by Sean Davies
“Fucking epic,” the fearless redhead Book Wielder replied appreciatively, as Alice approached the power armour racks.
The armour racks were set into long rectangular recesses, guarded by both enchanted iron bars and a glowing cerulean force field, and Alice went directly to the rack where her equipment was stashed and deactivated the security measures. Inside, her white and black armour was splayed open like a dissected frog, and the Lord Imperator hung up her coat and positioned herself at the heart of the open suit. The mechanisms holding the armour, along with some that folded out of the floor and ceiling, set to work fixing the thick plates over Alice’s toned figure. Adorning power armour used to be a mission in itself, and the Lord Imperator was thankful for the enchanted robotic arms that cut out the time and hassle for herself and her Justiciars. She used to detest magic (along with everything else ‘unnatural’), but now she couldn’t imagine living without it.
Once the robotics had finished fastening the armour to Alice’s form and had tightened her armour’s seals, she stepped away from the rack, retrieving a plasma pistol and her Spell-forged steel war-hammer from a secure wall locker. She stuck the hammer to her back, plucked the minimalised version of her book from her officer’s coat and sealed it away in her power armour’s thigh compartment, holstering her pistol in the opposite one. Alice headed to join her squad, but dipped quickly back inside the recess for one last swig of energy potion from her hanging coat before leaving in earnest.
“You should really suit up,” Alice advised Chloe. “We have enough armour to spare.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Chloe replied, spinning on the spot to show off her black lace dress. “I’ve got my defensive spells—and besides, I don’t want to ruin the look.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “You’ve spent too much time around Veronica lately.”
Chloe laughed and continued to follow the Lord Imperator deeper into the cargo section, along with the now armoured members of their squad—although one Vampire Nightclaw, a devilishly handsome black man named Karamo, had also chosen to forgo armour as it would only hinder his rapid movements, and was dressed in a red leather trench coat and smart casual wear instead.
“So, we riding off this rig in a jeep or troop truck?” the redhead asked out of curiosity.
“No, we’re going out on the new Raptorkors,” Alice replied, gesturing for some of the airship’s cargo deck to assist her. “They’ve tested well on this type of terrain.”
Chloe rubbed her hands together excitedly; she had seen the mechanical biped mounts in their initial stages of development, and looked forward to seeing the finished product and riding one for herself.
Alice and the Judge’s crewmen quickly began unclipping thick plastic straps and sheets of tarpaulin that were covering the Raptorkors completely, as the pilots guided the airship dangerously close to the ground.
Inspired by the autonomy of the living vehicles originating from the Gloom, the Justiciar research teams had developed their own take on an artificial steed that could both transport infantry and pack a mean punch on the front lines. The mechanical mounts they’d created looked like a cross between a bird and a dragon, and had been modelled off their real-life reptilian counterparts that had been spotted deep in the Tropican jungle after the restoration of Mydia. They had been built the same size as a horse, and their long horizontal, well-armoured bodies were supported by two powerful hind legs that ended in wide padded feet, tipped with metal claws that could rend through steel. The Raptorkor’s forearms were much smaller than their massive legs but could be equipped with a wide assortment of weapons, ranging from longsword-length claws and reinforced lances, to flamethrowers and plasma miniguns. Their heads were streamlined and set with two triangular red eyes, their maws were filled with short diamond-tipped fangs, and their steel jaws were strong enough to crush through bone with ease. A shotgun was built into the back of their mouths, at the beginning of their flexible scale-armoured necks, to further increase their lethality in close combat. The Raptorkors also had long, heavy tails made of flexible serrated plates, tipped with an armour-piercing blade. In addition to being deadly, the tail helped to balance the mounts’ weight, especially if its arms were fully loaded with heavy weapons. The mechanical Raptorkor mounts also had short silver wings behind their saddles that would pulsate with blue energy when activated, which allowed them to leap great distances and glide gracefully. The Raptorkors’ biological counterparts in the Tropican jungle could fly short lengths as they had more avian features and weighed considerably less, and the Justiciar research teams were adamant that one day they would be able to get the mounts to fly too; Alice was happy to leave the skies to the planes and airships, though.
