Untold Stories of a Galaxy - Kysaek: The Beginning

In a room full of terminals, shot up and littered with shattered glass, the reactor team around Wolfgang listened to the warning, causing Vorrn’s nostrils to quiver. “Skarg is already sending his freak show to the front?′ Pathetic, desperate octopus.”

“Something about the old days of war,” Douglas recalled. He was guarding the entrance, but he was calm, as you would expect from a seasoned and battle-hardened soldier like him. "Into the trenches of the First, through streets or houses, and out of every corner they came running, crawling, flying, swarm after swarm of those bastards."

“Yes, these creatures are tenacious, I’ll give them that.”

Wolfgang stood at one of the terminals and typed hastily, “If you could leave the glorious past behind you for a moment!” he breathed in deeply as he was once again denied access to an important file. “He lied!”

“Did he?” Vorrn bared his teeth and looked below him, where he had planted his right foot firmly on the head of an unarmed but importantly labelled PGI technician. The Hishek now exerted even more pressure on him and murmured curtly. “You lied and I’m going to ask you for the last time before my claws dig into your skull and you slowly feel your little brain being crushed - what’s the code?”

The human technician waved his arms unsuccessfully, at the mercy of the sheer power of the lizard. “Okay, okay! 47K9-Trident-K-A9P!”

Wolfgang typed along smoothly and got the access he had been waiting for. “That’s it! We now have a detailed schemactic of the station!”

“Do what you want with it, but now let me go as promised!” the technician demanded, tapping his foot above him.

“A man, a word,” growled Vorrn and one movement of his foot was enough to break the PGI employee’s neck.

“Don’t tell Kysaek,” Wolfgang said, but not because it bothered him. His thirst for revenge was burning too much for that. “Talk about keeping your word and nobody believing us anymore.”

Vorrn walked to the entrance of the room and cooed sarcastically. “I’m sure word of this deed will spread everywhere. That being said, for you smart guy, I kept my word. It will be less painful, were my words.”

“What a juggler of grammar you are,” Wolfgang replied indifferently and loaded the data onto his vortex cuff, as well as into the allied frequency. “Listen up, everyone! We’ve just captured the schematic of the station! I’m marking the reactor!”

“Very good work!” Kysaek praised the deed. “We’re advancing to the core. Looks like another huge cavity on the map, with a building inside and a hub for all the flight tunnels!”

“That’s what it looks like. We’ll make our way there! That’s the only way to get to the reactor!”

“Team Glass Eye here!” Galaen joined in. “Our first clue proved to be a failure, but Dorvan has been trying to track signals in the conduits and with the captured plans, we can pinpoint the location of relevant databases pretty reliably!”

“If you need additional assistance, get in touch!” offered Kysaek, ending the exchange. “Until then, move on! Kysaek out!”

“Before we go,” Douglas remarked and walked over to the dead technician. He scanned him carefully and pulled a key card from his inside pocket. “I’m sure this will serve us well.”

“Excellent thinking!” Wolfgang said sincerely and walked away from the terminal. “On to the re-!” All of a sudden, the scientist was pulled off his feet and dragged next to the terminal. Pale hands reached out of a ventilation shaft and gripped the man’s legs. “God damn it!” Wolfgang hastily reached for his submachine gun as he looked into the dark shaft and the red pair of eyes of the Runner, who lurked there moaning angrily and tugging at him. One volley was enough to kill the creature, but the next Runner immediately jumped out of a shaft in the ceiling.

It landed directly above Wolfgang and launched powerful punches, but Douglas took care of the unwanted visitor with a well-aimed headshot. “Where there’s one, there’s always more!”

“I can hear them already!” said Vorrn, facing the door and the sound of bare feet running over steel. A group of Runners was approaching and the first in the lead rushed towards Vorrn, but the Hishek intercepted his opponent with his back and catapulted him across the room. This movement caused the lizard to position itself with its tail towards the door and start swinging its thorny tail back and forth: Left, right, left, right. Vorrn smashed each runner down with a single, well-directed blow to the head until no one was left standing.

Douglas killed the enemy he had thrown away and helped the scientist up. “Up now! We have to hurry before more come, and more are coming always!”

“Yes, and it would be really great if you two could do your job and get me safely to the reactor!” complained Wolfgang, rubbing his pelvis. “That’s the second time today that I’ve been lying down!”

“Ohhhh, I’m almost tempted to let it happen again, just to see what you say the third time,” Vorrn joked in bounty hunter fashion, wiping the bloody thorn tip as best he could on one of the Runners. “But Kysaek’s talk if that were to happen isn’t worth it. Let’s go!”

