Well, they’d decimated the biomachine in a satisfying, cacophonous display of gunshots, fire, and explosive. One down, one to go. The clearer – and honestly annoyingly bossy – voice over the comms affirmed that the other construct should be put down before they’d lead it to the park. Sound advice, though with all the saying and no doing from the mysterious ally, Linus didn’t appreciate it as much as they otherwise might have.
Escaping through the burning forest as they were, getting to that other platform-esque machine wasn’t exactly easy though. Linus managed to weave between the trees with the occasional slight boost from ether – which they’d provide to the Reclaimer as well if she were near enough – until the Celaderaka had clear line of sight. At that point, they took a hold of their energy rifle and provided support fire. This weapon was capable of the longest range out of their arsenal, so it was the most appropriate. If so many of Linus’ allies hadn’t already congregated near the construct, they’d might have lobed another grenade at it, but as it was, they refrained.
Some of their allies looked a bit worse for wear, but at least they were all still eagerly going at it. Revenge was sweet, even if they were only able to destroy some of their enemies. But at least it would mean a nuisance, a financial cost, a failure of the enemy’s mission, and a warning to them what messing with Linus and co. would lead to. All in all, a tentative success for a party who was betrayed, ambushed, and had sent a vastly superior force against them. Of course, it would only be a true success if they wrecked this remaining construct, escaped to the park, and met with what Linus really hoped wasn’t another trap.
To fulfill that plan, Linus contributed to the hell they were all raining down upon the thing. Especially after that vrexul ally of theirs fired their Hellhammer at it. Now, that was helpful. With a hiss of triumph, Linus ramped up their rate of fire and coated their ammo in ether, so the impact would pact more of a punch. They were still careful with their aiming, since they didn’t want to hit any of the allies nearby. Despite that, they didn’t doubt their combined efforts would be enough to crush the biomachine. Then, the only thing to do would be to haul it to the park asap, before the forest burned around them and trapped them into the whole mess with the remaining enemies. Simple plan, perhaps a bit of a tricky execution, but nothing that should prove unconquerable.
Her strategy, if it could be called that, worked. Using every single mine may have been overkill, but it worked. They had one less problem to deal with. Corsica couldn't help but marvel at the how the flames danced on the trees. Truly, it was a powerful sight. One that caused her vocalizer to emit a faint, hoarse laugh.
There wasn't really much time to gawk at her work. She continued to run with Linus, the occasional boost from the ether causing her to oddly stumble. Not enough to trip, but enough to make her running disjointed as she accidentally took steps either too short or too long. Like a flash of light or loud crash, the sudden usage of ether only contributed to sensory overload. A slight distraction.
With Linus gaining line of sight, so too did Corsica. There wasn't actually much for Corsica to do besides shoot it. Such was the life of someone who specialized in dealing with biohazards; she could only perform in regular combat in a limited capacity. Besides her go-to plans of shoot, mine, and silicon-carbide blades, there wasn't really much strategy she could add. Under the request of another, she'd just try to fire some rounds at the target. Who knew, maybe they'd set the ground underfoot on fire and that'd mess something up. Though, her firing pace was much more relaxed than Linus'. The encroaching fires from the forest didn't pose much of a threat to Corsica. The plasma mortar certainly did, but she'd only die here if it was her fate to die.
Less like an advanced combat platform made from a fusion of synthetic biomass and shaped metallic armouring, the stomping gun-drone looked demonic, possessed by some horrific rage beyond what could simply be programmed into a machine. Its entire front had been gouged open by Zsresrinn’s hellhammer, somehow not triggering its protective energy field, and a mixture of intestinal tube-wiring and sparking electronics spat and glared like a bloodied, pouring eye. As the sect team ran it was no less savage, its bullets at first a wild spray of mag-accelerated rounds but as it neared its targets began to grow specific and a high-pitched whine, audible even over the buzz-roar of its heavy machine gun, made it clear it was still targeting the team for its mortar-wielding unztadtlige controller.
Like a hand wracked by traumatic tremors, its large gun jerked and swivelled on it its body as its two eye-stalks, now glowing an angry red, swept around for the retreating team. The gun itself used a separate targeting mechanism as Zsresrin would soon discover, pausing rigid to aim at their estimated centre of mass before letting fly a stream of bright gaseous light and armour shredding projectiles, identifying her by the faint cloud of supernatural particles but unable to get a direct lock on her thanks to the remnants of obfuscating evzredigor matter. It jerked away abruptly towards Linus, the residual energy on their body drawing its ire. It didn’t matter an entire half cracked APC was in the way – the rounds could be heard first clattering through its layers of armour before tearing it open like a pinata, intent on shredding the softer target.
Its weapon swivelled again as it charged, drawn by the sound of clinging metal and the impact of a pair of large-calibre rifle rounds slamming into its hull, Paris now becoming the object of its wrath. It hesitated at first, gravel scraping underneath its dense legs, giving Paris a lead as he charged towards the machine. Immediately, it attempted to move to the side but it was not the only fast-moving heavyweight brute. It managed to avoid a full-on collision but not before Paris shield smashed into its left leg, sending it teetering off to the side. Its now unwieldy body smashed into a crashed hover-car, crumpling its already half melted doors, and nearly slumping to down onto both legs. One of its eyes twitched, stretching on it stalk, glaring with unearthly red at Paris.
That was when the sound of an angry, electrical shriek filled the air. Scanners in the area would detect a powerful discharge of plasma and wary eyes see the huge blue glob soar over the growing flames of the treeline, falling towards Paris as it descended – it wouldn’t be a direct hit but within the 50 metre deadly radius, serious damage could be done – even to the machine itself.
Yet it was only a few seconds before it was up on its feet, charging past Paris before a spray of plasma ripped into its side. Energy shielding flared up – the crackle of electricity around itself intensified into a semi-domal sheen of orange-yellow power, flaring as the plasma rounds slammed into it and caused it to brighten in intensity, weakening its defensive capabilities. The whine rose in intensity as its eye-mounted targeting laser swept over the treeline, wildly around where the residual heat had gathered.
Another mighty roar – another unztadtlige plasma mortar glob soared through the air, aiming to annihilate the still cloaked Vin! Even the machine might be caught in its large radius – as it swivelled outwards towards the road again, it was clearly aiming for more, targeting wildly across destroyed vehicles and the nearing treeline. Another plasma-mortar report followed, this one falling roughly in front of where Linus and Corsica were located!
The machine did not get a chance to keep up its wild sprint. A piercing series of beams, scorching in their intensity, hit it direct on the shields crackling wildly from the strain. Its HMG swivelled, this time locking onto Zsresrinn again, the sheer interference from its rapidly overloading shields causing its weapon to shake and shudder, firing wide from the vrexul and instead gouging open a tree a few metres behind her, sending it crashing forwards just a few metres from the arthropod.
Linus and Corsica responded in kind – energy bolts swollen with unearthly power joined with armour piercing incendiaries, exploding in a radiant show of lights. Energy shielding hit its threshold and violently expelled the excess, sending out a wave of static interference, forcing the machine to stumble backwards… but not before a few of Corsica’s round flew into its open wounds.
Biomatter erupted into flame as soot and vaporizing internal fluids burst out of its body. The very machine gun sitting upon it shuddered before falling not backwards but into its body, crackling and sparking as its biomatter were consumed by the molten intensity boiling within. Its eyestalks rapidly twitched, blinking yellow and orange as they began to target its own crumbling body, answered by another roar of the massively powerful mortar, aiming this time directly on its position!
Before it could fall there, it was up on its feet and moving aggressively towards the reclaimer and the celaderaka, intent on using its raw mass and now burning body as a living battering ram. Its unztadtlige controller was prepared to use it as the target marker itself as the burning, tortured biomachine made one final ditch effort to end at least some of the team members.
“Kirvan’s piss, that bastard’s not giving up, forget it and run!” A familiar voice crackled over the coms. “We can’t hold out for much longer, we’ve been here even before your crash! Any more and that floating coral bastard’s going to catch wind of all of us!”
The soldiers arrayed out in the ruined park were clearly on high alert, scanning over the ruined walls and some had their weapons raised. Whatever they were seeing it was getting them on high alert and the swivelling gun turrets, sweeping the sky and the roofs of the distant ruined buildings, made it clear they wouldn’t be secure out here for long.
