Above Eden: Of Science, Magic, and Gods

We’re the mighty watchful eye,

Guardians Beyond the Blue,

The invisible front line,

Peacekeepers brave and true.

Boldly reaching into space,

There is no limit to our sky!

Standing guard both night and day,

We’re the Space Force from on high.

Captain Moore tapped the exterior of his coffee mug to an erratic beat, his free hand rubbing his dull eyes while he yawned. The clock on one of the meeting room’s walls displayed the time adjusted to Earth’s GMT: 8 AM. Members of the Third Unified Division remained in London for two weeks before departing for open space, enduring a series of physical and mental tests while adjusting their internal clocks before the arduous journey. The short vacation in London certainly helped to an extent, but the captain glimpsed at the other captains in the room and noted that they all looked sluggish to some degree.

The meeting room was secluded in the rear of the giant carrier UNS Nimitiz; a round table with the UN logo stamped in the middle took up the majority of the space. More than a hundred chairs surrounded it, though even with all officers with the rank of captain or above present, some seats remained empty. Despite being a “unified” division, most officers sat with their local or regional counterparts. The only officers from different regions that sat together were the colonels and the major general who sat at the head of the table. 

Moore noticed that Assistant Director Fletes was absent, but a female secretary sat with the higher-ranking officers in his place.

“It’s your turn to take the notes, Jon,” Captain Tony Rodriguez whispered right before the personal screens in front of them booted up. The tanned man twirled the screen’s stylus between his long and fat fingers, dropping it twice before he stopped. 

“Nah, you’re doing it again, remember? You doodled some weird alien and human graffiti last time. We got dressed down by Colonel Johnson for that shit.” Captain Moore answered.

“I think he was just impressed by my graffiti; he didn’t even punish us for that.” 

“Just shut the fuck up and write.” 

“Alright,” Rodriguez turned to the third American officer, Captain Ezekiel Davis, and grinned at him. “You do it.”

The short African American officer scowled. “I did it five times in a row before last time.” 

Rodriguez leaned back into his black leather chair and hummed, his tall frame spilling over the top of the seat. “Don’t care. If you don’t want to get yelled at, you do it.” 

Before Moore could interject, Davis muttered something about “son of a jonesa” with his notable Nova-American accent and nodded with a disgruntled look. Despite knowing Davis for a few months, Moore was still jarred by his accent: an unholy mix of Texan, Jersey, and Cherokee. 

Thankfully, Major General Gaétan Bassot, an aging Frenchman with a greying mustache, tapped a small gavel to gather the room’s attention and cleared his throat before any further bickering could break out between the two American officers. “I know it’s a bit early on in the day, but we have an urgent situation that requires all of your immediate attention before we land on Roana in three days.” 

That statement grabbed even Rodriguez’s attention, forcing him to sit up in his chair.

The lights of the room dimmed as the screens blared an image from Roana. It was a picture of a sizeable island with a thick jungle and beautiful beaches. Moore stared at the picture, reminiscing his first and only vacation to Hawaii as Major General Bassot spoke in his native French. “As you all may remember, this was the island where we had originally planned to set up base, a thousand miles away from any local civilizations, yet at the halfway point between two of the largest continents. It was one of the largest uninhabited islands we could find.” 

“Was it recently inhabited by some merchants or pirates, perhaps?” A female officer from the Chinese section inquired in Mandarin through the mic attached to the armrest of their seat. 

Moore tapped the MicroTranslate in his ears to turn down the volume before the general replied to the question. “No. If that was the case, we could’ve resolved it easily.”

The screen changed to a vast and empty sea, not too dissimilar to the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. Moore glanced at the image and frowned, unsure of the implications of the image. 

“The island disappeared.” General Bassot said. “Just six hours ago, one of the satellites above Roana noted an anomaly near the island. When it took a new picture of where the island should’ve been, it sent this to us.” 

“Could it be possible that the Roanans have some form of detection array or deep space observations? They have ‘magic,’ correct?” A male Russian officer asked, speaking in near-perfect, if slightly accented, English. “Perhaps they knew we were heading to the island and used their ‘magic’ to conceal the location? Some form of silent warning against our approach?”

