Twenty-seven
Castle Mystacor
Planet Etheria
5 September 2017
"Houston, we have a problem," Frost said, dead serious. He had been scanning the expansive battlefield through his rifle scope looking for any enemy machines that might have escaped notice.
"That's not funny, corporal," Gunnery Sergeant Apone growled.
"Wasn't trying to be," Frost responded. "I have movement due south at about five hundred yards."
Adrian and the Sorceress turned in the indicated direction. It was hard to make anything out because of the larger wrecks of Monstroids littering the field. They ran toward the nearest mound of dead monster machine, weaving through the heaps of other smaller robots, and leapt atop the mountain of dead metal. With the higher vantage point, the pair could now see what Frost reported.
A force of approximately forty robots was steadily marching on Mystacor, the new type War Wing and Falcon had faced earlier. Several dead ones lay scattered in the wreckage closer to the castle, but they were in bits and pieces. Why the ones further out still functioned was unknown.
"Were they outside the blast radius?" Adrian asked.
Falcon answered, "No. I asked the Sorceress to hold off firing the weapon until those were within range."
"Then why are they still functioning?" Sorceress asked no one in particular.
Up on the parapet, Frost took careful aim at the lead machine. The scope automatically zooming in when it was settled on a target for longer than three seconds, the rifle's electronic brain assuming any object observed for a minimum of three seconds was the preferred target. Frost let his his spotter know which machine he'd picked out.
Marin focused her spotting scope on the target robot as Frost fired. "You missed," she reported, frowning.
"I always hit what I aim for," Frost declared. Coming from someone else, that would have been a boast. For the corporal, it was simple fact. He pushed himself to hard that his aim was becoming near legendary in the command.
Adrian focused War Wing's sensors of the target machine. "Call it," he said, zooming in.
"Eight ball in the center pocket," Frost called out. The pool reference was personal code for aiming for the robot's center mass. He counted down to the trigger squeeze.
The result was disquieting. War Wing's sensors picked up an energy shield snapping into place microseconds before the slug traveling at a fraction of the speed of light would have struck. The solid metal slug exploded uselessly.
"What was that?" Adrian queried the AI.
"It appears to be a powerful shield and sensor system. It picks up the speed of the incoming fire and takes appropriate action."
In response, Adrian activated the rocket launcher on his right shoulder. The tracking system locked on the advancing machine. Adrian's eye flicked to the fire icon. A rocket belched from the launcher in a puff of smoke, a white trail darting across the distance to the approaching robot and exploded. Nothing seemed to happen for several agonizing seconds as a dirty cloud enveloped the target. Then, the machine stepped out of the dissipating smoke unaffected by the attack.
"It would appear that the shield hardens in direct proportion to the force directed against it," Wing reported.
"Again, in English," Adrian requested, frowning.
"The greater the speed, the harder the shield becomes. So, a lower velocity will get through."
"How low?"
"Only one way to find out," the AI replied, almost sounding as happy about the prospect as Miriam would.
"Jake. Brad. Sonya. If you have any energy reserve left, get out here. We need help," Adrian called.
Falcon followed War Wing's lead and took off to engage the approaching machines, launching an EM blast at the apex of a power leap. The energy splashed harmlessly against the machine's shield.
"Oh, princess," the Sorceress called over the tac net. She cracked a slight smile envisioning Anyssa's exasperated eye roll. The girl had been getting a lot of ribbing ever since she had revealed herself to be the third daughter of the Val-kyre Queen Mother.
"Yes, Falcon?" the young warrior responded, not quite keeping annoyance out of her voice.
"Have your people routinely used EM weapons against Hordak?"
"Of course. It's the best way to stop robots in their tracks."
"Well, Hordak has developed something new," Adrian told her.
He landed twenty yards from the lead machine and prepared to move in for close combat, using a creature form.
"War Wing, wait!" Frost cried. He had been noticing something moving out the corner of his eye for several minutes. At first, he thought it had been the waves of heat radiating off the surfaces of the ground and the dead machines strewn across the field. However, this latest movement was much too high for that. "What the hell is that?" he muttered, aiming his rifle seemingly at nothing.
Major Oran spotting the flying machine and recognized it immediately. "Spy drone," she announced. It came out sounding like a curse.
Anyssa spotted a second one. "Looks like Hordak is getting an eyeful."
"Take them out," Adrian ordered. "I don't want Hordak to know the creatures the survivors have reported back to him are just me. Not yet, anyway."
