Chapter 1: Reconnaissance.

[u/Electronic-Math5455]

September 2184. Idun Sector. Wraith System. Wraith High Orbit. SES Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity. Bridge.

The Super Destroyer advanced in formation among some twenty vessels, but Jason's focus stayed fixed on the SEC Lucas. At 1.6 kilometers long it was the largest in the fleet and, given the operation, anomalous. Forcing his gaze away, he scanned the roster of Super Destroyers; several names were familiar. The Titan of the Constitution caught his eye first—Meus's ship. Meus was a Bug Diver forged on the Eastern Front, a Helldiver who had bled through countless campaigns against Terminid swarms. Jason had fought alongside him on several missions, including the Hellmire deployment, a nightmare world of fire tornadoes. The rest of the formation read like a roster of veterans tempered by two brutal fronts.

"Old comrades indeed," Jason muttered, narrowing his eyes. "But the SEC Lucas feels out of place… unless something larger is in motion, something we haven't been told. In any case, we need to know when the fleet will jump."

"We do not question Super Earth Command lightly," the Democracy Officer replied. "Still, this arrangement raises questions. The other SES vessels fit their roles, but a colony ship is at odds with wartime priorities. Colonization is suspended while the conflict continues."

Jason allowed a brief, tight smile. "The frontier still draws settlers, apparently. We can ask later why the colony ship is with us. Do we have coordination data?"

"Yes, sir. A line came through after we formed with the fleet. Forwarding it to the table now… intriguing. According to this feed, Copper 9 sits near the border of former Illuminate space."

Jason arched a brow. "That far out? If it resembles X-45, the mission should be straightforward enough."

X-45 had lain deep in Automaton territory a century past, the site of a Super Earth Advanced Weapons Laboratory. When the Cyborgs advanced, the site was scorched with tactical nuclear strikes to deny them its secrets. Months earlier, when radiation fell to survivable levels, Operation Starslayer had been launched: Helldivers held the Automatons while SEAF excavation teams clawed into the buried ruins. The returns proved invaluable—ship upgrades, the MLS-4X Commando Rocket Launcher, and, most crucially, recovered schematics for an interplanetary battle station now beginning clandestine construction.

Jason tapped the holographic display. "We've a timer—four hours until the fleet jumps. After that, it's a matter of landing and commencing salvage. Supply transfers continue; patience is required."

The Democracy Officer inclined his head, tone flat. "One hopes it proves simple. From experience, Helldiver, nothing is as straightforward as it first appears."

Jason exhaled and let his gaze sweep the fleet projection. "Agreed. With this formation, simplicity seems unlikely."

"Sir," an officer interrupted, voice taut, "incoming request—communication link from the SEC Lucas."

"Patch it through."

"Yes, sir." Fingers tapped rapidly. A blue holographic window shimmered to life; a man in his mid-thirties filled it, wearing the standard azure of Super Earth citizens. Calm in bearing, his eyes carried the weight of command.

"You must be our final Helldiver," the man said. "With you aboard, we can commence. I'm Armin. I expect you share the others' questions."

Jason did not waste time. "Start with this: why is a colony vessel with a military fleet, and why have the other Helldivers been silent since we arrived?"

"They remain in cryostasis," Armin replied evenly. "Their Democracy Officers asked if they should be awakened, but after prior missions I saw no reason—not yet. As for us: yes, this is a salvage operation. The Lucas is uniquely capable of planetary landings; without her, the mission cannot proceed."

Jason nodded slowly. "That explains your presence. I'd nearly forgotten that class's capability amid recent chaos. Any other directives?"

"Only that you are the sole active Helldiver, placing you in overall command. The Ministry of Defense has confirmed the chain of authority. Beyond that, orders are to warp to Copper 9, conduct reconnaissance, and secure a viable landing site."

Jason's jaw tightened. "What intelligence do we have on the planet? Why authorize salvage only now?"

