//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 // Story: EXECUTIONER ONE // by Hurgusburgus //------------------------------// “Executioner, calm down! What's gotten into you?” Twilight shouted irately at the restless mech. Following the COLOSSAL FOGHORN NOISE from the orchestral fiasco, it had declared that it was mating season, and tried to run off into the yonderish yonder. Twilight had put a quick stop to that. THIS UNIT MUST GO. THIS UNIT'S PLANET NEEDS IT. “And how exactly do you plan to get off-world if you can't even jump?” AWWW. “Now, just calm down and relax or something. I'm sure your friends will come along soon and fix you up.” She smiled a bit, patting the mech's leg. ACKNOWLEDGED. Twilight smiled a bit wider as she trotted away. Sometimes, it was mind-numbingly easy to placate the machine, yet there were times it would be easier to play Jenga blindfolded than to keep Executioner One calm. DO YOU WANT A CHEESEBURGER? “I rest my case...” Twilight muttered resignedly as she trotted back towards the mech. She was about to speak when its horn blared and its voice followed moments after. PRIORITY ONE TRANSMISSION RECEIVED. RETRIEVAL PROTOCOL INITIATED. LAUNCHING RELAY BEACON. With a shrill shriek, a small object rocketed from the mech's hull, rapidly soaring upwards, a blue flame propelling it. Curious, Twilight stepped closer, casting a last wary glance at the now-distant object high in the sky. “Uh... Executioner? What just happened?” THIS UNIT HAS RECEIVED A MESSAGE OF HIGH IMPORTANCE. EXECUTIONER ONE HAS DEPLOYED A PROBE DEVICE TO ALERT IMPERIAL OR COALITION UNITS OF ITS LOCATION. It took Twilight a moment to understand the words, but when she realised what the mech said to her, their meaning hit her like a sledgehammer. “Y-you mean... they're coming here?” She muttered out in disbelief. AFFIRMATIVE. Oh. Oh dear. She had to tell Princess Celestia about this right away! Quickly, she turned around and galloped towards the Golden Oaks library. “SPIIIKE!” A moment later, the startled drake fell down the stairs, several half-eaten gems clattering in his wake. “Ack~ What is it, Twilight? What sort of disaster is to befall Ponyville this time?” He asked, sitting up as he regained his bearings. “No time! Get me a quill and a scroll, stat!” The frantic unicorn snapped. “Alright, alright, sheesh. I'll be right back...” He grumbled, running off, and returned a moment later, clutching said items. “So, what happened, anyways?” “Well, I'm not quite sure myself. I need to consult Princess Celestia about this first.” Her horn lit up as she dragged over the parchment and quill, scribbling frantically. Time was of the essence as of now. She didn't know how long would it take for the Coalition to find the beacon, and that was what worried her – a good number of the Rebels' soldiers were xenophobic and slow to trust, though they had a good reason to – the Advent and Vasari had brought colossal devastation upon them. It would be foolish not to prepare the Guard for the inevitable contact. Returning her attention to the task at hoof, she finished the letter, passing it to Spike. The dragon blew a plume of green flame upon it and they both watched as it disappeared. “So, what's the hurry?” He turned to look at the nervous Twilight. “Oh, nothing serious, it's just that we might get visited by a bunch of ruthless, trigger-happy aliens.” “Huh. Oka-wait, what?” Twilight sighed, rubbing her face. This was going to be a long day. “Exactly what it sounds like. Come on, let's gather up the girls and explain this to them.” The adolescent drake shrugged as he jumped onto her back. “Right on. So, now that you've notified the Princess, can you tell me what exactly happened?” “Well, it said that it'd received some sort of a message – an important one, at that. I guess it triggered something and Executioner just launched some sort of a beacon.” That got Spike's attention, alright. “Oooh. Well, I can see now why you were in such a hurry.” “Exactly! So many things can go wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin!” Twilight exclaimed, then sighed wearily. “Let's just deal with these things as they come, I guess.” Spike shrugged noncomitally. “Whatever you say, Twilight.” Celestia blinked in surprise as the scroll of parchment dropped onto the bed. Curious, she picked it up, unrolling it and began to read. Only a moment passed before she discarded it and sat up, her horn lighting up as she dragged over several scrolls of parchment – orders would need to be issued to the Royal Guard to hopefully prevent any trouble with the Rebel soldiers, should any issues arise. As she did so, the forgotten dataslate lit up, beeping loudly. Curious, she picked it up, eyeing the screen – a message had been sent by the Executioner. Humming softly to herself, she opened it. A brief moment of static ensued before it resolved into a voice. “To anyone who might be listening to this message – this is the Rebel Queen. This infernal stalemate, this civil war has dragged on for long enough. Now, then – only those with a Coalition or Imperial equipment will be able to make sense of this data.” The screen blinked again, and Celestia's heart missed a beat – there were locations of weapons caches, supply stores hidden away, flotillas lying in wait, hidden from prying eyes, names and whereabouts of undercover Rebel contacts, manoeuvres and timetables for them, rally points, orders, tactics... It was a mind-staggering undertaking. Insanely ambitious, daring and capable of causing untold amounts of damage if executed properly. “To the Vasari I say this – your people are on the verge of extinction. Your commanders continuously churn out clones of century-old Vasari, hoping to drown us in their blood, uncaring that the more they clone, the more the copies are warped and corrupted. Eventually, you will be left with nothing but grotesque things, a far cry of what they once were. The Vasari were once a great people, I'm told. Join the Rebellion, and I shall give you the chance to be such once more.” Celestia's ears perked up as she continued listening to the message, her eyes glancing across the dataslate. “To the Advent I have this to say – your blind drive for revenge is your own undoing. In your rush to claim Leydan Rim, you've left your supply lines unprotected. My raiding fleets have been draining you of precious resources and soon, you will have nothing but starved crews and unfuelled fleets. But, revenge is something I understand. Our forefathers exiled your entire race into deep space for reasons forgotten. I cannot undo this transgression - but I can give you your homeworld back. I will undo the lockdown imposed upon it, and let your people re-settle it. But if you'd rather fight until the bitter end, that's fine by me. Your so-called deviants can look past our history – that is why they joined the Rebellion.” Celestia hummed to herself thoughtfully for a moment as the message drew to a close. “Do not give up. Do not lose hope. Together, we shall bring an end to this war. Follow the instructions embedded in this message and we will prevail.” With that, the transmission ended, leaving Celestia deep in thought. Several long moments later, she set the dataslate down, resuming her previous task – to prepare for the eventual arrival of the Rebels. The thrum of engines was only one of the sounds that permeated the dropship's interior. The chatter between Cara and Naela hadn't abated, the craft's pilot was still communicating with the other fliers that followed them, descending rapidly into the planet's atmosphere, the dropship's hull was letting out the occasional creak as it coped with the additional g-forces. The rest of the troops onboard were also talking among themselves – a mix of humans, Vasari and Asli – and cast the occasional nervous glance at the imposing figure standing in the middle of the troop bay. Truthfully, they had the right to be nervous – Lieia knew she was an intimidating sight, clad as she was in her old 1st-gen EXO power armor that towered above everyone present. Only one hundred and fifty of those had been manufactured in the opening months of the war – and each unit was worth over 300 billion credits. With her ascension to the throne, she'd decided to add golden markings to her suit, just to humor her sister. Strips of golden paint had been added to her trusty armor, along with the simple coat of arms Rebels marked their possessions with – two vertical lines supporting a short, wide V. Though she'd often groused about doing so, Lieia saw the need for it – in hard times, a reminder of what they fought for did wonders to keep the troops' morale above waterline, so to speak. “We're entering AA range now! Everyone buckle up!” Immediately, her soldiers strapped themselves into their seats. Lieia sat down on the floor with a clunk, clamping her NX-61 rifle to the magnetic plate on her back. Outside the protective shell of their dropship, the muffled thumps of explosions could be heard as the Vasari anti-aircraft turrets reacted to hostile presence. “Taking hostile fire! Evasive man-” That was as far as the pilot got before a cluster missile struck the dropship's cockpit, ending his life in a flash. With the shrieking clamour of torn metal, the dropship began to plummet, smoke filling the troop bay with the smell of blood, oil and burnt wiring. With a groan, Lieia stood up, her armor's helmet assembling into place around her head. She leapt up the now-sloped floor, crawling up to a control panel, punching in the release code. The explosive bolts blew, the craft's ramp whirling away as she turned to look at the soldiers who'd unbuckled by now and were clinging to their seats' edges. “Get going, people! Gravity ain't gonna wait on anyone!” A chorus of 'yes, ma'am' followed as they clambered up and past her, rocketing away with the help of their jump packs. All but one, that is. “Lee, come on!” The Rebel leader ignored Cara's cry, instead entering new data into what was left of the dropship's nav-computer. With another tortured groan, the craft began to bank. “Cara, go on ahead! I'll meet you down on the ground!” The white-armored woman stumbled around for a moment. “Wait, are you going to crash this thing into an AA turret? Are you insane?!” “You know me so well! And you already know the answer to that question! Now, promise you won't hold this against me!” A confused 