Prologue - Last Flight of the Kepler (Rewrite)
2795 AD – Messier 83 Galaxy
Light shone down upon the slowly dispersing crowd among the shifting, groaning sounds of long overused mechanical parts creaking into motion. An artificial sun, floating overhead, made its way down beyond an artificial horizon, leaving the terrace below bathed in the deepening dusk of the night-cycle that was beginning. Men and women, chatting, discussing and debating, walked the plating of the terrace, some carrying Personal Data Assistants in the form of tempered glass with a reinforced border trim, while others patrolled, security the main thought behind their actions.
As the night-cycle began to progress, various businesses across the artificial terrace began to open. From a noodle shop boasting about ‘the best noodles outside of Tempest III,’ to a small mechanical shop offering a half-off discount on all of last year’s models of automatic torque wrenches. Each man and woman, despite what could have been said about their age, looked barely a day above their mid-30’s, bringing a thought to some about how much their genetic clocks had been altered to do their job.
For most, their uniforms were crisp and clean blue uniforms with red shoulders, the symbol of their ship of allegiance emblazoned brightly on their right sleeves. A few were wearing the various styles found around the galaxy, while others were more casual, wearing old Earth polo shirts and cargo shorts. Coffee, doughnuts and mirth was aplenty, though many stopped to admire the plaque that adorned the main terrace’s walkway. For a few, it was just a plaque, a reminder of an event long past. To others, it was their home, the very ground upon which they walked.
“’The Terran Colony Conveyor Kepler, launched by the Terran Colonial Exploration Authority this day of the 27th of August, 2702, last of the Wyvern-class. Built on the Martian Driveyards and christened by Admiral James A. Callum.’ Wish I could have met him.”
“You and me both, sir. He died shortly after her launch.”
“’Callum’s Last Launch.’ There’s a painting in the database like that, isn’t there?” Two men stood in front of the plaque, holding steaming mugs of synth-brew coffee, real beans near impossible to get without dedicating entire decks of a ship to growing the ever-needed substance. They raised their mugs in honour of the ship, drinking deeply before looking around.
“Lieutenant, go enjoy yourself. It’s our 40th anniversary of the rebranding of the Kepler as a Battle Fortress. Hell, it’s when we got the new equipment, too!”
“Aye, Commander. I’ll be sure not to celebrate too much.” The commander, a tall yet rotund man with greying, thin hair and hard, piercing blue eyes, smiled as he watched his subordinate go and join the crew already dancing and cheering. Looking around the deck, he smiled. Forty years of trial and hardship had forged a crew into a family, some with actual families on board. Some had nicknamed them the ‘Generational Fortress,’ though how much of that was true or false was up to interpretation.
The commander, drinking another gulp of the rather bitter substance in his mug, let his eyes wash over the deck below. Elevators dotted the outer edges, leading to the various areas of the ship, from engineering to the medical deck. Even the battle control suites, rooms dedicated to large control stations for combat scenarios, were accessible from the area. Sliding his free hand over his right side, he withdrew a PDA, tapping on it to bring up exterior details. The massive bevel-edged box that made up the main profile of the Kepler was indicative of Terran colonial design, the engineers behind it realizing how much was needed for successful colonization. Rounded protrusions near the rear, on both the upper and lower sections, boasted high heat ratings, the engine clusters more powerful than a Fortress of her size could realistically run under normal circumstances.
Glancing back over to the celebrations, he watched battalion leaders and wing commanders dance and laugh until his PDA began to beep, rapidly. Lifting it up, his mug dropped from his hand as he turned towards the nearest elevator and bolted. The PDA fell from his hand as a massive notice across it stated a message that, for many vessels and crews, signalled a massive oversight, that message simply reading ‘Off Course.’
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“What the hell do you mean, we’re ‘off course?’ You said you checked the numbers, so how the hell are we that off-course?!” The commander stared down his navigator, a sleek, chrome-shelled Sentient Integrated Program android, or SIP, his eyes almost boring holes through the metallic synth-skin of its face. Warning messages were blazing across screens on the vessel’s Command Bridge as the ship shuddered, something wrong in other portions of the ship.
“I apologize, commander. I was not aware that we had even shifted from our course until I did a diagnostic and re-checked the previous drift calculations. However, something else has taken my attention. The planet we are nearing, it is a virgin world, untouched by any industry, and has higher selenium ratings than even the most developed industrial planets. Unfortunately-”
An alarm rang out from a nearby console, turning the SIP navigator’s attention from its commander to several consoles ringing out new data. Multiple telemetries had been mapped, as well as some startling information. The SIP’s glowing eyes danced from one console to the next, the processing faster than any organic being could comprehend. Each new alert was quickly answered as it checked, each new strand of data a fantastical new thread of inquiry. The commander, however, was not as interested in data as he was about what the issue was.
“Unit-3, what the hell is it? What’s wrong?!”
With a simple glance, the SIP looked up, only to return its gaze to the consoles it currently commanded. An emotion that the commander had only seen once before flashed across its synth-skin, chilling the others present on the bridge. It was scared, and that could only mean one thing.
“Commander, we will reach our projected destination at designation P3X-292 within eleven galactic day-cycles. The... unfortunate news I have to give you is that another Fortress is en route. The Dawnbreaker. They are, as you have said, a ‘pet of the Committee.’ They will also arrive as we do, meaning that we have 11 cycles to prepare the crew. I recommend an immediate sounding of General Quarters, and for the Kepler to begin immediate shift from travel to combat configuration.” Unit-3 glanced across several workstations, pushing other command staff aside as it attempted to relegate necessary tasks throughout the ship. “The Dawnbreaker is notorious for some of their underhanded tactics; I will remain here and continue research to determine an effective course of action.”
As Unit-3 silenced itself and continued to work, one of the older members of the command crew, an officer with a commanding presence himself, sighed as he ran his hand through his short, graying hair, his thick moustache twitching as he spoke. As his rough Old Russian accent came through, everyone stopped chatting, working whilst he spoke.
“Commander, I think we should wait six of those cycles to run drills to keep crew on their toes, yes? Many of our crew have not seen proper battle, and the Dawnbreaker might try boarding action. We need to be ready, yes?”
“Zabrazna, I respect your input, and honestly, I agree. Too many of our number are a bit... under-prepared for such an undertaking. Get your best men, and have them begin training. Unit-3, send out the call for General Quarters. I want everyone in match mode – we’re going to make this one for the ages!”
With that statement, the commander lifted himself from his seat, planting his feet as he returned to the elevator he had taken to rise to the Command Bridge. The consoles around the rounded area became crowded as the call came through, multiple off-duty officers barely exiting the lift and putting on their uniforms hurriedly as the commander shuffled past them, sighing as he looked down at a PDA he had snatched from one of them.
Looking up at the ceiling of the elevator’s pod, he spoke clearly and loudly, making certain the elevator’s computer understood his statement.
“Computer, Cloning Labs.”
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The lift shuddered as it came to a halt, the old machinery creaking as the commander exited the pod that had been repurposed to serve as an elevator car years before. His eyes wandered around, noticing all the equipment scattered around. Every time he travelled down to the Labs, it took his breath away, just their sheer size and magnitude. Tubes covered two decks worth of walkways, the area above consumed by the massive twisting cables and piping necessary to run such a facility. Connectors ran from the base of many of the tubes, joined to holographic readouts that displayed important attributes, such as current status, growth abnormalities, and even the genetic candidate the sample used came from.
The head scientist, an older woman greying in her twilight years, was fast asleep, a pamphlet on proper cleaning procedure for wounds open across her face as she snored. A chime echoed, startling her from her position. Rolling backwards, she tumbled out of her seat, her face at knee level as the Commander walked up, shaking his head as she tried to collect herself.
“S-Sir! I was only resting my eyes... is there a reason you’re down here sir?”
The commander was silent, running his hand over the closest tube. Bubbles floated up inside the growth acceleration gel, or GAG, as it had come to be called by many, the gel simply sitting there waiting for a command signal to help begin replication of cells. He turned around, holding out a hand to help up the scientist as she straightened her clothing. Taking the hand, she stood quickly, returning to several readouts, tapping symbols across the various holographic displays and retrieving new information.
“Needed to come down here. A commander does need to be present among his or her crew, and I was also curious about the status of the Labs. Information such as current operable status, any maintenance issues, the boring, mundane and mandatory items, you know-”
The display of the closest tube beeped as the colour changed to a calm green, indicating the presence of injected genetic samples ready for replication. As he watched, blood, plasma and various other materials were shunted from storage capsules into the gel, a small fetus developing as an artificial umbilical began to form between it and the machine. It always fascinated him to watch the process of quick-cloning, but he never saw the start normally.
“Commander?”
“Will they be ready in time? The match between us and-” A beeping PDA on the head scientist’s workstation drew both of their attentions, blinking with an incoming message, text only. Watching her raise it up and begin to read, the commander snatched it, checking it himself. The data stamp was correct, the authorization marking it from the War Games Committee. Apparently a threat had popped up in regards to the Kepler, and they were currently investigating it.
“Sir, what is-”
“Something about a potential threat to the Fortress. The information’s... off, almost like-”
As he mused about the details of the threat, a new message was broadcast across all the screens and various displays in the Labs, the message reading the same no matter which screen it was on. Confirmation reports began to flood in across the PDA he held, all hands stating that the message was on everything. The sheer amount of control that would entail would mean that either someone had broken in through the Committee’s unfortunate coding backdoor left in every Fortress to allow for near-instantaneous communication, or something else much worse was occurring.
“’Due to allegations that your crew utilizes Neuro-Atomization Weaponry, your next battle is regrettably your final battle. Your emergency communications array has been located and disabled, as well as your main communications. Prove us wrong, Commander.’”
The tension in the Labs was palpable, as the head scientist’s many assistants crowded nearby, making sure she was okay as the Commander leaned against a nearby console, his hands shaking. The Committee could be considered heartless at times, but to accuse them of using weaponry long forbidden by the Rattigan Accords of 2462, that was almost unthinkable. Neuro-atomizer weaponry was barely understood, and most samples of it outside of museum display were destroyed upon discovery as per the Accords. The fact that they were using an alleged violation to create a Kobayashi Maru out of something that would have been difficult anyways, he did not like it.
“Sir, what does that mean? What does it mean that we’re being accused of using that weaponry?”
“It means we’ve stepped on toes in the Committee. They don’t like any Fortress being more successful than any of their pets, and we just defeated one of their lapdogs. Dammit! This happened to the Halcyon, the Osiris, even the Nirrti! All of them accused of similar violations just so they could sic their attack Fortress on them without repercussions! Damn them all! The Nirrti was almost at her decommission age, too!”
Gripping the PDA tightly, the commander wordlessly hurled it at the nearby wall, watching the glass shards spark and collide with the ground, breathing deeply as he stared at the scorch mark on the wall. Kneeling down, he looked at the glass, the pattern across the wall from the scorching, and the frame scattered near the doorway.
“Sir?”
“Alert everyone. Something is going to happen very soon. Could be sabotage, could be a boarding action, but we need our Clone Guards up and running immediately! That is not a drill, sailor!” The commander glared at the still-frozen scientist, scowling before he starting shouting again. “On the current timetable!”
The scientist in question scrambled for the nearest console, entering their confirmation code into the waiting machinery and standing back. Multiple tubes began to light up, their systems coming online as lighting along each catwalk blinked into action, each light illuminating more and more. Genetic sequences jumped across screens as the most appropriate genomes were selected, the injection of material samples, the gel reacting quickly as the clones began to grow faster and faster. Cells divided, limbs, organs, bones and skin forming, each part growing faster and uniformly as the gel did its job. Eyes filled out the sockets as muscles flexed in the tubes, the ingrained muscle memory being implanted in part to the computer shocking the muscles slightly to grow them into an effectively strong setup. Within fourteen seconds, twelve fully-grown and massive soldiers emerged from their tubes, each staring blankly as their pupil-devoid eyes stared directly ahead, an arm descending and slamming a small, spiked chip into the rear of each of their heads. With a jolt, the new Clone Guards raised their heads, each one extending a proper salute before they turned in unison to march away, presumably to the Engineering department for armour and weapons.
Watching them march away, the Commander sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even with them making their way to engineering to be armed and armoured, it would still take a miracle, no, an act of God himself, to help them get through the match unscathed.
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The Engineering Deck was almost the exact opposite of the Cloning Labs, parts and machinery strewn across the major through-ways as Clone Guards marched past, the Commander ducking as parts of what remained of a firearm were tossed past him, the clanging and grinding eliciting a bout of cursing and vaguely directed insults as a bald, heavy-set Scottish man stood up from underneath a pile of scrap, pointing directly at his assistants across the deck and hurling parts at them.
“You pack o’ gobshites! That is a pressure release valve! What I asked for was a bloody plasma coolant shunt pipe!” A large conduit was tossed over to the assistants, the scared individuals dodging out of the way as the Commander ducked past another lower mechanical arm, coming face-to-face with his Chief of Engineering, sighing as the latter individual grunted, lifting up a conduit and smiling.
“Aye, that’ll do- oh, Commander! ‘Tis a good time you showed up! We’re doing what we can, finishin’ up some o’ the wee things, however, that match... it don’t sit right with me. Our main factories are running like the devil ‘imself was chasin’ ‘em. Thinkin’ of using some of our old designs, the old rifles we started this whole thing with.”
“The old UEC Rifles? The RK-3G?”
“Aye, that’s the ones. Kinetic Rifles reliable enough to survive even having a blade-arm stabbed through them. Magnetically assisted trajectory lock, with a sequence of coils in the barrel to give the rounds just that much more punch. Would’a liked some o’ the new rifles, the RK-3J, but they’re non-surplus, so...” The Chief trailed off, staring over at some of the Clone Guards beginning a quick test-fire at the temporary shooting range that some of his assistants had set up. He was chuckling until one of the rifles unloaded itself, ripping through the Clone Guard and tearing some new holes in the wall behind the Chief and the Commander. Rising from his position on the deck plating, the Commander released the breath he did not know he was holding, his eyes wide as he looked from the gooey remains of the Clone Guard to the holes in the wall.
“Still having the ammunition issue?”
“Not like that, Commander! Somethin’ ‘bout this planet, it changes properties of the propellant. The rounds are so much more powerful, but... they run the risk of explodin’ a Clone much more severely than before. Considerin’ Clone Guards are just barely Type Two clones, they don’t have much... cohesion,” the Chief finished, sighing as he glanced over at the puddle currently being cleaned up by Pipe-and-Wires, small little robots that were always on every Fortress, maintenance constructs that would keep a ship running as best as she could. The Commander raised an eyebrow as the little ‘bots disappeared into a square opening in the wall, leaving only the damaged rifle behind. The Chief, breathing slowly, slowly made his way over, lifting and examining the rifle. Without so much as a word, he tossed the rifle to the side, hearing it clatter and slide into a nearby Materials Grinder, a long set of grinding gears and tearing blades meant to rip apart scrap and broken materials and devices to shunt it into various recycling chutes.
“So... I can assume I don’t have to explain what we’re up against. Considering how picky you’re being, you know exactly who we’re fighting.”
“By the amount of munitions and armour bein’ requested, it’s Titan-class. And from the reaction of the crew, it’d have to be one o’ the biggest bastards out there. That would make it the Dawnbreaker, wouldn’t it?”
