Mission Force Cyberstorm: Betrayal

Taupe energy crackled and played over the Malignus as its shields reflected the blast from the Ogre’s Particle Beam Weapon. The Ogres pilot, a crow bioderm, gazed impassively at his struggling foe, before triggering another barrage of energy, this time from one of his Herc’s arm mounted lasers - an SP800 Pulse Laser Gatling. The target Cybrid attempted to swing it’s body to allow unweakened shields to take the brunt of the attack, but it was to no avail - the powerful laser flares crashed through the shields with barely a crackle of resistance, leaving the mighty war robot vulnerable.

A faint flicker of a smile flickered over Crow’s face, and the was gone, as his fingers flickered over the Ogres command console. The data was complete within a second, and when the bioderm triggered his fire control for a third time, a terrible thundering filled the air. The Cybrid staggered once more as 90mm rounds chewed up it’s ankle actuator, and then it was spun around as the weapons full fury tore it’s left arm, shoulder and all, clear off. A barrage of missiles was triggered wildly as the Cybrid fell, sailing through the air to detonate harmlessly against a pinnacle of grey, metallic rock. Then the Cybrid machine crashed into the ground, carried down by it’s own weight. The thirty foot machine was crumpled like a paper doll by the impact; all of the armour on it’s left hand side was shattered, broken and twisted fragments lying about it. The Cybrid computer that piloted the robot attempted to force it upright, then went limp as the pilot gave up. Suddenly, a small explosion from it’s left arm - torn to ribbons by the autocannon, and damaged yet further by the fall - triggered a larger explosion amongst the missile ammunition stored in it’s chest. The ammunition detonated in a rapid chain of explosions, each larger than the last, tearing the Cybrid’s upper torso and head apart. It soon became apparent to the watching Crow that what was left of his opponent would be good for nothing but scrap.

The bioderm smiled once more, and this time it remained - a smile of grim satisfaction.

***

Herc Commander Drew Bradley strode through the long, well-lit corridors of Herc Base Mos Banta, heading towards his Command Centre. He had just received word that a hyperspace communication from Unitech Command had arrived, and that it was urgent. He had immediately left his work and headed over to the CC.

Hyperspace communications were notoriously expensive, and, as a result, communications from the Main Synthetic Intelligence (or MSI, as it soon came to be known) at UniTech command were rare. Whatever the message was, it was most certainly important; Drew had known this even before he had been told of it’s urgency.

***

As Drew stepped into the dome-shaped Command Centre, a guard sergeant came sharply to attention and saluted. Drew stopped and returned the salute with a smile, for he found the protocol of rank quite amusing. Turning away again, he proceeded to his own computer console, where he told the voice-activated computer to play all new messages. He collapsed down into his own padded chair as he waited for the computer to upload the message. He did not have to wait for long.

"You have one new message." said the computer, in a flat, emotionless voice. Someday, thought Drew, I shall have to get a new voice for this damned machine!

"View" he snapped, rapping his fingers against the chair’s armrest as the computer replied:

"This is an ULTRA TOP SECRET transmission" stated the computer, it’s voice emphasising the words. "It requires a retinal scan and spoken verification." Drew sighed, and reached for the miniature retinal scanner clipped to the side of the console. Shutting one eye, he focused the other straight into the scanner. The computer proceeded with the scan, a faint laser beam passing over his eye. It was so weak that it was barely visible to the human eye, but it was powerful enough to verify that yes, this was Drew’s eye.

As he clipped the scanner back to the side of the console, the computer spoke again. "Retinal scan complete. Vocal check: Please state your name and clearance code."

"Herc Commander Drew Marshall Bradley. 01795248." replied Drew, trying to keep his voice as flat as the computers. The machine hummed briefly, then stated:

"Security check OK. Initialising transmission."

Drew carefully placed the console’s helmet over his head and pulled down the visor. He also slipped the miniature earpiece into place. The earpiece and visor would use sound and light waves to play the holographic message. He wiped his sweating hands on his uniform, and waited for the message to play.

He did not have to wait long - the screen soon lit up, and he concentrated hard on the images and sounds.

The visor showed a single figure, shrouded in darkness. No physical features could be made out. Then the figure spoke: ‘Greetings, Herc Commander. I believe you know who I am?’ Drew nodded. Although he did not know the man who spoke, he knew that this message was from Unitech Command. They were the only organisation that could afford to send such expensive recordings, and even then, no other could contact a member of Unitech’s elite military force, Unicorp. Then the figure continued, breaking off Drew’s line of thought. ‘We have viewed the battle recordings from your last assignment, the destruction of the Cybrid base on Sigmus IV, and we are very impressed. We have decided that you are the ideal candidate for an extremely important mission. However, before I continue, you must know that this is an Ultra Top Secret mission and you are not to release details of it to anyone - not the ‘derms, not your officers, and especially not the press. If any data should be leaked, Unitech will disavow your actions and declare you renegade. You would not survive a month.’

Drew did not move. His mouth was dry, and his body covered with perspiration. This was not information to be joked about!

The shadowy figure continued. ‘The mission itself will not be simple. You are to investigate rumours of a Cybrid research base on Krell. Our sources report that this is an enormous camp, the biggest and best defended field base yet seen. If this facility should exist, you are to destroy it, completely. No trace must remain of it. You should also note that a secondary objective is to recover Cybrid research data. However, you should not let this interfere with your primary mission to destroy the base - which, officially, does not exist. I hope you understand me, Herc Commander.’

The man leaned forward, closer to the camera. ‘One last thing, Commander.’ he said. ‘...good luck.’ Then he jabbed at something on the arm of his chair, and the transmission cut off.

Drew slumped down in his chair. This new assignment was well over his head - he knew that his skills in battle were considered extraordinary by his fellow Herc Commanders, but he himself was plagued with panic whenever an important decision had to be made. His ability to lead a Herc force was diminishing day by day, battle by battle. He was becoming tired of the horrors of war - the whole thing with the Cybrids had seemed an exciting adventure to him when he had first signed on with Unicorp, but now he saw it for what it was.

The Cybrids... a familiar loathing rose in him as he he thought of the cybernetic monstrosities. Originally the result of advanced experiments into true artificial intelligence, their creators had unwittingly released the most terrible threat ever known to mankind. The ‘Cybrids’, as they came to be known, were powerful micro-supercomputers capable of frightening logic. Encased in robotic shells, they went about whatever they decided was a logical course of action with an incredible lack of emotion. Their creators, Sentinel Cybertronix Inc., had rushed their new creation into all fields - research and development, data management, and, most importantly, the military. The new Cybrid war machines were incredibly efficient, and soon any armed force which could not afford one was crushed. However, the worlds largest superpowers, after seeing what their new aqcuisitions could do, decided that the time was right for world domination. A terrifying world war broke out, and the Cybrid Hercs, as they were known, were produced in their hundreds. With the entire world fighting and squabling over land and wealth, it was not long before nuclear war broke out. The body count leapt into billions, as entire countries were exterminated.

But the horror had not yet ended. As the weary and broken survivors emerged from their places of hiding, the Cybrids - mute witnesses to the holocaust - concluded that they were the only fit masters of their collective destiny. Such a race as the humans, with xenophobic and schizophrenic tendencies, could not be allowed to live. With swift and ruthless efficiency, the Cybrids turned on their masters and captured all remaining military bases, all satellite networks, all surviving space ports, all cities. From that moment on, their only purpose has been to exterminate the race that gave them life.

But no sentient race surrenders to extinction that easily. From the ruin of Earth rose the human resistance, at first a few battered survivors in a forgotten and derelict subterranean base. Crippled and out-dated hercs, from the age when all were piloted by humans, were once again made operational. These hercs were deployed in hit-and-run guerilla tactics against the Cybrids, and as they scavenged wreckage and new technology from defeated Cybrids, the Human Resistance even grew in strength.