“We should focus more on our sensors on the immediate distance!” suggested Douglas as he readjusted his vortex cuff and armour accordingly. “Ripper, Runner, there’ll be Cluto lurking in every corner!”

The concern was more than justified, but on the way to the station centre, which was not far away, the team faced more resistance than before. PGI’s soldiers had organised themselves and were partly supported by the robust Iron Masks, the improved version of the Runners. Eager and well-armed assault bots further bolstered the ranks and would have posed a major problem.

Wolfgang’s knowledge of weapons and technology proved extremely useful against the machines. With well-placed electronic pulses from his vortex cuff, he weakened the bots’ shields or completely disabled some of them. On one occasion, he was even able to jam their signals to such an extent that the machines took out each other and a few PGI soldiers.

However, Vorrn and Douglas’ combat experience also played a major role. Although the Hishek was supposed to observe the human and always stood inconspicuously a few millimetres behind him, the two worked hand in hand. It was as if they had always been a team and they unleashed a truly perfect game of smoke and blood. “We’re here!” announced Vorrn as he reached a cracked gate, sparking with sparks.

Shots echoed from deep within, whether steel or energy-charged, testifying to the scale of the core that made them feel one size smaller. True to the previously captured plans, this area stretched a good kilometre in height and the circumference, although not quite as wide, was not to be sneezed at either. It was something of a self-contained market district, with the most prominent feature being the columnar tower at the centre, formed by sprawling, curved edges on the outside. Previously mentioned flight tunnels were scattered throughout the walls of the area, from the ground to the highest point, and bridges stretched across several levels towards the tower. Heavy barrage fire also rained down from there and targeted single shots took out several Consulate soldiers. There was not much room for cover on the ground. Protruding magnetic blocks for docking hover platforms were the only usable protection on the ground. However, other Consulate units were also streaming into the centre via the higher levels and were able to take cover behind steel railings and take up the fight at eye level from there.

“There’s one up ahead!” said Vorrn. Not far from his entrance, a docking module already occupied by the Consulate and additionally protected by a small energy shield had been secured. As Hishek, he could be the fastest of all, but Vorrn acted as a distraction instead and returned the barrage from one of the bridges at a brisk run.

This allowed Douglas and Wolfgang to reach the block unscathed. “Is the platform working?” the scientist asked.

A Calanian woman from the Consulate nodded. “It’s functional! Where do you want to take it?”

“Once to the reactor, please! But will we get out of here in one piece?”

“That’s doable! We have a tech expert with a portable energy shield and a prismatic in our unit! That should give the platform and us enough protection from damage!” said the soldier, while there were repeated small explosions above and around her head, in addition to the hail of gunfire. “Only launching will be difficult with this heavy enemy fire!” Again, there was the shuddering screech of Soul Rippers, which signalled the presence of an entire legion.

Douglas looked over the edge of the block. “This is going to be intense!” he said and saw the face of a ball of Soul Rippers and Cluto. There were at least 100 of them at once, pouring out of the flight tunnels from the higher levels and resembling a black waterfall. “We need all the firepower we can get!”

“Damn it!” the Calanian soldier cursed and relayed the sighting to all nearby teams. “Re-align all units in the core! A wave of enemy air units is bearing down on us! Concentrate all fire on this cluster!”

With this order, the tech soldier from their unit also appeared on the scene. He carried a bulky generator on his back and used it to create a protective sphere of blue energy in the immediate vicinity. This barrier was reinforced by a human prismatic

Under this protection and from every other position in the core, the muzzles of the weapons began to fume and heat up the gathered swarm. The Soul TRippers fired back, spitting out their red energy orbs, but those hit either the steel or shields. In turn, it seemed no matter how many of the flying creatures died, new ones kept pouring in, soon dangerously close to the ranks of the Consulate. Even the shells of portable rocket launchers slammed into the swarm with their explosions, weakening it only moderately.

“Don’t stop!” shouted the Calanian soldier, confronted with this hopeless situation. “Keep firing!”

They bravely kept up their fire, but there were simply too many monsters! The first of them were already close, ready to swoop down on their victims. Finally, another missile flew from the ground and almost made it into the centre of the large pile. A bright flash of light momentarily robbed all visual contact and seamlessly consumed everything around it before a fiery shockwave spread out, almost turning every flying unit into a rain of ash and forcing the Consular units in the upper ranks to take cover as the flaming wave blew over their heads.

