Hello. I am Val, and welcome to this fic that will allow you a glimpse into the dark and twisted reaches of my mind! Please wipe your feet, hang your coat, grab a seat, and relax as we explore this tale of the Legion. The Legion is an alien race responsible for systematically culling most intelligent life in the Black Eye galaxy to the point of near extinction.
Sounds like nice fellows, yes?
Am I going to tell you more? No. Well, not in this AU, but in the story below.
Before you get there, however, I would like to ask one thing of you. Can I do that? If you have suggestions, questions, or you just want to talk to me, send me a private message and we can talk about... Whatever. Don't be a stranger!
The Legion is a strange species. Their original name is lost to the mists of time, as is their original appearance. In the centuries that they had to advance their civilisation, they had made a great effort in developing better forms of technology. In a mere two centuries, they had already explored and colonized their planet. They had worked for centuries, building great cities in the underground spaces, with the deadly dark matter storms raging day after day, not ceasing for a second.
After that, they turned to look not to the world around them, but to themselves. And by turning their gaze inwards, they saw that they could not persevere, scattered as they were.
In the many years that followed, they had organized themselves in a grand, democratic republic that spanned the entire planet.
It was something that a human would call a "perfect world". There was a council, every opinion was listened to, every action was decided by a majority vote, and there was relatively little war.
This didn't last, of course. No society that developes this way does.
Eight decades later, with simultanious attacks on key republic targets, civil war broke out on Khen'zet, the Legion's homeworld. Though calling it a war may be an overstatement. The agressors of this conflict, lead by their warlord who was only ever known was 'The Queen', caught the republic off guard, decimated it, and executed its leadership in only five years.
The agressors became the modern Legion, and a new order asserted itself on Khen'zet. The Queen herself now lives in isolation in her palace, her armies were since lead by her trusted aide, Captain-General Kavrius. When he died, he left leadership of the Legion to his most trusted aide, and so on.
The Legion we know today is lead by a cyborg named Captain-General Konrad. And under him stand the illustrious Lord-Commanders, the best that the Legion has to offer.
Each of these Legionaries is no stranger to war, and none of them are above the idea of joint campaigns. But the entirety of the Legion marching as one to overcome a single threat? Now that is something that had only happened once before.
This occurrence was called a 'Deathmarch'.
Now, the Legion launched a Deathmarch once more. "But why?" I hear you think, what enemy could possibly prompt the Legion to act like that? Simple, it was a single species who's population exploded from their smog-plagued industrial world of Argus Prime, first to the entirety of their home system, and then to the rest of the galaxy.
This is humanity, a species evolved from cave-trotting primates into an intergalactic corporatocracy that thrived on its exploitation of natural resources and labour of its people. They didn't live long and almost constantly fought amongst themselves, and their less than optimal living conditions did not help in the least.
Naturally, their sudden expansion brought them into conflict with the Legion, and war was all but inevitable between the two galactic superpowers.
The heaviest fighting was already over, now all that was left was to mop up whatever was left of human civilisation outside of the Argus system. One of the fleets responsible for this had come under attack.
A combined fleet lead by Lady-Commander Rakana.
(Y)
The small vessel was rocked as a salvo of missiles impacted its side, and the crewmen buckled. They all looked the same. Tall, menacing, encased in black armour. Their faces were covered with masks that each bore a stylized skull. All of them clutched the rifles in their hands.
They were Legionaries.
"Several hard projectile impacts detected. Starboard thruster destabilized. Damage contained, deploying repair drones." A deep, monotonous voice sounded over the vessel's hailer, piercing the rumbling of the combat outside.
"Belay that, focus additional power to forward shields and thrusters, stay the course. Rest of you, prepare for boarding action."
This deep and grating voice belonged to the one Legionary who looked different from the others. This one had several red streaks over his armour, as well a white mask instead of the usual black. In addition to a larger rifle, this one also bore a saber. An odd choice of weaponry from a human's standpoint. Deadly and effective in close quarters, as well as a symbol of authority from a Legionary's standpoint.
"Is that wise, Captain? We might not even make it to the target." One of the identical soldiers objected, and he wasn't entirely wrong. The boarding craft they were flying had already taken critical damage.
"Objection noted, sergeant." The Captain answered. "Pilot, resume orders." The Legionary that spoke up did not respond, he knew the Captain was right. They had no choice but to keep going, and the Legion did not smile upon useless loss of life.
"Acknowledged, Captain. Course set. Collision in T-minus 30 seconds."
A whirring noise resounded through the small vessel, and its occupants were rocked from side to side as it strove to dodge the incoming fire from the surrounding enemy ships.
"20 seconds."
Bright purplish light shone into the vessel's windows, caused by the thrusters that were mounted to its side.
"10 seconds."
Even from the side windows, the target ship was now visible, indicating their very close proximity to their target.
"Brace for impact!"
(Y)
Admiral Gerard DeGrey's life had, thus far, been a violent one. The Legion was already at war with humanity when he was born, he himself was conscripted into the military when he came of age. He then spent his first decade moving from planet to planet, somehow surviving each battle against the militaristic aliens.
He had been through much, he even lived through life as a Legion prisoner. Years ago, during a routine patrol, Gerard's small fleet had been ambushed by a Talon raiding party.
The Talons are a Legionary morphology that specializes in hit-and-run attacks and ambushes. They slaughtered his men, and those that resisted the most were taken prisoner, including DeGrey himself. If one were to ask him, he would have preferred death over life as a Legion captive.
