Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2)

by Jeremy Cunkle

  Despite his best intentions, Commander Ultor gasped as he slowly swung his head from one horizon to the other, staring in horror at the horde of armored war machines darkening the plain in front of him. Stretching for untold miles in every direction was a sea of black contrasting against the backdrop of dried blood that was Mars, whispering dark promises of inevitability. As he stood, dumfounded and overwhelmed, he found himself mesmerized, along with a frightened sense of curiosity, at how every single hellishly black drop of that macabre ocean concurrently churned and heaved across the plain, inexorably drawing closer.

  With a start, he forced himself not to lose hope and accomplish his purpose, the role that over six thousand people whom he named friends and allies looked to him to fulfill. He zoomed in at various PDF locations, looking for signs that the attack was near. Amidst the sea of Mech armor, mechanized vehicles, and infantry, he saw what he needed.

  Commander Ultor removed the VR system from his eyes and then blinked rapidly as his mind struggled to interpret the sudden change of visual stimuli. Having seen that his army stood as ready as possible to defend their mountain, their home, their entire existence, and that the PDF were making their final preparations before attacking, Commander Ultor signaled the general defense of the mountain by keying the command Wild Fire into his center console in the Command and Control center. Immediately, klaxons throughout the entire base began wailing, accompanied by flashing red strobes announcing the call to battle stations and the evacuation of non-essential personnel.

  * * * * *

  The men and women comprising the body of defenders moved from their standby positions, manning their duty stations. The relief of being able to act, for even a few minutes, was quickly replaced with overwhelming fear and anxiety as they, again, remained on standby until the moment their dreaded enemy finally commenced the attack. The tension and bile in their stomachs rose, charging the atmosphere around them with the stink of fear. In those last quiet moments, many of the defenders sought release in the form of verbally squabbling with those they were about to risk life and limb defending, although nothing said in those fraught times would be held against them.

  Many of the personnel moving into position were given specific duties to fulfill and were required to stand by until their specialization was needed. Hundreds of non-combatants waited in the wings, waiting to put out fires and clear rubble as tunnels throughout the mountain collapsed. Teams of nurses and medical technicians stood by waiting to treat and package the wounded for evacuation.

  For the swarms of engineers and support technicians, the klaxons sounded the first rest they had been given in days, as the pilots of the MARS units climbed aboard their machines of war. Many of the engineers collapsed in place, curling up into balls to sleep. Others simply sat down, using anything close as support. Volunteers moved among them, handing out food and drinks to restore their stamina, making them as comfortable as possible. The window of time for the engineers and technicians to rest would fade as soon as the first MARS unit became damaged, returning to their care for repair.

  Crews of basic laborers stockpiled spare munitions at the end of each hangar and throughout the base, making them readily available for the quick reloading and rearming of the giant war machines. Mechanical loaders stood by with crews comprised of men too young to personally go into battle, waiting impatiently for the war machines to return and require their services. Belts of munitions were also fed on automatic tracks to the turrets ringing the outer crust of the mountain and would need to be replaced periodically.

  The worst-case scenario for the engineers would be a MARS unit that became damaged close enough to the front lines to warrant rescuing. Tracked vehicles with thick armor stood by, waiting their turn to be called out onto the field of battle, attach a winch around the torso of the wounded Fury or Justice, and drag it back inside the relative safety of the hangars. Still other heavily armored vehicles waited with munitions on board, ready to perform an urgent resupply of the units in the field in case the hangars became overwhelmed by the MARS units requiring service.

  As the sound of the klaxons announcing general quarters faded, StormCrow war machines shuffled slowly and awkwardly out of the hangars into the hazy shifting dust, pervasive throughout Mars. The sound of their heavy feet plodding heavily across the ground was accompanied by the collective cheers of the base inhabitants. Loudspeakers proclaimed their upcoming triumph, blaring forth encouragement. However, an underlying dread refused to be pushed aside by the hollow ring of their defiance.

