91
"What would you do in my position?" I asked.
Altea's fingers crossed together in front of her.
To our side, the Founder, currently in Performance mode, was seated. "Is it even possible?" He asked.
I nodded, looking at the center of the table between us. "For those in this galaxy, I could do it. It would be a considerable undertaking even for me, but if I wanted to, I could do it." I looked between them for a moment. "But I'm uncertain if I should."
"How many?" Altea asked.
"Seven hundred and forty six." I paused for a moment. "In this galaxy, that is. In the Hierarchy's home galaxy, hundreds more- but, in their case, the answer to the question 'is it even possible' is not 'yes', but 'maybe'."
Altea's head dipped, her eyes closing as a sorrowful sigh left her.
Life was absolutely fucking plentiful in this universe, as it turned out.
And, in turn, the number of species that had been wiped out by the Hierarchy had been haltingly large.
"Our program does not account for such a matter."
"You say that like you're incapable of making decisions outside of your program." I looked at him. "We both know the truth of the matter, there." I looked away again. "But what would you do, if you could re-seed the species the Hierarchy destroyed?"
"Would they be exactly the same?" Altea asked.
"Unlikely." I shook my head. "There is only so much data that I can gleam from light echoes. Only so much more that I could learn from processing and calculating it. The longer a species has been dead, the more effort it will take, the higher chance of inaccuracy... Short of gaining post-cognition, I would not be able to guarantee that they'd be exactly the same." Though... given a sufficient amount of time, chances are that I would eventually stumble upon a setting where either time travel or post-cognition was not only possible, but something I could replicate.
I've stumbled upon RTS settings three times so far, so... Maybe Achron?
If I'm limited to just RTS settings, anyway. Three is a rather small sample pool; for all I know, I could hit Terminator. Or even Back to the Future.
I hope I don't hit Doctor Who, though. That's one place where I'd be shit out of luck.
"Even with the intuitive aptitude from your teachings, Altea, I could only make them similar." I continued seamlessly. "And that is part of the reason why I am unsure of doing this. Any species that I seed would only be facsimiles of the original. There's also the fact that even if I did make perfect copies, they'd be just that; copies. The original would still be dead. Thus; do I create facsimiles of the originals so that they might continue to exist in some form, or do I not, and leave the dead to be remembered?"
Altea took a sip from her drink -a Masari equivalent of wine-, giving a considering hum.
"The only context I have on this matter is Mirabel." The Founder stated.
"Who has died repeatedly, and who you have cloned every single time." I noted. "But that is a different matter, isn't it? Mirabel is Quyion."
The Founder nodded. "Novus has a connection to Mirabel. These other species are unrelated."
"Yes." I took a sip from my glass.
Interesting taste on the Masari wine.
I held it in front of me, looking the crystalline lattice of its molecules, noting every single imperfection, every single slightly out of place atom, every single spinning electron, every single nucleus, bound protons and neutrons...
"It is unlikely that I would do it." The Founder stated. "It is unlikely that Novus would restore another species. Even the decision to revive Mirabel was made with more emotion than I care to admit. We sought guidance, and the comfort that at least one of our creators would still live." He paused for a moment. "Mirabel's first death... shook us severely."
I nodded.
"Personally..." Altea set her glass down, looking at me. "I would refrain."
I looked up to her.
"Admittedly, I am biased in this situation." She shook her head, slowly. "The Hierarchy's ascension to power was the fault of the Masari-"
"It really wasn't."
"I view it as the fault of the Masari." She continued. "Our mistake lead to their destruction. If I were not capable of restoring them to exactly what they were before, then I would not do it." She looked up for a moment. "In my view, any Masari creating something that is similar to, but different than them would only be an attempt to hide the mistakes of the past." She shook her head slowly, again. "In my view, at least. And only for the Masari. That is my bias- you, who did not commit our mistake, are fully free to do as you wish."
I gave a considering hum.
"Thank you."
I guess... not, then.
"A question."
I looked up, glancing at Altea. "Yes?"
"How many species still live in this galaxy?"
"Six hundred and thirty seven." Less than half... "The Hierarchy made a point of targeting probable life-bearing planets first." The closest one was about 242 light years away. "Some of them are even pretty advanced."
Not advanced enough to stop the Hierarchy. Few could pose a threat to even the Novus, much less the Hierarchy.
"Though none of them could pose a threat to the Hierarchy." I took another slip. "Thankfully, they'll never have to test themselves against them." Because the Hierarchy was very, very dead.
Just in case, I'd even indexed them, cataloguing their genetic code, culture, technologies, planet, natures...
The data I'd gathered ensure that I could re-develop their entire biosphere from nothing if I wanted to. I'd catalogued literally hundreds of alien biospheres...
And that wasn't even counting the biospheres that lacked sapient species.
"I'll be leaving soon." I shifted the topic. "My self-appointed task here is done, and... well, I've always been prone to wanderlust." I wanted to explore, to seek out, to obtain and admire and interact...
Ripped from my old life, thrust into this one. A cruelty and a gift in the same moment.
I held my hands out, golden light briefly gathering before condensing into three separate items, three small, chrome, black, and blue communicators.
Two floated to Altea and the Founder, settling on the table in front of them.
"Communicators." I answered the unspoken question. "Should you ever wish to contact me."
The third came to hover by my side. That one was for Orlok.
The Founder took his in a hand, examining it. Altea merely slipped hers into her dress, hiding it in an unseen pocket. "Thank you."
I smiled, before standing up. "Have a nice day, you two." I tucked the chair in, and then walked out.
I should get a hat. Something classy...
I hummed aloud.
Yeah.
Yeah...
92
Orlok was in the middle of inventorying the contents of the Command Ships when I teleported in.
"So I'll be leaving, soon." Was the first thing I said.
Orlok turned around, facing me.
The communicator floated forwards, settling on the console that Orlok had been working on. "A communicator." I stated. "Should you wish to contact me."
He picked it up, delicately holding it with his Crusher Claw. "I see."
I nodded, before vanished again.
One last visit...
"General." I greeted, taking a seat opposite of the man.
He was in a restaurant, currently nursing a cup of strong coffee.
"Drich." He grunted. "You want something?"
"In a manner of speaking." I slid a pair of communicators across the table to him.
A raised eyebrow was his response.
"Communicators." Which I had said far too many times.
"Communicators for who, exactly?"
"Me, general." I smiled. "Both will allow somebody to talk to me. The first is for whoever you wish to give it to. Maybe a governmental figure, for when your species gets back on its feet, whatever." I'd restored a lot of the damage that the Hierarchy had done, but...
Well, lost lives are still lost.
"The other is for you." He took a sip of his coffee at that. "I like you. You're one of the few who, in the middle of an alien invasion, had the chutzpah to pick up a minigun and lead a resistance movement. I can admire that."
It took a special kind of crazy to do that.
"This'll be the last time we see you?" He asked.
"Maybe." I shrugged. "I might come back, I might not. Either way; have a nice day, general."
My Warp Chasm finished construction, a Wormhole tearing open above it.
Unnecessary, yes- But it was the point of the matter.
