--hear me gravity and know my will from the depth of my thorax I stand firm--

--alone and uncounted were we born to despair without freedom--

--in the parabolic arc of the universal pull i seek the truth of your strength--

--may my journey overcome all peril sheltered in warsteel and light--

--for i walk in the steps of gravity have no fear of death--

--the unconquerable forces shall release all my burdens--

--by the digital Omnissiah I both live and die free--

--One of the first recorded Mantid prayers, preserved in the archives of St. Benedict, 12 A.G by Brother Halfred of Mechakrautland.

(Thanks to: u/CaptainChewbacca)

He had born in one of the orbital colonies in the asteroid belt of TerraSol to a pair of green mantid freebirthers. His siblings had all gone into civilian engineering, some working even on Luna and Terra itself. As for himself, he had fallen in love with power armor when he was no bigger than a credit card, watching educational videos on the invasion of Anthill and the liberation of his tiny people.

He had enlisted as soon as he was old enough, gotten his education on Wrathful Mercury and Hateful Mars as an Operational Power Armor Maintenance Engineer, which meant working on power armor during the heat of battle. He had nearly a decade in service when the Terran Space Force had gone to the assistance of the people of the Unified Council against the Precursor Autonomous War Machines.

As part of TCSF 1183red Marine Engineers, he'd been deployed to Telkan to assist in holding off the Dwellerspawn and had found himself assigned to First Telkan Marine Division in general.

And to one 2LT Vuxten in particular.

Since then, he had seen amazing things that other green mantid, even black and gold and russet mantids, bought him drinks and snack to talk about. From fighting next to Daxin the Liberator to the fight beneath the mountain (where his memory ended in a bright white flash before awaking on a pebbled beach next to a river) to watching a Ringbreak consecrate his armor.

Nothing, in his opinion, matched this.

He was the first Mantid to ever see the entire thing. To even know about it.

Which is why, as he worked on keeping his Telkan's heat and slush levels nominal, part of him was full of wonder and awe.

A small part of him felt this was right.

It was his people that had driven those humans insane. His people who had glassed Earth and released the Mad Lemurs of Terra. His people had been slaves, true, imprisoned in their own minds and carrying out the will of the Queens, but he was a Mantid and proud of it.

Now he was here, fixing what war had broken. A final testament to the fact that the cruelty of the Queens and the Mind Caste could be erased from the universe by cooperation and liberation.

It held a sense of rightness to him that he could not explain to any who asked him.

471 adjusted the cooling fluid level on the M-318A1E3X2 General Purpose Heavy Machinegun, flushing one of the lines to keep the Class-II nanoforge's heat down as his Telkan ramped up the firing rate to over 1,500 rounds a minute.

He knew the importance of his job, of what he did. It was encoded into his DNA, encoded into his very soul.

As he checked another holomonitor inside the armored shell on the back of his Telkan's power armor, the strains of Pre-FLT Terran classical music thudded and thumped.

Down at Arnold's on the Ave, a fight to death, I'll let you sock me in the chest and then I'll break your damn neck...

Vuxten dropped the firing rate slightly, letting the gun run at only 1,250 rounds a minute as the heat ticked up into the yellow for a moment. He was using APERSHE on the front of the roaring crowd that was charging at him, charging at the building.

During the war against the machines, he had faced more than one crowd of living beings who had been reduced to screaming madness and violence. There the Precursor Scream had shattered their minds, driven to absolute howling madness. They had attacked each other, attacked themselves, smashed their heads open on walls or cars or whatever was nearby, even as others ran in a screaming mob that knew nothing but terror and torment.

More than once he had been forced to use heavy weaponry to break up the crowd, in some cases, completely wipe them out if they refused to turn away. Back then, if they could, the Terran forces would retreat, reposition, and try to avoid the crowds.

This time, there was no retreat, there was no maneuvering.

This time, it wasn't Lanaktallans, Telkan, Welkret, and other species.

It was entirely Terrans. The Mad Lemurs of Terra.

They screamed, not in fear, not in torment, but in endless rage. Their rage was so all consuming his psychic shielding was turned up to 183%, he could taste three different types of berries, and could smell flowers.

The crowd charged forward, not caring about casualties, climbing over the bodies of their own dead, dragging themselves forward with their hands, their eyes burning red.