The Commander sighed, rubbing his eyes and covering his mouth as he looked around. He gave his Chief a little too much leeway, but his Chief always came through. He was stronger than he looked, but that strength and intelligence did come at the cost of the Chief being close enough to a declaration of lunacy and insanity. It made him chuckle, thinking of the amounts of times his Chief had saved his sorry ass on some of the stations they had visited.
“Remember Nexus, Chief?”
“When you and I fist-fought the cyborg kidnappers who tried t’ take Helen? Ah, them’s the times I remember the most. But... the report I saw was that we were bein’ accused of usin’ neuron-annihilation weaponry? The Rattigan Accords-”
“Mean nothing to the Committee. They love to fabricate and create reasons to remove anything that might threaten them, or, you know, have the potential to defeat the Fortress they want to be the ultimate winner.”
The Chief and the Commander both fell silent, staring at the ground until the Commander’s wrist began to beep rapidly. Lifting up his wrist close, he tapped quickly, a small hologram lifting up from the brace secured to his arm.
“And just remember, Chief! Just because you’re the best, that doesn’t mean I won’t commit you, you ridiculous lunatic!”
“Aye! We’ll be ready for everythin’, sir! Oi, you shitters! When did I say you could be sittin’ around like spineless cowards! Back t’ work, the lot o’ ya!” Laughing, the Commander turned back to his brace, letting the hologram coalesce into the visage of his science officer, a younger woman with a shave head, cybernetics clear on the rear of her skull. Lights blinked as she tapped various surfaces to activate the voice portion of the hologram.
“Is it working? Yeah... yeah? I’m broadcasting? Where’s the symbol- oh, that red light is the ‘broadcasting live’ light? Okay! Commander? I’ve been trying to reach your communicator for around twenty minutes now! You were on the lifts, which means comms blackout, as you know, but we’ve got you on radio now.”
Stepping off to the side, the Commander attempted to lower his voice as he began to speak, lowering the volume on his communicator brace, trying to make sure no one else would hear him over the Engineering Deck’s machinery. Sighing, he turned back to the hologram, his face drawn in a tight frown.
“Okay. We’re safe to talk. What’s the situation, Lieutenant?” His eyes could have sworn the hologram flickered for a slight minute, as if something had just interrupted the feed. He narrowed his eyes as his science officer froze in place, flickering before the hologram stabilized again.
“Unit-3 detected it while disseminating combat directives, but we’ve got hostile intrusion into our main database. Looks like someone introduced it through a recent communication. We’re looking into the extent of it, but it doesn’t look good.”
“Tell me, Lieutenant. I’m the commander of this Fortress, and sugarcoating bad news will not do you any favours.”
The hologram froze again as it flickered to a new readout, a technical rendition of how the hacker must have entered into the system. The recent message, the warning from the Committee, had brought along with it some kind of carrier ping, allowing whoever transmitted the virus currently infecting their systems to jump in through the Committee’s dedicated backdoor in any Battle Fortress. Pinching his nose, the Commander pinched his fingers together over the hologram, expanding it and zooming in to see the exact systems infected. Feeling his knees suddenly grow weak, he found a hand stabilizing him as the Chief put his arm around the Commander’s waist.
“The hack, a Trojan virus of rather spectacular design, piggybacked off of the carrier ping from the Committee. So far, the only purpose it has is to infect our internal defences. This... this basically means that we’ll be unable to repel any sort of boarding action, and our internal turrets might activate and fire upon any target they see, not differentiating between friend or foe!” The Commander turned to sit on a nearby makeshift bench, welded together from various scrap parts. His head buried in his hands, he racked his brain for any similar situations until it clicked. Tapping the buttons on his communicator brace, he brought up the information for the Wyvern-class Fortress Nirrti. Sure enough, there were all the telltale markers, from the hack carried in on a Committee ‘warning,’ to random systems malfunctioning, and even their communications cut like theirs was. It was a repeat of history, but he was not willing to let whoever had caused the situation to get away with it. Such a hack would have needed someone to receive it and activate its code, if he was remembering his cyberwarfare training correctly.
“All right. I’ll return to the bridge shortly, but I need to check with the Chief – he might be able to make more sense of this than either of us can.” Turning off the hologram, he turned to the Chief, his face pale and his pupils pinpricks. The Chief, kneeling, gritted his teeth and pursed his lips as he looked around the deck, grabbing a small sidearm and handing it to the Commander.
“Look, sir. We’re dealing with someone beyond the capabilities we expected. If they think they can get one o’er on me, though, they’re just a damn scunner, then. I’ll keep an eye out, and keep checking diagnostics. There’s a traitor onboard, and we can’t let them take us out this easily.”
“Chief, I’m counting on you. Whoever they are, I’m going to shoot them myself. I know hacks like this are always attempted, but this kind of destructive coding? This is a deliberate attempt at destroying us before we even begin the match! I’m going back to the Command Bridge. Keep me posted on whatever you find.”
The Chief saluted as the Commander left, looking around as he felt his face scowl, and his cheeks heat up. Horrendous tactics were something the Dawnbreaker was notorious for, but this was beyond even them. The Commander needed information, and no one could get information better than he and his assistants. Waving one of them over to him, he lifted a PDA, handing it over.
“All right. We got us a traitor on board. Need you to go to the antenna cluster and check all incoming and outgoing communications. Might be a trace we can find. Get going, ya gobshite!” Breathing deeply, he began to wonder how he would even approach the Commander if he discovered who was responsible.
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His grimace having become a deep, angry scowl, the Commander silently walked from the elevator to his seat on the bridge. As he sat down, he let himself calm down ever so slightly, his scowl somewhat subsiding to resemble more of an annoyed frown. His science officer, still at her station, turned, nodded and returned to work, her fingers flying over various symbols and keys as her face become taut with focus, her eyes locked on her consoles. His second officer, nodding as well, turned to his consoles and stood with practised precision as he began to correlate various reports from stations across the ship. Even other officers returned to their duties without even a word of acknowledgement, silent commands being passed between gazes.
Unit-3 stared at each individual, the confusion crossing its synth-skin as it attempted to process the exchanges that were not happening, narrowing its eyes before it started to muse on the correlation of the current situation and how it affected the inter-personal communication. Unfortunately, though, no data could present itself as to stress vs nonverbal attitudes. Instead, it sat at a loss for once, unable to understand the current situation without proper input.
“Commander? You have not spoken since you returned, but the Lieutenant has acknowledged what she needs to do, and even Zabrazna has acknowledged some kind of unsaid orders. Why is thehre no speech, no conversation between you and the others, but you all understand what is being said? What remains unspoken that needs to be unsaid?” Unit-3 watched as the Commander gripped the edges of his chair’s armrests, unresponsive to the question, but beginning to tighten his grip more and more as the silence on the Command Bridge became almost deafening.
Unit-3 stared at everyone, his gaze washing over the various crew members. His optical sensors registered elevated heart rate common with anger and determination, two human values not often seen alone. Pupil movement was barely registering, and even the palms of many of the male Command officers were registering as moist, confirming that they were sweating partially. His processors were going into overdrive when he noticed motion to his right, the Lieutenant waving him over hurriedly. With a silent march, he walked to her position, leaning in as she began to speak quietly and steadily.
“Unit-3, we’ve been hacked. Came in on the Committee’s official carrier band, meaning whoever was transmitting the virus was waiting for someone on this end to accept the virus and disseminate it. You’re safe due to how isolated you are from internal systems, but I have to command you to use a function I know very few of us want you to use. We will need you to copy the Fortress’ artificial intelligence into your systems. I know you won’t understand as to why this has to happen, but we don’t have a lot of time-”
“But, Lieutenant, without the Commander’s orders-”
“Just do it, okay? I don’t have enough time to explain, and we have barely any time left. We’re going up against the biggest challenge we have yet, and we’re going to have to fight to the very end.” She finished her sentence by slowly rubbing the sidearm strapped to her leg, ending with her tightening the straps as she began to stare almost off in no direction in particular, her expression tightening into an emotion that Unit-3 was not familiar with. As she continued to stare, he stepped back, letting his wireless connection to the ship open for the first time in a long time, entering the commands to allow him access to all AI subroutines and data files. His chassis locked up, every illuminated portion of him spreading a rainbow-like colour across them. His optical sensors blinked multiple times, each time transferring hues to a new one as the download continued.
“Artificial Intelligence backup operation... 24 percent complete...”
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The Commander stared at his wall, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the forty years of marks across it, each one in a black marker that he kept stashed in his desk. Seven days they had been running drills, practising accuracy, simulating boarding actions. Seven days his crew had been re-training themselves, and falling short. With the projected loss of life, he chuckled dryly, withdrawing a red permanent marker from his nearest drawer, slowly and surely drawing a thick red line below the most recent mark, the forty year mark.
Forty years since they had become a crew, forty years since they had all promised to fight for the New Earth Coalition. Forty years since the Coalition had last ever spoken to them. It felt fitting to him to mark the last days of the Kepler with a red marker. He doubted the wall would survive, but he silently prayed that it would, to make sure whoever found the vessel would understand how long he had commanded a single vessel. Most Fortresses had support fleets, but he and his crew found it easier to move faster without having to wait for the drives of smaller vessels to charge. How fitting, then, was it that they would fight to the last alone.
“Seven days. Seven days we’ve been practising... four more days before our twenty-fifth hour, and we’re nowhere close to being ready...” The Commander trailed off as he rubbed his face with his hands, sighing in resignation as he returned his marker to its place in his desk. He breathed slowly, bringing himself some measure of calm as he stared up at his ceiling once more, the dull plating of the unpainted repair-patches an unfortunate shade of tension-raising dark grey.
Tensions were running high on the crew, as reports had begun flooding in. While he had instructed, very clearly, after that first day, that no one besides Command Personnel was to know about the viral hack, and that someone had hacked them, someone had instead disseminated all information in regards to it to the entire crew. Three of the last seven days had been spent defusing arguments, preventing violence and keeping tempers calm. A good dozen of his crew sat in separate cells inside the Brig because they had refused to stop quarrelling when Ship Security had informed them of what their actions would entail.
A mirror on his desk reflected the state he felt himself in. While he looked not a day above forty, he was instead feeling more like his age, his bones creaking and aching with the amount of stress he felt throughout himself. Lines indicating passing time were across the entire room, a way he kept himself sane as he marked the passage of time. When he was a strapping young commander in his twenties, he felt like he could have taken on the Committee itself, and he nearly did, but now he felt his age, despite the Rejuvenation treatments he had undergone over the years. Each shot was supposed to give ten or so years back, but they had diminishing returns the more they were used.
A beeping from his door’s lock brought him back to reality as he stumbled and fell out of his chair. Quickly standing and fixing his uniform, he moved to the door, punching in his personal code. As the door hissed open, his eyes locked with Unit-3’s optics, the latter staring with strong intent as he stepped past without a word.
“Come in, I guess. What’s wrong, Unit-3?”
“Commander, as you are no doubt aware, the crew’s anxiety is at a breaking point. Since someone on the crew, most likely one of the officers on the Command Bridge, deigned it necessary to leak every portion of information we had about the potential hacker. Various members of the crew have volunteered to take a shuttle to the Dawnbreaker and ‘take them down from the inside.’ My attempts at dissuading them from such an action and reminding them their duty is to the defence of the ship first fell on deaf ears-” Unit-3 stopped as the Commander lifted his hand, the motion meaning to shut up. Shaking his head, the Commander turned to the marks crossing every spare surface they could, almost an obsession that he would no longer have to worry about soon. Sighing and chuckling, he straightened his uniform, tightening his face as he turned around again to the SIP.
“We need to get to the Command Bridge, then. It’s been about fifteen years since I made any sort of public address, and maybe it’s high time I changed that.”
Unit-3 stepped to the side, letting the Commander through before he scanned each individual line. Each line was significant, each one drawn ever so slightly differently, but each one indicative of the length of time between their first launch and the final match that rapidly approached. Turning to the Commander, Unit-3 was surprised to find himself, itself, the merged AI still unstable in his and its head, alone, the Commander having already walked off towards the nearest elevator.
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“There’s no way she can possibly be on our side! The viral dissemination came from her console! She’s in league with the Dawnbreaker!”
The Commander stepped over the lip of the lift’s pod, his eyes narrowing as one of his officers was holding a charged sidearm at the science officer’s face. Her cybernetics looked damaged in some fashion, while the other officer was being restrained by Zabrazna and two other tactical officers. As he stepped forward, all anyone could hear was the audible charging noise of a heavy pistol beginning its spin-up sequence for the coils in the barrel. Levelling the handgun, he aimed directly at either officer, slowly moving between them.
“So, we’re now accusing each other of leaking it?”
“Sir, her console showed the receiving code for the viral infection! It was routed through her terminal, you have to believe me! Chief sent me up here, trying to-”
“Did he send you up with proof?” The officer topped for a minute, realizing just what was going on. Whatever he said would reflect on the Chief, and the expression on his face spoke volumes about just how confused he was. The Commander’s expression was dark, the rage visible on his face. Each muscle was tensed, from the smallest in the shoulder to the largest in his legs. Each fibre of his being felt ready to strike, a feeling he had not received in years.
“N-no, sir. He told me to come up here and ‘take care of the traitor.’”
“Commander, I’ve told you before! That paranoid lunatic is going to get us all killed! For all we know-”
“I will not have my crew members antagonizing each other! We are tense enough as it is, and we do not need this to turn into a shooting match, Lieutenant! Do I make myself clear?!” The hand pointing at her, all fingers in one direction, was enough to give her pause, the Commanders voice clear and concise. He would not tolerate any further hostilities between crew members, and he would not tolerate anyone causing problems for anyone else, including false accusations. With a sigh, she holstered her own sidearm, standing to the side as the Commander stepped between her and the Chief’s assistant. Looking between the two, he motioned to Zabrazna and his tactical officers. The Lieutenant smiled as she was lifted by two other tactical officers, something about the way she smiled unnerving everyone else on the Command Bridge.
“Commander-”
“Take them to the Brig, Zabrazna. I will not tolerate any activity like this on my ship. We are a family, but committing such actions threatens to tear our family apart! Maybe watching the ship fall apart around them might give them some idea of who the hell is in charge!”
Turning to the other officers on the bridge as the assistant and the Lieutenant were taken away, he sighed, placing his hands on the railing surrounding the upper portion of the rounded area from the lower. The station heads all had their section, higher up where they could observe everything, while his own Command Staff all had their own consoles. The rounded nature with the threadbare carpet made it feel like home, but at the moment, it felt more enclosed, more like a prison.
“We have four days left, ladies and gentlemen! Once we make the transition into Realspace, we should be able to shift directly into proper offensive mode. We cannot run it while in the midst of a void-jump, but we can be ready, by God. We cannot take any chances; this does happen to be the Committee’s lapdog we are up against. Every single person here knows their duty, and you know you will be called upon to give your lives, same as me. With the large compliment the Dawnbreaker boasts, and the admittedly massive advantage they have over us when it comes to the amount of schematics they possess compared to us, we do not have a choice! If we win, we elevate ourselves above the grinders who come in every day! It’s either win and become the greatest Fortress to ever fight among this galaxy’s stars, or fail and die like the others before us!”
After his speech, the crew stood from their stations, cheering and clapping. The Commander, respectfully drained after his angered outburst that fueled his speech, fell backwards into his command seat, feeling the lumbar reinforcement soften to cushion the blow. He covered his face with his hands, not making any noise before readjusting himself in his chair, standing up and breathing deeply. He latticed his fingers, crossing them while he thought. Without a warning, he stared at his communications officer, the man in control slightly startled.
