FORSAKEN EARTH

The drop ship's hull glowed red-hot as it pierced Earth's atmosphere, rattling violently in its descent. Inside the cramped cabin, five female warriors gripped their harnesses, well-trained muscles tensing against the crushing G-forces. Noma, the squad leader, glanced at her sisters-in-arms: Freja, Revna, Ylva, and Torvi. All of them were clones, Ascended warriors that had trained together for years for this very moment. As Noma's gaze lingered on Ylva's face, she felt a flutter in her chest - not for the first time - a curious sensation that went beyond mere comradeship and which had to be suppressed at all cost.

Noma pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the mission. Earth was merely an objective, a prize to be reclaimed. She had been decanted in the sterile labs of Ascension City on Luna, and the blue-green orb hurtling towards them was as alien to them as any distant star. The pre-mission downloads flooded her mind with information about Earth - its history, its fall, its current state. But knowledge wasn't experience, and Noma found the data strangely hollow.

With a bone-jarring impact that threatened to liquefy their enhanced spines, the ship slammed into the ground. For a moment, silence reigned. Then, with a hiss of hydraulics, the hatch blew open.

The stench hit them first - a miasma of decay and chemicals that their filters struggled to process. Noma's eyes watered as she stepped out, her boots sinking inches deep into viscous mud. Each movement produced a sickening squelch. The oppressive heat and humidity, far more intense than the carefully regulated climate of their lunar home, made their armoured suits feel like portable saunas.

But it was the silence that truly unnerved them. No birdsong, no insects buzzing, not even the whisper of wind through leaves, none of the things they had been prepared for with audio logs during their training. Just an eerie, dead quiet that seemed to swallow even the sound of their breathing.

Noma activated her optical enhancements, scanning the blasted landscape. The drop zone was supposed to be near the ruins of an old metropolis, but all she could see was a vast expanse of mud and twisted metal. In the distance, the shattered remnants of skyscrapers poked through the muck like broken teeth.

"Spread out," Noma commanded, her voice sounding flat and lifeless in the dead air. "Standard search pattern. Torvi, take point. Freja, watch our six."

As they moved towards the ruined skyline, their white armour gleaming incongruously against the muddy wasteland, Noma felt a presence at her side. Ylva had fallen into step beside her, dark eyes scanning the horizon through her visor.

"Quite a welcome party," Ylva murmured, her attempt at humour falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere.

Noma nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The closeness of Ylva's presence was... distracting. Just a simple emotion to be suppressed. Focus on the mission.

Hours passed as they picked through the ruins, collecting valuable data with their scanners. Radiation levels far exceeded safe parameters. Soil samples showed high concentrations of heavy metals and synthetic compounds. The very air seemed thick with particulate matter, visible even without enhancement as a constant, sickly haze.

As the bloated, sickly yellow sun began to set, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, they approached what appeared to be a murky pond. Torvi stepped closer to collect a water sample, her boots leaving deep imprints in the shoreline mud.

It happened in an instant. A mass of writhing tentacles, each as thick as a human torso, erupted from the water. They wrapped around Torvi's limbs with terrifying speed and strength. She screamed, a sound Noma had never heard from one of her kind before – raw, primal, filled with terror.

"Open fire!" Noma yelled, her training kicking in even as her mind reeled at the impossibility of what she was seeing.

The air filled with the staccato thunder of their rail guns, hypervelocity rounds streaking towards the creature. Water and gore exploded upwards as the bullets impacted, but it wasn't enough. With a sickening crunch that Noma felt in her bones, Torvi was crushed and pulled beneath the surface.

The pond bubbled and churned for a moment, then fell still. A slick of red spread across its surface, the only evidence that Torvi had ever existed.

The remaining four Ascended stood frozen, their conditioning warring with the shock of what they'd just witnessed. Noma felt Ylva's hand slip into hers, squeezing tightly. The contact sent a jolt through her system, anchoring her to the moment.

"We... we should collect data on the creature," Freja said finally, her voice shaking slightly.

Noma nodded numbly. This wasn't in any of their briefings. Earth wasn't dead - it was actively hostile.

They made camp for the night, setting up a perimeter of motion sensors salvaged from the drop ship. As the others took turns standing watch, Noma found herself sitting next to Ylva, their shoulders touching as they stared out into the darkness.

"I've never seen anything like that," Ylva whispered, her usual confidence shaken. "How can we fight an enemy we don't understand?"

Noma turned to look at her, really look at her, for the first time since they'd landed. In the dim light of their camp, Ylva's features seemed softer, more vulnerable. Without thinking, Noma reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Ylva's face.

"We adapt," Noma said softly. "It's what we were made for."

As dawn broke, painting the muddy landscape in sickly hues of orange and red, a new challenge presented itself. The Earth's gravity, significantly stronger than the Moon's, began to take its toll. Their muscles ached, joints creaked, and every movement became a struggle.

