Day in. Day out. It was always the same thing. Wake in the early hours of the morning, eat a barely edible gruel, check assignments, and get to work. He scanned his hand on the wall, which automatically brought up his assigned duty. He had to work on the crushers today, breaking ore into managable pieces to be smelted. Good. He had business there.

He walked to a small, seemingly unused locker and punched in its code. Opening it revealed a small techpad. Slaves weren't allowed to have any material possessions, even clothes, but that didn't stop him from making his own things. This particular techpad was encrypted with multiple firewalls and code scramblers he had programmed himself. Having a brain integrated with tech didn't hurt. Looking around again to make sure he wasn't being watched by any of the Collective, he quickly entered a message and watched it erase itself as soon as it was sent.



The program he wrote should give the message to anyone who scanned in for their work duty today in a discreet window in the corner.

With that, he made his way to the Processing plant. He hoped his network had grown since he had started this months ago. Half of the people he'd talked to whispered of revolution, and the rest had at least a dim hope. He had to keep that spark of hope alive, so he could ignite it into an inferno that would overtake the facility... And he had just the way to do it.

When her mother died, Centiel went into a sort of emotional lock-down. She'd thought that she had cried herself dry nearly ten years ago when she lost her father, but it turned out that the pain of death doesn't dull. She all but stopped sleeping and eating, and only reported to work because she didn't actually have a choice. Unfortunately, her slump didn't go unnoticed; her productivity was suffering, and that was something that was never allowed to go unchecked.

In less than a week, she was demoted to miner and shipped off to some backwater asteroid facility, and it was made very clear that she was on probation; either her work picked up again, or she would be deemed "useless". And she was under no illusions about what happened to humans that became useless.

Centiel had had low expectations of what she would find at her new home; a tough facility full of tough people doing tough work. The whole prospect of the move was daunting. But now that she was here, she was starting to hear whispers of something; something big. Behind closed doors there was talk of revolt, an overthrow of the system, a human uprising. And that was something she could get behind.

So as she put on her rough, ill-fitting workers clothes and joined the other miners on their way to work, she allowed herself the ghost of the first true smile she'd had in weeks.

A man with a robotic hand. A woman who has lizard's eyes. People with one eye, people with spikes for fingernails. Mutant. Cyborg. Half breeds. Gene Splicers. He'd seen many. They were victims, objects, toys, and pets. They were used until their masters found no more entertainment to be had or until they had outlived their usefulness. They were used and seen as nothings... and some were beginning to believe it.

get treated like an animal long enough, and you start to become one.

Walking through the long hall, chained to others in a line, he continued his forced march towards the crushers. On his way, he caught sight of the Sentinel that was in charge of the place. His name was Davon or Dervor or something... He'd be one of the primary targets. About a month ago, he'd finally gotten the code to his private room. How far he'd come. Five years ago, he'd arrived here broken and under control of the chip he constantly felt on the left side of his forehead. Since then, he'd even managed to rewrite the programs for all his implants one by one, systematically regaining control of his body, the same way he set plans in motion to take back his life.

The first two years he spent regaining control of his mind and body. The next, two he gathered codes, broke into information caches, wrote programs to override the door locks and various other security measures, and perhaps most importantly was able to access the assignment protocols for every slave in the facility. This basically meant he could send them a message once a day through the wall mounted boards and control where certain people were at any given date. He had a select few who knew the details of the plan, and who he chose to lead the charge in different sectors simultaneously. Very soon... they would all help liberate the facility... or die trying.

Arriving at the entrance to the mines, Centiel approached the first empty monitor, and signed in using the 8-digit code that identified her. Immediately, a window popped up on the screen, and absent-mindedly, she pressed it. Immediately, she regretted her decision. What had once been a small, discrete message grew in size until it took up half the screen, and the signature at the bottom told her that this was definitely not something that others should see.

Scrambling to shrink the message back to its original size, Centiel glanced over her shoulder to check that no-one had seen. Several feet away was one of the Sentinels on guard duty, but luckily, he appeared distracted by another miner. Sighing, she skimmed the note she had been sent.



It was happening. This was what she'd been waiting for. Although she knew very little of the plan that the person calling themself "The Agent" had in mind, she and the other miners (along with almost all of the humans in the facility, she was sure), had been swapping information whenever they could, and stashing away anything they could think of that might help when the uprising started. Mostly crude knives made from rock, or tools that had "gone missing", but some low-grade explosives were also among the supplies hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the mines.

