Welcoming Party

The Amalga Dimension. The cosmic scar in the universe that precedes recorded history, and continuously defies assumption and imagination, since it's discovery by the young, interstellar humanity centuries before. When the First Explorations began, many would enter, and few would return. Yet the stories from those few pioneers were enough to pique the interest of mighty nations. Stories of harsh beginnings, new discoveries, scientific achievements, walking into alternate universes, phenomenon that could only be described as magic, and the highly coveted artifacts that are said to allow one to achieve godhood.

As amazing as the stories were, however, humanity was young, and were not willing to risk what they currently had. But as they grew and advanced, exploration of the Dimension became an ever increasing possibility.

These stories would be passed down among generations, until the time came where opposing powers began to stalemate. Looking back to the stories of their ancestors, they too sought out the Amalga Dimension and the mysteries within.

Now none were deterred by whatever perils awaited in the Dimension. Soon enough, nations and independent factions sent in their own expeditions, marking the beginning of a new age of exploration.

Within the Alzitor Red Dwarf Cluster neighboring the Dimension's border marked by dark matter, the Alzitor Republic readied it's 13th Expeditionary Fleet, with volunteers, explorers, mercenaries and pioneer hopefuls of various nationalities making their way aboard. All were eager and ready, knowing of the risks and willing to take them head on.

It was unfortunate that when they entered, Fate wasn't feeling nice at the time.

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His ears were ringing. His vision was blurred. His balance felt off. His chest was racked with pain. And he couldn't remember what he was doing before.

Anton Volante had a very horrible starting out, to say the least.

As his vision cleared and hearing slowly returned, he saw the remains of the dropship he arrived on, though he did not remember this. Stumbling in and taking a look around with his still recovering vision, he moved over to the wall and grabbed onto a metal cabinet that had toppled onto its side, sitting on it to rest as he checked for injuries to the best of his ability.

Which is rather difficult when you're wearing a full set of damaged body armor that has to be taken off in a specific order. At least having the good graces of fate to remember how to take it off, Anton worked on disconnecting and removing the forearm plates, then the midarm and deltoid plates. Instructions in his head were fuzzy, his movements going off based on subconscious habit until his mind jogged up enough information.

'Finally, I can get this stupid vest off,' Anton thought.

He fumbled with the mechanism for a little while, eventually pulling out a small shard of metal jamming the twist-lock and pulling the knob and turning it to the "Unlock" position. He felt the pressure ease off of what felt to be a broken rib or two as the plating split along the center. It didn't feel as painful as he initially thought; or it could be adrenaline. Anton wasted no time shedding it off and rolling up the shirt portion of his inner protective bodysuit. Despite his still blurred vision, he could make out the dark bruising on his left side and several shallow lacerations towards the sides, possibly caused by skidding across the rocks. He immediately got to work, taking hold of the medkit and opening it up, taking out gauze, scissors, and a couple tubes of healing gel.

Just after he had finished his self-treatment and got his vision to clear up, he heard a low hum. He looked out of one of the dropship's windows, immediately spotting a delta wing aircraft making a vertical landing on the stone-laden ground, kicking up dust as it descended. On one of it's canted winglets was its roundel, three white circles spread equally apart from each other in a triangular formation, encased in two golden crescents, the bottom one smaller than the top, all of which was painted in a blue circle. Two more aircraft of the same design hovered above, circling the area. However, unlike the one that landed, these two aircraft were armed with two chain guns, eight air-to-ground missiles, and two rocket pods, split evenly on each wing. Anton grabbed his armored vest and hastily slipped his arms through, buckling each connector before activating the lock. Taking another look out the window, the soldiers departing were only lightly armed with either pistols or submachine guns.

'What can I use...'

He looked around, only finding small pieces of scrap metal. He moved to the cockpit and found a weapon case to the left. Opening it up, there was a pistol and three magazines of ammo, along with a standard-issue combat knife. He took the pistol, quickly loaded one of the magazines in and leveled the weapon toward the bay door, just in time for one of the soldiers to spot him.

"Woah, easy there!" The soldier said, the voice indicating a male behind the helmet, mask and visor. "Friendlies! We're the rescue team."