Sure, I could just build another body on the other side, or transfer my consciousness across, or whatever, but I wanted walk back.
I held Little1's Avatar against me, my arms wrapped around his chest.
"A little over seven months." I noted. "Time to go off again, what do you think?"
He nodded.
"Pick a star."
He looked up, eyes flicking over night sky of Exapol, before pointing at one.
"The fourth closest?" I asked.
He nodded again.
"Well then, let's see where we go this time."
Halfway across the planet, an accelerator array activated.
And so it begins again.
A flash of purple light heralded my arrival in yet another backwater planet, another world undoubtedly filled with interesting things.
What awaits me this time, I couldn't help but wonder.
Strange technologies (That I could steal assimilate)?
Interesting plots (That I could derail)?
Complex peoples (Who I could meet)?
Oh, I can barely even wait~
My sensors identified thousands of objects, a number of floating, oddly shaped objects in the upper stratosphere. Beneath them, hovering at 7 kilometres above the ground, were yet more objects-
Which, now that I'm looking at them, I recognized as Cradle airships.
Cradles...
Armored Core: For Answer.
Heh.
Heheh.
Pfftahahahahahahaha!
Oh dear, I'll be having a lot of fun here~
I took a moment to remember the world of Armored Core.
4, and For Answer specifically, as the games constituted multiple different universes.
What to say about it?
Well, it was a shithole.
To start... not going too far into detail; massive overpopulation had led to resources and food being stretched thin, which led to civil unrest, terrorism, and, ultimately, violence.
Governments, already on the verge of collapse and unable to control their populations, were destroyed in the event known as the National Dismantlement War, where six powerful companies temporarily joined forces and took over, installing a system known as the Pax Economica; where loyalty and service to a company guaranteed food and survival, at the cost of much personal freedom.
Shit, already rolling downhill, hit the fan when the corporations that had briefly allied separated, engaging each other in a cold war that led to even more death and destruction.
Until, ultimately, things came to a head and all-out war erupted, an event known as the Lynx War.
The Lynx War fucked up the already fucked up situation even further, as it led to massive amounts of Kojima contamination being spilled absolutely fucking everywhere, rendering much of the surface uninhabitable.
Desperate for a solution, the remaining companies built the Cradle System, a large number of floating airships that housed the majority of Earth's remaining population, 20 million in each airship, several airships in each Cradle.
Unfortunately, some poor schmucks got left behind, which prompted a number of Lynx -the mercenary pilots of the NEXTS- to form an organisation known as ORCA.
At some point or another, the companies joined together to create the League of Ruling Companies, ostensibly to foster peace and order.
However, as the companies were collectively dumber than a sack of bricks and more greedy than an entire murder of particularly avaricious crows, that didn't happen.
The League, meant to represent the collective opinion of the corporations, instead was usually a front for one in particular; Omer Science, which, of course, prompted the other companies to act alone and continue fucking themselves and each other over.
Also at some point or another, one company developed and manufactured the Assault Cells, floating weapons platforms, and a way to prevent the other companies from getting into space.
The other companies promptly did exactly the same thing, until, in the end, there were so fucking many Assault Cells that nobody was getting into space.
Which is a problem for a simple reason.
The Cradle Airships hover at 7 kilometres above the ground, because everything below is heavily polluted.
Only, the power systems, collectively referred to as Arteria, that supply the Cradles with energy, necessary to allow them to remain flying above the ground, is also causing massive amounts of pollution.
As the pollution grows more and more severe, the Cradles will have to rise further and further into the air.
Where the Assault Cells are waiting to shoot them down.
I definitely had my work cut out for me here, didn't I?
93
Well, not really.
It wasn't like they had much that could actually threaten me.
And if I operated even remotely competently, they really wouldn't stand a chance.
Anyway...
Goals.
What do I want?
Technology, obviously. Wouldn't take too long, everybody here was planet-bound, and being planet-bound ensured that I could get access to everything in the next... oh, 8 hours or so.
Ensuring the survival of the civilian populace. Bit more difficult, but... Well, no, that was easily done. Protecting the Cradles would ensure their immediate survival.
Long term, however...
Bit more complicated.
So many things to do.
...
Though before I get going, I really should find out where in the timeline I am.
It would make things...
Much more organized.
But...
Where to land?
Somewhere away from everyone, undoubtedly. Someplace where the crash of my re-entry pod would go unnoticed.
Hmm.
The ocean?
Yeah... That'll work. After I slow down a little, of course.
My arrival was fairly smooth, all things considered.
I'd crashed into the ocean at a fairly gentle velocity, my re-entry pod disintegrating into nanobots around me.
Afterwards, I simply sank.
Right down to the bottom of the ocean.
Hidden from everything.
Heh.
Not that it mattered, I could have been sitting on top of a Cradle airship and they would have never known unless I wanted them to.
My Fabricator glowed as a wave of nanobots spilled out, swimming through the ocean, over to a small portion of the seabed, beginning to form into a Hub Network.
Soon.
A couple hours, and it would spread over the planet. I would have access to everything on the ground, and then some.
I couldn't wait~
But what to do, honestly?
I had an idea. I wasn't entirely sure whether I should go through with it or not, but I had an idea.
One that could prove... simultaneously entertaining, and lucrative.
Not in the sense of money -I had no use for it, obviously-, but in achieving my goals.
Just had to... play the game for a little, so to speak.
Hours passed.
My Hub Network slowly infiltrated every location on the ground.
Which really meant; everything of nominal interest.
Including the databases of the Companies that ruled this planet.
Data, data, data...
So wonderful.
All mine, now.
Things of importance:
First; technology.
They had a lot of interesting stuff.
From Arms Forts, to Normals, to Muscle Tracers, to, of course, NEXTs.
NEXT technology was advanced and powerful. Surprisingly efficient, too. Two things separated them from the Normals, MTs, and Arms Forts; the Actuator Complexity System, and the Allegorical Manipulation System.
The first was an advanced mechanical design that gave the NEXTs an incredible range of movement and fine control, while the latter was what truly turned them into utterly dangerous machines.
Effectively, the pilot's nerves would be directly linked with their machine's electronics, allowing them lightning fast reaction times and almost perfect manipulation of the system.
A lot of things were required to make that work. A pilot would need a good deal of compatibility with the AMS system in order to operate it for lengthened periods of time, as the use of the system could cause a considerable degree of psychological stress on the pilot.
Exceptions existed, but they weren't really important at the moment.
The AMS also doubled as a life support system, which, combined with a not inconsiderable degree of genetic engineering and bodily enhancement, enabled the pilot to tolerate and survive the extreme G-forces and physical trauma a NEXT could incur through typical operation.
There was a small, problematic side effect involved. Not too big of a deal; there was just a feedback issue where, should a NEXT sustain critical damage, the pilot's nervous system could shut down, leading to almost certain death.
That was sarcasm, if you couldn't tell.
Anyway, that's why a NEXT is dangerous. MTs and Normals both simply aren't fast enough, or capable of reacting quick enough to the average NEXT, not even considering their Primal Armour.
Primal Armour was another interesting technology.
