The shuttlecraft which had disrupted the collectives militia could be seen hurdling over the horizon, a trail of steam setting behind it. The sun reflected off of its charred brow as the ship came in for a landing. Time slowed for an instant as it streaked across the sky, and plunged itself into a nearby house. Wood splintered and metal spewed fire across the streets. Innocents screamed as the commander of the T-52 squad approached the smouldering wreckage. Following new orders, the squad converged upon their enemy, ignoring John and his allies. Wired hands firmly upon a pulse rifle the robot’s eyes bulged with red light. The Citizens of New Arrakis fled for their lives piling what they could into spacecraft and land speeders. A few desperate souls barricaded themselves clutching onto the grains of sand that remained.
Raising a tarnished hand the Commander motioned for the fifteen soldiers behind to spread out. Metal feet pressed against the shattered concrete as they slowly approached the house. Ash swirled through the air as they strode, defiant in their mortal steps. Blue paint cascading against the smoke, three remaining drones exited the crashed remains of the transport and flew above the town, red eyes piercing through the sun as they hovered above their enemy. Clambering over the tattered remains of a mercenary the first soldier approached the wreckage. His eyes were latched firmly upon the target, unyielding in their focus. Feet crunching on the splintered wood of the door it made its way to the crater infront. Hot vapours and steam rushed through the air as it looked down at the smouldering wreckage infront. The cockpit of the craft had crashed directly into the center of the house, the dwelling’s roof now pried apart and a mess of smouldering ashes. Bent steel and metal were strewn throughout. The soldier clutched onto the wall for support and tumbled down into the hole. His feet clanged against the ship's tarnished hull. With a firm hand, he beckoned to the rest and they converged to form a circle around the craft.
All had their guns pointed directly at the spacecraft, a moment's hesitation not wasted. Vapours hissed through the air as a cloud formed from the cockpit door. Suddenly the window blew off the front of the craft to land in a pile of mud and broken rock. The glass shattered on impact, littering the rocky surface.
For a few seconds, the robots stood still, a horrific tranquillity. Peering into the endless darkness infront. One brave soldier reached into the cockpit, arm outstretched and pistol in hand. By the time its metal palm had passed the entrance something reached out and grabbed it. The soldier fired into the air and desperately attempted to resist, latching onto anything, the steel hull, pieces of rubble but it was dragged in. It looked into the eyes of its metallic brethren, fear streaking through its code. Then the arm holding onto the concrete gave way and the robot's shattered torso and head gave way into the darkness. All the outside heard were metallic screams. Shocked they opened fire. Emptying entire magazines, tossing grenades into the shattered hull. In these few minutes, the citizens of the desert town had enough time to escape, leaving nothing but the corpses of the abandoned and a cloud of dust to settle with their once-prosperous lives.
The collective metal soldiers fired entire magazines into the thin air and when the sound of bullets finally settled a single solitary figure emerged. The creature looked human, however, it was impossible to know the species, it bore a carven armour of the likes which had never been seen, an armour of such beautiful craftsmanship it seemed almost a masterwork of modern technology and ancient skill. The helm matched that of days before with a thick visor clouding the robot's view. The armour was completely white with no piece of skin showing. The breastplate was edged in gold and shimmered in the light. It was as if the Collective were cavemen staring into the eyes of god. The Sent stepped forward with some form of weapon laid in its sacred palm. A rifle that lay beyond comprehension. Stroking its guided fingers along the edge the creature stood tall.
The robots seized their fire for a few seconds. Their new commander raised his hand to the radio. The entire collective military was watching their movements, standing in awe as their eyes scurried across a plethora of screens. As the fifteen encircled their prey, the epsilon class ship could be seen casting its shadow down from the heavens. The great craft landed dangerously close to the ruins crashing into the foundations of abandoned ships as they sank into the ground. Breaking the silence, the armoured creature then hissed out a few words, its voice exquisite and righteous. Its deep voice was etched in a subtle veneer, sinister yet calming. Loving yet cruel.
