit the ground, she was already sprinting towards the next group of hostiles, while the soldiers she had rescued simply looked on in awe.
One of the tanks fired at the woman as she approached, but she didn't slow in the slightest. Instead, she leaped at just the last possible second, twisting her body to let the shell pass harmlessly underneath her, and it detonated some distance behind. Before the tank could reload, she raised her own cannon and retaliated. The same energy beam that had destroyed the falling rocks now buffeted the tank. While the tank had shielding in place to weather such attacks, it bought the woman enough time to close the distance and fire again, this time down the tank's barrel. The cabin immediately exploded, scattering the charred remains of its pilot across a wide radius.
"Squad Gamma." A second voice, also female, roused the rescued soldiers back to attention. "Move to coordinate H67.3 and await further instruction."
After taking a split-second to visualize the coordinate location on the battlefield, the squad leader was confused but held his tongue. He would trust the woman who had saved his hide more times than he could count.
The group of men ("Squad Gamma", as they'd been called) moved to their ordered position as the red woman continued to decimate the enemy forces singlehandedly. She wasn't completely untouchable, but the few rounds that found their mark bounced harmlessly off her armor's shields. Eventually, Squad Gamma had reached their destination -- an open space far east of the enemy.
"What now, ma'am?" the squad leader asked. He was worried about his men; they were essentially sitting ducks out here.
"Stand by." Not exactly a reassuring response.
They were far enough away from the combat that the smoke obscured their view of the red woman, although the sounds of gunshots and screeching metal made it clear that her fight was not over. After another few seconds of nothing...
"Squad Gamma, fire directly above your positions, now!"
"Ma'am?" The squad leader couldn't hide his incredulity.
"
Do it, Commander.
" The power in her voice spurned them to action, and Squad Gamma unloaded their rifles into the sky.
The bright plasma sailed up and up until it was out of sight -- or at least, that's what they all expected to happen. Instead, their fire was intercepted by an invisible object hanging in the air: a cloaked enemy transport ship. Based on its trajectory, the vessel was in the process of making a descent to drop off additional reinforcements. However, while cloaking renders a vehicle nearly imperceptible to the naked eye, the trade-off is that it also requires that all shielding be disabled.
Thus, Gamma's rifle fire ripped through the enemy craft. The cockpit was eviscerated, sending the ship into a dramatic tailspin before crashing into the ground a short distance away -- right on top of one of the remaining tanks.
"Holy shit." Once again, the men were in awe. Detecting a
stationary
cloaked vehicle was technically possible but extremely difficult; predicting and bringing down a moving one was almost unheard of.
A moment later, the red woman destroyed the third and final tank -- and the battlefield fell silent.
"Man..." one of Gamma's soldiers muttered. "Those two are something else."
--------------
I entered the final configuration commands into the terminal as our allied transport docked. They were returning victorious from the planet of Zixue, having successfully routed Imperial forces in the fields outside the planet's capital.
The airlock door opened and about fifty of our men, soldiers of the Unified Nations, stumbled in. Their armor was battered and they all looked weary, though that was purely from their body language -- their faces were impossible to see with their helmets still on. Eager to relax now that they were finally home, the soldiers all lined up by the armor stations. Each of these stations could deconstruct (or reconstruct) a soldier's armor in seconds, leaving only the skintight full-body jumpsuit underneath.
I watched the soldiers come and go, keeping a close eye on each of their health readouts -- they were scanned for biological issues or injuries as part of the armor removal process. However, I was the chief engineer, not a doctor, so all I did was note any abnormalities and send anyone with problems to the infirmary for a closer look.
The final soldier to step into the station was a tall woman with red armor. She wasn't the only one with a nonstandard armor color (EOD specialists, for example, wore blue armor), but as far as I knew, she was the only soldier in the entire military sporting this distinctive shade of red. That's how I knew she was a woman, despite the shape of the armor itself making it impossible to tell.
The armor was removed from the woman's limbs and abdomen first. She was wearing the same jumpsuit as everyone else, but even through its material, one could plainly see she was incredibly fit. However, what my eyes appreciated most was her impressive rack. In times past, breasts so large might have encumbered her ability to fight, but modern-day armor was designed to hold them firm, preventing any movement. Even so, the jumpsuit clung tightly to her entire body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
As the helmet was lifted off her head, long locks of blonde hair unfurled themselves and cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was pretty, with sharp blue eyes and a beauty mark on her chin.
"Everything go well out there, Major Adams? Any issues with the armor?" I asked her, as she climbed out of the armor station. She had brought some new upgrades into the field for the first time today. She looked at me with no particular emotion and curtly said, "Yes. No problems." Then, without so much as a goodbye, she started walking away.
Well, I wasn't offended. I knew that's just how she was. To some she might come off as aloof, but she wasn't the type to look down on people or make fun of them. It's just that she was all business; I don't know if I'd ever seen her express an emotion outside of "professionalism".
She... was a hero. This was Major Samantha Adams, arguably the best ground soldier the Unified Nations had. Time and again, she'd been deployed to hellish warzones and been instrumental in turning the tide. She had an innate sense for combat which, paired with her peak physical condition, made her more than a match for even a hundred men -- and that's without the top-of-the-line armor and weapons that she now wielded. She was renowned and feared by all nations as an unstoppable force on the battlefield, nicknamed the "Scarlet Hunter" for both the color of her armor and the bloodbaths she left in her wake.
As she walked toward the hangar exit, another woman entered, flanked by a female adjutant. This newcomer was dressed in the formal wear and cap of a naval officer, including white pants and coat. Pinned to her lapel were numerous medals and commendations. Paired with her perfect posture and self-assured bearing, even a stranger would be able to tell that she was someone of importance.
Physically, the officer had short black hair and brown eyes with glasses. Like Major Adams, she was well-endowed, though her manner of dress made it difficult to say which of the women was larger.
"Well done, Samantha." The officer greeted the Major with praise. In response, Adams straightened up and raised her hand in a perfect salute, saying "Thank you, Admiral."
Rather than being pleased at the textbook reply, the Admiral seemed exasperated and sighed. "Really, Samantha? No one else is around except my assistant. It's okay to call me Catherine."
This wasn't exactly common knowledge, but Major Adams owed a good portion of her victories to the woman in front of her, Admiral Catherine Locke. Brute force can only get one so far, and Catherine made up for Samantha's shortcomings with a fierce intellect and keen mind for strategy. She could analyze incoming intelligence and devise calculated responses in the blink of an eye. Every move Adams made in combat, Locke would ensure the rest of the forces were there to back her up and capitalize on her strength. While she had a reputation for unconventional tactics, no one could argue against her success.
Locke and Adams had risen through the ranks in lockstep, each rarely deployed without the other. Occasionally, some would claim that their achievements were exaggerated or unearned, perhaps because Locke's husband was a leading politician, but anyone who saw those two in action knew that they were the real deal.
And on top of that, they were sisters. (Admiral Locke had taken her husband's last name.)
Major Adams glanced at me after Locke spoke. While it was true that the other soldiers had already filtered out of the hangar, I was still here, running some maintenance tasks on the armor stations maybe twenty feet away.