During her time on the asteroid, Centiel had also met Al. Missing his right arm from the elbow, Al was one of the oldest miners she had come across, almost 34. The story of his lost limb changed each time someone asked, and he wore a useless prosthetic shaped into a mockery of the real thing. He would have been 'retired' from the mines years ago, except that he was as strong with his left arm as he had been with his right. And Al knew things about the upcoming coup, he'd even once let slip that he'd been in contact with The Agent personally.

No-one had gotten details out of him, but recently he'd been giving hints that things were starting to heat up, and Centiel felt that today of all days, she'd do well to find him and stick close. She wanted to be with someone who knew what was going on when the chaos started.

Sora had been living with the Sentinel, Davor, for a few months now. It had been an awkward transition from the sparse laboratory room which fulfilled her basic needs to the lavish suite which made her feel spoiled. She knew not what to do with herself when she first arrived.

The room was mostly white with various decor and bits of red thrown in. It seemed the room could be divided into three, and white flowing curtains that could act as the dividers. The bath was on the far right with a large freestanding tub, a vanity table to its right and a basin to its left. The center appeared more… well she did not know what exactly only that it had a nice sofa, with an odd looking canvas behind it, and a large pillow on the ground to relax upon as an alternative to the bed; it was also convent when Davor wanted to talk to her, he had a place to sit and she had a place to sit! A sitting room perhaps? Finally the left side of the room was the bedroom. The sheets were white with plenty of soft plush pillows, a fireplace at the head of the bed, a large mirror opposite with a room partition though it did not offer much privacy, and a large window to allow light in. The window had no glass, she did not really know what it was exactly as her knowledge on the way technology worked was limited. It simply created a barrier against the elements but still allowed for a breeze to flow into the room. The window also held an intricate web of design on it, that created beautiful shadows and figures. Although she did not realize they acted as prison bars, and Davor who knew her wings were basically useless still wanted to ensure she could not escape. To ensure her captivity, Davor ensured her suite was constantly locked, and made it known to Sora she could not step foot outside her room without him escorting her.

Despite being confined to a single room most of the time, Sora was not bored. Davor came to her room daily to partake of her company, even if he did not interact with her the entire time. One of the decors the room contained was a tall stack of books. Her reading skills were minimal, but she tried, usually resorting to creating her own narratives or conclusions; it was both an amusement and annoyance to Davor. Although it did not annoy him as much as her trying to play the odd instrument which had been part of the rooms decor. After only a few minutes strumming the strings he removed it from her possession. She should have minded more but he easily placated her with compliments about her voice. Sora enjoyed creating melodies and dancing to her own creations; she enjoyed it more when performing for the Sentinel. And Davor took immense pleasure in making his pretty song bird sing… in more ways than one.

Thomas was hungry, very, very hungry. He hid himself for what felt like ages. He took in his surroundings; there were steel crates piled seemingly organized, he wondered if some of them contained food, but stopped after a while, as he would not be able to open them anyway. And it would only feed his hunger. The walls where dark gray, and along them, through the iron skids, ran a few cables. Some of which powered the lights on the ceiling which rounded off a little bit to the sides. There were 6 lamps in the space, one of them was flickering, it annoyed Thomas, but he was afraid to alert some of the aliens aboard if he moved too much. Many thoughts crossed his mind, but mostly plans to escape any circumstances he might encounter after the ship landed, maybe he could just simply knock the guards out..

Before he had made up a real plan, and just when he felt his stomachache worsen the ship started shaking. It was landing he realized. Now it all came to patience and swiftness. He got up, as silently as possible walked over to the flickering lamp on the beginning of the cargo space, he waited for the opportune moment, felt the ship slowing down, preparing for the impact of the landing.
As the ship came down with a blow, he smashed the lamp, creating a darker area in the tonnage. Shortly after the tailgate opened and slammed on a rocky ground, two of the collective started unloading.
The third time they walked in, they noticed the lamp was broken, they exchanged a few words then one left and the other one went towards the lamp to check on the damage.

As soon as the alien move out of the light he heard a step beside him, turned his head only to realize he had made a mistake and seeing a steel crate quickly nearing his head, a withe flash and then darkness.

Thomas crawled towards the opening, keeping as low as possible, looked around and didn't see anything too much alive. 'now' he thought. He crawled(he was faster on four limbs since after his 'transformation') to the left, he got out of the shed ran off into the darkness once again. Still incredibly hungry.

