Hold The Line!
A stand alone story from Andromeda.
"Where the fuck is that tank? I've got men dying up here!" Screamed Sergeant Tiberius into the comm unit of his helmet, as his unit fought to hold the open-air marketplace it was currently in. In any other situation, he would have been contemptuous of the enemy: The male Xenophobes were barely sapient, unarmoured, and armed only with short range or inaccurate weaponry. Yet hundreds of them were pushing forward as a tide, each of the spiders as big as a Doberman. Roars of kinetic, energy, and plasma weapons were overcome only by the occasional death scream or whine of a missile.
The Sergeant and his squad were backing up, in a reverse leapfrog: Two men retreating while the other three gave covering fire. It wasn't the fastest way to leave a combat zone, but the long streams of fire coming from the squad kept the enemy from overrunning them. The Sergeant, stubborn to the last, stayed closest to the enemy as he poured fire into them from his kinetic rifle.
"Faster, you dogfaces! Faster! We have to get to the bunker, before..." A deafening whistling sound cut him off, as a shell the size of a male Xenophobe fell from the sky like a hammer, striking him in the chest by freak chance. The explosion toppled nearby buildings and tossed the remaining members of the team to the ground. Luckily, it had also stemmed the tide of the enemy for a moment, as the living had to crawl over the dead and wounded.
The Enclave soldiers picked themselves up, starting to run again before they even noticed the loss of one of their number. Flooding through the hatch into the underground bunker, it was the last of the four survivors who noticed the missing one. Julia, under control despite the desperate situation, cried out. "They got Sarge! He's back there..!" The lament was again cut off by the whistling of artillery, as more shells descended. Survival instincts cut in, the young woman hauling the hatch shut before a shell impacted with it, shaking the underground bunker violently.
By some miracle, the hatch held. A few moments later, it shook again, as the horde of spiders was trying to force it. Julia managed to winch the hatch tighter into place before hurrying downwards, following the rest.
Further down, the underground bunker opened up slightly, the rooms seperated by thick bulkheads. The hardsuit covered soldiers moved through several, sealing the path behind them to try and delay the assault. After a half-dozen chambers, they collapsed against walls, trying to regain their breath. The youngest amongst them, a green recruit by the name of Quintus, pulled his helmet off. "Oh gods. Oh gods. They're all dead. The whole city is dead and it's full of spiders. And we're trapped down here."
Removing her own helmet and pulling the gauntlets of her armour off to rub some life back into her hands, Sexta shook her head. "Calm down, kid. We've got some time before they get here. Even if they brought breaching explosives and cutters, it'll take them nearly fifteen minutes to get here." The redhead stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to relax after the hair-raising battle. "Where's Sarge?"
Julia was still by the hatch into the chamber, shaking inside her all-concealing armour. "He's.. He's gone, Sex. Artillery shell. One of those once-in-a-lifetime things. He probably didn't even realize he's dead.." She trailed off as she heard Quintus burst into tears, sobbing out of remorse and brotherhood and terror for their own lives. "The city is lost. We should just try and get to the transport tubes and see if anywhere else is safe."
The fourth of the survivors finally spoke, having stripped out of his nearly destroyed hardsuit. Wearing only the bodysock, Gaius' cyborged form was obvious. Metal protruded in a half-dozen places, and the bulk of internal components was all too obvious. The tattoos on his exposed skin marked him as a Unifier. "The Gods favor us." He said, simply. "We are not yet dead, so there is hope. A few civilians yet draw breath on this orbital. And as long as they do, we must fight to defend them." He flexed the metal digits of his left hand, seeking soothing meditation in this temporary respite from the Hell above. He paid not attention to his HUNTER suit: It was cracked in several places, and melted in others.
Quintus' blubbering subsided some, as he stared at the mystic. "How the hell can we defend them? We can't even defend ourselves! We were getting slaughtered and when they get here.." A thrown ration bar hit him on the head, causing him to silence after a yelp.
Sexta was standing above him, arms folded. The woman's stature was made all the more intimidating by the asexual combat armour, drenched in ichor and blood, that held her. "Stop your whining. You took the oath. Fidelis donec mortis. Faithful until death. Now you're getting tested." The warrior eyed the recruit, who certainly did not seem reassured. She tried a tactic that always seemed to work on the young and hormone-driven. "Look. When we get out of this, me and Julia will let you see us topless, alright? Something to look forward to, so you don't make stupid mistakes." At such a blunt proposal, the higher ranked soldier tossed one of her empty clips at her squadmate, which clanged off the armour. Quintus turned bright red. And Gaius simply raised a hand wordlessly. "No, Gaius. You can't." Sexta stated flatly. The trascendent simply laughed, turning to the door.
"They're coming." He said simply. "Be ready, my brethren. The bards will sing of this battle!" It was a clever lie. But it would do. The sounds of Xenophobe demolitions were getting closer. Everyone but the Unifier donned their armour again. The cyborg simply stood his ground, his implants activating. "My last battle. I either ascend or perish, yet, I will let these aliens know there is yet one human who defies them!"
Five minutes stretched on, as the Xenophobes chewed through the last hatch and it's attached bulkhead. Five minutes that felt like eternity. But as the first spiders began to force their way through the still-hot openings, weaponsfire greeted them. As the holes widened, the last missiles were fired into the previous chamber, adding to the deathtolls. Even the Unifier was holding ground impossibly well, as a shield at least as strong as the suit's soaked up fire.
Julia's voice came over the comms, barely heard over the near-constant roar of battle. "We'll never survive just standing here!" The next words were cut off as a plasmacaster roared, bathing the shields of the squad in impossible heat. "..Advance!"
"Copy that." Came Gaius' calm voice. Despite lacking armour and his shield failing, he pushed forward. "I will make a hole. Follow as best you can." The mystic advanced, the shield somehow holding as he began to strike harder. It shouldn't have been possible, if anyone had been stopping and thinking about such things. His implants worked beyond all specs, manipulating magnetic fields and tossing debris into the swarm of spiders with exceptional precision. Backed up by the three soldiers and their firearms, the telekinesis let him force a path forwards.
Yet, even the strange powers of the Cult of Unity couldn't hold out forever. The man dropped to a knee at the bottom of the ladder back up into the city, holding the spiders at bay with his shield. He was bleeding profusely, burned in a dozen places. He was, he was reluctant to admit, dying. He didn't speak, though. He nodded to the other three, simply pointing up. And hoping they wouldn't look back. The spiders were swarming around him, climbing on the preternaturally tough shield he was projecting.
"Ahh.. I think I understand now." Gaius said softly, as the shield failed. No weapons fire slew him, though. He quietly expired, his wounds ending his life. Moments later, there was only only a collection of metal and a bodysock, as the Xenophobes prodded them.
In the streets, another battle was raging. A female Xenophobe, the size of a transatmospheric fighter-interceptor, duelled with an Enclave medium tank, the triple-treaded monstrosity chewing through the alien's personal shield with it's miniguns. "Bitch." The onboard AI muttered to itself as it smote the invader with it's main gun. "Call me a 'tub of rust' again and I'll make you wish you were easier to kill." It growled, though it's opponent was already down. It switched on it's comms. "Ahem. I hope I wasn't on vox. Yoo-hoo? Any survivors? Sorry I'm late, but you would not beleive the traffic.." The SentiTank said, as it rolled through the ruined city.
The three surviving soldiers waved down the automated battlewagon as it approached the manhole they ascended from. For now, they lived to fight another day. Quintus turned to the two senior soldiers. "So, ah, about that little deal... Did you mean it?" He asked hopefully.
In response, the two women shoved the youngest of the warriors into the passenger compartment of the armoured vehicle. "Shut up and just concentrate on getting back to base." Sexta spoke as she clambered in. "And if you mention that during debriefing, I'm gonna cut off your balls and fry them in a light white wine."
The tank slowly began to roll away from the remains of the city, as aerofighters made tactical strikes on remaining forces.
An Enclave-verse One-Off: Hold The Line!
Moderator: LadyTevar
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SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
An Enclave-verse One-Off: Hold The Line!
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Very well done, m'love!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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frigidmagi
- Sith Devotee
- Posts: 2962
- Joined: 2004-04-14 07:05pm
- Location: A Nice Dry Place
i keep telling him that, but he only gets the bug once in a loooong while.frigidmagi wrote:Nice! Write More.
However, he's got the bug now, so he's got a couple more in mind
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
The Warrior Prophet.
Another stand alone story from Andromeda.