  The Omnos squad held their positions stoically. They had earned the respect of the Rebels of Mount Olympus, and had chosen to fight, and die with them on this day; but the individual squad members lacked the leadership charisma of Mikkhael. When it came time to draw inspiration for the battle about to take place with the near certainty of death in service of their cause though, the rebels lacked the vital inspiration so necessary for the situation.

  Commander Ultor’s face appeared on the HUD of every pilot and turret operator, extoling them to fight for their home, their cause, and their lives. He reminded them of their proud history of rebellion against the far superior forces arrayed against them. His short speech radiated strength and honor. He nearly succeeded; but the gap left by the absence of Mikkhael, piloting Starkindler was simply too large. Everyone’s thoughts found a way to drift to the heart of Mount Olympus where Mikkhael still lay, unconscious.

  Across from the StormCrows, on the vast plain, were the PDF. The two armies were separated by less than twenty miles. Hundreds of standard Mech armor were reinforced by entire divisions of heavier and more capable Steyrs, HellCats, and the mercenary Centurion models brought from Earth. Neat formations of Marauder tanks and armored infantry combat vehicles filled the empty spaces with their presence, waiting on the flanks of the massive wedges of Mech armor. Artillery and rocket brigades were scattered in advantageous positions behind them, already pouring their deadly rain of death and destruction down upon the slopes of Mount Olympus. Gouts of flame belched forth from their elongated tubes as cannon shells burst uncontested from their tight confines with an energy and purpose so lacking by the Rebels. Waves of drone bombers passed overhead, blotting out the sky at times with salvos of rockets and guided missiles.

  In the background, still more Chimeras appeared on the distant horizon, disgorging additional reinforcements. Battalions of infantry equipped with atmospheric combat suits carved trenches into the harsh landscape, slowly winding their way forward. More battalions unloaded the long anti-grav trains carrying supplies. Still others erected the hardened tents that would serve as everything from mess halls, to service bays, to medical wards, and command centers. Four additional divisions of infantry were forming alongside the light and medium armored vehicles. They would be some of the last forces to assault the mountain fortress. Contingents of automated construct-o-bots buzzed through the chaos, assisting with everything.

  The StormCrows were able to use the sights of their weapons to view the forces arrayed against them, but there was little need for magnification. The dust cloud being kicked up by the PDF armies, along with the debris being wrung from the mountainside with every strike combined to blot out the sun. The StormCrows were outnumbered nearly 30:1. Many began to lose hope long before the battle even began.

  Thirty Minutes T.U.A.

  “Shit, they’re swarming us!” Kiryl yelled into the squad frequency as dozens of drones dropped altitude at the same time; heading straight for the three Mech armor standing amidst what little remained of their three-permacrete hides. “They got my anti-battery drones and I’m out of mini-rockets!”

  Alerts bleated in their cockpits as targeting lasers locked-on to all three units. Somehow, the trio of Mech armor had managed to fend off the waves of drones and then the Slayers dropped by the Chimera’s, but their continued refusal to die only further angered the already frustrated drone pilots who were clearly determined to wipe them out.

  “Mine too! Vera
yelled in panic. “I’m out of missiles and all of the Avengers are gone!”

  “No arguing, we have to get out of here, now! Kurtis, we are abandoning this position, what the hell do we do?!” Alyona shouted to be heard over the continuous explosions, many of which were too close for comfort.

  Her permacrete hide, which was the only reason she was alive, lay in pieces around her. Those of her two allies were in a similar crumbled state of disrepair. Somehow, the cable attached to the base that supplied her laser rifle with power had survived the continuous barrage of missiles and bombs, but the reserve reservoir for the coolant had been destroyed some time ago, forcing her to pace her shots. Athena had been directing the extra power from the base to her energy shields for some time, dangerously overcharging them as she made every attempt to keep her alive.

  “Sending the path now!” Kurtis answered as he inputted the data onto their HUDs.

  “What the hell is that?!” Vera exclaimed as the guidance markers appeared on her HUD.

