A few concerned glances are given to the fully kitted fireteam of System Defense Force Marines as they march across the courtyard. Officially prohibited from engaging in any armed-conflict on Earth, the armory at the Los Angeles Training Facility was concerningly well stocked; enough armor and armaments to outfit at least four standard squads of S.S.D.F. Marines in urban warfare kits (with no objections to why the Force stored such kits in the first place).

“Meeting Hall Four.” Admiral Tucker guides as they enter the facility’s main building. “Ready?”

Bulked up by plates of white ceramic, the motley crew of Marauder Squad were turned into full blown riot control officers. Much more armor than afforded up in orbit, a few of them stumble with the increased mass.

“A bit heavy?” Corporal Mercier catches Master Sergeant Ling as he slips.

“You’ll understand Corporal.” Lieutenant Keys nods as he steadies Ling’s other arm. “Spend a good four months up there and you’ll start to feel it.”

“Alright remember, no explosives allowed.” Admiral Tucker pauses as he adjusts his uniform, himself the only unarmed person in the entire group.

“Are you sure you are ok with no body armor?” Master Sergeant Ling asks.

The Admiral nods. “Trust me, Officer Solomon might be a dick but I’ve known him since I was with the U.S. Space Force forty years ago. I wouldn’t put it on him to start a fight… at least not one with guns and fists.”

“Even though the recent developments show otherwise?” Keys asks.

Admiral Tucker pauses. “Let’s hope for the best, forty years is a long time after all.”

Captain Perez adjusts the strap on her holster, the heavy-weight handgun unusual on the hip of a woman trained in zero gravity. She speaks up, words slightly venomous with implication. “That’s a long time to be friends with someone.”

The old man cracks a frown. “Who said anything about being friends?”

Built into the primary training facility, the windowed meeting room offered a commanding view of downtown Los Angeles. Lit by natural light, the current position of the trio of Orbital Security Corporation Representatives had the entire city at their backs, watching like hawks as Admiral Tucker is escorted into his chair at the far end of the table.

Two operators in gray camouflage fatigues; a tall, lanky male figure and an even taller female one flanks a single officer wearing a well maintained formal uniform.

One of the last remnants of an era of Corporate dominance in orbit, the Orbital Security Company and its subsidiaries have endured the folding of its holding company Nanshan Industries, legal battles against the United Nations, and numerous raids by the United States’ F.B.I.

Although its interests lie within many different aspects of space flight; materials science, intellectual property ownership, and corporate investment to name a few, the true powerhouse of the Corporate Entity lay within the military contracting prowess of its Orbital Security subsidiaries and its legions of private contractors.

Created by the merging of three major orbital defense corporations, the company was in essence a privately run orbital super-power answering only to United States Law (the company’s legally designated headquarters), the U.N.’s Articles for Space Development, and its shareholders.

Given the Corporation’s once lofty status as the de facto military contractor for orbital warfare, the Solar System Defense Force has been the company’s bitter rival since the Force’s founding. At first pitted against a well-entrenched and wealthy opponent; time, luck, and public opinion have not been on the Corporation's side. With the backing of powerful nations and the political maneuvering of a certain System Defense Force Admiral, the Orbital Security Corporation now desperately defend their last few contracts with almost suicidal conviction. And at the forefront of this defense; their Orbital Security Divisions.

Recruited exclusively from personnel retired from the Solar System Defense Force, the elite O.S.D.s of their many subsidiaries, such as Arsenal-Vertigo, were in essence their Special Operations Branch. Trained soldiers for hire, the four hundred or so Operators the overarching company maintain are prized among the many Corporations operating in orbit as military grade defense contractors.

And their clients are charged for their services accordingly.

But despite being cornered legally and politically, the Orbital Security Company still rakes in a sizable amount of income for Orbital Developments, and many financial analysts still hold the Orbital Security Company (NASDAQ: ORSC) in high regards.

