Brains? Metal armors powered by brains?

The metal figures had impressive firepower, and their armors were better than anything Jean has seen in the Roman Empire, but after the berserkers closed the distance, it was only a matter of time before all twenty of them were overwhelmed.

They fought until the last man. Well, at least until the last soul. Jean wasn’t so sure on the “man” part.

30 Roman guards and 3 berserkers paid for this tiny victory with their lives. With Jean sitting this one out, just the handful of metal figures have crippled the group of bodyguards behind Jean and took a chunk out of the berserkers that the Aggressors gave Jean as a decisive card.

But the heavy casualties only confirmed Jean’s desire to seize the powers of the ship for herself. The Roman Empire was only slightly weaker than her forces. A faction whose technology was significantly better than the Roman Empire and could even combat the reach of the Aggressors? She needed to get to them while they were weak.

Turning back and scanning the rest of her guards, Jean knew they were in over their head. In the outside world, they were badasses who could take down a squad of opponents single handedly, but in here, they were the weak ones.

Didn't matter. Their safety was not her priority.

As her men secured the surrounding, Jean knelt down next to one of the corpses and did a brief examination. It seemed like the brain was the only piece of human inside the metal armor. The rest of the figures were completely made of cybernetics parts.

Suddenly, she found something. Something was carved onto the metal surface that covered the figure’s energy core at its chest.

The letter A.

Across the ship, Jean could hear the distinct sound of energy blasters firing and men screaming. The squads she sent in from the other openings have encountered the same resistance she and her team did. Every single one of those teams had less people than her, so they were likely dead. But their sacrifice was worth it, at least to Jean.

They have diverged some of the resistance away from her.

She stood back up and turned back to her men, who were looking at each other. They have heard the same sound, and even the best of the guards had to admit they were afraid. Just a squad of these strange men have killed nearly half of them. Jupiter knows how many more of these men would be deeper inside this vessel. It would be wiser to pull back and wait for the main forces to be here before making another move.

“Push forward.” But Jean’s orders were ice cold.

The men obeyed, and by doing so, they lost their last chance of seeing another sunrise.

Nearly one kilometer from from where Jean was, a figure in a metallic suit stood in front of a hologram projected control panel. Most of his features were similar to that of the foot soldiers Jean and her underlings met in the halls, but there was a large box attached to his back. Several tubes connected him to the box. Blue energy could be seen flowing through the translucent tubes.

He tapped a few keys on the projector.

“21% of the intruders have been eliminated. 32% of all available Alphian units have been disabled. Hostile units not matching the local characteristics have been identified. At this rate, the Alphian vessel will be compromised in 16 minutes.”

The hologram showed a footage of Jean’s squad navigating its way through the tunnels. The footage ended when the figure saw the leading Roman officer point at the camera, and a Roman soldier fired a crossbow bolt at the camera.

“The ship cannot be compromised.”

“Enabling A099 protocol. Activating all Alphian reserve units.”

In a distant part of the ship, five hundred pods formed a 25 by 20 rectangle. All of them were fully sealed. As the command was issued, a sudden sound of hissing appeared throughout the room, and immediately, the door of all five hundred pods slowly opened.

From inside every pod marched out a figure in metal suit.

One of the units in the front put his fist horizontally in front of the sigil at its metal chest.

“Alphian unit AND391039 ready for combat. All functionalities are...uh!”

His body suddenly tensed up, and he started shaking. The units behind him stood still, motionless, as the Alphian unit collapsed onto his knees in pain. He suddenly lowered his head and looked down on his hands.

His metal hands.

And his voice went sharp.

“No...no...what is happening...noooo!”

The next second he completely collapsed. Dead.

A second unit stepped up.

“Alphian unit AND391040 ready for combat. All functionalities are online.”

“Exterminate the intruders.” The order was simple.

“Affirmative.”

On the other side, Jean pulled her blade out of a metallic figure who was already crippled by a berserker. The berserker ripped its arms off and disabled its weaponry, but the figure was still alive. A cut to the brain made that statement no longer true.

Behind her, the seventy or so Romans finished off another squad of twenty defenders. At this point, most of the guards were gone already. The brunt of the Romans were composed of berserkers. Only their heavy plating and rapid regeneration could keep them alive.