A subset of Kojima Technology, which was part of the reason that the NEXTs surpassed their predecessors, the Normals, so easily.
The various companies used it for a lot of things. Energy generation, defence, offense...
Too many, really. Especially as its use was what had fucked up this planet so badly...
Continuing; Generators operated off Hydrogen fuel cells, acting as a nuclear fusion generator. A separate, particularly tricky and quite clever process caused a decay in the resultant hot helium atoms back into a single hydrogen atom, and Kojima Particles -each of which massed only slightly more than an electron-, ultimately releasing yet more energy.
Tricky.
Clever.
The lowest quality generators could approach nearly 4% conversion of mass into energy. The highest quality approached 18%.
Very impressive.
If not for the fact that Kojima Particles were incredibly radioactive, highly corrosive, and utterly poisonous, I might have even praised it as a useful source of energy.
Unfortunately, those very traits of Kojima Particles were what had led to the companies deciding to abuse them.
Primal Armour was the effort to turn the dangerous Kojima Particles into a shield, by using the particle's own properties to their advantage.
See, Kojima Particles have a habit of turning semi-solid when interacting with each other. Ergo, by releasing enough Kojima Particles into the air and shaping them into a thin, spherical shape, one would have a wall of Kojima Particles surrounding them.
A fast moving object, like, say, a bullet, would hit that wall, and the energy of the object would cause the Kojima Particles to condense, and thus turn semi-solid.
The effect was two-fold. First, the solid wall of particles slowed down the object, and second, the corrosive properties of the Kojima Particles would rapidly erode it, rendering it much less dangerous.
As a result, Primal Armour would drastically reduce the damage a NEXT would suffer from solid-shell weaponry.
Key point there, solid-shell weaponry. Plasma and Laser Weaponry both had a considerable ability to penetrate Primal Armour, as the former had much lower mass and dealt damage mainly through heat and radiation, and the latter had irrelevant amount of mass and thus simply bypassed it entirely.
A reverse of the Primal Armour existed, in the form of Assault Armour, which is basically taking Primal Armour and shoving it outwards so that the wall of Kojima Particles can wreck everything nearby.
A lot more stuff to go into, but that bit was what was immediately important.
The second thing that was important was the time period.
I was in... fairly early, all things considered.
As in, the Spirit of Motherwill is still intact and operational- though not for much longer, as Omer Science Technology was in the final stages of developing a plan of attack against it.
Still, that was quite a bit of time.
Lots of time, really. A lot of freedom for my actions.
My idea was viable.
And I suppose I should actually explain what it was, shouldn't I?
Well, to start;
It was both a fairly simple and fairly silly thing, really. See, I had the idea of presenting a front through which I could operate out in the open, so to speak, while still hiding everything in reserve.
Chances are it wouldn't work out as well as I'm hoping, but the ruse doesn't need to stay up for long.
Since the corporations of the League ruled the world, I planned to establish my own... 'company', let's say.
Naturally, it would be shrouded in secrets and nobody would ever really be sure of anything about it- but that was beside the point.
The point was to establish my own little theatre of operations, and, at the same time, push my goals forward.
Since I didn't intend to contribute to the current problems of this planet, I'd need to do a little bit of re-designing.
Kojima was one of the main problems. And I think I had an idea on where to start with on decreasing it.
"Intelligence failure? Intelligence failure?!"
Oh boy.
Today was going to be a long day, he just knew.
"We missed an entire fucking compound being set up!" His superior yelled.
"In an extremely remote, highly polluted area." He pointed out.
"Exactly!" The shrill, annoying voice continued yelling. "Any construction in that area should have been such a massive undertaking that nobody could have missed it!"
His name was Damien. He was employee IS-008874 of Omer Science. He was oft described as a simple, unassuming man.
His direct superior was Allison. She was employee SM-IS-000445 of Omer Science. She was oft described as an intelligent, hardworking woman with curves in all the right places.
They worked in the Intelligence Services.
It was not often a rewarding job.
Today, especially.
By sheer chance, one of Omer Science's scout drones had malfunctioned, taking it out a bit further than it was normally programmed.
Nobody had really expected anything to be found, but since the drone was old and already on the edge of its lifespan, nobody had cared.
Everybody had quickly started caring when the scout drone flew over the Alaskan wastes, locating an unidentified facility in the process.
They'd had all of 5 seconds to stare at it before the drone had finally died, cutting off the feed.
The image of it was still frozen on the screen next to them; demonstrating a tall, dark grey, deep blue building, a number of golden lines highlighting it and providing a contrast against the surface.
Etched into the front, also in golden letters, were the words 'Raven's Nest'.
"The boss is going to be pissed." Allison rubbed her temples.
"On the plus side, at least we won't have to be the ones to inform him?" He offered.
Allison sighed, before shrugging. "Yeah. That's Jeff's problem now."
He never liked Jeff anyways.
94
I'll admit, it actually took quite a bit of effort developing what I wanted.
Mostly because of the limit I placed- without which, it was very, very easy.
That limit effectively boiled down to 'Anything that this planet was theoretically capable of doing on their own, without the introduction of outside technologies'.
A fairly... generous limitation, all things considered.
Anyway, Kojima was the main problem contributing to the destruction of this world.
That in mind, and limitation on hand, I had attempted two things.
First; to match or surpass the energy generation that could be achieved, while maintaining either minimal or no Kojima out.
Second; to find a way to reduce the amount of Kojima contamination, and restore liveability to an existing area.
It was... actually quite hard for the first.
The Helium to Hydrogen and Kojima Particles decay was efficient when it came to converting mass into energy, and, per unit of mass without dipping into more esoteric sciences, antimatter was more or less the next step up.
Useful amounts of antimatter, however, was hard to contain with the technology they had, and harder still to generate.
Instead, I simply pushed the efficiency of the reaction to the extreme.
The highest efficiency the corporations could reach pushed 18% conversion of mass into energy, which I had said before. My version, relying on materials science that pushed the very edges of the theoretical capability of the corporations, pushed 44%.
The result meant extremely low Kojima Particle production. Only 6% of the mass converted into them, instead of 32%.
That 6%, however, was still too high for my tastes.
Thus came the second system, one which took cues from the concept of Primal Armour.
Primal Armour shaped the Kojima Particles into a sphere through a process known as a 'Rectification', capturing them in an electromagnetic field and using an electrical charge to maintain the integrity of sphere.
I'd done more or less the same thing, except instead of ejecting the particles into the atmosphere for use in Primal Armour, I'd captured them internally in a very, very powerful electromagnetic field, sufficient enough to condense into a very small space.
From there, I was relying on the Kojima Particle's own properties, which were best described as being all kinds of what the fuck. Kojima Particles, when reacting with... pretty much anything, emitted photons. Normally invisible, once they achieved a considerable density, this glow would appear a sickly green, and render clumps of Kojima Particles visible to the naked eye.
An important thing to note is that, if it keeps that up long enough, it will eventually decay entirely into photons. Not a quick process by any means, but it was a way to decrease the number of Kojima Particles floating around.
With the relatively small amount of Kojima Particles my generator released, it would be possible to contain them all inside these Kojima traps until they decayed completely, leaving the surrounding environment unharmed.