Wolfgang rubbed his eyes and saw Vorrn’s outstretched arm next to him. “Did you just?!”

“No need to thank me,” the Hishek merely replied and lowered his arm again, where the plug-in port for the missiles was still smoking.

“That was an R O dart! They’re forbidden!” Wolfgang ran his fingers through his hair. As a weapons expert, he recognised this immediately, although it didn’t require much knowledge. Every useful soldier knew these handy missiles, with different names but the same effect. R O dart´s were a weaker version of Striker missiles, but designed for infantry and light armored targets and nothing more than miniature nuclear bombs. “They could have pulverised us!”

Vorrn puffed out. “Possibly, and I would have called it mercy. Eaten or taken over were also options - which death would you prefer?”

“You have R O dart´s?” Douglas approached the lizard seriously.

“Yes, so what?”

“Share with me!” demanded Douglas, holding out his hand.

Vorrn showed his teeth, a Hishek grin and handed over the small black and yellow striped rocket he had asked for. “I want this replaced after our victory. They´re not cheap.”

Douglas stowed the projectile in a hinged compartment on his chest armour and murmured grimly. “You think we survivor this? You’re a real optimist.”

“No, I’m just giving you motivation to survive or I’ll eat your corpse as compensation if you dare to die here.”

“That really motivates me not to end up in the rotten teeth of a lizard,” laughed Douglas.

Vorrb did the same. “Let’s hope so. Old meat is always so bland.”

The explosion of the R O dart had not only almost completely eradicated the threat of the approaching swarm, it had also created a breach in the enemy defences. The loss of the flying units and the aftermath of the small blast had momentarily disrupted PGI’s barrage. Consulate units used this to their advantage and, supported by covering fire, advanced towards the tower. Targeted shots from some snipers took out enemy guards on the bridges, causing them to fall lifelessly into the abyss, and with one good missile, one of the bridges was completely dismembered, along with the defenders on top of it.

“It’s now or never!” Wolfgang said hastily and urged both his companions and the consulate unit on. In front of him, the Tech Soldier ran with the shield generator on his back, creating an energy bubble around the team as they all rushed to the docked platform. Requiring no codes or keys to activate the platform and further reinforced by a prismatic barrier around the now-launching hover platform, Wolfgang’s team made their way to the nearest spiralling flight tunnel.

Outside Trident Three, the two opposing fleets were still engaged in a fierce battle in the combat zone, as well as smaller skirmishes away from it. However, the situation was gradually shifting in favour of the Consulate, whose forces were gaining more and more space on the front line.

“Apparently they’re still holding back a bit,” Admiral Jonathan noted on his bridge. He went through the data on his terminal and compared the figures. “The enemy should still have some reserves, but they’re not using them.”

“Maybe PGI wants to wait for our next move,” surmised a Calanian officer next to the commander. “But even with the possible reserves, we’re in a better position now, sir.”

Jonathan stroked his chin and came to the same conclusion. “Indeed we are. We’ll force PGI to react and keep the momentum of the battle in our favour.” The admiral relayed this order over the comm frequencies. “Carriers Two and Three-- send out all remaining units to fight! We’re going to crush the combat zone!”

“Launch units, sir!” came back over the channels.

“Group MX, take up positions - as soon as the combat zone is broken up, you will break out and move into the active phase with the help of the units from the combat zone! We will attack the enemy fleet directly!”

The aforementioned group made up about half of the Consulate fleet and consisted mainly of the manoeuvrable ships, scouts, frigates, some destroyers and light cruisers, whose primary armament was laser turrets and plasma cannons. “Confirmed Admiral!” came over the frequencies as the ships shifted forwards a little from their previous bow formation.

Meanwhile, the newly deployed drones, with several squadrons behind them, raced past the MX group to deal the final death blow to the combat zone. At four points, the reinforcements cut through the enemy units and isolated them from each other, resulting in a metallic massacre in favour of the Consulate.

“The combat zone is collapsing! The enemy fleet is preparing to attack!” announced an officer on the bridge of the PGI main battleship. “Instructions, sir?”

From his command post, the Palanian admiral watched the action on the holographic charts with a clear, steely gaze. These were not the eyes of someone who felt defeated. “Clear the combat zone! Withdraw remaining drones and rearrange them in our ranks! Prepare all squadrons and ship drones for launch and transmit the detection signal!”

“Understood sir!”

Calculating, the Palanian gave the order. “Align our main weapon. Everyone select targets at your own discretion. Only my ship’-- open fire!”