“They look so cool!” Chloe gasped, picking the nearest mount and straddling its crouched form. She frowned impatiently. “Why isn’t it working?”
“Open the hatch on its back and tap in your ID code, just above the manual controls,” Alice instructed, clambering onto the back of a Raptorkor armed with a savage claw and a large machinegun.
Chloe groaned as she dug through her cluttered handbag. “Where’s my security pass… it’s in here somewhere…”
The Lord Imperator recited Chloe’s personal security code effortlessly, as she had been forced to on many previous occasions. “And you should fasten that bag if you want to keep it.”
“Oh shit, yeah—good thinking, Ali,” the Book Wielder exclaimed as she quickly zipped up every compartment and tightened the strap, before activating the Raptorkor mount with her code.
Chloe’s mechanical mount rumbled and whirred as it came to life and pushed itself off the deck with its powerful metal legs, its feral red eyes glowing as it awaited instructions. The other seven members of the team did the same, and verbally commanded their Raptorkors to move down the cargo deck towards the slowly lowering rear ramp.
“Forward… please,” Chloe asked over the roaring wind emanating from the Judge’s opening cargo ramp. She looked at the manual controls as the beast lumbered forward after the others. “Alice, how the hell do you control these things?”
“Sorry,” Alice began, realising she’d left the Book Wielder in the dark regarding manoeuvring the mounts. “They’ve been equipped with an enchanted sensor that lets them read the will of their rider, thanks to our Bloodmages’ involvement in the project. The Raptorkors are quite intuitive—mental, verbal, and physical commands all work well. The control panel on their backs is just for emergency use.”
“Oh, sort of like how our books work then?” Chloe said, making her mount wave at Alice by strongly visualising it in her imagination.
“Precisely,” the Lord Imperator replied with a quick nod, before rattling off a series of short, sharp instructions to Karamo and the other troopers.
The redheaded Book Wielder rubbed the mount’s armour as though it were truly alive, and spoke to it lovingly like it was a pet. “Well, if you’re like my book then I’m going to have to get you a rad pink and black paint job to match—maybe with some cat stickers! I’m going to call you Biscuit. Who’s a good boy then, Biscuit?”
The mount growled appreciatively, and due to Chloe’s strong willpower, it began to purr.
Chloe turned to Alice and yelled over the cacophony of roaring wind as the fast-moving landscape below came into full view outside the airship. “Can I get some cat stickers for Biscuit, ma’am?”
“We’re about to leap off a moving airship and you’re talking to me about stickers?!” Alice shouted back disapprovingly.
“I was forced to work for the fucking idiots in the Golden Fangs gang,” Chloe replied loudly, taking a moment as she often did to mentally thank Genie for getting her out of that situation and taking out the worst of them. “This is nothing compared to those days!”
Alice had heard the stories about the thuggish gang many times from Chloe and Jonathan, and didn’t dispute the fact that it had given the brave redhead a thick skin, especially as she’d been more or less a live-in Bo
ok Wielder slave for them in her tender early teens.
The airship had slowed considerably on its descent, but the yellow sun-kissed grass below was still rolling along much quicker than Alice had imagined, and she made her face a mask of determination to hide her flourishing fears, for her troopers and the excited Book Wielder’s benefit.
“Move out!” Alice yelled as she charged down the Judge’s massive rear ramp.
“Go, Biscuit, go!” Chloe added eagerly, as though she was embarking on a roller coaster ride.
The Raptorkors’ turned their gentle trots into full-on sprints, and their clawed feet clattered and clanked against the corrugated metal flooring. They quickly bent their legs and sprang upwards and away from the ramp, leaping off the airship and into the sky.
Chloe let out a cheery scream of pure elation as they plummeted towards the ground, and Alice bit the inside of her lip and held on to the Raptorkor’s reins for dear life.
