Outside the Hanger doors.
A group of golden-colored 'chs' slashed at a half-transparent barrier of energy with a 6m tall long sword shinning with golden radiance. Their actions were perfectly synchronous with each other.
Each slash of the sword brought about wave-like ripples on the barrier, which grew increasingly smaller with repeated attacks.
Stop! a domineering voice suddenly echoed within the heads of all the chs.
The golden swords halted in union and the almost transparent barrier gained a mont of respite. The 'chs' then turned their heads and looked towards the source of the voice.
Standing on the deck of a floating vessel, which looked like a hybrid between a traditional boat and a modern spaceship, was a 2.3m tall being with an ant shaped head.
Group 25, retreat. Group 44 takes their place. he instructed, his gruff, cold voice resounded in the head of the 'chs' floating in space.
He was humanoid in figure, possessing two arms, a pair of legs, an upper body, and an ant-like head. A pair of mandibles protruded from his mouth and on the top of his head was a pair of antennae.
He wore a close-fitting black colored armor that protected the majority of his body, except for his head. Golden lines covered the entirety of the armor drawing complicated patterns and mystical words.
This alien-like person, instructing the 'chs' was one of the invaders that were currently haunting Mankind.
The invaders belonged to a race called Formicians.
The Formicians were a Grade 4 species and the personal creation of the Myriad Species Queen. Possessing superior intelligence and physique, the Formician had an ant-shaped head, with a pair of mandibles, antennae, and a humanoid body.
Their compound eyes were smaller and more compact, compared to their lesser cousins, the Alien Bugs. Like all Grade 4 beings, they were born with a minimum of Stage 1 cultivation and also possessed a unique ability.
Their unique ability was called [Telepathy] and ca in the form of their Antennae. This ability allowed them to freely and limitlessly communicate with their brethren and sync their minds with each other, enabling the transfer of mories and data.
Not only that [Telepathy] could also be used to communicate with others who were not Formicians. However, there remained certain limitations to this usage, such as one-sided communication and the like.
As a Species built for the sole purpose of warring, they had a strict hierarchy from their birth.
A Greater Queen whose purpose was to lead the entire race.
Lesser Queens whose purpose was to birth new mbers of their race. They could also create new variations of their species.
Thinkers who were the brains and strategists of the race.
Warriors whose sole purpose was to fight for the race.
And finally, Workers who were the logistics and basically everything else for the race.
Further classification exists within the Warrior and Worker subtypes.
The golden-colored ch was a newly birthed subtype of the Warrior. It was a fusion between Mankind's ch technology and the Formician Warriors. In other words, it was a biological entity that was made from the remains of the chs.
As a race personally created by the Myriad Species Queen, they were an incredible race with the frightening potential to adapt and evolve.
Back to the story.
On the Formician Leader's command, the previous group of warrior-chs retreated and a new group ca up to replace them. Finding their positions they raised their swords in unison and waited for the leader's command.
Attack the mont his orders fell through [Telepathy], the swords of the warrior-chs swung down.
The flickering, nearly transparent barrier instantly shattered exposing the smooth, bare body of the BS-Lawson.
On my mark, attac--just as the Formician was about to voice his order, the doors of the hanger suddenly opened.
Swoorm!
The intense difference in pressure between the two spaces gave birth to a terrifying force of suction. Unable to withstand the force, the doors of the hanger, which were in the process of opening, tore apart and flew in the direction of the warrior-ch group.
BANG!
The pieces of the tallic door struck the bodies of the warrior-ch and ripped through them, instantly killing it in the process. A mixture of cables and intestines soaked in bluish-gold liquid spilled from the wound, which then floated in zero gravity.
It was a nightmarish scene.
Realizing the danger of the flying projectiles, the Formician Leader instinctively activated the power of his armor. Invisible streams of energy exited the armor, creating a force field around him.
Everyone retreat! he warned.
Unfortunately, he was too late. Following behind the first assault were loads of other debris, exiting the hanger at frightening speeds.
It sufficed to say, their nightmare had only begun
----------------
Inside the BS-Lawson.
