U.S. Army Rangers are elite, highly trained light infantry soldiers within the 75th Ranger Regiment, specializing in direct-action raids, forcible entry, and special reconnaissance missions. As premier special operations forces, they are rapidly deployable, conducting high-risk tasks like airfield seizure, hostage rescue, and fighting in complex urban environments. In the near-future of the 2100’s, they largely remain the same, just expanding their efforts to the known galaxy instead of just Earth, much like the USCM.
Prologue/CH.1 - A Rude Awakening.
DISTRESS REPORT – ACTIVE BOARDING EVENT
To: UAAC (diverted to 8th Ranger Company, Second Batt – ‘Star Reapers’)
From: Helix Dynamics Executive Operations, Prospero Station.
UAAC Command,
This is Director Alana Myles of Helix Dynamics, transmitting under active emergency conditions.
At 18:42 LPT(Local Prospero Time), multiple unauthorized launch craft ascended from the planetary surface below Franklin’s Reach IV. These vessels did not match any registered colonial traffic. They ignored hails and began coordinated approach vectors toward Prospero Station. Lacking weapons, they seemed to just speed for the landing bays and docking rings.
Our perimeter defenses were disabled before engagement, precision strikes, likely premeditated. Docking Ring Two has been forcibly breached. We are currently repelling boarders in Cargo Spine B and the refinery access corridors.
Station security reports the attackers are lightly armed but highly organized. Communications intercepts from open channels indicate ideological messaging, though signal clarity is poor. We are treating them as insurgents originating from the surface settlements.
Complicating matters, we have confirmed internal sabotage:
Atmospheric regulators in Section E manually overridden.
Two reactor coolant pumps disabled from inside Engineering.
Comms array interference traced to an internal access node.
Three security personnel unaccounted for prior to breach.
It is unclear whether we are facing infiltrators embedded before the assault or compromised staff acting in coordination with surface aggressors.
We are maintaining control of the central command deck and upper habitation ring. Casualties are mounting. Civilian workforce currently at 312 personnel. Evacuation shuttles and EEV’s are grounded due to debris and hostile fire in the immediate orbital lane.
Request immediate deployment of your forces for:
Internal counter-boarding operations.
Saboteur identification and neutralization.
Restoration of engineering integrity.
Secure extraction of executive and research personnel.
Prospero is a critical materials processing hub for the American Arm corridor. If the station falls, regional supply chains will be severely disrupted..
Boarders have reached Power Junctions Three-Six! Power failing!
[WEAPONS FIRE – DISTANT SHOUTING - SCREAMING THAT GOES SILENT AS A WELDER FLICKS ON]
Security teams are falling back toward the Habitat Ring Delta. We are sealing bulkheads in sequence.
We cannot guarantee containment for more than—
[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED – SIGNAL DISTORTION]
…they’re in the ventilation shafts…
—Myles out—
END OF TRANSMISSION
Automated Beacon: Distress signal remains active. This message will repeat every fifteen minutes.
The 8th Rangers received the diverted message from the UAAC an hour after it was sent. They were less than two parsecs out, already burning toward Prospero Station’s general direction aboard the USASF Bougainville-class attack transport, the USS Midway, cruising in FTL.
The alert was a rude awakening, but they were used to those. For months they had been patrolling the American Arm of Space along the UPP border. New Chicago, Lucien, Henri Gaston Colony, etc, hoping for a straight fight with communist invaders. Instead, they found distress calls, pirate raids, and colonies torn apart by alien predators, one of which had killed Specialist Johnson just last week. God rest his soul.
2nd Lieutenant Robert J. Griggs woke with a frown, as if he’d gone into cryo wearing it. His dark skin was webbed with old scars, his jaw lined with disciplined stubble and a carefully trimmed mustache he claimed was “within regs” and “for morale purposes.”
The sudden revival left no time for proper thaw protocols. No gradual warm-up. No Hydr8tion waiting on the rack. Just klaxons.. Red lights strobed across the bay.
Griggs forced his pod open, leaned over, and emptied his stomach into a waste bin. His prosthetic leg always lagged behind the rest of him in the thaw. He rolled his shoulder, then his leg, stretching the carbon-synth joint until the servos responded, then stepped out onto unsteady boots.
Around him, the Rangers dragged themselves upright. Some stretched. A few sparked contraband smokes. Others cracked open stashed Hydr8tion packets like men and women who planned ahead. PFC Billy and PFC ‘Batts’, twins, inseparable, dapped each other up and muttered, “Another beautiful day in the Army.” loud enough for the whole bay to hear, they got some chuckles in return.
Griggs cleared his throat. The noise died down. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried deep and steady.
“Form up! Now.”
The men moved into a line.
A USASF comms specialist jogged up and handed Griggs a data-slate. He scanned it once and gave a curt nod.
“Listen up. We’re fast-burning toward Prospero Station. It’s under attack by unknown hostiles planetside. A corporate outfit called Helix Dynamics requested assistance. Apparently they’re ‘‘important’.
He made air quotes without looking up, then continued.
“Priority one is the Director and their team, one Alana Myles, after that, the Station itself. Alpha and myself will move to the Command module while Bravo heads for the Reactor. Stay frosty when we move, we’ve been warned of possible infiltrators so friendlies may not be so friendly after all.”
A large figure raised a hand.
One of Griggs’ men, Alpha Squad, a Smartgunner named Eddie “Bull” Duval. Built like a dropship engine and just as subtle.
“Sir, respectfully — didn’t we rate for R&R once we hit the Core? My girl on Arcturus was counting on it.”
The bay snickered.
Griggs didn’t miss a beat.
“Bull, your girl’s already gone. Jody got her. I don’t know an alien version of Jody yet, so we’re sticking with the classic. Form up.”
Laughter broke the tension like a pressure valve.
Griggs stepped forward, patting Bull on the shoulder jokingly with a grin.
“Alpha Squad’s with me. Bravo’s under Lieutenant Jackson. We recon the station first. No heavy weapons. I don’t want someone punching a quarter-sized hole in the hull and venting us into the vacuum.”
He pointed at Bull.
“That includes you.”
More laughter, a demo specialist named Patricia ‘Pat’ Monroe punched ‘Bull’ in the arm as she laughed at him. The twins shuffled past, one of them slapped ‘Bull’ on the neck with a chuckle.
“Chow now. You got two hours. Full gear by 2300. Drop-bay at 2330. Launch at 2400. Let’s move.”
The Rangers dispersed toward the mess hall, joking with each other as they prepared for their meal.
A Food Specialist came over the intercom announcing todays choosing’s.
“Tonight’s menu, Soldiers! Pasta, burgers, and pizza. American classics!” They said, clearly excited.
The kind of meal that reminded the soldiers of home back in the Core Systems, of Earth. Some men thought of their friends and family, others their girlfriends, like Bull. Griggs thought of his late wife, killed during an action in Australia. He regrets that they didn’t have time to have kids, but he knows that is also likely a pipedream as well, given they were both career military.
After that, the armory and the quartermaster. All that was left after that, whatever hell was waiting on Prospero Station.