by G Aliaksei C
They probably were.
At the center of the Inner Fortress, in the gloom of the Monument, a crowd was taking count and arming. Two hundred refugees and twenty villagers, along with our fresh team of five professionals, was our collective might. Each one spent time painting their gear white and gold, making for an excellent uniform look. Gold octagrams were drawn on every shoulder.
The Villagers and Recruits had no need to paint their armor white. The Energy-Durasteel shined brighter than snow in the sunlight. Almost each of the twenty five elite had Flight Armor hovering around them. When two or more of them stepped together the armor reformed, forming a single united dome.
Inna stepped up to me as I approached. She and Swivel were the only ones without Flight Armor, an impossibility for Inna’s complex, phasing suit and the Sirin’s lack of grounding.
“Drake, your armor looks a lot like pictures from history books about Corporate.”
I took off my helmet, keeping distance so as not to look directly down at her from my new three-meter height. “That’s because I helped design those too. When does the party start?”
“They are making firing range in…” Inna’s eyes dashed, mentally checking her Menu. “In four minutes.”
“The Union?”
“One day behind the Nova, with no chance of catching up in time.”
I stepped closer, past the General, and looked over the assortment before me. The small army looked excited, more even than their natural, threatening aura.
The aura of people who lived where others could only die.
The largest of the lot, the Mech, stepped up to us.
“Mr. Frost? What is that?” Mesharlia Varson seemed to have no concern in her joyful voice. Inna tilted her head to search for the subject of Miss Varson’s question, her eyes catching the Flight Sword hovering high overhead near Gray. I willed the weapon lower, allowing the ominously humming thing to levitate next to me in a cloud of dust.
“Wha…” Inna stared at the contraption. “Why? You weaponized Gray, and now this?”
“Because…” I flipped another mental switch, and the upper and lower halves of the ‘blade’ section split apart, revealing a lengthy row of radiators welded onto a barrel running down the length of the weapon. The whole contraption floated out of my hand, taking position over my shoulder, rotating to follow my eyes with the end of the barrel. “…I can, and I did, and it’s not crazy if it works.”
Everyone contemplated the floating sword-rifle for a time, not daring to challenge the absurdity. Swivel raised a row of armored limbs next. I willed the flying sword higher so the thrusters wouldn’t roar in my ear.
“Yes Swivel?”
Swivel, like Inna, lacked Flight Armor. Since he floated and rarely made contact with the ground he couldn’t use it as an anchor to channel momentum into, making the flying plates useless to him.
“How is there grass growing around your home?”
I grinned at the Sirin. “Soon, there will be grass growing everywhere. And that grass is worth defending.”
In my current state of mind it was incredibly easy to snap into combat mode.
I wished then that I was a proper soldier rather than an engineer, so I could train these people up to the standards I knew were required for survival in a war of extermination.
Then again, why would I bother? It’s not like they had to fight that terrible war anymore.
I willed the thrusters on my suit awake, the AI balancing me as the matter-antimatter reactions flung me up and forwards. The leap was intended with a graceful landing, replaced instead with something short of a crash, my suit working to keep my bones from shattering.
I straightened among staring soldiers, trying hard to keep my balance, glad I didn’t miss the wall. Most annoyingly Inna was already here, having teleported across two kilometers far faster than I fell.
The armor plates around me assembled above my shoulders, stacking to form two shields.
The view beyond the Comfort Dome was, to my joy, not filled with a firestorm. A clear view of the valley and mountains presented itself, dark under the clouded skies. The valley seemed unphased by days of firestorm, the wasteland of the Waste Ring remaining just as dead and gray as I remembered, if cooler thanks to the clouds.
All around us, just beyond the Comfort Dome, were small cubes of charred-black foam-concrete. The Bomb Bunkers were spread out in a way that covered the vicinity of the fortress with their area-of-effect weapons. Several meters of foam-concrete shielded the internal mechanics of the bunkers, ensuring their security against the firestorm and Hacksaw.
