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I remember my first dive. I’d just gotten my cape, my armor, and my rifle. I was a young and bright-eyed Cadet, ready to face the enemies of Super Earth. I thought I’d be dropping on some bugs, turning them to E-710, laying waste to them before they had a chance to smell me. Never imagined my first dive would be to Malevelon Creek. I wasn’t part of the first recruitment wave. I’d heard the stories about The Creek. Red bullets screaming past your head. Hulks thundering towards you with buzzsaws and flamethrowers ready to kill. Cannon turrets capable of turning you into a fine red mist before you even have a chance to hear it shoot at you. And the eyes.

The red eyes peering through the mist. That’s what I remember first. I felt my pod crash into the soil and the charges detonate, popping the cap off before I rose. The first thing I saw were those awful eyes. They told me the bots don’t feel emotions. I beg to differ. The bots feel one emotion. Hate. You can see it, in those crimson lights. Hate for everything.

The bot’s head exploded before I could blink. The other Helldiver didn’t say anything, just shook their head. I didn’t even know their name. They were S3 on my Tacmap. I didn’t know any of their names. Just a letter and a number. I1. M2. S3. And to them, I was R4. Or “Rookie,” as they so often called me. The others scanned around for more of those foul lights before calling the zone clear, and I1 ordered everyone to call in their support weapons.

I fumbled the code twice before I called in my machine gun. I remember shaking so hard that my lefts became rights and my ups were downs. By the time my pod crashed into the ground, I1 and S3 had left towards the first objective, restarting a generator that supplied power to the ICBM we were supposed to launch. I1 had told M2 to take me and get the launch codes. We marched for all of five minutes before we found the remains of the massacre, the bots still patrolling the area like vultures circling a kill. I don’t know if my helmet’s filters were bad, or the smell was that strong, but I remember the stench.

Charred flesh. Smoke. Blood. M2 crouched in the bushes. I don’t think I’ll forget how meticulous they were before they started the fight. They pulled back the pump just enough to check the chamber. Switched to their pistol, pulled back the handle just enough to check the chamber, then pulled out the mag to make sure it was full. Shouldered their Autocannon, same check of the chamber.

“What Stratagems do you have, Rookie?” They asked me, plugging in a code to their own beacon. The first words anyone had said to me since we’d landed, and they weren’t even looking at me.

“J-just an Orbital Precision Strike.” I answered. I drew my beacon and prepared to plug in the code.

“Call it and aim for the Berserkers over there,” They pointed at two larger machines with chainsaws for arms. “Then get out that machine gun and be prepared to deal with whatever this doesn’t kill. I did as I was told. I plugged in the code and aimed for the Berserkers and then got prone with my gun, just like I’d trained. M2 threw their beacon and I saw it light up on my HUD. “Eagle Cluster Bomb.” I tried not to look up but couldn’t stop myself as I heard Eagle One’s engines roar in. I saw the bombs drop then split into a hundred smaller ones before they all exploded. They reminded me of firecrackers, in a way. The Orbital cannon hit next, a thundering boom that I felt in my chest. I quickly readied myself for a charge.

None came. All that remained was the smell of gunpowder and oil, and sparking Automaton corpses. M2 told me to search the pit nearby. I carefully walked down the stairs, trying not to look at the bodies. But that’s all I could see. Colonists looking for a better life, dead in a hole in the ground. I found the code at the bottom, next to a man with a hole in his chest and an arm missing. The blood around him was thick and dark, but not dry. This massacre was relatively recent. The man still had the shock and horror on his face. For a moment, in his vacant eyes, I saw myself-

“Mystic Two, this is Imperial One. Status report, over.” My radio came to life in my helmet. I hurried back up the stairs to rejoin the other Helldiver.

“Imperial One, Mystic Two. Found a bot garrison, took it out with Stratagems,” They turned their head to me as if to ask if I’d found anything. I held up the small disk with the codes as an answer. “Rookie found the codes, over.” They nodded in approval. I felt oddly proud in that moment.

“Good copy. Move to the Fuel Station and activate it,” The order from I1 came with a ping on our Tacmaps. “Then linkup at the Silo, out.”

“Catch that, Rookie?” They were looking at me. I nodded,

“Yes, Chief.”

“Good. Fuel Station is only a few hundred-” Our comms came alive again.

“Contact, contact! 3 O’clock, 50 meters! Fuck, it’s a patrol!” I didn’t recognize the voice as I1, so I assumed it was S3. I heard the gunfire start from where I was. “Get that bast-Fuck, FLARE!”

Bots would shoot up flares to call in reinforcements. It would also call bots from fabricators nearby, and one flare could very quickly result in four dead Helldivers.

