Atlas Abandoned

Focus (3.5 years since the crash)

"We've got green lights!" yelled an over-caffeinated scout who had his face shoved inside an oversized periscope. He was watching the warp gate in space which was the most underwhelming job anyone could imagine except for once every three months. This must have been the only time in history when having green lights discouraged everyone who heard about them, but it didn't take anyone by surprise.

"Alright boys and girls, the third wave's right on time! Let's keeping pushing it hard down here and clean up what's left! How're we doing, Sergeant?" he turned to a disheveled Sergeant that was running towards him down the massive hall.

"We're holding' em off, sir!" the Sergeant yelled across the room over the commotion. He jogged over to the Captain to speak more quietly, "but it's like they're matching us blow for blow. When everyone fights we push some, but when we give our squads breaks, and when we wait for AGS resupply...we lose whatever ground we gained. I've got Mammoths falling asleep at their terminals, sir." The Captain stretched his jaw for a moment, twisting his scowl, before looking the Sergeant in the eyes.

"You are aware we removed the limitations on stimulant disbursement down here, yes?"

"Y-yes, but-"

"Yes, what?"

"...Yes, sir."

"Then I suggest you give everyone a little bit more, Sergeant! The Mammoths do not have a nap-time training program that I am aware of!"

"Yes sir!" The Sergeant swallowed his pride, accepted his orders, and ran back down the long open corridor towards his drop ship. A couple other Sergeants who had approached the Captain, waiting to complain about the same thing, looked at each other before turning around as well.

The veritable Mammoth War Fortresses were composed of two types of vessels that deployed on the Earth's surface: large hub ships that served as giant hallways- these were stocked with supplies and the technology necessary for Captains to command effectively- and dozens of drop ships that autonomously locked into place on the sides of the hubs. Each drop ship was rigged as a VR terminal for 100 soldiers to link up with AGS-2 androids and hit the battlefield without the risk of harm. Squad leaders, though, had access to performance-enhancing, powered armor that protected them from the elements and allowed them to bring tactical leadership of their squads to the frontlines. The suits were expensive, though, so not every squad leader was able to take one out. Pallas was one such squad leader.

The drop ship Pallas and his squad arrived on was also, coincidentally, docked closest to where the Captain's open headquarters for strategizing were- desks, display screens, terminals, and all.

"Did you hear that, Sarge?" Pallas tugged on the sleeve of his drop ship's much older Sergeant's uniform.

"What are you talking about? Get back to your squad," he tried to shoo Pallas away to the far end of the drop ship where his soldiers were all currently controlling AGS-2 droids. Pallas had wandered up near the hub to eavesdrop for anything exciting.

"That guy said his troops are falling asleep at the wheel out there! Let 894 to the frontlines! C'mon!" Pallas begged.

"You kids shouldn't even be down here! You're lucky they didn't give you mops and tell you to clean piss. You're on patrol. It's boring. Be grateful."

"Ugh, Sarge! You guys care about statistics, right? If you look us up we're in the top 10% for time on the simulators!"

The Sergeant smirked, ready to further alienate Pallas by reminding him that his squad was also the youngest one- not only on his drop ship, but likely in the whole damned fortress. He was denied his quip when the Captain walked up from behind and slapped a hand on his shoulder.