The second wave came with metal and fire and fury Biggs could only match. He had lost the majority of the team he had made the initial breach with, it hadn't been a large team, as far as the forces of the swarm went, twenty had gone down under fire, six he had lost track with in the chaos of battle, and at least two more had broken away following new orders.
That left the one female Funebraran he was most familiar with. Is'Tach; a squat, brutish, scorpion... thing, had remained by his side, laying down a cover of white hot scatterfire from an H-16 Castor rifle and burning the amphibious ground troops off his back like so much lice. When the bladed arm of some silver machination carved through the wall and took off two of her four left arms Biggs snarled and rolled right on top of her, scooping her into the hollow of his ribs as he kept on. He brought a massive coil around and over and smashed it down on the arm, tearing it off the revealed crab looking thing completely. The blade stuck between the plates of his carapace, caught, digging into the softer tissue beneath but Biggs ignored it, slamming his head into the wall twice to shatter it enough to get his beak at new wave of troops.
He passed his reflection in the metal corridor, the demon bones of a behemoth dragon on fire, and almost turned to attack it- he had not recognized himself in years- but a charging frog man jammed a gun between his ribs and fired.
Biggs tore him off, swallowed a detached limb and rounded on the soldiers. There was that moment of calm before someone panics and lets loose: and Biggs used it to rip another leg off the fresh corpse and swallow it down with a burning glare.
"Sir, we're at observation altitude." Mondegreen says over the radio.
"Alright, send me the data..." I reply. An image of the target zone shows up on my helmet's Super Multifunctional Display. Back in the Twentieth Century the then United States Army developed a system called Land Warrior that was supposed to be able to do the same, albeit it was a bulkier package. Nowadays all the comms gear is in the helmet and the screen diplays on my visor. Thanks to alterations the United Systems Army makes on their soldiers all I have to do plug the USB cable into the back of my head and I'm in. I just think it and it happens. We're all altered like that. It makes us a better team.
"Looks like they've got some striders." That's our term for Mobile Support Platforms.
"Alright, everybody check your SMFDs, got some data to relay."
"Wylder, Medvedev, tangle up those MSPs. I do not want them ruining my day."
"Da, comrade."
"You got it!"
"Del Toro, Uralia, break off and swing around from the North. I don't think they'll expect a single ground attack gunship."
"As for the rest of us, we'll come in from the South and strike at the heaviest field of fire. Vasquez, this means you're going to have to pump out a fuckton of slugs from your tank. Anything that moves and doesn't display a valid friendly IFF (Identifier Friend or Foe), send them to hell."
"Con mucho gusto, boss." I make a few additions to the image, putting in waypoints. That's when it hits me.
"Mondegreen, how many EMP Tomahawks are loaded?" I ask my XO.
"Ahh, lemme see..." he replies. I hear him whistling the Jeopardy theme while he looks at his console. "Three EMP Tomahawks." I do the math in my head.
"Launch them now... We'll strike after impact."
"You got it, boss. Launching Tomahawks."
-------------------------------------
The Ruination maintained it's overwatch as had originally been intended. Without warning the midships was clouded in smoke, four missiles launching one after the other.
Taxus, with the help of Arkoss, teleports inside Biggs hollow rib cage. He than proceeds to use Biggs's naturally energies to shield him from attacks, add effectively an energy field to the attacks he makes and wreak havoc in a form of lightning bolts streaking from Biggs into enemies.
Connecting himself back into the energies of the other teams he quickly reviewed the strength of the energies of them. Most of the teams were still doing strong, pushing hard and taking ground quickly. Some of the teams had suffered heavy losses from the mobile suppression platforms and pulse casters. The mobile suppression platforms were causing high losses to the infantry, but, it was the pulse casters ability to cut down the funebrarans bio-mechs that had Taxus currently worried. As the mobile support platform retreated from the concentrated fire of Arkoss's squad he moved forward to Arkoss's side, "I'm going to need your assistance. Biggs has lost most of his infantry support. Between these suppression platforms and the pulse casters without aid there is a high percentile chance of losing Biggs in this confrontation. This would be an unacceptable loss. I believe with Biggs large energy source I can pull my physical self to him. To increase my chances of successfully relocated myself to a target at such distance I'm going to need you to lend your energies to me to assist in keeping my physical body on course."
Arkoss simply nodded, giving Taxus a look of affirmation from behind his armour's four vicious eyes. They had watched one another's back in various hellish conflicts, forging a strong sense of trust and confidence in the other's abilities. Together they withdrew a short distance as the rest of the squad moved into position to give them the cover they would need. Taxus first let his mind delve into the energies, slipping somewhere between other world and our reality. He raced along the rivers of energy until he located the massive pool of energy that was Biggs in the physical world. He wove strings of energy together to form a rope that anchored itself inside the hollow portion of Biggs where Is'Tach currently was. Concentrating on this rope of energy he slowly begun to hollow it out and open it up forming a path for his physical body to travel through. Taxus slowly started to dissolve from the physical world, his body melding into the other world with his mind as Arkoss begun to channel his own his energies and propelled Taxus along the path of energy he had built. The chaotic essence of the other world tore against the unnatural path of energy as Taxus physical body traveled along it. With their combined powers, Taxus was able to keep the energies he had woven together long enough for Arkoss to propel his body along the path.
Slamming back into the physical world was an incredible shock to the body. If Taxus had to breath the air would've been knocked from his lungs. Seeing this manifestation was sure to startle anybody who witnessed the action of a being entering the physical world from non-existence. His body seemed to melt into being a piece at a time. Like a blob forming into a being. Taxus shook his head roughly to throw away the disturbance his body felt from under going such a violent transformation. There was no time to sit and gather his wits about him like he wanted to. He could feel the massive energies that Biggs body put off from simply being. These seemed minute to the power Biggs put off through the exertion of battle. As Taxus tapped into this pooled energy he felt like a greater being, like a god.
One of the pulse casters fired accurately. While tapped into Biggs Taxus's senses where heightened to the energies of the world. This beam would be devastating if it was allowed to reach its target. He could raise a shield but it wasn't guaranteed to stop the overwhelming power of the pulse caster. Instead of trying to block the beam with a shield he lashed out with a bolt of energy that ripped upwards from Biggs like a volcano. As it formed it had the appearance of a tornado, large sources of energy swirling together in different colors of red, blue and gold. As the beam from the pulse caster begun to descend, the tornado of energy slammed into it. The two beams collided and exploding high in the air. It was like watching a star go super nova. Anybody unfortunate enough to be looking up would've been blinded by the brightness of the two energies colliding and dispersing.
The air begun to shimmer around Biggs, giving him almost a blurry appearance. As rockets streaked in towards him, they simply disintegrated against the energy shield formed around him. The shield made his impacts even more ferocious, it acted like a power field around his every movements. Taxus's eyes were wide open, glowing a tremendous blue as the energy channeled through his power. Random muscles were going into uncontrollable spasms. As Biggs charged it was as if he carried a thunder storm with him. Lightning shot off his body in apparently random spurts of destruction. The mobile suppression platform that had moved away from Arkoss's squad to confront Biggs was suddenly under a barrage of a violet bolts that battered varying chunks off of it before causing it to explode.
Though Biggs would be aware of the energies being manipulated around him Taxus was careful not to tap directly into his life force. He manipulated the energy that a being the size of Biggs exudes naturally and turned it into a weapon of mass destruction. Concentrating it in areas to protect Biggs from enemy fire, wrapping it around his head and limbs when he charged and swung, twisting it into wrathful bolts of destruction to target larger enemies and threats.
Sorvaille was awfully suspicious of this creature that could speak like her. That factor aside, she reminded him of someone else and wanted to tag along? Just like that? Judging this stranger would have to take place elsewhere, since there was much more work to be done and this environment wasn't the most secure. Her defenses were lowered and she told the Funebaran who were accompanying her to do the same by making a gesture.
"Very well, Sefu, but I have my eye on you."
In her native tongue, she instructed her teammates to attack at will if Sefu interfered with their tasks. Something else came to mind... What if he was made to look like them and then back stab them all along? It may sound far fetched, but one couldn't be too careful. Before making her departure, she decided to ask one more thing of him, "Give me a few good reasons why I should trust you."
She wanted to go back in attack mode, though she resisted because she wanted to look trustworthy to Sefu as well.
--
Arkoss instructed Claire to get certain points marked on the defenses. Her wounded feet skidded against the floor when she fully understood, panting quietly as she took note of their location. She spotted a hole in a wall ahead of them and went dashing towards it, her nimble squad of Funebarans only feet behind her.
She made a jump through the wall, both ears erect as a familiar sense of power came to her. Biggs must have been under attack... It was most certainly a diversion for the enemy if Claire was correct about what was going on. She looked to her friends that awaited her orders and she adjusted her posture, pointing over her shoulder with a thumb,
"We've got targets to mark, everyone! You and you run ahead with me to signal the air support," she pointed at two Funebaran and moved to stand beside her. "The rest of you watch our backs, alright? Let's go!"
