Super-Soldier in Another World

“Final Kind cruiser inbound!” the ensign shouted, several blaring red monitors under-lighting her face as she scrambled toward the intercom “Dragon-class cruiser inbound! Prepare for combat!”

Captain Henry Stol maintained his air of calm command despite this harrowing news. He needed his crew members to see that he wasn’t buckling under this pressure, or they would follow suit. Henry would need to put on a brave face for the crew, to show them that their captain had a plan for how to escape. Henry, knowing that it would aid his crew's morale, kept his features neutral.

Internally though, Henry saw little hope of survival.

A Dragon-class cruiser was the largest and most deadly of all the Final Kind’s spacecraft… Henry had been through some close calls with the Final Kind’s fleet, but he and his crew had never faced a Dragon-Class all by themselves…

His ship, the Sparrow, had managed to beat the odds for the past six months, avoiding Final Kind ships and destroying any that had gotten too close. The Sparrow shouldn’t have even made it this long… Deep down, Henry knew that. He rubbed a hand through his short black hair, white-winged at the temples. His crow's feet felt like they were deepening with every passing moment, another sign of his growing stress and age. With the Dragon appearing now, he was precisely aware of every wrinkle furrowing as he thought about what he would have to do to save his ship.

He adjusted the collar of his white uniform. It was an Eighth-Arm ship captain's garb, mostly white and trimmed with red, it made him easily stick out compared to the rest of the crew. He had never been partial to the twin tails that streaked down from the coat to nearly brush the floor, but the uniform was mandatory.

Henry then pursed his lips and lifted his chin to face his crew. There were around thirty people manning the gunmetal-gray amphitheater right now, max capacity. Technicians, weapons personnel and shield jockeys all fiddled about with their terminals, making calls to the crew below decks to give orders. Henry might not have been able to tell the difference between all of them had their one-piece jumpsuits all been the same color. Red for weapons, blue for shields, and green for techies, though at a glance it didn't seem that any of them were performing their tasks any differently from one another. One terminal looked much the same as another after all, at least to Henry.

These men and women had gone through six months of hell and were still willing to fight whatever came the Sparrow's way. Henry would need that bravery very soon. He turned back to the holo-deck and frowned as nervous sweat rolled down his brow.

This little Sparrow-class frigate would be turned into a floating hunk of charred gray metal unless they got out of here, fast… but the Talon beams the Dragon possessed would easily rip them out of any long jump… That really only left one option. The Talon beams wouldn’t be able to stop a short jump, that was unless the Final Kind expected it.

He was certain that they wouldn’t foresee such an otherwise foolish maneuver from the Sparrow. Henry would have to bank on that… He turned to address the amphitheater, the several crewmen continuing to fiddle with their terminals as they spoke to one another in nervous whispers. The chamber was large enough for his voice to echo, and the little speaker implanted in his throat ensured that his orders wouldn’t go unheard.

“You hear that?” Henry asked his crew, his voice deep and clear, the voice modulator installed in his throat sending his words booming through the amphitheater, “They had to send a Dragon after a Sparrow, now what does that tell you?” He paused for a moment, the eyes of his crew glued to him as he stepped over to the glowing holo-deck, “It means they’re scared of us, and they should be. We’ve been on the run for six months since they took Earth, and every ship they sent after us has never returned.” Henry then clasped his hands behind his back, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He would need to give them the truth now, “We aren’t going to escape, you all need to know that right now. The Dragon can pull us right out of light-speed with its talon beam… Knowing that I want to take the beast down with us. If you remember, the Sparrow has been outfitted with an experimental weapon.” Henry explained, pausing for a brief moment, “I think this would be the appropriate time for a field test. Are you all with me?”

Nervous silence came over the amphitheater, interrupted only by the sounds of beeping terminals. The silence stretched on long enough that Henry began to wonder if his men were all about to break out into panic. Thankfully his worry proved to be unfounded, as the crew all shouted their agreement, every man and woman wanting to go down fighting rather than submit to the rule of the Final Kind. Henry smiled at the echoing enthusiasm of his crew, a single tear threatening to slide down his cheek.

He wiped it away, turning to the holo-deck next to him and pressing his thumb down on the glowing button. It was designed to detect any spacecraft nearby and display them for his crew to see. That way, they could all come up with a plan of action on how to engage the enemy, for they could all see what they were dealing with.

A crimson glow illuminated the amphitheater, drowning out the bright overhead lights and showing a horrifying monstrosity to his men. Henry knew now why the brass referred to this as ‘Dragon’. It wasn’t merely in reference to its massive size, there was something draconic about the craft. The head of the ship almost looked like a horned skull, the ‘snout’ stretching far from the thick scaly body. They weren’t really scales of course, but the hull’s design gave it that impression, looking nigh invulnerable. The gaping maw of the Dragon housed the ship's most dangerous weapon, a planet-scorching plasma cannon.

Thankfully, The Final Kind wouldn’t use such a weapon on this little frigate. They only ever used it on worlds that refused to… comply with their laws. What Henry was really worried about were the thousands of other weapons dotting the craft, all capable of ripping through this ship’s shields with ease. The Sparrow did have one advantage here, however, and that was the sheer size difference between the two ships.