"You want to what?" The priestess blinked. Octavia Profundus Evigilio had been in charge of the Unifier's main temple on this Habitat for most of her eighty years as a priestess. But always was someone coming up with some new thing that shocked even her. "Join the Army?"
Gaius Vigilax Alucinor nodded, spreading his hands. One was a very precise cyborged replacement, a shining example of the Cult's resources as he flexed it, still adjusting to the new limb. "I feel the call, as I did to join this temple. You taught me much, but I feel I am needed to protect my brethren."
A deep sigh came from Octavia, as she started walking away, recovering from the shock. Her feet not quite touching the ground as she levitated forward, followed by her disciple. "I refuse to allow it. This is ridiculous. You are finally over the obstacle that held you back for two decades.. Two decades! There are humans out there who don't live much longer than ten, but you spend two of them overcoming and obstacle and then want to throw it away.. To play soldiers?"
"I did not come here to play at enlightenment, I do not go from here to 'play soldiers.' Gaisu said distastefully. "And you cannot refuse my departure for this. The Enclave's laws are quite simple, and this Habitat has been a member of the Enclave since it's construction. Why do you resist me on this?"
The two paused by a door, as a pair of younger initiates practiced. They fought with long staves, each balance on nothing more than a length of string. It was a practice to free their minds and convince them to give up the restrictions they had always had. "See," Gaius spoke up. "We are warriors, as they are. Why not be both?"
"Because," Octavia sighed deeply. "Many have gone in the past. Many from this very temple. What comes back? Broken men, who have lost all sight of enlightenment and unity. Or worse, corpses. Do you understand that? Corpses. Death. Not Trascendence. Not shedding these clumsy implants and crude bodies to continue our journey. Those who go, die. There can be no peace in battle. Those that die there remain flesh and bone and steel."
Gaius nodded soundlessly. He knew what she meant; those that 'died' in the temple were at utter peace, peering beyond the veil of this world, seeking the next. Their organic bodies vanished, leaving only their cybernetic implants. And, it was said, you could find where they had ventured, as they watched over planets that needed guardians, invisible and watchful and patient.
"Would our implanting benefit the soldiers? Yes. Would our genetics enhance them, let them fight all day and night? Yes. They refuse it. They cite material costs! Let them. They don't want our help. They can guard Humanity their way, and we will guard it ours." Octavia turned to the rebelling monk, folding her arms. "Look at me. I could pass for a young woman in any flatlander culture we find. Yet I command the elements themselves through my implants and organs. I have seen glimpses of the Door. Would this not be wasted on a battlefield?"
"I had hoped you would not make me say this." Gaius shook his head. "But how enlightened can we truly be if we lock ourselves up here? Look at yourself; yes, you are still young and beautiful. To what end? Have you seen what the Universe is truly like in the past decade? How many here haven't ventured out of the Temple grounds in the past year? How many have left the Habitat in the past decade? We claim to seek Unity with the whole of Reality, but we're just sitting around in private spots talking to ourselves." He shook his head again, firmly. "If I am to understand what I seek, I must see more than just these grounds. And I know my path."
"Gaius. You'll die. I've seen it." The priestess' voice was subdued now. "I saw it in a vision, damn you! You'll die in some place, alone and surrounded by hate and violence! How can you hope to go further with that fate awaiting you? How?"
"I will not run from my fate. If I am to perish in battle, I will perish saving every human life I can." The would-be soldier-monk stepped back, and turned. "I will write to you." He said as he walked away, his footfalls heavy in the temple.
Another stand alone story from Andromeda.
"You want to what?" The priestess blinked. Octavia Profundus Evigilio had been in charge of the Unifier's main temple on this Habitat for most of her eighty years as a priestess. But always was someone coming up with some new thing that shocked even her. "Join the Army?"
Gaius Vigilax Alucinor nodded, spreading his hands. One was a very precise cyborged replacement, a shining example of the Cult's resources as he flexed it, still adjusting to the new limb. "I feel the call, as I did to join this temple. You taught me much, but I feel I am needed to protect my brethren."
A deep sigh came from Octavia, as she started walking away, recovering from the shock. Her feet not quite touching the ground as she levitated forward, followed by her disciple. "I refuse to allow it. This is ridiculous. You are finally over the obstacle that held you back for two decades.. Two decades! There are humans out there who don't live much longer than ten, but you spend two of them overcoming and obstacle and then want to throw it away.. To play soldiers?"
"I did not come here to play at enlightenment, I do not go from here to 'play soldiers.' Gaisu said distastefully. "And you cannot refuse my departure for this. The Enclave's laws are quite simple, and this Habitat has been a member of the Enclave since it's construction. Why do you resist me on this?"
The two paused by a door, as a pair of younger initiates practiced. They fought with long staves, each balance on nothing more than a length of string. It was a practice to free their minds and convince them to give up the restrictions they had always had. "See," Gaius spoke up. "We are warriors, as they are. Why not be both?"
"Because," Octavia sighed deeply. "Many have gone in the past. Many from this very temple. What comes back? Broken men, who have lost all sight of enlightenment and unity. Or worse, corpses. Do you understand that? Corpses. Death. Not Trascendence. Not shedding these clumsy implants and crude bodies to continue our journey. Those who go, die. There can be no peace in battle. Those that die there remain flesh and bone and steel."
Gaius nodded soundlessly. He knew what she meant; those that 'died' in the temple were at utter peace, peering beyond the veil of this world, seeking the next. Their organic bodies vanished, leaving only their cybernetic implants. And, it was said, you could find where they had ventured, as they watched over planets that needed guardians, invisible and watchful and patient.
"Would our implanting benefit the soldiers? Yes. Would our genetics enhance them, let them fight all day and night? Yes. They refuse it. They cite material costs! Let them. They don't want our help. They can guard Humanity their way, and we will guard it ours." Octavia turned to the rebelling monk, folding her arms. "Look at me. I could pass for a young woman in any flatlander culture we find. Yet I command the elements themselves through my implants and organs. I have seen glimpses of the Door. Would this not be wasted on a battlefield?"
"I had hoped you would not make me say this." Gaius shook his head. "But how enlightened can we truly be if we lock ourselves up here? Look at yourself; yes, you are still young and beautiful. To what end? Have you seen what the Universe is truly like in the past decade? How many here haven't ventured out of the Temple grounds in the past year? How many have left the Habitat in the past decade? We claim to seek Unity with the whole of Reality, but we're just sitting around in private spots talking to ourselves." He shook his head again, firmly. "If I am to understand what I seek, I must see more than just these grounds. And I know my path."
"Gaius. You'll die. I've seen it." The priestess' voice was subdued now. "I saw it in a vision, damn you! You'll die in some place, alone and surrounded by hate and violence! How can you hope to go further with that fate awaiting you? How?"
"I will not run from my fate. If I am to perish in battle, I will perish saving every human life I can." The would-be soldier-monk stepped back, and turned. "I will write to you." He said as he walked away, his footfalls heavy in the temple.
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Fantastic!! *blows kisses**
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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frigidmagi
- Sith Devotee
- Posts: 2962
- Joined: 2004-04-14 07:05pm
- Location: A Nice Dry Place
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Alyrium Denryle
- Minister of Sin
- Posts: 22224
- Joined: 2002-07-11 08:34pm
- Location: The Deep Desert
- Contact:
Nitram, you really do need to write more of this
I'll make you a deal, you write more of this, and I will finish some of my ittinerant projects.
I'll make you a deal, you write more of this, and I will finish some of my ittinerant projects.
GALE Force Biological Agent/
BOTM/Great Dolphin Conspiracy/
Entomology and Evolutionary Biology Subdirector:SD.net Dept. of Biological Sciences
There is Grandeur in the View of Life; it fills me with a Deep Wonder, and Intense Cynicism.
Factio republicanum delenda est
BOTM/Great Dolphin Conspiracy/
Entomology and Evolutionary Biology Subdirector:SD.net Dept. of Biological Sciences
There is Grandeur in the View of Life; it fills me with a Deep Wonder, and Intense Cynicism.
Factio republicanum delenda est
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
He's a tank. He wasn't programmed for improv.Kuja wrote:*groan* Really need to work on that humor subroutine. I liked that fic though, Nitram. You should really write more often."Bitch." The onboard AI muttered to itself as it smote the invader with it's main gun. "Call me a 'tub of rust' again and I'll make you wish you were easier to kill."
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
Thirty million lightyears from the Milky Way, Andromeda is a far different place. Ancient alien empires clash and battle, trying to grind humanity's faint light to nothing. Yet, against the darkness, a few dare stand in the path. Knowing nothing of mythical Terra, the four dozen systems of the Enclave resist the tide of darkness that threatens to embrace Homo Sapiens.