Swiftly, Claire ran towards the scene with her eyes on a particular structure that was close to the turrets. She and the other two didn't stop for anything... An amazingly done leap from the ground allowed her to fall into a hole in the building. She landed on a pile of debris that felt like it was on fire, a wire piercing at her heel. Ignoring the sudden stab, she raced towards the roof of the structure while one of her Fubebarans entered after her, keeping watch for anyone looking to harm his commander.
When she arrived on the roof, she raised her gun in the air, pausing when she heard commotion below her. She desperately hoped that her protector was not getting himself killed... Guilt was not a feeling she welcomed, but this had to be done! She activated the red light on her weapon that helped designate targets, and kept it raised until it was time for her to scramble away.
X13's Funebraran detachment were fighting tooth and nail up the base's defenses. They were here to draw fire and take out the superweapon-fortifications, and while they were doing their job of eliminating enemy threats and forcing the enemy to send ever-increasing numbers of defenders from the heart of the base, their attempts to bring down the plasma-caster turrets were unremarkable.
The battle-'droid's initial destruction of the first turret was awe-inspiring and his Funebraran supporters surged forth after and crushed the enemy under foot. They had even taken out an additional 'caster turret.
At the cost of more than half of their demolitions supply.
On top of the great cost in munitions in bringing down the gun, they had lost several more Funebraran soldiers. The base of the turret had many self-activated defenses, and cut down two of the assaulters before knocking them out, and while huddled at the base of the turret, a surge of enemies eruped from seemingly all around, from holes and recesses and hatchways that pocketed the defensive net of their gun placement.
It was wicked fighting, and two more Funebrarans fell. X13 personally led a counter-surge against their enemy. Unfortunately, it split the attackers in half, but t had not stopped their mission. After an unnatural pause in the violence, there was a heavy explosion. The 'caster turret toppled, ripped from it's base in the earth. It was not knocked out of commission; as a matter of fact, there was very little damage done to the turret. But it had been toppled and forced onto the length of it's side, and from there, it would rain down no more death on the 13th War Swarm.
X13's face was filled with minor annoyance as ground-based communications jamming suddenly kicked to life, scrambling the communications burst. He tilted his head one way and twisted around the other, looking a normal man trying to shake the buzzing from his ears.
::Paint the big fucking guns.::
Blinking away the text from the corner of his vision, more began to roll in with his orders. The A.I. Durandal was tight-beaming Arkoss' orders directly to the android. Thanks to his 'special' observations package he had uploaded to the man-machine, he was able to notice the communications short-fall.
"Acknowledged," X13 said aloud for Arkoss' benefit. He bothered to send no kind of communication to the A.I. in orbit.
Turning to the few Funebrarans with him, he gave orders to light las-flares and get them all along the trenches. X13 himself stood out above the defensive position and buried his feet into the dirt. Directing his sight across the stretch of the battle field, his tactical 'vision' began to filter out the visual noise and highlight every 'caster turret in the field. One by one, invisible tight beams bathed across each of the massive superguns, highlighting them with infrared light.
"Warhead burst sit locked!" Mondegreen shouted as the warheads locked in on the target location. The howitzers fired as the Tomahawks closed the distance, the cruise missiles weaving along preset flight paths. The artillery shells, accelerated at hypervelocity, were already halfway to the target zone.
In the APCs the soldiers tensed up, weapons being charged and prayers being said.
In the Titan and the Acro Medvedev and Wyler respectively concentrated on their roles in the assault.
In the Peregrinus Uralia took a quick swig of vodka from a flask as Del Toro concentrated on flying.
"TLAM Impact, ETA thirty seconds." Mondegreen called out over the net. Already point defense systems on the remaining guns trained skyward, firing on the missiles in an attempt to intercept them. The TLAMs detonated above their target zones and the battlefield went silent as sensitive electronics, special weapons, comms, and radar went offline.
Then the artillery hit. Thousands of superheated submunitions showered the guns, several point defense systems, unprotected amphibs, and anything unable to clear the strike zone was destroyed in an instant. The Funebrarans were awed at the damage done in such a short amount of time.
That's when the ground team arrived.
"Algien en casa?" Vasquez shouted as Moriarty sighted one of the surviving guns at sixty feet, point blank range for the 127mm Linear Cannon.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!" he shouted as the tank rocked, the laser cannon erupting in fire. The Bloodhounds rolled up, ramps lowering.
"Move it! Suppression fire!" Hayden shouted as the APCs opened up on unmoving amphib mechanized infantry. Twenty milimeter Saboted Layered Armor Penetrators tore through armor and flesh. Many amphibs cried out as they tried to make their armor move, the EMP burst having disabled them. Hayden charged up to one, chainsword fixed to his rifle.
"Be glad I'm not French, otherwise I'd be eating you!" he shouted as he plunged the bayonet into the amphib's chest, bits of armor, flesh, and gore going everywhere. In the North the Peregrinus got in close to the still nonfunctional turrets and started blasting them with it's Laser Gatling. Each time Uralia ventilated a turret Del Toro took them away as it erupted and moved in right close to the next gun.
"Bossman, MSPs nearing your position. They were outside the EMP burst radius." Mondegreen reported from his vantage point in the Ruination.
"Copy that, break, Medvedev, Wylder, got some party crashers. Bounce them out." Hayden ordered.
"Da, Kapitan. They will run in fear." Medveded replied. In the Ruination Mondegreen watched the the two Mecha jet around and flank the MSPs. The gorrilla like machine tackled one of the taller ones, felling it. Mondegreen watched the Acro rush up and finish the job with a point blank blast from both over the shoulder linear cannons as Medvedev moved on to the next target.
At that moment the effects of the EMP burst were beginning to wear off.
"Boss, static defenses coming back online. I'm falling back before they shoot me down." Del Toro called out to Hayden, hitting a few buttons on his console. The Peregrinus dumped chaff and flares in it's wake to confuse the enemy FCS (Fire Control System).
"Copy that, break, Mondegreen, strike down like Zeus from Mount Olympus." Hayden ordered as he gutted another amphib.
"Affirmative. Do, lock in targets and get ready to fire." Mondegreen said to the crewman at the COM-160 panel for the ventral gun, Mount 5-2.
"Weapons charging. Firing strength... now..."
"FIRE!!!" On the ground Hayden and his team had taken cover behind a wrecked hexapod tank. Fat Mike was on the ground, Lizette trying to patch up a gut wound he had sustained.
"COVER!" Hayden shouted as the first burst of naval gunfire struck one of the Plasma Casters, square in the gun mount. The fixed weapon erupted in a fireball, taking out a few amphibs that had rallied nearby to it in the process.
"Yeah! Like shovin' a M-80 up a frog's ass!" Ernest howled as the second Plasma Caster took a direct hit from the Ruination. The result was very much the same.
"Don't celebrate just yet. They might try to rally." Hayden cautioned as the final Plasma Caster was waxed. Hayden accessed the hack they had for Arkoss' network.
"Client, the big mouths are silenced. We've taken a few casualties, how about you?"
---------------------------------------
(OOC)
-The Iron Raptors enter the fray in a Combined Force of Arms. They finish off the turrets with extreme prejudice.
(/OOC)
"I would not trust me either," Sefu acknowledged with a wry smile. "And I was created to combat War Swarms. I can not give you good reason to trust me, but I can tell you reasons I will not betray you. First, I have no love for Coalition. I am just weapon to them. Second, I will be killed if I am recaptured. I killed my escort to escape. I am told my claws leave distinctive marks." He held up his hand for inspection, the claws on his index and middle finger fully extended.
"All I ask is place where I can be person and not just asset. In exchange, I give information. Command Staff has emergency egress shaft on level twelve. It exits three point four kilometers northwest of base in small cave in mountains. Is where I was going to try and escape through."
Biggs was accustommed to carrying folk around in side of him, so while Taxas' sudden displacement of energy wasn't uncomfortable it was still a bit of a surprise. He thought for a moment the little guy was injured and reached out- or in, rather- to heal him as he faced down a third wave of angry frog soldiers, but Taxas pushed the energy away and Biggs felt him reach out, feeding off the kinetic forces pulled into Biggs' wake just from moving.
The air crackled around him- them, and Biggs turned to snap up a Pleuroidilian at his eight only to have it fried black just in front of his snout.
It was damn cool that's what it was. He turned his own energy to keeping the fallen Funebraran in his other chamber stabilized while healing his own injuries as Taxas rained down lightening from heaven and went ot the physical offensive, rolling over a tank critter and swept half a battallion organizing behind it off their feet and into a toxin induced Bad Trip.
He sent a thought out to Taxon, not sure if he would, or could hear it, to apologize anyway. Hope you don't get motion sick...
In the distance, thunder shook the ground. Biggs hoped that meant they'd gotten those weapons platforms taken out. And that that little softy girl he's passed in deployment was okay. Claire. He thought he might have had one of those cat animals once, a long time ago... he liked her feet...
Where the hell were all these salamander things coming from and who the hell thought of arming them!?
