>The year is 2370.
>Faster-than-light quantum travel exists.
>Humanity left Earth a long time ago.
>Spreading amongst the stars, the previously united World Government crumbled beneath thousands of colonized worlds.
>Humanity, being the fucked up species it is, starts killing each other for fucking retarded reasons.
>Casualties are in the hundreds of trillions, entire worlds are completely wiped out.
>Clones quickly replace regular soldiers, becoming pawns in the intergalactic game.
>You are Anonymous.
>One such pawn.
 
 
>You tap your controls, making sure that your flight computer was synced to the rest of the fleet.
>Your combat drone is made for drilling into enemy ships and unloading its cargo: you.
>You're equipped with an enormous combat suit, armed with a dozen weapons, tools, and gadgets.  You're easily eight feet tall at full height.
>You feel safe: the armor plating on the suit could withstand meteor impacts, absolute zero temperatures, and temperatures in excess of ten thousand degrees.
>It's also fucking heavy, at least a ton, though it could assist you in moving around.
>It covers your entire body, there are no viewports, and only a pair of glowing blue optics arrays adorns the rusty brown coat of paint.  The colour of rocks and asteroids they called it.
>T-MINUS FIFTEEN SECONDS.
>Your armored gauntlets squeeze the restraints.
>You were grown for this.  Your only purpose in life is war.
>TEN SECONDS.
>You slow your breathing.  Quantum folding was always a rough ride.
>Your heartrate slows.
>FIVE SECONDS.
>The white spines that accompany a jump poke outwards at the ships and drones around you.
>Time starts to slow down, the clock slows to a crawl.
>THREE.
>You blink your eyes.  You'd done this kind of mission so many times before.
>Get in, kill the crew, and get out.
>Simple.
>TWO.
>You check over your suit's readouts.
>Everything looks fine.
>You were born for this.
>Your entire life revolved around the taking of others.
>ONE.
>Huge spines tapered off from everywhere.  The universe seemed to crack and fall in on itself.
>Ships around your drone fall into the blinding white light.
>WHITE.
 
 
>Suddenly you're in the clear.
>Ships are all around you.  The jump went fine.
>You spot the enemy ahead, and your drone identifies the target ship.
>An enormous battleship: its hull bristles with all the latest weaponry.
>The biggest bastard in the enemy fleet.
>Cannons poofed silently in the darkness.
>Your drone surges forward to the command ship.
>You grip your harness again: the target had begun to try to take out the incoming drones.
>There were thousands like yours.  Even with fighters, they couldn't hope to kill everyone.
>Your drone weaved to the left, avoiding a huge combat suit floating freely in space.
>A fighter began trying to take down your pod.
>Your restraints tinge and squeal beneath your crushing grip.
>The battleship opens fire.
>A purple-black cloud leaking white spines screams towards your pod.
>You were just a pawn in a game.
>Your computer helpfully informs you that a quantum event horizon is inbound.
>They didn't care if you lived or died.  Just that the job got done.
>Even the enemy didn't care... their own fighters erupted beneath this angry anti-fire.
>You were born for this.
>And you'd die for this.
>The haze consumed your pod.
>Everything went black.
 