The Talons were without a doubt the most hedonistic regiment that served the Legion, they were the type to cradle and caress you just as soon as rip your beating heart out of your chest and squeeze it out so the blood would drench their uniforms.
It was specifically those Legionaries that Gerard had prayed never to see again. Now, however, it seemed that fate had denied him.
As he looked out of the window, he had immediatly recognized the flagship of the Legion Deathmarch fleet. Although he had never seen this ship in person beforehand, he had seen it in last transmissions of patrols that were sent along the ever expanding Legion border.
This was the Reven'kauv, flagship of Lady-Commander Rakana, leader of the Talons.
His brow ached from how much he was frowning, trying to come up with plans to salvage this lost battle against one of the Legion's most vicious regiments. A sudden report from an officer brought him out of his brainstorming session.
"Hull breach detected on deck 5!" Was the report this officer gave him. This briefly confused DeGrey, did this terrifying yet magnificent ship posses ordinance so large that it would bypass their shielding entirely? No, there were no visible guns on the Reven'kauv or any other Legion vessel that could fire something like that.
"Damage report!" Gerard ordered, he needed to know what had entirely bypassed the shielding on a dreadnaught.
"One of the fuel lines is damaged and there's a fire on board, but we- Sir! Sensors detect Legionaries on board, we've been boarded!" Now he felt a cold sweat running down his back, this was exactly how the Talons operated. It wouldn't be long before he would recieve panicked reports filled with the blood-chilling shrieks of Talon operatives.
"Is it the Talons?" He asked. He was nearly certain, but he needed to know absolutely for sure.
"Camera feeds re-established, sir! It's the Firstborn!"
This confused him. It wasn't unheard of for the Legion's Firstborn to attempt such a reckless boarding action, it was actually the opposite, they were known for tactics like this! Gerard was simply too fixated on the Talons to anticipate anything else.
"Deploy Navy Armsmen to intercept the boarding party!"
(Y)
In the burning wreckage of the boarding craft, a piece of metal debris was lifted and thrown to the ground. From under it emerged the white-masked Captain. As he rose, so did the rest of his squad, or what was left of it...
Groaning from their prone positions on the ground, they slowly pushed themselves up.
"Casualty report. Now." The Captain growled.
"Sir! Three confirmed deaths during the impact, including the pilot. We must have hit something like a power line, which caused the explosion. The rest of us are ready for orders." One of his men reported, the first one that had risen up and had recovered from the shock of their entrance. What he said also explained the sudden fires. Luckily, Legionaries had a natural resistance to intense heat.
"You two!" The Captain began, pointing at two random Legionaries. "You will disable this ship's escape pods and prevent any enemies from escaping."
"Understood!" The two said in unison.
"And you four!" The Captain continued, this time pointing at four other Legionaries. You will go to the engineering deck and rig it to explode, utilize the demolition charges you have been provided."
"Acknowledged, sir!"
"The rest of you move with me to capture the control room. Once the sabotage teams have finished their work, we will all regroup there. One last thing, all of you are to be on the lookout for a map terminal and download any schematics you can find. We are the Firstborn!" He finished.
"The Legion's fist!"
(Y)
To the Legionaries, the blocky, utilitarian halls of the human flagship were barely adequate. The lights shone bright, contrasted by the darker interior of the dropship-turnt-boarding pod in wich they arrived. The halls were cramped, and made their 225cm height more of a burden than it had to be.
None of this bothered them to the extreme as they dashed through the ship, tirelessly looking for their respective objectives.
"This ship is a maze..." The first one complained. "Why didn't we recieve map data?"
"This ship is shielded against scan-technology," Explained the other one. One would think they would sound winded, given that they had been sprinting since they boarded, only stopping to recieve orders. But it was quite the contrary, they sounded like they could go on for days. "it's why we couldn't track it without the Lidless Eyes' help. Didn't you pay attention in the briefing?"
"I was busy clearing the debris. How are we sure we're headed in the right direction now?"
"We're not." The second deadpanned.
"So we are just blindly running through this maze without even knowing in which direction we need to go?"
"Until we find a map terminal it's our only option."
"Well-" Started the first, only to be interrupted by the first.
"Hostiles spotted." He said, not stopping or even slowing in their pace.
A relatively small force of human soldiers stood amassed at the far end of the hallway, seemingly waiting for them.
"Charge through them, break their line."
"Understood. For the Queen!"
Bullets made a tinging noise as they bounced of Legion armour, and the Legionaries themselves didn't even seem hurt. On the contrary, they began to run faster.
The alien soldiers reached the makeshift blockade, and on the last step, they kicked off the ground and shoulder-bashed into the human Armsmen. The ones standing in the front were the most unlucky. Most were not dead, but they wished they were. This particular Legionary morphology, the Firstborn, focused on developing the leg muscles and fortifying the shoulders specifically for the purpose of charging, ramming, and shoulder bashing. Add to that the density of their armour, and how it is focused on their heads and shoulders, and you have a person-sized battering ram.
And that was exactly what the survivors felt as they agonized over their shattered bones and ruptured organs, bleeding on the inside all the while. The soldiers in the back of the line? They got off incredibly lucky, having only been left with heavy bruises.
The Legionaries cared little for the suffering of their enemies, and dashed onwards.
However, just as they were about to round the corner, a surviving human marine shakily lined his rifle up to one of the aliens' backs, and pulled the trigger.
It was a known fact that the Legionaries of the Firstborn were assault specialists. This lead to them placing the bulk of their armour on their breastplates, shoulders, and helmets, leaving little to protect their backs.
