by CH Gideon
“Yes sir,” all three men replied with one voice.
“Let’s talk options.” Akinouye gestured to Li. “Colonel?”
“The Bonhoeffer’s damaged, sir,” Li replied promptly, “but Talon-class warships can’t match our firepower at close range, and their armor isn’t anything special. If we move to higher orbit and advance toward them using the planet as leverage, we can scatter the Finjou ships and resume overwatch. I’m confident they won’t open fire during our approach.”
“Because at that point we’ll be surrounded and fighting the planet’s gravity well.” Akinouye grunted. “Our flank armor isn’t worth shit right now, Colonel. If we let them surround us, it doesn’t matter how weak their pea-shooters are. They’ll stand off and snipe through the cracks in our shell until we’ve got no choice but to disengage or die. Unacceptable.”
“Which is why,” Li agreed, “my recommendation is to prep our void fighters for deployment and take a low-orbit approach rather than a high-orbit one. They’ll be expecting a high-orbit approach, and at low-orbit, we can keep them from exploiting the gaps in our defenses by presenting our underbelly to the planet.”
Colonel Moon nodded. “With the Bonhoeffer’s maneuverability compromised so close to the surface, we’ll need a full void-fighter escort to address both surface and orbital threats,” Moon agreed, easily stepping into Li’s presentation. “We have four full wings plus seven auxiliary craft in the Wild Cards, giving us fifty-five combat-ready ships and pilots, General. Recommend we deploy Diamond Wing in missile-intercept posture immediately upon reaching low-orbit, and those fighters will provide escort during approach. We reinforce the patrol as needed with the auxiliaries until we reach knife range, at which point we launch Club Wing and adopt an adaptive posture. We hold Hearts and Spades on standby until the situation clarifies.”
“During approach, we continue to hail the Finjou and negotiate for the safe withdrawal of our people. The dig team has already excavated thirty kilometers of rock and are currently eight hours from reaching the objective, sir. We don’t need to engage the Finjou, but we do have to keep the drill moving. The best way for that to happen is for the Finjou to stand down while we complete our mission.”
Akinouye’s lips twisted in a moue of disdain. “Meaning I sit here on the horn pleading with the bird-brains in the childish hope they listen to reason and don’t do the very thing that would jam me up worse than a midnight brick of cheese?” The general scowled. “I didn’t get where I am by hoping to make friends with the enemy, Colonel. And I didn’t join the Legion so I could ride a desk and play DJ to an empty room. They’re not going to respond to diplomacy until they’re in the best negotiating position they can achieve, and right now that position is one which features the ability for them to bombard our people from orbit. With so many Finjou assets already planet-side, even if we neutralize the orbital threat, Dragon Brigade is still vastly outgunned.”
“I understand the chance of success is low, General,” Li said firmly, “but diplomacy is the best option we have to keep the situation from escalating long enough to achieve our objectives. Captain Xi is due back from her negotiations within the hour, but early indications are that her efforts met with some success since several fortified bunkers were revealed in accordance with her directives should she gain control over the rebel fortresses. Diplomacy is clearly the cleanest path to victory here, General.”
Podsy decided it was time to speak his mind. “General Akinouye, sir, we can deploy the Bahamut Zero while on low-orbit and use it to flank the Finjou on the eastern front where they’re most vulnerable.” He kept his eyes locked with the general’s as he spoke, but he could almost feel the icy fury rolling off Colonel Li beside him as he continued, “You can continue your diplomatic overtures aboard the Zero via P2P linkage, using the Bonhoeffer as a comm relay, while moving to reinforce Dragon and drawing fire away from the Legion forces protecting the dig site. We’ll have to make the drop five hundred kilometers from the site to avoid enemy fire, but on the Brick’s terrain, the Zero can make at least a hundred kph and will be in position to engage the Finjou in three hours.”
