The great war is about to erupt

Rex pursed his lips in annoyance, grumbling, "Stuck on this goddamn planet, the higher-ups are just as bored. If we're not busy, they'll find excuses to kill time."

"But we just got out of a bloody skirmish," Wilkins protested. "According to garrison regulations, we're due at least two days' leave."

Rex rolled his eyes impatiently. "Rubbish! Didn't you hear the damn alarm? That's a level two emergency, mate. Leave or no leave, that's not for us to decide. We all gotta kit up," he pulled his friend to his feet. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Ah, just my luck," Wilkins groaned, though he staggered up and followed Rex out, stopping only to toss his bit of beef into his quarters as they raced past.

The two moved quick as lions. Within minutes they'd charged into the hangar bay, filled with transports, hatches flung wide. As loader mechs transferred supply crates into the ships, lorries rumbled back and forth.

More Marines poured through a dozen portals, rushing to their posts as tense activity filled the massive hangar. Rex breathed a sigh of relief as he chased Wilkins to Transport L028.

They jumped into the empty troop bay.

Rex frowned, glancing left and right, his earlier cheer fading away. "Something ain't right," he muttered darkly.

Wilkins blinked in surprise. "What d'you mean?"

Rex stared intently at the dozen crates stacked at the rear, eyes narrowing. "Take a butchers at those boxes just loaded," he muttered. "Mark IV fusion charges and infantry nukes. Strictly banned in peacetime."

Wilkins paled, breaking into a cold sweat. "You mean...this is war, Rex?"

"Could be," Rex grimaced, fishing out a couple cigarettes and passing one over before lighting his own. "If it's come to open war, likely the Raxillians are invading."

As if in response, the hangar speakers suddenly blared out a shocking voice. "Attention all personnel, this is Major Ryan, Marine battalion commander. We have just received word of a Raxillian invasion of Halo Planet. All combat teams report battle ready in ten minutes! I repeat, this is not a drill, not a drill!"

Wilkins' cigarette fell from limp fingers. Bloody hell, open war against the Raxillians? This wasn't like facing some alien critters, modern warfare meant there would be piles of dead Marines. The thought made his stomach turn queasily.

Rex clasped his shoulder bracingly. "Steady on, lad. No need to fret. Let's just get tooled up, check our new kit."

Wilkins wiped sweat from his brow with a shaky nod. "R-right..." He tapped the hidden bulkhead panel to open a set of digitized camouflage battle armor.

"New suits already? Good man, Gale."

Wilkins eyed the armor, taking a heavy breath.

"Garrison logistics, always on the ball. Enough gawping, gear up!"

"Yessir!" Wilkins activated the armor's onboard computer and input his service ID. The back plates split apart and he stepped into the suit. As the alloy plates closed around him the helmet lowered over his head, sealing him inside.

Systems were booting up in his helmet display as Wilkins turned to regard the troop bay.

He glanced at the small locker inside the bulkhead. Five fist-sized cubes lay within, glowing azure. He slapped his armored thigh and a slot opened. Taking three cubes, he slotted them into place.

These were high-density power cells, made for the infantry suits. The exotic alloy housed deuterium-fusion liquid, generating immense energy through micro-converters.

They were humanity's own making, distilled from Earth's oceans. Each could sustain max combat output for four to six hours or thirty hours routine use.

Rex regarded his actions knowingly. "A Raxillian invasion won't end quickly. Remember lad, weapons may be scavenged but power cells tend to blow with the wrecked armor. Can't replace those easily in the field. From experience, each cell represents half a life! Gotta carry extra cells."

Wilkins nodded, stowing another two cells in the side compartments meant for ammo clips.

Rex finished suiting up and was about to speak when Astra, Nova and Farlow arrived in a panic, fumbling with their armor.

Nova's voice quavered preparing her gear. "H-How can this be open war? I just read the dispatches before my shower - ten hours ago the Federation fleet scored a big win against the Raxillian 10th Legion at the Roca Cluster! Now they're suddenly at Halo Planet?"

"Yes, Roca Cluster is seven light years from here," Astra added. "Warp drives max out at 3 light year jumps. Factoring engine cooldown, they'd need sixty hours minimum to cover that distance!"

Rex grunted wryly. "Our brass got played again, plain as day! The Raxillians must've pulled a flank attack."

The squad traded uneasy looks.

Rex waved his hand encouragingly. "No fear lads and lasses! We survived thousands of Those Damn Bugs here, so we've got courage aplenty for this scrap!" He pounded his chest plate. "My oath we'll all make it back safe for steak dinners courtesy of young Wilkins!"

Just then a violent quake rocked through the deck, a good six on the Richter scale. Astra and Nova shrieked in panic, huddling low as they shook like leaves.

"On your feet! Helmets sealed and brace!" Rex bellowed. "That shaking is them softening us up before their landings and we're giving as good as we get!"

He motioned them up. "All the underground bases across Halo Planet extend over 3,800 meters down and are pumped full of ultracrete a hundred meters thick! Cageth tech is only slightly better than UEF standard - no chance they crack those bases swiftly! This campaign will bloody them badly!"

Rex thumped his plasma rifle confidently. "Twenty thousand garrison troops down there! No way the Raxillians take them quick. We only need to hold out a dozen hours for relief forces, boys!"

Somewhat heartened at the thought of reinforcements, the squad found their footing, twisting to engage armored collar locks with a resounding "Ka-chunk!" Three inch duralloy plates extended to seal them in heavy battledress, until each Marine stood as a 2.2m tall machine of war.

The deck continued juddering underfoot, but the team seemed to regain balance, checking ammo loads and securing weapons.