“People often point to Ru’udamo’o’s Purge and like to claim he exposed all the atrocities of the Lanaktallan have been brought to the light. They conveniently ignore that all he did was target those responsible for the war with humanity. We spent the past hundred million years treating the sapients of the galaxy as little more than intelligent livestock. There are countless secrets that time and the Executors have buried deeply; and the billions of Council loyalists hoping to bide their time until they can resurrect it would prefer to die than to allow our ancient crimes to be brought to the light. But, we’re the Curators of the Free Herd and what’s done in the dark will be brought to the light - whatever the cost.” - u/Manifest_Author, from "Sins of Empires"
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"I was surprised at how the Confederacy took it all in stride, every horrible thing that the Council had done for a hundred million years, and worked with us to reverse the damage rather than publicly, to use a metaphor, burning everyone involved at the stake in the public square. How their diplomats did not even blink when I brought them evidence of the crimes and how I had burned those crimes and those who committed them from the face of the universe.
"Then I researched the Terran's history.
"I understood, reading about what happened during the Iron Stars Cluster War, what happened before the Great Glassing, what happened during the Clownface Nebula War, the monstrous things that the Terrans had done to themselves and each other, that they were understanding because they had been willing to do it to themselves.
"It was there, I understood, that the Terran's capacity for empathy and compassion was the opposite side of the coin from their savagery and cruelty." excerpt from Standing in the Darkness, by Anonymous, Telkan Press, 14 PH.
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"There was an entire civil war inside of the Terran species for the future of the galaxy.
"And we all had no idea that, for a moment, the fate of the entire galaxy depended on a handful of people." excerpt from I Have Ridden the Hasselhoff, General Sma'akamo'o.
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The second wave was moving around the wreckage that the Joan and Vuxten had made out of the first wave. As far as Vuxten could tell, not a single vehicle or armored trooper had gotten by the Joan or Vuxten. The Joan had repositioned, shaking her SMG and tassels blooming around it to hide it in a pompom.
Part of Vuxten wondered why.
Vuxten watched the first line of the vehicles move by. Again, they were going with a serrated advance, twenty rows, twenty columns. This time it was six in front of the tank, six on each side by splitting the remaining six from the twelve armored troopers per tank and putting three per side.
The tanks were still a pale tan, this time the turret wasn't round but square, still with a hard slope. Six hoverpods, still heavily crackling with electricity, kept the tanks a foot or so off the ground even though arcs of electricity kept raking the ground beneath the pods. The main gun's barrel, again, just looked like a straw tube sticking from the turret. In the front was three guntubes sticking out.
On the side were two tubes sticking out.
The troopers were, again, in form fitting armor, soft armor at the joints, but Vuxten noticed that the armor was slightly thicker. The weapons appeared exactly the same, 8mm hypervelocity rounds.
471 had ID'd the propellant system as a set of magnetic rails, lacking the coil induction system at the end of the Confederate weapons that altered spin as well as did other things to the round.
Again, he was crouched down behind the rock, watching the tanks slowly push the wreckage to the side.
--found problem-- 471 said. He opened a window and showed that from the four dropships were moving large orbs on tracks with more armored troops around them. The orbs were being moved to a line of six orbs. As Vuxten watched, the orbs that were already in place began hissing steam, the iris closed by a camera shutter. --reinforcements--
Vuxten suddenly understood the slight improvements to the vehicles and armor.
It had been called, in his Captain's Course, 7th Generation Warfare. The massive restructuring of Terran combat doctrine with the introduction of the nanoforge and SUDS system as well as the fast cloning banks. It involved sending waves of disposable troops to gather telemetry on their effectiveness, then upgrading the templates for the next wave, as well as loading up neural patterns for applicable combat.
"Joan," Vuxten said, opening the comlink.
"Doki?" the Joan asked. She was already walking back and forth, waving her pompoms, now and then pointing a pompom at the tanks she could see through the trees and triggering a heavy round that would cave in the front of the tank, going back to waving the pink and white tassels.
"Check this," Vuxten said, tossing the drone feed. "They've got orbital support, feeding them nanoforges."