“Lay down your arms I come for only one, after that, I will be gone” it waited for a response.
Inside the command bridge of the Epsilon, officers could be seen pacing, gazing into the screens as they watched the robots below.
The General who commanded the fleet of militia that had descended to the wasteland below, stood gritting her teeth in anger. Grey hair neatly tucked into a bun, she toyed with the gun at her side. The medals of a thousand wars lay scattered upon her armour and an officer stared into her cold grey eyes waiting for her response. Both held bated breath as others stared into the T-52's screens.
The Major stood trembling as he waited for her response.
“What should we do General?” he spoke hastily.
"I don't know who it wants, and I don't have the time to care" She responded cooly.
She motioned to two cadets at the side, pressing down upon the ground controls she glided her palm across the ships' main console.
"Bring me its head"
The Major looked shocked.
"Shouldn't we contact command? You saw what it did? We could start a war!" He barked.
The General looked into his eyes, fury building up in her own.
“Engage the creature, five good soldiers, citizens lost their lives on that battle hind, I want three more T-52 Squads a T-451 Enforcer, Two officers and a Syndicate on that ground…well take him in for questioning, what's left of him that is” she howled.
“Now?” He motioned.
“Yes now!!” she barked.
The Epsilon ship opened up its side hatch, and three more of the armoured transport cars exited the craft, dust swirled into the air as they sped towards the town. All were robots except for the two officers and the Syndicate. The Syndicate was a solitary figure, a mask covering its scarred face, it carried two heavy repeating guns on its sides and wore a tactical mesh of lead and rubber. Designed as a top assassin in a dark world of hate and pain, the Syndicate moved forward with the army of a hundred droids.
The collective officers wiped the sweat slowly off of their brows. Brandishing orders to the enslaved who stood in front. The desert sun ferociously beat down upon them. Then the Epsilon ship opened its mighty hatch once more and an APC drone and boxcar transport with three collective soldiers moved forward. If this had been a time of yore an entire army would have descended upon the desert. However, riots in the capital city, the constant fight against the outer civilizations and a revolutionary wildfire that had to be stamped out daily had thinned the lines of their troops. Their morale despite all of these calamities still stayed strong.
Cowardice and fear, are rarely seen or at the very least buried under the dust of the ancients.
Gigantic holo map infront, the general first commanded the squad of robots in contact with the intruder. The drones approached the armoured figure with foreseen caution and one produced handcuffs from its open palm. The dust had finally settled in the air and the view was clear. It stepped forward, metal foot protruding from the rubble.
"By the authority of the Collective, you are hereby detained for questioning and trial" It resounded cooly.
The Sent snarled, a smile dancing upon its lips as it breathed through the heavy plated armour.
"So you have chosen death?" He questioned.
At this, the General shouted and all the robots opened fire. Bullets spewed through the air, each one with impeccable accuracy and precision.
They riddled the Sent's armour, a barrage that fully enveloped him and sent shockwaves down his plated skin.
The creature deflected their energy bolts with ease. Its eyes hardened with anger and the creature lifted its rifle to lay waste to the entire squad. Four drones strode forward, and the Sent tanked their shots, blowing the heads off three and plunging his arm into the other to rip out its metallic heart. At this the General winced, a trickle of sweat dripping down her brow. Three more rushed to the aid of the fallen, one pulled out an energy knife plunging it into the Sent's armour. Nothing happened, the blade couldn't pierce the thick metal and the robot fell back. The sent grabbed his arm and pulled it off, wires protruding from the robot's separated limb.
It cast the severed arm into another soldier causing it to fall back into the ash. The new commander stood screaming, its own revolver spun as countless bullets ricocheted off the Sent. Smoke billowed from the barrel as it witnessed three more soldiers fall in an instant. Firing over eight hundred projectiles a second, the emissary of death destroyed its foe.
