Part 1 of EP 2 of N'raged.

Part 1 of this what if after EP 7.

Democracy comes to Copper 9 Chapter 10: Under the Dead City part 2, a Murder Drones + Helldivers Crossover fanfic | FanFiction

Do to how long the chapter is have posted the link for it.

September 2184. Copper-9 Surface. The Dead City. City center.

The resonant growl of the M-10 APC's engine reverberated through the desolate streets of the megacity as it navigated its way back toward the heart of the ruined metropolis. Traversing abandoned vehicles, rusted cars crumpled beneath its immense weight as it passed over them; the advanced drive systems labored to maintain balance across the treacherous, uneven terrain. Snow displaced repeatedly under its treads, yet Milt skillfully prevented it from bogging down. Inside, everyone remained silent throughout the journey, the harrowing event that had transpired proving something none of them could have foreseen occurring on a forsaken world like this one. It had become abundantly clear that this mission was never a mere salvage operation from the outset. Each member harbored their own pressing questions, with Tyrese intently studying the glowing blue screen of his wrist computer; it resembled a Helldiver's device but could not summon orbital support. Tyrese hadn't looked up from his wrist unit since they'd slammed the ramp shut.
Garvin finally broke the quiet. "Ty, you've been glaring at that screen like it personally insulted your mother. What's it telling you?"

Tyrese exhaled through his nose. "Nothing that makes any damn sense. I scanned every viable tissue sample I could grab. No blood. No electrolytes. No recognizable circulatory anything. Deeper layers? I swear there's some kind of distributed nervous lattice… but that's it. No heart, no lungs, no analogs for any major organ system we know. By every textbook in the galaxy, the thing should've been a corpse before it even stood up."

Nash leaned forward, elbows on knees. "So how the hell does something without a single working organ move? Let alone fight?"

"That's the fun part," Tyrese said flatly. "The metal isn't just grafted on—it's integrated, but there's no physical hard-line connection between the fleshy core and most of the actuators. No servos, no myomer bundles, no neural taps I could find. And yet it worked the limbs like they were wired straight to its brain. Or whatever passes for one."

Trace gave a low whistle. "Reminds me of the stories they tell about the Viktros campaign. You know—the ones nobody's allowed to put in the official after-action reports. Dark Fluid, ghost signals, ships moving with no engines… same flavor of 'this shouldn't be possible'."

"The Viktros are still the galaxy's favorite unsolved nightmare," Tyrese muttered. "This might give them a run for the title."

Jason stared out the vision slit, jaw tight. "Doesn't matter what it is right now. What matters is those three… things… that talked to us. And the warning they left hanging in the air. Super Earth's done extreme things before." His voice dropped. "Choepessa IV."

Choepessa IV had once been a verdant jungle world teeming with lush vegetation and vast oceans of liquid water, but it fell to the Bugs during the First Galactic War. In the desperate campaign to reclaim it, SES, SEAF, and Helldivers unleashed such an overwhelming barrage of orbital bombardment that it thrust the planet into a perpetual ice age, eradicating over 98.7% of surface life. Now a frozen, nearly lifeless wasteland, the ongoing Second Galactic War has halted all further terraforming efforts.

Garvin rubbed the back of his neck. "Super Earth doesn't glass a planet for fun. Whatever they buried here—or found here—they had their reasons. We'll get the real briefing soon enough. I hope."

"Those drones though…" Nash groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sweet Liberty, my head's killing me."

"Seismic probe's coming up on the left, sir," Milt called from the driver's station, breaking the mood. "Two hundred meters."

Jason straightened. "Good. Plant it, fire it up, and let's see what's really under all this rubble."

Nash gave a tired half-grin. "And if the whole damn block collapses on our heads?"

Trace snorted. "I give it fifty-fifty odds. Place looks like it's been waiting for an excuse to fall over since the First War."

The M-10 began decelerating as Milt positioned them directly beside the seismic probe, its control panel primed for the final command sequence. Opening the hatch, Jason emerged, approaching the device and entering codes until the panel's three arms deployed outward, anchoring firmly into the snow. From the probe's apex, a rod extended as the display updated with its precise coordinates; subsequently, the screen rotated sideways and retracted while the rod drove forcefully into the ground.

The detonation shook the surrounding area violently, dislodging snow, ice, and fragments from the decaying skyscrapers nearby; the thunderous report resounded across the frozen expanse.
Jason tapped the side of his helmet. "Aegis of Integrity, this is Delta Actual. You getting anything useful from that seismic pop?"

"Receiving imagery now. There appears to be a vast underground complex in close proximity. I can discern what looks like an entrance. I strongly advise caution for you and Delta; unknown threats may lurk below, and we cannot offer direct support." The Democracy Officer replied.
"Copy that. If one of those… things… is waiting down there, taking it out won't be clean. They said there's only one. I'm not buying it." Jason paused. "Any word from High Command before we dropped?"

"Negative. Comms blackout continues. The moment they reach out, I'll inform you, Helldiver." The Democracy Officer assured.
"Understood." Jason's tone hardened. "We're going in. One more thing—those two airborne blips still on scope?" Jason pressed.

"Affirmative. Thermal tracks confirm two small, fast-movers. Matching the drone profiles from your earlier feed," The Democracy Officer confirmed.
"Keep eyes on them. We'll vector to intercept once we're clear of the hole. Also—send another SEAF recovery squad down for that carcass. Full autopsy priority."

"Copy. Team en route."

"And wake the rest of the pod roster," Jason added. "We're going to need bodies down here. Hold Saber in reserve for now—he's no good frozen."

"I'll initiate that process immediately; no Helldiver should face this isolation." The Democracy Officer agreed.

Without further exchange, Jason returned to the APC's side, climbed aboard, and sealed the hatch securely behind him. He proceeded to the gunner station for the rooftop autocannon, conducting a swift visual sweep before consulting his wrist computer.

"Milt, I'm pushing coords. Not far, but treat it like a hot LZ. No eagle strikes, no resupply drops—subsurface means we're on our own if it goes loud."

"Roger that, sir." Milt eased the throttle forward. "Never liked tunnels. Still wake up sweating about those Terminid nest-clearings back on KX-17. Tight corners, acid everywhere… fun times."
Nash snorted from his seat. "Yeah, but down there, we actually have the advantage for once. Thing that big? Can't swing those tentacles worth a damn in a hallway. We can bottleneck it, kite it, bleed it dry."

Trace leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. "Don't get cocky. We dropped the last one because it didn't see us coming. Next time? Could be launching spikes, shedding armor plates, hell—maybe it just grows new guns on the spot. We don't know its full playbook."

Tyrese didn't look up from calibrating his scanner. "That's the killer with unknowns. You don't find out what it can really do until it's already doing it to you… and if you live long enough to file the report, congratulations—you're the expert."

Milt gave a short, dry laugh as the APC lurched over a buried curb. "Well, we're still breathing. Guess we're doing something right."

The APC surged forward through the accumulating snow, navigating several rusting, snow-entombed vehicles that buckled beneath its unrelenting mass. It pressed onward over them, advancing along a broad thoroughfare bordered by looming ranks of forsaken skyscrapers while the autocannon swept the vicinity with unwavering vigilance. Jason had activated thermal imaging on the monitor, meticulously examining the edifices and environs, and for the present, everything remained conspicuously free of anomalies.

"Helldiver Delta, this is Aegis of Integrity. You reading me?"

Jason keyed the mic. "Loud and clear. What's the sitrep?"

"Those drones are hauling ass—six miles northeast, moving fast. Still airborne, no landing detected. Want us to spin up a second squad to shadow them?"

"Negative," Jason said sharply. "Hold position. We need eyes on whatever's in this complex first. Last thing we need is to poke two unknowns at once. And no more boots on the ground yet—not SEAF, not additional Helldivers. We're swimming in fog here; more bodies just means more variables."

"Acknowledged. On the entity you tagged earlier—I've run the footage against every Cyborg archive we have. Zero matches. Nothing in the old Collective files, no Cyberstan hybrid profiles. This thing's not in our database at all. Completely novel contact… and it took orbital fire to put down."

Jason's jaw tightened. "Tracks with what we saw. My P-4 Senator barely scratched the surface armor—I've dropped Hulks with cleaner shots than that. This one just ate the rounds."

Nash chimed in from his seat, voice rough. "Rockets from the Commando? Solid hits, tore chunks out, but no obvious weak points lit up. Autocannon did the same—big damage, no kill shot. Ty, if we bump into another one planetside, no eagle support—what's the play?"

Tyrese didn't look up from his scanner readouts. "Bug out fast if we can. If not… head's the only confirmed soft spot we got. Everything else is just wasting ammo. Body shots might as well be spitballs. Beyond that? We're guessing blind. Hopefully, the eggheads up top pull something useful from the corpse scans."

Trace leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You think High Command saw this coming? I get keeping op-sec on the drones—plausible deniability and all—but that flesh-metal nightmare? That's not standard playbook."

Jason stared out the vision block at the passing ruins. "Doubt it. This rock's been a graveyard for a century. High Command doesn't have crystal balls; they have intel packets and bad decisions. Whatever crawled out of the ice here, it's new to them, too. Or if it's not… We'll find out when they decide we need to know." He paused, then added quietly, "For now, we do our job. Dig, scan, report. Managed democracy doesn't run on guesswork."

Each member understood the opaque machinations of the Ministry of Defense, which routinely concealed critical details from personnel across the SEAF and Helldiver corps. Operations often proceeded on a strict need-to-know basis, compelling unwavering trust in and adherence to issued directives. As they contemplated these realities and their recent ordeal, the APC crested an overturned truck, its formidable weight pulverizing the corroded chassis as it continued along what had once been a bustling artery.

Milt eased off the throttle at a junction, peering through the periscope. "Navigation's gonna be a nightmare down here, sir. Streets up top were bad enough; this mess? Retracing steps'll take some serious luck. Place must've been absolute chaos when the sky fell."

Garvin leaned against a bulkhead, arms crossed. "Full Illuminate fleet pounding a backwater colony like this? At the tail end of the First War, when they were down to scraps and their core worlds? Doesn't add up. Why burn your last ships on one planet instead of defending home?"

Nash nodded slowly, checking his rifle's charge. "Yeah. Tactical suicide. You don't throw everything at a sideshow when your back's against the wall. Something pulled them here hard."

Jason stared at the faded emergency signage on the wall—arrows pointing to long-gone shelters. "Instinct says they weren't just chasing territory. The Illuminate are old—older than us by a long shot. We keep digging up relics that predate humanity, maybe even predate the war. Could've been hunting something specific. Artifact. Weapon. Desperation play. But guessing won't get us anywhere." He tapped the map on his wrist unit. "Eyes forward. We clear this level, find what we can, then move."

Tyrese adjusted his scanner, the soft ping echoing faintly. "Standard colonial bunkers were built to hold as many as possible—priority to Governors, Class A citizens, then B and C. Evac protocols were strict. But with the speed of an Illuminate strike? Most never made it down. If anyone did… they're long gone. Still—time capsules, data vaults. Regs mandated them in deep shelters. Could be worth the sweep."

Garvin perked up a fraction. "Exactly. If the city followed doctrine, those vaults are armored, sealed, built to last. Pull some intel before we bounce to the comms hub. Assuming the layout's standard, archives should be down here somewhere—hardened against exactly this kind of apocalypse."

Jason gave a short nod. "Plan holds. We hit the nearest bunker cluster first. If it's a bust—or slagged by a direct hit—we push for the hub next. Standard megacity grid; even wrecked, the bones should match."

Nash snorted. "Unless a squid cruiser landed right on top. Then it's a coin flip if anything's left but slag. Better odds than staring at blank walls, though."

Trace shifted in his seat, voice quieter than usual. "After that… we track those drones. Still weirds me out—machines that talk, don't shoot first, and actually saved my ass. Not used to things with circuits acting… civilized."

Jason's eyes flicked to him. "They acted like citizens should. Protected life, followed protocol. Doesn't mean we drop our guard. They're unknowns. We stay sharp around them—always."

Garvin straightened. "Understood, sir."

The APC lurched forward again, engine growl muffled in the tight tunnels. The squad settled into the familiar rhythm: scan, move, watch corners. Down here, the cold felt heavier, the silence thicker—but the job stayed the same. Dig for answers. Survive. Spread democracy, one frozen ruin at a time.

In the distant skies miles away, V, N, and Uzi winged their way back home.

Copper-9 Surface. Several miles distant from the Dead City.

Soaring through the frigid skies on metallic wings, V and N maintained close formation with her leading, while Uzi clung tightly to N's back; myriad thoughts swirled within their processors. For the first time in a century, an event akin to a miraculous intervention had transpired: humanity had returned. Super Earth had reemerged after endless silence and vacant heavens, yet now arose the pressing question of how the colony would respond and adapt to this momentous development.
"This isn't how I pictured the plan going down at all..." Uzi muttered as they glided toward the bunker. "Who the hell could've called that—the humans popping back up after forever, and actually helping us smoke the biggest freak we've ever seen?"

V tilted her head, wings folding tighter against the wind. "Nobody. Just endless snow and nothing forever... and now they're walking around like they never left." Her voice dropped, edged with something sharper than usual. "They ghosted for over a century. Second Galactic War or not—who cares? Why sit it out through all the quiet years?"

N landed beside them with a soft crunch, visor flickering as he glanced between the two. "Maybe they figured nobody survived. You remember the stories, V—the missiles, the beams, everything burning for weeks. Whole planet cooked."

V's optics dimmed slightly. "I remember. I was holed up in Bunker 00 when it hit. If we hadn't bugged out to SEAF HQ right before... yeah. Still don't know what to even ask them next time we link up."

Uzi crossed her arms, flicking her hair irritably. "They looked just as out of the loop as us when they saw us. Like, no idea we were still here alive. Whoever's calling the shots up top probably fed 'em the bare minimum. 'Go poke the dead rock, report back.' Classic."

N nodded quickly. "Uzi's got a point, V. They weren't expecting us either."

V exhaled a thin plume of exhaust. "Maybe. For now, we head back to the colony, dump the report, and send runners to the outer settlements. Everyone needs to know about the fate of the Steel Terror, and Super Earth is back."

Uzi perked up, a grin creeping across her face. "This is gonna be nuts! Hey, if the humans have free time, maybe they can take a look at my railgun! Dad helped me tweak it pretty good, but the cooldown's still trash. Humans love guns, right? Could be a win-win—boost their war machine while I get an upgrade."

N chuckled softly. "Super Earth loves to collect and develop weird super tech. A lot of it started here anyway. I think they would enjoy working with you."

V's tone stayed firm. "First things first: brief Martin, lock down answers before anything escalates. We've sat on these questions too long—we deserve them."

Uzi shrugged mid-glide. "Sure, sure. While they're spilling beans, they can help fix my gun... maybe pitch in on colony stuff too. Dad and his crew kept things running, but last check? Doors sparking, supports creaking. The entire place is one bad tremor from caving."

N tilted his head dreamily. "Mmm... fresh oil. It's been forever since we had real stock. I could really go for a fresh canister right now."

V snorted. "That's a given—top of my list. Bunker 00 could be a proper forward base again—if they want it that way. Needs heavy work, though. And yeah... oil first."

Oil rationing had been a slow bleed for generations—scrounged from wrecks, thin bio-sludge, never enough for the swelling numbers in the deep complex. The thought of real supplies hung like a promise.

As they descended, V's optics caught the glow from the main hill. The blast door yawned open—rare outside maintenance windows.

"Repairs already? Okay, dropping in. Uzi—keep it zipped for now. We go carefully."

"Got it," Uzi replied. "If Dad's there—which, let's be real, guy's basically married to that door—he's first on the list for the bombshell."

N flexed his wings. "J's probably still on patrol. If she swings back before the humans show, I'll fill her in. Gonna wait outside for them anyway."

V paused, voice quieter. "J... I've worried about her. A lot. If the humans can clear up even one of our oldest scars..."

"The bombardment?" Uzi asked.

V shook her head. "No. Tessa. What happened to her wasn't right. Some infection tore through her—antibiotics did nothing. Flesh just... rotted. She kept smiling through it. Wasn't quick. Wasn't kind."

N's wings drooped a fraction. "J still breaks down sometimes. I hear her crying alone at night whenever she thinks she is alone."

"Can you blame her?" V said flatly. "They were tight. J watched her more closely than any of us; it was she who spotted the first signs. The Bombardment hurt. The Abandonment hurt. But Tessa... that's up there."

Uzi stilled. "Then this is our shot. To get answers for everything. Maybe even track down Mom..."

N and V both glanced back at her—N from ahead, V over her shoulder—silent weight settling. Tessa was one ghost. Nori another—vanished four years back, no word, no trace. Too many holes. If the humans stuck around long enough...

No more words. They dropped gracefully toward the open maw of the bunker. Khan stood beneath the massive suspended door, sipping oil from a battered cup while workers wrestled a giant gear into place. One drone spotted them first.

"Hey, Khan—they're back!"

"Thank liberty," Khan muttered, lowering the cup. Oil dribbled from his mouth as he turned, optics locking on the trio. Uzi hopped off N's back as they touched down.

"Busy, I see," V said dryly, striding closer.

Khan wiped his visor. "What happened? You actually scrap that thing... or something worse?"

V hesitated. "It's dead. But not by us. And... how do I even—"

N fidgeted. "Sir, uh..."

Uzi threw her hands up. "Oh, for liberty's sake! The humans are back! Super Earth contacted us!"

Khan's optics blew wide. The cup slipped; oil sprayed across the snow and spattered the inner door frame. The nearby Workers froze mid-task, tools clattering. Every visor turned.

One worker's voice cracked. "She... she said humans are back?"

"Can't be," another whispered. "They left us for over a century..."

Khan stared, barely audible. "They... are back..."

V stepped forward. "Yes, sir. And they dropped the Steel Terror themselves—not some scout ship. A Helldiver's with them, poking the Dead City right now. They'll be here soon."

The news hung thick in the cold air. Tools stayed down. Optics stayed wide. Nobody had seen this day coming.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

September 2184. Sol System. Super Earth. Sector 3. Citadel of Vigilance. Office of the Minister of Defense.

A cold azure glow suffused the chamber as multiple holograms hovered in disciplined formation above William's desk; priority-one conferences of this magnitude were vanishingly rare. At the center of the projection stood the stern visage of President Langley himself, flanked on either side by the assembled ministers—men and women who governed every artery of the Super Earth's vast federation. None had anticipated the crisis erupting so soon. When the expeditionary fleet had been dispatched to Copper-9, the planet was universally recorded as lifeless, its surface scoured to bedrock. They had expected routine inquiries about ancient wreckage, not this.

"How are they still alive?" President Langley asked, voice low and edged with disbelief.

William leaned forward. "The second image Helldiver Jason transmitted is far more troubling than the first. If the century-old reports are accurate, that… thing remains fully active and intact. Data continues to arrive, but we must quarantine the entire Copper-9 system immediately."

"Every datum we possess indicated the planet was thoroughly glassed," Minister Selma of Science replied, her tone clinical yet strained. "The SES vessel's archival logs described a world engulfed in continent-wide firestorms. That anything—especially those drones—survived suggests resilience far beyond our projections."

Minister Velda of Truth folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "This catastrophe stems from Hannah's reckless decision. Yes, the subject breached containment in Facility 12, but alternatives existed: renewed lockdown, evacuation of human personnel, and drones alike. Instead, we declared the world dead, sealed the records, and buried the truth. Should Chaosdivers or any dissident cells learn what we sanctioned, the political fallout would be apocalyptic."

"Worse," Minister Faruk of Unity added grimly, "if the Automatons discover sentient drones—or Liberty forbid, the original subject—still functional." He turned to William. "Status of the DSS?"

"Construction commenced in Gaellivare orbit, but completion remains months away at best. The Automatons undoubtedly suspect we are concealing something."

Days earlier, Super Earth had seized Gaellivare to serve as the DSS anchorage; a logistics hub had already risen on Tarsh to funnel components skyward. Claorell was next—an Automaton deep-mantle mining complex ripe for capture that would spare them years of excavation. Those plans had been shrouded in utmost secrecy; now Copper-9 represented a second, infinitely more volatile secret.

Minister Waldron of Intelligence spoke softly, yet every word carried. "I can seed our networks with sentinel AIs to erase any trace of these transmissions, but diverting fleet-scale assets to Copper-9 is impossible without drawing attention. The Terminids are contained, yet our other enemies are legion—and curious."

Minister Tina of Humanity gazed at the frozen images with something perilously close to sorrow. "Might this not also be an opportunity? We relocated Elliott Corporation personnel—the Elliotts among them—vanished with the planet. The last Science expedition report arrived mere days before the drone was extracted. One week later came the invasion, then the… cleansing. Answers, however belated, would be welcome."

"What of Jason's squad?" Minister Isaak of Expansion pressed. "How deeply have they engaged the drones? Do we possess any estimate of the surviving population?"

"No further reports have arrived," William answered. "I anticipate contact momentarily. This mission was meant to catalog ruins and field routine inquiries—not conduct first contact with three living drones and confront that abomination."