"Doki ♪☆＼(^０^＼) ♪(／^-^)／☆♪," the Joan said. She jumped in the air, spun in place, then came down in the splits, firing with one hand while the other was raised straight up.
Vuxten knew not to even try to figure out how she was making such moves in heavy assault armor.
"There's a ship back here," came a hoarse voice.
"Who's on it?" Vuxten asked.
"Nobody," the soft voice rasped. There was silence for a second as Vuxten watched another rank go by. "Now."
"Any onboard weaponry?" Vuxten asked.
"I don't know," Dambree rasped. She looked around. Screens, gauges, levers, buttons, all kinds of blinking and twinkling things.
One of the screens blinked.
"Hold," Dambree said, cocking her head and staring at the screen.
Vuxten ground his teeth in irritation. The two people he was with acted like they had to fight Daxin himself for each word. He looked over just as he saw one of the troopers, for some reason, look directly at him.
It pointed at him and screeched.
"Be right back," Vuxten said, powering forward. Before the trooper could get his arm all the way up, Vuxten's fist caved in the chest. He was already shooting, ripping apart the side of the tank, as he slid to a stop, spinning in place, and firing the SMG in short, tight bursts.
Dambree didn't react, just stared at the screen where a pale human face was staring at her. It had on vision correcting spectacles, was all white, and had a strange smile on its face.
She had seen smiles like those in therapy from people who no longer understood what a smile meant.
"Dambree. Limberton," the screen said, even though the mouth didn't move. "You have accomplished. Nothing. By killing those on the ship."
Dambree just stared at the screen, cocking her head slightly to one side and letting the tip of her ear droop on the same side.
"They were merely. Puppets. They can be replaced. In a few. Minutes," the monitor said.
Dambree just stared, unmoving.
"Even as you stand. There. They are being. Replaced," the voice said.
Flicking her ears back up and straightening her head, Dambree turned around, walking down the main corridor of the ship.
Above her the glowstrips fuzzed and flickered.
The face appeared on a screen embedded in the wall as she walked by it.
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"Where are you. Going?" the screen asked.
Dambree didn't ask, moving through the main corridor.
"There is nothing. You can. Accomplish," the voice said from another screen.
She saw the sign she wanted and stepped in front of the door.
"What is it. You want?" the voice suddenly asked.
Dambree didn't answer, just reached out and opened the emergency box on the wall, sheathing the brush clearing blade before grabbing the contents. She just stood in front of the door, waiting.
"Tell us. What you. Want," the voice said.
The lights in the main corridor flickered, buzzed somehow, and dimmed.
Dambree reached forward and thumped on the door.
"It will do. No good," the voice said.
"...right that there's nobody out," the woman who opened the door said. She turned and looked at Dambree.
Before the woman could say anything Dambree swung the axe in a short, powerful arc, the blade cleaving the woman's face in two. She went rigid as Dambree lifted the emergency axe and the woman's tense body, stepped forward, and threw it clear across the room.
There were five others in the room that had on jumpsuits. Three that were near open medical tubes that were pulling on leotards with jumpsuits next to them. The other three tubes were filled with milky fluid that had the suggestion of a biped inside.
The body sailed across the room, smashing into a diagnostic table, going boneless and flipping awkwardly over the table.
Dambree stood there, staring at them, her hand going slowly to her waist and drawing the brush blade.
"Please don't," one whimpered.
"I can pay you," another whined.
"You don't have to do this," another said.
"You can join us," one in a leotard said.
"We'll give you whatever you want," another said, licking her lips.
The light strips flickered and buzzed, casting shadows across the whole room.
"I know," Dambree said.
She stabbed the one on the right through the chest, the bone crunching, whipped the blade out, splattering the ones by the med-tubes, and stabbed the one on the right through the head. The one on the left went down silently, staring. The one on the right stood straight up, going rigid, the arms coming up at the elbows but the wrists limp. Their teeth started chattering as Dambree whipped the brush blade free.