The squadrons of the Consulate were now bearing down on the PGI fleet, closely followed by the rapidly accelerating ships of the MX group, which immediately had to prove their manoeuvrability when the massive main magnet canon of the PGI battleship fired the first shot and the next followed within seconds. The first attacks clearly missed their manoeuvrable targets, but soon a single hit pierced the shield and hull of a medium frigate, causing the ensuing explosion to tear it open from the inside out. Despite this, the ships of the MX group continued unwaveringly towards the enemy fleet, where the remaining PGI drones joined up with launched squadrons of fighters and heavy raiders. Each PGI ship armed with laser turrets opened fire on the approaching Consulate groups of drones and fighters, scattering them slightly as the red lines sliced through space like a net. Finally, the countless flocks of fliers clashed once again, only now the Consulate was forcing its opponent into the active combat phase and the foremost PGI ships had to be constantly on the move to avoid falling victim to the much smaller flying units.

“The enemy has engaged us in combat!” the officer on the bridge of the PGI battleship reported extremely eagerly. There was no anxiety in his voice. “Sir, ten seconds to arrival!”

“Then it’s time to call it a day,” replied the Palanian PGI admiral, gripping the railing of his command post. “Prepare the fleet for a direct advance! All drones not yet launched from Trident Three, engage immediately! My ship, cease fire.”

Unaware of the impending plan, Admiral Jonathan watched the fighting on the front lines on the holoprojector. It was mainly circles and triangles with symbols representing the various models, but for an experienced military expert like him, that was all he needed. “As soon as the MX group attacks the enemy, I want four gaps to be created in the new combat zone! We will provide supporting fire from our position and deal a heavy blow to the enemy fleet!”

The remaining ships of the bow formation immediately took up their new positions in front of Jonathan’s heavy cruiser, but they were unable to complete their plan. “Admiral!” a man warned over the frequencies. “Unknown ships are emerging from the IPF at coordinates 4.52!”

“What?! More PGI ships?!”

Away from the active combat zone, a long way to the left of Admiral Jonathan’s section of the fleet, 31 ships popped out of the IPF, of Palanian architecture. Their central shape could be likened to a double-sided spearhead and at a 120 degree angle, sharp outer sections protruded from the hull, like the bony ridges of a Palanian, made to strike fear into enemies. A 1.5 kilometre carrier ship brought up the rear of this new flotilla, with two evenly spaced groups stretching out in front of it in a wide attack formation. Each group was backed by two cruisers with magnetic guns and each cruiser was backed by two heavy frigates with the same main weapon. The remaining 18 ships consisted of destroyers, light frigates and corvettes, mainly equipped with laser turrets and accelerating rapidly.

“Admiral!” reported a Talin bridge officer on the consulate’s command ship. “It’s a Junta flotilla!”

“Send a transmission to them immediately!” ordered Jonathan and promptly got a channel opened on his projector. “This is Admiral Jonathan Griffith, supreme commander of the Consulate fleets! Abort your attack immediately or you are guilty of aiding and abetting highly illegal activities!” He heard no sound and could only watch on the digital battle map as the Junta forces moved towards him and formations of drones and various fighter types poured out of the enormous carrier ship. “Breacher group! Regroup! Group MX, enemy approaching from behind! Try to hold your position as long as possible!”

What else could the front line do right now? Not only did the PGI fleet now send almost every ship to the combat zone, the Palanian flotilla sent half of its units from the carrier ship to the MX group and thus pinned them down. However, the Junta squadrons received no supporting fire from their remaining cruisers, but that was unnecessary anyway. The encirclement, coupled with the firepower of the PGI fleet, now turned the tide of battle in the enemy’s favour and several Consulate ships were quickly destroyed or took heavy hits, while the enemy lost not quite five ships in the onslaught.

Towards the Breacher Group, and Admiral Jonathan’s heavy cruiser, the situation was similarly bad. The four Palanian cruisers, together with their eight frigates, opened fire and focussed their magnetic guns primarily on the important Consulate cruisers, which were about to take up a new position. Because of this, and their much more cumbersome nature, they were extremely vulnerable and four of the cruisers were destroyed by the surprise attack before the breacher group had taken a reasonably safe position and still took further hits and minor losses. “Admiral Griffith!” reported the Talin officer on the bridge. “We’ve lost four cruisers and over a dozen damage reports from the breacher group! Enemy is approaching our position fast!”