Henry knew that the Dragon-class ships were meant for engaging multiple large opponents, not single little birdies like this one. If they could just get close enough… they could detonate the weapon point-blank, and Dragon or not, the ship would be destroyed… Sparrow and Dragon both. The Sparrow would have to do the short jump and hope that the Talons didn’t manage to snatch them. Henry doubted that they would expect such a maneuver, and again, that was exactly what he was betting on.

He was about to start shouting orders when suddenly, several small red blips emerged from the Dragon's aft. They raced toward the Sparrow at a near-blinding speed, causing some of the crew to gasp in terror. These blips were thankfully not normal combat craft, for they were far too small.

“Mosquitos!” One of the crew shouted, looking up from his terminal, “Hundreds of them!”

Henry went wide-eyed before saying aloud, “So they don’t want to outright destroy the ship…”

Did that mean they knew about the weapon? Were they going to try and take it so they could reverse-engineer it? He couldn’t allow that to happen. The Final Kind’s arsenal was deadly enough.

“Get ready for a short jump, I want to be right next to the Dragon.” Henry ordered, clasping his hands behind his back and straightening his posture.

“Aye-aye sir, but the Mosquitos are going to hit us before we can jump!” The ensign yelled, still standing next to the intercom.

The poor girl had been promoted to ensign quite early in her life, she would have made for a fantastic captain… It was too bad that she'd never live to wear the coat Henry now sported. Ensign gray would just have to do, but she wore it proudly as she firmed her features, waiting for his command.

“Then wake him up,” Henry ordered.

“...Aye sir.” She replied, thumbing the intercom. “Ground troops, Mosquitos imminent! Arm yourselves and get ready for combat! Cryo station, unfreeze Hoplite thirty-seven!”

…

…

…

“You heard her, get him goin’!” Hoplite heard a man say outside his cryopod.

“I pressed the button as soon as I heard her sir, he should be unfreezing now, probably conscious.” Another voice, a woman replied.

He could feel the nano-freeze melting, seeping out from his pores like sweat. The experience was mildly painful, as it was every time he was awoken, but he had learned long ago to ignore the pain. Terna would not tolerate weakness from him. It would be best to remain still until his casket was opened, moving around before the nano-freeze completely thawed could cause significant damage to his flesh. Enough damage to potentially force him into going Wendigo. If they were unfreezing him, they’d need Hoplite to stay sane for the coming combat.

“Tubes are draining, nano-freeze capsules are almost full.” That same voice said.

That was good, soon Hoplite would be out and in the fray again. He was only ever awoken when it was time to fight. As was a Hoplite’s purpose. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar hiss of his cryo-casket opening. His eyes were still frozen shut, but the lids would thaw soon.

Hoplite then felt the casket rising from the ground, the grind and hiss of the mechanisms audible through the thin metal of his casket. When he could no longer hear the mechanisms working, he knew that his feet would be pointing toward the ground, ready for him to step out. Hoplite’s casket opened finally, and warm air –warm compared to the inside of the casket anyhow– greeted his skin. He took a deep breath before fully emerging. Hoplite felt the smooth cold metal beneath his feet, and he relished the sensation. He didn’t like being in the cryopod of course, but he did what he was ordered to do, without question.

He felt an exceptionally warm towel get draped over his head, of which he was grateful for. He pressed the cloth against his face, breathing in the heat and letting it soak into his emptied pores. He opened his eyes then, seeing the white fabric of the towel, white light seeping through the thin cloth.

Hoplite then removed the towel from his head, wrapping it around his pillar-like waist and staring down at the two cryo-officers standing in front of him. They stared back, apparently awed by his presence, as all humans were when they saw him. He was a human too, of course, but Hoplite knew why they were awed. Hoplites stood head and shoulders above the tallest of unmodified humans and had the enhanced musculature to match their great height.

“Uh… welcome back sir.” The first officer, a large man with short graying dark hair said.

A man of his size likely wasn’t used to being dwarfed in this way, hence his reaction, Hoplite figured. The woman next to him was far shorter, barely coming up to Hoplite’s waist. He figured she was smaller than the average woman at least. They both wore the same light blue one-piece jumpsuit, indicating their role as cryo officers. Despite the size of the cryo station, it only needed around four people to operate it, two per shift.

Hoplite furrowed his brow as he noticed that all of the other cryo-caskets were empty. Rows upon rows of rectangular glass containers with metal backing sat completely vacant, at least on this level. There were four levels above the one Hoplite’s casket was kept, but if these ones were bare of occupants, he doubted that there would be many above. The Sparrow clearly wasn’t running with a skeleton crew. With the exception of Hoplite’s casket, the rest were all uniform, capable of fitting humans of any normal size. Hoplite caskets, of course, had to be made larger, and as opposed to clear glass, constructed from solid tungsteel.

“Sir, we got Mosquitos incoming.” The man said, “We might not even got time to get ya suited up.”

