He let out a wild, primal cry as the muscles of his arms were shifted into overdrive. The rock sailed through the air at high speed, gravity trying to pull it down as it flew. His lenses adjusting at the rapidly disappearing projectile, shifting over one another and zooming in as it went, constantly predicting which direction it would take as it bounced down along the Wall, crashing into the hard outcrops as it made a quick descent.
Running an arm to wipe off the sweat from his forehead he let out a wild grin as the stone crashed into the ground, digging itself into the soft earth. It wasn't often he allowed the wilder side of him to emerge, but he so enjoyed letting it just all out. If there was one thing that he would admit to missing from the time between the Empire and now, it would be the ability to go all out with no holds barred. He was, physically speaking, amongst the best of the best, trained for that very purpose and it was one of the few things his creators had allowed him to find joy in. Of course there were psionics out there, teeps as they were more colloquially known, that could put the hurt on him quite easily, but beside those people, who were few and far in between, he was part of the top. Onoelle had once jokingly suggested that he'd ought to go into sports and break some world records, but given that a large part of the galaxy was even now dragging people who had a genetic lineage tracing back to the Empire into court if they were lucky and lynching parties if they were not, he'd rather not run the risk.
He much preferred the solitude and being left alone, something he knew he was at odds with over his wife, who'd love nothing more than return to the city. It was a topic of discussion that returned with an alarming frequency, no matter how much he gave her. She sympathised with him and understood him as much as she could, but she did not know what it was like to be a super soldier slowly detoxing from a war-only environment. Stars willing, she'd never know either. He'd rather die than let her find out. There were a plethora of reasons as to why he kept himself confined in the rural farmlands far away from civilisation and despite her advanced degree in psychology, a civilian was simply not equipped to understand a soldier, no matter how many years of study you had under your belt.
He smiled ruefully at that because he still had to admit that she had gotten him out of his shell. Under her careful tutelage and care he had become more than just a defective weapon of war that had a random smattering of feelings he wasn't supposed to have. She had made him human. Something that had he had not been for more years than he cared to remember.
The tiny stealth shuttle, originally nicknamed Flying Sharks only to promptly be shortened to Flarks, zipped through the darkness of space, as of yet unspotted by the gargantuan Kra'lagh dreadnought. Inside it the twenty troopers of Grey Platoon, Second Company, 74th Special Boardings Battalion nudged each other, performing final equipment checks and tried their general best to maintain morale. It was not an easy task given that every single boarding attempt had ended in disaster. They knew nothing of what they were about to face as, despite the frequent assaults that their battalion had performed, nobody had ever managed to get a message back to command. Every raid had ended with all boarders being wiped to a man. Facing suicidal odds, however, wasn't a very rare occurrence to the brave men and single woman in the platoon. Their main concern was the surprise that Command had attached to the assault. The five troopers wearing power armour so advanced it made their own Gladiator Mark II's look like toys sat at the front end of the small craft, maintaining perfect silence, holding their weapons at the ready. While the Empire's naval forces were universally outfitted with the handy, recoil-less gauss guns, these five were equipped with heavy repulsor carbines. A piece of equipment that was on the verge of phasing out of the modern army due to its heavy kickback and the reduced accuracy that came with it. Aiming with those was notoriously difficult. There were only two reasons it had taken as long to become obsolete; the first being their ridiculous ammo capacity. A single energy cell could easily produce two hundred shots and an average soldier could take two dozen of those cells with him without being burdened. A trooper encased in power armour could carry significantly more. The second reason was their sheer, overwhelming power. They were blunt force weapons that were rubbish if you wanted to penetrate armour with it, but anyone that took a shot to the chest would have his ribs shattered even if he wore body armour. If he didn't, well, he'd just have a massive hole the size of his head in his torso. Those were the normal repulsor rifles. The heavy carbines these men held in their hands were upgraded versions, suited for power armour wearing troops or designated for heavy vehicle use. In close combat their horrid accuracy made them rather useless.
Still, their choice of equipment wasn't the main reason why Grey Platoon struggled to keep their mood up. The men sitting next to them were the rumoured supersoldiers from Project Genesis and all that entailed. Their total silence was unnerving and the early attempts to draw them into banter had been met with a wall of indifference. The only solace that they had was in knowing they were not the only ones suffering. All around them dozens of Flarks were sailing through the utter darkness, headed towards the unsuspecting Kra'lagh fleet. Every single shuttle contained the same composition. Twenty soldiers and five freaks. Humans trying to keep up their morale, prepping themselves for their probable swift demise and sentient weapons sitting there while God knows what went through their heads.
Except for one shuttle.
'What were the objectives you were given?' X-12845623 asked. The question had come out of the blue and the silence in the tiny craft was deafening, every soldier of Grey Platoon freezing in place for a moment before slowly turning towards him. The sentient weapon wondered if he had worded it wrong or if the soldiers were really that dumb. He did not really know what to expect. They had been told that the other soldiers were inferior but he did not know by how much. It seemed illogical for command to send idiots along with them, but given that they knew the Empire to be in dire straits, maybe these were all there were available. Still, he had looked up the unit and they should be combat veterans.
