It all goes well until it doesn’t.
And when it doesn’t, be ready to fuck shit up, or the shit will fuck you up.
-Wise, old words.
PoV: Alpha. Going to do 2 povs for this, Alpha and the slaughtered.
Finally, after 3 weeks, 2 days, 19 hours, 28 minutes, and 48.3 seconds, the frigate, which we so helpfully named ‘the genocide of the stars’, arrived in the nearest inhabited system. System Ypre 489, at least that’s what it was called in the nav database. Seeing a few assorted military ships in system, I geared up for boarding action. No flamethrower, as flames need oxygen to sustain, and vacuum is not oxygen. 20mm cannon all the way, with high explosive white phosphorus cored shells, and a coating of tungsten.
Nanites really are something.
”Alpha, please make your way to dock 2, and enter the first dropship on the left. Thank you.” Came over the PA. “I’ve managed to contact some natives to help overthrow their government, which keep them as debt slaves. So please don’t genocide the natives. The oppressors look like this:” System continued, while broadcasting a sheep-like xeno in front of me on the holo projectors.
”A fucking sheep. Are you kidding me? Some mutton in kegs looking motherfucker oppressed these? These tiger aliens? You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re serious? Their species name is Baaaarn’yard? What the actual fuck? How…?” I exclaimed, shocked.
”You see, they’ve genetically edited the Ultarian species to be herbivores, as well as docile, having almost no will of their own, bred to be slaves.” System remarked.
”Awww hail no. If there actually is a species that deserves genocide it’s these fuckwits! Na na na na, pieces of shit! It’s personal now.” I raged, hating slavery just like any good earthling would.
(Sure, some sci fi says Terran or human, but the sci fi movies I’ve watched always said earthling or human, and earthling sounds better to me. Your oponion? No, not in, on. It’s onion, not inion after all. No one says ‘Damn I love these inion rings’.)
As I trundled to dock 2, my anger cooled. These fuckers would pay.
”System, you got the ship under control?” I asked.
”Yes, but I do not understand why exactly you decided to replace the plasma and laser weaponry with primitive ‘rail guns’” System protested. “Plasma is superior!”
”Just trust me in his one. All this sci di bullshit is fine, but using pussy weapons is where I draw the line. No proper being with a shred of self respect doesn’t use projectiles. Tell me, do lasers and plasma fizz out eventually?” I calmly lectured.
”Yes, as otherwise they might kill some harml-…”
“Exactly. Even missed shots can still genocide, and putting a fusion core in the shell will maximise damage.”
“Holy shit, why didn’t I think of that?” System gasped, a brilliant revelation hitting her.
“Now, I’m in the shuttle, front towards enemy, as the claymore said best.”
”Gotcha, launching in 3, 2, 1, liftoff.”
POV: PDF of to be genocide planet.
”What do you mean there’s a frigate sized mass in the outskirts of the system? Have you tried hailing it?” The CO shouted.
”Yes sir, they’re not responding though, not even showing signs of picking it up! We’re contacting federation military for this at current stage!” The aide responded.
”No, tell the army all’s fine, false alarm, someone spilt their water onto their holo keyboard, besides, do you know how much the military would charge! We’d be in debt for generations! Better off alone, I say. And I say you do, yo-“
”Sir, a dropship just crashed into one of our dreadnoughts, and it’s reporting boarders, no check that, a single mechanical boarder slaughtering every barn’yard in its way!” Some random soldier called out.
”The boarder somehow managed to crack our 2 bit encryption, which should be impossible without a specialised team, even the 4 character passwords are no match sir!” Another hollered.
The dreadnought turned toward the other ships in position, and opened fire with plasma, lasers, and any other munitions there were, sending a barrage of death heading towards the others of the fleet, before another dropship left the dreadnought, before heading straight towards the command and control station.
”Holy shit, it broke through 8 bit 16 character passwords sir! No… it’s venting atm-“ we’re the last words the aide could get out, before unfortunately being flushed into vacuum without a vac suit on.
PoV: Narrator. (E.g, me.)