Arkoss bro-fists Hayden for destroying the enemy's main defences. He and his squad proceed to enter the compound, splitting up. Arkoss takes the top floor while three others take the floor below it. It is discovered that general Markarov is actually leaving the battlefield, headed for a secret escape route. In the meantime, the Cancer Domus and its supporting forces proceed to ravage the remaining enemy forces.
The sound of funebraran guns and claws had amplified suddenly, followed by the ripping of metal and heavy thuds as the enemy armour exploded and then fell to the ground as dead weight. The hellish symphony was suddenly interrupted over Hayden's communications by a sharp, screeching sound.
Arkoss watched as the newt-within-a-suit spilled his lifeblood across the ground. His arm was still raised in a diagonal position from the crescent-shaped path of his sword, cleanly slicing the pleurodelinain mecha-infantry into two. The three soldiers with him simply kept their eyes on the windows of the structure they were walking past, unfazed by their commander's prowress. A geist lay shattered on the ground, along with another one of the armour suits, swiftly eliminated with bladed weaponry, drawing no attention over the din of the raging battle.
Arkoss' team had split into two, with four of the others breaking off to support the now renewed funebraran attack, while three stayed Arkoss as they used the back alleys of various buildings in the area, such as barracks and mineral processing facilities, to get close to the command center. They were passing through the rear another office building, one that had been converted to a multi-purpose military structure and the front of a set-up warehouse behind it, one that seemed to have had originally been a tavern of sorts. All they had encountered so far were a few small rear guard patrols, as the rest of Markarov's forces were desperately trying to now fight without the assistance of their main defence's and against new enemies helping the insectoid warriors.
With the security detail dealt with, Arkoss began to reply to Hayden's question.
"Tide's been swung back in our favour," he replied, as he pointed at spots on the rear of the building he wanted his men to take positions at "Tactical overview shows that we've effectively shattered 75% immediate enemy defensive forces. Enemy heavy armour is only at half strength and gun-turret emplacements have been reduced to nearly the same. The enemy's practically swept off their feet; let's capitalize on this while we can. Take out the remaining heavy weaponry. Be prepared for a quick exit; I don't want you around if suddenly T.S.C. forces show up."
His three men crawled up the walls, additional limbs spurting out of their torso if they were hidden. Often lengthy, they seemed more bestial and less evolved than the arms and hands with which one often saw them utilising their advanced technology. Sometimes they ended like the tips of spears or with long and sharp digits in even numbers. They climbed incredibly quickly, using all of their limbs in tandem. The motion was rather strange yet executed surprisingly naturally in spite of their more evolved appearence.
"One more thing, get away from the frontal entrance. The cancer domus will be arriving soon."
Positioned at the window on the floor above the one his team was, Arkoss' fingers cracked open the window's locking mechanisms, making little in the way of sound. Through the open windows of the floor below, his team slipped in, soon disappearing into the lengthy corridors. He would sweep the top floor while the other three would sweep the lower one. If need be, they'd assist in the combat outside, disabling heavy weapon emplacements and turrets installed into the structure and likely disrupting communications on the enemy chain of command.
With the window opened, Arkoss rolled in. Sharply, he gave the room a quick inspection. Finding little of interest in the few tables, vending machines, and the papers pinned to the bulleting boards of little significance, he promptly left the un-used room.
The interior hallways were surprisingly empty, although the sound of footfalls, clanging and normal taps, could be heard; he wasn't alone. Lights seemed to suddenly dim when the building shook while battle orders in the pleurodelinain language, distorted through their speakers of their machines, were frequently shouted. The top floor was for the most part seemingly unchanged; looking through the thin windows running through the interior of computer and mineral analysis rooms, he saw a few weapon racks and modified mining equipment, yet for the most part, touches such as the floor's light blue colouration and potted plants kept it looking mostly office like.
Then he heard a noise, a sort of fuzzy, bassy and intermittent hum. Quickly opening a door to one of the office rooms, he slipped in and closed it as quietly as he could given the proximity of the foe. Crouched, with his back pressed up against the wall, he craned his neck and saw the spherical upper quarter of the geist passing him by, moving through the corridors like a railed vehicle, only it was floating. He noticed that most of its tendrils seemed to be full. Ovular beaker-shaped energy packs, small boxes, a few heavy machine guns, and a variety of other supplies. Yet what stuck out to him the most from his limited view was that it seemed to be moving rather slow, as if it was in no hurry to deliver its supplies.
Feeling suspicious, he activated another vision mode, highlighting the edges and the borders of all things he saw with boldly colours, while that which those boundaries contained was given a more faint colouration. In particular, the world around him seemed to now be a lot of straight lines sectioning off the boundaries of various objects, and through these transparent shapes, he saw a variety of shapes moving from position to position. Mostly the pleurodelinains manning large mounted weaponry at windows or reparing damaged armour.
The geist now seemed to be two colours; the armoured suit was a sort of red, yet there was a green shape inside of it, the actual newt, sitting in a compat pilot's compartment. While the newt simply looked like a glowing emerald coloured lizard roughly the size of a adolescent human, he was still able to get an idea of why it was moving rather slowly. It seemed to be communicating with someone; looking at a screen rather intently and urgently.
On his HUD, a targetic reticule closed in on the creature, then slid to the left, onto the screen through which it conversed. Clearing up the image, he paused suddenly, head and gun-arm partially exposed through the window. The image, it was Markarov himself; he recognized the cluster of green dots on his elongated head, the bodysuit he wore and the elaborate bio-luminescent lines on it, arranged symmetrically, and that voice, that wet, sliding, yet authoritative and fearless voice that he'd heard before.
Seeing an ample opportunity, Arkoss wasted no time hacking into the system, acquiring data from where the general was giving his commands and then quietly slipped back into the shadows of the un-lit room. Moving past a few work-stations, arranged like massive plus-signs, he began to open up his communications channels.
A few clicks, hisses, crackles and other sounds was all that his conversation with the rest of his team amounted too. They had engeaged in combat, de-activating a few turrets and eliminated a few gunner teams, with no casualties. Acknowledging them, he quickly switched to his feline companion.
"Claire, located Markarov. Sending coordinates to you now."
Markarov was on bottom floor now, moving out of the building. Arkoss could not tell if there was anyone accompanying him, but he seemed to be moving towards a smaller structure, one that according to the intercepted transmission, was an escape route of sorts.
Wasting no time, he left the room and went for the nearest window, leaping out and pursuing Markarov, who was only a few meters from a side-entrance to the structure. He told his team to carry on sabotaging the command center's defences.
As he closed in on the general, apparently not in his suit of powered armour according to his scans, but just out his sight (he was following Markarov basically with little more than a circular-shaped icon over his HUD determining the general's position), he scanned the area using a special vision mode, one that outlined the forms of any nearby allies with green lines, noticing the outline of Sorvaille within the building. He immediately opened up her comm-channel.
"Sorvaille, VIP moving towards your position. Un-armoured and no bodyguards detected, but he may have allies in hiding. Cut him off!"
++++++++++
A sudden crashing sound, ridiculously loud and interrupting, broke out over the sound of the the funebraran attack.
Heads turned and cameras zeroed in on the source. For some, it was a morale raising boost, one that turned raging fire into an inferno. For others, it was a sign of their doom and impending loss.
Contrary to popular belief promoted by video games, action films, historical revisionism and cultural stereotyping, the Funebrarans were not a "swarm" army. They did not overwhelm their enemies with raw numbers. And they did not number in the trillions. Their philosophy of war put an emphasis on maximum destruction and efficiency using the lowest amounts of personnel. Even as the tides of battle turned, they were still outnumbered seven to one, yet the humungous bio-titan might as well have counted for a whoel battallion.
Gun emplacements suddenly switched from the enemy infantry to the beast, doubling their fire rate and sending a storm of blue flashes. Over a hundred targeting systems locked onto the massive crustacean and immediately filled the air with the smoky trails of their ammunition. Volkains, hexa-tanks and M.S.P.'s unleashed devastation composed both of energy and solid munitions.
None of this was enough to stop the enormous creature and its support groups.
A thunder-like crack signified the firing of the five-barreled cannons mounted on the underside of its claws. The spread of the shots was immense but its effect was terrifying. Whole groups of infantry suddenly dissappeared in flashes of green and red while buildings were torn open as the spread simply ripped through it. Vehicles staggered under the immense force and a few M.S.P.'s and volkains were literally toppled over by the immense force. The chemical compounds from the cannons' shells were a gaseous compound found in a sort of plant on the hive ships, one that carried more explosive power than a variety of less organic and more synthetic chemicals.
Rocket pods suddenly discharged, with each propelled explosive picking a different target. Defensive lines and makeshift bunkers went up in expanding infernos as the raging sound and force of their explosions sent disarray amongst Markarov's forces. The cacophony grew louder as reverbrating thuds signified the massive and flaming husks of the towering mecha, machines that had been standing strong and proud, crashing to the ground. Now they were little more than burning caskets with massive craters where thick plating once was.
