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Cortex Command

I had lost my left arm in a salvo of automatic cannon fire while crossing the green fields surrounding this bunker complex. Thank the Great Programmers for deciding ambidexterity was important.

Under a hail of high explosive rocket fire, I found myself thanking the random events which had led to this planet’s soil being heavily encrusted with incredibly dense minerals. Dirt is nice. Minerals far harder than Friedrich Mohs’ reckoning could have imagined have saved me repeatedly.

A carpet of bodies covered the mountain ridge. A littering of machine parts jammed the bunker’s tunnels. The sky was blackened with smoke and chaotic with spiraling debris.

The weight of my weapons was overloading my jetpack. I didn’t have much time. Soon, the pigs would be closing in. The clones, the droids, the conscripted soldiers of the coalition and the genetically malformed legions of undead were firing upon me in a unity of purpose not seen since humanity first took to the stars.

A lost leg lightened my load and I flew.

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