A small group of sleek cyborg warships casually orbited around the equator of a cold gas giant with turbulent, swirling storms and auroras dancing around both poles. In their normal, fully operational state, they had an eerie red aura around them, an outline that seemed almost supernatural, but was, in reality, just a side effect of their shielding.

A handful of the ships were different, however. Still shaped like hypersonic gliders, they were three times larger than all other craft around them and sported a backward canopy at their tops stretching a third of the ship’s length. These were known as Mark Ones, command ships armed to the teeth and intended to coordinate the operations of destroyer squads.

Small fighters darted between several ships as they passed by a large, volcanic moon somewhat resembling Io in the distance. In a bridge’s regulation gloom, a cyborg named Jason Ulrich, according to his identification markings, sat in a command chair, looking out into space while glancing at the tablet in his hands. A soft chirp stirred him, making his brows twitch.

“Commander Ulrich! We found them!”

“What? Coordinates?”

“They crashed on Sigma Draconis 691 D, one of the Terra Firma worlds. I sent the flight path to the rest of the squadron.”

“Terra Firma world, huh? That does complicate things a little.”

“We also have Rexx hostiles in orbit.”

“That complicates things even more.”

Jason swiped across his tablet. Entire sentences in Pigpen started filling the screen.

“Commander, what are your orders?”

“We’re moving out. Tell you-know-who to get ready.”

“Aye Commander!”

The ships began to slowly and steadily accelerate and warp out into interstellar space. It seemed as if the fabric of space itself wrapped itself around them in ribbons until they simply vanished from existence, but an instant later, a shockwave of ghostly outlines shot forward and backward from the point where they warped out, fading in a few moments.

...

The alien shards floated in orbit around Sigma Draconis 691 D with a quiet menace, slowly rearranging themselves in a defensive position as a few started to descend, with others following. This sneaking around looked an awful lot like testing orbital defenses, of which the city had few in place.

Christine, Steve, and the technicians in the control room watched the aliens’ movements on the main screen with rising anxiety. The system was still targeting the intruders.

“They’re descending into low orbit,” came the update from Sandra.

“Are we holding fire?” asked Christine.

“So far,” replied Kepa. “The virus is just watching them right now.”

Ingrid walked into the control room in a huff, making a beeline straight for Steve and Christine.

“Christine! I’ve just been notified that we lost control of the base, the cyborgs are missing, and there are now aliens in orbit that we might shoot down because whatever took over the base also has command of our nuclear arsenal.”

“Right, that’s the situation in a nutshell,” Christine nodded.

“Well, shit. Any status updates?”

“I’ve got nothing. Steve has been working the virus angle, but we’re dead in the water. All we can do is sit and watch.”

“I’ve got nothing either,” groaned Steve. “Maybe the cyborgs could stop it, but medical has no idea where they are.”

Another alarm rang out, this one across the entire city. Scores of concerned residents looked out into the desert and scanned their phones for information, which this time, was not easily forthcoming since public notifications were also now controlled by the virus.

“The alien ships are adjusting their trajectory and going in for a landing,” warned Edwin.

The alien craft slowly lined up on their approach, with those leading the formation beginning to angle themselves upwards to enter the atmosphere. Under them, large cloud banks began to part, revealing the desert and mountain ranges. Three of the shards behind them turned to point directly at the planet and maintained a slightly higher, but still descending orbit. Their sides unlocked, radiating an eerie green light.

Inside a silo on the outskirts of the city below, mechanisms around a sleek, hypersonic missile came to life with a low-frequency whir. On their screens, the technicians watched their logs as the virus reviewed their inventory of warheads before selecting its desired payloads.

“I think it’s happening,” said Kepa.

“It’s going to fire?” asked Christine.

“It started dialing in warheads,” clarified Kepa as the virus continued making its selections on the screen. “I don’t think it’s bluffing.”

“What did it select?” asked Steve.

“Six intercept-hardened missiles, ten megatons per warhead.”

“Can we shut them down manually?” asked Ingrid.

“We won’t get there in time,” Christine shook her head. “And we need Security to do it without breaking down blast doors. They would be locked out as well.”

Meanwhile, the alien ships continued to descend, with the lead craft beginning to feel the first sparks of air compression. In the Terra Firma missile silo, the arms holding the missile in place peeled away and the massive magnet around it started to spin with increasing speed. It now floated freely in a strong magnetic field intended to minimize friction on takeoff.

The technicians’ screens exploded with new missile tracking information and the position of the ships. There was nothing they could do but watch as their computers started a battle with an unknown foe.

“Missiles firing in 3... 2... 1...” Edwin began the countdown.

In the silo, the missile itself began to spin around its axis. The hatch above it opened, allowing the morning light in. The missile shot out of the opening along with five others from a row of silos at the top of a heavily armored module, silently clearing the spire of the command tower. Their engines came to life and the missiles screamed into the sky.