With the enemy taken aback, the terrifying creature moved forward, far ahead of its support group. The pleurodelinains were utterly shocked; something of such great mass should not be able to outrun an M.S.P., one that it gripped in a single claw and bore down with its immense grip. The crew of the vehicle and those of supporting forces fired upon its elbow joints, hoping to break its death-grip, but in less than a minute, the platform was shorn in half with a jarring, grinding crunch. The two volkains that had been closest to it, attempting to hit it from behind, stood even less of a chance. In one violent motion, it turned around and unleashed its raw force. One massve claw flew forth and suddenly was jutting out of the back of the closer of the two. The survivor attempted to pull a daring attack, sending its energy-emanating claw towards its far larger opponent. Yet all it took to counter this was a claw of its own, one that batted the volkain's away and gripped onto its upper torso. A loud thunder-roar sounded and suddenly the volkain was missing its entire upper body.
More and more fell to its merciless onslaught, sometimes picked apart personally by the beast as if it was considering consuming its targets. Building, trooper, turret, and machine alike could not even slow its advance.
It was quite clear that the Pleurodelinains had already lost this fight.Only the command center remained as their only stronghold, one that would not last for much longer.
When her work on the rooftops was finished, Claire's small form drifted to the ground from a staircase, landing on her feet like all cats did. She did, however, stumble to her knees for a second due to the wounds... With no time to swear at her body parts, she darted from the building that was about to collapse and put as much distance between herself and the battlefield as she could.
Fortunately, she learned that Markov was trying to exit the battlefield as well! As much fun as she was having, this adventure was tiring her out. There was lots of rubble in her hair, blood squishing in between her toes, dirt all over her skin... She always did prefer the more natural environments that only had trees and waterfalls, like her home planet. It was much easier on her body, after all.
"I'm on it." She replied to Arkoss.
After checking the status of her weapon, she rushed where she anticipated Markov to be, running into unwanted obstacles along the way. As her foes ran in her direction, she skidded across the ground to stop and ducked a fist that was heading for her skull. She needed more distance for her multi-strike weapon to be successful; she was being surrounded. After a deep breath, she jumped into the air once more, landing clumsily on her rear after withdrawing her weapon. With haste, she turned around and fired, watching several beams hit the targets. She didn't care if they were dead or not; she went ahead and ran to where she needed to be. Markov needed to be stopped!
---
Sorvaille was paying close attention to Sefu as he briefly explained himself, her eyes warily on the claws when he displayed them. She could be compassionate for the fellow... He was born to be nothing more than a tool for destruction and he was wise enough to escape with something else in mind.
She nodded to him and said, "Very well, comrade... I thank you for the valuable information."
He had given her some directions and seemed trustworthy. She signaled for her team to begin running in the direction of Markov so that he would be cut off as Arkoss instructed. "Move, move, move!" Her group of fellow Funebaran ran swiftly like their previous leader, Claire.
Sorvaille began following close behind them, gesturing for Sefu to come with them. 'Commander will know what to do with him...'
The Meinhardt's and TCS deploy advanced forces in order to cut off Markarov - something unannounced to the 13th.
Far above the chaotic battle below, hanging in the silence of space, a TCS drop cruiser monitored the battle far below. It's sensors probed out from it's armored hull, watching the battle unfold below. It watched the funebarans roll over pleurodelinain lines and drive them backwards; it watched with surprise as the gun-runners joined the 13th in battle; and it watched the casters be brought down and their 13th's biggest weapon join the fray. But none of this is what it was waiting for. Instead, only after Markarov had begun his attempt to make his escape did it finally take note – and even then, it was not until it was alerted by an agent on the ground. The second they got the notification, the insides of the ship exploded into controlled chaos. Personnel and equipment moved from their waiting areas to the deployment zones, suiting up and preparing for their drop into the chaos below.
At the far end of the cruiser's hanger, Korbinian and Leone sat in silence, all ready locked into their STRYKER units. As the others had waited for the go-ahead on preparing for combat, Korbinian and Leone had spent the last few hours ensuring the STRYKERs were ready for combat, as well as loading all the ammunition and weapon systems themselves. A plasma projector rifle was strapped across Korbinian's back – besides him, Leone's STRYKER MkIII bristled with enough weapons to rival a small armored division. No words were spoken between the two – there was no need for that, with how close they were, and no precombat ritual for them to engage in. The noise from the pilots and operators preparing for drop around them went dropped to a dull roar in the background as they sealed themselves into the suits, hands sliding into the arms and gripping controls. The units fired up, engines screaming into life as their HUDs came online. Everyone in the hanger was marked with a green diamond – all friendlies.
"Ready." "Ready."
Both spoke in absolute unison, sending a shiver down the spine of the drop officer as he listened. Callbacks from the other units came in – both the ships power armor and mech units were ready for hot drop. The drop officer cued the mic, hand resting over the master launch command. "All units, prepare for orbital insertion! You know your orders – TCS reinforcements will be coming in due time. Enjoy the ride down, gentlemen." He ignored the protests from the few ladies on board and keyed the launch command. With a noise like rolling thunder, the pods launched out of the cruiser in a staggered launch all down the hull of the ship. The Meinhardts were out last.
On the planet below, the battle continued to rage on when the droppods announced their presence. They cracked through the sky, each one going well over the speed of sound on it's descent. From a distance, the pods almost resembled ortillery, white streaks connecting sky and ground for a moment before they impacted. Impact for each pod sent a small mountain of dirt and rocks cascading into the air, raining down on the pods and those unlucky enough to be nearby to them. Weapons fire began to streak in on the pods even before the cargo was out in some cases, TCS personnel and machinery dying before they could even return fire. Moments after the impact, the massive doors on the pods blew out, scattering in all directions from explosive charges rigged on the inside, and powered armored soldiers and mecha rolled out in force.
Just as Markarov reached the side entrance of his escape building, two drop pods impacted the very same structure. The effect was as if it had been nailed by artillery fire, sending concrete and steel flying into the air for meters around. Nearby, bodyguards in commander suits revealed themselves from their hiding positions, reacting to the new threat. If anyone had survived the drop, they seemed to be taking their time in coming out of the building. Cautiously, the bodyguards – four in all – approached the damaged building. Their curiosity on if anyone had survived was answered with a bang. Four missile pods streaked straight up and out of the hole caused by the entrance of the drop pods into the building, each one scattering at the apex of their short flight, swiftly followed by the micro-missiles raining down on the bodyguards below. The wall of the building came crashing out at the same moment the missiles struck, giving Korbinian and Leone the precious moments of cover they needed to engage. Korbinian thudded forwards out of the rubble at a full sprint, throwing himself at the nearest bodyguard, while Leone's pulse gattling swung out from her back, unfolding to fit the handle neatly into the STRYKER's hand. The gattling spun to life a moment later, a high pitched whine announcing the deadly hail of magnet-driven armor piercing rounds from the weapon. Three of the bodyguards gave ground before the onslaught of bullets overpowered their shields, but the fourth wasn't so lucky.
Korbinian crashed into him like a freight train impacting a semi-truck. With a tremendous noise, the two went head over heels to the ground, tumbling in a mess of dirt and power armor. Powered fists exchanged blows, hitting with enough force to crack armor and damage internal organs. Both were bleeding when the bodyguard went for his sword, giving Korbinian the opening he needed. Korbinian ducked back as the guard stabbed upwards, blade slicing straight through the armor on his left arm and penetrating all the way through. Before he could capitalize on it, Korbinian's fist and armored plate rocketed down into the helmet of his opponent – and engaged the shield generator. With his own shields blown out at this point, nothing was there to protect him from the shield as it came online, neatly bisecting his head in two. Korbinian pulled back from the corpse, quickly retreating to Leone's position with the sword still through his arm. Not giving any thought on pulling it out, he hunkered down before his sister and let the shields on his armplates go live, giving them both cover from the scattered return fire of the bodyguards. Leone had taken a few hits, but none had yet to penetrate her armor – and with Korbinian's shield in place, none would. However, both realized they would be unable to defeat the bodyguards alone. Markarov - a red triangle on their HUD - was spotted retreating and attempting to get around them at the same time markers for friendly forces from the 13th were moving in. They would need that backup if they wanted to secure the VIP. Their voices cut into the commnet in complete unison, broadcasting to the TCS and the Funebaran 13th.
"Requesting assistance. Pinned down by commander units, unable to pursue VIP." "Requesting assistance. Pinned down by commander units, unable to pursue VIP."