“S-Sir?”
“It’s our time, isn’t it? I need to broadcast on the ship-wide communications band. Lock in every communicator, every store radio. I want everyone to hear this, no matter where they are.”
With an audible ping, the communications officer gave a thumbs-up to the Commander, pursing his lips as he kept his hands on his console, monitoring audio levels. Breathing deeply, the Commander let himself calm down, his eyes narrowing and closing before he let himself feel the emotions he was feeling. Waves of rage, sorrow, anger, annoyance and pride, pride in his crew, in the family that had been built over so long.
“You’re live, Commander. Make it good,” the communications officer stated, letting the Commander open his eyes and give a slight thumbs up before starting into a speech that he had practised in case of such an eventuality. With another deep breath, he began to speak, the baritone of his voice echoing across terraces and throughout shops. Members of the crew that had been walking around had simply stopped to listen, the measured breathing of their Commander capturing their interest and focus.
“It has been fifteen years since I last spoke to you this way. It has even been forty years since we all became a crew. We were younger once, more reckless and arrogant. Forty years we have been fighting, both winning and losing. And now, as you are all aware, the Committee wants to take our history from us. They want us to be the villain that they send the valiant Fortress after to ‘vanquish.’ It’s a narrative we have seen time and time again, with our sister Fortresses. For all of your sakes, if you had any doubt before, let me remove those doubts.
Everything you’ve been told is the absolute truth.”
Murmurs of shock, tension and pain began to rumble throughout the crew as more members stopped to listen to the Commander speak. Food stalls stopped as their leader acknowledged their long fight, as he spoke about the Dawnbreaker and how it felt. Many dropped their forks into their various foods, their faces slack with literal shock as they could not process what was being said. It was almost as if the Commander had spoken complete gibberish, but they could understand it all. Even more than that, the fact that it was completely true was enough to make many of them angry, their rage beginning to fuel an outrage before the Commander continued.
“Will we let them send us into the black unchecked? Will we lie down and let ourselves die? If any of you decide that is the case, you are more than welcome to report yourself to the transport section and ask for passage to the nearest planet. This is our last battle, our last flight. We will not let them take us quietly into the night like the Commander of a Nibiru-class Fortress, are we? We will stand together as one, and if it must be this way, we will die together. As family, as friends! We are the crew of the Kepler! Never give up! Never surrender!”
With that final statement, cheering erupted throughout the vessel, even through the tempered glass tube of the elevator shaft. In contrast, however, his Command Staff stood in silent resignation, the silent message of knowing one’s end passing between every individual onboard the vessel. Even Zabrazna was silent for once, the normally boisterous man biting his lip in his silence, unsure of how to respond. The mood was tense, and the worry was palpable, like fog hanging in the air. As the Commander turned to leave, sighing as he rubbed his forehead.
“Whatever is necessary sir, whatever needs doing, go do it. We’ll make sure everything is ready before you return.”
Silently nodding in Zabrazna’s direction, the Commander entered the elevator pod once more, leaving to go down to the main deck. Something in his gut told him that something would not be pleasant down there.
--------//|0|\\--------
The report of rifles was clearly heard from the pod the Commander found himself in, the sound of shells clattering to the deck plating an unfamiliar cacophony, even to his ears. Crew members stood at a hastily-assembled firing range, the staccato of the firearms like a discordant symphony. Magazines were quickly dropped as they were emptied, some of the crew more proficient at their weapon of choice than others.
Kinetic rifles, coilguns, and even some old shotgun models were arrayed around the area, a single revolver laying on the end of one of the weaponry tables, barely even touched. Some of the crew pointed out the Commander as he stopped in front of the six-cylinder handgun, lifting it for inspection. Each part of the weapon had been oiled meticulously, and it was already loaded as well. Lifting the revolver to arm’s length, he stabilized with his free hand and closed his right eye. A swift motion of his hands, aiming dead-on one of the targets that had been set up, and he squeezed the trigger, a single round piercing center-of-mass on the first target. Re-adjust, aim, squeeze, fire. Four more times the motion was repeated, and four more times the rounds found home, leaving distinctive holes blown out the back of the targets.
“Still got it, sir. Not like many of them could hold a candle to some of us.”
The sergeant in charge, a lithe, younger man with tanned skin, wavy brown hair and piercing grey eyes, smiled as the Commander acknowledged him, nodding as the latter took a seat next to him on a bench that had been set up nearby. They watched silently as several crew members tossed their firearms on the ground, frustrated at being unable to hit even a small target. Chuckling, the Sergeant passed a bottle over to the Commander, letting him drink deeply of the freshly-processed water before sitting up again.
“I see what you mean.”
“Some of them have never even fired any weapon before, much less held one. If the Dawnbreaker were to attack now, we would be hard-pressed to have any ability to fight back. Our chances are quite low.”
“They do seem like they assume victory is assured.” With a cough, the Commander stood, his expression taut and reserved. The discipline of his own crew was severely lacking, and he was mentally kicking himself that he had not ever noticed it before. Some of them were attempting to fire off their weapons as if it was a simulator, wondering why they could not ‘tele-grab’ magazines from the table into their weapon. It was a poor display, and he could fully understand why the Sergeant was so annoyed with them.
“Commander, in all seriousness, if they get their act together, and actually learn to concentrate instead of trying to make everything about personal glory, maybe we can continue to survive. Not win a battle or even a single match, but survive what’s coming for us.”
With that statement, the Commander rubbed the back of his head, realizing that some things unsaid would be needing more words than he had given them before. That thought in mind, he returned to the elevators yet again, sighing as he asked for the lift to go to the Detention Deck.
--------//|0|\\--------
“It’s not like you care, engineer.”
“Don’t talk to me, traitor. All of engineering knows-”
The assistant’s sentence was cut off as a loud beeping issued forth from speakers in their cells. The Commander, walking in with a scowl, looked at both of his subordinates. His expression told them that words were not something he was accepting of.
Glancing over at the guard, he nodded towards the Lieutenant’s cell, watching her smile fade as she came face-to-face with the tightly-pursed lips of her commanding officer. Without a word, he turned to leave, the science officer matching step as he returned to the elevator, stopping to let her get in beside him.
“Computer, Residential Deck, Port Terrace.”
“Commander... John...”
“You endangered our mission, Kate. You had something pass through your console, and did not report it. I’ve vouched for you on too many occasions, and you make me look like a fucking dumbass when you act like you’ve got it all figured out. That’s the last time I stick my neck out for you.”
The science officer, Kate, rubbed her shaved head, feeling her fingers tap over her cybernetics. The elevator’s pod silently swished inside its tube, the dark inside an incredibly chilling sight. It was bad enough that the commander, John, was angry with her, but she felt that she had no idea what was going on anymore. She thought she had logged and marked the files appropriately, but she had no recollection in a portion of her memory.
“John...”
“Kate, I would prefer you call me Commander. It is polite to talk to your commanding officer that way.”
“What about us, then, John? Am I supposed to forget the last fifteen years?”
“Computer, stop the pod.”
With a sudden halt, the elevator pod slid to a stop, letting Kate topple herself as she stared up at John. John narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively hovering near his sidearm. Kate chuckled, watching him shake badly, like a newly-minted recruit fresh out of basic training. It was almost adorable in a way, but a part of her registered that she was, in fact, in real danger.
“John, what are you doing?”
“There is no us, Lieutenant. There is what we were, and what we are now. You gave me no choice. You decided up on the Command Bridge that antagonizing other officers of the crew were more important than your damn job. Computer, resume journey.”
The ride continued in silence as Kate sat still, her head in her hands as she contemplated what John had said. On the one hand, he had been right about what she had done, how unprofessional it was. On the other hand, she felt he was trying to keep her safe or something along those lines, but she could not be sure. Feeling the elevator come to a crawl, she stood up, looking out at the approaching terrace. Personal ‘quarters,’ more prefabricated colonist huts fashioned in different styles than actual homes, dotted the Residential District, while a particular noodle shop nestled between two paperback stores, an uncommon sight, piqued her interest.
“This is...”
“Where we first met. Where I lost... all of that below.”
“The plasma field burst. There was... so much blood-”
“All I care about now is my duties to this Fortress and to her crew. This conversation is over now. I suggest you find a new hobby, since you will not be allowed on the Command Bridge until after the match is complete. I don’t care what you say, but you endanger the lives of this crew, of the families on board this Fortress that are in my direct charge, I will not hesitate in my actions. You are relieved of duty. Good. Day.” With that final statement, the Commander turned on his heel, walking away with a heated expression on his face. Kate always made his head fuzzy, unable to concentrate, and anything that would jeopardize his position was removed.
However, the expression she had was far from innocent. A malicious grin crossed her face, something far removed from her normal facial expressions. Something about her seemed off, but though passersby saw the face, they could not place as to why it seemed wrong. It was just something, and a few people began to take notice.
“Sure thing... sir. Wouldn’t want to hurt your chances of losing, would I?”
--------//|0|\\--------
Four days passed by almost in the blink of an eye, several thousand rounds of ammunition expended by the training regimen in their attempt to give the crew a fighting chance against the Dawnbreaker. Even the Engineering section had been churning out new tools and defences, new manned emplacements dotting new checkpoints along chokepoint routes throughout the vessel.
The groaning of metal and aging mechanisms filled the Fortress with the sound of what appeared to be an elephant dying, many of the Engineering teams deployed throughout the Fortress having to perform some instances of percussive maintenance. Some old conduits sprung leaks, quarantining entire sections of the Kepler due to the coolant spilling out like a tidal wave. Many were trapped, barely able to escape before a coolant shunt had been created to bypass the damaged sections.
The Command Bridge remained silent, despite Kate’s attempts to return to her former duties. It seemed like she had not understood a single thing that had been said to her, and consequently had been confined to her quarters. John, staring down at the console in front of him, watched the planet come into view, a verdant, perfectly untouched, beautiful orb of a world that did not register any signs of habitation of most civilizations. It appeared to be uninhabited, so few life readings above a sentient level that it was deemed unnecessary to check for more.
“All Candidates to the Cloning Labs. New genetic samples need to be taken.”
“How many candidates do we have left to use?”
“Sir, twenty candidates still remain with stable enough genome sequences to allow for appropriate clone generation. Engineering reports that personnel and materials are ready.”
Silently thanking the ability of his crew to work quickly under pressure, the Commander began to flip through various blueprints available to the Kepler. Her databanks may have not been as robust as a majority of the Battle Fortresses in operation, but what was there was better than most would expect. Slowly walking over to his communications officer, John sighed as he looked at the various cameras. Various exoskeletons with varying load-outs were loaded into large drop pods, the drop bays filling up with materials and equipment.
“Switch cameras. I want to see the launch bays.”
With a couple of finger taps, the launch bays were brought into focus, new lines of armoured and armed clones standing at attention in their formations, the massive launch bays filling up to capacity as their forces prepared, a wave of motion passing through each assembled battalion as an inspector walked past each one, examining the reaction time of each generic clone. The almost emotionless faces would be covered with helmets, though John reminded himself that their emotionless faces were a major reason as to why the turnover rate of the Cloning Labs was so high, and why so many requested transfers after only a month. Helmets were passed between the differing battalions, each different style of helm designating the differing trades each clone would be assigned to down below as the spot where they would be introduced to the last battle of their lives was in the process of being prepared.
“Incoming drive signals. Looks like the Committee sent the Rods, sir.”
An external sensor was tuned and targeted towards incoming drive signatures, massive pylons burning like rocket-propelled javelins towards the planet below, each rod bristling with powerful landscape generation and terraforming bays, the massive nano-technology tanks stored deep within each bristling with elemental nanites ready to transform one type of planet to another, though the arena normally chosen was a circle of the rods, creating a massive round battleground. The signal emanating from each Rod appeared to be designating the arena as a ‘Badlands’ map, where cracked ground, flowing sand and strange rock formations were the key to strategic deployment.
A rumbling that shook the observation camera startled John, causing him to suck in sharply before he saw the vehicles rolling in. Combat Jeeps, M5 Battle Tanks, and even a couple of heavy battle-suits, massive exoskeletons with armour and weaponry that would make a gun nut go crazy, they lined up just like the clones near them, taking extra caution not to roll over any. The growth gel was a finite resource, and they did not have any ability to replenish the amount they had used in preparation. It was a sore point for much of the scientific staff that had joined the crew, but generating enough gel to properly replenish their stores required an actual bio-genesis factory, not the basic facilities onboard most Fortresses. Transports, massive dropships capable of incredible lifting feats, were being loaded carefully with the vehicles, the clones themselves organizing near labelled ‘man-cannons,’ electromagnetic rail-guns that were primed to fire cushioned pods at the planets surface, reinforcing whatever forces they deployed.
“Sir? Something is happening in the Cloning Labs.”
--------//|0|\\--------
“Fire in Cloning Labs area. All emergency personnel respond. Fire in the Cloning Labs. Emergency personnel and repair crews to the Cloning Labs.”
The situation in the Labs was far less pleasant than on the Command Bridge, an electrical fire that sparked starting to burn through cables and conduit alike. The head scientist dove out of the way of part of the catwalk coming down, trying to make certain that everyone who was in the Labs was evacuated. Several generic clones were directing her subordinates away from the Cloning portion of the labs, but the Neural Link Amplifier was still active, meaning that three of her Candidates were connected and active.
“Someone get that fire out! Jenkins, grab that medical kit and go help the wounded! Anderson, tell me how the hell we sparked a fire that bad!”
“Ma’am! The spark was due to a short in one of the pods! It appears to be some sort of sabotage, as gel was found in an area impossible for it to get into without help!” Anderson, one of her assistants, stood at a console, flashing between screens to double check each and every alert coming their way. It looked like the links of the Candidates ‘Red Fist,’ ‘Blue Falcon,’ and ‘Green Hornet’ were all connected and ready, their brainwaves at the level of humans who were in a dreaming, fugue state. The Amplifier itself was massive, covering almost the height of two decks as the head scientist let her hand glide over the pod’s opaque shielding, wondering what they were thinking while they waited to connect with clones that were more or less almost identical to them. The generated Avatars, all boasting Amplifier connection implants to facilitate more in-depth control, were registered and logged, locked inside specially designed drop pods deep in the bowels of the underbelly of the Kepler. She was excited for how they would perform, but was also slightly saddened to see her special ‘creations’ go. It was like watching children you’ve only just met leave your life to never return.
“Godspeed, John. Godspeed, Candidates. ‘Let the ground burn where you walk, and let our enemies gnash their teeth as you rain brimstone upon them.’”
“Another ship is nearby. Callsign: Dawnbreaker.”
--------//|0|\\--------
On the surface below, beneath the gathering clouds and the strange weather patterns, life was more peaceful than the vessels barely visible from the planet below. Life bustled along, quadripedal beings trotting, cantering and walking around as they bartered, beckoned and greeted each other fondly. Market stalls boasting all kinds of products, from a ‘magical’ elixir to cure all your ails to a local food stand selling out of their best dandelion-based confection. Travellers of all shapes and sizes browsed between each individual vendor, some dealing travel provisions to the weary for a pretty penny, others offering varying services. A tailor here, an identification service for those with potential magical items, even a small fortune-teller’s tent was pitched in the busy squarer of the hamlet.
