Inside the operations briefing room of the stealth-class vessel—
Cold blue light suffused the space, and the air carried the metallic tang unique to a nano-filtration system.
More than twenty members of the Imperial Intelligence Special Operations Group sat in fixed metal chairs. Their nano-combat suits, in the dim lighting, presented a flowing matte-black finish, as if able to swallow all surrounding light.
Encrypted data streams danced across each operator's helmet display, task parameters projected directly onto their retinas.
At the front of the room, a holographic projector built a three-dimensional map with millimeter precision.
The blue image of Universe 18's Earth rotated slowly, then zoomed in rapidly on Europe. The full view of the United Earth Directorate (UED) headquarters complex came into clarity.
It was a compound of seven rhombus-shaped towers, the central spire rising 1,200 meters high, its surface clad in smart glass that changed color with the sun's angle.
Three kilometers out from the building, a ring of pulse-field generators stood, with automated sentry turrets every hundred meters.
"Eyes on the northern forest zone," said Leon, standing at the front and speaking into every operative's comms.
His finger tapped the holographic interface, the view tightening on the coniferous forest north of the UED headquarters, covering some thirty square kilometers.
The fibers of his nano-suit glinted faintly over his sharply defined arm muscles as he continued, "This will be our insertion point."
The projection switched to a volumetric scan of the forest.
Within the pines lay numerous pipelines connecting to the headquarters. Some were just wide enough for a fully armed operative to crawl through.
The stealth vessel had detected interior oscillations, revealing patrol gaps — every fifteen minutes, an automated scan passed through.
"We'll enter the atmosphere in single-soldier assault craft," Leon said, bringing up a cutaway diagram of a streamlined flyer. "They're equipped with optical camouflage and sonic-cancellation systems, enough to get us onto Universe 18's surface without a sound."
His nano-gloved hand swept through the air, the holofeed listing their loadout: pulse rifles, neurotoxin rounds, holographic disguise projectors — each weapon modified to leave no traceable energy signature.
From the left, Mike added, "Our civvies use memory-fiber fabric, able to replicate any UED uniform's RF tags. Our contact in Mars's New Chicago has the ID chips ready."
He pulled up several holographic human figures for example. "Memorize your cover roles: Ministry of Energy inspector, atmospheric plant technical advisor, quantum comm network maintenance crew."
As his voice trailed off, the room fell silent.
Chris stepped forward. His nano-suit pauldrons were etched with countless mission emblems.
The commander's presence pressed down like a physical weight, his suit only emphasizing his massive frame.
"Intelligence first. Zero firefights," Chris said, his voice low as thunder. "The UED HQ houses not only officials, generals, and armed security, but also 200,000 civilian employees. One gunshot could trigger a chain reaction."
The holo shifted to the HQ's internal security layout, red points marking thousands of armed guards. "Our target is the data core and the command chain — not a body count."
He magnified the 78th floor of the main spire. Six blue markers lit key points: "Quantum comm node, main server room, three biometric ID databases. Worth more than killing a hundred generals."
His gaze swept each visor. "If you must act…"
He drew a thumb across his throat. "Make it silent — and make the body vanish in ninety seconds."
The projection flickered, updating with live weather data — a blizzard sweeping toward the target zone, snowflake icons blinking white on the display.
"Fortune smiles," Leon said. "Snow will cover signals and tracks."
Digits appeared over his glove: "Insertion window in four hours. Visibility will drop below fifteen meters."
Mike then brought up the final file — daily movement logs of UED top brass.
A dozen holographic portraits floated in the air, each tagged with second-by-second movement patterns.
"The President's chief of security goes to the underground garage alone at 18:00 every day. Best chance to get a biometric key."
Chris shut down the projection, normal lighting returning. "Remember — we're not here to start a war."
His eyes were like a hawk's. "The Emperor wants an intact solar system, not a smoking ruin."
The operatives nodded silently.
They checked their gear — neurotoxin ammo loaded, subdermal trackers active, retinal displays showing their routes.
"May the Emperor guide us," Chris said, closing his visor as encrypted data flashed across it.
With that, all suits activated, liquid-mercury ripples spreading over their surfaces before freezing into the exact appearance of UED Security uniforms.
The operations room hatch slid open, and they moved to the orbital drop bay below, where dagger-shaped black assault craft awaited.
Their hulls were clad in scale-pattern stealth coating, their thrusters treated to stay cold enough to fool even the most sensitive scanners.
The blizzard was coming — and this infiltration would be quieter than a snowflake touching ground.
Three hours later, the Eye of Shadow's hull shimmered like something alive, gliding out of the Moon's shadow like a deep-sea predator into the dark, following a carefully calculated gravity slingshot toward Earth.
"Orbital parameters locked," the bridge AI said in Chris's ear. "Insertion window in 17 minutes, 32 seconds."
Chris stood at the viewport, through treated transparent armor, watching the blue planet slowly rotate below.
Europe's shape sharpened. Above the target zone, the blizzard's white vortex was coiling tighter.