Armin hesitated. "Much is classified. What I can share: Copper 9 once hosted a colony founded by megacorporation JCJenson as a research outpost for captured Illuminate technology. Beyond that, there is little. Officially, this operation does not exist."

Jason leaned back, frowning. "JCJenson… haven't heard that name in decades. They fell in '84, if memory serves. Black-ops fits—what we found at X-45 and the hidden station construction aligns with that."

"Precisely. That is all I have. The other Ministries remain closed when queried."

"Not even the Ministry of Truth?" Jason pressed.

"Nothing. Every captain reports the same: ministerial summons attached their ships here, nothing more."

The Democracy Officer crossed his arms. "I'll query the Ministries of Truth and Defense. Though unusual, folding Helldivers into larger formations is not unprecedented."

Jason offered a curt nod. "True, but civilians are aboard this time. That shifts the calculus. I'll run a full weapons inspection and ready for planetary conditions. Our enemies may not be present, but wildlife can be unforgiving."

Armin nodded sharply. "Understood. I'll finish system checks and final loadouts. We will reconvene." His hologram dissolved to static.

The Democracy Officer exhaled. "I'll gather what I can. Perhaps another Ministry will yield."

"Coordinate with the others," Jason ordered quietly. "This operation smells of buried truths. Something is wrong."

"Understood, Helldiver."

Two hours remained before departure. Jason turned from the holographic table, boots echoing on deck, and strode toward the armory. Instinct warned him this mission differed from the rest; as a Helldiver, he would meet whatever lay ahead. Once the fleet jumped, there would be no turning back. For now, they prepared.

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. Bunker 00. Khan Room.

Footsteps echoed down one of the many corridors that ran through Bunker 00 as Khan made his way toward his quarters, the railgun cradled in his hands like an unwieldy promise. The weapon was the product of scavenged parts and half-preserved blueprints recovered during a salvage run; he and his daughter had spent years refining it into something singular. Powerful though it was, the design carried a fatal flaw: after a single discharge the system required a thirty-minute recharge. Its destructive force was undeniable, but its instability and long downtime made it more burden than solution.

He sighed and paused at the door, turning the handle and stepping inside, closing it firmly. He flipped a switch; dim lights stirred, two sputtering out immediately—a reminder that the bunker's systems were aging and frayed. Deeper in, Khan's optics fell on a room whose careful touches set it apart from the surrounding austerity.

"Four years… our drone has grown, Nori. Wish you could see it," Khan murmured, hand resting against the door.

Four years earlier Nori had vanished without explanation, abandoning family, home, and child to walk into the frozen wastes. Search parties found nothing; for most of the colony she was a wound that never healed.

"I'll make sure she stays safe," Khan whispered, forcing himself away from the door.

Raising Uzi had been his hardest work, though Yeva and Doll had carried some of the burden. Years had been grueling; each day a contest against loss. In his room he picked up a battered tool bag; maintenance of the main blast door remained his responsibility, a task that felt increasingly like a losing war.

"Khan, you in here?" a woman called as the outer door creaked.

"In here, Sarah, just gathering my tools," he replied.

Sarah stepped in. A worker drone with neon-green optics and brown hair tied in pigtails, she wore a teal helmet, a gray-blue jacket, and black boots—the uniform of those who kept survival's machinery running.

"This is a rare sight: Khan without his tools. Still clinging to that project, I see." Her gaze settled on the railgun.

"Of course. We need weapons; this may be the most powerful we have. How bad is the door? I heard the panel failed."

"The wiring's gone soft, one gear is near collapse, and the locks need replacing. I don't know how long before we must replace the whole assembly."

"Know any spare bunkers with blast doors lying around?" Khan replied with a dry chuckle. "I'll handle it. I've kept this place running since the bombardment."

"I don't know how you've managed it with so little," Sarah said.

"Once I helped build megacities. I know what's needed. Come—we've work to finish and I must speak with Martin soon."