The Hacksaw. I wondered if these creatures would interfere with us or the Nova.
The Dragon remained an unknown as well, circling the base several times a day, never interfering. It unnerved me, but the stability of its visits and non-interference was a pleasant break from the Hacksaw assaults.
I looked forward to finally turning these hills and mountains green, to turning Vazanklav into a truly secure home, a safe haven for myself and these people who answered to my kindness in kind.
“Here they come.”
First came the missiles. Swarms of the compact munitions ignited their final stage far overhead, boosting towards Vazanklav. Our minimalist garrison stood helpless, watching, letting Fort do his job.
Whatever information the initial Nova infiltrators provided on Vazanklav bit these attackers in the ass. We had vastly more firepower than the invaders expected, and that firepower was designed for many more, deadlier missiles than the firecrackers they fired at us. The walls sang and hummed, the low-pitched resonance of Gravity Lances reaching out to slap the bright specks out of the sky, igniting dust and dirt clouds on their way, painting the valley white.
Hovering tanks, the few survivors of the vast minefields laid by the Raiders, peeked over the ridge. Without pause the battered machines fired. Autocannons and Hacksaw-salvaged Fusion Lances ripped into the mountain, drawing runes of fire and molten rock as they danced over the enemy units. The firing line pulled back, using the hills as cover. Unwilling to let the enemy off easily Fort fired his eight artillery cannons, the streaks reaching up into the cloud cover, and falling back down seconds later just beyond the hill. Millions of credits worth of antimatter detonated with rage, lowering the hilltop by several meters.
In place of the tanks came a different type of machine. This thing walked on six massive legs, all connecting at a narrow, flat hull. Their similarity to the Shield Striders was incredible, though this particular machine had a weapon to swing around. The Nova Siege Tower planted four of its armored legs in front of itself, angling a gigantic barrel in the resulting gap between plates of thick armor.
The roar of RAM-Ds hit us as the Nova weapon fired. A singular lance of red light crossed paths with three plasma bolts. The bolts impacted the Nova shields with amazing force, spilling to cover the fresh hilltop in smoke, fire and lighting. The red beam, in turn, washed wildly across the Deflector Dome, dashing up and over the base as the RAM-Ds hit. The beam cut into the low clouds, setting them ablaze, and snapped off.
Another Siege Tower rose up, left of the first, across the smoldering crater of our initial antimatter strikes. The nearest RAM-Ds were still cycling, unable to stop the second attacker.
Before it had a chance to fire, dozens of figures flashed into existence around the newcomer. My small army found their target, using a Teleportation Catapult to land directly on the enemy. A Nova garrison team of four Gladiators leapt off in preparation for defense, only to reel back in terror as one died before hitting the ground. While two dozen militia charged at the Tower, the Gladiators were forced to engage the real danger. Inna, uncloaked, tore away at the Siege Tower garrison.
I had never seen high-Class melee happen before. The raw energy output of
the struggle was entirely unreasonable, weapons causing destruction far outside their range. Every hit sent rubble and dust flying meters out from the impact. The energy used in each attack could be used to cut small buildings in two.
Ten seconds later my militia retreated from the tilting Tower as it tumbled down, crushing the last Nova Gladiator.
I decided to contribute.
“Great void of space,” I radioed. “He had a family! What will his comrades tell his children and wife, that he got crushed by a giant crab? How cruel!” The message was sent on an open channel, independent of the Waypoint, and received an immediate answer.
“Get the fuck off the unencrypted channel! Who is that! Report!” The enraged Nova operative seemed sure it was one of his on the radio.
“A very unhappy citizen, asshat!” A defense battery on the wall changed targeting, ripping through the hill and into the transmitting tank with doubled effort, punching through the ridge, energy shield and armor of the machine before it could evade. Two more Towers were setting up on the ridge, already harassed by groups of defenders. Inna’s team, already deployed, was turning a nearby tank into swiss cheese.