But Prometheus, the first and most intelligent Cybrid mastermind, was not to be defeated that easily. Even as the Human Resistance defeated the last few Cybrids left on Earth, a huge fleet entered the system, inbound from the former human space colonies. The new Cybrids immediatly began to lay siege to Earth, but human courage and determination again showed through and the initial landings were repelled. The remaining Cybrids evacuated Earth and diverted to the Lunar base on the dark side of the moon.

The Cybrids wasted no time. Even as the human race celebrated they were establishing numerous replication plants, bases and supply lines. More reinforcements arrived from the off-world colonies. Regrouped and rearmed, the Cybrids were ready for a second earth siege.

But again, the initial landings were repelled and the newly established Cybrid beachheads were eradicated. And this time, the human resistance was able to capture a Cybrid dropship and carry the fight to them. A small group of resistance fighters fought their way into the centre of the dark side base and destroyed Prometheus, leaving the remaining Cybrids leaderless. The threat was defeated.

Or so they thought.

The Cybrids still controlled many outer space colonies, and a new central intelligence arose - named Proteus, although views have been put forward that it is Prometheus returned from the dead. However, the Cybrids had now become a collective mind, allowing for greater combat efficiency.

And as the struggling human race tried to reestablish mining colonies and off-planet bases, their every step was plagued by Cybrid attacks. But Cybrid technology was no longer superior to human, and only their enormous numbers posed a problem. Planets and systems passed back and forth between the combatants, and the war continues to this day. Only one technological difference exists - human hercs are no longer piloted by humans. Instead, advanced protohuman clones known as bioderms took to the battlefield. Constructed from the DNA of previous resistance warriors, the bioderms were short-lived and unstable but were highly efficient on the battlefield.

But even as loathing for the Cybrids filled him, Drew felt an intense hatred for Unitech itself, as they treated the bioderm warriors as animals to be slaughtered and their commanders not much better. Even the leaders of Unicorp, the military branch of Unitech, treated their warriors as less than human. Only front line commanders appreciated what their warriors did for them. Yet however much he despised his superiors, he hated the inhuman Cybrids yet more.

Filled with a burst of adrenalin, he leapt from his seat. "Squad Commander Brindley!" he bellowed. A young female officer seated at one of the command centres outer consoles leapt to her feet. "Yes, sir!" she returned.

"Ready the dropship for launch. I want every herc and derm we have on board in twelve hours!"

Brindley’s eyes widened. "Sir, is that wise? Surely twelve hours is not..."

Drew cut her off mid-sentence. "Just do it!" he shouted. She obeyed, grabbing the microphone on her console and rapping out orders to everyone on the base. Within seconds, the command centre was filled with officers shouting orders and technicians furiously hammering away at their consoles.

Drew smiled. Cybrids, he thought, here I come!

Although Drew himself would never accept the fact, he was one of the best Herc Commanders ever to have lead Unitech forces into battle. His unorthodox yet brilliant strategies had led him to victory time and time again. He had a knack for doing the unexpected in battle - and that was the Cybrids main failing. They would dismiss Drew’s tactics as illogical and thus would not expect them. They were also quite slow to react, and by the time they realised what was happening, it was often far too late. Thanks to these skills he had risen through the ranks of the Unitech military. He was now a Unicorp Herc Commander and was permitted to own twenty-eight hercs and over forty bioderms.

As well as being a brilliant battlefield commander, Drew was also skilled at organising and configuring his hercs. He controlled the full complement of hercs that was allowed for his rank - twenty-eight. These were divided into three companies of eight hercs, which were in turn divided into two squads, each of which consisted of four hercs. One of these commanded the squad, and the other three provided a wide range of firepower and heavy armor that allowed a wide range of combat versatility. The four hercs which did not belong to any company were the command squad - the Command Herc, which Drew sometimes piloted himself, two heavy escorts and a lightweight Shadow herc, equipped with the latest overdrive nodes, antigravity units and long range sensors, which served as the scout herc. All of the other hercs under his command were similarly well armed, with the most effective armor, reactors, shields, life support units and weapons available in the universe.

Although the hercs under his command ranged from the lightweight Sensei to the 100-ton Juggernaught, the squads and companies were all configured and trained to work as teams. Hercs equiped with energy weapons would tear apart a Cybrids shields, and then cannon and missile hercs would blow it apart with their powerful projectile weapons. More tactical hercs were also included to perform a variety of tasks such as mining or reconnaissance.

Drew also occasionally fielded a platoon of infantry, transported in APC’s and supported by combat-ready hovercraft and tanks. Although these troops and vehicles had become obsolete on the modern battlefield due to the invention of shields - few weapons carried by infantry and light vehicles could penetrate shields - they were excellent for storming Cybrid buildings and urban fighting.

He also maintained a small squadron of aerospace fighters. These were also very rare - although they were capable of carrying weapons powerful enough to devastate a herc, they were astronomically expensive to build and fuel hungry. As a result, few herc commanders could afford them.

Drew himself, when not leading from the front in his personal herc, coordinated his forces from his personal dropship, the Inviduous. It was almost unheard of for a herc commander to own a dropship - each one cost several million credits - but Drew’s successes had allowed him to afford it. Also aboard the dropship were five crewmen, who piloted it across the stars, and six officers hand-picked by Drew for their abilities to keep calm in a crisis and their command capabilities. These six commanded the squads of hercs on the battlefield. A powerful neuro-computer allowed them to communicate with each other and their commands from the relative safety of the dropship. They were also able to read each other’s minds to a certain degree, which allowed them to coordinate their forces in tandem. Drew himself acted as an overlord, controlling the scout and command elements of his force, and passing out orders to the squad commanders.

Drew and all of those under his command could fit onboard the huge Inviduous with plenty of room to spare. Ammunition, food and water filled up some of this space, allowing hercs with resupply drones to restock.

All of this made for an incredibly powerful force, and when combined with Drew’s brilliant mind, resulted in a virtually unbeatable force. If the Cybrids had been capable of fear, the name of Drew Bradley would have inspired terror in them.

***

As the Ogre stepped forwards over the shattered remains of it’s foe, it was struck by a searing bolt of energy. The shot was absorbed by the shields and only staggered the herc, and as it regained it’s balance Crow frowned and checked his scanners. Nothing - wait! His scanner detected faint thermal readings and sysmic vibrations - sure signs of a hot, heavy herc stomping around - from behind a nearby ridge. The ‘derm stopped his herc as he prepared for a detailed scan - and avoided death by the smallest of fractions. A flight of some two dozen missiles and rockets sailed over the ridge. They flew high - sailing two metres over the Ogres ‘head’ - but had he been another ten metres forwards, they would have gutted the gigantic herc like a fish. Crow wiped sweat from his eyes and scratched at his greasy hair as he crouched his herc. His powerful Crystal Matrix sensors soon revealed that there were three Cybrids behind the ridge - two were identified as Hades, one of the most powerful individual Cybrids, but the third was either a new configuration that his computer did not recognise, or was something interfering with his sensors.

At that moment, the Cybrids, realising their ambush had failed, crawled over the ridge towards him. Crow, realising that his Ogre could not take on two Hades at once, began to back away, trading shots with his opponents. A lucky shot from Crow tore the arm from one of the Hades, robbing it of it’s PBW, but theOgres shields were taking a battery.

Suddenly, Crow’s HUD display was bathed in an intense light. Screaming, he covered his eyes, then blinked, realising he could still see, and looked up again. His HUD was now lit up with the dull, red glow of his damage computer - and this light was no less dangerous. It quickly became apparent to him that his herc had been thrown to the ground and the Hades, taking advantage of the situation, had advanced and were now only two hundred metres away.