"Frick, Frick, Frick, Frick!" Vi did not have the time to see what his teammates had done to the bioconstruct before it fired its mortars in his direction. Having barely enough time to being directly hit but was close enough that the blast sent his invisible body towards a tree. Hitting it with a loud thud and Vin landed on his stomach. Adding to the pain that he still had from the crash. "Ahhhhh," he moaned in pain as he gripped his weapon. "First the crash and now nearly getting mortared," He said quietly but annoyed to himself. "I am tired of being throw around today."
As he slowly got up, Vin noticed that his armor was flicking. "No," and Vin knew what was happening. His cloaking field was failing, and before he could do something about it. The field dissipated, and now he was clear for those all to see. "Damn it all," he said in anger as he immediately moved to cover behind a tree. Bring up the holographic interface on his wrist. Checking his cloaking system, and unfortunately, he could not bring it back up. The blast from the mortar temporarily shorted it out. Vin can bring it back up by rebooting it but, that will take time before he can use it again. Vin sighed, "And I was having such a fine day," he said sarcastically to himself.
Without stealth anymore on his side, Vin reconsidered his options. From trying to be a nuisance to the enemy as his team was busy killing them. It was obvious that he can't go solo anymore, and he was almost hit already. Now is the time to regroup with his teammates and head towards the nav marked on his HUD. Seeing first hand who this mysterious voice is and hopefully find sanctuary from this place. As Vin started to make his way to the rest of his team, did the mysterious voice came on again. The messages only made Vin doubled timed it and as fast as he could to the nav marker. He does not want to lose the now precious window of escaping somewhere safe. Hoping that his team can take down the somehow still alive bioconstruct. Why can't that thing just die, Vin thought as he ran through the forest.
Huh, it kind of worked, he thought as he smiled to himself. Was on the ground now, and this thing stood up.
The large man looked up and was reminded of the blast from last time; this wasn't going to be as bad as the last, which was concentrated on him, but it would do something if he weren't careful. He watched as the mech ran past him, and he decided that he wasn't done with it. It was running away; the only thing going through his head is, 'I am not done yet.' He started after it again, his shield on his side as he was going only for speed and momentum.
He turned his head to make sure that he had some form of vision on the roaring plasma that was going to hit near him any second now; this was his new plan, well, an old one, but a good one. Use something as cover, he knew this wasn't going to be a concentrated attack like last time, but it would still hurt if he didn't have some extra armor.
Taking advantage of the various weapons hitting it, "You forgot about something, jackass!" he said as he slammed into it from behind with his right shoulder in the desire to piss it off some, and also so he can have a chance to get in front of it. He then put his right knee on the ground and his heel in front of him as he turned to his left, pulling the shield up behind him for the blast as he slid along the ground with it.
He hoped that one he could trip the stupid pain in his ass once and for all, and two that he could use it from some extra material between him and the center of the blast. Three that if it didn't work, that he could use the shield to push him closer to his goal of getting the hell out of dodge.
Silver stood, allowing his cloak to envelope him once more. Sure the bioconstruct wasn’t completely dead but the cyborg was confident enough those around it would be able to get the job done. Besides, that floating piece of coral was hell bent on reducing this area to nothing but ash, something that Silver was not keen on sticking around for. Pressing off, he continued down the road, weaving through the carcasses of cars heading towards the park.
As Silver moved, a familiar beep rang out beside him, Jerry had returned safe and sound. The little drone dipping up and down, clearly happy it had completed its little mission. Deep down the Voidhangers knotted stomach untwisted itself, though he would never voice it, he was glad to see Jerry. The drone zipped up to his owner, seamlessly dropping back into the hole on the side of his leg armour.
The air from the park was thick, heavy with the tension of soldiers preparing for battle, Silver swore he could almost taste it as he waded through. As he entered the cyborg decloaked himself, there was no point trying to hide from their obviously advanced equipment. He would be better off to seek out the leader of the troop under a fragile white flag, taking him as a hostage if things went south. The Voidhanger was a little taken aback by what he saw, admittedly he wasn’t expecting that amount of firepower to be successfully hidden so close by.
Several large, heavily armoured APC’s sat just beyond the tall gates of the park, a few of their gun turrets pointing towards the ongoing battle behind Silver. Others had their cannons swiveling back and forth across the buildings of the city, reminding the cyborg of Jerry’s earlier warning regarding a second welcoming party of enemies. The troops clung to the crumbling walls of the park and the tires of their vehicles, donned in thick, black, lighter armour. Whose ever army this was, wasn’t obvious, there were no insignias or otherwise identifiable gear among them.
It was stupid really, this whole damn thing was so ridiculous. Silver cursed himself for being so trusting of his new employers. He was caught between two very hostile enemies and literally standing in front of one unknown army. Of all the ways to die in this universe, this would be one so undeserved of the reputation he had spent over half a century calving out for himself. Cautiously Silver returned his rifle back to its magnetic plate on his spine, moving his arms in a very slow and obvious fashion, wary about setting anyone off. With his hands back at his side, the cyborg moved forward, approaching one of the troops.
Thankfully, the mortar fired at them hadn't been a direct hit. Mud and liquified dirt splattered across her armour. Pressure and heat cracked the bark of her cover and splinters collided with the metal of her helm and chest. The heat from the plasma did little to penetrate the defense of her suit. The wave of pressure didn't do much either. Her extremities would probably end up a bit battered, but they were still in tact. It wasn't like she could feel a bruise. So long as she could move her arms and legs, she was fine. How was Linus? Probably fine. She didn't really check.
Well, the plan--if you could call it that--had worked. The rounds that Corsica had fired did what they were supposed to do. The only issue was that it didn't quite stop the construct. Anyways, her job was done. No point in sticking around for longer. She may have had a cavalier attitude about risks and her fate, but she wasn't about to just stand still and let some construct slam into her. As such, she dashed away. Linus could come along if they wanted.
After all, what was she going to do? Set it on even more fire?
Using ether did draw the constructs’ attention, though Linus was able to evade some of its attacks. However, while the plasma mortar missile didn’t hit them directly, it sure caused some damage, and Linus rolled with the hit. They felt somewhat charred and bruised more heavily than they’d been beforehand as a result, but didn’t let that deter them from speeding out of the forest – this time without the assistance of ether, since the machine was distracted well enough by their allies. They patted down their weapons and other supplies, which were slightly worse for wear, but not unusable.
Concentrated as they were on hauling ass, they were able to glance backwards – and shoot at the enemy – only here and now, though that was enough for them to see when the reclaimer set the bioconstruct ablaze with her rounds. Nice. Their maw lolled into a momentary grin, warm satisfaction easing the sharp burn of adrenaline coursing through their overworked musculature. Unfortunately, the thing began to follow them relentlessly, targeting itself for the mortar projectiles. That was undoubtedly bad.
The voice over the comms confirmed it, though Linus was rather annoyed at it. First, they ask us to destroy us, now they tell us to forget it. The celaderaka scoffed, but once again boosted their speed with ether. Corsica was ahead of them at the moment, and that coupled with her earlier troubles when Linus had attempted to help her meant that this time, Linus enhanced only their own speed. Like I’m letting that fucker self-destruct on me. With that in mind, they ran towards the park, and once they noticed the barricade, led the machine in front of a gun turret, aiming to make it easier for what damn-better really be allies.
Outskirts of Kerovnia Entering the ruined park Status: Grazed
That thing was well-made, Zsresrinn had to admit. Even half-shredded, blasted from all sides and set on fire, the automaton not only kept painting targets for the floater far in the back, but it did not even stop shooting. Most Pact battle constructs she had seen had gone down to less; Abyss rot it, even Leaguer hunter-killer drones did not always take that much to crack. She amped her beam’s intensity in a surge, less in any real attempt to weaken the bio-construct than in irritation at it refusing to die despite her efforts. Every moment it survived it was an asset to the enemy. Delaying them. Destroy it.
Focused on her attack, she did not expect it to strike back so suddenly, or so fast. In a moment’s spasm, it was aiming at her. Almost. The remains of the evzredigor fog had thrown it slightly off-mark, but not by much. Not enough. Her plates had converged on her front as she had stopped to face the construct. Too little protection against the creature’s heavy weapon. She flinched aside as the cannon fired, her own beam trailing off in a scorching line before being extinguished. Impact, burning heat on her side. The core of the piercing volley had gone past, but its edge gouged a charred trench into her flank. The cool from the pain suppressors kicked in, but this time it could not fully cover the sting. Fighting hormones rose in response.
Hit back, was her first impulse, destroy. But then their contact called again, reminding her of the rest of the enemies. The floater would have time to kill her if she closed in now; useless. Their allies - they were not with the attackers, right now, so they were allies - must have had better intel. They would know when and how to engage best. For now, following their lead was the best she could do.