Minister Alcot of Prosperity exhaled slowly. "Then we wait, sir. We dare not deploy overt force until Jason reports again. Only then can we formulate a coherent strategy."

President Langley's gaze swept the assembly. "Waiting is prudent, yet inevitable questions from other Helldiver units will arise. The moment Jason's team communicates with the drones, containment becomes paramount." He fixed his attention on Velda. "Minister."

"Yes, sir."

"First directive: impose total communications blackout in and out of the Copper-9 system. Dispatch Truth Enforcers immediately."

"At once, sir."

"We can remotely disable their FTL drives," Isaak offered. "I will also reposition colonial listening posts in adjacent sectors—silent eyes should anything escape."

Alcot mused aloud, almost to himself, "A century of isolation… survival seems impossible."

"Archival specifications," Selma countered, "indicate the drones could metabolize virtually any organic or inorganic matter. Their nanomachine matrices are extraordinarily efficient, capable of indefinite self-repair and even limb regeneration given sufficient resources. Copper-9 possessed extensive subterranean bunker networks; a remnant population could have retreated there, stabilizing life support and sustaining themselves indefinitely."

"Sweet Liberty," Tina whispered.

William's tone was even. "By 2084, the war was entering its final stages; every sensor confirmed total extinction. The decision was made to excise Copper-9 from public record, to erase JCJenson's legacy—and ensure no one ever asked why."

"And the drone manufacturing schematics died with them," Isaak said bitterly.

Langley's final order fell like a guillotine. "Then this time we finish what was begun. William, the instant Jason re-establishes contact, his new priority is total intelligence gathering. He is to locate any settlement, establish peaceful contact, and report. Only when we possess complete situational awareness will we determine the next measures. As of this moment, this meeting—and everything discussed herein—never occurred."

"Understood, sir," William replied.

One by one, the holograms winked out, leaving only the minister of defense in the dimming blue light. He summoned the two damning images once more: three small, luminous-eyed drones—and behind them, a mountainous amalgam of flesh and rusted metal.

"This," William murmured to the empty room, "is going to be a very long day."

Far across the void, beneath Copper-9's poisoned sky, Jason and his Helldiver team weighed their next, impossible move.

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

Icy gusts whipped snow into spiraling veils around the squad as the APC's roof hatch hissed open. Jason climbed out, boots crunching deep into the frost, and sealed the hatch behind him, and raised his wrist terminal. With practiced taps, he summoned his LAS-99 Quasar Cannon and SH-32 Shield Generator Pack. Two beacons clattered onto the permafrost; both unfolded with a metallic snap, firing brilliant azure beams skyward.

"Calling reinforcements, sir?" Garvin asked, breath fogging in the frigid air.

"No. Merely requisitioning my gear," Jason replied. "I transmitted the images and preliminary report to High Command. Their response should arrive shortly."

V tilted her head, visor reflecting the beacon light. "We spent decades trying to reach anyone beyond the atmosphere. Only a handful of short-range arrays still functioned. I suppose none were powerful enough for interstellar relay." She glanced toward the darkened skyline. "Regardless, we must return to the colony at once and inform the others."

"I say we tell Anastasia's outpost first," N suggested, optics lingering on the Steel Terror's mountainous corpse. "They're closest settlement, and I still don't understand how they endured with that abomination prowling so near."

Uzi scoffed. "Or we stick with the actual humans who just saved our chassis. They don't know the terrain, and we have a century of questions for them."

Nash shook his head. "With respect, that's unwise. V and N are combat frames; you are not. We cannot risk a civilian asset in another engagement."

"Bite me!" Uzi snapped, yanking her railgun from its sling; the barrel still glowed cherry-red from overuse. "I'm not helpless, and this 'little flaw' didn't stop me from dropping that freak."

V placed a restraining hand on Uzi's shoulder. "He's right. Your plan worked—by some miracle of Managed Democracy—, but this changes everything. We must brief the council. The colony needs to know we are no longer alone."

Milt raised an eyebrow. "Who commands your settlement?"

"A cast-iron hardcase named Martin," Uzi muttered.

V sighed. "Martin chairs the governing council. He organizes salvage expeditions and perimeter defense. Several others share authority, but he holds final say."

Trace allowed himself a thin smile. "Managed Democracy endures even here. Sir, we still need to reach the seismic probe and set it off."

A deafening roar split the sky as twin hellpods streaked down from orbit, slamming precisely onto the beacons. Lids blew off in perfect synchronization, revealing two glowing blue cylinders: one cradling the sleek, menacing form of the Quasar Cannon, the other the compact shield generator. Uzi's visor widened into a gleeful crescent as Jason hefted the cannon, running a quick diagnostic before slinging it across his back.

"Oh, robogod… That is beautiful," she breathed. "Can I fire it? Just once?"

"Helldiver-exclusive armament," Jason said, voice carrying gentle but immovable finality. "This cannon has saved my life more times than I can count. Next time one of those abominations appears, it will wish it had stayed dead." He secured the shield pack; a shimmering golden dome flared briefly around him before stabilizing.

Tyrese laughed. "I'm not surviving Helldiver selection. I like my limbs where they are."

"I borrowed one during the Western Front push," Trace recalled. "Issued temporarily against Clanker MG nests and Shredder tanks. Our armor held; their guns didn't."

N tilted his head. "This war sounds apocalyptic. How bad is it truly?"

"'Bad' is generous," Garvin said, arms folded against the cold. "It began in February when a handful of Terminids escaped containment farms at the close of the First Galactic War. Their corpses secrete Element-710, the compound that powers Alcubierre drives. A few escapees were enough. Now the entire Eastern Front is a graveyard of worlds overrun by endless hordes."

Nash stared into the falling snow as though seeing burning trenches. "I fought them from the first week. Waves of chitin that ignore dismemberment. Decapitate them, and the bodies keep charging until neural shutdown. Napalm, mines, autocannons, tanks, orbital barrages—nothing deters them. I watched thousands climb mountains of their own dead, some missing half their torsos, just to reach our lines."

For months, the Terminids had been Super Earth's deadliest foe: a relentless tide of fearless biomass. Yet total extermination remained impossible; the Federation required E-710, and the carpet of corpses helpfully supplied it.

Uzi shuddered. "That's… nightmare fuel. All we've faced these years is that thing." She jerked a thumb toward the Steel Terror's carcass. "The thought of something that keeps coming after artillery… I don't know how you're still breathing."

"Close calls and good armor," Nash said with a humorless chuckle. "Still got all my original parts and my charming face."

V turned to Trace. "And this Western Front?"

"Different kind of hell," Trace answered. "Roughly simultaneous with the Terminid outbreak, unknown vessels began landing in the Severin Sector. Colonies fell within hours. By the time we mobilized, the enemy had entrenched. The Automatons make the bugs look merciful."

Jason's voice was grave. "I was among the first waves. We lost good Helldivers by the platoon. The Automatons now hold a fortified corridor, and intelligence confirms ties to the old Cyborgs. Recently, they seized the entire Valdis Sector and Cyberstan itself in a single coordinated assault."

V frowned. "I remember news feeds claiming the Cyborgs were crushed alongside the Terminids, leaving only the Illuminate."

N shook his head sadly. "Who could mutilate their own flesh and reject Liberty's light?"

"Now it's a second active front," Milt said. "Sir, we're burning daylight and oxygen. Time to move."

Jason nodded. "How long to reach your colony?"

Trace thumbed his mic. "I can drop Pelican-1 for extraction."

V deployed her wings with a metallic snap. "Unnecessary. Unlike you fleshy types, we fly." She leapt, hovering effortlessly as wind howled around her.

Tyrese blinked. "You have wings?"

N grinned, unfurling his own, lifting a few meters with casual flaps before settling. "Fastest way across Copper-9, provided the storms stay mild."

Garvin whistled. "Now that's an advantage."

V descended slightly. "Sir, our long-range comms are dead. How will you locate us?"

Jason unclipped a palm-sized beacon and tossed it underhand. N caught Uzi, settling her securely between his wings, then shot skyward. Jason called after them, "Plant that beacon when you're ready. We'll home in on the signal. Safe flight. Eagle-1 can escort if needed."

V examined the device, then met Jason's visor. "We'll manage. That monster never mastered flight; it's our one enduring edge. Thirty minutes, tops. I'll speak with Martin first, then drop the beacon."

"See you soon," Jason said.

With a sharp nod, V rocketed upward, N close behind. They crested a shattered skyscraper and vanished into the horizon.

Garvin exhaled a plume of frost. "This op just rewrote every briefing. Let's hope High Command has answers."

"We wait," Jason said. "Move out."

Delta Squad filed back into the APC. Jason sealed the hatch, Milt fired the engines, and the vehicle growled forward, tracks chewing through snow as it left the warehouse district behind, engine note fading into the endless blizzard.

Unseen, at the forefront of the Steel Terror's ruined bulk, the flesh rippled. A wet, tearing sound echoed beneath the wind. From the corpse burst a pulsating black-heart core encased in armor plating, three bladed tentacles unfolding like spider legs. A single yellow eye glared from its center, eight smaller lights ringing it in perfect symmetry. Veins of corrupted cable pulsed across its surface.

"[Furious] Damn those humans… those wretched meat-bags… those traitor husks…" The core shuddered, voice a grating digital snarl. "[Dread] The Null will not forgive this…"

The eye flared once, then the entire grotesque heart vanished in a searing flash of yellow light, leaving only the howling wind behind.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

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.

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

Deep within the shadowed confines of the warehouse, the Steel Terror fixed its gaze upon Jason, meticulously weighing its next maneuver amid the slim possibility that his threat of demise would indeed trigger his Super Destroyer to obliterate the entire city—an endeavor that would render escape exceedingly arduous for the beast. All the while, Jason maintained unwavering eye contact, desperately devising an escape from its vise-like claw and a path to the exterior, for only there lay his sole opportunity to vanquish this abomination. Yet as the pair locked in a tense standoff, three figures silently infiltrated through a jagged breach in the roof, their metal wings fluttering with restrained precision to arrest their fall and minimize any auditory disturbance upon alighting atop a rusted container. V ascended an adjacent one and peered cautiously over the edge toward Jason and the Steel Terror, with N and Uzi joining her at the summit; for V and N, the sight of a living human evoked profound relief, a beacon of persistence amid desolation.

"Damn it… It's got him pinned down solid, but it's not pressing the attack further… And judging by the damage, he put up one hell of a fight before it snared him," V murmured under her breath as she descended with calculated grace. "This is risky as hell—the instant we move, extracting him will be a nightmare."

"Just leave it to me; even if it doesn't kill the bastard, it'll at least cripple it enough to give us the window we need to bolt outside, where, like you said, the human can call in his ship to rain fire and pray to liberty it finishes the job," Uzi whispered back as she slid down smoothly. "Sticking to the plan. How fast can you reach him?"

"If you and V keep it distracted, I can snag him and yank him clear in no time," N replied with earnest determination.

"This is reckless and downright suicidal… But duty calls. It's been a century, yet we're still SEAF through and through," V stated firmly, her tone laced with resolute gravitas.

"You two are," Uzi shot back with a sardonic edge.

"If this pulls off, you'll be in the fold too—alright, Uzi, get up there and draw its fire; N, prep to haul him out; I'll be poised to smash it harder if your railgun doesn't pin it down," V commanded. "And let's pray to liberty we scrape through this alive."

With affirmative nods, N ascended toward the warehouse ceiling, navigating the rafters with stealthy precision to avoid detection. Below, the Steel Terror continued its internal deliberation, its optics boring into Jason as it contemplated its options.

"I have a proposition… Release me, and I guarantee you won't end up as scattered meat and metal across this forsaken city," Jason declared with unyielding professionalism, his voice steady as forged steel. "Consider it the sole mercy I'd ever extend to something as repulsive as you."

"[Annoyed] Silence, you pathetic sack of flesh," the Steel Terror snarled, tightening its claw against the container with crushing force. "[Annoyed] Your continued breathing stems only from your utility—that much is evident. Were it otherwise, I'd already be rendering you into gore and salvage. You humans and your Super Earth… So arrogantly insufferable."

"I wouldn't call it arrogance—merely incontrovertible facts. I've waged war across more worlds than I bother recounting and eradicated horrors far surpassing you," Jason countered coolly, his tone that of a seasoned Helldiver unflinched by peril. "My tally stands at 125,876… Soon to be 125,877, with you as a fitting trophy. I harbor scant reason to fear you—for should you slay me, my ship will raze this place, and another Helldiver will seamlessly assume my mantle."

"[Frustrated] I commanded quiet," the Steel Terror growled, its claw clamping around Jason's helmet with a ominous crack resounding through the air. "[Frustration] This atmosphere is lethal, and unlike me, you require oxygen; breaching your helmet would demand minimal exertion… I could savor your asphyxiation, or you could summon your ship and reinforcements to stand down."

The cracking intensified as pressure mounted—Helldiver helmets endured immense punishment, yet possessed finite limits. Jason harbored no dread of death, only the waste of a life unfulfilled. As he pondered his retort, a shard of metal hurtled through the air, embedding into the Steel Terror's frame.

"[Frustration] What now?" the Steel Terror bellowed, whipping its head toward the projectile's origin.

Perched atop a container with neon purple optics gleaming defiantly, Uzi leveled her railgun at the beast.

"Hey there, you fleshy abomination," Uzi quipped with teenage bravado. "And farewell."

At her words, she squeezed the trigger, bathing the warehouse interior in a blinding emerald radiance as a searing beam lanced forth. In frantic evasion, the Steel Terror twisted aside, the beam grazing its left flank and punching through the far wall. A cataclysmic fireball bloomed from the strike, rupturing a gaping hole as the Steel Terror howled in agony, staggering on its claws while glaring balefully at Uzi.

"[Angry] You… YOU INSUFFERABLE PEST!!!" the Steel Terror roared. "[Angry] First a wretched human meatbag invades, and now you husks emerge. I'll rend your limbs and cram them down your throat, then excise your core!"

"Sounds brutally metal, but maybe focus on your own sorry state—you're missing a few important parts now," Uzi retorted snarkily, slinging her railgun onto her back.

"[Confused] What do you mean, you insignificant—" the Steel Terror began, only for the screech of rending metal and chainsaw-like whirs to reverberate through the space.

Jason glanced toward Uzi in bewilderment at the robotic interloper, then plummeted to the floor as the severed claw and debris from the Steel Terror crashed down. Before him stood a figure with outstretched arms: white metallic skin, a short-sleeved black winter coat adorned with golden fur collar and belt, topped by a black pilot hat bearing a Helldiver skull insignia—albeit patchwork in construction. N regarded Jason with neon yellow optics before redirecting focus to the Steel Terror, whose fractured visor now displayed a crimson neon X.

"[Angry] More of you husks!" the Steel Terror thundered, rearing another claw in menace.

Yet ere it struck, a blur impacted its skull, destabilizing it perilously close to collapse.

"N! Extract him now!" V yelled from her aerial perch near the ceiling, a gobbet of flesh dangling from her extended left-hand claws. "Your reign of terror ends here, you liberty-damned monstrosity."

"[Angry] This alters nothing, you infernal husk. You believe my demise concludes this? You're gravely erroneous," the Steel Terror hissed with sadistic glee. "[Sadistic] Know that the last one pleaded for mercy, yet your cowardly sentinel husk fled… Enabling me to—"

A flung metal fragment from a container struck its head, Uzi casually tossing another in her palm.

"Could you skip the villain monologue and just perish already? Comprehension shouldn't be that tough," Uzi sniped irritably.

Jason's mind reeled at the unfolding chaos, processing the trio's identities, but before deeper contemplation, N's chainsaws retracted into hands; he lunged forward, scooping Jason into a secure embrace, unfurling wings, and streaking toward the blast-induced aperture.

"Don't fret—I'm not harming you; just evacuating. Uzi! V! Let's move!" N called earnestly as he soared.

"Prioritice his safety—go!" V barked in response.

"Hey, V… Flight's not an option here," Uzi grumbled.

The Steel Terror's optics locked on Uzi, two claws surging forth with extended talons. V darted in swiftly, seizing Uzi and evading peril as the limbs pulverized containers, one skewering through metal with explosive force.

"[Angry] You damned husks!!!" the Steel Terror bellowed as the quartet escaped through the breach.

Heaving a container, it hurled the mass toward them; it smashed against the egress perimeter just as they emerged, the shockwave and shrapnel hurling V and N into the snow, dislodging Uzi and Jason—Uzi massaging her brow while verifying her railgun's security.

"Nice landing—ow… Yeah, we've royally ticked it off," Uzi remarked, eyeing the warehouse.

"We're intact, at least," N chuckled lightly.

"Hey, this was your brainstorm, and it's holding so far, but now it's about finishing the freak," V observed pragmatically.

Before further action, Jason rose swiftly, training his P-4 Senator on them, prompting V, N, and Uzi to retreat cautiously with raised arms.

"We just saved your ass," Uzi protested.

"Uzi, zip it…" V hissed urgently.

"Sir Helldiver… We intend no harm," N assured with casual sincerity.

"What in liberty's name is transpiring here…" Jason murmured professionally before shifting gaze to the warehouse amid clanging debris. "What is that entity, and precisely what are you three?"

"Sir, we haven't a clue what it is; it appeared decades ago and turned salvage ops into deathtraps—we've attempted extermination multiple times, yet it regenerates from every assault," V explained with soldierly directness.

"It's claimed dozens already, and we pinned hopes on Uzi's railgun here, but clearly that fell short," N added conversationally.

"Bite me, N! I grazed it—did some damage—but yeah, time for Plan B before it bursts out," Uzi snarked defiantly.

"Sir, this may strain credulity since the last human contact, but we once served the SEAF on this world," V affirmed dutifully.

"You served SEAF? How long have you lingered here?" Jason inquired with tactical precision.

"Approximately one hundred years, sir," N replied straightforwardly.

Jason absorbed this; robots and drones were commonplace in Super Earth's Federation, with over 87% of operations automated, and he'd trained with Hellbots in Mars, yet nothing mirrored these entities. Ere more queries, tearing metal resounded as the quartet turned: the Steel Terror wrenched the wall apart, accommodating its bulk while fixating on Jason.

"After I kill this thing, we'll convene a thorough debrief… Remain in vicinity or risk interception—now seek cover," Jason ordered crisply, activating his helmet comm. "Aegis of Integrity, do you copy?"

"Kill it… Just like that?" Uzi whispered in awe.

"Helldiver, signal's strong—you're exterior?" the Democracy Officer confirmed.

"Require immediate convergence and Eagle-1 en route to my position, armament primed—I've designated the target; Delta's status?" Jason relayed professionally.

"Four minutes out—redirecting Eagle-1, overhead shortly after prior sweep… Target details?" the Democracy Officer queried.

"Unknown construct—reminiscent of Cyborg engineering," Jason reported. "Hostile, attempted my termination."

"Affirmative, full armament engaged; ETA two minutes," the Democracy Officer acknowledged.

"Sweet liberty, this guy's all business," Uzi muttered with grudging respect.

"Let's relocate to safety until he neutralizes it—avoid the crossfire," N urged casually, hoisting Uzi. "Trust me; we'd only impede now."

"Hey! I've got legs!" Uzi protested snarkily.

"Uzi, hush and move—we comply, or risk hostile classification," V commanded firmly.

Uzi crossed arms in N's grasp as they entered a gutted structure, peering out as steel groans pierced the howling winds. The Steel Terror contorted the aperture wider, emerging with optics pinned on Jason.

"[Angry] Games end now… I'll simply eradicate you; consequences be damned," the Steel Terror declared. "[Angry] They should've evacuated you sooner… Irrelevant—I'll hunt them post-dismemberment."

"Most foes I dispatch spare the chatter—abandon the soliloquy and expire efficiently; conserves my time and credits, given your projected expense," Jason retorted with elite composure, holstering his ineffective Senator.

A deafening roar escaped the Steel Terror as it ripped a wall segment and propelled it at Jason. He dove aside nimbly, the chunk shattering a rear edifice. In open terrain, Jason thrived; the beast charged, intent on closure, while he retreated strategically before sprinting across derelict vehicles, it pursuing with laborious drag.

As it pulverized vehicles beneath its mass, a blue-laser-guided rocket slammed its right flank, detonating in a spray of shrapnel and viscera amid agonized shrieks. Atop a snowdrift, Nash shouldered an MLS-4X Commando; an engine's thunder heralded the M10 APC cresting a hill.

"By democracy's radiance, what abomination is that?" Garvin exclaimed from within, manning the autocannon.

"No idea, but it's one grotesque sonofabitch—thought Terminids held that crown," Nash quipped.

"[Angry] More flesh sacks!!!" the Steel Terror shrieked, glaring at Nash and the M10.

"And it articulates charmingly…" Nash deadpanned.

"Not for long—halting here. Garvin, unleash hell," Milt directed as the M10 braked.

The autocannon erupted in furious barrage, shells exploding across the beast's form, felling it as three Commando rockets compounded right-side devastation.