"We need to lighten our load," Noma decided, wincing as she stood. "The armour's slowing us down more than it's protecting us."

One by one, they began removing elements of their heavy white armour. Shin guards and thigh armour were discarded, sinking slowly into the muck. As Ylva shed the last of her leg armour, Noma found her gaze lingering on Ylva’s body. She quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the oppressive temperature, embarrassed by her own lack of discipline as the unit’s leader.

They continued their survey, moving with far more caution than before. Their bare legs sank into the mud with each step, but the relief from the weight was palpable. Noma noticed Ylva staying close to her, their hands occasionally brushing as they walked. Each contact sent a thrill through her body, a sensation both alien and exhilarating.

Midday brought tragedy again. Revna, thirsty and believing she'd found a clear pond, waded in with her bare legs. Her screams pierced the air, a sound of pure agony that cut through the oppressive silence like a knife.

"Revna!" Freja yelled, rushing towards the pond.

Noma grabbed her arm, holding her back. "Wait! Don't touch the water!"

They watched in horror as Revna fell and thrashed, the liquid - not water but some caustic acid - eating away at her flesh. By the time they managed to pull her out with a length of rope from their supplies, it was too late. Revna's legs and body were a mess of dissolving tissue and bone, her screams fading to a whimper before falling silent altogether.

As they buried Revna in the forgiving mud, Noma felt something crack inside her. This wasn't a world to be reclaimed. It was a death trap, a nightmare made real. She looked at Ylva, saw the same realisation dawning in her eyes. Without a word, they moved closer, hands intertwining.

As the sun began to set once more, casting long shadows across the blasted landscape, Noma's sensors picked up movement - a group approaching from the west. But these weren't the organised clone armies or mutant hordes they'd been warned about.

As they drew closer, Noma could make out some details. They were scavengers, mostly female clones, like they themselves were, driven to desperation by the harsh realities of this world. They wore tattered loincloths, their faces obscured by makeshift gas masks cobbled together from salvaged materials. In their hands they clutched an assortment of weapons - rusted firearms caked in mud, spears made from rebar and sharpened metal, clubs studded with nails and broken glass.

But it was their eyes that truly chilled Noma to the core. Even through the cracked lenses of their masks, she could see the wild, desperate hunger that burned within them. These weren't just attackers - they were starving creatures ready to throw their lives away for even the slimmest chance of a scrap of food.

"Defensive positions," Noma ordered, her voice tight. "Try to communicate first. We're not here to fight them."

But even as she spoke, she knew it was hopeless. The scavengers moved with the single-minded purpose of the desperately hungry. There would be no reasoning with them.

The attack started unceremoniously, as soon as the scavengers came into range. A hail of crude projectiles - bullets from guns that looked more likely to explode than fire, sharpened scrap metal, and stones - whistled through the air. Freja went down first, a jagged piece of rebar punching through her exposed thigh. Bleeding heavily, she crawled behind a rotten tree trunk, returning fire with her railgun. The hypervelocity rounds tore through the scavengers' flesh with ease, but there were so many of them.

Noma watched in horror as the scavengers pressed forward, heedless of their fallen comrades. Those without weapons clawed at the ground, dragging themselves towards the Ascended with a terrifying single-mindedness. It was as if they no longer cared for their own lives, driven only by the primal need to consume.

Noma and Ylva found themselves back-to-back, their training kicking in despite the shock and fatigue. The staccato rhythm of their rail guns filled the air, punctuated by the screams of the wounded and dying. Countless scavengers fell, their bodies torn apart by the advanced weapons, but more kept coming, scrambling over the bodies of the fallen, their eyes fixed on the promise of sustenance that the Ascended represented.

A scavenger, eyes wild with desperation behind her cracked gas mask, lunged at Noma with a spear fashioned from a rusty metal pole. Noma dodged, the makeshift weapon grazing her side. She retaliated, her armoured fist connecting with the attacker's jaw with a sickening crunch of bone and plastic as she punched through the gas mask. Even as the scavenger fell, two more took her place, hands grasping, mouths working behind their masks as if already tasting their prize.

"Noma, watch out!" Ylva's voice cut through the chaos.

Noma turned just in time to see a net, woven from scavenged plastic and wire, flying towards her. She tried to dodge, but the Earth's gravity betrayed her. The net entangled her bare legs, and she toppled to the ground.

Ylva was there in an instant, standing over Noma's fallen form, rail gun blazing. Scavengers fell before her onslaught, but their numbers seemed endless. As Noma struggled to free herself from the net, she saw a scavenger raise a crude pistol, taking aim at Ylva's back.

"Ylva, behind you!" Noma screamed, finally tearing free of the net.