Furthermore, for cleaning up already existing Kojima contamination, I had designed much larger Kojima traps, appearing as large spikes stretching into the air. The principle was pretty much the same, save that they could generate electromagnetic fields of sufficient strength to draw in Kojima Particles from the entire surrounding area, removing the contamination and leaving the particles themselves safely contained within the field.
I had a plan to slowly leak the designs of the latter to the corporations. Since the world was a crapsack, they would eventually start building them, if only because it would be cheaper to revitalise areas with those spikes than it would be to continue building more Cradles.
Anyway- those weren't the only things I'd been working on.
I should probably stop there, though. Otherwise, I'd be continuing for quite some time.
Back to my plan;
The 'establish a company' thing was more or less done, as was the 'discovery' of it.
Now, I only had a few things left to do before I entered the stage.
"You heard about the new Lynx?" He asked.
"Yeah." His co-worker grumbled.
His name was Michael. He worked in Global Armaments' spy agency.
His co-worker was Corey. He also worked in Global Armament's spy agency.
If someone were to tell the average worker that, their response would be 'GA has a spy agency?'
"Just dropped out of nowhere and registered with Collared. Didn't give names or anything, just registered for missions."
"Tch. Typical Independent Lynx action." His co-worker scoffed.
"Except for one thing," Michael continued. "An organisation name. Get this: Raven's nest."
Corey blinked. "You're shitting me."
"Nope!" Michael grinned. "Out and out announced it."
"Huh." Corey looked to the side, considering. "Omer's going to blow a gasket."
"Yeah, it's great." Michael stretched a bit. "Really, though? How ballsy do you have to be to just out and out state that. It'll be drawing so much interest and scrutiny..."
"Maybe that was the plan?" Corey speculated. "They couldn't hide any longer, so they announced their presence in a way that would draw a hell of a lot attention. They got a Lynx, and if the Lynx is up to snuff, that'll rake in the credits."
"Or it could bring Omer down on their heads." Michael pointed out. "Alaska is smack dab in the middle of Omer's area of influence."
"Not really." Corey shook his head. "GA could take the area if they wanted, but Alaska's a wasteland, and nobody wants it. It's only under Omer's influence because they're the closest. And if Omer did try to project into that area, GA would fall upon them because that would put them uncomfortably close to some GA facilities."
"Yeah. Which brings up the question of who they are and how they managed to set up in that area." Michael hummed. "Though there's also Omer's plan to attack the Spirit of Motherwill. That's meant to be coming up pretty soon, yeah?"
"Apparently." Corey agreed. "That'll take the heat off Raven's Nest for a while, at least. Think they planned it?"
"Nah. There's building out in the middle of nowhere, and then there's planning a reveal. Nobody could plan that. It was just luck."
"Well, one thing's for certain. Things are about to get interesting."
95
As a consequence of how my desire to not contribute at all to the pollution of this world, the NEXT that I had designed was much different from the standard.
Without outputting Kojima Particles on its own, it would be unable to generate Primal Armour on demand. Subsequently, without Primal Armour, it would be unable to Over-boost, and without Kojima Particles, it would be unable to Quick-boost.
At least... not in the traditional sense.
Lacking the defensive ability offered by Primal Armour, I had instead equipped it with extremely high-end armour, drawing from my knowledge of materials science- though still operating under the restriction of 'what the corporations were theoretically capable of'.
The end result was an extremely durable, heat resistant, yet lightweight compound, providing good protection against solid shell, plasma and laser weaponry.
Absolutely nothing compared to what I could do if I wasn't restricting myself, but hey.
The boosters equipped to it had been overhauled to deal with the massive amount of energy it generated, far and away surpassing any other NEXT. The basic, main boosters generated nearly thrice the thrust of the already unreasonably powerful high-end thrusters available to a NEXT, something that was repeated with the side and back boosters.
I didn't want a NEXT that could fly, I wanted a NEXT that could dance in the skies.
For Over-boosting and Quick-boosting, I'd done a little different.
Beginning with the latter, for very brief, needed bursts of speeds, I'd equipped the boosters with the ability to 'overcharge', pushing beyond safe limits for that extra burst of speed. It could sustain that, but doing so was a very good way to utterly wreck the boosters in question, relegating it to short-lived bursts. The effect, and ultimate result, was the same as Quick-boosting.
Over-boosting, however, was very different. What I'd done was equip my NEXT with a large, extremely powerful and durable booster on the back, which would happily allow it to break the sound barrier with ease.
The end result made for a Next that was extremely fast, lightweight, and highly durable. Naturally, that meant it was very dangerous.
As for aesthetics...
Well, I drew inspiration from three sources, the first being the TYPE-LAHIRE, the second being the Nine-ball Seraph, and the third being the 03-AALIYAH.
The result was a lean, agile look, good for both reducing air resistance and just appearing completely fucking awesome, in my humble opinion.
I'd been half tempted to take inspiration from the 00-ARETHA, but the only thing I'd really liked about the ARETHA was its massive weapons.
Anyway, that was my NEXT.
I hadn't even mentioned all the fun little goodies I'd stuffed in.
I didn't have a name for it yet. But I'm sure I could come up with one eventually.
"Here's the mission."
Two days was all it took.
"The client is GA America. Your target is a Liliana insurgent group."
Ah, Liliana.
Possibly among the only group on this planet that I wouldn't mind wiping out to a man.
"This particular group has been raiding GA supply convoys. They're a fairly small group, but they have a few Normals available to them." A brief, amused chuckle rang out. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem for a NEXT."
Those poor insurgents.
"That's everything you need to know. Give a good show, and you'll attract a lot of opportunities your way."
GA had offered a transport for my NEXT. It was something that all the companies did, actually, in order to get the NEXTs to where they needed to go.
I'd refused.
I had my own transport.
With nothing to do while my NEXT was on the way, I identified the Liliana insurgents.
It was, as the mission briefing had stated, a small group. 13 of them piloting Normals, all stolen, 6 more in MTs, also all stolen.
The insurgents themselves were pretty typical of Liliana. All of them had murders and other violent crimes to their names, an entry requirement for Liliana.
Liliana wasn't a big group, but it was extremely radical and anti-establishment, the members committed to violence for violence's sake.
Subsequently, unwilling to negotiate and causing disruption wherever they went, the League often attempted to destroy them.
Sometimes, a group would cause enough chaos that the League would hire Lynx to wipe them out.
This group... hadn't actually done that. They were well on their way to doing that, yes, but they hadn't yet made a big name for themselves just yet.
It was, rather obviously, a test. They were hiring me so they could get an idea of my skill, my tactics, and the power of my NEXT.
One moment, they had been relaxing, waiting in preparation for another GA convoy.
The next, a burst of light tore its way through their leader's Normal.
And everything went to hell in a handbasket.
Three more Normals and the six MTs were destroyed before they managed to get into cover, hiding behind some of the rocky outcroppings of the area, where several meters of earth would hopefully keep them safe from whatever was shooting at them.
After that, there was only an unnerving silence.