  “It’s how we get home! Follow me!” Kiryl yelled as he ripped off the HMD covering his eyes and then dropped the laser rifle. Without hesitating, he dipped Intrepid into a shambling run, headed straight towards the cliff where the plateau ended.

  After a moment of hesitation, DawnsLight and Atalanta followed. The three metal titans ran, their energy shields crackling angrily around them. Small bolts of lightning discharged from the energy shields at random, drawn towards the metal debris crunching under every footfall. They continued building speed, a misstep, or a second too slow, and the missiles from the incoming wave of drones would surely end them. The Mech’s reactors screamed under the strain of maximum power as Athena worked to split the power output between their hungry engines that were beginning to spool up, and the only thing keeping them alive, their energy shields.

  “I hate this!” Alyona screamed as DawnsLight and Atalanta followed Intrepid.

  “I know!” Kiryl yelled as Intrepid ran over the edge of the cliff. “But we don’t have a choice!”

  Alyona watched in horror as the enormous figure of Intrepid plummeted from view, feeling each of the remaining steps until she did likewise slam repeatedly into her stomach. The edge of the cliff approached with terrifying speed, and then disappeared behind her, replaced by a yawning chasm of nothingness.

  An overwhelming sense of disassociation washed over her as she fell, while behind her a solid ball of explosion and roiling flame burst into the sky. In the back of her mind, Alyona realized that she was screaming. She did not stop, she was absolutely terrified. The bottom of her stomach flew upwards as DawnsLight continued falling, leaving her feeling queasy as it constricted her lungs, making it tough to breathe. Her hands had gone clammy and limp. She lost her grip on the flight controls as the rush of butterflies in her stomach overwhelmed her. Blackness intruded on the edge of her consciousness, whispering promises of release from the hurt and terror.

  There was nothing reasonable about jumping off the side of the galaxy’s tallest mountain, especially doing so in order to avoid dying… they traded one certainty for another, as equally quick and resolute. From this height, there was no chance of surviving their plummet to the rocks below. It wasn’t fear that came over Alyona in that moment. Absolute dread overwhelmed her senses, all while she continued screaming.

  Seeing that her charge could not compensate, Athena stepped in, for Vera as well as to a small degree for Kiryl. She deployed the wings on DawnsLight and Atalanta, adjusting the flaps to serve as airbrakes, although they would do little to slow their terrible momentum. As for Intrepid, the wingless Mech armor, she throttled the afterburners to full power in a desperate retro propulsion attempt.

  In the background, Athena calculated a cascade of inputs, factoring in an incalculable minutia of data. The first mile fell away as the afterburners of all three units struggled desperately against the overwhelming inertia of the metal behemoths slicing through the thin atmosphere. Once clear of the ridge and with the afterburners fighting valiantly to provide thrust, she next deployed the emergency parachutes.

  Small explosions behind the shoulders of the three Mech armor occurred, explosively detaching an armored plate covering the parachutes. The parachutes deployed, but unlike Earth where the atmosphere provided enough drag for the parachutes to “grab” the air around them, the parachutes only managed to slow their descent. Only Vera’s unit, Atalanta, was able to obtain any serious reduction in the rate of free-fall as her unit was the smallest.

  Over the squad frequency, Kurtis could be heard screaming. “Soren! Soren you bastard! Open the exterior airlocks to the hangar! Right now Soren!”

  Alyona knew that she going to die. As she continued to fall, she felt her sense of awareness slip away, suddenly becoming very drowsy but still alert. Seemingly in third person she watched DawnsLight continue falling, idly recognizing that they had now dropped two miles.

  Below, a great plume of dust rose into the air, followed a second later by the thunderclap of an explosion. Alyona knew then that Intrepid had crashed into the ledge below them, and any moment now she would follow suit. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the end. She did not care anymore. In the end, their efforts to save their friend had been in vain. She whispered goodbye to Mikkhael moments before DawnsLight slammed into the ledge next to Intrepid.

  Ten Minutes T.U.A.

  “When will it begin?”