“Breacher group!” Jonathan spoke up. He had to take away the enemy’s advantage in ranged attacks immediately, and he knew that meant sending some of his ships into extreme danger against the approaching 18 Junta ships. “Break formation immediately! Try to establish a combat zone! We need to buy time for now! Launch all remaining drones and carrier flight units immediately!”

The Breacher group turned away from the PGI skirmish and flew towards the approaching Palanian ships. New, supporting attacks from their cruisers flew between them, but they did not hit any of the now actively moving Consulate ships. Without hits, however, the projectiles did not stop and some of these ricochets crashed into the protective shields around Jonathan’s command formation. No one recorded any fatal hits, but some of the projectiles smashed into a few asteroids and blew various fragments out of the rock. These unpredictable objects were too slow to be detected by the ship’s shield sensors and crashed into more than just the heavy cruiser. It was able to cope, but two of the much smaller escort ships were defenceless against too much rock and their hulls were broken open before they were completely torn apart.

However, when Jonathan’s cruiser took a hit to the engines, the admiral gave the order. “Command Unit! Initiate evasive manoeuvre! We’ll retreat behind the larger asteroids and use them as cover!” As quickly as possible, all the ships around the heavy cruiser, like himself, broke their position and made wide turns back to save themselves beyond the many and, above all, thickest chunks.

Completely unsupported behind, the breaker group confronted the smaller Junta ships and engaged them in combat, causing the Junta’s support fire to cease so as not to jeopardise their own units. Even without the now inactive long-range weapons, such as magnet guns and torpedoes, the Consulate was at a slight disadvantage, plus the improvised equipment of some converted ships. The enemy destroyers, light frigates and corvettes, on the other hand, were equipped with high-quality drives, shields, armour, laser turrets and plasma cannons, accurate and fast at short range. Accompanied by the overwhelming mass of squadrons, the Junta dominated the action from the first second the fronts clashed and the Consulate took huge losses, but it was not completely outmatched and resisted valiantly. Especially when it was reinforced by its drones and fighters, their enemy also lost the first ship and several squadrons.

On Trident Three, Galaen listened to every word and anxiously switched to the officer’s channel where not everyone could overhear. “Admiral Griffith, what’s happening out there sir?”

“A flotilla from the Palanian Junta has arrived!” Jonathan reported with heavy concentration, but not panic. “They’re attacking us and I had to engage them in direct combat!”

It was a mystery to Galaen what the junta wanted here. “Why would the Palanians do that! Have you contacted them?”

“We’ve tried, without success, and I don’t have the time or forbearance for further diplomacy,” Jonathan realised and tried to calm the situation. “But we already have a counter-plan. Your helmsman was so free.”

“My helmsman?”

“At your service, troop supervisor,” the oddball Selok kept his voice short. “We’ll refresh the Junta’s memory. Let’s see if they remember good old Ghalaj.”

“... You old pirate,” came from Galaen disreputably, but not disparagingly.

Selok’s humour could hardly be blacker. “Let’s see if the Palanians will say the same thing.”

Jonathan skilfully intervened to focus on what was important. “You see, we’ve got everything under control and you’re concentrating on your mission! The sooner we get what we want, the more will live!”

“Of course sir, understood!” replied Galaen obediently, she knew that the admiral was right, even if she was worried about her tens of thousands of comrades on the ships as she followed Stemford and his soldiers up a staircase. The team around the Palanian had made good progress in the meantime, thanks to the station’s internal transport system, and were now roughly in the outer centre of Trident Three’s hub, in a section for research and production. “We’ll be there soon.”

They were talking about the suspected data hub that had been identified earlier and only an unguarded, locked door separated the group from their destination. “Doesn’t look too thick,” Stemford realised and waved the soldier in question over. “Weld it on!”

A plasma welder went straight to work, while Galaen kept a careful eye on the surroundings. As she made her way up the stairs, she was able to stare through a completely glazed wall at a hall that was not wide but went very far upwards and into the abyss. It had been her unit that had discovered similar mass production facilities before.

Voluminous glass capsules, with greyish silvered edges, hung from steel conveyor hooks, without any movement, and in each of these containers, a good 30 naked people dangled from metal cables, like animals in a slaughterhouse. Only these animals were not bloody but in a process of transformation, and while those hanging in the lowest capsules were still fully or partially human, this changed as the height increased and what remained were runners or iron masks, with the capsules containing the iron masks hanging on separate conveyor hooks.

“Attention!” reported Stemford, arming his weapon. “We’re through! Don’t register any activity on the other side!”

