Now this new Mech armor, with its ghastly appearance and impossibly strong energy shields, combined with its ultimately capable pilot, appeared impervious to anything he threw at it. Its sudden appearance brought back all the horrible memories that he had fought so hard to set aside and forget. Even SkyHunters, the newest and most capable drone in the PDF arsenal were easily felled before the terrible might of the demonic war-machine.
With a start, General Akari suddenly realized what was happening. No one would believe him, but he knew without a doubt that the pilot of Starkindler, whose body had never been recovered, was now piloting the new black Mech armor and that someone else was piloting Starkindler. That moment after Starkindler had finally succumbed to the impossible odds arrayed against it and lay in pieces out amidst the Cerberus region had been his greatest achievement. Now, he knew the truth. It instead embodied his greatest failure.
The longer General Akari watched, the more confident he became in his assessment, while simultaneously becoming increasingly intimate with the cold pain of fear.
* * * * *
Not content with limiting itself to the weak airborne drones, Nemesis plummeted to the plain below, landing heavily amidst a regiment of older model Slayers. The outdated units were taken by surprise; only through their sheer numbers were they able to survive the initial onslaught that saw numerous of their brethren fall before they could act. The inexperienced pilots attempted to surround their lone enemy, but they may as well have been fighting underwater while the demon danced around them, meting out death and destruction. The demon taunted them with its sheer supremacy, steadily reducing their numbers. A whirling vortex of death and destruction raced through the regiment of Mech armor, consuming everything in its path.
As if bored with the weakness of its prey, the demon leapt back into the air, once again waging its one sided battle against the airborne drones that had meanwhile replenished their numbers. Hundreds of units converged on its location, desperate to overwhelm the single opponent.
While the carnage continued, maniacal laughter echoed throughout the cockpit, broadcast openly over the PA. The laughter chilled the bones of all who heard it, drone operator and Mech armor pilot alike, further distancing the pilot of the demonic machine from the rest of humanity.
As he fought, Mikkhael simply stepped aside and allowed his instincts free reign. He moved with preternatural ability, anticipating and reacting to his enemies long before they had an opportunity to act. Nemesis was built to amplify his abilities, perfectly tailored to suit his combat style and capabilities. Together, they fought as one entity, perfectly in sync with one another.
They were constantly surrounded by enemies. The airborne drones jostled with another in the enclosed airspace, seeking to find an effective vantage point from which to fight. Their efforts were to no avail. Mikkhael was able to anticipate their movements five, ten, even twenty seconds ahead of their actual moves, overwhelming his enemies before they were able to effectively act. He dictated the flow of battle, forcing the PDF to conform, to react, and to follow his style of fighting, always answering to him.
Mikkhael forced everything from his mind, continuously falling deeper into himself, allowing Nemesis to guide him. He did not breathe, his body naturally falling into a rhythm that responded for him. He did not think, his instincts swung the katana when needed, felling dozens of enemies. He did not hesitate, remaining always in motion. His existence rested on the maxim “movement is life.”
Nemesis maneuvered in tight circles, seemingly acting at random. The great katana spun in wide, controlled arcs, ripping apart an enemy machine with every stroke. No movement was excess or wasted. The cannons hidden by the wings fired continuously, the staccato detonations punctuated by larger detonations as a steady stream of rockets poured forth. The small rockets had almost no fuel, their range limited, every aspect of their being geared for maximum lethality similarly to their host. Unlike Starkindler, Nemesis barely possessed any defensive abilities aside from the all-powerful energy shields, relying solely on its ability to destroy its enemies as rapidly as possible.
Mikkhael was content to continue reaping, having already destroyed nearly two full regiments, when Nemesis finally interacted with him. The HUD in front of Mikkhael zoomed out to show that the remains of the two PDF armies assaulting Mount Olympus had combined into one and begun moving. Their target was clear. This was to be their final assault against Mount Olympus, and there was nothing one unit, regardless of how powerful it was, could do to stop it.
His mind fueled by adrenaline and the cognitive boosting cocktail given to him both in the medical ward and as soon as he entered the cockpit of Nemesis, Mikkhael knew that there was only one option remaining. He keyed the emergency wrist enclosure release and then swung the pilot’s seat to the side of the cockpit towards a keyboard stationed under a dedicated monitor, quickly typing in commands.
With that task accomplished, he swung back into combat position, once again re-assuming control. Without Mikkhael acting as the pilot, Nemesis had taken full advantage of its newfound freedom, taking perverse pleasure in cutting down several nearby drones.
With his hands back in their wrist enclosures, Mikkhael fought to reign in the demonic AI that was seemingly engrossed in a killing frenzy. He gripped the handles tightly and then fought to bring them together while increasing reactor output to its maximum threshold, for now overriding the AI.
“Activate afterburners, maximum burn!” Mikkhael screamed. Before he could continue, he was forced back into his seat as the afterburners immediately engaged, launching them upwards, climbing higher through the steadily thinning atmosphere. “Initiate protocol Titan’s Hammer at designated coordinates. Now!”