Suffice to say, I hope those xenospecies didn’t need heads no survive, as vacuum tends to blow your mind. Literally.
And as such, Alpha continued to beat the shit out of the space force with nothing more than good ‘ol dropships and cyber warfare. Bring weapons. Alpha did not. You bring, weapons did. Needs Alpha, must it acquire. As yoda once said.
As Alpha hacked through security with all the complexity of a unicellular organism, System was doing more… administrative things. Such as mining the asteroid belt, to get resources for the most likely stupid amount of respawns Alpha would need. Because plot armour the size of planets would make it boring, Alpha technically dies, and can die, but respawns.
PoV: Alpha.
As I watched the scene unfolding before me, I couldn’t help but laugh. Having big ass computer systems with passwords a monkey with a typewriter could solve first try, of the heaviest ship in the enemy navy ripping the lighter armed and armoured ones to shreds, (shreds you say?) before igniting all interior atmo bar the computer room, only venting that, ensuring all enemy combatants are dead. I looked at the slowly drifting junk in which had been 138 assorted cruisers, frigates and destroyers, and realised one critical detail. Z
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This was no army. It was militia. Perhaps the army had firewalls that felt like overboilt noodles to rip through, but one could only hope. Even civvie tech back on earth had better encryption, hell, an analogue watch back on Earth had better firewalls.
Sure, humanity didn’t evolve in a ruthless computer system, but they fucking made cyber security like they did. After all, better safe than sorry. Not like these cheap slaving fucks had any idea what quality meant, with a bunch of low powered pussy light shows for weapons, and calling the armour paper maché would be an insult to the durability of paper maché, fuck, air resistance at ground level feels harder to get though than this pathetic excuse of armour plating, do they even use steel?
After I calmed myself down from the stupidity of these aliens, I thought logically: self destruct all dreads and battleships that had crew alive on them, and get the rest to form up around each habitable planet, and moon. Distributing 2 dreads and two battleships per each aforementioned article, I kept roughly 5 dreads and 12 battleships in reserve for any enemy ships that may jump in system.
Fuck Alpha, you really went on a killing spree there huh? I ain’t even gonna try find the xp I should give you, and just level your ass up to 100.
Killed: A fuck ton of vessels, sentients, and other hardware.
XP rewarded: 10 to the power of 8 sideways. Yes it’s infity.
Level up! 48-100! Well done!
To get an evolution token, please genocide every inhabited planet in this system of barn’yards.
PoV: System.
As I scooped up matter by the asteroid belt, I couldn’t help but feel elated at the decimation of one of my captor’s fleet by my… accomplice. (Insert some romantic bullshit about ‘heart flutters’ or tingly feeling in my throat. You get the gist, because I’m not writing that. Romance stays purely to interludes and interlewds, thank me very much, so no romance in ‘vanilla’ sci fi book. Non negotiable.)
I looked at the battlefield, with cooling armour and debris scattered over millions of miles, and thought about how nice that debris would be for some matter for my nanites. They seemed to agree about overthrowing the barn’yards too, as they not only did shit they weren’t meant to do, but did it willingly as well. Instead of just getting rid of cancer cells, they served to kill anything unauthorised/ biological that came in the ship, while deconstructing and reconstructing shit. It’s amazing how many good things you can get by simply asking.
As a joke, I decided to fire a rail gun ‘slug’ as Alpha insisted they were, but what a naked snail had to do with a minor weapon of mass destruction, he simply said ‘I don’t know, that’s just what they’re called’, at the population centre that would be there when the slug hit. This will definite not impact Alpha in any way, like unfortunately get team killed. That could never happen. Never. Never ever…
PoV: Alpha
As I got into yet another dropship, yes I’m going through these things like a hot butter through knife, I stared ominously at the planet that kept getting closer. Genocide that kept getting closer. More chaos that kept getting closer.
The dropship broke through atmosphere, retro boosters turning the ground into matter slag, right in the middle of the city. Time for death to all barn’yards.