‘By my beloved ancestors’ he thought, ‘one more hit like that and I’ll be laid wide open!’ Clearing his head of the overwhelming panic, he realised that the Hades could never have caused that much damage with one hit. Pulling his herc upright, he gazed around. Nothing could be seen save for the two Hades who were still cautiously approaching. Their caution was probably due to the increasing number of Unicorp hercs that carried self destruct modules.

And then, right before his eyes, his aggressor clambered from over the ridge from behind which it had nearly killed him twice. Crow squinted. ‘No’, he thought, ‘it couldn’t possibly be...’ And then recognition flooded into his mind.

Crow screamed something incomprehensible, both in shock and terror. He dropped all of his hercs shield to allow himself to fire everything at once - a deadly barrage that would wipe that familiar figure from existence. But the two Hades, who had been patiently waiting some distance away, seized the opportunity and fired.

Without any shields to protect it, the Ogre was torn apart. Autocannon shells tore away his chest armour, and a laser beam bit right through to his hercs fusion reactor - with catastrophic results. The mighty war machine was torn apart in a tremendous explosion, which shook the land for miles around.

***

The planet’s barren surface was empty - not even wind stirred the thick dust which carpeted the ground. It was a planet without atmosphere, perhaps even just a small asteroid that had been pulled into orbit around the local sun. No-one knew for sure, and no-one cared enough to find out.

Sound did not travel through the vacuum, and so the heavy rumbling normally associated with a dropship could not be heard. The dropship itself, however, could be seen. A tiny glowing spark was the first hint of it’s existence. The spark slowly grew larger as it approached, and the closer it got, the faster it seemed to be. Within minutes, the three hundred metre long behemoth was grounded. Dust billowed up around it, obscuring it from view, and infuriating the ship’s sensors, if only temporarily.

Preliminary defence drones crawled out from tiny crevices in the dropship’s hull. Having found a suitable position, they squatted down, their tiny metallic bodies barely visible in the thick metallic dust. Barely two feet tall, they would not last a moment against a herc - but two seconds was time enough to send a warning back to the dropship.

An enormous blast door opened at the front of the dropship. The ship’s landing ramp slid out, like the tongue of some gargantuan beast. As the ramp reached it’s full extension, two hercs appeared at the top. Like medieval knights in armour, they stepped slowly down the ramp, and when they reached the bottom, they stepped to the sides, taking up positions to either side of the ramp’s base.

Another two hercs appeared at the blast door, and proceeded down the ramp. More and more emerged, all taking up positions in ranks around the dropship. Yet more arrived, hercs of every shape and form - Remora, Sensei, Demon, Juggernaught and Reaper class hercs could all be seen. Every different herc chassis available to Unicorp could have been found here. All were equiped with top of the range weapons, and were kept in peak condition. These hercs made up one of the most powerful fighting units in the galaxy.

***

As the last hercs took up position, Drew, in a full enviromental suit, appeared at the top of the ramp. Besides him, his aide-de-camp, Squad Commander Brindley adjusted her throat mike and cleared her throat to get his attention. He nodded slightly to show that he had heard.

"Sir, the initial scouts we sent ahead in drop-pods are just reporting back. Jinishaya, Kyoko and Elana have all reported in - but we have no word from Crow."

"Crow?" Drew sounded surprised. "That’s unusual. Let’s hope that nothing terrible has happened - he is, after all, one of our best pilots..." His voice trailed away as he stared out into the distance.

It was several seconds before either of them spoke, but Brindley realised he was slipping into one of his moods, and said: "Sir, should I send someone out to look for him? A sensei with long ranged radar shouldn’t take long to find him. An aerospace fighter would be even better."

Drew snapped out of his moody condition quickly. "I...Yes, that’s a good idea. But not an aerospace fighter - we don’t want to alert the Cybrids to our presence. Jath or Borok - possibly Nura - with the Sensei you mentioned would probably be our best bet. You’d better retro-fit one of them with a medical module, just in case."

Many of his officers laughed at their commander for this. They all respected and admired him, but they found it amusing how he would be jolted out of one of his sombre moods, and would instantly be rapping out orders, his previous condition instantly forgotten. Sometimes he would, at first, appear somewhat indecisive, but he soon warmed to the subject and was giving out orders and seemingly enjoying it, too.

Until recently, Brindley had laughed with them. Recently, though, she had begun to get worried. Drew had his little quirks, just like every other human being, but he had started to become even more despondent and indecisive. It puzzled her no end how someone so brilliant and successful, someone in charge of one of Unicorp’s crack fighting regiments, could consider himself an incompetent fool with no command skills whatsoever!

She made the decision there and then to contact Unitech once the campaign was over and commision a military psychiatrist who could help Drew.

But that would be later - right now she had other matters at hand.

She snapped to attention and shot off a smart salute. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"

She knew that the military crispness would irritate him, but she hoped that by doing so, she could keep him in good humour - he would know she was only teasing - and keep him out of his states of depression.

As she turned and made her way back into the dropships interior, she realised that such an idea was absurd. She was no psychologist! But, as she was the only one who seemed to notice his problems, she had to do something. But what? Then she sighed, shrugged, and concentrated on finding Crow and his Ogre.

***

Crow woke with a start. As he shook away the blackness that threatened to engulf him once more, he muzzily recalled his death. No, that wasn’t right. He was alive. An afterlife, if such existed, would not involve being encased in a small metal pod.

Metal.

His Herc.

The escape pod.

He was alive! His veins suddenly pumped with adrenalin, he leapt up, breaking the restraints on his seat, and also cracking his head on the tiny pod’s ceiling. As he fell back in his torn and crumpled command chair, nursing a bruised skull, he noticed the crack.

It was less than a millimetre wide, and barely an inch long, but on this barren, airless moon, the remaining air in his pod would be lost very soon - in fact, it was the air being sucked out that would be causing the faint hissing that his brain had earlier refused to register.

Crow stared at the crack in disbelief. This could not be happening - not to him! Panicking, he did the only thing he could think of. He screamed.

Perhaps, he thought, if he screamed enough, he would wake up, and it would all have been a bad dream. In fact, the opposite happened.

He passed out.

***

Jath, encased in his forty-foot tall Sensei, had his gaze fixed on his HDD (Heads Down Display) in his Herc’s cockpit. He was currently awaiting the results of a long range sensor scan, hoping for a chance discovery of Crow’s Ogre. Then the results flickered up, and immediatly vanished. Damn cheap UniCorp computers! thought Jath, thumping it with a clenched fist. The scan results reappeared and this time remained. No sign of anything even remotely unusual.

He sighed, and pulled his Herc up out of it’s crouch. As he raised one massive leg, preparing to move on, he heard a sudden high pitched whine. Snatching his discarded headphones from base of the cockpit, he jammed them against one ear and strained to make out the words of a quiet, feminine voice:

‘...assistance required urgently. Oxygen leaking from a small micro-fracture in the inner shell. Repeat, this is Nura of fourth squad. I have found the captain. Crow requires assistance urgently. A fracture in the pod is leaking oxygen. Follow my radar beacon. Medical team required urgently. Repeat, med. team required urgently. Nura, out.’

Jath dropped the headset and grinned. He’d known the captain wouldn’t give up that easily - he’d known he would think of something. Still grinning, he pivoted his Herc to the west and stamped off through the thick dust, following Nura’s beacon.

The news that Crow had been found and would soon be safe back at base quickly circulated around the dropship. The younger ‘derm pilots cheered wildly, the older and wiser officers nodded and smiled, and even Drew was reputed to have been shaken out of his usual ‘campaign depression’ long enough to crack a smile.

Brindley and a few of her fellow officers were quite surprised - on a barren, airless moon, even one as small as this, the odds of discovering a lost pilot were simply thousands to one.. When she later questioned the pilot who had found him - Nura - she discovered an interesting fact; that is, that the possibility of discovering a missing pilot are substantially increased when said pilot unconsciously collapses onto the freespace thruster control, thereby activating his pod’s jets, leaving a bright and obvious visual signal for anyone to follow.