Irwin sat in a concealed position half a mile from the battle, his chameleon skin camouflaging his motionless body. Slowly the bony structure on his right should began to unfurl, and extend to it's full six foot length, the tumors along it's sides also swelled and opened, revealing a pair of pupil-less violet eyes. the bone twitched and re-aligned itself before locking on a single position
"Meinhardt this is Murphy, assistance is on it's way, over"
He replied over the Bio-Comms, not that he needed them to know what was going on. his armor's senses were more than enough to feed him all the info he needed. Right now though his attention was focused on the twins, pinned down by multiple opponents, he leveled his Casting Cannon at the first Bodyguard and fired, the explosion from the discharge echoing for hundreds of meters around before a second explosion tore it's victim in half, an instant later two more Bodyguards fell in a similar fashion their limbs blown far from the rest of their body
"Meinhardt this is Murphy, Hostlies cler go ahead and Pursue the VIP Murphy Out"
The AMV Revanant slowed and came to a stop over the battle. Captain Sikaris, looked at his console as requests from funebraran ground forces flooded the communication channels. "we have over two hundred direct contacts from the ground sir" his communications officer's voice came through his headset" approximately fifteen requests for evac, one hundred eighty requests for airsupport, and twentytwo requests for reinforcements." Sikaris sighed, he needed to find Schvensson, he didn't have time to deal with the small stuff. of all the situations to find the 13th he had to get here during a battle. "have we gotten a hold of the commander?' Sikaris asked " no sir we have not been able to contact Arkoss Schvensson or any other high ranking officers, it is possible that the commander is not capable of retrieving communications right now, or cannot return contact at the moment." Sikaris struck at his console only for his hand to go through the holographic display and hit his leg. "alright lets see what we can do to help here, deploy our shuttles to help those who requested evac, launch our aircraft and follow up on those bombing runs." The console glowed earily blue in the darkness of the Revanant's bridge, Sikaris watched a map of the area outlining the entire battle, The Revanant in the middle, small pinpoints of light began to leave the ship and head for their individual destinations.
Sikaris went into a kind of trance watchin the image, until he was interupted by his communications officer " we are getting a high priority message, from an unknown TSC source." Sikaris opened a file on his console and looked at the information, and listened to the message. Sikaris stiffened , and spoke into the microphone of his headset, lieutennant emari, move the ship to the coordinates I am giving you, Lieutennant ceran prepare to broadcast a message on open TSC channels" Sikaris then opened the communication channel the officer set up for him "Meinhardt this is Revanant we are on the way and will assist in extraction, repeat we are on our way, ETA thee minutes."
"Oh shit... Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..." Mondegreen swore as the radar picked up incoming contacts, all marked as TSC forces. "Bossman, TSC in the area, we gotta move!"
"Shit..." Hayden swore then brought up his SMFD. "Alright, everybody, check your SMFDs for egress points. Mondegreen, I'm marking an LZ for recovery, do not be late." Mondegreen saw the data come up on his console in the Ruination's Combat Information Center. Medvedev finished impaling another Hexapod tank's turret and firing a particle beam into it as the data came in.
"Medvedev, let's go! Pop smoke and bug out!" Wylder shouted at him as she flipped a few switches on her own console. The Acro fired off several rounds of chaff from dispensers on the shoulders. Medvedev followed suite, firing smoke grenades off before turning and firing his boosters off. Both mecha headed South then would turn to rendezvous with Uralia and Del Toro in the Peregrinus. Hayden's team ran up the ramps of their Bloodhound APCs, Etranzi carrying Fat Mike's corpse over her shoulders.
The Raptors didn't like leaving any one behind, dead or alive. It was partially for practicality as it wouldn't do to let the gear be captured but also because not all enemies give the dead proper burials.
"Alright, let's go, let's go!" Hayden shouted as the APC ramp closed. The two Bloodhounds and the Wraith popped smoke and chaff before speeding off to their own LZ. "Mondegreen, you better not make yourself a sitting duck up there."
"On it..." Mondegreen replied. Up topside several Distraction type decoys were fired off, one of which projected a holomatter image of the Ruination, the actual frigate turning away at flank speed to egress. "Bossman, we're en route to the first LZ to pick up Medvedev, Wylder, Uralia, and Del Toro. After that we'll pick you up then we'll pick up our arty."
"Copy that, Mondegreen. Pop chaff and decoys as needed." Hayden replied. He looked to Fat Mike's corpse, Etranzi stripping his body of ammunition and other equipment. "See you later, buddy... Save a seat for us in Hell's Tavern." Hayden then keyed his radio to the signal they had pirated.
"Hey Client, you there? Listen, next time you need us, use ATWS Frequency 180.52. That's an ArmsTek channel and completely secure."
Arkoss captures the rogue general Markarov, but while this happens, the T.S.C.'s forces swoop in and proceed to assist in eliminating the survivng enemy resistance. They seem anxious and rushed, attempting to inspect and seemingly capture the facility A.S.A.P. After saying his goodbyes to Hayden, Arkoss goes off to see what the T.S.C. commanders on the scene can tell him, but not before asking captain Sikaris if he knows what's up.
Taking advantage of the now dismembered bodyguards, Arkoss closed in. His smooth run was abruptly accelerated, and his looming shape, for a few seconds, seemed to become a shadow-like flash of movement, the type often seen in the corner of the eyes, only now it was out in the open, with streaks of red and gold across its form.
Markarov ran, attempting to bypass the two strykers before they could unfurl, but Arkoss' movement speed would ensured his capture. Just as he was turning around their sides, he was nearly swept off his feet. An open palm with six carapace-armoured, almost claw-like fingers had gripped onto his collar. It pressed down and almost shoved the general's face into the dirt. The general at his full height would only come up to the mid-section of Arkoss' chest and while he was strong for his kind, without his powered armour, he could not hope to match a funebraran's strength.
The general grabbed his fingers with his suit-encased hands, attempting to wrest them free. He twisted and thrashed, but to no avail. One hand seemed to extend in front of him, and Arkoss could hear that sound, that tingling, shimmering sound of a weapon being materialized from a deconstructor.
Before Markarov could finish reconstructing the weapon, both his arms were suddenly yanked back by a second pair of arms. They seemed to burst out of Arkoss' upper body, as if there was some massive insectoid inside of him that had suddenly broken out of its bonds. Like multi-jointed legs of a spider, they suddenly darted forth. Their pointed ends seemed to split, breaking into ten-digit "hands" capable of delicate manipulation, although their grip upon the general was far from kind.
The pistol was ripped from his hands, harmlessly discharging into a wall, and flung off into the distance. His two grabbed the general's and while the more beastly ones took an object from his belt; a sort of wiry shape, looking like some large millipede, only made of metal. Applying to the struggling general's arms, he was bound in no time. A short message was spoken into his ear-piece from the apparently very altruistic gun-runner.
"Hey Client, you there? Listen, next time you need us, use ATWS Frequency 180.52. That's an ArmsTek channel and completely secure."
As all of this was happening, T.S.C. drop ships and hover-fighters flew over the mining facility, firing at the few remaining enemy soldiers that still fought back, blowing holes into the command center. They had removed a large chunk out of the besieged building, destroying a makeshift machine gun emplacement and most of its left frontal section. Arkoss could hear some frantic chatter over his com, indicating that they had come a bit too close to hitting the funebraran squad that was still inside.
Most of the Pleurodinains were now surrendering in droves, holding up their arms and exiting their vehicles.
All around, human soldiers dropped from hovering drop ships, rapelling down, using grav-jets to slow their descent, or in some cases, floating down slowly, glowing as they channeled through themselves the power of the othyrworld. Their smooth, plate-like armour was recognizable anywhere. Mostly silver, with blue visors and certain plates and segments inbetween coloured green, they seemed to stick out like candles in the dark against the gathered, dark-coloured Funebrarans assault troops. A variety of weaponry, some conventional and some exotic were unleashed upon the whatever enemies still resisted. Occasional bursts of plasma, bladed disks, and bullets did their grim task; a few stubborn snipers, isolated group of infantry performing their last stands, and commanders who struggled to the bitter end were disintegrated, sliced in half, and filled with holes. A few of these executions were committed with close-combat weaponry; large serrated knives and larger menacing two-handed swords whose blades crackled with strange, mysterious energies. Even great axes that looked almost like they were made of gears with their glistening, multi-toothed blades found their mark and split both steel and amphibian flesh.
Alongside the humans were far stranger creatures. Globular in shape, these entities seemed to be made of metallic pseudo-ring like shapes put over spheres of glowing blue energy. At the centers of their mass were organs that seemed to be both their cores and their eyes. Within the boundaries of their spherical forms, shapes seemed to float around, as if they were in water or were planets orbiting the sun-like shape that was their center. Some of these shapes were artificial implants, while other looked more like modified and detached bits of the strange solid bone-like material that comprised their limbs. The equivalents of hands, arms, feelers, and other adaptations for manipulating the world aroun them floated detachedly. While they seemed to be made of bone, laced through it were artificial strengthening metals, and likely cybernetics. Energies, sometimes different in colour from the type that filled their bodies, seem to travel through it, somewhat like electricity, somewhat like a liquid. They gestured here and there, occasionally holding some sort of energy-channeling device; weaponry. Solid rings seemed to be attached to them as well, occasionally ejecting bursts of energy whose color depended on the colour of the creature itself.
