Flashes of rapid-fire shots illuminated the Krath patrol like a meteoric extinction event. 

Krill smelled Yumen. They were here. Now. Swarms of them. 

He could feel their scent enter the pores of his slick black skin like a fine but dangerous treat. His insides screamed for Yumen flesh. This was what he was made for. What he was designed for. The Yumens would be his. 

If they didn’t kill him first. 

Krill was a underling, or ling, for short. The lowest and most expendable class of melee fighter in the Krath arsenal. His body was a vicious weapon - a partially reptilian, partially insectoid frame with massive clawed feet, vicious venom-coated mandibles, a scorpion-like tail, and a spiked, armored carapace. He looked like the sum of all fears from the deepest, darkest corner of space. 

Black, brooding and out for blood.

Krill surged forward, targeting the rifle-carrying Yumen marines with a deadset trajectory. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like it was his final push for survival. His fellow lings joined him in a swarm attack. They had numbers on their side. 

They always did.  

As they rushed ahead, the Yumens pulled back, taking cover behind a small rock wall, opening fire. Sparks erupted against the backdrop of the dark night sky, contrasting the white dots with moving flames of yellow and orange.

Guns. 

Krill hated guns. They seemed to be the Yumens’ weapon of choice. The cold, lifeless things projected tiny beads of death. Thankfully, the ling carapace was strong. Very strong. It would take many, many rounds of gunfire to do any real damage.

Krill rushed ahead, ignoring the accursed armaments. He and his fellow lings swarmed around the rock wall like an army of fire ants but a thousand times faster. The Yumens were trying to take cover, but it wouldn’t work. The lings were out for blood and nothing would stop them. Nothing short of their own death.

But something wasn’t right. 

Why would the Yumens box themselves in? Krill sensed it - the shift in tactics. He had an ability that some of his siblings didn’t always share. He seemed to be able to sense when something was awry, though often when it was too late.

This was one of those times.

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It couldn’t be. The Yumens were using one of their trix. Nasty, foul, trixful, Yumens. 

Gigantic white beetles pulled forward from a hidden cave carved into the rock wall. At least they looked like beetles to him. Krill knew better. These were artificial contraptions. Tanks. Made by the vile Yumens. Meant to kill Krath. 

White flame tanks with shiny metal cylinders mounted on their tops pulled forward. Krill caught the shift in scent and hesitated, instinctively rearing back on his hind legs. It took a certain amount of willpower to override his highly aggressive instincts. He wanted to lunge forward and sink his teeth into the thing, but he paused.

Propane.

His siblings were not so fortunate. In typical Krath fashion, they had already charge headlong into the fray.

The white metallic beetles breathed fire like dragons from the moons of Xenon, coating the underlings with liquid heat. The breath of flame coruscated forward, boiling the air itself with a noxious otherworldly stench. The light of the ignited gas pierced the dark night on Planet Xither, illuminating the rocky canyon with a red-orange flame. 

The underlings burned. It was like a bonfire on Blood Feast. 

Krill gnashed his mandibles. He could not fully control his instincts. He was made to destroy, regardless of his own life. So Krill rushed ahead, uncaring of the consequences. He was built to kill, not to think. Thinking was secondary - death was necessary. But then he paused again. This time on command.

Come back.

It was her. The Hive Mother called. Krill could not disobey. His instinct to kill was subjugated only by his instinct to obey his Queen.

He worshipped her, adored her, loved her. Krill would die for the Hive Mother, and he would obey her every command.

Return to me.

Krill pivoted his massive, clawed legs, away from the fight. His siblings burned under the immensity of the heat. It scorched Krill’s own flesh even from a distance. Krill wanted to rush ahead, and join them in a fiery death, taking out as many Yumens as he could in the process. 

Instead, Krill turned back. Lifting his black, raptor-like feet, one after the other, away from the Yumens. Oh, how Krill would have loved to sink his teeth into their delicious flesh. Their strange shells were sometimes hard to remove, but beneath the cold, metal carapace was meat so tender and mouthwatering that he dreamed of it every night. 

Flesh worthy of Blood Feast itself.

But this was a lost skirmish, and the hive mother knew it. She knew all. That’s why she called him back.

 Flame tanks were designed specifically to destroy lings. Their massive armor coating made them impenetrable. Their widespread flames meant they could roast many lings at once, seemingly from the inside out. Numbers were useless when the enemy could breath large swaths of fire, eviscerating dozens of lings in a single attack.

Krill retreated, breathing in deeply as he did. His claws sunk into the purple dirt rocks of Planet Xither. He ran. Back toward his base. Back to his mother.

His mind raced as he felt the cool rocks underneath his claws. His tail was curled behind him, balancing the weight of his head so that his center of gravity weighed on his torso, making it easy to run.

He thought of the Krath base, where the Yumens would stand little chance. Even flame tanks were no match for what was in store there. There was a megadon that could pierce the flame tanks’ armor. Or just ram them into oblivion. There were also flying dactyls. A flame tank even couldn’t hit a flying dactyl.

And of course, many, many more lings.

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