An unfortunate thing, but he could still crush skulls with ease, even without his armor. Despite that, he would prefer to have it on. Hoplite didn’t know how many craft were coming, but he would be twice as effective with it on. Without a word, he made his way toward the armory, already knowing where it was located. Hoplite may have only done a sweep of the Sparrow once before, but he had been drilled to remember every Ternan ship's floor plans. How long had it been since he’d been in cryo? He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Earth had been evacuated. Perhaps a few weeks, maybe a month or two.

He walked quickly, letting the towel fall from his waist without care. He was not bothered by nudity, but he had noticed that normal humans were made uncomfortable by it.

Hoplite had not felt the need to hold up the towel however, he would need both hands free to don his armor so he would have needed to discard it anyway. He heard the two cryo-officers struggle to keep pace with him… Just why were they following? They quickly passed through several mechanized sliding doors and gray metal hallways filled with humans buzzing about, all only stopping to stare at Hoplite as he passed. Hoplite’s joints were still stiff, making it difficult to move much faster than this slow stride. He was still making fantastic headway despite that, after all, his ‘slow stride’ was still as fast as a human could sprint.

At some point, the cryo-officers had decided to stop following after him, knowing that their jobs were done. Soon, he entered the armory, stark naked before a scene of chaos. Marines, divers, and exo-troops all quickly began donning their equipment, pulling rifles out of lockers and stepping into auto assemblers to get heavy armor donned. Rows upon rows of lockers and auto assemblers stretched out before him, the hinges opening and closing over the hissing mechanical limbs working to armor up the troops nearby.

Soon, a marine caught sight of him, staring dumbstruck. He saluted, slamming his right fist onto his left shoulder. The black metal of the marine's armor gave a resounding clang from the force of the impact, and soon more soldiers followed suit after the first. There were warriors from almost every branch of the Eighth Arm in the armory… several had made it onto the Sparrow during the evacuation it seemed, a good thing considering the conflict to come. Having marines, exo-troops, and divers at Hoplite’s back would make fending off the Final Kind all the easier.

Marines were the first troops to go into the fray, and the last ones out. Wearing a strong yet lightweight armor made from tungsteel, they were incredibly effective as the tip of Terna's unbreakable spear; destroying the Final Kind's frontline forces with brutal efficiency despite the standard ballistic weaponry they often carried.

As powerful as laser weaponry was, it was also hard to produce and simple ballistic weapons had historically proven to get the job done for most aliens. Confident eyes tinged with anxiety regarded one another beneath open-faced black helmets as they gave reassuring smiles to one another. Brothers and sisters in arms they had each-others back more so than any other soldier, their average squad cohesion ranking just below that of the Hoplites themselves.

Exo-troops already in their suits attempted to repeat the salute as best as they could with their limited flexibility. Their suits hissed as their thick mechanized limbs moved, but it was barely audible over the hustle and bustle in the armory. It required special training in order to operate the heavy power armor, and the more advanced variants required specialized bionics to be able to utilize them. The gray armor was bulky and broad, with advanced servos and gears built into the limbs to allow the carrying of heavy munitions. Hoplite could see Gatling guns, both the standard ballistics and the occasional laser variants strapped to the undersides of their arms. As a result of this, their arms were almost totally locked at a ninety-degree angle. The flaw with exo-troops was their lack of good mobility, being more like a walking weapons platform, rather than just infantry. That was fine as long as they were facing their intended targets and had a helping of marines to guard their flanks. Joysticks jutted up under their hands, a button on each that would unleash hellfire upon whatever poor alien scum would dare stand before the might of Terna’s Eighth Arm. There were other mountable weapons that exo-troops could utilize besides the Gatlings, but Hoplite didn't think that explosive ordinance would be permitted for this mission.

Divers that had been fastening small compact jet-packs to their backs stared as well, their shocked faces hidden beneath their black reflective visors. Divers wore the lightest armor out of all Terna's forces, to allow maximum efficiency with their equipment. The armor they sported was dark brown and tight to the skin, with plates of black tungsteel placed here and there to guard vital areas. Their purpose was for hit-and-run tactics, flying in and out quickly to take advantage of exposed flanks with shotguns and automatic rifles, not to mention grenades. Other divers hovered high in the air, almost out of sight to take out priority targets with specialized lightweight sniper rifles. Not everyone could become a diver of course, the jet packs functioned at their best when they weren't under too much strain... as a result, there was a weight limit. You had to be below one-hundred-twenty pounds to be eligible to be a diver, which meant that the most common divers were women. There were men too of course, but they had to be of slight build to be eligible to take the training.

As Hoplite passed through the armory and toward the end of this wide chamber, more and more of the soldiers took notice of him. They all continued to stare, dumbstruck even as he scanned his retinas at the keypad at the end of the room. The heavy metal doors next to the pad hissed open immediately afterward, sliding shut as soon as Hoplite stepped over the threshold.

“Welcome Hoplite thirty-seven.” A robotic voice said from the intercom.

Hoplite ignored the automated greeting, instead looking to the auto-assembler at the center of this small chamber. A single light illuminated the round assembler, reflecting off the sleek white metal. The machine looked like nothing more than a big metal ring, and essentially that was what it was. It would mostly be the dozens of articulated mechanical limbs that surrounded the ring that’d be attaching his armor. The boots and gauntlets of his armor were already locked in place on the assembler, once he donned them, the process would begin. Wasting no more time, he approached the assembler.