Another threw a grenade to have it fall right back into his own lap. An explosion riddled the structure as the Sent lept on the commander, knocking away its feeble metal arms and bending its skull into submission. Two droids fled, gaining a better position further up the street. Another rushed forward with a grenade belt in hand. It cast itself on its enemy and consumed him in a plume of fire. For a moment all stood still. Then armour slightly damaged the creature emerged. Its helmet was cracked, and a single grey eye escaped the visor and was exposed to the sun. It cast a cold glance at the tattered remains of the drone and gave it a sharp salute. A sign of honour coming from the damned.
Setting its eyes upon the remaining soldiers. The droids howled in horror as they were one by one deconstructed, the thing that donned the suit of armour was no regular warrior. It was a soldier who was never seen. By the time the Sent had ridden the last metal drone of its unholy head the incoming forces from the Epsilon ship were hurdling above the horizon. The defiler spared no time in its actions.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Running towards its enemy it bent its ironclad knees and the beast jumped an inhuman height landing on top of the first transport of fresh troops. The windshield caved in when the figure's foot came crashing through and the driver skidded. Hand's firmly grasping at the wheel he desperately attempted to ready the craft as the two collective officers were shaken from their seats now dealing with the mortal peril which had latched its claws onto the transport. Lifting its foot out of the gaping hole and grabbing onto the windshield of the land speeder the creature used brute strength to smash through. It latched its placid hand onto the throat of the robot driver and ignored its enemy's feeble attempt to blast his arm off. Kicking away the revolver it closed its hand until the wires and steel crushed underneath its palm.
His white armour now covered in scratches and ash the creature entered the transport, stationing its foot on the cool steel. The collective officer the only organic inside had never witnessed this level of barbarity. Fear striking into his heart he whipped out a lead pistol and repeatedly fired upon the brute which had just levelled his driver. Sweat and electrical burns spotted his face as he cried. On the outside, the two other transports stayed course steady with the hijacked craft running parallel to their adversary.
The General above waved her hand and orders were carried out. The two transports aimed their heavy repeaters at the steel belly of their former ally and opened fire. Flanked on either side of the craft the three ships sped through the streets of the town. Those that dared to remain hid under the blanket of fear as the evacuation continued. The defences of the town had been hastily deactivated and what mercenary or guard remained had either fled or were watering the town’s undergrowth with their blood.
All that remained were three ships and a chase.
The two armoured transports fired simultaneously and the hijacked craft was ripped apart. Inside the armoured descendant sprung forward. Using his shoulder he rammed into the first soldier and grabbed the pistol from his arm. Using its own weapon the creature blasted the first officer's head clean off to have the corpse sink to the floor. The second soldier kept firing, bullets helplessly bouncing off the Sent's thick armour. He aimed for the weak spot, the crack in the helmet yet it was too late. They had only a millisecond to react before both were dead cold bodies laden on the ground. As the hull tore and eroded into scraps the soldier jumped from the back of the craft and grabbed a firm hold on the steering wheel.
Ripping the dead robot from the driver's seat he grabbed the controls and jerked the middle lever. This caused the remaining back-thruster to spew sparks and jolt itself into action along with the vessel to turn around. He was heading straight for the Epsilon ship itself.
Ignorant to death’s own emissary who stood before it on the sands, the ship sped forward. The two transport craft followed his actions and continued to tail it skidding in the tracks. Their anti-ship blasters, now firing at full power, steam rising from the exhaust ports. The creature took hold of its rifle and aimed at the first transport.
Firing three times through its own steel walls it shot through 5 inches of reinforced glass and incinerated the robot pilot sending the entire transport to a sandy grave. Inside the ship, the integrity was weakening enough that the ground below could be seen. Onboard The Epsilon ship a Luitenant slammed their leathery fist on an intricate control panel and the robots which lay inside the hijacked craft began to boot up as it hurtled towards its enemy.
However, the creature would not allow it. It soon fired upon the drone pods and tossed a singular grenade in the ship's ammo supply. This time the Epsilon ship itself fired and the vessel was blown into oblivion, the soldier nor the remains of their comrades could be seen in the ashes of the damned.
