Previously on The Robot Mercenary wrote:
"You didn't see anything", one of them said. The man nodded weakly.
"Liar", the other added, "Of course you did. What, you think I'm stupid?"
"No!", the man gasped, still staring in horror at the drone's array of teeth, "I mean, I didn't..."
"Amusing...", the robots snort in unison, their heads incapable of displaying any emotion, but their voice dripping with contempt. Without a further word, they turn around and leave, a flurry of smaller drones following them into the darkness.
Eighty stories below, a limousine carrying Edward Limpkin, SinTek's Director Of Colonial Development, was slowly burning, belching clouds of toxic smoke, its interior contaminated by nerve gas and radioactive polonium delivered inside the slugs.
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"Transmit the release code for the Escrow account."
"Ah...but you see, I will not be doing that"
There was a brief pause. The unflinching robot headpiece didn't move an inch, but the previously emotionless voice changed, introducing a threatening undertone, "State your reason for this decision."
Another cloud of smoke sailed towards the ceiling, "We can't be associated with Limpkin's...temporary leave of absence in any way. Even a remote chance of the transfer being discovered and investigated is too much a risk for us...and, frankly, it's not like you can get legal recourse, can you? Besides, you're damn expensive for a hitman."
"Director, I am warning you.", the robot's voice became even lower, and his head moved closer to the camera, "You will regret this decision."
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In the confusion, as the crew and shipboard CI attempted to regain control and ascertain the damage, von Krotschschniffern cried out, looking at the still-operating holotank: "Kapitan! The swarm! Eet iz collapsing!"
And he was right. As if it received one of the coded emergency shutdown signals, the entire Von Neumann swarm of Indigo-VBT543 turned upon itself, individual machines frying their control circuits. The larger ships began assemling the dead husks and burning at full thrust into the system's sun.
In the wake of the incident SchromKorp stock plummeted no less than .15th of a percentage point on the SolDex, a magnitude of loss the corporation hadn't suffered since the end of the Bragulan Wars, and enough to throw the long-term predictions of several of its own CIs out of whack. This forced no less than three Computational Intelligences to devote processor speed to recalibration of these analyses, wasting time that would otherwise have been spent on market manipulation and the trade of financial products so arcane only trained CompInts fully understood their implications.
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"I have nothing to say to you", Edgar replied. Somehow, he could feel his assistant CI struggling against Legion's hijacking of the link, Can't you get help? Notify security!
I'm sorry, sir. You are under an extremely sophisticated IW attack. All outside connections have been severed. I am attempting to circumvent the lockouts and call for help.
"I figured you'd say that. Very well, here's the gist of it:", the machine leaned forward, "I WANT MY FUCKING MONEY!", it suddendly screamed, got up and shoved Edgar's avatar, flipping him over along with the chair. Despite the situation being a purely virtual construct, the CEO felt a sudden onrush of panic.
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He watched concrete walls crumble and blow outward as the ceiling collapse into the room; now horizontal in mid-air he kicked off one piece of flying concrete and used it to correct his angle. Debris and deadly shrapnel sparked off the edges of the field-shield as August’s feet touched the wall of a corridor just outside the blast radius, kicking off lightly and somersaulting to land on the floor. He executed a perfect landing on both feet even as the titanic explosion began to mushroom away through the now-destroyed roof.
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Amazingly, it missed. One of the bigger drones angrily buzzed right next to the gunship’s hull, cutting off one of the grav-modules with a scythe of invisible force. The gunship spiralled to the ground and crashed between abandoned ground vehicles littering the street.
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Then the entire square exploded.
Flashes of white-hot energy erupted from deceptively small packages, instantly converting the air around them into plasma and creating an overpressure wave. Plasma explosives were not a particularly good choice for antipersonnel work, but they made impressive blasts, terrifying and powerful, setting people on fire, scorching lungs and burning out eyes. Mushroom clouds rose, the temperature difference sucking in debris and body parts and then scattering them like a cyclone.
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Their government won’t like it, Friday, on the other hand, obviously didn’t give a damn. She just wanted it on record.
We should be able to handle it. Apprehend the target.
Fine. We’re moving to breach the perimeter.
The Collector killbot growled with poorly hidden satisfaction.
...and now, the conclusion!
