Meanwhile, the PDF army continued to close on the mountain.
As the explosions from the first barrage abated, the StormCrows amazed themselves with the sheer numbers of their own that had somehow survived. Their relief was short lived however as another barrage followed, striking higher up the mountain. The result was similar to the first. A third and final barrage was fired just over the heads of the advancing armor, preceding the inevitable clash of melee combat. The third barrage struck all around the base of the mountain and landed on the plain in front of each army, attempting to eliminate as many defenders as possible before the armies closed on one another.
There was no coordinated defense of the mountain; the meager defenses were simply overwhelmed. Strategy devolved into chaos as each pilot and turret operator simply attempted to defend themselves, further aggravating the problem. Damage reports filtered in from throughout the ranks, quickly escalating in severity. Calls for medical evacuation and emergency repairs overwhelmed the dedicated channels as the responder teams sprang into action.
The majority of the StormCrow MARS units had hidden in the shadow of the mountain. A trench had long ago been carved out for the Furies and Justices to shelter in, leaving little of their vulnerable frames exposed to the swelling maelstrom of violence. The plain in front of them had been flattened in order to provide their pilots with clear fields of fire. Technicians flittered between the metal beasts, attaching lines carrying extra coolant and supplemental power. Other technicians stood nearby, ready to begin reloading munitions. They were protected by a blast shield comprised of meters thick permacrete lined with ballistic glass. The bulwark crackled from the presence of energy shields forming a roof overhead, sheltering the Mechs from the barrages erupting around them.
The blast shields had taken the brunt of the forces, displaying the ferocity of the action. Another repeat of the barrages would cave large sections of it in, burying the units it was intended to protect. Yet more workers crawled out onto the blast shield, sealing the deep cracks that had formed. Generators deep in Mount Olympus hummed deeply, directing their immense power toward recharging the outer energy shields.
The turret operators that had survived cleared the rubble from around their weapons, drawing deeply on the mountains power supply to recharge their own shields and supply their laser weapons with power. The turret operators watched in collective terror as the plain in front of them came alive, completely covered by the sheer numbers of drones, armored vehicles, and war machines that were now approaching. The effect of their combined forward movement was surreal, seeming as if the plain itself was slowly crawling towards them.
PDF laser weapons replaced the missiles and rockets that had been expended against the mountain. Sharp cracks pierced the thin atmosphere, followed by rolling claps of thunder, reported strikes against the weakened energy shields that were still attempting to recharge. Bright flashes arced across the intervening spaces, too fast for the human eye to register. The lasers targeted with pinpoint accuracy, firing in groups involving hundreds of units at a time in order to overwhelm the shields in a specific area. The clever PDF pilots used their numbers to maximum effect, targeting a battery or MARS unit that had revealed itself too early and that was now exposed.
Quick thinking rebel commanders ordered anti-laser smoke to be launched. Tubes throughout the mountainside immediately began coughing as they responded. The use of siege level laser weapons by the PDF had been anticipated, the first shells set inside each of the numerous mortar tubes inset throughout defensive lines were loaded with shells that dispersed a thick grey, occluding smoke that refracted the beams, weakening their attacks by orders of magnitude. Columns of white, black, and grey smoke curled around the mountain, concealing it from the PDF sensors, forcing the enemy pilots to continue firing blindly. The StormCrows had long ago placed sensors throughout the plain, wiring them directly to the mountain so that their own weapons were not encumbered by the smoke and dust. Rebel gunners and turret operators simply switched targeting programs on their weapons and continued their fusillade.
The chess pieces continued to move in turn as the game of life and death continued evolving. It was now the rebels’ turn to respond in kind. Under the protective envelope of smoke and dust, the rebels began targeting the approaching Mech armor and drones. Dozens of the advancing Stalkers erupted in a steadily growing inferno as the StormCrows began fighting back. Commander Ultor gave the command for unleashing the artillery against the approaching horde. The heavy artillery had been forced to wait in their sheltered bunkers until the opening PDF barrages had passed. Hundreds of long mortar tubes and even larger artillery pieces rose from their places of concealment inside the thick permacrete walls that protected them. They fired in concentrated waves, their operators having lowering the azimuth of their weapons until they could direct their shells towards the front ranks of incoming enemy, dealing huge amounts of destruction.
The PDF laser weapons were now forced onto their back foot, having to focus on destroying the incoming munitions that created huge swaths of destruction in the ranks of armor approaching the mountain. PDF Mech armor repeatedly fired their own anti-laser smoke, increasing their pace of advance, desperately attempting to close the distance in order to engage in close quarters combat where they could bring the full effect of their numbers to bear. The front line of Mech armor had been composed of heavily armored drones followed by outdated models of Stridents and Stalkers, serving as fodder for those who followed behind them. The first waves of PDF mech armor panicked, breaking formation to rush the mountain and in doing so, paid a heavy toll for their loss of courage.
Time of Attack +2 Minutes:
A faint white light appeared on the distant horizon, shattering the oppressive blackness pressing all around her, threatening to consume her. In the distance were the faint sounds of someone knocking. So this is death, Alyona said to herself.