Akinouye’s face was granite as Colonel Li turned to face Podsy. “Lieutenant Podsednik,” said the Bonhoeffer’s CO said with thinly-veiled irritation, “are you proposing we deploy the Terran Armed Forces’ most senior officer aboard the most valuable piece of human-built hardware ever to make planetfall to a world with dozens of as-yet-unsecured hostile fortifications, against a potential enemy that outnumbers us at least two to one and presently controls overwatch territory?”
When you say it like that… Podsy thought before pushing all doubt from his mind. “Yes, Colonel.” Podsy nodded. “That would be an accurate summation of my proposal, sir.”
Li looked ready to tear out Podsy’s throat, but General Akinouye issued a harsh, barking laugh which preempted the Bonhoeffer’s CO. “I like the way you think, Lieutenant,” the general declared, standing purposefully from his station. “Colonel Moon, the Bahamut Zero will need an escort,” he said matter-of-factly.
“The Spades are at your disposal, as always, General,” Colonel Moon said with a curt nod.
“Good.” Akinouye grunted, turning to Colonel Li. “Colonel Li, you are to maneuver the Bonhoeffer to low orbit and assume overwatch of the dig site, where you will support our ground forces. Employ your best judgment on how to achieve your objective, and I’ll stand by it at the court-martial.”
“Thank you, General,” Li said, his previous anger replaced by the same professionalism the rest of the CAC’s crew displayed. Personal differences and broken facial bones courtesy of his master-at-arms aside, Podsy respected Colonel Li more with each passing day. He was glad to have the man on his side of the ball.
General Akinouye turned to Podsy. “Lieutenant Podsednik, I doubt the Bonhoeffer will be in position to provide material support for the remainder of this op, so Ground Control on the Bonhoeffer is unlikely to be all that active. I hear the drill requires replacement parts to be delivered to the dig site, and we just happen to have a Ground Control station on the Zero.”
Podsy was unable to keep from smiling at the prospect of riding the Bahamut Zero into a combat zone. “Permission to accompany the general planet-side, sir?”
“Permission granted.” Akinouye nodded, taking a half-step before stopping and fixing Li with a bemused look. “If there are no objections?”
Li’s jaw muscles briefly bulged before he shook his head. “No objections, General.”
“Good.” Akinouye clapped the other man on the shoulder before making his way to the triple blast doors. “Give ‘em hell, Colonel.”
Podsy felt actual chills as he boarded the Bahamut Zero for the first time. The Zero was the most advanced, expensive, and potent armor platform ever developed by humanity. A prototype for a long-since-abandoned line of siege-grade, Bahamut-class vehicles, the Zero’s peculiar deployment limitations and astronomical maintenance costs had made the Terran government ultimately reject not just the Bahamut line, but the entire siege grade of mechs that had been planned to follow.
Siege-grade vehicles seemed to be an inevitable and logical extension of the smaller vehicle grade tiers of Recon (often referred to as ‘Light’ mechs by Legion personnel), Tactical (Medium), Cruiser (Heavy), and Battlewagon (Assault) mechs. But with Armor Corps’ waning support in both the Republican Parliament and within the Terran Armed Forces, the necessary deployment modifications of Armor Corps warships were deemed too expensive to be green-lit. As a result, just the Dietrich Bonhoeffer featured the ability to deploy the titanic Bahamut Zero.
Many within the Armor Corps considered the eighty-sixing of the Siege class to be the beginning of the Legion’s slow decline these past few decades. Podsy was still not up to speed in terms of in-house Legion politics and intra-branch feuds, but having seen the after-action reports from Shiva’s Wrath, it was hard to argue with the Zero’s effectiveness in combat—and harder still to convincingly a
rgue that the Siege class was unworthy of inclusion in the Terran panoply.
With an arsenal that nearly matched a mixed company’s fighting power, the Bahamut Zero was a game-changing force—not just to be reckoned with, but to be feared. A veritable titan of the battlefield, its mere presence bolstered the morale of the crews around it.
And its effect on those within seemed no less profound.
