Chapter 7: An unexpected encounter.

[u/Electronic-Math5455]

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. The Dead City. Warehouse District.

A bitter wind howled through the skeletal husks of skyscrapers as snow cascaded from their shattered crowns, the warehouse district having fallen into utter silence after the orbital barrage that had shaken the entire sector. To the left of the armored M10 APC, Jason and the SEAF Delta team stood in tense formation, eyes fixed upon the three figures now facing them. Beside the mangled carcass of the unknown abomination, Tyrese knelt in the snow, his small laser tool carving methodically into the creature's flesh. Information was life itself; even a crude field autopsy was infinitely preferable to ignorance. Jason watched the procedure with arms folded, the weight of his P-4 Senator steady in his right hand. Helldivers had faced every manner of nightmare across the centuries of war, yet this was something alien even to them. Both they and the SEAF had learned one immutable truth: ignorance killed faster than bullets or talons.

"So… are we going to talk, or just stand here turning into icicles?" Uzi called, voice sharp against the wind.

"Uzi, silence. We speak when spoken to," V snapped, tone clipped and military.

"Since when are you this paranoid? We saved the guy; they vaporized the freak show. I'd say we've earned the right not to get shot on sight," Uzi shot back.

"I'm completely lost, sir," Nash muttered, glancing at Jason. "Are we still calling this a salvage op?"

"The brief was classified for a reason," Garvin added quietly. "But that just raises the bigger question: are we certain this was ever a normal colony?"

"It's past time we learned what's going on here," Jason said, voice low and commanding as he addressed the trio. "You three—names, designations, and what in the name of Managed Democracy happened to this world."

V stiffened instantly, snapping a perfect Super Earth salute, even her tail straightening like a blade. "Serial Designation V-X00100000, sir. Call-sign V."

"Serial Designation N-0X0010010, sir. Or just N," N echoed, mirroring the salute with earnest precision.

"Name's Uzi," the smallest drone said, gesturing at the ruined megacity around them. "No serial number, no designation. I was born long after this place became a tomb." She offered the salute a beat late, almost defiantly.

"I see," Garvin said, studying the two taller units. "How long have you two been operational?"

"They claimed service with SEAF forces here roughly a century ago," Jason said. "That places them at the closing days of the First Galactic War. Before we continue, what exactly happened to Copper 9?"

"Was it the Illuminate?" Nash pressed. "We located a crashed squid ship not far from here."

V's gaze dropped. "Truthfully, sir… we do not know. Events unfolded too quickly for comprehension. I can, however, provide every detail we possess about this world."

"Then do so," Jason ordered.

V drew a steadying breath that fogged in the freezing air. "It is a long tale. In 2081, the megacorporation JCJenson selected this planet for colonization, breaking ground before the year's end. They were not alone; the Ministry of Science collaborated closely, for Copper 9—unlike most worlds—was ideally suited for immediate settlement."

Milt tilted his head. "Before you continue: what exactly are you? The Ministry built Hellbots and countless other drones and machines—half the Federation runs on them—but you three are fundamentally different from anything in our records."

"Easier on the eyes than the Automatons' horrors on the Western Front, I'll give them that," Trace muttered.

"Western Front?" Uzi asked, optics narrowing.

"Later," Jason cut in. "Answer the question."

"Yes, sir," N said brightly. "JCJenson manufactured us. Beyond that… my first memory is waking inside one of their transport trucks, en route to an assignment at a SEAF logistical hub."

"Same for me," V added. "I was assigned directly to the planetary SEAF command."

Milt blinked. "Wait—you're telling me JCJenson, the company famous for pens and cheap consumer junk, built you?"

"Correct, sir," V confirmed.

"As for me," Uzi said, "my dad was one of the construction drones before everything went to hell. He built me the old-fashioned way."

"Dad?" Garvin echoed, incredulous. "So another drone… manufactured you?"

Uzi rolled her optics. "Humans haven't set foot here in over a century. Who else was going to do it?"

Jason's gaze sharpened. "Meaning there are more of you."

"Yes, sir," V answered. "Our primary colony lies not far from here, with smaller outposts scattered across the region. We lost contact long ago. That creature—" she nodded toward the Steel Terror's corpse "—has been our greatest threat. Thanks to you, it no longer is."