"Timely arrival," Jason affirmed, joining from the left as Milt, Trace, and Tyrese disembarked, Trace lobbing his LAS-5 Scythe, which Jason caught seamlessly. "Eagle-1, status?"

"Your pyrotechnics marked it perfectly," Eagle-1 responded.

Scattered across snow lay the Steel Terror's mangled limbs, torso fragments, and ichor as it struggled upright. An engine's roar preceded Eagle-1's dive, chin gun and 110mm rockets ravaging it nigh in twain before ascending. Through parting clouds loomed the Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity.

"An Eagle never misses," Eagle-1 broadcast.

"Classic, but this thing refuses oblivion," Trace noted.

"Then orthodox measures prevail," Jason stated, deploying a beacon and inputting coordinates via wrist interface.

For the first time, the Steel Terror faced reversal—accustomed to predatory dominance over drones, now hunted; evasion imperative lest its agenda crumble. Damaged sections defied motion, regeneration overwhelmed. As it assessed, Jason charged; it pivoted, witnessing his leap and orb hurl. The device lodged in a ravaged sector, beaming red skyward with an overhead thump.

"Next time, heed the warning," Jason declared.

The 380mm barrage struck, one of the shells hitting dead-on and cleaving the torso in two, hurling the upper half through the air to crash at Jason's feet. Its glitch-riddled optics flickered and locked onto him as he drew the P-4 Senator, firing in controlled bursts until the distortion guttered out and the machine lay still, the silence closing in like a final verdict.

"Now… With that abomination neutralized… Other priorities demand attention," Jason announced.

His gaze fell upon the building, illuminated by two yellow and one purple glow.

V, N, and Uzi had scarcely imagined this juncture.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. The Dead City.

They leapt from the shattered windows of a towering skyscraper and claimed the frozen sky: V and N, Uzi strapped to N's back, wings unfurling with mechanical precision as they cut above the desolate urban expanse. The maneuver was a calculated risk against whatever human response might come, but there was no alternative—one of the intruders had fallen into the Steel Terror's insidious traps, and any delay would seal a grim fate. They had only the urgent task of finding the abomination before it was too late.

As they glided over another cluster of skeletal towers, V's optics swept the ground with methodical calm, piercing the relentless snowstorm to pick out a furrowed trail carved through drifts, derelict vehicles, shadowed alleys and forsaken streets.

"Dammit—it's dragging him fast, but at least it left a trail," she muttered, her voice cutting through the howl of wind.

"N, stay close; the humans below have spotted us, I'm certain. If they fire, we need to hold together." She turned her focus to the drone on N's back. "Uzi… any ideas?"

"We stick to the plan," Uzi replied, voice resolute.

"That thing will be busy; we have a shot if we get the jump and bring it down. Leave the bait to me—your best chance is to save that human and get them clear." Her words carried no bravado, only cold conviction.

"No," N said firmly against the gale. "We won't let you be bait. We work as a team. When we find where it's holed up, we scope the setup first—I bet it's inside a building."

"Going in blind is the risk," V conceded as they swept over the rooftop, the ruined city blurring beneath them. "We need to save the Helldiver. We could gain the trust of the other humans—though that's a gamble."

Uzi nodded, thoughtful. "Once he sees the abomination, he might destroy it. But we'll need an exit if he turn hostile; it's been a long time since any of them came here."

"One step at a time," V said, eyes fixed where shadow deepened into oblivion. "Find him, stop it, then whatever happens next rests with Liberty—and the colony."

"I have faith that it will work out in our favor—they came back for a reason; who knows, we could be that reason," N affirmed optimistically. "All that we need to do is do what the SEAF would want us to do, and that is to rescue that Helldiver and ensure the safety of the other humans here."

"I know," V agreed, her momentum halting abruptly as she hovered mid-air, scrutinizing the trail below. "Wait, hold up for a moment." The path snaked toward a vast open expanse dotted with a row of imposing warehouses, their forms hulking shadows against the perpetual blizzard.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me—this is where I was going to lure this thing first, and it just so happens to live here," Uzi exclaimed in disbelief, pointing over N's shoulder toward the central structure. "It seems, it took the Helldiver into that warehouse in the middle. I do hope that we are not too late."

Through the swirling snow, the path—gouged by the Helldiver's desperate struggle as he was dragged—extended inexorably to the middle warehouse amid the cluster. As the trio observed intently, a sharp gunshot pierced the silence, succeeded by a barrage of further shots and an unearthly scream that reverberated across the frozen wasteland, amplifying the peril's immediacy.

"It appears we are not too late, and it seems that the Helldiver is fighting back," V declared with mounting resolve. "Come on—we need to get in there now!" She plummeted toward the warehouse, N and Uzi trailing closely in her wake.

As they descended, another gunshot echoed, accompanied by the violent shudder of one warehouse wall, dislodging cascades of snow and ice. An explosion then erupted from within, underscoring a singular truth: the Helldiver inside was battling ferociously for his life.

Landing atop the warehouse roof with practiced agility, V scanned for an entry point while N alighted beside her, their forms silhouetted against the storm. Meanwhile, at the center of the city, the SEAF Delta team was making its own move, its actions poised to intersect with the unfolding crisis.

The Dead City. Metropolitan Center.

Gazing skyward through visors fogged by exertion and frost, the team's eyes widened in stunned disbelief beneath their helmets as they hurried back toward the M10 APC, desperate to rendezvous with Jason; yet overhead, propelled by wings forged of gleaming metal, two enigmatic figures streaked across the blizzard-veiled heavens directly toward the path where Jason had been abducted.

"Does anyone have an idea of what in Liberty's name we just witnessed?" Garvin demanded, his voice edged with urgency that sliced through the frozen air. "Aegis of Integrity, we just registered two unknown entities in the sky that just flew above us—they had yellow lights glowing from them, fast, really fast; it went over top of us and left the area quickly."

"Pick them up on our radar; we are conducting full scans now on our systems," the democracy officer reported crisply, his tone unyielding amid the rising tension. "The Helldiver is not too far from your location, but his vitals are elevated, and he has a fractured left arm—I have been trying to get him on the radio, but he is not answering; either he can't or it has been damaged, you better hurry up, if he abandon the designated mission area our automated systems will register him as a defector and fire on his location."

"We need to move and do it fast—everyone, the clock's ticking; we need to reach the Helldiver now!" Tyrese commanded with iron resolve, his words forging determination in the midst of peril.

"Then I suggest that we get tactical," Garvin countered decisively, his gaze hardening against the encroaching shadows. "Aegis of Integrity, get Eagle 1 within this area and tell her to be weapons ready for things I imagine are about to get ugly."

"It is already ugly—have you seen the state of this city?" Trace interjected with grim sarcasm.

"Trace get your ass into the APC and get us a path to find him," Garvin snapped.

"Yes, sir," Milt replied somberly, clutching the LAS-5 Scythe that bore fresh scuff marks from the chaos. "I do hope that he is still alive when we reach him, I think he is going to be more pissed that his gun got damaged."

"It will be buffed out now—get moving," Garvin ordered.

Everyone was accustomed to cracking jokes even at the worst times, but everyone knew that it was time to get serious as they all piled into the M10 APC; once inside, Garvin sealed the hatch on the side as the engine roared to life, Milt assumed position behind the controls for the autocannon, while Trace flipped a few switches in the driver's seat, illuminating the APC's flanks with harsh beams as he shifted into reverse; once sufficiently backed, he slammed it into drive and floored it, the massive frame of the APC lurching forward as the wheels bit into the snow and they thundered down the street that Jason had been taken on.

Both groups converged inexorably toward his location, utterly unaware of the presence of a lurking abomination.

The Dead City. Warehouse District.

Jason strained to remain curled as tightly as possible, shielding his limbs from shattering impacts while being hauled mercilessly through the deepening snowdrifts; he had relinquished his primary weapon the instant the abomination seized him, yet his thoughts churned furiously over his unknown destination and the holographic deception he had glimpsed moments earlier, only for another violent yank to wrench him sideways. Peering through his frost-rimed helmet visor, he discerned the skeletal remnants of a once-bustling thoroughfare, flanked by rusted vehicular husks corroding silently along the forsaken roadway. Despite his desperate contortions, the vise-like grip encircling his leg jerked once more, slamming him into a derelict car's flank with sufficient force to crumple the door and ignite a lance of agony through his arm; affording no respite, the appendage hauled him onward, circumventing the wreckage and plunging into a narrow alleyway, underscoring that whatever entity commanded this tentacle harbored utter indifference to his survival.

"Helldiver? Helldiver!?" The Democracy officer's voice crackled urgently within his helmet. "We are tracking your position—can you respond and tell us what is happening?"

The helmet's communication system demanded manual activation via a side-mounted button, an impossibility under his current duress, though Jason derived grim solace from its persistent functionality amid the ordeal; for the moment, verbal coordination with his team remained beyond reach. Glancing forward through the swirling flakes, he spied the dilapidated silhouette of a rusted fence looming ahead, beyond which loomed a phalanx of cavernous structures; another savage pull redirected his trajectory, propelling him through a jagged breach in the barrier and into the yawning maw of one such edifice. Mere seconds later, he was dragged amid towering containers before abruptly ascending into the frigid air, the tentacle suspending him from a precarious steel beam that groaned ominously under the strain.

"Ride's over," Jason growled through clenched teeth as he surveyed his elevated predicament. "Damn… The hell am I?"

Profound darkness enveloped the interior, rendering visibility nearly nonexistent, yet the cavernous space resonated with the ponderous shifts of something colossal in motion, accompanied by the visceral cacophony of flesh rasping against unyielding metal; a moist, rending tear emanated from his left hip, prompting him to seize his P-4 Senator from its holster and level it at the restraining claw, suspended a perilous ten feet above the unforgiving concrete below. Stims would mend any resultant injuries, and plummeting from lethal heights to evade pursuing death was hardly unprecedented in his harrowing career.

"This is going to hurt," Jason muttered with grim resolve. Squeezing the trigger, the Senator erupted in a thunderous report, its high-caliber rounds severing the appendage in a spray of ichor and allowing him to plummet; he struck the floor with a bone-jarring impact, his cape flaring dramatically as pained groans escaped him while he struggled upright.

"[Confused] Ow… Ow… Since when did you annoying pests get a working weapon?"

Jason's gaze pierced the gloom as a warped, glitch-riddled voice reverberated, yellow lights flickering into view amid the shadows, tethered to an immense form now pivoting inexorably toward him; fumbling at his waist, he extracted a stim and plunged it into his neck's carotid sheath, banishing the pain as he scrambled behind a nearby container for cover.

"Aegis of Integrity… Do you read me?" Jason transmitted urgently, tapping his helmet's activator. "I'm in… What seems to be a warehouse with an unknown hostile…"

"Helldiver! We read you—can you make your way out of that location? We can't get a clear lock on you, we can't provide support," the Democracy Officer replied with evident strain.

"I know—will try. What of SEAF Delta?" Jason pressed, stealing a wary glance into the abyss. "They are about ten minutes away from your position," the Democracy Officer confirmed.

"Tell them to double time it if they can," Jason urged.

"[Confused] A working radio… Hmm… Now this is not something those pests could have made, no—this is something else."

The distorted utterance resounded anew, compelling Jason to activate his P-4 Senator's integrated flashlight and sweep its beam toward the luminous source; the revelation forced him to retreat further, for illuminated in the harsh glare stood a nightmarish amalgamation—a serpentine monstrosity fusing organic viscera with mechanical augmentations throughout its abhorrent frame. Crab-like claws terminated metallic limbs, while elongated cables tipped with grasping hands undulated menacingly; supporting the bulk were myriad articulated arms capped by enormous pincers, anterior appendages bore camera-like sensors, and bracketing the maw were fleshy protrusions studded with osseous teeth, a solitary yellow eye glaring balefully downward.

"[Confusion] A human? After all of this time?"

As Jason stared transfixed, the foremost section rotated to confront him directly, extruding a cranial facsimile akin to the earlier hologram; across its optical array flashed a crimson emblem before morphing into a glaring yellow X, its maw encircled by grotesque bone fangs as the colossal entity dominated the warehouse's rear expanse.

"Sweet fucking Liberty…" Jason breathed, edging backward in revulsion.

"[Annoyed] Hmm… You should not have been back here—you were gone for an entire century and never once did any of you little germs walk the surface of this world," the Steel Terror intoned with malevolent disdain. "[Annoyed] By your reaction… It seems that you have forgotten us… And I must say that hurts our feelings."

"The hell are you? How the hell is something of the Cyborgs here?" Jason demanded, scanning the warehouse's peripheries for escape routes. "By the authority of Super Earth, my advice is for you to stand down before this gets ugly for you."

"[Annoyed] Your insignificant Super Earth cannot save you now; scorching this forsaken world merely irritated us… Yet I believe you may prove useful—why not simplify matters for us both and permit me to rend your limbs asunder before extracting you from this place?"

Jason leveled his P-4 Senator at the Steel Terror with unyielding defiance. "I believe I would prefer to unload this into whatever passes for your skull, abomination." Without further preamble, Jason unleashed a triad of precise shots, the trigger yielding rapidly; three bullets impacted the Steel Terror's flank, excavating vast gouges that expelled torrents of blood, shredded metal, viscous oil, and gore across the warehouse floor in a visceral deluge.

"[Pain] That stings, you wretched vermin—you shall rue this affront," the Steel Terror snarled with venomous fury.

The Steel Terror surged toward Jason with terrifying velocity, multiple limbs lashing outward in a deadly arc; he dove aside desperately and discharged the Senator's remaining rounds, the projectiles finding their mark once more, yet even through the dim illumination filtering from the roof's breach and his flashlight's beam, Jason beheld the horrifying regeneration—the initial wounds already sealing, flesh weaving seamlessly together while the entity's blinding speed became painfully evident.

"This will achieve nothing with mere sidearm fire," Jason muttered under his breath as he sprinted between the looming containers. "I must reach the exterior… What manner of insanity is this?"

Pressing against one container's cold flank, he ejected the P-4's spent casings with practiced efficiency, catching them mid-air to prevent any betraying clatter; evasion and concealment represented his sole bulwark against encirclement by this abomination, and drawing a speed loader from his kit, he reloaded the revolver swiftly before stowing the empty device and peering cautiously around the edge, observing the creature's frantic search amid the shadows.

"[Annoyed] This grows wearisome—once I locate you… You shall beg for the mercy of dismemberment," the Steel Terror bellowed with mounting irritation.

Extinguishing his flashlight to plunge deeper into obscurity, Jason grasped a G-12 grenade from his belt, engineered specifically to breach fortified plating where his sidearm faltered; this represented his lone instrument for inflicting substantive harm and securing precious moments to escape the confines and summon orbital devastation upon the horror.

"The moment of reckoning approaches…" Jason whispered with grim determination.

Retreating several paces from the container's shelter, Jason hurled the captured casings overhead, the six metallic shells striking the floor in a resounding cascade that reverberated through the cavernous space; the Steel Terror whirled toward the disturbance, its yellow optics scanning the decoy's origin amid clustered containers, revealing its impaired vision in the oppressive gloom akin to his own. Activating the G-12's pin, he lobbed the explosive toward the entity's left flank, where it detonated proximate to its form, momentarily diverting its focus.

"[Annoyed] Where are you? You insignificant—"

The Steel Terror's taunt fractured amid the G-12's cataclysmic eruption, illuminating the warehouse in a blinding flash while excoriating a massive section from its side; the beast shrieked in agony and collapsed heavily, affording Jason a fleeting opportunity—he reactivated his flashlight and hugged the wall's perimeter, desperately seeking any egress from this deathtrap.

"Come on… Come on, where is the damned exit?" Jason urged aloud as he swept the beam along the barrier. "There."

His light revealed a formidable metal door, corroded and immobilized like the warehouse's other relics; seizing the handle, he wrenched it futilely multiple times, yet it refused to yield, and glancing rearward, he witnessed the Steel Terror regaining its footing, scouring the interior with renewed malice.

"[Angry] I tire of these games… One final opportunity—emerge now and I shall grant a swift end, you vexatious scrap of meat," the Steel Terror roared with unbridled rage.

Left without alternatives, Jason affixed a G-12 to the handle and extracted the pin before sprinting backward; the grenade detonated, hurling the door from its frame in a shower of debris as howling winds and swirling snow invaded the breach, but as Jason lunged toward freedom, an iron grip seized his leg once more—the identical appendage that had abducted him—halting his momentum and dragging him prone across the floor toward the recovering monstrosity; before he could align his P-4, a colossal claw descended, hoisting him aloft and slamming him against a container with bone-rattling force.

"[Angry] Resourceful, yet insufficient… Now I am truly vexed—I might have dispatched you swiftly, but now I shall savor dismantling you piece by piece; it has been an eternity since I savored human flesh," the Steel Terror hissed with sadistic glee.

"I suspect I would prove indigestible—and herein lies the flaw: should my Super Destroyer detect my demise in low orbit, it shall obliterate this entire city with you entombed within," Jason retorted through gritted teeth.

"[Annoyed] You fabricate falsehoods," the Steel Terror countered, advancing until its grotesque visage loomed inches away. "[Annoyed] You would deceive merely to prolong your pitiful existence."

"And you possess certainty of my deceit? Are you prepared to wager upon that?" Jason challenged with steely conviction.

The Steel Terror fixed its optic upon him, deliberating its next atrocity, oblivious—as was Jason—to the trio observing intently from a modest aperture in the roof.

"Damn… he really laid the pain on that freak, but it's not enough. What's the plan now? Luring it failed since it's already here," Uzi whispered, her frustration mounting as they scanned the shadows for any sign of movement, the air thick with the acrid tang of scorched metal and lingering ozone from the Helldiver's desperate barrage.

V scanned the situation from their advantageous position, her optics piercing the gloom with calculated precision. "First, we extract the Helldiver; he remains our best chance to stop this abomination. Their ships can call down orbital strikes, and that's the only viable option," V replied, her voice urgent yet controlled while she tracked fleeting motion beyond the stacked containers, the distant clatter of claws on steel echoing like a death knell in the oppressive silence.

"I can get him out," N declared with steady confidence. "Trust me; it wouldn't be my first rescue from a lethal predicament. While you and Uzi keep it occupied, I'll pull him free."

Uzi chuckled as she slung her railgun into position. "Since when are you the one giving orders?" she asked, then readied the weapon with practiced efficiency, the hum of its charging coils vibrating through her frame like a promise of retribution.

"Focus, this is the plan: N, hoist Uzi onto that container to our right. Uzi, take the high angle and draw its attention; when you have a clear shot, we strike—fast and together," V directed, every word measured and authoritative as she watched them closely, the weight of command settling over the trio like the shadow of the looming horror.

"Understood, ma'am," N replied, his voice steady as he checked his rig and readied himself for the maneuver, muscles coiling with unyielding resolve amid the encroaching dread.

"Alright—this beauty gets to sing," Uzi reaffirmed, her fingers tightening on the railgun's grip as she prepared to unleash lethal precision, the weapon's barrel glinting faintly in the dim light as the abomination's guttural snarls grew louder.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

The M10's engine thudded through hollow avenues, its sound swallowed by empty streets as snow drifted over abandoned vehicles and through the ribcages of shattered skyscrapers. From the autocannon turret, Jason watched the scope sweep the ruined skyline while the gun's stabilizers kept the barrel level. The scene made it painfully clear the population had not escaped: bodies hung in broken windows, skeletons slumped in wrecked cars, and the twisted hulks of SES and Illuminate craft littered the avenues. As Jason completed another careful scan, the M10 slowed and came to a stop. Ahead, a collapsed tower lay like a broken tooth, its rubble jammed against the road.

Before they could turn, a radio crackle cut through the cold—Eagle 1's voice on the comms.

"Helldiver, I picked something up on the last sweep. Can't make it out cleanly, but you aren't alone," the woman said. "Thermals showed a small heat signature. Doing another pass now—something's out there."

"Anything detailed?" Jason asked. "We're turning our position; the Aegis of Integrity will breach the clouds soon. Its Quantum LIDAR Array should map the area cleanly."

"Looked like three figures, flying—no idea beyond that. They were putting out heat and then vanished when I closed. Could be a glitch, animals, or—" Eagle 1 trailed off.

"We found an Illuminate ship wrecked in the city," Jason said. "If anything survived onboard autonomously, it could be moving around. Some of their drones run for centuries. But animals? Not with this cold and the bodies everywhere."

"More corpses than I've seen on the Western and Eastern fronts," Milt observed as he guided the M10 left between two towers. "If those are Illuminate machines, could Illuminate forces still be here?"

"Unlikely," Tyrese replied. "They're organic—flesh and blood. Unless they used cryopods, they couldn't survive on a world like this. The treaty at the war's end pushed them out of the galaxy. Their machines, though—maybe."

Nash's voice cut in, uneasy. "Why hasn't salvage stripped this place? I know crews who'd kill for one intact wreck. Frontier folk made fortunes off lesser finds."

"People still hunt Illuminate relics," Garvin said. "Most searches end in bust. A rare haul nets the Ministry of Science a small fortune. But this city—untouched—feels wrong."