The gauntlets and boots locked his hands and feet into place, the assembler whirring to life as the robotic arms surrounding him began work. The ring spun around rapidly as mechanical arms attached every individual piece of armor to his body, the process finally ending with the machine sliding his helmet on. When Hoplite stepped out of the auto-assembler, he took a brief moment to look into a mirror that hung on the wall next to the door. He was pleased to see that there hadn’t been any errors with its assembly.

The pitch-black Adium armor he wore was trimmed with blood-red lines, indicating his rank within the Hoplites. The knee plates were solid red, his wide shoulder plates encircled by an equally red trim, a high rank to those who could recognize the pattern’s significance. Though with the complete and total destruction of the Hoplites, it was meaningless.

He was the last one remaining as far as he knew.

Hoplite then turned his head, making sure that the powerful mechanical limbs didn’t scratch any portion of the advanced combat helmet.

Unlike other models of power armor, his helmet didn’t have a visor. For all intents and purposes, it was little more than a rounded hunk of metal, the only opening being for donning and removal. He could only see by function of several self-repairing micro-cameras implanted in the suit. They were everywhere, on the front and back of the helmet, to behind his knees and the front of his shoulders. Normally, he only had two sections of cameras active at a time, one front and one back. Whenever he tried to have all the cameras active it just gave him a headache. Two pairs of heavy-duty flashlights were also installed, on the front and back of his helmet.

They were almost unnecessary, what with his motion tracker and the option for both thermal and night vision. Yet there was one advantage to having the nigh-archaic flashlights installed. Much like humans, most aliens could be stunned by the light it could emit. A bump of his chin on one of the tiny pads inside the helmet could activate what most referred to as ‘seizure mode’, but he rarely used it. This was simply due to the fact that it would also throw off the aim of his comrades.

He could control what cameras he had active in the same way, bumping a pad to allow him to cycle through the functions. Hoplite’s default camera layout was simple, leaving one camera active in front and the other to watch his back. It had taken some getting used to, but once he had mastered it, nothing could sneak up on him. Three-hundred and sixty degrees of vision proved immeasurably useful when it was him alone against an army.

The rest of the suit seemed to be in good order, with no scratches along its sleek frame. Well, to him it was sleek anyhow, compared to the older models. Regular humans had taken to calling it the ‘fridge-suit’, a name which had stuck amongst the soldiery. Perhaps it was just an alternative name for the Phalanx armor that command had never told him about? He could certainly see why the comparison was made between his suit and a fridge. The suit’s arms and legs, and the large torso plate particularly, were broad and blocky, with the corners only slightly rounded off. This armor was built to take as much damage as possible, so it had been given the sturdiest construction possible. This durability was greatly amplified with a kinetic shield that would deflect projectiles and even absorb explosions. Even without the shield, the thick Adium plates would be capable of defending him against practically anything. To this day, nothing had managed to pierce or melt the plating... fridge suit indeed.

He then turned to his locker, the tall metal container holding the tools necessary for destroying the coming invaders. Each weapon within had been specially crafted for a super-soldier’s oversized hands, most normal guns proving to be too small for a Hoplite to utilize in the field effectively. It wasn’t that Hoplite couldn’t use standard Eighth Arm equipment, it usually just meant that he would have to tear off the trigger guard first. The weapons within his locker had been sized for extra-large personnel and had been crafted to still be compatible with standard munitions.

He pulled it open, seeing his favored tools for expunging Final Kind filth. Hoplite wasted no time in swiping up his silvery ballistic pistol, magnetizing it, and a few extra magazines to his thigh. The power of the Fortis magnum was capable of punching right through kinetic shields and most types of Final Kind battle-plate with ease.

Hoplite then grabbed his rifle, sleek, black, and semi-automatic with an auto-tracking dot sight. It may not have been as powerful as the magnum, but its accuracy was second to none. To this day, Hoplite has never missed his mark with the Visus rifle.

He attached the Visus to his back plate, and grabbed the final item from the locker, keeping it clutched in his grip. A long-barreled black shotgun, its shells powerful enough to punch a hole through any alien that dared stand before it. It was a heavy thing and could double as a sturdy bludgeon, a perfect tool for close combat. There were no sights attached, it was unnecessary, whatever you fired at would turn to mist even with a glancing hit. This one was large enough that it looked like it should be an attachment for an exo-suit, but with the size of Hoplite’s hands and his greater strength, he could wield it as easily as a twig. The Magnus shotgun was his personal favorite instrument of destruction, capable of clearing entire rooms with a single shot.

He kept the Magnus in hand, taking the final item from the locker and tying it around his waist. A heavy-duty combat belt, equipped with ammo-filled tac pouches and a sheath for an arm-sized tungsteel combat knife. The Sectis knife would be necessary in close quarters, nothing could split flesh and metal quite like it. Once Hoplite was fully armed and ready, he emerged from the chamber, the Magnus in hand.

