SHIT FUCK ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKERS. They had her pinned by snipers as well. At least two .50 caliber, rail-mounted guns were targeting her position, her machine mind informed her. It was already calculating their positions from the angles of impact and it would have them in a moment. As if to help her calculation, two more rounds careened into her, and, along with the resumed fire from the two machine gunners prone on the ground, the blows sent her body rolling and sliding along the concrete quad floor back up to the wall she had been pinned against only three seconds ago.

FUCKING BASTARDS! she screamed in her head. She was losing. Soon they would have stripped through her outer skin to the superconductor shielding beneath. They couldn’t keep this fire up forever, but with the snipers now bringing much higher power, higher caliber rounds to bear, she was in serious trouble. She called out to the satellite above her. It was furiously attempting to take out the missiles that were closing in on it, and its outlook was looking ever bleaker than hers. The missiles were not coming down as they should, it reported to Lana and the others, the secondary barrage was shielded somehow, and they were getting close. Too close.

She ordered the satellite to stop protecting itself and redirect its laser to take out the gun placements around her. If it was doomed, at least it could save her. But it was not taking orders from Council members any more. Its protocols were set. Now that the humans clearly knew that the satellites were there, it had a new mission protocol and Lana saw the view from above as it initiated the viral deployment. As the upper atmosphere over Florida, Hawaii, and Singapore burned with the explosive fury of the approaching missile barrages, the satellites were already firing tiny missile pods out to their left and right, sowing the seeds of viral death onto the humans below.

Fucking machine, Princess Lamati thought, not noticing the irony, and she looked at her tactical options once more. As another set of high-power rounds hit her back, she crouched into the fetal position and protected her face. Her metal ribs were cracking, her skull was dented in two places, her left shoulder had been hit by three bullets at once and it was dislocated. She was dying.

But her hatred for the filthy race she had been sent to exterminate gave her options no sane person would have considered. OK, you little fuckers, she thought. You think you have me? You think I am down? Well, ask yourselves this: what, exactly, do you think I was doing at the base in the first place? And with that she reached out with her internal subspace tweeter and found the two tiny disks she had planted inside the Ohio Class submarines behind her.

Why don’t we see … how you like … this, she thought, and she sent the kill code.