“Rookie, we’re moving. We’ll be able to come up and flank the bots attacking the others. On your feet, let’s go!” M2 took off sprinting and I quickly followed. The gunfire was getting closer. I saw the dropships swoop in and drop off dozens of foot soldiers and a couple of the Scout Striders. “Watch our six.” M2 commanded as they took a knee and shouldered their Autocannon. Bang! One strider fell. Bang! Down went the other. Bang! They were shooting at the Devastators now. Bang! Bang!

I remembered I was supposed to be covering our six when a bullet hit the dirt to my right. I swung around and saw what I thought was going to be the last sight I’d ever see. Those red, hate-filled eyes, as they raised a red blade into the air. I don’t remember shooting. I remember hearing my empty Liberator click as I watched the lights die and crumple back. Then I felt the oil seeping into my uniform. It was warm.

Like blood. I turned around and saw M2 with their pistol drawn, aiming where the bot had been. I couldn’t see their eyes but I saw the disapproval. I’d almost gotten us both killed.

“Cease fire, cease fire.” I1’s voice.

“I never saw that fucker put his arm up,” S3. “Woulda nailed him before he popped it if I had.”

“Nobody’s blaming you, Sable. Besides, you’re quick with that Railgun. Hulk never had a chance. Thanks for the assist, Two.” I saw I1 give a thumbs up to the perch we were on. “Ammo check. How’re we doing?”

“Good here.” I could barely make out S3 reloading. I watched M2 load a fresh clip into their cannon before they responded,

“Good here, too. Rookie?” They turned to look at me as they drew their shotgun again.

“S-six Liberator Mags, Five-” I started to list my remaining ammo like I’d been taught but was interrupted by I1,

“They’re good. Come with us, you two. They’ll probably drop another Hulk to keep us from turning the generator back on.”

“A tank, if we’re lucky.” I could tell S3 was smiling when they said that. I swear they were looking at me, too. The generator was only a few minute’s jog from our firefight. I1 got on the terminal and set to work while the three of us kept overwatch. I thought I would like it if it were quiet. But the quiet came with a sense of dread. The quiet put you on edge. In a firefight, you don’t have time to think. You just kill, and hope you don’t get killed. The quiet gives you time to think. To think about your family. Your friends. The pretty girl you never asked out.

“What the fuck did those colonists do?!” I1 asked. “Five fucking fuses blown out, the voltage is FUBAR, and the goddamn transformer is off. Rookie, get up and get over to that lever over there. Pull it when I say so.” I looked behind me to see where he was pointing. I quickly scrambled to my feet and got over to the lever. It felt like an eternity before a little red light came on at the lever.

“Pull it,” I1 commanded. I grabbed and pulled down, hard, and the machine hummed to life. “Good, nothing’s damaged. Alright, Fuel Station is…” A ping on the Tacmap. 200 meters to our northwest. I looked at the most direct route there. A lot of red areas, signaling high enemy activity.

“Sir, that’s at least three outposts, one of which is sure to be heavy.” M2 sounded concerned.

“Two. This one,” S3 put a pin on the map on one of the smaller areas. “Mortar emplacement. Probably in range of the silo, too. Unless we want to launch that thing under IDF, we should bust it out now.”

“You ever stormed a bot outpost, Rookie?” I1 asked me. I didn’t get a chance to look at him closely until now, but it was clear I was in the presence of someone well above my station. They bore the light gray armor and gold cords of an officer. The plating was scarred, and their helmet was far from new.

“No sir. This is-” I answered.

“Same concept as the bug holes in Basic. Just aim for the vents at the top,” He told me. “And make sure you don’t miss. Let’s move, team.”

I saw the outpost as we crested a nearby hill. Towering smokestacks billowing black, foul smoke, high walls, machine guns, barbed wire, and…cages. I remember the cages clearly. Corpses, human corpses left to rot in them. I wonder if they were dead before they were thrown in.

“Call in an airstrike and we’ll charge while the smoke clears,” I1’s order came. “Rookie, you’re on fabricators. Let us handle anything that shoots back.”

“Y-yes sir.” I watched as M2 coded in another airstrike and lobbed the beacon into the outpost. Eagle One came screaming in, dropping more concentrated explosives this time. I watched the fireballs rise before following the others in a charge. M2 and S3 went in first. I1 stayed to the rear, picking off targets with practiced bursts of a Sickle laser rifle. I was somewhere in between, armed with my Liberator and adrenaline in my veins. I watched the two ahead of me clear the front of a fabricator. The building glowed an ominous red light. I chucked a grenade inside, and ran. It blew up behind me somewhat spectacularly, leaving smoldering rubble behind. We repeated this twice, before turning a corner and finding a tank barrel aimed at us.

“Shit, get BACK!” S3 cried. They barely dove behind cover before the shot hit. The impact knocked me down.

