by G Aliaksei C
“Send me what you think I should get. How is our Anomaly situation?”
“Bad. We need that Aegis Generator.”
“If we upgrade the RAM-Ds, will that help with the Shield-Striders?”
David answered that. “A Class level-up for the RAM-Ds would likely be enough to break the Shield-Striders. However, as of right now, we can’t detect them until they are too close to fire on.”
“So we need a sensor grid?”
“We already have a sensor array on top of the Command Bunker, but it’s not designed to penetrate this firestorm. I propose we order a few Bomb Bunkers…”
My eyebrows came together. “I like the sound of those! Tell me more about these… bomb bunkers.”
“Uh, imagine a reusable bomb that you dig in like a pillar. If something unauthorized enters range, it releases a powerful shockwave - complete with fire and destruction. It may help us keep back the forest, too. They are very hard to damage because no part needs to be exposed - you can just cover this thing in several meters of foam-concrete.”
“What’s the radius of those blasts?”
“The model I am thinking about has a three-hundred-meter blast radius, and comes with a strong sensor package designed to combat jamming and interference. It should work in this weather too.”
I quickly did the math in my head. “We would need… thousands of these Bomb Bunkers!”
“We would buy only the key parts and the rights to manufacture them.”
David rubbed his chin. “Here’s a question for you. Higher Class zones have greater quantities of rich minerals. Does that mean that if we dig down right now, we will hit Class 8 levels of natural wealth? Or will it still be Class 3?”
We looked at each other, then at the map, then at David.
“That is a good question.” Said Inna, “We’ll need an Extractor unit to find out.”
“Or ten. Right.” I picked up a pen and began to write. “We need Extractors, Bomb Bunker parts and rights, upgrades for the RAM-Ds, a whole new Deflector Dome, Aegis Generator, more foam-concrete bots. Did I forget anything?”
“A better beacon for the airport. Delivery ships have a hard time locking onto us from space through the storm.”
“Done.”
“Can you afford all that?”
“It’s going to cost…” I scribbled, filling in values with guesstimates. “A fuckton. I can afford the initial loan deposits.”
“What are the foam-concrete bots for?”
“About that.” I flattened out Vazanklav on the table, and outlined the octagon of the outer wall. “I want to make some changes to the base. First” - I drew triangles at every edge of the octagon, turning the base into an eight-sided star - “I want to grab a bit more space, and make the walls a bit easier to defend. I also want to turn every wall nexus into a separate, smaller fortress based around the RAM-Ds. I’ll buy additional weaponry to install there as my wallet replenishes. Second” - I sketched a circle of several large buildings within, creating a smaller octagon around the Monument, with half the radius of the outer - “I want to build a second fortress within the first. Within these buildings we put the command center, sensor domes, generators, and any other valuable equipment we have.”
“A capital project,” said David. “Those buildings must be… six hundred meters long-ways!”
“Honestly, as new as I am here, I think foam-concrete is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. It’s like magic - you take dirt, and get twice the volume of light, durable building material! I made the preliminary designs, we can build all this done in ten days!”
David nodded. I looked back to Inna.
“And what about the Hacksaw? Do we have any progress figuring out how to deal with them?”
Inna flipped through her notes. “I took one apart. Unlike the machines that use biomass to repair and move faster, and unlike the swarm that use machine parts to gain range and defense capabilities, the Hacksaw are a proper, intentional hybrid. They are very well integrated, a single creature rather than a symbiosis. As expected of a Class 8, they are also very capable. Their ranged weapon is somewhat oversized for their mass, which makes the minimum deflector Class required to engage them that much higher. I have seen Fusion Lances like that on tanks. As primary guns. Everyone except me can’t take that with their deflector. Luckily, we did the right thing surrendering our armor to Drake. The Energy Durasteel should give us a solid defense against the damn things.”
“Inna,” I raised a finger. “I meant to ask, how did you like the upgrade?”