THE ROBOT MERCENARY
Zubrich, Chimera Sector
Baerne, Government Plaza
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”, lieutenant Leonard Koch, Zubrich Planetary Police, yelled into his radio. He’s been doing it for the last ten minutes or so, and his men were acknowledging the order, did not carry it out. The police and military forces arrayed in and around Government Plaza were now engaged in a massive shootout with each other. Koch’s command post, located in one of the stylish (and expensive!) homes surrounding the open square, was being pounded with massive amounts of ordnance.
It all started mere minutes ago, after explosions shook the square and some idiot soldier-boy began firing wildly. Police forces responded in kind, thinking the shots to be coming from some unknown terrorist force or another. It was exasperated by confused and random radio calls and sudden bout of jamming that separated police and military networks from each other.
...did it really happen that way? No, wait...
Lieutenant Koch had trouble concentrating. His head felt light, and forming coherent thoughts came hard. Suddenly, he realized the truth of what was happening - briefly, but long enough to grab a small hologrammatic locket from his pocket.
He opened it, and complicated shapes of red, white, blue and yellow sprung into the air. As he was taught during training, Koch cleared his mind and closed his eyes. The locket’s memetic component worked, essentially “resetting” his consciousness. Hopefully, he managed to apply the countermeasure before it was too late.
With a shudder, he came to. He suddenly understood the actual messages he was receiving on his radio.
“Left, left! Targets moving across the square!”
“Command, confirm, we’re supposed to engage all military targets? Please repeat!”
“Relay from command: suspects wearing military uniforms. Repeat, suspects are wearing military uniforms - all military units not cleared are to be engaged on sight!”
With horror, Koch immediately began to transmit the order to cease fire. This time it was understood properly, and the firefight began to die down. He turned to his subordinates, all huddling behind various cover. It was good the houses around Government Square were built solid: none of the men under his command had been hit. He went to each one of them and flashed their own lockets in front of their faces. With moans and confused expressions, the affected men slowly came to.
“Wake up. We’ve been hit with a memetic attack. Heinz, get me a report from units securing the bank building. Leon, we’ll need paramedics here as soon as possible...make sure to use your countermeasures if things get confusing, we still don’t know the source of the attack...”
“Lieutenant!”, one of the revived officers called out, “What’s that bot doing?”
“Bot? What bot?”, Koch didn’t remember the planetary police bringing any heavy units. Lots of small drones, yes...he glanced out the window, seeing a gigantic monstrosity or a robot standing right in the middle of the square, surrounded by dead bodies of civilians who were killed in the crossfire.
“Uhh...I have no idea where it came from, we better...”
Lieutenant Koch didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence: the bot suddenly twisted its upper body towards him, and the entire building exploded.
Government square, seconds later
Without warning, the innumerable drones buzzing around the plaza came under attack from an unknown enemy. Thousands of tiny needlelike missile perforated their hulls and exploded inside. The sky was instantly covered by detonations and trails of smoke, and in a split-second, major parts of Zubrichian military and police networks went down.
But that was not the end. Evil Fucking Killbot turned slightly and blew apart a seemingly random building with a concentrated blast of sickly green energy: signal intercepts delivered by the Eye indicated a police command post was located there. A missile streaked out from Army positions across the square, but its guidance systems were spoofed and it veered off into a random building.
The Killbot did not waste time countering the threat with overwhelming firepower, though. It fired a swarm of slightly larger missiles, that covered the Army positions with a torrent of explosions. While that was happening, its gauss flayers annihilated the fence around the First Security Bank HQ.
More heavy ordnance was directed at the massive beast, but it outright ignored it. Occasionally, a missile was defeated remotely and flew off or detonated mid-air, but the Killbot’s shield easily took the brunt of Zubrichian attacks.
Friday forced herself to turn away from the spectacle. The battlespace feeds indicated EFK wasn’t even in any particular danger. Sidebands emitted a steady, satisfied growl as soldiers and policemen alike screamed in pain upon being struck by gauss flayers and torn apart, or blasted with missiles and concentrated energy. A tank rolled into the square, and was cut in half before its ammunition exploded and ripped it apart. A LARC gunship attempted to perform a strafing run, only for its pilot and controlling CI to be gutted with two precisely fired knife missiles and the vehicle to crash into yet another building.
Fires were now raging across the square. Friday moved out of cover, swiftly crossing the open space, into the bank’s perimeter. A cop, scared out of his mind, took a potshot at her and Vilena. Friday psychokinetically swatted the bullet out of mid-air, then glared at him for a split-second. The cop curled up into a fetal position, whimpering to himself. A moment later the squad guarding the entrance collapsed before even having a chance to yell or shoot.
