A/N: Hi there, thanks for clicking on this! Before we get started, I want to send a big thank you and shout out to Starwarsmast3r for originally beta reading, then joining the writing process for this story. He's taken the helm (pun intended) on the Navy portions while I'm focusing on the Infantry portions. I've been working on it for some time now and I hope it's good. This was loosely inspired by the Gears of War 4 "Tomorrow" Trailer. I thought it was an interesting idea to incorporate modern military forces into a world that is so bombastic and overwhelming that it would actually prove to be a challenge to survive for the protagonist faction. But, I leave that up to you, the reader, to decide for yourself. Enjoy!

Your faith in mankind was not misplaced...When banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat...But divide them...Place doubt into their minds...and any semblance of power they once had will wash away. Of course they won't realize it at first. Like you, they'll cling to their fleeting hope, their aspirations...But this is merely the first move. So you send your guardians, your huntsmen and huntresses. And when they fail you turn to your smaller soul and your strange soldiers. Know that you send them to the same, pitiful demise. These men will not bring salvation to your people as you believe. They will cause false hope and doubt to spread like an uncontrollable fire. A fire that will consume you all.

This is the beginning of the end, Ozpin.

And I can't wait, to watch you burn.

RWBY: Strangers in a Strange Land

Chapter 1: Anomaly

PACIFIC OCEAN, INTERNATIONAL WATERS
HMCS SIR ISAAC BROCK, CVN 1000
AUGUST 29th 2017
TIME - 2200

ROYAL CANADIAN NAVY
MARITIME FORCES PACIFIC
MARPAC
COMMANDER WILLIAM DIETZ

Her Majesty's Canadian Ship, the Sir Isaac Brock raced through the Pacific, parting the sea as she rushed into battle ahead. Her ship wide speakers blared as Commander William Dietz approached the bridge. As he stepped through, he removed his service hat from his head. He looked to his left noticing his Navigation Officer, and also acting Officer of the Watch, Ashley Beckett at the comms station announcing orders to the crew

"Action stations, Action stations! All hands man your battle stations. The flow of traffic is up and forward on the starboard side, down and aft on the port. Set material condition Zebra- code red throughout the ship. This is not a drill."

Lieutenant Beckett looked to her left after hanging up the microphone. Noticing her Commanding Officer on the deck, she snapped to attention and saluted, commanding the others on the bridge to do the same "Captain on deck!"

Dietz walked past and completed an impromptu salute in the essence of time "Carry on." he replied, moving to the center of the bridge "OOW, you're relieved. Where are we at?"

"We found the target again sir, 5 degrees relative." Beckett replied.

"Show me." Dietz ordered. Beckett showed a navigation console to the Captain that concurred with her earlier report.

"Fire the 46's and come about flank three." Dietz ordered as he sat in his chair, It was a navy blue with the words 'C.O' in gold writing written on the back. His chair was to the right of the bridge, with a seat for his X.O to the left

"Sir, target is still approaching, five degrees off portside bow." Beckett

"Rudder starboard 20 degrees relative, get some distance." Dietz commanded to the helmsman. As the ship yawed starboard, he reached for the white telephone on the console in front of him and dialed the Combat information Center "CIC prepare to mark target and fire on my command, prep the mark 46's for another round."

"Yes sir." the officer responded. Dietz looked down to the console to his right and spun his seat to face it. Something didn't feel right to him.

"Becky, how fast are they going?"

"Target is approaching 30 knots sir." Beckett responded. Dietz knew the Brock would never catch up to them while going a steady 22 knots. Dietz sighed and knew what he had to do.

"We need to catch up, fast!" Dietz picked up the phone again, this time calling engine room where the ship's nuclear reactor engines were kept and maintained. "Bridge to engine room, disable rev limiters and override all engine safeties."

The senior engineer responded "Sir I…"

"Your dissatisfaction is noted Scotty, just do it." The Captain hung up. He felt that something was wrong, his gut was acting up. He knew that overriding safeties was never an option in DND's playbook, they had spent too much money to see a ship this size and this expensive be dead in the water. If or moreover when they found out, he would have some explaining to do.

"Nav, where are they?"

"They're getting out of range sir, another minute and we'll have lost them."

"Fine, helm, give us another 20 degrees starboard, prepare to go quiet one." Quiet one was a difficult order to execute properly. The idea behind such a command is that so long as the enemy is using sonar and radar to track your location and your being as silent as the grave; they can't find you. The problem is that for it to work properly, you can't make any noise. Speed cannot exceed two knots in order to reduce engine vibration, the crew has to stay completely still and remove all footwear to reduce phantom signatures and lights have to be off to reduce visibility.

"Forget quiet one sir." Beckett interrupted "I'm tracking three, now four targets inbound on active sonar. They'll be on us in seconds."

"Nav, sound the alarm. Brace for impact."

"We're not going to fire sir?" Beckett responded

"Nah, we lost fair and square. It was a good try." Dietz said, lying back in his chair, slouching and waiting for the damage report.

"We have detonation sir, aft, just below the engines." Beckett stated to the crew. The crew let out a moan in disappointment.

"Damn, Austin. Good hit. All stop helm and hold. Beckett, take the crew off battle stations, the test is over."

A Seaman approached the Captain from the Communication station on the left-hand side of the bridge "Captain, I have Pennsylvania Actual on the horn, asking for you sir."

"Thank you, seaman, which line?"

"Switchboard says line one sir."

Dietz nodded in thanks to the Seaman and connected to the ship's switchboard, dialing the one extension. A robotic voice answered the phone on the Pennsylvania side.

"You have reached the switchboard for SSBN - 735. According to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Subchapter 10, Article 108, misuse of this switchboard is subject to disciplinary action by your commanding officer by use of…" The voice cut off as Dietz already was aware of the extension to the bridge.

"Pennsylvania Bridge."

"HMCS Brock for Captain Austin."

The petty officer chuckled after hearing the caller.

"I'll connect you right away sir."

"I didn't know they let you make collect calls from the grave."

"Solid work Austin, you got us."

"Damn straight I did, right in the reactor too. Say, did you override safeties to get away?"

"Tried, but you just kept diving. We never stood a chance."

"Well, you can't beat pure talent. Now, about that Brandy I won?"

"Will be hand delivered to your stateroom, as promised."

"Very well. I'd say 'race you back to Pearl', but you've overworked your engines enough."

A Seaman darted over to the Captain, interrupting his message.

"Sir, have Vice-Admiral Lloyd for you on E-com, says it's urgent!"

Dietz walked over to the comms station and picked up the bright red phone, nodding to the seamen to give him some room. As the seamen acknowledged and parted from his station, Deitz turned his attention to the pending phone call.

"Vice-Admiral Lloyd, sir, I wasn't expecting to talk to you. Usually, I speak to Rear-Admiral McDonald…"

"Rear-Admiral Mcdonald has been briefed on what I'm about to tell you. As this is top secret, this will need to be private."