General Bassot shook his head. “No. There have been no reports of such detection capabilities by the natives from the fifty synths we have on the ground. And even if they could spot us, it would’ve been impossible for them to know our destination on the planet itself.” 

One of the colonels next to the general continued the presentation. Moore recognized her as Colonel Naisha Chatterjee of the 15th Brigade. “Due to this sudden change, the general has authorized Plan Deuxième instead of hoping for a reversal of the island’s disappearance. As the planet has unknown variables, such as magic and rumors of living gods, this event was a surprise, but not an unexpected one.”

“As our new landing zone will be on the continent of Resforna, the ship will remain in orbit to avoid frightening any local inhabitants, and shuttles will be used to ferry people, equipment, and supplies down to our base of operations,” Colonel Chatterjee continued. The screen lit up to reveal a wild piece of forested land that faced the Jouse Ocean, the large ocean that separated Resforna from the largest continent on the planet. “Since the terrain here is noted by the locals to be atrocious and filled with hostile wildlife, much of the first week on the ground will involve pest control and establishing defensive perimeters. Civilians will be shuttled down after the landing zone is cleared for safety.” 

A British officer, sitting next to his European counterparts, spoke up with a thick Yorkshire accent. “What sort of hostile wildlife are we talking about?”

“Large, aggressive animals and a ‘few monsters’ from one of our scout’s initial explorations. We will know more soon in the next day or so.” General Bassot answered. 

When monsters were mentioned, a flurry of conversations emerged between the officers at the table. From the hushed whispers, Captain Moore picked out mentions of the Bible, Lord of the Rings, and hunting seasons. 

“Isn’t this technically within the borders of one of the local nations?” Davis asked.

“The Duchy of Lisentia has de jure control over the ‘Forest of Anseuan.’ However, we have confirmation that they lack a firm presence in and around the forest; the area has been out of the duchy’s direct rule for over a century. The nearest sign of civilization is thirty miles away: a military town to defend the northern borders of the duchy. If needed, we have received authorization from the UN Security Council to enter negotiations to ‘purchase’ the territory for a fair and reasonable sum.” 

“Fair and reasonable, my ass… I bet the Euro chuds are looking to swindle the natives like they did in the Americas,” Rodriguez muttered. “The damn Ruskies too.” 

Moore elbowed him and glared before turning his attention back to the general. 

General Bassot looked around the room and stared at every officer he could. "Remember, our mission is a diplomatic and scientific one. The core objective of this mission is to make peaceful contact, learn more about magic, and assist those facing oppression on a limited scale. We are to tread carefully around the natives on the planet. The UN Security Council does not want to repeat what happened on Nova...

"The situation may be different since Nova was populated entirely by people from Earth. Yet, the essence of the mission remains the same. Lethal force is not authorized unless in extraordinary circumstances. You know how that goes.

"You will receive further briefings about the situation as we receive more information. For now, ensure your units are ready for immediate engagement the moment we're planetside. We have received authorization to use armor and air assets within the confines of the forest to minimize any unexpected friendly casualties."

From the corner of his eyes, Moore saw Rodriguez's eyes light up and rise from his chair, pumping his fists, prompting him to let out an inaudible groan.

"That is all for now," General Bassot announced. "Assemble your respective units and have a pre-combat inspection today. Following that, we'll have a division-wide uniform inspection within the next two days. I expect all issues to be dealt with before we touchdown on Roana. We will have another meeting tomorrow at 0800. Dismissed."

The three captains, along with a dozen other American captains, exited the meeting room with a noticeable beat to their steps. Before Moore could walk away, Rodriguez clapped him on his back. “Think Lieutenant Colonel Lee would mind if I went a bit ham on the course with the Raineys today?”

“Yes?” Moore said with a sigh. “You nearly blew a hole in the walls last time; I think the last thing she wants is our battalion having to pay for the damages to the course. I saw her smoking an entire pack the last time she had to clean up your mess.” 

