There was no victory, only survival. That was the way of war, the dirty little secret of combat. Even for one such as Lora, who’s body had been improved to handle such extremes, the truth was unavoidable. 

      Ash clouds smothered the skies, blocking out the sun as if it it were the dead of night. The heat was stifling, and easily boiled the skin of those who were unprotected. Clad in her MK III warplate, Lora Rookson heaved through the stale air filtration in her helmet. The ground underneath her rumbled, tortured by the constant orbital bombardments and tectonic distress. 

      The fog of war surrounded her on all sides, and yet she stood alone. Her squad had fled, although they hadn’t gotten far. Lora couldn’t blame them, for she almost did the same. The legions they faced were unlike anything she had ever seen. 

      Machine driven slaves, human beings with wires for veins and oil for blood. Their bodies wore their loose flesh like slick rain coats. Whatever humanity remained was lashed inside their metal bound skulls. Chains dragged from their ankles, and dangled from their wrists. Shark like teeth ripped through what was left of their gums. Bionic eyes glared with a madness that shot through the bone.

      There are thousands of them. The sounds of their chains ringed through the air as they approached with remarkable speed. The guns surgically attached to their arms fired flechette rounds that ruined the bodies of the irregular troops. Only the augmented could weather such wounds, only they had decent armor.

      In response, the Tyrian alliance dispatched a Reaver to balance the scales. The warrior stood over two meters tall, wearing state of the art MK IV platinum armor. His genetically enhanced physique built to bear the weight without hindrance. He fought unlike anything Lora had ever seen. His unstoppable mass wreaked havoc among the mind slaved legions, while Lora’s company had fled in panic. 

      Now, as the bodies of a thousand broken cyborgs laid in heaps around them, the Reaver trudged his way back. The joints of his armored carapace protested with each step. His entire right arm was ripped free at the joint, leaving behind a bloody stump. Half the veteran warriors face was aghast in pain, his tongue flopped freely from his shattered jaw to hang loosely upon what was left of his throat.

      He took three simple steps forward until the armor seizing under duress. He then fell on his knees, the last spurts of blood pouring from his wounds.

      A hazy eye strode up Lora’s warplate. Somehow he managed a grin, despite the pain.

      “You…didn’t…run…” His voice was wet and gurgled.

      Lora just looked up at him in horror, not sure how to respond.

      Slowly others from her company returned, all were alarmed by the warriors wounds. He looked at them all, and then pointed a finger towards Lora.

      “Follow…this one…” His last words were barely audible in the bloody wind.

     They had indeed followed her. From one ruined world to another. From one void station to the next, and finally here on a colony ship lost in space. She wished that they hadn’t. Reflecting on the past had only soured her impression.

      Half her troop were overwhelmed in the initial assault, although they fought bravely. The Star of Argon had been caught off guard. Without their ace pilot ranging ahead, they had nothing but deep space sensors to preemptively warn them of any threat. Apparently, the shadow class dreadnaught was immune to such folly.

      The ship descended upon them like a thief in the night. Its hull overshadowed the stars as it approached. By the time they knew what was happening, the Star of Argon was ensnared by some kind of strong gravitational weapon. It pinned them in place, and held them still.

      Boarders latched onto the hull, and then quickly proceeded to take possession of the ship. One deck after the other, they swiftly seized control. The weapons they brought were designed to maime and stun, rather than kill. It took just over an hour for half her mercenaries to fall in their grasp.

      Bulky men, steroid or hormone driven brutes, stormed through all opposition. Their meaty hands easily pinned their pray once within reach. It was cold and calculated, how they advanced through the ship. Eventually Lora commanded what few passengers were left to flee and hide. Her soldiers held the line until only a few remained. And now, those few were chased like rats in a maze. 

      Three days later, Lora’s command was left to only four mercenaries, including herself.

      Danica Iano sat in prayer, her strong fingers gripping the shaft of her rifle as she mumbled quietly to herself. She had a warm smile, and handsome face, despite her age. Danica was the oldest mercenary among them, and yet she accredited her survival to one of grace rather than luck or experience. 

      Then there was Caio Oriele, who’s armor had peeled off after taking the brunt of a brutes punches. His eyes had been blacked from the fist fight, and it was only now that his augmented body repaired the damage to his face. 

      Next to her, Ugo Caedus kept his eyes peeled down the hall. Unlike Caio, who had a knack for boxing, Ugo was out of his element. He was a sniper by training, and treated his weapon like a woman he was trying to seduce. Cramped within the confines of a starship, such skill was wholly irrelevant. 

      “Nothing up ahead,” Ugo whispered through the transmitter in his helm. The pistol in his hands had its safety off. 

      Lora took a moment to think. She had one clip left in her bulky carbine. It was only half full. The small red digits along the back of the rifles upper receiver highlighted the few rounds she had left, as if mocking her. 

      Lora was tired, even with her genetically enhanced body the days of fighting had taken its toll. She had been in her armor so long it felt like an extension of her skin. Combat instincts had long kicked in, keeping her focused on an objective. 

      Roughly fifty passengers were safely hidden in one of the chambers on the lower decks, the captain was among them. They all needed food and supplies, not to mention a working transponder to call for help. Lora had volunteered to take what was left of her command to scout through the older sections of the ship in search for old store rooms and warehouses. The odds that they would find any edible food rations was low, but the passengers needed hope. 

      The captain believed there were old supply stockpiles that had been unaccounted for. Lora pretended it wasn’t a confession that he had been smuggling illicit products in the bowels of his ship. She supposed it was possible that the captain had hidden emergency supplies in the event of such an emergency, but Lora didn’t get the impression that he was so forward thinking. Either way, it was possible they could scavenge some valuable equipment.

      Since scouting through the corridors, they had yet to encounter any threat. The ship had never been more quiet, and that was deeply unsettling. 

      Lora sat against the wall, her armor on low power mode. She needed to be careful, and save the power so that she had enough juice for her energy shields. She would need them if she were unlucky enough to find herself within arms reach of one of those hulking brutes. 

      Darkness crept over her like a shrowd. Dust laid thick upon every surface as they proceeded down the halls. Without her combat helmet, she doubted she could stomach the foul taste of confined sweat in the air.

      “This isn’t right,” Caio kept to the rear, watching their backs. His accent reminded Lora of the shoreline fishermen back on her homeworld. 

      “Damn slavers, may god curse them.” Danica had finished her prayer, and got up from the floor. Unlike the other, she hadn’t worn her helmet, instead she breathed the rancid air without complaint. Lora couldn’t help but wonder who she was trying to impress.

      “We can’t stay here,” Lora made up her mind on which path they should take. “Ugo, we’ll take it slow—“

      Her voice froze as Ugo raised a fist in alarm. Suddenly all four of them were on high alert. Lora raised her weapon and aimed it down the hall. 

      A small bundle of shadows began to float against the darkened walls. The sound of soft footsteps echoed. They were too small to be the hulking brutes from before. Lora dared to hope they might’ve found more survivors.

      Just as she took a step forward, the shadows halted…then turned directly toward her.

      Definitely not friendly! Lora realized in shock.