'huh' was all her sister managed to get out before she found herself tossed out of the stricken flier. “Asshooole~” Smirking to herself, Lieia turned around in preparation for the impact, just as her comms link crackled into life. “My Queen, we have just received a Priority One message! It says-” Lieia interrupted the man as she saw the dull metal of a flak turret rush up to greet her. “Uh, give me a moment. I'll be right back.” With a colossal crash, the burning dropship tore through the metal surface, obliterating the turret's magazine, where the missiles were kept, a great gout of flame welling up a moment later as the potent munitions detonated. Another long moment passed before the power lines also erupted, blinding flashes blooming across the desolate landscape, soon reaching other emplacements. With the Vasari's primary air defences gone, the fliers began to descend en-masse, banking and dodging whatever secondary ordnance the Vasari managed to send skyward. Soon, hundreds of feet and dozens of threads churned the ground as the attack began in earnest. The grating noise probably meant something was stuck in her armor's shoulderpiece, this something most likely being a piece of metal. Groaning to herself, Lieia pushed something heavy aside, tentatively standing up. When the floor didn't collapse under her weight, she sighed and continued onwards, digging through the wreckage until she clambered out in a rather undignified fashion. A moment later, her earpiece crackled. “Alright, I'm back! Now, what's this about a message?” “We have received a transmission from the flotilla that you sent out to find Executioner One. They have found our missing mech.” “God, this is incredibly rude of me, but I'll have to put you on hold again. Tell the Ortalians to initiate Hammerdown.” “Affirmative. Prepare for Hammerdown.” A couple of moments passed before the skies became a swarm of activity as several Ortalian Voidhammers carried out a precision rift jump into the planet's atmosphere – the manoeuvre displaced millions of cubic meters of air, sending smoke and dust scattering. As the huge vessels stabilised themselves, massive bays on their undersides yawning open, each Voidhammer launched four Executioner-class mechs, while heavy landers ponderously descended in their wake, seeking out prime landing sites to unload their battle-ready cargo. With ground-shaking booms, the Executioners landed, their horns blaring as their time came - the time to live up to their namesake. Letting out a low, menacing chuckle, Lieia unclasped the NX-61 rifle from her back, casually striding towards battle, her teeth showing in a maniacal, bloodthirsty grin. The gods of war demanded blood, and she was more than glad to oblige. A burst of plasma washed across her shields and she turned to face her would-be challenger – a three-legged Vasari mech lumbering towards her. The rifle was put back in its place as she leapt at the machine, grappling with one of its limbs. With a roar, Lieia ripped it off, slamming the newly-christened club into its former owner. “STOP HITTING YOURSELF!” WHAM “STOP HITTING YOURSELF!” WHAM “STOP!” WHAM “HITTING!” WHAM “YOURSELF!!!” Letting loose a blood-chilling cackle, she brought her makeshift weapon down on the mech's cockpit – the canopy crumpled like wet cardboard from the monstrous blow and the machine toppled over, its pilot dead. “Fuckin' idiot killed himself. People these days...” Lieia tossed the useless piece of metal aside, smirking cruelly as she grabbed the NX-61 once more, resuming her solitary stride towards the Vasari fortifications. The Vasari commander under Lieia's heel was one arrogant sack of shit, that's for sure, spouting his bullshit about how the Dark Fleet would win in the end. Nonetheless, she was more interested in the contents of the wayward Executioner's message – when she'd initially been informed that only she could access the data, she had hoped to find out something crucial to the war. The way things stood now, well, she was more convinced her crumbling sanity had at long last called quits, in the same manner children would stick their fingers into their ears and chant 'I am not listening' ad infinitum. That thought had been somewhat dissuaded once she'd shared the data with Cara. And then everything was Nicolas Cage and nothing hurt EXCEPT FOR THIS CRUMB-COVERED HARNESS OW Shaking her head, Lieia returned to here and now. “Well, Cara? What do you think?” “I'm thinkin' I shoulda checked whether or not any waterkin spat into my drink before gettin' onboard that dropship. In all seriousness, however... This is important. They ain't got any fleets or orbital defences or anythin'. I can see why good ol' E1 wants to keep this secret. So, whatcha gonna do?” “For starters, I need you to contact Nell-Tiray. I need her to take Deliverance and a small flotilla to this Equestria. I'll have some tea, biscuits and a nice chat with the locals, pick up the Executioner from daycare, and head on back home – simple as that. After all...” With a bit of effort, she crushed the Vasari bastard under her foot, turning him into so much mush. “There's no reasons why I can't be civil about this, right?” “None whatsoever, sis.”