Many of them seemed almost supernatural in how they fought. Long, thin beams of raw energy were fired from circular symbols that seemed to form over their bodies. Incredibly accurate, they varied in colour but all burnt through pleurodelinain armour with little trouble. Some seemed to have disks floating within them. The center of these devices seemed like soulessly staring eyes, usually a different colour from the spherid it was within, such as bright green or purple. These disks would suddenly snap around, their lifeless gazes falling upon potential targets. Ethreal sounds signified their effects; fat, thick streams of energy, as if their standard symbol-beams had suddenly been increased in size, or swarms of projectiles. These projectiles seemed almost like swarms, yet the individual shapes were like serpents or even tad-poles, flying forth like missiles. Sometimes a whole swarm of them would hit a single target, other times they'd split up and hammer an entire group.
Yet what was most awe-inspiring was their channeling abilities. Their bone-like arms raised at odd angles relative to their floating globular forms, they seemed to send forth storms of unearthly radiating wrath, with long lightning-like blasts of energy, breaking off at seemingly random angles, arched through survivors, making them twitch and twist, before their smoking bodies, still glowing slightly, fell to the ground. Other times, the spherids would flash, growing brighter in intensity, as they formed shapes with their limbs, as if trying to use their odd digit and arms to focus their vision. A quick moving shape, almost too fast to be seen, would then travel across the space between one and its target, who would suddenly be blasted bck, seemingly igniting as a hyper-accelerated energy projectile made its mark.
Something was wrong though, every funbebraran could tell. As a few friendly forces came in to watch over the captured general, who stopped struggling and became still, Arkoss left and walked into the open of the now finished conflict. His own soldiers and their massive crustacean support unit felt it as well. They all knew this was to have been only their mission; the joint command group had literally reminded them of that a few hours ago. Yet it seemed they were anxious and hurried. More drop-ships were arriving and the troops already on the ground (or hovering above it) quickly started entering every building, inspecting them sharply. More and more high-level generals, lieutenants, war chiefs, tribe leaders and so on of the various races that made up the power elite of the T.S.C. began to flood in, almost looking like tourists watching the new displays of a recently opened museum.
Arkoss immediately began to move in on one of these groups. The 13th began to relax a little, yet he could feel it in the air; they knew that something had been changed, something hadn't been explained, and that this base was clearily more important than they were being told it was.
Moving through the assorted command staff, he shot up a quick message to Revenant.
"Care to explain, Sikaris? I thought this was a simple search and destroy mission, not a land grab."
Sefu briefly wondered if he would have been better off if he hadn't escaped, but quickly threw off the thought. Instead, he took a deep breath and hid himself among the Funebraran infantry, wedged up against what used to be a solid wall. He surreptitiously checked his assault rifle - he still only had the one magazine, but if it came down to it, he was going to take as many TSC troopers with him as he could. If they tried to take him alive...well, he had a pistol.
"You." A voice like a sandstorm broke him out of his dark thoughts. "Follow me. Do not ask questions."
Sefu turned to the voice, but its bearer was already moving away. A tall, red-and-grey myriapod Funebraran wearing what appeared to be a greatcoat of some kind and a vaguely sinister variant on the wheel cap moved purposefully away from the drop ships; the massed infantry melted around him without impeding his movement.
Sikaris was releaved to finally get ahold of Arkoss, "commander, I think you will understand that I am not here on TSC buisiness, I am here on orders of the Alarian senate, I have a message for you. oh and those TSC troops are not my men, My men are mostly assisting your more heavily hit units." Sikaris sat back in his chair and breathed deeply, I think we can talk when we are in private, until then myself, my ship , and my crew are at your command.
Confronting General Cormack, Arkoss attempts to discover why the T.S.C., without any prior notification, suddenly sent in such a large force. Unable to obtain anything useful from the human general, he speaks to Edau Markarov. While he does not reveal too much, he makes it clear that the war is being fought for questionable reasons related to the construction of weaponry and that Columbia 4 is not the only world in t he Helios system with secrets to keep.
Arkoss continued pushing through the assorted multi-racial groups of engineers, researchers, and commanders. Sikaris' words surprised him greatly. It was odd that he'd suddenly gain this much additional firepower and resources. Ignoring questions from some krydeonin engineers as to what his business was here, he strode past them, approaching a human lieutenant, clad in power armour, arguing with Sorvaille. A few spherids floated around them, watching intently. The lieutenant, a balding and slightly tanned man, beyond his youth yet not yet settled into middle age, who had hints of a vein popping around his head, pointing a finger at Sorvaille, shouting in a sort of accented and drawling speech. He'd heard it before; this is what they called a "Southern" way of speaking on humanity's home-planet.
"Well maybe next time you send your own men into the largest standing target on the battlefield and fail to make contact with us when we come in here big damn heroes and all, you better damn tell us first!"
Sorvaille simply stood her ground, standing just as tall and clad in her customized suit of powered armour. It was very smooth in design like riverside stones, yet its layers and small bulkheads lent to it the appearence of some sort of streamlined insect. The helmet had been retracted and her face, almost like an elegant mask, was now turned into a look of distrust and disgust. She simply raised her head, looking him in the eyes. Her voice, unwavering and husky, spat right back at him.
"Don't procedures in this type of combat situation require clearance from on ground forces before engaging a hostile structure already under attack? Next time think first rather than jumping the shark."
The lieutenant's brows seemed to furrow and he took a step forward, yet his eyes suddenly darted away from her. The spherids watching had suddenly turned, their gaze now upon Arkoss Schvensson, seeming like a giant made of a metal and chitin. Sorvaille's facial expression remained unchanged, her dark blue eyes retaining their gaze. Arkoss' helmet had also been retracted, and the lieutenant looked spooked under the alien and foreboding gazes of the two aliens. He trilled a few sounds to her: don't worry about it; he's not worth your time.
Sorvaille nodded and turned and left, returning a group of black-clad commissar like funebraran officers that were standing at the outskirts of the assorted group of specialists and higher ups. Turning back to the soldier, taken aback by the sudden appearence of a far more sinister looking member of the arthropod race collective, he seemed to stumble around with this thoughts before arranging them into speech."Ge-general, I apologize for any-" "It's voivod, lieutenant. I'm not here to talk about matters of protocol. You happen to know where a certain general-"
Arkoss didn't finish his question. The buzz-hums of the two spherids, forming a strange salute with their bone-arms, announced the arrival of the man he was looking for. The general spoke, his voice worn with age and war. The accent seemed halfway between the ones associated with that of the higher-level nation states of their home world, "Britain" and "Canada."
"Right here, Arkoss."
While taller than most men, Solomon Dohyvenhyer Cormack was still not as a tall as these towering insectoids. A wall of badges adorned the right side of his chest. His dark green general's outfit exuded a feel of raw authority. A weathered, clean shaven face spoke experience. The five stars on his shoulders and his hat really completed the image. Like reeds, the assorted crowd parted before him, with the mere sight of his decorated camo-pattern blue and green uniform splitting them into two sides. He stopped right in front of Arkoss, looking up to his armoured, four-eyed face, an expression showing slight signs of a smile on the corner's of his mouth. At the age of roughly 51, he was one of the most renowned and respected leaders of the Trans-Space Coalition's military and was said to have a reasonable level of pull outside of it. His face, rough in the way an old statue was eroded by the passing of time, simply looked up at his fellow commander. It wasn't the look of a man who saw a confrontation of clashing views, but rather one of a friend. Cormack had helped Arkoss out when he returned to the Nomad Hive Fleet alone and Arkoss knew that he was more understanding of them than most other authorities.
Arkoss sighed and leaned against a large bundled collection of military-issue cargo containers, arms folded, as Solomon looked on, simply waiting."Your help is appreciated, but when we spoke, nothing was given to even hint at what you've just done."
"I understand, but there was a last minute change an hour after your deployment."
Arkoss moved off the crates and rolled his eyes, looking away."There seems to be an intel asymmetry here. You could have informed us."
Cormack's spoke like a man attempting to forcefully reveal the secrets of another, locking sight with Schvensson, the type of look that demanded answers. "I could ask the same to you concerning your new impromptu allies. Those soldiers that joined yours and the destruction of the arch-casters, not exactly a native rebel army or one of your so-called orphan battalions, were they?"
"They were the air support we didn't have. Their assistance was essential. Perhaps they're bastards, perhaps they're saints. The fact is that they were pointing their weaponry at them, not us."
Arkoss looked at him suspiciously, before stealing a glance at the increasing number of non-combat personnel. Scientists and technicians seemed to be increasing in number, like a sudden influx of flies. He spoke, his voice kept down yet its tone almost accusatory."Friends of yours, Solomon? You must have been rather close if you came this prepared and eager to greet them; quite the improvised welcoming comittee you have assembled."
"Arkoss, those mercs had nothing to do with this and I would like it if they had nothing else to do with you." The aged general was noticeably frustrated in his voice. It was not hard to tell he didn't want to be elaborating. Not too far from where they were talking, a few other persons of importance, some dressed in military fatigues, others in combat attire, simply waited, listening closely.
"If you want the official explanation, then fine, we couldn't risk communications being intercepted." said Cormack, impatient and reluctant to continue.
"You know I'm not buying that."
Cormack walked up to Arkoss and replied roughly and quickly. The assembled group were growing increasingly patient, with whispers running through their ranks and looks of disapproval aimed towards both commanders.