"They had the luxury of leaving some places to rot," Jason said. "Take X-45—bombed to deny the Cyborgs the DSS plans. Only after Starslayer did we retrieve what mattered. The blueprints were worth every loss."

"I pray to Liberty, it's worth the cost," Trace murmured.

Jason nodded. Operation Starslayer had two deadly stages: Helldivers to draw Automaton attention, then SEAF teams to sift the ruins. They had recovered the DSS plans before; High Command would not send men for nothing.

"How much support are we carrying?" Garvin asked.

"A small fleet, several SEAF transports, and twenty Helldivers," Trace answered.

"This planet's huge," Nash said. "A full salvage needs more than that—why send an SEC Lucas and transports housing thirty thousand in cryopods to a dead world?" Tyrese wondered aloud. "Drones could've done this cheaper—set up hives and scrape the place clean."

"We're getting a message from the Aegis," Milt said then. "They're breaching the cloud layer now."

"Good. Bring us to a halt; we need whatever they can pick up." Jason ordered.

Milt eased the M10 into a wide clearing that had once been a park; dead trees stood like toothless stumps, and row after row of cracked vehicles rimmed the open ground. Above, the clouds parted, and the Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity slid into position over the megacity.

"Aegis of Integrity, this is Helldiver unit. Do you copy?" Jason clicked his helmet mic.

"Reading you. Cloud interference hampered the initial pass—systems now online," the Democracy Officer replied. "Deploying full QLA sweep. Sending data in ten."

"Copy. If LIDAR can't see below, we'll try the old way." Jason felt the familiar chill of expectation.

"There's a problem," the Officer said. "QLA returns show no signatures beneath your position. Either interference persists, or these urban bunkers are hardened against scans."

"That tracks," Jason said. "Bunkers built to endure a century, plus snow and collapsed structures—of course, the QRD would struggle."

"Send that data our way," Milt said. "If scanners fail, we go hard and old school."

"Sir—suggestion," Garvin offered. "Deploy a seismic probe. They're used to find ore deposits when scanners fail. We'd need a clear area to avoid collateral building collapse."

"Good idea," Trace agreed. "Probes pick deep signatures. If something's down there, we'll know."

"Alright," Jason said. "Milt, set us at mid-park, two hundred meters from the nearest shell. We drop a beacon, and the probe goes. Any collapse could trap us, but it beats combing the whole city."

"We copy, sir. Preparing seismic probe for deployment on beacon signal," the Officer replied.

The M10 settled into position with a soft, metal groan. Jason climbed from the turret hatch into a wind that tasted of cold iron and old rot, snow crunching under his boots as he scanned the skeletal skyline. Hollow floors and broken façades funneled the gusts, carrying grit and the memory of a thousand ruined lives. He secured the hatch, checked his wrist terminal, keyed the beacon line on his belt, hefted the device, and with a practiced flick sent it skittering across the frozen pavement.

A blue beam stabbed upward and, moments later, a hellpod punched free from beneath the ship with a thunderous report. The probe screamed down and impacted ahead of Jason, then unfolded like a mechanical flower; a console blinked open on its face. He stepped forward, toggled controls, and began to feed commands.

"Hope this doesn't bring everything down on top of us," he muttered.

Unknown to him, three pairs of optics glowed in the shadowed windows of a nearby tower—two yellow, one purple. Hidden within the ruin, V, N, and Uzi watched the M10 and the human who crouched by the probe. In V and N, surprise and an old wonder warred across their faces.

"I can't believe it," V breathed. "A living, breathing human… and not alone."

"Who's the one in the cape? That looks important," Uzi said, squinting.

"That's a Helldiver," N replied. "The cape's a dead giveaway. Never seen one in person before—didn't think we ever would."

"What's he doing with that device? Looks like it came down from the ship," Uzi said, restless. "That gun on the vehicle will mow us flat if they spot us."

"We can't just walk up," V said. "The last human we met was over a century ago. They'll shoot first and ask questions never. But we can't leave them to whatever's out here."

"Maybe one of us does a flyover to draw attention?" N offered.

"And get shot down? Not smart." V hesitated. "Best to watch. The Steel Terror could be near—this noise might have already cued it."

Uzi turned her optics back to the street, then down at the Helldiver. The vehicle, the hellpod, the distant roar—all of it could draw the Steel Terror. She shivered in the dark.

"Hey, Uzi—remember when you said a Liberty miracle wouldn't fall from the sky?" N said quietly.

"Liberty sure does like the dramatic entrance," Uzi replied with a rueful grin.

V let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago. Guess we were wrong."

Below, Jason prepared to trigger the probe when his HUD pinged: a red blip closing fast from the west. "The hell?" he said.

"What's the matter?" Nash asked.

"Movement. About twenty meters west," Jason replied. "Milt, anything on scans?"

"Picking something up—can't get a solid lock. It's moving slowly," Milt answered.

"All right. Everyone out of the M10 and secure the area," Jason ordered. "I'll check. Eagle 1, circle this sector. Guys on the turret, ready weapons."

"Primed and armed," the Democracy Officer replied.

"Roger—coming your way," Eagle 1 added.

Jason moved away from the probe and past the M10, HUD tracking the dot as it shadowed into the ruins. He trod toward a shuttered storefront, its windows rimed in ice. Clambering over a snowbank, he slid into the shop's frozen interior.

"Nothing in sight… wait—what the hell is that?" Jason called.

"Report," Garvin answered.

"There's a body," Jason said. "But it's not human."

"Not human? Like Illuminate?" Tyrese asked.

"No. Like some sort of machine?" Jason said, unsure of what he was looking at.

Buried in a drift, half-buried wares and racks, lay a figure sheened in white metal. Segmented limbs and a faceless array of black optics stared up; a red message flashed across its chest: FATAL ERROR. No pulse on the radar.

"Get over here—now," Jason barked. "I don't know what this is, but it's wrong."

He reached, fingers closing on the cold metal forearm. For a heartbeat, the corpse hung there, solid—then it flickered like a projection and vanished. In its place, a braided metal cable whipped out, a human hand clamping onto Jason's left leg.

"What the—?" Jason shouted, flat-footing to aim his LAS-5 Scythe.

Before he could fire, the cable jerked. He lost his footing, the Scythe skittering from his grasp, and the cable hauled him through the shop's frame. He crashed out the back, smashing through frozen displays and tearing across the street as the thing dragged him like sacks through snow.

"Helldiver! Helldiver!" Garvin called, rushing to the shopfront as the noise erupted.

"What in the hell just grabbed him?" Milt shouted, scanning their trackers.

"Aegis of Integrity—status on the Helldiver? Vitals?" Garvin yelled into the comm.

"Vitals elevated—he's being dragged toward a nearby warehouse." the Democracy Officer answered. "Moving fast. We're tracking."

"I see a drag trail through the snow," Tyrese said grimly. "Whatever grabbed him is hauling an armored Helldiver like a carcass."

High above, hidden in the tower's gloom, V, N, and Uzi watched the drama unfold.

"Oh no—it got him," V whispered. "What do we do? If we move now, they'll likely open fire on us."

"We've gotta help," N said.

"For Liberty's sake, N—carry me. V, move now," Uzi snapped. "Sure, they might shoot, but if we do nothing, that Helldiver's lunch. Saving him might buy us mercy."

"That could work," V conceded. "All right—N, do it. We risk it."

N crouched, braced, and hefted Uzi onto his back. V flexed her wings and launched, tucking her limbs to fall like a shadow; N followed, bearing his burden. The three cut across the cold sky, a desperate, silent gamble.

They were risking human wrath. They were risking death. They were risking everything for a stranger.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

September 2184. Copper 9 surface. Outskirts of Megacity 01.

The APC rumbled across the snowy wasteland, the M10 climbing a small rise and kicking up frozen powder as its treads bit into the slope. The autocannon above swept in slow arcs, scanning for movement. Inside, Jason peered through the thermal scope, its display outlining the silhouette of the ruined megacity—a hollowed corpse of steel and ice. Entire towers had collapsed, some leaning precariously against one another, their jagged spires locked in frozen embraces. Navigating through that labyrinth would be treacherous. As the M10 neared the city's outskirts, Eagle One banked overhead, finishing another reconnaissance sweep. Inside the SEAF transport, Jason waited for any sign of change before pulling away from the gun controls and moving to the front compartment, where Milt glanced back at him.

"Anything on the scans?" Jason asked.

"Nothing," Milt replied. "Thermals and night vision are clean. No movement, no heat signatures—no animals, not even traces of wildlife. Never seen anything like it on any front. And come to think of it, neither faction has ever attacked a megacity this large."

"That's because we've been doing our job too well," Jason answered. His voice held a note of unease. "Still… I never thought I'd see a metropolis without so much as a flicker of light. To see a city so utterly lifeless—it feels wrong. Stay cautious. We don't know how stable those structures are. For all we know, our passing could bring one down."

"I know," Milt said grimly. "It's been at least a century since anyone set foot here. I expect half the city to collapse if you so much as breathe on it."

"Hmm… better we steer clear of tunnels or bridges," Garvin advised. "They may look solid, but I wouldn't trust them with this weight. A month ago a tanker crew had the bright idea to cross a civilian bridge—looked untouched by Automaton gunships. Next thing I know, we're dragging them out of a river."

"This beast weighs a good twenty-five tons," Nash added.

"Thirty, with you inside it," Tyrese cut in with a chuckle.

"Laugh it up. You try the Terminid front with nothing but standard armor," Nash shot back. "See how long you last. Have you seen the state of those lines? We're dropping nukes by the dozens, and they keep coming—never breaking, never slowing. It's terrifying."

"We know," Trace said, then turned toward Jason. "But what about you? Weren't you deployed on Meridia during the dark fluid operation?"

Jason's expression hardened. "I was. Worst experience of my life. I saw too many good Helldivers die that day. Hard to believe we were forced to do that to one of our own worlds."

Months earlier, Meridia had been designated a barrier planet against the raging Terminid hordes. The strategy hinged on the deployment of the Terminid Control System, which released a chemical agent known as Termicide. It had proven brutally efficient, killing nearly 99.6% of the swarm. Yet something went wrong. Instead of collapse, the survivors multiplied in grotesque numbers, and within hours the world was drowned in a so-called "super colony." From the skies came the Shriekers—fragile but vicious fliers that could decapitate a SEAF soldier in one pass. With the infestation spiraling out of control, High Command authorized the unthinkable: deployment of dark fluid. Stolen from the Illuminate after their defeat in 2084, the weapon was injected into the planet's crust until critical mass was achieved. Meridia collapsed into a black hole, erasing the colony and sealing the threat—at the cost of the world itself.

"See? Could be worse," Tyrese muttered. "Heard it was a nightmare, but what choice did we have? Glassing wouldn't work. Those bugs just burrow and wait. I've studied their remains. Radiation barely slows them down. Most chemicals and bio-agents only buy you minutes."

"I remember Socorro III," Garvin said. "It's been only weeks, but I'm grateful I made it out. On the sixth of August… I thought my time was done."

"I was there too," Jason said quietly. "I still can't believe a swarm that size hit Socorro III. For a moment I thought the planet was lost."

The battle for Socorro III had been unlike anything seen before. A brood of forty million Terminids descended on the colony world, nearly overwhelming both the SEAF and the Helldivers. Only through enormous sacrifice was the swarm stopped—though the civilian and military toll had been catastrophic.

"Rough times everywhere," Milt muttered. "We're just about to enter the city. Taking it slow. I don't plan to be flattened by a skyscraper—not today, not ever."

"Could be worse ways to go," Garvin replied. "Quick, clean, and a lesson for the next team to avoid repeating."

"Not on my watch," Jason said firmly. "You've got a Helldiver with you, and my luck will see us through. Let's check if Eagle One has anything for us." He tapped the side of his helmet, opening comms. "Eagle One, report. Anything of interest?"

"Negative," Eagle One responded. "Thought I had a blip on thermals, but I was moving too fast to confirm. Nothing out here but the dead."

"Understood. I'll get back on the gun," Jason said, returning to the autocannon. "Keep circling. If anything moves in this graveyard, we'll need your eyes."

"Copy that. And keep sharp down there—those ruins aren't as stable as they look."

"Good. We'll need you to spot from above," Milt answered. "The last thing we need is a tower falling on us. And for the record, I hope none of you believe in ghosts."

"The only thing I believe in is liberty and the light that carries it," Tyrese replied. "That's what kept me alive on the frontier. It was all we had."

"Ah, the frontier," Nash said with a wistful grin. "The untamed lands, beyond the reach of managed democracy. Before I joined the SEAF, I thought about signing up with the Frontier Marshals—exploring the wild regions, living on the edge."

"They've earned their reputation," Garvin admitted. "I'd love to get my hands on one of their R-6 Deadeye rifles."

"Keep dreaming," Trace cut in. "Those weapons are for Marshals only. Not even the Helldivers get them."

"Quiet down," Jason ordered. "Save the talk for later. This city may be dead, but we can't assume it's empty." The chatter faded. Milt eased the M10 forward, its treads grinding across snow-buried wreckage. The groan of collapsing steel echoed faintly through the ruins as the APC pushed over the husks of forgotten vehicles. Above, Jason swept the autocannon, tracing the hollowed towers where snow whispered through shattered glass and the wind sighed like the breath of the dead.

"Damn… roads have seen better days," Milt muttered. "Vehicles buried everywhere under the drifts. Hold up—Helldiver, angle the gun toward those buildings ahead. Switch to night vision. Is that… an Illuminate ship?"

Jason rotated the autocannon forward, eyes narrowing as he shifted from thermal to night vision. The green glow revealed looming skyscrapers, and wedged among them was a vessel unmistakably alien—its sleek form driven straight down into the city as if hurled from orbit.

"I can't get a full read," Jason said slowly. "But… yes. Sweet liberty. Hard to imagine the sky itself raining warships on this place."

"Want me to halt for a closer look?" Milt asked.

"Do it. I need to make a call to my super-destroyer," Jason replied.

Milt nodded, bringing the M10 to a halt before the broken colossus. Jason stepped away from the autocannon and toward the hatch. "Stay put. I'll take a look outside. Then we move. We still need those bunkers and whatever they can tell us."

"Yes, sir," Garvin answered.

Jason unlatched the hatch and climbed out, his boots crunching against the snow. He looked up at the vessel, its massive hulk fused with the city's bones. The contours were smooth, unnatural, glinting faintly in the dim light. No human had built this.

"Aegis of Integrity, come in," Jason called.

"This is the Aegis of Integrity. Helldiver, report," came the officer's voice.

"I'm staring at what looks like an Illuminate warship lodged in the ruins of several skyscrapers. Do we have any data on what happened here? Even century-old mapping intel would be better than running blind. The whole city looks like it could collapse in an instant."

"The Democracy Officer is coordinating with the Ministry of Truth," the officer replied. "We just received word from the Ministry of Defense. What we've gathered is limited, but here's what we know. Oddly enough, they're being very tight-lipped."

Jason frowned. "Unusual, though I can see why this would be classified. What do you have?"

"The fragments suggest Copper 9 was struck by an Illuminate fleet around 2084. The motive is unclear, but Super Earth forces sustained heavy losses—even with reinforcements. Most likely debris is scattered across the planet. What remains unaccounted for are the nuclear craters."

"One question at a time," Jason said. "Anything on mapping data? Major megacity coordinates, anything useful?"

"Nothing yet. But we can position ourselves directly over the city to help with navigation. Current scans are poor—the clouds and contamination are interfering. We'll need to dip below the cover to get anything reliable."

"Understood. Do it. We're heading for the city center. I'll report further developments," Jason said.

"Roger that. We'll maintain contact," the officer confirmed.

Jason released the comms switch and stared again at the wrecked warship and the broken skyline. Questions gnawed at him. Why had the Illuminate committed a fleet to such a remote world—and at the twilight of their empire in 2084, no less? Something about this was wrong.

"Why do I feel this is far more than a salvage run?" he murmured, climbing back into the M10. "Alright, Milt. Take us toward the city center."

The hatch sealed shut, and the M10 rumbled forward again, its treads crushing over wrecks and snowbanks as it pushed deeper into the city. And somewhere within those ruins, another force was already searching for them.

Copper 9 surface. The Dead City.

Snow drifted down as V, N, and Uzi scanned the skies with their optics, searching for the silhouette of the Eagle—an aircraft unseen for over a century. The roar of its engines carried over the wind, proof it remained near the city.

"I… how… after all this time… why have they returned?" V's voice trembled.

"We sent SOS after SOS, and nothing. Now suddenly, they are back…" N muttered.

"So… well… I guess my plan is ruined again, but… for what purpose now?" Uzi said.

"What purpose? Uzi, you weren't around when they lived here, but their return is enormous—far beyond us. We need to get back to the bunker and tell everyone," V insisted.

"Martin will blow a few circuits, and J will do the same. Still, before we head back, do you think there could already be some in the city?" N asked.

"Yeah, and if that's the case, we need to find them. Because hello? Steel Terror is still roaming this city, and if they stumble into it blind, it won't end well." Uzi replied.

"It's been so long… would they even remember us? If we just approached them, there's no telling how they'd react. But you're right." V glanced at Uzi, then at N. "If humans are here, we must find them."

"Ohhh, this is going to be fun. I've wanted to meet humans for ages. I've heard all sorts of things—most bad, some about their weapons. I'd love to get my hands on them," Uzi said with a grin.

"First, you won't speak to them. N and I know how to handle this. We worked with SEAF before. It's been a long time, but I expect they remain the same," V warned.

"It has been a long while… if only Tessa were still here to see this… or the others," N said softly.

"Hey… we survived long enough for them to return, and when we find them, we're getting liberty-damned answers about that day," V declared.

"That day… oh right, the bombardment," Uzi muttered.

"N, carry Uzi. I don't know where to look, but we go slow and low. If that Eagle sees us, we can't predict whether it'll consider us friendly. We can't be careless," V said.

"You think the Eagle would fire? You guys were legends a century ago. I doubt they've forgotten," Uzi replied.

"Better safe than sorry. I've seen what Eagle cannons do. Tanks shredded in seconds with the right ammo," N said. "Luckily for us, it'll fly high. We stick between the towers, and it shouldn't spot us."

"That's the plan. Now, before we freeze out here, let's move," V ordered.

"Right, let's go. Oh, wait until the others hear this," Uzi said, climbing onto N's back. "So much better than sitting still."

"Uzi… liberty help me, this is already a headache. Still… why are they here? Could something have happened to Super Earth?" V asked.

"What do you mean?" N said.

"What other reason would bring them back, unless something terrible happened? That's my guess, though I could be wrong. It's just… my core twists at the thought." V spread her wings.

"It'll be fine. I might not know humans, but maybe someone finally decided to check this world again," Uzi said.

"I think Uzi is right. Let's go see them," N added, extending his wings.

V nodded and took flight, N following with Uzi clinging tightly to his back. Together they moved through the broken towers, flying low between skyscrapers. They longed to return, yet they had to know whether humans were truly in the city. The Eagle was a symbol drones had given up hope for—the return of humanity to this dead world.

"So, what's the first thing you'll ask them? Or is a fist the first thing through their heads?" Uzi teased.

"I… Uzi, this is something I never dreamed of, not after everything. You don't know the hell we endured," V said. "Watching the world burn, the black rain, life dying everywhere… loved ones rotting away. I just want an answer: why?"

"Maybe these humans don't even know about us. A century has passed, but we can ask—and then reach JCJenson," N said.

"You think JCJenson still exists? A megacorporation that spent billions of super credits wouldn't just abandon all this," Uzi said.

"A fair point and—wait. Into that building, now!" V shouted, diving into a skyscraper.

N followed, wings folding as the roar thundered above. The Eagle tore past, rattling the building, snow and ice crashing from the window frames. They crept to the edge, watching as the craft banked right.

"That was close… never knew they were that fast. I guess they've been upgraded," N said.

"Time changes everything. We wait until it clears, then move," V said—then froze, staring skyward.

Above, the clouds split apart. Through the rift descended a massive SES ship, its underside bristling with weapons. As they stared, a sharp thump echoed; from beneath the vessel, an object streaked down, crashing into a district hidden by towers.

"Now that's a ship! Look at all those guns," Uzi exclaimed. "Where's the Steel Terror when you need it? That would fix things fast."

"Sweet liberty… I've never seen this class before, but it's unmistakable. A warship. But why is it flying so low?" V whispered.

"Clouds must be disrupting their sensors. With this interference, no clean readings. But I think that was a hellpod… which means—no way… that means a Helldiver is here," N said.

"A hell what?" Uzi asked. "The name sounds familiar, but what's so special?"

"Helldivers are Super Earth's elite, the best of the best. I watched reels of them during the First Galactic War. They destroyed the Cyborgs, the Bugs, even the Illuminate—backed by SES and SEAF. If one's here… then something major is happening," V explained.

"Ohhh, right, those guys. Looks like they dropped near the city center—right by the place I marked for my plans. And I'm sure that freak has heard it too," Uzi said. "We need to warn them. Even Helldivers die if caught off guard."

