From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth

Chapter 189: FAFO
The unnatural gloom that had blanketed the Western Hemisphere began to lift, slowly, tentatively, as the last of the Krill 54th Battlefleet’s crippled vessels vanished into the void. In cities across the USA, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Uruguay, and Argentina, a collective, ragged roar of cheers erupted from streets and makeshift shelters. People stumbled out, blinking against the returning sunlight, embracing strangers, tears of relief and sheer exhaustion streaming down their faces. The air, still thick with the acrid scent of ozone and burning metal, felt lighter.

”They’re gone! They’re actually gone!” a woman sobbed in downtown Rio de Janeiro, clutching her two children to her chest, her voice choked with overwhelmed disbelief.

Above them, the combined defense force, consisting of Task Forces of ANV and UEDP fleets, now shifted its focus entirely to ground support. ”All units, consolidate positions!” General Dempsey’s voice, hoarse but triumphant, crackled over the comms. ”Air support is now fully engaged on ground targets! Krill ground forces are abandoned, repeat, abandoned!” It was a hard-won, but incomplete, victory. The immediate shift of focus to ground operations highlighted the seamless coordination established just hours ago.

In the shattered urban landscape of Los Angeles, the chaos of the initial ground invasion was turning. Krill ground forces, abandoned by their retreating command, showed clear signs of disorganization. Their energy shields, while still effective against conventional rounds, are now flickering more frequently under sustained fire.

An Android Marine, its sleek, dark form moving with ruthless efficiency, pivoted, its SPX-88 plasma rifle humming. ”Target acquired. Shield integrity at 47%. Engaging with plasma. Enemy neutralized,” its monotone voice stated over the comms, as a bolt of blue energy sizzled through a Krill warrior’s shield, causing the reptilian body to writhe before collapsing.

Nearby, Sergeant Miller, wiping sweat from his brow, watched the Android Marine work. ”These things,” he muttered, his voice filled with awe, ”they’re tearing through them! We finally have a chance!” His own squad, now equipped with TRC-supplied plasma rifles, were pushing back the Krill with renewed vigor, their shots finding purchase where before they had merely sparked. TRC’s quick response forces moved rapidly into cities needing reinforcements, their DSTR - Meteor Class destroyers providing overhead fire support, suppressing Krill temporary strongholds with surgical precision. The ground combat was still brutal, but the tide had irrevocably turned.

Back in the UEDP command center, the map of the Western Hemisphere slowly, painstakingly, turned from red to amber. The Western Hemisphere was declared largely clear of active Krill ground forces, save for ”a few cleaning” operations.

But then, the casualty reports began to filter in. A UEDP Analyst, her voice somber, read the grim statistics. ”General, preliminary casualty estimates for the Western Hemisphere are... staggering. Civilian and military casualties losses are in hundreds of thousands. Military units sustained upwards of 60% losses in initial engagements.”

General Dempsey closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of pain crossing his face before his resolve hardened. ”Understood. Begin immediate humanitarian aid and recovery operations. Mr. Santamo,” he said, turning his gaze to Richard’s image on the screen, ”your forces were instrumental in preventing a complete massacre. We owe you a debt.”

Richard’s aura pulsed faintly, a subtle inclination of his head his only acknowledgment. ”The debt is to humanity, General. The fight is far from over.” The grim reality of the invasion hung heavy in the air. Despite the victory, the cost was immense, reinforcing the stakes and the desperate need for continued, unified action.

Thousands of miles away, high above the Eastern Hemisphere, the Krill War Command room of a 55th Battlefleet Mothership presented a stark contrast. This room was far less chaotic, displaying green tactical markers and steady progress. Admiral Z’thar, a larger, more confident Krill admiral, observed the tactical map with a low rumble of satisfaction. He had heard the reports of the 54th Battlefleet’s retreat, but he didn’t even budge. Weakness. His forces were dominating.

”Admiral, ground forces in Berlin report 80% city control. Harvest operations commencing. Resistance minimal,” a Krill Officer reported, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

”Excellent,” Admiral Z’thar rumbled. ”Maintain pressure. The Western forces are weak-willed. We will show the Emperor true progress.”

Meanwhile, on the ground in a war-torn Moscow, UEDP forces were struggling. ”Their shields are holding! We need more firepower! We’re being overwhelmed!” a UEDP Eastern Commander screamed over the comms, his voice laced with frustration and despair. The sky above them was still choked with Krill drones, and the streets below were a meat grinder.

A Russian T-90 MBT rumbled down a debris-strewn street, its heavy cannon swiveling. ”Shields holding! Keep firing! Keep firing!” the T-90 Gunner strained, his voice raw, as shells hammered against a Krill warrior’s energy shield. After a consistent, brutal barrage, the shield finally shattered, and the reptilian creature fell, its body riddled with shrapnel. ”Got one! But it took six rounds!”

In the skies above Beijing, Chinese J-20s engaged Krill drone swarms, their advanced weaponry proving more effective than older models, but they were still facing overwhelming numbers. The sky was a chaotic dance of explosions and near misses, a testament to their skill, but also to the sheer, unyielding resilience of the Krill.