The crew watched the missile tracking data and the feed of the alien ships entering the atmosphere in real-time. The missiles were working exactly as programmed, constantly making minor adjustments to guarantee an impact. According to Security, the virus picked well. They would be just powerful enough to remove the current threat, provided these ships were built of metals and plastics similar to human spacecraft, of course, but not blind the outpost in the aftermath.

“Impact in two minutes,” Kepa warned.

The missiles spread into a wide formation as they crossed the line into space. The alien ships started moving as if they detected them, trying to switch up their trajectories. The shards pointing down fired lasers, easily hitting one of the missiles with no effect as its surface deflected the beams.

Another two missiles were hit immediately afterward, but their warheads reflected the lasers at odd angles as they slightly readjusted their trajectories mid-flight.

“47 seconds...” announced Kepa.

One of the missiles screamed towards a cluster of ships while successfully deflecting the defensive fire. All missiles were now close enough to their targets for a visual which was sent to the primary screen of the control room.

“... 7... 6... 5...” a mix of anxiety and excitement in Kepa’s voice was growing stronger.

The missiles were moments away from impact, violently shedding their casings to be vaporized by laser fire or to burn up in the atmosphere and fire their warhead clusters like bullets. A small onboard neural network now took over the guidance, using a handful of sensors to dial in its final trajectory.

“... 3... 2... 1...” Kepa’s excitement was now replaced by an almost tangible dread.

The warheads silently detonated, unleashing white plumes of plasma and auroras as the aftershocks hit the atmosphere. On the main screen, most of the image was washed out by a bright light from the nuclear detonations and slightly disrupted by static as the radiation from the blasts hit the satellite.

“All missiles found their targets and detonated every warhead,” confirmed Kepa.

As the light quickly faded, only a few alien ships were left, damaged beyond repair, floating dead and broken in pieces. An eerie, tense stillness set in as the post-blast auroras began to dissipate. The crew watched the aftermath with a silent mix of anxiety and relief.

“Is that it?” asked Christine.

“Looks like the alien craft are neutralized,” nodded Kepa.

On-screen, an entire swarm of alien ships warped into orbit to replace the initial wave. This time there are far more ships aggressively heading for the planet below. The overlays and dashboards exploded with images and data as the virus was struggling to decide what to do.

“What do we do now?” asked Ingrid.

“I don’t know,” shrugged Steve. “And I don’t think it knows either. We can’t fire off our entire arsenal. Can we?”

“No, even if we do, they’re coming in too fast,” replied Edwin. “That was a scouting party. This is the actual attack. I will run it by Security and see what they say, but I worked for them a long time and there’s nothing in the manuals for this sort of thing. If we hit them now where they are, they’ll fall on the city.”

“I agree with your analysis,” said the cyborg commander, almost giving Edwin a heart attack.

Steve, Christine, and Ingrid gasped as they looked up in the direction of her voice. The technicians also turned their heads upwards to see the cyborg standing on the balcony overlooking the control room floor, right outside the offices. Jake and Meiko flanked her, keeping their distance to secure the stairs and entrances. All three were dressed in their uniforms, with their sidearms secured.

A group of soldiers quickly burst in through the main doors, aiming their guns upwards at the cyborgs. Another group ran through a hallway, guns at the ready. They fell in line at a wall leading to the balcony overlooking the control room. On Ingrid’s orders, they would attempt to flank and neutralize, but something told them it would be a very difficult task at best, as they flipped off the safety on their rifles.

The commander held up her smartphone, completely unfazed by the dozens of troops with weapons pointed directly at her and ready to fire. Jake and Meiko seemed equally nonchalant.

“Now, do you really want to try and shoot us?” chuckled the commander. Oddly, her reaction seemed somewhat friendly rather than the expected grim, malicious teasing.

“All units, stand down,” said Ingrid after a long pause.

“Ma’am, are you sure?” replied an officer’s voice.

“Yes. I’m sure,” she confirmed.

The soldiers lowered their weapons, trying not to show their relief. It was one thing to face other humans. But being caught between two unknown foes? Only those with absolutely no sense of rudimentary self-preservation would be excited about that.

“Thank you,” the cyborg commander politely bowed and swiped something on her phone. The technicians’ computers flickered in sync while their terminals reset.

“We’ve got the system back!” cheered Katja.

“This is why you shouldn’t poke in other people’s computers,” the commander smirked. “Some of them poke yours right back.”

“We have a lot of questions for you,” admonished Ingrid.

“Is now really the time?”

The commander pointed at the screen showing the ongoing alien incursion only to be met with silence from the crew. Very well then, she thought. Let’s try a different tack.

“I’m Commander Isabelle Da Silva,” she said. “Follow our lead and you’ll get through this just fine.”

“Well, Commander Da Silva, what’s next?” asked Ingrid her eyes carefully studying the cyborgs.

Once again an alarm rang out on the bridge.

“We’ve got more incoming,” warned Kepa.

