Welp its that time of year again when all the plot bunnies in my brain go out and multiply. Hope you guys like this one...
The dim oranges lights of the firbolg's interior painted each of the six soldiers' black and white armor in a warm glow. As it flew the hull of the small ship shuddered from the occasional small debris bouncing off the extirior as it bucked side to side to avoid the larger chunks. The pilot, a younger clone fresh from his training, swore as a particularly violent impact jolted the sole monitor that served as his view of the frigid void outside. A quick smack brought the shoddily built electronics back in line, the clone switching his communications device to a full bandwidth broad cast. For a moment the clone chewed on his inner cheek and listened, his thin hulled vessel maneuvering slowly through clouds of organic and metal debris. Taking a deep breath the clone pressed a large button near his view screen, "Uhguhst tok uk mhm forr, klus firbolg vorhd uk, gar kuhpeh?" His query was met with worrisome static as the firbolg swept closer to a crippled galleon floating above Mars. Thirty minutes ago the pilot's home galleon had received a distress signal from galleon August 21-M4 in static orbit over Vallis. Command had deemed it a potential tenno attack and dispatched a force of three galleons with an attachment of special forces troops aboard the lead ship. As the ships neared their crippled sister it became all to obvious how the ship had been brought down. The massive hulk of flesh protruding from August 21-M4's port side had once been a Corpus Obelisk-class ship. The chrome pillar had been cracked in half by tendrils of milky white flesh that now caressed the galleon's battered hull, a massive impact fissure concealing the distinctive hammer shape of the merchant's prow. The largest clone in the small ship stepped forward behind the pilot, his posture slightly hunched in order to accommodate the tall helmet signifying his rank. Like his brothers he was clad in thick layers of ferrite armor painted in a rounded black and white tiger stripped pattern. A sheev sat strapped in a pseudo-leather sheath on his right shoulder and a stubba sub-machine gun rested at his hip. Unlike the other clones crammed into the tiny vessel a thick metal shield painted to match his armor rested on his forearm, its bulk concealing a simple yet brutal axe. The lenses of his helmet cast a crimson glare on the yellowed monitor as he inspected their target.
"Lhak klos?" The pilot gave a slight shrug as the transport slowed slightly, the feed from it's external cameras dominated by the mostly intact hanger section of the orbiting galleon. "Lahd us." As the transport slowed to a halt within the galleon's hanger the commander turned to the odd man out in the squad. His suit was painted the same dark gray and white camouflage as his allies, a heavily modified argonak special forces rifle and jattuk jet pack sat firmly on his armored back and the same stubba model sub-machine gun was magnetized to his hip opposite a Grineer made krohkur sword that gleamed in the lights of the transport. His frame, however, was much more lithe than his bulky brethren, thin plates of metal augmented by shields and micro weave armor graced a body built for speed and precision as well as power rivaling that of most clones. Black pipes ran along the jawline of a slightly ovular helmet made of overlapping metal plates and capped with a bronze protrusion set partially between two circular crimson lenses. The frame was barely recognizable as an Excalibur, bulbous maggor armor on top of Grineer designed augmentations further obscuring it's original form, yet it still held all the power and gravitas of an Orokin Tenno. The commander gave his second in command a quick gesture, the warframe switching its argonak's targeting system on before each of the clones packed in behind it followed suit and turned towards the tiny ship's sole exit.
Thin crimson beams slipped through the heavy clouds of spores and dust filling the galleon's tight corridors. For a precious few seconds the Grineer soldiers waited, the targeting lasers of their assault rifles tracing slowly over wriggling nubs of fleshy infestation protruding from the floor and walls. The commander glanced back and forth between his men before signaling for them to move up towards the blast door at the end of the corridor. One of the soldiers quietly rushed towards the door the other five taking up a small semi circle nearly ten feet from the locked aperture. As the marine began fiddling with the security override a gurgling scream echoed through the galleon, red lenses darting through the haze of filth in search of whatever ghastly thing could have made such a sound. The clone barely had time to react as the grate above him was torn apart, a vile mess of flesh, metal, and environmental suit dropping from above and tearing into the clone's shoulders and neck with frenzied strikes. Echoing thunder filled the hallway as magazines were emptied into the horror, the thing stumbling and toppling over as the commander advanced, axe at the ready. He stepped over his mangled subordinate and planted a metal foot on a fleshy limb of the deformed mass. As it writhed in a last ditch attempt to get away he drew and raised his axe, a grim smirk on his face.