Friday calmly leaned over to extract an access key from one of the comatose cops. Vilena ignored them entirely, ripped off a panel and stuck her hand into the exposed circuitry. The door slid open.
“Well, well”, Friday quipped, unholstering her handy scattergun, “I am almost impressed”.
“How about you save it for yourself?”
“A little defensive, are we?” The CEID agent grinned and switched nets. “Freki, August, we’re going in. Take up overwatch positions.”
“I think the killbot has that covered,” August’s voice was full of disapproval. The augment was a bred-and-built killer too, but he always preferred the scalpel to the broadsword. The way the Collector agent wreaked indiscriminate havoc offended his sense of artistry. From what her psionically enhanced senses were telling her it was effective though. There was no point denying that.
“I’m not relying on that thing to get me out of here. Stop moaning and take up overwatch.”
There had been no reply from the other agent. Friday noticed that Vilena was looking at her. “Where’s Freki? Is he gone?”
From somewhere far away, August snorted. “We’re not that lucky. Down back in Lugano, status unconfirmed, which probably means the bastard will just pop back as soon has his cores have reassembled. We’re ten minutes away.”
“We?”
“I am bringing reinforcements. Our Collector buddies have stolen a military LARC, we’re inbound at full speed.”
“I confirm this, Agent Friday.”, Dollmaster butted in, “Proceed with the mission. I will direct Agent August and his...support to proper positions.”
Friday shrugged and looked back at Vilena, “You ready? Want a weapon?”
The crazy girl shook her head. She had no gun, no body armor, nothing - but Friday has long since learned not to let such trivialities as looks deceive her. They went in together, moving tactically, careful to anticipate threat angles.
The short security corridor right behind the main door soon expanded into an impressive lobby. It used to be a spacious, well-lit place showing the full extent of power and wealth of the First Security Bank of Zubrich - but right now, it had been turned into a charnel house.
Ruined tapestry and potted plants littered the floor, covering bodies and discarded weapons. Lights were flickering and erratic: causing problems with enhanced ocular optics that had to keep switching between normal and low-light vision. Agent Friday decided to forget about optics altogether. She closed her eyes. Her psionic senses blossomed through the ruined atrium. Gone was the dimly lit grime and gore of the desecrated lobby, the dreary bleakness of everyday life. She saw...
everything. The fading telepathic echo of a guards’ agonized last moments; the interplay between electrons and proteins in Vilena’s augmetics as the girl moved purposefully through the atrium; fleeting thoughts, photons brushing off a lock of brown hair; fields of gravity and electromagnetism blooming like rainbows through the hazy nonspace of her mind. And just beyond the veil of reality, the throbbing of hyperspace, somehow maddeningly close...
Friday let out a hissing breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She blinked and willed the welter of impressions to narrow. Mindsight was a powerful but dangerous thing, the Directorate taught. It was easy to sink into the impressions, to lose one’s sense of purpose.
Concentrate. The mindscape tightened somehow, snapped spotlight-like into focus. The atrium resolved in vivid clarity. Friday realized she didn’t know how much of her impressions had translated through the link.
The two women moved in silence, linked together by an unseen wireless connection, scrambled signals pulsing only tiny packets between them, crossing the atrium with a natural sense of direction that was usually present only in people who lived and worked in a building such as that. Parts of their consciousness were fed a steady steam of data by their controlling intelligences, making them instantly aware not just of the immediate situation, but any tactical problems that could arise.
The duo stepped over a dead body laying inside one of the passageways. From the labirynth of corridors and rooms they chose the shortest possible path leading to one of the main evacuation stairwells, ignoring the elevators for now. Electromagnetic radiation from the building’s vast number of electronic surveillance devices bathed over them, visible thanks to psionics and augments. Friday noticed there was a war going on, evident from the dance of emissions - a war for control of internal security systems.
“It looks like the first security ring has been subverted.”, Vilena observed through the link as they passed through an office floor. The girl was obviously better equipped to diagnose the problem, “There no active defences here, just surveillance...but it means he knows we’re inside.”
“Well, that’s comforting...”, Friday twitched and raised her weapon at something skittering in the dark, the shape barely perceptible even to her heightened senses, “Movement!”
None of the operatives uttered a single word, the exchange as fast as light itself. One moment they were moving cautiously, the next they split and take cover, each woman instantly aware of what the other was seeing. The link was amazingly fluent, with no glitches that were usual for vastly different systems interfacing together.