After about 20 minutes he saw a facility, there were other (somewhat)human beings. He decided he would spy there, and look if he could at least get some food.

He was about to enter the premises as two big bright light went on and showed him to whoever was behind the lamp, he curled himself to a ball, afraid of the punishment that would definitely follow now, according to all his experiences. But his rational self was somewhere deep within him wondering who could be behind the lamp...

[double post]

For a few hours, Zech worked the ore crushers. His clothes and all his exposed skin had a layer of soot and dust covering it. He didn't mind, though. For months, he had been taking small amounts of coal dust and mining explosives. In his spare time, he'd mix them up, creating a primitive but powerful form of gunpowder. And now every cart he'd been assigned for the past few weeks was laced with it. Today, he put in his finishing touch.

In order for the mixture within the ore to ignite, the temperature had to reach at least 500 degrees Celsius. Fortunately, he had just the thing for the job. C4. He'd hidden a block of C4 inside the storage compound about an hour ago, and on his last trip he'd simply attach a timed detonator and walk away. The resulting explosion would have the explosive force of a few hundred pounds of gunpowder with millions of fragments of ore as shrapnel. From there everything would be up to his captains. The makeshift weapons had been secreted away, most if not all humans in the complex were ready to spring. In 13 minutes and 47 seconds, humans would strike back for the first time in centuries. We will show them that the human spirit will not be dominated.

Work in the mines was, for the most part, hard; dirty, tiring, and hot. Today, although the same, felt different. Centiel could feel a change, and it was clear what it was; the atmosphere. Each new miner to report on duty seemed to arrive with a glow to their face, something she was sure she too had. Centiel hoped that she could only see it because she knew to look.

The message had clearly been sent to every human on this rock, and like her, this was what they had been waiting for. Centiel swung her pick-axe, hardly feeling the effort, too absorbed by her growing anticipation... and anxiety. What if everything fell apart? She knew so little of what was planned, simply that something was going to happen, and that it was going to happen soon; today, if she'd understood the message. She assumed that there were key people positioned around the facility, and that when things kicked off they would know what to do. But what would be expected of her?

Glancing to her right, she caught a glimpse of Al, and a young woman she had seen before but had never formally met. "There'll be a sign," he had said when she'd found him that morning. The look on her face must have given away her fears. So Centiel was sticking to him like glue, and he would know what to do, she was sure of it. The thought settled her stomach, and she swung her pickaxe again. Just keep working, and wait for the sign.

Davor had gone home early, deciding that he had done enough work for the day. He deserved a treat for all the frustrations the day had given him. Right now his only desire was to take pleasure in his song bird. When he walked into the room, he was greeted by the beautiful image of Sora sleeping peacefully on her bed. As he walked up to her bedside, he frowned and nudged one of the many books scattered along the floor around her bed. He hated messes, but he wasn't going to yell at her. Instead Davor sat on the bed and leaned over, his hand brushing back her hair as he whispered her name into her ear.

Sora was a very light sleeper, and woke to the sound of her name. She moaned softly and propped herself up to look at Davor; her right hand coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes. "Master...?" she said drowsily as a small smile started to form across her face. It did not last long as she saw the irritation in his eyes and one of the books she had been reading earlier in his hands. "I'm sorry Master, I fell asleep." Sora's face apologetic and her wings pressing tightly against her back.

What happened next could be seen as an act of punishment or an act of passion, maybe both. Only they would know.

2 minutes. A smile grew on his face as he reached the auxiliary area. It was a huge platform divided into different sections, each with a purpose. A corner of the platform was dedicated to "indoctrinating" new slaves; welcoming them to their new life in the mines.They were put through a cursory glance of a physical examination before assigned their camps and number. The rest of the platform was a staging area where cargo was prepped for transport off-rock or equipment was readied to be sent to other parts of the complex. This bustling platform would be his stage for the next few moments.

As far as he knew, there were quite a few Gratch and Fenrir spread through the complex. Given their size and strength, one of each could easily kill twenty or more people before they were brought down... But the humans on this rock outnumbered the Collective almost 40 to one. The facility had roughly 160000 inhabitants, about 5000 of which were collective. The humans had little more to fight with than the mining equipment they managed to steal or improvised contraptions of their own making. They would lose many. That much was a given. But their numbers should be sufficient to take control.