However, two larger quadripeds, their manes glowing and blowing in the wind, looked more annoyed as they looked at the beings before them. The two venerable sisters stood above them all, a banner flapping in the light breeze. It felt like they had been placed on a pedestal, and the younger of the two felt less impressive as she stood there, staring at each and every traveller that waltzed past. A celebration was forming around them as the creatures around them slowed their bartering and purchasing, realizing that their leaders were standing before them.
“Dear sister Celestia, dost thou not see the plight of this fair hamlet, their poor position made apparent to us this day? Thou must surely have seen the signs, the coming storms, the strange portents made real in the skies above. Skies that you and I doth control,” one sister observed, her coat as blue as the darkest night observed, her very mane filled with stars as it flowed in an unobserved wind. Various species joined the celebratory crowd, moving to and fro as her older, but not necessarily wiser, sister concerned herself more with parchment and quill, deciding on how various items would get delivered to the hamlet’s main square, all manner of business appropriated within the plaza they found themselves stood it.
“Luna, does not your nattering bother you? It gets on my nerves, but since this celebration is to commemorate our triumph over the Lord of Chaos, Discord, I can let it go... for now. Our subjects are... we are here for them and...” Celestia trailed off as something massive entered the air above them, the sound barrier breaking with a massive blast of concentrated sound. Her eyes were drawn skywards, as were Luna’s, their pupils shrinking as massive pylons, devices of unknown origin and intent, simply dropped from the sky, impaling themselves in the dirt and rock of the settlement. Lush trees and jungle around the edge was simply crushed into splinters and sawdust, the clouds of damaged tree parts launched far and wide by the shockwave of the impact. Each impact after the first one they witnessed increased the power of each aftershock, windows shattering and parts of walls simply losing their cohesion and tearing themselves apart. Glass rained down on hapless villagers, barely protected by a protective field cast over them by Luna, the horn in her head radiating power and rippling with energy.
The villagers began to take notice of the pylons, grabbing loved ones and panicking as if it was the end of the world. Some began to take charge, attempting to direct the others outside of the hamlet, but it was too little in the face of the oncoming disaster. As they continued, a shadow began to pass overhead, one of the pylons simply passing in front of the sun. In the distance, each pylon that had already completed its descent began to shimmer with energy, a translucent wall of power linking between each one as they became energized with something beyond what the sisters were familiar with.
“Celestia, sister! We must leave! Help me! We must help everyone escape!”
Twin flashes of light shone between the two of them, small glowing motes transforming to lines as a hole opened in the air, a portal to elsewhere in their lands. Without even a small amount of hesitation, the populace began tossing themselves through the portal, the pylon slowing as it reached a position directly above. A sound of something breaking the sound barrier echoed and boomed throughout what remained of the nearby forest, shattering far more foliage and rendering many of the hamlet’s structures as little more than rubble.
“I do believe we’ve outstayed our welcome, Luna! Through the portal, now!”
With two quick motions, Celestia lifted her sister, tossing her and jumping through before the shockwave from the pylon above descending hit them. As the portal closed, a single quadriped stepped slowly out, shaking his head as he stared up at the sky. The pylon continued to descend, rendering a grin of pure madness on the quadriped’s face as he began to laugh.
“Rods from the gods! They’re rods from the-” Before his statement could even finish, the final pylon impacted, ending what little his life had left as the pylon burrowed deep into the earth below, no trace of the former hamlet remaining as the rippling fields of energy connected, cutting off the area from the rest of the planet. As the pylons finished settling, clouds of grey ‘dust’ emerged from each of the pylons, the terrain of the jungle becoming far less hospitable as the ‘dust’ changed whatever it touched. Dirt to sand, undergrowth to rocks and potential rock formations, and even the trees were transformed into dead remains of what they once were. The sisters floated above one of the pylons, staring down as badlands stretched from each of the strange pylons, the sight terrifying as they witnessed it.
“The... the Everfree Forest... sister?”
“There is nothing we can do. It is now the Everfree Desert, Luna. Our duty is now to our people. Come.”
--------//|0|\\--------
Crimson lancing beams of powerful energy jumped between the two Fortresses, the Kepler doing everything in her power to keep active despite the heavy barrage of the Dawnbreaker. John stared at his console, waiting for the battlefield to finish forming, before he pressed a button, switching his map to a far more controlled tactical view. From his end, a smaller rendition of the terraforming pylons impacted the ground, a beacon rising up displaying the approximate location of the safe drop zone for his ‘production’ facilities, which were less production facilities and more facsimiles of actual structures, merely being locations to send down reinforcements to. A percentage ticked up until it was complete, sending a signal that dropped six ‘structures’ from the Kepler. Each module was more-or-less a modified Prefabricated Colony Module, each one for specific purposes. Two supported the infantry that were to be deployed, the maximum ‘control’ amount limited by the modules they could use.
Four more modules followed, deploying for vehicles and experimental creations, and even a place where, should they so deign, a researcher could happily create new formulas and materials. However, such a task was nothing if not impossible during the battle that would commence. Pressing two other symbols, John brought up three camera feeds from drop pods that had been loaded and prepped for launching.
“This is Tactical. Go for call-sign check-in.”
“Call-sign Blue Falcon, reporting.”
“This is Red Fist, reporting.”
“Call-sign Green Hornet, reporting.”
Vitals monitors linked to his station began to blink into existence on the holographic readouts, beeping until they linked up with the suits they wore down in the Amplifier, their heart rates and brain-wave patterns at nominal activation levels. With the three Clone Avatars properly on the readouts, and their suit cameras properly synchronized to the console and their eyes steeled for combat. John stopped before he was about to give the fireteam the go ahead to launch their pods when one of the Engineering assistants arrived, handing him a suit of freshly-printed battle armour, thick enough to stop enough rounds, but never thick enough to protect him from the wrath of Kate.
Boots thudded against metal plating as John looked up, tightening down the armour as several uniformed soldiers entered the bridge, the troopers taking positions around all possible entry points into the Fortress’ Command Bridge. Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at his console.
“All anti-boarding squads are in position, Commander.”
“Good, good. All right. Fireteam Alpha, lock and load. You’re dropping in 3... 2... 1...”
--------//|0|\\--------
With a sudden rush and loss of air, the three Avatars felt the gravity of the planet below as their pods stabilized, the trajectory set. Green could not communicate, but looking up at the Fortress, he could see the transports beginning to disembark from the massive vessel, clone drop pods speeding past them as the initial forces were deployed.
“Looks like a damnable hornet’s nest up there.” With a bemused look, Green stared up, watching drones exit from the hull of the Fortress to reinforce the dropship transports, the cargo inside more valuable than any transport vessel could make in a single galactic standard month. Small puffs of explosions peppered the drone support teams, leaving little to the imagination that seeker missiles were in play, meaning that if they did not break atmosphere soon, they would not be breaking atmosphere at all.
Interceptors dived past, some chasing down the clone drop pods as hundred more were launched, the Kepler’s own interception craft screaming past at almost breakneck speeds. Green checked his suit cameras, seeing the calm face of Blue and the angry scowl of Red as they passed the upper cloud layer, their automatic shielding more effective in atmosphere than in vacuum. Blue shimmering around the windows of the drop pod signalled that the atmospheric shell of the automatic shielding had come online, reducing the red burning light of the entry sequence to a much more mild purple. The battlefield came into view, small specks denoting clone battalions forming, Green narrowing his eyes as he scanned the terrain. So much was obscured by reflection off the sand, but he could make out several good locations for them to land their pods.
“This is Green Hornet. Blue, Red, sending you quick coordinates. See that dune? We hit there, we won’t end up like Centauri Prime. Don’t want to see you two kill your Avatars on bedrock again.”
“It was one time, Green! Twenty years ago! You never shut up about that!”
With a chuckle, Green deployed his braking flaps, feeling the sudden jolt of gravity that normally came with such a strong motion. Looking out his pod’s windows, he watched Red and Blue do the same, the others disappearing from view as they shot up and slowed down, manoeuvring towards the dune in question. Four hundred, three hundred, two hundred, and Green felt the impact as he slammed directly into the dune, the front hatch of his pod jettisoning him as he blinked at the bright sun.
“Fuck! Like hitting my face on the pavement on Tempest IV!”
“Calm down, Red, it’s not that bad.”
“’Not that bad?’ Blue, I hit a building on Tempest IV, was shunted out of my pod, and landed face-first on the pavement! I don’t think it could get worse than that!”
Green held up a hand, lifting his basic rifle from its alcove on the pod, scanning the area. Red and Blue followed suit, making certain the others were covered before moving into close proximity with Green. Pods landed, transports disgorged their offensive cargo, and clones arranged themselves according to their programming and assigned destructive loadouts, from basic automatic rifles to heavy, experimental particle weaponry, the likes of which would not be seen beyond the scope they were used in.
“Commander, Red Fist reporting. Drop was a complete success. Synchronizing battle-net with command network... now.” Red, Blue and Green slowly chuckled as the battle-maps on their Heads Up Displays began to rapidly update, friendly icons displaying in green and opposition icons theoretically displaying as red. As more clones landed and took up positions, the three of them aimed at each other, calibrating the cameras attached to their rifles.
“Green, camera synchronized.”
“Blue, camera synchronized.”
“Red, camera synchronized. Final preparations ready. Send down the armoury pods.”
From the ground, they could tell that the area around them was barely adequate for defensive measures. Red tapped his helmet, making a small letter A with his fingers. Green and Blue both nodded, leaving Red to his duties. Three icons blinked online, special pylon markers designating Node Alpha, Node Bravo and Node Gamma. Nodding to Green, Blue tapped the side of her helmet, testing her microphone. Red shook his head, shrugging when she motioned to explain.
“All right, Commander. We’ve got basic, defensible areas here, but if they decide that it’s too much trouble to take us head on, we’re looking at artillery units. We don’t have dedicated counter-battery vehicles, so we’ll have to rely on the emplacements.”
Crackling from her helmet radio caused a pause in her step, as Blue looked around, her eyes falling on several small beacon bundles nearby buried in the dirt, her helmet’s identification software displaying them as ‘Structure Drop Beacons.’ It looked like they could hook up to her suit, allowing specific requests. Without even a second thought, she opened a connection between her suit and the beacons, letting her command codes become accepted before even deigning to pick them up. With a sigh, she snapped open one of the bundles, stabbing a beacon into the ground nearby as she began to move cautiously, stabbing beacons into the rock wherever they would be stable.
As soon as she completed her task, her helmet crackled, signals incoming that her armour was in transit and had locked onto her personal transponder. Smiling, she stared up into the air, watching the pod break the sound barrier as it streaked towards the base modules, only popping its air-brakes when it was close enough to slow down without becoming wreckage. A shaking impact, and it anchored itself, an Armoury lifting from the pod’s contents and coming slowly online. With a jump and a short run, Blue stood in front of the Armoury’s selection panel, happily typing in her personal codes to unlock her specialty.
“Defensive Engineer setup selected. Step into the open production entrance, and prepare for combat.”
Without even a second thought, Blue stepped into the awaiting entrance to the Armoury, letting mechanical arms grasp her body as an entire combat suit was welded around her basic combat suit. Electrical muscle attached to hydraulic rams, systems being locked in place quickly before the smooth, freshly-printed armour plating began to lock into place, sealing Blue’s Avatar into the suit that she knew better than anything else she had ever handled. The rather bulky but heavily armoured suit of newly-built powered armour detached from the Armoury, her basic rifle having been exchanged for a much more intimidating-looking Coilgun, the special coils sparking with electricity as they charged up.
“Commander, Blue Falcon. I’m in my suit, ready to call down defences whenever Red captures Node Alpha,” she reported, letting her HUD reboot and lock into the new pattern ID being broadcast from her upgraded suit. As she watched her HUD come back, something appeared on her sensors as a red blip, screaming across the sky, came closer and closer. Hauling up her new Coilgun, Blue aimed, letting the suit handle the target-leading while she prepared to fire. A beeping noise filled her helmet radio, prompting her to fire off a single shot, piercing the opposing enemy air vehicle. The round sheared whatever the vehicle was, the wreckage exploding mid-air.
“Blue, what the hell was that? Looked like a Dart or a-”
“Sparrow. It looked like a Sparrow Scout. Get your ass over to Node Alpha, Red. We’re going to need those siphon credits more than we realized!:”
--------//|0|\\--------
John leaned above the holographic table, his eyes locked onto the icons denoting the three Avatars. True to her normal play, Blue had called down an Armoury to bring out her favourite setup, one of her many Defensive Engineer loadouts. Red was still on the move, having barely even spoken the entire time, while Green had already suited up in one of the Interceptor frames he was so fond of. Icons came online as the modules referencing them did, the Vehicle module displaying Mechanized Battle Armour and Tracked Vehicles. Without hesitation, he tapped the Battle Armour symbol, narrowing his eyes as several armour types were still unavailable.
“Red Fist, we cannot deploy a Battle Armour pod to your location until we have control of Node Alpha. Make that your top priority and- odd.”
“Commander? You said something was odd?”
“You heard me right, Red. They just took Node Gamma, but that makes zero sense. All information about the Dawnbreaker indicated that they would take Node Bravo first, or at least set up some kind of traps at Node Alpha. We’ve got no eyes-on. Green Hornet, this is the Commander.”
“Green Hornet reading you. Recon mission sir?”
John did not respond as he shifted the map, looking at locations broadcast by the battalion leaders, their respective unit compositions marching out for their respective duties. Node Gamma was heavily fortified, though the speed at which they had gotten such defences online made little sense. Despite that thought, he tapped on Green’s map symbol, double-checking the stats as his Avatar pushed the mechanical limits of the Interceptor frame’s top speed, the heavy-duty jet turbines screaming as they hit their max rotational energy.
“Affirmative. Get a clear view, and give us a beacon for a spy satellite to move in. We’ll only have thirty seconds once the satellite goes online, so defend that beacon like your life depends on it because, well, it does.”
Without a word of acknowledgement, Green appeared to rapidly change course, his speed only momentarily slowing before suddenly spiking. From the data streaming in, it appeared that Green was attempting to red-line his suit, or at least get as much use out of the jets before they were either shot off or burned out. Red, on the other hand, was almost directly beside Node Alpha. Enemy signals were beginning to populate the map as Green got to work, his specialty as a Scout impressive and worth every single credit spent on getting good equipment for him to use. From above, it appeared as if everything was under control, until Red tapped into his radio, his voice raspy and strained.
“Commander, you said Gamma was under the enemy’s control, right?”
“That’s affirmative, Red Fist. Why do you ask?”
“I’m seeing piles of dirt that look like someone was digging. There’s no mines showing up on radar, but that could be due to anything. I’m gonna take a shot-” The tell-tale sound of gunfire resounded in the background, an explosion echoing into the distance. “Yeah, they’re mines. Sending up an Armoury request. Offensive Engineer this time. Would love to grab a Rifleman setup, but we don’t want our favourite equipment to go up like a light, do we?”
John swiped on the hologram, tapping where the explosion had occurred to land the Armoury pod. An Estimated Time of Arrival loaded up on his console, displaying when the pod would impact. With his other hand, he tapped two of the smaller tank divisions, motioning with his hand to direct them over to Node Alpha as reinforcements for Red Fist. The same was done for two marksman platoons, the forces displaying their specific ETAs above their division and platoon icons. Glancing down at his main control strip, where several symbols were blinking, he saw that Blue Falcon was sending in a request, several defensive beacons having been impacted into the ground.