The shots hit home, piercing through the weak back armour and damaging the flesh underneath. A noise was heard through the hall, it was a mix between a grunt and a scream, and it was mechanically distorted.
This was the cry of the wounded Legionary.
He faltered in his hasty steps, and ended up falling on all fours. The other quickly stopped and turned to see his prone comrade behind him. He dashed back towards him, discharging his weapon as he went. The alien rifle made a sound very much akin to laughing. For this reason, they were often called 'Hyenas.'
'Three round burst, all hit. Target terminated.' A human screamed as his insides were perforated.
'Single shot, hit. Target terminated.' Another human didn't have the time to scream as remnants of his brain painted the floor in front of him.
'Target too close for weapon fire, initiate melee attack.' The last human spewed words in a hurried and sloppy fashion as he stared at the Firstborn boot closing in on his face at a terrifying pace.
'Target terminated.'
When he finally reached his fallen friend, there were no longer any survivors.
"4487 is down. Orders?" The other spoke over his helmet communicator.
"Stabilize him and continue your assignment." Was the Captain's response.
Not wasting any more time, the unharmed Legionary retrieved a med-pack from one of his many pouches and pockets, and placed it over his comrade's chest.
Legionaries, by nature, took longer to recover from flesh wounds. If one were to be stabbed and left the wound untreated, it would still be there a week later. This is why the Legion took great steps to advance their medical technology. The med-packs that these Legionaries were equipped with used nanites to significantly boost their natural healing. These were among the less potent, but it would be enough to get the wounded Legionary back on his feet.
As the green glow from the device closed his comrade's wounds, the other Firstborn turned to make sure the area was secure, and to see if all enemies had been executed.
His attention was drawn by a beeping noise. It was muffled, but he was able to detect the noise just fine.
He stalked across the broken bodies of the human soldiers, hearing the noise fade and rise as he went from corner to corner.
Finally, he had reached the source of the high-pitched beeping, it came from underneath the body of human. He gingerly reached with his hand to turn over the body despite his instincts telling him otherwise. As the body was slowly lifted, a red, flashing light came from underneath it. Before he could command his body to drop the corpse, pick up 4487, and run as far as he could, the body was already flipped. A sharp 'ting' noise was heard, as if someone pulled the pin on a... On a...
...on a grenade.
His eyes darted to the corpse's chest. Lo and behold, there were two grenades kept on a bandolier, one of which was missing its pin. As fast as he could, he stood to full height and made a break over to his recovering friend.
He couldn't see it, but his irises flashed in a pale, yellow light. All Legionary morphologies shared several traits, one of which were their bioluminescent eyes that lit up whenever they felt strong emotions. This particular colour, yellow, represents fear, surprise, and fright.
The world around him seemed to freeze as his mind worked harder than ever before to salvage this situation.
'Grenade primed and counting to detonation, solutions?'
'Dodge?'
'Denied. Hallway is too small, blast is radius too big, risk of comrade dying unacceptable.'
'Block the blast?'
'Propose means.'
'Our armour is sturdy enough to survive blast. Cover the bomb, contain the explosion, mitigate the damage, save our comrade. Uphold the mission.'
'Solution exposes light armour body parts to blast and sharpnel. Risk of death is high.'
'Comrade lives, fulfills the objective, complete the mission. Risk acceptable. Death acceptable. For the Queen.'
Snapping out of his brainstorm, the Legionary wasted no time diving on the grenades and holding them as close to his chest as he could. As long as his armour took the brunt of the explosion, 4487 could survive the blast and carry on with the mission. Of course, this method put himself at extreme risk of death by point-blank explosion, but it would be better than having them both die and their objective be a failure.
The grenades detonated. The first thing he felt was the sudden shock that ripped through him and burst his eardrums, then came the wave of heat that washed over him. But it was the next thing that caused him the most pain; the shrapnel.
Little shards of metal bounced off his central breastplate and his mask and helmet, as expected. What was also expected, but far less pleasant, was that the shards ripped through his arms, and dug into his legs. But by far the most damning of it all was the shard, that one lucky piece of shrapnel, that pierced his neck and opened up his windpipe.
So there he was, lying on the bloodsoaked floor, choking, and with pain radiating from his limbs. As he struggled to cling to life as best he could, he slowly turned his head to 4487. He had almost recovered from his wounds and was staggering over the dying Legionary.
Maybe he lamented the fact that he couldn't even get enough air for some final words, or maybe he hated the fact that he couldn't live on to kill more enemies of the Legion. The truth of the matter is simply that no one will ever find out. As the lack of air was about to be the end of him, the last thing he saw was 4487 crouching over him.
(Y)
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
When a Legionary is selected to join a regiment, they typically have their right arm replaced with a cybernetic one. These mechanical arms are stronger than their organic counterparts, and carry several utility tools like knives and lighters. They would also serve as symbols of status.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
It was with this right arm that this Legionary was beating a human's face in.
"I, uh, I think it's dead." Another Legionary interjected between the rythmic punching sound. He was just as identical as his comrade, to the point that the only way to tell the two apart was the blood that splattered on their armour.
"Wait for it..." The punching one started.
Thwack! Thwack! Crrck!
"There we go."
A sickening crunching sound prodded him to finally stop, it was the sound of a human skull caving in. It was made even more apparent as the head of said human collapsed inward and blood shot out of every orifice on it. The body hit the floor with a resounding 'Thud!'
"You done?" The second Legionary asked.
"Just about, what's the status on the map data?" The first one asked. He was by far the most blood-spattered, in the sense that one would think he had a red suit instead of the standard black.