"Yes sir, let me take this call in my quarters" Dietz put his commanding officer on hold, hanging up the phone. "Lieutenant Beckett?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring the ship back into the green, push half ahead both engines, set revolutions at 2000. You have the deck; I'll be in my quarters" Dietz got up out of his chair and moved towards the exit. The crew snapped to attention and returned to work once the captain was at the door.

"Yes, sir. Helm you heard the captain, ahead half on both, set revs at 2000." Officer Beckett ordered.

"Yes, ma'am, ahead half." The helmsman repeated. He moved both throttles on his console to the number two setting, signifying 2000 revolutions.

The captain took his leave from the bridge, putting on his service cap as he exited the bridge and headed towards his quarters on the port side of the ship. Davie Shipbuilding constructed the Captain's Quarters on the same deck as the rest of the crew instead of on a separate deck for the sake of extra space. Dietz closed his door and took a seat at his desk. He eyed the phone that sat on his desk and grabbed it, lifting the receiver to his ear.

1 HOUR LATER

Dietz decided to take a walk around the fantail when he ran across his XO, lighting a cigar as he leaned upon the railing. As the embers at the end of the roll started to smoke, he placed it in his mouth.

"Smoking's against reg, Mike." Dietz said jokingly, leaning the same way as his second in command. They both looked out as water bubbled up from the propellers. Mike laughed off the subtle attempt at stopping him

"Yeah? Hadn't noticed."

"Back of the ship, no flights tonight. At least you have the decency to hide your insubordination."

Mike laughed, taking another intake of smoke

"You gonna report me to JAG commodore?"

Dietz chuckled as his bluff was called

"I suppose I'll let you off with a warning."

There was another long pause of silence.

"Did I tell you Ciena is leaving me?"

Dietz was taken back by the comment. The Captain was using the left side of his body to lean upon the railing looking at his XO who remained in the same position, taking another whiff of smoke

"Mike, I, don't know what to say."

"She said, I had to choose between her and the Navy. Apparently, she had enough of being a military wife and that she wanted to move back to Calgary."

"And you choose the Navy?"

"You sound disappointed."

"Just surprised, last time our families had dinner together you guys seemed happy."

"That was three years ago; we were still stationed at CFB Halifax at that point. You still had…"

"Neither here nor there Mike. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's not your fault. Any reason we're not going back to Pearl?"

"Ottawa says our mission has changed."

"Let me guess, Horn of Africa? the Gulf?"

"Esquimalt, with further deployment to Halifax via the Panama Canal."

"Any reason why?"

"There is, but it's too classified to say over the phone. It'll need to be in-person."

'Ah, my least favorite word in the English language."

"What, classified?"

"In-person."

PETAWAWA, ONTARIO - CANADA
CANADIAN FORCES BASE – PETAWAWA
SEPTEMBER 16 2017
TIME – 1600

1ST BATTALION, ROYAL CANADIAN REGIMENT
BRAVO COMPANY
1ST PLATOON
2 SECTION
PTE CARVER

On a surprisingly hot September day, the column of LAV III transports occupied by the First Battalion of the Royal Canadian Regiment rocked side to side, traversing the tank tread-ridden training area of CFB Petawawa. Within the cramped, reinforced steel walls of 2-Sections LAV, Private Jack Carver bobbed his head and mouthed the lyrics to the loudly playing Theory of a Deadman.

"We like our hair down, volume up, kick like a machine gun, cold beer, stage dive, scream along night! Metal brings us to our knees, mother fuckin' therapy!"

While the music blasted the ear drums of the soldiers, Jack Carver's fire team partner Jerome Lewis slept on his shoulder, completely exhausted from their field training exercise consisting of sleep deprivation and long engagements with mock opposition force. Being relatively new soldiers to their unit, both men operated at a high level of proficiency to highlight their skills and potential.

Their Section Commander, Master Corporal Farren, viewed in slight awe that the young soldier was still active let alone awake. The kid had an incredibly long and relatively sleepless field exercise and showed little signs of fatigue. He was a toddler on a sugar rush. Either Farren was getting older and more tired, or the younger troops were getting more amped up.

While a typical rifle section in the Canadian Infantry was commanded by a Sergeant, higher ups saw fit to give Farren experience in a leadership position as he would soon be Sergeant.

Private Lewis mumbled and shifted, a mixture of the conversations, Private Carver bobbing and the music waking him.

"Jack…" Lewis groggily muttered. "Sit still…Your arm is a perfect pillow…"

"My bad man." Jack froze in his seat and resorted to lightly tapping his muddy combat boot against the LAV's floor to avoid irritating his fatigued comrade.

"Want a pro tip, Carver?" Farren spoke up from the rear of the vehicle.

"Yes, Master Corporal!" Jack immediately answered.

"Learn to use what little free time you have to rest. Not saying I'm not impressed by your drive, but trust me when I say you'll learn to treasure sleep. Your friend seems to already grasp that concept well." Farren chuckled.

"Uhh, right. Understood, Master Corporal."

Jack loosened his helmet strap and placed the Kevlar helmet in his lap. His light brown hair, soaked with sweat, finally got some air, slightly cooling the soldier down. However, the LAV was far too cramped to remove his body armor and tactical vest. He'd have to remain in the sweat-drenched equipment until they disembarked. He closed his eyes to seemingly adhere to Master Corporal Farren's instructions, even if he wasn't tired at all.

Farren's second in command, Corporal Owens chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Farren asked, a light grin on his face.

"All the new guys are the same. Peppy 'Yes Master Corporal!' types, ya know?"

"To be fair, we were probably the exact same when we were Privates. And at least Carver is a good Soldier from what I've seen."

"Yeah I'll give him that. Motivation isn't lacking. Unfortunately, motivation isn't everything, though."

"You're not wrong about that, Owens." Farren reminisced of his tour in Afghanistan. Training and staying calm under fire was the ultimate test of a Soldier's skill. Farren knew that better than any of the men in his section.

In due time, the column of armored vehicles halted, reaching the Battalion's destination within the large Military installation; the armory. The soldiers would hand in their weaponry before returning to their barracks.

The ramp of the LAV III lowered, allowing Master Corporal Farren and Corporal Owens to disembark and get a count of their soldiers as they exited the vehicle. Their head count was two shy of a full house. Farren raised a brow before peering into the LAV. Carver and Lewis still sat slumped against the steel wall, mouths wide open, out cold.

Farren and Owens looked at each other.

"…Well…At least they took my advice…"

The Master Corporal sighed and re-entered the LAV to retrieve his last two soldiers. He tapped Lewis, the darker skinned Private, on the shoulder, waking him instantly.

The Private looked around curiously, until noticing the Master Corporal standing above him.

"Shit!" Lewis shot up quickly, grabbing his rifle and rucksack before darting out the back of the LAV to join the remainder of his section.

"Carver." Farren tapped Jack on the head.

The young Private's eyes shot wide open immediately. His hands grabbed his helmet and instinctively threw it on his head. In the blink of an eye, the helmet was fastened to Jack's head, and his C7A2 was in his right hand with his rucksack ready by his feet.

"We there yet, Master Corporal?" The now wide awake soldier asked.

Farren looked around at the empty LAV and back to his subordinate. "Uhh, yeah."