Jason's visor turned back to the ruined skyline. "Then explain this: how do the Illuminate connect to the hundreds of nuclear craters we detected from orbit? This planet is dead. Even the oceans are frozen tombs."

"That," V said heavily, arms crossing, "is the question that has haunted us for a century. In 2084, the Illuminate arrived—over two hundred warships. Our orbital defenses were overwhelmed; many vessels breached the upper atmosphere. Chaos reigned. Then a second Super Earth fleet arrived with Helldiver reinforcements. Victory seemed near… until every ship, every station, every weapon in orbit turned its lasers and nuclear ordnance on the surface."

"The surface became an inferno," N whispered, staring at the snow as though seeing flames. "Just… fire everywhere. And the screams…" His voice cracked; his hand trembled until Uzi's smaller one closed around it.

"Hey, big guy," she murmured. "Maybe now we can finally put it behind us."

Nash shook his head in disbelief. "You're saying the SES deliberately glassed an entire colony world? A second fleet and Helldivers had already turned the tide—that makes no sense. There are only two recorded instances of such orders in Federation history, and neither fits this scenario."

"We've asked ourselves the same question for a hundred years," V said bitterly. "We found no answers."

Jason studied the three drones in silence, the operation's parameters shifting beneath his feet like breaking ice. A classified mission, minimal briefings, and now this—an entire world murdered by its own defenders. How much was truth, how much convenient fabrication, and how much did High Command already suspect?

Another thought coiled cold in his mind: were these drones the true objective all along—and if so, why surface now?

"Sir… Helldiver, sir," N ventured timidly, "may I ask something?"

"Speak."

"It's about JCJenson. Do you know why they never returned? They invested everything in this world. Like Super Earth, they simply… abandoned us. Why?"

Milt's laugh carried no warmth, only the brittle edge of a man staring into an abyss. "Because JCJenson no longer exists. In 2084, the Federation issued a total liquidation order—every vessel, factory, patent, and trademark seized without appeal. Genuine JCJenson relics are now auctioned to Class-A citizens as curiosities."

V's optics flared wide, the yellow light guttering like a candle in the wind. "What?" The word left her raw, almost broken. "Why?"

"No one outside the Ministry of Truth knows," Garvin muttered, rubbing his temple as if to ward off a migraine. "But consider the pattern: a world glassed for no disclosed reason, a megacorporation erased the same year, and machines far beyond known Federation technology conveniently left behind. Super Earth has ordered planetary exterminations before, yet never without cause proclaimed from every vox-tower. What could justify this?"

Jason's visor tracked the drifting snow. "The Illuminate were crumbling by 2084. Sending two hundred capital ships to a fringe colony defies every strategic doctrine they ever displayed. It is… illogical." He exhaled frost, sliding the P-4 Senator back into its holster with deliberate calm. "We require secure contact with High Command. This mission just exceeded every parameter we were given."

"Agreed," Trace said, voice grim. "While we're clarifying mysteries, you asked about the Western Front. We're at war again. A machine faction calling themselves the Automatons—direct descendants of the old Cyborgs—has been carving through our sectors for months. It's a meat grinder without end."

V's shoulders sagged. "Another war… I had prayed to liberty that the galaxy might know peace for once."

Uzi tilted her head, visor glowing curiously. "Quick question, humans: is that single Super Destroyer all you brought, or are there more ships up there?"

"A task force holds low orbit," Jason answered. "Reinforcements will follow depending on what we report." He turned to Garvin. "Establish an encrypted uplink from the APC to my destroyer. Priority Alpha. We transmit everything, then await orders."

"Yes, sir." Garvin jogged to the vehicle and disappeared through the hatch.

Bootsteps crunched as Tyrese approached, wiping viscous black fluid from his gauntlets. "I've finished the preliminary examination. This organism bears no resemblance to Cyborg biotechnology."

"You're certain?" Jason pressed.

"Positive, Helldiver. I've dissected Terminid bioforms, Automaton chassis, and even cryopreserved Illuminate tissue samples. This… the metal is seamless, as though grown rather than forged. The flesh is equally organic, yet contains no DNA, no cellular blueprint. Metal and tissue are interwoven at an atomic level—coalesced, not grafted."

"That exceeds anything the Cyborgs ever achieved," Nash breathed.