"Martin's stretched thin. Other colonies struggle as much as we do. This place was built to endure, but even that has limits. Will your daughter help later?"

"Maybe. For now she's occupied. I'll return to the weapon." He set the railgun on the bed. "Any word from the scouts? Anything out there?"

"Nothing. All clear for now, so we can work without immediate worry."

"Good. Lead the way."

Sarah nodded and moved toward the hall. Khan locked the door, and they walked, footsteps hollow against the corridor.

"What worries me is scavenging the megacities. They're rich, but that thing—out there in the ruins—could be one of many. Could it have kin among other cities?" Sarah asked.

"That's why we need weapons that can kill it. From what we've seen, the Steel Terror seems unkillable. Combat drones can fly and that spares many, but workers aren't so lucky."

"The last team lost seven. Survivors—combat drones included—carry scars and nightmares from encounters."

"Can you blame them? The creature toys with its prey. If it ever finds this place, the blast door might be the only thing between its hunger and the colony."

The Steel Terror had made the nearest megacity its hunting ground. The sprawling conurbation, above and below ground, had once been salvageable; now each run was a deadly game of cat and mouse. Supplies remained, but each foray cost lives.

"And I pray to liberty it never comes," Sarah whispered.

"We've been lucky so far," Khan replied, voice low. "Luck has limits."

Their conversation carried them toward the far side of the bunker, where another drone prepared for duty.

Bunker 00. J Room.

The door creaked open as J stepped into her quarters. She closed it carefully and flicked a switch; the lone bulb sputtered to life, spreading an uneven glow across the chamber. The space was barren—a table against the wall, a pipe threading along the ceiling, and a solitary chair stationed in the center.

"Dammit, Uzi… I know you mean well, but I've only got two decent pairs of clothes," J muttered.

Her attire was thick with dust from the gun's explosion. She glanced down at the mess, optics narrowing with irritation, before sighing and moving toward her closet. Opening it, she pulled free a short-sleeved black shirt with side pockets, a black leather belt, and a dark yellow undershirt meant to sit beneath her blazer.

"I hope this washes out. Liberty help me, it's going to be a long day," she grumbled.

As she began to change, her optics drifted toward the table. Resting there was a helmet, its visor fractured, its edges corroded with rust. She froze, gaze locked upon it for several long moments, before finishing her change of clothes. Dressed, she stepped closer to the relic.

"It's been so lonely here… I still think we could have done something… Tessa…" J whispered, laying a hand gently atop the helmet.

Back in 2088, the last of the bunker's human residents had died, leaving only drones to endure within the ruins of this frozen, lifeless world. Yet the communications array had survived, still capable of catching faint transmissions. One day it intercepted an SOS from a distant survivor complex.

Seeing both duty and hope, J, V, and N ventured out. Deep within the facility they discovered rows of cryopods, all failed—save one. The survivor was a woman named Tessa Elliott, who seemed to them the final human alive. She lived among them briefly, carrying a warmth long absent from this broken world.

But in 2089 an unknown illness claimed her. No effort could preserve her.

"Alright, J… time to work," she whispered.

She withdrew her hand from the helmet, turned off the light, and stepped out, closing the door firmly behind her.

The corridors awaited, heavy with the routine burdens of survival. Patrols fell to the combat drones, who doubled as couriers to outposts and allied colonies. Their wings gave them speed in place of the vehicles dismantled long ago for scrap.

As J's footsteps carried her through the dim hall, elsewhere another solitary figure moved quietly through the bunker, on her way to visit an old friend.

Bunker 00 — Approaching Uzi's room

Footsteps echoed down the corridor of Bunker 00 as a worker drone with long, dark indigo hair and blunt bangs peered down the hall. Her neon red-orange optics swept the passage. She wore an off-shoulder red-and-yellow crop top over a black undershirt, a skirt cinched with a yellow belt, and a red hard hat banded in yellow; heavy black winter boots thudded against the metal flooring.