Funnily enough, the chance of Crow falling in such a way was simply thousands to one.

***

Drew strode through one of the dropship’s seemingly identical corridors, a grim stare on his face. In fact, he was not thinking about anything in particular - his face simply fell into that grim mask out of habit, for twenty years as a Herc Commander had left him with some habits he did not even know he had.

He was heading towards the Medbay, where Crow, his top pilot - and possibly even friend - had been brought in from the crash site. Drew hoped he had recieved no serious injuries. The loss of a Herc was one thing, but the death of a pilot, even a replaceable bioderm like Crow, was something he simply would not accept.

In fact, the matter of bioderms was a touchy one at best. There was much debate between Earth’s top scientists over whether ‘derms could, like humans, feel emotions. The questions had still not been answered, although Drew himself believed that they had more compassion than, for example, most UniCorp officials. Bioderms, when questioned about, or even ordered to talk about emotions, had responded with a stony, impassive silence. One scientist had even resorted to torturing bioderms with then legal nerve-janglers. The result of this was the death of the scientist, rather than the captive derm’s, as enraged clones broke into the laboratory and literally tore the scientist apart. This quickly led onto the Bioderm Protection Act of 139. There were stories of frontier research stations conducting forbidden ‘experiments’ on bioderms, but UniCorp denied it all - UniCorp, for all that they had once done for Earth, were no better than any other corrupt government. However, as far as Drew could tell, even these dark practices had failed.

Drew liked to consider bioderms to have emotions - he believed that something approaching friendship had formed between himself and a number of the pilots under his command. This, he admitted to himself, was probably because he did not, in fact, make friends easily. The protoplasmic pilots he could relate to; hatred for the Cybrids and an addiction to combat were things they shared. Although he was a respected and extremely competent general, he was not a ‘people person’ - he could never be described as easy-going or charismatic. He did not drink at all, and seldom visited the Herc base’s bar, and had few close friends. Of these, most were civilians back on Earth; people he had met long ago in his non-military days. However, because Drew knew that breaking the silence about his loneliness could have a negative effect on the efficiency of his combat teams, he kept it bottled up inside him, and had done for many years. As yet, he had managed to keep it all hidden from everyone.

Except Brindley. She could read him like a book. Fortunately, she must have understood his reasons for keeping it quiet, and remained silent about it. She hadn’t even mentioned it - it was just the way she looked at him with her calm, pitying gaze.

He sighed. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he had a less capable Exec.

Drew cleared his head, and returned to his original line of thought: bioderms. They really are odd creatures when you think about them, Drew mentally concluded. Quiet, solitary, only speaking occasionally...more secrecy was inconceivable.

It was at that moment that he realised how much he actually knew about them. He understood that they tended to keep to themselves, generally gathering into small, close-knit groups comprised only of their own kind. What sort of things passed between them, Drew wondered. Whenever he passed within earshot, their mouths snapped shut - although that could of course be because he was the units CO...many pilots and soldiers would rather not share their private conversations with an officer. But bioderms only spoke to true humans when they were specifically asked a question - except Crow, the highest ranking pilot on the base. Crow, however, probably felt it necessary to make polite conversation; because he held the rank of field captain, he was almost considered an officer.

Drew suddenly realised that he had passed straight through the medblock. Embarrassed by his absent-mindedness, he glanced about to see if anyone had seen his mistake. Relieved that this was not the case, he backtracked to Crow’s dormitory. He paused before the automatic door to take a deep breath and put on a brave face, then stepped inside.

***

The bioderm project had been initiated in 181 P.E. (Post Earthsieges) by the Resistance research team. Substantial results emerged in 220 P.E., thirty nine years after the project had been begun and thirteen years after the Resistance had become UniCorp, the central mega-corporation that governed the entire human race from what remained of Earth.

The ‘substantial results’ were the first bioderm ever created; an advanced clone of a common (or not so common, after the Earthsieges) household cat. The creature displayed advanced enhanced strength, speed and cunning, thanks to it’s protoplasm cell base.

Protoplasm is used in place of traditional cell materials because of it’s rapid growth; a clone generated with protoplasm would reach maturity in a fraction of the time occupied by normal growth - or preconstructed cells could be used to form a new clone in a matter of minutes. Protoplasm also maximises genetic potential and is cheap to create, although complex and laborious. Unfortunately, protplasm is no miracle creation. It has a serious flaw in it’s stability. If a clone’s Genetic Stability Stress (GSS) becomes to great, it will disolve back into it’s component atoms - the veiny blue protoplasmic soup which crystallises on contact with oxygen. This instability was first discovered when the cloned cat became frustrated at being a test-subject; it had exploded violently, destroying a small fortune of laboratory equipment and putting a scientist in the medbay for a week.

The destability also meant a limited lifespan - normally between four and eight UniCorp years. Because of their short lifespan, bioderms seldom have time to perfect their Herc operation skills. An old and abandoned science provided the answer - virtual reality.

Because all bioderms are given Genetic Computer Strand Implants during their ‘birth’ to enhance and recall the skills of the original pilot they were cloned from, VR was ideal. GCSI’s not only improve the original skills, they can also act as receptors for new bioelectric coding, which adds new skills and further enhances others. These bioelectric sequences were mostly generated by supercomputers specifically designed for the task, although a number were recorded from the greatest surviving pilots of the Earthsieges. Bioderms have come to refer to VR training as ‘getting the chair’.

There are hundreds of varieties of bioderm pilots, and they all have individual personalities and abilities - a tribute to human science. They range from the cheap and simple binary series (models 001, 101 and 110 are the only bioderms in this category used by UniTech), to the superb Tola range. Kouras, Khadisha, Borok and Uru are just some of the able Herc piloting bioderms available. But there are other bioderms - unique bioderms, the results of ongoing experimentation or genetic accidents. Most of these ‘unique’ bioderms are destroyed on discovery, but some skilled bioderms are sent to certain herc commanders as ‘gifts’. These mutations are kept as secret as possible by Unitech and the recipient commanders. Other bioderms often react violently to unique bioderms - because of this, the abnormalities in question are kept apart from their comrades. Thus, the life of a unique bioderm is a cursed one indeed. But the one thing they do have is hope - the Equal Rights for Bioderms (ERB) movement has been gathering strength over the last few years, and many uniques also hope to gain respect in the eyes of their comrades. This is unlikely, however, due to the strength of a certain human emotion - jealousy.

Emotions are the one thing that continue to puzzle scientists in biotechnology. But it is widely believed that only the most powerful human emotions are ever apparent in bioderms - especially the emotions of the humans they were cloned from. In some, it is bravery, or the desire to please. But no matter a persons qualities, jealousy is always present, in some form or another.

The Crow series of bioderms was based on Magnus Crow, a skilled warrior from the second Earthsiege. Magnus was a very emotional man as well as a skilled soldier, and so the emotions in the Crow bioderms are more varied and pronounced than in others.

This, combined with the intelligence introduced to the Crow series by it’s creators, has produced an intelligent soldier who can analyse his own emotions. Thus, the controversy over bioderms could have been answered by any member of the Crow series.

But no-one ever asks a bioderm.

‘He’s putting on a brave face’ thought Crow, as Drew stepped into the room. The automatic door whirred shut.

Drew shifted uncomfortably and coughed. Gods, but could those bioderms stare! He had heard somewhere that their eyes were kept moist by an additional micro-organ that pumped out small quantities of a thin liquid. But that was no comfort - you couldn’t tell anything from their eyes - they might be offering you a friendly gaze, or be subjecting you to a scathing glare...

Abruptly, Drew realised that he was staring back at Crow, who seemed faintly amused. He shook his head ever so slightly to clear his mind of these thoughts, and then smiled at the pilot.