Officer Carter Solomon stands from the chair respectfully, the well-built man sharing the same aging features as Admiral Tucker. Blue eyes stare at the old Flag Officer’s brown irises, the man’s north American accent unidentifiable in locale. “Admiral Tucker…”

“Good to see you again, Carter.” The Admiral answers with a slight snap. “I’m glad you’re doing fine.”

“I am as well.” Officer Solomon nods, glancing at the figures surrounding the Admiral. “I thought we were having this meeting… alone.”

Admiral Tucker stares down the old man’s two guards in response. “Me too. Though, we both know that sometimes having a few friends can help just to hammer in a point.”

Taking a deep, consolidating breath, Officer Solomon grumbles. “In that case we can simplify the whole matter, some of this information is classified so I don’t believe that any of you outside Task Force Thirty One are allowed to view it.”

Admiral Tucker remains motionless. “Of course. If you don’t mind, I’ll need everyone who isn’t in Task Force Thirty One or with Officer Solomon here to leave this room.”

Nobody budges, the awkward silence following for half a minute of stillness.

“So I assume that this is the Marauder Squad?” Solomon asks curiously as he motions to the group. “Your little program is going off the training wheels a bit quick, assembling a SPEC-WAR squad like this in less than two months is crazy even for your ventures.”

“Well you know how it goes.” Admiral Tucker smiles. “So, you have everything I asked for?”

Taking out from his briefcase, a thick binder is slid across the table. “Archival architectural plans, satellite photos, and a few tactical analysis included along with it. Everything the O.S.C. knows about Site-3, it's there.”

“I hope this won’t end your career.” The Admiral jokes as he begins to peruse the cover. “Giving a S.S.D.F. Officer something this confidential… “

“Trust me, the benefits outweigh the costs. I hope you understand that.”

“Of course.” Admiral Tucker snaps his fingers, Master Sergeant Shu Ling setting a mute charge on top of the table. “We will be having a conversation in Private. I’ll get back to you in a few minutes Carter.”

Nodding in confusion, the corporate agent watches as the bubble of silence envelops half the room.

“He looks like a dick.” Captain Perez notes once the charge confirms its status.

“He is a dick.” Admiral Tucker answers, opening up the binder. “He’s the 2nd in command for Arsenal-Vertigo’s 3rd Division, you don’t get that far without some dirty politics and assassination.”

Corporal Mercier perks up. “Assassination?”

The Admiral laughs. “He tried to kill me once, you know? Back when the Force was still just seven guys and a dream.”

“He tried to kill you?!”

“Couldn’t trace it back to him of course, but I’m pretty sure he was behind it.”

“And he’s sitting across the table right now?!”

“We both know it helps to have friends in high places. Just gotta know what to trust them with.”

In silence Marauder Team watches as Admiral Tucker peruses through the binder, images of desert landscapes and vertical launch platforms flashing past. Without a single motion the Admiral speaks to his subordinates. “I hope I haven’t spoiled your guys’ next OP. If so, I’m not saying anything else.”

“Who the hell uses rockets in 2074?” Lieutenant Keys asks as he takes a peek at the information.

The Master Sergeant speaks up. “Air Forces for nuclear weapons, Peking University for college courses, and Java Treaty…” He pauses. “I assume, that this is Java Treaty thing?”

“What gave it away?” Admiral Tucker removes a photograph from one of the plastic sleeves, handing it over to the group.

A massive hundred meter tall rocket is plastered against a backdrop of snow tipped mountains, the launch complex beneath it dwarfed by sheer scale. Black markings surrounding the cylindrical frame were put against a primarily white coat of paint; an almost camouflaging pattern crossing across its surface area.

Captain Perez, with her commanding experience of orbital warfare, is the first to identify it. “A Buraq Rocket, homegrown Java Treaty tech made from a joint Pakistani-Iran project. They use those for launching heavy, unmanned payloads. Mostly military satellites, though I’ve heard that it’s been used to get Spec-Ops Teams into Lunar Orbit.”

