Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2)

by Jeremy Cunkle

  Another mercenary turned to engage her from the distance, recognizing the threat she presented and ably moved to neutralize it and thereby turn the battle back in their favor. “Vera, target designation MU-05 is about to engage us. Recommend launching remaining Mech killers, preparing defensive measures, and engaging directly,” said Argos, cheerfully chiming in through her helmet over the noise of the alarms.

  In response, she launched the last pair of missiles towards the mercenary unit, which proceeded to destroy them in mid-air with its mini cannons. A steady tone announced the rifle was charged and ready to fire. She had one more shot left before needing to allow the weapon to cool down and Argos identified a vulnerability in the enemy’s shields. He guided her shot which struck with pinpoint accuracy, separating the arm from the torso at the shoulder, forcing the unit to drop its primary weapon. Vera felt sick to her stomach and nearly threw up into her helmet, but realizing there was no choice she used her alternate weapon; a mid-ranged cannon that fired a high-velocity slug with a long reload time straight at the pilot compartment. Her second shot punctured through the equivalent of the sternum, plowing straight through the fuel cell core. The unit erupted in a metal geyser of shrapnel as she fainted.

  Alyona recovered as the PDF line was decimated under the withering fire of the Furies, buying her the time she needed to get back in the fight. DawnsLight shuddered under repeated strikes as the PDF ignored the Furies and focused on what they believed to be their mortal enemy Starkindler. Knowing that she had to get in the fight as rapidly as possible to prevent any StormCrows being killed, she reassumed control; taking a risk and prioritizing their lives over her own, she took the fight to the PDF now that she was ready for them.

  Engaging afterburners to full, she rocketed back up and over the hill straight into the teeth of the waiting enemies. Both sides attacked simultaneously, wading into the fray with vigor. Warnings blared in the cockpit notifying her of the energy shields near collapse under the onslaught, but she gritted her teeth and held steady, eliminating the Slayer closest to her with a flourish before partially extending the wings for balance and leaning hard into a tight arc that disrupted the enemy lines of fire. As she did so, Argos urgently interrupted her plans. “Intrepid is being hard pressed. Recommend using radar guided missiles on two targets that will be weakened before their impact.”

  Riding the targeting designation, Alyona destroyed the pair of shield less mercenary unit with her first salvo of missiles while continuing to engage the line of Slayers with her main weapons. Argos continued launching missiles from range, sending half a dozen smaller Arrows as well as four of the larger Sidewinders at the remaining pair of mercenaries. Arrows were short stubby missiles with only minor guidance capabilities that had minimal propellant in them in order to pack the largest punch possible. Sidewinders were nearly quadruple the size of Arrows, could travel thirty miles at extreme speeds and homed in on their target by themselves or used radar-locking abilities from the host via a fly-by-wire system. They also were capable of being guided by satellite with Argos controlling them, a feature currently unavailable due to the communication network gridlock, or serve as fire-and-forget missiles that used an IFR sensor as a heat seeker to home in on their target, rendering them both versatile and resilient.

  Caught off balance in the crossfire between Vera and Kiryl, the Mercenaries were unprepared for Alyona’s fusillade. The sudden barrage ripped through their defenses, and between the three Omnos squad members combined assault, the remaining Mercenaries were overwhelmed and eliminated.

  With the Furies hidden behind the lee side of the hill, retreating after drawing enemy fire, Alyona raced to close the distance between her and the remaining Slayers, leaving herself exposed to draw their fire. She was their only target, and one they punished mercilessly. Even though their laser weapons were underpowered from their weak fuel cell reactors, dozens of strikes landed against her shields in rapid succession, causing her to have to drop them altogether and allow them to dissipate or risk the explosive blowback when they collapsed. Cursing her luck, she traded punches with the Slayers, using the main cannons in a contest of brute force. The irony of using the most technologically advanced war machine ever made in a feat of raw destruction left a bitter taste in her mouth that she determined to never allow to happen again. Barely forty five seconds passed with both sides trading salvos.

  The Slayer pilots were maneuvering for advantage, firing as rapidly as possible while Alyona steadily reduced their numbers one by one. That was until Kiryl, who recovered from finishing off his fight with the mercenary units, moved into position and instantaneously devastated the remaining Slayers from behind.

  They had been the last Mech armor standing of the PDF task force. Xilan’s Justices had faced off against the remaining squad, and half of the Slayers, destroying seven of them. Two of the enemy pilots recognized reality and ejected, their parachutes were even now falling rapidly towards the surface, the lack of air pressure meaning there was almost no drag for the parachutes to slow down their fall. The Justices chose not to shoot the enemy pilots down. If the fall did not kill them, their limited oxygen meant that nature would almost certainly render them a far crueler ending. The chances of being rescued by a Search and Rescue (SAR) team this far out from civilization were incredibly small in the limited time available to them.