“This is Nova Brigade Commander. I am willing to negotiate your surrender, Technomancer.”
“Fuck off, greedy bastard!” I leaned forward on the merlon, enjoying the view. All three attacks were succeeding splendidly, Inna’s team already killing the tank and moving onto the next Tower. Defender Ember lead our own, somewhat trained team at one of the Towers, while took fire by a swarm of less equipped and skilled refugees. The flashes and thunderous impacts of rifles and melee weapon crashing through metal legs signified the death of another Siege Tower. The third, however, activated some sort of point-defense system. Countless beams of plasma formed, reaching out at my people. One by one their Bail Grenades activated, each disappearing off the field as defenses ripped up the ground around the Tower.
In an incredibly swift move the freed machine turned, angling the huge gun on top across the hill range. Before I realized what was happening, the Nova war machine fired, a fortress-killing lance crashing into Inna’s location. Nothing survived the resulting fireball, even the second Nova tank Inna was attacking at that moment. I knew the thin layer of Energy-Durasteel covering Inna would do nothing to protect against such firepower, and felt relief as I saw the Bail Grenade activation pings appear on my helmet display.
Ember’s team was kicking ass. Swivel was performing aerospace maneuvers of incredible skill over the tower, smashing armor and hull with columns of fire and light. The Slime and Inson were holding their own against a pair of Nova Gladiators. Mr. Ember himself was bashing another Nova into a pulp with his baton, all while providing powerful deflectors for the rest of his team. Swarms of Flight Armor were dashing around the battlefield, a chaotic dogfight between shots and plates of armor.
Miss Varson, the mech, was actually wrestling her Siege Tower. Holding two of the legs in metal grips she was slowly tilting the tower like a weightlifter would a car. Her hand cannon was thumping every few seconds, blowing chunks of the tower out with antimatter slugs. With every impact the Nova resistance faltered, until the tower finally collapsed. Immediately, the whole team activated their Bail Grenades, and for a good reason - another Siege Tower fired its weapon into the wreck, blowing it apart in an attempt to catch the retreating Vazanklav team.
And that, in essence, was the end of the melee. I had no more troops on the field, and the enemy still had one… a few Towers. Five more machines leisurely climbed the ridge. The RAM-Ds thumped, knocking one back just as my SLAMs - the most underused weapon on the base - hit it from above. The tower died in the glorious barrage. The other four, however, fired.
The red beams splashed against the layered deflector fields, burned for a moment, and broke through. The weakened, partially dissipated beams drew lines of destruction across the vast base, splashing over buildings, roads and even striking the Monument. Unlike the rest of the targets my gravestone didn’t seem to care - it stood undamaged as foam-concrete disintegrated all around. Two of the beams stabbed at the RAM-Ds, but were deflected by the additional shielding around mini-castles they stood on.
Finally running out of charge the beams ceased, and the deflector began to regenerate.
Vazanklav burned.
“Are you ready to talk now, Technomancer?”
I shook myself out of my awed coma. Bracing, I willed my suit to action. The thrust of antimatter-matter reactions sent me flying off the walls, through the weakened dome, and landed me halfway to the hills. In a universal challenge I retrieved a glove, slapping it across my hand and flinging it at the ground before me. The gesture, an ancient Human signal of insult, was somehow implanted into the Ring’s society by the Corporation, honed to be taken seriously and personally. Now, the Nova had no choice but to either accept the challenge or dishonor themselves.
The following silence disconcerted me quite terribly. For several minutes I stood there, alone, waiting for a response from the frozen enemy. Both the Siege Towers and the RAM-Ds were recharged but stood silent, their exchange of fire turning into a staring contest between barrels.
My objective was simple - give enough time for our Teleportation Catapult to recharge. The process would take five minutes - I had already delayed for two.