Frost snap-aimed and tracked the drone as it slowly cruised the around the battlefield, leisurely recording the developing battle with the new type of trooper machine. He watched it settle into a hover twice to get a feel for its movements. Acting on instinct as much as his training firing on moving targets, Frost squeezed the trigger the moment after the drone settled into hover. The solid metal slug ripped through the drone's casing like it was tissue paper. The drone practically exploded, spraying itself over a fifty-foot area.
Smiling at his handywork, Frost reported, "Scratch one."
A Val-kyrie sniper announced the demise of the second drone seconds later.
"Go, Cobra!" Colonel Markson ordered even as the three remaining Guardians still able to engage the enemy arrived in response to Adrian's call.
Adrian sprinted past a dead Monstroid hulk in combat mode and emerged on the other side in the form of the frightening Xenomorph from Cameron's famous film. The drone he targeted did not care. Its electronic brain identified a threat and took steps to counter it. Feet braced apart the Mark IV trooper timed its countermove with the precision capable only in a machine. The spider-like creature leapt straight at the trooper. The conclusion seemed inevitable until the trooper's armored left arm swept up and batted the creature aside. The trooper turned to face its attacker as it halted its tumble and prepared to launch itself again. Before Adrian could spring, Gatling Arm landed atop the distracted machine, flattening it like stepping on an empty soda can.
Adrian threw his arms wide and roared at the Guardian. "Better him than you, bub," Jake replied, voice dripping with indifference. Colonel Markson had issued orders to capture several of the machine relatively intact, if possible, for study. With an initial forty machines marching toward Mystacor, there were plenty to choose from.
Adrian switched to the Syngenor form and took off in search of other prey.
Falcon had her own problems. A trooper had targeted her for destruction, activating the plasma rifle mounted on the left shoulder and locked targeting on the Guardian. The weapon, measuring almost three feet in length, was stowed, muzzle pointing down, behind the left shoulder. When activated, it swung up and over the shoulder, locking into place, pointing in the direction the trooper was headed. The machine now stopped its advance, braced thick, armored legs and fired.
Sorceress called upon her defenses, the semi-transparent shield materializing in an instant from the emitter in the left forearm. Sorceress set her feet and braced for impact, but the plasma bolt had more of a kick than anyone realized. Falcon was knocked backward almost two feet, armored boots digging furrows into the dirt. More importantly, the shock from the impact was great enough to transfer from the shield into her physical arm and on up to the shoulder. Sorceress wondered briefly if her arm had been broken; it tingled from shoulder to fingertips.
Two more successive blasts forced the Guardian backward another four feet. The fourth strike knocked her down. Falcon lay sprawled on her back, left arm held off the ground by the still active shield; Sorceress had had the wind knocked out of her and could not get back to her feet. Sensing an opening to fulfill its prime directive to capture a battlesuit, the trooper moved in to immobilize its stricken foe.
The Syngenor appeared from out of nowhere right behind it; dashing up a sliver of wreckage, it leapt into the air straight at the trooper's back. Twin claws snapped out from under the carapace armor of the right arm as the creature angled to land behind the machine. Those claws stabbed deep into the unprotected space between the backplate and neck, severing vital links between the robot's brain and body. Limbs twitched spasmodically, severed links sparked, arcs of electricity destroying more vital links. The trooper collapsed onto its back deader that disco, random twitches wracking its body.
Syngenor pulled Falcon to her feet. She reached behind her for her staff as it took the shape of the compact battleax, raised it and stepped into a one-handed hurl with all the might Falcon could put into the throw. The creature turned as the weapon, tumbling at an impressive clip, penetrated a trooper's shield and cracked the chest plate. Falcon followed up with a tightly focused telekinetic blast that slammed the falcon cap deeper into vital electronics causing a violent cascade failure of all systems.
With the arrival of Gatling Arm, Blitz and Hawk, several more troopers had been disabled relatively intact. All others were stomped on, launched like a football kicker booting a field goal, or literally torn limb from limb.
The battle lasted only several minutes start to finish.
Adrian had changed forms again, to the CHUD, ripping a couple troopers apart. He reverted to the form he had been born with and approached Falcon. "You all right?"
Sorceress opened the faceplate and grimaced, clutching her left shoulder. "I will be. Those things hit harder than I expected. Even that plasma Gatling didn't hurt like this."
"Better get yourself checked out by Doc Carter," Adrian said. He held up a finger to forestall her protest. "No argument. I'm well aware of your healing magic, but I'd prefer the doctor took a look at you."
Reluctantly, Sorceress nodded and walked in the direction of the grounded starship Eternia. She did not have the energy to argue. And besides, this was why she and the other Guardians had elected Adrian to be their leader. She couldn't very well challenge his authority after agreeing to give him the authority to command the team of six Guardians.
