Tag: serial work

The combat golem shook and staggered back, internal systems processing the force of the kick. It determined that it had not received lethal damage and continued the attack, stabbing down at her viciously. She hissed as one of its claws pierced her tunic, withdrawing with traces of blood upon its edge. The golem was not allowed to inflict lethal wounds, but it could injure an unwary opponent all the same. She was slowing down. Sensing weakness, the golem pressed its offensive, jabbing at her with its many limbs. She grabbed its forearms tightly, servos hissing as the unit attempted to pull itself out of her grasp. She brought her knee up into its underside and the golem shuddered, but again it determined this not to be a lethal-level attack. She threw the golem back, buying herself the time to climb to her feet, a single drop of blood slipping down her side from where the unit’s claw had broken her skin. Her arms and legs felt as if they were made of lead and the golem still functioned. Damp with sweat, her outfit clung to her skin. The automaton prepared to a charge, but she held up a hand. The machine froze in its tracks, recognizing the order to abate. It was only a training match; there was nothing on the line, nothing to prove against a simple automaton. But it kept her fit, kept her toned and ready. Another moment was coming, one in which she wouldn’t be pitted against a simple device, but against flesh-and-blood Enemy. In that fight, there would be no surrender, nor could there be. It was what she was, what they all were. There was no creation without destruction, no glory without sacrifice. No survival without murder.

The ship shook. Three – four – times in rapid succession. “What happened?” a junior officer asked, his dirt-streaked face drawn, eyes wide. “Are they firing on us?” Goldstein laid a hand on the cadet’s shoulder. “Steady, lad. And no, they aren’t. Unless I miss my guess, they hit us with breaching pods. We’ve been boarded.”

The Lefu were well over seven feet tall, though Foraker had no idea how much of that was the armour; Concord heavy power armour made its wearers into giants, too. Whatever else they were, the bastards knew how to fight; they began spraying suppressing fire at the heaviest of the militia’s positions from arm-mounted cannons that were bigger than a man’s leg. Some of the aliens had bulky equipment on their other arms, soon revealed to be miniature shield wall projectors. Others appeared to have sensor and communications gear; the rest had rather large, rather unpleasant looking gauntlets that crackled with energy. One of the Lefu knelt behind a comrade’s shield, taking advantage of the cover to ready his weapon – whatever it was, it was bigger and more unpleasant looking than the tri-barreled monsters his companions carried. Or was it a her? An it? Each helmet was stylized into a skeletal visage, betraying nothing about the species that wore them. The kneeling solider fired and a chunk of the building across the street exploded, along with the soldiers that had been in there, burning rubble and dislodged walls and ceilings cascading down into the rubble-choked roads.