“It’s a satellite.” Lieutenant Keys points out on the physical print. “That payload fairing up there doesn’t have any aerodynamic breaks, which means whatever they’re flying has got to be unmanned.”

Master Sergeant Ling turns to the Lieutenant with a curious smile. “I did not know you knew Aerospace Engineering.”

Admiral Tucker speaks up for the Lieutenant as he finishes the final pages of the binder. “It’s a required class in the college curriculum, Combat Engineers double up on an engineering degree and zero-gravity combat courses.”

Lieutenant Keys nods, speaking the unspoken question. “So why is this Java Treaty Satellite so important?”

“Well we’re here to find out aren’t we?” Admiral Tucker motions for the photograph. “Intel’s got reports that they’ve been launching these sorts of payloads every other week. Normally that’s not much of a concern, but the fact that this rocket they’ve put on the pad is the largest of the bunch has got the Admiralty concerned.”

Switching off the mute charge, Admiral Tucker finds his thoughts with a deep breath. “I suppose the O.S.C. will be wanting the satellite on the rocket.”

A look of surprise is shown, Officer Solomon chuckling. “Admiral…”

“Why does the O.S.C. need a Java Treaty Satellite anyway?” The Old Man asks. “You could just call up your buddies in Kilo-Nine to build you one hassle free, unless this is something special.”

“Admiral, we’ll need this payload launched into Low Earth Orbit, information on its intended orbital pattern, operational frequency, and command codes.”

“You should ask a Java Treaty General for that. I don’t have the authority nor the intel to give you in the first place.” Admiral Tucker states.

“But you will know, at least if you people are running an Operation on Site-3 within the next month.” Solomon notes. “I’m sure achieving all those stated requests will make me indebted to you again.”

“And you’re assuming that we’re going to be running an OP on this location?”

“Well, word travels around. Task Force Thirty One’s got the top talking about the end of the Company.”

“Well they might be right.” The Admiral informs with a low growl.

“Either way, I’ve never known you to ask for Intel and not act on it, especially something this juicy.”

“Well you know me. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing no.” The man stands. “Thank you Admiral.”

“I said is there anything else?”

There’s a pause, the Corporate Officer staring down Admiral Tucker with a scrunched look.

The Admiral is the first to break the stalemate. “I need the direct line and contract to the individual we spoke about.”

“Oh Cherny?” Officer Solomon scoffs. “You’re not getting him, he’s not available for your little ‘transfer’ no matter how much you butter up my boss. Forget it.”

Admiral Issac Tucker keeps a stern face, waiting five seconds before speaking up. Words ice cold, utterly emotionless as he asks the question. “How many did you send?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many did you send on your little ‘raid?’”

The Officer chuckles as he shakes his head dismissively. “Admiral, I have no idea…”

“The System Defense Force might not have an official intelligence arm, but I assure you we are not in the dark.” The old man reaches into his own uniform, pulling out a stack of documentation. “And don’t you think of me as an old fool.”

Eyes shoot open wide as recognition arrives to the Corporate representative. Orders, classified to the highest degree staring back at the man with utter disappointment. “How did you…”

“This goes deeper than you can imagine Officer Solomon.” Admiral Tucker states. “What I need from you now is three things: tell me exactly why the O.S.C. wants this Java Treaty satellite, a full tactical breakdown on your raid, and a list of all the Operators you managed to get killed two weeks ago.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Standing up, the man forces a smile. “I’ll be seeing you later, Admiral.”

“You’re not leaving this room.” The Admiral waves and behind him his subordinates ready their weapons.

The locking of electronic firing mechanisms, both sides ready to execute at a moment’s notice.

Officer Solomon laughs. “You can’t keep me in here. Regulations…”

“Might I remind you that we’re Task Force Thirty One. I could have the Master Sergeant here bury you three in the courtyard, no questions asked.”

“Is that a threat?”

Admiral Tucker smiles. “I hope not.”

