[Author's Note: This lil thing is a crackhead idea of mine inspired heavily by Warhammer 40k by Games Workshop, Red vs. Blue by Rooster Teeth Animation, and Halo by Bungie and 343 Industries. I highly recommend you check all of those pieces of media out. TW: Lots of cursing, Shitty sci-fi writing]
Sergeant Major Hector Caspian was going to strangle that damn kid if he complained one more time. Not that it would do anything, but if Epsilon did not stop fussing and groaning about-
“Ughhhhh, I hate this fucking shippppppp.”
Caspian sighed. When Terran High Command had issued his squad a Chimaera, he was expecting a hardened soldier, a veteran, maybe Alpha, Pi, or even Tau. One of the legends that had earned prowess and regard across several systems. A monster that put fear into even Kaiju-class lifeforms. What he was not expecting was a short, skinny, spacesick brat who constantly complained about, the admittedly deplorable state of the Aurora. It creaked and roared and rattled, and, all in all, made wormhole travel even more of a hell than it already was, but that didn’t mean Epsilon had to crib about it every two minutes. The cloaking and shields worked just. fine, didn’t they? Caspian made a mental note to send a strongly-worded holo about Epsilon’s behavior towards the Committee Esoterica. When a child acts badly, you have to tell their parents, after all.
~~
“Cass! Cass! Hey, Cass!”
“Oh my god, WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” Caspian was now even more exasperated with Epsilon, as he stormed out of the bridge to confront him. Epsilon had made the guest quarters of the Aurora into a veritable pigsty. Fabricator scrap and spare parts laid around everywhere, combined with the potent smell of Epsilon’s dirty laundry, which had just sort of piled up in a corner, amplifying the stench of a male teenager into something so rank Cass felt like retrieving his gas mask. As for Epsilon himself, he was lounging on the cot, adorned in Experimental Mark XXIV Plague Class Nanomachine Body Armor, a suit of armor that filled out Epsilon’s slender frame, similar to the exoskeletal armor portrayed in Old Terran digital games, yet a much more sleek design, that conformed to the skin in some places, and protruded in protective armor at other points. It hummed and purred, an alive, reactive thing, a technological ecosystem dedicated to Epsilon’s protection. It covered his entire body up to his neck, where it stopped in a mask that looked similar to a cybernetic respirator that covered the lower half of Epsilon’s face.
“We’re gonna be landing soon, right?”
Caspian sighed heavily, theorizing how he could get away with child murder. Epsilon was sixteen, after all. Maybe they’d go easy on him, especially if any of the jury had ever actually met Epsilon. “Yes, Epsilon. We will be approaching the drop zone soon, at which, we will jump out of the Aurora and use propulsors to land. my squad will then accompany you as you carry out your Seek and Destroy.”
“Cool. Cool. Cool. Yeahhhhhh, I’m gonna need your kit.” Epsilon asked. His eyes, while unnatural, and heterochromatic, did give the impression of sheepishness. Well, as close to sheepishness as Epsilon could get. But he was really trying to play nice. He had clearly even attempted to smooth down his gigantic mess of hair and did not insult Caspian even once.
“What the- no! Use your own kit!” Caspian quickly fired back, horrified. A soldier’s ‘kit’ was their lifeline, their most valuable possession. It contained all their ranged weaponry, and each individual had their own specialized kit with their own specialized guns.
“I can’t! My kit’s back on Terra, remember? Upgrades and all that? I’ve only got my Nyxblade and armor with me.” Epsilon was going to have to try harder. As far as Caspian was concerned, ‘only got my Nyxblade with me’ might as well have been saying that ‘I’ve only got a miniaturized disintegrator with me.’
“No. This is a Jaeger Kit. You don’t even have the training to use this stuff.”
“Dude. They’re guns. It’s not that hard. Safety off, point, shoot, reload. That’s it.”
“No. If your kit is being upgraded, you bring your spare. That’s common sense, Epsilon.”
Epsilon put his hands up in surrender, acknowledging Caspian’s show of superiority. His mismatched red and blue eyes did roll in annoyance though. For a living weapon grown in a test tube, Epsilon could be surprisingly, humanly, petty at times. The boy made a show of walking over to his mirror, taking in his face. Huh. His brown skin had paled and cracked during the constant space travel. He would have to make a note to get his hands on Theta’s lotion. As for Caspian, the poor man was red as a Groshian tomato during the third spring. He supposed he’d grant the Sergeant Major a little respite.
“Okay. I’ll just use the Standard-Issue.” Epsilon conceded. The Standard-Issue Kit was the kit assigned to a private upon joining humanity’s armies. These kits were also kept upon every single one of the military’s ships, even the Aurora, which was currently piloted by the Special Forces. It was rather shitty, but, alas, better then nothing. However, it was Caspian’s turn to appear sheepish….
“Yeah, about that…. The ship…. doesn’t have a Standard-Issue.”
Epsilon immediately began to boil over. The Aurora did not seem to have a lot of things. Secured seatbelts, functioning weaponry, an onboard computer that was not a total idiot, a working water heater, a proper fucking food rehydrator, all of which being technology perfected centuries ago but no. Why would a ship being piloted by some of the most elite soldiers in the entirety of the Terran military, and the United Coven of Mankind by extension, have primitive fucking technology?
Deep breaths, Epsilon. Sergeant Major Caspian is not your enemy. Epsilon’s AI whispered to him inside of his earpiece. Epsilon knew Computer was right. He needed to calm down. Well, maybe calm down a little. He definitely still had the right to be absolutely livid. He took a deep breath before speaking, slowly sounding out the words he wanted to communicate.
“You’re telling me….. You do not have a singular Standard-Issue on board?”
“Command sort of…..forgot to give us one.”
“Oh my god, who is running this army?!” Epsilon put his hands up to his face, barely restrianing himself from pulling out his almost shoulder-length hair, the black of his armor blending in with said hair.
“….Assholes?”
“Rhetorical question, Cass! But seriously, what the fuck?! I’m chilling, just practicing for my next operation on Terra, then I get dragged from my quarters in the middle of the night and put on this piece of shit you call a ship with no prior warning whatsoever, without my fucking kit, the one that I need to shoot stuff, too! And, to top the current shitfuckery off with a little bit of ‘fuck you’ cherry, there is not even a single fucking pistol on this garbage heap of a ship, is that about everything or did I forget something?!“
“….No, that’s…. pretty much everything. Yeah, no, Command can be jackasses. A lot. Like when they assigned you to my unit.”
“Did you just…. insult me?”
“Yyyyyep. Come on, Epsilon. Quit crying like a little bitch, we gotta talk strategy. And after that, I promise to get you a box lunch and the opportunity to punch every single Overseer at Command in the fucking face.”