He flicked a switch, activating his radio -no point in keep it off if they had already been discovered, was there?-, only for the sound of static to come rushing out.
He cursed.
Jamming.
As if they weren't screwed enough already.
To the right, one of other Normals stuck an arm out of cover. He half expected it to be immediately blown off, but nothing happened.
What were they waiting for?
A ping on his radar caught his attention, and he glanced at it.
Nine small purple dots appeared, green lines tracing relative elevation, all of which were shrinking rapidly.
Missiles.
He had barely completed the though before the missiles struck, each one striking between the Normals, cover rendered useless.
There was a bright, white light.
And then, there was nothing at all.
96
That was easy.
Weapon prototype test, successful.
Minor note; Micro-missiles are fun. I should use more of them.
My NEXT shifted slightly, holding its laser rifle out to the side as it went through a cooling cycle.
The rifle was... actually a considerably advanced design, even in comparison to the already cutting-edge tech that my NEXT employed.
Mostly because I'd effectively taken a High Intensity Laser Rifle, drastically increased the energy efficiency, power, and heat management until I had a rifle that out-classed every NEXT-grade Laser Cannon in sheer destructive capability, 'ammo' capacity, and fire rate.
It... had been fairly easy, really.
See, with the sole exception of Laser Blade weaponry, every NEXT-grade Laser weapon used coolant in order to make sure that the weapon didn't overheat and melt itself. The coolant was pretty useful, but also pretty expensive, and once it was used up, using a laser weapon would almost certainly wreck it.
Hence, a limited 'ammo' pool.
It wasn't really something that I couldn't deal with, but I wanted a laser rifle with effectively infinite ammo, and so I made one.
There was one small problem.
Because I wasn't using the coolant, the rifle had to go through a cooling cycle in order to disperse the heat. Not something it needed to do often, but it couldn't continually, endlessly fire, either.
"So we learned nothing?"
"I wouldn't say nothing." She smiled. "We learned that their laser rifle has quite some range. And we have an idea on their tactics."
"One battle does not a tactical analysis make." Came the retort.
"I was referring more to the fact that they didn't engage Primal Armour."
"An... odd decision for a Lynx, admittedly. Normally they'd only ever turn it off when told to."
"So there's what we've got. This Lynx used long-ranged tactics, has missiles, and didn't bother with Primal Armour. Did they simply not see the insurgents as a threat, or is there some other reason?"
"We don't have enough information to say." A sigh.
"So, more missions. It's not that hard."
"No. But it is money."
It'd take some time for the next mission to come. Maybe I'd be lucky and there'd be more than a single request, with each company looking to learn more, but...
I was, perhaps, slightly impatient.
Even when the missions did come, I had no guarantee of them being interesting.
So much time.
So little things to do.
My metaphorical fingers itched.
Through the eyes of my Avatar, I stared a hologram in the middle of the room.
My right hand was in the air, a shifting mass of Light and Dark energies hovering above it, constantly changing between forms. Right now, it was in the form of an enneract, and moving on to a dekeract.
Just practicing, really.
Little1's Avatar sat in my lap, also looking at the hologram.
It showed an image of the planet, as well as everything I'd located on the planet- which, of course, was everything.
"These corporations are very silly." Little1 leaned against me.
The pulsating energy winked out as I hugged him. "Yes they are."
The hologram shifted slightly, highlighting the network of Assault Cells, cascading them in a deep red.
"How did they even manage to set these up?" He asked. "Why didn't the Assault Cells target the other Assault Cells when they were being launched?"
A good question, actually. "Well, when they were first starting to build them, each corporation first covered their own territory with them." The hologram shifted slightly, the red replaced with various colours- representing each of the companies that had built them. "Of course, since this was before the National Dismantlement War, 'territory' actually meant 'anywhere they were willing to pay to put a satellite up'." As a result, clusters of Assault Cells belonging to different corporations were fucking everywhere, instead of grouped up nicely.
"Back then, each corporation also had their own control system for their Assault Cells." Another shift, this time highlighting several points on the planet, where each of the facilities had been. "The system was programmed to shoot down everything that wasn't designated as allowed."
"One of the stupid things about it, however, is that pretty much everybody was using more or less the same design, with maybe a few differences." It had been an efficient design, really. Especially considering they would be able to last decades, and they'd needed to be quick about setting them up.
It was mostly that last thing that had kept the designs standardized.
"Anyway, like I said, this was before the National Dismantlement War. Since the various governments still had some actual power -however little- at the time, the corporations worked together on it. They advertised it as an anti-nuclear missile system, designed to ensure that nuclear weapons couldn't be used as the Assault Cells would shoot down ICBMs." It was technically true, too. It could shoot down ICBMs.
It was just designed to shoot down a lot more than just that.
"Since they were working together, the Assault Cells were programmed not to shoot down the other Assault Cells." Which was how the web had been set up in the first place. "Unfortunately for everybody, the National Dismantlement War happened, and that spelled the end of the corporation's cooperation. Equally unfortunately for everybody, nobody realised that the Assault Cells had a programming flaw, one that wasn't corrected or discovered beforehand because of their haste to set the network up in the first place."
The thousands of coloured spots on the hologram shifted, transforming into a uniform grey. "The corporations had set their Assault Cells to register other Assault Cells as 'allies', and thus not something to be shot down. A problem arose when they attempted to change that, and set the other Assault Cells as 'enemies', causing the Assault Cells to get stuck in a programming loop."
Little1 twisted, looking at me with disbelief written on his face. "What?"
I grinned. "Oh, I'm serious. The coding was apparently written over the course of three days, and didn't get much testing." They were very hasty in deploying the Assault Cells. And they'd cut as many corners as they could in deploying them.
"Anyway," I continued. "That loop stopped the Assault Cells' processors cold, so the corporations couldn't even use their control systems to fix the problem."
He stared at me, before slowly turning around. "How..."
"Never underestimate the depths of stupidity, nor the heights of greed. The corporations are prone to both." I hummed.
"You know, you could access the information yourself." But he hadn't. And I knew why, too.
He nodded, seemingly shy. "I know. But I like spending time with you."
I smiled, and hugged him closer.
97
Time did as time does, and passed.
Surprisingly little of interest happened. I got the occasional mission, which inevitably boiled down to 'explode some Normals and MTs', plus/minus some occasional other targets.
It was boring.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait that long for something interesting to finally happen.
Something interesting being this mission.
"You're being called in to give support." The voice of Omer's messenger spoke. "Originally, the Spirit of Motherwill was to be attacked by only a single Lynx. However, the presence of Iakchos and Champion Champs has changed that."
Bernard and Felix Foundation had caught wind of Omer's plot to destroy the Spirit of Motherwill. I didn't actually have anything to do with that, they just got lucky.
Subsequently, they'd assigned Iakchos to the Spirit of Motherwill.
"Neither are a large threat. Iakchos is a former NEXT engineer, and he doesn't have much experience in the way of combat. However, he wields a powerful sniper cannon with considerable proficiency, and thus excels at long-ranged combat."
Champion Champs, however...