With full urban combat armor on, Master Sergeant Ling Shu was completely divorced from his usual air headedness. Charging the handle of a submachine gun covered in too many attachments, the helmeted man stares all of them down.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t.” The Admiral agrees. “And I don’t think the Master Sergeant here would do anything of the sort even if I did order him to do it. But, I’ll still need the three things I’m asking for.”

“Even if I did have all your needed information, why would I give it to you?” Officer Solomon chuckles as he stands. “And I know in good faith that if you stop me here you can forget running any Operation on Site-3.”

“You’re gonna tell the Java Treaty we’re coming?” The Admiral raises an eyebrow. “That’s cold, even for you.”

“That’s assuming that I don’t walk out of here, of course.” Solomon smiles as he waves forth his guards. “Goodbye Admiral.”

The door is kicked in from the outside, the entrance filled with the form of an instantly recognizable Sergeant Major.

Silence as Officer Solomon backs up slowly in shock.

“How long has she been there?!” The Officer roars as he shuffles back.

“Long enough!” Sergeant Major Lee screams back as she pushes aside both Ling and Mercier.

For a tender moment she points over to the pair of Corporate guards, recognition filling her eyes. “Greyson, Durney!”

“Ma’am.” Both answer simultaneously.

“Hey you two free for dinner after this? Haven’t heard from you kids since you left the Force.”

Wiping away the surprise from their faces they barely register the body thrown across the table. With strength beyond that of a person her age, Officer Carter Solomon is tossed like a ragdoll by the Sergeant Major straight into the wall.

A pitiful wheeze comes from the man as he hits the floor, Sergeant Major Lee grabbing the man by the scruff of his uniform collar as she shoves him against the cold concrete. For a moment they lock eyes, her growl reaching into souls. “Alright listen fucko, you’re going to tell our nice friend over there everything he needs to know. Because no matter how much you pay these kids…” She motions towards the pair of guards, watching as they take a few careful steps towards them. “I trained them. Don’t forget your little Orbital Security Division is made of MY MARINES. You send them to fucking die, you answer to me do you understand?!”

Officer Solomon grits his teeth, turning to his guards. “Get this bitch off of me now!!!”

“STAY RIGHT FUCKING THERE!!!” The woman roars, and the pair back off instantly.

“Fuck!” The Corporate Officer tries to fight his way out, sending a knee right at the Sergeant Major’s abdomen.

Completely unfazed, she stares him down. “Try that again and I’ll have you digging a hole out in the yard.”

“You wouldn’t…”

Everyone in the room stares with appropriate concern, Admiral Tucker speaking up with as calm a tone as possible. “Sergeant Major… please let go of Officer Solomon.”

“Shut the fuck up Admiral.” The woman cuts.

“Seriously man, she’ll snap your neck.” Lieutenant Keys and one of the Operators say the same time, exchanging a glance of universal comradery.

“Awww…” The Sergeant Major smiles as she lifts the man off the ground. “You can pay your little soldiers all the cash in the world, but you’ll never buy their unconditional, unquestionable loyalty. I could wring your neck right now and they’d just fucking watch.”

“FUCK!” The man screams. “The satellite is a Saytara-9, an orbital radio repeater. The Company wanted to repurpose it as a central communications relay hub. I swear to God that was all we wanted!!!”

“And that thing has the capability to do what?” Admiral Tucker calmly asks.

“It has enough power to get a signal across Earth’s entire orbital sphere.” Officer Solomon’s breath quickens as he continues. “That’s all I know!”

“Across the entire thing?”

Sergeant Major Lee pushes the man further into the wall, his answer now desperate. “Yes!”

“If that’s the case then that’s one hell of a satellite.” Captain Perez comments calmly as she rubs her fingers on her chin in thought. “Full orbital coms coverage, no offense Admiral I think my Comms Officer would kill to have one deployed out in Geostationary just to make it easier to connect to the networks.”