He saw monitors all around him, droning on and on at the jaded masses. "Serve the Collective. We will provide. Work the mines. Bring us ore. Then you may rest. Serve the Collective." The steady, repeated message pressed down like a tangible weight. Listening to it made the air feel thicker, your legs feel heavier, your mind number. Day after day, he watched around him as humans dragged their feet, shuffling from one task to the next. Today was different, though. There was an aura of tension. Everyone was being a little too mindful. Yes. It seemed word had spread, indeed. Now is the time.

He activated the first of a series of programs, and the droning monitors began playing a different sound as well. It was a dull, low, quick sound.
Thun-thun.
Thun-thun.
Thun-thun.
Thun-thun.
Few realized what was happening at first, but as the sound grew in intensity, men and women stared up at the monitors. The Graax taskmaster shouted "Get back to work!" and the sound grew ever louder. It grew louder and louder until it vibrated the very air.
THUN-THUN.
THUN-THUN!
The taskmaster covered his ears, yelling "What is that unbearable noise?!"
His voice amplified by the monitors, Zeck gave the answer while watching the final seconds tick down on his timer. 30 seconds
"That is the sound of a human heartbeat."
THUN-THUN 26 seconds
"THAT is the sound of centuries of anger pounding against its cage."
THUN-THUN 21 seconds
"THAT is the sound that will put fear into the hearts of those who wish to put us in chains"
THUN-THUN 15 seconds
"THAT IS THE SOUND OF THE SECOND HUMAN RESISTANCE!"
THUN-THUN 11 seconds
"And... If that's not enough for you... I've got another sound for you in just a few seconds. All doors have been unlocked. Go and fight for your freedom."
Two... One.

The sky takes on an orange hue. A concussive wave rattles the windows of the building. The sound is incomparable to any of the controlled mining explosions they'd heard. Before the wave is even past, the several of the monitors shorted out, and lights flicker.

The crowd roars.

Upon hearing the explosion Davor removed himself from a flush and panting Sora. The Sentinel threw the door to the bedroom open and accessed the wall panel near the door in the hallway. Sora confused and a bit frightened took the sheets from around herself and followed him up to the doorway. He wasn't online very long. "What happened?" She asked a bit hesitantly. He continued to frown at the screen. "Nothing. There was a minor incident, it's being handled." Sora looked down at her feet and questionably back at him. She wasn't allowed to leave without permission and despite his close proximity he was in the hallway she was unsure of what to do. Davor noticed the back and forth action and finally took in her appearance. She looked ravished and so much tinier in the large bundle of sheets which protected her modesty. His frustrations seemed to have melted away, or became redirected, as he walked back towards her and picked her up, returning to the bed.

Centiel had been beginning to think that nothing would happen when an explosion finally rocked the mines. This is it! There was a roaring in her ears; at first she thought it was from the aftershock, and then she realised that it was the miners.

She joined the shouting, rushing to one of the many stashes hidden in the stone. Centiel was not the first there - much of the secreted equipment had already been taken - but she was able to find a crude knife cut out of rock, and the broken handle of a pick-axe, sharpened somewhat to a point. The yelling continued, and now she raced toward the entrance; ready to fight. On her way, she passed the broken body of one of the Sentinel guards; from the look of it, the fight had been fairly one-sided.

It seemed that the path to the entrance would be clear, but what of the surface? Gratch and Fenrir also prowled the facility, and although they didn't come into the mines (they were far too big for that), up in the open would be a different matter. She clutched her makeshift weapons tighter as she hurried upwards, and suddenly noticed something. The walls and ceiling around her were shaking. How long had that been happening? Had the explosion started a cave-in? All around her, people were scrambling toward the surface, tripping on the shaky ground, covered in dust and soot.

Hurry! Centiel willed herself. She did not want to get this close only to be killed in the mines anyway. Up ahead, she saw light - but she could also hear roaring again. And this time, it wasn't the explosion or the miners. It was something much worse.

The roars of Gratch and Fenrir filled the air along with the sounds of fighting. Everywhere you looked was a dismembered corpse, a bloody weapon, or some other evidence of violent deaths. He stood in front of a particularly wounded Gratch, its wings and arms pinned by about eight men in all. Its movements were slowing and the men pinning it down repeatedly shanked it with whatever they had, adding to its extensive injuries. In a drawn out, gory final stroke, one of the men on its back plunged his knife into its neck, sawing through his throat until it lay unmoving in its blood.