Inna phased in the arms of her suit. Previously charcoal black, the suit now shined a glorious snow-white. “Certainly not modest. Somewhat heavier, too.”
“Frankly, after looking at everyone’s armor, I realized I simply couldn’t improve yours. I don’t know how. There’s no way for me to install the system required for Flight Armor, and I just can’t replicate the electronics within your armor plates, or the Runes for that matter. I had to resort to laminating everything with several millimeters of E.D., but it won’t be as effective as a complete overhaul.”
“That’s fine. The Runes seem to work too, so I have no complaints. My armor is already quite effective, but…” She shrugged. “Even I want every advantage we can get.”
We sat in silence, thinking about the implications of having an enemy that concerned a Class 9.
“Fort, you’ve been awfully quiet. Do you have anything to add?”
“Sorry,” replied my voice from the speaker on the table. “I was a bit busy tracking this Dragon.”
Wide-eyed, I glanced at Inna, who also showed a level of shock and distress.
“Dragon?” she questioned. “That’s bad. Aircraft will have trouble getting to us.”
“There’s Dragons here? As in, flying, fire-breathing, armored things?”
“You just described a gunship, Drake. This thing also has claws, teeth, a permanent jammer field, deflectors, can teleport, and is both sentient and capable of speech. It’s a Class 9 boss. Fort, how large was it?”
“Radar and sensor ping gave a signature of one hundred meters.”
Inna wrote something down and signed. “A small one, probably a fresh hatchling here to claim the Hotzone.”
It took me a moment to process Fort’s words. “You pinged the Dragon with radar? It could have detected us!”
“Mr. Frost, the Dragon was circling the Comfort Dome at a range of three hundred meters when I pinged it. I am, almost, certain it knew we were there.”
I exhaled and tilted my head to Inna. “General, are we going to have problems with…” I shook my head and looked up, suppressing profanities, “…the Dragon?”
“So many problems. And fighting it without a siege battalion or ten is not an option.”
I looked at my list and wrote ‘Dragons?’ as something that would need dealing with.
“Moving on…”
There were swaths of issues for us to deal with. The vast loans were a constant pressure on my finances, offset only by the success of Firebolter and Black Ammo sales. I could only hope the weather would not worsen, blocking our shipments from going out. The Hotzone stopped growing, but the storms it brought with it were unpredictable, and a growing threat to the packages fired by our Mailing Driver.
This new Hotzone was, in general, not something we were prepared for. We could handle the few Hacksaw we had seen so far, I suspected the Waste Ring would not stop at through small, manageable groups of enemies at us.
With the Hotzone came Anomalies. The occasional gravity vortex was harmless compared to the madness we had to deal with now. Various phasing, shapeless creatures began appearing throughout Vazanklav. Our only defense against them was Fort, who seemed immune to their effects, warning us away from the dangers roaming within our wall. One such creature almost got me in my own bunker, taking the form of a doorway. I saw something odd in the room, stepping back to narrowly dodge the terror that erupted from within. It tried to charge me, and too
k a bolt of fire to the face, disappearing in flame.
The screaming grasshopper didn’t have a credit on this thing.
As if the locals weren’t dangerous enough, we had the Nova to worry about. I hadn’t forgotten about that nasty bunch, wondering what their next move would be. Humorously enough, the local and foreign invaders were a mutually exclusive issue - the more Hacksaw wandered the area, the harder it would be for the Nova to reach us.
And then there was the Dragon. I took the thing very seriously after Fort sent me pictures, along with a full list of known capabilities. This was an intelligent, city-killing monstrosity, and the only thing keeping its vast firepower at bay was probably its own curiosity and boredom.
Was that enough for the universe to give me a break? Of course not.
A few hours later, while I was reading the local equivalent of fiction on the couch, Fort called.
“Mr. Frost,” said my own voice. “We have incoming.”