Jack just then took the time to observe the empty troop compartment and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over.

"Damn it! Sorry, Master Corporal!"

Jack shot up in a similar fashion to Lewis and attempted to sprint out the back.

"Jack."

The use of his first name by the Master Corporal came as a surprise, causing him to halt and turn, a perplexed expression painted on his face.

"Never say you're sorry. If there's a problem, if you screw up; fix it. Never pass a fault, Soldier."

Private Carver contemplated Farren's advice. "Understood."

"Go on, get in the armory line."

Jack spun on his heel and broke into a dash to join his section in the line.

1 HOUR LATER – 1ST BATTALION BARRACKS

Jack let out a loud sigh as he did up the buttons to a clean CADPAT uniform. He'd finally managed to get a shower, shave and a fresh change of clothes after handing in his rifle to the armory. The Seventeen-year-old soldier looked at himself in the mirror to find any defections in his shave job.

The Canadian soldier had light brown hair which matched his eyes that gazed at him in the mirror. While he did not sport the buzz cut many soldiers in his unit did, Jack usually maintained a short to medium length natural style, trimming it to avoid any hairs resting on his forehead. He stood at six foot one with the Infantry standard fitness build earned through copious amounts of physical training.

As for the young man himself, he was witty, intelligent, funny, generally motivated and confident, however, a little shy upon meeting new individuals, especially if they outranked him.

His eyes trailed down to his combat shirt. They scanned the shirt, attempting to read the name tape that rested on the right side of his chest. The white crossed swords were soon followed by "Carver." In the center of his chest was a single white chevron, symbolizing his rank; Private. Just below it bore his regiment; RCR.

Like his father before him, Jack enlisted at the earliest opportunity into the Regular Force of the Canadian Army, more specifically; the Royal Canadian Infantry Corps. While his father had been a Major in Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, Jack found himself satisfied with being a non-commissioned member in the Royal Canadian Regiment. One day, though, he'd hope to be a Master Corporal much like Farren.

"Hey, Jack." Jerome stepped into the Barracks, interrupting his train of thought.

Jerome entered clad in a clean uniform as well.

"Hey!" Jack raised two fingers to his brow, forming a mock salute.

"Did Farren chew you out when we got back?" Jerome asked while throwing his dirty combat uniform into his laundry bag.

Jack raised a brow, uncertain of the answer. "I don't think so? Why? Did he chew you out?"

"Nah, the moment I woke up I ran for the hills to avoid it."

"Heh, figures." Jack muttered with a smirk.

"That just means we're screwed in another way. I bet…hmm…fire picket!? Not like we need sleep after all the 'rest' we got on the ride back…" Jerome used exaggerated hand gestures encompassed with the sarcasm in his voice to express his point.

"Don't jinx it. Our luck is terrible enough already!" Jack pointed at his colleague.

Jack took one last glance at himself in the mirror before entering the main room of their Section barracks.

"All I'm saying is; embrace the suck, Carver!"

Carver scoffed as he walked over to the cot where his equipment lay strewn about on the top. He knelt to the ground and opened up the barrack box at the foot of the bed. Jack carefully placed his gear into the crate before locking it away until the time came to wear it again.

PETAWAWA, ONTARIO - CANADA
CANADIAN FORCES BASE – PETAWAWA
SEPTEMBER 16 2017
TIME – 1830

1ST BATTALION, ROYAL CANADIAN REGIMENT
BRAVO COMPANY
1ST PLATOON
PLATOON COMMANDER
LT. BRYSON

"Thanks, Sir! Have a good one."

"Yeah talk to you later, Corporal."

Lieutenant Bryson yawned as he stepped out of the company armory. A long ride back to base after a long training exercise followed by a long wait in the turn-in line had the officer thanking whatever deity there was for finally finishing his day.

"You're looking tired, Sir."

Bryson looked up, seeing his long-time colleague; Master Corporal Farren, still wearing his combat equipment just like the officer. Both men smiled.

"Thought I told you, George. You don't have to call me Sir when it's just us. Seems weird since you were the superior rank before I commissioned."

"Just a habit now, Paul."

They chuckled and began to walk side by side.

"So, how'd the Platoon look as a whole during the exercise? We doin' good?" Farren asked.

"Yeah I'd say we're still up to snuff from what I could see. Being the Platoon commander doesn't always give you the best view of what's going on, that's why I rely on the section commanders to get the job done. How would you say your guys did?"

"Good. Very good." Farren spoke with certainty.

Lieutenant Bryson chuckled and raised a brow. "That it? Any details?"

Farren shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really know what to say. Whatever task came down from you got handled quickly with precision. That's the goal right?"

"Yeah but how are the troops?"

"They work well together. The noobs have pleasantly surprised me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. One in particular; Jack Carver. Young guy reminds me a lot of you actually."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah, he shares your ridiculous eagerness and motivation. Plus, he's a demon with the M203."

"Well, always good to have crack shots I guess. I'll challenge him to a shoot off, see who's the best shot in the platoon." Bryson cockily smirked.

"Yeah…I'm gonna keep an eye on the kid. He's eager like I said, but a part of me thinks he doubts his own capabilities. Might throw some tips and tricks into the mix and see what kind of Soldier he progresses to be. His dad was a Major, so I imagine an ass load of stories and tips have already been shoved down his throat, but it can't hurt to feed him more."

"Yeah you've got a good poi-" Bryson was interrupting by a buzzing in his pocket. "One sec, George." The Lieutenant pulled out his phone to check who was calling. The Company commander.

Bryson pressed talk and put the phone to his ear. "Lieutenant Bryson."

"Bryson, are you still in line handing in weapons?"

"Negative, Sir. Just finished."

"Good. I need you in the meeting hall. Right now."

"Yes, sir. I'll drop off my gear and head down."

"Now, Lieutenant." Urgency lingered in the company commander's voice.

"...Understood, sir. I'll be right there."

Bryson ended the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "Shit..." He muttered.

"I'm assuming you're gonna have to dump your gear, aren't you?"

"Huh, you know the chain so well, George."

Farren sighed. "Give it here, I'll run it back to your quarters."

"Thanks, George. I owe you a beer."

"Owe me more than a beer. But we'll settle with this for now."

SEVEN MINUTES LATER

Bryson approached the entrance to the Headquarters meeting hall, surprised to see two armed guards; two Corporals with loaded C7 Rifles. His brow furrowed. The men stepped in front of the doors, blocking his way. Both men saluted the officer but did not move from their spots.

Bryson came to the position of attention and returned the gesture. Once his hand came back down to his side, he expected the men to move. They did not. Much to the confusion of the Lieutenant.

"Sorry, Sir. Just need to check if you're authorized. Just a precaution." One of the Corporals said.

The soldier pulled out a notepad, letting his weapon hang from its sling. The Corporal viewed Bryson's name tape and rank patch while sifting through the notes.

"Lieutenant Bryson…" He muttered and scanned the pages.

"1st Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon. That you sir?"

"One and only." Bryson responded, curious as to why these steps were being taken.

Just what the hell was going on?

The Corporal that had been searching the pages stepped out of the way while the other opened one of the doors.

