by M. D. Cooper
As she sailed through the air, everything seemed to slow down, and a calm certainty came over her. There is nothing these Nietzscheans can do to stop me. I am their death.
It would be easy.
She lobbed a pair of smart grenades at the wall to the right of the stairs, angling them above the enemy’s grav shields. The small balls of death bounced off the wall and headed straight for the crew-served weapon. She didn’t watch to ensure they hit, trusting the ‘nades to detonate once they attached to the gun.
Her focus was on the two heavies. The one on the left was advancing, conveniently blocking the left-side crew-served weapon, while the one on the right contented itself with spraying more rounds into the open space.
Rika took a moment to wonder if there were other Niets working elsewhere on this level. As best she could tell, the weaponry being fired at her would chew clear through the building—and anyone in their path—in short order.
Good thing we’re near the top, she thought. Otherwise these idiots would bring the whole building down.
A moment later, the grenades went off, the grav shields containing the blast and flinging the nearby Niets about like rag dolls.
Rika used the moment of distraction to rush the right-hand heavy. Her DPU sabot rounds could penetrate the metal monsters, but there wasn’t enough range in the foyer to fire them, and she wanted to save the charges on her electron beam for whatever may come next.
I’ll do these bastards up close and personal.
The GM must have spotted her movement—likely from disturbances in the smoke that was starting to fill the room—because it jerked its chaingun toward her.
Rika would have thanked the mech’s operator if she’d had the chance. The weapon mount made for the perfect landing place, and she clamped on with both feet, bending three of the barrels and fouling the weapon.
At the same time, she dropped her AC9CR back onto the hook on her back and ignited her lightwand, driving it into the main body of the thing, sinking the blade down to the hilt.
With the hole torn into the operator’s pod, she disabled her lightwand and pulled her AC9CR free—briefly considering getting another set of arms—and fired on a pair of Nietzscheans rushing down the stairs, while her right foot pulled free of the gun mount and grabbed another grenade from the pouch at her waist, driving it into the hole that her lightwand had hewn.
She ran across the heavy as it scrabbled at itself, trying to knock the grenade free. She landed on the second GM, ducking behind its bulk as the grenade inside the first one detonated. Her GNR snapped three times, ballistic rounds firing into the greatly-widened opening on the first GM.
The second heavy spun around, attempting to fling her off, its movements making it impossible for the Niets operating the left-side crew-served weapon to fire on her, for fear of striking their comrade.
Rika grabbed another pair of smart grenades and set them to hit the Niets furthest from the shielded gun. The heavy swung an arm up at Rika, and she narrowly avoided getting a chaingun to the head.
The grenades detonated, and she kicked off the flailing beast to sail over the grav shield and land directly behind the crew-served railgun.
One slash with her lightwand, and the operator was dead. She locked one foot onto the gun’s floor mount, and then slammed the other foot into the Niet managing the ammo. She clamped her three claws around his neck and twisted, breaking the woman’s fragile bones before flinging her body at her comrades.
In the time it took to kill the two Nietzscheans, Niki had breached the simple biolock on the railgun, and Rika let out a primal scream as she fired it at the remaining heavy, tearing its limbs off before finally penetrating its armored body and killing the human inside.
A moment later, something struck her side, and she saw one of the Nietzscheans near the stairs firing a small-mass coilgun at her.
With a flick of her wrist, a smart grenade was sent sailing through the air to land on the soldier’s chest. A guttural cry escaped the Niet before the top of his body exploded in a bloody spray.
Two of the soldiers on the far side of the stairs had disentangled themselves from their comrades, and were running past the now-flickering grav shield toward one of the exits. Rika didn’t hesitate before gunning them down, not willing to risk the enemies regrouping with more of their scumbag friends and attacking anew.
On her right, two of the Nietzscheans who had witnessed her callous action opened fire—one with a heavy caliber slug thrower, and the other with a beam rifle.
Rika twisted to the side, spinning the crew-served railgun on its mount to point at the pair, firing the last of the rounds in its current string of ammo at the Niets, and tearing their bodies apart.
When the railgun’s whine died down, a stillness fell on the foyer. Rika stepped out, around the grav shield, watching for any signs of life in the twisted wreckage of human and machine before her, nodding in satisfaction.
Easy.
Her stealth effectiveness was down to fifty percent, her armor dented and scored from the rounds that had struck her. She deactivated it; from here out, she wanted the enemy to see her coming.
Rika laughed at the scout’s joke.
Rika chuckled to herself, checking her AC9CR’s charge and swapping its nearly spent rail-pellet magazine. Satisfied that the rifle was ready to rock, she checked her GNR for damage, ensuring that the firing modes were all functional.