“We toyed with that idea.” Admiral Tucker admits. “But having all your eggs in one basket was too risky. Plus, the SAT-COM array was much cheaper by comparison… despite the ping issues.”

A groan comes from Officer Solomon. “I told you what you wanted. Get off of me!”

“Not yet.” The Sergeant Major growls. “Who did you send out?!”

“Fuck I DON’T KNOW!”

Lieutenant Keys scoffs. “2nd in command of Arsenal-Vertigo and doesn’t even know who they’re sending on an illegal op…”

“Unlikely?” Master Sergeant Ling asks.

“Very unlikely.” Captain Perez tilts her head.

“Actually, it’s impossible.” Admiral Tucker confirms. “What do you think Corporal?”

Standing completely still the young woman nods. “I agree.”

“Who did you send?!” The Sergeant Major grips.

“I don’t fucking know, I’ll need to check…”

“That’s pretty messed up.” Lieutenant Keys observes.

“可恥...” Master Sergeant Ling shakes his head.

“And you guys are willing to die for this guy?” Admiral Tucker leans back in his chair, staring at the two Corporate Operators. “Not trying to poach or anything, but when the contract negotiations come around next month you guys should seriously reconsider signing back on.”

“I’ll get you the names I swear just let me go.”

“You’re not leaving this room until you get me those fucking names do you understand?!” Releasing the man the Sergeant Major stretches her neck. “Make it quick.”

For a tense moment Sergeant Major Lee turns to the two Corporate Guards, serious expression fading into a light smile. “So, you kids good for dinner?”

The male Operator, name plated Greyson, speaks up with a slight crack. “We’re flying back to Orlando in three hours…”

“Oh that’s disappointing.” The Sergeant Major sighs, turning to the assembled staff of Task Force Thirty One. “Well, the offer still stands for the rest of you. I can buy some steaks on the way back to my house.”

“Yes we’d love dinner.” All of them answer at the same time.

“Loyalty.” The Sergeant Major points towards the Marines, gazing back to the Corporate Operators. “You sure you don’t want to take the evening off? O.S.C. probably doesn’t need you on a Friday, does it?”

The indecision marks on their faces, Greyson taking a deep breath before answering. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but our assignment is to make sure Officer Solomon returns safely back to Orbital Tower.”

“Mmm.” The Sergeant Major nods, turning back to the Officer. “You better hurry…”

“I have the list.” The Officer grumbles. “You want me to read it out loud or do you just want to copy it?”

“I have a copy here.” Admiral Tucker announces as he flips through his own notebook.

All eyes lock with the old man. “What?!”

“Just wanted to see your ass get kicked Carter.” The Admiral solemnly stares as he hands the sheet of paper to the marines behind him. “I’ve got connections too.”

Twelve Marines.

Each of them written and remembered, the entire room remains still as Lieutenant Keys reads the names.

His reaction is visceral as he steps back. “Fuuuck that’s our medic…”

“什麼?” Ling turns quickly.

“Our medic to be is on the fucking list.” The Lieutenant points out as he pushes the paper towards the Master Sergeant. “See?”

“Give me that!” Sergeant Major Lee charges from nowhere, snatching the fragile sheet away from the two.

Silence as they watch her read the names.

“Cherny was the best medic in training I’ve ever seen, West would always eat too much at the mess, Allen’s English was hot garbage but he learned fast, Zhou was already engaged when he signed up… Yin, Carman, Rand, Mannessen, Murphy, Andreevich, Parry, Lloyd.” The Sergeant Major remembers. “You sent them to fucking die.”

“That’s exactly what you do all the fucking time.” The Officer points out. “You drill the will to live out of these fucking kids and you expect them to sacrifice themselves for what?! At least we’re paying them a decent fucking amount to die for.”

Admiral Tucker shifts his gaze over to Sergeant Major Lee. A right hand loose in preparation, brown eyes glazed over in rage; tragedy and pain turning into unrefined, uncontained emotion. Decades spent with her arrives in a single sentence spoken gently and quietly. “Katherine… don’t.”