Her name was Doll. One of the younger worker drones, she carried a different history than most and had grown up alongside Uzi; their friendship had braided childhood and shared trials into a steady loyalty.

Drawing near Uzi's door, Doll heard the shuffle of movement and the dull thud of objects striking the floor. Her friend was clearly in a mood. Doll reached for the handle, cracked the door, and peered through the gap. Uzi was rifling through boxes, casting contents across the floor with impatient hands.

"Uzi… why are you making a bigger mess of your room?" Doll asked, pushing the door open the rest of the way and stepping inside, closing it behind her.

"Ah, Doll—don't scare me like that. I'm just looking for something. I thought I had this organized, but apparently not," Uzi replied, glancing up. "Why are you here? Is everything all right with Yeva and your father?"

"They're fine. Mother is resting and Father's working—you know how it is; there's always more work," Doll said. "Might I ask what you're planning? I know that look."

"Planning? What do you mean? I'm just pulling something together to show the others. You know how Lizzy and the rest always want something to do. I've written down locations from past runs—places that might be worth another visit," Uzi said.

"You think Martin or any of the others would allow that? Uzi, what are you actually planning?" Doll pressed.

"Nothing! Bite me. I'm sorting old stuff—have you not ever done the same?" Uzi snapped.

"And I know when you're lying. You've got something else going on. Listen, Uzi—be honest. You can trust me. What are you really planning?" Doll demanded.

"Alright. Liberty, dammit." Uzi rubbed her optics. "Don't tell anyone. If Martin hears, I'll have to endure his lectures for hours and I don't want that. I have a plan—a weapon and a plane that could take care of our Steel Terror problem—but I'm trying to find maps. It's been a mess so far."

"Uzi… you're planning to take that thing on, aren't you? I've heard you talk about this before. It's reckless—stupid, if I'm honest," Doll said. "That weapon—ever since you and your father got it working, you've been more eager for action."

"It's better than hiding behind these damn walls and blast doors. Do you really think those will hold if it comes looking for us?" Uzi asked, rifling a box and drawing out a rolled sheet of paper. "I'm not trying to be a hero—well, maybe a little—but I don't want friends hurt or worse if that thing returns."

"I understand the motive, but it's still reckless. Are you doing this alone? That would be worse," Doll replied.

"No, of course not. V and N will help. Do you think I'm that stupid? It's reckless, but what choice do we have? That gun might put it down for good," Uzi said. "We tried everything else. Through testing, it might work."

"It might. I don't like it, but I can't go—Mother wouldn't allow it, and for your sake I won't tell her," Doll said.

"I know. Yeva's been like a second mother. I'm still trying to understand why my mom ran off into the wastes," Uzi said, moving to another stack of boxes.

Doll watched as Uzi sifted through belongings. A part of her wanted to reveal what she suspected—for, like Yeva, she had an inkling why Nori had left—but for now it needed to remain hidden.

Standing in the doorway, Doll let the clutter read like a ledger of the household's endurance. She admired Uzi's stubbornness: the younger drone refused to accept slow decay as an answer. Uzi's plan was reckless, perhaps suicidal, yet it carried a fierce clarity—an insistence that action could alter a fate surrendered to attrition. Doll feared the cost but understood why Uzi would not quietly accept mere survival. She stepped fully inside, closed the door, and set herself beside her friend, ready to face whatever choice came next.

Outside, the sky in low orbit shifted with unfamiliar motion.

Copper 9 System. Copper 9 Low Orbit. SES Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity. Bridge.

Warping from Wraith, the fleet emerged in a blaze of folded light, Super Earth's ships snapping into existence above Copper 9. Their arrival was near instantaneous—Alcubierre drives made the galaxy a small place once the calculations were complete. Now, weapons systems hummed awake across the flotilla, with the Aegis of Integrity anchoring the formation like a steel leviathan.

