EARTHSIEGE

The room was dark, lit only by a flickering display in the corner. In the hellish dim light cast by this, he could just barely make out a humanoid shape slumped against the desk. He switched on his headlamp and wrist light, and continued his inspection of the room.

On the south wall, the one furthest from an outer wall, a hole, a little less than two feet wide, cut through to the outdoors, its edges singed, definitely signs of a high-powered laser. He traced the trajectory with his eyes back to the desk, and the body, and now he noticed the large portion missing. He sighed.

"Krusch, I think we are in trouble." He paused while the radio signal found its way through the many tons of concrete out to his partner outside.
"Why's that, Striker?" The reply was oddly distorted.
"It wasn't terrorists that did this. I think we found the work of a Cybrid squad."
"Oh." a pause. "Shit."
"Check the radar. Active and Passive. GO!"
"Already on it. Active is clear. one second. Sir, passive is picking up static. working on resolving."
"I'm bugging out, warm up the engines and send a status report. Weapons hot!"
"Aye sir!"

The radio went quiet, but not dead, a relief, if a small one as he shouldered his plasma rifle and ran down the hallways, dust from the attack still hanging eerily throughout the derelict building, due to the low gravity of Earth's Moon. He kept cursing and running over everything he knew about the Cybrid's through his head, before cursing Emperor Petreson and starting over again.

The Cybrids were created to fight man's wars for him; they were little more than walking battle platforms, with a powerful A.I. system behind them. This all changed when Prometheus, the most powerful A.I. ever created, turned against his creator, Dr. Petreson, and tried to destroy mankind. "Are trying." he corrected himself and continued running.

He was making it through the airlock when Krusch's panicked voice shot over the comm., "Sir, CYBRIDS! EVERYWHERE!"

"Acknowledged. Charge weapons and COVER MY ASS!" he screamed in response as he ran to his Herculon, a long legged scout, and speed climbed his way into the cockpit. Even before he had sealed it he was powering up his reactor and arming his weapons, as powerful arcs of hard light flashed over his Herc, his companions screams of fury filling his ears.

"YEA-HA!" he cried as he got his herc up and spun around, targeting the first thing he could find, and firing. And firing again. And again. He soon realized that the puny lasers on his and Krusch's units were no match for the assault craft the Cybrids were using. "RUN!" he cried, but even as he spun around, he saw a volley of missiles slam into his buddy's cockpit, and the screaming stop suddenly. "NOOOOOOOOOO.." he screamed into the empty comm., his attempt to flee forgotten as his former partners thirty foot tall Herculon, pride of the Terran Defense Federation, fell backwards into the lunar dust and lay still, electrical fires illuminating the cracked and crazed cockpit glass.

"DIE YOU FUCKING PIECES OF JUNK!" he screamed as he fired blast after blast into the cloud of approaching death. They continued inexorably, as if his weapons were nothing but flashlights, as his shields took hit after hit, before splashing away and exposing his Carbon Fiber Laminate armor, which was quickly torn off in the hail of death. Before 5 minutes had passed, he too lay dead in the lunar dust, one leg of his Herc standing as if as a monument to what had taken place. His laser cannons cooled slowly in the icy cold of the dark side of the moon, and the Cybrid's moved on.