“Calling in Orbital strike!” I1 lobbed a beacon around the corner. A red targeting laser aimed at the Tank before a fraction of a moment later it simply exploded. “Rookie, one more!” I looked past the flaming wreck and saw another fabricator. I ran towards it and tossed my last grenade. The blast seemed to be more impactful than the others, it felt like the area shut down around it.

“Calling in resupply.” M2 tossed a beacon far enough it wouldn’t kill anyone and reloaded their shotgun.

“Good shit, Rookie,” S3 almost sounded proud of me. I felt that strange sense of pride again. “That was pretty clean.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole,” M2 jammed a stim needle into their neck. “Fuckin’ lost count of how many rounds I took.”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” S3 retorted. “Besides, you’ve survived worse.”

The Hellpod crashing into the earth shut the two up as the supply packs emerged. Everyone grabbed what they needed and we started our jog to the next target.

“Eagle One, this is Imperial One. What’re you still carrying, over?”

“Imperial One, this is Eagle One,” Eagle One’s voice came over the comms channel. “I’m still rockin’ enough for one airstrike, three clusters, and one 500 kilo, over.”

“Roger. Prep the 500 and wait for my beacon, out.” I1 looked over to me. “Let’s move.” We started at a jog, but quickly began to run as ahead of us, the mortar emplacements started to shoot. Red streaks arced up before crashing down around us. I glanced over to I1 and watched them punch in a code. I could never picture myself punching in a call-in code on the move. I learned the hard way you often have to. We were close enough to hear the mortars firing before I1 tossed the beacon. A red line shot into the sky, between and behind the mortars.

I jumped into the prone on instinct. The right move, I sensed, when everyone else did the same. I felt the bomb stick into the ground, even from almost 50 meters away. But I distinctly remember the blast. I felt the shockwave threaten to tear my cape off my shoulders. I felt the heat through my armor. I remember getting up and being shocked that there were still bots standing after that. I remember turning that shock into steeled nerves as I aimed my Liberator and shot.

I remember seeing oil spill. Bot bodies dropping, sparking. I remember S3’s Railgun taking the head off a Devastator. I remember wondering why I1 didn’t have a support weapon. The smoke had barely cleared before we marched on, clearing another outpost and getting to the fuel station. It was well-guarded, but we handled it well. Eagle One started back for the Destroyer to resupply as we restarted the fuel station.

“Props to the colonists,” I1 said at the terminal. “They managed to redirect the flow to an old holding station. Problem is that isn’t where I fucking need it. Ah, fuck, they cut the flow valves too.”

“Rookie, go grab that far valve. I got this one.” M2 jogged over to a bright yellow valve. S3 took the one behind it and I was left with the farthest of the three. It felt like it was stuck, at first, but it gave way and turned.

“Fuel is flowing. Off to the Silo,” I1 said. “Hold up. Dawn has a resupply ready. Ammo check.”

“Drop it.” Both M2 and S3 said in unison. The pod fell and we stocked up. 100 meters to the northeast laid a silo, no doubt guarded by bots, containing a single ICBM we would use to decimate untold numbers of Automatons. That was it, then we would leave. Mission accomplished. I1 plugged another call-in code into their beacon and tossed it a few meters to their side.

“Sable, walker for you.” I watched with awe as a Pelican came and dropped a bulky EXO-45 Patriot suit, which S3 quickly climbed into. I remember thinking it’d be slower than it was. I had to sprint to keep up with it, which made the 100 meters very short. There were a few foot soldiers, striders, and a Hulk guarding the silo. I1 punched in a code and lobbed their beacon at the Hulk. The same red targeting laser as earlier, the same pulse in the sky, then a flaming wreck of a Hulk. M2 took me down to the silo, and we made sure there wasn’t anything left standing.

“When the lights come on, grab a handle,” They pointed to the four large bolts around the hatch. “Twist, pull, then twist it back. Got it?”

“Got it.” The lights came on, and I did as I was told. The lugs were heavy, but no worse than the machine gun on my back. The little white lights turned orange as the locks retracted, allowing the silo doors to open.

“Rookie, get up here,” I1 ordered. I hurried up the hill to where the terminal sat. “Set up over there and keep an eye on my six.” They pointed to a rock ledge to their left. Once again, I did as I was told, laying down with my machine gun and keeping an eye out. I wanted to look back and watch the missile, but I’d learned my lesson about distractions earlier. I only heard I1 work the terminal behind me.

“Patrol. Southwest. 50 meters.” S3 said. I had a sightline to turn and see, and watched as they marched directly our way.

“Patrol. Southeast. 100 meters. Closing fast.” M2 observed. I readied my machine gun and waited.