With a leap, Zsresrinn pushed herself further from the rampaging automaton and the thundering mortar blasts. She edged past the skeleton of an abandoned vehicle, and crossed over the seared ground to the gate. The mortar did not track her. Fortunate. Their contact’s forces finally came into view.
“Affiliated?” she scraped, coming to a stop near the likewise approaching Silver. “Gnosis-Eaters?” They had sworn by Kirvan’s name. “Dolsilvec?”
Driven by pure murderous instinct; a puppet with the rabid intensity of a diseased hound, the gundrone was now a burning waste-pile that glared as it charged. Flames erupted out of the gaping wounds gouged by the Sect troopers, its own machine gun collapsed into the raging inferno slowly warping the weapon from the bottom up and rendering it a useless chunk. Vat-flesh bonded to composite metal was beginning to peel from its dense body across its flap-like arms, down its dense legs, as it began to turn a meaty charred brown, ignoring Vin as its unztadtlige handler shot it forward in a murderous charge.
Even the soldiers in the park could detect the sparking voidhanger as electrical readings combined with residual energy from the plasma burst lit him up but they weren’t paying that much attention to him. The huge hulk of a human in his armoured suit charged with ferocity equal to the bioconstruct, smashing into the construct with bone-shattering force. In its frenzied, dysfunctional state the machine stumbled forward, crashing against the burnt-out husk of a civilian truck and crushing the wrecked vehicle’s cargo component inwards – its own sheer momentum made it stumble faster than its internal balancing calibrators, currently melting, could correct. A gout of flame vomited out of its wound, barely even singing Paris’ armour, as sparks began to crackled inside of it. Pops at first then flashes of light with harsh snapping sounds – its own rounds were starting to detonate as the vicious flames from Corsica’s weapon. The tubular gaze from the flaming tunnel glowered with more anger than its two eye stalks – one really, one of the detonating rounds had sliced another clean open as vaporizing regulative fluid wafted out of the wound and its shuddering flap arms pulled against the vehicle it had been cratered into.
Their stand-off was interrupted by an enormous glob of plasma, slamming into the ground behind where Paris had imagined, momentarily blocking Zsresrinn’s sight with a huge blossom of raging power. The blast of blue and white desecrated tortured metal, sending melting fragmentation spitting outwards before a wave of heat and force. Windows shattered and loose components flew outwards, scattering before the two like leaves in autumnal winds. The force was far more ruthless, shoving against Paris’ shield as if to usher him towards his doom.
The bio-machine’s controller had no such reservations about preserving the weapon. If it could at least take one of them, that was enough. With a tortured creak the nearly destroyed machine pulled its body out of the truck and staggered towards Paris with a drunkard’s urgence and imbalance. More sparking crackles and bolts of white shooting outwards like blips of light from its body – its unspent ammunition set off by the extreme heat. Loud beeping – the machine’s warning signals were going off as it lunged towards Paris, one arm flap simply falling off from the melting heat, its remaining eye peeling off of its limb, and from within its body, Paris could see the boxy magazines of its ammo starting to go white.
Just before it could make it to the halfway point, a scourging beam of light slammed into its body, melting off one of its flap arms and causing the machine to awkwardly stumble and stagger. It writhed and jerked, its electronics and control mechanisms sent into overdrive as the combined heat from the vrexul’s energy weapon rapidly melting its internal body and setting off the volatile munitions within.
In a blast of flame and heat, the machine’s body finally exploded. A storm of white spark-like bullets flew outwards in a deadly shrapnel like spray. It was but a fraction of the speed if they had been launched from its now shattered heavy machine gun but its devastation was clear. Vehicle husks shuddered and shook, car doors fell off, supporting components shattered and a few vehicles not already devastated by the mortar bombardment slumped with heavy thuds to the ground.
The final last-ditch effort of their assailants had been in vain but there was little time to breathe.
The soldiers at the park quickly lowered their guns, gesturing for the whole squad to join them. A few of them paused to watch Zsresrinn closely – one of them held what looked like a missile launcher but he paused when Silver made it in first. A few of them paused, looking almost ready to raise their weapons at Corsica – her heat signatures were off of the charts. It was clear that the bizarre mishmashed squadron was still a sight to many of them. Troopers further back were starting to move back to the APC’s as ominous frothing growls and shrieks, likely celaderaka mixed with tarrhaidim, called out over the sound of melting metal and stomping boots off in the distance. Whomever was hunting them was angry.
One of the soldiers stood a foot taller than the others – their armour made them featureless, beyond the light black overlapping ridges over a mixture of light and dark greys comprising a more flexible under armour. Larger wrist guards that featured fang-like tips sat on their wrists and a cape was visible around their waist, likely some sort of shielding for hidden thrusters of some sort. Their ridged helmet was imposing as they loomed before Silver, still dwarfed by Zsresrinn as he motioned for them to follow him as he walked towards the parked vehicles.
“Yirilovan Selekawael, loyalist to the bone.” The armoured figure called out, motioning to the rest of the Sect team to start boarding. “Captain within the Regime, Fortress Kerovnia just a few hours from here. Your leaders told us nothing about a hot landing when we were recruited for assistance. As far as the tasahnial* are concerned, our truce with them holds – they are not aware we crept in just under their noses. Hence the jammers – as far as they are concerned, this is a dead zone too close to our lines for them to near.”
He turned to look down the road, pausing as whatever scanning systems on his armour analysed the particulars of the situation.
“That group that ambushed you – they’re bottom feeding nobodies. Nobodies under the Carnazir, another misguided group of miscreants absorbed by the traitor-armies. The Kerovnian Separatist Alliance – failures before the war, failures lapping up the offal dropped their way by the benefactors.”
Already the APC’s were moving – turning away from the gate and towards a wall or rather, the crumbled powdery ruins of one. A few troops moved into the hefty troop storage components.
“They are however, failures with a direct line to the enforcers the Carnazir use to ensure party line and loyalty is well practiced here. They have been itching for an excuse to take our territory – and your friends, the hulking human I presume and the last motion signature out on the road, better get here faster unless he wants to shatter even the tattered illusion of peace we have now.” One of the APC’s had moved towards the gate, rumbling down the road as it turned to open its door to them. Its turret swivelled tracking motion through the trees – no visual contact but it was clear they were cutting it close. Distantly, something could be heard stomping about in the woods and in its wake, trees could be heard tumbling to the ground. The troops inside wildly gestured at Paris and Vin – it was clear they were almost on borrowed time now.
“Once they get in, we’re hitting the jammer and blinding them. We’ve done it before; we’re a sneaky bunch when we want to be. With how things have gone south, we’re going to take you the other rendez-vous point. It’s clear by helping you, we might be targeted now as well.” Yrilovan concluded, jogging towards one of the APC’s – one that the Sect squad would notice had a rather unusual electrical signature, as if it was covered in a field of static.
The crunching of trees in the distance continued.
*Derogatory term in central celaderakan translating to “soil shitter”, typically as a slur against lower class people believed to have been tricked into joining guerilla and insurgent groups due to low intelligence.
In a confusion of an explosion and being pushed back on his knee and shin, metal scrap shifted back a few feet until he was in a truck. "Fucking, asshole," he said after the explosion, the front of his shield now white and rapidly cooling as the mechanical beast strode towards him in drunken vigor. He grabbed the arm and proceeded to beat the dying beast with its own arm; when he noticed the ammunition about to cook-off, he just slapped the molten part of its arm against what he believed was its head and dropped it before hiding up underneath his shield for the cook-off.
"Ya missed ya fucking jackass," he muttered as he stood up and shoved his shield on the metal beast's top a few times.
He turned and started at a pace. He looked down the road at those impatient soldiers waiting for him and the other member of the team, and he started his sprint the last length taking his knee to slide and pop back up near the back of the ramp. He lifted himself to his feet and his shield up as he walked forward into the APC. He stood at the door looking in before grabbing the roof of the hull and walking inside. He moved close to the far end and he got on his knee putting his shield down on his side.
"If you have sunblock, use it... and give me what's left," he said as he lifted his mask up to let air vent into the suit. He was radiating heat as he turned his head as far as he could which was not far, "being this hot makes me feel like I am in my twenties."
He let his shield go and turned around before looking up, "or if you have an extra comms unit I can ride on top."