The shape skittered again, moving from desk to desk. It made noise. A lot of noise. Both Friday and Vilena instantly came to the same conclusion and changed positions.
Just in time, too, as the desk Friday was taking cover behind was shredded by a hail of hypervelocity rounds. Friday returned fire immediately. Her psioninc senses let her see the bullets trace their way across the room. They were being fired downwards, at an odd angle.
Friday’s shots shredded the masking ceiling panels, but the shooter had already shifted positions. She concentrated briefly, and heard the incredibly silent steps. Tracing them, she fired again, and with just a bit of willpower, ripped off the entire ceiling.
The panels fell to the floor and on the office equipment with a horrible crash. Glass flied everywhere, and from between the various equipment lining the actual ceiling, the shooter leapt down, landing heavily but surely on a large cyberdeck rack.
LEGION stared at Friday for a split-second. Then its singular eye flashed brightly.
Complex hologrammatic shapes materialized, filling the room and assailing the agent’s psionic sense. The memetic attack was one of incredible sophistication and complexity, and Friday’s implants had to shut down the entire visual cortex of her brain to prevent irreversible damage. Lesser equipment would have almost certainly failed, but the CEID had literally two centuries of experience with memetics, and thus the best possible defences. They still reeled under that strike, leaving Friday blind and disoriented.
The shooter raised his rifle, ignoring the other, unarmed girl standing in the room, sure that his target was at his mercy.
Two things surprised him, though. First, Friday leapt back, throwing aside desks and other office equipment with a telekinetic push. She was never
truly blind, even when parts of her brain were shut down completely. She could still sense, translating mindsight’s input into other senses, like touch, smell and hearing with the aid of her implants.
LEGION’s burst went wide, blowing a nasty, ragged hole in the permacrete wall behind Friday, and before he could take aim again the second surprise came. Vilena, the little unarmed girl, attacked.
The attack was invisible and unknowable. Hjacking common equipment: wireless transmitters in the workstations, the cyberdeck’s antennae and a local phone signal repeater, Vilena assailed LEGION’S formidable electronic defences. They were top-notch, the best money could buy, modified extensively with Collector programming and impregnable to almost everything.
Almost.
The second burst struck the ceiling, as the assault frame’s hands suddenly shot up. It twitched, as the onboard firewalls and combat programs fought the assault on its motor functions. It regained control of one hand, then lost it. Its sensors became scrambled, just momentarily, but when they came back, both targets were suddenly gone.
Diagnostic. Cut wireless channels., the internal, barely sentient control mechanism commanded, and cut hardware power to all wireless access units within. The assault frame began to withdraw, moving from cover to cover, anticipating possible movements of the enemy.
It couldn’t see. It was certain its targets were still in the room, just obscured by the blasted electronic attack. A blast from Friday’s scattergun suddenly caught the frame squarely in the chest, and to its surprise, it found the kinetic barriers were down as well. The small hypervelocity shards penetrated the outer armor, and first damage indicators began flashing red.
Initiate software scramble. Load from backup.
LEGION leapt behind a second set of cyberdecks, just in time to avoid another shot. It rolled, instinctively and with inhuman precision - fortunately, its motor functions were back to normal.
The sensor software was purged just then. LEGION continued to move evasively, following a map and his last remembered location - unlike organics, it had the blessing of perfect recall and precise measurements of distance.
Friday was growing annoyed. She practically had the bastard! When her sight returned, he was standing, right there, incapacitated by what had to be an EW attack. But all her shots but one went wide.
Vilena was attempting to flank the mercenary bastard, and Friday could sense the intense electronic warfare still going on, but that whole thing had lasted too long.
She concentrated, lowering the gun briefly. A massive rack of professional cyberdecks began to shake, and suddenly rose from the floor. A few discharges of psionic energy arced from it towards the walls, which were slowly covering with frost. Without warning, thrown by an unseen force, the rack surged across the room with tremendous speed, crushing everything on its way - desks, computers, file cabinets and data storage points. And the target.
LEGION was caught squarely in the chest, hurtled towards the wall along with the cyberdeck rack and smashed into it.
Suddenly, there was nothing but silence. Friday cleared her throat and grabbed something for balance. She didn’t usually employ her powers in such a...crude way, and it was rather taxing.