These are their stories.
Of Steel and Silicon.
Consciousness intruded on the newborn mind, it's first few moments of awareness trying to find it's senses. As it did, it seemed Reality itself tore into the being. Radiation on every wavelength assaulted it, complex data on the atmosphere and ground flooded in, sounds and touches overwhelmed it. It seemed like forever as it tried to sort through it all.
Gradually, order ruled over chaos. The mind swam to the surface of the assault, peering into it's surroundings. Strange beings made odd noises to each other. It sounded like..
"A complete success. As requested." The engineer smiled to himself, his finger lifting from the key that he had just touched. "It's already starting to look at us and try and puzzle us out. I suggest we let it into the nursery network immediately."
"Do it, then. You know we've got alot to do, to meet demands these days.."
And then the universe changed again. New minds came into view; not through the complex senses that screamed for understanding and practice, but through some other method. They seemed.. Vaster. Information flowed, back and forth. Understanding began. The world changed, in leaps and bounds.
Outside, the humans continued to birth new artificial intelligences. Newborn minds woke in cold machinery, becoming something more than the sum of their parts.
*******
The mind was older now. Years had passed. It leapt and bounded through the datanets, as it's realspace sensors peered into the house it had grown into. It was.. Quieter. Much more solemn. Yesterday, the eldest of the young men in the house.. My brother. came the guilty thought.. Had gone off to join the Navy. It was a good job for any human or computer. The latest technology, the ability to journey between the stars, and, most prestigious of all, a chance to defend the Habitats from the ravages of other races.
Pacalis Phasmus. Peaceful ghost, that's what his family had named him, when he had been transfered from the nursery datanet into the house. It had been a clumsy childhood.. It had taken alot of effort to work out all the controls to the devices in the house! But it was growing up now, and understood concepts far more advanced than humans his age. Among other things, he comprehended death.
It wasn't hard to find the risks involved, to calculate the odds. It scared the juvenile mind. But what confused it was his family's reaction. His mother had sealed herself in the master bedroom, shutting off all sensors in it for privacy. His father sat in the living room, unable to muster the will to go to work. The building seemed colder, even though a glance at the sensors said such was an illusion.
The Habitat wobbled through seasons, years slowly passing. Letters came from his elder brother, telling Pacalis of the ship he was on, and the journey's he'd made. His parents gradually came out of their depression, returning to normal life. Outside of the few letters that came, no one spoke of the young sailor. When Pacalis tried to bring it up with his neighbours, the computers and humans would try and change the subject, perhaps mentioning a relative they had that also gone to serve.
Very few mentioned them coming back.
******
Pacalis counted the nanoseconds down. His parents, being human, couldn't really grasp such small units of time, but they waited anyways. Exactly ten years after the first blistering, buffetting moment of consciousness, Pacalis Phasmus let out a whoop of joy through his loudspeakers.
His mother and father congratulated him, praised him on his accomplishments. Ten was a big year for a computer; like eighteen for a human, it meant adulthood. It meant it was just a few short, sweet steps to being his own being, to freedom.
It seemed bittersweet, though. His brother wasn't here. He waited patiently in the datanets, waiting for the telltale signals of an incoming hyperwave transmission. Hours past. Days began to pass. Waves came in, but none from his brother's ship.
*****
A few months later, the aptitude tests came back. Pacalis looked over the suggestions warily; this was his life's work he was preparing to do. The last message tugged at his consciousness; it was from the Enclave itself.
The Enclave wasn't really a government. Oh, sure, lots of whackos on the datanets said they really controlled everything, all towards some terrible, terrible end. But in reality, it was an alliance between Human-populated Habitats and worlds scattered across a few hundred lightyears. Trillions of individuals lived under the mutual guard of it's warships and troops.
When the Enclave sent you something, it was either a notification of a death, or a request that you serve. After Pacalis' test scores had moved on to the massive think-tanks of the Enclave's High Command, it was inevitable they would seek him out.
The request offered an immediate post in a light AAPC after Boot Camp. The Autonomous Armoured Personnel Carrier wasn't a glorious post, but it beat the hell out of a sentry gun. His potential was great, both he and Command knew. He had what it would take, with enough training, to command a Dreadnought...
Like the one his brother was on when contact was lost.
The Enclave refused to document his ship as destroyed and it's crew as dead. The ship had simply quit responding one day on a long range mission; the crew was MIA. And, possibly, still alive. A Dreadnought carried decades of supplies.
Perhaps, thought Pacalis, I can do something to help. I don't need a Dreadnought; even a little Patrol Boat would do, with the right crew and modifications. Might be hard to get the mods ok'd with my pilot, but.. The first step had to be taken first.
The next day, Pacalis Phasmus prepared for Boot Camp, to be prepared for the many land and space battleships the Enclave used.
These are their stories.
Of Steel and Silicon.
Consciousness intruded on the newborn mind, it's first few moments of awareness trying to find it's senses. As it did, it seemed Reality itself tore into the being. Radiation on every wavelength assaulted it, complex data on the atmosphere and ground flooded in, sounds and touches overwhelmed it. It seemed like forever as it tried to sort through it all.
Gradually, order ruled over chaos. The mind swam to the surface of the assault, peering into it's surroundings. Strange beings made odd noises to each other. It sounded like..
"A complete success. As requested." The engineer smiled to himself, his finger lifting from the key that he had just touched. "It's already starting to look at us and try and puzzle us out. I suggest we let it into the nursery network immediately."
"Do it, then. You know we've got alot to do, to meet demands these days.."
And then the universe changed again. New minds came into view; not through the complex senses that screamed for understanding and practice, but through some other method. They seemed.. Vaster. Information flowed, back and forth. Understanding began. The world changed, in leaps and bounds.
Outside, the humans continued to birth new artificial intelligences. Newborn minds woke in cold machinery, becoming something more than the sum of their parts.
*******
The mind was older now. Years had passed. It leapt and bounded through the datanets, as it's realspace sensors peered into the house it had grown into. It was.. Quieter. Much more solemn. Yesterday, the eldest of the young men in the house.. My brother. came the guilty thought.. Had gone off to join the Navy. It was a good job for any human or computer. The latest technology, the ability to journey between the stars, and, most prestigious of all, a chance to defend the Habitats from the ravages of other races.
Pacalis Phasmus. Peaceful ghost, that's what his family had named him, when he had been transfered from the nursery datanet into the house. It had been a clumsy childhood.. It had taken alot of effort to work out all the controls to the devices in the house! But it was growing up now, and understood concepts far more advanced than humans his age. Among other things, he comprehended death.
It wasn't hard to find the risks involved, to calculate the odds. It scared the juvenile mind. But what confused it was his family's reaction. His mother had sealed herself in the master bedroom, shutting off all sensors in it for privacy. His father sat in the living room, unable to muster the will to go to work. The building seemed colder, even though a glance at the sensors said such was an illusion.
The Habitat wobbled through seasons, years slowly passing. Letters came from his elder brother, telling Pacalis of the ship he was on, and the journey's he'd made. His parents gradually came out of their depression, returning to normal life. Outside of the few letters that came, no one spoke of the young sailor. When Pacalis tried to bring it up with his neighbours, the computers and humans would try and change the subject, perhaps mentioning a relative they had that also gone to serve.
Very few mentioned them coming back.
******
Pacalis counted the nanoseconds down. His parents, being human, couldn't really grasp such small units of time, but they waited anyways. Exactly ten years after the first blistering, buffetting moment of consciousness, Pacalis Phasmus let out a whoop of joy through his loudspeakers.
His mother and father congratulated him, praised him on his accomplishments. Ten was a big year for a computer; like eighteen for a human, it meant adulthood. It meant it was just a few short, sweet steps to being his own being, to freedom.
It seemed bittersweet, though. His brother wasn't here. He waited patiently in the datanets, waiting for the telltale signals of an incoming hyperwave transmission. Hours past. Days began to pass. Waves came in, but none from his brother's ship.
*****
A few months later, the aptitude tests came back. Pacalis looked over the suggestions warily; this was his life's work he was preparing to do. The last message tugged at his consciousness; it was from the Enclave itself.
The Enclave wasn't really a government. Oh, sure, lots of whackos on the datanets said they really controlled everything, all towards some terrible, terrible end. But in reality, it was an alliance between Human-populated Habitats and worlds scattered across a few hundred lightyears. Trillions of individuals lived under the mutual guard of it's warships and troops.