Finally, that thing is dead, Vin thought as he watched what was left of the bio-construct exploded. That thing sure had a drive to kill Paris. It could have easily gone after him. Instead of going after Vin, it just bolted with imbalance towards Paris. Vin did aim and take a few shots at the bio-construct as it went past him. But, it did not faze it, and it did not matter. Despite it all, it failed to kill Paris or anyone else for the matter. The fact that Vin was happy with as whoever shot them down and ambushed them had failed to kill them. A lucky feat, really considering the situation but, enough thinking of that. The matter of getting out of dodge takes priority now that their attackers are all dead.
Running up the friendly troops before breaking in a walk towards the APC. "Nice to see some friendly faces," he said, granted he could not see anyone their literal faces due to their armor covering their face. Maybe these people will have answers somehow they shoot down in the first place. But that is wishful thinking, and for now, he would be content with finding people that did not want to kill them. Seeing the APC where Paris was, Vin made his way towards it and went inside. Sitting down across from Paris and simply sigh of relief. They were almost out of there, they just need the team to get together, and they can reach someplace safe enough to regroup and complete their mission.
It wasn’t long before the six team members were hurried onto the armoured transports as the molten wreck of the gun-platform smouldered and sputtered. The black smoke rose ominously as the heavy, thudding footsteps and crumbling of enormous trees continued. Something massive was nearing – a vague shape throughout the treeline, glanced by the Dolsilvec troopers as their weapons tracked the enormous shadowy outline of its movements and the vegetation that crunched and tumbled in its wake. Lesser infantry would’ve long since opened fire – their missile launchers and high output beam guns would’ve made short work of most but the peace they maintained, perfunctory as it was, still had its value. One of the troopers gestured off to another standing by a series of boxy, bumpy protrusions emerging from a pod-like object out of which a cluster of jagged, pointed antennae. The equipment operator nodded, punching a few buttons.
As one of the troopers reached into their cargo components, passing what looked like a malleable plastic bag of rehydrating fluid-gel, he paused to look through the still open door. The pointed antennae began to shudder like insect legs of some chirping, squeaking species and a piercing, sharp whine began to fill the air. For a second one would think it was drowning out the stomping of the unseen juggernaut but in reality but its steps had slowed, from lurching crunching stomps to a slow scraping, drag against the forest floor. That would be difficult to hear with the sudden static buzz creeping through the Sect-team’s coms and the trooper attempting to help Buerra. He fumbled, nearly dropping the package as he shut off his coms momentarily, mumbling an apology as he passed the refreshing package. It was as if the weather has worsened abruptly or some sort of interference was directly targeting them – the other Dolsilvec troopers had had the fortune to have disabled theirs earlier avoid the annoyance. Only the shrill voice of the jamming device continued before its pointed tips began to slide back into its body and its dense body was picked up and hauled back into one of the APC’s.
“Tempting to hang you outside like cargo but no,” Yrilovan replied to as he stood at the middle, one of his arms grasping handles on the ceiling of the vehicle’s interior. “There isn’t even enough of you to use as reactive armour.”
The rest of the troopers didn’t seem to move but the heads of a few shook and bobbled somewhat – faint laughter audible behind their visors, slightly glowing as the lights flickered and the interior darkened. The doors were quickly closing but before they had done so, the vehicles were already moving, rumbling over the hilled ground and through the streets of Kerovnia.
In the close quarters of the armoured personnel carriers, the team was able to get a closer look at their newfound allies. They were Dolsilvec troopers and beyond Yrilovan, there didn’t seem to be other celaderaka. For eyes adapting to lower light conditions, their visors weren’t completely opaque. Faces could be seen behind the tinted glass, some eyeless and veiny eyeless masses above jagged teeth and others clearly human. They were professional soldiers –selectively kitted firearms, well-kept armour devoid of scratches or cannibalized parts, and a number of bandoliers, pouches, and blade-sheaths across their bodies. For a Regimist troopers at this stage of the conflict, they were considerably more well supplied than most.
The one who had passed Paris the gel-pack sat back and crossed and tapped his foot, giving a quizzical look at the air that blurred through his ventilation.
“Is that Pact equipment? You were clearly in the shitter if you were drafted into their schemes.” He commented almost casually. His voice had been filtered through a masking device – it grated and grinded, the words tinged with metallic edge and tone. “I have served with them before, joint operations before they decided to play kingmaker with different generals here on Chalgheol – hardy people but I wonder how they have survived this long, scraping by with designs as primitive and factory-pumped as their personalities.”
Given the lumbering size of his armour, it was difficult for it not to catch the attention of the squad of comparatively smaller humanoids. Vin’s appearance however, was not lost on them either. His armour hid his voidhanger characteristics but it wasn’t through visual cues that the tarrhaidimg trooper’s featureless head seemed to scan him, tinted a sickly bluish green through its visor.
It raised one of its long, gloved fingers and tapped against its other arm, cranking its back and forth in rigid, robotic motions – its fingers all moving independently, mimicking the jointed limbs of factory-based manufacturing robots as they tapped and scratched against its padding-armoured limb.
The voidhanger would be able to detect the readings of a scan passing over his body – his synthetic arm was being scanned, analysed, and a tinge of ether was detected in the air, emerging from the tarrhaidim. Across from him on the opposite corner of the APC, one of the humans had turned his visor towards him, analysing the complex electronics of his prosthetic limb or at least trying to.
The tarrhaidim sititng directly across from him leaned forward, its crag-mouth full of grotesque teeth somehow not moving as it spoke – a gargled series of wet, frothing gurgles thankfully partially muted through its speakers. Vin’s programs would be able to roughly translate what he was saying.
[Tarrhaidim] “Paid well, yes? Your arm – my friend likes it.” He gestured off with a nod towards the human then looked back to Vin, “Voidhanger, adventurous, maybe too much. I thought prosthetics killed you – your body hates all things not touched by Abzu. Well dressed – not guerilla yes? So many of you, little more than flies following the excrement-reek from the Traitor-Armies, I would think like regressions of humanity rather than evolutions.”
He paused to make a particularly unpleasant slurping sound, slowed down as if being digitally processed. A few more followed him, joined by humans grunting and cursing in agreement.
As the trip dragged on, Yrilovan turned to Linus, his gaze tangible through the steely orange visor. The Laguna operative was the only other celaderaka he noticed sent alongside them.
[Celderakan] “I hope Laguna pays you enough to be their attack dog.” He commented without even looking at Linus, causing a few of his subordinates to abruptly quiet themselves or switch to their private com channels. “I remember you – not that we met, but I saw you on our drone feeds once, aerial reconnaissance over one of the smaller towns. That was you, on that rescue operation, wasn’t it? You fight well, even when near death’s doorsteps. Your clan hierarchs back in the *Bindarang Perhungan would have granted you great gifts for bravery, perhaps breeding stock too for the continuation of bloodline, something the rest of the rebel upstarts have discarded. Certainly more than what another independent militia can scrounge up. Did you even have proper doctors?”
+++
Over in another APC, the other voidhanger was drawing some strange looks. An onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell but peeking in on their com channels or amplifying the sound of whispers between a few of them and it was clear that some of the Dolsilvec troopers had doubts about the second voidhanger being with them – one whose armour was clearly that of an infiltrator.
“Probably some pirate, no, a thief and an infiltrator. There is a market for void-snakes like them.” One of them, a prosthetic-eyed human, murmured quietly over a seemingly-closed coms channel to his compatriot as he glanced at Silver. “I was with exospace marines, half of our job was dealing with these cockroaches. Their fleet elders were always crowding around our space stations stations and begging for work and rent, but it is these marauders they always hide amongst their own that first to slip a knife in your back the second you reached over to hand the contract. That is how we got into hostage scenarios, when t-”
“Oi, you a privateer?” Another human called out, turning off his voice filter to address Silver loud and clear. “Real nice suit ya got my friend, piece it together yourself or snatch it off some convoy huh? Don’t try and get away and say you’re homo-sapien, everyone felt that abzu-tinge once you walked into the vehicle and I know that isn’t just qillatu residual.”
He stopped rather abruptly, one of the tarrhaidim grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. He didn’t need to say why, simply giving the lumbering Zsresrinn and the austere Corsica a quick glance.
“Probably friends – detritus eater and detritus dweller…” The tarrhaidim murmured in English as quietly as possible, his voice abruptly raising as he turned to Corsica, reddish ocular veins visible through its visor at it glared at her. “That Nova-Pura-Shithole lady though? I bet even they don’t like her. Sadistic terrorists, burn a whole hospital down, just to knock off some no-name bio-con…”
They sat down, keeping their hand gripped tight on his rifle. Yet the fungoid wasn’t done yet.