The Siege Towers clearly had their own, smaller Teleportation Catapults. A Humanoid in Nova-blue armor appeared before me, landing lightly on the ground. I guessed he was an Infiltrator or light Gladiator, his armor rather minimalistic and smooth. I reformed the Flight Armor around me, and the Nova in turn allowed his powerful deflectors to shimmer with power, lighting up the valley around him.
“I take your challenge, Technomancer.” The man squatted, picking up the glove and flinging it back. “We fight with what we have on us at this moment, here and now. Are you ready?”
“Always ready to kick some thieving ass.” Ripping the revolver off my hip I aimed the long barrel at my target.
The Nova already had his pistol up as well, and I saw him squeeze the trigger.
There was but a single advantage to using a revolver over a more standard pistol - caliber. My redesigned weapon fired twenty-millimeter slugs packed with electronics and explosives. Powered armor strained to compensate for the recoil of the shot as several million credits blasted out of the barrel.
A miniature package of antimatter ignited, mixed with normal gas to create a massive thrust, boosting the warhead to its target. That slug had its own low-level AI, which adjusted the parameters of the munition, allowing it to do what no bullet should have - the shot passed through the several deflector fields surrounding the armored being. The event was too fast to allow for a change of expression, but the success of my attack would have surely registered on the enemy’s face if the Nova was given the time to react. He didn’t even bother to move, too concentrated on firing his gun, clearly expecting the kinetic slug to bounce off his numerous layers of defense without effect.
The antimatter bomb inside, a significant overkill for the job, nearly threw me off balance as it pulverized my opponent. Flight armor hastily shifted to block falling chunks of flesh, armor and rock.
I was awed at my victory, lowering the gun several seconds after the dust and fine green mist began to settle. I glanced at the readouts of my faceless helmet - my deflector was down, the Nova beam burning through it without effort, only to harmlessly warm up the Energy-Durasteel of my armor. The area in front of me glowed red with dissipated energy, and a smoking streak across my armor caused the fog around to boil.
Blinking away the success - I had truly expected a more challenging fight - I threw the glove out again, reloading and setting the revolver back into my thigh clamp.
In my mind I praised the testing of the last ten days and the incredibly effective result of that effort.
Element of surprise for the win!
My assumption that I would not get blasted by a Siege Tower while issuing a challenge held, and three
more Nova teleported in at a respectable distance. The central figure had no helmet, revealing it as a Slime. His escorts looked identical to my first challenger, but the supposed leader was larger and far more heavily armored. Lacking any sort of visible ranged weapon, he marched at me with a large spear.
“We could negotiate a good business deal, Technomancer.” The power of his voice and smoothness of his motion resonated in my mind with a sense of great age.
“Do you know why I hate you, Nova?” I didn’t let him answer. “It’s not because you are attacking my home. Nor is it because you are trying to steal my wealth. No, Nova, it’s because I’m someone who was never supposed to fight. I was supposed to sit back and produce all this” - I waved at the Flight Armor - “so that others could fight better. But you, you marauding thieves are forcing me to do both. Pick up the damn glove, invader.”
Nothing like a monologue to bait out time. Every second I delayed was a second closer to recharging the catapult.
Closer to decisive victory.
I took off my helmet and threw it aside, matching his own exposure, and let my Fall Coefficient burn. I saw the gold glow reflecting off my snow-white shoulders and chestplate.
The second fight did not go as smoothly as the first. Not because he dodged - this idiot stood as still as the first, taking the slug head on. This time the explosion struck a solid wall, forcing me to stagger at the blast. Under a glowing dome, the Slime leaned on his spear, bracing but unhurt.
“This is an Absolute Shield. No ranged weapon penetrates it. You will have to fight me properly!”
You’re actually going to tell me about your gear? I almost laughed at the Nova’s idiotic theatrics.
From somewhere far, far above, my Flight Sword crashed down, landing softly in my raised hand. Leveling it at the Nova I tilted forward, leaping and firing all thrusters. At the same time the chaingun leaned over my shoulder and opened fire. Flight Armor began collecting before me.