Anton was hesitant to trust someone out of the blue, keeping the pistol trained on the soldier as several others made their way over, including one with a blue and yellow brassard that likely indicated the leader.

"Agent Volante?" the leader asked. Anton nodded in response. "Okay, at least you're alive and responsive. I'd like to explain, but we need to leave this area."

Another soldier rushed into sight.

"Sir! Two destroyers descending on our position! 300 klicks and closing!"

The leader looked back and tapped the side of his helmet, looking into the distance before cursing to himself.

"Now or never, Volante."

Anton took the current options into consideration. Put his trust in some strangers who clearly know him, or go against two destroyers with only a pistol.

Yeah... no. Not happening.

'... Ah, screw it; trust the stranger,' Anton thought. 'I'm not suicidal enough to go against a warship.'

He lowered his pistol and followed them out. Within immediate view, one of the shuttles had deployed a decoy drone that headed off to it's left, quickly grabbing the radar lock of an incoming cruise missile. It whizzed by, and detonated in the distance behind him. Anton looked back for a split second to see the fading red glow signaling the aftermath of a proton warhead detonation before running after the squad leader, who boarded the nearest shuttle before turning around and offering his hand to pull Anton up as well.

The three shuttles immediately departed at full afterburner once the ramp was closed. Anton walked over to a small, circular viewport where he saw the wreckages of several starships spread throughout the rocky surface, the flames and smoke still rising towards the sky.

"Damn..." One of the soldiers next to him gazed out through another viewport.

The squad leader came over and briefly looked out towards the scene drifting away below, before looking over to Anton.

"Those Alzitoran ships were supposed to resupply us. Without that, we might have to evacuate by the end of the month."

The squad leader then turned around and headed over to the cockpit, then leaned forward over the Sensor Operator's seat to the right of the Co-pilot. Anton continued to watch from where he stood.

"Any ID on those destroyers, Azari?"

"IFF is showing up as 'Unknown,' sir," Azari responded. "Still working on a hull scan."

An alarm sounded, and Anton instinctively looked out the viewport and searched for the destroyers.

"Missiles incoming, 6 o'clock!"

"Please tell me they aren't what I think they are," the squad leader responded.

"Long-range radar-guided anti-air missiles, sir."

"Dammit, that's what I was thinking. Everyone hold onto something!"

The shuttle suddenly lurched forward and Anton immediately grabbed one of the handles built into the wall. The sound of rocket boosters igniting in full force could be heard through the insulation as everyone inside was rapidly brought into the upper atmosphere.

Yet it wasn't enough. Anton could see the three missiles fast approaching despite the shuttles' increasing speed.

"Can this get any worse?" Anton asked.

"If the missiles have nuclear warheads, yes," Azari responded.

"For Planck's sake..."

The missiles continued to close in. Speaking of which, shouldn't they have run out of fuel?

The squad leader came back over and took off his helmet, revealing black hair and stubble, dark brown eyes and a lightly tanned face.

"Well, if we don't make it out of this, allow me to introduce myself in the 15 seconds we have left. I am Lieutenant Heydar Hashemi of the Zeshan Trade League. We were originally tasked to rendezvous with you and the rest of the Alzitor Expedition Fleet. But you can guess what happened."

"Annihilated?"

"Unfortunately so. Also, it was nice knowing you."

Just as the missiles had approached close enough to be seen by the naked eye, three more missiles suddenly appeared and detonated midair, destroying the pursuing weapons in the blast. Heydar looked over to Anton with a raised eyebrow.

"Were you born lucky?"

Anton was about to answer no when he felt a memory resurface. A memory from his younger days when a girl asked him that same question to which he had answered "yes." He sighed and nodded, before sitting down. Immediately he felt the need to doze off, feeling his adrenaline from the crash run out.

"One of our cruisers intercepted the attack," Azari called out. "Were in the clear."

Anton put on the seatbelt and leaned his head back into the cushion, letting his eyelids close.

'Welcome to the Amalga Dimension,' He thought to himself. 'Hell of a welcoming party.' Then darkness set in.