Ingrid gazed sternly at Isabelle who replied with a sly smile. She didn’t know what to make of these odd beings. They looked so different, but their mannerisms and attitudes were clearly human. They even spoke a common dialect among humanity’s many outposts, albeit with a strange accent. But most importantly for the current situation, they seemed calm and collected. This was obviously far from the first time they faced off with an alien fleet. In fact, they acted as if this was just another Wednesday.

The source of their confidence suddenly became much clearer as a squadron of sleek warships just like the one that brought the cyborgs to the planet below warped into orbit and headed for the alien craft without hesitation. The ships unlocked their powerful weapons to allow their kinetic launchers and missile silos to lock on to their targets.

Dozens of destroyers opened their predatory noses to reveal massive, pulsating laser cannons around which they seemed to be built. Spreading out to maximize the impact of their firepower, they unleashed a torrent of missiles and kinetic fire along with monstrous beams from their main cannons. The barely visible, ghostly rays sliced enemy ships in half with virtually no effort as the hail of metal bolts and missiles mercilessly tore through their support craft.

The alien shards tried to scatter at awkward angles only to be quickly followed by small groups of cyborg warships that had their sights locked on them. The sleek warships in hot pursuit released vortices of fighters as if they were guided missiles. As the fighters swarmed around the alien craft like starving piranhas, they quickly disabled their opponents’ engines and defenses. Beams from passing warships did the rest, completely obliterating immobilized enemy ships.

In the control room, the technicians scrambled around their computers, their terminals alight with countless readouts and images of battle from satellites that managed to survive the collateral fire and radiation.

“Estimating that 93% of enemy forces are down,” announced Kepa.

“We have more hostiles incoming,” said Edwin.

“Orbital trajectory?” asked Christine.

Edwin looked back at his screen and momentarily froze in panic. He glanced up at Christine white as a ghost.

“They’re not trying to enter orbit,” he said. “They’re headed right for us. And there are a lot of them.”

Directly above the command center, more alien shards warped in above the cyborg craft. They proceeded directly to the planet below, raining down on the cyborg forces like weaponized hail. As they came in range, numerous shards unlocked, their green auras powering up and firing lasers at the warships below. The cyborg craft hit by the laser fire lit up with red shields which safely deflected the energy around their hulls.

Countless kinetic missiles with red and blue corkscrews of energy behind them erupted from the cyborg ships’ missile silos to meet the enemy shards. Their impact was utterly devastating, reducing nearly a third of the shards to shrapnel. Stray pieces pierced through the shards able to dodge or deflect the initial volley. It was a good counter-attack, but plenty of enemy ships remained untouched and ready to fight.

As one of the falling shards managed to pierce right through the shields and hull of a cyborg warship, it left a massive hole inside it and sent it careening to the planet below. Another shard repeated the same feat. A third was caught in the main beam of a warship but managed to stay intact just long enough to slice through the ship lengthwise and trigger a powerful detonation. The shockwaves sent it spinning end over end, and as it tried to even out, a volley of missiles tore it apart.

The shards still trying to make it through the orbit occupied by the cyborg craft were being damaged by fire from the cyborg ships’ main cannons and missiles, but they finally began to enter the atmosphere and immolate themselves from the heat of air compression. Above them, even more cyborg ships warped into orbit and unlocked their weapons. They quickly began firing their main cannons and long-range kinetic kill vehicles.

Nearly half the shards trying to make it through the atmosphere were picked off, but the enemy craft that survived made it past the hottest phase of atmospheric entry and were trying to slow down for a softer landing. The cyborg ships began to drop large spheres inscribed with their flame and glyph seals to follow as close to the alien shards as physics allowed, the flat engines on their bottoms spinning wildly to keep them in control of their descent.

The main screen of the control room tracked the situations both in orbit and on the ground as the massive alien shards began to land, stabbing themselves into the ground after firing retro-thrusters. This was it, Ingrid inwardly shuddered. The absolute worst-case scenario for which she had been only vaguely trained.

“Enemy touchdown 5.7 kilometers southwest,” called out Sandra, her eyes darting from screen to screen. “Allied... uh...”

“Dragon eggs,” helpfully hinted Isabelle.

“Dragon eggs? Really? Dragon Eggs?” Katja furrowed her brow.

“Would drop ships be better?” offered Isabelle.

“Works for me,” agreeably shrugged Katja. “Allied drop ships incoming. ETA 56 seconds.”

“Mobilize all units, scramble the drones, unlock defensive batteries,” ordered Ingrid feeling slipping into her command role. “I want fighters in the air and artillery on the invader positions.”

“We’d like to join your troops for intel and coordination purposes,” requested Isabelle.

Her voice was cordial but something about the steely tones just barely audible to a well-practiced ear said that it wasn’t a request. Cooperation wasn’t being solicited, it was expected. Ingrid nodded in reply. The cyborgs quickly darted off.

“As if I had a choice...” groaned Ingrid as she watched them start organizing her soldiers, who quickly fell in line behind the confident humanoids.