 
>You can dimly hear an automated female voice.
>TX-7 COMBAT BOOT PROTOCOLS INITIATED.
>REACTOR: ONLINE.
>SENSORS: ONLINE.
>WEAPONS: ONLINE.
>ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.
>CORRECTION: DAMAGE DETECTED, GENERATING REPORT. . .
>SENSOR DAMAGE DETECTED: PRECISE LIFE SIGN DETECTION STATUS LIMITED.
>REPORT: REMOTE DETECTION OF LIFE SIGNS LIMITED TO FIFTEEN METERS IN LEFT AND FRONTAL CONES DUE TO DAMAGE.
>ARMOR DAMAGE DETECTED: SELF REPAIR SUITE DAMAGED.
>REPORT: FINE METALLICS UNABLE TO BE PROCESSED, MECHANISM REPAIR PROBLEMATIC.  PLEASE SEE REPAIR OFFICER FOR MAINTENANCE.
>OCCUPANT LIFE SIGNS FAILING.
>REBOOTING.
>A surge of pain arcs across your body.
>REBOOT SUCCESSFUL.
>SLAM!
>A male voice responds to your pod slamming into something.
>ACCESS LANDING SUCCESSFUL.  DELIVERING PAYLOAD.
>You're thrown from your pod by the system's ejection seat, and you fall face first on the ground.
>You're still dazed, but you notice something.
>The ground, not a ship's deck.
>The blast must have pushed you off course and landed you on the planet below.
>You strain and push your massive suit's weight upwards.  It responds to your movement by helping you rise to your feet.
>You look at the scene in front of you.
>Sunshine, grass, some trees and mountains in the background.
>No, this wasn't the planet below.  Otherwise you'd be in the middle of a desert.
>Where the hell were you?
>SEARCHING SURVEY ARCHIVES.
>Gotta love quantum computing.
>You wait a few seconds... such a search shouldn't take this long.
>NO RESULTS FOUND.
>Great.  Stranded on planet butt-fuck nowhere.
>You see smoke rising in the distance, and angular purple spikes jutting from the ground.
>An enemy fighter.  You also notice the canopy has been popped.
>CLANK!
>SCREEEEEEECH.
>The pilot had snuck up behind you and slammed your back with something.  It sounded like he was trying to penetrate your back reactor.
>THUMPH. You move to turn around.
>Your blink at the HUD in front of you and select your arm-blade.  Twenty inches of solid steel slide forward and lock into place over each of your arms.
>THUMPH-THUMPH.  You spin as quickly as you can and slice downwards.
>The spindly pilot dives out of the way, a length of fighter armor in his hands.
>You twist your other arm to skewer him, but again he leaps out of the way so you stab thin air.
>It was going to be one of those fights.
 
 
>After half an hour, the end of this fight is nowhere in sight.
>The guy in front of you didn't have the power to damage you, and you didn't have the speed to get near him.  Your weapons were designed for tight hallways and horrific terror, not an open field.
>You decide to try something.
>You stop moving, not following the man circling counter clockwise around you.
>You hope this stupid tactic works.
>Your life sign detector shows his blip moving towards your left side.
>You blink through your weapon menu, and select your flame thrower.
>It shoots sickly goo, which heated up to burst into flames, then supercooled and exploded, dousing the flames after they had scorched everything.  An open flame on a ship was a bad thing if the intent was capture, so this design helped in that regard.
>And you wouldn't hurt the pweddy widdle wandscape.
>The man circled out of your left cone, and you hear a sickening grinding sound from your back.  He was close enough.
>THUMPHTHUMPH.
>He scarcely had time to dive backwards and land on his ass.
>You burn a quarter tank of fuel to roast him.
>TERROR LEVEL: 7.  RECOMMEND PUSHING ENEMIES CLOSER TOGETHER TO ACHIEVE HIGHER MORALE DROP.
>Your suit explained how corralling your foes together would have been a better use of resources, and that such a tactic would demoralize enemy troops.
>Your suit still thought that it was attacking a ship.
"Cease enemy morale protocols."
>DONE.
>You really didn't need your suit giving you 7 out of 100 and berating you after such a prolonged fight.
>You trudge over to the smoking wreck that used to be a machine of war.  It looked like the pilot had tried everything to get the transceiver working, but he hadn't gotten a signal.
>No signal?
>You thought intergalactic communication always had a signal.
>You really were on planet butt-fuck nowhere.
>You change the signal to emit one friendly to you and step down.  It was a long shot, but, maybe someone would pick it up.
>POPULACE DETECTED.
>So planet nowhere had nobodies living on it.  Good.
"Plot course."
>After a brief moment, your suit automatically turned you and lumbered off into the grassy field.  It walked for you so that you could save your strength.  
>You took that moment to shut your eyes for a moment.  Almost getting killed did a number on how awake you felt.
 
>WARNING, UNIDENTIFIED LIFE FORMS DETECTED.
"SHIT."
>You stir yourself awake.  Unidentified life was ALWAYS bad.  
>You remembered those slugs from your training vids and how they melted through armor and clothing to feed on bodily fluids.
>Your suit had followed a beaten path through the field, apparently it was one well-travelled.
>The optics suite couldn't give you a good look just yet.
>You unconsciously bring forth your arm blades.
>You THUMPH forward into the grass, slowly venturing towards the life ahead.  
>The long blades played hell on your optic sensors: it couldn't give you a clear picture of what you were about to come across.
>Then the path twisted.
>You got a good look at what was in front of you.  Maybe twenty meters ahead.
>It definitely wasn't a slug.