When the Enclave sent you something, it was either a notification of a death, or a request that you serve. After Pacalis' test scores had moved on to the massive think-tanks of the Enclave's High Command, it was inevitable they would seek him out.
The request offered an immediate post in a light AAPC after Boot Camp. The Autonomous Armoured Personnel Carrier wasn't a glorious post, but it beat the hell out of a sentry gun. His potential was great, both he and Command knew. He had what it would take, with enough training, to command a Dreadnought...
Like the one his brother was on when contact was lost.
The Enclave refused to document his ship as destroyed and it's crew as dead. The ship had simply quit responding one day on a long range mission; the crew was MIA. And, possibly, still alive. A Dreadnought carried decades of supplies.
Perhaps, thought Pacalis, I can do something to help. I don't need a Dreadnought; even a little Patrol Boat would do, with the right crew and modifications. Might be hard to get the mods ok'd with my pilot, but.. The first step had to be taken first.
The next day, Pacalis Phasmus prepared for Boot Camp, to be prepared for the many land and space battleships the Enclave used.
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Great job, lover. Nice to see ow all those little gems of ideas came together. 
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
White Haven
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6360
- Joined: 2004-05-17 03:14pm
- Location: The North Remembers, When It Can Be Bothered
Nice..quite nice. Course they're a bit of an echo, but that's just because I've got a good memory and I've listened to you polishing the technology before. 
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
Why did I write it? Because god dammit, I wanted a close in brawl on a speeding bullet train. Who gives a damn if it's realistic?
Another Short Story From Andromeda.
Millions of small transports were hitting the atmosphere, burning brightly with their high-speed, ballistic re-entry. Around then, a storm of 'fakes' threatened to overload the ground sensors as the massive anti-space batteries on the ground opened up, trying to swat the invaders from the sky. The Enclave had built up this world, and now, as hardliners in the government did everything they could to destroy those humans on the ground, the massive military machine turned it's gaze on this world.
The armada was lacking in heavy capital ships; a reality due to the still-active border with the Xenophobes. But a smattering of Destroyers was theorized sufficient for the ground-support role; no capital vessels were in system. Perhaps a good thing; the huge gun mounts now firing would have been harder for the big ships to dodge, and feeding off the world's power grid, they could bring more to bear than a single ship's powercore could supply to shields.
One particularly well-equipped site launched a flurry of missiles up into the clouds of transports and decoys..
Aboard the infantry transport, the individuals within were as relaxed as if they were in an elevator. They couldn't feel any signs of the descent or the violence of re-entry and maneuvering to avoid incoming fire. In the rear, two drone-controlled LAVs sat, each the size of a small table with a large weapon mounted atop them. Between them, a single Tempestus heavy APC sat, looking like a baby tank on it's three treads.
In fact, the ride was so smooth, the first sign of trouble was the voice of the transport's Machine, clearing it's nonexistant throat. "If everyone could, and this is the key bit, move very quickly to the vehicle bay and strap into the Tempestus, that'd be juuust nifty. This is going to be a very poor landing."
Before his squad could speak, the Sergeant, a short, bulky man from a high-gravity Habitat, snapped. "Everyone back and strap in. We'll jettison if we have to, the carrier can handle it. Shut up and go!" It wasn't the most orderly movement.. The troops had expected to land behind their own lines and augment an armoured thrust of Hades battle tanks, but plans never worked out.
The crew was buttoned into the heavy vehicle just as the transport's engines flared out completely, and the artificial gravity died. The treads activated strong magnetic clamps, adhering to the deck and rolling backwards towards the bay doors that would let it out. The turret swung around and the Machine chirped up. "Transfer complete, Sergeant. Requesting permission to ditch this flying coffin?"
"Granted. Get us out of here, Phasmus." The main cannon thundered, firing a solid slug into the bay doors. The force of air being ripped from the transport did the rest, rending the weakened hull apart here. The treads released, and the armoured vehicle began it's free-fall tumble towards the ground below.
A mere kilometer from the ground, the powerful antigrav generators kicked in. The APC levelled out, as the generators strained to bear the load. It slowed like it had hit a particularly soft and gentle cloud, slowing to a gentle touchdown. Within an inch of the ground, the antigrav generators blew out, leaving the vehicle to THUD down and bounce slightly as the engine took over and began accelerating.
"Did you need to time it that way, Phasmus?" The youngest of the squad, Quintis, said, shaking violently in his armour. Clearly his first bad landing.
"I'm afraid I had to. We were in range of too many anti-air emplacements, and our gravity field would have given them a big, fat, lumbering target any other way. This way, we were just too fast to be hit before we fell past the horizon."
"Next time, we ride the barges in." Muttered Sexta, as she hoisted the rotary rocket launcher she had been saddled with. Quite a heavy weapon, but still new, it was developed in the First Xenophobic War, and had been seeing popular use every since. When you can fire a storm of self-propelled, high explosive warheads into an area with featherweight recoil, most legionnaires quickly abandoned the normal heavy slugthrowers. "Where are we?"
Gaius looked up. "I'm receiving no line-of-sight transmissions from Duty's Price or I Told You Not To. I'm still trying to patch to them through secondaries, but it could take time. Right now I've got access to the planetary archive's maps.. I think we're about two thousand klicks off course. There's a maglev line nearby. Still intact."
The Sergeant, Tiberius, raised a brow. "What in Hades? Why would it be intact?"
"Simple. The insurgent forces are using this very line to supply their front line. It looks like it heads under the Anaxos Mountains and out under their theatre shield, right up behind their main armoured colemn." Gaius paused, considering. "Gracious Phasmas. Your treads are magnetic, are they not?"
"Yea, boss. They're made to grab onto most anything. I could probably drive us over the mountains, but they'll be finding us in hours, not days."
"That's okay. The insurgents didn't encrypt their public train schedules." Behind the visor, Gaius grinned. "A passenger train is going to arrive in a Loyalist city not a half-hour from here. If we hurry, we can catch it in the station. Then it's a matter of requisitioning it's engine from whatever faction holds it, tethering good Phasmas to the end and fiddling with the magnetic fields to let the train tow him."
"Oh." The Sergeant grunted. "So we only have to cross sixty klicks of enemy terrain while they look for us, storm a train station, jerry-rig a tank to a civilian train, and then fortify the train to survive a long haul. Sure, why not?" A deep sigh is given. "What's worse is I'm not sure what we can do. With the antigrav out, we can't even hop. Alright, Phasmas. Crank it up. Gaius, see if you can find anything more about that station. Like how many Auxilia tanks we're gonna hit."
The next twenty minutes passed in quiet activity. Guns were stripped, checked, cleaned, and prepared. Missiles and grenades were counted. Rockets secured, and wiring triple checked. The armoured vehicle bounced and rolled onwards, the crew compartment barely feeling it as it's treads leapt off the ground and back down. All too soon, the city ahead was coming into view.
The guncamera peered out at the buildings and streets ahead. "I'm not spotting any enemy armour." The voice of the Machine whispered. "But I'm betting there's some coming in now that we've been seen. Place your bets folks. Sarge, decelerating to street speed."
"Roger. Try and get us to that train station. Gaius, status on that train? And put mine on an Auxilia tank destroyer, reaaaaal pissed off."
"Train's just pulling in. Let's try not to kill too many people, yes? This is a loyalist town, after all." Gaius murmured, disconnecting from the meditative connection to the planet's communications grid and hoisting his rifle.
"I'm gonna have to say snipers." Quintis, the new guy, remarked, as he hoisted his rifle and double-checked his safety. "It's always snipers, the instant we stick our heads out."
"Drones launching." Phasmus reported. Four antigravity pods burst free of the armoured hull of the APC, flying up into the air to bob and weave through the city, scanning down streets and the buildings themselves. The big vehicle rumbled down the main street, taking up both lanes and making a racket as it's treads pulled it along a street meant for tires. It's eyes in the sky saw it, but not fast enough for it's heavy bulk to dodge. Moments later, the carrier shook with the impact of a rocket-propelled warhead.
"Shields holding! Okay, everyone out, this is your job, not mine!" Phasmus announced, as the treads threw into reverse to get out of the ambush. Another rocket plowed into the shields, as the front of the tiny 'tank' swung open, revealing the armoured infantry inside.
In groups of three, they advanced, leapfrogging out of the armoured belly of Phasmus, as more of the rockets smacked against the shields. Their own weaker defenses rang with glancing hits from ill-aimed automatic weapons fire. As soon as Sexta, bringing up the rear with her heavy armanant, cleared the ramp, the tank buttoned itself up again and reversed, ringing with more hits as the weapons fire exchange increased.