Behind him, the twenty-plus operatives had completed their final checks. Their suits now perfectly mimicked UED Security gear, right down to the chest RF tags flashing valid codes.
"Assault craft warmed up," Leon reported over comms. "Specialized jamming in place."
Chris glanced at the quantum clock on the wall, digits ticking with perfect precision.
At zero, the Eye of Shadow's belly hatch opened. Chris, Leon, Mike, and the rest boarded their craft.
One by one, the black assault boats shot out like arrows from a bow. Before clearing the stealth vessel, they were already cloaked in full-spectrum optical camouflage, vanishing from radar and sight alike.
—
Inside Assault Boat Six—
Mike's fingers danced over the virtual controls, the craft's sensors projecting the outside world in augmented reality over the bulkheads.
To him, it felt like free-falling into the atmosphere.
They entered low orbit at a steady glide. Below, UED patrol craft slid past — one frigate passed within three hundred meters, its bow scanning arrays oblivious to the intruders.
"Look," Leon marked a spot to port.
A two-kilometer colony transport was slowly turning beneath them, hull painted with New Home Project – Batch Seven.
Through its windows, rows of cryo-pods were visible, each holding a colonist bound for the stars.
The assault boat shivered slightly — its nano-coating warming from atmospheric friction.
Mike engaged the cancellation systems, dampening the roar of re-entry. Outside, an orange-red plasma sheath formed, unnaturally dim from their special treatment.
"Entering blackout zone," an operator reported calmly. "Breaking through in forty-three seconds."
Mike switched his visor to a penetrating mode — through the plasma turbulence, building outlines emerged.
The supercity housing UED HQ lay below like a circuit board set into the earth, kilometer-high towers forming precise geometric patterns, maglev tracks weaving glowing threads between them.
On the northern outskirts, the rhombus cluster wrapped in forest was their target.
"Capital region density: 98,000 per square kilometer," Mike read from the tactical data. "Seventeen viable safehouse sites in the east sector."
Chris cut in: "Remember, we have ninety-six hours. Once intel is secured, we trigger emergency exfil."
Before long, visibility in the storm dropped under fifteen meters.
The assault craft landed vertically on target coordinates. Silenced landing gear ensured no UED alarms would trigger.
When the hatch opened, the blizzard's icy wind and snow poured in — but the suits' adaptive temperature fields neutralized it instantly.
"Rally point confirmed."
A green beacon blinked in Chris's retinal display.
He gestured tactically. The operators fanned out in a defensive perimeter, pulse rifles ready.
Their suits' disguises shifted, blending from UED uniforms into pure environmental mimicry, vanishing into the whiteout.
Chris knelt by the craft, pressing a palm to the snow-covered ground.
His glove released dozens of micro-drones, each the size of a grain of rice, burrowing into the snow to map a 500-meter radius in holographic detail.
"Pipe entrance at eleven o'clock, three hundred sixty-seven meters," he sent over encrypted comms. "Guard patrol every fourteen minutes, thirty seconds — next pass is… now."
The team froze, active camouflage rendering them invisible.
Dozens of meters away, four UED Security troops skimmed by on snow-sleds, helmet lamps cutting cones through the storm.
One slowed, sled angling slightly—
Creak—
An old pine, burdened with snow, dropped a load of branches. The sound was nearly lost in the wind.
The guard moved on.
Once they were gone, Leon eased his finger off his rifle's trigger.
"Four stay with the gear," Chris ordered. "Rest follow Plan One."
The four selected broke off, camouflaging the landing site with a stealth field and automated defenses, their suits shifting to snow pattern and disappearing entirely.
The rest followed Chris, Leon, and Mike to the pipe.
The 1.2-meter-wide metal conduit lay half-buried in snow, thick with ice.
Leon produced a molecular cutter, silently slicing a gap. Thermal scans showed an internal 12°C — with heat traces from small maintenance drones.
"Remember," Chris told them as they filed in one by one, "we're not here to change history. We're here to record it."
The last operative vanished into the dark. Leon ran a finger along the cut edge.
Nano-repair mist seeped from his wrist unit, flowing like a living thing over the break. The smart material, laced with memory-alloy micro-particles, reformed instantly at a molecular level, sealing the cut in thirty seconds flat.
Outside, the storm had turned into a true white devil.
Snow drove almost sideways, pines groaning under the weight.
At –35°C, even UED patrols were shortening their shifts. New snow buried landing gear marks, tracks, and heat traces in under two minutes.
The forest returned to untouched purity — except for the micro-drones Chris had hidden in the drifts, quietly feeding live data to the Eye of Shadow in low orbit.
Inside the pipe, the world was different.
Suits shifted to dark gray, merging with the metal. The team moved in standard infiltration formation — a scout ten meters ahead, two behind for cover, Leon, Mike, and the main group in the center, Chris bringing up the rear.
Suit grip systems let them walk walls at an angle.
Their sound-dampening made them quieter than falling snow, and the built-in quantum comms kept them connected even in heavy EM shielding.
Three hundred meters ahead, the first security checkpoint's infrared scan beams glowed faintly. But the operatives knew — UED security was never built to stop Imperial Special Operations.
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