Despite the seemingly clear path, no soldier took it lightly and after the welded piece was kicked out the door, they secured what could only truly be described as a data and control station. Terminals upon terminals, with two secondary and one primary holoprojector, near an elevated vantage point on the production floor.

“Our chances of success have just increased by 74%,” Dorvan’s bot said, walking purposefully towards the consoles that stood out from the rest of the room. He not only began to operate them, but to physically connect with them at the same time. “Surprising.”

“What’s surprising?” Galaen asked brightly, because what else could be surprising on this station and she was joking as a soldier. “Free access?”

“Almost, yes.”

“Excuse me?” Galaen wondered and she stepped right next to her hacker. “Didn’t PGI secure it before leaving the room?”

“Yes, but the measures are more standard and not nearly as critical as before at the headquarters on Cipi,” Dorvan mentioned, as if it was a day like any other for him. His conclusion was all the more logical. “I guess PGI didn’t expect anyone unauthorised to ever make it this far. Not out here, in an unknown system, under the strictest secrecy.”

“Then the spirits are finally in our favour,” Galaen breathed a sigh of relief. After so many hardships, fate was playing into the Nebula crew’s hands. “How long will it take you?”

“Less than two minutes,” Dorvan estimated, but although he recognised the ease of the system, he was never reckless. “Maybe a little more. This could also be a trap. With the technology of the First in the compound, even numbers can be unpredictable.”

“Do what you need to do, we’ve got your back,” Galaen said, tapping the bot’s sturdy shoulder, which went unanswered. Instead, the Palanian made contact with her people. “Kysaek, come in, please.”

“I’m here!” replied the leader of the Nebula crew, accompanied by sporadic gunfire on the side. “How are things with you?”

“Dorvan is about to gain access to an important terminal,” Galaen reported more relaxed, as there was no danger here. “Objective one is as good as achieved. Where are you?”

“Target three!” said Kysaek and there was a bang, followed by a moment of radio silence before she continued. “He’s here! One of the officers told us that Skarg Peeks is on the station and we’re on our way to him!”

“As suspected! And the reactor team?”

“We can’t get a connection to them! Not a good sign!”

“Not necessarily,” Dorvan joined in without being asked and continued working on his terminal at the same time. “If the group is close to or even already in the reactor area, that can lead to interference. I’ll try to link into the systems from here to localise a possible position.”

“Do that, but carefully,” Kysaek agreed, continuing her attacks much more audibly. “We’re almost at a main lift! If we find Skarg, I’ll get back to you! Kysaek out!”

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Stemford grated. He opened the visor of his helmet to hastily take a sip of water from a metal flask. “This place is vile and inhumane”

“I agree,” Galaen agreed and approached the vantage point to look once more at the glass capsules and what had once been human. At least here, because in previous places on the station she had also seen other trapped species transformed into monstrosities by PGI. “We’ll destroy it.”

“I’m absolutely with you, ma’am,” Stemford agreed and resealed his helmet. “I can’t imagine if the theory is true that you’re still fully conscious as one of these creatures without being able to do anything about it.”

“Let’s hope it’s not true, and if it is, let’s give everyone eternal peace,” Galaen said by way of consolation, but then a loud, steely rumbling in the factory area caught her and everyone’s attention. Some of the taller glass pods, filled with mature Runner specimens, were being transported upwards and the mindless beasts inside snapped their eyes open. “Spirits, this doesn’t look good.”

“Holy shit!” Stemford chimed in. “PGI is getting reinforcements!”

“No need to worry, they’re still far too far away from us,” Galaen said, but her claws went to the submachine gun on her belt.

“I have access,” Dorvan reported, turning his mechanical head almost 180 degrees. “Do you have any specific file requests?”

“Are there any markings of relevant files?”

“No, a simple alphabetical order.”

“Then prioritise everything that even contains the word first. Otherwise, download as much as you can.”

“I’m running the process,” the bot announced and half a dozen digital spheres appeared around it. “Additionally, I’m granting remote access to all tech units. They’ll be slower than me, but we can download more. That’s a lot of data that would take a few days.”

“Excellent idea!” Galaen agreed and looked at the bot. “Let everyone know about it! We have to-!”

Suddenly, the glass of the viewpoint shattered as Runners swarmed into the research area from above. There were quite a few of them and they immediately charged towards everything and everyone with angry groans.