"Go on in, Sir."

Bryson walked in and immediately halted. Dozens of men had already been residing in the room. Some Lieutenants like him, others going as high as Colonels and above. He felt nervous. So many high ranking officers on such a short notice must have made the meeting paramount.

The large rectangular hall bore all Provincial flags along the walls and most importantly; the maple leaf hung above a large, slightly elevated podium, at the rear of the room. Just above the podium hung a projector screen, obviously for presentations. Division flags, unit emblems, and the Army's insignia were located around the room as well.

Bryson eyed around the chamber a little longer until spotting another Lieutenant like himself, one that he knew.

"Bishop!" Bryson jogged over.

Lieutenant Bishop was the Platoon Commander of Bravo Company, 2nd Platoon, just behind Bryson and his men.

"Bryson." The Lieutenant acknowledged, slight nervousness audible in his voice.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Not a goddamn clue…We've got Platoon commanders here, Company commanders, I think the Battalion Commander is down here too. Hell, man, it wouldn't surprise me if the chief of the defence staff was here…Whatever's going on, it's big."

War was the first thing that came to Bryson's mind.

But with who? What the hell started it? No…No everyone would know, and it'd be everywhere in minutes. This isn't war…this is something else.

"GROUP!"

As if on cue, the Officers were called to attention upon the arrival of an even higher ranking individual. The most senior ranking officer amongst the men at attention; a lieutenant colonel, offered a salute to the appearing General. The old looking General halted, saluted, and continued on his way to the podium at the rear of the room.

"Relax. Gentlemen, please take a seat."

The clutter of Officers found any available seat and instantly removed pens and paper from their pockets. Bryson watched attentively as the General approached the podium.

"Good evening, Gentlemen. And thank you for coming." The man started. "My name is General Bailey from Headquarters in Ottawa."

General Bailey observed the crowd of Officers before speaking again.

"Today Gentlemen I'm here to provide you with information and a task…neither of them simple. The information I bring to you today…is…difficult to convey. But I assure you it is quite out of the ordinary."

The General scratched his chin and grabbed a laser pointer from the podium as the projector screen lowered just behind him. Once the display lit up, an image was displayed on the screen; a map of Canada.

Bryson squinted, observing the map he was so familiar with for discrepancies, clues that would assist him in making sense of what was going on. A lone red dot was marked in the Hudson Bay area. Right in the water.

With a sigh, Bailey continued. "On the 28th of August, at 0523 hours, a Naval patrol craft detected a lone signal setting off its radar. The ship was patrolling the Hudson Bay area and moved to investigate whatever it caught on its radar, here."

The laser pointer circled the red dot that Bryson had taken notice of. Far from any landmass, the anomaly was isolated in the large body of water, limiting access to Naval means.

"What that patrol craft found…It's best if I show you. Gentlemen what I am about to show you is classified to the highest degree of Operational Security. What you see does not leave this room. You will be given a guide on how to inform your men, but operational briefs can wait for now."

The display changed.

Whispers of doubt, confusion and genuine fear of the unknown lingered around the room.

"What the hell is that…"

Bryson leaned forward in his seat, wide-eyed. What he and the other Officers saw could only be described as some sort of darkish-red void. A tunnel that was reminiscent of a black hole. After a few more moments of observing the anomaly, Lieutenant Bryson began to jot down notable features of the void as well as a sketch for reference.

"From what the Department of National Defence's research team could hypothesize upon its discovery; the anomaly is some sort of portal. This theory was tested with the use of drones entering and returning from the threshold. Human travel was confirmed by a team of scientists and a security detail being deployed beyond the anomaly on the HMCS Endeavour."

Like many of the men in the room, Bryson was shocked to learn that people had already traversed this seemingly new anomaly. He had to wonder, though, if the DND Research and Development branch was handling it, why was this information being reported to Infantry Company and Platoon Commanders. Surely this was high above their pay grade and security clearance.

"Contact by radio was deemed impossible once the teams had crossed over. From the drone footage we recovered, we know that there is land on the other side. Though much like its location in the Hudson Bay area, the other end is accessible only by Naval ships.

The display finally changed from the anomaly to drone footage. A handful of Enhanced Naval Boarding Party operators accompanied a contingent of scientists on the deck of a ship. The operators had their weapons drawn, observing every direction for possible contact. The actual 'world' looked no different than anywhere else on Earth from a first glance. The ship navigated a body of water, heading towards land in the distance.

"Initially, the operation seemed to pose no threat, however soon after a number of RHIBs departed the main ship and made it to land, weapons discharge soon followed. A lot of it. The drone feed was cut shortly after that."

"The team has not yet returned from the other side. We have every reason to assume they are compromised and are in need of extraction, dead or alive; they're coming back."

"That's where you come in, gentlemen. Division command has been ordered to prepare a response. This is coming straight from the top; the PM and the CDS. It's been decided that we cannot commit the entirety of a Regular Force Regiment to this operation or it would severely deplete our capabilities domestically and abroad. Even with Reserve Force augmentation, we can only deploy one Battalion."

"1st Battalion of the Royal Canadian Regiment will be sent beyond the threshold to establish a forward operating base, extract the initial team and repel hostiles, if any."

The briefing hall was quickly deafening. Shouting questions and arguments erupting amongst some of the lower ranking officers.

"Gentlemen, please relax." General Bailey ordered. "We have retasked the Naval ship, HMCS Sir Isaac Brock, to act as support for the Battalion's operation. If all goes as planned, the scientists will be returned safely, and a forward operating base will be constructed within a week. But here's the bad news...you will be deployed in three days. You will be given temporary leave to say goodbye to your families and get a little bit of R&R"

"Jesus. How god damn generous." Bryson muttered, placing a palm on his forehead. A mixture of fear and not wanting to leave his Fiance boiled into pure negativity, like many officers around him. Groans filled the room.

This was unbelievable. While yes, the men trained everyday as it was their job, there had been no work up training for a deployment. That mixed in with having only three days before an actual deployment, into a freakish other worldly portal, made the whole thing stupid ridiculous.

"I understand many of you, if not all of you, see this as unfair and ridiculous, as will your men. But gentlemen know that the men and women beyond that threshold may not have a lot of time. We have to act quickly if we want to save as many lives as possible. You men have a world changing and challenging task ahead of you. I'm sure you will perform admirably. Thank you for your time." The General left the stage abruptly. Just as he did, a few logistical Corporals naturally associated with him began handing out flyers of some sorts. Operational briefs.

That was it?

Bryson's head was spinning, and his ears were ringing. He was about to pull out his phone and call his fiance were it not for a Corporal halting in front of him.

"Sir?" The corporal called, no response from the dazed Lieutenant. "Sir!"

Bryson shook his head and looked up, seeing a Corporal extending her arm, holding one of the brief sheets. He took the sheet and glanced over it. Instructions on what he could and could not say, what his men could or could not say, the charges of treason if they did say anything and what little information they had on the anomaly were all on the sheet.

"Thank y-" When he looked up once again, the Corporal was gone, handing more flyers out. He sighed. Typical. The Infantry was given the task to fulfill.