The noise of bullets in the air was unmistakable, but also muted by the helmets and armour of the squad. Two-by-two, they leapfrogged, laying down suppressing fire to keep the enemy from having time to aim at the few weakpoints a HUNTER hardsuit presented. It was no secret rebel snipers had trained themselves to, when they had time, aim at the softer joints of the suit; while none of these were over vital areas, it would still cause a massive amount of damage, and could kill.
As a flurry of rockets sprayed from Sexta's heavy weapon, turning a building's fifth floor into a fiery inferno as the air itself seemed to ignite, a godawful sound like a thunderclap, and a terrible pressure. Windows blew out, and the flash was only dulled by the sudden change of the visors to a darker, shaded opacity. As tinkling shards rained down on the armoured soldiers, they were already turning to see the crackling, vanishing shield around Phasmus dying out after a hit from some kind of heavy weapon. The tank, clearly damaged somewhat despite it's shield, limped forward at a running pace to try and use the buildings for cover.
Another horrific thunderclap, and this time, it was a building that took the hit. Six stories began to tumble as most of the first two were annihilated. Confronted with an enemy potentially trying to lock them into an area by creating huge roadblocks, the squad hurried as best they could with their load to pile back into the combat personnel carrier.
"Phasmus! No more restroom breaks!" Yelled Tiberius. "The station, and if we have to destroy some property, you are free to do so!" The Machine didn't answer with it's voice, instead gunning it's engine and roaring forward. As artillery and rocket fire rained down, the tank wove through collapsing buildings and falling power cables.
"Shields are down, I can't restore them.." Muttered the Machine. "Too much damage from the transferred momentum. And I've lost some side weaponry. This is getting somewhat dire, sir. Perhaps you should take the train and leave me behind."
"We are a squad, Phasmus. You may be a few tons overweight compared to me, but we head home as one or not at all. Guardians until death." Tiberius muttered.
"Besides, who else is going to laugh at my jokes?" Came a nervous addon from Quintus.
To say they rode on in silence would be incorrect, as the cacophany of war raged around them. Somewhere, some loyalist forces had rallied to the idea of a nearby Enclave tank, and now the artillery fire into the city was being responded to, albeit sporadically. It took some of the heat off. But only inside the tank was there such precious silence. And it was from the terrible moments the squad knew were between them and the next deadly encounter.
All too quickly, it was upon them. Phasmus gunned his engine to the redline and smashed through a fence onto the station yards, trundling towards the maglev rail. As Quintus and Sexta disembarked from the rear to connect the small tank to the train sitting on the tracks, Tiberius and Gaius hurried forward, clambering onto the train itself and running towards the engine. Magnetic clamps on their boots ensured they kept their balance on the roof of the train, never meant for this sort of stuff.
For the first time in the mission, all went by the plan. Phasmus hovered unsteadily on his magnetic grapples. The train's engineer was taken prisoner and quickly struck with a stun baton; quick, nonlethal, with no aftereffects short of a buzzing in the head and a slight tingle in the extremities. In moments, the makeshift heavy armour transport was accelerating down the line, picking up speed that Phasmus wouldn't be able to obtain. The squad met on the last car, as the driving was turned over to Phasmus via remote uplink.
"So, are we okay?" Murmured Quintus as he busied himself, like the others, in reloading and checking his kit.
"Not yet." Muttered Tiberius. "Once they realize this train left off schedule, they'll try to find out why. When they find out why, they'll try to catch up."
"When they try to catch up, they've got two options." Continued Gaius. "Aircraft, and blow us to hell, or jumptroops, and pray we have no anti-air. Or both and seek to overwhelm our anti-air options. Either way, it won't be anything good."
"Jumptroops? People still use those? I thought they died out with the Mark Fours?" Quintus blinked, looking shocked.
"No shiny automated gatling laser obseletes everything everywhere.. And even if it did, Auxilia never throw anything away. They might well have some jump troops. Whether they'll be able to catch up to us depends on where they're stationed."
Another Short Story From Andromeda.
Millions of small transports were hitting the atmosphere, burning brightly with their high-speed, ballistic re-entry. Around then, a storm of 'fakes' threatened to overload the ground sensors as the massive anti-space batteries on the ground opened up, trying to swat the invaders from the sky. The Enclave had built up this world, and now, as hardliners in the government did everything they could to destroy those humans on the ground, the massive military machine turned it's gaze on this world.
The armada was lacking in heavy capital ships; a reality due to the still-active border with the Xenophobes. But a smattering of Destroyers was theorized sufficient for the ground-support role; no capital vessels were in system. Perhaps a good thing; the huge gun mounts now firing would have been harder for the big ships to dodge, and feeding off the world's power grid, they could bring more to bear than a single ship's powercore could supply to shields.
One particularly well-equipped site launched a flurry of missiles up into the clouds of transports and decoys..
Aboard the infantry transport, the individuals within were as relaxed as if they were in an elevator. They couldn't feel any signs of the descent or the violence of re-entry and maneuvering to avoid incoming fire. In the rear, two drone-controlled LAVs sat, each the size of a small table with a large weapon mounted atop them. Between them, a single Tempestus heavy APC sat, looking like a baby tank on it's three treads.
In fact, the ride was so smooth, the first sign of trouble was the voice of the transport's Machine, clearing it's nonexistant throat. "If everyone could, and this is the key bit, move very quickly to the vehicle bay and strap into the Tempestus, that'd be juuust nifty. This is going to be a very poor landing."
Before his squad could speak, the Sergeant, a short, bulky man from a high-gravity Habitat, snapped. "Everyone back and strap in. We'll jettison if we have to, the carrier can handle it. Shut up and go!" It wasn't the most orderly movement.. The troops had expected to land behind their own lines and augment an armoured thrust of Hades battle tanks, but plans never worked out.
The crew was buttoned into the heavy vehicle just as the transport's engines flared out completely, and the artificial gravity died. The treads activated strong magnetic clamps, adhering to the deck and rolling backwards towards the bay doors that would let it out. The turret swung around and the Machine chirped up. "Transfer complete, Sergeant. Requesting permission to ditch this flying coffin?"
"Granted. Get us out of here, Phasmus." The main cannon thundered, firing a solid slug into the bay doors. The force of air being ripped from the transport did the rest, rending the weakened hull apart here. The treads released, and the armoured vehicle began it's free-fall tumble towards the ground below.
A mere kilometer from the ground, the powerful antigrav generators kicked in. The APC levelled out, as the generators strained to bear the load. It slowed like it had hit a particularly soft and gentle cloud, slowing to a gentle touchdown. Within an inch of the ground, the antigrav generators blew out, leaving the vehicle to THUD down and bounce slightly as the engine took over and began accelerating.
"Did you need to time it that way, Phasmus?" The youngest of the squad, Quintis, said, shaking violently in his armour. Clearly his first bad landing.
"I'm afraid I had to. We were in range of too many anti-air emplacements, and our gravity field would have given them a big, fat, lumbering target any other way. This way, we were just too fast to be hit before we fell past the horizon."
"Next time, we ride the barges in." Muttered Sexta, as she hoisted the rotary rocket launcher she had been saddled with. Quite a heavy weapon, but still new, it was developed in the First Xenophobic War, and had been seeing popular use every since. When you can fire a storm of self-propelled, high explosive warheads into an area with featherweight recoil, most legionnaires quickly abandoned the normal heavy slugthrowers. "Where are we?"
Gaius looked up. "I'm receiving no line-of-sight transmissions from Duty's Price or I Told You Not To. I'm still trying to patch to them through secondaries, but it could take time. Right now I've got access to the planetary archive's maps.. I think we're about two thousand klicks off course. There's a maglev line nearby. Still intact."
The Sergeant, Tiberius, raised a brow. "What in Hades? Why would it be intact?"
"Simple. The insurgent forces are using this very line to supply their front line. It looks like it heads under the Anaxos Mountains and out under their theatre shield, right up behind their main armoured colemn." Gaius paused, considering. "Gracious Phasmas. Your treads are magnetic, are they not?"
"Yea, boss. They're made to grab onto most anything. I could probably drive us over the mountains, but they'll be finding us in hours, not days."
"That's okay. The insurgents didn't encrypt their public train schedules." Behind the visor, Gaius grinned. "A passenger train is going to arrive in a Loyalist city not a half-hour from here. If we hurry, we can catch it in the station. Then it's a matter of requisitioning it's engine from whatever faction holds it, tethering good Phasmas to the end and fiddling with the magnetic fields to let the train tow him."