Ylva turned, but too late. The gun barked, and at this close range even the protective chest armour of the Ascended warrior couldn’t stop the projectile. Ylva stumbled, blood oozing from the hole in her armour. She fell to her knees, rail gun slipping from nerveless fingers.

Rage and grief surged through Noma. Her conditioning cracked, and she lashed out with terrifying efficiency. Her railgun sang a song of death, each round finding its mark with unerring accuracy. When it finally clicked empty, she turned it around, using it as a club, cleaving open the heads of several scavengers, smashing through their gas masks and into their skulls, turning the heads into a pulpy mess of plastic, flesh and bone.

She never realised that the last few scavengers tried to surrender, begging for mercy in a language Noma couldn’t understand. She kept swinging her makeshift club, cutting them down one by one like an unstoppable whirlwind.

When it was over, dozens of scavengers lay dead or dying around her. Noma stood alone in the wasteland, chest heaving, hands slick with blood and worse. She hurried over to Ylva, kneeling down in the blood-soaked mud, cradling her head in her lap.

"Stay with me," Noma pleaded, pressing her hand against the wound in Ylva's chest. "Please, stay with me."

Ylva's eyes fluttered open, a weak smile touching her lips. "Noma," she whispered. "I... I'm glad it was you. At the end."

"Don't talk like that," Noma said fiercely. "You're going to be fine. We'll get you back to the ship, patch you up..."

But even as she spoke, Noma knew it was a lie. Their medical supplies were woefully inadequate for an injury this severe. Ylva's breathing grew more laboured, her skin pale beneath the mud and blood.

"Noma," Ylva said, her voice barely audible. "I always loved you. Isn't that strange? We weren't made for love."

Noma felt something break inside her. Tears, an alien sensation, streamed down her face. "I love you Ylva," she whispered.

Ylva's lips curved into a small smile. Then, with a final, soft exhalation, she was gone.

Noma sat there for a long time, holding Ylva's body as the sun set and darkness fell. When she finally stood, her legs numb and aching, she felt hollowed out. Empty.

As she surveyed the battlefield, a moan caught her attention. Freja! In the chaos of the battle, Noma had almost forgotten about her injured comrade. She rushed to the rotten tree trunk where Freja had taken cover.

Freja was alive, but barely. The makeshift spear had left a deep gash in her thigh, and she had lost a lot of blood. Noma worked quickly, using what was left of their medkits to clean and dress the wound as best she could.

"Can you stand?" Noma asked, her voice hoarse.

Freja nodded weakly, gritting her teeth as Noma helped her to her feet. "Where... where is Ylva?" she asked, looking around at the carnage.

Noma shook her head, unable to speak. Understanding dawned in Freja's eyes, followed by a deep, profound sadness.

"We can't stay here," Noma said after a moment. "More scavengers might come. We need to get back to the drop ship."

Freja nodded again, leaning heavily on Noma for support. "Our gear... they'll be looking for us."

Noma realised she was right. Their remaining armour and equipment would make them easily recognisable, making them targets. With grim determination, they began stripping off the last of their armour.

"What are you doing?" Freja asked, watching as Noma, stripped down to her black bodysuit, approached the bodies of the fallen scavengers.

"Disguising us," Noma replied, her voice flat. She began removing the tattered clothes from the dead scavengers, trying not to think about the desperation that had driven these women to attack them.

Soon, Noma and Freja were dressed in the scavengers' rags, their faces hidden behind salvaged gas masks. They looked at each other, barely recognizable as the proud Ascended warriors they had been just days ago.

As dawn broke, painting the muddy landscape in sickly hues of orange and red, Noma helped Freja to her feet. Together, they began the long, perilous journey back to their drop ship. Each step was an effort, their bodies pushed to their limits by the alien gravity and the traumas of the past days. But they pushed on, driven by a new purpose.

Noma's thoughts turned to Ylva, to the brief, fragile connection they had shared. It had been unexpected, unplanned - a defiance of their neural programming and everything they had been taught. But in those moments of genuine human connection, Noma had felt more alive than ever before.

She gazed up at the distant, gleaming crescent of the moon, barely visible in the brightening sky. Somewhere up there, Ascension's armies prepared for an invasion that would bring only more death and destruction. Noma whispered to whoever or  whatever might be listening in this graveyard of a world.

"Forgive us," she said softly. "I hope we find the strength to choose a better path."

With that, Noma adjusted her grip on Freja, and they pressed on. The journey ahead would be long and fraught with danger. But she carried with her a new understanding, born of love and loss in this blighted world. Whatever the future held, she would face it with open eyes, and a heart newly awakened to the full spectrum of human experience - both its profound sorrows and its unexpected joys.

The desolate landscape stretched out before them, a grim reminder of humanity's past follies. But as Noma and Freja walked on, their determination grew. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still time to forge a different future - one that honoured the sacrifices of those who had fallen, and offered hope to those yet to come.