‘Greetings, captain. I trust the medics are treating you well?’ The question was intended to lighten the atmosphere - Drew was a leader, he knew the power of words.

Crow’s face broke into a slow grin. ‘Fine, fine. I trust that you, too, are well? Sir?’

‘Never been better,’ it was a lie, but Drew managed to conceal this,’I hear that your survival was quite extroardinary?’

Crow laughed, a rich, bass sound. ‘It was, sir. I don’t believe in luck, but I keep getting the feeling that luck believes in me.’ Drew joined in with his laughter briefly, then his face became somber and grim. ‘You were the last of the scouts in. I think it is safe to tell you - we are preparing for the big assault.’

‘Then I shall miss the battle.’ he replied, ruefully. Drew’s thoughts again passed over the oddness of bioderms - their lives were so short that they seemed to try to cram in all the action they could. Their conversation was abruptly cut off as a medical orderly entered the room via a side door. She made a brief, routine check of Crow’s lifesigns, and made a minor adjustment to the prophylactic computer. At that moment, she became aware that both of the officers were watching her; waiting for her to leave. Whispering an apology, she left the way she had come. As she passed through the doorway, Crow called out his thanks, and she turned and smiled, before closing the door.

Crow turned his attention to his commander, who had not moved. ‘Sir, I have been meaning to tell you something. It’s...very important, sir. About the Cybrids.’

Drew leaned forwards slightly, concerned and curious. ‘Yes?’ he enquired.

‘That’s the problem, sir. I simply can’t remember what it was - just that it was important...’ the bioderm’s voice trailed off uncertainly.

‘Never mind, captain,’ said Drew, ‘I think you’d best just get some rest. You need it.’

‘Thank you sir. I will.’ With that, Crow leaned back onto his pilllow and closed his eyes. Could bioderms sleep? Drew didn’t know. It must be an incredible waste of your life, sleeping. That was probably why bioderms, with their shortened lifespans, went for rest and recuperation in the medvat - a suspended animation chamber of sorts, which used a top-secret chemical to prevent aging. The Crow series was unfortunate in that the original donor had been claustrophobic, meaning that if you tried to get the bioderms into an enclosed space, specifically a medvat, they would go crazy. For this reason, many Crow bioderms were either sedated before being placed in the tanks, or they were moved into a standard hospital.

The claustrophobia probably puzzled some non-Herc pilots - if Crow bioderms suffered thus, how could they pilot Hercs? The cockpits were small, cramped and frequently hot. The answer was obvious - all pilots are neuro-linked to their machines, and nothing can restrain one whose body is that of a Herc.

Crow lifted his head from the pillow. ‘Sir?’ he said, stating it like a question.

Drew was startled, then composed himself. ‘Sorry about that, Crow,’ he said, ‘my mind was wandering. I’ll be leaving now. Good luck!’ Having said his piece, he left quickly to prevent any more embarrassing incidents.

Crow didn’t move. After staring blankly at the door through which Drew had left for several minutes, he quietly muttered; ‘Keep your luck, Drew. You’ll need it more than I’.

***

As Drew entered the command centre, he was halted almost immediatly by his executive officer, who was looking more flustered than usual.

She caught his questioning gaze, and said: ‘Things are very busy, sir, with the attack imminent.’ She selected a few papers from the bundle she had tucked into her clipboard and held them out to him. ‘We’ve just recieved a transmission from the MSI. I printed it out for you.’

Drew shook his head. ‘Sarah, I know that you’ll have read them already. Just give me a summary, ok?’

She flushed at his mild accusation, but did as he asked. ‘Nothing major sir. A number of commanders have had a minor budget increase - but not us. Have you noticed, sir, that we seem to have been overlooked a lot of late?’ Drew nodded, frowning. Brindley continued; ‘A few small increases in Unitech weapons technology. I expect the quartermaster will have a full report for you back at base. Oh, and a few rumours about a second Mos Parda incident. A crazed experimental bioderm supposedly stole a Herc and tore apart an entire base, just to avoid the tank. Thousands were killed, and - unofficially - they’re still picking up the survivors. The bioderm involved had the name...Tarsus. Familiar, sir?’ Drew shook his head. He had, in fact, known Frank Tarsus - a fellow Herc Commander, close to being a friend, in fact. However, there was no advantage to letting Sarah know he had known the unfortunate man, before he had been...adapted. ‘What happened to the ‘derm?’ he asked, cautiously.

Brindley smiled. ‘Well, unofficially, UniTech picked him up when they followed the distress call. Officially, as I have already mentioned, he never existed.’

Drew knew why the incident had occurred. Frank Tarsus had always refused attempts by UniTech to acquire his DNA for the bioderm process. After his death, Drew supposed, they must have gone ahead anyway. Being a bioderm was Frank’s idea of Hell...so Drew was not surprised by what had happened as a result.

‘There’s more, sir. But I don’t think I should tell you...here. This information could be dangerous in the wrong hands.’

Drew motioned towards the briefing room, which was empty at this moment in time. ‘The briefing room is secure,’ he said, ‘you can tell me in there.’

Brindley didn’t waste any time. The moment the door slid shut, she spoke; ‘Drew, this information is especially important - I think it might well be the reason we are here.’ Drew nodded, impatiently, before she continued. ‘It’s the Cybrid’s...they’re studying BGM’s.’

Drew started. ‘What? But...but that’s...’

‘Impossible? Yes, that’s was my first thought when I read this. But it’s true.’

Drew paused briefly, thinking, before speaking again; ‘I expect that’s why Unitech gave this mission such high priority...to destroy research bases. Oh, Sarah...officially, you don’t know any of this.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well, the attack is imminent, and that news shouldn’t change our plans much. Just increase the target priority of enemy research centres.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll get on it right away.’

Drew pressed the palm-pad on the door. ‘Thank you, Brindley. That will be all.’

‘Yes, sir’ she replied, and saluted. He returned the salute, and then she turned and left, resuming her position in the command centre.

Drew followed, leaving the briefing room and making his way to his own chair, the ‘Throne of Command’ as it was jokingly referred to. From here, he could begin the long process of gathering information and planning attack strategies based on the report’s of the scouts.

***

Within forty-five minutes, he was ready. Orders and strategies were fed into the computer’s of all the Hercs and other vehicles participating in the assault. Bioderms clambered into the cockpits of their war-machines. Reactor drives were powered up, and neuro-helmets activated.

Twenty mighty steel warriors stepped forward, forming into ranks, ready for the command to begin the march. A full squadron of Razor aerospace fighter-aircraft were launched from their bays in the dropship, screaming above the heads of the Hercs below, before assuming their own formation in the skies high above. A small squad of infantry, encased in comparatively tiny suits of atmospheric armour, stood beside their APC.

Drew’s army was ready, and all of it’s members waited tensely in the silence, preparing for the command that signified death for the Cybrids.

Then, the command was given.

The line of armoured Hercs moved as one, the ground reverberating beneath their feet. To observers, had their been any, they might have appeared not unlike a rank of medieval knights, marching to honourable combat. Then, the Herc’s broke step, to prevent steady seismic vibrations from giving away their advance. Beneath their feet, the APC with it’s fragile cargo darted, whilst high above their heads, the tiny airforce soared.

***

It took less than an hour for the army to reach it’s it’s target. As the bulk of the army approached, tiny, 20-foot tall Shadow Hercs activated their sensors and identified the enemy defences. The five Razor aircraft assumed low altitude flight to evade enemy radar installations.

As the army continued the advance, Cybrid workers proceeded with their assigned tasks, completely unaware of it’s presence.

***

The element of surprise was soon lost. A small Cybrid laser turret rotated slowly, using it’s built-in sensors to detect the presence of hostile forces.