The light slowly approached, steadily growing in intensity until it threatened to erase her very existence with its blinding presence. The knocking sound grew louder, urgently interjecting itself on her thoughts, interrupting them. She lost her train of thought. A sense of regret washed over her as she absently wondered what she was trying to remember. Some thought pressed against her addled mind, trying to force itself into clarity, but her mind refused, instead choosing the bliss of oblivion.
Suddenly, the knocking sound was replaced by something else, something her instincts told her she knew. With a sudden burst of clarity, she realized that she was hearing words. “Are ….. ‘kay?”
The light grew even brighter, somehow becoming even more painful, and then the words repeated themselves, this time a little clearer. “… Are you … okay?”
Pain enveloped her, burying her under a sea of agony as it imprinted itself upon her soul. Accompanying the pain were the mental faculties of awareness and understanding. She could not feel pain if she was dead.
The words came again, “Alyona, are you okay? Answer me, shake your head, move damnit!”
Alyona cracked open her eyes, crying from the agony wracking her body, writhing under the torture of the light piercing into her soul. She emitted a soundless wail, her voice betraying her as the sound of her silent scream erupted in her mind. Absently, she felt hands roughly grab her pilot’s suit, struggling as they lifted her body into the air. Then she gradually descended for what seemed an eternity before finally coming to rest in a soft, protective embrace.
“She has a severe concussion! Keep her neck and back steady! Careful now you idiots! Lower her down, gently! I said gently! Easy now! Set her down next to the other two! Where the hell is the doctor?!” The words drifted around her, formless in the void until she lost consciousness again.
* * * * *
Alyona drifted in and out of consciousness, never quite sure which state which state she was in until an old, kind, out of focus face with a snow-white beard appeared in front of hers, blessedly blocking out the intrusive light.
&n
bsp; “My dear, can you hear me?” said the beard.
She ignored the beard as best she could as it scratched against her face. Something began prodding her eyes and ears. Then, her right eye was forcefully pulled open, immediately followed by a bolt of light searing into her soul, blinding her. She gasped, trying to recover from the torment and then the process repeated itself on her left eye. Alyona did her best to fight off her assailant, weakly flinging her arm at the vicious beard attacking her.
“There you are. I was starting to get worried.” The beard said, half mockingly and half paternally as it ignored her meager attempt at self-defense. Finished with its interrogation, the beard turned away, conferring with its co-conspirator. The level of volume dropped, “She’ll be alright in a few more minutes while the worst effects of the concussion pass. I’ve given her narcotics to help with the pain.”
The beard returned, although this time not as closely. “You were very fortunate, you and both your friends, no broken bones for any of you. I’m afraid you came out the worst with your concussion, but otherwise given enough time, you will be completely fine.”
At the mention of her friends, Alyona turned her head, struggling to open her eyes as she desperately searched for Kiryl and Vera. She spotted Vera a few feet away from her, lying on a portable medical cot, which in retrospect was similar to the one she realized that she was laying on. Kiryl was standing, talking with Soren, their chief mechanic. Alyona grimaced as she saw Kiryl standing there. That indestructible bastard, she thought angrily to herself, confused why she should be jealous that he was not hurt like her and Vera.
As clarity slowly returned, she realized that Kiryl’s legs were shaking as he stood there, but he refused any kind of assistance. His arm was in a sling, but otherwise he looked unharmed. When he turned towards Alyona and saw her glaring at him, he sheepishly waved his hand.
Soren noticed her attention and broke off the conversation, walking towards her. “Kurtis called and had us open the airlocks. We found your units on the ledge outside. All three of you were inside, unresponsive. Athena gave us the overrides we needed and my teams retrieved your Mech armor, bringing them inside. It’s a good thing too, the PDF began their main attack a few minutes ago and we really need you three back out there. Kurtis has been given clearance to join you when you are ready to fight again.”
Seeing her eyes focus on his face, Soren awkwardly continued the briefing as if she were in full control of her mental faculties and actually cared about what he was saying. “We’ve spent the last twenty minutes re-arming your units with their standard load-outs, replenishing their spent munitions, and replacing damaged armored plating. That last bit is taking the most time. We’ll have your units ready to go in less than five minutes. Can you fight?”
After a moment of silence, Alyona realized that Soren had said something requiring a response from her. She fought to remember what he said, struggling against the confusion pressing down on her, smothering her mind. Next to her, the beard spoke, making her jump a bit. She had already forgotten about its existence and now began worrying that her evil nemesis would return to torment her some more.
“I may have misjudged the appropriate dosage levels for the narcotics,” the beard commented sardonically.
Soren grimaced and then tried again. “Alyona, can you fight? The main battle has begun. They need you out there. They need DawnsLight.”
Seconds passed as Soren and the beard crowded around her, listening intently for her reply. Behind them, a dozen mechanics stood stock still, no one making a sound so they could hear her reply. Abruptly, something shifted in her mind and some clarity returned. Alyona realized that an overpowering sense of responsibility began flooding her body with resolve, forcing it to move through sheer force of will even though she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.