“Answer me, you brain-dead cunt. I know you're listening in, fucking garbage in biped form, how you get treated as a protected religious organization in some systems before going off to lynch some nobodies on some impoverished backwater huh? Go on and explain how killing off photosynthesizer-power plants is supposed to protect us, when you aren’t lynching our sporelings for having 1% too many foreign biomass augs. Maybe you just like the thrill or your high priest unzips first before they let you-“
This time, one of his squadmates audibly smacked him in the gut, drawing a growl as he doubled over before he stopped, but not before looking over to Zsresrinn.
“I know you probably think us Dolsilvecs are a bunh of washed-up has-beens holding onto tatters you crusty lump, but trust me, this pyro-twat will stick that gun barrel to the back of your skull the second those next-gen bioweapons of yours lead to mass produced augs in a few months if you’re stuck with us for that long. Mark my words, the Sect doesn’t mean shit to them.”
+++
As the banter continued, the convoy began to slow. A few of the soldiers involved would begin to draw away from whatever was being conversed as Yrilovan opened the door to the driver’s section, exchanging a few difficult words to make out. It was like this for a few minutes with the gun turrets able to be heard rapidly swiveling as opposed to the slow, pleasantly subtle drone of their movement earlier while the convoy was moving more rapidly. The APC convoy was slowing down Yrilovan stepped back out, looking over at his squad and then Linus, Paris, and Vin.
“We’re getting out. This is the location but the terrain is a bit rough. Once your friends arrive to link up with you, we’re done here as far as I’m concerned.” He stepped forward as the door lowered, a pair of large PDW-sized blaster-cannons in each hand. The rest of the troops filed out rapidly, all the raunchiness and roughness replaced with cold, steel-eyed militancy as they swept around the area.
The other three APC’s fanned out, spreading out as their contents disembarked and began to sweep out to secure the area around a small power-generator of some sort next to a tall column-structure with the segmented build of something almost like a human spine. Vegetation had crept into its crevices and along the flat surfaces of the generator but there were few signs of habitation.
Quickly, the Dolsilvec Regime infantry began to spread out, their weapons hunting for any sign of movement as they surrounded the spinal-structure and the generator, falling into a layered defensive circle around the convoy. The APC’s had moved off near the sides, partially concealed by a few old, collapsed trees and heavy foliage. Only the tips of their barrels graced the edges of the treeline.
A waterfall could be seen a few metres off to the back, its top scoured by one of the vehicle’s turrets before it froze on a certain spot on. A few of the troops abruptly called it out, transmitting to the target location to the east of the waterfall. Just a few feet away, a few figures could be seen moving through a gap in the treeline, framed amongst the dense green in their armour and fatigues. They wore green cloaks, long rifles peeking out from underneath, and their circular goggles gave them the appearance of a semi-insectoid biped, even if they appeared to be human themselves.
They waved to the Dolsilvecs, revealing more of their colours – the lighter Kevlar-esque armour and relatively less outlandish rifles were the calling signs of their military. A few more turrets swivelled and the sound of crunching footsteps and the distant treads of more vehicles followed. The soldiers turned sharp to see another two APC’s enter, flanked by soldiers in bulkier fully form-protecting armour.
Yrilovan motioned to them and walked forwards a few steps, stopping by the generator as he raised his palm. A few of the others had their rifles raised half-cautiously – there was always the chance for defector divisions, especially those that counted themselves amongst not only the Carnazir but the League and the Pact as well.
They weren’t Sect troopers from what anyone could see. That wasn't the armour type.
Yrilovan simply stood there, his hand raised as some sort of digital communication was exchanged. Peeking into his suit systems, they were a series of scans, checking registries, armour insignia, and cross-referencing databases. The gulf between the two groups was large and it was clear that there was a tension between them.
One of the troopers next to Zsresrinn nudged the insect, partially shielding herself with their huge body.
“Are they yours? We were told it would be Sect who would be coordinating.” She asked, looking off to a few others who had been quietly spreading out. A few of the turrets had turned away from those by the waterfall… but they hadn’t exactly stopped facing them either.
One of the troopers, the tarrhaidim who’d been speaking to Silver earlier, tapped the voidhanger on the shoulder. His coms were off and he whispered to the post-human.
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd their scouts simply hailed us like that? No radio signals, nothing? They just popped up out of the woods and rolled in, not even in their APC’s.”
One of the other tarrhaidim, the same one that had been angrily trading at Corsica earlier, could subtly be seen slipping into some of the bushes. He had a launcher, underslung on his rifle, and was busy changing out the munition type. A dull green HE shell was exchanged for another – white tipped and with a warning sign showing a sphere fragmenting into countless smaller ones.
That’s when Yrilovan, still communicating with the approaching Dolsilvecs, abruptly requested a com channel to the Sect squad, buzzing to their coms.
-- My on-board AI is handling it but I need you all to come clean. Just who were you told you were meeting up with? We were under the impression you would be briefed when here but another Dolsilvec team? We weren’t told about that. –
It seemed at least, that some progress was being made. A figure emerged from the back of one of the APC’s as the standoff seemed to end – wearing the same armour type as Yrilovan but a bit smoother and denser – its mouth visible and based on the rough, fleshy gnarliness it was a tarrhaidim. The armoured troops were casually walking forth as Yrilovan waved off at his squad, causing them to loosen up as the groups convened around the area.
-- I don’t have much time – that’s their leader walking out. He’s from a fortress-battalion just a few clicks away from Kerovnia, I’ve served with him before, but I wasn’t told anything about him joining us. Something has changed or someone else knows. --
And it was a rather tall Tarrhaidim too – one with a large sheathed blade against its hip, easily a few inches taller than Linus and grinning from side to side. A jovial grin really, one that seemed rather at ease. The tall fungoid moved toward to shake hands with Yrilovan as the armoured troopers strolled through the settlement, exchanging pleasantries with their comrades.
If they all looked over to near the waterfall, the cloaked scout troopers had begun leaving, beginning to visually melt into the woods as they moved on ahead.
The huge leader of this small platoon however, didn’t spend long with his celaderaka counterpart, moving towards the Sect team.
“I apologize for not getting here earlier – we were bogged down as we got here.” He spoke, taking a short bow and muttering something in tarrhaidim under his breath. What could be made out seemed to be a prayer of some sort – “spore moon” was mentioned. “The Sect contacted us a few hours ago. We were told to secure a rendez-vous point in the woods, just a few clicks away from Kerovnia. Scenic place – enough that we decided we didn’t mind going on foot given the relative closeness. We have trundled along inside those transports for weeks. A hike does a soldier good.”
He paused for a moment, looking over at the mismatched group of soldiers before back at Yrilovan.
“Yrilovan, he hasn’t told you too much hasn’t he? I don’t blame him. Top secret Sect happenings correct? It is not for my non-existent nose to poke into.” He chuckled, looking over towards Paris, pausing for a few moments before looking over at Corsica.
“Interesting party you have. Usually they…” He paused for a few moments, turning his head towards Zsresrinn. “Oh? Just one? You are from… Ugnost, was it? I’ve heard of you – my, marvellous specimen you are. I had heard of a vrexul or two being assigned to look after a few of our remaining assets. Momentous occasion truly, if you were reassigned from that.”
Yrilovan could be speaking with a few of the soldiers and while his body language was calm, something about the troops seemed to be tense. One of them was gesturing at him, fist raised and moving it against his palm and another was pointing out to a few dirt paths through the woods, leading up towards hillier terrain.
The tall celaderaka however, could very faintly be heard. He wasn’t quite shouting but he was talking loudly. His voice was masked by his armour’s speakers, blurring it partially to the extent it couldn’t be made out from the current distance of the Sect squad.
Another group of them were chatting with the troopers near the back of one of the APC’s – one was occupying the driver on the side with chat and cigarettes as another slipped in and out of it quickly, waving at his squad-mate before moving to the generator, poking around the small communication module to its right as he stood on its moss-covered steps.
Yrilovan’s head turned towards the Sect members before he went back seemingly to arguing with the Dolsilvec troopers. One of them had a long white axe in his hands, tapping it against the ground.
“How rude of myself to come in unannounced and unaccounted for on another note,” The tarrhaidim commander continued. “Gourlan Karzai – section commander for the local Sprawls’ mountain base. Not much of it now – this here is a backwater. I’m rather envious of Yrilovan – he was assigned to one of the more exciting theatres, only pulled over here a few weeks back. He never did tell me what he was preparing for during the strategic meetings but the ‘draka knows how to present a surprise no?”
