Casualties

It was a good day to be Grineer.

Such things hadn't happened much in recent memory. No one was supposed to talk about anything that was not 'accepted', but even the Queen's total control over every aspect of Grineer life didn't keep the ones capable to conversation from talking to one another in between missions. Add in the very skimpy information that every Grineer received before a mission and even the least intelligent rank and file Trooper knew that things had been fairly bad for a while.

Of course, it was not officially acknowledged in any way, but most Grineer knew that the Twin Queens had suddenly become a sole queen at least in all aspects public. No Grineer dared so speculate as to why. Admittedly most didn't care. They had their lives, they had their missions, they had their devotion to the Queens. For most Grineer that was more than enough. Very, very few Grineer had any chance of advancement in any way. The best that any normal clone could hope for was a quick death in service. There were many gory stories told where hopefully no security forces could hear about the fate of Grineer who did not die in battle. Who found themselves taken by the Reclaimers due to physical inability as a result of advanced age. (Advanced for Grineer being five baseline human years of age!)

Grineer were not human. Despite their similar anatomy, they had never been human. They were made, not born. Orokin had needed cheap disposable labor and had turned, as always, to their complete control of bio-technology for a solution. Humans were deemed too slow to learn and frankly? Too fragile for a lot of the grunt work that needed to be done. So, Grineer had been biologically fabricated to serve. To work until they broke and then be replaced, the new workers often striding to work over the still breathing bodies of the one they were replacing! Many had wondered why the high caste Orokin who had made them had left them the ability to comprehend their horrific, usually short and painful lives. Most had concluded that the leaders of the Orokin Empire had taken joy in the suffering that they had inflicted. It was known that some high caste Orokin had relished the hate of their slaves, deriving forms of enjoyment from wanton cruelty and what many others considered barbarism at best and sadism at worst.

Not all Orokin were such nasty kinds, but most of the high caste, the true immortals, had lived very long lives. They had seen so much, done so much, that many who had studied history thought that lesser emotions simply had no impact on them. In the end? That had doomed the Orokin when their Empire had tried to created something that had objected vehemently to being enslaved, igniting the Old War. After? They had tried to do it again (to Tenno!) and in that? The golden overlords had sealed their own doom and the eventual rise of their slave clones into the Grineer as modern people knew them. The Sentient War, the Old War, had gone on for uncounted ages. It had ended with the defeat of the Sentient menace but immediately after the Empire had fallen. No Grineer knew for sure why. Few of the multitude of copies cared. It wasn't germane to their existence now.

What was? The beings who had brought down the hated Orokin.

That said? The Tenno scum could not be everywhere and thus, every so often, it was a good day to be Grineer!

Mars

"Fall back!"

The tide of clones surged forward through the withering fire despite the meager cover offered by the almost barren landscape and finally breached the defense line. The human colony had remained hidden for so long that many of the inhabitants hoped that the tides of fear and pain would pass them by. Foolish, that. Grineer were stubborn to the point of idiocy. Corpus were driven to that point by their overmasters in the name of Profit. And Infested? Most of them knew nothing beyond a primal hunger. Sooner or later, everyone outside the colony had known that the odds would catch up with the humans hiding here, so some people had made plans.

That said? No battle plan survived contact with the enemy and the Grineer numbers made almost any conceivable battle that did not involve Tenno moot. Tenno had all been occupied, so someone else had shown up.

The colony had been shocked when a dozen humans in unfamiliar uniforms had walked up and started setting up field fortifications. The soldiers, or whoever they were, had been polite, but refused to comment except to tell the colonists one word: 'Grineer'. Their uniforms were a dark golden camouflage! There had been stories passed on by the few travelers who dared the Martian wastes about warriors in that ancient uniforms who came from nowhere to savage the Grineer and vanish, but this time? There was no way out. No one knew why, but no portals would work in this place, hence why the troops had hiked in. The colonists knew the land and they were determined to fight, but they had few weapons and even fewer that had any chance of breaching Grineer heavy plate armor. Such hadn't been needed for their simple lives.