The fourth Legionary stood by a nearby terminal, the largest in the room. It displayed a layout of the ship and any major locations on it. However, all these alien soldiers were interested in was how to get to engineering from where they were now, and now they knew how.
"Data secured. Captain, stand by for map data." He reported over his commlink.
"Data recieved, resume primary objective." Was the Captain's response. As he said this, a small map popped up in the corner of their helmets' HUD.
"Copy." signaled the end of the conversation, which made the Legionary adress the rest of the squad. "Our objective is on deck 4, there is a service elevator that can take us there."
"We could get there faster if we go to the canteen, blow a hole in the cieling, and climb through there." One suggested, the others immediatly shot the idea down, saying "And waste the charges that we need to complete the objective? No, we're going with the elvator."
"Alright, lead the way."
(Y)
Back in the control room things were getting tense as the humans had to fend off both the Legion fleet they were locked in battle with, as well as the boarding party that made increasing progress to key areas of the ship. The only real relief they got was the sheer fact that a detachment of that boarding party was caught by a booby-trap, but that was really it.
"The Entitled is destroyed sir! Our flank is collapsing!" Came yet another report filled with bad news, Gerard had lost count of how many of those he had already recieved.
"Reposition the Ironclad. All other ships, maintain formation! What's the progress on the Legion boarders?"
"They've taken a service elevator and are rapidly aproaching engineering, sir. We've lost contact with that part of the ship. We've also lost track of the other squad."
Gerard was about to give the order to box the Legionaries when they arrived on the engineering deck, but a sudden noise drew most of the bridge crew's attention. It was a noise not unlike some sort of high-pitched laughing, but it sounded... Wrong.
And it wasn't just one sound. Oh no, this sound seemed to come from five distinct sources, all close together. They all seemed to come from behind the door to the control room.
As seconds passed and the sounds drew closer, DeGrey could also hear the frantic shooting and shouting of his own Navy Armsmen, which only got fainter as the long seconds passed by. He slowly reached for his own pistol.
And then all sounds stopped, and a deathly silence fell over the bridge. The ship's klaxon was but a distant drone.
Gerard was silently praying for something to finally disturb the maddening silence. His prayers were seemingly answered, but not in the way he had expected.
The tip of a sword emerged from between the doors, followed by a stream of sparks as it moved to slowly cut the door open.
"The control room has been compromised! Set up a defensive line while the crew evacuates!" Were his hasty orders. He wanted to buy as much time as he could, but deep down he knew they were already dead.
Whatever Legionary was breaching the door was close to being done, and the men had barely finished positioning themselves. Gerard took the time to remember his brothers in arms, the ones that saved him from the clutches of the Talons, and the ones that were about to die with him right now.
"C'mon, bleakshits! I'm right here, come and get me!" Emil Rawart, he had a burning hatred for the Legion's Firstborn, the very regiment that was about to burst through the door. He must feel great, having the chance to get a bit of revenge before the end.
"We're gonna die here..." Josephine Steward, she had been the medic of Gerard's team when he was just another grunt. She saved him of so many injuries, and now she would save him again, even if it was only a few seconds.
"Remember, go for their backs!" Mark Rawart, Emil's calmer brother. He would not flinch in the face of death, he never did, and he won't now. He was a good kid, the kind who couldn't find it in himself to hate anything, even something as vile as the Legion.
"Anyone got any last words?" Erick Davann, perhaps the best sniper DeGrey had ever come across. He only had one eye, a Legion sniper shot the other. That was the only time Erick had been bested by another sniper.
Gerard drew in a breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled. When his eyes opened, they were filled with determination. The kind you often see in soldiers making a last stand against certain death.
"Just four; not one step back!"
Scant seconds later, the door burst open inwards and five Legionaries, lead by one wearing a white mask, charged in and started shooting. Their guns made that laughing noise that haunted many a human soldier's dreams.
"Dii ruvako! Attra!!" Roared the one in the white mask, he could only guess at what it was saying, he didn't have a translator after all. But it sounded like it was giving orders.
DeGrey and his men returned fire, determined to hold out long enough to save his crew's life. Unsurprisingly, their bullets just bounced off the Firstborns' thick front armour. If they were killshots, it would have been an embarrasment.
It was a good thing those shots were only a distraction.
"Frag out!" Yelled Mark while throwing a grenade. It was summarily backhanded to the other end of the room. Now, normally that wouldn't much of a concern as both groups were well out of its radius, except...
It landed against the window.
The explosion blew a large hole in the glass. Without it, everyone in the room was exposed to the vacuum of space, and had to cling to anything they could for dear life to avoid being spaced.
Nearly everyone in the room was lucky enough to endure the vortex by holding on to nearby workstations, monitors, and even each other. Mark, however, was not so fortunate.
The vortex tore him to the other end of the room, where he tried to grab on a metal beam. Sadly, he was was knocked into space by a Legionary who also failed to hold on to something. Together, they tumbled into space, and seemingly dissapeared as the blastshields closed over the broken window.
"MAAARK!!" Emil shouted, his eyes were filled with rage and grief as he turned to recklessly charge at the tall, dark, alien soldiers. "YOU BASTAAARDS!!"
"No don't! Emil, you idiot!" Gerard tried to call out. But Emil continued to charge at the Firstborn Captain who was just waiting for him, sword in hand.
With combat knife in hand Emil jumped on the Captain, intent on jamming it in the alien's neck. "I'LL KILL YO-" Just before he could, however, he found his own neck stuck in his target's iron grip. The way its sword was angled, he could only guess that the weapon's next destination was in his chest.