  A systems check showed DawnsLight to be little worse for wear while the StormCrows went about searching for any other PDF survivors they may have overlooked. A glance at the IFF monitor showed that one Fury had been destroyed during the battle; but the pilot had been able to eject in time, being safely recovered by a fellow pilot. A Justice had been permanently disabled. It would have to remain behind and maybe a salvage team could be sortied and sent to retrieve it before the PDF own salvage teams arrived, but the chances were unlikely. The Justice would be written off, a harsh loss as there were not any units able to replace the stolid war-machines. Three other Justices were damaged to various degrees, but were able to make the trek back to base. Overall, when factoring in the ambush by twice their number, the carefully hidden squadrons, and especially the appearance of capable mercenary units, the battle had been a resounding success. Still, Alyona could not help but feel uneasy about the situation. She was well aware that if they had followed instructions there would not have been a battle at all.

  Alyona tasked Argos with the uncomfortable task of notifying Mount Olympus of the battle and the results, as well as requesting a salvage team for the Justice once they reached a point where they could communicate via line of sight laser. Any other form of communication was impossible until Aurora’s shells clogging the communication spectra were eliminated. Argos would also request that an automated anti-grav train be sent to meet them partway. The StormCrows used up most of their fuel in the fight and the train would serve the dual purpose of carrying not only the wounded units, but also the pair of Justices still in decent shape. The Justices were the slowest members of the convoy, and getting rid of them meant their return could be considerably sped along.

  Most importantly of all though were the mercenary units. Extra attention was paid to their remains before leaving the area. Scans were taken of their reactors, types of unit, and confirmation that all of the pilots were killed. Back at the base, the scans would be turned over to the security division who would work to determine the types of mercenary Mech armor in more detail, their manufacturer, which group they belonged to, weapons and shield capability as well as many other factors. The StormCrow pilots were not interested one way or the other in taking PDF prisoners, knowing that the enemy pilots were simply cogs in an enormous war machine with no power to determine their own fate; however, the mercenaries were something entirely new and extremely dangerous. So rare was the taking of prisoners out in the harsh wilderness, that if they did manage to capture someone, they would have to build a temporary jail to interrogate them until a more permanent solution could be instituted.

  Xilan and Ulric s
ignaled the “Ok,” after checking everything out with Lieutenant Jacobson. Vera and Alyona simply flashed the all clear, neither trusting their voices nor wanting to communicate via the laser-linked video feed. Together, they began the slow trek back to Mount Olympus, the taste of their first victory bittersweet indeed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT – GENERAL AKARI

  “Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth.” – Simone de Beauvoir

  General Akari entered the Martian capitol city of Hellas via the automated anti-grav train. He traveled non-descriptly, avoiding the carriage specifically set aside for military personnel. A General mixing with enlisted personnel in such a confined space was not ideal for anyone involved. So instead, he simply purchased his own ticket in economy class and dressed in civilian clothes, but made sure to make the cross country journey at a time when there would be few other passengers. There was still plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable, so while he in part was being frugal; there was more at stake than simple comfort. Few people appreciated the fact that while Mars may not be as large as Earth, without oceans, their landmasses were roughly the same size but without the continents to add variety on Mars.

  Rumors were circulating about terrorists targeting Command Staff in increasingly brazen assassinations, and if he happened to have an “accident,” while en-route, then the knowledge he carried would be lost with him and the damage that would do to his government would potentially be devastating. He may disagree with many of the choices made by those he served, and he might be seeking higher office in order to effect change himself, but his loyalty was absolute. He pledged an oath to serve and protect the government and he would do everything possible to ensure he kept his word, meaning that he would also ensure he did everything possible to avoid being assassinated.

  Once inside the great domed capitol of Hellas, he headed straight for his objective without deviating. Hellas was the first great Martian city, located along the floor of an offshoot of the Mariner Valley, which by itself was multiple times larger than the Grand Canyon back on Earth. Even to this day, domes continued to be the habitat of choice for cities and were nearly all located at the bottoms of canyons or in craters in order to render construction easier and shield them from harsh Martian storms. Like the capitol, many were filled beyond capacity, and new domes were continuously being built adjacent to, or set slightly apart from the main habitats, unable to keep pace with the rapidly swelling population. Remoteness from the main domes, with their spaceports and dirty rows of cramped towers that consisted of living spaces, was considered to be a mark of someone’s station or measure of their social power and wealth. Originally, separate exterior domes were reserved only for industry, but as millions of new immigrants landed planet side every week, overcrowding was becoming an increasingly pressing problem, one that new construction was having difficulty keeping pace with.

