"Cloning Complete" This was the first thing LC607741673921285154921 heard as he opened his eyes. Infrared, Ultraviolet and what many call "visual" light burst into view as it began tactically observing it's surroundings.
"Clone" A Procii voice was heard as LC607741673921285154921 instantly snapped to attention by instinct.
"You are number 607-741-673-921-285-154-921, confirm"
"Yes"
"You are assigned to Elite ground combat, you will receive your equpment; You have also been granted the ability to make decisions"
"I understand"
"Obtain your equipment and prepare for ground combat"
"Yes Sir" LC607741673921285154921 replied as he began walking to the armory onboard the ship. An RH-9 Class Capital. LC passed by several groups of Fleryg in Utilitary Suits, clearly the permanant crew of this vessel.
"Combat Alert, Level 3"
Level 3, that means the ship is nearing it's target.
a minute later
The doors to the Armory opened up as LC607741673921285154921 walked through, his outer shell having hardened during the walk; He'd now be able to mount his combat suit.
"Combat Alert, Level 4"
Thankfully donning the Elite variant Combat Suit was easy, the final touches being the activation of it's integrated Disruptor Field reactor.
"Combat Alert, Level 8" Would be heard throughout the ship as it lurched, LC quickly initiating the Combat Suit's inertial control system, he began making his way over to the drop pods as a real time updater on the HUD said it was time.
-o-
The NH war fleet had just dropped out of Slipspace before they were instantly attacked by Cykor warships, entropy torpedoes already striking their targets as RH series ships were obliterated. The 300 strong RH-9 core to the fleet has already lost 12 of their numbers, a 13th on it's last legs as several Cykor destroyers relentlessly assaulted it.
An Ultraviolet light suddenly exploded into life as the dying RH-9 split apart and fractured. Almost 5,300 Fleryg lost with the ship's destruction.
-o-
LC had just reached the drop pod bay as the ship he was on began to enter orbit. LC approached a group of Fleryg who surrounded the assigned drop pod, no audible words were shared as they linked comms.
"Prepare for combat drop, 3 periods." Was the only thing LC607741673921285154921 had to speak as the squad of Fleryg Elites replied. "Understood" was all LC needed to hear before promptly strapping into the drop pod and patiently watching the countdown.
1 period, 50 instants
1 period, 30 instants
1 period, 10 instants
50 instants
30 instants
10 instants
9 instants
8 instants
7 instants
6 instants
5 instants
4 instants
3 instants
2 instants
1 instant
THWOOM
-o-
The NH war fleet has started to sustain heavy losses as it's 273 remaining RH-9s launched the first wave of drop pods, several Cykor destroyer fleets trying to intercept the several thousand strong drop pods. Streaks of fire and death rained onto the planet as hundreds of intercepted drop pods broke apart from Cykor Disruptors.
-o-
LC felt no fear nor rush of adrenaline as he calmly checked his gear, the DR-1811 he was assigned as well as his DP-1099 were both in pristine condition. The G-Forces experienced in this orbital drop would easily kill lesser beings, his Combat Suit's inertial dampeners keeping him stable and alive in spite of this.
Inferior warriors would be in awe of the sight of hundreds of NH warships doing battle with hundreds of Cykor war-vessels, LC607741673921285154921 is not one of them. He paid no attention to the massive space battle occuring outside as the drop pod began buring through the atmosphere of the planet; Plumes of fusion flame ejecting from the surface of the highly reinforced drop pod allowing it to evade anti-air fire.
"Landfall, 40 instants" was heard as the drop pod penetrated the cloud layer like a bullet through paper.
LC quickly processed all relevant telemetry being received through his Suit before calling "Assignments" to ensure proper combat effectivity.
"Receiving"
"Squad 882201-1 through 8"
"Affirmative"
"Landfall, 20 instants"
"Prepare combat, initiate Psio-link"
.
'Squad 882201 Psio-Link engaged' was heard through the minds of the 8 Fleryg soldiers in the pod. Time slowing to an unimaginable extent as they begin conversing, what would have taken minutes to explain to another taking barely a fraction of a second within the link.
Telemetry from each Suit colated and every detail extensively discussed and pored over.
'Landfall, 19 instants'
Squad 882201 begins to take active control of their drop pod, it's fusion thrusters increasing in power dramatically as it begins directly dodging Disruptor fire, the surrounding hundreds of pods following suit as they begin to strike the ground, the G-forces involved enough to completely pancake most forms of life.
