SURRENDER OR BE DESTROYED
It rang out across the solar system, picked up by every communications device, buzzing from every speaker even if the speaker was unpowered, even vibrating off of any flat surface.
The Lanaktallan that made up the remnants of the Military and Executor Fleet all heard the words, they heard the stress on the second word the most.
The Military Fleet was down to less than 4%. The Corporate Fleet was gone. The Executor Fleet was at 18% and falling.
There were two schools of thought regarding the offer.
One was simply: "The Great Herd cannot be denied!" followed by suicidal attacks where they screamed slogans and rhetoric to the Great Herd and threw themselves on the Terran guns.
The Second was: "Victory cannot be attained. To continue to attack wastes the lives of those that depend upon your decisions."
It started in random places. Ships stopping their fire, cutting their drives and reversing relative to the star until they came to a stop. Once they stopped being targeted, which only took seconds that lasted ever so long, they dropped their shields except for their debris shields.
Twenty-two percent sounds like very little. A little over 1/5th, slightly less than 1/4th.
When it involved tens of millions, hundreds of millions of ships, it was still millions.
It took time for the combat to peter out.
The War Stallions, the ones who had been forced to change, surrendered their commands to save the lives of their crews, many of whom were no longer able to appreciate their reprieve.
On the show-bridge of his flagship Legion stared at the attacking fleet. Two thirds of it still continued to attack, but the third that had stopped attacking he launching boarding crews where he nervously waited to dock with the ships hoping that it wasn't a trick.
The whole time it was a Case Omaha. Everything was being recalled.
He knew it was going to happen again. It had happened hours? Days? ago, but Legion knew it would happen again.
When it did he flinched.
The enraged roar echoed throughout the TerraSol System.
I JUST WANT LEFT ALONE!
"Locate him. Scan for his entry point," Legion ordered.
"Yes, sir," Legion answered, turning to his instruments.
"A Lanaktallan ship is fleeing Io. There's an energy surge on the planetoid's surface," Legion stated.
"Identification?" Legion asked.
"An Immortal," Legion said, looking up from his scanning instruments.
"Guanya," Legion breathed. "Not good."
"Deadspace transfer detected from the surface of Io," Legion said, staring at his instruments.
"Hellspace breach detected on Mars. Looks like Daxin," Legion told himself.
"Hellspace breach on Mercury, Legion of the Damned transponders," Legion said.
Legion nodded. "Concentrate on the ships. The more we disable the less the ground troops have to deal with."
He nodded to himself at his own orders and set to work.
The fight raged on.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
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"GLORY TO THE FIRST MAN TO DIE!" Colonel John Hoswitch shouted, pointing with his chainsword as his troops came flooding out of the mat-trans gates behind him.
Part of him despaired, knowing there was no Glory to be found.
Sometimes he thought that there would never be Glory.
He surged forward, the flashing of Lanaktallan plasma packets whipping by him, cracking against the rocky surface of Betrayed Mercury. The atmospheric membrane was still up, gravity was still nominal, the massive Wrath Forges were still online.
The Lanaktallan had made planetfall in force, nearly eight million Lanaktallan troops galloping from their massive troopships onto the surface of Mercury, their armor the only thing protecting them from the hellish heat of the tiny planet that was one of the primary manufacturing facilities of the Sol System. They had rushed forward, trying to get past the Terran military forces to assault the factories and hab-complexes.
The Legion of the Damned had gated in, pulled from the battlefield on far away Hesstla. Their weapons were still loaded, their nano-forges running hot, their armor cratered and blistered.
The Legion of the Damned looked around, looked up at the blazing sun, looked at the blasted, cratered, pitted surface of Betrayed Mercury where Lossglass still covered miles of terrain.
They paused.
The sight of the charging Lanaktallan is not what caused the pause, although the semi-functional War Stallions in the ranks believed that to be so.
It wasn't the hellish landscape of Mercury that made them pause.
Well, not exactly.
They had seen Mercury before. They had stood right in that location before, with their weapons in hand, they had been all that stood between good and evil.
On the face of Betrayed Mercury.
Colonel Hoswitch shook himself, lifting his pistol into the air as his cape snapped in the searing hot wind. He fired the pistol twice.
"KILL THE ENEMY, YOU FAITHLESS CURS!" he roared out.
The Lanaktallan, who had mistaken the Legion's pause as fear of the oncoming Great Herd, found themselves running face first into heavy firepower and began shooting back even as they trotted forward. The lemurs seemed to not have any fear, charging into gunfire even as they shot back.
Colonel Hoswitch looked down at an infantryman who's chest was a smoking mass of charred meat.
"On your feet, trooper," he snarled, kicking the infantryman's side with the toe of his boot.
The soldier, one Sergeant Mamboyd, just laid there, staring up at the sky with wide empty eyes.
"Trooper?" Hoswitch said, frowning. "Trooper?"
The wounds did not heal. The Legionnaire did not suddenly become wrapped in crimson smoke that would dissolve to reveal the troopers to be wholly healed.
Hoswitch felt something, something past the endless wrath and fury and agony and regret that had been his lot in life for over eight thousand years.
He looked at his men, who were rapidly digging in, their guns hammering, their lasers searing, their grenades shredding.
"THERE IS GLORY HERE, TROOPERS! FIGHT! FIGHT WHERE YOU ONCE REFUSED AND REGAIN YOUR HONOR!" Colonel Hoswitch roared out. "OUR REDEMPTION IS AT..."
The plasma packet managed to get through a gap in his personal shield and hit him in the neck, blowing apart his throat, baking and searing his spinal cord.
As he fell face forward into the warsteel sands of Betrayed Mercury he heard something new.
Not a recounting of his sins. Not memories of his Fall.
hush little Terran is all right now sleepy Terran tired Terran good Terran time for nappy Terran broodmommy will hold Terran its ok its all right you don't have to scream and fight its time to sleep where theres no pain your debt forgiven removed the stain hush little Terran is all right broodmommy will hold you snug and tight
Soft hands touched him as the light faded from his eyes.
He found Glory as a Man who died on the warsteel and iron sands of Betrayed Mercury.
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More and more Lanaktallan ships were surrendering. Ground forces, pounded into submission, began surrendering. The fleets attacking Hateful Mars had found that the third moon was no moon at all, but rather a massive orbital defense system that had unfolded to wrap the entire planet in four metal rings that were virtually covered with guns.
A few at first, then more and more, threw down their guns and raised up their four arms. As those ones were spared even more surrendered.
Most of them expected to be slaughtered enmasse by the Terrans who advanced upon them. Instead their weapons were confiscated, they were emergency medical treatment if they needed it, and moved to somewhere safe.
While the battles still raged in the system some Lanaktallan were already being inprocessed. Given medical care, being informed of their rights, being fed and housed.
It took time, it was slow, but the battle for TerraSol was coming to an end as more and more Lanaktallan surrendered to Terran forces.
It was coming to an end.
It took nearly two months for the last of the Great Herd Lost Ones to be taken down, but the Sixth Battle for Sol ended.
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The Hellspace rift occurred only a few feet above the ground and a figure out of legend and myth stepped out. A second later a heavy robotic looking quadruped jumped out of the Hellspace rift and landed on the ground.
It had been almost two months since he had been pulled from the battlefield on a small planet full of people who looked slightly like upright rabbits. Two solid months of combat on virtually every world in his home system.
He looked around, feeling the cool breeze in a way he had not felt it for thousands of years.
He raised his face to the sky, feeling the drops of summer's evening rain on the skin of his face, wetting his close cropped hair, running down the back of his neck.
--Home Daxin! Home!-- FIDO barked.