As he spoke, there was a very slight smell to him that wasn’t quite fungoid earthiness. It was an odd mix of something metallic and burnt. It was clear he had seen combat before – old blastmarks on his armour and a few residual burns along his backside but they seemed fairly old. Some of the splotches seemed to fade into his faded if rough, segmented armour.
“You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any additional ammo by the way, would you?” He asked to Paris. “You look like someone who prefers their calibres more substantial. We barely had time when we were called out to properly resupply after our last patrol – chop chop, we were told, and before we knew it, we were proudly now under the command of the Sect.”
He continued to grin, his teeth almost human if not for the almost shark-tooth like appearance and the fact he didn’t seem to have a tongue in there.
Yrilovan was turning away from those he was conversing with, walking quickly to one of the APC’s but he turned around the corner of the generator and back towards a different APC, then towards some foliage. The foliage one the tarrhaidim trooper who’d been changing his grenade launcher had been hiding in – now sitting about, appearing to be simply maintaining his rifle.
He seemed to be trying to hide momentarily – the rest of his squads were conversing with the armoured troopers, who hadn’t seemed to catch sight of him as he walked off.
Yet he wasn’t opening his private channel either.
A few of them could be seen moving to the river, soaking up their canteens with water but if one listened very closely, there was a sizzling sound. Some of them stood guard, partially blocking their sight as the others momentarily dunked their gear into the water, scrubbing them off and washing off anything that might have gotten stuck on them. A bit of steam could be seen rising, almost like smoking barrels as they stepped in.
It appeared to have been a busy day for both groups.
*In English, this translates to the Blood Star Nexus. It is the name for the collection of the worlds the celaderaka originate from.
A gel was applied to him and his armor. He stared down at the vents, "Everyone plays kingmaker, but the pact helped my people when they played kingmaker; their equipment has kept me alive for a long time. Technology and aesthetics aren't everything; this doesn't need to be advanced and expensive. I can take something from your cooling units, a few tools, and a comms unit to fix this; most of what you use needs special tools and equipment."
He shut his eyes as they were drying out, his lips were cracked and his skin dry and starting to scratch with the burns covering most of the upper half of his body. He licked his lips to try and moisten them some, it didn't help much but it was something. He sat there for most of the ride silent, hopefully, he could get some stuff to fix his suit, and possibly water. He shifted his body to the side once the APC stopped and getting out was him walking backward until he could stand.
It wasn't efficient like the way he got in, but it worked. He would turn around and face his comrades before following them, taking in the sights of the different group that came to their aid. He shrugged lightly to get a few kinks of out his bones and stretched some. He looked at those around him, he already had some problems with the group, not the way it worked, but how several were not human. He mainly stayed quiet, he was more or less there if things went bottoms up to his knowledge.
When asked a question about ammo he looked at the creature, "I have my backpack and my rig, aside from that, the two crates that I brought with me got blown out when we were first hit. It's the wrong caliber for most of your weapons likely since you don't use pact equipment. But, if you find either one, I would be grateful for their return if you are able to find them."
He hit his helmet, "the trackers on them aren't useful when I can't see them on my display helmet, I'll give you four moderate-yield explosive packs per if you promise to blow the thing that gave me a plasma tan up." This was when he began wondering if this was a place to stop, mainly so he could fix anything he could and get ready for the next point in their journey or if he would be off again being thrown around again in another vehicle that was getting shot at.
Yrilovan’s greeting drew a scraping acknowledgement from Zsresrinn and a downward twitch of the antennae, the closest the vrexul could manage to a universally comprehensible nod. One of her lateral eyes glanced backwards as the sounds of some enormous presence drew closer, and her whole body inclined sideways, signalling her skepticism at the Dolsilvec officer’s words.
“Hostiles detected Gnosis-Eater stealthcraft, necessarily advanced equipment possession. Weapons, support units good quality. Simple militia unlikely. If true, direct supply reception.” Another eye looked back. “No time now.”
She trudged over to one of the APCs and pushed through its door, contorting her limbs at improbably, and somewhat unsettlingly, wide angles to lower the mass of her body and fit into the vehicle. Even once inside, though, the roof was just ever so slightly too low for her to stand at full height, and so, with another surprising display of flexibility, she folded them underneath herself. From there on, she kept still, resembling nothing so much as an idle piece of artillery left in the corner of a hangar between battles - as she was, she reflected, for the thousandth time in as many transit lulls. She did not have much to do while at rest, which made sense, it was called rest for a reason. Her senses remained alert, however, and though she gave no sign of having heard anything the first time one of tarrhaidim troopers mentioned her - it took her some moments to understand the ‘detritus eater’ was meant to be that cyborg voidhanger - she finally stirred to life when addressed directly.
“Human operative allied element now,” she rasped, her mind settling the question of ambiguous relationships by running it along the one track it knew well: warfare. “Current immediate objectives beneficial to Orphan Fleet goals,” at least, she thought; “If objectives do not cease-aligning, remains allied element. If do, alliance plus human operative terminated. Dolsilvec similar, if objectives beneficial to Orphan Fleet, allied element.”
She thought for a moment, then hastened to add: “Mutually beneficial.”
Fortunately, the ride did not last much longer, and soon they were out of the carrier and in sight of what looked like a generator station. Maybe a communications post, too, but Zsresrinn did not have time to ascertain that before another armed group approached from the surrounding vegetation, drawing her attention along with that of everyone else. She waved her feelers negatively when the closest soldier nudged her with a question; no, these did not look like any Sect people she had seen before.
“Unknown,” she answered in a subdued drone, “Sect limited reach possible, if true acting through local agents likely.”
But no, it turned out to be more Dolsilvec. She had to agree with Yrilovan, it was strange one detachment should be unaware of the other’s presence. On the other hand, this might still have been contested territory for all she knew, and linking was not always perfect on the spot. Still, it was odd that their leader knew what operations she was assigned to, which as far as she remembered had been classified. Perhaps he, too, had been sent by the central authorities to monitor the mission’s progress, though why a backwater post force would be assigned to that was unclear.
“Another present previously, lost in combat,” she replied when the tarrhaidim noticed her, “Not part of our detail, League experimental asset. Decision to transfer our task to reinforce proved correct, hostile interference unexpectedly strong. You were briefed about our objective?”
Whatever was happening here, one battlefield rule held as true as ever - coordination would be vital going ahead.
The APC jerked from side to side, swerving around a large pothole in the centre of the road. Inside, Silver was hunched over, his hands locked onto his thighs to stabilise himself as he performed a systems diagnostic. His HUD lit up with reading after reading, analysing both his suit and the internal systems that kept him functioning. According to the reports he had spent half a cartridge of rifle ammunition trying to take out the bioconstruct and the puncture he had received in their crash landing had been repaired/healed without issue.
With Silver’s focus elsewhere, Jerry was keeping a watchful eye on the cyborg's surroundings. The AI was running a behavioural analysation program in an attempt to predict any hostile action before it materialised. The little robot recorded every scrap of information it could, from the subtle nature of body language to the obvious utilisation of tone and discourse.
“Host, Silver,” The AI’s innocent robotic tone reverberated around the voidhangers helmet, quiet enough that only he could hear. “The humans have engaged you in dialogue, their tone and demeanor suggests they are attempting to offend you.”
Ugh, humans. Silver thought, rolling his eyes. You always can count on them to be the most close-minded species in the universe. So quick to project their issues onto everyone else.
“Their words are meaningless,” He said out aloud. “Just let me know if you pick up any hostile actions. Otherwise I’m not interested in their bullshit.”
Some time later the APC ground to a halt. Silver opened the door to see they had reached some sort of facility but couldn’t be sure if this was their destination or just a spot to resupply. The look of things didn’t help either, war torn buildings surrounded them, left to rot as nature slowly enveloped everything. The troops around the group began to fan out, scanning all around for any signs of movement. Despite the silence, tension gripped the air with only a nearby waterfall daring to make any sound.
Silver slowly eased off the front line, taking up a position behind a large contingent of well armoured troops. Several figures began to materialise from a treeline far away from the buildings, leaving the cyborg certain that had he still possessed a biological gut, it would be twisting a large knot. Everyone’s rifles swiveled to meet the emerging group as they cautiously moved forward. From the looks of their armour they weren’t Sect troops but hostiles wouldn’t have given away their position either.