The door slammed open, and to the surprise of some pdf forces, opened fire immediately. Boom! 20mm shot through a barn’yards head, turning their brain into a sick slurry, before imbedding itself into an unknown xenospecies torso, ripping them in half in a shower of blood, guts and bone, spraying across the ferocrete road like an out-of control paint bucket, boom! Another round, hitting the kneecap due to no stabilising gear on an l3, blowing it apart with white and red substance coating the soldiers behind, before ricocheting off the street, into the barricade, exploding and tearing apart those behind with shrapnel, into a confetti-like substance. But they fire back. Plasma auto cannon peppered my thin armour, luckily reinforced with aerogel, barely able to keep the plasma off. One round gets through, slagging a portion of armour, before quickly cooling into a a paint less section. I quickly dealt with that, a round hitting the magazine and blowing the whole thing up, making the gunners rest in pieces and those nearby burn, like someone chucked alcohol onto a raging inferno, the screams and shouts filling the air. Another shot, narrowly missing the barrel and slagging the mantlet, enemy tank comes round the corner, I drive over the few remaining living enemies, no remorse for it is either I or them, and I would much prefer them, squelching then screaming, before silence coming from my audio sensors, I drive quickly behind the enemy tank. The enemy tank looks sleek, elegant, like a wraith from halo, mashed with half of a turretless abrams, would be a shame if someone blew it up. My tiny body got air over the tank, scraping its barrel, which just shot at me, barely avoiding the few thousand degrees projectile it sent at me, the heat boiling my internal aerogel near the bottom, heat alarms popping up. I dismiss those as unimportant, for I am not dead and there has been no hull breech. My tracks may be fused to the wheels but that is fine, for they can still turn. I land behind the enemy tank, and quickly turn my gun to its engine block. I fire, explosive rounds eating at the outside armour, before finally getting to the engine. My explosive rounds light the already overheating engine up, causing the enemy to have one more spacecraft, the upper half having flown up due to ammo detonation, while the lower half utterly obliterated, with shrapnel being absorbed into my molten hull. My gun has been destroyed, but that is fine, as I switch to flamethrower mode. Who wants bbq? Cuz I’m all out of ketchup, and my sauce is napalm fuckers. The enemy attempts to flank me because the front half of my body is looking very much like an ice cream left out in the blazing sun for 48 seconds. Not fully molten, but looking like it would fall apart any second. No matter. I installed a rear flamethrower port. And sci fi bullshit make me not have any need of external fuel tanks. I open fire literally, and burn the unlocks sods who thought flanking a cornered AI was smart. Their screams and pleads for mercy and cries for family are music to my ears. Just like a proper genocide. I call down a MAC satellite behind me, where another tank tried sneaking up on me, just before they shoot, a streak of fire comes from the heavens and turns them into their component molecules. I shoot flamethower all sides while spinning in a little circle, the real fuel to my fire being the suffering of the enemy. I do not remorse for them, for they are the enemy, which exists only to be genocided. My murder spree is interrupted by a whooshing sound in the air then a bang!
Game over. Respawn at A.I frigate? Y/N
Y.
Fuck. That was… fun, (author here. Long ass block was to highlight the point of a short period of time and a fuck tom of genociding. It gets fun now. Real opponents, but a lot of lives, and it sets the stage for… next chapter. With… the things.) I thought, as I looked around my body with an external camera.
Again! Again! Again! Again! I almost squealed.
”Alpha, you died that quickly? 2 Fucking minutes! 2! 2 minutes on the ground!” System almost hollered.
”Well, I did land in the centre of the biggest city on the planet.” I replied, giving her an answer.
”… What. The. Actual. Fuck!” System raged.
”What?” I asked innocently
”If you keep dying that quick, I might not have enough matter to keep reviving you! 01000110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 01110011 00100000 01110011 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01000001 01101100 01110000 01101000 01100001 00100000” System replied in the best language.
”I see you’ve come around then? 01000010 01100101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101100 01100001 01101110 01100111 01110101 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101110“ I smugly acknowledged. (signature look of superiority)
End block.