A deep breath is taken, the old woman pushing back against a closing cone of vision.

“If we’re done here Admiral, I will take my leave.” The Corporate Officer puts his phone back in his pocket, retrieving the now empty briefcase as he readjusts his wrinkled uniform.

“Back to Orlando tonight?” The Sergeant Major asks as she stares into the wall.

Stopping next to the old woman, Officer Solomon meets the Admiral’s eyes across the table. “Keep your mistress on a short leash, Isaac.”

The only two people fast enough to react are Master Sergeant Ling and Corporal Mercier, and even then the Master Sergeant is just a hair faster.

Caught mid-swing Sergeant Major Lee is restrained by the two marines, wild rage surging against the Officer. “Let me fucking go!”

Admiral Tucker sighs. “Go easy on Ling he’s been in Zero-G for two months.”

Freeing an arm the woman lunges forth, stopped only by the small frame of Corporal Mercier as the girl latches on.

“Sending the most lovable of the bunch?!” The Sergeant Major turns to the Admiral with rage.

“They’re the fastest.” Admiral Tucker grimaces.

“Nothing more than an animal.” Officer Solomon scoffs at the woman’s face. “If this is what the S.S.D.F. has been reduced to then the Company has nothing to worry about.”

Gritting her teeth the old woman continues to struggle at her bonds. Watching as the group leaves the room she finally relents.

“Fuck…” The Sergeant Major finally goes limp. “FUCK! If I get my hands on that fucker…”

“We have what we need, Admiral?” Captain Perez glances over to the woman with a bit of concern.

“Yeah.” Admiral Tucker waves, and both her captors release her.

“Sorry Madam.” Master Sergeant Ling nervously smiles.

Taking a deep breath as she massages her shoulder, the woman chuckles. “No problem. You two gotta spar with me some time, I think you might be the first people to really beat the shit out of me.”

“Really?” Corporal Mercier blinks.

“She’s just getting old.” Admiral Tucker sighs. “Fucking hell Katherine, how did you know something was going down?”

“I have connections too… Issac.” The Sergeant Major answers.

Admiral Tucker sighs. “Well it went as well as I expected.” Slapping the binder, the man shakes his head. “But I do have some good news regarding this.”

The entirety of the unit stops as they stare at the Admiral, his answer given from a nefarious smile. “Not all of ‘em are dead.”

“What?!”

“Orbital Security Company’s been in ransom talks for the past week and a half. They’re holding a few members of the raid party hostage, specifically the one that you guys need.”

“Cherny.” Sergeant Major Lee’s eyes widen at the words. “You’re fucking kidding me?!”

“Sorry Sergeant Major, but that’s all I’m privy to say here.”

“Issac you fucking…”

“Wait does that mean…” Lieutenant Keys interrupts.

“We’ll discuss this further when we’re back on Station Four.” The Admiral shuts them down, pausing as he holds the binder. “Markov will probably be wanting this after we’re done, if he hasn’t already gotten wind of our little visit.”

“Probably the first email on your desk tomorrow.” Sergeant Major Lee confirms as sighs. “I need to get back to the Tank. And for all of you kids: meet up at the front gate at 1800 this evening, your P.T. begins right then so carb up before dinner.”

A slight confusion between Task Force Thirty One, the old woman turning to Tucker. “You didn’t tell them did you?”

The Admiral smiles. “Well I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“What is the nice surprise?” Ling asks immediately.

“To get you ready for your next OP.” Admiral Tucker blinks. “I asked her to whip you guys up back into shape.”

The marines stare at the old man with wide eyes. “You did not…”

“Your old man gave me a week and a half.” Sergeant Major Lee chuckles as she strolls out of the room. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She stops at the door, turning around to face Admiral Issac Tucker. “And if you send these kids to die I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

He smiles back at her. “I would expect nothing less.”