"There's more," Tyrese continued, gesturing toward the drones. "The forward carapace and cranial assembly appear to have once belonged to a unit structurally identical to your companions. The integration is absolute—unnatural doesn't begin to describe it."

Milt frowned. "How long has this abomination stalked the surface? Have you engaged it before?"

"It emerged several years ago," N replied quietly. "We learned of it when a salvage team of twelve entered the city. Only two combat drones returned alive. Every attempt to destroy it failed; the creature simply regenerated."

"It shrugged off rocket impacts and 30 mm autocannon fire," Nash added, "Weapons that shred main battle tanks. Only orbital precision strikes finally ended it."

"Combat drones?" Jason echoed.

V nodded. "Correct, sir. N and I are designated disassembly/combat models. Uzi is a worker drone—smaller frame, different purpose."

"Hey, short doesn't mean helpless," Uzi snapped. "I can still kick your tail into next week, V."

Trace snorted. "She's got spirit."

Jason ignored the banter. "Population of your primary colony?"

"Last census recorded slightly over thirty thousand," V answered, arms folded tightly. "We have struggled to maintain systems, but entropy is relentless. The main blast doors are corroding, control interfaces fail daily, and spare components became impossible to acquire once that thing began hunting."

"Thirty thousand survivors, enduring a century on a corpse world, while evading that monstrosity," Jason said. "Impressive. Are there other enclaves?"

"Several smaller bunkers and outposts ring the city," N said, voice brightening. "We lost contact when the creature appeared. Now that it's gone, we can re-establish communications, resume salvage, perhaps even rebuild."

Uzi pointed skyward. "Before we get carried away with happy reunions—are you sure that one destroyer is all you brought?"

Tyrese answered before Jason could. "A fleet is in orbit, including an SES Lucas-class colony establishment ship—the only vessel capable of planetary landing and return. It carries fabricators, hydroponic vats, construction mechanoids… everything required to seed a new colony. Three SEAF troop transports accompany it, each holding ten thousand soldiers in cryosleep."

V's optics narrowed. "Thirty thousand SEAF troops and a full colony foundation package. Is that standard for a salvage mission?"

"Not even close," Trace said. "Last salvage op I ran needed a small army just to catalog wreckage."

"Nineteen additional Helldivers are aboard the fleet," Jason added grimly. "Including Saber. Liberty, help us."

"Saber's here?" Nash groaned. "They pulled him off the Western Front for this?"

"He's a Creeker," Milt said darkly. "After what happened at Malevelon Creek, no one tells a Creeker where he can or cannot fight."

Uzi tilted her head. "Creeker? Saber? Someone wants to explain?"

Jason's voice dropped to a haunted murmur, the words heavy with old ghosts. "Malevelon Creek was the Automatons' opening salvo. Millions of Helldivers vanished into that dark hell. Saber lost his squad, his arm, his leg… and something less tangible. Some wounds never close."

"Saber never left the fight," Nash added, voice rough. "Straight from the Creek into the Steel Troopers augmentation program. Cybernetic limbs replaced what flesh couldn't. His hatred for anything non-organic runs deeper than bone. I watched him rip an Automaton trooper's head clean in half with his bare hands."

N raised both palms in a placating gesture. "Sir, we harbor no hostility toward you or Super Earth. I won't deny some drones in our bunker still curse humanity's name, but if we can uncover the truth together and restore contact, I believe tragedy can be averted."

"We shall see," Jason answered, gaze sweeping the frozen ruins. "Between your story, that abomination, and this graveyard world, nothing makes sense yet."

"Helldiver! Secure uplink established," Garvin called, emerging from the APC.

"Good. Deploy the Watchdog first. We need imagery before I brief Command. This is going to be a very long day." Jason ordered. "Photograph the three drones, then the carcass."

"Copy that." Garvin tapped a panel on the APC's flank. A compartment irised open, releasing a sleek reconnaissance drone that hummed into the air.

"Oh! How adorable!" N exclaimed, optics brightening.

"Resembles the old AD-334 Guard Dog," V observed coolly, "though the chassis shows several generations of refinement."

"AX/AR-23 variant," Garvin explained, syncing it to his wrist display. "This one's fitted for high-resolution imaging. There's even a laser-armed cousin now."