The remaining four Guardians met up with Colonel Markson and a group of soldiers gathered around one of the intact new-type troopers. Markson was trying to figure out how best to get the robot transferred to the Eternia to be taken home for Gabe and his teams to dissect. One of the privates was crouched down, examining the joints to see if they would handle rough treatment. He jumped to his feet and backpedaled when something popped and fizzed somewhere inside the torso.
Pops could be heard from the other intact robots. In seconds, the torsos of all eight captured machines began to glow red, and then white hot. Within the span of two minutes, all eight robots had their torsos reduced to cooling lumps of molten slag. All critical equipment and systems totally destroyed.
"Well, that's…inconvenient," Colonel Markson remarked.
The battle for Mystacor was finally over. While capturing some of Hordak's new toys would have been a good boon to go with a Monstroid or two, the most important fact could not be dampened.
They had held.
Fright Zone
Shadow Weaver had left the command center long before the battle near Mystacor came to its inevitable conclusion. There was nothing more to learn from watching the spy drones hovering about the battlefield; the assistance she required now was magical, not mechanical. Let Modulok froth and drool over the technological achievements from a thousand years ago. Shadow was interested in the magical achievement that had never been duplicated. She had a theory about the magical aspects of the battlesuits: They had been created by science and given life through magic. Shadow suspected that she knew what wellspring of magic had been used, but it was a source of myth and legend.
Entering her inner sanctum, that few had ever seen, Shadow Weaver closed and locked the heavy wooden door. The door was an oddity in the Fright Zone, where most of the structures were made of metal alloys and composite materials. Her sanctum was located in the oldest part, constructed out the remains of an ancient castle. The lock was hardly necessary; no one in their right mind ventured here, except for Hordak. And even he seldom called on his resident witch on her domain.
Shadow activated the caldron dominating the center of the dingy chamber. Flames flickered from sconces on the walls all around the room. The yellow light, flickering on the ancient stone walls, had an almost psychedelic effect. The witch ignored the flickering light, as well as the scene taking shape in the mirror-smooth surface of the magic-infused water in the caldron. She rooted around in a large bookcase set against the north wall for a specific tome.
The battle continued to close in on Castle Mystacor. The Guardians and their allies fought hard to protect the castle and its inhabitants. Horde troopers finally broke away in a futile attempt to retire from the battlefield. However, the allies did not allow a single robot to exit the field intact.
One part of the witch's brain took note of the new Mark IV troopers strewn about the field standing inert. The aggressiveness of the Guardians in their smaller forms was impressive. She paid particular attention to the female suit painted in the known colors of the Sorceress' costume. The white staff also gave her away, as did the semi-transparent shield with a falcon in flight spread across its center.
While part of her mind continued to observe and make notes of the Falcon suit, Shadow focused the rest of her attention on the tome. Setting the thick volume on a pedestal, she opened the cover, being careful not to damage the creaking leather binder any more than age had already done. Somewhere within was the answer she sought. Or so Shadow hoped.
Wellsprings of magic seeded the galaxy, indeed, the universe, to some degree. Some were more powerful than others. Some had even been syphoned away to nothingness. Many wellsprings could be accessed by even the weakest of magic-users. A select few, however, would instantly vaporize the most powerful of beings like Horde Prime. That did not stop anyone from lusting after the potential power the wellsprings presented.
Beings like Shadow Weaver.
The witch paused in her search of the tome to watch Falcon utilize the shield to block the fire of an energy minigun, even deflect a few bolts into robots on her flanks, vault into a somersault to land behind her assailant, dragging the trooper down in the process and slam the recalled staff/axe deep into the machine's chest.
She isn't using much magic, Shadow mused. She's relying on the machine to do the work. Not all of it. She appears to have some fighting skills no one knew about. I look forward to engaging you on the field of battle, Sorceress. I must have that battlesuit. I will have that battlesuit.
The witch resumed her search. She ignored the resumed fighting against Hordak's new model trooper that was resistant to electromagnetic pulses like the one Falcon had launched. Shadow Weaver was so absorbed in her research that she missed Adrian Cobretti's remarkable transformation. She did take note of the black creature with piercing silver eyes pulling Falcon to her feet after being blasted to the dirt by a trooper, Falcon promptly cutting the machine down with her modified falcon staff. Shadow resumed her research, knowing the enemy would prevail and that any units captured intact would execute their self-destruct directive, depriving the enemy of valuable intelligence and technology.