"Oh." The Sergeant grunted. "So we only have to cross sixty klicks of enemy terrain while they look for us, storm a train station, jerry-rig a tank to a civilian train, and then fortify the train to survive a long haul. Sure, why not?" A deep sigh is given. "What's worse is I'm not sure what we can do. With the antigrav out, we can't even hop. Alright, Phasmas. Crank it up. Gaius, see if you can find anything more about that station. Like how many Auxilia tanks we're gonna hit."
The next twenty minutes passed in quiet activity. Guns were stripped, checked, cleaned, and prepared. Missiles and grenades were counted. Rockets secured, and wiring triple checked. The armoured vehicle bounced and rolled onwards, the crew compartment barely feeling it as it's treads leapt off the ground and back down. All too soon, the city ahead was coming into view.
The guncamera peered out at the buildings and streets ahead. "I'm not spotting any enemy armour." The voice of the Machine whispered. "But I'm betting there's some coming in now that we've been seen. Place your bets folks. Sarge, decelerating to street speed."
"Roger. Try and get us to that train station. Gaius, status on that train? And put mine on an Auxilia tank destroyer, reaaaaal pissed off."
"Train's just pulling in. Let's try not to kill too many people, yes? This is a loyalist town, after all." Gaius murmured, disconnecting from the meditative connection to the planet's communications grid and hoisting his rifle.
"I'm gonna have to say snipers." Quintis, the new guy, remarked, as he hoisted his rifle and double-checked his safety. "It's always snipers, the instant we stick our heads out."
"Drones launching." Phasmus reported. Four antigravity pods burst free of the armoured hull of the APC, flying up into the air to bob and weave through the city, scanning down streets and the buildings themselves. The big vehicle rumbled down the main street, taking up both lanes and making a racket as it's treads pulled it along a street meant for tires. It's eyes in the sky saw it, but not fast enough for it's heavy bulk to dodge. Moments later, the carrier shook with the impact of a rocket-propelled warhead.
"Shields holding! Okay, everyone out, this is your job, not mine!" Phasmus announced, as the treads threw into reverse to get out of the ambush. Another rocket plowed into the shields, as the front of the tiny 'tank' swung open, revealing the armoured infantry inside.
In groups of three, they advanced, leapfrogging out of the armoured belly of Phasmus, as more of the rockets smacked against the shields. Their own weaker defenses rang with glancing hits from ill-aimed automatic weapons fire. As soon as Sexta, bringing up the rear with her heavy armanant, cleared the ramp, the tank buttoned itself up again and reversed, ringing with more hits as the weapons fire exchange increased.
The noise of bullets in the air was unmistakable, but also muted by the helmets and armour of the squad. Two-by-two, they leapfrogged, laying down suppressing fire to keep the enemy from having time to aim at the few weakpoints a HUNTER hardsuit presented. It was no secret rebel snipers had trained themselves to, when they had time, aim at the softer joints of the suit; while none of these were over vital areas, it would still cause a massive amount of damage, and could kill.
As a flurry of rockets sprayed from Sexta's heavy weapon, turning a building's fifth floor into a fiery inferno as the air itself seemed to ignite, a godawful sound like a thunderclap, and a terrible pressure. Windows blew out, and the flash was only dulled by the sudden change of the visors to a darker, shaded opacity. As tinkling shards rained down on the armoured soldiers, they were already turning to see the crackling, vanishing shield around Phasmus dying out after a hit from some kind of heavy weapon. The tank, clearly damaged somewhat despite it's shield, limped forward at a running pace to try and use the buildings for cover.
Another horrific thunderclap, and this time, it was a building that took the hit. Six stories began to tumble as most of the first two were annihilated. Confronted with an enemy potentially trying to lock them into an area by creating huge roadblocks, the squad hurried as best they could with their load to pile back into the combat personnel carrier.
"Phasmus! No more restroom breaks!" Yelled Tiberius. "The station, and if we have to destroy some property, you are free to do so!" The Machine didn't answer with it's voice, instead gunning it's engine and roaring forward. As artillery and rocket fire rained down, the tank wove through collapsing buildings and falling power cables.
"Shields are down, I can't restore them.." Muttered the Machine. "Too much damage from the transferred momentum. And I've lost some side weaponry. This is getting somewhat dire, sir. Perhaps you should take the train and leave me behind."
"We are a squad, Phasmus. You may be a few tons overweight compared to me, but we head home as one or not at all. Guardians until death." Tiberius muttered.
"Besides, who else is going to laugh at my jokes?" Came a nervous addon from Quintus.
To say they rode on in silence would be incorrect, as the cacophany of war raged around them. Somewhere, some loyalist forces had rallied to the idea of a nearby Enclave tank, and now the artillery fire into the city was being responded to, albeit sporadically. It took some of the heat off. But only inside the tank was there such precious silence. And it was from the terrible moments the squad knew were between them and the next deadly encounter.
All too quickly, it was upon them. Phasmus gunned his engine to the redline and smashed through a fence onto the station yards, trundling towards the maglev rail. As Quintus and Sexta disembarked from the rear to connect the small tank to the train sitting on the tracks, Tiberius and Gaius hurried forward, clambering onto the train itself and running towards the engine. Magnetic clamps on their boots ensured they kept their balance on the roof of the train, never meant for this sort of stuff.
For the first time in the mission, all went by the plan. Phasmus hovered unsteadily on his magnetic grapples. The train's engineer was taken prisoner and quickly struck with a stun baton; quick, nonlethal, with no aftereffects short of a buzzing in the head and a slight tingle in the extremities. In moments, the makeshift heavy armour transport was accelerating down the line, picking up speed that Phasmus wouldn't be able to obtain. The squad met on the last car, as the driving was turned over to Phasmus via remote uplink.
"So, are we okay?" Murmured Quintus as he busied himself, like the others, in reloading and checking his kit.
"Not yet." Muttered Tiberius. "Once they realize this train left off schedule, they'll try to find out why. When they find out why, they'll try to catch up."
"When they try to catch up, they've got two options." Continued Gaius. "Aircraft, and blow us to hell, or jumptroops, and pray we have no anti-air. Or both and seek to overwhelm our anti-air options. Either way, it won't be anything good."
"Jumptroops? People still use those? I thought they died out with the Mark Fours?" Quintus blinked, looking shocked.
"No shiny automated gatling laser obseletes everything everywhere.. And even if it did, Auxilia never throw anything away. They might well have some jump troops. Whether they'll be able to catch up to us depends on where they're stationed."
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Gee... it only took a year and a day for this one to pop out... 
You need to Write More, silly man!
You need to Write More, silly man!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
The maglev screamed down the tracks at breakneck speed, pushed well past the redline. The occasional spot of smoke billowing from it's overworked frame revealed it's declining integrity, but the mountain was just ahead. Above and behind, two of Phasmus' spotter drones strained to keep pace, but continued to lag behind. Despite the incredible velocity, something was gaining.
The drones lifted higher, trying to keep within view of Phasmus' transmittors while looking further back. "I have identified our pursuers." The tank's Computer spoke to the rest of the squad. "Two squads Auxilia Jumptroopers, one... Jotunn Reaper-class atmospheric craft."
"What?" Snapped Tiberius, in the front of the train. "The Jotunn are here? Gaius, get this heap going faster! We're not match if that thing draws a bead on us!" There was momentary clamour over the channel, then Tiberius screamed into his mic. "Silence! Everyone else, up top with your rifles and pods! We are not dying here!"
The squad assembled up onto the roof of the train, each HUNTER suit's boots engaging magnetic locks on the surface as they knelt. Each Legionnaire clicked a disposable pod of micromissiles onto the underside of the barrels. Safeties clicked off, and Phasmus' missiles were uncovered in their verticle-launch configuration.
"Here they come.." Murmured Quistis. In the corner of each helmet's visor, a small screen showed red squares, the recon drone's view of the approaching jumptroopers. The seconds stretched out as the range indicator dropped like a rock.
Sweatdrops formed inside the helmets. Breath was held. Then, finally, came Phasmus' voice. "Weapons lock.. Acheived. Handoff active."
Tiberius ordered the firing not with a word, but with a tug of his trigger. The first tiny projectile was quickly joined by a storm of it's friends, streaking low and fast over the ground. Hugging the terrain and hiding in the maglev tracks' magnetic field, they were only noticed at the last moment.. The first squad of jumptroops vanished in a hail of fireballs.