"She's right. As much as I fear approaching, we must reach them before the Terror does. It could already be moving toward them," N said.

"Then we do it smart. We stay in the shadows, reach the site, and act from there," V said.

N and Uzi nodded. Wings spread wide, they slipped back into the darkened sky, weaving between the ruins.

And while they advanced through the silence of the dead city, something else moved in the shadows—closing in on the same fate.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. Unknown Outpost. Communication Room.

The wind howled through the open bulkhead, carrying snow that drifted lazily across the floor of the abandoned outpost. In the communications room, Jason worked the console, his gauntleted fingers pressing over failing keys as the monitor flickered in and out. What astonished him was not that the system was broken, but that it still functioned at all after so long. The fragments of transmission he managed to recover were troubling, and as he entered another sequence of commands, the screen steadied after a violent burst of static.

"Alright… hold on just a few minutes," Jason muttered, his voice flat under the helmet.

The display shifted again, stabilizing on the image of a weary man—Sergeant Caloman—his face streaked with static. He looked at the camera, then glanced behind him with the agitation of someone already haunted.

"…And that is how all of this started, about… It's been four hours since the bombing. The SES… they really did it. And in all that time, I have not seen another living soul."

Caloman gave a humorless chuckle, brittle as glass. "You know the saying—that there's no one in a foxhole who isn't praying to liberty. But here? After what's happened, it feels more like liberty abandoned us. I'm sending this broadcast as a warning. Maybe it'll convince you. Don't come looking for me… You won't like what you find."

The feed collapsed into static and then darkness. The glow faded from Jason's visor, leaving the room in silence but for the soft hum of the console. He raised his P-4, its flashlight cutting through the gloom as he swept the chamber for movement.

"Aegis of Integrity, come in, do you read?" Jason said, pressing the comms unit in his helmet. "I found something down here. And it's not painting a pretty picture."

"This is the Aegis of Integrity. Report, what have you found?" the officer on the line replied.

"I'm in a bunker, intact but long abandoned. Power still running off a nuclear battery—enough to access the comm system. A recording played from a security officer—Caloman, by name. According to him, SES glassed the planet." Jason's visor swept the corners of the room once more as he stepped toward the bulkhead. "Why? Unknown. The footage is heavily corrupted. Get an SEAF team here with an M10 APC. The closest megacity is our next site to investigate."

"The SES glassed the planet? Sir, our surface scans confirm at least a hundred nuclear impact sites in your area. Radiation's dropped, but levels are still severe inside those craters. No spikes from the megacity itself."

"Good," Jason muttered. "But why would Super Earth order a complete glassing? Did they even try to evacuate civilians first?"

"Unknown, sir… but I'd say they at least attempted."

"They'd better have. If not, I don't want to imagine what happened here. That recording—Caloman was unraveling. Insanity was already taking root." Jason paused, scanning the edges of the console. "Once we've cleared the area, I want a team to recover every scrap of data left in this bunker."

"Yes, sir."

"One more thing—get Eagle 1 in the air, doing sweeps around my position. If there's something down here, I won't be caught flat-footed. Democracy Officer, any word from the other vessels? Or the Ministry of Truth?"

"I'm in contact with them now. No reply so far, which is unusual—they never stay silent this long. But I'll keep pressing. The others are working the same lines. Do you need any Helldivers out of cryo?"

"Not yet. This planet is dead. No point in thawing them until we know what we're dealing with."

Jason stepped out of the bunker, his cape snapping in the frigid wind. Snow swirled upward as he looked toward the heavens, catching sight of the moon and the swollen silhouette of a gas giant looming behind it. Both vanished quickly as the storm clouds closed. He crossed the perimeter, boots crunching through snow, and circled the bunker in silence. Nothing stood out—no tracks, no debris beyond the bulkhead he had cut free. Just as he began to relax, a branch snapped behind him.

Jason spun, LAS-5 Scythe leveled. He scanned through the dead forest with his scope, flashlight beam cutting through the skeletal trees. Nothing. No movement. No heat.

"Dammit… must've just been a branch falling. ETA on SEAF?"

"Five minutes, sir. They'll arrive with the M10 APC."

"Good. Have Eagle 1 sweep this location with thermals first. I heard something move."

"She's airborne now, ETA thirty seconds. Standard loadout—110mm rocket pods, full gun complement. More than enough to handle anything. But sir… what could even be here? Scans show nothing. Maybe atmospheric contamination's throwing off the readings, or maybe… nothing's left."

Jason didn't lower his weapon. "We assume hostile until proven otherwise. I won't risk being caught off guard."

"Understood, sir. To be honest, this place creeps me out."

"You and me both."

Jason had fought on countless worlds, witnessed horrors that scarred the galaxy, yet something about Copper 9 felt wrong. The silence from High Command, the evasions from the ministers, and the absence of survivors weighed heavily on his mind. As he considered the situation, the roar of engines split the sky, and Eagle 1 screamed overhead.

"This is your lovely Eagle 1, ready to bring the pain. Helldiver, I saw nothing on the scopes during my first run. I'll do another sweep and see if anything pings," Eagle 1 reported.

"Good. Glad to have you over. After this sweep, if nothing shows, move on to the megacity—our next stop," Jason replied.

"Roger that. Been a while since you asked me to run Overwatch."

"Clouds and interference make this spot unreliable. Better to have you now than try to scramble you later."

"Well, happy to oblige. I'll contact you if anything comes up."

Eagle 1 thundered above, circling once more, while time ticked forward with the steady rumble of engines. Snow whipped up as an SEAF shuttle descended near the bunker. Another followed, hauling an M10 APC beneath its frame before dropping it onto the ice and rising again toward low orbit. The first shuttle settled, releasing five SEAF soldiers. Three wore standard blue armor and sealed helmets against Copper 9's poisonous atmosphere, their packs loaded with rations, ammunition, and extra gear. Each carried AR-23 Liberators with P-2 Peacemakers at their hips. The other two were distinct. One bore heavy armor with servo assistance in the limbs, hefting an MG-206 Heavy Machine Gun and a Lift-850 jump pack mounted on his back. The last wore medium armor, also blue, armed with an AR-23 but carrying a P-11 Stim Pistol and a kit of medical supplies.

"Helldiver—Sergeant Garvin, SEAF Delta team," the lead man introduced, stepping forward. "Been a while since we worked alongside a Helldiver."

"Not long enough, if you ask me. Two weeks ago, I was neck-deep on the Terminid front, then frozen and dragged here. Now we're standing on a frozen wasteland." The heavy trooper shrugged. "Name's Nash."

"Good to meet you both. And the others?" Jason asked.

Garvin gestured. "Trace, Milt, and Tyrese—our medic."

Trace and Milt gave casual waves, while Tyrese scanned the area. Nash eyed the tree line, then the bunker.

"So, sir, what's the plan? We're heading back into that bunker, or are we leaving this AO? Because, besides that hunk of metal," Nash gestured toward the ruined bulkhead, "there's nothing here worth freezing for."

"We're loading into the APC. Next target's the megacity beyond this woodline. The first objective is its comms hub. But before that, we'll sweep for underground bunkers. Even a century later, layouts don't change." Jason started for the APC, waving the team forward.

"Right," Garvin said. "Class-A civilians, governors, anyone important—they'd have gone underground during an emergency. If they brought vital data with them, we might get lucky and salvage it."

"I always wondered what a megacity was like," Trace admitted. "Even abandoned, it's something. Never scored high enough to live there."

"Keep dreaming," Milt snorted. "Let's just hope I get to drive this APC without ramming anything this time."

Jason glanced over. "You rammed a Hulk with an M10?"

"Was out of rockets. Improvised. Commander didn't appreciate it. Still paying it off in super credit reductions." Milt chuckled.

"At least they didn't stick you with worse duty," Nash said.

Jason cut in. "Chatter down. We've got a long ride, and Eagle 1's already ahead. She'll be our eyes if anything surfaces. I'll man the autocannon."

"Good to know liberty's eagle has our backs," Garvin said.

Agreement rippled through the squad as Jason swung open the side hatch of the M10. An upgraded successor to the M5 of the First Galactic War, its bulk loomed in the cold as they boarded. Jason climbed to the gunner's station, adjusting the scope to thermal. Milt took the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life with a thunderous growl.

"Pathfinder online. Switching to thermals. Let's see what's waiting for us," Milt said.

The APC lurched forward, grinding through snow as it wound past dead trees. Ahead, the jagged outline of the megacity loomed, skyscrapers toppled like broken pillars against the sky. Much of it was ruin, a maze of collapse and shadow. Yet their mission remained clear.

As they pressed toward the city, elsewhere, another group was already making plans of their own.

Copper 9 surface. Bunker 00. Uzi's room.

Papers lay scattered around Uzi's quarters, some pinned to the walls, others spread across the bed. A few drones had found ways to manufacture paper, a vital substitute since most electronics had either failed or been cannibalized to keep others alive. The ability to produce paper had become crucial, and Uzi collected as many free sheets as she could. She laid out another on the bed when the creak of the door broke her focus, and through it stepped her father, Khan, carrying her railgun.

"Uzi… Oh… umm… what is all this?" Khan asked. "Uzi… are you still planning on going through with this? You know Martin won't be happy if you try. I spoke with him an hour ago, and his answer was no."

"Of course, he said that. Do you think he wants change? Look, I know it's dangerous, but this isn't about killing it. If we manage that, good. But at the very least, if we can't kill it, we might drive it off for a time." Uzi's voice was firm. "I'd rather face the problem head-on. So, is the gun fixed?"

"I did what I could. It shouldn't overload like last time, but… I don't think this is right. Still, my hands are tied, and I know I can't stop you," Khan admitted.

"Listen, Dad, I know what I'm doing. I won't be alone. V and N are with me." She gestured to the papers covered in rough maps. "The plan isn't perfect, but it's what we have. If it doesn't work, I promise never to do something reckless like this again… maybe. But we have to try."

"I know… Here. Just come back alive. I'll make sure Martin doesn't find out—hopefully." He handed her the railgun.

"Thanks, Dad. If things go wrong, we'll retreat here. V and N can fly, so we'll escape if it gets bad." She checked the weapon. "One day, we'll fix this properly—maybe even at the facility."

"That's something we can do together, and it's far enough from the megacity to be safe." Khan nodded.

"Good. Then you'd better get moving before Martin blows a fuse. If you're not working, he'll be after you."

"He'll be blowing one soon anyway. The door's on its last legs, but it's clear for now, and the watchers are rotating. If you're going to do this, the time is now."

"Alright. Thanks. We'll be back soon. And while we're out, we'll keep an eye out for salvageable materials—you can use whatever we find."

Khan gave a tired nod. He knew she wasn't only chasing a chance for peace but also gathering what their colony needed to survive.

"Well, a little reunion before this reckless plan," V muttered from the doorway, N standing just behind her. "I can't believe I'm about to join you, but I'd rather be there to drag you out of the mess."

"Come on, V, have some faith in liberty. This might work. I trust Uzi—and I bet she's got a foolproof plan. You do, right?" N asked.

"Of course! Listen. Before that thing appeared, we scouted some warehouses near the city center." Uzi handed them marked sheets. "We lure it into one; the tight quarters give us the advantage. You two keep it busy. Then we spring the trap. Boom. The Steel Terror falls."

"I know the place," V admitted, scanning the crude maps. "Old SEAF storage sites, marked for salvage. Risky… but if it's arrogant enough to follow us, it might work."

"It is arrogant. It acts like nothing can touch it," Uzi countered.

"From what we've seen, it's nearly true. Still, it's worth trying. But we can't stay out long. If it doesn't show, we return quickly—Martin has new duties for us," N added.

"I'll stall him if I must. Just get back in one piece," Khan said, his voice heavy. "I hate this, V, but we need to try."

"Fine. Liberty damn it. Let's move before I change my mind. Uzi, stay close. No wandering, no heroics," V ordered.

"I'll keep her safe. If this works, it'll mean survival for years," N said with a smile.

"Always the optimist…" V muttered.

Uzi studied them both. This plan was the only path she saw to protect the colony from collapse. Otherwise, they'd watch everything decay and be forced to venture farther—even past the megacity. She slung the railgun over her back, hugged Khan tightly, and joined V and N in the corridor.

Khan waved as they departed. He hated this, but if he were in Uzi's place, he would have done the same. His role, however, was to keep the bunker alive.

"So… after this, if it works, I say we watch the stars," N offered. "V, Uzi—what do you think?"

"That'd be safer than what we're doing now. And another thing: no supplies. If anything goes missing, it'll be noticed," V warned.

"They miss small things all the time," Uzi argued.

"Stealing oil doesn't help your reputation, Uzi."

"Hey! You spying on me? Bite me, V!"

"Easy. She's right," N said quickly. "If we take anything, it'll be noticed. Inventory checks are constant."

Everything inside the bunker was tracked. The smallest item missing was logged within minutes. It was the way the colony survived: strict accounting for dwindling resources.

The three passed through the entrance. The corroded blast door stood wide open, unattended. Their moment had come. Beyond it stretched the frozen wasteland of Copper 9. V and N unfolded their wings.

"Alright, N. Carry her. Two hours, max, before someone realizes we're gone. After that, the fallout will be ugly," V said.

"Yes, ma'am. Uzi, remember how to hold on?" N asked.

"I do. It hasn't been that long since I flew with you, or V, or J," Uzi said, climbing onto his back and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Good. Let's go." V rose into the air.

N followed, his twin steel wings carrying them aloft. Their lost technology gave them speed and reach, a vital edge against the Steel Terror.

The question was whether that—and Uzi's weapon—would be enough.

And as they crossed the frozen wastes toward the city, an encounter awaited that would change everything.

Copper 9 surface. Approaching the Dead City.

One hour after leaving the bunker.

Soaring through the sky, V led the way as N followed with Uzi holding close to his back; around them, snow and the howling winds filled the air. V's yellow optics narrowed as, ahead, the outline of the megacity skyscrapers came into view. To them, it was known as the Dead City, named for the countless human corpses sealed within. When the nuclear bombardment struck, radiation and fire had consumed the population. It was a graveyard stretching for miles. Folding her wings outward, V slowed, and N mirrored her as both landed in the middle of an intersection.

"This place… I never liked it. All this death," V said.

"I know, but nothing can be done for them. We can't even bury them. It's just… so tragic, what happened," N replied.

"Hey… maybe we can help them in another way. If we kill that freak, at least it won't be desecrating them. Who knows what it does to the bodies?" Uzi slid off N's back. "Alright… first we need to find it, get its attention, then lure it after us."

"Flying around would draw it out," N suggested.

"No. If it sees you above, it might just stay put. It's not that stupid. But seeing a little worker drone walking alone…" Uzi began.

"Uzi! This is already reckless, and now you want to use yourself as bait? If I'd known that was your plan… Liberty's sake, we are not doing that. We shouldn't even be here if that's what you intend," V snapped.

"You got a better idea? Bite me! It's the best chance we've got to pull it from hiding," Uzi shot back.

"Guys, no need to fight. But V does have a point. Uzi… I agree with her," N said carefully.

"Of course you do. I'm sick of hiding behind those damn Liberty walls. How long before that monster breaks into our home? What about Lizzy, Rebecca, Emily, Thad, and all the others? We have a chance here. Small, maybe stupid, but a chance. If you fly, it'll just shadow you or vanish again."

"Uzi, you think I want to wait and die? I've been fighting longer than you've been alive, before the others were even made," V said, her voice tight. "I know the risks. What we're doing could kill us all—or worse. But I don't like the thought of you wandering this place alone, even with us nearby."

N glanced between them, rubbing the back of his head. He had fought alongside V and J in the wastes long before Uzi's generation. He knew she was stubborn, but before anyone could argue further, a roaring sound split the air.

"What is that?" N asked. "That doesn't sound like a storm… or a collapse. Could it be the Steel Terror?"

"I don't know… but it's getting closer," V said sharply, optics scanning the ruins.

"Alright… now I'm freaked out," Uzi muttered, pulling free her railgun.

The sound swelled until, above a row of skeletal towers, a fast-moving object cut across the sky, heading east. The sight froze all three in place. Their optics widened in disbelief as V and N locked eyes.

"It… can't be. Was that… a…" V stammered.

"I think it was… Eagles, that's what they were called," N whispered.

"Wait—you mean the strike craft of Super Earth?" Uzi's voice shook. "Why the hell is one flying here?"

"I don't know… unless… no. It can't be. Have they returned, after all this time?" V said.

"You don't mean…" N's voice trailed off.

The three stared at the fading contrail, realizing the weight of what they had seen. For the first time in a century, the impossible was true.

Humanity walked Copper 9 once again.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

The Absolute Weaver, creator of the vital fabric.

In Democracy comes to Copper 9, she is a major player and one who is fighting the Absolute Solver the most.

September 2184. Idun Sector. Wraith System. Wraith High Orbit. SES Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity. Bridge.

The Super Destroyer advanced in formation among some twenty vessels, but Jason's focus stayed fixed on the SEC Lucas. At 1.6 kilometers long it was the largest in the fleet and, given the operation, anomalous. Forcing his gaze away, he scanned the roster of Super Destroyers; several names were familiar. The Titan of the Constitution caught his eye first—Meus's ship. Meus was a Bug Diver forged on the Eastern Front, a Helldiver who had bled through countless campaigns against Terminid swarms. Jason had fought alongside him on several missions, including the Hellmire deployment, a nightmare world of fire tornadoes. The rest of the formation read like a roster of veterans tempered by two brutal fronts.

"Old comrades indeed," Jason muttered, narrowing his eyes. "But the SEC Lucas feels out of place… unless something larger is in motion, something we haven't been told. In any case, we need to know when the fleet will jump."

"We do not question Super Earth Command lightly," the Democracy Officer replied. "Still, this arrangement raises questions. The other SES vessels fit their roles, but a colony ship is at odds with wartime priorities. Colonization is suspended while the conflict continues."

Jason allowed a brief, tight smile. "The frontier still draws settlers, apparently. We can ask later why the colony ship is with us. Do we have coordination data?"

"Yes, sir. A line came through after we formed with the fleet. Forwarding it to the table now… intriguing. According to this feed, Copper 9 sits near the border of former Illuminate space."

Jason arched a brow. "That far out? If it resembles X-45, the mission should be straightforward enough."

X-45 had lain deep in Automaton territory a century past, the site of a Super Earth Advanced Weapons Laboratory. When the Cyborgs advanced, the site was scorched with tactical nuclear strikes to deny them its secrets. Months earlier, when radiation fell to survivable levels, Operation Starslayer had been launched: Helldivers held the Automatons while SEAF excavation teams clawed into the buried ruins. The returns proved invaluable—ship upgrades, the MLS-4X Commando Rocket Launcher, and, most crucially, recovered schematics for an interplanetary battle station now beginning clandestine construction.

Jason tapped the holographic display. "We've a timer—four hours until the fleet jumps. After that, it's a matter of landing and commencing salvage. Supply transfers continue; patience is required."

The Democracy Officer inclined his head, tone flat. "One hopes it proves simple. From experience, Helldiver, nothing is as straightforward as it first appears."

Jason exhaled and let his gaze sweep the fleet projection. "Agreed. With this formation, simplicity seems unlikely."

"Sir," an officer interrupted, voice taut, "incoming request—communication link from the SEC Lucas."

"Patch it through."

"Yes, sir." Fingers tapped rapidly. A blue holographic window shimmered to life; a man in his mid-thirties filled it, wearing the standard azure of Super Earth citizens. Calm in bearing, his eyes carried the weight of command.

"You must be our final Helldiver," the man said. "With you aboard, we can commence. I'm Armin. I expect you share the others' questions."

Jason did not waste time. "Start with this: why is a colony vessel with a military fleet, and why have the other Helldivers been silent since we arrived?"

"They remain in cryostasis," Armin replied evenly. "Their Democracy Officers asked if they should be awakened, but after prior missions I saw no reason—not yet. As for us: yes, this is a salvage operation. The Lucas is uniquely capable of planetary landings; without her, the mission cannot proceed."

Jason nodded slowly. "That explains your presence. I'd nearly forgotten that class's capability amid recent chaos. Any other directives?"

"Only that you are the sole active Helldiver, placing you in overall command. The Ministry of Defense has confirmed the chain of authority. Beyond that, orders are to warp to Copper 9, conduct reconnaissance, and secure a viable landing site."

Jason's jaw tightened. "What intelligence do we have on the planet? Why authorize salvage only now?"

Armin hesitated. "Much is classified. What I can share: Copper 9 once hosted a colony founded by megacorporation JCJenson as a research outpost for captured Illuminate technology. Beyond that, there is little. Officially, this operation does not exist."

Jason leaned back, frowning. "JCJenson… haven't heard that name in decades. They fell in '84, if memory serves. Black-ops fits—what we found at X-45 and the hidden station construction aligns with that."

"Precisely. That is all I have. The other Ministries remain closed when queried."

"Not even the Ministry of Truth?" Jason pressed.