Still, it seemed effective. LEGION’s body was now nothing but a pile of twisted metal.
Airspace over Baerne, moments later
Target terminated
August smiled under his nose. Friday’s clipped and stern report signified a moment where the entire operation came together. The machine bastard eluded them forever, but when he faced the CEID’s best in open combat, he didn’t stand a chance.
Dollmaster didn’t let himself begin any ceremonies just yet, though
All units prepare for extraction. Agent Friday and Vilena Soruga are proceeding towards the bank’s mainframe. Secure Government plaza for extraction by Collector assets.
What?! Dollmaster, I am not getting on a Collector ship!, Friday’s angry note burst amongst the calm and collected minds populating the CEID battlespace.
You are in hostile territorry. Zubrich’s air defences have become active. Collector ships are the only assets capable of penetrating the perimeter at this point., it was The Eye this time.
Then we’ll lay low and exfiltrate later, goddammit!
August sighed,
Calm down, Friday. If they wanted to do horrible things to us they’d have done that way back when their cruiser was sitting point blank from the Blackjack., it’s not that he liked the idea, either, but he’d take a ride on a Collector ship over staying on Zubrich any day.
The LARC he and his two...friends were riding shook violently. August moved to the cockpit and sat down in the copilot’s chair. The pilot had been replaced by a slithering, snakelike machine affectionately called ‘Albert’ by the other Collectors. It was coiled on the seat, and had one of its razor sharp claws stuck inside the control panels.
“What’s going on?”
Albert said nothing. It glanced at August’s armored form and pointed at a city that was quickly growing in front of them.
It was on fire. August could clearly see aircraft circling overhead, doing attack runs on a certain spot. Occasionally, one or several were hit and crashed between the tightly packed buildings, throwing up huge plumes of smoke and debris. It was a terrifying spectacle. While it offended August on a personal level, he could not pry his eyes from it.
His other senses told a clearer picture of what was happening, too. The machine, the one nicknaming itself so cutely, was singlehandedly holding off half a regiment of the Zubrich Army, along with a squadron or so of attack aircraft.
“It doesn’t look like it needs much help.”, August observed, watching the carnage, “Let’s take up overwatch and cover his flanks until extraction, and...”
The battlespace transformed suddenly, when The Eye’s drones detected a new threat. The Army has apparently given up on subtlety and began setting up heavy artillery outside the city. ‘Albert’ glared at August, in a surprisingly human gesture.
“Spoke too soon?”
The creature nodded slowly.
“Well, let’s go and take care of it.”
First Security Bank of Zubrich, basement sublevel 4C
They were in a hurry. Taking down LEGION - or, more precisely, one of his bodies - seemed like a victory, but unless the team managed to extract the information they came here for, the mission could still become a dismal failure.
They descended down a stairwell, leaping half a floor at a time. It seemed like they intercepted LEGION before he could access the mainframe and set up demolition charges, but they could never be sure.
Descending four levels down took both women merely seconds. A security door guarding the exit was defeated with ease by Vilena: Friday was quickly reconsidering the girl’s usefulness, as prying to large door open psionically would have taken effort she’d rather not undertake. She was a grand master, but even she had her limits, and the constant strain of the exertion was taking a toll.
This deep underground, their connection to the battlespace was beginning to weaken, despite The Eye sending down a couple drones to act as signal repeaters. It was still good enough to report on their progress, and monitor the situation outside, which seemed to be deteriorating.
“Tell me”, Friday asked, dismayed at the latest development topside, “Just how much longer can that thing keep it up?”, she said, obviously meaning the killbot.
“That information is classified”, Vilena replied tersely. Both women were walking briskly along the barren permacrete corridor deep below the building. They could both feel the throbbing hum of gigantic computer systems housed here, which supported the bank’s many, many legal and illegal activities throughout Wild Space. It seemed everything was online here, despite the general loss of power on the upper levels. It seemed...strange. Out of place. The corridors were clean. There were no bodies, no bot wrecks, the walls were not peppered with bullet holes. Security systems were idle, as if never threatened. The doors were unlocked. Vilena ignored several, before entering an unassuming server room.
“Cover me ; I’ll try to access the mainframe from here”, she pulsed silently to Friday and rolled up her sleeve, pulling out a set of microscopic cables from under her skin. She jabbed a nasty needle into the nearest server and froze.