Lieutenant Paul Bryson reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The officer included all three section commanders and weapons detachment commander in his following text. His men wouldn't be happy. But then again, neither was he.

"Gather your men. We need to talk."

TORONTO, ONTARIO - CANADA
CARVER RESIDENCE
SEPTEMBER 17th, 2017
TIME - 1132

1st BATTALION, ROYAL CANADIAN REGIMENT
BRAVO COMPANY
1st PLATOON
2 SECTION
PTE CARVER

"Where are you going?"

"...I uhh...I'm being asked not to say." Jack sighed. He had not been home for ten minutes before playing twenty questions with his worried mother.

"What? Well how long are you going to be gone?!"

"I don't know, mom." Regretfully, this was the truth.

"Well, when are you leaving?!" Understandably, his mother was confused, upset and scared for her sons wellbeing.

"Two days."

"That's ridiculous! Jack you can't-"

"Hon," Jack's father, who had been silent for a majority of the time finally broke his silence. He put a hand on the woman's thigh and continued. "We knew this was a very real possibility when Jack enlisted. He's a young man who can make his own decisions, and well, this result comes with the decision he made."

"You can't be okay with this, Desmond...He's our son!"

"I'm not saying I like it...But we have to accept it."

"Thanks, dad." While he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving his family for an uncertain period of time in uncharted territory, he did appreciate the trust his father had for him.

His father nodded to him, further displaying his respect for the young soldier.

Jack's mother went silent for a few moments. She was not okay with it. However, she wasn't in a position to stop it. So rather than dread and clash about it, she opted to make the best use of their little time.

"...Well I expect you to come home in one piece young man…"

"Yes ma'am." Jack smirked.

"Right." His mother turned away to hide her coming emotions. "I'll get some snacks that you like, Jack. I'll also go get your brother, he'll want to see you before you go…"

"Thanks, mom, you're the best."

Jack had watched her retreat to the safety of the upper floor before he sank into a chair in the living room.

"This isn't some on or reassurance op, is it, kiddo?" Desmond Carver, a former Major in PPCLI had extensive knowledge of the Canadian Forces, superior to that of Master Corporal Farren or anyone that Jack currently served with. So the highly classified nature of Jack's mission came off as suspicious considering his son was not Special Forces.

"No, I don't think so." Jack shrugged and ran his hand through his hair.

"Expecting trouble?" Desmond sat across from his son.

"You know me, dad. Wherever I go, trouble always seems to find me."

Desmond stared into space for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Jack," He looked up. "You're trained for this. Whatever it is you're gonna be doing, I'm confident in your abilities. Not just as your father, but as a soldier."

Jack's eyes trailed up from the carpet to his father.

"Just remember your training. Stick close to your troops and you'll make it."

"I will, dad." Jack nodded.

"Now go on, I bet your brother is gonna want to see you."

Jack pushed himself out of the seat and raised his hand in a mock salute to his father. His father jokingly returned the gesture.

"Oh, one more thing, Jack."

Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"What's up?"

"When you're in the thick of it, when you're tired, when you're hurt...Never take the easy way out. Always do what's right."

Jack pondered the statement, analyzing it deeply. Evidently this was based off an experience his father must have had, which meant it had merit.

"I will, dad."

"I know you will, it's the person you are. Your friends, your brother, your mother, they'll pretend to understand what men like you and I go through and do. But only we know, Jack. You're a part of the special few."

Jack was about to respond before he was cut off.

"Jack!" A high-pitched voice filled the room while little footsteps could be heard stomping down the stairs.

Jack turned to see his younger brother, Alex, barreling down the stairs, coughing the whole way down.

"Heya, Soldier!" He crouched down to match the seven-year-olds height.

The young boy halted in front of the Canadian Soldier and gave the best salute he could muster. In return, Jack stood tall and returned the gesture.

"I've been working on the salute!" The boy gloated before coughing again.

"I can tell! You're looking more and more like a soldier every day, bud. We'll need to get you a uniform soon, wouldn't you agree, mom?" Jack's mother walked in with a bowl of chips and other assorted snacks.

"Yes, of course!" She smiled and placed the bowl down. The moment the dish made contact with the table, Desmond and Alex dug in while Jack fought a frown.

"I'm uhh...Gonna grab a glass of water…" Jack cleared his throat.

Jack walked into the kitchen and fought the urge to raid his parent's liquor cabinet, and down the first bottle he spotted. He sighed and used his better judgment to instead grab a glass and do what he said he'd do; get a drink of water. Jack grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge and shakily poured his glass before resting his hands on the counter.

"Jack? Are you okay?" His mother peered into the kitchen, spotting the soldier hunched over.

"Yeah. I'll be out in a second."

"What's wrong?" She rushed in, putting a hand on her son's shoulder.

"He's getting worse, isn't he?" Jack stared at the wall, his voice dreary.

His mother sighed and rubbed Jack's shoulder. "Chemotherapy isn't working…"

"Damn it…" Jack shook his head.

"He misses you when you're gone, you know. He idolizes you. They're both proud of you. I am too."

Jack found himself gazing at his father, entertaining his sick little brother.

"He's not going to take you leaving again very well."

"If it were my choice I wouldn't be leaving. I'd be here with you guys."

"I know, son. Just…" She hugged him. "Come back alive. We're already going to lose one…"

"You don't know that." Jack tensed up.

"Right." Jack's mom feigned agreeing with him, having come to terms with the possibility a while ago, though it provided no comfort at all. "Come on, let's spend what little time we have with the family."

Jack nodded and followed his mother into the living room again, putting on a smile for his brother.

TWO DAYS LATER - CARVER RESIDENCE

Private Jack Carver stood on his porch, surrounded by his family. His heart was beating, his mind was racing. A mixture of fear and excitement were concocted into an odd slew of thoughts. He was about to embark on an operation into unknown territory with a likely hostile indigenous population. It was no small feat for a soldier his age and skill level or any soldier for that matter.

Minutes passed and soon, a Honda Civic pulled up in front of the Carver residence. A lone man stepped out of the driver's seat. The man was too dressed in a Canadian Forces uniform. He opened the trunk of his vehicle where another duffle bag was already waiting. The soldier approached the family.

"You ready, kid?" Master Corporal Farren asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Master Corporal."

Jack's father stepped forward, extending his hand once noticing the Master Corporals name tape.

"Master Corporal Farren. A pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a lot about you." The man said with a smile.

Farren clicked his heels together and saluted the man. "And I've heard a lot about you, sir." He then shook his hand. "I have many friends in PPCLI, you're a good man, Major Carver. Your son speaks highly of you as well, sir."

Desmond waved his hands. "Thank you, Master Corporal. But I'm hardly an officer anymore."

"It's a sign of respect, sir. One that you've earned."

"Heh, Jack was right." Desmond put a hand on his son's shoulder. "He will be in good hands."

"Please, bring my son back." Desmond's wife pleaded.

"I'll bring your son back, Ma'am. I promise." The man looked her in the eyes and nodded.

To Farren's surprise, a small bald child emerged between Major Carver and his wife. He ran up and hugged Jack's leg.