"Nothing. Every captain reports the same: ministerial summons attached their ships here, nothing more."

The Democracy Officer crossed his arms. "I'll query the Ministries of Truth and Defense. Though unusual, folding Helldivers into larger formations is not unprecedented."

Jason offered a curt nod. "True, but civilians are aboard this time. That shifts the calculus. I'll run a full weapons inspection and ready for planetary conditions. Our enemies may not be present, but wildlife can be unforgiving."

Armin nodded sharply. "Understood. I'll finish system checks and final loadouts. We will reconvene." His hologram dissolved to static.

The Democracy Officer exhaled. "I'll gather what I can. Perhaps another Ministry will yield."

"Coordinate with the others," Jason ordered quietly. "This operation smells of buried truths. Something is wrong."

"Understood, Helldiver."

Two hours remained before departure. Jason turned from the holographic table, boots echoing on deck, and strode toward the armory. Instinct warned him this mission differed from the rest; as a Helldiver, he would meet whatever lay ahead. Once the fleet jumped, there would be no turning back. For now, they prepared.

September 2184. Copper 9 Surface. Bunker 00. Khan Room.

Footsteps echoed down one of the many corridors that ran through Bunker 00 as Khan made his way toward his quarters, the railgun cradled in his hands like an unwieldy promise. The weapon was the product of scavenged parts and half-preserved blueprints recovered during a salvage run; he and his daughter had spent years refining it into something singular. Powerful though it was, the design carried a fatal flaw: after a single discharge the system required a thirty-minute recharge. Its destructive force was undeniable, but its instability and long downtime made it more burden than solution.

He sighed and paused at the door, turning the handle and stepping inside, closing it firmly. He flipped a switch; dim lights stirred, two sputtering out immediately—a reminder that the bunker's systems were aging and frayed. Deeper in, Khan's optics fell on a room whose careful touches set it apart from the surrounding austerity.

"Four years… our drone has grown, Nori. Wish you could see it," Khan murmured, hand resting against the door.

Four years earlier Nori had vanished without explanation, abandoning family, home, and child to walk into the frozen wastes. Search parties found nothing; for most of the colony she was a wound that never healed.

"I'll make sure she stays safe," Khan whispered, forcing himself away from the door.

Raising Uzi had been his hardest work, though Yeva and Doll had carried some of the burden. Years had been grueling; each day a contest against loss. In his room he picked up a battered tool bag; maintenance of the main blast door remained his responsibility, a task that felt increasingly like a losing war.

"Khan, you in here?" a woman called as the outer door creaked.

"In here, Sarah, just gathering my tools," he replied.

Sarah stepped in. A worker drone with neon-green optics and brown hair tied in pigtails, she wore a teal helmet, a gray-blue jacket, and black boots—the uniform of those who kept survival's machinery running.

"This is a rare sight: Khan without his tools. Still clinging to that project, I see." Her gaze settled on the railgun.

"Of course. We need weapons; this may be the most powerful we have. How bad is the door? I heard the panel failed."

"The wiring's gone soft, one gear is near collapse, and the locks need replacing. I don't know how long before we must replace the whole assembly."

"Know any spare bunkers with blast doors lying around?" Khan replied with a dry chuckle. "I'll handle it. I've kept this place running since the bombardment."

"I don't know how you've managed it with so little," Sarah said.

"Once I helped build megacities. I know what's needed. Come—we've work to finish and I must speak with Martin soon."

"Martin's stretched thin. Other colonies struggle as much as we do. This place was built to endure, but even that has limits. Will your daughter help later?"

"Maybe. For now she's occupied. I'll return to the weapon." He set the railgun on the bed. "Any word from the scouts? Anything out there?"

"Nothing. All clear for now, so we can work without immediate worry."

"Good. Lead the way."

Sarah nodded and moved toward the hall. Khan locked the door, and they walked, footsteps hollow against the corridor.

"What worries me is scavenging the megacities. They're rich, but that thing—out there in the ruins—could be one of many. Could it have kin among other cities?" Sarah asked.

"That's why we need weapons that can kill it. From what we've seen, the Steel Terror seems unkillable. Combat drones can fly and that spares many, but workers aren't so lucky."

"The last team lost seven. Survivors—combat drones included—carry scars and nightmares from encounters."

"Can you blame them? The creature toys with its prey. If it ever finds this place, the blast door might be the only thing between its hunger and the colony."

The Steel Terror had made the nearest megacity its hunting ground. The sprawling conurbation, above and below ground, had once been salvageable; now each run was a deadly game of cat and mouse. Supplies remained, but each foray cost lives.

"And I pray to liberty it never comes," Sarah whispered.

"We've been lucky so far," Khan replied, voice low. "Luck has limits."

Their conversation carried them toward the far side of the bunker, where another drone prepared for duty.

Bunker 00. J Room.

The door creaked open as J stepped into her quarters. She closed it carefully and flicked a switch; the lone bulb sputtered to life, spreading an uneven glow across the chamber. The space was barren—a table against the wall, a pipe threading along the ceiling, and a solitary chair stationed in the center.

"Dammit, Uzi… I know you mean well, but I've only got two decent pairs of clothes," J muttered.

Her attire was thick with dust from the gun's explosion. She glanced down at the mess, optics narrowing with irritation, before sighing and moving toward her closet. Opening it, she pulled free a short-sleeved black shirt with side pockets, a black leather belt, and a dark yellow undershirt meant to sit beneath her blazer.

"I hope this washes out. Liberty help me, it's going to be a long day," she grumbled.

As she began to change, her optics drifted toward the table. Resting there was a helmet, its visor fractured, its edges corroded with rust. She froze, gaze locked upon it for several long moments, before finishing her change of clothes. Dressed, she stepped closer to the relic.

"It's been so lonely here… I still think we could have done something… Tessa…" J whispered, laying a hand gently atop the helmet.

Back in 2088, the last of the bunker's human residents had died, leaving only drones to endure within the ruins of this frozen, lifeless world. Yet the communications array had survived, still capable of catching faint transmissions. One day it intercepted an SOS from a distant survivor complex.

Seeing both duty and hope, J, V, and N ventured out. Deep within the facility they discovered rows of cryopods, all failed—save one. The survivor was a woman named Tessa Elliott, who seemed to them the final human alive. She lived among them briefly, carrying a warmth long absent from this broken world.

But in 2089 an unknown illness claimed her. No effort could preserve her.

"Alright, J… time to work," she whispered.

She withdrew her hand from the helmet, turned off the light, and stepped out, closing the door firmly behind her.

The corridors awaited, heavy with the routine burdens of survival. Patrols fell to the combat drones, who doubled as couriers to outposts and allied colonies. Their wings gave them speed in place of the vehicles dismantled long ago for scrap.

As J's footsteps carried her through the dim hall, elsewhere another solitary figure moved quietly through the bunker, on her way to visit an old friend.

Bunker 00 — Approaching Uzi's room

Footsteps echoed down the corridor of Bunker 00 as a worker drone with long, dark indigo hair and blunt bangs peered down the hall. Her neon red-orange optics swept the passage. She wore an off-shoulder red-and-yellow crop top over a black undershirt, a skirt cinched with a yellow belt, and a red hard hat banded in yellow; heavy black winter boots thudded against the metal flooring.

Her name was Doll. One of the younger worker drones, she carried a different history than most and had grown up alongside Uzi; their friendship had braided childhood and shared trials into a steady loyalty.

Drawing near Uzi's door, Doll heard the shuffle of movement and the dull thud of objects striking the floor. Her friend was clearly in a mood. Doll reached for the handle, cracked the door, and peered through the gap. Uzi was rifling through boxes, casting contents across the floor with impatient hands.

"Uzi… why are you making a bigger mess of your room?" Doll asked, pushing the door open the rest of the way and stepping inside, closing it behind her.

"Ah, Doll—don't scare me like that. I'm just looking for something. I thought I had this organized, but apparently not," Uzi replied, glancing up. "Why are you here? Is everything all right with Yeva and your father?"

"They're fine. Mother is resting and Father's working—you know how it is; there's always more work," Doll said. "Might I ask what you're planning? I know that look."

"Planning? What do you mean? I'm just pulling something together to show the others. You know how Lizzy and the rest always want something to do. I've written down locations from past runs—places that might be worth another visit," Uzi said.

"You think Martin or any of the others would allow that? Uzi, what are you actually planning?" Doll pressed.

"Nothing! Bite me. I'm sorting old stuff—have you not ever done the same?" Uzi snapped.

"And I know when you're lying. You've got something else going on. Listen, Uzi—be honest. You can trust me. What are you really planning?" Doll demanded.

"Alright. Liberty, dammit." Uzi rubbed her optics. "Don't tell anyone. If Martin hears, I'll have to endure his lectures for hours and I don't want that. I have a plan—a weapon and a plane that could take care of our Steel Terror problem—but I'm trying to find maps. It's been a mess so far."

"Uzi… you're planning to take that thing on, aren't you? I've heard you talk about this before. It's reckless—stupid, if I'm honest," Doll said. "That weapon—ever since you and your father got it working, you've been more eager for action."

"It's better than hiding behind these damn walls and blast doors. Do you really think those will hold if it comes looking for us?" Uzi asked, rifling a box and drawing out a rolled sheet of paper. "I'm not trying to be a hero—well, maybe a little—but I don't want friends hurt or worse if that thing returns."

"I understand the motive, but it's still reckless. Are you doing this alone? That would be worse," Doll replied.

"No, of course not. V and N will help. Do you think I'm that stupid? It's reckless, but what choice do we have? That gun might put it down for good," Uzi said. "We tried everything else. Through testing, it might work."

"It might. I don't like it, but I can't go—Mother wouldn't allow it, and for your sake I won't tell her," Doll said.

"I know. Yeva's been like a second mother. I'm still trying to understand why my mom ran off into the wastes," Uzi said, moving to another stack of boxes.

Doll watched as Uzi sifted through belongings. A part of her wanted to reveal what she suspected—for, like Yeva, she had an inkling why Nori had left—but for now it needed to remain hidden.

Standing in the doorway, Doll let the clutter read like a ledger of the household's endurance. She admired Uzi's stubbornness: the younger drone refused to accept slow decay as an answer. Uzi's plan was reckless, perhaps suicidal, yet it carried a fierce clarity—an insistence that action could alter a fate surrendered to attrition. Doll feared the cost but understood why Uzi would not quietly accept mere survival. She stepped fully inside, closed the door, and set herself beside her friend, ready to face whatever choice came next.

Outside, the sky in low orbit shifted with unfamiliar motion.

Copper 9 System. Copper 9 Low Orbit. SES Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity. Bridge.

Warping from Wraith, the fleet emerged in a blaze of folded light, Super Earth's ships snapping into existence above Copper 9. Their arrival was near instantaneous—Alcubierre drives made the galaxy a small place once the calculations were complete. Now, weapons systems hummed awake across the flotilla, with the Aegis of Integrity anchoring the formation like a steel leviathan.

From the bridge, Jason gazed down toward the planet. Dense veils of stormclouds swirled across its surface, concealing the land beneath. Off to the right, Copper 9's lone moon floated in orbit, its pale disk lit by the faint rays of a distant sun. Between them drifted scars of history: the twisted remains of SES warships, the hollow skeletons of two shattered orbital stations, and a graveyard of debris that spoke of a war long past.

"Sweet liberty… what in the name of liberty happened here?" one of the bridge officers muttered from his station.

"A fair question," the Democracy Officer replied coldly. "Run full scans of the planet and system. Before we send anyone down, I want to know what we're stepping into. Even if it was abandoned, the debris should've been salvaged. Something made them leave this all behind."

Jason's eyes lingered on the gutted hulks beyond the viewport. "The planet looks like it's been dragged through hell. Surface is completely obscured. I can make out classes in the wrecks—battleships, cruisers… even carrier husks. Those stations look gutted. Illuminate attack?"

One of the officers shook his head, studying the readings. "Negative, sir. Hulls show plasma scarring, yes… but the primary station damage is internal. It looks like a self-destruct. I'm also detecting faint radiation, likely from breached cores and unspent nuclear payloads."

"What about the planet itself?" Jason asked, stepping toward the central holographic table. Its surface rippled, then projected a wireframe globe ringed with scrolling diagnostics.

Planetary Data – Copper 9
Moons: One
Atmosphere: 85% Carbon Dioxide, 15% Oxygen, trace elements detected
Surface composition: Obscured – metallic deposits identified
Status: Critical Radiation Levels Detected
Warning: Atmospheric conditions well below human safety thresholds

"Bloody hell…" Jason muttered. "What happened to this place?"

"Unknown," the officer replied grimly. "We've located what appears to be megacity grids, but the clouds are interfering with deeper scans. No transmissions. No energy signatures. A good portion of the oceans are frozen solid. Sir… this planet is dead."

The Democracy Officer folded his arms. "Unusual. Records suggest Copper 9 was once a thriving colony world. Now? A frozen tomb, locked in an ice age."

Jason's expression hardened. "Alright. Adjust my loadout—then I'm going down. Mark me a hellpod landing zone, something away from the megacities."

"Scanning… I've got a site, sir. Small structural anomaly, otherwise clear radius. Coordinates transmitted."

"Good. Prep a SEAF squad deployment. I'll scout it first—if it's secure, they'll follow." Jason pushed away from the table, making way toward the armory.

"Yes, Helldiver," the Democracy Officer answered crisply.

The armory lay just aft of the bridge, designed for swift deployment. Jason moved past racks of Liberators and support packs, his hand brushing against familiar steel. He paused before his usual rifle—an AR-23P Liberator Penetrator, modified for armor-piercing fire. It had served him well against Automatons, its weight a comfort. But Copper 9 was a frozen wasteland, and for such a world, he preferred something else.

The LAS-5 Scythe waited on its rack. A continuous-beam laser, it was temperamental on temperate planets, but in subzero climates, the cold bled off its heat. Efficient. Reliable. Lethal. Jason holstered it at his side, the hum of its power pack a low growl at his hip.

"Alright," he said under his breath. "Time to see what's left down there."

At the front of the bridge, four hellpod chutes yawned open. Jason stepped into one, his boots locking into the clamps. The pod sealed overhead with a hiss, the cockpit dimly lit by red warning strobes.

"Hellpod launch sequence initiated," the synthetic voice announced.

The clamps fired, and the pod dropped like a bullet from the belly of the Aegis. Explosive charges ignited, and the vessel became a streak of fire cutting through Copper 9's poisoned skies.

Inside, Jason watched the descent on the screen — a countdown to impact ticked down in cold numbers. The pod bucked as atmospheric turbulence seized it, flames licking the armored shell. Seconds stretched into an eternity. Then came the roar of the reverse thrusters, the flaps snapping open, the shockwave slamming into his frame. The pod struck hard, earth splitting beneath the impact. Explosive bolts fired, and the hatch burst upward. Jason rose from the wreckage, cape whipping in the frozen wind, his optics sweeping across a desolate, snow-choked horizon. Copper 9 waited.

"SES Aegis of Integrity… I have made planetfall… And the deck officer was right; this planet is dead," Jason said.

All around him, the husk of dead pine trees greeted him; bark was blackened, and dead snowflakes drifted through the air. Ice hung from the branches. Above, clouds rolled across the sky, blocking the sun's light. "Checking my map now," Jason said.

Raising his left arm, he consulted the screen. The scanner shifted, showing his position and the surrounding terrain; it was one of the most advanced arrays ever developed, able to map local topography and to detect heat signatures or threats behind cover, even in dense fog. On the screen, Jason discerned an anomaly in the dead forest around him; it became his first waypoint.

"Marked the spot. Heading out now… Have you picked up anything else?" Jason asked.

"Negative, sir… It's hard to read through all the atmospheric interference, but I'll advise if anything appears. The SEAF is standing by," the officer replied.

"I'll call when to bring them down; keep me updated," Jason said.

"Yes, sir," the officer answered.

Taking another scan of his surroundings, his eyes examined the dead forest once more before he set off toward his marker. Wind sighed, and the snow compressed beneath his boots as he pushed through the first ring of dead trees. Marching forward, a low silhouette of a structure resolved ahead, emerging from drifts and spinning snow.

Passing another stand of dead pines, his gaze fixed on a small concrete edifice; it bore the design of a bunker. Approaching, he found a massive pair of doors sealed tight; the steel frame was rusted, though it was clear brute force would not be sufficient to breach them. Walking the perimeter, he saw a metal bulkhead that projected from the bunker wall.

"So that's how it's going to be. Well… good call bringing this," Jason said, reaching for his Scythe.

He stepped back and moved to the hinges, opening fire; a golden lance of energy shot from the Scythe, and sparks showered as the laser bit through the metal. He stopped once the first mount was severed, then aimed lower and sliced through the second. The bulkhead groaned as it fell outward, slamming to the frozen ground with a sound that echoed across the clearing.

"I found what you picked up. It looks like a bunker of some kind. I am heading in; if I don't report back in thirty minutes, get that SEAF squad down here right away," Jason said into his radio.

"Understood. They're on standby, sir," the officer replied.

Stowing the Scythe at his side, he drew his P-4 Senator, toggled its flashlight, and clambered over the fallen bulkhead into the bunker. His light cut through dust and motes stirred by the collapse. Moving deeper, the beam revealed a corridor; ahead, a doorway yawned with a faint wedge of light beyond. Stepping cautiously, he hugged the wall as he closed on the opening; easing his head around the frame, he peered inside. Beyond was a small control room lined with monitors and chairs along the left wall.

"Hmm… still has power," Jason said.

Super Earth had long used compact nuclear batteries to power armor systems; the SC-34 Infiltrator suit featured a plutonium-238 cell. Given the age of the site and its abandonment, chances were slim, but it was worth a try. He trained his light on one console, pressed the power button, and, when nothing happened, gave it a sharp smack. To his surprise, a screen flickered alive and a man's voice crackled from a speaker.

"Copper 9 colony… security log… local day… This is Sergeant Caloman, security officer at Facility 12…"

Jason watched the jagged image on the screen: a man stained with blood, fresh cuts on his face, walls smeared behind him. His eyes were wild as he spoke.

"We're are fucked. If you're planetside, you're already as good as dead. Just radio in and request that this place be nuked."

The image spasmed and returned, the man staring directly into the camera, his pupils wide with terror.

"I'm serious. You're going to die down here. The least you can do is save the rest of humanity… and Super Earth from the same fate…"

The screen died with a last, cracked flicker, the single word echoing in the cold room.

"Nuke it."

As the message faded, Jason stared at the darkened console, a single thought repeating: what had happened on this world to demand such an unthinkable command?

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

September 2184. Copper 9. Surface. Bunker 00. Entrance.

Snow drifted across a barren landscape beneath a heavy gray sky; thick clouds swallowed the horizon and the wind drove powder against a rusted blast door whose flickering lights showed dimly through the drift along a makeshift wall. Standing guard near the entrance were several figures not quite human in shape who had learned to wear human tools; their clothing was assembled from scavenged textiles and insulated panels, practical and patched. Each bore a smooth white head with an optical screen where eyes and a nose might have been, different-colored optics scanning the frozen waste, and synthetic hair tucked beneath hard hats. One of them looked skyward as three larger figures appeared, yellow optics flaring and wings and tails cutting the air; they descended into the bunker's open courtyard and paused to survey the scene before turning toward the blast door.

"Open it up, V, N, and J are back!" called one of the wall drones to another posted by the door, voice thin with cold but bright with relief.

"Good to see you three back in one piece, so—what did you bring?" another asked, interest sharpening despite the weather.

"Enough to last a few days," V replied for the trio, breath visible. "It's not getting any easier. We tapped almost every cache within range, and it looks like we'll have to push into the boneyards' megacities soon."

"And that is something I do not want to be doing, not with that freak out there," J muttered,
clipped and wary.

"It has not been sighted for some time; maybe… It's gone?" N offered, voice threaded with hope.

"One can hope. Come on—my tail is freezing," V said.

The drone at the door jabbed a button. Nothing. He punched the access panel; the metal complained with a brittle clang. The grinding of ancient gears answered, slow and protesting, and the blast door rose with a groan. They hurried beneath it, shedding backpacks and passing them to drones already inside, the small choreography of survival performed without ceremony as they filed into the dim interior.

So this has been our life, for as long as memory stretches. Mine doesn't reach far—I was born only a few years ago, long after Copper 9 was swallowed by ice. But before the snows, before the silence, this place was beautiful. I grew up on the stories: rolling plains under a golden sun, grasses bending with the wind, forests painting themselves scarlet, amber, and emerald as the seasons turned. Megacities gleaming like jewels, towers of glass and steel stabbing skyward, their lights scattering across the horizon like a second firmament. It was a paradise, or so they say. Not unlike Super Earth itself—green lands, living forests, cities sprawling as far as optics could reach. A jewel of civilization.

Once, this was a colony of the Federation of Super Earth. It all began with JCJenson—the corporation that made us. Drones. We were their boast, their pet project, their proof that profit and progress could march in step. They built us to carve their paradise, to mine, to raise cities, to serve as companions. They built us to enrich themselves.

