The craft flashed through the atmosphere, engines burning brightly as the lone Genesis pilot steered the empty craft towards a suitable crash zone. Locking in the target location he left the cockpit behind and entered the final drop pod just behind it. The thick metal frames slammed shut, the computer ran a final check, gel cushions activated and then the last supersoldier left the landing, sailing towards the slums that dotted this part of the planet. The man inside was calmly analysing his situation even as the internal pressure shot up as the cushions inflated to their maximum. Then the pod slammed into the ground with building-shattering force, fragmenting the old concrete and sending it flying all around. The pod's door opened and the heavily armoured soldier strode out, carbine already at the ready and Muninn jamming at full power to hide him from all sensors. He waited for a moment, allowing his sensors to orient themselves, then began running towards the zone where he had dropped off the rest of his team. Amidst the distant sound of the wailing sirens the suppressed coughing of the repulsor carbine provided a strong countermelody to the screams of the civilians as the supersoldier almost absentmindedly dispatched them along the way.

Dreamer's pod embedded itself into one of the countless apartments that dotted the slums they had selected as their landing zone. The massive shield domes that covered the countless depots and cities did not cover these places, and therefore this was where Genesis chose to infiltrate from. As concrete was pulverized, the locks on the pod flashed green and he stormed out, noting that this landing was vastly smoother than their previous one. No delay, no nausea to shake off. They hit the ground and were on the move in the same instant. All around him the others, spread in a rough area of half a kilometre wide, were emptying their pods. They had come in light, having only a handful of grenades and a single launcher with a set of missiles spread across the entire squad. Most of their carrying capacity was dedicated to their nutrition bars. Ensuring their continued access to sufficient calories would be difficult and time consuming if those ran out, given the rate at which they would be burning energy.

All of that played through his head as he finished attaching the last of the equipment to his armour. The mission parameters were clear. Already the area was beginning to fill with the screams of the dying as his squad eliminated all witnesses with cold, unforgiving efficiency. The goal of it was two-fold, as the constant, muffled sound of repulsor fire allowed them to find one another easily now that their HUD was no longer shared. He looked out of a nearby broken window and scanned the direction in which the Admiral had landed. She was still within her pod. He knew that. She had been unconscious before the impact, and would remain so for a while after. And as such, she was not moving. That was unacceptable. The squad needed to be together before a possible orbital bombardment could occur. They were vulnerable out here.

He leapt out of the broken window, his armoured feet crashing through a part of the old, cracked wall, and fell five levels down. He impacted on the ground with a bone shattering impact, which he shrugged off with ease, and sped off, his carbine coughing as he went in short bursts. All around him unarmoured hostiles were waking up. They were poorly dressed, did not share a uniform and were confused and unprepared. They did, however, begin to scream as those around them were mauled by well placed shots, spreading a wave of panic through the sector. He ignored it. It was impossible to silence them all. Speed was of the essence for now.

He reached the pod within the minute. It was lodged near the top of a building, having slammed into the roof of another one before bouncing through a balcony and making a final crash in a room nine levels up. His Muninn examined the structural integrity of the building ahead of him. Cracks in the concrete, estimated use of rebar, PSI values, all of those were taken in by the Svalinn's advanced sensor systems before it chimed and gave him a route. He flashed into the building as he quickly clipped his carbine to his back. Confused screams ran through the hall as he sprinted up the stairs. Occasionally a head would pop out of a room when he went by, but he ignored it. Speed was vital. A single strike would evaporate his squad. It was unlikely the Novicans would instantly resort to orbital bombardment, but no Genesis was willing to take that risk. They had to reach shield coverage as soon as possible.

He reached the ninth floor, took one look at the small door, then broke straight through the wall. A single hostile was in the room, small of stature, screaming in panic. Two more were present, but already deceased as the debris of the crash-landing had torn them apart. He eliminated the witness with a simple swipe, then grabbed hold of the metal bars, letting his onboard systems interface with those of the pod. As soon as the connection was established, he tore off the now unlocked doorframe and pulled the unconscious Admiral out. He threw her on his shoulder, adjusted his position to make up for the weight of his power armoured ally, and then set off in a sprint down the stairs again. This time he moved more carefully as the concrete cracked under his feet. The combined weight of his Svalinn, his equipment and himself was narrowly within tolerable measurements, but with the added weight of the Admiral and her power armour, he exceeded those tolerances with a dangerous margin.

Despite that he made it down, the stairs only shattering thrice under his rapid descent, and he cleared the building. And found his squad already assembled. The seven others were spread across a broad area, in cover, and indiscriminately terminating any hostile caught within their sights. As the panic had fully set in and people were running all over, it meant they had a target rich environment. They established quick links with one another, the small distance allowing them to re-establish a shared HUD. Return fire was negligent; only a handful of individuals were armed with small calibre firearms. They spoke briefly, shared their gathered data and set off into the dark of night, towards the nearest shield generator.