Abruptly, it picked up the faint heat signatures of a large group of unknown Hercs. It’s tiny computer mind squealed as it transmitted an alarm signal to every Cybrid in a twenty-mile radius. With this task completed, it prepared to resist the invaders.

The twin laser pod atop the turret spun to face the UniTech forces. The targeting computer locked onto the nearest enemy heat signature and fired, brightening the darkness of the moon with twin ruby-red laser beams.

The battle began.

***

Drew, co-ordinating the attack from the Inviduous, witnessed the red bolts strike their target with a crackling, blue flare as a Giant’s shields were struck. Damage was extremely low at this range, as was accuracy - only one of the beams had actually struck home - but the Cybrids now knew of their presence.

Using the neuro-computer that linked him to his sub-commanders and their active units, he ‘thought’ orders, which were then relayed to his sub-commanders.

‘They know we’re here! Go!’

As his plan dictated, the two 8-strong companies seperated to make a pincer attack on the frontal base defences - whichever direction the turrets then turned, their weak rear armour would be vulnerable to attack from one of the companies. The command squad - Drew’s own Reaper, piloted by a replacement command bioderm, two awesome Juggernaughts, and a tiny Shadow - gave covering fire, continuing a slow advance. ATX autocannon shells were launched by the Juggernaughts, crushing a pod of Cybrid turrets, including the light laser unit which had first spotted them. Pulse lasers illuminated the night, bursting through shields and leaving the Cybrid machines inside defenceless. The Shadow, piloted by a Borok bioderm (Drew took care to only include one bioderm of each class in each company - it saved confusion), sheltered behind a rocky outcrop and used it’s advanced crystal matrix sensors to pick out likely targets for the attackers.

The two pincer companies were meeting with great success. Although it was impossible to take Cybrids ‘by surprise’, emotionless machines as they were, they had undoubtedly been caught unprepared.

The first of the Cybrid Hercs were now appearing, but to Drew it seemed almost too easy. As he watched, two Hercs from Brindley’s squad - an Ogre and a Giant - combined their fire on a lone Cybrid Genocite. The Ogre, equipped solely with energy weapons, shattered the Cybrid’s shields, before it’s partner stepped in with autocannons blazing. As dozens of heavy autocannon shells tore into it, the Cybrid teetered and nearly fell. Demonstrating immense skill, it’s Cybrid pilot regained the machines balance, and levelled it’s own weapons at the Giant. Before it could fire, two heavy X-HEAP shells from it’s intended target abruptly ended it’s existence. What was left of the pulverised machine flared brightly before exploding, debris being scattered far and wide, most of it floating of into space, having escaped the low gravity of the moon.

***

Crow had finally managed to escape the medical centre - the doctors had finally conceded that he was well enough to leave, if only temporarily. As he limped to the command centre, only one thing was in his mind - to find Drew, and pass onto him the vital information which had only now become clear to him.

As he stumbled into the centre, a quick glance at the monitors told him that the battle was going well - a few Hercs had lost limbs to heavy fire, but four enemy Hercs had been incapacitated, and most of the defending turrets destroyed. The scout Herc from the command squad had been left crippled by a surprise attack by a returning Cybrid patrol, and shields and ammunition were running low in some squads, but no serious setbacks had occured.

***

Drew’s Hercs were forcing their way deeper and deeper into the Cybrid base. Victory now seemed certain, as yet another Cybrid fell, a burning wreck.

Suddenly, in an instant, two of the UniTech Hercs were destroyed - a Demon exploded incandescently as an enormous barrage of fire broke through it’s shields and gutted it’s reactor, and a Sensei, previously damaged by Cybrid fire, collapsed, it’s head and cockpit a charred ruin. What was left of it was burning violently, but the inferno would not last long in this atmosphere. For now, though, the oxygen in the life support tanks fueled the flames.

The friendly Hercs in the company turned to face the source of the barrage, and halted, stunned, in their tracks. As Drew and his sub-commanders saw through the eyes of the UniTech Hercs, they too were struck dumb.

Emerging from the Cybrid command node were three Reaper class Hercs.

***

The shock did not last long. Drew had been shocked on the battlefield many times, but the appearance of the UniTech-Cybrid Reapers was incredible. However, his first priority was the survival of his troops, and he would not compromise their safety by trying to puzzle this out now.

‘Tola! Concentrate the command squad’s fire on the enemy Reapers. Flight Captain Matthias, begin your bombing runs. Once you’ve dropped your payload, assist the command squad in taking down those Hercs.’ Drew raised the transparent visor of the neuro-helmet and seized a comlink unit. He squeezed the transmit tab, then twisted the frequency dial until it rested at 113.72 - the standard military frequency. ‘Sergeant Drake!’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the static and battle chatter. ‘Ready and waiting, commander,’ came the reply, a gruff male voice.

‘I want you to take your squad and plant explosive charges in the Cybrid command node. It’s destruction should cripple their battlefield capabilities.’ Drew was nearly screaming at this point, such was the background interference. ‘Affirmitative, commander. On our way-’ Drake’s voice was cut off as the rumbling explosion of a saturation rocket shook the APC. However, Drew knew from the drone cameras recording the battle that the tiny vehicle was still functional.

***

The situation for Drew’s forces was becoming increasingly dire; the three Reapers had become a rallying point for the Cybrid forces. Acting-Commander Tola’s targeting computer had identified eleven Cybrids - two Hades, four Genocites, several Malignus’, and a few more light Cybrids. As he watched, a Cybrid Nihilus arrived and added it’s strength to the defence.

Tola activated his neuro-link. ‘Ilana, Garan - concentrate your fire on the Nihilus and the Reapers - if we can destroy them, their line should crumble.’

‘Affirmative, captain,’ came Ilana’s calm reply. Garan remained silent as usual, but obeyed. The two Juggernaughts turned and selected targets respectively: Garan took on the Cybrid war machine, whilst Ilana trained her weapons on the first of the Reapers. Shields crackled and fell as Tola watched, before his attention was dragged away by a Cybrid Parasite.

The tiny Cybrid skipped and hopped towards him, it’s four legs nimbly navigating the wreckage around it. Pausing defiantly before him, it fired, first with it’s light lasers, which had virtually no effect on Tola’s Reaper, then with a missile launched from the machines back. The exposion was cushioned by his shields, but it knocked him back, before he forced the Herc forward. The Cybrid stood it’s ground, snapping off laser bursts at him as he approached. It’s defiance was ended as Tola brought the Reaper’s foot down hard. The Parasite strained to resist, but the Cybrid’s shields had not been designed to resist the weight of a ninety-ton Herc - and nor had it’s structure. A brief blue flare could be seen as the shields collapsed, and then the machine was crushed almost flat. Three of the Parasite’s spider-like legs could still be seen, sticking out from beneath the Herc’s foot.

Tola paused to check his surroundings. Garan had left his target crippled after fierce fire; the Nihilus stood stock still, a smoking statue. Both arms were missing, and deep grooves and cracks could be seen all over it’s massive body.

Ilana, in the second Jugernaught, was not faring as well. Her Herc was moving with a limp, and the barrel of a heavy laser hung limply at it’s side. But, assisted by Garan, she fought on, the two Juggernaughts not unlike the twin towers of a citadel which repelled wave after wave of invaders.

Then Tola’s Herc shook, and his vision went black momentarily. Twisting his Herc’s torso, he saw that one of the Cybrid Hades had snuck behind him, striking where his shields were weakest. The Cybrid fired again, and the Reaper succumbed to the barrage. The Herc collapsed forwards, falling more like a huge, dead oak than anything else.

The Reaper landed heavily, and a section of the Herc’s interior tore free, and plunged into the cockpit, impaling Tola, trapping as he was by his seat’s restraints.

As his life ebbed away, Tola saw five black objects speeding low across the moon’s surface, heading straight for him.

‘The angels of death come for me,’ he thought, and with that allowed his mind to slip into darkness.