“Enemy contact!” shouted Galaen. Thanks to her prepared weapon hand, she drew her plasma weapon more hastily than anyone else present and with each release of the trigger, she scattered a multiple volley into the vulnerable runners as they retreated. “Form a perimeter around Dorvan! Protect him at all costs!”

The positions already taken by the soldiers gave them a lot of security against the mindless and one-sided, yet numerous onslaught of the Runners. One Davoc, who was closest to the entry point and was swarmed, was unlucky. He lunged and struck with his brute strength, but soon disappeared under a pile of synthetic flesh and fists pounded him mercilessly.

Galaen had backed away, but she too was in imminent danger of being overrun. It was a decision of seconds, but she realised that she could not do enough damage with firearms alone and resorted to a Palanian speciality for this fight - Gen’Rosh! Galaen slid her weapon back into its holster and crossed her arms tightly in front of her torso. A short, slightly wider blade with a piercing triangular shape shot from the back of each of her armoured hands. Galaen swung one arm wide as two creatures approached her. One slashed her neck, the other backed away, which was perfect for the Palanian. In no time at all, she swung a supporting leg forwards and struck deadly with the next blade, straight into her target’s chest.

This was the basis of this Palanian fighting style and it required a lot of practice. Ideally, the arms were always close to the body and the focus was on quick, usually double and powerful combination strikes or a wide sweeping blow to the outside so that the fighter could create space and have a reaction ready with the next blade if possible. It was intended to compensate for the Palanian scaly skin, this rigid, sharp-edged exoskeleton, which gave the species limited agility, even if it looked completely different here.

Galaen was a very skilled Gen’Rosh advocate and literally danced with her opponents, always trying to move in circles. A runner came towards her and she stabbed him in the chest to draw him in. Utilising his own strength and speed, she sank the next blade into him, throwing the Runner almost headfirst into a whole group behind her. Galaen then stretched both arms out to the sides and rotated blindly, tearing open the faces and throats of enemies before repeating her dance and reducing the number of opponents.

With more field of fire and thinned ranks, Stemford helped her to the best of his ability, firing at runners climbing in to lighten his commander’s load. “At the door!” he registered on his sensors. “PGI soldiers!”

Galaen was unable to intervene in the ensuing gunfight, but she took advantage of her situation and dived between the runners, using them as a shield to protect herself from the crossfire.

At the terminal, Dorvan ignored all this and went about his work coldly, even when the occasional magnet bullet ricocheted off his steel casing or a charging Runner was shot next to him. At least he reacted to them, but only when they fell onto the terminal and hindered his work. Then he simply casually pushed them off the display, like a student who wanted to tidy up his desk.

The runners dwindled and Stemford’s soldiers kept PGI at bay while the lieutenant tossed a grenade towards the broken glass. “Grenade!”

Galaen was far enough away to decapitate one last Runner before taking cover behind a terminal before the explosion, sending the remaining creatures flying across the viewpoint and back into the abyss.

The death of the last PGI attacker brought certainty from a Talin soldier. “Secured!”

“Question is for how long,” Galaen said as she left her shelter and her eyes went strictly back to the glass capsules that had been stopped again. “Spirits,” it escaped her grimly. The wall next to the conveyor hooks resembled an army of vermin, hundreds of Runners, who easily stuck to the steel with hands and feet like spiders and swarmed down.

Stemford hurried to the edge of the lookout with his assault rifle at the ready. “And it doesn’t look any better at the top!” he said, facing a similar scene, except that the Runners were already on this side and their red eyes were fixed on their target. Nothing but mindless animals, on the prowl, but fortunately this group was still manageably small. “At least there aren’t that many of them yet, but this is going to be extremely tough! Plans?!”

“Dorvan, how much long-?!” Galaen turned round and faltered abruptly, but not out of fear. “Dorvan?”

A lone Runner clung to the bot’s back, tapping fruitlessly against its steel. “Yes?” the davoc listened, without making the slightest effort to throw the tick off or even notice it.

Galaen was just as unsure about this and pulled out her MP, but she didn’t want to shoot plasma at the runner and possibly damage the avatar. “Do you need help?”

“Help? The amount of data is way to much to handle for y-” said the bot, turning its head 180 degrees. “Oh, no. That’s harmless. One second.” Six metal spikes shot out of Dorvan’s back and pierced the Runner. He faltered, but stubbornly stayed alive, spitting dark blood, before the Avatar finished him off with a hefty electric shock and, after the spikes retracted, the creature fell to the ground. “I have already downloaded dozens of projects, the evidence of which is undeniable. Not even corrupt politicians and PGI allies could deny or cover it up.”