The armory had emptied out considerably it seemed, with only a few soldiers left struggling to don their gear. The Sparrow shook almost as soon as the door slid shut behind him, and he readied himself, aiming his shotgun at the surrounding walls of the Sparrow.

“The Mosquitos hit! They're drilling in, wherever you are, get ready!” The ensign shouted, “Keep them busy for as long as you can until we can jump!”

Jump? So they were running again… Earth may have been conquered, but surely there were other colonies out there still that they could go defend? Had humanity really lost? He began jogging toward the hallway, a group of marines trying to follow behind him. Through his back cameras, he could see the soldiers huffing and puffing as Hoplite’s light jog left them utterly in the dust. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate having help, it was just that Hoplite could not afford to slow down.

It didn’t take long before he found the first Mosquito tube, passing into a wide hallway and spotting his first victims. Little armored creatures with elephant-like gray skin and huge bug-like eyes stared at him with terror, rat-like teeth chittering in an unintelligible babble. They didn’t even come up to a normal human’s knees, but Hoplite knew that these creatures were more dangerous than they seemed. The little golden-glowing plasma rifles the creatures wielded could melt through a man at minimum charge. There were around twenty of them, groups moving apart from one another to begin combing the halls for victims. Hoplite had become familiar with every combat race that was a part of the Final Kind’s military, and he had killed more of this species than any other. They were often called Pugs by the troops, likely due to the shape of their faces, but the true name of their race was Lomi.

The go-to cannon fodder of the Final Kind, Pugs bred like rabbits and were too dumb to question their places but smart enough to fire a gun. Their armor was uniform, the same shade of red splashed haphazardly against hard plastic armor. Pugs were always meant to die - absorbing shots meant for the more useful members of the Final Kind’s military, so they gave them completely ineffective armor. It may have almost been better to let Pugs just go naked, for the hard plastic armor they wore was bulky and hard for them to move in.

Hoplite had always theorized that Pugs were only equipped with ineffective armor so that they would feel safer than they were. After all, it was better to have your cannon fodder feel like they’d be safe when doing a suicide charge. The Pugs trained their guns on him, the coiled rifles charging up to max power. The plasma rifles, like all Final Kind weapons, were as sleek as they were deadly, the barrel looking like a steel honeycomb. Hoplite could see down the barrels to the tiny golden plasma reactors within, knowing that even a single max-charge shot would be capable of melting through standard-issue marine plate. He had once put a bullet right down the center of the barrel and hit that reactor with devastating results. The resulting explosion usually matched that of a standard-issue frag grenade, but Hoplite wouldn’t be doing any trick shots unless he had ample opportunity.

Hoplite fired the Magnus, the powerful shells splattering gray blood and entrails all across the hall. The slugs that didn’t directly hit the Pugs ricocheted down the hall, denting the metal and flying through alien bodies left and right. A few shots bounced off his energy shield, draining it only by a fraction before they recharged. After that single shot, only three Pugs remained out of the twenty that had infested the hall, the trio of survivors screeching as they turned tail to flee down another hallway.

They were immediately gunned down before they could turn the corner, automatic rifles turning them to gray chunks of fleshy goo and sending sharp chunks of plastic flying. Hoplite darted down to the center of the hallway, hopping over bodies and pointing his gun down the Mosquito tube. The black interior of the tube was only lit by a series of dark red light strips, and Hoplite could see that it had been emptied of all occupants.

He immediately turned, running down the hall and rounding the corner where the Pugs had been reduced to gray chunks of viscera. The marine squad at the opposite end of the hall nearly opened fire on Hoplite as he sprinted toward them. Thankfully they held their fire once they realized what he was, not that the rounds would have had a chance of getting through his shield. They moved to greet him, but Hoplite rushed right past them, intent on finding more aliens to butcher before command put him back in cryo.

And oh he did find them. More Pugs than he could count got blasted away by his shotgun or had their skulls caved in with firm kicks. Eventually, he found the other aliens he knew would be on the ship, the larger, more deadly variants. He engaged in a gunfight with a tentacled Swaglay, the eldritch creature blasting him with rays of superheated plasma from the many tendril-mounted guns it held. It had a broad torso hidden beneath the many moving tendrils, its four insect-like legs skittering around to avoid gunfire. The armor it wore could stop small caliber rounds easily, but larger guns could punch through the scaled alloy like it was paper. He ended it quickly enough with a well-placed shot from the Visus rifle, punching through its octopi-like skull and sending the Pugs around it fleeing in terror.

He shot them all dead before he began maneuvering through Mosquito-pierced hallways, slaying Final Kind with the efficiency of a machine. Eventually, he came upon the vehicle bay, where hundreds of soldiers and aliens battled. Hoplite sniped more Swaglay and Pugs with the Visus rifle before turning his attention to the fliers. The large vehicle bay proved to be an ample combat theater for what the marines merely called Wasps. They were man-sized insectoid creatures with strong exoskeletons and two pairs of arms and legs… their racial name was Jaro, but Hoplite preferred to call them ‘Wasps’ as well. The buzzing of their massive translucent wings terrified the troops, but to Hoplite it was merely a nuisance.