The squad was tossing aside the first set of pods, slapping a second into place when Phasmus reported. "Targets have altered velocity. The Jotunn craft is repositioning to provide cover. The second volley won't be as useful..."
"I've got something in mind for this." Tiberius smirked, unclipping his pod and grabbing one from his belt. It had duct-tape on it's underside, an 'X". "Just get the others to the targets, or as close as you can. I'll do what I can."
"Hold fire.." Phasmus muttered. "I'll need the shots to be very close for this to work a second time.."
The silence could have been cut with a knife. There was just the sound of breath against mics. The Jotunn craft was just starting to appear on the horizon, above the jumptroops like a protective mother bird. Then the weapons fire began.
The launches were staggered, so the storm of missiles remained continuous as some of them changed out spent pods for new ones. The Reaper's hull flashed in the sun, the air wavering as lasers darted from it's hull to swat the little, noisy missiles from the air. Even popping up from the tracks and the relative safety of their magnetic noise, they were getting smashed apart.
Perhaps a half-dozen made it up, most popping around the jumptroops but not seriously wounding them. One slammed into the Reaper's underhull, but failed to detonate. Inside, the pilot, a Parahuman nearly ten feet tall and bluish-skinned, sniggered to himself. "Enclave garbage, never does work.."
"Viral missile has penetrated and is interlocking with enemy systems. Traffic untranslatable." Phasmus reported.
"Flood the circuits and crash the bastard! Everyone else, stand by to repel boarders!" Tiberius snapped off. The Legionnaires descended into the train, even as the first jumptroopers landed on it. Several fell to Phasmus' anti-air fire, but the Computer's mind was elsewhere.
The Reaper was moving to fire on the tank, when it's controls stopped responding. Everything became sluggish. Monitors flooded with white noise. Enclave tanks weren't capable of hacking Jotunn war machines, and the viral weapons used by the troops were incapable of harming their strange programming.
But they had become adept at flooding the circuits with 'noise', nonsense sequences that overloaded all but the most capable of datacores. The aircraft fell from the sky, heading for the ground as the train and tank vanished into the tunnel.
The lights came on, and seconds later, weapons fire from Auxilia lightguns fried them, leaving both sides in flickering darkness. Sporadic gunfire hailed back and forth, bullets flying one way, flashes of multihued light the other. With minimal visibility and ready cover, the fire was often ineffective. Smoke grenades filled the cars, as the Auxilia sought to blind the superior Legion optics.
"Shit. Everyone fall back!" Tiberius snapped, and then there was a scream from his voice. Gaius darted to one side, grabbing the Sergeant. Even in the poor lighting, it was possible to see the armour plates partially melted. The Auxilia weaponry could bring down a Legionnaire, if they got lucky. In pairs of two while the rest provided covering fire, the squad fell backwards through the train, heading for Phasmus.
"They've got control of the train!" Snapped Sexta, spraying the door the opposition would be storming through with rocket fire. "They'll stop us and take us back!"
"Not quite." Gaius grunted, opening the rear down. A few terrifying inches of empty space away, Phasmus' sloped hull hung, it's headlamps providing more illumination than the interior of the train. "I fried the computer. This is officially one way into the enemy lines. Now, jump!"
Compared to enemy artillery, tank destroyers, Jotunn aircraft, and enemy soldiers in a cramped train, a few inches of air should be nothing. The track flashing by underneath in excess of two hundred miles an hour, however, begged to differ. One by one, the Legionnaires hopped the gap, dragging themselves into the armoured carrier. Gaius carried the leader, and pulled the hatch closed behind him, just in time for Phasmus' shield to disperse the weapons fire from the Auxilia.
"Now would be a good time to uncouple from the train, big guy.." Quistis muttered quickly. The tank began to slow, the train picked up speed as the excess weight vanished. Ahead, light was clear... And seconds later, through the viewscreens, they saw the explosions that swallowed the train. The Auxilia units, unaware the train had been retaken, had fired on the 'Enclave Controlled' vehicle.
Phasmus roared through the fireball, it's shields brilliant, it's missiles and repeaters firing non-stop, it's cannon blasting at anything looking big enough to merit a shot. "Shields at sevent-.. Six-.. Fif.. All hands brace, we're.." The voice was overpowered when there was a deafening explosion, knocking the tank over and plowing forward on it's momentum. The Legionnaires took several seconds to recover, and wondered why they weren't dead.
Outside, the smoking remains of a shield generator, pierced by Phasmus' last shell, melted down from the overload. Heavy weapons pounded down from the I Told You Not To, clearing a path for the battle tanks, now rumbling forward. The appearance of Phasmus, broadcasting a distress signal, would make for an interesting footnote in the After Action Reports...
The drones lifted higher, trying to keep within view of Phasmus' transmittors while looking further back. "I have identified our pursuers." The tank's Computer spoke to the rest of the squad. "Two squads Auxilia Jumptroopers, one... Jotunn Reaper-class atmospheric craft."
"What?" Snapped Tiberius, in the front of the train. "The Jotunn are here? Gaius, get this heap going faster! We're not match if that thing draws a bead on us!" There was momentary clamour over the channel, then Tiberius screamed into his mic. "Silence! Everyone else, up top with your rifles and pods! We are not dying here!"
The squad assembled up onto the roof of the train, each HUNTER suit's boots engaging magnetic locks on the surface as they knelt. Each Legionnaire clicked a disposable pod of micromissiles onto the underside of the barrels. Safeties clicked off, and Phasmus' missiles were uncovered in their verticle-launch configuration.
"Here they come.." Murmured Quistis. In the corner of each helmet's visor, a small screen showed red squares, the recon drone's view of the approaching jumptroopers. The seconds stretched out as the range indicator dropped like a rock.
Sweatdrops formed inside the helmets. Breath was held. Then, finally, came Phasmus' voice. "Weapons lock.. Acheived. Handoff active."
Tiberius ordered the firing not with a word, but with a tug of his trigger. The first tiny projectile was quickly joined by a storm of it's friends, streaking low and fast over the ground. Hugging the terrain and hiding in the maglev tracks' magnetic field, they were only noticed at the last moment.. The first squad of jumptroops vanished in a hail of fireballs.
The squad was tossing aside the first set of pods, slapping a second into place when Phasmus reported. "Targets have altered velocity. The Jotunn craft is repositioning to provide cover. The second volley won't be as useful..."
"I've got something in mind for this." Tiberius smirked, unclipping his pod and grabbing one from his belt. It had duct-tape on it's underside, an 'X". "Just get the others to the targets, or as close as you can. I'll do what I can."
"Hold fire.." Phasmus muttered. "I'll need the shots to be very close for this to work a second time.."
The silence could have been cut with a knife. There was just the sound of breath against mics. The Jotunn craft was just starting to appear on the horizon, above the jumptroops like a protective mother bird. Then the weapons fire began.
The launches were staggered, so the storm of missiles remained continuous as some of them changed out spent pods for new ones. The Reaper's hull flashed in the sun, the air wavering as lasers darted from it's hull to swat the little, noisy missiles from the air. Even popping up from the tracks and the relative safety of their magnetic noise, they were getting smashed apart.
Perhaps a half-dozen made it up, most popping around the jumptroops but not seriously wounding them. One slammed into the Reaper's underhull, but failed to detonate. Inside, the pilot, a Parahuman nearly ten feet tall and bluish-skinned, sniggered to himself. "Enclave garbage, never does work.."
"Viral missile has penetrated and is interlocking with enemy systems. Traffic untranslatable." Phasmus reported.
"Flood the circuits and crash the bastard! Everyone else, stand by to repel boarders!" Tiberius snapped off. The Legionnaires descended into the train, even as the first jumptroopers landed on it. Several fell to Phasmus' anti-air fire, but the Computer's mind was elsewhere.
The Reaper was moving to fire on the tank, when it's controls stopped responding. Everything became sluggish. Monitors flooded with white noise. Enclave tanks weren't capable of hacking Jotunn war machines, and the viral weapons used by the troops were incapable of harming their strange programming.
But they had become adept at flooding the circuits with 'noise', nonsense sequences that overloaded all but the most capable of datacores. The aircraft fell from the sky, heading for the ground as the train and tank vanished into the tunnel.
The lights came on, and seconds later, weapons fire from Auxilia lightguns fried them, leaving both sides in flickering darkness. Sporadic gunfire hailed back and forth, bullets flying one way, flashes of multihued light the other. With minimal visibility and ready cover, the fire was often ineffective. Smoke grenades filled the cars, as the Auxilia sought to blind the superior Legion optics.