The mounts opened their small wings, spread their silver feathers, and activated their hover-fields. A warm, icy blue glow spread through the Raptorkors’ wings, allowing them to defy gravity’s grasp and slow their plummet into a peaceful controlled glide down towards the ground.
The squad relaxed slightly as their metallic mounts carried them through the air, over the speeding cars on the elevated Mega Highway’s multiple lanes and then across the adjacent multi-tracked Great Railway. Passengers on board a quaint old steam train rushed to the windows to get a good look at the Justiciars, and Chloe and Karamo gave them a playful wave despite the disapproving look on Alice’s face.
The Raptorkors hit the ground running, and their riders felt only the slightest of bumps as their hover-fields eased the transition. Their artificial wings folded back, and their powerful legs propelled them across the barren plain leading towards the coastal town of Smithston, kicking up giant clouds of brown and yellow dust in their wake.
A handful of dim-witted bone wolves and a few three-foot long malorbeetles tried their luck against the mounted Justiciars, bursting out of their shallow dwellings and tunnels as the mechanical Raptorkors stomped by, but the simpleminded monsters were cut down or blasted apart as soon as they made the fatal error to pounce.
Either side of Smithston were industrial sectors comprised of warehouses, small factory units, busy docks with tall yellow cranes, and shipping yards filled with stacked cargo containers. It was a common pattern repeated throughout the towns and villages spread across the curved Desem coastline, as before the merger the Nation of Industria had been the World GOVT’s industrial backbone, as well as its primary source of Deep Vein Oil.
Alice didn’t need to use her HCD to find directions for shipping yard seven; a fireball smashed into a crane in the distance, and was quickly followed by a spray of snowy air that quelled the intense flames before the metal could melt. The sound of gunfire grew louder with every stride, and dark plumes of smoke were rising into the overcast sky.
She veered her mount to the south, along a barrier of barbed wire and rusty iron tank traps, until they reached a wide road that linked Smithston to the Mega Highway. The Lord Imperator had planned on ploughing right through to the other side and heading over another sandy plain to reach the shipping yard under siege, but a convoy of fast-moving trucks hauling forty-foot containers soon blocked the Justiciars’ way.
The mounts looked ahead and calculated a preferable course but were unable to find a decent path across the road at their current velocity, especially as the large trucks were weaving around the other vehicles and even disregarding what side of the road they were driving on at times, so the Raptorkors came to a gradual halt.
Chloe and Alice both let out an impatient grunt as the Raptorkors plodded safely to the edge of the road, and Karamo wiped the dust from his shaven head and eyed the vehicles critically.
“We should pull them over. Something isn’t right…” the dark-skinned Vampire Nightclaw said with a frown.
“They’re probably just eager to escape the fighting,” Chloe said, brushing off the dirt from her pale skin and black dress. “Isn’t that right, Biscuit?”
Chloe’s mount shook its head side to side, surprising the Book Wielder, and she raised an eyebrow in confused shock.
Alice was in a rush to get to the source of the disturbance and put an end to the rebellious Daedrian Darkheart, but she’d worked closely with Karamo before and knew that he had a knack for sensing trouble.
“I’ll stop one,” Alice said, pulling her pistol from her thigh compartment. “It’s not too late to call an airship or two back to subdue the rest if it comes to it.”
Before the Lord Imperator could continue, one of the heavy goods vehicles pulled up beside them (to the angry honks of the cars behind), and a middle-aged woman in a hi-vis leant out of the window.
“Hey, thank the Goddesses you Justiciars showed up!” the woman said in a husky voice. “The Darkheart Organisation started trashing the place!”
“Do you know why? What are they after?” Alice asked, eyeing the woman and her truck suspiciously.
“And what are you all transporting?” Karamo asked in a friendly voice. “Must be awfully important to risk bringing it with you.”
“Hell if I know—on all counts,” the driver shrugged. “The supervisor said these containers were filled with valuables for Neo-Industria, and that we had to get ‘em out and on the way south ASAP. We don’t tend to argue with the boss-man. Besides, this is my cab, and I ain’t gonna let some rambunctious rebels hurt my baby girl. I just thought I ought to warn ya, they’ve got more than guns and grenades at their disposal!”