Niki had already sent a passel of nanoprobes up the stairs, revealing a squad of Nietzscheans who had taken up positions in the hallway on the left-hand branch of the staircase. The top floor’s halls curved, so she knew that both paths would lead her to her quarry. She took the right-hand staircase, not feeling the least bit of guilt over hitting the enemy in the rear.
Striding up the stairs and into the corridor like she hadn’t a care in the world, she resisted whistling a tune.
Killing Nietzscheans was her business, and business was good.
LAST STAND
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Nietzschean System Command, Memphis, Kansas
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Admiral Gideon tensed as the sound of weapons fire ceased. He glanced at the master sergeant next to the door.
“No one’s in the corridor yet, sir,” the man said, beads of sweat visible on his brow.
Gideon nodded silently, not blaming the sergeant for his nerves. They’d all watched the feeds from the base of the staircase.
The enemy they faced had impressive stealth gear, but as the fight progressed—all thirty-nine seconds of it—it became clear that the destruction was caused by a single attacker.
One of the Genevian human-hybrid mechs.
“What was that?” Decoteau asked a moment later. “It didn’t look like a model I’ve seen before.”
“An SMI of some sort,” Sofia replied from her position behind a holotable, rifle held ready. “But different than any I’ve seen before. Faster, and that electron blade in her arm…”
“Just one…” a major on the far side of the room whispered. “What are we going to do?”
“Stow your shit,” Sofia growled. “She’s not invincible, and she took a lot of hits down there. Plus, we have our countermeasures ready. They should be sufficient.”
Gideon wasn’t convinced that Sofia’s plan would work, and was wondering if it was too late to make a break for the express elevator at the far end of the corridor. The sm
all voice in the back of his head was driving home the regret he felt for not taking Sofia’s advice earlier. The bunker on the northern edge of the city was looking very inviting right then.
The staccato rhythm of kinetic rifles firing broke the silence outside the room, and was punctuated by a scream, then a shriek and some crying.
He doubted it was coming from the mech.
Seven long seconds later, a lightwand slashed through the door, cutting away the lock.
Gideon swallowed. Being the bait had seemed like the right call five minutes ago when Sofia proposed this plan. He’d felt strong and in control, an inspiration to those around him—he’d also been convinced that the attacker wouldn’t make it past the defenses on the stairs.
Now he worried he’d mess himself.
The electron blade slid out of the door, and he drew in a breath, holding it for three long seconds before the door exploded inward, followed by the mech striding into the room.
Her sleek, grey armor was darkened by carbon scoring and streaks of blood—from the looks of it, none of it was hers.
“Who’s in charge here?” The woman’s clear, strong voice rang through the room like a bell.
Gideon squared his shoulders, hoping he appeared more certain of himself than he felt. “Fleet Admiral Gideon. What are your intentions?”
The sleek mech took another step into the room. Her head didn’t pivot to take the space in; he knew it didn’t have to—her helmet would be feeding a surround view of the space into her mind.
The thing had eyes in the back of its head.
“My intentions are for you to surrender, Admiral Gideon. Order all your forces in the Blue Ridge System to stand down and cease all hostilities.”
If Gideon hadn’t seen this killing machine tear its way through his troops just minutes before, he would have laughed in her face.
“And if I refuse?” he asked.
The mech took a step forward, swinging its right arm toward him, the meter-long barrel on its end aimed at his head.
“Then I blow your head off, and your second-in-command gets the honors.”
It took every ounce of Gideon’s willpower not to take a step back. He needed the mech to think him defiant and move further into the room.
Then she did. A quick step, followed by a second.
Colonel Sofia screamed “Now!” though it was not necessary. The EMP burst had already gone off, a targeted wave of modulated energy, washing over the mech.
Electricity arced across her body, and the mech stiffened, her three long fingers twitching as the EM wave continued to surge over her.
Then the EM burst cut out, and the woman let out a keening wail, her right arm jerking as though she were trying to fire the gun embedded in it.
To Gideon’s great relief, nothing happened.
The mech fell still, and the tension fell out of the room, soldiers and officers rising from behind their cover. Then the mech took a shuddering step forward, a deep growl emanating from deep within the armored shell.
With a calm expression, Colonel Sofia rose and fired a CF-Net that wrapped around the mech. Upon impact, the net latched on and tightened, carbon-nano fibers drawing taut, pulling the mech’s arms to its body. The Genevian horror wobbled for a moment, and then fell backward, slamming into the ground.
Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at the windows to get an update on the status of the battle, only then realizing that, even though the EMP burst had been targeted, the wave of energy had still shorted out every display in the room.
And from the looks of it, had also killed three of the officers closest to the mech.
He glanced at Sofia, but she only shrugged. “Collateral damage.”
“I can’t believe she made it so far on her own,” Decoteau said as he stepped toward the mech and gave it a kick.
“I wouldn’t—” Sofia’s words cut off as the mech twitched, a muffled voice coming from behind her helmet.