"Shit. Everyone fall back!" Tiberius snapped, and then there was a scream from his voice. Gaius darted to one side, grabbing the Sergeant. Even in the poor lighting, it was possible to see the armour plates partially melted. The Auxilia weaponry could bring down a Legionnaire, if they got lucky. In pairs of two while the rest provided covering fire, the squad fell backwards through the train, heading for Phasmus.
"They've got control of the train!" Snapped Sexta, spraying the door the opposition would be storming through with rocket fire. "They'll stop us and take us back!"
"Not quite." Gaius grunted, opening the rear down. A few terrifying inches of empty space away, Phasmus' sloped hull hung, it's headlamps providing more illumination than the interior of the train. "I fried the computer. This is officially one way into the enemy lines. Now, jump!"
Compared to enemy artillery, tank destroyers, Jotunn aircraft, and enemy soldiers in a cramped train, a few inches of air should be nothing. The track flashing by underneath in excess of two hundred miles an hour, however, begged to differ. One by one, the Legionnaires hopped the gap, dragging themselves into the armoured carrier. Gaius carried the leader, and pulled the hatch closed behind him, just in time for Phasmus' shield to disperse the weapons fire from the Auxilia.
"Now would be a good time to uncouple from the train, big guy.." Quistis muttered quickly. The tank began to slow, the train picked up speed as the excess weight vanished. Ahead, light was clear... And seconds later, through the viewscreens, they saw the explosions that swallowed the train. The Auxilia units, unaware the train had been retaken, had fired on the 'Enclave Controlled' vehicle.
Phasmus roared through the fireball, it's shields brilliant, it's missiles and repeaters firing non-stop, it's cannon blasting at anything looking big enough to merit a shot. "Shields at sevent-.. Six-.. Fif.. All hands brace, we're.." The voice was overpowered when there was a deafening explosion, knocking the tank over and plowing forward on it's momentum. The Legionnaires took several seconds to recover, and wondered why they weren't dead.
Outside, the smoking remains of a shield generator, pierced by Phasmus' last shell, melted down from the overload. Heavy weapons pounded down from the I Told You Not To, clearing a path for the battle tanks, now rumbling forward. The appearance of Phasmus, broadcasting a distress signal, would make for an interesting footnote in the After Action Reports...
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
In other words, Phasmus got off the one lucky shot that brought down the shields, and the Enclave won? Fantastic!!
*huggles* That was well worth the wait, m'love
*huggles* That was well worth the wait, m'love
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
SirNitram
- Rest in Peace, Black Mage
- Posts: 28367
- Joined: 2002-07-03 04:48pm
- Location: Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere
Downtime
Nine huge vehicles crept forward across the plains. Each was the size of a city block, multiple stories high. They were completely without stealth or subtly, but the Legio Obsidius liked it that way. The square pattern they used emphasized their equipment, with four shield emittors protecting the four heavy weapons equipment. The central one, of course, was a moving hospital.
With no interstellar transports that could be spared, and the nearest hospital ship a day away, dealing with a viral outbreak, the Palisades Medicae was working overtime on those who had been injured in the rolling ground war. The convoy was attended to by smaller vehicles, assigned to drive off any assault on the huge slabs. From above, aircraft brought supplies and munitions from orbit to the huge vehicles.
Within, on the Repair Garage level, a team of mechanics stared at what remained of Phasmus. The personel carrier was on it's side, exposing it's ruined treads as the attempt to make her combat worthy began. Within a few feet was the rest of the squad, watching the repairs at work on their digital partner. And on their Sergeant.
Tiberius had been told he was confined to his bed, and no amount of rank-pulling had worked to change this. So, he had opted for another tactic. He had arranged his bed to be wheeled down to the repair garage so he could be with his squad, even as the bed's onboard medical robotics were doing their best to keep him from exerting himself.
"You're sure it was a Jotunn craft?" Asked the head mechanic, as he took a break from working with the treads. "We've not heard any other reports on them in this sector. I mean, they're not the most sutble."
Tiberius shook his head, causing a noise of frustration from his bed as it tried to restrain him. "It was Jotunn; a Reaper-class, in fact. It was escorting Auxilia jumptroops." Murmurs of ascent came from the rest of the squad.
"Don't know why they'd be interested in this place.. Native's aren't even human. We've never uncovered any pre-Human tech here, either, despite all the rumours. Though.. I guess the rumours might explain it."
Sexta grunted. "Of course. The Jotunn just try and scrounge up anything they can grab. Which would explain the sudden shift in popular opinion here, if they got ahold of enough public officials..."
"Right." Tiberius mumbled, as the bed made a strong attempt to keep him in place and medicate him. "Which means this could be bigger than we thought. We'll need to get word to Entry Point.."
"I'll send this up the chain." The head mechanic nodded. "Dunno if you'll get anything back, but it seems to me this is worth investigating. And, frankly, it'll be weeks before this tank is ready for frontline duty. Maybe I can find something that'll suit a different mission.. I'll talk to your brass."
Nine huge vehicles crept forward across the plains. Each was the size of a city block, multiple stories high. They were completely without stealth or subtly, but the Legio Obsidius liked it that way. The square pattern they used emphasized their equipment, with four shield emittors protecting the four heavy weapons equipment. The central one, of course, was a moving hospital.
With no interstellar transports that could be spared, and the nearest hospital ship a day away, dealing with a viral outbreak, the Palisades Medicae was working overtime on those who had been injured in the rolling ground war. The convoy was attended to by smaller vehicles, assigned to drive off any assault on the huge slabs. From above, aircraft brought supplies and munitions from orbit to the huge vehicles.
Within, on the Repair Garage level, a team of mechanics stared at what remained of Phasmus. The personel carrier was on it's side, exposing it's ruined treads as the attempt to make her combat worthy began. Within a few feet was the rest of the squad, watching the repairs at work on their digital partner. And on their Sergeant.
Tiberius had been told he was confined to his bed, and no amount of rank-pulling had worked to change this. So, he had opted for another tactic. He had arranged his bed to be wheeled down to the repair garage so he could be with his squad, even as the bed's onboard medical robotics were doing their best to keep him from exerting himself.
"You're sure it was a Jotunn craft?" Asked the head mechanic, as he took a break from working with the treads. "We've not heard any other reports on them in this sector. I mean, they're not the most sutble."
Tiberius shook his head, causing a noise of frustration from his bed as it tried to restrain him. "It was Jotunn; a Reaper-class, in fact. It was escorting Auxilia jumptroops." Murmurs of ascent came from the rest of the squad.
"Don't know why they'd be interested in this place.. Native's aren't even human. We've never uncovered any pre-Human tech here, either, despite all the rumours. Though.. I guess the rumours might explain it."
Sexta grunted. "Of course. The Jotunn just try and scrounge up anything they can grab. Which would explain the sudden shift in popular opinion here, if they got ahold of enough public officials..."
"Right." Tiberius mumbled, as the bed made a strong attempt to keep him in place and medicate him. "Which means this could be bigger than we thought. We'll need to get word to Entry Point.."
"I'll send this up the chain." The head mechanic nodded. "Dunno if you'll get anything back, but it seems to me this is worth investigating. And, frankly, it'll be weeks before this tank is ready for frontline duty. Maybe I can find something that'll suit a different mission.. I'll talk to your brass."
Manic Progressive: A liberal who violently swings from anger at politicos to despondency over them.
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
Out Of Context theatre: Ron Paul has repeatedly said he's not a racist. - Destructinator XIII on why Ron Paul isn't racist.
Shadowy Overlord - BMs/Black Mage Monkey - BOTM/Jetfire - Cybertron's Finest/General Miscreant/ASVS/Supermoderator Emeritus
Debator Classification: Trollhunter
-
Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 8254
- Joined: 2005-05-16 04:08am
- Location: The real number domain
Fabricator Nitty, you've got the skills, to be sure. Damn nice shorts; a nice blend of humour and action (which I noticed in that other story of yours I've read). I'd certainly like to see more of this sort of thing. I could get into these Enclave shorts - I mean seriously; fight on a bullet train? Genius!
What is Project Zohar?
Here's to a certain mostly harmless nutcase.
Here's to a certain mostly harmless nutcase.
He forgot the scene where the mechanics were standing around asking "How the hell did you blow the third tread like that?"
But I'm glad you finally put it up, after so much brainstorming, m'love. *kiss*
But I'm glad you finally put it up, after so much brainstorming, m'love. *kiss*
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