She grabbed the brain dead one in one hand and slung it at the ones by the tube. They ducked and screamed as she stepped forward, grabbing a woman who turned to run by the brain and hacked her head off with a single strike.
Dambree stopped and stood still, the eyes of the mask glowing red.
"Okay, okay," the one by the monitor said, pressing back against the equipment. "You've made your point."
"I know," Dambree repeated, taking three quick steps and stabbing him through the chest. His eyes opened wide and he went down on his knees as Dambree turned and walked toward the three half dressed ones. They quailed back from her slow advance, staring, too frightened to even scream.
"You can't do this," one said.
"Do you know who we are?" another one whined.
"You better not touch me," the third said.
They all stared at her as she stopped just beyond arm's reach from them. The tube on her right gurgled and beeped, the liquid starting to drain away.
Dambree slammed the point of the brush blade through the macroplas, half the blade vanishing into the med-tube. Alarms started wailing as she pulled the blade free in one easy motion.
Milky fluid, mixed with blood, poured out of the puncture Dambree's blade left.
"Please," one said.
"Don't," the second one said.
The third just stared at the red glow in the black eyes of the mask. She licked her lips.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I know," Dambree answered.
The one who had apologized started to smile.
Dambree's blade caved in her face before the smile could fully form.
The other two managed to scream.
-----
"Joan, I'm going for the nanoforges," Vuxten snapped, raking the side of the tank he was moving past.
"Doki ̿̿’̿’\̵͇̿̿\=(•̪●)=/̵͇̿̿/’̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿," Joan replied.
"I will," Vuxten promised, making a rough guess. He took off, jumping over the tanks, landing on the top of the turret. Before any of the troopers could react his grenade launcher went into rapid fire, the missile launcher chuffing out missiles almost as quickly. Explosions lit up the night as he jumped from the top of one turret to the next.
There was no commander's weapon next to the hatch and the hatch was inset into the turret. Twice he kicked in the hatch and hosed the interior with his SMG before jumping off.
He'd gambled that the turrets still didn't turn well and that the guns on the tanks couldn't change their angle and, judging by the lack of return fire, he'd been right.
Five ranks and he was clear, landing in the path created by the tanks. 471 sent another barrage of rockets and grenades at the rear of the tanks as Vuxten took off at a run toward the nanoforges.
The Joan watched as more tanks pushed through, sparkles, glitter, ribbons and twinkling hearts surrounding them as they exited the tree line and pushed aside burning tanks that streamed sad emojis.
She laughed as she raked them with her ack ack, the white and pink tassels shivering as she steadied the heavy .70 caliber SMG with her off hand. The banners affixed to her back fluttered and snapped in the night breeze, the torches on her shoulders lit up the night as she twirled in place, raking the line of troopers that had survived to reach the clearing.
Her mind was full of nothing but beautiful carnage as she ripped apart the tanks and any visible troopers.
It was not unexpected to hear a loud "KA-RAK" and see the helmet of one of the troopers explode. She knew she had sniper support behind her. The hearts and smiling emoji's sprayed from the back of the trooper's head as it went down.
"WAAAARRRRRGH!" she howled out as her SMG roared in her hands.
One beautiful, perfect, crystalline moment that just went on and on, full of beautiful carnage and delightful violence.
-----
Dambree walked back into the cockpit, staring at all of the instruments and controls.
The middle screen lit up and this time the face was frowning rather than smiling.
"You did not have to. Destroy. The cloning bays," the face said.
Dambree just looked slowly over the controls, including the ones hanging from the ceiling.
"Everyone has their. Price," the face suddenly gave a wide smile. "We are prepared to. Meet. That price."
Dambree reached down, grabbed the pilot's seat by the bottom edge.
"There is. Nothing. You can do here. Child," the voice said.
Dambree ripped the seat up, then turned and repeated the action.
"Stop. This course of action has. No. Purpose," the face said.
Dambree grabbed the control yoke and ripped it free in a shower of sparks.
"You endanger your. Family," the voice said.
Dambree ripped out the co-pilot's control yoke.
Alarms were wailing around her as she topped and slowly straightened, looking at the face on the monitor.
"We have long. Memories," the face said.