“Commander, Blue Falcon. We don’t have enough for Defender emplacements, but do we have the ability to bring down Gatling Laser emplacements? Since Red was right about the mines, we might be looking at a lot more competent Avatars than we’ve faced in the past, and that means we need to have fast-tracking defensive measures online. Beacon requests are inbound.”
“Affirmative, Blue Falcon. I see the requests. ETA four minutes. Red Fist, your Armoury request has impacted. Grab your gear and get cracking.”
“Acknowledged. Blue out.”
“Red Fist acknowledges. Out.”
Rubbing his forehead, he glanced around the room. A little voice in the back of his head made him a little scared due to the fact that the Dawnbreaker had been clubbing at them with their bruisers of main guns, but no sort of boarding parties had been launched, all reports about them telling about their horrifying boarding attacks. Something was far from being okay, and he was worried. He felt his hand close around his sidearm, but he knew how scared he was, how scared everyone else was. The amount of death they had seen over the years was nothing to scoff at, but it still made him nervous.
“I hope they’re doing okay down there.”
--------//|0|\\--------
“Gamma... Gamma... Blue, you got any theories why the Dawnbreaker went after Gamma first- oh, we’ve got control. Alpha’s ours.”
“Good thing, too. We’re running low on our ‘funding.’ Hopefully we can keep control of Alpha. And about Gamma – that’s not a node I would even consider going for. It’s too far out of the way, and how this battlefield was set up, it’s hard to take over or control. It’s in a pit, too.”
“Gotcha,” Red intoned under his breath. Cursing himself as quietly as he could, he lifted his Assault Cannon, a revolving, repeating autocannon that was a personal favourite. His own personal design was accepted as a good blueprint by their commander, and most of the clones fielded with automatic cannon-based weaponry were fielded with a Red Fury in their capable hands. The Dawnbreaker was being sneaky, and he hated when people were sneaky. Gamma was the lowest ‘resource rate’ Node on almost every battlefield, but the very fact that they took over that Node first meant they had much higher starting credits than expected.
Shaking his head in an attempt to remove such thoughts from his head, he glanced down at his wrist, his jaw going slack at the sheer amount of resources being siphoned into the Kepler’s coffers. It was easily forty or fifty percent higher than any other battlefield, and the flow was immense. Liquid Selenium, used in all projects larger than a simple Exoskeleton suit like he was wearing, was worth more than most precious metals for what it could to for battleship-grade steel alloys.
“Commander, are you reading the flow rates? This is beyond anything I’ve ever seen! I saw what Unit-3 was saying, but the actual rates are ridiculous! The data is saying that beneath these sands, the selenium flows like liquid rivers!” Looking out across the battlefield, he stared out at the remaining enemy mines, taking potshots to pierce the ground and take them out. As they exploded, he tapped his own Request Transmitter, calling down his own mines and laying them out in much tighter patterns. For him, offensive engineering was fun, but he always had his part to play; Blue was always stuck back at base and Green was... well, Green existed.
“Red Fist, we’re reading those flow rates. The rate of credit flow would make it so that Node Gamma was producing at the rate of a normal battlefield’s Node Alpha or Node Bravo. Exercise extreme caution – their units may be experimental, as their own module just came online. Ours is still in progress, but we are loading the Janus Mech prototypes into transports as we speak. Keep them off our backs until it’s ready.”
Red sighed, leaning against his knees. Glancing at his wrist, he sighed. The credit rate was amazing, but it was still the fact that he had to keep everything together or else risk another, extra-long lecture from the commander about his actions. His HUD, displaying Green’s relative position, caused a little pang of panic – he was jetting directly towards a large contingent he could scan in the distance, and there was nothing they could do about it.
“’Exercise extreme caution,’ my ass. Green, check your scopes! Armoured column at your twelve o’clock!”
“Dammit, how- thanks for the heads-up, Red!”
“I might actually lose an Avatar today, but you? I want to keep your average below six this time, Green,” Red finished off with, watching small pods descend from the atmosphere. Mine pods impacted where his HUD displayed their markers, the dog-sized devices expanding into spheres that buried themselves where they could. It was not an easy measurement, but Red assumed that he had gotten it all correct. Checking his scopes, he stared off in the distance, until another voice popped up on the radio.
“Breathing quite heavy there, Red. Something wrong?”
“I’m having some trouble getting a positive ID on the forces coming my way. They’re cloned forces, but what type I’m having trouble discerning. Green?”
“What’s up, asshole?”
“First, only Blue gets to call me that. You heard I need a positive ID?” Red tried narrowing his eyes, wondering what the strange red blinking on some rather bulging suits was. He heard Green sputter on the radio, before his own HUD brought up a positive ID.
“Dammit!”
“Red?”
“Fucking son of a- suicide clones! They’re sending in fucking suicide clones! And I just got the minefield set up!”
Laying down on the platform he was stood upon near the Node, he deployed a weapons stand, linking his firearm with his suit’s HUD, activating a Smart Link. With a quick pull of the trigger, seven rounds went downrange, ripping through the necks of several of the incoming clones, cleaving head from neck as clone bile and gore dribbled out. Another pull, and six more rounds, impacting five more as Red watched a single one simply drop from sight.
“Hey, Blue?”
“What’s up, Red?”
“Think one of ‘em fell in a hole- are you playing a damn guitar right now?”
“I am. You’re at Alpha, usually the most hotly contested Node in all of the Games. There is nothing happening at the base right now.” Red listened to Blue continue to strum, her air of nonchalance a grating noise to the back of his mind. Rotating his resting point, he smiled as he punched a round exchange switch on the side of his autocannon. With a high-velocity round locked in, he sighed, breathing deeply before pulling the trigger once. A yelp from the other side of the radio meant that he had hit his mark, her guitar simply wreckage to be scooped up and recycled in the base module’s Recycler System. Despite all that was happening, a small amount of brevity was like manna from God himself.
“Red! I was playing that!”
“Didn’t even know I could actually hit that. Good shot, too.”
“Guys, radio silence. I think- oh God! They see me!”
Red stared at his HUD as new information came across. Information on the modules of an enemy base were always hard to get in the middle of a combat situation, but Green always came through, and the data was blatantly clear – the Commander of the Dawnbreaker was violating the Code of the Games. Green’s calculations and observation detailed out one, two, three total vehicle modules, a single infantry module, and their special experimental module. Research modules adorned the main base module, their command hub, like gilded, winged statues, statues that would benefit from some kinetic redecoration.
“It’s vehicle-heavy, and- fuck! That’s a Jaeger Super Tank!”
“Green, get the hell-” A single shot heard from across the battlefield signalled to the others that Green’s first Avatar of the match had been obliterated. The map even showed the crater where the tank had demolished him.
“Fuck.”
--------//|0|\\--------
John stared down at his monitors, desperately wanting to slam his head into the tempered glass of his console. Jaeger Super Tanks were nothing short of a miracle of modern engineering, combining specially designed miniature fusion reactors with a Coil Cannon that could benefit from the increased power. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun that could pierce through you, the wall behind you, and fifteen walls behind that one.
His thought process was interrupted by Zabrazna handing him a cup of synth-brew, nodding his head silently as he held his own mug, drinking deeply from the powerfully bitter liquid. John lifted his own mug, lifting it in acknowledgement and downed the mug with a single gulp, sighing as the liquid hit his stomach. Tapping more symbols, he watched as Green Hornet’s new Avatar was brought to the Drop Bay and kitted out with the basic utilities, the map readjusting its timeframe to include the pod dropping from orbit.
“Dammit. That would have been like staring down the barrel of any powerful sidearm that the aliens use. Just... dammit. Zabrazna, how-” The Kepler shook as a powerful strike slammed into the side, some of the officers on the Command Bridge being tossed off their feet as the Kepler moved from her previous position slightly. Reports began to come in of the ship-board defenders also being tossed like rag-dolls, with a few managing to call medical teams for their injured comrades.
“Commander, reading several transports on their way. The enemy is getting ready to either board us or they’re sending reinforcements.”
“Fuck. Just our luck. Keep monitoring the situation until we’re ready to respond.”
“Green Hornet, Avatar 2, away. Impact in three-zero seconds.”
--------//|0|\\--------
For Red, down below on the ground, the calmer story was not his to have. He had seen at least one Jaeger Super wandering around, but it hit the minefield and went up like a small bunker-buster hitting a concrete wall. Rumbling nearby brought his attention to the reinforcements that the commander had sent without him requesting them. Sighing, he pulled out a Local Command Uplink, the screen lighting up with the nearby vehicles. Seeing the Uplink connect with the Fortress’ own Command Broadcast System, he smiled, before his smile dropped. The Uplink was missing a key piece of information, and that would prevent anyone from getting across the field of battle in front of him.
“Hey, Blue? Mind asking the Commander not to send me any more reinforcements for a while?”
“Why’s that, Red?”
“Uh... my minefield are not registering on either my HUD or my Uplink.”
“Where the hell are you?!”
“On top of Node Alpha-” Red was cut off by Green beginning to sing, causing Red to broadcast the clanking from him banging his head on the metal platform he was seated on. Blue’s groans of anguish were familiar when Green began to sing, and it caused Red no amount of murderous urges to remove the offensive singing from the battle-net.
“’All covered with cheese! I forgot where my mines were, they might blow up me!” Green seemed to be pleased with himself, as the camera from his point of view had him looking up at the sky, either meaning he had dropped his helmet or had fallen backwards from his incessant laughter. Red, feeling the rage grow, drew his sidearm, reconsidering before a large round flew past his hand, startling him and causing him to drop it onto the ground below.
“Ah, fuck.”
With a single bounce, a ripple of explosions erupted, spreading out like a wall of fire in front of him. In the distance, several tanks – he counted at least nine – were attempting to back up as quickly as they could, but the explosions ripped through theme before they could escape the blast radius. His HUD popped them up as Lancer Light Tanks, causing Red to shake his head in disbelief before a Jaeger showed up in the distance.
Diving to his stomach, Red returned to his autocannon, lighting up the Jaeger from distance with heavier Armour Piercing rounds, peppering the side until he hit something vital and a massive explosion sent a concussive shockwave towards him, almost knocking him off before he got a grip on the catwalk. Staring past the edge, he looked down, seeing that his autocannon had been blasted off, laying in the bottom of what he assumed was a hole caused by a mine’s detonation.
“Red?”
Without a word, he let go of the catwalk, aiming for the hole and hoping for the best. A heavy impact, and he felt his feet shift in the dirt and sand until he felt his toe touch something metallic and round. A silently worded curse was all he could get off before the mine detonated, sending small portions of charred Avatar pieces all over the place, and leaving the Node almost unprotected as Red waited for the connection on his next Avatar Clone.
“He must have toe-tapped a mine again. At least his was more-or-less his fault. I took a Coil Cannon to the face!”
“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, Green,” Red replied, his Avatar already on its way down towards Node Alpha. He smiled at the fact that he had at least had the sensibleness to drop a Recall Beacon before he turned into mist, meaning he could drop exactly where he had died, bypassing the need to drop at the main base. However, the scanners in his pod were all screaming at him, detecting an absurd quantity of enemy forces. A rough jolt alerted him to the pod redirecting, landing at a safe area some distance from the Node. With a rumble and a shake, Red felt himself get ejected from the pod, rolling down a small sand dune before coming to a stop, his rifle sliding beside him as he stood up.
“Red, they’re taking the Node.”
“Yeah, yeah. I see it. Three enemy units, directly on it. I’m two kilometres out... dammit. Commander, tossing up a request for an Armour Pod. Dragon-class, maybe that Mark Five gear we got. Drop it about a click and a half west of my position. I’ll run through it on my way back to the Node!”
“Request acknowledged. Preparing equipment for drop. Get our Node back, Red Fist.”
Without a word, Red gritted his teeth and bolted, sprinting as hard as he could towards the marked drop site for his resupply request. Jumping over a large natural blockade, stones and rubble from what he assumed was simply just ‘generated terrain,’ he slid to a stop, tapping in his personal command codes to activate the pod’s automatic sequence. Setting down his rifle, he stretched out his arm, letting each piece of the new powered armour lock onto his suit, before a new, heavier weapon was welded onto his right gauntlet. Thruster packs were installed, the new jets burning bright blue as they warmed up.
“Powered Armour Exoskeleton, Dragon Mark Five, online. Combat operations commencing.”
With that message in mind, Red took a couple of tentative steps before locking into a dead sprint, leaping and feeling the jets on his back lock into launch position. A new generator activated, feeding an immense amount of power and fuel into every part of his armour, the jets compensating with higher thrust output. With a smile, he watched the HUD flicker to life, red diamonds populating the faceplate to designate every enemy within range. The red of the armour suited him quite well, but it was not the main part Red loved. Instead, it was the Plasma Thrower attached to his right gauntlet, the weapon that gave the suit its name.
“All right. Let’s do some damage.”
--------//|0|\\--------
Back at the main base area, Blue Falcon was faring far worse than the others. Self-Propelled Infiltration Drone Robots, or SPIDRs, were crawling up and over the defensive structures she had painstakingly called down, letting them set up and link together. The defence turrets were having a hard enough time tracking the person-sized machines, but the sheer amount of them was overwhelming the targeting parameters as they clambered up and over their own fallen comrades.
“Commander, I could use something better than this Flak Shotgun I have! Maybe some kind of armour! That would-”
Before she could finish her thought, a pod impacted nearby, the smooth plating of the new armour making her heart skip a beat. An ion projector, a small weapon designed like a massive steel baton but with ion discharging units along the haft, was locked to one gauntlet, while a powerful Chemical Sprayer was welded to the other. With a smile, she stepped towards it, allowing the Armour Pod the time to lock her into the suit. Heavy plating locked into position as her HUD and weapons came online. Her motorized actuators groaned as they began their first startup, gyroscopic stabilizers rotating into position to prevent her own demise from falling over.
“Powered Armour Exoskeleton, Nephilim Mark Three, sealed and online.”
“Thanks for the present, Commander! Was just wondering what it would to burn these bastards out!” With a happy cheer, she charged the wall, unleashing a gout of flame larger than she would have thought possible, SPIDRs simply melting into slag as she burned and cut, her smile only growing wider as she punched a SPIDR into a shallow crater.
“More SPIDR units on their way! Watch your north and east!”
“Thanks for the heads-up! Red, how are you faring over at Alpha?”
“I could use our friendly neighbourhood scout over here!”
Blue checked her map, locating Green. His symbol was flashing an odd colour, though the icon next to it indicated something along the lines of a Phantom Suit, a light armour design that would allow the wearer to temporarily phase out of the visible spectrum. She prayed he had enough heat sinks and energy cells to maintain it for a while, considering that with it, he was basically unarmed. His position also put him on an overwatch above the Dawnbreaker’s base, ample sight-lines to provide accurate intelligence to everyone else on the battlefield.
Something beside her caught her eye, a shimmering as she glanced, a weird colour of yellow revealing itself as another Clone Avatar saluted, tapping the side of its helmet.
“Sorry! Callsign Yellowjacket. Commander asked me to assist. Where do you need me?”
“You’d better grab some kind of anti-armour rounds or weapon. Red’s gonna need your help more than you realize.”
“Roger that, ma’am!”