Mimicking his physical actions, the tips of the semi-flexible wings bent inwards, seeming to wrap around and encompass the demon rendered incarnate in a profane cocoon of pure resolve. Mikkhael then placed both Mech armor hands directly in front of the torso, clasping the great katana, edge pointed upwards. The maneuver made them ultra-aerodynamic, allowing them to slice cleanly through anything that crossed their path.
He soared past the stunned attackers who scrambled from his path, continuing to climb through the thin atmosphere. External camera feeds temporarily cut out. They became lost amidst the roiling black clouds, but continued climbing ever higher.
A secondary monitor began flashing, displaying a systems check conducted by the Titan’s Hammer protocol, announcing green statuses across the board. An animation of a large space freighter appeared, labeled Titan’s Hammer, beeping urgently to inform Mikkhael that it was activating. The space freighter had been in high-orbit for months now, appearing derelict and abandoned amidst the debris floating off planet, simply one of many wrecks floating above the large red marble of a planet. Now, the space freighter prepared to fulfill the solitary function that defined its reason for existence. Simulated hatches on the bottom of the freighter opened in turn, releasing eighty-two objects to the pull of gravity.
Mikkhael watched as in seemingly slow motion, all eighty-two objects began falling in a staggered line towards the Martian surface. The HUD suddenly blacked out with no external camera fees to display while they were lost in the pitch-black clouds. In the center of the HUD appeared two red dots, and below them was the thin outline of a mouth, twisted in a feral grin.
Unknown to Mikkhael, the AI’s perverse expression of supreme malice mirrored his own.
* * * * *
“What the hell is he doing?” One of the analysts standing next to General Akari asked, unaware that he had spoken aloud.
General Akari had not bothered learning the analyst’s names; they were as useless as an academic in a firefight. Instead, he turned to SGM. Anderson, the unspoken query in his eyes.
SGM. Anderson was about to reply but stopped before speaking, equally unsure.
Before they could do anything more, a station operator responsible for monitoring satellite feeds stood hurriedly, yelling at the top
of his lungs to be overhead. “General! Space Command just identified a high-priority target in the upper atmosphere! New objects appearing! 10, no 30. Strike that! Eighty two new objects have just been identified Sir!”
“Main screen now!” General Akari ordered. The cold grasp of fear settling around his heart suddenly seemed to clutch tighter, making it difficult to breathe.
Nearly all eyes glanced to the main screen occupying an outsized portion of the far wall. There was no clear satellite feed due to the smoke and airborne debris occluding all visual sensors.
“Infrared that image operator!” SGM. Anderson ordered, moving closer to the operator’s station in order to provide more immediate assistance. The operator would have been intimidated had the General chosen to hover over his shoulder. Instead, the presence of his direct aide lent a sense of reassuring credibility.
Immediately, the display changed to show fiercely glowing objects rapidly descending through the atmosphere. The top and bottom of each of the eighty-two objects were bright red. Numbers cascading down the side of the operator’s station reflected the accelerating speed of descent for each object.
“Get me a spectral analysis of those objects now!” SGM. Anderson snapped.
Dozens of the station operators bent to the task, attempting to identify what the objects were.
“Time until surface impact is less than two minutes!” One of the nameless operators called out.
“No life signs detected in objects!” Another called out. “Spectral analysis confirms metal composition of objects is ceramic, titanium, and tungsten! Each object is nearly thirty meters long by twenty meters wide!”
His tone full of dread, SGM. Anderson turned to a different set of stations responsible for controlling the satellite feeds. “Location of impacts?!”
“Our combined army converging on Mount Olympus!” Stammered a female station operator, her voice cracking with realization of what was about to happen.
“Get them out of there! Get on the net and tell them to run! NOW!!” SGM. Anderson screamed.
The ashen faced technician turned to stare at him, struggling to voice certain reality. “There’s no time. The area of impact is simply too large.”
SGM. Anderson turned to his General, a look of absolute horror on his face. General Akari did not hesitate, understanding that whatever was about to happen would dramatically reshape events on the ground. “All units are to re-direct fire on those objects now! Take them down!”
“The ceramic coatings of the objects are breaking off in the upper atmosphere! The tips of the objects are composed of pure titanium. 85% of each object is composed of tungsten! Pieces of titanium, tungsten, and ceramic are continuing to break off. They are becoming super-heated in the atmosphere but aren’t burning up,” spluttered the station operator responsible for spectral analysis as he gasped in disbelief at the readouts appearing on the station monitor.
A quickly expanding wall of bright red ominously spread across the main display. The infrared scan of the objects was reflected by the rapidly descending objects headed directly towards the Martian surface and the combined PDF armies making their last push towards Mount Olympus in a carefully calculated bid capable of overwhelming the few remaining StormCrows.
SGM. Anderson returned to his Generals side, staring at the infrared scan in disbelief. He whispered quietly so that only his General could hear, “Large tungsten rods dropped from upper orbit are theoretically the equivalent of weapons of mass destruction. Without a developed atmosphere to burn them up like on Earth, they are instead becoming nearly molten slags of superheated death that are all but unstoppable.”