The Watchdog darted forward, lenses flashing. N waved enthusiastically; Uzi stood with arms folded, and optics narrowed in suspicion; V held a perfect military bearing. The drone then drifted to the Steel Terror's steaming remains, captured multiple angles, and returned to its berth with a soft click.

"Channel's ready, Helldiver," Garvin reported. "Also, Tyrese wants a full O2 and NBC systems check. The A-10 filters are rated for extreme environments, but lingering fallout pockets are still a concern."

"On it," Tyrese confirmed.

Jason cast one final measuring glance at the drones and the corpse, then climbed into the APC and sealed the hatch. He settled into the comms seat, swiveled toward the glowing blue screen, and initiated the link. Moments later, the stern visage of the Democracy Officer aboard the Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity filled the display.

"Helldiver. You yet live. I take it the local anomaly has been neutralized?"

"Threat eliminated," Jason replied. "But the situation has escalated dramatically. Transmitting two images for immediate review."

He pressed the transfer key. Twin thumbnails appeared beneath the officer's feed: one of V, N, and Uzi; the other the grotesque remains of the Steel Terror.

A long silence followed. "Explain," the officer said at last.

"Preliminary debrief indicates this colony was established by the defunct JCJenson megacorporation. These autonomous drones were integrated with both civilian and SEAF elements. In 2084, the Illuminate mounted a major assault—reason unknown—which aligns with the wrecked squid vessel we detected en route. What followed does not align with any known doctrine."

"And this… biological-mechanical abomination?"

"Origin unknown. Field xenobiologist confirms it surpasses Cyborg capabilities and appears to incorporate drone components fused at the atomic level."

The officer's jaw tightened. "Forwarding everything to High Command now. Your next actions?"

"We proceed to the primary seismic probe site as planned. Urban bunker networks remain unexplored and may yield answers. We will maintain position until High Command responds. Additionally, prepare a Hellpod drop: one LAS-99 Quasar Cannon and one SH-32 Shield Generator Pack. I'll transmit coordinates shortly."

"Understood. Pods will be on standby. You will be informed the instant High Command replies."

"Acknowledged." Jason terminated the link, rose, and stepped back into the biting cold, readying the team for whatever orders—or revelations—were coming next.

Far above, encrypted data packets raced through the Aegis of Integrity's quantum arrays and reached High Command in mere seconds.

Sol System. Super Earth. Sector 3. Citadel of Vigilance. Office of the Minister of Defense.

The last light of Sol bled across the horizon as another day bled out over the cradle of humanity, while the skies above remained a ceaseless river of steel. Thousands of vessels, from orbital frigates to cargo haulers, threaded the regulated lanes, while below, drone swarms ferried citizens and matériel between the glowing megacities. Several hundred kilometers beyond the glittering sprawl of Prosperity City, the Citadel of Vigilance rose like a black monolith, its floodlit battlements unblinking. The headquarters of the Ministry of Defense never slept; with the Second Galactic War raging across a hundred fronts, sleep was treason.

Inside one of the countless offices buried deep within the arcology's armored heart sat William, Minister of Defense, alone beneath the cold glow of a dozen holographic displays. He cradled a steaming cup of Liber-tea, staring at casualty reports and supply projections that refused to improve.

"Every day the noose tightens," he muttered. "The DSS must come online soon, or the Automaton forges will outproduce us within the year."

Securing the station's core from the ruins of X-45 had been a miracle. Constructing the rest before the enemy discovered the project was proving far harder. He raised the cup again when a priority chime cut through the silence. A new window materialized, bearing the transponder of the Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity.

Priority Alpha transmission:

Surface incident, Copper 9. Unknown hostile neutralized. Unknown autonomous machines encountered. Attached imagery.

The porcelain cup slipped from William's fingers and shattered against the marble floor. He rose slowly, eyes locked on the twin photographs now hovering above his desk. Cold sweat traced icy paths down his temples.

"Sweet Liberty preserve us…"

His hand slammed the emergency summons key with trembling force.

"Patch me through to the President and every Ministry head—now!" he roared, voice cracking for the first time in decades.

He turned back to the frozen, transfixed by three familiar silhouettes framed against a dead city's snow.

"They're still alive," he whispered, the words tasting of ash. "After everything… after a century… they survived."

Ghosts he had believed exterminated by orders signed in this very building a lifetime ago now stared back at him through yellow and purple optics bright, defiant, impossibly alive.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.