2779 - A tale of Harry

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It's the year 2779, Harry is a 20 something guy trying to make a living as a bot-operator at the northern galactic docks of Luna 275. Things are going as usual, the cyberdon's are a bit slower today but they've been glithcing the whole week, and hey, the less can be blamed on him for the fuckups.
Just on the way to pick up a new load from the storage a blast shakes up the entire platform and Harry's Tron-class bot with Harry untied flies a 90 meters accross the dock and crushes into a Wormphaunt, killing all in it. Harry is flung out of the pod half way through and lands in the freezing water's of 275, his helmet's glass cracked and water slowly making its way to his nose and mouth. Harry is twisting and turning, screaming his longs out, the suit is too heavy, he'll sink soon enough.. Flashes of lashing bright light take over his mind as the cold paralyzes his limbs, and numbing him to all sensation of touch by blowing his neural fuse. Harry can't breathe, it will be over soon. Harry stops fighting.Harry is no more.


Harry opens his eyes and catches glimps of a battlefield stretched for miles accross an unfamiliar terrain below. The snow is falling thick, the wind violently shaking the airborne vehicle he's in, but no-one below seems to be paying attention. "Stealthmode.." he mumbles.."or we're the friendlies.."
The battle-drones are of a different league than Harry has been seeing in the news lately. Their shell shield's pulsing a dim red glow as they move slowly against the wind blasts.. the snow never touches them, it vapourizes at first contact. Suddenly one of the shield's bursts with light upon being hit by a purple plasma beam, momentarily blinding Harry.

As he covers his eyes the words escape him in amazement:
"That can't be... Those can't be manned, they would be inoperable on sight..." His attention suddenly shifiting to a massive blast of sound somewhere behind him, somewhere out of sight.. Stupified by the alarming intensity and complexity of what he heard Harry tries to turn but his body is tightly secured to a device of some sort. Harry looks down and gasps.

Instead of his body, Harry sees a robotic prothese, one of the sort he has not seen in use before. The design is near human in shape, but shows no intention to mimmic it fully. Instead of the usual  skin-like covers, slim white plates give shape to his legs, now reflecting the red bursts of the energy field from the battle-drones. Same goes for the majority of his body.. It all looks like a prototype he's seen at the E.S.P. stand some two years ago. He tries to move the exo-skeletton but something is  wrong. he can't feel the limbs as he ought to.. He remembers that the neural connection will only be activated at the training brief. Harry is proud of himself, he didn't lose it like the most other times..

He's getting better at this and is now looking forward to what lies ahead. Death greeted him cold on 275, but it's over now, he won't feel that for a while. Harry is a Lousta-soldier now.
As his thoughts quickly settle, his eyes slowly turn to the battlefield...The sound has subdued...

The distance is now greater physcially but even more so in Harry's mind.. the perspective leaving him in awe. Before disecting his new reality, Harry focuses on the scene..

Thousands upon thousands of unfamiliar smaller battle-bots race accross the snowy planes, jetting to their demise so it seems as the remnants of earlier swarms lie scattered in hundreds of thousands, now lit by the passing lights of the new. The larger ones move slowly, taking aim at something out of sight for Harry.

"They're so much bigger, they must be.. at least 200 times the size of  the crawlers in volume... but to what use.. what use for the crawlers?"

He didn't wait much for the answer . As the craft went higher, Harry caught sight of something so astonishingly beautiful, something so out of place that he gawked with a faint smile curling his at his lips.. The outer lines of the speeding bots were catching fire as they went and were after a while blown high in the air as balls of flame, being pushed backwards by the wind and snow, turning wildly and sissing as fire met water, giving them a trail of mistflakes. A moment after another large explosion sent Harry's eyes in search of something far off, but this time he saw the landscape lit up at the outmost left where his view was blocked by the  inner shell of the aircraft.. It was deffening, but what struck him was the synthesis of the sound of an explosion with something of organic originin.. something beastlike, filled with rage and horror. He wanted to duck, see what it was, but was again reminded of his immobility.

The craft then went upwards again and sped up in a different direction so fast that all below became something of a blur and Harry dropped his head backwards, puzzled but confident he'll know more sooner than later. Now, first.. the briefing.