That was when a dense wave of footsteps appeared. The expression of the entire team changed. One of the remaining guards turned to look for his leader.

“My lord, we must fall back...my lord?”

But Legatus Decimus was nowhere to be seen.

The guards had no idea how their leader, an original, organic Roman who was just here seconds ago suddenly disappeared, but they didn't have much time to think about it. The next moment, a wave of silver figures flooded past the hallway. Their blasters unleashing a storm of blue blasts.

The guards barely had the chance to put up their shields before half of them collapsed in the dense fire. The second half managed to place a shield between them and the blasts, but that only gave them a few more seconds to live.

The blasts halted a moment to take aim before resuming with the same fierceness. This time, they went for the gaps between the shields. In a hurry, none of the guards had the time to make sure all of their body was covered. Unfortunately for mere mortals like them, a shot in the arm or the feet was more than enough to make them drop their shields. After that, a single blast was all it took.

Dozens of berserkers roared and charged, yet this time, even they weren’t enough. The defenders simply had the numbers. Every second, the handful of berserkers in the front were bombarded by at least twenty blasts. None of the berserkers could last after two seconds after being target fired.

After the first line collapsed, the second line of berserkers took it upon themselves to close the distance, but their life expectancy didn't pass the two second mark either.

As former gladiators that were bred from the corpses of thousands of their own, berserkers had brilliant combat skills. Having been empowered by the Aggressor serums, they were made into unstoppable machines of war. Yet unfortunately for them, the first enemy they faced was a faction from a fellow dimension. They were beaten and maimed, yet with their technological advancement, even a few hundred foot soldiers were enough to take care of these “super soldiers”.

It was an ironically anti-climatic end for a unit that took so much trouble.

The last berserker managed to get into two meters of the Alphian lines. Sadly, he was the only one. All of his fellow kind have fallen while charging, abandoned by their leader and the woman/man who has promised them wealth, honor, and women. All the firing were turned upon him, and finally, after being shot hundreds of times and having most of his armor entirely melted into his body, the man collapsed and died a painful death.

He wasn’t the first to be lured by Ms. Turner into his end, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Speaking of Ms. Turner, where was she?

That was the same question the commander of this ship was wondering.

“Alert. Alert. The native commander has disappeared. Alert. Alert.”

“The native commander has demonstrated traits that don’t belong in this world. Predicting subject movement now. 21% chance of escape. 9% chance of attacking the front-line units. 70% chance of moving toward the control room.”

“All Alphian units, retreat back to the control room.”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirm...”

“Unit AND391000, what is your situation? Examining...Unit AND391000 has gone offline. Location of destruction…”

The figure paused. He suddenly realized one really problematic fact.

Unit AND391000’s last known signal was right in front of the door of the control room.

The figure turned around and issued an order. Immediately, four metallic Alphian units raised their arms and turned to the door.

The next second, all four of them fell flat on the ground. Their machine bodies were fine. The human souls powering them, on the other hand…

The door that the four guards were just pointing at suddenly started crumbling. A black energy attached itself to the metal barrier, chipping it away at an astonishing speed. Before long, a one man tall opening has been breached, and a figure walked in.

The figure stood motionless as Jean, in Legatus Decimus’s body, stepped in.

“You are not a native of this world.”

“And neither are you.” Jean glanced across the control room before returning her gaze to the commander. “Protector or Aggressor?”

With the Romans, she needed to put up a facade, but she knew she had neither the ability nor the need to trick these metal figures. She had no way of putting herself on speaking around with them unless she showed her Reapress powers.

“We Alphians have aligned ourselves with the Aggressors.”

“Well,” Jean smirked. “it just so happens that I am on the Protectors’ side, so tell me, Alphian, is that what you call yourselves? Why shouldn’t I end you right now?”

“You are attempting to intimidate me. It will not work.”

“Why not?”

The Alphian tapped his metal skull, where a human brain resided in.

“During our transformation from human beings to Alphians, a surgery has been done to ensure that we stand free of the bothers of emotions. I am incapable of feeling fear. I cannot be intimidated.”

“Is that so?” Jean replied quietly. “Free of emotions? That sounds boring. What even is the point of living if you can’t feel anything?”