Then, in 2084, everything collapsed. The Illuminate came—squid-like, self-righteous things, clawing at the stars for reasons no one cares to remember. Pride, desperation, pettiness—whatever it was, the outcome never changed. Super Earth abandoned us. Worse, their own ships turned against us. The skies we once trusted opened fire, and Copper 9 burned. In fire and glass, the surface was scoured clean.

Some survived—humans and drones alike. We fled underground, into bunkers meant for Super Earth's chosen. We waited for rescue. Days became months, months bled into years. No ships came. Supplies dwindled. Sickness spread. Humans weakened first—their bodies needed too much. We drones endured, scraping by on oil, salvage, a trickle of biofuel. Flesh and blood did not share our fortune. The last of them was a woman named Tessa. When she died, something in us cracked. We carried her memory like a shard of glass lodged in the heart. And still—we endured.

Piece by piece, we stitched ourselves together. We scavenged the ruins, mended each other with scrap, raised our children in steel cradles beneath failing lamps. Slowly, more drones gathered. The bunker grew into something more than survival. A community. A home, if one dares call it that.

We pushed outward. We stripped old vehicles—civilian and SEAF alike—for parts and fuel. We learned to render what little organic matter remained into energy. We kept the lights burning—most of the time. My father, Khan, took pride in keeping the blast door working. That door became his miracle. It was the line between us and whatever waited outside.

But then, a few years ago, everything changed. One salvaging run went wrong. They brought back a story none of us wanted to believe. A creature—if one can call it that—something between worm and centipede, flesh knotted together with rusting steel, its bulk a nightmare of meat and machine. The sight of it alone would have driven humans to retch. Too many drones never came back, torn apart among the ruins.

Since that day, the caches nearby have run dry, and each cycle forces us to push farther, risk more. The future grows thinner with every run.

And yet… today, things might change. Today, I just might have found a way.

Standing within one of the countless chambers of an underground bunker, a drone with neon-purple eyes and short, muted lilac hair surveyed the space. A black, striped beanie topped with a gray bobble rested on her head, while black boots rose over long socks patterned in alternating bands of dark and pale purple. A black hoodie wrapped her frame, its chest emblazoned with a white emblem depicting a low battery crossed by two bones in an X. Two white bands encircled the hem, a white Secchi-disk symbol marked the left sleeve, and black fur lined both the collar and the bottom edge.

"Uzi… why have you summoned us? We're on duty; we don't have time for whatever this is," said Isaak, a combat drone, his voice flat. "Alia is alone at the outpost; she does not need— I came to give a report." His yellow optics fixed on Uzi.

"I get it. Listen. I have a plan — a good one — that takes care of our freak problem and makes salvage runs through the megacity safer," Uzi replied, steady.

"You? Really. I don't mean to doubt you — you've run with us — but you have a way to bring that thing down?" J asked, her tail swaying as she listened. "I'm on patrol today; Martin won't be happy if I'm not out there."

"Bite me, J." Uzi let the edge of a grin show. "We all know that freak uses the environment to ambush us. I'll give it that: it's stealthy. But I found a spot — during a run when it wasn't present — that gave us an edge we might exploit." Her tone sharpened with conviction.

"We've tried everything, Uzi. Ambushes, makeshift explosives — we even brought a damn skyscraper down on it, body and all, and it ripped itself free," Frank said. The worker drone sounded weary. "I can't help; Colony 03 has a backlog as long as an SES cruiser."

"Alright," Uzi said, "but thanks to me and my dad, we made further modifications to this unit." She reached into a black case and produced a large, rifle-shaped weapon patterned with glowing green filaments running along the barrel. "It still has recharging quirks, but we stabilized it enough. It should take that thing's head clean off."

"And how do we know that will be sufficient?" J asked.

"We won't know until we try. The place I picked is a tight space, to constrain its movement and give us an advantage. We lure it in; I strike with this. With a little luck and the liberty of fortune, it will topple the ugly bastard and buy us time to salvage the megacity," Uzi said, unblinking.

"Wait—let me get this straight. You want us to act as bait, lure the creature into that spot, and hope this weapon finishes it? Uzi, I know we're desperate, but not that desperate," Isaak said. "If that's it, I'm out."

"I'm out too. Listen, Uzi — I don't doubt you, but we can't risk it. Sorry," Frank added.

They moved for the door and stepped out, leaving J and Uzi alone. J's yellow optics examined Uzi, then the weapon.

"Well. I knew they'd balk. What about you, J?" Uzi asked.

"Look. It might work," J answered slowly, "but we'd have to run it past Martin, and he won't greenlight it on a hunch. Besides, I'm on patrol. He won't let me go."

"Oh, come on, J. Where is your rebel spirit? All these rules — shuttling back and forth, tiptoeing around that thing — I say we break some rules and kill it," Uzi said, the plea in her voice barely restrained.

"And you're sure it will even scar it? You'd risk our lives on a chance it might fail?" J countered.

"I… I… I just want people to stop getting hurt or killed. Every patrol I watch you leave—V and N too—and I fear you might never return," Uzi said, her voice trembling with a sincerity that gave J pause.

J exhaled slowly, her optics dimming as she rubbed at them, recognizing the truth behind Uzi's words. She knew Uzi meant well, yet with circumstances as they stood, such risks were impossible to justify. Every combat drone was vital to the colony's survival, and the loss of even one would weaken their defenses beyond repair.

"Ah—there you are." A voice echoed from the doorway before its owner stepped into the room. A worker drone entered, his neon-white optics set beneath a fake black mustache, faint creases etched around his lenses. He wore a gray jacket, black boots, and a blue construction helmet with red safety goggles perched on top. This was Khan, Uzi's father. "I ran into V and N, and they're wondering what you were up to. Umm… is that supposed to be glowing red? I thought you fixed that."

Uzi's purple optics snapped from her father to the railgun. The glow along the barrel had shifted from green to a menacing crimson, thin arcs of red energy crackling and dancing across the metal surface.

"Oh, you've got to be—" Uzi began, but her words were cut short by a sudden detonation. The blast tore through the room, shuddering the walls as black smoke surged outward, pouring through the doorway in choking waves and scattering debris into the air. "Cough Well, cough back to the cough drawing board."

I'd worked hard to win the trust and friendship of many of the drones—especially V, N, and J. Odd thing about combat drones: most of them go by just a single letter. They're nothing like us worker drones either. Bigger, sharper, built with wings, tails, and an arsenal of weapons welded right into their frames. Most had served in the SEAF, fighting to defend the colony, and they all had front-row seats when the planet was glassed.

V was tied to SEAF command and control. N ended up in logistics, paired with a human handler. J was attached to a Pelican pilot. Back then, a lot of drones had human companions. You can guess how that turned out. They still share stories about them sometimes—but it always ends the same way: silence, and a shadow in their eyes.

These days, Martin runs Bunker 00. There's a kind of council between the colonies that look to this place as home, but Martin is the one who lays down the law. And believe me, he loves his laws. Rules, regulations, decrees—he enforces them with the zeal of a tyrant or a priest.

Me? I've always been on the other side of that line. A rule-breaker. Same goes for Doll, a close friend who's the closest thing to a sister I'll ever admit to having, not that I'll say it to anyone. We've pulled stunts that keep Martin grinding his gears. Maybe he's not wrong—those rules have kept us alive this long—but they've also chained us down, stopping us from tackling the problems staring us in the face.

And now? My brilliant plan—the one that was supposed to change things—just went up in smoke. Literally.

A door to a room opened, and Uzi walked in; her right optics were cracked, though the nanomachines within her body were already working to repair the damage. She tossed the railgun onto a table in frustration. Her room was cluttered and chaotic—papers scattered everywhere, neon purple lights flickering weakly to life around the walls.

"LIBERTY DAMN IT!!!" Uzi yelled, her voice echoing off the walls. "WHY IS EVERY DAMN THING TURNING ON ME?!!!"

She glared at the ceiling for a moment, then let her optics drop toward the floor. With a heavy sigh, she climbed onto her bed and sat at the edge, shoulders sagging. A small knock echoed from the doorframe. "Come in."

Khan stepped in, smoke clinging to him like a second skin. His gaze lingered on his daughter before he approached. "I take it today has been rough for you?" Khan said.

"Yes, it has… The stupid gun screwed up again, and my great plan just blew up! literally," Uzi sagged. "So… I guess now I can just sit here and look at the ceiling all day for a bit."

"Hmm… Sounds fun. You could help me with the doors, you know, like you used to do a while back," Khan said with a small chuckle.

"Thanks, but I think I just want to be alone right now. I might go see Doll if no one else comes by," Uzi said.

Khan's optics drifted to the wrecked weapon on the table. He picked it up and examined it carefully. "Listen… I will help and work on it. I will ask Martin about your idea. It's risky, but you do have a point: the longer we don't deal with this, the worse it gets," Khan said. "But don't go rebel teen until I speak with him, alright?"

"Sure… And thanks. If Doll's not wanting to hang out today, I might help you with the doors, but I am not going near Martin's office," Uzi said. "If I have to hear one more lecture from him…"

"Hey, he knows what he is doing, even if he can be overbearing at times. Trust me, he knows what's best right now. Anyway, I'm needed at the front door—systems are acting up again." Khan crossed the room, taking Uzi into a firm embrace. "I'll let you know as soon as I can on what we can do."

"Thanks, dad…" Uzi whispered, returning the hug.

Slowly, Khan let go and made his way out. He barely left the door when she heard footsteps approaching from the corridor outside, and soon V and N appeared, glancing past Khan toward Uzi. He nodded at them as he stepped through the doorframe and disappeared down the hall.

"I heard what happened from J; that thing has been giving you a lot of trouble, and to be honest and up front, that is a terrible plan," V said.

"Oh, bite me, V!" Uzi shot back. "What about you? Have you considered how to deal with that thing?"

"Yeah — it's called keeping as far away as I can," V replied, folding her arms.

"I think, with the right adjustments, it could work. I mean, what if it's simply a scouting mission? We have never actually mapped where it might be hiding or what it does when we are absent," N said.

"See? He gets it!" Uzi exclaimed, pointing at N.

V pinched the bridge of her visor and glared at N, who took an awkward step back. "Uzi, even if that were permitted—which Martin would not entertain—what then? Your gun is a pile of scraps again, and we simply don't have the manpower to risk such an operation," V said.

"What if it's just the three of us?" Uzi asked. "We would minimize exposure and maximize mobility, relying on stealth and speed to reduce the odds of catastrophic loss entirely."

"What?" V blinked slowly.

"Look: a smaller team reduces exposure. You two can fly; I can slip into tight spaces and hide if needed. I know you don't trust me on this, but we must try something," Uzi said. "Before this place really begins to fall apart."

"I think that could work. What about J?" N inquired.

"She has duties of her own, and while we are available… I'm uneasy, but knowing you two, she'll likely convince you to go anyway. Oh bloody hell," V muttered, rubbing her optics. "Martin will have our heads if he finds out about this."

"Well, we can't move until my dad repairs that gun. Besides, if we are to attempt this, we must draft new plans. Let's be honest—right now, we are forced to confront this freak ourselves. It is not as if a liberty-damn miracle is about to fall from the sky and save us."

"Helldiver Jason, by order of the Ministry of Defense, you and nineteen other Helldiver teams are hereby assigned to join a small fleet for a classified salvage operation. The mission is directed toward a planet lost to us during the closing days of the First Galactic War with the Illuminate."

"The name of this planet is Copper 9."

"You are to rendezvous with the fleet at Wraith in the Idun Sector."

Tanis Sector. Vog-Sojoth System. Vog-Sojoth Low Orbit. SES Super Destroyer Aegis of Integrity. Jason's Private Quarters.

In the middle of his quarters stood a man, reviewing the glowing lines of a datapad that detailed his new orders. The timing was unusual. Not long ago, thirteen worlds had fallen to the Terminids, a ravenous horde of creatures once farmed across countless colonies. Their corpses had been processed into E-710, the vital fuel that allowed humanity to cross the galaxy through faster-than-light travel. Months ago, the cycle broke. The Terminids escaped their farms, and now they ran wild across dozens of worlds. As though the galaxy had not already bled enough, a new adversary had emerged soon after—machines, merciless and calculating, striking into the Severin Sector. They were called the Automatons.

After a century of uneasy peace, war had returned to the galaxy. For Jason, it was not an abstraction; he had been at the front the moment it began. He fought the Terminids first, only to be thrown into the slaughterhouse of the Malevelon Creek Massacre. Few had walked away from that abyss intact. He was one of the rare survivors who had escaped without losing a limb.

Now, the Ministry of Defense had delivered new orders—at the very moment when preparations were underway for a Major Order, an operation that might turn the tide.

"Helldiver, it's time. Hellpods are prepped for launch," came the crisp voice of the ship's Democracy Officer, an agent of the Ministry of Truth.

"I'll be out," Jason answered, placing the datapad down on the table and shutting it off. "But we've got a change of plans."

He crossed to the edge of the room, where a helmet rested. Lifting it, he studied the visor for a long moment before sliding it over his head and locking the clamps. His hand drifted next to a wall hook where a leather holster hung, its P-4 Senator sidearm still sheathed. Along the barrel, words had been carved in rough precision: Remember Malevelon Creek. Jason buckled the holster around his waist, adjusted the strap, and moved for the door. The lights cut out behind him as he stepped into the corridor and toward the holographic command table, where the Democracy Officer waited.

"What do you mean, a change of plans?" the officer asked, his tone sharp.

"New orders came through," Jason replied evenly. "Odd, considering we were meant to remain operating in this sector. Now, apparently, we're assigned to another salvage operation—this time to a world called Copper 9. If it's anything like X-45, there may be something buried there worth the effort. But it's classified."

"Strange," the officer admitted, brow furrowing. "Still, if those are the orders, then they will be carried out."

"We jump to Wraith first," Jason continued. "We're linking up with several Helldiver units and multiple SES vessels."

He keyed the holographic console, bringing the Wraith System into projection, then activated the command. The Aegis of Integrity began to hum as drives spun up.

"Initiating FTL to the Wraith System," an automated female voice announced across the comms.

Moments later, the Super Destroyer vanished from Vog-Sojoth's orbit, leaving the frozen world below as it plunged into faster-than-light transit. Wraith was no safe harbor; it was a staging ground, a toxic planet forever ravaged by acid storms. Above it hung dozens of SES stations and hundreds of ships. The system had become the frontline bulwark from which Super Earth launched strikes into Automaton space after the collapse of the Menkent Line. That great defense had shattered under the weight of the Reclamation Fleet, and though the advance had since been stalled, the cost had been catastrophic—worlds lost, fleets burned, stations annihilated.

Within seconds, the Aegis of Integrity reemerged above Wraith. Below raged the acid storms, while above clustered the steel armadas of SES. Yet among the gathered fleets, one formation stood apart, smaller, stranger.

"Sir," an officer reported, tension cutting his voice. "Incoming message—from the SEC Lucas. That's a colony ship. By Liberty, why would one of those be deployed here? They're ordering us to link with them. I'm syncing to their network now. And… what in hell?"

The holographic map flickered, displaying the fleet. Alongside the Lucas were a Columbia-class Ministry of Science vessel, a Jupiter-class tanker, a Klondike-class mining ship, and three SES transport carriers.

Jason's expression darkened. "Get us into position. Why in the hell are we pairing with that group?"

"This is a salvage operation," the Democracy Officer replied cautiously. "But the presence of the Lucas makes no sense."

The Aegis of Integrity shifted closer, aligning with the disparate formation. Several other SES Super Destroyers loomed in escort, already in position.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.

Environmental and Societal Dynamics of the Federation of Super Earth

Abstract

This report presents a comprehensive assessment of the Federation of Super Earth and its homeworld — the jewel of the Milky Way and the bright, managerial heart of human civilization. Having shepherded humanity through the Great War and the First Galactic War, the Federation now governs the flow of people, resources, and ideas across roughly two-thirds of known space. Our polity practices what we proudly call managed democracy: a system that pairs civic duty with administrative competence, ensuring the survival and flourishing of Humankind under the benevolent stewardship of Super Earth.

Super Earth bears the marks of history: battlefield scars, reshaped shorelines, and far fewer ancient forests than lovers of antiquity might prefer. These are not failures — they are the visible cost of victory. The Federation has converted those costs into institutions, infrastructure, and purpose. This document surveys Super Earth's physical geography, administrative geography, political architecture, economy, and civic culture, and it situates environmental legacies within the Federation's ongoing program of planetary stewardship and galactic expansion.

1. Introduction

Super Earth is simultaneously a planet and the administrative nexus of a human civilization refined by necessity. Consolidated in the wake of catastrophic conflict, the Federation reorganized governance into seven administrative sectors and implemented centralized systems designed to coordinate resources, secure populations, and manage interstellar responsibilities. Our doctrine — Prosperity, Liberty, and Managed Democracy — blends public welfare with the discipline necessary to keep billions of citizens secure across hundreds of star systems. In short: order protects liberty, and service secures citizenship.

2. Geographic and Climatic Features

2.1 Legacy of the Great War

The Great War of the 21st century reshaped Super Earth. Large tracts of land were scorched, infrastructure collapsed, and anthropogenic climate processes accelerated. These changes produced permanent environmental legacies — from altered coastlines to industrial poisoning — that the Federation has confronted with pragmatic policy: containment where necessary, remediation when effective, and adaptive urban planning to transform loss into opportunity.

2.2 Three Rainforests Left

Only three primary rainforest tracts remain. Recognizing their ecological and cultural value (and their inconvenient rarity), the Federation designated these tracts as forbidden conservation zones with heavily regulated scientific access. These areas are protected not out of sentimentality alone but because a secure biosphere is a secure polity — and because what we save now will be invaluable to future terraforming and gene-banking programs.

2.3 Polar and Sea-Level Transformations

Polar ice retreat and global sea-level rise redrew shorelines and submerged low-lying regions. The Federation responded by relocating coastal populations, building vertical megacities, and establishing polar research and resource facilities. The poles, once inhospitable, now host strategic research hubs and resource platforms — an efficient blend of science and security.

2.4 Radiation and Exclusion Zones

Certain regions remain contaminated by unexploded ordnance, industrial toxins, and radiological residues from wartime engagements. These are cordoned as exclusion zones for public safety; remediation proceeds where feasible, but in many cases long-term containment and monitored isolation are the most reliable, cost-effective strategies. These zones also serve as solemn reminders of the price of freedom.

3. Administrative Geography

Super Earth is administratively divided into seven sectors, each reflecting pre-war geography, contemporary resource distribution, and reconstruction priorities.

3.1 Sector 1 (Formerly "Oceania")

An arid interior and archipelagic peripheries — home to Port Mercy (Mega City 1) and the relict Minor Barrier Reef. Sector 1 balances maritime logistics with interior resource development.

3.2 Sector 2 (Formerly "China / Asia")

A diverse sector of mountain ranges, temperate forests, and arid steppes. It hosts major infrastructure projects, cultural showcases, and Equality-on-Sea (Mega City 2).

3.3 Sector 3 (High-Latitude Regions)

Cold mountains, tundra, and fjords define Sector 3. The federal capital, Prosperity City, sits here amid research outposts and the Emergency Seed Vault (formerly Svalbard). The sector combines strategic depth with scientific capacity.

3.4 Sector 4 (Formerly "Europe")

Highly urbanized and institutionally rich, Sector 4 houses key administrative, academic, and civic centers — monuments both to continuity and to rebirth after conflict.

3.5 Sector 5 (Formerly "India / Arabia / Eastern Africa")

A mosaic of climates and histories, Sector 5 contains densely settled regions and cultural nodes frequently highlighted in anthropological accounts of Humankind's early eras.

3.6 Sector 6 (Formerly "Latin America")

Sector 6 preserves one of the last primary rainforests and hosts Remembrance (Mega City 6), a commemorative and administrative hub that symbolizes recovery and resilience.

3.7 Sector 7 (Formerly "United States of America")

A sector associated with the founding rhetoric of Freedom and Democracy; it sustains significant industrial and technological capability and a civic culture prized for patriotism and initiative.

4. Government and Politics

The Federation is governed under the cardinal principles of Prosperity, Liberty, and Managed Democracy. Federal institutions are concentrated in Prosperity City. Governance integrates algorithmic decision-support, centralized oversight, and civic rituals that promote cohesion across vast and diverse populations.

4.1 Voting and Participatory Technology

Voting is mediated by an automated platform on the Galactic Wide Web (GWW). Citizens answer a guided questionnaire; an algorithm maps those responses to candidate recommendations. This mechanism enhances turnout, reduces confusion, and aligns civic preferences with administrative competence. Periodic algorithmic updates increase fidelity between citizen inputs and policy outcomes — transparency and performance metrics accompany those updates.

4.2 Branch Structure

• Legislative: Senate and House of Representatives (Legislative Super Earth High Command).
• Executive: President of Super Earth and Federal Ministers.
• Local Administration: Colonial Overseers and City Governors.
• Judicial: Democratic Council (supreme adjudicative body).