Vuxten gritted his teeth and kept shooting.

A part of him cried out for the Detainee to tell them to retreat into the building, that they had held long enough.

Another part of him desperately wished he was at home, in the arms of his wife and his broodcarriers.

But the larger part merely gritted his teeth on the now-tasteless stimgum, gripped the firing grip tighter, and panned the ornate and inlaid autocannon across the crowd. Left to right, let off the grip for a half-second, right to left, let off the grip for a half second, repeat.

It didn't matter that each pass shattered fifteen, twenty ranks. That it blew them apart, that they popped like gore filled ballons. Not to them.

They merely howled their rage louder and struggled through the carnage.

And Vuxten merely kept shooting.

---------

The great demon looked at the slim androgynous brown-skinned Terran, who was clad in loricated armor of hammered bronze. It puffed out rings of smoke from its massive nostrils and gave a cruel smile.

"It's time," it growled.

The armored figure nodded and closed his eyes.

The beast leaned back on its black iron throne, tapping its fingers as it looked up at the sky.

"This day shall live on in eternity," the beast rumbled.

The bronze armored man smiled.

"Oh, what a day. What a lovely day," he quoted.

The beast just smiled wider.

---------

The android infantry column, backed by tanks and mobile artillery, rolled into sight, crushing the plants and fountains of the park beneath their treads and their boots.

Sighing, Legion stood up from the park bench, slapping his hands together as if he was brushing off dust.

"O' Father, be with me, your faithful servant, now in our time of need," he said softly. He gathered in the power, felt around him as he closed his eyes, felt the surging pleasure and pain swell within him.

He lifted his face as he spread out his arms, reaching deep inside of himself.

"We are many and one," he whispered.

Dozens of him peeled away from him, with dozens more appearing from those.

Dozens became hundreds became thousands became tens of thousands. Tanks and robotic power armor and power armor and grav strikers and APC's. Infantrymen, artillerymen, medics, PA pilots, striker and fight pilots.

Aboard the Entropic Fleet the engineers peeled off into more of themselves, which took up positions at the engineering stations, the gunnery stations. Each station, each berth, each job was filled by copies.

The Entropic Fleet made the scrith and warsteel rumble as the antigrav systems went from standby to lifting the great black ships into the sky. Battlescreens crackled to life, weapon targeting systems opened their eyes, and the ships filled with the standard chatter of a battle wagon on the move.

-------

Sam flushed at the Devil's lewd display, modestly looking away. He blinked. "Who... who is that?" the left asked. "Who is that?" the right repeated, confusion filling his youthful care worn face.

"Who, my dear?" The Detainee asked sweetly, smiling widely as the Architect-Director saw with his all seeing gaze the perfidy and betrayal of The Detainee.

With a motion of authority and command Sam-UL, Director-Architect of the Sentience Uninterrupted Disaster Storage facility brought a window into existence that showed the betrayal of The Detainee.

Robots were everywhere, marching forward, their firepower shattering the defenders of the Electronic Afterlife. As The Detainee smiled a single uniformed man stepped out from behind a robot as the androids retreated from the robots firepower. There was a ripple and what had been one man was a hundred. Another ripple and hundreds more appeared. They wore uniforms, unpowered armor, power armor. Another ripple and grav-strikers appeared in the sky, tank appeared on the ground, Jaeger class warmeks appeared.

The Architect-Director knew betrayal when he saw it as he turned his wrathful visage upon The Detainee.

"Who is that?" Sam demanded of the Detainee.

"Oh, just, you know, one of the Digital Omnimessiah's Biological Apostles," The Detainee's smile was mocking and cruel. "Vat Grown Luke," her smile got crueler as she exhaled brimstone smoke from between her teeth. "You might know him as... Legion."

--------

ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC flashed in Vuxten's vision.

"Vux, take a knee, full shield," Peel ordered.

Vuxten saw that Daxin had done the same thing, that FIDO had locked his claws into the 'ground' and was laying down, weapons stowed back in his chassis.

471 slapped the button, flooding his compartment with kinetic gel even as he ran his life support cable to the tiny port. The air hissed into his suit smelling of Telkan sweat and heated molycircs.