“I’ll kill every last one of you fuckers!”
“Some mouth on that thing,” Gideon commented, as a sergeant ran into the room, skidding to a halt when he saw the monstrosity on the floor.
A second later, he regained his composure.
“Admiral, sir!”
“What is it?” Gideon growled, annoyed at the interruption.
“The enemy, we have updated our assessment of their numbers and composition.”
“And?”
“There are no more than two platoons out there,” the sergeant reported.
“What?” Decoteau interjected. “How are they—?”
He cut off when Gideon waved a dismissive hand in his direction.
The sergeant took the gesture as his cue to continue. “They’re all mechs. Every last one of them.”
“What?” Sofia gasped, then gestured at the thing on the floor. “Like this?”
“Yes, that’s their scout model. Most of them are the heavier mechs, but there are a few configurations we’ve not seen before. Their walkers also have shields far stronger than we’ve encountered in the past; not like their ships, but still strong.”
“Sir.” Sofia turned to Admiral Gideon. “We need to go. Now.”
Gideon didn’t hesitate to nod. “I agree. But we need more intel on this threat; if I abandon Kansas with nothing more than wild stories…” He appeared to make a decision. “We’re taking this mech.”
The thing on the floor twitched at his words, but Sofia nodded. “Understood, sir.”
CHASING RIKA
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Floor 500, MacWood Building, Memphis, Kansas
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
The scout let out a string of curses, then flung her last grenade at the wall, triggering it to bounce twice, then roll amidst the Niets that had been advancing up the primary stairwell from the floors below.
She was running back toward the central room and its staircase to the top level before the grenade she’d thrown even went off.
When she reached the foyer at the base of the stairs and saw the carnage, Leslie felt a sense of awe sweep over her, though the feeling was short-lived, as weapons fire rained down on her from the level above.
“Fuck!” she swore as she ducked back into the corridor, reviewing the new enemies that her optics had detected.
There were at least a dozen of them up there, and by the sounds of the footsteps, another dozen were forming up at the head of the staircase’s other branch.
A shot zipped over her shoulder, pinging off the wall, and Leslie realized that her grenade hadn’t slowed down the first group of Niets as much as she’d hoped.
There was no response, and Leslie felt a sense of helplessness wash over her as she turned down a side corridor and retreated under intensifying enemy fire.
Leslie continued cursing Rika’s bravado and the Nietzscheans’ cunning as she continued to fall back.
Through the nanoprobes she’d left behind, she watched a group of officers descend the stairs, and saw that several sergeants behind them carried Rika’s bound form.
Leslie noted that Rika was struggling feebly, and breathed a sigh of relief.
She’s alive.
Her need to survive warred with Leslie’s desire to get Rika free. Her stealth armor reported only sixty percent effectiveness, and she knew that precluded sneaking up on the Niets and freeing her commander. Still, it would be enough to lose the squad of Niets that was trying to flush her out.
As she ran down the
corridors circling the floor, Leslie tried to get close to the group of officers, only to have the feeds from her nanoprobes show them reaching the elevator bank well ahead of her, filing into a waiting car.
Stars, let them put Rika in the next car, Leslie all but prayed as she rushed back to the half-destroyed secondary staircase.
She came to the stairwell, and looked down to see a pair of Nietzscheans standing on the rubble that was piled up twenty floors below. Without a second thought, she leapt out into the empty space, firing her PR-99 at them as she fell. As luck would have it, the Niets fell across each other as they died, and she landed on their stacked bodies, then rolled off and dashed out into the corridor beyond. Without missing a beat, she raced across the four hundred and eightieth floor, firing indiscriminately at any enemy that got in her way, not even bothering to ensure they weren’t gathering behind her.
Twenty seconds later, Leslie turned a corner and saw the lift doors ahead. There were two guards on either side, and she fired a series of rail-accelerated pellets, first at one, and then the other, before turning her weapon on the doors.
Shredded aluminum gave way, and she slammed into the doors and leapt across the lift to the lift-climb rail on the back wall. Below her, an elevator car was descending, and she glanced up to see another slide into place at the five hundredth level above her.
Leslie wished Niki was online to tell her where the lifts were headed. It was her hope that the group was going to the loading dock at the base of the tower. If that was the Niets’ destination, they would have a surprise waiting for them—just as soon as she was able to Link up with the four mech frames she and Rika had hacked on the way into the building.
As the elevator car above began to descend, Leslie swung an arm out and caught one of the floor beams as it passed by.
Hanging from the bottom of the car, she looked down into the thousands of meters below, scanning the doors leading to each floor for any signs of activity. The last thing she needed were Niets shooting at her while hanging from the bottom of the car. No enemies showed their faces, though, and Leslie gave a silent thanks to the ISF that—even at partial effectiveness—their stealth technology was enough to fool the Nietzscheans.