“Major Pennington,” General Akinouye greeted the Zero’s commander and Jock. A mid-statured man in his late eighties, his gray eyes flicked with the same precision and predatory intent that Podsy had come to know in his former teammate, Xi Bao.
“General,” Pennington acknowledged, pointing with his eyes at Podsy. “Is this our new GC officer?”
“Temporarily, at least,” Akinouye agreed. “He’ll be delivering our cargo to the dig site when we arrive. We’ll see how he handles the ride down.” The general smirked.
“Good to have you aboard, Lieutenant.” Pennington offered a delicate, bony hand that seemed like it might shatter if Podsy squeezed it too hard. “I trust you’ll understand that I’ve isolated your station from my main computer core.”
Podsy nodded, uncertain if the other man was taking a stab or being serious. “I promise not to mess with your systems.” Podsy laughed. “I’m just glad to be aboard, Major.”
Pennington seemed satisfied with his reply, and the trio moved to the Zero’s command deck where twenty men and women were strapped into their stations. “General.” Major Pennington gestured to the general’s chair, which was wholly unlike the bare and simple one in the CAC.
The general’s chair in the Bonhoeffer’s CAC had no character or markings of any kind and was merely a perfect replica of Colonel Li’s command throne. Podsy’s first impression of Akinouye’s CAC seat had been underwhelming. It had seemed so cold. So totally lifeless.
This chair, on the other hand, was anything but lifeless. Adorned with all manner of decals, graffiti, hashes, and other tokens earned in battle, each one was a reminder of a specific achievement in General Akinouye’s storied career. Hashes for kills, decals for engagements, and graffiti for operations successfully completed. It looked like something Podsy would have expected to see in a bad military holo-vid, or possibly even in an ill-conceived man-cave, not in the nerve center of the most powerful armored vehicle built by Terran hands.
As General Benjamin Akinouye assumed his seat, surrounded by the vivid images of flaming skulls, mushroom clouds, bloody swords, and the like, Podsy gained a newfound appreciation for the man. He was a brilliant strategist and legendary leader, but before anything else, the man was a warrior.
Akinouye swiveled his chair toward Podsy, and a smile spread across his lips. “Some things never get old, Lieutenant Podsednik. Smoking a fine cigar. Devouring the lines of a lover’s body. Closing your eyes and savoring a shredding guitar solo. But none of them,” his smile turned predatory, “compares to riding into battle.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir. I miss this part,” Podsy said as he assumed his station. The general’s enthusiasm had completely infected Podsy, and everyone else in the Zero’s command center was quite clearly under the same spell.
“Drop stations!” Akinouye’s voice cracked like a peal of thunder, causing the compartment’s lights to switch to dim blue as technicians sprang into action. “And somebody queue up the music. The Zero doesn’t drop without The Number of the Beast, followed by the Immigrant Song.” He made eye contact with Podsy and added, “Call me a poser, but I prefer the little-known Demons & Wizards cover of the latter to the original.”
“No argument there, General,” Podsy concurred, having familiarized himself with D&W’s work while aboard the Elvira. “But in my opinion, Iron Maiden needs no revision.”
“Good man.” The general grinned as the opening monologue of The Number of the Beast came over the speakers.
The Terran Armor Corps had a special affinity with all kinds of metal, and it was in no small part a gesture of defiance. During Earth’s mid-twenty-first century, after World War Three had ravaged the planet and left China and its allies as humanity’s most powerful civilization, Chinese psycho-social engineers had discovered that certain musical styles and instruments resonated differently with different socio-ethnic groups. One of their supposed findings was a connection between the instruments most commonly associated with heavy metal (electric guitar, bass guitar, and fast-paced drums) and Western individualistic behavior.
It hadn’t taken the dwindling Western nations’ military forces long to recognize a rallying cry when it presented itself. In open defiance of censors who sought to restrict access to music of that type, as well as restricting production of those specific instruments, Western servicemen of all ethnic backgrounds adopted metal as their favored form of music. As a result, somewhat unpredictably, the production of such music declined while appreciation for it skyrocketed, imprinting an indelible cultural mark on the men and women who would eventually found the Terran colonies.