At some point, he found himself next to a mounted turret, set up no doubt by the freshly melted corpse next to it. Hoplite took to the turret and began gunning down the Wasps, punching through their black-striped yellow exoskeletons and sending them crashing to the ground dead, bright green blood mixing in with the variety of colors now staining the floor. Every bullet Hoplite fired managed to find a home within a Wasp’s wretched body, punching through mandibled skulls or splitting open large abdomens with brutal efficiency. After the turret ran out, he ripped it free of its mount and threw it at a group of Pugs that had pinned a marine down with gunfire. The man had been trying to make himself as small as possible behind a little metal crate, one that was half his size.

The hot plasma had reduced the crate to molten slag within seconds, if Hoplite had been any slower then the next volley would have burnt that marine to a crisp. The detached turret crushed one of the Pugs, the sound of crunching plastic and a gurgling throat no doubt reaching its comrade’s ears. Seeing that one of their own had been turned to mush, they scattered, running headlong into other Pugs or into crossfire before being reduced to little more than peppered steak. The marine hiding behind the melted crate then saw Hoplite standing far above him on the platform overlooking the vehicle bay, flashing Hoplite a thumbs up before he began unloading his rifle into the enemy lines. Hoplite then leaped from the platform, landing on top of a U-93 heavy ballistic tank and drawing his shotgun.

There were still more aliens to kill-

“Jump is a go!” The ensign shouted.

That didn’t matter, the aliens were on the ship and they would still be here after the jump. He and the marines continued fighting to reclaim the vehicle bay from the invaders, pushing the Final Kind ever backward as the Eighth arm built momentum. Hoplite never noticed when the ship finished the light jump, nor even when it started. Right as they were mopping up the last of the aliens, the captain’s voice came over the intercom.

“It’s been an honor serving with you all. We’re taking out this Dragon-class here and now with the anti-matter bomb we’ve been carrying. Hopefully, that’ll put a big enough dent in the Final Kind that they leave our remaining colonies alone. Good work everyone, see you on the other side.”

Hoplite froze in place then. Dragon-class? Anti-matter bomb…? Was he going to… he was going to die? A strange cold sensation welled up within him, something he hadn’t felt since his first days as a Hoplite recruit… all the way back when he was just a child.

Fear.

That fear left him paralyzed for long enough that he didn’t react to the armored jeep being chucked at his head by an ape-like Yugoro. The corded strength of its four arms sending the vehicle speeding towards his head like a freight train. If Hoplite had braced for the attack, it certainly would have hurt, but he would still be in the fight.

But he was not braced.

It collided with his helmet and snapped his head back, sending him crashing into unconsciousness.

…

…

…

It was dark, that was the first thing that came to mind as consciousness returned. Were his cameras disabled? Hoplite bumped his chin, seeing the display come up. Just darkness, the cameras themselves were functional. He felt up and down his body and came to realize that he was floating. Zero G’s, but he wasn’t out in space, there would be stars if he was. This pure blackness meant two things; he was still in the vehicle bay, and the power had gone out. That would mean that life support and the gravity generator had also gone out…

It was likely that all the crew was dead by now, including the Final Kind invaders. His suit could keep him alive for up to twelve hours without oxygen… so how much time had passed? He bumped his chin again, seeing the time display on his hud. He had gotten out of cryo… roughly eleven and a half hours ago. He had around thirty minutes to get to an oxygen-rich environment or he’d suffocate.

He activated the built-in flashlights installed on the front and back of his helmet, revealing that yes, he was still on board the Sparrow in the vehicle bay. Bodies of both man and alien surrounded Hoplite, bumping into each other on occasion before passing through floating liquid pools of multi-colored blood.

Hoplite activated the thrusters in his boots and back-plate, and floated up to the exit and out of the vehicle bay, moving through dozens of floating corpses as he went. He drifted through the empty and dark halls of the Sparrow, passing over the bodies left behind. He didn’t stop to try and identify any of them, there was no point and a quick scan with his thermals confirmed what he already knew. Everything in the ship was cold and dead. He needed to get to an escape pod.

Those would have their own power and life support system. He could use that to renew his oxygen supply and get off this ship if need be. Hoplite knew where the pods were… but he found himself growing anxious as he found several of them missing. Likely either Final Kind or fellow humans got to them and escaped after the bomb… speaking of which… Did it work?

Captain Stol had come on the intercom to say that he was going to suicide bomb a Dragon-class cruiser with an anti-matter bomb. Hoplite didn’t know too much about them, but he did know that they were extremely experimental and that the Sparrow had been outfitted with one for testing. A test that had never come to be after the Final Kind took Earth. Likely by now, the aliens were finished subjugating humanity to follow their draconian laws.

It seemed as if the bomb's effect was more like that of an EMP, rather than a so-called anti-matter bomb. After all, the ship was still here and the power was out, what else could that mean? His thoughts were cut off after he finally found a pod. The very last one at the end of the hall was pill-shaped and empty of any passengers.