“Spill oil, Rookie.” I can’t remember who said it. I remember laying down a hail of fire on every set of red eyes I saw. I heard the rockets and machine gun of the mech firing off. I couldn’t look. There were still red eyes marching my way. The gunfire must’ve attracted more, as Berserkers and Devastators marched closer. Red bullets started screaming past me but I stayed low, trying to aim bursts towards the heads of the clanking beasts. Dirt flew as explosions ripped the bots apart, S3’s last missiles saving me from having to dump a mag into one of the Devastators.

“Everybody get back!” I1 called out as I heard a blaring countdown and felt the ground beneath me rumble. I turned back to look just in time to see the missile fly free of the silo and somewhere to the southwest. “It’s going to be hell until we’re sitting on Pelican One, Rookie. Reload your shit and get ready. We’re not stopping until that beacon is active.”

How right they were. The extract zone was 200 meters to the southeast and every step of the way was dodging bullets and explosions. 50 meters in and S3 abandoned the exosuit, finally having run it dry. I lost count of how many bots I killed. Eagle One was soaring around, dropping bombs to our rear or unleashing a strafing run on targets to our front. When we finally got to the old landing pat that served as our extraction, I was down to my last clip. M2 had switched to their pistol some time ago. S3 called in supplies while I1 punched in the extraction request.

“Extraction request confirmed, shuttle inbound.” Pelican One’s voice came through the comms loud and clear. Sweet Liberty, I never thought I’d hear those words.

“Three fucking minutes-shit, get ready for a long fucking fight,” I1 was staring at the timer on the beacon. “They’re going to do everything to keep us from leaving.” I checked my Tacmap and saw red blips coming our way. Lots of red blips. Everyone picked a spot and aimed their weapon at it, myself included, and we waited for hell to come to us. I couldn’t tell you the details of the fight, it’s all a blur in my head. I remember holding my trigger until the bullets ran dry. I remember seeing S3 take heads off Devastators with a Railgun. I remember seeing M2 slam-fire a Berserker in half. I remember watching I1 draw a revolver and take six heads off in as many shots. I remember warm fluids soaking into my armor. I don’t remember if it was blood or oil. I remember hearing Pelican One’s engines roar as he descended. I remember not caring. I saw the bodies of the colonists. I saw my family in the cages.

All I saw was red. Every one of these fucking bots was responsible and I would kill each and every one. I shot and shot until I felt three searing hot rounds impact my chest. I remember thinking that was it, until I saw M2’s helmet over me, dragging my limp body into the shuttle. We were taking off as they propped me in my seat. The gunfire still rang in my head but faded as I felt a stim jam into my neck. I looked down at my armor. Yellow paint was marred with blood, oil, and scorch. It was full of dents and holes. I wondered how bad my cape looked.

“Are we…done?” I asked. Three helmets nodded at me.

“You did alright, Rookie,” M2 said. “Probably not what you’re used to, huh?”

“This…this was my first dive.” I admitted. I could only imagine the looks on their faces, but the stunned silence said enough.

“Take your helmet off, Rookie,” S3 commanded. I did, feeling the stale cabin air rush over the blood running down my face. “What’s your name, son?” They asked.

“Kylar, sir.” I answered.

“You’ve got a choice, Kylar,” I1 said, firmly. “When we get back onboard the Dawn, say the word and I can send you to the Terminid front. No questions asked, just a transport shuttle to the first Destroyer with an open slot for a Helldiver. Or…” They trailed off, looking to M2, who finished the offer.

“Or you stay with us. The Emperor of Dawn has been in Malevelon’s orbit since we started the Second Battle. You’ll probably never see a bug in the rest of your life.”

“And your life expectancy will drop considerably,” S3 added. “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘There are no Old Divers on Malevelon Creek.’ There’s a reason for that.”

“What’s it going to be, Rookie?” I1 asked. I had a choice. They hadn’t said it, but I knew if I accepted the offer to stay, I’d be signing my own death warrant. I’d still have a chance at life if I said I wanted to go fight bugs. But I thought about those people in the cages. I thought about my family, who were only a few jumps from Draupnir. Were they next? If I stayed, I could keep them safe. I couldn’t do shit for them if I was on Angel’s Venture fighting bugs.

“I’ll stay.” I answered. I wonder what my life would be like if I’d said I wanted to go. But it doesn’t matter now. I watched I1 tap something into their wristpad. My ID tag on the Tacmap updated. “K4,” It now read. I1 wiped their fingers in the oil on their armor, black streaking into the light gray and across gold. They wiped it across my forehead and under my eyes.

“Baptised in oil,” They said, before taking my helmet from me and putting it back on my head. All three of them wiped blood from their wounds and onto my helmet, across my forehead and under my visor. “Anointed in blood. Welcome to the Emperor of Dawn, Killer.”