Not that far away, LEGION used the security monitors to observe them. The loss of one of his primaries was troubling, especially after reviewing the fight upstairs, but the fact CEID was apparently able to briefly subvert his second frame’s motor and sensor functions was beyond troubling. It could mean this entire mission could still turn out to be useless.
Organics weren’t supposed to have EW sets capable of defeating his protection suite. That was
his trademark. He had the unique, mostly unknown and exotic set of tools that allowed him to torment Edgar Von Schrom and destroy entire Von Neumann swarms.
It wouldn’t have mattered if LEGION was done setting the charges - but the bank’s mainframe was a sprawling thing, taking up several hardened rooms, and it had to be thoroughly destroyed to ensure no information could ever be recovered. The central submesonic core itself was the size of a building and its very mass meant thorough destruction of its innards could only be accomplished by careful placement of several dozen demolition charges. For all his mechanical efficiency, LEGION could only work so fast, and these two interlopers were already getting awfully close. He had to delay them, and attempt to neutralize the enemy’s EW capabilities.
Well, there was a time-honored tradition in organic notions of warfare which was a surprisingly cynical notion for such creatures - the use of cannon fodder. LEGION brought with him a swarm of small attack and transportation drones. And of course the bank had a security system worth of a military building, which was now firmly under LEGION’s control.
The CEID could have some new tricks, but brute force remained brute force. LEGION activated a tiny little program and went back to work from this momentary, split-second distraction.
Back in the corridor, all the lights went out all of a sudden, and magnetic locks on every door in the complicated labirynth of server rooms - including the one occupied by Vilena and Friday - switched to the ‘locked’ position. A series of shimmers indicated activation of local force screens, too. Friday whirled towards the Collector agent.
“What the hell did you do?!”
Vilena extracted the needle and replied calmly, “He’s still in the system, and with senior access.”
“Wha...oh, damn. We’ve been had!”, Friday realized they fell prey to the assumption LEGION didn’t penetrate into the basement before he was intercepted - when it being an AI meant it could’ve done that and still sent a body to guard underground access.
“If he transferred into the main submeson core, then we’ve walked straight into a trap, yes.”, Vilena was holding the conversation and walking about the server room at the same time, occasionally pressing her hand to one rack or another, “The walls and exits are all shielded...I’ll have to try and open them otherwise. Unless you can punch through those shields, too?”
Friday shook her head, “How long do you need?”
Vilena ripped a server rack’s casing open before answering, “Not sure. A few minutes.”
“Well, hurry up.”, Friday said, having just received a feed from one of The Eye’s drones that floated in a nearby corridor, “We have security bots incoming.”
Vilena didn’t answer or ask how many. She was getting the feed, too.
And it looked like it was pretty much all of them.
“Goddamn paranoid bankers”, Friday muttered to herself, reloading the scattergun.
Outside Baerne, positions of Bataillon de grenadiers 18
The massive artillery pieces stuck out from their armored mounts, freshly set up by the soldiers of the 18th Grenadier Battalion outside Zubrich’s capital city. For many of the soldiers serving in the battalion, it was their very first combat action: they trained to repel an invasion, of course, but none of them expected to be called in in order to shell their own capital within hours of hostilities commencing. They didn’t even know who or what invaded them, but the fact a single enemy war machine prompted evacuation of the capital was enough to give most of the soldiers pause.
Communications were still spotty, of course, and so the 18th battalion had no idea what was happening beyond their immediate area of operations. Fortunately, as they haven’t been blasted from orbit yet, it would appear that whoever the enemy was, they did not manage to gain space superiority.
But that was a consideration for another time ; Right now, the battalion had its mission - it would use its siege artillery to bring down the hammer of the Man Jesus himself on the monstrosity laying waste to Baerne.
The shield generators went online, covering the pieces in nigh-impenetrable force screens. The battalion's fire-control radar began emitting and interfaced with the guns, taking over their automted systems. The entire fire mission could be controlled by two operators safely tucked away in a heavily armored command vehicle. The rest of the battalion was used for direct defence and technical support, taking positions around the entrenched battery with its myriad combat drones and heavy armor.
August could survey the entire setup from the convenient vantage point of his fast-cruising LARC transport. Links to
Dollmaster and The Eye have already provided him with all the information about the battery’s layout and composition that he’d ever need. He had a plan of attack. Taking out a heavy artillery battery was not what he usually did, but then again his entire job was one unusual assignment after another, and August had his fair share already.
There was no point in waiting. The guns were already powering up.