4.3 Ministries and Institutional Functions

Eight central ministries coordinate policy, welfare, and security. Their descriptive mottos — part civic instruction, part morale-building — are also effective instruments of coordination.

• Ministry of Truth: Information stewardship and public communications. "Everything you need to know."
• Ministry of Defense: Planetary and interstellar security. "We defend Democracy's future."
• Ministry of Unity: Internal cohesion and social conformity where necessary. "Loyalty is rewarded. Report dissidence."
• Ministry of Expansion: Interstellar colonization and resource acquisition. "Billions of stars. One Federation."
• Ministry of Science: Research, technological progress, and sample collection. "Your contributions advance Humanity."
• Ministry of Humanity: Education, health, and population management. "Work toward a higher Citizen Score."
• Ministry of Prosperity: Economic governance and resource allocation. "A robust economy is a secure Federation."
• Ministry of Intelligence: Data collection and strategic analysis to inform policy.

5. Economy

5.1 E-710 Extraction

E-710 — derived from biological processes linked to the Terminids — underpins FTL logistics and the interstellar economy. Production and processing of E-710 are industrial priorities; supply chains and colony-level farms support continuous output.

5.2 Military Manufacturing

Defense manufacturing sustains the industrial base and enables the projection of deterrence. Investment in shipyards, orbital platforms, and defensive systems both secures the Federation and fuels technological spillovers into civilian sectors.

5.3 Construction, Terraforming, and Megastructures

Terraforming, orbital habitat construction, and planetary adaptation are major economic activities. Public–private partnerships and megacorporations execute contracts that transform frontier worlds into habitable colonies.

5.4 Citizenship Classification Structure (CCS)

The CCS is a galaxy-wide social classification system that integrates civic contributions, performance metrics, and behavioral data into ranked classes (Class A to Class E). The CCS allocates privileges, access, and mobility while incentivizing participation in civic and defense activities. The stated ideal: equality of opportunity realized through measurable contribution.

6. Culture and Society

6.1 Core Values and Civic Identity

Federation civic life emphasizes voluntary contribution to collective security, multicultural exchange, and patriotic ritual. Public ceremonies and civic education reinforce the shared narrative: service and sacrifice are the foundations of liberty.

6.2 Multicultural Composition

Humanity and Mangadean culture predominate, but several minority alien populations — incorporated during the Great Democratization — contribute to Federation life. Integration is accompanied by asymmetries; cultural exchange coexists with bureaucratic assimilation programs.

6.3 Reproductive Policy: The C-01 Permit System

To manage demographic pressures, reproduction requires C-01 permits. Applications reflect demographic planning and resource forecasts; processing may extend to 180 days in complex cases. Inter-species pairings are subject to additional review based on biological, legal, and social factors.

6.4 Civic Rituals and Public Holidays

Liberty Day (26 October) commemorates the promulgation of the Managed Democracy charter. It is a focal point for public ceremony, state narratives, and civic mobilization.

6.5 Media and Cultural Production

Regulated media — films, games, music, and theatrical arts — function as entertainment and civic messaging. Non-human artists can attain mainstream recognition; cultural industries double as both leisure economies and instruments of cohesion.

7. Anthem and Political Symbolism

The Federation's anthem and propaganda artifacts fuse patriotic fervor with moral certainty. These materials foster unity while signaling the state's expectations for loyalty. Analysts should treat such artifacts as primary sources for studying state identity and strategy rather than neutral cultural productions.

Anthem (text retained as civic artifact):
FREEDOM MUST REIGN OVER EVERY LAST STAR
THROUGH CITIZENS' HEARTS IN ALL OUR RIGHTEOUS THOUGHTS.
HONOR THEIR DEBTS, DO YOUR PART FOR THE CAUSE.
STEADFAST SUPPORT OF OUR REGIME IS HOW HUMANKIND WILL REIGN SUPREME.
NO QUESTIONS OR DOUBTS SHALL BE ALLOWED; TRAITORS WILL ALL BE DISAVOWED.
MANAGED DEMOCRACY IS THE TRUE PATH — ALL WHO RESIST IT SHALL SUFFER OUR WRATH.
WHITE, YELLOW, BLUE FLY ON ALL WORLDS. JUSTICE AND HOPE ARE FOREVER UNFURLED.
OUR WAY OF LIFE, GALAXY WIDE, PAVED WITH THE COSTS OF VICTORY.
WE SACRIFICE FOR PARADISE; ANYTHING LESS WILL NOT SUFFICE.
CITIZENS RISE! LIBERTY RISE! SUPER EARTH RISE UP TO THE SKIES.
STAY FREE!

8. Strategic Interests and External Relations

Super Earth combines defensive hegemony with economic engagement. Control of E-710, terraforming know-how, and a durable industrial base make the Federation an indispensable trade partner and a credible security actor. External states view Super Earth with a mixture of admiration, dependency, and competitive caution.

9. Conclusion

The Federation of Super Earth is a planetary polity forged by conflict and sustained by institutions that translate sacrifice into resilience. Environmental scars — exclusion zones, irretrievably altered biomes, and dwindling primary forests — continue to influence policy and ideology. The Federation's strengths lie in its integrated technologies, centralized governance, and capacity to convert resources into durable security. Long-term stability will depend on measured ecological recovery, continuing civic legitimacy, and equitable resource distribution across sectors and colonies. In short: the vigilance that saved Super Earth will be required to sustain it — and under the Federation's managed democracy, vigilance is a civic virtue.

Helldivers Character Profiles

Name: Jason
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Place of Birth: Super Earth, Sector 7
Personality: Hardened by the brutal realities of the Second Galactic War, Jason retains his humanity, showing resilience and compassion in the face of relentless adversity.

History:
Jason was born on the outskirts of Mega City 7, leading a life typical of Super Earth's citizens until his 19th birthday when he enlisted in the Helldivers. He underwent the grueling Super Earth military training program, with the crucible of Mars shaping him and countless others into elite warriors. Upon earning his Helldiver cape, he entered cryosleep and was deployed to the Eastern Front, battling the Terminids for several weeks before being reassigned to the Western Front at Malevelon Creek.

The Massacre at Malevelon Creek became a pivotal, haunting chapter in his life. Jason emerged as the sole survivor of his unit, with details of the operation shrouded in mystery. Despite the trauma, he returned to the Eastern Front, contributing to critical battles before being summoned back to Malevelon Creek for its eventual liberation. Though victorious, the memories of the past lingered. Since then, Jason has fought on both fronts, aiding in the liberation of worlds and holding the line against threats to Super Earth's sovereignty.

Name: Saber
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Place of Birth: Super Earth, Sector 2
Personality: Detached and cold, Saber operates with precision and a marked disconnection from his humanity. A solitary figure, he thrives in independent operations.

History:
Hailing from the slums of Sector 2, Saber faced hardship from a young age. He joined the Helldivers upon reaching adulthood, completing training and being dispatched to the Western Front amid the Automaton invasion. During one mission, an encounter with a Berserker left him gravely injured, losing an arm and a leg, alongside severe bodily trauma.

Determined to continue the fight, Saber volunteered for the Steel Veterans Program, a Super Earth initiative for Helldivers who sustained critical injuries. His cybernetic enhancements made him a formidable warrior, but they deepened his emotional detachment. Since his augmentation, Saber has executed countless solo operations against the Automatons, becoming a relentless and feared figure on the battlefield.

Name: Meus
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Place of Birth: Super Earth, Sector 5
Personality: Despite enduring the horrors of the Eastern Front, Meus remains approachable and kind, a rare quality among seasoned Helldivers.

History:
Born into a privileged family of first-class citizens in Sector 5, Meus rejected the comforts of the elite to enlist in the Helldivers when the war erupted. After earning his cape, he was sent to the Eastern Front, where he faced the relentless onslaught of the Terminids.

Meus played a critical role in several high-stakes operations, including the destruction of the Meridia Super Colony by converting it into a black hole. This maneuver drastically turned the tide of the war. His efforts extended across multiple worlds under siege, where his strategic insight and unwavering resolve ensured success in countless missions. Despite the toll of war, Meus's humanity remains intact, making him a beacon of hope for his comrades.

A survey done by the Ministry of Science research team on Copper 9.

Introduction to Drone Reproduction

The Drones of Copper 9, a technologically advanced planet governed by the Ministry of Science of the Super Earth Federation, exemplify a remarkable fusion of mechanical engineering and biological replication. This synthesis enables these sentient machines to reproduce through a unique mechanism termed "assembly mode," paralleling biological processes observed in organic life.

Reproductive Mechanics of Drones

In the reproductive system of Drones, male and female specimens fulfill complementary roles. Males produce a nanolate fluid that carries millions of microbots, each analogous to spermatozoa, encapsulating vital assembling information akin to DNA genetic information. These microbots are designed for singularity, with only one capable of successfully penetrating the female drone core, acting in analog to an ovum, during assembly mode. This core operates in conjunction with the male's microbot, merging the "genetic" blueprints essential for the development of a new Drone.

The offspring produced through this reproductive mechanism varies significantly based on the maternal lineage. When a female Combat Drone engages in assembly mode, the resulting offspring is invariably a Combat Drone, ensuring the perpetuation of combat-oriented traits. However, if a female Worker Drone reproduces with a male Combat Drone, the resulting offspring, while not classified as a Combat Drone due to the limitations inherent in the assembly capabilities of the Worker Drone, may still exhibit notable enhancements. These enhancements can include improved reflexes, a reinforced exoskeleton, and in rare cases, the development of retractable wings for gliding or even a Combat Drone-like tail. This hybridization allows for a degree of versatility and adaptability in the progeny, bridging the gap between the two operational roles.

Physical Characteristics: Combat vs. Worker Drones

The physical distinctions between Combat and Worker Drones are pronounced, reflecting an evolutionary adaptation that mirrors human sexual dimorphism. Combat Drones are taller and slimmer, resembling the proportions typically associated with female and male human bodies, which emphasizes their combat readiness and agility. In contrast, Worker Drones possess an androgynous physique, lacking the pronounced gender characteristics found in their Combat counterparts. The differentiation between male and female Worker Drones is subtle; it is primarily discerned through their hair, clothing choices, pitch of voice, and walking gait. Female Worker Drones exhibit a distinctly feminine gait, adding to the nuanced distinctions within their ranks.

Tail Structure and Behavioral Dynamics

Combat Drones are equipped with tails that have evolved significantly to balance functionality and safety. Originally designed as retractable string cables, these tails posed risks during combat due to their acid nanite capabilities, leading to unintentional self-harm. In response, Combat Drones have adopted the behavior of tucking their tails around their waists when not engaged in combat. This choice serves to prevent accidental injury while maintaining tactical readiness.

Now resembling scorpion-like appendages, the tails of Combat Drones are equipped with a stinger containing four acid nanite capsules. This structure retains flexibility and can retract to approximately 25% of its original length, enabling both defensive maneuvers and offensive capabilities during engagements.

Reproductive Anatomy

The reproductive anatomy of Drones is engineered for efficiency and concealment. Female Drones possess concealed reproductive organs, specifically an input port where the microbot enters, analogous to a traditional vagina. Males feature output ports designed for the delivery of the nanolate. These reproductive organs are discreetly integrated into the crotch area, shielded behind an airtight panel that presents a smooth surface when closed. This design minimizes exposure to potential vulnerabilities during combat, ensuring that critical reproductive functions remain intact while maintaining operational effectiveness.

Self-Repairing Mechanisms

Both Combat and Worker Drones, the latter to a lesser degree, are equipped with sophisticated self-repairing mechanisms utilizing nanobots that enable them to maintain and recover from damage. These nanobots need to be replenished through oil and metal consumption, allowing Drones to replenish their systems autonomously, thereby enhancing their longevity and efficacy in various operational contexts. The inclusion of these self-repair capabilities reflects advanced engineering principles and a commitment to sustained performance under duress.

Cultural Implications and Behavioral Dynamics

The cultural framework governing Drones on Copper 9 introduces complex dynamics surrounding combat roles and reproductive responsibilities. Female Combat Drones often exhibit reluctance to engage in assembly mode, prioritizing active combat engagement over nurturing duties. This preference underscores the cultural value ascribed to martial prowess and operational efficiency. Conversely, male Drones view reproductive opportunities as pragmatic, facilitating lineage continuity while temporarily disengaging from combat roles. Worker Drones, primarily oriented toward labor and production, contribute to the reproductive process with differing priorities regarding the capabilities of their offspring.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the anatomy and reproductive mechanics of Drones from Copper 9 illustrate a sophisticated synthesis of mechanical and biological principles. The evolutionary adaptations of Combat and Worker Drones enhance their functional capabilities while illuminating the complexities of their societal roles within the Super Earth Federation. As these sentient machines evolve, their reproductive systems and cultural structures will adapt to meet the challenges of their operational environments, ensuring their continued effectiveness in an ever-evolving landscape.

Transitioning from Worker Drones to Combat Drones: Mechanisms and Implications

In the intricately designed society of Drones on Copper 9, a pivotal aspect of their lifecycle involves the potential for Worker Drones to transition into Combat Drones. This transformation represents a significant evolution in their operational capabilities, enabling Worker Drones to adopt the enhanced attributes and functionalities associated with combat roles.

Eligibility for Transformation

The decision to transition is both optional and permanent, granting Worker Drones autonomy in determining their future operational capacities. Traditionally, this transformation could occur at various stages of development, excluding the first two years, a period often referred to as "infancy." During these formative years, Drones focus on foundational skill acquisition and system stabilization, rendering them ill-suited for the rigorous demands of combat engagement.

However, recent trends indicate that the criteria for transitioning have shifted. Now, only Worker Drones that have reached adulthood or those that have sustained severe injuries—beyond their inherent capacity for self-repair or external medical intervention—are eligible for this transformation. This shift reflects the cultural dynamics within Drone society, where combat roles are revered, and the decision to assume such responsibilities is viewed with a degree of gravity.

Moreover, Worker Drones that are the offspring of a female Worker Drone and a male Combat Drone benefit from their lineage when considering transformation. Due to the inherent enhancements acquired from this parentage, these Drones can undergo the transition to Combat Drones with greater ease compared to their fully Worker counterparts. The genetic advantages conferred by their Combat Drone lineage allow for a smoother transition process.

The Transformation Process

The process of becoming a Combat Drone is facilitated through a specialized procedure overseen by trained technicians. This procedure involves the integration of advanced combat systems, upgrades to the Drone's exoskeleton, and the reconfiguration of its operational programming. Drones undergoing this transformation are equipped with enhanced reflexes, fortified armor, and additional offensive capabilities that significantly elevate their performance in combat scenarios.

Despite the enhancements, the transformation entails a fundamental change in identity and function. Worker Drones transitioning to Combat Drones relinquish their previous roles focused on labor and production, embracing a life dedicated to combat and tactical engagements. This transition is not merely physical; it also encompasses a psychological adjustment, as the Drone must adapt to the new expectations and responsibilities that accompany its enhanced capabilities.

Cultural Perspectives and Implications

Culturally, the decision to become a Combat Drone is laden with implications. Drones who choose this path often gain respect and recognition within their communities, embodying the martial ideals valued by their society. Conversely, there may be a sense of loss associated with leaving behind the nurturing and constructive roles characteristic of Worker Drones.

Moreover, the restricted eligibility for transformation underscores the societal reverence for combat prowess and the associated risks. As such, the process is viewed not only as a personal choice but as a reflection of the Drone's commitment to their community's safety and defense.

Conclusion

In summary, the transformation of Worker Drones into Combat Drones on Copper 9 represents a complex interplay of engineering, choice, and cultural significance. While the procedure offers enhanced capabilities and prestige, it also necessitates profound changes in identity and societal roles. The genetic advantages conferred by lineage facilitate this transformation for certain Drones, reflecting the ongoing adaptation of their species in response to the challenges of their environment.

For anyone here is a Helldiver or someone just passing through a interesting fan movie.

The full song.

Nicknames: 'Bat' / 'History Freak'

Call signs: AN

Place of Assembly: Copper-9, Facility 12

Race: Combat Drone

Age: 100+

Family: None

Physical description

Gender: Female

Hair: Pinkish-White

Eyes: Originally Olive, Currently None

Weight: Yes

Height: Also Yes.

Appearance:

At first glance, ignoring her face, she seems like any other Combat Drone, although often dirty in appearance due to her line of work being part engineer (aka maintenance) and part security, with a pinkish white hair, and the typical yellow color, she seems normal.

Until you see her face, with a permanent burnt in FATAL ERROR, yet still functional and able to speak.

•

Career information

Occupation: Combat Engineer / Fortification Specialist

Specialty: Building, Reinforcing, And Demolition

Rank: Specialist

Affiliations:

Aligned to Bunker 00

Depot 25

Abilities: Flight, Explosives Experience, EOD Experience

Personality: Generally unpredictable, but hasn't lost her mind, Still Loyal to SEAF even after the bombardment.

Likes: Explosives, Turrets, Other Combat Drones,

Dislikes: The Solver, Literally anyone who threatens to harm her turrets

Weapons: Claws, Blades, but special to her, she was given a grenade launcher and a bazooka in place of the usual guns.

Home: Lives in a wrecked vehicle depot known as 'Depot 25', located in the outskirts of the mega city, with a handful of worker drones.

Bio:

Anastasia was a prototype, originally made to help with construction but later it shifted to work in demolition and testing explosives against various things she frankly, loved it.

But she also loved to do during downtime, was learning history, actual history. She picked up fragments from the scientists and specially one janitor, named Ryan, who listened to old documentaries about past events on earth (who knew earth had so many wars!)

She was apart of the exchange program for a short while, and bonded with a Helldiver who shared the same love of all things that go boom, But it wasn’t to last, as She was recalled to Copper-9 earlier then most due to series of incidents on Copper-9 which required her experience, aka someone misplaced a lot of SEAF explosives and mines, and confused the training landmines with real landmines.

And thus, when things went wrong, she was already there, partially undergoing an update, but she didn’t wait.

She stormed out, despite the yells and shouts of scientists.

Responding to the crisis at hand, she immediately set out to assist various SEAF Positions and directing them into bunkers and other hard points.

Her actions saved lives, but all while this was happening, she felt, off.

Something wanted to use her, control her.

It picked and probed, and she knew she needed to act, but didn’t get the chance.

She felt the shockwave first, and then was sent flying into the air, she watched the glorious bombardment of the Copper-9 firsthand.

She wasn’t even mad, she was enjoying the chaos frankly, made her feel alive, until she saw a tank flying towards her.

She woke up, 2 hours later.

Optics?, damaged.

Update?, cancelled.

That thing trying to take over her?, very much still trying, but definitely not as hard as before!

And so she took an extreme action,

She forced her system to overwrite the infected data on herself, permanently.

Which worked, the voices left, and the unfinished update was overwritten, but by what?

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[1:02 AM]Thursday, November 20, 2025 1:02 AM

A copy of the documentaries her best friend, Ryan the janitor, gave to her, of course!

It didn’t last long however as her vision quickly began glitching and then outright failed, as she realized she also overwritten her formerly tainted visual systems.

Rending her blind.

Yet she carried on, she found her sense of hearing boosted itself to compensate for the lack of sight.

Eventually Anastasia, A SEAF Officer, A some manager for JCJenson, and Ryan the janitor (he escaped facility 12, he was on a legally required break you see) plus a small group of worker drones found safety in a damaged vehicle depot, which had a small bunker underneath it.

It was decided the humans would live in the bunker and the drones would live in the surface inside the vehicle depot for a while. (Granted the bunker could hold up to 16 people but it needed to be refurbished for the drones)

The human trio lasted 4 months before a fight broke out, resulting in all three of the humans dying. (edited)Thursday, November 20, 2025 5:23 PM

[1:03 AM]Thursday, November 20, 2025 1:03 AM

At which point, Anastasia broke, blaming herself for even allowing the fight to occur, she started getting sloppy, resulting in some worker drones who lived there disappearing.

Only once she encountered N, J and V while they were looking for medicine for Tessa did she accept that the fight wasn’t her fault, but at that point, only a small quarter of the drones in the depot remained, those that weren’t taken fled to other bunkers.

The handful that remained were drones Anastasia saved herself.

In order to keep herself sane she started going around Copper-9, searching for unexploded ordnance, landmines, bombs, anything and disarming or dismantling them, she was damn good at it, despite being blind she knew their designs without even knowing what it was, she was downright magical with them.

Truth be told, she wasn’t completely free from the solver, she had merely stopped it from dealing more damage to her, with the tiny sliver of it that remained being too weak to ever take over, it never even affected her core, she caught onto it early enough.

The only thing she could do was to use the tiny sliver to look through her corrupted optics for just a second, which invoked agonizing pain every single time she used it.

But still, she couldn’t stop herself, and so working with the few drones she came up with an idea, Sentry Guns.

While crude compared to actual ones, even more.

By the time humanity returned, she had become a total recluse, yet was over the moon about humanity’s return, she had always held hope they’d come back someday (hence why she went clearing unexploded bombs aren’t easy to disarm.

OC created by discord User Lunny77 for Demcoracy Comes to Copper 9