Dambree just stared.
"We can reward or. Punish," the voice said. "Your siblings will. Suffer. For your actions."
Dambree reached up, pushing her hand into the small gap between the instruments at the top of the cockpit. Small arcs of red lightning moved up and down the brush blade. One ear tip twitched.
"Unless you become more. Cooperative," the voice promised.
Dambree ripped the controls clean off, the metal screaming, sparks showering, the monitor the face was on imploding.
The ship went dark.
Dambree turned and walked toward the open airlock, sheathing her brush blade. As she passed through a single screen lit up.
"You'll pay. For. That," the face threatened.
Dambree said nothing, merely walked down the ramp. She walked around the back of the ship, digging in one pocket. When she reached the engine thrust nozzle she paused, pulling her hand out of her pocket. She pulled the ring free and tossed the object into the nozzle before turning around and walking quickly into the shadow of a burnt out barn.
The M-67A3 Anti-Matter Fragmentation Grenade with Phasic Jacket exploded. For a moment it looked like nothing happened.
Then the top of the entire rear section of the ship exploded even as the crysteel pilots windows shattered and flames shot out.
Vuxten saw the explosion even as he ran across the open field. He could see a third group coming but didn't bother engaging them, just running straight at them. A set of barrels began to glow and his armor put the dotted lines for trajectories up on his visor, letting him take two slight steps to the left.
The stuttering beams from the forward guns missed, none of them leading him or tracking him as he kept moving. He jumped into the air, the grenade launcher firing, and he could see the baleful red glow of the nanoforges not too far away. There was fourteen of them up and running with eight ships slowly lowering their cargo ramps.
"Rockets rockets rockets," Vuxten chanted, marking the twelve undamaged ships. "Keep an eye out for Dambree."
471 checked the systems and saw that Dambree's datalink threw back a signal when he sent an omnidirectional query ping. She was moving past a burnt out barn and didn't show up on any other system but the encrypted datalink system that Daxin had added Dambree's datalink to.
--got her-- 471 said, tossing the position up.
"She must have destroyed that one," Vuxten said, stopping. The rocket launcher fired. "Cook us up nanite buster grenades. We'll drop them straight into the nanoforges."
--good plan-- 471 said, checking the heat and slush. Heat was only at 38%, slush sitting at 22%. Still in the green, high green, but still in the green. He tabbed up the nanite busters and heard the onboard forge whine as it went to work.
The troops around the track borne forges reacted to Vuxten leap frogging in started firing and Vuxten's computer tossed up a pattern to keep him out of the firing effects. He did a little modding as he jumped forward, the high-vee rounds whipping by where he had been with a high pitched shriek.
The grenade launcher started to cough as he landed, raked the crews around the far right with the SMG, holding the heavy magac steady, then jumped off again, doing a shallow sharp arc that only took him fifteen meters, the grenade launcher whining as the feed reloaded.
He knelt down, raking the line, seeing that the high-vee rounds went to either side of him. The grenades dropped straight into the creation engines, huge gouts of milky fluid exploding out of the massive orbs. All of them went dark and the 'busted' nanites splashed onto the ground.
"These guys are really off," Vuxten said. "Doesn't feel like Terrans at all."
--nope nope-- 471 answered.
The grenade launcher chugged and Vuxten broke into a run, straight at the forges even as the firing arcs began to converge on him. Rather than leading him, intercepting his charge, both interlocked streams of fire pulled away from him, trying to catch him dodging to either side.
More fluid gouted up and Vuxten was in with the troopers. He grabbed one, slamming it against the massive nanoforge and feeling whatever was inside the armor break apart. He shot two others even as he punched a hole in the side of the nanoforge, yanking out the molycircs inside. The opening roared with flame as the creation engine sterilized the nanites, following a control failure safety protocol.
Dambree crouched down, watching the Telkan Marine at work. She admired the smoothness, the fluidity of motion, how every round, every strike, destroyed something or took a life. How each movement was precise and controlled.
She watched the blue sparks pop off his armor as he worked and nodded to herself.
It was nice watching another professional at work.