  The anti-grav train terminal was underground, like nearly every other public building, from which he exited into the center of the main dome itself, the air smelling brackish and stale. Overtaxed air filters that would never be considered acceptable on a military base struggled to recycle the same air over-and-over again for a population much larger and more self-serving than they were intended to service. He immediately headed to report to his friend General Baknon, whom he had been assigned to serve after his demotion in all but name. As he made his way to the squat, ugly, and purely utilitarian massive grey box that served as Military Command, set on the distant side of the main dome, he barely paid any attention to the successive high-rises packed tightly together. They loomed over the narrow streets, barely serving to house the millions of squalid inhabitants who mistakenly believed living near the seat of power would benefit them in some way. This meant that he did not notice the sad state of the commoners in the streets desperately trying to make ends meet, scrambling and cutting each other down at any meager opportunity that presented itself. Or that he did not notice the discontent rolling from the populace in steady waves, slowly growing in strength, threatening to wash over and inundate the beach which the Mars Industries government represented.

  When he arrived, he changed back into his uniform and proceeded to report for duty. He wound his way through the physical maze of bureaucracy that gave substance to the figurative kind the only way possible, with the help of an aide guiding him. Hours of security checks, obtaining security clearances, and the typical hurrying up and wait that defined military life, even as a General. He found himself becoming increasingly irritated by the stupidity of the entire system and about to lose his temper when he finally found himself in front of General Baknon’s office. “Thank you Sergeant. That will be all.” He said as he smoothed his impeccable uniform and regained his composure, dismissing the Sergeant who did not hesitate to find something else to do before he could change his mind.

  A knock, permission to enter, and then a whirlwind run through of the current tactical situation were all summed up by standing next to his friend and mentor of many years near the small exterior window that was a rare perk in the stoic command center, staring out at the view of the wilderness beyond the dome. After a few moments that were not uncomfortable, his friend turned to him and broke the silence, “The whole thing’s gone to shit.”

  He would have laughed at the out of place comment, but without needing a reference to the ‘it,’ he knew the sober assessment was true. “Where do I fit in?” Instantly focusing on the business at hand, this was not a sightseeing tour and there were problems that needed solving.

  General Baknon turned and headed to his featureless, perfectly clean desk, which instantly converted into a useable screen interface at his approach, not setting down the partially full drink in his hand while shifting through electronic reports. By rapidly waving and gesturing his hand, he leafed through the reports until he found the one he wanted. They were displayed on his desk in a way that only someone sitting behind the desk could read them. He then balled his hand into a fist like he was grabbing the report out of the air, and lazily simulated throwing it to the slate in Akari’s hands which dinged, notifying him of a received file.

  The report was a summary of all the attacks on PDF personnel on a day-by-day basis that occurred in the last month, broken up by region and other identifying criteria. Just a one paragraph summary following each location and time stamp of each attack managed to fill hundreds of pages. After reading some of the highlights, General Akari quickly agreed. “You know, I don’t think it’s us just getting pessimistic in our old age, I really do think everything’s going to shit,” he said as he looked up from the report to his friend, too depressed to read further.

  After thoroughly studying his reaction and evidently seeing what he needed, General Baknon sat down at his desk, settling heavily into the chair and then set down his drink, the act of which, alone made General Akari’s stomach sink with dreaded anticipation as his friend no longer met his eyes. “We need you Marcus, now more than ever. You were doing good work out there in Cerberus, the gods know it wasn’t easy, but you made the best of it and managed to get results with outdated equipment and green troops. That mess at the end, no one predicted that, but someone’s head had to roll and you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That could have happened to any one of us. We have to hold the line, we have to hold the capitol and keep it all from falling apart. And no, I don’t mean those dumbass political appointees who are my esteemed peers, I mean us, as in you and me. No one else sees how big the threat is or just how close everything is to falling apart.”

  The level of brutal honesty his friend expressed floored him. The breach of conduct was so extreme that General Baknon would be shot for treason, dead in the day if anyone else overheard his admission. Much to his surprise, General Baknon did not stop there.

  “I’ve already reassigned you and gotten you a position in High Command overseeing the Armored
Corp around Tharsis. You won’t have any real power, serving instead as a token figure, but maybe you can act behind the scenes to influence all of those jackanapes screwing everything up over there. At the least, you can have access to the whole picture of what is happening and serve as my eyes and ears, and then I will deal with what I can. And then when time allows, we can get you into a position where you can effect real change. You were always the more capable one, able to see what needed done and pull out a victory when we needed it the most.” He paused suddenly, looking very solemn as he obviously debated with himself whether or not to continue. “Which is why I need you to see this.” He said as he again made the air motion of grabbing and sending another file to Akari’s slate.

  General Akari began devouring the report in stunned disbelief from the second his slate chimed in acknowledgement of receiving the file. It was classified as Top Secret – Eyes Only. The fact that Baknon had sent it to him could also see him killed. More than that, what stunned him were the contents of the file, time-stamped only hours ago. An investigative team had been sent to perform an after action analysis about why a battalion of Mech armor were lost to a man during a single action. That in and of itself was not what fascinated him. Sadly, losing a battalion in a single action was no longer the planet-shattering realization it used to be, even if it was part of the Hellfire Brigade, or even the fact that the battalion was partially comprised of the highly capable mercenaries being brought from Earth.