Remarkably, something moved in the stolen ship's rubble.
From the scorching flames of destruction, a figure rose, a mighty soldier staring in the eyes of its prey. It now perched barely of cover a few kilometres from the Epsilon ship. The transports and APC circled it but kept their distance barraging the armoured mortal in hopes of killing him. For some reason, the Epsilon ship did not fire again, quite possibly because those in power would like to see this thing alive or simply because they knew the ground forces would surely be able to deprive this enemy of what little strength he clutched in a skeletal grasp.
All of the ships continued to fire and the being had no choice but to raise his arms in sheer terror and shield himself from their pummeling blows. Inside the suit layers of sweat lined the creature’s brow, and a small mixture of blood swirled near his gutt. It was a sign his once-impenetrable armour was fraying in its power. They were too far to jump to and still close enough to shoot. The Collective troops continued this circle for a full minute, afraid to approach fully and sure to decimate their opponent.
At last, a vessel stopped as the others continued their prolonged assault. Three robots and a Syndicate proceeded toward the opposition using the gaps in their allies' movement to jump into the circle. Their movements were conscious and slow, their armour glinting in the sunlight. Even though victory could be seen as clear as day, they continued to fire.
The Collective was taking no chances that day. The three robots moved first, the syndicate not too far behind them. They approached the wounded figure and fired, shooting until their guns overheated and a charred aroma rose from the tips of their rifles. Then the syndicate with a single wave of a hand ordered the pummeling to stop, the creature's Collective helmet portraying little emotion of any understanding, nothing but harsh solum darkness seen in the visor's complexity.
This time the APC broke the circling ranks and drove clear across the dune terrain to halt its wheels in front of the figure, a cloud of dust rising behind it. The Sent had bent itself into a fetal position. Heavy scarring and scorch marks littered their armour, the white almost completely turned to black, yet miraculously not a single blast of the thousands of rounds fired at this monolithic figure had penetrated the iron skin, it seems any wounds had been from the sheer shock of the blasts.
The syndicate moved forward and ripped one of the drone’s rifles from its grasp. The drone stepped backwards, used to this kind of demeaning behaviour from its human counterparts. He hesitated for a moment before poking the pale quivering mess in front with the rifle butt. Around them, the transports and boxcars had stopped to form a circle around their enemy, still a good distance away. The syndicate poked his enemy three-four times increasing his power and attack, still, there was no apparent reaction.
This time it swiftly whacked its opponent with the entire rifle to reveal a lifeless corpse, an exasperating cry of strength coming from the collective soldier’s lips. It panted in the sun as the clouds swirled overhead.
The two robots shifted forward and lifted the creature into the APC placing obsidian binds on its arms and legs. Then the APC door swung closed, a series of bolts interlocking to enforce the door.
It sped as fast as lightning in the direction of The Epsilon ship. The two other transports continued into the town whereas the boxcar followed the APC. The Epsilon ship opened its doors and the APC was swallowed by the cargo bay. Once the door had closed behind it, the ship sent out two heavy lifting mechas to hoist the wreck of their foe onboard; they handled it with gentle care, touching the craft as if it was a masterwork of aviation.
The Collective military sprang into motion.
An Epsilon class ship had a standard crew of 300 humanoids followed by another 100 droid soldiers. The droid army most likely had been mostly destroyed, however, a few remained onboard. Epsilon class ships were relatively simple in design. A smooth curved surface followed by a semi-large arsenal of weapons was seen. It had two main hatches on either side and windows spread across the upper levels.
The entire craft lay on landing gear sticking it a few meters off the sand. Sand however still trailed into the cracks of the ship giving it's bottom half a golden glow. Inside the ship, a large hangar was revealed. About a hundred soldiers stood around the APC, all wearing the Collective’s famed armour, one renowned both for its vanity and strength. Inside the APC two soldiers solemnly approached and pressed the door release hatch.