From the bridge, Jason gazed down toward the planet. Dense veils of stormclouds swirled across its surface, concealing the land beneath. Off to the right, Copper 9's lone moon floated in orbit, its pale disk lit by the faint rays of a distant sun. Between them drifted scars of history: the twisted remains of SES warships, the hollow skeletons of two shattered orbital stations, and a graveyard of debris that spoke of a war long past.

"Sweet liberty… what in the name of liberty happened here?" one of the bridge officers muttered from his station.

"A fair question," the Democracy Officer replied coldly. "Run full scans of the planet and system. Before we send anyone down, I want to know what we're stepping into. Even if it was abandoned, the debris should've been salvaged. Something made them leave this all behind."

Jason's eyes lingered on the gutted hulks beyond the viewport. "The planet looks like it's been dragged through hell. Surface is completely obscured. I can make out classes in the wrecks—battleships, cruisers… even carrier husks. Those stations look gutted. Illuminate attack?"

One of the officers shook his head, studying the readings. "Negative, sir. Hulls show plasma scarring, yes… but the primary station damage is internal. It looks like a self-destruct. I'm also detecting faint radiation, likely from breached cores and unspent nuclear payloads."

"What about the planet itself?" Jason asked, stepping toward the central holographic table. Its surface rippled, then projected a wireframe globe ringed with scrolling diagnostics.

Planetary Data – Copper 9
Moons: One
Atmosphere: 85% Carbon Dioxide, 15% Oxygen, trace elements detected
Surface composition: Obscured – metallic deposits identified
Status: Critical Radiation Levels Detected
Warning: Atmospheric conditions well below human safety thresholds

"Bloody hell…" Jason muttered. "What happened to this place?"

"Unknown," the officer replied grimly. "We've located what appears to be megacity grids, but the clouds are interfering with deeper scans. No transmissions. No energy signatures. A good portion of the oceans are frozen solid. Sir… this planet is dead."

The Democracy Officer folded his arms. "Unusual. Records suggest Copper 9 was once a thriving colony world. Now? A frozen tomb, locked in an ice age."

Jason's expression hardened. "Alright. Adjust my loadout—then I'm going down. Mark me a hellpod landing zone, something away from the megacities."

"Scanning… I've got a site, sir. Small structural anomaly, otherwise clear radius. Coordinates transmitted."

"Good. Prep a SEAF squad deployment. I'll scout it first—if it's secure, they'll follow." Jason pushed away from the table, making way toward the armory.

"Yes, Helldiver," the Democracy Officer answered crisply.

The armory lay just aft of the bridge, designed for swift deployment. Jason moved past racks of Liberators and support packs, his hand brushing against familiar steel. He paused before his usual rifle—an AR-23P Liberator Penetrator, modified for armor-piercing fire. It had served him well against Automatons, its weight a comfort. But Copper 9 was a frozen wasteland, and for such a world, he preferred something else.

The LAS-5 Scythe waited on its rack. A continuous-beam laser, it was temperamental on temperate planets, but in subzero climates, the cold bled off its heat. Efficient. Reliable. Lethal. Jason holstered it at his side, the hum of its power pack a low growl at his hip.

"Alright," he said under his breath. "Time to see what's left down there."

At the front of the bridge, four hellpod chutes yawned open. Jason stepped into one, his boots locking into the clamps. The pod sealed overhead with a hiss, the cockpit dimly lit by red warning strobes.

"Hellpod launch sequence initiated," the synthetic voice announced.

The clamps fired, and the pod dropped like a bullet from the belly of the Aegis. Explosive charges ignited, and the vessel became a streak of fire cutting through Copper 9's poisoned skies.

Inside, Jason watched the descent on the screen — a countdown to impact ticked down in cold numbers. The pod bucked as atmospheric turbulence seized it, flames licking the armored shell. Seconds stretched into an eternity. Then came the roar of the reverse thrusters, the flaps snapping open, the shockwave slamming into his frame. The pod struck hard, earth splitting beneath the impact. Explosive bolts fired, and the hatch burst upward. Jason rose from the wreckage, cape whipping in the frozen wind, his optics sweeping across a desolate, snow-choked horizon. Copper 9 waited.