In moments, the aliens would trigger the automatic defense systems to cull the humans and salvage what they could of their operation. That moment would turn the tide in favor of the humans. He'd rewritten the code for the targeting protocol. It was simple, really. He changed a few lines in the code, flipping all the "yes" targets to "no" targets. Of course, there were the countless firewalls and security measures he'd navigated in the system, but it had become second nature to him, thanks to his computer integrated mind. In addition, it would normally trigger an automatic lockup of all armories around the complex... unless you knew the code. He and his five captains would lead their "troops" into the armories, enter the code, and walk right in. Everything in there would be for the taking... once they got through the guards.

Davor growled in frustration as his communication network went off. He roughly threw Sora off of him and went to go see what those idiots were bothering him with now. If the humans were being this much trouble they should simply turn on the system.

"What?!" he growled into the screen.

"S-someones hacked the systems!" screams could be heard in the background, "The human's hacked the systems!" And before another word could be said, the alien was shot causing the screen to become static.

Davor's eyes narrowed, he had an idea of the bastard worm that did this. He should have killed him when he had the chance. He returned to his slave, retaining his composure. "Stay here..." And he left.

Sora remained confused and began to clean herself up. By the time Davor returned, she was dressed and perched on the edge of the bed. Her master had returned with a case filled with food and water. The one apple he had he gave to her to eat and left again. Sora looked at the cases curiously wondering why he had brought it to her bedroom. When he returned next he had many shiny objects she had never seen before. "What are those?" she asked.

He knelt beside her and gave her a gun, "Protection... If anyone breaks in, kill them.' She stared at him worried, "Kill? Are bad people coming?" Davor nodded and kissed her hands. "Are you going to be okay?" Sora did not want Davor to be hurt. He was her entire world. "I'll be fine... " He got up but before he left, he showed her how to shoot the gun. It wasn't hard, the kickback was almost non existent, and came with a laser sight, so all she had to do was point and shoot. As an extra percussion she was given a knife hidden under the pillow.

As Davor left, he locked the door to her room, taking ease in knowing that her room was not connected to the rest of his home system. His paranoia involving her may have payed off. Davor went to rig his home against intruders. Meanwhle Sora sat nervously on her bed, curled up against the plush pillows, staring at the door waiting for her master to return.

double post - sorry

There was some poking and kicking and then a rough question:
"Who are you? And what are you?"
Thomas still had no idea that the two creatures above him were sentinel.
He dis know however that they couldn't make out yet is he was human or not, which would probably come in handy once again, that being, if he survived this.

"the only goal in life is to keep it and then you die..."

His thoughts were buzzing his mind, he decided he'd turn himself in and see what would happen.
He was taken, pretty roughly now, to some place with other mutant men and woman and he heard that they had to work in the mine.
"Fine by me!" he thought, "as long as they don't start experimenting on me again, it's all okay"
When they entered the mines he heard someone whisper'are you ready yet?'

"ready for what?" he plainly asked
'shhhh, be silent, we're going to take back what belongs to us men' the same whispering voice replied.

Whatever was going on, Thomas didn't feel right about it, he was still tired and he wanted to rest and some revolution was sparking...

A big explosion, everything was blurry, people shouting and grabbing all kinds of weapons.
Thomas followed the horde sometimes crawling the wall, someone handed him a shoveltip and a piece of rope.
He bound it to his wrist so when he made a fist, it would stick out as a sort of claw.
"To battle" he thought reluctantly.

It was the end of yet another fine day. Gubuloor was feeling blue; as usual. Whenever Gubuloor felt down he would get lost in his thoughts. He would think up brilliant and heroic plans to turn his luck around and maybe change his lot in life. He would daydream about his ideal future life which entailed working out regularly at the local fitness centre, meeting a cute young female graax who was still in her first decade (with flattering curves to boot), and maybe getting a job in the human pet industry.

He personally didn’t agree with the human pet industry, let alone the human slavery industry but alas there was nothing anyone can do about it. It wasn’t like anyone cared enough to do anything about it anyway. He had an active human rights blog for the past five earth years now, with regular weekly updates. Despite all that time he only gathered a dozen followers. The comments from his followers dwindled year after year. Sure the troll comments always outnumbered the supportive comments but that never bothered Gubuloor before. It was the dwindling show of support that bothered him then.