“Is it the Dragon? Hacksaw? Nova? Or some new calamity I need to get up to deal with?”
“I am detecting a convoy of several dozen vehicles heading directly for the monument. There are numerous damaged transports in tow. They are likely blind in this storm, and are moving only by the map.”
“Damn it. Who does it look like?” Gray floated up to me and bumped into my shoulder. I patted the sphere of death on the top, making it wobble in the air.
“Unknown, but their vector suggests they originate at the nearest Gate town. They must have been traveling for at least ten days.”
“Ping them with active radar so they know we are here, and watching. I’ll be right there.”
Despite now owning billions of credits worth of equipment, the idea of getting a more comfortable means of transportation kept slipping my mind. I let my hovertank take me to the orbit-left gate where I stood atop the wall, watching the raging soup of fire and dust beyond the Comfort Dome.
Inna was already there, and we nodded at each other - she would play as the base owner from now on. To her side stood my Defender, in full gear, towering over the seemingly unarmed and unarmored woman.
The Defender, fully kitted out and armed, was the most visually outstanding individual in our group. The suit was on the fine razor edge between being a full-on combat mech, while still retaining the classification of infantry armor. The wide, armored boots looked like they were meant to support the ground Sylvester stood on, not the other way around. Every joint, angle and approach of the suit was armored no worse than the front of a tank. The resulting disproportionate width made the Defender look like a two-meter-tall dwarf. In his hands was a long baton-like staff that he patted like a baseball bat. On his right hip was a heavy projectile rifle, large in the hands of anyone but this suit.
I did not pass him over in my overhaul. When I showed him footage of my survival against the Hacksaw’s golden beam, and explained that I now had higher quality alloys available, Mr. Ember asked for his suit to be laminated as well. The towering soldier now gleamed with white reflection, standing out among the gray foam-concrete structures around him.
The convoy, guided by pings from our radar, erupted from the storm, rushing through the Comfort Dome and spreading out in its safety and comfort. Thirty armored transport vehicles, all damaged, beaten and burned braked in a fan, killing groaning engines and letting the machines fall silent in relief. Several compartments opened, fire erupting from within, and scorched Humans, Cockroaches and Slimes began to pile out.
I watched the scene from above along with batteries of point-defense weapons. Inna and Mr. Ember stood below, at the gate, watching as well.
Four very distinct individuals soon stepped forward. Unlike the rest of the convoy this lot was very well equipped.
An Inson, naturally larger than Rarus but wearing lighter armor, shifted its two massive rifles between the four gloved pincer-hands.
A Slime, see-through with a standard green tint, wearing an arbitrary Humanoid form. Throughout the green mass I could see glowing lines, Runes and implants.
A floating sphere of what seemed to be countless small armor plates, measuring a good meter and a half across. That was a Sirin - I had caught a glimpse of that species before, but it was my first time inspecting one of the creatures up close. Among the massing silver plates was a black circle, some sort of sensory organ that seemed to stare up at me.
All three shifted uncomfortably, looking at the fourth member of the group - the mech.
Jim had been humanoid in shape, designed to match the range of utility that a Human possessed, and to wield heavier Human weapons. It was a primitive approach to robot design, but thanks to the advances and quality of mechanical components on the Rings, it was quite functional.
The mech standing before us now was quite a bit more alien. At five meters in height this war machine stood out over everything else in the convoy. It was not humanoid, standing tall on four limbs and lacking any recognizable ‘hands’. The insane amount of weaponry, projectors, launchers and thrusters attached to every flat surface left little armor to be seen. What little of the armor was visible glowed with Runes. It was the only walking vehicle in the whole convoy, and was by far the least damaged one. In two strides it stepped four meters ahead of everyone and spoke.
“Hey there, fellow Human!” This was said to Inna. The voice - light, female and pleasant - felt entirely out of place coming from the towering war machine. “Is this Vazanklav? A certain Inson by the name of Rarus Merladosh sent us here.”