"Kiv'a Khen." Hissed the Captain.
As a final gesture of defiance, he spit on its white mask. The Captain wasn't having it, and thrusted his sword in just below Emil's ribs, so far that it poked out of his shoulder.
"Emil! Damnit!" Gerard cursed, he knew they wouldn't survive, but he expected his group to last a bit longer. "Maintain formation! Eri-"
"Ooman skuum!"
"Ahh! Gerard!" He suddenly heard Josephine call. He turned to look just in time as a one of the Firstborn had used his riflebutt to knock her to the ground, and stepped on her chest to keep her there. The sheer weight that the Legionary was putting on her prevented her from even breathing, so all she could really do was mouth the words "Help me" in Gerard's general direction.
He didn't have time to do anything before that very same Legionary opened fire on the pinned medic's head at point blank.
With only Gerard and Erick left, the sniper being way out of his element in this confined space, the Firstborns' victory was assured.
"C'mere you fucker!" He heard Erick shout as he rose from cover just in time to take the brunt of a shoulder charge. As the Legionary didn't have that much momentum, Erick was only knocked to the floor. That, however, didn't mean he wasn't in pain. He wasn't suffering for long, as the Legionary quickly emptied the rest of its gun's magazine into his chest.
Now it was just Gerard on the bridge. The haunting noises of the Firstborn rifles had ceased, and he poked his head out of his cover. The identical troops were just standing there, guns raised, fingers on the triggers, but they weren't taking the very clear shot they had at his head.
Looking over to the white-masked Captain, he saw that he had his hand raised, signaling a cease fire order. Then he parted the fingers of his raised hands, another order rolled into a gesture. To answer this order, the three remaining Legionaries spread out and surrounded Gerard from all sides, but they still didn't open fire.
What drew his attention back in front of him were the steps of the Captain, who he noticed just in time to be impaled on his sword.
In the final moments of Admiral Gerard DeGrey, he thought he was lucky, having succeeded in his goal to never fight the Talons again. Had the searing pain of the Firstborn pseudo-energy sword not been paralizing him, he would have thanked the Captain holding it for allowing him to avoid a guesome death by Talon claws.
(Y)
"Sweep the area, execute any survivors." The Captain ordered after pushing the assumed human captain off his sword with his boot.
"Copy." Came the reply from one, who immediatly got to carrying out the order, with the rest following suit. They stepped through the room, checking each and every body. One of them tapped the body of the human female he had crushed and executed, its head had come apart. Another spotted the body of the human sharpshooter that was in way over its head, and it died for it.
"Check complete, sir. No survivors." Another reported.
"Good." The Captain now activated his commlink. 'Demolition team, status report.'
"Demolition team reporting, sir. We encountered resistance but the charges are set and ready to detonate." Was the response. It all seemed well, but experience made the Captain think that there was a 'but' coming up.
"But" he needed to conciously resist the urge to roll his eyes. "4490 didn't make it, crushed under a bulkhead, we couldn't salvage his body. Well, not all of it."
"We will press on, for the Queen." He thought back to the Legionary that got sucked into space when the window broke. "Was this your only casualty?"
"Yes sir. The rest of us are ready for orders." The Legionary's voice took on a more serious tone, whereas it turned somber when he mentioned 4490.
"The bridge has been taken, regroup with the sabotage team and join us there."
"Sir, the sabotage team have failed in their task and the non-combat crew of the ship has escaped. In addition, they have neglected to report in."
"We can't afford to stall because of them, we'll need to assume they are dead for the time being. Your objective has not changed, however, report to the bridge." He didn't keep the conversation going long enough to hear a response. Instead, he opened another channel.
"Firstborn Captain Orv to Lady-Commander Rakana. The flagship has been secured." The Captain reported over his commlink, the voice that responded was somewhat distorted, but distinctly female.
"That's a good boy, Captain! It seems you Firstborn CAN actually do things other than break through every wall you see!" If one were to judge from human standards, the speaker would be somewhere in her late thirties. But the fact is that Legion Lady-Commander Rakana was over three-hundred years old, give or take. Humans would change and wither over the course of their lives, but Legionaries are biologically immortal, they would spend a decade until they reached their prime, then stay there for as long as they remained alive.
"It is as you say, Lady-Commander." Normally, the Captain would personally execute whoever gave him lip, but the simple fact was that Rakana was better than him in every aspect, especially physically. And there also the fact that such an act of insubordination on his part against a Lady-Commander would only end with his own death. He just had to swallow his pride for a few seconds.
"Hmmm~ Well, hold that ship until the rest of this pesky human fleet is destroyed and our target arrives... Actually, while you're on the bridge, make yourself useful and help out with the battle. You have permission to commandeer that ship, Captain. Rakana out." She ordered before closing the channel.
Perhaps some of them harboured less than pleasant thoughts about the way Rakana handled them, but those thoughts had been swiftly crushed. If by nothing else, then by the knowledge that they could have ended up in far worse positions. Take the Augurs for example, they are a regiment that deals in matters of the mind. Mind-reading, mind-control, hypnosis, that sort of thing. But they had a nasty habit of being incredibly pompous and hubristic, and their Lord-Commander was by far the worst of them. With that in mind, they really had nothing to complain about.
"I need a man on every major console, move it!" The Captain his commlink once again "Demolition team, what's your ETA?"
Just as he said that, the very same team piled in through the doorway. "Demolition team reporting in, sir!"