The doors to Drop Pod 882201 explosively disconnected, flying off and crushing an unfortunate Cykor combat bot. The 8 Fleryg Soldiers quickly evacuate the useless drop pod, Disruptor Rifles discharging bolts which quickly burned completely through Cykor bots, the return fire splashing off of the far superior Fleryg Combat Suits. Several groups of RH-3 Strike craft fly overhead, bombing Cykor defenses to allow swarms of Fleryg to steamroll over.
'Move up, 23 Cykor hostiles ahead, 16.24 Iso distance.' Passed through the Psio-Link as the entire Squad reacted instantly to cover any blind spots, several Cykor Disruptor bolts struck 882201-3; The stricken Fleryg going down, his body disintegrating from a released highly corrosive gas.
'882201-3 Down, reclassify 1-7'
The group continued on, the dead Fleryg's combat suit erupting into nuclear fire to avoid capture of NH tech. LC quickly aimed towards a Cykor Warbot and mentally sent the fire command to his DR-1811; The hefty rifle discharging a crimson bolt of nuclear hatred which then found itself crossing the 14 meter gap within microseconds. The unfortunate warbot simply vaporized in a brilliant crimson-red light, it's thin Hypercomposite coating completely failed to prevent the equivilent of two kilograms of C4 detonating in it's chest. The Fleryg Soldier almost instantly shifting his target, the 6 kilogram Rifle swinging around to fire at another Warbot, the discharged Crimson hate-bolt annihilating another Cykor warbot. Cykor return fire failing to kill any of the remaining seven Fleryg.
'Hostile Count, 12 Warb-' The Psio-Link message was interrupted by a massive detonation on the horizon. NH Disruptor Beams spearing through the clouds like a hateful god's wrath on a sinful civilization. The resulting EMP disrupting primitive communications systems.
'Hostile Count, 12 Warbots, Glassing in effect.'
The Fleryg soldiers made no motion of shock or surprise at the Glassing, simply altering their Suit's scanners to adapt to the increased ambient radiation.
LC issued a command 'We are pushing forwards. 129 Iso distance.' The 7 Fleryg squad making joining up with the front consisting of millions of Fleryg soldiers, pushing into a wall of Cykor Warbots. The ash and dirt kicked up by the sheer firepower of the dual walls of guns colliding making visual observation impossible. 882201-5 is struck in the chest by several Disruptor Bolts, he falls to the ground in death, Combat Suit detonating like his late squadmate to prevent technology capture.
Three disruptor bolts whizz by LC's head, nearly decapitating the War-Slave. Regardless of his brush with death, he pushes on. Unfearing of the hell he was walking into. He targets a group of Cykor Warbots and fires several bolts, the bolts fly true and rid the universe of the scum that is that particular group of Cykor warbots. A group of RH-5 Fighters pass by overhead, only for one to be taken down by Cykor Warbot disruptor fire.
'882201-5 Down, reclassify 1-6'
The debris from the destroyed Corvette analogue RH-5 begins to make landfall, crushing large groups of unfortunate Fleryg, who made no attempt to avoid death. Serving the state from birth to death. As is to be Fleryg.
A massive Cykor warship descends from the heavens, it's weapons fire wiping thousands of Fleryg out of existance in seconds, all but one of the remaining RH-5s falling onto the massive wall of death and destruction. The sole surviving Fighter engages it's Spatial Fold drive as it jumps inside the Cykor warship, the resulting destruction resulting in a multi-megaton explosion that wipes out a massive portion of the front, descending thousands of Drop pods quickly replacing the millions of dead Fleryg in minutes as the Cykor Warbots continue to defend; Their numbers slowly decreasing as the relentless wall of mass-cloned supersoldiers.
LC's story ends here, he and his entire squad having been annihilated in the detonation. His death quick and sudden, his life short and filled with death.
The orbiting fleets continue to fight, the debris field from the battle making maneuvering difficult. This battle would continue for another hour before the Cykor fleet stops dead, their controlling Brains having been destroyed.
The entire battle for Indara lasted for 8 hours, 36,982,298 Fleryg died to obtain this world. Almost half of the invading NH fleet was destroyed, a debris field thick enough to prevent most space travel in orbit of the world created by the battle. This is just one of countless conflicts in the NH-Cykor war, billions of Fleryg dying daily to keep the Biological AI menace from ravaging the galaxy. This entire story was written to show the immense sacrifice of the Fleryg, an empire built upon the backs of countless mass produced slaves. It's wars fought by a species that cannot even know freedom.
This was a story to present the sacrifice of the Fleryg and maybe get people to respect them just a little bit more.
This is a Fleryg's sacrifice.
"Fleryg know no fear, for is their nature;
Fleryg know no hatred, for is their nature;
Fleryg know no freedom, for is their nature;
Fleryg live and die to serve the state; for is their nature"
- Overlord Tending Fate