"Are you and Jack gonna save the world?" The boy asked, looking up at Farren.

George Farren crouched down and smiled. "You bet we are, kiddo."

The boy's pale face lit up. He looked up to Jack, who was smiling back.

"I don't want to cut it short, Carver. But we've got to get going."

"Right." Jack sighed.

"Here, you do your thing, I'll get your duffle to the car." Farren took the olive drab cargo bag off of Jack's shoulder and marched it down to the Civic before throwing it in the trunk with his own duffle bag.

Jack's father wrapped his arms around his son and pat him on the back.

"Be safe and be strong, Jack." He smiled at him, seeing a lot of himself in his young son.

"You got it, Dad. I'll make you proud."

"You already do. Every single day, my boy. Give em' hell, kid."

The two warriors had embraced for another moment before Jack moved onto his mother. She was already wiping tears from her eyes, similarly to the day Jack had enlisted and embarked on basic military qualification in Quebec.

"Damn it, Jack. You're making me cry, and you haven't even left yet!"

"Sorry, I hear I have that effect on people." Jack shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood.

His mother hit him on the arm with a tear stricken grin. "Smart ass…" She hugged him tight, fearing for her son's safety. "Stay safe, Jack. Come home."

"Always." Jack responded, returning the hug.

Once they had finished, Jack knelt down to meet his little brother face to face. While Alex was young and could not quite comprehend the nature of Jack's mission and a threat to his life, he could tell his big brother and idol would be gone for a while.

"Gonna miss you, Soldier." Jack muttered.

"I'll miss you too, Jack." The boy frowned.

"I've got something for you." Jack's hand went into his cargo pocket, rummaging through a few items until his closed fist returned. He opened his palm in front of his brother, revealing a metal white, gold, and red insignia. The top had a royal crown, below, crossed Lee Enfield rifles and a tri-maple leaf. The Latin word 'Ducimus' were displayed on a golden banner below the rifles. The Latin word Ducimus translated to English as "we lead."

"This is the logo of the Royal Canadian Infantry Corps," Jack explained. "Infantry soldiers are the first troops on the ground. We help people, fight the evil people and protect the world."

Alex looked in wonder at the badge.

"You'd wear this on your beret. This would show you belong to the toughest troops in the Canadian Army."

Jack no longer donned the broad Infantry Corps badge and instead wore the Royal Canadian Regiment's cap badge ever since joining the regiment.

"I want you to have this. I kept it around as good luck charm. But only the toughest soldiers get this, and you're way tougher than me." Jack pinned it to Alex's shirt.

Alex was practically bouncing in his shoes with excitement. "Thanks, Jack!"

"You're welcome, Soldier. You keep that on you, okay? It makes you strong."

Alex hugged his older brother. Jack gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around his little brother, knowing full well there was a possibility this could be the last time they'd ever see each other. Both brothers had a threat of death coming for them, but only Jack could fight his with weaponry.

Master Corporal Farren stood at the car, looking on in genuine admiration for the soldier. He had made the right choice in choosing to mentor the kid.

Jack stood up and began to walk down the path from his porch to Farren's vehicle. He stopped once he opened the passenger door. He turned around, seeing his family wave and yelling goodbyes. He smiled and waved, fighting his emotions that wanted him to cry or have second thoughts about the mission.

There was no backing down. They had a job to do. The missing scientists and security team all had families waiting for them back home, and Jack was going to get them back.

Carver climbed into the car and shut the door, removing his beret once he did. Farren closed his door and started the car. Soon, Jack's family and home were out of sight, even in the rear view mirror. Jack sighed and slumped into his seat while rubbing his face with his palms.

"Thanks for the ride, Master Corporal. Hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"No worries, heading to Pearson airport anyway, might as well pick you up."

A few minutes of silence passed in the vehicle. Jack was still down about leaving his family behind, and Farren was understandably nerve racked about taking command of a section on an operation.

"What you did back there." Farren started, breaking the silence. "You're a good man, Carver."

Jack's hands fell to his sides as he looked at the driver. "...Thank you, Master Corporal."

"You're welcome, kid." Farren took one hand off the steering wheel and lightly hit Jack on the shoulder. "You can drop the 'Master Corporal' stuff when higher ups aren't around by the way. You're in my section. I'm trusting you with my life, and you're trusting me with yours. We can't rightly worry about the fight if we're worrying about addressing people by rank, now are we?

"...I guess not Mas-...yeah that's gonna take some getting used to."

"Understandable. But I can live with that. From what I've seen in the field you're a good soldier, and from the way you behave and interact you've got good character. That's a rare combination, Jack Carver."

Jack was surprised how closely the Master Corporal had been observing him. However, it slightly stroked his ego hearing such positive things. He wouldn't get cocky, but, it was good to know he was doing his job right.

"Now we've got a while to go before we get to the airport. Get some shut eye, Carver."

"Yeah I'll make use of that tip of yours." Jack murmured before resting his head against the window and closing his eyes.

FOUR HOURS LATER - TORONTO PEARSON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Carver and Farren took their seats on the plane after a hefty discussion with Customs regarding the contents of their duffle bags. While they had no weaponry, it was difficult to explain why they had body armor, helmets, tactical vests and other such military equipment. However, once the Military ID came out, the soldiers were able to board.

The plane they boarded was smaller in nature, and very few passengers boarded.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Southampton Island in Nunavut. Small, near the bay, perfect to launch a battlegroup from." Farren whispered while eyeing the passengers. Trained paranoia.

"Oh great...the cold…" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, kid. We won't be there long I'm sure." Farren chuckled, sitting back in his chair. "We're kitting up, getting weapons, getting ammunition and launching. Higher ups want to get going quickly."

"Getting right to it then." Jack shrugged.

"Yeah, guess so." Farren reached into his bag and pulled out a book, turning the pages until he reached his book mark.

Jack lounged in his seat and searched for his headphones in his pocket. Once he found them, he put them in his ears and rested his head against the wall of the plane, waiting for the moment they'd board their ship and head to battle.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER - SOUTHAMPTON ISLAND (NUNAVUT)

Farren was first to step out of the plane. He shivered the moment he did and noticed his breath in the cold.

"I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life." Jack muttered when he waddled out of the plane into the cold air. "I hate this already."

"Agreed, let's find where we've got to go so we can get the Hell outta here."

Jack and Farren looked around. Hundreds of soldiers occupied the area, all completing different tasks. Multiple infantry soldiers like themselves had been running around with their gear searching for their respective spots while support staff filled trucks and other vehicles with gas. Various Milcots raced around the facility, carrying supplies, ammunition, and soldiers to their destinations.

Without a clue of where to go, the two men approached a lone soldier dressed in cold weather gear at the end of the runway. When the two got closer, they realized the man was a captain. They halted, and both saluted the officer.

The Captain returned the salute. "Thank you. Who are you two with?" The officer asked, reaching into his pocket, retrieving a note pad.

"Bravo company, 1st Platoon, sir!" Farren yelled over the sound of their plane taking off.