"Dammit, you know what it's been like. Almost half of us just wanted to leave the damn place to be and deploy you to Membros already, but the other half specifically wanted you for whoever-knows why amongst others. Izilleid wanted the deal done already, claiming you were too slow. Kyelvaldo believed that the mercenaries were under the employ of local dissidents and figured we were to join in and save the damn day from the great hidden evil. Ataraxus wanted to just start the second part of cleaning up in the aftermath of this planet's political fallout already, and-"
"You've done your part, insectoid. I believe it is time for you and your kind to depart. You have finished your work, now let us finish ours."
The voice seems to reverberate "within" itself and had a almost a sneering quality to it. The entity from which it emerged was far from human. Inbetween the two conflicting leaders in terms of height, it was not really biological either. It had a sloped, angular, mouth-less, mask-like face also devoid of a nose. It looked at him a cluster of glowing spots beneath an almost dome-like natural rock structure, transparent and glass like, seemingly where its eyes and upper head should have been. It wore an expensive suit that seemed to form a mix between the ceremonial and the formal. White blue in a way that seemed to create a sort of vague blade-motif, parts of it flowed almost like a cape while others seemed still and similar to some sort of brightly-coloured business suit.
Arkoss knew of this type of species, having met and sometimes slain them in his past as a mercenary. They were usually mercenaries, but this was the first time he had seen a tierrodan in a non-martial position. They were actually a sort of advanced moss that had elements of tough natural formations, especially rocks, as a part of their biology. There was soft flesh underneath and sometimes they looked more fleshy than boulder-like, but most of the time, they were clad in their shining, seemingly spotless, pristine white-red armour. It was often a mixture of the artificial and the natural; expert craftsmanship fusing with sometimes naturally modified bodies. They were known for wielding simple yet long, elegant blades.
The rock-like being said nothing else, simply looking at Arkoss, the glowing areas beneath the mask seemingly implying a death glare.
Wordlessly, Arkoss turned and left. Around him, a variety of odd insectoid noises were made as the the 13th's forces began separating themselves from the great crowd. The massive crab, who for the most part had just stood and looked around confusedly at the arrival of the TSC forces, turned around and started walking off into the distance, approaching a large transport vessel.
The rest of the Funebraran soldiers approach a variety of other flight-capable machines. Large, flying, multi-winged centipedes and beetles stand ready for lift off alongside multi-legged, jagged-looking craft, designed with an eerily insectoid flair.
It would take some time to load up all of his forces.
++++++++++
Arkoss and a few others stayed behind. There's one more thing he has to do before he can leave.
He'd found general Edau Markarov around a few commanding officers, mostly human and another tierrodan, this one seemingly having attached and integrated the silver and blue armour plating of the Coalition's forces unto itself. They looked at him, unsure of why he was here. Pointing at Markarov, who was sitting in the back, hands not cuffed, he told them that he simply needed a word, in private.
A few reminders of his authority later and he had taken Markarov from their custody. The general didn't show any hostility or attempt to escape as they walked off. A few soldiers milled around them, but wanting privacy, he motioned off to a small bunker-like building, partially smashed open by the claws of the large, departed crab. The room was rather dusty, a few sparks spitting out from wrecked computers, but the table and chairs would do. They both took spots at opposite ends, free from the prying glances of the T.S.C. forces and whatever Funebrarans were still left.
He motioned towards a chair at one end of a square table, taking his spot on the one opposite to the general. As they sat down, Arkoss leaned forward and spoke.
"This area isn't exactly of much tactical, economic, or morale-related worth, Markarov."
The general didn't reply. He looked forward with a blank facial expression.
"There's something else you wanted though, isn't there? I doubt it was power; I read up on you in the past. You're no tyrant and not one to act on impulse."
"It's quite clear Cormack and his band of merry generals knew that, Funebraran."
Markarov's voice was not terribly loud. Visually, his mouth barely seemed to move. It seemed as if he calculated his formal, undemanding, and calm voice to be at the minimum level to be heard.
"This is a rather poorly done attempt to ruin your reputation then."
"My reputation? You should know that I've worked alongside them in the past. I've been in their good hands for a while and our people in theirs, ever since I was given my now-removed position."
"A while ended months ago."
"A solid conjecture. You don't really trust them either."
The formality began to decrease in his speech, while the volume began to rise. It wasn't quite loud enough to be assertive, but it seemed as if the general was attempting to tell Arkoss something important without actually saying it.
"I'm Funebraran; I haven't trusted them since the first time we started winning their wars for them."
"As should anyone, friend or enemy. Odd isn't it? I wonder how many of you understand how reliant their economy is upon your people's victories."
"I ended wars, Markarov. I understand they weren't always fought and started for the best of reasons, but I did what I could to end the suffering as fast as I could."
"How many of the wars that you ended simply laid down the foundations for even more to start? How many of them even had winners who weren't your employers or even victors in the first place?"
Arkoss paused, leaning his head on his elbow and sighed. Markarov was sharp, yet he spoke not with vitriol or polemic, but rather realization. The universe was a cruel place.
"I never hated your people, Funebraran. If anything, I always hoped that one day we could help them and learn to understand one another better."
"I appreciate it general, but we're not here to discuss improbable future endeavours. The joint command normally wouldn't even see what you did here as even a minor historical footnote. What did you piss them off with?"
"A conflict of interest, that's all," stated Markarov very mater-of-fact-like. "I wanted the facility, but they wanted it as well. I said 'no', then they said 'funebrarum'."
A smirk appeared on both their faces. Arkoss could not deny that Markarov was a very brave, if somewhat aloof, man. He knew of whole systems that were simply kept in order with the threat of the War Swarms. Fading the smile away from his face, he faced the general again.
"Ad-hominem and smear campaigns within the parliament usually are supposed to take care of those. Back alleys with black ops and silenced weaponry work as well."
"Alternatively, with hired guns."
"How many hired guns look for the truth behind what they fight for?"
The newt-man's head raised, new looking at Arkoss face to face.
"I'll give you that; you are the first I've encountered to think in such a way. You seem to be forgetting something; the very weapons we arm ourselves with, awfully bright tinge of blue today rather than the green they normally are...weren't they?"
"Just like the rocks and vegetation here. The glowing veins aren't exactly coming off as the most natural thing I've seen in an ecosystem."
"They aren't, Funebraran. It's a part of why we're here, and why more than just the Trans-Space Coalition wants this compound."
Arkoss eyes furrowed and Markarov suddenly became incredibly tense. The atmosphere was thick, like a bomb about to explode, and each breath they took only made the next moment more unbearable.
"Business interests aren't anything new; attempting to weaponize natural elements isn't either."
"That's not what they're looking for; neither is that what the competition wants. There are forces outside of the Joint Command Group here."
A short pause broke the flow of the conversation, and the sound
"What's under this facility, Markarov? Who are the others?"
"Something that's best left out of almost anyone's hands, but perhaps not yours. This isn't something they just discovered a few months ago, Funebraran, and neither has it been a single planet. This goes far deeper and has going on far longer than you think, and don't think the natives are clueless either. The next world you're bound for, it will have answers, ones that I can't reveal for your safety."
"Cormack and the rest of the Joint Command Group, do they-"
Before Arkoss could finish, the familiar buzz-hum of a spherid interrupted him. Peering at them from the large, man-sized crack in the wall, a spherid soldier tapped on the some debris with a one of its lengthy arms. The dark blue eye at its core stared at Markrov, pointing at the amphibian. It motioned for him to follow it back.
The two leaders rose from their seats and walked towards the hole they had entered from. Arkoss went on ahead, but he suddenly fet something small and cold pressed into his hand, and saw Edau walking right over to his bodyguard. The Spherid did't notice this transaction, looking on ahead. It simply held Markarov by the shoulder, and the two left off towards a mass of gathered T.S.C. forces.
Looking into his left palm, he sees a small rectangular shape. It has a detachable cover near its top half, revealing a plug-in for certain computerized devices. Looking at the increasingly distant general, he notices him looking back at him.
As Markarov was halfway towards a group of waiting troops, he turned his head and looked at Arkoss. In spite of all he had revealed and all the violence that had ended just an hour ago, Markarov's expression was bold. He seemed hopeful and assertive. "Go forth, commander," his look seemed to say "I've reached the end of my road, but this is only the beginning of yours."
Calling forth the remaining 13th War Swarm forces, he left with them, towards an LZ further off into the woods.
Outro: Remnants of War by Helstar from Remnants Of War (1986)
Black horizons are wide and vast The winds of war blow cold Minutes of life so quickly flash Nothings left to be told From the sky a star will fall The seas will turn to dust No king or ruler shall stand tall Now who will you trust
Oh now where can you run What more can you do The shadows of death Are closing in on you
The end has now just begun Look for the rising sun Seek the holy one
As the final curtain falls your heart is split with pain You wonder how long before he's going to reign
The thunder roar The ruins fall Only desert land remains A living hell the earth transformed But will you go insane?
