In the silence that comes with a stifling night, a high-pitched whine arose. In the distance, if one had been around to see it, a blue-white star appeared on the horizon. As it drew near, the noise from its engines grew in intensity. When the craft stopped its forward motion, it could be seen more clearly. Its cockpit was small compared to the fuselage, similar to a greenhouse in shape. The box-like fuselage had two stubby pylons, each extending to either side, from which a pair of engines projected. In normal flight the thrust ports faced the rear of the drop ship, but in order to accurately dump its cargo they now faced the ground, creating a cushion of air that allowed the ship to hover.
Silently the cargo bay doors slid open and out came a much more remarkable machine. In the dull moonlight, its normally bright red and orange armor seemed devoid of any color. As it extended to full height, its features could be better seen: a human-shaped vehicle armed with several deadly weapons, their muzzles blackened from use. Its single red eye probed the landscape for its target and signaled the drop ship to leave. A bright light on the mech's back flared and it sped off into the dark night.
When the armored core pilot known as Rage found the Chrome building he was looking for, he activated his boosters and began his final approach. En route to the mission, he reviewed the parameters: infiltrate the building, seek out the central computer, and destroy it. He cut the power feed to the energy jets that had quickly brought him to the borders of the enforced security perimeter in order to avoid detection by the observation mecha. Unfortunately, the lab he was heading toward had posted surveillance towers in the surrounding hills.
In these times after the war known as the Great Destruction, in which the fallout from countless nuclear weapons had forced the sparse survivors deep into the earth, the Corporations had begun harshly governing all people after they had re-emerged. All people, that is, except the Ravens. These were men and women who had allegiance with no country, Corporation, or any other organized body except their own kindred; they were mercenaries. All Ravens used a machine called an AC, short for armored core. During the humans' exile from the surface, scientists developed a form of robotic technology that surpassed any known before: the Muscle Tracer. These robots, called MTs, had precise control systems and were incredibly versatile. The most common use for these towering machines became, of course, combat. In later years manufacturers conceived the "core" concept. The core served as the torso of the machine and was the basis of the entire construction: the head, arms, legs, internal components, and shoulder-mounted weapons were attached there. This type of variable-configuration system allowed for customization and even greater versatility. Thus, the armored core was born. As the ruling Corporations grew in power, they required soldiers to perform their tasks: guard duty, escort, sabotage, and every other use for armored vehicles. While almost all Corporations had sizable MT armies as well as AC pilots under their control, they often turned to the most skilled pilots in the world: the mercenaries from the Ravens' Nest. Among the most influential Corporations were Murakumo Millennium and Chrome. All companies participated in the healthy competition that forced them to turn out the best products, but Murakumo and Chrome took the concept to a violent level. The occasional sabotage and security requested by the smaller Corporations multiplied, becoming military action. Because of the common skirmishes between the companies, Chrome's most important lab was prepared for trouble. Its sentries alerted the security center, which in turn laid a trap for the incoming Raven.
Rage was suspicious when his entry when unannounced on the tac net. In fact, all but auxiliary power in the building seemed disabled. He had been forced to blast his way through the main entrance when he found that the lock and servo system were out.
I guess I'm lucky today, he thought with little enthusiasm.
Furthermore, Rage encountered only a skeleton defense crew on his way to the central computer. Just as his suspicion peaked, and his intuition told him to leave, the floor beneath him collapsed, most likely from a motion-sensitive mine's explosion. "Dammit!" he yelled. Rage noticed that his radar painted what must have been fifty blips, all below. He noted the configuration of the room as he landed: a perfect circle, with corridors leading into it like spokes on a wheel.
The first wave of MTs flooded in from all sides, catching the young pilot in a deadly crossfire of energy bolts. Reflexively, Rage jumped above the chaos, safe for only a second while the sights of the assailing robots re-acquired their target. Due to his skills as a pilot, a second was all Rage needed. He boosted so that the back of his AC was almost against the side of the circle, in between two passages; in so doing, he cut off half of the fire from his enemies while widening his field of view. As he landed, Rage activated his most powerful weapon, a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher. He knelt the AC because if it was knocked flat on its ass, the AC wouldn't last long. He pulled the trigger, causing a twenty-inch shell to rocket forth and, due to its large explosive radius, eliminate several targets at once. The MTs were the standard low-cost security model. They had weak armor and even weaker guns, so Rage, especially kneeling, was in little danger from a single enemy's fire. In the massive numbers attacking, though, he would be picked apart slowly. Rage quickly abandoned the idea of boosting back to the hole into which he had fallen. Exposing himself for that long would be a disaster. However, Rage knew that his grenade launcher wouldn't last forever. Although there were presently no MTs in the central hub, he knew that many more were approaching. As soon as the next wave came at him, he saw the ammunition manifest on his heads-up display: the launcher had three shots left. A group of MTs attacked.
Two shots. They kept coming.
One shot. How could he have been so stupid?