Hours passed. Day gradually gave way to evening, and evening turned into night. At last, Shadow Weaver found what she was looking for. However, that knowledge did not bring her any closer to the truth about the battlesuits.
The Forge.
What she discovered was a myth. A legend spoken of only in hushed reverence for that which no living being had even seen. If it truly did exist, the galactic coordinates might be recorded in a library left behind by the Ancients. Those libraries had knowledge on a great many things, a lot of them now lost to the ages. Parts of the library existed across the galaxy, but a fully intact and accurate one had never been found. Shadow was one of the few who knew the dying penal planet Hel had actually been the seat of the Ancient's benevolent empire. The planet had once gone by a very different name at a time when it was green and full of life.
Scholos.
But the planet had been scoured repeatedly, since legend held that there was a single archive left intact somewhere on the planet. Perhaps even the original one from which the uncounted copies had been made from and scattered across their vast empire. No one had ever found any trace of the archive and both legend and now planet had passed into history. Even after Horde Prime turned the dying world into a penal planet, no one thought to look for the legendary archive when the fight to survive that hellish place consumed everyday life there.
Thwarted and frustrated, Shadow Weaver closed the tome and turned her attention to formulating a plan to for a confrontation between herself and the Sorceress. A battle for the possession of that remarkable battlesuit that could possibly allow Shadow Weaver to finally achieve her dream of absolute magical power undreamt of in almost a thousand years.
Mystacor
The area from the castle wall out to a distance of two hundred yards had been painstakingly cleared of Horde wreckage. The five battlesuits were lined up along the wall with all passive sensors activated and scanning the area for any enemy activity. While there wasn't much of a chance of another attack by Hordak, it wouldn't do to take unnecessary risks. Roving patrols walked the perimeter that had been set in a fifty-yard arc.
Campfires sprang up within the perimeter shortly before dusk. Sorceress came upon the one Adrian had finished building in front of War Wing. She paused to watch as he made a teepee out of pieces of wood he had scavenged earlier; instead of a ring of stones, the man used pieces of armor that had been blown off troopers. Adrian pulled out a survival knife he kept in the tiny storage space under the seat in the operator's compartment. The knife was of a type made famous in a movie whose name presently escaped her. The endcap contained a compass. Removing it, he pulled a waterproof pouch from the storage space in the pommel. It contained things needed to survive in the field: a fishing line, matches and sewing kit. Adrian extracted a match, struck it on a piece of armor and applied the flame to the kindling under the teepee stack. He got a good flame going and the whole arrangement was ablaze in minutes.
The black and gray uniform chosen for the six Guardians blended in with the encroaching darkness quite well. Despite the glaring white of the headdress, Adrian didn't see the Sorceress until she was practically standing next to him; he had become lost, staring into the flickering flames of the fire.
"Oh, there you are," Adrian said, finally sensing he wasn't alone. "So, how's the arm? Magic healed it up nicely?"
Sorceress shook her head. "No. Numerous fractures from that robot's attack. Doctor Carter needed an excuse to use his new bone knitting device. So, I let him have his moment." She smiled weakly; exhaustion from the day's fighting was starting to set in. She held out one of the two containers she had carried from the starship. "Peace offering?"
Adrian frowned, accepting the gift. "I didn't know we were at war. With each other, I mean."
Adrian waited as she sat down several feet away. Something was bothering her more than being injured in the final firefight. All six of them knew that the inertia dampening system did not scale down so well from the fifteen-foot battle mode to the powered armor suit. There was a higher chance of injury with the suits in the compact form, as had been proven once again. He sensed it wasn't that.
Suddenly, it dawned on him what had the woman upset. When she opened her mouth to speak, he stopped her. "If you are going to apologize, don't. You have nothing to apologize for."
"But I could have damaged you permanently," Sorceress protested.
"We agreed that the backdoor was the only way."
"I nearly died stopping you!" she blurted. Tears rimmed her eyes, reflecting in the yellow/orange firelight. Adrian waited while she wiped her eyes and composed herself. "Something happened to you and War Wing in that moment when that group of people was killed. Whatever happened, it changed the nature of the backdoor we created on Val-kyre. It was like another presence that fought against me and Falcon. We barely stopped you in time."
Adrian had been thinking about this very issue. It was why he had been caught staring blankly into the flames. He was at a loss to explain the blackout. War Wing was in the much the same state. Whatever had affected Adrian's memory had done the same to the AI. He was concerned that there might some sleeper system in a hidden memory somewhere inside the battlesuit's computer core. If there was a sleeper system, the Val-kyrie would have told him. Wouldn't they?