Well, he piloted a NEXT and equipped it with demolition tools, some missiles, and a grenade launcher. His psychological profile, his tendency to growl, and the fact that he equipped his NEXT with demolition tools, led to most being convinced he was insane.
They probably weren't wrong.
"Champion Champs is... Champion Champs. What he does on the battlefield is a mystery, and his tactics can change at any moment. However, his weapons, and his NEXT have not changed since they were first seen. He isn't usually a threat, but don't get into close combat, and always keep an eye him."
Champion Champs had shown up at the Spirit of Motherwill one day. Nobody had noticed him coming, nor had any idea what he was doing there.
They still didn't.
The Vanguard Overed Boost system slowly lowered, the technicians working to attach it to the back of my NEXT.
Not too far away, the same thing was happening to my 'partner'.
Strayed.
Funny how those things went, isn't it?
"So, do you have a name?" A pleasant, yet oddly severe voice asked.
I recognized it.
Serene Haze, also known as Kasumi Sumika.
Hmm.
Oh, why not?
"That one isn't going to answer you, I'm afraid." I spoke. "Hasn't ever said anything, really." I gave a slight sigh. "It is a pleasure to meet you, fellow Operator."
"I know the feeling. Serene Haze."
"Drich. Yes, I know, weird name." I hummed.
I checked the mission timer. 40 seconds left.
"I wasn't going to say anything." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Always nice to hear a friendly voice."
"Agreed." I said, enthusiastically.
20 seconds left.
The technicians were moving out of the way, the walkways doing the same.
My NEXT leaned forwards, counterbalancing the weight of the VOB unit attached to its back. Strayed, to my side, did the same thing.
"Good luck out there."
"Same. Though I doubt you'll need it."
10.
"We'll make sure Iakchos and Champion Champs stay off your back." I stated, both to Strayed and to Kasumi.
Catapults, much like those built into aircraft carriers used for assisting take-off, slid back, attaching to the feet of our NEXTs.
5.
Panels slid up, thrusters engaging, but not quite going full burst just yet.
3.
2.
1.
The catapults activated, pulling our NEXTs forwards, thrusters pushing to maximum in the same moment.
Time to fly~
My NEXT shifted, legs bending backwards while the arms splayed out, locking into what was about the most aerodynamic shape I could achieve with a giant humanoid robot with an equally large clump of rockets attached to its back.
I gave a slight hum as we lifted in the air.
Here we go~
And then, the VOB activated.
Cruising speed... 2300 kilometres per hour. Strayed... 2100 kilometres per hour.
Engagement distance... 30 kilometres.
Arrival time... 46.95652~ seconds, 51.42857~ seconds.
Not counting dodging manoeuvers. That could easily add several decaseconds to the arrival time.
"Careful. They have you in their sights." I said.
Effective range of Spirit of Motherwill's main weapons...
Well, they could hit a NEXT sized target moving over twice the speed of sound with near-perfect accuracy from tens of kilometres away. So...
Way the fuck too high.
My NEXT drifted slightly to the side, allowing, a second or two later, one of the shells from the aforementioned main guns to scream past.
Strayed... Quick Boosted to the side, shedding speed but dodging the shell aimed for him nevertheless.
Those shells would fuck up a NEXT something fierce if they hit. Needless to say, neither of us intended to get hit.
The sensors on my NEXT weren't nearly as good as the ones on any other unit in my army, but, even from this distance, I could identify the Spirit of Motherwill, and also what it was currently playing host to.
There were a lot of Normals. Some MTs, a few Helicopters here and there...
And, of course, both Champion Champs and Iakchos.
The former of whom was... pacing back and forth, and the latter of whom was wielding large, distinctly non-standard, oversized sniper-rifles, which were pointed at us.
He was actually kind of hard to see. His NEXT, Anima, was partially hidden behind some Normals, and the ECM wasn't helping.
He...
Actually, all of his weapons were sniper rifles. Both of his arm weapons were 050ANSR models, and the back weapons were 050ANSC models.
I guess he really likes long range.
Shame it wouldn't help him.
I let go of the thrust keeping my NEXT so high in the air, dipping closer to the ground. Iakchos' position ensured that once we got close enough, he wouldn't be able to shoot us, since we'd have the Spirit of Motherwill's... aircraft carrier extension things in the way.
Did those things actually have a name?
Don't think so...
Bleh, side-tracked.
Actually, that is an awful lot of Normals on those... wing things.
Well, that's what I brought the micro-missiles for.
The launchers on my NEXT's shoulder shifted, aiming forwards before firing, sending off a dozen missiles each.
They spread out, curving outwards and then inwards towards the Spirit of Motherwill.
They got about halfway there before the second stage activated, each of the missiles splitting open to reveal almost a dozen more missiles hidden within, each one launching out and streaking towards the Spirit of Motherwill.
That should clear the way a little.
98
My micro-missiles found plentiful targets.
And with plentiful targets came plentiful destruction.
The funny thing is, I still didn't have as many missiles as they did Normals.
But that didn't matter too much.
Most Normals weren't equipped for indefinite flight time, so that naturally meant they were concentrated on the Spirit of Motherwill's decks -DECKS! That's the fucking word!-.
Concentrated together.
Against missiles.
My missiles.
That was not, by any stretch of the word, a good place to be.
If they had been split up, far apart, my missiles might have only destroyed a single Normal each. But they were close, and the result was that much more damaging.
288 explosions came as my missiles detonated, each one destroying at least 1 Normal, the vast majority taking 3 or even 4 Normals, clearing entire decks of Normals.
But not all of them. I hadn't released that many missiles, and there were simply far too many Normals to get them all in a single salvo.
Still, they were significantly depleted, cutting down on the firepower arrayed against us.
Distance remaining... 10 kilometres. VOB purge in 9.8613 kilometres.
The retaliation came swiftly, and in two forms.
First was the Spirit of Motherwill releasing its own missiles, batteries releasing a veritable horde, the vast majority of which was targeted at me.
Second; Iakchos chose that moment to open fire.
Honestly, I would have cared more about the first if they'd targeted Strayed- mostly because, aside from dodging like hell, which he could do, he had no other way to really deal with all the missiles.
Myself, on the other hand...
Well, I could dodge, though the massive assembly of rockets attached to the back of my NEXT would impede that. Still, it was a possibility, one that I would have had to resort to if I didn't have other options.
If I didn't.
But I did.
Several of them, in fact.
Ah, the only problem with having so many options.
Picking which one you want to use...
EMP, maybe?
His eyes flicked over the Spirit of Motherwill, examining the Arms Fort closely for weakness.
As the briefing had stated, it was an odd mix between nearly indestructible and strikingly vulnerable.
Thick, massive armour covered the Motherwill's entire form, strong and tough enough that even most Arms Fort-grade weaponry would have difficulty piercing it.
It could field enough Normals to give a considerably large army pause, enough to drown even the average Lynx in bodies and firepower.
Its missiles packed quite the punch, and the long ranged cannons that served as the Motherwill's main armament were typical of BFF; powerful, long ranged, and very, very dangerous. It was their specialty, after all.
And yet...
His eyes flicked over the guns, over the missile bays, over the Normals.