Back in the TRC Command, Lina’s synthesized voice cut through the hum of the Amazonian base. The global map now highlighted the Eastern Hemisphere’s dire situation, a sea of red. The Cerberus Lance Mass Driver, having completed its strike on the 54th Battlefleet’s escort, was now quick to change targets. Based on TRC’s satellite sensor suites, Lina identified new, critical targets on the other side of the world.

”Sir, the 55th Battlefleet’s transport carriers are prioritizing poorly defended evacuation zones in Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia. High volume of civilian extraction detected,” Lina reported, her efficiency unwavering even as the grim reality of her words settled.

The Cerberus Lance fired again, its colossal thrum shaking the base. Its projectile arced across the globe, a glowing spear of vengeance, striking Krill warships and drone swar carriers with devastating precision, helping to repel them. However, despite the orbital intervention, many Krill transports managed to snag citizens from poorly defended evacuation zones. Horrifying scenes flashed across Richard’s internal displays: humans, terrified and disoriented, being herded into the cavernous holds of Krill transport ships, their cries swallowed by the alien vessels. The Krill’s primary objective, their gruesome harvest, continued.

Richard watched the grim reports from the Eastern Hemisphere, particularly the civilian extractions. A subtle manifestation of the rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked on the massive Krill Motherships, still high in orbit, acting as command centers and, he knew, processing hubs.

”Lina, new directive,” Richard’s voice was cold and firm, cutting through the ambient hum. ”Target the Mothership escorts. I repeat, do not damage the Motherships themselves.”

Lina’s holographic display showed the Motherships, then highlighted their escorts. ”Acknowledged, sir. Prioritizing escort vessels. May I inquire as to the rationale for avoiding the primary Mothership targets?” her synthesized voice queried, a hint of analytical curiosity in her tone.

Richard’s voice was heavy with grim intent. ”The citizens are there, Lina. They are currently captured. We will avoid mass casualties. These vessels are not just warships; they are holding facilities. We need to preserve them for later recapture mission.”

Lina added, her gaze still fixed on the Krill Motherships, ”Sir, may I suggest bio-weapons? The pathogens are designed to inflict damage on Krill species, it’s designed to inflict less damage on captured humans. At most, they will suffer colds, fever, and cough.”

Richard thought about it for a moment, his aura pulsing with intense calculation. ”Hmm... do it. Prepare the 10th ANV fleet for boarding, but clear the escorts first.”

”Acknowledged,” Lina confirmed, her systems already re-tasking. With the help of TRC sensor suites and precise targeting, the Cerberus Lance fired a barrage of slugs on the Mothership escort ships.

Aboard the 55th Battlefleet’s Mothership, Admiral Z’thar watched with growing alarm as the tactical display, previously green with success, began to flash red around his escort ships. ”What is this?!” he bellowed, his confidence rapidly eroding. ”Our escorts are being destroyed too quickly! Order a full retreat! Get us out of here!”

As the Mothership began its lumbering turn, a series of impacts shuddered through its colossal hull. Not devastating explosions, but solid thuds, as several glowing slugs from the Cerberus Lance embedded themselves deep within the plating. From these newly embedded projectiles, small slots hissed open, and a thick, gaseous smoke of airborne pathogens, a specialized virus, began to spew into the pressurized compartments.

Almost immediately, Krill crews in the lower compartments began to experience symptoms. A Krill officer outside the locked bridge doors clutched his throat, his scales turning a mottled grey. ”Admiral! I... I can’t breathe!” He gasped, his multi-jointed limbs spasming.

”What is this foul air?!” an officer roared, his own breathing becoming ragged, a burning sensation in his throat. His vibrant green scales seemed to dull, and small, angry red pox began to erupt on his skin.

The war command quickly evacuate the Mothership, scrambling for emergency shuttles as the insidious chemical began to flood the lower compartments, steadily heading towards the middle and bridge sections. They were astounded and shocked by it.

For many years, they had been subjected to various chemicals for resistance, built up immunities from countless conquered worlds. But now, their very bodies jotted out red pox before dying, their reptilian forms writhing in agony.

The Mothership, a symbol of Krill might, was abandoned, its vast interior slowly filling with the silent, deadly gas. Moments later, ten human ships—the sleek Meteor Class Destroyers—warped out of real space near the abandoned Mothership, where they began boarding insertions.

Admiral Z’thar and General Mat’ar watched from their shuttle ships, speeding towards the Luna Station where other battleships, also in retreat, and the scattered remnants of their fleet gathered. ”They... they used a plague,” Mat’ar rasped, still coughing, the red pox spreading across his face. ”Unthinkable!”

Richard’s voice, cold and clear, cut through the comms on their emergency frequency, a final, chilling message. ”This is a warning. This is what ’fuck around and find out’ means for an empire that harvests souls.”

Then, Richard’s final order was given. The Cerberus Lance projectile, still circling Earth, began to target the last retreating battleship. The slugs penetrated the drive and their reactor core, turning the fleeing vessel into a drifting lifeless vessel.