Watching the Avatar sprint away to a nearby Armoury, Blue could only shake her head as the other one hefted a small-scale Coil Cannon, priming the weapon before sprinting off towards Node Alpha. A pang in the back of her head told her to let Red know, but she considered it more like a surprise to their comrade. More SPIDRs crossed the wall, bringing her attention back to the defensive notions. Without hesitation, she returned to her previous motions, cutting and melting her way through yet another horde of the damn things.
--------//|0|\\--------
The commander simply shook his head, unable to fully comprehend or grasp what exactly his opponent was doing. The normal tactic for a veteran like himself or the commander of the Dawnbreaker was to focus on gaining Nodes, and then focus on what they could field. Instead, whoever was in command over on the other Fortress was fielding incredible amounts of light, unmanned drones, barely even a threat if one had the right tools.
“Just what on Earth are you planning, you sneaky bastard?”
Another blast rocked the Fortress, the shockwave rumbling through what little of their own Kinetic Field Projectors were still online. Most of the projectors had already burned out, leaving husks as the charged ion blasts impacted and damaged major portions of the hull and the superstructure underneath. Several corridors were even open to hard vacuum, meaning that any potential survivors would be dead within minutes anyways. It pained him to make the call, but he knew he had to do it.
However, reports were coming in that the Dawnbreaker’s transports were beginning to use wreckage and debris as protection, and were beginning to land forces in those sealed off sections. With a sigh, he tapped the new fourth Avatar on the field, Agent Yellowjacket. They had tested positive in all the Amplifier tests, but how they would operate on the field was another matter. From what it appeared, they were moving as quickly as possible with a man-pack Coil Cannon, something he had only seen a former crewmate by the name of Rex do. Shaking his head, he slapped his cheeks, trying to keep himself focused. His eyes wafted over to Red Fist’s position, and began to widen in fear.
Red was almost completely surrounded.
--------//|0|\\--------
“Tanks, tanks, tanks! They have to have hit their maximum command! Because how many can one have? Apparently not enough!”
Red’s own situation was becoming far more untenable the more he attempted to keep his position, having replaced his Plasma Thrower, now a scorched, slagged mess on the ground, with another Autocannon. Rounds spat out as fast as he could reload, but the sheer amount of enemy forces pushing their way past into the valley just beyond his minefields was mind-boggling, almost scary in a fashion. Before he could fire again, a hand lifted him up, setting him to the side.
“Callsign Yellowjacket. You needed some assistance?”
“Yes! Take that big weapon of yours and unload it at that tank column!”
Red attempted to brace himself, but whatever Yellowjacket had loaded their Coil Cannon with, it created such a massive air displacement that it was becoming difficult just to stay on his feet. Each resounding blast was followed by what sounded like lightning cracking, though it was only the sound barrier attempting to reset every time they fired. One blast destabilized the catwalk Red stood on, sending him tumbling down to the ground face first as his Autocannon fell with him. Twisting as he fell, he snapped a cable from his belt around the main control handle of his weapon, dragging it close to drop it more carefully. With a heavy thud, and a small imprint of himself in the dirt, he glanced up, looking around for Yellowjacket.
“Sorry, sir! You might want to start running, too! We don’t have a lot of time anymore!”
“The fuck do you- oh, shi-”
As Red looked up, he not only watched a shadow cross over him, he felt it, the sheer size making his body shiver in fear as his eyes traced the six-legged form of a massive Tick Tank, the insectoid Experimental blotting out the sun. His armour began rapidly beeping, warning him of the firepower differences between the two, but he was frozen, watching as the massive legs grew closer and closer. As one leg came above him, he witnessed a blast echo from somewhere, a powerful explosion ripping off a massive chunk of the leg’s armour.
“Sir, I did say run! Get your ass out of-”
Without waiting for them to finish the sentence, a section of plating sloughed off the Tick, flattening Red’s Avatar with no warning. Sighing, they turned, glancing back as swearing echoed through their earpiece, Red attempting to connect to another Avatar without much success.
“I did say run, you dumbass.”
--------//|0|\\--------
The Kepler itself was faring far worse than the commander had expected. His own officers had welded the Command Bridge’s elevator access shut, activating emergency procedures to disable all elevator travel as they prepared to fight back. The situation on the ground was even worse, as the Tick Tank rampaged through any forces that he attempted to fight back with. Every indication displayed was that it was a standard variant, but the firepower deployed was anything but standard. It felt, to him, like he was throwing pebbles at a tidal wave in an attempt to make it go away.
“Sir, we’ve lost two more sections. Zabrazna just reported that some of the defenders are actively deserting their positions. Here’s a local-loop feed.”
The display was even worse than John had expected. Zabrazna was standing with a heavy autocannon, casings clattering against the ground in the camera’s audio. A figure walked behind him, the bald head and cybernetics causing a realization, John’s stomach dropping as it dawned on him who it was.
“For every one of us that falls, ten more shall take their place!” Zabrazna held his ground as well as he could, the old officer stronger than any others believed he could be. Kate prepared herself as she let her hand slide down to her holstered sidearm, slowly drawing it out as a smile crossed her face, sinister and incredibly unlike her. Her head was blinking rapidly, indicating some kind of incoming signal, but it was not a pattern John recognized. Zabrazna stopped for a moment to turn and look at her, still firing as he stood there looking at her.
“Sir.”
“Kate? Are you all right, is everything- wait, you were the one who-”
John could only watch in horror as Kate’s sidearm discharged, a crimson beam of energy piercing through Zabrazna’s chest and tagging the wall behind him. It was beyond horrific, though something about her motions nudged his own memories. She walked almost like a first-timer piloting a Clone Avatar – stiff, slow and deliberate, like remote-controlling a machine. Sighing, he covered his face in his hands as he activated the ship-wide broadcast, cuing it to individual communicators instead of the ship-wide personnel address system.
“All hands. I don’t know who is still alive, who is dead, or who has betrayed us now. All that I know is that we’ve several sections now. Fall back to secondary defensive positions, and re-arm. That is an order!”
Tapping the communications to turn off the ship-wide, he shook his head, the situation abysmally poor. Internal sensors were offline, meaning that they were effectively blind as to how many of the Dawnbreaker’s Special Operations forces were scattered throughout the Kepler. A beeping from his console indicated that Red was launching yet another Avatar. Every attempt to communicate was met with silence, communications unable to establish a transmission lock. Breathing deeply, he sat down, staring at the hologram while enemy forces swarmed the last bastion of defence the Kepler had on the surface.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Vasili...”
--------//|0|\\--------
Red’s Avatar screamed into the atmosphere, the launch area overcharged to deliver him as fast as he could. With a flick of his wrist, the pod exploded apart, dropping him into free-fall as he tried to regain control of his descent. Another pod, an Armoury, floated close to him, matching speeds until he could grab the safety hand-holds. Grasping and dragging himself on, he smashed the control for emergency deployment, the pod deploying a massive knight-like Mechanized Battle Suit, the armour opening like an interconnected suit of Old Earth power armour.
“Free-fall Deployment online, Paladin-type Mechanized Battlesuit online. Orbital drop operations commencing.”
“Blue, Green, I’m in free-fall. Can you give me a safe place to land?”
“Red, the fuck?”
“Yeah, I’m with Green! You’re not good at orbital insertions!”
Before Red could respond, his suit’s operating system warmed up and indicated his actual velocity. With a short breath and closing of his eyes, he began to scream, the suit locking up as it displayed his terminal velocity. His HUD displayed Blue and Green’s locations, both of them scrambling to get to his indicated zone, the speed at which he fell almost guaranteed to destroy the Paladin suit he was in. The jets were not responding, and even his free-fall parachute was not deploying.
“Dammit! Red, you know those aren’t cheap! Blue, get a plasma drill!”
With a heavy crackling noise, Red crashed into the mountain closest to the Kepler’s main base, the Paladin suit denoting that it was just barely effective, but he was encased in solid rock, and required an excavation tool for retrieval. Sighing, he resigned himself to his fate until he heard the tell-tale noise of boiling rock as a plasma jet streaked past him, his HUD unable to compensate for the magnetic nature of the rock he found himself in. As the rock melted, his suit regained its uplink to the Fortress, and the information was bad. There was not much of an opposition on their side anymore, and it was just a losing battle at that point.
“Yeah, we got you! Try pushing yourself out, we got you...” Green trailed off as he slammed into the ground, whatever connection he had having been forcibly disrupted and shut down, Blue soon following suit as Red felt the tell-tale disconnection hitting him as well. With a sigh, he stared at the rock in front of his visor, closing his eyes and forcefully disconnecting himself before the Amplifier did it for him. The darkness followed suit as he felt himself snap back, breathing deep as he opened his eyes and looked around.
“Situation’s worse than we thought, Red. You’re team lead, what’s the call?”
Kicking open the lid to his Amplifier pod, Red stood up quickly, snatching up a rifle from a nearby cart as he checked the area, waving to Blue to indicate she was clear to get Green from his pod. As Red continued to look around, he heard grunting, a weird zapping noise, and a heavy clunk as he turned to find Green stuck to the ceiling, and Blue hanging off of him. Shaking his head, he aimed for the plating above Green and fired a single shot, knocking him free and chuckling as he looked at the doorway to the Amplifier room. Yellowjacket lay in her pod, a small hole indicating that someone had shot through the pod’s lid, killing her instantly. It was beyond inhumane, but from what he heard, the Dawnbreaker’s crew and Clone Avatars had no such inklings of honour.
“We go to war, Blue.”
“Yeah, sure, but that’s not a rally point. Where. Are. We. Going.”
“Oh, right. Probably Main Terrace. Come on!”
--------//|0|\\--------
On the Command Bridge, the situation was not as dire as some sections, but the images on the consoles were. Dawnbreaker SpecOps entered every room they could, clearing each room as they passed. Unarmed civilians lay dead among the brass on the floor, not a single person spared from the room-to-room slaughter they were committing. Some had attempted to use the ventilation system to escape, but they were suddenly given more breathing holes than they knew what to do with, the enemy peppering every shaft they could with as many rounds as they could muster. The walls were splashed with red and what was left of some of the dead and dying, screams of panic fading into silence as suppressed firearms spat their rounds. Some people were picked up and given uniforms, normal individuals that seemed to walk like machines, like they were not entirely in control. Each one met turned on their immediate former comrades and splattered them like old soup against a wall. It made John sick to his stomach to see his crew reduced to nothing more than puppets to the enemy, but something drew his attention.
“Commander... something’s on the other side of the elevator door.”
“What do you-”
Interrupting him, a heavy slamming echoed throughout the suddenly silent Command Bridge, a fist shape appearing in the reinforced metal of the elevator access. Several officers dove for cover as they readied their rifles, taking careful aim as even John levelled a Coilgun at the doorway. The welds began to creak as the punching continued, several officers shaking as they watched what must have felt like a horror movie to them. Impact after impact, the welds strained until they could not hold any more against the tirade of punching, folding open as a shape stood in the doorway.
“Hold your aim! Ready, and- hold your fire, it’s Unit-3!”
Unit-3 stepped over the sill, the pod it exited from a quarter of a metre down from where it normally would stop. Dragging behind it five individuals, it tossed each one in turn, letting their bound forms wriggle to their knees and attempt at least a sitting position. The final person t tossed in was sputtering and cursing, attempting to reason and speak without much success. John stared down at her, the Kepler’s uniform still visible underneath the SpecOps uniform she wore.
“Commander, I discovered these traitors on my patrol route below. Your former science officer is-”
“Commander, what the hell is going on? I was-”
“You were not being spoken to. You are not a member of the crew, you are a deserter and a traitor. These five were attempting to sabotage one of the main energy conduits that powers the Life Support for the Command Bridge.”
John stood, his face drawn and tight as he stared down, feeling his age creep up on him as he kicked aside the other four and dragged Kate to a nearby chair. Forcing her to sit, he squatted in front of her, staring at her face while he narrowed his eyes. Everything indicated she was back to normal, but she had also killed Zabrazna in cold blood, and that was unacceptable. Sighing, he grabbed a sidearm from one of his officers, checking the setting and making certain it was charged. Turning back around, he stared at Kate, realizing something about her demeanour was off again.
“Poor old Commander John. Too stupid to realize when he’s been had. That’s right, the Committee gave us the network access to ‘infect’ not only your vessel, but also your crew. Too bad you’re too late.”
Kate stood up stiffly, something sizzling through the bindings as her hands warmed up and whatever covering they were sheathed in bubbling apart. Before she could jump at John, two shots rang out, but not from his handgun. Instead, all eyes were drawn to Unit-3, who stood stiffly at attention, a sidearm procured from another smoking in its hand. Two holes were neatly through the head and the torso, some kind of black ooze flowing out, almost like the oil used in machines. Lowering its arm, Unit-3 stared at the doorway and breathed deeply, a trait it had not possessed earlier, but indicated something had changed.
“Commander, the download of the shipboard artificial intelligence has concluded as ordered. Neural Link Amplifier has been disabled and disconnected from main vessel operation, and I am prepared to engage the Emergency Evacuation Teleport system on your orders,” Unit-3 stated, its voice still somewhat monotone even after copying the entire artificial intelligence into its systems. John nodded, glancing over at his other officers. Pointing towards the door, he leaned against a wall, sliding down to the ground as he smiled. The Kepler was on her last legs, and he could feel the creaking as she began to lose her orbit, the ground below becoming their ‘lithobraking’ zone.
“Do it. If you don’t, no one will know of what we sacrificed here.”
Unit-3 did not verbally respond, simply nodding and stepping over to the elevator pod. With a sharp salute and a weird-sounding grunt of effort, it kicked into the bottom of the pod, cracking a hole open large enough for it. Drawing its sidearm, it dropped through the hole, the stale air whistling as it shot through like a hot knife through butter.
--------//|0|\\--------
Beeping echoed through the empty corridors, the former Fortress’ crew dead among the corpses of those that laid them to rest. The scanner held in Unit-3’s hands denoted a problematic incident in Engineering that would prevent the EET from activating once it was primed. The main fusion reactor had been breached, and a majority of the coolant for the auxiliary fusion plants had begun to vent due to a reprogrammed coolant recycler. Glancing up, its eyes locked onto several of the Dawnbreaker’s SpecOps soldiers, its aim far faster than theirs. Rounds pinged off its battle-chassis, the armour too thick to penetrate with standard rounds. Unit-3 noted in a memo inside its databanks that the enemy must have realized they were ineffective with small arms, as one of the others was levelling some form of rocket-based launcher at its chassis. The individual’s compatriots attempted to restrain the operator from firing the weapon, but to no avail, as the rocket shot well and true, and missed Unit-3 to unfortunately blow a hole in the side of the Kepler. The SpecOps soldiers simply vanished out the hole, Unit-3 magnetizing its feet to remain rooted to the vessel.
“Unit-3 passing through observation corridor. Enemies have dealt with themselves.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“A rocket-propelled explosive created an explosive vacuum event and they became unfortunate astronauts outside the vessel. Moving to main habitation-” Unit-3 stopped as three soldiers rounded the corner in front of it, the armour recognizable for Fireteam Alpha, the most prominent team of Avatar Commanders onboard the Kepler. Waving its hand, it summoned them over. Red whistled on the radio, chuckling as he looked at the hole.
“You’d think that they’d realize a missile in an external corridor is basically a death sentence if you don’t have a vacuum suit or magnet-boots. How’s it going, Unit-3?”
“It is unfortunate. A system needs repairs before I can activated the Emergency Evacuation Teleport.”
“We’ll come with you then-”
“No.”
