Billions of dollars to construct the best bunker lab in the country. Hundreds of servicemen assigned to guard the place from any and all possible incursion. Supplies to last out a nuclear winter. The greatest minds still alive on Earth, brought together for a singular purpose. And instead of being the new Manhattan Project... it had all been for fucking nothing. If Commander Kennedy Rodriguez hadn't been so focused on the task at hand, he might have cackled with delight. Finally, an example of egregious-yet-worthless military spending that made the Zumwalt look like a good investment.
It was almost surreal, hearing the admiral give the order to ready the remote self-destruct. For several long minutes as the oval-shaped vessel closed in on that empty patch of wilderness, the room was silent, the gathered officers there contemplative of just how screwed they all were. A handful of generals and admirals, the leadership barely holding these United States together after DC had fallen, now found themselves having to consider - who got to be among the less than 0.1 percent of humanity that survived? How did they determine the best candidates to be the last vestige of their species, vagrant among the stars?
Kennedy, for his part, was trying to focus on whatever bright side existed. The truth they now realized was that, had a mysterious extraterrestrial broadcast not been picked up and answered a week prior, not even that tiny shred of the human race would have a chance in hell of surviving. Admiral Shani's timely contact had provided them with the first solid intel about the enemy - and about how well and truly screwed the planet was. Gruff and rowdy officers had initially been reluctant to trust a woman who looked like a damn cat, but everything she'd been telling them had panned out - and right now, there was no better optiona available.
"Enemy vessel is within the blast radius, Admiral," the commander softly spoke up as the Predator drone's feed showed a massive green oval hovering over the base. There was a moment of hestitation, spent watching as tendrils of latex shot down to claw through the Earth and reach the lab, before his superior made a small motion with his hand.
"Hit it. God have mercy on us."
Maybe He would, maybe He wouldn't - this wasn't Kennedy's concern as he flipped the switch and comdemned well over a thousand of his brothers and sisters in arms, scientists, and technicians to vaporization. The feed crackled as a nuclear fireball erupted from within the lab, exploding upwards to envelop the facility, its bright flash briefly rendering the entire scene a chaotic mess. It was only a few minutes later, as the smoke finally began to clear, that the feed stabilized enough for the collected officers to see the crater that had once been the facility... and the green oval still floating above it, now deploying futas down to the blue-skinned Queen now cradling a blackened skeleton.
She was far, far from the drone, but her screeches of rage were audible even at that distance. Terrified murmurs reigned over the meeting room before a blue lance of energy knocked the drone out, leaving the gathered flag officers to once again view the grim face of Admiral Shani. "I believe you killed one she cared for," the catwoman mused. "I suppose her fury might lead her to make some strategic and tactical errors... but as you can see, irradiating your homeworld will bring no benefit, just as it did my own species no good."
"I see your point," the human admiral replied, utterly defeated. "Commander Martinez... get to the Prometheus facility. Have Johnson and her people get this teleporter up and running. And then..." He swallowed audibly. "We'll need... people... for a short list."
He nodded grimly. "Yes sir."
"Commander?"
"Yes sir?"
"You and your family should be on there, but..." He shook his head. "None of us."
"Sir?"
"We're all going straight to Hell, Commander. No sense running from that."