***

The ‘angels of death’ were, in fact, the squadron of Razor aircraft, which had previously hung back from the battlefield. But now, their arrival, along with that of the second company of Hercs, tipped the battle in Drew’s favour.

The Hades which had felled Tola spotted the aerospace craft and fired, resulting in a lucky hit which tore the wing from one of the fighters. The pilot, her Razor spinning out of control, intended to make sure that her death was not in vain - she fought to bring her craft under control, and steered it straight into the Hades. They collided violently, but neither machine exploded. The Cybrid was torn nearly in half by the impact of fighter ramming into it’s torso, and the aerospace craft was crushed, first by the collision with the Cybrid, then again as it’s nose passed through and burrowed into the moon’s hard surface. The pilot somehow still lived in the shattered ruin of her Razor, but the canopy was lost, and she quickly died in the hostile atmosphere.

Her wingmates all survived, their fighters completely intact, and were currently strafing the Cybrid line, felling a weakened Reaper along with several medium and light Cybrids. Only one of the Reapers remained, Garan and Ilana having destroyed their target, and the Cybrids now tried to flee, but the second company, still at full strength, blocked their retreat, whilst the first company and the command squad pushed them back. The Cybrid’s were crushed between the two lines, and as more fell, the battle seemed won.

***

Drew had almost forgotten about the squad of infantry he had sent to dispatch the cybrid command centre, caught up as he was in the heat of battle. It was not until he heard the strangled cries from the comlink that he remembered.

‘Somebody! Somebody, anybody! Can anyone pick this up?! Please, someone!’ Drew recognised Sergeant Drake’s voice, but the usual gruffness was gone - it seemed to Drew to have been replaced by a note of terror.

He snatched up the comlink: ‘Sergeant, this is Commander Bradley. What is it?’

‘Commander, you have to pull your troops out now! This instant! It might already be too late, but you’ve got to goddamn try!’ The sergeant was calmer now, but his voice was still strained.

‘What is the problem, sergeant? Why should we pull out?’ replied Drew, trying to keep his voice down.

‘It’s a bomb, sir! A freakin’ huge bomb!’

***

For a moment, Drew stared at the comlink in disbelief, struck dumb for a second time. After what seemed like an eternity - in reality, no more than a few seconds - Drew regained his voice.

‘A bomb?’ he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. ‘What-’

‘A big one! It has the look of the old mining explosives, but I can’t be sure - and I don’t think I want to find out, sir!’

‘Pull your squad out, sergeant. Now!’ Drake did not wait to reply, cutting off the link as soon as Drew had finished.

Drew returned to his neuro-computer, moving as fast as he could, and trying desperately to prevent himself from panicking.

***

‘Attention all units!’ Drew’s thought-command boomed out inside the cockpit of every Herc and aircraft left on the field. ‘You are to pull out, now. This is no joke - your lives depend on it. Repeat, pull out now! That is a direct order!’

Most of the pilots were confused - victory was now assured, so why the order to retreat? Some stood about, distractedly snapping off shots, whilst others threw themselves back into the attack. A few obeyed the order, backing their Hercs away, firing the occasional shot at surviving Cybrids.

Drew’s voice sounded again. ‘Get out of there, god damn it! There’s a bomb primed to go off in the command centre, and if you don’t retreat now - we’re all dead!’

His words cut through the thoughts of every single pilot. This they could not ignore; and three-quarters of the survivors immediatly turned and fled, their Hercs moving at top speed towards the dropship. The others, unwilling to leave their backs open to enemy fire, backpedalled their Hercs slowly whilst maintaining heavy fire. One suicidally brave pilot powered his Demon straight towards the Cybrids, hoping to buy time for the others to escape. The squadron of Razors strafed the Cybrid lines one final time before speeding back to the Inviduous, pouring weapon and shield energy into their engines in their desperate attempt to retreat. Sergeant Drake and his infantry, having seen the bomb, had wasted no time, and were already in the APC, racing away from the base. The last of the backpedalling Hercs turned and joined their comrade’s flight, but still the Demon stood, firing volley after volley into the Cybrid lines. It’s pilot, grimly accepting his inevitable death, triggered his autocannon and sprayed high-calibre shells across the Cybrids. Then, as the Cybrids turned their attention to him, he diverted all of his Hercs shields to the front, and prepared himself for the killing blow.

***

The scene back at the dropship was hectic - remote drones were being recalled, the Razors had begun to dock, systems were being prepared for takeoff - and still the bulk of the army had not appeared.

But then, over the moon’s curving horizon, the head and upper torso of a Sensei appeared. The rest of it’s body could soon be seen, and more Hercs rapidly rose into view.

‘Clear the docking bays!’ screamed Drew, ‘just get them on board - the pilots can get out later. And don’t fix the restraints - there’s no time! Just leave them powered up, and let the gyros do their job!’

Within a matter of minutes, the Sensei and several of the other faster Hercs were aboard, their pilots breathing deep sighs of relief. More of the units were fast approaching, and would soon be joining their companions. Drew wiped his face, clearing the perspiration with a damp cloth - perhaps they might make it after all.

He was nearly correct - within ten minutes, nearly every Herc was onboard - the exceptions being the two enormous Juggernaughts, who had only just passed into view over the horizon. What was more, they appeared to be slowing!

Drew cursed under his breath, but gave the order to wait. Ten torturous seconds passed, and then his comlink crackled on.

‘Dropship Inviduous, this is Herc pilot Garan. Myself and Herc pilot Ilana have made a decision: you must go. Now.’

Drew stared at the still figures, still several kilometres away. ‘I can’t leave you!’ he gasped.

‘You must, commander,’ came the steady reply, ‘we will take at least twenty minutes to reach you, and you simply don’t have that much time. Go. Now.’

Drew seemed about to protest again, but then something flashed across his face, like he had remembered something. He deactivated the comlink, and turned to the dropship’s pilot. ‘Launch her,’ he said, gruffly. The pilot did not argue.

The Inviduous fired it’s engines, and leapt an immediate twenty feet - the pilot was not wasting any time. ‘Now turn her towards the Juggernaughts,’ ordered Drew. The pilot looked at him confusedly, before realisation spread across her face.

‘Yes,’ said Drew, ‘we’re going to make an emergency pickup.’

***

Herc pilot Ilana, seated in her colossal Juggernaught, leaned back and closed her eyes as the dropship lifted. They have gone, she thought, and both IO and Garan will soon die. Then she steeled herself for the blast that would tear apart both her and her Herc like paper.

Then she heard Garan whisper something quietly. When she opened her eyes, they widened at the image which presented itself: the Inviduous, roaring towards both Garan and herself. ‘Oh my...’ she whispered in disbelief. Then, the huge craft collided with her, and she felt the sensation of falling, her viewpoint spinning rapidly before her. Then, as the spinning halted abruptly, and she had cleared her head of dizziness, she realised that the ground was passing beneath her, and her Herc was still more or less upright. She was puzzled, but when the moon’s surface began to pull away from her, she realised what had happened: her Juggernaught was somehow attached to the dropship in some way. Then a voice began speaking through the comlink, and she concentrated hard, the neuro-helmet passing the sound onto her.

‘This is Herc Commander Bradley - Ilana, Garan - it’s good to have you back with us.’

***

Within a matter of minutes, deep space construction Hercs from the Inviduous had disconnected the two heavy Hercs from the dropship’s magnetic landing clamps, and had hauled them aboard. As the relieved pilots joined their companions in the mess, preparations were begun for the jump to hyperspace. Again, this did not take long - the ships crew were fueled by the thought that although the bomb was now several dozen kilometres away, the shockwave from the explosion would still be capable of tearing the dropship apart. Preparations were soon complete, and the local sun’s gravitational pull was deemed weak enough not to seriously affect the jump calculations.