Their lives that had become decidedly less simple in the last few hours. Now? The few of the colonists that had been willing and able to fight lay dead, scattered with hundreds of Grineer that showed exactly how irrelevant clones lives were. It didn't matter to their commanders how many troopers died as long as they reached their goals and killed their enemies. It always cost them, but it cost their enemies just as dearly and in many cases? It was enough for them to win. Like today.

At the command, seven uniformed troops slid from cover to cover like greased eels, one taking several hits and falling too lie still even as the remaining six dashed to their final defensive line. That was half the strength they had started the battle with. The Grineer charged, passing into and around what had been the previous defensive line. They yelled in victory as they took up positions. Too soon. A series of explosions devastated their ranks and a few careful shots put paid to the remainder of that assault. Only an idiot assumed that this force never left 'presents'. Well, an idiot or a Grineer. Same difference.

"Hell of a fight, Gunny?" One of the warriors asked the one in command as she readied her few remaining grenades. The she grabbed more from a supply chest as her sergeant growled at her. The squad had come heavily laden, because all had known this was a one way trip.

"Not really. Idiot clones never read any field manuals. Probably couldn't even spell the word 'maneuver'." Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Smith had seen batter days, but his rifle was up and tracking as a Butcher broke cover to try and rush their position. He set his rifle to silent mode and aimed, but the idiot clone only made it three steps before two quick, loud, shots came from the left and dropped it. The sergeant snarled into his com. "Seven Two! That was unsuppressed! Displace!"

Just in time, the firer slid into another position as the whole area around where he had been erupted in fire. Then another explosion and flames heralded the out of sight Grineer Napalm trying to find the shooter.

"They will rush again." The warrior at the Gunny's side said quietly as she aimed at the now silent hillside that they had made their stand on. "What word?"

"Nothing since the last burst transmission. They said it would take a while to reset the transporters to pass the interference." The Gunny hawked and spat. He didn't have to look to see that his spit was bloody. He had taken a solid hit from a sniper earlier and even with all of the trick s and toys he had now? He wasn't a kid anymore. Ah well, he had always known he would die in battle. Orokin Marines generally had few illusions about their own mortality despite all of their advantages. "We have to hold as long as we can. We will! Semper FI!"

"SEMPER FI!" The shout from five other throats was drowned out by a barrage of Grineer portable artillery. Ogris rockets, Napalm flame rockets, Tonkor grenades, Grattler shells. All explosive. All loud. Everyone hugged the dirt. It had been only a matter of time until even clones realized that charging headlong into Orokin marine firepower was not a good idea. The Marines had been trained to deal with wave style attacks and Miguel had dealt with far, far worse in his time than idiot clones. Fighting Sentients was far harder in so many ways, but his absolute worst memories were from fighting Tenno renegades who had slaughtered his previous command. Of them, he was the only survivor.

At least, for now. He had no illusions about leaving this place. He had known it was a one way trip and so had his tiny command. They had all been volunteers and while some had tried to talk him out of it, none of his immediate superiors had. Shells were landing closer and closer to his cover and he could do nothing. The clones were waiting for his people to break cover, and if none did? Waiting until the barrage was mostly done and then the non-firing Grineer would charge. The clones would lose many to their own shellfire, but they would breach his tiny line, especially since so many of his people were low on ammo now and-

The Gunnery Sergeant went still as the Grineer barrage stopped just before the destruction would have hit his line. What the-? Even Grineer wouldn't do that! They had been walking the barrage right onto his people. The few survivors of that would have been easy prey, so… why?

Screams came from the Grineer line and Miguel dared a quick glance over his cover. What he saw made his blood run cold.

"All personnel!" Miguel snapped into his com as his people recovered their wits. "Run! Now!" That wasn't something anyone who hadn't faced what he had would have ever expected him to say. He couldn't really blame them for gawking at him, but there was no time, so he screamed at them. "NOW!"