  That question was repeated in the minds of every StormCrow, and even every member of the PDF. The overwhelming fear that took hold before any life or death struggle was impartial to race, religion, gender, creed, or political affiliation.

  Commander Ultor guided his troops through their preparations with the resolve of a Captain steering his ship through the impossibly high waves of a stormy sea. His legs were shoulder width apart, feet planted firmly on the ground as if he were part of the mountain itself, hands at his hips as he barked a steady series of commands that the technicians surrounding him relayed throughout the ranks.

  The same scene was being repeated on the opposing side as General Hafnos assumed direct control of the army, leading from the field as the collective forces of Mars Industries readied their forces for the attack.

  An ominous silence swept over the battlefield as even the big guns went momentarily silent. Someone on the rebel side keyed their mic, accidentally broadcasting on an open channel, “Oh shit, here they come!”

  As if his words were prophetic, the sky went dark as an unbelievable number of rockets, missiles, and artillery shells launched in unison towards the mountain. The neat formations of Mech armor, drones, mechanized infantry combat vehicles, Marauder heavy tanks, drones, and infantry arrayed in neat formation out on the plain lurched into action. Hundreds of lightly armored, unarmed, and outdated land based drones raced to the front, forming a skirmish line as they hunted for traps to spring, ready to sacrifice for the greater good.

  Behind them were Stalkers, scout Mech armor equipped with powerful sensors and four powerful missiles. The next wave was comprised of large mechanized drones on treads, the mighty Hunter class, equipped with a large cannon similar to a tank. Above them flew hundreds of Wasps and SkyHunters. The airborne drones targeted weapon systems on the side of the mountain. Thus began their assault.

  For several moments the world turned dark, the weak sunlight blocked by the sheer mass of airborne metal and explosives. Gun sights on both sides of the fray automatically switched to thermal imaging while the barrages passed by overhead. In their wake trailed a wail, echoing from above as if the planet emitted a piercing cry of despair for the lives about to be lost. Then the impacts began. They were felt more then heard as the successive barrages hurtled towards the side of the mountain where they would end themselves in fiery detonations.

  Through it all, Father Mars, Roman god of War, watched proudly as his children prepared to slaughter one another wholesale. Over his shoulder stood the pale ghastly form of Death, enveloped by the ripped tatters of its cloak th
at eternally swallowed light, billowing behind him in an unseen wind. The ghastly figure gripped its infamous scythe in both hands, the one with which it had cut short billions of lives, salivating at the unholy bounty laid out for his reaping. Demons of chaos fell across the area stretching under the gaze of the pair of gods who were momentarily allied, falling in an ink-black rain, descending upon the unaware mortals, driving whomever they touched towards madness. Humanity and all of the feelings associated with it were suspended, ripped away and cast aside as temporarily unnecessary, while the armies closed on one another to do battle.

  In that moment, every StormCrow pointed their weapon directly in the air, not needing to be told to attempt to knock down as many of the incoming munitions as possible. They cut loose with every weapon they could in conjunction with the air defense turrets. Many of the turrets were designed specifically to serve as anti-missile systems. They were split half-and-half, with some using small lasers that detonated the warheads of the incoming munitions in mid-air; and others that fired thousands of small rounds a minute, shredding incoming munitions. Small mortar tubes launched their payloads to hover hundreds of feet away from the mountain, detonating automatically as PDF munitions triggered their proximity sensors.

  The very air around the mountain burst into flames as the first wave of munitions exploded. Mount Olympus itself let loose a terrible groan as it shifted under the impact of such unmitigated fury. Geysers of dirt, rock, and permacrete fountained forth from the thick crust of Martian soil. Low clouds of black smoke gathered in the air, choking out the sun’s rays serving as a portent, as potent a symbol as any. The space between the low cloud and the Martian surface flashed orange, red, and then blinding white as thousands of munitions detonated simultaneously. Thunderclaps raced across the plain, felt more then heard as they overwhelmed any sense of realism or explanation, only to be followed by the next barrage.