Is it a drill or a war

Lieutenant Rex eagerly took out some cigarettes and tossed one to Private Willkins, lighting one up for himself as well. Taking a deep drag, he waved his hand interrupting their chat and exclaimed,

"Stop, stop stop! Check the armor, it's a right mess and needs to get to the workshop for repairs if we want to get back to tip top fighting form! Infantry without armor...tragic, I tell you!"

"Oh...right then," came their lackluster replies as they wearily opened up data slates, methodically reviewing the various readings.

Before they had finished, a dropship gently floated down twenty meters away, emitting the distinctive whine of its fusion drives. The Pelican transport nimbly pirouetted about before hovering steady nearby.

At nine feet long, four feet wide and three feet tall with a thousand pound cargo capacity and seating for six externally, the Pelican could hit 1,000 mph in-atmo and 25 mph out. It was one of the more advanced insertion craft available to the United Earth forces.

The pilot poked his head out the window, shocked at the giant millipede corpses littering the ground. After a pause he saluted the group.

"Oh my, you've truly showcased your prowess! Absolutely magnificent! Right then, heroes, all aboard!"

As they slowly made their way inside, those already on the ship smiled at the newcomers, each finding their place near the crew doors.

Novak held Wilkins tightly, feeling as though she was in a dream. If it weren't for his bold rescue today, she might have been buried in this wilderness, never to see this desolate world again.

War is a detestable thing, isn't it?

With a resounding thud, the hatch of the Pelican closed. As it accelerated beyond 3 Mach, a faint sonic boom shimmered across the vessel. After flying between the mountains and valleys for several minutes, the Pelican settled into a stable cruising speed.

A colossal alloy door on the cliff's face slowly retracted, revealing a downward-sloping tunnel. The transport ship flew straight in, swiftly maneuvering into an underground landing zone spanning nearly 50,000 square meters.

The group disembarked from the deck, casually surveying the rows of over 800 Pelicans parked there. Mechanics around them diligently inspected the ships, meticulously checking data and addressing any potential issues.

Rex gave Gale a hearty pat on the back and, leading the others, exited the hangar, heading towards the army camp.

The base facilities here were luxurious, providing uninterrupted hot showers even for low-ranking soldiers like Wilkins.

Not all extraterrestrial garrisons enjoyed such luxuries as a replenishing water supply.

N18 was one of the twenty-eight primary military bases on Halo Star, buried 3,800 meters below the surface. It accommodated over nine thousand personnel across armored divisions, air force units, ground forces, transport fleets, air defense, logistics, engineering, and supply units.

Halo Star boasted a total of over three hundred thousand soldiers, supplemented by space logistics vessels and sixty permanent ships—surpassing half a million military personnel ensuring Halo Star's safety.

Spanning twenty thousand kilometers and situated eleven thousand light-years from Earth, Halo Star possessed an atmosphere but lacked surface water. Oxygen levels stood at 20.7%. Its surface predominantly displayed red vegetation and harbored forty dangerous native species. Without extensive modification, it wasn't a primary habitat for humans.

Twenty years ago, rich metal ore, including uraninite and polonium deposits, ideal for manufacturing mechanical armor and warship hulls, facilitated rapid accumulation of military and economic assets. Military garrisons were deployed over a decade ago to safeguard this crucial resource planet.

Private Wilkins had been sent to Halo Star a year ago after completing basic training, assigned to a ground forces unit.

Just after showering and before getting dressed, his wrist communicator buzzed twice—a incoming call.

"Wilkins, my lad! You'll never guess what I've got—several pounds of premium Angus beef! Let's quickly tidy up this mess and whip up a delicious stew, shall we? Just the thought of that dish makes my mouth water!"

In truth, Rex and Wilkins hailed from New Albion, and Rex was particularly attentive to Wilkins among the group. The two got along famously.

Don't underestimate Rex. Serving for eleven years, he'd been in three minor altercations with xenomorphs and engaged in over twenty species-clearing operations on various planets. He was a seasoned veteran.

"Rex, we've run out of spices from last time. What should we do?" Wilkins inquired.

"Don't worry, my lad! Faro's got the ingredients ready for you to work your magic. I've stashed two bottles of top-notch brandy! I'll have Novak and Astra over and invite some lovely ladies with long legs, and we'll have a jolly good time!" Rex winked.

Wilkins widened his eyes. "Are you really planning to do that?"

"Just a harmless little drink, eh? As long as we're careful, I reckon no harm will come of it. Kid, as long as you keep it hush-hush, we'll be fine," Rex chuckled.

Apart from training, they'd been cooped up underground for months, utterly bored.

Wilkins had just finished tidying up when Rex burst in, brimming with enthusiasm, roaring, "Young man, it wasn't easy getting these! With my help, the chaotic kitchen is now spick and span. Faro's waiting there; I'll go fetch the lovely ladies."

Wilkins was dumbfounded. A married man, and he's still pushing for this? He shook his head in bewilderment, took what was handed to him, and contemplated how to prepare the long-awaited beef when suddenly the emergency siren blared.

He paused for a moment, then yelled, "Damn it! Why is there a damn drill now?