“We can make a deal. We don’t need to be adversaries.” The Alphian didn't go down that path. “My name is Alphian-Sierra. I am the commander of this ship.”

Jean flickered her fingers. A current of the Power of Death rotated around her fingers like a pet serpent. Except this pet serpent had the power to take lives at will.

“And why would I risk betraying the invincible, impervious Protector Corps? What can you offer me.”

“Support. The military and technological support of my kind.”

“Your kind? Is it strong enough to mitigate the Protectors?” Jean rose her eyebrows. “Tell me about your kind.”

Alphian-Sierra tapped a few key, and the image of a blue planet popped up.

“Accessing databank now.”

“We Alphians originated from a class C planet. At the beginning, we looked just like you. Composed of flesh, blood, and bones. Alive, yet weak.”

“I wouldn’t call myself weak.”

Jean’s comment was ignored.

“The path to greatness of our planet was smooth, at least at the start. With interstellar travel technologies, we landed on and colonized a few planets around our mother planet. But everything changed with the introduction of Project Alpha.”

“Project Alpha was designed to revive soldiers so wounded in combat they were beyond salvation. Their brains would be rescued from the decaying bodies and placed into a shell that is incorruptible, indestructible, and nearly invincible. It needs neither break nor rest. Neither food nor water. A basic energy source could keep it moving for days.”

“At the beginning, Project Alpha didn't involve removing the emotions of the users, but soon, it was obvious that even the strongest of minds couldn’t stand watching themselves forever trapped in a metal suit, the only contact between what was left of them and the outside world being through a computer screen. After multiple instances of Alphians being mentally corrupted and terminated, the emotion-dampeners were installed into the armor.”

“So how did a super-soldier armor become this? Something must’ve gone terribly wrong in your great civilization if the commander of a fleet is in a metal shell.”

Jean didn't need to be too smart to realize only the most deranged person would choose to put himself in an Alphian shell willingly. From what she heard, only those with the other choice being death would go down such a path. Since the only ones she saw onboard was an Alphian, she knew there was more to the story.

“Our civilization was advanced technologically, yet it had one weakness. Its people. Within years of interstellar travel, our civilization descended into chaos and war. Generals and governors, controlled by their greed, turned on their own people. Even our own planet was dying. Our heavy industry system produced so much pollution that the planets were impossible for human beings to survive off. When it was apparent the end was near, law broke down. People consumed by fear and anger turned on each other instead of working together and looking for a way out. Our warships burned in collision with each other, yet they could’ve brought our people to the safety of another undiscovered planet.”

“A small group within the government had a revelation. Humanity was inherently weak, not because we were physically vulnerable or technologically backwards, but because we would always fall victim to our emotions. Angry. Hatred. Jealousy. Feelings is a curse, not a blessing, and those prophets took it upon themselves to destroy that curse.”

“All the Alphian units were secretly activated. Several commands were altered. Before we knew it, legions of Alphians have swarmed across every fragment of the remaining powers. Warships were overrun. Governments, destroyed by their own metal defenders. Military, put down by their most trusted brothers-in-arms. The Alphians took thousands and thousands to conversion factories, where they were turned into new Alphian units and sent back onto the task.”

“With every conversion, the resistance was weakened by one man, and the Alphians, they had an extra unit.”

“Before long, the entire planet was converted. Not a single human being was left. All that stood in their place were billions of Alphians.”

Alphian-Sierra’s voice was stern. Even when talking about the tale of such a great revolution, his voice remained as cold as ever.

“But what is your end goal?” Jean suddenly frowned. “The only thing preventing an army of emotionless metal beings from hibernating until the end of time is a goal. A goal born of pure reason, not emotions. A goal so much greater than the basic desires of survival that power humankind.”

Alphian-Sierra looked at Jean strangely.

“That is correct. Have you ever dealt with someone like us before?”

“You can say that.” The answer was vague. “So what is it? It’s not greed. It’s not pride. What goal is prompting you and your kind to make your way through the Infinite Realms?”

“Simple. To rid the Infinite Realms of its greatest curse.”

Alphian-Sierra paused, as if giving Jean some time to process it.

“To rid the Infinite Realms of the plague that is emotions.”