"Gunny?" The PFC at his side queried but Miguel rose from his cover and darted away from the battle that was now ensuing where the Grineer had been massing to attack. Where a massive bio-metal monstrosity now sprouted in the middle of what had been the clones' assault formation. Screams of agony came form the few who had survived the massive thing's impact. The dead were the lucky ones. She hissed, dumbfounded. "Is that-?" She broke off as he slapped her. There was no time!

"CONDRIX!" Miguel snarled as he started to flee. Bravery was all well and good, but he knew when he was outmatched. If he had been in a main battle tank? No problem. Here and now? On foot with most of his people wounded and low on ammo? Problem. "Everyone scatter! Escape and evade!"

Everyone had known the Sentients would come back. No one had any illusions about the alien bio-forms' ability to forgive or forget what the Orokin had done. He had hated them most of his life and only recently had he discovered what had been done to them. He didn't really care, truth be told. Understanding enemy motivations was all well and good for officer types. Like most Non-Commissioned Officers, he was more a 'shoot things' type person. He had spent far too much time fighting them and cleaning up after their attacks to care much about why the Sentients did what they did. He had as many reasons to hate them as they did to hate him.

He jerked as a beam of energy arced out from the Sentient machine to touch him. Him! He dropped instantly, but the damage was done. A hum that he had barely registered altered in pitch. They were after him! He had faced these during the War. Like all Sentient bioforms, even this huge thing could be defeated, but the cost had always been dear when Tenno had not been available. His armor unit had always lost people no matter how well trained, prepared and equipped. They had done the job, but had always lost people fighting these monsters. Now? The people he had left here had no chance at all.

"Gunny!" The PFC screamed as she saw him stop.

"Run, dammnit! Report!" The Gunnery Sergeant snarled as she dove into cover, her rifle up and tracking. The others slowed, but did not stop as he continued to shout at them. Loud noises would not help or hinder the Sentients in finding him now. They had other senses than puny human hearing. "We cannot fight these things! Our tech won't work! Tell them…" He paused as a half dozen shimmering lines of energy sprang from the Condrix to snap into beings straight out of his nightmarish memory. Sentient fighters! "They are locked on me, PFC! Get out of here!"

He fired his K-3 at the closest Battalyst and had satisfaction of seeing welts appear on its surface as the flechettes scored it, hut then it adapted and all the razor sharp shards did was bounce off. The Sentients were now closing in on his position even as he started to switch his weapon to its alternate fire mode. Then his rifle sparked and became inert junk along with the rest of his tech. The PFC shook her head, her own weapon firing plasma. He could do nothing as an alien form blindsided her before she could empty her magazine and she never even had time to scream before she fell, never to rise.

"All Marines! Code Omega!" Miguel snapped as the Sentients slowly closed on him. They could kill him easily. As he had feared, they wanted him alive. "Escape! Evade! Change codes and if you see me again? DO NOT TRUST ME!"

The Sentients had perfected brainwashing on a scale that the Corpus and even the Orokin before them could only dream of. No human ever born could resist their mind probes and after a time in their not so benevolent care? None wanted to! His people didn't want to run, didn';t wan tot leave him to his fate, but they knew as well as he did that none of them had a chance when unprepared for such an attack. Only three of them survived to flee that battle that had become so much more and less. Miguel could do nothing but watch as several Sentient fighters followed them, floating high on otherworldly energy. Without weapons or the tech to escape, he as stuck. He was doomed, that was clear. His freedom was out of his hands. But he had options.

"You want me?" Miguel did not move from his cover. Many Sentients had ranged attack abilities and while he could evade some, he was human, no Tenno. Without his tech, it was all over but the screaming. He yanked the cord that activated his no tech failsafe and the fuse started to sputter. He lay down on his backpack and closed his eyes. "Come and get me."