He'd seen its designs.
He knew the weaknesses. The cannons were not as heavily armoured as the rest of the Motherwill, and NEXT-grade weaponry could destroy them. Enough heat and kinetic force would cause the shells inside to detonate, which would start a chain reaction that would render the entire turret inoperable- and cause the Motherwill itself some considerable damage.
A similar problem plagued the missile bays, the storage inside not as well armoured as they should have been. Enough firepower, and they would detonate, damaging the structure, and also starting fires within the Motherwill.
Keep it up, and the internal fires would cause everything to melt and break, on top of forcing everybody inside to leave, or suffer smoke inhalation. If it continued too long, or became too intense, it might even cause the Motherwill's reactor to meltdown, an event that would almost certainly destroy the Spirit of Motherwill.
Perhaps the superstructure would survive, but not the rest of it.
It was, perhaps, typical of BFF. With their emphasis on extreme, long ranged firepower, they never believed anybody would survive long enough to make it close, which in most cases would be a fair assumption.
Not today.
Today it would cost them their Arms Fort.
Though...
First they would have to get around the missiles, and then they would have to get around the NEXTs.
Some minor disruption of his sensors pulled his attention to his current teammate, whose NEXT was current shifting, emitters and coils extending slightly from the black and blue armour.
The radar pulsed into chaotic static briefly, a powerful EMP pulse playing merry havoc on his sensors before the system overcame it.
In front of them, the missile swarm fell into a chaos of its own; the cheap, disposable guidance systems of the missiles fried from the pulse, rendering the vast majority useless- at least, certainly no threat to a NEXT.
Reliable allies. How rare.
Missile swarm... mostly taken care of.
EMP emitters receded back into the armour of my NEXT, hidden safely away again.
One threat partially neutralized, two more to go.
I drifted slightly to the left, allowing the fire of Iakchos' sniper cannon to drift past.
He was quite accurate, honestly. Even at this distance, he could hit a target moving at considerable speed. Unfortunately, this distance was also sufficient enough for the both of us to dodge, but hey, the fact that we had to dodge at all was impressive in its own right.
"VOB nearly depleted." I stated unnecessarily. "Target Iakchos first. Your partner can handle a few Normals."
The Spirit of Motherwill fired again, the cannons sending shells directly at us, and the missile silos releasing another wave of missiles.
I shifted out of the path of the first, and didn't even bother with the second. Our VOB units would purge before they made it to us, and without the massive assembly of rockets slowing us down, we were free to put our NEXTs' full agility to use in dodging.
Case in point; right now.
"VOB purging. Watch out."
The massive assembly of rockets broke apart, scattering to the sides, as much of the assembly being thrown away from the NEXT as possible.
Didn't matter too much.
My Over-booster activated, and my NEXT shot out of the rapidly slowing cloud of metal that was once a VOB unit.
I fired another set of missiles off just before I ducked underneath one of the Spirit of Motherwill's decks. It should destroy most of the Normals that still remained, and leave a path open for Strayed.
Now...
Come here Iakchos, we're going to have some fun.
99
My Over-Booster disengaged, inertia carrying me to the other side of the Spirit of Motherwill's deck. Half a dozen other boosters engaged, my NEXT spinning 180 degrees and gaining height.
Just before I came high enough to see the top of the deck, I Quick-Boosted to the side, and was rewarded with Iakchos' sniper cannons not burying a shell in my chest.
"Yeeaaargh!" Champion Champs shouted, Killdozer rushing forwards, Over-Boosters engaged and rapidly propelling the NEXT towards me, a slight green glow surrounding his NEXT from the condensing Kojima Particles. Both of his demo tools were at the ready, preparing to pummel me.
Who knows, maybe if they hit, they might have actually done some damage.
For me, the next moment passed slowly.
For them, my NEXT was little more than a blur of metal and colour as I struck at Champion Champs.
My thrusters disengaged, and my NEXT spent a brief moment in the air before it dropped to the surface of the Motherwill's deck, crouching as Killdozer came closer. The laser rifle in my left hand clamped to my leg, freeing the hand for a brief while.
The moment he was in range, the Boosters activated again, my NEXT lancing forwards with a sudden, swift strike towards Killdozer.
I spun to the side of him, ignoring his weakened Primal Armour for the moment, my left hand reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, penetrating partially into the armour to ensure the grip was solid enough. I began pulling back, spinning to the right and pulling the arm away from the body, an effort that would achieved nothing more than just redirecting Killdozer's direction if not for the fact that I activated the laser blade built into the wrist at that moment.
The activation was brief, a flash of brilliant white light that lasted only a tenth of a second, but brief as it may have been, it was long enough.
The wall of light sheared right through the thin, relatively unprotected joint between the core and the arm, coupling with the spin to rip the arm from the body.
My right arm rose, carefully aiming the laser rifle at Anima. At this distance, he couldn't dodge, and I couldn't miss.
"YEEEEE-!" Champion Champ's scream began just as I fired, a thin, focused and powerful beam of light lancing out straight towards Anima.
I didn't aim for the chest, no. The armour there was thick, heavy, strong enough to resist the firepower of my rifle, though not indefinitely. Instead, I aimed slightly lower, at the joint between the core and the legs.
While still quite protected, it didn't change the fact that it was much less armoured than the core itself, and thanks to the feedback from the AMS, certainly no less vital.
If I were less brokenly overpowered, this might not have been a worthwhile thing to pursue. I'd miss, or the armour would take the laser just fine.
But... Well. If I were less brokenly overpowered.
The thin beam seared through the out edge of the armour, the power of a much bigger gun focused on such a small area, with so little protection...
Was there every any doubt? Certainly not.
The spin shifted my aim, and I fired again, sending another burst of light directly into Anima's joint, though this one burning another hole slightly to the right of the already existing one, widening it and compromising the integrity of the joint even further.
Almost there.
For the third and last time, I fired again, another lance burning a hole halfway through the joint, severely damaging the support that held the core to the legs.
There we go.
I'd have to let the gun cool after this, firing thrice in less than half a second pushed right at the edges of its capabilities, but I'd still accomplished what I'd needed.
The joint was, not to put too fine a point on it, fucked. More than half had been violently seared away, and the rest wasn't far off considering the average G-Forces involved in NEXT-to-NEXT combat.
Assuming it would continue moving at all, that is. I did just fuck him up something fierce, after all.
My perception sped up again, time going from nearly halted to roughly normal.
"-EEAAARRGH!" Champion Champ's completed his scream even as Iakchos' own pained grunt came, the sound oddly muffled.
Oh well.
My spin completed as I grabbed my left laser rifle, the right one opening to the air and beginning to vent heat.
"DAAAMN YOU!" Champion Champs roared, his boosters activating and spinning him around, left arm swinging wildly.
I boosted backwards, effortlessly dodging the wild swing, before Quick-Boosting to the side as his grenade launcher fired, letting the ordinance sail harmlessly past me.
...
Well, harmless to me, anyway. There was a Normal in the grenade's path, and that guy was about to have a very bad day.
I rose into the air as Champion Champs turned again, grenade launcher lobbing another explosive at me, which accomplished exactly as much as the first. Well, less- there wasn't a Normal in this one's path.