Zaine and his squad walked through the long corridors, looking to regroup with the others. Due to the severe shortage of manpower, the battlecruiser operated with the minimum amount of crew. As such, they had yet to et a single person.
With the vessel shaking increasingly frequently, the group found it harder to maintain their balance while walking.
"This fu*king shaking! Who's the as*hat driving this thing?!" Hartman cursed, reverting to his grumpy personality.
"Put down. I canwalk" from behind Zaine, Felix weakly voiced out.
"Shut up and stay put!" Zaine instantly replied.
"But"
"There are no 'buts'. It's a partner's duty to support the other in tis of need. When you need , I will always be there." Zaine finalized. Felix was extrely moved and his eyes started to tear up.
"Want to read the rites? Do ya' swear to protect each other in sickness and in health, in life and in death? " Hartman sarcastically remarked.
Hearing his words the other squad mbers snickered, with so of them starting to catcall. Zaine and Felix felt their face burn in embarrassnt.
With their successful escape from the Main Hanger, the moods of all the mbers had greatly improved. Their attack on the invaders' only served to further improve their morale. (although unsure of how effective it had been).
Turning around another corridor, the group suddenly heard so faint voices coming from a distance.
"We are close!" Zaine's eyes glowed and the group increased their pace.
They gradually approached closer and the voices, in turn, turned louder. The group ca in front of a closed door.
"Wait!" Hartman raised his hands and suddenly stopped. As an experienced soldier he never let his guard down and always stayed wary.
Moving his soul power, he poured it into his ears to enhance his hearing. Placing one of his ears on the door, he tried to make sense of the noises.
"..plealet go" faint pleas of a woman accompanied by sobs.
"..ahahah! We're all going to die anyway. Why not enjoy your last monts with ?" the licentious snickers of a man followed by the sounds of fabric tears were heard.
Captain Hartman's face handed. His eyes turned frighteningly cold, as he grabbed onto the handle pushed forth with his complete strength.
The handle was horribly twisted and the door was forced from its hinges. Throwing the door to one side, the squad saw the scene of the other side of the door.
A 1.7m tall young man wearing a half-undressed Officer's uniform, was forcibly grabbing onto the hands of a woman and tearing her uniform open.
Minor cuts were seen all over the woman's body and her face contained deep handprints, on both sides of her cheek. Her voice choked with tears and her eyes contained despair, as she futilely tried to struggle.
Seeing the new entrants, the two of them were shocked and their mouths were agape. The woman's eyes now contained a trace of hope, while the man's gaze turned to that of fear.
With a voice that was as cold as the frigid tundra's Hartman asked.
"What the fu*k do you think you're doing, maggot."
Facing Hartman's abnormally calm question, the man panicked further. Releasing the woman's hands he stumbled back towards the corner of the room.
"Yo-you wh-who are you guys?!" he shouted in panic.
"I said. WHAT THE FU*K DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, MAGGOT?!" Hartman thundered.
The man felt the remainder of his courage dissipate, as his knees buckled under the tension. His entire body shook with fear as he incomprehensibly muttered.
"L-l-l-leave Y-yo-you can't k-ki-kill an Officer."
Hartman inhaled a sharp breath of air, as he tried to control his rising anger. Taking a few deep breaths, he approached the man and grabbed him by his head.
"S-st-stop! Ple-pl-lease spare m" not giving any regard to his pleas, Hartman ruthlessly crushed his head.
Blood and brain matter splashed onto his uniform. The bloody scene contrasted with his absolutely emotionless face.
He wordlessly turned around and tried to approach the woman. Seeing a man co close, the woman retreated in a panic with her eyes showing her trauma.
Hartman imdiately stopped.
"Rosa, co and tend to this woman." He removed the outer-coat of his soldiers' garnt and threw it towards the female soldiers. Having done so, he walked out of the room.
"What'arya numbnuts standing there for?! Give the lady so space!" he bellowed and the n imdiately exited the room.
Silently staring into the empty corridor, Hartman quietly said.
"Pathetic scum of a human." He spat on the floor.
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