"Rhue, gar sono ba horio!" Even after being cleaved from the main body what the soldiers could only assume had once been a crewman's head began feebly squirming away from its executioner. Growling his gaze swept between his men, each save the warframe seeming at least mildly disturbed. "Legger te peremeter," As his men complied the commander signaled to the marine closest to the door. "Uppen do dor."
They came in an endless tide of flesh, writhing monstrosities clambering over the fallen and clawing up the walls, their gut-wrenching shrieks nearly drowning out the steady thundering of Grineer-made firearms. Four remained, the men desperately holding an elevator shaft. A cry of "Swabbin mags!" was followed shortly after by a roar as a blue-carapaced quadruped pounced on the marine, claws rending armor and flesh alike. Frantically the soldier plunged his sheev into the thing's gut and heaved with every bit of strength he had left. The commander grabbed his hand and began dragging him back, his stubba spitting fire towards the oncoming creatures, as they pounced on their wounded brother. The commander glanced back towards his two remaining soldiers, the warframe and clone pouring ammunition down the hallway and adding to the piles of dead infested. He barely felt the vile appendage burrow into his flesh as the elevator cranked open, relative safety only feet away. Feeling a sharp tug his eyes widened, panic staring through the lenses of his helmet as the thin line of flesh slowly dragged his armored bulk back into the waiting hordes of infested, a braver few leaping on him as he clawed at the ground. The remaining two soldiers of Sword 1 dove into the elevator, the door closing on the pleading screams of their doomed comrades.
It was a long ride. The only exchange between the two men was to check on each others health, both responding that they were fine. Both lied. The warframe was favoring his right leg, the calf carved open by the still living torso of a corpus crewman. As for the clone, he had taken the full force of one of the creatures exploding into a cloud of spores resulting in a hoarse cough. The infection had begun spreading through his respiratory system.
Her sense returned in a haze of pain as a body left unused for centuries crashed against the frigid chrome floor. Panicked she fumbled uselessly about, thunderous cracks intermingled with inhuman screams assailing her oversensitive ears. Her grasping fingers ploughed into a wall, the young woman recoiling from the unseen obstruction. Moving like a corned animal she shuffled backwards until her shoulders met the cold ferrite of an operating table. A few more loud cracks sent her tumbling along the edge of the table in a desperate attempt to stop the shooting pain in her head. For a precious moment the room was silent save her sobbing. Then the glass separating her chrome plated enclosure from the hall shattered.
The fighting had taken it's toll on Excalibur, the warframe barely holding off his former ally as the clone sprayed foaming spittle and mucus over then former's helmet optics. As it scrabbled at his armor, teeth and nails scraping ineffectually off metal, the warframe heaved, the infected mass of armor and flesh lifted off the Orokin war machine and smashed against one of the overly clean lined walls of a corpus laboratory. As the Excalibur stood the maddened clone charged at him, springing up form all fours to gnash at the warframe's neck with misshapen and jagged teeth. No! Between his legs a slender form battered his calf wound, her terrified sobs punctuated by roars from the deranged Grineer marine as the clone pinned the warframe against a wall. Shifting his weight onto his good leg, the warframe drew his stubba and rammed it beneath the thick armored plates protecting the rotten flesh of the last clone to enter the sticken vessel. The gun whirred to life, metal riddling the deranged clone as the creature fell backwards towards a crying human woman. In an instant the clone, half his flesh turned to rotten slough by the infection, whipped towards the human, her reddened eyes locking with the crimson circles on the Excalibur's face plate. Make it stop!
The warframe's mind went blank, the corrupted remains of his former ally turning from the fresh flesh in front of it to the Orokin war-machine as the black armored warrior launched itself forwards with impossible speed. The former comrades grappled on the ground, mechanized power against infested resilience, until with a hollow hiss the Excalibur warframe smashed the infected clone's head against the hard chrome floor. Spores and brain matter erupted from the former marine's skull as the warframe hammered the clone with relentless blows, the losing combatant's malformed arms slapping feebly off the Orokin built bio-machine until armored fists met badly dented chrome. Help…Turning his head the Excalibur locked eyes with the young woman. Please, someone… Blood and viscera dripped from the Excalibur as he stood, slow, measured steps taking him closer towards the terrified human. With the care of a mother holding a newborn the war-machine slowly lifted the woman into his arms.
Grineer Translations
"August two, one, M, four this is firbolg sword one, do you copy?"
"What is that?"
"Land us."
"Die, you son of a whore!"
"Secure the perimeter."
"Open the door."
"Swapping mags!"
Seeing as this is one of the few stories that pop into my head where I know how I want it to go from the start I'll do my best to update on a bi-weekly basis. Please feel free to yell at me in DMs or reviews if I don't :D