"COME BACK HERE SO I CAN USE YOUR ENTRAILS AS A SKIPPING ROPE!" Champion Champs howled, rising into the air after me.
The VERMILLION01 missile launcher on his back shifted, before launching 8 missiles at me.
High speed missiles, hurt quite a bit.
Not too much of a problem for me.
My left arm snapped up, and I fired at the missile launcher, another thin beam of heat and light searing through it and promptly cooking off the missiles within.
The resulting explosion was supremely satisfying, dozens of stacked missiles detonating simultaneously in a burst of heat, light, sound, and smoke.
Killdozer emerged from the smoke damaged, a number of his boosters rendered non-functional, his armour battered and, in some places, broken.
He fell from the sky, missing the Motherwill's deck and crashing towards the ground, slamming into it and kicking up a cloud of sand and dust as he did.
The NEXT wasn't moving, and it was so fucked at this point that it posed no threat to anyone. Champion Champs himself wasn't saying anything, and the near constant growl was gone, only static on his radio, so he was either unconscious or dead.
Stubborn one, him. Continuing to move and engage in combat even after having his NEXT's arm cut off...
Well, that wasn't a common thing among Lynx.
A loud booming noise coupled with a powerful shockwave caught my attention, and I turned around to find that Strayed had just detonated the ordinance of one the Motherwill's main cannons, destroying the entire turret.
Tiny fragments of metal bounced of my NEXT, scratching the paint slightly, but doing no worse.
I spared a brief glance at Iakchos -not moving-, before darting off.
Better make sure that the Normals stay off his back.
100
My gun's heatsink snapped closed, finished venting heat.
Good, good.
"You really do work fast, don't you..." I mused. "Well, you aren't finished yet. Either destroy those Normals, or go after the Motherwill."
Strayed... was jinking like hell at the moment, the random, erratic movements serving both to keep the Normals from gaining a bead on him, and to dodge the missiles that the Motherwill was still launching- though in far less amounts, now.
Partially because any miss from this range was near guaranteed to hit the Motherwill, and partially because Strayed was in range of the Motherwill's other, smaller, less concerning guns.
Not that they were doing any good, thanks to the aforementioned jinking.
Right.
The Normals, then...
The missile launchers on my back shifted, before firing another volley of 12 each.
So glad I brought those- but really, 1200 Normals?
Walking-gun-carrier the Motherwill might have been, but why even bother with such an excessive number?
Well, there weren't that many Normals left now, but still...
Eh... This last volley should finish the rest of them off.
Another booming shockwave came as Strayed detonated the other gun turret, an explosion of smoke and debris. Again, some tiny fragments of metal bounced off my armour, remnants of cannons...
Of course, that detonation and the detonation before it would have done quite some damage to the internals. Even now, my sensors detected a notable rise in heat of the superstructure, growing slowly with each passing second.
Unsurprising, considering both of the Motherwill's main cannons had been destroyed. The Motherwill stocked quite a bit of ammo for those guns, and the resulting explosion and fire it had caused from being detonated had thus been quite severe.
Much more severe than detonating the supply of missiles stored within the various launchers on the Motherwill's decks.
Too severe.
The fires were already raging out of control. The Motherwill had no hope left, right now it was nothing but a matter of time before the core melted down and destroyed the entire Arms Fort.
If the survivors were smart, they'd evacuate before that.
"Main shaft is overheating, temperatures are out of control!"
Yeah, there it is.
The first of my missiles reached their targets, scything down the considerable amount of remaining Normals over the next few seconds, leaving it considerably more defenceless.
Though not totally...
I Quick-boosted to the side, allowing a stream of missiles from the Motherwill to sail harmlessly past me.
Shooting at Strayed would have ended only with the Motherwill itself being hit.
Shooting at me, however...
I spun, taking a split second to line up a shot before firing at one of the Motherwill's missile pods, the laser blast promptly cooking off the missiles that remained within and causing an explosion of heat and smoke.
My left hand came up and I fired at another, detonating that pod too, before I turned slightly and fired my right one again, all the while keeping on the move and dodging both the missiles and the shells that came my way.
"All hands, prepare for ground evacuation!" There we go. "Get out! The Motherwill is going to break apart!"
And like that, mission complete.
My NEXT stood at the base of a building, looking at the recently evacuated Motherwill.
Any minute now.
The wind blew softly, carrying dust and sand over my NEXT, but I didn't really care about that.
I was waiting for the Motherwill's reactor to go critical, the final confirmation of the completion of our mission.
Not strictly necessary, but...
Well, I wanted to see the explosion.
Should be around about... now.
There was a single moment of odd silence before the Motherwill detonated, a massive explosion that created a plume of smoke larger than the Motherwill itself, sending bits and pieces of the Motherwill's superstructure flying into the air.
The desert underneath was swept away with the sheer force of it, leaving a crater underneath the Motherwill, formed of dirt and sand. The buildings that were close promptly collapsed, torn and shredded.
My NEXT's head tilted to the side, and, a few moments later, a piece of the Motherwill's armour flew directly over my shoulder, embedding into the building behind me.
On the side were the words 'Bernard and Felix Foundation'.
Ah... a satisfying end.
"We weren't able to recover much, but..." He stated. "Well, what we did recover is interesting."
A few images appeared on the screen, displaying the Spirit of Motherwill, the NEXTs Strayed, Killdozer, Anima, and the as-of-yet unnamed NEXT piloted by the Lynx of Raven's Nest.
"The assault went as planned." The image of the Spirit of Motherwill changed, now displaying the ruined wreck of the BFF Arms Fort. "Total engagement time, from the moment of deployment to the moment that the Spirit of Motherwill was evacuated, measures 2 minute and 16 seconds."
A fast engagement by anybody's standards, especially for an Arms Fort. Especially for the Spirit of Motherwill as, however oversized, out of date, and sloppily designed it may have been, was still one of the most powerful Arms Forts in existence.
"From what the records indicate," He continued. "The unnamed NEXT was able to defeat both Anima and Killdozer within 10 seconds of engaging them."
"Impossible." Another member of the meeting immediately declared. "No Lynx is so skilled as to take on two more and defeat them in such a short span of time. Not even Otsdarva has achieved anything like that."
"Against the likes of Champion Champs and Iakchos?" Another asked. "I do not find it hard to believe. Otsdarva does not fight such unstable and unskilled foes."
"I would hardly call Iakchos unskilled."
"Compared to the likes of Otsdarva's usual foes?" The other repeated. "He is Collared's number one for a reason."
"Gentlemen, please." A fourth member spoke up, the light and melodious voice indicating her gender. "We are discussing the pilot of Strayed, and the unknown Lynx, not Otsdarva." She paused for a moment. "Admittedly, I too find it unlikely. Champion Champs, unstable as he may be, is not unintelligent, and his NEXT is quite durable. Engaging and disabling it in less than 10 seconds would be a challenge for any, and claiming that they destroyed two?"
"If you don't mind me continuing?" The first interrupted, a note of annoyance in his voice.
"Please, Jeff."