The West ultimately lost the war to the East on Earth, which only served to increase the significance of heavy metal in communities of Western ethnic or ideological descent. So when a Terran officer blared heavy metal on the battlefield, he did so knowing that many of his forebears had done likewise in their last moments as they stood tall in defiance of oppression.
Many thought the ‘Metal Works’ movement, as it came to be known, was a cleverly-conceived Western propaganda maneuver, but metal’s significance had long since gone past the point of fact-checking being able to reverse impact. Like the myth that carrots improve eyesight, which was conceived by British intelligence agents to conceal their development and use of radar, Metal Works had taken deep root in Terran culture. It had become tradition, and tradition was especially sacred to Armed Forces personnel.
The fact that the Armor Corps’ nickname was “Metal Legion” only served to emphasize this particular tradition, much to its servicemen’s ongoing delight.
“Ready to deploy, General,” Major Pennington declared after connecting with the Bahamut Zero via neural linkage.
The last hiss of Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast sounded across the speakers, and in the brief silence between tracks General Akinouye boomed, “Drop the hammer, Major.”
“Dropping,” Pennington acknowledged, and the Bahamut Zero fell away from the Bonhoeffer and began its descent to the Brick’s rust-red surface.
Immigrant Song’s opening riff filled the command center at a steady gallop, followed by the signature cry of the song’s vocalist. In those first seconds, Podsy’s station began feeding him sparse information from the Legion forces assembled at the Gash. The Zero’s powerful sensor suite was able to reach a thousand kilometers from this altitude, and soon he made a positive ID on twenty-five of the Legion’s vehicles.
But those same scans returned eighty-four Finjou vehicles, which were moving to surround the Gash at a thankfully measured pace of just under sixty kilometers per hour. A race of natural flyers, the Finjou were unrivaled in aerial combat but left plenty to be desired in their ground-based platforms. And given the Brick’s incredibly thin atmosphere, the only aircraft that could operate were those capable of both aerial and void operations. The latest intel on the Finjou suggested they had a surprising blind spot in that particular facet of their arsenal, with few multi-role fighter craft.
That wasn’t to say they were without aerospace fighters, but it was probable that Terran tech was superior in that particular arena. And as the Bahamut Zero plunged toward the Brick’s surface, where it would be cut off from support and isolated from the rest of the Legion, Podsy knew the Terran Armor Corps would need every edge it could get.
“Deploying wings in ten seconds,” reported the Zero’s Wing Control officer, who looked so focused on her duties that she might have actually killed someone for interrupting her.
Everyone in the cabin took mouthguards out of their pockets and bit down on them hard. Podsy followed suit, leaning
his head back against his headrest in preparation for what was to come.
“Wings deployed,” the WC officer declared, and the Zero shuddered as the drop-wings unfurled. “Braking in three…two…one…” she called in a raised voice. “Braking!”
The platform’s braking rockets engaged, snapping everyone against their headrests. The Zero was always dropped stern-forward to help cope with the shock-forces associated with braking and landing by keeping everyone’s heads from snapping forward.
Sweat rolled down the WC officer’s temples as her fingers flew in the virtual interface before her, twisting and manipulating a dozen different systems faster than Podsy could have ever managed. He had only seen Xi’s fingers move that fast, and as he looked around the compartment, he suspected everyone present was at least as capable at their jobs, too.
The drop-wing’s braking thrusters roared, raising the vehicle’s gee forces past five as the thrusters increased their output. Everyone in the compartment wore pressure suits to counteract the tremendous forces and prevent blackouts. It was all Podsy could do to keep his teeth clamped down on the mouthguard as his vision narrowed, and a check of the altimeter and gees showed they were just two thousand meters from the surface and were decelerating at eight gees.