Glory was working the guns, she had lived through animal attacks before. She had weathered raids and pirates descending from the trade routes. She knew that sometimes your fellow people could be the greatest danger of all.

And she had heard first hand accounts from refugees of dragons. Yet she was not prepared. The first attacks had been the roars, fear and panic and contemptuous disregard for giving away their position.

Arrogant beasts!

To arms had gone the tight beams of her fellow vets and the pups and volunteers! Flurry and activity, throwing themselves into the bunkers and gun baskets in the upper floors. She watched on the green lit screens the targeting arrays for her own battery of missiles. They had built these weapons for these days. To deter the less kind people, to turn away the pests and beasts of the reef.

Now vapor exhaust from thousands of the Anti-Astro missiles spread across the void converging on where the monsters screamed in long light over the fields, open and exposed, dancing and teasing the fringe watch and their smaller armaments.

The flares of light from rail guns spearing white hot lines as they burned through the exhaust. Rapid covering fire to try and corral the enemy. The dragons were so distant as to be only specks on her read out and target acquisition screen. But there were only a few dozen of the dragons. She felt a warm pride in her artificial symbiote line rigging her to the buildings reserve oxygen and glucose stores. How could they possibly fail to miss when they enveloped the targets with atomic munitions?

The flashes and waves of static rattling and distorted her screen long seconds after the actual detonations had occurred. Speaking to the incredible distance and excellent early warning of their scouts. Bolstering her with the foolishness of simple beasts to have announced themselves so blatantly with such a small pack.

The interference from the AA-Missile exhaust and the disarray of the light shock filled her screen with static and echoes. The gnomes were on it though! Clever little sprats fixing any burnt or damaged circuits from the blast exhaust. Even without eyes on effect Glory was confident, she knew they had enough time and even if some had survived they had a dozen more volleys of equal measure in the launch tubes and more besides in reserve!

Then space giggled. It was there in her head, right behind her eye, light bubbling in a delighted and youthful tone.

“FoOlisH onE wHo caLLs HeRseLf gLorY. ONly YOU aRe a beASt hEre!”

She flipped to all hands broadcast.

“Info Security Comped! Repeat! Compromised channels!”

Was that still quite right? The voice was in her mind, not the coms. But it was the closest protocol to fitting.

Calls went out from the other turrets and missile towers. Some confirmed and repeated they too had compromised messages, presumably like her. Others simply copied as was protocol and doctrine. It was a simple code but it informed her that she was not alone.

“oH bUt YoU wIlL bE!”

It rattled her but she focused her eye on the display as it had finally stopped warbling and fizzing with static and echoes from long light reflect- NO! That was wrong how did they?! “All missiles, close quarters yield! HOSTILES IN TOWN PERIMETER!” What happened to the border watch towers where had they gone!? She spotted the black and red pulse of dead hard line connections! All gone?! every single border and watch tower over the fields had been taken out while the main towers were blinded by light shock!

The light in her head was laughing like a child, like an infant playing with a ball for the first time. Delighted and shrill and discordant.

The dozen or so contacts were right on top of them now! Swooping through at an absurd speed between the towers and silos. Missiles let fly and crossed one another, their detonation yields cut to almost nothing to avoid destroying the very buildings they defended! Sparks and flashes of light shock in close proximity now! Near constant blasts of static on her screen. Buildings flashing in black silhouette as the searing heat of the missile detonations overloaded the contrast equalizers!

That one had been a direct hit. Any thing of flesh, even a million times the size would have been a cloud of powdery ash. Yet this thing had not a scratch, it hadn't bothered even trying to dodge. And then, she remembered, that ridiculous and absurd legend a trader had told her so long ago.

“SWITCH TO ANTI ARMOR RAIL GUNS ON TARGETS! TRACK FOR EFFECT! DRILL AND SHELL BUSTING MUNITIONS!”

The things were sweeping around them flying faster then their missiles could manage, arcing and spinning on to swoop around corners! Missiles trying to track them either swerved up into the empty void over the city or disastrously smashed into defensive positions and exploded. Rupturing the interiors and killing the crews and gunners. Leaving just the gutted shell of the structure drifting apart without its skeleton.

And then it was upon her.

Her station was buried inside a tower, halfway down and shielded by lead and armour. But the thing was spearing right at her, not the cameras of her viewfinders, not the long light echo dishes. Right to where she was locked into her bunker!

It was sleek and solid, a sheet of rippling black spines looking like soft flesh and not the impossible armor she knew it to be and then sudden changing shape between a dozen whirling single edged blades, threshing through her tower and then noise, icy cold, rubble, terrible light screaming in her head and then a burst of dust and heat as it passed. All of her screens were dead, she could see with her own eyes the devastation and desolation of the defenders of the city through the gaping chasm it had left behind it.

She turned her eye around to survey the entire extent of the damage to her tower. She was totally unhurt. It had cleaved through the building and cut it in half with enough force that the upper levels were rupturing and flying apart into the void above. It had all taken less than a heartbeat ago she had been a warrior in the center of her fortifications connected to the defense and rallying the greatest instruments of destruction known to the Town.

Now she was a lost and fragile field worker exposed in open void chained to the life support of a mortally wounded building.

And then the thing which had exposed her swooped lazily, slowly back around, shedding the exhaust of their useless missiles as it had the hard armour of her ‘bunker’.

Coming into full view right before her.

The thing resembled illustrations she had seen of void craft more than an animal, but there was nothing machine-like about it the appearance of even what was clearly rocket exhaust nozzles, guns of some kind, and laser targeting arrays. Twelve horrid mouths opened simultaneously in it's underside, and from them snaked twenty four ropelike tongues covered in barbed hooks.

“ThAt WaS fUn, TiMe FoR sNaCk!”

She was cut off, her coms were smashed and scattered parts, the clouds of exhaust blocked her own internal transmission system.

She flexed her arm to reach the detonation switch for her station.

But the tendrils were too fas-