“Fifty seconds until objects impact!” A technician called out.
“Calculate impact radius!” General Akari answered. Immediately, the display changed to show a simulated calculation of the eighty-two tungsten rods and their debris field landing amidst the army. The simulated damage rippled outwards, showing that the impacts were every bit as devastating as SGM. Anderson feared. On the side of the main display, a counter showed that an estimated 72% casualties would be sustained in the wake of such devastation.
“Why aren’t they firing?!” SGM. Anderson asked, in obvious reference to their army slowly crawling towards Mount Olympus.
“They are,” whispered General Akari despondently. “They are primarily equipped with energy weapons. Between the ceramic coatings on the tungsten rods and their already super-heated nature from descending through the upper atmosphere at speed, their weapons will basically have no effect.”
General Akari had finally achieved his long held goal, taking the fight to a major rebel faction. After years of effort, he had acquired all the pieces he needed, setting everything in place to win a battle considered impossible by conventional wisdom. He then played his cards carefully, one at a time, by first eliminating the new Lazarus faction outpost of Kerrak, gaining his army invaluable experience. With that one act, he had blunted rebel growth in this sector for years to come, already achieving far more than anyone believed possible. Next, he steadily eliminated one variable after another that threatened to get in his way. After all of that effort, mere moments before concluding his final battle that would have reshaped the landscape of the entire war, thereby shifting the balance of power back in favor of the PDF and cementing his reputation as one of the greatest generals to ever live, he would now suffer the ignominious disgrace of defeat moments before his greatest victory. He screamed internally at the unfairness of it all, powerless to affect a positive outcome from a threat that no one could have anticipated and that no railing against the inequity of fate could forestall.
All of the station operators watched the main display, an expression of horror etched on their faces, perfectly mirrored from one operator to the next. They were as equally powerless to stop what was seconds from happening. They were in the same situation as their General who had repeatedly outsmarted his enemies no matter what tricks they used to delay the inevitable. The only other time their capabilities had been rendered so incredibly useless was during their campaign to destroy Starkindler, a feeling of powerlessness none of them had ever expected to feel again upon its destruction. Now, the sound of their stunned silence was deafeningly loud in the C&C.
The main display changed from the infrared scan to a series of spliced video feeds from ground level now that the series of large tungsten rods had passed below the pitch-black cloud covering the whole of the plain. Seconds later, the first of the tungsten rods impacted against the plain. Sensors blared alarms, believing that an earthquake was erupting in the center of the massed army, so powerful was the force of impact from a single tungsten rod.
An enormous column of dust and debris fountained forth from the point of impact as if an enormous dirt geyser erupted. A silent, chemical-less shockwave ripped across the plain, effortlessly picking up and sending one hundred and thirty ton Mech armor and heavy Marauder flanks flying through the air with its raw power. Others were less fortunate, simply crumpling in place, destroyed outright by the force of the shockwave.
In the blink of an eye, a second rod impacted on the plain, rapidly followed by others with equally devastating effects. Whole regiments at a time of the most advanced mechanized combat forces ever fielded were eliminated in the blink of an eye. The ground underneath them heaved in violent protest at the injustices wrought upon it, flinging more of the massive units through the thin air like small toys.
Next came the debris. Bits of superheated ceramic, titanium, and tungsten flakes that had separated from the rods during their descent fell in a curtain of molten slag, incinerating any unfortunate soul that had miraculously lived through the Armageddon like destruction.
The simulations had underestimated the sheer scope of destruction the tungsten rods and molten slag caused. In mere moments, over 80% of the army ceased to exist. Every single unit and soldier was irreplaceable with rebel factions across the planet in active revolt. General Akari had committed everything he had to gather
them for this battle despite how badly they were needed elsewhere. Every death would be felt. Every loss was an innumerable nail in General Akari’s coffin. With this single act, the vast majority of the remaining personnel, and along them his hope, and that of the PDF as a whole, disappeared.
“Damn you pilot!” General Akari screamed as he stared at the monitor attempting to focus on the demonic black Mech armor. “Damn you my Nemesis!” Spittle dripped unheeded from his lips, running down his chin. His face and body were taught with unconscionable rage. The veins of his neck and forehead were distended, threatening to burst.
With one irrevocable act, General Akari’s Nemesis had caused more death and destruction than years of battle had accomplished.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – NOBLISSE OBLIGE
Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.
- Gandhi
General Akari watched the tsunami of darkness steadily sweep across the plain, inundating the area that moments before had been occupied by thousands of markers indicating his command, each denoting a Mech armor, mechanized vehicle, or combat drone headed toward Mount Olympus. As parts of a whole, those markers had represented overwhelming firepower, the best of the best of the nearly hundred thousand personnel participating in the operation to eliminate the StormCrow faction; these having been held in reserve until the last.
And then the tungsten rods had dropped from upper orbit.
Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2) Page 49