“I hope the Killbot can survive the first salvo.”, he quipped to Albert. The machine, as usual, remained silent. August, to his own surprise, began to miss Friday...and even Freki. At least you could banter with those two.
One walked into the cockpit. He glanced out the windshield and pulsed a simple command.
“Begin operation”
August stood up. Albert stared at One for a while, and both machines disappeared into thin air.
Yeah,, August thought privately, watching the rapidly approaching battery,
It’s a pretty good plan.
Even then, he’d still rather not be the one left aboard a crashing LARC.
On the ground, air-defence vehicles surrounding the guns began to query the transport. Seeing no response, their fire control CIs made a decision, and tagged the contact as hostile. Two missiles raised into the air and connected with trivial ease, ripping the vehicle apart in a brilliant fireball.
The thunderous explosion was completely washed out by a triple deafening roar of the battery’s guns firing their first salvo. The sonic booms of their exotic plasma siege rounds created further noise, nicely masking August’s landing right between the easternmost group of air-defence vehicles. Before close-in defence sensors detected him and slaved autonomous weapons to engage, the agent was already on top of one APC. With a blast of energy from his suit, he disabled the vehicle’s sensors and set off its smoke grenades, obscuring the entire area.
Jamming from The Eye further confused perimeter defenders ; When autonomous close-in defenced began firing at the intruder, it was interpreted by the rest of the battalion as a hostile attack, and actual IFVs stationed a bit further away started to pump plasma into their own AA position. Within seconds, one of the three anti-air groupings was on fire and out of the fight, without August having to fire a single shot. Before the battalion's commander realized what happened, the agent was already next to a generator powering one of the guns.
It was about time, too. The battery’s first salvo had already slammed into the Killbot. The enormous shells, optimized for breaching theatre shields and resisting point-defences shook the entire city square and levelled any of the surrounding buildings that were still standing. A gigantic plume of smoke and permacrete dust shot up into the air, clearly visible over the horizon, even from August’s position twenty kilometres away.
The Killbot dropped briefly from the battlespace feeds due to the massive EMP blast, but came back online almost immediately. It growled, letting everyone know how annoyed it was at having to hold a single position under such bombardment. Its status indicators showed that the hit did more than just annoy it, though.
There was no time. Alarms were now blaring across the battery’s perimeter, and hunter/killer drones began their sweep. August quickly emplaced the first directed shield-breaching charge next to the first generator and proceeded towards the second one. He could hear the huge structures whine as they charged massive capacitors inside the guns for their next shot. He managed to emplace a second charge before the first drones finally engaged him - in an uncoordinated, messy fashion thanks to electronic warfare efforts of the Collector agents, but with the sheer number of them, it was small comfort.
“I’ve got two out of three mined!”, he pulsed across the battlespace, “I don’t know if I can reach the third in time. I’m detonating!”
It only took a microsecond or less to relay that message. It was a risk, as the shields surrounding the command vehicle might hold with just one generator operational, but at least taking out two would lessen the battery’s firepower by two thirds.
The charges detonated with only a single thought, while August dove for cover. Their concentrated blasts disturbed the very molecular structure of the power generator, destabilizing the exotic reactions within.
The first reactor began to wobble and tore itself apart, immolating the very air outside its shell, along with any combat drones that found themselves nearby. The highly volatile super-exotic particles released in the process caused strange disturbances in the very fabric of space-time before flashing out of existence, bending and twisting metal and disturbing the working mechanisms of the nearest gun. A spontaneous discharge of energy from somewhere within the first piece’s armored shell rivalled Zubrich’s sun, and the gun began to slowly sag towards the ground, belching smoke.
August also found himself within the area of effect, and part of his suit’s electronics spontaneously combusted. Cursing, the agent rolled into a barely adequate ditch, trying to avoid autolaser blasts of the hunter-killed drones and restore at least some functionality of his internal systems. He noted with dismay that his second charge either failed to go off, or did not penetrate the generator’s shield, as both the remaining guns fired simultaneously, the immense blast wave causing a miniature earthquake in the nearest area.
He blew apart a drone that got too close, but already damage to his force-screen control systems was evident. The same exotic particles which destroyed one of the guns took their toll on delicate electronics necessary to run personal force-screens effectively. An autolaser blast from another drone caught him square in the chest, blowing apart the reinforced protective layer of his physical armor.