He repeated the question but was interrupted by a First Lieutenant Lucas Herden as his HUD informed him.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
'Holy shit the freak can talk!' he shouted, causing a ripple of limited laughter to run through the cramped interior. 'I didn't think they gave you bastards tongues!'
He looked at them curiously. Were they insulting him? If so it would be a waste of time. He did not understand them.
'What were—'
'Yeah I heard you the first time Testy.'
'Testy?' came the surprised answer.
'Yeah!' grinned the Lt. 'Cause you were born in a Test Tube!'
The men roared with laughter, slapping each other. The Lt took a step closer to him, unaware that he was being carefully watched by five pairs of eyes. X-12845623 felt his muscles tense. The man in front of him was supposed to be an ally, but his instructors had drilled a few hard lessons about betrayal into him. Only his brothers and his superiors could be trusted. Then, much to his surprise, the man offered his hand. The newly christened 'Testy' looked at it briefly, his mind running back through his eidetic memory and remembered all the times he saw people performing a similar motion. He recognised it as a greeting and took the hand, shaking it.
'Well Testy, I'm Lieutenant Herden, Sheepdog. These are my men, Grey Platoon. Reckon we'll be your support for this mission.
That did not sound right.
'Our support, Lt?'
'Yeah. You guys lead the way, we follow.'
'Not that they'll get the chance to take the lead when we're up front kicking asses, hoorah!' one of the troops shouted, earning himself a round of cheers.
That wasn't good. Not only had they somehow received the wrong orders, they had the completely wrong notion of how the battle was about to unfold.
'No, Lt. You will not be our support. We will form up in our own teams upon entry and clear the ship. I do not know what happened to your orders, but it cannot be that you were assigned as our support. I would assume that you would be assigned to hold the main points after we locate them. We will signal when those areas are found.'
'What are you saying Testy? You saying we're not good enough to tag along with your little bunch?' Sheepdog replied, anger floating into his voice.
X-12845623 did not understand the source of the anger.
'Yes', he simply stated. 'You would put yourself in unnecessary danger. Our orders are to clear the ship.'
'And here I thought we'd get along Testy,' said the Lt, straining to control himself. 'But if you think that you can lord your fucked up genes over us like some kind of—' he began, forming a fist and slowly prepping himself up for a swing.
'Hey Lt?' came the quaky voice of one of his men.
'Yeah Limmy?'
'Might wanna look behind him.'
'Oh.' It was all the man could say, really, when he realised that the four living weapons behind Testy had their carbines aimed at him and his men. He had never even seen them move and they were stuck in a tiny shuttle.
'Lieutenant,' X-12845623 said carefully, trying to defuse the situation, not knowing how it had escalated so quickly.
'I do not mean offence, nor do I mean to question your authority or the veracity of the orders you were given. I am obliged to point out, however, that if you try to join up with us you would inconvenience both of our units.'
'You freaks aren't better than us,' Sheepdog retorted, but the bite had gone out of him and the words were mere empty air.
'Yes, lieutenant,' came the ice cold reply. 'We very much are.'
Staring into the polarised visor in front of him, the intimidated lieutenant somehow believed him.
Before he could offer any more reply the dim lighting inside the Flark turned from blue to red, meaning boarding became immediate. Training kicked in and he turned around, giving a final round of orders to his men before sitting down as well, strapping himself in.
'Better than us, ey?' he mused aloud, starting to fume again. 'Well lads, let's shows these creeps how a real soldier fights. We'll outperform them so bad they'll run back to Momma Testtube in tears! You hear me Grey Platoon!'
He was met with a deafening cheer and he grinned, wilfully ignoring the deathly quiet men sitting beside him.
He caught sight of a Vertigo hovering over the road leading up to the Wall. It was a road he had constructed only recently, shortly after his marriage as his wife had insisted on having the power grid reach their house. She didn't deal with ice-cold water as well as he had. Of course this had also meant cutting a pathway straight through the wall, a task that normally required power tools, heavy equipment and a good team of construction workers.
It had taken him several dozen broken tools and the better part of a month before he had cut through it and now there was a small road that connected his house with the main road and along that the small, airborne vehicle floated along. That was unusual. Nobody in the village would bother to take a Vertigo to visit them and nobody would be coming to visit him anyway. Meaning that the newcomer would be dropping by to visit his wife. Not someone from the village however. He turned around and decided to run back to his wife, let her know someone was coming. Part of him immediately slipped back to the training that was so deeply ingrained into him and he started forming plans to deal with the visitor if they weren't dropping by with friendly intentions. A smile crept on his face as he realised what he was thinking, then he chastised himself with a curse when he discovered he was sprinting between bits of cover, maintaining the golden rule of two. If you were out for more than two seconds, a targeting computer could easily lock onto him. He forced himself out in the open and ran towards the field he left his wife at, not bothering to hold himself back physically. He'd get yelled at, that was for sure.
If she saw him coming.
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