“Like what?” Alice begrudgingly asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “They did somethin’ to a Desem Pat’ wizard—”
“Mage,” Chloe corrected, as an explosion roared in the distance.
“Right, well…” The driver paused. “It works for Darkheart now, it just straight up turned on its own people!”
“The Darkheart Organisation are against all things magical, including Supernaturals,” Karamo challenged, unconvinced.
The woman put her hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just telling y’all what I saw.”
“We should take a look in the back,” Karamo suggested to Alice in an almost inaudible whisper. “What if she’s trying to throw us off?”
On an ordinary day Alice would’ve taken the Vampire’s advice, as she loved to be thorough, but she had a million places to be at once; the fighting in the shipping yard seemed to be growing more out of control by the minute, and if there was a chance for her to capture or kill the terrorist Daedrian then she had to take it.
A clanging noise and the shrill sound of tearing metal made Alice jump, and she instinctively aimed her pistol and her Raptorkor’s machinegun towards the lower half of the truck. However, she soon lowered them when she saw that Chloe had used her mount’s claws to slice and rip a long hole in the side of the metal container.
“Just a shit-ton of palletised PC desktops,” Chloe began, using Biscuit’s red eyes as torches as she peered in-between the gaps of the clear wrapped computers, “and a few server cabinets on the other side. Nothing special. Nothing shifty.”
“Geez!” the driver gasped as she saw the damage. “Is that how folks say thank you on the Orphan Isle?” she asked angrily. “No wonder Darkheart thinks so highly of y’all.”
“Sorry… and thank you for your warning,” Alice said awkwardly.
“Pfft,” the driver sneered, as she pulled away to catch up with the rest of the convoy.
“Whoopsie. Oh, well—let’s go,” Chloe said, pulling an apologetic face.
“Come on, let’s get a move on,” the Lord Imperator said, not wasting another second.
Karamo narrowed his red eyes as he watched the heavy goods vehicles pick up speed.
With all the retreating trucks gone, the traffic lessened, and the few remaining cars with slightly calmer drivers allowed the Raptorkors an
d their riders to pass before continuing with their journey.
The Justiciars were soon charging along again, dodging the scattered defences that would discourage the local beasts from wandering out of their habitats, until they reached another road and a tall chain-link fence opposite shipping yard seven.
The Raptorkors made short work of the fence and whizzed across the road in a flash, before slowing just enough to dodge another retreating truck.
“They’re fighting at the back!” a man yelled from the cab as he drove off as quickly as the vehicle would allow.
The Justiciar squad passed by a smouldering security hut and entered the organised maze of cargo containers, prefab shacks, portable toilets, cranes, trucks, and repurposed trailers. There were casualties all around the yard, amidst patches of scorched earth and blood-stained slabs of bent metal, but Alice soon noticed that none of the dead were dock workers; they were all NDR militia in their smart grey uniforms, and leather-clad Desem Patriot bikers.
Chloe, Alice, and the other Justiciars were half-way into the shipping yard before they got a good look at the fighting. At first glance, it seemed like the yard’s workforce was mounting a defence against the NDR and Desem Patriots, and the Justiciars hesitated in confusion, unsure of who to shoot at.
An aged man revealed himself on the top of a tall stack of containers with a loud obscene comment, and soon cleared matters up for the Justiciars. He was wearing a pair of orange hi-vis overalls and armed with an old Great War rocket launcher. He fired his weapon directly at the Justiciars and their mounts, but the roaring rocket was frozen solid by a hairy biker who popped out from the side of a frost-coated brick office with a melted radio antenna on top.
“Get out of the open, quickly!” the Desem Patriot frost Mage yelled.
Karamo dispersed himself into a cloud of bats and scattered into the sky. The man in the orange overalls ducked down and tried to reload the rocket launcher, but the Vampire Nightclaw had already reformed behind him and elongated his nails into deadly talons that cut into the human’s flesh easier than a hot knife through butter.