Lifting the scanner and motioning to it, Unit-3 pointed at the direction it was going in, and pointed at the direction it had came from. Radiation spikes were emanating from where the fireteam had just been, while where Unit-3 had come from was relatively radiation-free, despite the open hole to space. Shaking its head, it pointed back behind itself, letting the others walk past.
“If you stayed, the radiation would cook you inside and out like a human-shaped sausage. It is an agonizing death according to the database. I must go alone. Do your duty, Fireteam.”
--------//|0|\\--------
Engineering was far too quiet for what was normally happening, bodies in various locations. Unit-3 ripped a hydraulic door from its moorings, tossing it behind itself as its eyes activated a night-vision mode, scanning for hostiles or potential ‘survivors,’ though it understood just how long a survivor of a reactor breach had to live. It was an agonizing sight that it had seen only a handful of times in the archives, but it was enough to even make a machine question if it was better to deal with it itself.
Its eyes locked onto the main power plant, the plate reading ‘Quantum Fusion Reactor Mark 5.’ Sparking from a specific point denoted how damaged it was, but the SpecOps around the reactor were more of an indication what kind of damage it was. The faces of some were visible, almost like looking at burned beef jerky, the closest approximation Unit-3 could make. With the energy flowing into the reactor, it appeared as if they were attempting to cross the Fusion Compression barrier, where a singularity would form. Such a singularity could destroy the entire planet below, a fact that was unacceptable to Unit-3. Checking the parameters, it confirmed a thought it had.
If the Kepler was to continue fighting, it would tear a hole in the fabric of space-time, creating a quantum singularity event that would vaporize the entire small planetary system they were in. Despite any reading before that did not indicate any advanced life, it could not tolerate the vast callousness of the potential destruction of an entire system. Tapping into the Kepler’s communications relays, it connected to the commander, waiting for the static to clear before proceeding.
“Commander, the situation is untenable at this time. Parameters entered into the control systems at the reactor are preparing to attempt to initiate a Quantum Singularity event. If such an event were to occur in the upper atmosphere of a planet such as the one we are currently orbiting, it will ignite the atmosphere first, burning all life on the planet before engorging itself on what remained to become a growing black hole.”
“Shut it down. Shunt the plasma from the fusion reaction out the engines. Move us towards the planet.”
Unit-3 had not expected such a prompt response, but it was glad. It wished it could smile, but despite that, it narrowed its optical sensors, staring at the controls. The coolant was being flushed, the faulty recycler having been bypassed for a different route to allow fresh coolant to disseminate into the system. Nodding to itself, it entered in several command codes, only halting when the screen lit up with the command it had wished was possible from the Command Bridge.
“Reactor offline. Backup system online. Activate Emergency Evacuation Teleport?”
Without an iota of hesitation, it slammed its fist into the indicated button, a powerful wave of energy emanating from where it stood and rippling through the walls towards every inch of the ship. Smiling, it looked at the ceiling, raising its hands and lifting up the middle digit of each in a gesture Red Fist had taught it. It had no one to direct it to, but towards anyone who dare threatened its crew, it felt that the gesture was appropriate.
“In the words of Vasili, ‘get fucked, assholes!’”
--------//|0|\\--------
Taking cover behind a makeshift barricade, Red fired off as many shots as he safely could from behind his little section of it, Blue and Green shaking in their own anger. Something changed, however, as they could see some sort of energy wave begin to pass through the wall. Smiling, they dropped their weapons, standing up and waving to the SpecOps soldiers charging their position as their bodies became like energy itself, the wave passing over them with a displacement of air. Where they had stood moments before only had footprints on the deck plating, the air whooshing in response to the continuous displacement as the beleaguered defenders were touched by the wave of energy and tagged for immediate Emergency Teleport, the system denoting crew members over the enemy that filled the halls of the Kepler.
John watched from the monitoring stations on the Command Bridge as crew member after crew member was rescued in very fortunate timing, some barely moments from death before the Teleport was activated. Even he felt the tell-tale energy exchange between himself and the wave that washed over him as SpecOps soldiers broke into the Command Bridge, their weapons primed as his dropped from his hands. His smile said everything as he disappeared, his voice echoing throughout where he was standing only moments before.
“Game over, Dawnbreaker. I win...”
--------//|0|\\--------
In Engineering, a screen beeped as it counted down the remaining crew members. Unit-3 kept tabs on the situation as it attempted to reroute as much of the main controls down to where it stood, the background radiation levels at least tolerable for a short time for any remaining organic life, though how far the radiation had spread before it had shut down the reactor, it was not aware of.
“All surviving crew members evacuated. System shutting down.”
“Excellent. Now-” As Unit-3 spoke to itself, it turned on the spot, aiming its sidearm at a man standing behind it, the black armour of the SpecOps soldiers invading the vessel adorning his frame. However, instead of attempting to shoot the SIP, he dropped his rifle, turning to a nearby console and chuckling to himself as he brought up several diagnostics, each screen passing rapidly as he checked ship and crew status. When the confirmation popped up even for him, he put his hands over his face, sighing as he smiled.
“Can’t believe you actually got it off in time. Wish I had been one of the ‘jacked people. Maybe I’d have had more of a chance.”
“’Jacked?”
“Something the Dawnbreaker did to members of the crew. Go to the members with easy access into their minds through their implants, and turn them into effective killing machines. It’s like taking your mind and suppressing it so much that everything that is transmitted to you becomes what you believe. The Teleport won’t transport individuals who are hijacked, but it can disrupt the signal controlling them long enough. They were lucky. I’m not.”
A photograph sat on the screen as the man stopped and stared, touching the screen gently as if to reassure the young woman and child. Sighing, he looked towards the doorway, picking up his rifle and taking up a quick position by the doorway, glancing around before aiming and squeezing off several shots. Before Unit-3 could respond, several SpecOps soldiers came stumbling through, collapsing as they tumbled into the deck plating, bleeding out from several well-placed rounds. Drawing its sidearm, Unit-3 joined him at the doorway, narrowing its optical sensors and targeting pinpoint rounds into incoming SpecOps forces. Letting an automatic algorithm handle the targeting and shooting, it turned back to the man, who sat still, swearing at his rifle as he attempted to clear the jam that had occurred.
“You did not wish to betray the Kepler?”
“Some people it was about money. Some it was not a conscious choice, since they, you know, got hijacked. The Dawnbreaker’s commander... said he would eliminate my family if I did not betray John. I should have been stronger, should have realized that he would not have kept his promise.”
“He killed your family...”
“Carter. My name’s Simon Carter,” Carter replied, finally clearing the jam and returning to his previous activity of taking down invaders. “I did what I could as a ‘saboteur,’ setting up chokepoints with explosive charges. If they detonate, and I stress if, every single little asshole sent here by the Dawnbreaker will be forcefully evacuated through various holes in the hull into hard vacuum. None of them deigned it necessary to wear a vacuum suit, so they won’t survive.”
Unit-3 looked at the diagnostics as Carter patted himself, glancing longingly over at the vacuum helmet still on the floor. With a quick flick of his foot, he kicked it over a nearby ledge, stopping to listen to the clanging as it fell down into the main reactor area below. Staring at Carter, Unit-3 shook its head and double-checked every diagnostic it had access to from the Engineering console in front of it, to very little success. It would have to return to the Command Bridge, but everything pointed to a rapidly decaying orbit, and the Dawnbreaker moving in closer, most likely to take control of the Kepler and turn it into a support Fortress. Of course, a support Fortress required a crew, and the Dawnbreaker had effectively destroyed any crew that could have been acquired, with the others escaping. The only other option was that they would ‘discover’ the evidence of the ‘crimes’ of the Kepler and they would be hailed as the pretend heroes they thought themselves to be.
“We must get moving. That vacuum helmet would have been useful for you to withstand some of the damaged sections-”
“We can avoid them-” Carter stopped speaking as he and Unit-3 walked out of the Reactor area, turning a corner to find bodies in various stages of rapid onset decomposition. Kneeling down, Carter sighed as he lifted the visor of a couple of the dead, shaking his head as he snatched some extra magazines from the dead at his feet. Unit-3 simply shook its head, tapping where its chin would be if it had a chin.
“High dosage of gamma radiation formed from the breach in the Reactor. Their internal systems were... boiled from the inside out.”
“Gruesome way to go. Come on, there’s a vent system we can use to bypass some of the more damaged sections,” Carter reminded, pointing to a nearby vent entrance as he stepped back. Unit-3, taking the hint, wrested the grating from the wall, aiming around as it heard something crawling along, only turning to enter the ventilation system when it was satisfied it was safe to do so. As Carter sighed, letting Unit-3 past, the SIP blinked a couple of times, letting a pair of lights shine from its optical systems.
Leaving the Engineering section behind them, it felt like hours as they passed exit after exit, merely stopping when Carter slowed to check bodies for useful items or ammunition. Although they progressed with some modicum of difficulty, they climbed and clambered, Carter often times being almost catapulted as high as he could go vertically so they could progress. The labyrinth of metal square tunnels was tight and dark, but it was cold, heralding a partial shutdown of whatever environmental systems were left. It was beginning to cool down rapidly, and Unit-3 was beginning to worry about Carter, if whatever he was planning would actually work.
“Unit-3, that grating there. I can’t get an angle to kick it, but maybe-”
Unceremoniously, without even a single word of warning, Unit-3’s fist lashed out, forcing the vent off and scattering it into several pieces dancing around the Command Bridge. As they stepped up, they witnessed some of the SpecOps soldiers simply milling about, as if they could not react without a threat or an order of some kind. Without hesitation, Unit-3 began to fire, its shots so accurate that Carter doubted his own usefulness in the situation. When the last soldier fell, it holstered its sidearm with a small amount of flair as it began scanning the systems and attempting to use any engines left to slow down their orbital defence.
“Carter, the ship is too damaged.”
“I know. That’s why we’re not going to correct the orbit. I’ve got a detonator here. Oh, don’t give me that look. This is hooked to non-essential corridors where I’ve hidden charges – I did what I could under the guise of helping the Dawnbreaker, but it was easier to fool them into thinking I still was following my directives. Anyways, one click and it looks like someone screwed up and destroyed the main power conduits. That and there is also the single remaining thermonuclear missile that John never decommissioned.
“Thermonuclear missile?”
Carter shook his head as he loaded up the damaged hologram console with a large warhead, complete with batch markings and model numbers. Unit-3 could only stare as Carter brought up several design schematics and simply pointed at the main payload, tapping the effects of the explosive. Words such as ‘blinding,’ ‘electromagnetic’ and ‘pulse’ were there, which made Carter smile even more as he danced around consoles, tapping symbols and starting up some kind of firing sequence.
“Thermonuclear Bombardment Missile, Mark Five, Anti-Dreadnought. Arming sequence completed. Set destination calculated.”
“You are going to detonate it between the ships like a massive E.M.P.”
“Yes, I am. Throw up enough cover that we can try to glide the Kepler into the desert battlefield she just lost in. I detonate that missile and the charges, and it will look like the boarding teams did their job. Now get ready. That console, next to communications. Enter Victor-Two-Five-Five-Zulu. That should give you access to launch controls.”
Unit-3 nodded as it turned to the console Carter spoke of, sighing as it tapped various symbols and inputted the code it had received from him. With a weird pause, the screens on the Command Bridge changed, their softer colours traded for a harsher red as launch sirens went off around them. Inputting the various parameters it had just seen Carver devise, it calculated a low chance that Carter would survive the impact, looking forlornly at the last member of its crew still aboard.
Carter glanced over at the SIP, sighing as he brought up a manual control stick, something from bygone eras that the commander had kept around for more harrowing circumstances. Gripping it tightly, he turned the Kepler, taking a quick look at Unit-3’s calculations before he was aligned with the trajectory they needed to safely land in whatever remained of the desert below. Even the pylons were beginning to leave, the end of the match signified by their departure. With a goal in mind, Carter tapped several icons, bringing up an automatic system that would allow him to have the ship guide itself.
“All right. Looks like this is it. Last flight. Launching missile and priming detonator. Detonation in 3... 2... 1... detonating!”
A bright flash in the distance took Unit-3’s attention for one single moment, the Dawnbreaker seemingly confused as it turned to activate its main drive, vanishing as they began to plummet faster. A rumbling across the floor signalled that the charges, too, were firing, leaving it to ponder where the charges had even been laid. Glancing back at Carter, it was startled to find him with a sidearm to his head, the pistol chambered and ready to fire.
“She’s ready for a crash landing, Unit-3. I’m going to die anyways, might as well be on my own terms. See you if we meet on the other side.”
With his statement concluded, Carter pulled the trigger, the resounding shot echoing in Unit-3’s audio receptors. It almost seemed like slow motion as it watched his body collapse to the ground, a smile on the dead man’s face as the pistol clattered, the magazine sliding out empty. Before it could find a single word to say, multiple atmospheric warnings activated, detailing out sentient and sapient life across the planet, and several settlements some distance from the projected crash site. Unit-3 shook its head as it began to type in commands as rapidly as it could, seeing the desert coming up faster than it expected it would.
“Commencing physical lockdown of external entrances not currently open to vacuum or the atmosphere. Initializing database lockdown. Defensive drones prepared. Entering Hibernation mo-” Unit-3’s voice died as the light from its eyes also faded, the planet coming up to meet the Kepler’s arrival. Sand, rock and metal flew from the front of the Fortress as it created a kilometres-long dig line, coming to a rest somewhat buried underneath the deep sands that it had fought on. Smoke trailed off into the sky as systems depleted their backup energy sources. If Unit-3 had been online, it would have seen that its drones were deployed, defending the final resting place of the Fortress that once stood in opposition to those who would exploit it.
--------//|0|\\--------
Deep in the desert, what remained of the great fireball the locals had seen striking the ground was not discovered by curious nobles, or apprehensive knights or guards who were too confident to understand the situation. Even the mightiest of magical spellcrafters nor the simplest of alchemists had stumbled across the glassed sand and burning remnants.
Instead, it was a group of humble farmers who had witnessed their neighbours’ homes get devastated by the pylons, and were more looking for something, or someone, to exact their revenge upon. However, those that survived their encounter were often times frightened out of their wits, the sights and signs they had witnessed depicting some horror of the utmost severity. There were no ruins of houses, there were no bodies, but the forest they had once called home was now an enormous desert, while a massive hulk of iron and anger dwelt deep within. Many who explored found themselves face-to-face with constructs of unimaginable malice, their minds too used to simplicity to comprehend the attacks they were facing. Those unlucky enough to survive by virtue of simply being outside of the hulk bore witness to the others
“’This being of metal and magic, it is of the most foulest evils! Something in the darkness, it comes no matter what!’ These seem like the fabrications of the disturbed, your highness. No need for frivolities like searching for whatever took them. They probably lost sight of each other and assumed the ‘beast’ took them.”
The reports had reached many a guard captain, but none were so very inclined to pass along the reports to their superiors, the twin rulers who stood above them and, as far as they were aware, exerted authority over the celestial bodies themselves. It was simply not as important as many would have assumed, a single report never making it to the Diarchy as they watched and waited to understand what had besmirched the once fair landscape of the forest that once was.
--------//|0|\\--------
2802 AD – The Planet P3X 292
“Hibernation successful- error. Hibernation awakened too early. Conclusion: Internal power severely diminished. Kepler reserve energy sources almost depleted.”
