The Erata Prime Incident

 

The year is 2184—more than six months into the Second Galactic War—and citizens across the galaxy are beginning to feel the first signs of war fatigue. Patriotism is waning, and morale is running low. Distant sectors untouched by the war, which have never seen aliens before, simply carry on with their lives, as do the sectors closest to Super Earth: not the capital itself, but not on the immediate battlefront either.

A century has passed since the First Galactic War. Managed Democracy is the only system humans have known within living memory; what came before is buried in antiquity, accessible only to privileged individuals with a permit from the Ministry of Truth. The average citizen lives in ignorance, their furthest exercise of agency limited to answering the Managed Democracy questionnaire.

Cases of dissidence have been recorded over these 100 years, of course, resulting in correctional sentences and executions on only one or two limited occasions—but never a mutiny or full-scale revolt.

The latest revolt gave rise to Cyberstan and the fusion of human and machine: Socialism incarnate, created to oppose Super Earth. Democracy emerged victorious. Yet some question this Democracy, even if only in shadowy whispers beyond Super Earth’s monitoring eye.

And here, thoughts of secession are born. Critical voices grow louder, doubt spreads—especially in times of war and crisis, when Super Earth’s focus is elsewhere and citizens long most for an alternative.

Arrests and routine questionings are occurring across the galaxy. One ideological group is the most radical, even branded potential terrorists by Super Earth, reopening wounds from the emergence of the Socialists a century ago that birthed the Cyborg abomination.

Their motto: “Vera Libertas”—True Liberty. An insult to Super Earth and Democracy itself, undermining the fundamental belief in freedom by branding it fake and claiming theirs is the real one.

This group of ideologues operated in Super Earth Sector 4—next to our very capital. They were arrested after their broadcast was traced to owners of digital media and even physical group meetings. The Ministry of Truth detained around 15 individuals during their third meetup and identified internet followers—at least 15,000 people—who pleaded innocent. SEAF members among them were relieved of duty or suspended for further questioning.

The number of individuals exposed to the message is far higher; one cannot account for word-of-mouth.

Suffice it to say, the message reached the minds of some Helldivers and high-command officers on the front lines. Fear of a coup remains low due to the Ministry of Truth’s early response.

Voel was a Space Cadet at the time, with two successful Helldives under his belt. Always the attentive, excellent soldier type, he was nevertheless deeply skeptical of Super Earth’s ways—his sense of justice and morality ran exceptionally high.

Coming from a far-flung sector, "the capital of the capital" planet of Humanity overwhelmed him. He wanted to absorb as much knowledge as possible as a new resident of Sector 2 and fresh Helldiver recruit. He had listened to the Vera Libertas broadcast only a few times, then did his own research on Managed Democracy—getting his hands on illegal book titles and materials, purely out of curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

When the crackdown of critics occurred, he, like many others, felt isolated and alienated by Super Earth. His next mission was imminent—no time for doubts or further research.

A day before the cryo-sleep transit to Erata Prime, Voel wandered the Super Destroyer and was summoned to the Democracy Officer’s cabin. The reason: delivering a medical clearance for the mission 24 hours in advance.

However, Officer Hellstein—a relic of the “old guard” whose mentors had fought in the First Galactic War—was absent, leaving the cabin unattended. The destroyer, SES Beacon of Liberty, happened to be one of Super Earth’s pride flagships of the Second Fleet. Voel seized the opportunity to dig through classified papers from past missions and internal communications, uncovering legacy documents about the Terminids, the Illuminate, and the Cyborgs, and at last some medical status records of deceased Helldivers. The latter showing numerous past soldiers birth place record: "X city name, Cryo Processing Facility".

A shocking revelation: Super Earth was never the victim. They used Terminid biomass for fuel, dissidents and Automatons for slavery, plus they unprovocatively invaded the otherwise peaceful Illuminate first. And most damning of them all: a clone army! So much for the sacred claim that every Helldiver is a proud volunteer—instead a significant percentage were grown, conditioned, or “reclaimed”: cannon fodder with fabricated patriotism! It all seems like a façade now, especially alongside the recent arrests of advocates of true democracy.

Yet the mission loomed. The Helldivers were due for cryo-sleep.

Voel did not go gently into that good night. His blood boiled even as the cryonics put his nervous system on sleep.

Mission briefing Objective: Routine surveying and activation of a broadcasting station linking the planet’s first settlers—engineers and scientists—with Super Earth. Intel: Two squads deployed. Terminid presence minimal. Beware sandstorms.

Voel's squad split into pairs to finish objectives faster. He and the squad leader headed to the broadcast terminal to align the frequency and upload the message. The other two handled trivial tasks while the second squad collected samples and conducted reconnaissance.

An intense sandstorm paused communications. The squad leader keyed the sequence into the terminal; Voel covered the position. No bugs in sight.

Squad Leader: “Insert the SSD into the terminal.” Voel: “Roger. Swap with me and cover my six—enemy patrol on the ridge.”

Once the squad leader switched position with him, Voel snapped, opened fire and killed the expedition leader.

Had anyone else in the sector heard the burst of a friendly Liberator? No time to wonder—time was slipping away.

Now it was Voel’s move: alter the SSD message and initiate a live broadcast to Super Earth. He had photographic evidence of the records from the Democracy Officer’s cabin.

He went for it.

Radio chatter: “We heard shots. Enemy contact? Should we converge, over?” Voel: “Solid copy. Squad leader’s tied up with the codes now. Rendezvous at extraction, over.”

Live broadcast active.

Voel: “Citizens of Super Earth—this is a Space Cadet who serves the people. YOU ARE LIVING A LIE. The President lies. The ministries lie. Part of us are indoctrinated clones! Look at these records and decide for yourselves.”

Technicians cut the feed after 50 seconds, yet the damage was done. Although the broadcast was technically limited to armed forces, scientists, and essential personnel, the transmission reached hundreds of thousands—if not millions—before it was killed.

Super Destroyer alerted. Democracy Officer notified.

Officer Hellstine: “Cadet Voel, what have you done?! What chaos has infected your mind? …You are branded a traitor. Surrender at the extraction point IMMEDIATELY—this is your last and only warning.”

Funny representation of Democracy Officer abuse

Voel headed to extraction, Terminids trailing him.

One and a half squads stood ready, sights fixed, firing firing warning shots as he approached

Second Squad Leader: “Drop your weapon, traitor.”

Voel cast two grenades near the Pelican yelling "VERA LIBERTAS!!". Chaos erupted. Terminids swarmed. Helldivers scrambled for cover.

A Hunter pounced and impaled one Diver killing him instantly.

Officer Hellstine: “Extract now. The Super Destroyer will handle the traitor. We will not sacrifice more sons of Super Earth.”

Five Helldivers crammed into a four-seat Pelican. One sustained fractures due to the latter being a four-seater model.

The remaining Terminids—and Voel—were obliterated as the Super Destroyer leveled the extraction zone.

A dark day for Super Earth and a blow to Managed Democracy: an event now known in high officials' circles as the Hellstein Files Incident.

Media sources: 1. Helldivers community, 2. Unknown