Alyona looked first at Vera, surprised that she was returning her stare. A fierce resolve smoldered in Vera’s piercing eyes, answering her unasked question. Next, Alyona met Kiryl’s gaze. He no longer wore an expression of chagrin, instead having replaced it with solid determination. His body no longer shook although he still looked as if he would keel over at any moment. Kiryl nodded in silent acknowledgement.
Alyona’s gaze turned to the beard, and then back to Soren, passing over dozens of mechanics all staring expectantly at her. “Hell yes.” She said, channeling all her willpower to pronounce the two words clearly.
Soren’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and then he unexpectedly erupted in laughter. Around him, the mechanics joined in, his laugh proving contagious. Even the beard began laughing. Their laughter was not the kind friends have with one another after hearing a funny story, but rather a primal release of nervousness. Soren’s frame rocked with heaving laughter until he started crying, wiping the tears away with the backs of his hands to avoid getting grease in his eyes.
“All right then. Five minutes to rest while we get your units squared away and then we’ll get you tucked back inside.” Soren said.
“The cognitive boosters…” Alyona muttered. When the beard turned her way, attentively listening to her, she continued, only able to project a whisper, “Give me … cognitive boosters.”
A hand attached to the beard just patted her on the shoulder as if she were a child being mollified by a parent. “Have an instant effect. You should wait to use them until they are needed. Rest now, while you can. We will administer the boosters when the time comes.”
Alyona relaxed in the cot, allowing the softness to surround her as the fight left her. “The fighting has begun?” She asked, finally realizing what they had been trying to tell her.
Kiryl approached her, holding her hand in his, lending her strength. “It already looks bad. There are simply too many PDF. The StormCrows need us, and now.”
Alyona weakly nodded her head and then placed her hand underneath her, struggling to sit up. Kiryl made to gently push her down, but she shook her head no, sending the world spinning around her. “No!” She commanded, her voice already growing in strength. He stepped back, hesitantly pulling her to a sitting position as he did so. The world continued to spin but Kiryl was right, they were needed, now in this moment more than any other, and the Omnos squad would rise to meet this challenge in the same way they had met everything else. They would stand and face it, together.
With great effort, Alyona stood. She was greeted by Kurtis and Vera standing next to Kiryl. The trio embraced her, lending their strength to one another as they held her until she could stand on her own. At an unspoken command, the blue suited environmental technicians rushed over and began removing and then replacing parts of her pilot’s suit that were damaged. They began a similar process with Kiryl and Vera, while assisting Kurtis with getting his suit on. The four members of the Omnos squad would face this next challenge together, but not alone.
A grinning Soren approached them as soon as they were dressed. He could barely contain his exuberance, “I have another surprise for you.” He said excitedly as he handed them a data slate with an image displayed on it.
“Salvatore,” Alyona whispered softly.
Soren nodded in confirmation. “They are waiting for you. Lead them. Save us.”
The four members of the Omnos squad boarded their units, the twin beacons of hope and purpose blazing brightly inside them, empowering them. Inside DawnsLight, a dedicated monitor showing the status of her unit displayed a damage readout. Portions of DawnsLight were yellow, with a few others, mainly centered at the joints, highlighted orange. Alyona could pull up the different tags listed by each colored indicator and read detailed breakdowns about the extent of the damage, but all she could focus on for the moment was remaining awake.
“NightHawk ready,” Kurtis announced over their frequency in an encouraging prompt, reminding Alyona that as their squadron leader, she was supposed to ask if the other members were ready to launch.
“DawnsLight ready,” Alyona said, continuing the roll call, temporarily forfeiting leadership of th
e squad as she deferred to Kurtis. She ignored the damage readout, unsure whether or not she was truly ready. Instead, she trusted that Soren would not have placed her inside DawnsLight if her unit were not capable of fighting. As soon as the IV in the cockpit inserted itself into the dedicated slot in the arm of her pilot’s suit and pierced her skin, she toggled a small flow of cognitive boosters. Warmth flooded her body as some of the fog in her mind cleared. With a guilty sort of pleasure, she increased the flow of cognitive boosters two more times, suddenly understanding how Mikkhael had become so addicted to them as the rush of awareness and strength flooded her body.
“Atalanta ready,” announced Vera.
“Intrepid ready!” Kiryl announced as his behemoth broke away from the maintenance bay where it had been suspended. “Follow me,” he announced.
At first, Alyona was offended that Kiryl led the way, expecting Kurtis to have assumed the lead. When Intrepid headed towards the service tunnel leading further into the mountain and not the Launchpad or the external airlock, she suddenly became grateful that her friends covered for her while she was recovering, temporarily relieving her from command decisions. As the four units plodded towards the service tunnel, DawnsLight in the rear of the column, Alyona noticed the blinking waypoints on her HUD for the first time. With a sudden burst of curiosity, she turned her head to the right and scanned her vitals, seeing them displayed on the side of the monitor as weak and sluggish as she felt. She blushed as she realized that that Kiryl had already checked her vitals and made the judgment that he was temporarily better suited for leading. Kurtis preferred to support the rest of them from the background anyways. As much as she wanted to be offended by their actions, Alyona instead breathed a grateful sigh of relief that her friends knew her so well.
Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2) Page 40