“Tell her it’s for ‘readiness’ prep. This is the most exciting shit since running over those blowhards in Nova.” 

“And I’m sure monsters will be in awe of your company’s firepower and those giant slags of a machine called the Raineys.” 

“Can’t be a worse audience than terrorists,” Rodriguez answered with a shrug. 

Rogers interjected into the conversation by clearing his throat. “I’ve sent my notes to your emails. Both of you owe me a bottle.” 

Moore glanced at the hesitant look on Rogers’ face and subtly nudged Rodriguez with his elbow. He noted the Nova-American flag on the African American officer’s sleeve: the fifty-five stars and thirteen stripes, along with the words“NOVA-USA” stamped on top. In contrast, both Moore and Rodriguez wore the stars and stripes with the word “USA” stamped above the flag. 

The nudge earned an annoyed look from Rodriguez, but the officer noticed Moore’s harsh gaze and quickly backed down. “Sure, sure. Come down to the barracks in a few hours.” 

An awkward moment passed before Rogers walked away wordlessly, his pace more brisk than before. 

“Did you forget where Rogers was from, you dumb oaf?” Moore chided. 

“Shit, not my fault he looks the same as any black dudes from Earth-side. The only thing that’s weird about him is his accent and slang. When he’s all quiet like that, I forget.” 

“Make sure not to remind him of the Nova Revolt. Heard he lost family when Roosevelt was wiped from the map.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rodriguez dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I’ll see you during chow time.”

Captain Moore strolled away after watching his counterpart saunter away with a skip to his steps. Within a few minutes, he was back in his office, pressing a few buttons on his iPad to alert the members of his company. “Fucking troops, always wanting to be the first to roll into battle. How are the tankers saner than them these days?”

“Since the UN Space Force Regulation 193-B2 was passed twenty years ago, in 2129, any and all armored fighting vehicles were prohibited from being deployed on Nova. The only exception being four years ago when infantry fighting vehicles were utilized in the early days of the Revolt against insurgents…”

“I know, Iris. I was literally there, remember?”

The brunette AI, with her detailed features and lithe figure, popped onto his desk and frowned. “I assumed that you were unaware of the specific regulation since you tasked me with processing and reminding you of the manual.”

“Because it’s two thousand pages long. Even I agree with Tony in that the UN needs to ‘shove it up their ass’ and make a more simplified manual.”

“That is the simplified version, sir.” 

“I earned a degree in business, not whatever degree requires me to read a thousand pages of boring text.” 

“That would be a juris doctor.” 

“Always knew lawyers were a soulless bunch,” Moore grumbled. “Shoot a direct alert to First Sergeant Wilard and First Lieutenant Doe. Pre-combat inspection in fifteen minutes in Hanger Six.”

“Of course,” Iris replied. Her eyes gleamed momentarily before she yawned and sat on the desk. “It’s done. I made sure to have the alerts blaring at max volume. If they were sleeping before, they’ll be bouncing off the walls now.”

“And…”

“The updated mission brief has been sent as well.”

“What changed?”

“We are to take point with the Marine Recon unit and make contact with local synth agents. Afterward, we will establish a perimeter for the other units to land.” 

“Fuck!” Captain Moore swore. “Blake?’

“Yes, Captain Blake. You’ve been ordered to meet with him tomorrow afternoon to discuss any last-minute adjustments,” His AI assistant affirmed with a scowl. She spat out the rank of the Marine officer with an emphasized disgust in her voice. “Why they would allow someone with two Article Fifteens to partake in this whole journey…”

“Every one of those crayon munchers has an A-15. Unfortunately, the best ones have two. We’ll deal with that headache tomorrow, or never, if possible. For now, the company.” 

“Of course, sir.”

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AN: Still working out a few kinks in my writing and the such. I'll explore the world more in detail as time goes on and hopefully stabilize around a cast of characters (with our MC at the center, of course). 

Most of the POVs will be from Captain Moore. However, I will shift POVs as the plot demands it (it's not a First Contact story without... POVs from people encountering advanced civilization). 

As always, any criticism or comments are appreciated. Thank you :)