Cindy woke up with a sense of extreme dread and foreboding. She tried to jump to her feet, failed utterly due to being in power armour, and flopped back to the ground in a manner utterly unbecoming of anyone serving Naval Intelligence. She barely managed to withhold a series of swears and opted to look at her surroundings instead. What she found was a desolated warehouse, covered in bits of leftover machines and forgotten stock, but lacking the theatrical tarps that movies loved to put on them. And, she knew, those movies never showed anything like my new companions.

The massive Svalinn armour that the Genesis wielded made her own look small, even though she was standing at well above two metres with it. Despite this, she struggled to make them out. They were in cover, all of them, blending with the terrain in more ways than one. Their carbines were trained on the outside without fail. The difference between normal units was striking. There was no small gathering as plans were being discussed, no squad lead running about from soldier to soldier, while contacting the higher ups. No light hearted conversation either, yet at the same time there was nothing that indicated they were stressed. They had infiltrated, made a hot landing, infiltrated once more and were now biding their time.

"Are you functional?" came Dreamer's voice, causing her to jolt. The man himself was nowhere to be seen. Was he one of the Genesis she saw? Or was he in cover somewhere, perfectly camouflaged? He definitely wasn't in front of her.

"Functional?" she asked, before her mind translated it to something more human. "I'm conscious and able to fight, if that is what you mean," she replied. There came no vocal answer, but a small beep and a massive data packet. She opened it and her HUD filled itself with a map of their surroundings, nearby targets, estimated force strength, supply levels, possible scavenge areas, and far, far too much data for her to take in with just a few glances. The Genesis had been busy. She checked her timer. Only twenty-eight minutes into the mission, she discovered. And they'd already gathered this much intel. And, she realised, the only reason they hadn't set out to hunt yet, was because she'd been out cold. Verloff had been right. She was doing nothing but holding them back. Every time she thought she had fully understood that sentence, they came back around and hit her with something new and hammered the truth down even further.

"Status update, what happened since our landing?" she asked, hoping to get her bearing. She still couldn't trust them, still had to ensure her own survival against attacks from both foe and "friend". She needed more intel.

Another beep and more data packets arrived. She pieced the bits together and was rewarded by a surprisingly clear cut presentation of her pod's crash and her subsequent retrieval by Dreamer himself. As well as the almost casual way they cut down any and all opposition, as the footage showed. There was a blatant disregard for life there. The footage of Dreamer breaking into the room where she had crashed in was... shocking, for lack of a better word. He hadn't flinched, hadn't paused, hesitated or done anything similar. He had spotted the young girl and gunned her down without mercy. It was inhuman. But that is precisely what you people are, isn't it? she thought. Even Imperial soldiers didn't react too well when facing the innocence of youth. They'd do the job, but not without cost. And certainly not without pause.

Priority Six targets. Unarmed combatants. Not civilians. Not children. Stars above, they really see the world in black and white. It seemed cruel to her. Cold, merciless, but also incredibly efficient. It also raised countless more questions that desperately needed answering. Her idea of compiling a psych profile on her "allies" began to seem like an insurmountable task. The baseline that she had assumed they shared with other humans, seemed to be wholly absent.

She shook her head slightly. It wouldn't make her give up. If anything, the knowledge that they were so horrifyingly different made her all the more determined. She thought of all her brothers and sisters in arms. Of her baby boy. Of her late husband, who died fighting for the Imperial cause. Of the extracted specialists who had sacrificed so much. No, she vowed, I will not give up. Come heaven or hell, Eisel, I'll get to the bottom of this. And I'll survive this damned mission to give my report in person.

"Admiral?" came Dreamer's voice. It wasn't laced with concern, or any other discernible emotion, but the slight tilt of his helmet indicated an inquisitive line of thought. She stared at him for a bit, glad that she had found at least one tic she could translate. "Are you well? Your response is slow."

She resisted the urge to laugh. For years she had been lauded as being highly intelligent, as incredibly capable. To have a lightning wit and being capable of thinking on her feet, to react to changing situations with clear, quick decisions. And here she was, magna cum laude of her year, being called slow. By creatures who likely didn't even know what a university was.

"Let us go over your targets, Lieutenant," she commanded, pushing her rank back into her voice. "Show me what you are planning." She grinned behind her helmet. "And I'll fill in the gaps that your knowledge doesn't cover."

She knew she was being greedy. She wanted to be a part of the operation, learn to comprehend Genesis and see the mission brought to a successful end.

Better have that scrap heap ready, Verloff. Or I'll be really damned miffed after all this.