"We're commandeering this vessel! Find the turret controls, I need a man on navigation as well." They all immediatly got to work, dashing towards their respective terminals, struggling with figuring out which was which. To the Legion, most human technology was considered archaic, even this vessel was no exception.
"This stupid, backwards, nonfunctional human garbage!" One of the troops complained. "External sensor console has been shot, sir! We're blind!"
"What's the status of the external cameras?" The Captain, who was currently feeling much more like a Navy Captain, asked.
"We lost cameras two to four, but the turrets are outfitted with seperate cameras too." Another trooper reported from a terminal on the other end of the room.
"How are the turrets? Are we ready to engage the enemy?"
"Turrets online, sir. We can control the anti-air turrets from here, but the macro cannons need an on-site operator to function."
"Primitive human tech...'" The Captain muttered to himself. This time it was much more of a force of habit rather than an actual comment. Over time, any issues that came from using human technology would be blamed on the technology itself. The fact was that weapons on Legion ships also required someone to manually operate the gun, and it was too late for the Captain to correct himself on that. "It'll take too long to send a team there, we'll make do with the AA turrets. What's the status on the shields?"
"Shields at full strength, Captain. We're fortunate that our fleet didn't open fire on the flagship before the boarding operation."
"Target the nearest enemy ship and open fire. Focus fire on any weak spots, AA turrets work well against fighters, not cruisers."
"Acknowledged sir! Targeting nearest ship engines... Now, fire!"
From the windows, they could see an AA battery taking aim at the nearest ship in the human fleet, before subsequently firing a salvo directly at its thrusters.
(Y)
"We've been hit sir! Friendly fire, it came from the Vesuvius! They've damaged our engines!" A human reported from behind his console.
"What? Open a channel. Now!" The human Captain ordered.
(Y)
"We're being hailed, Captain. It's from the ship we just attacked." A Legionary reported while hunched behind the uncomfortably small workstation.
"Don't answer that. Prepare to fire the next volley!" Ordered the white-masked Captain from his snug Captain's chair, unwilling to admit that it was a size too small for a Legionary to properly fit in.
"Yes sir! Firing now!"
On que, the next volley of shots was fired into the thrusters of the enemy ship. To their own surprise, they found their shots deflected by energy shielding. The humans were prepared this time.
"Shots deflected, sir! Attack unsuccessful."
"They're on to us. Rerout power from the macro cannons to the shields, they'll be attacking now."
"Yes Captain! Rerouting now."
Now all that was left for them was to brace for the incoming fire and hope that the shields would hold up.
(Y)
Meanwhile, in the darkened control room of the Reven'kauv, Lady-Commander Rakana was idly observing the twilight of the battle, absentmindedly scratching the head of one of her servants that was embracing one of her legs.
The thought of using her attendant for a little 'fun' right there on the spot wandered through Rakana's mind, but was swiftly -albeit reluctantly- cast aside. Her station allowed her to do such things wherever and whenever she wanted with very little in the form of repercussions, but right now she needed to keep her focus on the task at hand.
"Milady, the Firstborn have succeeded in taking control of the human flagship and have begun to engage the enemy." A member of her bridge crew reported. This crewmember was female, as well as the rest of the Legionaries in the room, and in the Reven'kauv itself, and the entirety of the Talons.
"So they aren't as brutish as Xaten made them look..." She muttered while playing with her pet's hair. Suddenly, she jerked her head up, a more concentrated look graced her eyes. "Right, enough toying around, it's time to finish up. Set the lance batteries to full charge and destroy the escorts, the rest of the fleet is to relocate to the asteroid belt and engage silent mode. Leave the flagship intact."
"Orders relayed, Lady Rakana. Lance batteries are ready to fire on your orders." Just as she said that, six lenghty, railgun-like turrets on the prow of the Reven'kauv lit up with a crimson red glow, and each took aim at a different ship in the human fleet.
"Humans are such bad boys, and bad boys get punished~." Rakana said, more to herself than anyone else. "Finish them off."
Lance batteries were starship-grade, heat-based, directed energy weapons, ones that were extremely good at melting even the armour of a dreadnaught in only a single barrage. Such firepower comes at a cost, however, as the weapon drastically decreased in effectiveness against energy shielding. For this reason, it was mainly used to fire the first shots when ambushing enemy ships before their shields could be raised, or finishing them when their shields were too weak to stop the incredible heat of these weapons.
This was an example of the latter situation. Streaks of ruby red light shot out of the cannons to their respective targets. Some ships held up rather well, their shielding stopping the beams for a few seconds, but it wasn't enough to avoid the fate of ending up like half-melted space debris. The beams tore through their armour, and incinerated any unlucky crewmen standing in their paths.
Before long, only the Reven'kauv and the Vesuvius remained in the open, the Legion fleet had been hidden between the asteroids, and the human fleet had been reduced to smouldering wrecks.
"Scan for lifeforms, we don't want any stragglers now do we?" Rakana ordered. Several seconds passed after that.
"Scan complete, Milady. Aside from stragglers aboard the enemy dreadnaught, no humans survived the barrage."
"Oh~? It seems our dear Captain has missed a spot. Set course for the asteroid belt and rejoin the fleet." She now activated her own commlink. "Lady-Commander Rakana to Firstborn Captain Orv."
"Yes, Lady-Commander?" Came the Captain's voice. No matter how many times she heard it, she would never completely get used to those voice-modifiers of theirs, they made their voices all deep and grating. Maybe it was because of the Talons' own modifiers, which, in contrast, made their voices more shrill.