We put as much distance between ourselves and the TSC as possible. It doesn't do me any good to have a run in with them at all, especially since some of my benefactors aren't exactly good bedfellows with them.
ArmsTek Warfare Systems, Newport News Shipbuilding, Baath Iron Works, and Lockheed Martin don't have a good relation with the TSC. It probably stems from the fact that they went with member systems' defense contractors. It's also probably because like with the League of Nations prior to World War II the United Systems of America refused to join.
Same with the Soviets... You'd think the Cold War of the 20TH Century was still ongoing...
For now we're scheduled to moor up alongside the Royal Space Navy carrier, HMS Illustrious. We're going to transfer our dead over and pick their brig for new crew members.
After that is another alongside, this time with USNS Supply, a US Navy resupply ship. We expended minimal amounts of ammunition but it's good to have a full stock just in case.
"Bossman, got the Illustrious on visual." Mondegreen says as I drink my coffee. I look at the main screen and see the big carrier.
"Alright, I'll be going aboard. Get our fallen prepared for transit." It takes an hour to get alongside the Illustrious. Once their brow is across I start toward the British ship, Wylder and Medvedev in tow. The Brits have their quarterdeck manned up, Captain Davies standing by in crisp working whites.
"Welcome aboard, Hayden. I trust your operations were successful." he says to me with a crisp salute which I return. I respect Davies. He's a good man and trustworthy.
"And then some." I reply. Marlon and Brando have our fallen in caskets on hover pallets. "And we lost some people to. You mind getting them a proper burial?"
"Of course. It's only right." Davies replies to me. "Now, shall we see the brig?"
British brigs aren't anything like US Navy brigs. The Brits like to make their prisoners comfortable. Makes them more managable, complacent.
The US Navy, on the other hand, makes their prisoners as miserable as possible. The idea is to break them physically, emotionally, and mentally.
Although sometimes they're broken sexually too. It all depends on the MAs (Master at Arms) on duty. The prisoners here have their own miniature state rooms, regular meals, TV...
Bastards got more than I did in Boot Camp.
"Here's our first candidate." Davies says to me as we stop at one cell. I look inside. There's a man wearing black trousers, a grey shirt, and has his hair buzzed down to his scalp. "One Gregory Fulber."
"So what'd he do?"
"He's wanted by the TSC for seditious acts, subterfuge, acts of terrorism..."
"Murder, arson, and jaywalking..." I joke. "What are his skills?"
"He can win the hearts and minds of people, like that. If he can work the angle he can have a populace in the palm of his hands." Davies tells me.
"I'll take him... Who's next?" Davies takes me further into the brig to another cell. Inside is a rail thin man wearing white slacks and a white shirt.
"Thomas Mercer. Religious fanatic. Why the TSC wants him is beyond me." Davies explains. "The worst thing he's ever done is overdraw on a bank account."
"How is he as a fighter?"
"He was ex-SAS." That's all I need to know. "Do you think you can control them?"
"Fulber has beef with the TSC, that's for sure. As for Mercer, I'm sure Fulber can help him... see the light, as it were." I reply.
"Very well. We'll write up an incident report and post in the deck log stating that they died during a prisoner riot. The bounties will be taken down shortly thereafter." We seal the agreement with a handshake as a pair of Royal Navy MAs open the cells.
"Oi, whit's all 'is about? Yew fin'lly gonna pu' ae bullet in me 'ead?" Fulber demands.
"You're being sprung, my friend." I reply.
"Whit's a damn Yank doin' 'ere?"
"Excuse me but I'm Texan. I take offense to being called a yankee. And I'm your new boss." I say as Mercer is brought from his cell.
"Has my time come?" he asks.
"No. Consider this a second chance. The two of you will be integrated into my crew as operators and placed on the payroll."
"Nae shite? Yew really don' know who I am?"
"If you say 'I'm the Juggernaut, bitch' I will stomp a mudhole in you." He looks taken aback then grins.
"Yew go' balls, mate. Count me in." I turn to Mercer.
"I have not yet found redemption." he says to me.
"Then find it on the battlefield with me."
"The man 'as ae point, mate. I've found the only way ta feel alive is ta fight, tooth an' nail, fer yer life." Fulber says.
I like this guy already.
"Then you have my services." I clap my hands together and smile.
"Aright, we'll be on our way then. Captain Davies, thank you for your time." My new operators, Wylder, and Medvedev head over to the Ruination. I pause on the quarterdeck with Davies.
"Listen, Fulber is a dangerous man. If he turns on you..."
"You don't need to worry about that, Captain." I start. "ArmsTek has two more employees to transfer over. Control Elements, if you will."
"Very well then. Fair winds and following seas, Hayden." Davies and I exchange salutes and I walk back across the brow. A couple days later we rendezvous with the Supply. They replenish our food stores, munitions, and fuel stores. I'm on the quarterdeck signing off on the gear when one of the sailors walks up. He's wearing coveralls with grease splotches on them.
"You Hayden Earle Arcturus?" he asks.
"The one and only." I tell him. He then motions to someone out of sight.
Rather two someones. I hear the footfalls that sound like metal on metal and find myself faced with two, eight foot tall automatons.
"This is Norman 'Desolator' Lynch and Jean Pierre 'Lockjaw' Lafitte." the sailor says. "They're your problem now..."
"You better have whisky on board... Or bourbon..." Desolator says. He's big and built like a god damned tank.
"As long as he has de rum I will be happy." Lockjaw chimes in. In contrast to Desolator, Lockjaw is thin but no doubt no less powerful.
And he has cables on his head that look like dreadlocks.
"They're the control elements?" I ask the sailor. Desolator points right in my face.
"Hey, we're Control Authority, god dammit. Fuckin' fleshbags don't trust other fleshbags."
"Hey mon, don' be so hard on de new boss. He gonna be our source of alcohol." Lockjaw interjects. Desolator makes a noise I can only assume is grumbling, although it sounds more like metal grinding against metal.
"Fu-uck... Fine... But don't bunk me with any fleshbags... Ya'll sumbitches are cesspits..." Desolator snarls as he storms past me and to the Ruination.
"Don' mind him, bossman. He has a malfunctioning aggression inhibitor." Lockjaw tells me.
Somehow that doesn't make me feel better.
"Oi, whit's yer damage, lugnut!" I hear Fulber shout out.
Yeah, something tells me those two are going to be like oil and water...
"Can I go now, boss?" Lockjaw asks me.
"Yeah, you can go..."
I'm going to have to conference Chairman Radetsky... Seriously...
Commander Sikaris, walked into the observation deck located on the bottom front portion of the ship, the entire room was translucent, except for the roof and the frame that held the glass like material in place. The ship's xo was pacing rapidly.
"you wanted to see me?" Sikaris said.
"yes commander, I was just thinking about the state of the Revenant. we have accomplished several missions and yet she still isn't fully operational."
Sikaris sighed, at the mention of the familiar subject."The Revenant has performed beyond expectations for the two years she has been flying, just because the ship isn't fine tuned doesn't meen it won't operate exceptionally."
"Commander, The ship is half empty, fully outfitted we could hold a whole legion, and deploy them all in less than an hour. we only have three hundred soldiers and two hundred crew, and you know that most of our weapons are not operational."
"most of the weapon systems that you are referring to are highly experimental, and havn't even been tested before, hell the Magneton cannon is still theoretical, there has never been a working prototype, the parts we have to build one that are sitting in storage, most likely don't even work."
"commander, we are on an extremly important mission, the Revenant should be at one hundred percent, we need to be successful, The TSC needs to be shown some humility, and we are the only ones right now who can do this.'
"alright, I'll talk to Schvensson and see what he thinks we should do with the ship, I meen we could be a lot more than a troop transport."
"Mal you can't be serious" Sikaris was slightly taken back by the use of his first name, it was something that his xo only used when he thought Sikaris was making a bad descision."This is and Alarian ship, we know what it was designed to be we don't need to get those insects permission to make our ship what it needs to be."
Now Sikaris was getting angry, his xo's blatent use io insect as a derogitory term showed his contempt for the Funebrarans" First of all Executive Officer merix those "insects" are the whole reason this ship, which I know you care about, exists, and if I hear anymore of your racism I can make shure you are stationed somewhere else, second of all Those "insects" are in command, this ship is to be what ever they need it to be. If Commander Schvensson wants the revanant to be a troop carrier than she will be, if he wants her to be a medical ship, she will be, if he wants her transporting their waste she will!" Sikaris was angry now" our orders are to assist the Funebrarans in what ever they need, and I will not let you get in the way of what the Alarian senate specifacally chose me to do! Are we clear."
xo Merix nodded hios head and turned to leave. Sikaris stared out at the planet below and fumed. He walked to an intercom and signaled the commnunications console on the bridge.
"Orders Commander?" came a male voice.
"Get a hold of Commander Schvensson, I need to talk with him in private."
"yes commander right away"
Sikaris looked back out into space, his xo was going to be a problem, he knew that already, he didn't want to fail, this mission was so important to his poeple, he would be shure to keep an eye on Merix, he wouldn't let him get in his way.