So who are they? Silver thought before being tapped on the shoulder. It was one of the tarrhaidim troopers who had been riding in the same APC.
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd their scouts simply hailed us like that?” He asked, his tone distance and with a hint of a quiver. “No radio signals, nothing? They just popped up out of the woods and rolled in, not even in their APC’s.”
Silver shrugged, looking over the new group before returning to meet the soldier’s gaze.
“This whole damn mission is off to me. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”
Suddenly the cyborg’s radio crackled to life with the comm chatter revealing it was another team working for the Sect. The word spread quickly among the troops and everyone began to ease up, taking stock and resupplying.
Silver, on the other hand, still wasn’t at ease. Why had they not seen anyone from the Sect? Why were they not receiving any direct communication for themselves? It wasn’t adding up and this new group were just more puppets, dancing on the strings for who knows entertainment. The commander of the mountain base introduced himself via the comms but the cyborg was done for the moment. They had been made to be pawns, sitting ducks waiting to be taken out and Silver was close to cracking.
“That was your plane shot down a few hours earlier correct? I’m afraid that area is Kerovanian Separatist Alliance territory. As much as I would love to personally make it ours, the peace we maintain with them is done so for… reasons beyond my paygrade.” Gourlan spoke, pausing for a moment as a few of the troops near him grunted. Someone could be heard spitting and muttering something in celaderakan under their tongue – a human, specifically, one of Gourlan’s entourage. His semi-triangular, blocky helmet pulled back over his head as he turned towards Paris for a second; he wasn’t as bulky or blocky in shape given that the armour he and the rest of the group were wearing was based on a similar design philosophy.
“I can offer you something else in return. Your team is awfully small to say the least and while I do not claim to be an expert in Sect operations, I do know that many here lack the same respect that we will show towards you. After all, holding a few deniable mercenaries hostage is one thing but such a mismatched collection of commandos? They’ll know who it is easily. You are not just threats to be eliminated but assets to acquire. I would know from prior operations I have seen.” His grin grew, sickly motley fungal flesh pulling back against cruel, thorn-like teeth.
His fingers snapped and the same soldier that looked for him stepped up, bringing a box-like device, almost like a jerry-can save for a small gap around its midsection and a number of small antennae pointing out from its flat sides. Gourlan took it and offered it to Paris on his gloved fingers, long enough to hold the entirety of the device.
“Portable shield generator, the sort we employ during patrols. Handy when the local League-funded militias start thinking they can sneak under our noses and ambush us. 30 minutes for a full recharge but I’ve seen it hold out against a whole mag’s worth of heavy-duty gauss rounds. Yes, the militiafolk have those. Of course, the scielto lords we see carouseling on interstellar news-feeds about the importance of civility in this time of tension wouldn’t know anything about that.” He chuckled with a sound like water sloshing inside of a plastic bag.
As the impressively tall tarrhaidim turned to the hulking vrexul, Silver would get a sudden buzz over his coms. The soldier who he had been speaking to didn’t notice, giving him a rather disappointed expression before shrugging it off and walking away. Encrypted private channel – IFF tag marked as Dolsilvec Regime, specifically, from Yrilovan. There was data being sent but the progress bar was climbing slowly. It seemed reception was weak out here but soon he began to talk.
<I know you don’t trust us, but we have a mutual problem.> His voice was tense, a far cry from the arrogant confidence of earlier. <The rendez-vous point was top secret; nobody could’ve gotten the location unless someone incredibly capable broke in to our channels, unlikely without compromising it and alerting us, or someone is pulling some strings.>
A trace revealed that Yrilovan had moved between two of the APC’s – he was purposefully far from the rest of the gathered forces, even his own.
<I do not know what Gourlan is doing here; he might be being positioned and redirected. He might talk big but he’s a clown more than he is a killer. Something went wrong with your command chain or they are lowering their standards. I have never liked him, even as a respected leader who earned his spot, and I feel someone knows that.>
Gourlan in the meantime had produced a small rectangular data-pad in his hand, roughly the size of the mobile phones of civilians. With a few flicks of his wrist, a projected map appeared in a ghostly teal of the surrounding mountainous territory in all of its forested digital glory. A pair of lines were shown tracing back to a flat area of round and a nearby power plant – their current location. There were two spherical dots, one being a orange and another purple. Both travelled the same direction but differing paths, with the purple trail surrounded by flashing dots of red.
“As you can see, this is what I was instructed. The orange path is you of course, at least the path I was told you would take. Our path is parallel to yours and we have the fun part of the job – causing a ruckus with all the rebels hiding in the wood. We will draw their attention – you will be free to have your heroic little rescue mission in relative peace.” He smiled and turned to the rest of the team, leaning to the right to look at Silver. That voidhanger had been quiet – maybe the nature of such beings.
“I imagine you would all want to download a copy of this – this data-port is open right now if anyone would like a remote transferral. I don’t know how your briefing went but I was told that you would all take care of the scavenger hunt yourself. My folk are simply here to make noise and problems for any threats in the area of operations. There is a path for vehicles but it will be treacherous and the most open to hostile fire – it will slow us but just enough that we can match pace. All the better us than you – you will be doing a lot of movement through rough, forested terrain. Be prepared, Gnosis Eaters.”
He smiled to them all, his head slowly sweeping left and right. Was he looking for someone? And if so, who? After a while he closed the port and turned to his own squad, motioning for them to regroup and head to their transports. Just as suddenly as they had appeared, the group was getting prepared to leave, the engines of their huge machines revving as their mounted guns began to swivel.
Yrilovan had stepped out around this time, just as Gourlan entered his transport, and looked over to the Sect members he’d escorted this far.
“I will be on my way. I have some matters to deal with about this mission. When I get to base, I’m going to reach out to my higher ups and my contact with the Sect. We’ll need to stay in touch.” To that end, a number of blocky com devices, almost brick like in shape save for a thinner body that could be gripped, popped up in his hands and he passed them to the others. “I have no reason to stay but seeing that smug bastard’s face makes a lot of things not sit right with me. You watch yourself.”
++++++++++
The Sprawls, forested region of Caracosa
The appropriately titled Sprawls didn’t get their name for nothing. Moss covered trees bent like the old and the withered, barely maintained paths that stretched off into root-covered dirt piles, and past the treeline and over the edge of the mountain path, a maze of ancient vegetation that in spite of a number of grand craters and massive stretches of scorched forest, still seemed barely affected by the war. They could distantly see the group of APC’s moving up a badly maintained gravel paths, crumbling and dropping down into the treelines far below them, nearing an open area plateau area created by sustained bombing runs. It was impossible to tell where the hostiles were hiding, only that the sheer scope of it would be revealed soon.
For the Gnosis Eater team now making their way through the treacherous, misted terrain there were more pressing matters to deal with. They were assigned with finding a Sect base but there was a bit of a problem – they weren’t told how to. It was clear there was an idea of where to look and as far as anyone could be concerned, the base couldn’t have fallen yet. Whatever anyone thought of Gourlan and his team, it was clear they believed that they would be more than capable. He had all the reason to given it was known the Sect only chose the best of the best.
If the fungoid’s data was to be correct, their path through the woods would be fairly straightforward – keep moving northwards, remaining parallel to the Dolsilvecs even if they were divided by a treacherous, unknown wall of the wilderness. It wouldn’t be hard to keep track of them.
After all, barely a few minutes later and the sound of heavy calibre automatic weaponry and hissing energy weapons could be heard. Flashes of light lit up the woods a few thousand feet away and distant blasts echoed over the staccato argument between dolsilvec and rebel arms.
<Gourlan here. The madness begins. Let us see who can complete their work first now, Gnosis Eaters!> The tarrhaidim leader’s voice buzzed over their coms, followed by crackling and a scraping, unpleasant buzz. Those of the Dolsilvecs flashed a mixture of purple, yellow, and white. The rebels blue, green, and orange. Right now, the former were starting to drown the latter as storms of tracers scourged through trees and through distant black shapes, rendering an insurgent weapon silent.
Hidden from sight but not from scans, radar, and motion sensors, there was rapid movement just a few hundred metres away. Camo-fatigued forces could be seen moving deep through the faint fog with heavy footsteps and distant shouts – some in English, others in alien tongues. At least ten of them moving northwards along a similar path as Gourlan had outlined the Sect team was supposed to follow. Something was moving with them that wasn’t bipedal – they could hear some kind of mechanized gears whirring and heavier steps being taken, accented with crunching bark and loose soil slogging under its weight. Where exactly they were headed couldn’t be determined, at least not where they stood.