He floated inside and activated the life support system, shutting the sliding doors behind him. He waited there for an hour, just floating as his oxygen tank refilled itself. The phalanx suit could detect when he was in a non-breathable environment and sealed itself off accordingly, but when his environment had air, it would open its filters and suck the air into a hyper-compressed oxygen tank.

After that tank was refilled, he shut off the life support and reopened the doors, his filters immediately sealing. He floated through the corridors until he finally came upon the bridge. The amphitheater was completely empty of bodies. They might have made it to the escape shuttles along with captain Stol, but where would they escape to? There had to be somewhere they intended to land the pods. Either that or they had found another human ship and chose to escape to it, though that was unlikely.

The ship was blacked out, with no hope of using the holodeck for anything. He could always just use the engineer ladders to take a peek outside. There should be one around the shuttle bay he just left, engineers constantly had to use those ladders to keep from floating away. It wasn’t like they would float off if they let go, they always carried cables with them to stay safe when performing maintenance.

Hoplite wouldn’t bother with safety cables, his boosters would let him get back to the ship even if he somehow lost his grip. He didn’t have to search long for the access hatch that would lead him outside. It was encircled by a bright yellow line and read ‘engineer access’. He keyed the button next to the hatch but got no response. Right, power was out across the Sparrow, he’d need to be more physical here.

He slipped his fingers in the groove between the sliding doors and magnetized his boots to the ground. Hoplite strained, gritting his teeth as he forced the thick doors apart with his and the suit's enhanced strength. He only got it as far open as his arm span before he stepped through, the doors slamming shut behind him. They made no noise as they did so.

The airlock was small, with only a single closed manhole in the center of the room. Considering the fact that the power was out, he would have to pry this one open as well. That proved to be no large feat, the previous door had been a challenge, but this would be as easy as peeling an orange. Soon he was scrambling down the maintenance shaft, kicking open the second hatch at the bottom, and climbing the ladder out into space.

He climbed quickly, only briefly observing the surrounding stars before ascending. He could see half of a green moon far off to his left… that must have meant that there was a planet nearby right? Soon, he had his answer after he reached the top of the Sparrow. He peered over the top of the ladder to see a gigantic eyeball staring back at him, floating in the black void of space. The iris matched the many bloodshot veins stretching toward the center, all a deep shade of oceanic blue. Hoplite saw that parts of this entity's eyeball were a deep infected green, with patches of red and yellow on the upper half of the thing. The lower halves seemed to be rotting the worst it seemed, with a blighted deep purple shade on the left, and dead reddish-brown on the right.

The eyelids were both different shades as well, the top being a fiery red and the bottom an icy white, the lashes matching both. The sclera was the same shade of blue as the veins and iris, with the pupil being yet an even deeper shade of cobalt. Hoplite stared at the monstrosity, which stared back at him, not blinking. It seemed to fill the entirety of space for that instant, imposing and horrifically massive. His hands dented the gray metal ladder, his grip stronger for the terror flooding him. Hoplite’s heart beat loudly in his ears, a cacophonous rhythm that threatened to drown out all thoughts. He waited for it to blink, waited for it to do something, but nothing ever came. After his fearful awe subsided, Hoplite eventually realized that this eyeball… was a planet.

How could that be? How could the geology of this world have come to be shaped in such a way? What were the odds of this being pure chance? Was this some kind of Final Kind art world? He had never known them to be artistic in anything but subjugation and genocide. Hoplite shook his head, there was no way that this was a Final Kind world, if it was, he would have seen countless cruisers and defense platforms in the atmosphere, but aside from that… there was nothing.

Nothing except the dark husk of the Dragon-class cruiser. It drifted lifelessly, no lights shining from its sleek scaled bulk. It dwarfed the Sparrow a thousand-fold, being nearly the size of the green moon nearby. So the bomb had worked… it had to have had the effect of an EMP then… but… if it had just been an EMP, then why was the Dragon missing its back end? From the way the ship was angled, he could see that the back half of the Dragon had been sheared clean off. As it tilted, Hoplite could make the honeycomb-like structure within the Dragon, matching the interiors of other Final Kind spacecraft.

There were questions he had; very many questions that he needed answers to. Hoplite had a feeling that those answers would be down there on that cosmic eyeball. Light illuminated the left half of the planet, though with the tilt, it would be getting dark soon on that side. If he were to launch as soon as possible, then he would likely land on that left half. Did the surviving crew jettison down there after all? Before all the air evacuated from the life support system?

They must have.

But if they evacuated to that world…

That meant that the Final Kind likely evacuated what personnel they could as well. Somewhere down on that eye world, the Eighth Arm fought against the forces of the Final Kind… without Hoplite. He would be joining them soon, they just had to hold out a little longer.

For the next three hours, he gathered up weapons, rations, and other equipment into the shuttle, as much as it would be able to carry. Hoplite had no idea what the situation would be like down there, but he wouldn’t be caught unprepared. Unfortunately for Hoplite, all of the vehicle-sized escape pods had jettisoned, meaning he would not be able to take a vehicle with him. That at least meant that there were vehicles that had made it planetside, that would give the Eighth Arm better chances against Final Kind forces.