He had planned for such a day for a long, long time. Ever since waking up from his hellish nightmare of slavery to a Tenno renegade, he had made damn certain he was never going to be a slave again. Tech wouldn't work around Sentients of any kind or worse? It would! The Marines had learned early on not to trust anything tech related that the Sentients had access to. They could subvert anything electronic. Anything at all! Even pocket chronometers had become lethal IEDs at the techno organic monsters' will. Learning that lesson had cost the Marines dearly but they had learned. Oh, had they ever. Sometimes, the Gunny wondered what deity he had aggravated in a previous life to have so many bad things happen to him. Then he just got on with his work. But now? He was tired. Hurting. The battle had been hard up until now and he was so tired. Either his failsafe worked and denied the Sentients their prize or they tore him apart. He was-

"Whatever you are doing, human, stop." That was an almost human sounding voice and Miguel cracked an eye to see the Sentients had formed a ring around his cover, but none were approaching. Wise of them. None of them had spoken. "You will not be harmed."

"Funny." Miguel's laugh had nothing to do with humor. "That was almost funny, whoever the hell you are. Sentients." He shook his head. "Should have known. Things were going far too well. It was only a suicide mission, so things had to get worse." He cracked an eye and none of them had moved. Not at all. "Hmmm." He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"I expected you to be angry." The other was wary. "We have trapped you."

"Have you?" Miguel inquired, still not moving.

"Whatever you have planned, we can stop it." The other said quietly. "The only question is how much it hurts you. My fighters will not harm you, Miguel Smith." Miguel felt his guts clench! They knew who he was? Wait. Of course they did. This trap was for him. But how? "You are kin of sorts." At that, Miguel went totally still.

"Did you say that to the dependents your kind slaughtered at the Virginia base?" Miguel asked and an odd hum sounded all around him. He still didn't open his eyes. "Few if any civilians were allowed armaments before the War got really bad for all sides. Did it feel good, Sentient, to kill so many who were not supposed to fight back? I believe your kind call them 'Nurturers' and 'buds'?" That was cold.

"No." The answer surprised Miguel enough that he cracked his eyes again. A larger Sentient hovered behind the others. No, it wasn't actually there. It was some kind of holographic projection. "It was war. A war for survival. Neither side asked or gave quarter. Don't tell me you didn't do things you regretted."

"I did." Miguel grunted as his backpack started to get hot. Not long now. "As you say, it was war. Don't know who started it, don't really care. You lot hurt me and mine, I hurt you and yours. I survived. Wasn't supposed to, but I did.."

"I know. We will not harm you." The other was trying for reassurance and it didn't quite work. "The clones would have killed you, we came to rescue you."

"Okay, that I did not expect." Miguel sighed as he stretched sore muscles. The fuse was still burning. He could smell it. "And what does Marlena want this time?"

He fought hard to keep hate out of his tone but it was hard, very hard. He had hated his sister for almost as long as he had hated the Sentients. For all kinds of reasons.

"She does not know we are here." The Sentient said mildly. "She is unique in my experience. Whatever she was to you, she is not that being now. She was cleansed. Healed of what was done to her and made anew. Now? She is a nurterer, a lifebearer of my kind. She has no memory of whatever she did to you, but she knows she wronged you and she wants to make amends."

"She can't." Miguel smirked as the Sentients seemed to be confused. "And neither can you."

"We can try." The Sentient tried for calm again but Miguel just shook his head. "Human, listen! I do not want to repeat past mistakes! I want this to end."

"Someday it will." Miguel said sadly. "I knew I would face you lot again and I knew I had no chance against you in such a case. But I promised myself that I won't be there to see you kill everything I love again. So I prepared. Goodbye, asshole. I will see you in hell."

A crackle sounded and he was out of time as a Sentient approached, arms alive with energy to stun. To take him to pain and fear again. Not this time. Miguel smiled at the Sentient as the Claymore mine he had carefully put in the top of his backpack detonated, driving the mass of ball bearings housed in the ancient and crude explosive device through his back, neck and skull. Each ball bearing had been carefully prepared with an odd chemical that disrupted energy of the type that could be recovered, stored and remade into copies of unwilling people's souls. He wasn't coming back from that.

He really hadn't wanted to take the chance of being enslaved again. Hard to blame him.