It was a simple matter really. Bringing a new recruit into the order. Arming them with knowledge and teaching them how to wield it as effectively as any weapon. Yet, during these days, recruits has been difficult to come by, it seemed fewer and fewer of the Emperor's denizen's had the strength of character, or will that the SS specifically chose them for. As for Dr. Shreiker, a Galatean native, they had chose him for his obvious medical skill as well as his fascination with nanometrics. The research of which his lab produced as some of the finest biomechanical technology in Terran space!  Of course, with him had its head.<br/><br/>Dr. Shreiker was a slim man, of average height quickly approaching his hundredth birthday, although to the untrained eye he looked no more than 60. He wore a long grey bear, neatly trimmed and a gently slicked row of hair on his head, combed over to hide a bald spot on his head. His grey-green eyes were perched behind thick rimmed square glasses that he wore constantly, so much so that they had dug a permanent red furrow into the sides of his nose.<br/>All that could have been easily fixed by gene-therapy and his favoured pets the nanomites, but he felt it gave him a bit of a worn look, a little bit of an indulgence for an old scientist who constantly provided the Empire with new toys and gadgets their little agents could play with.<br/><br/>Shreiker chuckled warmly to himself, thinking on how the subject of his appearance had been the subject of much consternation between him and his more...military counterparts. But, at the end of the day, no one felt keen to force the issue, after all they all had to go under his knife sooner or later.<br/>And such was the business of today! A young woman this time, a damaged marine even! Oh it had been a long time since he got to work on something as interesting as this. Not only was this particular agent-to-be very attractive in a traditional sense, but she was a bit of a fascination as well...professionally.<br/>Working around already implanted prosthetics, regenerating nerves and even limbs themselves! Oh, he took such joy in this work. Not only for the clear altruistic reasons, but for an almost childlike glee he got from infusing new life into dead limbs. It was a pity his superiors didn't let him do it more often....<br/><br/>"Ah Fraulein Greenfield!" he said cheerily as he turned to face the young woman who had entered his sanctum, a sterile operating room, totally dark except for the central light over the chair. The operating chair itself was cushioned, white, adjustable, antiseptic and otherwise unremarkable, like something you'd find in a dentist's office...the light which hung over it was not. It was part of a large robot which held a multifarious number of arms, hung in flexed like a massive spider with a few too many limbs, waiting to strike. Each arm held a different instrument, scalpels, spreaders, finger like projections of various sizes and lengths.<br/>It wasn't uncommon technology, alot of the bigger hospitals on Imperial and Alliance worlds used them to eliminate the need for more than one doctor in the OR, but it didn't make it any less terrifying to some.<br/><br/>Shreiker bowed respectfully as he gestured invitingly to the operating table, the various robotic arms coming to life.<br/>"The Major," he beamed at her delightfully a somewhat unnervingly, "tells me that you require my services?"<br/>Shreiker grinned. Oooh what a treat this was going to be!<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Sol System-Terra<br/>09:53 Imperial Standard Time<br/><br/>William counted the soft ticking of his watch as the minutes crept by. He was sitting in the cargo hold of a Revenant class stealth ship. It was small, cramped, and it was hot. He was sitting in the "hot-seat" as the boys in Titan station called in, right next to the ship's heat sinks, the cramped space grew warmer with each passing second while the transport's Stealth systems were engaged. It was a small thing, barely bigger than your average Hauler, and it was so packed full of gear and equipment that often there was only room for two crew, a pilot and a single agent.  That is why they were perfect for these drops.  Back when the Allliance and Empire were buddy buddy, agents could simply bribe or forge their way into past Alliance security. Or they could pose as a visitor from the outlying systems, then change personas once they infiltrated Alliance worlds. These days, with the blackout on trade and communication, any ship coming from parts unknown was always suspect. Especially since the ghouls had shown up, even though they had never pushed into Sol.<br/><br/>William checked his gear again, for what must have been the thirtieth time. It was all secure in his pod, the altimeters were set and there was minimal chance that anything would fly out of the canisters, even if they hit the deck hard.<br/>William took a glance at his watch again. Three minutes. Time to get frosty. It was going to be early morning out and the DZ was in a rural area outside the New York metropolis, where the target lived. Security was likely going to be tight, but it wasn't a concern to him. After all, in his short time as an agent he had managed to sneak into the Alliance President's office.... he grinned at the memory, he still imagined the look on the Alliance leader's face when he sat down in his chair only to have it collapse underneath him...a little "something extra" William had done after he had completed his objective.<br/><br/>"Thirty seconds, to the DZ milord." the pilot chirped over the intercom.<br/>"Roger." William nodded to himself, collecting his thoughts and making that one final quick check. He stepped into the pod, placing his rebreather on his face and sucking in his stomach slightly as he closed the door, his hands going to the braces on either side of the coffin-like structure. With a whirr of servos, and a shuddering slam he flt the ship move his pod into position, a rifle loading its chamber, prepared to fire.  A klaxon whooped, and the red light above his head came on. "Standing by" he murmered to himself, his mind falling into the ritual of preparing to fall several thousand feet with naught but a wafer thin layer of ablative armour to protect him from the fiery death of atmospheric entry.<br/>The light turned green and the klaxon beeped it steady tone.<br/>"Go!"<br/>He slammed the release and his stomach flew up into his throat as he felt the bottom drop out. From the tiny slit in the pods armour he could see himself falling away from the ship as it sped off again into the black, the blue green orb of Terra, tinged with the darkness of vanishing night approaching fast. Soon the vision was replaced, by one of fire...and light as the entire capsule buffered and bucked in the fires of a heaven through which he hurtled. "Humping Hell." the agents had called it, as William removed his back from the heating lining of the pod. The air was heavy and hot, growing thicker and thicker with each passing second as he streamed through the sky. One hundred, one ten, one twenty...<br/><br/>William kept his eye on the altimeter, as if staring at the numbers would make them drop faster. The black coating of the pod began to peel away, and the lining began to grow transparent, giving William a better few of the conflagration that threatened to smash through and consume him.<br/><br/>"Almost..." he groaned. His eye on the altimeter...<br/>"Almost..." the black coating was gone, and the flames inched closer...closer...<br/><br/>"There!" he screamed, slamming his hand on the control to release, a split second before the lining cracked and shattered to pieces. William fell harmlessly away from it, free from the metal coffin, he looked above him, the last of the pod was breaking up, disintegrating into the Earth's atmosphere.<br/>Just like designed...<br/><br/>William was in free fall now, thirty thousand feet and dropping fast. His cargo went before him, set to deploy parachutes at specific altitudes. His own parachute was manual. He felt a bit light headed as he fell, naught for a few seconds though, as he passed through the death zone, the pressure increasing as he dropped further down. From this point he could see an panorama of landscape around him, even the New York metropolis in the distance, a venerable mini-sun in its own right, the city's light radiating far into the night sky. Below him, there was little but blue tinged green fields and the occasional lights of passing vehicles, dimly lit homes and the occasional business.<br/><br/>He looked at his altimeter again, 10 thousand. It was nearly time. William flung open his body, limbs flailing in the wind as his approach slowed visibly, the canisters with his gear went before him, undeterred and then a few moments later, the soft dark shadows of night-drop parachutes appeared. William looked at his altimeter again. 6 thousand...5 thousand...4...3...2...<br/>He jerked the cord hard and braced himself as the ground rushed up to hug him...and hard....<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>