Galactic Air Raid and Recapture Battle (Part 1)
"Minister, we've received a support request from the Ukrainian forces."
"Originally, 500 troops were escorting over 2,000 evacuees, but Strange Zombies opened portals in mid-air and swarmed from all directions. They report total annihilation."
"For now, only the areas around Mephauric and Earth are safe. Damn it all—if things keep going like this, protecting lives might take a backseat to exterminating those Strange Zombies by any means necessary."
"But if we rack up mountains of corpses and still efficiently purge the Strange Zombies and purify cosmic sectors, we'll be hailed as heroes. If we proceed peacefully but too slowly, we'll face reprimands. Either way, the military will crumble from within."
The Strange Zombies still dominated hundreds of thousands of galaxies on the battlefield, relentlessly converting their surroundings into more of their kind.
Not only that, but this ability wasn't unconditional. They could assault midway, embed in key positions, contaminate the entire area at once, and summon endless reinforcements through the immaterial realm.
At this rate, the entire universe faced catastrophic strangelet conversion.
The silver lining? Amid the chaos, hippie terrorist groups—driven by revenge against Earth—openly spewed hatred toward Cleas, who now governed it, even dragging in guilt-by-association rhetoric.
This gave governments pioneering the cosmos grounds to crush them outright. Public sentiment was solidifying in sympathy toward Cleas and me.
"Reclaiming a galaxy that's already fallen? Pointless for now. It's just mindless Strange Zombies at that point."
"The priority is eliminating the Strange Zombies there."
"Exactly. FW-1546 was invaded just three hours ago, and already twelve planets have fallen without any real resistance."
"Our surefire counter is that even self-aware Strange Zombies can't fully integrate or separate from mindless ones via a mature hive mind yet."
"So if you charge and hit a Strange Zombie wall, you bounce off without breaching."
"Tactically, draw from how stressed eels turn water to jelly. Strategically, deploy the monopole ionizer—it disrupts their strangelet chains from within."
"Lure their vigilance to it exclusively, feint with other weapons, isolate sectors to prevent spread, then wipe them out."
"Crucially, prevent adaptation. Against hippie terrorists or rogue government forces, always use direct confrontation."
"Even if tactics are needed, only counter by reverse-engineering theirs. Their psyches are more broken than the Zombies—they'll grasp at any excuse, rallying with conspiracies, backstabbing accusations, or victimhood nationalism."
"We must prove we're an unbeatable foe."
"Yes, sir."
"Conversely, the Zombies will scheme meticulously against us. Their elective monarchy ensures no sloppy plans."
"But they won't stay put in one spot. They leave blatant trails by nature—if we mask that, infiltration gets easier."
"Their huge white bulks only show in light; without visible spectrum reflection, they're invisible. Early response will be tough."
"Right. We hide our bases too, but they'll find us eventually."
"Their upside: superhuman physiques mean they rely solely on infantry weapons, despite tech prowess. They navigate vacuum bare-bodied, tireless since gaining sentience via strangelet masses."
"Exploit vast space. Form squadrons: 64 fighters per group, 4 per squad."
"Enter at 50,000 feet over infection zones, ±3,000 feet variance. Initiate boom-and-zoom dives."
"Half hit-and-run to other sectors; half loiter, hammering relentlessly."
"When foes climb to engage, one squad climbs rearward as bait. Two waiting squads surge from below, shocking them."
"Encircle top-and-bottom, disorient, then all squads dive at varying altitudes for annihilation."
"They'll see multi-site hit-and-run as simple guerrilla tactics. Even predicting ambushes, they won't expect low-altitude surges mirroring their climbs for pincer."
"They'll assume that's the full ploy. Deeper analysis requires clashing to induce friendly fire, then assessing melee/range—buying us time."
"They'll prioritize escape first. We shift altitudes, hammer with hammer-and-anvil swarm."
Annihilation guaranteed.
"Yes, sir!!"
Ansoloc side——, FW-1546 sector
Shoooooom
Clack
"I'll take point on launch."
"Got it. Good hunting."
My name is Ansoloc White, head of the White family—one of the six clans forming the Diagrams of Mystery.
When the Lennox clan rose prominently in 2028, we volunteered for UN forces, revealing partial truths to foster unity beyond national loyalties—promising we'd install them as new leadership in their homelands.
We secured their backing.
'A whole galaxy fully strangelet-converted. Hope they're not self-replicating here. Civilians will count them at first, then nightmare out as the universe fills with glossy white behemoths—pure PTSD fuel.'
Clack
Screeeeech
'Hell, normal matter colliding with strangelet wings? If they echolocate off that, we're in trouble.'
Kaboooom
Remaining normal matter let missile blasts echo clearly. Means survivors—or corpses not yet converted, drifting.
Shoo
"Enemy sighted. Engaging."
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat
From 5,500 feet dive, machine guns raked beyond missile blasts. Strange Zombie swarms rocketed upward.
We scattered in boom-and-zoom, breaking formation—but packing 40mm long-range sniper cannons too.
Shooooooom
"Coolbit maneuver, hold six o'clock, snipe."
"Yes, sir!!!"
"On snipe fire, signal drop teams to infiltrate via radio."
Shoooo
"Pursue!!!"
Vroooom
Thung
Thung
Thung
Thung
Sharp slugs and needle rounds screamed near-lightspeed. Spot their white glow or get shredded.
Whirrr
"Nice infantry loadout. But relying too hard on raw physique?"
I peeled lone from formation, drawing eyes. My three wingmen followed hastily; Zombies accelerated pursuit.
Perfect—90-degree park at six o'clock.
"Fire."
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat
Boom
Boom
Boom
"Grraaak!!!!"
Thermobarics nailed heads, blasting auras. Simultaneously, low-altitude ambush erupted.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat
"Grraaak!!!!"
"Pincer top and bottom!!!"
"All units, Tachi Weave to toy with them."
"Yes!"
Shooooooom
Tachi Weave scattered their gaze; we shredded tails.
Our firepower pierced their physique. Frames used transition metal alloys with half-lives tuned just beyond neutron star crush—destabilizing strangelets to up/down quarks on contact, disintegrating them.
But clustered tight, they recombine and stabilize before interacting with us. We could only handle singles.
Shwick
"One's latched on me!"
"Roger. Bank—I'll handle pursuit."
Whirl
Kaboom
"They're chasing straight to our six. Support requested."
"No sweat."
Whish
Kaboom
"Can't shake—falling back..."
"Engaging. Eat this."
Beep
I unleashed volleys of small IR-guided missiles, pummeling them mercilessly. Tracking our drifts in defense mode superheated their heat-absorbing bodies via engine exhaust.
No dodging omnidirectional seekers.
Szzzzz
"Now! Standby squads, join assault."
"Yes!"
Shoom
Shoom
Shoom
Shoom
"Incoming fire. Flank for hammer strike."
"Roger."
Vrooooom
We leveled altitudes instantly. They reeled from missiles, blind to our range—top-bottom gaps filled in a blink.
Overwhelmed by numbers, clueless if close or far, they flailed. We portaled ultra-close, surrounded all axes, missile-blasted every direction.
Shockwaves tore them apart.