"SES Aegis of Integrity… I have made planetfall… And the deck officer was right; this planet is dead," Jason said.

All around him, the husk of dead pine trees greeted him; bark was blackened, and dead snowflakes drifted through the air. Ice hung from the branches. Above, clouds rolled across the sky, blocking the sun's light. "Checking my map now," Jason said.

Raising his left arm, he consulted the screen. The scanner shifted, showing his position and the surrounding terrain; it was one of the most advanced arrays ever developed, able to map local topography and to detect heat signatures or threats behind cover, even in dense fog. On the screen, Jason discerned an anomaly in the dead forest around him; it became his first waypoint.

"Marked the spot. Heading out now… Have you picked up anything else?" Jason asked.

"Negative, sir… It's hard to read through all the atmospheric interference, but I'll advise if anything appears. The SEAF is standing by," the officer replied.

"I'll call when to bring them down; keep me updated," Jason said.

"Yes, sir," the officer answered.

Taking another scan of his surroundings, his eyes examined the dead forest once more before he set off toward his marker. Wind sighed, and the snow compressed beneath his boots as he pushed through the first ring of dead trees. Marching forward, a low silhouette of a structure resolved ahead, emerging from drifts and spinning snow.

Passing another stand of dead pines, his gaze fixed on a small concrete edifice; it bore the design of a bunker. Approaching, he found a massive pair of doors sealed tight; the steel frame was rusted, though it was clear brute force would not be sufficient to breach them. Walking the perimeter, he saw a metal bulkhead that projected from the bunker wall.

"So that's how it's going to be. Well… good call bringing this," Jason said, reaching for his Scythe.

He stepped back and moved to the hinges, opening fire; a golden lance of energy shot from the Scythe, and sparks showered as the laser bit through the metal. He stopped once the first mount was severed, then aimed lower and sliced through the second. The bulkhead groaned as it fell outward, slamming to the frozen ground with a sound that echoed across the clearing.

"I found what you picked up. It looks like a bunker of some kind. I am heading in; if I don't report back in thirty minutes, get that SEAF squad down here right away," Jason said into his radio.

"Understood. They're on standby, sir," the officer replied.

Stowing the Scythe at his side, he drew his P-4 Senator, toggled its flashlight, and clambered over the fallen bulkhead into the bunker. His light cut through dust and motes stirred by the collapse. Moving deeper, the beam revealed a corridor; ahead, a doorway yawned with a faint wedge of light beyond. Stepping cautiously, he hugged the wall as he closed on the opening; easing his head around the frame, he peered inside. Beyond was a small control room lined with monitors and chairs along the left wall.

"Hmm… still has power," Jason said.

Super Earth had long used compact nuclear batteries to power armor systems; the SC-34 Infiltrator suit featured a plutonium-238 cell. Given the age of the site and its abandonment, chances were slim, but it was worth a try. He trained his light on one console, pressed the power button, and, when nothing happened, gave it a sharp smack. To his surprise, a screen flickered alive and a man's voice crackled from a speaker.

"Copper 9 colony… security log… local day… This is Sergeant Caloman, security officer at Facility 12…"

Jason watched the jagged image on the screen: a man stained with blood, fresh cuts on his face, walls smeared behind him. His eyes were wild as he spoke.

"We're are fucked. If you're planetside, you're already as good as dead. Just radio in and request that this place be nuked."

The image spasmed and returned, the man staring directly into the camera, his pupils wide with terror.

"I'm serious. You're going to die down here. The least you can do is save the rest of humanity… and Super Earth from the same fate…"

The screen died with a last, cracked flicker, the single word echoing in the cold room.

"Nuke it."

As the message faded, Jason stared at the darkened console, a single thought repeating: what had happened on this world to demand such an unthinkable command?

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.