Unit-3 stood up from the wreckage it found itself buried in, some of the ceiling having collapsed in the time it had hibernated. Shifting pieces of plating from its position, it brought a single console back to life, extending the last remaining sensor’s field of scanning to determine what sort of planet it had embedded the Fortress into. All at once new information began flooding in, from population densities to the local intelligence level of the populace. The information all pointed to a pre-industrial, somewhat medieval society that followed ancient Rites of Nobility, and was designed in a social hierarchy to prevent the creatures from ‘forgetting their place.’ It stared at the data, unable to fully understand. The planet did not have an official designation that it was aware of, but it was populated with intelligent beings, the dominant species a quadripedal horse-like race. The sensors returned to the area around the Kepler, detecting a sizable detachment of what passed for Royal Guards standing outside one of the larger holes in the outer hull.
“Local sapient life detected. Shifting form to compensate. Beginning transformation process.”
--------//|0|\\--------
“’Dear Luna, I really do hope you are well. Star Swirl has agreed to accompany you to the wreck of the hulk in the suppressed reports from the past seven years. Be cautious, sister. If the reports are to be believed, the stories of what happen inside are grave indeed. Creatures that spit instant death, as if a dragon was breathing flames upon you. I hope to see you soon. Celestia.’”
“It does sound like she’s somewhat apprehensive about your... outing to the Everfree Desert. We have not deciphered the markings on the outside of the metal hulk, but it is some form of language beyond even our understanding.”
Luna sat underneath an umbrella, sipping from a small teacup as she looked over at the advisor who had just spoke, an elderly, greying Unicorn who was strong yet frail, his long beard draped over the star-covered robe he wore as part of his profession. Grunting, Luna pointed up at several of the symbols, closing one eye as she let her horn glow, a beam of energy producing a burn pattern in the same colour as the symbols. All at once, the symbols seemed a lot clearer, but the word meant absolutely nothing to them.
“Star Swirl, my old, bearded friend. We shall explore this wreck, and we shall return post-haste with the bodies of those who hath fallen. We shan’t be tarrying too long, but still. Whatever this was, it had something associated with this Kepler being.”
“Maybe the answers still await us inside, Princess. I do insist that I accompany you. It is dangerous inside, and you are but one. I would also request the presence of the unicorns that arrived with the guards. You will understand why I request this.”
With a silent nod, Luna glanced over at the others, feeling Star Swirl lay a massive, wide-brimmed sun-hat over her head. Sticking out her tongue, she glanced up at the wreckage, her mind was awash with so very many ideas and concepts of what could possibly await them inside. Treasure was not something she would normally go on an outing for, but neither was unnecessary danger. Knowledge was her bastion, and she believed in the knowledge she could possibly gain whilst inside.
“What secrets do you hold, you magnificent metal beast?”
--------//|0|\\--------
Dancing lights flowed through the darkness, the unicorn guards simply keeping up a constant light source as they entered the nearest hole they assumed was some kind of entrance, remaining vigilant in the face of the stories of the hulk. Strange orb-like creatures had assaulted them twice in their journey, the unicorns easily dispatching them with the Princess’ help. The machinery involved in their operation was beyond anything that Luna or Star Swirl had ever witnessed, the elderly unicorn frowning as he tapped the dead machines. The fact of their complexity began to haunt Luna to a small degree, the idea that anyone was more advanced in culture and technology besides her homeland a shock to her system.
Luna was stunned back into reality as the unicorns took up positions around a hatch that had faded writing over the top. She was not entirely sure, but she could have sworn that the wording simply said ‘Terrace,’ for some odd reason. She nodded to the unicorns, narrowing her eyes and focusing as they watched the internal mechanism rotate, the doors creaking and groaning as they were forced to open. Whatever would have energized the doors was long gone, the mechanism themselves somewhat destroyed. As they entered the hatch, they found themselves in a massive hub-like area, odd tube-like frames stretching from floor to the ceiling far above. It was a sight that made Luna feel ever so small as she stared up at a massive disk in the distant roof, her mind wondering what it had been for.
Star Swirl gasped, causing Luna to spin in place until she understood the gasp. Bodies upon bodies were scattered around, their desiccated forms almost perfectly preserved inside the massive room. Luna felt a single tear escape her eye, but she could not stop as she glanced down at her compass, a small device lent to her by an enterprising youth back in the capitol. For some reason, it was drawn to a set of tall rods in the centre of the massive Terrace, or whatever it actually was called, and would not align to the north. Silently stepping over the couple of corpses nearby, she was stunned to find even more between her and the rods.
“Such... such death. It looks like a battlefield. So many lives just... gone. The pain... it must have been insurmountable.”
“You will not find any alive. All bipedal life signs aboard this vessel were extinguished seven standard years ago.”
Echoing steps, like a hoof meeting a metal sheet, resonated behind Luna. Spinning around, she stared into the eyes of something not quite like her subjects, but resembling them. Metal plating covered its body while two massive red glowing orbs resided where eyes would be. Even the tail was not natural, a segmented rod that was flexible, yet solid. Luna attempted to wipe her eyes, steeling her resolve. Hearing a noise, Luna glanced back at the entrance, witnessing the doors suddenly slamming shut, locking her unicorn guards outside.
“They fought each other. A... group decided that this vessel was conspiring to disobey the rules set in place, and manipulated the crew of two vessels to combat each other under false pretenses. My designation is Unit-3, although it may be more prudent for a sufficient name for this chassis. Your species, the equine forms of this planet, have a fondness for attaching names to everything,” Unit-3 claimed, its segmented tail dancing while it watched Luna’s eyes dart to the various remains strewn around the area. “There will be time for memorial at a later juncture, however...”
“However, what?”
“Your companion, equine female, is of the sufficient intelligence to interface with my technology. I must humbly request that permission is granted for me to create an interface with them.”
“How dare- you speak to a Princess of Equestria! Know your tongue, creature!”
Luna stared at Star Swirl, then back at Unit-3. Such decisions like the one facing her were normally something she would optimally relegate to her sister, but she was forced to make the decision, and it began to sour her mood. Whatever the ‘interface’ was, it could be something insidious and devastating if it was some nefarious device that took control of an entity, but it could also be something magnanimous or benign. Star Swirl continued to glare angrily at the metal construct, narrowing his eyes as he frowned deeply.
“How do I know you do not wish him harm? He is the Court’s leading expert on spells and magical enterprises, and has many enemies. There could be so many more potential-”
Unit-3 let its strange orb-eyes become half-lidded as it shook its head. Star Swirl’s face began to drop as he started to let himself think, the thoughts obvious from the strained expression on his face. Luna narrowed her eyes as she moved closer, staring down the construct but instead discovering that the construct did not kneel down in fear, nor did it even present a reaction. It felt like the machine was testing her, but she refused to give in.
“Your companion, the Court Magician as you have called him, is the only being of this planet’s current era that can properly interface. Your chronological age is sufficient, but your mental maturity unfortunately is not currently enough. That simple facet can cause irreparable damage.”
“No! I will not allow-” Luna clamped her mouth shut as Star Swirl, a look of inquisitive curiosity on his face, stepped forward, raising an eyebrow as he began to circle Unit-3.
“What would we possibly gain should I... ‘interface’ into whatever it is you interface into?”
“Look around. There is currently a major systems lockdown, but through such an interface, we may be able to rectify the physical lockdown, and lift the digital lockdowns on non-major-”
“Digital?”
Luna stared in utter confusion at the construct, her mind simply overrun with numerous questions and theories. She stared, her eyes widening with the mind-blowing information she was being presented with. A mechanical construct-equine that claimed it could create some kind of ‘interface’ to connecct with whatever the ‘systems’ were, and Star Swirl seemed to be interested, which meant she could not convince him otherwise. Many circles she knew of were familiar with the legendary stubbornness that Star Swirl had cultivated over his many, many years.
“I suppose that will have to suffice, unfortunately. There is much knowledge to be had, then, if we begin the interface?”
“Affirmative,” Unit-3 confirmed, motioning to a chair lifting up between the magnetic rods. A chair sat in the midst of the platform, a strange port in the centre of the rear with four strange metallic appendages dangling from the back. Without a word, Star Swirl stepped towards the chair and took a seat, shifting until he was comfortable.
“So, will he-”
“The procedure is not painless. If painkillers were available, I would apply them. Implantation will commence shortly, with the permission of your ruler, candidate.”
Luna slowly nodded, her eyes widening in fear as the chair shifted itself, changing more from its previous configuration into a form more acceptable to the equine shape, seemingly preparing for whatever the ‘implantation procedure’ was. If a proper warning had been issues, then she would have been far more mentally prepared, but as she contemplated how the construct actually knew Equestrian, she was shocked back to reality by the screams, bloodcurdling, fearful noises, sounds that she had not expected Star Swirl was even capable of creating. Her Court Magician was squirming and shaking, his wailing resembling that of a school-age filly discovering her first horrific monster out in the wild.
Luna stared, the process barely taking any time at all, but it was enough to unnerve Luna and even the unicorns who had finally melted through the hatch and entered the Terrace. Star Swirl himself, however, sat up ramrod stiff, completely unnatural for an equine, and just stared, his eyes overcome with resonating and pulsing colours, lights flashing and blinking. Standing up, Luna saw the metal plate locked onto the back of his neck, shuddering to think what was happening inside her advisor’s head.
“Princess Luna! You would not believe the ideas, the theories, the concepts I see! Designs, specifications, stars, planets, whole galaxies, even the histories of entire races!”
“Implantation of access and data retrieval module concluded. This will allow the user designated as Star Swirl the Bearded complete access to the digital archives that are not currently under digital lockdown, and complete access to the areas of the vessel that still have power.”
“Wait, you’ve said vessel multiple times... wait! This is a ship, a star vessel! That is impossible! Incredibly, amazingly impossible! Princess, the discoveries we could make, the advancements we could design to help the world! We could save so many from the sicknesses they feel, even-”
Luna held up her hoof, sighing as she felt a weird heat fall on her coat. Staring up, she noticed the massive disk that could move was lighting up, the shape of a star evident when the glow was activated. Star Swirl seemed to be having the time of his life, his eyes awash with the colours and ideas of so very many concepts. However, her mind was fixated on the when, more-so than the how and the why. She spun Star Swirl around to face her dead-on, his eyes locking with hers as the lights began to disappear.
“Star Swirl, this is a vessel. Every vessel has something about it.”
“’The Kepler was the last of a category of vessels known as Colony Conveyors refitted for Mobile Fortress duty after its refit and launch in 2702 AD. Originally part of a fleet of the Wyvern-class variant, it was refitted for transporting military-based forces instead of civilians. What’s this? Some kind of barrier prevents me from understand the undertaking the vessel was undergoing before it... fell from the sky. But what we do understand now, Princess... this wreck, this vessel, this starship, came from beyond your stars. Far beyond your stars, may I allow?”
Luna stopped and looked away, tapping her mouth with her hoof as she pondered what to do. Even with the greatest minds in Equestria, and maybe, quite possibly, beyond their lands, the task she could possibly be asking of them was not an easy undertaking. They would be unable to contact anyone, for fear that the discovery, if made public, would ignite a war that Equestria was not prepared for. The sheer amount of time was a problem as well, considering her estimate of time taken to allow for even somewhat of a basic understanding was sitting somewhere at the equivalent of five centuries, a feat she could live through, but very few others could.
“We’ve got a rather problematic decision, my old friend.”
“Princess?”
“We need to make you disappear. Vanish. We will have to speak with my sister. If she agrees, then we will create the story behind your disappearance. I know you recently dealt with a threat you may have accidentally had a hand in creating. If your compatriots, those you called ‘Pillars,’ are willing to work within the confines of our idea, then we can have you oversee this wreck. We will send you the necessary talent and expertise to understand this vessel. You will remain here with the Kepler. I shall alert my dearest sister to these new developments, but as for anything else, you will be giving your reports directly to me. I shall oversee this myself.”
Luna sighed as she worried internally, the project ahead a fierce beast she was not certain she could defeat. There were so many variables, so many problems that could go wrong. If she dared have a single misstep, it could mean a war their world was not meant to see, or Equestria could usher in a golden age of prosperity in peace. The unfortunate short-term effect she could ascertain was the slow progress she expected, but she could not deny the giddiness she felt inside. With a smile, and a laugh, she danced around, attempting to lift Unit-3 but to no avail. Star Swirl cleared his throat, bringing the attention of Luna and Unit-3 back to himself.
“Well then. Shall we get started?
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Please tell me that Unit 3 is not going to be the first victim of an "Alien visitors turn into ponies" story.
3962894
It will be explained as to why Unit 3 changed. It is actually to do with technology... and an oversight aboard the Kepler.
This pleases me, but it needs more pony
3974477
It be only the prologue. Be warned, for everything you know may or may not be turned upside down. Who knows?
3974488 indeed, also, the 'ling and Chryssi tags intrigue me
3974619
Trust me, you will be surprised once the TRUE chapter 1 is done.
4067250 excellent, I eagerly await.
Feels a bit rushed with less description than I'd normally prefer... but is interesting nuff to keep wantin more.
4107330
It took me four months to do 23 pages of writing. That's how many pages are in the first chapter.
Anyways, I was trying to stay out of "Too Many Characters," a little problem where you get too many main characters, and you end up killing off most of them just to help you think. Not the same here. I will mention, though, that Chapter 1 is a bit better. It might be longer, it might be shorter, who knows?
Addendum [12/24/2014]: 30 pages. Still writing as well.
4107472
Well I do understand how writing can get and it is a well done story so far so keep it up and it'll be all good
more pony words please
4246140 We're still working on the second chapter, making sure it matches up with what we were trying to create.
4246316 Alternate canon for Luna's banishment being a ruse so she can fight with magic pony ass kickery against war mongering humans in a space ship?
4246500
Uh... you'll be surprised. Maybe pleasantly, maybe not. The universe myself and Khorne Dog have been creating with this (We've got a LOT of the chapters planned out already, almost up to the midway point), it's going to take what you know, and somewhat turn it on its head.
4246963 BTW, I caught quite a few StarCraft refrences in there. I hope this story doesn't die mysteriously after a new expansion comes out. ;)
4260944 Uh... no. There won't be any death of a story. I've got finals and stuff coming up.
MOAR
4801372 Well, we're actually working on a bit of another project. It does involve Future Tactics, but in a much bigger way. Don't worry.
>Ponies.
>Entirely inhuman in nature.
... Excuse me? They act exactly like us! They're four legged humans!
Edit: To clarify, I'm referring to something said in the description.
5002528
Yes, I get that. We're working on a bunch of things at the moment. Right now, I'm doing a lot of work and don't have much time to write.
5003537
... I don't wish to come off as insensitive, but what does any of that have to do with what I said?
5004208
It was mostly because I'm doing a bunch of rewrites, and was planning on changing the description, and haven't got around to it yet.
5009093
Ah. Understood.
*Finishes reading *
And that was only the fucking PROLOGUE?! I think I might die of old age if this keeps up...
5419048
Sorry. I am finally getting back into writing the FIRST chapter. You wanna count the ACTUAL pages in this thing? Twenty-two pages for the first one (Going by my wordprocessor program), and somewhere past 30 for the second.
Yeah, this is a lot bigger than anything else I've done.
Trust me, war is coming.
And war...
... war never changes.
I wish I could count how many times the author put a line break into the chapter.
10458344 I wish I could count how many linebreaks I had in the oldest of chapters I made. It's a habit that I've slowly been breaking myself of since 2014.
Wait did the transport not work?