"It seems your little boarding operation has left some poor little humans all trapped and alone. My, oh my~ I thought you Firstborn were all 'no survivors!' Maybe I should have sent some of my little girls instead." 'Little girls' was one of the pet names she had for her Talon Legionaries.
"With all respect, Lady-Commander. Our mission was to capture and hold the dreadnaught until our primary target arrives, not an extermination."
"Well~ then I'm sure you won't mind if I send some of my sweet little Talons over to do it for you, right~?" Rakana's voice took on a sweet tone, and the Captain did not reply for several seconds.
"That will not be necessary. Considering our endgoal of this assignment, it would be best not to deploy any more Legionaries, and suffer more unnecessary loss of life." Came his voice at long last.
"A very good observation, Captain. Now then, happy hunting~!"
"But--" was as far as the Captain got before Rakana terminated the conversation.
"Now that we have some time to waste... Come here." She continued as she grabbed the collar of one of her servants and yanked her towards herself, pulling both of their faces close together. "We might as well enjoy it~."
The shadows that filled the control room resounded with all manner of wet sounds, and any member of the bridge crew would be lying if they said that they didn't start to feel hot under the collar.
(Y)
The Captain and his boarding party scoured the ship, hunting and executing any survivors they could find. They tore through doors, broke walls, ripped floorboards out. The laughter of their weapons haunted the corridors once more.
It didn't take long to 'clean up' the Vesuvius. A little under an hour, in fact.
"Captain Orv to Lady-Commander Rakana." He started, wiping fresh blood off his once pristine white mask. "The flagship has been cleared, awaiting further instructions."
Surprisingly, the voice that responded was not Rakana's, this one seemed to be younger. But considering the quality of the transmission, the Legion's extensive use of voice modifiers, and the fact that their bodies undergo very few changes after they matured, it was very hard to tell.
"Lady Rakana is... Preoccupied." As this was said, the Captain could swear he heard moaning and giggling in the background of the transmission. That alone told him enough of exactly what was happening on the Reven'kauv. "I am 2-01-6983, I'll be handling your orders for the time being. You and your squad are to head to the hangar, a dropship will pick you up there."
"Understood." Was his curt answer, choosing to ignore the mind-numbing background noises in favour of focusing on the mission.
When the commlink shut off, the Captain allowed himself a few seconds to pull his thoughts back together. The Talons, while extremely effective in ambushes and melee combat in general, had a tendancy to get distracted relatively quickly compared to the other regiments. If not by some outside force, then by their own salacious cravings.
Shaking his head to ward off the vulgar thoughts threatening to compromise his composure, he began to adress his squad.
"Attention!"
(Y)
"Milady! Lidless Eye scouts report the target has entered the system!" The operator of the navigation console reported. Rakana, in a rush, yanked her arm out of the hindquarters of one incredibly underdressed Talon.
"They really do have impeccable timing." One could almost feel the sheer sarcasm and irritation dripping from voice as she quickly put her suit back on. "Playtime's over, girls!"
As ordered, the rest of the Talons that got caught in Rakana's wave of lust hurried to slip on their own respective uniforms, and ran to their stations. The overpowering admosphere of sex had seemingly evaporated just like that, now replaced by the earlier feel that one would expect from being in the control room of a vaunted alien warship.
"Milady, what about the boarding party? Their shuttle has yet to arrive."
"Recall the evac shuttle, we can't chance the rescue anymore." Rakana ordered after she gave a playful hum as she feigned to think it over.
At this, the Talon operator that had reported the boarding party's predicament, 6983, froze. It was not unheard of to abandon Legionaries whenever the need became apparent, but this particular Legionary was young, and had not previously needed to inform members of her own kind of their imminent demise.
"Milady? The shuttle is still underway, it could easily make it back with them."
"You heard me. Abort the evacuation." Rakana repeated. "Their shuttle could make it, easily. But it would already be detected by our enemy before it could return." That was true, the Legion's true target for this attack was one of the humans' most advanced superweapons that was deployed as a last resort to repel the Deathmarch. This vessel sported incredible long-range sensors that could easily detect even something as small as a shuttle in the debris. If that were to happen, it would alert the enemy of the Legion's prescence. This was a chance they -or rather, Rakana- did not wish to take.
"Recall the shuttle, and inform dear Captain Orv of their fate." She ordered at last.
A pregnant pause followed after that order was given. 6983 did obey, albeit hesitantly. So, opening a line to the boarding party, she went on to inform the Firstborn Captain of his impending doom.
Why would it be their doom? Because the very point of the capture operation was to use the flagship as bait to lure the ship-sized weapon to them. When it arrived, it would investigate. And when it would get close enough to investigate, they would detonate the charges in engineering and blow the dreadnaught to hell, along with the superweapon.
It goes without saying that no Legionary could survive an explosion like that.
(Y)
"Reven'kauv to Firsborn boarding party." The Captain's commlink suddenly sounded. There was a number of things wrong with this transmission, one being that it wasn't just the Captain who recieved it, but the entire squad. The other thing was that 6983, the speaker, sounded rather crestfallen.
"Your extraction has been cancelled." The somewhat hesitant voice of that Talon announced. This must be her first time announcing a 'no return' order, and while the Captain was put off by the fact that he was on the recieving end of that very order, he could still understand her hesitance.
"Y-you are to-"
"We understand." He suddenly interjected, switching his voice modifier off for a moment. "We must remain behind for the sake of the mission, correct?"
"Yes..." Was the almost miserable response. That was no way for any Legionary to carry themselves. Legionaries should voice their orders unflinchingly and without hesitation, no matter the situation. He would need to rectify this issue, the Firstborn way.