As soon as the crew and systems were respectively charged and restrained, the jump was made. From the pilot’s perspective, the stars seemed to become infinitely long lines, stretching ahead indefinitely, while from an observers view - had their been one - it was the craft itself that was stretched to ridiculous proportions. Then, in an instant, the dropship snapped to a pinpoint and vanished into hyperspace.

Barely a second later, the bomb in the Cybrid base exploded. The atomic device scoured clean the moon’s surface, before the main force of the blast cracked the planetoid in two. Seismic shockwaves carried the force further, and within less than a second, the moon was torn into fragments no larger than a man. These pieces were pushed outward by the explosion, most eventually pulling into orbit around nearby planets, others drifting off into deep space. The moon of Krell would live on only in soulless databanks, and in the hearts and minds of those who had survived it’s perils.

***

Sarah Brindley found Drew in one of the dropships observation domes, staring out into the inpenetrable blue-black of hyperspace.

‘Drew! I could n’t find you anywhere, sir,’ she said. Drew said nothing.

‘I, uh, have some reports, sir,’ she continued. Drew nodded, which she took as an indication that she should read them.

‘Of the Hercs that returned, there is no crippling damage,’ she began, ‘and health and stability among the bioderms is also high. One of Sergeant Drake’s men has died - shrapnel punctured his lung while boarding the APC - but the rest are all ok. Garan and Ilana are very relieved to be back, and, well, that’s about all of it.’ She turned to go, chafed by his silence, but stopped as he spoke.

‘What was the name of that pilot?’ he said, his gaze not shifting. ‘Pilot, sir?’ she replied, almost afraid - Drew’s voice had exhibited so much control and restraint. She realised he was now terrifyingly angry, whipped into a fury about something.

‘The Herc pilot in the Demon.’ he said, steel in his voice.

She swallowed nervously before replying. ‘That was squad leader Kouras, sir. He’s - he was - one of mine.’

‘I want a decent burial service arranged for our return. And a plaque will be put in the bioderms quarters, commemorating his service.’

‘I’ll see to it myself, sir,’ she whispered, and turned to go, then stopped.

‘Drew - do...do you know who planted that bomb? And the Reapers? Do you-’

‘NO!’ screamed Drew. As she cringed, he whirled to face her, and spoke again, the anger suddenly drained from his voice. ‘Sarah! I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Please, forgive me - I don’t know who planned it. But I swear,’ he added, some of the earlier fire returning, ‘that if I do find out who did it, then nothing will stop me from reaching them. And they will pay a thousand fold for those we lost.’

Sarah was fearful of his rage, but understood his anger - to Drew, the pilots were far more important than the machines they piloted, and he had lost a good many pilots today. She understood that he needed help - both in coping with what had happened, and with finding the human traitors responsible.

Slowly, carefully, she walked over to stand beside him, and slipped an arm around his waist. He stiffened, then relaxed, and returned the gesture. The two of them stood together, staring silently out into the void, as the dropship continued it’s steady journey back towards herc base.

Whatever Drew faced, Sarah would face alongside him. As would Crow, Garan, Ilana - all those under his command stood by him, and, as this knowledge flooded into his head, Drew’s indecision was purged from him forever.

Terminology

xxx PE: Year Post-Earthsiege. Measured in UniCorp years, which are approximately half of a terran year.

AD Weapons: A slang term, taken from twentieth century ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ atomic weapons. Assured Destruction weapons include the 280mm ATX autocannon and the Hand Of God (HOG) missile. These two are the most powerful weapons in the UniTech arsenal.

Autocannon: Autocannons and chainguns are very similar in that they fire rapid, high-velocity metal slugs. Chainguns have been found to be highly inefficient above 30mm size, but autocannon range from 20mm to 280mm shells. These weapons are most effective if an opponents shields are down. If this is not the case, the shells’ velocity will be reduced by the shields ‘cushioning’ effect, and impact will be less violent, resulting in lesser damage.

BGM: Base Genetic Matrix, the DNA sample from which a bioderm is created.

Bioderm: Protoplasm based clone. Bioderms were created for the dangerous tasks mankind shunned. They have limited lifespans and their bodies’ chemical structure is unstable, but this is negated by their strength, speed and intelligence. Their primary modern use is as pilots in the renewed war against the Cybrids.

Cybrids: The complete history of these genocidal machines is too long to be included here, but, in brief, they are mechanical super-computers capable of a variety of tasks, including piloting combat hercs. Their creation sparked off violent wars on earth, which led to nuclear conflict, and as the last humans struggled to survive, the Cybrids came to a decision; that they were far superior than their barbaric masters, and they set about exterminating the humans, to prevent the humans destroying themselves and the Cybrids with them. Two terrible wars (see Earthsieges) were waged, humans emerging victorious from both - barely. The Cybrids that survived fled into deep space, only returning recently in 274 P.E.

Drones: Drones are simple robots, no larger than two metres cubed, that can be used for different jobs. They are not as useful, flexible or effective as hercs, but make good sentries or remote battle observers.

Dropship: Enormous aerospace craft, which possess both the ability of deep space navigation and of planetary ‘drops’.

Earthsiege: There were two great earthsieges: cataclysmic wars which nearly resulted in the destruction of the human race. Both wars were waged between humans and the cybrids.

ELF: Electromagnetic Flux. A variation on electromagnetic pulse technology, the ELF delivers a ‘whip’ of energy which bypasses shields to damage the target.

EMP: Electromagnetic Pulse. Electromagnetics have been found to be the most effective method of suppressing shields.

Exec.: Executive officer who tends to the organisational details of a military unit, thus freeing the general or comnander to concentrate on planning their strategy.

GCSI: Genetic Computer Strand Implants - a coded DNA strip which links with a bioderms brain to increase skills, reaction times, intelligence and so on.

Herc: Commonly accepted slang for ‘Herculean Fighting Machine’. Hercs are the enormous robots piloted by bioderms, cybrids, and, occasionally, humans. They can be used both for combat and labour, although few non-government sponsored organisations can afford one.

Lasers: There are numerous types of combat lasers, from the SE400 to the SP1200. Essentially they are projectors which use highly focused light to burn a hole through shields and armour.

Missiles: Or ‘rockets’. Powerful, propelled explosives. Extremely effective against unshielded targets, but shields prevent shrapnel damage and negate explosive shockwaves.

Modules: Modules are components which can be added to Hercs to improve performance or add an ability eg. mining. There are dozens of different modules available.

MSI: The Main Synthetic Intelligence is the genetic super-computer that governs UniTech operations. It is effectively in control of UniTech, a fact which unnerves many commanders. The MSI is based on hybrid bioderm/cybrid computer technology.

PBW: Particle Beam Weapon, incorporating advanced UniTech particle dissection systems. There are a number of variations on this weapon, but the basic design remains the same.

Protoplasm: Also plasmatter and endoplasm, see Bioderms.

Shields: Shields are energy fields created by a small generator. They refract (when struck by light-based weapons like lasers) and cushion impact and explosions.

Turrets: Turrets are small buildings, often equipped with lasers or missile racks. They are the first line of defence in any base.

Unclassed weapons: Many of the weapons used by hercs belong to no particular family but are grouped together under ‘miscellaneous’ for convenience. These include particle guns, plasma weapons, fusion weapons, particle beamers, neutron beam weapons, neutron guns, thermal weapons, compression weapons and ‘hybrid’ weapons - weapons which cimbine two or more types of technology. ‘Hybrids v. Cybrids’ is a popular motto in the military.

UniCorp: Once the Resistance, UniCorp is the huge corporation that controls Earth and it’s colonies. UniTech is a division of UniCorp that commands it’s military forces. UniTech military is composed of Commanders who are equipped with several hercs, ‘derms and credits, and are payed bounties on Cybrids. A promotion and grant may be given to a skilled commander if they are deemed worthy.

Shaun Green, 1998