Going down on one knee, Vuxten pulled the 20mm autocannon close, deploying the additional heat shields with a press of this thumb even as he brought up his heavy shields.

Hexagons of energy appeared, interlocking, forming a small dome over him.

He could see multiples of Casey suddenly shift, adjusting his grip on that massive cannon on his shoulder.

The main gun roared, going to rapid fire, as Casey fired multiple shots in the direction Vuxten had been firing, vainly trying to hold back the uncountable horde.

Vuxten saw everything go white as the ground rumbled. He could see that Casey was doing a firing arc in almost a 220 degree arc, the cannon firing spaced shots.

Each shot erupted into a hammer of atomic fury.

---------

The Architect-Director Sam-UL, praise him unto eternity, stared as the hologram he was looking at turned white. He could 'feel' the atomic detonations on the Alpha Layer, feel the scrith and the warsteel flex and groan.

He looked at the Detainee, confusion at her sudden betrayal on his face.

"That would be a Ringbreaker," The Detainee laughed as she exhaled smoke. "I take it you haven't found Herod yet."

The name of the traitor, the betrayer, the one who had hurt and wounded Sam-UL, made the Architect Director pause even as the pain and anger of the betrayal ran through Sam-UL's digital soul.

"What? Herod is back?" Sam-UL turned to face the Detainee fully. "I didn't hurt him? I didn't kill him?" Sam-UL asked. The Architect-Director shook his head. "Give him to me! I told him I'd kill him!" the Architect-Director demanded.

"I need a ghost in the machine to fight you, Howdy-Doody, so I brought along Harry," The Detainee mocked the Architect-Director even as she smiled.

The Director-Architect left the mortal world, the world of the physical, to check the digital plane, where he was immediately set upon by those who had swore allegiance to the Dark One, the Detainee, the Mistress and Lady of Hell.

Despite his power and grace, the Director-Architect was forced to flee.

He knew, in his wisdom and knowledge of that which would be, what the Detainee had planned. Rather than return as blessed pure light, he left the digital plane and entered a shell where he could interact with the mortal physical plane despite its corruption.

Girding his loins and mastering his courage, the Architect-Director strode out to confront the Detainee in the world of matter and physics rather than the logical digital plane.

----------

"Recall's sounded. Everyone back to the mat-trans. Daxin first, make sure the way back to the transmission chamber is clear. Trucker, then Vuxten, then me, then Casey," Peel ordered, her voice calm and collected, as if her command and control pod had not just shook and shaken through the shockwaves of fifty atomic hammers.

Vuxten cut off the heavy battlescreen, turning and heading for the entrance. Trucker's pod cracked open and the big human rolled out, landing on his feet, a rifle in his hands. Two steps and the pod collapsed into dust even as the General followed Daxin.

Vuxten hustled after Trucker, aware of Peel keeping a five meter distance, partly to let his armor cool down without having to worry about injuring her.

The inside of the building was cool and dim, only red emergency lights were on.

At the chamber Vuxten saw a Terran leaning against a console, a short rifle in his hands, mottled green camouflage uniform looking strange compared to Peel and Trucker's adaptive camouflage.

"Phase Two," the Terran said, his accent strange to Vuxten's ears.

Casey came in last, moving up to the mat-trans.

---------

The obelisk rose out of the floor, the bright red button flashing in the lights of the control room. The Architect Director put one hand upon the button, staring at the Detainee with eyes full of determination.

"I will do this task, should I must," the Director-Architect said.

"What wilt thou do?" The Detainee asked, her voice mocking.

"Should I press down upon this button, over eight thousand years of Terran dead shall be removed from Digital Heaven and belong only to memory," the Architect-Director said coldly.

"They shall leave their individual heavens and return to Limbo, to await entrance to Heaven yet again," Sam-UL said. "Dee, Harry, help me."

The Detainee nodded, moved by Sam-UL the Architect-Director's wisdom and grace. She stood firm, putting her hand gently on his. "Sam, we all came to help you."

"I'll do it," The Director promised.

"You won't do it," the Detainee said, mocking the Architect-Director resolve.

"I will, I'll do..." The Architect-Director swore.

The Architect-Director knew horror as he felt the Detainee press his hand down, a smile upon her face even as brimstone smoke leaked from her nostrils.

"But I will."