And then he was out of grenades. He switched to another weapon, a rapid-fire machine gun that, while weak in terms of single-shot power, was extremely useful for clearing away enemies with a sustained burst. He finally gained another moment's respite. But even as he moved to go into a passage, the two entryways closest to him spat yet more mecha. In the dim tunnels, he could see the glint of the chicken-legged MTs armor and hear the priming of countless cannons. The collective hum of leg servos sounded like a premature dirge in Rage's ears. He stood once again, unconsciously, facing death with teeth bared and a yell in his lungs. In seconds, the room was clogged. In an instant, it all changed. The attacking muscle tracers froze. They turned to a side of the circle, at about a forty-five degree arc from where Rage stood. Their primitive computer minds were being directed toward another target. For a moment, the only noise in the circle of death was the charging of energy batteries. Then, the wall faced by the mecha exploded violently, the noise resounding throughout the facility. From the darkness beyond the gaping hole came a soft, pale luminescence that shimmered and grew in intensity, a low whine growing above the cacophony of discharged energy bolts and groaning metal. A crack tore the air; thunder. A wave of energy swept through the room and the mecha in its path were vaporized. Even those peripheral to it slagged like molten lead. An AC emerged from the darkness that struck Rage as one of the most intimidating he had ever seen. It was one of the humanoid variety, with treelike legs that could support extreme amounts of weight. It carried weapons that Rage had never seen before. He could guess what most of them were, however, from experience. In one hand it carried a long, sleek rifle that looked similar to the newest laser model. Its left shoulder boasted a missile rack that could have housed any large-yield explosive guided projectile. The other shoulder carried a rocket rack with explosive-tipped warheads. Its left arm held what was obviously the pilot's choice weapon: an extremely powerful blue laser blade that sliced through the enemies with almost no effort.
If it wasn't the armored core that impressed Rage, it was the pilot's ability. He mopped up the few remaining MTs in seconds. He hadn't been hit once. The AC paused in front of Rage. Then his intercom buzzed with a voice that he couldn't possibly forget, not for the rest of his life. It was cool and confident, but lacked the arrogance that most good pilots, including Rage, had. "Sorry I'm late," said the newcomer.
Exiting the facility turned out to be a chore. The pilot, who introduced himself as Alpha, had essentially blown his way into the building, and the remaining security forces found their way into the corridor from the outside and made Rage's progress difficult. Alpha would walk about fifty meters forward, stop, send a volley through the tunnel, and tell Rage to proceed. It took almost an hour to wind their way through the makeshift passage. Fortunately, Alpha had a transport waiting on standby. Within a minute of his radio call, the hovering transport found them and landed, allowing Rage to board through its rear entry hatch.
Rage noticed that Alpha was turning back to the facility. "Aren't you coming?"
Alpha stopped and faced Rage. It seemed strange that he used his AC to communicate as though he were talking man-to-man.
"I was hired as an additional Raven for this mission when Murakumo received last-minute intelligence regarding the upgraded security here. Your AC is quite banged up. Someone needs to finish this if you want to make your pay."
"You mean you're not taking any of the money?"
"I didn't come for credits. I came to give you a hand."
Like hell he did.
"Well, thanks for getting me out of that mess. I owe you."
Alpha entered his doorway. Rage told the pilot of the transport to head back to the Nest.
As soon as he got back, Rage headed straight for his quarters. He had a few questions about Alpha and his AC. Why had Alpha been there? Murakumo made no mention of hiring another Raven for the job. And how had he created that tunnel? There were certainly weapons powerful enough to blow such a sizable hole in the ground, but none of them had an ammunition supply large enough to tunnel. It was curious. Rage had to conclude that it was the same ghostly wave of energy that had vaporized or melted most of the muscle tracers. Of course, he didn't know what had created that, either.
Alpha's skill was mesmerizing to witness. If he had such impressive abilities, why had Rage not heard of him? Rage decided that he should try to learn more, so he took a day off.
It proved nearly impossible to find anything of use. Rage went to the Raven record library and accessed a list of Alpha's statistics through the Ravens' Nest Network. He had joined the Nest at the age of eighteen after completing his education at the Raven academy. Though there was no documentation of Alpha's life before he entered the academy, his time during and after had been carefully observed by analysts, Nest recruiters, and just about every party that would be interested in the hottest pilots on earth. From day one, Alpha had shown that his skill was far beyond what anyone had seen before. He forged a quite a reputation, and Alpha had a single mission failure out of well over two hundred successes. Performance and statistics records were nice, but Rage still had no idea who Alpha was. He asked the few other Ravens he knew, and they were instantly able to recall stories — bordering on legends — pertaining to Alpha. It seemed, however, that Alpha deliberately kept himself closed to most interaction with others, and in so doing, gave the impression that he preferred a solitary life. From this, he was able to understand why he had never heard of the man before their run-in.
He had to take a break. Having spent almost a full two days away from his developing social life, Rage decided to find his way to a bar and rest from the mind-bending research.