“That sounds fantastic, but our other problem won’t go away by itself,” Stemford warned and began firing volleys into the air, supported by two of his soldiers. Now it was raining falling, screaming Runners, but it couldn’t go on like this. “What now, troop supervisor?”

“We have to hold our ground!” Galaen ordered, joining her comrades to stop the threat from above from getting any closer. Unfortunately, that was all she could think of, but she had to give her soldiers the feeling that it was a plan. “Plant some sticky bombs around the edges and in the room! We need as much time as possible!” One thing was certain for the Palanian and the rest - if the bulk of the mass beyond the abyss, travelling towards the ground, reached the vantage point, they wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“67.3 degrees,” Dorvan suggested, remaining steadfast at his terminal. “One well-aimed shot is all it takes.”

No one understood him and Galaen asked in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”

“The weak point of the system,” the bot explained calmly, stretching his left arm out to the side. A targeting laser shone from his finger and marked a double bundled, enormous line next to the glass capsules. “Waste alley and main power supply flow through these points. An explosion would take out this entire production section with a 99 per cent probability and destroy almost all the enemy.”

“Ninety-nine?!” Galaen’s alarm bells rang. “What about the one per cent and aren’t we going to blow up the whole station?”

“According to the schematics, there are emergency shutdowns in every section in case a fire breaks out,” said Dorvan, calculating like a machine. “And the one per cent is the X factor, which is always there. So you can choose between guaranteed death by runner or extremely unlikely death by explosion.”

“Conclusive argument,” Galaen admitted pragmatically, even if she doubted that this was Dorvan’s brand of gallows humour. “Do we still have missiles?”

“Yes, ma’am!” nodded Stemford, calling in the heavy artillery. “You’ve heard it! A perfect shot at the marked target!”

“I’m on it, sir!” said a human holding a portable missile launcher in his hands and aiming at the lines.

“The shock radius is getting critical,” Dorvan remarked. “Cover would be advisable.”

“He says that now!” shook Galaen’s head as the missile went off. “Get your heads down, everyone! Fire!”

Undeterred by the approaching projectile, the Runners continued to swarm over the wall until the missile hit its target. Immediately, the massive, burgeoning flames were amplified by the aforementioned gas pouring out of the ruptured pipe and a voracious roller spread in a flash along both directions of the pipe. Glass capsules shattered or were effortlessly ripped from their hooks, if they were not broken from their mounts by the explosion, and as flying scrap they peeled entire groups of runners from the wall, if the monsters were not caught in the flames. Nowhere were the enemies safe, as the lines split into divergent secondary tributaries in some places, so that the fire tore more and more of the factory area to its doom and the force of the explosions became so powerful that the glass on the stairs to the lookout point was shattered and the shocks, including the jet flames, were more than noticeable to Team Glass Eye. However, the eruptions didn’t last too long and the fire receded until there was nothing left but clinking glass and the dull sound of bodies crashing to the ground.

“That wasn’t much short of the one per cent!” Galaen breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the result. Not a capsule was still in place and not an enemy in sight. “But it was probably more than enough.”

“Yes!” Stemford agreed, looking back up at the vantage point where a few lone runners had somehow managed not to fall or burn, but he didn’t care, and he put his rifle on. “Now those few are just better target practice.”

“Very good Lieutenant. To the rest - take up positions!” Galaen instructed and returned to the hacker. “Everything all right with you?”

“Everything is running smoothly,” Dorvan reported, a certain fascination in his voice. “Each new file is just a superfluous extra that proves PGI’s guilt, although I have come across a rather interesting point. Would you like to know more about it?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You’ve probably already guessed it, but the data confirms that Trident Three is a factory intended for the production of ships and troops, equipped with the technology of the First. Unfortunately, there’s no mention of exactly what it’s for, but the name Operation Solaris Downfall keeps coming up.”

This name was too unique to be a mere coincidence for Galaen. “Solaris? Like the Solaris company?”

“It’s not mentioned in the data, but it’s an obvious guess,” said Dorvan with conviction, even though his best efforts didn’t help. “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any mention of what the aim of this operation is. Only that troops are to be produced for it, which is often mentioned.”

“Keep searching! We still have time!” said Galaen, holding back her worries. Solaris, the First - was a new war looming? Were the dreaded enemies of old on the march again? Whatever it was, the galaxy needed to know about these things! Galaen knew, however, that this could only be the case if a soul made it away with the captured data from Trident Three and that, in turn, was now in the hands of the fleet.