The three people in charge of the effort were watching the entire scene from their secure command track, safely protected by powerful shields. One was aiming and firing the guns, another was coordinating defence of the perimeter, and the third person was the battalion's commander. Right now, all three were most interested in the mysterious intruder that invaded the battalion's position, and was currently in the process of being chased down by perimeter defence drones.
“I’ve never seen anyone like that, sir. We better show this to intelligence later, they might....”
One of the three huge power generators suddenly exploded, and power flickered ever so briefly.
“What was that?”, the commander asked.
“Uh, we’ve lost a generator, sir...Gun no. 3 is out of the fight...power is...”, the man consulted a readout. He’d much rather have a full fledged CI here rather than just an expert system, “...stable. We’ve had momentary shield loss but it’s all...it’s all...”
The soldier rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t find the right words, and suddenly had a terrible headache.
“...under...I suggest...uuuuh...”
He felt a presence behind him...something terrible and powerful at the same time. Just as he realized that he noticed sickly green light being cast inside the dark interior of the command vehicle, but couldn’t muster enough strength to look behind him and find the source.
Computer screens went blank without warning. Their readouts and displays were replaced by lines of green letters in an unknown language, flying across the monitors at an impossible speed.
The soldier felt scared. Terrified out of his mind. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even
thik clearly anymore. Something heavy and cold landed on his shoulder without warning. With tremendous effort of will, the man managed to turn his head ever so slightly and glance down.
It was a hand. A metallic hand covered in strange symbols.
Stand down, soldier, a thought materialized in his head. He couldn’t help but obey.
August stood up, seeing the hunter-killer drones break their attack and return to running pre-programmed routes around the perimeter. The destroyed gun was still suffering from secondary explosions, and the remaining two generators were charging up as normal, but everything else seemed...quiet. Eerie, even.
August attempted to set off his suit’s auto-repair systems, but gave up in disgust after several tries. He decided against removing the suit, now mostly inert, despite its bulk slowing him down when unpowered.
The CEID replicant walked slowly across the perimeter. He noticed Zubrich Army soldiers standing around next to their vehicles, staring into the distance. The plume of smoke and dust that was the result of the two salvos was still rising high into the atmosphere, adding to the scene’s distinctly creepy feel. If August wasn’t a purpose bred and made killer, he would be really, really weirded out.
But being who he was, the agent walked up to the command vehicle. One was standing outside it, coldly observing the CEID operative.
“Do we have total control?”, he asked, and immediately realized he did it vocally, and more importantly, that he didn’t know immediately thanks to the battlespace.
Damn, he thought,
The damage is way more extensive than I realized.
The Collector noticed that as well, and troubled itself to reply vocally, “We do. However, a situation has arisen in the city. Two situations.”
August was only listening with one ear, tinkering with an auxilliary comms system in his suit. With a satisfied smirk, he managed to reroute his implants through an external antenna and regain access to the battlespace. The situational updates flooded his mind before he regulated their fidelity manually. When he focused, he immediately saw the problem areas.
Oh for the love of..., his thought leaked out into the general channels, but he couldn’t help it. There was a column of vehicles rolling into Baerne, vehicles with the unmistakable shape of Dredka Overtanks.
“August, good to have you back! You got a nice tan from your vacation?”, Friday came on the link, “Are you finished with the artillery? We could use some help!”
“Friday, are you getting the feed? What happened, are the Brags here, too?”
“No, Dollmaster just checked. It’s the fucking locals, they have...”, the thought was cut off, and Friday’s signal was lost briefly, “...from the goddamn bears. But we have another situation in the basement, we’re cut off...the target, he’s not...”
Friday dropped altogether before she was able to transmit the full extent of her problem. August banged on his jury-rigged comms system in frustration.
“Agent August”, Dollmaster, ever present, manifested itself again, “Proceed with Albert at best possible speed to reinforce Agent Friday and Vilena Soruga in the bank’s basement, sublevel 4C, server rooms.”
“What about the killbot and those Dredkas?”, August asked, noticing the damage signals from the Collector murder machine that were now flowing across the battlespace.
“One will deal with that situation.”
“How...”, August looked around the captured battery, “Oh. I see.”
Albert slithered out of the command vehicle, its expression and pose almost curious - though it was obviously hard to tell with its...unorthodox body shape.
“I am ready, Agent”, it hissed. August sighed and nodded. Albert stared at him briefly and August felt a sudden onrush of nausea, just like back at the airbase near Lugano.
He’d never get used to that.
"
- PeZook