Whatever the source of that stomping sound was, it remained unseen as the silhouettes of the guerillas vanished, their footfalls becoming increasingly inaudible. The path forward for now, remained clear, but it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that any hostiles on this side were getting agitated and the mist could only hide one from their site for so long.
Further up ahead, where the insurgents had charged out of, the Sect team would be able to see what had seemed like a small camp further up on one of the hills, partially hidden by heavy bush but exposed when they had charged out of it, footsteps easily visible across the leaf-strewn floor. It wasn’t much – a few large rocks gathered around a small fire pit, a series of bio-mesh tents, and what looked like a pile of shells of some sort, snail like and covered in some sort of slimy fluid, next to a small hole in the ground with a shovel next to it. A long-bodied insect, looking something like a spinier ladybug larva, could be seen crawling near the round shells and some sort of ginger-y, pungent smell was coming from the tent.
They had left in a hurry – it was clear these ones were caught unexpected by the sudden Dolsilvec advance, but nothing of much worth could be seen here. Any weapons they had were taken with them and it was clear this was just a temporary hide out.
More gunshots off in the distance, blasts echoing over the mountains. Buzzing creatures shot off towards the sky, black shapes around the camp’s perimeter, and rustling could be heard all around. The forest was alive and it was clear as the battles grew more heated, the wildlife would grow further agitated. Time was of the essence – Gourlan’s team was heavily armed but there was no telling if it was only gauss guns the rebels had in store.
The path they had been travelling on was somewhat more exposed, closer to the edges of the elevated, hilly ground they had seen on the map. Yet another one was visible behind the tents – bushier and overgrown but clearly well used, either by animals or the guerillas. It seemed to head the same way but it didn’t look much easier to navigate, flatter but larger roots could be seen travelling across it with some only partially chopped open or cleared off – a few piles of chipped up wood could be seen.
It was less exposed but the problem was that there was no telling what could be hiding in here. After all, soldiers went missing in the Sprawl frequently and everybody knew it couldn’t always be chalked up to covert operators or clandestine engagements.
He stared down the path watching the mobilization of the local forces as he sat behind a tree. Most of his sensors were off but he could still see through the fog. Through the forest he noted everyone leaving towards the parallel route, but he knew there probably was a rearguard that would notice them.
"We should get going before they come back, there is probably a few left that we can get rid of if we are quick and quiet about it." he said as he lifted up the visor on his helmet so he could see far more clearly, "they are probably the wounded, but they will have at least one or two people watching over them."
He slowly lowered the visor once again as he stood up, he looked around the group and then back at the forest in front of them, "someone quiet go first maybe, or shall we just preceded with caution?" he asked as he pressed his lips together. He wished he had drank more water, his skin was still dry and cracked. Burned in some spots, but it wasn't anything that he hasn't gone through before. He wished he had his two crates, but he will have to make due with what they had.
Survival was nothing new. War was like nature, you either learned fast and adapt, or die. Rho-Hux had waged many different wars on many alien worlds. It was in the fires of the battlefield that he realized what he was...a killer and a damn good one at that. He spent most of his career as a major and might have become more than that if it was for an I N C I D E N T that led to him being discharged. The UCL wanted nothing more to do with him. Those highborn, white-noose-collared, silver-spooned, test-tube babies that made up high command thought Rho-Hux was "unstable" and "a disgrace" for participating in "war crimes". That load of shit was so big it could be classified as a dwarf planet! There were no rules to warfare, just as there were no rules to nature. Does an Earth sea turtle cry to its mommy when the mean seagull bites its flippers? HELL, NO, that turtle gets off its ass and runs! It cares nothing for its slower siblings, they are weak and a liability. The little bastard runs all the way to the ocean, where it fights sharks, crabs, and all manner of predators just so it can bang another equally strong sea turtle. That was nature, that was war, fight, win, expand! Shit, that was just the tip of the ice burg when it came to the nature of kill or be killed that was woven into the galaxy. Point was, the UCL leadership had gone soft and had put this killer animal in the inhuman petting-zoo known as a "Psychiatric ward".
Well after a couple of years wasting away in there on a diet of pills and sterilized canned food, Rho-Hux had almost forgotten who he was. When he was released from that institution, he struggled to find his place in the world. That was until some bigwigs at The Sect got word that The Constrictor of Caddadast, Rho-Hux, had been released. It didn't take them too long to remind Rho-Hux of the nature of the world, and when they told him about this secret mission of theirs, Rho-Hux remembered what he was meant to do. It was like instinct, like nature. As much as Rho-Hux hated what the UCL leadership did to him, he still considered the UCL to be his pack. He learned everything he knew from them and he thought and died by their side. So when he heard that a couple of sons a' bitches decided to go rogue and betray their brothers in arms, Rho-Hux knew he was destined to kill them.
Well, it seemed these insurgents were hell-bent on pissing off Rho-Hux. Before he was even planet-bound, his team's drops malfunctioned as they entered the atmosphere. When he crashed landed did he try to call for help? Look for the other sect members? OF COURSE, NOT, HE WAS IN WAR NOW! HE RAN, HE RAN INTO THAT OCEAN OF A JUNGLE LOOKING FOR MORE! ANY WHO WERE LEFT BEHIND WERE WEAK AND DESERVED TO DIE! For the past week, he had been surviving in the planet's rainforest, hunting for his prey. He had managed to kill a few insurgents scouts, but not enough to satisfy his hunger. He needed more, but there was only so much an old beast like him could do alone. Well, a week of eating slightly poisonous bugs and strange roots does a lot of negative things to a mad man's mind. Rho-Hux was ready to throw caution to the wind can raid the insurgent's base all by his lonesome until he spotted a large multi-species group through the overgrowth.
There were two humans: One covered in black and gold armor, and the other a tree trunk of a human man. With them was a Voidhanger, a Vrexul, a Celaderaka, and some sort of chimera of animals twisted to resemble a Vrexul. They didn't carry themselves like insurgents, or former UCL for that matter. Armour and weaponry were all over the place. They looked bettered repaired than the hastily assembled SECT group he had been a part of. Still, he didn't want to take too many unnecessary chances. Activating his Octopus armor, he blended into the trees and climbed from tree to tree. He kept two of his hands clasped around his guns in case he needed to go ballistic.
"Well, looks like I just found the island of misfit toys!" Rho-Hux shouted in his old commanding voice. God, he missed scaring new recruits, but he doubted this group would be easy to intimidate. Good, he didn't need one else slowing down the mission. "This is Former Major Rho-Hux. My unit is on a mission to kill some back world UCL insurgents. If I thought you were the insurgents we wouldn't even be having this pleasant little chat right now. Tell me who sent ya and I might consider playing nice!"
Something was still not adding up, but for the moment Zsresrinn did not see any better alternatives than following through with the plan they had and seeing if things would become clearer along the way. In the worst case, any hidden threats would eventually reveal themselves so that she could deal with them simply and straightforwardly. She took one of the comms devices given out by Yrilovan in a flexible upper limb and drew it into her shell. The carapace parted like an opening mouth before it, letting the transmitter sink into a layer of sludgy grey flesh beneath, and closed again once it had mostly submerged, with only the upper side protruding out as though it had been built into her body.
The path into the Sprawls was uneven, but navigable. The many-limbed vrexul had a somewhat easier time making her way over the harsh terrain than her bipedal companions, clambering over ancient mossy roots and stones that protruded into their path. Thick trees and light fog made for good cover without clouding her own vision too much. Her finer senses could pick out the enemy moving not too far away, no doubt startled by the firefight off to the side. Better not to engage them now, not without knowing how many and how well-armed.
Their camp was predictably not too distant, along with a path they must have been using. If they had not closed it, it must have had some use to them.
“Scouting preferable,” she scraped to Paris’ question. With their heavy equipment, including her own, going in blind was too much of a risk. She released a small cloud of parasitic drones, which scattered and swept towards the less exposed path, keeping close to the ground. She could not see too far ahead through them, but it was better than nothing.
A call nearby drew her focus away from the synchronised eyes. She turned, now without some annoyance, in the newcomer’s direction. Camouflaged, but sounded like a gealtirocht. A Leaguer, or ex-Leaguer, no difference. Irritation gave way to wariness. For all that he claimed to be only hunting insurgents, the League were enemies of the vrexul, always and everywhere. Best be careful with this one.
“Allegiance to Gnosis Eaters, currently,” she snapped, “You?”