Sometimes he entertained fantasies about being rich enough to buy a human pet. He loved human children in particular. He would teach it how to read, play mock battles with it that re-enacted the battles from its colourful history, and all kinds of human child shenanigans. Maybe, just maybe, that child would become a true friend. Maybe, just mayb-

“Hey Glooby!”

Gubuloor was awoken from his reverie. He was outside the entrance of the insurance building in which he worked. He looked up and to the left. There he stood the one who obnoxiously greeted him, the office douchebag.

“Hey Flagbarg” replied Gubuloor in a bored tone

“Listen mate, I have a favour to ask you” said Flagbarg in earnest.

Gubuloor wasn’t surprised in the least. Flagbarg only spoke to him when he needed a favour. That’s why he earned the title of douchebag; in Gubuloors mind at least. He let out an exasperated sigh “what is it now Flagbarg?” he asked.

“Hey don’t be like that. I thought we were buddies” said Flagbarg, obviously feigning shock.

“Ok I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. The boss chewed me out for something that wasn’t even my fault. I submitted the insurance claim report on time she specified but the foolish customer wrote down the wrong numbers on their form and guess what? I didn’t go through!” ranted Gubuloor. He felt better letting it out of his system.

“Wow dude that sucks” replied Flagbarg. “You know what they say about female graax in their second decade”.

Gubuloor and Flagbarg chuckled together for a moment. Gubuloor chuckled uneasily.

“ Anyway Glooby, I need you to finish the rest of my report on the Duvork insurance claim. I would do it myself but I’m too busy trying to wrangle in a new customer. This is a big one Glooby, he’s one of the major human slave traders!”

Gubuloor physically blanched. As much as he was against human slavery he had to admit that this was a great boon for his department. Maybe if he played his cards right he may get a pay raise. If that happened he could finally start saving up for his big move into his dream career. Moving town and taking an intensive course in human pet management wasn’t cheap. But then again he knew that Flagbarg was one to make wild claims in order to trick people into doing whatever he wanted them to do. Indeed that was his ace in the hole when it came to sales. Nevertheless Gubuloor decided to believe him this time out of hope and desperation.

“Alright Flagbarg It’ll be done by next week, you can count on it”.

“Thanks buddy! You’re a legend you know that!? There’s nobody else I would have in my corner than you. I really mean that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You better be right about this big client though. If this is another tall tale then that’s it. No more favours from me”.

“Cross my heart and hope to die” replied Flagbarg. A smarmy grin spread across his face.

“See you next week Flagbarg” said Gubuloor as he began his descent down the steps.

“See ya champ!” Flagbarg called out from behind.

A few blocks down the street Gubuloor boarded the metro to his residential area. He lost himself in thought once more on the ride home.

The entire time that Davor was rigging up traps for any intruders, he was imaging the gruesome death he would give that human cyber brain; Zyph, Seth, something. He could not be bothered to learn the names of pathetic humans. He had noticed when the human's will outmatched the chip in his head, but he had paid no mind to it. Everyone's will broke eventually... except that one's. He always felt like the worm was up to something, although he never could tell what, and he was not down at the mines often enough to keep a closer eye. After thinking so furiously on the matter he paused and a moment of clarity appeared. That worm had a chip in his brain, even if the human had hacked it or overpowered it, couldn't it be possible to reboot the chip to take over again? But how to go about doing that..... If nothing else, he still took pleasure in the idea of physically ripping the human limb from limb. While thinking about all his various plans, Davor went to look over his security system for any bugs or signs of hacking. If the weapons systems at the mines were hacked, there also remained a chance the home security system may have been also.

He looked at the mountains of bodies already piling up. Thousands dead in a matter of minutes. Shot through the head, stabbed in vital points, dismembered... and tossed into ever growing piles of flesh. It was necessary. We needed cover. The bodies stacked up like sandbags were a good way to push the front lines. He wished he had the time to hack every system and turn every ounce of firepower onto the Collective bastards... He could never get in range of a few... One of which he knew would be a problem. One Sentinel, Davor, had his quarters on a separate system. It most likely had comm links and other backup systems. That would be one of the most important targets. He began making his way towards the Sentinel's quarters, newly armed with a pulse assault rifle and a plasma cutter. Today was the day he'd finally end this bitter antagonistic relationship... He continued to calculate the odds of his winning, and he didn't like the odds.