It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

A fleet of small air-craft stopped mid-flight in the night sky above us; all glowing brightly. They were sleek and from the design, did not look as if they could even fly at all. But they did. Only a few larger ones swept towards us and fired at our artillery. We tried firing back, but being on the ground rendered us useless. I ordered the men to make their way to the B67s immediately. We needed air defense and right now the odds were completely against us. I made it into a B67 without taking a hit from the continuous fire from enemy ships. Every pilot who was able followed my lead out of the hangers. A few experience pilots asked me over the headset what sort of maneuvers we should use to take them down. "Use the Don't Die maneuver. That's an order," I did not fully know what to expect from our enemy either.


Only about an hour had passed and the losses were tragic; the damage critical. The smaller craft were still stationary in the air. We had already taken several out, but the enemy had already taken most of our craft out too. One of the larger craft spun around with ease and hurled itself right towards me. I opened fire. I watched as the bullets sunk into the enemy craft's frame and it combusted instantly. I did not have time to navigate around the debris, so I flew right through it. The odd colors of smoke and what seemed to be flames filled my view. When I finally broke free, several hits from enemy fire ripped through my craft. I was going down. I struggled with the ejection seat but the pulley was jammed. I continued to fight with the coord and watched desperately in the swirling view in front of me. I could barely see the entire fight. Ground units scrambled to find other means of support the dog-fight. I watched as a Chameleon uncloaked and swooped up two units in its mouth with ease. Finally the coord gave and I launched out of my craft. Below me, my ship smashed into the earth, erupting into a ball of flame. Luckily no one was around it. My parachute slowed my fall, but I knew I would be shot down eventually. We were overwhelmed and unprepared. I felt as if I had let them all down, but in all fairness I had never been commanding officer before. Perhaps I should have never been.

Then suddenly the small air-crafts hanging in the sky came to life and fired blue beams. The beams warped like a whip before hitting my units on the ground. At first, I expected a gruesome incineration or a clean-slice through them resulting in a quick death, but slowly and gradually these beams pulled my units up. They were pulled into the small craft itself where they lay completely still as if frozen.

Then I realized these were not alien war-crafts. These were human vegetation pods.

A bright light hindered my view and I suddenly felt a cool sensation overwhelm me even through the exoskeleton. I could not move and I was headed directly into a pod myself.

I pulled out my side arm and tried shooting at the pod, for whatever it was worth. It didn't do much, but what choice did I have? My parachute was suspended above me as though frozen. I was starting to panic. I heard others over the radio as well.

"AIM FOR THE TURBINE, OR WHATEVER THAT THING IS!" someone screamed.

I aimed at the turbine just underneath the pod, and fired, for whatever it was worth. The round hit on its mark, and the turbine began to sputter. The blue light stopped, and I began to slowly descend to the ground. Upon hitting the ground, the aircraft flew away with their cargo, leaving me on the ground, wondering what had happened, and what to do next. I tried to raise people on the radio net. I found that only twenty or so people remained. The base was almost completely destroyed. Somehow, though, one B67 figher/bomber was still intact and on the ground. Our small survivor group gathered around, and tried to raise High Command through any means possible. High Command had told us that similar attacks had happened all across the Frontier Defense Line. We were also told that at this point, trying to understand this 'civilization' was out of the question, and that we had to defend ourselves by any means necessary. They then asked for what the status of 'the weapon' was. I told them that one B67 was intact...

Nausea hit me and the overwhelming wave of defeat. My gut clenched and wanted to escape. I practiced my breathing until the dizziness went away, but I collapsed onto my knees. It was not doing any good. I removed my helmet and threw it on the ground. I spit up my stomach twice.

Eventually I gained the strength to get back onto my feet. I did not know where to begin. Many great men and women had been lost by death and by enemy captivity. The only survivors were tending to comrades or themselves. I watched as one of my men struggled for life. He was missing his right arm and his left leg was twisted by one-eighty. He lay slumped against debris; his head gazing at the skies. He coughed up blood and shook as if he was freezing. After a few minutes, he was motionless. His gun slipped from his still hands.

I had not realized, but someone was approaching me and they were limping slightly. It was[color="#1C2837"] Keegan Palimer. It was good to know someone who had survived too. His armor had been scorched and degraded but still intact. I could read his eyes: fear but also hope. The kind of hope you could only hold onto when you know in truth, there was nothing now that could help you.

"Sir! We have word that a few pods have been tagged! We are tracking their current location now. We'd like to know you're orders, sir."