“Me?” Baquil stood shocked, she was barely processing the past few events, her mind racing.
“Director Qux wants you to be re-assigned"
"Re-assigned? Has he seen the horde down there? They had missiles, they almost took down a Battlehind!" she cried.
The first one shrugged while ruffling through a steel crate at their side. The second muttered something under his breath. Baquil was smart enough not to inquire more.
He handed her a blue microchip and placed it into her dirt-plastered hand.
Baquil sifted it through her palm as she stared up into his eyes.
“Classified” he muttered.
She could tell by the medals glinting on their armour, that they were both Majors. A high rank for a working specialist.
The second one then began to speak, he had removed his frontal armour leaving the exoskeleton husk to lean against the steel wall. Its steel build had been cracked from an Aurumian spear yet remained firm, unyielding, with a rocket launcher pinned to the side.
"We arrive at the homeworld in four days, I suggest you start reading what the hell that is Colonel"
“Major. Major” she replied with a firm salute.
Then she walked over to the foggy window and whipped her hand across the glass. Frost built up against her fingertips as she peered into the trenches below, and then while none watched, she shed a single tear for her friend. Below, the corpses would soon be forgotten as they were stripped of resources by the enemy, and the silence of death left its merciless rapture to be seen.
THREE DAYS LATER
A collective Supernova hovered above the planet Maol. The colossal craft of war and vanity paled in comparison to the mighty Orbiter, yet its very presence instilled fear in all who dared look up into the foggy sky at night. For if they ever looked up they would know, it was not themselves who controlled their fate, no god or choice, no hero or great evil. Good or bad, virtuous or destitute, whatever creature lay its dusty claw on the ship’s control panel was master of all who lay below, master of life and master of death.
Its battle scars and heavy guns showed the peril of a hundred skirmishes. Its crew of 10,000 soldiers and 30,000 robots populated its iron labyrinth, never questioning the orders played upon them.
A small hatch opened up and a transport craft entered the constant stream of traffic which travelled towards the planet's atmosphere. Yet this time the craft didn't join the ray of freighters and fighters which flowed in a river of metal. The transport craft did not partake in the line of civilization and go to the northern hemisphere.
The Orbiter's scientific propulsion unit stopped. For the first time in 17 years, there were no drop pods coming down. No containers of the insane penetrated the southern hemisphere and all who surrounded the planet and all who boarded the floating city of the Orbiter watched in horror. A military craft entered the side of the planet where nothing but scuttled ships, garbage, those who wished to die and the mindless went.
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Above a Major Commandant stood eyeing the craft as if it were a thing of beauty. The scientist beside him walked forward and placed a screen in his black-gloved hand.
“Major… we analyzed the last cell, double-checked it and rechecked it… we did all the tests possible with the material we have” he exclaimed
“ What caused it? It's been three days since we found out about him… His species pass through these walls every day. None have ever succeeded. Tell me what it is about him?” he snarled
“It's a textbook procedure. We sent a frozen subject into the maze to test compatibility, John Taylor, human, male, 26 years old, yet somehow he just left the maze! He didn’t even face any repercussions according to our biosan” the scientist retorted puzzled.
“I don’t need to hear excuses, explain!” The Major barked.
He slammed his fist against the table, causing the entire surface to shake. The scientists noticed this fear shivering down their spines.
"He had the old introductory program, the dramatic one, lot's of death and hate, nothing seemed out of the ordinary"
"I need answers!" he continued to bark spit flying from his mouth.
The lab-coated scientist swivelled his chair, tablet lighting up as he spoke.
“Sir… If you look closely at his brain wave patterns you see nothing, yes?"
"Yes?" the Major responded.
"Well, our deep ice probes scanned him while he slept. They detected an anomaly… They found a glitch. The computer had never encountered anything like this before. The C-52 pattern interacted with strands 43-1239 of his DNA. Why? He is deformed. His brain is abnormal, one in a hundred trillion have a brain like this. It doesn't make him smarter, it just means one thing… he can retry.” he spoke in a whisper fearful for his life
“Retry?...you mean he can use the machine and survive without… without dying or getting injured,” he exclaimed
“Yes”
The Major ran a hand through his hair, and a bead of sweat began to trickle down his brow. He smoothed over his uniform, holding the grey fabric in hand. His holster lay undone, pistol failing about with every step.
“Send another transport… if this one fails in court...”
"Relax Major, he was iced for seventy years," the first laughed.
"Do you have any idea how disoriented five years of cryogenics is?"
The Major began to flurry through the notes on the screen, muttering under his breath.
"Seventy? In those old pods? It'll be a day before he doesn't need painkillers to think" the second scientist responded.
"He probably hasn't even left the pod" another joked.
Suddenly a piercing sound echoed across the room.
"Door alarm" a soldier muttered.
The officer stopped in his tracks, fear spreading across his face, his hand shook for a moment as he walked.
The door slid open and a scientist and two armed guards walked forward. Yet they were not robots. No hunks of metal and scrap which held miniguns or assault rifles. They were collective killers. Their presence made all who stood near shudder in fright. The Major outranked them, but not in skill nor intellect.
He outranked them for they were a different division and those who were in power made sure no one too smart or too skilled held the rank of officer besides a select few. Except for that elite who guarded the collective homeworld, where the minds of soldiers were packed with knowledge of combat so great they are matched to none but an army of themselves.