The officer scanned his page. "Right! Okay troops, you two are going to follow this service road all the trucks are using! You're gonna stop at the makeshift armory which you can't miss, grab your weapons and flag a Milcot, it'll get you where you need to go!" The captain pointed to the road just a couple meters away from them.

"Roger that, sir! Thanks!"

"Good luck, boys!"

Jack followed Farren onto the road where they followed the abundance of trucks to a mass gathering of men in several lines. A section of Infantry left the crowd, armed to the teeth with C9 Light Machine Guns, C7's and sidearms. The armory had divided the lines by company and subsequently; platoons, meaning Jack and Farren were lucky being in the first platoon.

"Well, at least we won't be waiting very long." Jack joked.

They joined the line with the few remaining soldiers of Bravo Company that hadn't yet received their weaponry. Farren stuffed the empty magazines he got into his cargo pockets and slung his C7A2 Assault Rifle, waiting for Jack to get his own personal weapon. Jack's C7A2 with an under-slung M203 was handed to him by the Company Quartermaster. Like Farren before him, he was given empty magazines to later fill with ammunition. He placed them in his pocket and followed Farren, who was searching for a Milcot.

"Hey, Corporal!" Farren shouted to a corporal who was leaning against the hood of a parked Milcot near the Armory.

The driver's head shot up, searching for the source of the call. He found Farren and stood tall. "Need a lift?" He asked.

"If you don't mind."

"Sure thing. Hop in, Master Corporal. The kid coming too?" The Corporal opened the passenger door for Farren while Jack scurried over, carrying his grenade launcher and rifle.

"Yeah, he's with me."

"Roger. Alright, Private, let's go." He waved his hand, causing Jack to speed up and jump into the back seat.

"You know where Bravo Company, 1st Platoon is set up?" Farren asked while doing up his seat belt.

The corporal grabbed a map that was resting on the dashboard of the Milcot. The map displayed the small island and had clearly defined the temporary shelters set up by the DND for the operation. He scanned it for a brief moment, searching for Farren's desired location.

"Yeah, I got it." The corporal started the car and drove off, leaving the armory behind.

In time the Milcot came to a halt in front of a rather small portable building.

"Thanks for the lift." Farren patted the Corporal on the shoulder and climbed out of the vehicle.

"No worries. Good luck, guys."

"Thanks, Corporal." Jack exited the vehicle and walked to the door next to Farren who had halted in front of it.

Farren opened the door and came to attention. "Permission to enter?"

Lieutenant Bryson looked up from his gear to see Master Corporal Farren and Private Carver standing at the door. "Come on in. With you two accounted for I think we've got everybody."

"Roger that sir. I'll get kitted up, and I'll get a headcount to you asap, Sir." Farren and Jack found a secluded corner in the already crowded room and threw down their duffle bags. "Ditch button up shirts Carver, swap to battle rattle." Farren ordered.

"Sure thing." Jack complied while opening his duffle bag.

"Nice of you to join us, Jack!" Lewis, who was fully geared up, hit his partner on the shoulder.

"You know I'd never miss a party, Jerome!"

The first item he withdrew was his combat shirt. The shirt in design was very similar to the United States Marine Corps' FROG shirt. The shirts sleeves were made of the same material of the traditional uniform while the torso area was made of an almost under armor like material. In design, this was intended to keep the wearer cooler and more comfortable while wearing body armor and load bearing equipment as it was much more breathable than the traditional tunic. On the biceps of the shirt, velcro tabs would allow soldiers to put name tapes, flags, blood type patches and other such relevant information while also acting as shoulder pockets.

Jack undid the buttons to his traditional CADPAT tunic and removed it from his body before donning the combat shirt. While at the moment, he was cold, the shirt would prove to be extremely helpful in hotter conditions.

Next, Jack grabbed his body armor, the Canadian Forces fragmentation vest. The vest was mainly produced to stop fragmentation from grenades and explosives from striking the user's torso, however in recent years, it has gained two ballistic plates in the front and the back of the vest to protect the wearer from ballistic weapons. Carver fastened it to his chest, and it already began to warm his body a little.

Followed by his body armor was his tactical vest. The vest standard issue to the Canadian Forces would allow the soldier to carry multiple magazines for his primary weapon as well as other useful equipment into battle. Things such as an Individual First Aid Kit, or IFAK for short, maps, compasses, grenades, bayonet carrier and more. Jack put the vest on over his body armor and zipped it up around himself.

Carver unzipped a pouch on his tactical vest, fetching his tan Mechanix M-Pact gloves. His bare hands now donned the comfortable and durable gloves that got him through his Infantry course.

A lone olive drab knee pad was fastened to his right knee for crouched shooting while permitting mobility in the other leg. By only using one pad, it also avoided overweighing the soldier.

Now only two items remained. Jack placed the tinted lenses of his Ballistic Eye Wear on his face, darkening the world around him once they covered his eyes. The final item was his helmet. He chose not to don it yet. However, he fastened the helmet strap to a piece of webbing on his tactical vest so he did not have to carry it.

When Jack looked up, Farren was strapping his helmet to his head and ready to go just like him.

"Owens, we got everybody?"

Corporal Owens, who had been speaking with three other soldiers looked up. "You and Carver were the last two we needed, boss. 2 Section is ready to roll."

"Copy that. Grab some ammo cans everybody, something tells me we'll be moving out soon."

While soldiers from 2 Section, Jack included, grabbed as many ammo cans as they could, Farren marched his way over to the Platoon commander.

"Sir."

"George. You got everybody?"

"Yeah. My 2IC took a count while waiting for my last soldier and me to arrive. 2 Section is ready and waiting, sir."

"Good. Weapons det and the other two sections are prepped. Looks like we're green…" The young Lieutenant looked nervous, of that, Farren was certain.

"Platoon, on me!" Bryson yelled out, gaining the attention of all three sections. They gathered around the Platoon commander.

"Alright, boys and girls. This is it. We're green. This means we're going to go board that Goliath of a ship and go through the anomaly. I can't speak to what is on the other side. And I can't say it'll be easy. But I've seen each of you excel in training, and you've impressed me to the core. You embody what the Canadian Forces Infantry has to offer; highly skilled, highly trained and dedicated warriors. I have faith that you will act with bravery and selflessness like you always do. Good luck, everyone." Bryson himself came to attention and saluted his men.

All members of the platoon saluted their commander. "Thank you, sir!" A collective response echoed in the room.

"Let's get moving and show everyone else how it's done."

The Platoon rushed out of the building, joining the remainder of Bravo company in the sea of soldiers attempting to board the HMCS Sir Isaac Brock. Hundreds of men lined the ramp, leading onto the Brock's portside bulkheads. RHIBS and LAV's were being loaded into the ships aft amphibious stern gate while the troops flooded the ship.

"Think there will be hot girls on the other side?" Jerome asked.

"Shut the Hell up, Lewis." Farren rolled his eyes.

Jack laughed and punched his friend on the shoulder.

"What?! I'm genuinely interested!"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's your scientific interest motivating your dumb questions, buddy."

"ID." An MP guarding the top of the ramp blocked the soldiers from entering without showing credentials.

"Fun police, look out." Farren whispered among his section, earning a few chuckles.