"Then so we shall. Our lives belong to the Queen, and it is for her that we shall sacrifice them. To die for the Legion is an honour, Talon, and no Legionary that dies so his comrades may gain victory, dies in vain. Do not hesitate to order your fellows to their deaths if it can bring you that victory, do not hesitate now. Give your order, young Talon, and we will obey!"
Idly, he noted that the other members of the boarding party softly and silently nodding in agreement.
Captains in every regiment of the Legion's military arm served, generally speaking, the same purpose: to lead their soldiers. But every regiment has different ways of going about this. Talons enforced discipline. Augurs empowered with their psychic might. But the Firstborn? They inspired.
"But... You'll die."
"Talon, a Legionary's life is to die, but it is our duty to make sure our deaths have purpose." The Captain finally finished. More silence filled the room. "Give the order."
"We can no longer afford an extraction without compromising the mission, therefore you will be left behind." She said with an uncanny seriousness that seemed to have come out of nowhere. It both unsettled him and put him at ease, it was a strange feeling.
"Understood, 6983. The Queen commands..."
"...we obey." And with that last sentence, the line was cut. For better or worse, their fates were sealed.
The Captain now turned his attention to his boarding party, all of them looked at him. It was at times like these that the burden of leadership really made itself known, he really did not know what to do now. He hoped that she had taken his words to heart, but hoping was really the only thing he could still do at this point, and he would be lying if he said that, deep down, he didn't feel a pang of unsatisfaction from the fact the they wouldn't face death in combat.
"Our deaths will not be glorious, but our sacrifice will have a useful purpose nonetheless." One of his men stated, and the rest of the group came after him.
"The Legion counts billions of lives, not all of us can have a worthwhile end."
"As long as we die in service, we die content."
"Our lives for the Queen! For the Legion!"
They were mostly common platitudes, but they certainly helped to keep morale high. Inspiration is contagious.
"Captain! Look!"
That shook him out of his reverie. Quickly swiveling his head to the source of the call, he found one of his Firstborn looking out of one of the windows, looking rather panicked. Heeding the call, the Captain turned on his heel and tried to see what had a Firstborn of all things distressed.
He wasn't quite prepared for what he saw.
(Y)
Back on the Reven'Kauv, the Talon operator had slumped slightly in her seat, conflicted over what she had just done. She buried her masked face in her hands as her mind struggled to wrap itself around the fact that she just consigned a whole team of Legionaries to an unfulfilling end, stuck in the corridors of an empty, alien ship.
'You are the reason they will never see Khen'zet again!'
'They didn't mind! We did nothing wrong!'
'They will die because of you!'
'Remember what he told you.'
The different aspects of her mind conflicted in the sense that it was almost deafening, so much so that she almost moved her hands to cover her ears. And that was when she suddenly felt two other hands softly grip hers and move them down to her stomach, and the pressure against her back told her that someone was leaning against her.
"You didn't kill them." Whispered a barely audible voice. Suddenly, chills went down her spine, this was none other than her own Lady-Commander, Rakana.
"I-" the younger Talon began, startled, but a 'shhh' stopped her from going any further. As the Lady-Commander's hands slowly traced upwards over her body, she flicked a switch on the younger Talon's helmet, causing the faceguard to split open, exposing the pale white face underneath.
"You're not the reason they're going to die," Rakana continued, the fingers that undid the mask now traced its wearer's lips. "I am."
'Lady Rakana didn't doom the boarding party, we did! We relayed the order!'
'Eeeeeeeheehee! Lady Rakana is so close to us!'
'Wait, that's just it! We relayed the order, but we didn't make the descision!'
'That doesn't mean we didn't have a hand in this!'
"You..." 6983 managed to breathe out. She hadn't moved a bit since this situation came to be, she was almost paralyzed by her Lady's embrace. But she wasn't afraid.
"And I used you to do it."
'She used us?'
'She used us.'
'We are hers, after all.'
"...used me." 6983's mind was reeling from everything that was happening and had happened, from the sending of the 'no return' order, to herself being somehow deserving of so much attention from her very own Lady-Commander.
"You'll let me use you again, won't you?" Said Lady-Commander brought her face eerily close to 6983's earhole, each word she whispered numbed her mind.
'We'll let her use us again.'
'We are hers.'
"Yes..." Was the almost inaudible response.
"Yes what?"
'Use us.'
'Use us.'
'Use us.'
"Yes, use me.."
6983 couldn't see it, but a horrifying, toothy grin threatened to split Rakana's masked face. It shrunk back into a soft smile as her helmet folded back to reveal her face.
"Good girl." With that, the now unmasked Lady-Commander planted an almost loving kiss on her cheek.
6983 however, she seemed like she needed a minute to recollect her thoughts. Rakana wasn't about to give her that time though, as she was about to continue her little 'assault' on the poor young Talon. But then-
"Lady Rakana!" One of the other bridge operators called out, sounding quite shocked. A red hue washed over Rakana's irises, the colour of anger, bloodlust, or in this case; plain irritation.
"What is it?" She asked, putting no effort in hiding that irritation.
"I'm very sorry, my Lady. But, our sensors detect a massive power surge from the nearby moon!"
Seeing as how her current position allowed her a very clear view of the big nothingness of space, she simply turned her head to look at the mentioned moon...
...just in time to witness a brilliant blue beam bursting through said moon, cross the distance between it and the captured flagship at a terrifying pace, and rip through it like it wasn't even there.
There wasn't even a wreckage left.
Yellow lights popped up in the control room like Christmas lights that day.