The general herself stood behind the plexiglass screen of the hangar control room motioning her hand for the soldiers to enter and receive their demonic prisoner. The first Sergeant walked forward and rested a ungauntleted arm on the panel. His fingernails were dirty yet well cut, blistered hands from years of service. Pressing four buttons the door had a slight hiss before it ejected upwards and was suspended open just an inch. From that inch of open-air a horrific sight was to be seen, as inside was not their comrades awaiting heroes welcome, but outpoured blood, gallons upon gallons of blood.
They watched in horror.
It spilled and slerched along the floor and lay still in a motionless placid puddle. In the back, one of the collective officers ran and puked in a nearby service corridor staining his grey uniform with a mulchy paste of dried rations. Seeing there was something wrong the soldiers frantically backed away in horrific panic from the APC and left the beast to its own desires.
Now keeping a good distance from the opening two soldiers moved forward and placed a single explosive charge on the APC’s tinted windows while another climbed and tried to pry open the gun hatch, his bravery seen through the shivers of those who dared to glance at the remains of the craft’s pilots. The general pressed for comms to the vehicle but was unable to contact those whose fate lay inside, the only answer the hazy buzz of static.
"Radio Command, Now!" She howled to the Major.
The soldiers all fled the hangar. The APC still draining its bloody contents was given a wide berth as an elite explosive trooper stood with a detonator in hand. The rest of his allies had their rifles trained on the windshield readying for a fight. The explosion was not large enough to decimate the surrounding population and would pale to the fanatical and macabre bombs used during the all-out war, but rather a small firework capable of blowing the glass to smithereens and denting the front of the vehicle.
The device went off with a bang and did as expected with a cloud of ash rising from the front.
The soldiers opened fire into the smoke with delicate aim and finally one tossed a hand grenade into the APC. Now with definite destruction, the entire craft exploded spewing shrapnel in all directions. The general ducked as a tire flew into the plexiglass. A few soldiers suffered minor injuries, a bone sticking out of one officer's leg and scarring on a young Cadets arm. The one who threw the grenade was escorted out of the hangar and taken down a corridor dragged kicking and screaming by his feet, those who watched him wary of their actions. The remaining soldiers about sixty or seventy scurried the wreckage.
Clearing the smouldering body of the car, an officer and twenty enlisted humanoids extinguished the fire. Hull panels and wiring were cracked as the ship had suffered minor damages a river of tarnished steel flowing from the epicentre of the explosion. Five unarmed robots moved forward and lifted the craterous APC body off of its hinges. When the smoke finally cleared they peered inside to see a horrifying sight. The bottom of the APC had been blasted clean through, but not from a grenade, the cuts were elegant, clean and precise a carven hole went straight through both the floor and the vehicle.
The hole connected itself towards a maintenance hatch below the hangar. The Sargent leading the attack swore under his breath glancing into the abyss, the General then slammed her hand down on a blast door closure. Across the ship of three hundred people heavily enforced plexiglass and titanium doors closed off every hall, vent, nook and alcove. Backup oxygen tubes kicked in and teams went out to clear the area room by room.
An intruder was onboard.
The General now panicked and ripped out an armour-piercing pistol from her leather holster.
"Luitentant, lock us in place and activate our distress beacon" She howled.
"Yes, General" The other responded.
The room fell silent.
"Cadet, get me my armour!" She roared.
The officers around her followed her lead portraying tantalizing tension as they gazed at the Matenaience view screens hoping to catch a glimpse of their foe. The bodies of the soldiers who lay in the APC had been blown to smithereens, nothing but fragments of silicon and flesh to remember them by.
A sanitation crew started to reluctantly clean up the hanger, placing the mutilated remains of the syndicate in a steel torpedo coffin, suitable for burial in space. All were silent as an unknown beast scavenged through their ship scouring the network of the maintenance tunnels with an unknown deadly vendetta.
Twenty fearless armoured soldiers jumped into the blackened hole. What they found when their iron boots hit the musty unventilated ground, was fear, a plaguing fear of death, one which had not been felt by the collective for over 16 years. Not since the Kestle war itself.