Rise of Atlantis

Chapter One

The station was quiet and it was eerie. Uncomfortably so. Given that this station had four miles worth of sprawling corridors, expansive and open bays, docking areas, briefing and debriefing rooms plus additional areas for barracks, outside courtyards and the like. It was always loud, always bustling and always commanding attention. The entire station took up over five square miles; with training grounds, landing areas, storage units and open fields included. This didn't include the nearly ten miles worth of tunnels that were spread out underneath the compound and ventured deep into the landscape they were hidden within. Anyone could easily get lost here and no one was easily alone. The compound had thousands of soldiers stationed within it, expanding anywhere from pilots to infantrymen to communications support. It was the central hub of the Unitary Planet Association's-UPA-military support and granted, made it very busy.

Expect right now, at a half past two in the morning common association time; the entire base felt deserted. There were few-a skeleton crew-of soldiers that guarded the premise and the expanse amount of equipment that flowed in and out. That left, maybe a little over a hundred soldiers awake at this ungodly hour. Captain Whitney Ashen did not feel for them. How could she? As a private, she had spent many nights just like this one, guarding a door that saw no one enter or exit. And now she was just passing through. A special forces agent just looking forward to a hot meal and her bunk.

The sound of her footfall echoed loudly through the metallic chambers, making her flinch slightly. The quiet had always been unnerving to her, especially so at night. Despite extensive night time training and sensory deprivation, Whitney never quite got over her unease with the darkness and the quiet. And right now, her footfall was faster, not quite desperate enough to make it noticeable to an outside listener, but just so. She knew she still had a good amount of walking to do before she made it to one of the expansive mess halls-several were scattered throughout-but this one was the closest to her quarters and had the best shitty food there was.

Whitney continued at her pace as she turned a corner, finding herself stumbling upon a distracted private. One who found sleep more valuable than what was behind the door he was supposed to guarding. Her footfall fell silent as she moved along the inside wall, keeping him well within her eye line as she tried to stay out of his. She'd only been a private for six months when she'd been recruited into the officers' academy, something that was very rare for someone so young and she'd taken it with grace. But during that time as a private, she'd learned valuable things. Including how to not fuck up in front of higher ranks because that meant embarrassment and Whitney would not settle for embarrassment. She also learned how to embarrass because how were privates supposed to learn if their morale wasn't crushed a little bit.

She waited until she was right in front of him, his toes against hers. In the quiet that was once overwhelming, she could hear the small snores of the soldier. She understood his challenge, many times did she draw that short straw, but she also understood war and his incompetence could kill them all one day. Slowly and methodically she pulled the small laser rifle from his grip and leveled it with his drooped head.

On every low-ranking soldier, there is a name and a rank stitched just above their right breast pocket. Whitney was glad the moment she graduated from the second academy, away went that annoying tag. Instead a rank was worn on the right shoulder of every uniform and the right side of any flight helmet. His name stood out in white against his strikingly red uniform, while hers was nowhere to be found. Coming straight from a debrief of a flight mission, she wore nothing more than red jump suit bottoms with the top tied around her waist and a stained crew neck. The only thing that signified her right to be on this base was the identification card shoved deep within her left pocket. Ready to show in a moment's notice if needed, but hidden away from the world. She had little interest in sharing her rank so early but she might. She looked like an independent contractor, as they often wandered around at random hours wearing the exact thing Whitney was currently. Some privates got mouthy when working with independent contractors and to be fair, many contractors were shit and deserved to be treated as such from privates. But sleeping privates don't get privileges.