That was a debate for another time. The important thing was that he and the AI were back to normal. Well, whatever passed for normal for them, anyway.
"You're alive. I'm alive. We live to fight another day," Adrian said simply. Some things were not worth beating oneself up over. "We'll figure out what happened another time. Stop beating yourself up over it."
The conversation was shelved when the other Guardians showed up, each carrying a food container. Adrian beckoned them to sit. The containers were packed with spiced meat rolls, a small wedge of cheese, a few vegetables, and a chocolate desert. The Sorceress had given the cooks the recipe for the dish from her native village. It had taken some trial and error using Earth spices, but they finally got it to a close approximation of what the Sorceress remembered.
Claw was in good order, though Brad had been forced to manually shut the AI down in order for the auto repair system to work that much faster. The eyes and star crests of the other suits flickered in amusement at that. No one talked much about Adrian's episode except for Adrian to confirm to Jake that it had been part of an elaborate plot for him to make another of his patent-pending entrances. It was a joke, of course, but it helped lighten the mood. The children had been flown back to Brightmoon where they would be safe. The group lapsed into an uneasy silence after catching one another up on the latest news. Everyone stared into the flickering flames sent darting about by the slight breeze that had picked up, each lost in their own thoughts. It was stoked periodically with more fuel to keep it going.
Dhalon and Anyssa showed up. The Quaedian grumpily dropped to the ground.
Anyssa set a heavy bag down next to Adrian. "In your haste to get into the action at Brightmoon, you left this behind on the dropship." It was Adrian's war bag.
"Ah. I wondered where that had gotten to," he replied sheepishly. "What's the matter with you?" he said to the grumpy Quaedian.
The Fighting Furball mumbled something unintelligible.
"You lost," Jake declared, smiling.
Val-kyrie warriors routinely engaged in a form of counting coup during a battle. The one with the highest score won. What they won was usually just bragging rights for that battle. Evidently, Anyssa had beaten him. Again.
"How much?" Jeromy inquired.
When Dhalon didn't answer, Anyssa supplied, "He had thirty-seven. I beat him by two."
"Oh," Jeromy said. He knew of the game, as did everyone else. He just didn't understand the attraction of such things.
To everyone's surprise, the Sorceress spoke up. "Fifty-seven." Dhalon and Anyssa stared at her, not comprehending. "My score from the battle. Fifty-seven. What do I win?"
Dhalon lightened up, wearily got to his feet and bowed to her, saying, "My everlasting respect, My Lady."
"Oh," Sorceress said, returning her gaze to the fire. "Is that all?" she added in a small voice, clearly disappointed.
"A Quaedian's respect is something that is not bestowed lightly on anyone for any reason," Anyssa explained. The two races – Val-kyrie and Quaedian – had more in common than either of them would readily admit, in public or otherwise.
"Come on," Dhalon urged the princess. "I have heard they have a decent ale here. Maybe not up to Quaedian standards, but it should suffice." That elicited a round of chuckles.
After the pair left in search of Dhalon's decent ale, the other Guardians bid each other good night and wandered off to their respective battlesuits to bed down for the night.
Adrian removed a pistol from the war bag, slapped an ammo clip into the weapon's butt and snapped back the slide to chamber a round. He stood long enough to strap on the gun belt and thigh holster, wrapping a blanket about himself after setting several large pieces of wood in the fire. He dropped down to the ground and leaned back against the front of War Wing's left foot. He was joined by the Sorceress moments later.
"This isn't helping our case that we are just friends," Adrian commented, as she settled in barely a foot away on his left.
"Just two companions enjoying a warm fire," she said, a little drowsy.
"Under a machine of war in full view of people wishing they had a camera," Adrian added.
Silence fell as the pair stared into the fire's ever-changing flickering flames. The wood popped and sparked from time to time as the pile of burning wood slowly settled into the ash. Sorceress shifted again; the next thing Adrian knew, her head was firmly planted against his shoulder. His own head made a dull thump as it hit the armor plate. It wasn't that he minded, but Adrian's feelings for this woman were conflicted. She was so far out of his league, the Sorceress might as well be in the next galaxy. And yet, here she was, getting cozy in a platonic sort of way. Well, he hoped it was platonic. Adrian had had enough bad relationships to be cautious about letting further serious relationships develop. He had no idea about her relationship history, mainly because she was so tight-lipped about so much of her personal life. Whether she had any living relatives. Her life before becoming the guardian of Castle Grayskull. Her age. The usual stuff.
"This is really not helping," Adrian reminded her.
"I don't care," she mumbled.
Neither do I, he thought, settling in, pistol in hand hidden under the blanket.
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