He packed all the scavenged gear he found into the eight seats on either side of the pod, making sure to pack as much extra ammo as he possibly could. Hoplite climbed into the pilot's seat, and started the pod once more. The door slid shut behind him and he punched it, pushing the lever forward and feeling the shuttle launch out of the dead Sparrow. Hoplite had to angle the shuttle down toward the planet just right, he didn’t want to crash in the middle of the ocean after all.

He aimed for the greenest part of the planet and activated the thrusters. It would be a while before the pod actually reached the planet’s atmosphere, considering that he was launching from right next to the moon. These shuttles were fast, but they couldn’t go light speed. He guessed it would be an hour or two before it actually reached the eye. Light barely touched that portion in the western hemisphere, so by time he landed, Hoplite estimated that it would indeed be nighttime as he had predicted earlier. That wouldn't matter much to him, the only thing that made him uncomfortable was the time it would take to make it to the surface. Hoplite knew that worrying about the time of his landing wouldn't get him there any faster...

So he waited, seeing the massive world-eye drawing closer and closer until finally…

…

…

…

“Ess?” She heard her sister, Lya, say beside her.

“Hmm?” Essa replied, opening her eyes to see the starry sky above her.

“What do you think the Harkhall is gonna do about the monster next to the moon?” Lya asked her, “I don’t like it.”

Essa sighed, sitting up from the grass to look at her younger sister. She was in her fifth year now, and loaded with questions that Essa didn’t have the answers to. In truth, Essa did not much like the appearance of this ‘moon monster’ either. A sign of this age’s coming end? Hopefully not, though if Pillar-Born were to appear in the wake of this thing…

Well that would confirm it. Essa grabbed her sister by the shoulder, and pointed to Rehtyna with a sigh.

“Probably ignore it. Look at how high up the moon is Lya… they can’t reach it with their Dok-ah.” She pushed her long black hair behind one of her pointed ears as she spoke, “It hasn’t even done anything. If it was really a monster, it would have eaten the moon by now. Best not to worry about it too much.”

Lya scrunched her brow in thought, turning her little head back to her sister, then back up to the sky. Like Essa, she had their mother's hair, pure black like the sea at night. Essa was certain that she wouldn't have been able to even see her sister’s hair without the viridian light of Rehtyna shining down on this field. Essa enjoyed little moments like this, just out in the wilderness with her sister… crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and the occasional firefly flitting about. Besides the thing next to the moon, this was a perfect summer night.

This clearing was Essa’s favorite to lay down in, the grass was high enough that it felt like laying down on the softest mattress, and the trees were so perfectly spaced that the broad green leaves served to frame the night sky for viewing. It was like a perfect painting, with the green moon shining down on everything while its ever present companions, the stars, twinkled like glass in the sun. The new addition of the 'moon monster' definitely was something that drew a lot of her attention, but its imposing presence did not detract from the natural beauty of the night sky. The elders and everyone else in the Bastion were horrified, and Essa didn't blame them for that. The thing was nearly the size of Rehtyna; the moon itself, but Essa still didn't think it was going to do anything. It had been up there all day and was just sitting there. Likely just enjoying the view as she was... or maybe it was a new moon? With that blocky shape she doubted it, but it could also be one of the stars, come to pay Rehtyna a visit.

Being an elf, she’d be able to enjoy this view for eternity… unless she died of unnatural means. An uncomfortable thought, best to turn her attention to something less anxiety inducing. Like her adorable little sister. Those big glassy gray eyes were those of their father, and Essa also shared that trait. If they had been around the same age, they likely could have passed as twins, but Essa was in her twenty-ninth year.

She was an adult, but twenty-nine was still considered by nearly everyone in the Bastion to be a mere child. It was really irritating, after all-

“But the moon monster sent some of the stars falling,” Lya said, interrupting her thoughts.

Essa shrugged, laying back down on the grass to stare at the sky. “Just a meteor shower. They happen sometimes…”

As she finished saying that, she caught sight of a new star in the sky… one that was growing, and fast. Essa sat up again, staring as the star shone brighter and brighter, grabbing Lya and holding her tight. Lya herself was just as mystified by the growing star, and she did nothing else but point at it. Then, much to Essa's horror, the star screamed, the horrifying shriek growing louder and louder as it continued to grow in size.

That’s when she began running, turning away from the screaming star while clutching her little sister as hard as she could. Lya began weeping as they passed into the woods, weaving between trees as she went. Then, the star collided with the forest, shaking her to her core and sending her ears ringing. Chunks of moist dirt and burning hunks of wood flew, some barely missing Essa as she ran screaming in terror. The fae inhabiting the surrounding trees all abandoned their homes to escape death, multicolored ribbons of light flowing high into the air to avoid the crushing demise that sped towards them.

She did not look back, she did not stop, she kept running until she was back in the Bastion, safe with her sister and away from the screaming star.

She knew that she would have to tell the elders about this… they had to know what to do about this, and if they didn't, then the Harkhall surely would. Though even if Essa went to the Harkhall, she knew that the Harkmother must already know about the star crashing into the Faewood. Essa could guess that night-watch captain Muro would send one of his best to go and investigate the star, if he simply didn’t just go himself.