“Do you have your cards?” All four dug out small rectangles of blank metal, approaching and handing them over to Inna. The passes were a final touch of mine, identification cards nearly impossible to fake or cheat past. They seemed to convince Inna, who ran the metal through a machine on her belt. Freshly engraved and modified passes were returned to the recruits, along with a set of patches.
“I am General Kenet. Welcome to Vazanklav. What’s all this?” Inna waved over the ruined convoy.
“These are the survivors from the nearest Gate Town.”
Oh shit, I thought.
“What happened there?”
“Nova started a synchronous invasion of the Hades Ring. Industrial capitals, research centers and major ordinance stores were attacked. We don’t have any of that, but they attacked anyway. We helped save as many as possible and retreated here.”
I swore. A call from Inna chimed into my swirling thoughts.
“Drake, what do we do with them?”
There might be spies among the refugees, I thought. “Let none of them inside the fortress. If they want to pay for vehicle maintenance, they will have to hand them over to one of our drivers and send them in one by one. I’ll send out food and supplies, but not one of them leaves the killzone of point-defense until we are sure there are no Nova mixed in. Don’t allow anyone access to the Waypoint either. Fort, that’s on you.”
“Yes, Mr. Frost.”
“I’ll have them settle down just outside the gate.”
I observed the negotiations from above, enjoying the relief of the refugees. They began unpacking the transports, quickly setting up tents in a small sort of camp.
Choosing to retreat before any attention spilled over to me, I returned to my bunker.
2 : Cause Preparing for Effect
Day 79
Being fairly sleep deprived the next morning, the usual for my paranoid sleep habits, I didn’t immediately notice my name being called out. I stopped chewing on the sandwich and turned around to stare at the disturbance to my peace.
A young, pretty woman with short black hair and glowing blue eyes smiled at me. She was wearing the new Vazanklav patches on her shoulders, complete with the Black Needler sidearm. The patches were a recent design of mine - a golden octagram on a white circle.
As a functional Human being and man, I appreciated the attractiveness of Human females, especially in this technological utopia where no one had to suffer from natural defects and damaged or disrupted features
. The Human body had changed very little since my time, the most distinct difference being increased height and the original, often extreme coloration of skin, eyes and hair. Every other feature and proportion remained similar, if optimized. Inna, for example, was a breathtaking ten-out-of-ten on Old Earth, but stood out very little among other Humans here on the Rings.
It was also very difficult to appreciate beauty after the life I had led during The War. After years of fulfilling quota, the relief of freedom from such obligation to perform such duties often overwhelmed more simple desires.
The prime deterrent in my mind, however, was age. It was nearly impossible to tell a hundred-year-old from a thousand-year-old since both would be equally refined and handsome by any standard, age perfectly hidden under immortality. I was left wondering why the locals didn’t treat the thirty-year-old me like one would a child.
This line of thought left me staring across my shoulder with a blank face and distracted mind. Half of my consciousness was appreciating the beauty of the newcomer, while the other pessimistically presented unpleasant age estimates. The rest of my brain power was still offline, exhausted by countless sleepless nights.
“Drake Frost?” She repeated herself, making me blink and snap out of my stupor and back into tired morning boredom. I noticed her eyes were locked onto my forehead.
Yeah yeah, I’m Corporate, move on.
“Yes?” A more important thought appeared, something along the lines of who the hell is she and I hope Fort didn’t let any refugees in.
“I’m Mesharlia Varson the Seventh, sir. I’m your new Assaulter.” She raised the suitcase in her hand. “I have a package for you from Rarus Merladosh, the Inson who recruited me.”
“Sit, relax,” I turned back around, resuming breakfast. As she picked a chair across the round coffee table from me, Vili stepped out from behind the bar and set a tray of food before her. She offered me the suitcase, the sleeves of her uniform shifting to reveal robotic wrists under the gloves.