Despite the jokes, the men pulled out their ID cards and displayed them to the officer before boarding the cramped naval ship. The troops began to feel packed like sardines while navigating the corridors of the ship, searching for their bunks. The men were congregated into small barrack style rooms that could house four people at a time with a bunk bed on either side of the room. Jack, Jerome, Owens and Farren were isolated to a room together.

"Huh...Cozy…" Owens muttered sarcastically. He threw his duffle bag down at the rear of the room and quickly climbed into a bunk to get out of the way for the three remaining men.

"No place like home." Farren added to the sarcasm before doing the same as Owens.

"Join the army they said, see the world they said…" Jerome mumbled and placed his weapon on his bunk, claiming the top bunk on the left side of the room.

Jack was last to step in and put his duffle bag neatly with the other three. "I brought some ammo cans, we can start loading mags when you're ready."

"Good. Let's gather the section and get to work." Farren lept off his bunk and followed Jack out of the room.

While they traversed the halls, the ship wide communication system blared.

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Today, we venture into unknown territory without any knowledge of what lies beyond. We said goodbye to family, friends, and sadly for some of us, it may be the last time. But is as accustomed to this army, we do not back down from a fight that has been perceived to be difficult. Our government choose us because we are the best Canada has to offer and by extension the best chance those brave men and women on the other side of that anomaly have at a safe return home. I will not lie. The road ahead will be difficult and some of you will have a hard time comprehending, and coping with our current predicament. But remember this: The men who stormed Vimy Ridge knew the risks of their action and marched into the fray, forging the very country we now have the honour of serving. Then those same men, less than a decade later returned to free the people of Europe from tyrannical socialist control. And that's our job, should it be boiled down to one, simple word; freedom. The very building block of our great democracy. A principle worth fighting, and bleeding for. This principle of liberty is one our ancestors were called upon to defend, and now we too, must make similar sacrifices in the days, weeks and maybe even months ahead. But I believe. I believe that we were born for this very moment, this expedition to the fringes of what we know and understand. When we reach the other side of that anomaly, any resistance we face will hear the roar of the Canadian Armed Forces and the stealing resolve of every man and woman on this vessel. And most of all any resistance we face, we will face, as a united force. God speed to each and every one of you, and God save the Queen."

"Solid speech captain, it's a nice sentiment for the troops" Officer Beckett added as she approached her station.

"Let's hope that morale keeps." Dietz put away the microphone and walked back to his chair. He looked starboard, seeing the anomaly in its entirety. "Helm give half power then turn us 90 degrees starboard. Get us head on with that portal."

The ship moaned as the engines shot power to the golden yellow propellers under the ship's superstructure. The ship move horizontally out of port until she had enough room to turn a perfect 90 degrees. As the ship grew closer to the contact entrance, Dietz once again called a general, ship wide call.

"All hands, brace for contact. Here we go."

A/N: That concludes chapter one. Please feel free to leave a review to let us know what you thought. Also, if you found this first chapter to be way too confusing in terms of military jargon, we've prepared a glossary of terms at the bottom of this chapter that will hopefully remedy and confusion. If it doesn't help, please let us know and we'll be sure to add something or better explain a pre-listed topic.

Once again, massive thanks to my co-writer Starwarsmast3r, who helped greatly in terms of the Naval parts and created Captain Dietz and his crew. Please check him out and read his stuff, it's pretty great.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS:

RCR- The Royal Canadian Regiment; a Regular Force Infantry Regiment of the Canadian Army.

BATTALION- An organization of rifle companies and a support company.

COMPANY- An organization of three rifle platoons and a support platoon

PLATOON- An organization of three rifle sections and a heavy weapons detachment

SECTION- A group of 8-10 Infantry soldiers (Commonly mistaken for "Squad")

FIRE TEAM- A team of 2 soldiers

WEAPONS DET- Short for Weapons Detachment, which has the heavy weapons of the typical Infantry platoon.

IC- Broad term for an individual who is the Commander or 'In Command' (Examples: Section IC, Platoon IC, Company IC)

2IC- Broad term for an individual who is 'Second in Command' (Examples: Section 2IC, Platoon 2IC, Company 2IC)

BOW- Front of a boat

CADPAT- Canadian Disruptive Pattern

CDS- Chief of the Defence Staff

CIC- Combat Information Center

CVN- Hull Classification symbol. "C" means aircraft carrier, "V" indicates fixed wing (vice rotating wings as on helicopters), and "N" stands for nuclear powered. So CVN means "aircraft carrier, fixed wing, nuclear powered". 001 represents the ships Identification number to other NATO vessels on sonar.

C.O- Commanding Officer of the vessel. Commonly referred to as "Captain" although rarely does a C.O hold such a rank. Unless an officer aboard holds the rank of Captain than the crew is free to call his/her C.O the captain

X.O- Second in Command of the Vessel

FANTAIL- Rear gangway system that spans the entire vessel

FLANK SPEED- Flank speed is a nautical term referring to a ship's true maximum speed, but it is not equivalent to the term full speed ahead. Usually, flank speed is reserved for situations in which a ship finds itself in imminent danger.

HELM/HELMSMAN- Junior officer in command of steering the vessel while under the command of a senior officer. Helmsman is bound to follow the orders of these officers even if it threatens the safety of the ship and cannot make judgment calls on behalf of officers.

HMCS- Her Majesty's Canadian Ship.

KNOT- Unit of speed that represents one nautical mile. Equivalent to 1.8 km or 1.1 miles.

MILCOT- Military truck

NAVIGATION/ NAVIGATION OFFICER- Typically the third highest ranking member of the command crew and is in charge of updating the C.O or X.O with relevant navigation data and updates from the ship's CIC, flight control and listening stations.

OOW- Officer of the Watch. Acts as a temporary commanding officer if the X.O or C.O is not present on the bridge.

PTE- Short form for Private

CPL- Short form for Corporal

Mcpl- Short form for Master Corporal

SGT- Short form for Sergeant

LT- Short form for Lieutenant

PM- Prime Minister of Canada

PORT- Left-hand side of the ship

REVOLUTION LIMITERS & ENGINE SAFETIES- Safety protocols to protect the engines from long term damage due to overworking. Such protocols can be temporarily overridden to increase the speed of a vessel when receiving resistance from the sea or to decrease the distance to a target.

RHIB- Rigged Hulled Inflatable Boat. Fits 8-12 people including a driver and an optional gunner on the bow

LAV- Light Armored Vehicle

QUIET ORDERS- Systematic orders to reduce the effects of sonar upon a target by reducing the amount of noise and visual identification markers on the surface.

STARBOARD- Right-hand side of the ship

STERN- Back of a ship

C7A2- Standard Issue Rifle to the Canadian Armed Forces. 5.56x45mm round. Similar to the US Military's M16

C8- Carbine variant of the C7A2. Similar to the US Military's M4 Carbine.

M203- Grenade Launcher capable of being under mounted to the C7A2. 40mm Grenade. (Forty Mike Mike stands for 40mm)

C9A2 LMG- Canadian Forces Light Machine Gun. Remarkably similar to the US military's M249